Life can be a err female dog sometimes.
What with the apprisal times wherein you have to get a bunch of people put in random things they'd done (or not) over the past 12 months onto an online format which doesnt allow you more than 10 charecters (the company knows us lot very well :D) and put in those two instances when you worked and the company collectively stood up and shouted out in one voice "please arpz, if you dont do anything, nothing can go wrong... do the favor of not doing anything for us" (they ripped off the first line from the Mr Bean movie, and I told them that.
And then, sud-suddenly, the database decides to take a walk in the woods, it decides to stop at a paanipuri stall where it developed dysentry. No one's seen the database ever since. My computer wakes up on the day of a deadline and says - "enough of working for this moron who does nothing but read blogs and write random stuff that no one reads" and coughs, splutters, clutches its Mother board in a dramatic fashion that Dilip Kumar would be proud of and dies.
The technology guys spend two days playing hopscotch, and only when I threatened to join their game, they agreed to help me out, fearing huge craters in their car-parking space. They are yet to find my teeny cubicle. (if there was a God, he would proove his existence by Zapping every techie alive on their butts ... *waits to see if anyone is struck by a thunderbolt - no one is* see, there is NO God!)
My professor is a poor henpecked husband, his wifey dear (i swear to Lord, this is true) expects him home on the dot of 2100 hours. I know this, because I saw him running around trying to catch a flight that was on time from Hyderabad, when asked for the cause of his agitation, he mumbled about the use of belans in the Indian Economy and the reason for high cost of airfares. ( Mini, whose blog url I cannot provide - she doesnt write one you buddhu, can vouch for this .. well, atleast for the non exaggerrated part of this). He enjoys imagining his class to be his biwi amd unleashes his pent up fury on the biwi (the class) by giving us an assignment (which Im yet to submit and the last date of which was the day when Babar invaded India)which made excel turn around cry "mommy" and run up to Bill Gates.
I love these times, it brings out the she-dog in me, the foul mood, the string of cusses, the "teri naani mari to main kya karoon" look, and also those two nukes I keep hidden under the bed (for aunts need to be silenced when they utter the "marriage" word).
And one such day, when Arpz was threating to blow up the offices of Shaadi.com and JeevanSathi.com, someone sent her an email .... an email that did not say "hey, you have a face of a baboon's back" no, as much as people would like to send that mail, they dont, you see, you cannot say that to a girl who weighs as much as the titanic and not expect her to kill you by sitting on you.
well, the sweet email just asked (in effect not verbatim) - how are you, take care, I love you.
Aah, I think it should suffice to say, the shaadi.com and the jeevansathi.com offices are still standing and the aunts are yet alive. They now recieve threats from a smiling Arpz.