sycophantic shithead

The show begins with Akshay at his articulate best. I see a new comment has been added. I check it out...

hi akshay
i think you are the one asking me questions in HR round at DBN Buisness center Chennai along with Ramsey. If thats you reply at ssuresh83@gmail.com

Part Deux. Shal smiling with her fuel - a grande blended misto... Starbucks, of course.

The Shithead Strikes Back!

hi ramsey
3 months before you interviewed me at chennai along with akshay. plz see my blog at gettips.blogspot.com

Numero Tres. Shal all smiles before she runs 197/4 [figure it out] miles.

I see something familiar. It's a bird... it's a plane... ITS SYCOPHANT MAN!!

hi sir
3 months ago you was in chennai.and me who was interviewed by RaMsey,Akshay.i failed in the Interview.but passionate on Google. i had finished my B.E.cse in 2004 now i am woring in India Cement Infotech
as Java Progr (ERP).But my aim is
to work in an Top MNC company.
all i need from you is a advice
how to prepare a neat Resume having 1+ exp. how to approach
google having SCJP Certification.
if you really want to help me plz mail me at ssuresh83@gmail.com

SHEESH! Where did good old ego and self-respect disappear? Don't people make them anymore?

Bittersweet Symphony

xxxxxxx says:
hi buddy
yours truly says:
hey, dude. how are you doing?
xxxxxxx says:
not well yaar
xxxxxxx says:
totally frustrated
xxxxxxx says:
hey ? abt u
yours truly says:
ah! welcome to the club.

'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life
Trying to make ends meet
You're a slave to money then you die

GREAT song by The Verve

Time to rejoice!

Hee haw! Auto drivers go on indefinite strike.
I hope they never come back.
Finally, I can drive with relative ease without having to smoke lead or outrace some loon to the nearest opening in traffic.
GREAT way to mark the completion of my bike's fifth year!

An evening of idiocy

Ah! Managed to survive another evening of stupidity on public display. These guys were celebrating the birthday of Krishna...
All this kinda fuelled my furnace of questions.
1. Why do these people paint some clueless kid blue instead of getting someone really black?
2. If Krishna was "gawd", why couldn't he didn't he simply fart out some gene-tailored virus and smite down every dickead that had a problem with him?
3. If Krishna can steal butter, eat shit and flirt with SIXTEEN THOUSAND chicks and get kudos for doing that, why did I get the crap kicked outta me when I was doing something similar?
4. Why does the good guy always have to bust his arse in some damn jungle while the bad guy is in some swanky palace making out with some hottie?
5. Why are these 'epics' worshipped when they look like just a few frigging war novels that have managed to endure the ravages of time?
6. If there is a god and he created me, why am I here blaspheming my arse off? Why is Earth being screwed so bad? Why do plants, birds and animals keep getting driven to oblivion?
7. Why did the biggest massacres in history justify themselves as HOLY WARS?
8. Where is proof that man isn't a failed experiment left to fester on this planet by some bloody alien race?

Attaboy, Kimi!

The Iceman kicketh some Renault arse yet again!
Screw conservation... screw safety... screw the championship... just go out there and keep winning.
FLY, ICEMAN... FLY!

Seat 29E

Fact. I hate to quote or copy.
When I do, it has to be damn special.
This is a complaint a poor chap wrote to Continental Airlines about his experience in Seat 29E. It has been immortalized in PDF here. I've taken the liberty of making a long image out of it and hosting it myself. This is meant as a tribute to the guy who wrote this SPLENDID piece of prose despite his suffering and even managed to capture his state of mind in a couple of simple pictures; NOT to be confused for plagiarism.
This one has had me in splits all day. Folks around me see me quivering silently and think I'm sick or mad. Blast them. I thank whoever wrote this for the rest of my life for lighting up my day today.
Without further blabber, here goes...



Just in case the picture tries to act funky, here's the text:

Dear Continental Airlines,

I am disgusted as I write this note to you about the miserable experience I am having sitting in seat 29E on one of your aircrafts. As you may know, this seat is situated directly across from the lavatory, so close that I can reach out my left am and touch the door.

All my senses are being tortured simultaneously. It's difficult to say what the worst part about sitting in 29E really is? Is it the stench of the sanitation fluid that's blown all over my body every 60 seconds when the door opens? Is it the wooosh of the constant flushing? Or is it the passengers asses that seem to fit into my personal space like a pornographic jig-saw puzzel?

I constructed a stink-shield by shoving one end of a blanket into the overhead compartment — while effective in blocking at least some of the smell, and offering a small bit of privacy, the ass-on-my-body factor has increased, as without my evil glare, passengers feel free to lean up against what they think is some kind of blanketed wall. The next ass that touches my shoulder will be the last!

I am picturing a board room full of executives giving props to the young promising engineer that figured out how to squeeze an additional row of seats onto this plane by putting them next to the LAV. I would like to flush his head in the toilet that I am close enough to touch, and taste, from my seat.

Putting a seat here was a very bad idea. I just heard a man groan in there! This sucks!

Worse yet, is I've paid over $400.00 for the honor of sitting in this seat!

Does your company give refunds? I'd like to go back where I came from and start over. Seat 29E could only be worse if it was located inside the bathroom.

I wonder if my clothing will retain the sanitizing odor . . . what about my hair! I feel like I'm bathing in a toilet bowl of blue liquid, and there is no man in a little boat to save me.

I am filled with a deep hatred for your plane designer and a general dis-ease that may last for hours.

We are finally decending, and soon I will be able to tear down the stink-shield, but the scars will remain.

I suggest that you initiate immediate removal of this seat from all of your crafts. Just remove it, and leave the smouldering brown hole empty, a good place for sturdy/non-absorbing luggage maybe, but not human cargo.

Seat 29E lowdown on Snopes.com - Seat 29E

Quiz - How I live my life...

Blogthings quizzes. Neat site. No bullshit questions and pretty sensible answers.
No points for guessing where I got the link from.

This is me...

You seem to be straight forward, but you keep a lot inside.
You tend to avoid confrontation and stay away from sticky situations.
You tend to have one best friend you hang with, as opposed to many aquaintances.
You tend to dream big, but you worry that your dreams aren't attainable.

FLAG!

a-HA! A nifty FLAG button!
Somebody up there sure likes me!

supreme

8 PM. The sky opens up.
Cold, dark, wet...
...wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...
Water sprays...
Things blur...
Something whizzes past...
"MAAAAAWM... it's a bird! ...or is it a plane?"
"No, dear... it's a suicidal maniac."
Absolutely right, mom. Suicidal maniac it is. It's ME.

Heaven hates me, hell doesn't want me... the world can't handle me.
I am Constantly Demented.

FUCK THE RAIN.
FUCK THE ROAD.
FUCK THE COPS.
FUCK THE RULES.
FUCK DEATH.

I AM my machine. My machine is me.
What do we feel?
We feel cold.
We feel wet.
We feel blind.
We feel strong.
We feel untouchable.
We feel alive.
We feel SUPREME.

Wish I was on a kart, not a bike.

Deus Ex Machina

Morpheus: Do you believe in fate, Neo?
Neo: No.
Morpheus: Why not?
Neo: 'cause I don't like the idea that I'm not in control of my life.

Wish I was like Neo...
Wish I didn't have a past...
Wish I never felt hungry...
Wish I never felt sleepy...
Wish I never felt happy...
Wish I never felt sad...
Wish I never felt pain...
Wish I never felt pleasure...
Wish I never cried...
Wish I never laughed...

Wish I was cold...
Wish I was flawless...
Wish I was indestructible...
Wish I was tireless...

I wish...
I wish I was a MACHINE.

about goddamn time...

Me and an amigo went to a swanky book store where I saw THIS book. Cool cover. Should pretty much explain what the book is all about.
How do folks like Dan Brown and Sidney Sheldon become "bestselling authors"? Many Sheldon fans [!!!] I know think he's a hot chick.
Coming back to ASC... the only reason I didn't buy it was the price tag. 250 bucks Indian. For a book that's a tad bigger tham my palm. There's no way in hell I can justify spending that cash on a book that wouldn't be read more than once and spend the rest of it's existence collecting dust. Why doesn't the print industry give Gutenberg a break and move to e-books? They're cheaper, cleaner and lighter. Now I know why forests disappear.
Reminds me of a definition I read ages back...
ECOLOGIST: Guy who writes a thousand page bestseller on where all trees have disappeared.

Picture source: Amazon.com

great ball, great commentary

41.5 Warne to Trescothick, OUT: full and spinning a bit, Trescothick goes for the sweep, the ball hits bat, glove, Trescothick's leg and God only knows what else. It then hits Gilchrist on the thigh and pops up in the air and he snatches a catch!

WAY TO GO, HOLLYWOOD!
Nice commentary, Cricinfo.

another day in Shitsville

I can still taste the lead force-fed into my lungs by the fucking truck beside me last evening.
New day, same shit. Dude next to me is asleep. Dame next to me has been devouring the phone for as long as I can remember. Can't do either. Can't fall asleep and ain't got nothing to talk about.

I make 22 grand a month to sit on a chair and stare at a monitor for nine hours a day. I pity the next lot of starry-eyed graduates who are bound for this swanky sweatshop.
The more I think about nothing, the more questions arise...
Why do I risk my life everyday to come to office on time?
Why do acquaintances gawk in wonder when I mention I'm working for $%^&@!@ ?
Why do I get paid when all I do is burn electricity to check my email?
Why can't I simply zip it and be shameless like all these people around me?

When I finally think about my life and make a well considered decision, why should I get blown off by people most of who live under the delusion that they are the next best thing after Sigmund Freud? What does reviewing ads have to do with how I talk or dress up? Some dame on the phone asks me to walk her thru my resume. Plain and simple... there ain't nothing in it to walk thru. Name, address and qualification. The only thing that makes me proud of my resume is the total lack of hypocrisy. Atleast I didn't copy it from some shithead who copied his from a gazillion other people. Atleast I understand what my career objective is. WALK YOU THRU MY RESUME?? BITCH... TAKE A WALK AND GO LEARN ENGLISH. Gimme an ad... ask me to review it. THEN make a frigging decision. What does my love for video games have to do with my selection? If there was a place where I'd be paid to play video games, I'd be there... not on the phone sucking up to you. Does candor hold no value in the market today? Senors Page and Brin, good luck with Google India.

The one thing I will regret most in my life is fucking up my first Google interview when things were rosy till I blew it. Akshay, man... you shouldn't have snipped off my cover letter and I - asshole to the core - shouldn't have agreed to it. "It doesn't give an impression of you being a good team player", people say. How would you know I'm not a good team player unless I play in a team first?

Knock knock, sane people from Planet Goog... I wasn't at the right place at the right time and now wanted to make amends for it. I botched an interview and spent the next two months replaying it in my head, knowing full well Im much, MUCH better than that. Why? Because I felt the job was worth it. Isn't the fact that I wanna throw away half my salary to get into a job that makes me feel I'm not a hypocrite something to think about?
Fuck all that. When I do manage to put everything I can into not two, but FOUR ESSAYS and wait for three agonizing weeks drawing out hypothetical scenarios in my head, bugging the poor dude who made the mistake of refering me in the first place for any little update he might have, somebody decides to call me and speak in a tone that drips with condescension, and finally, in all her wisdom, decides I'm:
a. overqualified
b. unsure
c. impolite
d. most likely to jump ship
e. plain stupid
f. a caveman
g. any or all of the above
Senorita, I'll tell you what. You forgot to add NONE OF THE ABOVE to the list. And if I'd be in a position where I could wish the agonies of the damned upon anybody I chose, YOU would win the prize. Plus tax.

Bollocks to public relations. The world as we know it today was defined by people who sucked at PR. And if YOU, Madame X think you're better than them, may you wallow in your ignorance for the rest of eternity. I'll make myself comfortable in my cave and see you in hell after I die.

I WILL try again in November because I believe ONE person out there is smart enough to understand me. If I still fail, I'll consider a career in suicide bombing. Hope I don't have to walk anybody thru my resume there.

I gotta go smoke some diesel fumes. Adios.

This is the first time in six months I've used "bitch" to describe a female. The promise I made to a friend stands broken.

Outsourcing Explained

bid my blood to run
before I come undone
save me from the nothing I've become

the picture is yours truly's creation, vaguely inspired by Scott Adams
text lifted directly from the song by Evanescance.

Numero Uno

Never dreamt Id be doing this. my "thoughts" are a crock of steaming shit. I simply do not understand why somebody would offer free space for people to write shit like
"I noticed a boil on my arse today... the size and color of a cherry".

I was going thru Mayur's collection of crap when I saw a link that said "Tanushree".
Dunno why, I just like that name. So I went ahead and clicked.
Something clicked in my head, too. I was motivated.
T., your writing rocks.

hasta la vista.