Dedicated to victims of obnoxious salon personnel.......

As late as it is, this post is dedicated to all those who had lost all their hair, got traumatized and scarred for life in the hands of  salon personnel at least once in their life.

This strange and frightening phenomena has been taking place from time immemorial, actually ever since the art of hair dressing has been introduced to this callous and dangerous human kind. Whatever you do, do NOT be fooled by that comfortable chair sitting smugly amidst a sea of various hair torturing equipment, for this is where many long, healthy and unsuspecting hairs had perished, shedding their very last breath, quivering, at the hands of an evil salon personnel.

Once you sit there, you are no longer a human being with opinions, wishes, likes or dislikes. You are just a head of hair, practice material, a playground for the evil saloner/saloness which waves suggestively, beckoning the salon personnel to come and practice their dark arts upon it. God forbid if you so much as knew what was good for yourself or your hair! The evil hair dressers will leer and jeer at you with sarcastic smiles on their faces as you stress upon what you want your hair to look like. While you demonstrate with all the talent you have got as to which length you prefer for your hair, what style you choose, the sinister looks on their well made up faces would spell only one thing- your hair is now MINE! ALL MINE!! Mua ha ha ha ha!!!(evil sinister laughter ensues) You should know that once you sit, you have already surrendered your soul to the devil. Once you sit, you cannot help but watch helplessly as large chunks of hair fall away, bidding their final goodbyes as they fall away, fallen warriors who dared enough to rise up to meet the fatal cut of the scissors and perished in return, leaving you with a broken mess that once upon a time used to be a glorious mane of long black hair that cascaded proudly down your back.

Why all the drama? It was only last week that an obnoxious hair dresser went ninja on my hair. Battle scars are still fresh and wounds have not yet healed. Picked up the pair of scissors and snip, snippety-snip she went, yanking, pulling while all the time, making rather ugly faces at my hair. As she snipped away to her heart's content I tried protest, but my humble attempt was silenced by a scorching look directed at me and I sank back into the chair defeated. Small as she was, armed with that large pair of very mean looking scissors that snapped at me from time to time like an angry piranha and a frown that meant business, she looked truly menacing. At the end of the whole ordeal as she smugly looked on at her hand work, I was left shocked, wild-eyed, wild-haired, with the larger part of what used to be my hair lying lifelessly on the floor. It was not what I envisioned for my hair at all. On my head was the obnoxious salonness's masterpiece. I was in no way impressed by her handy work.

Good news is its growing back rather rapidly. Oh well, I'l live.

So despite the many rumors that revolve around this prestigious prize, I decided to drop by and check out the scene of the Gratiaens this year. Well, things did seem awfully fishy when the sister of a shortlisted author came up to the stage, equipped with a very long speech because the author herself could not attend (it is harped upon insistently that the shortlisted authors will NOT be notified prior to the event) And later on, Ashok Ferrey himself came up to the stage to excuse the other absent finalist who had called him and told Ashok to deliver a few lines from him at the shortlisting since he could not be at the event himself. Maybe it was just coincidence that both these finalists seemed, and as the sister of the other finalist so openly claimed upon stage, to be very good friends of Ashok Ferrey? Or is it really a self-congratulatory award/event where the only qualification to be selected is to move around in the right (i)literati circles, attend the right parties and suck up to the right people as rumor has it? Surely to notify Ashok Ferrey prior to the actual announcement and for the other author to send her sister armed with a very well prepared speech, there must have been quite a lot of prior preparation which could only mean one thing. That they had known all along. But if in reality that is the case and the award is indeed already fixed, maybe be a tiny bit discreet about it and try not to be so obvious? If that really is the case its almost like a loud and thundering clap on the face of other participants as if saying, now look here, its great that y'all have sent in your entries but we have already chosen our own for the title long before you have sent in your entries!

Among this year's finalists are Ruwanthi de Chikera and Nadee Kammallaweera for Kalumali. I really truly hope that they will receive the prize this year for this absolutely brilliant piece.

All in all, an interesting week indeed!






  

Of tight skirts and men.............

What is it with skirts and men?

Wearing a regular office skirt, not very short, perhaps a little bit above the knee and crossing the road is quite an ordeal I've learnt of late. It makes vehicles slow down and toot their horns while some even can't help but flash their headlights full on. Quite a few sha's and shoos and wolf whistles too. Wonder why one does not get so much attention when wearing jeans.

Of tight skirts and men, one has a lot to tell. I've caught quite a few men, belonging to miscellaneous age groups staring at legs eagerly, literally drooling as one of colleagues described a personal experience just recently. Perhaps waiting for a glimpse of a mysterious world beyond the material? I will never understand.

Well, its not really the tight skirts alone, skirts in general, whether it be long, knee length  three-quarter length  etc attract the same attention. The material that fully covers the lower region of the female body, thereby transforming it into a land of unsolved mysteries and undiscovered treasures intrigues the men way too much I guess.

Speaking of skirts, I accidentally overheard this flea-brained woman on some talk show on TV talking about how men AND women are both responsible for rape. She went further to add some catty comment about women wearing jeans for which the moderator counter commented asking how would Susanthika win a bronze medal for us at the Olympics if she were to finish the race tumbling about in a saree. I wanted to give him a big, tight hug then. This was a talk show on World Women's Day mind you. It made me sad. This is the opinion of the average majority, that women go about asking to be raped, abused and maimed. I wonder if she has daughters. I wonder if she would slap her daughter senseless if she happened to come home raped, her cloths torn, her skin tattered and all battered up.

I know I haven't blogged in a while. Guilty of sheer and blatant procrastination, that I shamelessly admit to, hands down. I was thinking, if my procrastination was ever turned into an energy source, it would totally solve the nation's fuel crisis. Hell, I think I would even be able to solve it for the entire world! And before long, America would be waging war over me too! Aww.........................*touched*  

And here goes the Lady, robes swishing n all on her daily chores. Well rather, her weekend chores. Monday looms like a dark, ominous cloud (oh wait, I like dark, ominous clouds). Well let me rephrase that. Monday looms like a, like a lasagna gone bad, and there are things to be done before I dive in, head first into the rat race again. Sigheth........... Have a great week people. Hugs and kisses (the eating kind you find in the supermarkets mind) :)

 

Random post

Anybody else aware of the outrageously flirty Kelly Felder pretty boys? ;)

I've been a huge fan of the brand ever since they've just begun to put some of their stuff over at ODEL. Bought a pair of their jeans a good many years ago and had been hooked ever since. It was about a few years back they set up their own store and I must say, apart from the truly attractive gear they flaunt they have a brilliant marketing strategy - Hire the most good looking dudes and get them to flirt with the customers!  And I must say it works! Would the average female customer say no to a gorgeous hunk holding out a dress for them batting their eyelashes while starring soulfully into their eyes? I guess not :D

Although I must say, not every time do they have good attire. Most of the time the store is an absolute bore with nothing really grabbing your attention. But once in a blue moon they have drop-dead gorgeous stuff that you just can't keep your hands off. By that I mean cloths of course :P

Well its been an eventful couple of weeks, a period of revelations, enlightenment, harsh realizations and whatnot. Burst a few bubbles too along the way, which I think is a good thing. Looking back today, its been a good couple of weeks, a period of assessing one's own strengths and weaknesses and thereby achieving liberation. Well, partly. There's still a long way to go.

Yet another working week ahead and plenty of things to do. Novel still lagging behind, not a single word written on it. Something I've recently realized - I have wayyyy too many interests! And 24 hrs a day is just not enough for all of them! A tragedy in its own right indeed :(  

Also I suck at titles. Hence the title "Random post". Sigheth............ :/

Life right now and other tales

The weekend had been nonexistent. Things had just swished past with no trace at all to what had happened to the hours that usually drag by. The Lady had been dismayed. A novel awaits to be written, so does a collection of poetry to be edited and finalized. But before long the time has evaporated, like sweat before an air conditioner. Or the milk bowl before Franky, his Chewingness. Or chocolates when I'm around. Well, you get the drift.

The Lady has been doing the usual Monday morning tribal dance too, with much vigor and expertise. Sashaying, hip-hopping, stampeding, moonwalking, salsa-ying, ballet-dancing to and fro between the bathroom and the bedroom to the sound of mental tribal drums, juggling various outfits, shoes, piles of paper, books and the lot in the arms, hopping on one foot while trying to get a shoe on the other while brushing the hair out of the eyes with one hand and looking around to see if there's anything else that had been forgotten. All in tribute to the Weekend Gods of course, hoping they would come again soon.

Celebrated the 3rd year anniversary together the Darling and I. Nothing special, it being a working day, just coffee and dinner afterwards and a cruise around the town as usual, singing along to the radio, laughing like maniacs and chatting about random subject matter. Good times. Nice and comfortable we have grown together, like an old married couple. 3 years. Its like life did not exist before those 3 years. Yes, times have been trying from time to time but I guess that is a part of life and part of this deeply rooted condition that we refer to as love. I have every reason to believe that it is an incurable malady at times but a blissful one at that. We are one of those rare cases I guess, and I know for a fact that many would kill to have what we have, the way that we have it between us. So far, I have been blessed. Hoping against hope that the blessings will continue in life, love and happiness in times to come :)

Speaking of happiness, it is on the top of the list these days. Take each day as it comes and do the things that make me happy while avoiding what makes me sad. This is what I plan to implement in weeks to come. Happiness before anything. Motto for the next couple of weeks.

Raining cats and dogs outside. I can already hear Franky, my identity-confused doggy dancing around in the puddles. In my mind, I'm also dancing with him, while the rain poured all around us. Pure bliss it would have been if only I was allowed out at this time of the day :(

SriLankan airlines boo down

To the land of sarees and back. In one piece with not much of collateral damage. I am pretty sure that I shall burst out crying if anyone so much as mentions sarees within the next few weeks. The things I do for my brother!

I felt like kissing the non-urinated, non-desecrated, betel spit unstained ground at arrival in SL. The suffering had been great, both in-flight and abroad. But good cultural splash nevertheless. Even after years of living there seems I have not quite gotten used to certain factors of that life. 

Was thinking of the decline of the Sri Lankan Airlines over the years. Glorious were the times when food was served in elegant porcelain dishes and tea was served in beautiful porcelain cups and the staff was alluring and courteous. The food itself was quite tempting and tea, more than just drinkable. But this must have been about 10 odd years before. Now at this declining day and age, appalling food is served in plastic vessels and a bland lame excuse for tea (in a country that is renowned for its tea, this is what they serve in-flight??)  is served in weirdly shaped plastic cups which is a huge turn off in itself. The food is uneatable and the crew rather impersonal and self-important. They used to be warm and inviting, familiar and welcoming. How things have changed! If this is what they call the "best of Sri Lankan hospitality", they do leave me wondering about worse case scenarios.

Last year an air hostess poured hot tea over my fingers scalding them pretty badly. Turned out that my horrible tea cup had been cracked and nobody noticed. They did not even apologize, rather turned up the nose, brought another cup and left. Being a peace loving person I did not complain. Everybody said that I should have. Well next time, I'm determined. 

Unless you happen to fly business class, its quite hard for a local to get some respect from these overpaid in-flight waiters and waitresses. Regardless, we always end up flying SriLankan out of loyalty. 

Come to think of it, I think its a Sri Lankan thing. Even in a restaurant, the white skinned get served first and in a more polite and courteous manner. At a local shop, the foreigner gets the undivided attention while we have to hang around in the background until somebody bestows their precious attention on us poor local folk. Its pathetic really. Seems we have not gotten out of our colonial mentality just yet. 

I beseech you to please take a look around the world to see how loyal other nations are to their own kind. We Sri Lankans suffer the discrimination as we travel the world when the nationalities concerned would always favor their own. In our own country we are discriminated for being locals. And yet we go about posting "Sinhala Buddhist" rants on social media. Think we are just bored and we want somebody to hate. 

A good lot of Facebook patriots we have become. My wall is overflowing with racist and patriotic material while we get discriminated in local restaurants and local airlines because of our Sri Lankan origin.  

Coming back to the topic of Chennai, couldn't help but compare their food culture with our very own. Theirs is an unmixed food culture. Even with a samosa they would give their own gravy whereas we would pour half a bottle of ketchup over a perfectly beautiful dish here in SL. Its like we are neither here nor there whereas they are well aware of where they stand. Comparatively, their sense of culture is much stronger than our own whereas we are like sponges ever ready to soak up anything and everything that is trending in the world today.  

Nevertheless the maximum amount of days you can eat their food is one and half. After a while it starts tasting the same and bland. I got myself craving for hot Sri Lankan chicken curry and that is novel for someone such as myself who is not the world's greatest spice fan. So I hand one to Sri Lanka in their culinary skills and the flavorsome dishes of a wide variety which never really bores you even when you've pigged out on them your entire life. 

Also, why is it that these people never smile? They have a perpetual frown on their faces that rivals the painful constipation evident on the face of Kristen Stewart. Also it seems that they have scared away the stray doggies from the roads with their own horrendous excrement. Its not an uncommon sight to see a man with his zipper down just peeing away at an unsuspecting wall or a woman with her saree hitched up, squatting on the ground doing their business in broad daylight. What you have to look out for while on these streets is not dog poop but human waste. Ten points for Sri Lankans for common decency, their easy smiles and cleanliness in general. 

All in all, its a part and parcel of the experience and India would not be India without the entire hullabaloo of madness and chaos. Its charming all the same, quite unique I should say. However, SO glad to be back. Seems that even years of living in India has not really got me integrated into their chaotic system just yet.  

Coming home is always pleasant when you have got someone waiting for you. Its an absolutely beautiful feeling. The fact that you've been missed brings a whole new definition to the life that you have been living so far. Suddenly you realize that you do matter to someone and even if it is just one person, it means the entire world. That is one good thing about travelling, there is always that warm and fuzzy feeling to come back home to which makes your entire month. But sometimes when expectations shatter even for a little while, it does sting quite a lot. That's the beauty and ugly of travel. You don't really know if you will be missed. Or if anyone even noticed you were gone.  

Why??

Why is it that the victims in all these horror movies insist on running in the middle of the road when they are being chased by a car (or truck or bulldozer, etc)? Why doesn't it ever occur to them that they should get off the road (at least run on the pavement like a good pedestrian should) or run into one of the gazillion buildings that line the either side of the road when the killer is trying to run them down? It's annoying just to watch. And then they scream like its the Goddamned apocalypse when they are being run down. Idiots.

Why is it that it always happens that the bad guy, whether it be a cold-blooded serial killer, a chainsaw-bearing blood thirsty wackjob, or a saintly looking creep with pedophile tendencies just happen to listen to metal music? The twisted ones always have rock music blaring out of their beat up campers (why do they have to live in beat up campers in the first place?) Is metal music the music of the bad people I ask? Or is it supposed to twist one's mind to the point of lusting after blood extracted the most imaginative way possible? Honestly, its insulting!

Well at least they are extremely creative in their murders. So maybe that is a comfort (or is it a discomfort? *scratching head*).

And I think that wars are much more interesting when fought with swords, spears, bows and arrows and the like. Guns, bombs and nuclear weapons are SO boring! The modern man has become a regular lazy bum. No wonder Gerard Butler, despite his ridiculous costume of cape and underwear in 300 manage to look so friggin' hot! *swoon*

If I became the ruler of the universe, I would destroy all guns, missiles and nuclear weapons. Wars shall be fought with muscle, sword, bow and arrow and the like. If a nation dares use guns and modern day warfare, I will annihilate their entire nation. I mean come on. There is no real purpose to war anyway. So at least make this utter pointless occasion of people killing other people a little more enjoyable for the others to watch eh?

Also, its a legendary fact specially in Sri Lankan cinema and television that the bad guys are long haired and bearded  They often have piercings and tattoos to go along with it too. Sigh..........talk about stereotyping!

And why is it that good ideas always come when ur just about to fall asleep? You have to drag yourself out of bed just so you can jot them down lest you should forget afterwards (like I always do).

Sound of the household waking up. Dearest Darling parents wrestling a slipper out of Frankenstein's (Frankenstein chews-a-lot- my Doggy Dearest) jaws while bribing him with his morning bowl of milk. Frankenstein in his daily frantic round of early morning exercise. (mad dog running while being chased by a knife-bearing leprechaun I call it) Well, happy sights and sounds :)

The art of wait

If there is something that I absolutely despise in the world that would be waiting. Whether it be waiting for photos to upload, dressed and waiting for others to get ready, waiting for a response to an email, waiting for a much awaited call, waiting till a much awaited day, waiting is a tedious task.

If I had it my way, I would annihilate the act of waiting from the world. I would take it off dictionaries, revise the lexicon, fine anybody and everybody who uses the word or practices the act. I despise waiting.

Why so whiny? I'm in the process of uploading some pics and they J U ST  W O N T  U P L O A D!!

Was watching the whole hullabaloo of the CJ affair on news yesterday. The Police were playing God Almighty when the media wanted to speak to the former CJ now evacuating her territory. While a chubby butter ball of a police personal (full of bullshit or just overfed on bullshit?) insisted that she is just a normal citizen now and therefore the media cannot speak with her, a media person asked the million dollar question - Does not an ordinary citizen have the right to express his or her opinion anymore? (heart sang for the sheer timely brilliant awesomeness of the question, traa la la!) Whoever asked that question deserves a trophy of world's finest ice cream topped with chocolate sprinklings, chocolate mousse, a large dollop of chocolate topping and 25 of the world's sweetest cherries. I felt like giving him a big, fat, sloppy kiss!

All that aside, the way that most media channels presented the entire ordeal to the public was just precious. Even Swarnavahini is sounding as hilarious as the ITN now, while they accused the lawyers of trying to create trouble and calling the handful of the bus-faced hired goons as the "general public" rooting on the appointment of the new CJ in front of the Supreme Court. The Darling says we must understand that they are all in it for the gain and that they should save their own necks first but it IS frustrating all the same.

Well I might as well forget the frustration and go munch on a chocolate or something.

Coming back to the earlier topic of waiting, I am changing my mind about rejecting the task. I suppose there are good kinds of waiting (No, I'm NOT talking about the irritating wait for photos to upload, which btw is STILL going on, Gaaaaaah!!) and just got reminded that I myself have got several delightful things to wait for and look forward to in the near future (Yeeyy!!)

But then again I learnt to take pleasure in the little joys of life from a very young age. Nothing new, just a fact of life.

I suppose we all need something to look forward to in order to get out of bed each day eh? Could be as small as the first gulp of tea in the morning or a big tight hug that will linger on for hours afterwards. Or it can be as big as a change in path, career, residence, country, etc. But is waiting the same as looking forward to I wonder. Whatever it is I suppose it's necessary. This I suppose is what everybody calls a "purpose" in life.

Yet I'm looking at the uploading tool and this little voice in my mind screeches : Photos, WHY YOU NO UPLOAD!?!?! (knives clanking at the back of head while nunchuks  clash against one another). Yes the Lady has had enough!