A few things.

Colours.
WTF. My facebook page has been full of women posting the colours of the bras they are currently wearing. I mean come on! This is bloody unfair. When I asked "excuse pliss sweetie, what colour bra you are wearings?" all I got was one tight slap from girl and a lathi up my you know what from friendly neighborhood policewaala. So that resulted in me being black and blue. Now same "sweeties" are revealing the same bleddy information to all and sundry. Wot it is!!

While recovering from said beating in hospital a very kind young lady in next gurney informed me...well not me, she was telling someone over her posh new droid phone all this while I shamelessly eavesdropped. Apparently 'tis all "in aid of breast cancer" it seems.Before you ask me how publicizing the colour of one's bra is going to help fight breast cancer let me abuse you for being an ignoramus. Do you not know that publicizing one's bra colour will help by...err..err..umm. well. hang on. What is the blooming hurry men?

Anyhow. Changing the subject quickly. I feel women should go one step ahead. They should next post measurements also. Now that would be fun. Those that are economists can have fun calculating the "inflation" of those "figures".Fun with SPSS.

Seriously but, breast cancer is a serious issue. There are several websites that urge people, well mostly those of the female persuasion to carry out self exams such as this one

Well if you do not want to do a self exam, get on public transport in India, and several exams will be done for you free of cost, but results might not be reported in a satisfactory manner.

Men get breast cancer too apparently*, how do we support breast cancer- I meant spreading awareness about it not support it like, oh its an awesome thing everyone should get it at least once (I've had it 5 times myself) Do we go out to the victoria's secret shoroom and pick one up, wear it and then declare to the world on facebook? It will lead to a lot more entertainment.


Now we shall move on to another topic of importance. Testicular and prostate cancer.
Now I suggest that in support of these we should openly declare the colour of our underwear. For instance, tomorrow I will go to the gym wearing a jockstrap that used to be grey in colour, but is not due to various factors (which we shall not mention here,being too numerous and embarrassing to enumerate here)are now of an indeterminate colour that is neither dark nor light.
Comeon men it is time to rally around. It is possible to live without breasts, but think about living without your bollocks...Whassat? You aren't a villager? You don't drive bullocks? What do you drive then a Skoda - LAURA?
That is one interestingly named car, leads to many akward sitations

Memsahib to driver.

M: Driver, Laura nikalo.
Driver: Jo hukum memsahib.
Memsahib faints.



Now that you have recovered from the gut wrenching caused by the thought of living without cojones, let me remind you of it again. What would you do for recreation when watching Shakeela films eh? You will have to donate your porn collection. Your mums will wonder why your showers are so short all of a sudden.
On the other hand, there would be no wars, fights, rapes and such likes -But that is no fun.

So join me in this important cause. Please announce the colour of said piece of undergarment on facebook status, if you prefer going Au naturel, then please mention.



* For men, the lifetime risk of getting breast cancer is about 1/10th of 1% (1 in 1,000). (American Cancer Soc.)
Ok I know that is not a standard format for citation, but you aren't my advisor, so I don't really care...at least I hope you aren't. If you are reading this Dr A, this is not me, it is someone else?
(That should keep the adviser confused for a while)

'Pipe'r at the gates of Dawn.

The Saturday dawned bright and clear.Cold. It had been the coldest night, I've ever experienced. The ancient heating system in my 100 year old house couldn't manage to keep up with changing times, ole Jack Frost won the race apparently, I was oblivious to all this until the morning. I kept postponing getting out from underneath the covers until my bladder sank to its knees and begged me to help alleviate its suffering. Now as the bladders suffering is by 'extension' my problem as well, I managed to crawl out and head to the bathroom.

I lifted the seat and was about to download when I noticed that all was not fresh and new in a Scandinavian country. There seemed to be a server error. Looking into the great porcelain God, I was amazed to see, something usually seen inside freezers or old-fashioned glasses. Ice Ice Baby.

After this sudden 404 type error, there was only one thing to do. Find alternative forms of ener..err I mean find alternate site to download (or should it be upload..I'm not quite sure. So I quickly put on all my protective gear(read coat and boots and so on..what were you thinking?)and set out on operation Bladder Blast(Prevention). It was quite warm by then, a blazing -8 Centigrade. I set out to look for a loo. I tried looking for an outlet in the backyard, but exposing my little friend to the elements might have had a less than happy ending with the two anmol ratans escaping the mother ship and thus rendering my future kids bastards (I know it doesn't make sense, stop nit picking). Alternatively it could have been a new experiment in cryogenic preservation, but I somehow did not want to take the risk.

Forgetting it was winter break I bravely trudged (while doing the most entertaining dance, as those familiar with the bladder blast phenomenon will testify to)to the nearest university building only to find it closed. Shocking passers-by with my language ( not that they were familiar with the nomenclature of various female relatives in three Indian languages or that of depraved acts of a sexual nature, but then again, this being New Jersey, one never knows...In Alabama, they, I am told have a better understanding of these matters, not the language so much).

I then went to the next closest building, that to , no surprise , was closed. Giving up I turned and looked for a nice secluded place where I could ahem download, I found it, and just as I was getting down to business: Whom should approach but one of the tribe with the legendary long arm. Not looking forward to spending time in a cold prison, with 300 pound guys called Bubba and Junior, wiser counsel prevailed (my own of course) and I ran away, dancing now, more than ever. I suddenly remembered. GAS. No no, it wasn't the added complication of the previous night's Chole making its belated presence felt. Just down the road there was a "gas" station. I do not think there has ever been an environmental science waala who has been so happy to see the logo of a petroleum company. Anyhow. All was well that ended in the well. I called the landlord and he got the place fixed, it took him 3 days. Thankfully the drain pipe from the toilet did not burst, but the ones from the shower and wash basin did.

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Prize given to the best Gigolo in town: the Man-Hooker prize.

I like New Jersey. It is like another state of India.

I can get Old Monk and Kingfisher in the liquor store. Henceforth all "Liquor Stores" in NJ will be referred to as "Thekas". Oh and we also get Golden Eagle beer, RC and Peter Scot Whiskeys.

There is an Indian Chinese Restaurant called .....Hold your breath "Nanking". Well the Manchurians were not half as good as those served in its namesake, but nothing says India more than......err Chinese food.

Desis are everywhere. In the stores, in classes, where ever you go. There we are. Check your pockets you might find some there also.One of the Engg. classes has 36 Indians in a total strenght of 38.

No Irani cafes thus far, but my landlord is Iranian. Does that count?

...and now for something completely different.