The Friday Five: Totally Wasted

After stuffing myself to the gills during Christmas, I went back to college and promptly resumed doing nothing. As always, nothing happens, and this is why you, beloved reader, are being treated to a monologue on how I waste my time, courtesy Friday Five. You can thank me later. And read carefully, I will ask questions at the end. (This is how our teachers start a class.)

1. What is your biggest waste of time in your home?

My textbooks*. I hit the books the minute I get home, and keep at it until I take a shower. I get back to the books before my hair dries, and stay with them until dinnertime. I check my email (you have no new messages), and return to wrestling with the textbooks, until I need toothpicks to keep my eyes open. The trouble with this is, the bigger ones hit me back, and all of them weigh more than I do. And yesterday I found out I was actually supposed to open them and read, not keep bashing them. Ah, woe is me!

2. When at work, what is the activity that you find wastes the most time?

Classes. They just want to protect the lecture halls from becoming termite food, and we provide the perfect solution.

3. When getting busy with a date or significant other, what ritual could you do without?

The 'date' or the 'significant other' not showing up. Never have either of them presented themselves before me. *sigh*

4. What is the biggest waste of time on the Internet?

The Internet is not a waste of time. And StumbleUpon is not addictive.


5. What do you do at a restaurant to waste time when waiting for your meal?
That is what cell phones are for, if friends are unavailable. At the college canteen (eating there is the easiest way to poison yourself), a commentary about the varying expressions of pain on the other patrons' faces is called for, until our meal arrives and we make our own faces. If we are at some swanky place (at the expense of some individual unlucky enough to be born, and thus, have a birthday) and we don't get a table, a graphic description of the vaginal hysterectomy we saw that day (or many years previously) in a loud voice does the trick. After we have ordered our meal (an hour long process, involving much name calling and arguing), we consider it our duty to remind the sponsor about the complex process known as ageing, and the diseases associated with it. It is soon followed by someone (there is always somebody who does this) remarking that if we went around to the back, we would see our waiter energetically pursuing a chicken, which is the prompt for the others to make similar imbecile comments about the waiter venturing out to sea with a fishing line or sacrificing goats. We continue in this line, until the smells from the next table reach us, and all of us practise breathing exercises. Pictures of the 'Birthday Grandpa/Grandma' and their 'friends' in different crazy poses are snapped, and then, having nothing else to do, we start telling jokes, with punchlines like, 'he wanted to see the butter fly'. In the ensuing uproar, the rest of the patrons walk out giving us dirty looks, and the waiters ask us to leave the premises. We refuse to leave on empty stomachs, and we are served our food in record time.

Ooh, Arch has a birthday in a couple of weeks. Yay! On second thoughts, I think we may have run out of restaurants where we don't have a lifetime ban.

Those of you who did not die of sleep apnoea, answer this: Why did the boy throw his toast out the window?

God, I am SO funny.

*Lucky for me my Mom does not read my blog. Neither does the rest of the world, but that is beside the point.

Of Blogs and Rats and Me

Why do I blog?
This is as good an answer as any.

At this point, I'd like to inform everyone that Stephan Pastis (may he live forever and continue to draw Pearls) owns Pearls Before Swine. I don't. Copyright and all that, everything, belongs to Pastis & Co.

Pearls is my favourite strip. Not that kind of strip, perv. Comic strips. The kind they put in newspapers. Like, say, Dilbert. Anyway, about Pearls. It's my favourite strip (I love repeating myself). Not Calvin & Hobbes (it's a close second), not Garfield (third, like Ender), not Dilbert (it's nowhere on the list), not {insert name of comic strip here}, it's Pearls Before Swine that's my favourite. The title is taken from a line in the Bible, that goes something like, thou shalt cast no pearls before swine. The strip is about a bunch of anthropomorphic animals that live in a city, alongside humans. Humans don't appear in the strip very often, and when they do, they don't find talking animals unusual at all.

The humour is dark, it often comes across as insensitive, there are plenty of people lobbying for the un-syndication of Pearls, it pokes fun at many serious issues, but, bottom line is, I find it funny. Funny as in 'hahahaha if I laugh any more I'll die' funny.
Pearls, for the lack of better words, is me. I can identify with all of the main characters in the strip, except one. God, not that one, please.

The hero, Rat, is the personification of our greatest vices. And I don't count greatness as a vice. I think, when things get really really sticky, we think about our own skins alone. I don't mean that we are all always uncaring monsters, we do give lots of damns about our loved ones, it's just that we love our own selves a little more. Take unrequited love, for instance. X (yeah, took me an hour think up the name) loves Y (it was easier this time, only 45 minutes). But Y does not love X (big surprise, huh?). X is sad (understatement of the year) because (duh!) Y does not love X. What I'm trying to say is, although X loves Y, all X is wants is another person to love X. There is no such thing as an unselfish act. No, that's too general. I have never come across a completely unselfish act. Think about it.
Rat is the personification, or more accurately, the rodentification, of the worst of many of my faults, magnified into something enormous that fits into the body of a rat. He is a self-centred, cynical, cruel, sarcastic, insensitive, totally hateful megalomaniac. I know myself well enough to realise that I have a nasty streak in me. I don't kick small children, but I'm tempted to, if they bug me. I need to use a lot of restraint when it comes to not pulling their hair out by the roots when they do that to me, the force of temptation being directly proportional to the age of the child. Rat is multi-talented, he writes children's books and romance novels, owns a tabloid (The National Enquirat), and is also a highly successful (what else?) lawyer.

Pig, Rat's roomie, is, well, a little dumb. He says and does a lot of things that are misunderstood, because he did not know they could be taken the wrong way. He is innocent, not very worldly-wise, shy, insecure, a little slow, a misfit among his peers (he likes bacon). I wish I could say I'm nothing like him, but the truth is that I'm too much like him for comfort. But he's also very sweet, a description that, sadly, does not apply to me.
Rat: If you could have a conversation with one person, living or dead, who would it be?
Pig: The living one.
[pause]
Pig: You must really think I'm stupid.

Goat is quite intelligent, a loner, prefers books to people, is always the butt of Rat's ridicule, and easily exasperated by stupidity and apathy. He can't stand Rat, either, but it's always Rat who gets the last word. Goat keeps a blog that no one reads. Yes, I know, the resemblance is uncanny.

Zebra is a very ordinary sort of guy, but unfortunately, prey. There are all kinds of predators waiting to eat him, or one of his herd members back home in Africa. He's an idealist, trying to make the predators more understanding about the plight of becoming eaten. Not a particularly easy task, when staying alive is hard enough. He also has a lot of principles that he lives by, and he finds it frustrating when they are paid no heed. I could write entire books on the subject.

Most people have guard dogs, but Pig has a Guard Duck. His solution to every problem, small or big, is his rocket launcher. Not a bad idea, that. Nothing like a rocket launcher to stop others from being annoying.

Da Brudderhood of Zeeba Zeeba Eata. The dumbest Crocs on earth live next door to Zebra, and are such incompetent predators that they have to subsist on take out from KFC. Da only seemilareety between da Crocs and me ees dat me sometimes talk like dem. But that could be because I'm addicted to Pearls.


The jokes in the strip are my favourite kind- horrible puns that would leave my victims writhing in agony.
Rat: I saw my cousin Gene today.
Pig: Is he the guy that runs marathons?
Rat: Yeah, but he's a real jerk ... nobody in my family likes him.
Pig: It must be tough to have a bad Gene that runs in the family.

I hope everyone liked the new display picture. And do check out Pearls here. You can read the Wikipedia entry on Pearls here. Enjoy.

There are dozens of recurring characters, like Danny Donkey, Farina, Stromoski, and Angry Bob, who is the hero of the romance novels Rat writes, but none of them are, well, me. The day I become Angry Bob is the day I die (pun intended). Plus the strip is really complex, with cross overs, pop culture references, running gags, and all. In short, just like life. But taken in in its entirety, the strip is totally me.

I'd like to remind everyone that all of the pictures I have used here, and the characters, are the property of Stephan Pastis, the creator of Pearls, and that the copyright and things belong to him.

There are very few things for which I have strong feelings, humour is one of them. My tastes are another. There are a few more, but Medicine tops the list. I also love stating the obvious. I don't know how boring this has been, I talk seriously only about issues that are very close to my heart.

From now on, I'll be ending all my posts on this blog with a joke that I find funny. I'm going to call it *drumroll* Postal Joke.
Pig: What are you reading?
Goat (holding book): It's a mystery.
Pig: Have you checked the title page?