Banana Love

Poo said: Let’s play a prank on Smitten this Valentine’s Day – Two big bananas in a battered carton from “Paapa Raju”.

Kay said: Sure thing.

(Kay connects Poo to Smitten’s sister so she can help pull this one off, and silly plans are made to make the delivery look realistic.)

Smitten says: I know all about the prank.

*Kay shrugs*

Smitten continues: So, two small bananas for Poo instead.

Kay says: Sure thing.

(Kay goes on to connect Smitten to Poo’s cousin so she can help pull this one off, and silly plans are made to make the double cross possible.)

D V-Day 2012: Poo would like all and sundry to know that she was touched - by the bananas!

Roses are Red,
Violets are Blue,
I will always be,
Bananas about you.

Hairy is my chest,
Twirly are my toes,
Waiting for you to tickle 'em,
And I'll laugh away my woes!

Lots of love, hugs and sloppy kisses,
Your Paapa Valentine!

From The Bottom Of My Philanthropic Heart

Dear Universe,

I just checked Section 5 of ‘The Laws of Boomerang’ and it clearly states that one good deed does in fact deserve another.

Anyway, here’s my problem.  I chose to donate a teensy-weensy amount of money to Wikipedia sometime last October or November. Why? Well, I figured it made perfect sense to donate money towards a knowledge base that’s pretty much my only source of entertainment (In a secret aside: Yeah, yeah, it’s for those five minute breaks every normal human being needs at work.) these days, thanks to them things called firewalls.  Not wanting to seem like Scrooge, I chose the middle path (a.k.a $35.00). Universe, please note that I did not complain when December introduced the Indian Rupee scheme and a middle path that was way cheaper. You’d think that The Laws of Boomerang would send appreciation my way for this, but no – I just get, Poo! Here’s what I’ve had to put up with for a while now:

• Poo laughing her gills off at my moment of purity,
• Poo mocking me because I missed the Rupee window by a wide berth,
• Poo sending me a spate of emails urging me to donate money to Firefox,
• Poo asking me to overcome the trauma of the Wikipedia Blackout by suggesting ways to circumvent it,
• Poo threatening me with Firefox blackouts if I keep ignoring her “Donate to Firefox” emails.

So tell me Universe, how is Poo “crap” the boomerang effect of “un moment de charité”? Tell me, tell me, do!

Yours in-a-sulk,

KO.

P.S. Please tell Poo that I will invoke the right to put “Kann-on-Kann” if she continues to stab my illogical, philanthropic heart with her custom-made, ivory-handled dagger!

By The Powers Of Kaotic

By the powers of Kaotic, I give thee a new year filled with silver and gold, and a fairytale old.

Not your cup of happiness? All right then, by the powers of Kaotic I give thee a hat filled with wishes that last till the year of the cat.

Don’t believe me? *angry yowl*  BY THE POWERS OF KAOTIC, I TURN THEE INTO A CAT!!!

Still don’t believe me? Well then, it’s time we went back to the time Kaotic turned her Mother into a cat.

Once upon a time there was a lass named Kaotic who believed in fairies and magic. Her magic potion was invisible and was churned out of a lovely little golden-yellow jar that belonged to her Aunt’s dressing table. One afternoon, when all was quiet in the land of Aymanam (aka the place where her grandparent’s house stood) she chose to impress the young maid with her magical prowess. In a show of might and power she declared that she would turn her Mother (napping in one of the bedrooms with her baby sister) into a cat.

“Abracadabra, blah-di-blah – pfft,” she dramatically muttered as she pulled her invisible magic potion out of the jar and pointed her hand with a flourish towards the dining table, where lo and behold, a cat landed. 

Kaotic’s might was replaced by fright as she had no clue whatsoever to undoing the spell she’d cast on her Mother. Kaotic’s grandparents stepped into the living room just then and noticed that their 6 year old granddaughter was standing in the middle of the room close to tears. “Ammachy, Appachy,” she cried, “I turned Mummy into a cat and I don’t know how to turn her back into Mummy. I want my Mummy back.” Her grandfather (Appachy) calmly asked her to peek into the bedroom through the key hole and all would be well. Sure enough, there lay Kaotic’s Mum beside her baby sister blissfully unaware of the shape shifting she’d been through in the past few minutes. Reassured, Kaotic smiled before turning warily towards the dining table. The cat had magically disappeared.

Done with the dark side of magic, Kaotic swore never to indulge in it again.

Oops…oh well, a promise is a promise, so, by the “good will” of Kaotic, I simply wish thee a Very Happy New Year.

Draw From The Well That Never Shall Run Dry

Like the woman at the well, am I seeking things that cannot satisfy?

Dear 2.3 Readers,

Kaotic’s been doing some thinking of late thanks to the ups and downs of this thing called life. She is well aware of the fact that these ups and downs are all a part of the work-in-progress that is both her and her life. Her mental mish-mash of ideas and thoughts tend to change, gain clarity, lose clarity, all the while absorbing (hopefully!?) the wisdom that trickles in through the passage of time.

Looking closer, she notices a certain pattern. No matter how tough or easy the situation, only honest acceptance of the problem at hand opens the door to the next phase. And in her case, with a little help from her good friend, “the written word!”

Of course, staying on track is no easy matter as Kaotic is a long way away from all those things that embody enlightenment. Hence the mantra “one day at a time” was added to her “go with the flow” chant.

Then comes the time when Kaotic’s faith in her chant begins to waver and lose direction. What’s special, you ask?  Nothing really, but every time this happens someone or something usually comes to Kaotic’s rescue.

The last time, she found comfort and a strengthening of resolve and purpose through Paulo Coelho’s ‘Aleph’ and an essay written by Amber Adrian.  Coelho’s book reminded her that she was indeed the master of her destiny and more importantly, that she couldn’t lay the blame at fate’s door.

Strength of will renewed, Kaotic moved on, one day at a time but began to lose focus as she is wont to do. Enter Amber Adrian and her insightful essay, ‘Eyes On Your Own Paper’ (You can find the essay here.): they reminded Kaotic to stay “focused on her paper” in no uncertain terms.

And so, Kaotic girded her loins and prepared to march on through muddied waters until she found pure shores.

Yours “in an insane moment of sanity”,

Kaotic. 

Your Christmas Bonus: Lost for Better by Amber Adrian. You're welcome.

As day turns to night and night to day,

I hold onto Thy hand – an invisible ray.

~~~~~~

The “Not that you asked” Section!

1.   Why did you write this in the 3^rd person?

Because I love doing that and I’d be disappointed in you, my 2.3 readers, if you hadn’t figured this one out already.

 

2.  2.3 readers?

I’ve increased the count from 1.5 to 2.3 as parts of 1.5 were getting testy about it, so after giving the matter some deep thought I’ve finally decided that 2.3 is my new “true blue” number. Now be gracious and accept it, my peeps.

3.   Recommended reading?

1.0 – I’m sure you’ll enjoy Aleph as you did Brida.

0.5 – They’re both worth a shot.

0.4 – The essay goes up on your wall. Do it already!

0.4 – I’m not sure it’s your cup of tea but hey, surprise me.

Immaculate Misconception

A long, long, time ago, I can still remember……..Okay, this post has nothing to do with Madonna or “The Madonna.” It’s just an old memory of an x-ray room, me and a rather strange Q&A session.

I had to do a whole bunch of tests and an ultrasound was just a part of the whole package, not to forget the all-important x-ray. An x-ray sounds simple enough but I was a tad confused with all the instructions that were printed out about the dress code. After a lot of thought about just how much I had to disrobe, I did what I had to do and wrapped myself in the green garb that I’d been given. I walked into the x-ray room, made a mention of “good ole Aunt Flo” with regard to my non-adherence to the rule of nudity (behind the green veil, of course) and proceeded to play the role of a dead body in a mortuary. The man went about his duties with precision and all seemed well with the world and my spine, until he stepped out of the room to ask the fatal question.

The x-ray man asked my friend if I was pregnant. WHAT!?! WHY!?! I was confounded and then terrified. I lost my sense of reason and panicked all the way to the ultrasound room. “Oh my God,” I thought, “what if I really was pregnant!?” Nothing seemed impossible at that moment. Ironically, the sterile environment seemed to have had an adverse effect on my brain. It obviously rendered both staff and patient brain dead, so much so, I was almost disappointed when the baby did not appear on the screen – Almost!

Baby or no baby, I still find it hard to believe that I lost "it" over something my friends and I now call “The Immaculate Misconception”.