I am feeling extremely WACKY today! Wacky enough to post that I'm feeling wacky...... Wacky wacky woooooooooo.......... (PS am not drunk, and I ain't into drugs :D)
The superior lateral rectus muscles (not the rectum dunce heads, it’s the eye muscles), forced my balls (am talking about the eye you perverts) towards the subjects line of sight. The iris stretched to focus the lens in a way that my retina could get a spot signal. Instant pupil dilation occurred as I saw this “God Worked” beauty in her early 20’s walking towards me. It wasn’t a low skirt or a showy top, but a queen garbed white angelic attire that led me drool tea all over the grass (actually I burnt my tongue and had to spit the tea).
Before even the thought of me getting up from my spot and walking behind her (sometimes the testosterone takes control of my limbs – no offense), she moved towards me and sat gracefully away from me on the lawn (about 4 meters). I didn’t know how long I’ve been mesmerized in her elegance, but one thing was sure – the Tea was slurrrrped to the paper. Then from nowhere, her boyfriend came into the scene (Curiosity filled me instead of jealousy – PS what am I supposed to be jealous about?). From my past experiences of spending time with friends of the other sex, I would conclude that her boy friend was of the “cute” kind from a girls point of view (From my point of view, he looked like any other ordinary guy). Anyways, back to the romance.
A few minutes into their discussion (it was clearly audible, but being a guy who respects privacy I mentally closed my auditory sense and loved the atmosphere), the guy gave a gesture of apologies. With the girl refusing acceptance of an apology, the guy walked towards the nearby tulip grown patch, snapped a red colored tulip off its twig and offered it to her. With mere zero plus experience in such situations, my curiosity for some science led me to open up my auditory senses and I waited for what a woman says in such a lively worldly situation.
“Thank You Fred! But don’t pick flowers that won’t grow again. EVEN for me.”
Yes, I was shocked by this girl’s response (Guess she was a freshman botanist. Even now I have no clue whether tulips grow from a broken stem or not?). The guy just smiled, and gave his apologies one more time, to which she refused acceptance ‘one more time’. Now they walked off after the usual goodbye kiss (Guess the goodbye kiss was for people watchers like me, coz they walked together holding hands).
Now I am not the kind of guy who ‘Sighs!’ about the state of my relationship and spoils the rest of my lovely mood and fun life (my lows are for a few seconds and that’s it). But, as I had ample time before I ran back to my lab to take a sample out, I fantasized about the situation I just now witnessed.
“What would you do Hari? If a beautiful girl like her tells you about not picking up flowers that might not grow?”, I questioned myself
“Wait here!” is what I would say, run to the tulip patch, use my cap to shovel out the sand, carefully separate the root of the stem from the manure enriched mushy sand and uproot the whole stem with the red tulip, go to the nearby coffee shop (where I had the tea), get a to go box, convert it into a temporary to-go pot, fill it partially with sand, wet it with bottled water, and then bring it to her and offer it to her (of course the bottle of water too for my hot girl). And then, I would say with a warm smile right from the heart, “A pretty flower for my pretty lady.” Once she takes it, I would pour some water in my hands, and sprinkle it over the tulip and of course on her beautiful face too.
“Yuck! Phffffbbbt….. Even the taste of that horrible Tazo Tea feels good” was the thought that hit me and I woke from the fantasy and decided to run to my lab and read a paper. Seriously romance and I, don’t go together. I can even give consent over my nomination for Presidency for
Couple of seconds near the end of the usual route, the view curtained out into a long wishing scenic place called 'Shaker Village'. Slim stretches, green patches fenced in Victorian wood, decrypted ranches, spirited gliding galloping horses, colorful brick walled houses, and the reflection of the sun setting right in front of me, made me throttle harder. Except the momentous shift of the right hand re-playing ‘Anbe Enanbe’ from Dhaam Dhoom for the umpteenth time, the fingers were tight. The opposite traffic whizzed analogous to swarming bees, my cars axle was tested to its maximum. A new sign came. 25 mph sharp right and instantaneously, the accelerator was cut off. 90 to 60 took more than a couple of seconds as expected. The knee rolled out and forced the feet towards the brakes. But the feet was tightened at the ankle and it waited, it waited for the hands to grip out stiff, and the eyes tangentiated the yellow solid center line along the wheel's circle enforcing Schumacher wide turn tip.
Half way successfully through the turn, the car was sitting at its edge. There, my pupil dilated, fingers ironed out, ankle yielded to push the brakes and above all, hair goosebumped – the coyote/small wolf just stared at my cars lights. Brakes had its purpose of slowing the rate of arrival at the coyote’s grave, but instead of decelerating, the tires swept across the road with a screech into a slide. He evaded the scene before the crimed murder took place and jumped across the fence. I veered the wheel the other way to avoid a slide into the shoulderless grass patch and hit the fence and flip out. One small crevice in the road, and the car fulcrumed into a lever backfire. The CD’s from the sun screen pouch frisbeed onto my forehead, the juice at the back seat just threw itself off towards the front seat, the stumps at the trunk banged the rear glass and worst of all, the momentum made my seat belt get taught. It hurt my injured chest. My eyes tried to cringe, but the adrenaline was already doing its duty to keep my pupil dilated and eyelids stretched out.
A strange feeling hit me. I knew, this is the point of no return, no correction, no way to escape the fear of death. Time stood still, thoughts of an option to find a solution blanked out, and the whole world seemed to run backwards. There weren’t questions, not doubts, not the dreams, neither was the destiny, nor were the achievements, and so not were the permanent memories and not were the incorrigible blunders in life. But a few faces, foreheads folded, worried about something projected into my sight. Either my mind went into a state of shock so deep enough that it provoked a hallucination so realistic, that I felt bad, unhappy and guilty for making these faces get apprehensive. “Not even a safe crash would assure my existence. The nearest emergency hub is at least twenty miles off the snaky sweeping roadway” and I spiraled back to the micro second I was fighting to live my options with.
Instincts are perspective of experience disguised as a blessing of trust. The fingers opened out yet arcing a mesh of airy grip around the wheel, while the foot over the brakes yielded soft. Inertia did its job. The momentum brought me back into the battle field. One more correction was vital and my thoughts were blocked to find the adjustment required at this crucial moment. The strangest thought/memory/face/event/doubt/blunder hologramed into one ‘indescribable feeling!’ The whole body synced into a single weapon and it defined the path to defy death. One microsecond later, the world spun faster, and the cold air hit my face and I realized that I am still alive. A nodding smile came broad into the curve and I reasoned out the feeling. I knew I would never see the answer, but I tried hallucinating one. It proved probably improbable.
My mind started going into the questionable paralysis. I decided, “Now or never” and chased faster than before. Thirty minutes later, after overtaking almost a dozen cars, twice patching up a pack of 4 wolves nearly avoiding a honk from the oncoming traffic, I slowed down. A new question added up to the armory of my troubles. “Who Cares?”
About five years earlier, I walked with a bandaged right shoulder into my class room and told the truth of sliding purposefully from my bike against a blinded Tata Sumo, just to save an unattended child from getting killed by the Sumo. Everybody laughed, assuming a fake story. Now, whenever I see the scar, I laugh to myself – that was then, now I am this, one who drives to the level of nearly missing suicide by a micromile/hour speed. Why do I do that? ‘I don’t know! That’s what I am trying to figure out’
A Humble Note: If (it’s a big ‘if’) by some mishap or misfortune, I end up dead from a road accident (in which I drive), please don’t curse my dead body over my recklessness or pity the way I died. Coz, if this is the way I see the gates of heaven (or hell), then this particular path I chose, would have definitely given me the satisfaction to smile and die the way I am truly made in my life. No regrets on that part. And finally, I’ve had my license signed for organ donation, and so please keep at least a few parts of my body alive by filling up someone’s need and then submit my corpse to my parents and friends. They will understand.
PS, I spoke what I felt from the heart. So please don’t assume that I am in some kind of trouble or am feeling bad about life and similar bullshit. I just escaped the abysmal hell and there is no way I would be sad about my life. ;) :) :D
Tonguuuuu Twisterrr haiiiii !!!!! :(
"Hari! We all knew, that you were coming", is the comment I often got as I entered my classroom located three stories high in the air. Thanks to the voice I carry, I've been misunderstood as a serious or a hot tempered guy most of the times. Though, my reasons to sing around while climbing stairs or talk to friends while climbing has been zipped in the States, the leaping three step assent (in American wooden stairs) has always been a signature of my presence. But today, the post isn't on my voice nor my lizard leaps. It's on me having trouble talking simple words...... :(
"Man.... How Man?????? Sun TV to Sony to Gemini TV to HBO?", is the comment I get a lot now a days from my friends. Fortunately and also unfortunately, I'm one of those members of the multilingual desi clan (Tamil, Telugu, Hindi, and a lil bit of Malayalam too) who's got enough friends and trouble, trying to switch over between the tongues, whenever the heart permits to socialize. Although I am never perfect in any of the languages, I've been satisfied with what I do with this partial skill of mine. But, yesterday for the first time, I've been pretty much pissed off with this curse of mine.
In two seasons of cricket, I've been an improving middle order batsman gaining the trust and confidence of previous senior players. The key to my success was, using my voice at it's best to shout either a confident 'YES YES YES' or a strict 'NOOOOOOOOOO!' or a careful 'WAITinggggg' when it comes to running between the wickets trying to increase the run rate. But over years, I've managed to be flexible in stealing the crucial runs by gaining my partner batsman's trust, by yelling in the tongue he'd been comfortable with.
Third year into this practice, and now the added thoughts of captaincy, team chemistry, reading the bowling team (& the opponent captain), 'opening batsman' mindset to stay in; just to give confidence to the middle order freshers is really messing with my tongue. I shout, "Aaja aaja aaja" to a Telugu miyan, "Vandhuru" to a Hindi hitteru, or a "Ochae" to a Chennaigaaru. Add to this confusion, the supportive job of talking to your partner after every ball giving him confidence I mix "Rok Lo/Rak Lo", "Achae khel rahe ho", "Soober shot da", "Nalla aadura da", "Anthe. Alaanae aadu", "Manchiga aaduthunaav" and a few other usual comments with the wrong person. I need to get back to my old state of using plain old, "Yeahhhhh" "Come on" "In the gap" "My danger end" etc to get those sleek, smart, sexy Singles (No double entendre guys)
We multilingual people have been mocked around in most occasions. But the real truth is, we have the best exposure to different cultures (trust me! It is very different even between two neighboring states) all together. We have more songs to listen to, more movies to watch at, more friends to spend time with, more styles to learn on, more cities to visit at, more of more everything and everywhere..... So never think that mockery on our language skills is gonna depress us.... ;)
Off the tongue:
1. Am back to good ol' 4/5 hour per day sleep cycles. Yippieeeeee!
2. Work's going perfect and am happy with whatever shit I am put up with the results
3. Under grad days are back in terms scheduling. I use a pocket note for almost everything.
4. Watched the movie 'Race' (first Desi movie almost after 5 weeks of busy life) and as commented by a friend 'I guessed and expected every twist in the movie and felt it to be boring and dull'
5. Journal reading count is on the high again. Thanks to the 'guilty if not worked' cricket season.
6. For the first time in three years, I wasn't available this weekend for any socializing work coz I was busy and wanted to work on my research.
7. It feels rejuvenating to listen to 'Anbe Enanbe' and 'Sakiyae' from Dhaam Dhoom (Been long I liked a song, thanks to the copying of good songs by Pritam in Hindi, the too many Dandanakka in Tamil (where did YSR disappear?) and mix it all Telugu songs, I'd been starving for a good song)
8. Finished watching season two of Bones finally and am happy that I've churned into an awesome forensic interpreter. Give me a murder situation and I can gather my very own clues and can find the murderer for sure (given I'm offered an FBI badge)
9. Journal reading has gone up by 300% (too many papers being read now a days)
10. Finally I spoke for over 44 'seconds' with my parents this weekend while mutually cooking the same food at different times and at different countries. Mom finally thinks that I haven't forgotten her and dad's already asking me to look for old age homes. :))
11. Jay - my 19 month old nephew came over while I was sleeping yesterday evening and gave me a kiss to wake me up. HE gave me a KISS - now that's news. Naughty kid always preferred giving and getting kisses from woman and now he has changed. Poor kid, must have had a broken heart from some 12 year old girl :))
12. Culinary skills (cooked after 3 months), hasn't deteriorated. But chopping style has gone crazily sleek. Get me a real sharp knife, and I can cut a tomato into four quarters just by throwing it in the air and chopping before I catch the pieces with my hand (It's not hard guys, it's just a trick)
13. Tongue ulcers are really playing hard with my taste skills.
14. Am cursed! However safe I wear my thigh pad during batting, I get hit and am having internal hemorrhage (black enough making me not wear shorts for job). One moment I was pleased that I wasn't hit and while keeping, I got hit bad on my thoracic cage. Guess I should take part in UFC... and finally
15. This is a long post........ :D
Strangely, my ‘Colors’ TVS 50, ‘Day Rider’ TVS Victor, three apartment keys (which were used to tear open packed parcels rather than lock doors), and my lab clinkers – all came in with unique key chains. But for the first time in nine long years, I am given a single car key, and just to avoid, me losing it, while performing one of my crazy jumps, or flips, or runs, or anything that’s crack loosened, I decided to buy a key chain. There is also this added pressure of including these discount bar codes (
The options so far have either been a bottle opener (not much sober people in this part of the world) or, a laser pointer (Errr... How many MBA’s and PhD’s are here to give a presentation?), an emergency signaling waterproof LED (hmmm. Quite useful if you drive off the ferry), the usual University logo (How much should one Bleed the color?), a doll/bear (half the population is made of the masculine sex and not yoggy), a nail clipper (am gifted with natural clippers in the name of teeth), a sportive charm (should I hoop or ram using my car in traffic?), a hook (Yeah! I can cling on to the cliff if I drive off the mountain), a slinky spring (don’t wanna even comment on it), a small knife (can use it as protection when your being mugged), or something gaudy / shiny / sexy (I need a low waist pant, a boxer 90% visible, a blinging ‘cool daddy’ chain, an LED sparkling goggles, a XXXXXXXL T shirt and a NY flat cap to match with this key chain).
Finally, I gave up finding the right key chain. I guess, I would be happy and much obliged, if I get a freebie or a gift from someone. If I attempt to find one again, then it has to match the feeling of ‘Love at first sight’ to accept it as part of my ‘Jaywalker’ keys (yup! You guessed it right. That’s my car).
At times, I lose my pattern of life and end up making more mistakes as an attempt to recover. Two weeks ago, I was dumb enough to throw my Beta Parker pen along with a shirt in the laundry. Monday morning, during the individual meeting, I ended up pooling blue ink all over my jeans and my advisors office. From that day, I'm desperately trying to cope-up the loss of my favorite pen. In two weeks, I have lost 3 pens in the lab, spun splurred 2 pens coz of my crazy addiction to rotate pens when I'm focusing on something important (at least saves my left over nails), gave away one more to a friend and forgot all about it, and lost not one but two pens today during practice (Yes! I take notes about the game coz I have a pathetic memory in terms of strategic game plan analysis). My armory of freebie pens for emergency use in the lab has entirely vanished. I hate using pencils since they fade out in less than a year. The most recent notes on my experiments now has a roller ball light blue date, ball point dark blue aim, V-5 black weight readings, ball point black colored tips and variations, No 2 Pencil markings, an yellow marker mole% calculations, an orange marker reaction time details and finally a waxy crayon strike outs (I am very glad that my advisor asks for weekly reports in word documents rather than write ups)
With the Parker gone, the character in me just got reversed. Luckily, I'm getting back a few Betas soon from a few 'Back to US' guys. Here's something about me: I feel terribly bad, if I don't have my very own pen, when I'm about to write something or sign something. PS I always open the lid, fix it to the rear of the pen and offer it to people who ask for my pen. Reason: Sometime in the past, I was told that this means, offering respect to the person in front of you.
Anti-Stressants to the rescue....
Wednesday night, I was invited for a dinner. Decided to get some flowers in celebration of his recent marriage and managed to squeeze in a few driving minutes to Kroger. An old lady around her late 70’s saw the dozen yellow roses in my hands, as I ran towards the queued up aisle and commented, “Someone special is getting flowers” at the top of her voice. With the day completely engrossed in an analysis, and since I was running in a hurry to keep up with my schedule, my blood narrowed to her level of loudness. A few faces turned towards me and I instantly froze for a second. Her age, her warm smile, her quip, overall her interest in an internationals opinion to get flowers for someone ‘Special’ [my friend’s wife? :o :))] made me soil out and offer a couple of roses to her with a smile and say, “Flowers for 'this' special lady too.” “Oh how nice of you! Now run. She is waiting. Shoo.. Shooo…” she shouted (loud) again. Couldn't stop laughing till I reached my friend's apartment. Had a great dinner followed up by a meeting with a senior friend (one of the very few who inspired me to take up academics) who came all the way from another country for her one week training.
The bee seemed lazy compared to me on Thursday. The effect of cricket has made me really focus a great deal of concentration on my work and at 10 pm after my cricket practice, I was exhausted. By 2 am I gained some life and decided to take a nap. A few minutes into my bed, I heard the chirps of birds. Took my chair out to the patio, sat down on it, and listened to the birds chirping, figuring out - where they were hiding and which one made its characteristic chirp. At 5 am (Yes! 3 hours of bird watching) spread some rice grains on the patio and went to bed. With the rice half gone in the morning, decided to build a bird grain cage/hanging whenever I get some free time. I just need to make sure that ‘Puddles’ (The stray cat I and another friend found in a puddle of snow molten water) doesn’t disturb them while he has his taste of milk in my patio in the mornings.
Finally, the day when I was drenched in ice water since I ended up saving the game, happened on Saturday when I played a Captain’s knock to march the team to victory. Though I was tired out of the not-out from the ‘first ball till end’ game, I ended up watching the fireworks in
Hope this luck of running into anti-stress agents continue to occur this week too. Now its time to get back to work, and finish it off before I crash for a power nap in the evening.
“He is going for a good length and that too outside off delivery” – reading your rivals mind.
“Just as I had expected. Good length, uncontrolled to half volley” – self appreciation of my judgment and good concentration.
“Just slash the damn wide one. Definite four” – confident judgment of your surroundings.
“Oh Ohh! This is not my bat. This ain’t long handle. Don’t reach it” – split second risk assessment.
“Just check the shot! Punt! Punt!” – adapting to avoid failure.
Three quarters into the knee down cover drive, my dusk light eyes noticed the thick inside edge bouncing off the artificial turf, and BHAM! A hard French kiss with the white leather ball, and it bit my upper lip. Donating blood to the grassy pitch, I thought,
“Oh Kay captain! You escaped from getting out! But you’re hit! Be strong! Don’t act stupid and scare the new guys. It’s part of the game” and in five seconds, I spat all the blood out, did a gargle of the loosened gum and said, “Come on! Lets not waste anymore time! Bowlers be ready, others back to your fielding positions” – Ready to take another blow spirit. Brave enough to gain the respect and trust of the team. Team chemistry instantly improved. Half an hour later, the dusk won over our fervent interests to hone our willow skills.
End note I gave the team - “And finally, after today’s incident I think it would be necessary for all players to use helmets while playing” an immediate rapture of laughter.
‘Team chemistry and safety is the most crucial thing I need to achieve. The rest is text book teaching’ I thought to myself.
“I won’t lie to you guys. I was shit scared. So I wore the helmet. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. So as a coward ‘STRICT’ captain, I am making it a mandatory practice to wear helmets” – a lie for the safety of the team.
On the way out off the ground, “Coward captain? Nice move! Keep it up”, the senior player quipped.
“In the interest of the team, I had to lie”, I smiled.
“I know! You hated wearing helmets. But today you answered my doubts on your captaincy. The season is going to be good. Don’t worry”, he assured.
About a day from that incident, I’ve got phone calls, messages and even ‘get well soon bhai’ e-card (Very smart bheedu). Thanks for your concern guys. I look cool with the swollen lip. In fact I can mimic Silverster Stallone with ease. But better of all, I am making most of my friends laugh when I convey them that I got the swollen lip from my hot girl friend’s smooch ;)………..
Off the Lip [Pretty girls can stick to it, if you wish to ;)]: Outrageously busy! Loved and hated the songs ‘Dil Haara’ from Tashan (what the hell does Tashan mean?) and ‘Champagne Supernova’ by Oasis (which I’ve been listening to the past several months) coz these are great songs, with Charlie Wilson’s War Ending – ‘F***ed up the end game’. I hate it when musicians end soft songs with blaring electric music or some crap techno mix, shouting at the top of their voice, just to show the intense ending. That’s ridiculous beyond imagination. ‘Falak Tak’ from Tashan sounds familiar. But don’t have the time to find an answer. Except this Friday evening, my ass is up on the hot grill. And if you haven't guessed it yet - Besame Mucho means Kiss me more (an old spanish classic song) :*
Singing on the top of my voice wasn’t easy with my jaws aching from the laughter, I had to put up with Vic Henley for two full hours. $9 worth ticket, but the show was $900 worth laughter. While the fun side of me enjoyed the whole show, the technical part of my brain answered one ambiguous joke, ‘
Thursday was the balance shaft of Wednesday night’s party. Worked like a (obviously) work horse. Even took my time off between work to read articles like Endorphins secreted while dancing (Just google search. I am tired enough not to post the link). Shy dancers, read the article and have fun doing the 'get up now and do a two second woo hoo dance'
Friday was a special day. I had to finish my draft for a paper in the morning by 12 and my time was very tight. It was one of those rare occasions when my level of concentration was at the peak. Four hours later (after mailing the draft to my advisor and running to the loo, like a fire engine blaring wooo woooo; I need to go to the looo), I saw my invisible taskbar showing 6 friends giving me the Hi’s in gtalk messages. I had no recollection of seeing even one window. I achieve this concentration daily for 3 hours – I’ll graduate in four months. Evening time was fantastic. A good friend’s birthday was celebrated and we ended up playing games including Moment of Truth till 1:30 am. It was then followed by a long drive to US-68 teaching a friend on driving on curvy roads, few moments of serenity sitting outside and a drowsy dinner at Dennys.
Saturdays nap was cut short drastically trying to help an old lady move out, U-Haul my bro’s stuff to Louisville, 4 hours of physical and mental work out in practice, an ‘acid-toed’ tight and busy experiment, movie 21 (How come, everything I watch turn out to be stuff related to Geeks and Nerds?), sarcastic jokes (was on the receiving end), and some time spent with the awakened roomie.
Sunday was desperately sleep deprived. Drive to
If someone finds life in planets beyond level of Earth, please do call me. I’ll have extended weekends over there at least. PS. Thanks to the dozen people who mailed me not only Pride by Syntax, but the whole Meccan Minds album.
This week: Tuesday, and Thursday evening is already filled with crucial selection practice for Saturday's friendly game against EKU. Wednesday is gonna be a drive to Cinci to meet a great person from the past, visiting for a week from Beijing (I'll be shouting Hudibaba, hudibaba, hudibaba.... :D). That leaves me with Monday and Friday evenings to work on my lower hand injury (which I haven't passed it to the team mates). As the song (running at the background) by Violet Burning says, "I'm no Superman" and I need to face one more week to improve myself for the low probable not so sure future.
Syntax - Pride
A simple, monotonous yet piercing guitar music, a noddy drum beat at the background, a slight elevation in bass as the song proceeds, an aesthetic mix using techno music in the sub background level, a mid DJ implemented beat with double vocals - low scale harder and a high scale female choir, an increased tone at the end and a back to scale finish. Simply love the music.
What made the song even better? Just look at the lyrics (Best is to listen to the song as you read it. And relisten to the song without reading concentrating on the music and vocals)
It's made up of lonely moments
There was always a moment there when I knew
You always gave instalments
Always knew you concentrated and grew
And I believe in reinvention
Do you believe that life is holding the clue
Take away all the lonely moments
Give me full communication with you
Your smile shine a little light alright
Don't hide shine a little light
Give up on your pride
Do you believe in reinvention
Do you believe that life is holding the clue
Any way to face the silence
Any way to face the pain that kills you
Your smile shine a little light alright
Don't hide shine a little light
Give up on your pride
Give up on your pride
the moments gone give up on your smile
life is long so I seen a bad dream that you were gone
I got bitten on the soul my blood will run
Give up on your pride
the moment's gone give up on your smile
life is long so I seen a bad dream you were gone
you're bitter and cold my blood will run
If you laugh at someone coz of your prank, then it's considered to be a good April fool prank. But if you repent/feel guilty from seeing someone suffer, coz of your prank, then classify it as 'Crying Wolf'.
An hour into my untimely evening nap (runny nose to head ache to slight fever), I get a call from a bunch of local friends. An hour later, there they were being yelled at the top of my voice. Thanks to the elevated temperature from the sleep developed fever, I got tired in a few minutes (though I was extremely pissed off) and had to give up after seeing them understand that what they did was 'Cry wolf' and not a prank.
To chill the whole gang (thanks to the level of invectives I gave them with a runny nose, they felt guilty), I took them to an unusual restaurant (which I knew pretty well). In the name of 'nature calls' I had to pull the waiter aside and tell something important to him. Thanks to my friends maniacal obsession to soda or milkshake, it was pretty much easy for me to persuade them into trying the malts and sodas in the restaurant while I ordered chicken soup (A sick man's got to do what a sick man's got to do).
Minutes later, the waiter brought them the malts and soda while I had water. I held my transparent glass of water against their colored glasses filled with their respective favorite beverage and said cheers (I was smirking on the outcome). While everyone removed the top of the straw paper-covering from the pre-dipped straws (as provided by the waiter), I drank my water without the straw. I waited... I waited.... I waited a few more seconds and there I was holding my stomach in pain trying to control the rapture of laughter I got from seeing their blue faces.
Three of them understood the plot and started laughing while the fourth friend sucked her straw as hard as she can and finally gave up. She looked at her husband not understanding what was happening. He took the straw out and turned it upside down to show her the mashed potato stuffed hard inside the straw. "You guys suck good", I commented and we all laughed our stomachs out.
The rest of the night was spent watching "The pancake batter anomaly" and singing “Soft kitty; warm kitty; little ball of furrrrr, Happy kitty; sleepy kitty; pur pur purrrrr”
The longer I stay awake the faster my temperature subsides - my recent conclusions on the current physical state. I sleep, I get sick again. (still scratching for a theory behind this event)
But before I go, there is nothing good without a PJ. So here it is - "When you're feeling cold, you need chicken soup for the soul. But when you have cold, you need chicken soup in your bowl" :P