What makes work worthwhile and other musings
Work gets funnier day by day. Really. I've cribbed about it often enough to make everyone think that I am stuck in the wrong place. But of late, the kind of copies I see make me laugh till someone (usually the writer of the piece) looks at me like she or he wished I choked on my laughter and dropped dead into the little blue trash bin near my desk.
But how can you not laugh at these?
"The watchman shouted with his head, 'You may be an MLA in MLA'."
I have NO clue what the watchman or the writer was on about.
"Bipolar disorder: A sort of mood disorder caused by disturbance of mood."
"It was a moonlight day."
"The music was installed in the park so that visitors would have a reluctant time."
By the time this one came I actually did die of trauma.
And these wonders never stop. I painstakingly change their English (or what they think is English), meticulously clean up copy and put it out for the world to see. And then they'll give me the same filth the next day.
These days, I just accept it as bad karma and laugh my way through it. At least this way I beat statistics and laugh more than the usual six minutes a day.
I've been obsessively reading Crystal's (Hi, Crystal!) blog. She's that rare, rare combination of way-out humour, sensitivity, intelligence and decency. You know, it's not just sense of humour. It's plain, mad, tummy-aching laughter inducing funny. She's crazy, really! And I am addicted. I don't know how I am going to get through work when I am done with her archives!
But the point of this entry was not to increase traffic to that blog but to make the observation that I have NO idea how she writes so funny! Or anyone who writes funny for that matter. Like P G Wodehouse and his Psmith.
I read that and I was in love, dear reader! Truly and completely in love with Psmith. He's all I ever wanted to be and all that I thought my knight in shining armour would be! Greatly recommended reading.
Speaking of books, I loved Doris Lessing's sangfroid at winning the Nobel. She sets her shopping down at the steps of her home and plays to the media hounding her door. For God's sake woman, you've won the Nobel for literature. The least you can do is not look like some poor woman in Russia who doesn't have potatoes and vodka for the weekend!
Having said that, I also must admit I am saying it out of envy. Envy of her equanimity in handling the news and envy of her writing skills.
As you would have now guessed I have nothing of relevance to blog about today. Hence this rambling. Incidentally, I'll be turning 28 in a few days and I still plan to be offended if friends don't call or sms or mail and wish me! Suresh says that's okay behavior till one is 23, now I should just be cool as Manali and go on with my day. Hmmph! That's rich coming from him - considering his late-30-something birthday was full of people getting drunk and trying not to fall off the balcony of a lovely Bandra apartment!
Also, just wondering aloud. Should I be worried about the babies not happening yet? I really want at least one before I am 30. Pray for me.
Everyday Mathew gives me at least two reasons that reaffirms my idea that he's the most perfect man alive. And every day, it's two different things. I am completely spoilt for choice. Like yesterday when he decided to surprise me with take-out Chinese when I asked him to marinate some fish that we could fry for dinner. Now I know what to do next time I don't feel like cooking.
Or giving me a tight hug in the morning and saying, "Come here, booze breath." Sigh, I melted at the romance of it.