Most Inappropriate Analogy Ever:

I’m watching the Tea Time show on ESPN during the second test match (Yes, I was watching ESPN and I was watching cricket. Do get your jaws off of the floor.), and someone asked someone else (We shall make this an A-B story, Someone One is A and Someone Two is B), i.e. A asked B to describe India’s batting. And this is what B said,

“The Indian Batting…is like AIDS.” Most. Fucking. Inappropriate. Analogy. Ever. I do not remember the reasoning behind this analogy, but I assume it was something like this, “The Indian Batting is a collection of symptoms and infections resulting from the specific damage to the immune system caused by the human immunodeficiency virus and has killed more than 25 million people since it was first recognized. So is AIDS. Ergo the analogy.”

Dumbass.

Least Effective Advertisement Ever:

Courtesy the good folks at Yahoo India, or more accurately the intellectually challenged employees of the advertising company that Yahoo India retained.( I have a point to make somewhere here. Bear with that last clunky sentence.)

On a billboard, “Log on to yahoo.co.in and get a Free email address!” Wow! A free fucking email address. Be still my heart. An email address that I do not have to pay for. All mine and fucking free to boot. A temptation like none other. Nothing could stop me from logging on to yahoo.co.in and getting the free email address. Nothing, except the fact that that was a fucking hook in 1996. Dumbasses. What next? Next they’ll be telling me to log on to yahoo.co.in and search for “Supermodels, butter and handcuffs.” That is so 1998(…um…Perhaps a little too specific an example?)

Grey Anatomy could be the title of a geriatric Porn Flick. (No reason for putting that line in there, and so I did.)

This week I visited an ancient temple tourist trap. This is a place famous (notorious?) for its stone carvings and so I decided to pick up a small souvenir. I dropped by a shop and grabbed the first one I saw. It was a small round stone paperweight.

Blink.

Blink.

(That was not an entreaty or a command. That was description of my reaction. Note the speechlessness and the jaw on the floor)

(Let’s make this one into a C-D story, I’ll be C and the carver/shopkeeper/comic relief will be D)

C: Um…

D: Yessir! You Like?

C: Um…yeah…Um what is this?

D: Paperweight sir.

C: Yeah, I got that bit. I meant the um motif…design on it.

D: Scenes from the Kama Sutra Sir.

C: Ah that explains it. Haven’t ever seen stone figures getting that much action. And I’m moderately sure that that lady’s pose is anatomically improbable.

D: Scenes from the Kama Sutra Sir.

C: That is an awful lot of porn on something the size of a tennis ball, but…Um, yeah I’ll pass.

D: (Insistently) Scenes from the Kama Sutra Sir.

C: Something else perhaps, maybe a paperweight that happily avoids the controversial topic of um…exposed genitalia.

D: (Looking disappointed) Scenes from the Kama Sutra Sir.

C: Yes, we’ve established that. Do you perhaps have scenes from the um…Kama Sutra (PG-13) version.

D: (Enthusiastically) Scenes from the KamaSutra Sir.

Clearly, this man, the porn king of the south, had a one track mind. Any paper weights he would be willing to part with would involve exposed genitalia and awkward, painful looking poses. I beat a hasty retreat, returning the stone paperweight to its boudoir. I think I heard an indistinct moaning emanating from the paperweight.

The paperweight was Grey in color.

It had tons of anatomy on it.

Grey anatomy.

Full circle.