Mud Ghecko

...except that * I weighed David Blacker's book and it weighs exactly 600gms and * its official : I will be joining the Red Cross . This means I wont be blogging for a few years. Sorry, guys.I will really miss life at the Centre. The spirit is willing, but cash is the issue...

Ten things I wouldn’t be caught dead doing: Having been a steadfast fan of ghost stories and horror films for the last 30 years, I have decided to face the fact of my inevitable mortality and subsequent passage onwards with some creativity on my part which I hope will continue to confuse and intrigue people long after I am dead and (at least nearly) gone. Once a geek always a geek though and technology is going to play a large part in my afterlife too, you can be sure. For example here’s a list of ten things I just won’t be caught doing, in the afterlife, because Ill be doing it my way: I will not walk through doors; just to be sure I’m not invading anyone’s privacy , Ill knock cheerfully first and identify myself before blasting my way in with a borrowed machine gun: beat that for cool. I will not hover, wave or materialise shakily because I think that’s a sign of an insecure ego (or worse, low cellular signals). Instead I will appear solidly accompanied by the sound of Windows star...

... and other feline tales. Cats plague me. They greet me with vibrating purry meows when I get home, track me excitedly around the house when Im looking for my sandals, spray my motorcycle jacket cheerfully with nauseous civet musks and drop suddenly out of the ceiling onto my dining table when I’m entertaining important guests…. I look around and wonder to myself how I ever got so surrounded by this many smelly mewling mangy excuses for former Egyptian Gods.-the answer is I love my kids and they love playing with string and kittens. I also love kittens, I admit, and from garbage dumps and temple corners they all seem to be asking me to take them home. The problem is these kittens I bring in mutate within six months and for the next decade I’m hounded (no other word for it) by large, obnoxious feline predators calmly decimating the crockery and waving insouciant, in – your –face balls, or “cutlets” ,as the kids call them... My cats embarrass me and stink up my house but keep me wa...

On the Back : NO SEKS NO BOOS NO ENTERTANES and on the front : IM A POORBOY.

Unbloggable content usually implies me . — Darth Teddy to Kahuna, attempting to amass rights to all questionable content . http://circus1.blogspot.com/search/label/Unquotable%20Quotes enjoy. these guys are a scream...where have they blogged all my life? who are they ? what kind of software must they be writing?(shudder!) I need to go through the archives, durnig the weekend I guess, so Im recording the link here, but hey- it doesnt mean all my readers can abandon me forever....ok?

MY FIRST LESSON and other embarrassing moments Leading Colombo driving schools do offer ladies motorcycle lessons and this means you have to get on a bike with a strange dude and after some time he sits behind you. From my 2004 diary,then: 3rd jan 10.00 am I’m sitting in the neatly painted but nevertheless shabby third world office of a Colombo driving school.. As a rule I notice, the Driving Instructors are grey haired, casually dressed fiftygenarians, who give the aura of being totally drunk and gregarious but hopefully are neither The one I saw first was no exception-and shot me a very stern and dignified glance , more of a glare really, before yanking shut his fly with the determined , pointed air of someone ready to get down to serious business. … However, to my heartfelt relief he strode past me and then it was that my designated instructor came out searching for me. It so happened ( oh the relief -) that he was neat (had all his clothes buttoned on), clean (no ear hair or carbu...

The Moped Diaries. part 2 No license- no helmet - no underskirt… This is not a technical article - technical advice you can get from just about any guy you know who rides a bike, or from the friendly salesmen at joints selling them. What follows are the kinds of tips you won’t hear from the guys: stuff like how to choose road friendly feminine underwear and what parts of your riding trainer it is better not to grab on those early test runs. Also please understand, first and foremost you need to know how to balance on a foot-cycle as its called, it’s a pre requisite without which you make life a living nightmare for the poor soul who has to teach you, since he will be worrying about how many tumbles he has to take with you and gravel rash on ones elbows hurts to the point of being crippling, trust me. Helmets are a good idea whether the government requires then or not, since we only have one grey hard disk and damaging that could have embarrassing permanent repercussions. I was given t...

The Motorcycle ok,ok,- *MOPED*.. Diaries part 1 Two years ago, around this time of the year, I bought myself a shiny new Chinese moped from a very user friendly joint in Kohuwela. There was, I recall, a significant amount of family opposition to the idea of me riding a “motorcycle”. Notably most of the negative attitude was feminine. My best friend, a lovely, most lady like creature I have known since grade 7 in Lindsay BMV, wrote me a 234 Kilobyte email from New York, expressing in detail, her delicate horror at the idea. My long suffering mother called me IDD from Nairobi, to vocalise a pleading monologue on the subject and from something like 13,000 miles away and without a web-cam, I could clearly picture her wringing those lovely hands all over the place and getting red nosed with emotion.(Failing to change my resolve, she lapsed into prayers to the entire Hindu pantheon, which is generally something she has had to do for many years now, since it’s the only way she can resign he...

Good times, Bad Times and other Weird Local Beliefs Made Simple. well, I'm back: I survived the recent holiday and the astounding sense of boredom and anticipation that Nationally relevant times like this carry with them, and did not actually get hit by the chikun virus ,perhaps because, like in Jurassic Park, I already harbor viruses which are ten times nastier and crunch up the chikuny ones on sight...old Picky, my unfaithful canine friend paid me that bi annual visit he does because he wants to escape from cracker noises by hiding under my bed...and I steadfastly continue to maintain the grinchy theory that compulsory breaks are a pointless waste of time involving loss of focus, something I’m always trying to hang on to. IN the meantime I got to thinking about so called " auspicious times " .Aren’t we a society totally happy with leaving things to a nakath welawa ? Isn’t that why we love being absolutely depraved until around New Years eve and then following it up with...