How to Expire

2010-07-29T10:50:00.000-07:00

How to expire

2009-07-09T10:22:00.000-07:00

Go to Delhi. In a rain-deficient year.

Something I wrote a while ago: Why not to jump on the bed.

2009-03-27T10:04:00.000-07:00

Remember back in the day, when grown-ups always told you not to jump on the bed, or you would hurt yourself? Yeah. True story. Of course, as a four year old, I had yet to discover that this piece of advice was in good taste. I remember one particular day, when I was at my friend’s house, lollygagging away. I always lollygagged; let’s face it, at the age of four, you have no responsibilities. Or so I thought. I never really placed the blame for what happened that day on anyone, but for argument’s sake, and for the sake of this story, let us place the blame on my then-friend, who’s name I remember but don’t know how to spell. Her named did, however, start with an ‘A’. So we shall call her Indian Girly Girl ‘A’. Indian Girly Girl ‘A’ (from this point on known as “Igga”) told me she had a fun game that she wanted to show me. She took me to her room and carefully (I use this word loosely) demonstrated what was so exciting to her. Igga jumped on the bed, and after a few bounces, fell backwards, and let the old springs of the bed act as a sort of trampoline until she stopped bouncing altogether. This seemed thrilling to me at the time. And so, I agreed to play her jump-on-the-bed-and-fall-back game. The two of us must have looked like your average Indian four year old girls, jumping on that old springy bed in delight, until…..

Until she fell on top of me, and the back of her little Indian head hit me square in the eye. I remember seeing ponytails in front of my face – ponytails that were not my own– then colors, and black. Then I fell off the bed. And then I started bawling at the top of my lungs. Damn that Igga for teaching me her lame game! Next thing I knew, my mom had come to Igga’s apartment, and, no explanation needed, was absolutely furious with Igga’s mother who was not aware of the fact that we were jumping on the bed. And for the next few weeks, I walked around with a shiner that made it look like I had been in a gang fight. Or like I had been physically abused by my wicked step mother when I told her I didn’t want to clean the bathroom. Whichever suits your fancy. The moral of the story, children, is do not ever engage in jumping on the bed-like activities for the following reasons: you made end up with bruises that will arouse the curiosity of social workers, you may go blind, you may break your arm, you may break your leg, you may break your face, or you may even break your bed, forcing you to sleep on the floor, which is something that should not be done unless one is homeless.

My Last Name

2009-03-23T19:10:00.000-07:00

I have come to repent my last name and everything associated with it. Why? After all, a last name gives you identity, and usually, a culture. Mine gives me a lot more than a cultural identity, let me tell you that. For one, it makes my name tag wrap around me twice. I must have extended time on the SAT just to bubble in V-I-S-H-N-U-B-H-O-T-L-A. I get weird nick names such as "fish-in-a-bottle!" and "fish-in-a-boat-la!" (as if that makes ANY sense whatsoever), and it takes me about 12 years, 3 months, 4 days, and 17 seconds to sign any legal documents. Catch my drift? Dear friends, enemies, frenemies, and the Dalai Lama:
If you ever feel, for some reason, like you need an FML moment, you must only do one thing; become south Indian. Telugu, more specifically. And let the hilarity ensue.

Until next time.

How To Epic Fail As An Engineer 450

2009-03-19T17:59:00.000-07:00

There are times in math class when I feel completely lost. Mind you, it is not because I am particularly bad at math, but rather, because my mind often perceives things incorrectly... Let me give you an example.

Professor: Differentiate the following equation: ln (x)
Me: *thinking* What the hell do I use as my "u" in u-substitution???
Professor: You all should have gotten 1/x as your answer.
Me: But professor, how did you get that?
Professor: RAMYA! IT'S SIMPLE DIFFERENTIATION! 1/x times the derivative of x!
Me: *thinking*. Oh. I was integrating.... never mind.

The key to failure in math is to completely misunderstand what the problem is asking you. I am giving a crash course in this next semester, entitled: "How To Epic Fail As An Engineer 450 ".
The first test will be asking such questions as: What is the limit as x approaches infinity of 1/2x?

The correct answer, of course, is 42.

Disclaimer: People of high intellect should not join this course. "How To Epic Fail As An Engineer 450 " is not responsible for any plummeting GPAs or angry Asian parents.

Until next time.

Vegas

2009-03-19T10:46:00.000-07:00

Pardon the woman for the excessively tedious and painful method of death in these columns yesterday - she is delirious. Not that I am not. Which is precisely why I shall suggest another tedious and more painful method (and yet, more enjoyable) of self-extermination today. You will need

Girlfriend (1 no.)
Potential Wife (1 no.) [You see where this is going]
Las Vegas (1 no.), with house of sin included
Suitable muhurtham.

Method : Set girlfriend in position of, well, girlfriend. Then book appointment at House of Sin, with suitable fixed appointments at various casinos and strip clubs in the vicinity. While girlfriend is still in position, take potential wife (who MUST NOT be substituted with girlfriend) to house of sin. Marry. Blow up money in casinos. Enjoy the er.. view.. at the strip clubs. Return home with wife on arm.

Serve chilled.

Self-termination

2009-03-18T20:43:00.000-07:00

Activated

3

2

1

Alt + F4

Since I am horrible with introductions, I think I'll rant a little bit. As always.

When in need of instant death, become an engineer. In America.

Or alternatively, fall in love.

Hello, world.

2009-03-17T13:16:00.000-07:00

Beginning today, we shall spew reams (or kilobytes) of the most exclusive, unique and Darwinawardian methods to remove yourself from the evolutionary (or reincarnatory, depending on your beliefs) cycle.

Methods suggested here are only suggestive, and are not meant as legal advice.

We shall begin with a topical method. Read the following repeatedly until you actually laugh. And when I say laugh, I mean a proper, deep-throated belly laugh, not a wimpy giggle. After all, we want death, don't we? Not mere paralysis, yes? It's no fun having to live life as a quadriplegic vegetable. So, take pains to guffaw. Yes, guffaw at the following only.

Q : What did the suicidal programmer's first program output?
A : Goodbye, world.

okthxbi.