lalita larking

An obsession with cryptic crosswords. Everything else falls in place.

Name:
Location: Kolkata, India

Thursday, June 07, 2007

Famous Grouse, four muses ago

Groan: An expression of appreciation for the horrible.

There are some things that irk me. Typos and grammatical errors in newspapers have lost their sting these days, I have learned to ignore them to save wear and tear on my teeth, but there are things that still get my goat I tell you.

Why can't tennis players simply win or lose? Why do they have to storm into the next round or crash out of a tournament? Why are teams trounced? What's wrong with simple statements like 'India lose'?

I may be working on a post, or maybe blog-hopping or reading my mail. "Updating your computer is almost complete. You must restart your computer for the updates to take effect. Do you want to restart your computer now? " Asks a message that pops up. I click 'Restart Later'. Less than ten minutes later up pops the same message. Why? Haven't I already stated that I want to do it later?

I send a request that no promotional messages be sent to my phone. It is acknowledged. I still get messages from Airtel, some half a dozen each day, about great tunes to download, about recharge offers only for me, and so on. Why?

There was a song in some film, it was Sharmila Tagore I think, that made me grind my teeth every time I heard it. A schoolmarm singing with her class, how does the wind blow, why do the clouds float, I don't know, you don't know, only God knows. Really? Why was she a teacher then?

There is a beauty parlour off Lansdowne Road I will never venture into. Nor would anybody who thinks about words. What were they thinking when they called themselves Senioreeta? That they were going to turn middle-aged matrons into teenyboppers and hence older women would rush over to them in droves for the experience?

Do you want to see your Add here? Asks an outdoor advertising company on sandwich boards. No thank you, I grind my teeth.

The phone rings and I answer. Who is speaking, says the caller. You called this number so it is up to you to introduce yourself, I fume. Really, is that too much to ask?

While we are on the subject of phones, why don't my friends call me? They know I have a phone, they know the number, so how come it is always me calling them up, not the other way around?

My old phone got bad karma and died. I acquired a new one, some ten days ago. I had no idea of how it'd ring, though. Nobody calls me. It is nice to get calls out of the blue from pals and toy boys. It is nice to receive text messages too. So why don't people call me or message me? Why is the whole world busy when I need to be entertained, amused and pampered? People have no sense of priorities, I say.

I was getting into a regular stew about it, you know, and then the Non Resident Mathematician called. He called to scold, and wonder if I was bedridden. He called to talk to the Resident Mathematician really. Anyway, the phone rang. It took me a while to twig to the fact. (Not my fault, my phone never rings, after all.)

So I got scolded, sidelined and I learned that the default ring tone is awful. I changed it pronto. My phone will sound nice if it ever rings again.

Bah!

7 Comments:

Anonymous Rajesh said...

Nice rant. But here is a suggestion, Lali. Give Secret Admirer your number. No more rant. Or you will rant about being swamped.

4:00 pm  
Blogger netizen said...

Did you read 'Eats, Shoots,Leaves' By Lynn Truss?

6:14 pm  
Anonymous dipali said...

Have you been inundated yet by calls? Will you live to regret this blog? Will you be honest about it if you do?
Only time will tell, Lali, I'm just about to call you

7:32 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

@Rajesh: Thanks for putting in a word for me.
Lali, I swear I won't swamp you, give me your number please.
Sincerely,
Secret Admirer

8:00 pm  
Blogger Lalita said...

Rajesh- Couldn't you leave well enough alone, for pity's sake?

Netizen- That is 'Eats, shoots & Leaves', by the way. Did you read her Tennyson's Gift? A marvellous
book.

Dipali- Lady you found out, right? I rest my case.

Anon- Here's a definition for you. Promise: The soul of an advertisement. Get a name.

9:35 pm  
Blogger Rimi said...

Mistress Mukherjea, the leader of groups guilt-tripper extraordinaires do not have. Hmph!

Consider one call put down on my little pocketbook. Now sit demurely with arms folded in lap and wait your turn ;-)

7:03 pm  
Blogger Lalita said...

Rimi- Hmph back atya.

10:41 am  

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