THURSDAY EVENING.

Thursday evening.

good: Travelling in the train.(SAMPARKA KRANTI EXPRESS) with wife and office colleagues- after attending ADVEESHA daughters marriage function at Tumkur.

The bad is that it appears to take long time to reach HUBLI.

Joke and picture enjoyed at gmail while editing this entry.

Three women were sitting around throwing back a few drinks and talking abouttheir love lives.

One woman said, "I call my husband the dentist. Nobody can drill like he does."

The second woman giggled and confessed, "I call my husband the miner because ofhis incredible shaft."

The third woman quietly sipped her whiskey until her friend asked, "Say, what doyou call your husband?"She frowned and said, "The postman."

"Why the postman?""Because he always delivers late, and half the time it's in the wrong box."

Madscribbler

Comments

The Big Bang Theory.

He is robbed including his pants. He can’t fix himself to change in life. He calls Leonard. — Girmit (^‿^) (@cgBalu) 🚆 → 🚉 → 🚆 → 🚉 A funny moment from The Big Bang Theory (Season 8, Episode 1). Sheldon decides to tour American cities by train. New York. Arizona. A few others. But there is a Sheldon twist. He never actually goes into the cities. He remains inside trains and railway stations, orbiting them like a cautious satellite. Then disaster strikes. He is robbed. Everything goes. Even his pants. And Sheldon being Sheldon, he cannot recalibrate his personality. So he does the only logical thing in his universe: he calls Leonard. ❤😎

Gunshot Piercing

Chill Gunshot Piercing It began, as all life-altering decisions do, with someone else’s fashion. My younger cousin walked in wearing purple ear studs—confident, casual, as if he had always been this stylish creature. I looked at him. He looked at me. The studs looked back at me and whispered, “Upgrade pending…” My wife sealed the matter in one line: “You will look good.” That was it. Proposal passed. No further discussion. A few days later, we went to the jeweller’s shop to buy a chain for our daughter. A normal, respectable outing. But destiny had other plans… and a small device that makes a sound like a stapler with attitude. My five-year-old grandson came along, purely for moral support—his own, not mine. The jeweller inspected my ears like an archaeologist discovering ancient ruins. “Ah! Old holes are there,” he declared, as if announcing hidden treasure. My wife took charge. She marked the exact spot on my earlobes with the seriousness of a surgeon and the confidence of ...

Same ease. Same certainty. No performance.

We went to the community departmental store, my grandson and I. I like walking with him. I’m quietly proud of it. Long ago, when I was young, I travelled in a car with a prominent man from our small town. My uncle sat beside him; I sat in front with the driver. He wasn’t loud. Didn’t instruct much. Authority sat on him like it had always belonged there. We had gone to a bigger town for Deepavali shopping. At one stop, my uncle got down, ran into a shop, and brought back two veshtis. The man didn’t touch them. Didn’t examine. Just glanced and said, almost lazily, “Take the one with the green border.” That was it. Decision made. No noise, no effort. Now I’m in a store again. Different time. Different company. My wife has given me a list. My grandson walks beside me, scanning shelves. At the biscuit aisle, he doesn’t fumble through brands. No debate. His eyes settle on a purple pa...

BLOGGING TO SOOTHE THE NERVES.

Search This Blog