FOLLOW FRIDAY @ameenmaj

after all these mad scribblings are about good bad and searches!

I love Mallus for their simplicity and for leading a practical life with timely humour.
Who are Mallus?
Answer please see the connected blog:
Let me connect the blog: Hungry Mallus

As a twitter fan I try to read,see and converse about twitter whenever I can.
So, some months back CBN-IBN aired a program on twitter, apart from learning about spreadsheets and some doyens in the twitterdom, I tweeted proudly that I watched the program.

There, as a reply to this I met a tweep: @ameenmaj.
This friend likes to talk and always has a say whenever a tweet a tweet to him.
I shared a tweet with him when I was obsessed with getting a reply from @SrBachchan, lucky he was and as I tweeted with @ameemaj....@SrBachchan replied.....to one question.

@Ameenmaj likes to sing and got a good voice too. He shared with me a Tamil song. He shared the video clipping at you tube.

He has good comments on the soccer and I am thinking of taking his tips to predict the team that will enter the quarter finals of world cup soccer 2010. (good thought....)

Here is a sample of his favorite tweet:

Cc @diogeneb RT @ksekher: @ameenmaj 10 Ways to Watch FIFA World Cup 2010 Live Online for Free!http://bit.ly/9TyXql #worldcup

Here is a good tweet from his latest time line.

IS #Raavanan also a flop?

Here are two good pictures from his image collection. (twitpic)

Red Hammer

The famous Mina Bazaar, Dubai on Twitpic

The famous Mina Bazaar, Dubai

Here @ameenmaj sings the Tamil song!

@ameenmaj I am glad to have you as a twitter friend.

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.

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