Jammy’s stand up comedy on Corporate Life

“There are a hell of a lot of jobs that are scarier than live comedy. Like standing in the operating room when a guy’s heart stops, and you’re the one who has to fix it!” – Jon Stewart

Maybe that’s why I always wanted to be a stand up comedian – because it didn’t require me to fix a stopping heart. My first attempt was in the form of podcasts in 2007 but it failed…at least you guys didn’t have to endure the visuals. Anyway, the attempt fizzled out and now here is my second attempt at stand up comedy.

The topic this week is ‘Life in a Corporate’. Enjoy, and do leave your comments/feedback in the comments…so next time you get a better performance.

There are two parts to the act (for the simple reason that Youtube doesn’t allow for videos longer than 15 minutes to be uploaded). Needless to say, see the first part first.

Too much, my daughter

Sometimes kids end up cracking the biggest of jokes.

In order to pacify my three and a half year old daughter who had been scolded by my wife early in the morning, I told her: “Rhea, don’t worry…sometimes your mother is too much.”

Pat came her reply: “Not too much. Mother is Magar-much.”

I didn’t tell her, but I agree with my daughter’s view on my wife. Now, I am convinced she is indeed my daughter.

*Some explanation due for my south Indian readers – a Magar-much is Hindi for Crocodile.

Facebook dashboard changes due to Facebook Mail

If I were Facebook Mail, it would have been amazing…for I would have been on everybody’s lips. If in the last one week you have been on this Earth, you would have heard about Facebook Mail (or Facebook Messages).

Experts believe that Facebook is most suited to provide a mailing service because they know how each one of us behaves with each of our friends within our social circle. Perfect!

Now, see how your dashboard could look (and read) once Facebook Mail is open to all your friends.

Attracting women like houseflies to horseshit

They say the best way to attract women is to carry a baby around, and act like a caring father. Or better still, the guy who adopted a baby because he just couldn’t bear the sight of the orphan growing up alone in this big, bad world.

I did try this trick….and it did work to an extent – the extent being my baby daughter’s cheeks.

They would stop by, ask for her name, and then say stock lines like “she is a doll” “quite a princess she is” “she is damn cute” or “just look at her cheeks”. Their parting shot was always a peck on Rhea’s cheeks and that’s it. Not a single word about myself…the person responsible for bringing this princess, doll, cute thing…whatever… into this big, bad World.

After my daughter, I tried various other living things…cats, rabbits, parrots, turtles, puppies…you name the living thing and I have tried that on the women. Barring four animals of course – Lion, Tiger, Elephant & Rhinoceros.

None of them got me the expected results. Though they did pet the animal, and ask for its name they didn’t ask for mine. I didn’t mind them not asking my name….but I got might pissed when they didn’t call me home too. That’s what got me ticked.

This made me wonder….could it be a non-living thing? Is there a non-living thing that could attract women to you like houseflies to horseshit? After four years of research, today I finally found out that item.

Today I walked about 100 meters with this item in my hands, and I had four women – some married some not ask me what its price was and how effective it was and how to use it etc. I answered all their questions with patience. So much so, out of the four women….one even asked me to come home sometime in the evening.

“Can you come home today evening please?”

I looked behind me, if she was asking some passerby to come home. There was nobody.

“Are you asking me to come to YOUR house?”

The lady looked surprised, and confirmed.

“What about your husband? Will he not be home?”

The lady looked surprised, but replied confidently with a smile: “No, he doesn’t need to know this.”

Wow…it had finally worked.

“But wouldn’t your husband get suspicious?”

Again, the lady looked surprised. But calmed herself and replied: “Well, if you ask me…I would say he is quite suspicious of this habit of mine. He often asks me why I am so obsessed, but I have no answer.”

I prided on my luck. Imagine finding a lady obsessed with sex – that’s like finding a needle in a haystack at 12 midnight, when it is raining heavily and all you have is one candle. Not to mention you have only one match stick in the box of matches.

“So, you would come home at 6 p.m.?”

Being a practiced gentleman, I replied: “Ohh sure. Since it will be our first time, should I get something for you when I come?”

“It might be the first time for you, but I have hosted gentlemen such as yourself before. The last one was a Eureka Forbes vacuum cleaners salesman.”

Her reply swept the floor…or should I say road…coz we were still standing on the road…off my feet. So she was an expert at this. I made a mental note to pat myself on the back when I was alone.

“Done deal then, I will be there at 6 p.m.. Which apartment did you say you live in?”

“We stay at 1002, Tower 7.”

“That’s nice. I will be there.”

She then turned and started walking, and even as I watched the sway of her hips…she turned back and said: “Please don’t forget to bring the mop when you come. I like to get into the details.”

“Sure Missy,” I said naughtily, but she didn’t reciprocate.

I stood there watching the sway of her hips till she disappeared into Tower 7.

————X————–

At 6 p.m. same day, I stood at her door with a mop in hand. Wild thoughts ran in my mind…kinky sex after a long time. Imagine, a mop being a prop. Earlier in my life, I have used a pillow as a prop. Sometimes some wires…but when one of us fell unconscious…I had to stop using them. Sometimes, I have also used the treadmill as a prop…but nothing beats a mop with a long handle when it comes to kinky sex.

My mind continued to race, while I rang the bell.

It was then that I heard the familiar voice: “Coming…I hope you have bought the mop along.”

I won’t get into the details of what happened next, but I was out of her house in ten minutes flat. The demo lasted two minutes….and the other eight minutes she was giving me hints to leave the house. The last hint was: “Why don’t we catch up later. I was leaving the house right away to catch a movie.”

Like I have always said…we Rajans are also made of sterner stuff. Look at the positive side…now I didn’t have to make up an excuse for a 4-5 hours long absence from home.

As my wife opened the door, I looked at her face, brought a fake smile on mine & said: “Whenever I am away from home, I miss you.” This brought a smile on Rekha’s face. I did spot some love as well.

We didn’t use the mop, though.

Rhea dresses up as a Punjabi girl

Regional unrest in my house

You know the good thing about father-in-laws? Once you are married to their daughters you don’t need to impress them. And, do you know the bad thing about wives? They understand the son-in-law vs father-in-law undercurrents, and thus force you to respect him.

I am a better person early in the morning, so when I saw my father-in-law in just his lungi…I didn’t feel upset that this was the image I would be carrying with me the whole day – an old man in a lungi.

Out of concern for him, I said: “Acha, this is not Kerala. Delhi winter is known to be cruel…please wear a shirt.”

*Acha means father in Malayalam. Of all the ironies, In Hindi it almost means ‘Yes’….

“Ahh! You Tamilians born and brought in 35-40 degree Celsius are really scared of the cold huh?”

Acha, why are you bringing in the regional angle…as if it snows in Kerala?”

“Well we don’t have snow…but the lowest temperature in Kerala is around 15 degree Celsius. That’s pretty cold I would say.” I knew he was proud of being a Malayali and was looking down upon me – as we always do to the guy from the neighboring state.

Acha, in Delhi it goes down to 2 degree Celsius.”

“That’s not much. If we can manage 15 degrees we can manage 2 degrees – after all, it is only less…not more.”

I couldn’t see his shirtless torso any more, so congratulated him for his bravado hoping that soon he will catch a cold and start respecting my views. Obviously, I didn’t reveal my plan of doing the traditional karagatam dance around his bed while he will be recuperating.

Just in case you didn’t know…. I have bought him a new pair of bathroom slippers so that he doesn’t feel the cold of the vitrified tiles, and I have also bought him a jacket for the early morning chill. He is yet to use both of them.

I left for office thinking that the evening could only be better than the morning.

At about 6 p.m. I rang the bell of my house and my father in law opened the door – still standing in just his lungi.

As if to tease me, he said: “By the way, I am yet to catch a cold.”

The house was cold. My father in law’s behaviour was making it colder. I immediately rushed to my room at the far end of the house and shouted to Rekha on the way: “Do you know where my tracks are? And that blue sweatshirt?”

I didn’t get a response. Instead, all I heard was laughter. Pity laughter. Sympathy laughter. Jeering laughing. I-knew-this-guy-would-ask-for-his-sweatshirt laughter.

I found my tracks & my blue sweatshirt….but didn’t have the heart to wear that and enter the drawing room where all three – my father-in-law, my mother-in-law and my wife were sitting and having tea. I wore my T-shirt and shorts instead. WTF….didn’t know Delhi could be so cold in early November.

Made a mental note: No sweatshirts and tracks for me till the old man starts wearing at least a T-shirt.

If you are a guy and are planning to marry somebody from another State, I would suggest you select a State that’s similar in climatic conditions as yours. Read on to see how the three Malayalis at the table tortured this Tamilian.

“Aren’t you feeling too cold too soon?” My mother in law joined in.

“He always does. Last year he started wearing the winter jackets by mid-October itself.” My wife gave her stamp of approval.

“We Malayalis don’t feel as cold.” My father-in-law generalized.

At that point, I so wanted all the three of them to catch a cold and be bed-ridden for a few days…just to prove a point. I remained quite.

“Is that why you Tamilians try to avoid taking bath?” It was my father-in-law.

“No we don’t.” I insisted.

“Yes, you do…that’s why we in Kerala even have a nickname for Tamilians. We call them ‘Pandi’ – the one that didn’t take bath.” My father-in-law insisted too.

“No Acha, people in Kerala call Tamilians ‘Pandi’ because we were ruled by the Pandyas, the most powerful kings ever in Southern region of India.”

“OK fine….leave the nickname aside. But don’t you guys avoid baths?” Now I knew from where my wife got her ability to nag.

Acha, it was just one day….I felt as if I was about to catch a cold and decided to NOT take bath.” Defending oneself against generalized attacks is difficult.

“No, you did it once when you were in Kerala too.” My mother in law chipped in.

*Amme in Malayalam means Mother.

Amme, that was one day. Besides, if it weren’t for the Tamil men like me you won’t have anybody to marry off your girls to.”

“What do you mean?” My mother-in-law looked confused.

“Yeah, all the men in Kerala have gone to work in the Gelf & marry the Sheik.”

(If you are a non-Malayali, you should read Gelf as the Gulf)

This touched a nerve amongst the three Malayalis in my house. If I were to include my three and a half year old daughter, that would be four Malayalis in the house – she also roams around the house in her cotton vest.

Needless to say, it was an all out war. Thank God I didn’t marry a Muslim girl…my house then would have been a hot-spot for communal riots – Dr Manmohan Singh would have had to come and addressed the Rajans just before the Supreme Court verdict on Babri Masjid decision. And we would have had a three-day curfew – no getting out of your bedrooms before the Supreme Court announced its decision.

Anyway, now they are taunting me to join them in a round-table Tamil Nadu vs Kerala war….so need to finish this article soon.

Like I have said so many times before…we Rajans are made of sterner stuff…we fight it out and fight hard. Maybe, that’s why I have bought Mother Dairy’s 2 Kg Casata ice-cream pack. I won’t be eating it….but the plan is to encourage the three Malayalis in my house to eat ice-cream on chilly winter evenings and get them bed-ridden. Just to prove a point.