Doggone love..will it work out?

I was going through some photos I had and came across these.. thought I’ll put them up here with the story behind them..

At home, we have this dude called Chico, also known as Dingiri Appo. He’s a blonde lab/ alsatian and has almost nothing upstairs (this was the way he was born, apparently). He doesn’t know he’s a dog, and thinks he’s human (I think). He used to have gender issues and couldn’t decide if he should pee like a boy or a girl and for a long time did it both ways, depending on the mood. I’m not sure if he has resolved these issues since I haven’t seen him in a few months! He also insists that we include him in anything and everything we do – including the “family discussions”. For eg, when a few of us pounce on a topic and sit around talking, wherever he may be, Dingiri Appo, aka Chico, comes running in, heaves himself onto his chair (to which ownership has been claimed by force) and sits there with a face expression which says okay-you-can-start-talking-now-that-I’m-here-and-all. This is a classic example:

This particular photo though was taken by Turtle earlier this year, during one of Dingiri Appo’s mad fits (which he has right after a bath) hence the kinda themichcha kukula look around the neck!

Anyways, earlier this year, Dingiri Appo was on a desperate girlfriend search. He developed a thing for a girl doggy who was quite, quite unacceptable to the family. So after many attempts to convince him of her unsuitability, it was decided that we must introduce him to someone more suitable. So, answering an ad in Kelaniya for a “free to good home” girl dog, we went and fetched her for Dingiri. This potential-girlfriend is called Timmy (yes, after the Famous Five Timmy – we didn’t choose the name, the previous owners did) and her most beautiful feature is that she has white whiskers on the right side of her face and black whiskers on the left like so:

Is it any wonder it was love at first sight for Dingiri Appo? (sometimes he’s so arrested by her, he even forgets to pick up his empty-plastic-bottle-toy and run around like a mad thing):

But

, perhaps we got the nakatha, etc wrong, for she rejected him outright at the time. Poor Dings! Now, however, I’ve been told, they are friends and take their siesta, etc, together like so:

So in conclusion, fingers crossed, here’s hoping that she’ll come around in time and they’ll live happily ever after as dog man and wife.

(All pics courtesy of the

Turtle)

Today ;o(

Borrowed a car from a friend cos I needed to get some chores done (which could not be done on the bus!)..and I should have known something bad was gonna happen cos the entrance to the highway was closed and had to start my journey reversing more than 500 meters down the road to get to the next street since my street is one way.. Anyway, so on the way passed two dead birds and was starting to kinda wonder wtf was going on today when two streets before the destination, took a wrong turn, crashed into truck (an 8 wheeler!!) and got myself well and truly wedged between the engine bit and the loonnnggg bit that carries things (and I can’t be bothered looking up what those bits are called so shall just call ‘em “bits”).

Did I die? No. But there was enough crunching to make me think I probably was dead even though a voice in my head kept sayin omg,omg,omg,omg over and over again ;o( A dude passing by stopped and drove me around the corner to a nearby petrol shed seeing as I was hardly managing to stay on my feet, nevermind get myself behind the wheel again. After this kindly stranger left, after making me promise that I will call a friend to pick me up, I proceeded to sit in the petrol shed for 45 minutes shaking..with that damned voice STILL going omg, omg, omg,omg..

I’ve been driving for the last 8 years and have never even come close to hitting something (nothing spectacular enough to remember at least), on Sri Lankan mad roads too mind, and then have to fucking wedge myself in a truck here on these neat wide roads a couple of weeks before I leave the country!! Arrgghh.

After all that drama I get home to a neat note left by the housemate which says that the internet at home won’t be reconnected till at least mid mext week. Which means I’m going to have to live with this bloody omg-ing voice for the next 4 or 5 days without any other distraction, by the end of which I will surely be a raving lunatic.

Shit.Shit.SHIT.

A crazy day in a crazy country

You know it’s time to get out of this mad country when you wake up to glorious sunshine..

..followed by rain..

..followed by hail..

..bits of ice everywhere..

..bits of ice on the grass..

..and then blue skies once again..

..a multi-season day in the middle of Spring..

..that’s Melbourne for you!

Who is "mad" – me or she??

Last week I visited a friend who introduced me to her grandmother who was apparently “not quite right”. She certainly seemed all right to me, but apparently she wasn’t. Since I didn’t know the grandaughter too well, I couldn’t really question her, so while coffee was being made, I talked to the “not quite right” grandma. Or rather, she talked to me.

The news was on and there was a man talking about the failure of the war in Iraq, to which the grandma listened quite patiently beofre suddenly sayin – we don’t realize that everything we do, we do only for ourself. Even when we help someone, we help them only because it gives us the satsifaction of having done some good. And only God does things for others without looking for personal happiness. Not exactly how I see the war in Iraq (!!) or God for that matter, so was this what made her “not quite right”?

No, ‘course not cos when the chick came back with coffee she decided to show me just how “not quite right” her grandma was. She proceeded to ask her grandmother a series of questions. What year is this? After much thought the answer came back – 1982. How old was she? 55 (she was actually 79). How old was the granddaughter? ‘you graduated last year. 24′ (correct). Where did she live? An address so far out in the suburbs I had not heard of the place (though they actually lived very close to the city). Where was grandpa? Glancing at the clock on the wall, ‘at work’ (he had died about 20 years ago I think) and so on.

Throughout this questioning, this chick found these answers hilarious. And the questions got wackier till I told her I didn’t find it funny. I don’t know what exactly the grandma had for she remembered some things quite correctly and other things so very incorrectly..but what disconcerted me was not the errors the grandma made, but the fact that this girl I had thought was quite “normal” was so entertained by her grandmother’s “madness”. Wasn’t that a much worse madness than whatever the old lady had?? And is the fact that I find the girl “mad” and not at all hilarious mean that I myself is afflicted with some sort of “madness”?

Why is it that we are so quick to see madness in others but not in ourselves? Why is it that we must always point to that mad person and not to this mad person in the mirror? Is it because if we start seeing our own madness, we can never surface from the dark labyrinth we are dragged into? Is it because we start seeing people in the dark alleyways that hitherto ran empty in solitude within us? Maybe it’s because when we start seeing those that hover in the twilight of our hearts, we expect others to see them and we want others to see them. When they cannot, we are disappointed. Maybe it is to shield ourselves, from this disappointment, from that feeling of utter aloneness we feel when we realize that we are alone among those ghosts within us, that we refuse to see the madness within us and are quite happy to pass judgment on others.

Ho hum..what boredom can do to one..

I’ve been accused, that I’ve not posted for a while on this thing, by my one-member fan club (yes, it’s still only one ;o( ..but then again, how many members does a manshark fan club need anyway?!)

I’ve spent about 5 days at home now and it’s driving me stark raving mad. I see why people are asked to go out and meet other people..it keeps the madness at bay for li’l while at least. BUT omg, what I realized when I did go out yday. Since I started this blog I now think of myself as Manshark..in the third person!! Omg, omg, omg..

Firstly, yday I was at lunch with a friend and, referring to my headache, I said “poor li’l manshark’s head” (!!!) and he’s like “WHAT?!?” Arrgghh..almost stabbed myself with the butter knife…(btw, there was this schizophrenic dude who actually committed suicide by stabbing himself with a butter knife..Okay, you didn’t need to know that as interesting as it is, but I just realized that the direction my thoughts were progressing in may not be too safe in the long run..mmh).

Secondly, I have now started thinking in the third person too..such as..manshark is hungry, etc..which is doubly wierd since I never referred to meself in the third person aloud or inside my head even before the advent of manshark..What the?!?

Thirdly, I’m convinced this is a contagious disease I’ve caught from that sexy-boot-wearing-Turtle, who by the way, has promised to get me some of ‘em very nice elmo socks (ernie would do too) for my next b’day (to keep away the maduruwas and such in Lanka)..so reminder for Turtle..you now have 139 days..I suggest you forget all that reading and uni and things and get out there asap..

Fourthly, apologies to those who’ve been reading this blog like it’s a so-very-important-doc to fool the boss..but I’m fast running out of anymore mind-boggling, jaw-breaking things to say here so I reckon I’ll wrap this up..

Fifthly, if you do, however, need to still pretend to keep reading, then stare very hard and intently at the pic of the flame on my profile bit on the right..if you’re doing it right you will see the flame wavering..enjoy!

*Manshark runs off muttering to herself*