The Cute Guys of Supernatural

WARNING: Intensely drooly post ahead, make sure to wipe your screen after reading. If you are into cute guys, you should probably wipe your keyboard too.

Have you seen Supernatural? Have you? HAVE YOU?

NO?!

Then please go jump off the nearest available cliff/building after reading this post.

Anyhoo. Supernatural is a TV series about two brothers who hunt ghosts, demons & their ilk. Shut up, that’s not stupid. If you want believable entertainment, go watch BBC World. And don’t come back here again.

One of the taglines of the series is- “Scary just got sexy.” Why? Well, this is what the brothers look like:

Oh yeah.

Of course, the guys have been cute since the first season, which aired on Star World quite some time ago. So why this post now? Because, this cute silliness is what happened on my TV screen yesterday:

Yes girls, he’s just adorable. And guys, this is what you should look like if you want hot girls clamoring over you, a la the Axe commercials. Yup, those cans of compressed aerosols won’t work, run along and get a plastic surgery done now.

Tintin Tarantino

Hehe. I guess the only reason his mother didn’t name him Tintin, is because Tintin Tarantino sounds a lot more awesome than Quentin Tarantino. And that would have added to the already latent awesomeness in her son, to produce over-awesomeness not suitable for human consumption.

Anywho, it’s this muchacho’s birthday today! Different people watch Tarantino flicks for different reasons. I watch them for the quirky soundtracks. My absolute favorite is Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood, used to VERY good effect here:

Of course, many watch his films for his so-cool-you-don’t-even-understand-it style.

Happy bardday Quentin! Hope those kids behave and stop censoring your movies for screening them on TV, they can just put them at a late-night slot, duh.

Universal Brotherhood of Road Rage

So I recently got a learner's license for driving a car. And dad's car already has wounds to show for it. I mean, if somebody looked at the car, they'd look at the god-awful dent in the side, then at the L board in front, and nod silently, either in empathy or marvelling at their Sherlockian powers of deduction.

It was not my mistake. Of course, that's what every car-trasher probably says, but even dad agrees with me on this, the dent was caused by that stupid $#^%& 's impatience. Probably to keep his appointment with the President of Seychelles, I guess.

But the knowledge that it wasn't my mistake doesn't ease my guilt. My guts still shrink a little looking at that lone dent, on a car which dad has managed to keep spot-free since forever.

And so today I found this forward in my mail:

FW: Road Rage affects us all

These photos are from Thursday, Feb. 17 by someone from Centurion in Pilanesberg game reserve, South Africa The guy in the white Volkswagen was trying to get past the elephant. Sent by dad. Yes, he can be really sweet, when he's not waxing eloquent about my ability to knock down all knock-down-able things in the vicinity.

Poem To A Man

(Picture from ~llparazitell )

I’m not “asking for it”.

I’m a 21 year old single girl,

A child of no more than 10 years,

A middle-aged mother of two.

I like to party sometimes,

Or attend the evening classes

for my professional course,

Or just play in the sun & sand,

ribbons in my hair blowing in the wind.

It’s me, living my life

one step at a time,

Trying to make sense of the world-

Just like you do too.

But life in this world-

In your world?-

often seems like a game

the rules of which

apply only to me.

These rules are not written anywhere.

I come to know of them

only when I break them.

Don’t go out in the dark.

Look sharp, everyone likes a pretty face.

Don’t look “too pretty”.

Don’t smile too much.

Ignore the stares. And the whistles.

Lose weight, no one likes fat women.

And hide that slim figure when you go out.

Don’t get in crowded buses.

Don’t get in a taxi alone at night.

All of this,

just so that you

will not turn around & say,

“She was asking for it.”

I understand these rules

only when I break them.

Or do they break me?

Because none of them apply to YOU.

I have to change my habits,

My likes, my dislikes, my life-

Just because you can’t be responsible

for what you think?

You cannot “man up”

and control your head?

(And you call me the “weaker sex”.)

Keep this up,

And soon I-

Your wife, your colleague,

Your mother, your niece,

Your sister, your best buddy-

Will have a smile

that no longer reaches my eyes.

Is that what you want?

Is that what will make you happy?

Will you stop this game then?

So the next time you see me

Out on the town

having fun with my friends,

Or walking back home at night

hugging my books,

Or swinging on a swing

in a frock and two pigtails,

Or just living my life,

It’s because I hope

and I trust

that you’re not a weak wuss,

that you’re as strong

as they say you are.

I’m not “asking for it”.

Never have, never will.

*Happy Women's Day!*