Urgent Requirement Plz Fwd To All

Apparently there is a highly desired Indian woman with my name who has given her email address to many people incorrectly. In fact, she's given them my email address. Over the past couple of years I've received more and more random emails from people I don't know, often in either broken or incredibly proper English. As google chat became more popular, I started receiving messages from men insisting they knew me. They met me at the call center when we both worked there. They knew my brother. Why was I being so mean to pretend I didn't know them? I feel a bit bad for the poor girl, because she probably gets a lot of people angry with her after I insist that I do not know these men.

This morning I received my favorite email thus far. I'm sure it's a joke, but I'm still very amused. :)


Dear Ones,

Due to recession, I left my Girlfriend (as part of my cost cutting efforts). I need new one now, so pass on this information to your female friends...

Applications are invited for the following post. The package and incentives are mentioned below:

Designation : Junior girl friend (trainee)

Experience : at least of 2 years (Fresher with excellent credentials will be considered)

Other requirement : Should have the Potential to do street bargaining and fight if required.

Age: 18-23 (if the individual is too good looking but not in the age group can also apply, special consideration will undertaken for them)

Height, weight, complexions no bar, but is subjective.

Perks and incentives:

Total gross ( Monthly ) :
• 2 gifts worth not exceeding Rs. 1000/-(no precious metals, stones)
• Bike rides each duration 1 hour
• Trips to National Highways
• 5 Trips to Hanuman Mandir / Iskcon Temple
• Kulfis / Chocobars at a regular gap of 3 days
• Daily Provision of Samosa/Bread Pakoda/Bhel worth Rs. 10 /-
• 2 movies per month (on weekends)
• Visits to Shopping Malls and BARISTA every weekend (On your own expense)
A Pair of Jeans or T-shirts according to demand will be gifted, subject to finance availability and to the size available with the shopkeeper.

Net Deductions (Monthly): Affair Fund and Un-professional taxes will be informed on joining.
The probation period is 6 months, after which confirmation (with Promotion to fulltime Girlfriend)

Please NOTE:
1. Only females.
2. Girls who left in the last 2 months need not apply.
3. Ex-girlfriends will be eligible only if they agree to the above mentioned conditions.

There is more:
For girls who are not eligible, can take advantage of the referral program by referring their friends, colleagues etc.
Candle light/Tube light dinner will be given on every referral, even if candidate is not selected.
Search never ends!!
Interested candidates can send their resume with

Subject: Name/fresher-exp/age.
Full Photo must be attached in the email

Note: Applications without photo will be rejected.
This message (including any attachments) is intended only for
the use of the individual or entity to which it is addressed and
may contain information that is non-public, proprietary,
privileged, confidential, and exempt from disclosure under
applicable law or may constitute as attorney work product.
If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified
that any use, dissemination, distribution, or copying of this
communication is strictly prohibited. If you have received this
communication in error, notify us immediately by telephone and
(i) destroy this message if a facsimile or (ii) delete this message
immediately if this is an electronic communication.

Thank you.


Brilliant Friends

I was talking to a friend who is going through the end of his marriage, and we were discussing the weirdness of being so much older now than we were the last time we dated. I've definitely grown a lot as a person since that period more than 4 years ago, but it seems my dating maturity hasn't. My friend put it perfectly:

It's as though my mind is 31, but my heart is still 21 in its capacity for excitement and nervousness. And now my mind doesn't really trust my heart, but still is letting it drive the ship.

That is exactly how I feel.


A Real Love Story

I've never been as affected by a description of real love as I was by this passage from Marian Keyes' Anybody Out There? Such a moving moment, and I can only hope that someday I, and those I love, can experience something this beautiful.

I used to be a right hypochondriac. Not that I faked being sick, but when it happened, I was very interested in and tried to involved Aidan in the drama. If I had, say, a toothache, I'd give him regular bulletins on my symptoms. "It's a different kind of pain now," I'd say. "Remember when I said it was a kind of hummy ache--well, it's changed. More darty." Aidan was was used to me and my drama, and he's day, "Darty, hey? That's new."

I'd even broken a bone about a year and a half ago; I'd been rummaging through cupboards looking for something and I turned around too quickly, cracked my finger against a drawer, and started bellyaching, "Ooh, Christ, oh God. Oh, my finger, that's awful."

"Sit down," Aidan said. "Show me. Which one?"

He took my finger and--I know this sounds a little weird--he held it in his mouth. His mom used to do it for him and Kevin when they were little and now he did it for me whenever I injured a body part. "I seemed to have a very accident-prone crotch.) I shut my eyes and waited for the heat of his mouth to effect the merciful ebbing away of pain.


"Actually, no." Surprising--it usually worked.

"That's bad, it'll have to come off." Before our eyes, my finger swelled and fattened, like a speeded-up video of bread rising. At the same time the color changed from red to gray to almost black.

"Christ," Aidan said, "that is bad, maybe it will have to come off. Better get you to the ER." We jumped in a taxi, my hand laid across our laps, like a sick little rabbit. AT the hospital they took me off for an X-ray and I was thrilled--yes, I admit it, thrilled--when the doc clipped an X-ray to a light box and said, "Yep, there we are, hairline fracture across the second knuckle."

Even though I didn't get put in proper plaster, just a splinty-type thing, it felt nice not to be dismissed as a malingerer. I had "a Fracture." Not just a bruise, not even a strain (or sprain, I'm never sure if they're the same thing, and if they're not, which is more impressive) but a Fracture.
In the following days, when everyone looked at my splint and asked, "What happened?" Aidan always answered on my behalf. "Downhill skiing slalom, she clipped one of the poles." Or "Mountaineering, small rockfall, hit her hand."

"Well," as he said to me, "it's got to be better than saying 'looking for my blue shoes.'"

The hospital had given me two X-rays to bring home, and hypochondriac that I am, I used to study them; I held them up against the light and marveled at how long and slender my fingers really were beneath all that pesky muscle and skin and stuff, while Aidan watched indulgently.

"See that tiny line on my knuckle," I said, holding an X-ray right up close to my face. "It just looks like a hair, but it causes so much pain."

Suddenly anxious, I said, "Don't tell anyone I do this."

A few days later, he was home from work before me--an unusual occurrence--and there was an air of suppressed excitement about him. "Notice anything?" he asked.

"You combed your hair?"

Then I saw it. Them. My X-rays. Hanging on the wall. In frames. Beautiful distressed-gold frames, like they were holding old masters instead of ghostly black-and-whites of my spindly fingers.

My arms wrapped themselves across my stomach and I sank onto the couch. I hadn't even the strength to stand. It was so funny that for ages I couldn't even laugh. Finally the noise fought its way up through my convulsed stomach and heaving chest and emerged as a ceiling-ward shriek. I looked at Aidan, who was clutching the wall; tears of laughter were leaking form the sides of his eyes.

"You mad bastard," I finally managed.

"But there's more," he gasped. "Anna, Anna, there's more. Watch; no, wait, watch."

He doubled over again with hilarity, then straightened up, wiped his face and said, "Look!"

He pressed a switch and suddenly my two X-rays lit up, blazing into glory, just like they were on a hospital light box.

"I got lights," Aidan sobbed. "The guy in the frame place said I could get lights, so...so...so...I got lights."

He turned them off, then on again. "See? Lights."

"Stop," I begged, wondering if it was possible to actually die from laughing. "Oh, please, stop."

When I was able, I said, "Do the lights again."

He flicked them on and off several times, while further waves of mirth seized me, and when we were eventually exhausted from laughing, and curled up on the couch, Aidan asked, "You like?"

"I love. It's the best present I ever got."

ohmygoodness. I. want. that. love.


Such a Loser

After a weekend of no sleep, non-stop working, a total computer meltdown, throwing a couple thou at a new computer, and very unhealthy fast eating, I just received word that my deadline is now tomorrow morning instead of Wednesday.

I cried. Seriously could not even contain it. I cried right in front of my boss.