FTC...

It started innocently enough.
DoM and Thurman were talking in class about Thurman's inability to find a boyfriend, and thus be truly happy. We were in accord that she was asexual, which she seemed to vehemently deny. It was overuled, and we, the jury of her peers found her guilty of Not Getting Any. Now, I'm not doing any beanspilling here, but she's not. The past few days made for some startling changes in Thurman's life, and let's just say I'll never look at her the same way again. *Seriously, with him? Bejeezus!* But I dye grass.
I, being the perv that I am, and best-friendly-neighbourhood-sidekick suggested she find the c. As in, find her C. Still didn't get it? It rhymes with Dolores. Haven't you seen that Seinfeld episode? "Ohhhh, that C!" Yes, that C, Vos Savant. I'm talking about the clitoris, ladies and genitals. Thurman, colouring slightly at the suggestion, defiantly declared that she knew where it was, thank you very much. *And you'd better have a pistol, fucker, because we are about to duel!* Ah, so, the phrase was born. Like the importunate beggar who lurks in the shadows of restaurant awnings, I pestered and pounded the dreaded phrase into their heads. FTC. FTC. FTC. But even I didn't realise its larger implications till much, much later. The epiphany hit me like... well, an epiphany. Somewhere between episode 4 of Gossip Girl on Satan's iPod and a gulp of Oxyrich procured from the obliging cheta-of-the-court. Now, my splintered mind often wanders, drifts, and meanders its way hand-in-hand with imagination, sprackle and logic in the dark, vast and unknown cavern of Brianshead, leaving my feeble consciousness to hold the fort till they get back. It was on their many travels that they came upon this vital nugget of information. EVERYTHING THAT MAKES WOMEN HAPPY STARTS WITH A "C." Think about it. Absorb it. Imbibe it. Digest it. Gaze at its beauty, bask in its simplicity, and ponder over its truthiness. (Thank you, Mr. Colbert) Of course, I had my scoffers. But then, I asked them to name 10 things which made them happy. Atleast one started with "C", whether they liked to admit it or not. Even the things that didn't could be connected with a "C" word. For example, one girl said her Boyfriend made her happy. Now, if you reduce it down to the core elements of their relationship, you'd get Crush, Comfort, Cash, Company, Chemistry, Care, Companionship, Coitus, Cock(slang, but who cares? Put your hand down, Priyanka!), the list could go on and on... You see? Every woman needs to find her C! It could be Credit Cards, it could be Coffee, it could be Chick-lit, it could be Candy, it could be Cocaine, it could be Clothes, it could be Cults, it could be Cars, it could be Cartoons, it could be Cigarettes, it could be Cosmetics, it could be Children, it doesn't matter... Somewhere out there, there's a C-word for every unhappy woman on the planet...
I hope to Yorke they all find it someday. *Confucius say, Hope is dope.*
So, remember, FTC.
...Ondu Shabda a Day Keeps the Constable Away...
Owing to my pathetic Kannada skills (not pronounced Canada, my venerable grand auntie informs me, whilst clipping me on the back of the head for being such a dufus) I often find myself at the mercy of the police when they stop my firangi self, careening from A to B on The Deathtrap. Hence, I have resolved and purposefully made a resolution to have a determination to unwaveringly learn, by steadfastness and concentration, a new kannada word for every blog post of mine. Hopefully, not only will I learn, but others in the same boat as me (Return of the Natives, are you reading this?) can also glean some useful bits to practice on the Dastardly-Bastards-in-Fat-suits-in-Cops-Clothing. So, let's start with the title. Ondu means one, (I hope! If not, the title gets some blessed irony.) And Shabda means word. Not the Ebonics variety, but the actual, literal term. Hopefully, I can learn some proper Kannada this time around, and not leave listeners in splits with my weird amalgam of English/Hindi/Warlpiri/Morse Code...
Thats enough for a first post I suppose. See ya next week.
*Beep*