City Boy » timepass

This post might be disturbing. Sort of.

Amortya Ray — Wed, 09 Jun 2010 16:21:28 +0000

I logged into my blog today to write some more of my Madrid stories and as usual spent an inordinately large amount of time battling writer’s block and then did what I do best- spent the next half an hour clicking at random places because after a point it just started to get entertaining and I then tried to see if I could do the Mortal Kombat theme using just clickety sounds which I sadly couldn’t. And then I saw the kind of searches that have been sending traffic to my blog and I’m go, “Whaaaaaaaaaaa!!!?”.

I swear this is a clean sfw-ish blog

Yo Google,

What kind of shady porno shop do you think I’m running here. Keep all the porn obsessed people away from my site! This place is for clean family stuff. Mostly. And digs at my family blaming them for my lack of any love life and the fact that I might die alone. And poop and puke. Fix your shit please.

Love,

Toothbrush chronicles

Amortya Ray — Wed, 19 May 2010 00:46:12 +0000

It doesn't fit! (twss)

So as it turns out, deciding which toothbrush to buy is possibly the toughest decision I’ve made in a really long time. As I stood in the toothbrush aisle in Duane Reade, my brain was assaulted by ten million different kinds of brushes. Straight, angular, circular, jagged, firm, medium, soft- the variety was astounding. My tiny brain was ill at ease trying to process all the information and come to a decision. And then I see the fancy, new-age battery powered toothbrushes. Those too had countless to choose from. Some of them even let me try the vibrate feature. I’m not sure what purpose that served though. So I decide to be adventurous and try something new. Ultimately I was sold on the Oral-B CrossAction Battery Powered toothbrush. I hurry home, excited like a little 5 year old boy all set to play with a new toy. And even though it’s just 6.30 in the evening, I decide that today is a good day to start my habit of brushing twice a day. The euphoria around the event largely fizzled as I tested the device. Clearly, it is an acquired skill. My face splattered with remnants of my striped, minty pepsodent toothpaste was evidence enough that I need a lot more practice. And just as quickly as I had ripped the packet apart, I cleaned up and placed my oversized robot brush in its rightful place in my now inadequate jungle/monkey themed bathroom toothbrush and razor holder thingy.

My perfume can be concocted in my kitchen

Amortya Ray — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 13:12:13 +0000

So I was checking out this site and here’s what the test gave me as the cologne that matches my personality. Now I’m wondering why the hell would the perfume guys with their advanced degrees in the alchemy of scents even make something that smells like cardamom, coriander AND cedar. If I wanted to smell like 2 herbs and a coniferous tree, I would probably just open my kitchen cabinet and rub some on my self and then hop on a flight to the Himalayas and DRY HUMP A CEDAR TREE. I had had enough and decided to debunk the bullshit perfume that this clearly shady survey assigned to my sparkling personality.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Now in an effort to give y’all an optimum blog-reading (bleading?) experience, I decided to conduct some stellar research and saw that cardamom is often used as a masticatory. Except that I didn’t know what a masticatory is and Firefox clearly agreed with me as is evident with the dotted-red-underline-thingy.

And since Wikipedia is editable by pretty much anyone, I was convinced that I was a victim of Wikipedia vandalism (it IS A REAL word, look it up), and that word is actually masturbatory, which kind of makes more sense, since this cologne is expected to seduce ANY woman, and hence its ingredients would have such prurient uses. Also the more I tried to imagine the use of cardamom in any sort of multi-person conjugal act, the more my brain spun out of control and the smarties at Google image search couldn’t help me out with this one either.

And then I took another quiz that concluded that was an alcoholic and in desperately need of help which is totally bullshit because all I got was like 3 questions right out of 20. And another that said that I look 62% like Ludacris which is a bucketload of crap because I don’t even have a moustache. And then I took another quiz that would tell me what Twilight character I am but before the goddamn site would give me the answer, it made me fill out like a gazzillion forms and subscribe to another gazzillion newsletters and even then it wouldn’t tell me what I was and then I was so FRUSTRATED THAT I WANTED TO KILL SOMEONE but I didn’t. Instead I finished my drink, closed the computer, drifted to sleep in my wine induced haze, and dreamt about innovative and slightly disturbing uses of cardamom as a masturbatory device.

Lost in Transcription

Amortya Ray — Thu, 31 Dec 2009 23:45:27 +0000

I was meeting a friend for dinner yesterday and it was the one thing I was looking forward to in an otherwise mundane day. Said friend leaves me a voicemail message confirming the appointment and Google Voice picks it up for me. I get an email with the message transcribed. Here’s what the email said:

Google avoid Bailey. Okay, so I am on the train heading out of I. D and she gave me about 25 minutes to get you want and if it’s good and maybe another month rent. Another thing, and 130 minutes of each show, you can just so kind of speculate about an hour from now. I need to get to follow up with the okay, so I’ll give me a call when I get out of the subway. Alright, see you there. Bye.

So I’m all what the fuck? Google screwed up? What am I going to do now? I thought they knew everything about my life? Now I have to figure out where to go ALL BY MYSELF!? I start attempting to decode the message. No dice. I finally give up and just walk down to Trader Joes, where my friend was planning to go. Why, really? Cause cheap wine is awesome. Not as awesome as Bailey’s. Because Bailey’s is fucking awesome.

So we hop on to the green line and head to Ravagh and our lovely waitress tells us that they didn’t have any lamb shank. And I’m like get out of my face already lady!? What did you just say? No lamb shank? What do I do now? I HAVE NO REASON TO LIVE. I was devastated. So after settling for some kebobs, and an appetizer and some non-shanky lamb stew, both of which had the word bademjan in it and contained inordinately large amounts of eggplant, we got done with the meal. But I’m still upset that we didn’t get the lamb shank. And especially mad because my friend didn’t get to try it since I’d been raving about it for the longest time.

Later last night, it hits me that I can listen to the message. That’s right, lissssennn to the message. After the unnecessarily long period when I felt like a total dumbass for not knowing this, I play the message. Here’s what she REALLY said:

Google Voice, really? Okay, so I’m on the train heading out of White Plains and it will take me about 25 minutes to get to 125th street and another 30 minutes maybe to reach Union Square, so kind of calculate about an hour from now for me to get to 14th street. Okay? I’ll give you a call when I get out of the subway. Alright, see you there. Bye.

Google, as awesome as you really are, and as much as I blindly trust you with pretty much every itsy-bitsy bit of information about life (not like I have a choice), its about time you got your shit together and transcribe my voicemails correctly. I’m at a point in life where machines help me make most of my decisions, and NO ONE TAKES THAT AWAY FROM ME!

Siamese Cups

Amortya Ray — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 05:34:25 +0000

For those of you who feel enslaved by the rigors of corporate life day in and day out, I present to you ‘Fun Things To Do At Work”. This is a series of posts include suggestions that can be used to liven the atmosphere of the workplace and at the same time improve one’s creativity with simple and yet fun to do activities. This list, by no means, is exhaustive. In addition, I cannot and will not take credit for many of the items. Credit must be given to my coworkers who come up with the coolest of ways to get past that coma inducing period every white collar worker experiences right after lunch.

Molten Plastic Cup Sculptures

This one, I’m proud to admit, is my baby. Partially inspired by Frank Buffay Junior’s penchant for melting stuff, one fine afternoon, I came across the magical properties of hot water in a plastic cup. It tickled my imagination when I realized while absent-mindedly filling my cup with scalding hot water, that it lead to a peculiar deformation of the cup. And then there was simply no looking back. On the next coffee break, I demonstrate this phenomenon to my slacker-extraordinaire buddies and watch their jaws drop as they witness the awesomeness of the moment!

What do you get when you put a group of creative, underutilized, idle minds together in a pantry with access to a plethora of plastic cups and an infinite supply of hot water? Ladies and gents, I give you the “Siamese Cups”. My chemistry professor would have teared up with genuine joy at this sight.

Plastic cups heated, melted, deformed, fused together at the base, and cooled beneath a tap of running cold water.

Soon to come, an excerpt on the techniques used by professionals to deduce the least optimal route to take to and from the pantry to the desk, so as to maximize the time spent away from the aforementioned desk.