some arbit image i got after browsin for hours durin my vetti time although after diggin thru my mind to remember watever little i had learnt in bio...i came up wid d idea dat it resembles d muscle fibres...GOOD GOD.... i was right for once....Prabhavati ma'am wud hav been damn impressed....an exaggeration!!!!!!!

a test dat i took after seeing android's blog

"...guided along as it werea chain of flowers intothe mysteries of life."

THE PROPOSAL

Elizabethan Marriage Customs
“Judy, will you marry me?”
“Of course Joe.”
In modern times this is the way you would propose to the girl that you loved. But in Elizabethan time, this was not so. Well, how do they get married then you ask? Why, let me tell you about the engagement, marriage, and divorce in the Elizabethan times.In Elizabethan times, engagement was actually called bethoral. But the true fun of bethoral was actually getting to it. Usually the parents picked who you would marry, sometimes as early as age seven! (Marriage and Family) You had no say in it at all! Then, a dowry was promised to the husband and his family in goods, money, or property. It was to help certify the marriage. (Patricia 49) Then the husband’s family guarantees a jointure that guarantees her welfare should her husband die first. (Christensen 178) Now to finally get to the fun part, the actual wedding.The wedding itself is fairly simple. First though, the crying of banns must be done on three consecutive holy days. Basically, in the church of the husband and wife they announce their plans to get married. This gives people time to voice any objections and find any pre-contracts. Now, on wedding day the bride and groom usually just wear their best Sunday clothes. (Marriage and Family) That’s right, no fancy white dress that is four foot wide. Then, the wedding is pretty much like nowadays. The vows are said, the bride and groom get their rings, and they kiss. Usually, a bridal ale is held by the now married couple to raise money. The bride sells ale (a favorite drink of the time) at the highest price possible to her friends and family. (Patricia 49) Now the part the man likes, it’s time to go home and have a few kids, since that is the goal of marriage in these times. In fact, it was considered foolish to marry for love. That is yet again correct, no marrying just because you like someone. But what happens if you want to get away from the other person or if the other person dies. Well, that is the topic of our next paragraph.Now, luckily many provisions were put in the wedding contract for divorce and death. In this time, divorce was fairly simple if you were Catholic. You both consent to it and it is done. Also, one could withdraw unilaterally if the other is seriously disfigured, proves to be married to another person, or if a long separation has occurred between them. (Marriage and Family) Being Protestant was a little bit harder, since you can’t apply to the Pope. You have to get an Act of Parliament! So as you can see, Protestants didn’t get divorced much in this period. (Marriage and Family) But death is truly more important than divorce because of some strange contracts. Now, the man is just out if the woman dies, but if the man dies before the woman then the jointure comes into play. She gets that money, goods, etc. and is entitled to 1/3 of his estates after the bills are paid. So to tell you the truth, the wedding doesn’t really benefit the woman much, but the jointure sure does.So as this paper comes to a close, let’s review what we have seen about weddings in the Elizabethan period. We have seen everything from the engagement of the man and woman to divorce and death. Oh, and we can’t forget about the wedding itself. Now how about me telling you a little bit about how John and Judy are doing today. They are very successful and all I can say about them and this paper is,“I do!”Honey, hold on, not that kind of “I do”. Oh drats, now see what you made me do? Now I have to get married!

ELVIS DIED AT THE FLORIDA BARBER COLLEGE

At ten years old I could not figure out what it was that this Elvis Presley guy had that the rest of us boys did not have. I mean, he had a head, two arms and two legs, just like the rest of us. Whatever it was he had hidden away must have been pretty darn good because he had every young girl at the orphanage wrapped around his little finger. About nine o'clock on Saturday morning I decided to ask Eugene Correthers, one of the older boys, what it was that made this Elvis guy so special. He told me that it was Elvis' wavy hair and the way he moved his body. About a half an hour later all the boys in the orphanage were called to the main dining-room and told that we were all going to downtown Jacksonville, Florida to get a new pair of Buster Brown shoes and a hair cut. That is when I got this big idea, which hit me like a ton of bricks. If the Elvis hair cut was the big secret, then that's what I was going to get. All the way to town that was all I talked about. The Elvis hair cut that I was going to get. I told everybody, including the matron from the orphanage who was taking us to town, that I was going to look just like Elvis Presley and that I would learn to move around just like he did and that I would be rich and famous one day, just like him. I was smiling from ear to ear when I got my new Buster Brown shoes and I was very proud as I walked around the store showing everyone. They shined really, really good and I liked looking at the bones in my feet through this special x-ray machine that they had in the shoe store that made the bones in your feet look green. I could hardly wait for my new hair cut and now that I had my new Buster Brown shoes I would be very happy to go back to the orphanage and practice being like Elvis. We finally arrived at the big barber shop, where they cut our hair for free 'cause we were orphans. I ran up to one of the barber chairs and climbed up onto the board that he put across the arms to make me sit up higher. I looked at the man and said "I want a Elvis hair cut. Can you make my hair like Elvis?" I asked him, with a great big smile on my face. "Let's just see what we can do for you, little man," he said. I was so happy when he started to cut my hair. Just as he started to cut my hair the matron motioned for him to come over to where she was standing. She whispered something into his ear and then he shook his head, like he was telling her, "No". She walked over to another man sitting in the office chair and spoke to him. Then the little man walked over and said something to the man who was cutting my hair. The next thing I knew, the man who was cutting my hair told me that they were not allowed to give us Elvis hair cuts. I saw him put this comb thing onto the end of the clippers and then I saw all my hair falling onto the floor.

When he finished shaving off all my hair and made me smell real good with this powder, he handed me a nickel and told me to go outside to the cracker machine and buy myself a candy bar. I handed him the nickel back and told him that I was not hungry. "I'm so sorry, baby" he said, as I climbed out of his barber chair. "I am not a baby", I said, as I wiped the tears from my eyes. I sat down on the floor and brushed the hair off my new Buster Brown shoes so they would stay shinny and new. I got up off the floor, brushed off my short pants, and walked towards the door. The matron was smiling at me sort of funny like. The man who had cut my hair walked over to her and said to her, "You are just a damn bitch, lady." She yelled back, real loud, at him and then she walked toward the office, as fast as she could. The man hit the wall with his hand and then he walked outside where he stood against the brick wall, smoking a cigarette. I slowly walked outside and stood beside him. He looked down, smiled at me, then he patted me on the top of my bald head. I looked up at him with my wet red eyes and said, "Do you know if Elvis Presley has green bones?"

DEATH BY SCRABBLE

It's a hot day and I hate my wife.We're playing Scrabble. That's how bad it is. I'm 42 years old, it's a blistering hot Sunday afternoon and all I can think of to do with my life is to play Scrabble. I should be out, doing exercise, spending money, meeting people. I don't think I've spoken to anyone except my wife since Thursday morning. On Thursday morning I spoke to the milkman. My letters are crap. I play, appropriately, BEGIN. With the N on the little pink star. Twenty-two points. I watch my wife's smug expression as she rearranges her letters. Clack, clack, clack. I hate her. If she wasn't around, I'd be doing something interesting right now. I'd be climbing Mount Kilimanjaro. I'd be starring in the latest Hollywood blockbuster. I'd be sailing the Vendee Globe on a 60-foot clipper called the New Horizons - I don't know, but I'd be doing something. She plays JINXED, with the J on a double-letter score. 30 points. She's beating me already. Maybe I should kill her. If only I had a D, then I could play MURDER. That would be a sign. That would be permission. I start chewing on my U. It's a bad habit, I know. All the letters are frayed. I play WARMER for 22 points, mainly so I can keep chewing on my U. As I'm picking new letters from the bag, I find myself thinking - the letters will tell me what to do. If they spell out KILL, or STAB, or her name, or anything, I'll do it right now. I'll finish her off. My rack spells MIHZPA. Plus the U in my mouth. Damn. The heat of the sun is pushing at me through the window. I can hear buzzing insects outside. I hope they're not bees. My cousin Harold swallowed a bee when he was nine, his throat swelled up and he died. I hope that if they are bees, they fly into my wife's throat. She plays SWEATIER, using all her letters. 24 points plus a 50 point bonus. If it wasn't too hot to move I would strangle her right now. I am getting sweatier. It needs to rain, to clear the air. As soon as that thought crosses my mind, I find a good word. HUMID on a double-word score, using the D of JINXED. The U makes a little splash of saliva when I put it down. Another 22 points. I hope she has lousy letters.

She tells me she has lousy letters. For some reason, I hate her more. She plays FAN, with the F on a double-letter, and gets up to fill the kettle and turn on the air conditioning. It's the hottest day for ten years and my wife is turning on the kettle. This is why I hate my wife. I play ZAPS, with the Z doubled, and she gets a static shock off the air conditioning unit. I find this remarkably satisfying. She sits back down with a heavy sigh and starts fiddling with her letters again. Clack clack. Clack clack. I feel a terrible rage build up inside me. Some inner poison slowly spreading through my limbs, and when it gets to my fingertips I am going to jump out of my chair, spilling the Scrabble tiles over the floor, and I am going to start hitting her again and again and again. The rage gets to my fingertips and passes. My heart is beating. I'm sweating. I think my face actually twitches. Then I sigh, deeply, and sit back into my chair. The kettle starts whistling. As the whistle builds it makes me feel hotter. She plays READY on a double-word for 18 points, then goes to pour herself a cup of tea. No I do not want one. I steal a blank tile from the letter bag when she's not looking, and throw back a V from my rack. She gives me a suspicious look. She sits back down with her cup of tea, making a cup-ring on the table, as I play an 8-letter word: CHEATING, using the A of READY. 64 points, including the 50-point bonus, which means I'm beating her now. She asks me if I cheated. I really, really hate her. She plays IGNORE on the triple-word for 21 points. The score is 153 to her, 155 to me. The steam rising from her cup of tea makes me feel hotter. I try to make murderous words with the letters on my rack, but the best I can do is SLEEP. My wife sleeps all the time. She slept through an argument our next-door neighbours had that resulted in a broken door, a smashed TV and a Teletubby Lala doll with all the stuffing coming out. And then she bitched at me for being moody the next day from lack of sleep.

If only there was some way for me to get rid of her. I spot a chance to use all my letters. EXPLODES, using the X of JINXED. 72 points. That'll show her. As I put the last letter down, there is a deafening bang and the air conditioning unit fails. My heart is racing, but not from the shock of the bang. I don't believe it - but it can't be a coincidence. The letters made it happen. I played the word EXPLODES, and it happened - the air conditioning unit exploded. And before, I played the word CHEATING when I cheated. And ZAP when my wife got the electric shock. The words are coming true. The letters are choosing their future. The whole game is - JINXED. My wife plays SIGN, with the N on a triple-letter, for 10 points. I have to test this. I have to play something and see if it happens. Something unlikely, to prove that the letters are making it happen. My rack is ABQYFWE. That doesn't leave me with a lot of options. I start frantically chewing on the B. I play FLY, using the L of EXPLODES. I sit back in my chair and close my eyes, waiting for the sensation of rising up from my chair. Waiting to fly. Stupid. I open my eyes, and there's a fly. An insect, buzzing around above the Scrabble board, surfing the thermals from the tepid cup of tea. That proves nothing. The fly could have been there anyway. I need to play something unambiguous. Something that cannot be misinterpreted. Something absolute and final. Something terminal. Something murderous. My wife plays CAUTION, using a blank tile for the N. 18 points. My rack is AQWEUK, plus the B in my mouth. I am awed by the power of the letters, and frustrated that I cannot wield it. Maybe I should cheat again, and pick out the letters I need to spell SLASH or SLAY. Then it hits me. The perfect word. A powerful, dangerous, terrible word. I play QUAKE for 19 points. I wonder if the strength of the quake will be proportionate to how many points it scored. I can feel the trembling energy of potential in my veins. I am commanding fate. I am manipulating destiny. My wife plays DEATH for 34 points, just as the room starts to shake. I gasp with surprise and vindication - and the B that I was chewing on gets lodged in my throat. I try to cough. My face goes red, then blue. My throat swells. I draw blood clawing at my neck. The earthquake builds to a climax. I fall to the floor. My wife just sits there, watching.

MY MIND SPEAKS..........

this is the first time i am using this blog as a let out off all my feelings, writing wat i fell i need to say. this is to u sue, its been so long sice we had a normal conversation. so long since we met person to person like we always usd to in school. everyday, at first i tried to tell myself that its ok she's not gone far i can always call her whenver i want to, shes on speed dial at all times. but today i realised how wrong i have been....she's drifted farther than i could have ever imagined. or perhaps i have drifted farther away from myself. gone into hibernation and then when i woke up after the metamorphosis i had changed so much i hardly recognised myself...its weird..like everything is right now....how fact and fiction fuse into one entity....how like love and hate are pretty much the same....i have changed too much to look at the world in the same perspective as i did earlier....its fine for ideologies and beliefs but what about relationships, what about long time freindships..i cant read ur mind like i once could....or perhaps u let me and now we are just too far apart to connect...watever the reason the effect is deppresingly fatal....we have drifted apart....had u been my girlfreind i could have so convieniently said "look i dont think things are working out lets break off amicably. hey we can still be freinds and all but i dont think this thing is going anywhere" but hell u r my confidante my counsello my elder sis and i cant do this, so lets do it the other way around. lets assume or rather pretend we are strangers on a journey and we happen to meet each other in a coffee shop (or wherever u want us to meet). let us unlearn everything we know about each other. coz i from my side have changed so much that u really really need to know me again from scratch. and i need to know u too. if we find each other likable once again its great else....i'll cherish the moments we had together in school right from day one in eight to somewhere in college where this infinite distance started creeping in. i should have posted this way earlier sue. i am really sorry, life's pretty screwed up down here. i wanted you to know how i feel and this is it. lets be strangers once again, i am hoping we like what we learn, coz what i was is not wat i am and wat i am is very much different from wat u assume me to be. so long stranger i wish u have a beautiful day.