We’ve all read of this woman who dropped hot coffee that SHE ordered and SHE was carrying, on HERSELF – and sued the café for it being too hot ! And WON a million dollars!
That’s America !
I am making a list of who to sue, cos I could sure use a million dollars.
When Neel was 4, he fell in a Mickey Mouse birthday party, and fractured his arm.
Ban parties ! Sue Walt Disney ? Sue the floor for being too hard?
When Neel was 5, the wind blew the door shut and his finger got cut off.
Sue the South West Monsoon? Ban all doors ?
Not working the way I wanted it to. Can’t see those million dollars anywhere near.
I busted my lip. Tried to make up an exciting story for it, but the truth is I slipped on a toy car at home. (my house looks like a Bangalore traffic jam with toy cars strewn in every corner).
Sue the Hot Wheels car makers for making cars with 4 wheels?
The house is child-safe. All plug points are covered in cello tape. The stairs have a latched gate (That even the dog has learnt to open). Knives, scissors and sharp stuff is shut away.
Niks threw a spoon at Neel and hit him on the head. Neel whacked Niks with a broom and nearly dislocated his neck.
Ban brooms? Sue the makers of spoons and plates?
Niks tumbled over his own shoes and fell on his nose.
SUE THE WORLD for its unfair law of gravity !!!
Learning : Nah ! I think there’s nothing wrong with the way the world and its manufacturers of stuff work. It’s our kids. Let’s face it.
Even better, let’s sue them ! That’s my only million dollar idea so far. Sue them for being so totally accident-prone and kid-like, and hope that they will become billionaire rock stars real fast, and therefore be able to shell out a million dollar lawsuit to their poor ole mom n dad.
JANE KIDDING. my life as a pretty (bad) mom, worse manager and good survivor, and how to find everything hysterical (strictly in hindsight).
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
The doctor's waiting room
Doctor looking out at the room through his one-way glass, wonders when this evening’s crowd of patients will ever end. Also wonders if he can finally ask his receptionist out to a drink after work.
Receptionist looking at the coiffeured woman in her mid-40s, immaculately dressed, each hair in place. Wonders if this is the person the doctor talks of cheating his wife with.
The woman in her mid-40s looks quietly over her fashion magazine at the young man sitting near her in his 20s, in his tight-fitting jeans, chewing gum, and wonders what it will be like to have a fling with a guy like that, all muscles and no brains, no strings attached.
The young guy chews his gum and openly stares at the teenage girl right across from him, and thinks up a dozen situations of them together. He keeps staring at her, willing her to look at him.
The teenage girl feels openly resentful of that gum-chewing idiot salivating all over his shirt, and staring at her. She needs someone with class, like that grey-haired man in the corner chair, who looks like he owns a corner office too, and would know how to dress a young lady in diamonds.
The grey-haired man waits for his turn to go in to meet the doctor, who he has been seeing for months now, with no other reason except that he has a huge crush on him, and today, he finally plans to confess his love for the doc.
Receptionist looking at the coiffeured woman in her mid-40s, immaculately dressed, each hair in place. Wonders if this is the person the doctor talks of cheating his wife with.
The woman in her mid-40s looks quietly over her fashion magazine at the young man sitting near her in his 20s, in his tight-fitting jeans, chewing gum, and wonders what it will be like to have a fling with a guy like that, all muscles and no brains, no strings attached.
The young guy chews his gum and openly stares at the teenage girl right across from him, and thinks up a dozen situations of them together. He keeps staring at her, willing her to look at him.
The teenage girl feels openly resentful of that gum-chewing idiot salivating all over his shirt, and staring at her. She needs someone with class, like that grey-haired man in the corner chair, who looks like he owns a corner office too, and would know how to dress a young lady in diamonds.
The grey-haired man waits for his turn to go in to meet the doctor, who he has been seeing for months now, with no other reason except that he has a huge crush on him, and today, he finally plans to confess his love for the doc.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
chocolate ke peeche kya hai ?
I saw this article in the paper where they have made fuel to run a car out of leftover chocolate. A WHOPPING LIE !
Hint 1 : Left over chocolate. LEFT OVER ? who in their right minds would leave over chocolate? I even lick up the piece that falls under the bed.
Hint 2 : There was a woman model sitting in the car. Hah ! She would have drunk up the chocolate fuel for sure.
Same reason I don’t go for chocolate massages. Would not want to be caught licking myself all over !
Anyway, women love chocolate and it is NOT OUR fault ! Something to do with our hormones or genes or something. Guys prefer vanilla icecream. Ugh ! They must have craters full of that on Mars!
If I catch S sneaking into my chocolate stash, I take it as a personal call to Battle !
Men, listen to this. If you have forgotten to wish her on her birthday, (despite my earlier post on V Day), buy her a chocolate as big as a car. She will eat it, while bonding with her girl friends, and tell them what a jerk you were to forget her birthday. (Hey, no one said this was about YOU winning).
Some more facts about chocolate :
A square of dark chocolate a day prevents strokes. (Therefore, 10 squares should be even healthier).
Good for headaches. Good for PMS. Good for depression. Good for morning perk-ups. Good for evening fatigue. Aphrodisiac.
Bad for the Big Butt Society. It has about a hundred calories in every bite I’m afraid.
However, I have a loophole even for this.
The Ugandan village males like fat women. They have a ‘fattening hut’ where they will keep you for months before they even consider marrying you.
Learning : Girlfriends unite! Let’s meet, eat chocolate and all go to Uganda after that.
Hint 1 : Left over chocolate. LEFT OVER ? who in their right minds would leave over chocolate? I even lick up the piece that falls under the bed.
Hint 2 : There was a woman model sitting in the car. Hah ! She would have drunk up the chocolate fuel for sure.
Same reason I don’t go for chocolate massages. Would not want to be caught licking myself all over !
Anyway, women love chocolate and it is NOT OUR fault ! Something to do with our hormones or genes or something. Guys prefer vanilla icecream. Ugh ! They must have craters full of that on Mars!
If I catch S sneaking into my chocolate stash, I take it as a personal call to Battle !
Men, listen to this. If you have forgotten to wish her on her birthday, (despite my earlier post on V Day), buy her a chocolate as big as a car. She will eat it, while bonding with her girl friends, and tell them what a jerk you were to forget her birthday. (Hey, no one said this was about YOU winning).
Some more facts about chocolate :
A square of dark chocolate a day prevents strokes. (Therefore, 10 squares should be even healthier).
Good for headaches. Good for PMS. Good for depression. Good for morning perk-ups. Good for evening fatigue. Aphrodisiac.
Bad for the Big Butt Society. It has about a hundred calories in every bite I’m afraid.
However, I have a loophole even for this.
The Ugandan village males like fat women. They have a ‘fattening hut’ where they will keep you for months before they even consider marrying you.
Learning : Girlfriends unite! Let’s meet, eat chocolate and all go to Uganda after that.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Windows 2010
You know what would help you avoid shoe bite, traffic fines, eunuchs, sick children suspected of swine flu and thieves ?
Car Windows… No kidding ! the all-in-one cure !
Here’s a chain of events that happened when my niece went clickety-click on the automatic car windows :
- The automatic windows broke – The windows wouldn’t roll down – The windows manufacturer (not Bill Gates) said the repair unit would take 48 hours – I kept the car running with windows up and air con running for 2 hours – So Niks came down with a cold and fever – Spent thousands on his tests and meds – S took 2 days of leave - The windows manufacturer said the unit would take another 48 hours – Met someone I knew while driving on the road – Could not roll down the window to say Hi – Had to open the car door and get out in traffic to say Hi, my Windows won’t roll down – Angry traffic cop –Went to Manipal Hospital – where car valet managed to get windows DOWN and now they wouldn’t go UP – The windows manufacturer said the unit would take another 48 hours – Now driving with windows down all over town – Traffic signal, the “gender-challenged scary beggars” snaking their arms right in – Can’t park the car anywhere outside cos the windows are DOWN – found my old favorite boot hanging on the mirror flicked – found the car shelf flicked - Mosquitoes flying in and out of the car – threatening malaria - sunniest of days no air con – cos the windows won’t go UP - – I had to walk 1 hour 45 minutes to somewhere cos I couldn’t take my windowless car – got a shoe bite- The windows manufacturer said the unit would take another 48 hours.
Learning : So forget Insurance and gym memberships and Buy the Right Car Windows, People! It could one day (or in 48 hours) save your life !
Car Windows… No kidding ! the all-in-one cure !
Here’s a chain of events that happened when my niece went clickety-click on the automatic car windows :
- The automatic windows broke – The windows wouldn’t roll down – The windows manufacturer (not Bill Gates) said the repair unit would take 48 hours – I kept the car running with windows up and air con running for 2 hours – So Niks came down with a cold and fever – Spent thousands on his tests and meds – S took 2 days of leave - The windows manufacturer said the unit would take another 48 hours – Met someone I knew while driving on the road – Could not roll down the window to say Hi – Had to open the car door and get out in traffic to say Hi, my Windows won’t roll down – Angry traffic cop –Went to Manipal Hospital – where car valet managed to get windows DOWN and now they wouldn’t go UP – The windows manufacturer said the unit would take another 48 hours – Now driving with windows down all over town – Traffic signal, the “gender-challenged scary beggars” snaking their arms right in – Can’t park the car anywhere outside cos the windows are DOWN – found my old favorite boot hanging on the mirror flicked – found the car shelf flicked - Mosquitoes flying in and out of the car – threatening malaria - sunniest of days no air con – cos the windows won’t go UP - – I had to walk 1 hour 45 minutes to somewhere cos I couldn’t take my windowless car – got a shoe bite- The windows manufacturer said the unit would take another 48 hours.
Learning : So forget Insurance and gym memberships and Buy the Right Car Windows, People! It could one day (or in 48 hours) save your life !
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Murphy and Me
I ran down the stairs, with the car keys, a book, a toy rubber tiger and my cell phone in my hand. Splattt ! The cell phone fell !
Murphy makes sure whatever’s most precious will fall, whatever’s breakable will break.
If I have keys, book, toy, cell phone and camera? Camera falls !
If I have keys, book, toy, cell, camera and baby ? …. ??!!
Murphy has been wedded to me for ever since I remember, having promised to stick to me in good times and (turn them to) bad – till death do us part. S is aware he has married a bigamist.
As I enter the bathroom in the morning, already very late for something important, the phone rings. It is an earth-shakingly (or bank-shakingly) even more important call from the USA.
“Hello,”(flush sound).
“No, of course, I’m free.” (tap running sound).
“Yesssshh” (while trying to brush my teeth).
“No, you are perfectly clear. Please go on.” (splash while phone falls into bucket of water, and ends call).
I get out of home, and guess who’s in the back seat ? Ole Murphy of course.
He gets me into the longest queue in the traffic jam, behind a Learner Car of a lady who gets out in the middle of the traffic to buy something from a chemist.
I inch forward in the car queue to enter the movie complex. The car before me goes through and they come and slap a PARKING FULL sign and close the gate.
If anything can go wrong, says Murphy’s First Law, it will go wrong.
Today, I have lost my IT papers (kept safe in a place too safe to remember), threw my medicines in the dustbin and the plate with leftovers in the fridge, had a power cut while I was baking a cake, and have a 3 year old down with high fever.
And while rushing home today, I got caught by a traffic cop for talking while driving. No one else in the car. I was not talking on the cell, I tell him, I was talking to Murphy, sitting invisible in my back seat.
If 99 people go wrong, you will be the 1 to get caught, says Murphy.
“Oh shut up,” I tell him.
The cop looks even angrier and doubles my fine.
Murphy makes sure whatever’s most precious will fall, whatever’s breakable will break.
If I have keys, book, toy, cell phone and camera? Camera falls !
If I have keys, book, toy, cell, camera and baby ? …. ??!!
Murphy has been wedded to me for ever since I remember, having promised to stick to me in good times and (turn them to) bad – till death do us part. S is aware he has married a bigamist.
As I enter the bathroom in the morning, already very late for something important, the phone rings. It is an earth-shakingly (or bank-shakingly) even more important call from the USA.
“Hello,”(flush sound).
“No, of course, I’m free.” (tap running sound).
“Yesssshh” (while trying to brush my teeth).
“No, you are perfectly clear. Please go on.” (splash while phone falls into bucket of water, and ends call).
I get out of home, and guess who’s in the back seat ? Ole Murphy of course.
He gets me into the longest queue in the traffic jam, behind a Learner Car of a lady who gets out in the middle of the traffic to buy something from a chemist.
I inch forward in the car queue to enter the movie complex. The car before me goes through and they come and slap a PARKING FULL sign and close the gate.
If anything can go wrong, says Murphy’s First Law, it will go wrong.
Today, I have lost my IT papers (kept safe in a place too safe to remember), threw my medicines in the dustbin and the plate with leftovers in the fridge, had a power cut while I was baking a cake, and have a 3 year old down with high fever.
And while rushing home today, I got caught by a traffic cop for talking while driving. No one else in the car. I was not talking on the cell, I tell him, I was talking to Murphy, sitting invisible in my back seat.
If 99 people go wrong, you will be the 1 to get caught, says Murphy.
“Oh shut up,” I tell him.
The cop looks even angrier and doubles my fine.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
No roses on Valentine Day?
Like most girls, I used to measure how much I was loved by the number of roses, cards, chocolates I got on Val Day.
Like most guys, S doesn’t know what Valentine’s Day even is.
Me : What is Feb 14th ?
S : Tuesday.
This year, it wasn’t any different. No roses. No cards. No wishes.
This is how Val Day went :
S & I were going to the library. I was 45 minutes late. He pretended not to notice.
“I’ll just rush in, get a book, and rush out,”; I said. I spent 25 minutes there, totally forgetting about the rusharound promise. S kept Nik busy all the while, chasing him down one aisle, and up the other, picking up every book Nik pulled out, answering every question Nik asked.
Nik : ‘What you doin?’
S : Reading books.
Nik : Ok. Now, what you doin ?
S filled my car up full tank of petrol.
He paid my phone bill.
He took our 5 year old for a party to have a blast with his own pals.
He couriered a letter for me.
He sat while I had a huge filter coffee.
We both went for a walk in the evening. I changed my mind 3 times over about what to get for dinner. Even the waiter looked like he wanted to throw the naan at me.
I got home with a bad headache.
So S fed Nik.
Nik : I don’t want bread.
S : This is Naan.
Nik : I don’t want Naan.
S : This is not Naan.
Nik :I don’t want Not Naan……
In the evening, a good girl friend wished me Happy Valentine’s Day. What did S give you? She asked.
He gave me the best ever Feb 14th. And 15th. And 16th.
Learning : It’s never measured in roses.
Like most guys, S doesn’t know what Valentine’s Day even is.
Me : What is Feb 14th ?
S : Tuesday.
This year, it wasn’t any different. No roses. No cards. No wishes.
This is how Val Day went :
S & I were going to the library. I was 45 minutes late. He pretended not to notice.
“I’ll just rush in, get a book, and rush out,”; I said. I spent 25 minutes there, totally forgetting about the rusharound promise. S kept Nik busy all the while, chasing him down one aisle, and up the other, picking up every book Nik pulled out, answering every question Nik asked.
Nik : ‘What you doin?’
S : Reading books.
Nik : Ok. Now, what you doin ?
S filled my car up full tank of petrol.
He paid my phone bill.
He took our 5 year old for a party to have a blast with his own pals.
He couriered a letter for me.
He sat while I had a huge filter coffee.
We both went for a walk in the evening. I changed my mind 3 times over about what to get for dinner. Even the waiter looked like he wanted to throw the naan at me.
I got home with a bad headache.
So S fed Nik.
Nik : I don’t want bread.
S : This is Naan.
Nik : I don’t want Naan.
S : This is not Naan.
Nik :I don’t want Not Naan……
In the evening, a good girl friend wished me Happy Valentine’s Day. What did S give you? She asked.
He gave me the best ever Feb 14th. And 15th. And 16th.
Learning : It’s never measured in roses.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Happy Birthday, Nikash
Today, my baby turns 3. Your grandmother has given you a big red car to ride around in. Dipika Mummy gave you a fabulous shirt-jeans combo. Many people will come and give you lovely gifts. And you will be thrilled, but wonder why Mama didn’t give you anything.
I'm giving you what I've got (but not my stash of chocolates hah !) :
Clouds : Your first playschool complaint came in. Your teachers told me while all the other children sat to study, you were wandering around in your own world. I told her, So Am I. Lost in my own world. In the clouds. It’s a beautiful place to be. It’s where the dreams come out of. And life, without those dreams, is F-all !
Bump on the head : You jump off the cabinet, fall, get a bump on your head, cry, and then go jump again. I can't stop you. I have scars on my knees that I got from falling off cycles, and skates, and walls. If there’s a wall, you gotta climb it, Niks. If there’s a sofa, you gotta jump off it. Getting hurt is tons better than living scared.
An orange grape : I asked you the other day what colour the grape is. You said it’s grape-colored. Who said it should be purple? Other people? Books? Teachers? It’s your life, and don’t let anyone else tell you how to live it. (Not even me). Go ahead and be different. Stay honest. And become whatever colour grape you want to.
ok then - some chocolate : Most of all, I want to give you the promise that you are loved. So so sooooo much. And please never be afraid to love back. Go ahead and do anything you want. As long as you don't hurt anyone else. And if you hurt yourself ? There will be a bandaid and a cup of hot chocolate whenever you get home.
And yeah – I’ll try not to call you Baby any more. OK, Pup ? :)
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Hai-Tech
These are the gadgets our household has bought to save its people time and trouble.
The Cell phone : Mine is not charging. I have bought 3 chargers in 3 weeks from. Not charging! I have, with human intelligence found that if laid at an angle of 37 degrees on the bar cabinet, supported by a toy Brontosaurus, held together by a clothes clip and wedged with a tooth-pick, it charges !!! If I replace the toy brontosaurus with a Stegosaurus, it won’t. Or else, I have to stand by the plug point holding the cell phone in place till it charges – while doing nothing else for the 2 hours that this takes. Time-saving device. Hah !
The Microwave : Can do a hundred magnificent things, almost stand on its head. But is used in 99% of Indian households to re-heat ONLY. So, I put the cold milk from the fridge (also tech device – please note) into the microwave to heat quickly. Then Niks scalds his lips and screams. So I put the milk back into the fridge to cool. Final end to this episode : Niks goes to school LATE with burnt lips plus a sneezy nose from milk out of the fridge. Saves trouble. Hmph !!!
The Electric Iron : Our household uses this item as purely educational, since all clothes are sent down to the dhobi. Educational – because Niks is told NOT to TOUCH it, which he chooses to interpret as push Neel onto it, so Neel will touch it instead. And then let’s see what happens.
Laptop : To carry anywhere and have a mobile office. Right now, sits plugged into the mains, since its battery won’t charge. Why is it all items in my house are non-chargeable? But every item in a store that Niks breaks is chargeable? Murphy, c’mon out and let’s talk !
The household also has other inhabitants, some of which are lower-tech-evolved than me. Example : In the middle of a do-or-die presentation, my mom phones me at office to say ‘ The second red light on the washing machine is blinking. Now what to do?’
And there are higher-tech people like my dog, who is the only one who can operate the 5-click guaranteed burglar-proof safety lock on my door.
Learning : They have created a really high-tech appliance which can do children’s homework, fix bulbs, make and pack tiffins, issue warnings, dispense hugs, do crosswords, scrub kids, dress kids, and then drive itself to a full day of work. Guess what it’s called ?
The Cell phone : Mine is not charging. I have bought 3 chargers in 3 weeks from. Not charging! I have, with human intelligence found that if laid at an angle of 37 degrees on the bar cabinet, supported by a toy Brontosaurus, held together by a clothes clip and wedged with a tooth-pick, it charges !!! If I replace the toy brontosaurus with a Stegosaurus, it won’t. Or else, I have to stand by the plug point holding the cell phone in place till it charges – while doing nothing else for the 2 hours that this takes. Time-saving device. Hah !
The Microwave : Can do a hundred magnificent things, almost stand on its head. But is used in 99% of Indian households to re-heat ONLY. So, I put the cold milk from the fridge (also tech device – please note) into the microwave to heat quickly. Then Niks scalds his lips and screams. So I put the milk back into the fridge to cool. Final end to this episode : Niks goes to school LATE with burnt lips plus a sneezy nose from milk out of the fridge. Saves trouble. Hmph !!!
The Electric Iron : Our household uses this item as purely educational, since all clothes are sent down to the dhobi. Educational – because Niks is told NOT to TOUCH it, which he chooses to interpret as push Neel onto it, so Neel will touch it instead. And then let’s see what happens.
Laptop : To carry anywhere and have a mobile office. Right now, sits plugged into the mains, since its battery won’t charge. Why is it all items in my house are non-chargeable? But every item in a store that Niks breaks is chargeable? Murphy, c’mon out and let’s talk !
The household also has other inhabitants, some of which are lower-tech-evolved than me. Example : In the middle of a do-or-die presentation, my mom phones me at office to say ‘ The second red light on the washing machine is blinking. Now what to do?’
And there are higher-tech people like my dog, who is the only one who can operate the 5-click guaranteed burglar-proof safety lock on my door.
Learning : They have created a really high-tech appliance which can do children’s homework, fix bulbs, make and pack tiffins, issue warnings, dispense hugs, do crosswords, scrub kids, dress kids, and then drive itself to a full day of work. Guess what it’s called ?
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Organizing Blues - and Greens
‘Hey,’ said an old friend I’m meeting after 12 years. ‘Isn’t that the same blue whale t-shirt you had back then?’
‘It’s not, ‘ I reply, ‘then I had a dolphin, now it’s turned into a whale’.
In response to those who think I’m hopelessly fashion-challenged, or disorganized, or lazy :
TODAY is WARDROBE ORGANIZING DAY :
Here are my piles :
Pile 1 : To throw out - Those clothes I have worn for 10 years : Bye Bye blue whale T shirt. Bye Bye old blue jeans that I fell off a tree in, and then fell off a bike in. (blood stains to prove it). Bye Bye,– sorry, these go right back in.
Pile 2 : To throw out instead – Clothes I have NOT worn for 10 years (smarter !) There should go all my wedding trousseau sarees, but Ma will stage a hunger-strike, so sarees will go into Pile 3.
Pile 3 : Those clothes I have NOT worn for 10 years BUT will wear again : All those tiny tops and size 24 inch waist jeans. Some day I will lose the tummy and the thighs and the – oh forget it, will just give them to some stick-insect teen I meet.
Pile 4 : Shoooooooooes ! I have (opposed to the 3 pairs of footwear that S owns) - currently 27 pairs, out of which I wear my red keds almost every day. Yet, I keep going out and buying another pair of impossibly high heels. (All linked to childhood advice from my Dad – blame him – he said : “Aim High. Stand Tall.”)
Pile 5 : Slinky black dresses and night wear. Night wear now = pajamas. Stick-insect teen – your lucky day !
Pile 6 : Striped T Shirts in all colors. Love these. Buy them every time I sneeze. When I had my 11th, I read that horizontal stripes make you look fatter. Wottodo? Can’t wear my T Shirts at right angles, can I? Too late now. Keep all. Look at the positive - Would fit straight into a jail-break movie/ mental asylum flick (no reader comments accepted on this !)
Pile 7 : Lots of hairbands, caps, socks, (these are called Accessories by fashion mags). They work to color-co-ordinate your look, apparently. Hmmm – like when I’m formally dressed in a black silk sari, nothing like a pair of orange socks with ‘hiya captain’ on them to colorize the co-ordination.
Pile 8 : All other clothes – salwars, trousers, skirts – no more time left to waste, and no more shelves left, so just push them all into the one remaining shelf space, squeezed in between the books, which I have labelled as ‘Unstriped clothes’. (After all, books too qualify as unstriped clothes).
There ! Wardrobe Organized !
Learning (for you this time) : Now all of you who ask why I keep wearing the same red striped T Shirt in all my recent facebook pix, KNOW !
Thursday, January 14, 2010
The Perfect Ad
Early in my advertising career, some Ad Big Wig came n gave us a few smart sassy snippets of slurp-up advice, that we, on command, slurped up.
What sells most in ads, said he : Sex, Kids, Dogs
Eager to attain immediate Big Wigdom, I immediately thought up scenarios combining all 3 for my next ad film. But they were all a li’l revolting – in any permutation together – especially since the product to be advertised was a stress-relief tablet.
But I finally crunched all together in a brilliant script - with a cute baby n her sexy mom, playing with a cute puppy.
Ad film Shoot day : The models were shortlisted, the young mom short-skirted, the baby was drool-worthily cute, all dimples and gurgles and giggles. The puppy cuddly.
The day of the shoot, cameras ready, lights set up, the baby wants to grab the camera. The crew, the client, the ad team all try to distract her. She starts to howl. No more giggles, just growls !
She is hungry, said her mom, so she was given Cerelac. She didn’t want it. She tried to chew on the light cable. Everyone got into the act again to stop her. She begins to howl again.
She is sleepy, says her mom. So the baby, the main star of my aborting ad filim goes to sleep. She sleeps all through the morning. We wake her after 4 hours, and she begins to howl. We give her a cable to chew on, and she smiles.
The Director starts shooting, and the baby starts howling.
She wants to go to the toilet, says her mom, so we spend most of the afternoon, changing diapers, and cleaning her up. The baby begins to howl. She has diaper rash, says the mom. She will be ready in a minute. Then the baby goes back to sleep for another 4 hours.
She wakes up at dusk, and the Director begins to howl. He’s lost the light. He can’t shoot. The baby starts to howl because the Director is howling. I have to shoot the rest of the film with another substitute baby without dimples – he is a 2 year old toddler. The stress relief tablet never explains how the curly haired dimpled girl baby turns later into a straight-haired bigger boy. The puppy never makes his film debut at all.
Learning : I never know whether my sexy mom-baby-puppy ad film actually sold the stress-relief tablet to the public. But the entire crew, ad team and client team and everyone else on the sets were popping up the stress-relief tablets. In between howling.
What sells most in ads, said he : Sex, Kids, Dogs
Eager to attain immediate Big Wigdom, I immediately thought up scenarios combining all 3 for my next ad film. But they were all a li’l revolting – in any permutation together – especially since the product to be advertised was a stress-relief tablet.
But I finally crunched all together in a brilliant script - with a cute baby n her sexy mom, playing with a cute puppy.
Ad film Shoot day : The models were shortlisted, the young mom short-skirted, the baby was drool-worthily cute, all dimples and gurgles and giggles. The puppy cuddly.
The day of the shoot, cameras ready, lights set up, the baby wants to grab the camera. The crew, the client, the ad team all try to distract her. She starts to howl. No more giggles, just growls !
She is hungry, said her mom, so she was given Cerelac. She didn’t want it. She tried to chew on the light cable. Everyone got into the act again to stop her. She begins to howl again.
She is sleepy, says her mom. So the baby, the main star of my aborting ad filim goes to sleep. She sleeps all through the morning. We wake her after 4 hours, and she begins to howl. We give her a cable to chew on, and she smiles.
The Director starts shooting, and the baby starts howling.
She wants to go to the toilet, says her mom, so we spend most of the afternoon, changing diapers, and cleaning her up. The baby begins to howl. She has diaper rash, says the mom. She will be ready in a minute. Then the baby goes back to sleep for another 4 hours.
She wakes up at dusk, and the Director begins to howl. He’s lost the light. He can’t shoot. The baby starts to howl because the Director is howling. I have to shoot the rest of the film with another substitute baby without dimples – he is a 2 year old toddler. The stress relief tablet never explains how the curly haired dimpled girl baby turns later into a straight-haired bigger boy. The puppy never makes his film debut at all.
Learning : I never know whether my sexy mom-baby-puppy ad film actually sold the stress-relief tablet to the public. But the entire crew, ad team and client team and everyone else on the sets were popping up the stress-relief tablets. In between howling.
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