Ribusgr8's Blog

oh. nothing much. Just this and that. Random.

generation X. No Y. Ah whatever.

with 3 comments

You,your=pre- generation X/Y. The baby boomers.
Us, we, our = well, us. 😛

I think back and I reckon that the first time I encountered the term ‘generation X’ was in a long-time-ago pepsi advertisement. The term was  being tossed around even before that but the pepsi ads were more in-your-face and hence is deeply ingrained in my sub-conscious. Generation X is a term broadly used to classify people born into the MTV era. People who were born just as Michael Jackson’s career began its meteoric rise into everlasting glory. I believe I am part of generation Y, being born in the very late 80’s. There is no real timeline (I think. Hmm. I should really google more before I start off with a post. Do some research :-/) distinctly separating the ‘X’ and ‘Y’ generation. Anyway. As to why talk ab0ut gen X or Y, read on.

I attended a Youth League session in church today after a fairly long layoff 😛 We had Mr. Manoj K Das, former resident editor of The New Indian Express, as guest speaker to commemorate the Kargil victory. He recounted his experience as a journalist covering the war scene, the lessons he took home, and how today’s youth should try to wean itself away from staying glued to internet, think deeply about issues plaguing our society and how connecting to a common national psyche is more relevant today than ever before. I second that. But he also mentioned something else, oft repeated by scores of people his age, that I cannot quite agree with. He said our generation is better off than they were. That we have have so much more today than they could dream of in their times.

Yeah? Think about it. We certainly make more money, yes. But that is more a by-product of our burgeoning economy and a trickling consequence of a global rise in the standard of living. We earn 20k a month when we start a job, while your generation, working mostly in government institutions began their career with what, 1k? Big deal. Compare petrol prices from 20-30 years ago and its price now. Why petrol, take RICE. 10 rupees could get you 10kg in the good old times of the Green Revolution. Now it’s 370 bucks for 10kg. Salary increased twenty-fold but the price of rice is now 37 TIMES what it was 20-30 years ago. Plus, we slog our asses off in private institutions unlike the laggardly pace with which you went about doing your jobs which, come to think of it, slowed our economic growth. So don’t give me the you-earn-more shit.  Now the older generation would argue, “We walked 5 km a day to attend school”. Uh huh. Okay we didn’t walk but tell me, how many books did your generation carry to school? Two? Three? Oh there was a heavy tiffin box wasn’t there? Guys and girls could walk to school with no inhibitions or feelings of insecurity in your times. Now there are sexual predators prowling around more than ever before; people who are mostly from YOUR GENERATION. You tell us stories about how you walked to school but are you really willing to let us do the same? We certainly do have more resources now than you did. Actually, too much of it. The information overload is too much for us to bear. Most interestingly, you say that you reached where you are from absolute nothingness. Don’t you realize that it was a good thing to start where you did, a place where you could fearlessly work towards achieving whatever goal YOU had set for YOURSELF, for you couldn’t possibly fall off from that level and hurt yourself. You could dust yourself up and just try again, harder. YOU had motivation. Combine that with some grey matter, a total lack of interference of the family in matters of your career and I would be surprised if you DID NOT end up successful. What is it that could possibly motivate us to do something when we are already well off and living decently? You just don’t like that do you. You turn hysterical, scared that your being successful has turned us into dumb idiots who only care for money, friends, TV and the internet. Hence the clamour to get us all enrolled for engineering or medicine (Surprisingly, it is the lower and upper middle class that has this obsession for the aforesaid professional courses. Extremely well off people don’t quite care what their children end up learning as they have their bank balances or their family business that the kids could turn to. As for the poor people, well it is a repeat of your generation’s story there). Lastly, we live in a world fraught with terrorism, degraded morality and lack of proper spiritual guidance. Your generation was lucky to grow with just the ’62  war with China, the emergency and the ’84 riots and no-NDTV or BBC. You were lucky to have parents who taught you how to live and let you make your decisions. So please, do NOT tell me our generation is better off than yours.

Written by ribusgr8

July 25, 2010 at 10:47 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

A handkerchief and a pot.

with 8 comments

“United States of America. The land of opportunities”. When my folks (read uncles,aunts, family friends et cetera) opine assertively, (the dirty)half of my mind smirks and wonders whether they are referring to  career-related opportunities alone or whether they are making allusive references to the “other” possibilities in the richest (as I type, China must have overtaken US in terms of affluence. Maybe they already did. I blame TCS for my lack of current-affairs-knowledge), most liberal nation on earth. I think half my MECian friends preparing for GRE are doing so just to get laid :P.Yes, USA has its advantages compared to India. Quality technical education, exposure to a variety of cultures (which actually means busty females from various races who has a minimal-attire trait in common) and so on. The Americans’ approach to foreigners, especially us brown-coloured,often-turbanized, often-bearded Indians  in the never-dwindling shadow of that catastrophe called 9/11 is a trifle perturbing, but after 2001 I guess they are justified in being paranoid. I hope they (they=Americans+those Indians who think they are more American than Indian) will not be aggrieved if I poke some fun at this paranoia.

Scene 1 : A busy day in south Miami. Miami looks exactly they way it looks in CSI:Miami albeit with lesser colour contrast and thankfully, no Horatio Cane. My roommate’s aunt had passed away during the weekend and both of us have come to attend her cremation. The saintly lady and her husband always used to  insist that I accompany my roommate during his once-a-month visit to her place and I used to comply gladly. The couple was childless and having us around gave them some relief. They were a Hindu family from UP and hence the body had to be cremated in the traditional manner, and the ashes were to be immersed in the Ganges. The ashes were to be taken to UP by a family friend who was to leave for India an hour or two after the cremation. After performing the last rites, the bereaved husband handed over the ashes to my roommate and I as we had volunteered to travel to the airport to meet the family friend. We hopped on my roommate/friend’s CBR600 (yes they are filthy rich) and started down the road that led to the expressway that would take us to the airport. I was holding the small brass pot containing the ashes in my right hand with the elbow resting on my right thigh, while my friend rode the bike. Anticipating the traffic and accompanying dust and smoke, I also tied a handkerchief around my nose for lack of another helmet. Two minutes from start and a policeman waved vigorously at us to stop.

Policeman: Get off the vehicle and hand over that pot to me immediately sir. (It’s lovely how they command you to do stuff and end it with a ‘sir’)

Friend: But why officer? We were not speeding. Here’s my license if you want to have a look at it.

Policeman: Sir, I repeat, get off the vehicle and hand over that pot to me immediately.

Me: What? Why?! What is wrong officer?

Policeman: Remove your mask and get off the vehicle NOW! (gun drawn)

Me: Gosh. Mask? It’s a handkerchief for fuck’s sake (grip on gun increases)..OK OK (removing handkerchief) It’s off,alright?

Policeman: Now hand over the pot to me and show me some ID.

Friend: Sir those are my aunt’s ashes. We are taking it to the airport where…

Policeman: TO THE AIRPORT??!! ON YOUR KNEES NOW! ARMS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM! (We do it more out of amusement than fear)

Friend: Officer, we are Indian citizens currently pursuing our M.S in Computer Science at Purdue university. We came to Miami to attend my aunt’s funeral. You can collect my ID from the wallet in my right pocket. I am a hindu. The pot contains my aunt’s ashes that has to be taken to India for other post-cremation rituals. I hope you understand.

Policeman: Then why in God’s name did your friend here have this cloth over his face? Is it part of this..ritual? (turning to me) What’s your name?

Me: Ribu.

Policeman: Isn’t that a muslim name? (wrinkled forehead)

Me: I don’t know about that but I am a christian.

Policeman:(cynically) Definitely sounds muslim. And you’re holding your hindu friend’s aunt’s ashes? Strange. I thought you were some goddamn jehadi with that masked face and the darn pot. Fuck. (checks our IDs). Ok. Everything seems in order. You may go.

Friend: (smiling profusely) Thank you officer.

Me: :-/

Now imagine the situation in India. No officer will wave at you asking you to stop because you have a handkerchief tied around your face and you are carrying a brass pot. Not wearing a helmet? 50 bucks should solve it. 3 people on a bike? 50 bucks. Forgot your license? Another 50. Papers not in order? 100 to 300 bucks. 🙂 Our policemen are completely devoid of a fear of terrorism which is heartening and worrying at the same time. Our nation is freakin’ awesome eh? :P. Jai ho 🙂

Written by ribusgr8

April 11, 2010 at 8:28 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

An imaginary loveletter.

with 10 comments

I have had this post in mind for a while now but VTV  has given me the necessary impetus to actually jot this thing down and post it. I just thought writing something like this would be good fun. The post is exactly what the title says: an IMAGINARY loveletter. So theppikkal teams, bugger off.

Let me begin by saying this. I do not love you. I haven’t even talked to you face-to-face and I  doubt whether you know that I exist. Then what’s the point of writing this letter, I mean who on earth writes letters in this age you ask. Good question. I have no freaking clue. This is not a prepared manuscript like they show in the movies, where the hero tears up page and page after which he finally comes up with the ‘perfect’ love letter which is usually filled with typical bullcrap that bores me. If you are the kind that prefers the melodramatic, stereotyped, karan johar-ish stuff (I so hope you don’t) I am sorry to disappoint you. But hey, some cornball stuff is bound to creep in unintentionally, what with all these years of exposure to bollywood masalas. 🙂

I have had a crush on you for a very long time. It is funny how a word that literally means ‘to break into many pieces’  is also used to convey the idea of infatuation. I have only seen you from afar, so I hope you don’t turn out to be taller than me :P. Not that I have a problem but it would be weird if you are. You must be thinking, “Ha, he is discussing my height when he doesn’t even know my name, age or religion. What a dumbass.” 🙂 I do know all those details. Contrary to what you might be thinking about me while reading this, I am a practical, sensible, level-headed dude who has set priorities and getting a girlfriend is definitely not one.

But when the occasional crush comes by, I pause and try to determine whether it is worth being pursued. It never was, until you happened. The first time I saw you, you were wearing a white salwar exuding serenity and poise. And, you sing well 🙂 I have seen you in your church and I like the way you are religious without being too vocal or expressive about it. I like the way you tie your hair so that it is easier for you to lift your dupatta over your head during service. I know we do not know each other and that I am being a gigantic moron doing what I am doing now. I do not know if you are going out with someone else, but you don’t seem to be the kind of girl who would be in a relationship. Ironically, that is another thing I like about you. I like you woman, but I am not asking you out. All I intend to ask you is can we be good friends for a start?

P.S- I don’t love you. Not yet.

Written by ribusgr8

April 4, 2010 at 4:50 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

TCS and beyond.

with 5 comments

No. I am not going to explain what goes on at TCS during training and my opinions on it. At least, nothing that could jeopardize my already-shaky tenure at the largest IT firm in India. This is just a jot-down of random stuff that happened during my time in and outside the training facility.

Trivandrum (Thiruvananthapuram is so inconvenient. Kudos to the British for their ingenuity in modifying Indian city names and cool-ifying them in the process) is not quite the best place to spend a weekend.  I head home early morning on Saturday and return to Trivandrum Monday morning, both by train. Travel gives you the opportunity to talk to people irrespective of how high/low up they are in society.  On my way home today, I advised this very respectable gentleman holding his 2-3 year old daughter not to stand too close to the coach-door as those doors have a tendency to close themselves when the brakes are applied. For all I know, this chap could be the revenue secretary or a district collector. You can’t go to the district collector’s office and advice him on how to solve Kochi’s garbage disposal issue, can you?

Travel by train sometimes springs pleasant surprises. Last Monday, I was travelling to Trivandrum on a very crowded Intercity express along with Bijo and Arjun. Bijo and I began discussing about his impending MBA interview and other related topics. We were oblivious to the fact there was an elderly, bespectacled man wearing a very ordinary nylon shirt and mundu listening in on our conversation sitting opposite to us. He could easily have passed off as  a retired clerk. Bijo starts talking about the MBA offered by ICFAI for some reason and I say IBS in Kochi is actually ICFAI Business School (As to how I got that idea, I have no clue whatsoever). “No, no. ICFAI and IBS are different. And there is an ISB in hyderabad”. Both of us look bewildered at the crisp english being doled out by this seemingly ordinary man. The young chap who was sitting right next to this old man was surprised too. It turned out that this man had retired as a faculty member in the HR department at IIM-K. The young chap sitting next to him turned out to be an MBA working in UST. What ensued was a very memorable conversation that lasted the rest of the journey with the UST-dude explaining why work experience is important and the elderly man nodding his agreement to various points. He also explained what life was like at IIM-K, the tensions he experienced when APJ Abdul Kalam visited the campus,while the 3 of us, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, listened. First impression is so NOT the best impression.

We had social and business etiquette sessions during training. What to/not to wear, how to shake hands, how to dine, how to talk over the phone etc :-/. Neckties are compulsory during the entire training period. I find this aping of western culture absolutely ridiculous. I ask my faculty during one such grooming session why we needed ties. She replies that we have international clients and we need to be at par with them and that it also provides uniformity. Also, a tie, however uncomfortable, is an integral part of global corporate work culture. I scratch my head. Global corporate work culture is predominantly western and the dress code they follow suits THEIR climate, not ours. If it was a case of providing uniformity, trousers and a full-sleeved shirt alone would suffice. Also, there are western companies that have Indian clients. I do not see THEM wear a dhoti or eat with their hands instead of forks and knives. Or do they? Apparently, neckties should be worn at a length that does not cross your belt’s buckle. Now there, I see more common sense than mimicking “corporate culture”. Wear them any longer and you’d probably pee on the tie when you use the loo :P.

If you ask me whether I like working at TCS, I’d say no. That would be my answer irrespective of the IT company i work in, mind you (except maybe a google or a yahoo :)).
As for why I don’t like it, I don’t have a definite answer. It’s like asking me why I don’t like brinjals (No, I don’t like brinjals). Working in an IT company is not my thing. What my thing is, I am still trying to figure out :).

Written by ribusgr8

February 20, 2010 at 6:14 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

A sunday.

with 5 comments

NOTE:  I do have my problems with God, but I am no atheist. Nor am I agnostic. This is a short work of fiction. The opposing views expressed here between characters are in fact views and counter-views used in debates with myself. Ideas to express and justify some of these views have been borrowed. If anyone finds this entry blasphemous, I apologize.

Morning. 7 A.M. I am still in bed in the alpha state (so termed by Jose Silva); not yet conscious but fully aware. I am waiting for that last and final wake up call from mom (which, usually, is the 4th or 5th. Mildly violent with yelling and sheet-pulling and all that. And yes, I do count them. Heightened sense of awareness. It’s called unagi :P) . It comes, I finally wake up, groggily find my way to wherever I imagine my toothbrush might be, and head to the bathroom.  A good 10 minutes later, armed with a cup of cold tea from an hour ago and the day’s Hindu, I make my way to the living room for a soon-to-be-disturbed session of tea-drinking and news-reading.

Mom: Aren’t you going to start getting ready yet? I woke you up 20 minutes ago.

Me: No. You woke me up 12 minutes ago. And the tea is cold. :-/

Mom: It was hot at 6 when I first asked you to wake up. The next time I will pour some on your face while it is still hot. Will do?

Me: That would scald me and probably leave a permanent mark. Hmm. Can you do it quite carefully on the forehead in this pattern? (draw sign for thunder on palm)

Mom: I could try making an L smack in the middle of your forehead. Enough said. Get ready. Service starts at 8.

Me: I don’t see the point of going to church.

Mom: Ok. Now that’s new. Why so?

Me: It is more a social gathering than anything else. It also saddens me to see people nodding off during sermons, however unbelievably boring they might be.

Mom: First of all, it is not just a social gathering. You are there for collective prayer and reminisce about what Christ endured to compensate for our sins. And you should rather be correcting your own faults than keenly observe what others are doing wrong.

Me: Why waste petrol, contribute to global warming, grumble about the reckless bus drivers and ogle at the pretty chicks to reach church and do something that I can clearly do right at home and that too without those sins I just mentioned :P. (Btw, I think the Vatican declaring waste of non-renewable sources of energy and contribution to global warming as sins would help achieve much more than a Copenhagen)

Mom: I mentioned collective prayer. People praying together for a cause is always better. If you feel so much for our depleting resources and ozone layer, you can walk to church. But you still have to attend church. As for girls. Hmm. It’s a miracle that we reach church safely with you driving.

Me: Aunties come with their grown up daughters so that other aunties take notice and they get a decent alliance.

Mom: Ok now I am officially irritated. Are you getting ready or do you want me to have the discredit of being a woman who takes her grown up son to church with her palm imprints on his cheek?

Me: God is kinda inactive nowadays don’t you think? He used to do so much back in the old testament days. Part the raging red sea during the exodus, rain manna, talk to prophets. He also used to do all the planning. But this day and age, nothing.

Mom: Huh.

Me: There so much death happening all around the world more than ever now. Why is He not doing anything about it? Okay, the two world wars were a result of our own actions and we are responsible for it. I won’t blame Him there. But He could have stopped the tsunami. We aren’t responsible for natural disasters are we. We sing hymns that say He can control the wind and waves. Then why didn’t He? Lakhs of people perished there. Innocent kids included. Was it punishment for our sins? Why the innocent people then?

Mom: Okay relax. God has a plan. Also, there were many people who were saved too.

Me: What plan is worth sacrificing the lives of more than 4 lakh humans? And about the people who were saved, are you saying God is partial? Pardon the language, but that is not very God-like behaviour.

Mom: I repeat, God has a plan. We as humans have limited perception of things. We simply cannot comprehend the scale of His plan. Alright? As for why some people were saved and why some weren’t, I don’t have an irrefutable answer to that. Maybe my faith is not strong enough to come up with an answer that could convince you right away.
I believe God is there in you if you have a good conscience. You see an old woman trying to cross a road and you want to help or in the very least, hope that she crosses safely, you have a good conscience. You have God in you then.

Me: Hmm. Fair enough. An “I don’t know” IS sometimes the best possible answer to a question after all. Let me go get ready. Hope we don’t miss the sermon. I like two things in church. Scanning the church for people who are sleeping during the sermon. And i suppose, the choir.

Mom: Yeah whatever. Get dressed.

Me: Huh. Indifference? Our church has been plagued by this for generations.

Mom: @!#!@#$#$#@$

Me: Okay, okay. I am going. Gosh.

Written by ribusgr8

January 17, 2010 at 9:38 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

observing.

with 9 comments

I am a huge fan of Christopher Nolan.  He has scripted and directed absolutely brilliant movies. Being his fan is also, safe; someone who knows you are a fan asks you whether you have seen all Nolan movies and you could proudly proclaim “Yes!” because he hasn’t made many :P(6 in total). Until 2 days ago, I had seen 4 movies of his: Memento, The Dark Knight, The Prestige, and Batman Begins. That left me with Insomnia and Following. Jobless that I am, I decided to embark on the not-so-difficult mission of watching the two Nolan movies I had left and deem myself worthy to be called the ultimate Nolan fan (Silly, yes. :-/). I downloaded Following first, what with it being his directorial debut for a full length movie leaving Insomnia for later. Frankly, I did not watch more than 20 minutes of it. It had more to do with the fact that i watched it at 12AM than the fact that it was in black and white. So, for the benefit of my deprived-of-grey-matter friends, let me make it clear that this is NOT a movie review :P.

What I find fascinating about the movie and want to discuss here is its theme. The protagonist follows people around to get to know them and make characters based on those people for his book. Okay, we don’t follow others, but one thing most of us do sometime or the other is observe; I do. Riding your bike to the city is tiring and justifiably suicidal. I prefer the slow yet comfortable (comfy only if you get seats though) private buses for city conveyance most of the time. I used to like ipod-ing to pass time while traveling, but its futility when up against the city noise led to its gradual phasing-out. What I am driving at is that the one thing you CAN do in a slow moving bus is observe the people traveling with you, albeit by following a few simple rules. Do not stare at beautiful chicks for over 30 seconds; more than that and chances are they will catch you staring at them and you’ll be embarrassed. Evolution has given them those nerves that are sensitive to ogler’s eyes like our skin is to sulphuric acid. Do not disturb the state of things with your involvement, say through your striking up conversations with  fellow passengers. You are the observer and critic of the act, not part of it. Keep these things in mind and you are good to go. 🙂

We Indians tend to be more emotional(read ‘louder’  :P) and possess greater ethnic diversity when compared to our western counterparts and hence observing Indians is definitely more interesting (It justifies the protagonist’s following other people by the way. He is in Britain and mere observation of people would be bland. People are either caucasian or black and tend to be reserved in public. All he can really see if he observes, are people walking briskly with their flapping black/brown coats. No animated conversations, no chaos. A lack of flavor or spice) Our cellphone conversations are ridiculously loud (this applies mostly for men). Women on the other hand, though not as loud, spend way more time on their cellphones outside their homes than men do. Travel for 1 km in M.G road and  you will find at least 10 handbag-carrying women walking and talking into their cellphones but not as many men(Where else do you think the spark for Idea’s walk and talk ad series came from). 17-20 year old guys in Kochi seem to have this new found uniformity among themselves when it comes to dress code; everyone seems to be wearing tight shirts/collarless t-shirts with ridiculously low-waist jeans and glaring,hideous sneakers (that sometimes match their t-shirts. Ugh. I saw this green t shirt dude with green sneakers some days ago) and of course, a goatee.  Even more farcical is the obsession for sunglasses that has infiltrated the fashion sentiments of Kochiites. Why is it funny, you ask. It would be if you saw guys in buses with their sunglasses on. Why on earth would you wear them while you are IN a bus? An absurd way to prevent chicks from finding out that they are being stared at? Coming to ethnic diversity, you would find migrant workers with their frantic conversations in tamil, hindi or oriya traveling with you. I personally don’t like the oriya guys for their passion for sunflower oil (Yuck. They use it as hair oil, in food etc. Practically everywhere. Its smell makes me nauseous). Then there is the occasional guy who hands in a 500 rupee note for the cheapest ticket. You can also find tourists (:D ah!) who seem surprisingly confident about where they are going.

Travel by private bus is fun if you want it to be. Maybe I should try making a silent short movie based on it. Call it “Observing” or something :P.

Written by ribusgr8

January 11, 2010 at 10:41 am

Posted in Uncategorized

Love. Humph.

with 18 comments

Love. The most cliched of all human emotions.  (I would say the word ‘love’  is a convenient generalization of a myriad of emotions really, but what the heck. That track of thought is irrelevant to what I intend to convey through this post). The most saleable emotion ever, it has helped generate a huge chunk of the billions of dollars the movie industry has raked in over decades. Fear, I guess, would come in at a not-so-close second. Love also has indirect effects on the capitalist, consumer-centric economy of the 21st century; people buying products to satisfy their loved ones, getting themselves insured so that if something happens to them their loved ones still live comfortably, et cetera. Hence it wouldn’t be far from the truth if one said love is the most exploited emotion too.

It happens early. Rewind back to LKG or pre-school. The cute skirt-wearing thing with the  upright coconut-tree-shaped tuft of hair catches your fancy (yea. ponytails were not so IN for 3 year old’s in my time. Or it could be parents trying to embellish their daughter with a symbol of local patriotism :P). Your parents smile when you describe your best friend. They think it is cute. They purposefully overlook those fleeting images of probable skirmishes with their grown-up son, possibly over this very female. The modern parent would simply be relieved to know that their son is straight. Fast forward to post-puberty. You have a modest number of crushes and you presumably end up not asking anyone out at all because your morality cripples you. Out of school into college, and you are bordering legally marriageable age. Armed with that knowledge and the influx of a number of corny movies into your cerebrum combined with a total lack of interest in academics inevitably leads you to asking a girl out.

So that is the regular story of the regular urban Indian dude. Funnily, he never once thinks about the possible outcomes of his love story. Okay, he asks her out. Things are going well. What next? I can bet that half the 20 year old buggers who are in a relationship with ‘the love of their life’ do not know what the procedure is to get a marriage registered(of course, regular viewers of mallu movies would know about 25% of the whole exercise :P). Hell, they probably wouldn’t know what the procedure is to get a new water connection or where to pay property taxes. They wouldn’t know how much income tax their dads pay. If asked, they would probably expand MCA as Master of Chartered Accountancy. Now guys will argue, “So what?! We have a right to experience the world. A right to know what it is to deal with emotions and  relationships”. Okay. Experience the world all you want. But responsibly. Get married to your long time girlfriend and your first fight would be just before your honeymoon when your car tire gets punctured on your way to Ooty and you do not know how to replace it with the spare. How does that sound? 😛 As for me, I do not mind admitting that except for the MCA thingy(duh!), I do not know any of the stuff I mentioned earlier. But hey, I am not in a relationship. I can criticize all I want. Those dimwits who are recalling their LKG-learnt fox and the grapes fable can simply sod off. Love. Humph.

Written by ribusgr8

December 23, 2009 at 11:01 pm

Posted in Uncategorized