<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575</id><updated>2012-02-07T06:10:56.008-08:00</updated><category term='tip'/><title type='text'>Get over it !</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>29</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-675946974000797863</id><published>2010-10-11T09:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T09:44:36.637-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hours</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; "&gt;To look life in the face. Always to look life in the face and to know it for what it is. At last to know it. To love it for what it is, and then, to put it away. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; "&gt;--Virginia Woolf&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-675946974000797863?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/675946974000797863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=675946974000797863' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/675946974000797863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/675946974000797863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2010/10/hours.html' title='The Hours'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-5490603299299869163</id><published>2010-10-02T11:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T11:19:46.011-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thought</title><content type='html'>But baby,you're the right kind of wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- LeAnn Rimes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-5490603299299869163?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/5490603299299869163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=5490603299299869163' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/5490603299299869163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/5490603299299869163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2010/10/thought.html' title='Thought'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-4329474547673931318</id><published>2010-09-09T23:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-09T23:10:07.696-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tip'/><title type='text'>A Psychological Tip</title><content type='html'>Whenever you're called on to make up your mind,&lt;br /&gt;and you're hampered by not having any,&lt;br /&gt;the best way to solve the dilemma, you'll find,&lt;br /&gt;is simply by spinning a penny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No - not so that chance shall decide the affair&lt;br /&gt;while you're passively standing there moping;&lt;br /&gt;but the moment the penny is up in the air,&lt;br /&gt;you suddenly know what you're hoping&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Piet Hein&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-4329474547673931318?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/4329474547673931318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=4329474547673931318' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/4329474547673931318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/4329474547673931318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2010/09/psychological-tip.html' title='A Psychological Tip'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-2848664407018039533</id><published>2010-05-15T08:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-15T08:44:03.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Apart</title><content type='html'>It took me a few years and some months to discover that love is real,that it is not just something we read in novels or watch in the movies.It is a fact and it is right there standing in front of you.I also figured that love is not always sweet and joyful,your days are not always brighter and your dreams are not always,well dreams.Love is not about those phony kissing-in-the-rain moments either.You experience love not so much when it makes you happy.You experience the real thing when you are in pain,not because there is something wrong with your life but because something is wrong with the object of your love.It is automatic,you cannot control it no matter how hard you try.It is a true test and there is something amazingly beautiful about feeling someone else's pain inside of you.Love is real.It will follow you everywhere you go.Trust me on that.I can hear it right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-2848664407018039533?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/2848664407018039533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=2848664407018039533' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/2848664407018039533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/2848664407018039533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2010/05/apart.html' title='Apart'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-6320601692198134044</id><published>2008-03-27T01:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T01:51:58.711-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My favourite addiction</title><content type='html'>She is complicated and amazing, she can  turn me upside down, but to find the person who completes me is the best sensation that i can ever feel. It is like an encounter with my own.We have our differences but we know that we need not think alike to love alike. Of course, the intensity of it all scares me sometimes ,it makes me think my life all  over again; and i find out, at the end, that i was nothing before knowing this love,and i am nothing after it.Its like i am warped in this unbelievable moment that is my today.And i  am murdered if i don't have, even if it is for one single day, my special soul by my side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Anniversary to us! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-6320601692198134044?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/6320601692198134044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=6320601692198134044' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/6320601692198134044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/6320601692198134044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-favourite-addiction.html' title='My favourite addiction'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-3460246666936356057</id><published>2007-05-30T11:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-30T12:48:00.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Engineer'ed'</title><content type='html'>You’re reading the final words I’ll ever write as an engineering student. It feels  really weird that I can’t stick around college anymore and  hobble throughout the campus -- it’s the bottom of the ninth for me, and I guess I need to say goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;Feels like last week my parents drove me to this town for the first time. It rained and I remember meeting a certain tall chap who'd be the best roommate I'll ever have.This place has been my heaven and hell alike for eight straight semesters, so moving on will be pretty weird.&lt;br /&gt;I want to write about everything i ever did in college but i don't think words so beautiful have been invented yet to do justice to the magical time I've had here. &lt;br /&gt;This  little  piece by Vitamin C conveys  everything i have in mind, almost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt; And so we talked all night about the rest of our lives&lt;br /&gt;Where we're gonna be when we turn 25&lt;br /&gt;I keep thinking times will never change&lt;br /&gt;Keep on thinking things will always be the same&lt;br /&gt;But when we leave this year we won't be coming back&lt;br /&gt;No more hanging out cause we're on a different track&lt;br /&gt;And if you got something that you need to say&lt;br /&gt;You better say it right now cause you don't have another day&lt;br /&gt;Cause we're moving on and we can't slow down&lt;br /&gt;These memories are playing like a film without sound&lt;br /&gt;Laughing at ourselves thinking life's not fair&lt;br /&gt;And this is how it feels&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we go on&lt;br /&gt;We remember&lt;br /&gt;All the times we&lt;br /&gt;Had together&lt;br /&gt;And as our lives change&lt;br /&gt;Come Whatever&lt;br /&gt;We will still be&lt;br /&gt;Friends Forever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if we get the big jobs&lt;br /&gt;And we make the big money&lt;br /&gt;When we look back now&lt;br /&gt;Will our jokes still be funny?&lt;br /&gt;Will we still remember everything we learned in school?&lt;br /&gt;Still be trying to break every single rule&lt;br /&gt;Will little brainy Bobby be the stockbroker man?&lt;br /&gt;Can Heather find a job that won't interfere with her tan?&lt;br /&gt;I keep, I keep thinking that it's not goodbye&lt;br /&gt;Keep on thinking it's a time to fly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will we think about tomorrow like we think about now?&lt;br /&gt;Can we survive it out there?&lt;br /&gt;Can we make it somehow?&lt;br /&gt;I guess I thought that this would never end&lt;br /&gt;And suddenly it's like we're women and men&lt;br /&gt;Will the past be a shadow that will follow us 'round?&lt;br /&gt;Will these memories fade when I leave this town&lt;br /&gt;I keep, I keep thinking that it's not goodbye&lt;br /&gt;Keep on thinking it's a time to fly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-3460246666936356057?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/3460246666936356057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=3460246666936356057' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/3460246666936356057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/3460246666936356057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2007/05/youre-reading-final-words-ill-ever.html' title='Engineer&apos;ed&apos;'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-6676145883959148057</id><published>2007-05-22T10:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-22T10:37:20.357-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Leonard Cohen</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__q8TVJada0c/RlMqCrIBhaI/AAAAAAAAAAo/GwuHQfw9mLU/s1600-h/380px-BeautifulLosers-cover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__q8TVJada0c/RlMqCrIBhaI/AAAAAAAAAAo/GwuHQfw9mLU/s320/380px-BeautifulLosers-cover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5067440231146423714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I first heard Leonard Cohen in 'New skin for the old ceremony'(i hope i got the album right),i think it was a song called 'Why don't you try' and i figured its time i read Cohen.First attempt at his most successful novel "Beautiful Losers".Will get a copy as soon as i am done with the god damned exams.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-6676145883959148057?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/6676145883959148057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=6676145883959148057' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/6676145883959148057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/6676145883959148057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2007/05/leonard-cohen.html' title='Leonard Cohen'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__q8TVJada0c/RlMqCrIBhaI/AAAAAAAAAAo/GwuHQfw9mLU/s72-c/380px-BeautifulLosers-cover.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-7013554215132456150</id><published>2007-04-11T12:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-11T13:16:21.377-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Listen</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/d/d6/Dani_california.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/d/d6/Dani_california.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always liked RHCP, for in my opinion  they are one of the most creative and original bands ever.Loved their latest album,&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stadium_Arcadium"&gt;Stadium Arcadium&lt;/a&gt; too,especially the following tracks :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1)Dani California&lt;br /&gt;2)Slow Cheetah&lt;br /&gt;3)Stadium Arcadium&lt;br /&gt;4)Snow(Hey Oh)&lt;br /&gt;5)Animal Bar&lt;br /&gt;6)Desecration Smile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-7013554215132456150?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/7013554215132456150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=7013554215132456150' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/7013554215132456150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/7013554215132456150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2007/04/listen.html' title='Listen'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-1171023838441456109</id><published>2007-03-29T10:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-29T10:27:56.162-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Feels like Love...</title><content type='html'>As a kid,he thought to fall in love you're supposed to get shot with an arrow or something, but the rest of it isn't supposed to be painful at all.Now at 21,he knows for sure that love is the  the most exhilarating of all human emotions, and  is probably nature’s beautiful way of keeping the human species alive and reproducing. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is pretty damn good at understanding people and situations but you know when you are love "struck" you seem to lose all your superpowers.He is a "new" and a "better" person now.There are a million things running in his mind.He is thinking deeply about everything.He starts wondering for how long will things be the same.When she lays in his arms he hopes that she is wishing for him to be hers forever.He wants to be loved.And when he says he misses her,he wants her to know that no one in the world can miss her more than him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(On a 'more' personal note)He just found out an explanation for why lovers can afford to waste food on a date;cos its only the "lovers" who will just be staring at each other the whole time while their food gets cold...  Its actually the "Other" people who care &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;more about the food&lt;/span&gt;. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now all that he wants is to grow old fast so that he doesn't have to work anymore, and he can spend all his time loving her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-1171023838441456109?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/1171023838441456109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=1171023838441456109' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/1171023838441456109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/1171023838441456109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2007/03/feels-like-love.html' title='Feels like Love...'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-6563247989159514759</id><published>2007-01-16T11:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-16T11:41:28.620-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Before Sunrise...</title><content type='html'>Awesome Movie.I am in love with Julie Delpy and i am hung up on "A waltz for a night" :p.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me sing you a waltz&lt;br /&gt;Out of nowhere, out of my thoughts&lt;br /&gt;Let me sing you a waltz&lt;br /&gt;About this one night stand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were for me that night&lt;br /&gt;Everything I always dreamt of in life&lt;br /&gt;But now you're gone&lt;br /&gt;You are far gone&lt;br /&gt;All the way to your island of rain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was for you just a one night thing&lt;br /&gt;But you were much more to me&lt;br /&gt;Just so you know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear rumors about you&lt;br /&gt;About all the bad things you do&lt;br /&gt;But when we were together alone&lt;br /&gt;You didn't seem like a player at all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't care what they say&lt;br /&gt;I know what you meant for me that day&lt;br /&gt;I just wanted another try&lt;br /&gt;I just wanted another night&lt;br /&gt;Even if it doesn't seem quite right&lt;br /&gt;You meant for me much more&lt;br /&gt;Than anyone I've met before&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One single night with you little Jesse&lt;br /&gt;Is worth a thousand with anybody&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no bitterness, my sweet&lt;br /&gt;I'll never forget this one night thing&lt;br /&gt;Even tomorrow, another arms&lt;br /&gt;My heart will stay yours until I die&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me sing you a waltz&lt;br /&gt;Out of nowhere, out of my blues&lt;br /&gt;Let me sing you a waltz&lt;br /&gt;About this lovely one night stand&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-6563247989159514759?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/6563247989159514759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=6563247989159514759' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/6563247989159514759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/6563247989159514759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2007/01/before-sunrise.html' title='Before Sunrise...'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-2665079845635229653</id><published>2007-01-13T11:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-13T11:24:05.241-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stranger 'ed'</title><content type='html'>I have been wondering for sometime if it is possible for us  to fall in love with someone we don't know at all. We meet  so many people everyday and  i always think who knows, the person sitting next to you in a movie theater could be your soul mate.The instant before you meet them they are strangers to you and then  they become your best friends.You talk to people you've not spoken to for years and then you find all those similarities in taste,in food,in books and in movies that it amazes you.There are all kinds of people out there,some at the top,others at rock bottom,chasing goals,chasing deadlines,running from their fears,running towards hope and the only thing that separates them from us is "chance".May be,fate.But then again i don't believe in fate.We go through the daily humdrum,all alone, but any one of those people can walk into our life,any time and change it.Forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-2665079845635229653?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/2665079845635229653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=2665079845635229653' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/2665079845635229653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/2665079845635229653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2007/01/stranger-ed.html' title='Stranger &apos;ed&apos;'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-4531568372846258303</id><published>2007-01-04T00:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-04T00:35:20.864-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Polaris Software</title><content type='html'>Yehooooooooo!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;The stock's on a roll and man i am loving it!!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-4531568372846258303?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/4531568372846258303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=4531568372846258303' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/4531568372846258303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/4531568372846258303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2007/01/polaris-software.html' title='Polaris Software'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-367132581503215430</id><published>2007-01-01T09:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-01T09:35:29.500-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tech Gyan</title><content type='html'>Caveat: Here's something that Fundamental analysts might not like but Technical analysts probably live by.But all in all, we are all bloody capitalists,aren't we?? ;) We are here to make money and we all know it all too wel that markets are no place to make it.More people actually end up losing cash here than the few 'smart' or may be skilled souls who make some.So don't mess with the markets.Follow the bloody trend and the moment you start losing,get the hell out.&lt;br /&gt;Consider John W. Henry's wisdom:&lt;br /&gt;There is no Holy Grail. There is no perfect way to capture [the] move from $100/ounce to $800/ounce in gold...We cannot be profitable every month; we don’t try; we’re not that smart...but we feel that we can rely upon a philosophy that has worked very well over the last 17 years, and only pay attention to what the markets are saying currently, and don’t ask why the dollar is going up or why interest rates are going down. Our philosophy is that if something is going down, we want to be short. Period.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-367132581503215430?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/367132581503215430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=367132581503215430' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/367132581503215430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/367132581503215430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2007/01/caveat-heres-something-that-fundamental.html' title='Tech Gyan'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-6781893878178322221</id><published>2006-12-28T05:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-28T05:52:15.207-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stock</title><content type='html'>Stocks on my Radar:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1)Mohit Industries(Medium  to Long term textile play)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2)Canfin Homes (Good Fundamentals,Trading below its book value)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3)Panama Petrochemicals (courtesy Ashis/Rakesh Jhunjhunwala ;))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4)Polaris Software(Technical Play)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-6781893878178322221?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/6781893878178322221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=6781893878178322221' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/6781893878178322221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/6781893878178322221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2006/12/stock.html' title='Stock'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-3405849194084245206</id><published>2006-12-26T12:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-26T12:30:46.935-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thought</title><content type='html'>I wanna know whats it like on the inside of love..:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-3405849194084245206?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/3405849194084245206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=3405849194084245206' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/3405849194084245206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/3405849194084245206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2006/12/blog-post_26.html' title='Thought'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-919782200259137067</id><published>2006-12-23T12:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-23T12:26:51.174-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crap</title><content type='html'>Sometimes i feel like writing shit.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes we all do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-919782200259137067?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/919782200259137067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=919782200259137067' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/919782200259137067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/919782200259137067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2006/12/crap.html' title='Crap'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-4378300963799673877</id><published>2006-12-17T11:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-17T12:04:51.835-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hangover Too</title><content type='html'>He saw her standing in the light waiting in line to buy a ticket for the movies.Like him, she too was a victim of the dark.She took a hard look at him and without a word she hopped into his Porsche.He put his hand on the wheel and sped like he was high on the road.He then opened his mouth to say something but before he could she told him that he was the perfect stranger to her and she'd like it to remain so.She looked really pretty that night.She looked like a lit up city, like the one he'd climb up a hill to see when he was a kid.She took out a golden ring, put it in his pocket and told him to never forget her.He then got a kiss.Then in the darkness of that night he watched her walk away forever.He could have easily caught up with her but something  made him stay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-4378300963799673877?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/4378300963799673877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=4378300963799673877' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/4378300963799673877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/4378300963799673877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2006/12/blog-post.html' title='Hangover Too'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-5641030718550643743</id><published>2006-12-15T00:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-15T01:17:04.313-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bookmark</title><content type='html'>I just discovered that I've been reading a lot of late.I thought i was  always the guy who'd read one,at most two  books at a time but  guess what I've been reading  like eight or nine of them at the same time  since the past one month.&lt;br /&gt;Here's my list..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1)The intelligent  investor by Benjamin Graham aka  The God (although this is my second read now)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2)Managing Teams by Robert Heller(the guy who wrote 'Naked Manager')&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3)One up on wall street by Peter Lynch (the famed Fidelity Magellan fund manager,second read)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4)The story of Philosophy by Will Durant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5)An Economics book i bought in an old book shop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6)Buying and selling volatility by Kevin Conolly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7)Market wizards by Jack Schwager&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8)The NCFM Capital markets course ware&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On top of this my Sem exams coming up in like ten days so I've to read a lot of C#,Java,Distributed OSes and what not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd promised A that i'd read  'Maximum City' but   i still haven't.Sorry about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gotta buy more bookmarks..:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-5641030718550643743?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/5641030718550643743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=5641030718550643743' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/5641030718550643743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/5641030718550643743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2006/12/bookmark.html' title='Bookmark'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-9110286483364713793</id><published>2006-12-07T11:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-07T12:14:51.527-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A toast...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__q8TVJada0c/RXhzghwNFiI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_POVLZYufqM/s1600-h/86-rules-color.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__q8TVJada0c/RXhzghwNFiI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_POVLZYufqM/s320/86-rules-color.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5005877988475868706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;1. If you owe someone money, always pay them back in a bar. Preferably during happy hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Always toast before doing a shot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Whoever buys the shot gets the first chance to offer a toast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Change your toast at least once a month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Buying someone a drink is five times better than a handshake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Buying a strange woman a drink is still cool. Buying all her drinks is dumb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Never borrow more than one cigarette from the same person in one night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. When the bartender is slammed, resist the powerful urge to order a slightly-dirty, very-dry, in-and-out, super-chilled half-and-half martini with a lemon twist. Limit orders to beer, straight shots and two-part cocktails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Get the bartender's attention with eye contact and a smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Do not make eye contact with the bartender if you do not want a drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Unacceptable things to say after doing a shot: Great, now I’m going to get drunk. I hate shots. It’s coming back up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Never, ever tell a bartender he made your drink too strong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. If he makes it too weak, order a double next time. He'll get the message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. If you offer to buy a woman a drink and she refuses, she does not like you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. If you offer to buy a woman a drink and she accepts, she still might not like you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. If she buys you a drink, she likes you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. If someone offers to buy you a drink, do not upgrade your liquor preference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. Always have a corkscrew in your house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. If you don't have a corkscrew, push the cork down into the bottle with a pen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Drink one girly drink in public and you will forever be known as the guy who drinks girly drinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Our parents were better drinkers than we are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Never talk to someone in the restroom unless you're doing the same thing—urinating, waiting in line or washing your hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. Girls hang out, apply make-up, and have long talks in the bathroom. Men do not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. After your sixth drink, do not look at yourself in the mirror. It will shake your confidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. It is only permissible to shout 'woo-hoo!' if you are doing a shot with four or more people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. If there is a d.j., you can request a song only once per night. If he doesn't play it within half an hour, do not approach him again. If he does play it, do not approach him again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. Learn how to make a rose out of a bar napkin. You'll be surprised how well it works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. If you can't afford to tip, you can't afford to drink in a bar. Go to the liquor store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. If you owe someone twenty dollars or less, you may pay them back in beer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. Never complain about the quality or brand of a free drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. If you have been roommates with someone more than six months, you may drink all their beer, even if it's hidden, as long as you leave them one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. You can have a shot of their hard liquor only if the cap has been cracked and the bottle goes for less than $25.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. The only thing that tastes better than free liquor is stolen liquor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. If you bring Old Milwaukee to a party, you must drink at least two cans before you start drinking the imported beer in the fridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. Learn to appreciate hangovers. If it was all good times every jackass would be doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. If you ever feel depressed, get out a bartender’s guide and browse through all the drinks you’ve never tried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. Try one new drink each week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. If you are the bar's sole customer, you are obliged to make small talk with the bartender until he stops acknowledging you. Then you're off the hook. The same goes for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. Never tip with coins that have touched you. If your change is $1.50, you can tell the barmaid to keep the change, but once she has handed it to you, you cannot give it back. To a bartender or cocktail waitress, small change has no value.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. If you have ever told a bartender, “Hey, it all spends the same,” then you are a cheap ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41. Anyone on stage or behind a bar is fifty percent better looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42. You can tell how hard a drinker someone is by how close they keep their drink to their mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. A bar is a college, not a nursery. If you spill a beer, clean it up. If you break a glass, wait for a staff member to clean it up, then blame it on someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44. Being drunk is feeling sophisticated without being able to say it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45. It's okay to drink alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. After three drinks, you will forget a woman's name two seconds after she tells you. The rest of the night you will call her “baby” or “darling”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;47. Nothing screams 'nancy boy' louder than swirling an oversized brandy snifter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. Men don't drink from straws. Unless you're doing a Mind or Face Eraser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;49. If you do a shot, finish it. If you don't plan to finish it, don't accept it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. Never brood in a dance bar. Never dance in a dive bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;51. Never play more than three songs by the same artist in a row.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;52. Your songs will come on as you're leaving the bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;53. Never yell out jukebox selections to someone you don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;54. Never lie in a bar. You may, however, grossly exaggerate and lean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;55. If you think you might be slurring a little, then you are slurring a lot. If you think you are slurring a lot, then you are not speaking English.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;56. Screaming, “Someone buy me a drink!” has never worked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;57. For every drink, there is a five percent better chance you will get in a fight. There is also a three percent better chance you will lose the fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;58. Fighting an extremely drunk person when you are sober is hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;59. If you are broke and a friend is “sporting you”, you must laugh at all his jokes and play wingman when he makes his move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;60. If you are broke and a friend is “making sport of you”, you may steal any drink he leaves unattended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;61. Never rest your head on a table or bar top. It is the equivalent of voluntarily putting your head on a chopping block.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;62. If you are trading rounds with a friend and he asks if you're ready for another, always say yes. Once you fall out of sync you will end up buying more drinks than him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;63. If you're going to hit on a member of the bar staff, make sure you tip well before and after, regardless of her response.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;64. The people with the most money are rarely the best tippers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;65. Before you die, single-handedly make one decent martini.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;66. Asking a bartender what beers are on tap when the handles are right in front of you is the equivalent of saying, “I'm an idiot.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;67. Never ask a bartender “what's good tonight?” They do not fly in the scotch fresh from the coast every morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;68. If there is a line for drinks, get your goddamn drink and step the hell away from the bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;69. If there is ever any confusion, the fuller beer is yours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;70. The patrons at your local bar are your extended family, your fathers and mothers, your brothers and sisters. Except you get to sleep with these sisters. And if you're really drunk, the mothers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;71. It's acceptable, traditional in fact, to disappear during a night of hard drinking. You will appear mysterious and your friends will understand. If they even notice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;72. Never argue your tab at the end of the night. Remember, you're hammered and they’re sober. It's akin to a precocious five-year-old arguing the super-string theory with a physicist. 99.9% of the time you're wrong and either way you're going to come off as a jackass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;73. If you bring booze to a party, you must drink it or leave it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;74. If you hesitate more than three seconds after the bartender looks at you, you do not deserve a drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;75. Beer makes you mellow, champagne makes you silly, wine makes you dramatic, tequila makes you felonious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;76. The greatest thing a drunkard can do is buy a round of drinks for a packed bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;77. Never preface a conversation with a bartender with “I know this is going to be a hassle, but . . .”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;78. When you’re in a bar and drunk, your boss is just another guy begging for a fat lip. Unless he’s buying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;79. If you are 86’d, do not return for at least three months. To come back sooner makes it appear no other bar wants you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;80. Anyone with three or more drinks in his hands has the right of way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;81. If you’re going to drink on the job, drink vodka. It’s the no-tell liquor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;82. There’s nothing wrong with drinking before noon. Especially if you’re supposed to be at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;83. The bar clock moves twice as fast from midnight to last call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;84. A flask engraved with a personal message is one of the best gifts you can ever give. And make sure there’s something in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;85. On the intimacy scale, sharing a quiet drink is between a handshake and a kiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;86. You will forget every one of these rules by your fifth drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-The Modern Drunkard Magazine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Georgia,Times New Roman,Times,serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-9110286483364713793?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/9110286483364713793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=9110286483364713793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/9110286483364713793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/9110286483364713793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2006/12/toast.html' title='A toast...'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__q8TVJada0c/RXhzghwNFiI/AAAAAAAAAAY/_POVLZYufqM/s72-c/86-rules-color.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-116453582044713264</id><published>2006-11-26T02:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T02:10:20.463-08:00</updated><title type='text'>All that Jazz</title><content type='html'>All that work. All that glitter. All that pain. All that love. All that crazy rhythm. All that jazz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nice movie!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-116453582044713264?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/116453582044713264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=116453582044713264' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/116453582044713264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/116453582044713264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2006/11/all-that-jazz.html' title='All that Jazz'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-116195295034687344</id><published>2006-10-27T05:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-28T16:30:44.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Musics(!) and Mocks</title><content type='html'>I am  reading Richard Branson's autobiography, "Losing  My Virginity". Its an honest book and what i liked most is the fact that he says all things, good and/or bad about himself with a straight face.That is one quality i look for in a person i would want to respect, you don't never regret your actions.&lt;br /&gt;Well what i am getting at is this new music album i came across in the book.Its called &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;'Tubular Bells'&lt;/span&gt;(Progressive Rock) by Mike Oldfield. Its just so  sad that i could'nt lay my hands on this one before.Its just AWESOME.It was apparently this album that helped Virgin Music survive bankruptcy and bankrolled a number of small time artists signed on by Virgin in the 70s.The opening theme, used in The Exorcist, gained the record considerable publicity and is how most people have probably first heard the work.If you havent heard it already i think you should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other piece i am listening to nowadays is the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LOST soundtrack&lt;/span&gt;(S01). The whole collection is awesome.My personal fav is Wash Away by Joe Purdy.It features music composed by Michael Giacchino, whose score is primarily orchestral and incorporates several recurring themes for events and characters.In the official Lost Podcast, Michael Giacchino revealed that he achieved some of the sounds for the score using unusual instruments, such as striking suspended pieces of the plane's fuselage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apart from all the listening that i am doing i am writing a series of mock cats(the exam is on 19th Nov).Hope i do well and get an admit  to that 'decent' bschool i always talk about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-116195295034687344?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/116195295034687344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=116195295034687344' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/116195295034687344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/116195295034687344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2006/10/musics-and-mocks.html' title='Musics(!) and Mocks'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-116121061489523771</id><published>2006-10-18T14:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-20T12:25:40.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Update@4 am</title><content type='html'>If there is one thing i can't live without its caffeine.&lt;br /&gt;I read about this  petition by a group of women filed  back in 1674 that said "Coffee leads men to trifle away their time, scald their chops, and spend their money, all for a little base, black, thick, nasty, bitter, stinking nauseous puddle water." I am not sure if it was funny then but it definitely  is funny now. I think coffee is a religion,no wait, much more than that; and i believe coffee perhaps sometimes is stronger than our souls.What?!.Whatever.I don't really blame me(i never do!),its 4 0 clock in the morning and i havent slept in the last 36 hours.I  need some coffee.Well now that  i think about it i need a lot of other  things too,..a 'decent' b school admit(whatever 'decent' meant and whatever b school meant),loads and loads and loads and loads of capital to invest,a time machine,a date with $%*&amp;amp;@,a small fridge,a copy of rabbit,run and what else..one cant really be sane for too long if 'one' has'nt slept,right?&lt;br /&gt;One more thing i cant live without.My Slumber.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off i go...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-116121061489523771?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/116121061489523771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=116121061489523771' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/116121061489523771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/116121061489523771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2006/10/update4-am.html' title='Update@4 am'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-116094434951512898</id><published>2006-10-15T13:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-16T05:33:22.653-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am 'The things they carried'</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://bluepyramid.org/ia/tttcto.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Georgia,Georgia Ref,Book Antiqua,Garamond;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're &lt;i&gt;The Things They Carried&lt;/i&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by Tim O'Brien&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Harsh and bitter, you tell it like it is. This usually comes in short, dramatic spurts of spilling your guts in various ways. You carry a heavy load, and this has weighed you down with all the horrors that humanity has to offer. Having seen and done a great deal you walk forward,trudging slowly through ongoing mud. In the next life, you will come back as a waterbuffalo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Georgia,Georgia Ref,Book Antiqua,Garamond;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-116094434951512898?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/116094434951512898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=116094434951512898' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/116094434951512898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/116094434951512898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2006/10/i-am-things-they-carried.html' title='I am &apos;The things they carried&apos;'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-116041604163961052</id><published>2006-10-09T10:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T10:49:56.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Proposed</title><content type='html'>"I can’t do the talk like they talk on tv&lt;br /&gt;And I can’t do a love song like the way it’s meant to be&lt;br /&gt;I can’t do everything but I’d do anything for you&lt;br /&gt;I can’t do anything except be in love with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And all I do is miss you and the way we used to be&lt;br /&gt;All do is keep the beat and bad company&lt;br /&gt;All I do is kiss you through the bars of a rhyme&lt;br /&gt;Juliet I’d do the stars with you any time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Dire Straits&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-116041604163961052?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/116041604163961052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=116041604163961052' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/116041604163961052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/116041604163961052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2006/10/proposed.html' title='Proposed'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-115999812292507421</id><published>2006-10-04T14:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-04T14:52:44.710-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Discover</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;He was just a regular guy, but then again not quite. He liked sports, read Bergson, Croce &amp; Russell, drank vodka, and he never knew why. Life had been good to him for the most part. He’d always made his own decisions and more importantly he lived by them. No regrets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt; He was trying to make sense of everything around him. He always liked to introspect about people and about situations.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;He had always made his decisions based on what he called ‘The Philosophy’ of the society. It was like somebody had already decided what is right and what is not and &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;he realized how ‘The Philosophy’ was now built into everyone’s subconscious and how we instinctively make our decisions based on those ‘rules’ without ever stopping to wonder if it all really makes  sense to us as unique individuals. To put it all in context he realized he never made any decision on an individual feel good basis but more or less based on what the society thought was right&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;Religion is a great example of such collective yet sometimes irrational behavior. He never understood why it was considered wrong for a Hindu to eat meat while the same was part of a religious activity for a Muslim. Why is premarital sex considered wrong? What about same sex marriages? Why on the one hand they say that God is omnipresent and then on the other hand the same people go for pilgrimages to far off places. What about destiny? What about karma?What about the rituals?Why should I try to attain moksha? Is seeking pleasure bad? Is there such a thing called luck? Valid questions all and we have widely accepted answers to all of them. But some answers that religion gives us are just plain illogical and &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;he’d never bothered to question them before.&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;He realized he needed a philosophy of his own &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;to decide what is wrong and what is not. He couldn’t live his life based on rules that someone else made that didn’t make sense to him. He’d believed in God all this while just because his parents did so, his grandparents did so and everyone in his family did so. He never stopped to wonder all this while if there was real need for him to believe in God. It was things like these which seemed illogical to him.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; He now had an empty slate. He now had not only the freedom of thought but also freedom of action. Freedom to experiment with life.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;He realized that to ‘live’ is to let go of all  ‘rules’, think for ourselves, to&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;do things only in ways that make sense to us and &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;to &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;discover life, on our own.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;He had now found what he’d been looking for all this while. Meaning.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-115999812292507421?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/115999812292507421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=115999812292507421' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/115999812292507421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/115999812292507421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2006/10/discover.html' title='Discover'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-115824530929896067</id><published>2006-09-14T07:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T07:53:55.923-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Addicted</title><content type='html'>She had told him that he was bound for the greatest glory. She always had an answer for everything. His alter ego, she was the only one who could see through him. She taught him to say “excuse me “before interrupting her. She made him feel nineteen when he was fifteen. She showed him how to dream out load. She was his windshield. She was his bug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now all of a sudden she had gone far away, but they went parallel to each other, they kept the perfect distance between them. It worked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he got that call on a Friday afternoon. She said she was going through a rough patch, you know when things go wrong. She had hit the ground and there was nobody to talk to. He felt more helpless than ever. His head hurt and he could not breathe. He needed to tell her to be strong and wipe her tears just like she used to tell others and just like she did that so darn well. It’s a gift I think some people have to make others believe what they say and help them feel better. Only if he could learn that.&lt;br /&gt;He walked with a feeling he had never experienced before. He wanted to run, run, run and never look back. He wanted to tell her that he’d be there for her. It was all like a bad dream. But he let it go because he was good at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He smiled when he thought about what he had told A about how,” some things are not meant to happen but they do.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-115824530929896067?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/115824530929896067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=115824530929896067' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/115824530929896067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/115824530929896067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2006/09/addicted.html' title='Addicted'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-115556239465380788</id><published>2006-08-14T06:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T06:33:14.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hangover</title><content type='html'>He was sitting on his bed, wasted, and staring at an empty wall trying to capture his dream.&lt;br /&gt;It must be the bottle of vodka lodged in his head or may be it was the girl he saw at the bar. He woke up and French kissed a half done portrait of a girl he’d been dreaming about every night for about thirteen nights now. While getting dressed for a brand new Monday he thought about the craziest Saturday night he’d ever had. The girl had looked into his eyes and he might have said yes but he laughed so hard that he thought he’d died. For some weird reason he felt ugly that night. She was wearing a burgundy dress and was looking more beautiful than French wine. He’d dreamed about her every night, and captured her face like his mind was a camera. She said,” Would you like to drive me home” but he didn’t know what to say... He said, “I can never be everything you want your man to be. I have big plans but I am standing in a river now and tomorrow I may drown. This is not a movie and I am not a hero”.&lt;br /&gt;She unbuttoned his shirt, touched him near his heart and said,” What’s that beneath your shirt you’re hiding?” She then told him about the man who taught her how to ask. You aint got to fold your hands, just say it with your heart. She then kissed him. No one ever told him there’d be nights like this and there was no time to wonder why. It was the night he always wanted and he remembered that he was never going to forget this for all his life.&lt;br /&gt;With a smile she got close to him and whispered something about midnight. He did not understand a word of what she said but it all felt so good. He ran out of breath and she ran out of time. She said goodbye. He ordered for the usual vodka again.&lt;br /&gt;He was sitting on his bed, wasted, and staring at an empty wall trying to capture his dream. The girl, she had played a trick on him, again. There is always a thrill in the chase but he was sure they will meet face to face one night. He got up to work on her portrait and may be finish it this time but he’d be back again through the night when she’ll be with him in his dream.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-115556239465380788?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/115556239465380788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=115556239465380788' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/115556239465380788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/115556239465380788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2006/08/hangover.html' title='Hangover'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-115515911017948151</id><published>2006-08-09T14:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-09T14:34:19.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Get a life!"</title><content type='html'>I came across this popular list while browsing through some blogs.Its a typical to-do list. You have to bold the statements you've actually done.Seemed quite cool.&lt;br /&gt;Here's mine.&lt;br /&gt;01.Bought everyone in the bar a drink&lt;br /&gt;02. Swam with wild dolphins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;03. Climbed a mountain &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive&lt;br /&gt;05. Been inside the Great Pyramid&lt;br /&gt;06. Held a tarantula&lt;br /&gt;07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;08. Said 'I love you' and meant it&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;09. Hugged a tree&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;10. Bungee jumped &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Visited Paris&lt;br /&gt;12. Watched a lightning storm at sea&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Seen the Northern Lights&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;15. Gone to a huge sports game &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. Touched an iceberg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;19. Slept under the stars&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Changed a baby's diaper&lt;br /&gt;21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;22. Watched a meteor shower &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. Gotten drunk on champagne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;24. Given more than you can afford to charity&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;27. Had a food fight&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. Bet on a winning horse&lt;br /&gt;29. Asked out a stranger&lt;br /&gt;30. Had a snowball fight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. Held a lamb&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;33. Seen a total eclipse&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. Ridden a roller coaster&lt;br /&gt;35. Hit a home run&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. Adopted an accent for an entire day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;39. Had two hard drives for your computer&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. Visited all 10 provinces&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;41. Taken care of someone who was drunk&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;42. Had amazing friends.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country&lt;br /&gt;44. Watched wild whales&lt;br /&gt;45. Stolen a sign&lt;br /&gt;46. Backpacked in Europe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;47. Taken a road-trip&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. Gone rock climbing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;49. Midnight walk on the beach&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. Gone sky diving&lt;br /&gt;51. Visited Ireland&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;52. Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger's table and had a meal with them&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;54. Visited Japan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;55. Milked a cow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;56. Alphabetized your cds&lt;br /&gt;57. Pretended to be a superhero&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;58. Sung karaoke&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;59. Lazed around in bed all day&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;60. Posed nude in front of strangers&lt;br /&gt;61. Gone scuba diving&lt;br /&gt;62. Kissed in the rain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;63. Played in the mud &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;64.Played in the rain&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;65. Gone to a drive-in theater&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;66. Visited the Great Wall of China&lt;br /&gt;67. Started a business&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;69. Toured ancient sites&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;70. Taken a martial arts class&lt;br /&gt;71. Played D&amp;D for more than 6 hours straight&lt;br /&gt;72. Gotten married&lt;br /&gt;73. Been in a movie&lt;br /&gt;74. Crashed a party&lt;br /&gt;75. Gotten divorced&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;76. Gone without food for 5 days&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;77. Made cookies from scratch&lt;br /&gt;78. Won first prize in a costume contest&lt;br /&gt;79. Ridden a gondola in Venice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;80. Gotten a tattoo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;81. Rafted the Snake River&lt;br /&gt;82. Been on television news programs as an "expert"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;83. Got flowers for no reason &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;84. Performed on stage&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;85. Been to Las Vegas&lt;br /&gt;86. Recorded music&lt;br /&gt;87. Eaten shark.&lt;br /&gt;88. Had a one-night stand&lt;br /&gt;89. Gone to Thailand&lt;br /&gt;90. Bought a house&lt;br /&gt;91. Been in a combat zone&lt;br /&gt;93. Been on a cruise ship&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;94. Spoken more than one language fluently&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;95. Performed in Rocky Horror.&lt;br /&gt;96. Raised children&lt;br /&gt;97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour&lt;br /&gt;98. Created and named your own constellation of stars&lt;br /&gt;99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn't stop when you knew someone was looking&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;103. Had plastic surgery&lt;br /&gt;104. Survived an illness that you shouldn't have survived&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;105. Wrote article for a large publication&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;106. Lost over 100 pounds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;107. Held someone while they were having a flashback&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;108. Piloted an airplane&lt;br /&gt;109. Petted a stingray&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;110. Broken someone's heart &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;111. Helped an animal give birth&lt;br /&gt;112. Won money on a T.V. game show&lt;br /&gt;113. Broken a bone&lt;br /&gt;114. Gone on an African photo safari&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;115. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;118. Ridden a horse &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;119. Had major surgery&lt;br /&gt;120. Had a snake as a pet&lt;br /&gt;121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;122. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states&lt;br /&gt;124. Visited all 7 continents&lt;br /&gt;125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days&lt;br /&gt;126. Eaten kangaroo meat&lt;br /&gt;127. Eaten sushi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;128. Had your picture in the newspaper&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;129. Changed someone's mind about something you care deeply about&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;130. Gone back to school.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;131. Parasailed&lt;br /&gt;132. Petted a cockroach&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;133. Eaten fried green tomatoes&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;134. Read The Iliad - and the Odyssey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;135. Selected one "important" author who you missed in school, and read&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;137. Skipped all your school reunions &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;139. Been elected to public office &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;140. Written your own computer language&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;141. Thought to yourself that you're living your dream&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care&lt;br /&gt;143. Built your own PC from parts&lt;br /&gt;144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn't know you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;145. Had a booth at a street fair&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;146. Dyed your hair&lt;br /&gt;147. Been a DJ&lt;br /&gt;148. Shaved your head&lt;br /&gt;149. Caused a car accident&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;150. Saved someone's life &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30/150.&lt;br /&gt;Not too bad i think,but there's always the  'scope' for improvement.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-115515911017948151?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/115515911017948151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=115515911017948151' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/115515911017948151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/115515911017948151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2006/08/get-life.html' title='&quot;Get a life!&quot;'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32082575.post-115454833718749506</id><published>2006-08-02T12:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T11:42:27.260-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Read</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured. I realised, somehow, through the screaming in my mind, that even in that shackled, bloody helplessness, I was still free: free to hate the men who were torturing me, or to forgive them. It doesn't sound like much, I know. But in the flinch and bite of the chain, when it's all you've got, that freedom is a universe of possibility. And the choice you make, between hating and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;forgiving, can become the story of your life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;-Shantaram(By Gregory David Roberts)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I loved the book.And i hear johnny depp's producing the movie starring himself and emily watson in lead.Now this is a lot more than what i'd asked for and i am loving it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32082575-115454833718749506?l=whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/feeds/115454833718749506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32082575&amp;postID=115454833718749506' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/115454833718749506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32082575/posts/default/115454833718749506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whatwouldscoobydoo.blogspot.com/2006/08/read.html' title='Read'/><author><name>Prabhakar Kudva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
