Now I am a die hard Facebook games addict. I play Mafia Wars and love flexing muscle and saying in deep baritone “MAIN HOON DON!” Cough Cough – that baritone strained my vocal chords. I also play Farmville. I agree with Addy – If I could grow marijuana in my farm and sell it to the criminals in my Mafia famiglia, I would be awesome.
All pause a moment and admire my awesomeness in my perfect imaginary world …..
Sigh! Life does have a way of bringing us down with a thump.
About two months ago, Zynga – the blokes who run the show in Farmville announced a chicken coop expansion. It was chaos and mayhem with everyone clambering to get a larger chicken coop. I tried to get into my farm to join the fray – but I was locked out of my farm. Try as I may – I could not gain entry. I shed tears, sang a soulful dirge and said Alvida Farmville.
A week ago Zynga remembered little ole me. They sent me a mail telling me that they had waved their fairy wand and unwithered my crop of cotton and unlocked my farm magically. I clicked the link provided and was in my farm again. Happiness all around. Actually it made just li’ll ole me happy.
Now Zynga has a policy … Mafia Wars runs on the strength of your Mafia family. Large is everything – family planning be damned. Farmville runs on neighbours who fertilize your crop, and you fertilize their crop. You cant fertilize your own crop. Hmmm it sounds like pleasuring your own self. It aint allowed in Farmville. During my long absence a lot of my neighbours quit. So I decided to abandon them. I work in a manufacturing unit where productivity and streamlining is everything. I set about making my farm efficient and unfriended a whole lot of blokes.
One person took it rather personally. I sincerely apologize to my erstwhile neighbours. Its all in the name of business. If you should be annoyed with someone – blame Facebook. Blame Zynga too! It is in any case being blamed rightly and wrongly for everything including global warming and meteor falls.
Me – I am just a bit player growing tomatoes and carrots and dreaming of growing marijuana for my Mafia.











Works wonderfully as Mrs. Chopra’s spoilt son’s wedding gift. She can spend the rest of her life bitching about it at kitty parties, but her son wont know where to keep it – not to mention – how to explain to his bride!

