What do Facebook and Pirates have in common? The language!

I discovered this feature quite a while ago. It so happened that I was trying to pass some time by browsing web pages at random — about.com, howstuffworks, cnn.com and the likes. At that moment, I came across a wikipedia article on facebook features, and found out an easter egg!

You can change the default language of facebook to be English (Pirate), and ye scullywags’ll be speakin the tongue in a grain ‘o sand! See:

Even if you aren’t a Pirates fan, you can try out the application for the fun of it! Just notice how familiar things change when speaking pirate lingo:

Here, Home becomes Home Port, Profile becomes Me, Friends > Me Hearties, and Inbox > Bottle o’ Messages

Look at some more screenshots:

In the last screenshot, Pocket Parrot stands for Mobile Device! 

I suggest that you give that pirate a try! Furthermore, I can be found on facebook at http://facebook.com/rajatarora.info/. Befriend me!

Ah, btw… If you are wondering what an easter egg is, find out all about them here.

A maths book is exponentially better. It is full of problems, yes – but at least it is full of something! Whereas me, the maths register, is almost empty! Because I belong to a mathophobic, the great Rajat Arora, who simply does not write anything on me! Shameless man!

Maths is a boring subject – perhaps that is why my services lie unused! My master just dozes off in the class, with no strings attached. He sits on the last bench to do this (but an old friend of mine, a botany register, who also served the same master last year, told me that he once slept while sitting on the front seat too!) Shameless man!

I feel very envious of a distant cousin of mine, who has got a very nice master – a beautiful, attractive young lady in her early twenties. Not only she loves him a lot and always keeps him pressed with her boobs, she also writes on him in crystal clear handwriting. Who is going to bring my master to his senses? He doesn’t even know the meaning of handwriting. When he writes on me, I feel like somebody is shitting on me. Shameless man!

A register feels good when he is subjected to various colours of ink. Holi is a register’s favorite festival, you know! I know that my master is a student, and he is allowed to use only the blue and the black ink, so my dreams of bathing in colours can come true only when a teacher writes on me. A teacher always uses the red ink, and I’ve heard that the college principal uses the green ink! How exciting! Alas, I cannot think very far! I’m all blue and black – black very less, because my master is a fool. Let alone the principal, he not even gives me to the teacher for correction. How mean! Shamless Man!

I must tell you one thing though. The first impression of my master on me was really good. You know, he was very possessive about me! When he had purchased me, he wrote his name on my first page. That is when I got to know that his name was Rajat Arora. I thought he was the perfect master for me. I don’t have any eyes, so I cannot tell you how he looks. They say that love is blind, don’t they? I’ve always wanted a fairytale romance, and I thought that I was finally getting it. But no, I was wrong. It was the seven day itch. He took good care of me initially, but after just seven days, everything changed. His handwriting, his responsiveness, everything! He even started playing tic-tac-toe on me with his friends, and that too when he was inside the class! Shameless man!

You know what? The best way to a register’s heart is through his pages. If you really love a register, you should write on him more and more, and very regularly. Believe me, he will get overly impressed. Bu my master does not love me! In the whole three terms, he has used only 66 pages of mine, which is less than even half of my capacity. What am I supposed to say to the raddiwala when he sees me at the end of exams? He’ll laugh at me, make fun of me. He’ll think that I’ve not been faithful! Oh God I’m so depressed! But my master will never try to make me feel better. Shameless man!

I often ask God, why ME? Why did I get a shameless man as a master? Why can’t I take the place of my distant cousin? Why God, Why?