A letter to Mother Nature

Hey Mother Nature,

S'up? Contrary to the human race's best efforts, I hope you are doin great.
So Mother Naitch (can I call you that?), dude, I know you don't usually answer wishes and stuff cause only a few lesbians living on the west coast beleive in you, but I was hoping you'd grant me a few wishes. And please, DON'T forward this to God. I know you are like his committee chairperson for planet earth, but I already tried reaching him. But that guy is more difficult to reach than Tony Soprano. I'm tellin ya. I tried to mail him, but he never replies. I think my mail keeps going to his junk mail folder. When I tried to go through one of his offices here on earth, the managers there keep handing me a book to read. Seriously, those books are so not going to be on the New York Times best seller lists. I don't think God can be such a bad writer. Those books appear to be written by some Sidney Sheldon-Jackie Collins wannabe crack whore on LSD. Seriously. And then half of the people in those offices condemn me to hell. Tell me, are there any gay people in hell? I imagine hell to be some sardonic, hedonistic place full of rambunctious debaunchers like me. Fun place, no?

Another thing is that God doesn't even have a phone. I mean the master of the universe is at least expected to have a 1-800 number. Even Geico has one, for cryin out loud. What does he do with the money that his offices collect as revenue? Not trying to be rude but I think God needs to get audited.

Anyhoo, back to me. I just wanted you to be a good girl and do some those miracles people talk about. Can you like, eliminate all the fat in my body, give me an eight pack and a fab ass? Plus I'd also like to wake up next to a combination of some or all of the people mentioned in the attachment names.doc (after having done you-know-what). The reason that I'm asking you for the miracle is that to accomplish these things in real life, one needs to actually get up from one's ass and do something about it. Since one simply refuses to move one's ass, one is requesting you for a miracle as a last resort.

I know this is a tough one, but if you think about it, really not my fault. It's either your fault or God's fault. You guys can have a meeting to decide who to blame. My vote is to the guy who administers the office up there. You guys are worse run then enron.
See, what happened was that you put me on a planet where Gay people were, until a few decades ago, stoned/killed/married to Liza Minelli or something.(Cause these people God appointed to oversee his offices on earth, were like sanctimonious sons-of-bitches). So I was like really fucked up for most of my teenage years. And more so when I legally became an adult (I say legally cause mentally I'm still 15). So this whole "Gay" thing was like delayed. So know, we need to accomplish those things in a short span of time. And, dude, we can't seem to wait that long. And don't try to ignore this mail. Otherwise I know this Nigerian guy who has your bank account number. And if ya help me, I promise to recycle a lot of stuff (specially corny jokes & one-liners). And I'm not threatening you or anything, but I can arrange to have Al Gore cloned. Think about it. That's all I'm asking.

Have Fun,

Lotsa Love,

Rambunctious WhipperSnapper

I'm still not tapping out ... at least not yet anyway

* The God running the earth electronics department does not like me anymore. First my cellphone conks off. Then I learn that 'conked off' is written with a c [fine that is not about electronics per se, however spell check told me, the bitch is technology, no? and it has to be female, right?] and the other phone which WAS working fine till yesterday suddenly gives up on me. And my internet connection keeps losing it's connectivity to the server and the darn computer keeps beeping and my landline phone got broken 'accidentally'. Except there are no accidents. The electronic God and his minions on earth have decided that they somehow don't like me and that I have bad electronic karma. And I once almost took up technology as a career. *Feels Smug that didn't take up technology as a career*.

* My friends have got to stop calling me for advice on relationships. I mean dude, have you heard me talk about any girlfriend for the past two years? Have I even said the word 'boobs' in a non-medical sense or in a non-nonchalant way? And right now, when I think about it, they also haven't noticed that I am gay. Some people can be so self-involved [of course, bloggers are NOT self involved]. And how come my advice actually helps them? All I do is give some rehashed advice I read in a Paul Coelho or Robin Sharma [A few months ago, I thought he was good. What can I say, I was not myself. Not anymore though. So stop judging, okay?] book. Sheesh, just like in a cheesy romantic comedy its always the fat friend who comes to the rescue.

* One of the books I ordered last month, which I was told would be delivered within seven days, is still not here. And I received an email yesterday that I can expect the book to be speedily dispatched [their words not mine] by 25th May and I can expect to receive the book in the first week of June. I wrote back to them saying that even though my sucks I still know that by no possible logic 7 days can be equal to 60 days. (Even if you are watching the darn Harison Ford movie by the same name). No reply back. Dude, I can practically walk to your frigin warehouse and then walk back home with time to spare to have 3 kids before you deliver that book. Even the Earth was created faster.

* I just don't get the stuff I used to when I was younger [Gawd!! I'm already using this line. Now I'm scared]. I mean I was a big fan of Ally McBeal. And now, when I see it, I'm like .... Meh. And I don't even like the same books. Or the same alcohol. Another example Iis that when I was a kid, I was a big passionate fan of wrestling. And now, I couldn't be bothered. I don't even watch much TV anymore. Not that there is much on. I can just sit and watch Brothers & Sisters, I looove Boston Legal and of course, Entourage. And a few episodes of Keeping Up Appearances here and there. And I keep you tubin my favorite stand up comics.And sometimes a bit of Scrubs isn't bad. And on a slow day I can watch How I met your mother and Two and a Half Men. [Talk about not watching much TV. I'm so full of it sometimes. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is my John Kerry moment].

* Looks like David Archuleta has all but wrapped up the Idol crown. No, I did not watch it. Not after I made such a hue and cry about it here. I just happened to bump into some news stories about Idol on google. I usually don't go back on my word unless it involves money or sex. Or both.

* Do not read The Japanese Wife. The book is just drab. It's like Lord of the Rings to the power of 1500. And I never dis books. That's like a cardinal sin in my book [horrendous pun not intended]. Unless the book sucks. Wow. Now I'm doing Mitt Romneyesque contradictions. And I don't even like republicans.


* I just realised a few minutes ago that when I was a kid, I had a crush on Joe Hardy from the Hardy Boys books!! Of course, not anymore. That would be creepy. :P :P



* Why is 4 Minutes so catchy? I can't get the frikin song out of my head! And I had just begun to forgive myself for liking Sexy Back!!


So this has been my life for the past few days. What have you guys been upto? And that is not a rhetorical question.

Heads and Tales

We're feeling random and superficial and frivolous today.

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Gather around children, while we tell you a little story. About a young boy. About a young, handsome boy who loved good high end phones. So one day two years ago, on his birthday, on a whim, he gifted himself a Nokia communicator. He was happy with his equipment. It was big after all. I mean the phone children. Don't exercise your dirty minds. So a year after that suddenly his phone stopped working that day. Since it was around his birthday again, he dropped hints to his family for a new Nokia N** he liked. And by dropping hints I mean the boy drove them crazy until they got him one to shut him up. Then yesterday, the handsome boy's less than a year old phone conked off leaving him to use his trusty communicator again [which mysteriously started working fine the day after the new phone was purchased]. And now, the boy reminds himself that someone's birthday is coming up in a few weeks. So the boy puts hand under chin and begins to think.

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We have somehow arrived at the conclusion that we are still in our teens. Though, chronologically we may be 20-something, however, seeing that we still haven't had our first gay date yet, we declare that we are still in our teens. Just outside of gay puberty. Doesn't make any sense but it makes us feel better. So if we can delude ourselves to feel happy without the aid of any external substance then why shouldn't we. We shall calculate my exact teenage age [see what I did there; thou even I don't get it ] at a more appropriate time and reveal it in a more structured and less precious-brain-cells-depleting post.

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We are totally having a lame day. Writing lame stuff and writing lame comments on other blogs. Or maybe we just are lame. [subliminal message: we are kind of fishing here].

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So we were over at Chandni's blog, and she did this great 55 fiction story. For those of you who as unfamiliar about 55 fiction as we are, it's basically a story within 55 or less words. And since we love to bore you with our stories, we thought we'll attempt to come up with something: --------------------

He couldn’t believe it. After years and years of waiting, he finally met the person he used to see in his dreams.

He couldn’t believe that he was there sitting right next to him.

Although he was shocked to know that God sucked at playing Guitar Hero.

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Okay. Okay. I said that we are having a lame day. We will find another day job. Don't quit on us. We may get better. Sigh. Fine. We'll go then.