Monday, December 6, 2010

And then we came to an end

So what we were talking about?

I don’t remember.

Haha, why?

I’m a little sleepy.

Then go to sleep. Why are you forcing yourself to remain awake?

Because what if you get your visa tomorrow and leave and don’t even have time to say goodbye? I’ll sleep when you leave.

God! You’re so paranoid. I’m not going to get my Visa tomorrow. And I won’t leave in a day. And I won’t leave without saying goodbye.

You promise?

Yes. I promise.

. . . . . . . .

Hi, good morning!

Good morning!

Guess what?

Honey, I’m too tired to play the guessing game right now. So go on?

I just got a call from the embassy. I finally got my Visa!


When do you leave?


Sunday, August 29, 2010

100 days of Winter

You meet a guy. You call him Winter, because you met him in errrr, winter and this is supposed to be an anonymous blog and you just saw 500 Days of Summer the other day and well, you put two and two together and voila.

This is how it all began:

One day, out of the blue your friend introduces you to a guy. By introduce, you mean asks you whether he can give your phone number to this great guy he met. You shrug your shoulders and say yes because, your friend knows that you are too much of a wuss and would never call him if you had his number.

Day 1:

So Winter, finally calls you one day. Both of you have a great fifteen minute conversation and then hang up. You don't think much about it because you know that nothing can happen with this guy because you're fat and no one likes fat people anyway.

DAY 2:

You're checking something on your phone and you chance upon Winter's number and you decide to call him. What's the worst that can happen anyway? You call him and he actually sounds like he means it when he says that it was nice of you to call. You have another great conversation with him and you reference the fact that you're fat about a gazzilion times, just to make sure that he gets the message.

Day 5:

It’s Winter’s birthday. You end up playing an un-deliberate game of phone tag with each other and after getting fed up, you wish him through a text message!

Day 6 to Day 12:

You and Winter continue talking to each other for a week, getting to know stuff about each other.

Then you decide to meet.

Day 15:

You don't call it a date, because it's not a real date. Both, Winter and you are uncomfortable calling it a date.

Actually, it's just Winter who is uncomfortable. In your mind, it's a freaking date.

You head out for lunch. You don't go to the place you promised Winter you would take him to because you CAN'T FIND IT. You mentally punch yourself in the gut, freak out as always, but are still thankful to Winter when he politely asks you to choose another place. 

At lunch you try to make Winter comfortable and keep reminding yourself that you're out on a non-date date and you shouldn't pig out, because you look even grosser than usual when you do.

When lunch arrives, you pick up your fork and proceed to pig out.

A minute after you've stuffed your face with food like a redneck at a wings buffet, Winter looks at you and smiles.

You realize that the reason he's smiling is because you've started eating his order.

You smile in embarrassment, and continue to apologize profusely, something, unbeknownst to him, you would be doing for the rest of the day.

You then pay for lunch, over Winter's loud and ardent protests, because of the pre-pubescent alpha-male bullshit you got going on in your head.

You then ask Winter if he wants to go book shopping. He says yes, and that makes you full of unimaginable glee because: ZOMG! HE LIKES BOOKS!!

You try to contain yourself and thankfully prevent a catastrophe of epic proportions by not asking Winter to move in with you.

You head towards the book shop. You do not find the entrance by which you came in last time, even though you've circled the damn building three times. Then you realize that the entrance is closed.

You apologize again, and you go around the other end of the building.

After five minutes and ninety million stairs later, you finally reach the bookshop.

You're huffing and puffing like you're going to blow down the house of a pig from a fairytale.

Winter asks you if you're okay. You force a smile, look up, try to stand straight, stop leaning on your knees for support, and give him the international sign for "S'okay". He shakes his head and asks you to sit down. You act like you're not getting a fucking seizure and refuse to sit down, because your ego is larger than your ass.

Anyways, you proceed to browse the bookshop, and you discover that he shares your distaste of he-who-shall-not-be-named, among other undistinguished authors. During the course of the three and a half hours you spend at the bookshop with Winter, somewhere "Should I get this book?" turns into "Are we getting this book?"

And then, you commit the biggest piece of dumbfuckery anyone has ever pulled.

You turn to Winter and tell him "I think I want to gift you a book".





You immediately realize what you've done.






You try to explain that you’re trying to make up for not being able to wish him on his birthday and that you aren’t that guy, even though you just presented him with evidence to the contrary. Winter turns to you and politely refuses, not making you feel like a total freak.

But you know what you have done. You start banging your head on one of the bookshelves. You end up knocking down a semi-huge pile of books.

You immediately withdraw yourself away from the situation and pretend to be as horrified as the bookshop employees who rush to pick up the books. You look towards a guy talking on his phone who has his back turned towards you and shake your head, immediately grabbing the higher moral ground.

Or so you think.

The cold stares you get from the bookshop employees trying to clean up your mess enlighten you about the fact that you may not be as suave a liar as you think you are.

Fortunately for you, Winter is somewhere else and does not notice your handiwork.

You ask him if he's done shopping. he says yes. Both of you proceed towards the counter, to pay for the stuff you bought.

You go first. You pay for your stuff and then since Winter is standing behind you, you try to be nice and all and ask him to hand you his books, so that the bill-guy can tally Winter's stuff while the packing-guy packs yours.

Unfortunately, Winter takes this to mean that you just offered to pay for his stuff, AGAIN.




You take your stuff and step away from the counter, because you've already done all the damage that you could do.

After paying for your books, both of you decide to head to the coffee shop next door.

Things go of well, you're getting along, having a nice conversation, even though you end up saying a lot of corny stuff, but you save yourself (kinda) by mentioning how corny the stuff you just said was, and how you meant it "ironically". Then you ask yourself when you became a FUCKING HIPSTER!

Then you insist on ordering some thing to eat along with your coffee, because (a) You're hungry and (b) Since it took you a bit of time to get the table, you feel it's inappropriate to just sit there and have coffee. So you decide to order some cookies.

The guy gets some weird looking thing which doesn't even look like what you ordered.

You eat that weird thing.

Then, suddenly, you don’t feel that good. No, it’s not the usual feeling of disgust, which you even get for small things like a Jay Leno joke. It’s the real thing, like the one you get when you realize that a poor person is somewhere in the vicinity. In short, you want to throw up!

You look up, Winter is talking about something interesting. You nod along, but you concentrate hard on not trying to puke all over the coffee shop. Even though there is this irritating lady on the next table who deserves to have puke all over her botoxed face, you resist. Then you immediately get up and run to the washroom.

You come back after ten minutes, looking like hell.

You apologize to a confused Winter.

He signals for the cheque, and you don't say anything, because even you are not that dumb.

You head outside.

Then, you discover that both the car and the driver are missing.

The driver isn't at the designated spot and is not picking up your call.

You and Winter roam around looking for him.

You find him after half an hour, sleeping in the car, which  is parked a thousand miles from where you told him to park. A person who looks like your driver is sleeping in the car, oblivious to the ringing phone.

You don’t tell the driver anything, at that precise moment, because Winter asks you not to. However, to paraphrase Russel Peters, SOMEBODY GONNA GET A HURT REAL BAD.

You finally proceed to go home. You drop Winter off. You see him go, probably for the last time ever.

You think to yourself that, well, at least you have a what-not-to-do guide for a first non-date date.

Day 16:

You still thinking about yesterday’s disastrous non-date. You spend the morning moping.

Well, more than usual.

Then, just when you are about to dig in to your compensatory steak, the phone rings.

It’s Winter.

He called!

But that’s a story for another day.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Some things are not over even after the fat lady has sung!

I thought I wouldn't write any more posts about 'coming out' cause I am so over it. I assumed that I had left those days behind in 2009.

However, one day while watching something on the telly, it dawned on me that I would be 'coming out' (advertently/inadvertently) for the rest of my life so why not.

I would be coming out everytime I meet someone new and they ask me about my girlfriend (this is why I simply don't like meeting new people). I would be coming out everytime one of my "friends" on facebook read the favourite music' (Gaga + Glambert among other things) section on my profile and put two and two together. I would be coming out to complete strangers when they see me cavorting with my future boyfriend (who I think will probably always remain hypothetical. But that's a whole another post.) in public.

And that is fine by me. I made my peace with that a long time ago.

It would have been easier if I had a youthful gayface like David Archuleta, but nobody's perfect, I guess.

I had told my sister a few weeks after I told my Dad. There wasn't a lot of drama there, she just said that she just wanted me to be happy. She told my bro-in-law last week. So that completes all the adults in my family.

But to me the big one was my brother, who I happen to casually come out to a few months ago. I finally spelled it out for him and confirmed his worst fears. 

I told him that I don't like teh vajayjay (I call it that not because I can't say V_g__a, but because lady reproductive parts gross me out. No offense, I'm sure all you ladies out there must find it useful, say for holding a pen or twittering or something).

To say he was shocked is sort of an understatement.

However, the whole thing took an unexpected turn.

I was expecting accusations, anger and animosity.

I got none of that.

He was pretty nice about it.

Him and me actually sat down and had a long conversation about it. On top of that, he wanted me to tell him all the details (like since when I have known etc.).

For a while, he was just my big brother!

It was like I was eight again and he was warning the mean fifteen year olds down the street that if they bully me they would have to deal with him or I was in school and he personally drove me to my exam centre instead of letting me take the driver because he knew how nervous I was and would probably throw up on the way and would appreciate having someone familiar tell me that it;s going to be okay. Or he was the same guy who was surprised that his 'little' teenage brother was buying Eminem CDs which had an 'explicit lyrics' warming on the jacket.

So it was perhaps our most adult conversation ever. I told him about my boy crushes. managed to explain the term 'fag hag' to him and even discussed my idea of the future with him.

When I said to him that one day I would move away and leave everyone else in peace so that they don't have to deal with the consequences of me wanting to be who I am, he actually got angry and told me that I was stupid to think that and just because I am gay he or anyone else in the family would love me any less. And that I am still the same brother he's always had, except with a little bit more metaphorical glitter!

To say that I was flabbergasted would be an understatement.

Ever since I've known that I was gay, even back when I was in denial, I use to try to push my family away. I sort off convinced myself that I was doing it for them, so that it would eventually make it easier for them to forget me. However, that was me, trying as always, to make things easier for me.

I can't even begin to describe how wrong I was. However, they couldn't have been more understanding And it makes my heart break that I used to think that they would have been anything but.

I'm not the easiest person to like. But, somehow, my family has been doing it for all these years. And will continue to do it, despite my best efforts.

I know that a larger battle looms ahead. However, the freedom to be me ALL the time, not having to hide who I am from the people closest to me, is a precious gift that I’m glad to have.

So here I am, closing the door to my closet from the outside, thinking of the long time it took for this day to come, and then wondering what all the fuss was about!

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Memo to the Indian media: Not everyone can be a “gay icon”

Most of the time, the Indian media is really clueless about gay issues. But, sometimes, they go so far beyond clueless that’s it’s embarrassing. Embarrassing for them, that is. Humorous for us.

Let’s start with this recent article about the poor man’s Aamir Khan posing shirtless for his movie posters:

Ever since Imran’s shirtless pictures were splashed in various newspapers, the phones at Dharma productions (Karan Johar’s company which is producing Imran’s next, I Hate Luv Storys) have almost been ringing off the hook with calls from gay fans requesting an autographed picture of the actor.

The whole article in short: Oh look, random shirtless person. Wait, he’s also showing a tiny part of his posterior. That’s it. HE IS A GAY ICON! Because isn’t that what “the gays” love? Pecs and asses? STOP THE PRESSES!

Also, this is the worst bullshit that has been ever written, even by the standards of the Times of India. Really? It’s 2010. There are millions of more ‘explicit’ and less photoshopped pictures available with a single google search. This is just typical self-loathing homophobe Karan Johar’s idiotic way of promoting his little movie.

These were the same people who just a few months ago annoited John Abraham to gay icon status.

Why? Well, because he was shirtless while starring in a messy movie mashup of Three’s Company and I Now Pronounce You Chuck And Larry. Also, he “exposed”, and showed a part of his butt! So, GAY ICON!

How does it feel to be a gay icon?
Today homosexuality is so open world over. To think that the same gender likes you is a plus.
Have you ever been propositioned then?
Oh, all the time. Be it Philadelphia where I came back from or Miami. Women and men have come up to me to chat. I have been asked ‘Are you single?’
That’s a compliment.
Listen, I can’t take this as a compliment. My trainer Mike Ryan used to go for walking with me and he is a tough guy. And when two tough guys walk together, people look at you and wonder. And before anybody said anything, I would say, ‘He is not my boyfriend.’ In Miami and San Francisco, the best looking men are gay. Can you beat that?

Yes, Bipasha Basu’s ho is really scared of being identified as ‘gay’. Ahh, what a nice “icon” to have.

And before Mr-One-Expression-Only, it was bearded Neetu Kapoor who was, you guessed it, a gay icon!

A little more than three weeks still remain for Ranbir’s first film Saawariya to hit the theatres and the newcomer from the Kapoor clan has already become very popular with youngsters, particularly girls and gays. The gay community in Mumbai has already labeled Ranbir as their new icon. On the other hand, girls can’t stop drooling over Ranbir wherever he goes to promote ‘Saawariya’.

Yup. Because in his first movie, he almost showed his butt, because the scene was cut by mean censor board, because they hate small butts and they cannot lie? [Btw, this article about Ranbir is a laugh-riot! Not only because of the bad english.]

Now, before you think this is limited to just random actors, you’re in for a surprise.

Rahul Gandhi emerged as a youth icon during the General Elections with even Prime Minster Manmohan Singh acknowledging his contribution to the Congress' thumping victory.

But it isn't only the youth that are looking to him for a voice. The country's lesbian, gay, bisexual and trans-gender (LGBT) community voted overwhelmingly for the Congress hoping that young Rahul would take up their cause.

"He's really cute... he's so good looking and young. He's like the Ranbir Kapoor of Indian politics. He has all the charm and he didn't even have to drop a towel," says a gay rights activist



I’d be surprised by their ignorance, but it’s nothing new. The coverage has always been this clueless.

Anyways, scribes, hacks and other idiots, let me break it down for you.

Firstly, contrary to popular rumours, all the gay members do not gather around in their secret gaycave every week and decide whom to elevate to the status of the next top gay icon. You’re confusing us with Tyra Banks.

Also, secondly, just because you talk to a few idiots looking to see their fake name in print, doesn’t make them representative of the gay community. Neither do editors of some small-ass internet or print publication. Or for that matter any random blogger.

See, the thing is that just because someone poses shirtless doesn’t make them an icon. Gay icons are people who actually do something for the community. Either they tread the road less travelled, or blaze their way through glass ceilings and never look back.

Okay, that sounded too dramatic. Even for me.

Simply put, gay icons are people who give something back to the community. Or they entertain us.

Like Harvey Milk, Lt. Dan Choi or Elton John or Ellen DeGeneres or our patron saint of the immaculate penis, Lady Gaga.

Hell, gay people loved Liza Minnelli so much, they even married her a couple of times.

Besides, we even take care of our non-icons.

Look at Antonio Sabato jr. Whenever he runs out of money, he takes his shirt off in a movie or reality show and we throw some gay coins at him. But, he didn’t become our ho in one day. Bitch had to work it. He did a couple of movies where he got naked, (and unlike Indian actors, he had the balls to show his, ummmm, balls), and had simulated gay sex. We appreciate him for that and hence he never goes without money.

Therefore,  the moral of the story is: You don’t become an icon just because you show some P & A.

But you can still be our ho!

Just remember to get naked. Often.

Otherwise don’t call us. We’ll call you.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

This is why March is known for it's madness!

I wanted a breather from the 'hectic' life I have at home so I went back to my favourite hilly town again. I was expecting great weather, good food, a small number of people and a bookstore which I could spend hours at.

Either nothing was as I left it last time or my memory is hazier than the storylines of Lost.

The weather was like Drew Barrymore's career, good in some parts but really crappy overall.

The food was worse than Julia Robert's choice in men. The espresso bar I used to frequent earlier was dead and gone, replaced by a shop for some stupid clothing chain. God-damn capitalists with their need for maximum profit!

There were more people there than the number of Jennifer Aniston's ex-boyfriends. I went there because it was March and I thought people would be busy with their stupid children's stupid exams and that people would be busy in doing one of those job things which though sound really awful, seem to be the in thing these days. However, apparently, everyone had their stupid exams in February and those job things come with something called 'vacation time' now. Whatever happened to exploiting your workforce? Everyone seems to have turned into a god-damn socialist!

And don't even get me started on the bookstore. The probability of me going back to that bookstore is even smaller than the chance of J. Lo having a successful comeback. All the books were stacked together like common pieces of merchandise. How can anyone enjoy shopping for books when they are presented to you like they present a large number of probable child brides to rich, horny old men in small Indian villages? Where is the romance in that?

On top of that, the owner of the bookshop had the temerity to recommend to me a book whose exact tag line was "It's like the Da Vince Code . . . only better!!!" [sic]. He didn't notice, but I ended up putting a curse on him. Read all about it in the new thrilling future bestseller The dreaded curse of the combustible Homo, in a book store near you  early May 2035 - It's like the Da Vince Code and The Secret got together and had a baby!!!

Another thing which bothered me was that since it was the off-season for the hilly town, everyone was using this opportunity to get their shitty hell holes re-painted which made all my allergies act up.

To make it worse, the one route I loved to walk on, because of it's solitary nature, was now dotted with more hotels and those infernal tea-shops for the poors, who seem to find their way into every place. If they really have no money, what are they doing at a hilly town?

If I said anything to anyone, they would tell me that it's nice of me to get out of my 'comfort zone' and I should give it a couple of days. What does that even mean? Why would anyone like to get out of their 'comfort zone'? Don't people spend their whole life trying to find a freaking comfort zone? So why fix something which ain't broke? I think it's just one of those things that people say which they really do not mean. Like "Of course this plus-sized t-shirt doesn't make you look fat" or "Just because you slept with him on the first date doesn't mean he thinks you're a slut".

I felt the same mixture of anger and disappointment which people feel when they realize that they have a crush on John Mayer.

I wondered what happened to this hilly-town? It was supposed to be my happy place (before I discovered Ryan Carnes). Nothing felt right. It seemed to be a metaphor for my life, where nothing felt right too. Just like me, the hilly town seemed to have lost it's mojo! It was also probably spending it's time brooding in it's room, listening to Speechless while eating chicken from it's nearest KFC.

So I stood there one day, on the balcony of my room, high on benadryl and paint fumes, thinking of packing up and leaving the next day. Just then, a family friend who sort of lives nearby the hotel I was staying in, came knocking. He had heard about the terrible time I was having and he promised me that he would make it up to me. Since I was not in my senses (more than usual), I agreed to join him for a ride after lunch. Mostly because he did not use the words "comfort" and "zone". Smart man.

And it turned out to be one of my better decisions! Even better than the time when as a five year old, I kicked a stranger offering me ice cream right in the cajones. Yes, I am smart like that, sometimes. Very rare times, in fact.

So the family friend took to me to a part of the hilly town that I haven't ever seen, even though I had been visiting the place for almost two decades. And that place had the most amazing view ever! It was one of the best scenes I have ever laid my eyes on. I had begun to think that just like a straight Jonas brother, such a view would be impossible to find! But I was wrong! (Still right about the Jonas brothers though! They're probably gayer than a Saturday night at Elton John's house!)

Then we went to a bookshop where I found the book that I had been wanting to read since a long time. We ended our sojourn at a place which serves the most amazing waffles I've ever had, which were accompanied by a delectable cup of coffee.

I did everything I wanted to do in a span of two hours! And then, just like Chris Brown before the grammy's, it hit me. At about 8000 feet above the sea level I realized that life was trying to send me a message in it's own effed up way. That even if you get old & derelict like Madonna and end up losing your way every now and then, somehow, someway you will find something new and surprising inside of you. Even if it is a guy whose name is pronounced as Haysoos.

Maybe it was imaginary, like Sarah Palin's high school diploma, and maybe it's a little to self-helpy when I think about it, but at least I got out of my comfort zone!

Shouldn't that count for something?

Monday, February 22, 2010

Three bigots walk into a bar, and drown it with their stupidity!

So the case against reading down of 377 supreme court is going to be heard sometime this year.

Turns out, there have been a large number of additions to the original petitioner who wanted to criminalize adult consensual sex.

On Saturday, the number of petitioners in the Supreme Court - challenging the July 2009 decision of the Delhi High Court to strike down an anti-sodomy law - stood at 16 from the original two.

Two Christian church coalitions, three Muslim NGOs, two Hindu astrologers, a disciple of yoga guru Baba Ramdev, an NGO run by a former Delhi police officer, and an environmentalist, will be among those in the Supreme Court when it hears an appeal next month against the overturning of the Indian Penal Code' section 377.

Only one person, film director and Rajya Sabha MP Shyam Benegal, has quietly joined the original petitioner, Delhi NGO Naz Foundation, in support of gay rights in the Supreme Court.

Here is what I think of the petitioners:

1) Christian Church Coalitions - Really? I can only give you a fair hearing when you actually punish those members of your clergy who were caught molesting little children. Until then, how about shuting the fuck up on morality? KThanksbai.

2) Three Muslim NGOs - Is having just a single partner the thing you have a problem with? Because, really, I'd expect polygamists to be a little sheepish (Sheep, Also!) about criticizing other people's sexual habits?

3) Hindu Astrologers - Yeah, I'd take you seriously if you'd be able to predict ONE fucking thing correctly. Or that you could see that punch in your fucking face that's in your future!

4) Police Officer NGO - This is the same guy who appeared on tv last year and wanted to have sex with a female dog. And somehow, kept calling his wife a bitch? Confused!

5) Environmentalist - Dude, firstly no one is having buttsex with teh environment. I hope you realize that if it wasn't for Lesbians, there would be no environment to save. Also, I don't have documents to prove it right now, but Mother Earth is probably a big ol' lez too.

Now, here are some of the arguments that are being presented:

Chairman of the Jammu and Kashmir Panthers Party, Prof Bhim Singh, said in his petition that the Delhi High Court ruling would be "a disaster for the Indian defence forces and the security of the country… in deserted areas".

"Seedlings of homosexuality developed among the (European and US) soldiers during the first and the second world war when they had to stay back in the forests and the hills for years without having any access to meet their sexual desires," said Singh, whose party otherwise fights for the reorganisation of J&K.

Yeah, I know!!

Where do I even begin with this guy? So I'm not gonna even try!

But I'm sure he's pulling his arguments out of his own deserted area!

"My challenge of the (Delhi) high court judgement is that it should not have relied on foreign judgements," said Mushtaq Ahmed, counsel for Mumbai's Raza Academy, a 32-year-old Islamic advocacy group. "We can't impose a foreign cultural morality today."

Hey, dude from whatever academy, let's go on a little tour. Thousands of years ago, when India had only one religion and everything was considered Hinduism (Jainism, Buddhism etc.), and everyone had sex with everyone else (it wasn't the land of the Kama Sutra for nothing!) and then some weird people wanted land and money and shit and so they invaded this county and along with themselves brought their religion(s) and their own morality. So, India had homosexuality much before it had Islam or Christianity or mughlai food. Therefore, using your own logic, I could say, STOP TRYING TO IMPOSE YOUR FOREIGN MORALITY ON US!! But, I'm not going to do that. Cause I ain't no uneducated bigot moron who doesn't know what the frack he's talking about! Because, two can play the same game. I just choose not to.

Yeah, so these are the people we're up against.

They shouldn't be out there presenting arguments for a case, they should be institutionalised, or have their own show on Fox News. These people can't string together a coherent sentence, let alone justify their bigotry.

Most of our judges know better than that and this makes me hopeful that the Supreme Court will come out on the side of equal rights too!

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Blog protocol requires that I put the word 'random' somewhere in the title . . .

. . . but fuck blog protocol (I really need to start using another profanity. I'm not Kathy Griffin at NYE, for crying out loud).

I finally sat through When Harry met Sally and saw it at one go. *Spoiler Alert* - They do end up together. Whoopti-fucking-do. Damn straight people. They have it so easy. All they need to is to start hating someone and voila!, they end up spending the rest of their life with that person. Why in the blue hell do gay people love this movie? I guess that's because all of us need some sort of myth to believe in. Like Brangelina. Or the secret of the universe hidden inside Lady Gaga's magic peen.

* * *

Speaking of stupid things people believe in, is it me or everyone is getting married this season? About four different sets people I went to school with choose to spend eternity with each other's cooties. Some were even younger than I am.

I usually try to avoid weddings like the plague that they are, but since a few of these people were my drinking buddies and a few of them might be useful for a few (future) cheap laughs, I sorta went along.

Everybody had an average of four large dinner parties. I can never understand why people have so many do's when they are getting married. It's like their telling the world, We're going to spend the rest of our forlorn miserable existence together. We would like you and everybody else we know to believe that we are good, monogamous people, even though one of us looks like a whore. So come celebrate with us and stuff yourself with so much food that you need to loosen your belt buckle. Also, we make so much money that we can afford to feed a thousand people some pseudo-exotic fruit which, let's pretend, came from some exotic country. Now shut your pie hole and eat something.

If I were straight, I would have actually run off and got married in Vegas or something. But hey, it's your money. If you want to spend it feeding more than a thousand ungrateful souls, half of whom are jealous and the other half just pretending to like you, then please go ahead. Who am I to judge?

Although, I did get to meet some people I went to school with and laugh at their sad little existence. One of them had a really nice and interesting wife. If I wasn't so gay, I would've hit that. Too bad she's married to that insufferable old coot. I'm pretty sure she's going to become a cougar in twenty years.

* * *

I think I might have a small crush on the Baskin Robbins delivery guy. Well, at least that explains the freezer full of uneaten tubs of ice-cream in this arctic winter we've been having. They really DO have 31 flavours, ya know? Pretty neat. Coming back to the guy, he's smart, educated and does not take any tips. It's against "company policy". Geez. What a dork! Just take the money and drop your pants, you fool.

Sigh. Porn movies make it look so easy. (Not that I would know. I heard it from one of my ..ummm.. friends.)

Why does the sort-of-romantic part of my life always involve food in one way or the other? I think I have issues. Freud would have a field day. Thankfully, that mofo is dead.

No, I don't know anything about psychology. I accidentally read up on him a few years ago on wikipedia while I was aimlessly surfing the interwebs.

I was at work at that time. What else was I supposed to do?

* * *

Friday, January 1, 2010

This is what happens when you listen to Alanis Morissete while you are high!

I'm probably going to gain more weight than I lose, for the rest of the year I'm probably going to be be feeling like that person who goes to pick someone up at the airport and waits till all the passengers depart only to find out that the person he was waiting for did not even board the plane and I'm probably going to have my last remaining hopes and dreams crushed by reality . . .

. . . but you know what?

Fuck being a jaded cynical asshole.

Fuck having zero expectations from life.

Fuck not trying to look for happiness in material things.

Fuck reality.

Fuck not trying to fill that void with alcohol and great food.

Fuck not trying to be suspicious of people who are nice to you for no reason.

Fuck trying to connect with people with whom the only things to talk about happened a decade ago.

Fuck worrying about the past or the future.

Fuck second guessing yourself.

Fuck being a curmudgeonly old pessimist.

What I mean to say is,