Confessions of a Rambunctious WhipperSnapper

Somebody that I used to know

2011-11-15T10:23:00.001-08:00

That awkward moment when you cannot spend even ten minutes without getting bored talking to someone with whom you could at one time have had a conversation for an eternity.

You’ve come a long way, baby!

2011-03-09T08:29:00.001-08:00

It has been bought to my notice that lately, this blog has been focussing a lot on Winter. I hadn’t really noticed. Although, to be fair, I don’t notice many things. Once, when I was a kid, I didn’t notice that an actual monkey was biting my hand. I only realized that when all the other kids started running away from me. Hey, don’t blame me. It was my birthday, and all I could think about was cake.

As it was obvious from my last post, Winter isn’t a huge part of my life anymore. Not that he was for a long time. But I could only write about it once I was over it. I did spend a few months sequestered from the rest of the world trying to get over him last year (how is that different from my usual sequestering? Well, firstly, I had a beard. No, not a fake girlfriend, an actual beard. I KNOW! Secondly, lots of baths were avoided! HEY, I WAS AN EMOTIONAL WRECK, I WAS ALLOWED TO SMELL LIKE A HOBO. And, thirdly, needless to say, there was lots of food involved. Lots and lots of it. Hey, wait a minute, you’re right. That is no different from my usual sequestering. Sigh.).

However, I’m still glad it happened. For one, my unrequited feelings were wasted on a gay guy! So, PROGRESS! I also learnt what all not to do when you’re trying to date someone. Previously, before I came out, whenever I had a crush on someone, I used to get really douchey around them. Like belittle their life choices, roll my eyes at their hilarious joke and generally make them feel small and unwanted. Granted, I still do that to everybody, but this was with an extra zing. Like putting chilli flakes on your jalapeno dip, if you know what I mean.

Thanks to Winter, I am not a total nervous wreck around new, potential mates [Tip #1: DON’T CALL THEM THAT TO THEIR FACE. SEE, I’M LEARNING!]. Not that there have been many opportunities. As if being fat wasn’t enough of an albatross around my neck, I am also jobless and have cheeto breath. Strangely, that is not what a lot of people are looking for! Even freaks avoid me!

Winter probably deserves some of the credit in my finally leaping out of the closet. When I realized what I felt for him, shit got real. It feels strange to think and talk about now, but it was the first time I actually felt like I was gay. The way I could relate to Winter, I could never ever have that with a woman. Or a straight guy.

I know these things come easy to some people, but when I think back to a time when I was terrified of expressing how I felt about a guy, even to myself and then I remember how nonchalantly I referred to Winter as “babe” in public, I realize how far I’ve come.

I once gave a gay friend a really hard time when he told me that love was not all about sex. I chided him for his naiveté, because I really was that cynical. And then, this whole Winter thing hit me and I realized that it really was not about the sex. I had never been able to connect with someone like I was able to connect with him.

I always used to scoff at all those stupid people in love with their puppy dog eyes and their doing things for each other that they wouldn’t do for anyone else and thinking that every song is about them but ZOMG! I was one of those stupid people with puppy dog eyes walking around assuming that every song was about me and doing things for Winter which I could never imagine doing for another human being!

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I was ….er……umm…cough….ahem…cough.... wrong.

Just don’t tell anybody I said that!

And then we came to an end

2010-12-06T03:50:00.001-08:00

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!

HUH?

When do you leave?

Tomorrow….

100 days of Winter

2010-08-29T16:10:00.001-07:00

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".

MAYDAY!! MAYDAY!!

HOUSTON, WE HAVE A MORON!!

READY FOR LIFT OFF!!

MAYDAY!!

You immediately realize what you've done.

SERIOUSLY, ASSCLOWN, WHO DOES THAT?

ARE YOU HIS AUNT SHOSHANA?

THEN WHY DID YOU JUST OFFER TO BUY HIM A GIFT?

ON A FIRST FUCKING NON-DATE DATE.

THIS IS WHY YOU'RE GOING TO DIE ALONE, SLUMPED OVER A COUCH, WHILE WATCHING 30 ROCK RERUNS AND EATING YESTERDAY’s LEFTOVER FRIED CHICKEN.

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 realize that because THAT'S WHAT NORMAL PEOPLE DO, YOU FUCKING IDIOT.

THAT’S IT. YOU’RE THAT GUY. CONGRATULATIONS!

DO HUMANITY A FAVOUR, GROW A LARGE BEARD, ADOPT A DOZEN CATS AND MOVE INTO A HAUNTED HOUSE ALREADY!

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.

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

2010-07-02T18:21:00.001-07:00

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!

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

2010-05-13T13:19:00.001-07:00

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

*Facepalm*

BUT HE DID NOT SHOW HIS BUTT? HOW CAN HE BE A GAY ICON? THAT’S NOT EVEN CONSISTENT BY YOUR OWN DEFINITION!

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.

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

2010-03-20T10:57:00.001-07:00

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?

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

2010-02-22T23:02:00.001-08:00

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!

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

2010-01-27T06:04:00.001-08:00

. . . 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?

* * *

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

2010-01-01T00:56:00.001-08:00

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,

HAVE A GREAT FUCKING NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!!

xoxo

Let's just leave it at that!

2009-12-24T11:34:00.001-08:00

A week after I came out to my Dad, guess who calls me up?

S-Girl.

Remember her?

Yup.

She called me.

Again.

I had already ignored 9,999 of her previous calls, therefore I decided to pick this one up. What can I say? I'm nice like that, sometimes.

So we chat for five minutes, ignoring the literal elephant in the room (hey, I was looking into the mirror).

She then declared that she wanted to meet.

I immediately regretted picking up her call. I just spoke to her after a long time of ignoring her calls, and now she wanted to meet? I then realized that this is a woman who has no sense of boundaries at all. The memory of all the really horrible things she had told me about herself a few years ago came puking back.

She clearly told me that if I did not meet her she would stand outside my house and shout out cuss words in victorian english, so I was left with no choice but to meet her. Although, to be safe, I asked her to meet me in my family home, so that there would be witnesses just in case things got a little bit out of hand. I'm smart like that, sometimes.

Anyways, time passes too fast, the metaphorical clock ticks away to five, and I ask my Mom to make sure that my precious books are distributed according to the list I have prepared, just in case I am unable to "survive" this meeting. Of course, my Mom thought I was just being a tad melodramatic. I guess I can't blame her for that. I am the same person, who, a few months ago forced her get rid of half the plants in her garden because I felt like they were too judgemental. It might sound a little crazy, but under circumstances will I be judged in my own home. At least not by those green, freeloading basteds.

Right. Moving on.

The bell rings, I pray to the almost empty bottle of Vodka on the table to keep me out of harm's way, and then I go to open the door to meet her.

Okay, fine. I didn't exactly open the door myself, I might have 'politely' asked someone from the household help to do it, just in case she was carrying a weapon. Hey, they're poor and they live in a third world country. Their lives are probably less valuable.

So let's not lose focus here, people.

After the door is opened, S-Girl enters the house. She has the aura of a lame serial killer from a Dan Brown novel. We sit down, she makes small talk. I continue to nod constantly, while also trying to be alert enough to watch out for any sudden movements.

The conversation keeps moving while my pea sized heart tries to exit via my mouth.

S Girl: You know, we really should finish what we started a few years ago.
Me: What?
S Girl: *head tilt* You know what I'm talking about . . .
Me: No, I have no idea. I have trouble remembering things. I drink a lot, remember?
S Girl: (Moving closer) Let me remind you then . . .
Me: (getting up) I'M mmmmmm GAYYYYYY . . . VERY GAY . . . . GAYER THAN A HUGH GRANT MOVIE . . .
S Girl: What?????????
Me: Yes. I'm gay. I like boys. Not girls. Don't like girls. I mean, I like girls, but just not in that way.
S Girl: But . . . how can you be gay? . . .
S Girl: Look at you . . . you're wearing Reeboks with corduroy jeans? What's up with that?
Me: Well, I haven't entered the being fabulous phase yet.
Me: Still working on that.
S Girl: Seriously? I hope so, for your sake.
S Girl: Only redneck farmers and 90 year old Belgian grandmothers are allowed to have so much facial hair.
S Girl: Also, that tub of lard needs to go.
Me: Hey, I just haven't shaved in a while.
Me: And that's not a tub of lard, bitch. That's my stomach.
S Girl: Just letting you know stuff, buddy.
Me: Might I remind you that you were the one who was about to KISS ME a few minutes ago?
S Girl: Yeah, but I'm a married Indian woman. I take whatever I can get.
Me: I hate you, you know!
S Girl: Ha. Fine. Tell me something I don't know.
S Girl: So, since when have you known that you're a pole smoker?
Me: Offensive, bitch.
Me: And I guess I've known since as long as I can remember.
S Girl: Ummmm, were you gay when we were going out?
Me: We were never 'going out', per se.
S Girl: Well, you know what I mean!
Me: Yeah, okay.
Me: Well, I did know, I guess, but I was deep in denial at that time.
Me: Although, now that I think about it, you probably might have helped me confirm it.
Me: I might have been confused, but after our whole thing, I was pretty damn sure I was a 'mo.
Me: Don't wanna be rude, but you might have even turned me . . . hahaha
S Girl: *Looks like a piñata got stuck up her cervix*
S Girl: WHAT. DID. YOU. MEAN. BY. THAT?
Me: Just a joke. Kidding. I had a drink during lunch. Lighten up. Take a deep breath.
Me: Cookie?
S Girl: So you're definitely gay?
Me: Yup. I am. Thankfully.
S Girl: Yeah. Sure. What a "loss" to straight woman. Boo fucking hoo.
Me: Yeah, that's rich, coming from a desperate housewife.
S Girl: Touché.
Me: Thank you, madam.
S Girl: So you like boys, huh?
Me: Yeah.
S Girl: Then stay away from my husband. *stupid grin* hahahaha
Me: Please, even if he is the last man on earth, I'd never hit on that sad little fucker.
S Girl: WHY? what's wrong with him?
Me: Errrrr, nothing.
S Girl: Is it the hair? Or the moustache? Or the mole?
Me: NOTHING. He seems like a nice guy.
S Girl: It's the hair isn't it?
S Girl: Or is the way he talks?
Me: Okayyyyy. Let's just leave it at that, please? Great. Thank you.
Me: So the weather is being such a bitch, isn't it?
S Girl: Is it because of the way he laughs? Does it makes you want to join a cult, too?
Me: So have you read Wolf Hall yet? I'm hearing good things about it.
S Girl: Why wouldn't you want to do my husband?
Me: Cause he is your frikin husband!! Does that mean anything to YOU?
S Girl: Meh. He's probably gay, anyway.
Me: EXCUSE ME??
Me: WHAT??
S Girl: Nothing.
S Girl: I think I'd better leave.
Me: Yeah. That would be for the best.

(Then I went to see her off, so as to make sure she doesn't come back)

Me: So this was fun.
S Girl: *Silence*
Me: Nice catching up with you.
S Girl: (gets into car)
Me: We should do this again sometime.
S Girl: (closes door, starts engine)
Me: Give my best to your husband.
S Girl: (speeds away, hopefully never to be seen again!)

Do you think I might have touched a nerve, somewhere?

Even if I did, well, she started it.

. . . One huge step for Whippersnapperkind Part 2

2009-11-06T01:30:00.001-08:00

I never thought this day would come so soon. I had promised myself not to end 2009 without telling my Dad, but I spent most of the year ignoring that.

However, for the past month, I've had this intense feeling in the pit of my stomach (that's where my brain is I think. What can I say? I'm a medical marvel!) that I need to come out to my Dad.

This past week, I had almost come out to him but I didn't because he had some stuff going on with his sister. I thought I would wait for the right time. But, then I figured that it would never be a right time and that I would just have to bite the bullet and tell him the truth.

So day before yesterday, I decided that it was D-day. I gave my Mom a heads up, and then waited for my Dad to come home from his office.

Me: Dad, I need to talk to you.
Dad: Okay.

We head to my room.

Me: Dad, there is something important I need to tell you.
Dad: Wait, let me guess, your girlfriend's pregnant.
Me: No, Dad. I don't have a girlfriend.
Dad: So your ex-girlfriend's pregnant?
Me: No, Dad, no one's pregnant.
Dad: So you've been offered a job.
Me: No, Dad. No one's that crazy. Or that desperate.
Dad: Don't say that. There are lots of people like that out there. At least I hope.
Me: Okay, Dad I can't keep having this conversation again and again.
Me: I'm not looking for a job.
Me: Now, can we move on?
Dad: Sigh. Yeah, sure.
Me: Dad, I need to tell you something which I have been keeping secret for a long time.
Dad: Is this about that time you and your friends were almost caught by the police for being underage and drinking in your car and you bribed your way out of it?
Me: You knew about that?
Dad: Pretty much.
Dad: Your friends Dad had called me and told me about it.
Me: Uh-ok.
Dad: What do you think the great lecture of '98 was all about?
Me: Okay, so that was what you were talking about when you said that I wouldn't be able to "bribe my way out of everything and that I need to stop fooling around like that".
Dad: Yeah, what did you think I was talking about?
Me: Oh, I thought you were talking about when I tried to smuggle my mathematics answer sheet out of the classroom because I didn't know the answer to any question.
Dad: You tried to do what?
Me: Ahem. Nothing. Can we move on now?
Me: And will you please stop guessing?
Dad: Okay, what is it you want to tell me?
Me: *Silence*
Dad: Yeah, go on . . .
Me: *Silence*
Dad: If you don't speak now I'll start guessing again . . .
Me: Okay, Dad, this is not easy for me to say what I was going to say.
Dad: Did you "forget" to pay your credit card bill again, for six months?
Me: No, Dad, there is something else.
Dad: Then, do me a favour and tell me what's on your mind.
Me: Okay . . . . Dad . . . . . . I, ummmmm, don't like, mmmmmmmmmmmm
Dad: You don't like what?
Me: Dad, I don't like girls.
Dad: What do you mean?
Dad: Do you like boys, then?
Me: Yeah, sort off.
Dad: That's sad.
Me: In what sense?
Dad: You do know this is a disease, right?
Me: What, being gay?
Dad: Yeah.
Me: What are you talking about, Dad?
Dad: Well, you should see a psychiatrist.
Me: Look, Dad, I'm not asking you for advice.
Me: It's how I was born.
Me: I could have gone my whole life without telling you and there was no way you could have found out.
Me: I'm not asking for your blessing or anything. I'm basically telling you that this is how it is.
Me: And I would expect someone as educated as you to keep an open mind.
Dad: See, I'm not forcing you to do anything. Just giving you my opinion.
Dad: It's your life, and your choice.
Me: Thanks.
Me: If you feel ashamed of me, I will move out in a few months or whenever I get a job.
Dad: You really don't need to do that.
Me: What, get a job?
Dad: No, move out.
Me: Oh, it's good that you said that. I wasn't gonna move out anyway and it would have been really awkward ...... for you.
Dad: *no reaction*
Me: So I guess we're not ready to joke about it yet.
Dad: *Gets up to leave*
Me: begin sarcastic tone\ Sorry for being such a disappointment. /end sarcastic tone
Dad: *Opens door to leave, looks back* No, there is nothing like that.
Me: *shrugs*

It wasn't as bad as I expected. He didn't shout or say anything really mean. And he was probably shocked, to say the least. But I am glad I told him. It was time. Even though I think he wishes that I rather had a pregnant girlfriend, I think it's going to be fine.

He's going to do what he usually does when I take decisions which he does not agree with (basically, ALL of them). a) Sulk b) Blame my Mom for "encouraging" me c) Fire someone in his office d) Begrudgingly get on board Team Ramby.

It took me such a long time. It's only fair I let him take his.

Anyways, the important thing is that now, there would be no more secrets. No more half-truths. No more use of ambiguous words like "partner", "fellow-human" and "casual friend".

I guess the truth does set you free!

Hallelujah!

Although, I still am never going to tell him what really happened to his car in January 1996. That secret is going with me to the grave. Or whatever weird vegan ceremony I'm going to have when I finally log out and pass on to the big blogosphere in the sky.

One small step for man, one huge step for Whippersnapperkind

2009-11-04T06:48:00.001-08:00

I just came out to my Dad.

It happened like 10 or 15 minutes ago.

He wasn't happy about it, but he still reacted much better than I expected.

I am still shaking.

Will be back when I can write more coherently.

It's different!

2009-08-09T08:10:00.001-07:00

The other day, I was reading an article written by a famous right-wing journalist who is famous for being a right-wing journalist, in which he said that he is okay with "tolerating" gay people but he thinks that it was wrong of the high court to equate hetereosexual and homosexual relationships.

Now, at that point of time, I obviously disagreed with him.

However, yesterday after reading this post here and this article here, I sort of had an #epiphany. (Sorry about the "#", I've been really using twitter a little too much. I know, I'm addicted. #snapperfail. Sheesh.)

I seem to have changed my mind.

I think equating gay relationships and straight relationships is wrong. They are not the same.

Why do I say that?

Well, the answer dawned on me after huge amounts of generalising, stereotyping, pseudo-scientific analysing, hypotheticalising (I know that's not even a word. But let's just pretend that it is. There is a word for arbitrarily pretending something is true for the sake of argument. I just can't think of it right now.) and assuming my ass off.

Now, we know that most men in our country are bought up with a huge dose of entitlement. Since the day they are born, they are taught that they always get first dibs on everything because they can pee standing up. Now the mothers spend the rest of their lives blaming other people for her son's mistakes, while the fathers spend the rest of their life blaming the mother for the extreme love and affection that they showered their son with. Yes, if there was an Olympic competition for cognitive dissonance, then most Indian parents would qualify for the gold medal.

Alternatively, Indian girls are made to realize that everyone frowns around them because daddy wanted a little boy and mommy wanted a little boy and granny also wanted a little boy. And no one really cares what grandpa wants because grandpa is 80 and delusional and sharts all the time.

So after such a warm welcome, while the girls are growing up it is drilled into their heads that they really are second class citizens and were sent to this earth to cook, clean and put out whenever their husband wants to fall asleep on top of them.

And then when both of them grow up, then they are paired with each other and spend the rest of their lives resenting each other and each other's parents. And when things get really bad, they have kids. Because that's the solution to every problem in a marriage.

Now, this is where gay relationships are a little different.

Usually when gay people set out to find the person they want to have a relationship with, they aren't actually looking to fulfil the position of "house_maid" or "income_generator". They aren't looking for a "smart, fair, homely girl who can make three chappitis per minute" or a "thin, fair handsome man who makes income in excess of six figures and has been to different countries like New York and the USA".

Gay people usually seek out a relationship based on trust, love for each other, mutual respect and because both of them cry towards the end of When Harry met Sally.

So, yes, Mr Right-wing journalist, gay relationships are different from straight relationships.

Thank God for that.

The truth about Cats, Dogs and Married people

2009-07-25T00:47:00.001-07:00

Usually, I am a very tolerant person. I accept people for who they are.

However, since I am not one of those politically correct people the liberal media wants me to be, I am going to speak out against certain kinds of people without fear of any repercussions because if I don't the big homo in the sky would never forgive me. Or worse, he wouldn't let anyone of those hunky angels blow me!

The people I want to talk about are everywhere. They could be your friend. Or a co-worker. Or the guy you once worked with who refuses to stop sending you really bad forwarded emails.

These people are very smart. And shrewd. They pretend to be your friend, but in fact they have an agenda on their mind.

That's right.

They want to make the rest of the world believe that theirs is the righteous path. The ONLY path.

These people start when brainwashing you from the day you are born. They catch 'em young. And they don't leave you alone until you become one of them.

They never leave you alone.

You see them everywhere.

You read about them in books & magazines. Or see them in the movies and on television.

They even have their own genre of movies.

They shamefully continue to wave their decadent lifestyle in your face, without any care in the world.

You know who I am talking about.

Married people.

These people are just like the common vermin. They are present everywhere.

You just can't get away from them.

Yesterday, one of these people came to the dwelling I share with the rest of my blood relatives. This woman insisted on telling us about her recent "marriage" and her "husband" and the satanic rituals that were performed to give their relationship a little shred of legitimacy. She then tried to poison my mind by trying to convince me to be like her. To find a suitable fair maiden and perform such rituals with her. She tried to emotionally blackmail me by telling me that my parents want this to happen but are reluctant to discuss it with me, because they know of my beliefs. I said to her "O, Woman who sees my parents every six hundred days, you know not what you talk about. You and your ilk are nothing but glorified maidservants to the man you claim to share an eternal bond with. Now, begone, stupid woman. And don't show your face here again otherwise the wrath of homoerectous will be upon you". The woman looked at me with tears of thankfulness in her eyes and scurried out of our dwelling and out of our lives. At least for another couple of years.

Then, John, my friend from school, recently called me using those telephonic instruments to tell me that most of the people we went to school with are either married or engaged. While I started to make fun of all those crumbling to peer pressure and entering into such unholy unions, I heard a sigh on the other end of the phone.

What I was about to hear would shatter my belief in friendship forever.

My so called friend said that he agreed with the vermin. He said that he too would join their ranks in about an year or two. He also said that his bride would be chosen by his father and mother.

Oh, the horror!

Holy St. Adam Lambert, such cruel travesty!

I thought he was my friend. How could he betray me like that? All these years, I thought he would be strong enough and not be susceptible to the pleasures of the having a woman make him breakfast every morning while he leaves for the office. And have her make the food of his choice every evening while he returns from office after a hard day's work. And the ugliness of leaving your seed into another human being so that it turns into fungus which in nine months turns into another pod for the vermin to spread their beliefs with.

How unnatural!

To think I might have even promoted him to becoming my BFF!

The mere thought makes my skin crawl all over.

As the Holy book of Will & Grace tells us through Jack 3:16, "Man shall not lie with woman as man lies with man. Man shall only lie with woman in case they are stuck in a real bad snowstorm and the only way to survive is too suck face with each other. Otherwise, man can only go to town on another man".

Of course these married people go to heaven. Heaven is full of such other depraved souls. They roam the streets of heaven looking for the soul of the one whose face they woke up to every sad day of their lives. Then they are entwined with them for eternity. Or course that will only last until Hugh Hefner reaches there and starts printing heaven porn. Then all hell will break lose.

Speaking of hell, it is nothing but a paradise. A paradise where no man is fat. No man is ugly. A place where everyone has six packs. A netherworld filled with nothing but streams of alcohol and trees of condoms. A place full of bars which play showtunes all day long so the men can dance with each other. It even has large, comfortable bathroom stalls for the men to satisfy each other's carnal needs. And last but not the least, lots and lots of Ikea furniture for the lesbians to sit down on so that they can talk about politics and global warming. In other words, it's even better than Broadway.

So, don't listen to the vermin.

Don't let them convince you that their depraved, sexless existence is the path that leads to happiness.

Just remember, one day the great one will descend from his abode among the stars, and turn everyone into either a top or a bottom and make his favourite ones versatile.

Until then, in the eternal words of Queen George of Whamdoom, just keep on fucking.

The discussion continues . . .

2009-07-05T18:56:00.001-07:00

Over the past week and a half, India has officially come out of the closet. In a nation which still giggles when someone talks about hetero sex or reproductive organs, there were prime time news broadcasts about how "the gays" like to do it doggie style. While ninety year old grandmothers held a detailed discussion about power bottoms, little kids wrote a paper on the history of S&M as represented in popular gay culture as part of their summer assignment.

Although, not everybody is happy with the rainbow flag suddenly spreading all over the subcontinent. There are people who fear that since the Delhi High Court has opened the floodgates, no one will want to love anyone of the opposite sex anymore which will result in decreased male descendants ultimately causing the untimely demise of this young, vibrant nation whose people will then disappear from the face of the earth and take with them their ancient culture, their movies, the secret recipe of Chicken Manchurian and the ability to convince Dell computer owners to buy more RAM modules everytime they call in to report a faulty keyboard. And then China will take over the vast empty wasteland and turn it into a nation of four year old child factory workers making lots and lots of things which they will then export to the United States so that the illegal Mexican workers can sell them to innocent American consumers through the magic of Walmart.

Okay, that's not what is really going to happen, but you would think that it might be a possibility while listening to all the talking heads on TV predicting the end of civilization as we know it unless all the gay people are sent of to Nazi camps.

Are heterosexual people really that fickle? Can you guys flick a switch or something and start doing it with people of the same sex just like that? Do we need to get you drunk or it's the law that's holding you back? I mean, no offense, but no law can make me want to have sex with a woman. The mere thought makes me want to wash my brain out with some nice shampoo, which has the picture of a hot, showering hunk on it's bottle cover. Sorry ladies, but the 'snapper likes him some peckers. You ain't getting any of this, baby!

Also! We have such a large population in this country that while the rest of the world shrivels and dies, we would still have young people around so that their parents can guilt them into becoming over-achievers by the time they pass first grade.

The other day, I happened to catch this old guy who was on a panel discussion about the HC verdict, and was arguing against it. He said that if two men or woman can have sex with each other, then he should be allowed to have sex his bitch in the privacy of his own bedroom. I was shocked. I was like, C'mon, old man, that's no way to talk about your wife. She can't be that bad. I think he needs to learn to respect her, specially on national television. Tut, tut. such a shame. Is there no morality left in this country?

Of course, the most vocal opponents have been the old faithful, the religious wingnuts. Gay people have achieved something that even the great MK Gandhi couldn't achieve. We have managed to get all the crazy religious people on the same side of an argument.

The first if, of course, is the Roman Catholic Church. These people really need a strong does of irony when they give their tried & tested pedophilia argument. That's because there are more pedophiles in the catholic church than in any other community, except of course, a mormon compound. If you want to embarrass a catholic priest, just ask him where the little boys room is!

Then of course, comes the self-appointed Hindu high priests. Well, blah, blah, blah, Kama Sutra. Blah, blah, blah, gay sculptures at Khajrao. Next.

As for the Muslim high priests, who I gotta ask if they have you even heard anyone speak Urdu? It's one of the gayest languages of the world. It was used by poets and writers to express their unrequited and forbidden love for someone whom they could never have. Hate to spoil your party, but who else knows better about unrequited and forbidden love than gay people? We've kind of written the book on wanting people we could never have. Like, wtf, Dude!

So, wingnuts, next time you open your mouth to say something about people who are different, just remember that people who live in glass houses really need to get some curtains. Specially ones which slightly contrast the colour of the room. Maybe a Persian rug to go along with it. Also, the room is best decorated with some antique furniture. If you can't afford antique furniture then you can hire someone who can make cheap trash look classy and elegant.

You can use the same guy Elton John uses to do his his makeup everyday.

India's second tryst with destiny

2009-07-03T08:28:00.001-07:00

I always wondered what it would have been to be an Indian pre-1947. Being born into the country decades after the British had left the country, I always wondered the euphoria the people would have felt at the stroke of the midnight hour on 15 August 1947, when the world slept while India awoke to life and freedom.

Perhaps it is the same feeling that I felt yesterday. While the rest of the country was freed of colonial rule on 15 august 1947, the members of the LGBT community in India was still being treated as second-class citizens in their own country, for simply being who they are.

The judgement of the Delhi High court on 2 July 2009 has finally freed the last section of the population which was still technically under colonial rule. The judgement is historic. It provided hope to millions of people. People who have been persecuted for being who they are. Persecuted for simply wanting to love and be loved. Persecuted for being brave enough to want the rights that were guaranteed to them under the constitution.

Yesterday was India's second tryst with destiny. At the stroke of the afternoon hour, while the world looked on, India awoke to life and freedom, one more time.

The achievement we celebrate today is but a step, an opening of opportunity, to the greater triumphs and achievements that await us. Are we brave enough and wise enough to grasp this opportunity and accept the challenge of the future?

This ruling does not bring with itself social acceptance. There will still be families and friends who disapprove. People will still make still snigger. Nevertheless, the past is over and it is the future that beckons to us now. We have to learn that there will always be people who will discriminate against you because of who you are. Whether it's because of the colour of your skin, your name, your shoe size, the way you style your hair etc.

We don't need acceptance from those people nor we need a "you're moral" character certificate from the "God-hates-you" crowd.

We only need our own acceptance, and the love and support of the people who appreciate us for who we are and not who they would prefer us to be.

Be fabulous. Always.

xoxo

_____________________________________________

(Okay, for those who haven't figured it out yet, this post heavily borrows from Nehru's speech that he gave to the constituent assembly on 15 August 1947. I'm sure he would have wanted to say this. He was one of us, after all. Click here for the original. )

BREAKING: Delhi High Court reads down article 377

2009-07-02T00:04:00.001-07:00

I never thought I would see this day in my lifetime.

I think something happened over the past week. Somehow, the world around us has changed.

This is not the end of the fight, but it's just the beginning. We do have a long way ahead.

However, right now I would like to commend the Delhi High Court for being on the right side of history.

I would also like to express gratitude for everyone who did not lose hope and kept fighting and gave a voice to millions of others.

I'll be back when I can write more coherently.

Cheers, everyone.

Not a Dangerous Thriller

2009-06-26T05:40:00.001-07:00

When I was old enough to have my own room, I sort of inherited it from my elder siblings. They had a variety of posters in their room because I think that's what kids used to do back then. Now, I removed the Samantha Fox and Bruce Sprigsteen posters because staring at a chic in her drawers was never my thing. However, I let one poster stand. It looked exactly like the one pictured above.

Cause I knew who Michael Jackson was before I could even read or write.

There were many pop acts and artists who were the rage when I was growing up. However, no one was as big as Michael Jackson. Most of my good childhood memories have some kind of Jackson song playing in the background.

Whether it was being thrown out of class and being punished because I wrote the lyrics to Black or White instead of my cursive writing assignment . . .

. . . Or playing basketball with Jam blaring from the boombox. (Oh, and the song was a pop culture phenomenon. It had the other MJ, Micheal Jordan and who could miss Kriss Kross!!)

I even remember watching him perform during the Grammy awards (back when they actually meant something) in 1988, on bootleg video of the DD broadcast!

My and my cousins were actually put his performance on repeat and were dancing along.

When I think about it, it seems so lame. At that time we thought were so cool and so funny!

Hey, we didn't have cable TV or the internet. So how was a brother supposed to pass time?

Anyway, some of his songs told me stuff about me which even I didn't know was true!

Seems so ironic now.

Maybe these songs remind me of a time when I wasn't such a cynical, jaded, smartass gasbag. Maybe it's because these songs were our symbol of rebellion, PG-13 style.

Before yesterday, when someone thought of Michael Jackson, it was usually his Wacko Jacko persona.

However, he will be remembered by most people as someone who made great music.

I'd like to say that maybe we will learn from this. Maybe we won't make other children go through the life he went through. Maybe people will finally realize that that fame, celebrity and notoriety is not for everyone. I've read a lot of comments at various places which says that when people become famous, they sign up for the tsunami which is going to change their lives. That it's okay to dehumanise someone because they are rich and famous. Surely there is no schadenfreude behind such a train of thought?

Yes, the jokes and the sleazy tabloid stories will come tomorrow. People will huff and puff for a few minutes while pretend-serious media outlets will cover those stories while their anchors feign outrage all the way to the bank. Even in death, the Michael Jackson story is going to make a lot of people a lot of money.

But today, I'd just like to . . .

R.I.P.

This post does not remember being a post

2009-06-09T11:20:00.001-07:00

Today, early in the morning: (okay, really early in the morning)

*Ring* *Ring* (not actually a ring, but the theme from Mad Men)

Me: Hello

Caller: Hey, watsup . . .

Me: Nothing much really. Long time, eh?

Caller: Yeah, I know . . .

Me: So how's the wife doing?

Caller: She's doing good . . .

Me: . . . When is the baby due?

Caller: What baby?

Me: Er. . . Aren't you guys pregnant?

Caller: No . . .

Me: . . . WHAT HAPPENED?

Caller: We HAD the baby, idiot! That's WHAT happened!

Me: CONGRATULATIONS! When? And why didn't you tell me?

Caller: Last month . . .

Me: LAST MONTH? . . .

Caller: Stop shouting.

Caller: I DID tell you . . .

Caller: . . . And YOU came to visit us in the hospital!!

Me: I did?

Caller: Yes. Twice.

Me: Are you sure?

Caller: Of course I'm sure. It's pretty hard to . . . forget the day your child is born . . .

Me: Yeah, of course.

Caller: . . . . specially because on the first day one of the guards got fired because you wandered in during non-visiting hours . . .

Me: That does sound like something I would do, yeah . . .

Me: . . . however, are you sure that you aren't pulling a prank on me?

Caller: Dude, for the past month I've been knee deep in dirty diapers, I have been dozing off during meetings because I barely get to sleep at night and if I see one more relative wanting to give "good wishes" to my child, I'm going to jump from the terrace.

Caller: So I am hardly in a mood to kid around and pull pranks on someone . . .

Me: Aright . . . chill, don't get so emotional, man . . .

Caller: And since you don't remember, you also gave us a nice gift . . .

Me: Really? I'm so glad you liked whatever I gave you.

Caller: Yeah, even ______ likes it. He plays with it all the time.

Me: You HAD a boy????

Caller: *Click*

What'd I say?

This post has no idea how it got here

2009-05-11T20:39:00.001-07:00

I stopped being technologically relevant quite a few years ago. Technology is a tricky thing. You can only keep up to it till a certain point of time. I remember back in the "day" when I all of us who had invitation-only GMail accounts thought we were the über-geek. We used to laugh at all those with just 5 MB (or was it 2 MB?) Hotmail and Yahoo accounts. "You're not using Gmail yet? Really? I don't know how you survive with measly 2 MB of email space. Okay, if you want it that much, I'll send you an invite". For the record, I barely invited less than a dozen people. Why? Because, well, I'm cheap like that.

Anyways, there is a fine line to going from being the only one in your training class to know the difference between 32-bit and 64-bit operating systems to one day tuning into a gadget-oriented TV show and going "They can do THAT now? Ama-fucking-zing!". One really does not know when that line is passed. Hell, I went from espousing the benefits of peer-to-peer networks to discovering BiTTorrent just late last year. Yes, I know. Shameful. However, thankfully, I have over compensated for that.

Of course, that doesn't imply that I've turned totally helpless. I'm Indian. Most of us are probably born with an embedded chip in our memory. I've seen little kids who haven't yet said their first words but have coded their own iPhone application. Go, figure.

So my almost dead inner geek woke up this morning when I read about this:

[AP Photo]

Screw WiFi and say halo to my little friend. That's right, bitches. It's called MiFi. The Novatel MiFi 2200. (Sounds less like a wireless device and more like a WMD!)

A wireless hotspot in your pocket.

*Obligatory they-can-do-that-now shrug and head shaking*

As you all know, I am kind of obsessed with the internet. And not just check-email-every-half-hour obsessed. No siree Bob. I need to carry it around with me wherever I go, lest the world starts to end and I miss reading about it. If some natural or unnatural event is going to kill me, I would like to either write a post about it beforehand or at least send a tweet. And if I do have some time, update the status on my facebook. Something like "______ is dying of a really strange disease usually only seen in M Night Shyamalan movies".

Currently, my mobile internet requirements are being serviced by my handy GPRS enabled phone. Now GPRS is good and all, but it's only two notches above a late-90's style dial up 56k connection if you're trying to use it on your computer. Although sometimes, it's a lifesaver. Last year, when i had gone to almost-remote hilly town, the only thing connecting me to the virtual world was my trusty GPRS. Granted, sometimes it was so slow that you would have to combine web surfing with other activities like reading a book/watching a sitcom/shooting at the local population.

The sad news is that the MiFi device can only work on 3G networks, so it will take a couple of years before being launched in India. We are just getting started on 3G networks. And right now MTNL is the only company offering it. No offense, but I pity the fool who uses MTNL. It's like wearing a jockstrap two sizes smaller than your actual size. We still get an MTNL bill sometimes even YEARS after getting that connection disconnected.

Not that the private operators are better. Recently, my mobile service provider has converted my unlimited data plan to a limited data plan. And the broadband providers are going to follow suit. Now they are going to put caps on unlimited broadband plans. So, pretty soon, when you sign up for a plan which promises unlimited, uninterrupted internet, you are in fact signing up for a, rarely fast, limited-usage account. It's like using two condoms and still ending up pregnant.

I don't use a WiFi at home. That's because basically, I really can't figure it out. And since I'm cheap, I don't want someone else piggybacking on my internet. OMFG, that makes me sound like one of those people who wanted to tea-bag Obama.

However, I'm still looking forward to the launch of this card.

Why? For the simple reason that then I can watch You Tube videos while sitting on the can!

Oh, joy!

This post has absolutely nothing on it's mind

2009-04-29T21:48:00.001-07:00

Recently, the most common question that I ask everyone is "What day is it today? No, seriously". I actually do lose track of what day, date, month or even what year it is. In fact, I have been using my own personal time standard, in hours are defined by the time left until the next meal and sometimes two, or three "normal" days are clubbed together because I really don't remember them as separate entities anyway.

Not that I am to blame. It happens when one is not gainfully employed. Everyday seems like a Sunday. And not a Sunday in which you know that the next day the grind starts again. No, a Sunday which is followed by another Sunday, which is followed by another Sunday, which in turn is followed by, no prizes for guessing, another Sunday.

So, to me, the past year and a half have been like an extended weekend. (Actually, some people I know would like to call it by a different name, but this is what I've decided upon. An extended weekend. Has a nice ring to it doesn't it? Hi, I'm on an extended weekend. What? Oh, that's part of my work actually. Yes, I specialize in extending weekends. It's a inborn talent, really. No, I don't have any branches. Yet.)

However, there is one thing that even someone as clueless & as intoxicated as me can notice.

I've come to realize that people treat those who are gainfully employed and those who take extended weekends which last more than a year, a tad bit differently. I know. Outrageous, isn't it?

I vividly remember the days when I used to work. By work, I mean laughing at every stupid forward people send and exploring wikipedia for useless trivia (Did you know Mata Hari was actually not a really good spy? Yup. Surprising isn't it? There is so much useless trivia out there, and so little time. Sigh. Also, it only sounds interesting when you are being paid to do something else. Otherwise, who really cares. Pshaw!)

It turns out that a job is like an ass. Everyone seems to have them.

So when you answer the question "So, what are you doing these days?" with the ominous word "Nothing", most people react in a very predictable way.

First, comes the indignation.

"What do you mean by nothing? So you actually aren't doing anything? Nothing AT ALL? Are you crazy?!"

Then comes the surprise.

"Why? What happened? You were doing so well! Are you crazy?"

Then, the weight of the information they have been provided with begins to settle in and a pattern seems to emerge.

"So you're sitting at home? Voluntarily? Why? Are you crazy?"

Then comes the search for plausible excuses.

"Are you sick? No?"

"Are you trying to lose weight? No?"

"Are you studying? No?"

"Are you helping out your family with the business? No?"

Then comes the slight tilt of the head and the first step towards the road of acceptance.

"Awwww. Oh! I'm sure you deserve it. I remember you used to be working so hard".

"Good for you".

"I would never have the guts to do something like this".

Then come the suggestions.

"If you're not busy, you should help out your family with the business".

"If you're not busy, you should study more and add to your resume".

"If you're not busy, you should try losing weight".

"If you're not busy, you should try writing a blog".

"If you're not busy, you should help my son get his wife pregnant".

Then comes the show of fake support along with a huge effort made in trying to encapsulate the overwhelming feeling of jealousy along with a naked attempt to try to make me feel like a loser.

"So you're staying home for the past year doing nothing? So you're doing NOTHING? How do you pass your day?"

"I would go bananas if I had to spend even a day doing nothing! Haha! How do you do it?"

"Aren't you yearning to go back to work?"

"You would have been an ________ by now if you hadn't left your job!"

"What's a blog?"

Then comes what I lovingly call the insane reasoning portion of the evening.

"This is not an age to take a break at. One should only take a break when one's sixty".

"Don't you want to get married?"

"You have to do something. Everyone does something or the other. You can't just sit at home".

"Don't you want to get married and give your parents a few grandchildren to play with?"

"You'll start losing the use of your mental faculties if you keep doing nothing for a long period of time. Stop laughing. It's true. I've seen it happen".

"No one does what they really want to do. So go back to work and get married. It's high time you got settled".

That sums up the conversation with 95% of the people.

One of the things about being jobless is that the "different" treatment you get from people. Suddenly, people find it really awkward to talk to me. And my opinion just does not hold the same value for them as it used to before. People really don't know how to start a conversation with me anymore. And there are so many topics they try to steer clear from. Things they presume that I would get offended by.

We are so used to identifying and associating people with what kind of work they do that it's really hard for us to look beyond that. Even when we introduce ourselves to other people, in most cases, the first thing that really comes out after our names is our occupation or whatever we do for a living. Because even personally, that's our yardstick for defining who we are. I used to do that too. But my "extended weekend" has made me realize that whatever job or line of work you do doesn't have to define who you are. We are so obsessed with titles, positions, the whole concept of "making a name for yourself" that we let it take over our lives. People define success not by how happy they are but by how many weekends they spend replying to work emails on their blackberry. It's in trying to "be somebody" that we lose track of who we really are. I know that because I did.

I'm not trying to knock anyone here. As they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

I, for one, love being treated like a pariah. A few of my friends and some assorted family friends have tried to "turn me around" and "talk some sense into me" but most of the time, they end up projecting. It's funny how the same people who used to tell my parents that they were "so proud" of me, now avoid me like the bubonic plague, even using me as an example of explaining to their children on how not to do things. The general consensus seems to be that I've lost it and that this is more evidence that I am a "spoiled" brat. Well, not that there is anything wrong with that. However, as always, I'm too drunk too care. I don't give a flying f@ck about what these people think anyway!

Yeah, almost everyone treats me differently. Even God. He answers all my prayers with "I'll get to you in a minute, asshole". To be fair, all of my prayers revolve around food and sex. And I guess God thinks that you can only have one of them at a time.

*Chomp Chomp*

Is he trying to tell me something?

This post has died and gone to Costa Rica

2009-04-03T09:08:00.001-07:00

Recently, a few people I sort of knew have been visited by the grim reaper.

I only attended the funeral of one of them. Because I only go to funerals of people with whom I have some sort of emotional attachment. Or if people I know have some sort of emotional attachment to the deceased. If I wanted to see people pretend to cry for no reason I would watch a woman-oriented film.

It's really revealing to see human nature at one of these things. The ability of the human race to be self-involved does not seem to surprise me.

At the funeral I attended, one of the "mourners" thought it was appropriate to inform me that obesity will kill me one day and tell me that she had recently completed a course and was now a practicing dietician. It's good she did not do a course in reading faces otherwise she would have known that at that very moment, I wanted her to drop dead.

The velocity at which people tend to move on is surprising. The speed at which they can turn their conversation from politics to how attached they are to the deceased and then to how the new pocket car from the TATA's is going to clog the already clogged streets of Delhi is mind boggling.

Not that I am above the fray. When the first of the deaths happened, the first question that came into my mind was, "Do I make fun of him anymore?". Just because someone has passed away does not mean that they suddenly turn into a saint? We can still laugh at their expense, can't we? Nobody turns around and remembers Hitler fondly just because he's dead? No one really wants to build temples dedicated to Attila the Hun, do they? Has anyone tried to bring Lenin back to life have they? Well, actually, after they bought Dick Cheney back to life, they kind of ended the research on trying to bring back monsters to life.

I was also appalled by all the customs that need to be followed when someone dies. I find them really perverse. Our ancestors must have been crazy & heartless sumbitches to come up with such crazy shit.

Strangely, one thing common to all those people who have passed away is that they were sort of senile. Now, personally, I would not want to live that long. And I would not want to die like that.

My death should be sudden. Like one minute I'm insulting somebody and the next minute I fall down on the floor while hitting my head on some piece of furniture which is modern & edgy. Also, I don't want any blood cause I hate to spill anything on my shirt. And red kind of clashes with black.

I imagine that when they carry my fat carcass to cremate, I might break the edifice and fall down and go rolling down the cliff. Note to self: Stay away from places which are near a cliff. That's one of the reasons I would prefer to be electronically cremated. That and because I'm allergic to smoke. I wouldn't want to add to global warming. I believe once you're dead, it's a good time to think about the environment.

And instead of having a priest read out some mumbo-jumbo in a language no one really understands, I would like a stand-up comedian to perform. Preferably someone who is funny. And has appeared on The Tonight Show at least twice.

That's because I might be dead, but I still got standards to maintain, you know?

This post has so much to give that it's almost bursting at the seams

2009-03-10T00:08:00.000-07:00

Sometimes one feels so insignificant. You know, somedays you realize that there is so much happening out there. That there is so much more to life than random snarky observations about pop-culture.

A few hours ago, I got the feeling that I am not the center of the universe. Of course, then I come to my senses and realize that it can't be true. Everyone knows that's not even possible. Silly me!!

Sometimes I feel that I am missing out. That I should go out and see the world. Travel or something. But then, if I have to go somewhere I kind of need to pack my whole room and take it with me. I absolutely cannot sleep without my favorite pillow. And I can never decide which books to take along. it's so difficult. It's like choosing between your children. Hell, I think it's tougher. Choosing between children is easy. You choose the one who has the most potential for making money. Ignore the others. Or put those losers up for adoption. I'm sure Angelina Jolie or the Octo-Mom would want them.

Then I feel that I should try to do something for other people.

Yeah, I know. I can't even type that with a straight face.

No, seriously. I feel that I have so much to give, specially free advice. I think that I should join an NGO or something and lobby for political change. Although, when I think about it, I would never know what to wear to such a shindig. I'll be left wondering whether I need to color coordinate? Or do I go with black? Or should go ethnic or try the whole retro reporter look? I can never answer such questions. Dammit. There should be a course for such stuff. Or at least a wikipedia entry.

Then I thought I should teach the illiterate. Try to educate them. Teach them something and make a difference in their lives. However, I nipped this plan in the bud. Cause as I remember from my time in school when we were ~~forced by our goody-two-shoes Headmaster~~ er... lightly persuaded to teach poor children, illiterate people have a tendency to stink. Although I still don't understand why the other volunteers were flabbergasted when I kept using a room freshener during my class.

But then I realized that I already do too much volunteering. For example, I have joined over two groups on facebook which purport to bring like-minded people together so that they can post on each other's wall. What more can one do, really?

So I then thought that I should try to give back to my family. Although I strongly feel that my presence is blessing enough. Still, I thought I would help my Dad or Bro with their business. So I asked them if any of them needed an intelligent and hard working person to come work for them. They said sure and they also told me that if I knew such a person I should introduce him or her to either of them. When I said I was talking about me, there was complete shock, followed by awkward silence while everyone exchanged glances, and then after a break of a few seconds there was loud, uncontrollable, bringing-down-the-roof laughter.

This is what I get for trying to be helpful. And just because last time I went to their office and I mistook one of their managers for the driver and told him to get my car doesn't mean I would do that again. You only make a mistake like that twice. And in my defense, he was wearing a safari suit. How good a manger would he be?

Anyhoo, of they don't want me, I will take my talents elsewhere. Somewhere I am wanted and appreciated.

There has got to be someone who would pay top dollar/euro/rupee/monopoly money for someone like me. I have so much to give. And so much to share.

I can tell people exactly what's wrong with their life, just by looking at their face. Even if they didn't ask for my advice. So what if I may get it wrong sometimes, or I might have inadvertently started a family feud which might last a generation or two. You win some, you lose some.

I can also identify both the Simpson sisters. Jessica is the one who looks like a cow and was married to that gay boyband singer and Ashlee is the one who looks like a cross between Nicole Richie and Amy Winehouse and is currently married to that gay emo band singer.

Also, I once judged a book by it's cover. And I was right.

Maybe I should get one of those gigs in which I can buy nice looking stationary and get a really cool business card and tell people that I'm a "consultant". Or maybe a "freelance brain trust". Something which sounds new economy-ish and does not incite any questions.

Or maybe I should chill for a while. I've just started to think about it and I'm already tired. I think the best way to go about it would be in small steps.

It worked for Neil Armstrong, dunnit?

This post has no idea where the comments section is

2009-02-15T07:03:00.000-08:00

So I leisurely sipping my morning coffee and trying to stop brooding so as to try to be in a good mood because I woke up early for once. Well, early as per my standards. Other people refer to it as 3 p.m. in the afternoon. Well, you say potato I say pohtato. Anyways, so the bell rings and none of the help or other members of the family are around and I suddenly have to answer it. (Don't worry. Everyone was very regretful later on. They solemnly swear not to abandon me like that again. I was still sleepy. There was so much that could have happened. What if I had hit my head somewhere and died? No one would have been there to hear and chronicle my last words. Which reminds me, I need to add a clause to my will which specifies that no body parts of mine are to be donated after I die. I don't want my eyes to see how poor people live and my liver is so drunk that it has hangovers of it's own. My heart is so tired from working that it wants to retire to the Bahamas and if they cut up and cook my stomach it could feed three small African nations for a week. As for my brain, most of it is just like my love life. Hypothetical.)

So I open the door and it's someone claiming to be the guy who checks the meter for all the water we consume. Now, I presume he's faker because as far as I know, water is a natural resource and one does not need to pay for it unless it's made by Evian and why would we have a meter for something we don't need to pay for?

As I was still in a bad mood and needed to take it out on somebody, I let him enter, made him close the gate behind him and then set my family's dogs after him. Since I am a fair person, (have I ever mentioned that?), I called the dogs back after a few minutes and let this guy him explain himself.

He simply refused to tell me the truth.

Or so I thought.

Turns out, he was telling the truth. I called and checked with my parents. We do pay for water which is not made by Evian.

Who wuda thunk it?

Also, we even have a water meter. Go figure.

So shit happens. Get over it.

After conforming the location with my parents, I took the guy to where the water meter was.

So far so good, right?

Suddenly, this guy turns to me and passes a snide remark about how "my generation" has no idea about a lot of things in the real world.

I was enraged. How dare he accuse me of not knowing how the real world works? Me??

So I lived in a house for quarter of a century and had no idea that we had a water meter. Or that we paid for our water. That does not imply that I am clueless. Not by a long shot.

I know how this world works. I watch Oprah. And once, during a school vacation, I read a back issue of Reader's Digest. What else does one need to run through life, really?

Anyways, at that time, right after he said those words, not only was I furious, I was seething with righteous anger. I was more angry than that poor kid from Vietnam who found out that he was being adopted by Angelina Jolie. To me, this jackass from the water department represented everything that was wrong with this world (fundamentalism, lack of tolerance, bad sitcoms).

So I did what any responsible and mature adult would do in my situation.

I "erroneously" pushed the stool behind him, he fell, and then I "accidentally" let go of dog's leashes, and they "sort of" mauled him. A "little".

Relax. Nothing happened to that guy.

Well, nothing-ish.

He got some bruises and a torn shirt. Serves him right, though.

Since I'm all about being fair and balanced, I had the driver take him to a doctor to get the bruise(s?) checked and I gave him money to buy a new shirt.

See, I did him a favor. The shirt he was wearing looked like it hadn't met any detergent grains in years. Thanks to my timely intervention, the shirt got to have a dignified end.

Of course, then the guy from the water department threatened litigation and my Dad had to send someone to bribe him to keep his mouth shut.

But hey, look on the bright side.

At least now I know where the water meter is.

This post is very Zen about being err...umm... a post!

2009-02-06T04:55:00.000-08:00

So a few days ago I finally went back to my ex-office one last time to finish the paperwork. It was weird to say the least. I didn't even get a chance to steal more stationary. Anyways, I was like Rockstar-ry and pointing and telling people that "Hey, you still haven't used the plastic surgeon I referred you to" or "Hey, you still smell like you haven't taken a bath since Elvis died." And they were all like "Why aren't you dead yet, asshole?".

Ah. I could almost feel the love.

Anyways, I finally managed to get all the paperwork done. It took me almost the whole day because that company had more red tape than a government office in a small Indian town in the hinterlands. And I also managed to visit the place where I spent more time while working than in my actual office, my favorite off campus coffee bar. They still remembered my "the usual" even after one and a half years. I would have cried if I wasn't cringing at the nose mole on the guy taking my order.

So while I was in the office I was looking at the people working there and to tell you the truth I have seen more cheerfulness at a funeral. The atmosphere was as tense as people coming out of the theater after seeing a Guy Ritchie movie. Maybe if I was in the rat race too I would have looked that sad. But thankfully I am not. I'm at the side, sipping big cups of coffee while I make snarky comments about everybody.

What that means is that I'm now OFFICIALLY unemployed. I'm not just a statistic. The best part about it is that I'm okay with it. I haven't had a single panic attack. I've even tried thinking about it while the two minute window of sobriety I had earlier today morning. And I got nothing. Zero. Nada. Zilch. Shunya. For the first time in my life, I am okay with not having a plan for the future. Not that any of my plans ever worked out. The plans I make have the same probability of working out that Paris Hilton has of becoming a nun.

I'm into my second gap year now. If I tell anyone that, they look at me like I've just drunk driven over their daughter's pet pony along with her ninety year old grandmother. So, if anyone asks, I say there are no jobs in the market for people like me (i.e. someone who wants to be paid without being asked to work) and I put the blame on the recession\George Bush\Working woman\China, depending on the person's intellect and political affiliation. It's not because I care about what other people think. It's because it's easier to explain and let's face it, when they offer me their unsincere support, it's quite entertaining.

*******

Last month, two NRI family friends came over to stay at our family home. By family home I mean anywhere in my house but my room. Now usually I don't like NRI family friends because most of them are douchebags in ethnic clothing. Nothing personal, but they pretend to be more white than actual white folks.

Anyways, I kinda got along with these two. Well, at least initially.

Let's call them K and M. I almost liked K until I found out that she is scared of "the gay". Therefore I ignored her for the rest of her visit for obvious reasons. It's not that I don't like to spend time with people who hate me for who I'd like to bore in bed, I already know too many homophobic people. Anyways, this is not about her.

Now, in a totally unprecedented scenario, I really got along with M. We hit of instantly and it was like we've always known each other. So me being me, I cracked a few jokes which kind of implied that I was batting for the homo team. Well, we never actually talked about it but I kind of assumed that she knew. We kept in touch even after she went back home. Yesterday, while we were texting each other, the following conversation happened:

M: hey how goes? I have the snuffles :( ..
Me: Wha hpnd? .... *hugs*
M: sore throat etc, btw I saw luck by chance yday and it's good and farhan akthar is a really good actor
Me: Oh yeah, I so have a crush on Farhan Akhtar!! :P
M: Oh, I can totally see why you have a crush on that one he's a hottie!!

So when I read her message, I realized that I had inadvertently told her. But I didn't come out to her per se, but it was just a given part of the conversation. And there was no regret, no panic attack, no afterthought. Nothing.

The reason why this is important because my gay self has finally been integrated into my sorry personality. They are not two separate entities anymore. No more secret shadowy life. I am not paranoid about people I know finding out. It's those little subtle changes. The other day I went book shopping and I didn't feel conscious picking up a book which talked about same-sex love in India and waving it to my friend on the other side of the crowded shop and showing it to him. Nor did I feel the need to talk to him about gay stuff like we were discussing cold war secrets when we sat in a crowded cafe. I was loud and obnoxious like I am when discussing everything else. In fact, there was this lady on the other table who was listening to our conversation and looking at us with disapproving eyes. I looked straight at her with my second-most angry expression and she turned away and started to disapprove the straight couple cuddling on the table in front of her.

Nowadays, I don't flip windows when someone walks in while I'm reading something "gay" nor do I clean my tracks on my own computer. I don't even stay silent about gay rights in front of people who are conservative, and believe in the the don't-talk-about-anything-related-to-sex doctrine. I know I said I'm comfortable with being gay, but this is a whole new level of oneness with the gay universe for me.

******

Now, in a related story, a few weeks ago, in conversation with one of my friends, I discovered that I'm fine with being 26. I don't get choked up when I'm saying it out loud. I'm not twenty something. I'm twenty fucking six. 26. tWentY SiX.

Saying that does not make me nauseous and giddy and my legs don't feel like they are about to fall off. (Well, that maybe because I stopped filling my Valium prescription from a guy who looks like the son of a deposed Nigerian prince. But still. Bigger picture, people. Bigger picture.)

So I'm okay with being twenty six, fat, single and alone. None of this makes me want to listen to Coldplay the whole day long. Nor do I feel like watching old episodes of Scrubs.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Does this mean what I think it means?

Am I growing up????

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Uh-oh. Suddenly, I don't feel so well.

This post would have gotten beaten up if it had ever gone to a pub

2009-01-31T06:12:00.000-08:00

So almost every politican and their hooch drinking uncle seems to have come out against "pub culture". Yesterday, our most exalted Health Minister said that he is coming up with a policy which will put an end to "pub culture". Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, this is all part of the government's plan to protect us from the terrorists. If we adopt the same laws as the taliban, maybe they wouldn't train people to come and kill us and all?

But why does everybody seem to change their mind suddenly? Not because pubs haven't existed in our country. They have been here for decades. The real wink,wink nudge, nudge reason why such a large number of people in power have been feigning this outrage is because they seem to have just discovered that young, "impressionable" woman are now regular visitors to these places which dare to serve decadent western values along with each portion of chicken wings. Our esteemed leaders were under the impression that only lose woman who failed their medical examination and had no choice but to marry a man with a regular source of income, who could only be found drowning his sorrows in a city pub, were the ones who frequented pubs, and not those young teenage women who are of marriageable age and who nowadays, because of "pub culture" know more about different types of Tequila than about different ways to cook eggplant.

Suddenly these people seem to have discovered that it's the twenty first century and that women refused to be treated as free vending machines who alternate between turning out food and popping out children.

Many of these "leaders" might not agree with the methods of the goatfuckers who attacked those women at the bar in Mangalore, but they all agree with the sentiments. Of course, now the horrendous act will be justified using crazy right wing nut job logic according to which the woman were asking for it because of dressing "to provoke" and stepping outside their house without the company of a minimum of three male relatives.

These people think that by just putting a girl and a boy in a room together means that they would end up having sex. Just because most of these people were born centuries before us (some of them literally. I mean how old do you think Arjun Singh is? Multiply it by a hundred. That's his approximate age.) does not mean they know better.

We "youngsters" (they say it like we're smug little assholes) can decide which jackass politician to vote for, we can decide which brokerage firm loses our money in the stock market, we can decide which pious neighborhood we would like to desecrate with our unholy presence. In fact we can even decide how many children NOT to have (unless of course we're living in a joint family. Then it's the decision of the joint family council. Just like they show in Survivor.) So, I think we can pretty much decide how much alcohol we require so that foreplay is minimized. I mean we're Indian. The sooner we "close the deal" the sooner we can go back to praying to God for forgiving us for having sex without the intent of having children.

Legislating your own sixth century morals is against the freedom that our constitution pretends to give us. What pisses me of is when I hear people our age talk the same drivel these old farts do. They also buy into this myth of "culture". Yes. Sure. Because it's served us so well over the past few centuries. *coughsecondlargestpopulationintheworldcough*

In our country, people can get away with murder, with creating mob hysteria, with forcing little kids to work below minimum wage, but the heavens will fall and the gates of hell will devour us all if two, law abiding, tax paying citizens just want to have a cocktail together.

Makes you want to hit the bottle, dunnit?

This post is so fat that you'd want to ask it to lose weight

2009-01-12T00:30:00.000-08:00

For fat people, the whole world is nothing like an oyster. It's more like a banquet hall filled with people who offer unwanted, patronizing advise.

If I had a nickel for every time someone has counseled me or advised me or given me tips on how to lose weight or warned me that I'm dying, I'd have enough money to have my own 21 storey library.

We all know that most people have this dellusional, self-fufilling prophecy that they know how this world works and that they need to impart this knowledge to other, lesser intelligent life forms. So that fact that I need to lose weight has been pointed out to me by a thousand candidates applying for the post of Field Marshal Obvious. In return, I give them a gift of information. I let them know that they are ugly or that their daughter's a whore or that their fifteen year old son just stole my Dad's favorite Ming vase to finance his cocaine addiction.

Of course, my Dad does not have a favorite ming vase, I never consider anyone a whore and I'll probably have a cocaine addiction when I'm forty because that's considered like dying in gay years. But it's fun to watch people drop their jaw and have a nice, warm, hazelnut flavored cup of shut the fuck up.

The advise to lose weight is often accompanied by a collorary which states that unless I lose weight I would never be able to find a thin life partner (which in 15 Indian languages means a subservient Indian housewife). Yes, because that's what the world revolves around. Thin, "fair" husband worshiping, pseudo-slave wives whose primary destiny of existence is to keep having daughters until she manages to produce a male child.

The mere thought makes me lose my lunch. Or the very least my after lunch super meal.

This remindes me of an incident. A few weeks ago, one of our family friends was visiting our house with a so called "holy" guru. Now, my family has a lot of family friends and they keep visiting. I tried to educate them about being mean and petty but they don't care about values which are important to me. Then they accuse me of not trying to bond. The nerve.

So I usually don't go to meet these family "friends" unless food items from my favorite bakery are involved. So, unfortunately for everybody except me, on that particular day, my sixth sense told me that there was choclate truffle being served and I happen to enter the room where everyone was sitting.

So this schizophrenic (not actually diagnosed, but that's what I call people who claim to speak with God. Or claim to have met Clint Eastwood.) woman serves me the usual you-must-lose-weight meal along with a side order of thin-girl-logic. So as she broke the rule of not speaking to me when I am eating, which everyone knows is sacrosanct and must be followed even during earthquakes and hurricanes, I told her to get stuffed. I called her bigoted, short sighted and said that even the statue of the laughing buddha in our drawing room is closer to God than she is.

The woman ended up putting a curse on me. Well, pick a number, medusa.

Another irritating habit that people have is to make really bad fat jokes. The only thing people say about fat people is that they eat too much. All their jokes are based on that. The other day this school acquaintance pinged me on facebook and he cracked the same joke he did on the last day of school when I poured beer on his head. I mean, c'mon chuckles, if you can't make up a good joke then at least google for one. If you want to make fun of someone, at least have the decency to use jokes which are funny. Otherwise you're just a Jay Leno wannabe.

My point is (do I EVER have one? Are you surprised?) is that fat people got the memo on being classified as ugly and not desirable when they started using swimsuit models for adverts for tobacco companies. I believe that if I have to change who I am (a glorified food whore) to get someone to like me, then it's not worth it. At least that's what I read in the best selling book "The Monk who ate his Ferrari" (It's a good read, btw). Sometimes a tiny sliver of insecurity does creep in, but then on those days I simply order a ceaser salad.

I know I do have to lose weight someday because it's not good for one's health. And maybe someday I will. When they find a way to make diet fried chicken which tastes as good as the one made using the Colonel's secret recipe.

Until then, can you please pass the coleslaw?

This post would like all of you to have a great new year!!

2009-01-01T04:41:00.000-08:00

So the new year is upon us. I tried making lists but that's bound to be incomplete as I'm sure to leave something out. I can't take stock cause well, that involves thinking and analyzing and that's better left to people who are good at math. I even thought of doing a pictorial collage but then there are only so many different types of Vodka.

Although I was sedated through most of it and it feels like one long weekend where you run off to your cottage in the woods and get completely wasted, 2008 was momentous and unique in it's own little way.

So here's to mind numbing headaches, bouts of depression, slight loss of vision and one big-ass hangover.

Have a great 2009, y'all !!

This post is not gay . . . not gay at all

2008-12-15T08:55:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wonder what being gay is all about. I mean, is there someplace I need to go and signup for membership? And then get it renewed every year?

Does it change my life so much that I suddenly start enjoying the things I didn't enjoy earlier? Do I have to watch all the episodes of Sex & the City before I join? And do I have to watch every lame gay movie out there even though I won't be able to identify with any of the characters?

(Okay. So what if I will watch any lame gay movie which has gratuitous nudity. Sue me for showing some human emotion. Geez!)

A lot of people around the world say that being gay is a lifestyle. But you don't need to have an IQ of more than 15 to realize that it's not as simple as a lifestyle choice. Being vegan is a lifestyle choice, choosing to drive a hybrid over a gas-guzzling hummer is a lifestyle choice, choosing to have apple cider instead of wine is a fucking lifestyle choice.

How do you choose to be gay? Do people suddenly wake up one day and decide they would like to bang people of the same sex? Does anyone in their right mind think that people would suddenly choose to be something that is fraught with so many complications?

But it's very hard for people to even try to understand how you're just born gay. It's not something you choose. It's something you just know and thanks to society's fake morality, something you ease into.

Why do people fall for society's fake morality?

Well that's because who would you rather listen to? The guy who tells you that you need to be good otherwise God will send you to hell or the guy who says that it's not perverted unless it's forced and unwanted.

People are scared of going to hell. I don't know why. I saw Speed 2. After seeing something so horrid, nothing scares me know. Not even the idea of hell.

See, all religious books are like collections of short stories strung together with a slightly boring narrative. They should learn how to write short stores from Jhumpa Lahri.

What? Am I the only one who loved Unaccustomed Earth?

I mean, c'mon. I believe more in the wicked witch of the west (no, we're not talking about Oprah here) than believe in the one about how heaven and earth were created by God on a Monday morning. I mean I don't know about you, but I pretty much never used to like to work on a Monday morning. I'm pretty sure that God would have done what I did. Pretend to be sick and pocket some free aspirin.

But most people buy into this morals and values stuff and drink the kool aid about keeping up appearances.

Like some members of my family. My Dad and my brother can't even bring themselves to tell people that I currently am in my 'gap' year. Okay, the second gap year has started, but that's my problem. Not anybody else's. However, my brother doesn't see it that way. He sees it as a bad reflection on the family.

We even had a sort of "discussion" about me being gay a few months ago. Remember the pride parade in Delhi? I had gone on a luncheon that day with some of my friends. So my brother reads about it in the papers the next day and assumed that I had gone to the parade. Not only do I feel stupid for not going, he also asks me if I am gay. Now, I didn't want to come out to him at that very moment, because that would have been out of spite, even though I was tempted to very, very much, so I just answered with a "So, what if I was?" And he rambled about how I'm bringing bad repute to our family's name and shit like that. So words were exchanged between us, he said things which he meant, I said things which I meant and people were told where they can go and the word "fuck" was used both as a verb and as an adjective, mostly by me.

Anyways, I'm sure my Dad and Brother will have a lot of words for me when I do eventually come out to them.

But you know what? I really don't care. Because I am what I am. I'm not going to change or be apologetic because of some idea of a perfect world both of them have in their mind. Worst case scenario, they don't be part of my life. You know, I love them and all, but I won't lose any sleep over it.

I can't expect everybody to be as progresive as my Mom.

When I came out to her I never realized what a big bombshell it was for her. The good thing did was continue to talk about it with her. We've had various conversations about my future and being gay and all. At one time, she wondered if I could have my cake and eat it too (with a Tom Cruise/Shah Rukh Khan type of deal). But I told her I'm not like that. Then a few weeks after that, one of my brother's friend came to visit, and she told my Mom that her husband had left her and their kids for another man. So that day my Mom told me that she completely agrees with me that a sham marriage is a really, really bad idea. Really, really bad.

Fine. I'll stop saying really for the rest of this post. But it is a really, really bad idea.

And now, after almost eleven months of knowing that her son is gay, my Mom is actually a tad bit enthusiastic about it.

And no, I don't need anyone to feel bad about the lack of projected support from the rest of my family. Because my Dad knows better than to argue with me and my brother thinks that repeating the last 30% of what the other person just said consists of a comeback.

And the world knows that if I have an argument I want to win, I'll move heaven and earth (well, no one can actually do that, but I do promise to move my fingers. A little bit.) to win it. Even Socrates ended up agreeing with me when I went back in time to argue with him. (Okay. I did not. But Speed 2 reminded me of Speed which reminded me of Keanu Reeves which reminded me of Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure in which both Bill & Ted time-nap Socrates. I'm really digressing, aren't I? Fine. Be a bitch about it.)

To steal a quote from and end in the spirit of gossip girl,

The truth always comes out, it's one of the fundamental rules of time. And when it does come out, it can set you free or end everything you fought to preserve.

xoxo,

Rambunctious Whippersnapper

p.s. Why does it sound sexy when Kristen Bell says it and so lame when I do?

It's because I'm fat, isn't it?

All that hard work down the drain

2008-12-11T02:45:00.000-08:00

You spend your whole life trying to build a reputation. Then, one wrong move and everything you worked hard for is taken away from you.

My whole life I have worked hard towards achieving certain goals. And one mistake, one stupid, silly mistake and all that is no more.

Ever since I was a kid, I have worked and worked to have my family accept me as a no good neanderthal who cannot be trusted to do a day's hard work and who is constantly on acid or some other substance.

Now, a few months ago I my family asked for my help for something. Now when they ask me to do something, I'm usually the LAST possible person they could turn to. So, I obliged. No, not out of any guilt. That's because guilt is mostly for religious people.

Anyways, before this incident, my family was well programmed to ask me for a favor only every six to eight months. And they didn't even trust me enough to walk the dogs. Not that I am a big fan of walking the dogs. I mean, it involves three of my least favorite things. Walking, dogs and helping out my family.

Now ever since I unselfishly granted them that favor, without even debiting the six monthly account, things have started to change.

Suddenly, my opinion is being sought on something. My opinion. You know how dangerous that can be. Last time someone sought my opinion, there were tears, broken bones and the threat of bloodshed. However, certain members of my family have started treating me like some insider. They act like I am part of this social group.

How rude is that?

Just yesterday, my sister asked me to watch one of my nephews. Me. You know, l thought she knew better.

Years ago, a cousin of mine who was not privy to my reputation had asked me to watch her kid. She belonged to a family which believed in the evil practice of vegetarianism. By the time I was done watching the kid, his favorite breakfast was sausage and he started eating Pepperoni pizza every alternate day. Needless to say, I was never asked to watch anybody else's kids again.

Even though, all I did was give the boy a real taste of freedom, no one ever asked me to watch their kids again. I wonder why.

Am I not a good role model or something?

Then there's Dad. Who expects me to help out a little with the business. He thinks that it's okay to ask me to help him with my tax return just because he is preoccupied with something urgent. He thinks I have no life.

I don't. But that's not the point. It's the spirit of the thing, really.

And my Mom. Just because I forced her to fire some of the domestic help because I was allergic to their face, she expects me to help around the house. Do impossible things like making my own cup of coffee.

Ha!! Fat chance of that happening!

I simply order out. Hmph.

This is why I used to have that six month rule. All that is in the crapper now.

Although, now when I think about this, maybe this is a good thing.

Now that my family treats me like I belong, it must translate into more money. Maybe a bigger expense account or something?

Look. I'm all about the silver lining in the dark cloud. Cause when life hands you a couple of lemons, you slice them up and add them to your cocktail.

Isn't that what they teach you in business school?

One by one I see the old ghosts rising . . .

2008-12-05T17:32:00.000-08:00

Today is truly a weird day. I've had this line from the John Fogerty song playing in my head since morning, even though I haven't listened to the song in ages.

Anyways, as I was not feeling like crap after a long time, I was eagerly waiting to start wasting my day, as usual, when I got a call from an former classmate. Dude was standing outside my alma mater and gave me a ring-a-ding for ol' times sake. After the momentous effort it took me in trying to place him, and having what can only be described as a one-sided conversation, wherein he reminisced about the good times we supposedly had and I pretended to remember and made all the right noises, we hung up with the usual empty promises to meet again for a beer. Yeah, sure. That's so gonna happen.

I also got a call from a college friend of mine who told me that the only girl to ever break my heart. Okay. That's a stretch. She obviously didn't break it. She just took it out of my body, made a little smoothie out of it, added a sprinkle of nuts and chocolate, drank it in one gulp and then came running back for seconds. As I said, nothing dramatic. You know I hate being dramatic. Okay. She is getting married to her boyfriend of seven years who was once caught cheating on her, screwing another girl in the powder room . Classy, I know. It was a total if-that-doesn't-keep-kids-in-school-then-what-will kind of moment.

Although, I'm glad she did what she did to me. It helped me grow and fine myself.

Who am I kidding, I would have found myself anyway.

I'm was gay as Tom Cruise in that scene from Risky Business.

(Which begs the question, whatever happened to Tom Cruise? When did he turn into this crazy psychopath who keeps babbling about some crazy religion which has totally untrue and unreal notions about life. I thought that's what the Pope was supposed to do? I'm confused now.)

Alright, I'm digressing. Now, she also made me read her diary. And though I'm not the one to read and tell, she was once in love with her cousin.

Yes, her cousin.

Who she made out with.

On TWO separate occasions.

And that's not even the worst part.

That boy was ugly as hell. He looked like a pre-pubescent Joe Pesci.

Okay. Let's all calm down. No harm, no foul.

I'm just glad that all of us have moved on and bear no ill will towards each other.

~~I hope her fiance loses all his hair before he's thirty. Serves her right, the little shit.~~

Hey, she's the one who kissed a blood relative and is marrying the cheater. What are you judging me for?

Okay. Focus. Moving on, as I was trying to read my book, which coincidentally is also called The Ghost, picking up from where I left off the day before, suddenly my phone rings again. It's a very familiar phone number. A number from which I have received more than a thousand calls and messages over the past few years. Most of which have gone unanswered. No, not trying to be rude or anything, but that's what you do to a former stalker. No, I don't think she's crazy. Of course not.Are you kidding me? She's just stark raving mad. A absolute lunatic.

So I was shaken a little bit, but still determined to do at least one constructive thing in the whole day, I tried to distract myself by trying to concentrate on some good food. But before I sat down to eat a scrumptious meal, I remembered that I had an important email I was supposed to send. So, in the spirit of a post-procrastination existence, I logged into my email account and was preparing to send that email.

Lo and behold!! Who do I see signed into chat for the first time in four years? Yes, the chat status of he-who-shall-not-be-named, was set to "available".

I stared at the screen in disbelief and horror for a few minutes. I tried to come up with a plan of action. There was a tug-of-war taking place inside me. The self-hating-glutton-for-punishment part of me wanted to try to say something to him. The sober part of me (which rarely speaks up) wanted to log off right away. The medicated part of me was wondering how much time remained until the next scheduled dose.

Anyways, as a truce, I opened the chat window, typed "Dude ...", waited forty seconds for a reply that didn't come and then immediately logged off. I don't know if I suddenly turned into a 17 year old or that upping you dosage without consulting a medical practitioner is harmful, but right now, I can't feel my legs and my hands are still shaking.

Seriously, it's like Deja Vu all over again.

Okay. I know some of you may feel sympathy for the other people mentioned above. But remember, you don't know them. You know me. So, take my side when the lawyers call.

Capiche?

2008-12-04T05:12:00.000-08:00

Isn't it morose that life has a way of making you eat the very words you once said?

Or that sometimes even words seem to fail you?

2008-11-29T01:15:00.000-08:00

This was written yesterday night. The crisis is finally over and I have been able to switch off my TV.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I can't seem to tear myself away from the TV for the past forty eight hours. I want to look away, I want to sleep, but I can't. I just look. In horror and morbid amazement.

It's not that there haven't been terrorist attacks before. There have been. Like a lot of other people, I felt angry for a day, talked about bombing a country or two and moved on. Because that's what we are supposed to do. Move on. Human spirit is supposed to triumph over everything.

But today, as I see the Taj burning, I don't want to move on. I want to remain angry. I cannot switch off the television. I cannot bring myself to talk about anything else. I cannot even think about anything else. Everything seems so insignificant.

Today, like those innocent people killed by those miserable scums, a part of me had died too. Yet, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

I wonder why those innocent people had to die? What was their fault? Is this what our world has come to? To think that a lot of them were just there to have a meal. To celebrate a wedding. To celebrate a promotion. To toast new business partners. To get a taste of an exotic country.

Has all this what our life has come to? Having a meal is now dangerous?

What about those people whose house was taken over? Even sitting in your own house is not safe anymore?

I want to feel different. I want to feel safe. I want to talk about the frivolous side of life. I don't want to think "What the.." every time a hear a firecracker going off. I want to order new books online and then wait for them to be delivered with childlike anticipation. I want to be able to see something besides the news. I want to worry about the life of my favorite character on Brothers & Sisters. I want to keep refreshing my the frontpage of my blog to read everybody's comments with a little glee. Yet, today none of these things matter.

Maybe I will feel all those things again. Maybe, when this is over, I will finally be able to touch the power button on the remote and switch of visuals of a horrid nightmare which my mind has not still been able to process.

But I won't forget the sacrifices of the brave men and women who gave up their life so that other people could live. I will not forget the sacrifices of the general who thought it better to lead from the front than bark instructions from the back. I will not forget the bravado of ordinary men and women in the most extraordinary of circumstances.

Yet, it doesn't matter.

My heart goes out to all those who have lost their loved ones. To them, all this is words. To them, tonight, nothing matters.

Maybe now we need to wake up and do something while we can.

Otherwise, one day, we won't be able to.

Maybe, right now, even that does not matter.

Fun fact for today: Gay men are not accesories

2008-11-22T00:07:00.000-08:00

Now, some of you already know this, by virtue of being Gay men or by having a slightly more evolved brain than the common house rat. However, some people seem not to be aware of this fact.

This article in Outlook which defines the relationships between gay men and straight women as "the need for straight women to have a man to take along shopping because their husbands and boyfriends refuse to do so".

It's such a stereotypical article, right down to the picture of a token gay writer and his female friend.

Here is a newsflash for the reject Dostana script writers Outlook calls staff reporters: Gay men are not something you carry around like a handbag made of alligator skin. We're not all about , "differentiating between forty different shades of brown" as you say. I only know one person who can do that, and even he can only tell the difference between a maximum of three different shades of brown. (Am I right, Pepe?).

Also, I can't speak for other people, but me and my hag have a friendship based on something much deeper than some superficial reason. We're friends because both of us are more intelligent and much better suited to run the world than other, lesser mortals. And both of us hate shopping like it's the plague. Although, our collective book collections could fill an Olympic sized stadium. And before you go out on a limb, ask us, and end up wetting yourself, we don't lend. Nothing personal, we're just very cheap and uptight.

Also, from what I know, even Will & Grace, which seems to be your source of knowledge about the gay universe, have a much deeper relationship than the convoluted logic that "a gay friend also keeps women safe from other predatory males". Excuse me, these women live in India. Even the secret service couldn't keep them away from "predatory males" (aka husbands).

And FYI, the only gay people who get girl talk are a special interest group.

They are called Lesbians.

--Tada--

Now please excuse me while I search for a lonely, fat, straight woman who looks at issues through the same "emotional eyeglasses". Cause, those big, large eyeglasses are just so 2007.

Does everything have to have a point?

2008-11-10T20:44:00.000-08:00

So I got an email a few days ago from "that" site. It said that I haven't used it for about four months and they were wondering if I forgot my password. I know, I know. I am to blame for not trying and blah blah. That's not the point right now. It's that I wonder if I can ever get over myself long enough to actually try to find someone, and if by some divine miracle I do, I just wish I don't get turned off because he starts every second sentence with the word basically or thinks that being a vegetarian will slow down global warming.

Yes, I have issues. Lots of them. Duh.

Which, by the way, is another fear. That when I actually let someone in, he'll find out how neurotic and fucked up I am and run as fast a gay person used to run in biblical times when he was being chased by a congregation of catholics waiting to stone him.

In fact, my life right now is like a Merchant-Ivory film. Everybody is in their own self-imposed misery and the fat guy never gets laid.

****

I'm really going to print out a big sign which says "I don't work right now. Ask me why and I'll kill you and get an alibi". People need to stop thinking their Oprah. Some people just don't get it. I mean, if looking through a person while they are almost choking to death on a piece of sushi doesn't get the message through, I don't know what will.

****

Remember when I was in a funk and had nothing to say? The voices in my head have still not returned. I kind of miss a few of them. Specially Victor. He always made me feel that there is something on my shirt which is making me look funny which in turn is causing everybody to point and laugh at me.

Again, Issues. Clusterfucked brain. Crazy.

Run, baby, run.

You knew this was coming . . .

2008-11-06T00:02:00.000-08:00

I promised myself that I wouldn't be cynical and not react to the bigotry of the retarded polygamist Jesus freaks who helped in the successful passing of Proposition 8. Then I realized that I am a very petty and cynical person. So here goes:

Dear People who voted Yes on Proposition 8:

What I do know for a fact is, being aligned with Satan and all since I'm gay, is that when the "end of days" finally comes, your fearless leader, Wassila Wackjob Sarah Palin, is going to sell out your secret location for a double mooseburger. So, be afraid. Be very afraid.

Dear American Media,

Before you pat your own back and paint yourself as a "progressive" nation and all, keep in mind that South Africa had a black President before you did. They also have Gay Marriage. So South Africa has more equality. Uh-oh.

Dear Democrats,

Grow a pair for once in your life do the right thing for the LGBT community. You have the triple crown. Use it for something good before one of you gets a blow job from some fat woman and you hand the world back into the hands of the people who want to make out with Joe the Plumber in airport washrooms. (Ugggh).

Dear Rest of the world,

Get a fucking life and try to concentrate on your own elections. Geez.

Bringing you news which no one else does

2008-11-02T17:30:00.000-08:00

Although by now we all are familiar with Proposition 8 and our stand on it, there are other lesser known propositions on the ballot which do not garner the same attention.

Proposition No, Hoff, No - This proposition makes it illegal for David Hasselhoff to appear in public without his shirt ever again.

Proposition 90210 - This proposition prohibits any further remakes of series originally broadcast in the last century.

Proposition Palin - This proposition requires a that a person nominated for the vice president of the United States be at least smarter than a fifth grader.

Proposition Can we talk about something else now - This proposition requires the people of the United States of America to recognize that it should not take two years for an election. It's not that you can't do short elections. American Idol, anyone? A sub-note of this proposition requires certain bloggers to stop making stupid election jokes in their posts and try to do something a little more constructive with their lives.

Proposition Blubber - This proposition requires people around the world to recognize that double chins and fat stomachs are sexy too. It also requires hot, six pack surfer hunks to date at least three fat people per year. In fact, usually, I am very careful about espousing my opinion, however, I put all my weight behind this initiative.

Proposition Shave that mustache, woman - This proposition requires women to keep their facial hair out of public purview cause ewwww. Unless of course you're a bearded lady at a gypsy fair.

Proposition People who wear magic underwear cannot make rules for other people - This proposition recognizes that it's hard to take people seriously when they beleive in the story of the serpent and the poisoned apple. Instead of spending all that money to prevent two guys from doin' it, get some help for your neurological disorder you call a religion. You know the last guy who interpreted the Bible to mean that certain people do not deserve equal rights? He was called Hitler. And we all know how well that turned out.

California, you little slut, put the weed down for a minute and say NO to proposition 8

2008-10-26T11:15:00.000-07:00

Listen up, California. You really want to do this? Stop gay people from getting married? For what reason? To protect your marriage? Really? And can you please tell me again how two people who love each other and want to spend the rest of their life together harms your marriage?

Unless, you and your wife are huge closet cases.

Oh, honey, then you don't need a ban on gay marriage, you need a fucking shrink.

Now, let's face it. You actually want to ban gay marriage because you're scared. C'mon. You can tell me. It's because you fear that if those promiscuous fags can make it work and you end up in divorce court and lose everything you own, your self confidence might take a little dip to the south side. Just like John McCain's poll numbers. And then you would be forced to recognize that the only threat to your marriage is YOU ~~and viagra~~.

Or it's because of that medieval book rumored to be ghost written by God?

See, it's okay to believe in such fairytales. We all need some crap to believe in so that we don't pee in our pants everytime the wind gets a little strong the it seems like you're on the set of Deep Impact. But just because you believe that the earth is flat does not mean that other people have to marinate in the pool of your ignorance.

It's okay to practice your ignorance in the safety of your own home/trailer/make-shift box like structure. Even if it means wearing that magic underwear like those freaky mormons or live a flintstone-themed life like the Amish.

Look, Sparky. Let me level with ya. I don't beleive in marriage either. Straight/Gay/Brangellina. If God wanted human beings to spend all their life with one person, he would have made everybody look ugly. He didn't. Ergo.

Anyway, the fight for gay marriage is not just about being recognized as a couple. It's about having the right to visit your partner who is in coma because of some weird kama sutric position you were trying to spice up your monogamous (ughh) life. Or being able to file joint tax returns to sock it to the man. Ye-ah, baby. Or being able to adopt a child together (God knows why).

It's even legal to get hitched with the guy sticking a pole up your arse in the land of the Queen. You see, the British part their stiff lips to blow each other every now and then. So chill the fuck out and say no to proposition 8.

Otherwise, the terrorists win.

The one in which we have nothing to say ... well, almost

2008-10-20T16:10:00.000-07:00

So the past few weeks have been kind of surreal. Mostly because I have not felt like talking to anyone. For the first time in my life, it's like I have nothing to say.

I don't know what it is but it's like been very quite in these here parts. Which is very unusual because I even talk when I'm sleeping. Maybe the alcohol is wearing off or my brain has gone into a coma and forgotten to inform me or something like that. Hell, I can't even hear the voices in my head. It's like all of them got together and decided to go for a road drip leaving me behind.

Usually I am very anti-social and talk to a very selected few (mainly because not a lot of people cannot ~~stand~~ understand me), but this is even strange for me. I mean me not wanting to talk is like Paris Hilton refusing to have sex or Sarah Palin not horrifying people with every word that comes out of her mouth. Hell, I haven't even clogged the interwebs with my moronic opinion for quite a while.

I have this uncanny urge to put my head in the sand. Metaphorically, of course. As I said, it's quite strange for me. I ALWAYS have something to say. About everything. Even about things I don't know shit about. Like that time when I gave an advanced discourse about "the birds and the bees" to one of my straight friends who was about to get married. (I had to tell him what goes where and how. By far, one of the worst nights of my life. I still shiver and puke when I think about it.)

I hope this "phase" or whatever ends soon. Cause I don't want to turn into one of those people who speak very little and always think and weigh their words before they say anything.

I just want to go back to being the village idiot, with a ton of suppressed issues, who says everything that comes to his mind because he does not have a filter. The person we all know and want to always keep a little drunk because if he is sober, he might be tempted to take over the world.

This post is anything but normal

2008-10-14T03:34:00.000-07:00

So I ran into this old school friend of mine. Actually, I shouldn't really say friend. More of an acquaintance. I mean I don't even have him listed as a friend in facebook. How much of a friend would he be?

Anyways, we got to talking, and by talking I mean he was saying something while I was nodding along trying to remember his name. Which, by the way, I couldn't. So the words "dude", "buddy" and "bro" were used a lot.

Anyways, when I finally gave up trying to remember his name, (to be fair I even tried word association but all I came up with was Freckles, which I think is self-explanatory), he told me he was getting married. I looked at him with the same expression of shock and disgust that is usually reserved for when I hear Sarah Palin talk. Anyways, after a few minutes of silence, I asked him why he is getting married and wondered aloud if I should congratulate him or feel sorry for him.

So, my old buddy, whatishisname, told me that he was getting married because, and I quote, "All his friends are getting married too". He applied the same excuse I gave my parents when I got bored of my atari and wanted a Nintendo (that's pre-playstation gaming consoles for those young fucks who don't know) to marriage.

After I fake numbered him and sent him packing, I realized he is like most people. Those who take major life decisions because everybody else is. For them, life is like walking into a resturant, sitting down, looking at the table on the right, and telling the waiter "I'll have what he's having."

These sort of people spend their whole life keeping up appearances. You know, people who just want to be like everyone else. People, who if you look at from far away, will all look the same, right down to the bad haircut and the mass-market trousers, because all they want in life is to be normal.

This is why i think being gay is like a blessing in disguise. The mind numbingly painful teenage years and social ostracisation aside, part of the reason why I can see things from a refreshingly different angle, is because I am gay. Hey, my point of view may not be plausible and might have resulted from too many blows to the head and a little extra vodka in my orange juice, but it's still my own.

As Jodie Foster once said, Normal is not something to aspire too, it's something to get away from. Boy, I always knew good ol 'Jodie was a lesbian.

Lastly, for those who are wondering, I did congratulate him. And I asked him to offer my condolences to his fiance

He thought I was kidding.

The one in which we actually think about other people ... well, sort off

2008-10-02T05:02:00.000-07:00

So due to some unforeseen circumstances, I was sitting with my family, while they were having a conversation and I was nodding my head to assure them that I haven't slipped into coma. At least on the outside anyway.

Then suddenly this bit about me getting married comes up. Now, my family knows that this subject is not broached with me. But it was a joke, and everyone was having tea, so I let it pass. Another nail in the coffin of my happiness. Why bother, really? Anyways, it was something about building a separate apartment for me in a few years/whenever I get married whatever comes first.

It was assumed that I would actually be staying with my family whence I go back to wasting my life again.

Now don't get me wrong, I wouldn't like anything better than living at a place where the food is good and there is ample parking, but really I don't see this scenario happening.

This is because, well, all the members of my family who are not my mom don't know for sure that I am gay. Of course, they might suspect and hope and pray that it's just a phase and one of those things that boys do like install a basketball board in their yard and never use it or get a weird haircut.

I figure that when I do tell the rest of my family that I am gay, I do intend to move out of this place I currently call home. No, it's not because anyone would say things to me. They know better than that. If I had really cared for their opinion and advice, I would've lost weight ten years ago. That's not the point.

It's that I don't want my family to suffer a smear campaign because of me. I mean I'm used to people looking at me and whispering (Oh, that's his third helping, you know or who the hell wears reeboks with corduroy trousers?). So it's fine by me. I am immune to other people's opinion. That happens when you consider yourself ~~know that you are~~ a superior life form. Anyways, this is not about me. It's about how I don't want my parents to go through all that because of me. Because they have always been respected and spoken about fondly. Even though they have a son like me.

And secondly, when that mob comes to kill me, I just want them to focus on me. Nothing major, I just love the attention.

Hey, turns out I do care about my family. And here I was thinking of selling their secrets for short-term personal gain. Damn you, Oprah.

No, Oprah's got nothing to do with this. I've just always wanted to say that.

Too tired to think of a title

2008-10-01T05:45:00.000-07:00

So yesterday, I did something completely out of character and did a task that had been pending for the past two and a half years. No, I did not suddenly wake up and become a do-er of things, it was the absolute last day I could do the task. The final extension had already been granted. I checked. So I pulled up my sleeves (metaphorically only, mind you) and actually finished it.

My parents, who really expected the time limit to lapse and were resigned to another disappointment from me, were surprised to know that I did it a few hours before the clock said that it was midnight.

Strangely, this got their hopes up and they are counting on me to do another thing that has been pending for the past six months.

Six months only? Ha! It's too early and not urgent enough for me to even think about starting to work on it. Hell, I am tired right now and need a break of a few weeks/months.

I mean, parents never learn do they? They always expect their children to come through for them. Even someone like me.

Really, when will they realize that it's not about what I can do for them, it's all about how I can get through life by doing the minimum amount of work whilst getting maximum gains. No, I'm not lazy. That's simple economics. Maximum utilization of minimum resources. Or something like that.

Seriously, aren't I a catch?

The one in which we talk like a drunk activist

2008-09-27T02:32:00.000-07:00

There is this huge discussion going on in our country about homosexuality.

And by huge discussion mean a 100 word article on page 26 of the newspaper expressing the views of three people.

One of the things that stem from the discussion proves is that homosexuality actually exists in the country. Wow. That's so hard for me to believe. You mean to say there are fagots running up and down giving each other blow jobs in the land of the mahatma?

Sex without trying to make male babies?

Sex for fun?

Really. I am shocked is what I am.

As buddha once said, "Holy Shit, Batman!!!"

But isn't homosexuality illegal in our country? As it is written in the Indian Penal Code? The one authored by the British who illegally occupied our country for a few centuries?

Wait Penal Code? The law banning anal sex is called the penal code? You got to appreciate British humor. After all, it's the land of the spotted dick.

What? That's a fucking food item.

But didn't we throw out the British some sixty one years ago and wrote a new constitution? We did that but we still retained the "penal" code as dictated by the British?

So let me get this straight. We can burn buses, destroy public property because of some stupid movie no one is gonna watch anyway, but because some dipshit in the 19th century was a motherfucking prude, we can't pound each other like the alpha dog pounds his little bitch?

You mean to tell me that The right to lube isn't one of them fundamental rights?

Wow. Gosh darnit. Ten thousand blistering barnacles.

So the Indian government feels that just because a few ~~million~~ people want something, it doesn't justify giving it to them.

Oh wait, where have I heard this before.

Oh yes, that was the same logic Winston Churchill gave to the house of commons when the British army in India violently crushed peaceful protests asking for independence.

You can't argue with such genius logic. You just need to grin and bear it.

(Note: I can sneak in innuendo into anything. I'm like Joey from Friends. Only uglier, fatter and gayer. Oh, and less Italian. In fact the only Italian connection I have is my love for Spagetti and meat-a-balls. Fuck you, that's a food item too you pervert. ~~Yes, I'm talking to you unsung.~~)

You're right Scotty. We have come a long way. Just because things change, doesn't mean they cannot remain the same.

Oh yes. And we can all believe our government when they say homosexuality is against the order of nature. They promised to protect our cities from those evil doers and look at the wonderful job they have done. We're safe from terror as long as we don't step out from our home. Also, don't go to such dangerous places as shopping malls and movie theaters. In fact, our government is the recipient of the first annual George W Bush You're doing heckuva job award. Congratulations. There couldn't have been a clear winner.

My point is that if we expect things to change in the concentration camp we call a country, then we must ask ourselves What are we smoking? And even, somehow, due to some hand of God, even if the law is repealed, people's attitude are not going to change. That is because in our country being open minded is defined by driving a car manufactured in Korea and eating a chicken steak. Most of the people in our country are living the same lives their ancestors lived 50 or 100 years ago. They just have better technology. And by better technology I mean they use a nokia phone.

Anyways the point is that you can never trust the majority to make the right decision. That is so because the majority of people are stupid. They believe anything their priest, politician and reality show contestant tells them. And most of them are born to be followers anyway.

I'm not saying we need to give up fighting for our rights. I'm saying is that we shouldn't expect things to change in a day. We still have a long way to go.

But what we should not forget is that just all of us have a right to be happy. Just because old people who fart in public tell us that something is perverse doesn't mean that it is. Just do whatever and whomever makes you happy. Even if you are into some weird S&M shit.

Which, by the way, if you are into, please call. Thanks.

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaack

2008-09-24T04:10:00.000-07:00

Contrary to rumors floating around the blog world, I did not die and go to gay heaven (i.e. hell), although I am convinced that's the only way I'll ever get any action. My fat ass is still very much on this planet. I'm not going anywhere. At least for the next two millenia.

Also, to dispel other rumors, I did not join the cast of Weeds, the blind guy didn't see me and I certainly did not have sexual relations with that woman.

*da-da-doom-dish*

(I hope that was the right sound effect. If not, well, I'm not a fucking sound technician, so give me a break.)

However, the rumor about me having a big schlong is something that I'm neither going to confirm nor deny. Draw your own ~~BIG~~ conclusions. Though with my luck, you know which one it would be.

Anyways, before I humiliate myself anymore and drive away the three people who still love me, I just wanted to say a big thank you to all those who missed me. I love you all even though I do question your intelligence. (insert wicked smiley)

And to all those who did not miss me, well, sleep with one eye open tonight. There's going to be a fat guy climbing down your chimney with a big brown bag and it ain't gonna be Santa.

*cue evil laugh*

(I said I'm not a fucking sound technician. Geez.)

p.s. I wasn't away on purpose. There were some extraordinary circumstances that required my immediate attention and were the cause of my absence.

Is that a banana in your pocket or are you really happy to see me?

2008-09-10T23:55:00.000-07:00

So I enter this espresso bar, grab a table, sit, take out my laptop, pretend not to notice anyone else, actually not notice anyone else, order my caffe poison, put on some music and start typing/browsing.

Then, as luck would have it, I accidentally notice that a smart, almost-hunk is on the opposite table is checking me out. I pinch myself three times to ensure that this is not the usual nightmare where the hunk turns into godzilla and starts eating me up. Once I confirmed that it was in fact reality, I proceed to process the information.

Is he for real? Is he really checking me out or just looking at me so as to make jokes with his friends? Not that I really care. Is he one of them wonderfully big-hearted chubby chasers I keep hearing about? Does this mean that there IS a God? Does my hair look good? Who am I kidding? My hair always looks good.

Then he started to smile.

I put on my best I-may-be-fat-on-the-outside-but-let's-pretend-I-have-a-personality-on-the-inside face so as to enable him to fall in love with me.

Anyways, he keeps looking and smiling and I keep getting more and more conscious. I even almost drop my cup of java.

Then his friend, who had her back towards me looks at me and says something to me. I guess that she is his fag hag and was just approving me. After all, I had just the right expression on my face.

So she turns towards me and asks me politely

Fag Hag: Excuse me, what song is that?

Me: Which song?

Fag Hag (a little taken aback): ..ummm... The one you are listening to ...

Me (snapping out of planning my first date with the almost-hunk): Oh..,that

Me: It's .... (forgetting name of song ) ...

Me: *long pause* .. How to save a life by The Fray....

Fag Hag (smiling): ... Cool ... Thank You ....

Me: That's quite alright ...

Me (inner voice): Quite alright? What are you? A 1896 homosexual or a log cabin republican? Couldn't you say, that's okay or no problem .... Are you kidding me with this shit? .... Who forgets the name of the song? ... You fucking listen to it a gazillion times a day ... you moron .. you'll never have a boyfriend ....

Fag Hag: My friend here likes the song ....

Me: He has good choice in music .... hahaha (--> the i-love-him-laugh)

Me (inner voice): Why are you so fucking lame? Seriously, since when did you turn shy? Is that even a joke.... No, dumbass ... that is why no one's laughing ... and you don't count pinhead ....

I play the song again. The almost-hunk smiles again.

Then it happened.

Both of them got up. The fag hag looked in my direction. She smiled.

Then, the almost-hunk wears dark black shades, picks up his walking stick from under the table and both of them head out.

The almost hunk was BLIND.

Yes. Someone who couldn't SEE.

He was visually challenged.

So he was not checking me out, the moron was doing some fucking eye exercises.

Whoever runs this bloody planet is a really big frikin tease.

Now please excuse me while I go make fun of people who don't have much going on in their lives.

Anyone who points out the irony is going to have one big fat lip. Men or women. I don't discriminate.

My own private Idaho

2008-09-06T00:45:00.000-07:00

So I'm not dead yet. On the outside anyway. I died on the inside a few years ago, when I found out that John Cena has a girlfriend.

Anyway, I'm away from home at this mountain retreat. Sort of needed a break. "A break from what?" some of you may asked each other, in a hushed tone. Good question, however, history teaches us that some questions are better left unanswered. Like Who killed Peter Pan? and Why did the chicken cross he road?

So this hilly town I am in just has the basic bare necessities one needs to survive in the world. Like an alcohol bar, two espresso bars, a bookshop, a baskin robins, two pizzerias, and an out of this world bakery. It's safe to say I'm roughing it. I mean the hotel only has basic cable and no satellite TV. That's equivalent to camping in the wild or trying to climb Mt Everest.

And this place always has a strange effect on me. It's like Bizzaro world up here. I do unusual things like walking for fun and pouring my own glass of water. I even almost smiled to someone. Also, when the reception gave me a wake up call, which I had not asked for, I actually did not beat them up within an inch of their life and did not even have Satan confisicate their souls for the next three eternities.

Another weird thing I've seen is that ugly people only mate with other ugly people and good looking people only mate with other good looking people. There are very few people who really stand out as a "What-the-fuck-is-behind-nose-no-1 and Oh-fuck-look-at-that-ass" couple.

Which is both a good thing and a bad thing. Good thing is that I might have a chance and bad thing is that he would be as ugly as me, which means I'm going to die alone, because I would certainly not date me. I have standards, ya'know.

Maybe I should look into this "wife" thing. If I am going down, I'm taking some poor, unsuspecting, soul with me. Or at the very least I will have someone to polish my shoes when other help is busy. You can never have too much help these days.

Anyyywayyy, I still like it here. The weather is nice and most of the employees at the hotel I'm staying in have the same name. In fact, it's common to almost all service employees. Everyone answers to "Excuse Me". How very thoughtful of the tourism department. That's called putting your customer first. When you don't need to know the names of people who bring your morning cuppa tea or serve you dinner. That's what keeps bringing me back here everytime. That and the fact that I can ignore almost everyone here and not give an excuse.

If only there was a Gay bar here somewhere, this would be a perfect Paradise. Even the chicken crossed the road because there was a gay bar on the other side.

I promise that this post will eventually end

2008-09-02T07:00:00.000-07:00

You know what people lack in this day and age? In fact, something that has been lacking since the dawn of time. Ever since Adam fell in love with Eve's brother, Evan.

A sense of humor.

I don't mean a sense of humor like the ability to crack funny jokes, but the ability to lighten up.

People take themselves way too seriously. The reason there is so much sadness everywhere we turn is because (a) People voluntarily remain sober and (b) Most people let others define who they are.

It's so easy to label someone. And when you do, that someone does his best to live up to that label. Consciously or subconsciously. For example, we somehow have come to the notion that pink is gay. Everything pink is now associated with being gay. Gay rights is called the pink revolution. Wtf, right? Why not magenta? Or coffee brown? Maybe not. Coffee brown sounds too straight.

People also let other people define what is right or wrong. There is this ideal person that everybody wants to be. Someone who by a conscious majority is deemed as an ideal citizen and a moral authority. Someone who always does the so called "right thing" and sacrifices his happiness for others. Personally, I would rather soak my nuts in boiling hot water than sacrifice my happiness for someone who is not me.

Some self-righteous morons have the tendency to define what standards certain people need to uphold to qualify for a particular label. Like if you don't like bollywood or cricket or don't speak your "mother" tongue, you ain't truly Indian. It's like saying that if you prefer to listen to Lupe Fiasco or enjoy a pizza more than you enjoy *insert name of Indian food item* then you might as well go and piss on the memorial of the unknown solider. Personally speaking, I'd rather eat vegetarian food than care about what label other people put on me. And by the by, I only eat vegetarian food when a gun is put to my head. Or if dry humping is involved. It depends on the situation, really.

I am of the opinion that anybody's signoff of "acceptance" on who you are is not required.

I'm not trying to diss anyone, even though I love to do that. Everybody has their own definition of right or wrong and that's how it should be. Like I believe that breakfast is best washed down with a light cocktail. A few might disagree. That does not change my mind.

There is also this irritating habbit that people need to have similar opinions to hang out. There is this notion that people with opposing ideas cannot be friends. I have many friends who completely disagree with my heavily medicated point of view most of the time. But then that doesn't stop me from being good friends with them. And being a good friend I mean not screwing them over for material gain. Well, err... maybe a little. Tee-hee.

Like my brother's beliefs about religion are the complete opposite of mine. But I don't hate him for that. That would be ridiculous. I hate him because even though there is a half-decade age gap between us, the fuck looks younger to me. Grrrrr.

So people need to lighten up and come down from their high horses. People literally jump from their fucking seat to stereotype someone. It's the easiest thing to do. People don't realize that there are always two sides to a coin. My side and the other ~~wrong~~ side.

My Jerry Springr-esque conclusion is that people need to stop marinating in their own pool of self inflicted misery and need to get lighten up. Laugh a little. It's simple and easy. If you find it difficult, please signup for my simple and easy eight-step program.

p.s. I realize that most of my analogies revolve around food, drinks and nuts. But I can't help it can I? I'm fat, alcoholic and gay. So sue me.

Career Day at Whippersnapperville

2008-08-29T05:43:00.000-07:00

So I heard some lady on CNN talk about glass ceilings and being what you want to be and so I thought it would be great to have a career, once again, even if it is for a week or two. Don't wanna try too hard, too soon, y'know.

I thought I'd be a politician but then I realized that it involves being nice and telling ugly people that "Beauty is skin deep" and doing other crappy things like kissing babies and shaking hands. That's really not any fun. Plus if you're in the system, it's pretty hard to criticize it and blame it for your unwillingness to do something about all the shit floating around in the world.

I wondered if I could be an activist working to change society and uplifting the poor and the downtrodden. Then I realized that it would mean that I would need to go to places which don't have air conditioning or bottled water or an espresso bar. Without these things, it's really impossible for me to exist. And I'm allergic to fresh air anyway. Also people who look like they haven't had to eat in ages freak me out.

So I thought that maybe I can try to be a lawyer. While I was reading article 1 of the constitution, I realized that why try to change things which already have a system? Poor people vote rich people into office. That's democracy. Poor people come into office and rob other poor people. That's socialism. And when poor people come into office and become rich by killing all the rich people, that's a revolution.

Then thought I'd become an actor. However, there's not enough money in the world to make me pretend to be a straight guy again. Unless it's straight guy who does other straight guys on the side. Then I'm up for it. Alas, to my utter disappointment, I found out that in the reel world, fat people don't have sex. So that ended all my silver screen dreams.

So on a bright, sunny day, I thought I'd take up a gig as a motivational speaker. Then, when I was getting ready to write my first speech, it dawned on me that telling unsuccessful people that there is still hope in their life and giving them a reason to live is really not my cup of decaf mocha. I mean with one stupid speech, I can't change their destiny, right? There is a reason lethal prescription drugs are sold at most pharmacies. I'm not suggesting anything, just pointing out some facts. Don't shoot the messenger.

Then I thought I'd become a psychologist. Why the fuck not, eh? But something made me realize that if I hear one more person bitch about how fucked up their life is I will go ahead and beat them with their own arm after I tear it out from it's socket. And then shave them bald and write "this mind is clusterfucked" on their big, bald head. Finally, just when they think it's over, I'll make them watch John McCain speeches in an endless loop. Nothing can be a more fitting punishment for such people.

Afterwards, when I was flipping through CNBC, I thought that I can try to be a successful Investment Banker. However, good sense prevailed over me. It's not that I won't enjoy wiping out the life savings of unsuspecting shareholders right when they need it. I just don't see myself spending the rest of my life copy/pasting things into a Microsoft Excel speadsheet. And all this talk of bulls and bears puts me to sleep. It also turns me off for some reason. Maybe because it's so unsexy.

So I came to the conclusion that I should stick to my current career path. It's the only thing I'm good at. And the only thing I want to do, really. Being fat man passed out on bar stool.

Sounds like a perfect profession for me.

*hic*

You know you are really fat & lazy when

2008-08-27T04:25:00.000-07:00

- all the eateries around your house have installed a special private line just for your calls

- a restaurant introduces an "all-you-can-eat" offer for it's regular patrons, it sends you a notarized letter informing you that the offer does not apply to you

- in a time of crisis, your family turns to you after they have exhausted ALL their options

- you don't want to have children and/or pets because taking care of them will be "too much work"

- you receive an award and you phone in your acceptance speech

- when you show someone your photograph, you tell them that "the camera adds 1800 pounds"

- at your favorite restaurant, when you ask the waiter to bring "the usual", it actually refers to everything on the menu

- your t-shirt size is "oh my god! what the fuck"

- the reason you got late for the meeting? the escalator got stuck

- you classify dialing a phone number as exercise

- your daily intake of food could feed three countries in Africa, for a month

- your doctor privately refers to you as "my house-in-the-Bahamas fund"

- when a car bangs into you, you barely notice while the car is damaged beyond repair

- you are legally required not to jump because the last time you did, it cause an earthquake which was measured at 7.5 on the richter scale

- you have your own postal code

- your blood group is sugar

- you supersize you burger and fries and order a diet coke

- you'd rather die of thirst then go to the kitchen 5 feet away from your room to get a glass of water

- you get invited for an event, your first thought is "how can i get out of it?"

- your insurance company pays you in tubs of your favorite ice cream instead of money

- you haven't watched tv in ages because you can't find the damn remote

The world is going to the dogs

2008-08-25T04:11:00.000-07:00

So I was half asleep, lying on my bed, out of sheer exhaustion, having been working the whole day. And then ...

Fine. I know you folks wouldn't believe me anyway. So let me rephrase that.

So I was lying on my couch, almost passed out from having had a little extra to drink than usual, when suddenly I found myself privy to some strange conversation.

I have always suspected that animals speak to each other and just pretend to be dumb in front of us. Yesterday, I got proof. I heard my family's pets talking amongst themselves. Coincidentally, it was about me.

So let's call these pets M, D and S.

Here's whatever part of their conversation I could remember:

M: So he's passed out again on the couch.
D: I'm getting sick of this shit, ya know. This guy has no life.
D: I mean, I'm not trying to judge here, but get a job, buddy.
S: I know!! He just lies around all day doing nothing. What a bum.
M: What are you guys talkin about? Don't you see him typing away on his notebook most of the time?
D: He's probabaly seing some porn again. What a fuckerhead.
D: That's the good thing about being a dog. You don't need porn. You're always naked.
M: You're such a dweeb, you know.
S: Shut up both of you, you'll wake him up.
D: Oh, don't worry. He's not going to wake up for another few hours.
D: Even a bazooka wont be able to wake him up right now.
M: That was funny, *giggle*
D: I'm funny like that, sometimes.
S: Oh, shut the fuck up asshole. I already hear him say that the whole day long.
S: Now you don't start. If I hear it one more time, someone's going to need a rabies injection.
M: I know. He thinks it's funny. Someone needs to tell him that it's the best seller at the lame-o-rama.
M: Lamer than his joke about calling us "Sons-of-Bitches" the whole day long.
M: I mean, for the love of the big woof in the sky, get a new joke. It's been two years, jackass.
D: Oh, he thinks he has a sense of humour.
S: Well, I don't know where he gets such weird ideas from.
S: And he's really been unstopable the last few weeks.
S: Someone's been giving him the wrong idea that he's funny.
M: You know, sometimes, when I hear him talk, I want to kill myself, just to feel a little better.
M: I agree. It's just not worth it.
D: You guys, you should start meditating.
M: Where do you get such weird ideas from?
D: Well, I was hungry and got one of his books to eat, but it was this new age spiritual book and it got interesting.
D: I now know three types of meditation. Yay for me.
D: And, I started my second bok already. I'm currently half-way through something called The Secret.
S: What's it about?
D: It's about positive thinking and shit like that.
D: You need to tell the universe what you exactly want and it ends up giving it to you.
M: Like a drive-in McDonalds?
D: No, not exactly.
S: Then?
D: Well, it's complicated. Too deep for your primitive minds.
M: Who died and made you a neo-guru, huh?
D: You know M, you can be such a bitch sometimes. Bow.
M: Yeah, like totally.
S: You dogs are crazy, you know that.
S: You're stealing and eating too many of his "special cakes".
S: I think you're getting delerious.
M: Oh, man, fuck, those cakes are delicious. They take me to a place I never even new existed.
M: Like a higher ground or something.
D: Forget that. I was talking to you about catharsis.
D: Whenever you get angry at him, just go and pee on his car.
D: He hates that.
D: And I love it when he gets a panic attack everytime I leave my man-juice on his car tires. The expression on his face when he discovers that is priceless.
D: It just makes all his bad one-liners worth listening to.
M: D, stop licking you own balls. You should know how to behave in front of a lady.
S: Like you're a lady. Ha!
M: Well, I'll have you know, that I pee sitting down. Hmph.
S: Oh yeah, that's the most important thing for a lady. You're right. My bad.
D: I'm hungry. I need some chow.
M: Well, I think he got a new batch of his special cakes made today. It's on the table in his room.
S: Let's go.

The Dream

2008-08-22T20:43:00.000-07:00

After having a zillion bad days, finally he was having a good one. It was as if, for him ,the tide had suddenly turned. Finally all the pieces of his life were coming together.

Just yesterday, he had received the reply to his message. The first real date of his life was going to be tonight.

And now the call from the publisher. His dream of seeing his name in print was finally coming true.

All those years of struggling to come to terms with himself and all that time he spent wondering whether he was doing the right thing or not was a now a part of the past. The past which he could now bury and move on.

He would not be a failure in world's eyes anymore.

He could not wait to tell is parents. He cut his morning walk short and started running towards his house.

Then, in a flash, it was all over. He never even saw the car speeding towards him.

His name did appear in print. It was in the form of his obituary.

However, he would have to wait for that date. For an eternity.

Finally, the whippersnapper offers his wisdom to the world

2008-08-21T13:45:00.000-07:00

Read this before you read anything else: I know most of you are going to ignore this anyway, but let me warn you that the following post may contain language and or euphemisms which might offend you if you are any of the following: God, Women, Men, Gay people, Straight people, Bi people (wtf), Sad people, Happy people, People with big wankers, people with small wankers, people without wankers, anybody who can read. It also compares the so called sacred institution of life with male genitalia. It also equates happiness with having a big wanker and a bubble butt. Wat the hell didja expect? I'm gay after all. D-uh.

Don't tell me you haven't been warned. Read at your own risk.

(Why is the disclaimer bigger than the whole fucking post?)

Since almost everyone in our blogging clique (are we a clique? possibly) is getting serious and profound, and because I cannot offer them individual sessions, I think everyone needs a dose of the world famous, universally renowned, tried & tested (mostly by me), WhipperSnapper Wisdom.

Firstly, all of us have questions. Questions about life. About why we are who we are. About our purpose on earth.

To tell you the truth, no one really knows the answers to these questions. Everybody just wings it. Even God. Or any other fairytale you believe in.

You see with all the shit that has been hitting the fan lately, I think G-d's been dialing it in for a few centuries. Or maybe he's getting laid in the Bahamas. It just depends which particular issue of Satan Times one is reading.

Anyways, I grappled with these questions too. For almost a week. And considering how short my attention span is, that is the equivalent of ten light years in whippersnapper time. What i found was deep and disturbing.

Basically, God was having fun one day and decided to create the earth. He made men who loved men and women who loved women and kids who could be ordered on Amazon dot com. So almost everyone on earth was living happily. Then God's wife saw how everything was going so well and decided to fix it. Typical woman. She made men who begun to like women and women who begun to like men. And people talked about feelings and monogamy. Pffft. Not that there is anything wrong with that. However, there were some original inhabitants who were too powerful even for Mrs. God. So she made priests whose only job was to condemn the original inhabitants. Soon the printing press was invented and everyone started believing this crap. Because people believed that everything that is published has to be true. So after a few centuries the original inhabitants were marginalized. Why? Because most people are stupid. Stupid people believe anything. That is why China does not want democracy and fifty million people voted for George W Bush. Holy Mother of God.

Now, a lot of people think that life is cool and shit and that positive thinking will cure anything. Fuck that. Life is supposed to be one long foreplay before the sweet orgasm of death. That is why alcohol was made. So that you can delude yourself that you're actually enjoying the foreplay and also fasttrack towards the orgasm. That's called killing two birds with one stone. Or licking two nuts with one mouth. Depends on which team you play on.

What I'm trying to say is that people will always find a way to be unhappy. Even if someone has the biggest wanker on earth or the best bubble butt ever, they will find some way to fucking fell sorry about themselves. It's natural. it's human nature. Happens to the best of us. That's how God intended it to be.

That's because if people start thinking that life is one constant blow job after another, who the fuck will pray?

People also wonder where they will be in a few years time. Let me break this one for ya. In a few years time, this beautiful, flawed race will be gone from the face of this earth. Yup. All of us. That's because we'll either choke ourselves to death or we'll nuke everything that breathes. Meanwhile, the best idea is to stop worrying about the future and concentrate on getting laid. Or getting high. What I'm sayin is pick a fucking hobby.

That's all.

Edit: By the way, I hope it shows that I'm an optimistic person. It does, right?

The one in which we further the "homosexual agenda"

2008-08-17T08:06:00.000-07:00

There are those when you get up and you have that feeling that it's going to be a really, really long day?

And even though you wake up at 2.30 in the afternoon, you have this feeling of impending doom. You know it's some festival but you don't remember which exactly? And after having your coffee you realize that you actually promised your sister an actual gift this time around for rakhi instead of handing her some cash and saying "Dude, get yourself sumthing nice." Then you remember that you didn't get her anything but you know she's gonna forgive you when you go sniff sniff and tell her that you have a "bad cold-d". And she knows how lazy you are. She's probably expecting it. So why to shock & awe her?

But that's not why it's going to be a long day. Or a long post. It's because people are coming over. People with kids. Kids of people who I am supposed to be related too. Which is scary. In both ways.

I mean cousins and relatives are kind of funny. I mean people you meet once or twice a year. I, as a rule, don''t bother with their names or occupation because I mostly just say a simple and effective Hi or nod my head to them anyway. The point I'm trying to make is that it's strange that people you are so unfamiliar with act like they're your best friend. Which is kinda stupid but the whole concept of "relatives" is kinda stupid. So I guess it goes with the territory.

Anyways, so this women (cousin? cousin's wife? avon lady??) suddenly decides to take it upon herself to talk some "sense" into me about marriage. Though almost everybody in the room cautions her against it. There have been great men and women who tried to argue with the whippersnapper but alas everything they said or did came to nought. So this women thought that she could change the course of history and change my opinion about something.

So she started her monologue about marriage and she said the usual stuff like you need to further the human race by having more children and that according to her I should now bring in someone take "care" of my parents. Yes, exactly. Like there aren't already enough children in the world and like my family needs a maid or something.

And then I realized, that like most people, she really doesn't know what she's talking about. That she doesn't get it.

I mean isn't mariage supposed to be about two people who love each other and want to spend their lives together. Not because they want to further their clan or get someone to cook & clean. Just like those idiots who accuse the proponents of Gay marriage as trying to further the homosexual agenda (can anybody memo me on this please?) their marriage is based on the wrong principles.

I mean if this is their definition of marriage, then I really don't want any part of it. I'd rather have a "commitment ceremony" or whatever other kinds of crappy names we can come up with.

Not that I woudn't call two people who would want to spend the rest of their lives together lazy and a little bit dellusional, but in a cute way. Cute like having a double chin.

p.s. We have a double chin. So cracks about double chins will not be appreciated. Well, unless they are funny. We'll laugh at anything, really.

Freedom

2008-08-15T00:00:00.000-07:00

Freedom means being able to choose your own destiny.

Freedom means giving and receiving love, without being judged for it.

Freedom means not worrying about what someone else thinks about the choices you make in life.

Freedom means wanting to embrace who you really are, without worrying about what other people say.

Freedom means not wishing to be anyone else but yourself. Nothing added, nothing subtracted.

Freedom means not having to compare your own life with the lives of other people.

Freedom means feeling happy for others for the love & happiness in their lives, even though it may be missing from your own.

Freedom means following your own bliss and not living your life according to someone else's script.

Freedom means to always be yourself and not pretend to be what you are not.

Freedom means making mistakes, owning up to them and learning from them.

Freedom means the right to find your own way to God. Or not believing in him/her at all.

Freedom means not subscribing to the classification of every action into good or evil.

Freedom means realizing that the world is your oyster.

Freedom means chasing your dream, even though everybody else and their uncle think you are meant to do something else.

Freedom means the ability to laugh at everything, especially your own self.

Freedom means opening your eyes to see the funny lining of the dark cloud, even though others choose to be blind to it.

Freedom means not becoming a prisoner of your own mind.

Freedom means not owing anybody any explanation.

Freedom means not to fall in the trap of "right" or "wrong".

Freedom means not putting a label on yourself or on anyone else.

Freedom means not living up to any stereotype.

Freedom means saying what is in your heart and not worrying about the consequences.

Freedom means trusting your own judgment, despite those various moments of weakness.

Freedom means defying convention to do your own thing.

Freedom means laughing at your own joke even though no one else thinks it's funny.

Freedom means letting go. Finally.

Freedom means moving on without looking over your shoulder.

Freedom means singing your own song, no matter how much out of rhythm it is.

Freedom means to look fear in the eye and saying "Bite me, bitch".

Freedom means deciding to risk it, just one more time.

Freedom means telling someone that you love them. Even if they can't hear you.

Freedom means leaving the job you didn't love to chase after the job that you really want.

Freedom means having that last piece of choclate cake. Even though it's too many calories.

Freedom means that even though they can chain you, jail you, trap you, maybe even kill you, but they cannot change who you are and what you believe in.

Freedom. Independence. This is what it means to me. What does it mean to you?

How to be a dumbass in four easy steps

2008-08-13T15:50:00.000-07:00

Step 1: Inspite of having a severe cold, shower with very cold water.

Step 2: Right after the shower, sit in your room with the AC on full blast and the fan running on full speed because "The weather is so bloody humid."

Step 3: Instead of having delicious chicken soup your Mom has made especially for you, go and have a cold can of diet coke. Add ice for extra dumbass points.

Step 4: Refuse to adhere to anyone's advice and have only those kinds of food which aid the frikin flu. Use your own "Hit a cold with loads of ice cream" dumbass logic.

Final Result: End up worse then before and have no one but yourself to blame.

Congratulations, you're now a perfect 10 dumbass. Please take your head out of your derriere and collect your prize.

A two day trip to Urreallyfuckednow town. Enjoy.

Whoever said that happiness is a state of mind was an alcoholic

2008-08-12T20:46:00.000-07:00

They can put a man on the moon, send a mission to mars, shoot a camel in the middle of the Kalahari desert from the sky, divide a fucking molecule into sub-particles, but they cannot come up with a cure for the common cold? Priorities, people. Where are our priorities?

****

You're bravely weathering the flu. You fell as irritated and helpless as the guy trying to teach John McCain about the internet. You decide to watch TV to distract yourself from everything. Then you switch it on, expecting to be entertained out of your miseries, when suddenly you see the following message on your tv:

"The STB cannot receive a signal".

You try to stay calm. You restart and try again. Maybe the bad message will go away. It does not. You then remember that it's satellite television. It does not work during rain, tornadoes, eclipses, sunshine, moonlight, boogie nights etc. Basically the equipment is a piece of crap. Then you get more cranky, call up the customer service and ask them to shove the stb up their useless asses. They pretty much don't have an answer to that, so you bang the phone down. Yes, you showed them.

Then you realize, that you still can't see the flippin TV. Aargh.

****

Thinking positively only works when you're high. Or when you're scaling Mount Everest.

****

I have more medicines flowing in my blood stream right now than Courtney Love has in her medicine cabinet. In fact, I think all the bacteria in my veins must be really, really high right now.

****

Does anybody else find it strange that even though I'm heavily drugged, I can still recall who Courtney love is?

****

This has been one boring, big-ass post. However, please do not blame me. Please blame western medicine. Thanks.

Open Letters: Rated "O" for offensive

2008-08-11T03:54:00.000-07:00

Warning: The following post might be offensive to people who love children, dogs, mothers, early morning risers, parents, family members, know-it-alls, women etc. Consider yourself warned. The author of this blog takes no responsibility whatsoever. Well, you already know that, don't you?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Blogger,

Could you please remove those pictures of those darn kids from my blogger dashboard page. No, I have nothing against children. I sometimes even acknowledge their presence. However, I really don't want to see someone's grown up sperm every time I wish to blog. It really freaks the crap out of me. And I don't freak out easily. Yeah.

which reminds me Dear parents of infants,

You have a child. Well done. Good for you. They cry. They poop. They suck on their mother's tits. Unless baby's first word is the f-bomb, please don't call me with stories you think are funny and cute. Everything a infant does is not worthy of ohmygodyouknowwhatthelittleonehasdonetodayitssocute. And I really don't give a rat's ass. It's that simple, really.

Dear Dog Owners (including my family),

You have a dog. Good for you. They bark. They poop. They smell each others ass. I don't find that cute. Not by a long shot. Thank you. Some of them have that "oh-I-am-so-needy" look going on which reminds me of suppressed straight married (oxymoron) guys. Just keep them out of my room. And my life. Not the straight guys, stupid. Just the dogs.

Dear People who use "." instead of space in their text messages,

Do you see the zero key? For the love of all that is good and pure, please, please, use that to separate your pearls of wisdom. Otherwise.I.Will.Go.Crazy. When you put a "." (referred to as a full stop) after a word, it becomes a sentence. This was perfect when people could only communicate through telegrams. However, advancements in modern technology has provided us with an ability to put spaces between the words we type. Not only is that better, it also does not freak me out. Which is what makes the world go round. No, seriously.

Dear the next person who asks me to buy insurance from their company or get liposuction from their hospital or get their company's credit card,

May a thousand camels feast on your nether regions. May a thousand birds shower your head with their choicest excreta. May your first born be a reality show contestant. May the next muffin you eat be sneezed upon.

Dear people who sit on their high horse and look down upon other mere mortals,

There is no bigger fool than the one who thinks he knows everything. There is also no bigger source of comic relief.

Dear people who love getting up in the morning and are beaming even before their first cup of coffee,

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?? STOP READING THOSE SELF-HELP BOOKS. Life is not all rosy and shit. Jesus frikin Christ. Why can't you wake up groggy and sad like the rest of us. And fyi, it's not called being an optimist, it's called being delusional. Thanks.

Baby's first hate mail

2008-08-08T08:08:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, just when you feel a little down the dumps, something happens which warms the cockles of your heart. The universe lets you know that it is watching over you.

So I thought I'd check my mail a little. Then, I saw a couple of mails which really made my day. It was such a pleasant surprise. My first anonymous hate-mail. Then another. Then another.

Usually I receive hate mail from people I know/have crossed paths with. But for the first time, unknown senders have taken it upon themselves to cheer me up.

Yes, for the those uninitiated in the ways of the whippersnapper, I love it when I receive hate mail. It just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. No, I'm actually not being sarcastic.

So some wonderful souls out there, have asked me a series of questions. Some are personal and some are spiritual. Some are just statements which I've interpreted as questions. I know what you're thinking, that I clearly have too much time. Well, yes, you're right. However, my first few hate-mail senders deserve an honorable mention. After all, they bought me such joy & happiness. So let's answer some questions.

Personal

Q: You said you don't work. You claim to be mooching of your parents. Don't you have any self respect?

A: Self respect is hypothetical. It was made up by some poor schmuck in the early 20th century England because he couldn't afford a room in the Ritz. So, to convince himself, he invented the words "Self Respect". Legend has it, that he kept muttering "I've got self respect, I've got self respect" over and over again to keep himself warm. Alas, that didn't help and after a few hours, he died of cold & hunger. So self respect doesn't even get you a warm cup of coffee or even a torn blanket. Also, modern usage includes a middle-aged woman who leaves her philandering husband after she catches him screwing his secretary. She continuously tells her spinster sister "At least I've got my self respect.". What she really wants is some action. This demonstrates that there is really not much practical use for "self respect", except maybe to provide motivation for a few vague characters in a Daniele Steel novel.

So to answer your question, no, I don't have any self respect. I have air conditioning.

Q: When you say that people hate you, you're right. I hate you more than anything else in the world. I hope you DIE.

A: Awwwww ... You really mean that? Thank you. It's really touching when someone says something so sweet.

Spiritual

Q: How will you reach out to God to atone for your sins?

A: Usually, I just send him a muffin or something through facebook. That does the trick.

Q: When did you sell your soul to the devil?

A: When I was five. But then he couldn't enforce the agreement when I grew up because according to Satanic Laws, contracts signed by minors without the presence of parents and/or guardians are null & void and are not valid in a court of satanic law. You see, I was a sharp cookie even back then.

Q: Your lifestyle has already reserved a seat for you in hell. Repent. Change you ways now and the lord may forgive you. Accept ***** ****** as your lord and savior. If you continue in your ways, you will roast in hell for eternity. For ETERNITY.

A: Meh. I'm pretty much set in my ways. I don't think I can change them. Plus since hell will be filled with a lot of us, I'm guessing I'll be getting lots and lots of action there. So thanks. It's the math, really. Though it's sweet of you to ask. Hopefully, you can find some other chump who will let you ruin his life. There's one born every minute. By the way, I've said it before and I'll say it again, people like you shouldn't be reading Gay blogs. You might CATCH it. *gasp* *gasp*. Now stop tickling my funny bone and get back into the asylum, you hilarious little thing.

Missing Blogger found . . . . . alive

2008-08-06T16:47:00.000-07:00

The Blog police has finally managed to locate the missing blogger, Mr Rambunctious Whippersnapper aka Whippy aka Ramby aka RWS aka Ramb (you get the drift).

Mr WhipperSnapper was found today, lying unconscious on his bed.

He was wearing a black t-shirt which had the words "Mayor of WhipperSnapperville" on the front and "I disappear like that, sometimes" on the back.

The police got suspicious when various blogs started to miss a few stupid, lame, repetitive and moronic comments. It led them to the conclusion that Mr WhipperSnapper is either dead or in a coma. Sadly, he was just missing.

After they found him, there were various attempts to revive him. One fine day a mysterious lady appeared wearing a dress made out of the Union Jack and threw some dew drops on his face. The next day a minister wearing a bandage on one hand and holding a dumbbell on the other, came in and read out some hitherto unheard of psalms from the bible. Also, all the time there was a fly buzzing around him, watching his every move, clamoring for him to wake up.

Then, thanks to his co-conspirators, after a few days, suddenly, he woke up, still a little sedated, muttering "I need to blog ... I need to blog .....", over and over again.

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I know, I know. Very, very cheesy. But I couldn't resist. We shall resume normal programming shortly. You all are wonderful people.

I can't think of a title for every post

2008-07-29T09:57:00.000-07:00

So one of my neighbors is getting married. His ~~funeral~~ marriage procession is just passing by. The band is playing some irritating hindi song which I have drowned out with some hip-hop. I'm practical like that, sometimes.

I don't know why but this suddenly reminded me of the time when I wanted a traditional wedding. That was very long ago, much before I had discovered my inner Satan and dispensed with any and all traditional garbage.

I actually felt bad for my parents. Which in itself is new. They would never have this whole big-traditional-wedding with cute-invitations and multiple-cuisines as far as I'm concerned. Not that they would be surprised. I am anyways a big disappointment and have never made them happy, really. Except that February in 2002 when I suddenly got good grades for the first and last time. No, I hadn't studied, the person sitting next to me was really easy to bribe.

I wonder why suddenly I am concerned with other's happiness? It's quite a strange and unusual feeling. I think it was the vegetarian food I had for lunch. Vegetarian food makes you think. Note to self: Please stick to destroying the ecological balance. Nothing is more noble, really. Dumb green vegetables. Gimme a steak anyday.

When I was younger, I thought I'd have India's first traditional gay wedding. Be the first to send out those groom weds groom cards. But then some stupid lesbian couple beat me to it. Sheesh. Women. They just have to do everything first, init? I mean you got multiple orgasms, let us have something for crying out loud.

Anyways, realistically, if I actually have a wedding, (which I doubt because nobody really likes me), it'll probably be in some first world country which has gay rights and all, with three or four people as witnesses and some kooky old judge pronouncing us as "Partner & Partner". And then we'll head to a dinner for eight at some overpriced restaurant. I mean where's the romance in that? Stupid homophobic straight people.

You know you've spent a quarter of a century on earth

2008-07-28T07:34:00.000-07:00

- if you saw the first Die Hard in a theater during it's original run

- when you can speak of a time when George Micheal and Micheal Jackson were cool

- if you ever owned a Nintendo, a gameboy and a sony walkman

- if you played snake and brickbuilder on your computer

- if you ever owned a dot matrix printer

- when you couldn't imagine an Oscar or Grammy award ceremony without Billy Crystal hosting

- when you remember a time Woody Allen had not yet become a creepy old man and Oprah just had a few hundred million dollars

- if you remember when people used to say "Can we look it up on that internet thing" instead of "google it, bitch"

- when being an Indian tourist in a foreign land meant being asked about "where you park those damn elephants?" or "Is snake charming a high income profession?" or "You mean to say you have electricity in India?"

- if your angst filled teenage days were provided a soundtrack by the music of Linkin Park and Korn

- if you had a huge collection of Simpsons memorabilia

- when you remember a time that music channels used to play only music

- if you used ICQ and IRC chat to connect with all your friends

- if you ever thought that an Indian winning the booker prize was a big deal

- you used to have two words for your friends and teachers (a reference only wwe fans would understand)

- your first cellphone was as big and heavy as a brick

- if you remember the controversy caused by that episode of Seinfeld when they talked about "masturbation" (without actually using the word) for the first time on prime time television

- if you remember the pre-K Jo-ed Shah Rukh Khan and a moderately angry Amitabh Bachchan with real black hair

- if you remember when there was no Gmail and your hotmail account only had 2.5 MB storage

- if you had a huge collection of Archie, TinTin and Asterix & Obelix Comics

- you thank your lucky stars that you were not born at an age when harry potter came to life

- you're a fan of David E Kelly shows

- if you ever thought that reality shows were just a passing fad

- if you've hummed MC Hammer songs

- if you remember dancing to "Everybody by Backstreet boys" when you were really, really, really drunk ... i mean reallllly drunk!!

- when you remember paying for music

- your fist blog was your diary

- if you've ever "chilled out" or made someone "talk to you hand" or exchanged wasssssuuupppppp's with your friends

You know you are obsessed with blogging when

2008-07-24T04:00:00.000-07:00

- you get arrested for attempted homicide and all you think about is how to spin this into a funny anecdote for your blog

- a friend tells you a personal event or anecdote, you thump the table yelling "Post", "Post" (live demonstration provided by this woman)

- you break up with someone by leaving a comment on their latest post in which they gush over your most recent date

- you consider your blogs as part of your estate

- someone says something personal to you, they never fail to add a stern, "Please don't blog this!!" followed by "I MEAN IT"

- you legally change your name to your blog pseudonym

- you don't blog for a day and your readers assume you're dead and they call your local emergency number

- you receive a bad appraisal, and ask for a justification, your boss shows you browsing records which show that you spend 99% of your workday on yourblogname.blogspot.com

- your parents leave the following comment on your blog "Son, please come down and have your dinner. We miss you. It's been four weeks."

- you pretend to suffer from MPD just so you can use the same username for all your blogs

- your conversation skills are limited to "LOL", "Gr8 Post", "LMAO" and "ROTFL"

- your children are named after the people who comment the most on your blog

- you get fired because your boss reads about your "sexy and fun shopping trip to SOHO" on the day you took off supposedly for visiting your sick grandmother in the hospital

- you blog about your date WHILE you are on it

- you can identify your readers by their IP address

- the most exciting thing to happen in your life in the past year was on the day your blog had 100,000 visitors

- you publish more posts in a day than the number of times you take a leak

- you start a blog on the lines of stuff white people like, hoping for a similar book deal

- you quit your job and start writing a book when danbrownfan_1965 writes a comment praising your writing and calling you a future booker prize winner

- you only listen to music by artists who have their own blog on my space

- you haven't seen daylight in six months

- you need to get surgery done on your index finger as it has gone numb because of being frequently used to refresh the comments section of your blog

- your comments on other people's blogs are bigger than their posts

- you remind people that they already have blogged about a particular event

- people close down blogs because of the frequency of your comments

- you ask other people to felicitate you in exclusive blog posts on their blog because you are their most frequent commenter

- you write a list which enumerates symptoms to identify obsessive blogging

Saying Goodbye

2008-07-21T00:15:00.000-07:00

"You need to go out a little" he said. "You can't stay with me the whole day".

"I can. I don't want to be anywhere else but here". I told him.

He looked at me and smiled. He really did not want me to leave.

"Will you promise me something?", he asked me.

"What?", I inquired.

"That you will love me no matter what. That even when I grow old, start losing my memory and appear haggard & wilted compared to the young ones, you will still love me". I could feel that he was scared. My heart ached for him.

"I promise to be by your side for as long as I shall live", I assured him.

He sighed.

"I need another promise", he said, looking away from me.

"What now?", I said, in a mock-irritated tone.

"If I .... cease to function one day,.." he said carefully picking his words, "you will find someone else. You will not grieve over me. And you will give away parts of my body to those who need them. So that I can live another life through them".

I didn't answer.

"Promise me", he demanded.

I nodded my head. It was like acknowledging the elephant in the room. I sighed.

I didn't have enough strength to look up and face him.

"Get the new model to replace me. The one you had your eye on", he told me, half in seriousness, half in jest.

"No one can take your place. You're special. You will always have a place in my heart", I told him.

I meant that and I wanted him to know that.

He then appeared to go into a long slumber.

We knew what was coming. The virus had taken over him. It was just a matter of time.

I thought of all the time we has spent together. All those times we shared a good laugh, those times when he bore the brunt of my anger to relive me of my stress, those long Saturday afternoons we spent playing games with each other. Those winter evenings which we passed reading books and listening to my choice of music and all the good and bad movies we saw together.

I still remember everything like it was yesterday.

We tried all that we could to keep him alive. To make him live another day, to witness one more sunset.

However, the virus was too strong for him to survive it.

Then , suddenly, in a flash, he was gone. Gone forever.

That's when I knew that my favorite computer had processed it's last binary digit.

A Funny Feeling

2008-07-18T01:43:00.000-07:00

Ever since I got up today, it feels like a Saturday. Yes, i know it's a Friday, but somehow today, it just feels like a Saturday. Now some may ask what exactly a Saturday feels like, but then we really can't answer such philosophical questions. Specially on a Friday which feels like a Saturday. Now, usually people may consider this to be an upside, but we know better. If Friday feels like Saturday, then Saturday will feel like Sunday. And Sunday will feel like Monday. The whole process will be ruined. Although, a question arises if that hasn't the whole process already been fucked up beyond recognition and repair?

And the reason we find that feeling like it's Saturday on a Friday is strange because usually life is just a haze. Sunday to Saturday, all pass by in a flash. Each day is filled with the same, dreary feeling that nothing is ever going to change. No day is different. It's all the same. So why does it then, seem like a bloody Saturday, on a bright, shiny Friday?

Maybe there is a deeper, philosophical meaning to all this. Or maybe my mind has finally caved in and actually gone crazy? Who knows? Who cares? Who gives a fuck? Not us.

And then suddenly on a Friday which feels like a Saturday, we have an epiphany. Among other things, we realize that we find the world, so ....... so ........ so ...... funny.

Don't know why, but today everything just seems funny.

It's funny that people kill each other because they don't share the same religious beliefs. It's funny that we are fussy about olives in our martini while orphans in Africa die of hunger. It's funny that a 15 year old kid is killed by his friend because he dared to ask him out. It's funny that people make their own lives a living hell because they want to subscribe to some sort of moral standard. It's funny that people live their whole life trying to fit into the role that society has set for them. It's funny that the very same people who have children so that they aren't alone when they grow old, end up in an old people's home. It's funny that the world has just been deprived of a good writer/doctor/musician because a husband wants his wife to stay at home and attend to the kids. It's funny that someone right now in some part of the world is thinking of killing themself because they feel alone, neglected, and have lost all hope. It's funny how people take themselves so seriously that they forget how to laugh. It's funny how some people feel that it is okay to deny other people the same rights that they themself enjoy, because they fear that their own children might grow up to be like the others. It's funny how that even thought most laws say that all people are born equal we still honor kings and queens, crowned and uncrowned?

Yes, on a Friday which feels like a Saturday, I am highly amused. Or maybe it's just me.

Isn't it funny that if by accident you did something nice for someone, it might have restored their faith in humankind? Isn't it funny when you finally realize that the only acceptance you were looking for, was your own? Isn't it funny how we want to keep trying to define other people based on our own judgment and understanding? Isn't it funny that when something that turned out to be disastrous at one point of time, actually made everything fine in the end? Isn't it funny that if we don't lose hope and keep searching, one day we will find what we were looking for? And then look back and think that all the stress, all the mental turmoil, just seems a little bit ...... funny? Isn't it funny that your stubbornness is the only thing preventing you from picking up that phone and calling your loved one? Isn't it funny that the only thing preventing you from chasing your dream is you? Isn't it funny that when people you had pegged out in your mind, turn around and do something which catches you by surprise? Isn't it funny that people make life a game, which they try to play every waking moment? Isn't it funny when you realize that all the games were futile and all you need to do is to listen to your heart? Isn't it funny that someone, somewhere right now, just decided to give life another chance? Isn't it funny that a phone call can prevent a person from becoming a dead statistic? Isn't it funny that we spend all our lives chasing after money and fame and when we get it, it feels empty and hollow? Isn't it funny that sometimes happiness is just a good book, a warm cup of coffee and the pitter-patter of rain on your window?

Yes, on a Friday which feels like a Saturday, I am highly amused. Or maybe it's just me.

I'm nice like that . . . sometimes

2008-07-16T18:29:00.000-07:00

So I'm kind of in the middle of an important decision about which book to read next and then suddenly I get informed that there are some people who have come to see me. I wonderd who they were because usually people are polite and well mannered enough to call before coming to see me. This way I can make an excuse to not meet the people I don't want to. Nothing personal, but I just don't like to meet people who just love having the same conversation over and over again. I mean, college and school were a few years ago, get over it and learn to talk about books, music and politics. That is why it's important to screen your visitors.

Anyway, I go to receive these people and I am surprised to see them. Because I don't remember who they are and what connection I have to them. And the worse thing is, they are very happy to see me. Then in my mind, I eliminate various possiblities about their identity. First, I rule out the possibility of them being my cousins. Clearly, these people look like they survive on two meals a day, so I cannot be related to them and even if I was, they wouldn't be happy to see me at all. So then I think that they must be from my ex-workplace. Because I remember I used to ignore most of the people there under the pretense of "working". And I used to avoid going to office parties by telling them I use my off time helping orphans. Helping how, you ask? Well by having all the vodka I can get my hands on so that there is none left for the kids. I'm nice like that, sometimes.

Moving on, I'm thinking that either they are from my school or college, albeit from the section of those people that I ignored. Which could a lot of people. Or maybe they are printer salesmen? Who the fuck knows? So I thought I'll find out.

While I'm thinking and trying to figure out their identity, those two people extend their hand, which after pondering about it for two minutes, I shake. Then, they proceeded to talk to me as if they were good friends with me. I am really surprised because I don't think I know them from Adam. I take out my phone and send a text to my brother and Dad to keep an ear open in case they hear me shouting for assistance. Not that I would need any, these people look like I could take them both and still have one hand free for eating ice cream, but people have all sorts of weapons these days.

Anyways, they tell me some story of being our neighbors once upon a time and me playing with them when I was a kid and teaching them english and about rolling their r's or something. Sounds like me. Though I wasn't paying much attention to what they were saying because I was appaled by the shirt one of them was wearing. It clearly looked like it was made from three other shirts and some leftover tablecloth. Anyways, I don't judge people like that, so I tried to make conversation. Maybe they wanted money? Anyways, one of them told me about his sister's wedding. Since I assumed both of them were brothers, as they had the whole "I-need-a-job" look going on, I congratulated both of them. I'm nice like that, sometimes. Turns out they were just friends. Doesn't matter, no harm, no foul.

Anyway, they wanted to inquire about one of the people who I supposedly worked with. I told them I really don't know much about 95% of the people I worked with, except maybe rating them on the bad emails they write. I also add that if he still works at my ex-workplace even after 4 years, he must be either very patient or have no talent whatsoever. I also told them that they could've just called me and asked me all this and that there was no need to come so far (I assumed they live somehwere far off, I didn't bother to ask where). Then they asked for my number and I think I gave them one of my out-of-work numbers because I really don't want to be their friend. Nothing personal, but I just don't see ourselves having anything in common to talk about. I mean, clearly they don't have time to read books or watch and understand Boston Legal.

And as I always do, I took the opportunity to educate them on calling beforehand when coming to meet someone. Just dropped a hint or two, nothing major. As I said, I'm nice like that sometimes.

The Rated R Rant

2008-07-13T12:00:00.000-07:00

Warning: The following blog post is not suitable for people with low tolerance quotient for the f-word and for those who have a weak heart because of language and content. Skip it if you fall in any of the above demographics. For the rest, come let's all get angry together and box a punching bag. And if you still read it and find it offensive, well, pardon my French.
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- People have got to enter rehab for facebook addiction. No, I don't care if you're out shopping for your wedding dress or you just broke your arm. It really would make no difference to my life if you didn't invite me to contests which ask such high-brow questions like which serial killer you think like or what your blond index is. Also, there is a reason I have not contacted you in the past five years, I fucking don't want to. Superpoke this, , bitch.

- I beseech people to stop making the same old fat jokes. Aright. We're fat. We eat. Try to think of something more original, you malnutritioned moron. At least don't insult my intelligence and move your lazy ass to google for some new material. I love to laugh at myself but at least go beyond the "haha!! you will break the chair" or the classic "Do you want to supersize that? Lol." joke. I'm really not amused. The only thing that is supersized is the duration of your stay at the lame-o-rama motel. And the next guy who looks at me when the lift beeps because it is overloaded, as there are more people than it can carry, is going to have to get my shoe surgically removed from his ass.

- I really don't understand how people can talk about stuff they don't know with such authority. If you fucking don't beleive in same-sex marriage, then don't marry someone of the same sex. It's as simple as that. Elementary, my dear homophobe. Or do you want me to spell it out for you, you sanctimonious, righteous, self-loathing, miserable, unhappy, son of a bitch? It's not a fucking disease you moron. You're kids are not going to catch it.

- People have to stop getting so hyper over the iPhone. It's a bleeding phone, dammit. Were you drugged as a child? Is it really that important to you that you stand in line, without any food or water, without using any facilities, from 5 am in the morning, for more than 4 or 5 hours, and then being told that the store is out of stock? Don't you realize that the iPhone is nothing but an iWash and a real iPain in the ass? No offense meant, though.

- People from my old workplace have got to stop calling me and complaining. I mean, if you really feel that you're being screwed and not being recognized for your hard work and shit, then do what I did, RESIGN, motherfuckers. Don't keep crying like a little girl. Even if you are a "little" girl.

- People need to stop doling out free advice. Do I really care what big-loser-with-no-life-and-three-kids thinks about the virtues of marriage? Do you really beleive that I'm going to take someone who has a hairdo which was in vogue in 1925 seriously and heed his career advice? The only people whose advice I care about are the ones who can tell me to go "Do what you want and go fuck off and die" after I consistently don't listen to them and all the people who read this blog (give yourself a big hug, dear reader). Besides them, unless you're asked, please have a nice, warm, hazelnut flavored cup of shut the fuck up. For example, I don't go around telling certain people that they if they have kids it would be a crime against humanity because the kids will be born ugly and dumb and no one deserves that. At least not to their face. I write them letters on a nice piece of stationary. Common courtesy biatch.

So who do YOU want to rant against?

Clueless Wisdom

2008-07-08T04:24:00.000-07:00

Now, we realize that we are in no position to pontificate and impart any sort of wisdom. In fact, we are legally obligated not to. However, we do feel the need to enumerate certain facts of life for people who are as clueless as we are:

- you raise eyebrows when you show up for an exam in a drunken state and then shrug your shoulders and say "C'mon .. it was fuckin New Year's Day ..." to the examiner; however things iron out themselves when you score the highest in that particular exam while you fail miserably in the ones which you attempted when you were sober

- it is not okay to tell your Dad's business associate, even if you mean to be subtle, that you don't think he possesses the maturity level required to understand The Godfather and are thus not going to lend it to him under any circumstance

- it is somewhat excessive to have an email debate spanning 54 messages sent back and forth with your company's Human Resources department about whether a certain type of trouser qualifies as formal wear or not

- it can somehow harm your career a little bit when you tell your boss's boss to go ahead and "get a life and for fuck sake and stop bloody bugging me just because you feel the need to justify your pay"

- in some circles it is considered inappropriate to make a lot of jokes that imply that a newly wedded couple might have committed incest by getting married; specially right before their wedding night in front of their extended family & friends

- some mothers do not consider tuna salad and black coffee as a replacement for green vegetables and milk no matter how many fake statistics you quote; it just goes to prove that you can fool anyone in the whole world but you just can't fool Mom

- it is not well received when you look at a new born baby and insist that he looks more like the couple's driver and less like the father; you surprisingly are not made to feel welcome in the couple's house afterwards

- your advice is not welcomed when you tell someone who just graduated from school that "life is going to suck anyway so it doesn't matter whateverthefuck you choose as a career"

At peace with my Old age

2008-07-05T20:00:00.000-07:00

So as everybody would be wondering, (or not, nobody reads this blog anyway), why the recent spate of dramatic, over-the-top, melancholy-infested posts?

Well, old age is upon us. No, we aren't filling for senior citizen benefits just yet, but we are proceeding towards a particular two digit numbers which, for gay men and struggling starlets, bring forth a feeling of sadness, despair, itchiness, claustrophobia and a general disappointment which makes you question the very point of your existence.

However, certain people (we call them fellow bloggers/friends/fag hags) in the world were (unfortunately for them) assigned to bring us back onto earth by the big, bad queer in the sky. (Yes, God is Gay ..... why else would he take weekends off? .. And he's also American ... no, don't panic ..... shit happens ..... deal with IT). So they succeed in their task and did help us postpone the path to imminent monk-ism. (No, not the one who sold his Ferrari. The one who actually abstains from heterosexual sex. Yes, Gay sex is allowed in monk-ism. You people know nothing. Hmph.)

So we kind of made peace with the fact that we are growing old. We liked that we would be somewhat respected (don't count on it), allowed to stand for office in our fair land (or was that last year?? Dunno. I can't tell you everything .. Some things you need to find out yourself .. Geez), and be able to refer to insolent 20 to 22 year olds as "young man" (though this makes us sound really creepy .. and I mean catholic priest creepy, so we have decided not to use it again unless some insolent young man pesters us), get to use words like aberrant and obstreperous and can look forward to accessing our trust funds in a few years time (though my Dad has assured me multiple times that the only way I could get any more money from him would be if I get off my butt and start working but I do not see that happening soon ... and my Dad appears to be really set in his decision and no amount of emotional blackmail has moved him to change his decision ... but I still won't give up ... I have a right to mooch of my parents .... No, you can't judge me on that. We all have a purpose in life, and that is mine.)

So we somehow came to the conclusion that being young again is not as hot as it is cracked up to be. I mean, most of my teenage memories consist of me being awkward and horny. And nothing much has changed since then. In fact the intensity of both the may have increased manifold.

So I'd rather be at this age, flushed with lots of wisdom to impart, armed with the knowledge that credit card bills cannot be mailed to Santa Claus & and being referred to as Sir, lord, your highness, when I enter a respectable establishment.

So to everyone out there who is wallowing in the pain and somewhat relief of being closer to the date of expiration, don't fret. All you need to feel better is some sort of Tequilla and a few DVD's of Dante's Cove. Trust me. It works wonders.

And all these factors helped me concur that everything just might work itself out in the end.

And if it doesn't, one is never late for monk-ism.

The Post you can't pigenhole

2008-07-04T18:37:00.001-07:00

How much do we actually know someone? Can we even get to know someone?

We all have people in our lives who we love, who we cherish and somewhere in our subconscious we peg them down for some stereotypical role. We might do it without it ringing a bell in but I think most humans tend to do that. Or maybe it's me. Who knows?

Then suddenly they turn around and say something or an event takes place and they surprise you with their reaction and suddenly you see them with new light. You suddenly realize that you hardly know who they are.

So that begs the question, how much do we actually know the people we know?
Do we really know everything there is to know about them or do we just get to know only what they want us to know? Or is it our fault that we presume them to be a certain why based on their previous behavior?

Don't we in some way or the other, stereotype people? Yes, most of us do that. In a very subconscious way. And others do that to us to.

Fat people are fat because they overeat.

Or women who meet men to who they are not married to without explicit written consent from their husband are promiscuous.

Gay men are just waiting to pounce upon straight people who have no idea of what's going to hit them.

Two people of the opposite sex are talking. OhmyfuckingGod, they must be doing each other.

Oh, he's Indian, he must love cricket, melodramatic movies and eating with his own hands.

Oh she's Indian, she must love wearing Sarees, making babies and eating with her own hands.

Oh, that dude looks Oriental, must be Chinese.

Oh he's Mexican, must be an illegal immigrant working on someone's garden.

Oh look, she's white, must be easy.

Oh, she said no to me. Must be a lesbian.

Oh, he said no to me. Must be gay .. (well, maybe she was right in my case) ...

You get the idea ....

Yes, most of us do that. Without blinking an eyelid. (When I say most of us, I'm generalizing. I do not mean you OR me. Specially me. Now don't judge. This post is supposed to be anti-judging. I know, I know, hypocrite. But that's the way the cookie crumbles.)

If we meet someone who seems to have a common attribute with someone else, we do fill in the rest of the boxes based on the characteristics of other people we met.

A lot to do with this factor is how certain types of people are represented in the media.

For example, if we look at how the Indian media portrays Gay people, it is far, far away from reality. In fact, they make it appear to be okay to make fun of someone because of their sexual orientation. Not that the American media is absolved of this. I mean the Gay jokes made by Jay Leno and Lettermen are cringe worthy, as apparent from the recent "My Gayest look" controversy.

Maybe what I'm trying to say is that looking at things objectively, there is a need to shun conventional wisdom and look at each person individually.

Not every Gay guy is like the cast of Will & Grace nor is any woman easy because of her color and not all Mexicans come to the US illegally.

The opinion we form of a person, says volumes about who we are.

And no, I'm not trying to be preachy here. Just bouncing of some thoughts.

After all, we need to tell ourselves, "I am unique. Just like everyone else."

The Happening . . .

2008-07-02T00:22:00.000-07:00

I think I'm going soft in the head or I am being overtaken by a virus which takes over your mind and converts you into an emotional wreck ....

Don't beleive me?

I present the following:

Exhibit A:

I was in a coffee shop with a friend last week and our order was taken by a new trainee who didn't know her lemon ice tea from her frozen granitas. And after taking her own sweet time and finally understood the order, I did NOT give her a hard time. Yes. I refrained from telling her off and did not make sure that she left her job and did not force her to look for an alternate career at Pizza Hut.

I actually let her SERVE us the beverages. OMFG.

Exhibit B:

Two days later, at another coffee shop, with another set of friends, a barista took our order. And I clearly told him that I want my cappuccino with (please note that I said WITH) an extra shot of espresso and that server (I shan't call him a barista cause clearly he needed a lesson in his lattes and mochas) had the gall to come back and ask if I actually wanted the espresso in my drink. And instead of giving him a lecture on the use of the word "with" and frivolity of ordering an espresso shot outside of another drink, all I did was just nod my head in answer to his question.

Just. a. head. nod.

That's like treason in WhipperSnapperland. T-R-E-A-S-O-N.

Therefore, I conclude that a virus has taken over me. Yes. As hollywood has proven time and again, a virus like this takes over one person and then spreads to the whole human race. (C'mon, was I the only one forced to sit through the agonizing second season of heroes?)

And then strange things start to happen.

Like having a caffe macchiato with foamed *gasp* *gasp* milk??

Or allowing a bartender to serve a martini with vodka?

Or not judging someone who wears a bluetooth headset like a hearing aid?

Or not telling parents of rude kids that their children are less trained than my pets??

Oh! the Humanity .....

I can't let this happen. Nay ... I won't let this happen. I'm going to cure myself of such deviant behavior and protect the human race.

Move over global warming. The world's got a new foe.

nothingness

2008-06-27T16:13:00.000-07:00

The darkness that I see outside my window is the same darkness which i feel inside my heart. For everyone around me, I smile, put on a happy face, be this mountain of joy. But i cannot hide the truth from myself. i cannot look in the mirror and not see the truth.

the world wants me to celebrate. the world expects me to celebrate. but what do i celebrate.

The pain of knowing that i have spent most of my adult life pretending to be someone i am not or the constant yearning for that special someone in whose ears i can whisper three little words, and for the first time in my life, mean them?

every year, this time i take stock. i promise myself, that this time it will be different. that i wont repeat the same mistakes. that by this time next year, things will be different. by this time next year, i will accomplish a few things that i set out to do, many, many years ago.

but that is the same promise i made last year. and the year before that. now i know not to trust my mind when it tells me that everything will be better next year. that all the planets will be in order and the moon will not eclipse the sun.
but by now i know better. i know the truth. nothing changes, things only get worse. there is no light at the end of the tunnel. the tunnel is a big loop which keeps going in circles taking your life along with it. until the circle is broken by the sweet, freedom inducing release of death.

do i celebrate the cloud of darkness that i see over my head everytime i look in the mirror or do i celebrate the fact that on days like these, or when i do something special, when i look next to me, i see nothing but an empty space.

yes, for the record i am happy. i play my role well. i know my lines. i have been practicing them for years. i even know the emotions i need to display. i know the answers to the questions people ask me. i know when to laugh at the jokes they attempt to crack which i know are not funny. but then i go on doing the same thing, year after year. for what? nothing gained, nothing lost.

but when i am alone, under that cloud of darkness, i know the truth. i cannot delude myself. i try but i cannot make the pain go away.

i want to cry my lungs out, but my eyes are dry. there are no tears. a certain numbness takes over me. where i talk, i speak, i see, i hear, i laugh, i get angry but i am not here. i am somewhere far away. somewhere i don't even know.

somedays i feel like that dream in which i keep falling, keep falling into an endless maze which has no end. i just hope to hit that sacred land that finally breaks my fall and i finally have the silence i want. the silence i search for. the silence where i don't hear anything. where nothing is said. where no questions are asked, no answers are given, no expectations are left unfulfilled, no wrong emotion is shown, where there is no distance between truth and reality, where whichever side you see, there is just empty, silent space. a silence which i haven't heard since the day i opened my eyes. just, pure, unadulterated silence. will i ever have that?

My work here is done

2008-06-23T16:54:00.000-07:00

So we were expecting a few (or a few dozen, I didn't pay much attention) people for dinner at our humble abode we call home. As our kitchen was temporarily short staffed due to one of our support staff/household help (whatever... I hate the term servants, sounds so 1884) running away (possibly a consequence of some of my actions, but we'll let that be for now), other members of my family were dividing a few tasks between themselves.

And as always, being the shining light onto the world that I am, I decided to volunteer my services to help them (because I felt a bit Christmas-sy, not because I had any guilt. Why would you think that? Geez.)

Right.

Apparently my family thought I was joking. Not that I blame them. So after a few minutes, after the loud laughter subsided, they continued their conversation, ignoring my expert advice.

Afterwards, when everyone went their way, sensing my opportunity, I went to the only person in the whole world who'll endorse my candidacy for President, my Mom. Then the following conversation ensued:

Me: So, Mom i wanna help out . . .
Mom: .. that joke is getting old, now ....
Me: No, seriously
Mom: Ok.... If you really want to help, just get ready on time ...
Me: Sure, I'll do that .. that's reasonable ...
Mom: And by on time I mean before the guests are scheduled to arrive, not when half the evening is over ....
Me: .... Ok, That's a little too much but do-able ....
Mom: And then come out of your room and say HI to them ....
Me: (*rolling eyes*, *shrugs*, *throws hands in the air*) Fine .... if you insist ....
Me: But seriously Mom, I wanna help ... anything I can do ...
Mom: No .. it's ok .... thanks ... it's the thought that counts ...
Me: Mom, please ..... I promise it It won't affect the once-in-six-months-schedule
....
Mom: Ok ... Ok .... Let's see .... if you really want to do something .......
Me: Yeah ....
Mom: Don't call the household help to do small tasks like fetching your shoes from YOUR cupboard ... or getting a can of Diet Coke from the refrigerator .... until the last of the guests have left ...
Me: WHAT? ... *gasp* *gasp* That is blasphemous .....it curtails my fundamental rights guaranteed under the constitution ..... it's forcing me to do something which is not only difficult but quite impossible ....
Me: *regaining composure* *tones down crazy* ... However, If that helps ....
Mom: Yes, it does ......
Me: Ok ..... that is asking too much .... but in the spirit of helping, I will not ask them to do such errr...ummm.... ahem .... *cough* small *cough* tasks....
Mom: Thank you .....
Me: Well, I'm just glad I could help out . . .
Mom: Yes, I don't know what I would have done without your help, son ....

Touché.

You know, sometimes, Mothers say the darnest things!!

For all those naysayers who doubted the degree and extent of my laziness . . . the defense rests. Metaphorically and physically.

Do what now???

2008-06-18T08:37:00.000-07:00

In the past two weeks, the following devices in my room have malfunctioned - Mobile Phone, Backup Mobile Phone, Backup Mobile Phone Charger, A backup mobile phone I borrowed from my brother, A.C., A.C. Fuse (twice), Satellite TV & Radio, TV, Internet (Multiple Occasions, in fact while I was writing this)

So to say that I'm having a bad week electronic wise would be an understatement. As always, such events led to more questions:

Is this a coincidence? Why does everything I touch turn into a pile of unusable crap? Should I call people I don't like and use my powers to spoil their stuff? How will I call them? Is this limited to electronics? Will this effect other things I touch?

*VERY ALARMED*

... Let me check ... Okay uummmmmm .... That guy Saviola'a nice .....Wait ...wait for it ... yeah ... We're good here ...all systems go .......Whew!! Electric items only ........Scared the crap out of me. Typical male, right? Why does everything revolve around sex?

What's wrong with always thinking about sex? that's lesbian propaganda ... you ... idiot ... By the way ..Stop thinking about Saviola!!

Of course, he's so hot, how can you not think of him?? Stupid question. ........ NO... Focus, focus. Why is it so dark in here? WHAT HAPPENED? ... Switch on the lights first, jackass! Ok. Does that mean I have to get up? Crap. Damn. Double Damn. WTF do you mean double damn? What are you, a kid on Full House ... or a character from the 60's batman series? .... STFU and walk slowly now. You don't want to bump into anything and break it.

What's that thing near your feet? IT'S BREATHING!!! ....NOW IT'S LICKING YOUR FEET ........ JESUS CHRIST ...WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKK..... Oh ..wait ..... it's just the dog ...Whew!! The lights stupid ....Get the lights .... hey look what the dog is doing...... funny mutt ...hehe ...Now... what did I have to do now ? ... Gawd!! ... my short attention span... Gawd!! ...didn't i just say that .....whatever..... I need to hire an assistant .... A hot assistant who looks like Saviola ..... Will you stop with the whole Saviola thing .... there are other things in life too .... Like what? ..... Well, there's Brian Kendrick .....and Mario Lopez ...... yeah i know .....now what did i get up for .....did I have lunch yet?? .... ...

See how much I love you guys? Who else would be ~~stupid & crazy~~ secure enough to post their conversation with themselves???

Now, what were we talking about again? Damn, did I mention I have a short attention span?

Freaky Friday

2008-06-13T14:00:00.000-07:00

Why is each and every single person you meet at a public function obligated to ask you "So where are you working these days?" ? Are you only defined by where you work? Whatever happened to talking about the weather? When did that go out of fashion?

Why do children have to be so darn nice sometimes to make you (for a small period of time) want to have you own? And then spoil the moment by asking something so inanely stupid like Are you married??? that you laugh like Santa Claus high on crack ?

Why do you have to listen to a song after a long period of time and be reminded of a time in your life when you had dreams? When you didn't know that life is a like desert filled with a few small oasis of happiness? Why does it remind you of a time when you thought that you would one day grow up and change the world and not end up like everyone else? Why does that seem so stupid when you think about it now?

Why does the news of your favorite teenage waterhole being closed make you feel like someone who has already been canceled from prime time and is now running in syndication ?

What makes you want to spend a few days with your head in the sand just like an Ostrich? Just talk to no one, see or read nothing, just keep your head buried while you temporarily switch off your brain?

Why is it that you can't identify your emotions and actually know what the hell is wrong with you?

Why do you wake up one day and feel like everything around you has changed and then when the warm cup of black coffee brings you back to your senses (or whatever) you realize the only thing that changed was you?

Why do you keep procrastinating and not doing things you know you really need to do? Things you know would only benefit you?

Why do people have to assume that after living in a city for more than two decades would make you an expert at navigating through it?

Why do you lie awake at night thinking all these thoughts end up not sleeping for more than 24 hours??

The "me" Meme

2008-06-07T06:16:00.000-07:00

Extry! Extry!! Tagged by Pepe.

Rules of the meme:

1. The blogger needs to write ten secrets about himself
2. Tag another ten people (Muhahahaha)

Since I'm supposed to spill secrets about myself, I actually dug deep, real deep.

So here goes, ten secrets about myself. *cue drum roll*

1. I suck at Hindi. It's supposed to be my first language, but I am absolutely horrendously incapable of reading or writing hindi correctly. I can speak it and understand it really well, but when it comes to reading or writing it, I am usually very wrong, much to the amusement of others.

2. Inside my overworked and underpaid heart, I'm a big frikin old school romantic. I actually want to meet someone for the first time, feel the sparks fly when we shake hands [or hug ..:P] and hear The Reason playing in the background as he falls in love with me while I act all cool and nonchalant.

Fine, fine. Go ahead and make fun of me. I can already hear people pointing and laughing.

*runs inside his room and slams door*

3. I really love books. No, I mean really I'd-even-dump-someone-who-reads-the-wrong-kind-of-books kind of love.
Imagine the following:

One day at a fine restaurant two boys are having their first date over good food and wine. After they finish eating, they head home. After a very satisfying .ummm..night's sleep, when they wake up in the morning, the following conversation takes place over juice, sausages and coffee:

boy 1: You have so many books ...
boy 2: (who I suspect we all know) Yes, I read a lot ....
boy 1: Well, I really don't get time to read much ... just a few books here and there
boy 2: (now in a state of alarm) (puts down the food) Which was the last book you read??
boy 1: The Da Vinci Code
boy 2: (flabbergasted) We need to talk ... *long pause*
boy 2: it's not you ...*brief pause* it's your books ..........

The above conversation might even take place sometime in the future. I think me and my books need to see other people. At least I need to do!! And yeah, I know I shouldn't be so ~~anal~~ particular about stuff like this.

4. I am extremely lazy. I hardly do anything for the people I live with (my family). In fact, these people have been taught to only ask me to do something once every six months. If I didn't have such a bright, illuminating presence, I'd feel sorry for them.

5. I haven't met an argument I couldn't win.

6. I am religious, spiritual, agnostic and an atheist all at the same time. Go figure. Even God's like "Pick an effing side, jackass".

7. I have lots of catchphrases and one liners which people around me steal a lot. I'm like the gay Seth Cohen. Except I am really not into comic books. Or chics.

8. I am addicted to coffee. in fact I have more cups of coffee than people have glasses of water. In an unrelated story, I like Vodka too. I'm just sayin.

9. My room is a big mess. I can only find things when they are where they should not be. If my room is neat and tidy and everything is in it's rightful place, I get a panic attack (well, almost).

10. I dunno anything about fashion. I wouldn't know a Gucci from a Valentino if it bit my ..errr.. nose. My dress mantra: Grab what's clean and nearby. (FYI Might need a makeover. Queer Eye for the Gay Guy perhaps??).

In fact, if I owned a Gay TV network, it would be more gay Big Brother and less Project Runway. Nooooo, don't throw me out. Wait. Listen ......

So those were a few secrets about me.

And now, I tag the following people. (Don't make that face. You got to know my secrets, it's only fair that I get to know yours. Didn't you learn when you were a kid, you see mine, I see yours. Hell, I still use this logic to justify a lot of my actions).

Chandni

Hish

Rebel

CT

Orange

FireFoxCub

And everyone else who reads the post.

So Pepe, where is my prize now?

The one with the Gay Universe

2008-06-01T05:18:00.000-07:00

wc1: "Haha" .. "That was so gay"
me: So?
wc1: That was gay ...
me: SOOOOOOO?
wc1: Dude ... I said that was gay ......
me: And your point is ...... ?

So I had this insane conversation with a former work colleague (the one mentioned in this post). And as it usually happens with me, right after this silly conversation I had an epiphany.

I realised that for me, being gay has now become part of my personality (whatever little I have). It's become a non-issue. To me it is now as much a part of me like the hair on my head or the color of my eyes. It's not something that is on my mind a lot these days. Somedays I find that I'm reminding myself "Hey, You're Gay!!".

It seems that the the anguish over being gay that I was going through over the past few years has gone. While I still am trying to figure out a few things but as far as being gay is concerned, I'm ready to rumble.

So the things I used get torchered thinking about earlier now seem so natural, like a part of the flow of life. Even though i still have miles to go, like Neo from the Matrix, at least I'm sure about the door I need to open.

(Note: Please let me know if you got what I'm talking about. Cause I didn't. Thanks.)

Like when I picture myself in the future I don't imagine a house with a trophy wife and three kids running around or being estranged from everybody, but what I imagine is growing old with a cute guy [whose remained cute while I have grown fat and bald ..eeek no ...I'd rather die ... so just fat ... or not .. just forget it ..let's move on y'all...] living in a house which has it's own private beach being served alcoholic beverages while we relax and talk about politics, books, music, sex and how our straight friends are still attending to their children.

*Snaps out of dream*

The moral of the story is that the WhipperSnapper is actually at peace with the gay universe (gaverse? unigay?? whatever). Who wuda thunk it?

A letter to Mother Nature

2008-05-21T21:00:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-08T00:33:00.000-07:00

* 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

2008-05-06T01:35:00.001-07:00

We're feeling random and superficial and frivolous today.

****
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.

******
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.

*****

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].

****

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.

-----------------

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.

Collector's Edition: Last Ryan Post

2008-04-29T22:22:00.001-07:00

So I haven't had any communication with Ryan for almost two months now. I didn't crumble under all that pressure. No email, text, or ping. Nothing.

He leaves today for his Uni. How do I know? Well, I read the conversation he had with one of his friends in the social-networking-website. I know what your thinking, so no, I'm not stalking anyone. Well, not anymore anyway.

When I was reading the messages he had exchanged with his friend, I kind of felt strange. It was like reading a conversation between two strangers. Or someone from another life. And then somewhere in my mind I heard Christina Applegate go "This Guy???" [mandatory FRIENDS reference]. It seemed like I didn't even know him. It seemed as if I had created a version of him in my mind and I fell for that. I just don't know.

I thought when this day would come I would be heartbroken and sad. Surprisingly I am neither.
In fact, I am simply amazed at how calm and collected I am. Though I do have this trickle of emptiness somewhere in my heart.

Do I still love him? Well, not anymore I think. I still have some feelings for him buried somewhere in my heart but I don't think I love him anymore. I think subconsciously I've come to accept that him and me are never going to happen. Can we ever stop loving someone? I don't know.

However, it doesn't mean that what I felt for him wasn't true. It was. The pain, the emotional turmoil, it was all true. I lived it for more than three years.

I also believe that people enter our lives to teach us a lesson or to help us move along in our journey and that once we learn that lesson they exit our life. So for that I am thankful to Ryan. Because of the feelings I had for him are what ultimately led me to confront myself a few months ago, and be able to find the strength to be my true self. So his leaving the city is kind of symbolic too.

Am I crazy or am I just reading too many self-help books?? :P

The funny thing is he has no fucking idea!! To him I'm still the good friend turned casual acquittance.

Am I ready for my first gay relationship? Maybe, maybe not. I don't know.
All I know that whatever this is, I can now try to move on with my life. [look at me, I'm growing up!!] To the next exciting/mildly boring chapter. Or in the immortal words of Joey Tribiani It's time to pick up a spoon [I really to stop referencing lines from FRIENDS. It's like a disease or something].

So hopefully, as the title specifies, this is my last post about Ryan. And, for the sake of sanity, finally I can bring myself to say:

Goodbye Ryan, Have a nice life!! Thanks for the memories. We will always have that plate of Maggie Noodles.

2008-04-27T19:45:00.001-07:00

The Godfather is the BEST book EVER. E-V-E-R.

Tag ....

2008-04-26T04:34:00.000-07:00

We've been tagged ........ by Chandni.

We took our time, because we take time to think and we finally compiled the list.

Rules of the tag: Various situations are given. You have to come up with a song ( or a couple) that aptly describe those situations in YOUR life.

Opening credits: Superstar - Lupe Fiasco / Touch the sky - Kanye West

Waking up: Wake up Call - Maroon 5 / Let's get it started - Black Eyed Peas

Average day: Rollin - Limp Bizkit / Rehab - Amy Winehouse

First date: Smooth - Santana & Rob Thomas / Pimp Juice - Nelly / The Reason - Hoobastank

Falling in love: Hey there Delilah - Plain White T's / Somethin Stupid - Frank Sinatra / How Bizzare - OMC / Ayo Technology - 50 Cent

Love scene: Don't stop the music - Rihana/ Let's get blown - Snoop Dogg & Pharrel / Deep Inside of you - Third Eye Blind

Fight scene: The Game - Motorhead / One Blood - The Game [different people]

Breaking up: Your Fault - Plain White T's / Love is a losing game - Amy Winehouse / We used to be Friends - The Danny Warhols / Right now - Carrie Underwood / Over You - Chris Daughtry

Getting back together: My Way - Limp Bizkit / Like you'll never see me again - Alicia Keys

Secret love: In the closet - Micheal Jackson / Tattoo - Jordin Sparks / Broken - Chris Daughtry

Life's okay: That's the way I Like It - KC & the Sunshine Band / Hotel California - Eagles

Mental breakdown: In the End - Linkin Park / Crawling - Hoobastank

Driving: California - Phantom Planet (on an empty highway) / Fuck off and Die - Green Day (in city traffic)

Learning a lesson: I Don't wanna be - Gavin DeGraw / Shadow of the Day - Linkin Park / We are the champions - Queen / All Right Now- Free

Deep thought: Bittersweet Symphony - The Verve / Chase this light - Jimmy Eat World / Voodoo Child - Jimi Hendrix

Flashback: Thank You - Dido / Sing for the moment - Eminem & Aerosmith

Partying: Low - Flo Rida / Give it to Me - Nelly Furtado & Timberlake & Timbaland

Happy dance: Weapon of Choice - Fat Boy Slim / Blame it on the boogie - Jackson Five and the version by Jay Kid

Regretting: What I've done - Linkin Park / Running Away - Hoobastank

Long night alone: Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Green Day / How to save a life - The Fray

Death scene: King of Kings - Motorhead

Closing credits: Theme from Don (2006) redone by Linkin Park (I'll get that song commissioned some day :D) / Someday - Flypside

And I tag:

Sam

Pepe

Hish

Rebel

Orange

Have fun kids!! :D

The second coming . . . . out

2008-04-19T12:30:00.000-07:00

We thought it would be a normal boring Saturday. We had a real fun evening planned. We had ordered Chinese take out and planned to read Side Effect by Woody Allen. Then, John, our friend from school, called to see if we can meet for dinner. So we canceled our other plans and decided to meet John. And we decided that we would be telling John today.

While getting ready, to distract ourselves, we mused:

- Which cologne in appropriate for coming out?
- Does my hair look good enough for coming out? Who am I kidding, my hair always looks good. Period.
- Gawd!! This is going to sound so stupid when I blog about it. People are going to throw crap at the screen.

So this is a late dinner, we decide to go to a place near my house. We decided that he's going to come to pick me up cause I really am in no mood to drive. So, he is outside my house on time, and I for once, am ready on time too. So when I go towards his car he's talking on the phone. At this time, I'm about to throw up. I'm real nervous. I'm more nervous than Elliot Spitzer in a one-on-one session with the pope. Anyways, we reach the place, and I say let's walk. So we walk a little and I'm still very queasy. He says he's hungry so we go in. I didn't wanna say anything in a crowded restaurant. I only use that to fire people, not come out to them. So, we order drinks and I'm thinking maybe a few screwdrivers will calm my nerves. Well, I'm half right. But I'm still so nervous that I even forget that we have not ordered the main course yet and ask for the cheque right after the drinks and the hors d'oeuvres. John reminds me that we have not had dinner yet. So I say something stupid which both of us pretend is funny and order the main course. Anyways, I don't have much of an appetite. However, John doesn't notice that. (Well, I am a good actor, thank you very much). So during dinner, the topic of marriage comes up. My inner voice tells me to tell him there and then but I just can't bring myself to tell him. I again say something stupid and both of us pretend that it is mysterious. So we planned to go for coffee after our meal, but he says that he's tired and wants to go home. Well I don't wanna consume anything at that point of time anyway, not even coffee (doing this under normal circumstances would be a cardinal sin in my book as we all know). So when he stops the car outside my house, I tell him.

Me: Dude, I got something to say man
John: Hurry up dude, I'm tired
Me: Well ... ... ... long pause ..... ahem ... longer pause ....
John: What's the matter dude .....
Me: Well, I'm .. errr.. umm .... not straight
John: Fuck off .... I'm in no mood for your stupid jokes ... leeme go home .....
Me: I'm serious, asshole
John: What do you mean?
Me: I don't like girls.
John: As in?
Me: As in I'm not attracted to them ......
John(in a state of shock, not tired anymore.....not even drunk): You don't like to sleep with girls ....
Me: Nope. Not a fan.
John: What do you mean .... Do you like to sleep with guys ?
Me: Well ..... errr... ahem ... I want to .....
John: So there is somebody who you like ....
Me: Nope....
John: There has to be somebody, are you telling me or not ....
Me: (Shrug, rolling eyes)
John: What's the person's name ........ ?
Me: There is (tell him about Ryan)
John: So you've done anything with this guy?
Me: Nope .... He's straight ... I haven't even told him ..... nor do I intend to
John: IF THIS IS ONE OF YOUR JOKES .......
Me: No this isn't
John: How long have you known?
Me: A long time ........
John: But your are straight ....
Me: No bro ... I ain't

YADA YADA YA...

John: Dude, I don't know what I am supposed to do as a best friend,I really don't know how to react, all I can say is that nothing changes between us
Me: Thanks, Man ... That's all I need to hear .....
Me: Sorry for springing this on you ... But I had to tell you .... You're like a brother to me ..... And I couldn't have gone forward without telling you ....
John: Yeah ... I understand ..... hmmmmm

Even though he is visibly under shock at this moment, he does manage to say the right things. I did expect him to come through for me. He doesn't understand it, but he is supportive. It's going to take him time to digest it. I'll let him take his time. However, I'm glad I told him. If I wouldn't have been able to tell him, then how could I tell the rest of the world. Though I'm not planning to tell anybody else yet. Well not until I get the gut feeling again.

He did say some disturbing stuff also (which I've yada yada'ed over) which I will ignore because I think it was the shock speaking.

He also asked me that guys can't have sex with each other. I told him there are ways. He was like ... how? I said it's better I don't tell you the details ... just be happy with the knowledge that there is a way.

So here it is, I told my best friend. It was different this time because while my Mom hadn't asked me many questions, John wanted to know if I was sure or not. He really did ask me a looooot of questions.

In the end, I know even if he doesn't agree with me, he does support me. And that's all I need, right?

The audacity of 'Ope ......

2008-04-17T06:57:00.000-07:00

"I'll feel proud of you if you complete that *** course you started to study for....."
"But that's not where my heart is .........."
"You should do it .......... I'll be proud"
"Sorry .... No Can do ....... "
"Well, I can hope, can't I?"
(In another room) "Meh ... "

When something like happens to one, one should feel bad. In fact one should feel horrible. But one doesn't. Maybe because one realizes that one is not here on this planet to live someone else's dream. Perhaps one realizes that they are here to live their own story, play out their own movie. One has decided to follow one's own bliss (whatever that means).

Or perhaps because one remembers the following story:

Mrs. Ginesberg, having arrived in heaven, addressed the recording angel bashfully. "Tell me," she said, "would it be possible to have an interview with someone in who is here in heaven?"
The recording angel said, "Certainly, assuming that the person is here in heaven."
"Oh, she is. I'm sure of that," said Mrs Ginsberg. "Actually, I want to see the virgin mary."
The recording angel cleared his throat. "Ah, yes. As it happens, she is in a different section, but if you insist I will forward the request. She is a gracious lady and may wish to visit the old neighborhood."
The request was duly forwarded, and the virgin was gracious indeed. It was not long at all before Mrs Ginsberg was favored with the virgin's presence. Mrs Ginsberg looked long at the radiant figure before her and finally said, "Please forgive my curiosity, but I always wanted to ask you. Tell me, how does it feel to have a son who is so wonderful that ever since his time hundreds of millions of people have worshiped him as God?"
The virgin replied, "Frankly, Mrs Ginsberg, we were hoping he would be a doctor."

(From The Book of Man by Osho)

** One is not affiliated to any religion or any religious group or organization.
** One is obviously not crazy ..... one is just a tiny bit retarded.