You’ve come a long way, baby!

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!

This post has died and gone to Costa Rica

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

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

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?

I promise that this post will eventually end

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

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

- 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