Never Going To Leave You

I really can’t quit you, personal blogging. I get to do my most favourite activity: talk about myself at length without being interrupted by someone else. Shut up and publish all my terrible posts, blogger dot com.

I remember when I started blogging in December 2007. I was such a different person at that time. For one, I was only ugly fat and not morbidly obese like the present. Second, I wrote things here I couldn’t even admit to myself (eg: I liked British sitcoms! BUT BUT THEY WERE RACIST TO US TILL 1947?).

And of course, there was the community. I “met” a lot of people through the blog. Some, I’m still in touch with. Some I’m friends with. Some got freaked out by something I said and vice-versa. Some are lost in the past. Some have disappeared into the abyss of the internet. Some are getting married to their version of the anti-christ. It’s all good.

I hate to use these words because, REALLY?, but blogging also helped me to find a little bit of who I am. Turns out I wasn’t the broken shell of a human being being who was dead inside and wasn’t able to feel any emotion whatsoever. In reality, I was a broken shell of a human being who was dead inside and wasn’t able to feel any emotion whatsoever who also likes to write sentences who only he finds amusing! WHO’DA THUNK IT?

Nowadays, even though I do most of my blogging in my diary - because even I’m not that narcissistic to put so many banal things on the internet - it always feels good to come back here.

* * *

I can’t believe I actually wrote the words I’m not afraid to be real in the last post. Ugh. Who am I? A contestant on MTV Road Rules? Such a fucking drama queen! What’s next? Shouting I’m not here to make friends! to random people on the street? (To be fair, I did say that once to a dick co-trainee during the second week of my first job so that wouldn’t be such a stretch. Can’t believe I was in denial about being gay at that time. I mean, HELLOOO!).

* * *

Also, writing more blogposts in one week than I have written in three years? If it was still 2012 I would have made an ‘ARMAGEDDON MUST BE NIGH’ joke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shouldn't that count for something?

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

This post has absolutely nothing on it's mind

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

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?

All that hard work down the drain

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?

Does everything have to have a point?

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.

Bringing you news which no one else does

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.

This post is anything but normal

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

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.

My own private Idaho

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

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.

Finally, the whippersnapper offers his wisdom to the world

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"

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.

Open Letters: Rated "O" for offensive

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?

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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.

The Rated R Rant

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?

The Happening . . .

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.

Yes, it's true . . . .

A year ago:

It was as if the the darkness of the evening was a metaphor for the darkness about to engulf his life. One of life's lemons had been squirted in his eyes again. He had lost someone who was very close to him. Someone who was with him through thick and thin, someone who was there to share his happiness and unburden his sadness. He had lost a friend. A friend who had always been there. A friend who had always given. A friend who had expected nothing in return. A friend who never said anything, but through his silence always made him feel special. His friend was gone, leaving him alone in this world. Leaving him with no one to share the silent moments. Leaving him with just memories. Memories of those sunny days, of those cold winter mornings. If he had known he would never see his friend again, he would have said one final goodbye. He at least owed his friend that much.

He had tears in his eyes, as he drove back home. When he entered his house, he knocked on his door. His Mother opened the door and saw the state her son was in. She rarely saw her son with such an aura of sadness. "What Happened?", she asked him. He was barely able to reply. He rushed to his room and lay down on the bed. She grew more worried. She asked him again. "I...I've lost a friend .....a friend today .." he could barely speak over the tears. "WHO?" she asked, with worrying concern. "The...The........ The coffee shop near our house has just closed". His mother was shocked. Though her expression said that her son is a moron, in her heart she felt his pain. His loss.


Fast Forward to Today:

He had heard this before. It never turned out to be true. Maybe this was a rumor too. Could it be true? He made his way their patiently. Once he reached there, he scanned around. He couldn't beleive his eyes. The rumors were true. Yes, there is a God. And he listens. Finally the wait was over. Now he wouldn't need to drive the extra 0.5 kms. His friend was back. In a new avatar. The coffee shop had become bigger and better. And it welcomed him with open arms. He was home again. The oh-to-familiar aroma, the comfortable seating. The free-copy-useless-tabloid on the table. He was so happy, he could cry.

*******

An interview call:

HR Dude: Since we have ironed out the details of the salary, and you don't have any questions, I'll mail the contract over to you.

Candidate: ..Er...Ahem.... I have something I forgot to ask ......

HR Dude: Yeah .. Sure .. Go ahead ....

Candidate: It may seem stupid, but it's important to me .....

HR Dude: ..Yeah.....Please go ahead ......

Candidate: Does your company have an espresso bar in it's premises?

HR Dude: WHAT????

Candidate: Do you have a coffee shop in our office campus?

HR Dude: .(in a is-this-guy-for-real-voice).......We have a ...... (famous bakery)...

Candidate: That's not an espresso bar ...... Do you have a dedicated espresso bar or not?

HR Dude: ...We don't have an exclusive espresso bar ....but our cafeteria does have vending machines .......

Candidate: (irritated and pissed of to the core) So your Fortune 500 company does not have an espresso bar or a sub standard coffee shop in or near it's premises...or in a 2 km radius?

HR Dude: .... No ....

----Click-----

HR Dude: Halo....Hello.....Yellowwww ... (gives up)