30 March 2006

Deltoids, Biceps and forceps.

My cover is pretty much shot. My dear, sweet, gentle, very pretty, extremely fit, very generous, very nice, tallish (but not taller than me), very musical ex-girlfriend found my blog. And i'm sure she's going to be a regular visitor now.

I've joined a gym, here near my new house. I've decided to start a new life. Its not going to have a lot of change from my old life, except now i'm going to go the gym regularly. I'm not a first time gymmer, by the way. I worked out a fair amout earlier, and was all bulky and hefty once. But i'm skinny now.

The gym i've joined is called, very imaginatively, ``Fitness Centre''. It cost 720 bucks a month. And i've paid another 500 bucks to get a ``coach''.

The coach is a man named ``Nepali Singh'', and looks very much like one of these men:

Yep, he walks around like that too, with his arms held away from his torso. I think all body-builders do that, because their wings (laterals, i think) get in the way.

The man's bicep is as big as my head (though I must confess my head is not very big). His waist is about a little bigger than mine, but his thigh is like my torso. Its like two of my torsos stuck to my waist.

Except when he introduced himself to me, he said, ``Hello, i'm Nepali Singh,'' in a voice that was quite, whats the word ... sqeaky. If i called his house, and he answered, I'd think it was Mrs. Nepali Singh, or Nepali Singh Junior (both of whom, i'm sure, are a lot bigger than me).

A lot of the body builders i've met have squeaky voices. Except Arnold, except I never met him. Here's what i think, I think if you work out too much, there's a high chance that your thigh muscles will become too big, and squish your testicles. And hence, the squeaky voice. (if you don't get the connection, er, umm, go to another blog)

Which is why, i'm never going to be like that. I could be like that if i wanted to. So what if Arnold started training when he was 3? Seriously, though, I figure that in 3 months, I'll be back to my original form. I just have to watch what i eat, not drink too much beer, and go to bed early. which is kind of pointless, if you think about it.

Of course, all of this working out and then working for money has gotten me really tired, so i think I'll go to bed soon.

In other news :

* I stole. From my boss. Twice. Once i opened his drawer and took a Twix. Once i asked for his pen in the morning meeting, and didn't return it. Some things ae so much better on the sly. Now i just hae to have a fling with a married woman.

* My dad has brought me a dozen of the most amazing mangoes from home. All you north-indian and south-indian types don't know the joy of an Alphonso Mango from Ratnagiri.

* My ex is a really nice chick, and she lends me money. And I was evil, and once sold her a DVD player that i got free. And she has amazing dress sense.

* oh and if you ever run the spell-check in blogger ... it doesn't recognise the word `blog'.

24 March 2006

My new haircut.

I've been hanging out with some gay guys this week. They were pretty cool, and I find i'm not as homo-phobic as i thought I was. What I do like about gay people is they wear their sexuality on their sleeves (at least the one's i know), and I think we would all be a lot better off (im talking about the straight people) if we all do that. And what i like about gay people is that they know real lesbian women. So cool.

I had a hair-cut. My theory is that men use hair-cuts to define their sexuality. Not the hair-cut, exactly, but where we cut our hair . Like me, and all my buddies from back home, all of us cut our hair in the same barber-shop. Its called cut-in-time, and they (now) charge 25 bucks for a job. At the end of it, they give you a nice, completely non-invasive, head-maalish. At one point, the store split into two, the other being `fine cut'. We chose our loyalties, dependingon whether we got along with the barbers or the owners.

On the other hand, all the `metro-sexual', and/or gay guys i know, all had expensive haircuts. Haircuts where the coiffeur gets you coffee, and doesn't cut, he `styles'. Where the man next to you gets a facial, and the woman next to you gets her eyebrows done. Sometimes even the man gets hs eyebrows done.

Its not about how much the job costs, its about the barbershop. Where I used to go, women are NOT allowed, unless they;ve brought their 3 year old kids, even though we're all completely clothed.

In my olde shop, I didn't have to tell the barber what to do. If i wanted something different, i'd just say, ``boss, thoda chota''.

Since I came to Delhi, i've had a problem with finding a decent barber. I knew that all my buddies would laugh if i told them i'd spent more than Rs. 25 on a hair cut, so i hunted, and found a guy that charged on Rs. 30. But the problem here is that a 30 buck hair cut in delhi means a small hole in the wall shop, where you dont know how old the blades are, and the barber chews (and spits) paan.

A year in delhi, and i've had just three haircute. The rest I had at home. The second time, i found this 30 buck guy... and I hated it. Other than smelling bad, the guy gave me the worst haircut i've EVER had. I don't obsess over my nothing-special hair, but this was the pits. I couldnt even comb it right.

So a few days ago, i decided I would spend some more money.

I did something i'd never done only once before. I went to a place where Men AND women can get a haircut. (I hope none of my buddies at home read this... oh wait they won't, they're not very good at reading)

As soon as i sat down, the barber ran his hands through my hair, and said , ``Too oily... should i shampoo?''. I'd been to tc last night, and hadnt bathed. And since i was already here, i said, ``ok". I hated it. He put me in a special chair, which i thought would make for good sex, if i had it at home. Except now my head was hanging into a basin, and the barber was shampooing it with shampoo i couldn;t recognise. I have NEVER had a man run his hands through my hair like that. If my hair was oily at Fine Cut, he'd just spray it with water, straighten it out, and chop-chop.

Then he sat me down, put cotton around my neck, a towel over my shoulders, and then tied an apron around me. Except my normal aprons were mono-chrome.. this one had a dragon on it. Really.

Then he put two clips in my hair. Clips? for a haircut. I felt... girly, almost. Then he gave me longest haircut I have ever had in my life. First he did one side, then the other, then took off one clip, cut, then the other cut, then levelled it out, cut. And all i wanted was a normal, short hair-cut.

Then he decided to massage my face. He spread some white moisturiser like cream thing on my face and spread it all over my face. WITH HIS HANDS. The he began to massage. I have never had a man touch my lips as much as he did. He decided to massage my nose also, and i couldn't breath for almost 45 seconds, twice. I couldn;t open my mouth, cos his hands were so near.

Then he wiped my face clean with a wet towel, and offered me tea or coffee, which i declined, cos i didn't know if it was to be paid for. So i'm cheap. Sue me.

But at the end of it, i think i'm satisfied with the hair cut. Looks just like Fine Cut, except at 6 times the cost.

Here's what i think. I think, that even though it may not be cool anymore, i'm being forced into metro-sexuality, against my will, all because i can't find the right barber. My next hair cut will be when i visit home.

20 March 2006

And now, the weekend is over / my tag

I worked on saturday. All the people i knew were out of town that night, or maybe they suddenly stopped liking me since last week, but i didnt go anywhere.

Sunday night, me, my punjabi roomie, and another guy sat down in my living and knocked back a whole load beer. It takes a fair amount of beer to get someone high, so i figure we all must have had a fair amount. My roomie went to bed. The other guy and I, for some reason, watched women's weightlifting at the commonwealth.

Lessons learnt :
* not all weight-lifting chicks are uncute.
* cute weightlifting women are rare, and never win.
* I have to HAVE TO start working out again.
yes thats all the lessons we learnt. But letching at weightlifters is not very educative.
My friend, by the way, has been going out with this girl for 5 years, something that i have not ever come close to doing.


I'd promised to come up with a tag thingy.
So here it is.
Rules (because life is about rules)
1. If you're a girl, you have to be just wearing your underwear when doing this tag. Even if you're in office. Don't worry, its a short tag.
2. If you're a boy, you have slap your belly 5 times and say, ``Ho diddly diddly'. If you have six pack abs, so do I.
3. When you're done, you have to make yourself a promise to plant a tree, not use too much plastic, and ride a bicycle to work when you can. Come on, if we don't the earth is going to kill itself.
4. Not mandatory, like the first 3, but if you answer this tag, drop me a line at fourwheelhigh.blogspot.com, or fasterjamesfaster@yahoo.com
5. Tag 6 people ( you know, that whole six degrees of seperation thingy?)

____ The 4wd tag :____

1) What kind of car/ bike person are you? This includes bicycles.
2) You opinion : Why are all men turned on by women that dig other women, when the man in question is not even in the picture?
3) You've been in a relationship for 2 years, and you realise you're not in love. What do you do? Be honest, or find some way to pin the blame on your soon to be ex.
4) Which is your favourite pair of shoes. Why?
5) What is the best way to bring up a conversation with your significant other about a threesome?
6) Did you ever run away from home?
8) Is it true that rum doesn't leave hangovers?


there. That is my tag. And my people are :
Ekta (cos she tagged me first), Bloggerhead (which is a cool name, like the shark, except with blogger instead of hammer), Shivangi (even though i'm a wee wee bit afraid of her), Jupes (or Aureliana Cortez, which is her hot latino name), Gautami Tripathi (i dont know her, really, but i think she needs to lighten up:} ) and Mahi (cos she's funny)

16 March 2006

the weekend approaches.

And as it so happens, i now have a japanese name.

Your Japanese Name Is...
Shigekazu Matsumoto


In case I meet a hot brazilian chick in a little skirt and pouty lips, I also have a hot brazilian name.

Your Sexy Brazilian Name is:
Antônio Cabral


Hai, matsumoto sensei

14 March 2006

tagged. Like a non-flu-chicken.

So i've seen some people complain about being tagged. I'm not. I like it... and that its a first... so i'm happy. Thank you Ekta.

ok the rules :
1. The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different points of their perfect lover.
2. You have to mention the sex of the target.
3. Tag 8 victims to join this game and leave a comment on their comments saying they've been tagged.
4. If tagged the 2nd time, there's no need to post again.

Here goes.
Sex : er, female, as though anyone had any doubts about that. Better if its two females :)

point 1) She can't be physically unfit. She doesn't have to be, like the fittest ever, cos i'm not, but she cant be totally unfit. Tall is good... most of my exs have been tall, if not taller than me. So, i'm shallow. sue me.

point 2) Slightly slutty is good. just the right amount, you know.

point 3) She HAS to wear nice underwear. No granny chuddys. And Clean! Red is good. I mean, if i can wear nice underwear, why cant she?

point 4) Experimentation baby. Penicillin wasn't discovered by boring, old, staid jesuits.

point 5) She should NOT fall in love with me. Ok, she can, but she should NOT be suicidal. There is nothing harder than dealing with an ex threatening to kill herself.

point 6) She gets extra points if she can ride a motorcycle. Superpoints if she can ride a bullet.

point 7) If she has a boyfriend, extra points again. Married... man, i know we don't admit it often enough ladies, but being with a married woman (that is of course, not married to us) is every mans fantasy. Right up there with princess leia.

point 8) ok, i think this is my only sappy point. She has to be a good *hugger*. Cos i'm not, you know. I dont hug often enough. I dont like hugging most men, unless they're my really good friends, and i dont randomly hug women either. So there.


I know i have to tag 8 people, thats a rule, i know, but I wont right now. Instead, i'll think up my own tag, and pass that on instead.

tres bien

10 March 2006

I'm back again.

Like Rocky. You know, all the parts. Oh and by the way, there's a movie called `aryan' out soon. From what i see, it looks like all the rockys rolled into one. From the trailer, its got the running on cold streets (rocky 2 or 3?) Pushups (all of them) and the clincher, its got the exact same scene as in rocky 5, you know, when he lets the big mean guy smack him upside the head once, and then hits him when he tries it again?

Anyway, this post is short. I'm typing in a cybercafe with a keyboard that has only hindi characters. Good thing i've been typing since i was 5.

some quick takes :
* today's saturday. Don't have a plan yet, so if anyone (ladeez wonly, pliss) wants to hang out, post here, or email me at fasterajamesfaster@yahoo.com, before 6pm today ,leave your number.
* heh heh ok i know that sounded desperate :) But what the hell.
* Up until yesterday, i had never sat down and had a drink with my mom. She had a pina colada, and when my drink came, i wishd i'd chosen something other than a raging bull, which is just tequila and kahlua.
*I met one of the hottest women i've ever met. But her name's `Sandhu', and she's training to be a helicopter pilot, and when i said hi, she said, ``hello sir.'' ``So, do you like it here?'' ``Sir yes sir.''
* the net is still a little distance away from getting itself a portal inside my house. in a week or so, i should be posting merrily.