Four Wheel Drive - Babewatch III

Taking breaks.

2009-07-03T10:02:00.001-07:00

When i'm traveling, I like going to unexplored, difficult places. I'm not interested in going to tourist spots like Khajuraho or hampi. I want to go where I don't know anybody, and everyone is strange to me. I want to go to difficult places and learn about people.

But, I also want to go where my friends are, where I can meet people like me. One of the places I did that is Hyderabad.

So my traveling seems to have worked itself into this rythm. I first go to a place where I can learn, research and challenge myself. Then, I go to a place where I can kick back, enjoy and have be with friends.

I lived and worked there for a year, and it was easily the best time I had. I had a bunch of friends from all over the world, working all kinds of jobs. I knew that every time I went out with them, I was guaranteed to have a good time. I never remember not having fun. I also remember good conversation, and my friends were there for me when I needed them.

Which is why I spent two weeks in hyderabad.

Unfortunately, whenever you go back to a p lace, you find that things have changed. Nothing remains the same, of course, but you exect it to be the same at least. The group I know doesn't hang out at B'n'C anymore. It goes to Firefly and some fancy nightclub in a fancy hotel (the names of both i've forgotten). I realise I don't like clubs so much. THey're too big, and filled with people trying to be nice-looking and the atmosphere's negative and the drinks are too expensive.

What I did enjoy was BNO, or Boy's Night Out. This is just a collection of dudes getting together on someone terrace and drinking. Then we proceed to make fun of each other deep into the night (usually Chocolate ... yep, that's his name) Its fun, and without pressure, and I liked the guys a lot.

Heres what was interesting in hyderabad, I had a date. With a very pretty girl i've known for a while. The last time I met her was at a party, and I made a complete fool of myself. We had coffee, and chatted. I don't think I felt 'the zing', but it was fun. It's been a while since I dated, and that was a good way for me to move on. We do keep in touch, but very very little. Although I did promise to send her a letter, the paper kind.

So yea, when I'm traveling, i like taking breaks. Thats why i took the weekend in calcutta, and thats why I'll go home for a few weeks. Also, i need to earn some money.

pointlessness

2009-01-27T03:43:00.000-08:00

the time has come

for me to ride

a quarter past five

with fries on the side

The time has come

to make a stand

the cere-bellum

why, that's my land

The time has come

and has the enemy

is easy to find

no, its not she

he's inside me

(aka, on an impulse I bought a dress for the girl [not just any dress, but one she'd told me she really really liked, but didn't get cos she was on a saving money trip, and then i found out with some detective work what the dress was] and spent like 3 grand on it [a lot when you have no money] and now i'm feeling like maybe i shouldn't have, not because i dont really like her, no, i really do, but i get the feeling she'll never like me as much, even tho she says she does.)(bugger it, thank god i'm not into attachments and allathat jazz)

Mojo risin'

2009-01-03T06:59:00.000-08:00

So, New Year's Eve was crap,

but I think I have my mojo back.

Where had my mojo gone, you ask? Well, see, the one thing that can ruin mojo to hell is love. It happened to me, I tell you. It's not all it's cracked up to be, this love thing. I mean, its not bad, It can actually be very good. And if it doesn't last, at least it gives you a glimse of what could be, you know. Love's great, like that. It takes you places you've never been. But it makes you lose your mojo.

It starts simple. You meet a girl (or boy, if you're into that). You hang out. You fall in love. Maybe you kiss. Sometimes it's the other way round. You hang out. You kiss, and ideally have sweaty sex. Then you fall in love. Thats simple. Around here, you still have your mojo. In fact it's risen. Because you don't give a hoot about other girls, they like you more. So, all of a sudden, a lot of very pretty girls are interested in talking to you, because you don't care. But you take it too far, you too much in love to care about them, because you're in love with the girl you love. Eventually, the attention you got on account of not giving the women attention starts to wane. You don't care, you've got love.

Then one day, the girl you love gets married and says, "I'll see you next year, babe."

And then for a while, you're like wondering about life and love and you think you should write a book about it. You don't of course, cos you can't get past page 1. But you do eventually meet another girl. And now you want to be in love so much, nothing else matters, not even that she doesn't really love you back.

So it goes on for a while, and then, one day, you realise that she doesn't love you back, so you break it off. (ok ok, she realises, and she breaks it off). And then you think , "what the fuck?" becuse you've never really been broken up with before. For a while, you feel bad for the girls you broke up with for no reason, and then you think if hadn't yu may have been married to one of them now, and you think, "thank god i did."

Anyway, then, you get to this phase when you really want sex, love be damned. So everytime you meet a woman, all you're thinking about is how to get her back to your house and take her clothes off. Of course, women can sense that sort of shit and because they're so predictable, they don't want you because you want them.

So you don't get any. You killed your own mojo. Heck, Love did.

So I was pleasantly surprised when I found my Mojo had returned. First on new years day, I had nothing to do, and wanted to get away from Pune, because I didn't want to be around girl-who-doesn't-really-love-me (look above). So i went to this 'farm house' party outside town. First, there was no farm, it was a big, manicured lawn, and I hate those. The girl who invited me was not my type at all (ok, she would have been if she were skinnier) but she was all, holding my hand and everything. If i wanted to, I could have made a move. But you know how I am, I can't kiss a girl untill i'm really attracted to her. And the other girls at the party... well... there weren't too many, and none of them were, er, my type. So i wished them all "happy new year (hug hug hug)" and left.

Then, another girl, also not my type, invited me to another party in Pune, so I went there. It was fun. There were some pretty people. One very pretty lass with her husband, unfortunately, both tripping on something. I had a few drinks, but fortunately, not enough to go thru with what the not-my-type-girl would propose soon.

I swear this is true. I walked out of the loo (i used it soon after a bunch of dudes finished snorting their lines of coke... idiots... paying for terrorists' educations), and she was waiting outside. And she says, "I have to ask you something." So i say, "What?" So she says, "this" and leans in to kiss me.

Now, this girl, i) is not my type ii) is bigger than me and iii) is certainly stronger than me. So I was scared. But i was brave enough to say, "no no no". "Come on, its just a kiss," she said. "No," I said, "its never just a kiss."

And its true. It never is. Kissing takes a lot. Its got to come from within. Or else its not... real, you know. Its no good. I admit, i was a little, er, excited, but only because of the attention. So she says, "its just a kiss," again. I told he I couldn't do it, because my heart was still elsewhere. (how would it have sounded if I said, "you're not my type, dude") It was partly true, because my heart was (is?) partly elsewhere (see girl-who-doesn't-really-love-me) above.

So, I didn't kiss her, and left. Yea I know, its very womanly to leave when someone tries to kiss you.

Anyway, regardless of them being non-cute, it counted for something that they were into me. It's always a big ego boost.

So the next day, Im faffing around on facebook, and this cute girl, who I met in hyderabad, but who moved to pune recently, pings me. She has a boyfriend and all, but she's still chat-flirting, and we exchange numbers and all. I did not expect to hear from her at all. But I did.

Then, a little later, this other girl. Also very very cute. I met her at a party in hyderabad, and flirted with her there, and texted her a few days later, but she never answered. So i sorta gave up, thinking I have no Mojo. She pings me, and says, "hey, oddly, I only saw your message now, there's something wrong with me phone."

Ha ha, you expect me to believe that? That you saw my message 2 weeks to late. The truth is, you just suddenly felt my mojo.

Then, on an impulse, I texted this other girl. I'd been trying to get her to go out with me, but she just wouldn't. So i was a little bummed about that, thinking I have no mojo. So i texted her saying, "Coffee later today?" and she answers (dig this) saying, "Hey, sorry, I'm getting married in Feb and engaged tomorrow, so 2nite may be hard." Ha ha. I'm happy. It wasn't me.

So yea, I got my mojo back, ladies. NOw i'm dying to head to a city where they actually have pretty women, and see if it's really back. I'll post.

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

ps. what do people do with so much money? I mean, wasn't the first 1000 crores enough, Mr. Raju? BUt yea, at least you had the guts to let the buck stop somewhere, and write that letter instead of taking a flight to the Cayman Islands.

Love, actually.

2008-12-31T02:45:00.000-08:00

You know that moment. When you look at her, suddenly, out of the blue. It could be any other look, but it isn't. Suddenly your eyes are filled with beauty. She looks like the most beautiful thing you've laid eyes on ... that's the moment you realise you love her. It happened to me today. There I was... just standing... and I turned around, and she was there. She was so beautiful.

I knew, at that moment, that I love her.

I love her for all she is and all she isn't. She isn't perfect, but I loved her. She looked like the image of beauty... I almost felt like she glowed a little... like the star from Gaiman's 'Stardust'.

Was it too late, I wondered. Here I was, thinking of going our seperate ways... and this is the time that bastard cupid decides to strike. At least I know i love her. Tis better to have loved and lost...

If I have to sell her, I'll miss her a lot, that's for sure.

Her hood... just looked so perfect today. The slight bump on the hood, made to accomodate the bigger engine... the high clearence... the eagle painted on her bonnet. Even the slightly worn out tires ... the dent on the side (ah i remember that drunken evening... we've spent lots of beautiful times together, you and I). I love it all... i love all 1.3 litres of her.

Lovers

2008-12-26T23:19:00.000-08:00

There are different kinds of lovers. It's a little chocolate, there are also different kinds of chocolate. Incidentally, my father, who brings home a lot of chocolate, brought home 3 big bars of dark chocolate with fig. You might not believe this, but it was brilliant. The chocolate was dark and soft and gooey, with a mushy, dark pink fig paste. I loved it. When it got over, I turned to real figs, which I've never really enjoyed before, and I loved them too.

Chocolate does that to you. As does love.

But my sister, you see, hated it. "Ugh, who eats fig chocolate." So did my sort-of-girlfriend. "I hate figs. I hate the little seeds, and I hate mushy-ness. Don't give me any," she said.

Different people like different chocolate, and different people love differently. Different people have different understandings of love, that much is true.

Thats the problem, see. The problem isn't that people can't find a way to define or describe Love. Its just that they can't find a way to agree on the definition of love.

Here, according to my very limited experience with love, that bitch, are the different kinds of lovers.

1) The romantic lovers. Many, at some point in our romantic lives, have been this kind of lover. I don't think I ever have, actually. As a young man (yea, I used to be one), I remember friends looking at a girl from far and saying, "I love her man... I really do." This love has nothing to do with real, deep emotion. Its just, you know, Romantic. The kind you see in Hindi movies. Many of my friends never even worked up the courage to talk to these girls. I clearly remember one saying, "I'm going to marry her, I dont know how, but I am." It didn't matter that he never had a chance in hell.

Or like my friend Nina, who was in college with me. One days she came to me and said, "This boy came and gave me a note, but its french, and I don't know french, what does it say? It said, "Je t'aime beaucoup." I had to laugh at the guy. Not only was she way out of his league (yes, the fact that he wore only tee-shirts with a Sports Authority of India Logo on then{he said his father was an official there} may have had something to do with it), but they had also never spoken! Ah, the romantics. Yea, they never went anywhere. But i've heard stories did go somewhere you know. This girl, Mansi, was in my college, much older than me of course, and there was supposedly this boy who was totally in love with her. He only managed to say it to her, I hear, years later, and they eventually got married. She's on tv now, Mansi Scott.

2) The reason-to-love lovers. "I love you because you're so zen," she said to me. Easily the nicest, most perfect girl I ever dated, I have no idea why I kept breaking up with her. It may be because I'm not essentially a reason-to-love lover, but that's besides the point. She wanted to love me more, so she brought home a dvd of a korean movie (about a girl who loses her virginity to an arrow) and some chinese movie called "Raise the red lantern". I only watched the second one because I thought it would have some kung fu in it. It didn't.

I, on the other hand, didn't love her because I thought she wasn't bright enough. Its besides the point that I was proved wrong the moment she got accepted into Columbia's journalism program.

The thing is : we needed reasons to love each other. We needed to say, "I like you because..." I guess its a good way to love, if you're thinking of a long term relationship. Its good to know why you like someone, so you can keep reminding yourself about it. But then again, you know if you have a reason to love somebody, then someday, when you change, that reason may cease to exist.

3) The spiritual lovers. There was this girl once. I don't know where I fell in love with her, but I realised it on a deserted beach, in the middle of the night, when she said, "Let me show you how to really hug somebody." You know, words are always a barrier to emotion. There are never enough words for feelings. The english language is the worst. There's just one word for love. You kn ow that story about the inuits having some 30 odd words for snow. Well, Indian languages have many more words for love than English. There's a word for every different love that goes with every different relationship. But there still isn't enough to describe it all. That is why I can't describe what I felt with her, but we were bonded on a different level. The kind that you can never explain, you know, where souls meet and all bull.

It doesn;t matter now, of course, cos two weeks after that day on the beach, she went and got married.

I think i'm essentially a spiritual lover, though, who will love without knowing why. Who want's to be understood without ever saying anything, who can never lie to his lover, because words don't count for much. Thats my problem, see, that kind of love, I don't know if it comes by very often.

4) The reverse-love lover. "I don't want a soul-mate. I want someone who loves me inconveniently." This is the perfect way to define the girl i'm tangled up with right now. See, this person makes their decisions for love based on how much the other person loves them. They're the complete opposite of the Romantic Lover. More than wanting to love, they want to be loved. They want people so say odd things like, "I love you more than life itself," "I cry myself to sleep thinking about you," and "I can't live without you."

Ideally, Romantic Lover should meet Reverse-Love Lover, and it should work well. Until of course, More-Romantic Lover shows up and Reverse-love Lover feels more loved.

So i've left all the minor lovers out of this list. You know, like, says-i-love-you-during-sex-only lover, liar lover, arranged marriage lover... that kind. Those don't matter.

And oh, happy new year to you, whatever kind of lover you are. May you find true love this year.

-4

She moves in mysterious ways (It's alright!)

2008-04-29T09:33:00.000-07:00

"I don't trust you,'' I said, teasingly.
"I don't trust myself,'' she said, also teasingly.
"Well, don't worry, I'm not going to kiss you tonight,'' I said, reassuringly.
"What? Bull shit. Do you expect me to believe that if I leaned in now, you wouldn't kiss me?" she said, challengingly.
"Yes,'' I said, confidently.
And so, she leaned in. I could see her face in the neon light that shone in from her window, and the soft whirr of the air-conditioner broke the silence of her small room.
Did i want to kiss her? Yes. Because she was tall, pretty, had a very hot body, was actually intelligent, and I had just had over four hours of great conversation with her, over cheap drinks at Janata Bar, and then a chain of cigarettes on the steps outside her house.
Did I kiss her? I won't say. Not because I don't kiss and tell, but because i don't not-kiss and tell.
So, what, then, was the problem? The problem was, that she had a boyfriend. Has a boyfriend. And he is actually a very nice boy. Decent, soft spoken, hard working, acts in plays, catholic even.
So why, then, was she sitting on her bed, which was really just a single mattress, with a boy who had broken the heart of one of her closest friends, less than two months ago? Obviously, because I'm the bad boy that her boyfriend isn't. Ok, ok, let me say it. I'm not a bad boy. I'm actually fairly good. But bad boy to her.

"You're such a player,'' she said. "Don't you just love that?" i said.

So. Since this post is tagged 'Lessons for Dudes', what's the lesson for you dudes here. The lesson, my friends, is this. Women, even devoted ones, will, if presented with the right opportunity, cheat on their boyfriends. Its true. I actually believe that its easier to seduce (i hate that word, but i don't have a better one) a girl with a boyfriend, or one who is soon to be wed, than a single girl. And this i speak from experience, plenty of mine own and those of plenty of my good friends'. Who are soon to be wed are very easy. Maybe they just want to get it done one last time? My experience with married women is extremely limited, so i won't comment.

Take a look at this. Its a piece by The Sun, brilliantly called `affairer sex'. Granted, it is the sun. But even so. Billy Crystal agrees. But this? I don't actually ever read it, but The Independent does sound like it has a lot more credibility. Do a little Blackle (that's an eco friendly google) search. You'll find that, indeed, more women are cheaters than men.

Before i get to why women cheat more, let me get to why men cheat less. Firstly, most men do have commitment phobia. Women love commitment. The only thing the love more than commitment is a is a man who doesn't. Men are naturally wired to be opportunistic. But for a man to commit to a woman, means that he's put some thought into it, and decided that he wants to be with this woman. He is with her because he wants to. (now I'm not talk about horny 15 year old boys that will go steady with a girl because its cool, I'm talking about horny 26 year old that will go steady with a girl cos its cool.) So for him to cheat, it means that he has to, in his head, overthrow all that he has thought and considered, and contradict his own emotion and hard work. Or, it could just be that he's extremely drunk and/or, she's incredibly hot. Unlikely, because women don't really love men who are incredibly drunk, unless they are too/

Second, i don't think men get enough opportunity as women. I do believe that the majority of women are naturally more attractive than men, especially since we start approaching thirty. Of course, some women do get fat (and I'm not apologising for using that word, use the bloody gym), but that doesn't matter, because there will always be a man to hit on a woman. All women, fat or not, get hit on. The same does not apply to men.

Now women, as I have always believed, are attracted to two kinds of men. One is the nice, sweet, gentle provider. The good looker, the stage-actor, the investment banker, the computer engineer. Which is who they marry and go to picnics with and cook with their moms and have kids with and go to the theater with. Then, they're attracted to the assholes. Which, is me, sometimes. The assholes don't even have to look extremely good or have great jobs or anything. Which, is also me, sometimes. We just have to talk smart.

So, as I was saying, they will marry the good boy, but want to fuck the bad boys. Its true. I'm telling you.

So, why wouldn't I kiss her? Because that is all they will ever want to do with the bad boys. Unless they're single. Well, then too, if they're smart, they'll get tired of the bad boy. If they're not, why the fuck would you want to be with them? They will never want to love you. They will never want to tell you about why they don't get along with their parents, and they won't care when you cry. You think you're using them, but no, really, they're using you.

And that sucks. So no more non-single women for me.

Lessons For [chick] Human Beings.

2008-04-22T22:43:00.000-07:00

So, this post is part of my series of lessons for human beings. This one is for the Women. So there isnt much of a post here, there's just a lesson. But believe me, its true.

So here's the lesson.

-- If a guy says to you, 'I'm not the committment type', what he really means is, `I'm not the committment type with you. '--

The truth is, when a guy really likes you, for more than your ass, he will be the committment type. That is the simple truth. End of the lesson.

This comes from a hardcore committment-phobe, so you better believe it. Also, as an aside, for some stupid reason, the moment a guy says to a girl, ``i'm not the committment type'', she loves him.
-4

How to snag literary type chicks.

2008-04-17T04:10:00.000-07:00

Today I will tell you, the young man, how to snag chicks that read, and especially chicks that read poetry. And the beauty of it is, you won't actually have to read much poetry to do it.

First of all, you must remember that chicks that read are many. But they all pretty much read the same stuff. Those that've studied literature in college all read Shakespeare and whatever else is in the syllabus. Many of them actually didn't even understand it (but, still, its good for you to memorise these lines " When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
When the hurlyburly's done, When the battle's lost and won." Spout these words randomly, but strategically. Eg. Lit Chick : Ok, its time for me to go, i'm supposed to meet my boyfriend, and you don't seem that bright. WannabePlayer : When shall we three...... hurlyburly's.... lost and won" LitChick : Wow. I didn't know you read Shakespeare. WannabePlayer : I don't. I wrote that. LitChick. Hee hee... ok i'll wait a little longer, you're funny, and cute. (See what happened here, you led her to believe that you read and are intelligent, and yet, when she brought up the bard [Shakespeare, you dolt] you cleverly brought the conversation back to you, so you'll can talk about you, and so you don't have to actually discuss the dead dude [Shakespeare, you dolt]. Now, get her to talk about sex.

Ok, now back to the main bit, which is, how to snag literary type chicks, without actually being smart. I'm gonna teach you how to kill lit chicks till they're naked (not kill them dead, kill them horny, you dolt). Ok, here's the big secret. Just remember this one one name, but remember it well. E. E. Cummings.

What's that you say? Who is this Cummings dude? Ok, so cummings is a poet who was born to help us score with lit chicks.

So, first, google the dude, and read up about him, and you will get your first conversation starter bits. His name. This bit works better if you'll are conversing on email or gchat.

For instance
LitChick : So, do you like the romantics, or the Naturalists? (There's nothing actually called the Naturalists, except the nude white men in goa, but I'm not the poetry type either, so i don't really know much about poetry, so just assume that she throws a poetic period at you that you know nothing about)
You: Well, i don't think poetry, well, really, all art, can be boxed into little periods... i mean... time isn't linear.
LitChick : (slightly confused, cos she's actually a bit of a poseur too) What're you talking about?
You : Well, if you must know, i do appreciate E. E. Cummings.
LitChick: Don't you mean e. e. cummings?
You: Well, you can say it as you like... you know he didn't really stress on the capitalisation of his name... and he meant is as a mark of humility, really, not as the preferred orthography for others to use ... (she probably won't have read up about cummings on wikipedia, so she won't know that you're paraphrasing)
LitChick: well, what do you like about him?
You: I'd like to say that i like his versatility, and how he really says things in a way that makes me think, ``that's exactly what i was thinking'', but the truth is, because the guy's really a horny bugger ha ha.
LitChick : (ideally seeing the humour) ha ha so typical. You like a poet because he's `horny'.
--See what you've done here, boy? Not only have you showed her you're smart, and that you read, and introduced a bit of humour, but you're also slowly steering to topic around to sex, so you increase your chances of eventually doing this woman.
You : Well, typical, yes, but of what?
LitChick: Of the average, testosterone fuelled yada yada...
You : (cutting in) may i feel
LitChick: huh?
You: said he... ill squeal said she ...just once said he... its fun... said she.
LitChick: So thats why you like cummings...
You : ha ha... well... look i have to go soon, but i just want to say, that cummings really had such variety. I mean, he wrote about sex, yes, but also about love. And he wrote beautifully... very intense. Even if you ignore the punctuation, and the structures he builds with his words... very beautiful...

--remember to use these words : Beautiful and intense. Chicks dig these words.
Here, the chick will agree with you. Trust me, she will. and you continue.

You: Well, i can't stay much longer... my buddy's waiting for me... but we should continue this ...
LitChick: yea yea... I should go talk to my friends... my boyfriends not here today.
You: Well, we'll continue this later... life's not a paragraph, you know.
---Remember this life's not a paragraph dialogue, ok? its important

Remember, you're not actually going to go away. You're just saying you're going away. And now you're going to steer the conversation around to sex. Try not to do it with poetry, though. eg, you can say, ``Boyfriend? I thought you were lesbian?''. If you must use poetry, you can continue the life's not a paragraph bit with : and death i think is no parentheses... and neither are threesomes. (ok, dont fuckin ask me what parentheses are, cos i don;t know, and the threesomes bit isnt actually in the poem.)

If you can get thru this bit ok, then this chick is yours. Just remember never to talk more poetry with her. Like, you can say, ``Words, really, only limit expression. There are only so many words, and so many more feelings. Not my opinion... Parmahansa Yogananda's.'' Or say, ``Look, i dont really feel like talking now... lets just enjoy the silence for once.'' Or even, ``I'm really more the prose type...its always easier to carry prose when you're on motorcycle trips''

So, thats how to handle Lit Chicks. Just remember, they're not really that bright either, and want to get laid as much as you. And because they're lit chicks, will probably be more likely to be open to a threesome with another chick, and probably have lesbian lovers. Definately do if they're from LSR.

Thats it for me today. But just for your own happiness, check out this poem by cummings.

-----

it is at moments after i have dreamed

it is at moments after i have dreamed
of the rare entertainment of your eyes,
when (being fool to fancy) i have deemed
with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;
at moments when the glassy darkness holds
the genuine apparition of your smile
(it was through tears always)and silence moulds
such strangeness as was mine a little while;
moments when my once more illustrious arms
are filled with fascination, when my breast
wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:
one pierced moment whiter than the rest
-turning from the tremendous lie of sleep
i watch the roses of the day grow deep.

---

And also, any man who writes this, below, has to be a stud, and we all can learn a lot from him

---

the boys i mean are not refined

the boys i mean are not refined
they go with girls who buck and bite
they do not give a fuck for luck
they hump them thirteen times a night

one hangs a hat upon her tit
one carves a cross on her behind
they do not give a shit for wit
the boys i mean are not refined

they come with girls who bite and buck
who cannot read and cannot write
who laugh like they would fall apart
and masturbate with dynamite

the boys i mean are not refined
they cannot chat of that and this
they do not give a fart for art
they kill like you would take a piss

they speak whatever's on their mind
they do whatever's in their pants
the boys i mean are not refined
they shake the mountains when they dance

Milk boy! Save us, Milk boy!

2008-04-16T20:35:00.000-07:00

Please allow me to introduce myself
Im a man of wealth and tasteIve been around for a long, long year
Stole many a mans soul and faith
And I was round when jesus christ
Had his moment of doubt and pain
Made damn sure that pilate
Washed his hands and sealed his fate

See, now the thing about me is, that I have fairly decent Game. I don't pick up women in bars (this is India, i know very few people who do, cos women can be really prissy here), but I do have conversations with them, and i do flirt with some fairly succesfully. I can't charm the pants of any women you point out at me, but i do know if i get into a conversation with a woman, i have at least a 70% chance of scoring. Its another matter that i'm very picky, and really dont want to score unless they're very pretty or very intelligent.

Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name
But whats puzzling you
Is the nature of my game

The unfortunate problem, i think, with all men, regardless of the quantum of Game we may or may not have, is this : when we meet a woman we really really really like, we lose all game, and become charmless, tactless fool with the Game of a 14 year old hedgehog. (for those of you'll who are wondering what i mean by Game, if you don't know, erm, what can i say? Read a nice book by a dude called neil something or the other).

I stuck around St. Petersberg
When I saw it was a time for a change
Killed the Czar and his ministers
Anastasia screamed in vain

So, when you deal with a lady. Or a girl. Or a woman. Or a child, i am told. The rules to be successful are always the same. Their application may be varied a little, but they essentially stay the same. For instance, don't fawn over the woman. Don't get her gifts. Don't ever ever let her know you like her. Let her do all the work. Be confident. When you see the signs, do something about it. Don't be a wuss. And don't ever, ever, ever be afraid of rejection. And of course, develop `samurai mind', don't care if she never calls you. Of course these don't really apply if you look like that tall dude in Rang De Basanti, or a certain Mr. Pitt, or a certain, now deceased, Mr. Dean. They don't apply if you drive a Bentley in Bombay, or have a penthouse on Marine drive. But if you're an ordinary journo, with nothing more to his name that a car (with the bolt that holds the windshield in place missing, as I have recently discovered) and a personality, then well, they do apply.

I rode a tank
Held a general's rank
When the Blitzkrieg raged
and the Bodies stank

And honestly, i've had my share of women. A lot less than a lot of men, but that is because I have very strict standards. Most guys i know, even incredibly nice guys who are my best friends, will sleep with anything that moves. Or moved. I have the same policy for food, but not for women. If i've been in any sort of relationship with a girl, thats testimony to the fact that she's got something special about her (except for one...the only thing special about her, was her boobs). Allright, enough of blowing my own trumpet.

Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name, oh yeah
What's puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, oh yeah

So, why, i ask, why? Does a young gent such as myself, forget all that he's learnt, and do everything he really shouldn't, the moment he meets the one girl who he would like to date for a little longer than three weeks? Why does he buy her gifts, and pay for coffee at the Taj Blue Diamond(two cups each). Why does he write her an email telling her just exactly how he feels. Why does he feel like he's the one being judged, rather that let her feel like that. Why does he care if he gets her or not? Is it because, he actually likes to watch her laugh? Is it because he actually likes to hear about her childhood, and isn't thinking about how he can steer the topic around to sex (which happens anyway, when she says, ``tell me two truths and a lie about sex'' which is a game he made up). Is it because she challenges him so much? ("I'm not going to fall for the strategy. There's so much more to you", she says) Is it because it doesn't matter to him that she is, actually, quite pretty. And why does he feel like he's setting himself up to lose this one? What is she doing? he knows she does like him, somehow, but she's not letting him win.

I watched with glee

While your kings and queens

Fought for ten decades

For the gods they made

I shouted out, "Who killed the Gandhis?"

When after all It was you and me

Men dig their own graves you know. They set themselves up for failure. They build it up in their heads, they make the task impossible for themselves. They have it in control, and then they let it go. When they don't care, they do great, but the moment they start, they shoot themselves in the foot. Some of us grow balls, and take the bull by its balls. Some of those that do, get trampled, and some, strangly, get loved by the bull. And the thing is, they can have been with a hundred women, but when they meet the woman that they could fall in love with, they turn into idiots. They say things like, ``she could never like me'', or ``i'm not into committment'', or ``she's got a funny tooth'', or ``it'll never work'', or ''we're friends'', or ``i don't know if she likes me or not''.

Let me please introduce myself

I'm a man of wealth and taste

And I laid traps for troubadours

Who get killed before they reached Bombay

So i know what i must do to get her. a) Stop being such a wuss. b) Stop caring about whether i get her or not. c) Game her a little, charm her a little. d) Make her want me, rather than the other way around. But the problem is, i know i could get her like that, but I might not want to. I want to care, and i want to be afraid, and i want her to want me for what I am, cheesy as that sounds!

Pleased to meet you

Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah

But what's confusing you

Is just the nature of my game

Love, or more precisely, the possibility of it, i tell you, ruins a man. It leaves him begging, when he should be demanding. Women don't beg when they're in love. They only demand when they're not. When its just about the sex. But then, when it's not about the love, and not about the sex, i think maybe, they don't demand then too, but this I can't say for a fact, and thats what fucks us all.

Just as every cop is a criminal

And all the sinners saints

As heads is tails

Just call me Lucifer

'Cause I'm in need of some restraint

So if you meet me

Have some courtesy

Have some sympathy, and some taste

Use all your well-learned politesse

Or I'll lay your soul to waste, um yeah (woo woo, woo woo)

Pleased to meet you

Hope you guessed my name, um yeah (who who)

But what's puzzling you

Is the nature of my game, um mean it, get down

2008-04-16T07:17:00.001-07:00

My house was vacant for a month, and the last people to visit were my sister and my bestbuddy (seperatately, with his girlfriend). One of them left a copy of Filmfare. So i opened it, and leafed through it. There were a couple of hot pics of Mughda Godse. And a photo-type-feature about an ageing model called Rahul Dev, who chooses a young model from a bunch of pictures and `grooms' him.

Now both of them are fairly good looking guys. But Rahul Dev puts the young'un through a ritual which involves a hair expert after saying, ``something must be done about his hair.'' The hair expert says, ``the problem was that he had re-bonded hair...so we had to touch up the base and correct the re-bonding.''

So here'r my questions.
What the fuc* is re-bonded hair?
If you have to re-bond hair, dont you fuc*ing have to bond it first?
And if you correct re-bonding, shouldn't the fuc*ing thing be called 're-re-bonding'.
Who the fuc* comes up with these things?

shite... i'm really out of date, no? But i still believe men should know only two kinds of hair for themselves. Hair, and no hair.

2008-04-09T07:46:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking of posting for a while. And i think this is the perfect time to do it, considering i have a deadline for a story looming large, and i'll get screwed if its not in on time.

As usual, i'll write about a woman. This time, my sister. A former girlfriend who professed to having a thing for women says is very cute. I, of course, don't think so, cos that's just sick. So I will just say that she's smart. And i've just realised that she's smarter than me. And i'll post this g-chat conversation that i had with her to demonstrate.
---------

Sis : (in response to my status message 'Crabs are cute'): and yet u eat them
Sent at 12:03 PM on Wednesday
4wd: i'll show you the whole poem
Sis : show show
4wd: crabs are cutecrabs are sweet
they are full of delicious meat
when u eat u feel like ur in heaven
then u realise that u've gobbled up eleven!
with butter or with chilly or even just with curry
with crabs crabs crabs... never worrryy!
Sis : hehehehehe so cool
4wd: hee hee
whats up
Sis : when you comin home?
then i go offline for a bit, and then come back

4wd: yo supp
Sis : yo yo yo blubber brudder (i dunno why she calls me this, i'm pretty fit)
4wd: hows it hangine
Sis : hangin ok chucky chucka psycho .. how bout u ?
Sent at 7:05 PM on Wednesday
Sis : have u ever heard the whine of those boars that live near the office ? its like the fingernails on the blackboard of the bottom of your soul
Sent at 7:11 PM on Wednesday
4wd: i like it
it sounds like the prelude to a ballet of the making of pork sorpotel
Sent at 7:28 PM on Wednesday
Sis : pork sorpotel from those little buggers seems like it will end in the sonnet of the simmering soup of puke
Sent at 7:34 PM on Wednesday
4wd: true art is never understood in its own time. The ode to the buggers will be deified on the altar of gluttony
Sent at 7:39 PM on Wednesday
Sis : cant argue with the most pious of devotees..whose life is a to and fro pilgrimage between the altar of gluttony and the shrine of shit
Then i dont answer for a bit...because I don't know what to say.

Sent at 7:53 PM on Wednesday
Sis : well bro .. hope ya'll be chillin' at da crib dis weekend coz me thinkin' o' spendin' some fly time popping em c's widy
4wd: c's?
Sis : umm .. i dunno .. hehe
Sent at 7:56 PM on Wednesday
4wd: you're a loon
Sent at 8:02 PM on Wednesday
Sis : thankfully im also also a crab. so im cute . yaay.
---
Damn it. I am no longer the smartest in my family.
-4w

Hasta la Vista, Baybay

2006-07-04T11:08:00.000-07:00

Hmm ... i hate to do this.

But i'm going to go.

Just when I thought this blog was starting to get sort of popular-ish, I think I need to shut it.

I'll start another one, in a few days. If you want to know what it is, for some reason, email me at : fasterjamesfaster@yahoo.co.in, and i'll tell you what my new blog is, when I do get around to making it. If I've linked to you, don't bother writing, i'll tell you anyhow what my new blog is.

And now, a good-bye song. I'm not really sentimental, its just a nice song.
--------

Lullaby

---------

Good night my angel time to close you eyes

And save these questions for another day

I think I know what you've been asking me

I think you know what I've been trying to say

I promised I would never leave you

And you should always know

Where ever you may go

No matter where you areI never will be far away

Good night my angel now it's time to sleep

And still so many things I want to say

Remember all the songs you sang for me

When we went sailing on an emerald bay

And like a boat out on the ocean

I'm rocking you to sleep

The water's dark and deep

Inside this ancient heart

You'll always be a part of me

Goodnight my angel now it's time to dream

And dream how wondeful your life will be

Someday your child will cry and if you sing this lullaby

Then in your heart there will always be a part of me

Someday we'll all be gone But lullabies go on and on

They never die that's how you and I will be

wishlist

2006-06-27T23:08:00.000-07:00

So, my car has been whacked. Sneezy was staying over... he woke up this morning, and said, ``Do you need your car? I have work to do, i'll be done by 1.30.'' Now he says 5.00. I have a date sometime today, and I thought i'd be impressing her with an open jeep. Now I'll have to impress her with a very stylish flourish as I pull my wallet out of my back pocket.

Well, anyhow, i've been Tagged by Juice. I dont normally do tags... and I still have one lying undone. But I'm doing this anyhow.
---------------------------------------
I am thinking about ...
Women. All of them. The short ones, the tall ones. The Cute ones, the not so cute ones. The ones that wanted me, the ones that didn't. The ones the could flirt. The ones that yelled at me. The ones that cried. And, as an afterthought, i'm also thinking a little bt about work, and how I'll probably get fired if I dont get this very unlikely story today.

I said ...
Me: You know what I really want to do?
Her: hmmmm?
Me: Make love to you.
Her: why?
Me: eh?

*In my head, i'm thinking, what the hell sort of question is why? For the record, i didn't have an answer*

I want to ...
Drive the Raid de Himalya.
Ride the Khardung-la.
Mountain bike in British Columbia.
Go to Elevate.
Sky dive.
Walk to Bhrigu.
Snow-board (I think i'd be good. I'm naturally good at this stuff)

I wish...

I wish I was a neutron bomb, for once I could go off

I wish I was a sacrifice but somehow still lived on

I wish I was a sentimental ornament you hung on

The Christmas tree, I wish I was the star that went on top

I wish I was the evidence, I wish I was the grounds

For 50 million hands upraised and open toward the sky

I wish I was a sailor with someone who waited for me

I wish I was as fortunate, as fortunate as me

I wish I was a messenger and all the news was good

I wish I was the full moon shining off a Camaro's hood

I miss ...
Pune. I Miss the hills. I miss having friends that I can run with. Its a really nice city, you know. And people care more about things like the rains than about getting to work on time.

I hear...
Noises in my head. All the time. Really.

I wonder ...
Why, in gods name, why, why, why anyone would want to marry her.

I regret...
I didn't go with Biren to the Army entrance exam.
The New aunt.
Not going to the gym this morning.

I am...
Really fast down hill. Ok, i was, there's no hills in Delhi, so I havn't done that for a while.

I dance ...
With my sister. We do the silly dance, and then hit each other.

I sing...

No, i don't, actually.

I am not always ...

Dependable. But I can always pretend like I am.

I make with my hands...

Cow-dung cakes, that you can plaster your house with to keep flies away. And pots. And paper. None of it too well, but i can do that.

I write...

About dead people. About roads and potholes. About rapes. About stolen money. About funding for schools. Some lies. Some innacuracies. Very little thats 100 percent correct.

I confuse...

Myself a whole lot.

I should try...

A threesome :) With 2 girls, of course... I don't want to see a naked man up close.

I finish...

Very little very well.

__________________________

Ah. That tag is over. Formatting was a bitch. Now that i've done it, I have the privilege to tag as many people as I like. I decree : Sexy Indian Bitch, Bloggerhead, Mahi (when she's back), AQC, and Vijayeta.

On your own blogs, please, not in the comments section!

Confessions of a Lifeguard.

2006-06-21T07:12:00.000-07:00

The problem with me is, I'm a nice guy.

Yes, that is a significant problem.

See, some time ago, I'd decided that all the relationships i'd wanted were completely superficial. Only flings. Nothing serious. Now the problem with that is, you need to be a bit of an asshole to pull that off right. But you see, the bit of asshole in me is a little bit too little.

Now that we're on the topic, I have a nice ass. Or arse, as my now-british friend says.

But coming back to the original asshole, I don't have enough in me.

Like, for instance. There's this girl. A couple of years younger than me. She was an intern at our office. Now, i'm not bragging, but she's in love with me. She messages me all the time. Calls me. Messages me to say that I didn't answer. And I still don't answer. She still messages. The most asshole I can be, is to not answer her calls.

Anyhow, one day, she messaged me, telling me, and I quote, ``I really `dig' you''. First of all, who says `dig' anymore. Secondly, why the hell was the `dig' in single inverted commas?

So i answered : ``huh?''

So she said something about how she really liked me and how she thought about me all the time.

So I said, ``I'm sorry, i just dont feel the same way.'' I couldn't be really rude, so i said, ``its not you, its just, i'm not ready for a relationship.'' But it was her. I mean, she was cute and all, and reasonably smart (ish), but I just couldn't see myself with her. So I said, ``I'm sorry''.
So she said, ``How about just a fling then?''
In my head, i could
a) See a new post for this blog
b) See that, if persued, things would not end well.
It would have been easy for me. Have the fling, and then say, ``Look you said just fling, so, ta ta.''

Time out : I said to my roomie, ``Dude, this chick keeps messaging, like what do I do?'' He answers, ``Just fuck her and get it over with.'' I just went, ``huh?'' So he answers, ``Yea, after a guy fucks a woman, she's not interested in him anymore.'' I had to laugh at him...

Anyhow, so its very easy to have a fling with this girl. But i can't. Maybe if I liked her a little more. I'd put my principles aside for some women.

It all seems a little pointless when youre main aim in life is to have meaningless relationships, but you're just too principled. It's like, having a Dodge Viper, but refusing to drift, because its unsafe for oncoming traffic.

Ok, i'm a nice guy. Thats settled. But the problem is that the asshole in me keeps popping up every now and then.

This wednesday, I went to TC with some people from work. I havn't been there in ages. For a wednesday night (which is Media night, for all you non delhi folk) it was really empty. Like i could walk around, and if i wanted to, dance like a cossack, and breathe.

If less people from work were reading this, i could have a longer story, but I'll just say that this new girl from work brought her TOTALLY hot friend. In a little Tube top. I was totally trying to hit on this new girl, whose name i can't remember.

But if you studied my post about strategising women, you'll know that all women want what a) They can't get, and b) what other women want. So since I wanted hot tube-top woman, new girl from work wanted me. And since new girl from work wanted me, hot tube-top woman was automatically more interested in me.

But i keep remembering Sneezy's parting words :``Never play where you work, and never work where you play.'' I know that if I fool around with someone from work, it can't be good. It has to be awkward. Something has to go wrong.

I think too much. That's my problem.

I have so many problems. Aargh.

---------------------------
Also in this issue :
* Sneezy's visiting me tomorrow. ``Arrange me women,'' he said. I can't. I have to pick up the schmuck at 9am from the airport, dressed in formals. Then the two of us have to drive to New Okhla Industrial Development Authority (aka NOIDA) and make a presentation to a multinational company. I have to pretend to be ``his associate''.
* I saw MI:3. It has to be the best movie made this year. Its so fast paced, you never stop to think that the movie makes no logical sense.
* I'm totally broke.

Ambition.

2006-06-13T12:51:00.000-07:00

So, here I am. Sitting at home. When I should be working. I called my boss and said, ``I'm going straight to PHQ (Police HQ), so I won't make it to the meeting... is that ok?''. But here I am. Not at PHQ.

I have no idea where I'm going. Maybe I should go to another city and work. My choices are between one city that's full of reporters, but also has a lot of pretty women, some of whom I already know, and one city that doesn't have so many reporters, but no women either. Work ... women ... work... women... so difficult is the choice.

Whenever my daddy thought he should have a conversation with me, he said, ``Son, what are you going to do with life?'' Now my daddy and me didn't have a lot to talk about, so everytime we were in a room with each other, he decided it was the right question to ask.

So here I am, dad. Here's what I want to do :)

In case you think I'm going to list out my career and professional goals here, sorry no. ( But if you must know, i'm going to be a Media Mogul.)

These are the women that I would like to date before I die. Of course, i could die tomorrow. Like Gautam Buddha said, nothing is permanent. So, my list doesn't actually have any names in it. Instead, i've made this list profession-wise. Since i'm a professional-and-all-that myself. Of course, there may be women outside these professional brackets. And this list may change as I grow older... Like Gautama Buddha said, `Nothing is permanent'.

And, if you read my last post, I'd outlined a strategy for women. That's what i'm going to use. Everytime I meet a pretty girl, i'm going to say, ``Sorry, i dont want you.''
-----------------------------------------------
1) The model. Ok, this is a pretty obvious profession. Every man worth his Homer Simpson boxers wants to date a Model. But since i'm being realistic, i'm not looking for a super-model or anything. Just a normal, even struggling struggling model will do. She could be in a Close-up ad. Liril, oh yes Liril. Ramp, good too... except then she might be taller than me... which is ok with me, since I've had a 6foot tall gf, who was some 4 inches taller than me. Ok 3.5''. But i dont want a really bad model... I'm really shallow. So sue me.

2) The corporate. You know, the kind that wears black suits and high heels to work. With no time for a family. She shouldn't even have time for me. Maybe an investment banker.

3) The CNBC anchor. No no, not like Jay Leno. Like the ones on CNBC-TV18. Has anyone noticed that they are by far the cutest of any TV channel? NDTV has some cute anchors too... but i'm sticking by CNBC anchors for my list. This EXCLUDES cnn-ibn anchors... I'm not interested there at all... except for that one REALLY hot one... but i dont think she's interested in me at all:)

4) NGO activist. You know, the kind that has glasses, and wears Khadi stuff thats NOT from Fabindia? She should talk about things like why the Lower Subansiri dam is bad for the people of Upper Assam. Or how archaic india's laws regarding undertrials are. Or that article 377 of the IPC should be scrapped. Things like that.

5) A writer. Not a recreational, write-short-stories-for-the-Telegraph type of writer. One with a proper book already out... and even better if it's sold a few copies already. Only, I don't want to date someone who doesn't write fiction... at least not till i'm 40, anyway.

6) A Ph.D Student. Yeh, you know. With glasses and all. Possibly someone studying solid-state physics, or the lineage of the Shaka Clan in africa.

7) A lesbian. Ok, i know this is not exactly a profession, but think of all the possibilities. And i also know that options 4 & 5 might also be option 7, but ... er.. think of all the possiblities!

8) A pilot. No no, not one for Jet Airways, or Spicejet. One that flies for the Indian Air Force. In fact, i even met a cute one in Bidar Air Base... but all she said to me was, ``Sir yes sir.'' ``I'm going to be an Air Warrior, Sir.'' And pilots in the IAF can't fly fighters yet, though all the senior pilots i've met said they should be allowed to. But for now, i'll be happy meeting a Mi-17 or An-32 pilot.

9) Hiker. You know, with green shorts, fit, dreams about making love under K2 when she goes to bed. There's something about an outdoor girl that city girls just can't match.

10) Computer Geek. This includes graphic artists, web-designers, software gurus, all of them.

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

So, that is the list for now. I'm sure there's more, but I just can't think of any. If any of my dear readers fall into any of these brackets, you can apply. Just send in a resume, accompanied by a video or two colour photographs to fasterjamesfaster@yahoo.co.in. And please, no men.

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

Also in this issue.

* Who's the smoodle who said something about yellow? Look at this : http://www.rsportscars.com/eng/cars/civic_type-r.asp . Can't you love that? It's a Civic. You know, you get those here. Not the concept, but the Civic.

* Fanaa is the most shit-assed movie ever. The pity is that it could be great, but its not.

* I want to se MI3.

Psychology class

2006-06-09T22:04:00.000-07:00

This post is for the men.

--Disclaimer : This post has a disclaimer at the bottom. Please read it after you're done. Dont kill things, its not good Karma. Don't be mean to bicyclists, its not good Karma. Don't eat too much Pizza, its not good for you. --

I know what women want. I've figured it out, and i'm going to impart this knowledge to all you men, and some of you women that may want it, out there. Before I begin, let me tell you that I have all the theoretical knowledege, but putting it into practical application is hard... even for me. Its like removing a crank from a mountain bike. You KNOW that you should use the crank-puller, and gently remove, and never use a hammer... but you just have to hammer, just once. And, that, my friends, is what kills the bottom-bracket.

But first, children, lets deal with a few common misconceptions about what women really want.

1) Money. Well, it helps. But its not everything. It can buy you a lot of good things, but not all good things. You can have all the money in the world, but if you've never slept in an Alpine meadow in the himalayas, you haven't been anywhere. Coming back to women. Yea, women like money, sure. But there is advantage in being the underdog with no money. And its cheaper.

2) A hot body. Well, i'm sure it helps. But you can do without it. I've seen and known all sorts of men, tall and skinny, really short and reallu skinny, fat, plumish, pear-shaped, wobbly, jiggly and even hunchbacked get hooked to hot women. That said, its not a bad idea to work out a little bit. (in case anyone says i work out for the women, no I don't. I work out for me.)

3) A hot face. Well, yea, that may help too. But there is no clear consensus amongst women on what exactly a hot face is. So some women find Vince Vaugh hot, some find Brad Pitt. Some find Billy Bob Thornton. Some overlap, yes, but some even find our own Paresh Rawal hot. Some like Rajnikant even. So this is really a moot point... every face is bound to have some likers.

4) A nice car. Ok, this might help too. But not really. I mean, a bike is sexier than a car. And men and women differ vastly on the subject of cars. Ok, you need to have some transportation to drive her somewhere, and a scooty pep isn't much class. If you were in goa, you could get Lambretta.. that would be cool. But you can get by without it. Really.

5) Superpowers. No point. Really. If you have them, use them. But if you don't, its ok. Unless you want to date Storm. Which you could even without superpowers, if you used my knowledge.

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

And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for.

Bum da bum bum baa bum.

Women want, what they can't get.

Simple. Thats how easy it is. If they cant get you, they want you. Simple. If you're all over a woman, and saying ``take me take me please'', they dont want you. Simple.

So now that you have this almost ethereal piece of knowledge, you have to change your strategy to incorporate it. If you meet a woman you like, don't call/message her incessantly. This is something i've been guilty of, and it doesn't work very well, i know. Let her call you also. If she doesn't call, find someone else that cant get you.

If you meet a girl at a party, don't stick to her like a leech, trying to make intelligent conversation. Even if you're a phd in agro-physics, leave it out. Go chat with the other women. That works double because

bum da bum bum biddy bum

All women want what other women want.

So if you're at a party, and you like this one woman, go talk to the others. The others will like you, cos you don't really like them, so subconsiously, they know they cant get you, so they want you. If all the others want you, and Ms. (or Mrs., if you can be that smooth) thinks she can't get you cos you're hardly talking to her, then she'll want you.

So strategy for such a situation should be, -go say hi to the girl - say something funny - move away - chat up the other women - come back and say hi occasionally - flirt with the other women - get flirted back - make your move on ms. x.

How's that eh?

So if you meet her professionally or something, ask her once for coffee... not like everyday. If she says 'I'm busy', you say, `ok call me when you're not' and move on.

If you want to succeed at this, its imperative that you develop a samurai like state of mind. Those guys left home everyday with incense in their helmets, so if hey were to be beheaded, it would smell sweet. Be ready to not get women. But remember, with enough practice, you'll get pretty good with them samurai blades. Remember Toshiro Mifune.

Remember, if you confuse a woman, she'll like you. Simple.

Oh, and, smell nice.

--Disclaimer : Don't take this too seriously. If you mess up, and lose the woman of your dreams, i'm not to blame. If you're a woman, don't get pissed off cos i let out your secret. Even if you didn't know it was your secret. This post has NOTHING to do with my previous post, for those of you that read me regularly. --

In Defense of yellow + A small dissertation on women.

2006-06-08T02:00:00.000-07:00

When my font was yellow, a lot of people said ``eeks yellow'', even though, you know, i'd said it was temporary. What the problem with yellow is, i dont know. What pink is to girls, yellow is to boys.
Case in point : The Yellow mitsubishi lancer. Isn't that sweet?
Case in point 2: The Yellow Skoda Rally Sport. Isn't that also sweet. (And NOBODY give me crap about the skoda being downmarket anywhere outside India... its got a Audi TT engine, and i've seen it bite the ass off one. )

And to defy all those of you that didn't like the yellow, there's a little yellow line on the left side of my template, which will never go away. You can resize the box to make the car, the babe,everything go away, but not the yellow line :)

Now, coming to the women. I think i've figured out what the problem with women is. Well, most women, at least. Not all, i'll admit, but I will extrapolate this thesis to all women. Mainly because i'm in a particularly bad mood.

Here's what I think. Women love to be hard on themselves. They love to beat themselves up. They want to be with a guy thats wrong for them. They never take the easy way out, always hacking through a rain forest with a dull machete. When they should let go, they won't. Decisions that are obvious to any halfway-intelligent onlooker are carried around like water-coolers. Women, i'm telling you, are pointless. And very often, stupid.

How many women do you know that are with a guy that is obviously not right for them, and they're still saying, ``Maybe it can work?''
But how many men do you know in the same situation? Hmm?

When something's obviously over, for whatever reason, how many men do you know that are still hanging on, waiting for the wind to change? Men just go find another ship to sail.

I know a tonne of women, who will let a hundred good things go by, waiting for the wrong thing to become right.

When you give a woman good advice, she's not going to take it.

Which is why you see so many hot, intelligent women with fat ugly slobs. Except those with footballers as significant others. Footballers always seem to have supermodel girlfriends.

If you think about it, you'll see that a lot more women forgive their men for cheating on them than the other way around.

Ok. I know. Some of this is inaccurate. But some of it isn't. But like I said, i'm not in a good mood. Grr.
________

Also in this issue:
* I've been tagged. Yes, i will respond, albino :P
* I hadn't paid my phone bill for a while, so my DSL was down too. Expect more of me soon, and i'll probably be happier tomorrow, so expect a more sensible, better post.
* I didn;t work out for 2 weeks. But now i'm back. With protein shake, sprouts as snacks, the works.

slow down you craaazy child

2006-06-01T11:56:00.000-07:00

Where's the fire, what's the hurry about?
you've got so much to do and only so many hours in a dayyyyayeaayyy

But you know that when the truth is told..
That you can get what you want or you can just get get old
You're gonna kick off before you even
Get halfway through
When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?

You better.... cool it down before you burn it out...
Why don't you realise..... ooo oo ...vienna waits for you.

My last post had a few comments saying how disliked my template is :P

ok the lyrics may be a tad mixed up. But slow down, y'all. I already said that i still need to get the text colours (colors, if you're doing the HTML) right. The yellow was temporary, cos i couldn't get any other colour that would look ok on a grey background. There's way too much happening in the city and in my life for me to spend the time figureing CSS out.

Yes, freesprit, she's not in a bikini. I typed that out by mistake :) I'm close enough to hell as it is, don't tell god.

But mosilager.... dude, you're is the coolest idea. Will do asap. Say hi to the dogs for me.

Punkster ~ the next time you're in this country, i'll buy you dinner :P
Bloghead ~ the next time you're free, you can buy me dinner.
Mahi ~ You get dinner too. even though you weren't nice to my template. Its a grey bg, not white!

Men at work

2006-05-25T12:27:00.000-07:00

UPDATE : OK people. this is mostly what it'll be. I made the background myself. I made the top image myself... i just stole the bikini lady from somewhere. If you made it, and want it off here, please tell me. I've the alignment just about right... now i just need to get the text colours right. Feedback?

I'm redoing the template a bit... so if things look odd at any point, ignore it, it'll be better soon, or if it doesn't work, back to the old default.

Life's little regrets...

2006-05-15T03:36:00.000-07:00

There are few things I regret in life. I believe that whatever happens, happens and there's little you can do to make it unhappen. This little story, is one of those regrets, that i do actually regret.

A few years ago, my friend and me went to this guy's wedding. My friend, sneezy (I think i referred to him in a previous post as tall-boy, because, well, he's tall) was there with me. The guy getting married had just become a dentist, and was all of 24, and his wife was all of 25, and they were happily married. At 24 now, there's no marriage in sight for me, and Sneezy's 27, and is insistent that he only wants a quick fling. Not even a longish fling. ``A week,'' he says.

Well, anyway, me and Sneezy didn't know a lot of people... I didnt drink in those days, and i think he didn't feel like, so we just walked around, saying hello to some old people. Anyway, this young lady walks up to us and says, ``Hi *sneezy*.''

Now before this story continues, let me make it clear that she was pretty hot. Younger than both of us, but hot. It was some years ago, but I remember that she was in a black salwar-kurta thing. Sweet girl

She asks my dear friend about work, his sister, chats with hom very very warmly for a good 10 minutes... and the sweet man just leaves me out of the conversation. He chatting, smiling, laughing with her, and i'm just standing there. So eventally, i've had enough.

``So,'' i butt in, ``aren't you going to introduce us?''
Sneezy : ``Oh sorry.''
He looks at her, looks back at me, and says, ``This is *4wd*, and *4wd*, this is a very old family friend of ours.
Me :``Oh is that so?''
Sneezy : ``Yes''
Me : ``Well, doesn't she have a name?''

I have to confess that by this time I KNEW that he'd forgotten her name.

Sneezy : ``Of course she does.''
Me : ``Well, what is it.''
Sneezy : ``Its um. its... er.. ''
Finally, the hot woman speaks.
Hot woman : ``Well, what is it?''
Him : ``erm.''

She introduces herself to me, and walks away from us a few minutes later. I burst out laughing, he kicks me.

After this, everytime I met Sneezy, he never fails to remind me about this. ``You bastard, she doesn't talk to me anymore! She was so friendly with me you mother fucker!''

This is my regret. And here's why.

I'm home for the weekend, and spent most of my time with Sneezy. He remided me twice about this girl and called my a cocksucker. We were driving down the road to my house, outside a multiplex, when this amazing woman crosses the road. She's not walking, she's doing this little catwalk thing. She's wearing jeans and singlet, and a broad belt, and has the MOSTEST amazingest body i've seen in years.

I'm driving, and i'm forced to slow down... and I have to go, ``whoa.''

She's tall, and if she wants to, i know she could be a supermodel, she's that hot. If god wanted angel's or sub-goddesses for heaven, she could apply, and would get the job hands down. If the devil wanted a hot assistant dressed in a red bikini fanning the coals under the pots that people like me will be cooked in, she'd still get the job.

"You bastard!!" sneezy shouts suddenly.
"huh? what ? what happened?'' i say.
"You mother fucker!!"
"WHAT?"
"Thats her!!"
"what? who?"
"Her. see what you made me lose out on!"
Then it hits me. It is her. Shit.
We spent the next hour discussing her. I've decided that, since Sneezy's friends are good family friends with her's, if they ever want her to get married, my name should be suggested. Sneezy doesnt think so.

If i hadn't messed it up for him that night, he could have introduced me to her. He believes that he would have eventually got her to go out with him. I don't believe that. But now that story is over. Just cos i felt silly. Damn me.

Then we did the usual thing... drove fast in my dad's car and pulled hand-brake turns and scared the osho-ites in white robes. Those are the days i miss
-----------------
Life updates :
-I went to the Siachen Glacier. It was really cold. But HR wont let me post about work.
-I went home. Ate free food.
-My working out is begging to pay off. I've put on like 5 kilos, all muscle, and i started swimming at home, so i'm on the way to rippedness. Net time you're around ask to feel my arms or lats.
-I want to change my template.

2006-05-07T02:47:00.000-07:00

Someone wrote about men's loos.

There's this new guy at work, who's a Master's in International Relations. He talks funny. All serious and big-wordy. Like last night, at my boss's party, i said to him, ``Dude, dude, can i get you a drink?'' . He said something like, ``Not presently. I'm don't consume alcohol.''

Anyway, after a long day of following Gurgaon's gangs yesterday, I came back to work. I went into the loo, to pee of course, and there he was. He was standing at urinal 3. urinal 2 was empty, and I took urinal 1.

This is an actual conversation.

Me : ``Hey bro, whats up.''
Him: ``Hello.''
Me:``How's it going?''
Him: ``Fine''
Me:``Dude, did you get new spectalcles?''
Him: ``Well, today I went to the markets. To get reactions on the Government decision. It was ok, but a little redundant.''
Me: ``oh''
Him : *smile
Me: ``Dude, no, did you get *slightly louder now* NEW SPECTACLES.''
Him : ``oh. thats what you said.''
Me: ``Yes. Well, did you?''
Him: ``The old one's broke down, so I had to take recourse of these.''

I swear he said that.

ps. sticking to my new promise, i only had one rum, and one straight up shot of run with my boss. When the big bosses arrived, i wasn't looney, and didn't say silly things about the appraisal system

its been a while .... but there's pics of me.

2006-05-01T11:12:00.000-07:00

I havn't been here in a while. For a bit, I thought i was off blogging for good... I didn't know what to write about. Does everyone go through that after a few months of blogging? But for my loyal reader, (even the one who is from turkmenistan), i have pics of me :) No, you wont be able to identify me using the pics, but at least you'll know I can get cool pics and don't look like either Mable, Mo or Eminem.

First off, i have a resolution. I'm not going to drink all that much. It gets me in trouble. So the last time I had a drink, it was just one pint of beer. But it was a really expensive Corona.

Here's some of the things I did.

* I went to TC and set up two of my friends and felt really happy in my drunken state about it. Then i woke up the next morning less drunk and still felt happy. I feel so damn girly. Ugh. I need to shake this goody-cupid-feeling off. The two are not seeing each other yet, but i think there's a chance now.

* I got in trouble.

* Now this is bizzare. I went to dinner (the one where i had that corona) with my ex and her date. Ok, she's going to say he wasn't a date, just an old friend, but i'm sure that he was expecting a date. She didn't even tell him I was gonna tag along. I said to her, ``Are you sure I can come? its rude. And you two might get along better without me.'' She said to me, ``No come on. It'll be fun with you. Anyway, i could never want to go on a date with him. He's short, plump, and has really thick spectacles.'' ``Ha ha ha...'' said I.

Anyway, as it turns out, shorty did a little growing up. He certainly was a few inches taller than me. Being on the Berkeley (i dont even know if its spelt right) University squash team had made the plumpness come to his chest and arms from his tummy. And no sight of those damn `thick spectacles'. So he had this hoigty-toighty accent. Had a much earning job in california or something. Went on and on about being stalked by this girl. Lost a bet to my ex which entails buying her dinner. (He never offered me another dinner, though, even though he didn't pay for this one). This one is definately going down in my memoirs.

* Realised, once again, that my ex is really, still, my best friend, and i'm so happy for that. Shit i sound like a girl again. sniff sniff.

* Met my old bud from home (codename : tallman). We drove around, watched Ice Age 2 with his sister. Ate a lot. Wasted our money. Then we went off-road. Grr. Ignore all the mushy part of the blog above, and concentrate here, cos this is where the man part shows.

We went to my secret, little off road bit. Drove fast. Did donuts. Took pics. Talked about women, refering to most of them as, ``hottie-tottie'', ``bitch of a witch'', ``slippy-slidey'', ``slutty-putty'', ``picky-chicky'' or words like that. There was also the occasional ``Oh she's a nice girl. You should have stuck with her.''

Tallman's sister, tallishgirl, told me that they'd been ``looking for a girl for him.'' ``We met one yesterday, here in delhi. She's nice, could be pretty. Is a teacher in an international school... but in kurukshetra. She majored in english... but, um, the only thing is, um, she's not very comfortable with speaking English.''

Ha ha. Me and tallboy started laughing and spilt Jerry Wong's hot and sour soup. Later he said, ``Dude, i dont want to get married. I just met her because of family pressure. I dont want a relationship. I'm fling type. Anyway, this kurukshetra babe wont be to comfortable with us when we go to Goa. '' Ha ha i laughed, and lurched as the steering wheel spun around super fast cos we hit a big stone with the left front wheel. I learned a valuable lesson in life : When FourWheelHigh can't help you up a big rock, shift to FourWheelLow ... the steepest uphills become like downhills. Of course, i didn't learn this soon enough, and the engine (or 'injin' as tallboy says) got really hot and smoky. Like me. Except i don't smoke. Cos its bad for your lungs.

Then we talked about the time I ran away from home. No, i really really ran. I just ran out of my house after a fight with my folks at midnight, and kept running. I didn't stop running for many hours. My parents called him, and the 3 of them drove around the city looking for me. Eventually i came home. The next day, he took me out to coffee, and being a few years elder to me, said, ``Dude, we were worried.'' That's all he said. We talked about shit, but he didn't sermonise. Today, we just laughed about how much I ran that day.

Then we met another old friend, and took her to dinner. But there's no story there, except that i packed my chicken piri piri.

* People should be nice to themselves. Thats a valuable lesson. Not beat themselves up over shit. And not like people that want to make them beat themselves up over shit. See, look at me. I rarely beat myself up. If you want to be hard on yourself, join a karate dojo. I know a great one if you're in Pune.

* The car. If you've seen it, and you now know who I am, bravo. Don't tell anyone, dont walk upto me and say, ``wow, i've been working with you for the past 9 months'' (cos i'm expecting that) My anonymity is shot anyway. Other than the people that already know me from real life, including my spiffy ex, The Compulsive Confessor has known who I am for a while, and is responsible for many of my hits.

Thats all I have to say for a while. Rock 'n' roll, babes.

I'm a crush-ee

2006-04-14T11:56:00.000-07:00

I've had a busy week. And I havn't gone out in ages. My schedule now goes : Get up - gym - drink protein drink with breakfast- bathe - go to work late - dont do anything spectacular - get sent somewhere - not get a great story - come back -check blogs - sleep.

Fortunately, the inverted pyramid doesn't apply to blogs (or to TV), so I can start my story now :)

Ok, we have all these interns at office. Two of them are very unfit, and not my type. My roomie, though, thinks they're ok. (Healthy hain yaar!) Anyway, they have an intern friend, who's in another department. Now she, is cute. Not my type, and I'm not interested at the moment. But she is quite cute.

Anyway, now here I am, sitting in my chair. Lounging (yes, i lounge in the newsroom. Sue me). Head tilted back, arms behind my head. Feet off the floor. I happen to swivel the chair a little bit, and there she is. Sitting on a table, just looking at me.

I'm looking at her, but she won't look away. She's just undressing me with her eyes. Ok I made up that last bit, but, you get the point. So, anyway, I wave, and she waves back.

Then later, i'm sitting around, and she'll come sit next to me. ``So, how was that assignment? I liked the story.'' Me: ``er, it was ok, nothing special.'' Pinky *thats what i'll call her*:``Must be really hard. I wish i could do that stuff.''

Ok, the thing here is that the assignment in question wasn't particularly hard. Pretty women are forgiven a lot of things, you know.

Then, again, later, i go to a private-ish place to make a phone call. The three of them are sitting there, chatting and giggling. That's what they do. They giggle. As soon as i enter, stage left, two of them exit, stage right. (If you want to imagine that in your head, you'll have to switch the left and right to match the geographical directions).

And she's just there chatting with me. ``Oh, that day when you dropped us in your car, we forget to ask you if you wanted to come to dinner with us!''
Me: ``That's ok. I had plans.''
Pinky: ``You had plans??''
Me: ``Yes I have a life.''
Pinky: ``Oh thank god.''
Me :``Don't worry, we'll get dinner some other time.''
Pinky:``yes yes... we should.''

Now i try and try, but I cannot, Can Not, get the point of that conversation.

Everytime she's in the room, and i'm walking around, I know that this girl is looking at me. I have no idea why. If I were a woman, i could write a post about sexual harrasment, and 132 comments and a fight. And about how I hate that my body is treated like an object. But i'm a man, so i actually quite am in favour of it.

And, i think that another woman has a bit of a crush on my. But more on that in another post :)

Ok ok, so i'm halfway cute, but i'm not like, a male Tyra Banks or anything. But who am I to complain. So I sit down, lean back in my chair, flex my biceps, and smile. It would have been better if my roomie hadn't suddenly said, ``Dude, you've been working out 2 weeks. You have no biceps.''

I'm not attracted to this intern, but it is a big ego boost to be a crush-ee. Bed time now, I have arms and abs at the gym tomorrow.

By the way, its a little late, but I've discovered LimeWire. Land Ahoy, me hearties.

ah shoes.

2006-04-12T12:14:00.000-07:00

I know that somewhere, this blog comes with the promise of being funny and completly non-serious oftener than non-funny and serious. But i figure two funny posts, followed by one that's just half hearted, followed by two that are serious-ish, are a decent trade off.

If you remember my new shoes (if you dont scroll down to the previous post), they just got done with Baptism. Lots of standing around, some sprinting, lots of soot, some dead people. Looks like a promising start. I still have to get used to this anatomical insole though... feels a little uncomfortable sometimes.

I got sent to cover the meerut fire... one of my biggest spots yet. For you non-reporter types, a spot is when something happens... like salman goes to jail. The opposite of a spot is a special, like what salman and his cell-mate talked about, and the words that the the cell-mate used to describe Katrina. There are more types of stories, like stolen stories and plants, but thats another lesson.

Anyway, so I found myself, on my day off, in the back of an Indica, my photographer next to me, stuck in a traffic jam on the way to meerut. TV crews zipped one way, and ambulances the other. I was wearing what i call my `babe shirt'. Its brown corduroy, and supposed to be worn unironed. I had no notepad, no pen, nothing.

If you don't already know, there was a big fire in meerut, and a lot of people died.

All the way there, for some reason, I had this little cuticle-thing on my finger, and it kept pissing me off. I bit, and i scratched, but i couldn't get rid of it. I swear this is a true, inconsequential, but true story.

Anyway, 10 minutes before we reach the spot, my photographer yells, ``stop the car,'' and jumps out. ``I have to prepare for the night,'' he says.

Prepare for the night? eh? What's he going to do, arrange a room, fix up with a net-cafe to keep it open all night?

``What will you drink, is rum ok?''
Rum? I think? rum? people are dying here, and he wants rum?
`Sir, we're getting late, can't we get rum later?''
``We're already two hours late,'' he says, ``5 minutes can't change things.''

Ok, i seethe. Get the rum. Only later that night did I realise how much more 14 years of experience counted than my 1 and a half, and i thank god for that rum.

I've never actually sat down with a man, and drank alcohol for no reason. Its not something I see the point in. I'll drink when i'm out, wth friends. Here I was, with a 35 year old man in his underwear, and we finished a half bottle of rum.

I think that to get burnt alive is the worst way to die. When you die, your terror is frozen on your face, but every shred of humanness and dignity has been stripped from you. I think that its hell for a dead person's loved ones to come identify them, and seperate them from other people that all look the same. But I think that the after the first couple of times, you get used to it, and dont have to look away and cover your face. The smell though, you can't ever actually get used to.

And as an aside, i realised that if your MotoRazr V3i runs out of battery, NOBODY will be able to help you. They'll just say, ``Nice phone sir, no charger?'' or ``Ha ha ha, you should have got a nokia, then i could give you a charger'' or ``thats why i didn't get this phone''. Yes. Fuck you too.

Unfortunately, i didn't meet any pretty women on this trip.

hmm ok, this was quite a random post. I've run out of things to say.

and I should sleep. I've missed gym for 3 days now because of work. Ah well.

You can tell a man by his shoes.

2006-04-08T11:48:00.000-07:00

For some reason, I have no idea what to blog about. Its not that I don't have anything to say ... I do. I'm not sure if I want to say a lot of this here. My blog isn't really anon anymore. Which shouldn't matter, since I just have an average of 100 people visiting everyday. (I also have someone from turkey!) But it does.
Well, anyway, I didn't have much to do last evening, and I was bored. So I went out and bought shoes and shorts. Its a man's version of retail therapy. I took my 15 minutes, and I spent a fourth of my salary.

Anyway, I thought that you (the reader) should meet my shoes. I suddenly realised that I have a lot of them. There's sporty, cool, and character in them. Shoes, meet the readers, readers, shoes. Now judge me.

_____________________ _____________________

These are my new Adidas shoes. They look like sherpa shoes. If you think that Sherpas don't wear expensive boots, think again. They wear expensive boots, they just buy them for cheap. These babies, I have never actually worn. So they have no history, no character. But they are quite comfortable. As I was buying them, the salesman kept saying things like, ``Sir, comfort insole''. ``Sir, bacteria resisitant.'' ``Sir, High quality leather''. Eventually i realised he was reading off the tag that came with the shoe.

____

Now these babies, are a testament to Why. Nike. Sucks. These, when I bought them, were the most expensive shoes I owned. But it took just four months for them to wear out. The right shoe started fraying, and the hooks for the laces tore, and they don't tie well anymore. Later I realised that they began fraying because of the friction with the gear-shift on my bike. (if anyone can guess which bike I had from that info, 10 bucks. Or dinner if you're a girl)(if you already know, then you get nothing. Unless you're a girl, in which case, we can arrange dinner.)
_____

Say Hello. I know they look terrible. I know they're torn. I know they're not waterproof anymore. I know the suede has rotted at one place. I know the laces are frayed beyond repair. But these are my favourite shoes. They're slightly uncomfortable now, but I love them for the way i feel in them. These are Salomon hiking shoes. My mom bought me these for 3500 bucks, when Salomon was owned by Adidas. They've lasted me more than six years now. I've lost count. And i'm not about to get rid of them anytime soon. I will cry when i have to let them go. They've seen me through so much. Like the time me and some friends got stuck in a flash flood, and I had to run 4 km back to the village, in the pouring rain on the side of a hill. Or the hike in the himalays, where I slipped and fell, only to look up and see a Monal Pheasant (a very very rare bird). These shoes have stepped in pools of blood. They were therewhen I made friends with Maratha Light Infantry Jawans in Uri. They were there when boys my age in Dibrugarh told me why they're so afraid of the army. They were there when we let leeches feed of us in Nagarhole (its just the bad blood that goes, and its not painful). The last time I wore them, my left foot went ankle-deep into a drain in a Delhi Slum, while people around carried charred bodies out through narrow lanes. These are my shoes. These shoes are me.
_____

These are clima-cool running shoes. There's more ventilation in them than actual shoe. The only place I've actually gone for long runs in these are in Goa, where I realised all the ventilation doesn't do very well with sand. I wear them to the gym. The cool thing about these shoes is, when I walk into a shoe shop wearing them, all the salespeople turn to look at them. I get things like, ``Sir, those are Adidas Clima-cool model number whatever. Beautiful shoes.'' Really. I swear.
_____

These two pairs are my black shoes. One of them I just bought, cos i realised I didn't have any shoes of this Genre. They're clunky, and not me, but they go with jeans. The other one are the shoes I wear to job interviews. I don't really wear white socks with them (the socks pictured are my roomies). I just put the white socks there cos i used to wear very similar shoes with white socks in school :) (st. mary's boys, by the way). No history here.
_____
These floaters and chappals... well, the chappals I just wear at home, and get pissed of if anyone takes outside my house. The floaters are partners in crime with my salomons. Except they just accompany me everywhere, and i wear them when I'm lounging. Yes, I lounge. They're adidas too, and torn as hell too. The good thing about floaters is that you dont need to pack them. You cn just hook them to the outside of your backpack, and you're ready to go. You can even lounge at a railway station. The velcro on them isn't so velcro anymore, so they dont stay on very well, which makes them all the better for lounging.
_____
Those are my shoes. Now i have to go to work, and I think i'll wear my new shoes today. But before I leave you, here's a pic of shoes I would kill for. (sorry for the image-heavy post. But hey, its my blog)

This is not funny (and some blog reviews)

2006-04-06T08:03:00.000-07:00

Well, at least as I write this post, i dont intend it to be funny. There's somedays, you just dont feel funny. Not in a bad way, but like, you're happy and not feeling like making any jokes, thats all.

Some days you don't even like to think about sex. But fortunately, that's never happened to me since the day I attained puberty. Well, i dont exactly remember the day, but I know that my friends told me i could only do that sort of stuff after I got into puberty. So then i realised i'd grown up a while ago, and didn't know it, without an exact date.

Shit, was that funny? Damn, I screw up my Para-1 resolution in para-2. Thats not funny, thats just stupid. Some people will agree, and go away, some people will think stupid is funny, and come back.

_________________ __________________

This post is about cell phones.

_________________ __________________

I used to have a nice Nokia 3230 until a few days ago. I liked the phone. I was comfortable with it, it was easy to type with, it hung once in a way, but I was used to it. I was so used it, i knew exactly when it was about to hang. I downloaded a little game on it called Air Warrior, which involved flying around and shooting anything you saw, and picking up little men (in a rescue-mission sense) that went ``yee-haaw'' every time you rescued them. I'd play the game for hours. I slipped up on so many stories, made a fool of my self in a few press conferences, went a little cock-eyed because of the game.

I loved the camera. I took so many pics, some i've saved. I downloaded a theme called `nice' that had nude women.

But above all... it just ... fit in my hand, you know. It felt right.

Then one day, my mom came along with a new phone that she'd bought, and couldn't use because she couldn't operate. So in my greed, i offered to exchange it.

And because of that, i am now the owner of a sexy silver-black MotoRazr V3i.

This phone is what they call S-E-X-Y. Its cool, its hot, its sleek, lean, mean, futuristic, and the second-in-command in my paper has the same phone.

But it doesn't have my game. Its hard to type - there's nothing quite like nokia's autotype - it charges funny, you can't share most people's chargers, you cant drop it. You can't type while driving. Somehow, it just doesn't fit the side of your face right.

So now i'm wondering if it was such a good idea to let my old phone go. But now its gone. A decision that I made, and I have to live with the consequences. Now now, i just have to wait and see if my new phone eventually fits into my hand like the old one (seems to be getting there) or find a better phone.

Just like my bike. Or my other bike.
Hmm ... as it turns out, this post isn't so much about phones.

______

Here are blogs you SHOULD check out... cos they are amazing. I know i'm not much of a blog reviewer, and i'm not giving you 3 top news blogs I like (i dont like any, and i think ALL news blogs in india are shit, including the award winners, that were given awards by other bloggers, but that is a post for another blog).

I dont know why i just said that, but take a look at these blogs. I quite enjoyed them.
* spaces.msn.com/fatcyclist - no, you don't need to be a biker.
* http://newyorkhack.blogspot.com/ - female cabbie in new york. When I go there, i'm gonna look her up and get her to drive me.
* http://girlwithaonetrackmind.blogspot.com/ - er.. sex?
* http://frenchmaidtv.blogspot.com/ - How the french give cpr, podcasts.

Happy April Fool's day, y'all.

2006-04-01T15:13:00.000-08:00

I went to TC, again. For once, I did not actually enjoy myself here. I went for a friend's birthday thingy, but it was not really fun. There were too many people I didn't know, and too few of them that I found interesting.

I did have a certain amount to drink though, and there were some pretty girls, but that's not what this post is about.

For the record, by 1.oo am, i'd drunk about 4 vodkas, and a beer. Then, the birthday boy decided he wanted to leave. Always a bad idea, cos the best music starts at 1, when the DJ is done with the neo-rock things. I wanted to go home, cos i live down the road from TC, but the Birthday boy didn't let me. ``We have to go to last chance, in Gurgaon, and you're coming.'' So i went. I had So driving in the car with me... 2 minutes into the drive, she wanted to be dropped home, so i dropped her home, then i was driving alone to gurgaon, slightly drunk.

*** This is where the zen part of the story begins ***

I though I would drive badly, but I really wasnt. I was driving really well. I was shifting perfectly, always at the same RPMs, (even though i don't have a tachometre, i knew), I was dropping a gear at just the right moment before every turn. I was hitting the turns exactly at the apex, and powering out really well. At a few points, i could feel the rear wheel drive slide out just that little bit, and then find traction again. I saw the police barricades (you know, to stop speeding drunk drivers) and went past them at the perfect angle, so i didn't have to turn at all.

And i wasn't unsafe, I saw red lights, traffic intersections, breaks in the median, all coming, and slowed down the safe amount for them all.

Halfway through the drive, i realised i was going to blog about this. And i've been thinking about what to say since then.

The stereo was playing, but i wasn't hearing it. I was just driving. I know that just 3 songs played the whole way, the last was a live version of `Black Magic Woman'.

Just as i was about the enter gurgaon, i had one of those moments of clarity. I used to have them all the time as a mountain biker zipping down the side of a rocky hill, but this is the first time I've had one driving. I knew i was driving well. I knew i wasn't high anymore. I knew i should be home. ``What,'' I thought, ``am I doing?'' ``Why am going to a place i know i will not like to meet people i have already not liked? I think I began thinking too much, though, cos my moment of clarity went away, and I thought, sheesh, i'm here, in gurgaon, already.

***Zen part ends here, only to continue later***
Then I went to this place, which is on the top floor of a mall. As soon as I entered (i had to pay, more than my haircut), in my leftover-zen state, the first thing I realised, was that everyone at this place was incredibly ugly. (no offence to all the people there, but you all were, except me) The music was bad. The people were pushy. (no excuse me, smile, hello, just push, leave sweat on other person). I bought a drink for Rs. 300. I didn't drink it. I didn't want to, because I wanted to do the zen drive again. I left the drink, gave my leftover coupons to the birthday boy, and left.

As I walked to the parking lot, i knew i wouldnt drive like that again. I knew that was a once in a lifetime drive. It couldn't, nay - shouldn't- happen again.

***Zen part 2 starts here ***

But I was wrong.

This time, I drove back, doing the same things i did earlier. Except, this time, I did them out of instinct. I didn't have to look for the line at the turn, I just found it. I was constantly at 120 (which is a fair amount for a top-heavy 4X4), but at the corners, i was suddenly at 70. It was perfect. I felt like one with the universe. If i were driving to Jaipur, i'd be enlightened by now.

***Zen part 2 ends here***

Also in today's bulletin.
# I think i will drink less. Its part of my new fitness thing, even though i've never been a big-time drinker.
# A chick at TC asked me, ``If a person who loves bikes is a biker, whats a person who loves cars?'' (in my head, i'm still a biker, by the way)
# I have 2 days off. But my moms coming in for a sudden business trip, so i'm going to have to clean the house, get rid of the alcohol and my flat-mate's condoms.

-4

Deltoids, Biceps and forceps.

2006-03-30T10:17:00.000-08:00

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'.

My new haircut.

2006-03-24T02:40:00.000-08:00

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.

And now, the weekend is over / my tag

2006-03-20T00:17:00.000-08:00

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)

the weekend approaches.

2006-03-16T21:51:00.000-08:00

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

Your Japanese Name Is...

Shigekazu Matsumoto

What's" your Japanese Name?

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

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

What's" Your Sexy Brazilian Name?

-----

Hai, matsumoto sensei

tagged. Like a non-flu-chicken.

2006-03-14T11:37:00.000-08:00

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

I'm back again.

2006-03-10T20:49:00.000-08:00

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.

-4

i'm back.

2006-02-25T01:28:00.000-08:00

Like a drunk jerry maguire. I'd rather be a stainless-steel-handed arnie, but he says, ``I'll be back.''

I havn't been posting cos i've been working. Travelling also. And busy with other things that make life busy. I was so much happier being a kid, climbing up trees, and hiding stolen copies of Hustler there.

I'm a littel freaked out. Cos someone claims to know who I am. I think they're wrong, but still, slightly freaked. Maybe i'll go into exile, and deny this whole thing. My stig-ness is slippiung away. You know what BBC did to the white-stig, right? they made him drive his car of the launch end of a Aircraft carrier .. INTO THE SEA.

Well, anyway, here's a woman story.

I went out with some buddies, and some of their buddies from Chandigarh. One of them was a hefty chandigarh chick... not fat, just, hefty. So anyway, i went to So's place, with a bottle of Bacardi. We wanted to drink it, and I asked for mine neat. ``Hah, drink like a man,'' I said.

Well, anyway, then someone got beer, and i was looking for a bottle opener... this chandigarh girl just takes the bottle from me, and pops it in the mouth, and POP, its open. I can't do that. She's more of a man than i am. So now i'm scared of her. anyway, her ex joins us, he's a big punjabi guy too. And I, am not a big punjabi guy.

Later, we go to TC, and we're drinking... she wants to pee, and she says, ``hey gimme company,''
I said, ``eh? I can't pee with you, they dont allow that here,''
She : ``ha ha ha ... i mean, walk me to the loo,''
If you've been to tc, the loo is not far. And its n ot dangerous cos those two big bouncer guys (who one told me to take creatine supplements) stand right outside it.

But i walked her... and there was this MIND BLOWING hot woman waiting outside the loo... so i waited and said, ''hello''.
And MindBlowinglyHOt said ``hello''.
and we made some inane conversation with the bigstronggirl not in it.
Anyway, so this hot woman's boyfreind joins her in the wait. ... and my friend says, ``oh you'll are together... so are we'' and she takes my hands (i'm standing behind her), and wraps them around her tummy... and i can feel her tires, like they'd do good on a TATA 407.

I tried saying ``No no ... we're just friends'' but it did n't work.. anyway the hot chicky's bf was getting all feely too.

Anyway, so, the last straw was when this wierd ass girl, tiny, like, really tiny, waled out and said to my friend
'' Oh your boyfriend is still waiting for you... so sweet''. My friend said, ``yeh, he's sweet, i like him''

So i thought : Hmm ... big girl, more manly than me, i'm not attracted.
And i thought : hmm ... big ex, also more manly than me, i'm scared.
So i said, ``fuck it'' again, and walked off.

And i spent the rest of the week working. It's the month end, and i'm poor.

-4

Come one come all to the lucky dip stall.

2006-02-11T01:11:00.000-08:00

That's the stall I always avoided at the fete when i was a kid.

I like fishing-the-bottle... i always won.

So, here's a litte contest :)

All you have to do is answer one single question. Winner will get a free dinner for one, with me :) (conditions apply. See below)

--------the question--------

In the hit Hindi Language Film, Rang De Basanti, on what day of the week do a group of young nd not-so-young friend take over the All India Radio building?

---

If you havn't seen the movie, fear not. Here's another question (stolen of course, unlike the above one, which is original)

How do you make Donuts?

---------- ta daa----------

(Dinner for one award is only applicable to lady applicants. Gentleman applicants can feel happy that they have watched the damn move more than once and/or know about donuts. If the concerned lady applicant has a female lover, the award will be compounded to dinner for two with me without hesitation.)

Feb is a short month.

2006-02-11T01:01:00.000-08:00

And most of mine has been quite anal:)

If anyone missed me, my internet stopped working at home. And I can't post from work. There's always people looking over my shoulder, trying to peek in on my mail (interns) or see what i'm filing (boss) or just curious (everyone else).

I've been ill. I havn't gone out anywhere at all. Lust hanging out around at home.

I read War For News... and i cant get it. I mean, ok, a lot of it is accurate... but how in hell's name, do these people get the damn time to post so much???? Don't they work? It must be hard for them to post from work too. Unless they're all on the desk, and free most of the time.

I want to go out tonight, but i probably shouldn't. I should sit and home and watch a shitty movie like along came polly or something.

Im sleepy, but i have to work. Why can't i be more like warfornews people and not have to?

Its saturday again :)

2006-01-27T23:03:00.000-08:00

I saw Rang De Basanti. Very nice movie. Makes you think. Really, at some point in my life I was all, ``balls, i'm not gonna let him break the queue.'' But eventually, you give in and say, ``what the hell, its just one person, how many can you stop, and he so much bigger than me anyway.'' So I think i'm a little more inspired now. It would have liked the movie a lot more if Aamir Khan didn't make me and 200 other people who paid for the 10.30 show wait till 11.00. And none of them complained. Well, i didn't either, but i went across to tgifs and had a vodka.

I'd say more about the movie, but that would be a spoiler, and not much fun. So I won't.

Its been an interesting week. I went to TC midweek, where I got a little buzzed, and danced with some random woman. She said her name was `Mistree'. I didn't believe her, but i didn't argue cos of all the Vodka. (I love the russians)

I think I will just stay home today. My bad tummy is, well, bad. I think i'll sleep. and wake up tomorrow and go for a run. If i were in Bombay, i'd go to Priyadarshini Park and run. But this is not bombay.

Fun Friday

2006-01-20T22:15:00.000-08:00

Thats a teeny tiny alliteration. Fun Friday.

So anyway, i've figured out my problem with getting hooked up : Women.
Well, not women as such, but that I dont know any. Well, i do, a lot, but not in this city. I've been here, for what ... two years now, but the whole time i've been with my ex. I havn't really met any new girls. So there. Now i have to find a solution to that problem.

So last night, i decided to bond with another guy. I called Z, who used to be a classmate, and now organises concerts for a lot of money.

Its funny, him and I were never really best friends, but this time he just talked for hours. Like about why he broke up with his ex, and the girl that caused it. Of course it was all manly talk, not girly girly. So it was peppered with expletives, car talk and money talk.
``So how come you guys broke up? you were going pretty strong,'' he said.
So i found myself in a place where i had to talk. I mean, he'd told me all. He'd broken the secret-barried (you know, men don't tell sad stories to other men unless they're really good friends).
So anyway i told. Not in full detail, though ... i guess i wasn't as ready as him.

Anyway, after that , i decided we needed to go offroading. So we drove around Sanjay-Van, looking for an entry. Eventually, we found one, and at 2 am, entered.... it was a slight climb, and at some points, i needed to switch to FourWheel.
After some blind reversing, some paint scratching, and some accidental hitting of the wipers, we were fairly into the forest.

I felt all man. I felt adventurous. I felt cool. I felt , er, a little scared.

``Dude, what if there are cops inside?'' Apparently, he was a little scared too.
Other than the cops, it was all dark, and you know...
Anyway, after driving for a while I said, ``Dude, you know we won't be able to reverse if we go in any deeper,'' I said. But since we were both men, and had to be brave, we kept going.
``Hey, i know where this road goes,'' he says, ``to the dirty nallah.''
oh.
``In fact, i think i can smell it now... man it reeks'' he says. So i stuck my nose out of the window and smelt. Nothing.
``Yeh man, i smell it too,'' i say. ``Yuck. Lets get out of here,'' Once i said that, i actually could smell it. I;ll never know if it was actually there, or my mind invented it to give me good reason to leave.

But i would like to go do that in the day. When its not dark.

whazzup ma nigga!!

2006-01-15T14:51:00.000-08:00

I just realised, i'm part nigger. My uncle's wife's sister's married to a big black man. And they have a little kid too, who looks full black cos my uncle's wife's sister's a mallu, and most of them look like thin black people anyway.

So cool, is that not? Ok, so i may not have nigger blood, but at least i have some nigger sprit. I'm sure if i actually meet the addition to the family, i'll gain some more sprit.

So all you black people out there, welcome me to the hood.

Ladies : You know what they say about us niggers!!!!

Saturday night, daaance, I like the way you move...

2006-01-15T00:38:00.000-08:00

What is it about days like New years day? Or every week, saturday day. Its strange, when I wasn't so single, I could do the same thing I did last night, and it wouldn't bother me at all. Same thing = nothing.

If I went to a club, that was good. If i went to a Priya-Village Roadshow theater and watched Shaadi No. 1 that was good. If I sat at home and drank wine with friends, that was good. If me and my girlfriend just chatted, that was good. Even if she was away and i sat all alone at home, downloading porn and playing NFS Most Wanted in turns, i still was ok.

so yesterday i thought, `hmm saturday night, the new year party hangover is still there, so lets do something.' Of course with work people, you can't party a whole lot, cos they don't wanna. So i thought, ok, maybe old college buds. Called. they were working. I can't go anyhwhere alone. Some people do. They're just wierd. So i went to a nice, vegetarian dinner, with friends that were dressed in trackies and sweatshirts. Yay.

I read somewhere that women are most depressed on new years day, christmas and valentines. I think christmas doesn't so much apply to apna heathen Indian women, but the other two, possibly. What about men, though?

Ok, i dont get depressed much. I just look at naked women on the net, and imagine i'm actually driving to fast-ass cars. But it can't be very good for single men either no?

I think valentines day is coming up. This will be my first single valentine in some five years.

--
oh , and as an aside, I was watching CNN-IBN yesterday, and there was a brilliant something on female infanticide and foeticide. Old story that was broken by the papers a week or so ago, but i think I saw this person doing a very long report. Very nice. And, this reporter if veddy veddy hot.

She doesn't have a comment thingy on her blog, but if i'm ever in her town, or she in mine (well, its not mine, but i live here) I should like have a drink with her.

Wimmen Lessons.

2006-01-08T10:59:00.000-08:00

Maxim has a piece called '100 things you need to know about women.' Its actually enough fuel for some 50 blogs. Some are pointless like ``she's gonna outlive you'' or ``let her win arguments''.

Some are good. Like, ``Most wimen will not have sex for the first time with a guy unless their legs are waxed. If your date shows up and you spot hairs, she's trying to keep her self in line''.

My topic for today, though is. no 67: Kiss her before two dates have gone by or you'll be `friended'.

f.r.i.e.n.d.e.d

hmm. that, my friends, is a very scary word.

It's a phenomenon that you can't get past easily.

If you're friends, then life gets complicated.

If you're just two people, and you make a move on her, then there's two choices. Either she gets made a move on, or she says, ``what the hell are you doing'' or ``er, i think we need to slow down'' or ``I'm sorry, i'm married''.

If you're already friends, then it's like the mozzarella cheese on a pizza (not pizza hut, i think they use cheddar). You know, all sticky, and gooey.

The problem with me is, I have to be slightly buzzed to come on strong enough. And then it doesn't work, cos i probably wont know the girl at all :)

If i go to coffee with her, i just talk, well, nice things.

Damn, i have a problem.

Fiesta, anyone? its got 3 exciting options!

2006-01-08T10:41:00.000-08:00

I bought a copy of the Indian edition of Maxim. Much more toned down, i tell ya. But i'm not gonna pay 450 rupayas for the furren one.

So, they list cars of the year (with pics and specs) as the ferrari f430, Bentley GT convertible, Porche Cayman S, Jag S type, Aston's DS (so hot), H3 (so passe), Impreza (here i come WRC). Bang in the cente is Abhishek Bacchan with `Ford Fiesta' tattood on his arm. Eh? What did they think? Random men are going to go through all those dream cars and say, ``oh well, I'll just take the 101 bhp fiesta, which stops pulling in third gear''?

Kanta's Feni.

2006-01-04T03:04:00.000-08:00

So i spent New Years on a little, secret beach in goa. There were a lot of people, but not enough to disqualify the 'secret' tag.It was mostly a get back-back-with-old-buddies-new-year. There were some drunken women, but this post is not about that.

It's about Feni.

The national drink of goa, as you may all know. What's funny is that few of the locals I met seem to like it. Strange, because it's good stuff.
There are two kinds of Feni. `Branded' stuff, that comes in packaged bottles, with names like 'Big Boss', `Beach Bonanza' and `Mogambo'. Ok, the last two i made up, but Big Boss is famous. The bottles are made of plastic, and that is what seperates the men from the boys.We men drink `Local Feni'. It comes in glass bottles, and they have labels like, Royal Challenge, Real Whisky and Vat 69. What i mean is, its packed in old bottles by the local seller.

So, me and Horseyboy spent an hour looking for one such famous retailer. Near Baga Beach, while other, lesser men, were siping vodka or whiskey or some such lesser drink, we found this man.Kanta.

He was lean and wiry, and you could tell that in his day, he'd lifted his share of weights and beaten up random white people.

Well, anyway, we chatted with him and his drunk customers in the little country bar.

Us : ``What percent alcohol does Feni have?''
Kanta ``Very High degree. Ay patrao, what degree? "(to a drunk)
Old man, with broken teeth, as he gets his glass filled with a 200 ml shot of the stuff : ``180 degree''
Kanta : ``Pheh. Whatchasayin men? Nai nai... yeh 20 degree hai.''

When we asked him what was the difference between the local stuff and the properly bottles stuff, he poured some on a table, and lit it. Bright blue flame.

Anyway. we drank. A lot.

Happy new year all. Hic.

The games men play.

2005-12-26T22:45:00.000-08:00

No, i'm not talking about mind games. In fact, I mostly lose in those.

But i'm home, and went for a drive with HorseyBoy.

We drove around, talked about women for a moment, then talked about cars for many moments. We bought some channya-munnya. I don't know what they're called in English, or any other language. But they're small, dark red, slightly sour berries. THey're all skin and seed, with a little bit of gloppy goo inside that tastes nice.

So you have to eat 10 before it tastes of anything.

So we were driving down in his Baleno (well, his dad's, but it's a great car) on the hinghway. This highway cuts through the city, so we're just driving home, nowhere special.
We're eating the channya-munnyas, and have the seeds collected in our mouths. I say, ``heh heh ... dude lets see if you can hit that cyclist!''
Horsey: ``No man, that's mean.''Me : ``Ok, hit the motorcyclist.''Horsey : Spit*miss* spit*miss. ``Er, i'll hit the cyclists. They're easier targets. We never hit anyway.''
I'm on the passenger side, so i hit oncoming cars. 1 point for a maruti 800, 5 for a lancer and 10 for a merc. I score 25 when I manage to get one straight into the cabin of an Ashok Leyland.
Horsey gets just one cyclist. Its a small seed, so it doesn't hurt him, but he just turns back to look. Don't know why, but we laugh like hyenas when this happens, and horsey almost drives into the back of a corvette. Ok, not corvette, but old 800. (you know the original japanese engine ones? Lower than the new ones? Yummy to drive? the first jap cars in India?)
Then we get bold, slow down, spit out at people, and zip away, hella lights leading.

The key to spitting well, is that the force must come from the bottom of your gut, not your mouth. {Place seed between pursed lips, breathe deep, expand stomach, wth a sharp contract of the diaphragm, expell air. Don't forget to aim.
Later, we sat down and talked. its funny, i've known this guy for 22 of my 24 years. We talk about everything. But whenever we come to women, the conversation is always the same.
Him : "So gangsta, whast up with that babe?" THe `babe' in question would be one i've been in love with for the past 2 years or so. And he dosn't say `gangsta' in normal conversaition in real life.Me : We broke up man.Him : No way! WHy? Me : Ahh. Him : oh you know who's hot? That babe that used to be in your college. Me : screw her. Are you still getting it on with RomeGirl? Dude you have a girlfriend. Him : hah hah. You made out with her when you had one. Me : You wanna play NFS2? I'll get the PS2.Him: Yeh, or we could go to the go-kart track.

The point is, we never ever really talk about women. We don't need to, I guess. Men usually don't, well, the men i know.

Except one guy that came up to me and said, ``if you ever want to talk, i'm here''. What guy says that?

Anyway, new years is coming up. Yay. Drunken women.

women, i tell ya.

2005-12-22T10:46:00.000-08:00

So i went out with my buds. And we did the ``blocking race'' on the way back. `Blocking race' may sound like a stupid name, but thats just cos i just made it up. Here's how it works. It needs 2 men, in 2 cars. Usually it just sponateously breaks out. Needs to starting grid.

It happens when one car gets in front of the other. The other will try to get in front, but the car in front won't let him. So the car behind tries his best to get in front. Its more challenging if the car in front is faster than the one behind. It eventually ends with a battle of nerves, when the back-car powers through a little space, almost touching the front-car. Whoever chickens out first, loses. The winners gets to stick his finger out and yell ``woooohoooo girly boy''.

This time, i was in DaBussinessman's qualis, and Monk was in the esteem. I was behind. But i won when overtook from the wrong side of an 18-wheeler, missing the wall by an inch, when Monk thought I would chicken out.

What's with happy endings?

2005-12-20T10:47:00.000-08:00

I went to see `Bluffmaster'. Good. Very watchable. And as much as I hate to admit it, the junior bacchan looks decent. And acts decent too.

I thought about her (see my last post) a fair amount through the movie.

Yea, she was cute (especially when she decided it was hot, and took her sweater off). But that wasnt why i thought of her all.

Imagine knowing someone, and not knowing anything about that person, except that his, or her, mother is just about to die...

I mean, i don't even know her last name.

as an aside : If you watch bluffmaster, don't miss roy's the cool car. Looks like a mustang. What I wouldn't do for a car like that. I'd even agree to not shoot priyanka chopra in the knee with an airgun everytime she said anything. (she's hot and all, but a bit pf a piss off)

Mile High

2005-12-20T05:32:00.000-08:00

Ever since I remember going somewhere by aeroplane, or train even, it has always been a dream to get a seat next to a hot woman.

The last time that happened was, umm, when i was was 8 I think. My mum, my sis and I were travelling somewhere in a train, and there was some problem with our tickets. Anyway, two really cute women offered to share their coupe with my sis and me. They gave us two chints one berth, and the two off them, all growed up and all, took the other. Looking back, it was a lot hotter than i knew it was then.

Well, today I flew Air Deccan. Shitey airline. The airhostesses look all frumpypoo in their blue and yellow... things (i dont know what those frick dresses are called!)

Anyway, the check-in queue was really long. They said computer problem, i thought it was just ineptitude. Anyway, two queues away, i saw this really pretty girl. She was with someone. She was wearing this tikka on her forehead. She was dressed really well too. Thin, tallish, just my type.

Anyway, so I looked at her. I dont know if she looked back, i wasn't wearing my lenses. But i thought she did.

As luck would have it, both of us checked in at the same time.

Now, there's another queue for security check. This damn airline has so many queues, i just love them.

So, she was right behind me in the queue. I didn't know if she was going the same place as me, so I just looked pretty. Didn't try anything.

As luck would have it again, the chaos at the check-in counters meant free seating. So I engineered it so i got the seat right next to hers.

Anyway, we chatted. She was sweet. Except i dont think she could hear me very well, and everytime i made the right joke to make, she said, ``what's that?'' Never ``excuse me,'' or ``i didn't get that''. Just ``what's that?''

Anyway we chatted some more. She shared her water with me (this is AirDeccan, you have to BUY it). She's a student here, but lives in Delhi. She said she missed the first 20 days of college, and had to go back for ``some issues at home''.

We chatted some more. The dude in the leather jacked next to me was wishing he'd got the good seat (i.e. the middle.. heh) The dude in front of me with the blue monte-carlo sweater was chatting with this new mom (not hot by a long shot) about her travels.

She asked me about reporting. Asked me about covering the bomb-blasts.

Eventually she told me that she had to go back home for her mother. WHen she went home, she just went cos her sis's were down. Her mom had gall stones. But a few days before she arrived, her mom was diagnosed with cancer, in it's final stages. ``Every day that we spend with her is a bonus. The doctors told us she had only a few days to live'' she said. And she had tears in her eyes.

I felt so helpless. I wished i could do something. But i could just listen. I guess she needed to talk.

She had wanted to stay, but her mom wanted her to get back to college.

After telling me, she said, ``That felt a lot better''

We didn't get each others name till we'd both walked out of the airport.

I wonder what'll happen. I have her number, and i will call her, but i dont know if i can hit on her. I don't know if her mom will be alive when i call her. I know she has to go. I wonder how she'll deal with it.

As an aside, I forgot to x-ray my bag, and held up the whole flight.

-4wd

It was Beauty killed the Beast...

2005-12-16T14:29:00.000-08:00

I saw king kong.

This, of course, is Jessica Lange, from the old one. Not the new babe. The Special Effects are mind blowing in this one. Better than LOTR. But Ms. Lange is hotter. And, believe it or not, she shows more skin than the 2005 version.

But really, i can see why these hotties like Kong so much. I mean, tall (25 feet, at last measure), dark, could pass for hand some, and has a really big ........... nose. Ok not nose.

Funny. King Kong's King Dong.

Really. Go watch the movie. Make Peter Jackson richer, he deserves it.

As an aside, you know what I really dont like? Holding hands with girls during movies. It should be ok in a film that you don't really want to watch, like any romantic film. It should be ok in comedies too, cos then you're laughing and dont care.

But action movies. No. Thats just distracting. I mean, women tend to squeeze your hand at the exact moment when your mind is supposed to `whoa'. Instead, you just go `wh-frickin-ouch'. You have to look away from the amazing fight between Kong and the 3 t-rexs (godzilla:). You can't appreciate the subtlety of kong's pile-driver if you have to keep shaking her hand off.

2005-12-14T09:59:00.000-08:00

So, i'm watching Sidhu on NDTV right now. There's some pretty stupid things going on.

Like :

Lady on phone: ``I am sixty-five, following cricket since ...''
Sidhu. ``You look twenty-five, madam, from your voice.''

eh?

``Man has his will, woman has her way,'' (to sonali)
``I see the world, no the selectors , as a fruitcake... it wont be complete without a few nuts. They're going nuts''. (er, the point?)
``This has happened from Times immemorial''. (times is a paper)
``I would rather have a pumpkin, all to myself, and sit on it, than sit on a crowded sofa.''

But thats not all... there's also this girl (off the streets of cal) who says, ``As a bengali, I dont support this decision. I am very upset,'' (all with a broad smile)

Cricket, i tell ya. Why can't more people be into more participatory sports. Like roller-blading.

I'm a confidante!

2005-12-12T10:35:00.000-08:00

So this is a post about a boy.
No i'm not in love with him. I didn't ask him out. Cos i don't do that. I'm into women. Not against being into men, thats ok, just that i'm not into it. Like some guys (mostly punjabi guys) like their women ``healthy''. Not me, thank you, I like them skinny.

Anyway, so this kid, lets call him, `Kid'. He's 18, but a lot heavier than me.

Anyway, Kid has been working on a story for a month now. It'll make a good writer's piece, but no big deal.

Anyway, a few days ago he came and asked me advice on some debate. Er... he doesn't even know me. And to top it all off, he interns here, but he doesn't read the paper.

So anyway, he keeps asking me for advice on the story, and i always say, ``get the story over with, and move on''.

So today he comes up, and says, ``Can you give me advice on my career?''
Me : ``Advice? uh. what sort?''
Kid: ``When did you start working?''
Me: ``Er, just now???''
Kid:``How do i proceed in my career?'' (like i'm frigin bejan daruwala)
Me: ``I dunno dude. You should just graduate first''
Kid: ``Thank you... thank you for the advice... i feel like i can trust you.''

info about me : I had no idea what i wanted to do till I did it. Now i know i want to do journalism, but i'm not sure i want to do exactly what i'm doing... i wanna do something different.

(at a later stage in the conversation) Kid : ``Can i intern here, and submit articles to another paper?''
Me: ``Eh? what's wrong with you? thats wrong. You'll get thrown out. Its totally unethical''
Kid: ``oh. I didn't know. I've never been able to talk about these things to anyone. I considered talking to *metro editor*.'' (jeez)
Me: ``Havn't you ever worked anywhere? like a summer job or something?
Kid: ``No. We don't have that culture in Kanpur.''
eh?

still later, after he bitches to me about my roomie, he says,

Kid: I need someone I can trust. I think that someone is you. I love you. (ok, the last bit i put in, but i swear he was thinking it.)

So i said, ``Dude, dont trust me. Don't accept any of my advice. I can't take responsibility for your life!!!''
Kid : ``Yes of course. You're so honest."

Why can't women like me this much?

Rejection.

2005-12-08T11:48:00.000-08:00

So, after a premature rejection, I've figured out why men are scared of women. Well, its not an original theory at all, i've just figured it out.

Men are afraid of rejection. Cos it hurts the ego.

There that is my theory. Ok, its not big, but its ok.
So i figure, if you get rejected enough times, you'll get used to it and not care. Like learning to ride a bike. You fall off. you learn. actually that doesnt really explain it.

Ok, like racing bikes. You race them, and when you fall the first time, you realise, ok, it didn't kill me, so its ok.... so you go do it again... of course if it kills you, you don't go do it again. That would be stupid.

Tucker Max says you shouldn't care ``if the girl is going home with you''. According to him, if you don't care, not pretend to not care, it works better. Don't ask me why... Don't ask me why i read him even.. i dont want to be like him... he's just funny.

ok, so the last bit was pointless.

No women. Just stupid.

2005-12-05T08:19:00.000-08:00

Hello world.

Not a nice day. So many decisions. I mean, why can't life just go they way you plan... why do you have to work so hard to get the bloomin plan to work? Compromise with this one, beg with that one, cajole with a third, steamroll no. 4. Jeez.

Anyway. Today (well, technically, late late last night), i did something stupid :)
Online. Now that's a first.

but you can read all about it here.

It takes a stpid man to be stupid. But it takes a brave man to go and tell everyone he was stupid, and then show them all evidence so they never forget.
But its ok. I'm anonymous, and I don't care what you all think of me, so here.

And the sad part about it all is, i actually had something really good to say to the guy. Good as in, bad for him. But now its lost.

Its like when you get into an argument with someone, and you come home, and then the killer come-back comes to you? I feel like that now.

aargh.

why men like games like NFS MW

2005-11-30T23:08:00.000-08:00

NFS MW is Need for speed - most wanted. And here's my take on why men like games like this. I'm talking about big boys. You know, with jobs and lives... not little kiddie widdies. Which is probably i will never play `ragnarok'. Someone said (in press talk, which is K's blog, who is the someone in question) that games like ragnarok are the next big thing. Here's why i think that those are for boy-boys, and not man-boys (like me :P). We play games with speed, fire, and of course women. So i play NFS, Doom, Max Payne, (love duke nukem) (even loved death rally) and of course Grand Theft Auto. Which is why you now see Prime time tv ads for NFS MW and DOOM :) (and not ragnarok. My 9 year old bro plays that. And beyblade..)

So, without further ado. Why i like this game :

1) Mia is your girlfriend. Played by Josie Maran. Ooh.
2) You don't have to say a word throughout the game. Razor calls you a girly-boy, cross runs his keys across the door of your BMW, and you just sit quiet. And mia still wants to hook up with you. Screw intelligent (or any) conversation.
3) Mia drives really well. She races with you. She's not like most girls, so she won't say ``slow down'' or think that if she yells loud enough, the brake will automatically activate.
4) Mia , always, wears very little.
5) Other than mia, you can own all sorts of cars, from Mazdas to Gallardos, and yes even the Ford GT40. The little ford that could take on a ferrari.
6) You can drive like a nutcase, and win. Screw race lines.
7) You can do fishtail manouvres on cops. And it works. Like in world's wildest police videos.
8) You can take your Mustang (or Audi Quattro) STRAIGHT into a wall, at 150 MILES per hour, and only windscreen smashes. And by the next race, its ok.
9) Your Nitrous Oxide recharges as you drive.
10) You have nitrous oxide.
11) You always win.
12) You have Mia. (well, i have her for now, i havn't finished the game).

here's a post

2005-11-29T10:44:00.000-08:00

You know, its fun to not recognise someone, especially a girl. you know, she comes up to you and says, hello, and you say, hi, and she says, ``er... don't you remember me? i'm so-and-so".

and you say ``no''.

good fun, in a strange, perverse way.

I went on an assignment that i could actually write oodles about. But then my secret identity wouldn't be secret anymore. And its serious stuff, so its not in character with this blog.

Why dylan. Why not, i say?

PR Women.

2005-11-27T05:07:00.000-08:00

There is a massive difference between the PR people that government departments employ, and that private firms employ. Of course, thats a no brainer. But in government agencies, you almost can't tell the difference between the men and women PR people. Except in one hospital, where the PR lady looks and acts like cruella DeVille. Except her hair is all black. (if she had the CM's hair, she'd look exactly like cruella)

Anyway, the PR girls at private firms are good fun. If you're bored of the funny man at the press con, you can chat them up. Except they won't chat when the funny man is talking. And they like you more if you have a tv crew :)

Thats one reason I envy the girls that work at features (well, its mostly girls, i know very few men who do. Except one who used to, and is now a top crime reporter). I mean, what's the point of it? They get to meet all the cute PR girls. And all the PR men are funny looking loons. well, most i've met (but to be fair, i've met very few).

Anyway, i met this nice looking pr lady. (there is a reason i call her a lady, and not a girl). I flirted with her a bit, threw a bit of spiel about how us city reporting guys are more comfortable in the street, doing the dirty work. Anyway, i smsed her a few times to get some info, then i asked her to coffee/drinks.

She said, ``sure, my husband and I will join you''. Sheesh. I didn't know. I swear.

Anyway, I said sorry, she said, ``no really, join us sometime.'' Why would I? Thats would be so odd, a couple going out with a single guy. Ah well.

I'll go back to playing NFS.

-4

Good-bye, Mr. Miyagi

2005-11-25T22:03:00.000-08:00

Pat Morita, of Mr. Miyagisan fame, passed away.

So many of us joined karate classes because of him :)

Oyasumi nasai, mr. Miyagi.

So, they killed him.

2005-11-24T11:22:00.000-08:00

This stoy scared me.

This man was doing his job. Honestly. So many of our friends are IIM grads, or grads from other b-schools.

It could happen to any of us. As reporters, why not. I don't know what i'd do if someone threatened to kill me for a story. Would i still do it?

-4

In the furren news

2005-11-24T11:14:00.000-08:00

http://www.wastedblog.com/viewcontent.php?IdContent=2021

this is about Khushboo, virginity, and Sania. Wonder what they think of us?

-4

My furry friend.

2005-11-20T13:09:00.000-08:00

no you dirty people. Its not what you think.

A cat lives in my house. Grey. Striped. Big.

I chased him/her out, but he/she didn't care. Just sort of walked out.

I pay the rent, damn it, not the cat.

And today someone said they might have to give away their labrador pup. I wish i could take it. I dont want the cat. I want the dog.

What i'm not.

2005-11-18T13:55:00.000-08:00

Ok, Just need to clear things up.

When i started this blog, i was afraid i wouldn't ever get any comments. Its been a few days, and i have a few. They're beginning to pick up. Thank you all for stopping by, please come again.

except this person : http://docsdope.blogspot.com/

Here is what I am : I'm a normal guy. I have very very active life other than the stuff i post here. I just write about my hunt for a `no-strings-attached' girl.

Here is what I am not: I am not this guy. I am not out for a cheap f*ck. Really. I do not want to con women into sleeping with me, and then say ok ta ta.

This chappie's really dysfunctional. You have to see some of the stuff he writes about. Like this :

This brings an interesting aspect of our religion, God is ubiquitous, so that means God is in me me too and you too, which says that all of us are Gods. God fighting God, God making love to Goddess..hahahaa this is funny especially with all the vivid images that our good ol' Doordarshan has conjured up in our minds :)

oook.
or.

I love the way woman smell. When they get up in the morning after a good night sleep, when they get dressed for work wearing just deodorant, when they dress up for work wearing French perfume, when they are all sweaty after sports. Most of all, I love to smell their panties.

Ick.
Now, this is where he gets criminal.

Well, I have been recording my acts of passion with various females ....these are not to make any quick bucks but I'd like to watch them after she is gone...I have hidden cameras all over my place...till now, I have around 50 different recordings with around 11 girls...Liz was 12th of them...she came out of the loo too quicly, and I was caught red handed.. she asked me if there were any previous recordings....and when I told her, that I did have one recording of her with me..she was upset..she asked me to destroy it...I told her its my passion and I can't...and that I will not leak them anywhere and they will be safely locked in my closet...

Dude, whoever you are. Don't come back here. I can't stop you from coming, but please, dont post a reply to any of my posts. I'll just deeeeeelete :)

Bengalis :P this is actually funny.

2005-11-16T23:34:00.000-08:00

First off, why do i have to manually change the post date everytime i post. Isn't there a way to automate this?

Ok, now this is funny. If you're in the media, you know the number of journalists that are bengali. They run the damn media. Anyway something funny came in on PTI yesterday. I hope its not a crime to take it off PTI and post it here.

Here it is. (I havn't done any editing. Its just here as PTI sent it)

Army Army to chalk out blueprint to induct more bengalis?
¦Kolkata, nov 16 (PTI) why aren'T enough bengali youthscoming forward tojoin the armed forces??
¦This was a question that held the attention of WestBengal Chiefministerbuddhadev bhattacharjee and goc-in-C, Bengal area, maj gen Arun roye,longenough to envisage a blueprint for induction of more youngsters from thestate in the Army.?
¦During a tete-a-tete, the duo pondered over what wascoming in the wayofbengalis looking at the Army as an employer.?
¦"We talked about this at length. The Chief minister saidwe must chalkout aplan to create awareness among the bengali youths and encourage them tojointhe Army," maj gen roye told reporters at the state secretariat.?
¦He said the Army was ready to create awareness at theblock level togenerate interest among the masses.?
¦"We find that most bengali youngsters who come for thescreening testshavepoor health and eyesight. We also talked about how to address thisproblemso that those looking at joining the Army can come physically preparedtotake on its rigours," the maj gen said. PTI sbp pr kc 11162154 del??

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

when I was younger i wanted to drive a tank. I realy wanted to be in the army, sometimes I still want to. But luckily figured out soon enough that i'm not willing to kill people for reasons that i may not always believe in. Ah well. So i'm here posting.

Upcoming dates.

2005-11-15T13:50:00.000-08:00

So, here are a few choices.

1) there is slightly-droopy-shoulders-but-cute-rest-of-her girl. We'll just call her sdsbcroh girl. I get the feeling she's alcoholic. And she's a compulsive smoker. And kissing smokers sucks, cos they smell like ashtrays. I've gone out with her a couple of times, flirted a bit, but thats about it. And, we have an SMSy relationship. We dont call. Which is good. So, i'm thinking i'll just send her an sms saying, ``hey, when can i take you out on a proper date. Like, to dinner or a movie, and then drinks and then we can get drunk and do something stupid?'' how's that/

2) there is this other girl, who is nice. Smart. great to talk to. But she is not skinny. She's gonna be here for a couple of days soon. She's sorta broad. not fat, just, not thin. what to do?

-4

what i look for in a woman.

2005-11-15T13:17:00.000-08:00

Someone mentioned me on their blog. Yay. Here. It was a very neutral post. Nothing special, but at least i got mentioned. No raves, no rants. Just a mention. You know, like in those top 100 countdown shows on mtv. ``and at 64 is -- . No change, lets move on ot 63. '' i'm 64 on this post.

anyway, so here's what i'm doing. These are the things i like in women. Ideally. Like the perfect date.

1)ok, she has to be, well, fit. I mean, she can't really be unfit. See, this is all politically correct posting. I'm not saying fat. I'm sorry, but i am shallow. My roomie says i should let go of my skinny-obsession, and try going out with a non-skinny girl. ``Very comfortable,'' he says. But then, he is Punjabi.

2) Intelligent is good. I dont care even if she's a PhD, i can probably still probably make good conversation with her. But not if she thinks carrying on a conversation about some vague books, which i probably have not read, makes her smart. Really, its amazing how many people equate having read a lot of books with being smart, intelligent, perceptive and all that jazz. Yeh, i read a fair amount too, but its not everything, you know.

3) She should wear a thong :)

4) Women sitting across the table from me, talking about their ex's. Complete turn of. I mean, if they said, ``ooh he had a really small beanstalk'' i would be happy. But do not go on an on about how you loved him so, and how you were so stupid and kept going back for seconds, or how you were with him for so long, or how happy you were, or what a nice guy he was, or how he was so spontaneous, or anything!!! Just say, ``oh i havn't met him in a while.''

5) When I'm driving, i hate it when women say, ``slow down''. What i hate even more more is when women say, `` you should change the gear now.'' Why? I know when to change the gear, and she probably doesn't know what the difference between RpM and Revs are!

6) A little bit slutty, just a little, is good :)

7) offer to pay. Let me pay the first time, but offer to pay. And the second time, pay.

ok, thats all i can think of for now. If i think of more, that will be another post. More post-karma.

-4wd

this is some funny shites

2005-11-14T11:45:00.000-08:00

so.. i was looking at some blogs, you know, so I might actually get some people to read me. I chanced upon some really hilarious gooby. I'll just link you to the post. When you read it, it may be possible that you read it with a ``i'm into reading about peoples funny dreams cos its so deep mode'', but really, read it in funny mode. its really funny... hee hee

http://pareshaan.blogspot.com/2005/11/on-dreams.html

sorry mr. pareshaan. Its funny.

now the sad part, for me, is that this dude has more readers than me.

Ha ha... this is crazy.

2005-11-13T10:52:00.000-08:00

Can you even believe this??? I'll bet they never made friggin movie like this!!!

One thousand Maoists stormed a jail in Jehanabad Jail in bihar, and 398 prisoners were freed. 9 people i think died, including a ranvir sena chief.

On tv i saw that some of the escaped guys came back. Why? ha ha... thats actually funny. A bunch of rebels came and busted them out for free, these guys run out, while jail authorities get shot. After a while, they get an attack of consience? I can't understand why they'd come back.

http://www.voanews.com/english/2005-11-14-voa25.cfm
CNN

on another note. I'm beginning to wonder if anyone ever reads what i write. I just checked some stats, and 57.5& of my less than 70 total visitors stayed for less than 5 seconds.

crappity

What do women really want?

2005-11-13T10:38:00.000-08:00

Well, anyway, i went out last night. With a girl. yeh, i know, thats sorta obvious, but not really, cos i dont have enough posts for ye all to know for sure.

well, anyway, she wanted to talk about books and all. I think i've read a wee bit more than her, but she wanted to be all intellectually and all.

Schmuckity Shmoo.

Why can't women just chat like guys? you know, we talk about cars. Or bikes. or women.

Is it just women that want to talk about books and all, or are there men like that too? i dont know any of those kind of guys. All my buddies back home talk about motorised. and women. but we dont really discuss like, all the emotional stuff.

e.g. here's what a conversation between me and my child-hood buddy (we rode our bicycles over graveyards as kiddies) would sound like, if we were talking about women. We'll call him Klaus.

4- Hey rockstar. What's up?
Klaus - nothing bugger. Just spoke to my baby back in *foriegn country*. waiting for my visa to come thru.
4- oh. How's that going?
kl- pretty cool. She's earning a lot. And has cute roomies.
4- yeh? Don't flirt with them. you'll get in shit.
kl - hey whats up with Squeamy? (squeamy is a made up name. but we both made out with her, at different times, not together.)
4- nothing man. i dont wanna talk to her. can i tell her you told me told me about you guys, so i have a reason to talk.
kl - no bi*ch. Then she won't make out with me.
4 - why the fug would you wanna make out with her?
kl - My baby will never find out.
4 - but... squeamy is... hairy. (now, that's not a nickname. She really is. When i made out with her, we were drunk. This frick's not.)
kl- heh heh. so how's your car? How's the air filter?
4 - great for bhp man.
kl - yeh man. women dig speed man.

so that is a deep, meaningful conversation for us. If i had to have that conversation with a girl best friend type, i'd have to talk how how i were feeling about my break up and all that. Thoug i like doing that. especially with *song*, who might come live me me for a bit. And i will never ever wanna make out with her, not cos she's not cute, cos she is, but cos she;s just such a great buddy. Sometime's she's almost a guy :)

anyway. so that. rambling. is anyone reading this shit??

4

Dissappointment 1

2005-11-11T11:54:00.000-08:00

So, i'm sad.

I started out thinking, ``ok, today, i'm going to be a babe magnet. Every babe I talk to is going to get that vibe from me.''

I think, at least, i got that part right.

So, i started the day late, like 3. When you're a print journo, you can do that sometimes. So i went, drove my sexy beast to the Central Secretariat Metro Station. I felt cool. I felt like `the man'. (you know, the one with the plan?) So i screeched into the parking lot, and the attendant saluted me. heh heh. The man is in town. The lot is mud, so i did little burnouts, which would eventually had led to donuts, had there been enough space, and no cops around.

Then i thought, ``hmm, Metro Station. Always has cute women. Today i'm confident. I think i'm gonna chat me up one. first step to hooking up.''

So i bought my token (no, not ticket, token). The CISF guy frisked me, really hard, and i thought he lingered a little longer than he should have where he shouldn't have. They checked my bag. then i went in. I sat in the train.

LOTS of women. NONE of them were cute. One was really funny, with fat in the wrong places, and seemed to smile oddly, at some guy who didn't look like he was looking at her.

Anyway, so i went did my work, got back to the metro at Kashmere Gate to get back to my car. Got frisked. Got my bag checked. Got in the train. Again. Not one cutie.

Then, life changed. Well, not really, but when i got out of the train i saw her.
As soon as a stepped out, i turned right. I glanced left, and there was a stairway leading up, and walking towards it, i could see this really hot body. Her hair was really long, like she could be in a Garnier Ad.

Anyway, when she turned to get onto the stairway, she could see me, and i saw her face. Man, she was model material, the stuff that dreams are made of. So i froze, turned, and began walking towards her.

When i did that, she stopped too. And she watched me walk towards her. She did it in a sort of funny way. Like, she didn't just turn her neck to look at me, she turned from the waist. Like she had a crick in the neck, or my sis's barbie dolls. Anyway, she followed me, with her eyes. (wow, that actually sounds good)
When i got on the stairs, i was just behind her, so she turned to look at me, (yes from the waist, in that funny way).

Then she said, ``Me?'', with this really hot, inquisitive look. I had not said anything to her, not motioned, not even blinked, where did she think i said anything?

But it took me completely by surprise. I didn;t know what to do. I froze. ``er, no,'' i said. Sheeesh. even that was inaudible.

She said, ``ok,'' and walked on. I followed her for a bit, even to the wrong entrance. But she was gone, my courage was all phut.

sigh.

Like my sensei said once, ``you've lost your chance. Now you can't get it back. Come back next session, try again.''

I got in my car. `Wonderwall' began playing as soon as i slid the face of the system into place.

ah well.

On another note, i'm happy today also. I got my first Rejoinder!!!! owwoooooooooooooo

The government sent it in, for a story i did, denying that the guy ever spoke to me. My chief reporter said, ``Fuck them''. So i will. Tomorrow, i get to write, in FIRST PERSON, why they are dickheads. Cool or what? hope it goes ok.

On yet another note, i'm sad. Cos no-frickin-body reads my blog. My counter today said 5 unique people read it. 5. one of them is me.

4wd

2005-11-10T22:22:00.000-08:00

Where would you get a woman like this???? She farts, burps after her beer, and wears a really hot yellow bikini. ``Sweet dreams are made to these.. who am i to disagree''

http://www.trendpimp.com/displayimage.php?p=570

and this is how you take a car around a bend.
http://www.hedfud.com/media/displayimage.php?album=2&pos=125

love,
4wd

why the blog... now?

2005-11-09T21:03:00.008-08:00

So here it is. My first post which is not the first test post.

This is about me, and why i'm blogging.
Firstly, i'v always wanted to blog. But i never knew what i should blog about. I had nothing to say. Nothing. Well, nothing i ever wanted to share with you chumps.

What do i do for a living. I write. I wish i wrote for kids, or even porn. but no, i write for a newspaper. So i must trawl the city, looking for something wrong. Then i hype it up a bit, and boom. Its a job. its fun. I know some important people :)

By the way, for my post grad, my dissertation was on blogs. I just did it cos i had 3 days left, hadn't started, had no access to any libraries, so i did some ``qualitative analysis'' on blogs. heh heh . You know whats funny? the word ``analysis'' has the word ``anal'' in it. heh heh.

Anyway, so, what am I. I'm a normal guy. I'm not, like, super-stud material. I'm just normal. I'm fit, but i'm not like muscular and ripped. If i try, i'm sure i can be. It can't be that hard.

So, since i'm normal, i've had girlfriends. Well, i started a little bit late, but i've had. My first was in 11th standard. Well, she was never really my gf, but she was hot, and she cuddled with me a lot, and let me feel her up, and occasionaly, i could kiss. But she had an OLDER guy too! i mean, he was like 10 years older than her. That was like 7 years ago. Damn woman. She said, ``I need someone older, more mature, financially secure.'' To her credit, she's still with him, and going to get married soon, and i'm writing about my search to get nailed.

anyway, next came the `best friend'. yeh we kissed once, but she wanted to be the best freind. Well, sorry. I let that happen for a while, but thats over too.

then there was my first real girl. ok, so she was hot, and almost 9 feet tall. Well, she was 5'11''. And i'm just about 5'8. That went on for like 2 years. Ended, cos she was hooking up with some guy she said ``is my faraway cousin''. Yeh. So we broke up, and i didn't tell her about the one drunken nite with the best friend. So i come out on higher moral ground.

Then there was the last one, which ended, like a month ago. She was a doll. She wasn't perfect, but i loved her. I think i always will, a little. But that had to end. we wont talk about why. ever. (no not penis size, f**c off)

anyway. So i've always been a nice guy, with the women. Not with everyone. Ask the guys i race with. well used to race, now i have to work in this crap city, with no hills to race.

But other than that, i'm not the kind that walks upto a woman at a bar and asks for her number... well... too scared :)

So i've never had a one night stand.

But now i have a new goal. I wanna hook up.

No love here. I'm not lookin for any sort of relationship. Just hook up.

And i figure now that i have a goal, i have something to write about.

so, here it is. lets see now, how this unfolds.

4wd

dull blogs?

2005-11-09T21:03:00.006-08:00

wow. this is amazing. You should see how many comments this guy gets, which is a lot for being the dullest blog in the world.

yay.

2005-11-09T21:03:00.005-08:00

I got a comment. From this guy. Danke. thank you thank you.

test post

2005-11-09T21:03:00.001-08:00

This is a test post. To boldly go where no ... er... no.. WARP SPEED captain! Beam me up scotty. *slap on butt* ``Run along now, Man Talk'' (for the uninitiated, thats James Bond in gold finger, smacking that babe on the butt and saying that.. wow.. thats why all men love james bond)

So, If, for any reason, anyone, is reading this post, which i dunno why you would, cos its, well, unadvertised, you know, i'll be posting. And its about, WOMEN :) so read. pliss. Every writer likes to be read, i dunno why, i mean, its like some perverse exhbitionist thing. You know, like those women, in those porn stories, who wear the little skirts, and no panties? and they like men looking? well, i think writers are like that. Us men too. We want our writer-panties to be seen.

So i'm just discovering this thing.

I can do italics. And BOLD, with keyboard shortcuts. Like in word. neato.

I might like this shit. So, everyone's bloody blogging. I've always wanted to, but i never knew what i should blog about. You know, i had nothing to say. Now i think i do. I always wanted to be serious, you know, like about real things. Like government. Well, for now, i'll let that be, and let my blog be about women. Well, about me and women. So who am i? bwah. this is a test post, you dont get all that here.

Thats in the next post. if you read. pliss? pretty pliss? anyway, lets see how this shit works.

4wd