Random Ruminations

ANIMAL LOST

2011-11-08T20:18:00.000-08:00

OK, i'd really appreciate it if you guys would stop reminding me about how much worse i'm getting at this.

FETISHES THAT MAKE YOU GO WTF!

2011-09-21T05:34:00.000-07:00

Remember the days when a naked woman was enough to get you off. If she was willing, that’s all the arousal you ever needed. You knew what went where. Insert tab A into slot B and almost everyone walked away happy. But times have changed. There’s some weird shit out there. We’re not judging, but it seems there is a wide variety of arousal inducing stimuli. And when a stimuli is way out of what experts without Phds call “normal people’s sexy zone”, it becomes a fetish. We think it’s time you knew about them. The opportunity may arise when you might have to put some of this into practice to please your better half. And if you don’t know what you’re doing, you might land up with a foot in your mouth. Literally. So, hold on to your gonads, S&M and Bondage pale in comparison to these. Let us begin.

Plushophilia: If you walk into a house and see a stuffed Winnie-the-pooh with a violated look on his face, that’s the first sign that the owner is a Plusho.And it’s not just Winnie. It could be Bambi. Garfield. Or even a smurf. Defined as the unnatural attraction towards stuffed animals, you might want to know how exactly does one do the nasty with a teddy bear. Well, considering that none of them are objecting, anything goes. And the best part is, no dinner required and they’re not going to compare you to earlier lovers.

Formicophilia: Recipe: 1 or more creepy crawlies. 1 naked person. 1 video camera because this stuff will be a guaranteed hit on Youtube. Formicophilia is the act of getting your jollies from insects crawling on your genitals. So, what you do is get yourself a bunch of ants and put them where the sun don’t shine. The arousal derived from the insects crawling or even nibbling on the genitals is out of this world. And right on planet crazy. So if you’re ever wondering what a praying mantis is always imploring. It’s for shit like this not to happen to it.

Apotemnophilia: The erotic interest in being an amputee. Alrighty then. Even we have a couple of questions here. Does this mean that you can only get an orgasm four times considering the limited number of limbs we humans have? Wouldn’t it be funny if you cut off everything and then realized you should have kept a hand to do the dirty deed? No? Ok. Moving on. Apotemnophilia has a close sister called Acrotomophilia, where one wants to jump into the sack with an amputee. Which is a lot less painful for the person with the fetish we think.

Spectrophilia: If you wanted a deeply spiritual sexual experience, it doesn’t get better than Spectrophilia. Ghost Sex. We can’t imagine how much fun that could be considering ghosts don’t really have genitalia. Or any other body part to speak of for that matter. To imagine that they called in a psychic to get rid of the ghost in Poltergeist. All the spookie wanted was a lil nookie. Evidence of Spectrophilia can be seen in night clubs all over the nation. If you notice someone in the corner gyrating by themselves, pelvic thrusts and everything, they’re probably doing Casper.

PS: we checked the rule book: you’re still a virgin even if you’ve done it with a ghost.

Nasophilia: There are a couple of plus points with doing it in the nose. Yeah, you read right. In the nose. Number one: You can’t get anyone pregnant. Number two: Well, there’s no number two. That’s all we got. On the flip side, you’re never going to find someone with big enough nostrils except Om Puri. And if you do manage to go through with the act, you could probably kill someone. And nobody wants their epitaph to read “death by penis in the nose”.

Macrophilia: The bigger the better. Macrophilia is the attraction to large people. And we’re not talking about big-boned people. We’re looking at giants here, like Miss Gulliver. One of the lousier fetishes to be stuck with, there’s nothing much to work with here. Sure there’s the ginormous boobies, but other than using them as ski slopes or to plug in the hole in the ozone layer, we don’t really see the point. And how do you propose to satisfy the said giantess? You’ll need one hell of a magical enlargement pump.

Hybristophilia: Also called the Bonny and Clyde syndrome, Hybristophilia is the attraction to people who have committed crimes. We don’t see this as a unique fetish, because if you’re in jail, a lot of your friends in there might already find you pretty damn attractive. Also, there must be some sort of benchmark for the kind of crime committed, correlated to the attraction. The 3G scam guys can’t possibly get a truck load of non-jail nookie. Perhaps you need to hold up a bank or something. And not one of ‘em cooperative banks. A private bank with many ATMs and online banking.

Dacryphilia: This is a fun one. Make em cry, and you’re on your way to happy town down there. As a part of BDSM, it involves one person witnessing the other in emotional distress. So, just put on a Van Damme movie, wait for the flood gates to open and you’re good to go. Other ways to do it are to admit that you wipe your hands to the curtain. Or simple say “Did you eat my girlfriend because I swear you were thinner yesterday”.

Mechanophilia: Oooh yeah MH01 J 2431… is that an exhaust pipe right there or are you just happy to see me? What? The minivan? That meant nothing to me. It was just physical. A one time thing. The attraction to automobiles is not that strange when you come to think of it. Every guy has given their bike or car a sexy girl’s name like Betsy. Or Matilda. Whisper sweet nothing to make her run right. Given her a little tap on the rear to make her know she’s cared about. It’s only when you rub your piston against her petrol tank, that things get outta whack.

Phalloorchoalgolagnia –might as well slap a picture of Osama down there. As if spelling the damn thing wasn’t painful enough Phalloorchoalgolagniacs like to get hit, squeezed, kicked, pinched, poked, pierced, flicked, bit down there. More pain, more gain, the intense soreness is supposed to heighten the sexual pleasure. With whatever is left of your mini punching bag of course.

Vorarephilia: Some people like being nibbled on the ears. Then there are others who like being eaten whole. Vorarephilia is a sexual fetish where arousal occurs from the idea of being eaten alive. We’re not sure of the technicalities here, but perhaps you need to marinate yourself first for at least 24 hours. A little ginger garlic paste maybe. Some lime. Salt to taste. And French beans for roughage. While the fantasy may or nay not include digestion, imagine having a whole person in you. Fidgeting around the whole day when you’re trying to get some work done. Isn’t that how hernias occur?

Sitophilia: The attraction to food may seem normal to some. Licking some whipped cream of a body. Playing with cherries. But what about eating a whole meal? Some of us don’t put veggies in our mouths… why on earth put it on our body! That’s just revolting! Other Sitophiliacs also like their partners to interact with the food a bit more. For example, mash potatoes with their feet, and then stick their thingies in it. Why someone would try to impregnate a potato, beats us. Others also like to dabble in cocktails after their partners add their own personal ‘ingredients’. That’s one nasty way to temper the taste.

HELP

2011-08-14T08:03:00.000-07:00

Can someone help me design this blog? I am really bad at this.
Anybody?
I will part with my wine, beer, fancy cheese and Ferrero Rocher if you do.

SPAMMERS - WHAT ARE THEY SMOKING?

2011-08-04T01:21:00.000-07:00

PUBLISHED IN MAXIM, July 2011, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Spammers. The crazy guys that are trying to sell us a better sex life and a Rolex. It's perhaps one of the most stressful and difficult jobs on the planet. Right up there with air- traffic control guys and stool sample collector. First you've got to think of a catchy name to send the mail from.
Like Dr Longtime Love. Or Mum. A name that would pique the interest of the reader to check out the subject. The title of the mail then has to give the reader a little more to bite. Old-school spammers tried out the allure of money and sex with subjects like "lots of money - for free" or "free nude pics of Margaret Thatcher". But the new generation spammers have just lost the plot. In fact we've even got mails asking if we'd like to "increase our mortgage by two inches". Maybe it's the stress of coming up with novel ways to market whatever it is they're selling. Or maybe their weed dealer is short-changing them. Either ways, if you're ever having a bad day at work, or feel like doing weird things to your manhood / womanhood… CHECK YOUR SPAM. It's a goldmine of entertainment. Here are a couple of real spam subjects. Let's see what these schmucks are trying to tell us.

STIR UP A PASSION IN HER HEART WITH YOUR MAGIC WAND.

There's a small flaw here. You can't really stir with a wand. You can make a bunny appear though. But they'll just put you to shame with their humping techniques and that's not going to do anybody any good. Perhaps what they should have said was - Stir up a passion in her heart with your magic wooden ladle. Or make a good salad at least because there’s nothing like keeping yourself healthy while you’re doing nasty things with your
human cutlery.

HUGE LOVEMAKER HAS BECOME UNBELIEVABLY REAL

These guy are working under the assumption that our love-maker wasn't real before. Like the tooth-fairy or insurance claims, it's a myth, The stuff that dreams are made of. Some men fantasize about owning a yacht. Other work hard towards getting their very own twinkie. The best part is, now your office won't have a problem with you touching yourself at your desk because, hey, it ain't there!

YOU'RE NEW JOYSTICK SCORES MORE

Here's where it gets a bit confusing. First they're telling us it's imaginary. And now they say he's playing a game down there. And something they're offering is going to help him win. Don't get us wrong, we want him to win. But it might help if we just knew what the hell he's playing. And what are the rules? Is it a team sport? Does he have to test for dope? There's a good ball joke here dying to be told… but we'll stay away from it.

GET YOUR ONLINE DOCTORATE IN MEDICINE NOW
Is this thing legit? If the internet guys do manage to give out doctorates...makes you wonder doesn't it. The guy standing over you with a scalpel... did he pass out of www.surgery-for-dummies.com? Why is the surgeon googling stuff on his phone? What does he mean his Bypass App ain't working?

DON'T WASTE YOUR LIFE WITH YOUR RIGHT HAND

Now just hold on a minute. What are they trying to say about righty? Is he not trust- worthy? It's the good-for-nothing hand? The one that mother warned us about? We can't really walk out on our right hand can we? Sure ol' lefty will always be by our side. But the other one's been there through good times and bad. Those days when we couldn't sleep. The times when 'she' has her scheduled headaches. Or when you saw those lesbians make-out at the club. Don't worry Mr. Right. You're number one in our books.

YOU HAVE INHERITED 150,000 DOLLARS

This one's a beauty, They mail you saying that there's this guy in Nigeria who died and his moolah has gone to the bank. And hello hello, he has the same surname as you. So it's really simple, all you have to do is send them some money as processing fees, your bank account details and they'll get the money out under the pretext that you're a long lost relative. And they'll split it with you of course... 50-50. Now let's analyse this. There's a dead Nigerian who has the same Indian surname as you. Sounds a wee bit fishy doesn't it. But Watambe and Maturdas are almost alike. Then he has a plan to get the money out. And all he needs is a little money and your bank account details. Fair enough. And he wants to split it 50-50. There you go. That's your clue that this is a rip-off. Who would want to split it. Now if he said 60-40 we would have probably gone ahead with it.

SUPERSIZE YOUR LITTLE BABYMAKER

We'd really wish they'd stop calling it little. Besides we make up for it with enthusiasm anyway. Moving on, what's nice here is the fast-food touch that they've incorporated. Yes, supersize it and a large coke with fries please. And take-away. We'd like to carry it around. You never know when the urge to make a baby might arise. When you're at immigration at the airport. Or when you're scuba-diving. Wham, you feel like making a
baby. No fear, the supersized procreator is here.

CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE JUST WON THE LOTTERY!

Yup, you have won 1 million dollars! So why don't you give us a couple of bucks so we can send the money to you. You know, because we spent all the cash we had organising the damn lottery thing. But congratulations once again. Ok, there's a simple formula here of figuring out whether this is a scam or not. Have you bought a lottery ticket lately? No? Chances are, you didn't win it then. Trust us, we ran the numbers and they keep coming
up with the same answers. You can't win the lottery if you didn't participate in the lottery. It's one of those freaky laws of nature. Go Figure.

HELP THIS POOR UKRAINIAN GIRL IF YOU HAVE A HEART.

This one doesn't solicit money but it just annoys the f@&* out of us. There's a girl. In Ukraine. And she has no shoes. And for every person you forward this mail to, Microsoft will donate one dollar to the Ukranian Girl Shoe Fund. Also known as UGSF (acronyms always do wonders.) Why would Bill Gates do that? What kind of crazy-assed diamond encrusted hi–tech shoes is he going to buy her? Does it have windows? Will it crash every half an hour so you have to upgrade to Shoe XP?

STRANGE HOT FACE BOOK GIRL WANTS TO BE YOUR FRIEND

You log in one fine day and Tatiana wants to be your friend. Tatiana - who's a D cup, showing her cleavage right down to her toes, wants to get to know you better. You accept and a couple of minutes later she's shoving links down your pants asking you check out her photos. First, wipe off the big L on your forehead. The hot Tatianas of the world are busy making movies like the Good, the Bad & the Horny and MegaGrind. She has no time to log on and add you, out of the blue, just because she's feeling a bit sociable today.

BY HAVING A BEAUTIFUL LUXURY DESIGNER REPLICA WATCH, YOUR
GIRLFRIEND WILL BE SURELY INCLINED TOWARDS YOU AT ONCE.

Note the words carefully. Designer replica watch. Not your ordinary replicas. Those are so 2010. We've got designer replicas these days. They take those fakes and make it look nothing like the original. Next, how did this woman become your girlfriend without already being inclined to you? Or perhaps she's straying from the path of exclusivity. And what better way to get her back then to go out there and wear a replica watch? Good-
looks, sensitivity and loads of cash are so over-rated.

GIVE YOUR LADY GODLY ACTION IN BED WITH YOUR NEW PECKER

Yeah... throw away your old pecker and give her some of that Zeus action. Lightening bolts, fire, kaboom... that sort of thing. Wonder what they do with all them old discarded peckers? Maybe there's a graveyard somewhere, just like how elephants have their secret graveyards, where old peckers go to rest. Poor guys. They give, and they give, and they give… and there's just no appreciation. The minute something bigger and better comes along, it's seeya later masturbator.

SEXY GIRLS WILL LOOK AT YOU DIFFERENTLY - THRILL HER MORE
EVERY NIGHT WITH BIGPENISENLARGEMENT.COM

One question. How would these sexy girls know that woody wooden pecker has now graduated into the big league? Do they have a radar to sense these things? Unless of course, they promise that it's gonna grow soooo big that it will hang below your pants sleeves. Do shoes come as triplets? Just wondering.

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN PORN AND REALITY

2011-01-06T09:36:00.000-08:00

Every self respecting man has watched his fare share of porn. We’ve downloaded, bought, borrowed and lived vicariously through our HD TVs and computer screens. What some of us, however, fail to understand is that no amount of finger crossing, lamp rubbing or praying will ever make the events on screen happen to you. There are more chances of Oprah appearing on Playboy than any of those things occurring to you, dear horny friend. Besides, some of the details in those stories are little bit of a stretch. Let’s start of with the characters, for instance.

The Characters

Seriously, nurses do not look like that! They don’t wear short skirts. They don’t leave the tops of their uniforms unbuttoned. Also, we’re pretty sure they don’t shave. And we’re not talking about the crotchular area. Facial hair, legs, hands, backs… the works. There is some good news though if you’re into playing around with your derriere. If you ask nicely, we’re sure they’ll be more than willing to give you an enema.

And when a teacher in real life says she will “punish you appropriately after class”, chances are, she’s going punish the shit out of you after class. The bitch slaps and rulers to the knuckles are the closest you’re gonna get to S&M. Moreover, Miss Matthews does not, and will never bend down in front of you to pick up chalk. If she did, you’d really wish she hadn’t. That sort of imagery will leave behind scars for the rest of your life.

Let’s move on to the latino maids. There are none over here. Instead of Izabelle, we have mother-of-six, rolling pin aficionado - Kantabai. Don’t be mistaken… we love her! Kantabai is someone who cooks, cleans, takes out the garbage and basically puts our lives in order. Why would we want to screw up that relationship? She would not be cool with you filming her cleaning the house naked. So don’t even try.

Then there’s also the 18 year old girl scout. We’ve never seen here. Not only is she as fictional as Santa Clause, you’d get as many sexual favours from, as you would the fat man. So stop waiting by the door. Here’s the harsh reality. The only strangers to knock at your door will be the milkman with his bill, the electricity guy with his bill, the newspaper guy with his bill, and the tax evasion guys. Get out and earn your nookie like everyone else.

The Storyline

The old ‘doing it with your female boss in the office after working hours’ plot. Forget about it. First of all, there’s a 0.0025 % chance that you’re going to be hired by a playboy bunny boss. And a 0.0005 % chance that she’s going to punish you for that shabby report by taking off her clothes.

Joining dominos will also not increase your chances of getting some tail on the side. So don’t give up your day job. Cmmon.. be realistic! If she’s ordering pizza, she’s probably not alone. Secondly, she definitely has money at home. So there’s no way in hell she’s going to offer to pay you through other services. Besides, do you think a lady with burning loins out there will be looking to sleep with someone who’s publicly advertising that they’d come the quickest? We think not.

How about the photographer who gets in models and sweet talks them into taking their clothes off for a few aesthetic shots. And then bumps uglies with them. In reality, you will need a professional studio. With the real estate rates these days, that alone will kill your mojo. Then you need to invest in equipment to at least give the illusion that you know what you’re doing. And if you do manage to set everything up and rake a girl in, write to us from jail and tell us what kind of lens you used. Who knows we’ll even mail you a free issue of Maxim while you’re in the can.

Owner of the love mobile. So you’re driving around in your run-down van asking random hot chicks to hop in the back. Then after a few jokes they hump your friend’s brains out while you drive around town nonchalantly. There are a few small flaws here. Random hot chicks usually come with balding men driving porches. It’s a packaged deal. They’ve never heard of walking. Secondly, they’re not going to get into your matchbox on wheels. Not even if you told them that there’s a leprechaun with a pot of diamonds in the back seat. Thirdly, with the price of petrol, how the hell in anyone going to drive around till your friend gets his groove on. Fourthly, where are you going to find an empty road in an Indian city? Fifthly, who in their right minds would opt to be a driver, while someone else gets the action? Another myth debunked, thanks to the scientists of porn right here at Maxim, thank you very much.

Then there’s the one about being stranded on an island full of naked hot tribal blondes who haven’t had some jungle love till you showed up. The usual plot goes like this - you’re wandering through the jungle looking for some signs of life. You stumble upon a tribe of women praying to the sun god for a man who can give them the good lovin. Enter stage right – you. So here’s what you need to do for that to happen. Get onto a boat and sink it (to keep in line with the story of course). Then swim a few thousand kilometres to the nearest deserted island. If it doesn’t look deserted enough , keep swimming till you find one. Once you’re satisfied, walk around till you find a group of women who have somehow managed to reproduce and spawn more blondes without a man around. Then it’s all easy going from there as you teach them the horny ways of the civilised world. All this while the chimpanzee choral symphony sing Pow Chicka Wow Wow in harmony on the side. See? Easy Peasy!

And one of our personal favourite – the best friend’s mom. You get to your friend’s place and surprise, surprise he’s not home. His mom is though. And if looks are anything to go by, she must have given birth to your friend when she was 10. She then proceeds to tell you that since her husband died in a freak accounting incident, she’s never had a man. During the next 60 minutes, she shows Mr Woody what it’s been missing. Now come back to the real world.

Close your eyes and think of your closest friend’s mother. Now picture her naked. Ok, after you’ve thrown up, we ask you another question? Why does your friend still stay with his mother?

Let’s go to the stunts.

The moves

First of all, we’re not equipped with drill bits like pornstars such as Peter North or Rocco Siffredi. We’re not expected to! The average Indian penis size is 10 cms or 4 inches. So stop tugging at the thing, you’re just fine. It’s just like any other movie you see on the silver screen. You exaggerate the drama because it’s entertainment. It’s just that in porn, they cast the exceptions to the rule. There’s no need to order that suction pump no more. All you need is some good moves and you’re good to go. It might also be prudent to hide your stash of porn from the missus, though. You don’t want her thinking that there are possibilities out there. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Coming back to the performances. You can’t go on for 45 minutes at a stretch without popping it. It’s just not human! Sure you can think of grandma, clean the pipes before hand, or even apply some gels. But to keep going on an on like the energizer bunny for that long is just plain ridiculous. Even if you could, you would wear your woman out before you know it. Nobody wants them 2 minutes noodles. But the agonisingly long baked potato isn’t so hot either. If you’ve got something searing in between, you’re good to go.

Then of course, there are the positions. Our legs JUST DON’T BEND THAT WAY. Perhaps it’s the magic of cinema. Or maybe they don’t have knee joints. If you want to try to put your own ankles behind your ears while doing the hula hoop and receiving fellatio at the same time, by all means, go ahead. But we did warn you, those stunts have been performed by professionals and should not be tried at home. You’d be better off driving a moped through a ring of fire. At least the little captain won’t be bent out of shape.

Then there are the locations that are viable for fornication. The forest - In all honesty, we’d be too busy looking out for snakes, bears and poison ivy before we’d even put on the Barry White CD and light our candles. And it’s a little weird doing it in front of rabbits. The kings of hump would probably judge us and our moves, which is a little unnerving.

Public transport is no easier. Considering how jam packed our buses and trains get, you will get action all right. The only problem is that you can’t control the sex of your partner. Or the positions you find yourself in. Common public transport sex positions, by default, are the ‘twisted donut’ the ‘straddling monkey’ and the ‘hernia patient’. You might not like it, but you take what you get.

A few notes before we end. Pornography is like a fairytale. It’s a make believe world that keeps us happy in our own freakish way. Maybe some of us get through our cruel and gruelling days hoping that some alignment of the planets will make our hot neighbour come over for salt and end up giving a little sugar. But here’s the good news. Truth is stranger than fiction. And stuff worthy of the erotic screens has been known to happen. When you least expect it, you could hit the jackpot. Who knows… tales of your sexcapades will be told far and wide. Till then, stay focused on the real world, and have fun while you’re at it.

COUNTRY ROADS, KILL ME NOW

2010-12-21T22:24:00.000-08:00

Country music IS the devil's music. My roommate once played a whole set of country songs and Satan himself appeared before us.

But then he just begged us to switch those infernal sounds off.

True Story.

Anyway, I must have listened to a hundred country tracks. And that got me thinking.

Don't start applauding, I'm not done yet.

Country music has a pattern. A methodology of lyrics and sounds that sets it apart from normal people's music.

Listen to a couple of country tracks and you'll find that they either have:

A Dog
A ranch
A donkey
A woman who left him
A woman who died
Donkey / dog that left him.
Donkey / dog that died.
A woman who left with the dog on the donkey, and then died.
A cowboy with emotional problems

Paint these lyrics with Texan colours and you have yerself a hit, y'all.

Of course, you are allowed to bring other animals and objects into the song at your own discretion. I've taken the trouble to make a table for you so you can get your country theme going (proof that spending a long weekend out of the house is more constructive).

Just randomly pick from each of the columns for your own country hit!

Let me know what topics you've chosen by leaving a comment behind.

Once you've mixed and matched your options, you should have something like

"My cow bobby-joe makes me wear lace panties everyday in the barn, and that's why I cry"

That my friend, is the theme/title to your new hit country song.

From now on the words don't matter. You can keep repeating the same line over and over again but remember to intersperse it with some guitar TWANGS.

They can't be strums or cool guitar riffs.

They have to be twangs.

twang [twæŋ] n: a sharp ringing sound produced by plucking of a taut string producing an effect as if the guitar is pleading the musician to stop what he’s doing.

Ok we're done. You're a country professional. Don't worry if people say you ain't talented. Talent's got nothing to do with country music.

Once you've made your platinum records and won your award at the cowboy Grammies, you know who to thank.

And the answer is NOT your donkey.

THINGS WOMEN WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND ABOUT MEN.

2010-12-20T01:27:00.000-08:00

In the beginning God created Adam. After some thought and a lot of tinkering he pulled out a rib from the poor sod and created a pretty little thing called Eve. Eve never really got Adam. Apart from the fact that he had weird looking body parts, his thinking was radically different.

Eve wanted to cover his poker with a fig leaf. He preferred going commando. She preferred eating forbidden apples. He liked kobé beef with a side of bacon and potatoes. And the way he looked at some of the sheep made Eve very insecure about her looks.

Which wasn’t Adam’s intention…but it’s just a case in point that there are some things about men that women will never understand. Never. Fast forward to the 21 century and things are pretty much the same. Read on and see.

Shopping isn’t therapy for men. Women have a million excuses to shop. A 50% off sale. A party to go to. A chipped nail. A break-up. Or even swine flu. Men have one reason. We need new clothes. And there are clear rules as to when clothes become old. The colour should have faded to another colour that isn’t cool. A rip in our pants, if, and only if those pants are not denim. Ripped denims are absolutely fine. Lucky shirts are not to be replaced under any circumstances. The food stains have memories to them. And the moth eaten holes add character. We won’t replace it. You can’t make us. Even if you withhold sex. Ok… perhaps you can.

Men understand the healing properties of beer. Beer is the elixir of life. Beer heals the broken heart, the broken bone and is the answer to the cure for cancer, given that our researchers have downed enough beer. The best remedy to a hang-over? More beer! It makes your cooking more palatable. It keeps the Vatican going. Beer is not just an alcoholic beverage. For men, it’s a food group. Just like doughnuts and spare-ribs. It’s the main reason my birds chirp and snakes move in the groovy way they do. Beer – there’s just no denying it.

We’re not always analysing our relationship. Sometimes it’s just fine for us to stare at the ceiling and not think about taking the next step in our relationship. You know that intense contemplative look we get when we’re looking into the deep abyss of nothingness? There are three possibilities to what might be going on there. We’re either sulking over the loss of our favourite team. Or, we’re passing gas. And the most plausible… WE’RE NOT THINKING ANYTHING. That’s what we do. We zone out to a happy place of absolute nothingness. It’s a gift. Think of it as beans induced meditation.

We’re always ready for sex. You wanna know what’s a clear sign that we want nookie? We’re breathing. That’s the sign. It’s ok to wake us up for sex at any time. Absolutely any time. Nine times out of ten, sex takes precedence over sleep. The other one time we’re just recovering from a romp. And to be honest... some of us are good to go again. We don’t need a reason, a place, a mood or the proper lightning. We’re understanding beings. Football’s on? No problemo. That’s why Kamasutra was invented. So we can twist our bodies in such unimaginable ways that we can enjoy two things at once. A lil footy and a lil nookie.

We don’t know what a conditioner is. Seriously. What the fuck is it? We just got around the shampoo bit. Lather, rinse, repeat… we get it. Now conditioner? What does it condition? Or let’s take a step back. What does condition even mean? Men don’t get it. I’m not even sure we want to. Is it like a primer? Or a glaze? You know how you baste the chicken with butter to make it all shiny. Perhaps that’s what it does. Truth be told – it’s a ploy. If you don’t see a conditioner on our shelves, it’s because we refuse to bow down to corporate marketing gimmicks. All we need is our trusted old deo that promised to get us the chiquitas.

We’ll watch porn no matter how much sex we’re getting. Here’s the thing. What women see as pornographic movies, men see as educational video aids. It’s almost like a distance learning course. We’re always in this constant state of learning, absorbing what’s new, and putting into practice. So what if the teachers happen to be mutli-award winning porn stars Jenna Jameson and Jenna Haze? You know that new move we bring to the bedroom? We didn’t read that stuff in Readers Digest. We leaned that from ‘XXX Men – The rise of Erecto Magnifico.

Our obsessions with breasts. What’s not to like? They’re magical! They’re like everyday Christmas presents. Perhaps that’s why we’re fixated with the things. One stupid apple in the beginning of time and they’ve been covered for all eternity. If you’re hiding them, they must be special. If women started wearing ear-muffs all the time, we’d start paying good money just to see pictures of their ears. A woman would cross you in the park, and you’d turn to your friend as say “Check out the lobes on that chick!”

Why we don’t stop to ask for directions. A debatable study says that men have a little extra iron deposited in their bodies. And like a compass, we’re supposed to have a pretty good sense of direction. Well, theoretically at least. But truth be told, asking for directions is a sign of weakness. Men are always fighting to be pack leaders. The rest are supposed to look to us for help and assistance. Not the other way around. We’re supposed to know where things are. Most of us can find the fridge and toilet in the dark. A restaurant half way across town can’t be all that tough.

Why we don’t remember important dates and things. Again, men are always in a constant state of learning. Like sponges, we’re constantly absorbing data, mostly to make our better halves happy. But nobody can hold an infinite amount of information. Something’s gotta give. Effectively, for every new bit that is processed, something old has to go. We learn the answer to “Am I pretty” and we forget the answer to “Am I fat”. We learn your mother’s name, we forget our anniversary. We remember to pick up milk, we forget the shout out the right name in bed. It’s simple mathematics and we can’t be blamed for it.

The need to control the remote is in our man genes. It’s not something that can be treated. It’s the law of nature. Women might not know the proper technique of speed- flipping during commercials. How to watch two programs at once. Or even the specific volume levels for each program. For example every man knows that Sex and the City can be best enjoyed when the volume is at 2. And Die Hard ... 88 or even 89. These things are built into our DNA. So let us do what we do best and hand over the remote.

Men appreciate beauty in the most unlikely of places. The neighbour who steps out for a jog in a tank-top. The yoga instructor in flat 24-c in desperate need of opaque curtains. The girl with a tongue stud at the check-out counter. Women might misunderstand our roving eyes for being inconsiderate. Insensitive. Some even go to the extent of saying we objectify them. Well, excuse us for applauding God’s handy work. Us looking around is just our way of giving him a spiritual high-5.

Violence = entertainment. Movies about a hooker falling in love with a billionaire is a no-no. One about a girl falling in love with a bat and a wolf is also a pass. We’re born hunters. Get us close to the action. Aliens. Helicopters exploding. Cars crashing. Aliens crashing helicopters into cars. All we need is a semi-decent plot, a couple of explosions, all sprinkled with the integral sex scene. Safe to say, we’re flexible on the plot part. A flick with anything less than a paper-cut is not likely to get the adrenaline pumping.

We don’t know why you’re angry. So stop walking around in a huff saying “you know what you did.” We just don’t remember. Was it that reference to your mother being Satan’s spawn? Did we mention your weight? Is today our 140 month anniversary. Just come out and say it, because we’re not lying when we say We Don’t Know. Asking us to figure it out will just have us apologising for ridiculous stuff. “Honey, I’m sorry I took you out to dinner. I apologise if that man didn’t know you were just a bit bloated and not expecting twins.”

15 things you thoughts you knew... but really didn't.

2010-09-23T22:26:00.000-07:00

Something else I wrote for Maxim

Everybody knows one of them. The Mr I- know- it- all- so- pass- me- my- wine- whilst- I- sip- on- it-with- my- pinky- finger- up. The guy who takes great efforts to never appear surprised. Well, here’s some trivia that’ll send the alcohol shooting right through his nostrils and onto his Spongebob tie.

1) Pluto is a planet.

It isn’t! I know what you’re thinking. WTF? Well apparently it’s a poser. A fake. Just like root beer, it can’t be trusted. So here’s the lowdown. One fine night when the bespectacled guys wielding telescopes were sitting around smoking the whacky tabbacky, one of them suddenly said “Wait a minute” Pluto, doesn’t make the cut. Now, Pluto is considered a dwarf planet and is part of something called the Kuiper Belt. But the whole thing is still debatable.

2) Porn stars don’t get camera shy

They do! Who would have thought? Sometimes it’s just hard in front of the camera. Not

literally. That’s why they have fluffers. Men and women who do what it takes to get the

actors ‘ready’ for the next shot. They’re usually armed with knee-pads and Listerine.

3) Cold showers and coffee will sober you up.

Shorry. Just like a relationship gone bad, only time will heal. According to credible sources (cough... google), it takes the body one hour to get the alcohol from one drink out of the body. Give a drunk a cuppa, and all your get is a wide awake drunk.

4) Eve offered an apple to Adam

She did send him down shit creek. But nowhere does it say in the bible that an apple was involved. All the book says is that it was ‘a’ fruit. It could have been a banana. Or an avocado. Or that smelly fruit you get in Bangkok.

5) Michael Jackson was a black man.

Well, we still love her music.

6) Size doesn’t matter

That’s what we keep telling ourselves, isn’t it? It’s what you do with it that counts. Well, the gifted don’t even have to try. They get it on like Donkey Kong without even trying. Not to discredit those of us who have our special moves, but could you really stand next to Moby over there and still feel confident?

7) Fire is the most important invention

Not even the wheel. Fermentation wins by a landslide. Alcohol – the solution to all of life’s problems. Except alcoholism and India’s dismal performance at hockey. But that’s still debatable.

8) The answer to “Do you think I’m fat?”

You’re wrong. Whatever your answer is, it’s wrong. Trust us; studies have proven that there is no possible right answer to this question. Replies like “No”, “Yes” and “Compared to what?” will all get you into some serious trouble.

9) Slaves built the pyramids

And you thought you knew your history. Nobody likes being whipped at work unless, that is, you have a really hot boss in leather. That’s why the Pharaohs hired people from around the area to help build the pyramids. Free men who couldn’t farm because of the flooding Nile. And they next best thing to do was lug stones around. True story.

10) Bats are blind

Apparently they see pretty darn good. Just not as well as humans. But they do use some form of sonar called echolocation when their eyesight fails them. So technically, the metaphor ‘as blind as a bat’ should actually be changed to ‘as visually impaired to some extent as a bat’.

11) Viking raped and pillaged

Get this... their average height was just around 5’7”. They weren’t all blonde. (Yes, Asterix did lie to us.) And these testosterone-packing, raping, pillaging beasts were mostly pussycats that were employed as farmers, craftsmen and traders. The Vikings that took the sea did pillage a little. But just a wee bit. And it was just one of their list of top ten things to do.

12) Lightening doesn’t strike twice in the same place.

It can. It does. Especially if there’s some sort of radio antenna perched up in a high place. So if you find yourself holding a metal rod on the Empire State Building (it could happen), and you’re struck by lightening, drop the rod and run like the wind.

13) Women don’t pass gas

They do. It’s one of them Ninja farts. Nobody knows when or how it happened. Apparently someone in Mexico actually caught a woman farting on tape. But rumour has it that if you watch the tape, you get a call immediately, and then you die in seven days.

14) Beer doesn’t kill brain cells

So, there are these people get paid to study beer. Great job right? Anyway, the latest study was to analyse the effects of beer on the brain cells. Assuming that the magic drink did not hinder the judgement of the ‘analysers’, it turns out that beer DOES NOT kill the brain cells. It affects the nerve connectors between them. But no damage to the brain cells. For the most part. Sustained abuse though is a different story.

15) Hotel California is about devil worship

It’s not about Lucifer. It’s not about killing the prince of darkness. It’s not even about a freakin hotel. The not-so-cool interpretation? It’s about hedonism and greed in Southern California in the 70s. The Eagles enjoyed the money, cars and women and then proceeded to tell the world how bad it all was.

11 DATES THAT EVERY GUY SHOULD REMEMBER

2010-07-10T09:36:00.000-07:00

*Something I wrote for Maxim magazine a couple of months ago.*

Use post-its. Imprint them on your brain. Tattoo them on your body parts for all I care. Here is a list of dates that every guy should remember for the betterment of all mankind and possibly, world peace.

1) 14^th March - Steak and Blow job day

It’s what dreams are made of. Erotic dreams. Not the one about you showing up naked to work. Invented by Tom Birdsey, god bless his soul, this day has been dedicated to meat. Literally. It’s the perfect repartee to Valentine’s Day which, contrary to popular opinion, is not meant for lovers. Every intelligent guy knows Valentines was invented by women, for women only. Well, March 14^th is ours.

2) 12th March / 13th June - World Naked Bike Ride Day

People are protesting. And they’re protesting in the best way possible. Through the forceful and persuasive means of nakedness. And it’s time we join them. Bare as much as you want. Hop on to your bicycle. And remember to wear a helmet. You don’t want to hurt something. By the way, just in case you’re interested, they’re protesting oil dependency.

3) Every woman’s birthday

Well not every woman. That’s plain ridiculous. But you’re wife’s/ girlfriend’s, her mothers, both grandmothers on her side and your side and all female relatives on her side. Hey, we don’t make up the rules. We just follow them.

4) 5th August - International Beer Day

This may lead to some confusion, because a lot of us think that every day is beer day. Either way, International Beer Day is the day celebrated in August when it’s still warm enough to enjoy an ice cold beer as opposed to the Oktoberfest. Ways to celebrate include drinking beer (check), drinking beer with friends (check), and buying beer for others (WTF, it’s beer day again?). Lastly, tradition states that you greet someone by handing them a beer and saying “I bring you the gift of beer (you cheap shit)’ whilst smiling.

5) Fall 2010 – Launch of PlayStation Move

Fall is what saner people call September. And that’s when Sony hits the retail outlets with its answer to the Nintendo Wii. With better graphic support and a remote that pretty much looks like a vibrator, it’s fun for the whole family!

6) December 21st 2012 – The End of Something

The acting in 2012 may have been hammy, but the movie wasn’t entirely baseless. The Mayan Calendar’s 5125 year cycle ends on that date. Various interpretations have been proposed, right from an apocalypse to the ushering in a ‘Golden Era’ of spiritual elevation. Whatever be the case, we’ve warned you. So grab your alcohol stash, head into your bunker and come out when things have settled down.

7) 11th June 2010 - The Football World Cup

The greatest tournament of them all – The FIFA World Cup. For one month 32 teams from 5 continents will battle it out for world supremacy. Right now, we we can’t find 11 players from our own country of a billion to cheer. So pick a team with the hottest fans, call the blokes over and crack open an ice-cold one.

8) June 2010 - Volkswagen Bugatti Veyron in India.

Or somewhere around June. Bugatti happens to be the world’s first car to reach crotch numbing speeds of 400kmph. And if that doesn’t hurt your nether regions, get this... this beast carries a price tag of around 8 Crore. That’s gotta pinch a little.

9) Her ‘Special’ Date

AKA , the recurring monthly apocalypse. Know this date dear friend. Know it well. For it could spell the difference between life and death. Laughter and tears. All functional limbs vs broken ones. It’s vital to know when you need to shut up, stay out of the way and apologise at 30 second intervals for being alive.

10) 19th November - International Men’s Day

You said it! We finally get our due. Women get a day. Mothers get a day. Every dog has its day. Heck, we’re pretty sure that leprechauns have a day dedicated to themselves. But finally, someone out there has recognised the work we put there to make this world a better place. Regardless of the fact that the objective of Men’s Day is to promote gender equality and men’s health, we’re interpreting it the way we want to. ‘Honey, pass me the remote please. I think my naked butt is stuck to the couch.’

11) August 5^th / Feb 9^th – Underwear Day

It IS a national celebrated day. Perhaps not in our country. But still. The residents of New York and Brazil think it’s pretty damn important to step out in your underwear. And who better to lead the way, than underwear models. (You’ve got to love this planet.) Now if we can just get enough of us to sign a petition to start underwear day right here.

Have a happy period! :-)

2008-11-23T07:06:00.000-08:00

Notice the smiley. It signifies happy times. All because of a super absorbent sanitary pad.

Alright, a quick explanation. There’s a brand of sanitary pads called Whisper. Their new line of communication ends with “Have a happy period!”

It is definitely not a woman who has written the line. Because, if it were, she would have known that IT IS NEVER HAPPY.
Nothing will ever make it happy.

I’m not going to pretend that I know a lot about a woman’s periods, but I know enough to dispense information to lesser mortals.
1) Don’t attempt to make it right. There is nothing to make right. Therefore you can’t make it right. Get my drift?

2) Be nice. But not too nice. And don’t be unsympathetic either. Don’t disappear thinking that if you’re out of the way you’re making things better. I’ve got a rhyme here to help you out if you’re confused.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Don’t think a knock to the nuts is pain, that’s not real pain, you’ll never know this kind of pain you sissy boy, so don’t say or do anything unless you’re asked to.
Memorise that, and you’re good to go.

3) Reference. Never refer to it as “it” or “that time”. I gotten into serious trouble for saying things like “Is it over yet?” As if it were a bad movie. Other things you should avoid saying are
“So whatcha saying is… no nookie tonight?”
“ I’ll come back in a couple of days when the real you is back.”
“The ad said that if you used one of these you could run the marathon. Why arn;t you running any marathons?”

4) If she starts crying, it’s either because her hormones are gone out of whack, or she’s experiencing pain equivalent to poking needles through your spine. Hence it might be prudent not to talk about your own suffering during this time.
For example, don’t come home and say “I got this paper cut today and maaaaan… it hurt sooooo bad.” Unless a truck ran over you, followed by a steam roller, and then a marching band, keep it to yourself. Else, trust me, that’s when you’re going to feel Real Pain.

And lastly, women, you’ve got to let us know what we should be doing, because, in all honesty, we’re clueless. A period, according to us, is this thing --> .
A little education, suggestions on what to do, a list of what not to do, and I think we’ll be one step closer to the illusory happiness that 'they' keeps talking about.

Comments anybody?

Jonathan

Enlarge your twinkie 100$

2008-05-22T11:35:00.000-07:00

Spammers are starting to lose it.
Just last week I got a mail asking me to increase my mortgage by two inches.
What exactly are these guys trying to accomplish by sending us this crap?
I got a bit curious and actually went through my spam messages.
What I found was a goldmine!
If you’re ever having a bad day at work, or you’re bored, or you need to do weird things to your manhood / womanhood, CHECK YOUR SPAM.
Collated a few here and interpreted them so you don’t have to run the risk of opening your own spam.
By the way, I haven’t made up these SPAM titles. They’re all real.
Get ready – this shit’s funny.

Stir up a passion in her heart with your magic wand.
There’s a small flaw here. You can’t really stir with a wand. You can make a bunny appear though, but I don’t think bunnies can help you out it bed. What they should have said is stir up a passion in her heart with your magic wooden ladle.

Huge love maker has become unbelievably real!
These guys are working under the assumption that it wasn’t real before. I have no genitals. My office will not have a problem with me playing with myself at my desk. Because, hey, it ain’t real!

Dont waste your life with your right hand.
What do you mean? My right hand is not trust worthy? It’s the good-for-nothing hand. The one that my mother warned me about? I can’t really walk out on my hand can I? Sure ol’ ‘lefty will always be by my side. But righty has been there through good times and bad. You’re not so bad dude.

Supersize your little babymaker!
What? Do they have a camera in my house? Why is EVERYONE calling it little? What I like about it though, is the reference to burgers at a fastfood joint. Supersize it. With fries and a large coke please. And take-away please, got to make me some babies with me right hand.

Enlarge your PE and your mind will follow!
Hmmmm… PE. What could that be? Enlarge your perimeter?
Enlarge your Penguin? (Do we have penguins on this side of the world?)
Enlarge your Pentagram? (in case you’ve inducted more people in your devil worshipping group)
Enlarge your Peanuts.
I’m going with peanuts. Because, hey, nobody likes small peanuts and small minds.

Your new baby-maker scores more!
Now it’s getting a wee bit confusing. First they say it’s imaginary. Now they’re telling me that ‘he’s’ playing a game down there. And something that they’re offering is going to help him win apparently. Don’t get me wrong. I want him to win. I just like to know what the game is. Volleyball is a definite no-no.

You guys got anymore? I’d love to see them. Just check your spam and paste them here. Ciao for now.
By the way, winner of the cowboy country contest was Alicia Colaco. Beer coming your way.

The Monk Moved Your Cheese

2007-12-04T10:26:00.000-08:00

The hot shot Ferrari driving sonofagun stole it and sold it to the motor cycle repairman (some people like to call him a mechanic).
The motorcycle repairman, who of course, is a part time alchemist, turns the cheese into rum and coke. Because, hey, that’s the way he rolls ok?
I’m trying to make a point here. It’s just that I hate getting straight to it, because that takes the fun out of everything.

People are making money. Tons of it by writing self-help, spiritual books which are convoluted and which everyone claims to understand. And there’s no way I’m going to be left behind. So here’s a little preview of my book titled (drum roll please) “Stop touching yourself. Is that chocolate cake? And, giving yourself an enema, blindfolded – A guide to a better life”.

People will nod their heads in agreement. “Yes, that’s the book for me. Paulo was getting so literal.”

My book is going to be simple. To the point. And totally unrelated. Leave anything vague enough, and there are enough suckers out there to make sense of it.

For Example, there will be an FAQ page.
Problem: In an effort to try and please everyone, I find myself in situations where I just can’t say NO to people. This results in me being unhappy, stressed and with no time to myself”
Solution: Read the book, ‘Who moved my cheese?’ Substitute the word cheese with Beer. The fact that someone is moving your beer will get you pissed enough to beat the crap out of the next person who asks you for a favour. Also, the eagle that flies west is never around for thanks-giving.

See how I covered all bases there? If someone happens to sue me for wrongful advice, I can always say, Hey… didn’t I tell you about the eagle. Then I’ll do my evil laugh. Mooohahahahaha. Sometimes mistaken for a cow mating call, but that’s beside the point.

Somewhere in the middle I will break off into an analogical story. Monks, cheese, mice, alchemists, mechanics have already been taken. I’ve done some quick research ran a few numbers (always wanted to say that) and found out that the character that people are most likely to relate to, is a one-eyed, one legged pirate named Plank. First name Wokda.
The story HAS to relate to life, otherwise it’s just going to sound like one of em wannabe writers, busy blogging their frustrations out. You know the kind.

Anyway, the story will go something like this.
There’s this pirate. Wokda Plank. Who had a parrot called Polishi. Second name Tincrackers.
And this parrot had Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Which totally ruined the pirates clothes that he took the trouble to launder after every pilferage. But the pirate had patience. Oh boy he had patience. He warned the parrot once. Twice. Thrice. Each time thinking that the parrot will soon learn. But it was not to be.
Easter came. And Polishi squawked his last. Captain Wokda missed his tasty friend dearly, but what had to be done… had to be done.
What I am trying to say is, friends, aren’t we really all like that pirate?
Lost. Lonely. Emotionally handicapped. And with friends that have gas problems?
It’s really up to us to be in charge of our own lives. The only person that can make a difference to you , is you.
You don’t need to get your cheese back. Life may be a rat race, but screw the cheese. Find another food group. Don’t let monks intimidate you. Go out and find other wannabe monks who are selling their cars for a song. That way you can own a Ferrari and everybody goes home happy.
You decide how you can make YOUR life. Don’t let anybody else tell you how.

What do you think? Send me a cheque for 1000 bucks and I’ll courier you the whole book. Including the title and last page. First 5 customers will get a free CD – “Greatest *cough* Spaced Out *cough* Covers of the Millennium” including such hits like Annie’s Bong and Weed are the Champions.
Hurry!

Man on the prowl: Men travellers and what they're looking for – in a woman.

2007-11-20T20:53:00.000-08:00

I sit alone at a bar in Ko Samui, Bangkok. The bar is quite crowded, as it should be at this time of the year. But I choose to wait for the ‘right’ company. Ten minutes later a gorgeous girl brushes past me and the rest of the mob, trying to get to the bar table.
Ahh, she wants me. That’s the sign. It has to be.
On her way back I ask her if I can buy a drink.
No. (she wants me to play hard to get)
Would she like to sit by me for a while.
No. (She’s faltering, I can sense it)
Could I have her number?
No. And leave me alone, freak of nature, I’m with someone. (I can see her lips moving. But like a badly dubbed Chinese movie, all I can hear is “Ask me again and I might say yes!”)
3:00 am and eight martinis down, my hopes aren’t the only thing that are high.
Two hours later, I’m wondering why she led me on if she didn’t want to take it further. Women!

Ok ladies, there’s something you have to know about men.
We have a diminished understanding of what we look like and how charming we are. This lack of understanding is heightened outside our familiarity zone.
We take a small trip out of the city, and we’re hit by the James Bond Syndrome.
We become the kings of smooth pick up lines, and we assume women can’t escape the enigmatic charm. I think this is because we are at a place where people don’t know that we aren’t the studly studs we make out to be. For a short while we can assume an identity of someone with confidence and pizzazz.

There’s another thing you should know about us. Ask any man, and you will find that a large number of actions fall into the purview of flirting which you might not know about. Like breathing. Or walking into a club. That’s flirting according to us.
On a serious note though, you can trust us to misconstrue pretty much any look or movement. You could have a weak bladder and be looking for the little ladies room. Eye contact with any male in the room at this time will be misunderstood.
He’s not reading a face that says – Damn my weak bladder.
What he’s reading is – Come hither Tarzan.

As progressive as our society claims to be, we don’t see too many women that drink or smoke in public. It’s frowned upon. If I see a woman lighting one up, it’s going to have my antennae up. “She smokes! Who knows what else she’ll do? Maybe she’s one of those naughty girls that will give me a back rub. I’m going over and saying hi.”

Any show of skin just gives us another reason to target you. You may underestimate the level of desperation if you think that knuckles and toes are excluded. Increase the percentage of skin showing, courtesy short skirts or off-shoulders and more men will come up to you. In this particular case, even sitting with company will not deter us.

Going up and coming on to women whilst traveling is much easier because there’s no fear of failing. We don’t see the harm is falling flat on our faces, because you don’t know us. Or anyone we know. And hopefully nobody those people know. The news can’t spread. Safe to say, Bond can show his face in public again.

What’s it boils down to is, when traveling, reality gets warped. Confidence gets a boost. Libido goes up. Logic comes down. Rules don’t apply. We’ve not only taken a trip away from home, but also from all the rules and realities that bind that life.
You can travel in packs, dress however you want, and try to avoid making eye contact. But the man traveler is on the prowl, and he has packing some pretty lousy pick up lines.
Beware.

Note: I have bever been to ko samui. I have never walked up to strange women soliciting my sexual abilities. I have not hit on my colleagues. I am a nice boy (feel free to read as whipped) who has not and will not fall of the 'committed' wagon.

Why Do men like violent movies?

2007-11-01T21:46:00.000-07:00

(This is something I wrote for femina a couple of months back)

I sit there wide eyed as Arnold Swazewazizname blows a hole through the head of his evil nemesis in Terminator 2. He doesn’t die of course because his body parts are of liquid metal.
My better half looks on with her mouth agape. First at the screen, then at me. And I’ve known her long enough to hear her thoughts.

“Why the hell do you like this insane movie? And if you manage to answer that, then kindly tell again why I’m with you! I keep forgetting.”

I don’t really want to take my eyes off the screen, so I try and answer telepathically too. Apparently I have not perfected the art.

It is only at the end of the movie I realize that the better half had walked out shortly after intermission. It’s because of nights like these that I’ve been well acquainted with the sofa.
To cut a long story short, I thought the movie was nothing short of brilliant.

She didn’t.

All the guys I know love it too. It’s a classic.
Women think it’s too graphic and takes violence to a whole new level of insanity.
Whaaaaat? Do you think the robots should have sat down over coffee and settled it amicably? Yeah, he’ll stop trying to kill you if you give him a good telling off.
And it’s not just this movie. I’ve had debates with women about several such ‘artful’ movies.
What it boils down to is that men like violent flicks. Women don’t.

Why?

I’ll tell you why.
(cue ambient music please)

A couple of thousand years ago before language was invented and when dinosaurs weren’t just a couple of bones super glued together at a museum, men and women had distinct roles.
Yes, yes, we all know this part. Men were the food gatherers. The hunters and the providers.
Women, stayed indoors to look after the kids and, in the absence of inane soap operas about satanic mother-in-laws, did other house-hold chores. Some even dabbled in the arts. That’s where you get cave drawings and hieroglyphics from.

Coming back to the point, men were close to the action. Hunting wild boar, steering clear of vicious lions and bringing down woolly mammoths. Stuff that got the adrenaline pumping and the bones a-breaking.

Now fast forward to a couple of thousand years ahead. The closest we get to hunting is tracking down a mosquito that’s buzzing around your ear at 3 a.m in the morning.
We miss the good stuff.
The testosterone heavy, action packed activity that’s been instilled in our blood.
So who do we turn to for help.
You know it - good ole movies.
And not just any movies. Violent ones.

Give us car crashes. Men shooting at men. Men shooting at aliens. Men shooting at aliens while crashing their cars. Killer cyborgs with catchy lines. Computers that use humans as AA batteries. Zombies that have teamed up with aliens to crash all the cars on the planet.
It’s all good to us.

Women don’t seem to understand this need. They’ll be dragging us to movies about a book store owner that falls in love with an actress. Or a prostitute that falls in love with a millionaire.
Do they have the expertise to crash a four wheel drive?
Have they been keeping up with recent UFO sightings?
Nooooooo. Because they’re too busy falling in love, out of love and back again.
Well , Whoop-di-doo! Never saw that coming did we?

All we need is a bit of action with a semi-decent plot. Safe to say that we’re flexible on the plot part too.

And don’t you think that the gore, explosions, occasional sex scene and fighting isn’t integral to the movie. You might question it, but we’re pretty sure it’s justified.

“Why does a respectable man with a doctorate eat people, and in the most gruesome fashion?”, you might ask.
C’mon…everyone is allowed to get hungry. He just ate what was closest to him - his friends. Give him a break.

“What are the chances of the helicopter crashing into a highly flammable LPG tanker which flips over a couple of times landing close to a petrol pump before exploding?”
I’m come up with a fail-proof formula to calculate the probability of the occurrence.
(N+1)p-3 . N being the number of helicopters in the world. And p being another fancy letter that I had to put up there to sound authentic.
The answer I came up with is - Pretty good.

“Why doesn’t she just kill her counterpart straight off. Why does she need to gouge her eye our and leave a deadly snake lying around to eventually bite the bejeezes out of her?”
Any violence aficionado knows that it’s a metaphor. What the director is trying to communicate is that the world has turned a blind eye to… errr… reptile conservation.
Yes, because we love them reptiles. (Snakes are reptiles right?)

One might also tend to believe that men have been conditioned by society to watch and enjoy violent movies.
We’re not. Trust me, it’s inherent.
Let’s say you have kids. A pair of twins. Give the boy a Barbie and the girl a toy truck. Odds are the boy will be ripping her head apart, maybe using the torso as a plane, whilst the girl has already painted here SUV with soft pink polka dots and invited it to her tea party.

Oh, stop complaining. You’ll be thanking us someday for the screen-attained knowledge. It’s only because of these kinds of violent movies that I have a plan, if, heaven forbid, disaster is eminent.
When monsters of the netherworld are near, if a killer in a hockey mask is on the loose, if a gun wielding mob has blocked the road, I know exactly what to do.

Run.
Scream like a little girl and run like crazy.

While you might have been keeping a close eye on the hero of the movie, I’ve been watching the tiny vanishing dot in the background. The extra who decided not to risk his unmentionables in the battle to save the earth. The one who left unscathed.
I am that man.
He who lived to tell the tale.
And all those who follow suit, are gonna be thanking their lucky stars that I’ve been well informed through the magic of cinema.
And what are the chances of that happening?
Pretty good.

Lucy in the sky

2007-07-03T10:08:00.001-07:00

Probably my Magnum Opus.
By now you guys already know that that's a dog and not a rat.
The white ones are sheep.
Thats\'s a plane with some crows in the sky. So no more stupid questions!

I've introduced a crab called Herby here and the fish - Cajmero - has made it's second appearence.

Any other questions? Compliments perhaps? HUh?

JONATHAN

Parlez Freakin Vous Angalise

2007-03-26T02:27:00.000-07:00

Who makes words?

At first glance it sounds like a ridiculous question.

At second glance, it still sounds the same. And to some of my stubborn friends, it runs well into the sixteenth and seventeenth glance.

But seriously, who invents words? Who said "let 'to be' be a verb! Let this thing that makes funny sounds be called a piano. And this thing that awkwardly juts out of my body be called a… a nose!"

Who is this all knowing authority?
I say we put our feet down. Let's question everything. Let's make our own rules.
Let's chant loudly - DOWN WITH THE ESTABLISHMENT.
And if you're reading this at WORK, let's whisper it.

In my endeavor to create a new world 'of the people and by the people', I've decided to replace some words in the English language, evolve my own meaning of words, and pretty much create my own words. This is a democracy of course. So, let me know what you think.
And I'll let you know where you can 'PUT' your thoughts.

Let's begin.

The wind instrument Tuba will no longer be called tuba, but will be replaced by the word Flatula. The noises are the same, I think the word fits.

The female mammary glands will no longer be called breasts. Instead, I've come up with (drum roll please) ' Thingamajigglelots"

The male organ will hence be known as pokeyhontas.

Diamonds will simply be spelt differently to connote what they actually mean. DieMen.
Since they kill them financially.

Flowers will be known by their scientific name from now on - Sorry Facilitators. All of them will be from the some genus – Fergotyorbuday Heressum Prettytree

The word Pornography, for reasons unbeknownst to me, has been associated with something wrong. I figure it's purely educational, and hence its new name can either be – Howdeydoodat or Wheredeyputdat.
Unless you have something better of course.

Politics. Poly meaning many and Tics meaning blood sucking insects. In all honesty, it's not fairs to the tics. Or any breathing creature for that matter to be compared to a politician. So I'm a bit stumped here. Anyone have a suggestion? Poly_______?

And if you have anymore words that you want to add to Jon's Dictionary, do write in and we'll stick it to the establishment.

Ciao for now.

WHY?

2007-01-16T03:20:00.000-08:00

Question everything.
That’s what they told me. And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing all my life.
Truth 1: There is no ‘they’.
Truth 2: If there was a ‘they’, they wouldn’t speak to me. Even my ‘inside voices’ have to be bribed to carry on some casual banter.
Truth 3: That’s not exactly what I’ve been doing my whole life. There has been a sizeable amount of drinking, sleeping, bad punning, pretending to exercise, nose picking and something that vaguely resembles the birdie dance.

Here we go. Some things to ponder about.
WHY?

Q1) Why is heavy metal called metal? Or Rock called Rock. And people have gone so far as to determine the texture of the said rock, as in – Hard Rock &Soft Rock?
Well, I have, in my spare time, hypothesized on this question and came to this conclusion - Hypothesize is a pretty big word to connote postulate. Postulate is pretty nasty as well.
Back to the point. I postulated that the roots of rock can be traced back to the stone age. Stone Age – Rock? Get it?
The earliest band, I’ve concluded, were Guns & Moses and Def Shepherd.

Q2) Why do people wear clothes?
Seriously. Adam and Eve went on fine. Then they ate the fruit and they were “ashamed” of their nakedness.
Why? There was no one to compare themselves with. For all Eve knew, he was ALL MAN. Even when it was cold. And Eve was the hottest thing ever!
My conclusion. There was no excitement. If you’re naked all the time, there’s nothing to fantasize about. You’ve revealed the plot and now nobody wants to watch the movie.
Suddenly, here a fig leaf. There a fig leaf, and voila! Hot Pants.
Adam- some leather here and there and…. Whoa there cowboy. Looking plenty good!
Eh? We on a roll now.

Q3) Why did the turtle win the race?
Why did he? Was it because the rabbit tripped over the chicken that was crossing the road?
What are we teaching our kids? That it’s okay be a slow poke?
Shouldn’t we be realistic and let the rabbit win once in a while?
This is what I have to say:

½ tblspn salt
A pinch of oregano.
Some tobasco sauce.
Curd and a few spices that I can never remember but are small and look like twigs.
1 tasty rabbit / Turtle / any other fairytale animal.

Method: Roast tasty animal till no hint of fairytale exists. Mix in the other stuff and baste on the animal. Have with generous doses of alcohol.

I had more questions, but after that impromptu recipe, I got kindda hungry. If you guys have any questions avec the answers, do write in.
Ciao for now and all that jazz and stuff.

Tagged

2006-12-15T09:18:00.000-08:00

Iz... stop smoking up!
Ok guys... she's 'tagged' me. And i've got to divulge 5 things about myself that people don't know.
So here goes.
1) I used to like the macarena, some songs from Aqua (yeah the barbie girl people) and even one song from Jessica Simpson called public affair. I hope I don't go to cool people's jail for this.

2) I HAVE to sleep on the right side of the bed. Or on the side that's not against the wall. Toss and turn for 15 minutes trying to find my position and end up on my side.

3) I'm a wimp when it comes to extreme sports/ events. Can't do bungee jumping. Roller coasters. And yeah, the most terryfing of em all. The Giant Wheel. I just can't take it. I like my legs on the ground. Not forming a bow around my neck.

4) To all my Indian friends - this is a biggie. I haven't watched Sholay.

5) This is a slightly embarassing one. Even though i'm from Goa - I can;t hold my liqour. 3 drinks Max. Then the loud off key singing. Then the 'not related to the conversation' insults. And then my hands start cramping.

The few people that actually read my blog are already tagged. Orange Jammies, Karen, Prashant, Prado, if you actually come back here, you're it.

Are you an ISH-ER?

2006-12-03T00:54:00.000-08:00

So I’ve quit my job.
And that leaves me with a lot of time to think.
Here’s proof that that’s not such a good thing.

Are You an ‘ish-er?’

I’ve discovered this of late whilst talking to a friend of mine. She said “I’ll meet you at Seven thirty-ish.
Ka-ching Ka-ching. Goldmine on the loose. And I found it!

Seven thirty-ish. What does that mean?
7:31?
7:29?
7:50?
It’s open to interpretation. And here’s the good part. We can customize ISH to fit (read as ‘get out of’) any situation.

I’ll show you how.

o Of course I love you-ish.
o Yes, I remembered to plug in the life support system-ish.
o I didn’t sleep with the white house intern-ish
o Yeah I know how to play the electric guitar, blindfolded, one hand tied behind my back and whipping up Duck a l’orange with the other, whilst calculating the value of pi up to 72 decimal points. Ish.
o Pull my finger. I promise I won’t fart - ish.
o I love your cooking! Just like my mom’s. – ish
o No I don’t think you’re psychotic-ish.
o Yes Jonathan – I love your blog. –ish.

Accomplished ishers usually disguise the ish within a cough. It’s takes a bit o practice. But you’ll get the hang of it. Let me know if you have anymore situations. Or if you’ve used ish successfully recently.
Now it’s time for me to take my pre lunch post early morning nap - nap. Ciao.

Cinemagic

2006-11-26T22:38:00.000-08:00

It’s like all the scriptwriters refer to the same book. Look up some formulae, put some of them together and voila. A movie.
Uno Problemo.
Too many scriptwriters, too few formulae.
Hence ladies and gentlemen, the origin of clichés.
I’ve documented some of these & titled them for your reading pleasure.

1) Dead Funny Guy
The comic relief in the horror/thriller movie has to die. Being a pseudo funny guy myself, I find this unfair. I hear ‘we’ don’t even get paid much. ‘You’ guys totally take us for granted and I’m calling for a strike of all funny people. Ok, back to the titles.

2) Dead Daddy Cop
Any cop, especially a retired one pulling out a photograph from his wallet that oh so lovingly portrays his wife and kids will be dead in the next 15 minutes. His partner of course will then get some nookie and later on avenge his death. Oh yeah, throw in an incompatible new partner for good measure.

3) Friggin Peekaboo Kitty
This one really bugs me. Horror / Thriller movies. Against all logic and reason, the soon-to-be-dead-person decides to SLOWLY look under the bed or in the closet.
Looking slowly… slowly… slooowlyy. Kapow! Kitty appears, brandishing her claws and meowing a lot.
Damn you kitty. Shouldn’t you be out getting some with the neighbour’s cat? Get a life. Or 9 of them.

4) I know how you died last summer
When the antagonist goes down, it has to be big. And you’ll know how it happens before it actually does.
If there’s a sharp object in the vicinity, he will get impaled on it.
If they’re on a building, he will fall off it
Budget permitting he will fall through a glass house, into a swimming pool.
Stricter budgets dictate that he will fall on a parked car.
If he’s a specialist at something, he will die at his own game. Evil bomb specialists will be bombed to glory. And killers with hockey masks will be beaten really badly at hockey and hence die of shame.

5) Blabbermouth Baddie
And oldie but goodie.
Tie up the good guy… but don’t kill him. That ain’t fun.
And besides, only 5 minutes of the movie are up.
So you tie him, devise a series of linked operations that will kill him eventually. But before that – reveal your evil plot.
Eg: Baddie ties goodie to a chair. Next to him a candle slowly burns a rope. When the rope burns, it releases an anvil that falls down on a small catapult that launches a knife into the air and cuts off the phone wire. Good guy’s mom walks in a week later and kills him herself for not calling her to find out how she is.
But BEFORE all that baddie says “ So Bruce, you thought you could catch me. Well, much before you die, I’m gonna kidnap the funny guy in this movie and kill him. Because hey, I hate funny guys. He’s gonna be home right now updating his blog, and I’ll sneak in through the window at 11:23 pm and poison his stash of Goan sausages in the fridge.”
Man, I love goan sausages. Mmmmmmm.

6) I’m so hot and there’s no one around to see it.
Hotties wearing skimpy outfits will travel in trains that will be devoid of an other passengers. Incredible as it is, just that one hottie is traveling. If it’s in a city, she will choose to walk down a deserted alley.
Better still, she will choose the shortcut through the park at 3 in the morning.
Why I ask you. You’ve gone through the trouble of swearing practically nothing. Move around places where there are tons of guys! Specifically - soon to be dead funny guys.

Have anymore, write in.
Ciao for now and all that jazz and stuff.

2006-11-17T22:40:00.000-08:00

It's a rhino by the way. And, I tried to get a little more realistic with the sun this time.

Sing Song Sucks

2006-11-14T01:30:00.000-08:00

Hello People,
It's been some time since I've tortured you with my seemingly endless source of crap.
Been busy quitting my job. Yes, it’s a process.
Anyway, here we go again. Have any of you guys actually heard the words of the songs that you listen to?
Well, yesterday as I sat doing my nails, perming my hair and laying out my underwear for the week… I heard this song by someone who goes by the name of Ricky Martin.
And he was singing a song called Shake your Bon Bons.
Question.
What are Bon Bons? Does everybody have a bon bon. Is that a good thing? Is it a gender oriented thingy? I'm pretty sure I don't have a bon bon.
If I did.. I wouldn't call it a bon bon anyway. It's too panzy-ish.
How about that Michael Bolten chappy -"Can I touch you there."
Where Mikey? Please tell us... . If you're referring to my bons bons - the answer is NO WAY HOSEY!Besides... i'm too busy shaking them to kingdom come. Oh Oh.. .and can someone please tell me what the lil boy is saying when he sings.. "You say it best when you say nothing at all."
Isn't that an insult? Isn't he saying… I love it when you shut up coz the birds come out to sing and the sun shines brighter?
Perhaps they’re all metaphors.
Like 2 steps behind - written by the stalker.
Annies Song – written by the alcoholic
Janie’s got a gun – by the jealous transvestite
Anyone got anymore? Oh.. and please do write in if you figure out what bon bons are.
Ciao.

2006-11-05T20:14:00.000-08:00

No, i'm not obsessed with animals doing it. No, those arn't cows udders, it's the sun. And NO, those arn't rats. They're doggies. German shephards actually. Yeah... a yellow one and a purple one.

Modern-ish Art

2006-11-02T22:13:00.000-08:00

Who can weave a story around this one? Extra points for guessing what the woman (yes that's a woman) is wearing.

Passing Thought

2006-11-02T22:06:00.000-08:00

I think cancerians have the short end of the stick.
Why do we have to be named after a fatal disease?
I take that back - VIRGO's. Now they have a fatal disease.

Nusery Rhymes - Part 1 and 1.5

2006-11-01T20:49:00.000-08:00

I was drinking the other day (yeah yeah.. so whats new) and thinking about nursery rhymes. Yeah. Revving up the grey cells.
Serendipity! It struck me like a goose flying north inthe winter. They've taught us to be stupid from day one!
Get this....." Twinkle twinkle little star... how I wonder what you are!" You just said it! STAR!!!! What the f*** do you mean " how i wonder what you are?" Shmuck!
How about.. "Baa Baa black sheep have you any wool? What else you f***ing moron? You think sheep start growing nylon after 40 and a couple of more years it gets to silk? And you've got to double check by asking the damn sheep? Like he's gonna tell you the truth!
Sheep: "No Jon.... it 50% wool and 50 percent man made fibres... do not wash in hot water or give to the dhobi" Hah! Double hah!
I got one more. A phrase. "A stitch in time saves nine"
Nine what?
People?
Are you trying to tell me that instead ofsending in the troops to iraq Bush should have sent in a couple of hundrerd seamstresses????? What the bejeezes is the world coming too. And i've only just begun scraping the surface! Your comments are welcome!
The Seer,
Jonathan

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

Conspiracy! ... it's all coming to me.. in a flurry! Like lots of horny roosters chasing a harrowed hen. So yesterday.. i started a little early celebrating of the ending of the week ( wednesday's not all tha far from a saturday) and after a couple of beers at 6:30 in the evening (the sun was still up!) i jotted down a coouple of more things.
So if you ain't fed-up of Jonathan's ruminations. here are summore.
I've got more of them society's screwing up our mind thingies. ... For example : Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after.
What the hell WAS JILL thinking? She saw the dude falling down and cracking his nut. Probably suffering from multiple fractures. Brain hemorrhaging... and she’s going.. Hey that must be fun.. let me try it! Halloo? I’m sure they didn’t go up there to fetch no pail of water. They were probably went up there to light a joint, when jack said.." you know Jill babe.. I can fly"
And she say.. " uhhh...No way dude"
And he says.. "yeah babe...I show you" .Oops.
And then Jill didn’t want to be left out. So she spreads her hands out ,, says.. look at my big bird impression and down she goes too!
How’s about Rock a bye baby on the tree top….. when the bough breaks the cradle will fall.. down will come baby cradle and all.
Take into consideration… this is a child who’s suffering from a sleep disorder we’re talking about. So what we’re telling him is - We’re Gonna put you high up on a branch, …if you suffer from Vertigo.. I care a rats ass. Then I’m gonna take a chain saw and hack off the branch but blame it on the breeze. And you’re gonna come falling down till *splat*. Okie Dokie.. Gnite sweety!
Oh by the way.. i'm working on my own nusery rhymes that are not only intelligent but realistic... coming soon.

Part 2 - Explanation to nusery rhymes

2006-10-31T21:43:00.000-08:00

Dear People,
I have a friend whom I shall not name (Nicola Bush, Fairmont, Dubai), who sort of has an explanation for nursery rhymes. She says… perhaps they aren’t all that idiotic after all. Perhaps they are symbolic for something much deeper. Get the drift?
So letzee….Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool, yes Sir yes sir 3 bags full, one for my master, one for my dame.. and one for the little boy who lives down the lane. So… Assuming Sheep is code for drug dealer. And the kindergarten kids singing the rhyme are shitting bricks coz the Drug Enforcement Agency is on their case.. so they have to sing in code. And these kids are asking the drug dealing sheep how much of maal he has. And he claims he has three bags. But his wife needs to smoke a joint.. and so does his dad and he’s thinking of rolling one for his granny (a.k.a little boy down the lane).Hmm.. kindda fits in, but I’m still a bit skeptical coz I have a friend who’se granny says she and her friends hate pot and they just stick to extasy. And why would a sheep need to peddle drugs to support his own habit when he gets all the free grass in the world. Debatable

Human Vacuum

2006-10-30T11:45:00.000-08:00

Today we’re going to talk about being FAT.
Fat is but a state of mind. Just like poverty and good looks.
And at the end of every month I find my brain constantly telling me – Jon… you poor, poor ugly bastard.
Now, as I look down and see my navel, where my feet used to be, the truth seems to hit me hard and bounce of my paunch like a crazy ball on steroids. (I was never good with similes and metaphors)
I used to keep telling my friends. “Of course I have a six pack. They’re just piled on top of one another.”
Others suggest that there are much more than 6 hiding in there. Funny.

Assuming that my “friends” have some basis in calling me lumpy, let’s get down to identifying the causes and stemming them.

1) Vegetables: Veggies make you fat. This is a personal experiment that I’ve conducted and has no scientific backing. From past experience, the scientific community tends to distance itself from me. Go figure.
So I’ve tried this. French Fries. Capsicum stuffed with mince. Extra lettuce and tomatoes on my burgers. A few more peas in the fried rice. Even gone to the extent of enquiring about the price of karelas (bitter gourd).
Nothing. Nada. Zilch. No weight loss. Just another notch on the evil messenger (the weighing scale for you think schmucks who don’t get it). Vegetables are our enemy.

2) Exercise: I’ve tried everything. Spot jogging in the lift. Crunches on the escalator. Toe flexes while I’m sleeping at work. Nothing there either. And if it weren’t for my hip flask, I’d have died of dehydration. Or Sobriety. Either ways, exercise is a no-no.

3) I don’t really really have a 3rd point. But I would like to take this opportunity to state that DIET is an anagram for I E(a)T. (for those of you slower than I am, I have slyly removed the ‘D’ and added an ‘a’. Clever eh?)

I’m a fatty. And that’s the not so bare truth. Well, at least I’m…. ….. damn.. just realized there’s no positive side to this.
As usual, feel free to criticize, curse me, or generally talk about the weather.

voyeur

2006-10-30T11:22:00.000-08:00

If you're wondering what's in the sheep's hand, it's a pair of binoculars. I think i'm improving, whaddya say?

Wild on Goa

2006-10-18T06:57:00.000-07:00

Please note that the airplane has hit the bird this time. I've tried to get a little neo-modernsitic, quasi-impressionistic and pseudo arty by adding that flower. Your criticism is welcome.

The Unmentionables

2006-10-18T04:31:00.001-07:00

This blog contains explicit language and discusses sexuality in depth so if you're below 18, close your eyes.. and have someone else read it out for you.

So I was travelling to work today and this Chakh (Eunuch) "strokes" me and asks me for money. If you've been to bombay, you've been through the drill. What I don't understand is... What the hell is their claim? What are they saying? Give us money because we're women? That's not a claim! It's not valid!
And what gives them the right to touch me? Because they're women? (not that women are standing in line to touch me. Or even look at me). Well I've got news for you... If you look down buddy, you'll find woody wood pecker! And woody says your not a woman!

And that brings to mind another connundrum (damn I love the thesaurus).
I understand the technicalities involved when a man wants to become a woman. I mean.. all they have to do is choppy choppy down there and if they want breasts.. there are always implants. Here's the curve ball.... What happens when a woman wants to become a man???? Ehhh... gotcha there didn't I?
Where do they get equipment from...( or as I like to call them.. Bert, Ernie and Big Bird). I passed this question around the office and got loads of unacceptable answers ranging from thumbs, carrots and secret underground BIG BIRD banks.
So if anyone out there got a clue, please enlighten the rest of us, because we got no work and are waiting patiently at our comps (when not surfing for porn).
Till then,
Ciao for now and all that jazz and stuff,

Legal Bullcrap

2006-10-16T04:47:00.000-07:00

Ola people!
Today I’m going legal.Questions from legal fields to which I really don’t have any answers to. Not that I have the answers to any of the questions ever being posed to me. I don’t know if any of you guy really know this, but sometimes I fake it. No kidding.

Oh.. and by the way… I’m treating everyone who decides to reply to this blog. Beer. And I’m not talking about the stuff I distill in my room. I’m talking about real beer… that doesn’t make you see polka dots on your unmentionables after a couple of sips.

Anywoosies…lets start.

Legal contracts.Why the hell do lawyers have to make things so complicated.
So I was reading this contract the other day. They don’t mention anything by their real names so as to make things simpler. Or so they say. So there’s Party A.. and There’s Party B. And so on and so forth.

Now take this into account. Hypothetically speaking, imagine all these dudes were really talking about a party. And Michael is allowed to go to Rakesh’s party and have Alcohol. The contract would say something like this.Michael - henceforth... known as “Party A”, is permitted to enter the legal premises of the aforesaid party, from now on known as “Party” conducted for non commercial purposes by Rakesh from now on known as “Party B” and is legally permitted , at the PARTY to consume alcohol from now on known as “Spirit A” , not to be confused with spirits of the supernatural kind. Ceterus Paribus.

Oh yeah.. you have to end everything with a Latin phrase. And you can even make up shit.

Swallowed everything so far? Now… hypothetically speaking (as always), there are hundreds of people involved. But there are only 26 letters in the alphabet. So, to describe someone you’re gonna have to have a combination of alphabets right? Do you get to choose really cool names then? Get a load of this.
So Jayee, Reagan and Beverly can come to the party as well.“Jayee, Reagan and Beverly from now known as Smarty Party, Party Farty and Party Shmuck are hereby, herewith and alongwith permitted for all social purposes to join Party A for the Party if, and if at all, invited by Party B for the Party wherein there shall be Spirit A, considering that Party B is not having Spirit B and Spirit C which really goes better with coke. Holy Shitus Magnificus.

Incase you’re having trouble with Latin.. I’ve provided a small non-patented list which you can use incase you ever draw up a contract. Feel free to use them.
Ratus Bittis my-asses
Upp-em yors-es.
Underwear Tightis
Bunnies humpalotis

If you got anymore legal crap you wanna add on… feel free.Next time we’re gonna talk about why Judges wear those weird wigs,what exactly does the steno do and why do lawyers have to wear teddy’s? Isn’t there any other lingerie they get to choose?NB: All names in the newsletter are fictitious and any similarity between real life people is purely coincidental.

PS: Dont' give me flak for writing 'anywoosies'. I'm under a lot of stress.

WORK - wat dat?

2006-10-12T02:42:00.000-07:00

Ola people!
How’s it goin? So, we’ve covered the Arts, family ties.. this week we’re gonna discuss work.
W-O-R-K. ‘The’ dirty 4-letter word. It sounds filthy every time I say it.
Downright blasphemous.
Work - a lousy way to make a living.
When did it all change? I remember a time when all you had to worry about was if the guys are gonna let you play football with them in the evening or is it going to be another evening of Hop Scotch with the neighbourhood girls.
And now –
Where is my career heading?
Is this what I was meant to do for the rest of my life?
Which month am I getting paid for anyway?
That HOT chick in accounts would look really cool if she didn’t have a moustache.
And there’s other crap like trying to figure out what language the people in your office are trying to speak.
Yesterday I heard my boss saying.. Jonathan.. we’ve got to get the T.P’s (transparencies) to our H.O. (HEAD OFFICE) so that they can start working on the C.G (computer graphics) A.S.A.P.
Oh.. I really hate ASAP. That’s the worst one.
So I turned around and told her, “sure… but hold on for a sec while I go for a P. and perhaps catch some Z’s and after surfing some P.O.R.N.O.G.R.A.P.H.Y.” Ok perhaps that last one didn’t really gel.
Oooh Oooh… yesterday I had this conversation with my brother.. and while describing his job said he was to embark on a project that would involve…(hold your breath)…’Crystallising the Offings’.
So I said.. dude… why’re you going around buying jewellery for other peoples kids?
And he says… No No my dear ignoramus. (I didn’t get that one either)
It involves projects that are not really projects, and I’ve got to make them REAL projects by crystallizing them.
Comprendez?
Non Signior.
Ok.. straying away from corporate jargon.. what about Time Sheets? Have any of you guys ever filled out a time sheet. Not me.. I never had the good fortune to fill one out.
For those of you who don’t know what a time sheet is, it’s a Break up of each working day and how constructively you spent it. And after a period of time, management uses it for appraisals.
I figured out what my time sheet will look like.
10:30 –11:00 – Getting sensitized to work surroundings.
11:00 – 12:00 – Catching up on daily world events to progressively broaden my world views (read the paper)
12:00 –1:00 – Analaysed my past eating habits and after drawing a pie chart, figured out what the present days consumption would be. (ordered lunch)
1:30 – 2:00 -- Lunch
2:00 – 4:00: -- Siesta, which of course is an integral part of any work place.
4:00 -- 5:00 : Surfed Porn, which of course is an integral part of any work place.
5:00 – 6:00 : Worked on the Pepsi campaign.
6:00 – 6:30 : Watched some TV.
Work.. it’s hard…it’s lousy… but somebody’s gotta do it.
If anybody’s got some kindda anecdote about work… do write in. You know what .. even if you don’t still write in anyway. Say something like.. "Hey bro... you're of freak of nature. Cheerio then!"
It helps boost morale around here.

Superheroes. Are they really super?

2006-10-08T23:56:00.000-07:00

When you need a shoulder to cry on, when you need the support and the help , when you think any type of assistance is a distant forlorn dream, you can be sure he’ll be there. Superman. Ok Ok.. I know I’ve talked about this before but it has never been opened for discussion. How does Superman Pee? Oh Batman for that matter. And Spiderman.

Let’s start with Superman. One flaw which easily misses the naked eye is… he wears his underpants on the outside. So he’s on his way rescuing a puppy from a burning building and the need to make wee wee makes its presence felt. So he flies down to an ally, pulls down his undies… and ….whoah… what’s this. Pants underneath. And they’re skin tight. And that’s another thing.

You too Spiderman. Where in the world is your Zipper? Forget about the wee wee thingy, how about getting into the damn thing? Do you just fit in through the collar? All of you through the collar?Ok… here a tricky one for you. Does invisible man wear clothes? He can’t right? So basically he goes around naked. Unless he has one of those cloak thingies. I’m not sure. But if he doesn’t… then basically he is a nudist. For all you know he could be flashing people all over the world... and we call him a super hero! Yeah right pervert!

And who does this guy date anyway? I bet it must be weird... even with invisible woman. I bet she looks at an empty couch… having long conversations… thinking invisible man is a ‘good listener”. But this dude left after ten minutes to make a sandwich and to flash bat-woman. Lucky bastard.

How about superwoman. If she’s feeling ‘special’ does she wear lingerie instead of the customary red undy on the outside? Oh crap, just got this weird image. Superman in a red thong. Getting with the times. So many questions. Anybody have any answers?

Do write in,
Jonathan

Whatcha doin?

2006-10-05T07:51:00.000-07:00

Summore of my master pieces. Please note the bird, plane, tree and sun.

Family Matters

2006-10-05T07:43:00.000-07:00

Comme Ca va? ... Marhaba… teshek delek. Nihao…Howdy!
None of those are made up. I’m making progress huh? I was once known… among the literary cirles as ‘multi lingual Jonathan.’ Primarily because of the fact that I could say “Holy shit” in exactly 2 languages.
Anyway, still on the lines of subjects of substance, today’s blog is about family ties- ties that bind, and strengthen and ties that are sometimes used for kinky sex. (focus jonathan... focus you horny bastard.. family ties.. not neck ties)
Ok….Ever since I was 8 years, my parents have been pleading with me to run away from home. Heehee…those jokers. Mom… dad… you were joking all those years right?
But seriously. have you ever thought about it. The subtle hints that your family gives you, subconsciously or not, to express how they feel for you. I have kept a log of events of such SUBTLE hints….
1 year old – One brother learns how to spell the word ‘asphyxiation’
1 year and 1 day – Learns the words ‘asphyxiation’ and ‘younger brother’ and tries to use them together… physically.
2 years and 3 days – Other brother… the kind soul that he is.. ties to send me to Jesus. Via garbage disposal.
5 years – ‘Supposedly’ got myself lost in the supermarket. The fact that my folks told me to run down the vegetable aisle, close my eyes and count to 100… seemed a bit fishy. When I saw them getting into the car and speeding away before I reached 5… proved certain suspicions.
6 years – Family dog bites me.
6 years 1 minute – Family dog starts chewing the door mat. Rumour has it that he was trying to get the previous awful taste from out from his mouth. Go figure!
9 years – Family buys a rotweiller. (Hmmmmm… why does he have a glazed look in his eyes. And why are they forcing me to play…'blow in the sweet doggies face’. And why am I the only one playing?)
Anyways.. it goes on and on. Infact Just the other day I received a bill from my mother asking me to pay for rent for the first 13 years of my life, food expenses…stationary.. the bill also includes 9 months rent while she was carrying me, and incidental expenses for labour pains. Hehehe.. funny Ma.
Ahh.. family. Who can survive without it. It’s a gift. To help one cope with life’s problems and deal with all the lemons life hands out.
So, if any of you guys wanna share with us anecdotes, stories et al about your freaky families, do write in,

Waiting, Ciao for now and .. blah blah blah

Cheeze

2006-10-05T07:33:00.000-07:00

Some of my art. Keep in mind I have no formal fine arts training. This is all pure talent.

Aesthetics

2006-09-29T00:43:00.000-07:00

Ola people, Que Pasa. fuenta wiggy,
Ok.. maybe i made that last one up.
Sooooo another day, another blog... another reason to take those cyanide pills you've been saving for a special reason.
Ok... so i have this friend who claims that the topics selected for the blogs are MYOPIC. So i did what any self respecting pseudo writer would do. I ran home and quickly looked up MYOPIC in the dictionary -- Short Sighted.
Hmmm.. so i sat down, meditated, pondered, deliberated and.... nothing. All i could think of was super heroes, cartoon characters, nursery rhymes and who invented rubberbands. (Even that was stolen from someone else.) Just think about it. If rubber bands weren't invented.. how much fun would bungee jumping be. You'd just go down. That's it! Just like sky diving.. but without a parachute.
Anyways.. enough of rubber bands.
Last weekend, i went for the Khala Ghoda Festival in town. An exhibition of the arts. Ahhh.. something worthy of a blog. ART.
A couple of things here that need to be questioned and analysed.
Dont' these guys know how to colour within the lines? Watsup dudes? You're supposed to be artists. I'm no art crtitique extraordinaire, but i'm sure when you draw a river.. let the blue paint stay in the river. Not out into the mountains.. onto the frame and finally onto the exhibition wall.
Atleast that one chap painted a river. The next one was philiosophical. Deep. A canvas.. painted orange.
One shade of Orange. Period. One square canvas.. painted orange. WHAAAATTT! Do people get paid for that? And guess what... it was untitled. Can you believe he had trouble naming the painting.
Letsee.. this is a tough one. If i had to name it.. i would name it... "Nightmares and dreamscapes"??? "Flights of Fancy"... oohh oooh.. how bout this.
"FREAKING ORANGE CANVAS!"
It' gets better.
Next artist. He's takes an x-ray. And framed it. No jokes. But he does add his creative brush stroke to it. On the pinky toe, he put one tiny red dot.
Go figure. My brother (who's on the same tangent as these artists) seems to think he wants to denote cancer of the pinky toe.
I think he got some ketchup on by mistake before framing. Your guess is as good as mine.
I've already started on my set of canvas's. Even booked the Jehangir Art Gallery next week. This is what im gonna exhibit.
A sea blue Canvas with two tiny giraffes heads in the centre - titled- "Noah didn't see the rocks."
A red canvas - tited - "The spiritual and sadistical cold war between green and yellow."
A couple of horizontal lines - titled - " Horizontal lines"
Broken wallnut shells on a yellow canvas - titled " I'm in agony.. who broke my nuts?"

I need a couple of more ideas for exhibits.. so if anybody has any... do send them in as fast as possible. The more insane the better. I'll split the profits.
Ciao for now and all that jazz and stuff,
Jonathan

Dog Happiness

2006-09-28T02:49:00.000-07:00

Happiness. Yes people, i thought we should get a little serious for once. No more nusery rhymes, stupid proverbs and nonsensical suggestions. I'm talking about serious introspection. Are you really really happy with your life? You know what I wanna be. I wanna be Dog Happy. You notice how they're on top of the world just by sniffing someones butt! Then they got that tail wagging thing going on, and they'll jump up and down just because they sniffed someones posterior. That's all it took. No parallels drawn to other dogs leashes or clipped nails to measure their level of happiness. No.. they're not materialistic. I'm not saying that I want to start sniffing people's behinds to get a high, but I want to derive the same ecstasy out of the simple things in life. Just like how a dog gets ecstatic when you put down the window while driving and he sticks his head out, I want to stick my head out and get ecstatic . Yup.. stick my head out of my BMW and get delirious. It's the little things. I wanna own property by just by peeing on the place. Just like a doggy marks it territory. Just imagine .. you're walking by this huge sea-facing bungalow, you like it - just spray the place.. and it yours! Wohoo! No worries about Title deeds, mortgages, house papers.. and money. Someone says... Wow what a place yours? You can say proud and loud Yup... just peed on it yesterday Of course, thinking aloud now, you might want to electrically charge the fence to your place afterwards to ward off future pee-ers. OK OK I know what you're thinking. You're saying Jonathan what about that castration and neutering thingy. That might hurt a bit. Well, I say... small price for the rules of doggy relationships. No commitment required. One night stands are just fine. And there atleast nobody thinks you've lost it when you howl after passionate wild intimacy. Not that I howl. Loudly. It's more of a whimper actually. Nevertheless, I think I got my point through. The two legged animals got this whole happiness thing wrong. Take it from me (nooo noo.. i have two legs as well) derive happiness from the smaller things in life, and it'll be much more fulfilling.