THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN PORN AND REALITY

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.

PUBLISHED IN MAXIM, November 2011, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

COUNTRY ROADS, KILL ME NOW

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.

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.”

PUBLISHED IN MAXIM, November 2011, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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

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.

Published in Maxim, August 2010, All Rights Reserved

11 DATES THAT EVERY GUY SHOULD REMEMBER

*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! :-)

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$

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

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.

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?

(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

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