Desi Girl Called Isheeta

Bollywood Gold Rush

II'll keep it short and sweet today.

This man single-handedly controls a huge chunk of Bollywood music output/production. Behold! I give you Mr. Bappi Lahiri: Music Director

Thumbs up!

He would give Mr. T a run for his money. So what if you don't have a bucket of water being dropped on your head and flowing off your sinewy washboard abs like John Abraham... you have chunky jewellery to make up for it.

Just in case he isn't doing your head in with all the bling, sometimes he decides to frequent functions with a more retroesque feel that is reminiscent of the American anthem of the star spangled banner. Tis is indeed the mark of a mega-superstar!

Shiny shiny stars... so sunglasses in the night. Form AND function! Muchacho impressario!

This woman, who is singlehandedly one of the most scantily dressed stars in Bollywood out there (Are you listening, FilmFare Awards?), was invited to to launch the opening of an ICE CREAM shop in LA/Hollywood. They were going to name a milkshake/ice cream flavour after her (Madame Tussauds was busy and who wants to eat wax anyways?).

Ms. Mallika Sharawat didn't want to disappoint. She decided to show you that her milkshakes were worth naming.

This woman is just gorgeous. I am left speechless.

I'm sure Ms Kaif was wearing a bikini in this pic, but I didn't want to see it.. knowing Bollywood photogs, they would have made her wear balloons or drop paint on her head so I'm happy at the mere simplicity of this.

This to me is gold.

Warning: VERY Bollywood post

When my sister-in-law was leaving her maiden home and coming in to our household (rukhsati/baraat) for the first time on the wedding ceremony/shaadi night, like most desi brides, she had tears in her eyes as she hugged her family and friends "goodbye". A desi girl leaving her family to start her new life as a new bride in another desi family is considered an epic moment in the girl's life. It's a big deal back home since technically girls do not move out of their homes to their own apartment even after adulthood. I'm sure that does not apply to metros like Mumbai or Delhi, but the household that my sis-in-law is from, this is huge. In MY family, a girl doesn't move out of their homes unless 1) you're married and 2) you're dead. Whichever comes first. Hence, my current situation, and frankly at the rate my health is going, its pretty safe to say option 1 is the default choice (dammit).

So after doing her goodbye rounds, she got inside the car that was decorated and strewn with marigolds and roses and any other concoction of flowers that did not match. I remember I was sitting right next to her on her left, while my brother (her hubby) was sitting at her right. When the moochiwala driver revved up the car, that was the first time I had seen panic in a bride's eyes smack-dabbed with make-up. She had a little niece who was held up by her father, and the little girl started waving good-byes and kisses to her. Her favourite 5-year-old nephew was running with his little legs with the moving car and telling her not to go. Don't go.

I felt like I was an extra in a Bollywood film. I was supposed to look sombre to reflect that moment, but I was more surprised than anything. It was my first wedding I had attended as an adult, ever (clearly I didn't have a lot of people who loved me back then). 

I remember thinking at that moment, GOD this will NEVER happen to me. I will NOT cry while leaving my parents. Sure my parents would be bawling their eyes out, but man-oh-man, I will be so glad saying "in your face, suckas!" to these people who have been dying to get me married off. When I thought of this moment last year as I saw their wedding video, I added some specifics to this moment. I promised myself if they bawl their eyes out during my baraat, it would be justified because these people who I love so much have driven me INSANE with their requests to get me married off over the last few years. It's only high time they go through something like this and feel what it was like for me!

Now that I'm slowly grasping this concept of leaving home eventually/one day - leaving my family to stay with someone else's - it finally hit me:

• my make-up will be in shambles on that day, dammit
• I will be a Bollywood lead instead of a Bollywood extra because I will be crying the loudest.

I miss my parents a lot, more so as I grow older. Even when they're home. It is something to see your parents age in front of your eyes. Parent-child role-reversal: Not recommended.

My parents always ask me to visit them while in Dubai. I say no. When my mom got sick and was bed-ridden post-surgery, my dad begged me to go visit her. I didn't go on the pretense that I was looking for a job, even when I wasn't actively seeking it. And when I did think I needed a vacation, I visited my best friend in the States instead. I had friends come over and I entertained them. My dad cried like a baby for me to go visit her.. and I went a year later.

I cannot imagine being a parent, and living through that empty moment knowing your children won't visit you EVEN when they have money AND time. I put my parents through that.

I have been living that moment in a continuous loop for the last little while. It hurts like a bitch. (Also, not recommended).

When my time comes, to leave my home, to leave my precious parents (for someone else's), to leave my parents who ... YES, do mean more to me than my own life (but whose value I couldn't even fathom even when they were sick), I don't know what I would do besides reliving that moment in continuous loop about how I have disappointed them when they really needed me the most.

I am not thinking ahead, ok! So please don't laugh at me and say I'm thinking too fast when I am not even close to this, and who knows what life brings. I know I don't know what life will bring in the future but I definitely know what life had bought me in the past, and to know that you had wasted or thrown away whatever good tidings life had bought you is reason for someone to wilt away with regret. So I'm trying not to do that, but clearly its a big fat FAIL at the moment (hence, the Bollywoodish post).

Also, my cramps are killing me (thought I'd just throw that in with the melodrama).

To break, or not to break

2 weeks ago, on the phone

Dad: So how is it that you dumped Sandwich? 

Isheeta: I didn't dump him, Dad, he dumped me.   

Dad: Oh. Well, you don't need him, he was too slow.

Isheeta: Yep, don't need no slowpokes!

Dad: So who's next? 

Isheeta: Ummmm, I don't really--  

Dad: Cuz YOU don't need to be a slowpoke either!

Isheeta: Dad, I just need a break now. I'm not really looking. I'm tired of this shit. I don't want to. I need to get over this. I just want to relax and not think about this, ok?  

Dad: Yes, yes, sorry, you're right. You definitely need a break.   

Isheeta: I mean, I thought there was something there, you know. But clearly I was wrong. I put in a lot of effort there, and when you put in a lot of effort, you need time to recover and reasses and figure out what to do next. 

Dad: Well, the only thing you have to figure out is who. 

Isheeta: . . . . . . . . 

Dad: Ok, you need a break. Take some time out. Don't stress. Don't worry about money. We'll be home soon.                  

Isheeta: Awesome. 

Dad: So we're coming home on the 16th.

Isheeta: Ok, just email me the itinerary and I'll pick you up. 

Dad: So that means you're on break till the 16th, yeah? 

Isheeta: . . . . . . . .

===================

Today, on the phone

Dad: I met a young lady at the bank today. She's much older than you. She just got married a few months ago. Do you know what she told me? 

Isheeta:  No, dad, what did she tell you? 

Dad: Well, her hubby is 7 years younger than her. SEVEN! 

Isheeta: Wowza, times have changed!   

Dad: Exactly! So what's stopping you?  

Isheeta: Cuz I don't want to support a kid fresh out of uni or write out an instruction manual?  

Dad: What?   

Isheeta: Nothing.  

Dad: Try to find a guy from Dubai too, they're not as slow as the guys as in Canada. How's the search going?       

Isheeta: There is no search, I'm not looking, remember, I'm --  

Dad: oh, well, can't waste time, y'know?    

Isheeta: . . . . . . . . .(Ross Gellar moment: I AM ON A BREAK!!)   

Dad: Here's your Mom.         

Mom: So your dad met this young woman at the bank today, well, shes much much older than you, but you know she says just stop wasting time and just find someone and get it done with, you know?

Isheeta: . . . . . . . (fucking bank people, since when did they stop begging you for your money and give out matchmaking advice on whims, if I get my hands on her scrawny neck)   

Mom: Canadian guys are slow too, daarpokes, even if you find someone younger, just go ahead! So are you looking now?

Isheeta: Well, since you really want me to look, I have to admit that I met someone...

Mom: ooh!

Isheeta: In fact, he seems really nice. Very smart, articulate, intelligent, hot...almost like Obama! Yum yum yum! Oh he's black, thats cool, yeah?

Mom: He's black?

Isheeta: He's black.

Mom: We're not black*.

Isheeta: No, we're not. Will Smith is, but we're not.

Mom: Ok, you need a break.

(*reaction would have been the same if I mentioned the guy was white/asian/eskimo... anything non-desi so please do not take out the pitchfork just yet). 

Isheeta in Dubai

I've been here for a little over a week, and I've got a little less than a week left to go. I have to say, if there was a moment in recent history where I've been the happiest, it has to be now.

Well, more likely, yesterday, when I hit up the beach.

Its funny how something that is not a part of you can make you feel like you've never left, like you're at home. I wish life were like the seas... the waves welcome anyone from anywhere in the world, and they don't discriminate when they lap at your feet. I could have spent a lifetime just staring at the water. I don't think I've ever been so happy and so content in such a long time as I was yesterday.

I didn't feel any loss. I didn't feel any loneliness. I didn't feel any longing. I didn't feel neglected. I didn't feel ignored. I didn't feel lied to. I didn't miss anyone. For anything, for anyone. It was just surreal to just let go.

I've been reading me some Sylvia Plath too, and I can't help but relate with her short, tormented life. I'm not sure if my being here, by myself sometimes, is a good or a bad thing. All I know is, I love it, and I'm not really sure if I even want to come back to the hustle and bustle of the selfish, North American life. I have a few good friends there, yes, but, sometimes you need more than just a few good friends to tug at your heartstrings.

Like a beautiful beach and the beautiful warm sun!

To the most important man in my life

Sorry Brad Pitt, you're going to have to sit this one out.

Growing up in a family of testosterone, I was the quintessential daddy's little girl. I wouldn't say I was spoiled, though, because my dad wasn't around too much during my childhood to spoil me (he was always overseas).   And then by the time I entered my teens, my dad made sure I never felt left out from his little corporate empire by assigning me budget reports. Day trips included, literally, taking inventory of containers of shipments - fair share like my brothers.

I think he bought me my first doll when I was 16 - by that time, I didn't even know what to do with it. I mean, what DOES a teenager do with a doll???? Coming here to Canada was a refreshing change. I got a break from work. It was like a dream - living the North American dream, just like the sitcoms on TV like Wonder Years or saved By the Bell! Rows and rows of identical houses in the suburbs, white kids wearing shorts and going to summer camp in the summers where they are teased mercilessly for their braces.  Proms! Dating. Archie comics were a reality! People going to schools in cars, or walking, or biking, and not being driven everywhere by drivers!  I don't know about my brothers, but having been an avid observer and reader of everything foreign, I just never took anything for granted. I had a lot of leeway from dad when I was in uni by this time. When my parents started a business here, I was so anti-family work that I didn't even step foot in the store. Everyone worked, except me. I was going to be some hotshot desi doctor or lawyer or engineer and would never have to do my version of child labour ever again!

Haha, that didn't pan out very well.  I think in between uni and delayed teenship, I somehow lost my way. I was just soaking up everything that I didn't know existed. It didn't stop then... after I graduated, I realized there was a whole world out there waiting to be discovered. Travelling!  Extreme sports! Night outs! All I did growing up was go to school and work. God, I was living a pleasure-less existence. There are kids in less developed countries who have far far less... who endure child labour by the time they can walk and who have to work ALL their lives to support their families. I have watched such kids grow up in my home country, and while I was grateful for my life, I just wanted to experience everything before my bubble burst. And because I was the only girl in a family of testosterone who probably would be ready to settle down sooner than you can say hello, I had to step on it!

It's been like that since. (Until of course, the snafu called looking for work turned up. Whateverrrrrr.) I'm one of those people whose last words before dying will be that I've experienced it all... all the good things in life! I think somewhere along the lines, I became a hedonist. Or lazy, I don't know. I like working, when I have work. And I'm pretty focused in something when I'm motivated to do it. 

Yesterday, I dropped my dad off to the airport. My dad was with me for a little more than a month this time around. It's been the most important test of perseverance for me. I don't think I've ever cried more this past month than my entire life. I cooked and cleaned every day. I came home early every night. I think I have watched a record number of crappy Bollywood films, so I have met my quota for my lifespan. I wanted to gouge my eyes when I had to endure an ocean of blue-eyed Indian soap stars in super-white filtered, vaseline smeared screens (that would give Barbara Walters a run for her money) dressed in their impeccable 100,000 Rs house saris complaining about why Payal's shaadi to Abhinash's brother-in-law's cousin's friend couldn't make it to the wedding because she was killed off by her evil mother-in-law who didn't want the incoming baby in her stomach to be born because ..... I don't know?!?!?!?!?! I took my dad to a few South Asian festivals where bhangra dancers danced with belly dancers as some young desi boybands crooned love in the ghettos with English and Punjabi (or was that hindi?).

The most excruciating part was the listening-to-advice part (Shameless plug: please go to Farah's blog for the importance of this). My dad never did a Masters or a PhD. He didn't have a rich daddy to fund his education. He was good in swimming (a lot of floods), so he swam in swimming competitions. He won trophies, and he would sell the trophies for money. He didn't go to camps, he didn't read a lot, he didn't dream about foreign countries and sit in front of his computer and apply to jobs over the internet. He got fired a few times from work, so he got fed up of being fired, and he decided to start his own business. His idea of extreme sports and travelling included smuggling himself in some ship that was travelling to countries where business opportunities lay. My dad never sat around and complained. He didn't read self-help books to learn about life or to figure out why people fuck you over and over again. He learned by observing people. He had to make sure his business survived, so he always worked. That helped him develop a keen intuition about business and life. But he never gloated about it. He just said it as he saw it. He was good to his friends - he gave his best friend a job in his company, and they both made names for themselves eventually. He didn't date (well not a lot, haha). When he realized he needed someone, he got married. Then he had kids. He didn't have a lot of money when he had us kids, but he didn't worry. He just figured he'd have to work extra harder for his kids.

I always remember how hard he's worked for us kids when I see his hands shake. They always shake now -  when he is drinking his tea, when he is driving, when he is injecting himself with insulin, when he is helping me in the kitchen by stirring the dishes ALL the time so we have curry juice instead of chicken curry! I think it has to do with age or his diabetes, I dunno (doctors, what say you?). He can reprimand me for all my career or boy choices, and I could get pissed at him, but when I see his hands shake, I am always reminded by all his silent sacrifices for us - for a better life for us - when I remember how a little boy who had nothing but his swim trophies increased my chances of a better life by giving it his all. How he got himself out of his little muddy house in some village in the third world to make sure I live in some mansion in a first world suburban Canadian neighbourhood where I get to travel and enjoy all the luxuries that he never did.

I don't know why is it that parents do so much for us. Maybe one day if I ever get to be a parent, I'll know. Right now I'm clueless. It's got to be some crazy gene that dictates this, because it really cannot be governed by rational, acquired decisions. Why would a parent keep giving and sticking out with you for so long after you continue to ignore their sane advice? If a daughter cannot see and learn from all the experiences that the parent has experienced, what will it take for the daughter to learn? Why is it easier to listen to strangers' advice, but you suddenly become deaf when the person who was responsible for bringing you into the world is giving it? Why do I feel like a lemming doomed to jump off that cliff, knowing full well its the point of no-return?

Why am I such a drama queen?! Why do I think so bloody much? Why do I have more questions than answers? Why can't I see that light? Why can't I find that damned job? No, we've discussed that to death, no more job posts, gaaaawd, give it a rest Ish!!!

Where was I?

Oh right, the airport, dad, tears, remorse. Everything jumbled up, all over again, just like a Bollywood flick.  *sigh* Where is the reset button for this life thing?!

(I'm fine, really, thanks for your concern! I just had to get it out, thats all).

In other news, anyone in Quebec/Ottawa??? I want to go whale-watching. I'm sick of the usual blubber in the mirror. Please leave a comment if interested.

desiFEST invite

Hello people of the world.

Thank you for the last post comments. Bless you all.

I'm sick as we speak. (this is when y'all go awwwwwwwwwwwwwww and send me chicken soup money)

I'll put it out there.

Who wants to go to desifest Toronto? (Sat May 31). Its some desi festival in Toronto. D'oh. Please google it, I cant be bothered to. Im so sick. And such a cry baby when sick. My mom's not even here :(

Anyways, if you want to accompany me, meet me, exchange pleasanteries, laugh at other desi people, meet random screaming infants, eat overgrilled burnt corn, have diarrhea with greasy samosas, take pics of you in various angles to put it up on facebook (I effin hate facebook now piece of shit) yes I will be your damn cameragirl, if you want to give me a job, network (I dont know what I have to offer honestly, just my 10000 watt smile and my insane sense of humour), bitch with me, GIVE ME A HOLLER. I dont have any friends who want to go with me, so ...err, Im asking you. Yes, I admit, I HAVE NO FRIENDS. Happy now?! Man. That wasnt so bad.

I don't care if you're a guy, girl, or a plant. We might even go watch Sex and the City together. YES!!!!!!!!!!! (Tasmanian?)

Leave a comment. Your email is safe. No one can see it. Except me and my all-seeing eyes.

Stop. Bullshitting. Me. Part 2

I wasn't going to post about this, but I need to bitchfest so badly at the moment that if I don't, I'm afraid my head will fall off and explode and splatter my laptop with blood which will not be a very pretty scene to clean up.

Warning: excessive swearing. I will not be very lady like here. If you don't like and will be pissed off, please leave now. I will not apologize.

So I met this guy, totally out of the blue, when I had nary a hope of dating any other man on this planet. I didn't give him hope's bells in getting past the first date because we all know my track record is by now half a date at the most.

But like a true charmer, he did win me over. I'm such a sucker for good manners. There are so many assholes these days that if you so much as open the door and pay for dinner, chances are I will think you are the Dalai Lama. He met me one day, and then he asked me out for the next 3 days.  And when I implied that no, sometimes people have plans consecutive days, he implied that maybe it means that she's really not that into him and since he is true metrosexual sensitive guy, that would sorta hurt.

And since he was SO DAMN AMAZING, and I didn't want to play any dumb cat-and-mouse games with him, I complied. Like a true subservient stupid foolish dumb South Asian woman, I complied. He called me every day like a dutiful husband to be, and I never missed a call. I laughed at any and all dumb jokes. I listened to any and all dumb conversations that had nothing to do with world news or events, that had nothing to do with anything of MY interest, that had nothing to do with travelling, that had nothing to do with pop culture, that had nothing to do with anything I liked. I listened with an open mind. When he stressed that he just didn't want to play games and wanted to get into a relationship, I listened. He even implied that maybe I should meet his little niece and family. I did everything that an old married couple would do, even laughing at the funnies together .. we did everything except the bedroom benefits.

A few days later, he tells me that... I... *sniff* that I'm clingy.

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.
.
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After taking extreme precautions to give in to HIS requests for night outs.. to coffee meets... to random meets... to random phone calls... to not hurt HIS feelings because I was under the assumption that we were on the same wavelength...  I was being told that I was needy.

THIS, to a woman, who chews guys out the first date if they are so goddamned boring. This to a woman who needs to clear out her calendars to get a toilet break. I never even told him to call me every day! to go out every day! SO NOW IT IS MY FAULT THAT I GAVE IN TO YOUR NEEDS?!

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS FUCKING WORLD?!!!!

Now I just got a call. And I was explained. Apparently I was too available. Apparently I was too bubbly and active for him. Apparently I just gave in too easily. Apparently I have all the virtues and traits to be a loving mother, but I am not good enough to be commitment material because I AM TOO FUCKING THOUGHTFUL about other people's needs. Nobody likes some dumb nice bitch. Apparently for a relationship to be borne into fruition, the MAN must love the woman MORE than she loves her. Who gives a shit that woman are genetically pre-disposed to be the more loving and nurturing gender... no, that is utter cockshit.  In order for a relationship to work, the MAN must love the woman ten times more than the girl will ever love the guy. Apparently I MUST play games INITIALLY, no matter how many times they say that they dont like mind games.

I have no idea where the fuck people come up with such piece of shit. What the fuck is wrong with them?! I hope and pray these people stay single for the rest of their pathetic lives. I hope they never have kids and..... oh wait, if theyre 60 when they have their first born, I guess that means they'll be dead by the time the kid can speak. Awesome. I hope this happens to every Tom Dick and Dickhead that have such fucked up reasoning in their uneducated brains.

My life will be so much better if I were to live in a world where there are only shoes for amusement. I am sick of dumb stupid dating games. I go to a date after like 2 months and I get my heart bitchfried on. I wasn't even looking. I didn't even want to do this. But what do I do? I do it. Gah. I've even told that to my parents, and then they set me with dumb potatohead morons, who look and sound like something the crocodile spewed out. And then I get more and more crankyness from random relatives and family. And then I have to resort to this piece of crap lifestyle inundated with dates. I just want to be a nun now. I am through through through with life. I am so happy just doing my school shit so I can be a corporate slave and just travel the world one day and maybe get eaten by some cannibals in the Amazon rainforest one day. That is now my life long dream. Anything is better than this. I have no interest in sex. I have no interest in kissing. I have no interest in relationships or other forms of lies. I am sick of crying and wondering what the hell is wrong with me or what the hell is wrong with the next jackass on the street. I am sick of making an effort to listen to utter bullshit only to be told that I am the one thats bullshitting. I am sick sick sick of these fabrications and these mating rituals that makes arranged marriages look like a game of musical chairs. I am sick of men. I am sick of playing normal. I am sick of being so thoughtful and then getting slapped in the face because apparently I am too nice???? WTF is that about? I  am sick of people who say they dont like games and then they do just that.

Why don't people just do what they say?! Is it so wrong to be honest for ONCE in your life?! You won't die from being honest, trust me! It's worked for me! And I'm still alive! Yes, it is one long bloody existence, but you get to sleep at night knowing that you dont have to remember any lies!

I don't get it. I just don't get it. WHAT DO MEN WANT?! Why cant they just figure it out first without messing my bloody head first?!

Utopia

The problem with being an idealist is that you get fucked around a lot.

In the literal sense, you dirty pervs!

Look at Abe Lincoln (happy belated President's day, Americans, I didnt even know this existed until a few days ago). Look where his idealism got him - he gets blown away for pissing off a lot of non-idealists. Look at Gandhi - guy wants to change the world, and he gets first dibs at the martyr throne instead. Look at all the religious leaders.. you get the drift.

Now before I get hate mail..... sorry, Im a bit pissed off at the moment, so if I can be hatin, I suppose you should too... let me tell you I am not equating myself to a martyr. I am however, despite what this blog may tend to show otherwise, a goody two-shoes. I may talk the talk, and pretend like I walk the walk, and act all tough and not give in to having random losers wanting to call me from Minnesota and dancing in my lingerie, but the truth of the matter is, I have no game.

A professional shrink (yeah at least this blog is good for something!) told me this ;)

And when you have no game, the fact of the matter is.. you take everything as face value. You put a lot of trust in people that you don't even know, which is preposterous because thats like voting blindly for an election... and you reap the sorrow of your uninformed decisions later on. When I meet someone, I usually think the best of someone, without even questioning their motives.  Because usually, I am under the assumption delusion that everyone is honest, everyone is hurt, everyone needs love... blah blah blah understand them so they can understand you and all that crap. 

You really live in a glass bubble, when you're an idealist.

And then you get shitted on a few times... well, make that a gambizillion times, and people tell you to wake up and smell the roses, and then you realize what a horrible ugly world it truly is. Why would you want to save such an ugly world in the first place?

I don't know why. Why does God tell us that He will forgive us over and over and over again, for all the sins that we've done, if only we ask him ever so sincerely? What propels him to do something so illogical?
By the same token, why do you we keep on having such blind faith in so many things that seem to only give us temporary happiness?

You know, it is REALLY flattering when I meet guys younger than me wanting to take me out to dinner / Burger King (I'm serious, been there, done that!). It's really nice knowing that for some people, age is nothing but a number. I wish more girls thought like this. Because as it turns out, MOST guys don't really give a shit how old you are. But I'm sorry, even if pigs flew and truffles fell from the sky, most girls will always think there is something wrong with the girl being older. You know why?

Cuz its been ingrained in them, especially by their precious beloved parents, that the girl has to be older.

There is some biological / philosophical reasoning to this... of course a guy *should* get a younger girl... kids, biological clock, girls mature faster than boys etc etc etc.... but  ...

I don't know what to say. My parents gloat in the fact that I don't look my age... yet, when dipshit auntijis from the community look past me as a suitable prospect because I happen to be a tad older than their precious mamma's boys, DESPITE these guys looking like bloody unclejis themselves....my mum does a hell-hath-no-fury-like-a-mother-scorned-business.  She lets them have it. She won't show it to me though, because I guess she feels I will be hurt and all.... which is nice, props to mum but I really could care less. You would think seeing that, having gone through all this herself, she would give a girl who isn't older but fairly close to it a chance... for my brother.

What does she do? She turns the other cheek. She acts like every other mum.

I don't know where people get off thinking like this. I know its a dog-eat-dog world. I know if you don't screw someone, you will get screwed yourself (you're da bomb, JT!). But... ugh. I love my culture and all. I love it. But this double standard that is so prevalent and so in-your-face that co-exists really embarrasses me. It is pretty disgusting.

But also in a way, its pretty self-serving and pretty helpful.  Double-standardness prepares you to have more common sense to accept the ugliness of life. It lets you have more inner strength and brains to look past the superficial facades depicted by some people. Yay for double-standards!

So with that in mind...I hope one day, when I do eventually look my age, my parents aren't surprised if some guy looks past me because of a number that seemingly will characterize everything about me... again. I hope you're ready, mum, with that other cheek.

An ode to a desperado's blue balls

Names have been changed for obvious reasons, but the laughs will remain to highlight the cream of the crop that inhabit a certain "social networking site" (not fb):

New recruits

I must be looking less hideous these days, because I have noticed random people being a little *too* nice to me.

Unfortunately for me, most of these random people are more blogworthy in a thumbs down way than the  gushing worthy way.

The stats on these people are as follows:

-guys younger than me: No, make that *much* younger than me. Like about 5 years. I know I should be flattered that in my age I'm still able to attract guys who were just coming out of their mother's womb while I was in kindergarden, but somehow robbing the cradle these days just doesn't do it for me anymore. Especially if your cradle comes equipped with jeans that are hung low.

-smokers: all those govt sponsored stopsmoking helpline ads are going nowhere, because these people who are looking me up are also smoking up a storm by spewing out their own private chimney. And of course, with my luck, they somehow also gravitate towards me. How nice of them. And because I don't want to be rude (how nice of me), I don't fan away that tar-laced air with my bare hands like I usually do. I mean, I shouldn't judge... it's their lungs, its their personal choice, as long as its not in my face, you know. Do you know what's really funny in such scenarios? When they ask ME... if I have gum. Like, shouldn't YOU be carrying gum, if you're thinking of talking to a girl while being a choo-choo train?!

-desi guys that wear coloured contacts: *shaking head* . *sigh*.  Ok. First of all, WHY. Why.... do brown guys do this? This really makes me cry. Ok, I admit, I have gone through the coloured contacts phase when I was in love with Ms. Rai. From Dec 2004 - Feb 2005. I have pics in my IshAlbums to prove this. However, one day when my own cat with green eyes ran away from me, I took a good look in my mirror and decided that  "na uh, this just wouldn't do, Ish." I decided to accept my ordinary brown eyes with my ordinary curly hair. Agreed, a lot of people I know look very good with multicoloured contacts all the time. Even brings out their features. But when desi guys who ask me out do it..... I dunno... ok, its a metrosexual look... but... I feel sort of... weird. Especially when they look hot with them. And you see them all the time with them. And you are attracted to them. Because they look like Mr. Roshan from Bollywood.  Even start wearing it like their everyday accessories. And then one day, you see them without it.

And then... instead of accepting them as they are with their normal nice-looking eyes, somehow you feel like you're seeing a guy who is really not comfortable in their own natural skin/eye.  As in lacking in confidence. And then you're just not attracted to them anymore. Plus they look really weird with their regular eyes now.

I don't know. If its ok for girls to wear it, it should be ok for guys... BUT.. I guess its just me.

-guys that drop the f word to make a point (not because they are pissed off or anything): I'm not even going to discuss this. I'm just going to say I'm getting old.

-GO Transit bus drivers: No complaints. They are nothing like the TTC guys. I love them, especially when they ask to be your valentine. (it's ok, I didn't do anything stupid after).