The disgruntled onlooker's insight into the life(or whatever) in the USA

Part III: Rated R.

One fine evening when I was in the middle of a very interesting class(well, the lecture was not very interesting. But the blog that I was reading on my laptop was, quite), my phone rang. Rather started vibrating. Now, I don't exactly know how girls who keep their cellphones in jeans pockets feel when it vibrates. I would definitely like to know. Although only for the sake of increasing my general knowledge. But let me tell you this, its not quite a nice feeling for a guy. It sort of sends down shivers through one's ba*ls(remember the post is rated R). So I couldnot sit through it, went out of the class and took the call. A heavily accented American lady verified my name and kept on uttering loads of gibberish of which I could make no head nor tail. After a few minutes I heard "you get a free Playboy or a free Maxim magazine every month". Elated, I promptly said "yes! yes!". And the lady hung up. For those imbecile dimwits who have no clue as to what "Playboy" and "Maxim" are, I promise a pictorial tutorial at the end. For the others, its just a bait to make you read through to the end. Hee haw!

Two days later I received a letter stating that I had agreed on a contract with some publishers to receive 4 magazines for a period of 60 months in exchange of 17$ a month. Of course I had no idea of this. And it was also mentioned that I get a free "Playboy" magazine each month alongwith those 4. I, with a heavy heart, called them up and explained that I don't have any needs for any magazine. And there went my contract. And my free "Playboy" too. I, for once, considered asking if I get to keep the free "Playboy" but decided against it. Good senses prevail, they say.

Now, I practice what one of my well-wishers taught me. Whenever the phone rings and I pick it up to hear a heavily accented American voice, I promptly say "call back later, I am having sex!".

Ohhhh! Here are the pictures...........






P.S: Ahhh! To get one of those free!! I mean the magazines, not the girls :-P The girls wouldn't hurt though.

I was swooning with delight yesterday. This morning all the yayness died as I was hit with another bout of loose motion. Now, thats what I call hitting under the belt. Since then I have been living on a generous diet of nun chinir shorbot and "meklin" pills. Somehow the beef sandwiches don't agree with me. They just don't. For no apparent reason. This is the third time this has happened. And I am not sure if this is the last. At least not till I have those "buy one get one free" coupons for beef sandwiches.

Yesterday was great , though. I turned an year older(sob sob!). Only a few remembered. And fewer called. Most importantly, they all were people who I wished would call. Or remember. I bunked classes. Remained indoors all day. Spent a lot of time thinking, staring blankly at the television, reading and watching two Bunuel films. Didn't even bother cooking. Ordered one beef sandwich for lunch(yippeee! I got another free) alongwith french fries and coke. My Albanian flatmate went on a date with an Albanian girl and after coming back, jokingly said "the girl asked to say hello to you". I answered "what else did she say? that I have the longest d**k she has ever had?". To this the guy didn't reply. Then I drank a little whiskey, alone, to my health. That didn't help though. But still, the whiskey I enjoyed. And went to sleep(which was hampered by the aforementioned bout). Overall, this has been one of the best birthdays I have had. And, I am sure I will be having quite a few similar birthdays in the forthcoming years. To that, Amen!

A very happy birthday. To me. From me. Yay!!!!!!!

No matter how he tried,
He could not break free.
And the worms ate into his brain.

Land Ho!

Hopes.


Futility.


They go hand in hand. Sadly.


But the joker parties on! And the fool removes things from tabletop-s and laptops.


Words.


Memories.


Emotions.


Three things you cannot wipe off. For everything else there's toilet paper.


And still the joker sings merrily. And the fool shouts "Land ho!" in midsea. The world pretends that he's right.

The disgruntled onlooker's insight into the life(or whatever) in the USA

Part II : Of whiskey, hotchicks and pain

Okay. That’s what a lot of whiskey does to me. Now, don’t laugh. Or else I may cut you into two. Hnu hNu baawa!

As for hot chicks, I have got two very serious reasons for not uploading any photos. First, this space is too limited for all of them(And alas! My kind self can't tolerate to see any one tight-ass big-bosomed beauty being preferred to another). Second, I generally, while taking pictures, concentrate on other parts of their body than the faces. So some people might even find those innocent pictures a bit "aesthetically jarring".

Huh! If you thought that I would again start my usual teary-eyed "raindrops keep falling" stuff with the pain part, this time I have you fooled. Yippee! The pain comes roughly twice a day. Once when you have to eat something for the lunch and once again when you have to take dinner. Cooking is a serious concern. For people like me, who have always had plates full of wonderful food put in front of them(even when you don't exactly feel hungry) by loving mothers and grandmothers, it is even worse. Believe me. Even if you are starving, the very thought of cooking something for yourself can be very disconcerting. In one way, actually it can be good. Oversized PIGS(poor Indian graduate students) who can't afford to eat out regularly and who can't manage to cook regularly, it actually helps them to reduce some extra flab. In maximum scenarios, the survival factor : MAGGI!!!!!!!!! And yes, I can cook very tasty maggi, that too in three different flavors!

P.S: That's where I go if I don't feel like cooking. Sometimes I go there even if I feel like cooking, if there's a generous friend hanging around with me.

The disgruntled onlooker's insight into the life(or whatever) in the USA

Part I: A different dawn

17^th August, 2007. The day before, i.e 16^th, was an important day. Very important. Not only because it was my mother’s birthday but for some other reasons too. The night of the 16^th was stormy. But not a storm that everyone could see or feel. It even rained. But again, not the sort of rain everyone would be drenched in. As the storm and the rain subsided slowly in blissful sleep, it started to rain even harder. Only this time, the whole city was wet. The rain continued as I reached the airport around 5 in the morning( As someone later pointed out, I could have written that the city wept because I was leaving. But that is too melodramatic, too much me. So I deliberately decided not to write it). When I checked in, the sun was slowly coming out of the clouds. Then, a long and tiresome and uneventful journey punctuated by red wines and vodkas and whiskeys on the rocks. And about 30 hours later I was standing on a wooden verandah in a house in New Jersey. Watching the sky reddening. Watching the sun coming out once again. Only this time, an American sun on an unknown sky marking a different dawn. And for the first time in those 30 hrs the feeling sank in. I knew I was away from home. I knew I was not going back soon. And it rained once again. Inside.

P.S: This has been long due. Perhaps too long. Especially for someone like me who cribbed a lot about the usual leaving-ones-city-and-roots-and-going-abroad stuff. That too, publicly. May be even to some people’s dismay. But settling down in a new place, getting your internet connection up and working, cooking and above all, getting into a mood for writing, surely takes up a hell lot of a time. That is more or less what delayed this.