I’ve been trying to write…. Really I have.

I think I’m broken. Really broken… not down there. Some of you people are sick I tell you.

27… Twenty Seven…. Tick Tock Tick Tock. There goes the clock Tick Tock.

While I do feel stupid sitting in my house drunk and writing this, I’m more than confident I’ll feel a lot more stupid when reading it tomorrow.

Random Admission #1: I will admit that being drunk definitely puts you in touch with your thoughts.

In retrospect really not so random an admission. I feel like one of those guys that make a living stating the obvious.

On a quick side note the damn song “Feelings…” is looping in my mind.

Right now I’m deep in thought and the one thought that keeps coming to the forefront is that I don’t fit in. I’ve tried to fit in, but really I just don’t think I do. Now, while its possible to conceive why I wouldn’t fit in physically, me fitting in figuratively is just as big a problem. Of course, one could pose the question why try to fit in at all? Definitely something to think about, I shall continue to do so and enlighten you with my findings at a future date.

Oh by the way I’m drunk cause we’re drinking at the new apartment: The Cave of Solitude (CoS). Time passes by very slowly in the CoS except on Sundays, where it goes by a little too fast. Damn Monday Morning Blues. Either way, the slow passing of time makes for some seriously long drinking nights. As a result, I think the alcohol being consumed is a lot more nowadays. Something to think about.

I’ll be going to Milan in a week for a conference. I’m so broke I’ve decided to come right back instead of staying a few extra days. My mother and friends think I’m barmy. I probably am, after all how many times do you get a paid ticket to Italy? Seriously though, Milan is expensive! Euro’s are way over-priced. Why can’t the Indian National Rupee be stronger? There is a conspiracy at foot. “They” want to keep me broke and then have me get drunk contemplating how I’m ever going to buy my first car with a six figure price tag  in USD (Toss up between a Ferrari and an Accura NSX). I could probably start saving by giving up the drink, but like I said it’s a conspiracy.

Random thought balloon #1: How many of us have slept with women that are a zero on the HCHHSSTT scale? Or better yet would you admit to sleeping with a woman who rates a zero on the HCHHSSTT scale or would you rather admit to wearing womens underwear? Trust me, either way you look at it, not very pretty.

Random thought balloon #2: What do women think when looking at an ugly naked guy? They’re supposed to be less shallow than us Manly Men, I wonder how true that is. I’m sure the thought that goes through their mind is more like “What the fuck am I doing here???” Or “I could do so much better???” Or finally and my favourite “I’m going to kill my shrink tomorrow!”

Yes, I have issues. I know this already and so do you. Which is why you keep coming back for more. I understand that this blog is your guilty pleasure, the way I look at it is it can’t be half as bad as “Grey’s Anatomy”.

Why am I writing this “junk”?

Like I said, I think I’m broken and can’t write anymore. I’m just hoping this fixes me, at least a little. Doubt it, but one can hope right? Just like the New York Knicks are hoping for Lebron to sign with them in the off season! I think I’ll probably get laid before that happens.

Hmmm, interesting thought: Would I rather get laid? Or have the Knicks sign Lebron. Damn this is hard. I might have to go with the getting laid and letting my team stay in Basketball purgatory. The sex better be good!

On the flip side if you gave me the option of dating a girl who is a 9 on the HCHHSSTT scale or owning a Basketball team? I won’t lie, I’d go for the Basketball team.

Could you even fathom owning and running the New York Knicks?? First thing to do is to hire Patrick Ewing as head coach! Would it work? Maybe or maybe not, but wouldn’t it lift the curse of mediocrity that hit the team since the Knicks traded Ewing for Glen Rice?

Does anybody even remember Glen Rice? I just had to Wikipedia him to find out what happened to him. Talk about a curse… Bambino my arse! I think we should bet on this. Well this, or we could bet on which would happen first, the Knicks signing Bron Bron or me getting laid. I’m pretty sure we could get some good odds on these.

Just found out my roommate (BWSP) spiked my second beer with Whiskey. I’m really not sure how I feel about that. Thankful since I’m actually writing, also thankful that he likes women and not men. On some level the spiking of drinks is a scary thing.

On the flip side, if I wasn’t such a lazy drunk, it would never have happened.

OK, seriously and I mean seriously, this getting “older” thing just sucks. I don’t want to turn 27. I want to stay 21.

Twenty one is the perfect age. When you think about it, everything is at it’s peak when you’re twenty one. My libido peaked at twenty one along with my already screwed up metabolism. I had what people liked to call “potential”. It’s the legal age to drink and drive, you can drink till your catatonic and not feel the hangover effect the next day, I would never start balding and finally did I mention my libido would be at it’s peak??

The problem with aging is that we only get to spend one year at the age of 21. What would be fun was if you spent one year at every age and then when you turn twenty one, you stay twenty one for the next 21 years. You know that sounds like an awesome idea? Just think, if this was the case, I would still be in my early twenties. Sigh, this is proof that God did not make us in his image and has a very sick sense of humor. If he had, I’d still be in my early twenties!

So while I do want to write about the rigors of turning 27, the amazing memories that came before it and the lessons learned this year. The truth is, I’m not ready to write that yet. I’m going to get there and when I do, I hope it will be worth reading. If it’s not, nobody can complain since I do this for free and all you would’ve wasted was 10 minutes on the toilet.

One thing I do want to write about is that I’m not a drug dealer.

I believe me writing about my drinking and smoking up might have given people the wrong idea. I think people have got this idea that I’m a regular pothead and maybe even a dealer of sorts. I had a friend that reads my blog call me over for lunch and her exacts words were: “Why don’t you come over for lunch and bring some stash with you, this way we can eat, get high and talk”. Keep in mind, I’ve never smoked up with her.

I’d like to take this time to reiterate that I am not a drug dealer, I do not supply “stash” to anybody, nor do I carry it ever and most importantly I do not smoke up…  often!

Just because I did it in Goa does not mean I’m a regular “Pothead”. Having said that I’m thinking about trying some mushrooms, with my imagination and the power of a hallucinogen, it would make for a very interesting time. I’ll keep you updated on this front. I’m thinking clowns and zombies might just come to mind. Damn, now I’m going to start dreaming about clowns and zombies attacking me while I’m on the pot. Crap, like the cockroaches in my apartment didn’t already make things bad. Right now, I’m swearing really really loudly.

By the way, for all my female readers (I know there are one or two of you out there!) I’ve been asked to share something with you. One of my readers has asked that I share why us “Manly Men” love our guys night out. There really isn’t a rational explanation for it. Or at least not a rational explanation that would keep me out of trouble.

The irrational explanation is that we just need it. It really doesn’t matter if the man is married, dating, engaged or simply a fuck buddy. All Manly Men need a guy’s night out. I don’t think I need to repeat this again.

It could be because of society’s norms, or maybe just an inborn need to hang out with other men and exchange war stories.

It could just be that when you’re with a group of your closest buddies, you don’t worry about them judging you. Nothing can beat the freedom a guy gets from getting drunk with the boys, making a fool of himself and then recalling the story years later.

Let’s be honest if we did that with women, you would divorce, break up or just stop being fuck buddies with us.

Now, I’m sure there are a few women out there that understand this and are fine with it. To you ladies, I raise my hat.

To the ones that don’t understand it, well you should really try to just live with it. After all, we’re pretty forgiving about the fact that you need a closet filled with over 200 pairs of shoes, and the fact that a pair costs only $5 is not a justification.

You’re probably curious about what happens on a guys night out? I guess I could tell you that all we do is go to a club, pick up and make out with as many women as we can, and at the end of the evening the guy that hooked up with the most women would get a prize. But, it wouldn’t be true.

What really happens on guys night? We get drunk, light up a cigar, and talk about women.

We talk about the women we’ve slept with, the ones we wish to sleep with, the ones we are currently sleeping with along with rating each and every one of them on categories that range from “singing voice” to “What position they would look best in when having sex?”.

Sometimes we end up at a strip club, at which point we will continue to rate the women there and compare them to the women we’re currently dating, want to date or have dated while getting lap dances. While it may get graphic on occasion, it’s nothing that a normal man won’t think about.

On occasion, we have been known to go as far as checking out women at a bar and making intricate plans on what would be the best way to get their numbers and end up in bed with them, unfortunately most of the time we never really come close to carrying out our very intricate plans. I will admit that if we spent half the time that we spend making these plans on solving the hunger crisis in Africa, well let’s just say there wouldn’t be a hunger crisis today.

More often than not, nothing exciting ever happens and we end the night wishing we had spent it with you and if you’re single like me? Well I end up wishing I had a significant other.

This is when the drunken dialing happens and really I don’t understand why the “married” guys in the group just don’t take the phones away from the single guys. It would save us so much embarrassment. I think it adds to their entertainment.

And if you’re next question is going to be “Why do you keep going back for more if most of the time nothing exciting happens?”

In the end the only people that truly “get us”  are our closest guy friends. Nothing beats spending time with your closest friends and talking about the past, the present and the future and what it means to us and where we’re going.

What’s better than a night with the boys, smoking a cigar, drinking a beer or some scotch, listening to some tunes and just talking about the most inane things? In my serious opinion? The only thing that may come close is sex with a girl who is at least an 8 on the HCHHSSTT scale.

By the way for those of you that think, a guys night is spent trying to one up each other and see who has the biggest balls, well you need to grow up! The last time we did that was back when we were 21!

Which reminds me, I’ve been in the hunt for a drinking buddy. Now this is completely aside from “guys night”. I need a friend that I can drink with during the week, should I ever get really frustrated with “life” and need to blow off some steam. Fine, I’ll just come out and say it, I’m looking for a female drinking buddy.

Let’s face it, every guy needs one. When you’re drunk, it’s nice having a good looking women sitting with you, drinking with you and talking to you. Best of all you don’t need to be dating her.

What am I looking for in my drinking buddy? Not a lot, it’s really the simple things that I need. Stuff like:

- They should be available to go drinking at the drop of a hat. I would do the same for them. However, the drinking buddy will not be forced to drink more than twice a week not including weekends of course. This is a crucial point.

- The drinking buddy cannot stop drinking before I do and vice-versa. As a result she must be ready for long nights of drinking.

- The drinking buddy must be able to hold conversations ranging from “Why Indian women are no fun and always want to get married?” to “The workings of a water heater” and of course “Zombies or Clowns: Which are more dangerous?”

- The drinking buddy should be very comfortable with drinking with me and vice-versa. Bottom line, it should end up being a fun evening leaving you stress free for work the next day.

- It can be a completely platonic relationship, however if anything should develop no reason why it can’t be explored.

- Should it be a completely platonic relationship, the drinking buddy must help in the picking up of HCHHSSTT’s. In other words, be a good wingman. No “pussy blocking” allowed here. Sorry about the crude language.

So if there are any ladies interested and are with me on the “Small things”, please feel free to get a hold of me. Oh and all applicants must be 18 years and older. Sorry, I refuse to get thrown in jail for this.

I shall now leave you with a memory from my 15th birthday:

I was throwing a house party, and invited a whole bunch of friends. Now to make sure the ratio of women to men was 2:1, I invited a whole bunch of women that I didn’t know. One in particular was a girl I had just started talking to in school. I thought she was cute and I figured asking her to come was worth a shot, never really expecting her to actually come to this party.

So any way, there I am at the party, mingling, making sure everybody has a good time. After all I just turned 15 and in my mind the party was going to be key to the success of  my high school social life (if I had known serving alcohol would’ve been enough, I would’ve started drinking a lot sooner!). Anyway, there I was when suddenly standing in front of the door to my apartment was this girl, a vision in orange.

I really do believe that was the first time my jaw dropped to the floor. Never before had I seen a girl like her. To say that she left a smile on my face for a long time after that would be an understatement.

What was she wearing you ask? Well, she wore a really short skirt, a really tight top and a really high pair of high heels. All in Orange. That’s right an Orange HCHHSSTT.

I wonder whatever happened to her? Maybe I should find out and see if she’d like to be my drinking buddy. Never hurts right?

Damn forget 21, I miss being 15!

Wow.

Really, there isn’t a more apt word to describe the Big Apple other than “Wow”.

I think this was a trip that was much needed by me. It’s really help put a lot of things into perspective. As for how much of it I should share with you my avid readers? Well, I’m not quite sure. It’s not that I don’t trust you being discreet. Quite the opposite. I trust all my readers. It’s just that I’m not sure you guys really want to spend the next 5 minutes reading about the sordid details of my trip. I mean do you really want to know about the green cheese cake, honey mustard pork and garlic chicken that my Didi fed me (delicious by the way!)?

Instead, how about I just impart upon you the little nuggets of wisdom that I picked up for myself in the City that never sleeps. Oh and believe me, it never sleeps. The burrito I ate at 4:30 AM will attest to that.

First off, I believe that the HCHHSSTT’s in NYC have raised the bar on the whole High Heels, Short Skirts and Tight Tops bit. They’ve also led me to re-evaluate my opinion on “tights / leggings”. I’ve never been a big fan of leggings. I think they are really stupid, especially when worn under a skirt. What’s the point? I’ll never understand this. It doesn’t accentuate anything and it doesn’t reveal more skin. So how in the world is it a good thing? If you’re going to wear a skirt, no tights should be allowed. If you’re feeling cold, then wear a pair of jeans or accessorize the skirt with boots. Having said that, some of the tight’s worn by the women of NYC – Wow. When you can see things that even a skirt won’t allow you too see, well bravo my friend, bravo.

So yes, I raise this imaginary glass of scotch in my hand to the women of NYC. Keep doing what you do, you all make the world a better place one less piece of clothing at a time.

Oh, I’ve also added a new rule to “Good Strip Club Etiquette”. If you intend to get a lap dance, but just aren’t sure which girl would best suit your lap dance “needs” and you don’t want to spend too much money trying different women, it’s completely fine with going through an interview process. This can entail having a stripper sit on your lap, put their arms around you, and basically leave you wanting more. After all, if the women are there to get as much money out of you as possible. It’s up to you to make sure you do your due diligence and get your money’s worth. Keep in mind, that if you do go through the interview process you would need to buy at least one lap dance by the end of the evening. Otherwise you’re really cheap and don’t deserve to be allowed into a strip club.

By the way, I think the most interesting exchange I have ever had the fortune to be a part of went something like this:

Zaev: (while making small talk with stripper) Wow, you’re flexible huh?

Stripper: You should see me in bed (with a deadpan look).

Zaev: (Blubbering all over himself)

Yes, that is now in my top 10 moments ever and #1 on the list of Strip Club Moments to be Savored.

For those of you that follow the comments section, you all are aware of how a certain reader always comments by leaving various quotes made by some of the greatest personalities we’ve encountered. Well, I’d like to take this moment to use a quote of his on my blog, trust me I consider it a great honor. It goes like this:

“Nothing better than seeing your buds enjoy a strip club” – Sanka 29th Oct 2009.

Those were his exact words and you know what? It sum’s up the whole “going to a strip club with your buddies thing” perfectly. Let’s face it, nobody enjoys paying for a lap dance. It’s demeaning paying for something you should be getting for free. However, when you buy one of your old college friends (who is now 28 and happily married) a lap dance from a very hot 22 year old Russian with perfect skin and breasts (it’s the lighting!) and you see the joy on his face. Well, that my friends is a moment you will savor for a long time to come and like Sanka say’s “Nothing better than seeing your buds enjoy a strip club”. Amen brother.

We’re all aware of the many breath taking sights in NYC like the Empire State building and Statue of Liberty to  name a few, but they pale in comparison to the sight I had of a police officer, the devil and a maid walk hand in hand down the long avenues of NYC. Needless to say they were all female and wore very very short skirts.

Unfortunately there is only so much you can do in four days. You really can’t be expected to see a whole lot and meet everybody, especially when you spend half your time recovering from Jet lag. I really didn’t have too much time to do much except for all the stuff that really needed to be done (Yes, Strip clubs are a must!).

Which brings me to the last and most important thing that I got out of this trip:

We all know this is a city of glamor, glitz, sin, a city that if you aren’t careful will look you up and down, chew you up and then spit you out. However, like the song goes “If I can make it there… I can make it anywhere”.

I’d have to agree with Ol’ Blue Eyes, if you keep persevering and put in the hard work and don’t give in to all the glitz, glamor, sleaze, dirt and hype, you’ll end up a happy person. Clichéd isn’t it? It may be, but this is what makes life so great. The clichés. All of them. No matter how big or small.

To Beige: the man who did it the hard way, who hasn’t given in to the hype, who goes home everyday to a family of his own that loves for him. You my friend deserve all your success. At the risk of losing all my “Streed Cred’, thank’s for the hope.

I Love this City.

Pow!!!

Biff!!!

Bam!!!

Those were the only things missing from the new Batman: Arkham Asylum game for the PS3. I’ve played the game and let me tell you, it’s fantastic. I’d even go as far as to say it should be Game of the year.

The story line, the artwork, the character play, the legion of foes you face through the game along with the little things that true comic aficionado’s would appreciate make for a most stunning game.

For those of you out there with a PS3 and enough cash just for one game this year, I highly recommend picking this one up.

This post by the way is not about Batman. I just couldn’t figure out a way to lead into this post and figured that Batman: Arkham Asylum was as good as any way to start.

This post is about “Hope”.

One of my ardent readers and closest friends asked me to write about “Hope” after my last post. Apparently, even he found the discussion of “Heaven and Hell” morbid and wanted me to write on happier subjects aka non death related subjects.

You never get to old for Hope in my opinion.

You could be sixty plus, unemployed and living off your friends.

You could suddenly realise you are in love with someone who may be your soulmate, but lives thousands of miles away and has no clue about how you feel.

You could be a 33 year old, starting school from scratch and wondering if you’ll get the paperwork to have your loan approved.

You could be in a relationship that nobody should know about, because you aren’t sure how to define it yourself and if it ends badly, it’ll hurt

Or You could have no clue what you want to focus on in your life, and have everybody around you offering advice that they feel you are rejecting.

By the way this is the point where Sanka would say something like “Hope is for the weak! You don’t need Hope! What you need is to go out there and make things happen” and then he’ll quote a famous historical or contemporary person. Yes, my friends are all that predictable.

Interestingly, I almost agree with him. Almost…

You do have to go out there and make things happen. However, you should never underestimate the importanace of Hope.

Do you know why most men go out to clubs, bars or parties even if they know that there will be only one single HCHHSSTT present? It’s not because of the beer.

Or how about the fact that everytime you plan a road trip, you insist that the ratio of men to women be reasonable? Weight distribution in the car has nothing to do it.

It’s because every man wants Hope. Nay, we need the Hope!

At the back of your mind you know you’ll probably end up home alone at the end of the night all lonely,drunk and horny. Chances are most of your friends will end up the same way. i.e. lonely,drunk and horny.

It’s the Hope that keeps you coming back.

Men go out with the hope that something might happen and for once they won’t end up home lonely, drunk and horny (Yes, we think about sex that often and it influences our choices a lot).

The reality is that absolutely nothing will happen. If you went out 5 nights in a row, the chances of something happening on one of the nights is minuscule (Disclaimer: Hugh Jackman does not count. He ruined the curve for us all!).  It’s the hope that makes us all go back for more.

The point is all of us, no matter who we are, need that Hope.

Like I said it doesn’t matter if you are over sixty years old, unemployed and living off your friends. You try to get your life going again even at that age because you are a survivor, a fighter and hope that this time something good will happen.

It doesn’t matter if you realise you are in love with someone who could be your soulmate but lives thousands of miles away and doesn’t even know how you feel. You will continue to hold on to that feeling because the hope is that your soulmate will figure it out and make your “dreams” come true.

It doesn’t matter if you’re  a 33 year old, starting school from scratch and haven’t gotten the paperwork to clear your loan. You’ll keep badgering whomever you have to because you just want to get back to living your life again.

It doesn’t matter that you are in a relationship that nobody should know about, because you aren’t sure how to define it yourself and if it ends badly, it’ll hurt. You keep hoping that it’ll work out because it could lead to something bigger and better than you ever imagined.

It doesn’t matter that you have no clue what you want to focus on in your life, and that everybody insists on giving you advice that they feel you’re rejecting. You’ll keep trying different things in the hope that you get where you want to.

Not all of it works out. You should just hope that some of it does.

OK, so today I heard something very funny and amazingly it actually made sense.

Now while it may not be very politically correct and it definitely is the kind of thing that sets women’s rights back a 100 years it was still funny. 

BWSP, SBB and I were discussing the dearth of women. Well the dearth of women for me. We realized as men grow older it gets a lot harder to find available women. This is because most women get into “relationships” at really young ages and are all taken by the time they get to my age.Now there are definitely exceptions to the rule like the Pact Girl, but on average they start dating very young and end up in relationships for life. 

Note: Keep in mind, I could always try to date younger women. After all I do have a 18 year old sister who knows quite a few young HCHHSSTT’s. However, even I’m not that shallow or desperate… Yet! 

As for the women that don’t start dating young, well they just get really picky. They want their guys to look like Hugh Jackman, be funny like WIll Smith and be as charming and suave as Pierce Brosnan. This by the way is virtually impossible. I mean I’m awesome, but even I’m not that awesome. 

So there we were discussing this theory, when all of a sudden SBB declares the following: “Women are like banking accounts. You have your Fixed Deposits, your Saving Accounts and finally your Current Accounts.” 

As you can imagine BWSP and I spent the next five minutes laughing. Then we realized how true his words were, you may not like it and it may seem sexist, but for most men this would be the ideal way to categorize women.

By the way Mom, I can hear you groaning out loud and wondering how in the world you managed to raise a child like me. Good luck I guess? 

We then spent the next 10 minutes fleshing out each of the categories, which I’ve taken the liberty to post for all of you avid readers out there.

This way all the women can determine which category they are in. The categories are: 

1) Fixed Deposits: These are women whom men like to take home to their parents. One possibility is that they could be daughters of family friends. This is primarily for Indian men as they believe their families would encourage an “arranged marriage”, especially if the girl is a 10 on the HCHHSSTT scale. 

Alternatively, female friends that have stuck around for years, with whom they may or may not have shared a “moment” also fit the bill.

Keep in mind that the two people managed to keep the “friendship” going through any and all turmoil.

By the way, if you spend more time talking to the guy than sleeping with him, it is a good sign.

Men like to keep these around for as long as possible, only cashing in this “account” once they settle on a girl to marry. Some men may even continue the “account” on the off chance they are hedging against a possible divorce. 

2) Savings Account: These are women that men believe have potential. The may date sporadically. 

These relationships are marked by the fact that they are meaningful. Time is spent in equal amounts of  talking and getting jiggy with it.

The minimum time spent with the girl is at least a year. It can be on and off, but it needs to be for at least a year.  

A lot of men see women in the Savings Account category as Fixed Deposits.

By the way I am really scared at how easily this Banking Analogy is catching on in my mind. It’s really making a little too much sense right now 

3) Current Deposits: These are women that most men cash in as soon as possible (By the way that sounds bad even to me). 

You know you are in this kind of relationship if the conversation is limited and sex is abundant. There is very little hope to take this anywhere unless some how the girl makes an impression that the guy is forced to make her a more permanent  / prominent fixture in his life. This is very unlikely.  

Now, I want to take this moment to let all my female readers know that I am in no way condoning this categorization. I just think for most men, it’s really convenient. Does it make it right? No, but it doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be used. 

In a way, it’s a lot like Nuclear weapons. We all know they are bad, we all know they shouldn’t be kept around as it will probably lead to WW III. Yet, every country that can produce them has a stockpile of them. Let’s face it, it is really convenient. 

I would like to take this moment to let you know how scared I am. I just managed to compare “condoning of Nuclear Weapons” to “condoning of a banking analogy that helps categorize the way men “feel” about the women they are seeing”.

I’m not sure if this will make my women readers feel better, but technically you could use this to categorize men as well. Except we all know women aren’t shallow enough to actually go ahead and use it. 

More power to you all. I’m still going with convenience over correct. 

Posted via web from Zaev’s Hole in the Wall

I once made a pact with this incredible HCHHSSTT.  

Everybody makes pacts like the one we have, especially when you’re younger. It’s one of those “If we’re both still single by the time we’re 30, we’ll get married” pacts.

Note: It’s amazing how when you make these pacts, you never really believe it’ll happen. I mean come on, what are the chances you’re going to be single at 30!?! Obviously this changes the minute you get closer to 30, have been single for a while and have no chance in hell of dating a girl, let alone marry you in 4 years. Things sure change as you get older. 

Disclaimer: I’ll admit that I’ve made this pact with a few women. Most of whom today I either don’t speak to anymore or don’t want to get married too.

However, there is one girl who she stands miles apart from them. 

She’s not your usual HCHHSSTT. Sure, she’s hot (definitely more attractive than any girl I’ve ever been with) and can pull of the whole High Heels, Short Skirts and Tight Top bit, but along with that she actually has a brain. She’s interesting, talks just the right amount, knows how to hold her liquor (kinda negates my chances!), laughs at all my jokes and most importantly she is an avid reader of my blog. I think she might even be offended to be labeled an HCHHSSTT – Unfortunately, not every girl wants to be an HCHHSSTT!

You go through life, meeting a ton of people and there are a lot of times, when you think “This person is cute. I should try my luck”. but there are only a couple of times, when you meet someone that makes you cry when they leave (It took me a long time to figure this one out by the way) and only one person for whom you’d call ten different friends in an attempt to get her number so you can drunk-dial her.  

So, I have this pact with her and the crazy part is I’m not even sure she remembers it. I don’t think she does, and does it matter if she does or not? 

I put a lot of thought into this post, in fact I spent the last 24 hours thinking about what I’d write. I know if I had spent another 24 hours, I’d probably do a better job writing it, but would it be as honest and would it really make a difference? 

I’ve told her how I feel and she always counters by saying “It’s in your head”. I really don’t have a come back to that.

So as I was thinking about what to write, (channeling my inner stalker style) I decided to check out some pics of her (gotta love Facebook) and I realized ”Holy Shit! She’s completely out of my league and I stand no chance!”. Let me tell you, it’s not a good feeling, Reality is a real pain in the ass.  

So what’s the point of this post, Is it to tell her how I feel? Is it to tell you my avid readers how I feel? Is it to give my brother more ammunition to use against me in our never ending battle of nitwits? Is it to make my mom realise that her son is a hopeless basket case? Is it to make this girl realise I’m a pathetic, sentimental, wuss of a Manly Man? Is it an attempt to remind her of a pact made 10 years ago?

I really don’t know.

While this post may pose more questions than answers, I guess what it really comes down to is sometimes you just gotta let it all out, so you can let it all go. No matter how nonsensical, irrational or hopeless you feel. 

Posted via web from Zaev’s Hole in the Wall

Today a friend of mine broke up with his girlfriend, they’d been dating “on and off” (his words, not mine – I always believe it’s either on or forever off, but that’s just me) for about 5 years now. I just have to say I’m really proud of him. 

You see in this day and age, most people that are in relationships longer than a year or two, get married and then divorced in about 2 – 5 years. Now, this is may not be as true in the States as is it is in India (In the States, they don’t get married, they just live together), but there is still some truth to it. 

All these people stay together for just one reason and that is they “Settle”. Everybody in this day and age settles. I’ve seen it happen over and over again, people just settling.

I mean if this happened in times of War, the world would be a much better place. Unfortunately, it’s never that simple. When it comes to war, we’ll wage it until a whole bunch of people are dead. When it comes to Love, nope let’s just settle for something that may or may not even be love, because that’s the “smart” thing to do. Which is really ironic when you think about it. 

I’m off the opinion that people settle for primarily two reasons:  

1) They are scared of being alone

Note: Loneliness is a by product of being alone. I’ve had this argument and won. If you want to argue it further, please make sure you Define:Alone in Google search first, read all the definitions and then come back with your “rational” argument. 

2) The concept of “Divorce” has made it so that people feel they can just correct a “mistake”. 

That’s one hell of a mistake to fix champ! Assuming you live for 60 years, and you spent 8 years with someone, only to have it end in divorce because it was a bad idea (which you knew from the beginning, but ignored because you thought you would never find anybody better). You wasted just a little over 1/6th of your life away. Namely your prime, the peak years which you could’ve used finding the perfect person or sleeping with a bunch of HCHHSSTT’s. Both of which by the way, would you leave you happier than you are right now. 

So I’m happy because he didn’t settle. He definitely had the opportunity too. I’ve met his ex-girlfriend and she’s actually kind of nice and attractive too. Unfortunately, for him (or her) they just didn’t click sexually.

Note: Yes, sex is a big part of any relationship. I mean come on, I’m not afraid to say that a large reason I would get into a relationship with a girl is the fact that I’d get unconditional sex at least once a week (That’s the bare minimum as far as I’m concerned). If a guy (or a girl) is not getting that, you know they’re going to cheat on you. This is the reason most Indian Husbands are such adulterers, their wives refuse to give them enough nookie and when they do give it up, it’s bland and boring. 

So anyway, like I said he could’ve settled. Now, you know why I’m happy my friend broke up. As for why I’m proud?

Well, it’s because he could’ve done something a lot of guys do and that is string her along until he found somebody he felt was better. I know he liked the fact that he had somebody to talk to all the time. Somebody that made him feel special and when you spend as much as 5 years with a girl, it’s not easy letting go.

In fact, imagine letting go and knowing that while there are possibilities you could meet someone more your match, the chances of that happening are at best 50 – 50. It takes a lot of cajones to do something like that (It takes even more when you know, you aren’t going to get any sex for a while – I don’t think he realises that right now and I’m not about to tell him). 

I know so many people that stay in unhappy relationship’s because they can’t be alone. I’ve met guys (and girls) that cheat incessantly on their significant others, all because they are unhappy at the thought of being “stuck” with them. Some guys do worse, they emotionally abandon their girlfriends but refuse to break up with them or let them out of their lives because they like having them around, pretty much like a favourite chair. 

Now, I know you guys think I’m being my usual “over reactionary” self. I probably am, I probably am applauding something most people won’t agree with. But you know what? I’m fine with that. 

When you grow up in a family littered with divorce, and you know your mother is single because she got married for the wrong reasons and is suffering because the guy who married her was too scared to make the right decision for the both of them. You’ll learn that maybe, it’s better to be alone than to spend the next 3 – 5 years in a relationship that leaves both people worse off than when they got into it. 

So, to my friend I raise my bottle of beer and say “Job Well Done”. 

Posted via web from Zaev’s Hole in the Wall

Isn’t it funny how we all have preconceived notion’s of what people are like? I’ll be honest, I’m all about judging the people I see in front of me. It definitely has a fun factor to it.

I mean come on, you enter a bar and you see the skinny chicks that are either anorexic or too young to be in a bar. Let’s not forget the big muscle bound dude’s who probably nothing but air in between their ears and nothing else. Then there is always, the skinny dude with the spiked hair who has no clue. Or how about the dude in the really loud t-shirt who either has an over bearing mother or an over bearing girlfriend who is an imitation of his mother (guess who bought the shirt?) and finally the HCHHSSTT standing in the corner who is really just a frigid bitch.

I get it, I make judgements all the time, so does everybody around me.

In fact, I was out earlier tonight with FLBN (Female Lawyer with a Big Nose) and a couple of her colleagues. Interestingly enough, one of her colleagues labelled me as a guy that was into women that were basically helpless and constantly needed reassuring, along with a host of other issues they may have. She also claimed I couldn’t drink to save my life and basically I was a first rate loser. OK, honestly she didn’t call me a loser but I know she was thinking it.

I obviously object to all these points. First of all I am not a loser! I just choose to under perform. Secondly, I refuse to be told by a girl that gets buzzed on two Long Island Ice Tea’s that I can’t drink, especially when I was four Rum N Coke’s down along with a beer in the span of an hour and sober as a whistle (Something that I’m ashamedly proud off).

Finally, I will admit I do like women that are a little needy, that do require a little reassuring and that once in a while just want to be held. Yes, I’m a sucker for this stuff.

Why you ask do I want a woman with the above character traits (or character flaws depending on how you look at it)? Well it’s simple, I like to know that the girl I date needs me. I refuse to date a woman that thinks they can do everything all on their own.

Why? Because nobody can do everything on their own. These women actually end up being more trouble than they are worth.

People fail to realise, I was brought up by a single MOM and guess what even she had help. The help came in the form of my Didi. Oh, and let me tell you they don’t make them as intelligent, mature, strong willed and as independent as my MOM (or Didi for that matter). Let’s put it in perspective: My MOM was a single mother of two children during the eighties while living in India. Halleluja!

However, the fact remains that everybody needs help. What truly makes an individual special is when they are willing to admit that they can’t do everything on their own, instead reaching out and accepting the helping hand being offered.

Whether in love, sports, war or business, it is what separates the winners from the losers. You don’t believe me, just ask Kobe.

So, do everybody a favour stop being quick to judge. Oh and I know how cliched this is, but believe it or not, this isn’t a public service message.

Fact is, you’d be amazed at what you are missing out on just because you choose to be quick to pull the trigger and judge someone. Take it from me, I know first hand.

First off, there is definitely something to be said about posting at 2:30 AM after an evening of drinking. Regardless of what people say, I would like to believe some of my best work is done in situations such as this. Sure, there may be tons of typo’s (spell check is godly!) and sure the post may be nonsensical but I’d like to believe that they make enough sense to be relevant.

So, this was a pretty interesting weekend for me all things considered.

It started with a passport verification check on Friday where I found out that most passports have a 50% chance of being approved when you have a rental address as the permanent address. I guess us Indians have come so far that regardless of whom you are, you are expected to own property. That’s a shame for people like me, but hey “Go Indians???”

However, I did notice something very interesting when I went for passport verification. Apparently, there is a rule somewhere that states everybody who enrolls in the Indian Police Corp (I’m guessing that’s what they call them) have to grow mustaches.

You think I’m kidding right now? Wrong! Every cop that I saw had a mustache. Sure some were big, some small, some thin, some thick, there was the Hitler and there there was Freddy Mercury. There was red (Yes, Indian men love coloring their hair), there was brown and there was black. Some of them would’ve given Tom Selleck a run for his money. Only thing missing was a blonde mustache. In fact, I believe that to be accepted into the Indian Police Corps, you would have to grow a mustache. It doesn’t matter if it’s pencil thin and looks like pubic hair, they’d let you in.

I hope by blogging about this, I don’t jinx my passport approval.

So, this was followed by Friday night session where I hung out with two friends and we discussed assorted topics from HCHHSSTT’s to more mundane topics such as work.

Saturday was really no different, I had my boy TL (Team Lead – apparently he is never getting promoted) come over and we discussed assorted women and their zaniness and drank an afternoon beer or two. Seriously, there is something to be said about afternoon beer, there is absolutely nothing like it on a warm weekend day. It up lift’s your spirits in so many ways.

Finally, we come to tonight. Tonight is Sunday and I just got back from Wishy Washy’s birthday celebration. Let me tell you, Wishy Washy went all out. He went as far as to have Black Label out for everybody to drink. I had Rum N Coke. Something about RnC. It’s old school, it’s a kids drink, but it’s ohh so sweet (I’m also hoping less calories than beer, though I’m pretty sure the coke is negating that).

It was a fairly enjoyable evening, I met some old friends, whom I spent the evening torturing and who tortured me. What is it about Girl on Girl action that gets all men excited? It doesn’t even have to happen, just the possibility is enough to make us blush. I don’t get it, but I will admit I am a sucker for it. I would like to think I made a new “friend” and for once I was decently attired so I think I may have made a positive impact. However, I distinctly remember asking her if she was “Bi-sexual”. Sigh, this is becoming a trend of sorts.

I finally had to leave, because NCB (Ninja Cock Blocker) was passed out, and Wishy Washy’s parents were on their way back. I will never understand why people insist on getting to know Puff the Magic Dragon, especially when Puff insists on making them pay the price.

Let me tell you, dragging someone home who has been burnt by Puff is absolutely no fun.

All in all, I’d say it was a good weekend. On another positive note, I may just get passes to go to a fashion meet soon.

Why do I like fashion you ask? I don’t. I just love the thought of HCHHSSTT’s dressing up in different attire. Yes, I’m a pervert.

Like you didn’t know already?

So after two and a half years, the company I work for is finally shifting to a new office. This building is supposed to be state of the art, with all sorts of facilities. Of course we live in India so that means the building took three years to complete and it will take another year to finish putting in all the state of the art facilities.

However, the company decided to throw a party to inaugurate the new premises.

As far as parties go it wasn’t too shabby. We actually had a dress code for the party which was Black tie. I had to rebel and decided to go with a really flashy blue tie. However, considering that I was wearing a shirt, pants, jacket and leather shoes to go with it. I think most people were actually pleasantly surprised I could clean up.

The great part about a formal dress code is that you get to see all the people you work with at their best, especially the women. Nothing beats an HCHHSSTT all decked out in formal gowns.

So as with all company parties, especially IT companies you get a bunch of repressed nerds that go crazy because of all the free liquor. So there we all were getting completely sloshed.

To my credit I was not very drunk. I was pleasantly buzzed. So much so that I was probably the least emotional of all my friends.

I know I’ve posted on this before, but I want to reiterate that alcohol makes people do some crazy things. There were grown men and women crying everywhere. People getting truly emotional. My colleague BWSP (Batman Wannabe Scared of Pigeons) started jiving with random women though he swore he wouldn’t. My other colleague SBB (Short Build Bastard) was trying to get a lesbian to have a threesome. A third colleague, whom we’ll call NCB (Ninja Cock Blocker) was drooling over all the women and cock blocking them.

Well you can all imagine, the end result was a bunch of really well dressed men and some (not all) well dressed women drunk, emotional and falling all over each other.

As for me? Well, like I said I was pleasantly buzzed and decided to get myself home before I started acting like the rest. Interestingly enough I think I did only three stupid things all evening:

1) I asked a girl if she was a lesbian – This is never good. Avoid it at all costs. Trust me. To make it worse, I was actually thinking I had a shot with this woman. Note to self: Learn to keep mouth shut when drinking!

2) Dance with the CEO’s date – Right, if you want to keep your job do not under any circumstance do this. I think the only reason I still have a job is because he thinks I have “Potential”. Mind you I haven’t gotten promoted in two and half years! But hey.. I still have a job right?

3) Drunken dial a female friend in the hope that I could get lucky – Umm, maybe I was more buzzed than I realised.

I think friends should stop friends from drunk dialing. Somebody needs to come up with a buddy system that takes care of this. It’s like Drunken driving. You don’t let your friends drink and drive. Similarly there should be a designated phone holder. He’s responsible for handling all his drunk friends cellphones.

This way, no matter how drunk you get you can’t drunk dial anybody. I think I may have to put some more thought into this and come up with a system. It’s for the betterment of man kind!

Thank god these parties only happen once a year.