I would shift careers if I knew what I wanted.

I really would.

The problem with this is when you don’t know what to do.

Apparently, I’m not the only one facing this problem. A lot of people I know are. The difference between those people and me? Those people may hate their jobs but they still do a kick ass job at them.

I know she doesn’t say it, nor does my dad. Nobody in my family will ever actually come out and say it. I know they’re thinking it, but they won’t say it. They will never come out and say that they want me to decide on a career and to do it quickly. I guess this is the problem with spending all your time complaining about work. You end up complaining so much that people get sick of hearing it.

Even my little brat of a sister is tired. She keeps changing the subject whenever I bring it up.

I know my mother is absolutely tired of hearing me complain about quitting (which I do every three to six months) and not having any immediate goals other than buying the latest in PS3 games.

It’s gotten so bad that when I actually wore a jacket to work and told people I went for a job interview, they laughed at me.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I do not appreciate being laughed at when I tell people that I went for a job interview. It’s just wrong. I’m not incapable of finding another job! At least not yet.

So what do I want to do?

Well I know I don’t want to do Law, Finance, Marketing, etc. Is it because I’d suck at it? Of course not. Unfortunately, I have a gift. The ability to not suck at anything… OK not anything, but anything that involves making money.

I have a knack, I’m good at making other people money. The problem with doing things that make other people money is that it leaves you with a feeling of complete emptiness. However, more importantly, I don’t want to do Law, Finance, Marketing, etc simply because I feel that every day I spend doing these things will bring me closer to the day where I am nothing but a hollow shell of a man.

Yes, I’m very melodramatic. Like I said, it’s a gift.

It’s ironic when I was 17, I would laugh at my mother and brother because they’ve always been the creative ones in the family. I always thought I’d be the one with the corporate gig, rolling in the big bucks. The irony is, I would rather be a creative person and know what I’m good at. That way I could try to make a career out of it.

I’m now three Monk (Rum) and Dew’s down and while I’m not drunk, I’m not sure where I am.

I’m turning 27 in less than 22 days.

Twenty Seven.

When I was 17, I had great hopes for myself. I always thought I’d be this big shot lawyer easily making a six figure salary, driving a BMW M5 (it was the coolest car in Need for Speed!) and dating a HCHHSSTT lawyer. In retrospect, I couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Well OK, I’m making a six figure salary but it’s in Rupee’s. It’s not the same thing. Stupid exchange rate. I’m not driving a car, let alone a BMW M5 and the lawyer HCHHHSSTT’s I know want to date Finance guys or guys with stability.

Apparently, I’m not stable. OK, fine even I’d agree with this.

You see the irony in all of this?

I’m not sure where I’m heading with this, but I promise you it’s going somewhere.

So what do you do when you are nearing your 27th birthday? I’ll admit I’m starting to get bored with all the introspection but right now it’s all I’ve got.

I miss being 15, I miss throwing parties with no alcohol being served that end at 1 am, I miss seeing 15 year old girls dressed in orange and knowing that it’s perfectly all right to want to kiss them since I’m also 15, I miss sneaking out of the house at 4 am during my summer holidays and going to playing basketball everyday and I miss talking to my friends about our respective futures and where we would all end up.

The best part about being younger is you don’t realize your limitations. It’s one of the scariest things about getting older, somewhere you realize that you don’t have all the time in the world and that each year you waste is one you’ll regret. As for any dreams about becoming a Superhero, well that just goes right out of the window once you get past 23. If you haven’t had an accident involving radioactive… ummm… radioactive “elements” by 23 then it’ll never happen.

I never did watch Ally McBeal while growing up, I didn’t find her the least bit attractive. She was not the kind of lawyer HCHHSSTT that I imagined myself with.

However,  she did have one line that makes more than a little bit of sense – When you look back on the last year, do you end up crying or laughing? If you do either of those, it was a good year and if you don’t do either. Well, it was a complete waste.

Sigh, getting old is just depressing, especially when all you have is Suzzanne to show for it.

I lied, this is not going anywhere.

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.

I asked Shri today what he believed happened to a person once they passed away. His answer: “Nothing – I think there is nothing. Think of humans as perishable commodities that can be manufactured at home. When you’re done with one of those, you’re done for good”.

I can’t accept that answer. For one, he just compared me to a perishable good. This happens to be one of my closest friends and he compared me to a perishable good. Secondly, It’s really really really depressing.

No, I need to believe that once I die, there will be something bigger and better after that. I’d like to believe that thing is Heaven. I know there are no guarantee’s of getting into Heaven.I know, there is the smallest of chance (OK! Not so small!) that I’ll end up in Hell, but I’ll try my luck.

Oh! and if getting into Heaven means I have to come back again as a cockroach in my own apartment and get stomped on by a foot as big and heavy as mine, so be it.

I want to believe that when I die, I’ll be able to go to Heaven where I meet a new HCHHSSTT everyday.

I can’t imagine that we have nothing after this, that we die with nowhere to go.

Heaven and Hell can’t decide that they are satisfied and illuminate the “No’s” on their “Vacancy” sign.

After all, what kind of world would it be if  Hitler didn’t end up in Hell and have Satan sticking a grenade up his ass every day.

Then again, maybe if we were all more like Shri and believed that there was nothing better, we would try a lot harder to enjoy this world and that’s not a bad thing either.

Is it bad to believe in something that encourages you to make the most of what you have right now?

The greatest part about being a kid is that you have your whole life to look forward too. As far as you’re concerned you are Immortal. When you’re Immortal, the sky is the limit.

Once it dawn’s on you that you aren’t going to live forever, you start second guessing yourself more and more. You start second guessing everything you do. Every year feels wasted and every minute ticks away with you rehashing the past instead of working on a brilliant future.

I guess, I’m just happy for HCHHSSTT’s (especially the ones in boots) – closest thing to Heaven.

This one is for my sister. I just read her blog after about two weeks. In my defence, she hasn’t been updating it regularly.

Well to my “shock”, I access her blog only to read bout how miserable she is and how much she misses Calcutta. Oh! And how Delhi is pretty much a soul sucking city.

I’ll be honest, I’ve had the fortune of never living in Delhi and as far as I’m concerned, I’m going to try and keep it like that.

However, I digress. The point is I can empathize with my little brat of a sister. It’s never easy going from what’s a really cushy situation into one which, well… sucks.

I would know, I went from a really cushy situation in New York to one in India which was anything but cushy.

For the record, I hate when people ask me why I came back to India! It get’s really old, really fast. So once and for all, I’m going to answer it on my blog here, and refer people to this post going forth:

1) I was scared. All my friends were busy getting started on their career’s, girlfriends and living it up. I was stuck in a dead end job, with no real “career” oppurtunities, didn’t even have a girl friend and was tired of  waking up every morning at 7 am to go work for a guy I spent most of the time loathing.

So I thought of coming back to India, the logic was simple, try my hand at a job from which I could make a career.

2) I was in a comfort zone back there, and figured leaving the country would “rock the boat” as it were.

In hindsight, not the most brilliant plan. I’m pretty sure I’d be a complete failure as a Super-Villain, which has now got me all depressed since I did habor plans for world domination. Next time I want to “rock the boat”, I’m going on a holiday.

Sorry, I digress again. I can’t help but talk about myself.

Point is, like the way my sister decided to go to Delhi to study and leave her comfort zone, I did the same thing and I’m pretty sure at some point in time, everybody has.

While it can get very scary and intimidating, especially in this world of constant information, terrorism and Barney the Purple Dinosaur. All we can really do, is hold our heads high and try our best to mold the situation we’re in to fit our needs. Of course some are better at this than others.

In the end, we made the decision to “rock the boat” and while it may not have seemed smart then or even three years later. In the end, we can only hope that it will get us one step closer, to wherever it is we want to go.

So to you Trish, my advice is that you stop trying to look for the soul in a city that may or may not be soulless.

Instead, just realise that you have started college and the next three years of your life are supposed to be the best.

How do I know? Well, do you really think Alan went back to college just to study? Of course not! He also wants to re-live what should be the best time in most people’s lives.

So instead of feeling sorry for yourself, instead of missing all the smells, sounds and luxuries of Cal, embrace the smells, sounds and luxuries of Delhi.

The biggest luxury being that for the first time in 18 years, you’re on your own with nobody to tell you what to do and what not to do.

So while this may not be big brother like behaviour, go out there and take the time to introduce yourself to the big-bad city. It’s time the world got to know Trisha.

Crap, I’m feeling pathetic today. I want to write, except I don’t know about what.

Have you had one of those day’s where you want to say a bunch of things, you just want to scream it all out? Only thing is, I’m not sure where to start.

I found out today a girl I kissed, doesn’t even remember kissing me. Was I that bad?

I’d like believe she’s repressing the memory, but even I know that’s me being really optimistic.

So now I’m suffering from writers block along with issues of insecurity and inadequacy.

Should I even post this? Maybe Twitter would be a better option.

However, couple of quick points to cheer me up, my brother got into college and should everything go as planned this is the first time in 7 years that he is carrying out a plan which could help him move towards a career. More importantly, this is the first time in 8 – 10 years where he gets to do something he really wants to. I have to admit, I’m jealous. I don’t even know what I want to do.

My sister not only got into Stephen’s college in India which is one of the best Liberal Art’s colleges around, but she also seems to be having a ball. This even though my Dad is trying his hardest to put her on a monthly budget so meager that it wouldn’t even buy him enough Alchohol to last through a weekend. Go Trisha.

I also find the need to add that I showed a couple of friends pictures of her, and they prompty went ape shit. I recommended that she put on 10 – 20 pounds to keep guys away. It’s either that or hiring me as a full time bodyguard. Ironically, some of her friends are really cute, I hope they have brothers to keep lechers like me away.

It’s 5 AM, I’m still awake and the only thing that is on my mind is the fact that this one girl doesn’t remember kissing me.

Fuck My Life.

Oh Wait… At least I didn’t drunken dial anyone. Yet….

I play a lot of video games and I’m ready to admit it.

The best part about a video game and these are the first things that jump to mind; the graphics, the lore behind each game, the fact that games can get your imagination to scale heights that aren’t possible in reality. Oh! and a lot of times you are in charge of some pretty slick characters that do some really crazy things.

While these are great, what I love most about video games are they always give me a “Redo”.

You always get a chance to fix your mistakes in video games. Maybe your strategy wasn’t right. You could’ve been thinking too short term when you should’ve been thinking long term or vice-versa. It could come down to something simple like killing the NPC (Non – Player Character) on your left rather than the one on the right.

The bottom line is, you get a second chance.

In life… you don’t get a second chance.

That time when you were a kid and stole money from your parents? Well, they’re going to remember that and it will haunt you a lot more than it haunts them. Trust me, over 10 years and I still feel guilty.

Occasions when you make a bad decision because you figured it was the way to go, it was the smart move – the safe move. It would setup your career and take you to the heights everybody expects you to reach.

For the record atleast with English Literature as my major I would’ve been able to quote Shakespeare and impress women!

The times when you walked out of your friends house in the middle of a party because you felt unappreciated or insulted, and days later you had too much pride to say “I may have been wrong! I’m sorry!”. After all you keep asking yourself: “Were you wrong? Was your pride misplaced?”

Note: Pride is always misplaced. You are always wrong. Regardless of what you tell yourself.

And finally, those special moments where you meet certain women and you connect with them and they with you. Then you go and do something that completely screws it up. It could be writing a blog post about them or something as simple as cutting off communication with them.  You can never pinpoint what happened, but something did.

A year later, you still wonder would things have been different if you had done something different? The crazy part is, you’re not even sure what you could’ve done different. After all this isn’t a video game where shooting the NPC on the left would give you a better result than the one on the right.

To add insult to injury, you don’t have a Redo to help you make a different decision.

Fact is I want a Redo. There is a lot I want to Redo.

Unfortunately, life isn’t a video game.

You don’t get Redo’s.

In my mind the closest thing to a Redo is getting drunk and posting about how all I want is a Redo, and hoping the right person reads it and decides they do as well.

Note: Do not mistake a Redo for an apology. It’s not. It’s just a Redo. Subtle but important difference.

In the meantime, you can always play a video game and lose yourself in virtual reality hoping that life will immitate it and feel sorry for yourself.

It won’t get you anywhere, but it sure does make you feel good.

So, after my last post I really didn’t plan on posting for a while, but fate obviously had other plans.
 
I just went for a friends / boss’s farewell party. Honestly, I had no intention of going, because I felt I had said my farewell 6 – 10 months ago.
 
Apparently, as I said fate – fate had other plans.
 
So there I was witnessing the tribute prepped for him, and the first thought that came to mind was “Wow! When I leave, this would never happen!”. That thought hit me like a ten ton piano falling right on my head.
 
The truth is, I’ve known this for a while. The difference between myself and my colleagues is simple. It’s not a question of intellect, management capabilities or business aptitude. It’s a simple case of “wanting it more”. I just don’t want it. This is not what I see myself doing for the next five years. Unfortunately, while not an excuse. It does lead to indequacies.
I realised about two to three weeks ago, why I didn’t want it, the answer was chillingly simple. I don’t want it because I don’t care.
 
I’m not saying I’m awesome at what I do, but I do think I’m pretty good and the only thing holding me back is me.
 
Who do you blame wheb you know that all your inadequacies are your fault. It doesn’t matter it it”s a relationship, work, hygiene, or even running the U.S. Presedential Office, in the end the only one to blame is yourself.
 
Why haven’t I set out to do more with my life? It boils down to deciding if you want to wake up one dat knowing that you tried and you just weren’t as good as you thought? Or maybe you wake up knwoing you didn’t even try?
 
In almost three years spent in India, I’ve accomplished nothing. It”s ironic people ask me why I came back and my answer is “I hated my job”. Well, is today”s scenario any better?
I don’t know, I get paid less to do more, while I’m still discontent doing it. The crazy part is, I know the people I report into actually read this blog and I don’t eve care right now.
 
I just came from the farewell “party” of the person that introduced me to my present situation and two things dawned on me;
 
1) I still haven’t quit and he just did. I’m not sure if this is an ego thing, or it its relation point #2.
 
2) He’s actually doing what he always wanted to do, while I’m more lost about what I want to do than ever before.
 
I really wanted to stop writing these stupiid posts dealing with the brutal honesty of how I felt. I much rather post about “How women should dress on a first date!” Or “why is that girl engaged when she’s got her arm around me?”. Apparently, all I’m good at are these sappy posts, declaring the many inadequcies of my life. Mind you this isn’t helping me get laid at all.
 
Stating “truths” that nobody else should care about and by the way if you do care? While I appreciate your concern, shouldn’t you be more focused on your own life?
 
Amazingly enough, I’m not depressed or high volatile emotionally. I’m perfectly normal. I know what I need to do, the only question is “Am I capable of doing what needs to be done?”.
 
Based on historical performance the answer is a resounding “No!”, I’d like to believe that I still haven’t lost the hope to change that to a more welcoming “Yes!”.
 
It’s 3 AM and all I feel like doing right now is going for a ride on beautiful Suzzanne. Damn the facr that I drank too much.
 
Definitely feel like a Homeless Man on New Years Eve.
 
By the way “Puke free since ’09″ just doesn’t have the ring I want. Any suggestions?
 
P.S. This post was made using a BlackBeryy. Please excuse grammar, formating and spelling mistakes.

Posted via email from Zaev’s Hole in the Wall

I’ve been wanting to post for a while now, but haven’t been sure what I should post.

I know some people may have been expecting a “tribute post” to Michael Jackson. The reason I haven’t done that is because everybody seem’s to be doing it. Don’t get me wrong, I always thought Michael’s music was really good.

How do you know when a person is a great entertainer / musician? Well there are two fool proof ways to tell: 

1) When people start fainting at his / her concerts. Has this even happened since Michael? I don’t really see people fainting when Beyonce, Fergie, Usher or Timberlake perform.

If Michael Jordan was the “His Airness”. What does that make Michael Jackson? His “Moonness” or maybe “The Moonwalker”. I can’t think of anything creative here, but we definitely need an apt title. 

2) When you can take an album and listen to every track on it and say “Wow, Let’s play the whole thing again!”. I don’t think I’ve ever done that, except with his albums. More often than not, I always skip to my favourite tracks leaving out the stuff in between that I don’t like. Interestingly enough, will we ever see another Michael Jackson? Weirdness and all? I doubt it, but you can never say never. 

Having said that, I always felt sorry for him and his fall from grace. Here was a guy that literally had the world in the palm of his hand and Wham! It wasn’t there any more. Did I believe the child molestation charges? Nope, not really. We all know that people will say and do some really nasty things for a little bit of cash (You know who you are! And you’re going to hell!).

I like to believe that he really just wanted to be a kid again and hanging out with other kids in his mind was the perfect solution. Was it a smart thing to do? Of course not. Did somebody try and stop him? I doubt it. He did it though, and he was chased out of his country for it. Amazingly enough, the same people that condemned him are singing his praises today. Talk about hypocritical.  

What is really sad is that people have completely forgotten another icon that passed away; Farrah Fawcett. She may not have been as popular as Michael was worldwide, but lets not forget she was the original Charlie’s Angel. Before Baywatch, there was Farrah, and lets face it Michael never looked as good especially not on a pin up poster. 

By the way, when you loose two cultural icons on the same day and they were a distinct part of your childhood, it makes you realise, just how old you are.

In other news, my little sister got into St. Stephens, it’s supposed to be the best school for the course she wants to do. This is good and bad:

The Good:

It gets her out of Calcutta. For all it’s charm, I’ve found people that stay in Calcutta seem to be stuck in some kinda time warp. They don’t seem to have moved past the 70s? or 80s? I’m not sure which decade, but still. I do know I’m too scared to go there and find out. Also, I’ve always believed (and have told her this with a lot of love and understanding) she is spoilt and overly protected. This should hopefully change (for the better) by leaving Calcutta. I say hopefully, because as always, we have the bad.  

The Bad:

She’s going to Delhi. This is the part where I would scream, rant and rave. Delhi – The land where women go to become brainless airheaded bimbos. Don’t get me wrong. I love Brainless Airheaded Bimbos! They are awesome. I just don’t want my little sister becoming one! Y’arrgghh Delhi. (Please excuse me while I go break something and find a release for my perfectly rational emotional outrage). 

Then again, it is St. Stephens and it is supposed to be the best school for the course she’s going to be doing. She’s also really happy about it. (I have to keep saying this to myself to stop from continuously going into a violent outrage)

Did I mention it’s in Delhi?

and finally,

The Kitchen Sink:

I can no longer say with pride and joy “Puke free since ’03″. For all you young’ uns out there, stay away from Absynthe. There is no green fairy. Just the devil waiting to get you and take away the simplest of joys away from you like being able to say “Puke free since ’03!”. Let’s face it “Puke free since ’09″ just doesn’t sound as good. I have to admit, I spent more time mourning this than is I should have, but I am still pretty depressed about it. Nothing good comes of drinking Absynthe. 

It may have partially been my fault, since I “shotted” a glass of Absynthe, followed it up with three quick Rum n Cokes, and then one more glass of Absynthe and three more Rum n Cokes. I also know, I will be getting a call from my mother after she reads this saying “You are drinking too much! Are you sure you are not an alcoholic? Are you depressed?”.

I should be happy I didn’t try drunk dialling anybody. Definitely a saving grace. 

So, what did you do the weekend two icons passed away? 

Posted via web from Zaev’s Hole in the Wall

I wonder if we’ll ever get to a day where we can just say what we want and be honest about who we are? Seriously, don’t any of you ever get tired of always portraying an image which isn’t entirely you?

So, most of you will be quick to judge this post as a lousy attempt of humor. But it’s not. You see what I’m about to discuss is off immense importance to me.

That’s right we’re about to discuss what we’re allowed to do in a bathroom. Sure, this subject has been hashed and rehashed over and over and you are probably asking what’s left to discuss? Well, just recently I had a conversation with a few people and all of them seemed to have the most skewed perspective on this topic.

First of all let’s start with the simplest one. Taking a piss.

Now, this is easy because the basics are easy:

1) When you feel the need to urinate in someones house make sure you don’t miss.

2) When in a public restroom you need to try and leave one urinal space between each person. The people that fail to follow through with this one need to be hit with a baseball bat.

3) Finally, always without fail make sure you wash your hands. If you fail to do this, you are going to hell. If you really think God let’s people who don’t wash their hands after taking a pee into Heaven, you are kidding yourself!

Now, we come to the the center of my weekend conversation which is taking a dump and what you are allowed to do when you are busy dropping the kids off at the pool.

The way I see it, I think most people have very negative images and attitudes with regard to taking a deuce. In my opinion, I think dropping it like it’s hot is one of the most natural and relieving things to do.

I spend a minimum of 5 minutes everyday on the pot and the way I see it, I need ways to entertain myself when on there. It could be a comic: nothing beats reading about the Justice League saving the world when you let it all out. Sometimes, its a Magazine: Maxim has great tips on how to make a Porch for the house I may one day own. Then you always have Novels: I still remember the morning I read that Harry Potter lives was exceptionally relieving. I think it may also have had something to do with the food I had the night before. Definitely something about spicy Indian food that turns your bowel inside out.

However, I digress. Nowadays I don’t really have anything to read when on the pot so I’ve taken to bringing my phone into the loo. Sure, all you people are probably groaning away at the thought of it. You know what? I bet all of you have your own “dirty” secrets as well. I just happen to have the guts to write it down for posterity in a public forum.

Let’s face it, the 5 – 10 minutes I spend on my throne everyday is really great for taking care of work. I send off emails, I check Facebook updates, I would also be checking my Twitter updates except the app on my phone isn’t working. I even check up on sick friends like Wishy Washy (Who doesn’t even appreciate my concern!). I play games and in the last week have doubled my High Score in Brick Breaker! I get too check my brothers location every morning on Google Maps, which is my way of making sure he’s alive. Finally, just this morning I carried out a conversation with my sister about her love life on MSN while doing the deed.

You know what? I love taking my phone with me when I go potty! I’m not ashamed to admit it. I also feel, people need to get off their high horses and admit that it’s great idea.

And by the way, I’ve never understood the whole “Oh you took the book / phone to the bathroom! Disgusting!”. Hey guess what? All the while I’m handling items on my commode, my hands are clean! And last I checked, taking a shit doesn’t release airborne germs into the air that magically attach themselves to the surface of books or cellphones.

So, I repeat do yourself a favor, get off your high horses and start enjoying the time spent while attaining nirvana.