CUPID MUST DIE!!!

I am truly saddened today to see what a base level we have sunk to in India. As if rampant poverty, Tsunami devastation and a raging AIDS epidemic was not enough to occupy our narrow little minds, we now have a new enemy: VALENTINE'S DAY.

REUTERS reports:

Hindu Hardliners Burn Valentine Cards
Mon Feb 14, 5:50 AM ET
NEW DELHI, India - Nearly 50 Hindu hardliners burned Valentine's Daycards and posters in the Indian capital on Monday, protesting the international day of love that they say imposes Western values on India's youth.

There was no violence as policemen cordoned off the area and prevented the Shiv Sena activists from marching through the sprawling Delhi University campus.

In the past, Hindu nationalists have ransacked shops selling cards and harassed young lovers seen holding hands in public. On Monday, the protesters dispersed after chanting slogans.
Jai Bhagwan Goyal, New Delhi chief of the Bombay-based Shiv Sena, said multinational companies were promoting Valentine's Day to earn money through the sale of cards and posters.

"This is against Hindu culture and corrupts India's youth," he said.
The protest didn't have any impact on the university campus, as young students continued to move around exchanging flowers and cards.

The Shiv Sena organizes protests every year on Feb. 14 to demand a ban on Valentine's Day celebrations, but gets little response from the government. Shiv Sena wants India to be a Hindu nation, rather than a secular, multi-religious one.

Valentine's Day has gained popularity in India despite being a cultural flashpoint. Conservative traditions have been buffeted by growing permissiveness among high school and colleges students and young adults.
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Now, I am not saying that I have not ever wanted to stage my own coup against valentine's day mania, but this is taking it to the Twilight Zone. This Modus Operandi to overthrow Valentine's Day smacks of jealousy and bitterness, and has the fingerprints of a jilted guy all over it.

I seriously want to sit down with these Shiv Sena guys and interrogate them. I'm willing to bet that they are an undersexed and miserable lot of young men getting off on the idea of going Columbine on poor Cupid. If you can't beat 'em, then ruin it for the rest...'tis, after all, the desi way. I really want to know though...do you feel like a man when you burn that Hallmark card and see that teddy bear going up in flames???

Now, by no means am I defending Valentine's Day. I am totally not on board with the pointless celebration of commercialism and schmaltzy ideas of romance. VOMIT. And before any of you all accuse moi of being a bitter old hag, I will have you know that I *do* participate in the rituals, just not in the traditional sense. If you have a way to be original...you have my blessing. And I prefer to celebrate on a random day...not the day mandated by the greeting card industry.

Anyway, I now see it as the 'alarm clock' date for guys. After years of observation, I have seen that many a guy tend to bolt just a few days shy of Valentine's Day, leaving a wake of distraught females nursing broken hearts and crying into their coffees. So, what gives, guys? Too cheap to shell out the whopping $3.50 on a card? Too immature and think that spending a Valentine's Day with someone is tantamount to marriage?

No. Methinks the pressure is too intense. I mean, Hollywood (and, even worse, BOLLYWOOD) has completely brainwashed us into having a warped and completely unrealistic idea of what love is and is supposed to be. We see movies depicting guys buying out flower shops, flying across the world, and holding boomboxes over their heads outside windows to snag their loved one. Meanwhile, in the real world...all this behaviour would induce restraining orders and harried calls to 911.

So, I don't blame the poor buggers for pulling a pre-Valentines Houdini...who can compare to the fictional Hollywood hero?

No matter what a guy does...it will never be enough for Valentine's Day. Not to say that this excuses them for fuckwit behavior. It merely gives an explanation for why Valentine's Day should not be THE barometer for romance. It just isn't fair to throw out 364 days of thoughtfulness and put the guy in the doghouse for not cutting it on one day. Besides, the hackneyed vision of what romance is (according to ads on tv) would have St. Valentine rolling in his grave.

Having received my fair share of flowers and chocolates and other cliched valentines kitsch over the years, I can definitely say that an $8 rose bouquet from the corner deli does not romance make. It is also not the frantic running around trees, singing to your beloved, while she gyrates in a oh-so convenient passing rain storm. It just is not the materialist and celluloid fantasies we buy into (literally!!).

Now, of course, I would not say no to any of these things (or an Apple I-pod! Nothing says 'I love you' like an I-pod!!)...I am, after all, a progammed Stepford child of the commercial world. But as much as these things could make my material girl heart go pitter pat, I can say that NONE of these things has ever been equated with romance or love in my mind. Seriously ladies. Does a $15 acrylic dust trap of a teddy bear really make you feel loved?

One of the best Valentine's presents I ever gave my friends/love interest was a list of 51 reasons why I loved them. Some were serious...others just funny, but every one of my friends has treasured that list, some even citing it as the one thing they would rescue from a fire. The point? Everyone wants to feel appreciated and loved...everyday, not just Valentine's Day. I am sure if we were consistent in our adoration, then Valentine's would not end up being the SAT of love...the determing factor in your future (or so my Dad thinks the SAT is).

So, my feline friends, love one another for what is real. And, throw a little love the Shiv Sena's way...those boys could really use some.

MORE THAN A GRAIN OF TRUTH

okay...so here is a favorite joke of mine, which is completely un-PC and draws upon every stereotype. Alas, if only the desi stereotype was a fallacy!

read...enjoy!

A ship sank in high seas and the following people got stranded on a beautiful deserted island in the middle of nowhere:

A. 2 Italian men and 1 Italian woman
B. 2 French men and 1 French woman
C. 2 German men and 1 German woman
D. 2 Greek men and 1 Greek woman
E. 2 Polish men and 1 Polish woman
F. 2 Mexican men and 1 Mexican woman
G. 2 Irish men and 1 Irish woman
H. 2 American men and 1 American woman
I. 2 Indian men and 1 Indian woman

One month later, on various parts of the island, the following was observed:

A. One Italian man killed the other Italian man for the Italian woman.

B. The two French men and the French woman are living happily together in a menage a trois.

C. The two German men have a strict weekly schedule of when they alternate with the German woman.

D. The two Greek men are sleeping together, and the Greek woman is cooking & cleaning for them.

E. The two Polish men took a long look at the endless ocean and a long look at the Polish woman, and they started swimming.

F. The two Mexican men are talking to all the other men on the island trying to sell them the Mexican woman.

G. The two Irish men began by dividing up their part of the island into Northern & Southern parts, and by setting up a distillery. They do not remember the Irish woman because it gets sort of foggy after the first few litres of coconut whiskey but at least the English are not getting any.

H. The two American men are contemplating suicide. The American woman is bitching about her body being her own, the true nature of feminism, how she can do everything that they can do, about the necessity of fulfilment, the equal division of the household chores, how her last boyfriend respected her opinion and treated her much better, and how her relationship with her mother is improving.

What happened to the Indians??????

The 2 Indian men are still waiting for someone to introduce them to the Indian woman!!

Sadly, this is an all too common occurrence. This is one variety of FOB (the previously mentioned dancefloor humpers are another!), though these are (THANK GAWD!) are relatively harmless.

Observe our specimen:

The shy, bespectacled sort lounges on the peripheries of the dancefloor, hungrily feasting its eyes on its prey, but pathetically not being able to pounce. (Here, I am reminded of a toothless tiger, smacking his gums together or perhaps the quadrapalegic lion drooling on the sidelines!).

Our subject is poorly attired to strike: clad in heavy woolen sweater, button down oxford shirt, nylon slacks, and (of course) the requisite white sneakers blindingly shining from below. The manmade fibers do wonders for our friend's perspiration glands. He, not believing in the miracles of modern odor-fighting science, has opted to NOT be SURE!, though it does not prevent him from raising his hand as if he was...and lucky for us, he does! For if our young lad did not, we would not be able to smell that Indian buffet lunch seeping through his pores.

The rare occurrence that a young foolish gazelle crosses his path and aggressively bats him with a long, delicate leg, our impotent amigo does one of several things:

1-drops his drink on her (believe me-this has, to the utter joy of my local dry cleaner, happened all too frequently)

2-stammers, blushes and sidles away.

3-introduces her to his sleazy friend (who, let's face it-has already been following her around the club all night ANYWAY!)

Now, I love these poor clueless lambs, and I have done my best to incorporate them into the dating jungle more than a number of times. However, a girl can only do so much. I remember one *SUPPOSED* success story. He was wearing breathable fabric, using that Rightguard down to a nub, and trying to wax poetic about the merits of George Clooney's new haircut. I thought we had success...the moon landing of the dating world. But, pride before a fall and whatnot. Like Icarus, I had tried to fly too close to the sun. My little chum-chum got pretty far in the dating game-dinner, drinks, ride on the subway. All hell broke loose when the love interest invited him up. PANIC!!!

This was nothing short of a dating 911! Upon entering the minx pad, the poor boy immediately bolted for the bathroom and frantically pounded my number into his cellie, hissing into it as quietly as he could. Paralyzed with fear, he realized that his ultimate dream was potentially coming close to fruition, and that he had no clue what to do. Though I tried to calm our neurotic basket case and give him some sure-thing pointers, he was too far-gone to rescue. We are talking phobia run amok!

So severe was his panic, that he neglected to even say 'bye' to our young lass and make the bullshit "oh-i have to work early tomorrow" excuse that fuckwits are so fond of. He just pulled a houdini, leaving the poor femme fatale to stare blankly at the open door left in his wake.

The worst part is that he ran into this girl a few weeks later. She let him have it, berating him in front of a group of people (including his employer!!!) before showering him in her Long Island Iced Tea. Needless to say, he has become a hermit and pledged celibacy forever.

**ADDITION IN RESPONSE TO CONCERN OVER OUR FOB FRIEND**
Okay, so I lied. The person in question is not rocking back and forth in a a corner of a monastery somewhere, but is now happily married (arranged) and no longer has to subject himself to the tortuous ritual we call 'dating'. He appreciates the concern, though I am sure he NEVER wants his darling wifey to be privy to the knowledge of his "less-than-hip" days. We will keep this lil' secret to ourselves, shall we?

THE TRIUMPHANT RETURN OF THE OUTRAGEOUS MINX!!!

Hello to all my favorite cats and kittens!

I never intended to leave you all high and dry for such a long time. It started out as a general malaise, which quickly, through a series of rather unfortunate events, disintegrated into a downward spiral of misguided despair, eventually sucking me into the deep abyss of self-loathing, a place I visit all-too-often. It is like a bad summer home for me. In that state, I was too depressing and pitiful even for myself, so you should be thanking me for not subjecting you to the raw anguish and war waging in the inner recesses of my pathetic mental battleground. What can I say? I am no Van Gogh or Hemingway--pain does not necessarily lead to creativity, it just shuts me down. (But, hey! At least my bodily appendages and sanity have survived intact!)

I am back, as Arnold would say, with a vengeance! And I will regale you with stories of the past few weeks/months (yikes!). Always trying to achieve some sense of control in my world of chaos, I am approaching the next few blogs as a play-by-play of major events of the past few months, not necessarily random rants. I will try to control myself and let random rants take the backseat for time being. That said, I also know I will break this rule almost immediately. So, sit back, relax, and enjoy!