Monthly Archives: September 2007
I’m bored with men and their silly games. I’m tired of women and their wicked wiles.
Someone invent a new sex.
Maybe I could try romancing women and confiding in men instead. That would be like eating a bowlful of tiramisu for dinner and finishing off with a mini-burger for dessert. Then again, with a woman, one would be quite enough to occupy the time, energy and effort that is otherwise used to juggle several men. And one man would in no manner satisfy the friendship needs of a few women. So back we go to the old equations of a few women and many men.
Haw…did a search for a suitable illustration to accompany this post and ended up on a site about FOOD POISONING.
And right after writing this, today’s newspaper tells me that Indians have the third-most exciting sex lives in the world. And that we are also the most open lovers in the world when it comes to talking to our partners about sex. Strangely contradictory species, we are, are we not?
A certain little doggie (his description, not mine!) who on request, shall remain unnamed, asks me if there is a matching ‘Indian woman’ stereotype to counter the not-as-typical Indian man. See the news article above sir, someone in the couple has to be doing the initiating right? I wonder what the stats say about the initiative of Indian women. I saw Honeymoon Travels on the weekend and I’m thinking of Raima Sen and KK Menon, right now! 😉
Shweta, on the other hand, smiles at my post and sends me the the following story that was featured on Global Village and which I found online here. Khee khee khee…
XXFactor and the many faces of this woman need a face-lift. Or a kickstart. Or brakes. Or just some time to think.
Oh, don’t bother betting, I know I’m going to be back. Not even denying it. But huff…puff….give a woman a chance to breathe, will ya? This much unwarranted attention gets even to me.
Came back and edited the post after hitting ‘Publish’. Okay, I’ll tell you what I need the break for. I need time to think about where this blog is going and what I’m going to write about next and how. Why don’t you tell me?
So my dear readers, who have so loyally guffawed, snorted and sniffed at my posts, tell me what draws you here. Tell me what sort of posts you like, what you don’t like and drop a suggestion or more about what you’d like to see here next. All feedback, positive and negative is completely welcome.
And oh…in case you’re wondering, the Idea-toons take a break as well so don’t worry (at least for the moment) about being plagued by the little Asian girl. I’m all for listening. For real this time.
TALK to me.
I’m glad I’m a woman. If nothing else at all, at least I get to fall in and out of love with men. The alternative is petrifying.
So we are a city of metrosexual men? Hmm. I guess I should revise my preferences. Let it never be said that I’m not fair. So welcome, men, to the joys of beautification! That said, let me extend the olive branch to my insofar suffering male counterparts and attempt to smoothen the process for you. After all, I have been a woman all my life, tomboyishness and gender stereotype dilemmas notwithstanding…I still do have a leeetle more experience than you in this department.
As a gesture of welcome, I present a handy manual on all things that you’ll have a chance to learn now that you’re on beauty-territory:
Tired of being Beauty’s Beast?
Do you wish women would swoon over your smooth, shaven cheeks? Your dapper dressing? Your smart shoes? Your head-spinning cologne?
DO YOU WANT TO BE A METROSEXUAL MAN???!
Congratulations! Now that you’ve made up your mind, whipped out your wallet for the potions and creams, what’s next? The clothes don’t make a man…alone. We are here to help you be the complete Metrosexual Man!
Presenting a path-breaking programme that ensures that you are truly beautiful in every way….
1. Accounting – Time and for money: How to fit a before-date makeover into one free hour and a limited budget. Extras include time-stretching ploys, excuses, haggling and screaming over the din.
2. Survival kitting – How to assemble your own personal tool-kit for makeovers, quick-fixes, first-aids, touch-ups.
(Click on thumbnail to see full comic on a new page)
3. Discomfort management – A guide to living and loving starch, pins, elastic and pretty but comfort-challenged fabrics. A special booklet on Spandex for aspiring superheroes!
4. Dealing with support staff: Essential beginner’s guide to bargaining, quality assessment, communicating body fit requirements to tailors and the value of an amicable relationship with your hairdresser.
5. Body language modification: A practical course on how to walk, stand, talk and perform all other basic human movements with maximum grace and minimum discomfort.
Say bye-bye to the Beast! Hello, Mr.Beautiful!
Interested applicants may leave a message here and we’ll get back to you.
Note to women friends: Any volunteers wanting to help me get this in order? No laughing allowed….till after we collect the fees!
Nope. Dud. And failed attempts lead to system re-boot.
So now I’m eating chocolates. I’m turning into Bridget Jones.
So what did Bridget Jones do today?
She turned into Carrie Bradshaw.
Really? What did you buy? Sandals or shoes?
One of each. And an extra pair as well.
Three? Huh, that bad?
Pointy-toed with kitten heels. In case I ever want to jab them into somebody. Besides they were all on sale and I couldn’t resist.
Three on sale. RIIIGHTT.
At least I am not going Ally McBeal!
That was a nightmare, not a vision.
A dancing baby is not a nightmare.
It wasn’t dancing. It was sleeping. And so was I.
Still not a nightmare. Sleeping babies are the stuff dreams are made of.
Unless their father, the ex- is standing next to you.
Don’t worry about it. It’s just PMS.
Except in my case the P stands for ‘post’ and not ‘pre’.
A P is a P and a PAIN in every case.
🙂 Venom, good to have you back.
Poison, I missed you. 😉
Ever have those days when people seem to be staring at you for no apparant reason? Yeah we all do, except they’re consistently staring at you all day. How about a day that’s like any other, no one treating you like an alien (any more than normal) and then suddenly you’re the cynosure of male attention?
Ridiculous I tell myself, have I suddenly metamorphosed into Shakira? Discreetly pat knees and arms to check if all items of clothing present. Yup, all there, no noticeable malfunctions. What the hell are they are looking at me for???
The waiter leers over me waaayyyy too long, comes back to ask if that really, truly is all I want, ditto that ten minutes later. All accompanied by grin that could set the Cheshire cat to shame. Tch, tch I tell myself, poor thang, his hormones befuddle him. But what of that middle-aged uncle at the next table? If he stretches back any furthur to see past waiter’s butt, he’ll keel over. Serve him right too for trying to lech at almost-daughter’s-age-type.
With all the dignity I can muster, I head out, head held high, hands stiffly by side to prevent any nervous fidgeting. Hmph, bloody men and their lecherous glances. In a few minutes I’ve forgotten it all. Then I pass a mirror.
Oh horror of horrors….I totally forgot that cloud-burst I got trapped in, a few minutes before I rushed in for shelter. Yeah I got wet. Now I know what everyone was staring at. Oh damn…I look like a nursing mother with a leakage problem.
Blaaaady hell. Major design flaw, I agree.
Every man continues in his current non-single relationship state (dating, just good friends, chasing, no-strings-attached, in love, married) unless acted upon by a force internal (dramatic negative behaviour by woman like nagging, extreme indifference etc) or external (subtle positive behaviour by other women like smiling, cleavage-flashing, PDA etc).
(Click on thumnail to see full comic on a seperate page)
Men are inertiatic.
The rate of change of a man’s interest in a woman is directly proportional to the force (external or internal: see First Law) and takes place in the direction of the force.
To every female action towards changing the First Law and/or implementing the Second Law, there is always an opposite reaction, at least verbally. Equal or not depends on the stubborness of the man concerned and could determine which way the relationship swings from there.