I don't gamble, especially with money.
But sometimes I have to, just for the sake of keeping up appearances.
Today we had our New Year Party.
It was slightly better than the sad x-mas party we had on this ship.
For one, I won some money!
Secondly, we had some more suckling pig.and this one looked hideous! I could
see its eyeballs, its ears and even it's teeth-intact and vulgarly sticking
out. Most of us wouldn't go near that thing.
We all watched it like it was an exhibit from a nearby freak show.
We also had a turkey.I know, traditionalists will claims turkeys for
Thanksgiving, but out at sea, beggars can't be choosers. The turkey had an
apple stuffed up its wazoo.which led to some very interesting and
entertaining discussions.
Nobody wanted the apple though!
It was tainted forever by going where the sun don't shine!
We played Housie.
As I said before I don't like to play with money.but whenever I do, I always
break even.
Mysterious forces or not, I can always predict my winnings with an uncanny
accuracy.
For a 5 $ ticket, I won 25 $...and last time I played I won 15 $.
I usually win back the principal, but on rare occasions, I win a lot more.'
But I always win.
Rather, I play only when I know that I'll win.
I'll sit out a game if the gut feeling is all wrong.
I usually don't play more than a game, because it causes general resentment
among those who usually don't win.
Also, I don't want to push my luck. I don't know I f I'm saving it up, but I
don't want to use it all up on something as frivolous as Housie.
Well that's all for now.
I don't have anything smart or witty to say, but I do wish all of you a very
Happy (whatever 'Happy' means to you) New Year from the bottom of my heart
(wherever that is).
Happy New Year!
May this year be much more interesting than the last one.
Amen.
Received: from C6XB2 at Globe Wireless; Wed, 31 Dec 2008 12:37 UTC
Message-id: 710771485S244
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Terms Of Endearment
This is getting to be irritating!
We went to the bank in westernport, Australia to exchange some local
currency.
After I went in , I stood there waiting near the information booth and the
bank teller, a thirty something lady said to me 'Honey! Child ! Go stand
over there , and someone will come talk to you shortly'
Honey? Child?
I'm not a f%$^%*ng child!
Women, a word of advice.
Do not use terms of endearment when you don't mean them.
Don't call me a Dear if I'm not dear to you.
Don't call me Honey, if I'm not your Honey.
It irritates the hell out of me.
I know, you girls do it with quite often with each other, but I'm not a
girl!
Mean it when you say it. Or don't say it at all.
That's all.
In the local pub, the barkeep asked me how old I was.
25, I said.
She wanted proof.
She said I looked way too young.
I asked her age.
She said she was 21.
And I shot back saying 'You don't have to lie to me, you know...I don't mind
talking to older women'
Ho Ho! Revenge is sweet!
No, No! She protested that she was 21 and flashed her license at me.
I said I didn't care.
And I didn't have to prove my age because I didn't come to the bar to drink
alcohol.I came here with the other crew members for the company.
I told her about the strict Zero-Alcohol policy on board and asked for a
coke.
But really, it's not that asians look younger.
It's just that most caucasians look older when compared.
A 16 year old caucasian girl would look more like a 20 year old asian
because they are physically more developed in all areas.
They are usually taller,heavier and fuller bodied, whereas your asian
counterpart is so waif-ish and short looks like she's just had her sweet
sixteen!
Of course, you don't have to agree with me, as this is just a rant.
Received: from C6XB2 at Globe Wireless; Sat, 27 Dec 2008 23:41 UTC
Message-id: 709949549S35
We went to the bank in westernport, Australia to exchange some local
currency.
After I went in , I stood there waiting near the information booth and the
bank teller, a thirty something lady said to me 'Honey! Child ! Go stand
over there , and someone will come talk to you shortly'
Honey? Child?
I'm not a f%$^%*ng child!
Women, a word of advice.
Do not use terms of endearment when you don't mean them.
Don't call me a Dear if I'm not dear to you.
Don't call me Honey, if I'm not your Honey.
It irritates the hell out of me.
I know, you girls do it with quite often with each other, but I'm not a
girl!
Mean it when you say it. Or don't say it at all.
That's all.
In the local pub, the barkeep asked me how old I was.
25, I said.
She wanted proof.
She said I looked way too young.
I asked her age.
She said she was 21.
And I shot back saying 'You don't have to lie to me, you know...I don't mind
talking to older women'
Ho Ho! Revenge is sweet!
No, No! She protested that she was 21 and flashed her license at me.
I said I didn't care.
And I didn't have to prove my age because I didn't come to the bar to drink
alcohol.I came here with the other crew members for the company.
I told her about the strict Zero-Alcohol policy on board and asked for a
coke.
But really, it's not that asians look younger.
It's just that most caucasians look older when compared.
A 16 year old caucasian girl would look more like a 20 year old asian
because they are physically more developed in all areas.
They are usually taller,heavier and fuller bodied, whereas your asian
counterpart is so waif-ish and short looks like she's just had her sweet
sixteen!
Of course, you don't have to agree with me, as this is just a rant.
Received: from C6XB2 at Globe Wireless; Sat, 27 Dec 2008 23:41 UTC
Message-id: 709949549S35
Anger Management
How do you get your grip on rage when all you want to do is beat the crap
out of someone just to spend your anger?
I got really angry today.
I've been seeing a growing trend of neglect and apathy these days on the
ship.
Just after the safety drills ,I found the SCBA (short for Self Contained
Breathing Apparatus) kept the wrong way, despite telling people that it will
get damaged in that position.
What's more , I even found a safety lantern missing from the SCBA
harness.Some Bloody Motherf*ckin Idiot had taken it and never bothered to
return it back.One of the buttons on the SCBA was damaged and the forward
fire hose was leaking...In short -Total Disaster.
And who's gonna be held responsible?
Me.(And the Master of course)
Why?
Because I'm in charge of their maintenance.
Arrghh!
I tried to find out who had taken the missing safety lantern and I was met
with total indifference,lack of co-operation,apathy and evasiveness.
'No, I've never seen it'
'What? You were the last one using it!'
'Yeah, but it was like that when I got there...Yeah, it was like that when I
got there'
There was a tide of impotent rage rising in my blood, and it made me wanna
go...
Arrghh!
WTF@$#^%&*@()&)@!WhatiswrongwithyouyoustupidmotherF@#$@$!^*)%^
Ok this is my secret for being thin ( despite eating like a horse)
I exercise when I get angry.
Many have admired the fact that they have never seen me getting angry.
But I do get angry.
And then I release it with exercise.
At home , I release it on my punching bag.
So far I've damaged three punching bags as a result.This time Dad has
promised a custom made heavy duty punching bag that can withstand my
onslaught.
I doubt it.
I'm pretty relentless.
But what about it when I'm on ships ?
Well,I had a missing lantern, a leaking hose, a damaged button -and all
these things were important enough to get the ship detained in any of the
ports.
This was not small stuff that I could just pooh-pooh it away.
My anger was rising like mercury on a hot summer day,and then Zen happened.I
had a mini 'Satori', a moment of clarity , of revelation.
I realised that people are assholes and they would remain to be so.
My anger was impotent because it led me nowhere closer to the solution.I
would now have to waste precious hours tracking a stupid safety lantern and
these assholes would not make it any easier in finding it.But it had to be
done.In the scheme of all things important , this was on the top ten list.So
it had to be done.With or without their help.
Well, fuck them.
So I tried to calm myself down , trying to explain to myself how my anger
was unproductive and how these people did not even deserve my anger, but it
didn't work.
My anger was frtothing over and I decided to start looking for the
lantern.An hour's worth of searching yielded no results, but worse, my anger
had not simmered down and I didn't like the fact that I'd give into an
outburst if this rage continued.
So I went to the gym, locked the dood, and started loading the barbell until
it was very heavy.(60 kg)
Started with a few Clean and Jerks and then did a few military presses.Now
with the physical exertion my anger was subsiding.
Did a few other lifts including my favorite- The Deadlift using all the
plates on the barbell(nearly 90kg)
That left me tired and spent but feeling very peaceful and no longer angry.
p.s. Yesterday I told you about the sinking Yacht.It's name was Georgia.
It came on the 6 o'clock news today.All of them are ok.
Received: from C6XB2 at Globe Wireless; Sat, 27 Dec 2008 13:05 UTC
Message-id: 709879628S9
out of someone just to spend your anger?
I got really angry today.
I've been seeing a growing trend of neglect and apathy these days on the
ship.
Just after the safety drills ,I found the SCBA (short for Self Contained
Breathing Apparatus) kept the wrong way, despite telling people that it will
get damaged in that position.
What's more , I even found a safety lantern missing from the SCBA
harness.Some Bloody Motherf*ckin Idiot had taken it and never bothered to
return it back.One of the buttons on the SCBA was damaged and the forward
fire hose was leaking...In short -Total Disaster.
And who's gonna be held responsible?
Me.(And the Master of course)
Why?
Because I'm in charge of their maintenance.
Arrghh!
I tried to find out who had taken the missing safety lantern and I was met
with total indifference,lack of co-operation,apathy and evasiveness.
'No, I've never seen it'
'What? You were the last one using it!'
'Yeah, but it was like that when I got there...Yeah, it was like that when I
got there'
There was a tide of impotent rage rising in my blood, and it made me wanna
go...
Arrghh!
WTF@$#^%&*@()&)@!WhatiswrongwithyouyoustupidmotherF@#$@$!^*)%^
Ok this is my secret for being thin ( despite eating like a horse)
I exercise when I get angry.
Many have admired the fact that they have never seen me getting angry.
But I do get angry.
And then I release it with exercise.
At home , I release it on my punching bag.
So far I've damaged three punching bags as a result.This time Dad has
promised a custom made heavy duty punching bag that can withstand my
onslaught.
I doubt it.
I'm pretty relentless.
But what about it when I'm on ships ?
Well,I had a missing lantern, a leaking hose, a damaged button -and all
these things were important enough to get the ship detained in any of the
ports.
This was not small stuff that I could just pooh-pooh it away.
My anger was rising like mercury on a hot summer day,and then Zen happened.I
had a mini 'Satori', a moment of clarity , of revelation.
I realised that people are assholes and they would remain to be so.
My anger was impotent because it led me nowhere closer to the solution.I
would now have to waste precious hours tracking a stupid safety lantern and
these assholes would not make it any easier in finding it.But it had to be
done.In the scheme of all things important , this was on the top ten list.So
it had to be done.With or without their help.
Well, fuck them.
So I tried to calm myself down , trying to explain to myself how my anger
was unproductive and how these people did not even deserve my anger, but it
didn't work.
My anger was frtothing over and I decided to start looking for the
lantern.An hour's worth of searching yielded no results, but worse, my anger
had not simmered down and I didn't like the fact that I'd give into an
outburst if this rage continued.
So I went to the gym, locked the dood, and started loading the barbell until
it was very heavy.(60 kg)
Started with a few Clean and Jerks and then did a few military presses.Now
with the physical exertion my anger was subsiding.
Did a few other lifts including my favorite- The Deadlift using all the
plates on the barbell(nearly 90kg)
That left me tired and spent but feeling very peaceful and no longer angry.
p.s. Yesterday I told you about the sinking Yacht.It's name was Georgia.
It came on the 6 o'clock news today.All of them are ok.
Received: from C6XB2 at Globe Wireless; Sat, 27 Dec 2008 13:05 UTC
Message-id: 709879628S9
Friday, December 26, 2008
Party Pooper
We had to postpone our x-mas party by a day.
This party was held tonight .
The unanimously held opinion on board was that this party was the worst
x-mas party ever to be held in the history of Clipper Sun.
The food was not so bad-Malai Kofta, Fried Rice, suckling pig , some
Filipino chicken leg thingy, a few pakoras,veg pulao and soft drinks .That
was our fare for the day.
But something was missing.
We all felt dry.
The problem with most tankers is that they are Dry Ships.
Dry in the sense that there is not a drop of alcohol on board.
The cargo (33000 Tons of Butane and propane in this case) is deemed to be
far too precious to be put in the hands of inebriated sailors.
Thus alcohol of any kind is not allowed by company policy.
Now for a non-drinker and non-smoker, vegetarian -bean-sprout eating health
nut-exercise freak like me, this poses no problem, but to many others still
not habituated to lack of alcohol ,it does .
They crib all day about the lack of alcohol, but know that violating company
policy is grounds for immediate dismissal.
So we had a very dry x-mas.
We sang a few carols, and then bims and goc-ong (we call him Goku-The super
saiyyan) played a few of their favorite x-mas songs and then we ate plum
cake and that was it.
But then we had a Party pooper.
An emergency !
I was summoned to the bridge as we had received a distress message from a
yacht nearby.
There was a Yacht race going on and one of the boats started flooding and
they had initiated a mayday call.
We were nearby and so bound by the Sydney Coastguard and by Maritime laws to
assist the sinking yacht.
We made all preparations but then another yacht nearby had provided
assistance to the sinking yacht and we were released from our obligation and
allowed to continue our voyage.
Now we are on our way to south korea. The last I heard about the boat was a
message on the VHF radio by the coastguard warning all sailors about the
boat being awash at so-and so position.
The crew of the boat were rescued with no loss to life.
Well, I just felt like telling this to someone else before going to sleep.
Good Night.
Received: from C6XB2 at Globe Wireless; Fri, 26 Dec 2008 12:45 UTC
Message-id: 709685818S24
This party was held tonight .
The unanimously held opinion on board was that this party was the worst
x-mas party ever to be held in the history of Clipper Sun.
The food was not so bad-Malai Kofta, Fried Rice, suckling pig , some
Filipino chicken leg thingy, a few pakoras,veg pulao and soft drinks .That
was our fare for the day.
But something was missing.
We all felt dry.
The problem with most tankers is that they are Dry Ships.
Dry in the sense that there is not a drop of alcohol on board.
The cargo (33000 Tons of Butane and propane in this case) is deemed to be
far too precious to be put in the hands of inebriated sailors.
Thus alcohol of any kind is not allowed by company policy.
Now for a non-drinker and non-smoker, vegetarian -bean-sprout eating health
nut-exercise freak like me, this poses no problem, but to many others still
not habituated to lack of alcohol ,it does .
They crib all day about the lack of alcohol, but know that violating company
policy is grounds for immediate dismissal.
So we had a very dry x-mas.
We sang a few carols, and then bims and goc-ong (we call him Goku-The super
saiyyan) played a few of their favorite x-mas songs and then we ate plum
cake and that was it.
But then we had a Party pooper.
An emergency !
I was summoned to the bridge as we had received a distress message from a
yacht nearby.
There was a Yacht race going on and one of the boats started flooding and
they had initiated a mayday call.
We were nearby and so bound by the Sydney Coastguard and by Maritime laws to
assist the sinking yacht.
We made all preparations but then another yacht nearby had provided
assistance to the sinking yacht and we were released from our obligation and
allowed to continue our voyage.
Now we are on our way to south korea. The last I heard about the boat was a
message on the VHF radio by the coastguard warning all sailors about the
boat being awash at so-and so position.
The crew of the boat were rescued with no loss to life.
Well, I just felt like telling this to someone else before going to sleep.
Good Night.
Received: from C6XB2 at Globe Wireless; Fri, 26 Dec 2008 12:45 UTC
Message-id: 709685818S24
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Meri X-mas?
It was a busy x-mas for us at Clipper Sun.
We were loading butane in three of our four cargo tanks to discharge it in
South Korea and Japan.
Now we have departed from Australia, never to return again (until next time)
on X-mas evening.
We are tired. Dog Dead Tired.
I haven't slept in the last 18 hrs.
This isn't something new. It happens a lot.
Welcome to my world.
There's a saying here on the ship...'On a ship, there are no Sundays ‘,
which is true, because every day is a work day no matter what and will
remain so until you sign off and go home.
A ship berthed next us went on a strike and refused to work on x-mas eve and
x-mas and the day after .We salute their foolhardy courage. (And tch tch
their short spanned careers)
But the 3 weeks prior to that was something else...We went to Botany, roamed
around in Sydney, and then anchored for a long time in Bonython.
In Bonython a sense of normalcy had crept in sneakily. We felt like we were
ashore.
We all had local sim cards and were talking to friends and family every day.
Even I used to call up my friends everyday! (Something rare because I hate
phone calls)
The other reason was because I could surf daily on my cell phone.
Multiply has a wap site, so I could visit multiply daily and check posts. I
also scrapped a lot of friends on orkut. (Apart from Multiply and Orkut I
have not joined any other social networking site).
It was a poor substitute to my normal broadband connection, but beggars
can’t be choosers, as the cliché goes.
But today was the last day for the illusion of normalcy to persist.
From tomorrow, a different normalcy will be enforced upon us, a normalcy
where we are cut off the rest of the world.
From tomorrow, our ship will be a self contained island once again.
Season’s Greetings Everyone!
It’s the most Non-denominational Greetings I can offer you for free. (I
charge for Hanukkahs and janmashtamis)
P.s. I read what I just wrote. It's the most uninspiring, insipid thing I've
written so far. All the best to my readers!
p.s. Let me crack a one last pj ...
Ye na meri hain na teri...
(Wah Wah Wah!)
Ye na meri hain na teri
(Wah Wah Wah)
Par hain sabki x-mas
Toh mat bolo Merry X-mas
Bolo Sabki X-mas
Happy X-mas
(Wah Wah Wah!)
(Wow , I've hit a new low in poor standards of writing)
Received: from C6XB2 at Globe Wireless; Thu, 25 Dec 2008 10:16 UTC
Message-id: 709454970S35
We were loading butane in three of our four cargo tanks to discharge it in
South Korea and Japan.
Now we have departed from Australia, never to return again (until next time)
on X-mas evening.
We are tired. Dog Dead Tired.
I haven't slept in the last 18 hrs.
This isn't something new. It happens a lot.
Welcome to my world.
There's a saying here on the ship...'On a ship, there are no Sundays ‘,
which is true, because every day is a work day no matter what and will
remain so until you sign off and go home.
A ship berthed next us went on a strike and refused to work on x-mas eve and
x-mas and the day after .We salute their foolhardy courage. (And tch tch
their short spanned careers)
But the 3 weeks prior to that was something else...We went to Botany, roamed
around in Sydney, and then anchored for a long time in Bonython.
In Bonython a sense of normalcy had crept in sneakily. We felt like we were
ashore.
We all had local sim cards and were talking to friends and family every day.
Even I used to call up my friends everyday! (Something rare because I hate
phone calls)
The other reason was because I could surf daily on my cell phone.
Multiply has a wap site, so I could visit multiply daily and check posts. I
also scrapped a lot of friends on orkut. (Apart from Multiply and Orkut I
have not joined any other social networking site).
It was a poor substitute to my normal broadband connection, but beggars
can’t be choosers, as the cliché goes.
But today was the last day for the illusion of normalcy to persist.
From tomorrow, a different normalcy will be enforced upon us, a normalcy
where we are cut off the rest of the world.
From tomorrow, our ship will be a self contained island once again.
Season’s Greetings Everyone!
It’s the most Non-denominational Greetings I can offer you for free. (I
charge for Hanukkahs and janmashtamis)
P.s. I read what I just wrote. It's the most uninspiring, insipid thing I've
written so far. All the best to my readers!
p.s. Let me crack a one last pj ...
Ye na meri hain na teri...
(Wah Wah Wah!)
Ye na meri hain na teri
(Wah Wah Wah)
Par hain sabki x-mas
Toh mat bolo Merry X-mas
Bolo Sabki X-mas
Happy X-mas
(Wah Wah Wah!)
(Wow , I've hit a new low in poor standards of writing)
Received: from C6XB2 at Globe Wireless; Thu, 25 Dec 2008 10:16 UTC
Message-id: 709454970S35
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Ghost Stories
She told me stories that kept me begging for more.
Scary stories with ghostly sirens dressed in white, who walked in the dead
of the night, luring unsuspecting men to certain doom.
These sirens' footprints appeared in reverse, confirming their origins from
the perverse netherworlds.
I don't know what I fell in love with...with her or with her stories.
I asked her to marry me.
I was ten.
She was nineteen.
I've always gone for older women.
The age difference didn't really matter, as long as she kept those ghost
stories coming.
She refused.
I wasn't her type.
I placed forth an irresistible deal, an offer so enticing that no woman in
her right mind could refuse.
I'd give her my favorite cap if she agreed to the marriage. It was the one
with the blue superman logo on it that I had won in the local fair a few
days ago.
She laughed, but then realized my seriousness by the manner in which I
presented my offer.
She took the cap and said that she'd have to think about it.
I gave her a week, no more.
Otherwise I'd take my cap back.
I was serious about this too.
In that week, she told me many more stories -scarier ones, ones with bigger
monsters and grislier endings.
I think she liked me.
It was the happiest week of my life.
Also it was the week where I was scared shitless.
I fell deeper in love.
She returned to her home at the end of the week.
Years later I met her again.
Only this time I was nineteen, she was not.
Married and with a year old kid, but still as beautiful as before, if not
more.
Age had not diminished anything of her.
She approached and placed her year old on my lap.
I held it gingerly, not knowing when it would pee or puke on me.
(For such was the nature of one year olds)
She said she still had my cap.
And the kid played with it sometimes.
Received: from C6XB2 at Globe Wireless; Tue, 23 Dec 2008 12:49 UTC
Message-id: 708959900S46
Scary stories with ghostly sirens dressed in white, who walked in the dead
of the night, luring unsuspecting men to certain doom.
These sirens' footprints appeared in reverse, confirming their origins from
the perverse netherworlds.
I don't know what I fell in love with...with her or with her stories.
I asked her to marry me.
I was ten.
She was nineteen.
I've always gone for older women.
The age difference didn't really matter, as long as she kept those ghost
stories coming.
She refused.
I wasn't her type.
I placed forth an irresistible deal, an offer so enticing that no woman in
her right mind could refuse.
I'd give her my favorite cap if she agreed to the marriage. It was the one
with the blue superman logo on it that I had won in the local fair a few
days ago.
She laughed, but then realized my seriousness by the manner in which I
presented my offer.
She took the cap and said that she'd have to think about it.
I gave her a week, no more.
Otherwise I'd take my cap back.
I was serious about this too.
In that week, she told me many more stories -scarier ones, ones with bigger
monsters and grislier endings.
I think she liked me.
It was the happiest week of my life.
Also it was the week where I was scared shitless.
I fell deeper in love.
She returned to her home at the end of the week.
Years later I met her again.
Only this time I was nineteen, she was not.
Married and with a year old kid, but still as beautiful as before, if not
more.
Age had not diminished anything of her.
She approached and placed her year old on my lap.
I held it gingerly, not knowing when it would pee or puke on me.
(For such was the nature of one year olds)
She said she still had my cap.
And the kid played with it sometimes.
Received: from C6XB2 at Globe Wireless; Tue, 23 Dec 2008 12:49 UTC
Message-id: 708959900S46
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Kabayan Paso
Bims had very clear cut instructions.
'If somebody greets you with kabayan paso, you reply with a paso, nothing
else...no too much blah blah blah...or may be ...maybe they find out'
'Ok Bims', I said , obeying my new guide and secretly getting excited at the
same time.
Maybe in future I could be an undercover agent !
Rao !
Vikas Rao !
Neither Shaken, nor stirred...I'll have extra olives though ! And could you
pass on the 'License to Kill' please !
Dishkaawww !
Loneliness is a hunger.
Loneliness is a hunger that refuses to be fed.
The irony is evident.
Even as I crave human contact,
I am demanding and withdrawn
leading to a spiral of isolation...
And unbelongingness keeps me stuck in it.
Unbelongingness and loneliness are good bedfellows, for one shadows the
other...No...Loneliness and Unbelongingness are more of soul mates, for each
feeds and augments the other.
But unbelongingness has a paradoxical dichotomy within itself.
It is because someone like me does not belong anywhere that I can just as
easily fit in everywhere.
Although I've been mistaken for a foreigner in India, in cities like
Bangalore or in my hometown of Mangalore where people mistake me for an out
-of-towner, I've also been mistaken for being a local dude just about
everywhere else including Indonesia,Malyasia,Thailand,South
Africa,Canada,Argentina,Australia.
By Russell Peters' definition I'm a Beige Baby and that certainly helps.
By the virtue of unbelongingness, thus a person can belong anywhere!
Bims told me that the locals would not fleece me because I looked like I was
100% genuine pinoy!
Now, I just had to act pinoy enough!
I told him,' C'mon, I can be a Filipino very easily!'
'For starters ...I like karaoke !'
'Hey, I too can belt out classics, like Desperado, Annie's Song, Leaving on
a Jet Plane, Can't cry hard enough etcetera etcetera...'
'Hell! I can easily fool the locals'
'I'll just whip out my version of Hotel California for them!'
Cool!
Rao!
Vikas Rao!
International man of mystery and intrigue, an intrepid adventurer and a
consummate seducer of women, now! With a License to Thrill!
Dishkaaww !
Hey, once in Korea, the locals called us Americans.
Maybe it was because we were a bit too loud.
(And a wee bit drunk, or it might be the other way around, I'm not sure now)
But here in batangas there was a problem.
While Bims and I could pass off as Filipinos, the chief engineer's bright
red turban was sticking out like a sore thumb and there was no way in hell
we could convince the locals otherwise.
But the chief engineer had come prepared. He said we needn't worry.
He told us the colorful history of Sikhs in Philippines, and how some of
the more enterprising Sikhs made a living in this country as loan
sharks..Ahem... "Money Lenders"
These "Money Lenders" were known to the locals as 5-6 because of the strange
chronological rituals they maintained while lending money. But they were
honest loan sharks...ahem Money Lenders.
The locals also called Sikhs 'Satellites'(because of the strange dish
antennas they sported on their heads, oops ... I mean turbans!)
Early in the morning, we went to the market and got a good look at the
general hustle and bustle and the brisk business of street vendors.
But what interested me was something entirely different.
'Bims! These girls are beautiful! , I don't know why you like Indian Girls
so much...these here are gorgeous !' I exclaimed.
'Maybe...longtime on ship ...so you find every girl beautiful', Bims
replied.
Could be true you know.
You know how thirsty a man gets in the desert don't you?
A shippy friend of mine had once given me some sage advice.
He said,' Don't ...I repeat; don't meet girls for at least two weeks once
you have come home.
The mind ...will be weak and you will fall in love with the first girl you
meet...and you will end up marrying her...and believe me, you don't want to
do that...there are so many fish in the sea , and you don't want to end up
with a chum bucket !'
A true sailor at heart, he's always got a fishy metaphor or euphemism at
hand!
Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it.
Advice is a form of nostalgia and dispensing it is a way of fishing the past
from the disposal, wiping it off ,painting over the ugly parts and recycling
it for more than it's worth.
-'Everybody's Free (to wear Sunscreen)
My friend, the one with the sage advice, had after nine long months at sea
come home, fallen in love and married the girl he had never met before in
his life -all within three months.
People told him he was crazy and acting too fast.
He disagreed.
It was true love, he said.
But now he agrees with those people and is considering the temporary
insanity plea!
Bims, Chief Engineer and I then went to worship the Gods of Mall-land.
We had some retail therapy in mind.
Consumerism is supposed to keep the economy buoyant, so what the heck? , we
thought and went to the nearest SM mall to spend some money and keep the
global economy buoyant for a while.
Every time I go to a mall, I always have a specific goal.
This time it was to buy underwear.
I believe that everyone must wear great underwear, sexy underwear or at
least something that would not gross out people when you are in your undies.
Unfortunately, due to a laundering accident, most of my jockey briefs had
come to resemble adult diapers in form, consistency and shape.
Keeping in spirit with my Underwear policy, my quest in this mall was for
sexy underwear. (For men)
Everywhere I went, I spoke exclusively in English, and though the
salespeople would initially respond in English, they would eventually slip
into Tagalog.
Their provincial rat-tat-tat-rapid fire Tagalog.
Now, I've always asked Bims to teach me tagalog.And it has always roused his
worst suspicions.
'WHY? Why You want to learn ? 'Bims would ask...
My reply would always be 'There's this chick...you see... that I want to
impress ...She's the coolest chick ever, and the best part is that she...'
'No! ...Your English is good enough' Bims would say before lapsing into a
catatonic silence.
So, as a result, I didn't understand much of what the salespeople said when
they switched over to rat-tat-tat rapid fire Tagalog.
It was all gibberish. Like chinese.Like japanese.Like korean.Like...you get
the picture
'No! No! Only English! No Tagalog!'
Crap! I must have come across as a snooty Filipino who insisted that they
only spoke in English with me!
Finally, I had landed at one spot in the mall where they sold men's
underwear.
'Sirrr...May I help you Sirrr...' She purred from behind.
The atmosphere was electrically charged, and the hair stood on the back of
my neck...
I had goose bumps!
It was love at first Hear...
I turned around, and it was love at first sight!
A compact powerhouse of a filipina, short, no more than 5 feet tall, needle
straight hair parted evenly and falling gracefully onto the shoulders,
complimenting that heart shaped face with those large almond eyes and soft
kissable lips and that oh-so-cute button like nose.
'Say that again, babe! Say that again!' I said.
I'm a very aural person.(No I haven't tried phone sex.Not yet.The holes are
too small. a Ha.).I have a strong auditory representational system.
I'm a connoisseur of beautiful pitch perfect voices...And I had found the
perfect specimen...
How could I not fall in love ?
How could I ?
I have always found the Filipino English the sexiest south east Asian
english.It has so many flavours,so many sonorous plosives,and such rich
timbre!
It sounds so exotic...so much like Spanish !
But initially understanding it was a bit difficult.
But it had that 'Banderas Effect' on me.
First let me explain the Banderas Effect.
When Antonio Banderas first burst into Hollywood, women suddenly discovered
the Banderas effect.
The effect always elicited the following response from scores of love struck
women
'I don't know what he just said, but he sounds so damn sexy !'
And so I said' Say that again ,babe ! Say that again !' with puppy dog eyes.
A bit confused, she repeated,'Sirrrr...?'
'May I help you Sirrrrr....?' she purred deeply , spurred by my amorous
response.
'Bims ! ', I whispered hoarsely, 'Can you talk to this girl, ask her if she
wants to go out with me ?'
'No ! , Maybe ...maybe...Her parents come with sticks, maybe they kill you'
Bims said apprehensively/laconically.
I've found that whenever Bims uses the word 'Maybe', he is very sure.
So it made it difficult more difficult that I had to buy underwear from her.
Incidentally , the tag line of the brand helped me buy my sexy underwear!
The tagline said' Sexier than Nude', and the poster boy was a handsome male
model with puffed pecs,bulging bi's and rippled abs.
Hey , I wanna look like that !(But not so gay)
So I bought 'x' underwear, for it was the only men's underwear that promised
to be 'Sexier than Nude'.
I have always thought that men have never looked sexy when totally nude.
The flaccid penis (or the limp dick) is perhaps the most pathetic thing
anyone has seen apart from a soggy noodle or(insert your own version of the
most pathetic thing)
You may not share my view, but I've stood for hours in front of the mirror,
naked and flexing,jiggling,jumping and doing all other things that would put
me away in the loony bin forever.
And I've never found myself remotely sexy...I look...well ...kinda funny
...and pathetic.
But excited by the prospect of looking sexier than nude, I bought 3 pairs in
Superman Blue,Banana Black and Ash Grey from my love, Gretchen...yes, that
was her name.
But taking heed of Bims' warnings of dire consequences involving sticks and
certain death , I bade a heavy hearted farewell to my love, to Gretchen.
But she didn't seem to notice that I was leaving.
She had to deal with another guy with big puppy dog eyes.
In retrospect , now I can tell you that you should never look for sexiness
in men's underwear.
Although I ended up buying the right size , my sexy underwear ended up being
too tight. So tight that it felt like my balls were in a bear hug ...All the
frickin' time.
Now I know how a Chippendale's dancer feels like.
The constant pressure ...it feels like someone is steadily squeezing. And
that's not a pleasant feeling...there is no wiggle room, no room for
expansion, it does not accommodate for sudden mood changes, or night time
woodies.
In the end , I had to revert back to my old and faithful jockeys.
After all they were the next best thing to being naked !
In the end, as we returned, I noticed that none of the locals had detected
me as an imposter.
So I wanted to see how far I could go with my subterfuge.
At the entrance at the jetty , at the security checkpoint , I greeted the
guard.
'Kabayan Paso !'
'Paso' he replied absently, as he went through my passport.
Then he realized .
He stopped.
He rechecked the passport thoroughly.
He let slip a wide toothy grin as he let me in.
He was shaking his head, talking in rat-tat-tat rapid fire Tagalog with his
partners. God only knows what he said.
Hey
James Bond Here I come !
p.s.BTW, what the heck does it mean ?
Received: from C6XB2 at Globe Wireless; Sat, 20 Dec 2008 12:49 UTC
Message-id: 708246503S342
'If somebody greets you with kabayan paso, you reply with a paso, nothing
else...no too much blah blah blah...or may be ...maybe they find out'
'Ok Bims', I said , obeying my new guide and secretly getting excited at the
same time.
Maybe in future I could be an undercover agent !
Rao !
Vikas Rao !
Neither Shaken, nor stirred...I'll have extra olives though ! And could you
pass on the 'License to Kill' please !
Dishkaawww !
Loneliness is a hunger.
Loneliness is a hunger that refuses to be fed.
The irony is evident.
Even as I crave human contact,
I am demanding and withdrawn
leading to a spiral of isolation...
And unbelongingness keeps me stuck in it.
Unbelongingness and loneliness are good bedfellows, for one shadows the
other...No...Loneliness and Unbelongingness are more of soul mates, for each
feeds and augments the other.
But unbelongingness has a paradoxical dichotomy within itself.
It is because someone like me does not belong anywhere that I can just as
easily fit in everywhere.
Although I've been mistaken for a foreigner in India, in cities like
Bangalore or in my hometown of Mangalore where people mistake me for an out
-of-towner, I've also been mistaken for being a local dude just about
everywhere else including Indonesia,Malyasia,Thailand,South
Africa,Canada,Argentina,Australia.
By Russell Peters' definition I'm a Beige Baby and that certainly helps.
By the virtue of unbelongingness, thus a person can belong anywhere!
Bims told me that the locals would not fleece me because I looked like I was
100% genuine pinoy!
Now, I just had to act pinoy enough!
I told him,' C'mon, I can be a Filipino very easily!'
'For starters ...I like karaoke !'
'Hey, I too can belt out classics, like Desperado, Annie's Song, Leaving on
a Jet Plane, Can't cry hard enough etcetera etcetera...'
'Hell! I can easily fool the locals'
'I'll just whip out my version of Hotel California for them!'
Cool!
Rao!
Vikas Rao!
International man of mystery and intrigue, an intrepid adventurer and a
consummate seducer of women, now! With a License to Thrill!
Dishkaaww !
Hey, once in Korea, the locals called us Americans.
Maybe it was because we were a bit too loud.
(And a wee bit drunk, or it might be the other way around, I'm not sure now)
But here in batangas there was a problem.
While Bims and I could pass off as Filipinos, the chief engineer's bright
red turban was sticking out like a sore thumb and there was no way in hell
we could convince the locals otherwise.
But the chief engineer had come prepared. He said we needn't worry.
He told us the colorful history of Sikhs in Philippines, and how some of
the more enterprising Sikhs made a living in this country as loan
sharks..Ahem... "Money Lenders"
These "Money Lenders" were known to the locals as 5-6 because of the strange
chronological rituals they maintained while lending money. But they were
honest loan sharks...ahem Money Lenders.
The locals also called Sikhs 'Satellites'(because of the strange dish
antennas they sported on their heads, oops ... I mean turbans!)
Early in the morning, we went to the market and got a good look at the
general hustle and bustle and the brisk business of street vendors.
But what interested me was something entirely different.
'Bims! These girls are beautiful! , I don't know why you like Indian Girls
so much...these here are gorgeous !' I exclaimed.
'Maybe...longtime on ship ...so you find every girl beautiful', Bims
replied.
Could be true you know.
You know how thirsty a man gets in the desert don't you?
A shippy friend of mine had once given me some sage advice.
He said,' Don't ...I repeat; don't meet girls for at least two weeks once
you have come home.
The mind ...will be weak and you will fall in love with the first girl you
meet...and you will end up marrying her...and believe me, you don't want to
do that...there are so many fish in the sea , and you don't want to end up
with a chum bucket !'
A true sailor at heart, he's always got a fishy metaphor or euphemism at
hand!
Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it.
Advice is a form of nostalgia and dispensing it is a way of fishing the past
from the disposal, wiping it off ,painting over the ugly parts and recycling
it for more than it's worth.
-'Everybody's Free (to wear Sunscreen)
My friend, the one with the sage advice, had after nine long months at sea
come home, fallen in love and married the girl he had never met before in
his life -all within three months.
People told him he was crazy and acting too fast.
He disagreed.
It was true love, he said.
But now he agrees with those people and is considering the temporary
insanity plea!
Bims, Chief Engineer and I then went to worship the Gods of Mall-land.
We had some retail therapy in mind.
Consumerism is supposed to keep the economy buoyant, so what the heck? , we
thought and went to the nearest SM mall to spend some money and keep the
global economy buoyant for a while.
Every time I go to a mall, I always have a specific goal.
This time it was to buy underwear.
I believe that everyone must wear great underwear, sexy underwear or at
least something that would not gross out people when you are in your undies.
Unfortunately, due to a laundering accident, most of my jockey briefs had
come to resemble adult diapers in form, consistency and shape.
Keeping in spirit with my Underwear policy, my quest in this mall was for
sexy underwear. (For men)
Everywhere I went, I spoke exclusively in English, and though the
salespeople would initially respond in English, they would eventually slip
into Tagalog.
Their provincial rat-tat-tat-rapid fire Tagalog.
Now, I've always asked Bims to teach me tagalog.And it has always roused his
worst suspicions.
'WHY? Why You want to learn ? 'Bims would ask...
My reply would always be 'There's this chick...you see... that I want to
impress ...She's the coolest chick ever, and the best part is that she...'
'No! ...Your English is good enough' Bims would say before lapsing into a
catatonic silence.
So, as a result, I didn't understand much of what the salespeople said when
they switched over to rat-tat-tat rapid fire Tagalog.
It was all gibberish. Like chinese.Like japanese.Like korean.Like...you get
the picture
'No! No! Only English! No Tagalog!'
Crap! I must have come across as a snooty Filipino who insisted that they
only spoke in English with me!
Finally, I had landed at one spot in the mall where they sold men's
underwear.
'Sirrr...May I help you Sirrr...' She purred from behind.
The atmosphere was electrically charged, and the hair stood on the back of
my neck...
I had goose bumps!
It was love at first Hear...
I turned around, and it was love at first sight!
A compact powerhouse of a filipina, short, no more than 5 feet tall, needle
straight hair parted evenly and falling gracefully onto the shoulders,
complimenting that heart shaped face with those large almond eyes and soft
kissable lips and that oh-so-cute button like nose.
'Say that again, babe! Say that again!' I said.
I'm a very aural person.(No I haven't tried phone sex.Not yet.The holes are
too small. a Ha.).I have a strong auditory representational system.
I'm a connoisseur of beautiful pitch perfect voices...And I had found the
perfect specimen...
How could I not fall in love ?
How could I ?
I have always found the Filipino English the sexiest south east Asian
english.It has so many flavours,so many sonorous plosives,and such rich
timbre!
It sounds so exotic...so much like Spanish !
But initially understanding it was a bit difficult.
But it had that 'Banderas Effect' on me.
First let me explain the Banderas Effect.
When Antonio Banderas first burst into Hollywood, women suddenly discovered
the Banderas effect.
The effect always elicited the following response from scores of love struck
women
'I don't know what he just said, but he sounds so damn sexy !'
And so I said' Say that again ,babe ! Say that again !' with puppy dog eyes.
A bit confused, she repeated,'Sirrrr...?'
'May I help you Sirrrrr....?' she purred deeply , spurred by my amorous
response.
'Bims ! ', I whispered hoarsely, 'Can you talk to this girl, ask her if she
wants to go out with me ?'
'No ! , Maybe ...maybe...Her parents come with sticks, maybe they kill you'
Bims said apprehensively/laconically.
I've found that whenever Bims uses the word 'Maybe', he is very sure.
So it made it difficult more difficult that I had to buy underwear from her.
Incidentally , the tag line of the brand helped me buy my sexy underwear!
The tagline said' Sexier than Nude', and the poster boy was a handsome male
model with puffed pecs,bulging bi's and rippled abs.
Hey , I wanna look like that !(But not so gay)
So I bought 'x' underwear, for it was the only men's underwear that promised
to be 'Sexier than Nude'.
I have always thought that men have never looked sexy when totally nude.
The flaccid penis (or the limp dick) is perhaps the most pathetic thing
anyone has seen apart from a soggy noodle or(insert your own version of the
most pathetic thing)
You may not share my view, but I've stood for hours in front of the mirror,
naked and flexing,jiggling,jumping and doing all other things that would put
me away in the loony bin forever.
And I've never found myself remotely sexy...I look...well ...kinda funny
...and pathetic.
But excited by the prospect of looking sexier than nude, I bought 3 pairs in
Superman Blue,Banana Black and Ash Grey from my love, Gretchen...yes, that
was her name.
But taking heed of Bims' warnings of dire consequences involving sticks and
certain death , I bade a heavy hearted farewell to my love, to Gretchen.
But she didn't seem to notice that I was leaving.
She had to deal with another guy with big puppy dog eyes.
In retrospect , now I can tell you that you should never look for sexiness
in men's underwear.
Although I ended up buying the right size , my sexy underwear ended up being
too tight. So tight that it felt like my balls were in a bear hug ...All the
frickin' time.
Now I know how a Chippendale's dancer feels like.
The constant pressure ...it feels like someone is steadily squeezing. And
that's not a pleasant feeling...there is no wiggle room, no room for
expansion, it does not accommodate for sudden mood changes, or night time
woodies.
In the end , I had to revert back to my old and faithful jockeys.
After all they were the next best thing to being naked !
In the end, as we returned, I noticed that none of the locals had detected
me as an imposter.
So I wanted to see how far I could go with my subterfuge.
At the entrance at the jetty , at the security checkpoint , I greeted the
guard.
'Kabayan Paso !'
'Paso' he replied absently, as he went through my passport.
Then he realized .
He stopped.
He rechecked the passport thoroughly.
He let slip a wide toothy grin as he let me in.
He was shaking his head, talking in rat-tat-tat rapid fire Tagalog with his
partners. God only knows what he said.
Hey
James Bond Here I come !
p.s.BTW, what the heck does it mean ?
Received: from C6XB2 at Globe Wireless; Sat, 20 Dec 2008 12:49 UTC
Message-id: 708246503S342
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)