bypassing blondes and fake boobs..

We have all been there…heartbreaks and heartthrobs. The recurring feeling we attach to, of that first kiss, the first intimate sharing of bodies. But the west is different from the east when it comes to sharing of bodies. The west went free, with pretenses; the east, went repressed, no pretenses. The Kamasutra was merely a guide to point at what lovers shouldn't be practising!

I am an easterner meeting the westerner only to find myself in an internal tug of war as to what constitutes love. Is it simply lust? Interchangeable? Lust in love? Love in lust? Which precedes what and what sustains? Lust dissipates as most academics confirm. Love transcends. But what is the middle path between the vagina and the heart? And how do we abandon the mind in all this?

Recently I learnt that my ex lover has moved on rather quickly to finding his next kill, he being the hunter, never the hunted. Well, return my bloody fancy BBQ grill first, then talk the talk, before your next piece of meat gets skewered! The dating Statute of Limitation still ticks if it's less than a month since you broke up and your ex lover is still holding on (shamelessly being as frugally rich he is) to your property as he marinates his next tandoori white chicken!

But it’s the truth, men are poor, fragile beings, they move rapidly to find their next relationship, their next validation for their manhood. Of course you have to give them the handicap of being closed, emotionally bankrupt and hardened, only because society raised them as unfeeling and un-vulnerable brawns…toughen up boy!! Hunt, gather, kill, oppress, rape, conquer BUT never shed a tear…weakness …weakness, you pussy!

And talking about pussy, that existential pussy(cat) is THE toughest human body part and muscle power within mankind. You meet a man who touts he is a feminist and then you hear him refer to weaknesses as a pussy, BAH! Drop his derogatory ass right then!

You see a man type ‘your’ instead of ‘you are’ in text..drop him! It's not funny, even if he says he knows the difference..sir, how lazy are you to not correct despite knowing? There is no excuse for blatant bad grammar indolence. 

You hear a man blame your PMS as your personal insecurity as you catch his roving eyes checking out every chic and teen body that rolls by, DROP HIM! He is not worth the discussion. No honey, it wasn't the lamppost you were ogling at...yes, your head did make a complete 180 as you saw her face drive off, and yes, you did stop mid-sentence while talking to me when you saw her posterior end in a bikini...that's simply keen observation by both of us, not PMS. Definitely DROP HIM, because it reeks of a redder red flag when you are in a new relationship and yet the man is caught looking outward than being immersed in the fabulous you. 

No wait, there is another redder of the reddiest red flags, you find a man who insists on you using his disgusting, grimy, moldy guest bathroom where he washes his shiny hairless head for boxed hair color bleeds to give the illusion of youth and of the bed of thick grass that once upon a time adorned his scalp, while he uses his squeaky clean, lavish post-modern, wannabe Dadaistic master bathroom converted into a bedroom with a queen bed fitted into it congruently, then unequivocally, indubitably and unquestionably DROP HIM! You don't want to be sleeping in a weird bathroom which you are prohibited into using while you hear him trickle three times at night! That's the bizarrest of gender discrimination ever..

Sometimes we girls, are stupid and idealists. We try to reason and communicate. We try to find value within variables and objectivity and try to salvage. Hell no. Wisen up. Listen to your gut. Sometimes, communication also means that he will tear you down to every molecule of text and sentence that he can barely hold within the realms of proper english grammar, just to prove his macho-ism...

Run. 

Lola. 

Run. 

Lila. Run!

Especially if they are borgs with titanium body parts, hunting for comfort zone blondes with equitable fake booby parts to match their fake hearts, but suddenly they stumble upon extraordinary brilliant brunettes with wit, versatility and passion…run...I ran - 5 months too late.

“Masculinity is what you believe it to be. I think masculinity and femininity is something that's very old-fashioned. There's a whole new generation of people who aren't defined by their sex or race or who they like to sleep with. “Johnny Weir – American Olympian figure skater, fashion designer, commentator.

The obsessive chatter of too much Romano-Parmesan - a story

When Van Gogh decided to self-mutilate by chopping off his entire left ear, it wasn’t coming from a place of self-preservation from incessant nagging by his lover. He was coming from a place of relating to his lover’s scars and giving her a gift of sacrifice to establish that human connection…also known as madness.

Personally I deem madness as, as understated as Apple Cider Vinegar. But the topic of this post is not about the versatility of ACV but rather the versatility of madness that which we all exude time to time, a gift of sorts, no one is immune, madness does not discriminate. Tell me you are sane and you join Loonville as our president! No, not Trump. He is just the Nero-God we loons pray when we subconsciously run out of Gods, okay,  I don’t want to go there…lend me your ears on this story…(chopped is fine too)…

Captains Log Stardate November 8, 2018, a budding romantic love: Antonio was leaving early to hike with his friends. He left her two slices of bread to toast when she woke up, for breakfast. Arya was feeling good, Saturday, beautiful, breathtaking ocean views, a cup of Darjeeling tea, and those toasts eventually to get lathered in some generous Costco jelly that Arya was toasting in that swanky machine at Antonio’s place. Somehow within the soaking of the views and the sipping of the perfect cuppa tea, Arya had missed monitoring the bread and the end product that greeted her was alas, black carcasses of what once could be called gluten.

She panicked. Arya didn’t want to rummage through his refrigerator looking for replacements. She was starving. The Indian in her took over, the meditative act of scraping the carbon and salvaging the remnants was all that mattered as Arya deftly armed herself with a butter knife and consecrated the process, only to realize that that very act of innocent scraping was going to result in her being viewed as the Bride in Kill Bill …causing mayhem in a white man’s perfect white kitchen. And then, there was blood …also known as black crumbs all over the sink, the window sill, the countertop, the floors! And Arya, the Bride, perceived as cold blooded, without any compelling urgency to clean up, or to plan her kills meticulously like Dexter, but to enjoy in peace, organic chemistry, what she had successfully salvaged…as the minority…slightly browned yet not blackened.

When Ant(onio) walked into the kitchen Arya was cluelessly bantering with her family, and then she saw him as his eyes scanned the kitchen like an insidious drone. His lips tightened, eyeballs bulging from their resident sockets as if they were experiencing serious trama..genocide…doomsday…castration?? Arya quickly hung up.

“Sorry babe, I burnt the toast..”

“I can smell it.”

He teleported himself to the kitchen cleaning rapidly…

“I was gonna clean it but I was still eating breakfast..”

“Why didn’t you just toast new bread..what did you do!”

“I didn’t want to rummage through the refrigerator and thought I could save something off the bread and so I scraped…”

“The crumbs are all over the sink, the windows..you destroyed my house!”

“Sorry…I was just going to clean…”

“where all did you go?”…as he started mapping her movements, her imaginative brain raced as she saw a crowd gather over the yellow tape quarantining the kitchen. Arya envisioned him as Sherlock Holmes with large magnifying glasses tracking coordinates of burnt bread crumbs. On the bright side they were easier to spot!

“well…I sat here and then I touched that…I went over there and then back here…”

But wait a second. What in the holy matrimony of holy cows had just happened?? All she did was scrape burnt toast …then why did she feel like being interrogated by Gestapo??

She started crying. She didn’t know how else to react.

Ant eventually cleaned up the entire kitchen and living room to his satisfaction while Arya watched like a scared inmate. Then came the revelation…

“Arya, I am ocd. I can’t stand crumbs, they attract ants, I hate ants.”

“Well, what does that mean? I don’t want to feel like I did something criminal…?”

“look many people who have ocd don’t even acknowledge that as an issue…infact they see it as a positive. They are clean, organized, meticulous, disciplined, and successful. But I have tried mindfulness and other things and I still hate crumbs and ants.”

“Okay but this so hard…I feel like shit…all I did was burn toast…but the reaction, you turned into a different person, your face, your eyes... changed.”

“you were disrespecting and destroying my home…why didn’t you just trash that and take a new one?”

“But only I wasn’t…I was just trying to salvage…”

Of course Arya had had not much experience with OCDs - Organized Cautious Dude? Overtly Clever Dialectologist? Obsessive Coital Desires? Oddly Cloned Dick? She could go on in her quirky, crazy, creative brain coming up with suitable expansions of that acronym. Perhaps she was OCD too! Would repeated thoughts in the brain qualify, for she did have those when she was attached to someone? Or a song that would keep playing in loops in her head or the nag of her mother reminding her to eat more and put on some meat in her bones… for this was all new to her. But then humor kicked in as a coping deviation as she conjured up the possibility that there was great business and marketing potential here, SCREW BREAD, imagine all the relationships one could salvage instead with a few inventions, she thought:

1    Wormhole: A time bending smart app. According to particle physicist James Beacham, one proposed method of time travel was via wormholes. “We know that space can be bent. If space can be bent by, say, gravity, then spacetime can be bent,” Space is the three-dimensional body in which all things in the universe move. Spacetime, however, is the combined concepts of space and time into a four-dimensional continuum. If spacetime can be bent, Beacham says, it’s theoretically possible that time can be bent. Okay, so now, given that premise, imagine, Arya sees the precise moment of Ant’s face changing as his brain sees the bloodbath, she hangs up, clicks the app, pauses him like they show in the sci-fi movies Arya was addicted to, Arya DOESNT eat toast that day, she eats a banana, sorry, she eats two bananas. Then Arya restarts the app. Life is good. Thank you wormholes.

2    Pelican Beak Bibs (not Pelican Briefs) – laid out right with your table arrangements, an adult catch it all bib, for those unsuspecting lovers and guests. “No offence, please leave shoes outside door, please put this bib on prior to eating.” Kapisce?

3   Glow in the dark bread – this is self-explanatory, especially when one is burning toast during midnight snacks, easy to track.

4   Glow in the dark bread crumb magnet – self-explanatory again. With a bit of research we can figure out the exact frequency and electricity to attract glowing crumbs. Should mitigate night conflicts, those were the tough ones. Arya hated going to bed mad.

5   Toaster Ovens that auto destruct burnt bread – the next gen of toaster ovens. They will save love lives. These toaster ovens also vaporize crumbs to a poof. An inbuilt crematorium. Ventless. No cleaning needed. Side effect – could make kitchen towels a bit less needed.

6   Tornado vacuum – this is an inconspicuous vacuum that micro targets your entire home through your home circulation system. It creates a mini tornado, soundless, tasteless, odorless that whizzes and dances around your target area picking up with it a dust storm of crumbs and missed cheerios, including under the bed, sofa, refrigerator, corners of ovens, and then rises towards the ceiling and dissipates through the vents. The vacuum itself sits in some offsite server like area, say your garage. No traces are left behind. No dna altered. On second thought, about soundless, replace that thought with some ethereal Enya music, hmm!

Anyways, long story short (as Ant always said), they let that pass. It was something Arya had to let go to move forward. While in her mind, Arya had watched the entire Kurukshetra unfold before her eventually leading to Arjuna asking the profound questions to Krishna as to the futility of it all..and bizarrely enough, Enrique Eglasias butting in saying “she’s gonna make you move to Miami …she got that ass”..