Sunday, July 27, 2008
"She was the hottest Indian girl I've ever seen" he said. "I have never seen an Indian girl with such a slammin body" he uttered. My friend began to tell me how he was at the airport, and as most bodacious bodies on women tend to do, this body caught his eye. A tight white blouse, and a black skirt where hugging her in all the right places. Being posessed/intrigued/curious, he made his way over to her, to see the rest of her. "I walked past her on one side, and just from the side of her face, she was amazing. She had sexy lips, and a nice skin tone, with high cheek bones. I'm telling you bro, this girl was gorgeous." I replied, "Wow, that sounds like something. How'd you know she was Indian?" "You could tell, she definately had the classical Indian features and stuff, so if you see her, you'd definately be able to tell she was Punjabi." So he's carrying on describing her in vivid detail, and I'm just amazed, because it takes a lot to get my friend to talk like this about a girl, so I was under the impression that this girl must've just been a goddess from his description. "So what about the other part of her face?" I asked. "You said, you only saw one side right, you didn't get a chance to see the other side of her face?" He says to me "Oh hell yeah, I went in for a close up, and that's when I saw it" he says. "What, dude? What did you see?" I exclaimed.
There are times in this world when two people are such good friends they can almost finish the other person's thoughts. Its hard to explain, but you just know the other person so well, because they think just like you do, and as a result before the person can say something, you almost expect it coming. "She had a herpes sore!" he said to me. "Dude! That's Awesome! A hot chick that gets down!" I yelled back. By now the few folks who were sitting around us and intrigued by this story were privately chuckling by the griminess of me and my friend, but it was true. "Dude, you are the only person who I've told this story to whose had the same exact reaction as me! That is fricken Awesome!" I can't explain it, but for some reason instead of being grossed out by that detail, I immediately pictured a hot chick that's a freak, and it was absolutely hilarious. I couldn't even believe my instant reaction.
"So what happened? You talk to her?" I asked. "Na bro, I saw her man come up to her a few seconds after I saw the mark of love". "What a lucky guy eh?" "You know, I guess there's somebody for everybody" he said. Unfortunately after this discussion, all I could think of were the Valtrex ads, and how everyone claims "to be doing their part", and I was quite hesitant to talk to any female in the bar after that. I figured if she heard our conversation, she was either disgusted with us, or she probably had Herpes and now had new-found confidence and was ready for a one-night fling with someone that's got their head in the gutter.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
In any case, many years ago, I was at such a Maha-Pooja, and after it was done, I was volunteered to drop the Poojari off at the airport since his services were required in another state. Mind you, we were in central New Jersey, and the Poojari had to go to JFK airport in New York City. If you've never been to JFK airport, you should know that in order to get there you have to cross through the monumentous traffic of several boroughs of New York City. It is not fun, and in the summer time it gets quite annoying. I was young, and could not yell "Not it!" fast enough, and as a result I was nominated to make the trek. Just thinking about the journey made me flabbergasted, and I was not looking forward to the task at hand. At this point, I probably would've rather gone swimming in a pool full of piranhas and then taken a salt-water bath instead of putting up with that traffic.
In any case, I was the sucker, and I had to go, so I sucked it up, and got in my car with this Poojari. He was a tall, bald man. He wore glasses, and was overweight. His hair that surrounded his bald dome, was tied in a small little tail in the back by a rubber band. He had these Sherlock Holmes type glasses that constantly slid down his sweaty & oily nose, and the fact that he spent every two minutes pushing them back up, added to his quirky personality. I had never met the man before, but several hours in traffic, will certainly cause a man to open up to you. "What are you looking for in life? Are you on the path you want to be on? Can you turn up the air conditioner?" were some of the several thought-provoking questions he asked. The whole time I was trying to listen to the radio, and avoid these questions, because at the age of 22, you're probably more worried about your next female victim, then wonder about these types of things.
We were finally cruising a bit, and took the exit for the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway off of the Verrazano Bridge. I thought I was doing well since the speedometer had actually hit 40 mph, and I thought another 2 hours and I'd be home free. We take the exit, and to my dismay the traffic is worst then ever. There are 3 lanes, and all of them are packed. Cars were sitting bumper-to-bumper and there was nothing to do but sit, wait, and ponder life. I was trying to make some small talk to kill the time, and avoid it being a one-way conversation. As I was doing this I noticed in my rear view mirror a motorcycle was driving. It was driving in the small gap created between the lanes of cars. Apparently there was enough space for this guy with his motorcycle to weave in between the lanes of traffic. I thought it was quite dangerous to do this, because there wasn't much room for error. In any case, I acknowledged the man's riding ability and dismissed it. I waived over to the car in the lane next to me, and he gave me the hand signal that when the traffic starts to move he would let me get in front of him in his lane.
As I was waiting for the traffic to move, I saw the stupidest thing ever. A man who was probably 6 ft. 5 in. and weighed about 300 lbs, was riding his bike in between the lanes. Then several more of his idiotic friends were wizzing by. I mean going a good 50 mph in between the lanes of cars! I didn't realize how many there were, but when it looked like the last of them had passed, the traffic started to move and so I proceeded to move in the next lane. Just then however, the traffic abruptly stopped, and I was now blocking the middle lane. I hear a loud screeching. Apparently another person was on his bike and still riding. I regretfully looked over my shoulder out my back window and I see a HUGE 6 ft.-something guy, with his girlfriend who was even bigger than him. This man looked like he was carrying a blimp on his motorcycle. On top of that he was trying to weave in between the lanes at 50 mph! He had to slam on his brakes because I was blocking the lane. BAM! BAM! BAM! I look back and this huge dude, is now hitting my car with his boulder-like fists, and yelling "I'm gonna fucking kill you asshole!" "You know what you just did!? Your fuckin dead! I'm gonna kill you!" This was followed by his blimp of a girlfriend yelling "Yeah, asshole, you dead! Ma man gonna fuck you up! You betta recka-nize!"
We were on the BQE, so I did the one appropriate thing to do. When the traffic moved, I got my ass out of there and started driving like I was fricken Mario Andretti! I thought I lost him, and I was in the last lane next to the divider. The traffic had stopped. After what happened next, so did my heart. To my left was the divider, to my right was the huge man who wanted to kill me with his girlfriend who probably wanted to eat me, in front of me was another one of his gang-riding friends, and behind me was some more people. I was isolated. The traffic was moving around me and they had cornered my Plymouth Acclaim on the middle of the freakin highway! They kept banging on the door, and telling me to come out, and of course I refused. At this point, the Poojari tells me not to do anything irrational! A little too late for that.
So here I am, 22 years old, and the last man who doesn't want to kill me I will see is this Poojari, I figured I"m going straight to the top at this point. The banging did not stop and neither did the threats. I figured if I was gonna get my ass kicked, I was gonna take one of them out too. I dropped the Acclaim into Neutral and started revving my engine. I figured, I'll at least take out the one guy in front of me by running him over, and the rest will be in god's hands. Besides the guy in front of me was skinny, with dread-locks and I think the only thing bigger than his hair was his ridiculous sunglasses. I say a quick prayer and put my hand on the gear shift. The engine is revving really loud and I figured, well this is the end. Before I drop the car into drive, the guy in front of me yells "He's a fuckin Hindu man!" "What the fuck?!?" Still being scared shit-less I look over at the Poojari and it turns out he's got the biggest red dot on his head. I overlooked it when he got in. So, I open my window, and yell "Yes, we are Hindus! We didn't see you driving in between the car lanes man!" "It was a fricken accident!" To which the big dude, who has beaten my car in says "You gotta use your eyes man. You gotta watch where your goin!" Then they all drove away. Of course the only thing I was thinking was "you gotta use your fuckin brains man, you can't be driving 50 mph in between a shit load of cars you ass monkey!"
I don't know why, and I don't know how, but for some reason that was it. They noticed the big red dot, and they told us to watch out, and they went on their way. I have a couple of theories:
1. Their doctor is a Hindu, and they don't want him messing with their health care, or cutting off their Viagra supply
2. The quickie mart owner is a Hindu, and they don't want to have their cigarette supply getting cut off
3. The guy really fears the fury and the wrath of the dot
I tell you what, the rest of that trip I enjoyed listening about life, and talking about the path I'm traveling, and what my plans are for the future.
Monday, July 21, 2008
First of all, what you think is really "crazy and cool" is probably not so crazy and cool to someone else. For example, a guy was telling me how he and his friends are so "wild", and that when he went to Vegas, they partied til like 4 AM. That's nice and all, but it doesn't mean much to someone like me, who has done that in New York, and made it to a 7 AM conference call afterwards. The worst has to be the people who tell you a story and then when the next person comes, the story just gets bigger and bigger. I was at a house party and someone was telling me "yeah bro, I had a bottle at this one club, and we were chilling with these girls who worked at Scores, and then we headed back to my place, for some you know what" he smirked. Then my buddy comes by, and the story becomes "yeah bro, we were at Bungalow 8, and I had a bottle of Cristal, and we were hanging out with Playmates, then we headed back to my place for you know what". Let me tell you something buddy....I DO know what. I know that there was no club, no bottles, no babes, and you headed back to your place for some late night Cinemax!
Its in times like these, when my cousin, has the best line. When this happens my cousin simply tells someone, "Yo, stop trying to impress me. I'm not impressed, so you can stop now." Simple, yet effective. With this new found line, I've begun my conquest to set people straight by putting one boastful person in place at a time. Sometimes the result has been a laugh, and at others its been a middle finger. However, the best is the pure look of shock on someone's face, when you actually call them out. If you want to see something funny, the next time someone starts telling you a story, utter these words "Yo, stop trying to impress me. It ain't workin", and the results will magnanimous.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Evan, my friends, has an ADDICTION. That's right, my friend who has everything in the world a man could want, also has an addiction. His addiction is not easy. Like all addictions he thinks he has it under control, but the truth is...your addiction controls you, never the other way around. For a long time he didn't realize he had an addiction, and he thought he was just being "normal" and it got him into a lot of trouble. He thought to himself "What? Everybody does it. What's the big deal"? Then came the denial, just the disbelief that he was different from everybody. How could someone that is so loved, be so flawed? He just refused to believe it.
It was a cold lonely night when Evan finally admitted he had a problem. He had just finished dinner with some colleagues, and they headed over to the Hustler Club for some after dinner drinks and "dessert" as he always called it. He was doing his thing. He was charming the women, and they in turn were taking care of Evan's clients. Everyone was happy. Then while he was sitting down and enjoying his drink one of the strippers sat on his lap and started talking to Evan and playing with his hair. Before he could realize what had happened two bouncers were carrying him out the door and threw him on the streets. "Kick that fucker's ass! He fucking tried to steal my thong! That low-life son of a bitch! I feel so violated" cried the stripper as she sobbed.
You see ladies and gentleman, my friend Evan is addicted to women's underwear. He can't get enough of it. He needs it. Its the reason why many women he's hooked up with never call him again, because its embarrasing getting into a cab without your underwear, and who would want to humiliate themselves that way? The worst came that night in the strip club, when he tried to slip the stripper's thong off while she was talking to him. In the midst of all the conversation and alcohol, he accidentally pulled too hard, and broke the thong. Not only was the stripper embarrased, but all her singles came falling down from the piece of nylon that was holding them in place. Evan, has never been the same since.
I always wondered why I never saw him with the same girl more than once, and after I knew the truth it all made sense. I figured sure its nice to be with a different gorgeous knock-out every night but at least one of them you'd like to see more than once. Anyhow, Evan is still the same charming guy he always was. However, he has to be careful with himself. He can't walk into a Target or worst - a mall by himself. The last time he tried that he was caught stealing the thong off of a manquin at Victoria's Secret, and I had to talk to security so they didn't press charges.
Addictions, are never easy. They are battles that have to be fought all the time, and require tremendous will power. Hopefully, some day, my friend Evan will be able to look at a woman's g-string or a thong as a part of her attire, and not as a symbol of conquest.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
However, British women take competition to a whole new level. According to this article 9 British women were arrested for competing in a sex competition! That's right at some point in their discussion about better recipes, to chugging, a woman may have proposed "Oh yeah, well I bet I can give better head than you!". Now as a guy there is only one thing left to ponder at this point. How does one create such an environment so women will start having these competitive thoughts? I mean if a guy knew how to put women in a situation where they'd want to compete with each other for sex, I think that would be a pretty powerful tool to have.
I can just imagine these guys overhearing a bunch of women talk about who is better at having sex. Then one of them approaches the women with a solution. "Listen, ladies. We hear you talking about this, and there is only one solution. We shall have a competition to see who is the greatest skin-slapper of you all, and award the winner a cash prize. Although, we are hear doing this for you, so you have peace of mind, we still agreed to pitch in, and at least give the winner something for her efforts. So what do you say?" The women, somehow probably saw this as the perfect solution. I'm willing to bet that after all the sex was done, the women had to stand before the men, and just like they do in the Gladiator movie the judge had to give a thumbs up or a thumbs down. As a result, the women got arrested for prostitution, and the men got charged with encouraging "obscene behaviour". Which says to me, the cop who arrested these people was just jealous because he was too ugly to get selected as a judge. I mean, I would love to be in that court hearing:
British woman number 1: "Your honor, these skanks claim to give better head than me, and I didn't want them showing me up. So when these guys over hear offered to judge the competition, and pay the winner, I thought it would be my time to shine. I'm not a ho, I'm just a woman with a dream to prove that I am the best at what I do"
Judge: I don't care how you put it, accepting cash for sex is prostitution and its illegal.
You can just picture the woman like the scene at the end of the Untouchables when Robert Deniro is yelling "Your Honor, is this Justice! Is this Justice!?!"
What also surprised me is that men in Europe can get arrested for "encouraging obscene behaviour". Listen, if that's the case men all over the world should be arrested right now, because no matter what is going on, men are ALWAYS encouraging obscene behaviour. How do you even go about measuring what is considered obscene? I mean, encouraging a sex competition may be obscene to one person, but might be worth $2.95 a minute to another.
All in all, after reading this article, I learned two things about myself. One - I really need to go to London, and Two - I gotta keep my ears open.
Friday, July 11, 2008
You pound it out with your boys, or kiss it out with your girls, and a cold beverage finds its way into the cup of your hands, and eventually into the back of your throat. A few more refreshing gulps, and it happens. The beverage releases the stress out of your body and into the air, and the DJ plays your favorite '80's song - perhaps Livin on a Prayer by Bon Jovi. A cheesy pickup line has gotten you into a conversation with a group of random hotties, and your boy (or girl) sees you from the other side of the lounge. In that moment there is only one thing left to do....you give your friend "The Duck Face." What is "The Duck Face" you ask? The Duck Face is the universal human reaction that signifies "I am the bom-dizzle". I got this situation under control, and probably one of these ladies under my sheets in a few hours. Its a universal sign that everyone knows, recognizes, and loves.
Where did the Duck Face originate from? Like many things we enjoy in this world, it is believed to have been originated by the Italians, and then Guidos of all backgrounds in the Tri-state area perfected it. Indians being the latest group of immigrants have only recently gotten in on the action. Just see this duck face below - this takes years of practice, and hours of hair molding:
The Duck Face says to your friends - "Yo, I am the MAN, and I run this shit! These bitches ain't got shit on me, and there is a very high probability that I will make an inappropriate proposition. In the event that my proposition is rejected as my best friend you are obligated to come by and make me feel better, and if all else fails we will throw up the Ballllin sign".
Unfortunately ladies and gentleman, I have a confession to make. I - The Indian Guy am addicted to The Duck Face - there I said it. I find myself giving this face ALL THE TIME and I believe its going to get me into trouble. Therefore, to warn you I've outlined some situations when you should NOT use The Duck Face.
The following are such situations:
1. Reviewing bio-datas with your parents
2. Peeing in a public bathroom
3. Sitting next to your best friend's girlfriend (or boyfriend)
4. Talking to your boss
5. Giving a speech
6. Getting a cab
7. In court
8. At a funeral
The following are situations that are encouraged to use the Duck Face:
1. In the gym (you are a beast and everyone should know it)
2. At dinner (the waitress should know that she is serving food to a certified pimp)
3. In the club (its just too easy)
4. Family reunions (let the family know that they should be proud of the stud you've grown up to be)
5. Graduation (A proper Duck Face says I'm out suckas!)
Whatever situation you are in, I advise you to use the Duck Face wisely. It is a great universal symbol that is known globally like the peace sign or hang loose. However, I sincerely urge you to not abuse this beautiful symbol of confidence, debauchery, and griminess which says in the words of P. Diddy that you will not stand for "Bitch-ass-ness"
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
While we were eating, Amy says to me "you know my husband's best friend is half Irish and half Indian, and he has a beautiful sister". Immediately my appetite faded, and I was all ears. "She has great skin, and light eyes". To which I respond, "well you know, I happen to be Irish on the inside, and probably have the liver of an Irishman. I think your friend's sister is in luck". We all got a good laugh out of that, and Amy continued to describe this girl to me. Meanwhile my co-worker Adam had lost his appetite and as we were sitting outside eating our salads our imaginations ran wild about the possible hotness that is this girl. After finishing describing her and her brother, and how they are such good friends with the family my friend Amy says to me "but there's one thing." Immediately, I'm thinking there always is. I figured she was gonna tell me the girl is recently married, or has joined the peace corps and gone to Africa. However, Amy says to me "she's aggressive". Before Amy could even finish saying those two words a dirty smile had crept across my face. I looked over at Adam, and the same dirty smile had made its way on his face as well.
In that funny little moment, I soon realized how truly different men and women are. You see, when Amy told me her friend was "aggressive" after all the beatiful description of her physique me and Adam were probably picturing Aishwarya Rai with the libido of Jenna Jameson, and we couldn't have been more excited. Meanwhile, Amy was saying things like "she's very controlling" which I translated as "Okay, maybe she likes to be on top? - I can live with that". However, she went on to describe how her friend can get a bit controlling at times. To this day, I have not met this person. However, I'm willing to bet my left nut that she's pretty hot and I'm sure she is controlling. I haven't met a hot girl who isn't. If you have met a hot girl that's not controlling, well you're in luck because she doesn't know that she's hot, and as soon as she does, she will become controlling.
All in all, I've realized that as much as we may try, as a guy whenever you hear about women you only hear things in relation to sex. Someone can tell you that they have a friend who has long beautiful hair, works out a lot, and is really book-smart, and we will imagine a hot librarian who takes the scrunchy out of her hair and lets it all fall back, and soon thereafter completely fulfills your desires. I don't know if we will ever change, but as they say "the day I don't think about it, is the day I'd die".
Monday, July 7, 2008
However, one of the most effective things you can do is speed dating. It creates a medium where you can actually get to know someone and yet keeps things familiar because your still "out" so you are not out of your element and may even feel comfortable using a pickup line such as "I put the S-T-D in STUD but all I need is U". So not too long ago, I decided to attend such an event. I tried to convince some of my friends to join me, but none of them agreed to come, so I ventured it alone. I soon realized that I was the only idiot who showed up to this thing without a friend. I then, proceeded to call my buddy D. "D, what you doin? Its 9 PM, I need to call in a favor" I panicked into my cell phone. "I'm sleeping bro, I had a rough night last night, what's up". "Dude, I'm at this speed dating thing for South Asians, and I totally need a wing man." "Alright, I'll be there, but just because its you and I feel bad for you since you were dumb enough to show up to this thing alone".
Thank god for friends like D. Without him, I would've been the creepy guy whose drinking by himself with no friends. I'm sure the ladies would've been lining up. So my buddy shows up on about 3 hours of sleep, and in just an "I don't give a fuck" kind of mood. The whole time I was eye-ing down this cutie. For some reason, I thought that if I stared at her long enough and hard enough she would notice me and think "Gee, there's a guy I can make out with". As it turns out I don't have super powers and she didn't turn towards me. So then, I did the next best thing and said Hi and struck up a small conversation. Soon thereafter, the speed dating was about to begin. Now the way it works is you go on like 15 - 20, three-minute dates. The girls sit there, and the guys rotate. The whole time you are just a number and a name. If at the end of the whole thing you liked a girl you can circle her name on your card, and if she likes you she can circle yours. If 2 people circle each other they both get emailed.
I'm a few drinks in now, and the cutie is looking even better. She sits down at one of the tables. Trying not to seem to desperate I wait, and try to box out any other dude going in that direction. Luckily for me, my friend D, happens to be a big dude, so he helps me in creating the spacious barrier. After a few moments I approach her table and sit down. We start chatting, and hit it off pretty well. She falls for some of my jokes, and I'm doing pretty damn good. I use a smooth pick up line such as "is it me, or were you just about to ask me to make out?" "Well, if you were, you should know I don't typically agree to such propositions, but I'd be willing to help you out". I told her it was the one place where I could get away with saying something like that, and still know that at least 15 other girls will be talking to me, so I figured why not take advantage of the opportunity?
The bell rang, and my time with her was up. I proceeded on to the other dates, but I kept glancing back at her. Meanwhile, my buddy was a few Johnny-Walker blacks in, and he had no sleep. The social filter of what to say and what not to say was officially left at home. He sat down next to a girl, and soon realized they didn't have much in common. Being the smooth guy that he is he states "Listen honey, let's be honest there's nothing going on here and I really don't have anything interesting to tell you. If you like I can lie and make up a good story, but the girl sitting next to us is by herself, why don't we make this a 3-way conversation?" While he was "on a date" with one girl he started talking to another! He probably proposed an inappropriate topic such as "Sex - sport or art?" because before I knew it the 3 of them were laughing and seemed to be having a good time.
So I was cruising from date to date proposing interesting questions such as "when was the last time you had a great nap?" or "would you go lesbo for Angelina Jolie?" Finally I was on my way to the last date, and I totally caught the cutie checkin me out! It was the best part of my night, I thought I was in. I mumbled my way through the last date and I think I told her something like "Oh yeah, I'm a plastic surgeon. My specialty happens to be breast enhancement. Not to say that you need any work done, but if your interested we can certainly talk", not realizing that I just used a line that I reserve for the strip clubs. The dating was done and the drinks were flowing at the bar. By now, D had become friends with everybody in the bar, and was quite the spectacle. It was kind of a weird scene because he was calling people out and they were loving it. Its kind of like that scene in Liar Liar when Jim Carrey starts telling people things like "get a new toupee, lose some weight, and do something about your mustache lady!" It was exactly like that, but it was a bunch of girls and they were eating it up.
Afterwards, D and I went to a few other bars, grabbed some food and called it a night. The next day, I went to a happy hour, and the cutie from the night before was there. However, before I could approach her some dude had cornered her. She gave me a smile, and I smiled back, and ended up chugging a healthy vodka tonic. I ended up meeting some other girls, and in fact did get another girl's phone number that night. However, my mind was still set on this one cutie. A few days passed, and I figured I hadn't made the cut.
Then it happened. At about 2:30 AM my phone goes off showing I received an email. It was from the speed dating thing. The cutie had circled me! I couldn't even sleep after that. I tried doing some sit-ups to get a last minute 6-pack thinking for some reason I would see her tomorrow and perhaps even get lucky. I waited a day or so to make sure I didn't seem desperate and sent her an email suggesting to meet up for a drink. She found me on facebook, and be-friended me and I thought things were going awesome. I then get the message being told, that I'm too young for her. I was shocked! I've heard some bad rejection lines, the most common being "I have a boyfriend", but to be told I was too young was just embarrassing. I then found out she was 32, and I was indeed too young for her which gave me some shred of pride. I thought about convincing her I can read at a 32-year old level, but I don't think that would've worked so well. So I settled for friendship, and haven't heard from her since.
By the way, if you're interested in the speed dating you can go to www.flirteve.com and sign up. Its really cool, and they often host unique events in Manhattan such as wine or chocolate tastings, and are now spreading to other metropolitan areas. Its a great way to meet people, but I can't promise the pickup lines will be as smooth as the ones mentioned in this article. All in all, its an excellent experience and definately time well spent. I would highly recommend them for a night out that's unique and memorable.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Well, luckily for you the Indian Guy has the answer and the standard of living alone is not a good sign of progress in society. The true sign of progress in a society is determined by how openly the society allows its members to talk a bout sex. That's right folks, I am of the firm belief that the more openly we are able to talk about sex, the farther along we've come as a civilization. With this measure in mind, I'd like to say India's society has progressed by leaps and bounds. Just look at this article below:
This article is from a news paper in India. There is a column by Sexologist Dr. Kavan Lakdawala. In this column his readers can send him some questions, and he gives appropriate sex advice. I'd like to take this moment, to substitute in for Dr. Lakdawala and give the advice of The Indian Guy on some of these questions that have come in:
I had tuberculosis a year ago. I'm off medication. Can I enjoy my sex life?
Hell yeah you can enjoy your sex life! You should've been getting some TB Sympathy sex, but because you didn't (since you were dumb enough to think you couldn't hump and recover at the same time) you now have to make up for it. Take out your dong-wrap and get to work buddy!
Recently I had sex with my wife. My foreskin tore. There are red spots on my penis. What is that?
First of all please take some grammar classes. Second, congratulations on having a wife you actually have sex with - that's great. The red-spots are what we Americans call "rug burn". It means you were at peak performance, and your break pads wore out, and you ended up cutting into your rotor.
I have pain in my lower leg. Could masturbation be the reason? I used to masturbate a lot but I've stopped now.
Okay, I heard it can make you blind, but I have not read any confirmed reports about it causing restless legs syndrome. Masturbation from all accounts should not have anything to do with your leg, however it may cause some nasty tennis-elbow. Also, I don't believe you when you say "I've stopped now" - that is just a bold lie.
I enjoy stimulating my wife manually. She also enjoys the act and helps me to ejaculate. Is this safe?
Buddy, please clarify the difference between manually and automatically? If its what I think it is, then yes, it is safe, but your getting the raw deal. She has all the fun, but you do all the work, and the little guy gets no action. Does your wife also stimulate you manually? Doing this is like sitting inside of a Ferrari but not putting the key in the ignition. How do you know what it sounds and feels like unless you start her up?
I'm having an affair with my neighbour. She wants to have sex with me. I'm 22 and she is 27. Is this okay?
First of all, if you haven't hit that, then your not having an affair. Your just fooling around and avoiding getting caught. The good news is that she's older than you, and she wants to have sex with you. As a result not only is this okay, its also encouraged - you may learn a thing or two. Just remember, don't be a fool and wrap your tool. You don't want to know why the neighbours children have your eyes playa.
Recently I had sex with my uncle is my virginity in tact?
What the fuck!? What the fuck are you thinking? NO your virginity is not in tact, and neither is your sanity you crazy bitch. Avoid all family reunions for the rest of your life, and please do NOT play with your cousins any more.
In conclusion, sex is quite a taboo subject in a country like India. However, because of the problems with Aids, and the idiots who think they can't catch it, its nice to see that there are forums for people to learn a thing or two about doing the hanky-panky. But clearly, sometimes you don't need to know everything.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
To help out hopeful single guys everywhere, I thought I'd give some reasons as to why doing this is NOT a good idea:
1. The girl will assume you are hideous, and do not want to show your face
2. The girl already has the upper hand, because you don't have the balls to face her yourself (confidence is 95% of the battle)
3. The girl will most likely start talking to your friend that you sent instead of you, and then you'll be giving the toast as the best man, but you'll be disgruntled on the inside. As a result, you may drive yourself mad, and become addicted hookers.
4. Your friend can decide to play a joke on you, and talk to the ugliest girl in the club, and use the very same line. In which case, you will now have a hideous creature attached to your arm all night, who will not let you go, and you will not have a chance with anyone else. Odds are, your friend will probably move in on the hot girl afterwards.
To all you single guys out there, I have one bit of advice...Man Up! If you want to talk to a girl you gotta do it yourself. Nobody else can do it for you. Its not always easy, but the juice is definately worth the squeeze. Worst case scenario, she'll say she's not interested or that she has a boyfriend. In which case you can do what all guys do when they hear this. They act like they really give a shit about the boyfriend. So in the famous words of my cousin "Do what you gotta do".