Cat fight..

I am sure we all enjoy a good cat fight, be it a verbal exchange or a physical knock down.

Have you ever wondered why we all love it so much?  I just did, and I can't think why but all I know is that I love it, absolutely LOVE IT!

Growing up, watching movies, I'd get excited where women were fighting, either bitching at each other, a few good words exchanged, a few degrading words and a few insults dished or a major fight with a fist and a black eye.  I am sure others enjoy it as much as I do, but I never understood the reason why.

I know most girls enjoy a good cat fight as well, but what makes it interesting, have you ever thought of it?  If you have, and if you know why, let me know.  Leave a comment.

So what do you do when you see.. ?

So what do you do when you see an ad posted on Craigslist and you read it and you find out that this is someone you know who has a boyfriend and is looking for somebody else in the missed connections site?  Do you tell that friend what you say and confront them?  Do you keep quiet?  Do you tell their boyfriend?  Do you look other way?

Why me?  Why did I have to be involved in this?  Just because I troll the internet so much, or because I am so smart that I can put two and two together and figure out that this is definitely four.

Friends

"My friends are my estate."
- Emily Dickinson

Well fuck, I am poor! I have no friends=no estate=poor.

What does one really need friends for? We come to this earth alone, and when we leave, we leave alone (unless ofcourse you're a victim of mass murder, a plane crash, a terrorist attack, or some other scenario like that). So if we come alone and we go alone, do we need any companionship in between our journey from life to death?

I think we do, I think we need companionship, I think we need to feel the love, the need to be wanted, the feeling to belong (somewhere or to someone). Human nature by default is very needy, very possessive, very belonging. We are never satisfied, we always group ourselves in different categories. Male, female, young, old, gay, straight, minor, adult, white, black, asian, hispanic, american, european, tall, short, fat, skinny, rich, poor, so on and so forth. We always want to belong somewhere, we always strive to belong to the next best category, the ultimate competition, the desire to survive.

I somehow never had this feeling or this want to have a friend. This desire to belong. I am not a loner, no way, I have people but I just never had anybody so close to me, to be called my best friend. I wonder, why? Growing up, I never had a friend that I always hungout with, did things with, I always went to places along, always ate my lunches alone, always walked to school and back alone, always did things my own way as I pleased, always alone. I never felt the need to have someone with me to do things. I even went to the movies alone and still do.

Friends come and friends go, at one point I had an unusually large amount of friends that I always went out with. We would go to clubs and parties and sorts in large masses. They were friends I did things with but none came home with me, most of them did not even know where I lived. That is how my friends are. They are mostly acquaintances, some of them for one day some of them for one year, some of them for one decade, but sooner or later they all go away. Go away in a sense, they move to a different place, we grow apart, they get married, settle down with their families, find other friends or a boyfriend/girlfriend and they start doing their own things. And I hate that, if I make a friend, I want that person to stick around with me forever and ever. I want that person to be with me, I get very possessive and I think that is the reason I do not let them come very near to me because I know it will be very tough to say goodbye for me.

My mother just said ...

...you need change in your life. If you have the same routine, same schedule that you do everyday nothing good happens. Sometimes you have to mix things up, change your life, change your schedule and your routine to see things from a different perspective. I think she is right.

A fellow blogger, crashedsite, commented somewhat the same on my last spot. I think she and my mother both might be on the right track. I have decided, I am going to change things in my life. No more self-loathing, self-pity, and misery. Things are going to change, life is going to be better. I feel opitimistic already.

I wonder how mothers always know what to say and when to say under any given situation. I sometimes think my mother is a mind reader. I swear upon it. My mother knows when I need something, money or other materials, if I am down and depressed, she somehow knows it even when I do not tell her and she says something to cheer me up for that particular situation. If am not feeling well, she knows what to cook for me even when I don't tell her that I don't feel well. When I feel like eating out, she herself tells me, I am not cooking today, why don't you go out and get your food, whatever you desire. How does she do it? That is a mystery.

Back to the change topic, yes I will have to change my life. I feel good, and I feel like after 3 months since graduation I might get a job soon. I got two phone calls for interviews today on the same day. All this happened after I changed my current work schedule at the retail shop where I work. My mother said it today, you have to change stuff in your life, move things around to have things happen to you, good or bad.

I want to get out of this godforsaken place. That is my next move. Will let you know what happens, how things work out.

Here's a suggestion...

"Here's a suggestion... GROW SOME BALLS... stop trying to please everyone else and look after #1. Think positive about yourself and good things will start happening."

This is what a chat friend of mine told me when I told her that I have a sleeping problem, and that I cannot sleep well because when I try to sleep I think of things about me and it scares me. She nailed me right to the point saying, is it about my dead end job and no love life.

I wonder how shew knew. The suggestion, she gave me is up above, as you read it. Though I wonder how can one just change things. I have tried. It doesn't work. I know I will never get the love in my life that I really want. How do I tell and cause pain and hurt the ones who love me the most. How do I tell my mother that I am gay.

In gay world, you have to realize, once you are past 21, you are considered middle aged, and at my age, I am considered OLD. With my age, and the looks that I possess, even if I think positive, only bad things happen to me. I wonder how most good looking people are so rich, so well set, have great jobs, perfect families with their pristine wives and flawless kids and spotless cars and best house in the most posh area possible, and careers that cannot be stopped from going even up higher than where they currently are?

How is it that a well educated person like me with 2 degrees, a person who is well traveled, cannot find a decent job, and has to still work in retail making merely $8.20 an hour and live with his mother? Why must my life be like this. I am not complaining, I am just wondering. Don't get me wrong. Why can't I have been like the guy who lives next door, or in the next apt, or across the streets, or a mile away, or ten miles away. They all have better life than me, and I am not exaggerating. They most definitely have a better life than me. They have friends, boyfriends, girlfirends, lovers, kids, baby drama, money, house, cars, spontaneity, extravagant lifestyles, and above all perfect body and best looks?

Why, at this age, must I be like this and SINGLE?

I am jealous. I feel hatred. I don't wish it upon them but I feel it. I don't know what to do.

P.S. I'm Finding North (in it)!

After a long break, I was recently reading one of the old bloggers (whose blogs I used to read regularly) blog and I came across one of her recent blogs about the movie P.S. I Love You starring Hilary Swank and Gerard Butler (who happens to be very hot). I totally agree with all her comments, she has a point, the movie was wonderful. Though I am a sucker for romantic comedies, and I cry to most of the mushy feeling movies, this movie actually made me cry for a reason. It touched my heart like no other movie, the performances were wonderful by all the cast, it had everything, a little bit of comedy, a lot of drama, a hint of suspense and a lot of love and not to forget the fine men and lovely Irish scenes. Though everything mentioned by the blogger crashedsite is correct, I think I have to say the truth so everybody (well not everybody but atleast some) would know where the storyline came from, where it was adopted from, and what was the original story. I have been meaning to tell it to everybody, but just didn't have the courage to say it to everybody since I am not really out to people and then they would ask me a lot of questions about how I found the movie and what was I doing watching it and blah blah.

So well, here comes the truth. The movie that was originally made was Finding North. You can find details on the link posted above. The movie was released in 1998, and brought on DVD/Video by WolfeVideo. When I first saw that movie, a couple years ago, I wept and wept and wept like a crazy little boy who had just lost his Tonka Toy Truck. The movie was so wonderfully made, it had everything in it, a lot of suspense, a lot of drama, a lot of love, and above all, the ending was a bit more thrilling than P.S. I Love You. It was such a wonderful movie and I am not sure why it hasn't been given the credit it deserves. I hope some of you will see it, though it is a gay theme movie rather than a straight movie, but have an open mind, and try to watch it if you can find it. It is a wonderful movie and everybody should watch it once. You will see where the inspiration for P.S. I Love You was acquired and how the story was adapted for a mainline cinema.

All I wish to do is give the makers enough credit for their wonderful creation. I am in no way badmouthing P.S. I Love You.

In the immigration office ..

In the immigration office:

Q.: "Name?"
A.: "Abdul Dalah Sarafi."

Q.: "Sex?"
A.: "Four times a week."

Q.: "No, no, no... male or female?"
A.: "Male, female... sometimes camel..."


ROFLMFAO LOL

The guy at the grill in cafeteria

Most of you do not know where I work, that is nothing you should know, all you need to know about is this guy in the cafeteria at the grill. Everyday I go to the cafeteria during lunch to eat something. I have a tummy that is a bit out of proportion, I know that, but a man has got to eat. As soon as I enter the cafeteria, I feel so uneasy because I know the guy at the cafeteria is going to make me feel like shit again. As you enter the cafeteria, on your right hand side corner there is a "wrap-place", in the middle oblong shaped cafeteria is a salad bar and miscellaneous products island in the same shape as the cafeteria. On your left, covering the whole middle section is an entree place, a taco place, and something else, that is always closed. On the very end of the cafeteria on the left corner is the grill.

That is one place I like to eat, the wrap place is nasty tasting, literally tastes like some assjuice, mixed with some snots, some stinked up old cheese, the fat bastard from previous post, and a mixture of few other things. The entree place is very heavy for me to eat during lunch, and the taco place, eh, whats to eat in beans everyday, I need variety. So that leaves the grill. Grill has a lot of good choices and they make custom things as well, whatever you say and the sides are usually pretty good. The sides have regular fries, curly fries, tater-tots, onion rings, fried mushrooms, broccoli, and other things that could be counted as sides.

The standard menu is very eye appealing with tasty-sounding food, cooked in 0 transfat oil (a big craze these days). They also cook your stuff in PAM, the spray or whatever, a substitute for oil I believe (though I never use it). I like my food the real way, with real things, no substitutes. Well anyways, everyday when it is my turn to order food, I feel like I am like one of those Chinese who can't say "fried rice." There are two guys at the grill, one who cooks, at the grill, and the other who takes orders, gets dishes ready, gets ingredients, and basically keep it all flowing. Well the guy who takes the order, everyday askes me, "And for you sir?" Each time he asks that, I say whatever I want for the day. I keep it ready in my mind what I have to say, I rehearse it in my mind, I practice it, so I won't look like the biggest loser who cannot speak English, one of those immigrants, as they say. I swear I have good English speaking capabilities, I do have a very very very little accent, almost non-existential, seriously no one can tell by listening to 2 or 3 words; grilled cheese with tomatoes, turkey burger, grilled chicken sandwish, etc.

Though everyday I go there, with other people in line, front of me, behind me, and the guy asks me that horrible question, and I know he is going to make me feel so miniscule for not being American, he is going to make me realize that I am an immigrant, he will not understand anything I say, no matter what. I think he gets a kick out of it, at least somewhere he can beat me, maybe he is jealous of me, while he gets the dishes ready, I work in an office space with 10000000000000 cubicles organized in rows and columns. I know he is jealous, he works in the heat of the grill while I sit in an office with air conditioning and desk full of important paper documents, telephone, laptop, and so on and so forth. That is not the point, the point is, he makes me feel like shit. Literally, SHIT!

This is how my conversation goes, each day I stand in that like, the line of humiliation and hot-of-the-grill insults.
Him: And for you sir?
Me: Grilled Cheese with tomato on top of it please!
Him: Say again.
Me: Grilled Cheese please! (a bit louder this time)
Him: Grilled Chicken?
Me: No, Grilled Cheese. God damnit (in my mind).
Him: Grilled what? I cannot hear you sir, or, I don't understand.
Me: Motherfucker (in my mind). Grilled Cheese.
Him: Oh, grilled cheese.
Me: Yes.

No no, wait, fun is not over yet, he hasn't made me feel like shit.

Him: On wheat or white?
Me: White bread please.
Him: Wheat?
Me: WHITE (getting angry and louder) you fucking nigger (in my mind).
Him: White?
Me: Yes white, with tomato on top of it.
Him: With what?
Me: TOMATO (and people are looking at me as if I am a retard, a stupid foreigner who gives grief to the tall, husky, black guy who gets the dishes ready and I am holding up the line).

Then I finally walk away from the line with my head down, people still staring at me, to stand in the far corner until they make my food 10 minutes after I placed my order and 11 people behind me got thier food.

That guy at the cafeteria, I will get you someday, my darkie, someday I will.

Elevator's stench

Like I had mentioned earlier, because of lack of sleep, today was going to be a day from hell and it did. As soon as I get to work, I walk inside the building and waiting in the lobby on the 2nd floor to catch the elevator that goes to my floor, a few people walked behind me and started to wait along with me. Now before I say anything more and you all jump to a conclusion, let me tell you, I have nothing against fat people but I do have something against people who are fat and stink like skunk. Back to my story, well amongst the people waiting in the lobby with me, there was this fat man, who stood at the very end of the lobby, just by the entrance. There were about 5 of us waiting so one elevator finally made its way down, stopping at each floor, spitting all the people out, to work as slaves until they finish their 8 hours of hard work and then bring them all back, down. Well since I was the first one to get there in the lobby and to wait, I got in the elevator first and one by one we all got in, with the fat guy entering last. As he got near, a sudden stench filled in the air and made it hard to breath. GROSS! I wondered for a few seconds who farted. As the elevator doors closed and the elevator started to shoot up, we all pressed our destination floor number to make sure we get off on the right floor. I was standing at the very corner on the left hand side by the buttons, another person opposite to me, another one on the end corner and another person on the opposite end and one person in the middle back and the fat guy stood right in the center. As he came near me to press his floor I figured out where that gross stench is coming from. OMG I cannot breath, terrorist, stop stop, let me out, please god help me, save me save me, may-day may-day, OMG OMFG is what went on my mind. Keep in mind, my floor is the 30th floor and the fat guy was going to the 36th floor which is the exec floor but he looked like a douche. He had big moustache which was not trimmed properly, he had hair popping out of his nose and ears and he was fatter than fat bastard, literally. During my observation from 2nd floor to the 30th floor, I noticed that his tummy was so big, the XXXXXXL (assumption) t-shirt he wore did not keep his tummy tucked in his pants, it was overflowing from the t-shirt. His buttons were undone and hair stuck out of his chest, he was wearing jeans 10 sizes too small and a belt that felt like a whole cow had to die to make one belt for the smelly fat bastard.

The elevator made a couple stops and people got off, in the end it was just me and the fat bastard. I was hoping when is my 30th floor coming so I can get out and breath fresh air. I was suffocating, the fat bastard, even without touching me, was suffocating me. Gulp! Gulp! Gulp! Please god, is it 30th floor yet, oh no, someone had to press the button to go up, "approaching 26th floor, service stop", motherfucker are you kidding me, fuck me, kill me, why me, and the fat bastard. Well in comes this chatty kathie and her friend silent suzie, chatty kathie had a meeting on the 38th floor and silent suzie was her companian in that meeting in seemed. She kept going on and on and on about the meeting and how she did this and did that for her presentation. How she stayed late, and worked early, to make it all nice and neat. BITCH #$###%#*$ can't you shut the fuck up, I am dying here, and can't you smell the shit from fat bastard? I was about to press the emergency stop button when my floor finally came, elevator stopped, "30th floor, going up" the doors opened, I jumped out, cussing the shit out of the chatty kathie, and the fat bastard and I said godspeed to silent suzie.

I took a deep breath, fresh air, yeah, I am going to survive, only to slave 8 precious hours of my life at this fucked up place.

My First Blog Ever On Here

This has got to be something that I usually do at late nights when I am bored. Bored of everything online from emails, to chat sites, to instant messengers, to porn sites, to checking out personals on Craigslist and whatever else people can do this late at night. That is why I am here, I had nothing better to do, and nothing smart to say but to blog the night away. It is 3:55AM currently my local time here, and I have to be at work at 7:30AM, that means I am not getting any sleep tonight and it will be a day from hell at work.

Let me tell you something about my work, it has got to be the most boring work I've ever done in my life. Working with old people is no fun. People who are 80 years old, people who have been on their job for 120 years out of those 80 years, and people who know nothing outside of their little department on that floor - they are not fun. They stick to the rules, they do not cuss, they do not wear jeans or any fancy outfits with any accessories and the most interesting thing they talk about in their lives are their kids and grandkids and their yards and the flowers in their yards and the trees that grow and the animals that come in their yars. UGGGGGGGGG!

Moving on to lighter note, this one guy I work with, is hot! He is married and yes, I know that it is a sin to think about married men like that, but he makes me weak. He comes up to my desk every few minutes just to tell me how much he hates this job and yet he performs the best of us all each time. He loves his job secretly and I love him coming to my desk just so he can stretch and show me his abs, the cute abs, the smooth body, makes me feel weak. I pretend to not watch it but deep down that is what I dream of. And to make things worst, he talks about his wife and he talks about his in-laws all through lunch and every visit he pays on my desk. But he is hot. I get to go to lunch with him everyday and he lets me decide where we are going for lunch that day. :-) I like that little arrangement.

On a different topic, I was sitting out on the porch at my aunt's place for dinner tonight and mosquitoes had a ball with me. I bet there were some who got drunk on my blood while others just had a great time slowly sucking the blood and getting high. They enjoyed me more than I enjoyed the yummiliscious North-Indian dish for the night prepared by my aunt. Damn them mosquitoes, and if I get sick, malaria or west-nile virus, I am going to be angry at them.

With that being said, I think I shall end it here today and make another blog entry sometime later, whenever I feel like it. Read on, enjoy, and leave comments. I would love to hear what you think about me and my blogs, whatever you can make out of me from my blogs.