Sometimes I think I almost “came” as a Caucasian. Not that I am unhappy with my colour but some of the stuff that “my people” seem to enjoy gives me nothing but palpitations. Going by the classifications taught by Lionel (one of my coaches) – we are definitely “party asses.” Take weddings for example, just the thought of being teh subject of attention of 500 people, more or less puts me off the whole thing (chicken u!) I had rather go with fifty people or thereabouts – that should fulfill the legal bit about witnesses and also cover the necessary family and friends that would be present whether invited or not.

I think worse than that is the big burial bash that’s so common around these parts. It’s not about the gone but not forgotten – but an excuse to do what we do best – get together and be party asses. Common! I was still teething when Elvis left the building:-) Of course being man and of like-flesh, afflicted with ego in more or less the same proportion as other specimens of the specie, I am given to flights of fancy where I see myself giving an award-wining performance, but it never lasts – the palpitations – oh! How relentless they are – never letting up even for a minute.

It’s so easy to make it hell. Take the 2 opposite ends of the spectrum – that’s the “I am a hunk” spectrum. As I was saying, the lower end of the spectrum seems to be overly crowded with the guys spending their time wishing they were on the opposite end – that’s when they are not wishing they could hook up with the beaut just a couple of seats away. Now, its so easy to fantasize about that beaut that it’s a natural progression to start fantasizing about every beauty that the guy comes across. The hunks have got their own issues. It’s not easy to maintain the I-am-35-in-my-prime-a-stud-able-to-party-all-night-past-the-break-of-dawn persona. The body gets tired at some point. While the oogly ones are fantasizing, these guys are being literarily assaulted by the opposite sex – especially in the developed countries where its not exactly a taboo for a lady to take the initiative. Every one has his/her cross to bear.