Monday, May 4, 2009

The New Bodyguard

I want a ninja. I saw it once in a commercial and I saw a bunch at work the other day. I think it’s reasonable and quite possibly doable. I can go to Japan and recruit or I can probably just order one, much like a mail-order bride. And if I can’t, then maybe I’ll start a mail-order ninja service.

If I were a celebrity I would get on top of this shit before it becomes a trend cause you just know it’s gonna be the biggest thing. I foresee the dissipation of the 8ft tall, 400lb black men and the ushering in of 4ft 10 in, 90lb Asians. It only makes sense. Cause one day there will be no guns (really, it’s true, I read it somewhere) and we will have to go back to the way things were, the use of ancient weaponry: the human body. And I don’t think we want to be defended by some sumo wrestler-looking guy who really can’t throw down, instead, we want that Top Ramen flavor, the kind that dip, jump, dive, and fly.

Yes, please. My very own ninja, always paranoid, always on the look out, acting all stealth at all times of the day, the kind who will always be there for me but can’t really communicate with me thus forgoing any sort of arguments that may occur.

A bodyguard is conceivably the next accessory for the everyday human, not exclusive to celebrities alone. (Remember when cell phones were only for rich? Well, this blue-collar bitch is all up on that, BlackBerry style). So we all have stalkers (or creepy co-workers) or are in danger of being shot at by a rivaling gang… The possibilities are endless and are all within the realms of likelihood and it’s best to be prepared, well prepared.

Not many of us (save for myself) have that keen sixth sense and cannot be expected to constantly be aware of our surroundings. Thus, I introduce the practical, everyday use of the ninja. Much like a cell phone it will soon become part of your person, you will be attached and you could never imagine ever having lived without one. It is necessary and really isn’t too much to ask.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Pearls Before Swine

I had to Wikipedia this crap. It's everywhere. It's airborne. It will kill me (if I’m lucky). I'm really trying to get a handle on this thing, you know, to be well informed. So what they're saying is that we can catch a virus from a pig? I'm sorry, but what the hell is going on here? I thought illnesses and diseases in animals can't spread to humans but apparently I'm wrong. (I guess this is where the whole monkeys and AIDS thing comes in... Too much? Yes, I’m an insensitive asshole but I still love Africa.)

Anyway, they're calling Swine Flu an endemic. Well, I'm calling it it's-about-time epidemic. Every now and then we’ll have some kind of virus that just seems to peter out cause someone comes along and cures it. What happened to the good ole days of the Black Death or the Bubonic Plague (yes, they are one in the same but I’m trying to make a point here). There was no cure back then, the medieval world just let nature take its course and let the iron bucket get kicked millions of times over.

Fine, fine, I don’t really want half the world to die… I’m into the cure, I walk for cancer (lie), I march for babies (lie) and I am really glad we cured Magic Johnson of HIV (that was a close call huh, Cookie?) So, I am going to give you all the information you need to assess the symptoms and let's try to blast this mother.

According to Wikipedia, you got swine flu if you have:

-sore throat
-muscle pains
-severe headaches
-general discomfort
-lack of appetite
-runny nose

Very specific. Sounds like your everyday-flu-cold-damning bullshit that we are all catching every freaking month it seems. In any case, if you live in France, Hong Kong, New Zealand, Spain, Canada, Mexico, Arizona, California, Indiana, Kansas, Massachusetts, Michigan, Nevada, New York, Ohio and Texas (or anywhere else on Earth) you're probably going to catch it. And since you're going to ignore it and pretend like it's nothing then you're most likely going to die. We're fucked. I miss the days when it was just the Avian Flu.

Thursday, April 30, 2009

Slumdog's Aftermath… Thanks Danny Boyle.

I walk down the street and I get an extra turn. Are they looking at me because I'm hot or are they looking at me because I'm Indian?

"Hey did you see that Slumdog Millionaire?" a stranger asks.
"That Indian movie won all the Oscars!" they tell me.
No it didn't and I don't care... Why does everyone think I would care so much about this movie? Oh. Yes. I'm Indian. (Automatic guilt by association)

I was in India when the film was released. And guess what? No one in India gave a shit. But here in United States of America the movie was so over-hyped. People kept telling me how amazing it was and how it was going to win all the awards this season. Like I care. Yes, I saw it, so what? And yes, the little Indian kids were cute as fuck but it wasn't as life changing as everyone said it would be. Except maybe it was life changing because of how it's... changed my life? I am now super cool because I'm Indian. It's true. Let's face it. If you're Indian then you're automatically associated with Slumdog Millionaire which then equates to major coolness. I'm super popular now thanks to one Indian lover, director Boyle.

"Is it true? Did you see the slums?" one inquires.
"Yes. Yes it's all true. The slums, Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?, the dancing at the train station. All everyday occurrences in India." I say flatly.

After all the (welcomed) racist hounding how can I use all of this to my advantage? I start making up crap.

"Hey you look like that girl Freida Pinto!"
No I don't. Or wait a minute... Yes, yes I do, she's actually my cousin. Weird, right? Small world.

Boys. Lots of them. I'm just snapping them right up, from the far east (literally) to this wonderful western world (also literally), I am so hot right now. Not only is being Indian in general in vogue but guys seem to have gotten smitten for Latika and anything that remotely resembles the exotic spice is good enough for them. I try to go out as much as possible (think: every night) around dinnertime because that's when food is at its best. I get food for free and what happens afterward? Well... Let's just say the fact that though I'm in my late twenties (Turn On #1), sharing a bedroom with my sister (Turn On #2) and niece (Turn On #3) and under the same small roof as my parents (Turn On #4) ... I'm pretty, freaking cool. Pure bred, hot-blooded Indian, let’s face it, I’m culturally relevant and that makes me awesome. Guys, why don’t you come on by, my doctor-lawyer mother will whip up a chair while you negotiate the dowry with my engineer-yoga instructor father.

I have no choice but to just ride the beautiful curry-colored wave of the Indian trend. I owe it to the motherland.

Bollywood is so in right now. Thanks Danny Boyle!

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

I Know Who Killed Me

Best movie ever.

Lindsay Lohan was truly on top of her game here. She is so method it's fascinating... I mean, I heard that she went to real-life strip bars just to learn how to pole dance and everything! I wonder if she even visited the hospital to pay visits to the amputees? Probably.

The story was so deep. There were so many nuances and intricacies, one can only hope to catch half of them... if they're lucky! I mean, who knew that the movie poster revealed all there was to the story... Two Lindsay Lohans and a whole lot of the color blue. Perfect 10.

The suspense, the music, the ironies, the acting, the directing, the cinematography, the editing... I could only hope to achieve such prime filmmaking...

Wednesday, July 16, 2008


I love Pixar. The end.

Actually, there's more... I am lead to believe that this is Pixar's only and yet most political movie to date. Let's just look at one key jab: fat people. How interesting that the story, 800 years after Earth's destruction... Which probably has to do with global warming (please send in Al Gore, thank you.)... Has humans living on some different planet in outer space, where they've become complacent and lazy. In turn, their laziness has lead to obesity to the point where they cannot even move and furthermore, they refuse to get up from their floating chairs. These fat blobs are being taken care of, every whim and need is fulfilled. As a result, their bones have shrunk and fat has taken place.

What exactly is Pixar saying? Let's look deeper...

Monday, July 30, 2007

Mo'Nique's Charm School for Ho's

There are no words to express the intensity of such a show. I was taken aback by the relentless efforts of VH1 trying to drag out anything Flavor Flav related... Creating show, after reality show, after game show about the small, gold-toothed, over-sized clock wearing rapper/drummer.

Admittedly, I must say that the only episode I managed to catch was the Season Finale. Thank God too because if I had started any earlier I think I would've had an aneurysm. I know what you must think, that I have a choice whether or not I watch these shows... But honestly once I get a taste of any new reality show, I become addicted and I am forced to watch week after week as America's dumbest get to shine on the tube. It's sick, I know.

This season finale was amazing. It was so classy, beautiful and truly charming. Right. You didn't believe me did you? After all, we are dealing with women who wanted to hook up with Flavor Flav and it's not like the VH1 recruiters went to Bloomingdales or Neiman Marcus to look for these girls... They most likely waited outside of strip club back doors and dive bars at 3 a.m.

The best was when Mo'Nique threw a party where the "girls" (I put quotes because I want to refer to them as another species but don't want to be totally rude) had to find the "renaissance man" which basically meant a guy who wasn't a complete waste of space. And, surprise surprise, oddly enough, not one of the girls managed to find him! Everyone was busy bumpin' and grindin', pretending to do the Monica Lewinsky on an ice sculpture, getting trashed, throwin' down, you know- the usual. It was great. And sadly, "Pumkin" was sent home for being a whore- this time I'm serious. It was hilarious.

So then, there were the four girls who made it through the wild party, and then they had to "study" and pass a Q & A. After two people were let go, those two had to "write an essay" of why they should win. This was so great. We had Smiley and Saaphyri, two top notch girls, duking it out for the big ole prize pot. During their speeches, Mo'Nique was crying, Buckeey was bawling- what great television.

What I find very odd is that Saaphyri is under some weird impression that by winning the prize ($50,000) she will be able to buy a house. And what is even stranger is that the remaining contestants were rooting for her to win so she can get a house. Um, don't these people know that she won't find a house for $50,000- wait- make that $25,000 after taxes? So wonderful. Such pure hearts and empty brains. It was quite a lovely ending... Saaphyri got her weave replaced with a more classier monotone weave, she got a dress that fit around her boobs without making her look totally slutty, and she got the money. She's gonna buy a house! Yay! (Can't wait for the update where we will learn that she blew all her money on more bad weave jobs)

Saturday, July 21, 2007

Hey Paula! Are you okay?

Oh no. I just realized my blog is turning into a Reality Show Rant Blog. Crap. What has my life come to? I. Am. A. Disappointment. Oh well...

Hey Paula! is seriously the best thing in reality TV right now. (Man alive, I'm going there...) Honestly, this is a must-watch-at-least-once reality show. I know I will only have more to say about this topic in the weeks to come but here's what I've got for now:

Last year I used to work with a woman at a job, where we had no lives and lived vicariously through trashy magazines- this is a terrible lifestyle, I do no recommend it to anyone! And, well, American Idol, was the workplace's centerpiece and all we did was talk about Paula Abdul... We even dubbed her "Crazy Aunt Paula" because she was always nice to everyone but "seemed" drunk at all times- kind of like that embarrassing aunt we all have that means well but we don't want to introduce her to anyone we know lest she say something. Already you may say, "This girl is pathetic." And I can only agree with you... But bear with me.

Let me begin with a quote from Paula Abdul herself: "I am sick and tired of people not treating me like the gift that I am."

Um. Right. Even if I were in a pretty box with a shiny ribbon wrapped up all around it I don't think I'd ever refer to myself as a "gift"; but Paula did and oh boy is she right! What a true gift to be able to really get in there and experience Paula Abdul's more than pointless but hectic life...

Now, what is the point of this show? I think it's so we can all go: "*Sigh* That Paula Abdul, oh man does she work her butt off." Is it to set the record straight that she is not a druggie or an alkie? Who knows... Honestly it perpetuates the idea that Paula is a little more than "off". And okay, maybe she doesn't get drunk and maybe she doesn't take, what she refers to as "recreational drugs" but then something is seriously wrong with her. I think it's a great thing when people think drugs and alcohol abuse are the reasons behind the behavior of the "out of control" celebrity because there is an excuse, a reason, a way for this type of behavior. So what Paula is essentially saying is that "No I don't get drunk! No I don't use illegal drugs! I am this way naturally." Personally, I'd blame the drugs and alcohol if it were me, that way people don't think I am a lunatic.

I guess I can see what Paula is saying... Maybe it is unfair what the tabloids say... After all how are we supposed to know she was in an airplane crash? She's the one who never talked about it. She's the one who takes the painkillers and never opened up about it. Of course the public is going to think what they do- she's off her freakin' rocker! This woman cries if her hairstylist can't catch a flight to NY to meet her on Letterman, or if QVC doesn't give her, for gratis, some jewelry for her Idol contestants.

Maybe it's the lack of sleep though. Apparently, Paula doesn't sleep, ever. She claims she can't sleep for more than three hours a night, that is if she gets a chance to catch some shut eye- then she's up for 48 hours at a time. Sounds healthy to me.