Bobbing for Brahmins

I'm going to an Indian wedding this weekend. My co-worker, Miranda, is an Indian, and kindly gave me some Indian-style pick-up lines to use. See them below, with my modifications.

Yes, I am from Boston. Have you heard of the Boston Brahmins? My family’s like that. We’re a little like the Kennedys, without the alcoholism.

Every night I pray to Vishnu that Kashmir will one day belong to India again.

So, does that brown skin go all the way up?

This paneer is really good, but I prefer using whole milk when I make my own. So, do you want to fuck?

Ramalamadingdong. . .is that Indian for something?

Did I not introduce myself? I’m Dr. Parcells.

Terror Time!

Are we safe from animal lovers? No. Just look at the way they're always keeping pit bulls alive, defending the rights of mountain lions, and not letting me eat the Filet-O-Fish sandwiches I need to survive.
Are animal lovers terrorists? No. They are not to be feared. I am not afraid of their weak vegan arms, their pleather shitkicking boots, or their "let's save the shit out of every living thing" attitude.
So, yes, Caroline Paul (ha ha, two differently gendered first names) is correct in defending her(?) arsonist brother from charges of terrorism. However, this is not so much news, or an opinion I need to hear. Our government has consistently overreacted to everything (except of course, that initial terrorist threat and the guy behind it) since sometime in the fall of 2001. Remember freedom fries? Remember "if you're not with us, you're with the terrorists"? OH! Remember WMDs and the many linkages between Al Qaeda and Saddam. I say it's time to get over this whole, "the Bush Administration said this, which is kind fo an exaggeration," and deal with the real problems, like what TV are we going to watch this summer, which presidential candidate does the second-best job of talking to black people, and how am I going to get in her pants?

Inappropriate attire

I was feeling pretty great today. I’m single these days, my hair looked nice, and I felt like I had picked out a nice little outfit for myself. So, since it was a fairly pleasant day, I found myself strolling around town, not really rushing anywhere, just looking at people enjoying their days, enjoying the sunshine, you know, doing whatever content people are supposed to do.
Because of this confidence I was feeling, I found myself looking at more women than I usually do. It’s springtime, and that always brings out the radiance in people’s skin. Plus, you get to see more skirts ad exposed arms, and sunglasses can really fool you into thinking a girl might have a pretty face. So, I’m walking around, and I’ not hitting on girls or anything, just glancing and occasionally making eye contact and thinking about how hot they must think I am. I see this one pretty girl. I think I’ve seen her around, so I give her an extra smile, and she looks at me and smile back, and then looks down.
I read somewhere on the internet that when a women who you’ve made eye contact with looks down directly after, it’s a positive sign, because it signals submission, unlike when they look to the side, which basically means they are just trying to find something better to be staring at. I’ve never known whether to believe this, but when she looked back up and smiled I was feeling pretty good about myself. I looked down to figure out my next step. After smiling and eye contact, the next step involves speaking, which is much more of a commitment. I’m looking down, formulating a simple introduction, and I notice I’m wearing two different shoes. This is not like, too similar shoes. My right foot is looking smart in a nice brown dress shoe, while lefty is ready for a jog in its gleaming white sneaker.

Motherfucking unacceptable.

Tiny chanters

Today, in many (liberal) American towns, there was some sort of global warming action going on under the name, "Step it up." Besides the fact that this sounds more like a workout program than a protest, and besides the fact that I was trying to relax in the park and people kept bothering me to sign things, join groups, or accept their paraphernalia, the biggest annoyance was the little protesting children. I think that, like voting, there should be an age limit under which children are deemed as not responsible for thinking on their own, and thus not capable of protesting. I don't know what this age should be, but I was imagining how disgusted people might be if they saw the same nine year olds at an anti-immigration, or god forbid, a KKK rally.

When I was in college, I was walking down the street with a pretty girl I had a crush on, and whose name I now forget (let's call her Josephine), we saw some fundamentalists sending their children to hand out literature on how Josephine and I were going to burn in hell. Josephine turned to me and said, "It turns my stomach to see people turning their children into little proselytizers." I actually wouldn't have noticed if I wasn't so attracted to this girl that I listened to everything she said (I know, a big deal!!) , but I have felt the same way ever since.