Strip

(Rated R. Includes profanity, and comments that some women may find disrespectful. Absolutely classless entry, but I HAD to write this.)

It feels like a military school at home on Wednesday evenings, when roommate E's favorite trifecta of TV shows play. Starts with Tyra Banks' 'Model' show, some program, ending with 'Project Runaway.' She orders complete silence -- no clanking pans, talking on phone or eating toast. Sitting on the table after language class, I watch those disastrous shows -- I have no choice.

That is where I spotted Anchal, the Indian-American supermodel. She's cute, not necessarily super hot -- she doesn't induce my animal instinct, the way Sheetal Sheth does. Can Anchal be really sexy? Last week's Model episode had the answer, when wannabe models were shown how to be "sexy," not "slutty."

I was in the kitchen when I heard something like "I will teach you how to be sexy, not slutty," and my eyes popped open. I instinctively shouted, "STRIP, STRIP, WOOHOO!!" I mean, come on, I told you I was an SOB.

Hungry for more, I ran for the TV. E gave me a nasty glance -- she's all about women's rights and hates disrespect to women. I wasn't budged though, E's intense, dirty look can be pretty sexy, so hey, why not induce and enjoy that too.

Alas, the segment was nothing more than striptease fluff. E didn't want to hear, but I shouted, cheered and jeered with the segment asking them to do certain 'sexy' moves and yes, they reciprocated. Butt slaps, chest forward, that dirty, seductive look and other small knick knacks that add up. It was enjoyable, no doubt.

If the show's definition of sexy is being a stripper, how about two hot women dandling their pucking lips with each other as they strip for starters? Live performances may be found at Zeitgeist in SF on a warm Saturday night.

E looked at me in full horror. I was crashing her party, but she was impressed at how the wannabe models were responding to my will. We get lightly flirtatious at times, but she had never seen me like this.

She shouted: "I didn't expect an Indian to be like this!"

"Oh come on! An Indian isn't allowed to watch a striptease?" I cried.

She smiled, for once on a Wednesday evening. Thank goodness she wasn't going to beat me with a broom.

Poor Anchal struggled, she just couldn't be sexy. I don't know what a slut is -- maybe it's a term women assign to other women. The other women tried hard to be "sexy," one stood out, but it just wasn't a dirty stripshow that I expected.

Then, it was back to the same old garbage, so I headed back to my room. Don't know if Anchal was booted.

Over light banter next day, E asked me: "Why do I watch so much trashy TV?" This quirkiness is what makes her so awesome. I consoled her, saying "atleast you aren't listening to Billy Joel after a long day of work!"

(Postscript: Happy Halloween mum and dad, sorry if this entry makes you want to disown me. Back intellectual stuff that makes you proud soon, promise..)

A sample Diwali day in India

Some Diwali tidbits as seen over years in India:

-> 6:40AM, the doorbell rings, and the milkman shows up, asking for a "Diwali baksheesh." Mom hand out Rs. 40, and no, that ain't enough. "I've worked so hard, gotten up early in the morning." Got a point, Mom adds Rs. 40 more. "And you better stop mixing water with the milk from now, or no more baksheesh." Milkman makes a run for it with his huge water bottle.

-> 7:15AM, newspaper delivery guy shows up. Perhaps the only day he reliably delivers the complete set of newspapers. More "Diwali Baksheesh." Mom hands Rs. 40, and paperguy says "What memsaheb? I served you so well!" Memsaheb gets livid, and pops up an annual list of the days on which he didn't deliver newspapers (like 183 days or something). "Either take the baksheesh or give it back." Paperguy scoots.

-> Cable TV repair guy shows up, around 10:25 a.m., to check the wires. "Baksheesh, madam." Mom's a bit blank. "But yesterday another cable guy came," she says. "Madam, he is cheat! I am the real cable guy!" His proof? Some bare cable wires, RadioShack type. Mom goes on "Cable TV is working fine, maybe you have come to the wrong flat."

-> Afternoon newspaper guy shows up at around 2:15, Mom is sleeping. Dad deals with this dude. "Diwali Baksheesh, sahib." Dad pops out Rs. 80. "What saheb, Memsaaheb promised more." Dad pops out Rs. 200 more. Mom finds out, she gets angry on Dad. "One thing Ma didn't teach you was how to bargain."

Diwali's awesome in India, except for visiting a crowded temple to pay respect to Krishna and his 16384 wives. Inadvertently, the slippers you leave outside get stolen.

Hot buns and Carl's Jr.

After showing plenty of buns and getting down and dirty at Mr. Smith (a club somewhere around Market and 9th in San Francisco), I headed out looking for some chow. It was late, and the first place I found was a Carl's Jr. Not ideal for Hindus, but screw religion. I was hungry.

As I walked to the food slaughterhouse, I comforted a worried soul on the horn and asked her not worry about my drunken state. Truth? I was worried because she was more drunk, and she can drink like a gutter.

At Mr. Smith, I pocketed my glasses before hitting the floor. They got jammed, and they wouldn't open. All I could read on Carl's Jr.'s menu was "low fat" and the cashier ran the register. $7:03 was the bill, whatever dude. So I was getting "low fat," something that looked like a chicken sandwich.

Ended up being a burger with tomato, spinach and no bun. The lettuce jammed on both sides was the bun. Looked freaky at first, I'm like "what the f*** is this?" Turned out, it wasn't that bad. I was a bit wasted, but I know a burger when I taste it. Burgers really don't need buns.

With a surgery next week, my original plan at Melanie's place (she's back from Banda Aceh) wasn't to go to Mr. Smith. Then S spurted out that a DJ named "Omar" was spinning, and I thought Desi (Indian) music instantly. "I'm coming," I said. Fark it, who cares. Go for it, let vodka mix with the doctor's medicines.

Mr. Smith's a pretty good place, give it a try. After numerous vodka shots everybody started looking like a Desi, but I saw a substantial Indian crowd there.

On a larger scale, Mr Smith was good for me. An uncalculated move in the ongoing transition with a lot looming, this was a good antidote.

(Postscript: Drinking is NOT COOL. It is dangerous, can destroy lives, so avoid drinking if possible.)

Harold and Kumar go to....

Wanna spread happiness around? Unwittingly, I spread around loads of it after mentioning the impending release of Harold and Kumar go to.... in 2007. Folks were so thrilled they started dancing around. Where do the White Castle freaks go? It's a no-brainer. The dope capital in Europe. Go ahead and Google for more info.

Also, as I walked to Market St. with a fellow journalist yesterday after work, a flowing conversation led to the kid's book "Charlotte's Web," where a little piggy enlists the help of a spider from becoming pork. As a kid, I never read it, I was just so obsessed with Dr. Seuss titles like "Go Dog Go" that I missed a whole generation of kiddie fiction.

Coincidentally, there's a film version of Charlotte's Web coming out too, in late 2006, I just saw the trailer a few days ago. Told her that, and so thrilled she was, she jumped on the streets.

Thinking about the fiction I've read for a while, it's been mixed. I started with Dr. Seuss, then moved to Enid Blyton-Roald Dahl type stuff, (forget the middle), then got to Hardy Boys (ok, I'm NOT embarassed!). A few uninspiring mysteries later I took on non-fiction, perhaps at 17 or 18. I'm still stuck on that end, like war stories and lives of real people. Occassionally, I read fiction, Don DeLillo's my favorite author.

Right now, I'm back to the basics -- Harry Potter VI. It's frustrating at times to see the verbosity -- I'm a pro editor -- but keep in mind, the book is written for kids who need more words to understand the sentence. It takes real talent to write such easy-to-read books, hats off to JK Rowling.

The misguided, rock music-obsessed Chick Pea is a person who writes like that in the blog universe. Simple language, an easy-to-read format and great structure make her blog super fun to read. Dr. Seuss' absolute, puristic influence. Her prescriptions will be terrible to read though.

The railing connection

Picture two babies fighting over a toy -- that is Russia and Georgia's political feud. In between their torrid love affairs, its baffling just how much they fight.

Last year, both countries decided to reestablish the Transcaucasian rail link between Moscow and Tbilisi that was severed years earlier. The rail resumed earlier this year, but with problems about establishing checkpoints and other usual blah.

Then, Moscow stopped the rail link with Georgia when the conflict started late Sept. Technically, not exactly.

Moscow still operates trains to Abkhazia, a semi-autonomous Georgian province where Russia supports the rebels fighting Georgian forces. Russia first established a rail connection with Abkhazia in 2004. Georgia got upset, saying Russia's actions encouraged separatism in Georgia. Russia didn't care. They yelled boo and kept chugging.

The Abkhazia train service was a minor issue in the widespread fight between Georgia and Russia. Now that Russia has suspended the Tbilisi-Moscow service, that issue could pop up again.

Each political issue they bring to the table -- like the train one -- is so immature and imbecile that it feels like babies fighting over milk. That's just the political issues; the non-political conflict in Abkhazia and South Ossetia itself is a very serious matter.

Russia has invested a lot in Georgia, so as long as transportation remains severed, Georgia will suffer economically. Armenia for certain wants the service running, as the train floats from Moscow to Tbilisi down to Baku carrying loads of freight and keeping Armenia's trade connection with Russia alive. At this point, Armenia just has no say.

Try the best they can to bring this fight to the world stage, Russia won't succeed. The world has a lot more crap to deal with right now than Georgia, an unharmful little country in the Russian backwaters. Russia has done what it could to publicize the affair -- evacuate citizens and personnel, sever transport links, try to impose trade sanctions, run a pony and monkey show -- but none of it will work anymore.

This conflict will hopefully end soon, and the trains will run again.