Yo yo yo dC,
My top dawg, hows it hangin? I’ve been facin some major problematic problems recently and I thought Id drop you a holler and get some advice with a side orderin of rice you know what im sayin?
Anyway, the deal is bro that I just cant get myself to wake up in the friggin morning. No matter what I try. My woman be busy screaming her gawddamn lungs out but I cant get the body to move. My mind is saying come on boss, shake it, bake it, make it happen. But it just doesn’t work. Ive tried alarms, bombs, early morning FM, makin my lady throw a bucket of cold water on me (just resulted in me almost smackin her for her impudence), etc etc… Basically, ive tried everything…
I’ve got a job answering queries at the airline counter in Mumbai airport and getting late is just gonna get my ass fired. Help boss, youre like the savior for my misbehavior dude…
-dozing in dadar
Dear dozemaster,
As my good friend Sam would say..its hanging a bit to the left today. But ok, getting to your problem…I have a few issues with the selection of solutions you embarked on.
1.Early morning Indian FM is not for waking/listening purposes. Its what the Indian army uses to torture those who cross the LOC illegally. Don’t ever do that to yourself man..no matter how much of an idiot you might think you are (and you seem to be ranking quite high in the india’s most retarded hitlist)
2.bombs? Dude…..
3.cold water? Man….there are times when I don’t even know what to say….
So anyway, I fortunately, (as in most cases) do not share in your particular predicament, so I turned to my phenomenon of a flatmate who sleeps so much through the day, I sometimes think he’s in a call center. He however, miraculously, survives on, gets his ass out of bed and keeps his job, somehow…Here is what he had to say:
“the oversleeping condition (complimented by the ‘I cant wake up in the morning condition’ is caused by the severe reproduction of the violet colored imbecile-effect inducing moronis cells in the brain’s frontal lobe area. The best solution is to have someone deliver a swift kick in the nuts to you first thing in the morning". Whilst this is something my flatmate has to deal with often, my advice is to follow it up with a supremely loud playback of korn’s issues album or megadeth’s - youthanasia. There is a track in the issues album called wake up that I used for 2 months in a row during my god-forsaken board exams. I never heard it once after that due to the hellish nightmares it brings, but yeah, it got the job done.
Secondly, quit whining and grow a pair.
Sleep earlier, quit fantasizing on how you’ll one day become rich and successful, quit watching late night home-shopping networks (you cannot afford anything) and finally, try to expand your severe lack of grey matter with some intellectual reading. Whilst someone like you would not understand anything a book might be trying to express, it will make you sleepy and hopefully get you up in the morning screaming ‘holy crap!, im a loser, time to make something of my life!’
Hope this helps.
-dC
P.S. aren’t you the idiot who was getting clobbered for not providing the VIP passengers with information on the delayed flight out of Mumbai last week?
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Thursday, February 01, 2007
dC's advice column: the inheritance of loss
Dear dC,
This last week has been the very saddest of my entire life. I have never known the earth shattering aftermath of a great loss; but god, in all his beauty, in all his cruelty took someone very close away from me, and I just have not been able to find the answers…
He was over a 160 years old, the oldest living member of our family, Abraham D’Souza (affectionately ‘Abe’) - our pet turtle passed away silently in his sleep.
Having seen me grown up and having been with me through the toughest of times, I am looking for a way to honor his life with a funeral ceremony. Knowing the sensitivity and beauty with which you express your deepest feelings, I thought who better than dC to help me make this a glorious goodbye.
-Lost in lucknow
Dear lost,
Man, I have one question for you. What kind of people, or lets say what species on this planet, choose a turtle for a pet? I mean seriously. Is a turtle even categorized in the ‘Worlds Handbook of Certified Pets’? I’m trying to see your side here, I really am. All I’m left wondering though is – Dude, a turtle? Did you guys play catch? Did he bound into the doorway when he saw you come back from school? Did he lick your face when seeing you after a family vacation? Did he purr gently and snuggle up next to you?
Dude…a handbag is not a pet.
Also, with my little knowledge of turtles, Abe here passed away well before his time right? ‘cos these dudes usually live upto being like 8000 years old or something? I was watching this national geographic once and they found this 4000 year old skeleton, and there was a turtle sitting right next to it. What was crazy though was that scientists figured out he was one of those angst filled teenage turtles (not the mutant ninja ones) going through puberty. Man, thats some old shit.
Don’t get me wrong though. I, in all my wisdom once thought of getting a turtle as well. I have no idea why. I even thought of a name – Tot. Pretty insipid name but I was like 6 or something. Anyway, the idea was scrapped when my dad (the great and original senior DC) brought to light that harsh realities of everyday life.
“dC my son, you’d call tot for breakfast and he would come down for dinner”.
As always he was right. I got a pet elephant itself, a much better choice and only partially illegal.
Ok, so anyway. You want to plan a funeral thing. I guess you’d do the usual – life size picture of ol’ Abe in the front. Friends and family crawling around his 4x4 coffin munching (slowly) on some cloves or leaves or something…
You gotta have the right music ofcourse…I’d suggest any of George Winston’s albums (the December album is tremendously soulful)...If you want to really get a tribute going you might wanna put on some Robert cray or Kenny wayne Sheppard to kick in the blues as the amphibians and you discuss stories of how he once sped across the living room in less than a week to honor his beloved kimi raikkonen. Yeah, itll be a relaxed scene. Maybe later you guys can make a table out of him or something. Honor and utility are partners in the game of life….
Hope this helps
-dC
P.S. if I get a mail from you 5 years later asking for a first draft on the eulogy of your pet snake ‘anna’ ; the answer is no.
This last week has been the very saddest of my entire life. I have never known the earth shattering aftermath of a great loss; but god, in all his beauty, in all his cruelty took someone very close away from me, and I just have not been able to find the answers…
He was over a 160 years old, the oldest living member of our family, Abraham D’Souza (affectionately ‘Abe’) - our pet turtle passed away silently in his sleep.
Having seen me grown up and having been with me through the toughest of times, I am looking for a way to honor his life with a funeral ceremony. Knowing the sensitivity and beauty with which you express your deepest feelings, I thought who better than dC to help me make this a glorious goodbye.
-Lost in lucknow
Dear lost,
Man, I have one question for you. What kind of people, or lets say what species on this planet, choose a turtle for a pet? I mean seriously. Is a turtle even categorized in the ‘Worlds Handbook of Certified Pets’? I’m trying to see your side here, I really am. All I’m left wondering though is – Dude, a turtle? Did you guys play catch? Did he bound into the doorway when he saw you come back from school? Did he lick your face when seeing you after a family vacation? Did he purr gently and snuggle up next to you?
Dude…a handbag is not a pet.
Also, with my little knowledge of turtles, Abe here passed away well before his time right? ‘cos these dudes usually live upto being like 8000 years old or something? I was watching this national geographic once and they found this 4000 year old skeleton, and there was a turtle sitting right next to it. What was crazy though was that scientists figured out he was one of those angst filled teenage turtles (not the mutant ninja ones) going through puberty. Man, thats some old shit.
Don’t get me wrong though. I, in all my wisdom once thought of getting a turtle as well. I have no idea why. I even thought of a name – Tot. Pretty insipid name but I was like 6 or something. Anyway, the idea was scrapped when my dad (the great and original senior DC) brought to light that harsh realities of everyday life.
“dC my son, you’d call tot for breakfast and he would come down for dinner”.
As always he was right. I got a pet elephant itself, a much better choice and only partially illegal.
Ok, so anyway. You want to plan a funeral thing. I guess you’d do the usual – life size picture of ol’ Abe in the front. Friends and family crawling around his 4x4 coffin munching (slowly) on some cloves or leaves or something…
You gotta have the right music ofcourse…I’d suggest any of George Winston’s albums (the December album is tremendously soulful)...If you want to really get a tribute going you might wanna put on some Robert cray or Kenny wayne Sheppard to kick in the blues as the amphibians and you discuss stories of how he once sped across the living room in less than a week to honor his beloved kimi raikkonen. Yeah, itll be a relaxed scene. Maybe later you guys can make a table out of him or something. Honor and utility are partners in the game of life….
Hope this helps
-dC
P.S. if I get a mail from you 5 years later asking for a first draft on the eulogy of your pet snake ‘anna’ ; the answer is no.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
dC's advice column: holding my drink
dear dC,
I’m a smart, attractive working girl with a good pay check and enough men humming around me for attention. I like to go clubbing and enjoy the occasional blues concert as well. The problem is that I can’t really hold my drink…I can start off slow with a small screwdriver or apple martini, but post the second or third drink I’m usually flying pretty high and this has caused more than an embarrassing situation for me in the past. I recently had to be carried home in a bit of an inebriated state by co-workers which has resulted in a few (but irritating) office jokes….
Any advice from a alco-master like yourself?
-tipsy in Trivandrum.
Dear Tipsy,
Ok girlfriend, here’s the deal…people who cannot handle their drink, should NOT DRINK. If there’s anything I hate more than preppy chicks getting wasted on the first wiff of a tight rum and coke, is preppy chicks with some semblance of a brain knowingly making a retarded fool out of themselves. In case you haven’t noticed, you are gracefully and fortunately classified as type B.
Now as I see it, staying away from the fortified grapes isn’t really your forte so I’ll suggest a few other solutions. Try mixing soft drinks with your beer; try adding tremendous quantities of coke with anything alcoholic you drink; eat a lot as you drink; and drink a lot of water as you consume. Now each of these activities will certify you as a grade A loser, I mean who wants to have a conversation with a chick over a friendly drink as she’s stuffing her face with tikkas and red-bull?? It will also make you fat and possibly quite bloated. Congratulations, you shall soon be a certified social disaster; but hell, way better than finding yourself twisted upside down throwing up like an anorexic with food poisoning, all re-enacting scenes from the exorcist. Oh, and if you want to keep drinking, just listen to some robbie Williams and james blunt while you’re at it, it’s the kind of music which will kill your high no matter what you’re on.
Hope this helps.
-dC
I’m a smart, attractive working girl with a good pay check and enough men humming around me for attention. I like to go clubbing and enjoy the occasional blues concert as well. The problem is that I can’t really hold my drink…I can start off slow with a small screwdriver or apple martini, but post the second or third drink I’m usually flying pretty high and this has caused more than an embarrassing situation for me in the past. I recently had to be carried home in a bit of an inebriated state by co-workers which has resulted in a few (but irritating) office jokes….
Any advice from a alco-master like yourself?
-tipsy in Trivandrum.
Dear Tipsy,
Ok girlfriend, here’s the deal…people who cannot handle their drink, should NOT DRINK. If there’s anything I hate more than preppy chicks getting wasted on the first wiff of a tight rum and coke, is preppy chicks with some semblance of a brain knowingly making a retarded fool out of themselves. In case you haven’t noticed, you are gracefully and fortunately classified as type B.
Now as I see it, staying away from the fortified grapes isn’t really your forte so I’ll suggest a few other solutions. Try mixing soft drinks with your beer; try adding tremendous quantities of coke with anything alcoholic you drink; eat a lot as you drink; and drink a lot of water as you consume. Now each of these activities will certify you as a grade A loser, I mean who wants to have a conversation with a chick over a friendly drink as she’s stuffing her face with tikkas and red-bull?? It will also make you fat and possibly quite bloated. Congratulations, you shall soon be a certified social disaster; but hell, way better than finding yourself twisted upside down throwing up like an anorexic with food poisoning, all re-enacting scenes from the exorcist. Oh, and if you want to keep drinking, just listen to some robbie Williams and james blunt while you’re at it, it’s the kind of music which will kill your high no matter what you’re on.
Hope this helps.
-dC
Thursday, January 25, 2007
dC's advice column: dance
Dear dC,
Ok this one is really straight from the gut dude. I’m a happily chilled out 17 yr old on the verge of graduating high school. I’m tall, good at sports and popular with the ladies. Now, in this last year or so, I have had to come to face with like this major problem ok, im talking earth shattering problem and its busting my nuts. The fact is that the number of parties taking place in the vicinity of my social circle are growing like majorly ok, like you know crazy amounts. There’s a party for everything and the rest of the boys and I look forward to having some scene to kinda get our flirtations and all on you know….that sort of thing. Anyway, what has been pointed out to me by some of my homeboys is the horrible truth that … well…god damnit!!
I can’t dance.
Like I just ain’t got the rhythm in my butt or legs you know. Im standing there listening to Akon but my bodies moving like a retarded adaptation of the Phantom of the Opera. Now whilst the chicks haven’t noticed quite just yet (‘cos well you know I stand in the corner and bob my head playin all cool like), im sure its gonna dawn on them someday that im this sociopathic loser who needs to be in dance party quarantine…
Help DUDE HELP!...i know music is the answer and no matter how much I play my judas priest greatest hits album I can’t get myself to shake it like a saltshaka’’’..
Much love
Danceless in delhi
Dear danceless,
Oh hell yeah, I remember dudes like you. All Iron Maiden wearing, corner-of-the-party standing, head bobbing metallicats acting all cool, thinking the music was all happy and gay but not really joining in the festivities. I feel your pain. Well I don’t really feel it because I’m quite frankly the rug-cutting, soul-shaking, bootie knocking male version of fergy but yeah, in the possible parallel universe where dC cant dance, I feel your pain. Loser.
Ok, first off delhi boy, judas isn’t going to help you. You ever seen a tiny-skirt wearing, heavily made up delhi chick that would turn down prince William (not cos he’s not good enough for her but because she doesn’t know who prince William is) go all ballistic to Halford screaming ‘I believe you’re the devils child…?’ No you haven’t. And if you have, get yourself checked ‘cos you’re most probably dead. Anyway, Judas isn’t going to help. What you need to do is grab yourself some good house music that won’t cause your testicular fortitude to run down your pants and shy away from you screaming ‘no master noooo’. I’m talking house with an attitude that makes you move. I’d suggest a mix of Daft Punk’s Homework, Paul Oakenfold’s live in Havana and Oslo albums, mixed up with a bit of Depeche mode (world in my eyes, Halo) and possibly a few Disco Kandi records. Don’t be afraid to stand in front of the mirror and try to shake a bit. The sight might be ugly but in the end you’ll come out stronger.
I don’t usually say this, but try and turn on MTV for half an hour a day and watch any of the pathetic excuse for entertainment music videos for inspiration. If you’re desperate, watch any usher video, whilst this is supremely gay, I have to prescribe something slightly more extreme for your ‘govinda’ condition. Turn MTV off before it completely rots your mind though. The fungal infection caused by MTV in the brain can commence anywhere between 20-25 minutes...
Finally, get yourself a copy of a Genesis’ song called ‘I can’t dance’. It’s a terribly catchy, satirical and ironic number that shall remind you of the terrible world we live in where god doesn’t make us all equal and it comes down to those who can, and those who cannot- dance.
Peace retard. Don’t fall over yourself trying to jive a chikita, proclaiming desires for a hikita.
-dC
P.S. and don’t lie to me, aint no dude good at sports can claim he’s got dance disabilities. Unless you’re playing kabaddi professionally, in which case quit reading and writing into my column.
Ok this one is really straight from the gut dude. I’m a happily chilled out 17 yr old on the verge of graduating high school. I’m tall, good at sports and popular with the ladies. Now, in this last year or so, I have had to come to face with like this major problem ok, im talking earth shattering problem and its busting my nuts. The fact is that the number of parties taking place in the vicinity of my social circle are growing like majorly ok, like you know crazy amounts. There’s a party for everything and the rest of the boys and I look forward to having some scene to kinda get our flirtations and all on you know….that sort of thing. Anyway, what has been pointed out to me by some of my homeboys is the horrible truth that … well…god damnit!!
I can’t dance.
Like I just ain’t got the rhythm in my butt or legs you know. Im standing there listening to Akon but my bodies moving like a retarded adaptation of the Phantom of the Opera. Now whilst the chicks haven’t noticed quite just yet (‘cos well you know I stand in the corner and bob my head playin all cool like), im sure its gonna dawn on them someday that im this sociopathic loser who needs to be in dance party quarantine…
Help DUDE HELP!...i know music is the answer and no matter how much I play my judas priest greatest hits album I can’t get myself to shake it like a saltshaka’’’..
Much love
Danceless in delhi
Dear danceless,
Oh hell yeah, I remember dudes like you. All Iron Maiden wearing, corner-of-the-party standing, head bobbing metallicats acting all cool, thinking the music was all happy and gay but not really joining in the festivities. I feel your pain. Well I don’t really feel it because I’m quite frankly the rug-cutting, soul-shaking, bootie knocking male version of fergy but yeah, in the possible parallel universe where dC cant dance, I feel your pain. Loser.
Ok, first off delhi boy, judas isn’t going to help you. You ever seen a tiny-skirt wearing, heavily made up delhi chick that would turn down prince William (not cos he’s not good enough for her but because she doesn’t know who prince William is) go all ballistic to Halford screaming ‘I believe you’re the devils child…?’ No you haven’t. And if you have, get yourself checked ‘cos you’re most probably dead. Anyway, Judas isn’t going to help. What you need to do is grab yourself some good house music that won’t cause your testicular fortitude to run down your pants and shy away from you screaming ‘no master noooo’. I’m talking house with an attitude that makes you move. I’d suggest a mix of Daft Punk’s Homework, Paul Oakenfold’s live in Havana and Oslo albums, mixed up with a bit of Depeche mode (world in my eyes, Halo) and possibly a few Disco Kandi records. Don’t be afraid to stand in front of the mirror and try to shake a bit. The sight might be ugly but in the end you’ll come out stronger.
I don’t usually say this, but try and turn on MTV for half an hour a day and watch any of the pathetic excuse for entertainment music videos for inspiration. If you’re desperate, watch any usher video, whilst this is supremely gay, I have to prescribe something slightly more extreme for your ‘govinda’ condition. Turn MTV off before it completely rots your mind though. The fungal infection caused by MTV in the brain can commence anywhere between 20-25 minutes...
Finally, get yourself a copy of a Genesis’ song called ‘I can’t dance’. It’s a terribly catchy, satirical and ironic number that shall remind you of the terrible world we live in where god doesn’t make us all equal and it comes down to those who can, and those who cannot- dance.
Peace retard. Don’t fall over yourself trying to jive a chikita, proclaiming desires for a hikita.
-dC
P.S. and don’t lie to me, aint no dude good at sports can claim he’s got dance disabilities. Unless you’re playing kabaddi professionally, in which case quit reading and writing into my column.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
dC's advice column: world music
Dear dC,
You seem like a well traveled individual. Which part of the world have you picked up direct influences of your musical tastes from?
Why I ask is that I am going to Bangladesh soon and it is my first experience of international travel….I’d love to get some tips on how to go deep into the roots of that culture and dig out music that encompasses the core of their cultural diversity…
-Chatterjee Sen from Kolkatta…
Dear Senmaster (not),
Just a second. Let me get this straight. You live in Bengal, you’ve never traveled abroad, and of all the god-forsaken locations on this gorgeous planet you choose Bangladesh? Man, you’ve got a brain, the internet and hence possibly enough cash flow to afford a newspaper… Are you not seeing what’s going on in that country??? Political lockdown, economic distress….do these words make any sense to you? Dude, they haven’t got things sorted out since the British left us battered and bruised 50+ years ago. They’re busy giving nobel prizes to dudes for micro-finance policies , little realizing that that’s the entire economy itself...
Anyway, what you do in your spare time man….
Finding about musical tastes in different cultures is a discovery. People watch the European top 20 on crap-assed MTV or VH1 and they’re all “im multi cultural and embrace diversity”. Bite me. The same shit does the same rounds all over the world as capitalists drive forward selfish motives and promote seemingly (but hardly) global sounds like shakira and Madonna to any continent that can afford it.
My trick – go into homes man. People’s homes. Go for small Sunday fests in little known cities and hear the music they play. Walk slowly behind mothers taking their children for a walk and listen in on the lullaby they sing. Don’t get too close or you’ll get a roundhouse kick all the way back to rosagulla land but you get my drift.
I spent a weekend at a gorgeous little cottage in the outskirts of Bern once where all I heard was a piano infused jazz collection of the home-owners family collection. Not exactly my cup of tea but it gave me a sense of the serenity of the place. I went for a live concert 3 months later and heard a rapped up French version (in concert) of dr. Jekyll and mr. hyde with Will I am in an awesome avatar. The answer is on the streets.
Man I don’t know what you’re doing in Bangladesh but if finding flute organs made out of raw rice and playing it for pleasure is what you call music, hell all I’ll say is respect….
If you become a political prisoner though I’m denying I ever gave you advice.
-dC
You seem like a well traveled individual. Which part of the world have you picked up direct influences of your musical tastes from?
Why I ask is that I am going to Bangladesh soon and it is my first experience of international travel….I’d love to get some tips on how to go deep into the roots of that culture and dig out music that encompasses the core of their cultural diversity…
-Chatterjee Sen from Kolkatta…
Dear Senmaster (not),
Just a second. Let me get this straight. You live in Bengal, you’ve never traveled abroad, and of all the god-forsaken locations on this gorgeous planet you choose Bangladesh? Man, you’ve got a brain, the internet and hence possibly enough cash flow to afford a newspaper… Are you not seeing what’s going on in that country??? Political lockdown, economic distress….do these words make any sense to you? Dude, they haven’t got things sorted out since the British left us battered and bruised 50+ years ago. They’re busy giving nobel prizes to dudes for micro-finance policies , little realizing that that’s the entire economy itself...
Anyway, what you do in your spare time man….
Finding about musical tastes in different cultures is a discovery. People watch the European top 20 on crap-assed MTV or VH1 and they’re all “im multi cultural and embrace diversity”. Bite me. The same shit does the same rounds all over the world as capitalists drive forward selfish motives and promote seemingly (but hardly) global sounds like shakira and Madonna to any continent that can afford it.
My trick – go into homes man. People’s homes. Go for small Sunday fests in little known cities and hear the music they play. Walk slowly behind mothers taking their children for a walk and listen in on the lullaby they sing. Don’t get too close or you’ll get a roundhouse kick all the way back to rosagulla land but you get my drift.
I spent a weekend at a gorgeous little cottage in the outskirts of Bern once where all I heard was a piano infused jazz collection of the home-owners family collection. Not exactly my cup of tea but it gave me a sense of the serenity of the place. I went for a live concert 3 months later and heard a rapped up French version (in concert) of dr. Jekyll and mr. hyde with Will I am in an awesome avatar. The answer is on the streets.
Man I don’t know what you’re doing in Bangladesh but if finding flute organs made out of raw rice and playing it for pleasure is what you call music, hell all I’ll say is respect….
If you become a political prisoner though I’m denying I ever gave you advice.
-dC
dC's advice column: tattoo
Dear dC,
I’m planning to get my first ink-job….any advice from a well tattooed brother like yourself? Also, its not like the pain matters too much but just checking- how much does it hurt?
-Alex from Mumbai..
Dear Alex,
First of all, if the pain didn’t matter, you wouldn’t ask. So quit being a pansy and ask. Now as you asked I must say ‘quit being a wimp and worrying about the pain’. Especially the pain impaled upon from a tattoo. Tattoos are voluntary. In 59 years you might be suffering from some dilapidating disease that causes your bones to crumble at the touch of a hard substance and that is real pain. If we suddenly decide to go to war with sri lanka and the 2 of us need to get enlisted, and you get shot by an LTTE sniper dude in the bottom half of your left ass-cheek, that is pain. Quit whining.
Ok, about the tattoo. First of all, I am not that well-inked up. I have one glorious job paying homage to the sun-sign on my right arm which shall get supplemented at some time in the future….
Good tattoo parlors are numerous. Funky monkey in bandra is beyond tremendous. The player there has a phenomenal samurai scene going live across his chest and back. If you’re looking for pain, inspiration and true devotion ask him to take his shirt off to get a peek. Do not be gay about it though. Secondly, my tattoo experience was enhanced with bad company’s self titled album blaring behind my ears through the hour long duration required for the creation of ze masterpiece. Everytime I heard Paul Rodgers go “bad company, till the day I die…” it was a holy matrimony of an experience.
Anyway, I suggest you tell the ink-master to pump in something cool like the drive-by truckers or even old school alice in chains (man in a box or grind would be scintillating) …. If its pain you’re worried about though, there are hena tattoos on every beach in goa that offer mehndi jobs to little old ladies. They play compulsory goan Christian music with that fallacy of an art, but please refrain from writing or sending pictures to me of the aftermath if this is your choice of action.
Good luck and godspeed
-dC
I’m planning to get my first ink-job….any advice from a well tattooed brother like yourself? Also, its not like the pain matters too much but just checking- how much does it hurt?
-Alex from Mumbai..
Dear Alex,
First of all, if the pain didn’t matter, you wouldn’t ask. So quit being a pansy and ask. Now as you asked I must say ‘quit being a wimp and worrying about the pain’. Especially the pain impaled upon from a tattoo. Tattoos are voluntary. In 59 years you might be suffering from some dilapidating disease that causes your bones to crumble at the touch of a hard substance and that is real pain. If we suddenly decide to go to war with sri lanka and the 2 of us need to get enlisted, and you get shot by an LTTE sniper dude in the bottom half of your left ass-cheek, that is pain. Quit whining.
Ok, about the tattoo. First of all, I am not that well-inked up. I have one glorious job paying homage to the sun-sign on my right arm which shall get supplemented at some time in the future….
Good tattoo parlors are numerous. Funky monkey in bandra is beyond tremendous. The player there has a phenomenal samurai scene going live across his chest and back. If you’re looking for pain, inspiration and true devotion ask him to take his shirt off to get a peek. Do not be gay about it though. Secondly, my tattoo experience was enhanced with bad company’s self titled album blaring behind my ears through the hour long duration required for the creation of ze masterpiece. Everytime I heard Paul Rodgers go “bad company, till the day I die…” it was a holy matrimony of an experience.
Anyway, I suggest you tell the ink-master to pump in something cool like the drive-by truckers or even old school alice in chains (man in a box or grind would be scintillating) …. If its pain you’re worried about though, there are hena tattoos on every beach in goa that offer mehndi jobs to little old ladies. They play compulsory goan Christian music with that fallacy of an art, but please refrain from writing or sending pictures to me of the aftermath if this is your choice of action.
Good luck and godspeed
-dC
dC's advice column: getting it on.
Dear dC,
This is a bit embarrassing to say, but my husband and I (married for nearly 25 years now) have been having some trouble in the bedroom department lately. I don’t know if its his new job or the new mattress I just got from the discount store down the street; he just isn’t firing on all cylinders if you know what I mean. Or well, he’s firing a bit too quickly…well I’m sure you get the drift.
I’ve been reading your column and I am sure the wonders of music would get his ‘well you know’ thing going….
Please help! I want more children…4 is just not enough don’t you think?)
-Desperate in Dalhousie
Dear Desperate,
Ok lady, first off…you’ve been married for 25 years. Considering failed child marriage acts in this country I’m guessing that should make you atleast 30 years old. So please quit saying ‘well you know’ and ‘if you know what I mean’. We ain’t talking about the secret blood line of Jesus Christ or the crying lactose effect of ganesha statues here. Nothing to be shy about man. This isn’t Dan Brown’s advice column ok?
Ok. Back to your problem. Fairly common issue. My worry here is more for your husband and his state of mind at the moment though. You see men like to perform when relaxed. This is not just restricted to the bedroom. Whilst sport is a different matter (where adrenaline and competition play a mightier role in performance), the bedroom is about union, a congruence, a divine act. What im trying to say is , Lady, are you trying to make a little cricket team out of your kids? you’ve already got 4 in 25 years, go easy on the cycle of life sister, we’re all doing our bit…you don’t have to take on china alone you know.
Anyway, what you guys do is up to you. If mr. desperate needs some motivation I suggest a couple of things that have been known to work for some of my friends. My phenomenon of a flatmate chooses to play any one of the longish Doors numbers when he’s getting his mack on. Problem with that though can be that Jim’s songs many a times last longer than him so there’s this melody going “Mr Mojo riiiiiiiiiiisiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing, got to keep on riiiiiiiiiisiiiiiiiiiiiiing” and I come downstairs to find the 2 of them washed up, dressed and drinking stale orange juice….not the coolest scene on the block you know but yeah an option…
Don’t go for the obvious sexual healing and lets get it on. They’re clichés and quite frankly no Indian dude can ever really compare male machismo to the African-american…way out of our league. For your unique case though, I propose putting on Lenny Kravitz’ greatest hits and learning the words to ‘I belong to you’. That’s gotta get things smoking…and if not. Just get a poster of the dude on the wall, whatever Mr. Dalhousie can offer, you can enhance through lenny’s supposed super sexuality. I’ve known a few cats to shake off below average (but good people type) lovers through that image.
Hope this helps.
-dC
This is a bit embarrassing to say, but my husband and I (married for nearly 25 years now) have been having some trouble in the bedroom department lately. I don’t know if its his new job or the new mattress I just got from the discount store down the street; he just isn’t firing on all cylinders if you know what I mean. Or well, he’s firing a bit too quickly…well I’m sure you get the drift.
I’ve been reading your column and I am sure the wonders of music would get his ‘well you know’ thing going….
Please help! I want more children…4 is just not enough don’t you think?)
-Desperate in Dalhousie
Dear Desperate,
Ok lady, first off…you’ve been married for 25 years. Considering failed child marriage acts in this country I’m guessing that should make you atleast 30 years old. So please quit saying ‘well you know’ and ‘if you know what I mean’. We ain’t talking about the secret blood line of Jesus Christ or the crying lactose effect of ganesha statues here. Nothing to be shy about man. This isn’t Dan Brown’s advice column ok?
Ok. Back to your problem. Fairly common issue. My worry here is more for your husband and his state of mind at the moment though. You see men like to perform when relaxed. This is not just restricted to the bedroom. Whilst sport is a different matter (where adrenaline and competition play a mightier role in performance), the bedroom is about union, a congruence, a divine act. What im trying to say is , Lady, are you trying to make a little cricket team out of your kids? you’ve already got 4 in 25 years, go easy on the cycle of life sister, we’re all doing our bit…you don’t have to take on china alone you know.
Anyway, what you guys do is up to you. If mr. desperate needs some motivation I suggest a couple of things that have been known to work for some of my friends. My phenomenon of a flatmate chooses to play any one of the longish Doors numbers when he’s getting his mack on. Problem with that though can be that Jim’s songs many a times last longer than him so there’s this melody going “Mr Mojo riiiiiiiiiiisiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing, got to keep on riiiiiiiiiisiiiiiiiiiiiiing” and I come downstairs to find the 2 of them washed up, dressed and drinking stale orange juice….not the coolest scene on the block you know but yeah an option…
Don’t go for the obvious sexual healing and lets get it on. They’re clichés and quite frankly no Indian dude can ever really compare male machismo to the African-american…way out of our league. For your unique case though, I propose putting on Lenny Kravitz’ greatest hits and learning the words to ‘I belong to you’. That’s gotta get things smoking…and if not. Just get a poster of the dude on the wall, whatever Mr. Dalhousie can offer, you can enhance through lenny’s supposed super sexuality. I’ve known a few cats to shake off below average (but good people type) lovers through that image.
Hope this helps.
-dC
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