Darlings,



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My mum is a pretty peculiar woman. Today she judged an entire shopping mall based on the availability of certain veggies in the mall's hypermarket. Long gone are the days where you would judge a mall by its stores - today a healthy cucumber will tell all.

Pondering on this rather bizarre vegetable-related observation, I could not help but come to the conclusion that women are the real natural scavengers. Just stand in the vegetable section of any supermarket and you will observe the women carefully scouring the various boxes on display for the ripest, freshest items. And when they spot it, they zero in with pinpoint accuracy, a hand darts out, and it's all over in a matter of seconds. Bagged, billed, and ready for the soup pot. I tell you what, it's a real struggle for survival in the veggie domain. A woman will claw your eyes out in the quest to find the right potato to make her alloo ghobi just right. And don't even get me started on sales. During a sale, the aisles of stores become more dangerous than the Emirates Road.

Let's face it - we're all discount divas at heart.

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Even though I have Saturdays off from work, I stupidly drag my carcass to the office anyway. One of these days someone's going to walk into the office in the morning and find me sleeping on the floor in my camping bag. You know how there's never enough time in the day to finish all the stuff we had planned? Take today for example. Here's a detailed timeframe of the day's events:

6:00am Wake up and proceed to bathroom for detox.

6:30am Head to kitchen for large cup of tea and the morning paper.

7:00am - 7:35am A bit of a blur, as the taxi driver was doing 140 everywhere he went. On the beloved SZR the radar flashed off just as I had my hand up to adjust my glasses. Yet another unflattering picture of me is out there.

8:00am - 4:30pm Got through my various emails and pending phone calls etc. Gave R a call on her cell only to be answered with the blaring 'Bellydancer' tune. Barf.

5:15pm - 5:45pm Spent time with R and her hormone infused dog. Headed to the salon to get my hair done.

7:00pm All done with my new hairdo and proceeded to pay the chap with my credit card, only to receive a rather stunned look from him. He points to a size 10pt sign that says "Cash Payment Only". I empty out my wallet of all cash, which proceeds to pay the bill in full and leave a 5 dirham tip. I am never going to be allowed in there again.

8:00pm After a brief shopping stint, hopped into a cab to head home and began tucking into a lovely takeaway pasta with chicken and mushrooms. Cab smells of a heavy, thick musky scent (isn't that the tag line from an Old Spice advert?). Enjoying my pasta when some random doctor chick on the radio begins narrating the best way for mothers to produce breast milk (did you get that people? BREAST MILK). Proceed to pack up pasta and return to bag.

9:00am Finally home and at my computer only to find my blog has been blocked. So if you're reading this, you are very lucky. Please print out copies of this entry and distribute at your canteen (like a prehistoric RSS feed).

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Okay, a ridiculously short post today just to get a plug for a friend. Please visit Baan's Blog and give him some traffic! I must say that I was greatly disappointed at the content of the photo gallery, no matter how artistic some photos looked. I expect the password-protected adult photo section will be up soon, so will keep you all updated.

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Many of you who read my blog have emailed me various questions, most of them just simple questions like where I live, what I'm like in person, and what brand of shampoo I like. So, to veer off the path slightly, this post is an almost-complete picture of me.

The Basics
I'm a 24 year old single queer Indian guy. Though I savor food like the French and have sex like the Italians, I am an extremely social person. I am a towering 6' 2" in height, so I'm really easy to spot out in a crowd. I've apparently been blessed with a fast metabolism so that I always stay in the 59-63kg weight range, so yes I have a slim figure with no ass. Not a fair trade if you ask me. Black hair with brown eyes and rimless glasses. Love to smile and laugh as well. I am the youngest of 4 kids - 2 are married, 1 is too picky, and I've got relationship issues.

The Person
I would definitely describe myself as loud. I get my booming voice from my mum's genetics, as well as her cooking skills. Food is very important to me, and I think any solution can be solved by talking it over a nice meal. I really like Italian and Chinese food, though I'm open to trying anything at least once. I love meeting new people, and once I get to know you well enough, I can't stop talking. I love computers and tech gadgets, as well as going on trips to the malls and unwinding with coffee and chocolate chip cookies.

The Life
I work, party, play, and shop in Dubai. Yet I live in Sharjah, which is about a 20 minute drive away. Why? Well, the rents are cheaper and my folks are there, so someone has to keep them out of trouble. I'm currently working in an HR company, which keeps me on my toes but gives me shopping money. My weekends usually involve me meeting up with my best friends, or if they are busy, some random chap off shagdar. Mind you, I'm not a slut - I do not sleep with anyone until at least I've had dinner.

The People
I have very few close friends in my life. Which is great, because in school and college I was often surrounded by people, and very few actual friends. My friends are my lifeline - they are the reason I am happy to wake up in the morning, and the reason I look forward to weekends. I am not ashamed at being gay at all, and almost everyone I am acquainted with knows that I'm gay. However, due to my parent's past cultural upbringing, I've found it best to keep this info from them until the right moment. Like a funeral perhaps. Hopefully mine.

The Man
As mentioned before, I'm single. I've only had 2 really serious relationships, but they were complicated. My ideal man would probably come out of a test tube, but until then I'm accepting applications. Over the years I've kept 'adjusting' the list of qualities I want in my man, but at the end of the day if I meet the right guy I'll probably burn that list anyway.


Not enough info for you? Drop me an email and I'll answer your questions!

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Okay, so my posts have been falling behind a bit - apologies to my loyal readers...all 4 of them. But this has been a very hectic week for me, so blogging took a back seat (which is usually my position). However, to make it up to you all, here's my observations during the week:

• The Lady has realized how people in Dubai are plastic photocopies of each other. Which is fine, except I want to meet my clone because there is a copyright on my face.

• Brad Pitt has refused to get married until - wait for it - all gay couples in the U.S can get married. So in a nutshell, he's not getting married any time soon to that marriage-wrecking skank he calls a partner. Good for you Brad! I need a rainbow-flag bearer for my engagement party...will you come?

• I have recently been promoted, which means even more work on my perfectly shampooed and coiffed head.

• Although I really do lack any sort of an ass, a friend I was chatting to said I had a cute butt nevertheless. Which would have been a great compliment if he hadn't been looking at a picture of me when I was 2 years old.

• I really have no control over my money. Especially when it comes to getting gifts for people. In other words, I have officially become a sugar daddy to like 8 people.

• People are still mourning for TetraPak. Er I mean TuPac. Get Over It.

• Adam and Steve was the funniest movie I've seen this week. Highly recommended for the queer DVD collection.

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A lot of people say that kids are becoming more and more violent because of television. I however, in my kid-free wisdom, have to disagree. Parents often oversee the somewhat innocent-looking books and fairy tales that the children read. If you sat with a psychologist and analysed the true meaning of some of these 'fairy tales', you'd burn them all and drag your kid straight to church. Think I'm being over dramatic? Well, let's discuss shall we?

Each fairy tale is supposed to have a moral or meaning to it. So for the sake of all the weed-smoking 5 year olds who read this blog, here's a 21st century translation of the 'traditional' fairy tales:

Snow White: always wash your fruit before you eat it. Also, don't accept anything from relatives who look like a 200 year old drag queen.
Rapunzel: I cannot stress enough the importance of a good conditioner.
Three Blind Mice: never run after a married man unless you want something amputated for free.
Red Riding Hood: if a relative you know has big teeth, large bloodshot eyes, and big ears, teach them to Just Say No to steroids.
Old Woman in a Shoe: never trust a real estate agent in Dubai.
Cinderella: never leave prom dress shopping to the last minute.
Thumbelina: always drink your milk!
Goldilocks: never let a blonde into your house. She will take all the silver and most likely break something.

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One thing I really don't like doing in the middle of a conversation is talking about the past. Especially during those odd moments when I chat with my folks. When my mum begins her sentence with "I remember when..." I know it's time to break out the popcorn. I guess no one told her that memory lane is a one way street. Plus, there's never anything really useful to talk about. I mean, I usually get stories of how they would walk to school barefoot, or how they had no electricity, or how underwear was made out of onion sack and none of this elastic bullshit.

What amazes me the most about many parents is their uncanny ability to bring up your most embarrassing childhood memories at the most inappropriate time. For example, at large Christmas dinners, or when you're over at the boss' house, or when you're all taking a dip in the already overcrowded community swimming pool.

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You are reading this post on a blog is no longer maintained - please visit www.outinmyhead.com instead!

Remember the days of the caveman? How the men would just pick any woman they wanted, club her over the head, and drag her back to his cave to have his way with her? I miss those days. I can't remember when was the last time a man clubbed me over the head and dragged me to his cave to have his way with me. I don't know, maybe I'm just old fashioned. Or prehistoric.

So, decided to spend the weekend at the Mall of the Emirates. You'd think that the people who built the Mall of the Emirates would have the Parking Lot of the Emirates to go with it. Anyway, I had a great time there with a good friend of mine, and enjoyed a wonderful meal at Sezzam (note to self: "Lasagne of the Day" doesn't always mean it's going to be made out of meat). Afterwards the inner child within us was screaming to go to Magic Planet (my inner child was screaming from the lasagne) so we headed off there and promptly blew 55 bucks on playing The House of the Dead III. That wasn't the shocking part actually. There was some local woman playing the same game on another machine, and the frightening thing was she was so good! I'm telling you all, there's nothing better to release years of pent up frustration than blowing off a zombie's testicles.

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