Desi Pop

The other day -- blessed be free previews, for I am too cheap to view anything otherwise -- I had the opportunity to catch up on some Desi pop videos. My heart flooded with joy upon learning that the good men of the South Asian entertainment media have liberated my young Desi sistaz from being sari-clad, subservient housewives to top-knotch video hoes. The most remarkable progress has been made in what I call the "Fake It and Shake It" genre: they take a golden classic, remake it with untrained singers, remix it with tonedeaf DJ's, and have hot teenagers lip-synch and shake their asses to it. A couple of the videos still featured hot white chicks in a pornographic beach orgy with an unfortunate-looking Desi man, but don't fret, my sistaz; with a little more Fair and Lovely, better hair straightening products, more accessible colored contact lenses, and obsessive low-carb dieting (the Jains invented it, you know!), we will soon acquire our rightful monopoly as Desi pop-smut princesses!

A Lingering Question

I have never understood the desire to own expensive lingerie. I can understand a person's desire to have her partner wear it, for it can surely look hot, but why would you want some for yourself? To "feel sexy" I suppose, but can't you just get stoned and stick your finger up your cunt for the same effect? It's always worked for me.

Perhaps it provides "better support." I could understand such a concept with respect to bras, but what kind of support does your pussy need? In my experience, anything other than 100% pure cotton from Target yields the most unsavory discharge.

Then, I understand there is this concept of "conspicuous consumption" where you buy shit just to show that you can, but how conspicuous would said undergarments be? If I ever do buy expensive lingerie, I will at least be sure to keep my shirt unbuttoned and wear a super-short skirt to display the distribution of my disposable income, because that is the only way anyone will ever see it. In the rare moment of passion I might find myself in, I am sure I will eagerly rip those articles off before they can even be seen.

Bargaining for time with Desi parents

My mom has selective hearing, always blocking out the second figure in my time span when she asks me what time I will be home. This is why I have a system worked out for when I expect to return after midnight: I give a figure, just ONE figure, well beyond the actual expected time, because I know both of our Desi asses will immediately begin bargaining.

"What time you will be home?"

"I don't know, like 4."

"FOUR??? No, you be home by 12."

"No, maybe 3."

"1."

"2:30."

"No later than 2. Take your cell phone and make sure you have gas."

Having been away during the year, I had forgotten that even a drive to the post office at 2:00pm requires a 10-minute conversation.

"Where are you going?"

"The post office."

"OK, so you will be back in 10 minutes?"

"No, maybe a little later."

"Why? You're just going to Treat, right?"

"No, Meridian Park."

"What? Why Meridian Park? Go to Treat. Have you seen gas prices recently?"

"Yeah but I might want to stop by the mall and look for clothes."

"No, absolutely not, I get nauseous looking at your closet. Look how many clothes you have! And so many that you don't even wear. Come back in 10 minutes and then go through your closet and remove the clothes you don't wear so we can give them to Salvation Army."

"OK, I'll do that later, but I want to find some new tops."

"No later-bater and no new top-bop. You think we are rich? And look how fat you are. Just sleeping and eating all day, don't even wake up to go for a walk in the morning. From tomorrow on I want you to wake up at 8 and come with me for a walk. The morning sun is the best. Lose at least 20 pounds and then think about new clothes. Go to post office on Treat and come back in 10 minutes."

"OK!!!!!!!"

"And make sure you lock the top and bottom lock as you are leaving. One day three months ago you had only locked the bottom. A thief could have come in!"

"But it's the same key for the top and bottom lock. If the thief could have unlocked the bottom one it also could have unlocked the top one."

"Don't get smart with me. Do you have enough gas?"

"Yeah, or I'll fill it."

"OK, and make sure you take your cell phone."

a bilingual poem of love

barson baad meri jaan
aayi mujhke ek yaad
woh thi ek choti si
mithi si paad

after years my darling
a memory came to heart
it was an endearing
and sweet little fart

andhi hokar bhi mujhe
ehsaas hua uska
bade hole hole se
khushboo ghusa

though i was blind
its essence i felt
at a very slow pace
its scent i smelt

ab is choti si paad
se juda kaise hoon
mera ek hissa ban gaya
jaisa mera lahoo

now from this small fart
how can i distance myself
it's become a part of me
like the blood in my cells