Sex is just a want, dude, not a need

Being sentimental is dangerous. It makes you look at boobs (delicious ones) and see breasts and when you begin thinking of a good fcuk as making love then, dude, you know you’re in a shit load of trouble.

       (Image from www.toonpool.com)

Bear with me here…I’m known to panic when it comes to certain things. In fact, I shouldn’t be looking at boobs…er…breasts at all! Nasty things, those, they tend to distract a man from the really important things in life.

I like to think of myself as an individual of genuine substance. An individual who understands sexual urges can be controlled. I refuse to be ruled by the animal in me.

In fact, I think I’ve been doing pretty well with ruling that animal. Unfortunately, being able to control your baser instincts gets you labelled as a prude and all sorts of other crap. However, I smile at such labelling. I look at my weaker human relatives and I pity them. I know that they struggle in a war I have long since won.


The thing is people tend to get their emotions involved in this simple animal act and they blow it out of proportion. They delude themselves into thinking sex is love, sex is connection, sex is a need. I say they need to get their brains checked.

I mean come on if they’re looking for a minute or less - that’s how long orgasms usually last right – of stress release then I can think of a million better ways to get it! Better yet use your hands…no one will ever do it to you like you, trust me on this.

My point? Don’t fcuk around and risk getting a disease because you’re looking for love. Understand your wants and control them. Stop being a sissy. You want love? Go adopt a fcuking kid!

Is that a hair?!

Nobody likes to find hair in their food. So the next time you're offered food and you feel you should refuse.DO IT! Who give's a shit if you offend the host?At least you won't end up finding a hair in your food!


That is what happend to me!


So yesterday I went to a friend's house and she introduced me to one of her uncles who then offered me food. Now I love Dall and curry.





Let's side track a bit so that I can tell you about curry. When Indian people make curry it's dark, it's spicy, it's mouth watering, it's fricking delicious! One thing it's not is hairy!







Now back on track. He offered me food so I said I'll have a little. While I love to eat I don't like to eat about the place. (My mom drilled it in me that it's not healthy, "and you ain't see how they preparing it" or something like that she'll say.)






So there I was debating whether or not to refuse. Eventually I gave in and my good friend had the good sense to take out a small portion. God bless her!

Now I started to eat the food. It wasn't bad and the uncle was being so hospitable showing photos of his family and giving me an unwanted run down of who's who all while my friend's trying to get us out of the house by doing a fast run through the photos as I play with my food. I had like a bite or two so far.





The scary part comes here. I took a piece of chicken and started to mix a little rice with it and I noticed something. It was short, black and thin. It wasn't a spice!I did two things at once: I supressed the urge to throw up right there and I tried to school my face from showing exactly how grossed out I was.

So to be polite and trying to hide the utter disgust I felt from my voice, I innocently ask, "What is that?" What I really wanted to say was, "WTF is this?" The funny part was when my dear friend looked over and goes, "Oh it's a hair," and went back to looking at the pictures.

Now she was mortified but she played it cool. Me, on the other hand, still wanting to hurl, made a big show of tentatively placing the hair at the side of the plate. At that point I could not hide my feelings. I was told it was all over my face!

I learnt a valuable lesson that night. The next time I feel like saying no, I'll say no!

I'm not sure that finding a hair in your food is bad for your health but it sure is disgusting to find one there. It's gross because you end up thinking about that hair and where it probally came from! I shudder at the thought alone!

But I have to give props to my friend. She handled the situation really well...as well as you can handle having your guest finding a hair in their food!

White Wine anyone? It’s free…

So I’m sipping some of the more expensive white wine available in Guyana. Of course there are some fools who would feel classy doing it. I know better.

It’s the cheapest bottle available from some fancy dude’s winery. But it’s foreign stuff which our more expensive Guyanese stores bought cheap and are selling to us classy people at a very classy price indeed.

Not that I’m really calling myself classy. I’m no fool. I value my dollars because I don’t make enough of them! Being in the non-profit business can be very frustrating sometimes. In fact let’s forget a bit about the white wine. Get to know me a bit.

Raine Alexander. Yes, that gay name (I’m not discriminating dude! If I turn out to be gay then I’ve got the perfect name) is just something I’ve got to live with. Well Alexander is sort of powerful but Raine is where the trouble is…fine, fine, fine! My name isn’t gay. It’s just romantic. Ugh.

Now if you’ve checked my profile out, I should tell you that the bit about me being in the non-profit business can be misleading. You see I don’t do charity or any of those saintly I’ll-go-to-heaven-if-I-do-it crap.

I’m so ashamed of my salary that I don’t have a personal bank account. I just have some joint ones and of course I didn’t put any of the money in those! I’m too poor.

You see, by the time I discount my travelling expenses and lunch money from my salary there isn’t much of it left. I slave all day on what I now consider my personal plantation – my home away from home – and I have nothing to show for it. So you see I really am like a non-profit organisation. I help to record history and bring the people information and I get a stipend.

So how do I afford to drink the very expensive cheap white wine we get here (which according to my very educated relative really tastes like rotten potatoes)? Simple dude, I don’t pay for the shit!

It’s all free. Apparently, it makes people feel very classy to give out cheap white wine for which they’ve paid quite a few dollars. Well…he who has his bread buttered by fools shall not complain about the fools! I’m all for helping people feel classy these days…it keeps the wine coming!