Wax On, Wax Off

Well hello there, folks! It's been a minute.

I spent the past two weeks at home doing the home things and it was awesome. I'm currently sitting in bed, trying to decide what's worse, waxing on... or waxing off....

I left here EARLY, believe it or not. I was sitting in a meeting Thursday afternoon when the bossman mentioned that he usually flies out early FRIDAY morning, as opposed to Saturday morning. Which got me thinking.... did that ticket say 8 or 9? So during the meeting, I look up the email I received with the flight information on it and ask myself... What's today? Holy crap! Apparently, I can't read time vs date and realize I leave Mumbai in about 8 hours! Yay and holy shit all at the same time! I haven't packed jack and I'm so anxious to leave, I KNOW I'm going to forget something. I rush to my room and pack the entire thing in about 45 minutes while drinking the bottle of vodka I had bought the weekend before. Not too shabby, but too small of a bottle. Dug into the bottle of whiskey and realized why that shit was so cheap. Tasted like dirty tea water. Had A glass and gave the rest to J Buck as a gift.

The flight to Frankfort was non-existent. Slept the ENTIRE way. Even had a middle seat but didn't care much because the only time I got up was to gather my things and head to the terminal. Got the the Lounge and noticed something. What the eff was that awful smell??? And then I realized.... that awful smell was coming from me. I smelt like I had run a 5k in my button up, swam in the Trinity River, and then ate dirty towels. I wouldn't even sit next to me if I had to. Thank the Lord someone advised me to put a shirt in my carry-on that I DIDN'T take out in India as a precaution for such an occasion. Changed into a t-shirt that was a tad too small but DIDN'T care because it smelled like detergent rather than lake water.

Got home at 2:30pm and looked like poop. My long ass hair was all curled up like a baby turd, my pants were a wrinkled mess, my eyes looked like I hadn't slept in 6 weeks (probably cause I HADN'T) but the grin on my face took the place off all of that. Spent the night with B and Nathan and Travis and Amanda, Sherlocks style. Already....

Saturday was spent at a bday party for the famous Christy Beaver a.k.a Coco on the Radio. Had a blast and WAY too much to drink. Ended the night with a Christy/Roger emotional talk as always. So awesome.

Most of the rest of the week was spent moving into, what I'm told, is an adult apartment. Bigger, more expensive, and WAY nicer than any of my others. I actually have adult art on the wall (I mean pictures, not naked people) and matching furniture and shit. It's wild. I DO, however, have my music room that looks tight as hell. All it needs now are instruments. (Hint hint... bday coming soon. Just saying).

Spent the first part of the week moving me in and the rest moving Bryan in. Which made for an AWESOME week of workout but still look an Ethiopian after a bowl of rice. Stupid stomach issues....

Went to Austin the following weekend to celebrate my boy's bday with Andrew. Andrew and I hadn't done that in so long, it was pretty bad ass to catch up and actually talk on the way there. Stopped for some beef jerky and got pretty effing hammered while we were down there. Started early, ended late, and that's all that mattered. I did drink enough to eat pizza that night. And I'm STILL paying for it now. No lie. This ulcerative proctitis ain't no joke. Good times either way. The way back was a lot quieter than the way down there. Could have been because of Mr Hangover, but hey... whatever. Good times.

Had a nice break from the Indian life. Got to eat some stuff I know what it consists of, got to hang out with some awesome people, sing some karaoke, drive my car, and hang out with some awesome people. Did I say that already?

Arrived back in Mumbai early Monday morning. Slept just a tad and headed to the new work schedule: 2pm to 12am. Eeek... less dranking time for THIS nigga. That's ok. May be good for me. Or I could get really pissed at people and cut someone.

Eh. We'll see.

To get a little serious on that ass....

I've been thinking lately about how stupid I can be. One of those, I know what I'm doing wrong and I keep doing it. Why? Because it feels good for about 10 minutes and then I feel like running into a patch of cacti naked with a boner. Which brings the question: wax on? Or wax off?

Waxing on:

Doing what I've been preaching for the past almost 10 years of my life - do whatever makes you happy because no one else will. Only YOU know what it is that makes you happy; that makes you smile; that makes you wanna sing show tunes in the privacy of your own room. So I'd say do it! Do whatever peels your potato; whatever floats your turd; whatever yanks your chain; whatever fries your bologna. Because ultimately, we don't have a lot of time here and you may as well be smiling while you're here. The only problem with that is, when you do whatever makes YOU happy, you have to realize the consequences. Whatever makes YOU happy doesn't always make other people happy. It doesn't always coincide with other people's feelings or emotions. And that can sometime be dangerous and hurtful and malicious. And who wants that kind of karma? It's like eating a bowl of beans before a road trip: sure it is delicious and filling but what comes next? You're in a car with 4 people and no one can breathe for 3 hours because SOMEONE had to eat the musical fruit. Not fair. But so what? You had fun...

So what next? Wax off....

Do what makes you happy for 10 minutes? Or realize that the 10 minutes of happiness you're feeling now doesn't even COMPARE to the days of anger and frustration you'll feel afterward? Realizing that your actions now will only be reflected in the things that are to come later - THAT'S the ticket. Knowing that whatever you decide to do now may suck so bad, it feels like eating pizza with an intestinal problem (HELLO!), but when its over, you still feel good enough to keep on trucking. And maybe... just maybe... the next time it comes around, you'll be just a little bit stronger to move on. Because you know what, that long lasting, tastes so good you'll slap your mama, blissful, beautiful peace you feel when you DON'T do it anymore is WAY better than those 10 minutes. Those 10 minutes are like a fat girl eating a Mini M&M-you know a lot more would be great, but its going to take a LOT of Minis to equal the feeling you feel when you can walk up on a curb and not start sweating. You know what I'm saying?

Wax on all you want to, baby... but waxing off? That's for me, nigga.

Until next time....

I Still Hate Kids

Oh man. Last weekend here before I get to home. And what a good one.

Friday after work, we went to Hard Rock Cafe - Mumbai, by way of TGIFridays. Ha. Margarita after margarita, joke after joke, chicken wing after chicken wing, it was pretty fun. By the time we got to Hard Rock, I was just a little bit tipsy. So we did it up right and ordered a Jack and seven and a shot of some sort. Tasted like I Vicks, but hey - I had a cold anyway. The music was FANTASTIC and the entertainment wasn't far behind. At one point, they gathered every employee in the place - bartenders, waiters, chefs, and door guys - and had them get up on the wall and do the YMCA. Now... I know this isn't America, but it makes me wonder if they really think we still do that there. The last time I've seen anyone do the YMCA, I was hiding a boner in my Jordache jeans, watching my fellow junior high students dance around. (Whom am I kidding - I had to look up how to even spell Jordache. My shit was cheaper than... well, a pair of Jordache jeans in 2011) When we left there, the lot of us, except for our driver, was pretty effing hammered. So much so that a certain accompanying party, who shall remain nameless, unprofessionally got off on the wrong floor. But that's neither here nor there...

Saturday, J Buck and I went back to R City Mall where I continued to search for shoes that met my needs. If you know me, I'm a ridiculously picky person - a lot of the times, to my own demise. Buying shoes just adds to this. I have to have a certain style, shape, color, and design. And if I can't find it, I'll continue to wear the same shoes I've been wearing for the past 19 years. Which, if you've seen my shoes now, you know I'm not kidding. The ones I wear daily now I didn't even buy - I got them from Marco and I effing love them. I have been eyeing them since HE bought them so when he asked if I wanted them, I pretty much yanked them out of his hand and put them on immediately. It didn't help that when I asked about some shoes that I almost wanted, the sales guy had no idea what the heck I was asking. I asked if they had these certain shoes in any other color, he said, "just black". And I don't want black shoes because I already HAVE black shoes. I wanted some other color. So I put them back. And he says, "How about these?". I said, "No, I don't want black". And he picks up another pair and says, "maybe these?" I said, "No, I don't really want black". After he picked up every black pair of shoes on the wall, I ended up just walking away before I slapped him with the pair of black shoes I WAS ALREADY WEARING. Anyway, I ended up buying more socks and no shoes. Eh.
I also bought wall art for my soon to be music room in my new apartment. It's going to be effing bad ass. Just wish they weren't so freaking expensive. I don't like spending money on crap like that. AND, as before, if you've seen my crappy furniture, you know it's true. Either hand-me-down or bought cheaply, I don't spend money on material goods. I spend my money on things that mean something. Like alcohol. Speaking of, I bought a bottle of vodka called White Mischief. Ha. Awesome.
Hey. It makes memories. Don't judge me.
We went to eat at the Rainforest again - where I realized that the waitstaff does NOT speak English. Again, they thought I spoke Hindi and I ended up just getting whatever drink they THOUGHT I wanted instead of what I ordered. I'm not sure if I've EVER gotten anything I've ordered since I've been here. I just end up agreeing to whatever they want to give me and roll with it. Which reminds me... I'm hungry....

Sunday, we got pretty bored so we went to hang out at Chili's. Where I have come to realize that I still hate kids.
First of all, the waiter comes up and says, "Hi, mine name is Chris".
Naw, nigga. It's not. I promise.
As we were sitting there enjoying another drink that didn't satisfy my needs, they started setting up for a party. With balloons. Which meant, little rugrats were about to invade the one place I could feel like I was at home. As the small little shits started piling it, the balloons started bursting. Probably by mistake at first, but damnit... that mess was on purpose towards the end. Now, you can't be sending me to a foreign country, that JUST had a terrorist attack a couple of months before, pop some motherf'ing balloons behind me, and not expect me to freak out a little bit. And to add to it, it was by little ankle biting, curtain climbers that kept running around the restaurant like they were at grandma's house. I swear I was about to trip one of them.
Disclaimer: if you are reading this and you have kids, let me clarify. I like my friend's kids. One, because they are my friend's kids. Two, because I can go home. And three, because I can go home. They're usually cute - I don't hang out with ugly people - and well behaved. But once I get around some little fools that ain't got no manners, I want to slap their mamas.
Also at this Chili's, I notice a table across from us that has sent their food back 3 times. All because the bitch was complaining about EVERYTHING and the dude had to deal with it. I could tell that he had a problem with her complaining as well because they started arguing once "Chris" left. To the point where after they finally got something sufficient enough to eat, she sat there pouting while he ate it. This is why I hate bitches. I wanted to shake her until her stupid frown fell off and I could step on it. Felt sorry for the guy. But... he's still with her so. Whateva, nigga.

Today is the 4th of July. And if you're wondering, no. There was no fireworks show here in Mumbai. Unless you count the fire that started from my air conditioner. Burn marks on the wall and all. Hole in the curtains. Awesome. All I have to be thankful for is the power probably went out and it stopped the fire. Ha. Find that silver lining somewhere.

I'll be home on Saturday!! Celebrating Christy's bday in Ft Worth Saturday night and having a typical Sunday with B before I move into my new apt on Monday and Tuesday. I am retarded excited about all of that. I'm gonna be one hungry, smelly, smiling son of a bitch around 3pm on Saturday. HOLLA!!

Until next time....

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

Went down to dinner tonight by myself to enjoy some delicious (or lack there of) dinner food.
Tonight was apparently bar food night. They had wings, fish sticks, and a bunch of other shit I can't pronounce nor will I taste.

I started out with the cream of chicken soup - which was more like water with "chicken" pieces soup. It had an alright flavor, but should have been in cardboard box labeled "chicken stock" than in a bowl. Of COURSE, I had the chicken wings. Chicken wings are my favorite food in the world. If chicken wings approached me to do a commercial for them, I wouldn't even charge. "I'd do it for free, chicken!" (Thanks DC). Except... these chicken wings were Indian chicken wings and tasted like every other Indian dish I've eaten in the past 5 weeks. I had 2 and stopped. And a tear dropped my eye...
They also had fish sticks. Which, from what I remember as a kid, were a step above Fisherman's Best. Next to the fish sticks was something they called, "Fish Mexican". I was confused. I thought mexican fish WAS the fish sticks. "Fish Mexican"? They must have known I was eating there tonight. Awful sweet of them. It was pieces of "fish", wish tomato sauce and some peppers and such. Not bad, but I'm not sure what kind of "fish" it was. I think it was more, "hey there's some stuff at the bottom of the box of fish sticks so lets add something to it and call it mexican". Ain't that a...
Racists.
So there I was, enjoying my "delicious" dinner when some dude sits at the table next to me. He's obviously likes the Indian food a lot more than I do because dude was smacking away like he was 7 years old eating some Apple Jacks. Fool was smacking so hard, I thought he was doing the naughty under the table. I was afraid to look. Of course I did.
Wait.
I'll move one.

After finishing my one and only plate, I was sitting enjoying my beer and my burnt-to-a-crisp esophagus, when I noticed that each and every waiter on staff had one eyebrow. I wonder if that's a requirement on the application. Like, I'm pretty sure they found out how to get to Sesame Street, these Bert and Ernie looking motherf'ers. It was wild.

And then, someone's phone rang. And I'm not talking a regular cell phone ring, it was the EXACT ring from the T-Mobile commercial back in the day.
And then another. Same ring tone.
And then another. Same ring tone, EXCEPT the acoustic version. Apparently, VodafoneIndia doesn't allow ringtone downloads.

And if one more fool tries to speak Hindi to me, I'm going to speak pig latin back. Two can play that game. I would give anything for someone to try and speak spanish to me right now. That I can handle.

Now I'm back in my room, answering emails and browsing that Facebook mess. Geez, this place is boring. It's like watching Bob Ross paint happy trees, but less exciting. I'd rather be fishing... in the toilet. As a matter of fact....

Until next time...

Well That Was Different

Talk about a week!! Holy crap, that was different.
Work week was frustrating as HELL. Stuff with information, with people that I work with, with just being here for a full month now - I wanted to eat a packet of Pop Rocks and drink a Coke and hope the myth was true. Was looking FORWARD to the weekend and now that the weekend is over, for good reason.

Went to happy hour on Friday after work in Bandra - another suburb of Mumbai. The place was called Red Box and I'm not really sure why. It went from being a restaurant to being a night club. There was even a dj... if you could call him that. We watched him "work" the night - partly, because his equipment was next to the waiter station. He was like, "let me play this song and order you a mojito at the same time". Oh, but he played the part. No doubt. Dude was all douched out with his headphones on one ear and shiny shirt and WAY too loud jeans. But it was funny because every time a song would change, fool was talking to a waiter or eating something. Not sure which cd he downloaded his mixes from but they weren't bad... pretty sure I can get the cd myself, though.
Chilled there for awhile and took the LONG ride home. By the time we got here, everyone had sobered up and gotten real sleepy so it was an early night. Eh. It's Friday. Go figure.

Saturday, we went to the mall down the street from the office. Really nice mall. Except for the fact that each and every store was a mimic of North Park Mall. We went into several stores looking for clothes to buy. If you know me, I don't shop for clothes often at all. I'm still sporting shit I bought in high school - and that's real talk. The only time I go shopping for new clothes is either at Halloween when I'm buying my costume or when I have a date and want to look good. And the last time I had a date, I'm pretty sure Clinton was still in office. But that's neither here nor there...
Since I was in a new mall in a new city, I was looking to splurge and buy some new jeans or something. Looking more to fall into the Gap, and ended up falling into Jersey Shore. Couldn't buy JACK in this mall. Until I went to Planet M - a Traders Village version of Sam Goode. This fool went CRAZY in there. Bought 38 DVDs and a couple of cds. Even got to the point of buying Aladdin... yea... went there. Apparently, I was looking for a whole new world.
Felt bad about myself for not buying clothes so we went to Pepe Jeans and I grabbed two shirts right next to each other and a packet of socks and checked out. It wasn't until I got to dinner that I realized that one of the shirts I bought was sparkly. Pft. Great. Using it at a under shirt is going to be great.
There was another store there called Big Bizaar. Which is a smaller version of Big T Bizaar. This place had EVERYTHING. I could buy pasta, cotton swabs, a teddy bear, an iron, and a pair of shoes right next to some fresh fruits. Outside of Walmart, this place was the shit. Except when someone tried to speak Hindi to me. Go figure...
Then time for dinner. Went to Rainforest... with was ALMOST Rainforest Cafe, minus the little kids and the store at the front. Expensive as shit! But REALLY good times. And then the waiter tried to speak Hindi to me... After dinner is when shit got real. After 8 hours at this damn mall, we caught a rikshaw to the hotel. Which probably wasn't a good idea since we bought half the mall. Our combined weight with bags was around 830 lbs. Which meant the rikshaw was STRUGGLING to make it. We made that niggas Check Engine light come one. That's how we roll. Got back to the hotel and I had to head to the bar. Can't stop, won't stop. P Diddy ain't got Jack (Daniels) on me.

Sundays are usually uneventful 'round these parts. Except today, Mark wanted to go and buy a guitar so we went into town and tried to find one. The place was pretty cool, but on the way back, the car that we were rolling in broke down. I'm talking DIED. No power whatsoever. Had to push that hoe to the other side of the street. Almost died twice, but hey. Whatever. We tried to find a taxi to take us back but with 475 people trying to do the same, it wasn't so easy. I ended up chilling on the side of the road, holding the guitar, smoking a cigarette. It was effing awesome. Finally got ANOTHER rikshaw and piled three grown ass men in a 3 ft bench seat. Sweating like Aretha Franklin walking 10 feet. Sticky and smelling like four day old peanut butter and jelly, we went into a bar. That was WILD! It was in a basement and called the Enigma Lounge. DJ was AWESOME and the drinks were ok. And then the waiter spoke Hindi to me...

So now, after a LONG ride home, I'm sitting in bed about to pass out. Laundry is done, work in the morning, 2 weeks left of my original journey, and hoping to hear from my friend soon. It's been a hell of a week but loads of fun. And. Well. Different.

Until next time...

Free

I could masterbate on the streets here in India and not get judged. That's how free this place is. Count it.

I've come to realize that the difference between home and this place is that the people here are more "free" than any group of people I've ever seen. Even more free than the bitches I've seen walk into Mac's and walk out with someone. That's real talk.

The things I've seen here in the past three weeks is the most amazing things I've ever seen in my 30 years on the third rock from the sun. I'm not talking about how cheap things are - I've been living off of the same $200 I came with. I'm not talking about how the company paid for me to get here and live. I'm talking about how Americans can be the most arrogant, self-assured people on the planet.

Tell me that someone in Arlington can walk out the door and pee on the side of the road without judgement from people like me who see it and think they're dirty but no one else would. Tell me that someone in Texas can walk up and down the middle of the street and only get a honk from a moving car, making sure you don't walk in front of it and get hurt. Tell me someone in Dallas you can wear the same shirt, 35 days in a row, buttoned down to the third button, showing all sorts of smelly body hair and no one but ME will judge you on the smell of onions and corn chips when you walk in.

I took video of my way to work the other day finally.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=llFghj4jZIM

If you notice at the beginning, there is a dude in white, relieving himself on the side of the road. it is 8 in the morning, folks. Eight. Which either means he is a G and has a penis the size of a ficus tree or he doesn't care who's watching. That nigga is free. And letting it go freely. All out in the open like "the world is my urinal". That's what I'm talking about. I get nervous peeing at freaking Boomer Jacks in a trough! My only saving grace there is melting the ice. And this fool pulled over his rickshaw and let it all hang out and just went, man. If that ain't free, I'm not a mexican with bad credit.

We, as Americans, have lived in the microwave age for so long that we demand results right away. The people here are so un-time aware that I'm the only one in the room wearing a watch. And I bought this hoe from a fool on the side of the road who OBVIOUSLY didn't worry about time. He didn't worry about time so much that the second hand on my watch is slower than Tom Cruise realizing that he is a homosexual.

Rode down the street the other day and came upon a young man and his sister sitting on the side of the road. Something was odd about what they were doing so I just kept watching. As we came upon them in the wild driven hotel cap, I noticed that the little man was playing with his "little man" on the side of the road as the little girl watched.

Now. You can't tell me that if some little nigga was on the side of the road in Ft Worth, tugging at his Vienna sausage wouldn't get arrested for that mess. If I can't live in a world where some dude can't discover that touching his one-eyed pleasure snake makes him giggle, then I just don't want to live. Hell, his pecker with bigger than mine! Who knew.

Anywayz... with a "z".

I'm now at the hotel, drinking the $100 bottle of Jack with 7 Up. I would say "don't judge me", but I know better. Shit is free at the hotel!

Until next time...

India or bust

So this time last summer, I was sitting in a BADASS apartment in Denver, Co, wishing I was back home with every part of my being. I hated leaving home, even though I was only a 2 hour flight away. I wasn't that Denver was a bad city - it really was kind of fun. It was just that I wasn't at home hanging out with my friends.
Oh, how the times have changed. Today I'm sitting in an empty apartment in Powai, India - 8,829 miles away from home... and I'm ok. No, I'm not sleeping much. And to be honest, I'm even impressed with MYSELF on that one. It's not that I'm not trying - I really am lying in bed in the dark trying to sleep. It just ain't happening. But I've still doing work at the office, I'm still hanging out with my new bartender friend and still able to be up and answer emails/texts in the middle of the night slash middle of the day in Texas. Yup. I'm pretty bad ass.

Or stupid. Eh. That's neither here nor there.

Maybe it's because I've finally grown up a little. Maybe it's because I'm being forced to be here or be unemployed. Maybe it's because I like curry. (No. That's NOT it.) But I'm really not having a bad time here. I'm getting to teach some pretty cool people about the system I've been drowning in for the past 2 years. And I'm getting to experience an ENTIRELY different culture while getting paid for it. Can a brotha get an amen?? Well well. You KNOW a mexican ain't one to give up some free shit. I'm talkin' 'bout so cheap, we wouldn't spend a lovely evening.

I will say this: The weather here blows harder than Kim Kardashian at an NBA game. It's hot, humid, and hot, and sticky, and hot. My hair hates it. Just saying. I'm looking more and more like there are spiders having a meeting on my head. Whats worse is that I said I wouldn't get a hair cut until I get back home... in 4 weeks. It's only been 2 and I'm already looking like Wilmer Valderrama. We'll figure it out. I just hope my trainees don't think this is what I look like on a normal basis. Like, I walk in and they think I wake up in the morning and do this shit to my head on purpose. Like I went to the Einstein School of Hair.

Along with the weather being terrible, the traffic here is RIDICULOUS!! We are only about 15 min from the office and it took 2 effing hours to get home yesterday. At one point, we were sitting still for so long, everyone started getting out of their cars and walking. I thought I was in an REM video. I thought a nigga was about to get subtitles.

J Buck got here today. Which means one of two things: I'm either going to FINALLY go out on the town and see what kind of trouble I'm going to get into, or I'm gonna spend too much time with him and turn into a douche. Either way, it should be interesting. I'm really looking forward to hanging out with some of the people of India and seeing what professional level they're on. I'm sure I'm WAY more professional, but that's neither here nor there.

Faith is not knowing what's going to be, but knowing what's going to be will be ok. Write that shit down. Twice. Cause Jack Daniels is kicking in and I won't remember. But that's neither here nor there.

Until next time...

Oops. I'm Fat.

So just completed my first week in India. I smell like hell and my hair looks like shit and I'm not really having a bad time.
Training is going alright. I do realize that I could never be a teacher. Ever. In life. Some of these "grown ass adults" are acting like kids with ADHD at a light factory. I don't know if it's a language thing or a "I'm an idiot" thing. Either way, I hope they get this quick because I may have to break out a whip and treat them like Kunta Kinte. Your name ain't Toby, sir.
So apparently, the yearly monsoon is coming on Friday. And everyone thinks it's going to be beautiful. Now, I'm not sure, but I have never considered a effing hurricane "beautiful". Yea, rain is fun and all, but I'm not gonna get excited about a flood. Just saying. I'll just sit in my room and eat cookies and chips until it's over.
Damnit. I'm fat.

So the food in India sucks ass. I've never like Indian food and these fools just sent me to the one place that I can't eat jack shit. It's spicy and it all tastes the same - like spicy sweat. I've tried to find any kind of western food on the menu here at the hotel, but it STILL tastes like feet. Had peanuts at the bar and they STILL tasted like old onions and corn chips. I would kill to eat a quarter pounder from McDonald's. I'd even settle for a Taco Bell hard taco. And that ain't even beef!
Fat.

Went to Chili's for happy hour yesterday. Their happy hour consists of a buy-one, get-one free... INCLUDING the Presidente margaritas. Holy India - that's the best idea I've ever heard. That's like having a party and charging at the door and people ACTUALLY paying to get in (yes, I remember you fuckers not paying but I'm over it so don't worry about it.... I'm fine.... just dandy.... I'll move on). The only thing they didn't have was food that I wanted to eat. Who would have thought that the Chili's in India wouldn't have good food. Especially since Chili's in America serves great food....
Yup. Still fat.

So as far as sleep goes, I've been missing it. Since I slept on Sunday when I got here, I've had all of 14 hours of sleep - until last night. Fourteen is 2 hours more than 12, in case you didn't know. That's less than the whole "Roots" series. And I say UNTIL last night. Last night, after Chili's, I proceeded to drink like I was Snoop Dogg and alcohol was marijuana. So when I got back to the hotel and found Scott sitting on the couch with 4 huge empty bottles of beer, I started tripping out. TV was on mute and he was on his laptop. Sat at talked to him for a bit, I think, and passed out. Woke up 12 hours later. Hell yes. Ambien what? Just get hammered. Works better and WAY more fun. Pretty sure I am on the right schedule now but it's still early so we'll see.
Fat.

So we went to Mumbai today to see the city. It was pretty cool! Saw the Gateway to India, saw the ocean, saw some dirty people who sold me a watch, and a monkey. Pretty eventful. Went to a bar after shopping and of COURSE, I am going to buy a tshirt. Asked the waiter for one and says, "Extra large?" A little offended, I said, no - a large will do. He replies, "are you sure?". Yes, motherfucker, I'm sure! Just bring me my damn shirt. Geez. Didn't have the black one I wanted so I purchased it's yellow brother. Got home and realized that not only should I have taken the extra large, I should NOT have complained about it on Facebook because now I look like an idiot. I look like the sun's retarded, misshapen star brother from the Butterfinger Galaxy.
Fat ass.

I honestly tried to go work out the other morning before work - since I wasn't sleeping anyway - but the gym didn't open until 6:30am and that wasn't enough time to do that, take a shower, and catch breakfast before work. It's the most important meal of the day. Don't judge me.
I'm fat.

I know I complain a lot about being here but I'm seriously not having a bad time. It's definitely a culture shock but I'm really having fun. The bartender at the hotel bar is pretty cool and we've become friends a little. Imagine that. I'll be home soon enough, though, and have a Champps burger, a Whataburger with no onions or tomatoes, a quarter pounder with cheese from McDonald's, a steak from ANYWHERE, and fries. At the same time. All of it.
Oops. I'm fat.

Until next time....