and you all wonder why i'm an Engineer-groupie...

note: i'm rewriting "daddy's girl, redux". version two will be up shortly. kisskiss, a n n a

p.s. until then, amuse yourself with the following rant. for those of you who love me all acidic, enjoy. for those of you who whine that i demean myself when i'm livid, and that i should only write hazy, soft-focus posts, please be tolerant. the rowdy soccer hooligans who became fans after i spanked a small-willy'd indian boy in a bottom-of-the-line mitsubishi eclipse need love, too. ;)

FROM : mjsandiego2002@yaherb.com
TO : Your profile: "dime"
SUBJECT : hey
ATTACHED PHOTO: Yes!

we both had to laugh at your profile..im attaching my friends pic who lives in no cal, who is christian and 29, models for CK there and is a doctor, not to be rude , but he thought you just looked average. He knows.
good luck :)

neal

You can view their profile at:
http://www.IndianDating.com/profiles/view_profile.cfm?i=&pid=243627

dear dr. prevaricator,

wow, you model AND you doctor. my knickers are wet already. :p

i'm amazed at how ubiquitous models are amongst us brown folk. they're almost as often encountered as...doctors. to be honest, if you were smiling and i passed you on a street, i might have noticed you. but i would've done so b/c of a smile, not b/c of any other reason. i don't know if you're as great as you think or have been told, and frankly, i don't care. pictures don't tell me a damned thing. my last two boyfriends were beautiful and they photograph horribly. meanwhile, i look good in 98% of pictures that i'm in-- all that means is, i'm photogenic. that's not the same as being gorgeous.

you have similar attributes that make you photogenic. big fucking deal. no, i don't need "luck" with THIS one.

unlike other dumb bitches, i don't melt when i hear the "M" word, unless that word is MIT. i don't give a SHIT about doctors, unless, like Shalu and Rajni, they are doing it for the right fucking reasons. some of the status-whores whom i grew up with, who paid their way in to foreign medical schools, are no smarter than the nurse who will invariably save their ass when they fuck up and invite a malpractice suit. one of the greatest things my parents did was debunk the doctor myth for both of us. "don't buy in to how these people think, no one is better than someone else b/c of their job. you can probably do more to change the world if you are NOT a doctor" daddy said. "indians value all the wrong things".

daddy, as always, was right.

so "dr. model". you have worked for "CK". wow. in that BASTION for fashion, northern california, no less. hold on, i need a moment...it's getting hot in herre.

(does advil work on that pain you get, if you roll your eyes too violently? anyone? anyone? is there a "doctor" in the blogosphere? buehler??)

listen, cocky mcCocky. when you strut your shit for helmut lang or roberto cavalli, i will give you the props you *think* you deserve. you think you're oleksy? pah. if you're the kind of person who gets by on the grace that's your face, get your prescription for prozac filled NOW (oooh, you're a doctor! you can write it YOURSELF!!!) b/c you won't be pretty forever. if your face goes through a windshield or your hair falls out b/c of cancer, you will be nothing, b/c you've invested so much in what's fleeting.

how do i know? i read all that i needed to know, thank you. i "know" your kind. and you are far from pretty.

if either of those two horrific things happens to me, nothing will change. i'm the same shunned little girl that quacked awkwardly until i mysteriously swanned-out at 18. the "beauty" of that turn of events is, my insides have never changed. that's why i'm not worried about cancer or crashing cars.

i'm so glad that i can rely on just being me. what a blessed epiphany that is, at this precious moment. i don't have a job, i don't have anything right now, and i'm all good, motherfucker. my friends love me, my family treasures me and my ex-bfs hold no ill will my way. i am beyond lucky. and i'm not a model. or a doctor. my self-worth isn't determined by what i do or where i've worked. i think i might just have substance. if you are no longer a model, and you for some reason can't practice medicine, who are you?

when my tombstone is engraved, they can carve "She was loved". i'd much prefer that to "He was a CK model...and doctor!", b/c i'm all about what can't be seen or touched.

that's why i don't date "pretty" boys. i put that word in quotes b/c i'm actually, pacifically referring to boys who consider THEMSELVES pretty. been there, almost did that. any metrosexual who takes longer to get ready than ME has got to GO. i briefly dated an Armani model who, surprise surprise, was on his way to being a cardiothoracic surgeon. fine. he was striking and smart. unfortunately for all of us, he was explicitly aware of all this.

he only visited me once, b/c it wasn't feasible to hop back and forth between london (where he lived) and california.

there are things you only learn about a person, in person. things that cannot be observed over crackle-y international phone lines. things which must be seen in order to be believed. after a nap and shower, "model surgeon" was getting ready for a night out that included dinner at my favourite restaurant. i primped in my housemate's room, so that he could do his thing. and what...a...thing. (oh, worry not minnows...i'lll get to his...thing).

i'm not known for getting ready efficiently, so i was surprised when i walked in to the living room...to an empty couch. i had been so worried that this boy would be pacing, staring at his watch, wondering where the hell i was...well, all that worry was for naught.

suddenly i was seized with a frightening thought...what if something was wrong? i dropped my purse and ran for my room.

knock knock knock.

silence.

"dr. model...is everything okay?"

i was about to knock again when i heard a short, muffled sort of "yeah". okayyyyy. i was too suspicious to relax at this point, so i lied.

"i'm so sorry, could i run in for two seconds and grab something? if not, that's okay."

the door swung open.

i was flabbergasted.

he was nonchalant.

i tried not to stare.

he kept doing...what he was...doing.

all right, enough suspense.

he was STRAIGHTENING his HAIR. i'm talking about serum, round brush and FLAT IRON. bloody hell, even *i* don't preen that fucking much, and i'm an ex-pageant refugee!

"i'm almost done," he mumbled apologetically. "humidity...what can you do?"

fuck me, i would've thought he was gayer than a room full of liza-, barbara- and judy-impersonators, except...he wasn't. he was just supremely vain. and very fond of noticing his reflection in shiny surfaces (the fork at dinner, the wine glass, the tip of my unCHANEL'd nose. whatever.) london's finest was consumed with how WE looked together, whether people noticed us, if we were a cute enough couple. after he left, part of me felt like he expected a thank you note from my stock of Crane, for being allowed to bask in his presence. i was constantly made aware of how fortunate i was. wow.

all of this would've been enough. but this is me we were discussing, so obviously here is not where THIS story ends.

the last of the famous, international playboys had more in store to surprise anna with...when he was back home in new york, i called him to say "welcome home"...and i was thrilled when a different voice answered his mobile. "JAY!" i squealed, b/c i was fond of his best friend from glasgow. Jay sounded...interesting but i just chalked it up to jet lag.

"what have you guys been up to??? did he show you new york?"

"yeah..."

"tell me all about it!"

"well...(deep breath). um, his GIRLFRIEND took us to a great club."

"i beg your pardon?"

"yeah. you heard me."

"jay...?"

i heard an even greater sigh.

he whispered furtively and furiously in to the mic. "i can't take this. i can't do this to you. you're the sweetest girl, and you deserve more than this. i know he's my best friend but...my conscience has been bugging me for the last few months. her name is R___. she just graduated from MIT."

"oh my God." my head felt so light, i could've swore that my ponytail was getting longer as it slid down my back. i stopped pacing and crawled in to my legendary bed, swathed with 50 yards of bridal veil, all of which was suspended from a canopy i made myself one day, when i was bored. (if you're impressed, cease and desist. after that spurt of decorating genius, i got lazy and bought the tassels that held all those veiled curtains open...b/c martha stewart i ain't.) my eyes closed, and i curled up, not wanting to hear any more brogue. alas, jay wasn't done with me yet.

"please don't feel bad anneke...he really does like you, a lot. he even has your picture next to his bed..."

"really? is it next to hers?"

"actually...yeah."

"fucking hell."

"he prints out your emails...he let me read some of them. i can see why he saves them, they're lovely. i promise you he's infatuated with you."

"then?"

"it's just that...he's still in love with her."

"so he just expects that this will all end in one happy-assed menage a chump?"

"well, usually..."

"USUALLY???"

"yeah..."

"he's done this BEFORE??"

"um...most girls are okay with it...i mean...he gets away with it...b/c..."

"b/c he walked down a runway once? b/c he might be a surgeon one day? b/c he feels...ENTITLED?"

"look, i feel badly...i know this is awful, but please try and..."

"he LIED to me."

"he didn't lie about how he felt. he's genuinely torn!"

"oh, that makes it all fucking okay."

+++++++

doctors who model. models who doctor. i'm not going to continue the above story b/c some of you think i'm a terrible writer these days, that i am blocked and in need of a vacation apparently...i don't believe in torturing my loyal followers, so i WILL tell you that today, the philanderer is neither doctor nor model. and yes, he got his. not that i had anything to do with it.

so, brown dating retards. take your hubris and fucking BUGGER yourselves with it.

i may indeed be average-looking (since you both "know" what you're talking about) but the most important part of me is extraordinary. it's where my words commence, it's where the kisses that i rain down on my Godson's beaming face emanate from, it's where blood moves when i'm interval training. but you're the sort of boys who know nothing about such squishy red muscles. so i don't expect you to understand or care.

now go and delude some other 23 year old who will learn her lesson and then write about your implicit shittiness in six years. my vituperative work here is done.

+++++++

oh, and this is the pathetic santorum who helped out his bitch-ass friend above, by playing cyrano. apparently, a doctor who models on the side can't afford his own premium membership to brown dating, so he had to borrow one from the creature below.

p.s. nice "eyes"...hater.

Comments

[Shay]

hahah.. Hi Anna,
That guy didn't think you look average. That was just his way of pretending he is accostumed to picking up super-models. You read him and his friend correctly.

Which makes me wonder....why do you expose yourself to thousands of guys like this? Indian Dating, Friendster, Fotolog, etc. I'm sure you meet hundreds of highly qualified candidates in your day-to-day life. Are you using the virtual men for humor in your diary? Or are you really interested in meeting someone special through the hodge-podge of electronic means?

I'm not trying to be critical. I'm just curious!

Beijos.

[FluidCEO]

Dear Anna

Excuse my absence from this blog, but I feel a few words are needed.

Doctor models. Last of the international playboys (I can already hear Morrissey in the background, can't you ;) ). I deal with these egocentric slabs of concrete often in the big city, as if gravity is suppose to tilt in their massive egos. Obviously their mothers didn't teach them shit. My mother, a fashion designer, taught me that a girl's true love is the greatest gift she can give. She never really mentioned what the greatest gift a guy can give, but I assure you it is not a piece of paper from Harvard Medical. Someday us 'boyz' will figure this out. Until then, browndating is full of pitfalls and disasters before finding 'the one.'

Some of the best times in my relationship life occurred when I was a broke ass mechanic and my girlfriend was a broke ass waitress. We had what counted, each other.

I propose dearest anna you write a book, or start a service to aid in the online dating process. Currently, online services to polish up profiles and weed through the mundane profiles to find the perfect match can run up to $149 a session. Considering mr eyes there has a generic looking profile some might be inclined to write him, and won't find out until later he is a gravity well himself. What are we spaceships happily going about our online adventures suppose to do with such deep black holes sucking away at everything in "site?" We need a guidance system.

But I write all this to tell you that good Indian boyz exist that understand a girl's love is so strong yet so fragile; love is not a toy, it is not to be played with and no amount of materialistic pursuations can own love. Keep on surfing, He's out there, maybe closer than you think.

Thanks for the rant. Made my day to see beautiful indian girls are not all swooned my "CK MD" as their last initials.

FluidCEO

[The Bee]

Anneke,

Me - an ardent 'annaholic'
You - my blog goddess
Me - adores your writing persona
You - just too much goodness all in one place.
Me - always upto a lil sumpin' sumpin' from the anna world.
You - are the Queen of satire, the funniest and most amazing comic i've come across.
Me - has brazen disregard for civic duty when it's time for my daily dose of 'anna'!
You - are my twin except you possess a shit load of beauty and talent - you may possibly be an angel on earth.
Me - DesiMofo(ette) like you!
You -can cream some serious ass yo!!
Me...can go on and on bout my annaholism...but will leave em' haters axin' fo more!!!

Rock on soldier...

[dev]

Anna,

Well done (as always). I couldn't ever stand the whole "ignore" instead of "let me give them a piece of my eff'n mind".

I wanted to tell you that I found their comments cheap and utterly ludicrous. Scary how many brainless doctors attend to the needs of our population. Insecure SOB's...

You are fantastically gorgeous--you don't need me to tell you that or them to tell you otherwise because that comes through in every element of you.

Last but not least, the HR woman at NM told me that it was my credit that prevented me from the second interview, but honestly it's OK. I moped for a few hours but bounced back quickly because everything does happen for a reason.

Take care,
Dev

[Penny Lane]

Anna, I think you've misdirected your rant here. Mr. Doctor Model isn't the one to attack - it's his friend. DM may have remarked on your exterior appearance (which he has every right to do), but it's the blowhard friend who unnecessarily relayed it to you, and yet you instead unfairly malign the one who did you no harm.

[curious jagdish]

Is that a dude in the above picture, or a desi version of k.d. lang?

[engineer slut]

dear penny,

as an unintended veteran of brown dating dot com (my original profile was put up in 2002), i know how these things generally work; you corral someone w/a deluxe membership b/c that's the only way you're allowed to make contact. i'm fairly sure that blowhard saw me, emailed me to asstard and then both talked smack via whatever medium they prefer. that's why i'm almost certain that asstard was complicit in all this drama.

true, the blowhard is a jackass. but my point is, i don't think he was just playing matchmaker to his innocent, unaware friend.

thanks for commenting, i respect your pov.

i stand by the rant. MD laughed at my rant/profile and said that i was "average" when he's no one to kvetch (which i have every right to do). truthfully, it's the insult to my profile that irks me more than his subjective view of something i could frankly give a flying fuck about...

if a tree falls in a forest, and no one hears it...then? so, if a snide comment is made and they make sure i hear it...ah, where am i going w/this... ;)

this is why i was so happy in the republican party. i was allowed to be an unreasonable bitch w/o having to justify it, ever. ;)

[saphia]

hey now, let's not insult k.d. that way...

[A N N A]

"Which makes me wonder....why do you expose yourself to thousands of guys like this? Indian Dating, Friendster, Fotolog, etc. I'm sure you meet hundreds of highly qualified candidates in your day-to-day life. Are you using the virtual men for humor in your diary? Or are you really interested in meeting someone special through the hodge-podge of electronic means?

I'm not trying to be critical. I'm just curious!"

dear shay,

so much to tell you, as i attempt to answer your question!

i'm not going to attack them in order. that would be predictable and boring. ;) now, do i meet 100s of suitable boys during my daily escapades? HA. (read: no.)

in the post before this, "daddy's girl- redux", i tried to shed light on some of the factors that motivate all this drama...i love being indian, i love indian boys (i've got a thing for dark hair/eyes/skin) and some day i want to have bubbly brown babies bouncing on brown knees. i don't live near any malayalees (that's what i am-- we're from southwestern india) at the moment. when i did live near them, in NY and DC, i barely fared better. Indian Dating is where a lot of people in my situation go in order to shut our pesky relatives up, b/c it allows us to truthfully proclaim, "i'm looking!" when we haven't logged on in six months.

as for fotolog and friendster, i'm on both of those for FUN.

fotolog gives me an excuse to abuse the shit out of my minolta, and it keeps my little sister current on what's going on w/our fam, b/c she can't be fucked to read either blog. she's too busy defending my critic's freedom to hate on me via her commitment to the US Air Force. friendster...now THAT was something i resisted for several months...but, i don't regret dry-humping that trend, b/c i met some AMAZING people via that bizarre little timesuck. one of them, Shmoopie, was on the last flog i posted. :)

if i met someone through any of the aforementioned methods, i'd be open to whatever happens. i could care less how i find my baby daddy. when it's time for him to invest in german stock, he'll show up, i'm sure of it. until then, i'm having a blast. and yes, the second profile on brown dating dot com ("dime") is pure comic relief. i put it up one day when i was bored, at my last job. the hate mail was quite a distraction and you are right, it turned in to a wondeful catalyst for my writing, as i was inspired time and again to spew vituperatively, thanks to one of these moronic retards. that's why it's still up--just think, what would my blogs be without it? ;)

beijos right back mi amor,

Anna :)

[Prashant P Kothari]

That's telling them Anna. I grew up in Chennai (Madras) and at least among my friends (debating/ quizzing/ theater/ writing crowd), in high school/ college, medicine was NOT the ultimate accomplishment -- whether in terms of smarts or prestige. It was more the IITs/ the IIMs and some of the liberal arts colleges.

Quite a revelation when I came to the US and discovered the amt of bhaav desi doctors get -- and the consequent overdose of self-love (as in the jerk above).

Way to go, Anna. It's time these doctors get in line to meet the princess, like everyone else ;-)

[joel]

props for the cyranno reference

[Sin]

Darling. I modelled for Armani, Prada and Gucci, and quite frankly, who GIVES A SHIT?

No one's ever fallen for a lovely pair of kidneys, but it's the inside that matters, not the outside.

Dicks? Go away. Stop wasting your time.

[square peg]

Ha! I wasn't a reader when you posted this but I wish I would have caught it the first time around.

How motherfucking disgusting. And he probably went to some shit-ass school in the Caribbean or the Netherlands. I totally recognize that attitude of those guys that pay their way in to med school elsewhere then come back to the States (where it takes them 2-3 YEARS to study for the Boards, hello, those of us at accredited schools studied for 3 weeks) and think they're just THE SHIT because they're DOCTORS. Fucktards.

Ugh. Sorry, I just hate those insincere, rich, arrogant dumbasses who have to go to the Caribbean because they're lazy bastards who can't pull their shit together here and only want to be docs because they think it'll help them get laid. They give all the legitimate desi medical students a bad name.

[Jeet]

HAHA...nice rant
mcCocky...i like the mcdreamy refrence( if thats what it is)

[Ritam]

The "pathetic santorum" himself looks pretty average if you ask me. His friend looks like he's 5'1" on a good day. Sorry, its just mho.

[Ahriman]

Excuse me, but this seemed a rather long and emotional response even for a rant. Seemed like they found you amusing and wrote to you first, which makes it seem like that at least one of them likes you. Why the vitriol? Because they called you *average*. Hah. You admit you are. So they admit it too. But they still want to recommend you. Get over yourself.

[Suitable Despot]

Since when are "rants" succinct and tranquil? Get over myself? YOU get over me. I'm not the one who felt the need to post a nonsensical comment on a stranger's site. You, like the morons who inspired this post, were so bothered by me you had to make the effort to contact me to tell me how lame I was. Indifference hurts most, my smelly friend.

The vitriol:

a) is a few years old by now. Check the dates, son. You're late to the party, we're out of juice.

b) was about a bit more than a perceived "diss". In fact, it was about the ridiculous premium placed on hooking up with a Doctor if you are desi. Feel free to re-read if that didn't shine through the first time.

[Desi Hottie]

I don't find either of these guys to be all that uniquely handsome. Especially the one with the green eyes, he looks corny as hell.

Ew.