Rocket Sauce

There’s a new buzzword going around these parts these days. And they spake “Metrosexual” and it was good. Not good!! I’ve known of only two types of sexual orientations for as long as I can remember. Now it seems they’ve discovered a third. Maybe a fourth even – Retrosexual! At this rate coming out of the closet may have to take on more literal connotations.
Apparently, to be “Metro” you must fulfill 2 requirements:
1. Be Heterosexual
2. Wear Pink
And voila, you’re now hip, trendy and Metrosexual! (When I say Metrosexual, imagine a big thundering voice saying “Metrosexual”. It’s a cool effect.)

Pink socks – Metrosexual, pink shirt – Metrosexual, pink tie – Metrosexual, pink jacket – Wedding Singer. Ok except for the last one, pink has become the domain of girly girls and metro-males. Hmm… methinks metrosexual may be more of a euphemism! What is the deal with this labeling business? I don’t know if this is some globe-sweeping phenomenon but it seems more like a catchword the media cretins here have picked up off the airwaves and now they’re throwing it all over the place like there’s no tomorrow. Stupid fuckers. I like pink shirts. I think they’re really dressy and when worn with the right trousers make great event wear. But if I have to listen to some asshole telling me that pink is the new red and I’m really with it, then I’d rather stick with the blues, browns and anything-but-pinks.
I really don’t know why this label had to be introduced. Apparently metrosexuals are heterosexuals with a touch of the homo. What the fuck?? Kiss my ass you defining bastards. This area gets complicated enough as it is without idiots polluting it.
Actually I’ve always fancied myself as quite a liberal minded chap and this hetero/homo deal never really bothered me. I felt that people were unnecessarily uneasy about the situation. That was until I came face to face with the reality of homosexuality. It’s strange how detached you can be from an issue until it hits you in the face and you’re forced to deal with it. So when so-and-so decided to come out of the closet I started to feel the uneasiness that I was previously skeptical of. I don’t know. It’s not as though I wanted to feel that way but suddenly he was not so-and-so anymore. Turns out I’m not as open minded as I thought I was or want to be. I still have to learn to be less of a bigot.


Here’s a slightly off one.
Of all the ways of dying that I can imagine, the scariest and simultaneously the most peaceful that I can think of is falling down. Way down. My terrace is just four floors up, but I still go up there and think about jumping down. I’m not suicidal just dreamy. Altophobic that I am, I still fantasize about flying. Not in a plane. Sometimes I think the only reason I want to fly is just so I can plummet.
At no other time will you have as much control over the moment of your own death. Drowning is accompanied by the panic of not being able to breathe. Being shot doesn’t guarantee instant death. Putting the gun against your head only comes with the anguish of having to pull the trigger yourself. Stepping into heavy traffic gets you smashed to a pulp but still no guarantee of death. Now you jump off a high rise. All this may sound really cowardly, but that’s not the point right now.
The instant after you step off has got to be, ironically, the most insanely peaceful moment that mortal life can ever offer. Once you take the plunge, there’s no going back and the pavement rushes in to greet your head. Every single care that you’ve ever had vanishes immediately and nothing matters anymore. If you close your eyes, you could be flying. Save for the fact that you left your stomach a few storeys above you, you might as well be a bird. Unless you’re some kind of monk, your mind could possibly never be clearer than this moment.
Of course this is all speculation. And speculation that I’ll never put to the test. But it’s nice to know or at least think I know, that there is an ultimate peace… but it comes at the ultimate price.
I just want to let it be known right away that in no way do I condone suicide attempts, leaping off buildings or any other structures exceeding 10 ft. in height. So kids, don’t look for Nirvana at the tip top of buildings, I don’t know that it’s there.


Ace of Base – Cruel Summer