RELATIONSHIP COLUMNS

shashichief · 1st Moderator

RELATIONSHIP COLUMNS

shashichief · 1st Moderator

INSTANT REPLAY BELONGS IN MY HOME

Security cameras bother me. Everywhere I go, they're around,
recording my every movement, giving the security people a
good laugh at my expense.

At the ATM: "There he is again, the guy who keeps sticking
the wrong card into the machine. Doesn't he know he can't
withdraw money with his library card? What's he going to do
next -- borrow a bunch of books with his bank card?"

At the grocery store: "There he is again, the guy who can't
find anything. He's walking up and down the baking aisle,
expecting to find yeast there. What an idiot! Doesn't he
know that yeast is kept in the dairy section? Next thing you
know, he'll be searching for bread in the bakery."

At the record store: "There he is again, the guy who keeps
checking if the Bee Gees have released a new album. Doesn't
he know they belong in the '70s, just like those clothes
he's wearing?"

Even if the security people aren't laughing at me, I
still feel uneasy about the cameras -- and not just because
I want to maintain my privacy. I don't like the idea of
people watching me when I can't watch them. It doesn't
matter whether they're peeping into my bedroom or peeking
into my shopping cart, they ought not to do it without
paying me. Good entertainment is never free.

Despite my reservations, I'm beginning to see the benefits
of hidden cameras. In fact, I want to install them all over
my home. Not to protect me from outsiders, but to protect me
from insiders. By "insiders," I'm speaking mainly about my
wife. She sometimes misunderstands me.

Wife: "Hey Mr. Lazy Butt! Didn't you promise to wash my
car while I was cooking dinner?"

Me: "No, you must have heard wrong. I promised to watch your
car. I just checked and it's still out there. No one has
stolen it."

Wife: "Stop lying! The only thing you've watched today
is football. You haven't moved from the couch all day. The
refrigerator is getting more exercise than you."

Me: "You don't believe me? Well, it's a good thing I
installed those hidden cameras. I've always wanted to say
this: Let's go to the replay. Videotape doesn't lie. ...
There! See! I said 'watch,' not 'wash.' And look! I'm
getting up from the couch. I'm looking at your car. What did
I tell you?"

Wife: "I'm sorry, sweetheart. You're right and I'm wrong.
I promise never to bother you again during a football game.
Except to serve you dinner and give you back rubs. May I
return to the kitchen?"

Me: "OK, but you'd better keep your word! Don't make me go
to the replay again."

Instant replay works well in pro football, so why not in
everyday life? Whenever there's a disagreement, we can just
review the tape. It would keep many couples from fighting.

Wife: "Who finished the ice cream? Was it you again?"

Me: "No, sweetie. In case you didn't notice, I'm on a very
strict diet. And if you don't believe me, let's go to the
replay. ... Ah, just as I suspected. We had an intruder. And
he ate all our ice cream."

Wife: "Oh my gosh. That's scary. Especially since the
intruder looks so much like you."

shashichief · 1st Moderator

DIVORCING OURSELVES FROM DOWRY

When my wife and I tied the knot many years ago,
no one in our families mentioned dowry, though many people
in our native India still practice the traditional, but
illegal system of paying to have a daughter married. I
didn't demand any money, appliances or property, not because
I didn't need them, but because it was against my principles
to have my wife, as well as her parents, laugh hysterically
in my face. "You want dowry? You're not a doctor.
You should be giving US dowry!"

My parents-in-law did give me a gold bracelet, but that's
nothing compared to what some grooms get: loads of cash,
color TVs, computers, refrigerators, ovens, washers and
dryers. A few lucky men even get cars, scooters and
motorcycles. While American grooms find themselves humming
"Here comes the bride," Indian grooms find themselves
singing, "Here comes the ride."

Friend: "How was your wedding night?"

Groom: "It was wonderful, just wonderful -- until I ran out
of gas."

Friend: "Really? Was the bride disappointed?"

Groom: "I don't know. She didn't come along."

Yes, the dowry system can be a windfall for grooms and their
parents, but it has a dark side, sometimes resulting in
violence against brides whose families can't satisfy the
demands. Dowry was rightfully outlawed in 1961, though
someone apparently forgot to tell the masses, many of whom
practice dowry so openly and steadfastly that some tourists
are led to believe that it's REQUIRED BY LAW.

But recently, one brave bride decided to take a stand
against her greedy groom, setting an example that could
inspire many others to challenge the dowry system. Nisha
Sharma, 21, of Delhi, had her groom, Munish Dalal, hauled
off to jail after he and his parents allegedly demanded a
car and about $25,000 just before the wedding.

A car and $25,000? Dalal must have thought he was on an
American game show. "Munish Dalal, this is your lucky day.
To win a new car and $25,000, all you have to do is act like
a piece of money-grubbing scum."

Sharma has not only become a national icon, she has received
dozens of marriage offers from eligible men, many of whom
are willing to settle for "just the car." Actually, the men
don't want any dowry at all, don't want to share a room with
her former groom.

But Sharma, wisely, has decided not to get married for now,
but to complete her education. Marriage may be a great
institution, but it's a lot cheaper to get into Harvard. An
educated woman can support herself -- and look for a groom
who values her, not the big-screen TV.

"My message to all young girls, is to resist dowry demands,"
Sharma told UPI. She has already inspired at least two women
to walk out on their marriages and many more may follow. Who
knows, if this continues, the dowry system may crumble. And
Munish Dalal and his ilk will just have to find another way
to get a car, such as saying "I do" to a special person --
the loan officer at a bank.

shashichief · 1st Moderator

ADVERTISING CAN HELP YOU FIND A MATE

The other day, as I drove on the highway, a bumper sticker
on a sports car caught my eye. It read, "Honk if you want
me." I was about to honk, because if there's such a thing as
love at first sight, this was it. I wanted that good-looking
car.

But then I realized that the sticker was for the driver, not
the car. And I couldn't help feeling a little angry. Why
didn't I think of bumper stickers when I was single? Perhaps
I could have found a wife sooner, instead of waiting until I
was old enough to enjoy bingo.

All those years in college and I couldn't think of such a
simple way to find a mate. It's no wonder people say that
the American education system is flawed. Even in my
advertising course, the professor never said a word about
bumper stickers, at least not on the days I was awake.

For so many years, I wasted valuable space on my bumper. I
could have placed several stickers, side by side, with
messages such as:

---If you're cute, I'm available.

---If I'm cute, you're drunk. Please pull over.

---Honk if you want me and you're a female.

---Honk if you have a job and no diseases.

---Single man on board, needs someone to nag him.

---Add some spice to your life. Marry an Indian.

Of course, I shouldn't be too hard on myself. I did find my
lovely wife through an advertisement, a matrimonial ad on
the Internet. It cost a little more than a bumper sticker,
but who said good romance is cheap?

While it's too late for me to take advantage of bumper
stickers -- except for one that says, "If you need
directions, ask my wife!" - I'm encouraging all single
people to consider bumper stickers and other kinds of ads.
Remember: Advertising isn't just for beer companies and
politicians.

If you're reluctant to advertise, maybe that's because you
believe in destiny. You believe there's only one special
person for you and you'll eventually run into that person,
perhaps while visiting the grocery store, the post office or
the local prison. That's a nice thought, but what if that
special person happens to live in Burundi? And what if he or
she has no intention of visiting your town?

If you want to be more certain of finding your mate, you
need to take control of your destiny. You need to spend some
money and buy yourself a ticket to Burundi.

No, seriously, you need to think about advertising, whether
you're a man or woman or both. You can employ a variety of
ads, depending on your time, budget and level of
desperation. Remember: Desperate situations call for
desperate measures.

You can buy personal ads, matrimonial ads, patrimonial ads,
television ads, billboard ads, Burundi ads, ads on cars, ads
on buses, ads on Monica Lewinsky. Yes, for $2 million,
Monica will tattoo your phone number in a special place. And
for another twenty bucks, she'll let you see it. Regularly.

Remember: Ads are just a way of meeting people. You still
have to filter out (reject, dump, ditch) the bad prospects,
the ones who make your last blind date seem breathtaking.

Be very suspicious of a trucker who spots your bumper
sticker, honks and shouts, "Hey babe! What's your number?"
In such situations, it's always a good idea to flash a card
that says, "Hey stud! My number is 555-G-E-T-L-O-S-T!"

shashichief · 1st Moderator

WE COULD ALL USE MORE LOVE

I was excited the other day. Elated, ecstatic,
enraptured and all the other e-words. I
received an e-mail from a woman I’ve been
courting fruitlessly for several months. She’s
been resisting my advances, but as soon as
I read the subject line of her e-mail, I knew
my persistence was finally going to pay off in
a big way. The subject line read, "ILOVEYOU."

Yes, yes, yes! She’s finally returning my love,
I thought. And she’s declaring her feelings in
all capital letters, too! That means she’s
really serious. Even before I read her full
message, I was ready to dash off an e-mail
to her, screaming, "ILOVEYOUTOOBABE!"

I wanted to send e-mails to all my friends,
saying, "I told you so. I knew she’d come
around. I knew she wouldn’t wait until I’m the
last man on Earth."

But when I opened her e-mail, I was
crushed. Her "love letter" to me was an
attachment carrying a computer virus. It was
infecting my computer and deleting some of
my files. And even more distressing, it was
sending the very same "ILOVEYOU"
message to everyone in my address book,
including a number of MEN. Talk about a
dangerous virus! I had to act quickly. I didn’t
want people to get the wrong idea about
me. I know how rumors get started. One day
I’m telling a bunch of men I love them, the
next day I’m receiving flowers from George
Michael. Before I know it, Dr. Laura is telling
everyone I’m a biological error. Pretty soon,
my mother and Dr. Laura are duking it out,
setting off World War III. And I’m hiding in a
closet with Donato Dalrymple, the fisherman.

But what could I do? I thought about calling
everyone in my address book and warning
them about this destructive virus: "If you get
a message from me that says I love you,
delete it immediately. I don’t love you. At
least not in that way – not in all capital
letters. Not in the way that Oprah loves
Steadman, Kathie Lee loves Frank, or
Donald Trump loves himself."

But I didn’t know the phone numbers of
everyone in my address book. Some were
just strangers who had e-mailed me a joke,
wise saying or some other harmless
message. And here I was, hardly knowing
them, but still telling them, "ILOVEYOU."
What would they think?

ARNOLD SCHWARZENEGGER: "Hey
Maria, check zis out. Zis Shashi guy is zaying
zat he loves me. Vat a freak. He muz be
very desperate. Doesn’t he know zat I’m ze
terminator? I’ll hit him zo hard, he'll start
speaking like me."

BILL CLINTON: "Wow, look at this. I must
be more popular than the polls show. I’ve
received more than 1,000 ‘ILOVEYOU’
messages today, even one from Hillary.
The Republicans -- Bob Dole, John McCain,
George W. Bush -- they all love me. I
wonder what they want. I don’t care what
they say, Elian is going back to Cuba."

You’ve probably guessed that I didn’t really
receive the infamous "ILOVEYOU" e-mail,
which caused billions of dollars in damage
worldwide. But if I had, I would have opened
the attachment. Like thousands of people
who fell victim to the love bug, I would have
been pleased -- for at least a few seconds --
that someone loves me. Even if that
someone was a man.

It’s too bad that it took a virus creator to get
so many people to say, "ILOVEYOU."

shashichief · 1st Moderator

"LOW PHONE RATES COULD ENHANCE
YOUR LOVE LIFE"

If the telephone is a big part of your life,
you'll be happy to learn about two
developments. The first could keep you on
the phone forever -- or at least until the world
ends on Jan. 1. The second could make you
feel more comfortable about answering the
darn thing.

Let me explain.

Say you're a woman involved in a
long-distance relationship. You were on the
Internet and met this great guy named Sam
who lives in a remote part of West Virginia,
but still has all his teeth. Or so he claims.

Your relationship has progressed from the
Internet to the phone, and though you've
never set eyes on Sam or his molars, you're
beginning to plan your wedding. Hey, you're
an optimist. Besides, the earlier you start
planning, the more likely you'll remember the
names of all your relatives.

You've even selected a reception hall,
picked your bridesmaids, and opened a
gift registry at K mart.

There's only one problem: Sam stops
calling you.

You try to call him, but get his answering
machine. Still, you're glad to hear his voice
on the machine, though he says only, "Yo!"

After a week or so, your phone rings again.
You dash out of the bathroom, shampoo
running down your back. "Hello," you say,
your heart pounding like you just met
Ricky Martin.

"Hello," says the caller. "I'm calling from
Diewell Cemetery to offer you a special
deal on a burial plot."

It's a telemarketer, one who's apparently
making plans for your death. You slam the
phone, cursing Alexander Graham Bell.

After your cold shower, you check your
e-mail and find a message from Sam:

"Dear Fatima, I couldn't call you because
the phone company disconnected my
long-distance service for not paying the bill.
I wanted to pay it, but it was more than
double my rent. Those six-hour calls aren't
cheap. I tried to get a job, but they aren't
hiring at McDonald's. And the guy at the
pawn shop refused to take my collection of
hub caps. I'm really sorry about this. All
my love, Sam."

So now you have another problem: Your
name isn't Fatima.

It isn't even Fat-anything.

But you're in a forgiving mood. You're willing
to overlook this faux pas. You don't want to
lose the deposit on the reception hall.

You write to Sam, telling him about the low
rates phone companies have started
offering. Sprint's offering 5-cent nights.
MCI's offering 5-cent nights and early
mornings. AT&T's offering 7-cent mornings,
afternoons and nights. And perhaps 3-cent
birthdays.

For just a nickel, you can call your
ex-husband and tell him to get a life. He's
not achieving much in Congress.

What's more, if the heated competition in the
phone industry continues, it's possible that
long distance -- combined with Internet
access and other services -- will eventually
be FREE. That could take your romance to
a whole new level. You could even get
married by phone.

You have other good news for Sam: You
heard that some states are passing
laws against telemarketers, forcing them to
respect "do not call" lists. They won't be
interrupting your cold showers again.

Sam writes back: "Dear Fatima, I have
something important to tell you. My name
really isn't Sam. It's Samantha. That's why I
sound a lot like Michael Jackson."

Now you have another problem: Which one
of you will undergo the sex change
operation? There isn't much time before the
wedding.