Pappu can't dance....so? X-(

Yes. So Pappu can’t dance. What’s so wrong about that?

Pappu has an MBA (that requires some brains), he holidays in France (has money AND taste!), plays the guitar (extra-curricular star, plus sensitive, music-loving man), Gucci perfume (sophisticated metrosexual, probably has a feminine side), born with a silver spoon in his mouth, has a Papa who has great expectations of him (parents usually stop having false expectations of super-success when their kids turn 18, so this guy has something going for him), and is a "yaaron ka yaar" (a hit with his friends) and kudiyon mein kraze!!

But OH...MY...GOD!!...Pappu can't dance!!! Its the end of the world for him....Somebody please advise him to go sit in a dark corner of a room and slit his wrist...because he can't dance!!!

Its just soooooo irritating to hear a song that makes a big deal out of not being able to dance. "Dancing maketh the man" seems to be the new motto of the common wannabe in India. And sure enough, this being the "in" thing nowadays, being able to dance, will be top priority when it comes to choosing a boyfriend!

Ok, fine, I hate dancing. But it's not that I hate dancing so much, it's that I hate to go dancing. The bowel shaking earthquakes of bass and the piercing treble of an all too loud dance club make it impossible to think, drink and talk. I might as well click a flashlight in my face with a ice pick in my ear and an anvil on my chest.

So you ladies probably think, "Na...not boyfriend material. He is different than you." You think this because you met him at a club. The reality being, he was trying to get laid that night and he couldn't afford the really high class whores. Guys don't like going to those places. They only go now to keep you from wining, and don't want you to go alone, for fear you'll find a better liar than they are. They were just hoping they could just screw you for free. I really feel sorry for the poor asshole who goes to one of these places thinking he's going to meet someone. He'll have better luck walking with a white cane down a busy street at rush hour. At least then he won't get slapped for "accidentaly" groping a feel.

Let's talk about music for a second. It isn't music anymore. It's just a hopped up drum machine. My friend screams at me, "LET'S GO TO THE OTHER ROOM, I HATE THIS SONG." What song? This is the same floor banger I listened to an hour ago. Why do they even bother having DJ's? Do they play requests? "Hey we've got a very special dedication going out to a lovely couple, and for them I'm going to play, "Dance Mix Number 4." Replace these guys with the Drumulator 5000 and let it thump away all night.

I'll stop the post right here. Else my passionate hatred for dancing might make this too long a read...:-)