Targeting Asian Americans as the largest ethnic spenders. Bit late now, innit? Satellite's being doing it for years.
Bluetooth. If you don't got it, get it.
Can't stop drinking? Take a pill. Another way to provide yet another excuse for people to not take responsibility for their lives.
Working on a new template.
Went out to lunch at a very nice Japanese restaurant in the Crowne Plaza Hotel with a new friend. All is not lost. There are intelligent and fun women in Dubai.
Then got a very lovely bouquet of flowers (blue chrysanthemums, orange lilies, pink roses) from Holland Flowers in Karama for this damn boring Sindhi do tonight which I'm trying to get out of going because I don't want to be stuck with a bunch of stupid women harping on about their diamonds. Besides, they're not even nice people. I would much rather watch a pirated VCD and eat leftover pan-fried noodles. Something tells me that I'm going to be dragged out anyway. Bah.
Still, I've dem lovely flowers to look at until then.
... that you sat there stupidly staring at your laptop and obsessively hitting the Stop button on your browser even when there was no page loading?
So like, in other news, I have me a job. Yessiree, a full-fledged 9-5 two day weekend snooty posish at an 'interactive' agency. That word is so overused in Dubai it makes me want to puke. So everytime someone asks me wot I do, I don't tell them I'm in the interactive business. That just makes me sound like a cheap (yet somehow pricey) hooker.
So anyway, this is where I will be working *grin*. Eat yer heart out.
And this is who I'll be working for. Ni ni ni ni ni.
Met with old school chums that haven't seen for 10 years (yes, it's been that long) yesterday at Lamcy Plaza. Was nice. Bit quick and teeming with south indian families with screaming babies, but nice. Laughed a lot. Missed some other friends (most notably, Binny-bee). Played with a 2-yr old who refused to look at me. All in all a good time was had by all. Was a bit odd since was the only one who was single and not toting a baby on hip, but was nice to see how people have progressed.
Ok, headache worsening. Now going to go lie on floor of living room with wet perfumed cloth on forehead and moan dramatically. Oo, nausea.
Fishrush. Wot fish feel when they're excited. I thot it was brilliant.
Hah, have put horribly pixelized picture of self possessively clutching martini glass (yes, Storm, it's the one from Buca's at New Years) on Shaadi.com (no, I will not link to it. I categorically refuse). It's my way of rebelling.
Why, oh why can't I be lovely old spinster aunt Wolfie who gives visiting nieces and nephews chocolate and tells them funny stories? And I actually do like cats. I do. It's true.
I don't want to live with a 'boy' who leaves hair in the sink and walks three steps in front of me and expects bed tea every morning. Would it be so horribly awful if I wanted to live my life on my terms?
I have just been shown the ugliest picture of the ugliest Kayasth 'boy' I have ever seen. I'm going to agree to pursue this just to prove a point.
Is it horrible that my grand plan is based on the supposition that my parents will fail miserably and I can 'hah!' in their faces? It is, isn't it. I'm going to hell, aren't I.
Sigh.
If you've been harboring a secret love for me all these years, now would be a good time to leap in.
C'mon Manna. You know you want me.
This is because 'boys' don't want to marry very intelligent girls. So these are the standards by which I am expected to live my life. Don't be too intelligent girls, you may die a spinster. Am I the only one who sees the flaw in this reasoning? Why would you want to marry a 'boy' who doesn't want an intelligent wife? I'll tell you why. Because it doesn't take intelligence to have sex. And sex makes babies. Well, only if you do it right. And babies are all that matter. You're not allowed to not want to have babies. Because you couldn't possibly know wot's good for you. You're too immature to make your own decisions. You must follow your parents decisions. But Wolfie, you say, if you're too immature to know any better then it's not going to change after you get married. You'll still be immature. But you see there is a difference there. After you get married, your husband will make your decisions for you. So you're covered. Now isn't that a pleasant life?
So I'm to be married off. Yes, that's right, you heard me. This morning I got a lecture on how I've turned out to be this belligerent cannibalistic commando and am fast reaching my sell-by date and should be married off as soon as possible. Education shemeducation. Career shameer. Learn how to make a family. That's all you need to know. All you need to know for wot? To lead a happy successful life? I don't see you doing it. My case is different. I abandoned my family for education so I could get a better job to earn a good living so I could afford my children's bills. So, tell you wot. Let me finish wot I've started and then I can devote my entire day to cooking, cleaning and producing babies for my husband and his family and you. You'll be too old by then. All the good 'boys' will be taken. Now how do you argue with that impeccable logic?
So now begins the lovely process of going online with my matrimonial. Although we may not get that far - we've got a chap who lives in the same building who is unmarried and breathing and that is, I quote, "good enough for you".
Now why would you bother raising your girls to value education and be independent if you couldn't care less about their opinions? I'll tell you why. Because 'boys' don't like uneducated girls who can't drive a car to the market to get the day's groceries. Wot? You thought girl children were important? Silly. They're only important enough to marry off (presumably so someone else can foot the bills) and produce babies. Preferably boy babies. Cuz you know if they're girl babies they're going to have to be married off (presumably so someone else can foot the bills) and produce babies. Preferably boy babies.
Although if you were born a boy baby, then they'd want to marry you off (or is it in) for other reasons. One of which will be to make babies. Preferably boy babies. Cuz you know if they're girl babies they're going to have to be married off...
But I've got a plan of my own. I'm going to let them do it. Let them run around advertising my excellent cooking skills. Give them something to do. Let's see if they can come up with a 'suitable boy'. Ten bucks says if they do, then it will be 'hah, see I told you so' and if they don't, 'the problem lies with you, you're too old and militant'.
So anyway. There it is. It would be funny if it wasn't my life.
I have just received confirmation that we are, in fact, having egg fried rice for dinner and not, as supposed earlier, baigan. Also, Dad has justified his leaping on one foot and singing 'himme himme' with the explanation that if Daler Mehndi did it, it would be considered cool and people would, therefore, pay him money. He is now hurt that I would think that wot is goose for a turbaned sardar is not gander for him and is sulking in front of the tele. I shall now go sit on his legs.
So, the Gulf News man came a-ringing the doorbell today wanting us to renew our subscription (yes, they actually do come to your door). I asked him to prove he was from the newspaper. He smiled at me. Very oilyly. I told him I was serious. He laughed. I glared. He shut up. And showed me a card. After which he seemed in a hurry to leave.
Dad has gone a bit mad. He just came into the study, touched me on the shoulder with one finger, sniffed the beige kandoora he was wearing, mentioned how lovely the laundry smells these days (mountain fresh even) and then proceeded to jump around on one foot singing 'himme himme'. I don't know. Don't ask me. Now he's gone off to lie on the living room couch in front of the newly fixed up entertainment system complete with repaired plasma tele, satellite AND cable and denies all allegations to his aforementioned jumping around on one foot singing 'himme himme'.
And Mum, for some strange obscure reason, is looking up recipes for egg fried rice. I thot we were having baigan for dinner.
This entire family is off it's noodle if you ask me.
And in case you're wondering wot prompted the previous post - I was miserable with foot troubles yesterday. Awash in a sea of pain as it were. No more quinine. The thought of being quinine-less for an extended period of time makes me quiver in fear. Need to get more. Simply must have more quinine.
There is gold being painted on the gypsum around the house. No, not actual gold, you understand. Gold paint I mean. And the buggers can't paint in a straight line to save their life. Literally. I threatened them unto point of death (or is it upto?). But they still won't. They go all willy-nilly with it and then fix it with white paint. Very stupid if you ask me. Anyway.
Gangaram has just emptied the vaccum cleaner canister onto the floor because it was full. And now he's going to vaccum it up.
Jenga couldn't paint in a straight line to save his life. I had to climb up on a stool to show him how to do the bathroom ceiling.
And then you wonder why I want to beat people on the head repeatedly.
So like I had a very boring day yesterday.
Was up and about bright and early to go grocery shopping at the new Fish Market area (well, it's new to me!) opposite the Gold Souk. Didn't get there. RK called to divert us to the airport. So off we went to the airport to pick up some people we didn't know. Then back to Emirates Hills. Then to Jebel Ali (the problem with riding in limos is that you always have to climb over people to get inside). Then to the Grand Hyatt Hotel for a meeting with a suspicious-looking Sardar. The Grand Hyatt is lovely. Very lovely. See for yourself. (Take a look at all the pictures. You'll be glad you did). Then off to the airport again to drop off RK who's on his way to Beirut (yes, the one in Lebanon) (yes, people actually do go to places like Lebanon and Syria). Then back to Emirates Hills to pick up the car and be dropped off home. 8 am to 6 pm. Driving all over town. S T R E T C H. I could have done that in the limo.
It's not quite as big as the ones we had in Vegas but quite nice nonetheless. I couldn't get the DVD player to work though. So that made for a rather boring day in all.
I shall remember to take the camera out and take pictures next time I'm out and about.
And Vegas got nothing over Dubai.
This is because my scalp has been hot-oil massaged. Parachute bottles are a lot nicer now with their international pack. Why don't we get this in the US?
Links et al - (this feature of the daily Wolfie newsletter will be discontinued unless I get plenty of comments suggesting otherwise. C'mon people. Let your voice be heard.)
I should get this helmet just for kicks.
The best people and how to hire them.
It would be awesome if the RadioShark would pick up Internet radio. It's rather pointless otherwise.
Gangaram gave me a very disappointed look when I told him that all the cotton wipes were in the wash. I think he had his heart set on polishing the woodwork.
You know, I never did think about the impact of the Internet on my mother. She can now read a lot more horoscope pages. At the speed of broadband. Isn't that awesome?
CEO Paychecks. Daym.
I've uninstalled AOL Instant Messenger. There's no point. The software is rubbish. I can never connect. Those of you who were on my list get Yahoo! Messenger or MSN.
The Sonos Digital Music System. I've seen better ones installed but this one seems rather decent for the price. Can you say Bang & Olufsen fast five times?
Beatles - Lucille. Brilliant number.
Don't choke the flow of immigrants. I agree. Let us in!
Do you agree with Liz Ryan's assessment of why there are so few women running companies? I don't. In fact, I've been following Mz. Ryan's career closely and she's really starting to p*ss me off.
Have you really ever listened to the words of Yellow Submarine by the Beatles? It makes no sense. And nobody noticed that they were prolly stoned upto their eyebrows when they made their music? Also, why is it that people who are stoned (and or bind or deaf) when they make music make such good music and are therefore popular? Does this mean that the human mind can only attain lofly musical heights when not operating under normal, unstressful conditions?
Free digital television broadcasting?! Oh the horror!
Ok. Have to go wash this gunk off my head. Yesterday it was pink cupcake cravings and now coconut chocolate. Tch.
Stupid people with their stupid parathas. So very irritated now. Have decided not to talk to Dad unless spoken to.
So we went for dinner in Emirates Hills tonight. Where I sat next to a woman in a black salwar-kameez with a faux fur-lined dupatta (veil). I foolishly decided to sit outside by the pool for a while cuz it's a nice night and now i've been bitten again. Damn mosquitoes.
I did get to drive back home. However I had to stick to 80 kmph because Mum was gripping the sides of her seat and hissing sharply everytime a car passed us by. And if you're going at 80 on Sh. Zayed Road, there are a lot of cars passing you by given that the speed limit is 100 kmph. Nice ride the Lexus.
So ask me why I'm so pleased. This is because I've found the mattress I used to sleep on. And I've made my little bed on the floor of the study (much to Mum's chagrin) like the good ole days. And I'm sitting here propped up with many pillows with my laptop on my lap and a song in my heart. Why the song Wolfie, you ask? This is because the BU application is finally complete. The recos are in. The doors have been closed. The committee is under deliberation. Say a little prayer for me.
Right. Look listen, I'm going to bed (but Wolfie, you are in bed). Well I'm going to sleep.
People, please stop sending me chain letters. I don't believe in them. They are a waste of bandwidth. They irritate me. I don't care if horribly bad things will happen if I don't forward a bunch of drivel to my nearest and dearest. I've never sent you chain letters. Doesn't that count for anything?
The JVC people have taken away Plaz, our flat screen tele (yes, I name my electrical equipment. Yes, even my turntable). I didn't ask them for identification. Do you think they were not from the JVC?! Oh no! Wot if I've willingly let thieves haul away our big screen?! Plaz! Come back!
My toes are now very mauve.
Uncle Scrooge came to visit for a few days. He's got an appaling sense of direction. And no hair. The signature Scrooge hair is falling. Very sad. You should have taken better care of it, S. For your fans. For the masses. Hot oil treatments and all dat. Tch. Very sad.
God help me, I am so bored.
DJ Shorty - Rang Deeni (Progressive Mix)
Kaal Dhamaal - The Tiger Mix
Jazzy Bains - Romeo
Jazzy Bains - Romeo Tappe
Jazzy Bains - Sajna
Josh - Josh Naal - DJ Jiten Mix
Kuchh Meetha Ho Jaye - Aane Do Royal Stag Mega Mix
Lehmber Hussainpuri - Challa II
Master Rakesh - Move
Sona Family feat Hard Kaur - Glassy
Sonu Nigam - Tauba Tauba
Mentor Kolektiv - Pasand
Mentor Kolektiv - Put Your Hands Up ft Blitzkrieg
Musafir - Saqi Saqi
I hate that the phone rings everytime I want to talk to you. I suppose it'll never be the same again.
I've got the Bombay theme stuck in my head and now I can't sleep.
Do you think it would be weird if I went to bed with my laptop and headphones?
Oh alright, stop squealing, I've got the India pictures uploaded. Now, if you want to see them, email me and I'll send you the link. That is, if I've not already done so.
And if you've already seen them and want to comment on the quality of the images, don't. Resist the urge. I know they're not very good. Deal with it. Oh, and there's a video too. But I'm still editing that one.
Back in Dubai. So very glad to be home.
Went for dinner to Ravi restaurant with two Swiss bankers from Geneva. Fun.
Tired now. Bit sick too. India does that to you. So off to bed I go. With The Complete Yes Prime Minister book. And some gunk titled mungo cream or something that I'm s'posed to use for the bug bites.
So till later, dahlings. But be rest assured, Wolfie is back. And no, I didn't get engaged or betrothed either.
Sigh. Have given up fighting the bugs. Decided to let them bite me. Best not to struggle much.
Palghar plans cancelled (was to go for the day to meet distant relatives twice removed cousin by marriage type people). Watching the cricket. It's a wet pitch.
Mrs. Contractor stopped by to give me an English paper. Very glad to have something to read that's not the Bhagvad Gita. Nice woman.
Went bhaji shopping with mami (mother's brother's wife) and was tempted to get some dried fish. Finally decided against it. Wise, I think.
I hate bugs. Current bite count is 27. I kid you not. I have 27 documented mosquito bites. One bit me on my nose. Getting very irritated with people laughing about my sweet blood. Want to slap them repeatedly and force them to swallow neem juice.
No electricity today. But not very hot either. Have torn eye again. Dammit.
Went to Radhika Behn's resort today. Is called Anjali Resort and has a 50-foot wide well. Huge Maharashtrian lunch and a nap in a thatch hut later went for a walk amongst dense forest of chikoo trees. Got lots of chikoo chips for the Googster but we all know she's not going to get any.
Damn mosquitoes. And this is after lathering Odomos (smelly cream you slap on your skin to discourage the bugs), lighting Kachua (smoky thing you burn all night to ward off bugs) and a Good Night mat (see Kachua sans smoke).
Was abandoned by Mum this morning. She shoved off to some other temple or something. Lots of religion in these parts. Wandered around aimlessly on the terrace since heard reports of rats running around biting people in the living room at night. Figured the terrace would be safe since no place for rats to hide.
Was kidnapped by the people across the street and taken to drink neera - some date palm tree secretion thing - very sweet, quite refreshing. Have been bamboozled into eating lunch at neighbour's. Have had 2 breakfasts already. Getting quite fed up of being so fed up.
Mala mami (mother's cousin's wife) just declared that she doesn't believe in insurance and Bipin Bhai (neighbour) wants me to drink neem juice (smelly green tree) to clear off my spots. Have tried to tell him that I don't have spots and that these are mosquito bites but he seems quite convinced that I have a skin condition. Unfortunately it was Maharashtrian New Year yesterday and somebody's deposited gallons of the stuff at our front door. Hai Maalik.
Must feign weakness and stay in bed all day. No wait, that won't work. They'll feed me more! Oo, could pretend to have diahrrea. Unfortunately am fit as a fiddle. Couldn't possibly be healthier. Rosy cheeks and all that. Suggested going for a walk to the beach but was greeted by horrified screechings of "dhoop mein kaise chalogi?!" (it's too hot and sunny to walk outside). Everybody's completely convinced that since am so fair that am going to melt the minute I step out of the house.
Went to Mr. and Mrs. Contractor's house for dinner. Yes, that is their actual name. He's a horticulturist and they've got a lovely garden full of exotic tropical plants. Sat next to a Swami (religious man) at dinner and it was all I could do not to hit him with a thali (round steel plate you eat in - no fine china here).
Hot. Bitten in the strangest places by mosquitoes. Current count is 13. Must not scratch. Arrgh.
Ate jamuns and amla today (strange Indian fruits). Frankly, I don't see the fascination. Mum's running around washing things repeatedly. I'm running around washing my hands repeatedly. People are starting to call us names in Gujrati. There's a 5-yr old that wants to sit in my lap all the time.
Went to Mahalaxmi temple with the extended family who is very amused that I don't speak Gujrati.
Hot. Mosquitoes. Bad throat. Body ache.
After a cold shower was accosted by a cup of steaming hot milk with haldi (turmeric powder - supposed to soothe your throat). Actually did drink it. Nasty stuff.
Being fed silly by relatives. Going to be very ill, I can tell. Surrounded by homemade pickle (my mum's family makes and sells pickles, among other things). Heartburn doing double time. Good thing have brought month's supply of Zantac 150. Bring on the curry! Heaven help me these 7 days and I'll quit spicy food for a month, I promise. But for now, let me wallow in the magnificence of pickled mangoes. Oh the joy, the bliss, the tears. Spoke to Dad who was very petulant about being left alone. Poor chap. Anyway, prolly best. He'd be sucking up the frieds like there's no tomorrow.
Being laughed at quite a bit since have been wandering around with camcorder in my orange pants NRI (Non-Resident Indian) style.
Just had lunch with freshly pickeled pickle. My mouth is on fire and my head hurts. Damn but that stuff is good. Mum continues to be happy. Has ditched her salwaar kameezes and is hanging around in skirt and t-shirt looking like a college girl on vacation. Am glad for her.
Will promptly pass out underneath limpid fan awash in the excesses of kaachi keri (raw mango pickle).
Went to the Jain temple in Kosbard. Been a long long time since I was on a motorbike. Rest in peace, Raj.
Left home at 2 am. Horrified driver with 9 bags. Can't be helped. Mum's eyes positively lit up when was told that could take 100 kgs (220 lbs) in checked-in baggage. Sitting in Business Class lounge and can tell there's Internet connectivity somewhere. The air fairly reeks of bits and bytes. Somewhere someone is checking their email and it's not me.
Pleasant flight. Love the leg room in Emirates' Business Class. Landed at 8:30 am (Indian Standard Time), met mama (mother's brother) and pushed off for Gholvad by car. Bombay smells of urine. The minute you step off the plane and even before you enter the airport terminal the smell of urine assaults you. And I've figured out why everybody honks on the street. All trucks, buses and rikshaws invite you to 'horn please ok'. 'Twould be rude not to. Drive was horrible for my OCD. Have forgotten to pack wet wipes. Only have small bottle of lotion. Bloody hell.
Gholvad, for the uninitiated, is 120kms (74.5 miles) from Bombay due north. It's a small coastal village and no, Dinesh, there is no wi-fi connectivity. The village looks a lot smaller than it did 10 yrs ago. Maybe I've just grown. Arrived. Hugged. People cried. Bags were hauled in. There's no electricity until 5 pm today and it's about 35C (95F). Have put away jeans and am lounging about in bright orange BJP pajamas. Everybody keeps smiling at me. Wonder why.
My Nani (mother's mother) is 80 would you believe. They've split the house and live in 1/3rd of it with the other bit rented out to the Bank of Baroda (Gholvad Branch) *tee hee*. Makes for small living space but goodly enough, the bathrooms are now in-house. I hated going to that outhouse earlier. The prospect of bugs crawling up your legs in the middle of the night was enough to make me stop drinking water. Not that I can drink the water. It's got that horrible taste. Perfectly safe to drink but that horrible taste. Am going to live on juices. Have brilliantly brought large tin of Tang.
Went for a walk with the general junta (public) in the evening to Bordi Beach. Very nice. Clean sand, blue skies and wispy clouds. Lovely sunset. Walked back and realized wot Gholvad smells of - gobar (cow dung). Now watching Star Plus. No steady electricity or drinking water but we've got cable television. Go figure. Mum looks happy and relaxed to be here.
India tomorrow. Be gone for 7 days. Back on the 14th. Possibly 15th. Obs not taking laptop. Doubt will find wi-fi spots in Gholvad. Which is tiny leetle coastal village. But taking camcorder so expect some good pictures. That is if I don't get dysentery since am the most NRI person I know. Have told Mum to stock up on the Imodium but she says we'll get some in Dhanu. Told her that symptoms may be of a slightly urgent nature and possibly might not last till we get from Gholvad to Dhanu but she's strangely confident. It worries me.
Why is Vivek Mushran singing songs? He's a terrible actor. Now he sings terrible songs. Wot gives?
"Why, Wolfie, have you become so Bolly-obsessed?", you ask. You may as well ask. There's nothing to do here but watch tele. Which, btw, I spent 8.5 hours yesterday reconfiguring with the home theatre system and the 6 speakers. Now we have Bollywood in surround sound.
Links shminks - (does anybody even read them?!)
Wearable computers. I'd like a scarf that plays music, sure. But try getting this past my mother's brutal washings. 7 years I've been hanging on to this one black t-shirt and my mother washes it once and it's shot to hell. "Why, Wolfie, are you hanging on to clothes that long", you ask. Sentimental value, I snap in reply.
You know wot I'd like to see? The next generation of cyborg computing whereby object actions are activated by thought. C'est possible? Would that still be considered cyborg computing?
Pocket VCR? Convenient for the frequent flyer. The airlines better keep up. Can't you just imagine the media rights industry all a-quiver?
They wouldn't let go of servers, would they? Noooo!
Navel piercings for pregnant women. Another useless piece of nonsense hits the US.
Do you wonder why investors are dumping chips? I do. Keeps me up at night.
Oo, yes, get voice commands in Nintendo! These Japanese people have the right idea about gaming, I tell you.
Gangaram, the stupid fuck, after being told not to unplug things has gone and unplugged the satellite receiver as a result of which, the tele has gone bonkers. People are stupid mindless shits. And now Mum is fiddling with the remote controls. We all know wot that means. AFTER SPENDING 8 AND A HALF HOURS ON THE BLOODY THING, I'M NOW GOING TO HAVE TO FIX IT AGAIN!
Was returning from Rashid Hospital and found JVC technician wandering aimlessly on Airport Road. Have kidnapped him and am now fighting traffic to get him home to fix video-less-but-plentiful-audio problem since plasma tele manuals are horribly inadequate. Sticks in my craw that cannot fix piddly piece of electronic equipment. What is a plasma tele after all I ask you. I can take 3 standing on one leg.
Woman in angio lab was suspiciously vague when I asked her if I could make copies of the disc she was burning with Dad’s report. Will it or won’t it work?
Did you know there’s a Casablanca St. in Dubai? Intersects Airport Road and leads to Cargo Village.
Remember back when the Hyatt Regency Hotel was tops with its ice rink and Galleria shopping? Looks very sandy now. The thing about Old Dubai (as it's now called) is that sooner or later, all the buildings start to blend into the desert. The Hyatt looks lonely. I'd go there just to take a peek for old times' sake but I think those are memories best not refreshed.
Oo, Deira bazaar. So very much want to buy a compass box from Al Fahidi Stationery *grin*.
Al Baniyas Square. Shawarmas not as good as Karama's. Old AHK offices. I was once a secretary and marketing manager there.
Yes, I realize that all this random rambling makes for long boring posts and is completely irrelevant to absolutely anything but this is my blog and I'll write wot I please thank you very much. Besides, I'm in traffic and didn't bring a book to read.
But Wolfie, you say, why not exercise editing privileges when you actually post in the evening? Well now, I say, if I went about editing posts willy-nilly where would we be? Not spending hours reading your drivel, you say. Go wash your face, I say. Let's not get personal, you say. You'll read it and like it, I say.
Got Residence visa stamped. Bless urgent processing options.
Now onwards to Deira to get a fire safety certificate for the Al Quoz site. There's a man in the car in the next lane who seems to be praying to his steering wheel.
Washed hands twice only since leaving home at 9 am. Wonder if there's a Ladies in the Baladiya building.
Chap at visa processing asked me, "Tum Qurbani dekha? Allaaaaaah, kya picture banaya". Then he proceeded to ask Dad if his wife had a mirchi zabaan. V. funny.
Spoke to Marcel last night. He's got me all excited about his visit. Must make plans. This way, I get to see Dubai too :)
It's marvelous how magnificently the women who work in government service departments manage to get such a wonderful look of disdain on their usually expressionless faces.
Have walked around the building twice to find the Residence Section. "Outside and right" is a very vague direction.
Some fat bastard is singing to me. Must shift location. And now another one is giving me odd looks for writing in a notepad. Take a picture, twerp. It'll last longer.
Do not underestimate the power of clicking your tongue. It has a wonderful effect on the men. Makes 'em run for cover it does. I should start wearing burkhas. Nobody messes with you if you're wearing an expensive burkha and have a look of superior disdain.
In my journeys to and from the Department of Immigration & Residence, I find a lot of photograph moments. Unfortunately, as I write this, I am in the back of Dad's labor transport van and a camcorder (or indeed a laptop) I fear, would not withstand the creaky suspension with any degree of fortitude.
Dad showed me a picture of a dish served in Emirates in the newspaper this morning. It was strawberries on cake topped with whipped cream. Said he wanted that for breakfast. I gave him his cherry jam on wheat toast and cheesed it before he could complain.
Arrived at Dept. of I & R. More negotiations with typing people in my future.
To those unfamiliar with 'typing people' let me explain - for all documents to be filed with the government one needs to fill out multiple forms in Arabic and these 'typing people' know which ones to fill and will fill them for you for a nominal fee. They also have an incredible knowledge of wot the procedures are to get things done. Saves you standing in line for hours to find that you need your grandmother's birth certificate and have to return to stand in a longer line the next day. Brilliant operations if you ask me.
Just saw a bunch of trucks with 'Bin Ladin Group' printed on the side. Too funny.
I dreamt I had inadvertently locked Salwa in my dorm room and gone off for 7 weeks. I was very unhappy about it when I returned. Salwa wasn't as annoyed as you'd think she might be. She had khakras to keep her company. When I finally did let her out, there were dead wasps on the floor.
Here are some brilliant videos (Quicktime should do you fine) -
The Peugeot ad.
The Gandhi telecom commercial.
Russell Peters being funny.
Indian Idols.
More Indian Idols. Gotta give this guy props for trying.
Tired now. Going to make me a sammich and curl up in bed with a book.
Mustn't be terse. Musn't be compact. Must be nice. It's not my fault I have a small chehera. Why is there always so much friction? You may as well ask. I'm biased is wot it is. Must learn to let go. Prolly causes bile, this does. Would explain the heartburn. Heart burn. It isn't my heart, it's my stomach that's on fire. Hey, that would be cool. An image of a burning heart. I'll google it now. So much for sticking to the topic. ADD, I tell you. Still, must be nice.
So hard to be nice though. Accomodating. Always been nice. Don't want to be nice anymore. Not going to have children. Mustn't have children if don't want to be nice. Besides, bring you nothing but heart burn, children do. No point. Invest in a jet-ski instead. More fun I should think.
I like the Nokia 2600 ad.
Trying to send email and only just realized that Gangaram, the chap who comes in once a week, has, in his infinite wisdom, very unceremoniously unplugged the router in order to use the plug to hoover the floor. Sigh.
I don’t think people really appreciate how funny Adnan Sami videos truly are.
Was watching the HELP Tsunami telethon concert on Star Plus yesterday. There’s some REALLY bad Punjabi dancing going on here. Been a while since I’ve seen nice sherwanis though. Brilliant how they managed to get this organized so nicely.
Have given up on damn BSOD issues. Will need to get NIC card.
Got yelled at today by Mum for turning down the volume on the tele. You know, from when I was watching it yesterday. So, apparently turning down the volume on the tele and then switching it off is not to be done. I was told to ask before changing things. Because, you know, apparently I don’t have leeway in my parents’ house to opt not to go deaf.
I have such a bad headache.
My bookmark list has 128 entries.
My eyeglasses have a permanent blue reflection.
I hate turning off my computer in case something important happens and it won’t boot up fast enough for me to Google it. Also, at night, I tend to take it to bed with me because I get an empty feeling when I’m away from it.
Sometimes, when V is online, I turn up the volume real loud so I can hear if he sends me a message.
When I check my email and it says I have no new messages, I check it again.
I am usually not aware of wot gender my friends are.
When I can’t sleep, I rock myself.
I’ve only been really truly jealous once. That was when Big D nestled Little D’s head on his shoulder, wrapped his arms around her and whispered to me, “she can’t sleep otherwise”.
Everytime someone takes a picture of me, I tilt my head.
I have lovely handwriting and when I swim, it’s like poetry in motion.
I’m afraid of falling and not being able to get up again.
I can never understand wot comes out of the speakers on the ‘Jesus’ car.
I know wot’s going to happen in most Hindi movies by the first fifteen minutes.
I hate hospitals.
I really really wanted to go to NYU.
I hate traveling with more than one bag.
Cream cheese is my favorite food.
Sometimes, I can’t stop talking. I once talked for a straight 10.5 hours pausing only for sips of water.
I can’t stand most Indian men.
I can be very neat, bold and brash.
I secretly wish my name was Rhonda Rimmer.
I was born in the same year as Kobe Bryant and he’s accomplished way more than I have.
I make wait staff cry.
Who I am is none of your business. If I wanted you to know who I am, I would tell you. And if you really wanted to find out, you could.
BSOD issues persist. They sneaked back on me. There's an IRQ conflict somewhere. Have set assignments manually in BIOS. Didn't work. Only thing to do is get NIC card so won't have to use driver for gateway. That would be like admitting defeat. Mum keeps calling from work to tell me that I should call Etisalat. Have told her 3 times already that Etisalat doesn't know squat. I wish people would stop wasting my pre-paid minutes.
Mum also keeps calling to relay messages to Dad. I wish those two would get their act together. I need a very dirty martini and about 18 fags.
Oh, make it end.
Oh, and btw, the problem with blue-screen-kernel-memory-leakage -microsoft's-knowledge-base-never-makes-any-sense problem was fixed by updating the driver for the gateway. Stupid Etisalat.
Two people found my blog by searching for the phrase 'bad indian girls' on Yahoo! One from Michigan and the other from San Francisco. Sorry, no porn here.
Someone from Utah actually searched for 'champagne shoulders blog'. Wonder who that is.
Someone searched for 'tarzan' *giggle*.
The Shephard Express guy didn't stay long. Prolly wasn't very interested. Either that or he deleted the cookie right away. Which would be unusually techie of him. Hmm.
Someone visited on FreeBSD too.
Applied to a lot of jobs. Fixed kernel memory leakage problem with desktop (at least I think I did). Made wireless network more secure. Did laundry. Read two chapters of The Most of P.G. Wodehouse. Unpacked all bags and put things away (or put things back in bag after folding them very nicely). Applied to a lot more jobs.
I am so bored. Friends! I need friends dammit! Or, alternatively, a car. Vakson's in Syria (don't ask me why.. apparently he's got clients there) and won't be back till tomorrow, blast him.
Pops won't listen and made his egg swimming in oil this morning. Prolly buttered his toast too. I have resorted to giving him dirty looks and refusing to speak with him because apparently running around the house with the frying pan doesn't work. He pours the oil in anyway. Haven't smelled cigarette smoke on him yet but it's only day 3 and quite frankly, I have no faith in his pathetic will-power. Must buy more non-stick cookware. Damn parents. They never listen. Wot am I to do?
Even thinking gives me heartburn these days. Should I be poignant and write a pome about my woes, cleverly punning heartburn with heart burn?
P'raps not.
Happy b'day, Zac.
