Tea for you and two for tea

Tea. Tea. That wonderful brew. Wakes you up in the morning like a sweet milky kiss. But oh so temperamental. You have to measure out the water in your cup and leave room for milk. Then you have to dash the milk in. And contrary to most laws of physics, the first dash of milk doesn't raise the liquid level. It only clouds up the water. Then you have to add more milk to ensure the finished product is a complete cup of chai. And I always seem to think that gobs of it are going to evaporate so I do my due diligence and dash in a bit more. As a result of which, I've got too much milk. Then I think to myself, "Self! More water?" "No, the brew will darken and none will be the wiser." "Brilliant!" Then comes the chai ka masala because no self-respecting half-Gujju household will ever serve up plain tea. Add the tea leaves and then begins the boil.

Many school of thoughts re this boil. 6 times to the top, me mum says. Which results in tea so weak, you want to poke it in the chest and call it names. Do wot I do - boil it for about 12 minutes. Strain and pour. Now that's a cuppacha!

The only problem being that when you're dragged out of bed at 6 am to make cha fer yer cranky dad, you don't have the patience to stand there and watch the damn thing boil for 12 minutes or indeed '6 times to the top'. So you stare at it long enough to ensure that steam issues, bung it in the nearest cup and shove it under Dad's nose. Which is prolly why he throws the newspaper at me every morning.

Note to self: must employ chai-maker either in electrical or human form.

Which idiot sent me an SMS at 2 am this morning asking me to come out with them?! No name, no location, no nothing! Just "dude, this is mad, come out with us". Wot the hell does that mean?! You're lucky I was half-asleep, I'd have called you up and verbally kicked your ass. Next time, SEND ME YOUR NAME, otherwise I am inclined to mutter abuse, roll over and go back to sleep. I'm not getting out of my cozy bed for some nameless freak on the street. That shit is fun only in Milwaukee, not here.

That being said, I read the Entertainment Magazine (someone really worked hard on that name) today and apparently I've missed the Royal Omani Orchestra's single performance show, bunch of djs I wanted to check out, a concert or three and a mini film festival. #$^8$%)!

Today I shall take dad's car and go take pictures around town. Yes, alone. 'Cuz I got no friends. Prolly because I harbor murderous sentiments towards those who message me to go out presumably to wot seems to sound like a raucous drinking binge. But tonight? I'm free tonight! I can go binging tonight!

Smoking cigarettes causes heartburn. Inhaling second-hand smoke also causes heartburn. Pop's is at it again. Seems to have an identity crisis these days. Thinks he's a chimney and thus obliged to pollute. I'm going to have to burn something after he leaves.

Interesting things at work these days. Trying to fix a project plan. Took me all day yesterday to get a GUI designer. He was 'resourced' elsewhere. And he's not a GUI designer. He's a graphic artist. There are no GUI designers here. They're all ex-photographers-turned-potheads. And bald. They're all bald and look like ATA.

Think may perhaps go for Merchant of Venice and/or Star Wars today. With bigg (yes, with 2 gs) tub of buttered popcorn and a giant slurpie. Only they don't have slurpies here. But the equivalent isn't bad. Only I don't got no friends to snort over brain freeze jokes with. Oh well.

"To the mall" is the cry raised from all corners of the kingdom. "To the mall, and fear nothing!"