Everybody needs their soul saved

The first snow of the season is falling

It's got fat flakes too. The kind that makes you want to catch it when you're gingerly walking on your way to brunch to kill the hangover you've got and feel better about your bruised knee caused by falling 3 times this week since you have no balancing skills when you've been drinking copious amounts of very bad for you drinks because you have a mistaken sense of confidence in being able to handle your liquor brought about by a fantastic hairstyle.

Isn't it nice, the first snow of the season?

Reach Reach Reach

I reach out with my long arms into the night.

That was how me Dad started his book. He never did come up with a second line.

Maybe because there isn't anything to say after that.

I'm in a bubble

I'm in a bubble that started out big. It was a big bubble that rolled and bounced along the pavement and through this bubble I could smell the flowers. They didn't always survive the rain but I could smell them. Now I find that my bubble has shrunk a bit and is starting to stick to my ears and get in my hair. I have a sneaky suspicion that it has something to do with that sharp rock I rolled over. I think the sharp rock put a hole in my bubble and it started leaking. The check tire pressure light came on but quite frankly I didn't do anything about it. Now it's all non-round and floopy. I need to make me another bubble. I need to reset it.

Where's my reset bubble button?

I fell asleep replying to your message last night

As I'm sure you remember I have a habit of doing. You see, I went to Legal Seafoods with the girls and then was stuck in the subway for ages which made me miss the beginning of the debate so I didn't go to Mark's place to watch it with the opinionated intellectuals but instead got cozy on the couch but fell asleep about 3 questions into the thing which was probably a good thing because it was crap and rubbish and I remember hitting the reply button on your message and next thing I know it's 3 am and the phone is still in my hand with an indignant blinking cursor reminding me that there really wasn't a big Sardar breaking into my house and that it was all just a dream.

I seem to be waking up at 3 am a lot these days.

An apple crumble a day is definitely not wot the doctor ordered

I don't know how they got there but suddenly there were 4 apples in my fridge. I don't like apples. When faced with apples, I tend to melt them in the oven with a bit of butter, sugar, flour and graham cracker crumbs. The problem with that is that it leads to me standing in my kitchen barefoot in a nightshirt at 3 am eating apple crumble straight from the baking tin. Which, if you are familiar with my baking skills, generally just means eating mushy apples and blobs of flour held together with butter.

Sigh. It's going straight to my thighs.

Billboard Characters Interact on Toronto Skyscape

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My professional life is fraught with dealing with people like this

They say it's my birthday!

Is it your birthday too?!


So like I've had midnight cake (with flowers thank you very much) and cake at lunch today and I'm going out to dinner with friends tonight and there might be cake there and there's definitely going to be cake at the party this weekend so alls I'm saying, if you're going to get me anything for my birthday, make sure it's not cake.

Black Cobra has confirmed that inhaling helium, while makes for good funny voices, is actually harmful to the lungs so I'm going to have to come up with other party entertainment.

And to all yous who think I'm wierd for carrying around dental floss, I had a lobster roll for lunch. So there.

Presents!

Pain

It starts with a twinge. Just a twinge. Then before you know it, you're howling like an abandoned baby banshee who just wants to be held for a while and fed some warm milk. It's the feeling of utter gut-wrenching nauseating want to tear your own eyeballs out agony that makes you weak in the head and causes your kidneys to spontaneously dysfunction. Sometimes it hurts so bad you want to lie down on the floor and eat a corner of the carpet. Why? Well because it's there. Because it's something you have control over. After you're done, the carpet will be damaged. Torn. Affected. Unlike the source of the disturbing anguish that sucks the living air out of the cells at the back of your throat when you're trying not to scream into your blankie. Oh the blankie understands. The blankie knows you. It will never leave. It might get a bit shredded due to the ravages of time and the ravaging child in you but it'll be there till you throw it out. Not the other way around. So you cling. Cling in mishope of some possibility of fulfillment in the warm, almost suffocating comfort of your blankie. Even the internet fails you. You have to put in something to get something out of the ether. But not the blankie. The blankie will offer itself up as something to squeeze no matter what. Very self-sacrificing that way, blankies are.

Pain hurts man. Sometimes it really just... hurts.

Got my first speeding ticket today

First! $100 for doing a 35 in a 25 zone. No seriously, who drives at 25 mph?! Mean cop was very stern about it. Perfect record ruined now. Boo.

Ate a cheeseburger for dinner. Can't sleep. Prolly over guilt about the cheeseburger. Damn the temptation!

Wish you were here to play games with.

Le Petit-bourgeoisie are stuck in the embouteillage

So the trip to the Cape was fun. Gamma arrived Thursday night and stayed over and we planned to take off around 4 pm on Friday only one of the Partners was so anxious about us sitting in traffic that he kicked us out of the office at 2. Which wasn't such a bad thing, given that it then took us only 3 hours to get to Orleans. We sang show tunes most of the way and debated the pros and cons of our respective travel guides (I had the Fodors and Gamma had the Rough Guide). Marie slept.

The Inn was lovely. Low ceilings and potpourri wreaths and paisley wallpaper. It's right on the cove so that was peaceful. Of course, the minute we arrived, the first thing we did was go to the TJ Maxx across the street. You can take the girls to the country but you can't get them to stop shopping.

We ate lots of seafood (which was quite disappointing in the end actually), climbed the Pilgrim Monument (yes, me too!), took lots of pictures, went whale watching (saw 7 humpbacks!), slept, took lots of pictures, and hung out at the beach (not as much as I'd like to). The ride back was uneventful only Marie kept shifting from one lane to the other on the way to Sagamore Bridge which was pointless because traffic wasn't moving more than 20 mph and so therefore we got lots of strange looks from everybody else. I spent most of the time counting net pods on trees on the drive in. Very entertaining.

Well, that's the update. Yes, I know it's not much but hey, you asked :)

Only $89,500

Think it might be too much for a birthday present?

It's a pity that vehicular manslaughter is wrong

ACTUAL LETTER TO PROCTOR AND GAMBLE

This is a letter written to one of the top executives at Proctor and Gamble. Means a bit more to the gals than the guys.

Dear Mr. Thatcher,

I have been a loyal user of your Always maxi pads for over 20 years and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the LeakGuard Core(tm) or Dri-Weave(tm) absorbency, I'd probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I'd certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favourite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a little F-16 in my pants. Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from "the curse"? I'm guessing you haven't. Well, my ‘time of the month’ is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I'll be transformed into what my husband likes to call "an inbred hillbilly with knife skills." Isn't the human body amazing? As Branch Manager in the Feminine-hygiene Division, you've no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers' monthly visits from "Aunt Flo". Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behaviour. You surely realize it's a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend's testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey's Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy! The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants... which brings me to the reason for my letter.

Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi-pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: "Have a Happy Period".

"Are you f…..g kidding me?" What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness - actual smiling, laughing happiness - is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything "happy" about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Walgreen's armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory.

For the love of God, pull your head out, man! If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like "Put Down the Hammer" or "Vehicular Manslaughter Is Wrong", or are you just picking on us? Sir, please inform your Accounting Department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flex-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bullshit. And that's a promise I will keep... Always.

Read it here.

Trip to the Cod: And we're off!

Gemma arrived yesterday and I went to get her from South Station. It was pouring rain and I was stuck in Burlington (went to investigate curtains) in traffic 30 mins before her train got in but I managed to get there in time. I drive like the wind, LIKE THE WIND!

So we're all sitting here in the office nervously jiggling our feet and watching the clock and checking traffic updates every 3 seconds (or maybe that's just me) and raring to go and I think we'll be leaving around 2 pm. One of the partners suggested we get on the road to beat traffic (as if there's such thing) so hey, that's good enough encouragement for me.

Had my used-to-be-regular sushi lunch with the Bullfrog at the MIT food court by the COOP which was really nice. Met Ashan there. That guy is everywhere! If you were here, I'd be lunching with you.

There're only 3-4 others here in the office today on account of Joy's funeral. I didn't go. I didn't think I'd be able to not cry considering I was howling on the drive back from Wilmington the day she passed.

So the bags are packed and in the car only I've forgotten to bring any books so a quick stop home to pick some up and maybe another one at the store to get some drinks and snacks and we should be Cape Cod-bound soon. Stupid Black Cobra is only coming tomorrow afternoon but no matter! We shall eat lots of seafood tonight and go whale-watching tomorrow morning (she gets sea sick)!

Off we go! Yay! I like mini-breaks!

Hah, finished!

That was ridiculously simple. Of course, I've prolly got it all wrong and my manager will probably kick me off the team for being a twit but hey, at least I got it done.

I also got started on the Change Management article for CIO.com. Ahead of deadline too, aren't you proud?

I'm watching Mind of Mencia and he just screamed something really funny which I wish you were here to share with. According to Carlos here, he's a true American for eating beef because wot cows do is they fart and release methane gas which is causing global warming and wot vegetarians do is eat valuable plants that creates oxygen for the rest of us to breathe. So, us carnivores are eating the problem and you veggies are eating the solution.

I thought you would get a kick outta that :)

Guests don't bring potatoes

It's amazing to wot lengths I will go to to avoid doing work.

So like, yesterday was fun. Watched OS 117: Le Caire nid d'espions yesterday with Nagina, Chi, Pey and Emily at the Kendall. Hilarious movie. I'd watch it again. Highly recommended. Jean Dujardin is not too heavy on the eyes either. After the movie we went to Tosci's (of course) where I, against my better judgement ate some ice cream and therefore was in tummy pain all the rest of the evening.

Then we bought Thai food and a bottle of champagne and lounged about on Emily's roof deck with fantastic views of the Charles and Cambridge. Her view is so much nicer than mine. Maybe I should move towards the river. Then we did dirty dirty things involving a Handi-Vac. Don't ask.

So like, remember that ROI presentation that's due tomorrow that I've been putting off for 3 weeks? I still haven't done it. But I did watch The Truman Show, took a 3 hour nap, watched Fiona caught on camera and cleaned the flat. Watching the 1996 Peter Gallagher Titanic now with a tomato salad and a lovely sunset.

Damn, suppose I should get to it then. How was the bonfire?

"Si! Perfecto!"

What is the point of the chap in the Barilla Plus ad? No really, he doesn't cook, he doesn't lay the table, he does not contribute at all other than just standing there looking all hot and Italian.

It does make me want to rush out and buy pasta so it must be working to my demographic.

I just had soy milk

Soy milk is an evil vile liquid. Evil and vile! It tastes awful! I'm going back to cow's milk. Tummy aches be damned!

Proceed to the Fast Bag Drop Off

So like yes, I know I haven't written in a while but I was busy working and healing and playing with Mingus. Yes, all of that does give me lots of blog-worthy material but.. hey.. I don't have to answer to you. I'll blog when I want to. So there! Sppth!

Mingus is off to Israel for a week then India for 3. How depressing. Without me too. Doubly depressing.

So apparently, I'm lactose intolerant. This I find out after years of drinking milk and not knowing why my tummy hurts. Bet Mum didn't see that one coming. Turns out, I've prolly always been lactose intolerant. No more icecream :(

Way to early to go to work now. Think I'll watch JAG for a bit.

Oh boo, I'm bored without Mingus.

Yes, I know, I need to blog

But I'm busy!

"Pomfret! Pomfret? You have pomfret? Grilled?"

Was wot Pops was screaming at the South Indian Fish Market people at dinner today. I'm serious. He actually walked upto the cook and yelled "POMFRET?!" in his face.

Now I know you're going to like this

I highly recommend you listen to Daaku Daddy. While the song makes me want to throw something heavy at the tele, I'm sure you'll get a kick outta Shakti Kapoor being a Daaku Daddy.

More from the same artiste who is clearly a musical genius:
Chap in bathtub getting his hair washed by girl in tight t-shirt and bindi and I hope to god some pants but you really can't tell. Girl says:
"Aye heep hopper mujhe pyaar to aye heep hopper
Meri pyaar ki duniya mein, meri love ki duniya mein, ek pappi do na sir"

Then the hip hopper goes:
"Kya tu pak rahi hai
Kaise tap rahi hai
Khopdi pak rahi hai
Ruk ruk ruk
Baksheesh bhi diya hai
Bonus bhi diya hai
chahiye tujhko kya hai
Phut phut phut"

Then the girl says something about "tere ghar mein bartan shartan maanjti hu barabar". So, evidently, she's the bai types.

Further confirmed by the Heep Hopper who sings to himself:
"Maybe but she's hot like Rekha..
But she ain't gonna find my favour...
How can I'm a star hip hopper..
She's my bai, just a part time naukar"

Ishq Bector is his name, would you believe.

Coming home is not the same thing as Homecoming

So like, every time I used to land in Dubai, it used to feel like I was coming home. Even standing in that god-awful line with all dem smellys didn't bother me as much because I would grin at the immigration burkha and tell her I was a resident quite proud that I was not going to be another candidate she calls for her compatriot dishdash to haul off by the scruff of their neck to have their papers examined in another room. No, not me, I would be asked where I was coming from, a look would be glanced off my face and my passport would be stamped. In some completely random spot, mind you. I don't know why immigration people never stamp chronologically in order of pages. Would be so much easier to find that one date when you transited through Germany.

But I didn't transit through Germany. I went through Heathrow. And no, it wasn't Terminal 5 so don't get too excited. I think it might be on the trip back though.

So I was saying, that this time it didn't feel like I was coming home. Maybe it was because I had an awful flight with the bumpiness and the discomfort and the no sleeping and the babies screaming (I did take the seafood meal option which wasn't so bad). I didn't have to stand in line at all (mornings are the best time to land at DXB) and bag didn't get lost and Mum was there waiting doing that hunching shoulder thing and Pops was outside trying to hide in the trunk of the car (don't be alarmed - his car has a large trunk) and it was all very cute and nice. Which lasted about the time it takes to get out of the airport onto the main street. Then it began. They started telling me wot to do.

It hasn't quite ended yet. They're still doing it. Both of them. It's taking away the fun of homecoming. On the bright side they have already attacked my appearance, my weight, my marital status, my cooking, my sleeping habits, my clothes, my choice of profession, my lack of business sense, my frivolous spending habits and my general lack of civic duty towards them and their impending penury and uncertain housing situation. There isn't much left. The next few days should be smooth sailing in comparison.

So then we went to Irani hospital to file papers and give blud to get a new health card and then today we went to pick up the blud report (no communicable diseases, thank Allah!) and to the immigration office to get typing done and get a new residence visa all of which took about 23 minutes in total activity time. And yes, they do give you the visa the same day. And now did you know, one doesn't have to make the bi-annual pilgrimage back to 311. One can simply, not go. One's father will have to pay an AED 120 fine and get a letter saying you couldn't come when you do go but you will feel less guilty about it now that you can spot him the bucks and more importantly, because you have realized that coming home isn't the same thing as homecoming.

Oh, and I did get an eGate card so now I don't have to stand in line with the smellys anymore. I can breeze on through with a thumb and a wave.

There are 7 days to the US Embassy appointment. I suppose I could always go somewhere. Where is good for a 7 day trip?

Tonight's dinner conversation topics

With Joe and Gabriel and Jean and Mark over a New England boiled dinner with banana creme pie for dessert:

Television screen sizes, Obama, Spitzer, child abuse, catholic schools, French teachers, waitresses, Jesus Christ Superstar, Andrew Lloyd Webber, prostitution, dumb questions children ask, Haiti, Tahiti, Peru, Argentina, German Nazis in exile in Argentina, DNA analysis, Luminol, Argentinian bolos, the size of Joe's balls, identical twins committing crimes, identical triplets, identical triplets committing crimes, the last quarter of the Superbowl, Mr. Peterson the cat, strippers, life in the suburbs, strip clubs, child pornography, schizophrenia, voting, the Dominican Republic, Indian food, Shabu Shabu, nonsense TSA regulations, old movies and how I had never eaten a turnip until tonight.

Can't remember the last time I laughed this much.

If I was paranoid, I would see a link between these two news stories

First I read this one...

February 04, 2008
Good Health Is Bad for Business
When Consumers Don't Sneeze, K-C and Other Tissue, Medicine Manufacturers Catch Cold (Sales)
After years of media worry over the threat of avian flu or some other long-overdue flu pandemic, a few marketers are facing a difficult reality: This isn't shaping up to be the year of the big bug or even of many little ones.

Then I read this one...

March 13, 2008
A flu warning from the ER
"As an emergency physician and chief of the emergency department at Tufts Medical Center, I don't need news stories to know that this year's flu season is turning into a bad one; all I have to do is look around my hospital's emergency department and talk with my colleagues to see that many are overloaded with seriously ill flu patients."

Good thing I'm not paranoid. I am however recovering from the odd flu that's hit most of Massachusetts. Yes, laying of Tosci's icecream would help. No, that's not an option. Yes, I'm eating mango sorbet as we speak. Sppth.

My sofas are very overstuffed

I now have furniture, you may be pleased to know. Couches and wot not. My sofas have bellies. It's very cool. Only thing is that it looks like Paul Bunyan's furniture. And I feel a bit like Thumbelina. It's stupidly comfortable though. But very large. I thought it would all fit in the living room. I may have been too optimistic.

I could not have side tables I suppose.

So yesterday, a meter maid yelled at me

She did. She actually yelled at me. Alls I was doing was sitting in my car, talking on the phone, at a metered spot, at 5:30 in the evening. Ok, so maybe I didn't actually put any money in the meter but I was sitting there. So she walks up to me car and peers at my license plate and then yells at me. I'm not exacly sure wot she was yelling about. Something about giving tickets to people who park at metered spots and talk on cell phones without putting money in the meter. Then she walked away. Which was even more confusing.

But I'm flabbergasted. She actually yelled at me.

The mystery of IT help desk personnel

So I don't know if you've noticed this but most all IT help desk people are skinny short white chaps with pasty skin and spiky hair. At least all of them at my current client site are. It's true. They're all about 5'5". They all spike their hair. Look vaguely Israeli. Are always addressed by their last names. Skinnier than Resh (and you have to admit, Resh is pretty skinny). Skin so pasty you wonder if they've been eating hog feed. (Yes, I know that last one was gross). Which I don't quite understand. Admittedly the cafeteria smells like animals (btw, I just found out what the smell is around here - it's the smell of cooking animal feed) but the food isn't so bad. They had biscuits and gravy with sausage for breakfast yesterday. And there are windows in the IT department. I know, I've been there. There is sunlight. It's all very odd. They wear bell bottom jeans and striped t-shirts with heavy black boots. It's a whole new culture there.

It's almost like they're.... aliens.... or something.

Maybe not the Gaza Strip area

I think I've finally recovered from the wedding madness that was January. Had a company offsite in Florida (Clearwater beach, very nice) as well. Put the travel bug back in my body as with the prospect of being grounded until June (I'm grounded until June) is making me want to travel more. Given that I have just spent pretty much the entire morning being thrown out of one room after another at my client site because they have no space for me, I figured blogging would help me feel less irritated.

So here are travel plans for the next few months. I was thinking New York for President's Day weekend. Time to redeem those SPG points. Plus can then drive to Black Cobra's in Noo Jerzey and drop off her boxes and pick up my suitcases (She moved her things you see. In my bags. Now I have to go retrieve them. And I sent her car off, you know. With all her things in it. But 3 boxes wouldn't fit. So I have to drop them off. Are you all caught up now? Good).

And then off to Dubai again end March and some of April. From there to my very first proper vacation to a foreign land as an earning adult. Are you ready for this? I'm going to Israel!

Yes, very exciting, I know! Lots of places in Israel will be visited! Along with the Dead Sea! I shall make a list! And look up places to stay! And transportation options! Hah! It will be fun! I'm very thrilled! It's another project! And this one definitely involves making lists! And one that I can make the decisions on! Hah! I love it! I shall get a mud wrap!

Do you want to come?

"Clicks have doubled to 250 from 0 in 3 months"

I'm liking the beach. I learned how to make a sand sculpture from professional sand sculpturers. Who knew that there was such a profession. There has been some long boring sessions. Lots of mojitos. Some frolicking on the beach. Lots of drinking by the beach. Lots of chit chat. Plenty of networking. Some laughs. Some loneliness. And more mojitos.

Sadly leaving early tomorrow afternoon. Would have been nice to stay here the entire weekend. Nice to wake up to sounds of waves.

Should come back to Clearwater and Sand Key. It's really nice here.

Yes, in case you were wondering, I am in Florida.

Back from Dubai

So like, Black Cobra is married. I thought you might like to know. The wedding was fun. Lots of work. Poor feet were quite dead from it. But it went over well. Ish. She's in Hawaii now. Being married and all. I'm back in Boston.

Yes, I know I should give details but just thinking about it tires me out.

I'll post pictures when they're out. Meanwhile, happy Sunday.

If there ever was a reason to join a gym

I hate running. This is because I have bad feet. I especially hate running with 6 lbs on my back along the entire bloody length of Terminal 4 with snarky British Airways useless staff gleefully revelling in the fact that I'm going to miss my connecting flight and be stuck in stupid London for god knows how long when alls I want to do is be home in my bed in Boston getting my rest on ready for work at the crack of bleedin' dawn tomorrow.

Can I just say, British Airways staff are the most useless I've ever met. Yes, they're worse than Delta. Now you may ask how is it that ANYBODY could be worse than Delta but let me assure you - BA is worse than Delta. Makes Delta seem almost Swiss-like in comparison. They won't let you off the plane first, won't get you one of those nifty beeping golf carts, won't let you get through security first and definitely won't let you go ahead in line at the transfers desk. Well, it's not as much as they won't let you but they won't do anything to help you. They shrug their shoulders and say non-committal inane things like, 'it's a bit optimistic... I wouldn't count on it'. That has got to be the most unhelpful things to say.

Anwyay. My feet hurt now. Terminal 4 is very long. Explain again why do I have to get off one flight and then go through security again to get on another flight? Why is there no tunnel from the gates to other gates? How much of a cut is BA getting from duty free shopping for this?

Also must stop travelling with 4 lb laptop and 3 lbs of gold. Yes, you heard me. 3 lbs of gold. Blast you Black Cobra. Should've just melted it down into one gold ingot and buried it in the back yard like sensible people do. Not to mention the fact that I have to now go home and painfully separate and categorize and fit it nicely into individual containers.

They better not lose my bags.

Anyway. Black Cobra, you may or may not like to know, is now married. She even looks married. There is a distinct married-like quality about her. She's in Hong Kong now and has sent me a very nice long email but since Terminal 4, gate 22 has no bleedin' wireless signal, I will have to read it (and post this post) when I get home. Prolly won't happen till tomorrow morning seeing as I still have to pick up a rental car and won't get home until past midnight. Don't hold your breath.

They're calling my flight now. Oi, my knees have locked. Can I just say, there have been 3 bloody beeping golf carts laden with people who look perfectly capable of walking that have arrived at gate 22. Who do you have to sleep with to get a beeping cart at Heathrow?!