Soupy, soupy twist

So like I went to see Hugh Laurie play the blues with his Copper Bottom Band last week.  As is characteristic, while I had it on my diary for about 2 months, I bought the show ticket the day before the event on StubHub and therefore had to pay an ungodly amount.  I was sucker enough to pay 3x the face value and someone out there was clever enough to capitalize on it.  People should do studies on latifs like me to determine my willingness to pay for non-committance.  Oh wait, they already do.

So off I go to the quirky Wilbur to sit on table B, seat 4.  Pleased I am to see that it is 10 feet from the piano (see picutre for proof).  We all know our man plays the piano.  Excitement levels increase at the thought of being so close to celebrity crush while he croons.  Don't even mind sharing table with nice woman and husband and son.

Told Nice Woman that she could be Peter O'Toole's sister while making small talk before show begins (as you do).  Turns out that NW is Hugh Laurie's sister.  Both have faces like horses so should have known.  NW only found out that little brother was playing in Boston the day before so they high-tailed it from Pittsburgh or some such to buy scalped tickets (also for exorbitant price) to see him in action.  Mewonders if there is no love lost there.  Still, she was all very excited to be there and that was nice to see.

The crowd was very mixed.  Young ones and old ones, pressed ones and hippie ones, black ones and white ones.  I tried not to get too annoyed with them (especially the young ones) for encroaching on what should obviously be a private moment between me and Hugh, viz him singing to me, but it was difficult.  Even now, when I think of the phenomenal success the man has become, I feel jealous, almost as if his talent is supposed to be reserved for the enjoyment of those who grew up on P.G. Wodehouse and watched him bring it to life and gleefully stalked him and Fry on the internet and reserved the watching of every single House episode as a secret treat meant only for those deserving after a long week/day/hour of backbreaking consulting work.  Still.  Must share I suppose. 

The show was spectacular.  Vincent Henry played two saxophones at the same time.  Laurie brought on whiskey in little shot glasses to refresh the band.  Sister Jean McClain is now my new favourite person (she sang backup for Tina Turner, you remember).  You should hear her sing.  Kevin Breit did unspeakable things with the guitar (to remind of Peter Tickell and his electric violin at Sting's Back to Bass concert). All throughout the show, Hugh had his eyes either tightly shut concentrating on letting his right foot stomp accentuate the music or gaping at his band members, clearly their biggest fan.  It is so much fun to go to concerts where the folks playing the music are having so much fun.  And the music was lovely too.  All rhythmy and new orleansy and old country and swanee river.  Lovely. 

NW asked how I enjoyed the show after it was all done and dusted.  I told her I was speechless because he was so tremendous.  She seemed pleased to hear that.  I did try and hang about in the hopes that he'd come out to see her and I'd get to talk to him but after a little while of pretending to check my phone and waiting for the crowd to dissipate, it got a little creepy.  Maybe if you were here, we'd have gone together and we'd linger back talking to each other and that would be less groupie.  So basically I'm saying it's your fault I didn't get to meet Hugh Laurie.

Buy the album if you haven't already.  I know you don't like the blues, but buy it anyway.  It has wonderful elements of rhythm and new orleans and old country.  It may even have Swanee River on it.  You can think fondly of me when you hear Buddy Bolden Blues or After You're Gone.  Or even better, Let Them Talk!

A teetotal bachelor with a face like a fish

How do you feel when you marry your ideal?
Ever so goosey, goosey, goosey, goosey.

How do you feel when the bells begin to peal?
Ever so goosey, goosey, goosey, goosey.

Walking up the aisle, in a kind of daze,
Do you get the wind up when the organ plays?

How do you feel when the parson's done the deal?
Ever so goosey, goosey, goosey, goosey.

Jimmy Dean is not my lover. He's just a guy who claims that I am the one.

When life seems full of clouds and rain
And I am filled with nought but pain
Who soothes my thumpin' bumpin' brain........ Nobody!

When winter comes with snow and sleet
And me with hunger and cold feet
Who says, "Here's two bits, go eat"........ Nobody!

I ain't never done nothin' to nobody
And I ain't never got nothin' from nobody, no time
And until I get somethin' from somebody sometime
I don't intend to do nothin' for nobody, no time

When I'm tryin' hard and schemin' a plan
To do the very best I can
Who says, "Look at that handsome man"........ Nobody!

Well all day long things go amiss
And I go home to find some bliss
Who's waitin' there with a lovin' kiss........ Nobody!

I ain't never done nothin' to nobody
And I ain't never got nothin' from nobody, no time
And until I get somethin' from somebody sometime
I don't intend to do nothin' for nobody, no time

Everybody needs their soul saved

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.

All hail the large pink menancing kangaroo

So like, I went to see the Aussie Pink Floyds last night and can I just say... not bad. Not bad at all. Pretty freakin' good actually. As usual I was excited and wanted to get there an hour early to beat the lines but either it was because we actually did get there an hour early or there was such good crowd management that I didn't actually wait in line. We parked in the Shaw's parking lot and so of course I was fretting about having to rescue the car from the tow lot because of course everybody at Shaw's is watching you enter and exit the shop and is keenly aware that you are abusing their 2 hour parking limit. Khan actually hit me over the head when I expressed such concerns.

So I had #24 and they had #s 5 and 6 and you would think that grown men and women would understand the everybody-move-over-one concept but we actually had an usher come to sort out the fuss because people got confused. Remind me not to be smart at a Pink Floyd tribute show. These people have obviously smoked up what little grey cell power they had. Anyway, two chaps were talking too loud behind us so we moved away to emptier sections. Yes, I had trouble hearing the music. Yes, even at that volume. Look it IS possible. Section 113, Row P, Seats 5 and 6 shame on you for ruining opening riffs for me. Floyd music is all about the damn opening riffs.

So after all this excitement, I actually fell asleep for bits of the first half. Before you get all up in arms about it recognize that everybody knows that the first half is rubbish and it's only after the break when the band's had a chance to drink some and smoke some do they truly get into their element. And speaking of smoking some, the fog in the arena was quite think with fumes can I just say. It still surprises me when folks light up at concerts in the States. I mean, it's more illegal here than in India isn't it? Anyway, I didn't smoke any if that's wot you're thinking. I was scared my dentist would yell at me.

Wot?! Good gum health is important. Mustn't neglect the gums.

Can I just say, I think Steve Mac is bloody brilliant. He sounds just like David Gilmour. They did try to put their own spin on some stuff but quite frankly they need to stay true to the original.

All in all a good time was had by all in the second bit. That coupled with the lamb shawarma I had for a midnight snack and the memories of kicking some serious ass at work earlier made for a very satisfying day.

I want to be Johnny Kalsi

More than I want to do him. Is that so wrong?

I'm sorry I haven't blogged in a while

I've had to spend some time healing. I'm well on my way now so maybe I'll get on it shortly.

I haven't been completely useless while I've been away. I have learnt the following:

1. Physical therapists are all illegitimate children of the Devil who don't understand the meaning of the words, "don't do that, it hurts".


2. Firemen are very hot and very chivalrous regardless of which precinct they belong to or how old they are.


3. I like mobikes more than I thought I did.


4. Injections in the tough part of the heel of your foot hurt more than you'd think.


5. I have very limited night vision and should avoid driving at night especially in the rain and I would like to sincerely apologize to all the smelly undergrad geeks at MIT who are all also apparently blind AND completely oblivious to road crossing laws.


6. I now live in Mass. and the motorist has absolutely NO right of way. Even on highways.


7. Physical therapists are all illegitimate children of the lawless mistress of the Devil who don't understand the meaning of the words, "no, I can't do that, it hurts".


8. There is no polite, clean or ladylike way to eat a burrito. Even when armed with a knife and fork.


9. Going out for burrito lunches with your boss will result in incessant teasing for the rest of the day because you will not be able to eat your burrito in a polite, clean or ladylike way.


10. The BBC's online radio player sucks. By which I mean that it is engineered with fuckall inferior technology and the IT crew there should jump off the nearest bridge because they have brought shame to the media industry.


11. Punjabi Hit Squad rocks.


12. I want to have Nihal's babies... lots of them.


13. It is ALWAYS a bad idea to make sudden jerky movements when your doctor comes at you with a giant needle aiming for your jaw.


14. NSAIDs will cause nausea regardless of the dosage or quantity of food consumed along with.


15. Orange juice is very bad for nausea.


16. DJ Sanj will never go out of style.


17. Physical therapists are wonderful people who have all sorts of drugs, tools, practices and tricks to fix your body after it's been battered and bruised by the ravages of time and stupidity. That and they're deaf to cries of pain.

Listen to desi dirtiness. I shall write more later.

I do like St. Paul's Cathedral

So, like, you'll be pleased to know (or not, given that you're in an obnoxious mood these days and don't care for my writings anymore) (in which case I wonder why you keep popping by) (because deep down inside you know you adore me) that I have scored a flat. Yessiree bob, I have me a very nice 1 bd/1.5 bth/bney/air/pkg unit right by Central Square for September on. Yay me. It was hell getting it and it's stupidly expensive but at least I'm not homeless and now all we have to do is pray I get the keys before 7 pm on Aug 31 or the movers will have moved me with me not having a place to move to. You are, of course, welcome to visit whenever you like. There will be fluffy towels and lots of chocolate biccies for you.

Was back from Atlanta Thursday night, ran around signing leases on Friday and flew to London Friday night. London is a fantastic city with some very fantastic people. Sadly, I did not get to meet Walshy but perhaps next time. There will be a next time. There will be plenty of next times for I feel strangely drawn to that town. Perhaps it has something to do with all dem chocolate biccies.

Spent the weekend with RK and his clan and the rest of my clan in Rickmansworth. Black Cobra was very pleased to see me as I was to see her and full of Norway stories (remind me to scan in the postcard from the North Cape). Mum bought me a black cardigan and two pashminas which was much appreciated for London can get chilly in the evenings. Pops was in top form which is always good to see. RK's family were loud and plentiful (as usual) and a jolly good time was had by all. Except on Saturday when I sprained my left ankle (yes, again) (don't start on my case now, I'll get the damn surgery when I have the time to get the damn surgery) and was sulking for most of the day. A few quick ones at the Peking Garden and I was alright though. Becoming a member of the Barracuda Club was an added bonus.

Then I went to Horsley in East Surrey for company induction with a bunch of very odd but also amusing people. Horsley, if you've never been there, is by far the smallest village I've seen in a developed country. The people at induction were fine enough and there were a few I wanted to slap a number of times (but didn't). There were also the token drunken half-wits who thought it would be good fun to stagger into sessions hungover and sullen and general pain-in-arses after spending the better part of the night standing on pub benches belting out dirty Swedish jokes about seamen and penises. There was this one awful day when I had to walk 45 minutes to find a shop that sells toothpaste and hobble back on a very swollen foot and the center was a little primitive but it had a castle and a moat and some nice countryside with sheep and lots of gourmet food with gourmet wine and all that so it wasn't so bad.

Back for the weekend in Herts with RK and clan with the highlight of the trip being a visit with The Bean who I've always secretly been in love with and more so now that I've re-found him after 2.5 years. Sadly, he's seeing Malay nephrologists and is therefore not available and that besides the fact that we live on opposite ends of a very vast ocean puts a damper in my plans to have as many babies as I possibly can with him.

Saw many a London landmark but I couldn't possibly tell you about any of them because..well... quite frankly I wasn't in the touristy mood at all. They were very beautiful and memorable but I don't remember them. I think I was a little lonely. Well, I think I was very lonely. Seeing Beans was good for that. I had forgotten how much we had in common and how alike we were. It was refreshing to reconnect with an old pal who I once used to proudly call my twin. He has done very well for himself and seeing him happy made me happy. It also made me envious but mostly happy. He did say something that resonated with me about putting down roots and how we kids from Dubai who are third nationals always wonder about where we come from and where we belong. Before I do so, however, I think I want to do some intense European travelling and possibly living. I need to see more of the world.

I'm at crowded Heathrow now surrounded by annoyingly loud children (why is it illegal to slap other people's nasty kids?) and my BTOpenZone signal is very weak so this post will have to wait until I get back to Boston to be posted.

I did see Bar de lune's 3 cd collection of Punjabi Lounge music at the Duty Free but I think I'll just download it online instead. Bloody hell, I've just remembered I've checked in my headphones. Looks like I'll have to put up with the horrid screamers a little longer.

Back to Atlanta tomorrow early am.

Leave me a nice comment this time.

My lips are very pink

Here I sit loftily on my bed propped up with pillows wrapped up in a blue blanket looking out the window at the distant sky listening to sad French love songs shivering with fever sipping Theraflu craving a cigarette and a cuddle.

Atlanta next week. La vie en Rose is a very good movie.

EMI Moves to non-DRM Music

How again is this going to make EMI more money?

Americans are rather intolerant of nekkidness

Good - Sunshine.
Bad - Dubai's image.
Ugly - Timbaland's Shock Value album.

More bloody papers

I'm getting sick of all this writing papers nonsense. I'd much rather just get up and present, you know?

Ok, I'm just crabby because I can't focus. Blame it on Tranotron. She distracts me with her Vietnam pictures. Now tell me if this isn't the most beautiful face you've seen in ages.

I've got both the Celtic Woman albums to keep me company as I flit around my room spilling Turkish coffee to help me fritter my time away. Can I just say, singing Over the Rainbow in an Irish accent does not make it Celtic music. Why can't they just stick to seaweed songs.

Altogether now! Dulaman na binne bui, dulaman Gaelach... dulaman na farraige, b'fhearr a bhi in Eirinn!

I think he heard me thinking

They've changed the music to Buddha Bar now. Much better.

In other news...

The final details were hammered out over the past week, advertisers were called the night before and Google's Eric Schmidt was reached the morning of NBC and News Corp.'s blockbuster announcement about a joint online video venture. After months of speculation, News Corp. and NBC Universal announced this week that they would create an online distribution system together for TV content. And by partnering with portals AOL, MSN, Yahoo and MySpace, the yet-unnamed distribution venture would reach 94% of the U.S. Internet audience.

Article here.

So like, I'm sitting at Harvard Ave. Cafe enjoying my Friday off and sipping my Earl Grey and surfing their free wireless and gazing lasciviously at the banana nut muffin on the counter and I have to ask - why do all cafes that want you to linger and spend a couple of hours there with the comfy couches and the indie art on the walls ALWAYS and without exception play Bob Marley? Is there a secret underground cafe network that dictates this? I swear, in any city in the U.S., they're all playing Bob Marley. Marley sales rise everytime a new cafe opens up. I wonder if they know this. Maybe the Marley people secretly own a piece of every such cafe in the U.S. That would be a good business model.