Is this bruschetta? I don't think so.

What you do is take the fresh bakery rolls, pop them in the over and bake them.  Then you slice them in half and brown them in a skillet with butter until they're crispy and browned.  While that's happening, you coarsely chop tomatoes, basil, avocado and toss with salt, pepper, a little balsamic vinegar, lemon olive oil.  Then you take the bread, crispy side up, pour over the tomato mix, top with a bit of mozz cheese and broil until your kitchen smells all buttery toasty.

Then you eat breakfast.

"This will be too much food for you madam"

It all started with paneer tikkas. They were large and square and thick. I ate them. Then came the sheekh kababs. I ate them. With very thick yoghurt atop which was arranged finely chopped cucumbers, tomatoes and onions. I ate it all. With two roomali rotis. And then kaali daal. I ate that. With two papads. Then came a giant thing of pheerni in a clay katori. I ate that. Washed it down with a salt lime soda.

Feeling quite sick now. Think I'll go lie down for a bit.

No, no, of course my feet don't hurt... plonk

Ok, so I don't really plonk when I fall down but I got tired of thud.

Such lovely weather. Fog as far as the eye can see which is not far given there's fog as far as the eye can see…

CRO investor conference webinar today. Bank large complicated RFI to be filled in before week's end. Possible PMO work at SOZE! All things that at the surface sound very boring but if you think about them hard turn out to be not so bad actually. Absolutely nothing happening in the CME or mobile space which of course is my core focus but such is the life of a brain for hire. We go where there is fish.

Feets quite bad but it is only I to blame for I may have brought upon evil eye by going around saying "my feet don't hurt". That and I walked back (and forth) from Harvard Square on cobblystones (damn things) on Saturday. And stood for about an hour at the wine tasting at Central Bottle yesterday. They served, among other things, 1) semolina pasta tossed with lemon, salt, butter and thyme and, 2) hazelnuts rolled in honey from bees who feed on avocado plants and dipped in dark chocolate. It is the nuts after they have been rolled in honey, not the bees, that are dipped. Very nice.

First acupuncture appointment today with PJ for the plantar fasciitis. Wish us luck. We are scared. We don't like pain. Or needles. Especially needles that cause pain.

Plants growing out of their pots and will have to be repotted into bigger ones soon. Very thrilling.

BBQ at Big Nick's on Saturday to which I will take the train because I intend to get happy drunk on wine coolers - such fun.

First violin lesson on Sunday for which I will need the following items - music stand, Suzuki Book 1, metronome with attached tuner and staff paper - all of which seem like needless expenses but I shall buy anyway because Alexis the Violin Teacher scares me a little.

The Complete Plays of George Bernard Shaw belonging to one dead grandfather unearthed from pile of books and given to book binder to resurrect - it's like getting something new that's also something (very) old. Book binder is slightly insane man named Robert Walker who likes to throw his patents for various medical devices (and a cigarette filter) in your face when you walk in the door. He put the word "horses" next to my name on the receipt. I don't quite know what to think about that. Sadly, I did not take a before picture. I shall post an after one.

I sit on my balcony smelling faintly of Bengay sipping homemade mocha marvelling at the wireless reception.

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.

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.

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.

"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!

"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.

When in doubt, order a sammich

Pepperoni
Tuna salad
Ceasar salad
Olives
Seasoned croutons
Pasta salad

This, while tasty individually, is an awful combination of things to eat at the same time. Especially for lunch.

Ah, Atlanta

With its omnipresent fried chicken joints, most of them at the airport, assaulting my delicate nostrils with the aroma of all things bad for you.

I'm hungry.

On my way back home to Boston. Sitting at the very busy AirTran gate. Going white water rafting in Maine this weekend. And also moving boxes from bedroom into kitchen to make way for Meg's things to move into my room so Kim can move into hers. Advantage Realty (my godawful broker) was very pain-in-the-arse like with this entire getting me a new apartment experience and I swear it is the most useless $1650 I have ever spent in my entire life. If you're moving to Boston, beware the broker. I've never met one that was actually good. So boxes and heavy furniture has to be moved around this weekend and I actually get to move in on the 3rd. That move I have movers for. Now if I only had a doily IN the apartment, it wouldn't be so bad.

There's a storm moving in. Joy. I'll bet my 5:59 pm flight does not take off on time. Why I expect it to do so, I don't know.

I shall read my Wired now.

Must not bitch-slap collegues

Even when they're being snotty and nasty and generally bitchy.

Can I just say though, it's nice to be back home in Boston. Landed last night. Flight was delayed 1.5 hrs (thank you AirTran) and went to bed tired and hungry thinking to myself that I'd better start getting used to this and that it was so nice to be back home in Boston. Heavenly Beds notwithstanding. Don't get me wrong, I love the Westin and the fact that I can lounge about nekkid but there's nothing like one's own satin sheets, knowwotimean? Sadly I don't think I'll have time to go sailing this weekend either.

I have an office to myself today which is nice so I don't have to worry about people peering over my shoulder and if dem bitches get really annoying, I can always close the door.

That ham and cheese croissant I had for breakfast was so good, I think I'll have another for lunch.

Lots of packing to do this weekend. Would be nice to get some friends together though. Wot are your plans?

I hate phlegm

Dinner at Tasca's. Yay. Tapas always make me feel better.

Everyone is a refugee at the U.S. Consulate

So like, Dubai is nice. It's hot. Averages 32 C. Which is around 102 F for you non-conformists. Lots of fogging up of glasses and dust in the distance. Lovely.

All the air conditioners were serviced the other day. Which involved taking a water pressure thingy to the outside fan units to clean out all the dirty grimy dust. Which looked like a lot of fun. I wanted to do it too. But they didn't let me, those service people, party poopers. So I watched eagerly instead. To also ensure that they didn't make off with the family jewels, of course. Me Mum is convinced that everybody that steps into the house steals a knife or a bra or the screw top cover of the hot fluids cup you keep for your car.

Went to the U.S. Embassy yesterday to get my visa extended which they did rather nicely. I was the last one to be interviewed and was only asked 3 rather mundane questions which I was annoyed about because I'd been there for 3.5 hrs at that point and would have preferred a thorough grilling as to my immigatory intentions to make all the waiting worthwhile. I did take a book, yes, but it got tedious after a while. And no, nobody raised an eyebrow at me for reading a book on Khomeni at the U.S. Consulate so you can calm down, Black Cobra. I was nearly run over by a bunch of very excitable Arab women who seemed to be convinced that fighting their way to the front of the line would guarantee them a visa to the infidel country. I nearly smacked one of them which, funnily enough, elicited laughter from the Nepali security guards. Should've stamped their toes at least. Maybe next time.

Speaking of which, BC, you needs to tell me when you want me to come back stateside so I can book my tickets.

We spend our evenings at RK's house playing snooker. Well, they play snooker. I get snookered. Which means I mostly sit in a corner and giggle. Went to my favorite place, the Fruit and Vegetable Market yesterday and bought 3 boxes of mangoes and one of papayas and one of pomegranates and have been juicing ever since. It's quite entertaining.

Everybody is very excited about the Norwegian Fjord cruise they're going on next month. Pops, unfortunately, has started worrying about the packing. Mind you, there's 40 odd days to go but still. He wants to take Sh. Mo's picture, my degrees and certificates, two large floor standing speakers and lots of warm woolies. I told him that the fjords are not freezing in July but he won't listen. I've told him that you're going to do his packing this time, Black Cobra. Hah.

Tomorrow perhaps I go to the British Embassy to get my UK visa. While I'm at it, I might get a Schengen and one for Mexico and one for Canada as well. Just in case the bug bites me.

Spoke to Artraj yesterday which was fun. Curry is coming down next month but I miss her. The folks at BBDO need to be visited (or do they?). Mahima should be coming down sometime soon.


I've been working on the stamp collection. Making auction lots and cataloging and sorting and all that sort of stuff. It is rather engaging. I recommend it. Also, if you want to purchase some lovely collectible stamps from the Middle East, Asia and/or Europe, let me know. I just might have something you'd like. As you can see from the picture, I have the coveted set (not one, but two!) of 4 of the Jabal Ali Earth Station issued in 1975.

I shall go read Khomeni now. BC, don't forget, the 35th wedding anniversary approaches.

Viva Las Vegas!

Graduation was exciting. RK and Jean came from London and Pops and Black Cobra drove up from NYC. It rained most of the time. Hotel Commonwealth botched up their suite and the poor things had to be relocated to the horrid Sheraton downtown for one night but at least they sorted it out the next day and had the rooms ready. They were so apologetic that we managed to get the limo I'd been wanting to book but was unavailable so that was nice. The Family did get a little annoying with multiple requests for ham sammiches for which Black Cobra and I had to traipse around in the rain for but it was good of them to come and we did have champagne and the limo and Bombay Club for dinner after so it was all good.

The ceremony was very exciting. I was a bit bummed about getting the wrong color tassel but the folks at the GPO sorted that out. Pins were borrowed because I have an unusually small head and the mortarboard wouldn't sit. The speeches were lacking quite frankly. And Ivers went on and on about donating the gowns for the next graduating class and even though he put in a Scottish bit for me, it was a little boring after a while. The keynote was completely useless. Black Cobra, bless her heart, kept the fun levels up regardless. Drove all the way back to NYC in the rain that night she did, poor thing.

Then to Vegas the next day. United Airways managed to muck about with our flights as well so we were stuck in Philly for 5 hours longer than we wanted to be. Pops kept wanting to go out to smoke which meant that we went in and out of security about 3 times. They looked at us very suspiciously. We sat at the food court and ate chips and did crossword puzzles. It was very boring. Plus the people in Philly are ugly.

Finally reached Vegas and the lovely lovely Bellagio with our standard suite on the 34th ready and inviting. The next day saw some shopping (-$66) and some gambling ($-12k). Went to Gandhi for dinner and the food was appalling which is odd because they're usually quite good. The Strip's changed a bit. Aladdin's been bought out and remodeled as Planet Hollywood and there's lots of construction happening with the new City Center place and condos and wotnot. Bellagio's got the flower spring theme so it's drowning in fresh roses everywhere and so of course I want to take them all and pack 'em in my bag and bring 'em back to Boston with me. We do have a lovely large vase full in the living room. Very nice. I oo and aa in my head all the time. Khan would love it here.

More gambling today (+$2k) and off we go with mine host, Olly, to see The Mansion at the MGM Grand. I may not have mentioned Olly to you before. He's hot. I met him for the first time at the Bellagio's art gallery at the Monet exhibit. I wanted to do him then. He's got a little paunchy after his girlfriend moved in with him and he looks stressed out and is greying at the edges and I still want to do him. Since that won't happen, I'll just dream dirty dreams of him.

So The Mansion is the exclusive, secluded, unknown and unadvertised villas at the MGM. As Olly said when we walked in, "if you don't know about this place, you don't need to know about this place." There was a Ferrari, a Raybach, a few BMWs, two Benzs and two Ducatis parked outside for guest usage. I like to imagine Olly offering to go on a ride with me on the Strip but that could just be another dirty dream. They have 29 villas so very secluded from each other, we must have seen about 2 people there and they were fully booked. There's an indoor atrium about 4 stories high where the temperature is maintained at a constant 75 degrees throughout the year. The pool area is the only area that is open to the outside and also the only area (besides your villa of course) where you can smoke. That's right, Vegas has banned smoking in public places. Go figure. The villas itself come in contemporary skyloft style or old English antique with indoor pools, heated bathroom floors, wireless everything and Steinway pianos. There is a private theatre screening room and conference facility at your disposal as well as a lovely restaurant manned by two award-winning chefs. And they're good too - we had lobster in spicy sauce, chicken kung pao, massive baked prawns, wontons-the-size-of-my-small-head soup and lovely petit fours for lunch. Listening to the sounds of the fountains in the atrium feeling the cool breeze scented with the hint of lemon (they have trees in there with giant lemons). Even the lemonade tasted gourmet with a hint of raspberry and ginger. RK thinks we might stay there next time around. I would like that. You can bring your own personal chef because the villas have fully stocked kitchens and he'd like that. Negi won't like it - there's no tandoor for him and he doesn't speak much English. But that's never stopped us before.

They've all pottered off to sleep now. I think I'll go read my book and look at the fountains from the living room window.

Oh fer Pete's sake

The strange thing about being done with finals is that one is besieged with conflicting emotions. On one hand, we're pleased we don't have to study anymore. On the other hand, we're bored out of our minds. Yes, I know it's only been a few days but I can't just sit around with nothing to do.

Wednesday evening celebrations started at Cornwalls (where else), moved on to An Tua Nua with some very bad singing on the karaoke and then back to Cornwalls (where else). I should have bought stock in that place. Didn't drink much since was still a bit hungover from the day before (which would explain the C I get on that final) and pottered on home at 10:30. Did brunch at the diner with Khan on Thursday, bummed around, drank some more. Went for a whisky tasting at the Lenox with Peter and a few others. That was fun. I was ushered into the room by a screamingly gay waiter in pink underwear under his requisition blacks prancing around with a giant white feather. A Chivas Ginger was thrust into my hand, a crab cake into my face and the party was on. Glitter bikini-clad women with giant feathers on their heads popped up and jiggled around much to the delight of all the sad suits and the cabana boys obliged the other sad suits. Can I just say, there's nothing sadder than a 35-yr old investment banker who desperately wants to get laid. Man or woman. I did learn a little bit about whisky and a few very bad Scottish jokes (Why do Scotsmen chop their toes off? To get closer to the bar) and got to sample some 18-yr old Scotch. Very nice. Then Peter and I couldn't take the man in the skirt yelling at DJ Certified Bananas to "pump up the volume, you slimy bastard" anymore and we pottered off to the Hong Kong at Fanueil Hall. On the way out we bumped into Mr. and Mrs. Shaw, freshly arrived from Scotland, a lovely 70-ish year old couple, all wrinkly and kind looking who Peter promptly told to go to Newport, RI and leave the wife at home. After this piece of shocking behaviour we giggled our way to Government Center where at the Hong Kong, more booze was consumed while Pete and Aaron (who runs a belly-dancing supplies shop, how exciting) told me stories of floating down rivers in inner tubes of tractor tires carting about 800 cases of beer. These stories proved too much for me at one point and I insisted we play bar-side games and so we spent a massive fortune in quarters at the nekkid wimmen version of Where's Waldo with self always getting the bits about the chick's hair at which point Aaron deemed me unworthy (since I couldn't spot a boob) and shoved me into a taxicab with a teriyaki on a stick. All in all, a good time was had by all.

Did brunch at the diner with Khan on Friday, scorned the drink, bummed around at Harvard Ave Cafe and finally started reading Jews, God and History (Max Dimont), purchased August 2006 at Denver airport but never had time to open. Interesting book. Very complicated. Khan, bless him, ordered a Vanilla Soy Matte which turned out to be the worst piece of crap I've ever tasted that has been served in a cup with foam. If you are ever faced with it, decline. Do so expeditiously and be not lured by curiosity. It's a horrible drink. Dre had her birthday party here last night and while the upside is that the apartment looks very pretty, cosy and clean, the downside is that people decided that they wanted to pop crackers at 3:30 am INSIDE the apartment. This is because they were stupidly drunk and had to be shepherded outside onto the street where they promptly became Someone Else's problem. Didn't sleep very well last night. Had strange dreams. Lay about, reading, mostly. Still is nice to be in bed swiping one's leg against soft cool sheets, know wot I mean? Khan was mumbling something about how marbles are the fifth dimension but he was in a food coma after having visited that den of vice, India Dhaba, so we forgave him. I did watch Anita and Me yesterday on brilliant NetFlix. Good movie. Nicely done.

I couldn't lie in bed anymore so I've moved to the couch. It's gotten windy, cloudy and 59 degrees suddenly. My wind chime by the window has orchestral aspirations and the curtains billow more often than they did yesterday. I shall sit here now, in my jammies, and read my email and watch Saturday morning cartoons with my cuppa sulaimani. Only two things on the official agenda - Swimming and Giselle at the Boston Ballet. That is if I can get tickets. Although considering the rate at which funds are being depleted from underneath my mattress, I prolly should lay low and cheap until Vegas. Oo, that sounded dirty.

Need more tea.

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.

"Darling, I could never be your mother"

The wonderful thing about being on vacation with Bi and Vijlet is that you never have to worry about anything. It's the perfect step-out-of-the-plane into open arms scenario. Very heartwarming.

So the flight from Boston was delayed by 1.5 hrs because of bad weather in Chicago (it was drizzling). As we waited at the boarding gate and I watched Gilmore Girls Season Two Disc Two, my ears were assaulted by the sounds of loud and rather rude conversation. There was this one guy talking to another chap and a cow of a woman who were yelling speech at each other even though they were standing together. It was very annoying. They went on to complain about United, how the service is always bad, how they're always late, how their stock prices should be falling, how the company should just fold and go away because they're the devil-incarnate and how United has a personal agenda to make their life miserable. On full volume. In the middle of the boarding area. I wanted to slap them. So then, they were asked to keep it down by the woman sitting next to me working on her laptop and the main obnoxious bastard, without breaking the flow of conversation, actually glanced at her derisively and said, "sorry to interrupt your AOL chat session lady". I wanted to slap him. Then he looks at me and winks. I really wanted to slap him. I looked him up and down and made wot I hope was a face of distaste and went back to Gilmore Girls, wanting to slap him.

So we board. The nice United man moved my seat from 20E to 6F which is always nice. There was a man with a heavy German accent sitting one seat away with, unfortunately Obnoxious Man in front. No matter, I said. I shall put my headphones on and read my book and not let him bug me I said. German Accent Man had very odd boots on. They were heavy, almost like military boots and he was wearing dark green trousers, a brown shirt with a long brown coat. He walked funny too. Very stiff. He had a briefcase - a brown patent leather bit of business. He was short. With a toothbrush moustache.

I'll let that all sink in, shall I? So anyway, GAM spent the entire flight staring at me as I napped. It was very disconcerting. Well probably not the entire flight but every time I woke up he was looking at me. I had bad Hitler dreams.

So then I wake up at a point and I see we're about 20 minutes to land so I buzz mine hostess to get a drink and OM in front yells out that he wants another whiskey (another?! it's a two hour flight!). She brings it to him glaringly. He strangely realizes that he's lonely and must commune with his fellow man and gets onto his seat on his knees and peers over at me exuding whiskey breath. I ignore him, waving my hand in front of my nose. He begins to speak and sadly I can hear him through my headphones. I take headphones off and look at him questioningly. He grins like a deranged monkey. I say, "What?" He says, "What's that you're reading over there?" I say, "It's a novel concept. It's call a book." He swigs whiskey. I resume reading. "Is that the Osama fellow?" I look at cover where there is nice picture of Sidney Poitier. "How does this look like the Osama fellow?!" "Well he's black in't he?" I look at him in awe of his stupidity. He swigs more whiskey. I say, "this is Sidney Poitier, yes, Barak Obama is also black but that means nothing in this context and Osama is the man they're trying to find, I hardly think he would have written a book that has the words 'a spiritual autobiography' on the cover that could be bought at any bookstore in the US." He swigs more whiskey obviously not comprehending. I want to slap him. Seat belts need to be fastened and he goes away. I shake my head. GAM is smirking at me. I look out of window hoping for quick landing and speedy exit. We land. Everybody stands up to queue in the aisle to leave. I don't. (I'm in a window seat and there is no question of having enough head room for me underneath the oxygen mask compartments to be able to stand straight and they haven't opened the doors yet so why bother). OM leans over and barks, "so you're going to Minneapolis?" Same flight was carrying on. No, I says, I'm getting off at Chicago. "This is Chicago" he says. I want to slap him. "Hey give me your number so we can hook up sometime" he says. Mind you, he's dressed like any other travelling salesman in his khaki pants and blue shirt and striped tie with grey jacket and looks about 35. "You've got to be kidding me," say I. He does not respond but as he walks down to the exit he is heard clearly muttering, "stupid c*nt... needs to get laid". At which point I tapped on his shoulder and when he turned around, I slapped him. Then I picked up my bag, pushed him aside and walked out of the plane. I think I saw the air hostess grin at me in sister solidarity. Now, I'm not the slapping kind but I have to say that was quite satisfying. I highly recommend it.

Vijlet was there to pick me up and towards their new home we went (Lincoln Park, beautiful duplex condo, very nicely painted). Bi was there waiting with open arms and lots of yakking was done over some wine and very spicy lamb curry.

Yesterday we went to Devon St. for some shopping for the home and then to watch Eklavya and eat Indo-Chinese at Hot Pot Kitchen. Very delish food. Very disappointing movie.

Time has shifted ahead this morning and as usual I'm up at the crack of dawn waiting for the bedroom door to creak open and footsteps to be heard on the stairs going towards the tea preparation area.

Hello! I hear water being poured into a kettle. That's my cue.

I want egg rolls

Lots of them. Crispy ones.

I think I shall make some.

Ah the flushing spiral of procrastination

So like I have to work on my country analysis paper, write down notes for tomorrow's client presentation, put paperwork together for my lawyer and sort out my desk and of course I don't want to do any of it so I cleaned the kitchen and refolded all my clothes and changed the sheets on the bed and swept the floor and then mopped it and now I'm thinking about making dinner only I'm not hungry and there is no meat in the freezer and we all know I can't eat an entirely vegetarian meal so I'm tempted to go to the store and get shrimp so I can make chili shrimp and watch teevee and go drinking with the MBAs because it is Arjun's birthday and I mean, shouldn't we be with our friends on their birthdays to drunkenly tell them repeatedly that we love them?

Help me. I need motivation. I am a weak weak woman.