Bricks and stones

I am calling some of my colleagues over today for wine, vodka and scotch (the cheap variety - I serve good wine, but if you prefer scotch, like hell I'll buy expensive ones for you - hah!) and eats. The finger foods (aptly named, cooking them meant I nearly lost my fingers thanks to my kitchen blades aka knives and my cooking range) include coriander lime shrimps, garlic babycorn, plantain-potato parsley chops and cornflake mix. The heavier eats include tava murg, vegetable biryani, raita and the dessert is walnut brownie with cream. Everything is cooked save for the biryani. It took me 4 hours to finish off my cooking and all my powers of restrain to abstain from polishing off the brownies. The wine is in the fridge, the house has been readied and I'm waiting for the evening.

How to get rid of prospective boyfriends

1. When they say in a cheery manner that you should look outside your window to see them cruise past your house, say in a bored voice, "I'd rather stir my pasta sauce. Its a better sight than you right now and in all probability will taste better."
2. When they ask you for a date say,"I'm not into alpha one males at the moment, and certainly not into dates. Grow up, will you?"
3. When they call up and tell you about the next exciting thing n their eventless life, yawn and go off to sleep.
4. Tell them in a rather animated manner about the men who hit on you and sneer at their feeble descriptions of women who hit on them.

Heh! Its easy being a bitch.

Pasta Perfect

Yesterday night I felt like eating pasta. It was also a good exercise to finish the spaghetti lying on my shelves for the last gadzillion years. I had read this interesting recipe on Chocolate and Zucchini, one of my favourite food blogs yeaterday and adapted the recipe to suit my requirements and stuff I had at home. Instead of using chorizo I marinated a chicken breast in herbs, a bit of honey, lime and a dash of tabasco and roast it and then shredded the meat. I made a garlicky tomato sauce flavoured with parsley, mixed the chicken and the pasta and the pistas and there I had a fresh, nutty, tasty pasta! Along with it I sauted steamed button mushrooms and french beans in olive oil and garlic. Mmmm... It made a pretty sight, the red and white of the pasta lying beside the white and green of the veggies on my plate. I havent enjoyed a meal so much in ages! I wish I had a camera to take pictures, very soon I shall!

Ten Roses

When I was in New York earlier this month (possibly the happiest days of my life - I was alone, no worries at all and alive and healthy) the Rockefeller Center was one of the places I just had to visit. It helped that it was walking distance from my hotel. There was an Arts festival going on and artists had set up their stalls all around. A lot of it was kitsch and junk, but some work was mind blowing. There was this artist called Shu Leu and I loved her work. Her work was divided into 3 distinct phases. One was with a heavy Japanese influence, the second phase seemed very neo-impressionist to me and a lot of the paintings were very Suzanne Valadon-ish. If I had enough money, I would surely have picked up atleast one of her paintings. I could sadly afford only a print. When I get my digital camera, I shall post the picture. The print was called 'Ten Roses' and it has a woman in a yellow revealing dress in a reclining position. In front of her there are rose bushes with 9 roses on them. I just got the print back from the framers and its come out beautifully.

Goodness had nothing to do with it

Heh!


Va-Va-Voom! You're inner Bombshell is Mae West.
You've definitly got a lot of wit, a lot of
smarts, and you know how to use people to your
advantage. Ever heard the phrase "doesn't
take any crap from anybody"? Well that's
you! Just like Mae you never want to settle
down, and can't imagine being with just one man
for the rest of your life. You don't care about
conventions and have no filter from your brain
to you mouth. Check out the movie "She
Done Him Wrong" to see your inner
bombshell in all her voluptuous glory!


Who is your inner bombshell?
brought to you by Quizilla

Glasses

I don't feel like writing emails, nevertheless by the end of this day I shall email Varsha for I fear her wrath. That's right, I'm a sorry loser, but I don't want to lose my friends as well.

Families are funny things, you can't live with them and you can't live without them. Dad and I are spending the weekend together. I need to put one bottle of wine into the fridge and stock the kitchen with food Dad likes. When I had set up home, I did not have enough glasses to go around and I drank all liquids out of huge, fat coffee mugs. For some reason Dad disliked those mugs and thanks to his jokes about my mugs, my house is stocked with glasses to suit all occassions. Other parents nag kids about careers, life partners, money. My parents nag me about proper glasses, clothes and tablecloths. Such is life!

Big Brother

Amongst other things, Varsha's authentication message just cracks me up...

X-Authentication-Warning: cygnus.gems.unc.edu: varsha owned process doing -bs

How did they ever know?

You know....

When you have been working too hard when Varsha jams up your inbox with a gadzillion emails with no body and the subject line bearing insults!

Awww.... Sweets, will email you today...

I'm not ignoring you, I've just been hijacked by work. The key word is not Bitch, witch or snitch, it is Rich. :p I'm sorry!

I want more!

Peace has been restored and the damn thing is up. At this rate I shall soon be a 'Late Plumpernickel'. My life follows a yo-yo trajectory these days. Some days are deeply and breathtakingly exciting, some so boring I could die. Today is a high-excitement day, though I think excitement of this sort, I could do without. I shouted at everyone today, and I need to bring in chocolates tomorrow as an anodyne.

Yesterday I read an article on ambitions and women in the Harvard Business Review about women and ambitions. According to them, women perceive being ambitious as non-feminine and are even guilty of displaying an ambitious streak at work. Those who do display strong streaks are lumped by male co-workers as lesbians or bitches. Most professional women who are very successful, are modest about their success and even try and brush away their efforts and most attributed it to luck and not wheeling-dealing. According to the study, most women made good "team" members because women styled themselves as givers and thrived on it to be seen as non-feminine and non-threatening.

I have been observing female behaviour at the work-place for ages now and I agree with the study. I know that it is tough even now for women at the workplace and to straddle a career, home, children and husbands is very tough. I have opted out of the children and husband thing because I can't handle it. Consequently I have been called a bitch when I have had to take tough decisions especially last year when I had to fire people and restructure my team. I'm happier now at work because I feel more comfortable with my team, my results and performance are peaking but I am still a bitch and a lesser woman to some. It doesn't bother me at all, but comparing myself with men I feel short-changed sometimes. Why are there different standards when it comes to judging men and women? Why is feminity so important at the workplace and the loss of it such a blow?

Vitriol

I am just so mad I could tear that damn hosting provider from limb to limb and dip them in boiling oil. I have a splitting headache and I want to cry. I hate VSNL from the bottom of my heart and I am so full of rage and frustation, people had better steer clear of me. All our efforts of the past 4 months have been brought to nought by fuckin' VSNL. Die stupid hosting provider! Die! Bah!

Food Blog or Arrested Development

As people might have noticed, I have a number of food blog links. I am very, very fond of good food. A digital camera is on the cards and so I have been thinking that documenting my food and recipes would be a good idea.

This post was going to be a disclosure of intent, but I just read about a death in the family and I am sad. I am shocked and reflective and just not feeling nice. It is not that I was close or anything to my uncle, but as I mentioned before, I feel sad at the "What Ifs?"

Something Stupid

Was in Delhi for the past 3 days. Delhi was hot and horrible. Thankfully I was always in airconditioned areas and it wasn't a problem, but the rest of the city looked very uncomfortable and hot. Amongst other things I saw a candy factory and got free samples. How nice is that? Free candy is always nice.

While I was returning, I almost got knocked down by a cabbie at the airport and I wondered why everyone was bent on decimating my sorry existence all the fuckin' time? This was of course the third time in this trip that I narrowly escaped death. The first two times were while I was crossing roads and that too carefully. Carefully means dreaming about lunch and trying to concentrate to understand English heavily accented with Italian.

Sunday was a work intensive day and I have had my fill of Italian men who miss Italian food and insist on trying out Italian joints in of all the places - Delhi! Thankfully lunch was at a teppenyaki bar, TK's at the Hyatt. Of course I cheated and also had sushi and overate. Mmmm... They say that TK's will also be opening in the Calcutta Hyatt. If it does, I shall have sunday lunches over there and nowhere else. Of course if a Benihana were to open in Calcutta, I would have every other meal there. Sigh!

The virgin suicides

Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to keep smiling. I deeply resent idiotic people and all the basket cases seem to land up in my basket. Mental health is so seriously neglected in India it isnt even funny. I'm having a bad day because I have to deal with things that are out of my depth and I am tired. I wish I could go home, slip into bed, put on the a/c and snuggle inside a blanket and just sleep.

Inventory I

This is just another list I suddenly feel like making.

Travel
No. of Kilometres travelled this year - 43, 350 kms
No. of new cities travelled to this year - 5
No. of old cities travelled to this year - 2
No. of new countries visited this year - 3
No. of new restaurants eaten in this year - 14
No. of airlines travelled in this year - 2
No. of new continents travelled to this year - 1
No. of airplane trips made this year - 17
No. of train trips made this year - 7
No. of road trips made this year - 1

Professional
No. of people hired this year - 2
No. of people fired this year - 0 (yay!)
No. of people left this year - 0 (yay! again)
No. of projects started this year - 15
No. of projects completed this year - 6
No. of projects stalled this year - 1
No. of projects liable to be completed this year - 8
No. of conferences attended this year - 2
No. of people met at conferences - 569 (for real!)
No. of new associates/ clients added - 4
No. of projects started with new clients/ associates - 2 (yay!)
No. of professional courses done - 0 (bad!)
No. of promotions got this year - 1
No. of pay hikes got this year - 1

Personal
No. of friends made this year - 0
No. of friends dropped this year - 5
No. of times been stabbed in the back this year - 4
No. of times glad that my family exists - 75
No. of times diets have failed - 4
No. of times have decided to trash useless diets and resolved never to diet again - 4
No. of times have been broke - 3
No. of times have been broke because of buying excessive clothes - 0 (so there!)
No. of times have forgotten birthdays/ anniversaries etc - too many to mention over here
No. of times have broken up - 1
No. of times have felt relieved at the breaking up - all the fuckin' time, heh!
No. of times have been called "mrs. Plumpernickel" - gadzillion
No. of times have felt like dumping the person who did that in hot, boiling oil - e raised to the power gadzillion
No. of times have felt like the luckiest girl on earth - 9
No. of times have felt overcome to be doing the things that I wanted to do before I die - 6
No. of students enlisted this year - 2
No. of trousers bought this year - 10
No. of jackets bought this year - 3
No. of tops bought this year - 23
No. of times have had "absolutely nothing" to wear - 30
No. of shoes bought this year - 5
No. of lipsticks bought this year - 8
No. of expensive perfumes bought this year - 3

Hobbies
No. of plays watched this year - 1
No. of concerts watched this year - 1
No. of books read this year - 18
No. of CDs bought this year - 15
No. of marathons/ hashes run/ completed this year - 1
No. of prints bought this year - 7
No. of magazine subscriptions started this year - 7
No. of libraries joined this year - 2
No. of clubs joined this year - 2
No. of jazz clubs visited this year - 4

Whew! I have lived this year and how! I hope the second half of the year is as good as the first half.

What can you do for Carb-Aid?

You know Bandaid, you know Live-aid, now you have the noblest of them all, Carb-aid! In these days and times of Atkins, carbs need all our help and support. For the uninformed, yesterday was Carb Awareness Day (I have done away with National, since my nation is not the same as TAG's). I celebrated it by muching on an almond biscotti, a choco-chip cookie, rice noodles and a smoked-chicken sandwich. How did you celebrate it?

Why is wanting a stinking rich non-idiot boyfriend so bad?

If someone so much as mutters the word "love" or "feelings" I shall crack their patellas and dip them toe first in boiling oil. Now that we have our priorities settled, let us proceed to the topic. I, for one have my priorities right. I do not want a starving artist in the garret (if that is just a pretence for the paparazzi and you are actually a multi-billionaire with islands in the Mediterranean, dude, I exist) for a boyfriend. If I can pay my way for sushi in this city I expect you to be able to not only pay for yours but also treat me to crepes. If you can't, get lost. If, on the other hand you are a starving genius, what use are your brains if they can't get me some rich, dark chocolate when I am PMSy and the only thing that helps is rich, sinful chocolate?

Once upon a time...

I used to set high-falutin' goals for myself, like "lose 5 kgs" or "control your tongue" and the best of all "be less caustic". Now that I'm older, I know better and I set more achievable goals for myself, like "increase count of shoes to 50 by end of year". There's nothing like advancing years to drill sense into one's head. Hmmm...

Victoria's Secret

Last evening feeling thoroughly wretched and depressed, I resorted to my one sure-fire perk-me-up tricks. I went shopping. I had to buy my office clothes and I walked into Pantaloons to pick up some cotton trousers and all they had was low-cut grey coloured crap. I searched high and low and ultimately asked one of the detestable shop girls (Pantaloons has the worst floor people possible - they behave as if showing you where the knickers are, is doing you a huge favour)for help and she showed me some synthetic crap that I don't wear. I hate wearing anything other than cotton, linen or silk and my skin breaks out into a rash at any contact with an un-natural fibre. I was surprised. I had bought a pair of black, cotton trousers from there just 15 days back and now there was not a trace of blessed cotton trousers. So, I bought one of those low-cut things and now, I am mortified. My underwear is showing and I have to wear my jacket in this god-awful heat because I don't particularly like displaying white chuddis¹ below black trousers. Die low-rise trousers! Die!

¹ Chuddis = Knickers

We are Fami-lie!

Incident 1

After scanning the guest list for the singles' party, I thought of getting matters cleared up before I make another historic blunder.

Me: Does BIL have a half-Austrian cousin in Cal? Just checkin'.
Sis: Not that I know of. He does have a Swiss aunt, who gave indulgent weekend lunches thus putting off BIL and BIL's cuz from Swiss food forever. Does that help?
Me: Heh! Yes, and you don't even know how!

Incident 2

I reach Goethe Institute's language department. Suddenly, I am assailed with a vigorous handshake, Chanel No. 5 (I think), hennaed hair, chiffon sari, ethnic jewellery wearing bundle saying, "HiDarling!whatbringsyouhereagain? niceseeingyou- areyouheretojoinanothercourse? isBdidiinthestates? HowisyoursisandBIL?Dotheycometocalanymore?" Whew! I extract myself and patiently answer BIL's aunt's questions. And then she turns around and proclaims to one and all, "Plumpernickel is my relative peeps!" I can foretell another summer of abject embarassment in my German class.

CYA

I have added some more new links. So many blogs and such little time, still I manage pretty well. I used to be afraid to link to some of my favourite blogs for fear of being "discovered" by the million trolls that had inhabited my previous space, so I indulged in a little bit of CYA. Now, I just do not care and my powers of ignoring even the worst critter have been restored. So, I'm re-linked to some of my favourites again.

Exalted

If I had my way, I'd fly to the skies and stay put. If I could talk about my work, I would have babbled, but since I am not supposed to and I'd rather not, this is all I can say. Now I shall die a million deaths until delivery and feedback but atleast I shall die happy that there is a delivery and feedback!

Last year I had enrolled for a basic German language course at the Goethe Institute and though we got our certificates, we had to appear for an exam that I was sure I'd flunk, so I did not bother to check out the results. Now, as it so happens, I urgently need to get further with German and I called up Goethe Institute to re-enrol for the basic course. I was told that I could do the advanced one because I had passed my basic levels! That is a classic example of how I underestimate myself.

Clubbed to death...

I am overwhelmed. Life!

Days meld into dusks, dusks meld into nights, nights meld into dawn, dawn melds into day and the cycle continues but I have no recollection of daybreak or dusk. My days are measured with my alarm clock and watches that tell me it is time to get up, exercise, eat breakfast, leave for work, return home to crash on the bed only to be woken up the next day by the alarm clock.

I hope to meet more people or atleast see more people at the club I'm joining from the end of this month. I dislike the club culture intensely and I feel uncomfortable to be with people I don't know and must pretend to be nice to just because we fall in the same income bracket. If clubs did not have swimming pools, I wouldn't have joined, but I so desperately want a summer that includes swimming, I'm willing to join up. I can always ignore people, yes.

On Friday, I have to go for a singles party. I dont want to go. I can't make myself get into the dating game once again. I can see through almost any man and I'm tired of the lies, the deceit, the pettiness that every relationship brings. I'm avoiding entanglements because as pathetic as it sounds, my work does not permit me a life and I don't want another man clamoring for time, attention and sex that I can ill-afford to dole out. I have the television for background noise, and music pushes back loneliness, but the comfort of a hug and warm welcoming arms seems to be beyond my reach, especially since thats all I require and nothing else. I like to travel since that way I am constantly occupied and I'm already looking forward to the next round of conferences and meetings.

This post was not meant to be whiny, but I feel whiny and petulant and nasty and what better place to rant than a blog?

Beast of burden

And a very flea-ridden mangy one at that. I need weekends, I need to relax and do nothing!

Sometimes...

Sometimes I am my worst enemy. The back-log of work at ze work-place has reached gargantuan proportions. I tried finding a solution and suggested working holidays. This Sunday meaning today, I am at work. Sigh!

Madame Bootle Bumtrinket

Madder came over yesterday night and as we always do, trashed everyone and everything including ourselves, drank copious amounts of liquids, alcoholic and otherwise, creating mocktails and cocktails as required and gabbled away just like only two women can. It was to celebrate my new set of wheels and I'm looking for a name for my darling car. I've almost settled on 'Bootle Bumtrinket', and might shorten it to 'Bebe' (pronounced: Baybay). She looks like a Bootle Bumtrinket all right. I have planned lots of adventures with Bebe, and this is how it all looks uptil now.
1. Go for a dinner to sher-e-punjab dhaba with assorted friends. The dhaba is some way ahead of Dum-dum airport and is supposed to be "the" happening place on the highway.
2. Drive to Belur and spend a day at the Math.
3. Go for a midnight drive on the em-bypass on a rainy day.
4. Dress up Bebe in black and/or electric blue.
5. Drive down to Ffort Radisson atleast once a month.
6. Go and visit the parents atleast once in 2 months.

I *heart* NY

My first night in NY was spent downing paella, mussels, calamari, chorizo and huge glasses of sangria that came in delightful pitchers here. The sangria was potent as was the Baileys that I downed while I was here. The next day was spent walking all over Manhattan, shopping like a person possessed and buying prints at the art festival at the Rockefeller center. If I had my way, I'd spend all my life sipping on cappuccino at a tiny cafe in Little Italy, people watching.

To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction

Someone I know is having a tumour removed this weekend. She has brilliance, young kids, an estranged husband and has often been the harbinger of unpleasantness and gloom. I wish her the best and I hope never to be touched by negativity. Of the things I fear the most, negativity comes soon behind loneliness and depression. Loneliness I battle almost successfully everyday, depression I suffer every month with my hormonal cycle and there is not much I can do about it, negativity is the one thing I know I have conquered. I hope it remains that way.

Hope

I am extremely pleased with the election results this year. The Indian voter has ousted the non-performers and how! I still think Sonia as the PM will be disastrous and be the death-knell of the congress, so I'm waiting to see who the Congress comes up with as the PM. Jivha has gone the whole hog with gloating about the BJP rout. Since I have no great regard for any politician, I am just waiting to see what happens next. The Indian political tamasha is the stuff movies are made of.

Baby you can drive my car

I just returned from a test drive. I am now the proud owner of a silver Alto. I can't wait to start transforming my car into a total single and swinging fun machine. I already have the nicest thing to dangle from my mirror (a red fish - supposed to be a good luck charm), all I need is a sassy bumpersticker. My half-dimpled smile now is so toothy you could stick a billboard ad for colgate there.

Peachtree Street everywhere

Atlanta is a funny city. It seems to consist of a long and winding road that apparently never ends and is called Peachtree Street. When I got my hotel booking, I looked at the address and smiled. I imagined a tiny, cute hotel at the end of a cute tree-lined street, maybe with peachtrees? I should have googled the hotel and checked out more about Atlanta. Instead, the hotel was an obscene (though comfortable) 75 storey one, bang in the middle of yes, you guessed it, Peachtree Street. It was not one of the conference hotels, though was a 2 minutes walk from the conference hotels, all 4 of them.

My first touchdown on American soil was a trifle tiring, it took me 4 hours to get out of the goddamned airport, ensuring that I missed out the first event of the conference and was the last person to register that day. I seem to look suspicious to all airport security people, I was strip-checked everywhere. I cannot say I was not annoyed, still. I wonder what it is, my brown skin, my non-Indian attitude, my first-time visit? Whatever! Also, I found it very annoying that atleast 20 people mistook me for a mexican or something and spoke with me in Spanish, and even at the airport. Look at my passport people!

The conference was over-whelming.There were 7000 professionals registered and if I wasnt so confident and full of myself, would have been scared to death. I enjoyed the lectures and sessions I attended and it gave me a chance to assess myself and also re-affirmed my career choices. I must have met atleast half of the people and made some good friendships with people closer to my age, though there were very few of them. The receptions and parties totally rocked, the booze flowed like flood-water, the food mostly was Southern and I had my fill of crabcakes and green fried tomatoes. We had parties at almost every Atlanta landmark like the CNN centre, the Georgia Dome, Swan house and the Margaret Mitchell house. I indulged myself at some of the nicest restaurants in Atlanta. At the end of it, I got utterly sick and found myself a Sushi bar not far from my hotel. Needless to say, I ate well and as a result, am dieting these days. Sigh!

Next stop, Manhattan!

Miss Varsha accepts her honorary Oscar

Well now that The Plump One is back, I can safely beg off all further Blogging duties.

Big shout outs and blown kisses to those who tuned in the meanwhile, and stayed despite the overt snarkiness of the guest blogger. I might even pass out a bucket of fried Bread Bread later. (Totally off topic, and further off my low Carb diet - have you ever snacked on Pita Chips ? I hate the bastardization of non American culture by the corporate whores as much as anyone else, but those things fucking rock)

Lastly, not to belabor the point but if by some wild chance of coincidence, you are reading this, and you are Richeek M., Call Me !

Jetlagged

I always laughed at people who got jetlagged, and now I am horribly jetlagged. My body clock is all screwed up and I still feel I am on a crappy Air France airplane. I am so sleepy I can't even think of anything sensible to write. S'long for now and there's a lot more to follow.

Miss Varsha speaking in Bad European

Good lord.

Now I'm convinced that at a certain point of time someone secretly stole the script of Van Helsing and put it through a manic Windows (TM) macro which replaced all the Cs with Ks, all the Ws with Vs, the Vs with Fs, and all plot points with ridiculous overplayed campy trash. No ? Must be my imagination then.

I have never seen such an atrocious display of bad acting, bad ideas and bad diction in one place since the last time I saw President Dubbya on the television. I mean seriously people this movie is bad. It couldn't possibly have been any worse. Or rather It Kouldn't Possibly Haff Been Any Vorse. Well it could, if they had delected the brief oh so brief glance of nekkid Hugh Jackman.

And now for something completely different.

I was shopping at The Wedge (TM) yesterday, and decided to get some eco-friendly detergent rather than the generic dolphin baby killing stuff from the supermarket. Imagine my surprise when rather than a portly lesbian doling out foul smelling Lye from a vast cauldron, I was directed towards a very futuristic device, in which you place an empty receptacle of the kind of product you are interested in, and then all sorts of pipes and extruders examine said receptacle, determine what product you want and proceed to fill it in. And with many futuristic bells and whistles thrown in. You all just got to try it.

Going back to our theme of bad european, memo to those odious city planners who have named the new shopping block next to The Wedge Agora Market. As even a dimwitted three year old mediterranean child might inform you, Agora means market, and hence you get a wonderful place called Market Market. I suppose folks can get together, drive there on the Street Street in their Car Car and order some Bread Bread which they can buy with their Money Money.

I'm surrounded by Idiots.

Miss Varsha *heart* Boston Rob

Oh all right, I admit it.
I am a reality TV junkie. I would happily spend my time waving little red-and-yellow TAR flags, but since American TV is determined to suck the lifeblood out of me, I make do with other, lesser shows. Even the bad ones on MTV with the fake drama, which are usually watched by "Eeeeeeeeeeee ! Me + Allison 4 Eva !" type screaming 14 year olds.

So the Survivor finale. Biggest TV night of the week. And the fucking crybaby, loser, can't get over themselves Jury hand the million dollars to that fucking skank Lamber, rather than Boston Rob who played the fuck out of the game. Except for the part where he started thinking with Little Boston Rob and fell under the thrall of the floral bikini.

"My strategy was to flirt with Boston Rob". Oh, thanks Lamber for setting the whole concept of womanhood back by about seven hundered years.

And then in what is one of the shittiest moves in my opinion, the lunkhead goes and proposes to her on live national TV. To which she said yes. Like, when has someone who has been proposed to in public ever said no ? What are they going to say "Uh...sorry, I was just leading you on" in front of 200 million people ? Right.

Sigh, anyway dear, just know that when the skank takes her million and dumps you, and you are left being all "Aaaaam-bah ?!" (Think Nicolas Cage and "Stelllaaaaaaaaaaaa"), Miss Varsha will be waiting for you on just the other side of Boston harbor.

Miss Varsha on a sunny Sunday

This is exactly why my erstwhile Blog collapsed into obscurity.

After weeks of frenetic posting I would completely neglect it, on account of I have a life and apparently better things to do. Which is why I guess Plumpie is blowing steam out of her ears right now in some corner of the corporate world at the woeful neglect I have shown here.

My apologies, except not really.

Contributing to this whole malaise was the fact that it was a week of utter and indescribably non happeningness. Not even the promise of a nekkid Hugh Jackman in Van Helsing has been enough to shake me out of this spell of laziness.

I gave my new summer party wardrobe a test drive at Pramilla's graduation party yesterday and I can declare myself satisfied with the result. Of course the fact that I seem to have lost a whole bunch of weight in the last two weeks without even trying helped a lot. Was able to catch up with a boatload of old friends, and P's ouber hot brother from Chicago offered to help me find a job. And I didn't even have to put any slutty moves on him, Plumpie. Faced with such good prospects all around, even the prescence of three squalling kids (well, ok, they weren't really squalling, they were fairly well behaved as far as Indian kids go, must be all the beatings) wasn't enough to put a dampener on my mood.

Now I'm off to lay somewhere in a park and work on my tan. Play nice.

Miss Varsha and Ishmael

Well folks, I am back from Boston, Mass. As was reasonably pointed out, not everyone knows that said town is called Beantown, so my apologies. As always, once I had repressed the irrational urge to don a New York Yankees cap and shout "BoSox suck, losers !", I came to the conclusion that I *heart* Boston and will go to any lengths to live there. In order to provide a quick, succint and informative overview of the whole production, we now rely on our good and functional friend, the bulleted list.

(a) Not unexpectedly, I was stabbed in the back by NilouxDi and Truckie who called in sick at the last minute. See this sort of idiotic behaviour by married couples who insist only on socializing with other married couples is what reaffirms my non-belief in marriage. But since he is a good reliable guy in that way, Rvijay drove down in his brand new hybrid electric/gas car to spend time with us. All you manly men who think buying rough and tough SUVs to drive in from your whitebread suburb to work can just kiss our collective asses.

(b) Whilst shopping for healthy dinner ingredients I could not help buy (and consume) a giant container of Valhrona chocolate. If you think you've eaten good chocolate, and it wasn't Valhrona, you are sadly, sadly mistaken.

(c) Although it did sound sort of tourist trappy-ish, we decided to go whale watching on Saturday, and can I just say, that is the best investment of money I can not afford I have ever made ? Despite the fact that we were tossed around, like so much salad, and nearly froze to death due to the wind blowing over the bloody frigid Atlantic, it was the best time ever. The whale spotter on our boat insisted on wasting like half an hour chasing after a female humpback called Salt (who apparently is one of her favorites - and yes, whales, like people, look different from each other) who was acting all shy and pricey leading us to believe that the whole trip would be a lost cause. And then we found a mixed group of eleven (yes, eleven !) male humpbacks and spinebacks feeding together. And like most males around the world, they were more than ready to show off for an audience and have a good time and lunged and jumped and splashed their tails for us. Or alternatively, stuffed their faces while a group of gasping humans beneath their notice looked on. For those not in the know, the best part of whale group feeding is that in order for it to be worth their while, the whales herd schools of fish numbering in the hundereds of thousands to one small area before pigging out - and every bird and dolphin in the area invites themself to the party. Seriously people - the sight of an adult whale coming out of the sea with its mouth open as about thirty gulls fly in to steal a bite and fly out before the whale closes its mouth can be filed away as one of those "defining moments of life." Soon enough it was time to head back, and to complete the National Geographic experience, a group of Atlantic White dolphins decided to swim back all the way with us, easily keeping up with the Catamaran. Can I just say "Awwwww" ?

(d) Those in the area not averse to lightening their wallets and looking for an excellent meal are advised to whisk themselves to The Kabab Factory. Excellent, excellent food, of the type which was served at Lavish parties in the Commotion household when she was a twee, growing lass. But be warned - if instead of being adventerous and indulging in the feast of meat delicasies available you order the "Tandoori Chicken Pizza", the spirits of Miss Varsha and Plumpie will materialize behind you and beat you with a stick.

Sigh. Can't wait to be back. And yeah, BoSox suck, Losers !