Hello, my pets.

Where have you been all my life? What's that you say? I'm the one that fell off the earth? What.ev.er. I've been here all along. Perhaps it's time to reset expectations. You see, I am lazy. Laaaazy, laaaazy lazy. Especially when it comes to publishing my court jester-like antics here for all the world to see. That's not to say that I have suddenly morphed into a well behaved, quieter, more submissive-like lady...oh noooo. I still have an enormous mouth, a penchant for a good martini, and a well honed ability to piss off even my best of friends. Funny really. It's been months since I have written anything here, and truthfully, not a damn thing has changed. Woo! I am nothing if not consistent in my insanity.


I haven't had the best week of my life, and so I am fairly gnarly and grumbly today. So I am walking into work this morning, and I say "hello" and "how are you" to the lovely, silver haired security man. He replies that he is fantastic, to which, I immediately snort that he is a liar and shut up, he's at work, so there's no way he can be fantastic. And then he says to me:


"It's ALL fantastic."

With a sincere smile on his face.

And you know, usually, I am not the type to get all introspective and spiritual and gooey about comments like that. I am more likely to brush him off and think (in passing) that surely - he is on happy pills, and please God, someone call his therapist and ask him to arrange for a lower dose. Because that's all we need around here - pleasantness - when I am trying to be pissy. But whatever - his jovial smile DID make me all introspective. And gooey (but totally in a good way, of course).

Get out of the gutter and up onto the curb with me, sicko's.

So it's the lovely, silver haired security man's fault, kind of, that I decided to write a wee bit of an update here. Because he's happy. And I should be happy. Because look! Look what's going on:

I got me a new niece this year. She is so cute and I want to sprinkle her in powdered sugar and eat her RIGHT NOW. I would post her picture, but I fear my BIL would beat me until I was dead, dead, dead.

I am going to my first ever [edited because I am lame - let's just say it's a defensive class of sorts] class tonight. Yes. You heard me, and no, you were not mistaken. I am a left-wing gun toter. I recognize this is rare. But rare can be good, no? Have you ever put a big fat schmear of strawberry jam all over your grilled cheese sandwich? Rare...but ohhhhh so good. That's me.

I just got back from my second trip to India, and this time, I SAW THE TAJ MAHAL! Oh yeah...uh hu...alright!!! I'm not sure why this wasn't on my list, but it should have been. It was stunning, and breathtaking, and stunning. Totally stunning. And I am basically speechless from how stunning it was. Here's a picture or two:

I have come to a new conclusion. I wanna be one of those people that "works to play", instead of one who "lives to work". Not that I really ever lived to work, but you know - I did have to wrangle a Cornell-matriculated New Yorker or two over the last couple years of corporate madness, and phew! I almost got sucked into that. You know the philosophy I am talking about - the one that says "you will work eleventeen hours a day in your pointy toed shoes and become masterful at the ways of office politics so that one day...one day - you will be the first female CEO of the company and fulfill your life long dream of firing anyone who ever got in your way!!! Mwahahahahaha!!!". I have had a recent epiphany - I AM NOT CUT OUT FOR THAT SHIT, THANKYOUVERYMUCH.

I have made a HUGE, life altering decision. And some day soon, I might "out" myself and tell you what it is. Or change my mind, because, well, it's my decision and I'll cry if I want to. And no...I did not decide to be a lesbitarian. Or a vegetarian, for that matter. I like my meat way too much.

So there it is, in a nutshell*. It's all I got. Mwah!

* There you go, Ironclad-IT. Your turn!

Deep Thoughts from my Sick Bed to You

1. Hairy siberian huskies are the funniest dogs ever, even when they do things they aren't supposed to - like climbing on the furniture while you are watching TV so they can BE.RIGHT.NEXT.TO.YOU.
2. Gary Cooper was the hottest movie cowboy ever, and the best company a girl can have when she's laid up on the sofa with typhoid mary.
3. Divorcing that dill hole was the best decision I ever made (she says after receiving yet another stupid text from the ignoramus).
4. There are decisions we make in our lives that might either haunt us until we die, or give us great relief and freedom for the remainder of our days. I've made a couple that could have haunted me, but [thankfully] do not.
5. M&M's Chocolate should be numbered among the ranks of our best friends.
6. There are few things more beautiful than a good day of skiing. Picture it now: the crisp mountain air, the sun shining on your face, mastering something that is a challenge - aah. Reflecting upon the upcoming season will lift the spirits of the patient (and probably typhoid mary too) immensely.
7. Even your favorite people will disappoint you once in awhile. Usually a really good cry makes it better, if only a little.
8. Watching the screensaver slideshow on your laptop while convalescing will open your mind to things other than your present discomfort. For instance, I am reminded that Africa is the saddest, scariest place ever. It's also the happiest and most beautiful.
9. Thanksgiving is the most under appreciated holiday ever created. To the vegetarians I know - I mock you on this day of deliciousness, and pledge to delight in several pieces of sumptuous turkey whether my stomach is ready for it or not. *please bless*
10. There is almost nothing better than getting lost in a really great book. Want to forget about the daily grind? Grab a book. Looking to learn something new? Grab a book. Need to forget about the fact that chocolate might not act like your best friend whilst you are sick? Grab a book. And maybe a bucket.

Noticable Silence

So, you may have wondered why I haven't added my two cents about the election here. Or about anything going on in this roller-coaster environment right now...because, well, if you know me, you know I am a politics whore and can't shut up about it. I may have even been accused of judging a few of my peeps who didn't see eye-to-eye with me. But whatever. That's a total lie.

Ok - so probably, you didn't give a rat's ass about my opinion. But since it's all about me (Yes Tequila - me), let's just say I'm gonna pretend you missed my thoughts on the subject and tell you a small story.

A week or so after the election, I went to lunch with some friends. We were noshing on our salads, enjoying the conversation, when one of them said to me, "...and anyway, when did this election become about race?". And my initial reaction to this was simple - without one second to think about her words, I wanted to jump on her face, give her a few good kicks in the crotch, and leave her for the buzzards. But then I realized...and, um, don't be shocked at these next words y'all - that I kind of felt the same way. A little.

Before you run off in a huff - or stomp on my face and kick my ovaries over into to the Grand Canyon - here's why. I realized right there - mid masticate - that I knew all along that this was an historical presidential election; I was either going to get a black man or a woman for my preferred candidate, and we were totally gonna win. Beyond that, I didn't really give it anymore thought. Perhaps this is because I live in Utah, and you are lucky if you see maybe 3 African Americans in a year here. I guess I just didn't spend any real time thinking about race. And then - then Obama gave his acceptance speech, and I literally shed a tear or two. I got chills thinking about what I was witnessing - I even thought about my funny grandma who didn't get to see this in her lifetime when they talked about his grandma.

But here's the icing on the cake for me - the morning after, I was watching Good Morning America, and Bill Weir was reporting stories from the night before about the crowd in Times Square. I'm totally paraphrasing here, but basically, he described a scene where this African American woman and her young daughter were hugging in the streets - jumping up and down, crying, laughing - so excited about the results. And then, ABC threw this picture of all of the former American presidents up on one of the screens...all of these white faces, except for one. And this mom and daughter literally CRUMPLED in the street. Fell to their knees and just bawled.

I still get chills when I think about that.

I'm not a descendant of slaves, never really experienced discrimination on a grand scale. I studied sociology, and the civil rights movement, but I only know a handful of blacks on a personal level. I will never understand what it is like to walk in their shoes.

For just one minute, that morning - I feel like I kind of did, if only for one small second. I understand now that this was always about race for some people, and I'm really proud of America for finally seeing past skin color.

Public Service Announcement

Ahh...another thrilling installment of my Emergency Blogcast System:

Unless you want me to CRAWL UP IN YOUR HAIR AND POO in it, you will NEVER, EVER purchase and display this kind of crap in your home:

Thank you.

Spotted Today: Endangered Species

Something rarely seen around here:

If you squint, you can see angels descending from heaven singing "laaaaaa"!!!

Wanted: Muse

Let's take a moment to discuss the white elephant that has parked his happy ass right on top of this blog. He walked in, saw a glaring vacancy, and decided that this would be his new home. No one else was using it, right? Stupid squatter.

The problem is that when he decided to set up camp on my blog, he also sat right on top of my head. And squished out any of the blog post inspiration that I may have had. Any clever ideas wafting around in my brain evaporated into the cosmic goo of death.

So...why make an appearance now, you ask? I can't know. Perhaps because it's daylight savings time and the darkness makes me need someone to type to? Or maybe I needed a round of anonymous therapy. Whatever the case, it's clear that I am going to need a little help. Like...a muse. And before you get all up in my grill about what that means, let me clarify: I'm not talking about your stereotypical type of muse - you know, the Greek goddess type with the enormous, heaving cleavage who uses her sexual charms to inspire her admirers to be brilliant. (I could totally go off course right now on the sociological effects of using the female sexuality in that way, but wah-wah. How predictable. I'll spare you.)

I got nothin'. Except...maybe this -

I have had 3 - count 'em - THREE false starts to this blog post, but mostly just ended up with drool dripping down my chin and a glazed look in my eyes. And then this "thing" happened to me today that - although not a really big deal to me in the grand scheme of things, was quite possibly a really big deal to someone else. And all of a sudden, all of these thoughts were swirling around in my head, making me feel like I had a piece of prime rib stuck to my back while Kujo was in hot pursuit. I mean - for real, people. Don't you sometimes wish your brain had an "off" switch?

The best I can give you today is this: I think I sort of got accused of being a homewrecker today (in a round about sort of way), and whoa. It's making my freakin' head spin. Perhaps it wasn't so much an accusation as it was a perception and subsequent implication by someone else. *la la la* And I guess I'm telling you this because, well frankly, it gave me pause. After living through the hell of my assbag ex and his vow breaking sex-capades, I am gobsmacked as to why anyone would think I would ever go there. I am talking COMPLETELY GOBSMACKED. Not just sort of gobsmacked. Like A LOT gobsmacked. And by the way, I love the word gobsmacked.

Woo! The digressing!

I'm not going to elaborate anymore, because I respect the parties in question too much. It's just completely bizarre to me to be sitting on this side of the fence when I gave so little thought to the situation to begin with.

Right. That's the best I got. You'll have to also consider this my plea to the cosmos to send me a real muse. There must be something, anything better than that, right?

Whatever. Whilst I chew on this startling switch from victim to homewrecker, I've decided to jump into a torrid love affair with these babies:

So, so - custom, so - heat-molded, so - oh so hot! Please bless I can do so without another torn ligament.

More African Antics - Part Trois

Ok - so that last one was probably only funny to me. How about this instead?

Left to right: Maxwell (..."call me Max"...), Suleman, and Washington.

More African Antics

How about we venture together again into the realm of hysterical 15 year old boys?

Ahh. I love these guys.

Brutal Feedback

Conversation with a co-worker in the hall:

Her: Hey! I pulled up your blog the other day and had a look. It's been awhile.
Me: Oh yeah?
Her: Yeah. And OH MY GOD - It is SOOOO BORING! Sometimes I think to myself - "I wonder how she can write that stuff without putting herself to sleep."
Me: (Throws head back and cackles) - That's hysterical! You can't have word vomit. I am the creator and owner of word vomit!

So there you have it friends. Feedback from a great friend of mine that I am boring you all to tears.

Margaret the Breakdancing Antelope

Jambo Rafiki's!

To say that the last week has been one of the most enriching of my life would be a massive understatement. For the last several days, I have had the opportunity to host some boys from Kenya while they are here on a fundraising tour. Thanks to these boys, I am slowly remembering the reason I have a massive infatuation for all things Africa - it has to be said that Africa seeps into your soul because of the people there, particularly the kids. They are HYSTERICAL, and they have made me realize that 8 years is WAY TOO LONG to have been away - I must go back soon.

When I have a spare moment, I might break down and tell you more about our time together. In the meantime, watch this video (taken at 3 a.m. after 4 days of non stop running - and whilst we were all enormously slap happy). If it does not make you laugh until you weep, then you have a COLD, BLACK HEART.

I am still laughing my ass off! This could be the funniest thing I have EVER seen in my life.

Oh Africa. How I love thee.

Remember that Time?

Remember that time I fell off the earth?

Oh. That.

Let's just say...I had a blog cramp. A big one. And it still might be lurking out there.

In the meantime, I took a wee moment to write THE MOST CHEESY THING IN THE WORLD BELOW. And why I publish it here for your viewing pleasure...I can't know. I'm lame like that.

So go ahead. Poke fun. I can take it, assbags.

Oh! That might have been a small shout out to Tequila. Or...perhaps it was the tourettes. Could have been the word vomitage, the missing filter. Whatever the case, I swear I didn't mean it, oh ye people of God's country with the delicate and sensitive ears.

Mwah!

P.S. I just returned from the most rejuvenating week of my life. Here's a sampling of what I saw, and what the beloved Canon also witnessed:

Dream a Little Dream

It was all very confusing.

Or is that ethereal? Perhaps that’s it. It was ethereal. Like a spider web sewn together with the greatest of care; a web that at any moment could be swept away under the darkness of the ocean. The ocean of sleep.

She was dreaming.

Or was she awake? Perhaps she was in that otherworldly realm between consciousness and sleep – that world where reality is within grasp, and yet it is so fragile, so pliable and delicate that one wrong turn would turn it into ridiculousness. It was certainly nothing so profound or philosophical that she would share it with anyone else – in particular, him.

It was all very confusing.

And frustrating! He was there. That boy that never was…and would likely never be. Silly to call him a boy – she’d known him almost half her life. Could that be right? Let’s see. She was 18 when she met him. Ahh. Relief. She still had a couple of years before meeting that milestone. And he was certainly a boy no longer. He was speaking, but what he was saying was gone; like watching the television with no volume. He was also gazing at her with a disconcerting intensity; his eyes boring holes into her soul so deep it would surely unnerve her. For reasons she could never understand, he had the ability to do that. Her mind drifted back to those days years ago, and how he used to kiss her with that same intensity – how she could never really catch her breath, and conversely, how she could never really surrender wholly to its force.

She would never understand why that was.

They were standing in his apartment – nearly empty but for the flowing sheer curtains covering two walls – walls of windows, standing perpendicular to each other. She turned her back to him to escape his gaze and the honesty of his words – she had a feeling that he was laying his soul bare, and yet she wouldn’t allow herself to pay the words their proper heed. Instead, looking for a distraction - she opened the curtains wide in order to discover what was hiding behind them. For a moment she was perplexed – surely a skyline so encompassing could not exist in the city where he laid his head each night? The view before her rivaled the skylines of New York or San Francisco. Perhaps this wasn’t his apartment at all, but a high rise hotel room in Belfast or Bombay or Rome, and she was there with him.

An excited shiver went down her spine. Maybe this time the dream was coming true! Yes – this? This was the adventure they had always spoken about, but never earnestly tried to make a reality. Was she ready to listen? She paused, unsure.

What was it he was saying again? It was always like this with him; they were always on a different wavelength, a different path going in entirely different directions. She suddenly remembered that time he compared their plight to those of two ships passing in the night. What a perfect analogy – when she was ready to listen, he would be done speaking and would have moved on to something else. She would be disappointed when it was her turn to speak, and instead – he chose to gaze out the window.

And what of it? Surely if there was anything to it (“it” being a potential “them”), it would have happened by now. They would have dropped all of their concerns by the wayside, laid bare their deepest of thoughts and fears, explored that undercurrent of passion that always bubbled beneath the surface. As it was, the “passion” was no longer. It had dwindled with the passing of time.

She still couldn’t make out what he was saying, and so she allowed herself to explore this train of thought further.

...perhaps they had met before, in a previous realm or existence, and promised to make a better go of it the next time around; in the next life. Further explore a bond they had created elsewhere. Maybe one of them subconsciously determined that such a bond would have been better left undone, much to the chagrin of the other. Or further still, perhaps they were linked by some terrible misfortune, and wanted a chance to make it right. A little like…let’s see. Like Anne Boleyn and her Henry VIII.

Ridiculous, she thought, even for a dream.

More probably, they were just too different – like puzzle pieces that you are sure MUST fit together, the ones you constantly go back to – you force them, will them to unite because they look so compatible - until you realize that your eyes had been deceiving you, and really? That one piece belongs clear on the other side of the board. Fits happily…elsewhere.

Hmm. No, that’s not quite right either.

No, this was a case of two people, connected by…something, something we won’t label. It wasn’t passion, it wasn’t chemistry or kismet; “it” just…was.

It was all very confusing, much unfinished, wholly undefined.

And then she woke up.

How frustrating.

More Driving Miss Crazy

Could anything be more boring than watching low quality video snippets of driving through the streets of Mumbai? Oh. That's me - always up for the "most boring blogger" award. Just pretend that I duck (duct?) taped you to a chair, wedged some toothpicks into your eyes so that you didn't miss a second, and I'm making you watch my vacation slides against your will. Or that I am making you watch my grass grow. Same thing, no?

But really, this is one of the better videos that I was trying to post last night. Stupid blogger.

Enjoy!

Jerry Was a Racecar Driver...

Song reference, anyone?

Phew! No - I am not still stuck in airport hell, although I have to say, I thought I would never get out of there alive. Let's just say I have been feeling a slight, um, allergy to blogging as of late. Perhaps it's the heat. Or maybe it's because I have been working 8,742 hours per week, all while trying to bully contractors into finishing my backyard and my basement. Actually, if you want a really good visual to go along with that, picture this - me with my hair ratted out to Zimbabwe (or maybe a few well placed chunks missing), running around in circles whilst my arms flail about wildly and I scream bloody murder.

Yeah. That'll be a good representation of me right now. Waaaah!

Oh. And we mustn't forget that my ex-husband is coming here to get some things out of my garage tonight. *Please God, grant me the grace that will be required to stop myself from ripping off his bits and shoving them down his throat.*

Hmm. Did I say that out loud? Someone pass the wine, please. To go with my whine. And maybe some cheese too. That would be great, thanks.

So let's see. I had all of these other things about India to share, but since I am lazy, let's just go with a small snippet of video footage I captured with my wee camera. I was really trying to pinpoint the essence of what it's like to drive on the streets of Mumbai, but frankly, most of my clips make me carsick to watch...so, apologies in advance if that happens to you. This is one of the best ones - try to imagine, if you will:

• ...that it is usually much more dangerous and exciting than this. And yet? I didn't feel scared while I was in the car. In hindsight, I'm thinking now that I probably should have put my seat belt on.
• ...that driving there is a little like playing "Frogger" - there is no concept of lanes - just the skill involved with racing around rickshaws and the forty-eleven thousand people that litter the streets. Oh! And making turns across traffic by butting in front of anything that might be in your way. Remember that little concept we have here about the "right of way"? Hahahaha. What's that again? I might need a little re-training now that I am back.
• ...that you will be travelling through the swanky streets, but they won't stick to you like the few sad, dirty slum roads you traverse - you know, the roads where you might see a small child peeing in the street while his father brushes his teeth over the pile of poo their cow/goat/dog just crapped into the gutter. Except, now that I think about it, there's really no gutter.
• ...that honking your horn is a courtesy - it's like saying, "hey man, I'm on your left, lemme by." And in response, you would tip your hat (or maybe that's just what we cowgirls do) and smile instead of flipping the bird.
• ...and that your chances of being rear ended are like 9 in 10. Or whatever. I don't have the wicked fast math skills required to figure out the real chances, but we did get hit TWICE while we were there. Mere 'taps' to the bumper and such. I am not sure I would have wanted to be raced to the neared hospital via an exhaust encompassed rickshaw. They would have had to strap me to the top with bungee cords.

Probably that last bullet should belong with the first. Ach - whatever.

UPDATE: this is the crappiest video I have, but stupid blogger won't upload any of the others. Let's see if your imaginative skills really work with the few tips I provided above.

Ahh, India. I love you and hate you at the same time. Maybe I'll come back again someday, but if I do, you better have put a spit shine on the Taj Mahal, 'cause that'll be my first stop.

Stuck in Airport Hell

I'd just like to take this opportunity to say YAY for the Proactive vending machine in JFK. After a 16 and 1/2 hour flight, my face was in desperate need of a good scrub this fine morning, and alas, I had no soap. So thank you, kind vending gods.

I was also surprised to find that I had acquired THE SWEETEST hairdo of my life after the longest flight of death EVER. Although the plane we were on was possibly the coolest thing ever imagined (dude! beds that lay totally flat within their own little private cubicles), sleeping like a rock for 9 hours straight did nothing for me. So here's another shout out to the man who invented the idea of the tourist shop in the airport...and also to the creator of the classic NY Yankees ball cap. Without your help, I would be wandering these halls looking like a female sasquatch.

Ahh...vanity. Or whatever.

But ov coooourse...I digress. The real reason for my post today was to allow me to present 3 MORE THINGS ABOUT INDIA for your reading pleasure. Actually, let's be honest: this is more for my writing pleasure. And a way to pass the next 5 hours of ungodly layover time I am staring in the face. *la la la*

Thing #1: Aren't these little ladies the sweetest angels you've ever seen? As we were walking out of the Jain temple, the tour guide started telling us about these good luck "charm" things laying on the board* at their feet. My original intention was to take a picture of those, but then I was bewitched by those big eyes. The "charm" things though - this is a huge thing over there. It starts with that...mmm...little green round vegetable thing, a carrot, and 7 green beans...then ends with a piece of chocolate (please note my exquisite short term memory skills here - I can't know what the hell kind of veggies they are, but whatever. Work with me, people.); the gist is that you hang this at your place of business to ward off bad luck for the next 7 days. So you see these EVERYWHERE - hanging off of taxi bumpers and rickshaw meters. I personally don't go in for such superstitions myself, but I thought it was intriguing that such a large population there does. Please note the cash in that lady's hand - you have to pay people to take their picture there. Best 10 rupees I ever spent.





Thing 2: So then we headed to a park called the Hanging Gardens...where I found this lovely "hind-english" sign, which cracked me up:


...and also some lovely "Edward Scissorhands" type creations:

This park is right next to the Parsi burial ground (actually, burial towersthat you can't see). How's this for fascinating - when a Parsi dies, he is taken to these towers, and after being wrapped in white and prayed over, he is marched to the top of the tower, laid on an iron grate, and left for the vultures. As they consume the body, the bones fall through the iron grate and are later burned. So everything is returned to the earth without actually returning it to the earth - as we do western style. I am not kidding when I tell you that there were vultures circling just over the hill from where we stood.

I have mixed feelings about that. While I respect it, it's not the way I want to go. AT ALL.

Thing 3: And then - my FAVORITE! A real, local market. This is the kind of place that tourists NEVER go to:

Honestly? I think our guide just wanted to buy some broccoli and some strawberry tea**, but truthfully? I loved seeing this. It feels more real than the ritzy tourist traps...more "true to life" for the typical Mumbai-an. Mumbai-ist? Mumbai-ite? For instance - the guy in the shot below. This shop is his livelihood - his life, actually. Notice the hatch in the roof above his head? That's how he gets TO HIS BED, because not only does he work here, but he lives here too. On top of his store. It's like living on the top shelf of a warehouse, and the amount of living space you are allocated is like 5 feet by maybe 7 feet.

I hope he becomes a millionaire someday.

So hmm. Only another 4 and 1/2 hours to go until my flight home. And then? Then I plan to DEVOUR A WHOLE COW. The Indian diet is so high in carbs!

Here's a freebie, since I have time to waste - the Arabian Sea:

* Please forgive...but I cannot remember the name of anything Indian. They speak so fast that I hardly have my head wrapped around the first vowel before they are talking about the next subject.
** And oh! It's the only place I ever saw a Mt. Dew the whole time I was there. I didn't dare to drink it though.

An Outsider's Perspective

The company I am visiting here arranged a tour of Mumbai for us on Saturday - so we saw just about everything you can see. Slums, homelessness, pollution...but also some brilliant architecture, industrial genious, and the Arabian Sea. This place is a sociologist's dream - the "have's" and the "have not's", money and poverty everywhere - a culture that contains anything you can imagine. Here are two of them - pretend you are in your 7th grade Geography class, and allow me to share what I learned with you:

This? This is the outdoor laundry. There are several around the city...and each launderer is self employed and has his own clientele. He shows up at your door, picks up your things, marks them with chalk, and gives you a claim check listing everything you gave him. He does this for all of your neighbors, and then heads to the laundry...where he makes his own soap, pays for his booth rent, and proceeds to beat the hell out of each item until it is the crispest white you have ever seen. Here's the amazing thing about this operation - THEY HAVE A SIX SIGMA RATING, which, as those of you in the business world know, is pretty hard to do. It means that from a quality perspective, they are virtually never late, rarely ever misplace anything, and hardly ever ruin anything (there are all sorts of fancy metrics around their performance) - basically though, it's as close to a flawless operation as you can get - something that is studied in MBA programs around the world. And those whites? Seriously - whiter than anything I have ever seen.

Pretty amazing, given that grubby water.

So then we headed to the Jain temple. If I remember correctly, this is the richest religion in India, and also the smallest. Their monks NEVER take a bath in their lives, and they yank their hair out at the roots so that they are completely bald. How's that for a beauty operation? This temple is covered in real gold...the doors and the altar are solid silver. It's beautiful.

So there you have it - 2 tourist things about India, from me to you.

OH! And yesterday? Yesterday I took a rickshaw home from the office. Hee!

Yer not in Kansas anymore, yo.

How do I know this, you ask? Observe:

This? This is the lovely view from my swanky hotel room:

And this? A perpetual cricket game THAT IS REALLY PERPETUAL. I don't think these boys have stopped to pee since I got here. Also outside my window.

Ahh, and this - my favorite new mode of transportation. This place is like an anthill of motorized rickshaws.

And finally - see the divider on the right? Um, yeah. AND THAT DRIVER COMING STRAIGHT TOWARD US? One of us is supposed to be on the OTHER SIDE OF that divider, and it ain't us. So much for the effing right of way. Amazingly? I don't feel unsafe driving around. Jamie? Your heart would give out. Never drive or ride in a car here. Lil' safety tip for ya.

And PS: What the *%$# is going on with Blogger formatting lately? Is it just me, or does arranging pictures and trying to figure out this double spacing thing make you want to GOUGE YOUR EYES OUT WITH A MOTORIZED RICKSHAW?

Ahh. India. And excessive capital letterage. My favorites.

Holy Shit! I'm going to India. By myself.

So the last month seems to have gone by in a flash - and right now, I am sitting in the airport President's Club in NY waiting for my SIXTEEN HOUR flight to Mumbai. Or Bombay if you're into all that British colonialism (and you live under a rock).

And although I am meeting 3 colleagues there on Tuesday, they are all leaving the following Sunday, and thus, I will be spending the following week there ALONE. BY MYSELF.

*CRAPPING MY PANTS, whilst Bridget Jones starts to croon "all by myself" in the background*

I am not entirely sure that my capital letter-age adequately captures the severity of my current level of anxiety. Perhaps it's because of this email that Karen sent to me the other day (I would attach a picture, but Grr! I can't get into my email.), where there were wires and electrical hazards all over the place, and people walking around like there was no danger whatsoever...and all I could think about was "Please bless that it never rains there, because I'd hate to be the guy standing in a puddle of water on THAT street at any given moment...".

I'll attach later. But seriously - let's be honest - THAT IS FRIGHTENING. So frightening that I am considering wrapping myself in rubber tires anytime that I may be outdoors, just in case one of those wires decides to make a mad dash for the top of my head.

It could be that I am having nerves because of the SEVEN-POINT-NINE magnitude earthquake in China. Or the FREAKISH CYCLONE in Myanmar, a close neighbor to lovely India.

Or maybe I am just turning into my little ol' blue haired grandma, and there's no helping it. Whatever the case, I'll send pictures (if I ever get any...alas, the beloved Canon is not making this pilgrimage with me, so you'll have to settle for 3.5 mega pixels).

Lay Your Poo on the Table

And maybe your cards too, if you think about it. Ohhhh no. Don't hold back.

So I just got back from a business dinner with...mmm...19 or so guys from India, and during the course of the conversation, I mentioned that my degree was in Sociology. AND I KID.YOU.NOT - one of the guys did that thing - you know - that thing where you LAUGH OUT LOUD FROM YOUR TOES, COVER YOUR MOUTH, AND POINT. And it wasn't the polite, 2 fingered, flight attendant point either. This was the "index-finger-only, point-out-the-dumb-ass" kind of a point. The dumb ass who paid good money to get a degree in sociology, and not in engineering, like the rest of the geniuses sitting at the table.

Editors note: This is where you start humming that one "Sesame Street" song: "...one of these kids is doing his own thing..."

Lovely. Reeeallly lovely. He might as well have plugged his nose, backed up his chair, and proceeded to run from the room with his arms flailing - like you'd do if there was a wad of poo on the dinner table or something.

So I am not quite sure what to make of this - this "happy" encounter. Perhaps it's a cultural thing?

I'm gonna go ahead and tell myself that. That's it - that's how they show respect to their colleagues in India.


AM I RIGHT?



"...come on, can you tell which one?"

"Qi" on This, Stupid Internet

I woke up this morning to a bedroom in disarray. See, I have been painting my house in what I like to call a 'phased approach' (which really just means I am lazy and my attention span wanes before I can finish the whole thing properly, but whatever). Yesterday, it turns out, I needed to paint a wall in my family room, so I recruited some movers, and my entertainment center ended up in my sitting room.

Hence, the disarray.

So I am lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, when I think to myself, "oh man, I have GOT to get this room put back together...". I start chewing on what I am going to do with all of the extra furniture I suddenly have, where am I going to put it and la di da, when it hits me - perhaps I should think about rearranging the furniture in my bedroom.

And if you know me, you know that my bedroom is my sanctuary, my room for resplendent respite, the place I go to recharge and relax, and that I love it, just as it is (movie ref?). But whatever. I can always put it back, right? And then the brilliant idea hits me that I should go Google "Feng Shui", and get some ideas there.

And therein lies my problem, people.

WHAT THE HELL? Is the problem that this is a confusing concept, or that we "designer-y wanna be types" have flooded the internet with our diluted interpretations of real Chinese concepts? That must be it. We've ruined it, and I can't tell my head from my ass in terms of Feng Shui. What I can say, based on my 20 minutes of research, is that IN EVERY NOOK AND CRANNY OF MY BELOVED HOME, I am inviting ruin and sure destruction in. I am surprised I am still breathing. Or that a rat hasn't chewed off my arm because I have been lying with my head oriented to the North since I moved in.

Whew.

Here's what I have been chewing on since my research started -

• The element that rules my life, or my birth element, is WOOD. Hmm. I like wood. From a decorating perspective, I prefer it over metal, so that must be good. Or is it? Now I am panicking because I think I read that wood destroys metal or whatever, so maybe I am inviting the destructive forces of life into my home? Gah!
• According to my birth element and based on the time of my birth, my favored direction is East/SE. So I should orient my front door, the direction of my desk, or sleeping position this way. I am outta luck on the front door thing, and my bed would be under a window if I put my bed that way, which I seem to remember reading is essentially an open invitation to man eating zombies everywhere - "Please! Make an appetizer of my brains every night!" Hmm. So that's out, until I can get some expert advice on the subject.
• My Kua Number is either 7 or 5, depending on the website. Which means I should actually face my bed west. But doesn't that conflict with my favored direction? And furthermore, what do I do with my dresser and mirror? Since I currently have a mirror directly opposite my bed, my life has been doomed anyway - because evidently, my unconscious-self wrestles with itself in the mirror everynight, which in turn leads to less-than-restful sleep. No wonder I have perma-bags under my eyes.

So whatever. Until I find me a certified, all knowing Chinese practitioner, I think my qi is destined for despair.

And this saddens me.

*sigh*