Gorging on Pani-puri at the roadside chaatwaala.
Rasam sadam for lunch...practically everyday.
Having a very good net connection at home.
Not having to eat cereal for breakfast EVERY single day.
Thair sadam with puli-inji.
Shopping at Hy-Fashion. None of this stupid browsing in the mall. He shows you every single thing you ask for...and you pick. If you're me..you pick pretty quickly.
Getting a good pedicure. This is true bliss. The ultimate pleasure. I may have died and gone to heaven.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Close encounters of the "woh" kind
Its been a busy week. I travelled a little bit to meet with friends and family. Its always lovely to meet people you've known forever, but haven't met for years. Its amazing how easily you can slip back into the old comfort zone. On the itinerary were bestest friend, school friend whom I email once a year, favorite uncle, recently married cousin, and once young cousins who are now alarmingly grown up.
In the course of random conversations, I was reminded of a story. Ancient history now. But still funny. Best friend brought it up of course. She always does if there is an audience to amuse. Back in the day when I was an eager beaver at Laxmanrao Apte Prashala (11th std.), we had to perform Physics practicals in groups of 3. The lab was this tiny, stuffy room that looked like it had been hit by an earthquake. The equipment definitely belonged to the days of the British Raj. (Unrelated aside: Apte Prashala did not have a restroom for women. Its un-freakin-believable, how we managed to never pee during college hours!)
I did the practicals with 2 guys whose surnames followed mine in the attendance sheet. Lets just call them AW and VV. Nice guys, the 2 of 'em. VV had the smelliest hair ever. I had to smell his hair because perforce we bent over the instruments during the course of our practicals, and I was taller than him. AW was OK, i.e his hair didn't stink. In those days, my Marathi was non-existent and his English wasn't upto speed either. But, on the whole, his English was way better than my Marathi..therefore we communicated in English.
We were performing the magnetometer practical. I was moving the magnet(I think it was the magnet!) and he was taking the reading. VV was just looking on. So, AW was instructing me on the position of the magnet and where I should move it.
AW: OK...almost there.
Me: OK. Where should I move it?
AW: Come closer
Me: What?
AW: Come closer
Me: OK. I Move the magnet closer to the centre and blush furiously. I was only 16 or 17. 17 year olds blush easy.
AW: OK...Closer
Me: See above
AW: Come closer
Me: Ditto above
AW: Closer, more closer
Me: Red as a tomato by now. VV looks on passively. He doesn't think its funny. I'm happy he doesn't get it. I hear my friends giggling at the next table.
AW: Thats it. We got it.
Me: Thankfully escape after jotting down readings.
Oustside the lab 3 unmercifully giggly, extremely silly girls were waiting for me.
Girl 1: Why are you so pink?
Me: It was hot in there.
Girl2: Hot...its December. We were wearing sweaters.
Me: Ya. But it gets hot during the practical with so many people in there.
Girl2: Hmmm. AW is cute no? What do you think?
Me: Errr...No.
Girl3: Then why did you blush when he asked you to come closer?
Everyone giggles except me. I turn redder, if thats possible.
Me: Shut up. He didn't mean it. He didn't know what it meant.
More giggles.
Girl1: Then why did you turn pink? You like him...right?
Me: NO!
More laughter.
Just imagine subtle variations in the above conversation...and thats what I went through for the next 2 weeks. Everytime AW said hello to me, it like he was serenading me. Not fun. I blushed and blushed until my cheeks were permanently pink whilst in class. Then, an exam came up. Everyone started to study. And everyone forgot. Except this friend of mine. Who keeps bringing it up every 3 years or so.
I thought I'd better pen it for posterity. So that people know before she can tell them. And I can e-blush without anyone ever knowing.
In the course of random conversations, I was reminded of a story. Ancient history now. But still funny. Best friend brought it up of course. She always does if there is an audience to amuse. Back in the day when I was an eager beaver at Laxmanrao Apte Prashala (11th std.), we had to perform Physics practicals in groups of 3. The lab was this tiny, stuffy room that looked like it had been hit by an earthquake. The equipment definitely belonged to the days of the British Raj. (Unrelated aside: Apte Prashala did not have a restroom for women. Its un-freakin-believable, how we managed to never pee during college hours!)
I did the practicals with 2 guys whose surnames followed mine in the attendance sheet. Lets just call them AW and VV. Nice guys, the 2 of 'em. VV had the smelliest hair ever. I had to smell his hair because perforce we bent over the instruments during the course of our practicals, and I was taller than him. AW was OK, i.e his hair didn't stink. In those days, my Marathi was non-existent and his English wasn't upto speed either. But, on the whole, his English was way better than my Marathi..therefore we communicated in English.
We were performing the magnetometer practical. I was moving the magnet(I think it was the magnet!) and he was taking the reading. VV was just looking on. So, AW was instructing me on the position of the magnet and where I should move it.
AW: OK...almost there.
Me: OK. Where should I move it?
AW: Come closer
Me: What?
AW: Come closer
Me: OK. I Move the magnet closer to the centre and blush furiously. I was only 16 or 17. 17 year olds blush easy.
AW: OK...Closer
Me: See above
AW: Come closer
Me: Ditto above
AW: Closer, more closer
Me: Red as a tomato by now. VV looks on passively. He doesn't think its funny. I'm happy he doesn't get it. I hear my friends giggling at the next table.
AW: Thats it. We got it.
Me: Thankfully escape after jotting down readings.
Oustside the lab 3 unmercifully giggly, extremely silly girls were waiting for me.
Girl 1: Why are you so pink?
Me: It was hot in there.
Girl2: Hot...its December. We were wearing sweaters.
Me: Ya. But it gets hot during the practical with so many people in there.
Girl2: Hmmm. AW is cute no? What do you think?
Me: Errr...No.
Girl3: Then why did you blush when he asked you to come closer?
Everyone giggles except me. I turn redder, if thats possible.
Me: Shut up. He didn't mean it. He didn't know what it meant.
More giggles.
Girl1: Then why did you turn pink? You like him...right?
Me: NO!
More laughter.
Just imagine subtle variations in the above conversation...and thats what I went through for the next 2 weeks. Everytime AW said hello to me, it like he was serenading me. Not fun. I blushed and blushed until my cheeks were permanently pink whilst in class. Then, an exam came up. Everyone started to study. And everyone forgot. Except this friend of mine. Who keeps bringing it up every 3 years or so.
I thought I'd better pen it for posterity. So that people know before she can tell them. And I can e-blush without anyone ever knowing.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Salsa on demand
For the loyal reader who requested a post.(You know who you are)
Lessons learnt in the last week:
1). Those Neeta Volvo dudes in Dadar are wolves. Absolute wolves. Wolves who don't even own a watch.
2). You need to shower atleast twice a day in Bombay. Even in December.
3). Its not enough to feel happy. You must show it. By smiling until your jaw hurts. Especially when you are being photographed.
4). Chatting until 4am is the most cathartic experience. Especially when you are chatting about nothing and everything. And the opposite party is actually listening to you talk.
5). Shiv Sagars are excellent restaurants the world over.
6). If you are tired enough you CAN actually sleep in a bus. (I have never been able to sleep in a bus until today. An epoch in my life. Or, I'm senesceing.)
7). Coffee from the vending machine is not that bad.
8). I am more addicted to coffee than I ever imagined.
9). If you don't want to cry tears of blood, avoid Ilaiyai, Iniya, Imsai Thalapathi Vijay's Azhagiya Tamizh Magan like the plague. Vijay should know that there is only one Thalaivar. And its not him.
10). This vacation is making me sappy. While what I really want be is "hap".(Its how the lukkha refers to hip.) Don't think its going to happen though. Oh, well. If not hap...I can atleast be hap-py.(There..that bad joke takes care of the kitsch factor for the day. As if writing about buses, sleeping habits, and showering habits isn't enough!)
Lessons learnt in the last week:
1). Those Neeta Volvo dudes in Dadar are wolves. Absolute wolves. Wolves who don't even own a watch.
2). You need to shower atleast twice a day in Bombay. Even in December.
3). Its not enough to feel happy. You must show it. By smiling until your jaw hurts. Especially when you are being photographed.
4). Chatting until 4am is the most cathartic experience. Especially when you are chatting about nothing and everything. And the opposite party is actually listening to you talk.
5). Shiv Sagars are excellent restaurants the world over.
6). If you are tired enough you CAN actually sleep in a bus. (I have never been able to sleep in a bus until today. An epoch in my life. Or, I'm senesceing.)
7). Coffee from the vending machine is not that bad.
8). I am more addicted to coffee than I ever imagined.
9). If you don't want to cry tears of blood, avoid Ilaiyai, Iniya, Imsai Thalapathi Vijay's Azhagiya Tamizh Magan like the plague. Vijay should know that there is only one Thalaivar. And its not him.
10). This vacation is making me sappy. While what I really want be is "hap".(Its how the lukkha refers to hip.) Don't think its going to happen though. Oh, well. If not hap...I can atleast be hap-py.(There..that bad joke takes care of the kitsch factor for the day. As if writing about buses, sleeping habits, and showering habits isn't enough!)
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Everything's changed!
1). Sunrise Cafe is no more. I almost cried. I loved their pineapple ripple ice-cream. So many pleasant memories are associated with that place. Sigh!
2). A five year old told me I needed to do my hair better.(Gulp!)
3). Said five year old also pointed out that I wasn't wearing bangles. (Bangles are the only jewelery I dislike profoundly.) I didn't even know what bangles were when I was five. Shouldn't they be seen and not heard, or some such thing?
4). Everyone on the streets looks about 10 years younger than me.(double sigh!)
5). There are so many new shops on Paud Road, I barely know it anymore. I'm just glad Durga and Ganesh Bhel are still around.
The only thing that has stayed the same is old friendships. Its like catching up right from where you left off. Like you've never been away. That makes everything worth it. Even growing old.
2). A five year old told me I needed to do my hair better.(Gulp!)
3). Said five year old also pointed out that I wasn't wearing bangles. (Bangles are the only jewelery I dislike profoundly.) I didn't even know what bangles were when I was five. Shouldn't they be seen and not heard, or some such thing?
4). Everyone on the streets looks about 10 years younger than me.(double sigh!)
5). There are so many new shops on Paud Road, I barely know it anymore. I'm just glad Durga and Ganesh Bhel are still around.
The only thing that has stayed the same is old friendships. Its like catching up right from where you left off. Like you've never been away. That makes everything worth it. Even growing old.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Why God is not great: A review
Its good to be home. The jet lag is gone. The paruppu usli has been had. Rendezvous with old friends set up. A much needed pedicure awaits. Its all good.
On the flight back home I started to read Christopher Hitchens' God is not great: How religion poisons everything. It was on my to-read list since it came out in May. Its a bit like reading a Michael Moore movie. A point is made. Its a good point. Its made in 11 different ways. And its rammed down your throat so hard your insides hurt. So, my beef with Michael Moore is that he corrupts the basic premise of some of his documentaries with unnecessary railing. And he takes refuge in sarcasm. Sarcasm is all very well, but I personally don't enjoy it in a serious argument.
So, Hitchens writes well. Some of the chapters are really illuminating. I especially enjoyed reading about the complicity of the church in shaping regional politics to their advantage in Nazi germany, in Mussolini's Italy and Stalin's Russia. The chapter on the effect of religion on health care was pretty good too. Its when he starts trying to dissect the Old and New Testaments and the Koran that I lost patience. A non-believer can find something laughable in every line of religious books. To find discrepancies in logic in these texts( No archaeologists ever found evidence of events in Exodus and suchlike) and be shocked at their blood-thirstyness is not new. Further, he spends a whole chapter explaining that Islam is a derivative of Christianity, and the Koran is essentially a plagiarism of Jewish and Christian texts. Again...well-known facts. Not worth an entire chapter.
An interesting chapter is the one asking the question whether religion makes people behave. Events in India and abroad have convinced me that the answer is a thumping no. He puts an interesting spin on things. While he seems to be a big fan of Martin Luther King, he makes the argument that he was a great humanist and leader inspite of being a pastor, rather than because of it. He even talks about MLK's unalloyed enjoyment of booze and women, and seems to rather relish the fact that he was morally "corrupt", but still stood on high ground due to his belief and work on behalf of civil liberty. I've always thought peoples' personal lives are just that. Personal. But I guess if you are a pastor you have a responsibility, no? I don't know much about MLK, so I won't speculate on this. Its an interesting paradox though.
He also chops Eastern religions to bits. Of course there is the usual 1 and a half page on the Rajneesh ashram in Pune. He doesn't seem to have anything much to say about Hinduism,(I'm guessing he doesn't know as much about it as he does the others), except to evince contempt for the sacred cow concept. And wrongly state that Krishna was born to a virgin named Devaka! He does spew vitriol against Buddhism. The chapter is titled "There is no Eastern solution." I guess he's trying to come full circle and make sure there are no loose ends. His reasearch leaves much to be desired. A shocking blooper is when he writes that the LTTE murdered an elected Indian President! How did that one slip through the editors?
Also, he seems to have the old Brit dislike for Gandhi. 2 pages are devoted to calling him obscurantist, and other names. And he thanks goodness we had Nehru to lead us! I don't think he has any insight into Indian politics or the struggle for independence at all. Its just unbelievably naive. Besides, the MLK of whom he purports to be such a big fan of, was an ardent follower of Gandhian principles.
On the whole I enjoyed the book. He makes several good points, not the least of which is that atheists should be free to think what they think, and not have to constantly defend their POV. That people have been abused in the name of religion. That religion has stood in the way of progress, and has been used effectively to frighten people into submission. Nothing that we didn't know. But lots of interesting history and facts. And mostly well written and easy to read. Plus, it had the effect of scandalising my patti, when I told her what I was reading. So, yeah...definitely worth a read.
On the flight back home I started to read Christopher Hitchens' God is not great: How religion poisons everything. It was on my to-read list since it came out in May. Its a bit like reading a Michael Moore movie. A point is made. Its a good point. Its made in 11 different ways. And its rammed down your throat so hard your insides hurt. So, my beef with Michael Moore is that he corrupts the basic premise of some of his documentaries with unnecessary railing. And he takes refuge in sarcasm. Sarcasm is all very well, but I personally don't enjoy it in a serious argument.
So, Hitchens writes well. Some of the chapters are really illuminating. I especially enjoyed reading about the complicity of the church in shaping regional politics to their advantage in Nazi germany, in Mussolini's Italy and Stalin's Russia. The chapter on the effect of religion on health care was pretty good too. Its when he starts trying to dissect the Old and New Testaments and the Koran that I lost patience. A non-believer can find something laughable in every line of religious books. To find discrepancies in logic in these texts( No archaeologists ever found evidence of events in Exodus and suchlike) and be shocked at their blood-thirstyness is not new. Further, he spends a whole chapter explaining that Islam is a derivative of Christianity, and the Koran is essentially a plagiarism of Jewish and Christian texts. Again...well-known facts. Not worth an entire chapter.
An interesting chapter is the one asking the question whether religion makes people behave. Events in India and abroad have convinced me that the answer is a thumping no. He puts an interesting spin on things. While he seems to be a big fan of Martin Luther King, he makes the argument that he was a great humanist and leader inspite of being a pastor, rather than because of it. He even talks about MLK's unalloyed enjoyment of booze and women, and seems to rather relish the fact that he was morally "corrupt", but still stood on high ground due to his belief and work on behalf of civil liberty. I've always thought peoples' personal lives are just that. Personal. But I guess if you are a pastor you have a responsibility, no? I don't know much about MLK, so I won't speculate on this. Its an interesting paradox though.
He also chops Eastern religions to bits. Of course there is the usual 1 and a half page on the Rajneesh ashram in Pune. He doesn't seem to have anything much to say about Hinduism,(I'm guessing he doesn't know as much about it as he does the others), except to evince contempt for the sacred cow concept. And wrongly state that Krishna was born to a virgin named Devaka! He does spew vitriol against Buddhism. The chapter is titled "There is no Eastern solution." I guess he's trying to come full circle and make sure there are no loose ends. His reasearch leaves much to be desired. A shocking blooper is when he writes that the LTTE murdered an elected Indian President! How did that one slip through the editors?
Also, he seems to have the old Brit dislike for Gandhi. 2 pages are devoted to calling him obscurantist, and other names. And he thanks goodness we had Nehru to lead us! I don't think he has any insight into Indian politics or the struggle for independence at all. Its just unbelievably naive. Besides, the MLK of whom he purports to be such a big fan of, was an ardent follower of Gandhian principles.
On the whole I enjoyed the book. He makes several good points, not the least of which is that atheists should be free to think what they think, and not have to constantly defend their POV. That people have been abused in the name of religion. That religion has stood in the way of progress, and has been used effectively to frighten people into submission. Nothing that we didn't know. But lots of interesting history and facts. And mostly well written and easy to read. Plus, it had the effect of scandalising my patti, when I told her what I was reading. So, yeah...definitely worth a read.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Conversations & Movies: The oxygen needed for living
Stuff's been happening. Roomie is back from her vacation. I'm relieved to have someone to talk to at home again. People who know me know that I talk to myself all the time. But, even by my standards, I was a little cuckoo last month. I was talking to myself aloud. All the time. People were giving me funny looks in coffee shops and grocery stores. So, when she got back I talked and talked and talked until my throat hurt and I couldn't talk anymore. Topics of conversation ranged from her wonderful vacation, to Lucky Ali and how disgusting he was, to Adnan Sami and how good he looks now, Ekta Kapoor, Tulsi, Shahid Kapoor, Kareena's schooling(yeah she actually went to school!), Om Puri whom she saw on a beach in Goa, Sreesanth's weirdness at Delhi Airport, how it sucks to be back, how India rocks, how family is family(yeah, seriously!), how obnoxious some relatives are, ad nauseum.
And she brought back movie DVDs. So luckily, roomie and I enjoy the same kind of movies. Yesterday we watched Naram Garam and Pati, Patni aur Woh. Sanjeev Kumar was such a genius. He plays the dirty married man to perfection. I've seen this before, and its a hoot. It always bugs me when I can't remember the name of the not-so-popular 80s heroines. Thank goodness for Google. It was Ranjeeta. Naram Garam has a huge Golmaal hangover. But its still fun. Because Amol Palekar is casual and fun as always. And I love A.K.Hangal. No, seriously. The man plays the old, beleagered parent to perfection. And he calls his beautiful daughter Swaroop Sampat a"gale ka kaanta" with such aplomb, so many times over, its hard not to love the guy. And Utpal Dutt. God, they don't make 'em like him anymore. He was stereotyped too. But what the heck. He did it well everytime. I love those movies. 70's-80's. Bad costumes, big hair. But good stories. And well told. And brilliantly portrayed. With melodious music, usually classical. Whats not to like.
Here's my list of the fun movies from that era that everyone must watch:
1). Chupke Chupke
2). Chashme-baddoor
3). Golmaal
4). Khubsoorat
5). Khatta Meetha
6). Katha
7). Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron(of course!)
8). Angoor
9). Guddi
10). Chhoti si baat
Next Post: Why I heart Shammi Kapoor.
And she brought back movie DVDs. So luckily, roomie and I enjoy the same kind of movies. Yesterday we watched Naram Garam and Pati, Patni aur Woh. Sanjeev Kumar was such a genius. He plays the dirty married man to perfection. I've seen this before, and its a hoot. It always bugs me when I can't remember the name of the not-so-popular 80s heroines. Thank goodness for Google. It was Ranjeeta. Naram Garam has a huge Golmaal hangover. But its still fun. Because Amol Palekar is casual and fun as always. And I love A.K.Hangal. No, seriously. The man plays the old, beleagered parent to perfection. And he calls his beautiful daughter Swaroop Sampat a"gale ka kaanta" with such aplomb, so many times over, its hard not to love the guy. And Utpal Dutt. God, they don't make 'em like him anymore. He was stereotyped too. But what the heck. He did it well everytime. I love those movies. 70's-80's. Bad costumes, big hair. But good stories. And well told. And brilliantly portrayed. With melodious music, usually classical. Whats not to like.
Here's my list of the fun movies from that era that everyone must watch:
1). Chupke Chupke
2). Chashme-baddoor
3). Golmaal
4). Khubsoorat
5). Khatta Meetha
6). Katha
7). Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron(of course!)
8). Angoor
9). Guddi
10). Chhoti si baat
Next Post: Why I heart Shammi Kapoor.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Going home.
I'm going home next week. For 1 whole month. No mouse poop. No failed experiments. No pissed off PI. Nothing. Just me. The couch. And the TV remote. I'm going to watch every single soap, ("K" or otherwise) every single day. And eat like a pig from Somalia. Oh...and family will be around too. I'll have to put up with my Jack*@% brother's smart%$# comments for a month. One patti will dote on me. The other one will dote even more to ensure that she dotes the most. There will be gushing. I also expect to meet an assortment of relatives. One awesome mama who was the original inspiration for the family's overwhelming fascination with Wodehouse. Two attais. One attimber. One chitti and chittappa. One cousin who is (gulp!) 22 years younger than me. I expect a fair bit of discussion over my single status. Most of which I will bear with fortitude. The remaining I will tune out of.
Also one very special friend is getting hitched. That promises to be fun. I missed the weddings of 2 close friends because I was here doing nothing important. This one I was NOT going to miss. I've never been the bride's best friend at a wedding. I already have plans for a bachelorette party. I feel like Julia Roberts. Because I'm going to be at My Best Friend's Wedding!(how cute is THAT?) Except my best friend is female. And I really like her fiance. I'm sure they'll be brilliantly happy together. And I look nothing like Julia anyway.
And my mom and I will watch every single movie that is released while I'm there...hopefully 1st day, 1st show. Plus the backlog of movies from the last couple of months. I still haven't seen OSO and Aaja Nachle. And we will giggle over silly things. And she will cook the most delectable meals everyday. Like rasam and beans curry. Or paruppu usli and rasam. Or pongal and chutney. Its amazing how much nonsense I can put up with when I'm well-fed. I think thats the reason for my perpetual state of annoyance here. The lack of homemade food.
Good food. TV that shows silly hindi soaps 24/7. Lots of movies. Large, inviting couch. One month of doing nothing. Oh...its going to be wonderful!
And here's the thing. I'm going home next week. And I haven't shopped yet. No time. PI was getting his money's worth this past 10 days or so, since his lackey won't be around for a month. I haven't even bought a freakin' Mars bar yet. And I know no one gives a shit about the cheap chocolates that I lug back from here. Chocolates that are available in India as well. But I have to buy them. Its the thing to do. You go to India...you take chocolates. And Planters honey roasted nuts as well. And cheap perfume. And scented candles.(The cheap ones that don't really have a scent for friends who never call, and the better ones for the friends I never call) So, I need to go shopping. Now.
Update: I wrote this post when I hadn't shopped. I have since rectified the situation. I have bought the cheap chocolates, and I feel much more prepared now.
And I forgot to add...I won't have to wear 3 layers of clothing and cap and gloves and scarf when I step out back home. Not that I'm going to step out much. But still. Its frickin' freezing here...19F this morning.
I hope Tuesday comes quickly. Can't wait. Since I've said that time will now crawl. Tuesday...come soon! Please!
Also one very special friend is getting hitched. That promises to be fun. I missed the weddings of 2 close friends because I was here doing nothing important. This one I was NOT going to miss. I've never been the bride's best friend at a wedding. I already have plans for a bachelorette party. I feel like Julia Roberts. Because I'm going to be at My Best Friend's Wedding!(how cute is THAT?) Except my best friend is female. And I really like her fiance. I'm sure they'll be brilliantly happy together. And I look nothing like Julia anyway.
And my mom and I will watch every single movie that is released while I'm there...hopefully 1st day, 1st show. Plus the backlog of movies from the last couple of months. I still haven't seen OSO and Aaja Nachle. And we will giggle over silly things. And she will cook the most delectable meals everyday. Like rasam and beans curry. Or paruppu usli and rasam. Or pongal and chutney. Its amazing how much nonsense I can put up with when I'm well-fed. I think thats the reason for my perpetual state of annoyance here. The lack of homemade food.
Good food. TV that shows silly hindi soaps 24/7. Lots of movies. Large, inviting couch. One month of doing nothing. Oh...its going to be wonderful!
And here's the thing. I'm going home next week. And I haven't shopped yet. No time. PI was getting his money's worth this past 10 days or so, since his lackey won't be around for a month. I haven't even bought a freakin' Mars bar yet. And I know no one gives a shit about the cheap chocolates that I lug back from here. Chocolates that are available in India as well. But I have to buy them. Its the thing to do. You go to India...you take chocolates. And Planters honey roasted nuts as well. And cheap perfume. And scented candles.(The cheap ones that don't really have a scent for friends who never call, and the better ones for the friends I never call) So, I need to go shopping. Now.
Update: I wrote this post when I hadn't shopped. I have since rectified the situation. I have bought the cheap chocolates, and I feel much more prepared now.
And I forgot to add...I won't have to wear 3 layers of clothing and cap and gloves and scarf when I step out back home. Not that I'm going to step out much. But still. Its frickin' freezing here...19F this morning.
I hope Tuesday comes quickly. Can't wait. Since I've said that time will now crawl. Tuesday...come soon! Please!
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Friday, November 30, 2007
Random rant!
I'm a freakin' secretary. Not a scientist. A secretary. Who files things. And record things. Nicely. Because just recording experiments won't do. They have to be recorded nicely. So they look beautiful. What is this...a freakin' beauty pageant?
I hate science. I hate everything. My chakras are totally out of sync with each other. My aura is colored moldy green today. I've swallowed 3 cups of coffee and a LOT of pride.
Oh well....it can't get worse...right?
I hate science. I hate everything. My chakras are totally out of sync with each other. My aura is colored moldy green today. I've swallowed 3 cups of coffee and a LOT of pride.
Oh well....it can't get worse...right?
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
About ChiknaBoy.Oh, and man breasts too.
I have rediscovered the joy of living. You know. The little things. Smell of freshly brewed coffee in the morning. Listening to Matty saying inappropriate things on his Radio show. The tinkling sound of the little Feng Shui fountain of water that sits on my kitchen table. Reading the Times of India. Now, the 5 readers of this blog maybe surprised at that last statement. In the past I have made my feelings about the Times very clear. I thought it was horsecrap. But I have turned over a new leaf. Found my place in the karmic cycle of life. And laughed hysterically over these two gems. Really, someone should post a NSFW warning on the TOI website. But, that little quibble aside....The TOI is a work of art. And, as we all know...A thing of beauty, is a joy forever!
I could waste a lot of time and energy just admiring the sheer vapidity of the articles. Not to mention the innumerable grammatical errors. But it would end up as a 3000 word blogpost. And face it. I don't want to write that...and you ain't gonna read it. So, only a few comments on each article. Lets start with Chintu's Chiknaboy. The title's good. Alliteration is always awesomely amazing. The whole hoopla seems to be because Chiknaboy dropped his pants for a scene in a movie I haven't seen. Thats why all these paens are being sung to his body and how comfortable he is in his own skin. OK. Fair enough. He drops his pants, people notice. Good. I'm happy for Ranbir. Just one or two statements I take exception to.
A). He has his father’s innocence and vulnerability and the young Neetu’s exuberance and joi de vivre (sadly today Neetu has metamorphosed into an unsmiling though svelte older version).
Why all the Neetu hating? Seems uncalled for.
B). This young Adonis has had the unbelievable effect on women of all ages making them admit they love Ranbir for his body! This, in a culture where women are loathe to admit an interest in the male physique, where they will chide themselves for even an involuntary straying of the eyes towards forbidden areas!
Duh! We don't even have sex in our culture...so please....stop all this imagery of women as sexual creatures. Someone set the moral police on this journo please. She's corrupting innocent minds with all her talk of "looking" and "running-to-beds." Chee.
And now...my personal favorite:
C). And with him, he hopefully brings in an era where not just women, but even men drop clothes to win admirers. And where women are open about their admiration of the male form. Where not just female but even male assets are commodified, all in the name of fun and the box-office!
Is this journo for real? Where did she go to journalism school? Did they not teach her that the terms "commodification of assets"(even if it IS a tight male butt that is being commodified) and "fun" should never be in the same sentence? Lady, you need to move to the economics section of the newspaper. You with your big, fancy, economic-sounding words!
OK...moving on. Article No.2. Its one of those articles that makes me feel old. Because after a certain age its hard for your brain to process new concepts. And mine is collapsing under the intellectual weight of the phrase "male cleavage."(from here on referred to as MC) But they do have a picture to help the mentally challenged. I think I have a grasp of the bare bones of the concept. Its a very informative article. Especially for those who aspire to bare their MC.
But there are some questions that must never be asked. Like this one:
What’s the best way for a man to get a heaving bosom?
If I have to answer this(and I really don't want to!), I'd say sex change operation, dude!
Also, finally men get to have their own version of an eating disorder. Lucky them...it doesn't even involve food. And it has a guy sounding name: BIG-o-rexia Nervosa. Jerks! They turn "Ano" into "BIG" and suddenly its a disease! Whatever!
And for the grand finale:
By all means, pound the bench press and gallantly flaunt your ascent from a size S to an L. But be warned: Stop when you reach the ‘lean chiselled pec’, make sure that other parts of your torso too are growing in proportion to avoid looking like a heaving hustler and please leave the peep show to the gender that has been naturally blessed with them.
Yeah..guys. Make your OTHER body parts grow in proportion please. We need proportion. We are all for proportion. Boobs and Ass(get your mind out of the gutter!) must be proportionate to each other. Newton's 5th Law.
I could waste a lot of time and energy just admiring the sheer vapidity of the articles. Not to mention the innumerable grammatical errors. But it would end up as a 3000 word blogpost. And face it. I don't want to write that...and you ain't gonna read it. So, only a few comments on each article. Lets start with Chintu's Chiknaboy. The title's good. Alliteration is always awesomely amazing. The whole hoopla seems to be because Chiknaboy dropped his pants for a scene in a movie I haven't seen. Thats why all these paens are being sung to his body and how comfortable he is in his own skin. OK. Fair enough. He drops his pants, people notice. Good. I'm happy for Ranbir. Just one or two statements I take exception to.
A). He has his father’s innocence and vulnerability and the young Neetu’s exuberance and joi de vivre (sadly today Neetu has metamorphosed into an unsmiling though svelte older version).
Why all the Neetu hating? Seems uncalled for.
B). This young Adonis has had the unbelievable effect on women of all ages making them admit they love Ranbir for his body! This, in a culture where women are loathe to admit an interest in the male physique, where they will chide themselves for even an involuntary straying of the eyes towards forbidden areas!
Duh! We don't even have sex in our culture...so please....stop all this imagery of women as sexual creatures. Someone set the moral police on this journo please. She's corrupting innocent minds with all her talk of "looking" and "running-to-beds." Chee.
And now...my personal favorite:
C). And with him, he hopefully brings in an era where not just women, but even men drop clothes to win admirers. And where women are open about their admiration of the male form. Where not just female but even male assets are commodified, all in the name of fun and the box-office!
Is this journo for real? Where did she go to journalism school? Did they not teach her that the terms "commodification of assets"(even if it IS a tight male butt that is being commodified) and "fun" should never be in the same sentence? Lady, you need to move to the economics section of the newspaper. You with your big, fancy, economic-sounding words!
OK...moving on. Article No.2. Its one of those articles that makes me feel old. Because after a certain age its hard for your brain to process new concepts. And mine is collapsing under the intellectual weight of the phrase "male cleavage."(from here on referred to as MC) But they do have a picture to help the mentally challenged. I think I have a grasp of the bare bones of the concept. Its a very informative article. Especially for those who aspire to bare their MC.
But there are some questions that must never be asked. Like this one:
What’s the best way for a man to get a heaving bosom?
If I have to answer this(and I really don't want to!), I'd say sex change operation, dude!
Also, finally men get to have their own version of an eating disorder. Lucky them...it doesn't even involve food. And it has a guy sounding name: BIG-o-rexia Nervosa. Jerks! They turn "Ano" into "BIG" and suddenly its a disease! Whatever!
And for the grand finale:
By all means, pound the bench press and gallantly flaunt your ascent from a size S to an L. But be warned: Stop when you reach the ‘lean chiselled pec’, make sure that other parts of your torso too are growing in proportion to avoid looking like a heaving hustler and please leave the peep show to the gender that has been naturally blessed with them.
Yeah..guys. Make your OTHER body parts grow in proportion please. We need proportion. We are all for proportion. Boobs and Ass(get your mind out of the gutter!) must be proportionate to each other. Newton's 5th Law.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Only You: A review
I absolutely adore Marisa Tomei. Have ever since I watched My cousin Vinny. She was sassy and spunky, and way smarter than her "lawyer" boyfriend. So, when I was snooping around Blockbuster for a light-hearted movie my eyes fell on "Only You". I figured, what the heck... it can't suck too bad.
So, there I was, sprawled on my sofa, eating my Honey Bunches of Oats(emergency dinner option), trying to write my grant, and watching "Only You." About 10 minutes into the movie, I'd given up all pretense of writing. It was funny. Because she ran to the airport to catch a flight to Venice in her wedding dress (that was really ugly) to meet a guy she'd never even met who was her supposed soulmate. So, I completely do NOT buy that soulmate crap. (I hated Serendipity! Thought it was a terrible movie.) And this one was based on similar lines..guy and girl meet and fall in love because its their Karma. But with so many twists and turns and in such non-destined fashion, that you can't help but melt into a puddle of mush. Marisa Tomei and Robert Downey Jr. light the screen up. They've got great chemistry(or they're really great actors, who can tell.) And just when you think the movie has descended into sap, you find it hasn't. It jumps right up and takes you through a breathless series of events and tiny, unforgettable moments. Like RDJ helping Tomei dress for her date. And picture postcard shots of Italy. The ending is cliched. Of course it is. They literally fly off into the sunset together. But they do it with so much pizazz that you're rooting for them.
I enjoy romantic comedies. Its a genre that if well-done can be a wonderful watch. Of late, its been hard to find a good one. They're either too sappy, or not funny enough. Or, even worse..slapstick "fart-joke" funny. This one's a keeper. Along with When Harry met Sally, It happened one Night, Roman Holiday, The Shop around the Corner and Woman of the Year. Its definitely a keeper. By which I mean that I may buy the DVD. Not that I will never return the rented DVD to Blockbuster.
Note to self: Must visit Venice before it sinks!
So, there I was, sprawled on my sofa, eating my Honey Bunches of Oats(emergency dinner option), trying to write my grant, and watching "Only You." About 10 minutes into the movie, I'd given up all pretense of writing. It was funny. Because she ran to the airport to catch a flight to Venice in her wedding dress (that was really ugly) to meet a guy she'd never even met who was her supposed soulmate. So, I completely do NOT buy that soulmate crap. (I hated Serendipity! Thought it was a terrible movie.) And this one was based on similar lines..guy and girl meet and fall in love because its their Karma. But with so many twists and turns and in such non-destined fashion, that you can't help but melt into a puddle of mush. Marisa Tomei and Robert Downey Jr. light the screen up. They've got great chemistry(or they're really great actors, who can tell.) And just when you think the movie has descended into sap, you find it hasn't. It jumps right up and takes you through a breathless series of events and tiny, unforgettable moments. Like RDJ helping Tomei dress for her date. And picture postcard shots of Italy. The ending is cliched. Of course it is. They literally fly off into the sunset together. But they do it with so much pizazz that you're rooting for them.
I enjoy romantic comedies. Its a genre that if well-done can be a wonderful watch. Of late, its been hard to find a good one. They're either too sappy, or not funny enough. Or, even worse..slapstick "fart-joke" funny. This one's a keeper. Along with When Harry met Sally, It happened one Night, Roman Holiday, The Shop around the Corner and Woman of the Year. Its definitely a keeper. By which I mean that I may buy the DVD. Not that I will never return the rented DVD to Blockbuster.
Note to self: Must visit Venice before it sinks!
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Babies, babies everywhere!
I've been rather quiet this past week because I've been buried under an avalanche of babies. I spent the week at my cousin's place, because he was going away on work and I was needed to give a hand with the kids. Ages 5, 2-and-a-half and 10 months. Why he thought I would be helpful is a million dollar question. I am not one of those girls who fawns over babies. I like them...most of them. At a distance. I can even play with them...for about 5 minutes. I'm reasonably fond of niece no.1. Nieces 2 and 3 were relative mysteries to me till last week. 2 is hyper-active and plays a lot. 3 would just shriek whenever I went there, so my goal was to try and not make her cry. By which I mean that I never paid much attention to her till I had to share living space with her.
So, the thing about houses with babies, especially when there are 3 of them, is that there are toys everywhere. And usually food everywhere as well. No.2 hid a half-eaten biscuit in my coat pocket. She also hid her breakfast inside the couch I was sleeping on. I learnt on day 1 that I needed to check what I sat on, slept on, or wore, before I did any of the above. I also learnt that babies are jealous, manipulative creatures. 1 is insanely jealous of 2 and 3. Resents them invading her space. Whines all the time to Mommy to pick 3 up, or not let 2 come into her room. She has kind of a high-pitched voice, so the whining grates on your ears. Not to mention your nerves. By day 3 I'd caught on enough to know when to retire to an inner sanctum and plug my ears with headphones. As you can probably guess, I wasn't much help at all.
I did run around behind 2, trying to get her to eat. She only eats french fries, and drinks SunnyD orange juice. Seriously..she won't drink any other kind of orange juice. I spent 30 minutes at the local grocery store looking for SunnyD, because Tropicana just wouldn't cut it. I helped 1 spell carriage, chocolate, and kangaroo. I still kept my distance from 3.
So, by this time you are thinking I'm some kind of she-devil who hates kids. Not to worry. There's a "moment" coming right up. I woke up on day 4,(at the insanely early hour of 7am.) because I felt someone flicking my lip. Yeah..flicking my lip. I don't know what else to call it. I opened my eyes to find 3 standing there with this totally serious look on her face. Staring at me with her big, brown eyes. And flicking my lower lip with her finger. I think it was her way of saying: "Wake up you moron, its 7am. I'm not shrieking at you anymore. Which means I'm now comfortable in your presence. Play with me already." So, I did. And it was fun.
She's cuddly and plump. She has a gurgly laugh. And she likes to laugh. And after playing for about 15 minutes, she stole my heart by falling asleep in my lap. A baby who sleeps before you're tired of playing with her! I hope my kid inherits some of her genes!
On the whole...I think I had a good time. Even with all the feeding, pooping and toy-scattering going on, it feels warm and fuzzy. Because, sometimes, for no apparent reason, 1 will come and hug me and say "I love you athai". And 3 flicks my lip. And 2...well she's just 2. Finicky, but adorable. So, yeah. I had a good time.
So, the thing about houses with babies, especially when there are 3 of them, is that there are toys everywhere. And usually food everywhere as well. No.2 hid a half-eaten biscuit in my coat pocket. She also hid her breakfast inside the couch I was sleeping on. I learnt on day 1 that I needed to check what I sat on, slept on, or wore, before I did any of the above. I also learnt that babies are jealous, manipulative creatures. 1 is insanely jealous of 2 and 3. Resents them invading her space. Whines all the time to Mommy to pick 3 up, or not let 2 come into her room. She has kind of a high-pitched voice, so the whining grates on your ears. Not to mention your nerves. By day 3 I'd caught on enough to know when to retire to an inner sanctum and plug my ears with headphones. As you can probably guess, I wasn't much help at all.
I did run around behind 2, trying to get her to eat. She only eats french fries, and drinks SunnyD orange juice. Seriously..she won't drink any other kind of orange juice. I spent 30 minutes at the local grocery store looking for SunnyD, because Tropicana just wouldn't cut it. I helped 1 spell carriage, chocolate, and kangaroo. I still kept my distance from 3.
So, by this time you are thinking I'm some kind of she-devil who hates kids. Not to worry. There's a "moment" coming right up. I woke up on day 4,(at the insanely early hour of 7am.) because I felt someone flicking my lip. Yeah..flicking my lip. I don't know what else to call it. I opened my eyes to find 3 standing there with this totally serious look on her face. Staring at me with her big, brown eyes. And flicking my lower lip with her finger. I think it was her way of saying: "Wake up you moron, its 7am. I'm not shrieking at you anymore. Which means I'm now comfortable in your presence. Play with me already." So, I did. And it was fun.
She's cuddly and plump. She has a gurgly laugh. And she likes to laugh. And after playing for about 15 minutes, she stole my heart by falling asleep in my lap. A baby who sleeps before you're tired of playing with her! I hope my kid inherits some of her genes!
On the whole...I think I had a good time. Even with all the feeding, pooping and toy-scattering going on, it feels warm and fuzzy. Because, sometimes, for no apparent reason, 1 will come and hug me and say "I love you athai". And 3 flicks my lip. And 2...well she's just 2. Finicky, but adorable. So, yeah. I had a good time.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Soul food...
Dawn.
When night is almost done,
And sunrise grows so near
That we can touch the spaces,
It 's time to smooth the hair
And get the dimples ready,
And wonder we could care
For that old faded midnight
That frightened but an hour.
-Emily Dickinson
Who needs rasam sadam when you have Dickinson?
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
C'est La Vie!
When I was a kid Diwali meant waking up at 4am. Having oil rubbed into your scalp against your will. Sometimes having someone scrape a piece of turmeric across your face and hands. While someone else sings "Gauri Kalyanam" off-key. After Ganga snaanam in the comfort of my bathroom(shampooing atleast twice to get the oil off), I'd wear new clothes(all new, from the inside out, you understand). It would be 6am by then. Time to gorge myself until I felt sick.
Idli sambar for breakfast. Followed by bakshanams made by mom. Mixture. Badam barfi. Thattai. Therattipaal. And others whose names I cannot recollect. Of course to digest all this, you eat the delicious legiyum.(aka marindhu) And after I ate until I was sure to explode, we'd go to the temple. Call all our relatives to wish them a Happy Diwali. And usually head to my mama's place later in the day.Where I'd eat more of the same. Except the chef was my mami, not my mom. We'd take the bus back home in the evening. Nigdi-Kothrud. A 1 hour trip in a bus that would be unusually empty on account of Diwali. I'd be half asleep by the time I got home. Not surprising, considering all the food consumed.
Since we celebrate Narakachaturdashi which is a day before Laxmi Pujan, I'd get to hang out with my friends on Laxmi Pujan. Go to several friends' houses. Eat Faral. Hang out. It was always fun.
The only thing I didn't like about Diwali were the noisy firecrackers. That particular disease was owing to the fact that I'd spent 8 years growing up in a country where it wasn't allowed. Today, the only things that remind me that it IS Diwali is the Orkut message board and a few phone calls. I wish someone would burst a lousy firecracker.
Happy Diwali!
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Sap and Satire
I watched 2 movies over the weekend. The first was A Room with a View. I hadn't read the novel, and the movie sounded interesting. Daniel Day Lewis is always worth a watch. It was a disappointment. I don't know why I was expecting something more like an Age of Innocence, which is a wonderfully well written novel, and a well made movie. Instead I got something out of a Mills&Boon type novel. Helena Bonham-Carter is OK. But the actor who plays George Emerson, her love interest is totally uninspiring. Daniel Day Lewis is wonderful as usual, but even he can't rescue this one. Its a lost cause.
Why George and Lucy fall in love is a mystery. Maybe it was because she swooned in his arms early on in the movie. Yep. Faints conveniently into his outstretched arms. If thats not trashy Victorian romance, I don't know what is. So, I was just totally bored with the entire thing.
Except for about 5 minutes half-way into the movie. There was this completely unnecessary scene with 3 completely nude men cavorting around in a pool. Then chasing each other around it. It was hilarious. Why they spent 5 whole minutes showing that I didn't know then. So, after watching the movie I googled E.M. Forster. Everything is crystal clear now.
The second movie was far more satisfactory. I watched Thank You for Smoking. And thoroughly enjoyed it. Aaron Eckhart is a spokesman for The Academy of Tobacco Studies. He has the unenviable job of defending cigarette smoking, and playing down its risks, so to speak. He is a charming, smooth talking man who does what it takes to "pay the mortgage." All the while trying to keep it honest with his kid. The scenes between Eckhart and Rob Lowe(esp. the phone conversation with Lowe in a Kimono) are awesome. As is the scene where Eckhart helps his son out with his homework.(Essay on why America has the best government in the world!) The Mod Squad lunches are brilliant. The idea of 3 people with sucky jobs comparing notes with such nonchalance is beyond funny.
The best part of the movie is that it offers no judgements on smoking, while accepting the risks associated with it. No preachy message at the end. He changes jobs, yeah. But now he speaks on behalf of cell-phone companies...saying that cell phone usage doesn't cause brain tumors. Nothing changes really. No miraculous awakening of conscience. Which is pretty awesome, because people never really change in real life. Jerry Maguire like transformations(I love Jerry Maguire, btw. Just saying.) only ever happen in the movies. So, 5 gold stars for Thank You for Smoking.
Why George and Lucy fall in love is a mystery. Maybe it was because she swooned in his arms early on in the movie. Yep. Faints conveniently into his outstretched arms. If thats not trashy Victorian romance, I don't know what is. So, I was just totally bored with the entire thing.
Except for about 5 minutes half-way into the movie. There was this completely unnecessary scene with 3 completely nude men cavorting around in a pool. Then chasing each other around it. It was hilarious. Why they spent 5 whole minutes showing that I didn't know then. So, after watching the movie I googled E.M. Forster. Everything is crystal clear now.
The second movie was far more satisfactory. I watched Thank You for Smoking. And thoroughly enjoyed it. Aaron Eckhart is a spokesman for The Academy of Tobacco Studies. He has the unenviable job of defending cigarette smoking, and playing down its risks, so to speak. He is a charming, smooth talking man who does what it takes to "pay the mortgage." All the while trying to keep it honest with his kid. The scenes between Eckhart and Rob Lowe(esp. the phone conversation with Lowe in a Kimono) are awesome. As is the scene where Eckhart helps his son out with his homework.(Essay on why America has the best government in the world!) The Mod Squad lunches are brilliant. The idea of 3 people with sucky jobs comparing notes with such nonchalance is beyond funny.
The best part of the movie is that it offers no judgements on smoking, while accepting the risks associated with it. No preachy message at the end. He changes jobs, yeah. But now he speaks on behalf of cell-phone companies...saying that cell phone usage doesn't cause brain tumors. Nothing changes really. No miraculous awakening of conscience. Which is pretty awesome, because people never really change in real life. Jerry Maguire like transformations(I love Jerry Maguire, btw. Just saying.) only ever happen in the movies. So, 5 gold stars for Thank You for Smoking.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Shameless promotion...
Of a very funny blog with just one post, and no punctuation to speak of. Go read.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Wishes..
Happy 31st wedding anniversary Amma and Appa! Your dumbass daughter forgot again....but the wishes are sincere and heartfelt.
Monday, October 29, 2007
House Vs. Grey's Anatomy
OK...so I have an unhealthy amount on interest in this show. I can't help it. Hugh Laurie has sucked me in. But, being an inherently fair person, I decided to give the other medical drama, Grey's Anatomy a chance as well. And really, there is no comparison. House wins...hands down.
Here's why:
But on the whole, if I want to watch a soap with medical miracles, I'll watch Kyunki Saas bhi kabhi Bahu thi and marvel at the 200 year-old Ba.
Unrelated aside: I'm rather sad. Dumbledore is gay!(Not being non-PC, just never pictured him as gay!) JKR can make anyone anything, now that she's wrapped it up. Next we'll find that McGonagall is a dominatrix. Whatever!
Here's why:
- House has its share of medical gaffes...but at least you have to be a doctor to figure them out. Grey's Anatomy had an infant with Rasmunssen's encephalitis. They did a hemispherectomy(!) on her. Baby still had her goldilocks post-op. We couldn't have a bald baby girl, could we? That would spoil the whole cutesy effect.
- House has drama in it.(Their favorite dialogue is: If we're right patient lives, if we're wrong patient dies. Lets test our hypothesis on our living, breathing subject.) But Grey's Anatomy has sappy drama. (Protagonist is sleeping with hot surgeon, who neglects to mention itsy-bitsy fact that he is married, leading to lots of angst. Innovative!)
- Talking about sex...House has sex in it, but they have the decency to wait until they're out of the hospital, and in the comfort of their homes(thus far..haven't watched everything.) In Grey's Anatomy, everyone's doing someone...and its always in the hospital...while they're on call. Its like they have a secret sex room (like the Room of Requirement) at their disposal 24/7.
But on the whole, if I want to watch a soap with medical miracles, I'll watch Kyunki Saas bhi kabhi Bahu thi and marvel at the 200 year-old Ba.
Unrelated aside: I'm rather sad. Dumbledore is gay!(Not being non-PC, just never pictured him as gay!) JKR can make anyone anything, now that she's wrapped it up. Next we'll find that McGonagall is a dominatrix. Whatever!
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Why my life sucks...
- I'm buried under a heap of Westerns and Co-IPs and growth curves.
- My cloning isn't working.
- My PCRs have suddenly gone haywire.
- The mice are not co-operating either. Either they have some kind of flesh-eating bacterial infection or they've been bad boys and fought each other really brutally. Gruesome stuff!
- Plus I have loads of paperwork I should have done ages ago, AND the 1st rough draft of the grant due on Monday.
Tomorrow better be a better day!
Thursday, October 25, 2007
WTF news item that got my "goat" today!
Is this gem in the health and science section of the TOI website. Let me start by clarifying something. Yes. I am an idiot for reading TOI. Accepted.
But, in my defence, this article was in the health and science section. I thought it would be some study that found that scantily clad women enjoy eating meat. Bizarre..yes. I was also expecting a good laugh...which is usually why I read TOI. But reading this crapola in the morning is not conducive to completing delicate experiments with a cool head. So, I am MAD.
I don't even want to get started on the feminist(some would even call it human!) aspect of this silly article. Its beyond outrageous. Lets just focus on some of the other stuff. That way I'll feel better, and my experiments won't suffer.
Exhibit A:
Sheik Hilali said there were women who "sway suggestively" and wore make-up and immodest dress ... "and then you get a judge without mercy (rahma) and gives you 65 years".
Your grammar, dear sir, is shocking! At the very least it should be; there are women who sway suggestively(no doubt its the weed that accounts for the swaying, just like in that Hare Krishna Movie. All the women swayed as one!) and wear make-up and dress immodestly.(full stop) Then you get a judge without mercy(or even "a merciless judge" works), WHO gives you 65 years.
How shocking! A judge who sends men to jail for raping women. These Australians, I tell you. Silly buggers.
Exhibit B:
"But the problem, but the problem all began with who?"
Repetitive. Never end a sentence with who. Someone please give this Hilali dude a Wren and Martin.
Exhibit C:
The leader of the 2000 rapes in Sydney's southwest, Bilal Skaf, a Muslim, was initially sentenced to 55 years' jail, but later had the sentence reduced on appeal.
WTF is "leader of the 2000 rapes?" Could it possibly be leader of the gang that raped 2000 women? Were they going for some kind of world record maybe? Now they have clubs that have raping women on their agenda? 2 rapes, you're in. 5 and you become an associate member. 20 and you're an executive member. Great. All we need. Rapists of the world uniting in the pursuit of a singularly pure goal. Forcing themselves brutally on unwilling women.
God save me! Hilali is an ass. But thats OK...I wouldn't expect him to be anything else. The TOI journo who wrote this piece is another case altogether. And the editor (or whoever the f*&% did it!) who put in the health and science section...kudos to you. You rock! Not only do you not know the meaning of health and science, but you also managed to impair my health (my sanity is important to my health) and my science in one fell swoop. Thank you.
But, in my defence, this article was in the health and science section. I thought it would be some study that found that scantily clad women enjoy eating meat. Bizarre..yes. I was also expecting a good laugh...which is usually why I read TOI. But reading this crapola in the morning is not conducive to completing delicate experiments with a cool head. So, I am MAD.
I don't even want to get started on the feminist(some would even call it human!) aspect of this silly article. Its beyond outrageous. Lets just focus on some of the other stuff. That way I'll feel better, and my experiments won't suffer.
Exhibit A:
Sheik Hilali said there were women who "sway suggestively" and wore make-up and immodest dress ... "and then you get a judge without mercy (rahma) and gives you 65 years".
Your grammar, dear sir, is shocking! At the very least it should be; there are women who sway suggestively(no doubt its the weed that accounts for the swaying, just like in that Hare Krishna Movie. All the women swayed as one!) and wear make-up and dress immodestly.(full stop) Then you get a judge without mercy(or even "a merciless judge" works), WHO gives you 65 years.
How shocking! A judge who sends men to jail for raping women. These Australians, I tell you. Silly buggers.
Exhibit B:
"But the problem, but the problem all began with who?"
Repetitive. Never end a sentence with who. Someone please give this Hilali dude a Wren and Martin.
Exhibit C:
The leader of the 2000 rapes in Sydney's southwest, Bilal Skaf, a Muslim, was initially sentenced to 55 years' jail, but later had the sentence reduced on appeal.
WTF is "leader of the 2000 rapes?" Could it possibly be leader of the gang that raped 2000 women? Were they going for some kind of world record maybe? Now they have clubs that have raping women on their agenda? 2 rapes, you're in. 5 and you become an associate member. 20 and you're an executive member. Great. All we need. Rapists of the world uniting in the pursuit of a singularly pure goal. Forcing themselves brutally on unwilling women.
God save me! Hilali is an ass. But thats OK...I wouldn't expect him to be anything else. The TOI journo who wrote this piece is another case altogether. And the editor (or whoever the f*&% did it!) who put in the health and science section...kudos to you. You rock! Not only do you not know the meaning of health and science, but you also managed to impair my health (my sanity is important to my health) and my science in one fell swoop. Thank you.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Addicted to House...
As surely as House is addicted to Vicodin. I'm a fan.
The medicine is pretty far out. I mean.... highly trained specialists run their own lab tests, and calibrate centrifuges as well! House performs autopsies on neonates and cats with consummate ease. They misdiagnose and nearly kill their patients in practically every episode. And whats with all the breaking and entering into patients' houses?
But..Hugh Laurie does a superb job of portraying the obnoxious Dr.House. He's in your face, mean, loud-mouthed and pompous. Jesse Spencer provides the hotness factor. Allison Cameron is miss-goody-two-shoes. Omar Epps is the only one out of the three to have shown backbone thus far.(I've only watched the first 10 episodes)
But its interesting, fast-paced, and Hugh Laurie is awesome. Broodingly sexy in a crumpled-shirt wearing, I'm addicted to pain medication so-sue-me, kinda way. Girls always like the bad boys! So, I like House.
The medicine is pretty far out. I mean.... highly trained specialists run their own lab tests, and calibrate centrifuges as well! House performs autopsies on neonates and cats with consummate ease. They misdiagnose and nearly kill their patients in practically every episode. And whats with all the breaking and entering into patients' houses?
But..Hugh Laurie does a superb job of portraying the obnoxious Dr.House. He's in your face, mean, loud-mouthed and pompous. Jesse Spencer provides the hotness factor. Allison Cameron is miss-goody-two-shoes. Omar Epps is the only one out of the three to have shown backbone thus far.(I've only watched the first 10 episodes)
But its interesting, fast-paced, and Hugh Laurie is awesome. Broodingly sexy in a crumpled-shirt wearing, I'm addicted to pain medication so-sue-me, kinda way. Girls always like the bad boys! So, I like House.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
A Sunday adventure: In search of the Mohawk Trail
Roomie and I chose a Sunday that was more summer than fall to chase the Mohawk Trail for some leaf-peeping. Fortified by our favorite coffee, and an Ipod filled with songs like this one, we set out to explore the fall foliage.
Our first stop was was the French King Bridge in Erving. The view from this bridge, that crosses the Connecticut River was splendiferous.
After that we promptly lost our way and ended up taking a long drive on an Interstate. But, it was not a bad thing, because we ended up at Deerfield, where the Yankee Candle Factory is located. They had a large store with every scented candle imaginable. Including some rather unimaginable fragrances like Moonlight Cove.(As far as I know neither moonlight nor coves have scents!) They also had a little village in there with a full-fledged christmas display. It was rather weird to see the make-believe snow inside, when people were in shorts outside. But, whatever. It was a rather nice display actually.
After making our way through knights and christmas trees and angels, we finally left the "Scenter of the universe", and found our way back. We drove through Greenfield and Shelburne, before making our way to the quaint little town of Shelburne Falls(no falls here, btw. We were mighty disappointed). We had heard of the Bridge of Flowers, and wanted to explore it. The first bridge we saw was the monstrosity below.
Both of us were a little taken aback. Surely, no one could call that a bridge of flowers! Fortunately, there was a real bridge of flowers, and it was very pretty. Had several species of flowers growing. Some were lovely, and some rather Chupke-Chupke evoking!
Gobi ka phool anyone?
After a leisurely stroll through the bridge, we had the most sinful ice-cream at a fudge store. I totally recommend the chunky chocolate mousse at the local fudgery in Shelburne Falls! After this sustaining nourishment, we walked through the 200 feet that made up downtown Shelburne Falls. Turns out they have a geological marvel there...glacial potholes, no less!
I dunno why, but I found those ancient potholes hilarious. I knew they were a miracle of the ice age or whatever, but all I could think of was toilet jokes. Chee! Having had our fill of potholes, we made our way back.
Our last stop was the town of Turner Falls (no falls again. Sigh!) But a lovely lake(with ducks!), and the sight of the evening sun peeking through the autumn leaves more than made up for the lack of a waterfall.
To say the fall foliage was at its peak would be an exaggeration. I think the dry weather and extended summer have put paid to those prospects. But every once in a way there would be a tree, either crisply, freshly yellow, or sunburst orange, or magnificently, flamingly red. Zimbly spectacular. It was a wonderfully picturesque drive.
A Sunday well-spent.
Our first stop was was the French King Bridge in Erving. The view from this bridge, that crosses the Connecticut River was splendiferous.
After that we promptly lost our way and ended up taking a long drive on an Interstate. But, it was not a bad thing, because we ended up at Deerfield, where the Yankee Candle Factory is located. They had a large store with every scented candle imaginable. Including some rather unimaginable fragrances like Moonlight Cove.(As far as I know neither moonlight nor coves have scents!) They also had a little village in there with a full-fledged christmas display. It was rather weird to see the make-believe snow inside, when people were in shorts outside. But, whatever. It was a rather nice display actually.
After making our way through knights and christmas trees and angels, we finally left the "Scenter of the universe", and found our way back. We drove through Greenfield and Shelburne, before making our way to the quaint little town of Shelburne Falls(no falls here, btw. We were mighty disappointed). We had heard of the Bridge of Flowers, and wanted to explore it. The first bridge we saw was the monstrosity below.
Both of us were a little taken aback. Surely, no one could call that a bridge of flowers! Fortunately, there was a real bridge of flowers, and it was very pretty. Had several species of flowers growing. Some were lovely, and some rather Chupke-Chupke evoking!
Gobi ka phool anyone?
After a leisurely stroll through the bridge, we had the most sinful ice-cream at a fudge store. I totally recommend the chunky chocolate mousse at the local fudgery in Shelburne Falls! After this sustaining nourishment, we walked through the 200 feet that made up downtown Shelburne Falls. Turns out they have a geological marvel there...glacial potholes, no less!
I dunno why, but I found those ancient potholes hilarious. I knew they were a miracle of the ice age or whatever, but all I could think of was toilet jokes. Chee! Having had our fill of potholes, we made our way back.
Our last stop was the town of Turner Falls (no falls again. Sigh!) But a lovely lake(with ducks!), and the sight of the evening sun peeking through the autumn leaves more than made up for the lack of a waterfall.
To say the fall foliage was at its peak would be an exaggeration. I think the dry weather and extended summer have put paid to those prospects. But every once in a way there would be a tree, either crisply, freshly yellow, or sunburst orange, or magnificently, flamingly red. Zimbly spectacular. It was a wonderfully picturesque drive.
A Sunday well-spent.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Breaking News
I've taken the first steps towards starting to study.
I watched 4 episodes of House, M.D back to back.
I watched 4 episodes of House, M.D back to back.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
You've got to be kidding me!
Are they freakin' serious about this?
What was the terrible movie again...Oh darling..yeh hai India!
Dumbasses! I'm sure wiser counsel will eventually prevail, but to even come up with this stuff requires creativity. Well done parliamentary standing committee. Take a bow! In fact...take a bow(Gandiva type) and stuff it up your...!
What was the terrible movie again...Oh darling..yeh hai India!
Dumbasses! I'm sure wiser counsel will eventually prevail, but to even come up with this stuff requires creativity. Well done parliamentary standing committee. Take a bow! In fact...take a bow(Gandiva type) and stuff it up your...!
Monday, October 15, 2007
Arbit stuff. (very inane)
1). Overheard at very fun party on Friday evening where several people were rather "happy"*:
X: Who is Rakhi Sawant?
Y: She kissed Mika,no?
Z: No. Mika kissed her.
X: I don't like Mika. He is nasal.
Y: Himesh is more nasal than Mika..and you like him.
Z: I like Gabroo. Thats not nasal.
Me: Whatever!
2). Same party. Different people.
A: Why is hard lemonade called hard?(This after downing a Mika's. Ooops. I mean Mike's!)
B: Because it has alcohol in it.
A: Shit. But I don't drink.
B: You do now babe!
A: Will I get high?
B: No.
A: I feel dizzy.
B: You're fine.
A: I feel like I'm slurring my speech.
B: No. You're fine.
A: I'm drunk, aren't I?
B: Oh puhleeze. Will someone give me a refill? I need more alcohol to deal with this paranoia.
3). Not only do I have a non-working dishwasher, and a broken shower faucet, but also a fridge in which everything goes bad super-quick, a stove that is emanating smoke from the wrong places, and a heating system that does not work! Fun!
4). Oh...I just remembered, add an electrical system that was installed when Edison was alive. My cup runneth over. We have a little list of what appliances we cannot operate simultaneously:
Washer+Microwave = fuse udna
AC+Washer = fuse udna
Microwave + electric room heater = fuse udna
I give up! Ennala mudila!
5). Festival season is upon us again. Oh joy! Diwali in the lab again! I hope no one asks me why we celebrate Diwali again. I'm sick of explaining the story to overgrown buffoons with an overdeveloped interest in (exotic!)Indian mythology. Yes. We have more than one God. In fact we have 33 million of them. Deal with it dudes!
6). I'm a big fan of John Milton. Actually, thats patently untrue. I've read exactly one sonnet that Milton wrote, which was in my syllabus in Class X. Everyone has read it. Its called "On his blindness". The last sentence is very famous. It goes like this:
"They also serve, who only stand and wait."
I wish HZ would apply this principle to me. I would love to just stand and wait. Or, in my case, sit in front of a laptop/TV and wait. I do promise HZ everlasting devotion in return. This came to me because lately, HZ has been "extracting day labor, night denied."
Heaves loud sigh.
*Amma, and any other relatives who are reading this: I was sober as a judge. Promise!
X: Who is Rakhi Sawant?
Y: She kissed Mika,no?
Z: No. Mika kissed her.
X: I don't like Mika. He is nasal.
Y: Himesh is more nasal than Mika..and you like him.
Z: I like Gabroo. Thats not nasal.
Me: Whatever!
2). Same party. Different people.
A: Why is hard lemonade called hard?(This after downing a Mika's. Ooops. I mean Mike's!)
B: Because it has alcohol in it.
A: Shit. But I don't drink.
B: You do now babe!
A: Will I get high?
B: No.
A: I feel dizzy.
B: You're fine.
A: I feel like I'm slurring my speech.
B: No. You're fine.
A: I'm drunk, aren't I?
B: Oh puhleeze. Will someone give me a refill? I need more alcohol to deal with this paranoia.
3). Not only do I have a non-working dishwasher, and a broken shower faucet, but also a fridge in which everything goes bad super-quick, a stove that is emanating smoke from the wrong places, and a heating system that does not work! Fun!
4). Oh...I just remembered, add an electrical system that was installed when Edison was alive. My cup runneth over. We have a little list of what appliances we cannot operate simultaneously:
Washer+Microwave = fuse udna
AC+Washer = fuse udna
Microwave + electric room heater = fuse udna
I give up! Ennala mudila!
5). Festival season is upon us again. Oh joy! Diwali in the lab again! I hope no one asks me why we celebrate Diwali again. I'm sick of explaining the story to overgrown buffoons with an overdeveloped interest in (exotic!)Indian mythology. Yes. We have more than one God. In fact we have 33 million of them. Deal with it dudes!
6). I'm a big fan of John Milton. Actually, thats patently untrue. I've read exactly one sonnet that Milton wrote, which was in my syllabus in Class X. Everyone has read it. Its called "On his blindness". The last sentence is very famous. It goes like this:
"They also serve, who only stand and wait."
I wish HZ would apply this principle to me. I would love to just stand and wait. Or, in my case, sit in front of a laptop/TV and wait. I do promise HZ everlasting devotion in return. This came to me because lately, HZ has been "extracting day labor, night denied."
Heaves loud sigh.
*Amma, and any other relatives who are reading this: I was sober as a judge. Promise!
Friday, October 12, 2007
Ethics in science
There is an interesting editorial in Nature this week about the training young scientists receive in ethical behaviour from their mentors. I reproduce parts of it below. Emphasis mine.
"Researchers have always depended on their seniors to convey the peculiar knowledge of the lab. Techniques, values, scientific judgement and survival skills are imparted by good mentors at the bench and through challenging discourse at lab meetings or in the local pub. Young scientists enjoying such inductions are popularly viewed as the lucky ones, as opposed to those reared on the 'sink or swim' principle.
Melissa Anderson and her colleagues at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis decided to investigate the relative effects of mentoring and formal instruction in setting a young scientist's ethical framework. They analysed the 3,250 respondents from a 2002 survey of about 6,900 grantees of the US National Institutes of Health (NIH) who were asked about their formal ethics instruction and the informal mentoring they had received — and how these had affected their subsequent behaviour.
As many as a quarter of the NIH PhD fellows in 2000–01 had not taken ethics courses or been mentored in ethics workshops or discussion roundtables. One quarter of the survey respondents admitted that they did not feel well prepared to del with ethical issues in their work.
More positively, about 90% of both early- and late-career respondents had discussed ethics with their mentors or colleagues and had been mentored in good research practices. Among younger scientists, biologists were among the least likely to have been mentored in ethics. It seems they received more mentoring in getting financial support for their work. Social and physical science postdocs were more likely to be mentored in how to survive in their fields and develop professional relationships.
So does the extent of mentorship and/or formal ethics training correlate with behaviour? The survey asked participants to report various types of problematic behaviours. Formal instruction exerted a disappointing influence on the early-career scientists: in fact, it significantly increased the odds of poor choices when collecting and analysing data, dealing with other researchers' confidential information or allowing funders inappropriate influence. Formal training was also correlated with a higher likelihood of not giving proper credit to others. How could this be? Perhaps such courses introduce scenarios that were unimaginable beforehand while suggesting that others have got away with such behaviours.
The results of mentoring early-career scientists were better but still mixed. Research mentoring (teaching good practice and presentation of one's results) and ethics mentoring decreased the likelihood of bad behaviour in almost all categories. But receiving mentoring advice on how to survive in the field and form professional relationships, or on how to support one's research, increased misbehaviour."
That biologists get more training in writing grants than ethical behaviour I can readily believe. Its a dog-eat-dog, publish or perish, we'll scoop you if we can, no tenure if you don't have the moolah, world out there. I see PIs all around me feverishly writing...for about 6 months of the year. So, thats spot-on.
Its interesting that formal training increases the chances of misbehaviour. I don't buy that "others got away with it" theory. Surely the fact that you are presented with those scenarios should act as a deterrent, rather than encourage you. Especially when you discuss them in the context of an ethics course, where the misconduct is dissected in detail, and everyone is saying as loudly as they can that the people who did it are scum. I don't understand this one at all.
Oh well. I should just stick to writing frivolous posts about silly movies and dishwashers. This stuff makes my last few gasping grey cells writhe in agony.
"Researchers have always depended on their seniors to convey the peculiar knowledge of the lab. Techniques, values, scientific judgement and survival skills are imparted by good mentors at the bench and through challenging discourse at lab meetings or in the local pub. Young scientists enjoying such inductions are popularly viewed as the lucky ones, as opposed to those reared on the 'sink or swim' principle.
Melissa Anderson and her colleagues at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis decided to investigate the relative effects of mentoring and formal instruction in setting a young scientist's ethical framework. They analysed the 3,250 respondents from a 2002 survey of about 6,900 grantees of the US National Institutes of Health (NIH) who were asked about their formal ethics instruction and the informal mentoring they had received — and how these had affected their subsequent behaviour.
As many as a quarter of the NIH PhD fellows in 2000–01 had not taken ethics courses or been mentored in ethics workshops or discussion roundtables. One quarter of the survey respondents admitted that they did not feel well prepared to del with ethical issues in their work.
More positively, about 90% of both early- and late-career respondents had discussed ethics with their mentors or colleagues and had been mentored in good research practices. Among younger scientists, biologists were among the least likely to have been mentored in ethics. It seems they received more mentoring in getting financial support for their work. Social and physical science postdocs were more likely to be mentored in how to survive in their fields and develop professional relationships.
So does the extent of mentorship and/or formal ethics training correlate with behaviour? The survey asked participants to report various types of problematic behaviours. Formal instruction exerted a disappointing influence on the early-career scientists: in fact, it significantly increased the odds of poor choices when collecting and analysing data, dealing with other researchers' confidential information or allowing funders inappropriate influence. Formal training was also correlated with a higher likelihood of not giving proper credit to others. How could this be? Perhaps such courses introduce scenarios that were unimaginable beforehand while suggesting that others have got away with such behaviours.
The results of mentoring early-career scientists were better but still mixed. Research mentoring (teaching good practice and presentation of one's results) and ethics mentoring decreased the likelihood of bad behaviour in almost all categories. But receiving mentoring advice on how to survive in the field and form professional relationships, or on how to support one's research, increased misbehaviour."
That biologists get more training in writing grants than ethical behaviour I can readily believe. Its a dog-eat-dog, publish or perish, we'll scoop you if we can, no tenure if you don't have the moolah, world out there. I see PIs all around me feverishly writing...for about 6 months of the year. So, thats spot-on.
Its interesting that formal training increases the chances of misbehaviour. I don't buy that "others got away with it" theory. Surely the fact that you are presented with those scenarios should act as a deterrent, rather than encourage you. Especially when you discuss them in the context of an ethics course, where the misconduct is dissected in detail, and everyone is saying as loudly as they can that the people who did it are scum. I don't understand this one at all.
Oh well. I should just stick to writing frivolous posts about silly movies and dishwashers. This stuff makes my last few gasping grey cells writhe in agony.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Lessons learnt from HTPL
So I watched Honeymoon Travels Pvt. Limited a few days ago. It has some very good actors in it. Shabana Azmi. Boman Irani. Abhay Deol, who is always so darn earnest its hard to dislike him. And Sandhya Mridul. Who I rather liked in Waisa Bhi Hota Hai-PartII. I don't think I've ever seen such a collection of a wonderful actors in such a mediocre movie. For what its worth, here's my take on it:
1). NRI husband: Big no no...they're all gay! Especially the ones with longish, straggly hair and mongrel-like eyes.
2). Hairstyles of the 70s should stay in the 70s...what say Mr.Irani?
3). Arjun Rampal=Sure-shot flop. (More power to him for being such a trier though.)
4). Indian men in the des: All bleddy philanderers!
5). The Lifetime Achievement Award for best portrayal of a sorry bastard belongs to Kay Kay, and Kay Kay alone. (Witness: Corporate, Hazaaron K Aisi, Life in a metro, and now HTPL) The man is a genius. Lau him.
6). Amisha Patel: There's a reason her parents gave up on her.
7). Raima Sen: Aaj ki Draupadi. No sari. Also no lajja. And no need Lord Krishna. She can pulverize the goons all by herself.
8). Scene of the movie: Boman planting a big smackeroo on Shabana's lips in broad daylight. Stylish and funny, not to mention...romantic!
9). The most important lesson I learnt from HTPL: Superpower couples exist. Now that I think about it...I think I know one. Annoyingly, cloyingly sweet, and disturbingly alike. Yeah. I know one of those couples.
10). A final thought....a burning question that was not answered in the movie: Do all superheroes wear their chaddis outside their tight tights?
1). NRI husband: Big no no...they're all gay! Especially the ones with longish, straggly hair and mongrel-like eyes.
2). Hairstyles of the 70s should stay in the 70s...what say Mr.Irani?
3). Arjun Rampal=Sure-shot flop. (More power to him for being such a trier though.)
4). Indian men in the des: All bleddy philanderers!
5). The Lifetime Achievement Award for best portrayal of a sorry bastard belongs to Kay Kay, and Kay Kay alone. (Witness: Corporate, Hazaaron K Aisi, Life in a metro, and now HTPL) The man is a genius. Lau him.
6). Amisha Patel: There's a reason her parents gave up on her.
7). Raima Sen: Aaj ki Draupadi. No sari. Also no lajja. And no need Lord Krishna. She can pulverize the goons all by herself.
8). Scene of the movie: Boman planting a big smackeroo on Shabana's lips in broad daylight. Stylish and funny, not to mention...romantic!
9). The most important lesson I learnt from HTPL: Superpower couples exist. Now that I think about it...I think I know one. Annoyingly, cloyingly sweet, and disturbingly alike. Yeah. I know one of those couples.
10). A final thought....a burning question that was not answered in the movie: Do all superheroes wear their chaddis outside their tight tights?
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Existential Angst OR I'm plain pissed off today, and this is just a RANT!
Now that I have finished making my presentation for tomorrow, I can rant with a clean conscience:
1). If you must give a talk, atleast pretend to be enthusiastic about your work. If you sound bored, imagine the rest of us poor souls.
2). Actin and myosin are involved in axonal retraction. Big deal. I'm not shocked/surprised!
3). Chinese people in my lab: Its plain rude to talk in Chinese all the time when there is someone around who does not understand the language.
4). Chinese people in Science: Don't bitch about your supervisors making you work too hard. You don't have a life. You don't make an attempt to have one. You enjoy rotting in the lab on sunny weekends. You choose to do it. So don't blame it on the advisors.
Oh...and its not abnormal to NOT work an occasional weekend. Yep. Really. Try it sometime. Its called relaxing. And if you ever did it, you might be less uptight and nicer people on normal workdays.
5). Chinese people in general: Your food smells. And not in a good way either.
Yes. Very Non-PC of me , I know. But if you had to put up with the 45 minutes of whining that I had to today...you would have tossed PCness into the trash as well.
6). Speaking of food..I am never making Baingan Bharta again! Its a source of unnecessary tension between roomates who otherwise get along fine. Na banega Baingan ka Bharta, na bajegi bansuri!
This is turning out to be a very angsty week! And just last week I was informed that my posts had a "joyful ring" to them. Yeah, right!
1). If you must give a talk, atleast pretend to be enthusiastic about your work. If you sound bored, imagine the rest of us poor souls.
2). Actin and myosin are involved in axonal retraction. Big deal. I'm not shocked/surprised!
3). Chinese people in my lab: Its plain rude to talk in Chinese all the time when there is someone around who does not understand the language.
4). Chinese people in Science: Don't bitch about your supervisors making you work too hard. You don't have a life. You don't make an attempt to have one. You enjoy rotting in the lab on sunny weekends. You choose to do it. So don't blame it on the advisors.
Oh...and its not abnormal to NOT work an occasional weekend. Yep. Really. Try it sometime. Its called relaxing. And if you ever did it, you might be less uptight and nicer people on normal workdays.
5). Chinese people in general: Your food smells. And not in a good way either.
Yes. Very Non-PC of me , I know. But if you had to put up with the 45 minutes of whining that I had to today...you would have tossed PCness into the trash as well.
6). Speaking of food..I am never making Baingan Bharta again! Its a source of unnecessary tension between roomates who otherwise get along fine. Na banega Baingan ka Bharta, na bajegi bansuri!
This is turning out to be a very angsty week! And just last week I was informed that my posts had a "joyful ring" to them. Yeah, right!
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
One of those days...
Some days I really love my work. Its exciting. I'm having fun doing experiments that are interesting, and actually work! Today is NOT one of those days. There is a difference between working hard, and working like a donkey. Today is a donkey day. I've been doing mundane, meaningless, trivial things that any technician with a modicum of common sense can do. And its not over yet. Sigh.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Science this week
Its been a stellar week for Telomere biologists. There are 2 great telomere papers, one in Science and the other in G&D this week. The Science paper in particular was very interesting to me. They actually show that the telomeric DNA(which is actually just several kilobases of TTAGGG repeats) is transcribed into RNA. Of course, its non-coding RNA. Its impossible to envisage that DNA forming any functional protein. But non-coding RNAs are the most interesting creatures. Last years' Nobel went to Fire & Mello for their discovery of the phenomenon of RNAi, which is mediated by small RNAs. MicroRNAs are now the flavor of the month. They have been found to be involved in gene regulation at multiple levels, not just post-transcriptional gene silencing. Both siRNAs and miRNAs are non-coding RNAs. So, the finding that telomeric DNA is actually transcribed into RNA(albeit non-coding RNA) is fascinating. The authors suggest that this RNA could play a role in regulating chromatin organization around telomeres. The fact that cellular senescence is associated with genome wide chromatin remodeling is well known. It will be interesting to see if telomeric RNA influences this process, and how it does so.
And the Nobel Prize for Medicine/Physiology this year has been announced. Mario Capecchi and his co-winners are a long awaited choice. I remember HZ being quite ticked off last year that the discoverers of RNAi (a relatively recent finding-1998) had been honored before the people who came up with the gene targeting strategy in mice.(a discovery made in the 80s) Mario Capecchi's story is a classic. HZ related it to me last year when we were driving back from Woods Hole. Capecchi was separated from his mother at the age of 4. She was sent to a concentration camp. He lived on the streets for 4 1/2 years by himself. His mother survived the concentration camp, and they then moved to the States after the war, where he started school for the first time at the age of 9. The rest, as they say, is history. Its well known that he is a brilliant scientist. Also, I've been told he is a wonderfully supportive mentor. What an inspiring story, and what a MAN to have made his life what it is.
And the Nobel Prize for Medicine/Physiology this year has been announced. Mario Capecchi and his co-winners are a long awaited choice. I remember HZ being quite ticked off last year that the discoverers of RNAi (a relatively recent finding-1998) had been honored before the people who came up with the gene targeting strategy in mice.(a discovery made in the 80s) Mario Capecchi's story is a classic. HZ related it to me last year when we were driving back from Woods Hole. Capecchi was separated from his mother at the age of 4. She was sent to a concentration camp. He lived on the streets for 4 1/2 years by himself. His mother survived the concentration camp, and they then moved to the States after the war, where he started school for the first time at the age of 9. The rest, as they say, is history. Its well known that he is a brilliant scientist. Also, I've been told he is a wonderfully supportive mentor. What an inspiring story, and what a MAN to have made his life what it is.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Random observations from a trip to Quincy Market
1). Haymarket is dirt cheap. Also dirty.
2). There was a man dressed in 18th century costume for no apparent reason.
3). Also had the pleasure of seeing 2 completely stoned women, sitting on a bench, doing drugs. Outside Cheers. While toddlers played with their balloons or whatever around them. Weird.
4). A troop of African-American men doing some very random "nautanki". They even had this guy who kept going "aaaooooo" like Shakti Kapoor. Lots of very silly people stood around them, gaping like idiots...and paying for that s*%t!
5). 1953 Chevrolet. Cherry-red. 2-seater. Driven by very determined dude. It took him several minutes to get her(i.e the engine) going. His wife sat beside him...giggling. I don't know if she was embarassed to be sitting in that piece of hideousness or just excited.
6). Bombay Bazaar(or something like that. The first word is definitely Bombay) makes Navratan Korma with broccoli*. Apparently, one of the 9 jewels is broccoli. Bloody baskets!
7). Pumpkin Spice Latte is the way to go at Starbucks!
8). Never place thermocol carton with Samosa in it, in your handbag. The chutney will spill all over your very nice bag, and your bag will smell tamarind-y forever.
* What do you have to do to get a decent Indian meal around this place? Udipi makes sour dosas. Bollywood Grill is overpriced. The food is just OK, and the servers are rude. India Cafe-Less said the better. Punjabi Dhaba-yuck! Its just ridiculous. I have my hopes pinned on Dosa Temple...recently opened at Framingham, where Chennai Woodlands used to be. Its vegetarian only...and the name sounds appetising. Jury's still out on this one.
2). There was a man dressed in 18th century costume for no apparent reason.
3). Also had the pleasure of seeing 2 completely stoned women, sitting on a bench, doing drugs. Outside Cheers. While toddlers played with their balloons or whatever around them. Weird.
4). A troop of African-American men doing some very random "nautanki". They even had this guy who kept going "aaaooooo" like Shakti Kapoor. Lots of very silly people stood around them, gaping like idiots...and paying for that s*%t!
5). 1953 Chevrolet. Cherry-red. 2-seater. Driven by very determined dude. It took him several minutes to get her(i.e the engine) going. His wife sat beside him...giggling. I don't know if she was embarassed to be sitting in that piece of hideousness or just excited.
6). Bombay Bazaar(or something like that. The first word is definitely Bombay) makes Navratan Korma with broccoli*. Apparently, one of the 9 jewels is broccoli. Bloody baskets!
7). Pumpkin Spice Latte is the way to go at Starbucks!
8). Never place thermocol carton with Samosa in it, in your handbag. The chutney will spill all over your very nice bag, and your bag will smell tamarind-y forever.
* What do you have to do to get a decent Indian meal around this place? Udipi makes sour dosas. Bollywood Grill is overpriced. The food is just OK, and the servers are rude. India Cafe-Less said the better. Punjabi Dhaba-yuck! Its just ridiculous. I have my hopes pinned on Dosa Temple...recently opened at Framingham, where Chennai Woodlands used to be. Its vegetarian only...and the name sounds appetising. Jury's still out on this one.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Foolish, silly Beatrice!
I am not a Shakespeare reader. The only play I ever read was "As you like it". And that because it was compulsory reading in Class X at snobby St.Mary's. But for some inexplicable reason, my Netflix queue had "Much Ado about nothing" in it. So, when it arrived yesterday, I was compelled to watch it. And I was pleasantly surprised. Because not only did I understand most part of the ye olde English, but I also enjoyed it. Excellent acting, well-made movie. Light-hearted fun.
One particular passage stuck in my head. Partly because I was so struck with it that I played it back over and over again.
DON PEDRO
Will you have me, lady?
BEATRICE
No, my lord, unless I might have another for
working-days: your grace is too costly to wear
every day. But, I beseech your grace, pardon me: I
was born to speak all mirth and no matter.
DON PEDRO
Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best
becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in
a merry hour.
Now, I have frequently thought that I was made to speak all mirth and no matter. But if Mr.Hotness Personified, Denzel Washington was telling Me that my silence offended him, and to be merry best became me...my answer would have been:
I'll get the garlands. We can cut your finger for sindoor. Chuck the mangalsutra for now. You can buy me one on our honeymoon! I'll see you at the Pahari-wala temple in five!
Update: I just remembered..I can't marry DZ. If he had said I was born in a merry hour, I would have laughed in his face, and he would have stalked off in princely anger. Because I was born under the most unfavorable nakshatram of Moolam. Merry...duh! I'm told I'm a positive harbinger of evil. So thats that. Real life obtrudes on pleasant dream scenario again. Damn!
One particular passage stuck in my head. Partly because I was so struck with it that I played it back over and over again.
DON PEDRO
Will you have me, lady?
BEATRICE
No, my lord, unless I might have another for
working-days: your grace is too costly to wear
every day. But, I beseech your grace, pardon me: I
was born to speak all mirth and no matter.
DON PEDRO
Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best
becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in
a merry hour.
Now, I have frequently thought that I was made to speak all mirth and no matter. But if Mr.Hotness Personified, Denzel Washington was telling Me that my silence offended him, and to be merry best became me...my answer would have been:
I'll get the garlands. We can cut your finger for sindoor. Chuck the mangalsutra for now. You can buy me one on our honeymoon! I'll see you at the Pahari-wala temple in five!
Update: I just remembered..I can't marry DZ. If he had said I was born in a merry hour, I would have laughed in his face, and he would have stalked off in princely anger. Because I was born under the most unfavorable nakshatram of Moolam. Merry...duh! I'm told I'm a positive harbinger of evil. So thats that. Real life obtrudes on pleasant dream scenario again. Damn!
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Misery!
I have a terrible case of the sniffles. My voice sounds like a foghorn. My nose is runny. I hurt all over. Sneeze! Sneeze! Cough! Cough! I feel the flu coming on...
I really cannot work with the stinky mice today. I'm going home.
Life sucks!
Dearest Amma,
I am glad that you find my blog a source of enjoyment. I have always known that you have a fiendish sense of humour. Why else would you name me Charusheila (and spell sheila with an "ei", making it practically impossible for me to have a single important document that spells my name right?) And why else would you bestow upon me a nickname that I would never in a 100 years disclose on a blog?
In any case, being an acchi beti, I must dutifully submit that anything that brings you enjoyment, is worth doing!
Love,
Your much beleaguered daughter
In any case, being an acchi beti, I must dutifully submit that anything that brings you enjoyment, is worth doing!
Love,
Your much beleaguered daughter
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
To cheat or not to cheat...that is the question!
I was doing my weekly round of the holy trinity of scientific journals (Nature, Cell, Science) when I found this article about Woo-Suk Hwang, and how he was back in business in Thailand. It reminded me of an ethics course I took in the Spring Semester. One that I fully hated. Partly because it was organized in a manner calculated to put anyone who has an IQ above 2 to sleep. Partly because it upset me. I believe we discussed 5 cases of scientific misconduct in detail. 3 of those cases involved Indians. The other 2 were of the esteemed gentleman mentioned above, and a Japanese couple whose names I forget. In any case, all Asian.
Now, all of the cases we discussed were well-known instances of scientific misconduct. They included the Amitav Hajra case, the most astonishing tale of one Dr.Ram Singh, and the more fuzzy case of Vipin Kumar. Amitav Hajra owned up to his cheating. Dr.Ram Singh was the comic relief in this very bad Bollywood movie. He was the supremely annoying, bad "Madrasi" accented Mehmood. His most hilarious claim was that he couldn't produce the data because the termites ate it! Vipin Kumar was found guilty, but seems to have moved onto other things in life.
In any case, the reason this made me uncomfortable, was that I had to go into a room filled with 10 American students, and discuss these cases. And the question that remained unasked directly, but hung around the room like a pungent fart, was this: Are Indians more prone to cheating than people of other nationalities? They wouldn't be blamed for asking this question because 3 students(all Indian) from my class were kicked out of graduate school in the first year for plagiarism. Another 2 from the year above mine were also asked to leave around the same time for the same reason. They were Indian too. 5 cases of plagiarism in 1 year...and all of them were Indian. And while I don't know the details of the case involving the people in the year above mine(And hence,am loth to comment on them. Innocent until proven guilty and all that), I am intimately acquainted with the happenings that led to the dismissal of my colleagues. Let's just say there's no smoke without fire.
My first reaction to the choice of cases in the ethics course was that of anger. I felt that the person organizing the course had deliberately picked these cases. Why, I don't know. She could just be racist, or she may want to prove a point in a very obvious way. To give her the benefit of the doubt, she could also be insensitive enough to not realize that she had picked cases that were overwhelmingly from 1 community, and hence might be construed as offensive. It bothered me to the extent that I went around asking faculty members in my department whether they felt that they had seen more cases of scientific misconduct by Asians than Americans. Every person I asked said No. One of them even suggested I make my displeasure known to higher authorities. Which of course, being a spineless wimp, I didn't do.
But after I gave it some thought, I realized that we are a country where integrity is given short shrift. If you get caught by a "mama" for not wearing a helmet, you quickly whip out a Rs.50 note, and you're on your way. If you want to get your drivers' license, don't even think about going to the RTO without an "agent" to smooth your way. You want an internship completion certificate, when you didn't do your rural posting...Rs.3000, and you're home free. I remember one Obs/Gynae exam that we took in the third year. Every single student in the class barring me and a bosom pal, had their textbooks open underneath their desks. The Proctor knew what was going on. She just didn't care. Chalta hai, na!
We do seem to accept corruption without question in India. Is this why we cheat? Because we don't see it as wrong? Or are the incidents above isolated cases? I believe they are. I think it is always a deeply personal choice to cheat. Just like the way people choose to fall in love with A instead of B, or prefer Palak Paneer to Baingan Bartha. I'm in agreement with the author of this excellent article. But I can't help wondering if our morals have been slightly loosened by the nonchalant acceptance of what is clearly wrong in our country. I hope not.
Now, all of the cases we discussed were well-known instances of scientific misconduct. They included the Amitav Hajra case, the most astonishing tale of one Dr.Ram Singh, and the more fuzzy case of Vipin Kumar. Amitav Hajra owned up to his cheating. Dr.Ram Singh was the comic relief in this very bad Bollywood movie. He was the supremely annoying, bad "Madrasi" accented Mehmood. His most hilarious claim was that he couldn't produce the data because the termites ate it! Vipin Kumar was found guilty, but seems to have moved onto other things in life.
In any case, the reason this made me uncomfortable, was that I had to go into a room filled with 10 American students, and discuss these cases. And the question that remained unasked directly, but hung around the room like a pungent fart, was this: Are Indians more prone to cheating than people of other nationalities? They wouldn't be blamed for asking this question because 3 students(all Indian) from my class were kicked out of graduate school in the first year for plagiarism. Another 2 from the year above mine were also asked to leave around the same time for the same reason. They were Indian too. 5 cases of plagiarism in 1 year...and all of them were Indian. And while I don't know the details of the case involving the people in the year above mine(And hence,am loth to comment on them. Innocent until proven guilty and all that), I am intimately acquainted with the happenings that led to the dismissal of my colleagues. Let's just say there's no smoke without fire.
My first reaction to the choice of cases in the ethics course was that of anger. I felt that the person organizing the course had deliberately picked these cases. Why, I don't know. She could just be racist, or she may want to prove a point in a very obvious way. To give her the benefit of the doubt, she could also be insensitive enough to not realize that she had picked cases that were overwhelmingly from 1 community, and hence might be construed as offensive. It bothered me to the extent that I went around asking faculty members in my department whether they felt that they had seen more cases of scientific misconduct by Asians than Americans. Every person I asked said No. One of them even suggested I make my displeasure known to higher authorities. Which of course, being a spineless wimp, I didn't do.
But after I gave it some thought, I realized that we are a country where integrity is given short shrift. If you get caught by a "mama" for not wearing a helmet, you quickly whip out a Rs.50 note, and you're on your way. If you want to get your drivers' license, don't even think about going to the RTO without an "agent" to smooth your way. You want an internship completion certificate, when you didn't do your rural posting...Rs.3000, and you're home free. I remember one Obs/Gynae exam that we took in the third year. Every single student in the class barring me and a bosom pal, had their textbooks open underneath their desks. The Proctor knew what was going on. She just didn't care. Chalta hai, na!
We do seem to accept corruption without question in India. Is this why we cheat? Because we don't see it as wrong? Or are the incidents above isolated cases? I believe they are. I think it is always a deeply personal choice to cheat. Just like the way people choose to fall in love with A instead of B, or prefer Palak Paneer to Baingan Bartha. I'm in agreement with the author of this excellent article. But I can't help wondering if our morals have been slightly loosened by the nonchalant acceptance of what is clearly wrong in our country. I hope not.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Carpe Diem.....ummm...err...not really!
"Carpe Diem", said Robin Williams in "Dead Poets' Society", which I watched last night. Seize the day! It seemed to work for the young men around him. They certainly were inspired. Me..not so much. The movie was just OK. Some parts were OTT. And they spent way too much time over the suicide scene. I mean...you know the kid is going to kill himself. Why spend 10 minutes dressing it up, or in this case, dressing him down? And now I know where Robin Williams started with the whole eccentric, free-thinking professor role that he finished so well in Good Will Hunting. Now that, was a great movie. Matt Damon was brilliant, not to mention, easy on the eyes.
In any case, this is not a review of DPS or GWH. This is about the fact that I've been trying to Carpe Diem for the last 1 week now, without success. Its much easier to BS on my blog, than to actually write a grant, which needs to make enough scientific sense for the reviewer to consider handing over a reasonable sum of money over to me. So I can make that long awaited trip to Naples.
I'm off to try and think up a brilliant hypothesis..or atleast, one that sounds plausible.
In any case, this is not a review of DPS or GWH. This is about the fact that I've been trying to Carpe Diem for the last 1 week now, without success. Its much easier to BS on my blog, than to actually write a grant, which needs to make enough scientific sense for the reviewer to consider handing over a reasonable sum of money over to me. So I can make that long awaited trip to Naples.
I'm off to try and think up a brilliant hypothesis..or atleast, one that sounds plausible.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Vagaba
I recently signed up to do some tutoring at the African Community Education Program here. The kids range from Grade I to high school. Some of them have only recently come to America. While they speak English well enough, they cannot read or write very well. They mostly ask you to help out with their homework on a one-on-one basis.
They assigned me to this kid called Vagaba from Liberia. He is 15 years old and has been in the US for 3 years. He had never attended school in Africa. He seemed like a nice kid. Typical teenager. Said he hated school, and was better off in Liberia where he never had to go to school. His goal in life is to play soccer. I asked him whether he wants to go to college. I got a huge guffaw in return. College, yeah right! He just wants to play soccer, he said. And after that, I probed. What when he is too old to play soccer...what then? He said he will just go home and die! I didn't read too much into that answer. I guess he really doesn't know what he wants to do. Heck, I'm 27 and still not sure what I want to do. At 15, I would be amazed if he knew.
I had to help him with his English homework. The child is in the 9th grade. His reading skills are those of a 3rd-4th grader. I'm not sure anyone ever taught him how to read. But he picked up quickly enough. I showed him a couple of times how to break up a word and try to read small parts of it. After the 3rd or 4th time, he was reaching for the pencil and paper automatically, and doing it himself, when he found a word he couldn't pronounce. He got frustrated with himself when he couldn't get the same word right, when it came up a second time in the chapter we were reading. But underneath all the "I hate English", "I'm too dumb for all this" bravado, I think I detected a hunger for knowledge. I believe he does care. He does want to learn. He is only 15. There were girls around him laughing at his halting reading. He seemed to take in good part and joked with them. But I think he was embarassed and he wants to learn. I liked him a lot. I think he is a good kid who could do well, given the right opportunities.
It took us 2 and a 1/2 hours to get through 1 and 1/2 pages of pretty easy reading. At which point he asked me to do his homework for him. I refused point blank, and gave him a piece of gum to chew on instead. Unfortunately we didn't have time to finish the homework, we only got through some part of it. He said he would try to get through the rest himself.
So the reason I'm writing all this in excruciating detail is this. I would like some feedback on how best to try to help this kid, and any others I may end up tutoring. Is there any particular thing I must keep in mind while dealing with him? How do I deal with teenage angst? This I just want to die drama....how do you respond to such a statement? I actually said, I don't think its that easy to die Vagaba. I don't think its a particularly good answer. I was a little taken aback when he said that, so I didn't know how to respond. Most importantly, how do you go about building a rapport with these kids? Do you probe into their lives, or not? Do you wait for them to talk with you, or do you talk with them? I tried telling him what I was studying at school. He seemed most uninterested. I don't blame him. Most people I know respond the same way.
So..let me know what you think. I know atleast 5 people read this stuff(you know who you are), so please...help me!
They assigned me to this kid called Vagaba from Liberia. He is 15 years old and has been in the US for 3 years. He had never attended school in Africa. He seemed like a nice kid. Typical teenager. Said he hated school, and was better off in Liberia where he never had to go to school. His goal in life is to play soccer. I asked him whether he wants to go to college. I got a huge guffaw in return. College, yeah right! He just wants to play soccer, he said. And after that, I probed. What when he is too old to play soccer...what then? He said he will just go home and die! I didn't read too much into that answer. I guess he really doesn't know what he wants to do. Heck, I'm 27 and still not sure what I want to do. At 15, I would be amazed if he knew.
I had to help him with his English homework. The child is in the 9th grade. His reading skills are those of a 3rd-4th grader. I'm not sure anyone ever taught him how to read. But he picked up quickly enough. I showed him a couple of times how to break up a word and try to read small parts of it. After the 3rd or 4th time, he was reaching for the pencil and paper automatically, and doing it himself, when he found a word he couldn't pronounce. He got frustrated with himself when he couldn't get the same word right, when it came up a second time in the chapter we were reading. But underneath all the "I hate English", "I'm too dumb for all this" bravado, I think I detected a hunger for knowledge. I believe he does care. He does want to learn. He is only 15. There were girls around him laughing at his halting reading. He seemed to take in good part and joked with them. But I think he was embarassed and he wants to learn. I liked him a lot. I think he is a good kid who could do well, given the right opportunities.
It took us 2 and a 1/2 hours to get through 1 and 1/2 pages of pretty easy reading. At which point he asked me to do his homework for him. I refused point blank, and gave him a piece of gum to chew on instead. Unfortunately we didn't have time to finish the homework, we only got through some part of it. He said he would try to get through the rest himself.
So the reason I'm writing all this in excruciating detail is this. I would like some feedback on how best to try to help this kid, and any others I may end up tutoring. Is there any particular thing I must keep in mind while dealing with him? How do I deal with teenage angst? This I just want to die drama....how do you respond to such a statement? I actually said, I don't think its that easy to die Vagaba. I don't think its a particularly good answer. I was a little taken aback when he said that, so I didn't know how to respond. Most importantly, how do you go about building a rapport with these kids? Do you probe into their lives, or not? Do you wait for them to talk with you, or do you talk with them? I tried telling him what I was studying at school. He seemed most uninterested. I don't blame him. Most people I know respond the same way.
So..let me know what you think. I know atleast 5 people read this stuff(you know who you are), so please...help me!
A series of howlarious events!
Sometimes I feel like Lucille Ball. I'm not as gorgeous as her, nor do I have a Dezzie. But my life is definitely as happening. Savor the following samples. All of which occured within the last 24 hours.
Exhibit A: Roomie and I decide to get Pizza for dinner. I place the order, and we drive to pick it up 20 minutes later. Man at the counter asks for my name. I tell him my name. He says..we have no order by that name. But we do have an order for a Bharu. Roomie giggles. I fume. Its Charu, I say. Oh, I'm sorry Pharu, he says. I give up. Roomie is rolling on the floor. Since coming to America I have resigned myself to being called Shaaru, or even Sharooo without a shrug. I've even been called Chalu.(yeah, yeah, I know!) But even back home, my name has been a source of grief. I once had a birthday cake that said "Happy B'day Gharu". No kidding. Gharu. No matter. I shall have my revenge. My daughter will go by Akhilandeshwari Kanakasubramanian. Or if its a boy...Trimbayaknath Vidyavachaspati.
Exhibit B: HZ accompanied me to the mouse room yesterday. He wanted to take a closer look at some of them. Make sure they weren't cross-eyed or anything. He took 5 mice out and placed them on top of the cage. I was just about to tell him they were 17 days old, and hence rather frisky. One of the mice decided to show him just how frisky it was. It jumped out of the top of the cage, out of the hood, and onto the floor. Yep. A mouse had escaped. Like a typical woman, I squealed. HZ was running around the room trying to catch it. How to catch a tiny mouse that runs pretty quick? I told him about the large pair of forceps placed in each room expressly to catch escapee mice. He then ran around the room some more, brandishing said forceps. Finally, he came panting up, mouse in tow. The site of my boss trying to catch a mouse is one I shall never forget. I laughed fit to kill. HZ had his revenge for my inappropriate laughter though. He made me double-kill 13 mice. CO2 followed by cervical dislocation. When you CO2 them, they pee. So my gloves were covered with mouse pee. Suddenly, it all seemed distinctly unfunny.
Exhibit C: I decided to make sambar and beans curry this morning. As you know, you have to mix the beans as you cook them. I needed my kitchen tongs, which were in the bathroom (you know why!), to hold the pan steady. So, I fetched them from the bathroom, After I finished cooking, I decided to take a shower. I step into the tub, all ready to bathe. I can't open the tap. 'Cos my kitchen tongs are in the freakin' kitchen. I dress, come back out, and place it in its rightful spot, by the bathtub. I take it back out of the bathroom after I'm done though. Evil glint in eye. Roomie wasn't awake yet. 2 hours later, she stomps to the living room, where I'm leisurely eating the sambar sadam. "Why the Eff is the pakkad in the kitchen?", she asked. "I had to dress and come back out to retrieve it."
"You shouldn't laugh when people get my name wrong then, should ya?", I say.
Exhibit A: Roomie and I decide to get Pizza for dinner. I place the order, and we drive to pick it up 20 minutes later. Man at the counter asks for my name. I tell him my name. He says..we have no order by that name. But we do have an order for a Bharu. Roomie giggles. I fume. Its Charu, I say. Oh, I'm sorry Pharu, he says. I give up. Roomie is rolling on the floor. Since coming to America I have resigned myself to being called Shaaru, or even Sharooo without a shrug. I've even been called Chalu.(yeah, yeah, I know!) But even back home, my name has been a source of grief. I once had a birthday cake that said "Happy B'day Gharu". No kidding. Gharu. No matter. I shall have my revenge. My daughter will go by Akhilandeshwari Kanakasubramanian. Or if its a boy...Trimbayaknath Vidyavachaspati.
Exhibit B: HZ accompanied me to the mouse room yesterday. He wanted to take a closer look at some of them. Make sure they weren't cross-eyed or anything. He took 5 mice out and placed them on top of the cage. I was just about to tell him they were 17 days old, and hence rather frisky. One of the mice decided to show him just how frisky it was. It jumped out of the top of the cage, out of the hood, and onto the floor. Yep. A mouse had escaped. Like a typical woman, I squealed. HZ was running around the room trying to catch it. How to catch a tiny mouse that runs pretty quick? I told him about the large pair of forceps placed in each room expressly to catch escapee mice. He then ran around the room some more, brandishing said forceps. Finally, he came panting up, mouse in tow. The site of my boss trying to catch a mouse is one I shall never forget. I laughed fit to kill. HZ had his revenge for my inappropriate laughter though. He made me double-kill 13 mice. CO2 followed by cervical dislocation. When you CO2 them, they pee. So my gloves were covered with mouse pee. Suddenly, it all seemed distinctly unfunny.
Exhibit C: I decided to make sambar and beans curry this morning. As you know, you have to mix the beans as you cook them. I needed my kitchen tongs, which were in the bathroom (you know why!), to hold the pan steady. So, I fetched them from the bathroom, After I finished cooking, I decided to take a shower. I step into the tub, all ready to bathe. I can't open the tap. 'Cos my kitchen tongs are in the freakin' kitchen. I dress, come back out, and place it in its rightful spot, by the bathtub. I take it back out of the bathroom after I'm done though. Evil glint in eye. Roomie wasn't awake yet. 2 hours later, she stomps to the living room, where I'm leisurely eating the sambar sadam. "Why the Eff is the pakkad in the kitchen?", she asked. "I had to dress and come back out to retrieve it."
"You shouldn't laugh when people get my name wrong then, should ya?", I say.
Friday, September 28, 2007
On being LS....
Long years ago, when I was a mere teenager, there was this show on Sony anchored by Archana Puran Singh. It was a bollywood gossip kinda show, peppered with the top 10 songs of the week. The last segment of the show was when she talked about the HS(High Society) and LS(Low Society) happenings in Bollywood. You know...pink beaded purse-LS, (This was before Bunty and Babli, when everything beaded, and horrendously bright became hip) Aamir in Mela...verrry LS. Twinkle in anything, movies or otherwise-LS, Kajol in Gupt-HS. Kajol in Hamesha-LS. You get the picture, I think.
I've just had an epiphany. I'm a derelict because I'm LS. Verrrrrry LS, as the magnificent APS would say. Here's why.
1). I'm rude on the phone. Roomie says I sound as though I'm doing everyone a massive favor by taking their calls. In my defense, I will say this. I don't mean to be. I just dislike long phone conversations. There are only 3 people in this world with whom I can talk on the phone for more than 10 minutes, and not feel like I'm having a tooth extracted. And you have to have the phone permanently attached to your ear to be HS. So...LS, definitely LS.
2). On the subject of phones..I neither know nor care what model phone I possess. I have never used its camera. I don't know if it is bluetooth enabled, and I don't give a rats' ass if it is. I have no clue about MMS. I only use my phone to make and receive calls. Not phone savvy....totally LS.
3). I have no social graces whatsoever. I go to a party, and sip my drink quietly. I suck at polite chit-chat. I am no butterfly. More like an owl. In fact, I have been called an owl on occasion.(Long story. I'll save it for a different post!!)
4). I'm a poor liar. I stammer, and blush, and the person knows I'm lying when I say I can't make it to dinner, because I have to go to lab. When in fact, I have nothing to do in lab. I just want to curl up on my sofa, with "Pearls, Girls and Monty Bodkins." And everyone knows that you have to be a good liar to be HS.
5). Sometimes, I tune out of conversations. I get this glazed look in my eyes. I'm in a land far, far away. When this happens, Amma says I look preoccupied.(Mothers, you gotta love 'em!) Roomie says I look blank.(Unkind, but true) The truth is, I don't know WTF I'm doing at those moments. In any case, my periodic tuning out cannot contribute positively to my personality. Chalk another one up for LS.
6). I couldn't read past page 30 of Song of Solomon. I thought it was boring and too damn slow. I also once read a compilation of short stories by Nobel Prize winners, and I thought them all very sad. Everyone was unhappy. Felt like the Dementors had written the book. There was one particularly gruesome story about a village in which every single baby was killed brutally, in a planned assault. Thats all the story was. A description of the systematic cold-blooded murder of infants. In gory detail. I enjoy Wodehouse, Austen, Erle Stanley Gardner, or even John Grisham better than that stuff. Not highbrow....LS to the core.
7). I like Govinda. I think Hero No.1 is one of the funniest movies ever. Is there something lower than LS? I think I maybe the SC/ST of LS.
8). I can't air-kiss. I simply can't. The first time my salsa instructor "muah-muahed" me, I just froze. Thereafter, everytime I went to class, I had to prime myself mentally to receive that bristly brush against my cheek. An ability to air-kiss is intrinsic to being HS. I fail miserably....therefore LS.
So, there you go. As LS as they come. Oh well, it is my cross, and I shall bear it as best as I can. On the plus side, I can burp in public and not be embarassed. No one expects better you see.
I've just had an epiphany. I'm a derelict because I'm LS. Verrrrrry LS, as the magnificent APS would say. Here's why.
1). I'm rude on the phone. Roomie says I sound as though I'm doing everyone a massive favor by taking their calls. In my defense, I will say this. I don't mean to be. I just dislike long phone conversations. There are only 3 people in this world with whom I can talk on the phone for more than 10 minutes, and not feel like I'm having a tooth extracted. And you have to have the phone permanently attached to your ear to be HS. So...LS, definitely LS.
2). On the subject of phones..I neither know nor care what model phone I possess. I have never used its camera. I don't know if it is bluetooth enabled, and I don't give a rats' ass if it is. I have no clue about MMS. I only use my phone to make and receive calls. Not phone savvy....totally LS.
3). I have no social graces whatsoever. I go to a party, and sip my drink quietly. I suck at polite chit-chat. I am no butterfly. More like an owl. In fact, I have been called an owl on occasion.(Long story. I'll save it for a different post!!)
4). I'm a poor liar. I stammer, and blush, and the person knows I'm lying when I say I can't make it to dinner, because I have to go to lab. When in fact, I have nothing to do in lab. I just want to curl up on my sofa, with "Pearls, Girls and Monty Bodkins." And everyone knows that you have to be a good liar to be HS.
5). Sometimes, I tune out of conversations. I get this glazed look in my eyes. I'm in a land far, far away. When this happens, Amma says I look preoccupied.(Mothers, you gotta love 'em!) Roomie says I look blank.(Unkind, but true) The truth is, I don't know WTF I'm doing at those moments. In any case, my periodic tuning out cannot contribute positively to my personality. Chalk another one up for LS.
6). I couldn't read past page 30 of Song of Solomon. I thought it was boring and too damn slow. I also once read a compilation of short stories by Nobel Prize winners, and I thought them all very sad. Everyone was unhappy. Felt like the Dementors had written the book. There was one particularly gruesome story about a village in which every single baby was killed brutally, in a planned assault. Thats all the story was. A description of the systematic cold-blooded murder of infants. In gory detail. I enjoy Wodehouse, Austen, Erle Stanley Gardner, or even John Grisham better than that stuff. Not highbrow....LS to the core.
7). I like Govinda. I think Hero No.1 is one of the funniest movies ever. Is there something lower than LS? I think I maybe the SC/ST of LS.
8). I can't air-kiss. I simply can't. The first time my salsa instructor "muah-muahed" me, I just froze. Thereafter, everytime I went to class, I had to prime myself mentally to receive that bristly brush against my cheek. An ability to air-kiss is intrinsic to being HS. I fail miserably....therefore LS.
So, there you go. As LS as they come. Oh well, it is my cross, and I shall bear it as best as I can. On the plus side, I can burp in public and not be embarassed. No one expects better you see.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Why I will NEVER win the Nobel Prize...
HZ (The Bossman) took us out to lunch on Tuesday. We went to a decent Mexican Restaurant unimaginatively named "Tortilla Sam's. But the roots of the name are original. Its named after the owner's pet iguana. In fact, iguana paintings are a large part of Tortilla Sam's decor. But I digress. Iguanas have nothing to do with my never winning the Nobel Prize.
Over lunch, HZ, as he sometimes does, regaled us with tales of famous scientists and the crazy lives they led.
Case number 1: HZ's own post-doc advisor. Stanley Cohen. Inventor of recombinant DNA technology. Winner of the Laskar, and other sundry awards whose names I don't remember. Dude is 72 years old. Has had knee replacement and bypass surgery. Allegedly returned to the lab in the afternoon after undergoing bypass surgery in the morning. Works weekends and holidays. Even Christmas. Thinks vacations are a waste of time. Does take a week off with long-suffering wife once a year. But he takes manuscripts with him for light reading whilst water-skiing. Oh, and he only eats a yogurt for lunch. The guy is a millionaire several times over. The recombinant DNA patent alone fetches him 100s of mills. What motivates this man, I asked HZ. Why does he push himself when he has clearly achieved so much.
Answer: He really loves science. 'Nuff said.
Case number 2: HZ's wife's thesis advisor. This guy did his post-doc at Caltech. Apparently, for the 3 year duration of his post-doc, he didn't have an apartment. He lived in the lab. No kidding. He slept in the lab. Took a shower in the gym every morning.
Interesting aside: When I mentioned this to roomie, she said he must have been stingy. It never occured to me that he could be stingy. I can't fathom anyone who was apparently a genius, being that stingy. They would be too smart to be miserly. It has to be passion. Or does my idealism clog my better judgement?
Case number 3: HZ's wife's post-doc advisor.(HZ's wife is surprisingly normal for having intimately worked with these nut-jobs.) She was the youngest woman ever to be elected to the National Academy of Sciences.(She wasn't even 40 when it happened). Has a lab of over 40 people. Has more money than she knows what to do with. Publishes in great journals. HZ says she never sleeps. Never. She apparently catches a few winks in her office, but never sleeps for 6 hours at a stretch like normal people.
And none of these people, though they are all fabulously successful, have won the Nobel. So, what I got from this entire conversation was, that to be successful, you have to:
a). Starve
b). Live in the lab
c). Never sleep
d). Never take vacations
Thats why I'm never going to win the Nobel Prize. Apart from being too dumb of course.
Ah well, all these awards are fixed anyways.
NB: Now I know why HZ works like a dog. Its the sheer pressure of having seen up-close what it takes to succeed. I shall no longer wonder why he burns the midnight oil in his office, when he should be home dreaming sweet dreams.
Over lunch, HZ, as he sometimes does, regaled us with tales of famous scientists and the crazy lives they led.
Case number 1: HZ's own post-doc advisor. Stanley Cohen. Inventor of recombinant DNA technology. Winner of the Laskar, and other sundry awards whose names I don't remember. Dude is 72 years old. Has had knee replacement and bypass surgery. Allegedly returned to the lab in the afternoon after undergoing bypass surgery in the morning. Works weekends and holidays. Even Christmas. Thinks vacations are a waste of time. Does take a week off with long-suffering wife once a year. But he takes manuscripts with him for light reading whilst water-skiing. Oh, and he only eats a yogurt for lunch. The guy is a millionaire several times over. The recombinant DNA patent alone fetches him 100s of mills. What motivates this man, I asked HZ. Why does he push himself when he has clearly achieved so much.
Answer: He really loves science. 'Nuff said.
Case number 2: HZ's wife's thesis advisor. This guy did his post-doc at Caltech. Apparently, for the 3 year duration of his post-doc, he didn't have an apartment. He lived in the lab. No kidding. He slept in the lab. Took a shower in the gym every morning.
Interesting aside: When I mentioned this to roomie, she said he must have been stingy. It never occured to me that he could be stingy. I can't fathom anyone who was apparently a genius, being that stingy. They would be too smart to be miserly. It has to be passion. Or does my idealism clog my better judgement?
Case number 3: HZ's wife's post-doc advisor.(HZ's wife is surprisingly normal for having intimately worked with these nut-jobs.) She was the youngest woman ever to be elected to the National Academy of Sciences.(She wasn't even 40 when it happened). Has a lab of over 40 people. Has more money than she knows what to do with. Publishes in great journals. HZ says she never sleeps. Never. She apparently catches a few winks in her office, but never sleeps for 6 hours at a stretch like normal people.
And none of these people, though they are all fabulously successful, have won the Nobel. So, what I got from this entire conversation was, that to be successful, you have to:
a). Starve
b). Live in the lab
c). Never sleep
d). Never take vacations
Thats why I'm never going to win the Nobel Prize. Apart from being too dumb of course.
Ah well, all these awards are fixed anyways.
NB: Now I know why HZ works like a dog. Its the sheer pressure of having seen up-close what it takes to succeed. I shall no longer wonder why he burns the midnight oil in his office, when he should be home dreaming sweet dreams.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
"Anne of Green Gables" and "The Terrorist"
Two movies I watched last week had an impact on me. One made me blubber like a baby, and the other was simply beautiful.
I don't what made me pick Anne of Green Gables from Netflix. It must have been nostalgia. I was a huge Anne fan as a child. I'd read all the Anne books by L.M.Montogomery. I thought she was charming and engaging and everything I wasn't. Witty, smart, pretty(even though she had red hair. I thought red hair was way better than unevenly sized eyes. Still do). I could lose myself in one of her books for hours. I still remember the day I bought my first Anne book. It was at Higgin Bothams (which btw, is the most exquisite name for a bookstore ever) in Chennai. I was 10 years old. Visiting Chennai during the summer vacation. I bought this book there, and finished it on the train journey back to Pune. I must have re-read that book a thousand times in the next 5-6 years. I was in love. With Anne, and Diana, and Gilbert and the whole lot of them really.
In any case, that particular love affair terminated with my entry into adulthood. I was too grown-up to read childrens' books. So Anne, and Rebecca, and Katy were relegated into the depths of my bookshelf. And then I ordered this Netflix movie. It was like an LSD trip into my childhood fantasy world. It all came rushing back in this one giant wave of long-lost memories. I realise now that Anne is rather a silly child, who has a flair for the dramatic and talks too much. And that imagination of hers. It can only be fictional. But how could I not enjoy watching The "Lake of Shining Waters", and Anne dyeing her hair green, and floating away in a boat, and nearly drowning whilst trying to enact a tragedy? I could not help laughing at this chilhood world where there were only raspberry cordials and lemon pies, no responsibilities, no leaky faucets(!), and no work. And when Matthew died, I couldn't help crying, thanking my stars that Roomie wasn't around to laugh at my silliness.
The second movie was one I'd been wanting to watch for a long time. Santosh Sivan's "The Terrorist" is a visual extravaganza. Tamil Nadu has never looked more ethereal. The forests, the rain, the river. A village house. The temple pool. All captured beautifully. The occasional chants of MS in the background. And really, its a tale of horror, told amidst these verdant surroundings. Malli(Ayesha Dharkar) is a suicide bomber on a mission. It is the story of her journey and the people she meets in the last few days before she is scheduled to blow herself and a prominent politician up. Its like a coming of age movie. Except the prom is a suicide mission. How Malli's thinking is influenced by the discovery of her pregnancy, and the kindness she receives from an innocent man who's home she rents is the meat of the story. Dharkar is powerful, combining innocence with brutality superbly. The child who plays Lotus/Surya is haunting. SS's camera work will stay with me for a long time. Go watch it if you haven't already. Its at the top of my favorite list now.
I don't what made me pick Anne of Green Gables from Netflix. It must have been nostalgia. I was a huge Anne fan as a child. I'd read all the Anne books by L.M.Montogomery. I thought she was charming and engaging and everything I wasn't. Witty, smart, pretty(even though she had red hair. I thought red hair was way better than unevenly sized eyes. Still do). I could lose myself in one of her books for hours. I still remember the day I bought my first Anne book. It was at Higgin Bothams (which btw, is the most exquisite name for a bookstore ever) in Chennai. I was 10 years old. Visiting Chennai during the summer vacation. I bought this book there, and finished it on the train journey back to Pune. I must have re-read that book a thousand times in the next 5-6 years. I was in love. With Anne, and Diana, and Gilbert and the whole lot of them really.
In any case, that particular love affair terminated with my entry into adulthood. I was too grown-up to read childrens' books. So Anne, and Rebecca, and Katy were relegated into the depths of my bookshelf. And then I ordered this Netflix movie. It was like an LSD trip into my childhood fantasy world. It all came rushing back in this one giant wave of long-lost memories. I realise now that Anne is rather a silly child, who has a flair for the dramatic and talks too much. And that imagination of hers. It can only be fictional. But how could I not enjoy watching The "Lake of Shining Waters", and Anne dyeing her hair green, and floating away in a boat, and nearly drowning whilst trying to enact a tragedy? I could not help laughing at this chilhood world where there were only raspberry cordials and lemon pies, no responsibilities, no leaky faucets(!), and no work. And when Matthew died, I couldn't help crying, thanking my stars that Roomie wasn't around to laugh at my silliness.
The second movie was one I'd been wanting to watch for a long time. Santosh Sivan's "The Terrorist" is a visual extravaganza. Tamil Nadu has never looked more ethereal. The forests, the rain, the river. A village house. The temple pool. All captured beautifully. The occasional chants of MS in the background. And really, its a tale of horror, told amidst these verdant surroundings. Malli(Ayesha Dharkar) is a suicide bomber on a mission. It is the story of her journey and the people she meets in the last few days before she is scheduled to blow herself and a prominent politician up. Its like a coming of age movie. Except the prom is a suicide mission. How Malli's thinking is influenced by the discovery of her pregnancy, and the kindness she receives from an innocent man who's home she rents is the meat of the story. Dharkar is powerful, combining innocence with brutality superbly. The child who plays Lotus/Surya is haunting. SS's camera work will stay with me for a long time. Go watch it if you haven't already. Its at the top of my favorite list now.
Monday, September 24, 2007
More plumbing woes...
I'm deliriously happy today. Totally, ecstatically, completely happy. India has won the finals of the Twenty 20 World Cup. I have my mutant mice. I don't need to cook dinner tonight.(I still have leftovers from last night) Its all perfect...EXCEPT for one thing. No make that two.
1). The dishwasher still doesn't work..despite all the pain described earlier. It just squirts large amounts of water into your unsuspecting face when you try to switch it on and hook it up to the faucet in the sink.
2). I now need a pair of kitchen tongs to pull the shower faucet out, so I can take a shower. This means that a "pakkad" has now taken up permanent residence in my bathroom. Embarassing as hell when visitors come over. How to explain why you have a pair of kitchen tongs in your bathroom?
What to do? I need help. Any suggestions? Any one know a good plumber who works for free? Large tip is in the offing for a cute plumber who knows his way around faucets.
1). The dishwasher still doesn't work..despite all the pain described earlier. It just squirts large amounts of water into your unsuspecting face when you try to switch it on and hook it up to the faucet in the sink.
2). I now need a pair of kitchen tongs to pull the shower faucet out, so I can take a shower. This means that a "pakkad" has now taken up permanent residence in my bathroom. Embarassing as hell when visitors come over. How to explain why you have a pair of kitchen tongs in your bathroom?
What to do? I need help. Any suggestions? Any one know a good plumber who works for free? Large tip is in the offing for a cute plumber who knows his way around faucets.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
The Dishwasher Chronicles
3rd August 2007: Roomie, S and I huff and puff up the stairs, as we struggle to transport our newly bought portable Kenmore Dishwasher into our house. Portable in name only, it seems. Its distinctly unportable and unbelievably heavy. My back hurts for 2 days after this exercise.
4th August 2007: We try to plug it into our faucet. No go. It doesn't fit. I call S for help. As usual, he knows the answer. We need an adapter it seems, to connect the dishwasher hose to our faucet.
15th August 2007: I am tired of washing dishes, while we have a perfectly good dishwasher staring us in the face. I swear I hear it smirking as I cuss my way through a sinkful of dirty dishes. Roomie and I decide that we have to go to Home Depot soon.
16th August 2007, 9pm: Home depot has 2 adapters that look promising. We buy both, sure that one will fit.
16th August 2007, 9.30pm: %*&#! Its a cruel joke. One of the adapters fits the faucet. The other snaps into our dishwasher. Neither fits both. Roomie and I cry buckets.
20th August 2007, 7.30pm, Lowe's: They have the exact same junk that Home Depot has. Plus the sales rep is about 275 years old, crusty, and distinctly unhelpful. One nicer dude there suggest we make our way to Sears, because Kenmore is a Sears brand and they probably have it.
Thoroughly disgusted, we let the matter lapse for about 3 weeks. Then it got cold. To do the dishes in summer is one thing. To wash 'em in winter, is entirely a different matter. Roused out of our state of inertia, we grumble our way to the Sears outlet store in Shrewsbury. Very helpful Sales Rep, sadly informs us that they don't have it, but the Sears Store at Auburn Mall is sure to carry it.
16th September, 4.30pm, Auburn Mall: Appliance department guy hears us out patiently, then says that he doesn't do dishwashers, he's the TV guy. We need the dishwasher dude, he says, while pointing us in his direction. I tell myself to breather deeply. In. Out. In. Out. You are from the land of Yoga. You can control your mind. Do NOT lunge for his throat. He's just a guy trying to do his job. Breathe. We make our way to dishwasher dude.
Dishwasher dude says...Oops..we don't carry that, but our parts' store is right 'round the corner. I know you will find it there. We walk to the parts store. Its closed. They are only open until 4pm on Sundays, says the sign. By this time, righteous indignation has given way to uncontrollable mirth. We laugh at our plight, while wishing a pox upon the guy who sold us the dishwasher, and forgot to mention the all-important adapter.
22nd September 10am: I knock on a distinctly grumpy roomie's door. Time to rise and shine. We are headed to the parts' store, I remind her. About 30 minutes and 1 liter of coffee later, we are on our way to Auburn Mall again. Parts' store is thankfully open. Lady with scary eye make-up answers our queries, and shows the one adapter they do have.(Whirlpool, not Kenmore) Roomie takes one look at it, and says it won't fit. She should know. She can practically write a PhD thesis on the intricacies of dishwasher adapters, with an emphasis on faucet thread size. Scary eye make-up lady, says Scalamos' is right down the road, and a good hardware store. Try there, she says.
Scalamos, turns out to be spelt Sclamos', and is a good hardware store. Nice furniture too. Very nice guy at the counter. Rather good looking as well. Except, they DIDN'T sell dishwasher adapters. But, he suggested we try Barrons' Hardware Store. We are certain this is a another wild-goose chase, but decide to give it a try. Its either getting an adapter, or investing large sums of money in hand lotions.
Barrons turns out to be a really nice store. Lots of good stuff. Best hardware store in the world actually. The sales rep was old, but knowledgeable and VERY helpful. A prince among men, in fact. Because he had the right adapter. One look at it, and roomie said, YES, this is the one. We clutched it gleefully as we made our way back home. That brown paper package held the most precious gift purchase we had ever made. It cost $3.29 and about $20 in terms of Gas. But its value....priceless!
Back home, we nervously snapped it into our dishwasher. It fit. Then screwed it onto out faucet. Perfect. I wept tears of joy.
No more dishes! Yay!
This is turning out to be a great day actually. Not only did was the DW issue resolved, but India just beat Australia and are in the finals...against Pakistan. Double Yay!
There's no silver lining today. Just a big, fat silver cloud.
UPDATE: I came home to find roomie laughing her head off. Apparently, the faucet in the shower just came off! Fact. I kid you not. So, we can wash the dishes now. But there'll be a wait to bathe!
4th August 2007: We try to plug it into our faucet. No go. It doesn't fit. I call S for help. As usual, he knows the answer. We need an adapter it seems, to connect the dishwasher hose to our faucet.
15th August 2007: I am tired of washing dishes, while we have a perfectly good dishwasher staring us in the face. I swear I hear it smirking as I cuss my way through a sinkful of dirty dishes. Roomie and I decide that we have to go to Home Depot soon.
16th August 2007, 9pm: Home depot has 2 adapters that look promising. We buy both, sure that one will fit.
16th August 2007, 9.30pm: %*&#! Its a cruel joke. One of the adapters fits the faucet. The other snaps into our dishwasher. Neither fits both. Roomie and I cry buckets.
20th August 2007, 7.30pm, Lowe's: They have the exact same junk that Home Depot has. Plus the sales rep is about 275 years old, crusty, and distinctly unhelpful. One nicer dude there suggest we make our way to Sears, because Kenmore is a Sears brand and they probably have it.
Thoroughly disgusted, we let the matter lapse for about 3 weeks. Then it got cold. To do the dishes in summer is one thing. To wash 'em in winter, is entirely a different matter. Roused out of our state of inertia, we grumble our way to the Sears outlet store in Shrewsbury. Very helpful Sales Rep, sadly informs us that they don't have it, but the Sears Store at Auburn Mall is sure to carry it.
16th September, 4.30pm, Auburn Mall: Appliance department guy hears us out patiently, then says that he doesn't do dishwashers, he's the TV guy. We need the dishwasher dude, he says, while pointing us in his direction. I tell myself to breather deeply. In. Out. In. Out. You are from the land of Yoga. You can control your mind. Do NOT lunge for his throat. He's just a guy trying to do his job. Breathe. We make our way to dishwasher dude.
Dishwasher dude says...Oops..we don't carry that, but our parts' store is right 'round the corner. I know you will find it there. We walk to the parts store. Its closed. They are only open until 4pm on Sundays, says the sign. By this time, righteous indignation has given way to uncontrollable mirth. We laugh at our plight, while wishing a pox upon the guy who sold us the dishwasher, and forgot to mention the all-important adapter.
22nd September 10am: I knock on a distinctly grumpy roomie's door. Time to rise and shine. We are headed to the parts' store, I remind her. About 30 minutes and 1 liter of coffee later, we are on our way to Auburn Mall again. Parts' store is thankfully open. Lady with scary eye make-up answers our queries, and shows the one adapter they do have.(Whirlpool, not Kenmore) Roomie takes one look at it, and says it won't fit. She should know. She can practically write a PhD thesis on the intricacies of dishwasher adapters, with an emphasis on faucet thread size. Scary eye make-up lady, says Scalamos' is right down the road, and a good hardware store. Try there, she says.
Scalamos, turns out to be spelt Sclamos', and is a good hardware store. Nice furniture too. Very nice guy at the counter. Rather good looking as well. Except, they DIDN'T sell dishwasher adapters. But, he suggested we try Barrons' Hardware Store. We are certain this is a another wild-goose chase, but decide to give it a try. Its either getting an adapter, or investing large sums of money in hand lotions.
Barrons turns out to be a really nice store. Lots of good stuff. Best hardware store in the world actually. The sales rep was old, but knowledgeable and VERY helpful. A prince among men, in fact. Because he had the right adapter. One look at it, and roomie said, YES, this is the one. We clutched it gleefully as we made our way back home. That brown paper package held the most precious gift purchase we had ever made. It cost $3.29 and about $20 in terms of Gas. But its value....priceless!
Back home, we nervously snapped it into our dishwasher. It fit. Then screwed it onto out faucet. Perfect. I wept tears of joy.
No more dishes! Yay!
This is turning out to be a great day actually. Not only did was the DW issue resolved, but India just beat Australia and are in the finals...against Pakistan. Double Yay!
There's no silver lining today. Just a big, fat silver cloud.
UPDATE: I came home to find roomie laughing her head off. Apparently, the faucet in the shower just came off! Fact. I kid you not. So, we can wash the dishes now. But there'll be a wait to bathe!
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
A Tale of Mice-Moondram Pirai
I think it was the visit to the temple on Ganesh Chaturthi. Yes. Thats what did it. I went to the Sri Lakshmi temple on Ganesh Chaturthi, just in time for aarti, I might add. And I prayed mighty hard. It looks like my prayers were answered. What did I ask for, that that bountiful lover of kozhaikottais(After Siddhi and Buddhi of course! No man loves food more than women!) bestowed upon me with such readiness?
NOT a 28 year old Software Engineer with a six-figure salary, whose horoscope matches mine perfectly, and looks like a Greek God to boot. Nope.
NOT Shilpa Shetty's body(yeah right!) or Bipasha Basu's boobs. We are not that into our physical appearance. Nor are we deluded about ourselves!
Not even did that Remover of Obstacles magically "obliviate" those cars that hog the good spots and make me walk 10 minutes to my lab, from the parking lot. Cussing under my breath on cold days! Like this morning which was a chilly 50F.
No, I asked for something vastly more important than all that. I prayed for brown mice. You see, if a mouse has a brown coat, it has 50% chance of being mutant. (My chimeric male mice are agouti- a fashionable word for Brown. I've mated them with Black females. Further details on request. Do you care?) Black coat---boring wildtype. I'd set up several matings which had borne fruitition.(I've been dying to use that phrase. Its been in my head since last night when it came up repeatedly in the subtitles of Yai..Nee Romba Azhaga Irrukai. Borne fruitition..so deliciously old-fashioned. Sounds way better than knocked up!) And voila...the mice, every single one of 'em, was brown!
He made it happen. Besides, he has a known preference for mice. He IS referred to as "Mooshikavahana", his royal vehicle being a tiny rodent, Moonjoor. Thank you Ganpati bappa!
NB: Contrary to how this post may sound, my life is not ALL about mice. No. I work with cells too.
NOT a 28 year old Software Engineer with a six-figure salary, whose horoscope matches mine perfectly, and looks like a Greek God to boot. Nope.
NOT Shilpa Shetty's body(yeah right!) or Bipasha Basu's boobs. We are not that into our physical appearance. Nor are we deluded about ourselves!
Not even did that Remover of Obstacles magically "obliviate" those cars that hog the good spots and make me walk 10 minutes to my lab, from the parking lot. Cussing under my breath on cold days! Like this morning which was a chilly 50F.
No, I asked for something vastly more important than all that. I prayed for brown mice. You see, if a mouse has a brown coat, it has 50% chance of being mutant. (My chimeric male mice are agouti- a fashionable word for Brown. I've mated them with Black females. Further details on request. Do you care?) Black coat---boring wildtype. I'd set up several matings which had borne fruitition.(I've been dying to use that phrase. Its been in my head since last night when it came up repeatedly in the subtitles of Yai..Nee Romba Azhaga Irrukai. Borne fruitition..so deliciously old-fashioned. Sounds way better than knocked up!) And voila...the mice, every single one of 'em, was brown!
He made it happen. Besides, he has a known preference for mice. He IS referred to as "Mooshikavahana", his royal vehicle being a tiny rodent, Moonjoor. Thank you Ganpati bappa!
NB: Contrary to how this post may sound, my life is not ALL about mice. No. I work with cells too.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
A "Tail" of mice-Part Deux
Well, I have paid the price for my sins. None of the mice whose tails I clipped were mutant. Nope. Not one. Zip. Nada. Shunya. All wild-type. Apparently you may need to breed them to F4 or F5 to get the right mutant genotype out. I'm just at F1. I'm never going to graduate! I mean, you mate them. They take 3 weeks to produce litters. You wait 1 week before you can genotype. Then.....you go back to the drawing board. 1 month's work down the drain.
Mouse work sucks.
Giving this matter some serious thought, I guess that the natural selection pressure is pretty high and will always select against mutant, versus wild-type. Nature has its own way of protecting genomes. And its great. It really is. But, if only she would let go for my mice and let me have my mutants, life would be so much easier.
Sigh...back to mating them once again. Its going to be a long wait. Well...atleast the mice are happy, what with all the whoop-de-doo they're getting.
Mouse work sucks.
Giving this matter some serious thought, I guess that the natural selection pressure is pretty high and will always select against mutant, versus wild-type. Nature has its own way of protecting genomes. And its great. It really is. But, if only she would let go for my mice and let me have my mutants, life would be so much easier.
Sigh...back to mating them once again. Its going to be a long wait. Well...atleast the mice are happy, what with all the whoop-de-doo they're getting.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
A "Tail" about mice
If hell exists, I'm headed straight to it after I die. I'm going to boil in a huge vat of oil for my sins. Blind pink demons who are naked, and have snouty noses and bleeding tails will look upon me with glee, whilst flaming the heat slowly. Yes, such is the torture I shall receive. What have I done to merit such punishment you ask?
I couldn't stop giggling while I was snipping the tails off 2 day old baby mice. Thats why. Why was I giggling? Because this nursery rhyme just wouldn't stop playing in my head. You know the one I mean. Its about 3 blind mice.
Three blind mice, three blind mice,
See how they run, see how they run,
They all ran after the farmer's wife,
Who cut off their tails with a carving knife,
Did you ever see such a thing in your life,
As three blind mice?
I hated this poem as a child. It was more morbid than the other nursery rhymes I knew. And I knew several. (Humpty Dumpty- he fell off a wall. Jack and Jill-Jack broke his crown. Little Miss Muffett- was scared away by a spider. Simple Simon-couldn't eat pie as he didn't have a penny..you get my drift) The very idea of someone cutting the tails of mice was disturbing. Apart from the concept of helpless blind mice which was terrifying in its own way. Fast forward to adulthood, and no such qualms exist, apparently. I have sold my soul to science it seems.
Because there I was. In the mouse room at 8:15 pm. The lights had been automatically switched off at 7pm, and I couldn't find a light switch in the room. So I was working by the light of the laminar flow hood. I was snipping the tails of these pink, naked mice that were literally blind. (Their hadn't opened their eyes yet) And this stupid nursery rhyme wouldn't stop playing in my head. Over and over again. Now that I think about it...if someone else had stepped into that room, they would not be faulted for thinking it was a scene out of horror movie. I mean, think about it. Its a semi-dark room filled with cages of mice, who are pretty active(hence rather noisy) at night. There is one woman working there, by a rather dim light. She's doing nasty things to helpless little baby mice. And laughing like a maniac to boot. The Blair Bit*h Project anyone?
I couldn't stop giggling while I was snipping the tails off 2 day old baby mice. Thats why. Why was I giggling? Because this nursery rhyme just wouldn't stop playing in my head. You know the one I mean. Its about 3 blind mice.
Three blind mice, three blind mice,
See how they run, see how they run,
They all ran after the farmer's wife,
Who cut off their tails with a carving knife,
Did you ever see such a thing in your life,
As three blind mice?
I hated this poem as a child. It was more morbid than the other nursery rhymes I knew. And I knew several. (Humpty Dumpty- he fell off a wall. Jack and Jill-Jack broke his crown. Little Miss Muffett- was scared away by a spider. Simple Simon-couldn't eat pie as he didn't have a penny..you get my drift) The very idea of someone cutting the tails of mice was disturbing. Apart from the concept of helpless blind mice which was terrifying in its own way. Fast forward to adulthood, and no such qualms exist, apparently. I have sold my soul to science it seems.
Because there I was. In the mouse room at 8:15 pm. The lights had been automatically switched off at 7pm, and I couldn't find a light switch in the room. So I was working by the light of the laminar flow hood. I was snipping the tails of these pink, naked mice that were literally blind. (Their hadn't opened their eyes yet) And this stupid nursery rhyme wouldn't stop playing in my head. Over and over again. Now that I think about it...if someone else had stepped into that room, they would not be faulted for thinking it was a scene out of horror movie. I mean, think about it. Its a semi-dark room filled with cages of mice, who are pretty active(hence rather noisy) at night. There is one woman working there, by a rather dim light. She's doing nasty things to helpless little baby mice. And laughing like a maniac to boot. The Blair Bit*h Project anyone?
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