Friday, June 23, 2006

Leeeaaving (or hoping to) on A Jet Plane (and we're taking this hope thing FAR!)

You travel, we pay.

Isn't that a lovely, lovely line? Why don't people say this to us more often?

Well the finalists are up and we happen to be one of the chosen ones (and by golly we're surprised!).

We have no idea on what basis the final selection will be made, but we have our fingers, toes and eyes firmly crossed.

We're also chasing a chicken to sacrifice at the altar of the OTB gods, but the damned thing keeps getting away. There's a slab of wood close at hand and we're making a determined effort to stay away from black cats, ladders and spilled salt. A string of nimbu and mirchi has been duly hung up on our Macintosh and a horseshoe has been pinched from it's owner (let it go darn hoss! You can get another one!).

We think we're all set now. Oh wait, wish us well, blog-people?


The results are in and it turns out we're not the one. We're a *little* disappointed, after all, spending other people's money is just so much more fun!

Ah well! For those intent on walking, the road goes ever on...

Chicken Little and Other Stories

Ever since the bird-flu outbreak, the SB has sworn off poultry in it's many glorious forms - boiled/fried/scrambled/omelett-ed eggs, tandoori/fried/curried chicken and even pastries* which might have egg as an ingredient.

Nothing can convince him. Not the explanation, "But it's been cooked at above 100 degrees Celsius and everyone knows that 70 is enough!"; not the government's declaration of the state's bird-flu-freeness; nope, not even Sanjay Dutt in all his shirtless** (and arm wrestling with an animated chicken) glory.

The SB refers to this unreasonable, unfair rejection of normal-breakfast-food as being 'risk averse'; we, to send home a point, run around the house screaming that 'the sky is about to fall on our heads any moment now and we'd better take cover!'.

In adherence to the non-interference treaty of September '05*** however, he cannot stop, hamper or protest against *our* consumption of poultry. Except for frowning in disapproval whenever we cheerfully call up the corner store to send us a dozen eggs.

Which is why, it is even more fun to call him into the kitchen when we're making breakfast and say, "Look SB! Yummy fried bird-flu!", and watch him turn some very interesting shades of purple.

Such fun!

*Souffles and mousses (in which the eggs ARE RAW!), he is, inexplicably enough, okay with.
**An honour, previously conferred upon Salman the Unbelievably Lucky.
***"I will not presume to know better than you, what is good for you, so help me god."


In other news, we have discovered that we're quite terribly susceptible to the enthusiasm-bug. By which we mean, a couple of words at the right time, at the right place, and we're absolutely bubbling over with the stuff.

One (seemingly innocent) conversation with a certain somebody (you know who you are...Yes! You!) about the benefits of fitness, and we're thinking - "Hmmm...he has a point there. You DO feel better after a would be great if we could fit into that pair of jeans again...Oh! Remember that slinky black dress*?! We'd forgotten all about it!! We could wear that!" - and from there, it's just one small step to showing up in the gym all shiny and happy and scaring-the-daylights-out-of-the-gym-instructor.

We are blinded by visions of shopping for doll-sized articles of clothing and slipping into them with nary a wiggle, and don't even notice the rest of the people in the gym, slowly backing off from the earthquake, the epicenter of which is us. We run up to the instructor after every couple of minutes, deluding ourselves that the look in his eyes is the 'you-go-girl! of non-verbal communication, when it is actually the okay!-crazy-lady-on-the-loose-people!-man-your-stations-NOW! of it.

The problem with the enthusiasm-bug is, it lacks foresight, or no wait, what it lacks is near-future-as-in-what-will-happen-tomorrow-foresight.

So now, while we *do* believe that fitness is a good thing, we're pretty sure that being this enthusiastic about it, is not.

Because today, we woke up, no closer to the body beautiful, but with a gait that bore a striking resemblance to the Tin Man's, pre-oiling. And feeling like a herd of elephants slow-danced over us the night before.


* Yes. We do own a slinky black dress. It is tucked away with all the other 26"- waisted (wasted?) outfits in the Wardrobe of Hope.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Picky! Picky! Picky!

Behind ice lies J&K Govt-Governor chill

For people who have chosen to bow down in worship to a stalagmite, for it's resemblance to a penis*, they're awful fussy.

*And it says some rather worrying things about you, when out of all the symbols in the whole wide world you could have chosen to symbolise divinity, you choose a penis.

Religion is so strange.

Monday, June 19, 2006

On a Clear Day...

...and if you look really closely at the picture, you can see (no, not 'forever', smarty-pants) a sliver of the sea.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Dating 101

In response to QS. Gemini's list of dating dos and don'ts, and the posts it spawned here and here, we present to you ladies and gentlemen, an alternate point of view. Note, we do not say right or wrong (although we might think some points are), we say, 'alternate'.

Why we're doing this is a bit of a mystery since our dating days are far behind us (and this is said with a ninety-ten mix of relief and regret), but we felt it was necessary to mention that QSG's list is QSG's list; different women, different lists.

In blue, we have snippets from QSG's post, the rest is our response to it.

1. He doesn't pick you up. Now, we all have cars, and its not about gas prices. There is something romantic about him picking you up and getting the door for you.

We don't expect him to. If he happens to be in the vicinity, then sure, drop by and pick us up but it's a bit unfair to ask him to drive half-way across town just to pick us up and then drive back all the way to the intended date-destination.

If the date ends at a late hour, or specifically at an hour we don't feel completely safe travelling alone, then we expect to be dropped home. Note, this is a situation specific to India. We don't think this would apply to the US/UK (again, this is an assumption based on what we've heard from women-friends who have lived in these two countries)

We've never consciously thought about whether or not doors are being held open for us; you reach the door, you open it. What's with the waiting? The few times we have had doors held open for us, we have been a little startled and quite amused (in an 'oh how quaint but sweet' kind of way).

We do NOT like having chairs pulled out for us. We're always a little wary of the timing; will he manage to position the chair before our butt descends on it? Will we end up sitting on half a chair? What if the chair doesn't make it on time? What if we end up on the floor?! *sigh* It's a situation that's just *so* much better avoided.

2. He picks a cheap restaurant.

A preferred situation would be if the destination is mutually decided upon. Economics is irrelevant. We'd be equally happy walking along bandstand munching channas, as we'd be at The Saltwater Grill. We think we'd like the channas at bandstand more, though.

If it is a place that the gentleman has chosen, the only requisites are that it should NOT be shady (as in, dark, dingy, with a predominantly drunken male clientele) and said gentleman should be familiar with it.

3. He expects you to pay, or decides to go dutch. Now, I am very independent and make okay money and take care of myself. But, am still old fashioned enough to want my man to take care of me. Is it so bad?

Errr...we think so. We really, really do not want to be taken care of...or, not this way at least. It's in situations like this that the rabid feminist* (as opposed to the normal everyday feminist) in us wakes up and goes berserk. We feel genuinely squirmy and uncomfortable if we're, well...paid for (We know, we know. NOT reasonable, but we *did* say rabid feminist didn't we?).

4. He dresses poorly. Like him to look sharp. Does not mean wearing and showing off every label he has (Tommy Hilfiger, Ralph Lauren - seriously, get over it!)

This is venue-dependent. It would be *most* horrifying if he showed up in designer togs (and we don't like soppy fops anyway) for a walk along Bandstand. It is more important that he be comfortable in whatever he's wearing. Seriously, we would have a lot more respect (and affection) for a man who can walk into a posh restaurant in jeans, a t-shirt and floaters, and feel completely at home.

Any donned clothes however, *must* be clean (no last night's pizza toppings and no, NO sweat stains!). Gentlemen wearing said clothes should (preferably) be showered, shaved (unless you can carry off ze sexy stubble) and at the very least, deodorised.

5. Tries to get too touchy feely. Now, seriously, back off! Women can be very irresistible, but some self control is good!

Agree completely. We know women are often accused of sending out mixed signals as far as the touchy-feely issue goes, but though they might be subtle, the signs (green or red) are there. It is important that said gentleman knows how to read them.

6. Is too cheap to order dessert. Now that is the best part of the meal. That's all I can say!

Maybe he just doesn't *like* dessert? We know we don't. And if you want dessert, then you can go right ahead and order can't you? It is highly unlikely that he will stop you.

7. Ogles at cleavage - yours or someone else's!

Get up and walk out. This is not just a dating no-no, this is NOT someone you want to be with.

8. Boring. Boring. Boring.

Tough one. While carrying on a conversation is your responsibility as well, if you've tried and failed, then maybe you're just not suited to each other. We know we're positively *dead* boring to some people, and too-bubbly-for-our-own-good, to others.

9. Questions include whether or not you have a green card, how much you make, can you cook, do you like to do dishes...etc...duh!

Get up and walk out. Unless of course, you're terribly proud of your green card, how much money you make and doing dishes is a hobby with you (in which case, congratulations! You've found your man!). We like to cook but it seriously pisses us off if we are asked whether or not we can*. Especially if the asker cannot, and insists on making inane statements like, "Oh I can eat!". You can! Ya don't say! You are SO cool!


* Again, a wake-up call for the rabidly feministic us. Again, not really reasonable. We mean, we wouldn't be annoyed if he asked us if we liked painting (or anything else). But this question (in our head) just reeks of gender stereotyping.

10. Eyes clearly suggest that he is desperately looking to get laid. Only.

Get up and walk out. Unless that's what you're looking to as well and, well it's all okay then, isn't it?

All that said, when we were dating, our filters were C&H and Terry Pratchett. And we're happy to say, they worked just fine. We have never regretted dating any of the filtered-through, although the memories of the rest of the dated send us running down the what-the-HELL-were-you-thinking-woman-road.

Ah well! You're only young and foolish once. Thankfully.