Twilight Zone Moments

Sometimes, I feel like I take these weird trips to a parallel universe.  I arrived in Kentucky, to spend Christmas with my extended family, and I was greeted by various members of another race, known to the common folk as the "moral majority".  I am not able to put my finger on it, but, I felt like I didn't belong, being a non-white, non-Christian woman.  Now, all of these individuals, beings, if you will, had expressions that were almost manic, being rather wild-eyed and smiley or blank, like zombies.  They come in different sizes and shapes, as well as various shades of white.  Now, I had to rent a car.  Usually, when I am trying to find a radio station, I have difficulty finding one that is not Reggaton or Tejano.  However, I had difficulty finding one that was not Christian.  They even have one station called "positive alternative", so, I listened to it, for a short while.  It didn't take me long to realize that I was listening to tracks that were praising the Good Lord, J.C.  I was not going to hear Nine Inch Nails or Radiohead, but, in fact, I was hearing songs about finding oneself and loving Jesus, etc.  This went on for at least 3-4 consecutive stations.  So, the residents, all appear to have the years worn on their faces from much smoking, praising, and singing hymns.  Occasionally, I may hear someone speaking another language, but, I realized that they were just speaking English with a strong Southern drawl.  

I went to a boring Holiday Party and I found the Holy Grail--I think!

Aaah, 'tis the season for annoying people, crowded streets, long lines, and, of course, stupid holiday parties.  We fulfill the obligation to get dressed up in sparkly, glittery, obnoxious articles of clothing that cost astronomical amounts of money.  All the women are vying to outdo their friends and coworkers; everyone looks to hook-up after indulging on free booze and taking advantage of the presence of mistletoe adorning the very lit-up and poinsettia'd party venue.  I, for one, am a sucker for free food and unlimited Diet Coke.  A friend of mine RSVP'd me for a party I didn't particularly feel like attending.  However, I got dressed up, without the sparkles, fringe, and sequins, of course, and went to a party with my friend.  Of course, we didn't have the exact address, so we just looked for a well-lit home with many cars.  

This particular gathering included the infamous white elephant gift.  I was enlightened on the significance of the white elephant gift, that you bring something you don't want and someone may pick it.  However, people may decide that they want something that someone else has.  Now, the countdown to the white elephant gift was filled with shallow introductions and meaningless conversations with people who have no care or need to know anything about me.  My friend and I arrived a fashionable 30 minutes late, but, I can always count on another coworker to be even later.  Now, she burst in with hair that had just been removed from rollers and some designer duds that looked rather aged for me, compared to my little J.Crew dress (quite a steal on the price).  She has a day job as a physician and another moonlighting job as a salesperson in a shop that sells kitchenware.  She shared some very one-sided stories about her store salesperson-type experiences.  

So, I had #30 in the whole white elephant process, after choosing numbers out of a hat.  Now, the advantage of having the higher number is that you get to steal from others, if you like their gift.  One of my colleagues picked a lovely "pimpin'" stein, that said, "Hottie" in sparkle and glitter.  She had no idea that I had my sights set on that "Hottie" goblet.  Finally, I had my moment, and it was stolen fair and square.  As I thought about it more, a revelation occurred.  This thing had to be. . .the Holy Grail.  Yes, kids, I stole the pimpin' stein, which is actualy the Holy Grail.  I'm sure that Jesus took his last drink out of a goblet that had the word "Hottie" beadazzled all over.  Anyway, hopefully, having this Hottie Holy Grail may actually get me a date. . .yeah, right!

One Cold Day in Hell

Well, it happened. . .Hell began to freeze over during this landmark occurrence in Houston, Texas.  In this area that is usually around 70-80 degrees and humid around the holidays, we had the second snowfall of this millennium, with the first being Christmas, 2004 (I was out of the country).   It was pretty amazing, since I walked out of the office into what appeared to be a blizzard in South Texas standards.  I became really giddy, and I felt like a little kid.  Flashbacks of snowball fights, sledding, frostbite, and hot chocolate danced around in my head.  Houston actually will officially shut down during a snowfall, and people will "hunker down", like during Hurricane Ike.  Houston has been a hotbed of weather weirdness this year.  Being from the Midwest, it is actually fun to see it snow.  I even found myself singing. . .eeek. . . a Christmas carol!!!!  Yes, winter becomes more solidified.  I decided to go to the gym, since I really had nothing better to do.  Everyone was just watching the snow fall out the window.  Since I forgot my reading material, I also stared out the window.  However, I could actually see my reflection, so that obstructed this lovely view of snowflakes drifting down to the potholes and oil spots.  Because we never know when this will happen again, I actually took a photo of snow on top of my car and a video of snow falling.  I have to save this moment for posterity, to document these historical moments.  

The Relevance of Being on my Good Side

Currently, our nation is in an economic recession.  Everyone feels this anxiety and has many concerns plaguing their minds.  They all worry if they will be able to keep their homes, clothe themselves, and feed their children.  Now, being the holidays, it will be like Miracle on Main Street after the Crap on Wall Street.  Of course, the pervasive spirit of Ebenezer Scrooge graces our lives, as many insensitive chief executives dismiss countless employees, to save some money to fatten his/her paycheck.  

Five days ago, my department chief decided unexpectedly to dismiss my friend, who is also a social worker who works with me in my clinic.  Now, this poor young woman will not have a job in thirty days, her husband will start accounting school, and she will resume her other day job as an expert barista at Starbuck's.  All the hard work and relationships she has fostered are severed, as she will be searching for another social work position.  Of course, as her friend, I am very distraught to know that she was dismissed from a job she did well.  Obviously, we are not in control of our destinies.  Also, we are not in control of the most minute moments of our lives, such as waking up in the morning and having a job that pays a salary.  We take for granted that things won't change, and then, it all crashes in front of us.  However, in this facade of what we consider reality, there is a better truth that exists, and my friend will find that truth.  She will also have a better job and feel more respected and validated.  Interestingly, although I am directly impacted from a clinical efficiency standpoint, I was never consulted.  Instead, I was told that this would happen, and I was never given an ample opportunity to express myself.    All of that said, the chief and the office manager both made a point to say to me that they don't want me to be angry with them.  Now, for me to get angry requires genocide in Darfur, child abuse, fighting a needless war in Iraq, children going hungry, and children being deprived of education--obviously, there are more.  I was shocked and bewildered that my opinion of these two individuals actually mattered to them.  Nonetheless, though they may care if I am angry, they don't care enough to actually let my friend keep her job.  

It is a shame that the true victims of the financial crises are the people who are putting forth their 100% and being laid off from their jobs.  Yet, the chief officers can still fund their private jets, buy their office-purchased 3G iPhone, and assure that the idiots like me who remain are still agonizing over getting our never-ending work completed.  Such a travesty in our system.  Now, it seems economic hardtimes are hitting our nation's governors.  Yes, I'm talking to you, Governor Rod R. Blagojevich from Illinois.  I guess he was trying to secure a high-paying job for his wife for Christmas, as well as some bling for him. Didn't work--He has a hefty jail sentence in his near future. 

Songs in My Head

After getting out of a meeting early last week, I had this brilliant idea of going running.  I changed my clothes in the hospital, listened to a woman speak to her excrement so it would mobilize better, and went to a local 3-mile track. As I arrived and completed my stretches, I had the revelation that I had forgotten my favorite running partner: my iPod.  After a long utterance of explicatives, I decided to run any way.  Unfortunately , the last song I had heard at the time was this song about "I'm so addicted to. . .the way you go down on me between the sheets", etc.  I believe the song title is "Addicted", by a group called Saving Abel.  Now, who the hell authorizes this crap to be played on the radio.  Of course, I listen to it intently, out of pure shock and dismay, thanks to the chorus consisting of being addicted to the way some chick "goes down" on him "between the sheets".  So, as I am running in the lovely fallish winter weather, this dude in the song continues to whine about getting oral sex and not feeling complete.  Then, "Addicted" fuses with "Lollipop", to form a very disturbing song.  Now, I realize that everyone loves "Lollipop".  It has one of those catchy, repetitive, almost hypnotizing beats with the catch phrase that is pervasive through out the track.  I could only make it six miles, because I am way too codependent on my iPod, the arm strap, and my clip-on headphones.  

The song that gets in my head the most, and eventually was downloaded onto my iPod was "Hot and Cold" by that chick who first kissed a girl.  I hate to admit, this is a catchy, fun track and I think I kind of like it.  I find myself singing along to it in the car and repeating it a few times.  Metro Station's "Shake It" has the same effect on me.  I heard that Miley Cyrus's half-brother is in this particular group.  Again, these tracks have that infectious, repetitive beat with some catch phrases like "Let's Drop" and "We fight, we break up, we kiss, we make up".  Obviously, there is no true musical talent involved, and looks may be an advantage in some opinions, but, not necessarily mine.  But, on a karaoke excursion, I just might be singing the line, "You PMS, like a bitch I would know".

Moments in Coconut and Uh-Oh Oreos

As I skip my department holiday party, I am lost in reverie as I am processing the movie, "Bowling for Columbine", which I just watched on IFC for the fifth-sixth time.  It is one of my all-time favorite films, and definitely is my favorite Michael Moore film.  Mr. Moore provides the other perspective of our culture and really scrutinizes how entrenched in fear and loathing we really are.  In the film, during a conversation with Marilyn Manson, who is frequently targeted as the etiology of all that is evil with  youth, Mr. Manson actually made a wonderful point that our media really brainwashes youth with tremendous fear, which results in frivolous consumption of material goods.  We are afraid that if we don't fit into society's box of what is normal, beautiful, and perfect, then we must consume these marketed products to conform us into a being that can be accepted into society's box.  I began to ponder more about hanging out with a couple of my friends last night.  We were attempting to have a holiday party, and three of us got together at a local hotspot.  I, personally, am not a bar person and I avoid the "scene" like the plague.  I find it terribly shallow, superficial, and rather irritating.  So many people who physically fit society's standards of beauty and then are attempting to outdo each other by wearing the most expensive clothes or carry the most expensive designer accessories, all purchased on credit.  The two friends I joined were very beautiful, blond women.  Now, we work together and we happen to be pretty good friends.  There happened to be a couple of groups of Indian kids hanging out there, as well as groups of white people, Latino people, and African American people.  However, I, the very brown, Indian chick, was hanging out with very blond women.  I also was dressed pretty white.  I just realized today, that I even have a white-girl haircut.  I am sure that if groups of Indians see me with a couple of blond women, they are probably thinking that I'm a coconut--or white on the inside, brown on the outside.  If a group of white people see me, they probably think that I'm a wannabe white person.  Now, I realize, that on some level, I don't meet the societal standards of beauty, as I have brown skin, and although I am thin, I am well endowed in my bust, and I have what I like to call, a "Bollywood Booty".  White guys, Indian guys, and Asian guys appear to be more comfortable with anorexic, crack-skinny chicks, or fake breasts.  African American guys and Latino guys are more comfortable with curvy women, however, they just go about things in the wrong way.  Those of us with natural curves are desired, yet guys are intimidated by us.  Quite strange, indeed.

Therefore, should I be afraid, that because I am a brown girl, with a white-girl haircut, who hangs out with a diverse group of people, and is naturally curvy without being overweight, that I may just be single the rest of my life.  Should I consume a product, like alcohol or meat, that helps me conform into a robotic being that is appealing to guys who should like me?  I remember considering buying a Lexus, thinking maybe guys would think I was cool if I drove an expensive car after seeing many Indian chicks driving BMW's, Mercedeses, Lexuses, etc.  Of course, the momentary lapse of reason was just that, momentary, and I have been happy with my Prius for three years.

Foo'd Fighting wit Top Chefs

I have to say that one of my favorite television moments is having the current NYC Top Chefs cater Thanksgiving for the Foo Fighters.  I love to eat and cook and I love the Foo Fighters.  I have probably listened to the Foo Fighters while either eating or cooking.  There were two teams of chefs who had to compete to cook a Thanksgiving meal, which was traditional, vegan, etc. It all boiled down to dessert.  The team with the questionable desserts served a pumpkin mousse with berries soaked in maple syrup, like a, to quote Taylor Hawkins, "barfait".  They also served some warped version of a s'more.  Now, I love s'mores.  The chef, Daniel, was trying to stay true to the Foo's tour rider (very hilarious, recommended read).  But, s'mores are just heavenly, with the gooey chocolate and marshmallow and I like using cinnamon graham crackers. . .aah.  Anyway, I digress. . .he tried to put bananas, as the tour rider mentioned.  However, it was rather unsuccessful, and resulted in a no-more.  In addition, they attempted to conceal raw potatoes into some semi-cooked potatoes.  Now, I know you boil/steam them before you roast them, duh!  So, the s'mores dude had to pack his knives and go, very tearfully.  The worst part is, he missed a kick-ass concert.

Overwrought Obsessions

Mutiny and Mayhem In the Galleria

I really hate shopping.  Yes, I am a woman and yes, I love to get dressed up in cute clothes/shoes, etc., etc.  However, I really hate shopping.  However, I will go to a mall if convinced by friends or family to do so.  Now, on Halloween night (really great night to shop), my friend wanted to go shopping, and she thought it would be great to go to a new outlet mall, the Houston Premium Outlets.  This place has been a bit nonexistent for me, as I never really bothered to venture out to CyFair and take advantage of the designer outlet stores, such as Coach, Kate Spade, etc.  We decided to go and then have dinner afterwards.  In anticipation, I was looking forward to seeing the Kate Spade selections as well some of the other stores.  I never realized that I would have to travel the great frontier of Texas, like Manifest Destiny.  I literally conquered native territory, fighting the natives as well as the white dudes who thought it belonged to them.  It seemed as though I would not be able to make it to this place before the next millenium, and it is considered to be a suburb of Houston.  Finally, I arrived at my destination and was sorely disappointed at the lack of selection and outrageously high prices.  I had an inckling of hope that maybe, just maybe, the crappy economic situation would result in sympathetically reduced prices and further reductions upon purchase. However, this was not quite the case.  Banana Republic is my favorite store for clothing, and I know it's pretentious.  The outlet stores are a little bit of a joke, as most of the clothes look like the designs that were "Out" and didn't make the runway shows.  Also, some of the designs appeared to utilize thrown away scraps of material to make newer, uglier clothes.  

Another friend was in dire need of a fashion intervention.  So, in guiding her through the outer-transformation process, a couple of us took her to the Houston Galleria.  Now, this place is absolutely chaotic.  It seems like all these rich Latin and Asian people need somewhere to throw away money and since we aren't Vegas, the Galleria is the best place.  However, on a Saturday afternoon, there are so many freaks who are there to see and be seen.  Many fake-boobed, fake-tanned, fake-blond bimbos grace various corners, as well as the fake-(fill-in-the-blank) women of other ethnic groups.  They swarm through the stores, and snatch items like vultures.  Fitting rooms are somewhat of a safe haven from the crazies with money of Houston.  However, they take up fitting rooms with personal shoppers who guide them through the cold, dark aisles of clothing racks.  We decided to leave with out heads throbbing and ears ringing, and finally, have some relief of discomfort.  I think I had a few items snatched out of my hand, as well.  Even more annoying are the pretentious yuppie couples, needing to hold hands or be physically attached.  I always feel the need to say "RED ROVER" and charge through, potentially, knocking someone over.  Of course, if the dude is hot, I can take him over and keep him with me.. .  Please enjoy the following--and Gov Palin, I would LOVE to chat and get the answer!

God Bless America!!

Today, as I was walking into my office, for the first time in a while, I have actually felt really proud to be an American.  I stared at the Stars and Stripes, waving in the humid, Houston morning breeze.  The sun was out, the clouds were sparse in the bright, blue sky.  Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and the marigolds' fragrance permeated the air.  Life is beautiful again, as we have President-Elect Barack Obama to lead us into a new era of tolerance, diversity, and unity.  I am proud to call myself an American and a voter, as my voice was finally heard, with hundreds of millions of us who have had enough.  On this momentous post-Election Night, around twenty-four hours following the announcement of Obama's victory, we are still reveling in the relief and joy of this new chapter in American history.

Being an Indian American, and being the daughter of immigrants, Obama's words and values speak from my own heart.  Of course, John McCain graciously congratulated and accepted defeat. However, Governor Palin is not so gracious, along with her fellow redneck, gun-toting, fundamentalist BFF's in the "real" America.  She looked downright bitter, when McCain spoke.  She didn't even look him in the eye.  My favorite news source, Fox News, quoted her as saying that the Obama Camp "outspent us".  At least her concession prize can be her $150,000 wardrobe, if she doesn't auction it off on EBay.

OMG!!!! One more day of W!!!!!!!!!

Well, actually, it would be two and half more months of W, since January 20 will be the official change-over.  I am going crazy and I am not even going to "watch party", as I think I will be too anxious and nervous to even consider it.  I am thinking that with the young, ethnically diverse voters swarming to the polls, B.O. has a great chance.  According to CNN.com, B.O. has potential for 291 electoral votes, with 270 votes needed to win the prize.  

Also, I have discovered a new member to my menagerie of crap television programs.  Bravo is one network that always to possess more credibility (if that's possible for a cable television channel).  However, "The Rachel Zoe Project" caused me to experience some doubt, despite how much I loved watching the show.  Any misconceptions I had about Rachel Zoe were proven to be incorrect.  Zoe seemed to be understanding and passionate about her work.  Also, she displayed impeccable taste and style.  However, she is still an emotional train wreck.  But, the real drama was with her crazy assistants, Brad and Taylor.  Taylor was pretty psycho and Brad was excessively needy and codependent--a very troubling combination.

Now, Bravo seems to have discovered the Rachel Zoe of travel.  Meet this chick, Sara Duffy, an "elite travel" expert, star of the latest attempt to rub in to the rest of us how poor we are in this crappy economy.  "First Class All the Way" chronicles the lives of rich, entitled, demanding people from L.A. with enough Botox and silicon to use as alternative fuel on very extravagant vacations.  Now, what in the hell is "elite" travel.  Naturally, these folks are staying at the Holiday Inn.  They stay in the 6 star hotels in the most exotic locations.  This episode showed these very botoxed and silicon/salined chicks, who had arranged a trip to Paris and Monaco.  The trip included a cooking lesson with a chef from a renowned culinary institute.  They then jet-setted in a helicopter to Monaco, where they attended some exotic car show with an appearance the Prince Himself of Monaco.  Everyone wore their 6-inch stilletto Prada heels, with designer duds.  What creeps me out is that this elite travel expert, to whom we also refer as a "travel consierge", actually hangs out with her clients during these trips to wineries, car shows, and $1000/night luxury hotels.  Now, how is it a "vacation" with some chick that is not well-know hanging out.  It would like me going to the first day of school with my patients-- totally crazy.

2 More Days!!!!!!!!

I have already casted my early vote for Barack Obama and Joe Biden.  I only hope that something doesn't get eff'd up and my vote doesn't get counted.  We have been inundated for the last several weeks with the economy, who is raising taxes, who is a socialist, who is a communist, who cavorts with terrorists, etc.  Finally, it will come to a close, hopefully, the close that most of us would like to see.  If (God forbid) the other candidate, were to have a victory, I plan to secede from the union and form my own sovereign nation.  It will be smaller than Luxembourg, as my nation for now will be confined to my home.  

In my sovereign nation, we will have time to watch a new low in all trash television lows, "Rock of Love Charm School, with Sharon Osbourne".  This show is awesome, it maybe as good as "The Rachel Zoe Project".  Actually, it's definitely better.  These beeyotches are crazy and stupid, and it is so entertaining to watch them scratch, pull hair, push, hit, kick, and no, this isn't some Nanny 911 type of thing.  Today, they get to manage a band of dudes and a chick that are sort of thrown together, in the fashion of Lou Perlman's boy bands.  These chicks were deciding who would be in their bands by who is the hottest guy.  Yes, this would be my criteria for a rock band.  This challenge is obviously inspired by the video game.  I would say, I am sad to see Stupid Megan go, because her lack of intelligence and meanness is pretty fun to watch.  She will blatantly lie and manipulate a situation to target someone she doesn't like.  In fact, her aspirations began as wanting to be a trophy wife, and then evolved to pursuing a career in dentistry.  I am not sure what the difference is--maybe lipstick.

This is very entertaining: 

Drowning in Breast Milk

I really do not like breasts.  Additionally, I do not like nipples.  I don't like it when those guido-type guys wear really tight shirts and you can see their nipples.  I definitely do not like seeing women's nipples.  It isn't that I'm uncomfortable, after all, I have my own breasts complete with nipples (only 2).  However, I really do not care to have other people's nipples invading my visual field.  In fact, nipples to me exemplify the sense offense.  Many of my patients are in the breastfeeding stage of life.  Obviously, being a developmental pediatrician, I encourage breastfeeding.  It promotes health, growth, immunity, and solidifies the relationship between a mother and her child.  

Nonetheless, I really don't want to be visually assaulted by a breast feeding mother and child.  I am not completely opposed to public breast feeding, but, please, ladies--just cover with a blanket.  I have a patient whose mother keeps her in a snuggly-sling contraption, and will whip out the breast when the baby utters any resemblance of a sound.  During her appointment, the baby would turn to me and coo, smile, laugh, etc., trying to get attention.  I wanted to reinforce the baby's socialization.  When I directed my gaze to the baby's direction, while her mother was talking, I was visually bitch-slapped by this huge nipple.  I almost fell out of my chair.  I honestly had nightmares of the nipple afterwards.  Well, this family returned today, and now, the baby is a one-year-old, who still has access to the boob.  Her mother is essentially a dairy, and this child is draining it.  It came time for me to examine the baby, like listening to her vital organs (heart and lungs) and checking reflexes, eyes, ears, etc.  The breast was out and visible.  I tried my best to politely give some time for the baby to finish with the eating process and allow her mother to place the breast/nipple back into the shirt, so it wouldn't be staring at me.  Finally, the breast went back into its proper place, and I was able to listen to the baby's heart.  

I have actually had to hold people's breast milk, before.  Of course, it was in a bottle, but, still--GROSS!!!  A lady on an airplane, to whom my father offered my expert services, was feeding her baby.  I actually got to hear the baby's medical history and there was a bottle of breast milk.  She needed me to hold the bottle--not that she couldn't have used one of those lame retractable tray tables, or anything.  It was pretty disgusting, and I think that some may have actually spilled on my jacket.  One time, it was for a work colleague who finished a marathon session with a breast pump.  I think I double-gloved myself and wore an isolation gown, and placed the bottles in a very thick paper bag, while wearing the protective face mask.

I Went to Houston's Version of Carnival, and all I got was a bottle of water

The Brazilian Arts Foundation in Houston, Texas, celebrated Brazilian Independence Day with much fan fair in the middle of the Theater District.  There were free samba lessons, capoeira demonstrations, performances--none of which I could actually watch.  I celebrated Brazilian Independence Day (even though I am Indian American) by selling beer.  Many people of Brazilian descent and other various ethnic descents purchased many beers from our modest little bar.  One could say I fulfilled a little fantasy of mine, being a quasi-bartender for a night.  I really wanted to juggle the cans of Budweiser, Bud Light, and Bud Select.  Now, a few people actually attempted to speak Portuguese to me, which I did not understand at all.  I even got asked, "Wait, you're not Brazilian?"  Of course, all brown people look alike, I know, yet, I found it very flattering that these old white men would think I would be Brazilian.  Now, I figure, Brazilians are all hot, women and men alike.  Now, if one were to confuse little, Indian me for one of the hot Brazilian chicks, then, if A=B and B=C, then, I must be hot!  Ha, ha. . .  

I realized that men drinking alcohol are very relaxed.  Eventually, they start talking to you.  I also realized that men love women who are selling them booze.  Of course, I really don't drink, because I love to harass drunk people.  However, men really start flirting with women who sell them booze.  I mean, it's not like I was giving it away.  I had to take their four drink tickets.  However, if I would talk to them, they would actually respond.  I flashed my pearly whites, and they reciprocated.  They even laughed at all of my stupid jokes, and, I must confess, they were pretty lame.  I felt like I found the Holy Grail of picking up dudes, since I was a hot, pseudo-Brazilian chick selling expensive cheap booze to semi-intoxicated men for a night.

What Happens in Minneapolis Should Happen Everywhere

The highlight of the Republican National Convention. . .sorry, that is somewhat of an oxymoron. . .is, depending on which Fox News reporter one chooses to follow, was the speech by VP candidate, Governor Sarah Palin.  US Weekly is making claims that there were half-million more viewers of the John McCain acceptance speech compared to the Senator Obama acceptance speech, which was actually much better.  

However, my highlight, which I never really got to experience was the Rage Against the Machine concert at the Target Center.  They entered the stage in their Gitmo attire, with those loud sirens, and then they break into "Bombtrack".  I love the added theatrics of the Gitmo prisoner scenario, probably a metaphor for our country, being imprisoned by the atrocities of the current administration.  In the storm of Obama-bashing, the sun could finally shine with RATM's setlist, which included every hit.  Of course, the whole performance culminated with "Killing in the Name".  The show before ended in a bit of a riot, with fans chanting the mantra, "F--- you, I won't do what you tell me!"  I will admit, that listening to RATM tends to increase around elections for me.  It is easy to really get caught up in the rebellion of the music and the powerful lyrics.  

Frankly, I really could not tolerate John McCain's speech for the entire time.  Finally, when he started in with the POW stuff, I just changed the channel forever.  However, it was fun to see how many times he would start over because he couldn't read the teleprompter.  I could actually read the teleprompter, thank you cameraman.  Of course, McCain wants to bring about "change" and "hope".  I can only hope that he is not elected, otherwise, I will have to change my country of residence.  Actually, I have decided that if, God forbid, McCain were to win, I would just secede from the Union and form my own sovereign nation.  I would prefer a peaceful separation, following the leaders of freedom, like Mohandas Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Nelson Mandela.  So far, my country would be population: 1--I am not sure I could even get Olympic qualification, unless I could convince Michael Phelps to move to my country.  I would give him free citizenship. . .  

Brief Encounter with the Dark Side

Sarah Palin, John McCain's Vice-Presidential running mate on the Republican ticket, just finished her pep rally power drill with the Republican delegates.  I felt compelled to watch, as we know nothing about her, except she has a pregnant teenage daughter, loves her guns, and is married to a hot, outdoorsy-type guy.  We also are aware of her allegiance to the Neo-Con Christian Right, her pro-life stance, where even a moose wouldn't be neutered.  

She entered the stage with an updated hairstyle for the usual hair-clip bun in the back and a snazzy suit, with jaquard-shiny jacket.  Her daughters and Cindy McCain were also having good hair days.  I was reminded of some sorority sister, campaigning for, like, sorority queen/president, or whatever that office-bearer's name is.  She is promising everything from less government to lower taxes to free beer at the White House.  The most entertaining moment was watching her youngest daughter, Piper, hold the baby, Trig, and smooth out his hair by first licking her hand very effectively and then slicking this poor baby's hair back.  Another camera shot showed Piper picking Trig's eyelash.  They were like chimpanzees, picking lice off of each other and eating them.  This family could either live in Appalachia or the Ozarks, or in the D.C. loop--what a wonderful representation of our moral majority.

Another obsession from today was this older gentleman at the gym working out in the weights area with his bare feet.  At one point, he actually rested his feet on the hand weights.  Fortunately for me, I can't lift the weights he used as a foot stool.  Nonetheless, this whole scenario was rather repulsive.  God only knows what body fluids are on the floor at a gym and what organisms are harboring and breeding on this nasty floor.  I don't even like setting my water bottle on the floor. The barefoot wonder eventually stood next to me, and I wasn't sure if I should run the to the opposite end of the gym or just leave.  I opted to stare out the window--in the opposite direction of the feet.  Now, I assume he must be one of those metro men that gets pedi-mani spa treatments, because his feet actually looked, well nice.

Restoring Honor and DIgnity to . . . My Life??

Today, in the wake of the Republican National Convention and the close of Gustav's recent trek through the Gulf Coast, I actually spent a majority of my day under hypnosis by my computer.  I entered the second of two research protocols into the online program.  These protocols are tedious and arduous, at the hands of the pharmaceutical industry.  We are trying to see if a medication can help some of my patients with improved quality of life.  However, I realize that I really had the drug companies and capitalism.  I feel like a drug whore. . .it makes me feel so cheap and dirty.

Capitalism is the root of evil.  However, if I lived in Cuba, I would have to give up the Banana Republic sales.  I would probably be limited to one iTunes download per 6 month interval.  I also would not be able to own a laptop--I would probably have to share my old Dell laptop with my father, brother, aunts, uncles, and first cousins.  I would only be able to own my one old pair of Gap jeans--my Banana Republic and 7 for all Mankind jeans would be rationed to my friends and family.  I am sure that I could sneak them in and hide them in a bomb shelter from the government.  Of course, as I contemplate giving up my possessions to my loved ones to share wealth in honor of Karl Marx, I am inundated with the Republican National Convention.  There was a plethora of lame speeches beginning with President Bush.  Fred Thompson and Joe Lieberman rounded out the crapfest, which was entertaining, actually.  It is a very monochromatic experience, with an occasional splash of brown to offset the lack of color in the auditorium.  However, the Labor Day weekend had several replays of of of my new favorite shows "Top 20 Political Sex Scandals".  I always love a good sex scandal, and E! channel has redeemed itself.  The number one scandal is that classic with then Governor Elliot Spitzer of New York, a vigilante who brought down many white collar criminals and his thing for prostitutes.  I am amazed with this Emperor's Club "escort" service and the diamond classification system.  I think if I were like a one-diamond, I would just give it up.  I still aspire to be a stripper--maybe I can hook up with an aging C.E.O. of a drug company.

Land of the Lame

Well, Gustav appeared to avoid Houston all together--smart.  I wouldn't come to this craphole, either.  New Orleans is a little more fun and even has a drink named after it's species.  The best part is all of this over-dramatized news coverage.  Like, for example, a hot, concerned, wet Anderson Cooper has been providing minute-by-minute updates on the damage, rain, flooding, wind speed, etc.  He scored an interview with Senator/Future President Barack Obama, as well, grilling Senator Obama with such pressing, provocative questions, such as, "What do you think about the Republicans criticizing you and saying the Governor Palin has more executive experience than you?"  Our Future President had a very thoughtful answer, and also made a point very well.

My friends and I visited one of the touristy, annoying destinations better known as the "Kemah Boardwalk".  It is a popular location for people to take their hyperactive children, high schoolers to gather and cause mayhem, and for couples to have a very special date moment.  There are restuarants, carnival contests, carnival rides (including a roller coaster) and various souvenir shops.  Now, since this is southeast Houston, it is also 95 degrees and fully humid, from the water.  Fortunately, my hair remained perfectly "CHI'd".  However, there was still this layer of filth that landed itself upon me.  It is one of the most annoying places, as there are people everywhere, too.  Many of the people are either trying to appear more trendy and on par with "Young Hollyweird".  It's filthy, slimy, and disgusting there.  The only food options are seafood, obviously, which would have worked about 4 years ago for me.  Thank Goodness for French fries.   

New People, New Places, New Things. . .

So, we are all in shock and disbelief over John McCain's running mate, Governor Sarah Palin, from Alaska.  As my dad observed, "Why did he pick this bimbo as his running mate?"  Of course, my dad's favorite word of the moment is actually "bimbo".  Of course, we all suspected that McCain was doing his best to court the jilted Hillary Clinton-supporters.  Since the demographic in this group is largely Caucasian women over 50 years, he was wanting to assure some advantage by appealing to them. So, this will make the upcoming campaigning very interesting.  Incidentally, Governor Palin's youngest child also has Down syndrome.  Since many of the children I see in my clinic have Down syndrome, we will see how this factors into voting.  My concern is that parents of children who have Down syndrome may vote for McCain/Palin '08 out of allegiance.  This is not the best choice, when thinking long term for their children.  Republicans are not known for their concern for social programs and supporting all citizens in this country.  Democrats are more likely to channel funding to support education and community programs to benefit all children, especially those who can benefit more.  Now, my boss was commenting on how "unstylish" Governor Palin is, since she wears her hair in a bun and wears glasses.  I mentioned to my boss, "You know, she was apparently a beauty pagent queen".  My boss, who happens to be the lady who wears men's oxfords in various colors and long, khaki skirts in a variety of neutral shades EVERY DAY, replied, "Yeah, but, in Alaska."  Again, my boss is not exactly a fashionista, by any means, so the irony of her criticizing Governor Palin's sense of style is rather hilarious.

So, I was listening to my Launchcast radio while working from home, and I heard some blasts from the past: Ned's Atomic Dustbin, "Grey Cell Green" and Soup Dragons.  It took me back to college, driving around Kansas City in my Oldsmobile with my friends, cruising down Ward Parkway and blasting "Kill Your Television".  I made my first visit to a former SuperSport 24 hour Fitness, that's been downgraded to a Sport gym.  There is actually a "VIP" locker room, that requires a code.  The main difference is that there appears to be granite countertops and pink lockers (vs. rusty blue).  

Songs on Repeat and WTF?????

I cannot get that song by Zack de la Rocha's new project, One Day as a Lion, with Mars Volta drummer, Jon Theodore out of my head.  I love that song, "Wild International", which has been very instrumental for getting me pumped in the morning.  I had to actually look up the lyrics, and I must say, good job, Zack!  These lyrics are powerful and meaningful, which is difficult to find in a song gets radio airplay.  So, I have a tendency to repeat it a few times in the car.  Also, "1,000,000" by Nine Inch Nails gets repeated quite often.  This track makes a great morning pick me up when it's raining outside and I can't get out of my car to go to Starbuck's to get some strong coffee, so I won't mess up my CHI'd hair. 

Now, for the WTF songs:  The Verve, "Love is Noise". . .I do not understand the possibility of this becoming a song.  There are dogs barking, throughout this song!  I guess if Mick Jagger doesn't write your songs for you, they essentially suck.  Some weird song, called "Black and Gold", by Sam Sparro--again, WTF.  This sounds like some bad Seventies nightmare.  This song would be best served on an adult contemporary station, soft rock, or smooth jazz, all of which induce homicidal and suicidal feelings within.  Yes, I did hear on Ryan Seacrest's website, the new track by Chris Cornell with Timbaland.  I love Chris Cornell, and again, WTF?  And, of course, WHY??????  Why, Chris, why???????  If my 14-year-old cousin downloads this song, every ideal I try to represent is compromised.  Chris, please, just put out some more "Euphoria Morning" or get back with Soundgarden.

Lend Me Your Ear. . .

As I am watching Joe Biden accept the vice-presidential nomination, it occurs to me that I will wake up in a few hours. I am realizing that my day will be filled with interesting stories, challenging situations, and emotional turbulence.  In my line of work, as a developmental pediatrician, I get to meet with families after the dreaded realization that their child is not the child they hoped they would raise.  In addition, I have this uncanny ability to ellicit large amounts of personal information from people, whether in my office or anywhere else.

Many times, when I am reviewing paperwork, I have to sift through these novels and sonnets composed by anxious mothers.  They chronicle every strange behavior observed, such as the things they eat, the things they watch on television, the things they do to themselves, their parents, and other kids. . . it is crazy-making.  They write this multivolume epic and do not actually say anything with substance.  But, the best part is when they come to the office.  These kids have mothers who are ready to commit verbal diarrhea in a limited 2-hour time period.  

I try to begin by asking a simple question, "What concerns do you have for your child today?"  However, it is this simple inquiry that opens a flood gate and I drown.  The anxious mothers proceed to complain about every little characteristic that they do not like about their child.  Today, I had a mother basically say, "From the beginning, I knew that something just wasn't right".  Now, how on earth do people know that something is "not right" with a newborn?  Unless they don't eat or don't sleep, it is very difficult to label a newborn as "weird".  I would literally ask this lady a question, and after twenty minutes of talking without taking a breath, she never actually answered the original question.  At that point, I could never actually remember what I asked.  The true victim is not me (even though it seems like it would be), but, actually the poor kid.  I would ask this mother a question such as, "What did your daughter eat as an infant?"  This mother would provide this very lengthy description of her breast milk, the force and velocity of the projectile vomiting, and the exact quantity that would cause the vomiting.  The schedule of the daily diet was another issue.  The child was much more efficient and sadly, much more informative.  Afterwards, I needed to spend twenty minutes on You Tube, watching "Does it Blend?", so my brain could regenerate.

I'm not saying she's a golddigger. . .

Even though it's a mute point, I'm still a little obsessed with the John Edwards-Rielle Hunter affair.  An article in last week's issue of Newsweek by a journalist who developed some strange friendship with Rielle consisted of a very interesting memoir.  The journalist had been covering John Edwards's campaign back in 2004.  He noticed this woman, considered to be attractive, who was hanging around.  Rielle Hunter was making video clips of Senator Edwards, whom she touted as the next "Gandhi".  Now, as an Indian American, I find that offensive.  I lean to the left, however, John Edwards as the next "Mahatma" is a very far cry from plausible.  Maureen Dowd had a wonderful column, with one of my favorite lines, "'You cannot beat me up more than I have already beaten up myself.  I have been stripped bare.' Isn't stripping bare how he got into this mess?", in reference to a statement he made in response to the news breaking.  Of course, Hunter recently gave birth to a daughter, claiming her baby daddy was Senator Edwards.  However, one of his campaign aides stepped up to claim the baby daddy role, as he now lives in California in a multimillion dollar home.

As a hard working, accomplished, not-that-unattractive woman with integrity, I am embarrassed by women like Rielle Hunter.  So many like her, who make people think that they are attractive, manipulate men, and eventually, sleep with whomever can catapult their very own starpower.  Of course, we are reading this garbage, and watching it on the news.  Politicians, by nature, are expected to have extramarital affairs.  I don't completely blame the men.  Women can be opportunistic leeches.  My cousin used to label them, "needy bitches".  There is some codependent, yet desirable quality that these women appear to exude, convincing men that they are the ultimate prize.  They sleep with these men quite early in the getting- acquainted process.  Men, as we all know, will basically sleep with anything breathing that has a place to stick it.  Of course, they conveniently forget to take that birth control pill or they don't insist that the guy uses that condom in his Louis Vuitton wallet.  Low and behold, a child is born, a symbol of the gold-digging, opportunist who has no maternal instinct.  They are in the same category as rats, who eventually will cannabalize their own offspring.

Good Times

Aaaaaah!  To have internet access again. . .I never realized how co-dependent I was on my computer.  I have a very unhealthy relationship with my Macbook Pro.  Well, I can finally process my night of pure ecstatic pleasure.  Nine Inch Nails played an amazing set at the Toyota Center in Houston on August 16th.  It was indescribably amazing.  I bought by tickets presale, and these tickets were actually pretty.  They had a nice visual piece, not just the Ticketmaster generic look.  My name was also on the ticket--did a lot for my fragile ego.  I was a few rows from the stage initially.  When NIN came out, initially playing "999,999" and then blasting into "1,000,000", I was completely enthralled to be so close.  Then, the mosh pit caved in upon me, practically suffocating me.  These huge, hairy, sweaty mammoths were all over the place.  The multiplied and descended in full-force upon the front of the stage.  I had to fight them off from all ends, like Mortal Kombat.  Of course, I had to dodge the occasional body surfer, attempting to make a statement, flipping the bird at the security dudes in the front.  Finally, after fighting through these enormous, sweaty, stinky monsters, I made it to the front of the stage, and it was all good from there.  The stage set was stunning, with the screens, lights, and arrangement of the band members.  I was in front of Justin Meldel-Johnsen, the bassist for the band.  Trent Reznor and I had a few moments--we made eye contact. . .especially when he sang the chorus to "Closer".  NIN played for 2 hours, showering fans with a variety of songs spanning the twenty-year career.  This was my first real mosh-pit experience, at the ripe old age of 35 years.  It was the most amazing experience for me.  After my obsessive-compulsive inhibitions slowly dropped, I realized that yes, there were gross guys sweating on me and I was touching people/people were touching me inappropriately.  However, it didn't even matter.  I guess I could summarize the experience in the form of a Mastercard commercial:

1.  The NIN ticket through the fan presale: $55.00

2.  The cheese pizza my friend and I ate before, from Star Pizza: $12.00

3.  The parking in the Toyota Center: $10.00

4.  The watch I lost in the mosh-pit, given to me by one of my crazy cousins, purchased in Germany: $50.00 (I'm guessing 25 euros)

5.  The earring I lost in the mosh-pit: $2.00

6.  The bruise on my arm and my sore left shoulder: don't know, but, my shoulder hurt for a couple of days, I guess I really am getting old.

7.  Being in front of the stage while my favorite band and my ultimate rockstar fantasy boyfriend/husband is bringing my favorite songs to life, and being able to sing along: priceless.

Stuff That I Like

I found 2 hilarious websites as a result of stalling in Barnes and Nobles to avoid getting my perfectly straightened hair wet.  I looked at Stuff White People Like, the book, and I must say, I was laughing aloud.  Not since the Daily Show's book America, did such a strong reaction ensue.  So, I checked out the website, which is hilarious.  Fortunately, I did not waste the $14.00 on the book, as the website is essentially the book.  Of course, curiosity led me to check out potential websites about my peeps, the Desi/Brown people.  There is in fact a "stuff that desi/brown people like" website, which is equally humorous.  However, although I am a Brown chick, I actually liked more of the stuff that white people liked, such as the Apple products, the Toyota Prius, Indie music, music festivals, Whole Foods, and Asian fusion cuisine.  Oh, I cannot forget, Barack Obama (#8, SWPL).  However, the Desi/Brown people website nailed it with the "Niagara Falls" comparison to the American Varanasi, as usually the first place most of our parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc. from India visit is. . . Niagara Falls.  

New Lows in Television

The E! Channel should really change its name to "The Bimbo" Channel.  It seems as though there is twenty-four hours worth of reality shows featuring various bimbo celebutards.  First, we have the "Girls Next Door", who are the fake-blond, fake- breast-implanted girlfriends of everyone's favorite octogenarian, Hugh Hefner.  Now, to think that these women, who are really old enough to be his granddaughters, are actually sleeping with that is very repulsive.  However, we are plagued with their trials and tribulations of high end shopping, partying in Vegas, and cleaning up the excrement of their various trophy pets.  Then, there are the Kardashian sisters.  Now, I actually wanted to like them, because they are brown girls, also.  They lost their father, and I wanted to empathize.  Yet, I am unable to tolerate more than five minutes at a time of their bitch-fest, where they are fighting, crying, whining, shopping, and talking trashily to their mother.  The best are the two youngest, who are both on their ways to bimbohood.  Lastly, there is the Pamela Anderson train-wreck, "Girl on the Loose".  I think that concept just speaks for itself, as Pamela Anderson is the epitome of the bimbo.  She is the unreachable pedestal of aspiring bimbos.  Let's not forget Denise Richards, although, she was slightly more tolerable, for up to seven minutes.  I really cannot watch E! anymore, as I get this bimbo overload.  I feel like I'm acquiring the bimboness, but, osmosis, from just watching the miniscule amounts of E!, the Bimbo network that I can tolerate.

The White Obsession

Why are we so fascinated with the lives of rich, white people?  Fox News latches on quickly to every white woman or child who is missing.  If a pregnant white lady or young white child is missing, you know that Greta Van Sustern and Geraldo Rivera are all over it like mold on bread.  Their pictures are plaster on every Fox News program, from Papa Bear Bill O'Reilly to Hannity and Colmes.  Currently, Casey Anthony, the mother of the missing 2-year-old, Caylee, is the subject of everyone's fancy.  Why--she is some young, supposedly attractive white chick with circulating photos of her "bumping and grinding" with some stripper-chick at a club after her daughter was missing.  Of course, we can't forget Lacey Peterson, Natalie Holloway, and that crazy Runaway Bride chick, with the psychotically exopthalmic gaze.  What Fox News fails to mention is the large number of missing children/women of other ethnic backgrounds, such as black or Hispanic.  Obviously, in the media's constant race to attract the Borderline to Mildly impaired moral majority, the big stories are always the attractive white people who are missing.  Not that it is not important to be aware of innocent people who are missing--I empathize tremendously with their loved ones.  However, I would love to see the same importance given to the rest of us pigmented folk when we have been kidnapped or runaway.

Held Hostage by Tropical Storm Edouard

So T.S. Edouard came for a visit to Southeast Texas, sliding through Houston also.  Now, he is a little depressed, as he was unable to really cause too much damage.  Nonetheless, my places of work closed for the day, in lieu of possible flooding which could potentially trap employees and patients.  So, basically, I got to sit home and watch it rain--ALL DAY.  However, I learned a few things:  

1.  There is really nothing but crap on television.  

2.  There are way too many stupid people in the world--I learned this from watching the daily Court shows (Judge Mathis, Judge Cristina, and the People's Court).

3.  Sitting around doing nothing can make you really hungry.

4.  Sitting around doing nothing can make you really sleepy.

5.  I can waste a great portion of my life on the computer/internet/etc.

All I really needed to know I learned while watching it rain during Tropical Storm Edouard.  It was quite a life-changing experience.  Now, I have the distinct pleasure of watching Ricky Martin Unplugged.  Nice!  I will never believe any rumors regarding his sexual orientation.  He is just very sensitive.

Wherefore art thou sitting next to me?

One of my pet peeves is overly amorous, obnoxious couples.  They grate under my skin like nails on a chalkboard.  I found a seat by the window in an occupied area of the plane, so I settled myself, took out my magazine, and prepared to read quietly.  Then, they arrive--the newlyweds.  I was really surprised the groom did not carry his new bride over the threshold and through the aisles into their seats.  So there was a lot of touching, caressing, kissing, etc.--thank God for iPods.  They informed the flight attendants that they just got married the day of the flight.  Of course, there was an announcement made on the overhead speaker system, in conjunction with "fasten your seatbelts" and "please stow your tray tables and bring your seat to its upright position".  This announcement prompted fellow passengers to inquire about how the lovebirds met, fell in love, tied the knot, etc.  The bride answered, "We met at a midnight showing of Lord of the Rings and we've been best friends ever since." AWWWW!  She also described how their wedding was inspired by a painting of Napoleon and Josephine, as her husband wore 18th century period clothing complete with puffy shirt and riding boots.  A young boy wearing a puffy shirt on the plane had been a groomsman.  I must admit, it was really sweet and they seemed like a very nice couple, in spite of their annoying coupleness.

Obama vs McCain--the Dalai Lama factor

Senator Barrack Obama's recent whirlwind European vacay has been well documented by our favorite media junkets.  The video diary will be up for sale soon, to raise money for his campaign.  Senator Obama has been photographed with the leaders of strategic Middle Eastern and European countries.  He wore a yammakah, at the wailing wall in Israel.  However, the best photo opprotunity did not present any yammakah-wearing; John McCain was holding the hand of the Dalai Lama.  Now, I love the Dalai Lama.  But, John McCain???? EWWWWW!  They had a meet and greet in ASPEN of all places.  Aspen--the haven for rich, white, over-privileged Americans.  Did Senator McCain take the Dalai Lama to a drink to his favorite bar for a cocktail or hot chocolate?

I am Pretty App-Happy!

So I didn't wait in line at the Houston Galleria for three weeks so I could get my iPhone 3G bright and early on Friday, July 11.  Incidentally, I was in Boston, sleeping in my "heavenly bed" at the Westin Waterfront.  Nonetheless, I decided that my iPhone EDGE is okay for now.  However, after a mere 15-minute download, I finally did get the iPhone 2.0 software.  The app store KICKS ASS!!!  I wasted a valuable 3 hours of my life downloading every free app available.  My personal favorite is the "Phone Saber".  It begins as just the handle; it then progresses to a choice between the rebel forces and Empire (green vs. red); and when you swing the phone just so, you hear the sound effects of the Star Wars light saber.  I could, like, fight a friend.  There is also the Pandora Radio app, which is pretty kick-ass, because I can listen to my playlist without actually putting any songs from my iTunes on the phone--NICE!  Of course, the Bubble Wrap--aah, the bubble wrap is quite soothing and strange, all at the same time.  For now, I am quite satisfied with my iPhone EDGE.  All Apple needs to do is improve the Bluetooth and ad a video capture camera, and I am sold.  I am sure someone will come up with a porn app, if not already.

Another Fun-filled Moment with Creepy Old Men

I am a HUGE sucker for a good sex scandal, especially if it involves creepy old men.  My current fixation is Ronald Ayers, a 60-year-old economics professor at University of Texas, San Antonio.  He has already been dismissed from his position for downloading porn on his work computer.  What a dumbass!!!  There were recently some emails released to thesmokinggun.com, which read like bad Penthouse Forum pieces.  The correspondence revolves around how little his female students were wearing around him and how much he thought they wanted him.  After all, he is a delusional 60-year-old man.  He refers to women's breasts as "chest puppies" and "lovely, fleshy mounds".  Chest puppies??????????  EWWWWW!!!!  In addition, he delightedly mentioned buying used lingerie from Goodwill with "the worn, unwashed thong with the delightful aroma".  Mr. Ayers is experiencing his weird D.H. Lawrence epiphany at 60 years of age, in his small university position, which he no longer has.  There is some code he uses, such as pron for porn.  Ironically, his byline at the end with his signature is "your partner in teaching excellence".  He continues to describe the saga of two women, one fat and one goth, with whom he wishes to engage in some "relations".  Who will he get. . .the fat or the goth. . .or the possible stripper/bartender. . .or the "sexy grannie"?  One will only know if they read the continuation on thesmokinggun.com.

Who R U?

 VH1 just televised "Rock Honors: The Who", and I really watched because I wanted to see some of my favorite bands.  Although I like The Who; I love "My Generation" and the song from CSI.  However, I really wanted to see Pearl Jam, Foo Fighters, and Incubus, whom I love.  I must say, Roger Daltrey is the same age as my dad.  However, I would still sleep with him.  He is still pretty hot.  I am sure that the Botox, Restylane, collagen, etc.  However, he is still a sexy bitch.  I am relieved that the spectators in the front were actually the old people who are big fans, and not snotty teenagers whose parents shell out all this money for them to spend frivolously.  One of the outtakes was rather humorous, when Jose from Incubus appeared rather irritated by the blond bimbo host.  Although I missed most of it, because "Project Runway" was on, I did catch the end of Pearl Jam, which rocked, of course.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers

I recently suffered and survived a major sense offense.  Obnoxious couples are amazingly irritating.  These married couples, who are in their late 20's to mid-30's, have small children, and are always inseparable.  The husband is wearing usually some athletic/geographic/collegiate T-shirt with cargo shorts and the wife is dressed either in an Ann Taylor Loft dress or walking shorts with matching flip-flops.  After they get married, they lose their true identities, referring to each other only as "Babe", "Sweetie", or "Honey".  Examples include, "Hey, Sweetie, did you get my Starbucks latte with 3 packs of sugar?", "Oh, darn it, Sweetie, I forgot!  Let me go and get the extra sugar, okay, Sweetie?", all spoken in extremely loud voices.  Sometimes, they actually have the audacity to form some sort of human to human connection, with the hand-holding and arms intertwined.  They are incapable of being apart, whether it be going to the grocery store, gym, Target, or even, Banana Republic.  The female member of this couple usually has blond highlights, make up, and/or hair pulled back into a cute pony tail.  The males usually have each strand of balding hair perfectly gelled and sculpted into a very careful formation, similar to blades of grass or mulch.  

These couples are an assault to every sense.  My eyes bleed at the sight of these perfect, white, country club, homecoming pairs.  My ears ring at the shrill voices referring to each other as the ambiguous "Sweetie" and "Babe".  My skin crawls at the combined sight and sound, and my stomach churns.  My mouth tastes like metal, and my nostrils convulse at the combined odor of Polo cologne and Estee Lauder Pleasures.  Obviously, I want to get married, have babies, blah, blah, blah.  But, someone shoot me if I transform into one of these spineless, identity-less freaks.

Stinkiest Airlines

I absolutely hate flying on airplanes.  If it weren't for Frank Rich's book, my iPod, and a cup of ice. . .err, Diet Coke. . .I would be driven to a Xanax, Valium, and Tequila cocktail.  Of course, I have a tendency to fly Southwest Airlines, and I am obsessed with being in boarding group A.  If I'm not in boarding group A, I am not having a good flight.

So, since I get my pick of the prime seats, I usually try to pick a window seat without pretzel and peanut debris that is as close as possible to the front and still a safe distance from the exit row.  Since I am South Asian, I am usually the one that people avoid, except for elde

rly couples who are interested in what makes me tick.  Occasionally, the single traveling chick sits in my row.  As we were nearing departure, and the middle seat next to me was empty, I was preparing to move my bag under that middle seat to secure extra legroom.  However, my 

plan was foiled, when a young man talking on his cellphone sat in the seat.  An odor began to permeate my nostrils very shortly afterwards.  My first reaction was to very casually get a whif of my own armpits, and all was well.  It eventually occurred to me that the young man adorned in athletic gear sitting beside me had been involved in a physical activity and did not bother to shower afterwards.  My instinct told me he probably had gone for several days without any cleansing procedure.  However, even stinky people are nice, and in spite of the B.O., he was kind of cute.  He asked to borrow my Rolling Stone magazine.  I 

would have burned it, however, I like the Obama cover.

Mac and Me

As lame as it is, I am 35-years-old, single, and I would much rather stay home and play with my MacBook Pro.  I used to have a Powerbook, and now, I upgraded, finally.  I am in love with the glossy monitor, the graphics, the Photo Booth.  I have been trying to get all of my photos situated, as well.  The Firewire cable is your best friend, and it was so easy for me to transfer my life between macs.  I know, I am a complete geek.  Also, it really doesn't take much.

So, I am reading how several young Obama campaign workers have adopted his middle name as their own, so for example, one of them is "John Hussein Smith".  This is to promote solidarity.  I am sure that their very Caucasian parents may not be thrilled at this time, but, I'm sure that they will get over it.  

WTF?? Part 1

Today is my birthday, and I have the esteem and honor of sharing my birthday with some very talented, reputable celebrities. . .the Olson twins!  Yes, that would be Mary Kate and Ashley, of "Full House" fame and cinematic masterpieces such as "New York Minute", "It Takes Two", and "How the West was Fun".  I got to party with my friends, and my party ended not too long ago.  As I watch Bonnaroo weekend on Fuse, I discover that the Olson twins are still partying--at Bonnaroo.  Why do these dumb bitches (Olsons, Hiltons, Kardashians, etc.) get to do cool stuff, like go to Bonnaroo, Coachella, etc., when they probably don't listen to half the bands playing?  

I will quit my bitching and moaning to pay my respects.  I love Tim Russert, and when I heard the news of his sudden passing, I was deeply saddened.  My respectful condolences go to his family and friends, as we all remember the impact Mr. Russert made on journalism, news, and political reporting for the American media.  I love "Meet the Press", and Mr. Russert brings integrity, respect, and balance to the media, in a time where these values are lacking.  He will always be a wonderful model for journalists presently in the media.

So Many Assholes. . .

The Cure concert in Houston on June 9 was a little slice of Heaven, to quote our great Prez's comments about Slovenia.  However, although Robert Smith and co. rocked the Toyota Center, I had a revelation, which occurred previously, yet, was validated on this fateful night.  Houston is full of assholes.  Of course, this is evident when I drive to work and home each day, when I go grocery shopping at Whole Foods or Central Market (a haven for assholes, and some of my friends), and when I go to concerts.  Now, I love live music.  Of course, I love The Cure.  My clear view of Robert Smith's smudged lipstick and carefully placed hair was obstructed by none other than an annoying couple--making out.  It never fails to amaze me that people spend about $50.00 for a concert ticket, wait for months, plan ahead, and spend the entire time sucking face.  I am a peaceful, Buddhist-ish, Prius-driving person.  However, I had the incredible urge to push them over.  I was hoping by screaming at the top of my lungs in their ears would inspire them to move.  I was not so lucky.  Also, it has been confirmed that there really aren't any cool people here in Houston.  

Moving on to non-asshole news, congratulations Stephanie Izard, our Top Chef from the Chicago group and to Senator Barack Obama, who will hopefully be our President from the Chicago group.  Of course, congrats to me, as my birthday is tomorrow.  

Bye Bye Dale

I am sad.  I just saw poor Dale, teary, and whimpering after being asked to "Please pack your knives and go" by Padma.  Anthony Bourdain, who Padma is banging currently amongst others, was the head judge.  Although Dale was a prick at times, I really liked him.  He's really cute and he is a great chef.  I actually was certain he would go pretty far.  Now, my bets are Richard, Antonia, and Stephanie.  Well, Radiohead has come and gone and they only played the entire album of "In Rainbows".  At least I got my Nine Inch Nails floor tickets-yay!  Of course, my channel flipping ADHD was between Gael Garcia Bernal and my boy, Dale.  

Well, Memorial Park has turned into the ultimate dog toilet, and there is some bad doggie diarrhea, because there was dog crap everywhere.  Of course, Houston is hot and humid, and the whole city essentially smells like crap.

The Latest Trend

I am guilty for falling for music business marketing trends during my youth.  However, as I sit on my sofa watching a Top Chef marathon while Radiohead is getting ready to hit the stage in the Woodlands Pavillion outside of Houston and I DO have ONE TICKET, I am plagued by recurrent commercials of some new singing chick.  This "Duffy" actually sounds a lot like Amy Winehouse.  Now, how many British white chicks are there who sing soul music?  To me, they are overrated.  Of course, upon further research, she is actually Welsh.  Needless to say, Amy Winehouse has many Grammies under her belt, as well as some assault convictions and erratic behavior.  As Great Britain has produced some of my favorite artists, i.e., Radiohead, The Smiths, Depeche Mode, etc., I am beginning to doubt the soul-singing white chick factory.  So, Radiohead is getting prepped, ready, and will be playing the first few bars of "Bodysnatchers" and I am sitting on my ass, typing this.  Oh well, such is life. . .

Still Hoping. . .

I would LOVE to have a date for the Radiohead concert in Houston--who has his own tickets, of course, so I can take my own ticket and we can have a great time before and after the show (Trent Reznor, that means you, since it is on your birthday).  On another note, I will gladly vote for Barrack Obama this fall.  My dad likes to stress the fact that Senator Obama's middle name happens to be Hussein and also refers to him as "Borat" Obama.  When I am not watching CNN (read: Anderson Cooper), my current favorite soft-core porn reality dating program is "A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila".  It is AWESOME!!  Of course, Hot Bobby rightfully ended is pseudorelationship with Tila and she shamelessly subjects people like myself to the debauchery that is her so-called love life, as she decides if she wants to be with a dude or a chick 4eva.  She is, according to Lewis Black, slightly less evil than the dictator of North Korea.  However, this show is emotionally very psychotic, as everyone is always crying, fighting, or destroying property.