Yes I am in Americana these days. What might that be, you ask? It is the constant state of being surrounded by all things American. Food, music, movies and now the language.
It is July after all. The glorious month when the oh so glorious country brings out the barbeque grills to tuck into all forms of meat, guzzles on enormous amounts of beer and basks in the afterglow of fireworks and the usual revelry. Its Independence Day!
While I am sitting across continents and oceans on the other side of town, this heightened mood of Americana is taking over my life. In the form of hot dog food reviews, music cd's of the typical US pop scene, movies celebrating the American life and now, an office advisary saying 'We are going American'!
Oh, pray, yes! This is what my esteemed colleagues and I read first thing Friday morning in office. My entire newspaper is going American, we are putting on our stars and stripes people.
What does this mean? This means understanding a whole new way to write, this means setting the word documents auto-correction to the American grammar, this means lots of 'zees' and oh my lord, unlearning a whole lifetime of English and then relearning it again.
The directives come the next day, tacked up right in front of my work portal. We are back in elemantary English 101 again. So we learn, we re-write, we re-edit and then the flag flows in the opposite direction again...as the month of Americana ends and we enter the Chinese month of August, we are back to old ways. The big bosses have changed their minds once again. I loved Americana but viva Britannica!
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Monday, July 02, 2007
The Travelling Pants...
Women find shopping therapeutic. Women never have anything to wear. Women will shop for reasons other than the lack of a decent wardrobe. Women love to shop. Period.
All women know that and all men should understand that at the earliest.
So returning from a trip that maxed out my credit cards and landed me in a hell lot of trouble at Sydney's check-in counter...what with 15 kgs of extra baggage, you would think that I would've had my fill of retail therapy right? I thought so too. But, wrong!
Oh how I fought with the ground staff, pleaded and cajoled...all for a few extra pieces of clothing and accesories.
But then there I was, at home with a suitcase full of brand new goodies and what do I discover? I left my favourite pair of jeans in a hotel room in Gold Coast. The one that had been with me for 3 years...the one that accentuated what was good and hid what was not as good...the one that had travelled with me across the globe and lived to tell the tale...the one that was faded and scratched from said travelling but still holding on.
Now all fellow femmes would understand that is quite a tragic mishap. There is nothing quite as bad as losing your favourite denim. Its almost like you lose a friend. And now nothing is as good.
So what does one do? The best pal consoles me but with no avail. I need that denim again. I can't let go of it. Well she doesn't give up easily...and so, with her fully functional credit card and a determined stance, she drags me along to find a new fave denim. It won't happen I say. Never again.
After 3 hours of futile rummaging and window shopping...I have lost all hope. And then, quite suddenly I see it again. A pair quite similiar to mine and the best part, its spanking new. It fits, oh yes it fits perfectly. Goodbye old, hello new. Ah, all is good again.
P.S: This is me being completely vain as Im bored shitless, men will not understand this post but women will sympthasize with me :P
All women know that and all men should understand that at the earliest.
So returning from a trip that maxed out my credit cards and landed me in a hell lot of trouble at Sydney's check-in counter...what with 15 kgs of extra baggage, you would think that I would've had my fill of retail therapy right? I thought so too. But, wrong!
Oh how I fought with the ground staff, pleaded and cajoled...all for a few extra pieces of clothing and accesories.
But then there I was, at home with a suitcase full of brand new goodies and what do I discover? I left my favourite pair of jeans in a hotel room in Gold Coast. The one that had been with me for 3 years...the one that accentuated what was good and hid what was not as good...the one that had travelled with me across the globe and lived to tell the tale...the one that was faded and scratched from said travelling but still holding on.
Now all fellow femmes would understand that is quite a tragic mishap. There is nothing quite as bad as losing your favourite denim. Its almost like you lose a friend. And now nothing is as good.
So what does one do? The best pal consoles me but with no avail. I need that denim again. I can't let go of it. Well she doesn't give up easily...and so, with her fully functional credit card and a determined stance, she drags me along to find a new fave denim. It won't happen I say. Never again.
After 3 hours of futile rummaging and window shopping...I have lost all hope. And then, quite suddenly I see it again. A pair quite similiar to mine and the best part, its spanking new. It fits, oh yes it fits perfectly. Goodbye old, hello new. Ah, all is good again.
P.S: This is me being completely vain as Im bored shitless, men will not understand this post but women will sympthasize with me :P
Kiss The Cook
I think I've said this before but there is nothing sexier than a man who cooks. Now all you macho types out there who think it's a pansy activity, think again! Ask any girl and she'll agree with me. Infact I've been told of women who go out with a man just because he cooks...cooks well that is. It is almost sensual to watch, a man who knows how to put his hands to good use in the kitchen will in all probability be just as good in the other rooms of the house. Ahem, I wonder what you guys are thinking right now :P
Being a foodie by both passion and profession...a man who cooks works well for me. Especially since I'd rather eat than cook, not because I can't but simply because I am too lazy to cook. Plus, kiss the cook is something I've been meaning to do for a long time.
Let me put my feet up after work, hand me a glass of wine and I'll gladly dote on you while you manoeuvre your way through the culinary world. That is what my ideal evening should be. Now its a reality. And the man in question is cooking up a storm in my life, in every sense of the term. So if they say watch out for the calm before the storm...what do I watch out for when the storm is already gaining momentum?
Being a foodie by both passion and profession...a man who cooks works well for me. Especially since I'd rather eat than cook, not because I can't but simply because I am too lazy to cook. Plus, kiss the cook is something I've been meaning to do for a long time.
Let me put my feet up after work, hand me a glass of wine and I'll gladly dote on you while you manoeuvre your way through the culinary world. That is what my ideal evening should be. Now its a reality. And the man in question is cooking up a storm in my life, in every sense of the term. So if they say watch out for the calm before the storm...what do I watch out for when the storm is already gaining momentum?
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