Huff Away.

If you haven't heard of Arianna Huffington you are clearly not with it in the world we call the blogosphere.
The Huffington Post is an interesting blog...check it out if you haven't already.

But the story du jour is her new and 11th book 'On Becoming Fearless'. We were lucky to have Arianna do a quick stopover on her way to the Colbert Report yesterday afternoon. We being the place I work at we.

I have to admit when I first saw her (she walked right past me and I tried to smile but couldn't get over how much makeup she was wearing) I was quick to judge. And then when she started to talk in her super thick accent (Greek) I was not prepared to be impressed. But I was wrong. She's a smart cookie with plenty zeal and even though she quotes many French poets and authors, and shows off about her Cambridge education and all the fabulous things she did at 23...she deserves muchos kudos for being a smart, passionate and very intelligent woman. And she gave it to Colbert last night on his show. Put him in right in his place, smugness and everything. Colbert can be so annoying sometimes, detracting from his interviews just to have the last word or laugh and prove his superiority. Yawn.

I didn't get a free copy of the book, and even though it sounds mildly generic (loving mother imparting knowledge and secrets to becoming fearless to teenage daughters coupled with political fire) Arianna's delivery of the core elements of her book was compelling and often humourous.

In short:
-There's an annoying roommate in your head. Evict him/her. For Arianna, the roommate is Colbert. Go figure. I'm trying to keep this short people.
-Use common sense and some good old fashioned tools to combat your fears. Have a theme song that calms you, get plenty sleep (she had a lot to say about sleep depravation being a weakening agent) and employ a fearlessness 'tribe'-peeps that will be on your side unconditionally.
-Have a hero, an icon, a role model for fearlessness. Someone guts and glory. Preferably your mother.
-My favorite: We all have so many things we want to do in life. The best way of 'checking off' this to-do list is to accept that certain things just wont get done. Learning German, mastering ballet or becoming a painter, whatever it is just forget about it...focus on one passion and pursue it with all your heart. Omit the clutter in your head and create some space to focus on the good stuff.

Anyway gotta dash, Musharraf is appearing on my beloved Daily Show. I just can't believe it! Pervez and Jon heart to heart? In the seat of heat and everything! Oh boy, this will be interesting.

Extreme Giggles.

It's barely dropping below 60 degrees and already the toys are coming out in full force. Remastered nanos in many new colors (oh no wait there will be at least three new products released before December...Apple's strategy seems to be centered around making you feel bad and redundant for what you just bought. Sigh.) and "extreme" Elmo.
Extreme what?

That's right. The adorable red fuzzy guy who rakes in millions being tickled. Now that's what you call a beautiful life.

So some marketing guys sat around at the toy company and thought to themselves, how can we possibly make Tickle Me Elmo more exciting and sell more fuzzy red guys? Aaaah the brainwave. The outside-the-box thinking in full action.
We'll make him laugh harder. That's what we'll do. I mean real people don't just giggle cutely when they are tickled. They roll over, slap their thighs, pound their fists on the floor, double over. Genius. Make Elmo really laugh 'extreme'ly hard.

I can't get over the fact that they are actually naming the doll (sorry dude you're a guy and all but you're a doll) 'Tickle Me Extreme Elmo' aka TMX. Elmo. TMX sounds almost evil. The only thing extreme about this toy is going to be the extreme shortage during the holidays and crazy prices on eBay and the media hype that will follow. Eye roll. Ok, ok talk to me five years from now and I'll be one of those frantic parents with the frantic children screaming "mommy, mommy I have to have it."

Those marketing guys really knew what they were doing.

The new doll is in fact pretty darn hilarious. I recommend the easy way-watch a video of him 'cracking up' online. At first it's a little weird, especially when he's just standing and laughing hysterically (I don't think he should stand at all) but the minute he falls backwards and laughs -my favorite when he is on his tummy banging his head and hands on the floor, the thigh slapping is pretty funny too...you will find yourself smiling, laughing even. It takes a while to warm up to it.

I can see kids loving this obviously (and some being plain scared...how many toddlers have had a good hearty laugh like that before?) and what is cuter than kids giggling? Oh but if I were a mom I would go crazy listening to that laugh over and over again. We all know kids love repetition just like teens listening to JT on repeat mode. Yikes. Now that's extreme.
For us grown-ups, watching TMX Elmo reminds us of a time when we laughed like that and the memory makes us smile more than the robotic dancing doll...or not.

Good Device, Bad Device.

What good am I, if I can't talk about advertising!
Ok have you guys seen this website?
http://www.shaveeverywhere.com
This guy just cracks me up! Ooh maybe I shouldn't say cracks.

I saw an ad for Disney mobile flaunting their keep tabs on your kids via GPS feature. What are the poor children of today to do? Getting a cell phone is highly desirable but now your parents know where you are every second of the day? Shites. What happened to the days of loitering, skipping school and going to the movies instead? Now your mom can find out exactly which theatre you are at and show up there to not only throw your entire bucket of popcorn over your head but also ruin a perfectly high-potential date.

Sigh. I feel bad for today's kids. Their risk-taking abilities have been minimized and pretty much nullified by technology. I mean hey, you can say "my battery died"...but there are only so many times mom will buy that. They also have features called call control and family monitoring adding on all kinds of restrictions on who you talk to and how long you talk for.
Frankly I would not want that cell phone if I were a kid. In fact, I would pray to not get one..even write to Santa about it.

Isn't this a bad move for Disney? The NY Times quoted "Disney Phones has parents in mind"...ya-ha but at the cost of kids hating you for completely ruining their lives? I thought Disney was all about the kids. Traitors.

The Chimp & The Banana.

I tried to stay awake during Bush's speech last night. I really did.
I'm sorry but I only see a monkey face. I just can't take him seriously anymore (like since the last 5 years). So instead, I tried to focus on the photo frame behind him - a cutesy picture of his twin daughters Barbara and Jenna. But then I started thinking about them and their alcohol possession charges. Oh whatever! Who am I to judge? They're kids and kids party. Besides, if Bush was my dad, I would be drinking a lot.
See? Clearly distracted and not listening to the chimp. Oh did I say monkey before?

Speaking of chimps and monkeys (see how I love to connect topics?) what was the deal with Sharapova and the banana? Here is what she had to say:
"I believe, at the end of the day, personally, my life is not about a banana," Sharapova said Saturday night. "It's not about what I wear. It's not about the friends that I have. My career right now is about winning a tennis match. And right now, I'm sitting here as a U.S. Open champion, and the last thing I think people need to worry about is a banana."

We aren't worrying Sharry. We just don't want you doing any banana commercials or anything...you know like becoming the next Miss Chiquita banana. Based on your track record, we don't think you would be able to balance a fruit basket on your head (falling trophy tops come to mind.)

Oh Nike how we love thee. You made us all feel so pretty during the Open. And lucky for you, your pretty girl made it all the way to the finish line in first place in her pretty black dress (I was hoping for all-over sequins for the final...can't believe she repeated her outfit...oh sorry it's not about what she wears.)

Have you noticed more and more desi's (Indian/Paki..generally South Asian) showing up in ads? There were two in the So Pretty Nike ad! Out of the twenty people singing to Sharapova, two were Indian! That's a full 10%. And just to keep it balanced, one was a maid with a thick accent and one a hot tennis player. Nice.

Remembering.

As I write this post the second tower fell 5 years ago. 10:26 a.m.
Right here in our beloved city of New York.

The conductor announced "World Trade Center train" this morning, as he does every single morning of my commute to work, but today it made me queasy. I ride into Ground Zero every single morning as the Path train comes right into the site after crossing the river...but this morning was different. As different as the last 4 anniversaries of 9/11.

While getting ready for work, I watched the remembrance ceremonies on TV but 11 minutes later the remembrance was no longer simply a televised event. I could hear it, see it and breathe it.

As our train snaked into WTC, we could see throngs of officers, officials and people who had lost loved ones. The wives, the children, the mothers and fathers. The names of people who died on this tragic day were being read out. When I left home they were in the B's. When I reached WTC they were in the F's. I stood and watched, eyes welled with tears. Us Path train commuters probably had the closest public view to the ceremony.

This is all too real for us. This is not simply something awful you see on a screen. Every day as I head from the Path train to the NYC subway line -also in the World Trade Center, I pass a pillar with a sign that reads "these pillars are part of the original World Trade Center structure". Today I reached out and touched the pillar standing real and strong. Five years ago, this pillar was a nobody, nothing but a pillar whose sole purpose in life was to support something...today I want to hug it and cry. Today it supports my emotions. It bears so many memories and so much sorrow. Not a strong pillar but a pillar of strength.

One can never fully grasp the events that happened that day. No matter how many movies, documentaries and shows are made, there will always be brand new shock and horror, tears and anguish. I felt it all over again when I watched "9/11" on CBS last night. I just kept thinking..."I walk through this place every single day, I can't believe this is what happened here."

I don't know how I feel about CNN (Online) broadcasting the real news as it played that day - do we really need to re-live every single second of that day? Isn't walking through this gaping hole in the ground enough to bear? And why is the hole still a 70-foot-deep hole? The entire West side of the city can develop and bust out scores of high-rises in the last five years and we can't build anything to fill the void in the downtown skyline? A shrine for friends and family to visit? I don't want to ride into a dusty crater every morning. 10 feet high or a thousand feet high...we'll take anything.

Letter To Suri

Dear Suri,
Welcome to the world...cute little thing that you are. Not too many babies get a 22-page spread in Vanity Fair as their debutante appearance and have aunty Couric introduce them on national television.

The world couldn't wait to see you Suri...being the fruit of Tom's loins and all. In fact, 'people' made up lots of stories about you and your mommy and daddy because they couldn't see you and didn't know what you looked like. They needed to see your 10 little fingers and 10 chubby little toes to make sure you were normal and not an alien baby. They made up nasty stories about you and your mommy and daddy.

You are old enough to know your daddy is crazy but poor mommy...she didn't do anything wrong! ...Other than Dawson's Creek and some really bad acting in Batman Begins. She didn't even jump on Oprah's couch! But she did get knocked up by the best looking weirdo in the world.
You can't blame the media, Suri. Daddy was being a greedy man and asking for a lot of money for your photo especially because around the same time you were born, Angelina aunty and Brad uncle had pretty Shiloh who might be your friend when you grow up. We'll see.

Mommy's pissed at the media Suri. Of course you exist! You are a beautiful baby girl with black hair and papa's eyes. But hiding you from the world for almost five months wasn't the way to go. People are mean Suri.

They are trying to auction your poop on eBay even as I write this to you.

Mommy and daddy had to work hard to be famous (mommy - a little less hard) and they don't get that you aren't just another baby...you my little one are a celebrity at birth. The more they try to protect you, the more rumours will churn. Regular celebrities can get away with protecting their kids from the paparazzi for a little while but your papa refuses to be a regular celebrity.
Suri, I hope you grow up to be kind, wise and beautiful. You clearly won't need help with the latter.

Lots of Love,
Aunty Nams

I'm in Beta

Many of you have been complimenting the new look of my blog. Merci! This is all thanks to the new Blogger in Beta which is far more user-friendly.
There are still bugs they are working on fixing however, one being that you can't post or read comments -well you can but the link doesn't show up below my posts. Please click on the time and the 'post a comment' link should appear...retarded I know-but hopefully they (Google peeps) will fix it soon.

Jalebi's, Ball Girl Beauty Queen & "Agassi Agony"

It was so funny to see so many desi's at the U.S. Open! I guess we have an affinity for Tennis...more so than baseball or American football anyway. Besides, our sporting choices are limited here. Although can I just tell you that the other day I came across a cricket club in a rich suburb of Philly (The Philadelphia Cricket Club)! I was so surprised...and yes they actually play cricket there.
Anyway, I digress.

Oh the Open! It was such a great experience! I can't believe I've been in New York for five years now and I never made the trek out to the Arthur Ashe statium in Flushing, Queens. But the trek was worth every second of subway car sardinery. Hey I'm no Sporty Spice (although I did play some Tennis as a kid) but just being at the U.S. Open makes you feel part of the game! I could get used to this...feeling so sporty without even having to pick up a racket! Aaah the joy of spectator sports. And you could even buy Serena Williams' dress there. Fashion in sport...perfect!

We saw two really great matches, Williams Vs. Mauresmo, man to man. And Hewitt ("Ozzie, Ozzie, Ozzie, oye,oye,oye"...Aussie fans rock) versus dynamite Gasquet (hot little French boy.)
Speaking of hot and little, the ball girl in the men's round (the real men) was such a Sharapova in the making that the audience couldn't stop hooting and whistling at her...she was taken off court in the last set because she was quite the distraction! I always feel bad for the poor little ball boys and girls who work so hard for such little glory, but Miss ball girl USA 2006 was quite the star at yesterday's match. This is clearly becoming a phenomena as sponsors like Ralph Lauren "bring sexy back"...to the tennis courts. Why just Miss Sharapova?
(Ball) girls just wanna have fun too.
http://usopen.blogs.nytimes.com/?p=116

You the know the U.S. Open has a large Indian audience when there is a Baluchi's (Indian food chain) on campus. There I was in "Agassi-Agony", courtside at Ashe, eating my comfort food chicken tikka masala and jalebis...
That Agassi brings out the tear-factory in me.
Oh but there is hope...a quote from Agassi's coach: "Of course, we’ll always have Agassi II,’’ said the coach, Shay. “Have you seen his son hit a ball? Holy shit. His son can hit a ball, man.

Steve the Brave.

I'm shocked to read about the death of Steve Irwin this morning. Steve the crazy crocodile man, the Ozzie dude who exposed himself to the most dangerous animals and reptiles in the world, a modern day Crocodile Dundee.
Steve was filiming a documentary in the Great Barrier Reef and was struck fatally in the chest by a Stingray barb. Stingrays are big flat blobbish-looking ocean creatures known to be placid, harmless and sometimes even playful. Usually, only when provoked, they will shoot up their razor-sharp barb-tipped tails. These attacks are deadly but rarely result in actual death. The last time someone in Australia died from a stingray barb was in 1945.
It saddens me deeply, that a man who continuously played with his life in the face of the planet's most feared creatures, died under these bizarre circumstances. What are the chances of having a stingray barb pierce you right through the heart?
It just goes to show that no matter what you do with your life, destiny has a plan for you that no amount of crocodile-wrestling even can change. At least he died doing what he loved.
As much as I always squirmed and screamed, watching Steve on TV (with half my face hidden under the blanket or through fingers covering my eyes) was always an amazingly thrilling experience.
R.I.P. mate.

Unleashing The Driver in Me.

Living across the river from the most un-parking friendly city in the world has its benefits. You can actually own a car, park your car for less than $400 a month and even drive your car to fabulous destinations like the Cheesecake Factory and outlet malls-with more parking! Oh the joy of a car is truly felt on rainy days (and weeks) such as these.

Let's face it. People in Manhattan who own cars are the same ones with either very, very rich Jewish grandmothers or who wake up at 6 a.m. every morning to move the car they inherited during their college days, from one side of the street to the other-'tis the wonders of pre-8 a.m. street cleaning.

Once we acquired a car, I realized that I needed to re-acquire some driving skills. Getting a license was the easy part. Shocker of shockers, if you have an Indian driver's license, New Jersey pretty much hands you a state license. No driving test required. Yep, thats right. I only needed to pass the eye exam and written test (which I failed the first time round-why are there so many legal questions? Oh right. This is New Jersey.)
I just can't get over the fact that my itty-bitty pamphlet of an Indian driving license got me a plastic ticket to driving freedom! I mean you can practically make those things at home!

See, I learned to drive in Pune. That right there is a problem. Pune driving is unlike driving anywhere else in the world. Buffalos serve as stop signs, rickshaws and cyclists are your side view mirrors, because you have none (the buffalos would knock them off!) and roads are like moon craters. The key to Pune driving is to look straight ahead, avoid looking in the rear-view mirror at all times or some guy on a bike will think you like him, grab the shift stick with dear life and don't even think about hitting those brakes!

I loved every second of driving in Pune. Not always loving the actual driving, but loving the exploration and navigation of my world that was Pune. My home, my friends, my college, my grandmother's house, my Accounting classes, my bars, my clubs, my coffee shop...mapped out from one end of the city to the other. I practically lived out of my car.

The first thing that got to me when I started driving here in Jersey is how many rules and signs there are. I just wasn't used to looking in all these mirrors, looking out for all these signs and actually stopping at a red light. It's all so distracting. I mean how are you supposed to drive when there are like a hundred things to focus on? And don't even get me started on the Jersey Highways! The whole experience is so intimidating!

Once you get used to it though, it's not such a big deal. The first few months I was like an old Parsi aunty driving a Fiat but then I quickly realized driving in Jersey is not that different from driving in Pune minus the Buffalos of course. Oh there are equivalents of Buffalos here in Jersey but that aside, finally I am beginning to experience the pleasures of the wind in my hair, radio jammin' kind of driving, living it up till I have to succumb to the evils of mass transit Monday morning...