This question keeps me up at night. I have pondered over it for years now, and can come up with few answers that can explain my lack of normalcy. The only reasonable explanation is that something happens to me when I'm in any situation that has anything to do with food, and that causes me to behave in ways that psychologists wouldn't really classify as "normal". But I have no answer to the root cause of this issue. Is it a forgotten childhood trauma? A genetic disorder? A chemical imbalance? I have no answer and I don't think even doctors would. Why do I bring this up today, you ask? Well, here's what happened this morning:
I had met one half of a seemingly wonderful couple on my flight to Spain a couple of weekends ago, and made plans to meet the two of them for brunch this afternoon. I woke up early enough to procrastinate about going to the gym, and ended up having two cookies to get over the guilt of said procrastination. I even got ready on time and ensured that my handbag matched my dress and shoes. But as every woman knows, changing handbags is a tricky business. It's extremely difficult to remember to transfer your ipod, work ID, loose change, makeup, book, and various other items to the new handbag. Something always is forgotten in the old handbag, and your life ceases to hold any meaning until the missing item has been safely transferred over.
Well, such a "life ceasing to hold any meaning" event happened with me this afternoon. I was going to a vegetarian buffet place for brunch, so thoughts of muesli and pudding and lentils and curry had infiltrated my head to a point where I couldn't even think straight. Everywhere I looked around, I saw curry and rice. This is why when I swapped bags, I thought the newer bag felt lighter than the older one, but chalked that up to the weight of the bag itself, so as not to let anything get in the way of my curry cravings. Well, imagine my embarrassment when it came time to pay and I realized that I had forgotten my...wallet! Yes, the light weight of my new handbag was due a missing wallet that was comfortably resting in my old handbag.
To say that I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole would be an understatement. To say that I wanted to be on Lost and go back in time would be more accurate. I had to shamefully ask my wonderful brunchmates to bail me out. And you know me, when I eat, I EAT. And this was buffet, where you stuff your plate with whatever you want and then weigh it at the counter. I repeat, it was a BUFFET. So my plate was stuffed. And I had to ask someone who I knew for approximately 3.5 minutes to pay for it. All because food was on my mind all morning and I had lost the ability to use my brain for any seemingly normal activities. My mates were kind enough to bail me out, but then I saw dessert. And I longingly kept staring at it. They asked me if I was up for coffee and some dessert. Mindful of the fact that I was literally penniless, I started to refuse. But my insincerity must have shown on my face, because they insisted that I join them for coffee and dessert and paid for that too. Being the fat@ass that I am, I had both. This a new low, even for me. Something must be done. I cannot continue to be an idiot wrapped in a moron for the rest of my life. Dessert was fabulous though. As was the cappuccino. I need help. Help!
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
Plans for the weekend...
include doing this:
and some more of this:
Somehow, somewhere, something went wrong in my move to Zurich - I have officially become a soccer, oops, a football addict. I can't go to bed until I know who's playing the next day, what are their chances, and until I have read all possible analysis on all the games that took place on that day. I have practically moved in at Razzia, a former movie theater that has been converted into a bar for all the games.
This week though, has been brutal. I have been at an off-site pretty much all week, so had no access to TV, and had to resort to receiving the score updates via texts. Anything to get my fix. I had sufficiently threatened enough people with dire consequences if they didn't respond to me and ended up having 3-4 people texting me the score at the same time. I even kept informing one of the Directors at the offsite of the Italy-Slovakia score, not realizing that he was Italian and thus ready to murder me with his eyes for continually bringing him bad news. Football - causing career suicides since 1872.
I'm really not sure how I'm going to recover from this addiction when the World Cup ends. This will be like trying to get over "LOST" all over again!
and some more of this:
Somehow, somewhere, something went wrong in my move to Zurich - I have officially become a soccer, oops, a football addict. I can't go to bed until I know who's playing the next day, what are their chances, and until I have read all possible analysis on all the games that took place on that day. I have practically moved in at Razzia, a former movie theater that has been converted into a bar for all the games.
This week though, has been brutal. I have been at an off-site pretty much all week, so had no access to TV, and had to resort to receiving the score updates via texts. Anything to get my fix. I had sufficiently threatened enough people with dire consequences if they didn't respond to me and ended up having 3-4 people texting me the score at the same time. I even kept informing one of the Directors at the offsite of the Italy-Slovakia score, not realizing that he was Italian and thus ready to murder me with his eyes for continually bringing him bad news. Football - causing career suicides since 1872.
I'm really not sure how I'm going to recover from this addiction when the World Cup ends. This will be like trying to get over "LOST" all over again!
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Family Time
Half of my family (that is my mom and my dad) are technologically challenged. This has been a chronic illness that they never really could get rid of. But, they are trying. My mom started using email and Word documents in the recent past - and my brother and I would get emails on a daily basis on how to save, how to delete, how to bring back the deleted copy, etc. The most recurring theme with emails was, "I wrote an email but Microsoft ate it so now I can't write another email bye."
My mom doesn't believe in punctuation when it comes to emails. According to her, it "gets in the way of the typing." Thanks to my nineteen year old cousin that she is BFF with, she recently discovered Facebook. I accidentally accepted her friend request(the technical challenges sometime trickle down to the next generation too), but she tried for a long time to get my brother to accept her as a friend without much luck. Finally, to stop the asking, he just went ahead and accepted her. She was ecstatic. As we all know, you aren't really a family until Facebook says so. Anyway, below is the email that she sent me to express her joy at my brother adding her on "face book":
jigu (me) dikshu(my brother) accepted me as a friend ,philosopher and guide --its amazing ---i mean on face book-- so now we can hang out in face book what are you doing
your loving ,caring and sharing mom
Now are we convinced that my insanity is hereditary?
My mom doesn't believe in punctuation when it comes to emails. According to her, it "gets in the way of the typing." Thanks to my nineteen year old cousin that she is BFF with, she recently discovered Facebook. I accidentally accepted her friend request(the technical challenges sometime trickle down to the next generation too), but she tried for a long time to get my brother to accept her as a friend without much luck. Finally, to stop the asking, he just went ahead and accepted her. She was ecstatic. As we all know, you aren't really a family until Facebook says so. Anyway, below is the email that she sent me to express her joy at my brother adding her on "face book":
jigu (me) dikshu(my brother) accepted me as a friend ,philosopher and guide --its amazing ---i mean on face book-- so now we can hang out in face book what are you doing
your loving ,caring and sharing mom
Now are we convinced that my insanity is hereditary?
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Take a break from your regularly scheduled programing...
...to talk about food. Tonight I had plans to meet up with a couple of friends, have dinner, and watch True Blood. The dinner part alone was enough to get me excited about the evening, but that in addition to being reunited with this and this sent excitement levels out of control.
In anticipation of Eggplant Parmigiana that was to be on the menu, I decided to prepare for it by working out at the gym for an hour and half and having a "light" lunch. I think I just need to go ahead and make peace with the fact that I'll never be one of those women who can have a "light meal" anytime, least of all on a Sunday. I survived on my light meal of toast, cereal, and fruits, until about 5:30pm, but on my way to my friends' place, my head was so full of cheese and pasta that hunger started humming. Pretty soon that hum turned into a buzz and the buzz turned into a sound worse than those vuvuzelas at the World Cup. I didn't think I could survive for another minute without some carbs and had to alter my travel plans to make an emergency pretzel stop on my way to the meetup.
I finally arrived to their place and wonderful and tantalizing smells of garlic and cheese welcomed me. I was again out of control with excitement and even offered to help out in the kitchen so as to be as close to the food as possible. Finally, after what seemed like eternity to me but was only a few minutes, we sat down for dinner and True Blood. To say that the Eggplant was delicious would be an understatement of the century. Everything about it - the sauce, the cheese, the actual breading, was perfect. The accompanying apple salad was also light enough to allow us to think that we were eating a healthy meal, but also delicious enough to not make us feel as if we were having salad. My hosts are truly wonderful cooks, I can't emphasize that enough. Between the food and Eric and Bill on True Blood, I had achieved Nirvana.
Now, normal people usually show up for dinner parties wearing jeans or a nice pair of pants. But when food is involved, I refuse to hold myself up to such standards set by society, and instead showed up in sweat pants so as to facilitate maximum possible eating. I'm just going to go ahead here and state that elastic pants are man's best invention. And judging by how much I ate, it was definitely a wise decision.
But as all good things come to an end, I had finally reached a point where I could eat no more. I had to eventually turn down a third serving that my head had promised my stomach. I also had to dig through all my will-power to make the toughest decision of the evning: turn down the offer to take away left-overs. It was a hard thing for me to do, and I thought about that decision the entire tram ride home, but when I stood on the weighing scale upon coming back and saw the numbers that it displayed, I knew it was the right decision.
But fear not, for I intend to make such dinners a regular occurrence. My friends don't know this yet, but I intend to fully integrate myself into their culinary activities. In fact, I'm off now to devise a strategy to do just that. I'll post a progress report on implementation of said strategy on a regular basis. Until then, Good night, and hope you had as wonderful a dinner this evening as I did!
In anticipation of Eggplant Parmigiana that was to be on the menu, I decided to prepare for it by working out at the gym for an hour and half and having a "light" lunch. I think I just need to go ahead and make peace with the fact that I'll never be one of those women who can have a "light meal" anytime, least of all on a Sunday. I survived on my light meal of toast, cereal, and fruits, until about 5:30pm, but on my way to my friends' place, my head was so full of cheese and pasta that hunger started humming. Pretty soon that hum turned into a buzz and the buzz turned into a sound worse than those vuvuzelas at the World Cup. I didn't think I could survive for another minute without some carbs and had to alter my travel plans to make an emergency pretzel stop on my way to the meetup.
I finally arrived to their place and wonderful and tantalizing smells of garlic and cheese welcomed me. I was again out of control with excitement and even offered to help out in the kitchen so as to be as close to the food as possible. Finally, after what seemed like eternity to me but was only a few minutes, we sat down for dinner and True Blood. To say that the Eggplant was delicious would be an understatement of the century. Everything about it - the sauce, the cheese, the actual breading, was perfect. The accompanying apple salad was also light enough to allow us to think that we were eating a healthy meal, but also delicious enough to not make us feel as if we were having salad. My hosts are truly wonderful cooks, I can't emphasize that enough. Between the food and Eric and Bill on True Blood, I had achieved Nirvana.
Now, normal people usually show up for dinner parties wearing jeans or a nice pair of pants. But when food is involved, I refuse to hold myself up to such standards set by society, and instead showed up in sweat pants so as to facilitate maximum possible eating. I'm just going to go ahead here and state that elastic pants are man's best invention. And judging by how much I ate, it was definitely a wise decision.
But as all good things come to an end, I had finally reached a point where I could eat no more. I had to eventually turn down a third serving that my head had promised my stomach. I also had to dig through all my will-power to make the toughest decision of the evning: turn down the offer to take away left-overs. It was a hard thing for me to do, and I thought about that decision the entire tram ride home, but when I stood on the weighing scale upon coming back and saw the numbers that it displayed, I knew it was the right decision.
But fear not, for I intend to make such dinners a regular occurrence. My friends don't know this yet, but I intend to fully integrate myself into their culinary activities. In fact, I'm off now to devise a strategy to do just that. I'll post a progress report on implementation of said strategy on a regular basis. Until then, Good night, and hope you had as wonderful a dinner this evening as I did!
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Madrid - Part 1
The night before I left for Madrid, we had a girls evening with a couple of friends, where one of my friends shared her story of how she met her husband. They met at the airport and ended up sitting next to each other in the airplane one afternoon eight years ago. I found this story to be incredibly romantic and decided to leave things to fate for my Madrid trip and didn't "preselect" my seat.
I was assigned a "center" seat - traditionally my least favorite seat, but I was so exhausted from being up the night before, and excited to see what fate had to offer that I didn't care. So I went to take my seat. To my left was a guy who was, well, let's just say not my type. So I eagerly awaited the arrival of the passenger to my right. And arrive he did. But before I looked at the face, I did what I always do, I checked the ring finger. And there was a ring. So that was the end of that. I closed my eyes and passed out on the entire flight to Madrid.
Now I don't know about you, but when a certain website, let's just call it liar.com, says that it's going to be 85 and sunny the entire time you are in Madrid, you tend to believe it. But if there's ever a time to learn from past mistakes, it's now. I had packed shorts and skirts, so imagine my shock and horror when I landed to find that it was 60F! And windy! So dash I did to Zara, cursing weather, oops, liar.com the entire way there, and bought an emergency jacket.
After the brother arrived from the Queen's land, we began our day of sightseeing. I had my three-ring binder with various permutations and combinations of all different things we could do, list of restaurants, bars, etc. My brother had a camera. And no desire to look at my binder. So, solely based on faith, off we went. We began the day at Plaza De Espana. It's a large square at the beginning of Gran Via, one of the busiest streets in Madrid. In the center is a monument to Spanish writer Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra. Here's what the Plaza looks like, on a cold, cloudy day:
We then passed Puerta Del Sol, one of the busiest squares right in the center of Madrid:
and took a long way to get to Plaza Mayor, mainly because men don't believe in things like admitting that we are lost or asking for directions. I finally took control and asked every other pedestrian on how to get to Plaza Mayor. We finally made it there:
The Plaza is one of the biggest squares in Madrid, with a varitey of restaurants, street musicians, painters, etc:
We had our first encounter with Tapas there and prayed for the weather to get warmer:
We then made our way to the Royal Palace and walked around the Palace grounds:
But then a combination of fatigue and laziness made us go back to the hotel for an hour nap, then ended up turning into a four hour sleep for me. But since I only had one lunch that day, I woke up starving. By then, it had also started to rain, so we just went to the closest bar for some paella and called it an early night. So what about the other three days? Were we equally lazy, or did we actually do all the touristy things that one ought to do in Madrid? Come back tomorrow to find out!
I was assigned a "center" seat - traditionally my least favorite seat, but I was so exhausted from being up the night before, and excited to see what fate had to offer that I didn't care. So I went to take my seat. To my left was a guy who was, well, let's just say not my type. So I eagerly awaited the arrival of the passenger to my right. And arrive he did. But before I looked at the face, I did what I always do, I checked the ring finger. And there was a ring. So that was the end of that. I closed my eyes and passed out on the entire flight to Madrid.
Now I don't know about you, but when a certain website, let's just call it liar.com, says that it's going to be 85 and sunny the entire time you are in Madrid, you tend to believe it. But if there's ever a time to learn from past mistakes, it's now. I had packed shorts and skirts, so imagine my shock and horror when I landed to find that it was 60F! And windy! So dash I did to Zara, cursing weather, oops, liar.com the entire way there, and bought an emergency jacket.
After the brother arrived from the Queen's land, we began our day of sightseeing. I had my three-ring binder with various permutations and combinations of all different things we could do, list of restaurants, bars, etc. My brother had a camera. And no desire to look at my binder. So, solely based on faith, off we went. We began the day at Plaza De Espana. It's a large square at the beginning of Gran Via, one of the busiest streets in Madrid. In the center is a monument to Spanish writer Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra. Here's what the Plaza looks like, on a cold, cloudy day:
We then passed Puerta Del Sol, one of the busiest squares right in the center of Madrid:
and took a long way to get to Plaza Mayor, mainly because men don't believe in things like admitting that we are lost or asking for directions. I finally took control and asked every other pedestrian on how to get to Plaza Mayor. We finally made it there:
The Plaza is one of the biggest squares in Madrid, with a varitey of restaurants, street musicians, painters, etc:
We had our first encounter with Tapas there and prayed for the weather to get warmer:
We then made our way to the Royal Palace and walked around the Palace grounds:
But then a combination of fatigue and laziness made us go back to the hotel for an hour nap, then ended up turning into a four hour sleep for me. But since I only had one lunch that day, I woke up starving. By then, it had also started to rain, so we just went to the closest bar for some paella and called it an early night. So what about the other three days? Were we equally lazy, or did we actually do all the touristy things that one ought to do in Madrid? Come back tomorrow to find out!
Thursday, June 17, 2010
This is all I have so far
I'm soaking in this whole World Cup thing, and the fever is indeed contagious! Being in Europe for the World Cup is a completely different experience - lives depend on teams winning. Switzerland won their opening game for the first time in fifty years, so to say that the country went a little nuts would be an understatement. I think I saw a few people crying on the corner of the street. I celebrated in my own way, by having my requisite two dinners, and topped them off with McDonalds french fries. This was my first foray into a McDonald since I left the U.S, so there was nostalgia and tears, I'm not gonna lie. I even hugged a statue of Ronald McDonald in joy.
Meanwhile, as I recover from my deep fried coma, here's a picture of Plaza Del Espana, the area where the brother and I stayed while in Madrid (one of the few non-food related pictures I managed to take on our first day there):
Now all I need is a day with 26 hours and the write up of the trip and more pictures will be immediately uploaded. Until then, I'm going to stop making any more promises. Guten Nacht!
Meanwhile, as I recover from my deep fried coma, here's a picture of Plaza Del Espana, the area where the brother and I stayed while in Madrid (one of the few non-food related pictures I managed to take on our first day there):
Now all I need is a day with 26 hours and the write up of the trip and more pictures will be immediately uploaded. Until then, I'm going to stop making any more promises. Guten Nacht!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Back from Madrid...
...but barely. The French air traffic controllers went on strike over the weekend because they were still upset about the last World Cup. As a result, all flights in Europe were delayed and didn't get back until well past midnight. And because I refuse to give in to peer pressure and behave like a normal person, I was up until 2am, finishing this wonderful book. So today I'm groggy, annoyed, internally fat from all the Tapas-eating that I indulged in, and only a quarter of my way through editing and fine-tuning the gazillion pictures I took. Since most of the pictures weren't of monuments or whatever but of all the different food we ate there, just looking at them is making me hungry, even though I'm back on my normal schedule of two dinners now.
I hope to be back later in the week with the first of several details about the trip, and with a few pictures that don't involve food. Also on a completely unrelated but still very important note, I can now give directions to people in German. But I still get confused between left, right, and straight, so I'm not sure I should be practicing this particular set of dialog on any unsuspecting tourists anytime soon...
I hope to be back later in the week with the first of several details about the trip, and with a few pictures that don't involve food. Also on a completely unrelated but still very important note, I can now give directions to people in German. But I still get confused between left, right, and straight, so I'm not sure I should be practicing this particular set of dialog on any unsuspecting tourists anytime soon...
Friday, June 11, 2010
Be back with fun stuff!
I'm off to Madrid for an extended weekend in search of something fun to post about that doesn't include fart stories, and hope to be back next week with fun, embarrassing stories and with an updated list of places where I have fallen so far. Enjoy the weekend! Oprima el ocho (that's the extent of my Spanish, so this should be fun ;-))!
Monday, June 7, 2010
Blessings in disguise
It's been over two months since I moved to Zurich. In those two months, I had email issues, login issues, and moronity issues. Since then, my email issues have been resolved. My login issues have been resolved. My moronity issues are still ongoing without any resolution in sight.
But until very recently, I was faced with a new crisis. My chair at work, ladies and gentlemen, had digestive issues. It would make a farting sound every time I sat, I moved around in my seat, and every time I got up. It had gotten so bad that I could only move from my present position after people around me either left to attend meetings or went on coffee breaks. One day, a cute guy came by to talk to my coworker, and he smiled at me. I smiled back, and my chair farted. I saw the look of horror on his face, but before I could explain, he fled. My chair was now costing me my reputation, my peace of mind, and my future social life.
A few months ago, I had tendinitis and required several weeks of physiotherapy and an ergonomic setup at work. My desk at Zurich didn't have an ergonomic setup, and being a Superwoman, I just assumed that I had defeated the evils of inflamed tendons once and for all. Unfortunately my Superwoman powers are nonexistent in Zurich, so the tendinitis started coming back with a vengeance.
Fortunately for my alter-ego, this meant I now needed an ergonomic setup at work, which meant it was time to retire the farting chair. I am now proud to proclaim that my brand new ergonomic chair is very healthy and has no digestive issues. It has also cured me of my tendinitis for now, and helped me in curtailing any future damage to my reputation. On the other hand, I tried to say "nice to meet you" to someone in German, but ended up saying "I set myself on fire." So maybe the damage to my reputation is unstoppable at this point..
But until very recently, I was faced with a new crisis. My chair at work, ladies and gentlemen, had digestive issues. It would make a farting sound every time I sat, I moved around in my seat, and every time I got up. It had gotten so bad that I could only move from my present position after people around me either left to attend meetings or went on coffee breaks. One day, a cute guy came by to talk to my coworker, and he smiled at me. I smiled back, and my chair farted. I saw the look of horror on his face, but before I could explain, he fled. My chair was now costing me my reputation, my peace of mind, and my future social life.
A few months ago, I had tendinitis and required several weeks of physiotherapy and an ergonomic setup at work. My desk at Zurich didn't have an ergonomic setup, and being a Superwoman, I just assumed that I had defeated the evils of inflamed tendons once and for all. Unfortunately my Superwoman powers are nonexistent in Zurich, so the tendinitis started coming back with a vengeance.
Fortunately for my alter-ego, this meant I now needed an ergonomic setup at work, which meant it was time to retire the farting chair. I am now proud to proclaim that my brand new ergonomic chair is very healthy and has no digestive issues. It has also cured me of my tendinitis for now, and helped me in curtailing any future damage to my reputation. On the other hand, I tried to say "nice to meet you" to someone in German, but ended up saying "I set myself on fire." So maybe the damage to my reputation is unstoppable at this point..
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
And now there's proof...
We all know how much I love food. Th love I feel is innocent and pure and unconditional. Just the other day, at a friend's birthday party dinner, everyone was making conversation while having dinner. But not me. I'm very committed to my one true love, so for the first twenty minutes, I was absolutely quiet and focused all my energy and dedication on the food. Only when I heard silence did I look up to realize that everyone at the table had stopped talking and were just watching me eat. But I don't let little things like being in public keep me apart from my true love. So even as everyone was staring at me with their mouths hanging open, I got up to take my thrid serving, acting as if nothing was wrong.
But, something tragic has now happened. My love of food, until now a public but undocumented matter, has now been caught on film! What was until now a private matter is now available for the whole world to see. Allow me to explain what happened: a few months ago, a couple of coworkers took me out to Ilili, a Mediterranean restaurant in New York, for my farewell lunch. We saw a film crew at the location but didn't really catch them filming anything, so just assumed that they were still setting the shoot up as we were having lunch. Little did I know that not only was the camera on, it was ON us. And it captured me inhaling the falafel like it was going out of business. Hey, I was hungry. So now anyone who takes a cab in NYC can watch this ad on Taxi TV:
Ilili commercial
The woman you see attacking the falafel at the 0:57 mark is yours truly. You can see how the purity of my love is tarnished by such imagery. This video makes me look like a glutton, instead of making me look like a food lover that I am. On the other hand, this video just adds to my up and coming movie career. If nothing, I can definitely play the role of Hungry Patron#3 in the next Spielberg movie. If this video doesn't get me my own trailer, I don't know what will.
But, something tragic has now happened. My love of food, until now a public but undocumented matter, has now been caught on film! What was until now a private matter is now available for the whole world to see. Allow me to explain what happened: a few months ago, a couple of coworkers took me out to Ilili, a Mediterranean restaurant in New York, for my farewell lunch. We saw a film crew at the location but didn't really catch them filming anything, so just assumed that they were still setting the shoot up as we were having lunch. Little did I know that not only was the camera on, it was ON us. And it captured me inhaling the falafel like it was going out of business. Hey, I was hungry. So now anyone who takes a cab in NYC can watch this ad on Taxi TV:
Ilili commercial
The woman you see attacking the falafel at the 0:57 mark is yours truly. You can see how the purity of my love is tarnished by such imagery. This video makes me look like a glutton, instead of making me look like a food lover that I am. On the other hand, this video just adds to my up and coming movie career. If nothing, I can definitely play the role of Hungry Patron#3 in the next Spielberg movie. If this video doesn't get me my own trailer, I don't know what will.
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