Here's to Feeling Good All The Time...

What's gotten into me?

2008-08-05T19:07:00.000-07:00

Posts on consecutive days? I think it was a combination of wanting to offset the previous post with something modestly informative/intelligent as well as being absolutely sickened when I read this. Sooooo, let me get this straight. We're in the middle of a recession here at home (I don't care what the GDP figures say - look around at the number of people looking for and not finding work, cutting back significantly on discretionary spending, etc., and it becomes painfully obvious that we're in a recession, as far as I define it). Meanwhile, over in Iraq, in addition to the thousands of American lives our country has sacrificed over there (not to mention countless more Iraqi civilian lives), we're apparently subsidizing their reconstruction. It would seem to make sense until you read this paragraph:

"Baghdad had a $29 billion budget surplus between 2005 to 2007.
With the price of crude roughly doubling in the past year, Iraq's
surplus for 2008 is expected to run between $38 billion and $50
billion, according to a report from the U.S. Government
Accountability Office."

So, while we at home are facing an increasingly difficult job market (I know this firsthand) and rising costs for everything from gas to groceries, the Iraqis are pocketing their chips like a risk-averse Indian who's up a few hundo at the blackjack table (how long before they create a sovereign wealth fund to bail out Merrill Lynch, Citigroup, or [insert troubled bank here]?).

I wanted to do some quick math to see what this money could mean for the average American. I found this pretty cool population clock on the Census Bureau's website, which at the time I'm writing this stands at 304,792,083. To be conservative, I assumed the low end for the 2008 Iraqi budget surplus - $38 billion, and furthermore cut the whole $67 billion in half, since I figure given their volatile history, it probably makes sense for the Iraqis to build up at least a little war chest (poor choice of words). So that gets you to $33.5 billion, or $109.91 for each and every American man, woman and child, or about $440 for a family of four. That's a lot of gum! Or gas, or Goose, or greens' fees or whatever. Whoever wins in November, PLEASE fix this quickly.

“Pura Vida”…

2008-08-04T19:30:00.000-07:00

…is kinduva national motto for Costa Rica, from where I returned late Sunday night after about 6 days in all parts of the beautiful country. It translates rather cleanly to “pure life.” In summary, no two words could be a poorer description of how my friends and I spent our time there. But I’m not gonna expand too much on that. Too many of the guys on the trip have girlfriends, fiancées, or potentially future political careers to protect (1 out of 3 for me – not too bad).

While for me the trip was largely a way to just spend unemployment in a different country, the trip represented a final hoorah for many of the others. Poo/Amit is moving back home to Cleveland, Anuj back home to Boston. PB/Vishal #1 is off to business school at Dartmouth. Alvin is off to relationship school (marriage) next summer. A non-pura vida was definitely in order.

After weeks of planning (with all the different options and only 6 full days, I’d say Costa Rica is definitely difficult to plan for), I arrived in San Jose late Monday morning after a layover in Miami. Early on, everything went smoothly. No passport issues. American Airlines didn’t lose my bag. And perhaps most surprisingly, I was able to find Anuj waiting for me at the airport rather easily, having already hired a taxi to take us to our first stop, Arenal. After several hours of a sometimes-bumpy, sometimes-scenic drive (very characteristic of the entire country), we finally made it. I started with a traditional lunch of arroz con pollo, along with the dominant national brew, Imperial (quite good) and then we hit the pool to start handling the handle of Skyy I brought with me.

A few hours later, after a little swimming and a lot of vodka, Fake/Neil/Vishal #2, Thug/Sameer and PB returned from their daytrip and we made plans to finally hit the town. Only there isn’t much of a town in Arenal to hit. The main attraction of the city (and perhaps the country) is the sometimes-active volcano, but Monday night was too cloudy to get a good look, so we bypassed that option. So we went into “downtown” Arenal, stopped at a zapateria to buy some watershoes that would be needed later, stopped at a bank so Sameer could lose his ATM card, and finally had dinner at one of the few spots that was still open at the time. (Note to future visitors to Costa Rica: Except maybe in more-touristy Tamarindo, most restaurants close pretty early.) We then looked for a bar to go drink at, but the only one we could find was packed to the brim with older, native Costa Ricans who looked at us funny. Not the funny looks we get from our girlfriends after inappropriate comments or from non-girlfriends after inappropriate advances. But the “this is our bar, and you don’t belong” funny looks. Despite the language barriers, this message came across clear, so we bounced within 5 minutes and proceeded to head back to the hotel to drink until 3:30 in the morning. It was actually one of the most interesting nights of drinking I’ve had in my entire life, partly due to the fact that I hadn’t drank with these guys in quite some time, but more due to the content of the conversations. While the four of us (PB doesn’t drink) polished off a bottle of Glenfiddich and a fair amount of hookah and vodka, we discussed politics, economics, the pros and cons of a progressive tax system and philosophy (the concept of luck vs. karma vs. destiny) for several hours on the porch. Good times all around. The only downside was that our hotel (do NOT stay at the Arenal Springs Resort) was so poorly lit that I admittedly was scared to go on ice runs by myself – thanks Sameer.

The next day, Tuesday, was action-packed. We started with white water rafting, which was awesome. Some of you might know that I’m scared shitless of natural bodies of water, so I was definitely a little nervous, especially when you throw in the concept of large, jagged rocks. But since I was so busy paddling and focused on keeping my feet secure so I wouldn’t fall off the raft, I really didn’t have time to think about being scared. It was an incredible experience and I would definitely recommend it to anyone who visits Costa Rica, especially rafting beginners (Anuj had been rafting several times and was apparently incredibly bored). The highlight was the fresh fruit they cut up for us as a snack – honestly the best pineapple I’ve ever had in my life and probably the best meal I had all trip. The lowlight was when we couldn’t maneuver the raft away from a series of rocks on one side of the river, one of which hit me rather hard in my helmet-protected noggin. Ouch.

After rafting and some lunch, we hit up the hot springs at the Baldi hotel. Think of a water park, only instead of rides, the park is full of a series of hot Jacuzzis. Considering how cold and soaked we got rafting (from both the river water and the pouring rain that day), we couldn’t have timed the trip to the hot springs better. Otherwise, it probably wasn’t worth the $28 admission fee, to be honest. After returning to the hotel, we hopped on a shuttle to head to the volcano viewing site, and were lucky enough to see some mini-eruptions (that’s what she said), complete with a good amount of bright-red molten rock. At least we assumed it was molten rock, since we didn’t think actual lava could flow down the mountain as fast as it was. Apparently 70% of visitors to Arenal don’t get to see the eruptions, because of the constant cloudiness, so we considered ourselves quite lucky. Anuj thought we were “destined” to see the volcano erupt, but I still think it was more luck than anything.

Wednesday was a travel day, as we were headed to Monteverde. We woke up early, and then took an amazing water taxi ride for like 45 minutes. Very scenic. We were met on the other side of the river (or giant lake? I don’t really know) by yet another shuttle who took us on a long, bumpy, slightly nauseating ride to our hotel. Fortunately I was luckier than Neil, who astonishingly was able to fall asleep on the ride, only to wake up to a particularly large bump, where he bit the inside of his lip and chipped his tooth to boot. Ouch.

The rest of Wednesday was a little disappointing. Since it was thunderstorming, we didn’t feel like adventuring into the “city” to one of the local restaurants, so we just ate at the hotel restaurant. Having already eaten a lot of seafood and other local dishes, I decided to mix it up a little and see what Costa Rican pizza was like. Bad move. After waiting literally like 55 minutes for our pizza, it was all-in-all one of the worst pizzas I’ve had in my life. The shot of Patron we had as an appetizer didn’t make it taste any better. Then, to make things worst, Alvin and Poo finally arrived. Just kidding fellas, just kidding. In the evening, we decided to do a nightwalk through the rain forest, which basically consisted of us paying $17 each to walk through the pitch black forest for a couple loooong hours, seeing some bats, a pretty cool tarantula, a tiny frog, and a bunch of insects. This is what everyone argues over whether to protect or not? We then went back to the hotel for another low-key dinner at the bar/lounge and a couple hours of drinking and hookah on the porch of one of the hotel rooms. We kept it tame, as we had some more early morning adventures planned for Thursday.

Thursday was probably the best day of the trip, from beginning to end. We started with a morning walk through the rainforest, which was infinitely more enjoyable than the nightwalk. We saw some birds (surprisingly not nearly as many different kinds of birds as I had expected in a rainforest), some owls, more insects, some other animals I can’t recall off the top of my head, and we even had a chance to climb up the inside of a hollow tree, which was really cool. Oh yeah, and a millipede poo’d on Poo’s hand.

Following the walk was the peak of the trip – ziplining. Just like with the rafting, I thought I’d be scared shitless ziplining at rapid speeds over the Costa Rican rainforest. Again, I surprised myself and thoroughly enjoyed all of the ziplines. The only thing that kinda sucked was on the slower ziplines, if you’re not very careful about your technique, you run the risk of slowing down and even stopping mid-line. On one occasion I did in fact stop and had to be helped to the other side of the platform, which was kinda embarrassing. On the final zipline (which was the most amazing since it was high up, basically in the clouds, and it happened to be drizzling at the time which added a cool effect), while I didn’t stop, I was so worried about stopping that I didn’t enjoy it as much. Plus the wind kept spinning me around so I was going backwards half the time. Still, it was an amazing experience, to be topped only by the Tarzan Swing, which is basically exactly what it sounds like. They harness you to a long rope, tell you to hold on tight and keep your legs up and crossed, and push you off the platform. Pretty scary since you come extremely close to the ground, and then on the way up, you come extremely close to just swinging your way right into a tree (which is the way Tarzan himself would want it, I guess). But just amazing, and a great way to quickly overcome a fear of heights if you have one.

After ziplining, we headed back to the hotel, from where we had yet another shuttle ride, this time about 4 hours to Tamarindo, a tourist-popular beach city on the western edge of Costa Rica. Thursday night we explored the best (and worst) of Tamarindo nightlife. Upscale hotel dinner, then a couple local bars in the central area of the city, and finally Aqua, the “club” of Tamarindo where you pay a $7 cover on Thursday nights but then get to enjoy 25 cent draft beers all night. Needless to say, Thursday night was messy, highlighted by Anuj’s unfortunate excursion to the beach. By the way, in a sidenote, major props to PB – I don’t know how you have the willpower/patience to stay out with us 6 drunken idiots until 4am.

On Friday, after FINALLY being able to sleep in, we headed to the beaches of Tamarindo. Only there really isn’t a “beach”, at least as far as we could tell. Just a large body of water (the Pacific Ocean) separated from bars/restaurants/hotels by, at most, 30-40 feet of sand. And no topless women either. Some “beach”, right? Finally we found an American who told us that Playa Grande was the best beach in Tamarindo, so we headed over there, which required a solid 15 minute trek across sand and through 3-4 feet deep water, then a $7, 45 second water taxi ride. On the other side was a minimally better beach that was by no means worth the effort it took to get there. But we were already there, so we enjoyed it to the best of our abilities, swimming (or mostly standing) in the pleasantly warm water, with several of the guys (not me) calling the ocean a whore and other mean names because its waves weren’t challenging enough. Keeping it sophisticated.

After a few hours of souvenir shopping, napping, a Pizza Hut dinner that Anuj and Fake couldn’t stop bitching about and pre-gaming, we headed to our hotel bar, The Monkey Bar, which is one of the local hotspots on Friday night. At first we went Guju. Since we had 4-5 bottles of liquor still remaining, for the first half hour or 45 minutes, we walked back and forth to the hotel room to refill drinks. But then it got too crowded, it started pouring, and we became too drunk to care anymore, so we gave up on that plan (and have A LOT of alcohol left over to show for it). After a little while, things started to turn south, as one of us (not me) pissed off a local weed dealer, and two others started arguing about God knows what. I guess that’s what happens when you throw 7 guys together in a foreign country for a week with no girlfriends and no “alone time.” So we realized destiny (or luck) said we shouldn’t be at Monkey Bar, so we headed back to Aqua for what somehow turned out to be an even drunker night than Thursday night. We closed the night with some chicken kabobs from a street vendor, quite a bit of gay wrestling back in the hotel room and some more drunken intra-group squabbling. Fortunately I assigned myself the task of being photographer for the night, so I was too busy to partake in the events you see below. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

At this point, this posting is already REALLY long, so I’ll wrap it up pretty quickly (that’s what he said). Saturday afternoon, our flight to San Jose was cancelled, so we scrambled to hire – yes, ANOTHER shuttle to take us. It was a 5+ hour trip, highlighted by us walking with our luggage across a bridge that for some reason or another could handle plenty of people and luggage, but not any cars whatsoever. We spent Saturday night eating at the hotel, and then partaking in some low-key San Jose nightlife. We had to calm down eventually.

Pura vida? No comprendo.

Volcano Shot from our Hotel Room:

A couple sweet Volcano shots from Anuj's camera:

Rafting:

View from Water Taxi:

Worst Pizza EVER (yes we still ate a good amount of it):

Another Round of Imperial for Me and My Friends!

Ziplining:

The Tarzan Swing:

A picture is worth 1000 words. Or just 1: "Pu$$y"

Partying at Aqua, in Tamarindo:

Go Anuj! (or not)

Free Alcohol!

Bartenders at Aqua:

This might explain my Saturday hangover:

Gay Time:

It's Baseball Season!

2008-05-20T08:59:00.000-07:00

Well, as anyone who reads my blog knows by now, the Hornets' "magical" season came to an end about 13 hours ago. I'm not quite sure if it's totally hit me yet, as several scotches has a way of numbing your mind and body to everything occurring around you. I'm not gonna dwell on what "could have been." No, I'm not gonna sit here and write about Bonzi Wells' missed layup and all-around horrendous play during the series. Or the fact that David West (who I still love and respect) missed SO MANY makeable shots in the 2nd half last night. Or CP3's missed Free Throws. Or Jannero Pargo's playing 1-on-5 over the last several minutes of the game, refusing to even look for his two All-Star teammates, instead jacking up whatever shot he saw. No, I'm not gonna sit here and write about all that.

Throughout the regular season, which was a surprisingly strong one for my Hornets, I repeatedly told several friends that I'd be "happy" with a playoff berth and winning 1 series. Such is the nature of the NBA. Teams sort of have to pay their dues, building experience and camaraderie before being able to make the jump to "championship caliber." So, from that perspective, I should be happy, like I said I would be. But then I see the Phoenix Suns and Dallas Mavericks - two teams who slowly climbed the ladder to be in the position of "championship contenders", only to never have done it. Now, their windows appear to be closed. While the Hornets' best players - CP3, David West and Tyson Chandler are all relatively young, healthy and under contract for the immediate future, the hard fact remains that there is absolutely no guarantee of future success. Only time will tell.

All in all, I'm holding up relatively well. In the waning minutes of the game last night, when the verdict was sealed, a picture of my nephew Dilen popped up on my screensaver, which helped put things in perspective. Overall, life is pretty good. I live in LA, have great friends/family, a beautiful niece and nephew who I get to spend a lot of time with, and an amazing girlfriend who came over after the game to buy me dinner and generally distract me from what had just happened. In less than a month, I (knock on wood) will have a Master's Degree (Business or not - a Master's is a Master's) and, eventually, I hope, a high-paying job. Or some sort of job, anyways.

Also, I've realized over the last couple weeks that one of the major reasons I've become increasingly obsessed with the success (or lack thereof) of my favorite sports teams is the fact that I spend so much more time following them, mainly because of the Internet. So for the last week or so, I've tried to cut back a little bit, staying away from the Hornets' blogs and not obsessively watching all the SportsCenter analysis. Today, I'm giving myself the true test. No ESPN, no espn.com, no ESPN Radio. Nothing. Honestly, I can't remember the last time I went 24+ hours without any access to sports information, as even when I travel I usually surf the web for at least 15 minutes a day to check scores. I'll admittedly probably cheat and ask someone about the Mets (they play a pretty big doubleheader against the Braves today), but other than that, this will truly test whether I am master of my domain.

Moving on, it's now officially time to come on out and greet the Mets!

UPDATE #1: I've made it to 5pm. No ESPN, no ESPN Radio, no espn.com. Nada. But I'm struggling. Not sure I'll make it.

UPDATE #2: I pretty much made it. 630am on Wednesday. I got some auto text/email alerts from sportsline.com, some people in class talking about the Bulls winning the draft lottery and some unintentional/unwanted ESPN coverage of Game 1 of the Eastern Conference Finals. But other than that, nothing. There was a little vomiting and a lot of sweating, but I made it. Now, I've got some catching up to do.

I lasted 10 days

2008-05-09T17:06:00.000-07:00

I tried to hold out for a while longer. A big Game 1 win over the Spurs, and I resisted temptations to write about my excitement. A 2-0 lead? I refrained. But then I saw this old SportsCenter Flashback and I couldn't help but post. I'm, as anyone who knows me already knows, a relatively emotionless guy who most of you assume is made of skin, bones, and vodka, with no heart whatsoever. But I've watched this clip twice now, and both times found myself tearing up a little with about a minute left in the video. Whether or not you appreciate CP3 for his ridiculous game (how can you not? seriously), you gotta love this story. Go Hornets!

I interrupt this CP3 lovefest...

2008-05-07T08:08:00.000-07:00

for this, which I found pretty funny. For lazy people who don't like clicking links or, you know, reading, the gist is that, due to rapidly increasing metal prices, it now costs around 1.26 cents to make a penny, and 7.7 cents to make a nickel. Hmmm. Given my (continued) unemployment, I'm wondering if there's a way to take all the nickels and pennies I have lying around my apartment and profiting from this somehow.

The Season Continues

2008-04-29T19:18:00.000-07:00

No, no, no. This isn't turning into a Hornets' blog. If you want one of those, which I'm sure none of you do, go here for a really good one. But I figure I gotta blog about something. I haven't traveled anywhere in a while (Hawaii doesn't count since all I did was watch basketball, eat heavily and drink even more heavily - three things I could have done just as easily and less expensively from the comfort of my own home). I'm frankly pretty sick of the Democratic primary process. And, at 28 and still looking for a job, I probably shouldn't be putting in public media my drunken party tales. So, for now, it's all about the Hornets.

What a day for my Bugs. This morning, Byron Scott was presented with the NBA Coach of the Year award. I've been hard on (ha-ha) Byron all season, including yelling loudly at him at a Hornets-Clippers game in January for inexplicably playing ex-Hornet Marcus Vinicius, but he's starting to grow on me, and I think he legitimately deserved the award. Just like I think CP3 deserves the MVP. Which he ain't gonna get, but whatevers.

Several hours later, above was the scene in NOLA. David West and Tyson Chandler hugging it out (bitch) after the Hornets quickly and pretty easily disposed of the Dallas Mavericks in 5 games (I called 6 - very happy to have been wrong on that). Next up are either the Spurs or the Suns, preferably, but unlikely, the Suns.

Below: LOSER!!!

Only The Beginning...

2008-04-18T15:12:00.001-07:00

The NBA Playoffs start tomorrow, and I can't even describe how excited I am. So excited that I'm gonna sit and watch American Gangster at home on a beautiful Friday afternoon because I know my next 2 months or so are completely occupied with basketball (and, to a much, much smaller extent, trying to find a job).

The above image, if the words on the t-shirts aren't clear, is of MY New Orleans Hornets celebrating their first ever Southwest Division title, after completing a franchise-best 56-26 season (unfortunately they only went 1-1 in the games I actually went to...damn Lakers and their quick starts). We get Dallas in the first round, and tomorrow begins the "CP3 dominates in the postseason" era. I'm so pumped for the game that I'm actually voluntarily spending several extra hours with Atur, just to ensure I get to San Diego in time for the 4pm tipoff. That's dedication.

Frankly, I'm glad all the "experts" are picking the Mavericks. All the pressure is off. CP3, David West, Tyson, Peja, JuJu and the rest of the Bugs can just go out and do their thing. Hornets in 6.

Is it wrong that I found this kinda funny?

2008-04-11T07:58:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry. But I couldn't help but laugh a little when I read this.

Self-Defense for All Guys (Except Me)

2008-04-02T18:51:00.000-07:00

I encourage you all to print a copy of this and carry it with you at all times.

Sports Meets Politics

2008-02-29T17:23:00.001-08:00

Don't worry. I don't care enough about baseball, Roger Clemens, Barry Bonds, etc. to write about the steroids scandal being hotly pursued (at taxpayer expense) by the U.S. Congress.

Instead, this is about U.S. basketball, specifically the Olympic team. I was listening to an espn.com podcast that included an interview with Chris Sheridan, an ESPN NBA analyst who is their leading contributor when it comes to Team USA. He was discussing the three major concerns that the guy running Team USA has right now as we head into the Summer Games in Beijing - 1) Kobe's pinky (makes sense), 2) the fatigue factor (given most top NBA players play a pretty grueling schedule well into April, May and even June, this makes sense too), and 3) money. WTF?! This came as a complete shock to me.

I'm no expert on Olympic sports and how they're funded, but I always assumed that they were entirely funded by the federal government. I can't be the only one that thought this, right? Where else can our 30+% be going? OK, that's an entirely different debate.

I haven't bothered to do the research, but I'm now figuring the basketball team is sort of self-funded (through ticket/merchandise sales) with contributions from the government and private sources. Seems kind of ridiculous.

What really bothered me, though, was when Sheridan pointed out that Team USA was considering playing an additional exhibition game in Taiwan during the summer, pre-Olympics, to raise some cold, hard yuan. The issue with this, of course, is that this only adds to the fatigue concerns. While one exhibition game in Taiwan might not seem like a big deal, Sheridan noted that it's not that simple, including the fact that it involves a non-direct flight through Hong Kong. We all know how tiring stop-and-go travel can be when all you're doing is sitting in front of a computer or lying on the beach. These guys have to play ball, make media appearances, etc., etc.

What it all comes down to is competition. As anyone who has followed Team USA basketball since they started using professional players in Barcelona '92, the team has seen much better days, and international competition is only getting better. Now our players, representing you and I and every other American in the biggest, most-publicized international competition in sports, are under-funded and over-worked? Explain to me how we have billions upon billions to support an endless, fruitless war (not to mention millions, or at least hundreds of thousands, to investigate steroids in baseball), but we can't come up with cash to ensure our Olympic basketball team can compete at the highest level. How much can it cost to fly these guys around in a charter plane, house and feed them and their wives and maybe even some of their entourage for a couple months? To sew up and wash some shorts and jerseys? To hire some translators to make sure they know what they're ordering at the local KFC?

Absolutely fucking ridiculous.

Go Team USA!

Theoretical Debate

2008-02-10T20:30:00.000-08:00

As I sit here on Sunday night, sober for the first time at 8:30pm on a Sunday since probably sometime in 2007, I'm left wondering - does "not getting wasted" count as an accomplishment for the day?

For the Record

2008-02-08T15:03:00.000-08:00

You all know by now that Shaq has been traded for Shawn Marion. You've all read the mostly negative comments that the analysts have made regarding the Suns' side of the trade. I was the first guy on that bandwagon. Within minutes of reading about the trade, I was google-chatting with a friend and compared this trade to the earlier trades of Kevin Garnett to the Celtics for Al Jefferson and change, and the trade of Pau Gasol to the Lakers for just the change. Below is a part of that chat transcript:

10:24 PM rishi: NBA execs are retarded
me: this one is beyond retarded
rishi: Wade must be ecstatic
me: the gasol and KG deals were at least somewhat defensible

So, clearly, I had a strong initial opinion on the trade, and it wasn't positive on the Suns or The Big Diesel.

Over the last couple of days though, I've heard A LOT of interviews with analysts, the Suns' coach, the Suns' GM, and, of course, I watched parts of Shaq's introductory press conference. And now, I'm singin a different tune.

For the record: Phoenix WILL win an NBA championship in the next two years.

Why? Call it a gut feeling. For anyone that follows the NBA, I obviously have no "fundamental" reason to think this was a good trade for the Suns. It can't be argued - right now, Shawn Marion is a better basketball player than Shaq. How, then, can I make such a crazy prediction?

Two words - chemistry and motivation.

Though everyone publicly denies it, there's been no doubt that Marion and Amare Stoudamire dislike/hate/don't get along with each other. Amare is gonna play like he's never played before (and will DOMINATE opposing PFs in the 20 or so minutes a game that Shaq plays). And, on motivation, well, we've seen what a hungry Shaq can do (a la, helping D-Wade lead Miami to a title just 2 years ago). Call me crazy, but I think the opportunity to prove all the critics wrong, the opportunity to maybe go against Kobe and/or arch-nemesis Tim Duncan in the playoffs - all those opportunities will motivate Shaq to stay in shape enough to at least contribute 20-25 minutes a game when it counts. Throw in a still top-flight PG in Steve Nash, a healthy, pumped-up Amare Stoudamire, and spare parts such as Leandro Barbosa, Grant Hill and Boris Diaw, and the result: your 2007-2008 (or 2008-2009) NBA Champion Phoenix Suns!

Note: If they lose to CP3 and my Hornets in the playoffs, I will be happy. My prediction will be wrong, and I'll eat the proverbial crow. But of course, I'll be happy.

The Issues

2008-01-30T18:08:00.000-08:00

With the primaries in California, New York, and a whole bunch of other states coming up, I found it timely that I happened to stumble upon this on cnn.com. See how all the candidates stack up on the major issues. Don't just vote for Obama because you're black or for Hillary because you have boobs. And God forbid, please...PLEASE...don't vote for John McCain.

Weekend Recap

2008-01-28T19:54:00.000-08:00

It’s been a while since I blogged a weekend recap. Since I haven’t blogged in general in a while, and since the weekend had some fun highlights, I figured today was an opportune time to bring back the Weekend Recap. To be clear, I’ll define “weekend” as the traditional Friday evening – Sunday evening stretch. As compared to my current weekends, which start on Wednesdays at 2:30 p.m. this quarter.

The weekend started out innocently enough. At around 5 p.m., I curled up in my warm bed to watch my Hornets take on the local JV squad, the Clippers. Since it was Friday night after all, I decided I needed a Scotch. Then a 2nd Scotch. When the two Scotches hit me harder and quicker than I expected, I decided I needed a shower and a meal. Unfortunately, only a few minutes after said meal, I decided to meet Seema, Ena, Anuj, Vijay and some others at Father’s Office. For non LA-ers, Father’s Office (supposedly) makes one helluva burger, which I’ve still yet to try because the place tends to be really crowded. So I limited myself to munching on some fries and having a couple beers – a pretty good White beer whose name I’m forgetting at the moment, and an Arrogant Bastard (had to try it because of the name) – a bitter, non-enjoyable Guinness-like beer. Anyways, the night was tame and I was home sleeping by 1ish. Like I said, the weekend started out innocently enough.

Fast forward to Saturday night. Terence was in town for his annual LA birthday celebration, which was fortunately taking place at Zanzibar, a small lounge a block and a half away from my apartment. I invited Terence and his entourage over to my place for some pre-gaming, where everyone proceeded to pound 2-3 drinks pretty quickly. It would be a sign of things to come for the next 24 or so hours. After the pre-game, we scurried over to Zanzibar through the pouring rain (seriously), and I was thankful to have had a few drinks in my system. I was not thankful that I only brought a broken umbrella to shelter me. Anyways, the night continued pretty much as expected. Waited in line for too long to get in. Waited too long at the bar to order drinks. Ran up too high a bar tab. Drank too much. Fortunately, I think we all got Terence sufficiently drunk, as the word-slurring, more-cursing-than-usual drunk Terence showed up not too long after he got there. Happy birthday bud.

After taking a cab home 1 ½ blocks (seriously – it was POURING) I stumbled into bed already looking forward to Sunday, as a handful of us had pre-planned that wonderful Sunday tradition – Brunch. When I woke up in the morning, the excitement (and fear, to some extent) built up as I saw I had a text from Kush – at 3:30 a.m. – confirming the brunch plans. Game on.

At a little after 1, we showed up at Belmont Cafe. The hype around the Belmont had been building for a couple weeks. Apparently, I had been informed by Seema, Kush, and other Belmont non-virgins, they have a do-it-yourself Bloody Mary bar. Wtf? What they do, basically, is give you a tall glass full of ice and the Vodka of your choice (I started with Skyy, which IMO is good enough for the purposes of a Bloody Mary, but once Anuj and Kush started ordering Goose, I figured I was paying for Goose indirectly so I might as well step it up myself). Then, at the bar, they have all the typical Bloody Mary fixings – a couple different types of Bloody Mary mix, Tabasco sauce (red and green), Worcestershire sauce, horseradish, all sorts of different olives, etc. They also offer a wide variety of non-traditional fixings. Chalula, chili powder, A1, Slim Jims (as a substitute for celery), etc. I’m not gonna lie. At first I was quite intimidated. After Seema helped me make my first one though, I had the confidence of a gourmet chef. I was throwing in all sorts of crazy concoctions – Chalula, A1, chili powder, asparagus, generous servings of horseradish, whatever (I didn’t have the cajones to try the Slim Jims, though). Incredible. Though at $11.50 per Goose Bloody Mary, anything short of incredible would have been grounds to leave quickly.

One Bloody Mary led to another, which led to another, and so on. We watched most of the Lakers-Cavs game while sipping (sometimes pounding) Bloody Marys and eating omelets. The game ended, and we pondered our next move. Seema tried to convince her parents, who had just seen Wicked in Hollywood, to come by for some food and maybe a drink. They’re clearly wise with their years though (NO, I’m not calling your parents old), and declined our invitation when it became clear to them that we were all half-drunk. So what to do now? Since Shaily had told “her man” (I don’t exactly know “where” they’re at, so I figured that was safe) to come meet us at the Belmont straight from Staples Center, we had no choice but to stay there and hang out. And drink.

At around 4 or so, our waitress was leaving for the day, so we had to settle our bill, which was something like $360 between 6 of us. After she changed into her “regular” clothes to head out, I swear she had a “so long suckers” look in her eyes as she took her 18% to go do lines with her unemployed actor boyfriend. We ordered what we thought were our final drinks of the day from our new waiter, and soon decided it was a good idea to go bowling. Seriously – is it ever NOT a good idea to go bowling when you’re already drunk? So we got our second check of the day and were ready to head out. Then, somehow, as if we needed it, we learned we were in the middle of happy hour, which lasted until 7. 22-ounce Fat Tires were $4, as were Mimosas. Hmmm. I guess we should stay a little while longer. I mean, we had already spent $60+ each to get drunk, so it only made budgetary sense to take advantage of the specials and keep the buzz going.

At this point, most of us switched our liquor of choice. I switched to Captain and Diets. Kush and Anuj switched to Fat Tire. Seema decided to ask for a glass of white wine. The waiter inquired, “Chardonnay? Pinot? Zinfadel?” To which Seema responded, “Yes.” Classic. The drunkenness continued, and sure enough turned into a game of “Never Have I Ever.” Always a fun game to play when you’ve been drinking. Even more fun when there’s not 1, but 2, couples at the table. Good times. Unfortunately, Never Have I Ever always depresses me a little bit, as I find myself drinking less than pretty much everyone else at the table. Even Anuj.

Sometime in the middle of Never Have I Ever, LA Clippers point guard Sam Cassell (“Sam I Am”) rolled into the restaurant, along with fellow NBA-er Damon Jones. Jones is a bench player for the Cleveland Cavaliers. The same Cleveland Cavaliers who we watched on TV earlier that day. While drinking Bloody Marys and eating brunch. So, evidently, we had been drinking long enough for Damon Jones to play ¾ of a basketball game, shower, meet up with his buddy Sam, and then go to the Belmont. Good times.

Finally, 7 p.m. rolled around. By this time, I think most of us had gotten drunk, sobered up a bit, and then got drunk all over again. We learned a lot about each other’s sexual histories. And we decided we were going to Vegas for the first weekend of March Madness (the only productive thing any of us did all day). We paid our third bill of the night and went our separate ways. Which, for Seema, Shaily, Vishal and I, was, of course, down the street to Spanish Kitchen for some Mexican food, Pacificos, and Margaritas. I think the owners of the Belmont must own Spanish Kitchen as well. How else to explain the random free margarita?

EDITOR'S NOTE: Seema just informed me that The Belmont and Spanish Kitchen, indeed, are owned by the same company/person. Frequent drinker points?

The Trifecta

2008-01-12T11:56:00.000-08:00

No, fellow Seinfeld aficionados, I’m not referring to sex, TV, and hot pastrami w/ mustard on rye (though I’m admittedly partial to all three). Instead I’m referring to three of my other passions which I managed to pull off in a quick 19-hour trip to Omaha.

Omaha?

Yup, Omaha. A group of 40 or so of us from Anderson made the trip to Omaha (in Nebraska, for those that don’t know) on Thursday evening for a Friday visit with The Man himself, Mr. Warren Buffett. Since Smitty doesn't read my blog, I'll assume that you all know who Mr. Buffett is. When the invitation was first sent out to the Finance Club at school, I was hesitant. Do I really wanna spend a day of my life and a few hundred dollars traveling to Omaha just to be part of a huge group getting a glimpse and a few bit pieces of advice from Buffett? I’m not sure what took me so long, but eventually I realized the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity with which I was being presented, so I RSVP’ed and booked my flight and hotel. Needless to say, I was surprised/excited when I found out that the hotel most of us would be staying at was a Harrah’s. Those of you who know me can probably start to see how the trifecta is coming together.

So I got to Omaha along with a handful of my classmates at around 11pm on Thursday night. We were welcomed by the Omaha winter – 19 degrees, and not even any pretty snow to look at. Our courtesy shuttle (we were staying at a Harrah’s, remember) dropped us off, and we quickly checked in, dropped our bags off and headed to the casino. Several hours later, I was up $60 or so thanks to some fantastic rolling by a fellow-Patel classmate as well as a dealer who paid me (on a double down, no less!) on my 17 against his 19. In my defense, I had given money back that I had not earned not once, but TWICE, that night. I figured if the dealers can’t keep track well enough to avoid three mistakes, it’s no longer my responsibility to keep correcting them. Besides, it was pretty late, and I figured if bad karma started to kick in, I would simply walk away after a couple bad hands in a row and call it a night.

After sleeping five hours (thank God the Harrah’s stopped serving liquor at 1:30 a.m., or else I would have been suffering from a serious hangover), I woke up, got ready and we headed over to Berkshire Hathaway’s offices. As a sidebar, if you’ve never been to Omaha, and I assume/hope that you haven’t, it’s got rural suburbia written all over it. Modest houses, no traffic. It actually reminded me a lot of the intro to The Office, where they show Scranton, PA. Steve Carell, however, is no Warren Buffett. And I didn’t see anyone who was even remotely as cute as Jenna Fischer. Anyways, we get to the offices, where we were joined by another 60 or so students from an MBA program in Brazil as well as undergrads from Omaha’s local university, Creighton, the alma mater of the great 3-point shooting specialist Kyle Korver, who I just found out 15 seconds ago on Wikipedia was born in Lakewood, CA, right next to my own hometown of Cerritos.

We were then treated to about two hours of Q&A with the great Mr. Buffett. The questions were pre-screened by one representative from each of the three schools. Buffett, however, had no idea what was going to be asked, and it didn’t matter, because the man knows so much about so many different things that he really couldn’t have done anything more to prepare himself anyways. He talked about everything from Investing (obviously), how to get girls (give them See’s Candies – a company owned by Berkshire, and NOT Russell Stover chocolates), and politics (despite being one of the wealthiest men in America, he adamantly opposes eliminating the estate tax and instead believes income/payroll taxes on lower-income workers should be dramatically reduced). While Mr. Buffett didn’t really say anything in the talks that I am likely to remember even a year or two from now, I will always remain impressed by his general sharpness, intelligence, and surprising sense of humor (while the fact that he’s a billionaire many times over likely got him some bonus laughs, he was actually pretty funny in his own right). And for a man of 77 years, he has an amazing memory, even recalling the locations of different CBS/ABC affiliates that The Washington Post owned in 1972 when Berkshire acquired a large stake.

After the Q&A, we all went to Piccolo Pete’s, one of several famous Omaha steakhouses. Of course, Omaha is known for their beef, and one of the things I was most looking forward to about the trip was enjoying a true Omaha Steak. Unfortunately, since Buffett was footing the bill for 100 or so hungry students, it was a prix fixe menu with a pretty underwhelming steak (I would have much rather spent $50 and paid for a proper slab of beef, but whatever). Technically, though, I did have an Omaha steak, thus completing the trifecta of the trip – gambling, investing, and steak.

Rise of the Native Son

2007-12-11T15:47:00.000-08:00

OK, lame title, I know. But I have two finals and a term paper due tomorrow, and I wanted to get this quick post in. For those who don't have CNBC on at work, and even more so for those who don't know what CNBC is, today marks what I'd say is a pretty historic day for Indians in the Western business world. Earlier today, Citigroup named Vikram Pandit its new CEO, effective immediately.

Of course, there have been Indian CEO's of American companies before (including Indra Nooyi, who is CEO and ChairWOMAN of another huge American icon, PepsiCo). With few exceptions, however, none of these individuals have been very "public" figures, whether due to their Companies' small sizes, their own personalities, whatever. The reason I think this is historic is because of the public face that bank CEOs have with investors and with Wall Street generally (had there not been even bigger news in the markets today, I would have guaranteed that Pandit's picture would be plastered on the front page of tomorrow's Journal). Because of this, unlike even Nooyi, who runs a company worth over $120 billion, most people even remotely interested in the markets have known who Pandit is for several years, dating back to his tenure at Morgan Stanley.

I'll be the first to admit that I'm rooting for Pandit to succeed (full disclosure: I do not directly own Citi shares). No, I wasn't born in India. Hell, the most successful Indian businessperson I know personally, my dad, was born in Nairobi! But I have to imagine that his success, or lack thereof, will determine how wide doors open for Indian businesspeople in this country, regardless of where they were born. Citi, after all, was at one point the most valuable bank in the country (until a lawyer took over and basically ran it face-first into the ground). It'll be interesting to see what happens, as the Company is an absolute mess right now. Let's just hope the new Chairman ("Sir" Win, obviously) and the rest of the Board gives him time to clean it up. Go Vikram!!!

Ignorant or Uneducated???

2007-12-08T20:22:00.000-08:00

As super-conservative Presidential Candidate Mike Huckabee continues to gain grounds in national polls of Republican voters, the spotlight on him is unsurprisingly brightening. The latest? This AP story discussing some written Huckabee statements regarding HIV/AIDS back in the early 90s.

My gut reaction to this was "nice knowing you, former potential Republican nominee Mike Huckabeee." But then I read the bulk of the article (something which I fear many will not). And it got me thinking. Were these statements those of an ignorant, gun-toting, gay-bashing Southerner? Or those of someone who was simply uneducated on the topic?

I tried to recall what, if anything, I knew about AIDS back in 1992. Of course, that was a long time ago (sadly, many, many years before I could actually convince a girl to sleep with me such that I had to worry about safe sex). All I can really remember was that, as of 1992, HIV/AIDS was the disease that killed Magic Johnson. Of course, Magic did not die from the virus, and has actually gone on to live a pretty healthy, very successful career post-NBA. I'd have to guess that his biggest health concern these days is to avoid gaining any more weight cuz then even the Big & Tall stores won't have anything for him.

Anyways, I guess my point is this. While at first many people will react the way I did and assume that Huckabee is just a homophobic ingorant biyatch, he's probably not. Before passing judgment (on a candidate I would NEVER vote for, FYI), one should think about all that we've learned about HIV/AIDS over the past 15 years. Now if we could just find a way to isolate the carriers of the other plague known as Republicanism. Actually, I guess that's what the Central and Mountain time zones are for.

Props to Unions

2007-11-20T11:14:00.000-08:00

Yes, I mean that. Don't get me wrong. I HATE unions. But check out this article. Unions have done what I previously thought was impossible. They've made French people even lazier.

What Would You Do With $20k???

2007-11-13T14:13:00.000-08:00

Well, it doesn't really matter. I just read this article about a Congressional estimate of the total economic impact of the war in Iraq. I consider myself pretty knowledgable when it comes to world events and politics, but even I was shocked when I got to the 5th paragraph. Over $20k per family of 4 will be spent on the war through 2008. Of course, I am not 4 people, but since 2002, I've likely paid close to the same amount of federal taxes as the "average" family of 4. While I'm still doing OK financially, aside from the mountains of b-school debt I have, it's still depressing to think of all the ways I could spend $20k (disclaimer: I understand I haven't actually paid $20k in additional taxes yet, but who do you think will eventually be paying for all these Bush-era budget deficits?). So what does $20,900 mean to me?

- Almost 18 months of rent
- Anywhere between 10-30 weekends in Vegas
- Almost 7,000 Washington Apple shots (inside joke from this past weekend)
- 6 or 7 more trips to go watch the Superbowl (yes, I know the Eagles won't play in another Superbowl in my life)
- And, of course, 1,045 lappies

For the sake of the gentlemen's club industry, PLEASE end this war Pres. Bush.

A Stroll Down Memory Lane...

2007-11-01T00:00:00.001-07:00

A crazy sequence of events has happened over the last 10 or so hours. Well, not "events", per se...but anyways. For once in my life, I'll just get to the point.

As I was sitting in my Entertainment Marketing class today, I noticed a guy sitting behind me whose name plate (we all have these name plates that we put up in class so Profs know who they are talking to) says "Alexander Du". I had seen the guy, who is in my year, plenty of times before, but never really had a conversation with him, let alone noticed his full name until today.

Anyways, the reason I noticed his name was because, back when I was in elementary school (waaaaayyy the fuck back - 1st-3rd grade), I had a friend named Alex Du. In fact, he was my best friend at the time (sorry, Anuj/Shashank). Given that I transferred out of the school, El Dorado, at the end of 3rd grade, I honestly don't remember if I ever even said a proper goodbye to Alex, or if I kept in touch with him for even a little while after that. I mean, it was literally 19 years ago, and this was obviously in the days before 3rd graders carried cellphones. And I've had a lot of "memory lapses" since then. I digress.

So later this evening, when I got home, I opened up the UCLA Anderson Class of 2008 Facebook (basically a Yearbook, except no "Have a great summer!" and "KIT"s written at the end of it). I wanted to see where this kid was from, and, sure enough, he is from Orange, CA, where El Dorado is located, and graduated college the same year I did. So rather than waiting to see him on campus, I sent him an email, asking if he went to El Dorado for 1st and 2nd grade.

About a half an hour later, this is the response I got:

"Yes I did! You know what’s funny is that I thought I asked you about this during the 80s party last year, and you gave me a weird look, so I thought I was a moron because I thought you were someone that you weren’t."

For reference, the 80s Party was last September, at the end of Orientation when I was but an innocent 1st year. It was an open bar, which probably explains a) why I gave him a weird look and b) why I don't remember the incident one little bit.

In any event, I am totally amazed by what has just happened. What are the odds you somehow randomly re-connect with your best friend from 19 f*cking years ago??? I was admittedly a little surprised I even remembered his full name to notice it. I'm looking forward to having lunch with him next week, to share memories of naptime (save the gay jokes) and skipping Kindergarden. Ahhh, a simpler time.

The End of an Era

2007-10-17T21:11:00.000-07:00

Ok. A few years doesn't really qualify as an era. A genre maybe? Who the hell knows.

Anyways, today is a sad day for blogs/bloggers everywhere, particularly myself. While I know I have only a handful or so of regular readers (evidently my whining about my favorite sports teams and least favorite politicians isn't that interesting to the layman), I try to keep my blog relatively up-to-date. Obviously, this largely means posting on a regular basis. While I have admittedly taken some long hiatuses, I think I do a fairly good job of this.

Other bloggers, unfortunately, don't. And that's the other part of keeping my blog up-to-date. As you can see, I have links on the side to several of my friends' blogs, most of which are infinitely more entertaining than mine. Today, you might notice, there's a few less links than there were the last time you were on my site. A couple removals were 3rd party/commercial-type blogs. The biggest "missing link", if you will, is that to Terence's blog. Or, should I call it, Terence's OLD blog. Mofo hasn't posted in close to two months! It's really sad, because Terence's blog, which in its heyday was wildly entertaining, was my inspiration to start a blog (that, and having nothing else to do at my previous job). Over time, just as people evolve, so do blogs. Terence's eventually evolved into, frankly, not much more than a hip-hop portal with the occasional "this is what's going on in my life" post. This worked out well for T, as readership seemed to jump (from randoms all over the world), but I missed the old stuff and am not really into the same kind of hip hop that he is.

Over the last two months, everyone has suffered. I've called T out on this several times, and he really hasn't defended himself, admitting he has no excuse for the loooooong break. While he was in Africa for a while, he's been back for over a month, and the motherfucker ain't got no job! (and he doesn't smoke, so it's not like he has a valid excuse to be sleeping half the day). Anyways, T, your time has run out, and the link, for now is gone. It can be won back...maybe this will serve as a bit of a kick-in-the-ass. Probably not.

We interrupt regularly scheduled programming...

2007-10-14T10:29:00.001-07:00

I know I still have a lot of posting to do about my vacation. But what happened last night warrants an audible.

Most of you probably know what I'm talking about. It started around 4:30 p.m., as #17 Kentucky knocked off #1 LSU in a triple-overtime thriller. Anuj, his brother Anish and Neel, who were over at my place to watch Cal-Oregon State, joined me in celebration. Part of it, for me at least, was personal, as I hate LSU Coach Les Miles for comments he has made about Pac-10 football, including my beloved alma mater Cal. But most of the celebration was because Cal, as the #2 team in the country, was in position to capture the #1 ranking for the first time since my parents were 4 years old. Rankings, to some extent, are meaningless, at least at this point in the season, but it was an exciting proposition nevertheless.

Well, any male reader knows what happens next. Cal was, for the most part, outplayed over the course of the next several hours. Angry Cal fans/alums will point to one of two things: 1) Coach Tedford deciding to try for one more play, rather than just taking the FG opportunity and trying to win in overtime, or 2) Redshirt Freshman QB Kevin Riley's admittedly inexplicable (the AP recap of the game actually used the word 'inexplicably' - you don't see that too often from one of today's most objective media sources) decision to scramble with 14 seconds left in the game and no timeouts. I, however, look at the fact that Cal's defense couldn't get off the field on 3rd down all game, or that supposed Heisman candidate DeSean Jackson had 4 catches for all of 5 yards, or that super-sensational true freshman Jahvid Best fumbled when he was (gently) bumped into by one of his own men, or that we couldn't punch it in on 4 tries after we had 1st and goal from the 2 (horrible play calling, btw). We lost that game over the course of it, not on any one decision/play.

In any event, it doesn't really matter what the reason is. We lost, and 15 hours later, I still can't think of a more painful way to lose a game and, more importantly, an opportunity, a possibility, that we might get to play for the national title in January (no matter what Aashish or anyone else says, I don't think there's a chance in hell that the title game is even a remote possibility anymore). I was obviously too depressed to go out and party last night, so I tried to cheer myself up with ice cream and a (mediocre) Chris Rock movie with Seema. Worked for a little while, but I still woke up hurting.

Now, I'm sitting and hoping the Eagles (up 10-6 on the really crappy J-E-T-S) and/or my fantasy football team can salvage the weekend. Also wondering if 10:47 a.m. is too early to numb the pain with some good scotch. I think I'll wait 13 more minutes. 10:47 is still morning. 11 is daytime.

The Vacay - Part I

2007-10-03T21:55:00.000-07:00

OK guys. Sorry, it's been a LONG time since I've posted. But it's been a bit tough. I was traveling for most of September, and the people I consider my blogging "peers" - G and T – haven’t blogged since Britney had custody of her kids, so I haven't had that kick-in-the-ass that I sometimes need to write.

Anyways, I last posted on or around my last day of work, and the time since then has been a whirlwind of buses, planes and ferries (no, not another reference to G and T). Oh. And liquor. Lots and lots of liquor. So forgive me if I've forgotten many of the details of Year 27 Month 7 of my life.

The first weekend of the vacay was spent up in the Bay Area. After a solid pre-party at Aashish’s place, complete with mini-Reese’s PB Cups and Chips Ahoys, we headed to a lounge called Roe, where I got a chance to see every Indian I knew in college. It was great catching up with friends I hadn’t seen in a while, and doing Patron shots with old, married friends. Speaking of which, the #2 highlight of Friday night was Rishi C. pestering me to go play poker with him and some of his GSB buddies after the club, me declining, Rishi sending me a text message at around 6am calling me a pu**y for not going, and then Rishi not waking up until the next afternoon, too hungover to drink before the big game. Well played, my friend. Not surprising, coming from a GSB’er.

What was the #1 highlight of Friday night, you ask? Well, after Aashish decided to get dragged around with all the girls in our group (really not as cool as it sounds), it presented a challenge as to how I was gonna get back into his apartment when the night was over. The fact that both of us were ass-backwards drunk did not help the matter. Fortunately, after a couple 2am phone calls, I was finally able to get a hold of Aashish, who said he was back at his apartment. “Will you be up when I get there?”, I somehow had the sense to ask. “Yes” came the seemingly-honest response. After dropping off G, the cab rolled up to Aashish’s building and I called him. No answer. Fuck. I didn’t even have a way to get into his building, let alone his apartment. Hooray! A tenant happened to be getting home at the same time, so I followed her and her boyfriend in. Not recognizing me as a fellow tenant, she gave me a weird look, so I told her that I was staying with a friend (Aashish was getting dangerously close to slipping out of the proverbial ‘friend zone’) and took the stairs up to Aashish’s floor so as not to scare the poor girl any further. Maybe I’ll get lucky and his drunk ass left the door unlocked. Nope. I start ringing the doorbell and pounding on the door. Nada. Start calling his phone. I HEAR the phone ringing in his apartment. So he is indeed home. No answer. Having a well-documented travel history with Aashish, he probably can’t hear the damn phone over his snoring. I send a couple dirty text messages – not the kind of dirty messages I send Seema – but stuff like “Die slowly”. Nothing. Call Deepa to see if she might be able to help in any way whatsoever. Unsurprisingly, she just delayed the whole process by 5 minutes. Finally, I decide to suck it up and call G and see if I can crash at his place. He was nice enough to have his roommate – probably the only sober person we knew in all of SF - drive back to Aashish’s, pick me up, and I crashed on his recliner that night. Thanks G. Fuck you Aashish.

The next day was spent in Berkeley, of course, for what espn.com had pretty much labeled “The Revenge Game.” It was an appropriate name for me personally, having spent a few days and a small fortune in the Deep South (Knoxville) last year only to watch Cal get run off the field. Since the Tennesseans were generally quite hospitable last year, I tried to return the favor by limiting the inbreeding and other redneck jokes. But I have to admit I was surprised, and upset, about the sea of orange that took over the city of MY alma mater. Those Southerners really do take their football seriously. Anyways, there’s not a whole lot to write about here. Basically a lot of beer, a little Top Dog (thanks for standing in line Deeps!), and potentially the only Cal score I will remember for the rest of my life: Cal 45, Tennessee 31. (For the record, I also remember Cal 52, Virginia Tech 49, but that’s mainly because I have a t-shirt with the final score printed on it – definitely not because I actually remember the game, which I don’t). The kinda depressing part of the whole thing was that I wasn’t all that excited about the win. Don’t get me wrong – I was very happy – but it was much more ‘relief’ than it was ‘excitement’. That’s how I am with sports. I tend to assume my teams are gonna suck (having gone to Cal, and being a Mets and Eagles fan, I’m usually right) but even when they lose I’m still ridiculously depressed. And when “we” do well? Then it’s just relief. Not excitement. Maybe that will change if any of my teams ever wins a friggin championship. If.

After the game, we were all too exhausted to drink, let alone stand up, so we ate some Mario’s (best Mexican in Berkeley, hands down), and headed home. The rest of the weekend was basically drinking, a couple strippers, a fantasy football draft (Philip Rivers? What was I thinking?!), some more drinking, 3am pizza, and some drunken Wii tennis (just like in real life, my serve blows).

That’s all for now. I was planning on doing one long post for the entire vacation, but I figure this is long enough for all of us for the time being. Chicago, Croatia, Boston and New York to follow...and hopefully some pictures as well.

Ain't Nothin Like Them Summer Nights...

2007-08-29T09:03:00.000-07:00

Well, the summer is winding down to an end. For most of you anyways. For me, it’s just beginning. Friday is the final day of my internship, and then I’m off for 4 weeks. Gotta love graduate school. I’ll be doing a lot of traveling – mostly domestic, but also 8 days in Croatia (apparently the new Riviera spot). Have you ever noticed that when you travel domestically, you never really do any sightseeing? Even when you go to places you haven’t ever been, do you kinda just go to hang out and party? For instance, 2 years ago, I went to Chicago to vyatisit and meet up with some friends, and all we did was eat, drink, and watch a Cubs game. My only lasting memories? Being served drinks while waiting in the long line for the club (a fantastic idea which needs to catch on in Hollywood), and falling off my subway seat after coming back from the Cubs game (no explanation necessary).

So next week when Aashish and I visit Manish in Chi-town, in addition to going to a Cubs game (which fortunately will not require a subway trip this time around since Manish now lives in Wrigleyville), I’ve requested that we do some “Chicago” stuff. Sears Tower, Michigan Avenue, maybe an architectural boat tour that we’ve heard good things about. And of course some deep dish. Hopefully by the end of the trip, when I’ll be visiting Boston and NYC, I’ll still have some motivation and energy to check out some major landmarks and/or museums.

Anyways, I’ll try to post any interesting stories that come up as I travel. In the meantime, I can’t really concentrate right now as I, as many of you readers might be, am super-stoked about Cal-Tennessee. Saturday, 5 p.m. Primetime. National TV. Time for revenge for my painful trip to Knoxville last year. Go Bears!

The most interesting thing going on these days, however, is work. That’s right – work. My boss must know me well already. Trying to avoid the typical “check-out” week that most people go through at the end of their internships, my boss assigned me an interesting little project. Vegas. That’s right, Vegas. My boss asked me to take a look at the casino companies and see if there are any interesting investment opportunities I can come up with in a few days. While it has been a lot of typical dull research, it has been one of the most interesting projects I’ve had to work on all summer, probably in my life. It’s just fun learning things about Vegas that don’t involve Smitty’s dirty hook-up stories. For instance – did you know that casinos on the Strip earn only 40% of their revenues from gambling, with a whopping 20% from food and beverages? And that they earn slightly more profit in aggregate from slot machines than they do from all the table games combined?

OK - if those random financial stats don’t interest all you party animals out there, I also learned that a new club (Blush) is opening at the Wynn on Labor Day weekend, the Luxor is gradually losing its Egyptian theme and adding a bunch of upper-scale bars and clubs, and the company that owns the Venetian is opening a major expansion called the Palazzo in late 2007. Also, the average table game (i.e. per blackjack or craps or 3-card table) netted the Wynn over $10,000 per day. Meaning I’m just a tiny little drop in the bucket. I guess that wasn’t really new information though.

Can't Islam and Capitalism Just Get Along???

2007-08-16T14:19:00.000-07:00

Evidently, they can.

My Crack

2007-08-09T13:41:00.000-07:00

About a week ago, I came to an important, life-altering…actually, a life-revolutionizing (thank you Shift-F7) decision. Many of you know I’m a pretty avid runner. I generally try to get in 20-25 miles a week over 5 or 6 days. Some of you also know that through a combination of this amount of running, chicken legs that are barely bigger than my arms, and the fact that I’ve never done a squat in my life, I’ve developed the knee problems of a 70-something ex-marathon runner. Unfortunately, I’m only 27, and I haven’t ever run a marathon. Not even a half-marathon.

After cutting down on the length of my runs, sticking almost exclusively to the treadmill (as opposed to the corrosive pavement), undergoing some pretty half-ass PT sessions at the UCLA Health Center last fall, and incorporating some extra stretching and modest leg exercises into my workouts, my knee problems started to subside a little bit. At least enough for me to resume my running schedule. Good enough for me.

Fast forward to last Wednesday night’s Dodgers-Giants game. Already upset about arriving in the middle of the 5th inning and thus missing Barry Bonds’ first 2 at-bats, I started to notice a decent amount of pain in my right knee, sitting in those cramped little seats. Granted, it wasn’t enough pain that I couldn’t enjoy the game, beer, or lackluster company. But enough pain that I was aware of it – and aware that it wasn’t the first time I had felt pain when I’m unable to stretch my legs out.

So after some pretty serious thoughts about it, I realized I didn’t wanna be a cripple in my later life. Don’t get me wrong – I don’t want to run marathons in my 50s or take hiking vacations in my 60s like my parents do. But I’d like to be able to chase my grandkids (save the comments) around and just get around like a normal human being. And I figured unless I dramatically cut back on the running, this wasn’t gonna happen.

Last Thursday – a week ago – was the last day I ran. I took the weekend off altogether for yet another Vegas rendezvous, and since Monday I’ve been doing the elliptical. Every time I walk into the gym, I have to pull myself away from the treadmill like G or T from the strip club when their flight is 30 minutes away. After all, it has so many advantages over the elliptical. First off, exercising on the half skiing, half running elliptical just plain looks silly. Frankly, it’s a little tougher for me and makes me sweat like an animal. Lastly and probably most importantly, is the lack of motivation. Let me explain. At UCLA’s Wooden Center, where I work out, there are 4 rows of cardio equipment. The first row is the exercise bikes, typically manned by older people with the knee issues I’m trying to avoid. The second row is the ellipticals, with probably a 70/30 female-male ratio. The last two rows are the treadmills. Starting to get my picture? Those of you who go to the gym and look around to make sure you get a machine “with a view” certainly understand where I’m coming from. Needless to say, this has been a wildly underrated challenge in trying to kick the habit. I’ve made it into the gym 3 times without getting on a treadmill – and haven’t even puked or broken out in a cold sweat yet. Here’s to hoping I can stay off the wagon (or is it “on”?).

See - I don't TOTALLY hate fat people

2007-07-27T06:03:00.001-07:00

Sure, you all know I'm not the biggest fan. So when I first saw the headline and link to this clip, I kinda laughed. But then I actually watched the clip, learning that this elephant was the little boy's uncle, and that he clearly had great intentions and a lot of love for this boy. I've heard of activist judges, but this is a little ridiculous. It would be one thing if this guy actually had diabetes or sleep apnea or whatever already, or maybe if he was on the border of not being able to take care of himself, let alone a little boy. But it seems that wasn't the case, and this judge should be sent walking.

Flashback to a Previous Life

2007-07-16T15:56:00.000-07:00

After spending the weekend in New Jersey (NOT NYC, unfortunately), some classmates and I were scheduled to fly back on a 9pm flight that would get us back to LAX at just past midnight. I figured that would get me in bed by 1 or 1:30, and, when combined with the sleep that I’d get on the plane, I could wake up at my usual 5 o’clock and be down but not out for the workday on Monday.

Of course, this plan quickly went awry when we were delayed multiple times. First, a gate change. Then, a delay at the gate. Finally, we board and I’m sitting comfortably (loose use of the word) in my aisle seat. Then another delay on the tarmac. Damn!!! I was convinced that, due to all the noise regulations that dictate when planes can and can’t land and take-off, we would end up spending the night on the East Coast and catching a God-awful 6am back. This happened to me a couple years back, and our plane was forced to land in Buffalo due to bad weather in NYC. Even with Seinfeld reruns and room service potato skins, there’s not much fun about spending a night in Buffalo, believe me. Fortunately, things turned out better this time, and we managed to get out of there, finally landing at LAX around 1:45 a.m. “Sweet!”, I think to myself. I can be in bed by 2:45 if this all works out OK.

Of course, it does not all work out OK. It took forever and a day for our bags to come out, and, despite the efforts of an aggressive cabbie speeding down the 405 and the 10, my head did not hit my pillow until around 3:15 a.m. That 5 a.m. alarm is looking awfully close.

So I woke up Monday morning on a few hours of beer-induced plane sleep and a couple hours of toss-and-turn sleep at home (tossing and turning mainly because I was stressed out about how little sleep I was gonna get, which, yes, I know, is counterproductive). It reminded me of my previous life as an investment banker, when working 10 or 12 or even 14 hours after just a few hours of sleep was not an uncommon way of life. Of course, I was in my early 20’s back then, before my liver and brain had suffered the lagged damage caused my mass consumption of alcohol and association with below-average-intelligence friends. So I was very curious to see how my mind and body would respond to these adverse conditions. In honor of Bill Simmons and his comedic running diaries of the annual NBA Draft, the following is a summary of my day:

5:50 a.m. – After grabbing my coffee on the way to work, I’m driving East on Santa Monica Blvd. towards the office. Multiple cars in adjacent lanes seem to be off-track and keep venturing dangerously over the line a good 6-12 inches into mine. I’m pretty sure that this is really happening, and that it’s not just the lack of sleep playing tricks on my eyes. In any event, I am relieved when I arrive to work safely. Since I’ll never know whether or not those cars were actually in my lane, I have to call this one a draw.

6:15 a.m. – I am conscious enough to go through my work emails and process them appropriately, including doing some quick analysis and sending a reply to an email from my boss. Yatin 1, lack of sleep 0.

6:30 a.m. – I spill close to half of my Honey Nut Cheerios (milk included) all over my desk. Tie game.

7:30 a.m. – On my way back from the restroom, I bump into the Xerox machine. Lack of sleep 1.5, Yatin 1. I figured there was a 50/50 shot that I’d bump into the Xerox even if I had gotten enough sleep, so I can’t give it a full point.

9 a.m. – “Is it really only 9 a.m.???” I think to myself as I finish coffee #3.

11:27 a.m. – Just got coffee #5. It’s a “half-caff” though and will most likely be my last of the day. Things are looking up. I’m being pretty productive, though likely not operating at 100% of capacity. I’m at about the halfway point of the workday. My boss is off at some meeting or appointment, potentially for the rest of the day. I’ve refrained from attacking any of the quick, pick-me-up sugary snacks available in the kitchen. Yatin 2, lack of sleep 1.5

3:47 p.m. – I’ve made it. Pretty much anyways. I’ve read some research and built a DCF model with “Base”, “Bear” and “Bull” cases (talk about flashbacks to being a banker), which is the main thing I wanted to accomplish today, although I probably could have done more. I even managed to run out and deposit my last paycheck and the long-overdue money I was owed from Atur’s bachelor party. I’ll be out of here in less than an hour. It might seem a small accomplishment, but I’m quite proud of having made it through today without falling asleep at my desk or causing any major accidents – the Cheerios incident notwithstanding. I even have the energy to go to the gym for a workout, but instead I have a lot of errands to run and figure I deserve a day off. Maybe 27 isn’t so old after all. Maybe.

Donwfall of a Another Superpower?

2007-07-11T22:15:00.000-07:00

The Lakers and Celtics haven't won anything in a while (and no, Javaris Crittenton and Ray Allen are not changing that). The football powerhouse 49ers and Raiders continue to stink up the Bay Area (should have drafted Aaron Rodgers and Matt Leinart, respectively). Even the ultimate deficit spender, the Yankees, are below .500 and look unlikely to make the playoffs. Now this. Sure, they can screen out random brown people at the airport and wiretap innocent people's phones without warrants, but, hey, you can buy do-it-yourself nuke kits! (just a matter of time before you can "Buy it Now" on eBay). My parents (and likely many of yours) moved to the U.S. to get a better life for their children. With the morons we have on top these days, I wonder where I'll be moving ten years from now to brighten my own kids' future.

Back in the Office

2007-07-03T13:21:00.000-07:00

So I guess it’s been a while since my last post. And even longer since my last non-current event post (man, I REALLY wanted to write about Bush commuting the jail sentence of Scooter “I Can Reveal CIA Secrets and Avoid Jail Because I Used to Work for the Most Powerful Person in American Politics (Dick Cheney)” Libby, but I resisted for the benefit of my readers).

I guess one of the reasons I haven’t been posting much lately is because, well, I’ve been busy. Translation: I’m no longer in school (temporarily) and I’m back at a desk, in business casual clothes (the goatee is here to stay though) working my skinny ass off. My first year of the MBA program ended a few weeks ago, and after taking nothing more than a 3-day weekend off to recover, I was in the office, doing my thing (no, “my thing” does not refer to beating off, getting bosses’ coffee, or surfing the web…OK, a little surfing the web).

I’m spending the summer at a hedge fund in Century City. There’s been two big adjustments – one expected, one quite surprising - I’ve had to make, since it had been close to a year since my last day at my previous job. The predictable, not-getting-any-easier adjustment has been waking up at 5 a.m., NOT to work out, but to get my ass to work by 6 (market hours!!!). Needless to say, this is especially tough after a weekend in Vegas where the average go-to-bed time was around 4 a.m.

The bigger, surprising adjustment has been having to get used to a job that I actually enjoy. That’s right. I’m not just talking about the money (good, but not great), the location (right by the Century City Mall), or the perks (free lunch, snacks, soda and all the gum one can possibly consume), but the actual work itself. Researching industries and companies, meeting with management teams, and deciding in which companies to invest and not to invest has actually been interesting to me, compared to my prior (higher-paying) jobs of tedious number crunching and word processing.

Now that I may have actually found something that I can enjoy doing for a long time coming, I sure as f*ck hope I turn out to be good at it. More on that in about two months. Until then, Happy Fourth!

In America? Really???!!!

2007-06-20T15:55:00.000-07:00

I just came across this article on cnn.com. The first thing I saw, of course, was the headline. Sounds brutal. Then I saw the picture and the female relative's name. I don't think this makes me a racist, but I just naturally made the quick assumption that this took place somewhere in Latin America. I mean, drivers don't just get beat to death (not shot, not stabbed - BEAT) in America, do they?

Then I read the article and was stunned that this happened here in the US, in a relatively big city as Austin, no less. I'm not sure if the driver did anything more than hit the girl - the article doesn't indicate that he did. If he didn't, then I hope all of this angry crowd gets sent away for a long, long time. Aren't we past the days of "A Time to Kill" where our residents have to turn to vigilante law?

Yat Does Book Reviews...

2007-06-05T23:26:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading A Thousand Splendid Suns, a novel by Khaled Hosseini. Many of you know him as the author of The Kite Runner, an incredible debut novel published in 2003. Even after all that time, it still sits at #3 on NY Times Best Sellers in the Paperback Fiction category. Doing some quick research for this post, I also discovered that (according to IMDB), the movie will be released later this year, and, (according to Wikipedia), it was the first novel published in English by an author from Afghanistan.

First of all, not to be on his jock or anything, but I can’t get over how incredibly talented this man is. A medical doctor by training, then a bestselling author, and most recently, a goodwill envoy to UNHCR, the United Nations Refugee Agency. I am absolutely nothing. If you haven’t yet, go out and read The Kite Runner. At that point, I won’t even have to convince you to read A Thousand Splendid Suns (I pre-ordered it several months ago from amazon.com about 5 minutes after they emailed me letting me know it was available).

Without giving away much of the plot, both novels take place in Afghanistan over the last 30 or so years, starting with the pre-Soviet days, to the Soviet invasion, to the emergence of the Taliban, to the post-Taliban “cleanup.” I’ve found both novels incredibly enlightening on the politics and history of the region. I read A Thousand Splendid Suns with my laptop at my side pretty much throughout, often googling some of the names and places mentioned in the story, and found the references and descriptions to be almost incredibly accurate.

This is gonna sound corny, but the most important thing I have gotten from both novels is that each has made me appreciate the circumstances I’ve been fortunate enough to be raised in. It’s easy to forget how good we (most of us) have it, given how removed we are from most of the world’s great atrocities – the ongoing war in the Middle East (not just Iraq), genocide in Darfur, wars being fought by drugged child soldiers, hunger everywhere, etc., etc., etc. I think the closest we’ve come to seeing anything that devastating here in the U.S. in recent memory is with Hurricane Katrina and what it did to the city and residents of the New Orleans area. But Katrina, of course, was not a man-made disaster and, on top of that, how many of us have actually seen the impact, or know people directly impacted? I’m not proud of it, but I have to admit it sometimes takes powerful fiction such as that given to us by Khaled Hosseini to make me thankful for what I have.

Do yourself a favor and give at least one of these novels a read. I swear, I’m not getting any commissions.

This is why people hate trial lawyers...

2007-05-24T14:05:00.000-07:00

Yet ANOTHER example of the insanely, outrageously litigious society in which we live. Anyone who is a sports fan has certainly read of Josh Hancock's unfortunate death from a car accident last month. The autopsy showed Hancock was well above the BAC limit, was not wearing a seatbelt, and was talking on his cellphone when he crashed into a truck that was stopped on the highway. Today comes this article on espn.com. If you're too lazy to click the link and read the article, basically, Hancock's father is suing the restaurant where Josh had been drinking prior to his accident.

Now, don't get me wrong...I'm a pretty blue-blooded (blue-balled?) American, voted for Kerry (and actually preferred his ex-trial lawyer VP Candidate, John Edwards), but some of these lawsuits I read about are ridiculous. First fat people start suing McDonald's (are they gonna sue gyms next for being too expensive or not having adequate parking?), then Kramer sues Java World because his spilled coffee was too hot (it's supposed to be hot!), now this. Of course, I'm sure Mr. Hancock isn't the first family member of a deceased to sue a restaurant/bar for "overserving", but at what point does the responsibility become the drunk's? At what point should he say "I'm too drunk, I shouldn't drink anymore" or "Man, now I'm REALLY fucked up...I DEFINITELY shouldn't drive anywhere" or finally, "Maybe I should put on my seatbelt and get off the damn phone." I don't wanna demean the poor kid, but enough is enough already. I'm really starting to feel sorry for all my poor bastard friends in medicine for all the whining they do about MedMal.

A Weekend in the Life of a Bachelor...

2007-05-22T15:32:00.001-07:00

As promised, here is the “After” version of the Vegas Blog. Just like the “Before” version, this is pretty much a waste of my not-so-valuable time since everyone who reads my blog was in Vegas with me, but whatevers.

After anxiously passing the time Friday morning/afternoon pounding coffee and watching Family Guy clips on YouTube, we finally took off at around 2:30pm. Terence – who I had told we might pick up from the airport after his 5pm landing in Vegas – texted me asking if we were on the road yet, right as we got on the 10. “Define ‘on the road’” was my response and, needless to say, he was forced to cab it to the hotel. After sitting in standard Friday afternoon traffic, we finally made it to Barstow. Between the Del Taco and the Level-Lemonades Shashank and I made for the road, my weekend had peaked and I was pretty much ready to go home. But we had gambling to do and lappies to buy Atur, so we trekked on towards Vegas, finally arriving at 8:30 or so. We met up with Terence, checked in, and the real drinking was on.

After killing most of the Level and getting ready to go out, we headed to Harrah’s to play some cards. I have a lot of bad history at that place – from losing money to storming out because the dealers told me not to curse, and this time it wasn’t really going any better. Alas, we had to solider on, as we couldn’t really go to a club/strip club just yet because we were still waiting for Atur and his San Diego crew to arrive. They finally did, just past midnight, but Atur informed us that he didn’t want to go clubbing, just wanted to gamble. Damn, this is gonna get expensive.

After growing increasingly frustrated with Steve from San Francisco’s refusal to deal me a decent Blackjack hand, I moved over to the Craps tables. I really don’t know why Craps isn’t my primary game, or at least a close second. It’s funner than Blackjack – more communal, more chicks, etc., other people can’t f*ck up your bets like they can in Blackjack (except by crapping out, but it’s completely out of their control, unlike hitting a 12 against a 6 or splitting 10’s, which is totally within one’s control), and historically, I’ve had pretty decent luck at Craps, at least relative to Blackjack. In any event, Friday night was no different, as I was able to offset some of my Blackjack losses. At around 3 a.m. or so, the strip club conversation started to happen – Terence and I were both there, after all, and it was a bachelor party. While I waited for everyone to gather themselves, I played a quick $100 hand, won, and walked away like someone who DOESN’T have a gambling problem. Unfortunately, after 10 or 15 more minutes of waiting for everyone, I fell off the wagon (or “on the wagon”?), played another $100 hand, and you can guess what happened.

FINALLY, everyone was ready to go, except for, unsurprisingly, Neel, Anuj’s brother, and Atur’s gay friend (probably the most awkward question I’ve ever had to ask anyone – asking him if he wanted to join us at the strip club). Since there were 10 or so of us, we decided to throw good money after bad and hop in a limo to take us to Crazy Horse Too, and the night started looking good. Unfortunately, I didn’t heed the advice I had heard to avoid the Horse (historically by far my favorite SC in Vegas). Evidently, the place lost its liquor license earlier in the year and, while it now had gotten it back, a lot of the girls had left and not come back. This is how bad it was – I didn’t get a lappie for maybe the first time in Vegas since I started going to strip clubs 5 years ago. And these are half naked women I’m talking about! Fortunately, Atur had the Beer/Food goggles on and got himself a few, and another individual who asked not to be identified met a wholesome Indian girl and spent a solid 45 minutes with her – good for him. The stripper taking HIS shirt off in front of everyone – bad for us.

We walked out at around 5:30 a.m., and, much to our shock, it was already daytime. Not even daybreak or sunrise or anything like that. It was as bright as high noon. Went back to the hotel, laughed as a dealer talked shit about Anuj behind his back, won some more of my money back, ate some eggs, got into yet another 7 a.m. argument with a dealer, and bid Terence adieu as he left for his 8:30 a.m. flight at what felt like 8 a.m. Terence – you may have a problem.

After unsuccessfully trying to sleep off my hangover, I finally dragged myself out of bed and we all headed down to the lobby to partake in various typical Vegas daytime activities – eating overpriced, under-tasty food court grub, hanging out by the pool staring at girls, drinking bloody marys, Bud Lights and 48-oz. margaritas, and gambling. The trend of losing big at Blackjack and winning moderately at Craps continued. Maybe I’ll learn my lesson from this. I even had the chance to chat with a cute girl from Texas while her husband was off in the bathroom. Hook ‘Em Horns.

At 7:30 Saturday night, the official bachelor party started. MC’ed by Neel and Anuj, it entailed about 20 crappy speeches, an inspired poetry recital by the MC’s, and mass consumption of Vodka and Champagne. Gaurav, who had gained some major friend/ex-roommate brownie points with Atur for showing up despite a hectic work schedule, lost them all (in my opinion) for refusing to drink any Champagne (even the non-drinkers had a little) because it supposedly “f*cks him up”. Pu**y.

The party then moved to the Hummer Limo that we had reserved for a few hours. We had planned for the first hour to basically be cruising up and down The Strip. Unfortunately, it instead ended up being an hour of a) sitting in Strip traffic, b) stopping at a drug store and a liquor store (separate stops) to get liquor, ice and mixers, and c) going back to the Venetian, our starting point, to pick up a few of the people who had just got to Vegas and then waiting for Sanjay who had ran off to the bathroom amidst the commotion of squeezing three more people into the limo. I know Anuj is pissed as he’s reading this, because he thinks I’m talking shit about the limo he reserved, but in reality it was a lot of fun, with the music blasting and liquor flowing (sidebar thanks to Asim for hooking up the Patron). The real bummer is that Vegas apparently has a new law outlawing sunroofs in limos. WTF?! How else are we supposed to see the drunk girls’ boobies?

The rest of the evening was pretty standard bachelor party fare. Dinner at Border Grill, a Mexican restaurant at Mandalay (not recommended for the food, though the atmosphere was pretty cool), clubbing at Jet (in the Mirage), where we were fortunate enough to run into not one, but two Indian bachelorette parties (Shital even got a fake phone number, which is still better than getting shut out altogether right? No? Oh well), more blackjack (I guess I didn’t learn the Craps > Blackjack lesson after all), and running into a college friend who I hadn’t seen since graduation. For some reason, we didn’t make it to a strip club (Tejas is still upset about that). Oh, and Atur FAILED to complete the entire list of “to do’s” that Tejas had put together for him. He did manage, however, to get a lap dance from a non-stripper, dance with a hot chick, and snap a girl’s thong. All in the day of the life of a bachelor.
Someone thinks it's Arjun's Bachelor Party:

Damn, it's been a while:

Yeah I do!

Vegas Baby!!! (once again)

2007-05-18T12:09:00.000-07:00

There's really no valid reason for me to post today. But I'm bored, and downright giddy. Heading to Vegas in a couple hours and it's been 4 1/2 months since my last trip. It'll be an especially interesting trip given it's a bachelor party for Atur, one of my oldest friends, and the first guy in our little HS friend circle to get married.

What will be REALLY interesting to see is the intra-group split. I think there's 18 or 20 or so people going, several of whom are non-drinkers/non-partyers (non-fun) and several of us who live to drink and go to Vegas to live.

More to come Monday...

In need of a vacation…

2007-04-29T22:15:00.000-07:00

Since it had been a month since my last trip, a week spent in Japan (yes, I gave up on blogging about Japan – sorry), I felt I deserved another vacation. After all, in that month, I had secured a summer internship, read some Strategy cases, did some homework, and made it to the gym a few times. It was time to relax. So I basically took the last 4 days off.

The mini-vacay started Wednesday night at the Dodgers-Giants game. The highlight of the game was without a doubt Barry Bonds’ 3-run home run in the top of the 1st inning. Unfortunately, we were still on the freeway at that point and only managed to catch the highlight on the radio and later on ESPNEWS. Other than that, the game was pretty much drinking and eating and watching the Dodgers futile efforts to come back fall short, as they lost 6-4.

After actually studying a little in the middle of my vacation on Thursday afternoon, we headed to Lakers-Suns Game 3 on Thursday evening. After 90 or so minutes of navigating Pico Blvd., Anuj and I finally made it Staples, parked the car, and caught the tail end of a radio show outside the arena, where we were pleased to meet Lindsey (below) and snap a quick photo with her. After a couple cocktails at the Fox Sports Bar, Atur and his fiancée, Sonal, arrived, only to find out that Sonal had accidentally bought tickets for Home Game 1 of Series D, not Series A. Well, Series D would be the NBA Finals, and it doesn’t look like there’s gonna be a Home Game 1 at Staples. Fortunately, Asim was nice enough to give Atur and Sonal his tickets (as a birthday gift to Atur), as Anuj and I just wandered into the arena to avoid the awkward situation. After the Suns jumped out to an 11-0 lead, it turned out to be a good game that the Lake Show ended up winning in the end. What really shocked me was how rowdy and excited all the Lakers’ fans were after the game, considering all the wins and championships in the team’s history. While I was admittedly happy for my Laker fan friends, as I told Anuj as we walked out, “Act like you’ve been there before.”

On Friday morning, I took a big step forward in my life – my first out-of-town trip with a girl I’m dating. The destination was kept a surprise from Seema (her guess was that I was taking her to f*cking Catalina – clearly I haven’t impressed her thus far) – we drove up to San Francisco and arrived to our hotel in Union Square at around 2pm. Spent a couple hours walking around in the blazing, atypical SF heat, reliving the Berkeley days where our most exciting excursions were Friday or Saturday afternoon trips to shop at Macy’s or the mall, or a birthday dinner at Cheesecake Factory. We had plans to meet T, his gf Kathleen, G, Aashish and Ronak for a drink before our 8pm dinner rezzie, which I knew was dangerous, but I figured Terence would keep everyone in check and make sure our schedule was met. However, by 7:30, only Aashish had shown up. I had changed dinner to 8:30 by that time, but the rest of the guys didn’t know that, so why were they dragging? Well, when they showed up, they informed me that they had taken the courtesy of calling the restaurant and changing our reservation for us, to 9pm. So thoughtful. The next hour consisted of wine and jokes made at my expense, most of which seemed designed to make sure I received no “benefits” from spending the time and money to plan a nice weekend away. Fortunately, Seema was buzzed enough that she laughed off and/or forgot most of it, and all was well – to this minute, I don’t know what exactly G was referring to when he texted me later in the evening, “Sorry for that bro.” Dinner was at Saha, which came on recommendation for Terence, and I will gladly recommend it to anyone else. Pretty reasonably priced - even more reasonable for me, since Seema paid for it :) - Arabic food, with excellent service in a very nice, casual setting at the Hotel Carlton.

On Saturday morning, we woke up to what is the worst feeling on a vacation – the wake-up call. We had to be in Calistoga (Napa Valley) at 10:45 sharp for a winery tour/tasting that I had booked. We made the drive and arrived right in the nick of time. As we waited in line, some douchebag ahead of us was bitching at the guy at the counter about a messed up reservation that was apparently not recorded properly. He made some comment about how, if the reservation wasn’t made properly by a certain employee, he was gonna “chew his ass”..poor choice of words by this dude (who exhibited other traits that led us to believe that ass-chewing was part of his, how do you say - repertoire), and we had a good laugh or two about this over the course of the weekend.

The reserve tour – at Sterling Vineyards – was very nice, highlighted by a tram ride that took us to the tasting rooms, an educational tour led by our friendly French guide (Jean Pierre, of course) and tasting probably 8-10 wines – whites, reds, the whole nine yards. The wine was fantastic – these guys make a special wine for the annual Academy Awards post-ceremony dinner. In hindsight, I realized this tour should have been the final stop rather than the first – since I was going to be driving all around Napa all afternoon, I refrained from finishing most of the glasses, and left far too much paid-for wine on the table.

From there, we spent the rest of the afternoon at a couple other wineries – Silver Oak (all Cab’s – my favorite), and Mumm – a sparkling wine place. It was a beautiful, albeit a bit TOO hot, afternoon in Napa, and we thoroughly enjoyed all the wine, as well as the pizza spot where we had lunch. Seema also thoroughly enjoyed the company of Ignacio, the waiter at Mumm who she decided it was OK to flirt with despite me sitting right there. I guess I should have paid for that dinner at Saha. Or not constantly sent and received text messages to stay on top of the NFL Draft (thanks Aashish). Lesson learned.

We spent the evening at Vintage Inn, a beautiful B&B-type place in Yountville, and had dinner at Mustard’s Grill, which, like pretty much every other spot on our journey, is highly recommended to anyone going to Napa in the future (but try to avoid sitting next to the jerkoff who was shouting nonsense at his date all evening – I even heard the term “EBIT” come out of his mouth at one point). Excellent ribs, fish, wine, and service. (Sidebar: The service all weekend was FANTASTIC. It’s something I’m very particular about and have been generally dissapointed with in LA – maybe if all these losers worried less about their soon-to-be-failed acting careers, they could do a better job of actually waiting tables and earning their 15+%).

Sunday was the depressing end of a wonderful 4-day vacation, spent driving home for about 6 ½ hours, capped by studying (sort of) for tomorrow’s HR/OB midterm and watching Dallas blow yet another game to the Warriors.

In Union Square:

Dinner at Saha:

A Bevy of Wines at Sterling Vineyards:

At Mumm:

Dinner at Mustard's Grill:

Re-defining the word "terror"

2007-04-16T17:07:00.000-07:00

At this point, there's no need to post a link to any of the articles about the tragic shootings on the Va Tech campus - surely you have all read them or seen the story on TV by now. Here's a quote I read from a WSJ email of the day's top headlines:

"FBI spokesman Richard Kolko said there was currently no evidence to suggest that the incident was a terrorist attack, but said "all avenues will be explored.""

(Major disclaimer: there's no direct quote with the word terrorism or terror in here, just the WSJ email suggesting that this was said by the FBI spokesman...I haven't been able to verify this quote)

This seemed like an idiotic comment to me, so I looked up the definition of "terror" on thefreedictionary.com to make sure I wasn't jumping to any inappropriate conclusions. Here's what I found:

ter·ror
n.
1. Intense, overpowering fear. See Synonyms at fear.
2. One that instills intense fear: a rabid dog that became the terror of the neighborhood.
3. The ability to instill intense fear: the terror of jackboots pounding down the street.
4. Violence committed or threatened by a group to intimidate or coerce a population, as for military or political purposes.
5. Informal An annoying or intolerable pest: that little terror of a child.

Basically all the definitions revolve around "intense fear" and the instilling of it. Now, some quotes from a cnn.com article on the story (still in developing stages):

"Amie Steele, editor-in-chief of the campus newspaper, said one of her reporters at the dormitory reported "mass chaos.""

"The reporter said there were "lots of students running around, going crazy,"

"Waldron described the scene on campus as "mayhem." "

And the doozy: ""It was kind of scary," he said. "These two kids I guess had panicked and jumped out of the top-story window and the one kid broke his ankle and the other girl was not in good shape just lying on the ground." "

I don't know about you, but when people are jumping out of windows (we all remember those crazy pics of people jumping out of the WTC 6 years ago), there's some fear going on. Big-time.

So, if "terror" is supposed to be that which "instills intense fear", then why isn't this labeled a "terrorist attack"? I wonder - did 9/11 change the definition of "terror" or a "terrorist attack" to factor in who commits the act? This is obviously a rhetorical question that bears some thoughtful consideration.

Times-a-changin?

2007-04-15T16:39:00.000-07:00

This article caught my eye this afternoon. Looks like the Dems are, much to my surprise, way out ahead of the Republicans early on in the fundraising race, Hillary in particular. There's obviously a lot of time to go, but it seems the Republican stronghold on spending might be diminishing, at least for this particular election. None of us can deny how (sadly) important money is in winning votes in today's 2-party environment - we all remember those Swift-Boat attacks on Kerry and there's no doubt in my mind they cost him on election day. So it'll be interesting to see whether this holds through next November, and, if so, what impact it has on the 2008 Presidential Election. Of course, Hillary's candidacy is totally changing the game from a whole host of perspectives, so money might not be the only aspect of politics put on display over the next year-and-a-half.

Ouch...

2007-04-12T07:52:00.000-07:00

Here's a quote from the WSJ regarding Citigroup's recent cost-cutting announcement:

"In addition to job reductions, coming mostly through layoffs...about 9,500 jobs will be moved to lower-cost locations such as Buffalo, N.Y., and Poland."

First Willis McGahee, now the Journal. Where you at Buffalo?

P.S. Still working on the Japan post. Hopefully up within a couple days.

Sayonara

2007-03-21T22:01:00.000-07:00

Another quarter of school has come and gone. I can't believe I'm already 1/3 of the way through my business school curriculum. It's kinda sad, really. In an interview yesterday, I was asked "you're spending a lot of time and money on business school - what's the most important thing you've gotten out of it thus far?" I hope the guy couldn't see me struggling to come up with an answer (which I think had something to do with the people and new experiences or something useless). As evidenced in my Operations final on Tuesday, I really haven't learned anything yet. Nor do I have a job lined up.

Oh well. Not the time to get depressed about the blown tuition. I'm off to Japan tomorrow for a little over a week. Enjoy the first week of Spring everyone.

March Madness...

2007-03-15T09:46:00.000-07:00

Is quickly turning into March Sadness in Palo Alto, as the Louisville Cardinals have jumped out to a 17-8 lead over the Stanford Cardinal, in what I have cheesily dubbed the "Battle of Singular vs. Plural."

These 4 days are amongst my favorite of the year - 48 College Basketball games in a 4-day period. Last year, I spent all 4 days in a drunken, sleepless stupor in Las Vegas. From a gambling perspective, I approximately broke even, which I thought was pretty impressive considering I bet on probably 25-30 of the games as well as played hours upon hours of blackjack every day - like I said, on little-no sleep and with 10-50 drinks in me.

Unfortunately, this year, I was unable to make the trek to Vegas due to Finals that start on Monday. In hindsight, I probably should be there anyways, considering I did pretty well last quarter in terms of grades, and I'm still sitting here without a job. Oh well, lesson learned I suppose. It'd be the first one since I started school again. I am quite proud of the fact that no one else in last year's group made the trek this year, as without my leadership skills they were not able to properly coordinate.

Anyways, since I decided to skip most of my classes today to sit on my couch and watch basketball, and since CBS insists on showing this blowout (now 25-10 plurals), I figured the least I could do was write this quick blog. Quick question - is 9:59 a.m. too early to drink Scotch by myself? It's 18-year-aged Scotch, if that makes a difference.

Winter '06-'07, Bye-Bye-O

2007-03-05T22:37:00.000-08:00

Whoever (or is it "whomever"? Sometimes it's "who!") said people in L.A. miss out on the "changing of the seasons" were proven dead wrong over the last week. After the weekdays were consistently chilly and windy with highs in the 50's, Friday marked the unofficial first day of spring. It's been in the 70's every day since then, finally enabling me once again to take advantage of my beautiful surroundings by shopping and brunching on 3rd Street and going for a couple long runs down to Venice.

Even though I've lived in Santa Monica for a half year now, it still sometimes amazes me how close I live to 3rd St. Promenade, the beach, and the famed boardwalk of Venice. I remember back when I was in high school, and my parents and I were looking at beach houses, and they instantaneously rejected a nice place near the Huntington Beach boardwalk due to the noise, crowds, etc. As a hormonal 16-year old, I was obviously disappointed, making the safe assumption that I'd never be remotely successful enough to buy/rent a place that close to the beach on my own. Well, whaddya know? Here I am, 5 blocks from the beach, and a short jog away from the Santa Monica Pier and the Venice boardwalk. Sure, it's loan checks paying the rent, but hey, I couldn't get loan checks unless I proved myself capable of paying them back someday, right? Rising subprime defaults my ass...

Ballin!

2007-02-19T20:19:00.000-08:00

I’ve decided today to take a break from what has recently been a lot of political commentaries I’ve been posting. Some of my readers who happen to live in places without democratic processes (Africa, Florida, lower castes, etc.) have mentioned how confused they are about my musings. So it’s back to the original purpose of the blog – a way to document some of my crazy, drunken weekends before I’m too old/senile to remember them.

In honor of Presidents G-Dub and Abe, I had a 4-day weekend this weekend, which, despite the many school and non-school related things I have to do, provided a nice excuse to leave town. After being shot down by friends in Boston and New York, I started looking at hotel rooms in Vegas. Unfortunately, even the cheapest hotel rooms were upwards of $200 a night and I realized that, with the NBA All-Stars and their entourages in town, there’s no way I’d get in to any of the clubs (strip or otherwise).

So Thursday evening, I headed to Long Beach airport to catch my flight to the Bay Area. The trip would give me a chance to party with Aashish on his birthday, re-connect with other friends, as well as milk my own birthday for some free food and beverages. Unfortunately, karma from all the things I’ve done/said/thought in recent weeks caught up to me that night. Moron that I am, I didn’t call JetBlue before making my way to the airport (I feel like even when flights are delayed, the jackasses running the airlines don’t announce it until like 5 minutes before departure time). Alas, as I checked my bag, the skycap informed me that my 8:15 p.m. flight had been delayed til 1:30 a.m. Fuck me. Are flights even allowed to take off and land that late? I stood in line to ask that very question, and was told that the flight would indeed take place. Knowing that I would miss Thursday night’s festivities regardless, I debated switching to a Friday morning flight so I could at least get a proper night’s rest. Unfortunately, the only flight available for Friday was at 6 p.m., and for obvious reasons, I didn’t really trust that the flight would occur as scheduled. So I stuck it out, sat in the airport’s “bar”, watched Kobe vs. LeBron, and did some homework. At about 10 p.m., the inevitable announcement came. The flight had been cancelled. Fuck me, part deux. Once again, I stuck it out in line for like 45 minutes, and the agent told me they could re-book me on a flight on Saturday morning (the Friday 6 p.m. flight had already filled up at this point). Well, considering I had a flight back to Long Beach on Sunday morning, flying up on Saturday morning didn’t make a whole lot of sense. So I cancelled my flight, bitched and moaned for 30 minutes until they finally agreed to pay for a shuttle back to my parents’ house so I could get my car, grabbed my bag, and got the hell out of there. During this time, baller Gaurav stepped up and generously donated a free Southwest flight to me, and booked me on a flight from LAX on Friday morning.

Fast forward to Friday at 3 p.m., and finally I was sitting in G’s apartment in San Francisco. The drinking started a couple hours later when G got home from work, and didn’t stop until late Saturday night. Friday night started off with dinner at Mangarosa, a Brazilian-Italian place, which was disappointing in many respects. Given the fact that Brazilians and Italians are 2 of the hottest ethnicities, and the whole “mutts are hotter” theory, I was looking forward to some amazing waitresses. Instead, we got a male waiter who took 20 minutes to get us our drinks, and on top of that we were branded to the colored section of the restaurant, which even had a curtain they could close in case any non-colored patrons complained that our presence was diminishing their dining pleasure. But the food and drinks were pretty good, and overall I give the experience a solid B rating, which might have been a B+ if Deepa wasn’t bitching about her food the whole time.

After dinner we headed to a club called Larry’s. Or at least that’s what I’m calling it. After a few drinks and a lap dance from a hot blonde who kept talking about Disneyland, we headed to\ Cigar Bar for a friend of a friend’s birthday party. If “Cigar Bar” sounds cool, I apologize for the false advertising. The definite low-light of the trip (excluding the Thursday night experience). At around 1:30 or 2, we headed back to Larry’s (hey, our hands were stamped, so we might as well get our money’s worth). I was pretty hammered at this point, so the only thing I actually remember was G buying a lappie for a female friend, and the female friend sitting still with a horrified look on her face throughout the dance. There goes $20 G will never see again. Ballin!

Saturday was an absolutely beautiful day, particularly for mid-February. So, after we all finally agreed on a brunch spot, we headed out, ate some eggs, and downed a couple excellent Bloody Marys (City Tavern I believe is the name of the place – highly recommended $5 bloody marys on Saturdays, and pretty good food). From there, the fun began. After finally getting up from our table after spending 20 minutes not-so-conspicuously gawking at the white girls at the table next to us, we walked over to Bar None to pretend we were frat boys, and I must say we did a pretty good job. After warming up with a quick game of Flip Cup (in which G and I DOMINATED Anuj and Vijay), we played a few games of Beer Pong while gawking at the very same white girls, who also ended up at Bar None. Overall, the 5 of us downed 9 pitchers in around 3 or 4 hours. Despite this, we thought picking up a huge bottle of Jager on the walk back to the car was a good idea. We also thought buying $35 worth of food at KFC/Taco Bell was a good idea. I guess that’s what happens after you drink an average of 1.8 pitchers per person – things like Communism, women’s suffrage, and tremendous amounts of greasy food start to look like good ideas.

After sleeping through All-Star Saturday (which we did NOT TiVo – good job, G), we reluctantly rallied to head out to triple-birthday party action at Mr. Smith’s. The night got off to a bad start as we could not find a cab if our life depended on it. For a while I thought we’d have better luck getting to the bar on a JetBlue flight. Alas, we lucked out by flagging down an empty limo - $35 to the bar. Ballin! Unfortunately, there was no liquor in the limo – at least none we could drink – and we didn’t look like ballers as we (we being 4 dudes) exited the limo right in front of the line to the bar. Awk…ward. Anyways, we waited in line for a few minutes, with me and Vijay wondering aloud to each other why some bitch we know came to the club in a bathrobe. We walked in, strolled downstairs where our friends were, and the party started, albeit slowly. The bar was insanely packed to the point where we were pretty much forced into conversations with whoever we happened to be standing next to. If I wanted to be imprisoned in bad conversations, I would have just spent the weekend at my parents’ house. Or with half the girls I USED to date. Finally, after a few Grey Gooses and a couple shots (and an hour or so of God-awful music), things started to pick up. At around 1:30, G and I made the drunken decision to ditch the party to meet up with Anuj and Vijay at the local Indian party. We made a quick stop at the deli for a Jager shooter and small bottle of Goose, which we promptly downed in the cab, and got to the club a little before 2. After initially being denied entrance, we were eventually waved in by Anuj and Vijay, who had paid off the bouncers when they got in an hour earlier. Ballin! After that, the club gets a bit hazy – that’s what happens when you pound Grey Goose in a cab at 1:30 in the morning.

By 3, the KFC had finally settled and we exited the club in a quest for food. Despite my insistence on just finding a local diner and eating some eggs, G insisted on taking us to a late-night Korean BBQ spot in Seoul. Or on the opposite side of the city, either way it was far. The highlight by far was G’s decision to bring with him to the restaurant a full bottle of Jager, which he proceeded to share with some random guy at the table next to us. The random guy seemed to enjoy the nightcap. The girl who probably was gonna have to “wait” for him later that night did not seem as pleased. Things finally settled down, and we housed some chicken and kimchee and rice and whatever else it is that was on the plate in front of me.

The rest of the trip was essentially sleep, a hangover, some Katt Williams stand-up comedy on TV, brunch at a pretty good Italian spot near G’s apartment, and an hour-long debate Anuj had with himself as to whether to leave in the afternoon and thus miss the All-Star Game or to watch the game in SF and leave at like 8 p.m. We ended up making the hindsight-is-20-20 wise decision to leave at around 2:30. But, in an homage to the weekend, rather than the standard Carl’s Jr. or In N Out stop, we decided to go upscale and eat at El Torito so we could watch the end of the All-Star Game.

Ballin!

An Op-Ed Piece for Fox News

2007-02-12T22:29:00.000-08:00

This post is primarily dedicated to Bhargavi, who in response to my latest post, accused me of being "flaming-liberal" (not to be confused with her fellow Briton John Amaechi)

Anyways, just so no one can accuse me of subjectively posting stories that validate my leftward leanings, I wanted to post this article, and with it, a kudos to the Bush administration. No, I'm not referring to those granola bars we all ate when we were kids, along with Fruit-Roll-Ups and Squeez-It Juice Drinks. But I mean kudos as in "props", "good job", etc. While the deal is tentative, it appears that some significant progress has been made on the North Koran nuclear situation. And in what must come as a shock to anyone that has followed U.S. foreign policy over the last 6+ years, it actually seems to benefit both the U.S. and its international allies. See what happens when you use a combination of diplomacy and carrots/sticks, as compared to invading and bombing people just for the hell of it? Lesson learned? I hope so.

The value of 3,000+ American lives

2007-02-05T20:14:00.000-08:00

By now, some of you may have heard this story or come across this article. Just shocking.

To date, the war in Iraq has cost over 3,000 American lives and probably many, many more lives of Iraqi civilians. These numbers seem to grow by the hour, or at least as often as I get a chance to check cnn.com. Costs to taxpayers like me (before I quit my job) and you have totaled hundreds of billions of dollars. The Bush administration recently asked Congress for an additional $245 billion to cover the costs of the conflict through 2008.

For THIS?!

I ask - correction, I DARE anyone to please comment (anonymously if you wish) on what benefits all of this have yielded for us Americans, or for the world more broadly.

A safer country/world from terrorism? Questionable as to what the impact has been in the US (as compared to other Homeland Security measures). Terrorism continues to happen elsewhere in the world, and of course we read daily about insurgent attacks in Iraq.

A free and democratic Iraq? To state the average Iraqi is better off now than he or she was 4 years ago is debatable at best. As for democracy? Well, let's just say it's had better results here in the States than it has in Iraq. Apparently, a convicted Embassy bomber has been voted into Parliament - as part of the Prime Minister's Ruling Coalition no less. His seat in Parliament gives him immunity from prosecution. Of course I haven't even mentioned yet the fact that this guy has somehow evaded justice for 23+ years. Who exactly has been trying to capture him all this time???

Despite all this, the Bush administration and the Republican Congressional Minority is unwilling to even debate the merits of the war, or to consider alternative strategies for a lesser American role. They accuse anti-war activists of supporting a "cut and run" strategy. I accuse them of supporting a failed strategy, and of jeapordizing our troops and our taxpayers every single day.

Is this plagiarism?

2007-02-03T10:15:00.000-08:00

Well, whatever. I'm not getting paid for this or graded on it, so even if it is, fuck it. No original material today. Just wanted to refer you all to Ali's blog, where he's pretty much summed up my opinions on the topic. Enjoy. And stop eating you fat fuc*ers.

I think it moved

2007-01-24T10:44:00.000-08:00

Just kidding. TOTALLY kidding. Anyways, today felt like an appropriate day to comment on one of the most undesirable recent changes to my life. Worst than homework, study groups, lack of a paycheck, LA traffic, etc.

Communal showering. Let me make this clear. I’m not showering WITH anyone. Just the whole public showering in the locker room of the gym deal. I’ve been doing this on most weekdays since orientation started in mid-September, and trust me, it’s not something you get used to. The sporadic hot water, the little plastic soap-holder that we all had decades ago when we were living in college dorms, tiny little bath towels. But, given my hectic and unpredictable afternoon and evening schedule, the only alternative is to wake up an hour earlier and drive all the way back home to shower after working out, and all the way back to campus for class. And frankly, I’m not willing to sacrifice that amount of espn.com or Seinfeld time.

So my new daily schedule consists of working out, taking a short-as-possible shower (usually 5 minutes) within eyeshot of a bunch of wrinkly old and fat men, and then getting dressed and heading to campus. And then when I get home, since I kinda rush through the morning shower, I always take another shower. Not the most efficient use of time, but again, no real alternatives outside of cutting down my workout schedule and subsequently turning into one of those wrinkly old fat men I spoke about earlier.

But today, oh man, today, something unpredictable and just horrifying happened. The shower I went to had a bunch of body wash/lotion bottles in the shower-rack thingy, but I figured someone just left their empty bottles there so I went ahead and started my business. Then. God. It’s tough to re-live this. Then, as I was finishing up the shower, I hear a male voice saying something to the effect of “Excuse me, do you mind if I grab my stuff from the shower rack?” WTF???!!! Did this (naked) guy really just ask me (another naked guy) if he could squeeze through and get his stuff??? Did the thought ever occur to him to wait until the shower was free? Or to just let it go and buy some new body wash??? It was a horrific experience and I’m surprised I was able to get out any words at all. I told the guy that I was almost done and to wait a few seconds and then quickly, knees trembling, turned off the shower and grabbed my towel and got the hell out of there.

Seriously. It did NOT move. I swear.

Forgive me if this is a bit incoherent...

2007-01-13T20:58:00.000-08:00

but i'm kinda buzzed right now. And i'm definitely disillusioned. My beloved Eagles just lost to "America's team", the New Orleans Saints. And we lost in just horrible, gut-wrenching fashion. I can't even summarize what happened, because if I try to re-live it, I'll probably vomit all over my laptop.

As I was trading texts during the game with my friend and fellow Eagles' fan Rishi, I asked him if he ever enjoys the actual game. He said no, and that's how I feel as well. Sure, I jump up and down, chest-bump, and celebrate when the Eagles score or make a big defensive play. But for the other 2 hours and 57 minutes of the game, I'm sitting there with my stomach churning and hands shaking. I honestly don't remember the last time I sat back and enjoyed an entire Eagles game. Probably a month or so ago, when our season looked like it was over, so there was really nothing to lose. Then we went on a nice little roll behind Gay Garcia (not that there's anything wrong with that), winning our last 5 regular season games, including sweeping our 3 division rivals, all on the road, in consecutive weeks. We won the division and beat the mediocre New York football Giants in the Wild Card game last Sunday. What did it all culminate in? Another loss. Just like every other fucking season.

Honestly, I WISH I wasn't an Eagles fan. I wish I wasn't a fan of ANY sports team. The highs are great but so short-lived. The lows are low, painful, and enduring. I'm sitting here at home while all my friends are drinking and getting ready to go out and party. It is, after all, Saturday night. But I can't even imagine going out and trying to have a good time right now. Good times are the last thing on my mind.

In closing, I'm sure there's a bunch of Eagles fans out there saying or thinking something like, "If we had to lose, I'm glad we lost to the Saints" because of all that's happened to the unfortunate residents of the city of New Orleans over the last year and a half. Am I thinking that? Fuck no. Have fun celebrating in your dirty, miserable city. Yeah, go ahead and call me a prick. If you know me, you know I don't give a fuck what you think. Fuck. FUCK!

Happy New Year

2007-01-06T19:19:00.000-08:00

I know, more than a few days late. But I hope everyone had as happy and unsafe a New Years as I did. Anyways, I've truly enjoyed the rest of my vacation. Since I last blogged, I've spent time in LA, Miami, and, of course, Vegas. Here are some of the highlights:

- Cal's 45-10 drubbing of Texas A&M. Shut up Big 12 fans.

- USC's 32-18 dribbing of Michigan. Shut up Rematch Proponents.

- "David" Boise State's THRILLING Overtime victory over "Goliath" Oklahoma. Again, shut up Big 12 fans. I really do feel bad for the Oklahoma fans though. They're the only ones who didn't get to enjoy one of the best college football games in my lifetime. The Oklahoma bettors too, but I don't feel bad for them. Gambling is bad. Stay away. More on this later.

Ok those were just the sports highlights. To the real fun stuff:

- Amit walking around South Beach - including on the beach itself - in jeans, a polo shirt, and dress shirt. Smooth.

- Happy Hours at the Clevelander. If you're ever in South Beach - trust me. Good crowd, good drinks, NFL Sunday Ticket, and amazing bikini runway shows. I could have done without the multiple guys jocking me because of my Eagles jersey though.

- Running into randoms in Miami (or anywhere for that matter). I still find it cool that I almost always run into someone I know no matter what city I'm in.

- Partying, quite literally, on the beach for New Year's Eve. We went to Nikki Beach for the evening, which is basically a small indoor restaurant/lounge that leads into a huge outdoor area, complete with its own private beach. Amazing girls, views, and atmosphere. Too bad I celebrated with 4 guys. I love you guys, but still. Fuck.

- Miraculously losing 4 different bets on a single football game. I hate you Wake Forest, and I hate you Louisville. That's what I get for betting on a football game involving two big-time basketball programs. Damn Title IX screwing everything up.

- Quote of the year (through 7 days) As I, in a drunken haze, apparently ignored a "dancer" on stage, she looks and says to me: "You don't like my tits? Maybe I don't like your face." Ouch. Nothing more demeaning than getting insulted by someone who works solely on tips.

- Blackjack sucks. I think I played an entire shoe at one point without winning a hand. I honestly didn't know that was possible. Fuck.

- If you weren't sure whether ordering porn at 4am was always a bad idea, take note. It is ALWAYS a bad idea.

- I had one of the worst hangovers of my life on Wednesday, after waking up from a night in Vegas. This was depressing on a whole multitude of levels. Firstly, we didn't even stay out THAT late. As I mentioned above, we were back in the room at 4am. Secondly, we only had one day in Vegas. Given our 730pm flight, waking up at noon by myself, with a throbbing headache and empty wallet was not my idea of an eye opener. Most importantly, I never feel hungover in Vegas. Whether it's all the air they pump into the casinos, anxiousness to drink/gamble more, or just the adrenaline from being there, I always seem to wake up OK when I'm in Vegas, regardless of how much I've drank or how little I've slept. So this was definitely one of those "Fuck, I'm old" moments.

The Seahawks just failed on a 4th and Goal conversion. Looks like the hated Cowboys are going to advance to the 2nd round of the Playoffs. More importantly, I think this is like the 7th straight sports bet I have lost. What a waste of time spending all those hours on espn.com. WOW! Seattle just tied it on a fumble recovery in the end zone. I'm sure this is gonna be challenged. Here's to keeping my fingers crossed and hoping the Cowboys lose.

Happy Holidays

2006-12-25T18:42:00.000-08:00

Hey all...don't really have anything to write about...school is out, all the Congressmen are home, not legislating (i don't think that has anything to do with the holidays though)...not really much to write about outside of Capital One Bowl Week. Anyways, just wanted to say Merry Xmas, Happy New Years, blah blah blah. I'm off to Miami in a few days and will hopefully have some interesting, PG stories upon my return. In the meantime, enjoy some pics of Mia's first Christmas. Oh yeah, Go Eagles!!!

Who Says I'm Risk Averse?

2006-12-07T17:47:00.000-08:00

OK fine, I AM risk averse. But I’m going out on a limb here and taking, probably, the biggest chance I’ve ever taken with my blog. At this point, as I write this, I’m honestly not even sure if I should post this, because this could kill me in so many ways. But it’s (to me), an interesting topic, and I have strong feelings about it, so I feel I must do my journalistic duty.

I was inspired to write this by a fellow classmate’s question, as I sit here in an Economics Review Session. To keep this as anonymous as possible, I won’t even repeat the question. Basically, it just reiterated most of what I’ve thought over the past couple months about my experience so far at Anderson: disappointment.

Before I rant, let me be clear about a couple things. I’m not throwing anyone “under the bus” here. Frankly, there’s a lot of blame to be spread around. Also, I do not (yet) regret my decision to attend business school generally or Anderson specifically. I needed to leave New York, and I needed to find a buy-side job in L.A. I also needed a break from work and an opportunity to expand both my professional and social networks. Anderson was clearly the best of my options.

My disappointment started as early as Orientation. And I’m not just talking about the fact that we had to be on campus every day at 8 a.m. In various presentations from Anderson administration and second-year students, I discovered that Anderson students had a general reputation as being light on quantitative skills. Nice talk for “bad at math”. Then I found out that some of our second-years don’t know how to write cover letters, to the point that recruiters who are Anderson alums have contacted the Parker Career Center to express their concerns about the reputational harm being done to Anderson. Fantastic. One of the biggest reasons I came to Anderson was to crack my way into the Investment Management industry. Seems like having “Anderson” on my resume isn’t the best start.

During the second week of Orientation, I found out I was awarded a company-sponsored fellowship. Woohoo!!! More money!!! Unfortunately, Anderson’s policy on these fellowships is to simply take the money out of any other merit-based aid you have received. So the $7,125 Payden & Rygel Fellowship that I won was simply deducted from my Anderson Fellowship. On top of this, no one actually told me about this policy until I went into the financial aid office to clear the whole mess up. Not so Woohoo :( What better way to alienate our loyal, generous donors than to say, “Thanks for the kind donation. On a net basis, this is going to mean absolutely nothing to the winner of the Fellowship, but this means we have an extra $7,125 to spend on unqualified, tenured professors.”

There’s my second disappointment. The Professors. If any of my classmates happen to stumble on this (which I will pray tonight doesn’t happen), they’ll know who I’m referring to. Of the 5 professors I’ve had this quarter, I’d say 3 were good professors who taught us the material and, as corny as it sounds, made learning kinda fun. I think my classmates agree about 2 of them. The fourth was clearly incompetent, to the point that many of my classmates would sit in on the other professor’s lecture. The fifth basically taught us how to manipulate a certain software product to do our work for us rather than teaching us the basic concepts and theory of the subject.

I save my biggest (and most controversial) disappointment for last. My fellow classmates. I’m trying very hard to keep in mind that most of them, unlike me, haven’t had the benefit of seeing most of this “core” material before. This lack of relevant background notwithstanding, I’m still disappointed with the book intelligence of most of my classmates. Until proven guilty, I’m going to assume that most of them were pretty good at their jobs, and that’s why they’re here. And I know book smarts are not at the top of the list of characteristics of successful businesspeople. However, I expected a minimum level of these book smarts from my classmates, and so far I haven’t seen it.

Last, but definitely not least (yeah, I know I said the previous disappointment was the last – deal with it), is what happened yesterday. Sometime in the afternoon, we FINALLY got our Marketing grades (posted online). While I pretty much expected to get the grade that I received, several classmates that I spoke with were quite surprised about their grades, given how well they had been doing up through the Final. About six hours, many data points, and some frantic emails from students to the professor later, the truth was discovered. The professor had never submitted final grades to be posted online. The system somehow decided to distribute grades based on last names. So if your last name started with an A, you would have been pretty happy because you got an A. If you’re Notre Dame safety/Professional boxer Tom Zbikowski, you failed. Better luck elsewhere. So surely there were several freaked out Y’s and Z’s who were surprised that they failed (not to mention the few pleasantly-surprised A’s and B’s who got A’s in the course). The process is currently being fixed, as the professor just arrived back from an international trip a couple hours ago. How in the world does something like this happen? My disappointment lingers.

UPDATE: I just got home from a Review Session. Not only were there about 25 more students than there were chairs, but the prof/TA leading the review session was high as a kite. Go Anderson!

UPDATE II: You may have read about someone hacking into a UCLA database and stealing personal info (including SSN's) on approx. 800,000 current and former students. Yup, you guessed it. They got mine. F*ck.

“The James Bond of Laundry”

2006-11-28T17:09:00.000-08:00

“So, anybody leaves anything here, you can just take it? You have a license to steal? You are like the James Bond of laundry?”
The above is a quote from one of the very first episodes of Seinfeld. Don’t worry – this isn’t another Seinfeld-centric post like the one about Michael Richards. Rather, it’s a laundry-centric post, (dry cleaners to be specific, but they also do wash and fold laundry, so I figure it’s all the same).

The story begins last Monday, when I dropped off some clothes at the dry cleaners (Flair Cleaners, on Montana and Lincoln) – a suit, some slacks, a bunch of dress shirts. You might ask why I have so much dry cleaning given that I’m a student in Los Angeles. Sometimes I wonder the same damn thing when I’m sitting in a company presentation or at a networking event. But so is the life on an MBA student. I’ve signed up for it, first quarter tuition is paid, and most importantly, I quit my job. So I don’t really have much of a choice.

Fast forward past the Thanksgiving holiday to Saturday. Knowing I have a couple “dress for success” type events in the coming week, I make a quick run to Flair to pick up said dry cleaning. I give the cashier my 3 tickets (why can cleaners never seem to consolidate a large order on a single ticket?), and he goes off to the “conveyor belt” to retrieve my clothes. He comes back shortly with my shirts, but no slacks or suit. “I also dropped off a suit and some slacks,” I say. He looks at the ticket once again, and goes back to the conveyor belt. A few minutes pass. My first “Jesus F*cking Christ” comes in a soft whisper to myself. A few more minutes pass. “What’s going on?” I ask. “The suit isn’t where it’s supposed to be,” is the reply. No f*cking kidding. It’s been 5 minutes. The suit is SUPPOSED to be hanging from the hooks in the backseat of my car by now. This time the “Jesus F*cking Christ” is loud enough for another customer to turn, look at me, and roll my eyes in a Mel Gibson kinda way. The guy then asks if I wanna wait while they look for it. I assume this is a 10-20 minute process at worst, so I decide to wait it out. After ten minutes, I temporarily give up and head to Vons to pick up some alcohol. For later that night, I promise. I even tried to play the karma game, buying a chocolate bar from a girl scout for the outrageous price of $2.50. Return to the cleaners. Nada. I wait for a few more minutes, when some other guy tells me the first guy is looking at some video to figure out where they put my suit. Now, I’m no IT expert – but wouldn’t it be easier to track the location of clothes with some sort of computer system rather than a soon-to-be-out-of-our-vocabulary “VHS system”? Increasingly frustrated and impatient and due at my sister’s in an hour to hang with the family, I tell the guy to call me when they find my suit and storm off.

Sunday, 11:30 a.m.: Having not heard yet from the brainiacs at Flair yet, I give them a call to check in. A woman answers, I explain the situation quickly, and she puts me on hold to go look for the suit. She comes back a minute later saying “The ticket has a location on it, but the suit isn’t there.” Really? You think? She tells me she’ll start looking for it. This infuriates me. “So does this mean if I didn’t call you guys right now to check on my suit, that no one would ever start looking for it?” She explains that she just got in, and the guys from Saturday didn’t leave a note. Thanks a lot. She tells me she’ll look for it and call me when she found it. Needless to say, my confidence is waning.

Monday, 8 a.m.: Having (unsurprisingly) not heard from the cleaners on Sunday, I call them again. Different woman, same answer. My clothes have not been found. “Is anyone currently looking for them?” “No.” “So, if I hadn’t called right now, you guys would have just not looked for it and not called me?” “I just got in, and no one told me about this.” “I need to speak to a manager, because obviously unless I keep calling you guys, no one is going to ever look for my suit.” “The manager will be in in an hour.” “Thanks.” (click)

Monday, 9:50 a.m.: I call ONCE AGAIN. The same woman tells me that she has not been able to find my clothes. I demand to speak to the manager who, believe it or not, is actually in. I feel like progress is being made! I again ask why the hell they seem to stop looking for my clothes repeatedly until I call them. Now, I am told that my clothes likely got mixed up with those of another customer. They have apparently tried to contact this (likely fictional) customer twice but have not heard back. On top of this, the prick basically tells me to wait for them to call me, and for me to stop calling so often. I guess he doesn’t realize why I might view missing clothes as a bit of a problem. He remains “confident” that this “customer” has my clothes and that they will be recovered – if not, I will be compensated. For whatever reason, I’m not as confident as the manager that my clothes will ever be seen again. Nor am I confident that they will reimburse me for the amount that I paid for the clothes. Am I really supposed to keep my receipt for a 3-year old suit? (Sidenote: did the guy/girl who supposedly has my suit just intend to keep it? Like, “Sweet! Free suit!” Good luck fitting into a 36-regular.)

Tuesday, 5 p.m.: The time is now. I haven’t heard from the cleaners since I last called them yesterday morning. I don’t even have the energy to bitch on a daily basis anymore, so I’m gonna take today off, save up the rage, and have fun with it tomorrow morning. Oh, did I mention that this is currently my only suit, since I seem to have misplaced the pants to my other suit? Please save the obvious “missing pants” jokes. They’re not at my boyfriend’s place, or in a strip club somewhere in Vegas. Maybe they’re at your mom’s house.

Something I’m Thankful For

2006-11-24T10:33:00.001-08:00

Apologies for the late “Thanksgiving” post, but I’ve spent the last couple of days at the ‘rents, where internet access is, well, nonexistent. Admittedly, that’s one thing I’m thankful for. I find myself much more productive and relaxed when I’m away from the Web for a couple of days, even though I find myself regularly checking my email on my cellphone, buying the newspaper to stay on top of current events, and glued to ESPNEWS for the latest in sports. I still figure I save at least an hour or two a day by avoiding Google Chat, mindless email exchanges, and moderately insightful columns on espn.com

Anyways, back to the inspiration for this post. As I sit here, it’s Thursday morning, and I’m enjoying the LA Times (to the extent the LA Times can be enjoyed), my morning 7-11 coffee, and watching the Lions vs. the Dolphins in the opener of a NFL Thanksgiving TRIPLEHEADER (I guess that’s the second thing I’m thankful for).

So I was just reading a story in the Times, about how, effective January 23, US citizens traveling from Canada, Mexico, and most Caribbean islands, must present passports to re-enter the US. Previously, citizens have simply needed to show driver’s licenses or another form of photo ID. Honestly, until reading this story, I didn’t even know there were these current exemptions. Why should people be allowed to go to ANY other country without having to show a passport upon return? Although I guess this policy must slightly reduce the enormous number of people crossing our “protected” borders illegally. (sidenote: now that the elections are over, can Congress PLEASE get moving on overhauling our immigration policy?)

So the REAL inspiration for this longer-than-I-expected post is the following quote: “The Department of Homeland Security estimates that one in four Americans already has a passport”. One in four! 25%! I found this statistic amazing. My first overseas trip was when I was 5, when my family and I went on a Mexican cruise. I realize now that I probably didn’t need a passport for that trip, nor for our visit to Eastern Canada when I was 7. But by the age of 9, I MUST have had a passport, because we went to Australia, New Zealand, Fiji and Tahiti (yeah, I was kinda spoiled as a kid, and in hindsight really wish I was mature enough to appreciate these trips, but, hey, I was freaking 9 years old!). So to think that 3 out of 4 American citizens have not left the continent legally simply amazes me, and makes me thankful for the opportunities I’ve had to travel. I mean, I’m only 26 years old (liberal use of the term “only”) and I’ve already been to 19 countries on 5 continents (hoping to add South America very soon and Antarctica never). Sometimes I take for granted how lucky I’ve been, and then I come across an article in the Times, which makes me realize how red-necked and land-locked the rest of my fellow citizens are.

Happy (belated) Thanksgiving everyone.

Disappointing

2006-11-20T16:11:00.000-08:00

I'm sure many of you have already heard/read about Michael Richards' (aka Kramer) recent racial tirade.

All I can say is "disgusting". I had read the NY Times article about the controversy but wanted to watch the video as well before writing this, to make sure I was going in with full information. But I actually had to stop within 30 seconds of the video because I couldn't stand what I was seeing.

You all know I'm a HUGE Seinfeld fan. And, like all Seinfeld fans, Kramer is one of the biggest, if not the biggest, reason why I watch the show religously on weekdays between 10-11pm rather than studying or doing anything else productive.

As far as I know, Richards has yet to apologize for his despicable display of racial insensitivity. I can only imagine what kind of drugs/alcohol he might have been on at the time, but clearly there's no excuse for what he's done, and no apology can rectify it. It's really sad to see one of the stars of such a ground-breaking, outside-the-box series revert back to traditional, historical stereotypes and epithets. While I can never give up Seinfeld, I'm staging my version of a sit-in tonight, and boycotting the 10-11pm episodes. Maybe I'll actually get some work done.

Title IX is in full effect...

2006-11-08T08:59:00.000-08:00

OK, that was a lame and probably sexist reference to the fact that US Congresswoman Nancy Pelosi (D-CA) is set to become the first female Speaker of the House, as the Democrats won more than enough seats last night to take control of the chamber. They might even surprise the political pundits (is the word "pundit" ever used without the word "political" before it?) and take the Senate.

I really don't have a whole lot to say about the election, but I figure most of you were expecting me to write something about it, so here goes.

Honestly, the first thing I thought when I realized Pelosi will be Speaker wasn't anything related to her gender. I was just happy that the leader of the House will be representing the great state of California. Hopefully the benefits she can bring Californians at the national level will offset the harm Arnie will do to us at the state level.

Speaking of Californians, sometimes I just don't understand them. They're overwhelmingly Democrats and socially liberal. Yet they continue to elect Republican governors. And yesterday they passed a massive $40+ billion bond bill to fund transportation, housing, schools, and levees. Yet they voted against several tax hikes, including some that would seem relatively popular - a tax on oil companies and a tax on cigarette purchases. Econ lesson - "sin" taxes like those on cigs and liquor are good. Why? Because it doesn't matter how much cigs or alcohol costs. People still buy them. Hence, high tax revenues for the government. To fund, I dunno, maybe transportation, housing, schools, and levees. Now who do you think will be paying off the $40+ billion in bonds? If you said you (assuming you're relatively young, and a Californian) and me, congratulations, you're a winner. I voted against all but one of the bonds and now I'll be stuck paying the bills if I ever finish school and actually get a job. Thanks voters.

Incumbent George Allen (R-VA) is locked neck-in-neck with Jim Webb for a Senate seat. Allen, for those of you that don't follow politics, is the guy who referred to one of Webb's Indian staffers as "macaca" (a breed of monkey) a few months back. Just the kinda guy we need in D.C. Allen's currently trailing by a mere 6,000 votes, and will almost certainly demand a recount if he's declared the loser. Note to Allen: You're a loser, and you'll always be a loser.

Minnesotans elected the country's first Muslim Congressmen. Good for them. I'm extremely surprised that there had never been a Muslim in Congress before.

7 more states passed gay marriage bans, bringing the total to 27 (Arizonans defeated a gay marriage ban). Again, I ask, WHO THE F*CK CARES???!!!

I also have to eat a little crow for a previous post. In Missouri, voters approved a stem-cell research measure, as Michael J. Fox apparently trumpets Jeff Suppan and Kurt Warner.

Now, we wait for the official results. And then the stalemate between Bush and Congress begins.

Happy Anniversary

2006-11-01T07:54:00.000-08:00

To me. Today marks the one-year anniversary of my blog. In my humble opinion, I think the blog (and myself, for that matter) have come quite a ways in 12 months. Looking back on my earliest blog entries, there was a list of my favorite drinks (which for the most part has stayed the same, although I never drink G&T’s anymore), a recap of my trip to the Bay Area, some “Random Thoughts”, and a tribute to Chango (one of my personal favorite posts of all time).

More recent entries have been my diatribes on business school, politics, the idiocacy of non-profit organizations and their staffs, and a lot of travel notes (generally much more insightful than the “I spent 48 hours straight drunk off my ass in Vegas”).

Similarly, in the real world, I’ve progressed quite a bit. Then: drunk finance-industry employee going to work, collecting paychecks, and not remembering most of the weekends. Now: drunk business school student going to class, collecting (hopefully) good grades, and not remembering most of the weekends. Damn. I guess some things never change. But in all seriousness, a lot’s happened since then. I got into business school (and got rejected by some), said goodbye to New York, hello to London for a few months, welcomed my beautiful baby niece Mia into the world, climbed one tall-ass mountain amongst other interesting African travels, moved to LA, bought a sweet little ride, had a football thrown at (not “to”) me by some drunk hick in Knoxville, moved into an apartment in my dream location, and started business school. So I guess it only follows that I would have more interesting things to write about.

I want to take this opportunity to thank all my readers. I know there’s not a lot of you, but many have been loyal, regular readers since Day One. Others have been more sporadic – it’s you people that I have in mind when I write. I hope to be interesting/smart/thought-provoking/entertaining enough to turn you into regulars as well.

Here’s to another good year ahead.

Happy Halloween

2006-10-31T17:23:00.000-08:00

Nothing to write today. Just some pics of Mia since it's been a while. I know what you're thinking. How is someone this ridiculously adorable even remotely related to me? I'm not sure.

Smart Politics

2006-10-25T16:10:00.000-07:00

The Republicans have done it again. Those of you that know me know that I’m a pretty loyal Democrat (to be honest, I’m really more of an anti-conservative who is frustrated with the lack of choices in U.S. politics). The Republicans aren’t popular right now. The Senate and House are both, according to most political experts, up for grabs on November 7. Unfortunately, I don’t have confidence that the Democrats are even going to take back the Senate OR the House. Why? While I strongly disagree with most Republicans on policy (particularly on social issues – who cares if John wants to marry Mark instead of Marcia?), I have tremendous respect for their ability to play politics intelligently.

Case in point #1: The November 2004 elections. Utah, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Georgia, and Kentucky, Michigan, Mississippi, Montana, North Dakota, and, most importantly, Ohio, all had same-sex marriage bans on the ballot. Primarily Republican states, with a couple swing states in Michigan and Ohio. What happened? Christian conservatives rushed to the voting polls, Bush took 8 of the 10 states, including Ohio, which he won by around 118,000 votes out of a total of 5.6 million cast (51%-49% over Kerry). With it, he took the 20 electoral votes and thus the election (Kerry would have won if he carried Ohio). To make things worst, the same-sex marriage bans passed in all 10 states.

More recent case in point: Read this article. While I don’t know all the details, there’s a stem-cell research initiative on the state ballot, and in response to Democrats rolling out a national celebrity in Michael J. Fox, the Republicans have returned the punch with state celebrities. Kurt Warner…MVP of Superbowl XXXIII or some other Roman numerals. Jeff Suppan…MVP of the NLCS that just ended on Thursday. These guys are local heroes campaigning against a local initiative. I’m not sure what the poll numbers looked like before these ad campaigns, but I’d be willing to bet my business school salary (all $0 of it) that the initiative doesn’t pass.

Well played, Republicans.

There’s a reason they’re called non-profits

2006-10-13T13:57:00.000-07:00

It’s because these morons probably couldn’t turn a profit if their lives depended on it (fortunately for them, it’s not their lives, but the lives of those less fortunate, that actually do depend on it).

To explain why I’m writing about this, I’ll just summarize part of my Friday morning (aka “my day off”)

7:15 a.m. Wake up (I’m just used to waking up early, and there’s always sooooo much to do)

7:15 – 9:00 Brush, shower, check email, surf the web, eat breakfast, buy some stuff from Staples, get some coffee from 7-11 (very good coffee, at less than half the price of Starfucks)

9:00 – 10:00 Drive to Deloitte’s office downtown for volunteer training. Pay $12 to park. For volunteer training. I’ve already spent more money than I did yesterday. Fantastic.

10:00 Show up at the 18th floor of Deloitte’s office for training. Here’s where the non-profit comes in. Junior Achievement is the name of the non-profit organizing this training session and next week’s volunteer event at a local elementary school. The training session is scheduled for 10-11a.m.

10:05 Continue to sit there, chatting with classmates and some Deloitte employees. Still not being trained.

10:10 The “trainer” passes out some registration forms. Tells us that we will all be getting “kits” which include the materials we need for the activities. Tells us that some of the kits are not yet available (e.g. for those of us who will be assigned to teach the 3rd graders). We fill out the registration form (as well as signing a form promising not to have any inappropriate contact with the students. Why don’t Congressmen have to sign such forms????)

10:15 More disarray. Start chatting with neighbors a little more. Send a couple text messages. Enjoy my $12 diet coke.

10:20 We start getting “assigned” to various grades. First I’m randomly assigned 5th grade and given a kit; instructed NOT to open the kit.

10:25 Done with my diet coke. Go to the restroom and get a bottle of water. Lowers the average cost of my “free” beverages to $6 each.

10:35 I am unassigned from 5th grade. We are instructed that the UCLA students there are NOT to take any kits home with us – they are for the Deloitte employees (each of us is partnered with a Deloitte employee). How are we supposed to read the materials and know exactly what we’re supposed to do when we get there?

10:40 I realize the Deloitte employee I’m sitting next to might not be able to show up next week at the actual volunteering event. So, I’m left without a partner. Story of my fucking life.

10:45 I’m assigned to the 3rd grade, and to a partner who happens to be a classmate, not a Deloitte employee. She’s not here (she went to an earlier training session, I HOPE). Does she have a kit? I wonder.

10:50 Training starts. Woohoo! Finally!!!

10:55 The trainer acknowledges that she only has five more minutes. Leaves the floor open for questions. Gives logistical instructions for next week.

11:00 I leave. Having received five minutes of training. Realize I won’t be able to read any of the materials in the kit before the training session because I don’t have a fucking kit.

Oh. Did I mention I missed a chance to see Bill Clinton speak at UCLA so I could attend this training session?

To Party or Not To Party

2006-10-06T20:43:00.000-07:00

Well, that’s actually NOT the question. For those of you that know me, which I assume is each and every reader, that’s NEVER a question for me. At least not as long as I’m in my mid-20’s and have some semblance of energy remaining. Lately, the question has been: WHO to party with. I’ve been back in LA for almost two months now, and have pretty much exclusively been partying with my South Asian friends – Anuj, Smitty, Vijay, etc. – the non-Andersonians I mentioned in a previous posting.

Now, enter, the Anderson friends. So far, most of my social outings with my classmates have been during the week – happy-hour type events that people organize and discuss at school. While I've yet to form a “core” group of people that I actually call to go out and do stuff, I’ve made a few friends who I do keep in contact with on evenings/weekends when we’re not on campus (this really applies more to weekends than evenings, as despite my 8am classes, I find myself on campus til at least 6 or 7 on most days).

Now, it’s Friday evening, and I’ve spent most of the last few hours ignoring my Managerial Economics textbook, instead trying to figure out where to go tonight and with whom (or is it “with who? Shashank, help me out here). One of my Anderson friends called me a few hours ago mentioning a house party being thrown by a classmate. Advantages: I get to meet and hang out with some of my classmates that I don’t know that well, and house parties are significantly cheaper than most Friday night options. Disadvantages: I drink a lot more heavily on Fridays than I do during the week, and most of these people have yet to see “drunk Yat” just yet. And I’d kinda like to keep it that way.

Of course, the non-Andersonians are making their own plans, with a couple options being discussed by varying groups of people. Of course, the advantages of hanging out with these “existing friends’ (to mix up the terminology a bit) are a bit more obvious – I’ve known most of these people for ages, and they’ve all seen drunk Yat thousands of times. More importantly, they drink just as heavily as me, so even if I do something out-of-the-ordinary stupid, they probably won’t remember it. Plus, when I DON’T hang out with them, I inevitably get the “you’ve known us forever and now you’re ditching us for new people” and “why can’t you hang out with all of us together?” comments, even though I’m sure most of the non-Andersonians would get scared away by the large groups of non-Indos that constitute most of the b. school social events.

My big concern is that if I regularly say “no” to the Andersonians in these early days, they’ll obviously stop calling and inviting me out. That said, I’m highly tempted to go to the house party tonight. Or, ideally, go to the house party for like an hour, show that I want to meet and hang out with my classmates, and then head out with the non-Andersonians. Unfortunately, the non-Andersonians usually consist of about 8 dudes for every non-dude, so we always have to go places earlier, thus ruling out that option.

Final verdict: I’m gonna hang out with the Indos tonight. But I’m gonna call the Andersonians beforehand, mention where I’m going (and probably lie and make it sound like some I-have-to-go birthday party – J/K to any classmates that might be reading this :-) and invite them, and ask what they’re all doing tomorrow night. Business is all about negotiation, right?

DISCLAIMER: I know this posting had a very “Hey! Look at me! I’m Mr. Popular” feel to it. Definitely NOT how I intended it. To prove this, I’m more than willing to admit that I ran for not one, but two elected positions within my section at Anderson, and lost BOTH. Clearly, I’m not Mr. Popular.

Vegas Baby, Vegas

2006-10-01T23:41:00.000-07:00

“It’s hard to imagine how anything I did this weekend could have any positive contribution to my life.” H.M., October 1, 2006, 6:50p.m.

That pretty much sums up our weekend. As I write this, I’m driving back from Vegas Baby, Vegas. Well, to be exact, Hirsch is driving, and I’m riding shotgun in his mom’s SUV. Unfortunately Vince Vaughn had it completely wrong. I’m so NOT money. And I know it.

We arrived at our hotel, the Treasure Island (which apparently now is referred to by everyone, myself included, as TI), at around 10:45p.m on Friday, after a grueling 6 ½ hour drive from LA. The weekend seemed to be getting off to a solid start from a financial perspective. My sandwich at Panera in Fontana had a hair on it, so they kindly gave me a new sandwich, my money back, and as many free cookies as we could eat, which unfortunately was one fewer than they gave us because Hirsch started spazzing when I started to eat a chocolate chip cookie in the car – he’s allergic. Then Hirsch and I won free drinks from Nipa and Ena since we were closer in guessing our arrival time – thanks to Nipa for the $15 mojito and to Ena for all the Goose. THEN the guy at TI whose day we made by throwing some Saved by the Bell trivia into the check-in process gave us a free upgrade to a suite and hooked us up with a bottle of free champagne, which, of course, we drank directly from the bottle while playing blackjack at the Venetian on Saturday night. THEN we strolled in free to Tangerine, the club at the TI, since we were hotel guests. I figure at this point I was already up $50, before even playing a hand.

After all the east coasters finally got to the club at around 1, I made the detrimental decision of ordering 8 Patron shots. $88. Then Anuj (the one from NY) ordered mind erasers. Game over. They might as well call it the “business school loan check eraser”. After wreaking havoc in the club for a few hours, we took off to do what we do at 4 a.m. in Vegas. Actually, what we do at 4 a.m. in Vegas is go to a strip club, but we decided to gamble instead, as several of our regular strip club attendees weren’t arriving until Saturday. To paraphrase the next couple hours, I lost $250, threw my last losing chips in the direction of the dealer, and stormed away in search of greasy food.

Thanks to Terence for waking me up when his flight landed at 11a.m. on Saturday. You owe me $750 bro. Instead of doing the wise thing and heading to the pool to lounge, swim, and stare at hot chicks, we headed over to the Venetian to drink bloody marys and vodka sodas and play more blackjack. Second worst decision I made this weekend, only behind that stuffed slice of pizza I ate at Sbarro this afternoon. I don’t know if it was my aggressive betting, Ronak and Poo’s presence, the three hundred lemon drop shots I drank (all ordered by females FYI), or just general bad luck, but I headed over to the Sportsbook at around 6 p.m. down another $550 or so. I had even started to make a nice little comeback, turning $100 to $350 in two quick hands. Unfortunately, I decided it would be smart to keep up the big bets, losing all $350 in another two hands. Thanks to Ohio State for salvaging me $50 of my Saturday afternoon.

After getting ready, a few of us played some more blackjack and chugged the aforementioned champagne. Lost another $200 or so, bringing the weekend total up to around a G. Then we headed over to Tao, the fantastic restaurant and club at the Venetian. Even from a slightly biased perspective, we looked like total ballers. There was 20 or so us at a long-ass table in its own private little nook of the restaurant, that was at a slightly higher level than the rest of the restaurant so we could observe most of the other diners, Jamie Foxx and Vin Diesel included. The drinks were good, the company better, and the food somewhere in between. Mine was damn tasty – I think I had steak but it was pretty hard to tell in the darkness of the restaurant. Apparently the sea bass was incredible – thanks for sharing Shef 

After finishing up dinner at around 1:30, we had to figure out how the hell we were gonna get into the nightclub part of Tao. Unbelievably, eating dinner and spending around $1,500, didn’t get us into the club. Thanks to Poo and Fake for developing a gameplan and acting on it – that’s what happens when you get a consultant and a trader together. We gave the bouncer $500 - $25 a head – and strolled into the club. For those of you that haven’t been, Tao is a gigantic club – I get lost several times each time I go there (seriously, it’s a HUGE club – it doesn’t have anything to do with the 20 drinks I’ve usually had before going). I’ll keep it brief on Tao because, frankly, I don’t remember much. But apparently the following all happened: we saw a bunch of celebrities, e.g. Lil’ Jon, Paris Hilton, and K-Fed (who, yes, I realize isn’t really a celebrity, but he is famous), Smitty got hit on by a dude, and Atur got kicked out for being too drunk. Keep this in mind – I was drunk to the point that I don’t remember shouting “WHAT?!” when I was next to Lil’ Jon, and I didn’t get kicked out. So the question is - how drunk were you Atur?

Outside of the hardcore gamblers, which would probably have included me if I wasn’t already down a grand, we all drank and danced at Tao until around 5. At that point, T and I had one thing on our mind – strippers. Unfortunately, the 4 hours of sleep I had on Friday night combined with the 17 hours of consecutive drinking had caught up with me, and I was just too damn tired to make it. I’m pretty sure I would have fallen asleep in the middle of a lappie, which has never happened to me, but I imagine has got to be really embarrassing, not to mention a waste of $20. But Terence, congratulations. You made it to the strip club BY YOUR DAMN SELF!!! Very impressive.

After getting 6 or so hours of really shitty sleep on two of the chairs in our room at the Venetian b/c I was too drunk and tired to simply cross the street and go to my room at the TI, I woke up and debated what to do in the few hours I had before leaving. Fortunately we had a good group of people in the room, most of whom were still drunk. The jokes, people falling over themselves, and general silliness in the room were entertaining enough that I didn’t feel compelled to play cards and give more money to the shareholders of whatever big-ass corporation that owns the Venetian and/or the TI.

The only real highlight from Sunday (and pretty much the only highlight from the lowlight-filled weekend) was 20 of us eating lunch at the food court before heading out. As I mentioned, most of us were still pretty drunk, Fake in particular. Keep in mind this is Vegas, and there are families with little kids all over the place. The terms “penis” and “ass sweat” were all shouted loudly enough that some parents are gonna have to have some of those birds-and-bees conversations with their kids about 10 years earlier than they wanted to.

Now we’re stuck in traffic about 100 miles out of LA. All I wanna do is eat, drop a deuce, and sleep. Fortunately the Eagles play tomorrow night, so I don’t have to waste any time watching football highlights when I get back. Pretty much every friend I have in the world was with me this weekend, so checking email should be really quick. And being single, showering isn’t really on my list of priorities right now. Classes start tomorrow, and I’m already behind as I only read about 25% of what’s already been assigned. Yup. I’m pretty damn sure that I’m not money.

ALERT: B. School is NOT a joke...seriously, i'm not joking

2006-09-21T22:27:00.000-07:00

Well, the day has finally happened. My 80-day weekend finally ended. This actually happened on Monday, but the first week of school has actually been extremely busy. Orientation starts at 8am every day, and we basically have lectures or other "leadership" exercises nonstop til 6pm. After that it's a combination of mandatory nighttime events at school, reading case studies (WTF? I thought I didn't get into HBS???), working out (MUCH easier to do thanks to the UCLA co-ed's...can't wait til the undergrad classes start), and drinking/socializing with my new classmates. I haven't seen my "non-Anderson friends", as they will now be referred to for the next two years, since Sunday, which is quite a change from the previous few weeks when I was seeing them every day. I gotta say, I don't miss them all that much. My new classmates are (generally) pretty cool - outgoing, funny, social, smart, etc. I am dissapointed by the ratio though - my class is 72% male. I feel like I'm going to an Indian party where there's literally three guys for every girl, and about half the girls are already spoken for. Only difference is that at the Indian parties, the single girls are generally bitches who think they're far better looking than they really are (ladies, just cuz you happen to have one Friendster pic that makes you look average to slightly above average, doesn't mean you really are average to slightly above average).

This week, which is the first of two weeks of orientation, has been a weeklong course called "Leadership Foundations", which basically consists of a series of lectures and activities designed to teach us the theories and best practices of leadership. It's been four days, and as far as I can tell, they've pretty much just taught us that good leadership = good teamwork. B-School is all teamwork. We're even assigned study groups. It's still early, but so far I'm VERY happy with my study group - the two international students actually speak proper English (which sadly is all too often NOT the case), and everyone mutually agreed that we won't meet on the weekends except when absolutely necessary. You know what that means my LA friends - Vegas 2-3 times a month (starting with the wknd of September 29th).

More to come later. Right now I suppose I should be working on my "Leadership Map" which is due tomorrow. What the f*ck is a "Leadership Map", you ask? Well, I haven't really done mine yet, so I'm not quite sure. But I think it's supposed to be some self-reflective essay about my leadership goals, experiences, strengths, weaknesses, blah, blah, blah. Then Saturday we have mandatory volunteer day - yeah, that sounds pretty oxymoronic to me too. And speaking of morons, it's Atur's engagement party on Saturday night. Congrats buddy!

United 93

2006-09-14T00:51:00.000-07:00

Intense. Powerful. Unbelievable.

I FINALLY saw United 93. I had wanted to see this since it first came out in the theatres, but struggled to convince anyone to see it with me, for pretty obvious reasons. I had heard all the standard rejections - "too depressing", "too soon", etc. But I've always felt that the civilian victims that died in Pennsylvania (and the Pentagon for that matter) we're always somewhat "overshadowed", for lack of a better term, by the victims who died in and around the WTC. For that reason as much as any other, I wanted to get a sense for what really happened on United Flight 93. And while we'll obviously never know exactly what REALLY happened on that or any of the other hijacked flights that day, I just got a good feeling when I read/heard way back in the day that before making the movie, the producer or director or whoever got signoff from EVERY family.

I was admittedly surprised by how much emotion I was overcome with while watching the movie (yes, I cried, on several occasions). As many of you know, I was in NYC on 9/11. While it was obviously quite a long time ago, I still remember the day pretty vividly - calling my parents in LA to tell them I was OK, only to realize they were still sleeping and hadn't a clue what was going on until I called; running into my then-roommate Ramesh while walking from my Midtown office to my Gramercy apartment; wondering for hours about the whereabouts of my sister and my other then-roommate, Vinay (cellphones were obviously not working very well that day, but both were eventually accounted for safely). But I was one of the lucky ones. Not only was I nowhere near the WTC that morning, but I also don't know anyone who was directly injured or killed in the attacks. So, while I recognize the day as the biggest national tragedy in my lifetime (well, 3rd biggest, behind a certain court ruling in January 2001, and a certain election in November 2004), the memories have never hit me that hard.

As usual, I digress. Back to the movie. So many aspects surprised me. How the ten or so passengers and crew who planned the now-famous "Let's Roll" attacks had the nerves, sense, and composure to do what they did absolutely amazes me. While we all recognize I'm no thrill-seeking cowboy, I think most people I know would be sitting there shitting bricks, crying their asses off, and understandably so. Absolutely heroic what these people did, and in my opinion the media hasn't done enough to honor them. In my opinion, that's reason enough to see the movie...as difficult as it will be to watch. I was also surprised about my reaction to the ending - when the plane went down in the Pennsylvanian field. A part of me felt that, at that moment, "we" had won, since the terrorist bastards' target, the White House, wasn't hit. Of course I know, however, that "we" didn't win. Yes, the brave actions of the passengers and crew probably saved hundreds of civilian lives in DC, but 45 innocent people died in that field, along with the 5 SOB's.

Immediately after watching the movie, I fell into Bush/Cheney/Rumsfeld mode and was like "Let's kill any Muslim mother*ucker out there. F*ck this cut and run bullshit. Let's just clean house." But now that I've had the chance to come to my senses a bit, I realize the exact opposite is what we should be doing. Almost 3,000 innocent civilians died on that day a little over 5 years ago. And since then, c. 2,500 American soldiers have died in Iraq, many others in Afghanistan (can't find a count on Google, and it's 1:22 a.m. so I'm feeling a bit lazy), and of course, tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of Middle Eastern civilians. And it simply isn't stopping. Suicide bombers. Execution-style killings of Iraqi civilians and security personnel. Every f*cking day it keeps happening. And for what? Is America/the West REALLY much safer from terrorist attacks? We - Americans - have been lucky. But there's been the London and Madrid train bombings. And of course the recently foiled trans-Atlantic hair gel/toothpaste attacks. Call it what you want red-staters - "stay the course", "support our troops", etc. At the end of the day, it's just more and more Americans (and innocent foreign civilians) dying for no clear reason.

WATCH THE MOVIE. THEN, GET OUT AND VOTE IN NOVEMBER - LET'S TAKE THE SENATE BACK!!! (and get Arnold out while we're at it)

Sorry to be the bearer of bad news...

2006-09-13T19:52:00.000-07:00

...but I am indeed alive. Maybe next time all you not-so-well-wishers. Anyways, I know it SEEMS I have no valid excuse for the minimal postings in recent weeks, given I am at the tail end of my 80-day weekend. But believe it or not, I have been extremely busy. Between a depressing weekend spent in Knoxville, Tennessee (Southern Hospitality is legit), another weekend spent camping in the Sierras with some fellow Anderson classmates (business school students are MUCH cooler than med school students), and getting settled into my p.i.m.p. new pad in Santa Monica, I haven't had a chance to sit down and catch my breath in quite some time.

I guess there's no real point to this posting outside of wanting to update the blog. So, I'll use this opportunity, as T and Brian have already done, to say RIP 2Pac (I hope you're proud of the fact that I haven't listened to anything but your music today). Oh, and also to mention that my niece Mia's first trip is coming up. Where's she going? Vegas baby, Vegas. Looks like she takes after her uncle just a little bit.

Who says vacays can't be productive?

2006-08-23T14:58:00.000-07:00

Sorry it's been a while since my last post. Between the lack of internet access at my parents' house (yes, I live with my parents - TEMPORARILY) and the lack of anything interesting to write about, it really wasn't worth the effort.

Anyways, back to the post. Today has been my most productive of my now 54-day long vacation. Well, maybe 2nd most productive. I say any day you reach the summit of a 19,000+ foot mountain is a pretty productive day (yes, more sleazy "I climbed Kili and I'm gonna gloat" comments). "What makes today so productive?", you would ask in the off chance that you actually gave a damn. Well, first of all, I FINALLY uploaded a bunch of my pictures from the last several months of my life, dating back to my last weekend in NY, which was in early April. I've added some of them here, and if you want to see all of them, let me know and I'll send you the Kodak Gallery link.

Far more importantly than uploading my pics, however, was signing my lease about 4 hours ago. Great 2-bedroom place in Santa Monica, on 5th street right off of Wilshire. For those of you unfamiliar with the area, that's 5 blocks from the ocean, 2 blocks from Wahoo's Fish Tacos, and some ability-to-spit-game from a bevy of beautiful white women. Move-in date is September 1, and out-of-towners, as always, are welcome and invited to come visit, drink, eat, sleep, sunbathe, and chase women, or men if that's the way you roll. On to the pictures...

My beautiful baby niece Mia, at 5 weeks and 3 days:

At 6 weeks and 2 days:

Which is prettier - the Indian Ocean or the Indian guy?

Sunset over the Indian Ocean in Zanzibar:

One of the many amazing views from Kili - kinda crazy looking DOWN at the clouds:

Those Porters earn every damn cent (all 3 cents per hour) they make:

Sippin on Kilis on Kili:

Man it was COOOOLLLLD, but gotta represent Da Bears!

Nile View from my Cairo Hotel:

Sunset over the Nile:

More Nile:

An Egyptian Mosque - this one's for you Haider:

Cairo Skyline:

The Pyramids at Giza:

The Sphinx:

I was in Africa, after all, so I gotta show you some wildlife:
A giraffe, in case you're an idiot:

Somewhere back there is a leopard, by far the rarest animal we saw:

White Rhino, also quite rare:

Peter and I had AMAZING ostrich filets when we returned to Nairobi...highly recommended:

That's enough for today. I AM on vacation after all. I'll try to add more pics of Africa and Europe soon.

Close Call

2006-08-11T10:44:00.000-07:00

I've already thanked my mom for preparing my life-saving first aid kit in preparation for Mt. Kili. Now, it's time to thank my dad. Why? Because Wednesday August 9 was his birthday. Normally, every year I give my dad a birthday card (he's partial to Hallmark's Shoebox collection, as am I), and write "Happy Birthday", "Thanks for everything you've done for me", etc. This year, since I was in Africa, I didn't have a chance to get him a card. So when I decided to cut my trip short since Shashank is an ass-kissing glory hog who can only say no to his girlfriend and his friends, but not his boss, I decided to leave on Tuesday night, therefore arriving in LA on Wednesday afternoon, in time to say "Happy Birthday" in person. Contrary to most decisions I've made over the past 26+ years, I woke up Thursday morning thanking my lucky stars for my, well, good luck.

I'm sure you've all by now seen or read news reports of the supposedly huge terrorist threat authorities in the UK broke up yesterday. If I remember correctly, 24 suspects (f'in Pakis), 18 or so of whom have been caught. What's interesting/scary as hell is that the primary target of the attacks appear to have been trans-Atlantic flights originating in London and destined for the U.S., i.e. the same type of flight I took Wednesday morning from Heathrow to LAX.

So, with that, I say, "Thank You dad." Had Wednesday NOT been his birthday, I very well may have delayed my flight by a day or two. And, frankly, I already had enough close calls in my final 24 hours in Nairobi - from some drunk Kenyan threatening to put Boylan and I "in a cemetery" because Boylan was, well, being Boylan; to two cops hassling us for our passports and Kenyan visas, clearly hoping that we didn't have proper documentation so they could swindle us out of a few thousand shillings so they could make rent or get drunk on Tusker and threaten to put some unsuspecting souls in a cemetery.

Fortunately, the authorities seem to have stopped the plot before it could be enacted, but who knows what might have been. Best-case scenario - I would have probably been delayed by several hours (or more) and maybe lost a small fortune in hair gel, sunblock, and maybe even my camera, iPod, etc., since I heard they weren't allowing electronics on board UK-US flights. Worst-case scenario - well, I'd rather not think about that, but let's just say you guys would probably be fighting over said gel, sunblock, camera, iPod, etc. That brings me to a random thought. When I craft my will (which I've been meaning to do but putting off for ages), I think I'll leave all my gel and hair-care products to Smitty. He'll appreciate that.

"A Long Walk" My Skinny Brown Ass

2006-08-06T12:12:00.000-07:00

We made it. Amazingly. Somewhat surprisingly. It still hasn’t quite sunk in yet (maybe because it’s 3 a.m. right now, and I just woke up to watch Sunday Night Baseball – Mets vs. Phillies), but the Hawaiian Hawk and I successfully climbed the tallest mountain in Africa. After starting on Tuesday at 12:25 p.m. (to be honest, we started at elevation: 1,970m), we reached Uhuru Peak (elevation: 5,895m, or approx. 19,300 feet) on Friday morning, just past 7 a.m. Since I know you won’t believe me without the proof, here it is...

Tuesday morning, pre-climb:

Friday morning, at Uhuru peak (it was well below 0°C - that's me on the right behind the beanie, scarf, several layers of clothing, a westside, and, yes, a goatee):

As I told Mike, one of the travel agents who arranged our climb, it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever done in my life, and at the same time, the most miserable thing I’ve ever done in my life. In between, it was surprising, interesting, challenging, patience-testing, and unforgettable.

The climb was surprising mostly in its difficulty. Because multiple people had described the climb to us as “a long walk”, Peter and I had no idea what we were in for. I didn't train outside of my normal exercise routine, nor did I quit or cut back on the drinking, greasy foods, and other vices. To those people, and you know who you are Shashank and Bhargavi, climb Kili, THEN call it whatever the hell you want to. While most climbers made it to Uhuru, we also saw several who were being escorted down by their guides having failed to reach the peak (or even Gilman's Point 200 or so meters shy of the peak) due to altitude sickness, fatigue, etc. (Another surprising part of the trip to Tanzania was running into a guy I went to college with at the Kenya-Tanzania border - what are the odds of that?)

The climb was interesting because of all the people we met along the way:

- A Canadian couple on their honeymoon. “Hey hon, after we get married, why don’t we climb a close-to-20k foot mountain, in the winter, while sharing tiny huts with obnoxious, foul-mouthed Americans?”
- The token Indian couple from Cambridge – him a software consultant, her a doctor. Props to Boylan for the Interpreter of Maladies reference. Although, given the Cambridge connection, he could have just gone with a Shashank-Bhargavi reference, the only difference being Shashank isn’t a software consultant. He’s a bad host.
- A Canadian man in his mid-40’s, whose dream it has been for 25 years to climb Kili. He ditched wifey at home, and dragged his two sons – ages 14 and 16 – halfway across the world to attempt the climb. Unfortunately, the man only made it to Gilman’s Point (about 200m short of the peak, but having been through the experience, quite an accomplishment in its own right). His two sons both made it to Uhuru Peak, although as the father himself confirmed, the 16-year old was bitching the whole way. Classic antisocial older child, extroverted younger child. While the 16-year old sat on his bed playing his PSP and bitching about the climb, the local music, etc., the 14-year old was chatting us up, and just generally being a cooler guy. He’s probably gonna go back to Canada, become Homecoming King, and sleep with his older brother’s girlfriend on prom night. A 14-year old who climbed Africa’s highest peak. P-I-M-P.
- A guide who has been climbing Kili for 56 years, since he was 20 years old. The man looks about 30 years shy of his true 76. In 1985, he guided Former President Jimmy Carter up the mountain. 21 years later, the man is still going strong, climbing the mountain regularly, while two or three times a year, I read a cnn.com article about Carter being hospitalized for some reason or another. Must be that mountain air.

The climb was the most challenging thing I’ve ever done in my life. Part of it is probably due to the fact that I haven’t challenged myself a whole heck of a lot (Exhibit A – being a Business major). Part of it is probably due to the fact that I’ve never climbed a hill before in my life, let alone a mountain. Nevertheless, 5 days – 67km (over 40 miles) walked, probably 45% or so of that at an incline, often times EXTREMELY steep and always with a pretty heavy day pack strapped to our backs. The summit climb was by far the most difficult. Seven hours, starting just past midnight. Sub-freezing temperatures. Six of the seven hours in pitch-black darkness, with only our headlamps and guide to lead us in the right direction. Pounding headaches due to the altitude. When we asked our guide why they have the summit climb at night, in the dark, the guide said the primary reason was so that climbers could see sunrise at Uhuru. The secondary reason: so that climbers can’t see how steep the last part of the climb is, so as to not get intimidated/discouraged. I’m man enough to admit there were a couple times during the summit climb when I honestly didn’t think I’d make it. Not that I’d ever give up – I have too much pride for that. After asking for one short break about 2 ½ hours into the summit climb (and feeling like a pu**y for doing that), I didn’t have it in me to ask for any more, despite the fact that my heart was racing and head throbbing. I thought I might just collapse and have to be carried down. Fortunately, the PowerBars, adrenaline, and embarrassment I’d face if I failed were enough motivation to take me to the top – barely. Once we got there, however, we were too damn cold and delirious to appreciate it very much. Snapped about five photos each, glanced around at the views (unfortunately obstructed by cloudiness), and got the hell out of there.

And wouldn’t you know it. After making it all the way to the summit (relatively) unscathed, within an hour or so of DESCENT, my tired, delirious, clumsy ass took a horrible spill and have cuts all over my hands to show for it. No guys, I wasn’t drunk. To make it even better, our guide apparently didn’t think it was important to bring along a first aid kit for the longest, steepest part of the climb. Not that it really mattered, as when I took my spill, he was off gallivanting with Peter at least 100 yards in front of me (don’t worry Kristina, nothing happened), leaving me with the assistant guide, also sans first aid kit. Thanks guys. Thank you SO much for the first aid kit Mom. I might have bled to death without it.

Patience-testing: Over 100 hours without a shower. Sleeping in tiny (yet admittedly comfortable and warm) huts. Changing clothes in the spacious confines of a sleeping bag. Peeing in either disgusting outhouse-style toilets or behind bushes. Avoiding fiber like the plague, for obvious reasons. Drinking 4 liters (not "litres") of "fresh" water daily that appeared to have been transported via old gasoline cans. Trying to sleep with the annoying girl in the adjacent hut rambling on about being a medical student, having a Swahili name, blah blah blah. (Of course, we ended up meeting said annoying girl the next day, when her UCSB friend saw my t-shirt and asked me “Do you go to Berkeley?” I’m not gonna lie. The tense of her question – “do” as compared to “did” – was quite flattering.) Being without the internet, email, or any external communications for 4 1/2 days. Bush, Cheney and Condi could have quit in some mass-resignation, and we wouldn't have known it. No such luck. Damn.

Unforgettable: for all the reasons above. Honestly, I had the time of my life climbing the mountain. Just as honestly, I’ll never do it again. I’d like to start hiking/camping more, but I think I’ll stick to mountains in the 5-10k feet range.

Sidebar I: I realized, after years of denial, that I have some major sleeping issues. Despite being warm, comfortable, well-fed, and NOT nervous the night before the summit climb, I was only able to sleep for about an hour, lying there in futile attempts to sleep for the first five hours. Note to any mountain climbers out there: one hour of sleep before a seven-hour summit climb at altitudes over 15k feet is NOT enough. If any of you know any good sleep-specialist doctors in LA, PLEASE hook me up.

Sidebar II: NOTHING in Tanzania is a problem. When we arrived at our hotel, the power was out, the hotel dimly lit by a couple not-so-strategically-placed candles. When we asked when power would be restored, the response was “Eez no problem.” WTF?! “What time does the restaurant open for dinner?” “Eez no problem.” “Why did you call our room and then hang up?” “Eez no problem.” “Do you mind if I rape, pillage and plunder through your family’s home?” “Eez no problem.” F’ing third world. So many problems and yet they’re completely oblivious.

Travel Advice I: If you ever plan a trip to East Africa, particularly Tanzania, contact Tanzania Journeys. Not only were they extremely helpful in planning our trip, but they also went above and beyond to make us feel comfortable once we arrived. They were at the hotel to greet us when we arrived, arranged a pre-climb briefing session with our guide to answer any final questions we had, took us out for a nice, booze-filled post-climb celebration dinner, and even called the next morning to make sure our drunk asses woke up in time to make our shuttle back to Nairobi. First class people all the way.

Travel Advice II: If you ever climb Kili, beware of a guide named Godenough Moshamko (the guy in the middle in the Uhuru Peak picture). Cool guy, but not a great guide. I already mentioned that he was nowhere to be found when I took my Humpty Dumpty tumble. And then, after already spending $1,100 to climb the mountain, he sucked out pretty much all our remaining cash the night after the climb. As if buying him and his boys a nice dinner (with drinks) and giving him a $90 tip wasn’t enough, he made Peter give him around $20 for a 12-minute phone call to his girlfriend in Honolulu. Then, he asked us to pay $80 for him and three of his boys to get into some club. Fortunately, despite having a few (ok, more than a few) beers in me, I was sensible enough to give him $20 for him to get into the club and then we said good riddance. First of all, as the bartender at our hotel later confirmed, no club in f’ing Moshi, Tanzania costs $20 cover. Second of all, f*ck you asshole, we’re not paying for you and your boys to get drunk. We appreciate you giving us a ride to dinner – rolling through the streets of Moshi bumping Lil’ Jon was truly an unforgettable experience, but nevertheless - I hope you get downgraded to some other mountain. Or better yet, upgraded to Everest. Good luck climbing that you fat f*ck.

Anyways, this looks to be my last entry from Africa. Unfortunately, Shashank is gonna be stuck dodging bullets/rockets/Condi for the foreseeable future, so I’m likely headed back to LA this week. Sucks that I have to cut my vacay short, without getting to see South Africa. But I’m admittedly getting homesick, and at least I’ll make it back for Smitty’s graduation party. Besides, there’s worst scenarios then 5 ½ weeks of sitting on my ass in SoCal. Vegas anyone???

Been Around the World...

2006-07-28T06:12:00.000-07:00

Not exactly, but after Cairo it kinda feels like it. I consider myself pretty well-traveled, but never have I felt like I was experiencing what I was when in Cairo earlier this week. As you know, there’s sooooo much history in this part of the world, and in/around Cairo specifically – the Pyramids at Giza, the Nile, the mummies, King Tut, etc. It was my first trip to what I consider the Middle East, and for most of the trip, I was simply in awe of my surroundings.

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS A LONG ENTRY. EITHER SPLIT IT UP INTO PIECES, OR CALL IN SICK.

Rather than my typical, day-by-day, almost minute-by-minute journals, this entry will consist of notes and observations from my 3 ½ day trip to Cairo. Probably more educational than entertaining, but hope you enjoy. If you don’t, no one made you read this, so don’t bitch.

- Those of you who have traveled with me know that I’m kinduva half-ass traveler. Sleep in, have breakfast (while watching Family Guy on my portable DVD player), see one major sight, have some lunch, wander the streets a bit, have a couple drinks at a local bar, and take the night from there. Not so in Cairo. There’s SO much to do/see there, that I was on a marathon trip, trying to see if I could see all the major sights in my short trip. I’m proud to say I hit most of them – The Egyptian Museum, The Pyramids at Giza, Islamic Cairo, Coptic (i.e. Christian) Cairo, The Citadel, Abdeen Palace, Cairo Tower. Absolutely exhausting. My strong suggestion is to spend more time here than I did. And probably add a few more days for some other cities in Egypt, e.g. Alexandria.

- The Egyptian people, generally speaking, were very friendly. On several occasions, men who saw me looking kinda lost, staring at my Lonely Planet, approached me, made friendly conversation, and offered assistance – without trying to lure me into their stores or travel agencies.

- One guy who DID sweet-talk me into his store showed me a photo of his uncle shaking hands with the GOAT – Muhammad Ali. Of course, the man shaking Ali’s hand could very well have been Anwar Sadat and I really wouldn’t have known the difference.

- Having become accustomed to seeing full-on, hijab-clad women usually only walking around with other women, kinda like in a convent, it was very strange seeing so many of them walking with men, often arm-in-arm, and sometimes even holding hands. Blasphemy! On this note, I don’t understand how ANY Egyptian women can be fat. Walking around all day in the blazing heat, wearing all-black clothing from head to toes? How much bread and shwarma can one eat?!

- It was also weird, being in a Muslim country (albeit a more secular one than many others), seeing men walking arm-in-arm with each other, sometimes holding hands. I couldn’t tell if they were just walking like that or if they were actually gay, but it definitely felt like I was walking around in Chelsea or San Fran.

- Sticking with the Muslim theme – there are minarets sticking out EVERYWHERE. I’ve been to one Muslim country before, Turkey, and from my recollection there weren’t nearly as many mosques there as in Cairo. Even on the cab ride into town from the airport, the view from my seat offered minarets every which way. Left, a minaret. Straight ahead, another minaret. To my right, a shorter minaret (I bet the imam of that mosque drives a Range Rover or something).

- For such an old city, Cairo is EXTREMELY pedestrian-unfriendly and surprisingly car-friendly. In many places, there are no sidewalks at all, leaving me – and many others - to walk at the edge of the street in the middle of a crowded downtown traffic circle.

- Traffic generally, but in central/downtown Cairo, is RIDICULOUS. American University in Cairo, which is apparently the crème-de-la-crème of Egyptian universities, is right in the thick of it all. The only thing I can think of that might come close to comparing, is if there was a university directly adjacent to Times Square.

- Egyptians, especially the men, look surprisingly like South Asians. I got the “you look Egyptian” comment many times – and not always from people trying to sell me stuff. I could have saved a small fortune on cabs, souvenirs, etc. if I spoke a little Arabic with even a half-ass accent.

- My first sightseeing stop was the top of the Cairo Tower. Pretty unimpressive. Cairo, at night, doesn’t look all that spectacular. Unfortunately, it was the first chance I had to go (and at about $10 entry I wasn’t gonna go twice), but I imagine the views during the day – on a clear day you can probably see the Pyramids – are much more impressive.

- As many of you know, I have ZERO sense of direction. Thank God for the Nile, which on multiple occasions helped me navigate my way back to my not-so-central hotel. That’s exactly what we need in L.A. – a huge river. Heck, build one flowing north-south, and one flowing east-west, with different color water or something to distinguish the two.

- Seeing the mummies of men who have been dead for around 4,000 years – and actually being able to notice their facial features – is incredibly cool. However, the Egyptian Museum (and the Lonely Planet for that matter) could better serve the viewing public by explaining the history and process of mummification.

- Is it a bad sign that the first thing that popped into my head when I saw King Tut’s famous Death Mask was the Luxor at Las Vegas?

- Speaking of King Tut, maybe Egypt could still be a powerful, wealthy nation, if they hadn’t used so much damn gold building solid-gold coffins, death masks, jewelry for the mummies, etc.

- The Egyptian Museum is simply overwhelming. I would strongly encourage you to splurge the extra c. $7 and go on two separate days. Even doing this, navigating through all the rooms proved a monumental (and, admittedly, boring at times) task. The Museum is PACKED with sculptures, statues, coffins, hieroglyphics, carvings, jewelry, and all sorts of other artifacts from Pharoanic Egypt. BTW, to the curator – PLEASE invest in improved air conditioning as well as labeling of the items on display. Not to mention the piss-poor lighting in several rooms.

- Did you ever wonder who, in God-knows-when B.C., had the time to make all the intricately-carved sculptures in these museums? Between the hunting/gathering, holy wars, and involuntary servitude, I’m stumped as to who found the time to put together a replica of a large cattle-counting scene, complete with King, King’s son, counters, scribes, and cattle. Why wasn’t this guy out in the fields counting the damn cattle instead of sculpting?

- Did you know they used to mummify animals, even fish and crocodiles? I didn’t. Weird.

- Realizing that pretty much all the religious art I have ever seen in museums has been Christian art, I ventured towards the Museum of Islamic Art. Alas, it was closed for renovation. Damn. Opus Dei has infiltrated Cairo! (Relax Christian friends, just some light Dan Brown humor. Angels & Demons, BTW, if the first third of it is any indication, is better than The Da Vinci Code).

- Maybe I built up the Pyramids too much in my own head. Don’t get me wrong – they’re spectacular structures, especially considering they’re over 4,500 years old. But I guess I had this naïve visions in my head of actual pyramids with smooth surfaces, kinda like true geometric pyramids. Of course, this is not the case, as there is the obvious bumpiness that one would expect from pyramids built from thousands of limestone rocks.

- The interiors of the Pyramids are tourist traps. After paying around $7 to enter the whole region, which encompasses the three large pyramids, six smaller ones, and the Sphinx, I had to pay another $18 to enter the Great Pyramid (the first and largest). I basically paid $18 just to walk up some narrow, steep, claustrophobic steps. If you’re really short on cash, it’s not necessary to go inside. Of course, it was still worth it, as I think it’s pretty cool to be able to say I was in the Great Pyramid. I TRIED to enter the Second Pyramid as well – it’s INSANE that not only do they not allow cameras inside, but they didn’t even have a place to check your cameras. When I asked where I should leave my camera, one of the security guys said “with your guide or in the car.” WTF?! What about those of us who are competent enough to explore the Pyramids without a guide?! Very uncool.

- Egypt has had FIVE different national flags. Not in its entire history. Five different flags since independence in 1952. Maybe it’s just me, but I found this strange/interesting. Strangely interesting. Or interestingly strange?

- There’s nothing wrong with taking a felucca ride on the Nile by yourself, is there? IS THERE?!

- BTW, condolensces to those of you dealing with the heat waves that seem to be taking over across the U.S. Who would have thought I'd be more comfortable in the Egyptian desert in July than I would have been in L.A.?

All in all, it was a great trip. My only regret, I suppose, is that I didn’t get a chance to explore Cairo’s nightlife, which is supposedly pretty good. I was so exhausted from all the sightseeing that it was tough to motivate myself (esp. considering I was traveling solo) to go out, drink, and try to pick up girls who don’t speak English.

Sidebar – Kenya Airways SUCKS. Pretty much all of my flights have been delayed, several by two hours or more. In Zanzibar, I was without my checked luggage for well over 24 hours, forcing me to wear the same clothes for, well, for much longer than I or anyone around me would have preferred. And when they collect stuff related to the “entertainment system” before descent, they make you give up your blankets too. WTF?! Outside of that Linus kid from the Peanuts comics, when did blankets serve any kind of ENTERTAINMENT purpose?

Tomorrow, Peter and I are gonna go see some wildlife. Then, on Monday, the highlight of the trip begins – the attempt to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. I’m extremely excited and, admittedly, a little nervous as well. I REALLY wish I hadn’t told everyone that we were going to do the climb – that way if I failed, I could have kept my mouth shut and you would have been none the wiser. Alas, my efforts, and thus my success or failure, will be very much in the public domain by the end of next week. Pray for me.

Can't We All Just Get Along???

2006-07-26T11:52:00.000-07:00

Quick break from Cairo to post a quick entry.

Two things inspired this entry:

1) I visited Coptic (i.e. Christian) Cairo earlier today. There's a bunch of churches, including the Hanging Church, the only one I entered. Everything inside is written in Arabic. If Christians can read Arabic in their houses of worship, can't Christians, Muslims, Jews, etc. JUST GET ALONG???!!!

2) I'm sure you're all aware of the violence going on in the Middle East right now (isn't there ALWAYS some sort of violence going on in the Middle East?). Anyways, as you know, one of the main motivators for my trip to Africa was that Shashank is out here, and had blocked off a good chunk of vacay time to travel with me. Unfortunately, he's been in Cyprus/Jordan/Syria for the last week or so, and today the REALLY bad news hit. On Friday, he has to leave Syria for Beirut. He'll be there indefinitely (sorry to blow up your spot Shashank). So, Kili is off the map for him (he's even been working out for it!). It'll be just me and Peter. Obviously, I'm worried about Shashank, as Beirut is no place for anybody, let alone a frail little Indian boy like Shashank. Less obviously, I'm worried about myself. Peter and I alone for over a week? Peter thousands of miles from all the Hawaiian girls he knows??? Let's just say I'll be sleeping with BOTH eyes open all week.

Israel, Hezbollah, Lebanon (Syria? U.S.? Arab League?). Whoever the FUCK is in charge - get your shit together. Israel, if you wanna weaken Hezbollah - bomb them, not the goddamn UN (Israeli bombs killed 4 UN peacekeepers earlier today). What good does it do to block the roads so that Lebanese civilians - CIVILIANS - can't get food and other necessary supplies??? It's been how many thousand years and you assholes are STILL fighting your fucking holy wars!!!??? I'm a student with ZERO income, and this was a damn expensive trip for me. And, while you haven't RUINED it, you've made it a helluva lot less enjoyable.

Still Alive...

2006-07-19T06:39:00.000-07:00

I’ve been in Africa for a week, and I think I’ve gotten a pretty decent “lay of the land”. While I’m admittedly not slumming it on my trip, I’ve still been pleasantly surprised by the relative comforts and ease of getting stuff done around here. That’s obviously helped by the fact that I’ve had Shashank as my native tour guide for most of the trip (more on that later).

After arriving on Wednesday, the first couple of days were spent largely roaming, eating, drinking, and generally getting settled. It’s easy to forgot you’re in Kenya when you have one of Shashank’s several cabbie friends pick us up at the airport (Shashank seriously knows like every cabbie in the city it seems), take us to Shashank’s guarded apartment complex, and Shashank is driving us around in his ancient yet running Land Cruiser (not-so-affectionately nicknamed “The Beast” by Bhargavi). Then, you’re hit with a dose of reality when the mall where we had lunch has security guards in full army-style camouflage gear, carrying rifles in case anyone decides he wants to rob the local video store or grocer or fresh-from-the-U.S. tourist.

On Thursday, while Shashank was hard at work, I decided to explore downtown Nairobi, as I really had nothing better to do. I learned quickly that Shashank wasn’t joking when he said there isn’t much in Nairobi. The main street in downtown is basically littered with a bunch of small fast food places, electronics/cellphone stores, and other random retailers. Many of which, of course, are owned, or at least run, by Indians. After walking around for about an hour, desperately seeking some photo-ops, I explored a couple of the local parks, where the most interesting thing I found was probably the incredibly high soda vendor-to-civilian ratios.

Thursday night, I had the BEST $11 steak meal (complete with sides, salad, and drinks) that I’ve ever had in my life. Outback shmoutback.

We spent the weekend in Mombassa, which is on the Kenyan coast. As Shashank described it, it’s the “Cancun of Kenya”. While I’ve never actually been to Cancun, I hope all the spring-breakers who go there every year see more hot, young, horny 18-21 year-old girls than I did in Mombassa. Mombassa, at least at this time of year (it’s technically winter), seems to cater to a slightly older crowd – think more beach time and water sports and less booze cruises. In our efforts to get drunk, we hit up pretty much every non-hotel bar that was open in the area. On Friday night at Forty Thieves, we were having a good time drinking Jack Daniels, shooting pool, and debating whether the black girl (it’s not African-American in Kenya, FYI, so I’m not being un-PC) with the white tourist was a prostitute or not, when some drunken white Kenyan stumbled up to us and called all Americans twats. Thank you President Bush. On Saturday night, we hung around at the Tandoori Bar and Restaurant (seriously) for a bit, saw that it wasn’t picking up, then headed to Shakattack (not Shark Attack, despite the proximity to the beach), where the place was just as empty. At least there was a big screen showing a boxing match, and we were approached by a prostitute, which always makes for an interesting story. All we bought her was coffee, since I know you’re all wondering. Overall, despite the lack of good nightlife, we had a good time, enjoying the great weather, amazing food, and cheap beer. We even played some tennis and volleyball to stay somewhat active in preparation for our Kili trip. No, we didn’t have gay sex, thanks for asking.

No sooner than we had unpacked after arriving back in Nairobi did my trip, and Shashank’s life, take a somewhat dramatic turn for the worst. Shashank’s boss called from DC, and informed him that he had to go to Amman, Jordan to cover the ongoing violence in the Middle East. We celebrated by watching Superman Returns. Let’s all pray that low-tech Hezbollah missiles aren’t Shashank’s kryptonite.

Monday was spent experiencing the frustrations of a third-world country. Shashank had to book his tickets to Amman, and I had to pay for my ticket to Zanzibar, an island off the coast of Tanzania where I am going this weekend (by myself now – thanks Shashank and Bhargavi). Unfortunately, the Kenyan Airways system wasn’t accepting credit cards when we went in the morning, so we decided to have lunch and come back later to pay. When we came back, Shashank’s travel agent Rhoda was at lunch, and her understudy explained that she “did not have the confidence” to issue the tickets herself. Despite Shashank’s pleading for her to at least give it a shot, the lazy/stupid woman’s lack of confidence conquered all and she told us to come back at 2 when Rhoda would be back from lunch. After killing as much time as possible buying completely unnecessary stuff at the grocery store, we returned only to discover that the Kenyan Airways system was STILL not accepting credit cards. Off to the bank to hit the ATM and pull out about $800 in cash between the two of us, then back to the travel agent for the 4th time to finally get our tickets. After those exhausting efforts, we deserved and treated ourselves to some Scotch, a delicious Indian meal, and a shot of Grey Goose before sending Shashank off to the airport. Hope to see you again someday buddy.

For the last couple of days I’ve been on my own, which hasn’t been too bad. I’ve killed the time watching movies, taking care of some personal crap I have to get done before I get back to the U.S., and getting some desperately needed pre-Kili exercise. Had dinner with some of Shashank’s friends on Tuesday night and it was honestly one of the most, if not the most, interesting dinner of my life. Too hard to try to even explain in written words, outside of summarizing the group - a freelance journalist, a freelance photographer, an HIV-related NGO employee, a musician, a safari company owner (originally from Slovenia), one of his safari drivers (a native Kenyan), and myself. Needless to say, it was more interesting than the typical NY dinners consisting of analysts at Goldman/Accenture/[insert bank or consulting firm or accounting firm here].

In my efforts to keep this blog somewhat educational during my trip, here are some more highlights:

- Everyone here has been AMAZINGLY friendly. While that was to be expected of the hotel staff in Mombassa, I didn’t necessarily expect it to be that way everywhere. Every local that I’ve met – Shashank’s “staff”, waiters at restaurants, cabbies, airline employees, even less-well-off people like fast food workers, have been extremely nice, even though I obviously stick out as a ‘white guy’. In fact, despite how different I look, the locals have rarely stared. I’m not sure if they’re just used to awkward-looking Indian people enough to pay them no mind, but it’s been nice walking around, especially these last couple of days by myself, without everyone burning holes through my skin with dirty looks.

- It was somewhat surprising and admittedly sad to see the contrast between some of the areas I’ve been to. After seeing Nairobi for a couple days, I naively figured that was pretty much what all of Kenya was like. Poor but not “slummy”. Then we saw the areas around Mombassa and it was MUCH worst. Reminded me of the poor areas of India (although I was last there a decade ago). Shoddier buildings, much smaller, run-down houses. The locals just “looked” poorer, if that makes sense. The only reassuring aspect was that we saw what seemed like a lot of schools. Hopefully this means that at least future generations of Kenyans will be more educated and thus have better lives than their ancestors. Also – keep sending your old clothes to goodwill rather than throwing them out. I’ve seen some interesting items, such as a Chris Webber jersey back from his Warriors’ days, as well as a Chicago Bulls 1997 Championship t-shirt, that clearly indicate that somehow American hand-me-downs are getting to needy people.

- Nairobi’s a relatively safe city. Some areas are obviously worst than others – Shashank said to be wary of downtown, for example, but walking around I don’t really feel the need to protect my “valuables” or look over my shoulder. With Shashank gone, I’m not even worried about something happening to me if I went out at night – I’m more worried that I’ll get drunk and not be able to figure out how to get back to his apartment.

- It’s really interesting how connected the expat. journalists all are – besides welcoming Shashank back from Darfur and shipping him off to a warzone, I’ve already met a freelance photographer from Silver Spring, Maryland who recently followed Bill Clinton and his entourage around Eastern/Southern Africa (“extremely sexy” is how she described him), a British journalist who is trying to convince himself that he doesn’t HAVE to go to Congo even though every other Western journalist is there, an American journalist who got his current job at the AP in Addis, Ethiopia when his predecessor was booted out by the government for basically reporting the facts, another British journalist who has an incredible knowledge of American pop culture, and another American journalist who today is meeting with some cult that believes September 12, 2006 will mark the start of some sort of nuclear holocaust.

- Despite what you might think, it’s very easy to eat well here. Food is pretty cheap and, as long as you have some money, very plentiful. In Nairobi alone, I’ve already eaten steak, Indian food, Thai food (good but overpriced), and Swahili food (which bears a striking resemblance to Indian food – though maybe it’s just what we ordered).

- I don’t know if they’re locals or journalists or UN workers or whatever, but the gym where Shashank works out has some really hot Indian girls. I think I’ve seen more cute Indian girls in the few gym trips here than I did in my hundreds of trips to New York Sports Club. Yes, my gym trips have been noticeably longer than usual.

- People here seem to like their beverages at room temperature. Whatever you’re ordering – beer, coke, water - if you want it cold, you better say so. Tusker, the local brew, by the way, is a very good beer. What’s even better is that the standard-size bottle is 16 oz., not 12, and that it generally costs the equivalent of $1-2, even at bars and restaurants.

- Apparently the movie theater and mall are the Indian hotspots. About half the people at the movies and two-thirds at the gym are brownies like myself. Well, not quite like myself. I still stand out with the jeans and Cal hat. While eating lunch at the food court in the mall the other day, I saw a birthday party for some Indian kid, complete with cake and “Happy Birthday to You” singing – yup, right there in the middle of the food court. I also saw a flyer for some Indian party this coming Saturday. Unfortunately I’m gonna be in Zanzibar, but hopefully I’ll have the chance before I leave to add Nairobi to the list of cities where I’ve experienced bad Indian parties with unnecessary violence and 4-1 guy-girl ratios. Or maybe the 4-1 ratios explain all the violence. I never really thought of that.

Tomorrow I’m off to Zanzibar, then Cairo after that. Hope to have more to write soon. Pictures will likely be delayed, unfortunately, until I get back to the U.S.

Greetings from Nairobi...

2006-07-12T23:58:00.000-07:00

Whew. That was a long trip. After barely surviving back-to-back redeye flights (LA to London, London to Nairobi), I miraculously met Shashank at the airport on Wednesday morning in Nairobi without any major difficulties. Fortunately, despite being the capital of Kenya, Nairobi’s is a pretty small airport – I guess these Kenyans, unsurprisingly, don’t have a lot of dough to be globetrotting all over the place.

Shashank had told me in previous conversations that Nairobi is very much a city divided into two – not necessarily geographically, but culturally / socioeconomically. There’s the ‘locals’ i.e. the native Kenyans, where poverty and unemployment is widespread, and there’s the ‘whites’ – which pretty much applies to any professionals or expats, regardless of skin color, with leisure time and money to burn. Shashank and myself, for example, qualify as white. Don’t worry. I promise not to return to the U.S. and demand tax cuts and gay marriage bans.

The contrast was apparent within 30 minutes of my arrival. There was the taxi ride from the airport to Shashank’s apartment, which was pretty much what you’d expect of a taxi ride in a country such as Kenya. Crowded roads, a lot of noise, and people roaming everywhere. No cows though – which combined with the skin color of the natives was probably the only thing distinguishing Nairobi from a major Indian city. Soon, we arrived at Shashank’s apartment complex, which is basically a series of six 3- or 4-floor buildings with maybe 10 apartments in each building, surrounding parking spaces, all protected by a locked gate complete with unarmed security. While far from modern by Western standards (e.g. no elevators), it’s obvious his place is upscale by East African standards. As soon as we walked into his apartment, we were greeted by Joyce, Shashank’s twice-a-week maid, who made us coffee when we arrived and left soon after (because Shashank, dodging bullets/machetes/whatever else while in Darfur, somehow forgot to stock up on laundry detergent, so she couldn’t do the wash).

The apartment – again, for your average East African – is fit for a king. Two bedrooms, two baths (keep in mind Shashank lives by himself), living room with satellite TV, kitchen with relatively modern appliances, and a large office that I am writing this from, complete with unreliable internet service, a printer, and a fax machine that may or may not work. All for the basement-bargain price of around $670/month. I may have to consider moving here for a while as I pay off my soon-to-be-incurred business school debt.

Don’t get too jealous of Shashank just yet though. While he has it better than your average person out here, he still has to deal with stuff that we Westerners take for granted. There constantly seems to be something wrong with his apartment – a nonworking sink is today’s culprit. As we went out to get lunch, he was upset to discover that his mechanic had dropped his Land Cruiser off with practically no gas. He was even more upset to discover that his car wouldn’t start. Starving as we were, we called a cab and, while waiting, kept trying to start the car. Eventually, it worked, so we cancelled the cab, and headed to the gas station to refuel. Not surprisingly, the car didn’t start there either, so we had to utilize the manual transmission for a rolling jumpstart in 2nd gear. Shashank figured all the problems were just because his car hadn’t been driven regularly in a few weeks, a hypothesis that seemed proven when the car started fine an hour later after lunch. At this point Shashank called his mechanic and told him everything was fine. Five hours later, we tried to head out to pick up some dinner. Car wouldn’t start. Only now we were in a parking lot, so the rolling jumpstart thing wouldn’t really work. Thankfully Shashank had one frozen pizza left over at his apartment, and I think the mechanic is here as we speak.

Anyways, I’ve been here close to 24 hours now. Apparently, there isn’t a lot to do in or around Nairobi (thanks for telling me this before I decided to come here for six weeks, Shashank), so I spent most of yesterday getting settled, eating proper food for the first time in a week after the 7-11 coffee, Jamba Juice, vodka, jagermeister and beer that dominated my diet while I was in California, and sleeping off most of my jetlag. Will spend today (Thursday) exploring Nairobi a bit, and then tomorrow Shashank and I fly out to Mombasa for a romantic weekend at the beach.

New Addition to the Family Tree

2006-07-07T11:30:00.000-07:00

Well, as of Thursday July 6, it's official. I'm old.

My sister Nisha delivered a healthy, beautiful baby girl yesterday a little past 10am in Los Angeles. Mia Patel (I love the name) measured in at 19.5 inches and 6 pounds, 7 ounces (even the babies in my family are underweight). She's also surprisingly fair, considering both Nisha and my brother-in-law Rajan are somewhat dark. Needless to say my mom was thrilled with Mia's complexion. (I'll post pics as soon as I upload them).

The whole process was pretty eye-opening. Rajan came out to the waiting room at around 1030 or so. I walked into the delivery room with my parents and of course the first question was "boy or girl?", which the nurses wouldn't answer. So my mom had to sneak a peak to inform us that it was a girl. Then, within 30 minutes or so of the birth, the nurses took Mia away from my sister and the delivery room to take her to the nursery. So basically, after all the hard work of pregnancy and labor, Nisha 'lost' Mia within 30 minutes, and Rajan got to hang out with her in the nursery, watch her get cleaned up, and even go back home later in the evening for a shower and some food. Doesn't seem fair.

It's also pretty damn random how small a world it is. The resident who was helping out with the baby - Anuj's friend Arul, who I've partied with a couple times. Another of the doctors (or maybe it was a nurse) helping out - the roommate of this girl I met while partying in Santa Monica last night. Hung out all day at the hospital, and partied at night with a bunch of residents. Too many damn doctors.

Another List...

2006-06-28T03:07:00.000-07:00

So, the day has finnnnnallllly arrived. My last day of work. Starting tomorrow, I have an 80-day weekend, which will include trips to LA, Kenya, Egypt, Tanzania, Botswana, South Africa, Tennessee, the High Sierra and potentially SF or Vegas. I can't fucking wait!

I've done enough of the sappy "leaving NY" / "Last Friday of work" etc. posts. All I can say is that I have been walking around all day with a gigantic goofy smile on my face, and you all know I'm not much of a smiler. Anyways, I'm gonna try to lighten it up a bit here with a list of the Top 5 things I'm going to miss about work:

5) That amazing feeling that kicks in Friday afternoon, just after lunch, knowing the weekend is just hours away. Bonus points if Monday is a holiday.

4) Free high-speed internet and long-distance calling. I doubt I'll ever speak to Shashank again. The only upside is now when I'm surfing the web, at least all the porn and gambling sites won't be blocked.

3) Of course, the BlackBerry, which to me truly is a CrackBerry. Everyone is used to me responding to emails within about 1 1/2 minutes, so it's gonna be a tough adjustment for all of us.

2) Going to sleep at night knowing I have made a positive contribution to society. OK, I only threw that in there to see if you were paying attention, and b/c I couldn't really think of a 5th thing I'm going to miss about work.

1) The 15th and the 30th/31st

So, there you have it. I am now leaving the post-college work phase of my life and about to enter the MBA phase.

Enjoy the holiday weekend everyone. My next post will likely be from somewhere in the Third World. Feel free to lob in souvenir requests.

Things That Make Me Smile

2006-06-27T00:57:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Brian for inspiring this "I have nothing to do in my lame duck week at work" posting.

Things that make me smile (in no particular order):

The Eagles having a big lead late in the 4th quarter
24-hour Del Taco
The beach on a sunny day
Walking into my parents' house after a long time away
Ice cold 6-packs
Long weekends
New York fucking City
Sunday afternoons during football season
Bowling
3 hour dinners with nowhere to be afterwards
Greasy, drunken 4 a.m. food
Cal football games at Memorial Stadium
All-you-can-drink deals at brunch
Sports debates/discussions with the Tripathi brothers
Seinfeld references/discussions with the Bengali brothers
Drives to Vegas
Vegas
An 11 against a 6
A blackjack against a 20
Crazy Horse Too
The 15th and 30th/31st
Good hookah
Outdoor restaurants
Grey Goose Citron on ice
Promotions
BBQ's at my parents' beach house
Finishing a 5-mile run
Landing in a country I've never been to before
Old friend reunions, e.g. weddings, engagements, etc.
A proper steak dinner - hash browns, creamed spinach, a bottle of cab and absolutely NO steak sauce
80-day weekends

This is a partial list of stuff I can think of at the moment. So, what makes YOU smile???

Major Life Change - Input Requested

2006-06-26T04:00:00.000-07:00

OK, that was a bit of an exaggeration.

But, as my work life comes to an end, I have realized that the blog must be renamed. And, "I set this up b/c I have nothing else to do at school" just doesn't make any sense. There isn't any "face time" at school, so if I have nothing to do, I can just go drink, work out, chill on the beach, drink, drive around, stalk UCLA co-eds, drink, etc.

So, with that, I turn to you, my faithful 4 readers, for suggestions on what the blog should be renamed.

The Beginning of the End...

2006-06-23T02:58:00.000-07:00

Today marks the beginning of the end of my post-college, pre-MBA career. Including today, I have 5 more days of work left. Unbelievable. So much has happened over the past 5 1/2 years since I took my last final at Berkeley. (Amazingly, I actually remember that final. It was BA 150, Organizational Behavior. Being that it was my last final, I took a shot of some alcohol beforehand - can't remember what it was - fortunately grades didn't really matter anymore because, not surprisingly, I didn't do very well on that final.)

Since then, I've received my degree (barely - as anyone who was in Berkeley for my graduation ceremony knows), moved cross-country to New York, job-hopped a bit in New York, went through several different "core" groups of friends, and then moved even farther east for a few months, to London, where I have been working for the last 2 1/2 months.

And here I am, Friday, June 23, 2006. Today marks the "beginning of the end" because it's my last Friday as a corporate slut. Well, my last Friday as a corporate slut until whatever internship I start next summer. Since, as a working man, Fridays have always been my favorite day of the week, I'm suddenly getting very sentimental about work - not London, or Barclays specifically, or any co-workers in particular, just the concept of having a job. Even back when I was a scumbag investment banking analyst who regularly worked weekends, I almost never stayed past 7ish on a Friday evening. Thus leaving enough time to order a firm-funded (or client-funded) dinner and grab a couple drinks with co-workers before heading home to get ready for the REAL partying.

I remember, back when I was a first-year analyst, and still relatively young and energetic at 21. I would go out with my then-roommates, Vinay and Ramesh, and my first group of NY friends, including Vinay's then-gf, now-wife Anjali, their friend Pooja, and some of their other friends (with Anuj and Ali Haider occasionally thrown into the mix). We'd party til 3 or 4am at some Indian party at Metronome or Lansky Lounge, get some food and head home. Then, somehow, I'd wake up at 10 or 11 the next morning, hit the gym, and make it to work around lunchtime. Some Saturdays I'd only have to stay for a few hours, leaving the bulk of the work for Sunday, or, better yet, for someone else. But a lot of times, I'd have to put in a full 8+ hours even on a Saturday. Hungover, on not enough sleep. And somehow, I was able to do it, and often times I would even be able to rally to make it out Saturday night and repeat the same schedule on Sunday (except the going out at night).

Now, I'm a not-so-young, not-so-energetic 26. The Friday night NY partying crew before I left for London was completely different (except Ali). Anuj had left New York. Sujit had come and gone. Smitty had moved to New York and I was living with him and partying regularly with him. I somehow became friends with a whole crew of NYU kids who are all like 3 years younger than me (that's my shout-out to Poo, Ronak, Fake, Reena, Shef, etc. even though none of them read this). Even the partying had changed. The frequency of pre-partying had increased dramatically (as had the quantity of pre-partying drinks consumed). SoCo Lime was out (to an extent), replaced by Patron and Jager. Metronome was Strata. Lansky Lounge was God-knows-what. Post-partying food, at least as a group, was rare. One or more of us would generally be too drunk and thus leave, and 9 out of 10 nights (ok, fine, 99 out of 100), I'd stumble into a cab with Smitty and we'd go home together, occasionally slurring "Big Mac combo - diet coke" at the 24-hour McDonald's on 28th and Park (the diet cokes NEVER got drank).

The saturday mornings changed also. Fortunately, I was no longer an i.banker and thus didn't have to work weekends. Did I ever wake up at 10 or 11 to go to the gym? Fuck no. I would still make it to the gym occasionally, stumbling out of my bed and into my workout clothes at noon or 1. I'd walk downstairs, where one or more people would still be sleeping on the futon/couch, sometimes even the floor. I'd shake my hypocritical head with disapproval and head out to the gym. The problem is I'd still be hungover while on the treadmill, simply praying that if I ran long enough and fast enough, I could sweat out the residual alcohol. Then I'd come home and the futon/couch people would generally be half-awake, watching TV or searching for random chicks on Friendster (you know who I'm talking about). Not having to go to work, we'd just start drinking again to kill the time until Saturday night rolled around. I can't even imagine the wreck that I would be if I had to go into work on a Saturday. I honestly am at the point where I don't think I can EVER work weekends again.

So, there it is. My last Friday at work. Of course, it won't be the same being here in London. I don't really have anyone to get drunk with, so, quite ironically, I probably won't be hungover tomorrow. I might even make it to the gym.

Got 6 Model Chicks, 6 Bottles of...Dom P?

2006-06-16T00:58:00.000-07:00

I just read this article. Pretty damn funny. I wonder if Jigga is gonna go back and change the lyrics on each and every song where he mentions Cristal (including such hits as I Just Wanna Love You, Excuse Me Miss, Change The Game) and re-record them. Wouldn't it be pretty hypocritical for him to encourage a boycott of Cristal and then show up at 40/40 and see him bopping his head to "Might buy you Crist, but that about it..."

Bringing New York to Europe

2006-06-12T03:15:00.000-07:00

Apologies for not having posted in quite some time. The last 10 days or so have been pretty busy as I have been entertaining 3 of my friends from New York - Amit, Neil and Vishal (nicknamed Poo, Fake, and PB, respectively – don’t ask).

I should also caveat this posting by pointing out that this is the PG version. Well, probably PG-13 actually. There’s a new saying – what happens on guys-only trips in London and Spain, stays in London and Spain. At least for a non-password protected blog website.

The guys arrived on Friday morning, and the madness started immediately. You knew it was gonna be a crazy trip when Poo had lost his paper plane ticket and PB had lost his passport beofre I even got home from work on Friday. The weekend ended up being a par-for-the-course NY weekend. Ridiculous amounts of drinking on Friday night at a nice lounge called Embassy, coming home and devouring some food, and sleeping until like 2 p.m. on Saturday – clearly, sightseeing was not the guys’ #1 priority. When we woke up, we didn’t head for Westminster Abbey, or the National Galleries, or St. Paul’s Cathedral, but instead to a Tex-Mex restaurant for some grub, margaritas and beer. Then after walking around and people-watching for a bit, back to the apartment for a late afternoon nap. Apparently, sleeping until 2 p.m. wasn’t enough to recover from the previous night. Saturday night, more heavy drinking at a really cool hookah lounge/club called Isis. We were even lucky enough to encounter an Indian bachelorette party. Spent some time chatting them up, but unfortunately most of them had boyfriends and they eventually left to continue their party at another club, or maybe a strip club. I don’t really remember, as I was drunk enough that after leaving the club, I proceeded to puke in front of my building, and fall asleep fully clothed and fully upright on my living room couch. Good times! Fortunately, the guys (except poor PB who lost his passport) left the next morning for Barcelona, so Sunday was the typical Sunday spent relaxing and recovering.

After spending Monday and Tuesday recovering from the events of the weekend (my tolerance has declined dramatically since I moved to London), I boarded a plane to Madrid on Wednesday morning to meet the guys. During my Western Europe backpacking trip 5 years ago, Barcelona was easily my favorite city, and most people I’ve talked to said Madrid was even better, so I was super-stoked for the trip. We spent the first day wandering around the city, working up quite a sweat in the searing 90+ heat. We checked out the 2 major museums there, the Museo del Prado (historical art) and the Museo Reina Sofia (modern art, including a lot of Picasso’s work, including his famous Guernica, which was really cool to check out in person). Wednesday night at about 2 a.m. (we were warned not to bother going to Madrid clubs before 2) we headed to a club called Pacha. Nice place with a lot of sofas to lounge on, and 3 bars on the first floor alone. Since it was a Wednesday night, it was pretty slow (by Madrid standards), but we still managed to get pretty drunk, leaving the club sick from cheap vodka and non-light cigarettes.

We managed to wake up early enough on Thursday to get ready and head to the train station to catch the 1:50 train to Toledo, a small town about 30 minutes away that supposedly is an old-style Spanish town that hasn’t been commercialized. Unfortunately, the Madrid Metro did not cooperate. After getting stuck on the train for like 20 minutes, we realized we weren’t going to catch the 1:50 train as planned. Since the next train wasn’t until 3:50, we just said screw it, got out, and spent the day roaming around on an overpriced tour bus, eating/drinking, and doing some shopping (FYI for anyone going to Madrid – there are Zara’s EVERYWHERE and the clothes are much cheaper than they are in the U.S.). We went to the biggest park in Madrid, which was pretty disappointing, with the highlights being the ridiculously fat pigeon we saw and the guy in a Mickey Mouse costume who asked Poo for money when Poo tried to take a picture with him. We also tried going to the Royal Palace, but alas it had closed at 6 p.m. I don’t get why stuff closed so early there. People party so late into the night, you have to assume that many tourists don’t wake up until well past noon. Then the lazy Spaniards are all siesta-ing in the early afternoon, so how much time does that leave for all the other stuff? Quite annoying.

On Thursday night, we headed for a club called Kapital. After yet another bad Metro experience, we finally got to the giant place with its 7 floors. It was the first club I’ve ever been to that actually had a directory of the different floors, as well as an elevator. After grabbing a couple drinks and exploring the first couple floors (standard Euro techno), we found exactly what we were looking for on the 3rd floor - hip-hop music and cute Indian girls. Needless to say, we didn’t explore floors 4-7 the entire night. After strategizing for a few minutes and grabbing another drink, Poo and I walked over to the girls and started chatting them up in Spanish – just in case they were actually locals. Of course, within about 20 seconds, we discovered they were Indian-Americans, who went to Cornell (and eventually acted like it), and even knew some of Poo and Fake’s friends from New York. Unfortunately, there were only 2 of them and 3 of us. Which I guess worked out OK as Fake (the one with the girlfriend) did a good job of winging for Poo and I, which essentially consisted of staying on the sidelines taking some pictures, sneaking us gum, and buying all of us drinks. Things seemed to be going reasonably well – we were chatting, drinking, dancing for a couple hours. Then, inevitably, at about 4 a.m., we hit a wall. After buying the girls two rounds (vs. 0 offers on their part to buy us drinks), they stopped drinking. Then, one of them knocked over Fake’s drink (€11, or about $14 for those scoring at home), breaking the glass. No apology. Then they said they wanted to go back to their hostel and sleep (I’m pretty confident they were lying and that they were really at a 5-star hotel and just didn’t want us to know they were spoiled rich kids who don’t know how to slum it up when traveling). We gave them a little shit for wanting to go home so early while on vacay in Madrid, so they ended up sticking around for a while longer. Still though – they didn’t drink anymore nor did they offer to buy us drinks. Then one of them kept saying she was hungry, saying “I need fries”, over and over again. So, at around 6 or 6:30 a.m., we left the club, and went across the street to some restaurant and ordered a couple plates of fries. No, they didn’t offer to pay for the fries either. We left the restaurant at around 7:30 a.m. (pretty cool partying until well past sunrise), saying we’d meet them the next afternoon at the Toledo train station, knowing we’d never see them again. Sure enough, we never saw them again, although in typical Indo style, one of them found Poo and me on Friendster. Which reminds me, I should probably delete the link to this blog from my Friendster profile.

Amazingly, despite getting home so late, we got up on Friday and made the 1:50 train to Toledo. Poo and PB were even alert enough to meet a couple girls on the train, who we spent the afternoon touring Toledo with. It’s a pretty nice city, though it seems to have gotten pretty commercialized. A lot of restaurants (including, of course, a McDonald’s) and retail stores (including, of course, a Zara). It did have a very nice Cathedral, which I’m forgetting the name of now, and a very mediocre Mosque. We admittedly didn’t see some of the other monuments, as it was raining and overcast, so we headed back on a 5:30 train.

Apparently, Friday night in Madrid is techno night. No matter where you go. Be warned. After deciding not to go into Ananda (a very cool looking place – ½ indoor and ½ outdoor, with an amazingly beautiful crowd, even by Spanish standards) because of the music, we headed back to Kapital, where we hoped to find a large group of, yet again, Indian bachelorettes that we had seen from our taxi near our hotel. Just our luck, we weren’t able to get in - even though it wasn’t yet 2 a.m., the bouncer claimed not to have space in their massive club for 4 guys. So we headed back to the only other place we knew, Pacha. It was there that an American exchange student living in Madrid notified us that Friday is simply techno night EVERYWHERE in Madrid. How disappointing – a large city known for its amazing nightlife apparently only has 1 genre of music available to Friday night clubbers. After having a couple drinks at Pacha and trying unsuccessfully to enjoy the music, we headed to a place called Chesterfields that the exchange student had told us about. More techno music, mixed in with some Spanish stuff. Admittedly disappointing way to end an amazing trip. Got back home at 5:30 a.m., packed my stuff up, watched some really bizarre porn that was on public-access Spanish TV, drunk-dialed a few friends back in the U.S., and headed straight for the airport, in full clubbing attire. One of the most painful flights of my life, even at only 2 hours.

Spent Saturday afternoon/evening back in London getting some desperately-needed sleep, taking the guys on the London Eye (the only “sightseeing” Fake and Poo did in London), and getting the obligatory Indian food. Saturday night we literally bounced between 2 clubs – Pangaea and Isis, in our endless and ultimately unfruitful search for cute, single Indian girls, before learning one of London’s harsh lessons. Apparently, at 3 a.m., you have to choose between getting food and going home. We found a cab and instead of going home, we asked him to drop us off somewhere we could get food. He took us to a falafel/kabob place, where we happily and hungrily got out even though it was nowhere near my apartment. Ordered some takeout food and went back on the street trying to find a taxi to take us home. We walked for literally like half an hour holding our damn hands out trying to flag an empty cab. Nothing. Plenty of the shady mini-cabs stopped for us, but none of them knew how to get to my apartment. After half an hour or so, we said screw it and started eating our food right there on the sidewalk, spilling lettuce and meat/falafel from our overstuffed pitas all over the otherwise clean London streets. After another 15 minutes or so of desperate searching, we finally sucked it up and paid a private car £20 to take us home, where we finally arrived at about 4:30.

Now, it’s Monday, back at the office. I’m moderately recovered after spending Sunday resting, reading (if you haven't yet, read The Kite Runner - GREAT novel), and watching a very lackluster French Open men’s final (this so-called Nadal-Federer rivalry is starting to bear a striking resemblance to the so-called Federer-Roddick rivalry). But I sense I’m starting to get sick, as I pretty much always do after 4-day boozefests like the one I just had. But it was well worth it, and now I just count down the 18 days remaining until I hop on that BA flight at Heathrow to head back to LA, where I shall, as 2Pac encourages us all to do, live and die.

Here's some good pictures from the week:

At Embassy, a club in London:

The aforementioned Cornell girls:

At Kapital:

Go Poo!!!

At Retiro Park in Madrid (rocking the Zara):

Outside the Reina Sofia (home of, amongst other Picasso works, Guernica):

Aboard the London Eye:

June is FINALLY here...

2006-06-01T03:54:00.000-07:00

Although you wouldn't know it if you were across the pond here in London. It's been in the mid-50s and windy as hell all week, including today. Miserable. So much for Memorial Day being the unofficial beginning of summer. I guess it doesn't really apply here since this past Monday wasn't Memorial Day. It was, however, a bank holiday. When I asked my co-workers what the basis for the holiday was, they said there basically was none. In other words, it was just a holiday for holiday's sake. Interesting. It reminded me of those 'student free days' back in elementary school. Did you guys have those? You know, when students got the day off and teachers supposedly came in for meetings, etc. Though I never actually believed teachers came in on those days.

Anyways, as usual, I digress. I woke up this morning in one of the best moods I have woken with in a looong time. No, I had not just had a 'wet dream', but thanks for wondering. The reason for my rare good mood? The date on the calendar - June 1. Normally, I am always a big fan of the first day of a given month, for several reasons:

First, it means I got paid the previous day. This payday is magnified here in London since I don't have to immediately fork the money over for rent.

Secondly, it provides a great excuse to play "1st of Tha Month" on my iPod. Great song, which I'm sure even the non-hip hoppers recognize. As Chris Rock so aptly put it -"Ni**as is singing welfare carols!!!" (my favorite line - "I'm gonna run and go get my stamps. Watch and make sure no one snatches my check.")

Lastly, it means I get to literally turn the page on my calendar. What's the big deal, you ask? If you're even asking, you clearly haven't seen my Philadelphia Eagles Cheerleader Calendar. My favorite part of each month is flipping the page to the next stunning beauty. I haven't done that yet today - I'm saving it for when I get home. Needless to say, I will be leaving work even earlier than usual today. Save the masturbating jokes, please.

But this month is special. It's my last month here in London. I wanna caveat this (mainly so Bhargavi doesn't try to drown me in Zanzibar next month) by stating that I have NOTHING against London (except for the miserable food and weather). It seems like a very fun city, with lots to do and see, in the same range as NY (though no city in the world can live up to NY in my opinion). It's just that I haven't really had a chance to take advantage of it - which admittedly is mainly my own fault for not having met many people. So as you can imagine, I'm very excited because exactly one month from now, I will be chilling in my new and PERMANENT home of LA.

June also marks my last month as a full-time working man, for the time being. On July 1, I commence a 2 1/2 month vacation. The only things on my to-do list during those 79 glorious days - find an apartment, move in, buy a car, climb Mt. Kilimanjaro, and avoid liver failure. Notice I put those in increasing order of difficulty. After this 79-day vacay - 2 years in business school. At UCLA. Hopefully living near the water in Santa Monica.

June 30 can not arrive quickly enough.

The Montagues vs. The Capulets

2006-05-23T00:28:00.000-07:00

Don’t worry. I’m not reverting back to the days of High School Literature here. Frankly, I’m not even 100% sure which family was which. I think Romeo was a Montague and Juliet a Capulet, but I’m really not sure. Anyhow, I digress.

So I spent the weekend in LA as my cousin was getting married. It was one hell of a long flight (about 10 ½ hours each way) considering I was in LA for all of around 72 hours. But, it’s family. So, as I saw it, I really had no choice. Besides, wedding are always really fun, and I was able to use my parents’ frequent flyer miles for the trip, defraying much of the expense.

Anyways, back to the story. It actually dates all the way back to July of last year, at the engagement party in Silver Spring, Maryland, where the groom (let’s simply refer to him as G, for Groom, for the purposes of discreetness) and his family are from (my cousin is the bride, who hails from, of course, Cerritos, California – we’ll call her B, for bride). After a very civil engagement ceremony, we all headed to the groom’s parents’ house for a little post-game barbeque to properly celebrate the pending union of our beloved cousins. It was at this point that one of our female family friends (let’s call her S) informed me that most of G’s family doesn’t drink alcoholic beverages. Which is a direct contrast to our side of the family, which generally doesn’t drink non-alcoholic beverages, except for the next-morning coffee and water. Of course, at this point, I was afraid that there would be no alcohol served at the barbeque, and I deeply regretted leaving my bottle of Goose behind at the hotel. Alas, I was pleasantly surprised, as G’s family – despite not being drinkers themselves – were gracious enough hosts to stock their house with beer and liquor for our benefit. Whew! Anyways, that night ended up turning into a big, par-for-the-course, drinkfest – for our side of the family. It was hilarious observing, as our side of the family (aunties and uncles included) pounded drink after drink and shot after shot, while the other side just watched with their arms crossed and disapproving frowns on their faces. Maybe we would have been embarrassed about all this, if we weren’t so drunk.

Fast forward 10 months to Saturday’s reception. I quickly learned that G’s family – specifically, his female cousins, were not too fond of our group of cousins, which I just attributed to the engagement party and more generally the fact that we have one huge collective drinking problem. Color me surprised when I saw all of these female cousins boozing it up at the cocktail hour. Granted, these were a bunch of Patels, and the drinks were free, but I still found it quite hypocritical that they disliked us for our drinking as they chugged their glasses of champagne. Fast forward a few hours, after the speeches, first dance, dinner, etc., and pretty much all the “kids” – as we will be referred to by our parents until we have “kids” of our own – were tipsy/buzzed/drunk. So, it seemed peace had been made. Once it got kinda late and all the aunties and uncles got tired of dancing, and the rap started flowing, we all danced together in a big circle as one big happy family (sidebar – have any of you ever been to a wedding where the DJ didn’t play the 112/Biggie/Ma$e Only You Remix? I don’t think I have either. Great f’ing song.). Towards the end of the reception, we even started discussing postgame plans together. One of G’s female cousins repeatedly invited me and another male cousin on our side (R for the purposes of this entry) to their room to postgame, where she claimed to have “a shitload of alcohol.” Room 4361. She even put the room number in my cellphone, and it was NOT fake.

Fast forward another hour or so. I’m not sure how I got separated from my cousins, but somehow I ended up going up to Room 4361 with the groom and one of his cousins. It was then that I discovered that their “shitload of alcohol” consisted of maybe 4 oz. of vodka and a big bottle of bright blue God-knows-what. Maybe it was Hypnotiq, who the hell knows. Again, my memory fails me, thanks to the Patron shots and 10 or 20 7 & sodas I had at the reception, but the next thing I know, some of the groom’s female cousins kicked me and my cousins out of their room. What the fuck just happened? Didn’t they invite us up? Hadn’t I showed up with the groom himself??? After they closed the door to Room 4361 on us, we just kinda stood in the hallway with these blank looks on our faces, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Then one of them actually opens the door – not to invite us back in – but to tell us to leave the hallway. What the???!!! Still bewildered, we wandered down to the lobby to try to find our other cousins and figure out a new postgame plan. It was there that we ran into the bride and, soon after, a group of the groom’s male cousins and/or friends. Trying to figure out a gameplan with them, it eventually turned into a mild argument. I’m admittedly not sure of the context, but one of the guys then told my female cousin to “shut the fuck up.” Keep in mind, this was the female cousin who had been married about 12 hours earlier. Now, as all of you know, I’m not the most polite person in the world, but there are certain things even I won’t do – and telling a girl who got married earlier in the day to “shut the fuck up” is one of those things. At this point, the bride wanted to pretty much throw down and those of us with better – albeit clouded – judgment, held her back and said it wasn’t worth it. Though in hindsight I kinda regret not clocking the asshole myself.

At this point, it’s probably 1am or so, and so our side of the family just headed back to our room to kill the Captain Morgan and Jager that I had brought. Within a couple hours, the liquor had run dry, and the group had thinned to about 4 of us. At this point, S, R, and myself decided to head back to Room 4361. We knocked on the door – rather politely I might add – and were legitimately stunned when someone actually opened the door for us. It was at this point, we realized we didn’t have much of a plan. We kinda just wanted to wake them up and disturb their sleep I guess. So we made stupid, useless chitchat with the girl for a few minutes, then said our good nights. S decided to leave a little present for them – a cigarette stuck into the peephole of their room door. Of course, we would find out the next morning that the 4361 girls had simply assumed that this was the work of R and myself. I guess these Montague guys won’t be making nice with the Capulet girls anytime soon. Oh well.

MINOR REVISION:

So some other people who were at this wedding have emailed me offline. I'd like to clarify for the record that it was only a select group of the groom's cousins who disliked us, kicked us out of the room, etc. The rest - as I suspected based on the drunken fun we had at the reception - are not on the shit list. So if any of the groom's cousins/friends somehow stumble upon this blog - i'm not singling you out unless you were the ones who kicked us out of the room or told my cousin to "shut the fuck up". Glad we got that settled.

5 days from Hell...

2006-05-15T01:22:00.000-07:00

Ok. That title is really misleading. I just couldn't think of what else to call it. The last 5 days have actually been the funnest (yes, I know that's not a word), since I got to London.

My friend/birthday buddy from NY, Puneet, arrived in London on Wednesday morning. I've always known Puneet to be a fairly energetic guy - the type that wakes up early even after a long night of drinking, and expected him to be even more energetic given a) it was his first trip to London, and b) he has been doing absolutely no work for the last several months (kinda like me - though I at least have to show up and put in 10-12 hours a day at the office). So I was expecting a pretty busy few days of both daytime sightseeing, and nighttime partying.

However, I was utterly shocked at the amount of activities (save the gay jokes, please) we ended up doing. It really hit me yesterday evening, after coming back from the train station where I bid Puneet adieu, when I looked at the sofa in my living room. It's a really crappy, uncomfortable couch - the cushions literally sink in after one lies down for more than like 5 minutes. When I looked at the sofa at around 7pm on Sunday night, the cushions were completely intact. Neither Puneet or I had sat on the sofa for more than a few minutes at a time in the previous 5 days. Ok, that's not completely true. Puneet did fall asleep on the couch on Thursday night - sitting up, though, not lying down. I woke up drunk/hungover at like 9am to get some water, noticed he wasn't in the bed with me (queen-sized bed, so, again, save the gay jokes), and then found him sitting there, on the couch, completely asleep. Absolutely hilarious. Especially considering he was the one who was relatively sober on Thursday night.

So anyways, back to the weekend. I'm really too tired on this Monday morning to go through step-by-step everything we did. Nor do I think anyone wants to actually read that. But to summarize - between Thursday night and Sunday evening (when Puneet unsuccessfully tried to leave, showing up at Heathrow 58 minutes before his flight - unfortunately, 2 minutes to late to check in):

- we hit up Oxford (beautiful town) where we "punted" (the Oxford/Cambridge version of rowboating) and realized that going to Oxford isn't as intense as one might think. Puneet has a friend there who's a Rhodes Scholar, and he described his day-to-day life as "waking up around 10 or 11, checking email, getting lunch, working for a few hours in the afternoon/evening, and hanging out/coffee/movie with his friends or girlfriend". Hardcore.

- Checked out other London sights, such as St. Paul's Cathedral (with the most annoying tour guide I've ever seen - complete with his gay love/admiration for Sir Christopher Wren, the architect who designed the building), the London Eye (giant Ferris Wheel type thing along the Thames that gives you some great views of London), and the London Tower (which is really a Castle, so why it's called a Tower neither Puneet or I could figure out).

- Went to a couple of really nice restaurants, including this trendy Indian place called Mint Leaf. I made the comment when we first got there that it seemed like a really good date place (which I'll keep in mind in the off-chance I ever get a date while I'm here). Then we looked around and noticed that every table had exactly 1 guy and 1 girl - except for the table that had 2 guys and 2 girls, and, of course, the table that had me and Puneet. Good times.

- Hit up 5 bars/clubs in central London over the 3 nights. Despite the fact we were 2 guys, we generally didn't have many problems getting into places, thanks to this website that lets you sign up for guestlists for a lot of the trendy spots. Highlights of the evenings included:

1) Meeting an Iraqi girl who said she was happy about everything that's happened to America over there

2) Puneet falling asleep sitting upright on the sofa (I know I mentioned it earlier, but I felt like it also belonged in the "nightlife" highlights)

3) Puneet and I getting into a club only AFTER we ditched the one female with us - that's how drunk she was

4) £11 Patron shots. That's $20 for you non-Finance people.

5) Meeting a big Indian group at one of the clubs who were celebrating a birthday. One of the guys was real friendly with us, gave us some of their champagne and basically invited us to party with the group. His girlfriend then said to me "you need to get down right now" as I was dancing on one of the tables with some of them, and generally uninvited us from the party - for which the guy apologized. Kinda backwards, huh? Oh, and I think one of the other girls whose boyfriend had yet to arrive invited Puneet out the next night. He probably should've followed up on that.

6) Me getting followed down the street after getting denied from a club, and being slapped - with an ice pack according to Puneet (I couldn't remember if it was with his hand or some object) - by a bouncer. I'm not joking.

One hell of a weekend. Glad you came Puneet. Please add/amend for anything I've missed or misrepresented.

Goddamn I'm tired.

Will [insert gratuitous verb here] for a stronger dollar...

2006-05-11T00:30:00.000-07:00

So as most of you probably don't know, the US dollar has been getting its ass kicked by most major currencies. Hell, even the Canadian dollar is up 5% this year vs the dollar (yes I looked it up). Anyways, for most of you, living in the States, this obviously doesn't make much of a difference...except when you buy your 4-runners and Sony LCD TVs (does anyone own an American car or TV?). But for me, living here in London, I have been getting my ass kicked because of the pussiness of the dollar (sorry if that's misogynistic for any females reading this). Two examples (albeit with incremental circumstances adding to the expense):

Example 1: On Saturday, I looked in the mirror and realized it was about damn time I got a haircut. I usually get my hair cut every 2 1/2 - 3 weeks, and it had been 4 weeks since my last cut. Frankly, the reason I procrastinated so much was a) I really didn't know where I should go to get my haircut, and b) most of the lazy fucks here don't work on weekends, so it's tough to find the time. But on the suggestion of a friend, I headed to my local Toni & Guy, a relatively upscale chain of "stylists". I'll admit, it was a pretty good hair cut. The shampoo (from a woman, to be clear) was a few minutes longer than I'm used to (let's admit guys - this is by far the best part of the hair cut), and the guy cutting my hair managed to give me a proper fade without a) using clippers or b) knowing what a fade is. Cost? £42. FORTY TWO FUCKING POUNDS!!! That's around $77 at current rates. So the big dilemma, of course, was what the hell to tip on a £42 haircut? If I wanted to tip the standard 15-20%, I would have had to get a second job. I ended up tipping £5, got the hell out of there, and, needless to say, my hair will be reaalllly long when I return to LA on June 30th.

Example 2: Yesterday my friend Puneet flew in from NY. Figuring we had Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights to party, we decided to check out a show. Puneet stood in line at TKTS and paid half-price for pretty good seats to Les Mis. £25. Shit, half price tickets were like $46. Then, of course, yesterday evening happens to be my first bad Tube (that's the subway) experience. The Jubilee line, which is the only one that goes through the area where I work, was shut down because of 'passenger action' or something like that. What the hell does that mean?

So, anyways, if I was more experienced in my London ways, I probably could have figured out some bus route to get to Central London where the theater was, but of course, I understand the bus system about as well as I understand Ali's blog. So I managed to find one of the few available cabs, and proceeded to spend the next 40 minutes, and £21, headed to the theater. So, my 'half-priced' trip to see Les Mis cost about $85. Oh yeah, the show wasn't very good either. Too long, and too 'musically', even for a musical.

The only solace I can take in all this? Just check out what Shashank calls his link to my blog. I guess it all evens out in the end.

I give up

2006-05-08T03:30:00.000-07:00

As you can clearly see, this is my first post in about a week and a half. I intentionally did not write last week because I really wanted people to post comments to my last posting. But, as Anuj so intuitively pointed out, my friends/readers are clearly more motivated to respond to stories about drinking than they are about serious, "real-world" topics. So I've come to grips with it.

Anyways, so last weekend was a long weekend here in Europe. I hadn't traveled anywhere since I arrived in early April, and frankly I was getting sick of all the people back home asking me where I've been traveling to since I got here. So, after looking at airfares and weather forecasts, I finally settled on Edinburgh, Scotland.

Since I was traveling by myself, I made the money-saving decision to stay at a hostel. After picking up Lonely Planet Scotland from the local bookstore here by my office, I settled on a hostel that sounded like it would be relatively social. I figured that way I'd have a chance to meet some people, thus avoiding the depressing scenario of drinking Scotch all by myself.

So Saturday morning, after a relatively sober night of sleep, I woke up around 6am, ready to head to the airport and begin my first-ever trip by myself. Of course, I got to the airport ridiculously early, and, despite the fact that it was around 8am, decided I might as well let the games begin, so I headed to one of the airport bars to drink, of course, Scotch. All this really did though was offset the coffee I had earlier, and thus enable me to sleep like a baby on the 90 minute flight.

So I arrived in Edinburgh awake and refreshed, and hopped on the shuttle that connects the airport to the center (still not 'centre') of the city. As we drove by the Edinburgh Castle for the first time, I was absolutely mesmerized. I had seen pictures before, but it was still an amazing sight to see. In fact, as I was looking at the Castle for probably the 30th time on Sunday night, it was no less beautiful than it was the first time I saw it - that's how awesome and picturesque it is. Probably has something to do with the fact that it's built on top of a big hill and thus from many of the streets of Edinburgh, you're actually looking up at the Castle.

Overall, it's just a tremendously beautiful city. I lucked out in that the weather was great all weekend, and I can imagine it being pretty bleak if it's cold/cloudy/raining. Rather than going into detail-by-detail about the trip, I'll just summarize the sights I saw in the order I recommend them:

The Castle. You could probably spend an entire day here if you want to check everything out in detail. Even I, far from the avid sightseer, spent a solid 2 1/2 or so hours here. I think the most interesting part was, as I toured the barracks where they housed POWs back in the day, I learned that, in addition to the standard meat, cheese and bread, POWs received a daily allotment of 2 pints of beer. Not too shabby. Also, if you're there at 1 o'clock, be sure to check out the firing of the 1 o'clock gun. Skip the audio guide though. Total waste of money.

The Scotch Whisky (no 'e' the way they spell it) Heritage Centre (i'm only spelling 'centre' this way b/c it's the official name of the place). I guess this isn't really a must-see unless you're into scotch/whiskey, which I'm not so much, but liquor is liquor. There's a tour where they go through the whole distillation/aging process, and at the end, if you pay a little extra, you get to taste 4 different scotches - one from each of the major scotch-producing regions in Scotland. There's also a store with all sorts of brands/ages of scotch. I'm not even a huge scotch fan, but I still managed to spend £75 on the stuff, mostly for my friends back in the US. Shashank - that Oban stuff better be good.

Museum of Scotland. Huge museum that, if you're into history/museums, could take a whole day or maybe even longer. I'm really not so into that stuff though, so I made like Lens Crafters and was in and out in about an hour.

Calton Hill. It's this 'hill' that's really not all that difficult to climb to the top of, and very overrated. Maybe I would have enjoyed it more had I gone at sunrise or sunset, but at 10 in the morning it was pretty damn unimpressive. You get some good views of the city, but nothing that you can't get from the Castle. I guess maybe it could be kinda romantic, but since I went up there like I go everywhere in life - by myself - I didn't really get that aspect of it.

Other than that, I just did a lot of wandering around. I actually enjoy just roaming more than I do a lot of the sights, since you can really get a good feel for the city and its people by just blending in and observing. People overall in Edinburgh were really nice, and based on the limited time I was there, the girls are much better looking than in London.

Oh - and last but not least, I did end up drinking Scotch by myself, but only at the Scotch history tour place. Unfortunately, the hostel was nowhere near as social as the Lonely Planet described, so I didn't get a chance to really experience the nightlife, though just based on walking around on Saturday night, it seems it's very much the pub scene. I did enjoy watching Lakers-Suns Game 4 at the bar next to my hostel on Sunday night. Way to blow a 3-1 lead Lake show. Go Clippers!

A serious topic - really, i'm not joking

2006-04-28T01:21:00.001-07:00

So I was reading this article. My first thought when I saw the headline - before actually reading the article - was, "Princess Diana didn't have AIDS, did she?" So as I read on, I realized she was a huge AIDS activist, not a victim.

I'm not sure how one thought led to another, but somehow I started thinking about "celebrities" that have had AIDS. The first name that popped into my head was Magic. No last name required for most of you reading this. Although Magic's HIV never turned into full-blown AIDS, I think he was the first big celebrity to be diagnosed with the virus, at least in the U.S. I still remember the day the announcement was made, and how shocked everyone was at school the next day. [sidebar - i just tried to remember the year that the announcement came, and I thought it was 1991. Sure enough, it was November of 1991 - I am not a Lakers fan, so I was impressed with my memory]

So I pose a question to anyone and everyone out there - was what happened to Magic a good thing? Maybe it's an obvious "Yes", since it brought a lot of attention to the disease, safe sex, etc. Maybe it's an obvious "No", since a hero to many people was forced to retire from the game to battle this tragic disease (though he did later un-retire). Maybe it's somewhere in between.

As for me, I lean pretty strongly towards the Yes camp. I am not a Lakers fan, so Magic was not really a hero to me, though as a huge NBA fan, I obviously admired his game and success. He has gone on to live a relatively healthy life (though he is quite fat), and is now a very successful businessman in Southern California. Most importantly, without having any statistics to back this up, from my naive perspective, I have to assume that what happened to him somehow lowered unprotected sex and thus HIV incidence somewhere - maybe throughout the US, maybe throughout California, or maybe just in Southern California, or Inglewood (always up to no good). On the other hand, if he hadn't retired, maybe that God-awful late-night show he hosted, The Magic Hour never would have happened.

Anyways - I'm curious to hear people's feedback/thoughts on this. Especially the doctors out there.

Operation Falcon II

2006-04-27T09:07:00.000-07:00

First, read, or at least scan this article

Is it just me - or is anyone else troubled by the fact that "the arrests were...timed to coincide with National Victims Rights Week"??? Sure, this probably makes for a better headline. But shouldn't law enforcers arrest violent sex offenders and get them off our streets as soon as is humanly possible?

And for anyone who responds that the timing this year is merely a coincidence, "Last year's sweep netted more than 10,000 fugitives, 10 times the average in a week"

Usually I only say this when Smitty is preparing to attend an 18+ Indian party, but mothers and fathers, PLEASE, lock your daughters at home

Free Gas in California

2006-04-26T08:49:00.000-07:00

No, not the kind inspired by 39-cent taco night at Del Taco. Check out this article from cnn.com. It sure would be nice to have all that nice, juicy Iraqi oil flowing through right about now, wouldn't it? Sheetal, hope you're having fun in that gas-guzzling, overcompensating monstrosity you drive around in.

2nd Weekend in London

2006-04-24T01:25:00.000-07:00

This weekend was painfully short. After getting 4 days off for the Easter holiday the previous weekend, a 2-day weekend just didn’t suffice. But it was a lot of fun and I managed to do quite a bit in the condensed time. Enjoy:

Friday Night

Friday night I met up with Trishna and Seema, two of my good college friends, and Trishna’s husband Deep. It’s funny how every one of the college friends I have that now live in London are females. Two because they met British guys (and, like women should do, followed their men to their native countries) and two others for work / school. Not one guy friend. I know it sounds gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that), but I really would have liked having at least a couple male friends to go partying with while I was here. Maybe it was not meant to be. I’m trying to view it in a positive light. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll actually learn a thing or two about women in the next couple of months. Granted, in 26+ years, I failed to learn anything about them, but you never know.

Anyways, we first met up for dinner at a semi-chain Indian restaurant. Dinner went quite quickly, as Seema and Deep in particular seemed EXTREMELY eager to move on to the ‘main course’ of the evening, i.e. a trip to one of the local casinos. After dinner, however, Deep and I realized we both needed a couple drinks to a) wake us up, and b) give us at least a half-ass buzz before heading to the casino. I’m not sure why it is, but I just can’t gamble sober. At least not in a casino. Admittedly, I acknowledge I shouldn’t always be as drunk as I am in Vegas casinos, when I sometimes forget the chips I’m playing with can’t in fact be bought at the local Duane Reade. Anyways, I digress. We headed to a bar/lounge called Meza, in the SoHo area of Central London (between SoHo, Chelsea, the ridiculously expensive prices, and the minimal work I actually do, I really feel like I haven’t left New York). When we got to the bar, I was excited as it was the first place I’d been to in London that serves Grey Goose. Of course, at £8 a pop, I had to savor every last drop. After 4 Grey Gooses, I realized I just wasn’t gonna get drunk, so at about 1 or 130, we decided to hop in a cab and head to the Victoria Casino on Edgware Road.

Some of you have probably been to casinos in London or elsewhere in Europe. Quite a contrast to Vegas or AC. Firstly, you have to be a member, or the guest of a member. So Deep (who seems to have as much of a gambling problem as I do, only he actually has the income to afford it) signed up as a member and the rest of us entered as his guests. Secondly, you have to be dressed up. No jeans and flip-flops, my standard Vegas gambling attire. Instead: slacks, dress shoes, and a collared shirt. Not comfortable.

When we sat down to play blackjack, I noticed that it was a casino where other people could bet on your hands. I’ve heard about this from people who’ve played blackjack in Canada, but had never experienced it firsthand. Quite a bit of pressure, when I’m playing a £10 hand, and some random is betting £50 on my hand. I can imagine other people letting this affect the way they play. Fortunately, I don’t give a flying fuck about some random dude’s money, so I played as I would have anyways. If they wanted to bitch and moan, they could play their own damn hand. Pussies.

Third annoying thing about the London casinos: no free drinks. When the cocktail waitress came around, I ordered a vodka soda, and then turned back towards the table. She taps me on the shoulder and says “Sir that’ll be 3 pounds 50.” Fuck. I pull a 5 out of my wallet and hand it to her. Fourth annoying thing: she comes back 5 minutes later with my £5 note and tells me the bar has closed for the evening. Fuck again. What kind of operation are they running? Don’t they realize that drunk gamblers are more stupid with their money?

Anyways, I should stop complaining, because by the end of the night, I was up £325. And if I had been drunk, I probably would have gotten cocky and kept playing only to lose it all. Fortunately, I was dead sober and knew my luck would run out eventually so I wisely walked away. Still, I ended up the big loser in the group, as Seema and Deep each won around £500.

Saturday Afternoon

Not much to report here. Since I got home Friday night at like 4:30 a.m., I pretty much spent Saturday sitting at home, eating and watching TV. The Seinfeld marathon was key, though I really wish they would stop just showing all the Season 1 episodes over and over. I love Seinfeld, but I liked it a lot better in the later seasons, when George became a loser of epic proportions, and when Elaine became a bitch.

Saturday Night

Carol and I decided to start Saturday evening off with a comedy show. We tried to go to a relatively popular place called The Comedy Store, which of course was sold out as it was a Saturday night with great weather to boot. So we ended up at this place called The Upstairs Comedy Room or something like that (we found out about it from one of those guys on the street corner with a big sign). It was basically a tiny little room of maybe 30 seats on the second floor of a pub. Admission was £5, so we figured we’d give it a shot. To sum it up, you get what you pay for. Some of the acts were decent, and some just plain sucked. After 5 of the 7 acts, we decided we’d had enough and that we needed to continue drinking in a different environment, so we peaced out and hopped on the tube to meet up with some of Carol’s LBS friends.

In London, like the casinos, a lot of the popular clubs require memberships. So one of Carol’s LBS friends is a member at this club called Westbourne Studios. London is more of a pub/bar town, so this was the first real club I had been to since I got here. Definitely a unique place. Extremely diverse crowd – large groups of Indians, Asians, white people, black people; as well as people dressed up in proper clubbing attire, some dressed in suits, and some wearing t-shirts and baseball caps. The club had a large open area, a small dance floor, and a lot of sofas / chairs for just lounging. A lot of American music was playing – ranging from Kanye to Jacko. One unique aspect was the pool and foosball tables in the middle of the club (yes, with people enthusiastically playing). The REALLY unique aspect was the fact that this place doubled as an art gallery of some sort. There was even a small room with a bunch of paintings that you could actually buy. I walked in and took a couple pictures, telling the artists how much I admired their work, but pointing out that I am visiting from California, hence providing a built-in excuse to not have to buy anything.

When we walked towards the bar, I was elated to see that, for the 2nd consecutive night, I was at a place that served Grey Goose. Hooray!, as the 3 double vodka-sodas I had at the comedy show had failed to give me anything more than a weak buzz, which was pretty much gone after the tube ride (yes, I realize the term ‘tube ride’ sounds really really gay). Of course, by the time I squeezed my way through the crowd to order, I noticed the Grey Goose bottle was missing. What the fuck??? I tried ordering Goose anyways, and the bartender hit me with the painful news that they were out of the good stuff. Of course, the Indian dude next to me apologizes and says it was he that killed the last of the Goose. Motherfucker. So I had to settle for a Ketel (pronounced in London as ‘Katel’, i.e. ‘Patel’ with a K)-soda (a double, of course). After 3 double Ketel-sodas, plus the 3 I had earlier in the evening, I was still pretty much sober. In fact, in the 2 weeks I’ve been here, I’ve still yet to be drunk. I know – quite a shocker for those that know me. I’ve been buzzed, tipsy, etc. But not drunk. And I really miss it. So I’ve made the important decision that starting next weekend, I’m cranking it up a notch. That’s right. Triple vodka-sodas. I don’t give a damn what kind of dirty looks I get from bartenders. I figure if I’m drunk, I can shrug off those looks a hell of a lot easier.

At around 2 or 230, we were all pretty tired and decided to take off. Of course, we were kind of in the middle of nowhere, and there were no cabs to be found. We headed to the nearest tube station/bus stop – but of course the tube is closed from like 1 a.m.-5 a.m. to give the cab companies some business. We tried calling a cab company, who informed us it would be 30 minutes to an hour. Not expecting to wait that long, we told him to come anyways, figuring that if we decided to leave, there’s no loss for us. Of course, the cab company was a step ahead of us and basically said he didn’t believe that we’d still be there. What to do? So I hop on the bus with all the LBS students. It’s important to note here that I live nowhere near LBS. In fact, I live south of where the club is, and LBS is north. This doesn’t make sense to me, but I still don’t know London all that well and my phone battery is on its last legs, so I figure I’m better off at least being with some locals. So finally, we got off at the bus station near where the LBS people live, which happens to be an easier place to find a cab. I hop in, and about 20 minutes (and £20) later, I’m finally home. Man, I miss New York.

First Weekend in London

2006-04-18T01:20:00.000-07:00

I gotta admit. I could get used to this. Arrived in London last Sunday. Then 4 days in the office. Then a 4-day weekend for Easter, and now I begin a second consecutive 4-day work week. I even realized that, based on when I plan on using my vacation days (a short trip to LA for my cousin's wedding, and a few random days off for long weekends), I am probably looking at a maximum of 3 5-day work weeks while I'm here.

Anyways, on to the weekend. Unfortunately, nothing terribly exciting to report. As I've mentioned, I only have a handful of friends out here, and several of them left town for the long weekend.

Friday I basically spent relaxing at home, which was much needed to finally recuperate after the many weeks of partying in NY.

Saturday, I wandered the area of what I call "central London" - Leicester and Trafalgar Squares, Piccadilly Circus, etc. I'm not really sure why this appealed to me, as I've roamed this area countless times on my previous London trips, but at the very least, I managed to refamiliarize myself with the area. The best part was that I discovered that I actually live within walking distance of this area.

Then I met up with my friend Carol from Berkeley, and we went to the Earl's Court Exhibition Center (not 'Centre') to check out the Bodies Exhibition. Since I spent most of my weekends either sleeping or drinking, I never managed to check it out when I was in NY, but it was well worth the trip and highly recommended to anyone that comes to London while it is still here. Hard to describe the exhibition in words, but I'll refer you to Ali's blog as he posted about it a while back. Here's a couple pictures:

After this, I proceeded to drink for the first time in a week (seriously), and eat yet another bad steak. After going 0-for-2 with steaks in London, I've vowed to myself that I'm not gonna waste the artery-clogging calories on any more London steaks. However, I did manage to try 3 new beers on Saturday, which I'm pretty sure is a personal record for new beers in one day. My favorite was Kronenbourg 1664, a popular British beer (the Kronenbourg White Beer, which I tried on Monday, was even better and Carol actually preferred it to Hoegaarden - which I consider sacreligious).

After waking up with the inevitable Sunday hangover (why did I switch to Grey Goose after starting with 4 beers???), I attempted to do laundry in the washer/dryer in my apartment. The washing seemed to go okay, but drying was another story. I'm not sure if I just wasn't using the machine properly, but I ended up having to dry my clothes for like 200 minutes before they were sufficiently dry. I think I need to find one of those wash & fold places.

Then, the last 2 days of the weekend was spent pretty much wandering a lot more. The only places worth noting were an area called Camden Garden, which is a very Berkeley-like area of markets, shops, tattoo/body piercing parlors, and restaurants - complete with the Berkeley-like goth vibe; and the Mexican restaurant I went to for dinner on Monday night. Can't remember the name of the place, but I was very pleasantly surprised that there is at least 1 place here that serves proper Mexican fare. Obviously it doesn't compare to Del Taco or most other California Mexican restaurants, but it was relatively authentic Mexican food, with good drinks, and the only place I've seen so far that serves Patron. Needless to say, I will be back.

Lastly, just to answer the typical questions that people have been asking - the weather has been surprisingly good, with very little rain (although I still carry my umbrella with me practically everywhere I go), the food, generally, sucks, and the people have overall been nice. Now that people are back in town, I hope to pick up the pace of partying and actually entertain the 3 of you that read this regularly with some better stories.

Business Trips - Then vs. Now

2006-04-12T08:49:00.000-07:00

Work has been reeeeally slow since I started on Monday. So I've basically been looking for an excuse to post something and it just hit me.

From an outsider's perspective, I think my current business trip (technically called a "secondment") is pretty glamorous. Round-trip business class flight. Three months in one of the biggest, most exciting cities in the world. Corporate housing in a hotel-like building. A per diem that more than covers my food and transportation expenses. A healthy, guaranteed bonus at the end of the stint (I can not emphasize the guaranteed part of this enough as it makes me very unmotivated at work).

So yesterday afternoon as I watched the clock waiting for an appropriate go time, my mind just started wandering, and I thought about my very first business trip. I was a first year analyst at Wasserstein, and it was October 2001. My MD and a Director had a meeting in Seattle, and I was working on the pitchbook. For a West Coast trip, standard practice would be to work all night, finish the books late morning/early afternoon, print them and then bring them up to my bosses' office before their late afternoon/early evening flight.

Problem was, my bosses had a meeting in Boston the day before their meeting in Seattle, and were flying straight from Boston. So, after pulling an all-nighter finishing the books, scrambling to get them printed in the late morning, and then having to bind them myself for some reason I can't recall right now - you guessed it. I hopped in a car and headed for La Guardia. Delta Shuttle to Logan. After being "randomly selected" for additional security screening (granted, this was a month after 9/11 and I was a brown person who hadn't shaved in over 24 hours), I boarded the plane, passed out since I hadn't slept yet, and woke up in Boston. Since my bosses were flying out of a different terminal than I was, I literally had to run from my terminal to theirs carrying a bunch of pitchbooks. I found my bosses, gave them the books, and even got a couple "trooper" compliments for making the trip.

Fortunately the trip wasn't a complete waste, i.e. I DID manage to leave the airport and grab dinner with a friend in Boston. Nevertheless, it was one crappy trip, and it makes me realize how far I've come in the last 4 1/2 years.

Gotta love being a first year analyst. Memories to last a lifetime.

Across the Pond...

2006-04-10T04:26:00.000-07:00

Before I get to the London part of this post, I just had to say that I had a fantastic time at Reena and Smitty's Bday/my going away party on Friday night. Granted, Reena and Smitty picked about the worst possible place to have it - 2 floors and only 1 bar, no Patron or even semi-decent Tequila, and only 1 bathroom on the top floor, which, as many of you know, became a major issue and eventually forced me to leave early. F'in Smitty!

My last Saturday in NY was also memorable - a great brunch with the usual crew and the usual amount of drinking at HK, then some hookah. Even though I'm positive she doesn't read this, a special shout-out to Shef for calling me and preventing me from being iPod-less for 3 months. I owe you big time.

Got to the airport early, so continued my drunkenness by downing a couple brews at the BA lounge. Very useful as I was able to pass out before the plane even took off and managed to get a decent night's sleep on the plane.

Arrived Sunday morning in London. After spending an HOUR waiting to go through passport control (lazy Europeans only had like 3 of 10 booths open), I was rushed to a car by the driver of a car service. He literally said "no, I'm in a rush" when I asked if I could stop at the ATM for some cash. Normally this would not be a big deal, but I'll explain later.

Got to my apartment and was just amazed. Since it's corporate housing I expected it to be pretty nice, but still I was impressed. The building has a very hotel-like feel, with the concierge, porter, gym, business center (I refuse to spell it "centre"), etc. My apartment was even more impressive...1 bedroom place, with a big living room, separate dining/work area, and fully-furnished kitchen. The place even has a washer/dryer. Needless to say, it will be a great place to crash for any and all who decide to visit. As I told Shashank earlier today, "Corporate Housing 1, Living with Smitty 0"

Spent the rest of yesterday roaming the residential area I live in looking for an ATM, eventually having to walk like 10 minutes to the nearest bank (Barclays baby!), doing some grocery shopping (essentially milk, water, diet coke, cereal, and a couple frozen dinners), buying a cellphone, and watching whatever American TV was on (limited to The OC, Friends, and Everybody Hates Chris...no ESPN in the apartment).

Today is the first day of "work" at the new office, and fortunately I haven't had much to do outside of setting up my computer and opening up the obligatory Barclays bank account with the help of the obligatory Indian banker. There are literally like 5 people in the office right now, in a 20-odd person group. I honestly don't know where anyone is, and don't really care as long as no one starts giving me work to do.

That's all for now. This weekend is a 4-day weekend here in the UK so hopefully I'll have some interesting stories to tell.

Countdown to London

2006-04-07T16:12:00.000-07:00

It's Friday, 7:11pm right now. I'm sitting in my room, which is largely empty save for a couple suitcases and all the furniture I am leaving behind for my roommates. My flight for London leaves in 25 hours and 19 minutes.

The last couple weeks have basically been a nonstop party. My last day of work here in NY was last Friday, and then a bunch of out-of-town friends came in for a weekend full of sunshine, Patron, brunch, Grey Goose, bowling, more Patron, beer, partying, Captain Morgan, picture-taking, Scotch, dancing on bars on Sunday night/Monday morning at 4am, and just a little more Patron. I'll spare the details, as Terence's post has got the weekend down cold. All in all, a FANTASTIC time.

Then this week has been low-key partying, sleeping in, and packing. It all culminates tonight, with the combined bday parties of Smitty and Reena as well as my going away party (I suspect there is a bigger going away party planned for tomorrow at 831pm.)

So for the last couple of weeks, I hadn't started getting sentimental. But on Tuesday, when I was at a reception for NY-area Anderson admits and alumni, it started hitting me, as whenever anyone asked what I'm doing for the next several months before school, it always started with "I'm leaving NY on Saturday to go to London for a few months." And now, with the empty apartment, packed suitcases, and going-away party that starts in a few hours, it has FINALLY officially sunk in. I am leaving New York tomorrow. 4 years, 8 months, and 30 days since I moved here (yes, I remember the exact day that I moved here - July 9, 2001). OK, I realize I'm just rambling at this point.

To all my NY friends, whether still in NY or not, it's been an amazing time. I couldn't have survived these years in this city without you and all the alcohol we've shared together. To the Cali peoplez, i'll be home and ready to tear it up in the sun on June 30.

Goodbye New York. I'll miss you :(

Now that I've figured out how to add pictures to this (really not that difficult), here's some good ones from my last full weekend in NY. Enjoy.

French Protests

2006-03-29T05:32:00.000-08:00

I'm sure by now, most of you have read about the protests in France. If not, the brief synopsis is that unions, inspired by young people, have been protesting a proposed law that would make it easier to fire (and thus from an economic perspective, easier to hire) people under the age of 26. Well, the protests have been going on for at least a week now I think, and have started to turn mildly violent.

So, as I was watching the news this morning, a thought occurred to me. Am I the only one who thinks that if the French worked even 25% as hard as they protest, this whole issue probably would have never came up in the first place?

Vegas Baby!

2006-03-21T07:36:00.000-08:00

So I just got back from a 4-day/4-night trip to Vegas. By a full day, this was the longest time I had ever spent in Vegas, and man did I feel the consequences as I was about to take off on the red-eye Sunday night. Enough pain/lack of sleep/alcohol withdrawal that I took Monday off to recover. Unfortunately this didn't quite work as I feel like I have bronchitis right now from all the secondhand smoke (thanks Terence and Gaurav).

The trip was AMAZING. As any guy reading this surely knows, Thursday-Sunday was opening weekend of March Madness. 48 games in 4 days. I probably watched some or all of about 3/4 of the games, missing the remainder only due to the requisite naps. Yes I know what you're saying - who naps in Vegas? Normally I never do, but they become absolutely necessary when you're partying/drinking/gambling until 830am and then heading straight to a Sportsbook on no sleep.

I won't waste people's "valuable" times with all the details, so here are a few highlights. Aashish/Gaurav/Terence, please add comments with anything that I missed - my memory is understandably hazy:

- 2 strippers in a row thinking me and Terence were brothers (we've gotten this plenty of times before, but never by strippers). The best part was one of the strippers not believing me when I said we weren't related and demanding that we do a genealogical study. The second best part was Terence shouting "incest" when one of the strippers gave me a lap dance right after giving him one (emphasis on "after" - not "during" - for any smart-asses out there).

- An asshole USC alum, who had bet against Cal, while we were watching the Cal game asking me "What's your team for college football?". To which I responded, "I went to the same college for both football and basketball." Yup Shashank, these are your classmates.

- Coming straight from the blackjack tables at around 830am, back to the room, to start drinking Grey Goose before heading out to watch basketball. I think I took like 4 showers a day to offset the lack of sleep.

- I must be spoiled by New York steaks. We went to Delmonico's, which is supposedly one of the best steakhouses in Vegas. Comparable prices to some of the best steaks in NY. Quality, in my opinion, did not even come close. I am gonna miss New York. My arteries will not.

- Great ego boost being carded pretty much everywhere I drank/played cards. I understand it's Vegas and they're just being extra careful, but after turning the depressing age of 26, it was still nice. Plus some fat girl that one of my friends (to remain nameless for his sake) was trying to pick up on guessing that I was 22. Good times!

- Went to a great, relatively new club called Tao, in The Venetian. Of course, since we were 4 dudes strolling up to a club with a line that was at least an hour long, we had to pay the bouncer $50 each to get in, but it was well worth it. Great club, definitely recommended to anyone going to Vegas anytime soon. Be careful though - it's a huge club and in my state of non-sobriety I got lost and separated from my friends on more than 1 occasion. Thank God for text messaging.

- Slight tangent from Vegas. But one of my friends I met up with there has a Treo phone. Did you know you can download porn onto those things? Again, good times!

- Terence de-virginizing one of my friends from LA. A guy friend no less. Ok that sounded pretty bad. All I meant was that T generously paid for the guy's first-ever lap dance.

- Gaurav running around the Luxor casino at 10am (after another night of no sleep) going up to any random person he saw - male, female; old, young, it didn't matter - asking to take a picture with them. Gaurav, you have no shame, but I loved it. I haven't laughed that hard in ages. I'm not technologically savvy enough to know how to put pics up on my blog, but check out Terence's as I'm sure he'll have some up soon.

Like I said, those were just some highlights. Outside of that, it was pretty much 96 hours of watching basketball, playing blackjack (broke even, which is a win in my book), partying, getting lap dances, and drinking Grey Goose, Patron, Jager and Miller Lite. Now, back to the NYC for 19 more days of the same before I head out of here.

Good times!

P.S. Check out Gaurav and Terence's blogs (links on the right). G's has got some great stories and I'm sure T's will as well.

Tao:

Grey Goose at 830am:

It's Starting to Sink In

2006-03-13T12:37:00.000-08:00

First off, for those of you who I haven't told, I recently made the decision to accept an offer to go work in London for a few months. Basically the same group I am in now, so the work will be similar. My last day of work here in NY is March 31, then a week off to move out of my apartment, then off to London until the end of June. (Sidebar - I have only like 3 friends in London, only 1 of whom is a regular partyer, so if any of you have friends out there that are somewhat tolerant of people like me, please either send me their contact info or send mine to them).

So the countdown is officially on. 26 days until I leave New York, after 4 years and 9 months. Hard to believe I've been here a full year longer than I spent in Berkeley. Time sure does fly when you're an investment banker (for 3 years) and drinking heavily (for 4 years and 9 months). I'm trying to make the most of my final days in this amazing city by going out as much as is humanly possible for a 26-year old with liver problems, which this past weekend meant being either drunk or hungover pretty much every waking hour.

Anyways, back to the inspiration for this posting. Earlier today, I cancelled my gym membership (you have to do it a month in advance). Since I've been too lazy to start packing any of my stuff up yet, this was really the first "Before I leave NY" errand I've done. And man, it really hit home. Fortunately, outside of packing, I don't have too many of those types of errands to run - I can just see myself trying to ship a few boxes back to LA and breaking out into overflowing tears before some deranged USPS worker "goes postal" on me and ends it all before I even leave. Knock on wood.

Here's to making the last 26 days ones to remember.

Once you go Vegan...

2006-03-06T08:13:00.000-08:00

OK, not really gonna end that statement the way it normally ends. I still need my steak, chicken, shrimp, salmon, turkey, milk, etc.

But I went to this Vegan restaurant in the West Village called Gobo last night with a few friends (having Jain friends is money when it comes to finding the best veggie food in the city). Both me and Smitty, the only 2 meat-eaters in the group, were very pleasantly surprised. Frankly, I'm still not exactly sure what it is we ate - there was definitely some Tofu as well as some sort of soy thing with a nice, meaty texture.

Anyways, for anyone who lives in the city - veggie or non - I would highly recommend trying Gobo. I definitely learned a lesson in that not ALL of my meals have to involve something that used to breathe.

Of course, we ended the evening smoking hookah and drinking Grey Goose and Jager shots. Had to do something unhealthy to offset the food.

Born into Brothels

2006-02-21T06:21:00.000-08:00

FINALLY saw this movie yesterday. I had wanted to watch it way back in the day when it was playing in the theaters, but most of my friends thought it would be too depressing and I didn't want to go by myself. Well, they were right. It's without a doubt a sad story - all the more because it's a documentary, so you know that all the stories are real-life, not just commercial Hollywood dramas. That said, it's a GREAT film, that should definitely be watched. I particularly recommend it to Indian-Americans like myself who are lucky enough to have 'rents that were smart/determined/brave enough to leave India to make better lives for their children. Now, I'm not saying we all would have turned out to be pimps and prostitutes had we been born/raised in India, but clearly this movie shows how good most of us have it.

Now that I've got you guys all depressed, I'll try to lighten the mood a bit. It was interesting that the movie came up on Cinemax. Unfortunately, I was too damn out-of-the-mood from the movie to keep it tuned on Cinemax for the good stuff that comes on later in the evenings.

London

2006-02-19T10:45:00.000-08:00

Apologies for not having posted in forever. Frankly, I'm trying to do you all a favor by saving you the time from reading about my generally boring life.

Anyways, I had to go to London for a few days for work. Most people I told thought it was SOOOO cool that I got to go there, on the company's dime no less. What they don't factor in is the fact that I landed at Heathrow, took a quick shower at the airport (Thank God for the BA lounge) and went straight to the office. Not very glamorous.

So I got there Wednesday morning. Busy few days at work, but I had a chance to have dinner with a few college friends on Wednesday and Thursday nights. But seriously, the food in London is just awful. Went to a Lebanese restaurant on Wednesday - the wine was good, the prawns less so, and the hummus even less so. Thursday I went to an Argentine steakhouse. Firstly, I can't complain enough about the measured amount of liquor in drinks in London. Plus the fact that the best vodka you can get there appears to be Ketel One - I didn't see Grey Goose in any of the restaurants or bars that I went to. Secondly, the steaks sucked. I mean, it was still a steak, but being a New Yorker (for a few years at least), I've gotten used to a proper steak, eaten without any kind of steak sauce, with nice sides like creamed spinach and hash browns (neither of which was even an option at the place we went - we had to settle for a mediocre asparagus). So I've come to the conclusion that from now on, I shall eat nothing but Indian food when I'm in London - the only food that they know how to make over there.

Somehow, I was able to ramp up my productivity on Friday, despite being moderately hungover, and was able to get out on the last flight out of Heathrow. Left London at around 9pm and landed at JFK at 11pm. For the first time in my life, my bags were like the first ones off the plane, and I was able to scramble into a cab, back home for a quick shower, and still made it out by around 1230. I felt like kind of a party trooper - how many people would go out after a 7 hour flight from a place 5 time zones ahead? Or maybe I'm just an alcoholic. Party trooper sounds better though. In any event, my alcoholism/love of partying was rewarded with a good night out and to top it off, me actually getting asked out (yes by a girl) for maybe the first time in my life. Good times!

As some of you who I've talked to know, my job at Barclays here in NY is no longer, effective March 31. They've offered me a position in London for approx. 3 months if I want it. I haven't gotten all the details re: $, housing, etc., but I'm seriously considering it. London seems to be a fun city, and I imagine it's a little funner if I'm collecting a paycheck and not paying rent. Anyways, if any of you have strong opinions as to whether I should take the job or just f*ck around for a few extra months before business school, PLEASE let me know cuz i'm really struggling with the decision.

Best gift EVER

2006-01-13T13:36:00.000-08:00

Check this out

http://store.beertaps.com/jagdis.html

FYI, my bday is coming up, wink wink. If all 5 of my friends pitch in, it comes to only $69 a person.

UPDATE: Scratch that. I'm never drinking Jager again.

New Years in Istanbul

2006-01-04T12:06:00.000-08:00

So as many of you know, I spent the holidays, including New Years, in Istanbul, with Shashank, Bhargavi, Sujit and Terence. For those of you that don’t know, Istanbul is located in Northwestern Turkey (surprisingly I actually do have a friend, to remain nameless, that never even heard of Istanbul until I told him/her I went there…even more surprisingly, this friend was NOT Smitty).

Istanbul is an AMAZING place. There’s so much history when you travel to places like this, it really puts the U.S. to shame. For instance, we visited the Aya Sofya, originally built as a church in the 4th century. Over 1,600 years ago. Compare that to the U.S., where pretty much everything was built in the last few hundred years.

I won’t get into all the boring minutiae of our trip, such as all the sights we visited and every bar/club/restaurant we walked/stumbled into. Instead, a few highlights/anecdotes:

·First and foremost, props to Bhargavi for hooking up a tight apartment, just off Itsiklal Caddesi, a long street lined with restaurants and retail shops. Huge, 2-bedroom, 2-story apartment, with a rooftop that would have been much more useful during a summer visit. Compared to a hotel, much more conducive to watching Family Guy on my portable DVD player, pre-gaming with drinking games not played since college and cooking (apparently that $40k a year Sujit is dropping at HBS has taught him how to make one mean omelette)

·If you ever visit Turkey, bring your own liquor. A lot of it. Fortunately we had the prescience to do so. Hard alcohol is HEAVILY taxed there. Most places we went to, drinks (except for wine and the local beer, Efes, a solid Pilsner) were running $15-25

·You would not believe how hard it was to find hummus on our trip. Seriously. Only 1 restaurant we went to had it. Poor vegetarian Sujit. Thank God for kebabs and being a carnivore.

·Squeezing 5 people in a cab was very cost-effective, but not nearly as easy as it was back in the NY days with Anuj

·No overseas trip would be complete without the gratuitous police run-in. Ours occurred around 2 or 3 am on Thursday night after a drunken few hours at a club called Babylon. While we were stumbling home (OK, I was stumbling, the other 4 were simply walking), Sujit, T and I were approached by a few plainclothes demanding to see our passports and/or Visas and/or money. When Bhargavi showed up a few seconds later however, and we explained (in that broken English that you always speak in foreign countries) that we had an apartment just down the street, they let us go. No bribes, no jail time.

·New Years’ Eve was spent at a club called Reina. We basically picked the place because when we called they said the music would be varied, including “international”. International basically ending up being “Candy Shop” and “Drop it Like its Hot”, but hey, it was the only non-iPod American music I heard the whole trip, so I’ll take it. It was a nice club right along the Bosphorus River. Very upscale scene, basically the crème de la crème of Istanbul and 5 random Indian tourists. $100 for unlimited drinks (clearly a good deal given the price of liquor). All-in-all a good time. When compared with my options of spending New Years at a club in NY, LA or SD with a bunch of bumbling, stumbling drunk idiots, I obviously made the right decision.

·The flight home was interesting. I made the mistake of flying Turkish Air, which had clearly overbooked the flight. And I don’t mean 5 or 10 people being offered $500 vouchers to take the next flight. There was some computer glitch and they seriously must have overbooked by at least 50 people, probably much more. So, after a 3 hour delay, rather than boarding by rows, they just told people to get in line and basically there was a mad scramble to get on the flight, at which point, we were told to just grab whatever seat we could find. I was one of the lucky ones, and I can only imagine how many people were stranded in Istanbul until the next day’s flight.

Overall summary – Istanbul is highly recommended, particularly for those that appreciate history. Great historical sights, good food, good-enough nightlife. I can’t speak for the rest of Turkey, but it seems like a country that would be great to explore (ideally during the summer) for a few weeks on a backpacking trip.

Happy New Year. Go Trojans.

Merry Christmas

2005-12-26T10:04:00.000-08:00

All right, it's a day late. I spent Christmas at Amit's (aka Poo) sister's house in New Jersey, playing drinking games, watching Miami beat the Lakers (how 'bout that Shaq interview after the game?) and dealing with Poo bitching about his pink eye or whatever the hell eye affliction it was.

After dinner, we were off to the merry spot of Atlantic City. We survived the torrential rainstorms and Ronak's inability to properly throw the change into the toll collector, and arrived at about 10pm to a surprisingly packed AC. After a couple shots of Jager, we split up - me, Ronak and Poo's sister to blackjack tables, and Poo to a roulette table. After about 5 hours of gambling, we had done pretty well as a group, despite the challenges caused by dealers who didn't realize that 18> 17 and random-ass garden staters following me to the cashier asking me for money to play cards. Most importantly, I was up about $700, which should fund a good chunk of my impending trip to Istanbul. We then headed to the buffet at the Taj (which I am SERIOUSLY regretting right now) and back on our merry way around 4am.

My flight leaves for Istanbul in about 4 hours. Very much looking forward to popping a sleeping pill and passing out for the majority of the 10 hour flight, and waking up to some good hookah and hummus.

I'll try to post from Istanbul where I will hopefully have some remotely interesting stories. Happy New Year.