Holy sheesha!

Pookah. Hookah. A few puffs later, I'm blowing smoke rings and all is cool in my new found world of charcoaled apple tobacco. Yes, I have finally tasted the pleasure of the sheesha. The therapeutic sonic buoyancy of smoke bubbling through the apparatus, mixed with a few tracks of Sting, made for a nice way to end yesterday evening. And despite the inches of snow that had accumulated since we popped in off Ste Denis, all was well. On the last evening of my vacation to the place that actually is, I felt at home.


Neha Dhupia stars in Sheesha, a Bollywood production that has nothing to do with tobacco, but everything to do with eye candy. Make that smokin' eye candy.

















Unfortunately, Seb and I had to settle for this contraption, also known as a hookah. Yep, I can hear the howling already...










Ironically, I find myself talking shop with Ken's friends J and S, who are like the younglings of the infamous Dept. of Pathology at M. It is simultaneously humorous and refreshing to watch the thought processes of those just embarking on the great scientific journey; to thesis and beyond. How I wish I still had the freedom to take on entire studies destined to fail - if only out of sheer curiosity and little else.

Of course, this all occurred after piles of sushi at Odaki, formerly Sakata, Ken's mom's Chilean sea bass, and a terrific serving of the Opera cake from Premiere Moisson. While it may not have the color and vibe of Napa, but it certainly is near the top.

Spent the afternoon with Ken and Angie, who has the best of a few worlds. Biggest regret for the day: hesitating and not buying the Rugby jacket on sale. Part of that hesitation did come, though, from the salesguy who kept winking at Ken. I swear I've seen you at Style Exchange said Yvon. Yep, such is the inseparability of pretty boys and pretty clothes. The haircut is beginning to backfire a little bit, but Veronique tells me it's still in the growing out stages. I'll be ready for primetime in...two months she says cheerfully. Somewhat oddly, everyone at Tonic is pregnant. From the stylists to the hair-washers, to the cashier with fingers much too short for a human. I wonder what brought that on?

Walking down Ste Catherine on the last day of Boxing week, I see it is bustling. Shops are filled with eager teens, wannabes, and parents who are just happy to go along with it all. I notice that a new Tommy H shop has appeared at the corner of University, and that le Club Supersexe has renovated its entrance so that a beautiful semi spiral staircase now leads its expectant guests to the sultry goods waiting above. Indigo has enlarged its cafe section, and Mexx has doubled up against it, displacing the unremarkable shop that used to be there.

Interestingly, the Google ads are finally beginning to make sense and soccer-themed ads have appeared for the first time.

Note to Lifeng: the ipod-baby link is not an ad; it's just for people to go in and wander. The real ones are on the left above the blue looking thing that says "ads". Visit them each day of 2006 and I'll buy you a mochaccino.

Frivolous Laika

It's pretty drab and depressing outside. Grey snow, black slush, and the sky's an uncool shade of dark grey. Ken and I are sitting in a beatnik bar called Laika, in honor of the dog that made it to space before people. Nothing special went on today except that I have been relieved of about 75 bucks. 50 for a nifty cut that will dissolve in the shower tonight, 10 for lunch and the drinks we're having now, and another 15 on the fact that United drew with Birmingham City. For those unfamiliar, no-one is familiar with Birmingham, most notably because they are so awful. To rub insult to injury, Tottenham actually lost to West Brom, the Birmingham of London. I guess the only consolation is that Kanu scored both goals after coming back from rehab of a congenital heart defect that led to his release from Arsenal. In his subsequent search for the meaning of life, he built a hospital in Kenya for orphans with his own money. Let's hope my bookie has the same sensitivities and gives generously to the African cause this new year...

Ken is deeply immersed in his new copy of Strut. For $5.95, we've already been heavily educated that: a) Elisha Cuthbert (chick) used to be a foot model (as though implying no one had noticed her face before); b) there are baby outfits available for dressing up your baby as an i-pod (odds for Nano as name for Gwyneth's next child: NA); c) the greatest Italian sports icon of all time will be carrying the torch to Turin - his name is Giorgio Armani.

I would have thought that being on vacation and having lots of spare time would mean lots of opportunity to update. To be honest, the chances have been there, but somewhere between the 12+ hours of sleep daily, grinding thru the entire season of 24, and running a few colonies of midbrain cultures, I had neglected to do so. Being back in town, home for nearly a decade, is definitely calming in a sense. And while driving with Ken isn't always the most uplifting part of the day, it is fun to hang out, shop, chat, and experiment with the recipes from a pretty fruity cookbook.

The reason that I can update at Laika is twofold. Firstly, I have been carrying around my laptop all afternoon since I'd left it at the lab last night and missed it. Secondly, while Philly is still looking for its tail about free wireless internet for all, iles-sans-fils is already a realitée on the island of Montreal and works [somehow] without public money. Go figure. Maybe there's a more sinister side to it like it actually acts to steal credit card numbers and passwords while people do their online shopping at hip Russian bars, but I'll be careful of that.

Drive it baby!

While walking down centre city this evening, I got a peek of the new Pontiac Solstice. It's form is actually very impressive, reminiscent of, let's say, a 2001 BMW topless. Performance is as stellar as the perennial Civic, but it does come with a free On-Star subscription. All this was not nearly as salient as my first reaction to seeing it - it has a unique personality. In fact, so much so that I reckon it closely resembles someone in our midst. Free slice of pizza to the first person to guess correctly!

In the meanwhile, things have probably hit bottom with a marathon meeting this morning, another failed experiment, and hovering on the borderline ill. Not to mention that both Tampa and Ottawa lost tonight. On the brightside things can only move up from here.

Spent the better part of the evening at Borders in the culinary section reading about Charlie Trotter, fusion chutney, and how to fry tuna properly. It's fun to be around books again, especially when there's no cramming involved and no exam to follow. Tricked by the gift-wrappers that my $1 donation would go to a clinic nearby rather than the LBG club.





Topless from the top.

Odds and ends

Promise to self: never place bets just to see what might happen. Because whatever the answer might be, chances are you'll lose! Lesson learnt - Villareal is not to be trusted. Ever.

In the meantime, thanks to Pheebs for her card. You've brought much laughter to Jacky and I this year, even if it is often out of ridicule. Nonetheless, laughs are a good tonic. Also congratulations to Kay and Thomas on their approaching delivery. Every pair of hands which click the ads make a difference!

Most outrageous discovery of the day: believe it or not, I'm allergic to the rubber on the bottom of my own tennis shoes. Yep, seems like everytime I drag my toes and rub a little shin, I get a spectacular rash. Basically, that's every Wednesday that I'm not serving well. What were the chances of that?

No shame, no gain

I'll make you famous.
- Jon bon Jovi, in Young Guns II

This morning, Deepa requested to see the rest of the photos that weren't posted. In the afternoon, Lauren demanded that they be posted. In particular, she was adamant that portraits of some handsome hound go up. Given such popular demand, I have relented and posted them on the Outro page. If all the regrettable photos which you may have been part of don't put some red in your [facial] cheeks, then the movies certainly will. Yep. Click in to view highlights such as Eliza's ketchup-karaoke and Dave's vision for what Outward Bound should really mean. Lastly for the record, James is featured in four photographs, rather than the single one he claims; Patty is found in just one more (5), but only if you count the one of her nose. The stoner football stud featured by Lauren's side is also in a total of five frames (can you spot them all?). Hopefully, if Matt reads this before tomorrow night, he'll also know there's a small party at either New Deck or Cavanagh's to which everyone else has already been invited...What me pity?

Half-glass of Yuengling defends James' honour.

Netsetso

That's my own little moniker for internet-settee sociologist, which roughly describes what I am between 10:30 and 10:45 each evening as I scan through my blog, Ken's blog, and the blog on the Next button. From these three, I draw my conclusions and decide what the current state of the communicating arm of the internet is. In turn, these help form my opinions on other web-users for the day. This ranges from high hopes for our current generation (from the dude who posted some really eloquent and persuasive essays our appetite for oil and bad politics) to outright pithy (too many). Conclusion for today: people are harder to please than piss. I guess I should've figured that one out myself much earlier, except the people around me are normally such, um, agreeable.

Taking advantage of the great odds offered for professional twister, we made a killing this weekend.








On a more practical note, I'm ecstatic that readership for this month so far is nearly 40% higher than the entire November. While a significant portion is likely due to the visits to the photos posted yesterday (esp someone who visited 2 dozen times within 24h - unfortunately, this thing doesn't tell me who), general traffic is also up. The other big peak was back in August when I put up the photo of Maria Sharapova around the US Open. I think the sociology of this pattern is clear. Readers like photos, especially if they're hot like Maria, or members of the CNDR. Thanks also to all those who clicked the ads so that I've earned a collective $5.25 last month. That's enough for 1/36 of a shot for everyone at next year's party.

Thirteen timezones away, Asian farmers watching the Chelsea/Arsenal match caught the hint and scored their own win at the Hong Kong WTO meeting - an end to subsidies in developed countries. Unfortunately, their punt doesn't pay until 2013.


Soccer betting 1: Trade diplomacy 0.

It's what you see that matters

Alas, everything is in the eye of the beholder. Thus, images are one of our most valuable resources.

Sort of like money, except they can convey complex messages (as opposed to a $1 bill, which says only one thing - cheap).

At about the same time last year, I coloured a ripe Philipino mango like a Kodak instasnap as a practical joke for Jamie's bacherlorette party on the streets of LKF. While we didn't capture any images, we did get lots of attention and phone numbers. Thus, simply the thought of an image is sufficient to provoke profound emotions, especially if the viewers are drunk.

Let'go of my Mango. In truth, I have absolutely no clue who these people are.

The point of all this? To demonstrate that cameras are fun and convince James to buy Patty one for Xmas so she can start a blog of her own...

La vie en-toxique

Woke up yesterday to the gentle beat of water hitting the ground. It's actually a very therapeutic sort of rhythm, excellent for those mornings when you want to remain entrenched in the bed/sofa where you're already situated. Therapeutic bops are welcome - except when it's from your ceiling and there's already a large puddle amassed in the middle of your living room. Fortunately for me, this was to be the biggest mess I'd encounter over the next 24 hours.

Waking up at the bright hour of 9am, there were no clean-ups, no slippery objects, and no strangers within the apartment. I also woke up in the right apartment - my apartment - which means the previous evening was sufficiently, but not excessively, wild. The event in question was our very own lab Holiday Party. The bosses' orders were simple. We've paid the tab; now drink it dry. Given the recent news of NIH cuts and all, we complied with gusto to ensure none of the money went to waste.

Creation: Matt sells his soul to a higher power

If it weren't for the state of Florida imprinted on the top of Mikhail's head, you could never tell him apart from his evil twin Tse-dong.

Almost another one

Today's little failure came courtesy of the Penn Quakers who managed not to lose in double digits. Another dollar mistake to be forgotten. Extremely tired today after yet another long day, having rushed in early to finish off some data for yet another meeting. I will be looking to see what our meeting schedule is for next week given that Friday will already be the 23rd. Now that my beloved Pichia (not to be confused with Pikachu) are behaving, things should be more bearable, and happen faster.

It's hard to believe it's already the end of another year. Birthday, then Christmas, then January coming one after another. Last year, I was watching the one of those cheesy year-end round ups from the comfort of mom's fancy armchair, marveling at all the events that had happened (actually not much) while simultaneously sulking over the fact that I wasn't spending Christmas in Phuket as per habit. I still regret not having had a tropical holiday before beginning my new travails, but at least I'm not doing it under 6-feet of fine beach sand. I'm sure the TV producers must have bitched mightily as well, since they had only 3 days to remake their Top10 of 2005 documentaries, and technically can't save them for the 2005 edition since we'd all have forgotten by then.



End of year also makes me reminisce about the images of the year, which in turn makes me think whether I'd ordered my Worldpress Photo book for the year (hint for those looking to gift me anytime soon). It's hard to believe I ordered my first copy in 1992, and that the organization (whose mission I'm still not very sure of), is now in its 50th year.

Houston, we have lift-off

If a good day is one in which you get what you want, then today was a good day. I got my poster finished, 4/4 on the money, and groceries done. Yep. That, my friends is a good day. Thanks Yao, for making it 6/6.

Just another lazy Saturday

To some people, the glass is neither half full nor half empty, but somewhere in the middle. When you sit back and look at all that you've done for the year, it becomes apparent that a lot, but not enough, has been done. Thus there have been significant gains, but no BMW. Binders worth of exciting data, but no Nature paper. 36,000 km logged, but still no pressing need to get a second armchair. Which leads to the question: what do you do on a Saturday that is relatively free? Sleep a little more (sore back), scrub the toilet (sprained wrist), bet on Valencia (sore loss) and make a quaint little meal (cut finger). Maybe just living at the lab is a better option.

Also not seeing things straight is Super Mario, who has decided he will not play at Turin this year. Not that the result will be any different given the 82-man roster that Team Canada came up with earlier in the year. If all of them were to play, each player would see about 5 minutes of action for the entire winter Olympics. Fortunately, there's enough depth north of the border to win all this hands down anyway - not to mention that it will all be fixed again (remember Belarus?).


If you thought that the air in China is filthy and outright toxic, you're right on the money. But even China does not measure up to the new posterboy for global air pollution - Tehran. Almost entirely unnoticed for two weeks now, the city has come to a halt with schools and offices shut down as a smog cloud has taken residence 50 feet above city buildings. Perhaps nuclear capacity for these people isn't such a bad idea. Then again, their engineers could simply put their efforts together to build a better catalytic converter.

Why buy the cow?

Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?

There was no way I would ever have come up with that one. The title belongs to a sociology essay on the topic of why couples couples choose to cohabit before marriage. I'll make the bold assumption that a guy wrote the article (who knows?). I'll take this as my little bit of Ivy education for the day.

In my continuous attempts to scrape an extra few bucks, I gave the ads recruiting participants for clinical studies a quick glance. Thinking aloud about my suitability for trials on high cholesterol, menopausal symptoms, and smoking, I finally settled on one on sense of smell. After all, I should excel as a hound. But even before I dialled the number on the little pink paper stub I'd just torn off, I got a response. Somewhere, apparently, participants in MRI trials are paid to the tune of 100 bucks an hour for an entire afternoon, I was informed. I normally don't take well to people interrupting my thoughts, even when they can be heard. This time, it was a little bit different as I was acquainted with my new favorite 6' tall hospital employee. From now on, I will frequent the bulletin board by the cafeteria more often.

Back on earth, I was awoken at an insane hour this morning by a phone ringing. When the caller ID is blank, it can only mean one thing - caller from the wrong timezone. The funny thing about this is the actual number of people on the other side of the planet who have forgotten where I live, seemingly oblivious to the 15-digit number they have just composed on the phone. At 4:15 this morning, I played thesausrus for an email to the sales team in greater China about a shipment 2 days late. At least I heard her voice three hours early.

Better luck tomorrow Dawg

The more things change, the more they stay the same. New bet, same result (loss). Ronaldo and Robinho may be a bust, but Adriana, Gisele and Alessandra more than pick up the slack. Even without House, the tube is my best friend for tonight.

It's only December, but clearly Brazil has already won the World Cup.

They're only miracles if you see them

It would have been just another 20 in the bag. Thank goodness for ESPN and video replays. Duke's little heroic, at the misery of preferred underdog VTech, was definitely a moment. But to put things in perspective though, they have done this over a dozen times before. Just by turning on the box, this moment has now engrained itself as a miracle in my NCAA-challenged mind. I wonder what other little gems I'd missed today?

Don't blink, you don't know what you may be missing

Fun therapy

On a recent CNN feature, Katlyn (of which there are some 50,000 across the country) was referred to a therapist by her parents for excessive internet activity. In particular, they had issues with her blog, which she spent approximately 3 hours updating daily. Of course, if this sounds rather insane, it doesn't compare that she gets nearly 6,000 hits daily. Yes, that's a lot of hits. Even more insane is that she's only 16. Definitely puts my blogging to shame. I wonder how much revenue she generates? Likely very little, otherwise her parents wouldn't complain. Then again, they're probably aware that it's a very fine line before both clothes and revenues take off, thus justifying their concerns. Obviously, my life is less interesting than that of a 16 year-old in Idaho, though 821 hits/month isn't that shameful either.

While undergoing training for the fancy new robotic/automatic/does-just-about-everything microscope our facility just acquired, I was given a laptop for the day by the manufacturer to perform some simulations on their software. Being my usual curious (bored) self, I opened the internet explorer and proceeded to scan through the history. www.punkinchunkin.com Hmmm. Could be one of many things, but never did I imagine I had uncovered the alter-life of the systems engineer. Yes, this is the guy who designed the microscope we just purchased for the equivalent of 4.3 years' salary (mine, not his).

Apparently, while bored postdocs blog on weekends about their uneventful lives, these guys travel to far away places and build monstrously phallic machines designed to hurl, of all things, pumpkins over distances of 1/2 mile or more. Current record is held by the aptly named Second Amendment (4331 feet). Not surprisingly, no license is required to fire the equivalent of a vegetable cruise missile. Scanning through the site more extensively, I find that pumpkins are not hurled, but in fact projected by either air cannon, catapult, or human centrifugal force. And because engineers run the site, a clear distinction is made between adult air cannons (which sounds rather disgusting) and youth 11-17 trebuchet (which sounds criminal). Fortunately, very nice people attend such events and the proceeds are used in part to sponsor a dozen or so scholarships in the four-figure range for attending colleges in the Delaware area. How meaningful!



You would think that scenes like this would attract CIA attention

Count your eggs, count your chickens

And then count them again, to make sure no one has stolen any, or any of them walked away on their own. Chelsea held their own, United got the job done, the Hamburgers were clinical. Money in the bag, all 200 big ones. Feyernoord, which Babelfish informs me as meaning north of Feyer, was the culprit today. Letting one in within 5 minutes was a faux-pas against bottom-dwellers Rosendaal, but to let two in within the half was atrocious. But credit them some industry as they worked their way back, one by one, like Tottenham earlier in the day. In the end, one by one was not enough as they drew 2-2. The chicken that ran away...




Cheque please. Will this sorry lunchtime performance be on credit or debit?

Box wins again

In the good old days, Steph and I would sit on sofa or in kitchen and mull over the evening that just unfolded before us. Our favourite times were spent mulling over series which would ultimately get cut before a third season. Ed and Cupid come to mind, but there must have been many more. Nowadays, when schedule permits (like tonight when there is no ESL and no experiments, no ping pong club, no tennis, no gym), I retreat again to my own time with the tube. The fare has changed much. While HBO hoards the lion's share of my attention (Rome, Entourage), it's ironic that all their best shows will inherently plot their own end, as MW pointed out some months ago. Then again, the rationale might be that, considered together, a one hit wonder is both a hit and a wonder so once isn't so bad. I must admit that Fox isn't doing so bad either, save for all the high speed car chase extravaganzas and Cheaters.com. Particularly, House appears to be a hit with both myself and everyone else eyeing to enter med school.

"Figuring out the right highlights for Cameron's hair really pisses me off"

----

It's not very often I want something very badly. OK, I want things, love things, but am rarely upset when I don't get them. As Vivian puts it, I have particular knack for offsetting materialistic gratification. I guess it's called moving on, or simply finding the next best thing. Thus when CSKA Moscou lost this afternoon to Dinamo Buckaresti, it was simply time to focus on the Ottawa game. Marco Sturm; who would've guessed. But once in a while, something hits you as being irreplacable, a must-have which you feel your own hands grasping for. And what strange things they are sometimes! Dynastar twincaps, O3, the new Submariner. Today's unreleasable object is a purple polished silk strap tank top, which while I'd never wear even on a bad day. However, having been promised it for 2 weeks now by the devious people at Neiman Marcus, and lived on the hype and promise of it's price tag, I'm more than unhappy that it will not arrive. Especially as it would have made the perfect gift for Vivian. However, the tough move on, and the tough has taken Pheebs' advice and will shake customer service until they balk and give me a discount on my move new target. Yep, the tough move on Ken. The others just get free shipping on orders over $175.


I know there's a secret Santa going on at the office. He/she needs to know that there's a Zegna coat I'd appreciate shown on left ($4,450, free shipping). Look at it this way, I'd do the item more justice than this dweeb.