If I owned a 599 GTB Fiorano

Redhead that breathes fire. From Testarossa to Fiorano. Ferrari's been coming up with new breed of thoroughbreds from its stables year on year. Just saw one on TV. The 599 Gran Turismo Berlinetta Fiorano or simply the 599 GTB Fiorano. So why am I writing about it? Am I an auto journo? Nope. Have I ever driven one of these? Nope. Have I ever even seen one in flesh? About some years back when I had been to Sydney, Australia, I had seen the F360 Maranello in an auto expo (see the pic). That's when I saw a Ferrari in flesh and blood for the first time. But what about 599 GTB? Umm.. nope. So why waste my time on it? I don't know. Ever since I got my Mattel 1:18 scale model of the legendary Lamborghini Countach (I've never seen a car like that since), I started following cars. Mind you, those were the days when there were no good and affordable car mags in India. With my meagre pocket money, I could not even afford those cool posters in Archie's. For a long time, my schoolmates used to think that Ferrari and Lamborghini were names invented by my imagination. No kidding.

I like cars. Period. People have given me names which were not so flattering behind my back for being a car nut. But then that's part of growing up. Their growing up, I mean. Anyways, for a car nut I'm a pretty lousy driver. My driving skills swerve from ultra careful to a downright angry road-rager which causes me to do silly things. I'm trying to downplay the road rage part these days. I did talk about how to avoid road rage previously in one of my posts about coming back home. One day, if I end up owning a car that is now just a poster in my room, for real, then I'll have to be careful not to ding it. So bye-bye road rage.

Back to where I was. Truth be told, I might never ever drive a super car and might not even know how its insides look like, but from what little I've seen of the Fiorano, it is a work of art and then some. Every handbuilt piece really stands out in flamboyance that is typical of anything Italian. And it has a mighty heart (and brains), which is a 6 liter (5999 cc) engine. Huge. Massive. For a berlinetta, I mean a two-seater. Nice. Well, that's exactly why its a supercar and is so mighty exclusive. The more I read about it, the more I like it. Can't imagine what'd happen if I saw it for real. Probably, I'll go on a bank-robbing spree till I get enough hard cash to book one or get booked by the Policia in the process. I will certainly think up of something. Probably, I would form a team of suave heistmeisters a la Danny Ocean (of the Ocean's Eleven fame) and rob some Casinos. Probably.

But what would I do if I actually had enough to buy one and actually bought one? Tough question (I'm finding my own questions difficult to answer today. Strange but not unusual. I normally didn't have answers to the Math quizzes I used to take in school and college.). Would I drive one right out of the Fiorano test track? I would. But only after my hands stopped shaking. That would take one whole hour to happen. And in the meantime, if didn't drop the keys in my excitement (hope it comes with a wallet key option), I certainly would. Butterfingers! And then once I finally drove it home to its humongous garage (here, I'm stretching my imagination. A guy who can buy a car like that should have a humongous garage.) in a chateau in France, I'd pull a chair and sit beside it and watch the beauty for a long long time. Einstein explained his Theory of relativity like this: spend hours of time chatting with a beautiful girl and it'd be like time flew and you'd be left wondering where all that time went. However, spend time with something you are least interested in and even seconds would seem like hours. In my case, those hours in the garage would be the Einstein's example of the one with the beautiful girl. I'd fly the best gas/petrol from wherever they make the best gas/petrol and use it. I'd buy the best coolant and engine oil in the world for those 12 cylinders. I've heard that there's this guy who charges 5000 pound sterling (per wash) for washing cars and he does only supercars for rich clientele. I'd hire him to clean mine. What else? Oh yes! once a month when the weather's right and the roads were driveable (which is between 1 am and 4 am here) I'd wake up in the middle of the night and take it out for a spin. Or once every summer I would fly it out to Nurburgring and drive round the track a dozen times, each and every day of that summer. Or I'd ship it in my 90-foot custom yacht (another small stretch of my imagination) to Monaco and go for a drive in the Alps around the Principality's Casino Royale. Well, that's what life in the fast lane's all about. And once every year when Scuderia Ferrari came up with a new model, I'd reserve one for my stables. Champagne wishes and caviar dreams. Sigh! But one thing's for sure, if I owned a car like that, I wouldn't be writing this post. I simply wouldn't have the time to sit on my futon and type away my imagination. Enough.

Ever since the Renaissance happened, Italians have become highly expressive about their art and engineering (and of course, football). Good for them. And good for us. All those supercars they make let you dream about your career. With just a simple dream to own one, you end up working that much harder (I don't know if its working in my case). Otherwise, questions like "What makes me get up and go to work everyday?" plague me every now and then. And every now and then I get this vision and the answer flashes, "Son, for the very reason that some day you've gotta own one of those beauties. Or maybe several of them." Some day. That's gonna be One mighty fine day.

Using wrong proverbs at the right time

Lots of times as a part of my job, I need to make decisions right on the spot. Think on my feet. Though these are not the kind of decisions that'd change the world or have an earthshattering impact, they're quick decisions nevertheless. And I need to back them up after they're made. Otherwise they'd be just barefaced lies. So in such cases should I think about the proverb, "Think twice before you leap"? I don't know. I did try it once but then people felt that I was dragging my feet.

Another proverb which I constantly find myself at loggerheads is "Fools rush in where wise men fear to tread." Come on! Isn't there something that goes like "Nothing ventured, nothing dared, nothing gained"? So should I go where no man has gone before or be a wise man and keep my feet on dry terra firma? Well, then, the world be a lot less exciting.

So what about "Slow and steady wins the race"? One thing I can always claim for sure in my short life is that I'm steady. And supremely slow. But these are the exact things which made sure that I never won any races. Right from the time when I used to participate in school athletics. I used to get disqualified in the selections itself. Our Physical Training instructor once told me, "son, if you have a choice between running for your life or surrendering, don't even think twice. Just surrender. Will save everyone a lot of time. Which would be approximately 5 seconds. You won't cover a yard before you'll be outpaced." So should I still believe in this proverb?

"Speech is silver, silence is golden." Of course. But not when I'm standing on a podium and a hundred pair of eyes are focussed on me expecting me to speak. Lots of times, I had never been able to score in interviews (in the earlier part of my career days) because I used to lose my voice, and my mind. So I used to end up being mum or just speak gibberish. Neither helped. That's when I decided to opt for the silver club. Its been paying me rich dividends unlike silence. I'm yet to see gold in it.

So where does that leave me? Confused and totally out of focus. I need to re-visit Aesop's fables and see where I stand. Or probably Aesop's fables might have to be re-edited so that dumb crumbs like me don't fall for them. Anybody tried it?

Of course one proverb/saying I'd always swear by is "A picture is worth a thousand words." A thousand unspoken, unthought words. And yes, another one, "Well begun is half done." Heh heh. Since this article was not well begun, its pretty much... done. So till next time..

Rains everywhere...

What a season! Rains flooding this part of the world and people once again complaining that the administration is being ignorant/clueless about it. Not so long ago the very region that was supposed to have the scantiest rainfall next only to the Thar region is now inundated with water and its predicted to rain till December. Another strange phenomena. Usually rains dwindle down by September end or October beginning. Global Warming, I suppose. People are clueless. Isn’t administration also comprising of the same people? No wonder they’re clueless too if I may use the induction logic.

And the Electricity Department which always complains that it can only give so much power because the hydroelectric plants are shut down (due to lack of water levels in the reservoirs) cut the power the moment there’s a hint of rain. Reason? Falling wires might be a hazard. Agreed. Last known, the hydroelectric plants are still shut down due to maintenance. They had not foreseen such rainfall and so had left the turbines and other machinery to rust. Now since its raining heavens, they have started to work on these power generators and plan to generate some extra electricity. Hope they start before the rain stops.

Well, while all this is going on and we get bombarded by images of widescale flooding on TV, things seem to take a down turn for me. Rains excite me and also depress me. The starting of the rainy season is always exciting. I missed it this time. But I haven’t missed rain much after I returned. It just continues to drizzle at least for half hour everyday. Depressing. The roads are bad enough to drive. Depressing. You would require an off-roader to drive through them because there are no roads. Depressing. There is a spread of diseases everywhere and I can’t eat on the roadside stalls anymore. Yea, yea, depressing. What a pity! Wish we could do something about it. I can’t control rainfall but at least I could ask the people who tax me build better roads. Why can’t roads be built that can last for some years? Why do they have to be dug up every few days? Don’t think I’m asking these questions like a moron who doesn’t know anything about roads or road construction. I’m a Civil Engineer by qualification and I had specialized in Transportation Engineering. And I have seen other countries where the climate is harsher but the roads are just lovely to drive on no matter what the season is. As a concerned citizen can I do something more than question the government or cuss the government for not doing anything? That’d be mocking my own inability and cussing myself. The government’s been elected by democracy and I was a part of this democratic system. So I guess I should stay put at home and keep checking my mail and add to my blog or keep reading back issues of Top Gear which I had missed while I was away. At least the cars look nice in pics. Which reminds me. I should get my car serviced. Poor thing, it has had a tough time with all my driving in the potholed roads. I’m sure its gonna cry one day and plead for mercy.

Ah! Rains! You’ve overstayed your welcome. You’d been late this year like any true Indian. But make sure you’re on time next year. Ciao.

Highway to the Danger Zone

Have you heard the song Danger Zone by Kenny Loggins? It goes something like this:

Revvin' up your engine Listen to her howlin' roar
Metal under tension Beggin' you to touch and go
Highway to the Danger Zone
Ride into the Danger Zone
Headin' into twilight Spreadin' out her wings tonight
She got you jumpin' off the track
And shovin' into overdrive Highway to the Danger Zone
I'll take you Right into the Danger Zone

Its nice to be back in your hometown. For better or for worse. Since the last time I was here, the traffic’s just got a little bit more stressful. The rainy season’s here which means that the roads will be more tough to ply through. That adds to the stress. Probably, it’s the same for everyone. So how do you vent out your stress on the road?

Let me think of some things I keep trying out:

* Don’t give way to others and revel in the small victory you’ve just achieved. Now the other guy will be stressed out, shouting out his lungs at you. See? Its simple. And terribly contagious. I try not to do this but I end up doing it one out of five times.

* Keep chatting with someone beside you. So that the conversation will absorb the stress off you. If you have a pretty face sitting right next to you, wow! that’ll be an added bonus. But of course, there is every chance of getting distracted. Traffic hazard. So try at your own risk.

* Never glare at someone if he makes you shift to a lower gear or makes your car come to a grinding halt. Just grin and bear and listen to a music that you’re gonna karaoke with.. It works wonders.. Wear shades to cover those ugly glares.

* Use cuss words if you’re alone.. But make sure you’ve your windows rolled up. People have been killed for lesser crimes.

* Pedestrians can cross the road anywhere. So just make sure that you’ve your eyes peeled for them.

* Try to avoid on mobile yakking. It helps. One hand on the steering, the other on gearstick and the mobile cradled on your shoulder and chin.. Trouble. Nay. Recipe for disaster.

* Don’t stare at the back of a girl riding a two-wheeler. Nope.. no siree.. might be a sight for sore eyes but could cause enough grief later.

* Teenagers have the right to act as Vin Diesel in “The fast and the furious”. So you better be Paul Walker and use your nitro sparingly. No point in getting jailed when you’re an undercover cop. Vin Diesel was cool but Paul Walker was cooler.. and he got the chick too.

* If someone scrapes your car, that’s your fault because you entered the traffic at your own risk. The cops are not gonna help. They’re just overworked and underpaid and see these things everyday. So, better get your insurance out rather than foulmouth the guy.

* Drive a small car. Size matters. The smaller the better. See how cute the iPod shuffle and Nano are no matter how nice the regular iPod looks. You like your mobile to be lightweight, your iPod to be light so why need a big and heavy car?
Well that’s how it is.. and of course, avoid getting onto the streets if you can. It’s a dangerous world out there.

So, its nice to be back home. Provided you don’t venture into those danger zones. If you've got something to add, you're welcome to do so.

Highway to the Danger Zone
Ride into the Danger Zone, Danger Zone, Danger Zone..

Till next time..

Back home…

After being away for 3 months, I’m back home. Whew! What a journey it was. And no stewardesses sharing their troubles with me in Changi. Well, who cares! Its nice to be back. Home sweet home. But it was a tough thing to overcome the jet lag. For some strange reason, I sleep early and get up early now. My biological clock has to be reset just like my Omega Constellation (hmm.. who am I kidding?.. its actually a Timex bought on a Thanksgiving Day sale). And I didn’t have any lost baggage issue like some other passengers did. That’s pure luck. The Airlines was nice enough to help them out. So all in all my flight was uneventful. But it was raining when I stepped out of the airport. Puddles of rainwater everywhere. Welcome back.

But its been fun since I returned. I had picked up the cool Nintendo Wii on my way to the airport and man! was it worth every cent I spent! The games are so cool.. This is the first gaming console I had and I just love it. And the great thing is that you get some exercise while playing it. At least it seems so. My hand still hurts after that brutal tennis game I played. Need to pick up some gentler game like Wii Golf.

Sum total: Wii’s a winner. So one thing off my wish list.

And miles to fly...

I wish it were just another normal Sunday I woke upto. The moment my dream broke and I opened my eyes, I saw myself sitting in this cramped seat with a constant hum that bordered on a drone around me. There was a dim light coming from somewhere and it was hurting my eyes. Was I in one of those famous interrogation chambers behind the Iron Curtain that I used to read about in those cold war thrillers a long time back? I certainly am not a super secret spy, no sir, not even in my dreams. And I don’t look like one so that the secret police will book me and haul me into such a terrifying place. And my imagination is not that great. I blinked and it took me a moment to realize that I was in an aircraft that was doing the night-time crossing of the Pacific. No wonder, I had such thoughts crossing my simple mind. Anyone who’s traveled economy class in an international trip will know how difficult it is to sleep in the aircraft and how extra difficult it is to keep oneself charged-on to catch the connecting flight. Probably, its always the destination that keeps you ticking till the time you finally arrive. Especially, when you’re heading home after a long time. The odd hours of boarding, departures, in-flight meals, the long waits for the connections, the extra rigid security checks, etc., become a killjoy for such travels. And I’m enduring one of them now. And that too right after my packing fiasco which I had mentioned earlier on. The airline I’ve been condemned to travel is Singapore Air. Mind you, it’s a good airline to travel with. But no matter how good an airline is, the only way to travel is either First-Class or Business Class for such long journeys. Any other class lower than those is sheer punishment. Reminds me of that Seinfeld episode where Elaine gets to travel in economy while Jerry gets an upgrade and gets to travel in the Business Class where he he has a seat right next to this blonde leggy model. I was in Elaine’s position, not Jerry’s. Not even remotely.

So, here I am stuck at Changi Int’l airport (that world famous airport of Singapore) for the next 7 hours after traveling 16 hours non-stop sitting in a middle seat of the economy class (see above, in case you missed). One positive thing though was that the seat was next to the emergency exit. So I could stretch my legs without bumping my knees into the back of the passenger seat in front of me. Oh! And yes, another positive thing that I almost forgot to mention. The cabin crew jumpseats were bang opposite my aisle. Just before landing or taking off, a couple of young and pretty stewardesses in those pretty sarong kinda attires used to come and buckle themselves up in these seats and would try to look everywhere but at me. My pleasure. I could stare at them unabashedly without being noticed and I did so. For all practical purposes I was invisible to them. I could have made faces at them and they wouldn’t have even blinked. Hollow Man. C’est la vie. You need to make out the best out of any situation. They sure were a sight for my tired, sleepy and very sore pair of eyes. And I certainly was not for them, from their point of view. Note to self. Ask out an airline stewardess for a date sometime. You will get access to some pretty (no pun intended) company. I never can fathom how they can remain fresh as a daisy even after such long flights and that too after tirelessly helping a never-happy, unendingly dissatisfied bunch of passengers. My sincere compliments to them. Probably it’s the make-up. Anyways, while I was not having the pleasure of their company (3 minutes before take-off and 3 minutes before landing, overall a measly 12 minutes in a 16 hour flight), I tried to sleep most of the stretch so that I can avoid the jet lag. Trust me, it’s a difficult thing to do when there’s a 6-month old infant in the next aisle, who for every 10-second interval realizes that this is not her home and the only way she expresses her displeasure is by crying out hoarse. As I said, the next connection is after 7 hours. This will be a 5-hour long flight before I finally can say that I reached home. I just hope I get the same kinda seat. Minus the infant.

Meanwhile, what do I get to do during this time? I will be roaming around the duty free shops in the intransit lounge like Tom Hanks did in The Terminal. Beautiful movie, wasn't it? Made more beautiful for me by the very charming Ms. Catherine Zeta-Jones as a stewardess having a rough patch in her life. Hope a stewardess like that finds my company interesting in these 7 hours. Yea, right! Wishful thinking. Thankfully, Changi’s a good airport to walk around. I’d say its like walking in a decent shopping mall provided you are just window shopping. Also thanks to the free Internet lounge I get to spend some time writing, editing, revising and then re-writing, re-editing, re-revising and then finally publishing this new entry in my blog. This will take care of the next 15 mins. After that, what? Look out for some pretty faces, I suppose, as I walk around the terminal. Changi, here I come.

How do you drink a $75.00 per lb. Tea?

Carefully. Very carefully. If I had my hands on it then I’d dry the tea leaves after use to re-use them. But then that’s me. I am a type of guy who tries to preserve his dead presidents like the way the ancient Egyptians preserved (mummified) their dead pharaohs for eternity.

One of my colleagues orders this exotic tea from China which costs her a fortune per pack. Around $75.00 per pound. And to flaunt the exclusivity, the tea bag displays your name stating, “Lydia’s Tea prepared by so and so.”, that is, if your name is Lydia. What’s so special about this tea? For starters, if you put your hands in the bag and try to pick one of the tea leaves, you won’t get a usual burnt, processed and a very delicate strand of tea leaf. Instead, you’ll get a ball that looks more like a pepper seed than a tea leaf. To top it all the ball smells more like a flower and less like tea. In this case, a jasmine flower. For a guy who thinks who knows his tea, this was mighty strange. My patient colleague explained that this is a handrolled tea leaf ball which covers a seed of jasmine. I've heard of handrolled Cuban cigars but handrolled tea leaves? Whoa! that stretching things a bit too far! Why? So that the tea will have an additional fragrance of jasmine. So when you put a teaspoon of this tea in hot water you will not just smell the tea but also the fragrance of jasmine. Which means that while drinking tea you can also think of a pretty girl. Which means that if you have cold, better keep the tea bag sealed. And the tea if it has to be sipped (and not just smelled), should be drunk with hot water (optimum temperature unknown at the time of writing this article...) without any sugar or milk. Any impurity (such as milk or sugar) spoils the delicate flavor. Any tea which does not have lots of milk and lots of sugar spoils my taste. That’s one more good excuse for me to keep away from it. Anyways, it seems that they can prepare this special bag of tea in almost all the natural flavors available and while shipping, put your name (like the engraving on iPods, I suppose) on the tea bag. Amazing. So how would I drink this tea? I suppose I wouldn’t. I’d stay away from it. Or I'd steal the tea bag from a discerning tea drinker and demand a king's ransom in exchange. I value my dead presidents.

P.S. Tea connoisseurs, yes, you can order this tea on the internet.

A fitting finale..

What an end to a long weekend it was..!! I was looking forward to a nice, quiet and a lazy Monday to relax from all that cleaning. That is when I get this voicemail from my friend on Sunday evening inviting me to come to his alma mater at San Luis Obispo. And to do that, I had to cancel a whole bunch of appointments on Monday. My busy Monday appointment calendar ran thus:

Mon, Sep 3, 2007
11:59 am: Good morning! Start of a brand new day
Noon – 2:00 pm: Hunt for breakfast (or lunch..)
2:00 – 7:00 pm: Siesta Time (do not disturb hours)
7:00 – 9:00 pm: Dinner, TV, more TV
9:05 - … : zzzzzz

After much contemplation and mulling over, I asked my assistant (yea right!) to cancel my appointments for the 3rd. I woke up at an unearthly hour of 7:00 am (gee! Even the sun looks sleepy at that hour) the next day to travel 200 miles down south to some place called San Luis .. umm.. something. I got the “Obispo” part much later. Never knew that a city could have a first name, a middle name and a last name just like humans do. Talk about cities having a character of their own.

Well, the trip wasn’t disappointing as such. I got to taste the Mansaf (its a special dish of Jordan often prepared as a sign of honor for guests (me, me…!!). Made from lamb served atop a bed of rice and yogurt sauce, the dish is served family style.) at my friend’s aunt’s. And the baklava too. Interesting cuisines. Left a nice taste in the mouth.

So that took care of the food. So what else made it interesting? The weather. The sun, the sea and the beaches!! For a city with a quirky name, the place is surrounded by some nice seaside spots. If the water was as green (as in emerald/turquiose) as the Mediterranean, I wouldn’t be surprised if people felt that they were on the Riviera. As we drove, the coastline was ridden with cliffs and rocks with narrow coves for beaches.. Amazing!! The place can be easily listed as one of the most beautiful spots on this planet. There’s this beach called the Avila (nice name!) Beach which is popular with the College community of the area. So it was a hotspot for hot girls in two piece swimsuits, hot guys in speedos and some not so hot guys (I could only spot one, me.) in a pair of jeans and a tee.

The best part was walking up a cliff which has a sheer face dropping 400 ft into the sea. Let me make one thing clear here, I am scared of heights. Heights do a number in my tummy which makes it vibrate like a tuning fork till I end throwing up. It was a hair-raising moment to walk up the rock and peer straight down into the sea below (no wonder, I’m still having a bad hair day today). As I write this, my tummy’s on vibrate mode already. Some guts. Did I mention that I was scared of heights (and lizards, and roaches, etc)?

Then there was this other place by name Morro Bay. A fisherman’s village with a natural harbor. Quite nice too. Reminded me of a fishing village I had seen in Mass(ah-choo-setts. I always catch a bad cold there). In fact, it reminded me of the place in Scotland that Alistair MacLean wrote about in When Eight Bells Toll. There’s this mountain of a rock (called Morro Rock or something like that) which juts out and sits right in front of the harbor like a Colossus guarding Rhodes from the sea. When I took the pic on the left, the fog had enveloped the rock, making it misty (and mysterious). The setting sun behind the mist was a shadow of its former self. Incredible! And it looked cool too. Nice place to go to if you are a fish-and-chips guy and would like to watch the sunset and the sea-lions while you’re munching on your seafood. Anyways, the setting sun reminded that it was time to head back home for a 200 mile return trip. I just wished I could stay back. A weekend to remember… and a fitting finale. San Luis Obispo.. po be po be po. Sorry, Frank (Sinatra).

Note to self. Changes to calendar:

Mon, Sep 3, 2007
6:59 am: Good morning! Start of a brand new day
9:00 am - noon: Drive to SLO
Noon – 5:00 pm: Beaches, cliffs, beaches
5:30 – 6:30 pm: Dinner
7:00 - 8:00 pm: More beaches
8:30 pm: Drive back home and zzzzz

Tue, Sep 4, 2007
7:00 am - 9:00 pm: Out Sick

Dude, Clean up!

Have you seen that new Radio Shack Back to School (Dude, clean up) commercial? Sweet. One of the many chores I had reserved for this long weekend was to clean up my pad (aaarrrgh!). I’m moving out of here the coming weekend. And the commercial explains my lifestyle and how! Every morning on my way out, I used to make a resolve to myself that I’d clean up in the evening before I switched on the TV. Never happened. So here I am discovering that there’s more stuff to throw than a normal U-Haul truck could carry. And I’ve got more stuff to pack than I can fit in my big suitcase. That’s Plan A. Fit all that stuff into one suitcase. If that doesn’t work, I will resort to the oldest way to pack, that’s Plan B, just throw in the stuff into the suitcase and sit on it while I try to zip it up. Hope that works. If that does not help either, then I guess its Plan C - last option. I will have to shop for a new suitcase. Desperate situations call for desperate measures.

So, while I was doing all this cleaning, I came across these areas of carpet where I had never set my foot on. Clean as a whistle and soft as the day it was laid. It felt so nice for the feet to sink in into these virgin areas where no man had ever stepped before. Now I know how Louis (or was that Neil?) Armstrong felt when he set foot on the Moon. One small step and a giant leap in podiatric comfort. The next area in the list to clean up is the bathroom.... Tricky area. I am not sure how in the world I’m going to do that without rubber gloves and pine sol. Thankfully, the kitchen’s clean ‘cuz I could never cook anything that’s not microwaveable. Some comfort.

Lesson? I’ve made a resolve to myself that in the new place, I am not gonna leave those Subway foot-long wrappers on the floor, CDs on the coffee table, CalTrain tickets on the dresser or any such thing. Period. Note to self, "Dude! Clean UP!"

Start of the long weekend

Another long weekend and absolutely no plans! And that's how I'd love to plan it. It felt good to wake up around elevenish and glance out of the window only to see people walking their dogs. Of course, perfect weather to do so. What can I say about them? Sleep for some is a luxury they cannot afford :-) But not for me. Especially after a busy week at work (yea, I think someone put a spell on my free time after what I had mentioned in my last blog. It was a g-r-i-n-d on Thursday and Friday). And, on Thursday, after a hard day's work, it was great to watch James Blake and Fabrice Santoro battle it out in the US Open. A thriller of a five-setter with the match swinging either ways every set. I hope the rest of the matches are like that this year. I'm looking forward to spend the rest of the weekend watching the tournament. One downside though, the TV channel has put Burn Notice off the air for 2 weeks till the US Open gets over :-( I really wish they hadn't done that. The adventures of Michael Westin are just starting to get interesting. Came as a rude shock when the TV channel put the ad and said that the series had been put off for the tourney. I don't know how many of you will agree with me but its a well conceived plotline with a great narration. Well, you get to win some and lose some. The Monk has been going downhill this season.

Anyways, while these past few months have been relatively cool for me, I've ended up putting some undisclose-able amount of lipids around my already bulging equator (simply put, I've become fatter!! Oh, how I hate saying that). I've made a resolve to burn them out. What better way to do it but by grabbing a can of coke (no diet coke for me) and surfing the internet for weight loss programs? All you have to do is type Weight Loss in Google search bar and you will get an obscene number of programs telling you to do this or to do that. Probably, the only way they succeed to do that is by lightening up your wallet. I think its time that Google trimmed down the search algorithm for a good weight loss program. Coming back to my point, before the coke can was half empty, I came across this great site (hold on and read further, before you point fingers at me and accuse me of advertising for someone) for tracking your diet and daily regimen. Its a government initiative and really seems to be promising. Looks like even the government is worried about me getting overweight. Anyways, before I forget, the site is http://www.mypyramidtracker.gov/ (run by U.S. Dept. of Agriculture). Exploring it gave me quite a few new insights into the kind of food I'm supposed to be taking versus the food I've been taking so far. And what a real exercise is compared to my idea of workout (which is, in case if you are wondering, a 15-minute slow walk everyday after lunch to shake off my guilt of having a bag of "koorly (curly) fries" and a big burger). So if you are not planning for any crash diets like me, and want to shed your pounds/kgs surely but gradually, then you can find some good inputs on this site. I'm gonna start on my WL program after this weekend is over. In the meantime, I will grab that bag of non-fat chips (they taste yuck!) and get back to the TV to watch the US Open. Its 40-0 set and matchpoint for the calories in the match starring calories vs. me. Er... my bad. But I'm gonna make it a tiebreak. At least!!