Reclaiming Manifest!

I'm going to try having a public blog again. I'll be more secretive than ever so a troll will NOT be able to out me. If I start getting haters again, I'll close Manifest for good. Wish me well!

Manifest My Desire

Does Dosa Give You Gas?

[Spelt pizza in NYC -- hands down favorite]

I was going to title this post, I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali, but gas is really on my mind. I'm glad to be back home but NYC was fantastic. Here are the highlights:

• Chilling with the BFF (Dilly) in Curry Hill. And no, she isn't desi.
• Went to ZenDenizen's partay. Engaged in debauchery with her eclectic group of friends. Someone offered me a shot as soon as I walked in. My kind of people. Ms. ZenDenizen is hawt -- skinny with ginormous boobs. Dilly and I stole glances at the breasts.
  
• Brunch with Tamasha at a swanky place. I was tempted to bust out with, "I got five on it, grab your 40, let's get keyed," I have no idea why. Ms. Tamasa fed us well. Dilly and I feasted on frittata with cavalo nero, doesn't that just sound cool?
• Met up with Chai and gang to get our drink on. We wiggled our tush, did the salt shaker, and busted out with the shopping cart until the wee hours of the morning. We closed the house in LES. We then feasted on the cuteness that is Chandi. I don't think I've ever stayed out so late. Dilly and I grabbed grub and got home around 7 am.

I'm exhausted and I have gas. Dilly and I had dosa for dinner last night. I even took Beano. I love South Indian food, the dosa was so good that I'm drooling thinking about it. I couldn't rip loose on the airplane -- hot stifling air and smelly farts are not a good combo. I passed out on the plane ride back to LAX. I hope I didn't pass gas in my sleep (hubby says I do sometimes). At least I didn't do what the old dude did when he got off the plane. He ripped loose as soon as we got off. The farts were loud, like bombs, and I had to hold my breathe because they were stinky. Maybe he ate too much dosa.

You are REJECTED

So the job sounded cool in paper. The job sounded even cooler in my interview. BUT the Director was a fucktwat. I couldn't even imagine working for him, I'd pull out my hair and stab myself in the eye repeatedly. They were offering less money as well, as if. I called on Saturday night and left a message similar to the following, "Thanks so much for taking the time for my interview. Unfortunately, I am not interested in this position unless you can match my salary. Please do not call my supervisor for a reference check. Take care." Satisfying. More to come on my fabtabulous time in NYC. But right now I'm exhausted from all of the partying.

I'm Coming to NYC Baby

[~circa 2005 Pooped from too much partying in NYC. 4 of us kids passed out on Dilly's twin bed.]

Yeah, I jinxed myself. I have an interview for what seems like a very phat job -- phat enough that I'm spending mad money on a last minute flight to NYC. But I'm very excited. I get to see my bestest friend for-evuh and go on blog dates with some very cool bloggers. Let's just focus on the positive and push the entire move to NYC or Bay debate out of my mind:)

I'm off to pack!

The Kindness of Strangers

I lugged my huge suitcase onto the Caltrain. Imagine a ginormous suitcase (I could fit inside of the luggage). I have no other luggage. I've been looking for luggage sales and cheap ass me kept waiting for that perfect deal. Yes I know, I need to buy a carry on rolling suitcase ASAP. I rolled my butt fuck huge luggage to the end of the train, trying to avoid people's appendages, and realized my mistake -- there was absolutely no room for my luggage in between the seats. People tried to get past me but couldn't. I started getting mean looks. I could barely budge my suitcase down the aisle. I felt cornered. I started to panic.

Then a hipster techie desi man showed up. He had sat next to me on the bench waiting for the Caltrain. He said to me gently, "you have to move your luggage to the luggage car." I said meekly, "I didn't know." He picked up my suitcase and motioned that I should follow. I did just that. He just radiated a kind vibe. I wasn't afraid that he would try to make a mad dash with my luggage. Him being desi definitely helped me feel non-sketched. We got to a car where there was a large space for people in wheelchairs. He put my luggage down. I thanked him. He said to me, "I'm worried. We have to find the luggage car b/c the ticket checking guy will make you move your luggage. I've seen him make mothers move their strollers." I nodded my head. He told me he would find the luggage car and took off. He came back quickly and stated that he found the luggage car and it was a few cars down. On the next stop, I quickly got off the train and moved as fast as I could to get to the luggage car before the train took off. SHIT. How many cars down was the luggage car? I hadn't bothered to ask. But get this, the hipster techie desi man was there to help me. He waived to me from the luggage car. He carried the luggage onto the train and hoisted it on the luggage shelf. I smiled and said, "thank you so much." He simply nodded. He got off on the next stop.

I'm floored by his kindness. He didn't hit on me. He wasn't creepy. He didn't expect anything from me. He was just a kind young gentleman. His momma taught him well.

I was in a pissy mood when I landed in Burbank Airport. I missed my husband. I barely saw him this weekend. Anyhow, I was tired, cranky and feeling blue. I got to my apartment and I found the sweetest card and gift from a blogger whom I have never met IRL but feel like I definitely know her. I won't mention who she is by name b/c I don't want to embarrass her. But she had been thrift store shopping, saw a tank, thought I would like it (it says "I love LA") and mailed it to me. No rhyme or reason for the gift. Simple. Authentic. Generous. Real. I love this gift b/c it's in the spirit of true gift giving -- wanting to light up someone else's face with a smile for no reason. And this tank happens to be way cool.

Twice in one day I have encountered authentic kindness, I'm tickled pink and inspired. I will certainly pay this kindness forward. Thank you both for making my day better than I could have imagined by your acts of kindness.

A single act of kindness throws out roots in all directions, and the roots spring up and make new trees. The greatest work that kindness does to others is that it makes them kind themselves.
~AMELIA EARHART

Dinner with the In-Laws

I intervened and stopped a fight between hubby and my MIL. Hubby worked over a 100 hours last week and this week. He is exhausted. My MIL wanted us to come out to the East Bay for dinner. Hubby had no time to have dinner with the 'rents in the East Bay. His mom was pissed and hubby was pissed. Hubby thought his mom had no respect for the fact that he was sleep deprived and had mad work to do. MIL felt unloved that her son couldn't find time to see her. I got on the phone to smooth things over. I told her that hubby was busy and we couldn't drive out to the Easy Bay b/c if we did hubby would get less hours of sleep that night. I told my MIL that I would love to see her and FIL and have dinner with them in Silicon Valley. So the in-laws came over to the hotel to visit ME. We went to Madras Cafe and stuffed our face with South Indian food. No drama. Just good food and chilling with the family. I felt very much loved. My in-laws drove an hour to visit just ME. Three years later and we have come a long way -- one big happy family. Of course I bitch about my in-laws, that's alway fun. But in all seriousness, they do really love me and I do love them.

I'm super wife!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!