people: do your jobs! correctly!!

i am royally peeved with the UPS delivery guy who was supposed to deliver a very important, urgent package to me yesterday. yes, the chances that he's reading this are next to nil, but i still need to rant.

in order to prove to the uk border agency that i have had GBP 800 in my account for the past 3 months (this is the piddly amount they expect you to "maintain" yourself on in the UK -- i'm sorry, but GBP 800 would be enough for rent for a month with about 8 room-mates, dining on food salvaged from dumpsters. but fine). the details of what needs to be in the proof that you have these funds borders on ridiculous: official everything, can't be faxed, needs to come from your financial institution (as opposed to notarized statements or something similar) on official letterhead, blah blah blah.

i get in touch with my NYC bank and arrange all these things. they have to send them to me via courier since the time for my interview is nearing. they sent it 2 day-express via UPS (oh by the way, i'm arranging all of this at 6:30 AM PST since my banker is at work at 9:30 AM and i want to make sure i get this done before her day gets ballistic.)

i wait a couple of days. no package. i get up early again - call the bank and ask for a tracking number. check the tracking number. oh wow. my package was apparently delivered yesterday to my front door. hahahaha. i circumnavigate the house looking for the package, tucked into a nook or cranny (incidentally, once a courier left university transcripts for my roommate (A.W.) underneath our welcome mat. the letter was discovered only when J.H. stepped on the welcome mat and felt it was a little weird. he looked under it. meanwhile, A.W. was going nuts because her grad school apps were due and she needed the transcripts.). no package.

i called UPS here in vancouver. they told me that they'd have to put a trace on the package. but that i can't authorize the trace. it has to be authorized by the shipper. so back to calling the bank, speaking to a very lovely person who was very helpful. she requested the trace. in a few minutes - after talking to UPS - she called back to say that the package had been delivered to the wrong address! about 4 houses down. UPS would go pick it up and re-deliver it. but couldn't say when i'd get it.

eventually, i walked over to the house where the package was mis-delivered. the door was answered by a surly lady (ah, slurry/sorry/sorely/surly) who had at her heels a HUGE dog. she had the door opened just a smidge, but i could hear her crazy, rabid dog trying to lunge at me through the closed door! aaaack. she said they didn't receive anything from UPS and was about to close the door in my face, when i asked if she could just take a quick look upstairs.

she begrudgingly agreed. she came back down (crazy dog kept watch over me standing in front of their closed door) with my package. apparently her elderly father had signed for it.

argh UPS and their illiterate delivery-people. yes, yes, anyone can make a mistake, i know. and i've made many, but for right-now, i'm going to be a meanie.

what a scary thought!

ever since i've been visiting in surrey, my dad and a couple of family friends have been suggesting that i open my own law firm. to which i always roll my eyes and say no way. i like law. i'm not a business person. if i were to open a business, it would be a combination stationary store / book store / music venue / art gallery / coffee shop / publishing house. not a law firm. today, my dad was on my back about it again. he then suggested (and i sincerely hope this was in jest though he wasn't smiling) that i open a firm and he will work at my law firm. as a consultant. to which i said "in what". he said "immigration matters." i said "no immigration work at my fictional firm, at least not for indian people because i am a racist." then he said he'd be my secretary. to which i replied "you can't type! and you have surly telephone voice."

oh dear god, i hope he wasn't being serious.

"star"

is it just me or is the word "star" used too liberally to describe people who have achieved a modicum of renown. for instance, a "reality-tv star" (and i think with very few exceptions, reality-tv personalities are not so star-like) is alleged to have killed his model (ex?)girlfriend (not model girlfriend as in best girlfriend, we should all attain to her level of girlfriend-y-ness, but model as in that's her profession) and then escaped across the porous border waters of canada / us. he's been found dead (apparently a suicide) in a hotel in hope, b.c. he's being described as a "star". his claim to fame is a dubious professional life in calgary, ab followed by a move to california where he "starred" on a show called "megan wants a millionaire" -- the fact that i never, ever heard of this program is telling (and frankly reflects on his lack of star-dom) since i watch a lot of tv.

anyway, that's my rant for the day. guy is not a star. he was a tv personality for a hot minute and is now renowned primarily (at least in these parts) for being allegedly a murderer. the details of his ex-girlfriend condition when found are particularly gruesome and worthy of a law & order SVU episode.

i'm sitting at esquire's coffee in surrey (am trying to find an amusing, mildly derogative word for surrey -- have heard both "sorry" and "slurry" both are good. maybe i'll set up a poll for the name once i have a few other entries) nursing a latte and abusing wifi.

c.h. is in town for a week or so, which is excellent news for my social life. already have plans to leave sorry / slurry tomorrow. woot-woot!

RED FM IDOL

as part of my long exile in surrey, bc, i'm taking in the cultural sights and sounds. sounds mainly tonight. i went with my mom and my aunt to see the RED FM idol finals. RED FM is a south-asian (mainly punjabi tho') radio station in the lower mainland (vancouver and environs) that my parents listen to religiously. the commercials on RED FM are hilarious. you'd have to know punjabi to really get the hilarity of them (unintentional hilarity on occasion) but let's just say there's one about going to the capilano suspension bridge and eating fudge that makes me so happy.

below are some pictures from the competition. the woman in white won, after 2 tie-break extra song performances, narrowly edging out the guy in the red jacket (who, incidentally, contracted an eye cancer when he was 2 years old and has been blind ever since). there were 9 finalists performing tonight (well, actually 8 because one person got sick and couldn't perform) in 3 rounds - from 8 to 5 to 3 and then down to the winner.

anyway, it was well worth the $5 price of admission.

adventures in air-con

i traveled with my parents all over the greater surrey region (including south surrey and parts of langley/white rock) in search of a portable air-conditioner for my parents. traveled from big box store to big box store (all blessedly air-conditioned) only to find out that all air conditioning units & fans (of the non-ceiling fan variety) were sold out. everywhere. well, not true. at "canadian tire" they had a $10 "desk fan" that looked like it could cool one of my elbows. at most.

as a consequence of the trek through vast swathes of suburbia, i did get to check out the super duper crazy huge "wal-mart" in south surrey. it puts "target" on atlantic avenue to shame. the square footage of this "wal-mart" might actually rival that of rhode island. seriously. it's huge. you need homing devices just to find your way back to the entrance. "wal-mart", "home de(s)pot", "canadian tire", and all the other places we either went to check out (just cause we were in the 'hood -- which means we were a 20 minute drive away) or called were all out of stock on air-conditioners. nothing left. (my dad made me walk around the stores because he didn't think the salespeople working the department would really know if all of the units were gone!) "home depot" said they'd get another shipment in the following day, but couldn't say when they'd receive it (their last shipment of air-conditioners arrived at noon and sold out in an hour -- when did air conditioners in the lower mainland become as scarce as U2 tickets during the "achtung baby" tour? -- anyway, they advised us to call them at 6 AM (!!) and to be prepared to be there at 7 AM (!!) for an air conditioner. suffice it to say, we didn't call or show up. lucky, lucky -- the heat appears to be breaking or i'm just recalling the halcyon days of NYC and dealing.

as for "(500) days of summer" -- the movie is great! compelling characters, great narrative. but. the movie theatre lost power at the most critical point of the plot (where all the windows into the motivations and actions of the female lead were to be opened unto a sky of blue). and something was wrong with their generators. power was out not in the city, not on the street ... just the movie theatre. at first, they said it would be right on again, but after about 15 minutes of waiting around, they told us it's a no-go. all the movies for the rest of the night were canceled and we got free movie vouchers (only 1 apiece though). i'm surprisingly less upset about it today, now that i have had time to ruminate on what could possibly have been the end of the film. it's a choose-you-own-adventure in a way. maybe i'll drop all my films at 10-15 minutes before the end?

the last day.point.five has been awesome: hanging out with friends and doing normal friend-type things that people do when they live in the same city and aren't in town for a hot minute and proceeding to see 20 people in a 2- to 3-hour time slot.

i will write more on poland. and on the hague. maybe just highlights.

how about the first highlight being g.g. the super-cute & darlingly french-accented guy on whom i developed a 2.5 week crush, only to have all my hopes of even just friendship dashed by no response to email (i sent only 2 emails: one email, saying i'd email pictures and the other email actually attaching pictures). not even a thank-you. wtf!? comprenez-vous "douchedeluxebag"?

anyway. i got over that pretty fast. because. well, i had to. it's hard to keep a crush going (even for someone as wildly imaginative and deluded as me) in the absence of any further contact. but, as a word to my male-readers out there: do not spill your heart out to someone over a 10-day period, invite that person to visit you in your foreign country, insist that you will look that person up next time you are in their soon-to-be foreign home if you do not plan to have any other contact with said person. ever again. at all. at best, it's a misunderstanding. at worst, it's a damn lie. and i ask again: comprenez-vous "you suck"?

ok, yeah, so clearly i'm over it.

oh, another surrey moment to report: went to get a massage from a massage-therapist here that my mom has been to, who has (what i was lead to believe) a perfectly fine home-business. half-way through the massage, the massage therapist (an indian auntie -- this fact will be come relevant in about one second) asks me if i'm married (see, it's entirely relevant) and i say no. then i get myself into a conversation (i use that word loosely, more like a soliloquy with more and more hostile grunting in response from me) about marriage and partnership and child-bearing. i'm seriously starting to lose it. of course i am trapped under this persons deft (i have to admit, she did give me a pretty good massage) fingers, lying half-naked on her massage table.

my mom is sitting within hearing distance, but i think she might have dozed off. still i can't take the chance of using one of my usual responses, which is either (a) i am barren. i will never marry. who would want my useless womb?; or (b) i was married. to a tree. it didn't work out; or (c) my parents used up all their money on my brother's wedding and now i can't have one; or (d) my livestock dowry died (a variation on (c)). hearing any of those responses could have had a devastating effect on my mother, who (bless her heart) has not one mean bone in her body. (yep, i got them all -- hit the DNA jackpot!!)

ahhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhh. anyway, i said & did nothing. once she realized that i was pissed off, she was trying to be all "live and let live about it", but in that judgey, unconvincing tone that meant that i was surely going to rot in the whatever-religion-she-was version of hell for all eternity for living my life in opposition to the laws of man and god and all things good and virtuous and wonderful.

as an aside: i was actually quite impressed by quickly she deduced that if i were born in october 1975, i'm 33 years old now.

good math skills. shitastic business acumen. even if my back falls off and my shoulders calcify, i will never go back to her.

over & out. for now.