Harta

"Andas sola?"

(estamos bailando)

"Si" le dije. (normalmente miento por que siempre conozco por lo menos 5 personas cuando voy a bailar, ayer no vi nadie y era poco difícil a mentir)

"Tengo coche, te llevo a casa luego si quieres"

Que no! no te conozco de nada, porque voy a sentar en tu coche a las 4 de la mañana!?

Llevo bailando casi cinco años, y aun no he encontrado un grupo/persona con quien consistamente puedo quedar a ir a bailar.

Con respeto de los chicos: algunos quieren llevarte a casa a...sabéis por que...y si no te interesa, ellos no les interesa a ir a bailar contigo. Y los grupos -- si no sales con ellos fuera de pista de baile, se alejan u ofenden, y no te llaman cuando salen.

Los chicas guapas que bailan bien, 99% tienen pareja de baile con quien salgan, o novio -- y normalmente es difícil conocerlas. Yo como no bailo profesionalmente, y tengo mala suerte con chicos con quien salgo -- no estoy en este 99%.

*sigh* y sigo yendo sola.

Ahora hace un frió que te cagas y es muy dificil animarte ir a bailar a la una de la mañana cuando vas sola. Y ahi tienes que contestar este mierda pregunta te chicos ascerosos "andas sola?"

Es una putada.

My first travel-writer interview!

I must be doing something right!

Check it out here!

Home is where you lay your hat

Dealing with the idea of "home" is the latest subject of my Vagablogging post.

My Perm Days...UGHHHH!

You know how you look at old photos and go, OH MY GOD, what was I thinking!? Why did I do that to my hair!?

Well a dear friend decided to post this on Stalkbook today, and of course he tagged me so that everyone can see! (Thanks Jo :)

I had permed hair for almost 2-years. Yuck. Never again.

The photo is from my days in Australia...I used to live with these two and I think we were on our way to Sydney. Wow. That was atleast 6-years ago.

After that, I cut it super short and spiky -- I liked that -- I even dyed it partially blonde. (YUP!) Then, sick of looking like a teenage boy for about 3 years -- I decided to grow my hair back and had to pass that awful in between growing stage; everyone used to call me Mogli (Yes, from Junglebook) OMG.

Yeah...I've had many bad hair periods. Now it stands long, very straight and natural brown. And that's how it's staying for a while.

Life. And Death. And My Brother.

Something awful happened to my brother a few weeks ago.

On a calm autumn night, as he was walking a friend to her car, a teenager fell out of a 4-storey building and died right infront of him.

He and his friend were the only witnesses. They had to call 911, examine the body and narrate what they saw to the police.

He has finally been able to write about it -- you can read the whole story here; it's just like a movie -- the sad thing is that it isn't.

Scary. Unnerving. Unfair. No-one should have to go through that.

How life can be shocking, so out of our own control, and so freaking unpredictable gives me the shivers and nausea.

It is not uncommon that you read stuff like this in the newspapers and you think 'holy crap', but never fathom that it could happen to someone you know.

I feel terrible that my brother had to go through something like this. He is only 17 for goodness sake. But I am so proud of how he handled the situation.

Anish, hats off to you. I love you.

Martian wake-up call

10 months in Madrid, and I've finally invested (a whole 8 Euros) in an alarm clock (who needs those in Spain anyway!?).

I had bought this 1 Euro alarm from a Chino around the corner, which kinda did the job -- even though it kept ringing randomly, and never said the correct time; as long as I reset it before going to bed, it was ok.

Well almost ok. Being late to my 8am classes for the last 2 weeks (it's hard to wake-up in winter!), I was in desperate need of a good one and this is what I bought.

Doesn't it look like it's fallen straight out of space? It's cute and it has radio -- BUT -- it also talks!! YES! IT TALKS! When the alarm goes off, it says the time "son las dos horas y catorce minutos" in an annoying female nasal voice. Why couldn't they put a deep, soft and sexy male voice so I could wake-up in different glory?

Oh well. I guess atleast I'm not going to have problems waking up now.

Facebook group of the day

I Dont care How Comfortable Crocs Are, You Look Like A Dumbass.

This one made me laugh out loud. As of this moment, it has 680,240 members haha.

Thought of the day

"If you want to kiss the sky you better learn how to kneel" -- U2, Mysterious Ways

Superstitious India

Pandit encourages man to marry his dog, to redeem himself of killing two dogs 15-years ago. This is the subject of my latest Gadling post.

Funny how a lot of stories can be found in 'Oddities' sections of online publications. Sad thing is that in India, these things are anything but odd.

(Photo: Boston Globe)

New dancing shoes!

I bought what I first thought was the ugliest pair on the rack.

They are gold and silver with a butterfly pattern, not me at all -- even trying them on was out of the question. Then the shop owner said that it was her best selling model because of the way it fits and that I should try them on, especially because I have super narrow feet.

And I did and I bought them! Euro 109 *gasp* definitely the most expensive shoes I've ever owned.

They hug my foot perfectly and my toes don't stick out the front! To find shoes where my toes don't stick out is almost impossible unless I get them custom made, but I never have the patience for that.

These actually don't look bad when on -- they do not appear not as gaudy-goldy as they look. Besides, they are a dancing shoes -- they're supposed to be jazzy and all! I can't wait to wear them. My other three seem like the dogs have eaten them; they are going into the bin tomorrow.

Nails gone Gothic

Hmmm. I am liking.

Back to blogspot

Yeah, that whole Tumblr experience didn't last too long. It's a great program, and honestly I'd like to continue on it -- but a few things have brought me back here:

-- People cannot interact with me unless they email me. They cannot leave comments, nor can I measure traffic, nor can I link to other people, nor can I transfer all my archives to Tumblr, bla bla bla -- that's enough reasons to come back here I guess. I felt like I was writing to a wall on Tumblr.

Also, I can do everything I do on Tumblr on Blogger, and I feel like it's home on Blogger so yeah, I'm back! :) Maybe I will juggle the two, I dunno -- but Blogger will stay my home.

For those who checked me out on Tumblr, what did you think? (Please, someone tell me they saw me on Tumblr?)

Tumble Mumble

Well, in effort to not let my personal blog die, for the time being I'm switching to a Tumblog! It's easy, effortless, and makes your most invalid post seem valid! :)

So, until further notice, I'm going to be tumbling at www.abhamalpani.tumblr.com so do check me out there!

Why don't they have dustbins!?

I'm currently in Barcelona working for the European Radio Awards. Am staying at the swanky Hotel Arts, in quite a swanky room.

But the one thing that has made me swear more than 50 times in the last two days here is that my room doesn't have a dustbin!

It has a plasma screen with 3 remotes, a CD rack with a selection of music, a weighing scale, enough chocolate to feed a classroom of 4-year-olds, 3 pairs of bathroom and bed slippers, lots of lovely containers with potpourri, more than a few empty bowls on my sink in the bathroom (to spit in?), but no freakin' dustbin!

Don't people who stay in swanky hotels use dustbins? where do they throw their rubbish?

So I've been using my plastic bags to throw stuff. But since these dudes come to clean your room twice a day, I don't have any plastic bags left.

Oh, and 3 times in the last 2 days has some house-keeping person rang my doorbell, not waited for me to open, and walked right in. WHAT?! Anyway...(DEEP BREATH)...am not going to rant about that.

A "why the f*** don't you have dustbins" note is definitely going into their complaint box.

Curry night...

...for those who care to know: it was fine. The food almost got over, so I'm going to take that as a "Abha you can cook" signal, and leave it at that.

I didn't take pictures. For a few reasons:
- I felt it rather vain to take pictures of my own food. There were too many people in my house when I had finished cooking, so it was hard to do it without getting some smartass comments I really didn't want to deal with.
- The food didn't really look nice.

Oh well, next time!