But for now, the most excellent YouTube mashup yet:
Who doesn’t? I mean, really. It seems to be the great equalizer for all people, everywhere. Even Bill Gates wouldn’t turn down a winning lottery ticket (although I imagine he’d probably donate it someplace afterward; it must be nice to have that kind of financial flexibility).
So I watched Slumdog Millionaire this past weekend, and liked it. I won’t go into my opinion of it too terribly far, except to say that I find it interesting to watch a show (albeit in a movie) that I watched for hours with my parents, except this time in a different country, in a different language (I’m getting to that part), and for the most part it’s the same show.
The Chickengoddess (in her infinite poultryness) was doing some searching on YouTube (like you do), and discovered the one very crucial difference between the shows. Allow me to illustrate.
This is who we get for the American Show:
(Regis Philbin, anyone?)
Or perhaps you would prefer
meredith viera
Not bad.
All in all, though, the show is interesting for people watching, because you answer the questions in your living room and feel intellectually superior to the folks in the chair, and while you realize they’re nervous, you think, “Hey – I could totally do that.”
Right? Right. Nervousness aside, you get over it and come up with the answers, because the hosts are not terribly distracting.
Now, here’s the difference. This is the host for the Indian version:
Well, crap. No hope. I mean, this is the equivalent of Brad Pitt or George Clooney or possibly even Johnny Depp hosting the show. How do you overcome that? Really? You don’t. You sit there in the chair and either a. get cocky as an attempt to overcome it, or b. forget your name and your own eye color.
I think this guy looks just about right:
He looks as though he might wet himself. I don’t blame him. Say what? Where am I? Paris? I think. I don’t know. Sure, that’s my final answer. No, London. Acron? Antarctica?
(And although I am cavalier at the moment about the American version, I would probably totally clam up, even with Meredith Viera, because I never did do well on tests in school. That was too much pressure, all that memorizing and then regurgitating, and I made lots of stupid mistakes, except where grammar and reading comprehension were concerned.)
Here’s the full version:
(Thank you, Chickengoddess. You are still my favorite bird deity.)
[Edit] I have just discovered that Amitabh Bachchan also hosted the show. Why would you do this to people? Aaaaaugh. I was always amazed, even with good ol’ Regis, that people didn’t go nuts when they got a call as somebody’s lifeline, except on the celebrity specials, of course. Dang. That’s just cruel. You could win lots of money! You’re going on TV! If you answer wrong, you lose it all! Here’s Amitabh Bachchan! Surprise!
Because when I get really frustrated with something (like last night, when I became dismayed and felt like I might never understand Hindi sentence structure, which I possibly never will, except for explaning the size of a room and its furnishings, and possibly children), I pick up the knitting and it feels like I’m not frustrated any more for a while. I carry a pair of socks-in-progress around with me at all times, because I am frustrated once a day by something, and it’s a great remedy. I think this might be why I never finish the Socks of Eternity. Although 2×2 rib is mind-numbingly dull, it’s also brainlessly easy, and when I can’t do something it’s nice to have something I can do right every time.
Seriously. That’s what scarves are for, right? And hats. I’ve got a list.
So far today I have removed all the keys from my keyboard, cleaned them and the keyboard, and replaced them again. I have given myself several blood blisters in the process, which only serve to make me feel even more accomplished. Like, all techie and stuff. As a reward (and because I again neglected to prepare lunch for myself last night, and then overslept as usual), I made a 3rd-grade lunch, which consisted of a grilled cheese sandwich (Kraft singles, for purposes of authenticity), carrot sticks, and apple slices with peanut butter (Jif, also for purposes of authenticity). The only way this could be a more authentically 3rd-grade meal is if I took one of those mini milk cartons and mixed in a chocolate pudding cup (which I remember as being an awesome combination, but which also becomes grosser and grosser the more I think about it – it was lumpy).
Perhaps I will even finish the Socks of Eternity.
Perhaps in reality I will not. But I might get a couple of rows done.
The madness grows.
So. The back story:
I was cruising the wonderful Interweb (Dear Interweb, did I tell you recently how much I love you? Well, I do. More than my cell phone or my Playstation, but pretty much equally with my DVD player), and I came across these amazing throw pillows:
Best Throw Pillows Ever (scroll on down, and yes, that is indeed Amitabh Bachchan, on a pillow. I know, right? Awesome.)
And although they are plasticky and look pretty awful to sit on/near/with (anyone having spent a summer in the South in shorts in a car with vinyl upholstery knows what I’m talking about), I decided immediately that I must have one at this very moment. Only I can’t buy one.
So instead, as a consolation, and in an attempt to branch out to another craft (because I obviously didn’t do this enough as a child in the 80s, in between laminating gummy bears between clear vinyl to make bows and puff-painting the crap out of my jean jacket), I have a Plan to make a set using iron-on transfers and cheap pillows bought at Ikea. I shall post results. I think they need spangles.
I knit some more on the tiny baby jacket. It was warm enough to sit outside on the porch with some blackcurrant juice (which I drank all ghetto-style, right out of the bottle), and I knit a few rows until the Husband came out and started power-sanding his armor. Well, that, and Crazy Yelling Guy was crazy and yelling, so I went back inside and burned dinner a bit.
I am both glad to wear sandals and not glad that it will be hot and I have to be in a car without air conditioning for another several months. It’s supposed to cool off again tomorrow or so. I think I’ll see if I can get some mileage out of my New Rocks before it’s silly to wear quilted leather boots (but I’ll wear them anyway, in the middle of July, and complain a lot).
I don’t remember if I mentioned this before, but it’s totally true.
Anyway. I know I promised myself that I would not start new projects until the old ones were finished, but I have started a new project despite myself, and so I have yet another project in the works. I did finish the red socks, and the Socks of Eternity (they have many names, but are still unfinished) have had more done with them, and maybe they’ll be done by the end of this year. Heh. I hope so. That’s many months away.
To my credit, the project that I have started is a tiny thing. It is a suit for a baby, and I love knitting things for babies. They are done so quickly! This one is a sweater and pants, and whereas an adult version would take me forever, this one will probably done before the end of the month. It will be a bunny suit.
(And on the buffet in the dining room, I have a collection of tiny little glass bottles with nothing in them, merely because they are tiny. I also plan on being one of those old ladies who builds and furnishes doll houses with tiny little furniture and rugs and things, also because they are tiny. And then doesn’t let her grandchildren play with the dollhouses. Because tiny people + tiny things = not a good idea, unless you’re a Borrower.)
In other news: I am inexplicably fond of Hindi children’s movies. I saw Koi…Mil Gaya, and loved it. Probably because Hrithik is in it, but also because it is silly.
New purpose! And a plan!
I have three things to accomplish by the end of the month. They are knitting related. They are as follows:
1. Finish the socks of infinity. I am nearly there, but my resolve is waning. However, I will not give up.
2. Knit a men’s hat. This was supposed to be a Christmas present. It is now March.
3. Knit a bunny suit for a coworker’s impending offspring. I will be knitting it in two pieces, one which is a hoodie with ears, and one which is a pair of hyperbolic baby pants with a detachable tail. I am not giving away any secrets, since I have told her about these things already.
Baby things are awesome because they are small and quick. And the infant will be very small for a while. We had a discussion this morning, attempting to figure out why it is that women like tiny things, and none of us could give a reason. We could, however, give many examples to prove that we do, indeed, gravitate to tiny things.
I have many tiny, useless glass bottles on my buffet in the dining room. I also collect vinyl figurines. I do not care for the large ones.
Keep me to task, bloglandia! The Christmas knitting is getting to the ridiculously overdue point…
Sooo. Went to a convention this weekend as an entourage (there were two of us, really), and it was excellent. I brought two knitting projects along and did no work on either of them, although I mastered ten new Devanagari characters. I made a fool of myself and blabbed all about being obsessed with India at the Indian lady selling things to bellydancers. I ended up buying a necklace and some bangles. She told me I should do bellydancing. I avoided responding.
These are the bangles (all photos taken by and then stolen from the webpage of the lovely Jennie):
Well, actually, that’s me with them on, looking silly. Then I left them in Jennie’s car.
I bought things from Gus Fink:
Hee. They wobble.
The husband brough his costumes. He makes lovely costumes!
And we played putt-putt. The husband beat us by three points. None of us did particularly well, but there were pirates! And a creepy cave:
And the husband dressed as the Black Knight. I wore his costume afterward. I looked a little like a compressed, curvy Black Knight, only not really. Curse you, womanly form.
Soooo… yeah. While we were in Orlando, it snowed in Atlanta. We stayed around Monday morning and played laser tag while we waited for things to clear up. Other than icy back steps, we seem to have missed it all.
This weekend we plan on going sari shopping. I am going to try very hard not to buy more movies. I have a couple sitting around, and I haven’t seen Billu Barber yet.
All of it this weekend! Hooray!
K. So here goes. It was the husband’s birthday this weekend, and while I often complain that he is unromantic, I am potentially the Least Romantic Person in the History of Ever, so when he said he’d planned out his birthday, I said, “whew!” He had wanted to go to flea markets, but the ones he’d found had all closed up shop, so we went to Dreamland Barbecue early (oh. my. gods. best. barbecue. ever.), then to an awesome Army surplus store (I almost bought both a manual for how to use a bayonet properly, and a manual for speaking common Malaysian phrases, but then looked at them and decided that I should just stick with Hindi, even though it doesn’t teach me how to use a bayonet properly).
Then, on the way to the next thing, we stopped to gawk at the Unknown Castle.
(Shamelessly linked from here; the Flickr photos are unlinkable, and I can’t get my cameraphone photos to transfer to my computer) So. This thing was built by a Roswell couple a quarter of a century ago. It’s the size of a regular bungalow. Not only does it sport gnomes on the fence posts, but it also has a moat that doubles as a swimming pool. Made. of. Awesome.
Here is the link to Roadside Georgia’s writeup. Here is the link to a flickr photo of one of the gnomes.
After that, there was some antiquing, during which I purchased some more old-timey photos (I like the blurry ones, the awkward-looking ones, and the ones that are obviously snapshots from a family vacation, circa 1910). I got a great one of a man with the most spectacular facial hair I’ve seen in a while. The husband did not seem interested in emulating said hirsute gentleman.
And then, for reasons unbeknownst to me, the husband suggested that we hit some Indian shops. So we went to a grocery store, and then to a sari shop. I think the clerk must have been very bored. At any rate, she was very accommodating, and educated me on the particulars of saris vs. lehengas, and how Rajasthani women wear their saris, and what Rajasthani jewelry looks like, and then asked me my name (in Hindi!) and I answered her (in Hindi!) and I felt at once very silly and very smart. And then, to make up for my giddy embarassment, we went next door to the video store and I bought four Bollywood films. And then we went to another sari shop, and I ended up buying a lehenga covered in little mirrors, the largest pair of earrings I’ve ever owned (they were the smallest of the ones I tried on, though), some jingly anklets, and a mess of too-small bangles, which I later gifted to Baobh.
The husband chose a very snazzy suit. I made him put it on when we got home, so I could stare at him. He looks nice in Indian clothes. I look like a white person playing dress-up.
And then we went out and finished off the evening with thalis at Bojhanic, and ate too much, and then went home and went to bed.
I recounted this all to Baobh and husband last night when they arrived, and they seemed overwhelmed.
I also let them know that the Hindi word for snow transliterates to “barf,” which we all found very amusing in a sort of twelve-year-old way.
knitters = angry mob 