Goodbye Ironic Hipster Mustache

In a shocking revelation, The Center for Hipster Studies has officially declared that mustaches are no longer a viable option for ironic facial hair. Instead, mustaches shall once again be considered creepy, lecherous and unattractive to girls in their early twenties.

This comes as unfortunate news to the burgeoning hipster community, which has adopted the once forgotten

fashion trend and made it their own. What was once only seen on the upper lip of men in Kool cigarette ads from the late 70’s could be found adorning the face of every young guy wearing a straight-billed baseball hat and talking about how he liked the band Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. before they “went commercial.”

This now leaves the hipster’s follicular throne open to such exciting new contenders as The Neck Beard, The Van Dookie and the increasingly popular Face Mullet.

With Love From Paradise:

In Transit

An Improvised Adventure…

My flight from Edinburgh to London was at around 5am – a time when no human being should be awake without a good reason!  To add insult to injury, we sat on the tarmac for almost an hour due to air traffic delays! Not the best start to the trip. Less than an hour into flying, I discovered the airplane was not equipped with any real entertainment or snacks.  I was seated on the aisle seat next to an elderly woman who slept most of the time we were on the ground – not much for conversation – and on the other side of the aisle sat three lively women about my age. Out of the three, one was actually headed to Nice as well. Gabrielle, a journalist for a local French newspaper, was a delightful source of conversation. She was a fresh-faced, inexperienced, but adventurous traveler. The hour we spent on the ground flew by and I was slightly sorry that the plane did take off in the end. Nonetheless, the unfortunate consequence of the delay was that I ended up missing my flight from London to Nice.

We landed safely, just an hour and a half later than expected, meaning that I missed my connecting flight by 20 minutes – and, you guessed it, no refunds. I had to be in Nice the following day for a meeting, but the next flight wouldn’t get me there until after the meeting (there had been several other flight cancellations). So, my only option was to drive there… Oh joy. From London to Paris, I managed to grab a ticket for the underwater railroad (the “Eurostar” tunnel) that passes under the English Channel. It was a packed but pleasant ride that took about an hour. I didn’t manage to get much done, but I did enjoy the conversation of the lively British bunch on board.

Renting a car was an expense that had to be paid, but luckily I wasn’t alone: Gabrielle, my new friend from the airplane, also had to get down to Nice and was also trying to rent a car to get there. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but we decided to split the cost of the car and drive down to Nice together. With two potential drivers, we could alternate if one of us felt tired. I grabbed the keys to the Polo from the car rental guy, Gabby grabbed some snacks from the confectionery shop next door, and we hit the road. Fueled by friends, friendly locals, protein, and caffeine, Gabby and I drove for 15 hours (including rest-stops) to Nice. Let me tell you – it was a very “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” kind of ride because most of it took place during the night.

The French Riviera during one of our Petrol Pit-Stops

We had some good times, some great times, and some improvised adventures. I’ll sum up the best part of the trip – I like to refer to it as the “fuel maneuver”. With a little over four hours to go before Nice, Gabby and I had spent most of our money on snacks and didn’t really have much left to buy petrol. I offered to pay for gas on a credit card, but Gabby wanted to use the opportunity to flirt with a couple of men at the gas station. I was convinced that her actions wouldn’t lead to any free gas in the tank, so I started to dig through my purse to find my (rather bare) wallet. By the time I actually opened my wallet, Gabby had opened the door and sat down in the passenger seat again – I figured that this meant that she was unsuccessful, until I heard the car start to make a noise. I turned around to see a not unattractive (double negative = hot!) young man filling up the car with petrol. How did she do it? She handed him a piece of paper before telling me to drive away. This girl has talent. The rest of the trip’s highlights included listening to blaring music and singing along to it, rolling down the windows while on the freeway and having our hair blown around, playing road trip games, and even a few prank phone calls here and there. Definitely a day to remember!

So now we’ve come full circle: I arrived here (in Nice) about 30 minutes ago, where I parted ways with Gabby, and checked into an inn at the airport. Gabby is a great road trip partner and I hope to be able to do it again with her, but just for fun this time! The bottom line of this story, I suppose, is that no matter what life can throw at you to mess up your “plans”, don’t make a fuss about it. The more you resist change, the harder it will hit you – because it will hit you. It’s just a matter of when. I’m lucky because I didn’t react to the flight delays and such with anger or frustration, and I had alternative options – but that advice can be applied to other situations, not just concerning travels.

I’ll leave you, friends, as I usually do, with something that a new (and now better) friend of mine said to me when we went our separate ways in Nice: “never forget to bring snacks and just enjoy the ride.”

With love from paradise,

Amita

The next stop on Amita’s Adventure: Nice, France (seriously this time…)!

With Love, From Paradise:

Edinburgh, Scotland

Paradise, my friends, is a myth.  Its not a Caribbean beach, or a trek in Peru, or a journey across the Sahara desert, or scuba diving off the coast of Australia.  Its a state of mind.  A playground of mundane amusements can become a world to discover in proper sunlight

It’s a Sun-in-Your-Face, Wind-in-Your-Hair Life

I arrived three days ago, after spending a few days in sunny London visiting friends, and it was pouring down rain – oh great, I thought, more of that weather drifted over the border along with my plane. But all hope wasn’t lost! Scottish people are really nice – genuinely nice. Ok, maybe I’m generalizing a bit, but my first encounter with anyone Scottish came at the airport – and I think that these people are the indicators of a country’s attitude to foreigners. In my opinion, if you have a good airport experience, then you’re bound to have a good time in the country itself. I appreciated, upon my arrival, the instant acceptance of any cultural differences between me and the local people. Truth be told, I had some trouble understanding the taxi driver’s accent – but he was kind about it.

Now I’ll skip all the boring stuff of me getting to the hotel, getting cleaned up and getting my camera out for sightseeing, because all that was interrupted by a call from an old friend of mine who I haven’t seen in years. Mike, a fellow comedy lover and all-round solid guy, called me because he heard I was in town and offered to give me a private tour of the city. Needless to say, I jumped at the chance!

Oh. My. God.

We went everywhere from the Edinburgh castle, to the Royal Mile, to tiny side streets that led to open fields of emptiness and wholeness all the same. There was even a change in the weather to cloudless skies and bright sunshine, helping the beauty of the city to really strike you in the face (I mean that in the nicest way possible – like a slap in the face from someone you love to tell you to pay attention!) I’m not a terribly active, sporty person – while I do appreciate nature’s beauty – but you know you’re in some form of paradise when you hike to the top of a mountain in the middle of the city just because it’s there. More than that, I felt that it was almost a spiritual experience. I felt free, and close to nature that it brought me a sense of peace. Maybe this was a taste of that paradise-state-of-mind that I spoke of previously. The words that ran through my mind just as I was leaving the mountain was something my grandfather used to say to me, but really hit home in this moment: “never hesitate to take a first chance at something life-changing.” It was so clear to me. Right there. Right now. Stop worrying. What’s the point? You spend so much time and effort into worrying about the outcome of a decision instead of the possible opportunities that could come of saying yes. I vowed that I’d milk this adventure for all I could get… “why not?” would be my new mantra.

With this newfound mental clarity, we revisited the Royal Mile – definitely my favorite place in Edinburgh because it’s always bustling with activity in preparation for the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, evident from the crazy number of advertisements stuck to a pillar in the middle of the street. This festival is a month-long theatre festival where actors come out onto the Royal Mile and promote their performance while in character. It was an incredible experience, and you haven’t lived until you’ve had someone in rags come up to you while crawling on the ground and hand you a flyer – and before you say anything, it is nothing like any encounter with beggars on the street. Since the festival doesn’t start until August, most of the shows at the moment are doing a test-run, so to speak. Best part… cheaper tickets! Mike and I ducked into two shows while we were there: an improv show, which was hilarious, and a drama, which honestly wasn’t anything to write home about – so I won’t. The only thing I will say about it is that, although it wasn’t my cup of tea, the hot blond male lead definitely caught my attention!

At night, the real party started. I realized that I had gone the whole day without seeing a man in a kilt – my personal goal while in Scotland! At 9.30pm, this goal was completed. Let’s rewind… I got back to my bed’n’breakfast at around 9pm, and I was starved! I had eaten bits and pieces here and there, but I hadn’t actually sat down to eat a meal all day. Before going on his way, Mike suggested I try some real Scottish pub food, and after a day like today, I had to give it a try.

The Greyfriars Bobby Bar was amazing. Named after a famous dog who guarded his owner’s grave for years until he passed on, this bar is host to great food, people and music. This place has typical Scottish cuisine in the restaurant section, as well as good ol’ draft beer in solid glass pints – one step into this joint and the friendly atmosphere overwhelms you into calmness and excitement. The meat dishes looked exquisite, but I went straight for the bar, which didn’t have a long line of people waiting for tables, and told the bartender to give me what he thought was the typical Scottish dinner… big mistake. He brought out two pints of beer, a massive plate of french fries, a leg of lamb, and I stopped him before he got to the haggis (I’ve already had that pleasure before!) I looked up at him and gave him one of those “are you kidding me?” looks, when a flock of men, and I mean manly men, strode over to me and started to talk to me. Now, I’m not one to be easily intimidated, but these guys looked like rugby players because they were all about 6’ in any direction you measured them – but these were the men I was waiting for: they were wearing kilts! I inadvertently broke the ice by mentioning that they were the first men I met in Scotland with kilts, which made them laugh so loud I swear the floor shook a little. Quite surprisingly, they kindly asked if they could join me. Usually I’d be weary to accept, but it was perfect timing to test out my new mantra! They sat down with me, we had a couple of beers, they finished off the rest of my food, it was a good night. The best part, however, was once these 6’ Scotsmen got some alcohol in their system and started to teach me some Scottish slang. Let’s see how much of it I remember: “Aye, I’m visiting a but and ben, but I dunnae ken. Yer haver s’gotta mean yer bluttered! Yer auxters are boughin’ an yer hair is a burach, an ye looks like an eedjit, but do what suits ye. Show me to the shunky and give me a tattie, else yer erse is oot the windae.” You can do the translating on all that – I’m not too sure what that all means, but those are the phrases that stuck in my head after that night. Oh what a night.

So with only one full day to really explore this beautiful city, I have yet to explore it’s cracks and crevices and find out what makes its people so happy. A second and third visit are definitely in store for the future! I don’t think I have the words or the ability to describe Edinburgh’s beauty. I can’t do it justice. Breathtaking during the day and at night, the city is filled with so much greenery and life that my eyes were constantly entertained.

I’ll leave you, my friends, with three words that seem to capture the city’s vibrance: “just say yes.” You never really know where life is going to take you, and you’ll never get anywhere if you block off new roads with skepticism or refusal. Take my word for it, you can always go back, but you may not always be able to go forward that same way again. Take the chance, any may yer lums reek lang and weil!

With love from paradise,

Amita

The next stop on Amita’s Adventure: Nice, France!

With Love, From Paradise:

Wolverhampton, England

Paradise, my friends, is a myth.  Its not a Caribbean beach, or a trek in Peru, or a journey across the Sahara desert, or scuba diving off the coast of Australia.  Its a state of mind.  A playground of mundane amusements can become a world to discover in proper sunlight

Black Coffee and Beef Jerky: The Breakfast of Champions

I woke up this morning to a gray and dreary day in a small city called Wolverhampton in the middle of England.  I won’t pretend that this is in any way, shape, or form a beautiful city.  To be perfectly honest, it’s a dump.  A pit stop on the way to a better place.  I arrived on the train earlier yesterday morning, and it seemed like any other English town – although I think this is mostly to do with the thick layer of fog that covered the city: the wind was cold, the streetlights weren’t functional, there was litter along the sidewalk, no one made eye contact with you… the usual.  However, only after I checked into my hotel for the night did the afternoon winds blow away the fog to reveal a city in desperate need of a new coat of paint – really more like 4 new coats of paint, but I’m trying to be optimistic.

A knock on my door prompted me to get out of bed.  I didn’t ask for a wakeup call, but I was told that someone would be meeting me to take me to the airport to catch my plane in the evening – but I had hours to go for that.  I opened the door.

Standing in front of me, dripping wet from the knees down, was a not unhandsome man of average height wearing dark jeans, a black shirt, a gray sweater, and a black cloth coat: “Well ‘ello there young miss, m’name’s Mitch.  I’ve come to take you to the airport.”

When he spoke, I was instantly calm.  I explained to him that my flight wasn’t for another half a day and that he wouldn’t need to take me until then, yet he insisted that he show me around the town before I leave.  Truthfully, I wasn’t at all up for spending more time than I needed here, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.  Some start to my “adventure”, I thought to myself.

By the time we got into the main town, past the burned-down pubs and abandoned buildings, there was little of interest to see… Mitch pointed out some clothes shops, makeup shops, restaurants, pubs and the odd museum here and there.  Quaint atmosphere, but still not very pretty.  We traveled around for about a good 4 hours (surprising, I know, but the time passed quickly) until we retired to a coffee shop near where Mitch had parked his car.  By this time, we’d talked about simple details of each other – where do we work, where are we from, etc – and got into some more intricate arguments over which movie is better than the other, but we hadn’t really gotten to know each other.  There was one question I was dying to ask him, and when he got back to our table with the coffee and snacks, I blurted out: “Why here?”

I think I stunned him a bit because he took a moment to answer, but I didn’t need to explain myself – he knew what I meant.  Throughout the day he could see me make faces about the cleanliness and hygiene of the people and places we visited, and could obviously sense my urge to leave, but he never commented on it.  He responded to me in a cool and collected manner, simply stating that, “This is paradise.  Why would I ever leave?”

No doubt that with me and my strong opinions, I was quick to condemn what he said.  Nonetheless, this sparked a heated discussion of what paradise really is.  Mitch has been around.  He’s traveled a fair bit in his life, and has always come home to the same house, on the same street, in the same town, in the same country in which he was raised.  So I had respect for him; he knew what he was talking about.  Somehow, in the matter of 2 hours before we left for the airport, he managed to convince me that Wolverhampton was paradise.  Even now, as I retell these events to you, my friends, I can’t believe it.  There is hope in this town: a hope for the people to become better citizens, a hope for old, decrepit buildings to be restored to a new glory, a hope that travelers make lasting friendship with the locals and expand each’s horizons.  A world of opportunity in this small town.

And so, I finally get my point: even in this small, dreary town in the middle of nowhere, there is hope.  And that is his paradise! Hope.  The endless possibilities of finding a new adventure or meeting someone who can pave a new road in the journey we call life (cheesy, but true).  If Mitch, a self-professed hypochondriac and pessimist with little inspiration to change the world (let alone move to the neighboring town of Shrewsbury – which I’m told is beautiful in comparison), can say that this place is paradise, then what’s stopping the rest of us from appreciating what we have as if it were paradise.  Who knows, to those less fortunate, it just might be.

So I hope you’ll enjoy this path to paradise as much as I will – I’ll admit that that place wasn’t as un-incredible as I made it out to be.  Join me on this journey and you too might learn what it’s like in someone else’s paradise.

I’ll leave you with some wise words that really stuck in my mind after Mitch said it:

“This place looks like crap in the rain, but like shit in the sun.  It’s a right miss, but it’s my mess, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

With love from paradise,

Amita

The next stop on Amita’s Adventure: Edinburgh, Scotland!

Configuring a well balanced home entertainment setup begins by defining a reasonable baseline for two basic criteria: 

• Usage
• Budget

New emerging usage models include the ability to view on-demand digital broadcasts over the internet as well as a well rounded streaming solution from personal media inventory.

There are 3 basic categories which help fulfill the home entertainment requirements.

Nettop / HTPC: Devices falling in this category come equipped with components resembling low to mid end computers in an extremely small portable form factor.  A good nettop configuration should support full HD 1080p video decoding, and have a fully functional operating system preloaded with media center software. This device should also have multiple i/o ports which supports connection to external devices. Essentially, this configuration mimics a computer connected to a large display.

Media Streamers: Functionally, these devices support storage and playback of media files. Depending on the manufacturer and their capabilities, these can range anywhere from $100 to $300. These are designed from an appliance perspective, hence the scope for modification and customization is fairly limited. They are equipped with applications that help deliver internet content.

Video Game Consoles: Consoles pack a lot of computing power required for gaming graphic computations, so naturally these devices make excellent companions to HDTVs. Devices come pre-equipped with a media center, which allows for media sharing. For ex: if audio/video/image files reside on a PC connected to your local home network, Windows Media Player supports streaming of this media to the console, thereby enabling on demand playback of your digital content on TV. However, there are some limitations to the formats supported. PlayStation3 supports Blu-ray and is a great option for “more-than-casual” gamers.

IN-SHORT: A Cheat Sheet

Y* – By Installing additional software like XBMC, BOXEE, etc

** identifies frequently used apps like Hulu Plus, Pandora, Youtube, Netflix, etc

I will be honest – I could spend the better part of a day at Target, Old Navy and TJ Maxx and I am not ashamed. People who only buy things for “the name” make me sad – you could be doing so much more with your money…like searching for and buying awesome and affordable items from that new fashion blog you’ve started reading. News flash “Buckhead Betty”: I bought the same top at “La Targe” (my oh so posh name for Target) and saved the 200 dollars you wasted – sorry I’m not sorry!

Summer’s Must Haves for 2011

Hey Wrappers! It’s almost time for summer! And with the dawn of this glorious new season comes – white jeans, bright colors, sundresses and seersucker! Don’t’ get me wrong – I do love the neutral, earth tones that accompany the fall and winter months but I would be lying to you all – if I said that this time of year doesn’t make my heart and wardrobe smile!

So – I thought I would give you a brief run down of the top 10 things you MUST HAVE for Summer 2011.

1.  Flared jeans.  The 70′s influence is still in full force.  Pair with the tube top, chunky jewelry and fabulous wedge heel for a sexy, summer look!

2.  The blouse. Tis’ the season to think: big bows, smocking, bell sleeves or neckties in soft, sheer fabrics such as a cotton blend, silk or rayon.

3.  White anything. It’s so fresh and so clean! Whether it is white jeans, shorts, dresses or skirts – you can’t go wrong. It’s classic, chic and a delightful addition to any wardrobe.

4.  Striped Tops. Nothing says summer like a nautical striped tee. Search for vertical stripes – they are slimming and will elongate your torso. Pair with white shorts or jeans and wedge heel to complete the look.

2. Wear a business suit every time you go to the club to convince drunken groupies that you are someone’s agent in order to get the dirt on hookups and drug use.

3. Manage a cover band of your favorite REAL Band. Try and book gigs at their old stomping grounds/similar cities so you can “by chance” run into them and buy them a drink for old times’ sake….perfect time to ask them about their up-and-coming tour.

4. Buy a digital camera and run with the “TMZ Pack of Paparazzi Wolves” and start throwing out questions related to the article you wanted to write.

5. Become part of the “Scene’s Celebrity Protection Team” escorting celebrities to their cars away from the evil clutches of the paparazzi. While escorting Megan Fox, Lindsay Lohan or Kathy Griffin to safety – you would be close enough to ask the burning question, just watch out for your old paparazzi buddies who might shank you for crossing over to the other side and ruining their shot….seriously

6. Get a YouTube account and start your own talk show pretending to interview your friends who resemble certain pop culture entertainment figures. Who knows? Maybe one day their famous look-a-like will stumble across the “mock-umentary” and want to have a one-on-one interview with you to set the story straight.

7. Watch E!, “Access Hollywood,” or other talk shows to imitate your favorite entertainment figures voice perfectly so that you sound like them. Call up their agent to schedule a lunch meeting and before they call the cops to have you arrested for stalking, start shouting your questions at them.

8. Learn the tried and true method of how to swipe a BlackBerry phone out of the pocket of a celebrity’s skinny jeans. Let’s be honest – a celebrity’s BlackBerry holds all their deepest darkest secrets, A-lister’s unlisted numbers and of course, the ever popular nude pic. Easy score.

9. Start blogging about your favorite celebrities and hope that people like you more than Perez Hilton or Dlisted…

And finally…..*DRUMROLL*

10. Get a degree in Broadcast Communication and work harder than everyone else till you reach the top…but eh – the other nine are a lot more fun!