It takes all kinds

My thoughts while having breakfast this morning at a hotel coffee shop in Singapore --

That woman next to me is eating with her own plastic cutlery.

She has a spoon, a fork, and one of those "inmate" plastic plates with dividers.

She's eating cereal she brought herself.

And two rambutans.

How random can this be?

This is a five star hotel for crissakes! You don't bring plastic cutlery in!

She must be mayor of Lalaland.

Thoughts of woman sitting next to me --

Is that rice?

It's not even 9am!

Is she actually going to eat rice with bacon... and eggs?

How random can that be?

Is that a spoon? This is a five star hotel for crissakes! You don't eat with a spoon!

They must eat that way in crazylandia.

Jona the shop-aholic

For someone who lives in what has been called the "shopping capital of the world", I do very badly. Truth is I don't shop in Hong Kong. Well, that's technically not true, but since I moved here I've bought exactly one shirt off the rack. One shirt in 18 months. I think you'll agree that the statement "I don't shop in HK" is hardly an exaggeration.

Two weeks ago I left HK with one small carry-on and returned with that same small carry-on along but also with a larger version of it (new luggage -- yahoo!), full to the brim with all sorts of goodies I bought in the States.

I don't know what happens to me in the 16 hour flight from Asia to the outlet malls on the East Coast. I turn into some grotesque version of myself. The shopping equivalent of Bruce Banner turning into The Hulk. ("Don't get me started shopping... You won't like me when I'm shopping")

I actually bought two dresses. Yes. Dresses.

Maybe it's because there are no "mid-level" brands in HK. It's either Louis Vitton or ukay-ukay. Seriously. It's either $500 for a pair of jeans, or you get two for $10. And then there's the size issue... a "large" in HK is the equivalent of an American size 8. Sometimes a size 10. And considering that I am only sometimes a size 10, shopping in HK can get tricky.

But no worries, I have a suitcase full of clothes that fit.... for now.

Why I travel 16 hours non-stop in coach

1. I'm cheap.

2. To see this:

Philip's Favorites

Color: Green.

Number: Three. (Because your favorite number is your age)

Food: Chicken nuggets, rice and sauce (aka soy sauce), grilled cheese sandwich.

TV Show: Mythbusters, Extreme Makeover (Home Edition).

Toy: A matchbox car he has named Persidyl 2008 FIRE.

Cartoon character: Thomas the Train, Curious George, Clifford the Big Red Dog

Movie: Cars.

Doughnut: Strawberry glazed Dunkin' Donut with sprinkles on top.

Ice cream flavor: Vanilla.

Day: Saturday.

Conversations with Philip 2

Note to reader: This exchange is actually two conversations I've combined into one.

Philip: Tita Jona, who won the game the last night?

T. Jona: The Celtics.

Philip: Our team won! Yay! Kevin Garnett is the best! Our team is the best!

T. Jona: What about the Lakers?

Philip: The Lakers are not the best.

Conversations with Philip

Notes to reader: (1) Philip is 3 years old, (2) "Tita" means aunt, and (3) I am not making any of this up.

Philip: Tita Jona, do you know what an amphibian is?

T. Jona: No. What's an amphibian?

Philip: Frogs are amphibians. So are toads.

T. Jona: Cool, what else?

Philip: Boat trucks.

How about this for a commencement address

It's graduation time again, and you know what that means -- our Inboxes are full of commencement speeches from celebrities worth billions who talk about failure. Politicians who talk about integrity. Teachers who spent their whole lives in a classroom telling us to dream.

Well, here's my go at a commencement address --

Like yourself, because no one will like you more (with the possible exception of your mother but she doesn't count). And to like yourself means that you need to do all the cool things you wanted to do when you were a kid.

Stay healthy, because getting sick sucks.

Save money, so you can say "f*ck you" to some a**hole who didn't treat you nicely.

Drive an SUV if you want to. Global warming is coming whether we like it or not, and there is nothing you can do about it.

Love someone so much you get lightheaded because you stop breathing.

And after every meal, say "Thank you."

Ok, speech over. Let's call out the 2,000 plus names now, so we can all start eating at a decent hour.

And he's even cuter in person

SATC in the City

The first thing I did when I got to New York was to watch Sex and the City, the movie. (No, actually, that's not true. First was to run around in Central Park like a child, and the second was to devour a pizza slice that just got pulled out of the oven. Then I jumped on the train to go slumming in Brooklyn. I walked for hours and hours taking pictures and reminicing on the wonderful year I spent in the City, then I saw the movie.)

The movie was classic Michael Patrick King. He was head writer of the show for 5 of the 6 years it was on. The SATC formula works, and King used the same time tested pattern. Glamorous costumes (because the dresses they wear are just that), non real conflict ("Oh, how am I going to pack 90 pairs of Jimmy Choos? By color, style, or heel?") and smart dialogue. The pacing was a little bit off, but that's because viewers are used to 22 minute episodes instead of a 90 minute stretch.

If you're a fan of the show, go see it. You will not be blown away, but you will not be disappointed.

5 years later

Going back to a city you used to live in is like having coffee with an ex. It is familiar, but generally awkward.

Five years after leaving New York I am back. And while I know my way around the city and can give directions like a local, I feel a cosmic sense of awkwardness. Like I'm out of place.

And I don't know why.

Some could say I came back a winner. I have a great job, live in an equally sexy city. I can afford to stay at a fancy hotel when 5 years ago I could only look into its frosted glass windows. (True story: I remember walking around NY on a chilly evening back in '03 and I recall looking through the panes of the Bull and Bear, one of the bars at the Waldorf. The men were in tuxes, the ladies in sparkly evening gowns, and I was outside in the cold.)

Maybe it's because I've built a successful life on the other side of the globe that I feel no ties to a city that I once adored.

Because that's just the kind of cheapskate I am

Text messages from Jona to Suchi:

J: I'm in town! When are you free?
S: 7pm
J: Cool! I'll call you when I get to the hotel.

30 minutes later...

J: Could you call me at 212.xxx.xxx? I'm too cheap to call out of the hotel.

The phone rings.

J: Hello?
S: YOU'RE AT THE WALDORF AND YOU CAN'T AFFORD TO CALL ME?

Warning: provocative post follows

Another suicide bomber blew himself up in Baghdad yesterday. This morning, on the news, another political analyst calling the attack a cowardly deed.

Call me stupid, but how can strapping 20 lbs of dynamite on your chest and then blowing yourself up for a cause you believe in be considered cowardly? It is criminal, it is inhuman, it is cruel, it is contemptible, just downright plain wrong and bad, but I am of the view that self sacrifice is not an act of a coward. It is the act of misguided extremist, but not someone who is lacking in courage.

Cowardly means a lack of courage. Look up the word courage and you find that it is "the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger or pain." I cannot even begin to imagine the kind of difficulty, danger or pain that a person has to go through to decide that blowing yourself up is an option on the table.

One lens to rule them all

So I've taken this photography thing up a notch. I few months ago I bought a moderately priced camera, and an unbelievably priced lens. (Please phallic photo above for preview of unbelieavably expensive lens.)

I don't know anything about cameras or taking pictures. All I know is that this is a terrific lens and it takes great pictures. You get what you pay for.

Pictures will be uploaded on my Flickr when I have the time to sort through them (I wouldn't hold my breath).