why don’t you get a job?

Every night I feel cheapened and used, exposed and unethical. I feel like a lying, two-timing jerk. There’s something about recruitment season that makes you feel dirty all over.

Recruitment season is like mating season and we’re horny dogs. Everytime we see a bitch whose scent we can remotely tolerate, we hump it like mad. Gotta give it a try right?

I’ve aged a hundred years in the past few months. My hair’s falling out in clumps and whatever’s left is going grey faster than you can say “bank run”. The market is doing dismally and that’s a rotten understatement. Jobs are few, if any, especially in the fields I like. Not the best time to graduate from a top business school with an astronomically high liability in the world’s strongest currency. But hey, at least I don’t have stock options in Bear Stearns (then again, I don’t have any stock options and it’s already passe to make Bstearns jokes).

The rejections aren’t bothering me as much as the pessimism. What is troubling is the fact that companies aren’t sure they even want to and can afford to hire.

Today we had a hedge fund come to campus..they’re recruiting for graveyard shift positions in London to work for Asia. Wow, I can already see my sex life, social life and skin constitution going down the gutter. But I will apply because I have no dignity and no backup plan. Bite me.

I wanna say a lot more but everytime I start off another post it ends up being incomplete for the simple reason that I have just about enough time in my schedule to go to the toilet and eat a coupla meals.

Gotta go send out a few applications, do a few mock interviews and generally a ton of shit between now and bedtime. (Bedtime is 2 am).

Did I mention my macbook died? It’s coming back tomorrow.. couldn’t have picked a better time than the peak of recruiting season to die on me. Shit happens.

I don’t feel like dancing

I really don’t buy into the “everything happens for a reason” crapola. Some things happen randomly, somethings happen because you want them to and you make them happen, somethings happen because life is unfair (like it was to my dear friend) and the remaining few things happen for a reason.

The break is over and school has started- it is very hectic, there are heaps of new people to meet- some are nice, some are douches. Some subjects are interesting, some are a pain and just have to be done, especially International Politics. Ohhh..the ughness of it.. it’s not that the subject is bad, it’s just that i know so shamefully little about it that I am too scared to even ask a question!!

Anyway, moving to more things that bug me, everyone I run into has an awesome question for me that I cannot wait to answer. “So when are you getting married?”

So the first time, missdoc asks this to the two of us. Yes, the two of us together. I was horrified. HORRIFIED! How could she do that?!

The second time, a married couple (the guy’s my classmate, they’re very sweet people, and their kids are mad-cute) asks Brendan in front of me, “So.. how many kids do you want?”
B: “I want an entire cricket team”
(I fainted on the inside)
Me: “Uhh..I don’t really like kids”
Her: ” Well, you know this guy will go down on one knee for you”

That night Brendan and I were forced into an awkward conversation about the M word with no consensus, other than that we both thought it was a rotten formality, a technical detail.

Few days later I run into Tammy who just graduated so I screamed out “Heyyyyyyy”
Her: “Hey you! Are you and Brendan still together?”

(It’s been only 3 weeks since I last saw her)
Me: “Uhh.. yeah, sure”
Her: Great! do I hear wedding bells?
Me: Why the hell is everyone asking me this? It’s been only 4 months!
Her: So what? you’re Indian?!

I don’t wanna get into what I told her after this, I tried my best to dispel her stupid patronising misconception. Now here’s where it gets dirty. She then went and asked the exact same thing to Brendan, right after I told her that we weren’t looking at marriage at all! Either she is intentionally sabotaging me, or she is just fucking stupid.

I ranted to Brendan about how pissed I was on an email, he felt the same way too. Because my phone was charging, I asked him to get onto chat

Me: So when are we getting married?
Him: I don’t know, I should probably go and ask Tammy
Me: HAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHA I love you

And we basically had a really candid and un-freaking-out-ish conversation about marriage. It wasn’t awkward at all. I told him that there was no way in hell I would marry him right now anyway and that he wouldn’t want to marry me either and I listed the reasons why. They were really superficial reasons, like we didn’t own a place or some such. For some odd reason, he threw most of them out of the window. I don’t know what that means and I don’t want to overanalyse it.

I love the casual place we are in right now. Marriage be damned, because we can talk about the things that matter like where we want to live. He walks into my study room and I quip “when the hell are we getting married?” or when he drops me home, “if you don’t buy a car, I won’t marry you!”

As for all the hairbrained nitwits who insist on asking us when we’re getting married, I’ve engineered a response along the lines of ” Next week, and you can’t come unless you bring an elephant to the wedding. We’re Indians you see.”

P.S. He’s gone to Hong Kong today- I forgot his flight date, I’m such a terrible girlfriend! I’m spending my weekend at Phuket. Even terribler, if there is such a thing. Brendan, if you’re reading this, YOU BETTER GET THAT JOB OR I WON’T MARRY YOU!

time after time

Ah well… it just turned 31st december.. I sit here with tears in my eyes, not because i am crying but because I have a nasty cold and have been sitting at home with a thumb up my ass and a handkerchief up my nose while my eyes tear away like it’s the onion harvesting season.

But that doesn’t change the fact that it totally and completely sucks donkeys balls that this year is coming to an end. I mean given 2006 was a veritable compost heap of all the things that could possibly go wrong in a 24-year old girl’s life, 2007 was a warm flourless chocolate cake with a soft melty centre that surprisingly doesn’t even make you fat. (In real life, they do make you fat, please don’t kid yourself).

I cannot remember everything that happened this year but I can tell you the big events- there was the new job in the awesomelyfamousinvestmentbank. The job wasn’t great per se but for some odd reason awesomelyfamousinvestmentbank has a powerful name and what works for branded bags seems to work for branded banks too.

And then the awesomelycoolbusinessschool and the gentleandmodest(sofar)boyfriend happened almost simultaneously (and with good reason ahem). And both aforementioned parties have been hugely challenging yet extremely satisfying; and they have both taught me a lot about myself. I love you both dearly- though between the two of you (more so the school than the boy) I have no time left for my other friends (who I loved before you and still do!)…anyway let’s see where the new year takes us all.

As for new year resolutions… I can’t remember what my resolution was last year. Did I have one? Oh yeah- I did- save money (did that), lose weight (did that unintentionally), get a new job or get into b-school (did both), be nicer (didn’t do that).

I have one this year.

My new year’s resolution is to get a kick-ass job- a super fantastic one that pays me delicious money that I will spend on relaxed holidays, a beautiful apartment, egyptian cotton bedsheets, lovely paintings, chic businesswear, glamorous eveningwear, handbags de la luxe and last but certainly not the least, supremely amazing shoes.

And speaking of supremely amazing shoes, guess what Brendan got me for Christmas? A wondrous orgasmic pair of black patent leather stilettos from Calvin Klein. I love them almost as much as I love him.

And speaking of love, I hope and pray to God that 2008 is year that will help me find and keep all the things, people and places I love.

I started this post cribbing about why I didn’t want 2007 to end, but seeing as it has already and this post has itself stretched into 1st January 2008, I have wake up and smell the delicious vietnamese coffee I am so addicted to and realise that it is time to move onto the new year and make it bigger and better than 20o7 ever was!

A toast, my darlings, to a brand new year filled with passion, ambition, support and luck towards making dreams come true. *clink*

p.s. happy birthday booboo! and as I typed that I just realised that booboo just turned 20, ohmigosh, how these kids grow!

Update: New year- new recipe.. I just approximated without any guidance the yummy butter and sage ravioli recipe from my favourite italian restaurant. Dont tell them, here it is- it tastes just as good as the restaurant version.

heat butter (or in my case, I cant believe its not butter)
add 1 chopped garlic glove, 3-4 sage leaves torn (sage is really pungent, use cautiously)
saute
add some corn starch and saute
add 3/4 glass of water and if you have it, 1/2 a bullion cube (I prefer vegetable flavour)
stir until the cube dissolves
now add one (low fat) cheese single and let it melt (use one with little or no flavor like swiss cheese because the sage is pungent enough)
add salt (sparingly because the butter and the bullion cubes have salt), pepper and oregano
stir in cooked pasta of choice

The sauce is a little liquidy and lemon yellow in color but then again that’s the idea.

Man I sure hope I am rich enough in 2008 to buy all the wonderful cookbooks I have desired for so long ..and of course try all their amazing recipes- Heidi Swanson, Nigella Lawson, Jamie Oliver here I come!

grace

SO!

We meet again. Man, has it been a long time…the only reason I am awake at 2.47 am on a friday night and in a position to write this is because we’re having two weeks off for xmas and the new year- which means that no I am not partying or organising a party or attending a barbecue or preparing some long-ass report or submitting responses to online quizzes. In other words, I am able to take time off to breathe, eat and generally not look like something the cat dragged in (I haven’t had a mani/pedi in 30,000 years so technically, I am not well-groomed).

I have been catching up on sleep and I eat eggs and toast for breakfast. Hurrah for me. You shudda seen me on the last day of exams- bloodshot eyes, dark circles, ratty hair and looking more haggard than a hobo in a thunderstorm. And yes people keep asking me why I have lost so much weight (I don’t think I have, or at least I haven’t noticed) but the answer is of course that I didn’t really have time to eat. C’est bizarre mais that’s the way it is.

In other news, I just got back from a short 3-day trip to Cameron Highlands in Malaysia. In Moschino terms, the holiday was “cheap and chic”; the hotel wasn’t cheap per se, but since you don’t have to fly there, everything looks cheap…relatively. This was my first holiday with the boy. Actually, this was my first holiday with any boy, period. I mean, the lovey dovey romantic I-wanna-stare-at-the-sunrise-with-you kinda holiday not the I-go-with-35-other-people-group-discount kinda holiday. Although I haven’t ever really looked at any fucking sunrise (they all look the same) anyway because I can never understand why the sunrise view is always at least a 3-hour fucking drive from wherever you stay. Why is there no sunrise where you’re staying? Why do you have to wake up at 4 and drive all the way someplace on top of a hill and risk a big fucking cloud of mist to completely thwart the view? I say it’s a huge gimmick- if you wanna see the sunrise look out of your hotel room, right? Anyway, the point is it was meant to be a romantical escapade and what not- first trip together, getting to know each other, blah-dee-blah.

So I am sure you will be able to see how a broken tooth doesn’t quite gel with the general idea here. Oh yesiree, of all the days in the calendar and of all the inopportune moments that my tooth could have chosen to quite literally come undone, it chose to do so on the night before the holiday and there was nothing I could except watch the damned little piece of shit slowly slip…I wonder why… I mean you never hear about breast implants coming loose, do you? You don’t see demure ol’ Pamela walking about one fine day with her siliconey babies at her knees, huh? So why dental implants? It’s unfair I tell ya. On me, of course, not that I wish for people’s implants to hang at their knees. Lord knows I am too nice to wish for stuff like that. Pfft.

But Brendan handled the dental thing quite well. If his mental commentary went something like, “Jaysus effing Christ, my girlfriend looks like an extra from Michael Jackson’s thriller video!! EEEEEEEEEEEEKS”, at least he didn’t show it.

So dental fuck-up notwithstanding, the holiday wasn’t bad at all. Sure, I am not smiling in any of the photos- it’s like the Ice Queen’s honeymoon, for God’s sake- but overall, the place more than made up with its delicious strawberries, organic produce and heck even its yummy steamboats.

And he did accompany me to the hospital this morning. Kindly note that last night, the tooth completely gave up on my sorry jaw, placed in a ziplock and presented to the doc for further review. So, umm, well, my new boyfriend has now seen me sans one front tooth, in all my ugly glory.

If you say “Oh horror of fucking horrors, I would sooner die than be Jups right now”, then Jups sees reason in your thinking. Especially since later that morning she had yet another “minor” procedure that involved prodding, bleeding and some stitches on the gums. I want to say it hurts but heck after 3 gigantic rhino tranquilisers that were jabbed about ten times on several areas of my mouth, I don’t even care.

So this afternoon I ate a little cup of Belgian chocolate (haagen dazs, my dental day staple) and then went grocery shopping, came home and cooked myself some delicious pasta in sage-flavored cheese sauce. And later in the evening, I made myself egg muffins with swiss cheese. And yes, Cinderella’s stepmom would say “Grace and poise, girls, grace and poise” but I think it’s a litte hard to not lose your shit completely when you’re in a gorgeous hotel room with a balcony that overlooks the entire tea county, the weather is pristine, there is a caring boy with you, the first one that’s ever bothered to go on a holiday with you and all you can think about is that your left incisor is going all Shawshank Redemption-y on your upper jaw.

I should let you know that I look normal again now, the smile has been fixed, of course I will have the stitches on till next week but I think they make me look like a tough nut and I kinda like that. Arrrrrr. The boy has hit the brownie point jackpot which will serve him well seeing as he has left town, which means I will spend yet another new years’ sans man.

But it’s getting late and I should sleep. On the bright side, I have until the first week of January to blog my heart out.

this is drops of jupiter, signing out but not for long.

Rehab

This post is incoherent, verbose and a mild indication of the severe lack of r&r in my existence… read on, but only after popping a pill. Any pill.

Things have been absolutely horrifying. I sleep at 2 or 3 and am up awake at 7 and that isn’t in itself such a difficult thing except that it’s hard to pull it off every day. Not to mention that aside from from shorter new hair, I look like crap. If that doesn’t convince you then let me also tell you that this term, I haven’t taken a single weekend break. No siree no. I ain;t got the time…

My exams are next week and I am fully prepared. To fail. Now you say that makes no fucking sense. If I’m not sleeping and not bumming around, I should be studying. To quote an 80s band, A-ha! I’ve had group case assignments and individual reports due everyday- at one point it was 3 per day.

Here’s my theory- I believe the professors sat around a round table drinking martinis and one of them said (in a Dr.Evil accent), “I have a plan- let’s fuck these smug-ass students- give ’em more load than a camel in Arabia. A camel that belongs to a Sheikh whose other camels died of the plague, and now the Sheikh has to move house. Muahahhaha!” And another professor added, “No no that’s not enough, let’s make the course material, the case studies and the exam papers completely unrelated- now THAT will make their heads spin till really bad retro prints!” And a third said “And then we will launch the nuclear missile into the heart of the developed world, UNLESS they pay us 400 billion dollars! Muahahahahaa!”

And the rest of the professors gave dirty looks to the third professor because clearly, he was in the wrong movie.

It’s not that I haven’t had any fun. I said no no no. It’s been fun central if you can manage it- I’m managing it. Of course, I will fail my exams next week as per the POPP.

Price-of-partying principles:
Principle 1: There is a direct negative corelation between your grades and the number of parties you attend.
Principle 2: The magnitude of grade depreciation is a direct function of the time you spend at a party and is multiplied by 3 for every hour after midnight.
Principle 3: The magnitude of grade depreciation is EXPONENTIALLY negatively corelated to nearness of your parties to your exam date.

Last week:-
Whoa Nelly! If I said it’s been one hell of a week, well, it’d be literally true. Because it’s been hell. In fact the last 3 weeks have been treacherously tough for me and probably everyone else at school- but more so for me given the desis picked this week to organise the desi week. And you know me, I was heavily involved. I played an irritating Indian mom in a really hilarious skit (very easy for me given how dramatic my family confrontations have been of late, nay? piece of cake). I choreographed 2 dances which we danced to on Wednesday night. Oh oh and I designed the teeshirt for the week. Got some props for it.. creative design and all.. I’m darned proud. I’ve worn indian outfits all week- which is more than I’ve worn the entire year. I’m a bad Indian- bite me.

But yes, this week has been horrid and the gorgeous circles under my eyes are living proof. I haven’t had time to eat or sleep. Submission after submission. I’m telling you- this mba business is no walk in the park. It’s a crawl in the park. A park of dung and thorns. Yeap, that about summarizes it.

So, yes exams are approaching. I am shrugging in denial. I think I’ll get fucked over. We have three weeks of vacations and i haven’t planned a holiday. So guess what, I’m gonna spend my christmas break here- I’ll be engaging in the thrilling activity of packing my belongings because next year I’ll be winding up… ah big moves big moves..

In other news, one of my girlfriends back in Bombay got married. You know what that means. It’s cue “you need to think about getting married” for my parents and “exit stage left” for me. And those arguments happen too often these- I’m bored. And don’t even THINK about getting Brendan into this. There is a major trust issue between us.
He trusts me as much as a I’d trust a 3-legged lizard with my homework. (I trust him as much as I’d trust a 4 legged lizard- with cooking a 3-course dinner, which is marginally better. Because lizards, if they can’t cook, can be dinner themselves!)

In other other news, let me tell you about the ball..the monsoon ball..which was two weeks ago. It was almost your regular dinner and dance except it was at a hotel by the beach and everyone was dressed to the tee. Oh and I was a supermodel for one night. Or as Claro would put it, “the shortest but cutest model I’ve ever seen”. Ah, flattery. Details? We had two lines- the business wear line and cultural line. I was part of the cultural lineup. Umm…I was a Hawaiian girl. Basically, I wore a beautiful Hawaiian sarong and ginormous floral headgear and matching red shoes (ahem, model’s own, of course). The look was madcute and I say this even though I believe I am as much of a model as Jessica Alba is a nuclear physicist. But as Shonna, the pretty real model who organised the event said, ” you’re doing this in front of people who love you”, so in a sense, it was not all about vanity.

The show kicked ass. The only downside for me was that the makeup was sponsored and it was professional. Now let me tell you something about pro makeup. It’s ugly. It’s like white icing on a chocolate cake- an inch thick and in severe contrast. Now factor flash photography and you’ll know why all my pre-fashion photos in my lovely black dress make me look like a tiny, smiley phantom.

So as you can see, there’s so much going on in my average day that I often wonder whether the days are still 24 hours long. It’s hard work- even if it’s just wrapping a sarong around yourself and walking down a runway.

And as Amy Winehouses would croon,
If they tried to make me go to rehab, I wouldn’t go go go. (The song’s fucking awesome.. try it!)

hey ya

I’m chillin’. On my very pretty orange Rajasthani bedlinens. I was awake till 4 last night studying all sorts of statistical mumbo jumbo and managed to tick off the To do for Thursday. The feeling of fulfilment is pretty sweet. Oh but there is so much more to do. Today is accounting day i.e. a day of grimace and grief. You’d think numbers wouldn’t bug me that much but they do. I’m inventing all sorts of exam-smart strategies for this paper. Did I mention my exams start on Monday? 2 papers per day. I’m pretty sure by wednesday, there will be a Jupiter-shaped pile of froth somewhere near I’m supposed to be sitting.

So anyway, I have a schedule to stick to. But there is much to look forward to after these blasted exams are over. I’m flying to Hanoi for the 3 day term break! I hope it’s fun!! And then there is the ball the next week. Tuxes and gowns and all that cheesy stuff. I have to help Brendan get a tux. Wish me luck for that, hehe.

I’ve been having a spate of bad oh-shit-oh-fucking-fuck days but generally these days have been too bad to even afford me the time to rant about them. Which kinda sucks because I like ranting more than I like gushing. Gushing is for losers.

Anyway, with that, lemme finished this crappy chilled low-fat milk and get started on accounting (and I really mean get started). Brendan’s comin over for lunch and I need to cook too. On the plus side, my house looks orderly and OF sent Casa flowers and that always adds some cheer. Hint. I want flowers.

la belle et le bad boy

Dear Diary,

Perfect first dates are just about as elusive as coelacanth sightings, but I had a really great night with the b-boy. I had no idea how much to expect – I wasn’t expecting it to be a fiasco- I trust his taste but I wasn’t expecting to be completely swept off my feet, or have blood rushing to my cheeks to the point that I’d be too embarassed to make eye contact with him.

And why? Well, if you’re normally used to thinking ten steps ahead of most men and you’re able to pre-empt what they will say or do, you can appreciate what happens when you can’t. In other words, it’s nice, gratifying and mildly embarassing when someone surprises you to the point of getting the better of you.

The food was nice- Asian fusion- rather heavy on the tummy but pleasant nonetheless. We had Chilean white wine with the main course and sweet Italian white with the decadent dessert platter. On a more self-absorbed note, may I also add that I looked very nice in my black skirt, black satin shoes and blue lace corset.

But as MC Solaar says, le context est plus forte que le concept, i,e the context is stronger than.. you guessed it..the concept. It’s not about choosing the expensive, posh restaurant (it’s cliched and anyone with coupla hundred dollars can do that), it’s about choosing the restaurant on the 70th floor because he pissed you off on the 84th. It’s not about bringing a present. It’s about bringing something that he saw you put back on the shelf because you were hesitant to buy it. It’s about picking you up in a limo and asking the driver to take a random circuitous route so that you have time to talk, listen to music and try in vain to figure out just where the hell he is taking you.

I guess what I am trying to say is that night was the brownie points lottery and he won big.

Knocking on wood, desperately hoping he doesn’t poof into an asshole-extraordinaire…
Jups

p.s. I have a telephone interview (the second one) with a European investment bank in less than fifteen minutes- I should be reading up mezzanine debt or some such crap and here I am, blogging about foie gras and silk scarves.
p.p.s. I have a paper due tomorrow and exams in two weeks, after which I am headed to Hanoi for the weekend/break. Life is hectic!
p.p.p.s. I don’t eat foie gras. Niether should you. It’s cruel.

the frog prince

so… you thought i fell off the face of the earth eh? Ha! Oh actually you were spot-on. So this is Jups reporting live from the … well not from the face of the earth, but more like from the bowels of her bedroom which are disgusting by the way.

Where have I been? all over the place, and twice. Including Bangkok! Uh huh yeah… I just went to Bangkok for the weekend with Brendan, Chocolate, Walkie Talkie, Casa, Sugahman and several others.. It was quite fun, I must say. Have always loved Thai food… add some pretty temples, palaces to the mix- Great. Don’t forget to garnish with the poshest nightclubs and bars in the city (seriously Singapore can’t hold a candle to some of these) and voila! You have a well-rounded holiday.

One feels compelled to mention a specific cocktail that one had at Distil…a grand marnier beauty with crushed kiwi…. I wouldn’t normally go for a girly cocktail but this one was quite the drink!

Anyway, I have a quiz tomorrow and an assignment due friday. That’s pretty much what my weeks are like- cases, assignments, quizzes.. lotta work, lotta studying. And a littel alcohol and a dancing seems to help (as always).

Oh and I have a date tomorrow… wish me luck! (For the quiz, I mean)

ride the storm

It is presumable and/or highly likely that I have the world’s most annoying cold. It’s annoying me. Especially since cold = my nose swelling up to twice its normal size = four times the size of the average human nose. Not cool. ESPECIALLY if you’ve scheduled a mandatory photoshoot for a picture that goes on your CV. How charming. I’m gonna look like Shrek in a suit.

Business school abbreviates to BS which is basically the same as bullshit or bloody stressful or anything else equally annoying. I am truly alarmed at the sheer magnitude of work here! BODA is giving me a hard time. But the good news is that I started studying yesterday. Or should I be cautious and say I studied yesterday? I did some *yawn* T-accounts and journal entries. Now excuse me while I throw some ice water on myself.

Side note: Can you say something “abbreviates to” something?

I don’t need to tell you that there are mind-numbingly dull team assignments that require the kind of advanced brainpower typically found in large mice. Organisational behavior- in case you’re wondering. There’s statistics where you approximate data to some other data so that you can in turn approximate that to something else that will give you a very clear picture of what the original data ISN’T. There’s financial markets where they teach you exactly how some smart-ass investment bankers made a heap of money and then in turn went bankrupt because their smart ideas were either stupid or illegal or both. And of course there is economics, which, like statistics, smartly approximates hyperbolae to straight lines and shopping decisions to “either apples- or oranges” simplicity.

Having said that, the professors here are adorable.Sure they mean business and they won’t hesitate to make you look like an utter git if you screw up, but they’re so smart, so entertaining that they make the subjects more interesting in turn. Not that the subjects aren’t interesting to begin with, but it’s just that all this stuff, the job applications, the classes, the presentations, the team assignments etc are really bringing me down. Not to mention this annoying case of Atchoos!

Side note: The OB stuff really is boring as fuck. seriously.
Side side note: Juice is not listed as an official b-school blog and God bless us everyone for that!)
Side side side note: Yes, there are official b-school bloggers who have taken upon their noble shoulders the responsibility of blogging accurately and in great detail, their bschool experiences. In other words, zzzzzzz.

am to pm

Blogging from the bus stop/bus. That’s what it has come to. In other words, I am so busy! So let me start by telling you about my SCHEDULE, also known as the BLUEPRINT OF DEATH-ARRGHHHHHHH. (BODA)

BODA is the bane of my existence. BODA tells me what to do. I obey. Jups proposes, BODA disposes. You get the gist, buddy? BODA leads the way, from 830 in the AM to 1030 in the PM.

It’s not just the classes. Mais bien sur, non. Preparing for the classes is way more intensive than the classes themselves. Presentations and talks happen all the time. And there is still miscellaneous shit to do. I am happy to inform you that I have therefore deleted preparing for classes as well as lunch/dinner from BODA and my existence. In fact, I had half a dinner yesterday after what seemed like ages and my body reacted adversely. Looseness of clothing is becoming conspicuous.

In related yet comforting news, I must inform you that I am not hating business school as vehemently as I was last week. No surprises there. I’m liking some people more than others. Parties play a huge role in this as you may be well aware that similar appetite for alcohol consumption is vital to building core-shaking friendships. Who’s with me? So anyway, last saturday we had the big-ass welcome party and it was at the beach- featuring booze, bikinis and stupid behavior among other things. Friendly English boy picked me up with one hand and hurled me into the pool. Ah, to be childish!

But on a more serious note, I still am quite lost. I am missing most of my textbooks and am lagging behind on my homework, reading and other related geeky shit. There are so many forms to fill, so many events to attend that it gives the cliched “hit the ground running” phrase new meaning. I just hope I don’t crash the ground running.