Pizza drama

Hit TV Guide channel while surfing, and see a movie is being aired about "children of rival pizza restaurants fall in love with each other."

"Gosh I love pizza," so i visit that channel. It had better be a comedy

Girl and guy talking.

Girl: "My pizza is the best."

Guy: "It's because you haven't tasted my pizza."

Girl, with a little love: "I have to go."

Guy, with indigested pizza sauce in his system: "We should meet up later to resolve this whole pizza issue."

Girl: "If our dads know, they will kill us."

Me: "Loads of pizza kills a person anyways."

Back to Fishing Channel.

Taking shots at each other

A friend I met yesterday found humor in her recent break up with boyfriend -- when he put on his act to break up, she laughed, instead of crying "wawa...I wanna go home." Her goofy mood scared the jacks*** out of me yesterday.

Chinese violins played in the cafe's background, expressing pain, and apples fell from my bag. Ex-GF started true blue halloween stories. She said that after a person dies and is buried, his/her brain remains alive, meaning a dead person can control a living person beyond the grave through telepathy. The brain in the grave sends out electric signals that are received by living beings, who then carry out the dead person's orders. I thought I had heard that before.

The violin stopped, and surprise, surprise, Shea Seger making a light rock appearance on the PA with "Shatterwall." It was indeed astonishing to hear her after 2000 (?). Right, it was actually in 2001. Her "Clutch" rocked Roxy before I left Boston, and her name came from a DJ. The song had an amazing cut, breaking up the beat for 2 seconds, keeping me looking at Ms. Dunkin Donuts Financial Manager, and coming back with a bang to end the single. Great base guitar, great percussion, but the CD purchase was a waste of money -- it probably is a great coster for a fortunate coffee mug these days.

I told her about Ms. Dunkin Donuts Financial Manager, and how she got married in Cape Cod, on the beach. I remember her deep blue eyes and clear cut face from that Roxy moment even now.

She continued: "I wanted to marry him, you know."

"What happened?" I asked

"He was a narcissistic crybaby."

I understood the word crybaby, I was accused of being one, but narcissistic took a dictionary lookup after coming home. When a woman is crying, keep them talking; don't ask them what a word means. Interrupting them means disagreement, or so have I learnt.

She kept it going. He dropped beer on her carpet, another woman, and he wasn't a good handyman. If she was expecting a Clint Eastwood, she shouldn't expect one, I told her. But in Houston, apparently there are some, she said.

After having enough of her psychoblabbering, I recommended she try Vipassanna, an Indian meditation technique where a person has to keep quiet for 10 straight days to gain ultimate peace of mind. Right, it might not exactly do that, but I had to get the woman to shut up or she'd send me for Vipassanna.

Lauren Hill's "Ready or not" followed. I desperately want the Fugees to come back and save me from this insane woman on the loose.

"What trick has your boyfriend run to turn you into a halloween machine?" I asked her, trying to break her amorous streak.

"He was imaginary," she responded. And our conversation continued.

That is how the conversation between us has always been. We take quick snaps at each other and argue pointlessly about stuff that even drug dealers would run away from.

I met her on Halloween day when we got lost from our group, and it was so crowded that we shacked up in a bar and ended up arguing for the first time (about the president). She's a hardcore Democrat.

Ironically, she moved to Houston right before the election and her vote didn't count, and I really miss her now. But we haven't stopped our pointless arguments with each other.

This one's for you, J. Hope you enjoy reading it.

Candid cameras and corporate clashes

Standing in a Starbucks line, a man with a messenger bag was disturbing everybody. He was perhaps confused that he was in a coffee shop, not a board room.

"Welcome to the corporate breakfast world," he was energetically shouting.

The attractive woman standing in front drew my attention (let's call her Martha), but she looked at the shouting man, wondering whether this was just an act for a candid camera show or if he really meant it. She wanted to laugh, but couldn't.

After getting candid camera-ed once at an Italian restaurant, I decided to stay away from the corporate freak as well.

People on the way out ignored him so they wouldn't get caught doing something stupid on any TV show.

Soon, I reached the barista.

"A fat free ... mocha?" she asked.

"Don't deny me my daily fat please, I need it," I said, extracting a small laugh from her.

"Why is it that you have the same coffee everyday?"

"To ease life for wonderful baristas like you," I said, with the laugh changing into a deep smile.

The corporate slave was drawing attention of the others in the line, so I didn't have to worry about hurrying. The barista's eye looked at him like a boxer waiting to knockout the corporate slave.

"What did that guy have for breakfast?" I asked.

"Maybe too much mocha," she said, KOing me instead.

"And it's $2.75. You look a bit different today, that's why I got confused."

"What's wrong," I asked.

"Stop being an optimist," she said. "And shave that moustache the next time you come so I can recognize you."

That was the first of many reactions I got to the mouche which included "You look mature," "What are you building a moustache for, as a good luck charm for the Red Sox?" "You look like a South Indian - you are only missing are dhotis" and finally, the insult of all insults -- "King Kong with Godzilla's tail."

I paid up, and picked up the mocha. On the way out, I noticed the corporate hustler had a camera in his cap, and a Delphi XM radio with a probable microphone. Martha was chatting with him. Welcome to Candid Camera Martha. As if you hadn't had enough with your corporate board room scandals.

That was my morning at Starbucks. Not action packed, but interesting.

Italian crowds are hard to rock

MTV's coverage of the Live 8 concerts across the world is really cool. It goes from bureau to bureau, revealing latest updates to viewers. There is something just too sexy about it.

While Madonna was rocking Live 8 in London, Linkin Park seemed grumpy as their attempts to appease the crowd failed. A video cam showed the lead singer looking into the humongous Philly crowd where nobody clapped, raised to hands, or seemingly sang along. Damn, if you're bored, pretend to sleep, or pretend like you came for a walk in the park, only to get trapped by a cavalry of 600,000 concert-goers. If the last one's the case, good morning moron.

Berlin rocked -- the audience response to a German band was something Linkin Park would've paid to see. The French in Paris rocked up to beautiful Shakira. (she's not American... she's Colombian). It's ok to be eye candy but be unable to sing. The Pet Shop Boys were supposed to play in Moscow's Live Aid -- what we call "waking up from hibernation." They might just put the Moscow crowd to sleep for 20 years. (PSB's electronica, completely unsuited for live music).

Philly's back on, and the scene's becoming mysterious -- the Asian-looking dude who had a solo guitar riff for Linkin Park is now rapping the stage off for Jay Z with Indian flutes in the background mix. The crowd is responding well -- shows how much hip hop has evolved in 20 years. Run DMC, pop of hip hop, was the only hip hop band at Live Aid 20 years ago, which perhaps left the scene discouraged after Vanilla Ice was born. Vanilla Ice's rap became a hit, and Run DMC's attempt to define the word "hip hop" went on a free-fall.

London's back on. 20 years ago Madonna *rocked* Live Aid, raw and energetic a la Christina Aguilera today (Christina has singing talent, not Britney). Her act has dripped a bit -- energy levels are down, but the maturity and strong voice are there. And she's explosive, provocative and involves the crowds -- asking them to sing along, pointing the microphone to them, stripping a bit to tease the crowd and TV watchers. Something tells me she'll be the same even at 85.

Back to Philly, and Jay Z, Linkin Park and the musical Asian hobo seem to be rocking the joint. Jay Z just said "If we can spend billions and billions of dollars to kill people, we can spend billions of billions of dollars to help people live." Doesn't get more classy. You know what moronic ass this was a direct kick on - I can't mention names here out of profession courtesy.

And what follows is the Asian fella tearing apart a keyboard. What the f***? Did he ever take time out to have a pint while learning music?

In Paris, Shakira has suddenly turned into a queen belting out on-demand responses from the crowd. Hands swooning, she got it. Sing-alongs? She got it, even though cameras showed the French struggling. She'd probably get a French kiss and striptease if she wanted.

Viewing the event on AOL, Rome was hearing what sounded like country music. The country booed when the song ended. Gotta hand it out to Italians - not only are they the most expressive people on this planet, they are the bravest too. If your cooking sucks, they will make it well known and even trash the food for you, though it may sound like a praise thanks to their smooth accent.

Over in Johannesburg, Operation Baobab members are wearing suits and bongoing traditional African beats - sounded neat. The crowd looked lamed out - perhaps they were waiting for WWE wrestlers or tourists to get mugged (Jo'burg has the highest crime rates in the world). Operation Baobab should have fistfights and break up right now -- now that'll please the crowd.

No African artists were included in Live Aid 20 years ago -- only Western artists performed to help rid Africa of hunger and poverty. So Live 8 came up with the Johannesburg concert to put more focus on Africa. The world balance is majorly in the favor of G8, and poor countries are suffering, especially African countries. Live 8 aims to spread awareness about this. G8 countries are getting rid of debt, but providing no cash to help Africans develop.

Over to Berlin, and Green Day is wrapping up its act with "We are the Champions." The Germans are partying. A friend who lived there said Germans weren't allowed to take a bath before 9AM, as sleepers could get pissed if disturbed after a night-long beer-guzzling party. And here in the US we have trash bags crashing down a chute disturbing us at 5AM.

Superstars were dishing out some of the coolest song in the Live Aid concert 20 years ago -- Madonna, Eric Clapton, Sting, David Bowie, Phil Collins, Tina Turner, The Who, Run DMC, you name it. The only shame was Lionel Ritchie, who Dave Chappelle drafted out to the white folks in his show. Both the concerts mean a lot. People worldwide struggle with various issues -- lack of education among them.

Volunteer to help people in need, it is very satisfying. Helping jumpstart Akanksha, a school to help educate slum kids in 1993/94 was among the best things I have ever done -- seeing the kids progress with an education was the most satisfying. I wonder what the kids are doing now; but they certainly are living a better life with an education that they'd be living without otherwise. When we first approached those kids to come join the school, they were lifting buckets of water, doing domestic work, with their future going nowhere. Assisting people, giving them an opportunity, either through money or volunteering, can work wonders.

Back to London, Mariah Carey is walking on-stage now, and the crowd has screamed out loud. She was good when I saw her a few years ago, and the crowd is expecting a lot, but her sound's been degenerating over years. Ah, there are the four backup singers to save her. Great organizers, and absolutely the finest bands, including Youssou N'Dour, on this planet lined up. Doesn't get cooler.