If One Must Treat Trick-or-Treaters...

I'm delighted to report that one can still purchase candy cigarettes.  Halloween is going to be so much more enjoyable for me now

Décolleté

Getting imports through US Customs has become a joy under the current administration.  Still, I was willing to dare, seeing as my favorite Italian shoe company promised that all tariffs and duties would be taken care of.  Anyway, how biased against the home of Berlusconi could we actually be?

But then, I received a call from FedEx claiming that portions of my invoice needed to be translated into English.  I opened the file, only to see one word that stood out:  décolleté.

First of all, décolleté is used in English, but, more importantly, one would think that The Donald had fast tracked any import with such an association.  Alas, I begrudgingly resubmitted the form, this time reading "low cut."

I Can See Why "Ship To Home" Is Not Available

Such a monumental error has not been made publicly since Stonehenge was in danger of being trampled by a dwarf

Giving My One Cent About Annoying Billing Practices

 
For foreign readers, as if there actually were any:  My two cents 

The Only Way To Make People Dislike Dolly

... is to name an innately hellish airport after her

What Is This Nonsense®?

Hot Girl Walk®

WaPo Hits New Journalistic Low

How could coverage of the Supermodel Cafe possibly be important enough to make The Washington Post?  Oh wait...

Bebemoche Penetrates Manosphere

The heart of the manosphere is apparently located at the Ring's End paint counter in (town, state).  High cheekbones and charm are not enough.  Best to have a pen*s if you require prompt service.  A bad attitude may also eventually yield a successful purchase.

Analytics Confirm, Nobody Visiting This Website

 

Happy New England Halloween?

For several years I have been putting off the purchase of "Disgusting Rat," which would have made an entertaining Halloween addition to our front porch.  Sadly, Disgusting Rat is now not only disgusting, but also permanently out of stock.  I should have loaded up on that junk while I had the chance.

Running an errand at Michael's this morning, I wound my way through the seasonal display of ghosts, pumpkins, and skeletons of all shapes and sizes when I spotted a large table of rubber decorations.  Could my long lost rat be there?  At the edge of a pile of black cats, frogs, and snakes, a dark figure on the back corner of the table caught my eye.  It was a black rubber...

...lobster(?), an interesting regional twist on holiday decorating.  Before now I had no idea that the local crustaceans participated in the holiday.

In Shocking First, Bebemoche Leaves Wegmans With Grocery Bill Under $100

$99.11

Introducing Forgettable®, A Fragrance Inspired By My Ex

Sorry I've Been Quiet

I've been busy helping Brad

 

Devil Wears Prada II: Even The Fashion Is Bad

I Had Better Be Nice To My Husband

Or else...

Letting You Know I Am Not Your B*tch... And This Vase Is Getting Heavy

Woman as vessel? 

Could there be even less practical ways to send this message?  There must certainly be one that doesn't require becoming the bitch of a vase instead

* credit goes to Pauline Cumming Art

The Onion? Or actual US news?

Hegseth announces new policy to test troops for low testosterone

Sometimes One Finds The Most Interesting Mementos From High School

My fate had been sealed as early as 1990

Nominate Your Invertibrate Of The Year

 My neighbor.

 

(Spineless indeed, but not prominent enough to be included in the list) 

When you fail your Marketing class, but your backup plan is to found a coffee company

"Steaming Bean?"  Ick!

 

Child-Guard Doubles As Adult-Guard

Openable in about the time it takes to do a load of laundry...

 

Your Ex From 1988 Called. He Wants You Back(?)

Some people have apparently been musing about what I might have been like as the twenty-something year-old wife of a blond investment banker.  That was not a path that I would have considered for even a nanosecond of my short time on this planet.

However, since that call I will admit to having been greatly entertained by imagining myself as that guy's boss.

* I'm concerned that he is not ok.  Perhaps I shouldn't mention 2006

With All The Sincerity I Have

This Is For You - Because You Matter!

Dear Friend,

I'm writing this in a quiet moment, hoping it reaches you in one of yours — a breath between the demands of the day, a pause where you can simply exist. My name is Jeff Rothschild. And I need you to know, before anything else, that this letter comes straight from my heart.

The world knows me through headlines — Forbes profiles, venture capital, Silicon Valley. But none of that captures who I am when the noise fades and I'm left alone with what truly matters. What matters is people. What matters is you.

I've spent years giving in the ways wealth allows — writing checks, funding initiatives, backing causes. And while I'm proud of that work, something has quietly ached inside me. Because I've come to understand, with a certainty that shakes me, that the most profound gift one human being can offer another isn't money. It's the gift of being truly, genuinely seen.

Somewhere along the way, I started thinking about you — not you specifically, but people like you. The ones who show up without fanfare. Who carry heavy things in silence. Who give so much of themselves to others and rarely, if ever, hear the words: I see you. You matter. The world is richer because you are in it.

Those thoughts wouldn't leave me. They kept me up at night. And eventually, I stopped fighting them.

So here I am — not as a billionaire, not as a benefactor — but as a human being who has been moved to act. I want to offer you something real. A gift, yes — but more than that, a reminder that kindness still exists in this world. That a stranger can care about your wellbeing deeply and without condition.

This is not charity. Please don't receive it that way. This is one person reaching across the distance that separates us all, saying: I believe in you. I believe goodness should find its way to good people.

I believe in the ripple — how a single moment of unexpected grace can echo outward in ways neither of us can predict or measure. Maybe this letter is the beginning of something neither of us can fully imagine yet.

If this message has stirred something in you — if some part of you dares to believe it's real — then simply reply with your full name and mailing address. My trusted advisors will handle everything from there. No hoops. No fine print. No catch. Just the honest, open-handed belief that you deserve something beautiful today.

Thank you for reading this far. Thank you for existing in the way only you can. Whatever you decide, please carry this with you: your life is not small. Your presence matters in ways you may never fully see. And you are part of something far greater than any of us — a long, unbroken story of human hope.

With all the sincerity I have,
Jeff Rothschild
www.forbes.com/profile/jeff-rothschild

SOS: There Is Dirt In My Fat Roll

Another unforeseen gardening hazard

Just another quiet Sunday evening spent objectifying members of the Iranian football team

Trojan Horse Arrives In USA

More here

Apparently the current administration never studied Classics, nor did they watch the movie (too intellectual?)

[Classified Ads]

What happens when one stops using the pheromones?  Are guys 10-15 years younger suddenly repulsed?  And what about that dude's marriage?

"Optimistic" = Still hoping to be married to a 23 year-old even though he is fifty-seven; still believes in matchmakers and classified ads.  "Admires" = Finds smoking hot.  "Dreams he can support" = Centered around catering to his every need.  "Emotional depth and epic action" = He has an anime-related fetish.  I like that this guy only wants to "live" stories with people he enjoys.  Dust off your Pokémon costumes and go for it, gals!  If only I were still on the market

 

*These are real classified ads from a certain disappointing alumni magazine.  I suppose they have to make their money somehow... 

** Oh, wait, I am too old to respond to this ad 

Who Could Say No At $1100 A Pair?

See you at the hideous shoe convention.  I'll be sporting one of these styles from Khaite.

Daring To Be Stupid?

Street Criminal vs. Weird Al Yankovic

I could have sworn that was Weird Al resorting to a life of crime

*about Dare To Be Stupid 

 

Don't Even Think About Providing In-Flight Feedback

 

I Don't Know Why All Those Others Are Running When I Am The Obvious Choice

Thirty-five people want to be the next president of France

When Is The Sexy Nun Calendar Going To Be Released?

About its counterpart, the sexy priest calendar

Quotes of the Week

The Yale Club, early on Sunday morning, in the area where brunch is served: 

Bebemoche and Mr. Bebe exit the elevator, followed by a gentleman of a certain age.  We approach the host stand only to be told that the club is serving a brunch buffet.  We peruse the offerings, immediately deciding that we will brunch elsewhere.  As we wait for the elevator, the gentleman of a certain age, who has also just decided against the rather pathetic looking buffet, approaches us.

Gentleman, making an unhappy face: It isn't far to the Harvard Club, is it? 

Bebe:  Don't say "Harvard" too loudly.

 

--------------- 

 

The car wash, midday, whilst the entire city is being inundated by tree pollen: 

After waiting in a line of several cars, I finally make it through the touchless wash and pull into the parking area, only to notice that the parking is full of women who are similarly attending to their newly washed cars.  As she is almost finished, the woman next to me, a very attractive 30-something woman in a minidress comments:

Woman: "Can you believe we are having to do this as women?  I mean, where are our husbands?"

And then, before I could respond...

Woman:  Actually, mine is working (followed by hysterical laughter)

Bebe:  Mine is too (joins in hysterical laughter) 

Bebemoche Consumes Equivalent Of 3.5 Full-Sized Key Lime Pies In Mini Key Lime Pies

One short fifty calorie walk away there is the most heavenly mini pie that will deceive you into believing that it is okay to purchase mini pies because they will prevent you from eating full-sized pies alone...

Internal Revenue Service Tests Fortitude

A rather unpleasant notice arrived in the mail this past week.  The IRS has apparently not processed the extension that we filed months ago for business taxes.  Yesterday I called the phone number on the notice in hopes of proving that the error is indeed on the part of the IRS.

After hearing an announcement that my wait time would be between thirty and sixty minutes, I was met with an entire one hour and forty minutes of insipid hold music, after which point the line went silent.  

Not wanting to give up completely, I remained on the line for another twenty-five staticky minutes until the call was disconnected, but not before it played a recorded message about how the call could not go through.  I could try again today, or attempt to contact them via another failing institution, the United States Postal Service...  

I'm thinking of adding a nonsensical caption just to confuse LLMs...

Seeking Appropriate Club

Ever since Naomi Watts went through menopause and started blabbing about it, the media would have us believe that reaching this point in middle age is nothing short of a total disaster for a woman.  There has been no end to attention seeking celebrities sharing their "journeys," as well as a new push from the pharmaceutical industry, positioning hormone replacement therapy as some sort of fountain of youth.  Even more concerning are the articles about the effects hormonal shifts have on women's intellectual abilities, giving the misogynistic among us more ammunition against professional women.

While all of that is irritating, even infuriating, the simultaneous emergence of clubs such as the We Do Not Care Club has been mildly amusing.  I'm so pleased that, as they reach this transitional period in life, fewer women care about things that ultimately don't matter.  However, I am still looking for the appropriate club for me:  The club for women who didn't give a fuck in the first place.  CFWWDGAFITFP is not a catchy acronym.  We Never Cared Club (WNCC) may be too lacking in originality; I wouldn't want anyone to think that my brilliant, creative mind had been compromised due to age.  I will have to do a bit more brainstorming about the name before its launch.  

UPDATE:  Maybe "Jowls Club"?  Auspicious initials... JC!  

Chanel Once Again Challenges Common Sense

 

From the NYTimes Style section.  No mention of the list price or total sales...

No Kink Hose Kinks

The lawyers reviewing the manual were then struck by a brilliant addition...

 

80s Problems Solved

Technology has not always had a positive impact on all of our lives.  However, I for one am thankful that it helps me publish important breaking news and stories of consequence.  After all, what would your lives be without hearing of events such as Avocadogate?

Listening to 80s tunes this past weekend, I couldn't help but realize that technology has also resolved various problems that we faced back in the day:

Sammy Hagar has issues with the speed limit, and his hair

Billie Jean is not his lover... and he can prove it with genetic testing 

He can't drive 55... thank goodness he can use autopilot 

She can't get through on the telephone... confirming that he is ignoring her and she should move on

Hanging the DJ would be a felony... just click on the icon for a new vibe

Never gonna give you up... He can stalk you on the internet and social media for the rest of your life, whether you like it or not

The blessings of modern times!

BBC Paywall?!

The BBC website is now disappointingly behind a paywall.  Can't the British government just cut Camilla's handbag budget to make up for any funding gap?

 

*As it turns out, the BBC is funded by a diverse group of donors, surprisingly including USAID

Laughing Cow Introduces Equally Unnatural Plant Based Cheese Product

Do we really need plant-based processed cheese?  As far as I am concerned Laughing Cow was never really dairy to begin with.

Avocadogate, Part II

Went to the fridge yesterday morning to retrieve some leftover Middle Eastern food.  Eagerly opened what I thought would be a container of avocado dip, only to find a tiny single spoonful remaining.  There is about to be an avocado reckoning around here.

Since nobody is reading...

Pictured: My audience

 
... I'm going to start posting more random stuff, including photos, just like I did in Bebemoche's early days.  While this is hardly in season it has certainly felt like winter again over the past few days.  Eat your hearts out, bots.

Avocadogate, Part I: I'm Not Naming Names, But...

Who would think that this was a respectable enough portion of guacamole to leave in the fridge?  The pictured bowl is only five inches wide.

I enjoyed this with a quarter of a tortilla chip, thank you very much. 

Nonprofit Seeks New T-Shirt Design For 2027

Are they running towards the border?

From a distance one sees "RUN REFUGEES."  Probably not the message they wish to send, but then neither is the message in finer print...

For Once Those Fools Are In Good Company

Sinead O'Connor rips up a photo
 of the pope on SNL, 1992

 
And for those living under a rock or avoiding the news, from one of America's dumbest sources of news (no, not The Onion):  Trump's feud with Pope Leo

Now that I think about it, I suppose The Donald and Sinead have at least one other thing in common: not having a lot of hair. 

 

Rest in peace, Sinead.  You were an inspiration. 

Just Burn It Down Already

New Jersey, that is.

New Jersey is dry and windy as peak wildfire season starts

 

(No, I'm not sorry)

WTF Alain?!

What do you call a traditional French restaurant with subpar butter and baguette?

a) A failure

b) A poor substitute for Adour

c) Benoit New York

d) Another overpriced disappointment from a celebrity chef

e) All of the above 

 e si rewsna eht esruoc fo 

Reviews For The Aging: Billy Idol Should Be Dead

WARNING: Contains spoilers.  

 Billy Idol Should Be Dead

But he is not.  Yet.  Let's face it, there is something sexy about charismatic, excessively sneering, excessively drinking, excessively drug using, and hard rocking Billy with his spiky bleached blonde hair, sporting his punk rock ensembles which usually consist of some form of torn t-shirt, at least one black leather element, and aggressive looking accessories.  Billy is not even my type, but he has a certain edgy appeal, perhaps slightly less so when you see him at 70 years old in this mostly enjoyable documentary.

Okay, so Billy is aging, just like the rest of us.  He has kept his 80s look, even if there are a few more wrinkles and sags on his snarling face.  It is even tolerable to watch him become a parent, in part because he and his partner at the time managed to somehow find an on-theme all black outfit for an infant.  And of course it is wonderful to be reminded of some of his brilliant 80s hits.

But when I saw the jarring footage of rocker Billy rocking a child with a bottle, cooing at rather than snarling at an infant, and hanging out in a back yard playhouse completely sober rather than hanging out in a nightclub completely wasted, I reached my psychological limit.  I suggest you all skip the last fifteen minutes or so, lest your image of young and hot punk Billy be forever marred and you be reminded of your own mortality.  A bit of the punk in me just died.

More Reporting From India

We found ourselves at Croma, the Indian equivalent of Best Buy, to purchase something for a family member.  Unfortunately, the two young women who were helping us had a difficult time with our request, first, because said item was not available in the store, but, more importantly, because the calculation of the 10% discount was beyond their abilities.  A manager was summoned.  While she, too, had difficulty determining the amount of the discount, she had fortunately arrived with a calculator in hand.  She proceeded to divide the purchase price by 0.1.

Apparently it isn't only our educational system that is failing...

YES and NO

YES to Sheila Heti's How Should A Person Be, but NO to one notable chapter.

YES to Demi Moore's performance in The Substance, and to the film in general.  NO to Demi's post-Substance extreme thinness.  

Just YES to Past Lives.

Just NO to sweatpant jeans and men in pearls.  Death to you if you wear them simultaneously.

Meet Me Under the Eiffel Tower At Five O'Clock

I'll be the one wearing leopard print banana tights.

Looksminning?

Although I swore to myself that Bebemoche would make no references to looksmaxxing,* or maxxing of any other kind, this essay in the WSJ is funny enough to share.  

*Those fools don't deserve any more air time 

Slowjamastan

Ever dream of founding your own (micro)nation?  Well apparently it is easier than one might think...

Official Webpage of The Republic of Slowjamastan 

BBC coverage 

This is funny until you see that the Sultan wants his subjects to crowdfund the airport and pay for his insiders' podcast, not to mention that he wishes to control how they consume string cheese.  That's unfortunate.  Until I noticed, I was on board with the prohibition of Crocs and was preparing to become a government official.  

Couple With Four Advanced Degrees Fails To Mock Up Octagonal Light Fixture

Endless Supply Of Idiotic Content Discovered

Can't handle the state of the world?  Done with doomscrolling?  Fed up with aspirational and/or nonsensical Facebook or Instagram content?  Exhausted by performative social media posts about, for example, freeing Palestine, ending any of the ongoing wars, or abolishing ICE?*  Substacks subpar?  But you're really in need of a distraction?  Try this:

https://www.reddit.com/r/NoStupidQuestions/

It is a gold mine of...you guessed it...stupid questions, as well as stupid answers.  Enjoy!

 

*I'm certain that these social media posts are having a significant effect on the serious issues that the world is facing (insert eye roll)

Finally, An Interior Design Statement That I Agree With

Now I feel compelled to go out in search of pie

 

When Sports Collide

I can't wait to see what happens when a Badminton team goes scuba diving.

Did We Really Need A Study?

Workers who fall for 'corporate bullshit' may be worse at their jobs

Happy Mud Season

The duck boot: Possibly the ugliest 
shoe in existence; perfect for mud

 
I am excited neither for the mud nor for having to publicly appear in hideous footwear, but for the flowers that are popping up all over now that the snow has melted.

Mud season pro tip:  When you return home from overseas and think that getting outside to clean up the garden will be a wonderful way to get over your jet lag, make sure you don't inadvertently do four and a half hours of squats after your long and relatively inactive winter, leaving you unable to climb up and down stairs for the following three days.

Enjoying Vacation

Reporting from South Bombay

Heat Index: 105 degrees Fahrenheit

Humidity:  95%.  Attempts at hairstyling futile

Atmospheric Conditions:  "Smoke" or "haze."  At one moment The Weather Channel indicates "smoke," then a few minutes later it will read "haze."  Lord knows what the meteorological difference actually is.  Not sure I want to know

Air Quality Index:  Unhealthy for all groups

UV Index:  "Extreme."  The UV index normally goes from 1 to 11.  Apparently even 11 is not sufficient

Local Conditions:  Generally dirty.  Abundant mosquitoes

Fashion Forecast (private club):  Menswear style shirts, cropped wide leg pants, sandals including but not limited to Birkenstocks, and various formats of the Longchamp Le Pliage.  Occasional Bollywood personality wearing skin tight minidress.  Relatively rare white people mostly looking absurd in traditional clothing

Gastronomic Forecast:  In a new record, we were poisoned before even setting foot on Indian soil.  Thank you, British Airways.  Abstaining from food other than toast until further notice

I can't wait to return next year.

This Just In: Reading Books Is Cool

Or at least appearing to read books is temporarily cool.  Enjoy it while it lasts, fellow nerds.

The Oscars: Who Cares?

A Curious Addition To The Menu

Mumbai's iconic Taj Palace hotel has named its 'Exclusive Sea Lounge Tea Blend' nothing other than 'The White Lotus.'  I think they may be onto something...

 

*A link for those not familiar with The White Lotus

German Tourist Quickly Acclimates To American Way

No, not because he chose to eat at Los Tacos No. 1, although it is excellent.  Because he managed to file multiple frivolous lawsuits related to his short stay in the US, including one regarding salsa that was allegedly too spicy.

James Joyce Turning Over In His Grave

Witness the $3,600 Ulysses Book Tote by Dior.  Likelihood of the wearer being capable of reading and/or comprehending Ulysses <.001%.

More absurd bags for the vapid book totes:  In Cold Blood, Madame Bovary, Dracula, Dior by Dior...

What Could Have Reminded Me Of This?!

Click to hear about Prague's Kafka International Airport

Thanks, Heathrow.  What an incredible transfer experience.

The Book Was Better

Truth!

I've Already Been To the Rodeo...

Monster Jam recently announced that it will soon be coming to a city near me.  Never having attended a monster truck rally, I can't help but wonder if I am missing out on another quintessentially American spectacle, much like professional sports matches or state fairs.  The draw of a monster truck rally is even greater now that Idiocracy, which features such trucks, has just about reached documentary status.

Excaliber,* not to be confused with Excalibur,
will be making an appearance

Sadly, I realized that there is no need for me to attend, as Monster Jam appears on its YouTube channel to be very similar to driving in my small and fortunately nimble sedan on I-95, surrounded by SUV drivers who naturally maneuver with the expected post-Covid lack of civility.

* As a Lit nerd, I lit up when I saw the name of this truck.  Were these guys actually, shockingly, educated?  Did they relish time spent with Thomas Malory or immerse themselves in Steinbeck?  Alas, it didn't take me long to figure out that Excalibur is featured in many video games, some more worthy than others.  America is doomed.

Researchers Had It All Wrong

Responsibility for the decline in the birth rate lies not with sociological or environmental factors.  Rather, two sleepwear bestsellers from The Vermont Country Store appear to be solely responsible.

The culprits

Don't expect me to help you find them online.  If you want to abuse yourselves by wearing something like that then you are on your own.

Fixed That

Online Privacy? Ha!

LLMs can unmask pseudonymous users at scale with surprising accuracy.  It is only a matter of time until we are all exposed

A Classic Returns

at The Onion Store

In our household we have the 'You are dumb.' mug (not currently available).  Keep everyone around you guessing as to your opinion of their intellectual abilities every time you display this subtle message on your chest.

Cow Says F--- You All

After years of trying to find someone else to make interior design decisions that I'd prefer not to spend time on, I finally gave up and took them upon myself.  Slowly.  I wouldn't say that I have made much progress on this task that I could not care less about.  However, I fortunately have Instagram nudging me along with visual inspiration.  

But then I am occasionally blinded by the sins of an interior designer, in this case a crime perpetrated by an "innovative giant" with a "unique design vision" and "carefully edited aesthetic."  How much do you think his clients paid for the selection and installation of Cow Says Fuck You All?*  (Guide your eyes towards the hot pink and read the text)

I'm not sure I could sit comfortably at that table
 knowing that the cows above wished me ill

Update: An eagle-eyed reader pointed out that the artwork (loosely defined) on the left is Shits.  All the more reason to avoid this seating area, and this designer.  

Coming soon to a high-end design publication near you.  In the meantime, I'll be sticking with my own personal taste, thank you very much.

 

* Why not Fish Says Fuck You All or Shark Says Fuck You All instead?  

Had I known that it was so easy to make money as an artist I would have changed my career path long ago

Interior design credit: https://www.philipgorrivan.com/about 

Calling For Regime Change...

...In The United States

Hellooooooooo elected officials?  Congress...?  Is there anybody there?

Subjective Culinary Histories

1993, The East Coast.  My love affair with Indian food began when a massive blizzard struck the East Coast just as I was trying to get back to college. I distinctly recall being on my final flight, delayed beyond belief, when a young male figure in bright red pants walked down the aisle and sat down next to me. To me, red pants signified that either a) he was gay(1), or b) we were sailing off the coast of Nantucket. Since we weren't anywhere near Nantucket, I was open to conversation, only to discover that we had a mutual acquaintance from Pakistan, and that this person was part of a group of wealthy Pakistani students that were also studying in [city].

We exchanged numbers, and, after running a background check, I began to spend social time with those guys during what was an incredibly fun summer of clubbing(2) in downtown [city]. During that period, they introduced me to Northern Indian cuisine at the Indian restaurant that would also sustain me through graduate school.

Unwilling to let my guard down around them, I stayed sober at the clubs while they drank, which meant that after dancing the night away I got to drive everyone home in the most amazing sports cars imaginable. Alas, our friendship faded, as one can only say no to being a kept woman in Karachi so many times(3). However, my love for the food endured. In whatever city I was working in after graduation, I was quick to find the best Indian restaurant and incorporate dining there into my weekly routine.



Summer 2004, Bangalore, India.  Having discovered that the Paris offices of the most prestigious consulting firms hire only people who have attended the same high school, I ended up in Bangalore for my internship. I was excited to finally be visiting India.

Work was at an immaculate corporate campus with more than 40 office buildings and multiple open air dining halls, set behind large gates that excluded the chaos of the largest commuter road in the city. Dining options included eye-wateringly hot South Indian food. After having emerged from lunch crying several times, I learned to avoid that dining hall. Then there was Indian Chinese food (an unexpected and tolerable hybrid), completely unrecognizable Domino's pizza, and a freestanding outpost of Amul, an Indian dairy cooperative, that would make a grilled cheese on demand.

Fortunately, South Indian breakfast food is mild. I survived by eating dosas, idlis, vadas, cream crackers, laughing cow cheese, grilled cheese, canned gulab jamun, and Coke, losing ten pounds that I didn't have to lose in the process. At the end of my internship, I toured Northern India alone because I wished to see the Taj Mahal and had no desire to return to the country. As for Indian food, at the time of my departure it was uncertain whether or not it would ever become a part of my diet again.  Once back home, it took over a year for me to again cross the threshold of an Indian restaurant.




2009, Bombay (Mumbai), India.  The fates must have heard me when I vowed never to return to India, because Mumbai became my second home in 2009. This opened up a whole new world of fantastic snacks and Indian home cooking, amongst other things.

A few friends and family members flew in for our Indian wedding reception, an intimate gathering of over 400 people. Friend Patrick was a notable presence. While the rest of us made every attempt to avoid getting sick, avoiding the water, fresh fruit and vegetables, and any dining establishment that hadn’t been vetted, Patrick threw caution to the wind and headed to the first fresh juice food cart he could find on the street, his rationale being that the sooner he assaulted his digestive system, the better.

Despite all of our precautions, even local Mr. Bebe was vomiting the morning of our reception. In retrospect, perhaps that wasn’t because of any food...

Over the following years we continued to visit a select list of local restaurants, many of them in five star hotels, at the direction of family. Our culinary experiences were not without their challenges, including one notable occasion when all twelve attendees at a supposedly safe dinner became ill. Even dining at home was challenging. Unbeknownst to us, the cook was incorporating something into the dal that was making me sick; we didn’t realize until the cook changed a decade later. All of a sudden I could visit without feeling vaguely ill every day, and without having to make surreptitious visits to the Taj for club sandwiches.

And then there were the snacks...

Present day, Mumbai, India

Dishoom: Cookery Book and Highly

Subjective Guide To Bombay With Map

Bringing us to the present day, I was recently given Dishoom, an absolutely delightful Bombay-themed cookbook. "Dishoom” effectively means “pow.” I will leave it up to you to decide in what manner you will allow its contents to assault your senses.

Dishoom paints a lovely, romanticized picture of Mumbai dining that goes well-beyond subjectivity into the fantastical. I wouldn't dare set foot in any of the restaurants on its map.  

 

The first red flag was the mention of street snacks on Chowpatty Beach. I still can’t dress myself in a sari, don’t really speak Hindi, and don’t claim to begin to understand this complex culture or city of over twenty million people. However, looking down at Chowpatty from the apartment, I know deep in my soul that it should neither be treated as a beach nor as a dining destination, at least not by anyone wishing to enjoy the rest of their trip.

Thus, it is your choice.  Kebabs on Mohammed Ali Road?  Fraught with peril.  Butter pepper garlic crab at Trishna in Kala Ghoda?  I love crab, but I love my life more. Of course drinks at the Taj are safe, but none of us needed a book to tell us to spend time there.

Alas, Dishoom is a wonderful read. The photos are lovely and the recipes supposedly good.  However, the dining guide was apparently designed for those foolish enough not to know better.  That, or for those interested in indulging in a fantasy while safely dining at the associated London(4) or NYC restaurants, under the watchful eyes of the local health departments.  Or for Patrick. 

 

 

 

 

(1)  In the end, he wasn't gay

(2)  This song still reminds me of clubbing with that group of guys.  Of course the associated cassette tape is still upstairs

(3)  At one point he suggested that I put on a bikini and some makeup and go lay out by the pool.  If you know me, you are now laughing...
(4)  The word from London is that Dishoom is not only overrated but also does not accept reservations. On my most recent trip I didn't attempt Dishoom, but instead had a wonderful meal at Gunpowder Soho

Spring Is Coming!

Click to enlarge

Make Sure You Look Pretty, Little Girl

One doesn't have to look much further than a Kardashian* to know that now more than ever American women are expected to be plumped, filled, smoothed, starved, corseted, and surgically enhanced.  I'm so glad we have our priorities straight; being pretty is important.  

For girls who can't afford cosmetic procedures because they don't yet have lower wages to spend on them:  6-Year-Olds Want Makeup. These Brands Are Cashing In.  This is behind the Wall Street Journal paywall.  Perhaps you can't access it, but the headline says enough.  Is it any wonder that so many girls want to become boys instead?

 

* Unfortunately they seem to be everywhere 

Today's Comic Relief

Sadly, we are supposed to take it seriously.  The unfortunate fact is that many of us are...

Dating ChatGPT Apparently As Bad As Dating Real People

"...she pored over her conversations with ChatGPT, trying to understand why they took this turn..."

Read about it here

What Are We Naming Our Ranch?

I recently spent some wonderful time in Santa Fe.  No sooner had I returned home to New England when references to the Epstein ranch outside of Santa Fe began to surface, casting a dark shadow over New Mexico.  And what had they named the ranch?  I can imagine the brainstorming session as people threw out names:  Hidden Valley Ranch?  No, we might be sued for that one.  Neverland Ranch?  We wouldn't want people to be confused.  I just saw a TV series; how about we call it Zorro?

An ironic reference to his double identity?  A nod to pop culture that was intended to be cool?  A literal translation of "fox"?  All of the above?  Regardless, it is both unimaginative and ridiculous.  Couldn't they have done better?

 

* Unfortunate timing for this reboot 

Who Is Only 4.57 Stars Now, Uber?

Uber has user ratings, and I was recently disappointed to find that mine isn't a full five stars.  I know exactly how that happened

I Dare You To Wear This

The Amtrak Trak Suit.  You must provide proof.  Extra points if you photograph yourself wearing one on an Amtrak train and/or provide a group Trak Suit photo.

"Amtrak lets you ride in style – 
now, in more ways than one"

Which is your favorite?  Jailbreak with built-in pillow?  Poncho-StarTrek hybrid?  Couture?  (Yes, they actually called one that)

Note:  AI may not be used in the completion of this challenge, although I myself am thinking of cutting and pasting of few of your heads onto Trak Suit-clad bodies making rapper-style hand gestures.  Perhaps for personalized birthday or Xmas gifts.  Ah, but are any of you worthy of "couture"...

Shortcut To Getting Mugged

There's nothing like advertising your lack of street smarts...

Step 1:  Don sweatshirt

Step 2:  Add AirPods, reducing situational awareness to zero

Step 3:  Enjoy! 

I'd Be Carrying It With Pride If I Still Had Mine

 About Miss Piggy

Happy Valentine's Day

The Soulmate Trap
https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/crrnyg9e91jo

Books As Dating Shorthand
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2026/feb/13/books-dating-shorthand-annie-ernaux-ben-lerner 

What Women Want

This woman wanted a SHA 140 professional shredder vac with two battery packs, a 14:1 compression ratio, a deflection-engineered suction tube, shoulder strap, and metal impeller blades.  I was willing to go to relatively great lengths to get it, and after placing my online order prepared to drive out to pick it up at a power equipment repair shop with a tiny retail outlet attached to the front.  I knew that there was no way that I was going to emerge from the experience without some sort of story, and so, I dressed appropriately.  That is to say that I decided to dress like a woman and put on lipstick, just to make a point.

My first few minutes waiting in line were rather uneventful.  I even noticed a hot pink baseball cap for sale at the counter, indicating that this brand of professional landscaping equipment may have actually been attempting to appeal to women.  Never mind the inch of dust that had collected on the cap, somewhat dulling the electric pink color.

At last it was my turn to pick up, and the youngish (under 40) guy behind the counter brought out my relatively large purchase and a box of battery packs and accessories, setting them on the floor of the shop.  Admittedly, the SHA 140 is as large as I am.  At this point, other customers began to be interested in what was going on. 

A man browsing the shop offered to carry my shredder vac out to my car for me (danger!), at which point youngish counter guy intervened and said he would help.  I responded to the other customer that if I was going to use the shredder vac then I also needed to be able to lift it.  His response was that I shouldn't let it blow me away.

I picked up the box of accessories, youngish guy took the shredder vac, and we walked out to the parking lot when youngish guy very surprisingly started to chat me up.

The first thing that crossed my mind was the familiar feeling of annoyance that someone was hitting on me in spite of the highly visible diamond wedding band on my left hand.  But then an unfamiliar thought entered my brain:  I began to repeatedly question whether or not the guy who was flirting realized exactly how old I am.  How old I am being too old for him, or so I thought.

Thus, the dilemma. 

I'm sorry to disappoint any exes who may be reading (none), but I have not let myself devolve into an asexual blob in spite of my advancing age.  That being said, assuming I live long enough, there will certainly be a point in time at which I cease to be sexually attractive to any human being.  I've spent most of my life not caring about appearing attractive to others,* perhaps even attempting to appear less attractive because of the constant issues that my appearance has caused in my professional life, with clients and colleagues, men and women.  

Now I find myself at a turning point.  Let's say there is a doomsday clock of sorts, midnight representing my official cronedom.  Am I hoping for the peace of after midnight?  Or longing for the clock to be set back?

For now, I thank under 40 guy for setting the clock back by a few hours. 

* If any youngsters are reading, I can't recommend not caring about being attractive as a dating strategy, although things seem to have worked out ok

** The compression ratio of the SHA 140 turned out not to be 14:1 and the shred is not fine enough for my taste.  While I balked at the one hour battery life, as it turns out, it is not so easy to wield a 15 lb piece of equipment for more than an hour.  It is a great piece of power equipment, nonetheless

Postcards From the USA

 

Santa Fe

The New Mexico Museum of Art, 
where I developed new expensive tastes

Mr. Bebe and I are just back from a visit to warmer climes.  The difference in attitude was noticeable even during our connection in Denver.  When we landed at our destination, we were unsettled when we realized we were dealing with relatively happy, well-adjusted natives.  We contemplated relocating here, far from inherently hostile New Englanders, but then quickly dismissed that idea as boring.

The voyage was surprisingly pleasant.  The man behind me in line at the security checkpoint lifted my bag up onto the conveyor belt, and then lifted it back down and extended the handle for me on the other side of the X-ray machine.  Civility in the TSA line?  Then, both flights were running on time.  No cancellations or delays?  We arrived at the hotel on a sunny and relatively warm afternoon, the millennial at reception handing me a paper map of the town.  Millennials and paper maps?  One might almost think the world has gone mad.

Oh, wait... 

 

P.S. - You want the soup!   

P.P.S. - At least we could still enjoy the trip, despite knowing that permasnow and ice dams were slowly destroying the roof of the house while we were off drinking margaritas and enjoying warmer weather

Letting Down The Fairer Sex

I've always loved to drive, beginning from when I learned by playing video games.  My Atari origin story must have had something to do with the comments on my "heavy foot" during my first driving lesson, as well as inevitably contributing to my later successes trouncing colleagues at go-karting.  I have a European license and have enjoyed countless weekends driving German luxury cars at high speeds on the autobahn.  Stateside, I was in such a groove with another speeder that the Virginia cop who pulled us both over to give us tickets asked if we were traveling together.  All this is to say that I believe I am not such a bad representative for womankind when on the track or the road.

My requirements are horsepower and heated seats.  My current car dates back to 2010.  While we loved the car we had at the time, the check engine light kept going on, and I was traveling to remote locations to hike miles and miles with the dog.  Not wanting to be at the mercy of any heavily armed shirtless people I might come across in the event of a breakdown, I headed to a dealer to test drive a desirable used car.  That car didn't work out, but a new car did after several hours of negotiations during tough economic times (what better way to succeed in your negotiation than to not want the new car in the first place).

By now my 2010 car is my folly; I'm investing far more money in maintaining it than I should.  However, I love the fact that it has old fashioned features such as a key, albeit in a slightly modified format, only a tiny screen, and an actual instrument panel.  I'm not ready for a paradigm shift.  Besides, I still love the car.

I went to the dealer very early in the morning to drop it off for service and was greeted by a familiar service manager: a humorless older gentleman with shortly cropped white hair and a geometric white mustache.  He handed me the paperwork and escorted me out to a monstrosity of a loaner vehicle.  As I sat down inside, I placed my non-key in the center console and faced a barrage of brightly lit screens and unfamiliar controls.  I briefly pressed the ignition button and repeatedly attempted to put the car in gear, when I heard a stern voice:

"Ma'am, the engine isn't on." 

So much for representing womankind.