Duties Include: Buying Edible Underwear

Now I really want to be a personal assistant.

A Note About The T-Shirt Thing

Don't worry.

I'm not planning to sell t-shirts on the blog. ^__^

Though it did provoke an interesting response.

The post was labeled "humor," after all. As was the implication that the only reason I was doing it was to get you to give me money, like the Girl Scouts do. Also the fact that I used the word "thong." ^__^

The slogans, for the benefit of new visitors, were not meant to be "desi-centric;" they were meant to be "Pretty Blue Salwar-centric," in that they're all things that have happened to me or that I've said, on the blog. I'm not trying to out-desh anyone.

Obviously, wearing one would be super-duper-meta, probably so meta that no one else would understand what you were referring to. I'm not that popular. Yet.

Which means that the only point of the thing was to "social guilt" my friends and family into giving me money, which I very openly stated was my purpose for creating the t-shirt campaign. ^__^ ("If you like me, you have to buy one!" That kind of thing.)

Anyway. Now that that business is over, I'm going to move on to Plan B:

The Pretty Blue Salwar Pledge Drive.

You Wouldn't Believe It, Except It Is True

So while I was in India, bein' all culture-stealing an' all, my university was busy putting a rather large error on my tuition bill.

An error which I did not discover until I returned back to the states.

Essentially, they charged me for out-of-state tuition although I am a resident of my university's state and have been getting in-state tuition since the start of my grad program. This adds over $1500 to my bill.

So I went to get it taken care of.

It would seem like this process would be easy. Go to the billing office, explain that there has been an error, and watch someone push a few computer keys to make it right again.

It wasn't so easy. First of all, the university staff didn't seem to know where I needed to go. I began at the registrar's office, who sent me to Student Accounts, who sent me to the bursar, who sent me back to the registrar; by this time it was a different employee sitting behind the desk, who said "oh, of course, we can take care of that."

First, however, I had to prove that I did in fact live in my state. Which my university didn't seem to believe, despite the fact that they had been mailing things to my address for the past few years. But they have a rule, intended probably for undergraduate "dependents" but applied post-retroactively to graduate students as well, that unless certain documents can be provided it is assumed that all students (regardless of age) live under the jurisdiction of their parent/guardian and are residents of their parent/guardian's state.

Which is, in this case, out-of-state. Never mind that I've been receiving in-state tuition every semester previously, and have had my own apartment for four years. Suddenly, I'm back to being a ward of my family.

So the person at the registrar's office asks me to bring back some documentation, including my driver's license, my car title, copies of bills sent to my home address, copies of bank statements from a local bank, my current apartment lease, the previous year's tax statements, etc.

The next morning, I arrive with my sheaf of papers.

"Oh, no, we need photocopies," the woman tells me.

I ask her if there's a copy machine in the office I can use. She tells me I have to go to the student center and use the copy shop there. (My university is baffling in its lack of copy machines. There are a few ancient machines in the library, but for all other copying we are expected to haul a$$ down to the Kinko's-style copy shop in our student center.)

There isn't time for me to do this before I go to work (am temping again), so after work I set out for the copy shop. (Yes, I was tempted to just do the copying at work and get it over with. But we're talking about 30 pages of material here, and I'm a good employee who doesn't steal copies from her employer.)

The copy shop, as I have found from past experiences, only takes cash. And I rarely carry cash, as I have found out (again, from past experiences) that if I carry cash I am very likely to let it dribble away into vending machines and the like.

So I had to find an ATM.

Frugal-minded, I set off to use my bank's ATM and avoid nasty surcharges.

But -- oh, here's the part you won't believe -- when I drove up to the bank, I found that the building was in the process of being torn down. Funny the things that can happen in three months. It's a national chain, so I'll be able to go to another building, but I didn't feel like tooling around the city to find out where the next closest banking opportunity was. At some point, after all, burning gas outweighs the ATM surcharge.

I ended up using the ATM outside of the university copy shop. $2.50 for the privilege.

30-plus copies later (and an interesting exchange with a rather vacuous clerk who asked me, when I went up to the register, "how many copies did you make?" and really wanting to answer "um... one..."), I went back again to the registrar's office, thankful that it was open late. I showed her the photocopies and then she gave me a form to sign.

The form needed notarization.

But the notary leaves work at 3 p.m. and had gone home for the day.

*facepalm*

In less than two minutes, I was outside feeding a dollar into a vending machine.

We'll see if I can get this problem solved tomorrow.

I'll Be Your PA, Too!

The NYT had an editorial about the rise in hiring Indian "personal assistants" (people willing to do any task you request, from buying groceries online to selecting birthday presents to recruiting and assessing romantic partnerships). I've written on that subject already, here.

The editorial took me to this blog, which took me to a British website titled I Want A PA.

I scanned the website eagerly, looking for the one piece of information I could not find.

Where to sign up.

No, not as an employer. As a PA.

I'd be darned good at it; I'm charming, articulate, youthful, and full of internet-savvy. I could make those dinner reservations for you, no problem. I'd even make a chart incorporating nutrition information as well as any reviewer ratings of various dishes, so you'd know exactly what to order.

Why should this new world-flattening trend exclude me? You could even pay me in rupees, as long as they eventually ended up in my Midwest, USA bank account.

*sigh*

Interested parties can contact me at prettybluesalwar AT hotmail DOT com.

Fun With Avatars, Disney-Style!

So I was doing some research into the Disney Fairies, to see if the DF called "Rani" was actually an Indian-themed fairy (this is mostly because earlier I had predicted that the first desi Disney character would be named Maya, and I hate to be proven wrong).

Rani, however, is as blonde and blue-eyed as they come. She could be one of those "white tigers," but I doubt it.

Anyway. Disappointment aside, I clicked on the link that allowed me to turn myself into a Disney Fairy!

Here it is!



Very sad that there wasn't the option to give my fairy glasses.

Even sadder that most of the available "tops" for my fairy looked like lingerie.

These creatures are, after all, marketed for ages 6-8.

Oh, Disney.

Ballet Shoes: A Picture Of The Trio

From Emma Watson Empire:

Too old, too old, too old. All three sisters. (Victoria Wood, who plays Nana, looks about the right age.) It'd be one thing if they made the characters older, but the costuming suggests they're trying to pass the girls, or at least Posy, off as pre-or-very-young teens. (Unfortunately, it just makes them all -- especially Petrova -- look like really early bloomers.)

I'm intrigued by the way Lucy Boynton, who plays Posy, is carrying herself. When I first saw the snap I thought "oh, they cast a real dancer as Posy, not an actor." Then I did my research and found out who Lucy Boynton was. In the shot, her posture's almost perfectly aligned. (Her neck is retracted.) This seems promising. I'm going to be very interested to see her dance.

More pictures here. Apparently the scene in which the trio goes on holiday includes some "dressing up as Native Americans" fun.

Were the actual games described in the book (including "hide-and-go-seek in a hayloft") not good enough for the BBC? Why have our famous trio dress up as insulting stereotypes? And why do they have their skirts hiked up so high?

Just In Time For Some Of The Holidays (and very early for next year's Diwali!)

In my quest for ways to make a little more money (until Daniel teaches me how to break into the world of Mystery Shopping ^__^) I'm considering selling Pretty Blue Salwar merch.

It'll be like selling Girl Scout Cookies; my family will buy some because they're related to me, and the rest of you might buy because you like me. Or because you hate to turn away a Girl Scout.

Before I sign up with CafePress, I thought I would test the waters.

Would anyone reading this actually consider purchasing a t-shirt/sweatshirt/baby doll tee/hoodie emblazoned with any of the following slogans?

1. "What's in your tiffin-carrier?" (Image: Tiffin carrier.)

2. "Life is a continuous travelogue." (Image: None, but a really pretty font.)

3. "Nothing's wrong with eating weevils! Paharganj 2007" (Image: Cereal bowl with cartoon weevils poking their heads out. Also a spoon.)

4. "I Survived The Punjab" (Image: State of Punjab with Amritsar starred. If we want to go all double-entendre and Punjabi pride, I could put this one on a thong.)

If any of this interests you (interest does not mean "commitment to buy"), let me know and I'll get the designs up this weekend.

If none of this interests you, then... I may be putting ads up on the blog pretty soon. ^__^