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i just wanted to drop this little image that i just found on my computer.  yes, that would be snow predicted for atlanta, with a high of 100 for dubai.  amazing.  yes, this is our winter too.

[weather | 02.28.09]


i just wanted to let you all know that i have made a lot of changes to my photo gallery site, and have added quite a few new photos.  if you have a minute, check it out here.

i don’t really understand valentine’s day.  it is a day in which you are supposed to be romantic… but… what if we don’t want to be?  what if it is a terrible day and you don’t like anyone that day?  what if it is a normal day?  who is to say you are supposed to be nicer and more romantic that specific day than any other?

that being said, here is my contribution to v-day.  it’s all mushy.  it’s as mushy as i’m going to get.  enjoy.

[vday love | around the world]

each one of these pictures was taken in a different place in the world, including berlin, california, cologne, cyprus, paris, helsinki, india, london, mexico, naples, nyc, russia, tokyo, and tuscon between the years 1955 and 2001.  cute, huh?

okay, thats it.  no more mushy for the next 364 days.


the other day, jonathan and i took erin from hba atlanta around to a few pretty nice hotels in dubai.   i just wanted to drop a few of the pictures here for everyone to see.


Park Hyatt Dubai

Raffles Dubai

The Address Hotel 


i just wanted to take a minute to share the current weather in dubai.

dubai + 02.11.09

yes.  february 11.  4 in the afternoon.  90 degrees.  feels like georgia. 🙂

saturday jonathan, craig, and i went into the desert… just to drive around and spend a day somewhere besides our apartments.  here are some pictures from the little adventure.


this is the view of the city from a road a little ways into the desert.  we went way further than this.






jonathan and craig decided it would be fun to roll down this dune.  this was before they got stuck waist deep in sand.  and ate some.



these are some random camels in the middle of the desert.  but look at the picture above this one.  you were warned. 


this is a little “town” in the desert.  there were 3 “houses” and a mosque.  thats it.  not quite sure where they get their food from… 


more adventures later.  a where’s waldo soon.  see ya!




i almost forgot to tell you about our lovely monday evening!

so jonathan and i have been working from different offices. yes, that’s annoying when we share one car, and we are 30 minutes apart. so i have to wait around for him to come pick me up from the office when he drives the car to work. well monday evening, he left work around 6:15, like usual, but when he got to the car, it was in a row of 5 or 6 cars that were completely covered in little black polka-dots. tar polka-dots. on a white car.


he was parked in front of a construction site, (which in dubai, is almost completely un-avoidable), and wasn’t the only person standing at their car admiring their new paint job. i’m sure the guy with the brand new porche was thrilled. i mean, who doesn’t want a polka-dotted car? nobody more than jonathan i’m sure. well, maybe the porche guy.


so they find the construction site manager and ask him about the tar. his response was, and no, i’m not kidding, “that was last shift. that manager left 30 minutes ago.” and he leaves.


yep. that’s it. he leaves.


jonathan and i proceeded to spend the rest of our night driving all over the city to find a car wash that can get tar off of our entire car. guess what? we found one. they washed the car in GASOLINE.


three hours later we were home with a sparkly new car that reeked of gasoline and made you high just from getting within 50 feet of it. but it was white again.


so i ask you, what is the cost of living in a city full of morons? apparently, this week at least, its 150 dirham and three hours of our night. fun stuff, right there.


this is a letter written by a disgusted british man to richard branson after a flight from mumbai to london.

Dear Mr. Branson

REF: Mumbai to Heathrow 7th December 2008

I love the Virgin brand, I really do which is why I continue to use it despite a series of unfortunate incidents over the last few years. This latest incident takes the biscuit.

Ironically, by the end of the flight I would have gladly paid over a thousand rupees for a single biscuit following the culinary journey of hell I was subjected to at the hands of your corporation.

Look at this Richard. Just look at it: [see image 1, below].


I imagine the same questions are racing through your brilliant mind as were racing through mine on that fateful day. What is this? Why have I been given it? What have I done to deserve this? And, which one is the starter, which one is the desert?

You don’t get to a position like yours Richard with anything less than a generous sprinkling of observational power so I KNOW you will have spotted the tomato next to the two yellow shafts of sponge on the left. Yes, it’s next to the sponge shaft without the green paste. That’s got to be the clue hasn’t it. No sane person would serve a desert with a tomato would they. Well answer me this Richard, what sort of animal would serve a desert with peas in: [see image 2, below].


I know it looks like a baaji but it’s in custard Richard, custard. It must be the pudding. Well you’ll be fascinated to hear that it wasn’t custard. It was a sour gel with a clear oil on top. It’s only redeeming feature was that it managed to be so alien to my palette that it took away the taste of the curry emanating from our miscellaneous central cuboid of beige matter. Perhaps the meal on the left might be the desert after all.

Anyway, this is all irrelevant at the moment. I was raised strictly but neatly by my parents and if they knew I had started desert before the main course, a sponge shaft would be the least of my worries. So lets peel back the tin-foil on the main dish and see what’s on offer.

I’ll try and explain how this felt. Imagine being a twelve year old boy Richard. Now imagine it’s Christmas morning and you’re sat their with your final present to open. It’s a big one, and you know what it is. It’s that Goodmans stereo you picked out the catalogue and wrote to Santa about.

Only you open the present and it’s not in there. It’s your hamster Richard. It’s your hamster in the box and it’s not breathing. That’s how I felt when I peeled back the foil and saw this: [see image 3, below].


Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking it’s more of that Baaji custard. I admit I thought the same too, but no. It’s mustard Richard. MUSTARD. More mustard than any man could consume in a month. On the left we have a piece of broccoli and some peppers in a brown glue-like oil and on the right the chef had prepared some mashed potato. The potato masher had obviously broken and so it was decided the next best thing would be to pass the potatoes through the digestive tract of a bird.

Once it was regurgitated it was clearly then blended and mixed with a bit of mustard. Everybody likes a bit of mustard Richard.

By now I was actually starting to feel a little hypoglycemic. I needed a sugar hit. Luckily there was a small cookie provided. It had caught my eye earlier due to it’s baffling presentation: [see image 4, below].


It appears to be in an evidence bag from the scene of a crime. A CRIME AGAINST BLOODY COOKING. Either that or some sort of back-street underground cookie, purchased off a gun-toting maniac high on his own supply of yeast. You certainly wouldn’t want to be caught carrying one of these through customs. Imagine biting into a piece of brass Richard. That would be softer on the teeth than the specimen above.

I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was relax but obviously I had to sit with that mess in front of me for half an hour. I swear the sponge shafts moved at one point.

Once cleared, I decided to relax with a bit of your world-famous onboard entertainment. I switched it on: [see image 5, below].


I apologize for the quality of the photo, it’s just it was incredibly hard to capture Boris Johnson’s face through the flickering white lines running up and down the screen. Perhaps it would be better on another channel: [see image 6, below].


Is that Ray Liotta? A question I found myself asking over and over again throughout the grueling half-hour I attempted to watch the film like this. After that I switched off. I’d had enough. I was the hungriest I’d been in my adult life and I had a splitting headache from squinting at a crackling screen.

My only option was to simply stare at the seat in front and wait for either food, or sleep. Neither came for an incredibly long time. But when it did it surpassed my wildest expectations: [see image 7, below].


Yes! It’s another crime-scene cookie. Only this time you dunk it in the white stuff.

Richard…. What is that white stuff? It looked like it was going to be yoghurt. It finally dawned on me what it was after staring at it. It was a mixture between the Baaji custard and the Mustard sauce. It reminded me of my first week at university. I had overheard that you could make a drink by mixing vodka and refreshers. I lied to my new friends and told them I’d done it loads of times. When I attempted to make the drink in a big bowl it formed a cheese Richard, a cheese. That cheese looked a lot like your baaji-mustard.

So that was that Richard. I didn’t eat a bloody thing. My only question is: How can you live like this? I can’t imagine what dinner round your house is like, it must be like something out of a nature documentary.

As I said at the start I love your brand, I really do. It’s just a shame such a simple thing could bring it crashing to it’s knees and begging for sustenance.

Yours Sincerely


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February 2009
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