huda kazi in the big city

Is it a good or a bad thing if your colleagues salute you as you leave work for the day?

The footage from President Bush’s appearance at Kansas State University today was running (complete with surround-sound audio!) while we ate lunch today. I’m feeling more than a bit queasy at the moment, but I don’t know whether to blame my ongoing gastro-intestinal complications, the gross imposition of the Bush doctrine during a key portion of the digestive process, or the fact that I temporarily lost my mind and got my lunch from Taco Bell today.

(Yes, the same Taco Bell with the plumbing problems. Note to Ken and Ivan: I’m invoking the McDonald’s clause to let you know this must never, ever happen again, even if you have to resort to druggings or random trips into Waldenbooks.)

I was in India when the illegal wiretapping allegations first made the news, so I don’t know how much of a stir they caused then. The story made the front page of The Times of India, but then so did the New York City transit worker strike. I would like to see it make more of a stir now because the stir should never have died down because…. illegal wiretapping, people. Even worse is the explanation that Congress had authorized “whatever it takes,” that the president has carte blanche to do whatever he pleases, and civil liberties be damned.

It seems to me these allegations violate everything this country stands for, the very essence of the freedoms and liberties we are supposed to promote, and as such, every American, young and old, Republican and Democrat, should be up in arms about it. Of course, if everyone thought like me, W. wouldn’t have come within spitting distance of a second term.

I just wonder if the people who this afternoon publicly thanked the President for “making the country safer” (whether he actually has is an argument for another time) would be so enthusiastic about it if the lens were being pointed at them.

(I don’t want to hear ONE WORD about the kind of world I must be living in if this is the saddest news of my day.)

Yesterday Ivan told us today would be Tuba Christmas day here at work, and we greeted that news with our usual mix of enthusiasm and despair.

But then we arrived at work today to discover that Ivan had either blatantly lied to us or had been quite mistaken because the tubas, they are not here. Ken did some speedy Googling to discover the awful truth: Tuba Christmas has MOVED.

Yes, we were quite shocked and traumatized as well.

The Underground now plays host to Tuba Christmas, which means it’s now an outdoor concert. In today’s 37 degree weather (which, admittedly, is far warmer than many places, like, say, Chicago, and of course Madison, Wisconsin), I am curious as to just how many of the usual concert-goers, with their candy-cane-bedazzled sweaters and singing Christmas tree sweatshirts, are going to sit through the entire show.

We could go ourselves (the Underground is a short hop, skip, and jump away), but we’re too busy cheering the silence and bemoaning the loss of a tradition. Our poor New People, who will never get to experience to joy and horror of a hundred shiny tubas piled in the atrium while their owners stand in line for fast food, who will never be serenaded by the same hundred tubas playing “Jingle Bells” as they try to work. It is almost too sad for words.

For now, though, I have to go console Ivan, who is sitting in the corner crying because Ken ruined his Christmas.

I don’t normally talk about work on this site because that would be breaking one of the cardinal rules of blogging, and not getting dooced is always high on my annual to-do list.

But today is launch day, and for this project, on which I’ve worked for the better part of a year, for which I have of late given up my nights and weekends, my dinner parties, movie viewings, and other such shindigs, I’m going to make an exception. The product may not be perfect, but there’s still something so exhilarating about actually going live, in public, where the entire Internet can see it, that I want to say in all capital letters, LOOK WHAT I DID. Me and about a hundred other people, anyway.

Around lunchtime I took a semi-enforced break from post-launch issues to do a recruitment video. They sent me through makeup, and then I answered questions very badly for twenty minutes, pretty much guaranteeing that 99.9 percent of my footage will end up on the cutting room floor. The makeup lady was super-friendly, though, and she did the best “daytime” makeup that I’ve ever had; it’s light and barely noticeable, so I look like I don’t need Maybelline ’cause I’m just born with it.

I wanted to go shopping on the way home because I need a few things before we leave for India and because I just wanted to, but I ended up leaving work a little later than expected, which meant I’d miss maghrib and get stuck in horrible rainy-day rush-hour traffic if I went… so tomorrow, maybe. I should probably get some sleep tonight anyway, considering I woke up half a dozen times last night, worried that I’d overslept and was late for work, and for the launch.

Updated: They like us! They really like us!

Long time, no post. Well, except for the one I deleted because I felt like it. (More on that in a moment.) It’s just that not much has happened, exactly, but I do have a few quick items for you:

Let’s start with the Saddest, Most Pathetic Thing EVER: At lunch today, Ken was talking about an anniversary party he went to this weekend, and how he was asking the couple questions about each other, a la the Newlywed Game

Ken: I learned pretty quickly not to ask her anything.
Huda: …because she had all the answers?
Ken: YES! She knew everything! I think she bought his clothes for him too because I asked her how tall he was and she didn’t even have to guess.
Huda: Well, the women typically do have all the answers. Did he know things about her?
Ivan: He probably did.
Huda: Do you know your wife’s sizes?
Ivan: I don’t even know my own pants size!
Ken and Huda: …
Ken and Huda: (snickering madly)
Ivan: She buys my clothes!
Ken: When was the last time you knew your pants size?
Ivan: …1993?

And move on to the whiniest thing ever: The amazing getupgrrl over at is taking some “maternity leave” from blogging now that Gefilte has finally arrived, partly to enjoy spending time with him, and partly because it’s not a house of miscarriage anymore. She may be back, or she may not; she hasn’t decided yet.The surprising part of this decision is how many people feel personally insulted that she’s decided to take down her archives to protect them from being reprinted without her permission or byline, as they have in the past.I didn’t realize it was selfish to do what you please with your own property. Thank goodness there are people around in cyberspace to educate me.

Wrapping up with… something a little different: I finally caved and hired a maid service to come out on Thursday afternoon — before all the weekend guests arrive, one in particular — but I am not sure if I have a confirmed appointment. I perused dozens of Web sites and interviewed several companies. One of them I really liked but they were quoting me as much as $400 for the initial cleaning. A second one I didn’t like at all, and a third I liked very much, services and cost both. It’s the third one that I ended up choosing; they were supposed to call this week to confirm the Thursday appointment, but I haven’t heard anything yet. If they flake out, life as I know it will be over. My place is not remotely clean, and there’s no way I’m going to be able to bring it up to scratch in the short amount of time I have left.I am about two hours away from devolving into rabid project manager mode and sending a short, polite email requesting a meeting or conference call.I think that may be a sign that I need a vacation.

You’ll never guess what I did today.

I went to a rally (you might even call it a pep rally) at Centennial Olympic Park to support the bid to get the NASCAR Hall of Fame built in Atlanta instead of Charlotte.

Yes, yes, I did. It was not by choice, but I did go.

	Tony Stewart’s Home Depot car from last fall’s race week NASCAR promotional thing

I have no pictures (of this event) for you because my camera is at home and Ken’s camera mysteriously disappeared. Perhaps it was hiding from all the revving engines. Atlanta mayor Shirley Franklin was there, and some NASCAR drivers, and a couple of cars. I recognized Tony Stewart’s (he drives the Home Depot car, and yes, I know some truly valuable piece of information had to be deleted from my brain for me to know that, but I didn’t want to know it!), and Ivan pointed out Kyle Petty’s trailer.

There were lots of checkered flags, and cheering, and NASCAR trivia. I dared Ken to go running through the Olympic fountain, but he wouldn’t do it… something about not wanting to go back to the office dripping wet. Ivan led Ken off to stalk some of the drivers while I hid behind Pete and looked at the cars because they’re actually quite fun.

Last fall, before the season started, NASCAR brought several of the cars and drivers around for a “fan fest” type of thing, and we went because Ivan wanted to and Ken and I didn’t have the heart to say no. I actually took pictures then to show y’all, but that post never actually wrote itself. I’ll update this post later tonight with a link if you want to see them.

I think NASCAR will make the official announcement sometime next month, so until then we’re all sitting around waiting with baited breath to see if we lose out to Charlotte.

I wonder if it would have helped if I’d worn my NASCAR hat.

Ken: Have you ever met anyone who said they were going to college to get married? Because this girl I met yesterday, I asked her, so what are you going to focus on in law school, and she said, I’m looking for a husband.

Huda: Well, I’ve never met anyone who actually admitted to it, but yeah, I think there were several people at Tech who were in it for their MRS degree. You could always tell which ones—

Ken: What’s an MRS degree?

Huda: (dumbfounded) Ivan, please tell Ken what the MRS degree is.

Ivan: …

Ken: Muscular… retraction… disorder…?

Ivan: Mechanical regeneration doctorate?

Huda: M-R-S! M-R-S!

Ken and Ivan: We don’t know!

Huda: (semi-hysterical) Spell it out! M-R-S!

Ken: Well, it has to have something to do with marriage… Mars?

Huda: (finally breaking down) Mrs! It’s the Mrs. degree! M-R-S for Mrs!

Ivan: What?

Huda: I give up.

Fair warning to everyone, especially those named “Ken” and “Ivan,” that I am particularly foul mood this morning as a result of a series of unfortunate events last night and an oh-so-lovely start-the-day message today. Why do people feel compelled to send such notes first thing in the morning so they can rankle all day?

Not even my fabulous new pants are enough to make me feel better. That’s when you know it’s bad, people.

Back in December, my DVD player choked on my Gilmore Girls disc, thereby rendering itself useless as anything other than a space-filler in my entertainment center. Today, I finally did something about it. Or rather, Ken and Ivan did.

It began with the Great Screwdriver Hunt because of course I’d brought in the DVD player but no tools, naturally expecting my coworkers to pry the lid off with their bare hands. Luckily, Ivan keeps a screwdriver in his desk. Even more luckily, Rajul keeps an entire tool set in his desk. And even more luckily, we have a lab upstairs for stripping cables and the like, and it’s practically Home Depot up there!

Once we had the proper tools, Ken took off the casing protecting the circuitry inside the player. Before the two of us could blink, though, Ivan’s inner engineer took over, and he was sitting on the floor taking all the pieces apart. Ken helped by redirecting the desk lamp so we could all pretend Ivan was being interrogated. I helped by sitting on a chair and watching.

Eventually, he got to the part that held the disc, and we managed to slide the disc out. Having watched the deconstruction process, I was ready to toss the player because it seemed broken beyond repair, but Ivan still had hope. Or delusions, depending on how you look at it. He insisted on putting it back together to the point where we could see if it would work. He did. It didn’t. The tray would open but not close unless we manually pushed it, and then it made a horrible scraping noise that sounded like a dying robot from AI.

We still had to do some talking to convince Ivan to give up, but really, nobody who heard that machine “operate” would have thought there was any hope of salvaging it. So, for all of you who have been waiting with bated breath to hear the end of the DVD player saga: I got my disc (thanks, Ken and Ivan!), but I’m in the market for a new player.

And that someody would be Ivan, who this morning STOLE FROM HIS CHILD to pay his MARTA fare.