In the realm of boys and food...

There are three ways to overcome homesicknesses and depressing weather: MSN, good food and good company.

In my desperate bid to make more deep meaningful friendship with girls and to eat reheated food, I have missed out on meeting up with my guyfriends. And gosh...it feels so good to be able to just chill out with them over non-dining hall related food and get a testosterone perspective about how in Ralph Lauren is, how much carbs is in cakes and why we think Russel Peters is the man.

Plus hardly any girls have seen Russel Peters so I look kinda stupid saying, "BE A MAN! DO THE RIGHT THING" loudly in an Indian restaurant.

But yeah, who ever said meaningful friendship can only be cultivated between people of the same gender is seriously missing out. Sometimes, its just so much easier to hang out with guys, in an obviously plantonic way. We can have a complete debate on this for days, but in a nutshell and from a completely skewed female perspective, guys don't demand that much from a friendship.
1) You don't need to feel as if you have to share your entire history with each other before you can hang out.
2) You don't feel as if you are somewhere on one of the ranks of his "friendship" leader because to them people just come in two catergories: people i hang out with and people i don't.
3) You can sit there and talk about completely inane things for hours and not feel the need to have meaningful conversation.
4) When you ask for a pragmatic advice, you get it.
5) There just seems to be more topics to talk about - from politics to religion to what a fan we were of the spice girls.
6) You can diss them jokingly, and you know they won't take it to heart.

And finally, they just don't judge you. Or if they do, as much.

Like I'm always so amazed at how Ed and I talk, especially since we just kinda bump into each other at transfer dinner. Wednesday night over cocktail, beer and Jack & Coke, we managed to encompass the existence of life, of death, the meaning of religion and the relationship between God and men into our tiny corner in the cyber-unreal lounge,POD, filled with trance music and MBA students. Then we got ditzy and started going crazy over chairs that light up when you sit on them, walls that change colours when you press a button, the most futuristic multi-colour toilet we've ever seen that changes colour when someone is in it, and why this place looks like a space ship.

Ed: On your deathbed, you are not gonna look back and think, damm that kid didn't really like me in college. Man I feel like shit.

Thursday lunch and I finally found Mekong-worthy Vietnamese food at 43rd street with Ry and Di. Five words: Broken rice with charboiled pork. It has been so long. I nearly cried.

We spent the rest of the irritatingly drizzle-plagued afternoon wandering around South street, walking into "interesting" shops and searching for the Italian market. We found better. One word: Cake. I think it's called English Rose Cake Shop and it's frenchness came complete with lace curtains, rosebud printed seats, old-school kitchen and actual teapots. I have not tasted chocolate raspberry cake and lime key pie for so long. We washed down those sins and our fluid ever-interesting conversations about the realm of business and how we feel so pressured to get a summer internship with chai tea. And then we found mould on the raspberries.

Me: I think there is mould on the cake.
Cake shop woman: Are you sure? Maybe its chocolate.
Me: Chocolate isn't furry.

Friday again and my craving for Indian food striked. So Mic and I got into Tandoor, a $5.95 ALL you can eat Indian buffet with a 10% student discount. Oh and free flow soda. We could bearly move after we ate. I don't know the actual names of the dishes, but the spinach and cottage cheese was excellent with the naan. And the balsamti rice and potato curry and curried vegetables was such a heavenly combination. Top it off with lassi and it would have been perfect. The conversation was just beautiful, about P Kang's sermon, the contradictions of sex education in America and why the hell are we in university.

So deep are the relationships to nurture but so little time.