I bob, do you?

mangomama1 — Sat, 02 Jun 2012 14:46:31 +0000

Mini mango I has an Indian head roll. Or head waggle. Or Mumbai roll. Whatever you call it, he’s got it. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s a specific type of head movement in which the shoulders are kept still and the head moves from side to side, like you are trying to touch your ear to your shoulder. Except it’s fast. It’s harder to do than you think. The head waggle is used in the context of, ” uh ,huh, okay, yeah, that’s fine.” but in a completely unenthusiastic way. And with no facial expression. Its kinda Steve Wonder like.

But anyway, you get the idea. So my almost 3 year old has it. It’s no surprise really, given he absorbs and notices EVERYTHING in his environment and he spends time with Indians who do this. I will ask him something like, “Do you want to go outside?”and I will get the head bob. Okay, I will be honest here. I don’t want my son to have the head waggle, although it is pretty funny and adorable when he does it. So when he does this, I say to him, “Show me yes, okay…now show me no.” and he will so awkwardly and slowly nod his head in the affirmative. For no, he’s got that down pat. Like a pro. He is a NO pro at the moment. Anyway, I’m trying to intervene in the head waggle and hope it doesn’t stick. Although even I find myself doing it from time to time. It’s catchy, I guess if you see enough people doing it…

Do you do the head roll? Probably not unless you have lived here for any length of time. But rest assured, almost 1 billion Indians do! See the video below to get a sense of the head bobble.

http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?v=tRwzcnOdNFc

Why not to sleep on a plane

Carin — Wed, 18 May 2011 13:17:02 +0000

I love travelling. Whether for work or play, send me on a plane, a train, in a car! Any vehicle that takes me out of real life routine for a snapshot in time will do.

Planes are of course, my favourite. I enjoy every bit of the commute from the adrenaline- fuelled 11th hour packing to the airport security checks (made better in summer when you can wear flip flops insead of the extra added pressure of making sure your socks are whole and matched). I enjoy wheeling my little suitcase around Heathrow Terminal 5, from Ted Baker all the way to Paul Smith. I routinely walk that strip and then loop back on myself, dool over the beautiful, beautiful make up – the end of which is opposite Starbucks. Grande coffee of the day and a rise-and-shine muffin if I’m peckish. I love Terminal 5. You can imagine my horror when I found out this morning that I was flying to Lisbon on BA from Terminal 3. TERMINAL THREE!! it sucks so bad! I should have known it wasn’t going to be the ‘me time’ my plane time usually is.

I especially love plane time. It’s the time that you are completely uncontactable for as long as it takes to get from point normal to point unknown. I am one of those travellers who falls asleep before take off and wakes up on time for the drinks trolley (“coffee and a spiced tomato juice please. Oh, and also a glass of water if that’s okay?”) (Three drinks?! The nerve!)

Two out of three drinks! The nerve!

Once I’m awake, drinking all my drinks, then begins the golden, uninterrupted reading time. First John Simpson’s column in the BA magazine, then whatever I felt like reading pre-flight: an indulgent glossy mag, or a novel, or the Economist if I am feeling insecure about being inappropriately dressed for Business Class (damn those easy flip flops).

Today, I was going to use the time to get stuck into Tom Wolfe’s ‘”Bonfire of the Vanities”. One I’ve been wanting to read ever since devouring “The Right Stuff”. I have heard from two sources that the book is awesome if you can get past the second chapter. Perfect use of time for a short-haul flight.

I had just made it through the prologue, when out the corner of my eye, amid the first distraction of the loudest prawn mayo cellophane wrappers you’ve ever heard, the head of the dude next to me kept appearing very suddenly into my periphery. This happened in regular intervals. It dawned on me that he was in that first sleep phase where the muscles in your neck give up and cause your head to flop forward before some trigger in your brain snaps it back to the upright position. I gave up on Tom, and watched Sleeping Noddy until I got the giggles.

SN’s neck finally stayed in the downward chin position for long enough for me to start Chapter 1, “The Master of the Universe”.

Good look

Snoring! He started snoring! But, like, snoring where people three rows away turned around to see who let the rhino on the plane. As you can see by my photos, this dude is not a big, loud, snorey looking man. (My sneaky pic has caught him at a particularly unflattering angle). He’s a Kiwi. He is wearing Livestrong Oakleys so he works out so as not to let his little beer belly get to the point that when you sleep it sounds like you are choking on phlegm!

I gave up on reading. I decided to use my plane time to blog about Sleeping Noddy who is next to me, head rolling around like it’s perched on a ball socket with sounds coming out of him that would rival my my dad (who had sleep apnea). I would love for the sleeping man directly behind Noddy to dream that he is falling off a cliff, kick Noddy’s chair who will wake up with a fright and startle the snoozing dude next to him. That would be cool.

Okay, blog done, and not enough time left of this flight to get stuck in to Chapter 2. I kind of wish I could use what is left of my plane time to catch 40 winks myself, but my luck, the starers will think that the snoring is me, or worse, someone will blog about me and take photos…!

A Difficult Class to Play

Cheezburger Network — Tue, 16 Nov 2010 19:12:50 +0000

Submitted by: Unknown

Be sure to check out the damage meter at the end…

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I bob, do you?

Why not to sleep on a plane

A Difficult Class to Play