baghairtaa! kootayy!

The other day I had to go out to TCS some university stuff to Karachi. I usually like getting out of the house during exam season, it's refreshing, a change of scenario. But I had gotten pretty annoyed by the time I got back home. Why?


Because of the STARING.


I just don't get it. It's like they've never seen women before. Kaminay.


Khair, that's not the point here. I can swear at them for the next five days and still not run out of curse-words.


Point is, my mom was with me. She was, as usual, bohat pissed at the starers. But this time I nearly bust out laughing when she started grumbling, because I was reminded of this:


WATCH IT. NOW.

AAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH


Just IMAGINE my situation. I was in the middle of a public marketplace, and my mind was repeatedly being assaulted by images of my mother verbally abusing those bastards, calling them 'KOO-TAYY', right there in public.


Matlab ke, UFFFFF :D :D :D


It was taking every bit of my self-control not to start laughing like a hyena right there. Which would, of course, not do much for the staring problem. I had a weird, contorted smirk on my face all the way to the car.


Maza aya.




P.S. The video is by Naked Tyrant Productions. These guys are hilarious. 
Show some love, go like their Facebook page!

what iz the scene?

I had my statistics final today. It went kinda weird. Dunno, can't say. But I think I'll be spending these vacations praying that the percentile is lowered this year.


:O


Since I feel like I must do something to alleviate this strange ohfuckthisihouldhavestudied feeling, I am going to play one of my favourite songs and sing along to it.   


P.S. I highly recommend this excellent song as a cure-all for feelings of depression, anxiety, hyperness, over-excitement, lovey-dovey-ness and every other feeling imaginable.

Here are the lyrics for your convenience:

Mojambo

What is the TAM

Hun budday ho gay BULLAY LUTT

Come on and Bumbu Jam

Mojambooooo

What is the scene

Mojambo

How are you

Bachee teree nuss gaee

O war gaee tathay khoo

Mojambooooo

What is the scene

Mojambo

What is in your DABBA

Saree ratee khajjal hoya

Fir vee kuj nahin labba

Mojamboooo

What is the scene

Mojambo

Sprite Miranda Teem

Shauki billa Kithay oye

You are so Azeem

Mojambo

What the HUCK

Uttay kee wekhda renhna ain

THALLAY vee tay tak

Mojamboooo

What is the scene

WHAT IS THE SCENE

Ah. Nothing like good music.

Punishment.

When I was little the teachers used to punish the girls by making them sit next to the boys.

Strange.

kuttay ka baccha.

I have a mermaid. It has pink hair and blue eyes, and a mouth that is in a perpetual pucker.

It stares at me all the time, even when I don't want it to.

I also have a headless skeleton. It glows in the dark. 

My best friend from seventh grade gave it to me. 

It used to have a head then though. I wonder where it went, the head.

My brother and I named it Pilla.

weddings and why I hate them.

You know what I hate about weddings?

Um, let me rephrase that. You know what I don't hate about weddings?

Well, probably just the fact that it's a happy occasion and everyone gets free food. Which isn't free, not really. Ask your mum how much money she has given to brides as salaamiyan over the years.

The thing is, weddings are so damn pointless. What's the point? I mean, if you have to get married, absolutely have to have to get married, then why make such a big deal out of it? YAY you're getting married. More than half the people there don't even give a shit, they're just there for the food! That's why I go anyway.


In  fact, I'm so pissed at weddings right now, I'm gonna make a list. Because lists are awesome.

This one's going to be called:

'Why I Hate Weddings In Pakistan, Well Not Hate Really But Why Weddings Here Piss Me Off'.

Wow. I really need to work on naming these lists.

Anyhow.

Yeah, so:


1. The unnecessary displays of opulence. 
So who cares if HSY designed your wedding ka jora? Who cares? Fine, Shweety Aunty will tell a few friends of hers at one of her kitty parties, and then what'll happen to your too-expensive dress is, it'll find it's way into the back of your closet and never be heard of again, except maybe on your husband's little brother's wedding (and that too if you're still a nayee dulhan. Read: You're not more than a year into your marriage and have not gone weird and fat. Yet.)

Also, the venue is of immense importance. People are willing to pay a shitload of money just so they can acquire the most expensive hotel's most expensive hall for a few hours. Just so they can tell (and show) 'people' where they got married.

PLUS. The food. Now I don't have many issues with this particular aspect of the unnecessary displays of opulence, but you'll call me a hypocrite if I say I don't, so yeah. WTF wedding people. Give all that food to poor little starving children like me instead of feeding it to rich people who couldn't care less.

2. The various aunties.
Yeah, aunties. I no like.
First there's the sort who're there looking for a rishta for their son. These are possibly the worst kind of aunties you can hope to meet at a wedding. They'll look you up and down and up again until you begin to feel extremely uncomfortable. Then they'll give you a soppy smile and pat you lovingly on the cheek and give you one last good stare before they let you go. Matlab, WTF aunty? Go contact a matrimonial service or something.

THEN there's the aunty (well they can be younger females too but whut.) who's attending the wedding only to show off her expensive jora. Her face is so caked up with make up (Lulz :O) that she can't even smile or talk, all she does is stare at you with her over-kohled eyes and sniff arrogantly at you when you come sit next to her with a plate with an inappropriate amount of gulab jamuns in it. She spends most of the function taking pictures of herself so she can later put them up on Facebook and get frandship requests.

3. There's nothing to do.
Another thing about weddings is that there's nothing to do. Poondi won't last you through the whole thing. And teaching random kids swear words gets boring after a while. And you can only laugh uproariously at the people who're dancing for so long
All I end up doing is waiting for the food. And then eating it. Foooood.

Oh YUM.

4. The inconvenience.
Seriously, why must you have your wedding in the middle of May when you know that it's exam season? And then they expect you to  lug your ass all the way to Lahore, hmph.
That wasn't really relevant. But what the hell.

Yeah, so, weddings? Not my piece of cake.

Or maybe I'm just in an anti-wedding mood right now.

Bah, humbug.

There were dragons in the sky.

Dragons with long flowing tails and eyes like diamonds, dragons with fire on their lips and Chinese names that sounded beautiful.

I wished one would swoop down and take me up, up where I could hear the stars sing.

I stared at them for a long time, sending them telepathic messages that they didn't receive.

Instead, they just hung there, hung there like dreams.

And slowly, they floated away.

Wisp by wisp.

Feet.

I have a confession to make. I hope all four of you are listening closely, because I've been mustering up the courage to say this for a long time.

So. Here it is.

I have big feet.

What, you didn't hear me? Okay then >:|

I HAVE BIG FEET! 

I HAVE HUGE FEET! 

I HAVE GINORMOUS FEET! 

Yeah, I said it! I am, ladies and gentlemen, a girl with big feet. Sadface.

Hahahahahahhaha. That is the Bigfoot from A Goofy Movie, which is possibly my favorite movie of all time.

Anyhow, back to the tragic tale of my titanic toes (okay, feet, but... the alliteration!)

I've always had big feet. Well obviously, I didn't inject growth hormones into them when I turned fourteen 

Buying shoes for school used to be a huge problem. By the time I was eight, my shoe size had climbed it's way into the women's sizes, and was on it's way out. By age thirteen, most of the shoes they had in shoe stores didn't fit me. 

I started hating shoe manufacturers in Pakistan. Why the HUCK did they make shoes this small? Did they think the population comprised of Lilliputians? Did they think we were bloody ancient Japanese? Did they not understand my plight? Were people with slightly larger feet than usual supposed to go bury themselves in dirty diapers?

'Twas a sad, sad time indeed.

A typical conversation at a back-to-school shopping trip would go like this:

Mother: Give us the BIGGEST pair of socks you can find.

Me: *incoherent grumble*

Perplexed Shopkeeper: Who do you want it for?

Mother: For my daughter here..

Me: OH crap >:(

...

Everyone in the shop, including shopkeepers and customers, start staring like morons at my feet. I stare defiantly back, and I feel like shoving my awesome big feet up their asses.

Again. How very, very sad.

Sadface.

I was so sick of being shoeless in Seattle that I used to think up evil schemes which involved me being filthy rich some day and owning a shoe company bigger than Jimmy Choo. My shoes'd be awesome okay. So awesome, in fact, that women would totally be ready to murder each other for a pair.

BUT WAIT! ZERE IZ A TWIST IN THE STOREH!

THE SIZES. THEY'D ALL BE OVER TEN! MY SIZE! AND ABOVE! I'D MAKE B IG FOOTED WOMEN ALL OVER THE WORLD HAPPY! AND THEN METRO AND STYLO COULD SUCK IT.

I had a dream, too.

Yeah. I may still do something about it, but probably not. My relatives abroad are nice enough to help their third-world cousin in distress, so I receive a bunch of shoes every year. And I wear them, cus I really have no other choice. Well I do, but I don't really want to spend the rest of my life wearing ugly mardana slippers, not me.

OKAY I JUST HAD A SUDDEN MENTAL IMAGE OF ME WEARING THESE ON MY WEDDING

AAAAH! WHAT FUGLINESS! NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!

motionless upon the air

You loved to sing. Often, when I went visiting, I could hear you, your clear beautiful voice soaring, sometimes sad and mournful, sometimes wildly, wildly happy. I loved to just stand outside for a while before I went in, to just stand and soak in that voice, the one that sounded like liquid sunshine, the one that sounded like tears. When I went in you never looked offended, never made me feel like I was interrupting something that you held close, almost sacred. I loved those long summer afternoons, endlessly stretching into the night, those afternoons warm and musical and bittersweet.

Time is relative, they say. And it is. That time passed by so quick, so quickly, it was like a dream that I later looked back on. It was gone before I even realized it was there, gone before I could appreciate its presence. And when I finally reached out and tried to grab it, it slipped through my fingers like the finest of gossamer threads, and my hands clutched at nothing.

WHATTEYYYYY SHIT.

Okay so yesterday (or was it the day before O.o) I FINALLY posted after a looong time. It was random shit, a longass, rambling random shitty post but it was MY longass rambling random shitty post AND IT DISAPPEARED. IT FLIPPING DISAPPEARED AND I AM SO PISSED.

I MEAN WTF BLOGGER. WTF.

*deep breath*

Anyway.

And I will wait for you

Until the sky is blue

And I will wait for you

What else can I do?

These bloody exams. ;___;

I feel mopey. ;___;

No one gives a shit. ;___;