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Look mommy! no hands!

So what do you write when you really don’t feel like writing and the only reason you are doing it is because of that addictive tik-a-tik-a sound your crispy keyboard makes?

I really ought to use full stops in the middle. Sentences. too. long!

Any who, i finally found this book i had been looking for.  The Deeper Meaning of Liff by Douglas Adams and John Lloyd. I used to have it on my book shelf, until one day it mysteriously disappeared.  Then it reappeared 4 years later under a friend’s flower-pot. ‘What the hell Sabeen! you had it all this time!??’

‘Yeh…! Doesn’t it look so pretty in my room?’

No.

Anyway, its back where it belongs, balancing the short leg of my dining table. Balance has been restored to the universe once again!

Hurrah!

The End.

Eid and the new Shalwar

Greetings and Salutations my sugar induced high sweet muslim parrots, and you remaining lot as well.

Eid was celebrated the world round this past weekend which marks the end of Ramzan (or the month of fasting) that seemed to have taught muslims the LEAST of humbleness, humility and MOST of all, patience. Most rash driving, most signals broken, most number of fights, least work done, least productivity all go hand in hand with the month of ramzan, and one can stand and question what the purpose of fasting was. But as one of my friends said, “I dropped down on the number of cigarettes I smoked otherwise” yaaaay a good muslim?

Anyways, thats not what today’s rant is about, NOOoooooo, today’s rant my friends, is about the idiots who helped me spend MOST of my Eid days on the road. Yes thats right, on the road, Sarak CHAAP ki chaap lagadali zalimon ney.

It all starts with the speculation of heavy rain on Eid day, because of which I couldn’t wear my white kurta and had to opt for a dark blue one (bummer). It did rain around fajr time, which proved people’s paranoi was at an all time high, and thus the first day of eid was spent PEACEFULLY with the least amount of traffic on the road AND the least amount of people visiting your place. Just the way one should spend eid, sleeping tandoor wala Style on the bed (for those of you who who’ve NEVER been in this mode, you HAVE lier. Its you wearing a shalwar and banyaan only, jhootay makkar farebi log)

So back to the rant, now that day 1 of eid was spend joyous, that could not be the case for the remaining days could it? No sirree bob no. So now the Entire Karachi who missed out on the Sheer Khorma and Qoftay and Biryani at their inlaws and relatives place just HAD to start visiting people. Fine. But did you ALL have to visit everyone else at the SAME TIME? I mean Karachi suffered the worst traffic jams of its history in the last two days.

Whats so bad about that you ask? Its Karachi and traffic, its always like that you say. Imagine yourself driving off from a friend’s place at 11:30 PM after countless visits that started early afternoon, only to JUST get stuck in the traffic. So I tell myself its ok, this WAS supposed to happen I was mentally prepared. But no, see my brain is an evil genius. So evil it proves to be, that it didn’t ring the “I NEED TO PISS” alarm when I was visiting one of the many people I did, nooooo. But as sooon as I get stuck with about a million cars ahead of me and about the same number behind me, the sirens ring, the alarms sound and the pressure seems to suddenly be at its peak.

PISS ALERT PISS ALERT, YOU NEED TO VISIT THE LOO, DRAIN THAT BLADDER BEFORE IT BURSTS. Thats what my brain tells me. What timing, just perfect, enough audience to not even be thankful of being male enough to be happy with just a wall and an empty road in such an emergency.

So I do what most people would do, I tell my brain to shut up and decide to divert my attention somewhere. Here’s where Malaika Arora comes in. With the news of Salman Khan’s latest release Dabangg breaking box office records of 3 idiots itself, I felt appropriate to tune in the item song of the month “Munni Badnaam hui” and so I did (and ooh the chichoondar is sexy I MUST SAY). So yes, the audio plays, the video reruns in my head and I feel the jolt of shaking a bit to the tune and so I do, I start dancing in the seat of my car. But see my brain cannot be outdone, even by itself, and thus the dancing instantly turns into squirming and the brain reminds me of my emergency situation. Darn it, switched the song to Soulfly’s Babylon. Great fast drum beats and heavy guitars need to be matched by headbanging and hair flying around, NOT by sweat beads breaking onto your forehead with you clenching your fists, clenching your teeth and moving at 1 kmph every 5 to 7 minutes for about 1 to 3 feet on the road. DARN IT.

This called for evasive maneuvers and I put my iPod to the side and picked up the phone to dial a trustee friend, because in the current situation, diversion was of utmost importance. So while the number dials I tell myself, must pick on friend, must…..pick…..on…..friend……neeed….tooo….peeeeeeeee………..

The conversation starts, glides down to how the day was spent, uptil the point where this predicament started. And then the friend is told about the situation I am suffering at the moment. Voila, instead of picking on someone, I become the one being picked on. Constantly being threatened by the friend saying, “awaaz sunaooon woh wali” which meant that certain sound that most mothers use while potty training their children to help the little dudes let er rip.

Now for someone like me, that really should NOT be a problem, I’m strong enough to NOT let err rip at ‘The Sound’, but at that moment of time, I didn’t seem to risk it.

So after over an hour an a half of driving through thick strands of cars on the road, I finally reach home. I run to the loo, doing a panic stricken strip tease on my way to the bathroom, and am on the pot within seconds of arriving home, ready to relieve myself of the pressure. And then it happens. The worst that could. After successfully avoiding any kind of embarrassing accidents and reaching the privacy of the loo on time, I keep sitting there, waiting waiting ………………. still waiting

And then finally peace is again restored and the world seems to be beautiful all over again. So what was the lesson learnt? There should be more McDonalds or KFC outlets around that I could use for such emergencies only cause the food mostly sucks there.

So kids, what did we learn today? Yes, thats right. Try not to cough too hard when you tend to have an upset stomach.

And the Word of the day is: *drumm rolllssssssss…….thishhhhh* ……………… Genyun ………. because nothing is more Genuine than a chinese copy of the same thing! 😀


The (not so) funny thing about guys in the music scene in Karachi is two weird extremes that reside, killing music as it should be.

The first is the little boys / balding men who to this day have one singular motto “guitar bajaoonwa, bachee phansaoonwa”. Some of them have talent, most of them don’t and their playlists show a certain kind of downloading off limewire, which goes to prove that they do have the internet to learn the better ways into music. Yet, their ulterior motive gets the best of them. They will to any suffering end, just die to get on stage for the sole purpose of attracting the babes. From guys who could never be punctual about anything in life, to bands that sing songs like 5 choohay gharsey nikley, their devoted passion is to make a song, record it in a studio, make a music video for the song and dress up for the video, impress babes, and spend the rest of their days attending ‘I love you’ calls from random women, the more the merrier *shudder at the thought*

The second extreme holds within it musicians with the best of skills that have seemingly transcended from the great Michael Angelo himself. Guys who could play guitar properly with both their right AND left hands on the fret board, drummers who could play beats ranging from a simple 4/4 extended to a jazz tone to beats that go into 27/39 at a 500 beats/min tempo. Vocalists that can give Adam Lambert and Miles Kennedy both have a run for their money! And yet, what do they end up playing, Atif Aslam hits. And this kind doesn’t play Atif Aslam to attract babes, no! These people show more interest in a pack of cigarettes of a packet of gutka than a sultry diva willing to give up her everything for them. These guys are the guru’s of…………..nothingness. They dwell in their apartments all day, spends nights on the streets, and earn via recording simple riffs and pieces or entire songs for the category 1 boys.
Somehow Aunty Disco Project or ADP doesn’t seem to fit into either the two categories above, or the one below. Maybe transsexual men in a band don’t have a distinction other then the mentioned for them yet. Such discrimination and racism, tsk, I’m lovin it!

So at least those two live off each other and live their dreams. So where does the grey line lie? Where do the guys that play a mix of where the west has risen to, along with mixing our own roots to bring out experimentation that pleases the heart. Now, since this is something that is very specific, most of the people don’t understand this music and thus hardly listen to it. This brings them to not allow those who have a proper taste/knowledge of what the music should be and where it should drive forth to grow further! What happens to these musicians then? Half of them stay hidden in their jam rooms, doing infrequent jams to quench their thirst for making music, the biggest name amongst them being Coven. The other half however, resorts to playing what the masses want to hear, and thus silently kill themselves inside to be popular and famous in hopes of someday making music that will be accepted and will be theirs (tough luck most of them just never get around making their own songs).
So kids what have we learned today? That OBA needs Marketing lessons in terms of how to brand a band of transsexuals properly!

And thus we get to our word of the day: neegrO (and no this doesn’t have anything to do with music, but rather with how my HR MaNger (This is NOT a spelling mistake, how many times will the guy explain to you all) claims teaching people in a govt. office is like Bath a Negro and think it’ll turn him white! *mutates into a hyena and dies of laughter, resurrects and resumes the laughing until his stomach hurts*

Championing mediocrity is something one has to do to be a cool sheep. We’re all sheep, we really are; deep down inside we’re all the white fluffy baa baa’ers who don’t have brains enough to bring about a revolution. Occasionally there’s a few who stand up with that little black sheep in their hearts, to not go about the norms, to not buy a Honda CD 70, but instead target a Harley Davidson. Most of those black sheep buy a Honda CD 70 after a while of suffering public transport and not having wheels of their own, but no one ever pats their back for trying to pursue their dream. Instead they’re ridiculed by the white sheep for not doing the same thing in the first place.
See…….can you imagine in an imaginary way a white fluffy sheep ridiculing a black sheep? What a world we live in! Its un-natural, and YET its natural!
So whether I be a white sheep, or a black sheep, its more or less all the same altogether! The important thing is to be cool, to wear sunglasses and just “Be Cool!”.

And since we can just can NOT end without a word of the day, here it comes

Word of the Day : *BURPP* (you deserved it, IN YOUR FACE)

Winters and Gajrela

Yes folks, its that time of the year again, when shampoo expense is the least and water savings is at an all time high. eww right, as if you don’t skip 2 days and keep procrastinating the shower until there’s more dandruff on your head than flesh on your butt, burger kahinkey!! Chipkey huay baal !!!

Soo anyway, as I was saying, it was winter till yesterday evening when it suddenly turned too hot to look cool in the expensive jacket invested upon by yours truly which hides the love handles o so perfectly. So I had to dump the I’M HOT image because I didn’t need to fake it anymore, I was sweaty like a suwar.

But then there’s still a bright side to that, carrots 😀 (no bugs bunny impersonations please! I keel you!!) Tis the season of the Gajar ka halwa dammit, and I’ve been craving Gajrela for a week now. If only I’d paid more attention to the blabbering ladis and cookingmen on the Telly I’d have learned to make it myself. But then, watching a Vishal Akrahamak Nar Shair have his way with a deer deep in the forest is still less of a pain to watch than women calling Chef Zakir to almost ask for his hand in marriage. Women these days, they’ll marry anything so they don’t have to cook. Where is the world going to? Why isn’t there any gajrela around? Who are you?

Word of the day: Ketchup (helps eating anything, especially Styrofoam and your nephew’s fingers)

The Mona Lisa So I start a new day with LOADS of sleep, high fever and lots of coughing. I can hardly breathe, my eyes are burning, and I, the being who was born to stuff food into his mouth, am not hungry. The entire day I spent thinking what I could’ve done to deserve this (all over again I might add). And then God showed me a sign, one of those heavenly lights that shine and you find out an instance later that the light at the end of the tunnel is a Shalimaar express that isnt fast enough to kill you on strike and isn’t slow enough for you to dodge and get away without a broken bone. So well, its all about AAJ KI LARKI KA INTEQAAM. I mean think about it, aaj ki larki *shudder*, making love to a cow and hitting on a goat is easier, atleast they don’t wink back or beat the crap out of you, well a cow could but then again someone with slick womanizing skills can get away with it! so if this is the reason behind the viral epidemic widespread in the city, I wonder whats the reason behind the swine flu attack (Anjuman, Meera Jee or the regualr 250 lb white ladies that clutter most american cities?)

now since I heart Meera Jee, she’s out of the list, and the fat white ladis are already being questioned by the FBI and WHO collaboratively regarding the toxic increase in the atmosphere and the disappearance of the Ozone layer. So it has GOT to be Anjuman. It just HAS to be her, somebody go check the dead Pakistani heroes and do a research on their bodily remains. And Since we all know that anything that happens in Pakistan is because of the USA and India (MullaPun intended), thus I swear on my life those South Indian actresses are also involved in this.

So kids, what have we learned from today’s post? thats right, dont pick your nose in public, especially while driving. Cause thats the ONLY time of your life when a hot looking lady is looking directly at you from her expensive car wearing her expensive shades and makeup and the ooo so perfect hair with all the love in her eyes that she JUST lost for you. Gold digging is for private times only.

Word of the day: Anjuman!

Today, i started the day with a beautiful, moist, scrumptious butterscotch brownie. It was magical! more so because i mostly skip breakfast. no! not because im super busy or always in a rush or any of those crap reasons people use to avoid food (such blasphemy!)

but because i somehow cant seem to eat right after i have woken up and since i wake up late most days (yes you can envy me if you like) by the time im ready to eat its mostly time for lunch.  ….dang! i think the sugar- high is dying out and im starting to get cranky again.

ah well! thats all i waned to share anyway. i had brownie for breakfast… and now you know.

(coming up soon, what i had for lunch and how many times i chew each bite. riveting stuff!)