Of The Earth Hour (Again)

Yesterday I thought to check Twitter. I was bored, and the only source of entertainment left to me was checking to see if anyone had posted anything decent (that I could use to strike up a conversation with) on Twitter. Instead I came across this:

You know what was the most annoying bit? My area was suffering from an unscheduled black-out. I had a ton of work to complete and these dicks shut off the power. Naturally I felt like giving them a piece of my mind.

After my snide comment I checked to see if I was the only idiot who decided to pick a fight with KESC on a public forum.

Thankfully, there was another guy with larger accusations. They’ll definitely ignore me.

OMG! Celebrity Reply! Don’t you just love when someone famous notices you and points you out? Were it David Tennant, or Matt Smith, or BBC, or even Steven Moffat I would be fangirl-ing so hard right now! Yet, it’s KESC! Makes me glad I have some form of anonymity on Twitter…

Oh well, as Genghis Khan would say, “Onwards, Baby!”

Muwahahahaha! They fell into my clever trap. So clever that I need to figure out what the hell it is supposed to be.

Time to play around with their words.

Sure, and my blog received the Lionel Gelber Prize.

When all else fails, pretend you are GEO (FOX to you non-Pakistani’s) and screw around with the facts

Oh yes! I was waiting for this!

KE’s response could also be the response to the world’s oldest question: Why did the chicken cross the road

Now for some Monty Python based logic.

In all my years pissing people off, I have learnt one important thing. When your opponent loses his grasp on language, you’ve pretty much both pissed him off, and won the argument. Anyone who says otherwise is a sore loser.

I admit that a little bit of me died when I started writing like an illiterate baboon. I do hope that someone at KESC learnt a valuable lesson and would never promote the moronic concept of Earth Hour in a country where the average citizen doesn’t get uninterrupted power for one whole day.

Until Next time!

Of My First Time

I really don't get why more people don't write about their first times. Seriously I'd love to read some of your first times. The thrill, excitement and the tiny bit of hesitation that runs rampant through your mind makes it so delicious to live through. I mean, don't you wish you could relive it again? I know sometimes it can be less than ideal. But hey! It's a milestone in your life.

That's basically why I thought that I'd share mine with you.

(Sorry, I accidentally hit the publish button instead of the save draft button this should be updated in an hour or so check back again then)

It basically happened in late 2006. I had recently quit pursuing my BBA due to reasons which keep getting mentioned on this blog. First job stress and all was pretty much ruling my life. It was a time of change in my life.

One fine day I was basically lounging around at home and suddenly my phone rang. It was a friend from my school days. She asked me to turn onto a specific channel.

Since I didn't remember which number said channel appeared on, I started surfing.

Randomly or maybe it was fate that I stopped on this weird channel showing some really weird monsters. (Be patient I'm getting to the juicy bits)

Now being a fan of crappy sci-fi effects I stopped. Screw whatever channel I was supposed to check out, I'll find out what this is.

Now before I continue, how many of you have seen Knight Rider, MacGuyver or The A-Team. They had good stories, even if their effects were lacking. You didn't need CGI Dragons or fancy effects just to make people love the show. It was all about the story progression. It's watching a car drive itself, a man solve a problem just through observation or even four guys use a scrapyard to make the most amazing contraption to get out of their latest predicament.

Back to the story.

Turns out this blonde woman said something to these nasty monsters, and they are laughing at her.

And this guy is using an HP Ipaq to translate what the monsters are saying. I say to myself, "This is interesting, let's see what happens next"

Then all logic goes out of the window and they start speaking in English! The blonde woman is standing in front of a blue telephone booth. It sticks out like a sore thumb in the otherwise rocky organic set. And the box opens and this guy steps out in his PJs and bathrobe. This is getting stupid.

Apparently this guy is the comic relief or something, because the tense atmosphere just vanished. I have half a mind of changing the channel, but I don't. He explains his absence as him needing tea. This is definitely a British show, or they are trying to be British. And he keeps talking. And makes fun of the monster.

So, he's smart, and somehow, the story progresses to them sword fighting. For the fate of the Earth from what I've gathered.

Turns out, what I thought was supposed to be an underground alien planet or something is floating above a city. Then the weird alien chops off funny guy's hand! What the hell! I was beginning to like funny guy. 

And he grows it back! What the fuck is happening?!? 

The new hand lets him defeat the monster and win. This did not make any sense to me. As if the people who made the show were reading my thoughts, the story turned more absurd. In the bathrobe is an orange for some reason. While the blonde and funny guy discuss why there is an orange in the pocket, the monster, who admitted his defeat tries to stab funny guy in the back. Funny guy takes throws the orange and the floor gives way under the bad guy and he falls.

Ohhhh.. so it's a floating spaceship!

And they killed it. The humans killed it! 

All in all, it was a fun half of a show.

So there you have it. The first time I ever saw Doctor Who. Anyone who thought this post was about something else, get your mind out of the gutter (albeit I was the one who put it there for you in the first place – your punishment for being gullible; a comment)

A few months later, I found out what that show was called. And ever since then, I've been a fan.

For anyone who thinks it's just another nerdy show aimed at kids and losers - and I have come across the type - this isn't just a show, it's a culture, rich in lore and brilliant story telling. And 50 years and running, this show has to be something good for that to happen.

If you're into good stories and plot twists, this is worth watching. Sure you won't be able to catch up from the very first episode back in 1963. But starting from the 2005 series is a good bet. You won't be missing out on much.

Of Knowing When To Shut Up

I do not know when to shut up.

The above picture pretty much sums up my life so far. I have the uncanny ability to say the worst thing at the worst time. Murphy would be so proud of me.

I know that in my last post I said that I’d tell you what Thermopole meant. Well, now I am going to do just that.

See, the story of “Thermopole” is intimately linked with the topic at hand.

Fine, there were more than 6, but they all looked the same to me.

So anyways, this guy got implicated in a hooting situation. News spread and our Boss (a faculty member – actually the only faculty member involved in the event) decided to rip them a new one. Or at least have them expelled.

Now, the three people who were circumstantially present when said hooting took place might have been innocent, might not have been, we don’t know. All we (me and a friend of mine) know is that we were sitting down trying to catch a nap and suddenly this flock of school girls pass us; a wolf whistle is heard; we see three guys laughing in the general vicinity of where the whistle came from (there were four more sitting quietly).

What we do know is that for people who claimed to be innocent, they were screaming bloody murder. And if that wasn’t enough, they had this notion that just because they prefer to waste time in pointless tharkee-pan (Model United Nations) we don’t respect them.

Well, we don’t but that is a different story.

So we all locked ourselves in a room and decided their fate. Boss-man went Super Saiyan on those three.

So for twenty minutes those three took turns to state their case on how they were innocent. It was like looking at a retarded table-tennis match. That is until one guy said this.

To which, I instinctively replied:

A PAEDOPHILE

Now, I don’t know what this guy was thinking while making this point, but he just handed me a golden opportunity on a silver platter.

My boss lost his shit. I was told to apologise to them for saying something so demeaning (which I happily did since apologising is not equal to turning back time)

As soon as the meeting was over, and the boss decided that due to incomplete evidence, we couldn’t persecute them, we all went out for some fresh air.

It was then that a couple of juniors (who were in the meeting) came up to me and the following conversation took place:

Junior 1: “What was that word you said back in the meeting?”

Me: “Which word?”

Junior 2: “Thermopole!”

Me: “Whaaa??”

Junior 1: “You called those three people thermopole and then they got really angry”

*Facepalm*

 

Now those three in question were standing 10 feet away from me, facing me, still screaming about what our Boss is going to do about the two people who dared to soil their pure souls with wild accusations (namely me and a friend of mine)

And I lost my shit. I literally dropped on the floor laughing.

Those juniors of mine, made the word viral. A couple of days later, I heard two guys arguing, and one told the other

“Go ahead and call me anything you like. Call me a motherfucker, a sisterfucker, but don’t you dare call me a thermopole. I won’t stand for that shit”

I look around and I see Steve storming away from the scene. I was happy.

Now, a week after the event, I got promoted to the President of the Event Managing Society. My boss’s reason for doing so?

“We need more smartasses like you who can get the job done”

Of An Annual Event

So, as most of you who’ve been reading this blog religiously (or those who are forced to read it) know, there is this event in my university that is held yearly. The event (henceforth referred to as “the event” for anonymity’s sake) is a time for us to skip classes and work our ass off in order to promote our university’s public perception in the eyes of the world.

Apparently some people didn’t get the memo this year, and this leads me to write a post that can be used as a reminder to future generations how The Event ‘13 failed miserably.

Okay, it didn’t really fail, but Murphy kept shoving his Law in our faces every day we prepared for it.

Now usually, as anyone in my university can attest to, I spend a week before the event making some insane monstrosity that renders me incapable of lending people a helping hand, and makes me a right terror to be near.

Two Years ago, I made the logo out of paper. Sadly I didn’t take into account the overall tension the model would be facing before I hung it from the ceiling of the marquee.

Each ring had an initial diameter of over 6 feet. Then it sagged and well, I’ll spare you guys the gross analogies some people came up with to explain it’s metamorphosis

Last Year, I made our mascot out of Styrofoam (henceforth called “Thermopole” – you’ll see why in a thousand words or so)

A relief model made in two layers, with liberal amounts of glue, tape and paint on all surfaces. I found it funny how considering most of us are engineers in training never thought to create a hot-wire Thermopole cutter to help us shape things. Instead, most people still bother with the candle-and-knife technique. Shame on you, and your rough uneven cuts

This Year, after the brilliant success of last year’s mascot, I was given 10k to make a permanent version of the bleeding robot.

A professor of mine, brilliant and friendly guy, took me to the tool-bazaar to get tools. I discovered certain shops that I never knew existed before now.

Thus began my 6 days into the sawdust filled hell that was our General Engineering Workshop.

Turns out, most people don’t even know where this is, since the administration decided to shove it in a corner where almost no one goes to.

I say almost since some of our desperate denizens have turned the area around it into their secluded “Lover’s Point”

Relax, it’s just a couple of girls.

So, I spent a week in this room, playing with all sorts of power tools and cursing like a sailor.

I turned this:

 

Into this:

To make this (our official event / college mascot):

And stuck it on this (without permission):

Giant 7’ tall mascots made from wood are useless if they don’t light up!

And I signed my name on it as well:

Now, obviously, I stayed the weekend over at university just to finish my work.

The scariest time was decidedly after midnight. Traversing from the workshop to the college is a long walk, in total darkness. The kind that makes your imagination try and scare the shit out of you. I kept hearing hissing noises and rustling bushes. After freaking out the first few times, I got used to it. I already nearly stepped on a frog and kicked a rat as it was.

The hissing and rustling weren’t part of my imagination. They were the machinations of this monstrosity:

We caught this in the morning. And yes, that is a relative of the fearsome Komodo Dragon. Head to hind legs, nearly four feet long. FUCK! I am never ever going to stay overnight in uni again.

All in all, this was another fun experience.

Now I know that I’m old enough to be working and being stuck in a university and prolonging my education is hardly something I would normally get excited over. Thing is, I missed out on a lot of things, and I’d appreciate it if you’d let me have my moment.

Thanks for reading, here’s a smiley face that I created by accident.

Of Escaping Reality

This isn’t a post about drug abuse.

I wish it was, that way I’d be cool. Which is unlikely

It doesn’t take a rocket-scientist to realise that I am quite socially awkward. And my obsession with geeky fandoms doesn’t make things any better.

Look, how do you expect me to be popular when all my conversations have some sort of vague reference to some TV show or comic book.

Statements like “Don’t Blink!” or “I can see your thought bubbles” are met with confusion.

So, I decided to make something for myself. Something I could escape in. Thus began the T.A.R.D.I.S Project.

Let me know if I made any sense up till now.

STEP 1:

Design the entire bloody thing in SolidWorks.

The model has two different colours due to the fact that I am using wood of two different thicknesses. 2.7mm and 1.3mm.

The other reason for designing it in SolidWorks is that rather than measure everything and sketch the parts on wood – thus increasing human error, A simple printout stuck to the surface ensures all my dimensions are correct and proportional.

The third reason? I want to be able to brag to people in uni that I have mastered SolidWorks to a certain extent.

STEP 2:

Cut pieces of wood.

This took a while. The pieces needed to be cut using a scalpel. Precise strokes were needed to keep wood from splitting. The wood in question is Balsa. Light weight, rigid and mouldable.

STEP 3:

T.A.R.D.I.S. Assemble

Joining everything with PVC Glue, followed by last minute sanding and detailing

STEP 4:

Painting

Acrylic Paint, with light sanding between coats to ensure a levelled finish

STEP 5:

The Light

Used a Glue Gun Refill – cut to size, and modelling wire to hold everything in place.

STEP 6:

Decal Duty

High resolution images scaled down (I forgot the dimensions so I checked my SolidWorks design for them) to fit directly onto the panels.

STEP 7:

DONE!

(At the time of posting, the T.A.R.D.I.S. lacks the necessary circuitry to make the light glow in true T.A.R.D.I.S. fashion. I’ll replace this text once I source the parts needed.)

And there you have it. My amazing T.A.R.D.I.S.

Of My Greatest Foe –Thus far

Old houses, specifically those built on reclaimed land, have a problem. Cracks.

When it rains these cracks have a bad habit of allowing water in. Which in turn soaks anything standing flush against the wall.

Chipboard is a poor-man’s plank of wood. It’s made from wood waste like the bark and shavings and whatever; finely chopped, soaked in water followed by squeezing all the water out of the paste, giving you a sheet of reasonably priced wood.

Now due to the process, chipboard loves water. It acts like a sponge; soaking water and inflating to disfiguring proportions.

Which is exactly what happened with my Nani’s (Maternal-Grandma) cupboard.

A couple of days after a particularly wet day, I noticed a huge bulge in her cupboard. It was big enough that the paint covering the wood had split apart.

 

Doesn’t look like much at a glance. However, in my infinite wisdom, I decided to knock on it.

That is where my nightmare truly began.

(And in hindsight, so does this story)

It was a living, breathing, throbbing, pulsating hive of termites. Imagine the scariest sounding insects buzzing when you get near the piece of wood (like they can sense you being there)

Usually I leave these tasks for dad to handle in his unique stumbling way. Yet, considering how I got my ass handed to me a week prior to this event, I would rather cover myself in pesticide and run headfirst into the cupboard than ask Dad for help.

So a day of research, 3 litres of kerosene, a litre of termite killer, a bunch of latex gloves, some surgical masks and a hammer later, I was ready.

My mum gave me specific instructions: Remove only what is necessary. We can’t afford a new cupboard

So began my week of tearing down the cupboard.

1. Take a small chunk out.
2. Spray exposed wood with pesticide mix, liberally.
3. Wait for termites to stop squirming.
4. Go to step 1.

Tearing the wall down bit by bit was annoying. I ended up displaying some more of my infinite wisdom. I started checking which areas were hollow by shoving a small screw driver in with force.

On one such occasion, I might have used excessive force and lo behold, the entire roof fell on my head.

Don’t worry, the wood was pretty much gone, with only about a billion tiny termite larvae in my hair, down my shirt, biting the crap out of me.

Dousing myself in kerosene seemed like a good idea. Followed by a scalding hot shower for an hour.

Finally lost my temper, and armed with the biggest hammer I could find, I tore down the entire cupboard.

Only things salvaged from the cupboard were the front doors, a shelf and the rod used to hang hangers on.

Now for the lesson this teaches us.

NEVER EVER GET CHIPBOARD FURNITURE

See, wood waste used to make chipboard usually contains termite eggs. These eggs need a humid environment to hatch and wreak havoc. Lasani is less prone to getting infested due to the chemical treatment it undergoes.

Thanks for reading this drivel. Termites are not your friends. I am scared of being infested by termites now. Pointless, I know.