Of Living in Style.

I admit it myself that some of my ideas are absurd and possibly borderline insane. I admit that quite openly too.

So, for the sake of writing this down so that I don't forget when the time comes, I'm going to ramble about what I consider my perfect house. Hey, this blog isn't just for your enjoyment but a way for me to keep track of what I've been up to, so that when I'm old, senile and pathetic I can read this and go "Whoever wrote this was a genius, wish I could meet him!"

See, a week ago (when my laptop's AC adaptor was fried) I was texting a friend during the wee hours of the night and her parting words were about how she'd love to live in an apartment with a dog and a something (I lost the message...) Umm.. yeah, a dog and a turtle (just asked her).. So where was I, yeah, apartment with a dog and turtle with monochrome pictures hanging on the walls etc. Basically the makings of a quaint place to relax in.

Being sleepy and a moron, I thought a house with trick doors and stuff would be cool. Now that I'm awake, I find that idea to be awesome

I mean, you've all seen movies with houses having trap doors and dungeons in them, and there are a few houses in reality that had the same traits (even the one where the owner was either a psychotic loon, or a serial murderer)

I want a house where long corridors end in dead ends with realistic looking doors painted on them. A guest entertainment room for those certain guests I hate meeting which will have a giant spiral on the roof running all the way down to the floor (repeating patterns, esp spirals cause dizziness.) Random doors that have the door knob next to the hinge. Doors stuck on walls with working knobs.

Okay, so that paragraph above ensures none of you will show up on my imaginary house-warming party. But, if I ever do have the money to burn, I'd definitely try the long corridor one. or the door stuck in a wall.

Anyways. That's all my rambling for now.

Of The Idiot Maid

Yesterday, the most fucked up thing happened. The Maid brought home a marriage proposal for me.

Lets recount the string of events that led up to yesterday.

The maid works at a couple other houses apart from ours. And as luck would have it, one such house has got a mother with two "eligible" young daughters. They're doing their second year of uni and inter respectively. So, after exhausting all the bachelors in her family (immediate, extended, and assumed.) She turns to Super Maid for help.

Our maid, being a blabbermouth had already told said woman (whom we shall call Aunty Something Silly) about our family. So, A.S.S. decided to send word through the maid to mum to find a bachelor for her daughter. Mum told the maid to tell A.S.S. to use shaadi online or something similar to help.

Finally yesterday. Yesterday was off on account of Karachi's personal tsunami shield, Abdullah Shah Ghazi. So, yesterday, the maid comes and tells mum that A.S.S. didn't want just any bachelor, but Mum's son.

Mum gave the maid the you-must-be-high look and told her that A.S.S. is insane.

Anyways, today the maid, upon nani's questioning the maid coughed up details of A.S.S's family. The daughters are super-bloated... so no oppertunity lost there.

Oh and also today, the maid and nani are convinced that, because of the heavy rains 4-5 months ago, the floor of nani's room is no longer flat but bumpy. We ended up rolling balls and toy cars from the supposed bump... and to our surprise, there wasn't one!

Atleast this time it's something mundane, and not scary like the ghost our maid used to see in nani's room (and subsequently nani could see it too)

Of My Blog Learnt a New Trick

Okay, you can stop playing dead now...

So, recently... or maybe not so recently, I went to give my KIET interview. Before doing so, I taught my blog one new trick, playing dead.

Anyways, I'm proud to announce that I've been accepted at both Sir Syed and PAF KIET.

Of a New Way To Boost Morale

Ladies and Gents, I cleared the PAF KIET Entrance Test.

Interview's tomorrow. KIET announced the results online. And instead of giving you a list of everyone who cleared it, they ask for your Admission Form number and then tell you if you've cleared the test or not.

So, Mom's been really excited about the whole thing. And, in order to boost my confidence, or to get me to meet new friends, she's been inputting various numbers into the search thingy to find out who's going to be in the room with me. And my adorable sister suggested that they both find those people on FaceBook so I know what my competition/future friend looks like.

I mean, I can totally picture myself standing up and asking if there's a Syed Hassan Ali in the room (one of the numbers mum "tested"), and then complimenting him on his artful choice for a display picture. Probably followed by some advice about the latest problem he put up in his status message... right. I don't know about making friends, but this would definitely freak people out.

Anyways, so far Mum's gone through 10 roll numbers and located three "friends" for me.

In case you're wondering, the stalker gene runs in the family.

Cheers. Pray I ace the interview.

Of a Personal Space Bubble

Okay, so I was out a while back getting flat-bread and I had the strangest experience. Now, this certain experience is usually expected to occur when you're travelling in a bus. But with a roti-wala?

So, I'm standing minding my own business and this asshole with pointy man-boobs and a hard-on squeezes behind me. And those three points start prodding me. Now, I didn't know at that time how old the guy was and if he was doing this on purpose or someone was shoving. So, being a nice guy, I ignored it. The man in front of me had an orphanage to feed with the 30 rotis he ordered. Then came a waiter from the nearby dhaba. The roti-wala gives preference to this dhaba and he can literally nick the rotis before we can even touch them. So he started stealing rotis. Now combined with the tri-poke from behind, this was getting on my nerves. So I turned around to see the happy-faggot and he turns out to be some dude in his late 20s... okay... and there's no one behind him... I yell "FAG! QUIT IT" (yes, in English) and proceeded to aggressively get the roti and come home. (Yes, you can laugh)

This experience reminds me of another experience that in my view was far worse.

Week or so back, I finally shaved for some reason. That evening, I went to our local video-wala to rent "The Surrogates" (They should retire Bruce Willis.) Before I could rent out the movie and watch it from the comfortable chair in my room, the video-wala decided to give me some facial grooming tips. He went on and on about how "safety razors are haram and if you want to shave you should get those hair-clippers and use them, because razors will make your beard stiff and if you use the clippers my beard will be baby-soft and you should touch my beard to see what I mean.." wait, what?? Yes, he wanted me to touch his beard. OMGWTF He insisted I touch his beard, and not be shy about it. Suffice to say, I went to the shop next door and ended up buying the movie for twice what I pay to rent it.

I don't know about you, dear readers, but I for one, don't like touching other people for no damn reason. A handshake is pretty much it for me.

Tomorrow I go to Sunday Bazaar.

Of Entrance Tests

I'm finally done with my two entrance tests.

Yesterday was a colleague's wedding/reception/something with food involved. It's strange how people look different when they're about to be married.

Anyhoo. My entrance tests are done, so now I go and read One Piece and then sleep.

Of 5th November

I really really want to sneak up behind someone with a pair of hairclippers and whisper in a hoarse voice: "I killed you 10 minutes ago, now I shave your head"

So, I'm a lazy bum. Apart from preparing for my entrance tests, I have been doing nothing of any importance. That's why, today being Guy Fawkes day, I decided to do something fun. Hence I made the mask. I wonder if they'll let me wear it in school. Oh well, I'll start paying attention to the blog soon. Like, once Sunday passes.

Cheers.

Of House

A man's in his appartment alone, watching TV. The words "and now for our feature presentation" can be seen on the screen. Suddenly, the man drops the remote, starts having a serizure, falls off the couch and begins to bleed from his eyes, ears etc.

He's probably going to die, since no one's there to call 911, so lets not worry about him by enjoying this chopped up instrumental bits of Tear Drop by Massive Attack

House: Okay, differential diagnosis people. Patient presents with

• sudden baldness,
• hoarse throat,
• x^3 + 5x^2 - 7x + 3 = 0

GO!

Smart-ass Guy: What about the bleeding-and-seizure-guy people saw at the start of the episode?
House: He's dead!
Prissy Guy: Really? * burst into tears *
House: Shut up or I will hit you. Focus on the symptoms on the board. Bleeding-and-seizure-guy was the end result. We're looking for the cause to his condition.
Over-eager Girl: Could be Lupus?
House: You've spent 5 years working with me, if there's one thing that's established it's that it is never Lupus. Also generic sexist remark
Prissy Guy: * still sobbing slightly * It has to be Lupus! We're dealing with a wolf!
House: * Whacks him with his cane, knocking him out * Idiot!
Smart-ass guy: If we focus on the alphabet in the third symptom, XXX could mean he's in the adult industry and contracted a virulent STD?
House: Close, but no cookie. He's bald because he shaved his head, hoarse because he thinks it's macho and the third is quite obvious. Wake Prissy Guy up and capture Vin Diesel for me.
Over-eager Girl: So he's not even a patient here?
House: Nope!
Smart-ass Guy: Why?
House: Because I don't like his movies. Time to put him down! * Psychotic Expression *



So. I finished 5 seasons of House M. D. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out that M.D. stands for Mad Doctor rather than Medicinæ Doctor after watching a handful of the episodes. Ordinarily I would have started off by pointing out all the bad stuff, like poor acting, thematic drug-use (which leads little teens to believe that drugs are good) and a doctor who hates you even before you meet him.

Sadly, the scenario above is, despite what it may seem, really fun to watch. Hence the show redeems itself because it's got 3 idiots and a psychotic Hugh Laurie as it's cast.

Every episode is somewhat formulaic with some random guy developing some random symptom and collapsing, followed by House and idiots having a "smart" discussion where House beats down each of their theories as to why random guy is dying the way he is. Pops a pain killer. Then he gets them to break into random guy's house, pops a painkiller, harass his family, pops a painkiller, and do a bunch of pointless and inconclusive tests, after which the patient develops 5 new symptoms. He also yells at idiots for their incompetence, yells at patient for lying, has lunch with some comatose guy, steals lunch off his only friend's plate, hits on his boss, and asks for favors (that test the boundaries of his friendship) from his friend in a random order.

So, his antics have killed around 35 minutes of the airtime. Now, he'll sit in his office, taking painkillers and playing with a ball, have a sudden epiphany and voila, he knows exactly what's wrong with the patient and cures him.

You're wondering what's the point of having idiots on a payroll if House can do the job by himself. He needs someone to insult, to boss around, and to talk to the patient. Actually there was one episode where he replaced the three idiots with a janitor and still got the job done. There are rumors that he's going to use a parrot mid-season 6. Imagine:

House: Patient banged his head against wall till his skull cracked and he started bleeding.
Polly: *Sqwak*
House: But that doesn't explain why it started bleeding
Polly: Lupus! Lupus *Sqwak*
House: It's not Lupus
Polly: Emo Blog! Emo Blog!
House: Close, but he doesn't have a computer!
Polly: Polly wanna Cracker *sqwak*
House: Yes, he might be psychologically ill.
House: Polly, break into Coma-Guy's house, then take a blood sample and ... you might want to ask the janitor to help you out with that...
Polly dons a pair of rubber gloves on it's feet and flutters off.

Watching House has made me realise something really important. The average American's immune system is really weak. So weak that if we were to feed them desi bun-kebabs straight off the vendor's cart, they would die easily. We practically live in mold, have landfills a stone's throw away, have more carbon di-oxide in our blood than oxygen, excrement laced water flooding our streets at regular intervals. Yet we're perfectly fine. Same cannot be said about the Americans.

Back on topic. House has the makings of an interesting show. Hey, the only reason I bother watching American TV is because it helps me focus on my creative tasks, like making flower capsules for sale or whatever you may. Yet, this show was fun enough to put a serious dent in my production speed.

Now, I download the 2 hour special season premier. House vs Mental Asylum. Finally a worthy adversary.

Of The Medicine Cabinet

(Okay, so that's not our medicine cabinet.)

Anyhoo, having a doctor for a dad can get harrowing at times. You know how you have over-protective parents who go "OMG! MY BABY!!" every time they see you fall? Well, dad kinda falls in that category.

See, I dunno if this is because he really loves us, or is trying to update his stock of pills, but this is a typical scenario in our house if you're ever caught doing anything that you wouldn't ordinarily do (it involves a mild cough, throat clearing, or even a sneeze)

Usually, any member of our family presents any symptom like toothache, headache, etc - he'll ask for the medicine box to be brought to him (It's actually one of those 2 litre ice-cream tubs) Then he'll rummage through the pills and pull out at least 3 different kinds. Problem solved.

Unusually, he'll start diagnosing us whether we are showing symptoms or not. Mom complains about a headache, Dad'll chalk it up to Low BP and prescribe a cup of coffee and a salted boiled egg. Sister complains about a stomach ache, she gets to chug down an anti-acid, an anti-ulcer, and a de-wormer.

So get this. I went downstairs last night and dad was in the kitchen chopping chicken necks to make Cat Food. I sneezed for some reason (maybe someone was talking about me behind my back?)

Me: Achooo!
Dad: (without looking up) Take a Panadol CF, an anti-histamine, and a cup of green-tea.
Me: Errr... It was just a sneeze.
Dad: Shutup and do as I say. My house, my rules.
Me: *sigh* *cough* *cough* *cough*
Dad: Drink some cough syrup too, and tomorrow you're going for your blood test.
Me: Errrr... I just inhaled some water... No big deal.
Dad: You're getting a blood test. Final.

Super-Doctor Dad .... is something I'd never dare call him.

Also, I found out that the Blood test people are really wasteful. I'm sure you've seen in western medical dramas when they're taking a blood sample, they first stab you with a special needle, then stick a vacuum-sealed test tube on the other end and it sucks out the required amount of blood.

Here, we surprisingly do have the vacuum-sealed tubes, but not the needles. So, first you get a syringe stuck in you, filled with blood, then stuck into the tube... i wonder what they do with the left over blood...

insights welcome.

Of Rainbows Smell Tangy. . .

. . . and other weird shit.

Now that I have your attention, I am going to try and go to sleep. Actually, I don't care. Feel free to ignore this post.

LALALALALALA

I never go "LALA"

Also, House M.D. Marathon. Will bitch when done!

Someone gimme the recipe for Chappati Nachos... I remember reading it somewhere