Of Quenching Intellectual Thirst

Before you start reading this post, be warned that it’s highly disjointed and you’ll need some patience to read it.

During Christmas season, some weirdo I follow on Deviant-Art, asked people “If Your Friends were an Inanimate Object what would they be” Now I don’t know how this relates to Christmas or anything sensible for that matter, but I thought of answering it none-the-less.

I see my friends as Chess Pieces. Here’s why:

• Most of my “friends” are no different than a simple pawn. A pawn moves forward and attacks forward diagonally. These people are nothing more than a social symbol. I don’t normally talk to them and I know better than to rely on them.
• The Rooks, Knights, and Bishops are the ones I rely on. These people are the ones who’re ready to act at a moment’s notice. Whether it’s something trivial as spotting me some credit, or something more meaningful like helping me out of an extremely stick spot.
• The Kings, I shall always protect
• The Queen is an “imba” piece… and I am not really looking to fill that slot

Anyways. Chess Pieces aside. A while back, I whined about being intellectually thirsty. If you don’t know what I’m talking about I’ll save you the trouble of reading said post. I have been living in social isolation for the last 11 months. That’s taking it’s toll on me and I recently cracked.

So a friend of mine decided to grace me with her presence. It reminded me of the good old days when Intellectual Bonga-pana was abundant and our adopted child FWL (It’s a now dead community on Orkut) was alive and free from all the teenage problems (bratty kids, Brazilians, preachy assholes, (wo)man Walnut cookies* looking for their next booty or even Telgu Nuts who side-tracked every thread towards Bollywood Bakwass)

(* Rhymes with Horse)

Had her British Asim Net not been mauled by a British Neighborhood Aunty’s equally British Flea bitten British Dog, this conversation would have gone somewhere meaningful (who am I kidding, it wouldn’t have turned meaningful even if it carried on for all eternity.

Imo: Really?

Lady Z: Yes.

Imo: Ahan

Lady Z: do you not believe me, muggle?

Imo: I see. I do believe you, muggle

Lady Z: good, muggle.

Imo: I know, muggle

Lady Z: so, muggle...

Imo: yes muggle?

Lady Z: what's up??!

Imo: I’m bored.

Lady Z: Why but?

Imo: I’m bored because I have nothing fun to do. I kinda miss the FWL days

Lady Z: I do too! It has died!

Imo: Overtaken by Indians (who are so unlike the ones I’m friends with)... they are somewhat an intellectual mutation of the Brazilians.. The overtakers that is.

Lady Z: Ack. painful when children die like that... even adopted ones, do you remember etymologically speaking?

Imo: I was just going to mention it. It died too no?

Lady Z: Yes! Almost stillborn

Imo: More like a child with a forked tail and horns born to a super Christian family

Lady Z: hahhha

Imo: "Kill it with fire" yelled the doctor

Lady Z: "It's my baby!" the pale mother pleaded

Imo: "it's the spawn of Satan" cried the nurse before fainting (I shouldn't be dissing your attempt at making an intellectual group)

Lady Z: "It's all YOUR fault, woman!" the father turned on the mother

Imo: "Hehe" chuckled the mother sheepishly

Lady Z: While all this was happening, the baby had tripled in size...

Imo: And tried to go up hill on a unicycle

Lady Z: Having failed, he turned his wrath upon the miserable doctor

Imo: Whose name was Mark Zuckerberg

Lady Z: With one mighty flick of his wrist, the baby

Imo: Forced Zuckerberg to change his diaper

Lady Z: The nurse tried to escape while no one was looking

Imo: But Zuckerberg switched places with her while the baby's eyes were closed and ran away instead

Lady Z: The baby fell asleep, snoring like a tractor..

Imo: The dad took this chance to record an informative program aimed at Farmers for PTV World, with his wife manning the camera. You know, "nazareen, yeh tractor hai. iss key aage do chotey payye hote hain aur peechey do barrey payye hote hain. yeh khait khodney mein istemaal hota hai

I went after Mark Zuckerberg because Facebook Chat (which we were using at that time) sucks Doughnut Biscuits. It kept lagging and disconnecting. Lady Z, never again are we going to talk on FB Chat. Skype deffo, not FB Chat.

Sadly I can’t have the same kind of conversation with anyone else that I have with her. So, it’s a limited commodity.

Of The Bua Constrictor

So, I left school, but the newsletter’s ghost still haunts me.

Recently it’s possessed a friend of mine turned School Teacher. On a side note, ever wonder why City Students prefer to join their school after they graduate?

Back to the topic at hand, this friend of mine, who will be represented by a stand-in that you see on the right. So, this friend, whom we shall call Basmati Rice, (because the bag of rice is also called Basmati Rice – the brand’s not that important) found the newsletter to be really awesome, and wants to continue it. What she doesn’t know is that I didn’t have the responsibilities of a teacher so I could afford to goof around and spend a week pretending to make a copy (though usually it took me one sleepless night and half the next working day to actually make it)

So Rice’s being idealistic, and I’m enjoying the ride. First order of business is that since the Buzz Bee (mascot of the newsletter) was killed off, turned into a zombie and killed again, won’t be able to make a return appearance (How many dead zombies have you seen come back to life eh?) Hence we need a new mascot.

Now, when the original Buzz was being thought of, a like minded teacher suggested “Anaconda” as the name of the newsletter. Now, I get another chance to use Anaconda. Sadly, Anaconda was shot down by the Head Mistress. So was Buzz-a-conda, Banana-Conda, Bee-a-conda, Oh-No-It’s-a-Snake-Wait-Just-Kidding-It’s-a-Newsletter-a-conda

Bua Constrictor had promise, so before I pitched that I cooked up a back story for it

  So, once upon a time there lived a construction worker and his wife. The construction worker was a hard working man who spent the entire day laboring at some saith's house while the wife was a nanny/maid at the Haq household.

  Now the Haqs had Mr. and Mrs. Haq who lived the stereotypical lives of the rich business man and the socialite aunty. Their son, Jimmy urf Jamsed, studied in class 6 at one of the best schools.

  Jimmy (or Jamsed, as he preferred to be called) was an average student. He was interested in Dragon Ball Z, Pokémon, and other boys, as was the norm for students of his particular age.Now you wonder, what's anyone got to do with anything in this story. Patience please.

  So, Jamshed's school had a new fad. Every month they'd publish a newsletter. And every month the peons would come to each class, hand one out to everyone. And every month, half of the students would start reading it then and there, the others would either crumple it or put it in their bags never to see it again. Jamshed belonged to the latter group.

  That weekend, Jamshed's Maid was cleaning his bag and the newsletter fell out. Jamshed saw it and started reading it. He scanned the front page and didn't find anything about Pokémon, or Dragon's Balls or even boys! Same was with the second page.

  Bored, he folded it into a paper plane and threw it out the window. That was where everything went to hell.

  Incidentally, when he threw the paper plane out the window, the maid's husband, the construction worker, was just getting off his bicycle, with a flower (which he plucked from a nearby garden) ready to surprise his wife. Call it Fate, or an evil gust of wind, blew the paper plane right into his eye, blinding him.

  Blinded and in pain, the construction worker fell down on the road where he was mercilessly trampled by a convoy of Igloo Tricycles. Followed by a horde of children. Followed by stray dogs and cats. Followed by lazy crows who weren't willing to fly.

  Suffice to say, he passed soon after. The maid was devastated. She cried for five days and seven nights. She wept so much that all the little mud huts in her neighborhood got washed away. She screamed more than all the little children combined (Though she never had any, as her husband was trying to win the Gas/Petrol Generator Sathi was offering)

  On the Eighth Night, she swore vengeance while eating her Daal-Roti for one. She blamed her misfortune on Jamshed and his paper plane.

  The next day, she returned to work and did everything without shedding a tear. Jamshed returned home after tuitions and and asked her to set his book bag according to the next day's time-table.

  She dropped her broom and wrapped her arms around his neck. Now, interestingly, her husband loved how flexible her arms were. He could have tied her arms together if he wanted to. Anyways. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed the life out of him. She did the same to his mother when she walked in on them.

  Well, it's funny how death by crappy newsletter-plane can cause you to go all psycho and kill people. This incident earned that maid a spot on the news, which the editor of the school's newsletter happened to see.

  The next day, in order to preserve the memory of that student, and strike fear into the hearts of all the kids who didn't read the newsletter, he made that maid into an urban legend.

  So kids, Read the god-damn newsletter / blog or Bua Constrictor will come and get you.

This was supposed to go along with the first issue. However, it too was rejected.

So dear reader, I ask you this, where did I go wrong? Please Advise.

Of Cheap Solutions Leading to Self Mutilation

So what you see above is a Safety Razor. I dunno if you’re all familiar with it but it’s the ancestor to the modern 2/3/4/5 bladed razors. Although it’s primitive, it’s cheaper to use than the latest brand of Gillette Mach3 and Schick Quarto. You use razor blades that cost 5 bucks a piece. or 2 if you want the unknown Chinese brand.

So, I got sick and tired of the whole buy a disposable new razor every week, not to mention I sometimes forgot to dry my disposable properly and it got all rusty. Also, my electric shaver runs on AA Batteries which meant that I usually never got the chance to shave when it was important as there weren’t any batteries handy. Therefore, I decided to try my hand at using what my grandpa must have used when he started shaving. I went to the local Pathan Shop (the one who sees me as the bringer of light… the other one hates me and probably wants a transformer to fall on my head) and bought a Chinese knock-off called Huang Long and a half dozen blades. Okay, lame attempt at humor aside, (hover over the picture if you’re stumped) this gives me quite a close shave. I only nicked myself 7 times yesterday and 5 this morning. Hey, I’m being affected by this recession too. I don’t have the money to buy 400/- cartridges. The logic behind such a drastic purchase was that if I managed to get accustomed to the Chinese brand, I’ll invest in a decent one when I visit some decent store next.

Oh and don’t worry, I’ve got my tetanus shots.

I will practice once again tonight. Hopefully, I’ll get the hang of it by the time I start Uni.

A side note to all the people kind enough to leave a comment. I know I’m not a regular blogger yet, but rest assured, I do reply to each and every comment before I post a new post. :)

Of Being Sold To Slavery

Okay, so a few days ago I was whining about being intellectually thirsty.

Well today the school's Regional Administrator called me. They're making some brochure and wanted me to compile it because they've "seen" my newsletters and I'm an alumni.

So, I went there to see what they wanted. So, turns out, I'll be Assisting the Regional Administrator Rehman Amjad. So my designation is A.R.A.R.A.

Kash his name had Ghaffur Illyas in it, then I'll be A.R.A.R.A.G.I.

If anyone here watches the awesome show called Bakemonogatari here, they'll get this pun/joke/lame attempt at humor

Randomness aside, this still doesn't solve much. Since it's a top secret project and I'm supposed to keep my lips sealed. So I'm supposed to be in an isolated room in school. Oh well. And it's supposed to be for free. They expect that I should be happy that I'm getting my name published in print. I wouldn't mind a cheque instead of my name being published...

Oh yeah. When I was coming back from the RO. I stopped by this bakery and these two Japani Khawateen were there. One was as old as my grandma, the other younger. The older one knew urdu and was conversing with the bakery wala. So, after carefully eavesdropping and confirming that they were Japanese, I went up and (in my barely acceptable and somewhat broken Japanese) asked them if they were from Japan. We exchanged pleasantries and the younger one (who's still older than my mom) seemed quite impressed by the effort I was making and wished me good luck and hoped I get my wish to visit Japan some day fulfilled. All this time the bakery wala was giving me a dirty look. Oh well. Just goes to show you that not all Japanese people are petty and insane. Majority of them are quite nice. 3 to 1 odds prove that.

Cheers.

This Sub-Par Blog Post has been made possible by Ali Abdul Muhammad's constant distraction.

Of My New Years Resolutions

My New Years Resolution will be 1024 by 786

No, seriously though, Here's the what I resolve I shall do in 2010 (since, if I started thinking like an idiot we have only two more years to live...)

01. Minimal Procrastination. I shall try my best to get things done as soon as possible. Which is why I'm writing my NYR on the second of January

02. More Blogging and Micro Blogging. Hey, I'm starting uni this year so naturally I'll have a lot more going on. I'll integrate the twitter account in a few days once I figure out how to blabber in 140 characters or less.

03. I will abide by my word. I will put up post-its so that I don't forget.

04. I will put in extra effort to make my friends smile. (currently the count is at 2 and both should know who they are)

05. This one is important. I will adopt a temporary personality quirk for each month. I got this idea from this running joke I had going on with an Urdu Sir at work. Each month we'd have a new handshake. And they used to get crazy at times. So for this month I shall call out bakery product's names instead of swears when I want to swear. Only catch, the product must start with the same first letter as the swear.

06. I will rekindle my love for snail mail. You have to reply if you get one.

07. I shall make the spider wall a reality. The plans have been sitting in my journal for the last few years.

08. I shall help out when asked. I shall butt in without being asked. I shall help out without being asked if I feel the situation can be improved. In a nutshell. I'm going to be as nosy and "helpful" this year as I was last year.

09. I shall use my Moleskine which I finished making today regularly to keep me on track. And I shall make a new one when it's about to finish.

10. I shall try and maintain a 2.8 or higher GPA (fee concessions baby!)

11. I am still going to be semi-anonymous on my blog. As it is, I've made it super easy for anyone to track me. Meh.

12. I'll pick up learning Japanese again.

So that's all I can think of at the moment. Yay!

Of Google Woes

Google is lame. For a while now, if you were to click on the "I'm Feeling Lucky" button without typing anything, it would show you a count-down that was supposed to end at New Years.

People gave it alot of speculation. Admittedly I was interested in it too. Turns out it's nothing more that randomly spawning Happy New Year all over the web page. Bah! Google People, you're Google, do something cool!

Of &*%$£"

Before I rant, I'll do you all a favor. Don't read this. I've written this to get it out of my system, since whenever I start to write I usually segue (pronounced segway) to this topic. So, obvious solution was to whine and get over it.

Here it goes, last chance to skip to another post.

11 awful months. That's the time I've been forced to live in social isolation. And by now it's really taking its toll on me. A couple of weeks ago I realized that I'm actually out of practice when it comes to vocal conversations. I'm not exaggerating or blowing things out of proportion here, I really do sound like a half-dead intermediate student who got his education from an urdu-medium low grade school. And I stutter... I never stutter.

After quitting my job, I went into this isolation to focus on my A-Levels, since it was my last chance to get out of this pit I fell head first into ages ago. Then it was because I had to prepare for my University Placement Test. And since my previous bosses knew about it, they refused to give me a recommendation were I to apply for any job. I was to "focus on my future."

Having too much time on your hands is a curse. Your friends grow sick and tired of putting up with you since they, unlike you, have a life. You pretty much do every entertaining activity under the sun. I've re-watched all the completed titles in my anime collection, watched every decent TV show out there, made an effing huge dragon, making a second one, made over 2000 cranes, argh!!

Do get this straight,
Writing isn't the same as talking.
Reading isn't the same as talking.

I'm tired of talking to the same 4 people (and the occasional shopkeeper)

I want to yell, scream, punch stuff, set other stuff on fire and wreak havoc on puny mortals.

Heck, even that blond principal at school won't let me help out, and I was offering for free. WHO DOESN'T LIKE QUALITY HELP FOR FREE? (yes, my desperation has reached the point where I'm willing to do the same job, that i bitched about, for free)

In conclusion, my intellectual thirst is very very thirsty!

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.