Of My Awesome Readers

I use the word Awesome alot. . . . AWESOME!

Okay, so in this month and half that I've been in Uni, I've turned into a full fledged harami. This is sad. Oh well.

POLL!! VOTE NOW! ---->

So, last post was a good one (or so you say).

One thing that I point out time and time again, I write exactly the way I talk. Since most of you (save my IRL friends) haven't ever heard me, we need to give you an idea.

So, for the time being, (as in till I figure out how to podcast for free and whether it's worth the hassle) I'd ask you to use your imagination.

Imagine a voice laced with sarcasm, putting emphasis on words that don't need emphasis, and slowly stretching out words that do need it. Oh and I talk about my ideas like a mom would about her kid.

"Chunnu ney aaj pehley kadam leay!! :D"

Of Reality Sucks

Apparently people are tired of living real life. Real life has no appeal it seems.

This would explain why there is such a huge demand for “Reality TV.”

Who in hell comes up with the concept of Reality TV Shows anyways? I mean, how many times (in real life) do you see a group of 16 strangers stuck on an island, with each one being systematically eliminated by a group of primates until one is left and that one gets a million bananas.

Honestly, the hype that these shows create really doesn't make sense. Take the Amazing Race for example. If, and this is a hypothetical if, I was to go to Japan for an all expenses paid trip, I’d rather be doing something easy like sight-seeing rather than climbing the exterior of Tokyo Tower to retrieve a clue hidden in a pigeon nest at the top. I mean come-on, if you’re going to an exotic country, go as a tourist, not a fugitive – always running from one point to the next yelling and screaming at your partner, running after people, running from people.

I was channel surfing a while back, which is rare given that I don’t really like watching TV. I landed on AXN, after enduring clips of clichéd “Bold and Beautiful” and a weird music video of an equally weird Sindhi song. CSI was on. Or it was on had I been a little quick with my surfing. Sadly the adverts had started.

1. On the next season of TOP CHEF! Watch as 12 different contestants battle it out blah blah blah blah we think if we keep yelling out the details you’ll actually want to watch the show. Look we even threw an Indian chick and made this show about spicy food. This is different from last season since now we have two Indian chicks. Do watch the show! Please!
2. On the next episode of Beauty and The Geek! Watch as how we go to the extreme and take the hottest chicks and make them date the ugliest guys around. You know this will never happen in reality so it’s going to be fun to watch. This week we’ll focus on developing convolutedly fake emotions between Hot-chick-with-a-huge-rack-that’s-draining-her-brain-of-much-needed-blood and Social-outcast-who-loves-penguins-to-the-point-of-obsession. Oh The Drama
3. Next Week on So You Think You Can Dance? Watch how limber couples dance in ways you can only imagine. Watch how one nutcase nearly breaks his neck during a break-dance routine. Look at this crying couple, did they lose or win? You won’t believe this but the asshole-British judge just gave a heart-felt compliment. Did he really mean it or was it sarcasm. Find out Next Week.
4. Coming up Tonight! Rachel Zoe Project. Watch how a skeletal corpse with more botox in her face than actual fat launches her line of creepy clothes with the help of incompetent help. We shall even throw in some dirty talk and innuendos that you can only dream to find in The Apprentice! We have no idea why anyone would even bother watching her show? Okay, lets show the clip with the metrosexual help crying once again.
5. On the next episode of Australia’s Next Top Model, the girls who have no marketable skills save their looks will battle each other in a pool filled with mud. Actually, it’s all for a “photo-shoot” for a high-profile client. *cough*playboy*cough* Witness how this show is remarkably similar to America’s Next Top Model, we just got a cast with a funny accent, some super-famous designers from Australia (who are actually struggling designers in America – but you shouldn’t be aware of that.) And finally to give you that feeling of being in Australia, we’ll give out shit prizes to our winner. So, to distract you from mulling over the similarities, we’ll show you a clip of this girl crying her eyes out (the surprise here is that she wasn’t eliminated, but rather someone else was, for whom she had no particularly strong feelings)

There must have been other advertisements, but I must have tuned them out. Anyways, when they ended, I found out that CSI was over too. I used to really like CSI at one point. Keeping aside CSI:LV’s Gil Grissom and his epic deductions or CSI:M’s Horatio Caine and his infamous one-liners, CSI makes forensics fun! I am pretty sure the only reason anyone watched the bullet analysis parts was because of the catchy instrumental tune. It’s like asking KISS to sing a nursery rhyme to a bunch of orphans.

I dare you to imagine our desi Richie Rich (you know, whose dad owns this country) being asked by daddy dearest to go work in each province to prove his worth to the country. GeoTV follows him to Punjab, where he mucks around in knee deep rice paddies; Sindh, where he helps his wadera brothers with poultry rearing and Pajero maintenance; N.W.F.P. where he becomes the trainer and obstacle course for the Taliban forces while harvesting opium on the side and Balochistan, where he. . . relaxes?

So yeah. Reality Does Suck. Imagine the next Pakistani Reality Show: A Simple Rickshaw!

Of Being Sad

So, I’m still feeling blue. Somewhat.

Listening to Lost Prophets isn't helping much. They make such sad music.

So, I’m going to do a picture post.

Of The Forests of Lollywood and Bollywood

Life is full of predictable patterns. The sun rises from the west and sets in the east. What goes down must come up. Winters are warm and the summers unbearably cold. Tiny little birds hatch into big grown eggs which subsequently lay more tiny birds.

Well, at least all of this should be happening in movies.

When I was a kid, I had the misfortune of enduring through Pakistani and Indian movies that my grandma loved to watch.

Now that I’ve grown up, dad loves watching Indian movies, and I end up watching old Urdu movies on Filmazia to cheer me up when I’m feeling blue. Trust me, if you haven’t done so already, tune into a 90’s Pakistani movie airing on Filmazia when you’re feeling down. Just the pure WTF-ness and blatant defiance of logic will cheer you up (unless you plan on going into the movie business)

If you show the old movies to any Engineer, he’ll tell you that they had their script written before Newton had an apple-tree shit on him. They have no concept of . . . well, anything! Gravity doesn’t work, nor does force and motion, nor does logic. I mean, hero punches minion and minion flies half a mile back into a solid concrete wall, punching a hole in it. Hero then grabs an empty machine gun, and unloads a thousand bullets into the remaining minions without ever reloading the gun.

No offence to my readers across the border – come to think of it, our media is equally messed up. It’s just that yours gets a lot more exposure and is more interesting, (not to mention has comparatively lax censorship laws than ours) since we see it way before our industry copies 80% of it and force feeds it to us.

Most desi movies (and TV Serials) I’ve come across have certain things that are almost like a requirement that needs to be fulfilled before it’s even considered to be aired.

• A hero and a heroine. They can be evil or good, romantic turned murderer, or terrorist turned McDonalds busboy.
• Five or so songs whose combined budget seems to be twice that of the entire movie. These songs are rarely real life. Most of them are imaginary with either the hero or heroine snapping out of it by some randomly placed extra who’s only job in the entire movie is to put an end to the high budget song.
• A sex scandal. Though these have (or rather their shock value has) become rare  these days, they still pop up. It’s like a last minute thing they can throw in to spice a long running drama or a movie that’s gotten really boring in between two flashy songs.
• An unexpected pregnancy. Again, to spice up a dying storyline.
• A pregnancy complication. (All for the drama!)

We Pakistanis are like India’s little sibling when it comes to Dramas. We copy and modify everything from Indian dramas.

Hey, personally I find watching 90210 (the newer sluttier version) better than an Desi Drama. At least you aren’t shocked by the goras having flings and shit. It is expected from their super-liberal society.

Now, excuse me. I’m going to to go watch Dexter. Blood-Loving-Serial-Killer-with-a-Heart-of-gold trumps Crazy-Ass-Family-Politics every time!

Of Comedy Galore

So, tonight I went to see Saad Haroon’s This is Stand Up Comedy.

Danish Ali is brilliant. I mean, he’s freaking awesome!

I mean, anyone who looks like this, is awesome!

I was planning on writing something long and meaningful as to how cool the show was (since watching him perform is just amazing.

I apologize to people who aren’t living in Karachi or Pakistan, since most of these jokes are based on the various happenings around us. I will try and give you an idea what’s going on. The rest can skip this paragraph and click on the link below. Our Bollywood superstar Meera has horrible English, due to which she’s an embarrassment to the film industry. Mr. Zee is, well, a very corrupt man. Certain cyber-laws prevent me from actually naming him. Use your brains. And we’ve got an abundant supply of refugees who’ve taken upon themselves to rush at cars stopping at an intersection and washing their windshields without the consent of the driver (who keeps yelling at them to cease and desist) and then guilt-tripping them out of money. And lastly, our electricity supply is nowhere near our demand for the stuff.

Danish Ali – Batman in Pakistan

I had a lot of fun. Hope you understand what he’s saying.

Of Prediction Cat

While the rest of you are total buffoons and follow horoscopes and Psychic applications on Facebook that deduce how your day is going to be based on the way your Fishville fish are swimming (Okay, horoscope following people aren’t buffoons. the latter are.) I have a living breathing psychic at home.

My cat’s like a super-charged Magic 8 Ball. We just started to exploit her abilities.

• I asked her if I had a chance of getting into KIET (so that if I did I’d apply there.)
• I asked whether I should go to KIET or SSUET.
• My sister asked her if she would be the anchor for the mega event our school’s holding (the one for which I’m slaving away.)
• Mum asked whether she and her sister will become friends (Not that she’s dying to be friends … family politics)
• Mum asked if a relative of ours who recently eloped with some guy and just came back would be welcomed by the guy’s mother (since now she’s the mother of the heir)
• I asked her if a friend of mine should respond to this chichora guy asking her out (even though the obvious answer is no)

And lo-behold.

• She said yes, I applied for KIET and got in
• She said yes, and I paid the fees.
• She said no, and turns out that the event got delayed by a week and my sister has some fashion show at the exact same day in school.
• She said Yes and in Feb (this we’ll have to wait and see. As it is, my other khala, who can’t stand siblings fighting is coming over to Karachi in Feb)
• She said no, and yesterday Mum found out that the relative’s mother-in-law still hates her, and has disowned her son
• She said no, even she knows he’s an ass.

So yeah.

I know most of you must think I’m insane – have you even read the blog? I am insane and proud of it. But the cat’s prophecies are true. Sure she can’t talk, but she can move, meow, and sit on things. Like a parrot, only a thousand times more accurate.

Today, the headmistress’s office is getting a total make-over. New paint, new chairs, new upholstery. The last time this happened, our old head, Ms Farah, was booted off to another section. I should go and ask Prediction Cat if our current head has job security or not.

BTW, TOMORROW'S SINGLES DAY! MAKE YOUR NEAREST COUPLE MISERABLE!!

Of Fathers and Tailors

If you live in Karachi, you must be familiar with this building. It’s Moosajee’s Defence branch,

Moosajee’s is a well known brand of bespoke suiting. My awesome cousin from the UK decided to treat me to a suit too. So, since he’s footing the bill, I’ll be in possession of an awesome suit soon

Now, today was my trial fitting. Naturally, trial fittings mean that the suit is no where near complete. It’s just a bunch of pieces of expensive fabric loosely stitched together.

Dad was really eager to go with me to the trial. Now, before I continue, let me tell you something about my dad. He picks a fight with everyone. He’ll get pissed at the smallest of things. We go to celebrate mum’s birthday at Pizza hut, salad bar’s out of cucumbers, dad throws a fit. Naturally keeping such incidents in mind, I tried my best to somehow leave dad home. Sadly my luck sucks.

So, I’m at the trial, the tailor gave me the trousers, tossed me into the dressing room. Now, i found out that the trousers didn’t have anyway to keep the fly completely closed. Soon as I wore the trousers, dad barges in. One look at my semi closed fly and he’s up in the tailor’s grill. Statements such as “In England suits are made with precision” “I got suits made when you were still a little kid” etc were tossed about the dressing room.

So needless to say, the tailor was bullied into pinning my fly shut (an uncomfortable experience for the both of us – which I’ll get around to blocking from my memory as soon as I’m done with this post.) Then dad saw that I was without shoes. He sweep kicked them from across the room towards me yelling at me to wear them.

Then he continued to order the tailor around, altering my suit (which looks damn good as it is by the way) to a style that was in fashion in the 1940s.

So, not only was I extremely embarrassed, even the tailor was getting uncomfortable and since dad was shadowing me, I never got the chance to apologise for dad’s behavior or ask him to ignore all the alterations dad made him do.

After a very silent trip home, I finally had the brilliant idea as dad was out of the house to call the shop. The tailor had some trouble remembering who I was till I said “I’m the guy whose dad is uh…ummm *ahem* *ahem*” to which he said “OH YESSSSS!! What can I do for you.?” Undid all the weird ass changes.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t particularly like undermining dad’s authority. Dad’s got his huge-ass flaws, but I would rather let him believe that he’s doing the right thing than shatter his dreams. Not to mention piss him off. Pissed off dad is very very bad for health.

Of V-Day

The world's most pathetic celebratory event.

This isn't a case of sour grapes, but please! Couples get all sorts of opportunities to celebrate their love for each other. You have week-iversaries, month-iverseries, dates, and hot make-out sessions as it is. Do you honestly need another day to rub it into our single faces?

We should have a S-Day. Singles Day. Where single friends get to embarrass the couples by revealing secrets and deep dark thoughts of one half of the loving couple to the other. Basically one day when couples would hide in their own closets (alone) afraid to even call the other one.

Single people unite! I propose every Feb 21st be an Anti Valentines Day! We will make every happy couple uncomfortable (no, we won't break them up... just make them regret ever rubbing their happiness in our faces)

So spread the word. 21st Feb we make people miserable. Because we all are very very single and very very harami.

Of Radioactive Potatoes

Two days ago I was talking to a friend of mine, and thought she loves my rambling stories just as much as the next reader, she really hates my blog.
She hates:

• The Colour Scheme: "Honestly, green and blue? Do you really love mold that much? The entire thing promotes a feeling of nausea in me whenever I open the page.
• The Blog Name: Why is it called Radioactive Potatoes From Outer Space Will Enslave Us when there's nothing written about radiation, potatoes, space, outer space, slavery, or us. It's just really really confusing.
• The Post Titles: What's with the "Of Monkeys and Monsters" or "Of I Have A Stupid Blog" or "Of I make You Feel Nauseous Just By Looking At This Page" or "Off! The Mosquito Repellent" (The last one is my creation. She had nothing to do with the super-lameness)
• The Blog Picture: You had to ruin a perfectly good potato just to make your corny mascot. Now I find potatoes creepier than usual.

So, this has forced me to think, how many of you actually like the entire thing. I mean, how many of you actually enjoy reading the blog as a whole, rather than go “OMG THE COLOR SCHEME!!! IT BURNS!! hehe pushto movies are awesome!! THE BURNING!!”
I have an idea. If there’s anyone with the time and the motivation to fix up the blog’s appearance (you can change everything short of the name) you are welcome to try. Just mail me at bakemono (dot) imo (at) gmail (dot) com. If you want the code for this template to be your base, I’ll be more than happy to send it.
That being said. I’m off for the while, need to rest up a bit. Some asshole gave me the flu.
Remember: bakemono.imo@gmail.com
Looking forward hearing from you.

Of Imo in the Real World

As you all know, I'm a university going student now.

So I will continue to bore you with University Stories till the novelty wears off.

Today, I discovered that my Potato-ey alter ego (This thing) has been seeping it's way into my real mild-mannered life. So, the scenario is like this: English Class, the teacher asks us to form groups. Now being a natural leader, I rallied two people and assumed control.

The exercise was to choose three pictures from a pile of newspaper clippings and then use them in an oral presentation in such a way that they can be related to each other. I didn't get much of a choice being the second-last one to sift through the pile. I managed to blindly pick three pictures. They were (descriptions can be found if you hover the pointer over the picture): Now I know what most of you must be thinking: “Imo, dude! What the hell? How will you link these three pictures together? They’re miles apart!” Well… even though I don’t have a stock-pile of fairy dust, I do make miracles appear out of thin air. Behold

Once upon a time, in a lush jungle in the middle of China, a family of tigers lived in peace. They were happy.

However, one fateful day, a rogue employee escaped from the nearby industrial area. He happened to stumble upon the tiger cubs while their mother was away hunting for food. He had a devious idea. He kidnapped them and took them to Bagdad where he sold them and was never seen again.

When the mother tiger came from her hunt, she saw that her kids were missing. Now two things to note here. First is that the kidnapping and selling took place while the mother was hunting, and secondly, you should know that cats have an amazing sense of smell.

After the tigress had locked onto the scent of the cubs she went out to search for them. She hitchhiked on a bus along the Silk Route. Then swam the Atlantic, and even camped in the Arctic.

Finally after 3 months, the tigress tracked down her cubs to a zoo in Bagdad. Now, if anyone of you have kids – and I’m pretty sure at least a couple of you do – you’d know that if someone takes your kid away from you, you’d go to the ends of the Earth to get him/her back

(over here, someone from the audience said “no”)

Then you don’t love your kid. Don’t become a father. Put him up for adoption. The rest of you agree with what I said, yes? YES?

(you literally have to poke these people to get a response out of them)

So anyways the tigress saw the zoo keeper trying to feed her kids. She pounced on him and tore him to bits.

While the tigress and her cubs were feeding on the Zoo Keeper, his dying screams attracted the attention of the visitors, who ran across the road.

Now as everyone knows, animals can’t cross roads. Why else do you think they have so many “why did the chicken cross the road” jokes. Animals can’t cross roads and that’s final.

So, after feasting on the Zoo Keeper, the tigress thought that it’s time to go home. As it is it’s been a long vacation and now they should head home. But wait! Soon as she reached the main gate, she smelt something really familiar. She had found the scent of the hunter who took her cubs

Now, lets look at the hunter. After selling the cubs, he took the money and opened a Pan shop across the road from the zoo, as was his life long dream.

The tigress was outraged. Not only did this man ruin her family, he continues to do so with the families of millions by supplying pan, gutka and cigarettes to their offspring. Enough is enough she thought. This. Ends. Now. (*narrows eyes*)

(*whisper*) And as she slowly advanced towards the pan shop, the air became still and the last thing anyone ever heard from the shop was the hunter’s terrified scream…(/*whisper*) and they lived happily ever after.  (*big insane smile*)

Now, not only did I get a hearty round of applause from the class, during this short story, the teacher’s cell rang and rather than ask me to stop and answer the call, he cut it off without even looking at it and apologized to me. Imagine. My story was that captivating (and senseless, since the teacher kept asking for the logic behind the sudden scene changes)

Hope you all enjoyed this story as much as I did concocting it.