Of Hidden Suprises

Today we had a workshop on First Aid and CPR.

The conductor was a woman who had serious issues. She taught us how to give first aid treatment to an unconscious person and if push comes to shove, how to attempt C.P.R

The C.P.R. Dummy was the creepiest. It looked like a normal male with short wavy hair and a moustache. When she opened his jacket, he had boobs.

Yep, a hermaphrodite lost conciousness and you have to resuscitate him/her.

Imagine the creepy weirdness washing over you when you are compressing an endowed (wo)man's boobs, and then end up giving mouth-to-mouth to a moustached guy, and out of the corner of your eye, you see his(her?) chest rising.

Feel like screaming?

ARGH!!

P.s. The Instructor was like "If you are compressing the chest, and you hear a rib snap. You are not going to stop. No matter how many ribs snap you will not stop" So basically, the person has 1 in 3 chance of living. Either he's going to die if nothing happens to him, or he's going to die because you mashed up his ribcage pounding his chest. Woooo!

Of Sickness and Delirious Thinking

Today I stayed home cause my health caught up to me. Been sleeping since god knows when.

I should really stop working so hard. I mean, looking at my paycheck all the excess work I do is just charity. And as they say "bhalai ka zamana hi nehi raha"

So yeah. Bottom line, I worked my ass off till i was delirious with exhaustion.

*Skip to Today*

I saw Spider-Man 3.

Do not get me started on how fucked the movie was. I being a die hard fan of the comics, was disappointed in the movie. Stupid excuse to make money.

In my pissed off mood, I began wondering what would it be like if Spider-Man was a Paki Superhero.

Judging by the state of this country, he'd be a a villain. Not a super-villain, mind... A petty mobile snatcher. He'd stalk you till you turn into a dark alley and then slowly lower himself from the rooftop, something like:
Only, he won't kiss you. He'll say "Saaley, Mobile, wallet nikal aagar jaan piyari hai." If you resist, he's gonna hang you from the broken smelly lamp-post, and beat you, and then take your money and your mobile.

Like all superheroes, he has a weakness.

Phase 8.

See, Phase 8 is still in the development stages. There are no buildings as such. Only an odd house placed in he middle of nowhere every few blocks or so. Hence not that many things for Spider-Man to web-swing off.

Of Blind Old People

Eid's passed and Without much event. The Ruhat-e-Hilal committee is a step away from total blindness. As you can see, they've already gone senile.

Yep. This Chand Raat was the best ever! Till 11 PM, no one actually knew that the next day was Eid. Half the shops had closed down, households went to sleep after preparing for another Roza.

I hop you can all read the text with the picture. In case you cannot:

EYES WIDE SHUT? The Ramazan moon was not sighted by the Ruet-e-Hilal committee on Wednesday. The elderly gentleman who is using the telescope to spot the moon has his left eye (which is on the apparatus) closed, while the right eye, which is meant to be closed is open. Hmmm - The News Photo


So yeah, It had to be the best Chaand Raat ever. Till 11 o' Clock, no-one even knew it was Chaand Raat.

(On a side note, is it just me or does the telescope look a lot like one of those Road Levelling thingys that the C.B.C. uses?)

Of Bleeding Cakes and Guilt Trips

Stabbing the cake after midnight?
I felt like I was killing her birthday.
Happy Birthday Aisha. I hope you enjoy the presents at the least.

Why did it make her laugh?

and that no one figures out this hidden text's existence. * high-five *

I am not a bad cake-stabber. I'm not, I'm not, I'm not.*stab* *stab* *stab*

Of Revivals and Returns

So, I've been away from Blogger for quite a while.

I know, you haven't asked me to explain why I was away, or why I am telling you I was away.

See, my work-load increased exponentially so I had no time as such to come online and be cynical. One thing led to another and I saw myself in an alternate dimension... a dimension of Despair!

* plays dramatic music *

So, lets say, my life caught up to me, and well, that shoved me down a dark dark road. I mean, considering everything going around me, I've come to realise the futility of one's actions. There is no such thing as karmic-justice. There are people who practically screwed me over, yet there is no balance. While I slog away on a daily basis, they sit on their thrones drinking ambrosia.

And, to every dumbass who will (eventually if not already) tell me people go through shit all the time. Sympathy is not required. See, no offence (not entirely true but hey...) you cannot fathom my state so pretending to understand is pissing off.

I am just uniting what has been set asunder.

Anyways, I'm back now. And there are pictures dying to be ridiculed.

I am back.

Come Hell-fire or Nightmares. I shall be victorious.

Of Death and Life

* poke *

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* poke *

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* poke *

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"Is it Dead?"

Of Another Leaning Tower

The Leaning Signal of Kh-e-Muhafiz

So I saw this when I was going to school today. So this is the Government's latest contribution towards promoting tourism. Other Notable contributions include:

The Great Pyramid of Seaview


The Grand Canyon of Phase 4 (No longer exists)

Of Betrayal and Psycho Photographers

I HAVE BEEN BETRAYED.
I HAVE BEEN DECEIVED.

Not, by a person, not by fate. But by a menu. I was assured time and time again that Shahrukh's sister's wedding would have the menu I predicted. I WAS ASSURED!

• Chicken Tikka
• Biryani
• Chicken floating in Oil
• Foot Long Seekh Kebabs
• Two Types of Naan
  

But Noooooooo! I was Deceived!

So, when they announced that the food was ready, I happily went to the tables with the food, and guess my reaction? Yes. I was shocked. Shocked beyond shocked. The menu was not the one I was promised.

*cries*

Except for the Biryani (from which someone had picked out all the good chicken bits... hence it wasn't technically biryani) and the Chicken-Doing-The-Breast-Stroke-in-Oil (with which I had a small fight... which I was forced to call a truce upon as the gentleman behind me was staring at me with great interest) , every other dish was different.

Honestly. When I peered into pan containing the Chicken-Doing-The-Breast-Stroke-in-Oil I saw this yummy chunk of white meat. And I tried to scoop it out, but it didn't budge. So I lived out my Don Diego de la Vega Fantasy. I hacked away at it with surgical precision as displayed by The Fox. I swear, it seemed the dish was alive. No matter how hard I tried getting it out, that specific chunk kept sinking in. It was as if the entire dish was pulling it under the oil's surface. *Shockerz*

Back to the menu. I hate when people side-track from their thoughts. Like one minute you are hanging onto their every word and then suddenly they ...... I'm doing the same aren't I?

So, the Salads weren't the usual ones. No platters of cucumbers, tomatoes, onions; that you see the caterer's young Afghani helper chopping and decorating on the sidewalk outside the shop.

There was no Undercooked Chicken Tikka!! Man I love those! The beautifuly orange and black chunks with the smell of burnt flesh and masala lingering around them. And when you pick one piece and stab it with your fork expecting it to bleed, cause the insides are so red. Undercooked-Charred-Chicken-Tikka is LOVE!
Instead they had Delicious Crispy Fish-Pakoras (well they looked like pakoras). Well, they did serve as a substitute for the missing Chicken in the Chicken Biryani... so they can't be that bad.

There was no foot long kebabs. Whenever I go to a shaadi I try to find a proper foot long kebab. But our illiterate populous has this habit of breaking perfectly good kebabs into smaller pieces and fishing one out. And hence, I never do find a proper one. Instead, these people thought they could fool me by keeping something similar in shape. They had spring-rolls (a.k.a Crispy Vegetable Rolls). I am not a bloody kid! I know the difference between Kebabs and Crunchy Vegetable Rolls.

The Biggest Shock was still down the line. THEY HAD ONLY ONE TYPE OF ROTI! Not 2. ONE!! I felt like crying. I really did. Shaadis are all about the food. And they had one type of ROTI.

The realisation that I was betrayed was like a really Obese kid Pile-driving a tower made of playing-cards

Okay. The more I talk about it the worse I feel. So I shall go to the second part of the post, which should have been the first part chronologically.

Bride-san called me a Psycho-Photographer! Well, Ms Bride-san. I am sorry, but I lack the concentration, and the stamina, and the eye, and the everything needed for a normal photographer. I once thought I could make some money by being a wedding photographer, but I came to realise that I don't have it in me to stomach all those people with the plastered on smiles, and the posed, almost made-to-order picture-perfect moments.

I can't stand in a place and take pictures of the guests sitting poised and laughing at jokes that aren't there, I'd rather wait by the food tables and take multiple frame snaps of the lids being removed and the horde of those same guests rushing towards the table. That would make an interesting slide show!

I will never allow myself to take pictures of the bride and the groom with various family members... it all seems un-natural. I would rather wait until the groom starts to shovel food down his gullet and the bride looks at him with disgust (which... didn't occur at this wedding. BUT! I have seen this scenario)

Also, though totally unrelated. I feel that the stage should have a gentle slope rather than two rickety steps. The groom is relaxing on his comfortable sofa and he's gotta get up cause as soon as the bride steps on the first rickety step she wobbles, and the groom, being the gentleman he's supposed to be has to give her a hand (which gives those photographers another "opportunity" to take pictures.) If I didn't know better, I'd say that the photographers are in league with the stage people, and hence you have rickety steps on almost every stage.

Well, that's that. I have no more to rant about. I do feel I should express my views about the desi shaadi system. but I need to investigate it more before I present my findings.

And Shahrukh and Bride-san and everyone else at the Shaadi. I did have fun. Everything you read here is just my way of looking at things. Hope you, Bride-san, have a great future. All of this is for entertainment purposes only. None is meant to hurt anyone. And I do take the Psychotic-Photographer as a compliment (I have a feeling you are just jealous).

Of Cover Girls and The Pakistani Vison of Beauty

The Pakistani idea of beauty is a very weird one indeed. I am not talking about the high society English magazines that litter the bookstalls, nor the burger-fied concept promoted by the western infidels (which comes down to the same thing)… but the desi vision of beauty, the kind that graces our local magazines like Jasoosi Digest, Khawateen Digest, Shuwaa, Pakeeza etc

Observe. Okay, so all of them are your run of the mill Khawateen Digests that my mum and my grandma reads.


Pfft. Usually, the models have out of focused eyes, overly made up faces and a “sexy” expression on their faces. See how “sexy” they look? Especially the top left and the bottom right one. WOOHOO!


Shani's sister's wedding in around 12 hours or so... This is Pakistan my Jaan.. NOTHING happens on time! HAHA! I got invited, you didn't. Not to mention that I've been assured time and time again that the menu will follow the traditional guidelines. These guidelines can be found here

Of Aisha Aki Ataka and Birthday Greetings

I love getting letters. Ask anyone who knows me and you'll find out that I go extremely hyper over mail.

I had a shitty day today. The details aren't important.

So I was sleeping like a log when my sister barges in and tells me I got a letter (I didn't go hyper). I went down and saw the postman standing at the gate (I still didn't go hyper). The post man gave me a letter. A yellow tiny envelope with this shocking red/pink tape sealing the flap.

AISHA AKI ATAKA sent me a Letter all the way from Japan.

(I went hyper)

So, she's gone to Japan for the time being and I wish I was there too. She even got to meet the bassist(?) of ORANGE RANGE. It's a big deal, though when she told me I treated it like an everyday occurrence (Hey, I was jealous *sad face* )

And I got into a fight with her. So I've been feeling bad about the fight for quite a while. I mean being an ass is cool and all... But the way I acted was excessive. Gomenasai Aisha-chan, Honto ni.

So I get the letter, which I came to realise was sent a few days before the fight. I got such a cute card. Loads and Loads of monkeys. YAY! and it had a comic strip on the front and a squeezed up letter on the back of the monkeys. I almost didn't notice the little wad of paper inside the envelope containing a small picture and a note about it. It was the best birthday wish so far. The monkeys have "Congrats" printed on their bellies

This was the highlight of my day! And Aisha, if you are reading this, Thank you, Really. I loved the letter/card/picture/envelope(stamp?).