Of What The Hell Did I Write Back Then

Making a comeback is hard. You have to will yourself to write meaning full shit. Well, somewhat meaningful. I mean, I never wrote stuff that shattered mountains or split lakes.

Anyways, Blogger brings out the narcissist in all of us with it’s tracking options.

Imagine my surprise when I saw this:

Apparently, I somehow struck a goldmine when I wrote the Fair Skin post (click on it if you haven’t read it or don’t remember it)

See, turns out that single post, got visits from all across the globe. 473 unique hits is a big deal for me. It’s the kind of thing that makes me happy to write more nonsense just for your entertainment.

Of Being Back… Probably

You are probably reading this because

A. You got it in your mail

B. You’ve subscribed to this blog, and this sudden update piqued your curiosity.

C. You stumbled upon this page by accident.

Either way, lets start by having a moment of silence for the most special person in my life.

Cocoa Beans was a truly remarkable cat. For 10 years, she was an integral part of our family. The glue that held shit together if you will. Like most cats on the internet, she loved boxes, preventing people from working, terrorising small animals and pretending she was human.

She was smart. Extremely smart. She could tell time just by looking at the clock, knowing whether or not it was safe to drag someone out of their bed for food or whether someone was late etc. She knew which days of the week were designated outing days for her… Hey, she was smarter than most cats I’ve seen.

This one time, she was sleeping in her box-lid bed on the parent’s bed. Half-asleep, dad kicked the box (including her) nearly off the bed. She got up, calmly stalked up to his face, slapped him hard and went back to sleep. Morning came and mum told us about the incident. Dad had an inch long gash running up his nose. Cocoa gave him her worst death glare, the kind that can be interpreted as “Come at me and I’ll fuck you up”

Sadly, all good times must end. Two years ago, she got lumps on her belly. The vet declared them to be benign cysts and removed them. They came back. Got them removed again. The third time they came back, he re-evaluated his earlier diagnosis and claimed that she had breast cancer. To make matters worse, he couldn’t operate on her again. The previous operations had removed many of her lymph nodes. Any more and her immunity would be compromised.

So the only option that remained was to keep her comfortable for as long as we could. When the time came, either she’d pass away on her own, or we’d have to put her to sleep.

That’s how she spent the last three months of her life. In a bloody collar. A collar that restricted her movement, caused her to bump in doorways, and made her push her box off the bed when she wanted to sleep in it.

Incidentally, this was the last time we watched Doctor Who together.

So anyways, During the end of October 2012, her wounds broke, and her condition got worse. She started to slow down. We rushed her to the vet, to try and stop the bleeding.

You know how you read about remarkable animals who do amazing feats? Well, she didn’t save Timmy from drowning in a well, but as the vet pointed out, she shouldn’t have been able to move for ages considering the condition of her wounds.

On the 1st of November, 2012, we had to put her to sleep. She fought hard, never showing us any weakness irrespective of the fact that she was in constant pain.

It’s been 6 months since then. I wonder if it gets any easier.

Thank you, for the wonderful time.

 

Now that I’ve successfully managed to ruin your mood, I think it’s safe to announce that I’ll be trying to make a comeback. Enough with the hiatuses.

Of Birthday Celebrations

This isn’t another post about how pathetic my birthdays go. I guess we have clearly established that.

What I want to talk about today is the way certain people perceive birthdays to be.

Yes, I am talking about the people who see birthdays as getting one year closer to death. These people are usually religious and/or believe in fate. For them, it is fixed when you will die. So naturally, they treat birthdays as a countdown…to DEATH.

Unfortunately, neither I nor any of my friends have a family such as the one I mentioned, so I am going to imagine a scenario as to how birthdays would go in a family such as that.

It would be a very depressing birthday. Every time someone would wish the kid a happy birthday, like clockwork the mother would start to cry. The father would look sorrowful. Utterly Depressing.

Now, in case you want to try this out with your kid, I have a few suggestions as to what you can get him/her as a present.

• A plot in the best graveyard you can afford. (It’s still real-estate.)
• Plant some nice trees next to said plot.
• Give away all his savings to charity (securing his ticket in heaven.)
• A trip by train to where-ever your religion permits you to make a pilgrimage to.
• A goat, cow, or camel to be sacrificed and the meat distributed to the poor.

You could also play fun games like “Lets-Meet-All-Your-Relatives” where you go to each relatives house and tearfully proclaim that your kid has one year less to live or “Who-cries-last” where someone puts happy birthday on loop, and you all listen to it.

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Seriously, to all the parents who refuse to celebrate their kids birthdays because it’s a celebration of being closer to death, you guys are idiots. With the level of crime and over all uncertainty of life that is increasing day by day, you should be celebrating life.

Of The Most Annoying Thing Couples Do

Being a third wheel sucks. But, it’s still bearable as long as the two people you are with don’t make you feel like you are the third wheel.

I should be studying for my exam. I really should.

So, instead of doing the right thing, I’ll make a post after nearly a year of silence.

I’ve been silent partially because of the shit load of work I need to do in uni, and partially because I hate the new blog template and the old one is obsolete so I can’t find it anymore.

Sorry, I was going to tell you that thing that couples do, that pisses me off. And this isn’t one of those “I saw one couple do this once upon a time so I will rant about it” – I constantly find various couples doing this.

Two options remain. Either I rant about it, and link them to this post. Or I start staying at home, like a hermit crab.

 

Keep in mind, the timer is purely cosmetic. There was no actual timer built into the couch.

So yeah. They merged into one dual-headed entity. Now, I don’t mind if you start sucking each other’s faces off. I’ll just leave, light up a cigarette and catch the next bus home. What really gets me is the conversation that follows.

Not only do they repeat each other’s sentences, which is like talking to a cave that echoes everything back. They act as if they’re an age old married couple that is there to offer sage advice. That, or I am sitting across them being cross-examined because I asked for their daughter’s hand in marriage.

If any third wheel is reading this, please share this link with that couple. You can thank me later.

Of Helment Cat

My cat gets really annoying at times. Really really annoying.

Of Billowing Clouds and Dust Bunnies.

Recently I started smoking again. Not a big deal you may say. I was matter of fact, clean for a whole freaking 5 years.

Well, firstly, I get bored by one brand pretty quickly. Hence my "bedsheet of fame" up there. Secondly, my folk found out about it.

Since the way they found out about it was amusing, I decided to do a post on this.

Yes I am self-centered.

Notice the carefully arranged boxes. There is a small box in the foreground. That stupid thing was the cause of the cat getting out of the bag.

Have you ever tried to keep a cat in a bag? I did once and the results were interesting. Cats don't like staying in bags. They jump out as soon as you put them in the bag. So, one must wonder, who the hell came up with this weird analogy?

Lets try that again.

That one stupid box was the one that spilled the beans.

Have you tried to spill a can of baked beans? I accidentally dropped an open can of Heinz's on the counter, that I just finished opening. Hardly two or three beans came out. Another weird analogy.

Someone in Uni told me how despite it's cheap price and butt ugly packaging, Capstain was a good brand. So, I being ever curious, decided to try it.

I remember smoking at midnight, an hour and half later I came down for water. Mum was up. Came to the kitchen to investigate what the racket was all about. 6 feet away, and her eyes narrowed into slits.

*sniff* *sniff*

"Cigarette pi hai?.....disgusting"

And she left. My mum could give Wolverine a run for his money.

So, come morning and mum refused to talk to me for the next week. When she did however start talking, the first thing she did was give me a pack of Gold Leaf (that she confisicated from my room a year ago, that I nicked off a uni friend of mine) Yeah. She gave me a year old pack of Gold Leaf. I have been handing out those old stale cigarettes to uni mates all day long. Hopefully that will deter them from begging for smokes.

My mum confuses me.

Of The Independence Day

Let me start off by telling anyone who is hoping for a review of the awesome Will Smith movie: “Here there be no aliens”

Today marks the 64th year of independence for Pakistan. 64 years of freedom. And every year, the same scenario takes place.

Right off the bat, at midnight, everyone in Karachi goes bat-shit insane! We have fireworks, drunken teenagers screaming and speeding down dark and deserted roads, gun-toting maniacs emptying their munitions into the air (which later falls back down with the gentle pitter-patter of pointy, hailstones – and we don’t have hailstones in Karachi)

At Sehri, I turned on the telly to hopefully catch a good movie. All I saw was religious banter, and the occasional patriotic song. One song in particular caught my attention. Or rather, one verse of that song.

“Chaand Meri Zameen, Phool Mera Watan”

Literally it means “Moon, my Land. Flower my Country”

Then I slept.

A recurring nightmare later, I woke up, and the logic was never clearer.

Due to some trans-dimensional rift in the fabric of our universe, we poor Pakistanis are not on Earth.

We are in fact on the moon. See, here’s where the song’s verse’s first half actually makes sense.

1. The Moon, has no water. Neither do we.
2. The Moon, has no electricity. Neither do we.
3. The Moon, has no gas. Neither do we.

We are definitely on the moon.

So we really can’t blame KESC, WAPDA, SUI or ZARDARI for any of our problems. It’s all about location, location, location.

We do however have one thing to be proud of.

Exactly….

Of Being Older Than Ever Before.

So, on Thursday I turned 23. Yippee.

Usually I am not one to celebrate said day since it tends to suck. But as luck would have it, one promise and events in the year gone by have made me realize that I was being stupid.

Made a promise to a friend who, if keeps up her antics won’t be in my circle for very long.

And as for the events, I live in Karachi. So I know how scary it is. Almost all the buses I usually travel in, I’ve seen two versions of. The okay and the extra toasty version. Nearly been run over more times than I can count, and generally evaded death like a good Pakistani should.

All this evasion of death has made me realize that I should celebrate having successfully completed a year in our awesome country.

Now, the day. Thursday was okay. I was expecting promise friend to call at midnight because that’s been our thing for the longest while. Guy from university calls instead. A few random wishes. Still no promise friend call. or text. or IM. or Facebook. or Google+ or any sort of wish. This pisses me off.

As for the presents. I didn’t get anything except an ear shattering argument, my university friends milking out all my dough, and meeting Shani. I did get a cake in the mail from a friend I haven’t talked to in the longest while. Which is funny really. Best Friend totally ignores the day, random person I haven’t spoken to in 3 years sends me a cake.

Oh well. Lets see if I can stay alive till 24. 

Of The Most Idiotic Rule Thus-far

With 90% of the male population being smokers, do you really think the tree is big enough?

Of My Greatest Flaw - Sort Of.

I hold a grudge. I honestly am not a very forgiving person.

That said I won't be able to forgive you if you don't give me a reason to.

Because I know of this flaw of mine if you truly mean anything to me, I'll keep giving you chances. But the longer you piss me off the harder it gets.

So if you've done something horrible and I ask you to do something for me, however simple. Please do not take it lightly. I'd rather have you in my life than hate you for the rest of it.

Technically this post is just for one person, who doesn't even visit this blog. So for all intents and purposes, this is a pointless post.

The rest of you, my faceless readers, don't have the presence necessary that this post apply to you.

Also. Today is a day of silence. In honor of a friend who is no longer with us.