Battery Acid

Mass Production Zone

2012-01-29T13:35:00.000+03:00

Down with revolution and nationalism and your patriotic identity no one gives a damn about. Damn the dictators and the criminals and the corruptors and the inflicters and the critics and the philosophers and poets and writers and demi-gods and the boyfriends and girlfriends and best friends and your hobbies and interests and likes and dislikes and your degree and your education and your career and your marriage and the house you live in and the car you drive and the shows you watch on TV and your little clickety clack gadgets. All man-made, all self-invented. You need nothing but the raw, naked earth. The classes and the creeds are self-illusions to make you feel better or worse. The construction worker in his dirty gloves and the chief architect in his shiny suit are the same. The money we created and the money we can destroy. Everything on the web will vanish with the blink of the deadliest virus injected by the virtual Satan. Screw everything, don't panic. Look at the biggest picture there is to look at and suck every ounce of it into your neurons. Everything you ever wanted will be there in your mind. Screw everything I'm saying and just head bang to this song. \m/

Vroom vroom.

2012-01-25T20:14:00.000+03:00

The real-life process of learning how to drive has taught me more than Need for Speed ever did. My brother can really scream like a girl and occasionally piss in his pants thinking I'm going to whack the car into a bus. Anyway my eardrums are still functional, all's well that end's well, and I can now officially drive through the streets of the 10th largest city in the world. If you can drive here, you can drive anywhere.

Yeah I'm rubbing it in.

Nothing can stop me now.

Except the depletion of petrol or a bunch of emotional protesters burning up the car because it somehow fixes the shit they're going through.

You Use the Forces of Nature, the Forces of Nature Use You

2012-01-04T13:01:00.000+03:00

I know for some of you finding your true love is an important deal, even worth all the pain and hurt you might give to one another in the process, but quite honestly -

Biology just designed all those love hormones so that you could end up reproducing and continue to raise the survival rate of the human specie.

Dance to Forget

2012-01-01T11:06:00.000+03:00

It's okay. Feel stupid. Be lonely. Feel unimportant. Get hurt. Feel pain. Have your hopes and dreams collapse in the palm of your hands. Don't be afraid. Die a mental death. Be born again. Die again if you want. Resume re-birth as if nothing ever happened. A customized resurrection. Live multiple lives in one body and multiple deaths in one mind. See everything again for the first time. Be a tourist to your homeland.

Now close your door and turn off the lights and dance. Dance to forget. There'll be more to remember again, soon.

Welcome to the Machine

2011-12-19T17:02:00.000+03:00

The secret to being selfless, is subtle doses of self-service when no one is watching. A quick humble meal for the stomach, a few thoughts to keep the brain busy and blinking; healthy laughter a few times of the day. Fuel for the magnetic core till it becomes inert and reaches maximum stability. Occasional portrayal of emotions to prevent alienation from rest of the world. Surpassing the traps that distract you from the simplicity of being alive. Nothing's complicated. Have no desire, no goal, no needs, no wants, no obsessions, no love, no hate, no blame, no judgement, no inspiration, no heroes. Synchronize with the simple fabric of space. Conquest of the self. The caffeine and the nicotine and the cold shots are shortcuts. No being sorry for yourself. Be your own reason of what you are. Don't become the machine. Become the master of it. And when you do, step up and ask them,

"How may I be of service to you?"

Zombies! Aliens! Vampires! Dinosaurs!

2011-10-07T17:58:00.000+03:00

There's nothing more annoying than trying to cheer up your friend after a break up that feels like the end of the world for them. You end up saying things you don't believe in. Cliche things. Movie dialogues. For a while you'll feel stupid even saying those lines, but the person is so depressed the only person who knows how lame you sound, is you. [The victim of depression has been sketched so in order to avoid any resemblance with any real human being so that I do not get kicked out of my social circle. Yeh right you sadasses know who you are].

Time doesn't really heal. Cake does.

It's not that you're special, it's statistics. There's gotta be someone you can find with mutual interests, out of 7 billion people in the world.

Some ego-inflation should fill that puncture in your heart.

Here you will get an awkward reply, like "I don't care if there's anyone better than him/her, he/she is all I ever wanted." You will know deep inside that it is cake that everyone really wants because cake is not a lie, but they don't know that yet and it's okay.

You will find yourself trying really hard to cheer them up but they will slap your face with miserable bouts of failure.

It costed 40 Rupees at the canteen which I could've spent on four Aloo ke Samosay for myself instead.

Responses from individual male and female victims of depression.

Oh well a few hundred calories more into my blood system.

I even make phone calls just to make sure they didn't do anything stupid in my absence, which is a big thing for me anyway because I hate phone calls, mostly because they're full of unnecessary conversation to avoid awkwardness.

I must be a good friend, I must be a good friend, I must be a good friend.

Break ups suck. Not because it makes the couple miserable, but even our lives. Please love each other carefully (don't give me that "I didn't mean to love, it just happened" - crap) and until you heal again, eat lots of cake and buy yourself a puppy becomes there's nothing more reliable of your love, than a puppy. Unless it dies. Now that's sad.

Shit.

Energy Diversion

2011-09-11T12:50:00.000+03:00

Stop it dude. Stop looking into the mirror again and again. In your home, in someone else's home, in the school bathrooms, in the coffee restrooms. Why is your image such a distraction. If you look good, you'll get a few upbeat remarks, feel good about yourself for a few minutes, and that's it. If you don't look good, no one will say anything and you can just move on with more important things.

Stop fidgeting with your freakin' hair. It's hair strongly attached to your head, it won't fall off if you stop touching it. Stop being touchy about it. I will ruffle your hair or give you a nudgie if I want to, however neat your hair is that morning, so deal with it.

Stop spending all your money on face washes. You know they don't work. You know the pimples will go when they want to go and there's nothing you can do about it so just let it go and let it be.

Stop wearing clothes that are completely uncomfortable to wear but you wear them because they look good.

Stop being so self-afflicting and fidgety and chaotic and self-conscious in all the wrong areas. Nobody cares about those insignificant things. Those who do just need to get laid. So calm down. You're pleasant when you're calm.

Give your brain a rest. You must be tired. When you're done, there're way bigger things out there to worry about, worth the energy.

Dancing Dice

2011-09-02T07:37:00.000+03:00

Do you ever have a good time with a stranger that you only met once, than you would with the people you see every day of your life?

I still think of this little girl back in Riyadh, sitting at her window, who'd vigorously flail her arms around to say hello to me in a language I wouldn't understand, and I'd wave back in a language she wouldn't understand either. But we randomly waved and smiled and laughed every time we spotted each other as if we had known each other for years. I still think of that old woman who sat next to me on a plane and told me about all her children getting married, leaving her to live alone by herself. I still think of that taxi driver who sang Akon songs in front of my mum for which she called him an ullu ka patha.

Everyone doesn't always have to be in your Facebook list. You don't always have to know their names and phone numbers. Let half the people in your life be strangers that you only see for the first and last time. You will like the world more that way, and for some reason always think of them, even though they had no life-turning impact on your life.

I'm so glad I don't know more than half the people following this blog. Take it as a compliment.

Orange.

2011-08-27T18:43:00.000+03:00

If you went to heaven and found out you were the only one there, would you spend the rest of eternity all by yourself, or join the others in hell?

Silly Things

2011-07-13T06:25:00.000+03:00

Television always told me that the calcium in milk is good for teeth, so as a kid I'd keep a mouthful residue of milk and leave it in my mouth for 5 minutes to be absorbed by my teeth.

What silly things did you do as a kid?

Guide to a Badass Galaxy

2011-07-04T11:08:00.002+03:00

Hello class. Oh please no need to stand up. Do sit down.
Today we shall be discussing about all those badass things in the world, that have been given a reputation of being sissy and girly, by the television and virtual media that have succeeded in misleading you. Yes peeps. Today is all about unicorns, rainbows, skittles and butterflies. That's right. Badass - unicorns, rainbows, skittles and butterflies.

Let's start with unicorns. This is what they make you think a unicorn is.

Lalala I'm a fake unicorn that plays with the cat in Hello Kitty and ponies from My Little Pony.

This is what a unicorn actually looks like.

That's right. I'm the badass unicorn with a diamond-tipped horn that can fork out eyeballs out of sockets and turn them into eye candy. Get it?! Eye candy! Omg I'm so funny.

This is the unicorn Voldemort will use to sustain his partially mortal life. This is the unicorn whose horn holds the powers of eradicating cancer. But ah. Just when you thought it couldn't get better. Unicorns shall become more badass when I present to you...

The Black Unicorn.

Ponies love meh but I don't give lift cuz I too badass for fluffy pony.

This is the unicorn that will not only save you from being raped, but even rape the rapist back. This is the unicorn Batman rides on when his batmobile is under maintenance. This is the unicorn that hides where even the werewolves won't find it, while it secretly headbangs to death metal and watches X-rated movies.

Damn, ate too much Awesomeness.

Next we have, rainbows. An epic result of simple physics; I've no idea how it turned into a symbol of sissy. Since it is additionally made out of unicorn fart, and we just agreed on how the unicorn is badass, the rainbow naturally becomes a part of the badass family. If rainbows weren't badass, Pink Floyd would not have used the concept of the light spectrum on their album cover, and Radiohead would not have bothered labelling an entire album in its name.

Dark Side of the Moon - Pink Floyd / In Rainbows - Radiohead.

Skittles. Also known as unicorn poop. The only kind of poop you won't hesitate to gulp down. The unicorn today is nice enough to have its poop processed into crispy nitrogen-filled packets for your convenience. But Skittles go way back, before the concept of packaging was invented. These pellets of unicorn poop were discovered in exotic Amazon rainforests and African jungles, by our ancestral tribes. It was these bullets of mysterious doodoos that they used to get high on while dancing around a fire, and thus transition into a trance-like state to communicate with their gods. Side effects included rapid cure from depression, extreme levels of rapture, uncontrollable jumping, and superhuman feelings of nothing-is-impossible which led to remarkable architecture we know today as great Egyptian pyramids and Aztec temples. Skittles is the only drug known today that won't cause trouble if caught in your pocket.

Last, we have butterflies. They look like happy fluttering kites but taste like bitter venom. Yes, I have personally eaten them.

With my colour combination of fire orange and death black, I am a symbol of hell's warning to mankind.

These petty creatures have been known to have the flap of their wings contribute to tornadoes and hurricanes.

Bangladesh Cyclone, 1991, 138 866 gone.

Hurricane Jeanne, 2004, 5000 deaths.

Cyclone Nargis, 2008, 146 000 wiped out.

These butterflies are out to kill the crap out of you.

Thus ends our badass class for today. Your homework is to find as many other forms you can, of things that are badass but fail to be appreciated by us, or are sugarcoated in exaggerated layers of pink icing. Note: Anyone who writes "Barbie" will be personally slaughtered by my Black Unicorn. See you in next class.

Aawish.

2011-07-02T12:56:00.000+03:00

We find it natural to feel sorry for handicapped people, when it should oddly enough, be the other way. The more of the five senses you have, the more disordered you are. A blind man will always have a more colourful thought than the man who only learnt seven colours at school. A deaf man will never hear evil; a dumb man will never speak it. Their world will always be simpler, cleaner, free from the irrelevances that the five senses make our brains absorb.

It is our brain that can only go as far as the eyes can see and the ears can hear. It is us who are the handicapped.

It is us they should be sorry for.

Vanilla Ice

2011-06-06T17:08:00.000+03:00

I went to the polar ice caps last week. I won’t brag, but you have not lived completely if you haven’t been there. I tap danced with penguins under aurora disco lights and dipped my feet in icy cold water while baby sea lions nibbled at my toes; went to sleep where a polar bear might’ve hibernated last winter; woke up with crunchy icicles in my hair.

Came back last night. The salt in my sweat from the heat here, tastes like the snow of the cold there. Weird.

You should go too. It’s free anyway. The human brain can be a fun place to be when the physical world disappoints you.

Wisdom from a Children's Book

2011-05-22T09:42:00.001+03:00

Being Nietzsche

2011-04-17T21:19:00.000+03:00

Hearing range: 20 - 20000 Hz.
Visible spectrum range: 380 - 740 nm.

There's a huge possibility everything we see and hear is an illusion - it's just the same for all of us.

Summer Shalwar

2011-02-20T11:43:00.000+03:00

Since I'm still in the oh-my-God-I'm-in-love-with-Karachi phase, today we shall discuss the icon wonders of one of our national clothes - the Shalwar. For those unaware of the Shalwar, it's a pair of fluffy, airy trousers that look as if someone tore down their curtains and pinned the drapes together to make this bigass wearable thing, where 80% of the volume in it consists of air. Behold - my cartoon version wearing a shalwar.

Quick Note: I'm not as hot in real life as I look in this picture. Please refrain from falling in love with me.

Now we all know what a Shalwar is. Next - its wonders.

There's a building on fire. Theres no way to escape but to jump from the highest story. It's a matter of life and death. If luck is on your side, you'd be wearing a Shalwar.

Awesome shalwar transforms into parachute by providing abundant air friction due to its surface area and thus saves lives.

Next. A sailing boat has just suffered massive destruction after surviving a sea storm. No oars to row the boat; the sails have been ripped out by the wind. If luck is on your side, you'd be wearing a Shalwar.

Awesome Shalwar transforms into makeshift sail - with its flexible and environment-friendly material, allows safe arrival of the boat to the desired destination.

Suddenly, Superman encounters a turmoil.

Awesome Shalwar saves Superman's reputation.

It's a moment the entire world is waiting for, watching every update on their television screens. Man is setting foot on the moon again.

Awesome Shalwar acts as flag and prevents further competition between US and Russia. Shalwar deserves Nobel Peace Prize.

This summer, buy all the Shalwars you can, in the nearest store by you.

Banana

2011-01-30T08:01:00.000+03:00

The other day I went to get my National Identity Card made. My brother reminded me how the place there would be full of culture-abiding people who wear traditional clothes and stuff, so I decided to fit in and do the same to avoid being unnecessarily stared at. Inspite of all my efforts, the she's-an-outsider factor still seemed to amuse all the people there. Since the damage was already done and my desi disguise had gone down the drain, I thought I might as well have some fun with it. Whenever a dude started staring, I'd go like:

Dudes are one thing. When women stare at you it's even scarier. So whenever a woman gave me the stink eye, I took it up a notch and asked:

I think Karachi likes me.

Transaction

2011-01-10T19:35:00.002+03:00

We were poor in a rich country,
now rich in a poor country.

Pot Tea

2010-12-30T16:25:00.001+03:00

Back in Saudi Arabia, we always used a shower thing after answering a call of nature, that looks something like this.

Here in Pakistan, and probably in India, majority of us use Lota's. For those who don't know what a Lota is, it's a container shaped like a teapot except instead of pouring tea from it into a teacup, we pour water from it over our personal territories after answering the call of nature. Here have a look.

The reason I admire these Lota's roots back to my obsession with saving natural resources and thus rescuing the planet from self-destruction blablablah. -[insert optimistic stuff that will never turn into reality]-

See if you're using the shower thing instead, you're unaware about the amount of water you're using and since the tickling feeling of pressurized water is amusingly tranquil you'll leave the shower on longer than you require and thus waste more water.

But Lota's? Awesome Lota's? They just get straight to the point. Keep it short, concise, definite. We should all have our own customized Lota's, like we personify our laptops and iPods and phones and other fancy stuff. Here are a few samples I made. Help yourselves.

This one's already mine. The Damnation Lota.

The Simba Lota.

The Trollin' Lota.

The What-a-beautiful-day-today Lota.

Make them teapots jealous. They do nothing brave.

Let your Lota define you. And may the Force be with you.

Jelly Beans

2010-12-25T20:12:00.003+03:00

Extremists are everywhere. The only difference between Pakistan's extremists and every other country's extremists, is that our extremists love being on BBC World headlines.

I'm an official, permanent resident of Pakistan now. Before moving, I got a mail from the British Council giving me a list of 23 reasons I shouldn't be living in Pakistan. If I ever go abroad, it'd be no surprise for me to encounter a non-Pakistani in touch with the news who might think I'm a terrorist, with the added effect of having a background in Saudi Arabia.

Yeah okay that went a bit far. But I can't even ask you foreigners not to be scared of us cuz sometimes the most unexpected, educated of us end up in New York to bomb up Time Square. But hey we're not all like that. Like me. [Kicking your brother's balls is a different story. It's sadistic play, not violence]. The most explosive thing I could do is ride on a sleigh with Santa tonight and fart bubbles of laughing gas upon earthlings.

Talking about Santa, I'm so fat now, I broke my brother's chair by sitting on it with a hyper jump. Being fat is powerful. High five fatso's.

Sunday Report (1) with Blob the Marsporter

2010-11-28T12:20:00.004+03:00

The single Homo Sapiens specie is accountable to more diversity than any of the remaining million species of the planet combined together.

My first observation was that humans are in a hurry. They need machines to save their time. But the creators of these machines fell in love with their creation and transferred all their abilities to them. Now their creation controls them with puppet strings. Humans know this, but find it too late to reverse.

Their architecture is impressive. They have far exceeded the days of mud and straw. But every tower I see seems to have something in common. They're all trying to be higher than the previous ones. They're all racing for the end of the skyline; wonder how many still have contact with the ground. There seems to be a concept that bigger is better.

Inventions renowned today will be overrun by their better models tomorrow. Perfection becomes insufficient all over again.

Most Humans struggle to look attractive. Very few remain beautiful. Wonder why they took the trouble. They looked just fine to me.

Many shout, few speak. Many listen, few comprehend.

All are at war. Against disease, a natural disaster, temptation, a threat to a possession or opinion, plain intolerance of another's existence, or just fighting for peace itself. These battles don’t stop. It would be a waste of skill and weaponry. According to some, purpose. Earth is the leading battlefield of this cosmos.

They have labelled everything into classes, putting things under microscopes, watching things through telescopes.

Wonder if they knew some day they'd be the specimen under the glass slide.

Blob the Marsporter

2010-11-27T15:49:00.006+03:00

Say hi to Blob.

Blob from Mars. He was assigned by his fellow species back at home to travel to Earth and send reports about Humans every week. Due to a slight leak in the electromagnetic signal that channels Earth to Mars, we have access to these weekly reports, and shall publish each one till the end of Blob's mission.

Blob writes reports every P7y-!d3un according to the Mars calendar. That means every Sunday, in earth terms.

His first report is due tomorrow.

We anxiously await what Blob has to say about us.

Non-Biodegradable Book of Deeds

2010-11-19T11:46:00.005+03:00

How many of you are planning to have children?

Nice. Okay.

How many of you think you will still be active on Facebook 15 years from now?

Of course. What kind of question was that.

You see, we're pathetic. From the looks of it, we're going to be parents who will still log into Facebook to feel the apparent warmth of social and virtual recognition, even after the hustle and bustle of career-making and marriage and kids. Before we know it our kids have joined Facebook too and now have access to a huge chunk of our pre-marital past with a single click of wall-to-walls and profile pictures. There will be times when you will tell your kids the way they are talking is very obscene and inappropriate, and they will say, "But you talked like that on Facebook when you were a kid."

Here is an imaginary page of my future kid's Facebook profile, to show you the upcoming revolution in parenting skills, that is Facebook. Your account lives on even after you die. It's like your book of deeds left behind on earth, to be stalked by your children, your children's children, their children.

There's no escape. From now on, when on Facebook, instead of thinking to yourself you might be screwed if your parents find out what you're doing, think what your kids are going to feel. If you want your kids to be awesome, act now and leave awesome stuff on your page. Post links of great events, great men, speakers, writers, artists, scientists, great musicians [they will desperately need guidance the way MTV shall mislead them], stop flirting with people for past time flicks, avoid profile pictures with lip-pouting and guitar-posing or sitting on someone else's badass car, definitely avoid statuses screaming volumes of emoness and pain from your latest breakup cuz you don't want your kid to be a whiner.

Are you logged into Facebook right now?

Your kid is watching you.

How My Unicorn Was Murdered

2010-11-12T19:17:00.008+03:00

I used to think I was an extrovert. Most of you would think so too. I was wrong. We were all wrong.

The following illustrations are based on a true story. The girl on the left is me of course, since my doodle version never likes to change out of her lime-green top.

I understand there are many times when people aren't doing the actual talking; their hormones are. Hormones are natural. They bring a lot of good people down. It was best to ignore everything I'd just heard.

But later that night -

*Happy Beethoven music*

*Happy classical music interrupted by abrupt Jaws music*

I woke up with a fever, and imaginary unicorn blood all over my hands.

Click this title. You shan't regret it.

2010-10-25T16:30:00.001+03:00

Telescope from Eden

2010-10-23T18:46:00.003+03:00

It's only a physical death.

Soon she will become a part of the dead soil that will give life to a green shoot that will burst out of the ground and take her first breath as a new being.

Soon someone will walk by her and say, "Hey. Now that's one beautiful tree."

And I will say, "You should've seen her when she was my cat."

To the cat who let me dig my face into her tummy while the rest told me open my eyes and see the disasters of human existence outside my box.

Jimi Hendrix, rest in peace you little furball.

Your favorite spot on my pillow is still there if you decide to come back.

Stripes

2010-10-17T10:16:00.002+03:00

We find tigers more beautiful than sheep, yet we prefer them behind bars.

Peanut Butter Post That Has Nothing to do with Peanut Butter

2010-10-12T15:40:00.009+03:00

For some reason I've always had rape dreams. But in each dream, the guy never, ever, is able to actually get to the process. Something always comes up. In one, the guy was this close to doing it, but thought I'm too cute to be raped, so he let me go. In another, I was being chased down by a rapist AND a murderer, but then they thought they're both coming in each other's way, so the rapist raped the murderer and then the murderer stabbed the rapist instead and I was all, "Heh, suckers."

Since my dreams have a habit of always coming true, I'm mentally prepared for any such incident to occur in reality. Everyone thinks optimists live in a false world and hope things that can never come true, but personally I think my tactic is very practical and has high chances of working. I suggest every other potential rape-victim to do the same thing. It doesn't matter how stupid you look. The key point is to survive. It's all about survival.

Rapist corners you into a wall. Ready to take you down. You say...

Give a dramatic pause. Shut your eyes. Pretend like you're struggling to say something you need strength to say. And then tell him...

Okay no don't look so happy. Be more like this.

If you're cute like me, it should hopefully work. If it doesn't, well um. You really might get AIDS and you can pass it on to the next rapist. Yay?

Mr. Roboto II

2010-10-09T14:18:00.004+03:00

I want to be a robot. Robots are cool. Robots are awesome. I will stir a cauldron of iron bolts and laser cubes and melt the contents in dragon breath and sip away my liquid fire beverage and dissolve my cytoplasm into matrix metalloid and wake up a robot. Robots are cool. Robots are awesome. Robots don't cry. Robots do what they were designed to do. Robots don't observe. Robots record.

Tales of the Pearl White Throne II

2010-10-04T10:12:00.002+03:00

One of the staff members went to the bathroom to answer the call of nature.

I deliberately followed and made myself a cup of coffee, and in the process heard the splashing of water and ruffling of pants being pulled up and organic contents being flushed down.

When you can't be king, you make sure no one can take the crown either.

Tales of the Pearl White Throne

2010-09-30T15:46:00.000+03:00

There's something awkward about sharing your office toilet with your boss-and-two-co-workers, nothing else can compete with.

The other day I stepped into the room where all the magic happens. The bathroom of course. I lock the door, excited to finally let all my tensions out after quite a lot of waiting. But then I see a thick, dark, tiny, yet deadly, curled up strand of hair on my white throne. There were a lot of questions I wish I had answers to. Where did it come from? Who does it belong to? Should I give it back to its owner? How am I going to sit on this seat now?

Let's censor what the fate of the tiny hair strand was, and skip to the actual process of my magic-making moment.

Just when I was about to pee, I hear someone outside the door, making a cup of coffee.

Now see. Even though peeing is the only beautiful and calming sound the biological system has the ability to make, it's only supposed to be relished by the one making it. You don't want to make that sound when you know someone can hear it through the door. So I pee-ed - drop by drop. Trying to control the urge to let it out in one go. The frustration. The resistance. The physical pressures.

I came out as a whole, new, different person.

Everyone has a throne. Not everyone is the king.

Relationship Status: It's Facked

2010-09-25T12:04:00.014+03:00

When two people start living together in one house, whoever they are, in what ever way they are related, without noticing and without intending, they start to behave like a couple.

For the past 2 months, and the next 3, my loyalties lie with my new girlfriend - Mum.

I will receive a minimum of 3 calls while I'm at work, which comprise of subjects such as what I had for breakfast, how stuff is going at work, if I managed to pay the electricity bill, and then end with brief 'love you too's.

Then I will come home from work and she will ask me a million questions I am too tired to answer, but she will think I'm not in a good mood and don't want to give her any attention so she will boycott me for a while.

Then I'll feel bad, swallow in my exhaustion and tell her how my day at work went. Everything is forgotten with a few smiles and we watch the Simpsons and talk about how fast the cats have grown and play Scrabble [where I always end up with letters that are going to make inappropriate words].

But then we will be in the car and a Rolls Royce will stream past our window and I will tell mum to stop staring at because it will just make the owner feel more proud, and then she will tell me she just wants to see if the little metal figure on the front bumper is a human or an animal, and then we start arguing for absolutely no reason.

If you thought you were single, you were very wrong. We all have some kind of 'couple-like' relationship with someone, whether they're your brother or sister, mother or father, [additional to my case, cat or plant], homie or roomie. The husband/wife or boyfriend/girlfriend thing is just a very minor case in this huge pool of commitment.

Now will the real single shady, please stand up?

Mr. Roboto

2010-09-18T12:55:00.007+03:00

We are tiny bacterial spores, floating in a water of bubbles. Billions of years ago it was the bottom of an ocean. We've travelled a lot of waters. We met the vicious monsters of the sea and the heavy creatures of the land. We survived rocks of fire that fell out of the sky. We made it through the sharp sheets of ice. We tasted the sweat of Columbus and the blood of Vikings. We fed on ships of battle and voyage, sunk ten thousand feet beneath the sea. We watched a holy man walk upon our surface like liquid glitter.

We are tiny bacterial spores, floating in a water of bubbles. Billions of years ago it was the bottom of an ocean. Today it is a fish tank. Fingers poke at the glass. Fingers of hands that struck stone and made fire and melted metal and built machines. Heart of human; brain - IBM. Machines to save their lives. Machines de-humanize.

In the Name of Rock, Cows and Fish

2010-08-26T05:49:00.004+03:00

Dear sexy women.

You are very beautiful women, but when you grab a guitar which doesn't belong to you, neither you know how to play, and when you sleazily pose with it to give yourselves a very artificial "rockstar- image", I hope you are aware of the Curse of the late legends, Stevie Ray to Frank Zappa, Jimi Hendrix to Jeff Healey, who dedicated their lives to build a culture and era that you threw a bucket of garbage juice over, with one snapshot of your friend's camera.

I also don't like your leather handbags that look like extended versions of pencil cases.

1. You killed a cow for something that tiny.
2. You insulted the cow by making something that ugly.
3. I think cows would prefer being killed in the name of things much more majestic. Instead, the future offspring of that cow's bloodline will remember him as the cow who became a tiny purple purse.

There's an alternative option called a pocket; you can find it at the side of your jeans.

And most of all. Some one please teach me the art of pouting. I tried doing it, but I looked like a fish with inappropriate facial expressions.

Hit me back. So long, sexehs!

This may not be a happy poem.

2010-08-24T10:25:00.011+03:00

Tiger stripes and zigzag pipes
Flakes of brass
Crisp apple strings
Milk dodo wings
Sealion splashes
Spots and dots
Zips and slashes
Drippling cones
Moons in pupils
Happy drops
Ninjas on thrones
All jumping clowns
Swimming through towns
And space stations
Silicon dipped brains
Moss between bricks
And giants' toes
Honey beanstalks
Pandora's box
Every one a clown
The cities and towns
A Roman theatre
Opera masks
Hiding the past
Pierced and marked
Paint hiding the dark
There's still laughing,
Jumping
Screaming.

Welcome to the Circus show.

All outside my bedroom window.

Tickets finish at the end of world.

My entire life in a nutshell.

2010-08-22T15:20:00.003+03:00

Free Hug Campaign

2010-08-16T10:18:00.004+03:00

I love fat people. Like, really fat people. The ones that allow your arms to cover only half of their circumference if you hug them. I love how they accept it, take pride in it, and carry on with their lives like any normal person would, and don't let the blubber stop them. I could marry every fat person on this planet and cook for them all day and read them stories and buy them puppies. Fat people have a big heart too. A ginormous one, you don't usually find in thin people.

But since everyone wants the sheek, curvy ladies and the studbeat, alpha men, I'm thinking to open up a Free Hug campaign for fat people. I'm going to give free hugs to all of you, in what ever quantity you want. Doesn't matter what nationality you have or what religion you follow or what history you've gone through. You don't need to fill any forms or provide any sort of identification. Your only requirement is to be really fat. Just come and get your hug.

Who's next?

XX x XY = XX Part II

2010-08-05T09:52:00.019+03:00

Guess what! I finally got my first kind of public criticism. Always wanted to enter my brother's league [=p]. If you scroll over to the cbox on the right side of this page, you will find me being accused of spreading homosexuality. If it makes my accusers content, note down I live in Saudi Arabia and I can easily be executed by what means you think will give you more pleasure. You can get me:

a) Hanged [bit like bungee jumping! Except you die.]

b) Head chopped [Bhai, you can hang my head on your wall, like they do with moose.]

c) Stoned [cuz I rock]

d) Flogged [I'll get famous on Youtube]

e) All the above...if it bugs you that much?

So I'll die a wretched death and you can snuggle into your couch satisfied with your life and you'll live happily ever after. Neeeext.

Let's picture a world where the forces of nature made homos the norm, and hetros the outcasts.

NormalHomoGirl: Ew. You're in love with a GUY? But guys are hairy and smelly and big and dominating and -

GirlInLoveWithGuy: - that's all from the outside! Inside he has the biggest heart I've ever seen.

NormalHomoGirl: You're crazy. How are you going to tell your parents?

GirlInLoveWithGuy: I didn't ask to be this way. If parents can love children and kids can love animals and boys can love sport and girls can love inanimate things, and find nothing wrong in that, why should any kind of bond be excluded?

I'm not promoting homosexuality. I'm not being a dictator and starting a compulsive mass-conversion of hetros to homos. "You HAVE to divorce your husband and marry this woman or else I shall blow you up!" No.

This has nothing even remotely to do with sexual orientations.

I'm just trying to make you realize, that you believe all your beliefs and opinions to be so righteous and perfect, anyone else who's the tad bit different, cannot deserve to be called human. You don't know that that right there just stripped all the humanity off you.

You can't hate people for loving people. Your hatred is not healing anything, just adding Jalapeno hot sauce to the cut.

For one particular custom of your religion [which you should also go through again - homosexuals themselves are not condemned, but their acts if they practice it and don't try fighting it], you cannot forget the entire message it was trying to give you in the first place.

All I ask for is a pinch of heart from your strictly-rule-abiding selves, for those who might've lost their way. It's easy to follow something you know you don't have to struggle for.

Unfortunately, to think outside the box, there needs to be thinking from the inside, first. So I guess I'll just continue staring at these empty boxes for some more time.

Fill them up already, or else we'll have to send these boxes for recycling.

The Plant Called It

2010-08-02T11:13:00.011+03:00

My new best friend is a potted plant sitting on my office desk, and I have named it - It. Yes, truly creative of me.

It is a very intellectual vegetative being. A few moments ago, we talked about how nobody bothers questioning Happiness, they just grab it and consume it. But when Sadness pays a visit? Nakhray hi nakhray [insert cool Urdu accent]. Duh it will sting you if you welcome it that rudely. So It and I decided we're going to welcome sadness more warmly next time, the same way we treat Happiness. Disco in the bedroom, laughing even if nothing funny happened, wear fuzzy shoes, skip and hop like a lamb, thick mugs of coffee in front of the telly, yada yada yada, Sadness will get bored of you after some time and eventually decide to catch a cab and make it to another block.

It and I will let you know how it worked out. I like It. I'm going to try to draw It, so you guys can see what it looks like. Hold on.

"It! Stand still."

*minute later*

Okay! *wipes forehead*

As you can see, we have a lot in common. We both look too young for our age, and always wear green. We are like Yin and Yang. It breathes my carbon dioxide, I breathe its oxygen. We exemplify the Circle of Life, that moves us all, through despair and hope, through faith and love, till we find our way, on the path unwinding, in the Circle, the Circle of Life.

*abruptly breaks into tribal African dance around a ring of fire in the office*

*Boss enters*

Flash

2010-07-29T12:07:00.003+03:00

A hundred and fifty two volts of energy turned to bullets of sparks that showered over the people like a thousand floating pollen grains and were breathed into their lungs and conscience with the anticipation that a hundred and fifty two dreams and legacies will be passed on, and continue to live, non-biodegradably.

They called it the news of death.

But it quietly made them more alive.

Riddle

2010-07-27T11:04:00.002+03:00

It's a funny country.

You need money to stay.

You need money to go.

You have no money.

Where do you go?

XX x XY = XX

2010-07-26T13:34:00.005+03:00

If you're a hetrosexual, I'm sorry to tell you, you're actually a homosexual.

And if you're a homo, I've got good news for you. You're actually a hetro.

For an average, typical, hetro girl, the ideal-man list will consist of things like these:

Sensitive and caring.
Plays hide-and-seek with children.
Non-smoker.
Tells you how beautiful you look, even if you don't.
Helps you paint your toenails.
Cooks and cleans.
Expresses his love by buying you accessories and teddy bear keychains to hang on your endless supply of handbags.
Occasionally cries.
Gives charity to an orphanage.
Changes his Facebook status to Engaged/Married.

*Yawn*

If you're an average, typical, hetro boy, your ideal-woman list is somewhat:

Playing and watching the same sports you do.
Nearly beats you in a game of Call Of Duty.
Listens to rock/metal.
Doesn't cry.
Doesn't spend hours on her makeup and propping her hair before going out to dinner.
Does not constantly compare you with Edward Cullen.
Won't throw her hairdryer on you if you tell her about your celebrity crushes.
Doesn't care if her nail broke.
Does not brag on and on about her weight issues when you know she's just fine as she is.

So basically, girls unknowingly want their boys to have all the attributes concentrated in girls, and boys want their girls to have all the attributes concentrated in boys.

You really want someone that's the physical opposite of you, but mentally of the same gender.

All this time you were pointing at the homos, and you turned out to be one yourself.

You suck =p.

High fives to the homos. You know what you want. Go get 'em, tigers.

2010-07-23T15:40:00.003+03:00

And so the man
content
to go to heaven
alone,
never went
to heaven.

One of those questions I need to know the answer of or else I can't function in my office.

2010-07-20T13:43:00.002+03:00

Where do the Kings of Saudi Arabia do their grocery shopping?

TH-language

2010-07-20T10:39:00.004+03:00

earth

heart

Naughty Radio

2010-07-18T06:35:00.009+03:00

In a cab where the radio switches to another frequency on its own, everytime the car jerks over a speed breaker.

"-next up we have Nancy Arjam's latest hit single-"

*car jerk*

"- in the name of Allah, the most gracious, the most-"

*car jerk*

"-dark chocolate cake that will leave your kids-"

*car jerk*

"-by no means shall you attain righteousness-"

*car jerk*

"-the next song coming up, is a new-"

*car jerk*

"-in other news, polar bears in the North of-"

*car jerk*

"-oh but baby I love you-"

*switch off radio*

Sterioisomers

2010-07-15T10:27:00.010+03:00

So seriously. I'm telling you guys. There's no point in the constant battle of Evolution vs. Adam&Eve. There's something much greater we can waste time on. It's called Biotic Sterioisomerism - basically a theory I made up to emphasize on how we are connected to everything, no matter how small or ugly or insignificant. By proving we are all connected to everything, we could somehow acknowledge the fact that we are all interdependent on each other, even with things we never deemed possible.

So I did an experiment to prove this hypothesis. Note: no animals were harmed or abused in any way during this experiment.

By placing parts of my face in awkward spatial dimensions, I proved we can look like any specie of the animal kingdom. Let's have a look.

A toad.

A bat.

A bulldog.

A queen bee.

A cockroach.

A meerkat.

What d'ya say? Connected or what? Huh huh? =D

Meray paas bangla hai, gaari hai, paisa hai, tumharay pass kia hai? Meray paas socks hein.

2010-07-12T15:35:00.005+03:00

People don't believe me when I tell them the secret to all my powers, are my rainbow socks. It's a pretty simple thing. You walk on the planet with your feet. When you're tired, you look down. When you're sad, you look down. When you're ashamed - you look down. So whenever I look down, I see rainbow socks.

Fire your therapist, throw away your anti-depressants [they can grow into a drug beanstalk! =D], forget that expensive shirt or those hot pair of jeans. Buy yourself a cheap pair of flashy socks, and walk the Earth with flying colours.

Patient Planet

2010-07-12T15:26:00.003+03:00

''I'm sorry. She won't make it much longer.''

Gold Fish

2010-07-08T11:30:00.005+03:00

If the Divine is found through ablution,
Frogs and fish would find Him first.

Alice in Chains

2010-07-04T15:52:00.001+03:00

There are movies that are more amusing as trailers than the actual clip, music that only sounds good when you hear it for the first time on the radio, and never again, people you think you’d like more if you had known them less.

Absolute freedom and a prison cell have a lot in common. When you have the authority to do whatever the hell you want after years and years of waiting for it, you get imprisoned by the same consciousness you were using to get accustomed to the wait, in the first place. Soon you forget why you wanted to be free at all and being bound to chains was not that bad. The chains gave you security, and told you that anyone can be Iron Man. The prison walls remind you that the world outside that fence is running without you, and while they run, you are the king within your walls, no one knows about.

There are some important things I learned recently.

People who get bored quickly are generally boring people themselves.

The base of all good things, are all bad things.

The more you see, the less you know – that’s why kids make more sense than adults sometimes.

The concept of genders, is pathetic. Men and women should forget they are men and women, and as a neutral biological figure, selectively pick out the best in women and the best in men. That doesn’t mean you men go out and buy yourselves a pair of bosoms, though.

I have six months of absolute freedom before my first semester at uni starts. For the next 5 years, I will be studying a course I don’t want to, and will have to struggle to want to, for the sake of an unknown person somewhere on this planet who wanted to be an architect, but couldn’t. Maybe I’ll build what you wanted to get built, and since we’re all bound by chains, you, me, whoever builds it, will not make a difference.

That, is what you call freedom, in a prison cell.

Chocolate That Never Melts

2010-06-26T11:33:00.005+03:00

Do you ever have one of those dreams that make you go all “HUH?” when you wake up?

I once dreamt I got kidnapped by my school guard. I was a prisoner in his house. Now usually, when you’re a kid, you dream of houses made of candies and skittles with chocolate rivers flowing out of taps. The house I was imprisoned in, was…different. Not candy. Not skittles. Not chocolate. Not pizzas.

Poop.

Yeah, poop.

Like. Yeah. Seriously. Poop.

The whole frikkin’ house was made of poop.

The kidnapper was in his kitchen of poop-tiles and making me breakfast in a pan made of poop. Guess what he was cooking for me.

POOP, of course.

And since the plates and cutlery were made of poop too, at the end of the meal we get to eat them up as well.

This whole time I thought God was sending me secret messages through my dreams, and then the poop comes up. It either meant I’m going to get into deep shit soon, or man will run out of all the natural resources of the earth, except his own.

I'm so accustomed to poop now, I can become one of those people at the hospitals who takes people's poop samples and tests them for any potential diseases and thus save millions of lives from the forces of bacterial crime and evil and die a happy poop-sample-taker.

Every job is secretly beautiful.

Shelium, Shydrogen.

2010-06-22T00:52:00.006+03:00

When they say I'm like a Sun, I can't help but picture myself as this.

The White Knight

2010-05-26T21:31:00.002+03:00

"In my dream, the world had suffered a terrible disaster. A black haze shut out the sun, and the darkness was alive with the moans and screams of wounded people. Suddenly, a small light glowed. A candle flickered into life, symbol of hope for millions. A single tiny candle, shining in the ugly dark. I laughed and blew it out."

- The Joker.

I got tired of painting walls.
. _________ .

My Juicy Comic Strip

2010-05-26T16:11:00.000+03:00

Johnny's Buttocks

2010-05-22T12:39:00.004+03:00

People think I have good English, for no reason. I don't even know how to pronounce benign or spell rhythm. Anyboo, remember the time it was kewl 2 rite lyk di$?

Old traditions always return, and today majority of the people finally appreciate the elegance of punctuation, grammar and spelling. I never thought something as tiny as a fullstop could look so divine.

I was thinking last night, how the word ''ass'' should be replaced by our old fashioned ''buttock''. It adds in the humour without even trying, and seems appropriate for all age groups.

For instance:

I got shot in the ass.
I got shot in the buttocks.

Now that's a fine ass.
Now that's a fine pair of buttocks.

Johnny, get your ass over here.
Johnny, get your buttocks over here.

I'ma whoop yo' ass.
I'ma whoop yo' buttocks.

Of course, you need to know where to stop.

You are a jackass.
You are a jackbuttock. (???)

Last night was the 6th time in one year, that I witnessed one of my million cats, in labour. By now I've become so immune to the squirting birth fluids and wriggling aliens popping out, I don't even mind handling the whole thing with bare hands, anymore. I know, thank God I'm not a chef.

Which reminds me, don't you just want to hammer your head when the host on a cooking show exaggerates how delicious the food is with this annoying pitch and frequency of "Mmmmmm!"? Some even go beyond that. It's "mmmm...mmmmmmm....MMMMM!"

It's like, woahkay lady, we get it. They won't pay you extra for that.

There should be a dish called Johnny's Buttocks. Two hemispherical puddings placed side to side. All jolly and wobbly.

Doying, doying....doying.

Human Auxins

2010-05-20T12:42:00.000+03:00

I realized a very long time ago that vertical growth and I, seem to never have gotten along in good terms. It was good to know you for the little fraction of my life that you spent with me, and then suddenly abandoned me for someone else. I hope you two are very happy together.

There’s a new nation of ants in my bathroom. Sometimes I go to the loo just to watch them. They carry something exciting every single day. Yesterday it was a cockroach leg. Crispy from the outside, scrumptious from the inside. An optional spiky skin.

So we find self-satisfaction at the sight of tiny teeny ants scuttling across our feet, thinking we’re not that small after all. But then you look at yourself, like an ant in your planet Earth. Then you look at Earth, that is an ant in its solar system. Then you look at this solar system, that is an ant in its galaxy. Then you look at this galaxy, that is an ant in its cluster of millions of similar galaxies. Then you look at the cluster, that is another ant in a nice, big collection of superclusters that blend up to give us the Universe. Then you find out the universe is expanding. Then you look at the ants again. Then you shut up and appreciate horizontal growth, if not vertical.

Cockroaches are hard to kill. I tried everything. They don’t drown, don’t corrode in Clorox, don’t die after 50 seconds in the microwave, they survive 1st degree slipper-smacking and seem to enjoy being the football for my cats in the kitchen.

I usually wouldn’t hurt a fly, but since cockroaches are invincible and you can’t hear them scream, they make a good substitute for laboratory guinea pigs.

I hope a Buddhist isn’t reading this.

Polyman

2010-04-19T10:39:00.000+03:00

Polyman, polyman - pocket your makeup away.

The pigments in your lipstick are the exotic juices of crushed cochineal beetles.
The pearlescence of your gloss was extracted from fish scales.
The bases you dip your face into were made from animal fats and nervous cells of cattle and swine.

Pocket your makeup away. You were beautiful long before you turned plastic.

Under the Pillow

2010-04-15T16:41:00.001+03:00

Today I’m going to write something I’ve wanted to write for a very long time.
I must remind you, despite the fact that I will be mentioning death, this is not an emo post, nor an emotional post, nor a pessimistic post.
It’s the only kind of post I know how to write; a hopeful post.

I’ve realized that one of the most torturous phases a person has to face is the sudden loss of the life of a close human being, without warning, without indication, without any preparation. Everything we’ve ever wanted to say to that someone, or that someone to say to us, is left unfinished.

I’m going to give my close people, that one last chance, to communicate with me. I will not put you through that torture. I was born to make people happy…and I will make sure that even my death will not cease to serve that purpose. The next line from now, you may now assume that I do not exist anymore and my Death Note has begun.

Here’s to a mother, a father, a brother, a lover, a friend, a stranger, a passer-by.

I’ve never been scared of death; not anymore. I knew that strong people are those who don’t pretend like it’s not going to come, and I knew that good people are those who, even if notified that they are to die tomorrow, resume their everyday schedule. There’s no need to change.

There was no pain when it happened, and there is still no pain. Do not be fooled if there was blood. Remember when my brother punched my face when we were kids? My mouth was bleeding, Mum was angry, my brother was desperately apologizing, while I, I was in ecstasy. There were stars going around my head, there was no pain, only transition. I’d let my brother punch me again.

And do not be fooled by my still face. I’m smiling, just like I always used to. I am in good hands. I’m in the hands of someone who I used to talk to every night, only now I can actually hear the replies. We talk about the silly things I used to do. It’s not lonely here. I’m safe.

Sometimes, people become more famous after dying, than they ever did during their lifetime. Do not publicize me, and do not praise me, if all you are doing is making peace with a death that’s mine. There is no need to pray for the highest place in heaven, there is no need to ask God to forgive all my sins. I know how I have lived my life.

My future was made of piles of carefully mastered plans. I was supposed to be an architect and build Mum that dream house I always promised to make with my own hands. I was supposed to build roofs over heads that sleep on sidewalks under a naked sky. I was supposed to make people realize that although good people are capable of becoming bad people, bad people are equally capable of becoming good people. I was supposed to save trees and squirrels and electricity and paper and water and irrelevant things that would annoy Nosh and Sarah. I was supposed to create something so incredible, it could cure mankind from depression. I was supposed to give second thoughts to my brother’s fiancé and I was going to tell their kids all the stupid things their father used to do. I was supposed to turn an unlucky man’s life upside down. I was supposed to let Mum and Dad know that the name they have given me, Rija - Hope - was well-deserved.

There is only one thing I ask from you.

Don’t let the death of one person become the death of an idea, and the death of a transmitter - the death of a symbol. Spread the idea like a plague, raise the banner of the symbol like the beginning of a revolution.

Communicate with me that way.

I’m listening.

They’re calling me. I’m going to sleep now. I was once told that some people are more beautiful in their sleep, than when they’re awake.

[6:61]

2010-04-10T10:06:00.004+03:00

The good news is, I painted after 3 years since my last painting dated 2007. The bad news is, I painted straight on my bedroom wall [I'd run out of canvases], which means I won't be able to take it with me when I shift to Pakistan for good. Unless there's such a thing as extracting a portion of concrete out of your wall and packing it up in a box.

*Imaginary bubble expands out of head*

Airport luggage inspector: And what might be in this suitcase, Ma'am?
Old lady: Just some blankets and sweaters I knitted for my grandchildren.
Airport luggage inspector: Oh jolly good. Next?
Businessman: Just some model presentations for my next meeting.
Airport luggage inspector: Very well, very well. Next?
Mother with a toddler: Ah well you know, a whole supply of diapers for the baby, some baby powder, some moisturizing cream, some baby massage oil, some baby shampoo and soap...
Airport luggage inspector: Oh okay yes Ma'am, I get it. Next?
Me: I have a chunk of concrete I drilled out of my wall! =D
Airport luggage inspector: Oh. That's. Splendid. Um. One moment, please...Security!?

*Pops imaginary bubble*

I hope the person who will be living in my room, soon, will be an old man who tries to unveil the meaning of the painting, and will say to himself, God, now behind that painting lies some genius.

Of course, maybe the next person to live in my room will be a young girl who would think I don't know how to read time properly and draws clocks the wrong way round.

Or it will be a stern man who makes sure the walls are re-painted and my work of art is buried 'neath a layer of enamel. But maybe the creepy messages I've hidden in the painting will make him do otherwise. *raises one eyebrow and indulges in witchy cackle*

Why an anticlockwise clock?
Maybe it implies history is constantly repeating itself.
Maybe it implies that though man has technologically progressed, culturally he is a creature of the Stone Age.
Maybe it implies that when you're passionately waiting for something, time doesn't pass the same way.

There's a sign on the wall
But she wants to be sure
'Cause you know sometimes words have
Two meanings.

Or it just means, for every news there is a time, and you will come to know.

Starbucks

2010-03-10T18:22:00.003+03:00

13 billion years ago, there was a star that was made of nothing but metallic hydrogen, that did nothing but burn into helium. The star eventually ran out of hydrogen fuel, and exploded into millions of little particles, of all kinds, that never existed before. Oxygen. Nitrogen. Carbon. The little suckers traveled far and wide, light year after light year, until they landed in a welcoming homeland - and joined together to form a cell made of protein.

That cell is in you.

You were once the fuel of a luminous ball, or a speck of space dust floating through a fluid of vacuum, or a photon of energy of your favorite colour. Do not think your existence is insignificant. You have traveled for a long time, from a place very far.

Welcome home.

Love is......Heh, I'm the last person you should expect an emotional post from.

2010-02-08T18:57:00.005+03:00

When your cat poops on your favorite shirt, and it is so dried up and toxic, you have no choice but to throw it into the bin...

Love is when you forget all about it the next second and pat your cat on the head.

Humour is when you realize - that shirt had a dog printed on it.

"What doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger"

2010-01-25T06:04:00.005+03:00

When the sum of the excretions of 13 cats is all constricted within the walls of your room, the stamina of the receptors in your nose drastically changes to the degree that it will take thrice the load of the initial value of stench to make you realize, that it actually, genuinely, stinks. And because the smell of what comes out is much greater than what goes in, and catfood already stinks, you can assume that whilst the co-efficient of stench of any other living creature, animal or Homo Sapien, is f(x), that of cats' would be f(9x).

I have a superpower. I can behold f(9x), and beyond.

Woops. I missed an "i" in "Exceeding". Oh well. Your eyes shall perceive it the way you think it really is even if it really isn't.

So what's your superpower?

________

Mount Olympis

2010-01-23T06:21:00.005+03:00

Waiting for the mushroom soup to arrive, we hear a harmonious voice, that successfully overlaps the rattling of dishes and clattering of cutlery inside the kitchen. The chef was singing. And he sang awesomely. Too awesome.

I pictured him as a teenager who dreamed of being a singer when he grows up. Today he sings in a kitchen where he stirs hot soup for people he doesn't know.

Sometimes you just don't get what you deserve.

Fathers become taxi drivers, or security guards of a trademarked building.
Mothers clean other people's homes for a living, or become school maids.
College graduates become mail room agents or pick up the food trays carelessly left on the table by strangers at a food court.

But that was one of the best soups we'd ever tasted and it was a pleasure meeting you, sir.

The star gates are not far away.

Black Gray! White

2010-01-22T08:28:00.004+03:00

*Clicks "New Post"*
*Taps fingers to the beat of an unknown band called "Los Campesinos!"*
*Rolls eyes around the room, searching for something to write about*
*4 minutes pass*

Oh. Let's start with how a cat just freshly used the litter box and walked over my lap, leaving an amusing trail of paw-shaped poopy patterns, of a colour I'm still trying to figure out, something between khaaki and vomit, on my trekpants that look expensive and branded but are really worth 200 Rupees from a bazaar in Karachi where-everything-is-cheap.

Bands that end with an exclamation mark always amuse me. Are you supposed to say them as excitingly and explosively as they are written? Like:

^Los Campesinos!

Neu!

Godspeed You! Black Emperor.

Panic! At the Disco. (<-- Twice as amusing. It's like. "PAAANIC!" *gasping face*...."At the Disco." *abrupt serious face*)

You Say Party! We Say Die! (<-- Lame name, I know. It's the type Miley Cyrus might make up in an attempt to look cool.)

Anyway. Is 'anyways' a word? Cuz I always used to say anyways until someone barges into my life and claims that it's anyway and not anyways and everything I've ever believed in the symmetry of things that end with an s, whether or not it is plural, has been shattered into smither. Eens.

Okay I'm talking like this cuz I just watched Paranormal Activity and I'm devastated by the fact that Mika died. That, too, by the one he loved most, and was acting all brave for in the first place. Once again my point has been proven. The thing you love most, is what kills you. Take Steve Erwin. Um. And I can't think of more. *cough*

Anyway(s). I know what will kill me.

Coffee. Eh eh eh. You were hoping I'd name someone.

*Exhales coffee breath*

Man, I don't get why guys smoke, and strictly warn girls not to smoke while they go do it themselves. And I don't get why girls want them to stop when guys and smoking is kind of like, um, girls and straightening their hair. It makes your hair look smex but you're killing the poor hydrogen bonds in your hair and you still don't stop inspite of knowing that. And I don't get why guys say "Stop being my mom" the time girls do ask them to stop, and become the daddy themselves if a girl says she'll try it too.
*Sigh* I always knew the world would be so peaceful if everyone were bisexual.

Yeah it's one of those DeeDee principles of mine, where I believe in grays, and not black and whites.

I love grays. I love averages. I love a complete loop of Zero that has the perfect mirror line through the centre. I love middle classes. I love organized mess. I love how I use British spellings for everything except the word 'gray' because it looks cooler with the 'a.' I love how a completely classic, cultural song starts in my playlist right after System of a Down. And I love dinner for breakfast, breakfast for dinner. And a cup of coffee in between to fuse the two.

Time for another cup.

If you can't decide to wear black or white - wear gray.

2 squids, a swordfish, a shark, 2 crabs, 3 shrimps and a rainbow fish.

2010-01-07T16:57:00.003+03:00

So after more than half a year's wait, we finally have our own car. And with that, after more than half a year's wait, I step out of the house, and into the real city, for the first time, in a long time.

Today I went out for my first drive with the man in front of me as my dad, and not a taxi driver. 20 minutes later, I find myself in a slaughter house. You know. Where queues of chopped cow heads are lined up on metal shelves, blindly staring at you with everything scooped out of them except the eyeballs in their sockets and the teeth in their jaws. A neat pile of tongues at one side, heaps of stomachs and intestines folded away at another side. Blood drippling down the edges, forming perfect, glossy red circles on the white marble floor. The air thick with the stench of mutilated animals. Butchers randomly axing away animal body parts, with tiny bits of flesh and goo splitting into thin air after every *chug* of the knife. For a second I quickly switched their roles in my head and pictured a scene of a cow mutilating a human being in the same manner.

Cow-customer enters: Oye, gimme a kilo of fresh, thick human fingers.
Cow-butcher: With the skin?
Cow-customer: Um. *turns to wife* Nah. Remove the skin, please.
*Cow-butcher peels off upper epidermis of human skin.*
Cow-customer: Oh and no fingernails, please.
Cow butcher: Of course. *Tuk. Tuk. Tuk. Tuk....Tuk.*
Cow-customer: Ah, and, can you cut them up in small square cubes?
Cow-butcher: No problem. *Ka-chig. Ka-chig. Ka-chig...Chig chig*

*Pops imaginary bubble*

Anyboo. Back on earth, Mum ended up buying 2 squids, a swordfish, a shark, 2 crabs, 3 shrimps and a rainbow fish, while the rest of the crowd stared away with amusement, thinking we must be some obsessed, sea-food fanatics. I chuckle to myself, wondering how they have no idea what kind of things my mum can do in the name of teaching her nursery class students. This time it was some Ocean Project she was assigned to do.

And so, the Adam's family walked out of the slaughter house carrying bags of 2 squids, a swordfish, a shark, 2 crabs, 3 shrimps and a rainbow fish. Unfortunately, they had run out of octopi.

There's pretty much no moral here.

Or maybe just the tiny little fact that the slaughter-houses of 'backward' Haarah are way more fun than the shopping malls of 'high-class' Olaya.

Who's with me?

Oh and Riyadh seriously needs a re-stock of octopi, man.

Devolution

2010-01-03T08:49:00.004+03:00

So now that the 'omg-it's-a-new-year' buzz is over, we all know that 2010 doesn't change the economic recession or global warming this planet is going through.

We've made all the lists of causes. Solutions. Procedures.

But no one has yet mentioned the deepest root of all this. Maybe they're ignoring it, on purpose.

Our darn population is never-ending. We've become an exponential graph. We're going to end when we reach infinite time - or time will end when we reach an infinite population. [Or I dunno, let my genius brother do the Math]. I'll put it in the most simplified form for all of us to understand.

Cow eats grass. Grass feeds on cow dump.
Man eats cow and grass.

Big fish eat small fish that eat smaller fish that eat even smaller fish.
Man eats big fish.

Basically, man eats everything. And nothing eats man.

We're the predators of everything, and nothing is the predator of us.

And so, we reproduce and populate the earth to the extent that God might have to consider increasing the magnitude of the earth's gravitational field to keep us intact.

What happens to particles in the same fixed volume, when you increase the temperature? Pressure increases. Particles become fussy. Colliding, pushing, bombarding. The particles need space, but they're not getting any. It's getting congested. It's getting humid. Air is running out. There's too much anger, too much frustration. Particles are banging harder into metal. It's getting noisier. Temperature is shooting. It's about to explode.

We're about to explode.

We eat everything. Nothing eats us. The more we are, the more that is eaten, and we become even more than we already were. The more we become, the less there is to eat.

And the less there is to eat...

The less we shall soon become.

Heh. Now ponder what we're going to do about that.

"By the year 2600, the world's population would be standing shoulder to shoulder, and the electricity consumption would make the Earth glow red-hot"
- Stephan Hawking.

The End.

[Please don't ruin it by saying something like, "Oh okay we should all go on a diet now."]

X_X

2010-01-01T11:30:00.006+03:00

Dad: So where do you want to go for dinner?
Me: Any place cheap?
Dad: Hm okay, let me call up the taxi driver; see where he is.

*Tring tring*

Dad: Yes, Shah! Where are you right now?
Taxi driver: Oh I'm at Sheraton Hotel, having dinner!
Dad: Oh.

Me: Oh.

Twenty Ten

2009-12-31T22:39:00.004+03:00

If you ignore the fact that my room is a mess, my hair is unbrushed, only one eye has eyeliner and the other doesn't, a pair of scissors is anything but suicidal material, and the fact that I'm prominently breathing while I'm supposed to be dead in the video, you'll hopefully realize this video is excellently lame - as intended.

I'm not sure what the point was. Just. Blah. I just need an excuse to do this crap.

My Trip to the Super....Market -_-

2009-12-17T11:47:00.004+03:00

So you're probably thinking, heh, what the hell is so extraordinary about going to a supermarket.

Try picturing going to one after 2 whole months - that too when you're only other outing, is school - that too, which is a minute away from your house - which you can imagine requires such a fulfilled duration of traveling.

So yeah. I felt like one of those village girls visiting downtown for the first time, or so I made myself feel. Every little, insignificant thing fascinated me. I felt like giving tip to the taxi driver who not only played Akon on his tape recorder, but lip-sang it too. With style! And emotion!

"Nobody wanna see us togetha, but it don't matter, no, 'cause I got you."

Mum called him an ullu ka patha after we got out of the cab, but that's a different story.

The vegetable section could be a whole studio for photographers.

Short people give me this enlightening sense of hope. I feel like there is still time before we short people are eliminated from the general human population and will have to migrate into our own independent state where all materialistic objects are specifically designed in a smaller version, for our convenience.

Philippines have the rad-est hair in the whole entire world, and their infants, I tell you, have the most natural spikes no other hairdo can compete. [Oh remind me to congratsify the maids in our school, Philippines be free from martial law! =D HINK, it's not funny o_O]

It's awesome seeing everyone around the counter be amused by the endless number of meat trays you're casually placing over the conveyer belt. "1, 2, 3, 4....*a minute later*...31, 32, 33...o_O." I hope they realized we're the famous little family of Riyadh who owe 10 cats. No wait. 11 cats. Err, I've lost count.

Also, people should stop walking around like zombies. Why so serious? o_O I mean, I'm not saying you should skip your way across the aisles and talk like you're featuring in a musical; only I do that, but, uh...okay never mind o_O.

And it's so adorable seeing old feeble men with little strands of soft white hair carefully intact in their heads, dragging a trolley around with a list of things their wives wrote down for them to buy.

And, um, it's embarrassing when you smile at a toddler kid because you're seeing one after 2 months, and he just ends up giving you the what-the-heck-you-smiling-at-me-for,-punk!?-look.

The world is awesome when all you do is visit a supermarket, and come home to have something to blog about while munching a bar of Snickers.

The world is awesome if you're the Queen of all Small Things.

He Paints Across the Skyline

2009-12-16T16:58:00.005+03:00

Wrinkled as a crumbling walnut, battered as medieval stone, crouched as convex as the Hunchback of Notre Dame, the old man lifelessly thrusted his wheelchair through the city streets.

His eyes gazed at the city. Behind those pallid eyes lived some mysterious world that once existed; a world that only he knew of - a world the city could ever be enlightened with - ever again. A world that made him appreciate the fact, of being alive.

He drew his wheelchair towards a window shop and glared through the crystal-clear glass. A sombre reflection stared back at him, penetrating into the midst of his morbid thoughts. And then, he remembered...the days those deep wrinkles carved into his white skin never existed. Days when his hands imbibed the confidence to overpower any obstacle in his way. When his legs, now lying motionless on a wheelchair, could walk for miles around the city, unleashing its hidden mysteries everyday. He remembered days when the words he spoke fascinated the fortunate listeners. Today, it had all become the past. No one heard his voice, no matter how inconsolably he'd scream from inside. He had no one that would want to look back at him; be inspired. He had no support...nothing but a reckless, inanimate wheelchair.

Time passed. Maybe minutes, maybe hours, maybe even days. Time meant nothing to him anymore. Now, it was simply waiting. Waiting, waiting. For time to take him away.

The unexciting sky painted itself into the dark night. The moon stared at him, as if he was the culprit of a grave sin...as if he shouldn't deserve to love any longer...as if he should be discarded.

People walked past him. He needed to be heard. He needed to speak to someone. He needed someone to grasp his lost hand and help him find a way to purpose. But the people continued walking. Walking, walking.

There was a tunnel of light protruding out of thin air. Was this it?

His heart silently ceased its pace. His eyelids restlessly met. Ceasing, ceasing.

And the people - they continued walking past him.

Walking, walking.

- 03.11.06

Swimming at the Space Station

2009-12-13T05:49:00.003+03:00

When I grow up and my man and I are walking down a street right after the rain, in a foggy, chilly time of the night, I'm going to take off my jacket and slip it over him before he does.

And this is what I felt like writing when I woke up at 4 am to finish off homework.

Now I can get back to writing half-equations when Cr^3+ is reduced to CrO4 ^-2.

-____-

A Toy Story

2009-12-05T16:46:00.008+03:00

Suddenly, the snoring of cats irritating my ears, sounds like a song.
Suddenly, I feel like checking out Jazz, a genre I thought made no sense, no offense to the African American origins.
Suddenly, my umpteenth attempt on making a circular paratha finally succeeds.
Suddenly, I love being the Joker of your deck of cards, even if I'm not used in your game.
Suddenly, I think I know who Led Zeppelin sings about in Stairway to Heaven.

More puddles to jump into.

Suddenly, I love the pimples colonizing the battlefields upon my forehead.

Ugliness is beautiful.
Mistakes are human.
Regrets make good bedtime stories.
Silly is perfect.
Perfection is silly.

Silly is DeeDee.

DeeDee is your toy.
You are a story.

Let's write A Toy Story.

Chapter 1.

I'll be your Dixie chicken
You be my Tennessee lamb
And we will walk together
Down in Dixie land...

Your turn next.

Wellow Submawine

2009-11-30T19:58:00.007+03:00

You know why I don't like having any kind of gathering at my place? We have the smallest flat of the neighbourhood, with the largest population of cats, and since the cats treat the house like they pay the rent, and we human inhabitants, Mum, Dad and I, are just guests who popped by for a while, they invade the main room where the crowd's all loud and active.

So next time, I'm supposed to chase all the cats into one room and shut the door throughout the entire party so that they don't 'disturb the guests.' In other words, avoid situations where aunties are screaming at I dunno who, so that a cat who wants nothing but attention, can stop appraoching them - or where kids are grabbing the cats' tails and dragging them across the place.

This very moment, I'm in such a room, shut with 6 kittehs, chin resting on my knee, rhythmically moving to and fro to the sound of the Beatles album while a thing is going on out there. I hate the spelling of rhythm. Actually cut out the 'the' and 'of '.

*Refreshes facebook page for the 97th time*

I don't get why the entire clan of facebook users decide to become static on facebook at the same exact time, and just leave me feeling like a sad-life idiot whose social life partly depends on those lil red notifications. I also don't get it when people upload a picture or write a status and end up "Like"-ing it themself o_O. That's just as weird as giving yourself your own autograph.

YAY I GOT A NOTIFICATION.

Oh...never mind. -_-

Facebook sucks. *Closes Facebook*

Oh crap, another notification.

Blegh! Forget it. Too little too late!

Let's do something phun. Hmmm. Oh oh I can trick my eyes into seeing the cats lip-singing Beatles. And this bulb-rich room is our yellow submarine. And we all are sailing [submarines sail or what o-O?] towards the Ocean of 7up.

We all live in a yellow submarine,
A yellow submarine,
*Secretly opens Facebook*
A yellow submarine!

Kawpy Cayt

2009-11-23T21:12:00.003+03:00

I recorded and edited this in less than 10 minutes. By far my quickest video to date.
Once again, featuring my feline nation of fuzzballs.

Dear Mumasaur...

2009-11-20T19:40:00.006+03:00

Once upon a time, there was a little dumb girl of the 2oth century who suddenly decided dinosaurs still exist. She thought they all lived under the ground, and would erupt out of the roads at any unexpected time of the day, and make a scrumptious dinner meal out of her family. She would spend hours staring outside her bedroom window...guarding the house from any nearby dinosaurs that might rise from underground while the rest of the family sleeps. She'd cry a river if her parents reached home late from somewhere, thinking a T-Rex got the best of them...

It's the worst feeling - when there's nowhere to be safe...not even under your roof, or under your warm sheets.

Again, suddenly, the dumb little girl decided that dinosaurs don't exist after all and she should just grow out of it already. So she wrote her mum a letter to thank her for tolerating her stupidity.

8 years later, my mum comes up to me and says, "Remember this?"

Word Differentiations | f '(chocolate) = (rap.artist)

2009-11-14T16:57:00.006+03:00

HNIK: I only have two packs of Maltesers left.
Me: Two packs?
HNIK: Yeah...
Me: Tupac!
HNIK: Omg =D
Me: Two packs of m&m's!
HINK: ...
Me: Two packs of Eminem!
HNIK: Omg =D
Me: Tupacs o' Eminem =D

o_O.

Ponk Ponk peeping sound of clown's red nose

2009-11-08T21:21:00.004+03:00

rtfgfgrt//,.zp97
|
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Sorry. My cat typed that.

It's really gross and annoying when you inevitably have to sneeze with food in your mouth, and you use those few nanoseconds to shove away as much food as you can to the side of your cheeks before the sneeze erupts.

I like the flu. It makes me look hot for some reason. Even Sarah E. said my hair looks nice the other day, which, trust me, coming from her, is as rare as Superman changing his underpants.

Bhai, you know those trek pants you bought me at the Itwaar Bazaar? They ripped the same day I wore them for the first time. I'm still wearing them. Sometimes cheap things transform into the next generation fashion statement.

Anyways. So apart from becoming an architect and re-building cities for mass populations that God knows will ever even know the roof over their heads was designed over a mind-wrecking series of sketches and calculations, I've decided to officially declare myself an Elf. You know, the ones in their green clothing and dance around little bonfires in the middle of the forest and just sing and dance all day? That.

I'm tired of people complaining. Like, okay, I get the point - humans are messed up, we're even lower than animals, we're not gunna change, yada yada yada - so get over it already? Especially if you're not even going to do anything about it, except complain, kay?

Did you know frowning uses 26 more facial muscles than smiling?

Gosh. After I'm an architect, I'm only marrying if I find someone who will be a clown-partner with me. Make the world a laughing matter. Just him and me. Clown and Elf. [Volunteers can sign up on the comment box of this post, but at their own risk.] And we're also going to pet a baby elephant, named Ellyfint Juniour. We'll potty-train it together. And then our kids can take Elly to school for show-and-tell, and the whole world will know what a cracked family we are.

Okay enough. You guys think you're on this blog to chill? Huh? It's time you exercise your brain a bit. I shall leave you with a question, which you all are free to answer. Use your wildest imagination. Do not hesitate, for nothing is left unappreciated in Elf's world.

What do Maltesers, Dr. Phil, and tinday, have in common?

Till I Collapse...Literally.

2009-11-05T11:28:00.002+03:00

Sometimes, I'm really, really, full of it. This is one of those times.
Now you know where I use "eyeliner".
And now you know I love embarrassing myself in front of you wretchedly lovely people.

Things to do before I'm a patch of nutrients in the soil damn this is a long name for a post yada yada yada

2009-11-02T15:31:00.013+03:00

Have dolphins, killer whales and massive sea-lions carry me miles across the Atlantic coastline while I sing a Riji-song as rainbows swirl out of my mouth and would make oceanic creatures passing by want to dance.
Scare the shit out of myself swimming with sharks. Ferocious, man-eating ones.
Watch all the childhood movies with my brother one night before he gets married.
Rocket myself in a cannon in a spacesuit and see how far I defy gravity and land back on a ginormous trampoline.
Witness the Aurora thingy majig in the Arctic.
Go on a world-trip with the funnest partner on earth. Russia (I have a thing with Russia o_O), Tokyo, the Vatican City, Iceland, Wales, Greece, South India, and remote unidentified places in Europe, are on the list.
Karaoke on the biggest platform in the middle of the night with half the world to torture my baby voice with.
Spoil Mum and Dad the day I get my first salary, till the rest of their lives. Payback time.
Go to every P-concert. (Pink Floyd, Porcupine Tree, Pearl Jam, Pineapple Thief...P-concerts.)
Pet a chimpanzee and shower it with spoils of love and maybe marry it if it evolves into a human during my lifetime.
Become Pakistan's first and last female rap artist.
Shout "Na na na boo boo" at an army of Mutawwas after I climb the Kingdom Tower and do the chicken dance.
Win a basketball match against the tallest men of the planet and throw a "In yo' face! Shawties can play ball too, dawg!" at them.
Jump into an icey cold pool of 7up in the stifling heat of the desert.
Tie myself to one of the panes of a windmill located in a classic gold field of wheat, Sarah E. and Nosh MGN. on the other two, and swing round and round.
Get swallowed by a tornado, witness a trip into its Eye, and come back in one piece.
Budge into a very important presidential conference out of nowhere and scream "Eat Chicken, Not Cow!"
Do the voice of the dumbest, hyper-est character in the next big Pixel Studio animated movie.
Make a man scream like a girl.
Blast off into the universe in a spaceship with nothing but my potentially-marital-chimpanzee and myself, and an eternal collection of books and music, crash into a radioactive planet happily eating bananas with Chimpu or something.

Feline Metamorphosis

2009-10-31T17:02:00.009+03:00

When you're the last one to leave the house on your way to literacy, and when you're the first one to return home, and the only ones to say "Seeya guys! Be good till I'm back," and "Hewwo babies how was your day =D," to, are a bunch of cats, when the last thing you're doing before sleeping is reading them a story, when the first thing you do when you wake up is fetch them breakfast, you realize that half of your social life depends on 8 cats.

But when you secretly find yourself liking the way Sarah E. ruffles your hair, or when you make dreamy eyes, softly growling as you rub your head into Nosh's shoulder to look cute so you can get the remains of what she's eating, when you unknowingly scratch your flappy ears and sleep in bed like a furball, and when you lick your plate when Mum's not watching because the gravy tasted so good and a spoon won't do the job right - clearly, you're not just depending on 8 cats.

You're turning into them, too.

Ghhrrrrr. Will you rub my neck now?

Over here ^_^.

No, a bit to the left.

Ahh. You got it.

Ghhrrrr.

Don't try to understand me. Just love me and fatten me and watch me play tag with myself and tell me how adorable I am and change my poop tray every 3 hours of the day.

[Dee/Bubble]
You've been Freak'd.

Starry Eyed Surprise

2009-10-31T16:14:00.004+03:00

*Monster stretch*
*Monster yawn*

Look who's back from hibernation.

Woah. The sun looks more smiley. Oh the pretty sky. Omg is that you? You look good o_O. Such pretty chics and handsome lads, you all. Golly.

So - bags packed, then?

Where can I take you today?

I was thinking Russia.

Liquid Hibernation

2009-10-26T04:09:00.007+03:00

Riding to the end of the world
Climbing skyscrapers
Jumping in puddles
Without rubber boots
Spinning round and round
Dizzy, blurry
Over the Mediterranean
Infinite Russia
Sleeping amongst silver linings
Of vapours and clouds
Trudging through
Gold wheat
Feet dug in the cold
Secrets of the sand
There was no line
Where earth ended
And heaven began
But I went home
Only to find out
There was no one left
To tell my thousand tales
About.
So I float around in liquid hibernation
Maybe they’ll be back
When I wake up.
And we shall climb
The cities I built
Start packing your bags
We'll leave when I'm up.

~3.41am~

The Sleeping Idiot.

2009-10-21T19:50:00.007+03:00

My idiot brother, looks so beautiful in his sleep. You idiot. It's my last night here and look at you, lying like a couch potato. The farewell-video I'm trying to upload for you since morning isn't even working. Idiot. And you went to sleep while I was talking to you. Awesome way to end my last night here. You didn't even know there's been this ginormous lizard living in your dressing room for the past 4 days, which I never told you earlier so that you could take pride in knowing you've shared a room with a lizard for so long and still not scream like a girl. Idiot.

Anyboo, I'm gunna go peck you goodnight on your spiky cheeks (didn't you just shave the other day? God, you men grow facial hair faster than you change your underpants), and head downstairs.

This is not an emotional post.

My flight's tomorrow and you're just an idiot.

Oh yay the video finally uploaded.

Here you go.

To the days we were wild and free. And ehem, pretty childish and chubby, too. Well okay, just me. You were all serious and talented while I was the DeeDee to your Dexter-ness.

Damn, did I had some chunky nostrils or wha' ?

We'll be like this again, some day.

Goodnight, idiot.

With Taurine/Vitalizes body and mind.

2009-10-19T06:40:00.005+03:00

Red Bull Energy Drink

increases performance
increases concentration and reaction speed
improves vigilance
improves the emotional status
stimulates metabolism

Drink up, people with that upside-down smile.

-Errrgh- I'm bored. I can hear some teacher in a next-door school scolding a kid in Urdu. Hey! I could like, put on "Another Brick in the Wall" by Pink Floyd on full blast with these *some digit*-.1 speakers and inspire those kids to burn the school down and shout, "We don't need no education, we don't need no self control!"

Okay. I'm bored. *Gulps down more Red Bull*

My interview's tomorrow! Apparently there're actually 4 interviews, divided between 4 people in different rooms. I feel like those woman criminals who're taken into all these cells with bathroom tiles, to be investigated by hot-shot Scotland Yard people in their smooth suits and sheek sunglasses and smell like cologne.

Gosh...I need to be in a woman prison some day.

Red Bull's effects are appreciated throughout the world by top athletes, busy professionals, active students and drivers on long journeys.

I can imagine those Pakistani drivers with their super-decorated, bleating-like-a-goat buses, mustaches pointing at 2 o' clock and 10 o' clock, listening to 1980 Punjabi music, making their way through the stifling, un-cemented roads, coolly sipping on a glowing can of Red Bull.

*Drinks remaining Red Bull*

Woah...

o_O

Wings...

Beauty in the Breakdown

2009-10-08T11:04:00.002+03:00

Hey you. Guess it's just you and me again, just like the old times.
I got out of bed to discover my Mum in one of her headache sessions that have been persisting for a whole week now.
A cup of bubbling tea, a holy Panadol.
A clean house makes her happy, so without brushing my teeth I start doing the dishes, wiping floors, scrubbing toilets and sinks, vacuuming household debris thanks to 6 feline claw-kits, laundry, ironing...
*Washing machine beeps*
Oh and now that the clothes are done, I'll go hang them out in a while.
I secretly wish there was someone watching me do all this and appreciate it.
But ah, so many things are only purely good when done in secret.
So many.

It's starting to get really cold in Riyadh. Either that or it's my weird fluctuating blood temperature. Last night I discovered the best way to keep warm, when you're alone. Curl yourself up into a ball. Feet should touch your bum, knees should reach your chin, and the arms, a seat belt to bind it all up.

I've also become absurdly clumsy. I bang my head against shelves and bunk beds, slip in bath tubs, wham my teeny toes into wooden corners.

And my face is all pimpley. I'm not surprised, 'cause I always made fun of my brother with his poppy majigs, and Mum always taught me that whenever you make fun of someone, one point in your life, the same exact thing will happen to you in one form or another. I told Bhai back in the days that he should donate his face for geographical research, with all those "molehills and volcanoes and plateaus." Look what I've done. Look what's going to happen to me. Oh the glory, oh the glory.

I have one, and only one, salvation, at this particular moment of this particular day. My hour-lasting dreams. My connection with the non-physical powers. Oh, if only you all knew the powers you possess, mankind. If only you saw beauty in the breakdown.

Poor man wanna be rich,
Rich man wanna be king,
King ain't satisifed,
Until he rules everything.

I should go hang the clothes out now.
I'll probably blog some more, soon.
It's going to be a lonely day today.
And no, you know I despise your sympathies.
Let me enjoy the beauty of this breakdown.

Please don't wake me, no don't shake me, leave me where I am, I am only sleeping. ~ Beatles.

iBuddy

2009-09-30T17:18:00.003+03:00

If you’re a stranger reading this, well hello there, how do you do?
We’ve never met before but I think I know enough about you.
In fact, I bet we have a lot in common, than we think.

I know, for instance, that you have a secret.
A deep, dark, deathly secret.
Under that mask you so often wear.

I know sometimes you think you’re the only one like yourself, in the whole entire world.
At other times you think you’re just like everyone else, and you’re merely another jellybean in the jar.
I know you got what you didn’t deserve.
I know it should’ve been you over there, but it did not work out that way, and it happened to someone else instead.
I know you’re trying to find peace with something.
I know that debate is going on in your head. You’re looking for answers…questions…answers…
I know you want to give up sometimes but you force yourself up, even if there‘s no purpose to any of it in the end.
Whether they call you a good person, or a bad person, I know you are a person first, above all other judgments.
If you’re the quietest person they’ve ever met, I know you have equally colossal amounts of voices and sounds in that cranial box of yours.
If you call yourself stone-hearted, I know you’ve secretly shattered before.
If you think you can do it alone, I know you wish it wouldn’t be too bad without company any way.

You might be the dumbest, stupidest, gayest, low-life scum who came across this post out of all the other low-life, unproductive things you could do. Or the black sheep at the corner of the crowd who nobody bothered to invite. Yada yada. What ever. Who ever.
I don’t know your name, or which part of the planet you live in, but I am thinking of you - wondering, pondering - what you’re going through, what you’re thinking, what you’re hoping and wishing, saint or evil.

If you think I’m full of it, you’re probably right.
But hey. Now we’re not strangers anymore.

Take off your mask.
Let’s start again now.

Well hello there. How do you do?

Morphine Candy, Anyone?

2009-09-22T12:33:00.001+03:00

Baby at heart? Naive? Innocent? Fell for their traps? Who? Me? Seriously? No c'mon - seriously?

Meh. Not anymore.

I'm invincible to pain now.

Invincible.

. . . . . .

Come, wicked people, come what may.
Shower me with your bullets of dismay.
Do what you do best,
And I'll do what I do best.
Fear not my baby heart,
I'll be okay if we part.
I have my Nation of Small Things to look after.
Of jokers and clowns, of twittering laughter.
And I - the morphine to your pain,
Narcotics to your brain,
And bandage to your wings -
Will not need a king.
So save the sympathies, don't give me those sorry's,
Just watch me
In my crowning glory.
. . . . . .

Sugar can make hard candy too.

I'm invincible to pain now.

Invincible - and unreadable.

Next chapter.

the Queen of all Small Things

2009-09-15T19:03:00.015+03:00

I'm an inexperienced much-more-to-find-out 17 year old girl whose life, at the moment, evolves around this tiny little room in her tiny little house, and yet her life seems so large.

Multiply the enormity by a few millions and trillions, and you get the sum of the lives of 6 other billion people breathing the same oxygen as I am.
This world is frikkin' big, in every way possible. There's nothing - nothing - you can look at, and not be able to picture an entire story behind it; its making; its being.
Homes. Temples. Mountains. Deserts. Ancestors. Population. Languages. Cultures. Migrations. Civilization. Urbanizations. Construction. Materials. Independence. Peace. Religion. Law. Art. Music. Dance. Reform. Revolution. Renaissance. Architecture. Designing. Politics. Drugs. Health. Medicine. Mathematics. Philosophy. Biology. Mechanics. Media. Computers. Designing. Clothes. Technology. Creativity. Conflict. Wars. Diversity. Animals. Bacteria. Industry. Ethics. Globalism. Genetic Engineering. Marine Life. Sky high. History. Evolution. Literature. Liberals. Illusions. Individuality. Witchcraft. Science. Travel. Cars. Concerts. Movies. Theatre. Economy. Ecosystem. Mediocrity. Torture. Mystery. Myth. Legend. Women. Education. Poverty. Rights. Beliefs. Radicals. Purpose. Colour. Compromise. Relationships. Love. Sorrow. Hate. Solidarity. Intuition. Logic. Ideas. Places. Faces.

...And everything else.

Connect all that vastness with an endless line and you get the Web of Everything. You cannot deny me when I say I feel small. A small creature that wants to get trapped in this Web and be entangled into a bit of it all.

I am not an inborne genius who can create something that will leave the world in awe. I'm not famous, or rich, or genuinely unique. I may be the world to some one today, but I am not someone who will be remembered a century from now. I will, some day, not be. I will do what I'm here to do, but my turn will be gone soon, and my place will be taken. One day I will be an ancestor...

One day I will be the nutrients to a patch of grass in the soil.

So what am I, right now, while they build their spaceships and invent their gadgets and discover their isotopes and break their mathematical codes and win their Oscars and their Nobel Prizes and the hearts of many souls?

Baby at heart, psychotic in mind, clown by face, I am the Queen of all small things.

Where we rule all the small, insignificant things you never looked at before, and find value in it; will you be the first people of my little nation?

Yunus Emre

2009-09-14T17:54:00.000+03:00

I climbed into the plum tree
and ate the grapes I found there.
The owner of the garden called to me,
"Why are you eating my walnuts?"

Pillows & Clouds

2009-09-12T23:13:00.003+03:00

We're f l o a t i n g . . .

Not S w i m m i n g.

I got it from my Momma.

2009-06-25T16:53:00.002+03:00

"Dontcha wish yo girlfriend - were - hot - like - me?"

[Wasn't I right about the natural eye liner :)?]

House of the Rising Six.

2009-05-28T22:59:00.008+03:00

My next video just out.

Bhai, I hope this boosts you up before your interview.

For the rest of you, just love my babies man.

Closer to Earth.

2009-05-28T00:04:00.003+03:00

My AC's working now. I'm supposed to be sleeping back in the bed in my room.

But I think I'll still go for Mum & Dad's floor.

There's something about a floor, a bed does not have.

Answering a Question with a Question.

2009-05-25T21:50:00.002+03:00

Someone asks a man,

"Are you a criminal?"

The man replied,

"Aren't we all?"

Paint (3)

2009-05-17T13:01:00.002+03:00

Skateboard#3

If you love non-sensical Maths.

Paint (1)

2009-05-16T21:22:00.005+03:00

A random and very unprofessional design I made of a skateboard. Temme if you like it, or hate it; no sweats, I'm great at handling criticism!

Toonk

2009-05-16T18:12:00.006+03:00

Raindrops have a terminal velocity of 9m/s!

I don't know why I'm so obsessed with that,
bear me!

=D

How it's going to End.

2009-05-11T19:52:00.007+03:00

*DeeDee has just woken up from a tremendously weird sleep and the post you are now about to read might be controversial but she cannot care at the moment. If you think it'll bore you, help yourself not reading. Lalala.*

Ladies and gentlemen. I have come to a point where I try to find every reason to avoid watching news channels. Each headline, a new disappointment, each news alert, another flop.

Honestly, I am sick and tired of everything now =/. Man, fighting over possibly everything and anything. Religion against science, liberty against racism, all the battles over land, oil, power, wealth, all the discrimination, dividing majorities into sects, sects into blocks, blocks into parties, it's all becoming so darn ridiculous. Benazir kills brother, husband kills Benazir, what comes next in sequence, I will not dare write.

We have become judging machines who find every excuse to make another person seem inferior to us so that we find satisfaction and majesty in ourselves.

No, really. Why should we judge people differently if they're from India and not from Pakistan? How can you judge a country of the highest population on earth, when you've never even met an Indian your entire life and think you have the brains to know what they're like by watching a few Bollywood movies which are pathetic portrayals of real Indian life anyway?

Really, go ahead making fun of every religion except your own, and when it all comes back in your face, cuss even more. Why should I budge my nose into people who find peace in their own faiths? Why should I make a fuss if it's Jesus on the cross, or the white kippah on their head, or a picture on the wall of a meditating man, or a god with an elephant's head, if it's what makes them a good person?

If terrorists of our religion bring shame to our name, isn't it obvious it's the same for every other religion? If we judge entire nations because of those exceptionally retarded people, can you really blame them for calling us guys, terrorists?

Why should we despise people for being bisexual or homosexual, when they didn't really have the option button to decide what orientation they would like to choose before stepping on to this planet?

And really. Fight all you want over how the earth began. Was it the Big Bang? The 7 days? Bacterial evolution? Sure, curiosity is a powerful tool that leads man to more doors, more questions, more answers. But how long are we going to spend time fighting over what we think is right, instead of realizing we have lost too much time asking the wrong questions for too long. Right now, it doesn't matter how, who, what, when. The question, is, what now?

What now?

I'll tell you what now.

Our real enemy, is not the country throwing bombs over our civilians, or the terrorists, or fate or Satan.
And I'm not going to say a typical dialogue either, that "the real enemy is our self."

Our real enemy, is no one. Because it takes two people to start a battle, and if you want, if you really want, you can take control of how it's going to end.

If we're not going to change, if we're going to let all this be as it has been being for a trillion years now, then it will not be the Big Crunch, or a 9.3 magnitude earthquake, or a meteor, or the collapsing of mountains and ripping open of the sky, but in fact, man will self-destruct himself, and everyone, everything, around it.

That's how it's going to end.

The End.

My Pair of Scissors

2009-05-09T18:44:00.011+03:00

Remember on my birthday, I said I am not as excited today as I will be for another day? That day came last week, the 2nd of May. It was 12am. I was reading a book, lying down flat on my tummy, thinking this night will pass like any other. But Imli, my pregnant cat, decided otherwise.

At 12am, she chose to finally tube out the contents in her womb that made her too heavy to carry herself. The 1st one was already half way out (or half way in?) and my hopeless, clueless Imli jumped onto Mum's lap, trying to understand what in God's name is happening to her. But Mum was clueless herself, and she screamed my name 2 walls from where I was. I slapped the book against my bed and ran to the room. My baby's having a baby. My baby's having a baby.

Sleeves rolled, hair roughly tied in a hurry, I grabbed on a pair of plastic gloves and carried her into my room in a box.

She shrieked and howled. I held Imli's head against my chest to ease her down, as I witnessed the making of our first special bond. 'Cause in that moment I was holding her tight, she quietened down and closed her eyes, enduring the pain.

And there it was. The first one. Imli was as amused as I was. I gave her time to lick the baby, to chew off the umbilical cord, but as young as Imli was, she had no idea what to do. Before I know it, the next baby is on it's way. More shrieking. More panicking. More of my hands trembling.

The 2nd one was out.
Then the 3rd.
It was all happening so fast.
Three umbilical cords still left unattended to.

I grabbed a pair of scissors. Cut each of the cords. Remembered to breathe. When was the last time I breathed?

The three were perfectly A-okay.

Mum and Dad enter the room. Mum saying, "Thank God...just three!" She always worried how our little house will be able to provide the needs of so many kittens.
Dad saying, "Rija, how the hell did you do that?"

20 minutes later, nature defied Mum's gratitude, because another one was on its way. Now this one was a red alert; when it was out, it was still in its sac, tightly wrapped in a thin membrane.
It wasn't moving.
It's not moving...

You know how you see a sleeping new-born baby wrapped in its blanket in its most serene state, as a vision of utmost peace and tranquility?

Well. This stillness was the most unpleasant.

Oh no. You are not going to give up. I ripped open the sac with the same pair of scissors and tore it off the baby like a tomato peel; gently pressed it, gently shook it...

It's mouth gasped open and as it slightly choked on amnitoic fluid, it took its first breath and squealed.

It was the most beautiful squeal I'd ever heard.

Then there was one more baby. And another one. And that was it.
The hour hand reached 3.
3am.

It was bloody. It was messy. My hands had stopped trembling. Imli looked into me like I was her Holy Book, and everytime she looks at me that way, it kills me and revives me, altogether.

Lil Furby, Imli's best friend, smacked Imli on the head for giving babies that have now replaced her post as the baby of the house. Deep inside, she cares.

Mum and Dad say I shoud've opted for Bio and become a doctor.
But Imli and I, of all, know, that it was more than medical skill that got me through the 2nd of May.

It was my pair of scissors, and a whole lot of love.

Imli and the club.
Furby waiting for the 6 to do more than drink, poop and sleep.

Battery Acid

Mass Production Zone

Vroom vroom.

You Use the Forces of Nature, the Forces of Nature Use You

Dance to Forget

Welcome to the Machine

Zombies! Aliens! Vampires! Dinosaurs!

Energy Diversion

Dancing Dice

Orange.

Silly Things

Guide to a Badass Galaxy

Aawish.

Vanilla Ice

Wisdom from a Children's Book

Being Nietzsche

Summer Shalwar

Banana

Transaction

Pot Tea

Jelly Beans

Sunday Report (1) with Blob the Marsporter

Blob the Marsporter

Non-Biodegradable Book of Deeds

How My Unicorn Was Murdered

Click this title. You shan't regret it.

Telescope from Eden

Stripes

Peanut Butter Post That Has Nothing to do with Peanut Butter

Mr. Roboto II

Tales of the Pearl White Throne II

Tales of the Pearl White Throne

Relationship Status: It's Facked

Mr. Roboto

In the Name of Rock, Cows and Fish

This may not be a happy poem.

My entire life in a nutshell.

Free Hug Campaign

XX x XY = XX Part II

The Plant Called It

Flash

Riddle

XX x XY = XX

One of those questions I need to know the answer of or else I can't function in my office.

TH-language

Naughty Radio

Sterioisomers

Meray paas bangla hai, gaari hai, paisa hai, tumharay pass kia hai? Meray paas socks hein.

Patient Planet

Gold Fish

Alice in Chains

Chocolate That Never Melts

Shelium, Shydrogen.

The White Knight

My Juicy Comic Strip

Johnny's Buttocks

Human Auxins

Polyman

Under the Pillow

[6:61]

Starbucks

Love is......Heh, I'm the last person you should expect an emotional post from.

"What doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger"

Mount Olympis

Black Gray! White

2 squids, a swordfish, a shark, 2 crabs, 3 shrimps and a rainbow fish.

Devolution

X_X

Twenty Ten

My Trip to the Super....Market -_-

He Paints Across the Skyline

Swimming at the Space Station

A Toy Story

Wellow Submawine

Kawpy Cayt

Dear Mumasaur...

Word Differentiations | f '(chocolate) = (rap.artist)

Ponk Ponk *peeping sound of clown's red nose*

Till I Collapse...Literally.

Things to do before I'm a patch of nutrients in the soil damn this is a long name for a post yada yada yada

Ponk Ponk peeping sound of clown's red nose