I finally saw some hot guys!
There is a store called Safeway here. Safe, I think, because it saved me from going completely insane at the lack of hot guys to look at. There is a really cute employee here! And he found me little muffins with blue-berries in them, which counts as plus points for him. I never knew I liked blue berry muffins.
As Barney would say, momentary bit of grudging respect.
Desis: 1
Amreekans: 1
I feel a funny coming. And zombies.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
Chaat houses and booze
As things turned out, it took me just about...4 minutes into amreekan land to find alcoholic drinks: they were on the plane. Seriously, you begin to wonder at the credibility of an airline where the air-hostesses smell of booze. Nevertheless, we somewhat miraculously survived the plane ride (despite being seated next to an old Indian alcoholic who managed to find an r-rated movie on a kids-friendly airplane) and took our first steps into the land of opportunities. I then tripped on the horizontal escalator, something I wasn't even aware is possible. After being helped by some creepily cheerful employees, we found our way outside, where our relatives were waiting. My first thought was, I am ashamed to admit, something that went like "OMYHOLYGODCOOOOLD," but then my mom distracted me by pointing to a lady and her dog who looked startlingly alike. This amused me for about five minutes, after which we were already in our cars and headed home.
Home is my grandparent's new place. They just moved in, so it was highly confusing and disorganized for a couple of days, until we figured what to do with our ten suitcases worth of stuff. All this time, however, we happily introduced ourselves to America's favorite past-time: eating. Because I am Muslim, I can't eat meat here, a serious disadvantage that has ruined my tummy's image of America as heaven. There are, however, a lot of Indians here. And I mean, a LOT. So yay, Indian food!
There is a chaat house near our place. The "chaat" is in orange, the "house" in green, and the background is white: they take their nationality seriously. The interior was deliciously Indian (all the more delicious because of the hot desi dude at the cashier), with a t.v playing Tamil songs and a miniature Taj Mahal at the entrance. The chaat was surprisingly good though, considering the restaurant looked more like a place for ugly desi college dudes to hang out rather than some place selling home-prepared Indian food. There was daal there too. Disappointing, since I crossed the seven seas to ESCAPE from daal. Well, I guess we all can't have everything.
More later, keep up the desi-ness. Take care!
Home is my grandparent's new place. They just moved in, so it was highly confusing and disorganized for a couple of days, until we figured what to do with our ten suitcases worth of stuff. All this time, however, we happily introduced ourselves to America's favorite past-time: eating. Because I am Muslim, I can't eat meat here, a serious disadvantage that has ruined my tummy's image of America as heaven. There are, however, a lot of Indians here. And I mean, a LOT. So yay, Indian food!
There is a chaat house near our place. The "chaat" is in orange, the "house" in green, and the background is white: they take their nationality seriously. The interior was deliciously Indian (all the more delicious because of the hot desi dude at the cashier), with a t.v playing Tamil songs and a miniature Taj Mahal at the entrance. The chaat was surprisingly good though, considering the restaurant looked more like a place for ugly desi college dudes to hang out rather than some place selling home-prepared Indian food. There was daal there too. Disappointing, since I crossed the seven seas to ESCAPE from daal. Well, I guess we all can't have everything.
More later, keep up the desi-ness. Take care!
Sunday, December 5, 2010
And the first score goes to...
The desis!
Seriously, pink trees? What is wrong with you, America?
Oh, and the electrical switches turn on the other way round. Retards.
Desis: 1
Amreekans: 0
Seriously, pink trees? What is wrong with you, America?
Oh, and the electrical switches turn on the other way round. Retards.
Desis: 1
Amreekans: 0
Monday, November 29, 2010
And the game starts...now
Most of my readers (in other words, everyone I can physically threaten into reading my blog) know I'm leaving for the USA really soon. It's going to take a while to settle there, considering I'm planning to be as desi as I possibly can just to annoy the hell out of other people - I'm even taking suggestions, guys! I've lived in Karachi all my life, and we have some pretty well-developed standards about a lot of things. For example, there should be Mountain Dew and hot guys to look at available at any given time during the day, and I should be able to park my car any damn where I want to (when I learn how to drive, that is). So, I'm starting a new feature on this blog, desi versus the United states of America. Minus marks for the amreekans for anything we desis to better. Right now, the score goes like this:
America: 0
Desi: 0
May the best man win!
America: 0
Desi: 0
May the best man win!
Friday, October 15, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
An ode to Google
I love Google. Google is the BOMB. If not for Google we would all be drooling, armpit scratching, barely developed orangutans without Facebook.
Yes, that bad.
This post is completely dedicated to the awesomeness of Google, and you know why? Because you can find about 5000 pictures of Orangutans on Google for no apparent reason at all. And because Google has actually saved my life. Multiple times.
See, in the Days Before Google (B.G. for future reference) I used to wake up at 4 AM in the morning and have a full fledged panic attack because suddenly, I could not remember how to spell "cat" and all at once it was of absolute, utmost importance to the very future of humanity to spell the word cat. It used to go a bit like this:
"Hmmm. I think I need some wat- wait, how did you spell cat again? It went like k, then a. No, that can't be right. It started with k, right?! or was it c? Oh man why didn't I ever pay attention in kindergarten, what kind of a kid forgets how to spell a three letter word for chrissakes! Brain, tell me how to spell freaking cat RIGHT NOW, GODDAMIT! Tell me or I will- I will fish you out with that hook ancient Egyptians used for mummies and turn you into soup I swear I will OH MY FREAKING GOD WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!!"
Don't judge me.
So, it used to get so bad that I got up and started walking around in dazed circles like some unique sort of drugged zombie-mummy. And then when my mom woke up for breakfast I grabbed her, giving her half a heart attack in the process, and asked her to spell "cat" for me, please. I then used to calm down and be normal again for a while until another morning when I couldn't remember what word it was that lighted up wands in Harry Potter and what the name of my fifth grade Science teacher was (it was Miss Ansari, in case you're interested). In the B.G. era, my mom used to live in a perpetual state of fear for my sanity...and her heart.
And then, in one amazingly glorious moment of rainbows and unicorns and golden sparkly thingys, God made Google. I'm writing God here, because I really have no idea who came up with the idea for Google and I'm too half-arsed to actually do research before writing a blog post about it.
The next time I woke up in panic trying to remember what those big animals who looked like monster lizards were called, (Komodo Dragons, by the way. You're welcome) instead of threatening my own brain with a fish hook, all I had to do was boot up my computer and type in www.google.com. Those three magic words. It was amazing. I had a world full of information and hot guys' pictures at my fingertips. It even corrected my spellings. And made me hot chocolate and got me pretty dresses and made me invisible when I wanted to be and gave me immortality.
No, really.
And ever since then, me and my sanity and Google were the very best of friends, and we all lived happily ever after.
The end.
Yes, that bad.
This post is completely dedicated to the awesomeness of Google, and you know why? Because you can find about 5000 pictures of Orangutans on Google for no apparent reason at all. And because Google has actually saved my life. Multiple times.
See, in the Days Before Google (B.G. for future reference) I used to wake up at 4 AM in the morning and have a full fledged panic attack because suddenly, I could not remember how to spell "cat" and all at once it was of absolute, utmost importance to the very future of humanity to spell the word cat. It used to go a bit like this:
"Hmmm. I think I need some wat- wait, how did you spell cat again? It went like k, then a. No, that can't be right. It started with k, right?! or was it c? Oh man why didn't I ever pay attention in kindergarten, what kind of a kid forgets how to spell a three letter word for chrissakes! Brain, tell me how to spell freaking cat RIGHT NOW, GODDAMIT! Tell me or I will- I will fish you out with that hook ancient Egyptians used for mummies and turn you into soup I swear I will OH MY FREAKING GOD WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!!"
Don't judge me.
So, it used to get so bad that I got up and started walking around in dazed circles like some unique sort of drugged zombie-mummy. And then when my mom woke up for breakfast I grabbed her, giving her half a heart attack in the process, and asked her to spell "cat" for me, please. I then used to calm down and be normal again for a while until another morning when I couldn't remember what word it was that lighted up wands in Harry Potter and what the name of my fifth grade Science teacher was (it was Miss Ansari, in case you're interested). In the B.G. era, my mom used to live in a perpetual state of fear for my sanity...and her heart.
And then, in one amazingly glorious moment of rainbows and unicorns and golden sparkly thingys, God made Google. I'm writing God here, because I really have no idea who came up with the idea for Google and I'm too half-arsed to actually do research before writing a blog post about it.
The next time I woke up in panic trying to remember what those big animals who looked like monster lizards were called, (Komodo Dragons, by the way. You're welcome) instead of threatening my own brain with a fish hook, all I had to do was boot up my computer and type in www.google.com. Those three magic words. It was amazing. I had a world full of information and hot guys' pictures at my fingertips. It even corrected my spellings. And made me hot chocolate and got me pretty dresses and made me invisible when I wanted to be and gave me immortality.
No, really.
And ever since then, me and my sanity and Google were the very best of friends, and we all lived happily ever after.
The end.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Why I should be kept away from guests (and normal people)
Because I'm an axe-wielding, fire-breathing half shark half dragon half voldemort monster thingy who eats whoever dares to enter her magnificent abode and rips out their still beating hearts and takes all their candy, of course.
Wait. Was that too many halves?
Anyway. No. The truth is much, much more sinister. Behold, THE GUEST-INATOR, TWO THOUSAND AND TEN!
Admit it. Sounds cool.
What is the GUEST-INATOR, TWO THOUSAND AND TEN, I hear you ask? Well, my desperate driven-to-being-hair clawing-screaming-mad men (and women, we don't discriminate here) hosts, it is a sure-fire way to get rid of all unwanted guests clogging up your house. And all that unwanted hair clogging up your...okay, lets not get into that. It looks a bit like this...
and this...
combined. And for an additional $19.99 you can get more knives and shiny stuff. Blows your mind, doesn't it?
So what does the GUEST-INATOR, TWO THOUSAND AND TEN do, I hear you ask? Well, firstly, besides looking extremely cool and being a must-have decoration piece for any living room (seriously, who wouldn't want one of these lying around), it also intimidates the hell out of your guests. It'll make sure that once a potential guest enters your house and sees this baby, he'll never want to come over again. EVER. Even on the threat of gruesome death. Even if your house is a zombie shelter and there's a zombie apocalypse going on. Even if they really, really need to go to the bathroom. Even if you have THIS in your house:
And there's a money back guarantee for the last one. Cuz its not like any of you are remotely capable of getting Megan Foz to come inside your house. But still, beat that.
But if this doesn't work, you can still try the ripping out beating hearts from bodies thing. Good luck with that, and make sure to keep the blood off the sofa!
Wait. Was that too many halves?
Anyway. No. The truth is much, much more sinister. Behold, THE GUEST-INATOR, TWO THOUSAND AND TEN!
Admit it. Sounds cool.
What is the GUEST-INATOR, TWO THOUSAND AND TEN, I hear you ask? Well, my desperate driven-to-being-hair clawing-screaming-mad men (and women, we don't discriminate here) hosts, it is a sure-fire way to get rid of all unwanted guests clogging up your house. And all that unwanted hair clogging up your...okay, lets not get into that. It looks a bit like this...
and this...
combined. And for an additional $19.99 you can get more knives and shiny stuff. Blows your mind, doesn't it?
So what does the GUEST-INATOR, TWO THOUSAND AND TEN do, I hear you ask? Well, firstly, besides looking extremely cool and being a must-have decoration piece for any living room (seriously, who wouldn't want one of these lying around), it also intimidates the hell out of your guests. It'll make sure that once a potential guest enters your house and sees this baby, he'll never want to come over again. EVER. Even on the threat of gruesome death. Even if your house is a zombie shelter and there's a zombie apocalypse going on. Even if they really, really need to go to the bathroom. Even if you have THIS in your house:
And there's a money back guarantee for the last one. Cuz its not like any of you are remotely capable of getting Megan Foz to come inside your house. But still, beat that.
But if this doesn't work, you can still try the ripping out beating hearts from bodies thing. Good luck with that, and make sure to keep the blood off the sofa!
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