Desi Girl Called Isheeta

I used to ruuuuuule the woooooorld.....

The only excuses one can have these days for not knowing this hugely popular song is:

1) You're a woman in labour, and your screams will be, justifiably, louder, than any screaming fan who will mouth these lyrics at every waking moment
2) You've been living under a rock in some war-torn country and ... prayers to God are more important at this time than some song about you ruling a *broken* world

It's a pretty hip song. I like it because I think if I were to be in labour these days, I'd want this song to play in the background. I realize that may sound retarded, but I think listening to this song would mitigate the pain... like, "I used to ruuuuuuuuule the woooooooorld, And now I'm giving birth to babiiiiiiiiiiesss...... with curllllsss" (I have curls). Hahahahaha! It would make me laugh, when I'd feel like my insides are being ripped apart, and when you are laughing, it will.... like.... help... like push the baby out?!?!?!

Um, yeah, never had babies, ok, so stop with the hating!

Over the last few years, I've gone from being a social butterfly to serious nesting. This is an inevitable phase for a girl, given, and I guess I'm no different. I get more excited with kitchen utensils and bathroom fixtures than new shiny clothes (shoes are still immune from this). Sometimes when I go over to my friends' places, and spot an awesome lamp or a killer dining set, I'll go home and google the piece and bookmark it.... for when I'll be...err, needing it.. for the future. It's sad, but thats how it is. Actually, its not sad, I just like plates and lamps, ok!

Now, of course, with the advent of a full-blown baby spurt among these same friends (summer is baby birth season, since winter is baby making season), its safe to assume my interests are veering to baby stuff. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaghhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GASP! What is happening to me?!!! It's like I'm going forward in time, regardless of whether I have these fixtures or not. Maybe its my biological clock subconsciously calling out, who knows. Or maybe its cuz everyone and their Hollywood spouse (see, Jolie, Angelina; Pitt, Brad) are having one of those, and it's just the cool thing to have them and I'm just going with the tide.

I got a call a week ago from one of my good friends I went to uni with. She has an infant now, and she confronted me why I've lost touch with her. I BSed her about my busy life, which she didn't buy, so I finally told her what was in my head. That she never seemed to make time for me, that I was not invited to post-baby cooing session, that now that she was married with a kid, she just never seemed to make time for her single friends, and I didn't want to push it.

Big mistake. Never argue with mothers - you can't win. It's funny how everytime I assume that I'm the woman that's been screwed with, I realize that there are other women who have been screwed a little more. She in turn told me how I've never taken the initiative to keep in touch - partly true. And how once you have a baby, all her friends suddenly are moms... which means she has been craving company with single people, for some non-baby adult conversation.... and being stuck with a baby 24/7 means.. well, a lot of restrictions. And how she wishes she could just go away anywhere without a thought in the world like I do. And how little things like uninterrupted sleep are so precious. And how while you are sort of complete now with a hubby and child, its not the be all or the end all.

This was a blow. That sort of sucks. I've been feeling like I've been on a constant roller coaster for the longest time. I've been feeling like my life has been a broken record with the same crappy music on a permanent loop. I know that once I am past the stage, I will have different sort of issues to deal with, which would be refreshing for a change. My parents can finally shut up and I can finally stop feeling guilty. And now, listening to a happily married woman listen to my stories while still expressing disappointment at her lacklustre, routine life, I couldn't help but feel even more disappointed than ever. Man. Don't issues ever stop surfacing? Even when we have everything (well, almost), can't we just ... accept, and be content, for a little while? It seems very teenagerish for me to contemplate such issues, because lets face it, its human nature to never be completely happy with all that we have. But to a singleton, its like, I have enough issues to deal with, ie my biological clock, my desire to settle down, I really don't need to know that THIS ... this blah existence of marriagedom is what I'm gunning for!

So I made plans with her.... I decided my whale-watching plans would have to wait another weekend. I set aside my day for her. Any time, I say. Lunch? sure! Lunch it is.

She calls me up, late, at noon, because that's when she woke up (baby schedule). I am excited to hear from her. She then cancels our lunch plan. You know, I know mothers have the hardest job in the world. But just because I'm not working does not mean my time is less precious than yours!

So. Whatever. Same broken record, same crappy music, different schedule.

Over the weekend, I got to spend some time with some lovely people who are a little more Canadianized than I am. They were immersed in an activity which can be described as a rite of passage for anyone attending a desi wedding in North America (ie performing Bollywood/Bhangra numbers for relatives weddings!). This was news to me. I watched them with awe, and at the same time I couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret... for myself. For what I have missed out. I've grown up in a few countries, so I can call myself international, but it came at a price, in that I never really went through *any* rites of passage. I didn't go to high school here, the education system was a shocker to me, my mindset is Westernized, but its rooted in more desi values than I'm willing to admit. 

I hate sounding like a cliche, but even though I had a priviledged childhood.... where I had it all, I really didn't. I guess this is universal. Grass. Greener. Other side.

I guess at that moment, I felt like I ruled the world, but it seems I came down dropped to terrafirma pretty fast. With a nasty bump. I think I lucked out in the growing up department.

When you've been at a place long enough, you learn to establish roots. It keeps you grounded, and makes you believe that if you don't make it here, you're bust. So you're motivated to give it your all. Sort of like how my dad did it. We moved every 6-7 years. It hasn't stopped. My brothers have all but moved back, one of them move every few years. And my parents won't stop at persuading me to do the same. My loyalty towards them makes me lean to their advice, or when I'm completely fed up of the system here. Unlike most people, I have a choice, and I guess when push comes to shove, when things get really tough, I teeter towards the easy way out. Cuz the easy way out, well, guarantees that you stop hurting. The easy way out means you can finally take care of YOUR needs. No more ignored intern requests! No more working like a slave for..... peanuts. The easy way out means you don't have to set aside your day for your mommy friend, only to be ditched last minute. The easy way out means being set up by your parents so you won't come across people who won't stop asking what is wrong with you and why you are still single. The easy way out means it's ok to be a domestic goddess cuz that is what is expected from someone who is used to taking the easy way out. The easy out would mean finally having babies like your mommywithbabies friends, and that to be the most normal thing in the world.

I do want to have babies. I think I want to have babies because I want to give them that childhood that I never had, the growing up part. I want them to go through those rites of passage with a steady stream of friends. I want them to not be adult-like at 11, so they can go through rebellious stage at 16 when they're supposed to, and not at 26. I want them to make friends that they grow up with, because those are the ones that mould your childhood experiences and shape your future. I know I can't always take care of them, but I'm pretty sure they will drive me nuts with a steady stream of problems, and I think they will be a refreshing change to the broken records kind with the same crappy music. I want them to.....uhm..... I want to give them everything, it sounds silly, because I don't have ANY such thing, but I want them to to....errrrr....

I want them to feel like they can rule the world - for just a little longer than I have been able to.

Honesty vs. Reality

I remember when the guy who seemed perfect husband material .. on paper... dumped me.

Before we met, we wrote many emails to each other. He called when he said he would. He made me laugh. He was cute. And funny. God, give me an ugly one-legged pirate any day over a rich sourpuss. As long as he knows how to laugh about life, I'm good.

Then we met. And it got better.

Why husband material? He loved kids. And with girls, you just know once you kiss a guy if he'll... err, do it for you for the long haul. I realize now that with guys its a little different. You need maybe a little more. Like fucking around.

So he wanted to fuck around, and I guess I really liked him, so... I said no.

And then it was like pulling teeth to even see him again. All the tell-tale signs were there. Making all the right excuses to avoid seeing me. Cutting me off mid-way during phone convos. Little hints that he was busy with work and friends' parties. His decline of my event invitations. I knew all of the signs. I just didn't want to accept it though. Well, not so much, some excuses were new to me... like being sick. WHO the hell stays sick for a month? I still accepted. Maybe he had a weak immune system, even for a guy that skydived and motorcycled...I wanted to believe. Like a typical girl in la-la land, I was ignoring the fact that I was the one initiating calls, texts, emails, the works.

Then one day, while I was in class, he called me. I was so crazy about him, I left the class to pick up his call. And when I told him that I was in between class, he laughed, called me silly and said to go back to class and call him when I was done.

I called him as soon as I was done class. I just didn't want to miss my golden opportunity. I mean, he *wanted* to talk to me! I was finally getting through to him! See, guys *can* be changed! After a few months of trying to get through to him, I was finally getting there!

And of course this is when he dumped me. It was pretty pathetic when you think about it. The only time he ever made an effort with me, was when he wanted to stop seeing me. I guess that was Guys 101 to me - guys aren't stupid when they don't call - they're just selective.

He made up some cock-and-bull story. I don't remember what it was, it must've been stupid cuz I can't even remember. I remember he was struggling with his words, and me trying to be the next Mahatma Gandhi, I thought I would take a stab at it.

I remember locking my door, sitting on my bed, and thinking to myself, wow, I can't believe I'm getting dumped. as. we. speak. There was a first time for everything, and it was happening before my very eyes. I was thinking how I had told him previously that I was a firm believer in honesty - how if you're someone in a relationship, and you don't feel for someone, that maybe there is no point in dragging it out, that maybe you should just say it. Its just better to say it instead of letting someone assume everything is roses, because it hurts shitloads after you have assumed so much, as opposed to when you have had no time to assume. I remember thinking "damn, honesty hurts shitloads and I'm not sure if I'll try this honesty business again because... isn't honesty NOT supposed to hurt? Isn't honesty supposed to fix everything, because you just get it out?! Honesty is supposed to fix everything, everything damn it, including the common cold, cancer, acne, stupid drive-through cashiers who always mess up the change!

I remember he was struggling with his words. He was saying things like, I really like you and you're an amazing person and a whole lotta clichés that you hear in Degrassi TV. I remember I was just swallowing air and trying to hold back the lump in my throat (such a drama queen, yes!) and thinking far far ahead as to how I was going to disappoint my mother yet again. Dammit, I can write pages and pages of politics that will keep one amused for decades but why is it that I couldn't keep someone interested in me long enough to want me for a few decades?! I remember trying to focus on his words, but they were so empty and so ridiculously clichéd that it was really easy to just go to la-la land.

I finally decided to be Mahatma Gandhi and told him that I'll make it easy for him. I told him that if he didn't feel for me in that way, its ok. I think he felt stupid when I took the Braveheart route. I told him that hey, I respected him more for telling me the truth. I told him that hey, maybe we can be friends. I even told him that I could be his wing buddy! I told him that I had some friends I could hook him up with. I told him so much crap that his head must've been swimming in a pool of diarrhea. I couldn't help it. I was afraid that if I stopped talking, I would break down and the lump in my throat would stop being a lump and somehow cause me to convulse and spew out salty tears. I knew that if I hung up the phone, I would cry like a moron and I didn't want to cry like a moron. I wanted to just pretend that being dumped by the guy who you had seen yourself introducing your parents to minutes earlier was one of the most normal, casual things in the world - like going to the gym, and I would just go back to sleep after I was done with the phone.

I didn't go back to sleep after I hung up. I cried like a baby in my pillow. I questioned my looks, my brains, my personality, my career, my lips, my hairbrush, my shoes, my camera, my stuffed animals, my clothes, my damned cat. I cried very quietly, in my pillow, in the dark. My mum, being psychic to her daughter's emotional needs, suddenly came into my room, and just started asking me a lot of questions. In between my sobs I told her. She hugged me and holding me in her arms just offered the only solution my mom has to this day to life's problems - Come to Dubai. Which I think made me cry even more, hahahahaha.

I don't know why I suddenly had to recount this story. I have since gotten over that moron. He wasn't a nice guy, in fact, he was a jackass. He was one of those memorable jackasses, those that teach you a thing or two about how you should stop being so damn gullible and start being more cagey with your heart.

I guess that story reminded me about honesty. How I had taken the initiative to being more honest with myself, my life, and expected the same from others. How I was tried of running away from people, and never really saying what I meant to such people. How I had decided that if I were to be more honest with others, I would get the same in return. I have since learned that you can be honest, but not tooooo honest at the same time. Because sometimes the truth does hurt, and not everyone can handle it, nor are they willing to welcome it nor accept it nor acknowledge it. There is a fine line with being polite to people and saying things for the sake of saying it - 'filtered honesty' to people that you don't necessarily know but you have to govern yourself in such a way around them so as to project that air of transparency, and ensuring they see that side of you in your character that spells your inevitable trustworthyness.

At the same time, while doing so, you fail to give a part of yourself that may have opened doors you weren't aware of. By restricting ourselves to this 'honesty filter', we may be holding back on our own chances of getting what we want if we were to be completely open to someone. I mean, to even tell someone these days that you like someone is one form of this. You might as well kill yourself if someone you like knows you like them, because the likee will freak out knowing he/she(liker) is the object of your affection. I know this is a really utopian thought, and I can see a lot of people rolling their eyes, so I'm going to shut up now, and really, lets face it... I don't know ANYONE who has been completely honest and has gotten everything they needed. In fact, by being less honest, it is probably more realistic to assume that one gets everything they want instead. 

People seem so perfect on paper. We read what's in front of us, and it is in our gut instinct to believe everything initially... to take that person for face value...for a split second. And then if we've been fucked around a little too often, we question it. Cynicism did not just spawn out of happy, utopian experiences. Cynicism is usually borne from a myriad of dog-eat-dog experiences in a crazy world. Its a survival tool, if you don't want everybody to walk all over you. And cynicism is going to come in handy when you don't want to be faced with a barrage of smoke and mirrors. Sometimes its necessary. Cynicism helps you look past things like apparent 'honesty' to look past a possible façade. Sometimes that may include ... making up little white lies.  To get your foot in the door.  And that's when you have a scenario when everything looks good on paper.

Just like how Prince Charmings look good on paper, until you expose the fraud. Just like how.. résumés look great on paper....

Until one day, the recruiters actually call you for a damn interview, because it seems my résumé finally looks good on paper.. and you realize you're the shit that's gonna hit the fan VERY SOON!

To the most important man in my life

Sorry Brad Pitt, you're going to have to sit this one out.

Growing up in a family of testosterone, I was the quintessential daddy's little girl. I wouldn't say I was spoiled, though, because my dad wasn't around too much during my childhood to spoil me (he was always overseas).   And then by the time I entered my teens, my dad made sure I never felt left out from his little corporate empire by assigning me budget reports. Day trips included, literally, taking inventory of containers of shipments - fair share like my brothers.

I think he bought me my first doll when I was 16 - by that time, I didn't even know what to do with it. I mean, what DOES a teenager do with a doll???? Coming here to Canada was a refreshing change. I got a break from work. It was like a dream - living the North American dream, just like the sitcoms on TV like Wonder Years or saved By the Bell! Rows and rows of identical houses in the suburbs, white kids wearing shorts and going to summer camp in the summers where they are teased mercilessly for their braces.  Proms! Dating. Archie comics were a reality! People going to schools in cars, or walking, or biking, and not being driven everywhere by drivers!  I don't know about my brothers, but having been an avid observer and reader of everything foreign, I just never took anything for granted. I had a lot of leeway from dad when I was in uni by this time. When my parents started a business here, I was so anti-family work that I didn't even step foot in the store. Everyone worked, except me. I was going to be some hotshot desi doctor or lawyer or engineer and would never have to do my version of child labour ever again!

Haha, that didn't pan out very well.  I think in between uni and delayed teenship, I somehow lost my way. I was just soaking up everything that I didn't know existed. It didn't stop then... after I graduated, I realized there was a whole world out there waiting to be discovered. Travelling!  Extreme sports! Night outs! All I did growing up was go to school and work. God, I was living a pleasure-less existence. There are kids in less developed countries who have far far less... who endure child labour by the time they can walk and who have to work ALL their lives to support their families. I have watched such kids grow up in my home country, and while I was grateful for my life, I just wanted to experience everything before my bubble burst. And because I was the only girl in a family of testosterone who probably would be ready to settle down sooner than you can say hello, I had to step on it!

It's been like that since. (Until of course, the snafu called looking for work turned up. Whateverrrrrr.) I'm one of those people whose last words before dying will be that I've experienced it all... all the good things in life! I think somewhere along the lines, I became a hedonist. Or lazy, I don't know. I like working, when I have work. And I'm pretty focused in something when I'm motivated to do it. 

Yesterday, I dropped my dad off to the airport. My dad was with me for a little more than a month this time around. It's been the most important test of perseverance for me. I don't think I've ever cried more this past month than my entire life. I cooked and cleaned every day. I came home early every night. I think I have watched a record number of crappy Bollywood films, so I have met my quota for my lifespan. I wanted to gouge my eyes when I had to endure an ocean of blue-eyed Indian soap stars in super-white filtered, vaseline smeared screens (that would give Barbara Walters a run for her money) dressed in their impeccable 100,000 Rs house saris complaining about why Payal's shaadi to Abhinash's brother-in-law's cousin's friend couldn't make it to the wedding because she was killed off by her evil mother-in-law who didn't want the incoming baby in her stomach to be born because ..... I don't know?!?!?!?!?! I took my dad to a few South Asian festivals where bhangra dancers danced with belly dancers as some young desi boybands crooned love in the ghettos with English and Punjabi (or was that hindi?).

The most excruciating part was the listening-to-advice part (Shameless plug: please go to Farah's blog for the importance of this). My dad never did a Masters or a PhD. He didn't have a rich daddy to fund his education. He was good in swimming (a lot of floods), so he swam in swimming competitions. He won trophies, and he would sell the trophies for money. He didn't go to camps, he didn't read a lot, he didn't dream about foreign countries and sit in front of his computer and apply to jobs over the internet. He got fired a few times from work, so he got fed up of being fired, and he decided to start his own business. His idea of extreme sports and travelling included smuggling himself in some ship that was travelling to countries where business opportunities lay. My dad never sat around and complained. He didn't read self-help books to learn about life or to figure out why people fuck you over and over again. He learned by observing people. He had to make sure his business survived, so he always worked. That helped him develop a keen intuition about business and life. But he never gloated about it. He just said it as he saw it. He was good to his friends - he gave his best friend a job in his company, and they both made names for themselves eventually. He didn't date (well not a lot, haha). When he realized he needed someone, he got married. Then he had kids. He didn't have a lot of money when he had us kids, but he didn't worry. He just figured he'd have to work extra harder for his kids.

I always remember how hard he's worked for us kids when I see his hands shake. They always shake now -  when he is drinking his tea, when he is driving, when he is injecting himself with insulin, when he is helping me in the kitchen by stirring the dishes ALL the time so we have curry juice instead of chicken curry! I think it has to do with age or his diabetes, I dunno (doctors, what say you?). He can reprimand me for all my career or boy choices, and I could get pissed at him, but when I see his hands shake, I am always reminded by all his silent sacrifices for us - for a better life for us - when I remember how a little boy who had nothing but his swim trophies increased my chances of a better life by giving it his all. How he got himself out of his little muddy house in some village in the third world to make sure I live in some mansion in a first world suburban Canadian neighbourhood where I get to travel and enjoy all the luxuries that he never did.

I don't know why is it that parents do so much for us. Maybe one day if I ever get to be a parent, I'll know. Right now I'm clueless. It's got to be some crazy gene that dictates this, because it really cannot be governed by rational, acquired decisions. Why would a parent keep giving and sticking out with you for so long after you continue to ignore their sane advice? If a daughter cannot see and learn from all the experiences that the parent has experienced, what will it take for the daughter to learn? Why is it easier to listen to strangers' advice, but you suddenly become deaf when the person who was responsible for bringing you into the world is giving it? Why do I feel like a lemming doomed to jump off that cliff, knowing full well its the point of no-return?

Why am I such a drama queen?! Why do I think so bloody much? Why do I have more questions than answers? Why can't I see that light? Why can't I find that damned job? No, we've discussed that to death, no more job posts, gaaaawd, give it a rest Ish!!!

Where was I?

Oh right, the airport, dad, tears, remorse. Everything jumbled up, all over again, just like a Bollywood flick.  *sigh* Where is the reset button for this life thing?!

(I'm fine, really, thanks for your concern! I just had to get it out, thats all).

In other news, anyone in Quebec/Ottawa??? I want to go whale-watching. I'm sick of the usual blubber in the mirror. Please leave a comment if interested.

Just DANCE!

I was going to make this one of those password-protected posts, then I realized I'd be depriving a lot of people of some much needed humour, or epiphanies. So I'll bare my soul here in public for the world to see!

As you know, I've been looking for a job. Nobody said it was going to be easy, and of course, over the past couple of months, it has been an extremely humbling, mind-numbing experience.

So far I've experienced everything from elation (at being called for interviews) to severe depression (at being told I wasn't qualified enough enough... or not even being told anything) to post-traumautic stress (waking up in the middle of the night thinking nobody wants me cuz I am useless!) to bargaining with God (I will give Qurbani/go to Hajj if I get a job) to non-chalance (fuck it, who needs a job anyways).

Nothing can make one feel more useless these days than knowing that nobody out there requires your skills or your brains. Pfffffffffftttttttt!!

It shouldn't be such a big deal, this job business. Because eventually, one day I will realize that maybe I wasn't cut out for THIS job, or eventually I will find something better, or eventually, something completely different will stumble into me.. or vice-versa. The reason, though, that it is such a big deal, at the moment is, well, not having a job can take a toll on your self-esteem.

Sure, I have a LOT of support. I have YOU bloggers with your positive attitude (!!!) who make me laugh and smile (Nazia and Takilla and OH and Farah and random lurkers and Zen and everyone.. sorry if I forget to mention your names.. but I do stalk you on a daily basis). I have my parents telling me its no big deal. I have my friends who have even offered me jobs thru this blog (!!), I have everyone else who is not in HR who really can't do much but say all the right things to make me smile. When you have a wide support network, you feel like you can conquer mountains. And for that, I am grateful.

The reality is, of course, that society, ie the people who don't know you personally, will judge you because they will think something is wrong with you if you don't work or cant get one. Fuck society, right, thats what you'll say. Easier said than done, my pretty petunias. You live *with* society, you can't screw them all. You don't have to agree with it, but you will probably have to listen to what they have to say. 2 different things.

Anyways. What's my point. I have even resorted to non-traditional ways these days. I have contacted people who thought they were doing a great job hiding underneath that radar. They say that if you don't ask for help, you won't get it. I'm not afraid to ask for help. In fact, I'm stalking for help these days, because at the end of the day, I really have nothing to lose. I'm not asking for something embarassing or degrading. I'm asking for help/advice/suggestions. I'm asking for an opportunity.

I have done a lot of legwork so far. In fact, I am this close to making some sort of CD highlighting my many, err, skills and qualifications.... (noo, you dirty pervs, not like THAT!) just to get their attention. If I was any good at this making videos business, it'll be a reality.

The human spirit is very malleable. At best, it can be best described as ironic. If you were to highlight poverty or violence, in the media, and if you do that very effectively, you will most likely be successful in eliciting sympathy (and/or donations) from the right crowd. You have cynics who may not agree, but you get the point across.

The human spirit, at the same time, can fall to deaf ears. If you're highlighting something that has been done over and over again, chances are not everyone will fall for the same crap again. So I could ask someone who has been there a bit of help, and if I'm not effective at asking, I won't get it.

I've teetered at both swings so far, more so the latter. I've had the door slam on me by people who have pretended to care before, and now they really couldnt give a flying fuck. In fact, I've been through that so many times, that I don't even remember half the people who have lied to me. And when I do recall the odd moments, I just shrug. I'm not bitter, I guess this is reality, this is what every single human being have gone through at some stage in their life while hunting for jobs, so I think this is quite normal. I guess what confounds me is the human spirit. How we go through SO MUCH CRAP, and how after we have recovered from it, we forget it SO EASILY. Maybe not so easily, but you get my point - how we just pick ourselves up, get up, brush off that dust, and just continue with our lives. It's the same after a loved one has passed away.

And I guess at the same time, this is where I see the irony. Gabriel Garcia Marquez put it best when he said "The heart's memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good; and thanks to this artifice we manage to endure the burdens of the past."

So one day, the same people who had gone through so much shit make it big, and because it is so easy for us to forget, we watch idly by as someone else goes through the same shit. I'm not complaining, I'm just saying, this is how it is. I will probably be no different if and when I survive this... phase, haha.

But I hope ... I hope..... when my time comes... I won't slam any doors or anyone's face. I hope I will remember the shitty times, and give that person that chance that I never had.

Right now, you have to see this. If all else fails, everything...... just.. DANCE! (I would recommend going to the Youtube link and watching in High Quality).

Sorry about the disappearing act... I just had so much s*** to do all of a sudden.

SO. A few years ago, it was the season of weddings. Every Tom, Dick and Ganesh I knew was getting married. I swear, if anyone else invites me to a wedding, I will probably extend that invite out to the closest terrorist out there to be my date. Thank God thats over. Now its progress of a different kind. Everyone is having babies instead. Which is a little better (and less costly! hahaha) for me cuz I love babies! They poo all day and keep their mommies busy.... way better to be a friend of a new mommy who coos about the color of their baby's poo than a friend of a new bride who coos about the size of the rock she is sporting.

The job situation is going as best as poss. I'm making progress. I have graduated from the "Why does everyone hate me" stage to "Nobody loves me" stage to "I applied to THIS job?! Bleagh!" to "Hire me already, you Dumbass!" stage to "Ooh, another job to spam" stage. None of the rejection letters are now considered personal. In fact, I welcome them. I even applied a position in Quebec City, so now I have rejection letters in French. Which is awesome, I feel like Ms International Most Useless Woman Of the Year! In fact, I prize these rejection letters, because when I do make it big one day and get that Honorary degree from that Ivy League uni for being that It Woman of the Century For Inspiring Change/Jumping Off Cliffs, I am going to name every recruiter, Director, whatever dipshit out there and HellHathNoFury on them for not giving me the chance to work for them FOR FREE.

A little drastic? Mmmmm.. yeah.... I am inspired by insanity.

So, what else is new? Sorry I haven't been posting.. I swore to myself that if I wrote another pathetic post, I'd throw myself off a high-rise first. So I've been doing a bit of soul searching instead... and hitting the gym :D Which reminds me, nothing feels more amazing than being told that you lost weight, BUT reprimanded for losing weight because apparently the boobs are the first to go if you lose weight, and apparently to ensure the constant presence of fuller boobs, one should forego losing weight. Hahaha... men, they're so simple. They want it all.

Why guys, WHY, do you want it all?

PMSing

It's funny how people enjoy my pissed off posts, when I'm throwing a hissy fit.. I guess I can see why. It's the same reason why I love it when that crazy chef from Hell's Kitchen (the ONLY reality show I can handle) makes everyone feel worse than monkey piss when they mess up in his kitchen.

Lately, I've been on a constant PMS mode. There are a few things that has been pissing me off royally, but I've held my tongue because... I've realized something. That while people LIKE reading/watching the pissed off woman blowing off someone's head, they don't really want to associate with her. Sad but true. I mean, I think Simon Cowell and Chef Ramsay are hilarious, but lets face it, they are assholes. I wouldn't want to raise my kids around them! Would you want to hang around me, in real life? I think not. I mean, even though my rants are strictly blog-based and I'm a passive aggressive beeyotch, and I'm an angel to people I like, if you piss me off, given what you have read of me so far, I wouldn't be someone you'd want to cross paths with, am I right?

Hmm.

Anywhos, my poor dad has been the subject of my constant PMS lately. Yesterday I practically bit his head off! Sometimes I am so irritable, its ridiculous. AAAAAAAAAAgh, little things piss me off. I mean, ok, do I talk fast? For those that have seen my videos, do I talk too fast? Why do I find myself constantly repeating EVERYTHING I say? How S-L-O-W should I speak so people can catch up and answer without going "uh" and me going "dohhhh!" And then I am SO irritable that I roll my eyes and breathe loudly so they can hear and then I make them feel *this* small.

Remember Curly Frickin Fry? He was that turd who called me clingy (go back a few angry posts). Well, that twat is STILL calling me. After 2 months. I dont get it. I mean, I have ignored ALL his calls. I told him that I dont have time for him because well, he said we have nothing in common and he called me clingy when he was the clingy and wtf should I waste / spend my precious weekend for dinner with him, when I can have the same pleasure with my macaroni and cheese in front of the telly? Now he is running after me. Not even running, he is sprinting, he would give the Olympians a run for their money. He is like a frickin parasite, a virus if you will, because he just won't go away! I must be the only girl idiot in Canada who went out with him, hahahahahahahahahhahaha! And when he calls, he just pretends like he is all cool. Cool for a turd, ya you stupid shit!

Oh oh, get this. Lawyers. Ok! I will be honest, I wanted to be a lawyer once. Justice and all those lies. But of course, I wasn't smart enough to get in to one, and my grades were awful as well. One thing that attracted me to law school was all the writing (besides arguing). I love writing. Especially technical stuff. You know the lawyer linguise.... where every other word is and thereof and hereof, and aforementioned clause and in lieu of this extenuating circumstances and paragraphs and paragraphs of words with commas and no periods. So anyways, I'm talking to this lawyer, and to cut a long story short, it is obvious he wants to get my attention. And since he notices I'm interested in certain evolutionary theories (in light of current dating practices such as how people have not really evolved, but more so regressed in terms of moral behaviours), he decides to espouse some theories of his own. Which was nice. At first. And so we have a constant banter back and forth about this very interesting topic. And more back and forth. And the thing is, if youre going to have agreements throughout this banter, its best to change topic and y'know, move on to something different, or something light.

What does this yeehaw do? He keeps repeating the topic. He keeps extrapolating the arguments. I tried to put something light in between. Hey, its Mandela's bday, the dude is 90! He keeps theorizing some more about the same topic. Beat a dead horse, much? Yeah smarty pants, I get it. Ok! You're an Osgoode grad, yeah, you're smart. Yeah I can keep up with the conversation all night baby, I WRITE, I can fix words, but I'm not here to defend a doctoral thesis on email. If I wanted to go to grad school, I would have.. very well paid some Admissions Committee to! Just because I said that I don't want someone to ask me my boobie size, does NOT mean that I want to discuss the dominant human socialization theories as to why men are dogs all night! Ya nerd, let it go! Youve impressed me, next stage, please.

Which brings us to the next topic. The reason why desi guys and girls are single everywhere (where I am) is because desi girls have progressed/changed... tis summer, and while 5 years ago, I would never have seen a desi girl in tank tops or mini skirts, now its common. Ok, no biggie, they have the body for it. Desi guys, well, they dont like it so much. I mean, yeah that skirt is nice on the floor of his Honda Civic or RSX Acura Integra whatever while he makes out with her, but not when he has to introduce her to his parents or cousins. Hmm. This doesnt piss me off, that it just makes me laugh because of the sheer stupidity there.

My job hunt - a fact of life. Did you know, that the senior directors of my profession will be extinct in the next 10 years? So that would pave the way for me to hold that lucrative spot in the next 10 years, right? Will I get there at this rate? Well, no, because I'm not good enough for these guys because I have ZERO experience. And since I have no experience, I cant get into this field. And so, the universal constant Catch 22 of life - no experience, no job. No job because of no experience. I'm not pissed at this either, because apparently I haven't licked enough boots or kissed enough asses as yet to warrant me a kickass job. Thats fine. But in a few years time when the industry will be mired in stagnation because of industry's refusal to give someone a chance FOR FREE, I will pull a Mariah Carey and put up a massive pink/lavender advertisement in Empire States Bldg telling them I Told You So!

And finally my last PMS rant - Hollywood - bleagh, nuff said. That Bin Laden creep would have gotten more attention if he lived up to his name and laid a few hollywood skanks instead if he really wanted attention. WHY is there more BREAKING NEWS (!!) about why Madonna and Guy Ritchie sleeping in separate beds and rumours of impending divorce than say, rigged elections in Zimbabwe or the global food price/oil crisis or cancer drug development or some man selling his life on e-bay? WHY? Why is everyone so obsessed with some dolt called Spencer from some teen bimbo soap who is apparently really stupid? WHO IS THIS TURD? WHO CARES?! Has he fixed global warming? Is he more boring than Al Gore? Is this guy the pregnant man? Does he have 10 balls? Someone explain this to me? Is he funnier than Stephen Colbert? Can he fry eggs on his nails like Chuck Norris? Why is this breaking entertainment news?! Why are we rewarding stupidity!!!!!!!!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaagh! Ok! I'm done with my rant. I wasnt really pissed when I started, but now I'm just annoyed. Oh well, c'est la vie. I would like to hear from some of you people. Ok, I know I usually talk about more important matters in this blog (like ME), but now I want to hear if you have rants. This way, I get to see if I'm normal. And compare me. I mean, am I a socially acceptable person because of ... me and my oh-so-honest rants ? Am I just good reading material? Or am I real-life worthy?

The ups

I would first like to thank to all the people who contacted me and expressed their concern re: last post.

You know how sometimes you want to say something, like some deep feelings or expressions of gratitude, and you can't really say it because you're too busy thinking of it, so all you do instead is just nod and hug and shake your head like a jack-in-the-box and hold the lump in your throat? Well, thats how I am... I talk the talk in this blog, but I cant for the life of me express anything vocally, in real life. I just assume they get my appreciation amidst all the noddings. So I hope you get it too right now.

I realized that the situation I had immersed myself with lately has been that of apathy. Which I find a bit repulsive, because I'm usually an optimistic scream-out-loud kinda person. SO I'm going to make a positive, conscious effort to being normal again.

Which brings us to something normal, such as vacations.

I usually like to go to warm, sunny places for my holidays. The best part about those kinda warm holidays is that you get to pack light. Bikinis don't take up much room, and neither do summer dresses... which leaves a LOT of room for... SHOES! YES! You knew that! A purple medal, please!

I was in a bit of a conundrum as to where to go away this summer, the brochure to hell seemed very appealing.... like I said, you get to pack light! But, I figure they havent made SPF 666 million yet, so I will have to give it a pass for the time being.

And since I have no money, I figure I'll keep it localish, so its going to be Houston (July end) and Boston (mid Sept). Anyone out there who wouldnt mind giving me tips or saying hello? I'd prefer Isheeta lovahs, btw, I think I will have a crappy time with people who hate me.

Can avocados make you fat? I have something to confess - I was always motivated for sushi because some of the rolls come with avocado this and avocado that.. and right now it is my latest addiction and obsession. I LOVE the soft creamy texture and taste of avocado. Just plain old avocado. You know how some people love guacamole? Well, I tried it and its not the same as an avocado... I mean, I eat avocados like I eat apples. I can eat it plain. You know how some people just eat a few slices here and there? Well I want to eat the damn thing like its a fruit from the heavens. So, in your experience, is this bad? Should I curb my latest devotion?

The job search is faring worse than a Bollywood film where they sing English rap/hip-hop?????? (for pete's sakes) WITH ridiculous SUBTITLES, but thats no reason to wanting to bomb the pharma industry, so I figure if I dont make it by Sept end, I'll swallow my pride and go back to Dubai and actually start earning some money and just... accept my reality.

I'm going to be able to put down "Moonwalking skills" in my resume very soon... and if THAT doesn't pique those bastards' interests, then I am definitely resigning from my vacation in Canada. Is "spotting a killer bargain/sale" a skill? I think so. I mean, it shows excellence in being detail-oriented and multi-tasking abilities, yeah? Also, any French speakers (BERNARRRRDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!) out there who know of a better place than Alliance Francaise/Berlitz where I can brush up my French? I was looked over for 3 positions because my French is not upto par... apparently voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir is not enough of an incentive nor a requirement to be hired these days.... which doesn't explain why Moulin Rouge hit the billboards. Pffffffffft! They should be so flattered and so lucky... AS IF I'd actually follow through with it!

Its almost the long weekend, Canaduh and America! What are your plans?! OH WAIT, its the long weekend for me EVERY day, so no, I don't really want to know what your plans are, because most probably I will want to ruin it or kill you out of the sheer jealousy that I dont have long weekends to look forward to!

Guys - no news since I have no interest and will remain apathetic about this species.

JT - wth are you?!

Ummm, thats it. Pretty regular broadcasting for now, but its better than one of those uber-serious posts! They can really take a toll on someone these days. Plus who like a grump? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOBODY!

Speaking of which, today, while out shopping, I saw a guy trip. It was hilarious. And life is grand all over again!

Sacrifice

 A pretty personal post, and I don't want any random dipshits who don't know dip about me to tell me that I think too much and tell me to shut up... so I've password protected it.

Sacrifice

If you want the password, please leave a comment with ur email (it wont show up here).

One of *those* light-bulb posts

It's been a crazy week and a half. I've become a housewife.

Yeppers, and I'm not even married.

It's not even Christmas and I'm seeing miracles sprouted at/to(??????????) me left, right and centre.

Ok, first. Salute to all the mommies in the world. I used to wonder how they did it, now I know how.

My dad is back in town. My mom didn't come with him (she's getting treated in Doobs, 'nuff said). My baby bro is somewhere in China. The rest of my family is in Doobs. My precious cat is... in the backyard.

So for the past week and a half, its just been me and my dad. It's been... interesting, so far.

When my bro left for his Asian trip, I was left alone in my house for a few days. In those 72 hours, I went through everything from being ecstatic (walking around the house in panties and bras), to being terribly lonely (this is where it starts! I'm going to die alone!! I've already got the prerequisite cat!!!) to being self-sufficient (I now know how to turn on the DVD & TV AT THE SAME TIME) to being completely at peace and content with my life so far (I don't need anyone anymore).

I wish my parents pulled a Home Alone on me a long time ago, I had no idea that is all one needed to gain that sense of inner peace and zen and all that jazz. The self-help industry rakes in millions by selling the same message over and over again about the meaning of life and how one can better oneself in different messages and hardcovers, on unsuspecting souls looking for redemption and validation in their hum-drum lives... when one can gain this inner sanctum very easily by just eating flax cereal and pineapples in a quiet little room. Presto!

My dad, thinking the whole world had left me for dead, took pity on me and decided to keep the spirit alive.
He was sadly mistaken when he assumed I was lonely and all. I mean, I'm bored because I'm hunting for a good job, but I'm not lonely.

My dad, if you've read before, is quite a character like my mum. Unlike most dads, he's the coolest. I mean, the guy gives ME dating tips... so 'nuff said.

The whole circle of life theory goes along with the lines of how one day, we will become our parents. So I guess that's what I've been doing. He runs a massive company at home, but you still have to teach him how to turn on the DVD (I know.... the blind leading the blind). He loves Devdas, he mustve seen it a million times by now. He's got a really sharp memory, while mine is that of a goldfish. So far I've taken him out to the pharmacy, grocery shopping, car dealerships, doctors' appointments, his friends .... he's a businessman, so I guess he gets bored and I have to keep him amused. We don't do dinners, because he's diabetic and he's got special food requirements... plus my mum has spoiled him, so I have to make sure there are 3 meals at home every day. Sometimes he comes over to my room when I'm applying to jobs which I won't hear back from, and he'll tell me how Dubai is the place to be and I should strike it while the rod is still hot... and then he'll quickly tell me that at the end of the day, the choice is up to me, whatever I end up doing.

I'll try to keep him amused and entertained, but only for so long. He doesn't have a lot of friends here, so I'll look up his phone book and try to hook him up with his ..colleagues. We went to one guy's place last week, somewhere in Hamilton.. and it's like I've become a new driver again, cuz he will give me directions even though I know the place realllllllllllllly well! Today I had to explain to him that Erindale Station Rd is not really a station, its a road, and that was hilarious! He will always instruct me on which roads to take, and sometimes I'll think that maybe he should be driving instead, and then I will remember that his hand shake when he drives ...and its not because he is scared or anything, its just that he is getting older.

Last week he asked to come to my job fair. I politely went, "Nooooooo, you'll be bored, why don't you stay home and watch TV?!" "No, its ok, I wont venture too close to you, I'll mind my own business!"

I couldn't say no. He must be so bored without my mum. I took my dad to my job fair.

My weekends and my summer are shot. My mum won't be coming home anytime soon. I can't go away anywhere for more than a few hours. Forget long weekends or weekend away trips. Oh wait, every day is a weekend for me, I am without work! I went out last weekend, and didn't come home till late. He goes to bed by 11. He's so cute, he called me to tell me that he's going to bed, and asked instructions on how to secure the house with the alarm. I figured it'd go off anyways, so I told him not to worry about it and I'll come home soon. Next morning, he told me there was a strange cat looking in (its a stray that comes around cuz... err, I feed it) and he was scared. He tried to scare it away, but it was toooo friendly. My daddy was scared of a cat and its strange eyes. It's too cute.

I'm not complaining. When I was young, I didn't spend any more time with my dad than my brothers. We all worked with him, and we have all seen him younger and robust. Now, he's so sweet and funny, but sometimes he's....Yesterday, seeing me pottering around the kitchen, he said he felt for me. I asked him why. He said, "I don't know how you live like this. You have no one. It's a very depressing life, living a life of solitude. You used to go out a lot."

I had to laugh. I don't know how to explain to him that I'm anything but. Ok. I have no job. No boyfriend. No social life. BUT. I'm not desperate. I'm not lonely. I'm not poor. I'm not limbless. I'm not without faith. I'm not transport challenged. I'm not completely ugly. I'm not living in a country where I'm being bombed. I enjoy little things in life like Sex & The City and shoes and chocolate. I have great family. I experience the beauty of innocence every day when I hear about my nephew. I'm not super smart but I can string a sentence together. The job will come. The money will come. I have everything, it's just... delayed. Like when you've bought a house and the builders keep pushing back the closing date, but you know you will eventually get it.

My dad just smiled at me. I told him its nice to have things. Its ALWAYS nice to have things. Things you need, and things you don't need. But sometimes, things are so much simpler when you don't have anything, and sleeping alone in my big lonely for a few days made me realize that. All the self-help books in the world prepare you for the worst. But when the worst comes, who really has the time to read the self-help books? You're too busy trying to make sense of the worst, let alone confront your demons.

I'm ok with going through a miserable time, I wouldn't call not having a job miserable... it's just the way it is. C'est la vie. Everyone must go through miserable moments to appreciate the good moments. I think compared to most people, I have it fairly easy. I'm not taking it for granted, but I'm not sitting idly and doing nothing either. I'm the hottest shit out there, with or without a job. There are people out there who will look past my qualifications, but that's just business, and there will be something better.... recession or not. I think it's great to embrace the miserable moments and get them done with, because you can actually look back and say you've got your head out of the sand concrete with flying colors.

And that is how, one day, I will rake my millions. Not by writing my own self-help book shmuck. Not by selling my pipe dreams. But by embracing my so-called miserable moments, and remembering the elation of having everything, by not having anything.

Still alive...

... sorry haters.

Be back tomorrow, new season but same damned time of An "Ishtar" Is Born.

Love, Sex And The City

Having been a die-hard fan of this TV phenomena, I couldn't wait to drag my beautiful shoes, dress and ass to the premiere of this much-awaited movie.

Women across the world were waiting for this movie with pins and needles and dreams of Carrie's giant floral dresses.... (which was the hottest dress to me in the movie...)

This was the TV show that gave credibility, legitimacy, validation and empowerment to women when it came to enduring the trials and tribulations of dating rituals in North America and the free world.

A friend once ranted about this show. As a guy, he couldn't see what the big deal with SATC was. *rolls eyes*

To which I mildly responded about how Sex And The City *is* to women what cars/ women/ video games/ steak/ sports/ cricket/ soccer/ Baywatch /Star Wars/ Star Trek/ UFC/ cosmo mags/ Wii/ XBox/ girls in sexy clothes/ girls in shalwars/ girls period/ every tech toy out there ... *is* to men.

SATC is ridiculously funny. Samantha is tactless but hilarious in a deadly honest way. Carrie is realistic and romantic and in love, but she's so human and frail because she is flawed in so many ways like all the women out there. Charlotte can be highly unrealistic with her optimism and cheerfulness, but thats why she is so adorable. Miranda is every strong woman out there, and who doesn't want to be strong and feminine at the same time?

It is about *every* single woman out there ... in North America, Europe, even in desi world (where youre not milking cows as a day job).

It is about every woman out there who aren't getting what they want from their husbands/boyfriends/significant others.. even if they say they are.

My married friends love it. My single gfs love it. Guys love it... true, they will never admit to it.... but find me one guy who hasn't laughed out loud or rolled their eyes at these women's antics, and I will find you a ...50 year old virgin. Even autijis love it. It's the women's "Entourage". I declare that the women at SATC should be presidents and will do a better job running the country than dirty politicians and their dirty laundry!!!

I thought all of this until I saw the movie....

Yep. I *hate* to say this, but I have to admit, SATC: The Movie was disappointing. I guess I had high hopes and expectations for this movie... like how a single mother who worked night shifts so her son could become that world famous neurosurgeon would be disappointed to know that he flunked his MCAT's and had been moonlighting as a truck driver.

The clothes were fabulous. The shoes were bolder and sexier.The colours as rich as the Sultan of Brunei. Big looked like he hadn't aged a day and can still melt you to butter with his...manliness. The women looked more fashion conscious than I could remember, but whatever, still looked beautiful.

But there was something missing. Something that the half hour shows didn't disappoint you with.

The movie was a stark indicator that if you don't find someone at a certain age, it's not the end of the world. That 40 is the new 30! That life still goes on, despite being a bride stood up at the altar. That friendships still last, even if you have pooped your pants in front of them. That designers will continue to make more beautiful sexier shoes. That you will still have that gay friend to go shopping with. That you WILL get over the misery of having your heart broken, MANY TIMES, by the one you love. That Valentine's and New Year's can be a lonely time and will NOT be the same without having that special someone by your side. That having friends are important in such times. That the person you may end up spending the rest of your life with will not necessarily be the one you had fallen in love with at first sight, but that guy who you stuck with and grew to love... despite his infidelities, despite his breaking your heart umpteenth times.

BUT.

At the same time, it sucked a bit. How can a woman love someone SO MUCH, and the guy be so clueless about it? How can a guy take someone for granted, after having been with that woman for SO LONG and telling her that he only wanted her? How can he break someone's heart, because of what he heard from an angry woman at the spur of the moment? I mean, didn't he have his own BRAIN to think things through?! Did it melt into mush like all the women's hearts he melted previously? How can she turn around what she had wanted so long so easily, just to.... I dont even know what she's even turn around so easily, so frankly I can't even explain that. How can she just go back to him.. JUST LIKE THAT after seeing him once?!

MAN!

I thought it lacked depth. Love isn't something one can switch on and off. But apparently, in the SATC Movie, it can be done. Yes, there was a lot of moping involved from both sides, for a while, but.... I can't explain it. Maybe one has to be in love with someone for 10 years to make it look THAT easy.

I wouldn't know. My idea of love has nothing to do with love at first sight. It's to do with missing someone when they're away. It's do with wanting the best for the other person. It's to do with comfort. It's to do with laughing with that person. It's to do with thinking of him randomly on a busy day when your world is collapsing and he is that one bright spot in that busy day. It's to do with giving it all, and expecting nothing... well, almost nothing, lets be real, you want SOME of that back, otherwise its just one of those things called lust. It's to do with growing old with the idea of growing old with the one you love.

I found the movie could have touched on that, because while Carrie's love for Big spanned the Beginning of Time, Big's love for Carrie... was only realized and really took birth after he broke her heart. And then I realized why the movie disappointed... it showed that facet of *reality* that no one really expected from the characters. Women of the world expected a lot more give and take, Carrie to finally say a big fat no to being treated like crap, or Big and Carrie to have finally come together with fireworks... when nothing of the sorts happened.

It showed that in this day and age of MeMeMe, that people DO compromise, post-infidelity or not... love is more than just a pair of Manolo Blahniks, forgiveness is not so far-fetched, it IS possible for guys to mess up and later grow into love with that person and after ALL of that......it is possible that hopes and dreams do come together not under fireworks but under quiet moments spent in shoe closets with the right person.

I think I missed the fireworks. You can't just give us ammo for fireworks (all the hype!) and then expect us to be happy with quiet candle moments. Yes, that is life, nothing is certain nor consistent like guys, but well, that's the least one can ask from a cult show!

Conversations with God

Dear God,

If you give me a job CAREER by the end of this week, I will give Qurbani. 6 months ahead of schedule, but I promise. I cant take this anymore. I have no money, but I'll dip in my negative Line of Credit just to keep my word. I'll even sell my damned shoes in Ebay.

Or I'll Qurbani myself. This little butter knife is sharper than it looks. Yesterday I cut my F-off finger with it. So You KNOW I can cut off arteries with it.

You've been warned. I'm sure you've got real issues to deal with, and so do the police here in suburbiaville, so I'm sure you'll think really good and hard about this.

Sincerely,

Your faithful BiPolar Slave

One shot of insanity, please, and I'll have that to go... while I'm floating in limbo...

So as I had been whining lately, I've been sick and all. Since I hate hospitals and general health care professionals and the pill popping industry (although I am prospecting for a career in this field, yes), I thought I could get well by just thinking happy thoughts instead.

Big mistake. That's like saying, "If I close my eyes, maybe selective earthquakes would hit all dipshits of the world and strategically earthquakize them", which as we know is... a linguistic crime, albeit acceptable capital punishment.

SO I didnt get well. I got worse. I attended a lovely wedding at the end of the week, which may change my outlook on weddings... but only because the food was good and I had fabulous gorgeous company!!  I guess there IS a first time for everything! I also proceeded to make myself more sick in the process by indulging in more cold but oh-so-delicious mango ice cream. Because yes, that is what a girl needs when she is coughing up dry coughs like its going out of style, MORE sandpaper-throat causing food. I never learn.

I got home, crashed, and then I woke up dizzy, lightheaded, and the whole world spinning and buzzing like a bad discotheque minus the strobe lights but with a messy messy room. My body literally felt like rubber, I felt as if I had no spine, I couldnt even walk. And then for some ungodly reason, I tried to make sense of it all by talking to myself, telling myself that something is seriously wrong with me. The food last night, as good as it was, did not go very well with my cold/flu. I went over to the washroom and .......(sorry readers, I know you still love me hahahahahahaha)

My body was tingling all over, I couldnt feel anything beyond that, so I thought I should go down to the basement where my brother slept since maybe he could drag my ass to the hospital. I almost fell down the stairs (this would have been funny to watch dammit) the basement was so much cooler, I realized that maybe I was dehydrated and my blood was boiling and that could explain my dizzyness. So I thought, ok, when one is dehydrated one needs salts, yeah? Electrolytes and shit (grade 10 Bio, I dunno!). I thought, hey bananas have Potassium, maybe my Na+/K+ pump are not working, the ATP is not being generated for energy, my action potentials are not firing and thats why Im tingling all over and weak and...... (GRADE 10 BIO nonsense again!), so I grab a banana and chew a pinch of the banana then tried to close my eyes... and all I could think of was, "So this is what its like when youre dying".

I could see flashing neon lights like Vegas, I could see faces of my mom and dad, and thought a bit about my brothers and sister in law and my precious nephew, and then random thoughts like planes and world in general and kids and I thought, well, Im not reallyyyyyyyyy afraid of dying if this is how it is... its not so bad. Plus its ok I didnt feel like God would hate me for dying, even though I'm always pissing Him off. Its ok, its the weekend, it'll be a quiet day to die.

I kept on thinking I know a few doctors in the States, I should call them up and ask them what's wrong with me, why cant I get up and why am I paralyzed, and then I thought.... wait, its the weekend, Pamela is probably sleeping in Houston now, dont want to wake her up....... and Bobby in Michigan is probably on call so he'd be too busy to respond, maybe I'll just dial 911 instead because its not like they can call 911 in Toronto from America, can you? No, maybe I'll just close my eyes and they wont miss me too much...

And then I realized I had tickets to Sex And the City at the Varsity, and if I die, I will never know if Carrie married Big or not!

I yelled amidst the dry coughs to my brother, to drag me to the walk in clinic, and he rushed me over... where I waited for another hour. My tingles returned, I couldnt breathe, my head was ready to explode, I could feel my mouth dry up, I walked up from the waiting room, past all the nurses and doctors, struggled to find the washroom. It said, knock, so I knocked. Nobody answered. So I turned on the knob, and its locked. Noooooooo, I was about to collapse because I knew I was going to give birth to vomit, and then some lady saw me and ran to open the door, and I went to the sink, then teetered to the toilet, and just threw up the inch of banana I had an hour before. I had tears streaming down my face, my stomach convulsing, my face beetroot red.

Then I heard the voice that gave me new life... the voice of a kindly Filippino nurse as she massaged my back and stomach and held my hair and handed me a glass of water to rinse my mouth, and then she asked me in the most kindest, gentlest words:

"Sometimes you just need to throw up, how long have you been throwing up like this? When did you have your last period"

WHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!

If I could laugh amidst my tears and diarrhea and dehydration and coughing fits, trust me I would have.

I am NOT pregnant!!!!!!!! Where's the goddamn fake cubic zirconia engagement ring when you needed it?!

I went back to the waiting room, after promising myself to donate a lump sum of my new salary to the World Phillipines Nurses Association and their cute accents, and sat for another half an hour until I was seized yet again by a massive monster called SuperDryCoughOfTheUniverse, and ran out of the clinic, coughing and coughing till my chest and lungs gave out. I finally started bawling for my mom until this lady came up to me and asked me if I was alright, and of course I was NOT alright, so I nodded...yes I was. She went, you have the flu? yeah, me too, go to EMERGENCY, ok, go to the hospital... all this while I was waiting outside the walk-in clinic with tears of cough streaming down my face waiting for my turn.

Y'all know my hate-hate relationship with Canadian EMERGENCY so I wont even go there.

I called my desiFEST girl Tas, and left a hoarse VM about how there was no way I'd be able to show up for desifest or the movie, and when I hung up, I realized Carrie and Big and my sexy shoes that I was going to wear to the movie would just have to wait another day.

They finally called me in..
Of course I looked like crud by then.
Of course, the Dr who looked at me was a HOT BROWN DOCTOR.

Just my luck. Diagnosis: bad cold. Prescription: lots of rest and Robitussin. My dehydration was gone by then so he thought I was more delusional than I looked. Damn.

I'm grateful though, my brother fed me all week and weekend. 
I love Drs again. Well, only the brown ones. And nurses. Well, only the Filipino ones.
And in the last week of being sick, I just got back to my ideal body weight.

Shit. I need to get sick more often!

Sometimes you just need a shot of insanity to get back to reality.

Things to do while hunting for gainful employment

1. Learn how to moonwalk.

I shit you not. This has nothing to do with Suleman Mirza's from Britain's Got Talent recent celebrity status. I've been dying to do this...  since I saw some young blokey hit the dance floor with Billie Jean moves in a desi wedding eons ago. That was the bomb! (does anyone even use this phrase anymore? update me young kitten readers). Anyways, I think they should make it a rule in any desi wedding to play at least ONE MJ song, and what better song than Billie Jean where someone can strut their moonwalk and girls can act like teenyboppers as they swoon at the showoff.

Plus its great exercise after a long hard day of sitting on your ass resume spamming.

2. Laundry. Shower. Tweeze those jungle eyebrows.

For the sole reason that a lady must look, feel and smell like a lady, not ChewBacca.

3. Exercise/gym.

For the sole reason that a lady must look, feel and smell like a lady, not Jabba The Hutt.

4. Keep track of her bank account.

This way, she can avoid embarrassing her ass in front of the salesclerk in the shoe store, where she spent an hour trying out the cutest shoes and giving the salesclerk lady a run for her money, the latter who will later avoid snootily declaring in a very loud voice that the aforementioned debit card was rejected.

5. Catch up on TV world.

This is only a last case resort. Don't try this at home, kids. I ended up catching a bit of the reality shows Living HoHan and Denise Richards: It's Complishitted. And I have to say that I am disgusted. What were the networks/producers thinking? How can shit like that be tantamount to entertainment? I remember crap like Paris Slutton and other reality shows making news for the sole reason that if you are blonde bimbo in Ho-wood, you have a show. I see things have not changed at all. On one side, you have a FOURTEEN year old dumb bitch with zero talent aspiring to be a singer and her dumber mother act all prissy and celibutante on TV, because their only claim to fame is their dumbest bitch sister/daughter who was a one hit wonder in some forgotten movie eons ago and now a leggings-pimping drug addict. One the other side, you have a former prostitute-turned-mother-turned feel-sorry-for-me because my-pyscho-husband-is-more-desperate-than-I-am and crying for attention by showing us explosive "news".. which is that her female pet PIG is pregnant. HOW does such garbage even get approved by television heads?

I see I have missed nothing by abandoning television.

6. Actually practice for an interview, or pursue the skills you have mentioned you're good at.

This is REALLY hard.  How in blazes am I supposed to learn how to lie in x number of days? I'm going to be positive though and accept this as a challenge instead. I mean, if beauty queen pageants can lie to 5 million horny teenagers at the drop of a hat, if the leaders of the free world can lie to leaders of the repressed world, if Mugabe can lie to his countrymen and keep on lying and lying and lying, if random daters who are players can lie to get ....veneral diseases (hopefully), if mama's boys that were set up by rishta auntijies keep on lying about their ages and their non-existent bald heads and their existent pot-bellies, if Tom Cruise can lie to The 'O" and jump on sofas while acting like a madmen..... then I CAN LIE TOO just to get a damned job!

7. Spread the love

This is a summer thing.

Even if you're going through the most shittiest time of your life with the most shittiest people,
Even you feel you have accomplished nothing in your short lifespan (compared to your peers),
Even when all that you've done doesn't amount to a hill of beans in your resume or your bank account,
Even when you feel you have left no legacy and no lasting impressions for that hilarious roast at your wedding or that eloquent eulogy at your funeral,
Even when you feel the world is caving in on you with its never-ending demands and unrealistic expectations to deliver the world itself,
Even when you feel you cannot please a single soul despite giving every single soul your life and your heart on a platter,
Even when you feel you have so much to learn and no one to guide you as you climb out of the abyss only to come across a crevice bigger than the abyss you crawled out of,
Even when you are questioning loved ones, strangers, yourself, your self-esteem, your sense of belonging, your heart, your life,

SMILE.

You have just spread the luuuuuuuuuuurve! :)

Why? I dunno, all I know is it works. You're going to die anyways, and THEY are going to die anyways... so why don't you show them that you're on top of THEIR game?! Plus its not about you and them anyways, right? It's about YOU, and how handle it, and come out smelling like roses!

Yep. Shit like that should keep you busy while looking for work!

desiFEST invite

Hello people of the world.

Thank you for the last post comments. Bless you all.

I'm sick as we speak. (this is when y'all go awwwwwwwwwwwwwww and send me chicken soup money)

I'll put it out there.

Who wants to go to desifest Toronto? (Sat May 31). Its some desi festival in Toronto. D'oh. Please google it, I cant be bothered to. Im so sick. And such a cry baby when sick. My mom's not even here :(

Anyways, if you want to accompany me, meet me, exchange pleasanteries, laugh at other desi people, meet random screaming infants, eat overgrilled burnt corn, have diarrhea with greasy samosas, take pics of you in various angles to put it up on facebook (I effin hate facebook now piece of shit) yes I will be your damn cameragirl, if you want to give me a job, network (I dont know what I have to offer honestly, just my 10000 watt smile and my insane sense of humour), bitch with me, GIVE ME A HOLLER. I dont have any friends who want to go with me, so ...err, Im asking you. Yes, I admit, I HAVE NO FRIENDS. Happy now?! Man. That wasnt so bad.

I don't care if you're a guy, girl, or a plant. We might even go watch Sex and the City together. YES!!!!!!!!!!! (Tasmanian?)

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