Desi Girl Called Isheeta

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?

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.

A HAPPY POST

Had to put that title... I'm not sinking into an abyss of depression, just to clear the air. I mean, hating the world does not mean that I hate myself or anything stupid like that. I love me. I'm so hot. Maybe if I say it enough times, I shall believe it!

Today, like a cruel sledgehammer that is my karma, I came across a random someone who LOVES clubs.

The last post (Bitch Revolution part 2) happened because I CANNOT stand clubs.

First of all, like I need someone. I don't need someone or anyone anymore, at all. So buzz off! End of discussion. I am quite content with my fat cat for company, thank you very much. I am looking towards a solitaire life with a few more of those during my octogenerian years. Travel a few times a year. Buy a boat or something. Be a bohemian like Matthew McConaughey. Get a girl pregnant and put on your website that you are going to make a baby by the love of God. Plus at least your cat is ok with you being 'clingy' hahahaha.

I would  rather be in a fish market than be in a club. I don't get it. If you're like 30 (like Mr ClubLovah), shouldn't you be like taking your blood pressure pills and combing your hair from back to front? Shouldn't that process take a whole Saturday night?

Clubs are so fake. So superficial.
1. Everybody looks good when the lights are all pink or blue or other random color. But when you see them in real life lighting... ewwwwwwwwww, barf.
2. Dumb ho's and dumb ox'es - 'nuf said.
3. $$$ - this wouldnt be so bad if I had some of that.
4.There are no trampolines in a club. They should get those.
6. Lack of hot dog vendors or ice cream booth
7. Pretending to have fun when you just want to sleep
8. Porn star clothes. That is just sad.

But I guess they're good for one thing - you get to see how much infidelity, or lack of it, that you will likely encounter with said person when he/she's eyes will hover around at all the clubbers.

So Mr ClubLovah asked me out for the weekend.. I said I'll think about it.

But since we are in my new improved phase, I'm going to say I'm washing my hair.

If I was my own mother, I'd spew out tears of joy at my own protege.

R(E)volution of a Bitch - 3

The other day, I went grocery shopping (since a girl cannot live on pineapples and chocolates alone).

I was putting away my groceries in the trunk. The grocery cart was almost empty. I could hear this Indian family in the background, nattering away in Southie. They pass by me.. then they stop.

The matriarch goes, "Veel you want this?", while pointing to the cart.

She looks like a fragile little lady... surrounded by her clan of 4 little grandchildren, a son resembling an ox and his tiny little wife.

Old nice dumb Isheeta response: No, no, not at all, I'm done my shopping, take it why don't you? Oh the quarter, you don't have any? Thats ok, its just change, dont need it. The wheels are a bit shifty, you gotta turn it like.. so, yeah.. there you go! *giggles giggles* No no, no need to thank me, its just a cart, not the Queen's carriage. Oh you're going to take this trolley home because you guys dont have a car in this weather? Well, I'm almost done with my shopping, why don't I just drop you off after I accompany you with your grocery... you know what? Why don't you just take my car keys while you're at it and drive away with my groceries and yours? Yeah! Long live humanity!

New bitchy improved Isheeta: So, where's my quarter lady??? Pronto, chop chop!

Baby steps, my pretties, baby steps, the ice queen cometh.

R(E)volution of a Bitch - 2

Do y'all remember Red Bull?

The only guy who actually delivered eons ago, only to dump me by stealing MY excuse (i.e. the religion card)?

Red Bull and I have ... been friends since. On and off. On and Off. Like Paris Hilton's legs.

You know how some people become.. *gasp* fuck/bed buddies?

Yeah, gross. Not me.

So we have been strictly friends. He's been trying to get me for a while since.. some years are better than others. I always laugh it off. It's become a running joke.  I know he means it.. I mean, he's a guy and all.  What guy wouldn't go for a freebie? He's got nothing to lose. Stupid.

So yesterday, I did the unthinkable. I stiffed him.

I can't give you details. But I guess if I had to describe in .. many words.. you could say, it was:

humiliating
embarassing
expensive
hurtful
inconsiderate

to him. By me.

What I did last night.. after he was so nice to me all these years.. I wouldn't even wish to a first wife being cheated on by her husband for a young spring chicken.

Today, he deleted me off facebook.

*GASP* DING DING DING DING DING!!!!!!!!!!

I know, if youre a facebookie, you know IT MEANS BUSINESS!!!

A part of me feels awful. He has been nothing but kind to me, in all other aspects. To this day, he always pays for everything, he is always very gentle, he is still thoughtful to me.. about me. Except the part where he is self-obsessed.

A little technical difficulty there, but whatever, he is only human.

Another part of me feels....  like it was just desserts.  What part of "no" is so difficult to understand these days? What part of "we're over" needs to be translated from Swahili to English? What part of "I CANNOT BE WITH YOU, ISHEETA, BUT I WANT TO GO TO BED WITH YOU?" is so normal? How many times do you want to take my heart and rip it up to shreds for the vultures to scavenge on? How many times do I have to want to shoot myself when I turn to you for advice only to realize that you think this is an opportunity for you to get some wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am? What will it take for you to realize that if I spend my time with you, it is time wasted that I can look for someone else?

I dunno if it is the PMS in me...... or if I'm taking this being a bitch revolution a little too seriously.. but when I went to that rocking party last night.. and faced with the prospect of making small talk with random strangers for 'networking/getting to know someone', I just couldn't be bothered.

WHY should I go out of my way to make small talk with these losers who I have no interest in? WHY should I put myself out there and be in my best behaviour for others who won't remember me past their 2nd drink? WHY should I care about these yuppie generation people who have more baggage than Air Canada's Lost Baggage Department? WHY should I care what they do for a living, if their idea of a living constitutes of wanting to save the world/making contacts for the future/getting numbers/making new facebook friends? WHY should I care that they know Lenny Kravitz? How is Leny Kravitz going to contribute to MY future? WHY should I look like I have won the lottery when all I want to do is take off my heels and curl up to the sofa and watch something romantic like Reservoir Dogs? WHY should I pretend to be interested in their love lives, or lack thereof? WHY should I meet them for coffee when my first instinct would be to throw a steaming cup of one at them?

WHY should I pretend to be so goddamned nice to the world, when I am completely and hopelessly disillusioned by it?

R(E)volution of a bitch - 1

Since it has been established time and time again that I'm getting kicked to the curb way too many times because...lets face it.. I lack the wily charms of manipulative women and thus am being shatted on left, right and centre, I have decided that.. it is time, indeed, to become a bitch.

I was advised that I can be bitchy without being a bitch.

Not possible.. I think being a Libra this means a delicate balancing will be involved.. of which I am no good at... so the best thing for now, is to go all the way.

So I took my laptop to school today. My wireless isn't working. So I go to reception and tell the secretary if she can flag down this tech guy to help me out at it.

She pings him. She asks him, "Can you help a student with her wireless on her own personal laptop?"

The guy at the other end of the line (who is a nice guy that I have spoken to before) says he doesn't have the time.

The secretary hangs up the phone, and with a smug look on her face, looks up to me like she has won the BitchFest of the Year award, and tells me, "No, he won't be able to help you out with your wireless."

I go, "huh?"

LadyBitch looks at me like I am the spawn of Satan, shakes her head sideways, and with clipped tones that would have given Mrs Havisham a run for her money, goes, "He can't help you out. It is our policy that we only help OUR college computers, not student computers. Nope. Can't help you."

Did I mention that this she-devil has had it for me since I started school?

Once she was invigilating one of my exams. My pen ran out of ink. Mrs Dillhole was doing a crossword puzzle. So I ask her if she can spare a pen. She looks at me like I am asking her for her kidneys and rolls her eyes. She did not find a pen for me nor even make the effort. I wrote my exam in blood.

(kidding.. with my colleagues' pen).

Recently she handed me my tuition tax receipt.. with the wrong address. I told her that I do NOT live in the suburbs of Brampton. She claims that is what she has on file. I tell her that well that is a mistake because I don't recall setting buying a house in Brampton and commuting for 2 hours just to get a wrong tax receipt. With obvious frustration, she takes my driver's license and my address. When I go to her later to collect it, she practically throws the receipt at me.

This has happened every time I ask her for my tuition receipt. "Can I have a receipt please?" "End of the day." I have yet to see a single receipt.

By this time, I'm thinking I have had enough of men and women of this world - so I tell her, well, I NEED help.

Her response: "My computer is working."

I hold my tongue. SO WHAT? MINE ISN'T! YOURE A GODDAMN SECRETARY. It is your job to look at administrative matters. I am sorry to announce that that is all you will amount to be, since playing SOLITAIRE on the computer all day long doesn't require a functional brain nor an internet connection. Secondly, would it kill you to talk with some civility to a person and not like I stole her collection of lard?! It is not my fault that you have collected copius amount of cellulite by sitting on your ass all day reading trashy gossip columns and thirdly, YOU DO NOT HAVE A 20% project due tomorrow, I DO, so GET ME A TECH SUPPORT NOW BECAUSE MY 20K a year IS paying for your damned tech support and unless he is being run over by truck the size of your fat face, tell him to get his butt over here and help me!

Of course I didn't say any of this out loud. I've got more class.

I know she keeps her food in the fridge.

I just spat in it instead.

Being a bitch ain't so bad.

Stop. Bullshitting. Me. Part 2

I wasn't going to post about this, but I need to bitchfest so badly at the moment that if I don't, I'm afraid my head will fall off and explode and splatter my laptop with blood which will not be a very pretty scene to clean up.

Warning: excessive swearing. I will not be very lady like here. If you don't like and will be pissed off, please leave now. I will not apologize.

So I met this guy, totally out of the blue, when I had nary a hope of dating any other man on this planet. I didn't give him hope's bells in getting past the first date because we all know my track record is by now half a date at the most.

But like a true charmer, he did win me over. I'm such a sucker for good manners. There are so many assholes these days that if you so much as open the door and pay for dinner, chances are I will think you are the Dalai Lama. He met me one day, and then he asked me out for the next 3 days.  And when I implied that no, sometimes people have plans consecutive days, he implied that maybe it means that she's really not that into him and since he is true metrosexual sensitive guy, that would sorta hurt.

And since he was SO DAMN AMAZING, and I didn't want to play any dumb cat-and-mouse games with him, I complied. Like a true subservient stupid foolish dumb South Asian woman, I complied. He called me every day like a dutiful husband to be, and I never missed a call. I laughed at any and all dumb jokes. I listened to any and all dumb conversations that had nothing to do with world news or events, that had nothing to do with anything of MY interest, that had nothing to do with travelling, that had nothing to do with pop culture, that had nothing to do with anything I liked. I listened with an open mind. When he stressed that he just didn't want to play games and wanted to get into a relationship, I listened. He even implied that maybe I should meet his little niece and family. I did everything that an old married couple would do, even laughing at the funnies together .. we did everything except the bedroom benefits.

A few days later, he tells me that... I... *sniff* that I'm clingy.

.
.
.
.

After taking extreme precautions to give in to HIS requests for night outs.. to coffee meets... to random meets... to random phone calls... to not hurt HIS feelings because I was under the assumption that we were on the same wavelength...  I was being told that I was needy.

THIS, to a woman, who chews guys out the first date if they are so goddamned boring. This to a woman who needs to clear out her calendars to get a toilet break. I never even told him to call me every day! to go out every day! SO NOW IT IS MY FAULT THAT I GAVE IN TO YOUR NEEDS?!

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS FUCKING WORLD?!!!!

Now I just got a call. And I was explained. Apparently I was too available. Apparently I was too bubbly and active for him. Apparently I just gave in too easily. Apparently I have all the virtues and traits to be a loving mother, but I am not good enough to be commitment material because I AM TOO FUCKING THOUGHTFUL about other people's needs. Nobody likes some dumb nice bitch. Apparently for a relationship to be borne into fruition, the MAN must love the woman MORE than she loves her. Who gives a shit that woman are genetically pre-disposed to be the more loving and nurturing gender... no, that is utter cockshit.  In order for a relationship to work, the MAN must love the woman ten times more than the girl will ever love the guy. Apparently I MUST play games INITIALLY, no matter how many times they say that they dont like mind games.

I have no idea where the fuck people come up with such piece of shit. What the fuck is wrong with them?! I hope and pray these people stay single for the rest of their pathetic lives. I hope they never have kids and..... oh wait, if theyre 60 when they have their first born, I guess that means they'll be dead by the time the kid can speak. Awesome. I hope this happens to every Tom Dick and Dickhead that have such fucked up reasoning in their uneducated brains.

My life will be so much better if I were to live in a world where there are only shoes for amusement. I am sick of dumb stupid dating games. I go to a date after like 2 months and I get my heart bitchfried on. I wasn't even looking. I didn't even want to do this. But what do I do? I do it. Gah. I've even told that to my parents, and then they set me with dumb potatohead morons, who look and sound like something the crocodile spewed out. And then I get more and more crankyness from random relatives and family. And then I have to resort to this piece of crap lifestyle inundated with dates. I just want to be a nun now. I am through through through with life. I am so happy just doing my school shit so I can be a corporate slave and just travel the world one day and maybe get eaten by some cannibals in the Amazon rainforest one day. That is now my life long dream. Anything is better than this. I have no interest in sex. I have no interest in kissing. I have no interest in relationships or other forms of lies. I am sick of crying and wondering what the hell is wrong with me or what the hell is wrong with the next jackass on the street. I am sick of making an effort to listen to utter bullshit only to be told that I am the one thats bullshitting. I am sick sick sick of these fabrications and these mating rituals that makes arranged marriages look like a game of musical chairs. I am sick of men. I am sick of playing normal. I am sick of being so thoughtful and then getting slapped in the face because apparently I am too nice???? WTF is that about? I  am sick of people who say they dont like games and then they do just that.

Why don't people just do what they say?! Is it so wrong to be honest for ONCE in your life?! You won't die from being honest, trust me! It's worked for me! And I'm still alive! Yes, it is one long bloody existence, but you get to sleep at night knowing that you dont have to remember any lies!

I don't get it. I just don't get it. WHAT DO MEN WANT?! Why cant they just figure it out first without messing my bloody head first?!

New recruits

I must be looking less hideous these days, because I have noticed random people being a little *too* nice to me.

Unfortunately for me, most of these random people are more blogworthy in a thumbs down way than the  gushing worthy way.

The stats on these people are as follows:

-guys younger than me: No, make that *much* younger than me. Like about 5 years. I know I should be flattered that in my age I'm still able to attract guys who were just coming out of their mother's womb while I was in kindergarden, but somehow robbing the cradle these days just doesn't do it for me anymore. Especially if your cradle comes equipped with jeans that are hung low.

-smokers: all those govt sponsored stopsmoking helpline ads are going nowhere, because these people who are looking me up are also smoking up a storm by spewing out their own private chimney. And of course, with my luck, they somehow also gravitate towards me. How nice of them. And because I don't want to be rude (how nice of me), I don't fan away that tar-laced air with my bare hands like I usually do. I mean, I shouldn't judge... it's their lungs, its their personal choice, as long as its not in my face, you know. Do you know what's really funny in such scenarios? When they ask ME... if I have gum. Like, shouldn't YOU be carrying gum, if you're thinking of talking to a girl while being a choo-choo train?!

-desi guys that wear coloured contacts: *shaking head* . *sigh*.  Ok. First of all, WHY. Why.... do brown guys do this? This really makes me cry. Ok, I admit, I have gone through the coloured contacts phase when I was in love with Ms. Rai. From Dec 2004 - Feb 2005. I have pics in my IshAlbums to prove this. However, one day when my own cat with green eyes ran away from me, I took a good look in my mirror and decided that  "na uh, this just wouldn't do, Ish." I decided to accept my ordinary brown eyes with my ordinary curly hair. Agreed, a lot of people I know look very good with multicoloured contacts all the time. Even brings out their features. But when desi guys who ask me out do it..... I dunno... ok, its a metrosexual look... but... I feel sort of... weird. Especially when they look hot with them. And you see them all the time with them. And you are attracted to them. Because they look like Mr. Roshan from Bollywood.  Even start wearing it like their everyday accessories. And then one day, you see them without it.

And then... instead of accepting them as they are with their normal nice-looking eyes, somehow you feel like you're seeing a guy who is really not comfortable in their own natural skin/eye.  As in lacking in confidence. And then you're just not attracted to them anymore. Plus they look really weird with their regular eyes now.

I don't know. If its ok for girls to wear it, it should be ok for guys... BUT.. I guess its just me.

-guys that drop the f word to make a point (not because they are pissed off or anything): I'm not even going to discuss this. I'm just going to say I'm getting old.

-GO Transit bus drivers: No complaints. They are nothing like the TTC guys. I love them, especially when they ask to be your valentine. (it's ok, I didn't do anything stupid after).

Dumb pranks and other serious matter

A funny thing happened to me today. I'm giving it top priority because it relates to one of (my) life's fabulous passions - my love for shoes. =D

So I'm done with class, and I walk over to the mall.. and I see this cute pair of shoes. I take off my socks and my right boot, and try on this work of art. I check out how this half a pair look on my feet in the mirror a few times.. flaunt right, and flaunt right... I can't believe how cute it looks and how its on sale and thus very affordable since I am dirt poor at the moment.. I am so distracted with my ooh la la's that I almost forget that I need to get home...I remember that if I don't rush, I shall miss my bus.

So I proceed to put away this beloved pair, and then am ready to put on my socks and boot again, when I realize...

I'm missing my original boot.

At first I'm thinking, whaaaaaaaa, hahahaha, ok, I KNOW I kept it SOMEWHERE here, inside the store, in the MIDDLE of the store. So it couldn't have... y'know, walked off or something.

But no, my boot is nowhere in sight. I look around the store, and then realize I've got no time for a scavenger hunt, so I rush to the manager and ask her if she's ...err, seen my boot anywhere. Because it was *right here!*, I point out.

She starts laughing and helps me look. I am getting a bit flustered because I'm walking around the store with one working boot and one bare foot with my jeans upto my knee. I look ridiculous... but I am also muttering how ridiculous it would be if someone TOOK/STOLE MY goddamned boot from a SHOE store, for Pete's sakes! KER-RRRRRRAZY!

Suddenly, this group of women outside the store asks me, "excuse me, are those YOUR boots at the counter?"

They point to a counter... in the NEXT neighbouring store - ANOTHER shoe store.

SOME smartass little sorryass !@#$% loser took my shoe and put it in the store right next door.

I find this VERY amusing and I start laughing... and so does the little crowd that has now gathered.... I was a bit pissed off at first, but more relieved to know that at least no one walked off with my shoe, literally.

I grab my shoe and proceed to put it on and run because I will definitely miss my bus if I don't. The sales girl laughs, and I comment under my breath that I hope whoever was responsible for this little prank gets run over by a truck.

You should've seen her face when I said that. She looked a bit shocked. I mean, ok, I'm a bit harsh.. and so it was a joke, I get it, it could've been one of those hidden camera jokes for all I knew... But I didn't care. I'm in a busy mall, and someone ran off with my shoe, IN A SHOE STORE, how rude is THAT, and if I missed my bus because I'm looking for my freakin shoe to get home via my 2 hour commute.... the stupid kid who took my shoe better be run over by a bus. It's called due justice and is only appropriate! I DON'T CARE! If you can be so heartless to not think of ME and my troubles, you cannot expect me to be a blithering kind-hearted Mother Teresa! This is how the world works!

I kinda felt bad afterwards for thinking like this... I sound like a selfish little cow with zero sense of humour. I'm not like that, really. I mean, I'm not a cow, I'm a bull (hahaha!). No seriously, I suppose that is a tad harsh.  I can do better, you know. So what if someone stole my shoe to make me look like an ass. That's what kids do. What's life without a little prank on harmless innocent shoe lovers? I CAN.. and SHOULD... laugh at it. And not be an icy little biatch. I CAN be a better person than people think. It IS possible for me to live up to the credit people give me/assume of me.  I CAN be the underdog that you see in the movies who rises against all odds to exhibit grace under pressure.

And just as easily as that thought surfaced, I realized why it was (relatively) so easy for me to get over the Christmas heartbreak. I tried many times to figure out what exactly was it about me that made this person look past me.. and while I've settled on a very solid and sound reasoning (i.e. he IS a dick because let's face it, I'm perfect. No really). I finally saw him for who he is - I finally saw what I failed to see when I was staring him in his face - his god-like perception of himself that he was better than me. And consequently, his understanding that he could do better for himself. That he could do better.. than me.

And then I rolled my eyes and laughed because I'm not really sure how a fugly duck like him even *thinks* he can do better than me, because it's like .... Jabba the Hutt thinking he can do better than Queen Amidala. Which is pretty sickening.

And while he may be entitled to his opinion (as flawed as it is...), I won't be hypocritical in saying that I hadn't thought of this many times when faced with prospects who were... err, less than stellar.

SO.... I suppooooose I can do better. With myself. Towards others. Not because people will find my bitchy beliefs shocking, and not because I have to be a goody two shoes (because heaven forbid, I can't do that even if I try), but because I CAN be good because it will help me accept the good and the fugly of reality.

Sometimes someone stealing your shoes is just a prank... and you can either mix their blood with bat's blood and boil it in a cauldron of frogs, OR you can just laugh it off and realize that some stupid kid was bored and decided to pick you as the dunce so you can write about it as blog fodder!

Profiling hate

This post will either make you love me, or hate me. It's cool, I'm ok with both.

But to be quite frank, I think I'm getting the hang of this being hated business. In fact, I think my mild amusement of haters has been replaced with rampant amusement. Observe! too funny!

So then I decided to do a social experiment/investigation to get more info into this hating business. (I know, I have too much time in my hands!)

First I thought, hey, I'm such a nice person, who could possibly hate me?

1. Brothers. That's ok, when brothers hate you, it means they love you.
2. Pets. Only when you take them to the vet.
3. Relatives. Any given day. It's better that they hate you.. instead of poisoning you. Or killing you in your sleep.
4. Colleagues (past and present). I ALWAYS fill up their christmas stockings with various LLBO products, so suffice to say they love me.
5. Bosses. No probs. Their hatred for you (or vice versa) is a fact of life, like period cramps. You need them, and if they're not the bane of your existence, you must be doing something wrong.
6. Friends. Touchy subject. If they have liked you at one point, and then hate you the next, the old adage "keep your friends close, but keep your enemies close applies." But then again, this becomes tricky when you fail to realize the timeline when your friends have become your enemies. How is one to distinguish that sarcastic comments that were once made out of love are now laden with prickly thorns? What was one cutesy becomes an annoyance. Do you confront? Deny? Live in la-la land? I don't know. I know once I REALLY pissed of one of my gfs... I literally had to beg her to forgive me. I'm not sure if she started to hate me, but I do recall my body aching very shortly after that, so I wrote her a long love letter and then the voodoo curses stopped eventually. So moral of this story: if friends hate you, you're f-ed.
7. Ex-boyfriends. Since I technically only have one real ex-bf (who is alive.. and not voodooed to death), and we are in good terms (although EXTREMELY annoying), I don't really know what to say about this. Can goofiness be an emotion instead of hate?
8. Guys who were interested in you once upon a time but you have jilted them, and now they hate your guts. This is the sole reason of my post. My social experiment revolved around this.

So I don't know what it is... maybe I'm getting old or something. I decided that I felt bad for... not being there for them. When they liked you.

I mean, yes, I wasn't interested in them.... but that is life! Not every person I come come across will I like. And vice-versa. It's only human. I should know! There are many people who don't like me! It's ok! I shall live! So what? At the end of the day, as long as they let me know.. I do get over it. Eventually.

By the same token, I do recall telling guys who were interested in me for the purposes of girlfriendship/marriage/*bomchickabomchickabombom* that... I wasn't interested.

I do recall some took it very well... and some that didn't.

Now the ones that didn't... some members of that sub-population (I've been studying, can you tell?) tried to change my mind a number of times. Not so verbally... but in other ways. They'd call. They'd say it was ok, we could be friends (I know, deathwish!), they'd want to hang out, they'd just want to go out for a coffee, soon coffee would become dinner, soon dinner would be followed by a movie, soon the movie would be about couples IKEA shopping, and then I'd realize it was a re-run, and I'd wake up from the nightmare and realize that if I didn't put on the brakes, I'd be called a jezebel and a tease and BAM! Somehow trying to be nice becomes my fault!

So recently, some of these people contacted me recently. And of course, the same schtick happened! And of course, because I was sticking up to my beliefs, I turned out to be the "bad" guy in this scenario because I STILL said "no".

Nice. Some people hate me for that. Fine!

Then I thought, gee, I wonder if I contacted people in return, would I get the same response. Lets see... what happened to this other weirdo who kept on calling me odd hours because he missed me? I mean, he WAS a nice guy, so what if he was boring as hell and I couldn't keep my eyes awake? I was honest with him, yes. Does he still have feelings for me? Do I care? Yes, I do. I don't want this person to hate me. I don't know why, but I just wanted to see (and I have too much time on my hands, as established). Would it matter if I asked and found out?

I found out. He HATES me.

Wow. So much hate. It's surreal.

You know, I've been rejected many times. For every reason in the book. Your hair's too curly. You're too dumb. You're too short. You're not desi enough. You're too desi. You're not a doctor or a lawyer or an engineer or an accountant or an IT genius. You think too much. You don't think. You're not as fashionable. You're not good lookin' enough. You don't have a Masters. You're not impulsive enough. You're too spontaneous. You're too old. You're too young. I've written a blog about them! But that's cool, I'm not God so I don't expect everyone to love me EVERY single time.

But I don't really HATE these people. I mean, I dislike them. I feel sorry for them cuz they're so stupid. Or that they missed out. I feel sad that I wasted my time on them. I laugh at them. I realize what idiots they are. I realize what I've missed out on. I wish them luck. I feel for my loss. I made mistakes. I had liked the wrong guy. The wrong guy had liked me. The timing was all wrong. As you can see, a multitude of emotions. Some I don't even remember their names, just features. I don't recall putting any pins and needles on any dolls for them (Haraaaaaaaam!! haha).

And the ones I've hated.. I've forgiven. Well, most. Latest one is still pending. But the point is, I've mostly forgiven and forgotten because I forgot what was it that pissed me off about them (thank you, senility!)

But some people must have REALLY liked me a lot. For them to have hated me SO MUCH. And still hating me.

I'm not sure how to feel about this.  I should just let it go. I can't change everybody's moods. Yes, I've made mistakes.. yes, I've pissed off a few people. Yes, yes, yes, I'm flawed. For god's sakes, I'm just a girl who doesn't know anything! But... is it so wrong for me to want to set things right? I mean, it's never ever ever too late. For anything. Or is it? But then again, not everyone feels the same way I do. Not everyone has too much time on their hands to think or to conduct social experiments. Not everyone can just hit the 'erase' button for past emotional rollercoaster rides just like that and expect the world to be dandy again. Wiping out hate is not as easy as wiping out tears. The memories still linger, the heartbreak is still persistent, and rejection of one's heart still sticks out like a sore thumb.

Well. I don't know. Can't we all just get along?! Just.. let it go. All those cliches... tomorrow is a new day and life is too short and all that jazz. If you're going to hate, hate the important stuff. Hate taxes and death and all the other certain things in life. Hate politicians and zits and people who pee in public and your visa statements and those croc shoes and ... things that matter.

Hate for a cause! Hate with your head! Don't hate me! Because unlike visa statements, I don't charge interest, one day you will forget about me, and I won't come back every month!

Unless its my blog =D