Desi Girl Called Isheeta

Ball & Chain

A few days ago, one of my friends asked me how my ball and chain is doing.

Clearly, she was referring to my husband.

I found it funny, but I was also insulted.

I mean, c'mon!

Just ONE ball?! Clearly you don't know my husband.

(ok, ewwww and ..it was just funny cuz I turned it around on her, haha).

Friday Bollywood Funnies

Dear Bollywood,

Besides your copycut formula, this is why sometimes it's hard to take you seriously.

Exhibit 1:

  

Someone please tell me how she is supposed to look virginal and desirable to Bollywood lovers with a costume push-up bra. Her lacy sleeves seem to be a tad large for those svelte arms because I can't imagine why you'd buy a lingerie top and not even use the attached contraptions. The hair, make-up and get-up is reminiscent of a bad 80's prom dress gone awfully wrong. It's as if you were ready and doing your nails in your lingerie when suddenly you heard a commotion outside and in your mad haste to find out what it is, you forgot to put on your evening wear. And you were locked out of your home. So then you decided to play cute for the rickshawallah/guy next door so he could call the cops for you or ram down the door himself.

Exhibit 2:

This man is supposed to be the sexiest man in Bollywood. Until someone at LifeBuoy or Lux Soaps or Zest (desi soaps) decided to throw a bucket of water on his head for singing too loudly in the shower (Zest soaps make you feel alive, as per ads, and make you sing and smile in the shower with ... you guessed it, zest). Unfortunately rather than oozing sex appeal, John Abraham seems to be oozing goosebumps. Photogs must have had a field day because Mr. Abraham seems to be genuinely surprised.

Exhibit 3:

Salman Khan, the shirtless wonder from yesterday's Bollywood, seems to have misunderstood the whole Samson & Delilah thing. The secret to Samson's invincible strength lay in his hair. On his head. Not the pits. And while these days one must frequent the gym when the divine powers have not bestowed you with such, the fact remains that exposing le pits is not the same as exposing man chest/breastices - the chances of girls/men being induced to orgasm/swoon as they catch a glimpse of the free-flowing pit hair swishing in the warm summer breeze is the same as an Eskimo beating a desi kid in a spelling bee contest (1 in 10 gadzillion).

Exhibit 4:

This guy didn't have a paperbag on his head, so I added it for him.

This guy is also not from Bollywood, because Bollywood actors don't rely on shagadelic.com to find someone (since they rely on falling buckets of water instead).

I remember this person had contacted me while I was on that website (shuttup, I HAD TO, its either that or being shipped off to desiland to spawn babies, what would you have done?). I sent this pic to a few of my gfs and I remember one of them just couldn't stop giggling and almost peed her pants.

I know, I attact dreamboats.

Or pseudo Gino Vaselinos.

Or Amitabh Bachchan wannabees. Well, I guess that makes Exhibit 4 almost Bollywood.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

xoxo

(I'm British now).

Isheeta gets her Just Desserts

So right after I diss the lame car drivers from my previous post, God decides he will not have me insult these poor saps. Mind you, I did not physically get pissed at any of these drivers in real life lately.. I merely used that example to explain to my fellow bloggers how lame it is when they do that, and compare it to my lame admirers. But nope, gotta love God, he's always got my back.

This is how it all unfolded.

My brother pissed me off yesterday.  Its been a while since I was emotionally pissed off, and having just got back from the gym, I knew I couldnt go there again to blow off steam. So I decided to drive over to BlockBuster's and return a couple of DVDs instead - maybe the drive would do me good.

I drive there, and its like everyone is driving at snail's pace on the roads. I finally get to BB, drop off the rentals, and am still driving like a maniac. Something compels me to look at the rear-view mirror, and I see flashing red-and-blue lights.. making a U turn.

I look back at the rear-view mirror, and the flashing lights are gone. I'm thinking, ok, ok, so it wasn't me. Plus the cops were SO far, he couldn't be here so fast. So then I stare straight ahead, give my left-turn indicators, and wait at the lights.

You know how sometimes you're sitting in your car, staring straight ahead, and you can *feel* the guy next to you just looking at you, waiting for you to turn around? I usually ignore those. That night, it was like he was boring into my head, and I just had to look.

It was a cop, looking right at me. He asks me to turn right into the plaza at the left.

Oh sheet.

So I pull over, and Im thinking, of course, crap. I deserved that. One, I was driving while I was pissed, and two, I am mean to lame drivers! Destiny rears its ugly head!

By the time I pull over at the parking lot, I assess the situation. I dont look as bad as I do usually after the gym - my hair is ok. No lipstick, crap. Heavy downfeather jacket, gym clothes.. no boobies. Shit. Ok, how about my smile? Should I use that? Then I look at the radio - Katy Perry's cew song - Thinking of You was playing.

I remember the episode from Sex And the City when Samantha got dumped over a Post-It note, and the cop who pulled her over let her go because of that. Should I do that? Original? Believeable?

Then I remember - frig, man, I dont need a Post-It note excuse! I'll use my latest heartbreak excuse! Also, I need to cry.. who's been mean to me lately.. I remember... SANDWICH!

By the time the cop comes over to my car, floods of *real* emotions come over.  I don't hate Sandwich (can't hate someone who was born stupid), but I decide that if I wanna get away from this ticket, I need to cry. So the cop comes over, and he's ...omg, SO CUTE. DAMMIT. There's also a wedding ring. Ok. How do I play this? And he smiles at me too.

I play all emotional and when he asks me whats going on, I point to the radio, I say

isheeta: "there was a song, and I dunno what happened, I was talking to the ex (I wasn't), and he said something inconsiderate and and then I saw your lights and I'm sorry, I dunno what happened? *tears in eyes*

Cop: Got caught up in the moment, huh?

Isheeta nods sadly.

Cop asks me for my license, registration. He looks at my license, and asks me if Im wearing contacts, since thats what is specified on my license. I tell him I've got laser eye surgery so I dont need it. He tells me I should have that fixed on my license. I say ok, then he goes away and and stays in his car for eons doing whatever cops do.

I sit there, and Im mad at myself - I am such a dolt. I was driving crazy, I deserved that. I have a tiny little Quran in my car, so I ask God please please please Im on PMS, don't do this to me, can you please help me out, dont let him give me a ticket, puh-lease!

The cop finally comes back to my car. He gives me a ticket for driving without my glasses/lens. So no speeding ticket, no demerit points. He looks at me, smiles, and tells me its because I was honest.

I LOVE HONESTY! Well, sort of! And then... I'm thinking, well, he was nice. So then I tell Mr. Cop the sandwich story. I tell him, you're a guy. You tell me. Would you brush off someone you are seeing for a sandwich, that you can heat at home, if you knew the other person was flying in 20 mins? I tell him the story! He laughs it off, tells me that guys are stupid! Ha! That guys are dumb, and they dont think like women. Then asks me how long I'm seeing him etc. That maybe I'm making a big fuss out of nothing.

So then I tell Mr. Cop that but remember the movie He's Just Not That Into You? And Mr. Cop laughs and says, Which is a fictional movie with fictional characters.... he then tells me his wife calls him all the time at work, when he's working, and she asks him what he's doing, and he tells her he's d'oh working! He makes me laugh, so then he laughs, and says again guys are stupid, dont worry.

I thank him for "listening" to me, he then leaves and says not to drive when I'm emotional. Clearly this would mean I would never be able to drive, but I bite my tongue.

After the cop leaves, I say a little thank you prayer, and then for some reason, I ... I just really let it out. I cry out my PMS.

And then I came home, and just before I go to bed... what do I see?

Another email from Chucky Cheese.

TO BE CONTINUED! haha

You know what they call the "Other Woman" these days?

?

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!

Proof that Isheeta's life is going down the tubes leading to a river of toxic waste

It's a nice sunny day today. I put on my sunglasses, took my car keys, and took my car for a spin to the latest trendiest place to be for students for some school shopping - the Dollar Store.

I put away my cheap 1$ binders that I purchased in my car, rev  it up, and proceeded to back out from my parking spot.

2 parking spots away, I notice this hot hot hot yummy man opening his trunk (no, NOT the one down south, you dirty pervs, his CAR trunk!) and glancing at me at the same time... ok, not really glancing, more like LOOKING at me....AND smiling.

He looks like George Clooney.. oh that yummy salt-n-pepa hair *drool*, and a nice cut bod...and he's so tall.. oh how I love me a tall fit cut man... and even nicer hair than Mr Clooney and he's just.. LOOKING at me like I'm a celebrity (I checked, no booger in nose).

So I am backing my car out and decide to smile at him behind my shades.

He notices AND responds. Icks. Yummm.

By now I am thinking what I shall name our babies... I've always liked the name Adam for a boy, and Sara for a girl, and I really like the pish posh area at Bayview, those condos overlooking the 401 *giggle* maybe we can settle there with our 2.5 kids, with the breathtaking view of rush-hour traffic... he's taking out something from his BMW, ooooh I wonder what it is... there's a Home OutFitters right next to us, maybe he bought a swanky little ottoman for his condo and he's going to return it.... he's still looking at me with his dreamy eyes and the smile is plastered on his face while I envision various other furniture pieces for our little nest when my eyes fall on the contraption that he finally chugs out of his trunk.....

A baby carriage.

Proof that Isheeta's life is clearly going down the tubes

Today, while purchasing some beef from a desi Halal grocery store, I got asked out by a.... butcher.

The End.

You like me.. you really like me.. thanks Sally Field!

Since the current banner is your brainchild, I thought I would show you the stats:

Wow. Really really cool. You guys are from all over the world! I am thrilled!

One day, when there's time, or when you feel like it.... no pressure..... I'll take attendance and hopefully you can tell me a little more about your story as well! It would be nice to know more about the people who know more about me than I know of myself!

Thank you for voting! As Apu Nahasepenapedalon would say, "thank you, come again!"

Pranks by God, but hey thanks

Before I forget, please vote on the new poll.

Seeing as everyone loved the shoe epic moment of trauma prank that I had to endure, I thought I would list a few other incidents that happened the very next day. It gives new meaning to Murphy's law, or as my mum likes to think it.. all bad things happen in 3's, so here goes:

I took one of my friends who is visiting to dinner the other night. I was talking to her, but my mum kept calling me... cuz you know, that's what mums do when you have friends from overseas visiting. It is a mommy policy to embarrass you, and to remind you and your friends, of the never-expiring curfew.

By the 3rd call, I get a bit frustrated, I raise my arms in the air, and hiss, "what the frook, man!"

PLOOP! My arms are too fat now because they cannot control themselves (thank you, torturous pilates classes, aren't you supposed to tone them instead of fatten them).. my arms flail like wild bats high on steriods and they touch the edge of my phone, and somehow my phone seems to have developed wings because they literally fly off and land in the stream of water filled with plastic lotus petals right next to where I was sitting (Spring Rolls at the Atrium in Bay St... yeah, now you know!)

"PICK IT UP PICK IT UP PICK IT UP!!!"

That's my friend screaming at me to pick up the phone... thankfully. Because I was too shocked when I noticed what had happened and my gut reaction resembled that of Bush Jr when he heard about the Twin Towers - a blank look staring at my soon-to-be Titanicized phone sitting in that tiled aquarium of water.

I finally develop some grey matter and reach for my phone, my forearmed sweater wet but clutching the damn phone.

We quickly dry my phone with our sweaters and scarves, blow on it, say some duas on it too haha, unclothe my poor battery in front of staring eyes... I know, how romantic... and funny how I always make a scene in public at my expense... and hope for the best.

Then we both start laughing because I figure this was my punishment for ignoring my mum's calls and saying not so nice things about them...

The outcome: A couple of hours later, I plug it in... it works like a bad TV screen. I go home and blow dry it, it works like beauty.  :)

Only a NOKIA, people, now you know!

Story # 2. This will make you laugh.

Friday we had a major snowstorm. It was supposed to start in the evening... but the morons at the weather station as usual got it wrong because, of course, the snowstorm started sometime when the world was sleeping. ok! No problem! Weather station people are human too, and humans make mistakes. I shall forgive, I say.

I really don't want to go to school at this moment, but then I remember when I asked one of my profs once if they ever cancelled school/classes for this program, he went... I've been here since the beginning of this school.. and we NEVER cancel classes. Snowstorm or no snowstorm.

Fine. I shall live, I say. It will be half day anyways, its a Friday.

I quickly get dressed to go to school, thinking I'm going to just make it in time for the last bus to class.

I'm at the bus stop, thanking my lucky stars that I'm warm and not driving, because I hate driving in this snow. I look around me, and I'm thinking, you know, class SHOULD be cancelled... the town looks like DeadVille, and what can you possibly hope to learn surrounded by all this fluff? How to harpoon a whale in the Arctic?! Pfft!

So I call Bobbles, and since he is still home, I ask him if he could check the school website or call them and see if they are shutdown or still running. Bobbles is one efficient dude, because he does both and says that there's no response.

I'm thinking in my head that I'm one smooth little cow because I've picked a school that not only does not have a snow hotline, but also doesnt update websites. It will be a miracle if I get a job out of the education I'm getting out of them.

Bobbles advises me that maybe I shouldnt bother with class today.. do I listen to Bobbles? No. What do I care about Bobbles.. Bobbles lives 5 mins from school, he can show up to class in his jammies and not have to worry about missing class. I'm also thinking I'm smarter than Bobbles because I get on the bus instead when it finally arrives. Yeah! Real smart, Ish!

My bus finally trods to its destination.. at 10 am. I am late late late, but I shall live, I say! Considering I have left my house at 7 am, I am thinking I did pretty good time, because I only commuted an hour more in this frigid storm! If I could have done a little jig in the snow without slipping on the ice, I would have!

I finally show up in class..

... and there's a sign waiting for me.

"Dear students, Classes have been cancelled because of the snowstorm. Have a good weekend."

There is a lady in the reception with a headset behind the glass door. She is chatting away. She is lucky she keeps it locked usually, because chances are I would have lunged at her like a wild caged animal and shown her how it is that wild caged animals have good weekends.

I shake my head, and couldn't stop smiling. Wow! At least the trios of bad luck is complete! Shoe prank - check. Phone in water - check. 3 hour commute to school for nothing - check. Everything check check check. Everything done, I will survive! I love you, Gloria Gaynor!

The next bus is in 30 mins, so I run Isheeta runnnnnnnnn Forrest-Gump style. YES! I made it! I get in the bus. I call one of my friends to gloat about how amazing my life is right now.  Ie, how despite ALL of this, I am still in a surprising good mood and I am not even faking it. My friend starts laughing at my stories and congratulates me for not giving into my usual repertoire of wanting to blow up the world in times like these. I'm REALLY patting myself in the back for handling all this with such grace and dignity, when suddenly, there is an announcement in the bus intercom thing...

"Please be advised all classes to York Univ has been cancelled because of this snowstorm."

Ok, ok, no big deal. All the kids in the bus are from York U. The bus driver asks them, "do all of you guys want me to turn back (ie not York U.. ie to MY school bus station which is not York U?)"

"YES!"

"Ok then!"

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo......"

I run to the bus driver, and I tell him, "Listen, I need to get home, and the only way to get home is through York U... if you turn back, I am stranded at school for 1 more hour which is dead and closed and cancelled and I need to get home NOW NOW NOW so help me God!"

The bus driver is a kind kind man, and I hope his wife bears him many many kids who will bear him many grandkids too, because he decides to go to York U all the way...just for me heh heh, despite all the other kids who will have to double back.. thanks to me heh heh

I finally get home.. at 1 pm.

I should have been royally pissed. I just spent 6 hour commuting to school in the snowstorm and I didnt even get to fall asleep to my prof's yapping! My school should have bloody posted SOMETHING somewhere so idiots like me didnt have to wake up in the morning and have wasted half their day. BUT BUT BUT... I'm just happy to be home.

I hug my mum like a two year old, she looks at me, and tells me "Go eat something".. awwwwww.... my cute little mummy....

"Yeah, go eat something, and rest for a bit... cuz then you have to start shovelling, otherwise we won't be able to get out of this house."

Oh. Shovelling. Wheee. I should be pissed, I should be rolling my eyes, I should be saying Uffo-this and Uffo-that.

But it's cool. It's still cool. I'm still smiling. At least I'm home, at least Ive got my parents and the smell of warm curry wafting in my room and totally ruining my clothes to keep me company unlike the last few snowstorms when I had to live on expired cookies by my lonesome, at least I'm not stuck in my goddamned school freezing and waiting for the bus,  at least there's a TV at home and my phone is working and not a substitute for a bad TV, at least I don't have to worry about someone stealing my shoes in a shoe store!

The curse of the trio has ended! Cause célèbre!

 

2 comments

I usually get nice comments here.

But sometimes you get the usual people, who ...for lack of a better word, hate your guts.

It's cool, such is life. I mean, hating and judging is just human nature. Fine, deal with it, your problem. I'm not the one doing the judging, so I'm not the one living with my head plastered to my derriere.

Sometimes these people have good things to say, that makes you think. Like Anonymous here.

Sometimes these people have bad things to say, that makes you barf and feel sorry for them. Like Piyush the gonorrhea lover here.

Question: Whose opinion do you think I will count more? Who do you think will make me LISTEN to them and actually give value to their words?

Delivery, people, it's all about the delivery! If you've ever seen stand-up comedy, you know how important this is!

I welcome all haters, because really, it's your heart speaking to you, just like how it's my heart speaking on this blog.. and there's nothing I can do about it. I have stopped responding to comments like this, because frankly, I have better things to do. Will I think about them? Depends, if I have exams or not. Will I do take heed of them later in life? Depends on your delivery! See what I mean??!!

But if you ARE going to give me advice, on what YOU think I should do with my life and how I should conduct myself... please.....do it with finesse. Do it with integrity. Do it in a way that I will respect you. Take a lesson from your criticism and learn from it.

Don't  pull an Osama - there is no way you will make someone understand your ideas and beliefs by enforcing your thoughts on them forcefully.... rather, try to make them see your point of view with logical reasoning and sound arguments. Because at the end of the day, the truth of the matter is...

Don't expect me to live up to your expectations, if you don't expect to live up to mine.

Ps. utenzi, you crack me up!

[Addendum]

It will be very easy for me to just stop blogging, trust me. I can easily stop talking about my personal life, my parents, my family, my religion, my period cramps, my hair straightener, whatever. And resume a life of mediocrity where everything that happens in my head stays in my head and nothing is translated to my keyboard. By the same token, it would be very easy for readers to unbookmark this page and continue with the next blogger and start thinking about how their lives are more rosy compared to bloggers. It is VERY easy.

But I choose to write about my life here. I choose to write in a self-deceprecating way. I choose to write for me. Yeah, and that leaves room for perfect strangers to dissect and analyze my life the way they see fit. So be it. They may choose to express it, or shut up. Their choice.But if you're going to do it... do it like a man/woman. Don't hide your face. Just how you've taken it upon yourself to judge me, it is VERY easy for me to judge you as well. If you don't like it... fine. Leave. Say it (without being an ass). And go. Peace.

My faith is my faith. It is the one thing that I have never lost sight of, no matter how sordid a situation I have been in. It is the most intimate thing in my life and I love it. You have no way of knowing how I practise it, or how deep my commitment to my religion is. You can take what you read from this blog... and make assumptions like everyone else. Or you can think outside the box. Just because I don't practice every little nuance of it, does not mean I don't respect it. I can see it has the tendency to rile up a lot of readers... so I'm just never going to mention it here in this blog after this.

Ok, I have to run to a Pilates class now! Lovely chatting!