Desi Girl Called Isheeta

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! 

One of THOSE moments

Today I realized that I was possessed.

Because there is no other excuse for the insane amount of crapness that I go through every other day, that brighten up my life in their own freaky way.

Its a normal day in Isheeta household. Dishes in the sink, laptop on all night, powerpoint handouts in bed, because someone *ahem ahem* fell asleep instead of studying. WOW, what else is new, yeah?!

I was supposed to have woken up at 5, but of course, on cue I wake up half an hour before my class starts. Considering my class is actually 45 mins away, not including parking time, I realize I am seriously screwed. Oh well, shit happens.

So I finally saunter in my class half an hour late. Keep in mind though, I am looking like crap. Hair is DianaRosswouldhavebeensoproud, no make-up, no gloss, thankgodIbrushedmyteeth. Fat-down jacket (luvitluvitlluvit, keeps me sooooooo warm, fat even worse than jogging pants, possibly granny panties so Im following in Bridget Jones footsteps, beloved Pumas on my feet, so no heels, so I look like a midget.....yep, total pin-up calendar girl. I AM LOOKING LIKE someone my ex would have been proud to have dumped.

Class is finally over. After stuffing myself with cheese perogies so my cellulite can keep me warm in this arctic pole, I drag my ass to the parking lot (no TTC like everyday), and cannot wait to run home and call my mommy because I miss her so much (and her cooking, of course :=D). I start giggling to myself when I think of how Samosa and I make fun of... err, some random guy we met the other day whose name was Sujan.

Suddenly this 4 wheel with 2 guys stop in front of me. Not because they tried to run over me or something that romantic, no.

One of the guys go, "hey gorgeous!"

I look around, because I have got to be in the midst of Ms Jolie, yes! Where is my smokin hot goddess?!

Nothing. THIS BEAUTIFUL.... what can only be described as ADONIS MAN times TWO says, "Hey! How are you?! You're so beautiful!"

Fuck. The. What!

I laugh my ass off! "And you're such a liar!" I say.

"No! What's your name?! What's your background?!"

Am I in the fuckin twilight zone?! Is this some cruel joke?!  Does this kinda shit only happens to me?!

"What are you on?!"

"No, seriously, you're beautiful! What's your number?! I would love to take you out! C'mon!! "

Cars pull up behind him. I'm shaking my head. 

"listen, you're nice, have a nice day, ok?! I have to go!"

"No, whats your name?! I'm HotGuyWithDimplesWhoMustHaveWonTheLotterySoImDelirious!"

"Hi HotGuyWithDimplesWhoMustHaveWonTheLotterySoImDelirious, I'm Isheeta!"

"And your number is.... 416??"

"xxx-xxxx"

"Awesome, I'll call you in the weekend!"

Laughing, "you do that, HotGuyWithDimplesWhoMustHaveWonTheLotterySoImDelirious, I gotta go, bye!"

"Bye, Isheeta!"

I scamper across the parking lot, and almost reach my car.

"Bye Isheeta, I LOVE YOU!!!!!"

"Bye HotGuyWithDimplesWhoMustHaveWonTheLotterySoImDelirious, I love you tooooooo!"

And then I drive home, and my smile is bigger than Queen Latifah.

You see? I'm possessed. This is NOT normal. None of this is normal. Every other day something or the other happens to me and while it is great blogmeat and totally zeps me up, I have to ask,  whats in store for me??

I have been trying so hard to be... accepted. To just be that one success story that one auntiji will tell her recruits or victims. I know I'm crazy. I know my personality can be overwhelming (at the risk of sounding conceited), and I know I can be a bit.. different than most, BUT I am trying to be so hard to be well, just be like the rest of them.

All this time, I've had it all wrong. I dont know whats in store for me. Now, tomorrow, when I finish my postgrad, 6 months, 10 years.. despite my 5 year plan, despite my visions, hopes, broken dreams, wishes, perceptions.  But I think I've finally realized to just... be. To just let go.. To stop trying so hard to be someone else. I know I say that I'm me, but I know everyone of us always puts on a facade.. to be accepted/recognized/to not stand out.   

Gosh. I am in awe. People can choose to be so fickle, and people choose to be so surreal at the same time.

Life is SO fragile, so painful, such a struggle, so cruel, and while I haven't even tapped the surface of it all... its surreal.

The Big Guy Upstairs must have a ball every single day. Man!

Communication

My Facebook is down!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HELP MEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

FB addicts - 0; FB fascists - 1.

hahahaha, oh that was funny. One for the  addicts, yo!

WHICH I AM NOT. (deny deny deny...1st sign)

Its definitely a great tool to keep up with people who've left the blogworld, and check out all sorts of pics. I like the part where you look for events, its awesome! There are even random house parties you can go and RSVP! Hahaha! Talk about saying YES to psychos!

So I'm at the gym today. I usually go to my beloved gym when:
1) I am unemployed OR
2) have seen less than flattering pics of me that someone else has taken of me in less than flattering way OR
3) when I see some dance numbers like at the M!M!M! show this weekend where dancing Bollywood choreographically (as below) is all the cult rage (NEVER in a million years for me, sorry).

It does inspire me to get back to dancing (not Bollywood) or to the gym, so I guess it can't be all that bad.

Anyways, so I'm at the gym, and I am doing this workout called Seated Leg Curl as below (the blonde chick is not me).

 

This is the first time I'm doing this exercise/machine, and the equipment didn't come with color pics.

Scene : Isheeta's head.
Narrator: The little voice at the back of Ish's head.

Man, oh man, I'm going to so work this machine. Right, here we go. Sit, adjust seat. Back? good, all set. Let's see...weight to put... 45 lbs, yeah, that should do it. I don't want to do much, no sirree, don't want to be Hulk Hogan's baby sis. Or grandma. Or his little friend. Hahhahaha, ewwwwwww, I cant believe I just made a dumb joke and I'm laughing at it too! Oh well, I like dumb jokes, except when guys make them at a first date on an insulting basis.

Ok, lift! yes! not too bad. May have to pull back on the weight though. Screw 45 lbs.. maybe 25?

CLUNK CLUNK BADA-CLUNK!!!. shit. They  said not to throw these things so hard. Oopsie, haha. ok, ok, smile, look as if that stupid clunky weight was possessed by the devil.

20 lbs... yeah that works. Ok! Work it baby!

Ok, now lets do 12 reps of 2 sets each. I have no idea if that will give me Gisele Bundchen's 5ft 11 in long lean legs, but whatever.. thats what all the mags say. And I am a true consumer, I will buy that bs!

*breathing* Ok, thats 5. YES! I am already feeling my legs becoming leaner. WOO! yes, I know thats bs, but whatever. My brain knows what my legs don't. Yes, thats 10! YAY! 2 more for this set. No more stupid thighs sticking like superglue in this heat. Yes, pretty sundresses from Jacob and cute little empire waisted dresses, here I COME! I'm going to get rid of these massive thighs once and for all! BEGONE large thighs, you are hereby banned!!

*wheeze* uff! man! My legs feel like lead! Well, they look like lead too hahahahhaha, but ok, no! THINK positive Ish! Think hot dresses with HOTTER shoes! ICKS! OMG, so excited, I'll pee my pants!

Hey, who's that? Ooh, he's a hottie. OMG, look those dimples! I love dimples in a man, don't you Ish? Oh wait, is he coming over here? Oh crap, no! DON"T COME over here, hot dimpled dude! ICKS! He's not listening, Ish, he's coming over here, what to do?!

Relax, Ish, damage control, alert! Posture baby, Samosa said its all about posture. Suck in that gut, there.. youre already looking lean sitting on your fat ass because of your straightened posture. But what about sweaty me? oh man, why cant I be Superman and not be sweaty when I workout? I need a mirror and see how bad the situation is... oh no, I cant get up when he's coming over here, then he'll know for sure! Ok, ok, I know I have rosy cheeks, ok, cool, can do. Hair is nice and...not so lustrous, but whatver.Boobs, check. I love you boobs, thanks babes. Hey, maybe I should flex...

OMG, icks, he's too close, ok, ok, stop drooling like he's a tub of chocolate ice cream, look straight, maybe try not to wrinkle your forehead...

what? Im lifting weights, dumbass, of course I'm going to wrinkly my forehead! YOU lift weights and try NOT to wrinkle your forehead!!

OK, ok, relax! OK! He's here, SHEET, get rid of that flyaway hair, do you smell? AND smile and don----

Hot dimpled dude: Hi there. *dimpled smile*
[DROOL]
Isheeta (puddle of butter): Oh, hi :)
Hot dimpled dude: I couldn't help but notice while I was over there....
Isheeta (heart beating): Yeah?
Hot dimpled dude: Uhhh... how do I say this?
Isheeta: (OMG OMG OMG) Say what? *big sheepish grin*
Hot dimpled dude: Well, maybe if I could show you, that would be best...
Isheeta: (OMG! HE'S GOING TO KISS ME! ICKS! HOT DIMPLED DUDE WILL KILL MY SWEATY LIPS!) Oh..okaaaay... uhmmm..
Hot dimpled dude: This is how you were working out... You see the pad that's aligned with your chest here...?

Isheeta: Yes? (MY CHEST!! DONT touch me!! oh he's not..  Is that a compliment or is he trying to piss me off?! don't worry, my babies, I will protect you!)
Hot Dimpled Dude: See, its NOT supposed to be aligned to your chest.
Isheeta: Oh.
Hot Dimpled Dude: It's supposed to be on top of your thighs. Like this.

Hot Dimpled Dude: so your quads and glutes are isolated. Only the back of your legs should be doing the work. Otherwise, its ...um, pretty useless for you to do this workout.
Isheeta: Oh. *blushes*
Hot Dimpled Dude: Yeah. Alright, gotta hit the showers. Carry on! Ciao!

5 mins later.

Isheeta is still pumping iron.

ALONE.

NO HOT DIMPLED DUDE in sight. DAMN. Grrrrrrrrrr! Damn  Ish still feels pretty...err, dumb.

30 mins of elliptical machine later...

Whatever. I know he STILL wants my babies.

Waiting for Godot

Hopefully you've read/heard of this play to understand the title (and the rest that follows).

The definition of love, to me anyways, is sacrifice. Not the kind of sacrifice you hear about in history where the sun gods demanded some virginal lamb or anything... although yes, that does sound like a cool Sunday morning telly (mmmmm, lamb curry...). I'm talking about the ones that you probably see in your parents every day. You know, the immigrant experiences where your parents came to the country with $50 in their pockets and work weird jobs so you can grow up and....y'know, so you don't think their plastic lawn chairs or they themselves are embarassing when your friends come over and all.

The definition of beauty, to me, is innocence. So that nixes most of yours truly's profile pics :D . There's hotness, and that comes up with trips to the esthetician, gyms, tanning, hair straighteners, and of course, Marciano, and The Body Shop! And then there is beauty, and you just have to look at an infant or a child, or just nature, minding their own business to realize this concept.

Humility can be a more powerful tool in inducing a more emotional response than a "I'm Rick James, bitch!" attitude (although the latter does crack me up!. You just have to look at geeki's post here to check out the latest humbled marvel (and yes, he just won!). Talent helps, yes, but humility combined with sincerity can help you appreciate the finer things in life.

Fearlessness can make you feel like you're on top of the world... so in times of stress, grace under pressure is just a piece of cake. If you're afraid of nothing (meaning you are willing to accept ALL consequences), you've got nothing to lose to get closer to your vision (dreams arent reality, visions are).

And finally - laughter. This can change your world.

Being with someone who knows the importance of secret whispers in a crowded room while touching the small of your back or breathing down the nape of your neck.... even when you look like a truck ran over you.... and still doing all this in a crowded room knowing full well he could be in trouble but isnt afraid to do so because he wants to make you feel better... just to see you the crook of your smile.... well, then we know he's got all the 5 elements! Now THAT is Pricessless!

So yeah, I've got a bit of a wait there! :D

 

The Way It Is!

Does anybody have Timbaland's new Shock Value song "The Way I Are"?
(ya, the kid looks funny, but whatever)

I am in love with this song, but I can't seem to get a hold of it anywhere... can someone please email me if you have it... I'll add you to my MSN and we can swap kilobytes :D... and please don't be RCMP or anything silly like that and hunt me down :)

A long time ago, while waiting in a doctor's office, I came across this article in Reader's Digest. (Shut up, Reader's Digest CAN be .... fun-ny... at times....). The article was about this young girl and her heartwarming story, about how she met her hubby.

She was a normal looking girl, no Angelina Jolie... more like plain Jane, superbrain. And she decided to go to this swanky hoity-toity black tie affair party that she was invited to. So she decided to get all dolled up... she put on some make-up, eyeliner, put her hair up in a nice dippity-do, some killer red lipstick, a hot little black dress and sexy stilettos... nothing like a makeover to make a girl feel like a princess! She was smokin' aces!

Soon she attracted a hot young man oozing charisma and dashin' good looks. He was SO Sweet. The Prince Charming she had been waiting all her life... only she wasn't really waiting for him, she just bumped into him and it was instant chemistry. Picture perfect storybook. They hung around the whole night and had the time of their life. She found that he was actually visiting her city, but that was no big deal. They decided to swap numbers and to stay in touch.

So they did stay in touch... days turned to weeks turned to months. Love blossomed via mail and phone. All was good in the land of cupidity. He said that he couldn't wait to see her again, and he would so in a few days when he was coming into her town for business!

She was so excited! Finally, she would get to see the dashing young man again who had swept her off her feet that night and gave her goosebumps every night when they talked to each other on the phone. She couldn't wait to see him.

When they finally saw each other again though, she wasn't wearing her hot little black number. Her hair wasn't done up in a swanky 'do. Her cheeks weren't as porcelain as that night... she didn't look hot, but she looked pretty. Her cheeks were a summer's blush, no ruby red lipstick, her hair in loose curls, and she was wearing simple jeans and tee-shirt and gypsy sandals.

As for our Prince Charming... he looked as hot as before. YUM!

But this time around, he was a bit different to our little heroine. He was taken aback by her... casual persona. He had expected this woman who looked like the hot, sophisticated glamourous woman he had met during that enchanting evening.... he was expecting a WOMAN. He certainly was not expecting this.... GIRL who represented the epitomy of a flower child.

They hung around for a bit, and then he left.

She never saw him again after that day.

She was depressed for a while.. all those months communicating and sharing dreams with this.... Prince Charming jerk. He had expected this swanky little number woman... not a girl from the meadows.

She did end up marrying her Prince Charming though, eventually.... but she didn't meet him in a glamourous soiree in a cocktail dress. She met him in a park while walking her dog, and she was dressed very simply in a white skirt and cute pink top in a nice summer's day. They started talking about dogs, and before you know it, about similar interests, and before you know it.... about a mortage and the picket fences that it came with.

I'm sure they are living happily ever after. Maybe not glamourous ever after, but I'm sure happiness beats glamourous any day. :)

I went thru a period of being completely ignored by this lady's son a while back for the same reason. This lady was pushing for a relationship between myself and her son, although I was completely against it. Eventually I gave in. And then the lady became completely embarassed when her son decided he could do better because, hello, I couldn't possibly be good enough.

Then one day, he sees me at a party. And I'm in my little black number. :)

And of course, somebody does a 2nd turn and may possibly be eating their words (i.e. not me). The cat-and-mouse game has started to unfold.

My pride is in my way.. I do not chase. I do not look ever look back. Which is just as well, because I find out soon enough that this will NOT work out. So I say thanks but no thanks... we're not fit for each other.

And that's when the game of "But you have me all wrong" starts... and so the chase begins.

I'll keep you posted ;)