McPagal

Blonde Moments

2009-10-03T14:58:00.002+01:00

1.
McPagal is writing an [incredibly overdue] essay
McPagal: How do you spell infestismal?
Sister: "What?!"
McPagal: You know... infestismal. Like really really small. The spell checker has no suggestions.
Sister: ...do you mean infinitesimal?
McPagal: ...yeah. That.
Cue endless mocking by sister.

This is what comes of skim reading long words. And I thought I was good at spelling as well!

2.
McPagal is making pancakes.
Mama: Oooh, are you making one for me?
McPagal: No! All for me!
Mama: You know, there's no 'I' in 'pancake'.
McPagal: ...well there's no 'I' in 'beautiful' either!
Mama & Sister: HAHAHA YES THERE IS.
Cue endless mocking by mama and sister.

2009-09-24T20:39:00.001+01:00

Ramadhan is gone.

I feel depressed.

And now I feel worse because I don't even know if the last two sentences are related; and

Because this post sounds like a really crappy poem.

:(

Crime Scene Investigation

2009-08-02T14:50:00.000+01:00

Okay, I'll admit - CSI: Miami is a bit of a guilty pleasure for me, a cheesiness too good not to be indulged in occasionally. If you've never seen it then this will tell you everything you need to know about Horatio, the main character, and internet laughing stock:

(and this is hilarious too)

Anyways, I wrote this script for the same thing as the Rishtapprentice... thing.. but it never got used and it's a bit bizarre but I don't write stuff for no reason and it's been kicking about for a while so here you go I guess!

-------------------------
CSI Miami:
-------------------------

Characters
Horatio: aka H.
Eric Delko: H’s sidekick
Uncle Zafar: unclejee
Zeeshan: son
Aunty Zarina: auntyjee

Intro

Door opens

ERIC: Hear that, Horatio? A man was found dead in an apartment in London, dressed as a banana. Police say they want us to go investigate.

H: No need, Eric... This one... is a definite suicide.

ERIC: How do you know, H?! Are you a psychic CSI now?

H: No, I just... know... he killed himself.

ERIC: But why?!

H: Because he was... a kela.

YYYEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH! WON’T GET FOOLED AGAIN!! [intro music]

Main Bit

ERIC: Riiiiiiiiight. Look, we have another crime scene to investigate. We got a call at 0900 hours today, from a Mr Zeeshan Zubair. Apparently his mother has gone missing without a trace, last seen a week ago in the family home.

H: It’s seems... he thinks this is CSI:... My Ammi.

YYYEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!

ERIC: No H, we already did the start bit! You need to save the puns for later!

H: You don’t think they’re... punny?

ERIC: [pause] Let’s go.

Car screeches off

...Doorbell, door opens

ZEESHAN: CSI! Oh my God, am I glad you’re here!

H: Aaah, you must be... Mr Zubair.

ZEESHAN: Uhhh, yes. What’s with your sunglasses? We’re inside!

H: Never judge a man... until you’ve walked a mile in his... shades.

ERIC: That one was just weak, H.

ZEESHAN: And this is no time for jokes! My Ammi has gone missing!

H: Your... Ammi?

ZEESHAN: Yes! Last time we saw her was a week ago, in the kitchen making rotis. We think she might have been abducted by evil villains!

ERIC: Who’s this we, man?

ZEESHAN: Me and my dad! He’s in the kitchen. He’s been sitting there since she disappeared.

Kitchen door opens

UNCLE Z: Veeeeeeeeeeeeeehf! Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeegum! My jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!

ZEESHAN: He’s been like this all week, guys. We don’t know what to do without my ammi!

UNCLE Z: [sobbing] I miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissssssssss you begum!

ZEESHAN: Dad! These men are here to help us. They’re going to find out what happened to Ammi!

UNCLE Z: [still sobbing] ...My Zarina? You’re going to find her?

ERIC: We’ll do our best, sir.

UNCLE Z: Thank God! We haven’t been able to eat a thing all week!

ERIC: Wow, you’re that worried?

ZEESHAN: No, we just couldn’t work out how to use the cooker. Seriously! We pressed every single button, and no khana came out!

UNCLE Z: Veeeeeeeeeeeeeehhf!

H: We’ll find her. But now... we need you... to leave.

ERIC: Yes, we’ll need to investigate this crime scene – and we can’t let any evidence get contaminated. Could you wait outside please?

Door closes

H: Investigate the scene?... I just wanted... to steal their biscuits.

ERIC: H, man, that’s out of order! We need to find Zeeshan’s ammi!

H: Oh... right. Well, seal off the perimeter, Eric. I’ll check this area for evidence. ...

...

H: [GASP!]

ERIC: What is it boss? Have you found something?

H: It’s some kind of... white powder. It seems to be emanating from... that sack... over there.

ERIC: [sigh] Boss, that’s just flour. And the sack in the corner is a bag of Elephant Atta.

H: I... knew that. But what do you think of... this!

Clunk

H: It’s a strange... cuboidal structure. Gold coloured... with a piece of paper protruding from it.

ERIC: It’s a tissue-box holder, H. Look, here’s a hanky.

H: Who in their right mind... would cover a tissue box? No, Eric. This seems more like... a communication device. From an alien planet.

ERIC: Yes, okay. Hey Horatio, come and have a look at this! There’s a note on the fridge!

Rip noise

ERIC: reads “Zafar and Zeeshan. Remember I’ve gone to visit my sister in Leeds this week. Your dinners are in labelled boxes in the fridge. Just heat the food up in the microwave. I love you, back on Tuesday. Zarina. PS – take the food out of the box before you put it in the microwave. PPS – the microwave is the white machine in the corner, beside the fridge.”

ERIC: Ha, looks like we know where the missing Ammi is after all!

H: Don’t be... stupid, Eric. That’s just a decoy note. Planted by... aliens.

Door opens

AUNTY Z: Slaamlekum! Zeeshan? Zafar? Aap kaha he?!

H: You see?.. She’s even speaking... an alien language.

ERIC: ...Sure boss.

Door opens again (did anyone close it last time?!)

ZEESHAN: Ammi! You’re back!

ZAFAR: Veeeeeeeehhhf!

AUNTY: Bayta! Mian! Me tumhare liye lassi liyayy hu!

ERIC: Looks like it’s case closed, H.

H: Yes, all’s well... that ends well. And it seems that Lassie... wasn’t just a dog...

Sluuuurp!

The Rishtapprentice

2009-07-27T17:02:00.000+01:00

Last year I wrote a bunch of comedy scripts for the youth section of my local Ramadhan radio station, and I found them kicking about in my emails so I thought I'd share! The first one is based on The Apprentice - British version, hence the Sugar name. This one was a whole lot funnier when it was recorded, but anyway...

-------------------------

The Rishtapprentice
-------------------------

Characters:
NARRATOR: he narrates
The Family:
AUNTY CHINI: Over the top, overbearing and overweight
SAJID CHINI: Son of aunty
SHUGUFTA: daughter-in-law & advisor to aunty, voice of reason
SHAMYLA: older daughter-in-law & advisor, sycophant
The candidates:
MARIA: candidate (medic)
(AMIRA): “ “ (dentist)
PINKY: “ “ (pakistani)
SAMINA: “ “ (bimbo)
NASEEM: “ “ (male)
(FATIMA): “ “
(ZAINAB): “ “
(SHAZIA): “ “
(FARAH): “ “

Intro:
Music: The Apprentice theme tune
Voiceover:

AUNTY: This is the rishta interview from hell. I’ve raised my son for the last 27 years – your prize is, working for meeee!

NARRATOR: From across the country, 10 candidates have been chosen from 20 000 to come to London for the opportunity of a lifetime – to become the wife of millionaire entrepreneur, medical doctor and the country’s most eligible bachelor of all time, Sajid Chini.

AUNTY: I’m looking for a girl who is cream of the crop – beautiful, eh-smart, taaallll, gori, lovely, and she always listens to me. This is the most important decision Sajid will ever make, so I will help make it for him!

NARRATOR: But first Maria, Amira, Pinky, Samina, Fatima, Zainab, Shazia, Farah and Naseem will have to prove their worth in a gruelling series of tests - and will ultimately face Aunty Chini herself in the sitting room to find out who’ll be fired... and who’ll be hired. 9 candidates, one job. Welcome... to the Rishta Apprentice!

Music ends.

Main bit:
AUNTY: Velcome in front of me. As you are knowing, I am the number one aunty in Britain today. My 3 sons are together vorth over 10 million pounds – but the money doesn’t matter, because they are all dactars and also very handsome. I am controller of this family empire, and now I am looking for an apprentice. My bahus Shugufta and Shamyla are here to help me decide, by watching you 24/7 and reporting back to me everything. And of course my son vill make the ultimate decision. Say salaam Sajid!

SAJID: Uhhh... salaam girls. I just, uhh, wanted to say before we start this that-

AUNTY: Aho Sajid. Now we will start the first task, but before that- Naseem?

NASEEM: Yes Aunty? I’m really looking forward to this, you know, I’m going to give 110% and I think I’ve got what it takes to go all the way, I can be the best daughter-in-law ever!

AUNTY: You’re fired.

NASEEM: disappointed Aww...

AUNTY: Let’s see... Farah, Shazia and Zainab? You’re all fired too.

GIRLS: But we just got here! You can’t do that! Why?? Etc

AUNTY: Tooooooo short, too fat and too ugly. Get out! You’re hurting my eyes! And Fatima, you too. You might want to stay out of the sun, you look like a little burnt kajoor.

NARRATOR: 9 candidates reduced to 4 in a single master stroke – but what’s in store next?

AUNTY: Acha. Now your first task, kooriyay, is what I like to call ‘the roti challenge’. The koori who makes the most rotis wins, and gets to suggest to me who I should fire next. But the rotis must be mazadar and acha and fair and lovely. And also you don’t get any tawa, atta, and you’re not allowed to use my kitchen.

Pause

SHUGUFTA: Saas-ji, maybe we should give them some money so they can make the rotis somewhere else?

AUNTY: Chup! When I vas a girl ve made rotis from the whatevers ve had in our pockets, and ve had to valk 12 miles to get to the tandoor! In the pouring rain, with no shoes on! And then ve had to valk on coals while people threw stones at us!

SHAMYLA: Yeah, shut up Shugufta!

AUNTY: Now get out of my house! And make me some rotis!

Door slam

NARRATOR: 6 hours later, the girls are allowed back inside to show the fruits of their labour...

AUNTY: Acha so ve are all back here now, and I see ve have some rotis. I vill judge to see if they look pyari enough, and taste delicious too. Roti time!

Tense music

NARRATOR: The candidates are judged in alphabetical order. First up is Amira, a dentist from London, who-

Music cuts off

AUNTY: Vait vait vait. Did you say dentist?!

NARRATOR: Erm, yes?

AUNTY: Dentist is just someone too stupid to be a dactar! Amira, you’re fired!

NARRATOR: In an unexpected turn of events, our 4 candidates are swiftly reduced to 3! The next up is Maria, a doctor from Edinburgh.

AUNTY: Haa, ye to acha hai.

Tense music starts again

MARIA (nervous): Aunty-Chini-Ji, I used the emergency bag of atta I keep to make these rotis, over a campfire I lit myself. I- I hope you like them Auntyji!

AUNTY: Hmmm, the shape is nice and round... texture is a little bit too thin, but okay...
Aunty eats, loudly

AUNTY: Hmm, not too bad! I give you 6 out of 10. Plus one point for being a daactar. Satt!

NARRATOR: Next up is Pinky, a kuri from Jalander in Pakistan.

PINKY: Auntyji, aap bohot pyari hein aaj! Hee hee! Vat I did vas I made a tandoor from scratch, and I ground the atta myself from some vheat in a field. Packet atta is not so good, you know?

AUNTY: Haiii? These rotis are so round! And so light and fluffy!

PINKY: Hunna? And if you look closer aunty, I made your shakal in the roti in the little bits I saik-ed!

AUNTY: Achaaaaa? Aunty eats noisily again

AUNTY: Koi hor hai? Mmm, perfect! Nine out of ten, any better and it would be made by me!

NARRATOR: Last up is Samina, an office worker from Leeds – but she has a hard act to follow.

SAMINA: Soooo, I went to Tesco, but they, like, don’t sell “Rotis”? And I asked around, and like bought some flour, but it might have been self-raising? But, like, I’m a really talented woman, and I think I really nailed this task, you know! By the way, it’s Sam, not Samina, okaaay?

AUNTY: Oh my Gawwd. I’ve not seen such a horrible roti since I let my bahu Shagufta cook for the first time. Sooo fat! And burnt! And the shape... it looks like a map of India! Aunty eats with displeasure

AUNTY: Euuurgh, it tastes like one too!.. No points! No points for you! Kuriye, I need to get that taste out of my mouth.. so your next task is... make me some chai!

PINKY: Done! I made it pukka Pakistani style Auntyji, with dalchini and garam masala and lachee and ghur and padaam and sownf and halva, and also a teabag.

SAMINA: Ohmigod, that’s like so unfair! She made it while we were talking!

MARIA: She’s tayz alright...

AUNTY: Vell, a good kuri vould have thought of that. Acha kaam kiya.

NARRATOR: 2 tasks over, and one to go. Now, the candidates have to-

AUNTY: Tu kyon bolta rehta? No more tasks. I have made my decision! Ajo! Betto!

NARRATOR: Fine! [Quickly] The candidates make their way to the boardroom for the final rishta meeting, where Aunty Chini will make her decision on who gets to marry her son Sajid. Okay?

Tense music again

AUNTY: Acha. I have 3 girls in front of me... and only 1 can be vinner. Samina?

SAMINA: Yes Aunty? It’s me? Ohmigod, I just knew you’d love me!

AUNTY: You’re fire. You can’t make roti, or chai, you talk too much, and you’re not even veering a shalwar kameez. Chal paray! Maria?

MARIA: ...yes?

AUNTY: Your rotis were not bad, and you’re a daactar. But you’re still too short, and my Sajid is nice and lamba. You’re fired!

MARIA: Oh thank God. I can’t believe my mum put me through this!

AUNTY: Now... Pinky!

PINKY: Jee auntyjee? Meh boht khush hoon! Meh vinner hogee! Hee hee!

AUNTY: Aap bhi fired hain.

EVERYONE: Haiii?!

NARRATOR: What?!

AUNTY: Haan, yes, your rotis were nice and the chai vas so mazadar, but I have chosen a different winner! Everyone, meet... my niece from Pakistan!

NIECE: Slaamlekum jee.

SAJID: Ammeeee! You said you wouldn’t make me marry a cousin!

AUNTY: But she is the vinner! And contract says you have to marry the vinner!

SAJID: continues to protest and sob in background

NARRATOR: Join us again for another edition of Ristapprentice! But not with me – I quit! You can’t fire me, aunty!

Theme tune

Returnings!

2009-07-10T17:45:00.006+01:00

I done been to Morocco and back! It all feels a bit surreal, like 'hey, was I really 1500 miles from home for 3 weeks?'. And yes, I was sad enough to check that. (The distance, not the time, the latter being fairly obvious). And even though I have been home for nearly 2 weeks now, I am still procrastinating about unpacking, and have a suitcase full of (clean! because I'm not completely gross) clothes and junk lying on my bedroom floor, accumulating dust. I decided that 3 weeks was a good a time to unpack as any, my room is clean(ish), but I now have a report to avoid writing...

So now's as good a time to share my observations as any! (I have lots of pictures but can't be bothered uploading them... sorry!)

-------------------------

1) Moroccan kids (at least, the ones we saw) are not like British kids. When you're treating kids in the UK, you have to tell them as much as possible about what you're doing ('I'm going to put your tooth to sleep with my special sleepy spray!' 'there's a buzzy bee cleaning your tooth now!' - and yes, I have really said this) and offer constant reassurance ('You're doing really well! Great job!' as you pat them on the shoulder and try to ignore the fact that they're biting your fingers). We started out treating the Moroccan kids this way, til someone pointed out that they were getting freaked out by us being so nice to them, and were surmising that if we were acting so kind, we must have something really horrible planned for them - at which point they'd start crying, bawling, screaming, etc, making it pretty hard to even look at their teeth, never mind numbing em up and pulling em out. Once we learned to leave the nice-guy talk til after treatment, we did a lot better.

2) That said, I have never, ever made so many children cry as I did over there. I felt like an absolute monster, but to actually get anything done on an anxious kid, I just had to get firm with them, get someone to hold their hands down, and just do it. If they were really acting up, then we'd just have to get a native dentist to deal with them - they were a lot more experienced, but could be a lot more harsh to the kids. Which was good in that they got the treatment they needed, but bad in that the kid could get yelled at, and held down, and generally emotionally traumatised to get it :-/

3) Despite the above, I discovered that I love working with kids. I wasn't too psyched about it before, but you get away with acting daft, and you can actually have fun! Not that treating adults isn't fun, but you never get to play with hand puppets, or give them stickers, or skoosh them with air for funsies - not without seeming a bit odd, anyways. My newfound love of paediatrics might have something to do with the fact that...

4) ...In Morocco, some kids would give us a wee peck on the cheek or a random hug to say thanks for treating them. It was adorable! Even if they'd been screaming their heads off 5 minutes earlier :)

5) The most important words for a dentist to know in a foreign land: OPEN and OPEN WIDER.

6) Some native Arabic speakers find it absolutely bizarre, ranging on the criminal, for a Muslim not to speak Arabic. It's like a doctor admitting they don't really know anatomy, just a few body parts here and there. 'But... you're Muslim!' they'd say, as if saying the shahada makes you multilingual. We'd explain that we were trying to learn, inshallah - 'Inshallah? So you do know Arabic!'. [One taxi driver having this conversation started saying Alhamdulillah a lot - I just thought he was in a praiseful mood. Then I realised he was trying to see if I knew Surah al Fatihah! Bemused, I started reciting it, which made him very happy. He then did the same with Surah Ikhlas and Nas - I think he might have been checking if we were imposter-Muslim tourists who'd dressed all Moslemically to get into all the good mosques, or something]. Then they'd inevitably ask us how we read the Quran - in English? And what about Salah?. We'd then have to explain that we could read Arabic, and say Arabic, but we didn't always know what it meant til we'd studied it. I didn't realise that that seems strange until now.. hmph.

7) Despite this, you can get remarkably far in a conversation with just a few words of Arabic and French (you just have to mumble incoherently in between to make it sound like you're speaking in sentences, rather than stating words at people like some kind of neanderthal).

8) People start understanding attempted-Arabic a lot better once you start getting the confidence to attempt the accent. I can understand that - Arabic in a Scottish accent sounds a tad nonsensical.

9) Speaking of which, Scotland doesn't exist. Seriously. 'Where are you from?', people would ask. 'Scotland.' = blank expression. 'Britain' = blank expression. 'UK?' = still blank. 'England?' = still blank, and a bitter taste in one's mouth. And in a final leap of desperation - 'London??'. 'Aaaah, London! You should have said!'.
Actually, one lady I was talking to on a train had lived in England and gone to primary school there, and she'd heard of Scotland. 'That's where everybody has red hair! And the men wear skirts, and play that funny pipe! And you eat haggis!'. Needless to say, I didn't much take to this lady.

10) When someone at the airport asks you your origin, they're not asking where you started your journey. Or where you fly through, or even what your nationality is. Telling them all of the above will cause the large man holding your passport to get frustrated, and loudly (because they've realised they're dealing with an idiot) ask: WHERE WAS YOUR FATHER BORN? And when you say 'Oh! Pakistan', they will carefully write Pakistani in the 'nationality' box, beside British - despite the fact that your passport is in front of them, and is not green.

11) Griping aside, I've never called myself Pakistani as much as I did there. Partly to avoid getting ripped off by taxi drivers and shopkeepers, and partly because it made more sense to people. Heck, being in a hot Muslim country actually made me curious about Pakistan - I've not been since I was 7, and I don't think I'd hate it as much now as I did then. I kind of want to go and do a similar kind of project there - although the fact that this is a huge climb down from the 'I don't intend to got there ever in my life' attitude makes it a wee bit hard to admit.

12) Morocco (or Casablanca at least) has a weird mix of Muslims. There's some that I think of as normal - pray 5 times a day, dress modestly, don't drink alcohol, don't go nightclubbing, don't lie, cheat, steal type of Muslims. Then there's others that are like the first group, but do go nightclubbing, and don't think much of modesty, judging by their skimpy outfits on the beach. What makes it seem odd to me is that they still pray regularly (even wrapping a djellabah or something over their bikini or whatever after having a swim to go pray dhuhr, before peeling it back off and jumping into the pool again), and read the Quran, and know all about it. They'll even admit that they're doing something wrong, but they don't have the motivation to do anything about it. I guess it's easy to judge them because they're doing it so visibly - but it's still weird.

13) It's nice to walk down the street, or jump in a taxi, or go into a shop, and hear the Quran playing on the stereo. And I miss hearing the adhan.

Fun with call centre staff

2009-05-11T00:51:00.003+01:00

*ring ring*

Me: Hello?

Call centre guy: Yes hello, this is Steve from Wastyertime Services - is Mr... uhh... Eeq...bowl there please?

Me: Mr Who?

CCG:Ummm.... Eeqerball?

Me: ...could you spell that please?

CCG: I-Q-B-A-L

Me: Ohhhh! Mr Iqbal!

CCG: Yes, that's it! I'm so sorry, I-

Me: -Well, he's not here I'm afraid. Sorry! *hangs up*

-NB: My surname isn't Iqbal, I just used that as an example. My sister started the whole 'schooling call centre drones on spelling and pronunciation' thing - seriously, some of these guys don't even try, they just see a brown name, open their mouths, and spew out a few vowels expecting whoever answers to decipher it all. Hmph.

----------

*ring ring*

Me *bored and in a stupid mood*: 'ALLLEWWW?

Call centre girl: Hi-*bursts out laughing*

Me: HAHAHA! lol!

CCG: lol!

Me: Well, bye!

CCG: Goodbye!

-NB: Sadly, this conversation was the high point of my day.

----------

*ring ring*

Me: Hello?

Call centre guy: Hi, is that Miss McPagal? I'm calling on behalf of your bank, do you have a few minutes to do a quick survey?

Me: *what the hey, anything to waste 5 minutes of studying time* Uhhh... sure!

CCG: Really?! Great! Well, our records show that you recently made a transaction at our High Street branch, all my questions will relate to this visit.

Me: Ok...*vaguely remembers running in to deposit £40 or so in my emergency-petrol-fund-debit-card-account, and maybe checking my balance*

CCG: Right, please answer all of these questions on a scale of 1-10, where 10 is the best possible service, and 1 is service you were very unhappy with. How long was the wait?

Me: There was no wait, so... 10!

CCG: Great! Now, how was the general ambience? ...Did the cashier greet you politely? ...Did the cashier greet you by name? ...Were you happy with the service overall? ...Did you get good vibes from the wallpaper? ...How accurate was the clock? ...Blah blah blah? Blah?

Me: *Oh God, why did I agree to this?! I don't even remember this visit! I think the cashier was the blond guy... I was out of there in less than 2 minutes, for goodness sake! Hmmm, I'll just answer everything in a pattern, then go watch Psych.* 4... 5... 6... 5... 4... 5... 6...

CCG: Thanks for your time, have a nice day!

Two days later...

*ring ring*

Me: Hello?

Bank Manager: Hello, could I speak to Miss McPagal please?

Me: speaking...

BM: Hi, my name is something unmemorable. I'm calling about a survey relating to your recent transaction at Bank, High Street, Miss McPagal?

Me: Wait, I think I've done this already, sorry.

BM: Yes Miss McPagal, I just wanted to ask you some further questions about the responses you gave. You see, I'm the manager of High Street branch, and I was very concerned that you were unhappy with the service you received, and want to know what we can do to improve service in future.

Me: uh... to be honest, I can't remember much about the visit, I was only there for a couple of minutes, and-

BM: Yes yes yes. Well, you scored Andrew, your cashier, a 5 for his service. Obviously, I'm unhappy with this. What exactly were you unhappy with?

Me: I-

BM: WHAT DID ANDREW THE CASHIER DO WRONG?! We are committed to improving standards here. Andrew was very unhappy to receive a 5!

Me: I'm sorry! I was in a hurry, and I just said 5 for most things! I couldn't remember much, honest! Bye!

BM: Please come again! Bye!

I don't think I'm ever going to that branch again - if I saw Andrew, I would not be able to look him in the eye. I'm sorry, Andrew. Next time, I'll say 10/10 for everything. You deserve it.

things I do to avoid studying...

2009-04-29T18:37:00.004+01:00

You know, like, updating this blog :)

After almost a year of use, my beloved Uniball Clipturn FREE GIFT pen looked like it was running low, which might sound like a trivial and, to be brutally honest, somewhat boring fact - but if you know me well enough, you'll know is a SERIOUS CRISIS of ULTIMATE SEVERITY to be dealt with as soon as possible, IF NOT SOONER, AND NO THE CAPITAL LETTERS ARE NOT UNNECESSARY. *ahem*. What I mean is, I would be slightly inconvenienced if I didn't have it refilled in time for exams. beginning in exactly five days? aaaaaaaaaaaaargh...

Naturally, I followed the link for refills from the Uniball website, and spent the next hour or so ogling pens on the Cult Pens website, which looks a wee bit scaffy but is actually pretty awesome. I started out sensibly, just looking at what I needed - then I thought, it's better to buy in bulk - and from there it was like, dude, spend a bit more and you get free delivery - and then somehow I started looking at £200 Porsche pens.
Don't worry though, I'm not daft enough to buy anything like that! (...yet)

I did, however, get some AMAZING new Pilot Parallel calligraphy pens... just in case the stash I 'acquired' from my dad and sister wasn't enough. But seriously. These things are crazy fun to play with. They come with 12 colours of ink! And you can blend the colours!!

taken from a great review I read here

Unfortunately, this has resulted in me spending an awful lot of time playing about with them, and practicing my lettering, and looking up part time courses in calligraphy, than actually studying. Ho hum, this happens every year. One year I made a papier-mache chicken instead of doing studying for standard grades - but dude, they were standard grades. That's GCSE's for any non-Scots - basically the exams you get around age 16 to check you haven't fallen through the cracks and can actually read and write somewhat competently :P (apologies to GCSE-taking readers - but guys, don't stress! I didn't study, and I'm doing okay! This cardboard box I'm living in is reeeeally roomy.)

I'm kind of losing the plot now (if I had it to begin with) - but basically, what happens to me around exam time is I start planning new hobbies, or courses, or even careers - and I'm absolutely positive that I'm going to pursue it all right up until summer holidays actually start, whereupon I vegetate in the house for a couple of months then wonder where the time went :-|

Here's my list for this year:
- Learn to juggle (yes, I know this has been on my list for the past 5 years - but so has most of this other stuff)
- Skip for 45 minutes a day I've been reliably told by my physiotherapist that I'm unfit :(
- Start cycling, and perhaps cycle-commute to Uni next year (this one has my dad worried. He says "99% of drivers are sensible, but it's that 1% you should be scared of... can't you just cycle round cycle paths where no one else goes?". I know he's just being protective, and I do agree with him, but dad! At my age you rode a motorbike! In Pakistan, where there's no road safety laws! Even the traffic direction is a suggestion!
- Learn to sew
- Go horseriding
- Go to Go Ape (again!)
- Start a calligraphy class
- Find some kind of.. part time illustration class? If they exist :/
- Go to Morocco and do a kick-ass elective project treating kids who are too poor to go to a normal dentist

If you think that last one seems a tad out of place - it's because it's actually planned out, booked, and going to happen (inshallah!). I can't wait!

...Just have to get through exams first...

Tantrum #2934848356

2009-04-15T17:44:00.002+01:00

Things that have annoyed me recently:

People saying ridiculous things about 'ooooh, the weather is so awful, I'm going to get the flu'. IT'S NOT RAINING VIRUSES MAN. Though that would be really gross.

People casually mentioning how horrendously haram everything is, as long as they don't do it themselves, and nitpicking about minor things. Seriously, quit telling me that I have one bloomin' [not literally... unfortunately] hair sticking out of my hijab - once or twice is okay, but every day?! My sideburns will not cause unrelated men to fall in love with me! And if they're flapping in the breeze, chances are that I know and am already irritated at what a bad hijab day I'm having!

Similarly: the whole over-ital'iciz3d-and-decorated-with-extra-apostrophes-and-lines style of Arabic transliteration. The point is to make it legible in English. If you really want to portray the original Arabic, write in Arabic script. Also, people can understand just fine if you stick an 's' on the end of an Arabic word to make it plural - when you start talking Shuyookh and dua'aat and using Arabic where English would suffice, with extra ayns and throat-clearing khaa's where no ayn or kha should go - you're just being difficult.

This sign that I see on the side of a bowling club on the way home (the old people on grass kind of bowling, not the ten-pin kind): "Shooglediwhoop Bowling Club Welcome's New Members!". Give that apostrophe back, you don't deserve it!

People studying. This may seem absurd (rather, more absurd than usual), but dudes, you're making me feel bad. Quit stressing about exams, because then I get stressed that I'm not stressed and therefore lack the drive to study. Before returning to my desk to play online games, or doodle, or just stare at the wall til it's time for dinner. Or write blog rants. Whatevs, homeys.

hijabuddies

2009-04-10T15:04:00.002+01:00

So, I have a mild addiction to facebook graffiti (it can usually be controlled by getting addicted to something else instead, like point and click web games... man, I loved MOTAS). And this is one of the few original things I've done, rather than copying a still from a Disney movie, which is, admittedly, a fun way to spend an afternoon. So I thought I'd share!

My assessment of the above:
1. Purple kurta girl. Jeez, what a snob. She's all like, "Y'all are stupid, stay away from me!"
2. Green abaya girl. She has a hearty laugh, but it masks her sadness at living with strange, warped potato hands. Doing up buttons has always been a challenge.
3. She's not being funny - the wind changed direction all those years ago.
4. Pink abaya girl went one stage further - she glued her arm in that anatomically incorrect position. Good intention though, she just wanted to spread peace. Pity she forgot that from behind, she's swearing at people.
5. Pie head girl - what else can you say?

How to Ruin Your Mum's Favourite Song

2009-03-23T01:19:00.003+01:00

This post comes to you in honour of mother's day, which as a somewhat less than perfect daughter, I am clearly honouring a day late.

Step One: Identify your mum's favourite song. In my case, I think it's this:

(although with my innate knowledge for ruining songs, my mum might be deceiving me deliberately...)

Step Two: Sing the lyrics as often, as loudly, and of course as tunelessly as possible. You don't even need to know most, or indeed any of the words. Anything you don't know can be replaced with lalala's or neeneenee's. If you're adopting pro tactics, learn one line and make it fit the entire melody.

Step Three: When you are forbidden from doing the above, hum the melody from time to time, interspersed with amateur beatboxing and shouts of 'break it down!'.

Step Four: This part is treading into dangerous territory. Again, take to singing the song, but now subtly change or indeed completely overhaul the words to be offensive, irritating, and downright unseemly. Bonus points go for toilet humour and abstract symbolism.

Step Five: Take your pillow, your duvet, and maybe your entire winter wardrobe. Duct tape the whole lot to your body. It will be invaluable protection while you receive the (possibly chapal-aided) beating of your life.

Step Six: As a mother's day gift, promise not to do any of the above again. See the tears of happiness well up in your mother's eyes. For bonus bonus points, make her a cup of tea.

To my long suffering mother who sometimes reads this blog at work as of a couple of weeks ago: I love you so much, and am constantly surprised that you put up with me too :)

Canya tell whut it is, yet?

2009-03-19T21:56:00.002+01:00

So iMuslim did this post where she took some pretty cool macro shots of stuff in her room, and because I'm all about the cool (and also all about the lazy-blog-updates, and stealing other people's ideas), I thought I'd copy her!

Most of these are pretty obvious, but hey, try to guess what all this junk is before I tell you why not. This should be made considerably harder by the fact that the photography kind of sucks - I can't remember if I remembered to switch on macro for all these, besides they were all taken on a camera phone, and also my hands were shaking and aliens landed and the lighting was poor. 5 excuses in one sentence, I think that's quite commendable.

Answers:
1. My rubbish dental toolkit. Rubbish because we had to buy it for like £50, even though it was only needed for 1 year, But cool because man, you never know when you'll need a wax knife.

2. A plaster cast of my teeth, as of 4 years ago.

3. Pennies. There's 21 in a wee wooden box, one from every year of my life. Some people are born great. Others achieve greatness. Still others collect pennies and photograph them.

4. My Filofax. I love this thing. The weird blue-ness in the background is some abstract Vista background.

5. My wallpaper, I haven't drawn on it, I promise.

6. Origami froggy! Needs no further explanation.

7. A cool wooden puzzle thing, from a set of 4. This one is the least fiddly, and the second most pretty.

8. Some books. They're not all just Oxford Dictionaries of Words and Phrases and Terry Pratchett. There may be a medical dictionary and a BNF in there somewhere too.

9. A glass egg ornament thing I bought from TK Maxx on a whim, then regretted as my arm near enough fell off as I carted it home. It'll be worth it when my glass chicken hatches though.

10. The wheel of my chair. Check that out.

11. My beloved stationery drawer. I feel blissful just looking at it. A clearer angle:

*drool*

Uhhh.. that's all for today, folks. Except for me telling you that I'm finishing this post a full week after starting it. Now that's dedication.

Let the revolution begin!

2009-02-25T23:59:00.000+01:00

Observe:

Notice anything? How about:

Ok, I mean apart from the fact that the adverts are mind-bogglingly inane...

What's bothering me [this time] is the tiny little disclaimer - filmed with lash inserts and enhanced in post-production. I don't know if I got the wording exactly right, and I can't be bothered to check it now, so hooray. Aaanyway, it strikes me as rather bizarre that an advert aiming to sell gloop to make your eyelashes look bigger relies on methods other than said gloop to in fact make eyelashes look bigger.

Doesn't that just prove that said, said gloop does not in fact work as claimed, and that buying said, said said gloop in hopes of one's eyelashes reaching the stars of infinity and beyond (I may be mixing mascara methaphors here), is in fact stupid, since the only way to make one's eyelashes look like the ones in the advert is to wear fakey's and carry around some kind of holographic projection post production device that may or may not be invented in the near future? Doesn't it?!

Perhaps, on a day not too far from today, women (and men - hey, who's to judge) all around the world will collectively put down their eyelash-gloop-brushes and say: no. No to going around all day with hardened, gloopy eyelashes for no reason. Perhaps all these women will then have a few extra minutes per day each - adding up to millions of hours worldwide (no, I haven't actually done the maths, so er... shush) in which they can focus their minds on other, less banal things - such as proving that women can reverse park along with the best of them, and maybe taking over the world.

I think I should have stopped typing a few paragraphs ago, non?

Procrati-whoozits.

2009-02-21T01:43:00.003+01:00

I posted a big-mama-jama doodle up here once, but now all the pictures from it have inexplicably disappeared into the ether, making linking back to or even mentioning that post really quite useless, which is why i've done it anyway :)

Another year of soul-destroyingly boring lectures brings you this(!)

The MegaDoodle!

Kind of the opposite of the disappear-ded MacroDoodle (oh my word, I'm so creative with these names...). It got kind of boring doing random swirlies all over the place, so in there somewhere are a:

snake
fish
ladybird
dodo
peacock
wizard
giraffe
gorilla
sheep
cat
aeroplane
alligator
broomstick
snowman
diamond
cow
dolly
pencil
butterfly
cake
skull
bits of lyrics
and maybe some other supersecretbonus stuff, also known as mcpagal-can't-be-bothered-remembering-what-else-is-in-there stuff.

I was bored enough to fill that whole page. If you're like me, why not spot all the weird junk in it?

Oh Lordy. I guess this means I have nothing to distract me from studying now. Unless... *caresses computer*

Twittererer

2009-02-12T11:04:00.004+01:00

Seriously, I'm a twit.
If you're a twit too, follow me why don't you? [It's one of these things I made an account for ages ago and forgot about til they emailed me then I remembered, only I didn't make it in my blog name (or my real name for that matter) so don't let that confuse you, it's still me typing and you getting to read it, you lucky things.]

Also, just so this isn't a useless post (why settle for useless when I can go for entirely useless?), and to continue the bus-y theme from before, you might like to know that my past bus journeys have featured:
- A fat man clutching a Glasgow Sweet House box to his chest and scoffing jalebis
- A drunk man drinking beer and smoking a tiny dog-end cigarette, the kind with something smellier than tobacco in
- A drunk man arguing with a woman who told him to stop smoking, but he said he wasn't pished enough yet
- A drunk man who had a small dog wearing a jacket, and it sat beside me. Drunk man kept proclaiming that doggy was his best friend, better than any human, and had an IQ of 120 and like to play Countdown and smoke joints with drunk man
- [All of the above were on the same bus journey!]
- Oh and one time a guy sat beside me and started drinking, but he was already so drunk that he fell asleep ON MY SHOULDER and spilled beer all over the floor.

The End.

BUSLIFE: Act 2^48, Scene 1

2009-01-20T22:11:00.004+01:00

MCPAGAL sits at the top of the bus, tucked behind the staircase, feet resting on the barrier in front. The upper floor here is fairly empty, the only other passengers are a couple behind her talking in such low tones as to be inaudible, and a middle-aged lady up front laden with shopping. Our heroine contemplates deep things like the meaning of life, the futility of ambition, and the fact she has to cook dinner tonight.

Traffic slows to a crawl due to an accident on the dual carriageway; another bus is stranded on the pavement like a beached whale (or possibly, like a vehicle on the pavement).

Uneven, thudding footsteps alight the stairs.

DRUNKMAN enters the scene

DRUNKMAN: Shjpshhsh? Krjzhh.

DRUNKMAN stumbles forward, his frazzled proprioception and the swaying of the bus combining to give him the gait of a ballet dancer wearing cement shoes, trying to walk in a straight line after being spun round in an office chair til dizzy and nauseous, and also the ballet dancer has taken drugs. As he reaches the front of the bus, he misjudges where exactly the front of the bus is, and smacks his head neatly on the window.

A neat imprint of DRUNKMAN's head is left, ironically, beside the convenient 'MIND YOUR HEAD' sign on the glass.

DRUNKMAN: Auuuurghhh! Awwaaaah! Owwwww!

DRUNKMAN thumps heavily into a seat and clutches his head in his hands, bending over so his head is in his lap too. He tips forward a little, so his head is now unfortuitously placed beneath a horizontal pole. DRUNKMAN continues to emit quiet whimpers, while MCPAGAL awaits the inevitable.

DRUNKMAN is soon recovered - and sure enough, when he raises his head: THUMP.

DRUNKMAN: WAAAAAAARGH! AAAAAAARGH! AWWWWWWWWWGGGHH! OOOOOOOOHHHHHH! [...continues along the same lines for a number of minutes]

...eventually...

DRUNKMAN: If it's no one thing, it's another, eh?? EH??

Ssshhhh... Shuu... SHE sez tae me, right?! Schchchcheeeeehh sez, be up the road the noo, right? And I sez tae hurrrr, there's a bus onna pavement! Eh? And ah'm gonnae be late right?

And shhhe tells me whatta dae alla time right? Dae this, dae that, go here, do that! And I ha' tae gie her a-hunner-an-shikshtae-pounds a month! Jussshhhht cuz she had a wean by me, eh? AHUNNERANSHIKSHTY POUNDS! [continues in incoherent mumbles]. An' she goes tae hur brother's, right, and get's like, a big fancy dinner! Wi' all the... fancy bits! An' I gie hur allae ma money, sho all ah get is the f'in sh*tty dinners the same as the wean huz!

DRUNKMAN seems to have sobered up enough to have recovered some fine motor skills - enough to dial a mobile phone in any case.

DRUNKMAN: HAW!! WHIT DYOO MEAN AH'M LATE? AH TRIED TAE CALL YOO SUX TIMES AWREADY! WHIT? WHIT? AH DIDNAE CALL YOO SUX TIMES! YOO JUST CHECK MAH PHONE WHEN AH GIT THERE! AH'M AT THE WEE SCHOOL NOO!

At this juncture DRUNKMAN heaves himself out of his seat, and manages a controlled fall down the stairs and out of the open bus doors - the bus driver seemed to think it advisable to stop prior to opening the doors, however.

MCPAGAL and the remaining passengers can now meet each others' eye - when they do, they share a tiny moment of understanding, and a laugh.

FIN.

Interview

2009-01-14T16:20:00.002+01:00

Hey, look, I got interviewed by Raziqueh Hussein of Khaleej Times!

What do you mean 'so what'? It's a big step... my disconnected tangential ramblings are getting spread around, sharing the love as it were.

Mmmm, tangential tangerine.

Pakistan sure exports a lot of them. Seriously.

2009-01-08T23:17:00.002+01:00

image source

"The three little children lying on the floor of the overcrowded morgue looked like sleeping dolls.

"Get up, boy, get up," cried the weeping father, who lost a total of 13 close relatives when an Israeli shell hit his house east of Gaza City. "Please get up. I am your dad and I need you," he implored helplessly.

The oldest was 4 years old. Their mother was killed too."

I can't think of anything else right now. For what it's worth: Gaza, my prayers are with you.

Eulogy

2008-12-31T17:58:00.002+01:00

Goodbye 2008. We hardly knew ye.

Poor, Sad Souls

2008-12-02T23:10:00.001+01:00

You know, there are people visiting my blog after searching for things like 'How to write a good essay', or even 'Please help me my essay is due tomorrow'. Given that this whole blog is usually me ignoring my essays, and that I totally forgot to do an essay that was due yesterday and had to beg my year coordinator to accept it today (she didn't get back to me... haha) - well, this just isn't the best place to be looking for help, dearies.

That whole last paragraph was useless preamble. Do you like my new layout? I want to do some colouring-in now!

ANNOUNCEMENT #2

2008-11-12T13:59:00.002+01:00

Very important things to note:

-SEQUINS =/= SEQUENCE.
I wish all the desi people of the world would realise this.
Sequins = little shiny things on clothes.
Sequences = stuff arranged in order.

Simple, right? So why do people (girls, mostly - well... I hope) say stuff like 'My dress had all these sequences on it!'. Get it right man! Next time someone says it, I'll- not say anything probably, for fear of sounding like a pedantic ass (again).

I mean, check this out: I could never buy that sari purely because of the badly worded description. And because it's overpriced. And because I never wear saris. But still, the badly worded description had some part to play!

-IDEAR =/= IDEA.
I guess this bugs me a little bit, but I'm just fulfilling a request here :P.

-LADIES ONLY = ONLY LADIES
Aha! What a fiendish puzzle indeed - you're having a mendhi [or equivalent pre-wedding bridal party] of the sort that usually only involved women, mostly girls. You write 'Ladies Only' on the invite. You then proceed to invite the family, making a special effort to verbally ask the males to come too.

This does not make sense to me.

If you want a mixed event, why write 'ladies only' on the card? Or if you want a ladies only event, why ask guys to come too? GET IT RIGHT PLZ.

On the subject of wedding invites: they kind of suck. (At least the ones I get. Well, not me, but my family as a whole. If it was just me, I probably wouldn't get an invite, on account of being a pedantic ass [see above]).

Forget the mis-spellings and unnecessary capital letters. All over the card. It's probably just because they're printed abroad a lot of the time, and foreign people don't get complicated British spellings, whatwhat.

Forget even the tendency to put everything in inverted commas, giving the whole thing a caustically sarcastic feel (caustic and sarcastic... dunno if it made sense, but those two words just had to be together) - you know, like Mr and Mrs X invite you to the "nikah" of their beloved daughter "Y" "insha Allah".

I can even bring myself to overlook the fact that they are frequently addressed to Mr and Mrs Husband's Full Name, as if the Mrs is just some accessory to her Mr and deserves no identity in her own right, having had the misfortune of being born female and having no redeeming features except the identity of the man she married (because, yes, that's exactly what they meant when they addressed the card).

But come on... 'no boxed gifts please'?!

I understand that it could be annoying to get 46 toasters as a wedding present, or having to make trips to the charity shop to get rid of the junk-I-found-in-the-attic-and-wrapped-up presents that some people might give. I understand that fine. But really, you're not entitled to presents, not even the attic junk. It's a gift, you don't get to demand what form it comes in! Saying you don't want it boxed is saying that you expect presents - which you probably do, it's just not polite to say so. And 'no boxed gifts' is meant to be some euphemism for 'give us some damn money already!', which isn't a very nice thought.

Plus, people can still give you attic junk - they could just stick it in a bag. Not technically a boxed gift anymore, see?! In any case, I don't think the attic-junk types pore over their wedding invites, waiting to see who forgot to write that little message, so they can go 'aha! Get down that 1973 cordless electric kettle with the wiring fault, there's finally someone we can give it to!'.

And if you write it on the card, there's always the risk that your millionaire uncle will read it and sadly shake his head, sighing 'here's another happy couple I can't pass this big ole box of money to... my day will come...'.

It could happen.

Everything you didn't want to know about me...

2008-11-02T23:45:00.003+01:00

Sunday night is half-heartedly-writing-an-essay-due-for-tomorrow night. And avoiding preparing for a tutorial. And probably forgetting a lot of things that I will remember 5 minutes before leaving, thereby making myself late for yet another dreaded Monday morning.

On the upside - here's my 10-Second Interview, conscientiously copy-and-pasted from Facebook. Only the best for you, my loyal blogging companions!

Drumroll please...

Can I get a "woop woop"?
No, they're not for you.

People make fun of my...
Everything :(

What should your biography be titled?
'Tales of Indescribable Genius'

What's the worst that could happen?
rabid feminists

When faced with a problem, I...
run away screaming

What's the most embarassing song in your collection?
Apache - Jump on it

What do you think you'll name your kids?
Joey, Jojo, Junior, and Shabadoo

I wish my cell phone had a...
taser

When was the last time you threw up?
there was this time I puked on the bus, then I got interviewed for ITV's Street Doctor!

Milk chocolate, dark chocolate, or white chocolate?
All of them.

What would you name your pet monkey?
Genevieve

My super power would be...
long distance super-charged tappars

If I were a Disney character, I'd be...
abu the monkey

If you could reprogram yourself, what one trait would you leave out?
Procrastination

Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear. Fuzzy Wuzzy had no...
charmin toilet paper

When I call you, my custom ring tone should be...
don't worry/be happy

When I'm bored, I...
do stupid quizzes [much like this one!]

I like to wear...
my pyjamas under my normal clothes

What's your favorite book?
The one with pages in

What picture do you use as your desktop background?
A montage of the people I stalk

How would you end the Iraq War?
get everyone to have a good old sing song

What's your favorite ice cream topping?
cake

If you discovered a planet, what would you call it?
Pakistan (it's out of this world!)

When I'm elected, the first law I'll pass...
outlaw stupidity

What will your wedding band be made out of?
awesome

Nothing, I repeat, NOTHING, is getting between me and my...
aorta

Ever broken a bone?
not my own...

I'd like to be captain on a manned mission to...
jalander

If you had an extra toe, what would you do with it?
freak people out

If I could control my dreams, I'd dream about...
chocolate

The sitcom about my life would be named...
Hahahahaha! ...No

Look around! What's the closest red object?
A little bunny with a red jumper, awww

Do you sleep on your side, back, or stomach?
All of the above (flab problems)

Who is your hero?
Captain Jack Sparrow, crossed with Prince of Persia and Atticus Finch. With the voice of Gandhi.

I feel at peace when...
asleep M

I feel most powerful when...
behind the wheel of a Nissan Micra

Who do you take after? Mom or Dad?
I think I have my dad's moustache

What was the best advice you ever received?
'the door says push, not pull'

What's the fastest you've ever driven?
20mph (it was on the motorway ok)

What's your favorite type of cuisine?
The one with chocolate and marshmallows.

What would you do for a new car?
Go ask my dad :P

What would you do if you could be invisible?
Stand in elevators and close the doors right when people are running to them.

I once had a really weird dream that...
I was Eminem and I was fixing a roof, but my wife was mad at me because I bought her present in a sale.

What was the first thing you bought when you got your first credit card?
Some good ole fashioned Riba

What's your favorite comfort when you're ill?
My momma :)

How many times a day do you brush your teeth?
Twice! And you should too!

Where is Waldo?
Hanging out with Osama Bin Laden

Beauty or Brains?
Beauty fades, and isn't edible...

If you were a vegetable, what vegetable would you be, and why?
An onion because I'm smelly and make people cry. Wait...

I'd be nothing if it weren't for...
being born.

I'd describe my sense of humor as...
irreverent and stupid like your face.

There's something fishy about...
Nicola Sturgeon. Haha.

We should criminalize...
receptionists.

Though I try to hide it, I'm actually...
quite sensible, really.

What does the tooth fairy do with all those teeth?
She makes jewellery for dentists.

Cake or Pie?
They're actually more delicious combined!

I am totally paranoid about...
Nothing, People really ARE out to get me.

How many hours of sleep do you need?
As many as I can get.

Which of the following describe you? Teenage? Mutant? Ninja? Turtle?
All of the above (hero in a half shell!!)

What's the worst movie you've ever seen?
Anything Bollywood.

What was the worst movie this year?
All of them.

If you didn't have to work, what would you do with your time?
Make daisy chains and learn how to juggle.

I've always wanted...
to eat a full jar of nutella.

In 20 years, I will be...
41. Inshallah.

How many licks does it take to get to the center of a marble?
a millionty [approximately the number of questions I just answered!]

---

Okay, so your challenge (should you choose to accept it) is to pick your favourite five questions, and answer them in the comments. That's right - entertain me! Dance, my monkeys, dance!

Lifelong dreams: Now fully realised!

2008-10-27T18:34:00.005+01:00

Gone are the days when I fretted over wearing a hijab and cycling.

I can now say that I have worn a hijab-helmet combo, and cycled fourteen miles in the torrential rain and wind around the bonny banks of Loch Lomond.

In case you didn't get that, that was FOURTEEN miles. (Google calculator helpfully tells me that's 22.5km, for all you metric-heads). That's pretty much the longest bike ride I've ever done since, oh... ever! The second longest ride I had was probably to school and back, in the blissful days of primary school cycling proficiency tests - which was incidentally the last time I rode a bike too.

This all might sound like I'm gloating, but really, I'm shocked (and only gloating a little bit). The whole time, as I rode merrily along getting wetter and heavier and colder (but also happier), I was fully expecting to end up in a ditch, sobbing for my mother - but alhamdulillah, I got through it! And would thoroughly recommend it... minus the rain though, maybe?

So as I type this, my muscles screaming in agony at the slightest movement (they're not usually used this much, okay?!), I turn my thoughts to my theoretical next cycle trip. For some reason, I feel like that last sentence should be written in old lady cursive script. Whatever. Anyway, if I ever do decide to cycle through a monsoon again, I'd like to do it with nicer gloves.

These maybe? And I'll need a good waterproof jacket...

Perfect! They even have that awesome d3o shock-absorbent stuff that's just so James Bond. Not that I like James Bond, the pouting, adulterating loser. He's just the benchmark for coolness in gadgetry.

Now I just have 3 obstacles to overcome:
1) the lack of funds for these slightly extravagant products
2) the fact that I freaked out and wibbled all over the road whenever anything dangerous like a car, dog, or falling leaf came near me (on second thoughts, wibbled is an unfortunate choice of word in this situation - please don't turn those b's around!)
3) the fact that my mum says khabardar and has threatened various cruel and unusual punishments if I attempt anything stupid like cycling again.

Hmm... I'll work on it!

...Everytime, you are neeeeeaaar!...

2008-10-23T23:24:00.001+01:00

I shall ignore the fact that I have absolutely nothing to say, by telling you this:

My new ambition is to marry a fisherman.

Just so I can sing "Why do birds, suddenly apppppeeeaaar..."
and then go
"it's because you stink of FISH! Go take a shower! And don't tell me we're having damn trout for dinner again!"

And I think that would be amusing.

Back By Popular Demand!*

2008-10-08T00:06:00.002+01:00

*Well... like 3 people reminded me to update this. That's popular, right?!

Salaam! It seems like just yesterday I was wishing everyone Ramadhan Mubarak, and now it's a week (or so) after Eid. I have faith, though, that in some small secluded village somewhere in Timbuktu, half the residents are celebrating Eid today after an acrimonious split with the central mosque that decided to do Eid with Saudi. So to anyone from that village, I can legitimately say: Eid Mubarak. And since we are all brothers and sisters in Islam, are we not, in a way, all celebrating Eid today?

I thought so.

Anyhoo, since I decided to share my Ramadhan goals, I thought I'd also give you a wee update on how successful (or not) I was with them.

---1. Stop Wasting So Much Time---
This actually worked okay. I fell down a few times (which deep down I was expecting). I was prepared for that though - when I tell myself I'm going cold turkey on X, I tend to use X a lot less than if I'd just told myself that I want to cut down on X. That makes perfect sense. Like when you have exams approaching, and you're all like 'I'm aiming for an A! And maybe a distinction!' and then you get a C; but if you'd aimed for a C you'd have failed.

What that boils down to: I was occasionally on Facebook, kept up with the news (but not the baqwas stories) on Reddit, and savagely pruned my Google Reader subscriptions so only the good bits were left (you know who you are!). Yes, I went back to blurking.

---2. Be More Islamic---
This was a lot more successful Alhamdulillah, but mostly due to the well documented Ramadhan high. I want to keep it up throughout the year... please make dua for me!

Now as a bonus, have a couple of nasheeds:

Hands up if they make you cry? They had me in floods, which just... never happens to me.

Ramadhaaaaan, Ramadhaaaaan, Ramadhaaaaan (And Shawaal!)

2008-08-30T22:11:00.002+01:00

I reeeeally hate when a normal word gets stuck in your head as a little tune. 'Ramadhan' is now sung to me constantly by nasal little children, because of this INCREDIBLY catchy song. Not good.

So, with Ramadhan coming up and all, I decided to give myself some pretty simple goals:
1. Stop wasting so much time
2. Be more Islamic

I know that #1 could be counted as part of #2, but since timewasting is a huge problem for me, I had to count it separately. And I know you're meant to be specific in your goals, so for #2, my main things are
a) quit with the backbiting [I think this'll need to be a coordinated campaign with family and friends - from experience it's too tough to go it alone!] and
b) make more of an effort to pray on time.

For #1, though, I need to
a) stop watching so much TV - which is gonna be hard with the new season of Heroes starting :( and
b) [more importantly] not use the internet so addictively. Basically, I'm hoping to go cold turkey on most things: Facebook (especially Facebook graffiti), Reddit, feed readers - and me own blog.

So, Ramadhan mubarak (whenever it starts!). Hope everyone has a productive and successful Ramadhan inshallah - see ya at the other end :)

McPagal x