McPagal

How To Offend a Rishta in Ten Ways

2011-06-21T12:13:00.010+01:00

Sometimes when I'm bored I like to come up with hypothetical scenarios and things I could do in them. One of my favourites is the rishta scenario, mostly because you hear about so many daft aunties behaving in socially unacceptable ways to girls and their families when it comes to looking at marriage potentials. Like asking for a girl's height/waist size/weight before meeting her (I like to think that they're cheapskates and are looking for someone who'll fit into the walima dress they have mouldering away in the attic); or making a disgusted just-smelled-some-unexpected-faecal-matter-right-under-my-nose-oh-God-I-think-it's-in-my-mucha-hairs face when the girl walks in (perhaps to aid in negotiations further down the line - her face was an affront to my retinas, I felt physically nauseous when I saw her - I won't pay more that twenty quid mahr, final offer! Desis are born hagglers after all); or making her walk up and down the room so they can properly assess her physique (and possibly her ability to remain ambulatory without limping, dragging her knuckles across the floor, and/or drooling. Not that there's anything wrong with any of that, people are just so superficial these days).

I understand, though, that single British Muslimah sistahz seem to be suffering somewhat from a drought of decent marriage fodder, and offending the ones that do turn up would be irresponsible, immature and probably quite unIslamic. However, fantasizing elaborate scenarios that will never happen is a known analgesic and aids respiratory function (no it's not and it doesn't, I just like making stuff up) and besides, my daydream about winning 3 gold medals at the Olympics is getting quite old and I needed a new story. So here are a few ways you could be as offensive as possible during a rishta meeting:

1. Mid-conversation, give a polite excuse me, then get up and leave. Ideally through a window.

2. If the aunty (or, in fact, the boy) looks disgusted, play along. Make retching noises and really go for it - make them believe that you're struggling to hold your bile down. [Wo]manfully get yourself under control and say something like 'sorry, I just didn't realise faces could look like that'

3. Alternative to above: 'My eyes! The goggles, they do nothing!'

4. If the aunty asks your measurements, reciprocate. Bring a measuring tape to verify your findings.

5. If the aunty has come to assess you without even bringing the potential along, then lament to her about how hard you have been looking for a decent mother-in-law with a good education, good height and the complexion you desire. Ask her questions about herself. If she mentions her son, turn the conversation back to herself, because it's really the mother-in-law you're looking for, the husband's just a means to an end, right?

6. Talk yourself down - spectacularly. If they ask what you like to do in your spare time, tell them drink and drugs. If they ask what you like to cook, laugh and say that all the beatings you've given your mum have taught her to have food on the table. If they ask about your job, tell them you never actually got a degree and that you just drive your dad's car round all day with the windows down and the music loud. Make sure you deliver all this as sweetly and demurely as possible.

7. If the guy himself is an annoying show off, one-up all his stories. He likes to travel? Well, you've been to all the countries in the world, ever, even the ones that don't have names. Twice. He earns 6 figures? You earn 26. He likes his cars? You own Ferrari. Not a Ferrari, the actual company. He prays 5 times a day? You pray a bazillion and five.

8. If they place a lot of emphasis on looks, place a lot of emphasis on something else, like money. Ask if you can audit their accounts.

9. If (okay, when) the conversation gets boring, tell them you're very sorry but you have to leave urgently for a work thing. Then go outside and play in the back garden. Make sure the room they're in has a good view.

1o. Short and sweet: when the boy walks in, give him a dramatic thumbs down like a roman emperor condemning a gladiator to death.

Hijab Pants

2011-06-21T10:00:00.001+01:00

You know bonnet caps right?

creepy mannequin faces not included

As a hijabi, there's two vital facts I have learned about them:

1) When left lying around, say on the sofa or on your bedside table or in the corner of the living room for no reason at all - anywhere! - they look like a pair of pants.

Yes, the underwear kind of pants. It's a recognised phenomenon. Here's an illustration for the visual learners:

please don't take this literally, it's potentially unhygienic

2) Much like safety pins, hijab hats fall into the category of irritating items that ALWAYS seem to be lying around when unnecessary but disappear off the face of the earth when you're actually looking for them.

Now, combine this with the law of the universe that I like to call McPagal's First Law of Baisteefication, things will always be at their most embarrassing in front of the people that will make you feel most embarrassed about it.

This may take some explanation, so let me provide examples:
-When you have uncontrollable giggles which develop into full-on uncontrollable raucous hyena laughter in a public place, there will be an angry looking bearded brother round the corner who will storm past you disapprovingly;
-When you have spewed on the bus and are trying to disappear off the face of the earth but need to find a toilet to clean yourself up in first, you will be approached by a Street Doctor crew asking if you want to be filmed
-When you've gone crazy in the sales and bought an armload of discounted bras and knickers from Primark, including the silly novelty one that made you laugh so you bought it in a ridiculously huge size because it was only 50p and you thought it'd be funny to give it to your sister as a joke; the only available cashier will be a young Asian male. Possibly one you recognise. And the barcode on the novelty bra won't scan properly so he'll have to awkwardly ask for a price check while you both stare at the floor and pretend like this isn't at all awful and making you want to sink into the ground and disappear.
And so on.

What results is at least 2 potentially horrible scenarios:

-People come to visit when you've not tidied up properly. People you don't know too well but need to make a good impression on for some reason. They see the hijabpants lying dustily in the corner where they have been hiding for the last 2 months, unmoved because you thought you'd lost them, and are disgusted that you'd leave horrible dusty pants around when people come to visit. You fail to make a good impression, and what's more, when you go to pick up the hijabpants when they leave they are nowhere to be seen.

-You are with people you know a little better, friends maybe, and go to put on your hijabpants. Only this time you misjudged and really did pick up a pair of pants. You are now wearing pants on your head.

These scenarios and countless others burn away at the back of the neurotic section of your brain for all time, eventually turning you into a jibbering wreck at the thought of all the untapped baisteefication potential there is in the world, ready to ensnare you when you least expect it, drowning you in a pool of awkwardness. This is what I live with. Who knew hijab hats could be so dangerous?

Things That Make Me Hate You On Facebook - Part 2

2010-11-25T00:30:00.002+01:00

PART 2 - Content! [Also, the part where I pretend there wasn't a 5 month (wait, really?!) gap since Part 1, thereby avoiding having to make up any tediously reasonable excuse for said gap]

Before I list these, I should clarify something you may not have noticed about me: I am a horrible, horrible cynic who likes to privately (like, in my own head privately) mock people's foibles. However I also recognise that I have my own, often extremely irritating foibles myself. I'm perfectly happy for people to point these out, because I have a ready-made excuse (which is, incidentally, the same excuse I have for all my spelling and grammar errors) - I was doing it on purpose. You know, ironically. Ha.

SO!

1. The life story

08.02:'Just woke up, eyelids are having trouble coming unstuck'
08.07:'Getting out of bed was a struggle, finally managed it LOL'
08.14:'Decided to use small circular motions to brush my teeth rather than the old side-to-side, now my gums are bleeding'
08.16:'Dropped my phone down the toilet trying to eiuuhgeneangh ehfoiuhn...s''@##'

You get the picture.

2. The Drama Queen

'Some people need to focus on their OWN selves instead of HATING like HATERZ.'
'Had a great night out with my girls, we don't CARE what people say about us cause they're all HATERSZZ'
'Y'ALL JUST HATE WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND'

Somehow, I find myself not wanting to hate these people because it would be giving them what they want. It's nigh impossible though.

3. The Deep Dark Soul of Mystery

'SIGH'
'Some days you just have to be strong'
'I can't expect anyone to understand'

If anyone makes an attempt to understand, however, e.g. by asking what's up, the Deep Dark Soul of Mystery likes to respond cryptically, maybe with a '...' or a picture of a bucket of their own tears. They're deep like that.

4. The Broken Compass

Friday morning: 'Jumah mubarak my Muslim brethren. Protect yourself from the hellfire. Can't wait for the khutba by Sheikh al-Famous today, it'll be awesome for sure inshallah'
Friday night: 'Whooo had an awesome time gettin high on sheesha and freemixing, and the gambling was awesome too LAWL'

Sadly, the latter update is usually accompanied by photographic evidence, the type that makes you cover your eyes and cringe.

Also included in this category: the people who don't seem to give a toss about Islamic stuff normally, but when it comes to the ins and outs of moon-sighting, or halal food for example, they're tossing out fatwas and hadith like they're smarties. But not the red smarties, because they have cochineal which is from dead beetles and are therefore haraam, for further evidence please refer to yadda yadda yadda...

5. Captain Obvious

[Someone makes a witty remark involving Barack Obama and his similarity to a writing desk]
Comment: HAHA THAT'TH FUNNY CUZTH BARACK OBAMA ITH THE PRETHIDENT AND HE'TH BLACK HURRRR

[It's snowing outside, and has been for the last week]
Status Update: IT'TH THNOWING HURRRRRR

[It's hot outside due to a widely discussed heatwave]
Status Update: IT'TH HOT WHYYY?

[It's Tuesday]
Status Update: IT'TH TUESDAYYYY

Thanks for being so informative, Cap'n.

6. Anyone who dares express themselves in anything but the most cursory written form.

X's Notes: My Poetry

X's Albums: My Artwork

This one is no one's fault but my own. Anyone who likes to post their emo-poems or artwork will face my scorn, albeit never expressed to anybody at all in case they should realise how very mean I can be and block me from their facebook, and my source of future amusement. Their poetry/artwork might not even be altogether vomit-inducing, but in my head the very fact they posted it on facebook makes it ridiculous. Although it usually is vomit-inducing, to be fair.

Tune in next week, to see McPagal step on a kitten and then laugh!*
*Not really.

Things That Make Me Hate You On Facebook - Part I

2010-06-08T23:26:00.000+01:00

I love Facebook. I love that I can keep in touch with family and friends as far away as Switzerland, Morocco, New Zealand, Pakistan, America and even England. I love that you can start a conversation with one person and have it end up as a discussion between people on your friends list that would never have otherwise interacted. I love that you can see what a small world we live in, when your friends overlap in a veritable Venn diagram of unexpected ways.

There is, however, plenty of hate for Facebook out there on the web (should that be in the web? I dunno). Bleeding Mafia Wars and Farmville in particular. I figured I'd join in - all in the spirit of 'love the sinner, hate the sin' of course! If anyone who knows me on Facebook would like to point out irritating things that I'm guilty of myself, please do. So that I can promptly defriend you.

Profile Pictures
-------------------

The thing with Facebook is that the title is pretty self explanatory when it come to profile pictures. Unless you're using a pseudonym and using Facebook for stalkery purposes, it's good to have your face as your picture. Look, the placeholder is even a silhouette of a head-and-shoulders portrait, how helpful! I suppose there are those who have so many random people as friends that they feel shy about showing their faces, but then the question arises - why add so many randoms? Ok, you want to network, blah blah whatever. Stop fighting my argument with REASON.

Apart from a lack of faceness, here are the worst crimes in my subjectively objective eyes - most of them perpetrated by the female facebook population because, hey, I'm not going to ogle GUY pictures, that'd be wrong (even for research purposes) plus I have no witty observations to make on guy-pictures anyway...:

THE FACETHIEF
This neanderthal uses someone else's face as their profile picture. Usually someone famouser/prettier, for example Aishwarya Rai instead of their 75 year old, nicotine stained, toothless, morbidly obese self. This is especially irritating when perpetrated by a hijabi/niqabi - it's not ok to show yourself with your hair/face uncovered, but it's ok to show someone else's? That's like wearing a wig over your hijab! And that would just be ridiculous!

THE ALL SEEING EYE
This is when you take a close-up picture of your eye (or to make it a double whammy, take a close-up picture of someone else's, more photogenic and artfully made-up eye that you found on Google images - in a bold, ALL-SEEING EYE THIEF move) and use it as your profile picture. Yes, eyes are pretty, and said to be the window to the soul etc etc. But this makes me think that you:
a) are very vain and want everyone to notice/comment on you having pretty eyes, in common with 99% of the world's population
b) somehow think that showing off your beguiling eyes is somehow more 'halal' than showing your face, despite making sure that your eye is well adorned with heavy eyeliner, mascara and bold eyeshadow - like one of those Caged Oppressed Muslim Woman In Desert Country novel covers; or
c) are a one-eyed mutant freak.

THE WHITEOUT
This is when you combine a desi girl with a good, strong camera flash to give her that goree-chitti, face-dipped-in-atta appearance. Typically this picture will have a long trail of comments on it saying how gorgeous the person looks (for once, you know...) despite the fact that the flash frequently comes with the side-effect of making the subject's nose disappear into whiteness. THE WHITEOUT may be combined with:

THE STANDARD POSE
Do. Not. Show. Your. Teeth.
Also, tilt your head to the side, look up through your eyelashes, and lift your camera high, and MySpace-pose it. The only difference from the dictionary definition is that as a desi girl who is not emo, you may smile, but should remember not to show any teeth (that would be soooo laaaame) and should use as much poutage as possible. You may also comine this with:

DAFFY DUCK incidentally, way cooler that Donald
Pout!! Pout like you're trying to touch the ceiling!! Why not add a touch of:

TOILET CLEANERS
Here's a tip: whenever you go out anywhere, like a nice restaurant or hotel or other wedding venue - don't bother taking pictures anywhere, you know, scenic. Instead, make your way to the toilets with a couple of your best pals and hold an hour-long photoshoot. That way, people can see your picture reflected in the mirror, with a beautiful panorama of washbasins and toilet cubicles behind you. You should make this your profile picture because then everyone can see that you're the adventurous sort who stays inside posing in public toilets.
Just remember to wash your hands when you're done.

THE CONFUSED
So, you're a hijabi/niqabi and you feel like you're missing out on some fun? Just use all the tips above, and don't bother with the hijab. It doesn't matter, it's just a picture you're putting out there for the world to see, and you're still wearing it in person so that's ok, right? Right?

to be continued...

I think the Good takes it

2010-04-06T14:20:00.002+01:00

Bad news: I can't believe how long I have neglected you for, little bloggy.

Good news: Well, I remembered you now, didn't I??

Bad news: I have nothing of substance to post right now.

Good news: I have ideas! Those count, right?

Bad news: I've never been too good at the actual execution of said ideas. (For reference, see my to do lists at the beginning of, oh, every single year).

Bad news: I have to find a job and study for exams right now.

Good news: I'm always at my most blogsome when I'm meant to be doing something else, like searching for a job or studying for exams!

Bad news: this has never helped me achieve said goals.

Good news: I don't care too much about goals, life's for living, right? Not achieving! Only losers ever achieve in life. Losers who spend their time studying and, pffft, junk like that. And then go on to get successful jobs and make lots and lots of money.

Good news: I don't care too much about money, either. I'll be fine as long as I have a roof over my head and a belly full of chocolate!

Bad news: You need money to buy chocolate.

Good news: This stupid stream-of-consciousness post has inspired me to begin my jobsearching efforts anew and with a neverbeforeseen vigour! Right after lunch, anyhow.

Good news: It's lunchtime! And I have roast chicken and chocolate cake calling my name!

Good news: No seriously, calling with little squeaky chickeny voices.

Bye!

McPagal for President of the Universe

2009-11-16T19:17:00.001+01:00

Despite completely neglecting my poor blog recently - my pencils sure are dusty - I somehow got nominated for a brass crescent award! Paraphrased quote from my sister: "Wow, Golden Crescent! Wait, brass? Eh whit man!". This was the same sister that originally nicknamed me McPagal, so she's pretty much a genius in my book.

Anyway, being the honest soul that I am, I didn't vote for myself - but I won't object if, y'know, anyone else does...

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

Is this a rant about rants?

2008-08-15T20:33:00.004+01:00

Things I frequently rant about:

--- Bad Drivers ---

Get off the road, maniacs! Double parking = not acceptable. Indicators are for the greater good. Driving your car into the backseat of mine will not make me go any faster.

--- Stupid Ass Huge Cars ---

Mainly because they are driven by the above. Also because they are ugly and unnecessary, and make me feel unsafe in my little Polo. And because they are almost always parked stupidly. And because one time I got trapped in the petrol station when this huge Escalade thing [who the heck buys an Escalade in the UK? I thought they were marketed purely to overweight, sweaty Americans?] came up beside me, and because of the car's obesity, I couldn't open my door. So the big dafty driver started swearing at me to move, because he couldn't get out either! Moron.

--- Bad Women Drivers ---

Sorry to continue the motoring thread - but ladies, you are letting the side down! Parallel parking is NOT hard.

--- Stupid Women ---

For some reason, more annoying than stupid men.

--- Guys Who Love Talking About Themselves ---

I have only known one woman like this, so I have decided to generalise. There's a type of guy who likes to come up to people randomly and start a conversation, just so they can tell you every mundane detail of their life you didn't want to know. It's very hard to get rid of them. I have tried changing the subject, leaving, looking very obviously bored, kicking them in the shins and running away [the last one was only wishful thinking], but at best they leave, only to continue the conversation later.

--- Receptionists ---

I really, really hate them. Once, I met a nice receptionist. It was a memorable day. All the others I have ever had the bad luck to encouter have been mean old nicotine-stained hags, who live only to ignore phone calls, be rude to clients, and file their nails. Oh, and make sickly sweet personal calls on the business line ("Oh darling, I love you too!... Yeah, I'm at work. There's a big queue at the desk, hang on- Whit is it?! Can I help you?! - ...there, that's them gone").

The first person I ever dealt with at University was an old crone at a desk, who I was asking about registering for Open Day. First, she made me repeat myself a few times. Then, she laughed at me for a while. After that, she went into the back room to meet the rest of her coven so she could tell them all about the crazy Asian girl at the desk, asking a simple question. Finally she told me she couldn't help. I didn't poke her in the eye or anything - a fact I am proud of to this day.

--- P.E. Teachers ---

What's the point in them? Oh, I know. They exist just to make the unsporty kids feel horrible about themselves, while they fawn over the popular, sporty ones to retain their lost sense of youth. The ones who are good at this jobs like to make up little ploys to further their evil, like making everyone do a fitness test [aka the *bleep*ing bleep test] and posting the results in a big table. This allows schoolkids to point and laugh at the people at the bottom of the table, especially the Muslim girl who only ran 2 lengths then walked out in a huff because the boys were all watching the girls instead of staying in the locker room like the girls had to when the boys were running it and she refused to do it only she was forced to by threat of suspension and also afterwards when she complained to the head teacher the PE teacher started doing impressions of her and I really hate PE teachers :(.

--- Alternative Medicine ---

Herbal remedies and whatnot - okay. But weird stuff that has no basis, and no evidence to say it works? Load of rubbish. And they want it to be provided on the NHS?! Pants!

--- Stupid Desi Culture: Sexism ---
"Oh my word, did you hear about X? That girl is running wild! She goes out to school every day! And she's even planning to go to university!"
"Isn't her brother that drugdealing gangster that held up a nightclub last week?"
"Aww, boys will be boys!"

--- Stupid Desi Culture: Racism ---

I already had a rant about this here. You'd think that'd get it out of my system - but clearly it didn't. What bugs me most is desi's who cry racism every time they fail an exam, bomb at interview or get pulled over for speeding, but are all darky-hating themselves. Or call all Black people 'Jameekay'. Or all Chinese/Japanese/Korean people 'chinkys'.

--- Stupid Desi Culture: Marriage ---

Why should the boy's parents (mostly the mum) check out the girl, her family, her house, and probably when no-one's looking, her personal stuff - before the girl even meets the boy? Why should they have to meet at her house anyway - if the parents want to meet first, can't it be somewhere neutral? Why is it that the boy's parents are given the power to say 'yes' or 'no' after a first meeting, and the girl's parents usually defer to them, and get all twitchy while they wait in the meantime? Why is the girl expected to stay with her in-laws after marriage, even if they're perfectly well and healthy? Why the heck should a girl be made to feel like she is no longer a part of her own parent's family, but belongs to her in-laws? And really, why should she take his name, and be referred to on wedding invitations and stuff as "Mrs Her-Husband's-Full-Name"?

Oh, and those people that think it's cute when a guy goes to check out a rishta and asks for the younger model instead. Siiiiiiiick!

--- Shisha ---

It's bad for you. It stinks. It's associated with drugs. It's got a seedy culture. Ew.

--- Dieters ---

I can't be bothered hearing about how healthily they're eating and how much exercise they do. I don't want to know how unhealthy my food is before I scarf it down. If you're losing weight - good for you! Just don't tell me every detail.

--- Celebrity Culture ---

They're all nobodies! The papers make stuff up about them, and it distracts from the real news! LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE!

--- Photoshopped Honeys ---

Magazines and adverts and films and everything give the impression that people can have flawless, perfect, and often anatomically incorrect features. And the people that look at said media and aspire to it. It's not real, guys! Didn't you see the Dove evolution ad?! I guess sometimes it takes seeing when it goes all wrong to realise that it's just fakery.

Oh also, there's that DFS advert that always gets that awful Nickelback Rockstar song stuck in my head - they were too cheap to get people to dance around in front of real sofas (like, you know, the ones they sell) so they stuck them all on afterwards. For some reason, it's really irritating.

--- Holidays ---

NOT LONG ENOUGH.

***

It seems I rant rather a lot. Maybe... perhaps... I need to chill out? Ramadhan's coming up, I'll give it a try!

(Also, thanks to the 7 people who answered my 'do you like polls' poll with yes. You all rock.)

Lifelong dreams: about to be realised

2008-07-27T13:56:00.002+01:00

So, there's this d3o stuff you can put in fabric, so it hardens on impact (like if you punch a bowlful of cornflour+water). Apparently you can but the beanie hats - but I wonder, have they thought of putting it in hijabs yet? It would mean I could finally (finally!) realise my dreams of becoming the world's first hijabi breakdancer. Or even cycle around without having a dodgy hijab+helmet combo!

As a side note, I don't actually cycle anywhere, though I'd love to. My biggest fears would be a)getting knocked down by an inattentive driver and b)looking like a fool. Are there any hijabi cyclists around?

Post 101. (I thought that was cool)

2008-07-18T19:33:00.004+01:00

I don't know what it is but I've got myself totally addicted to Disney songs recently. It's probably the wonders of the internet - back in the day you'd have to go out and buy a video or something to watch scenes again, now you just stick 'lion king' or whatever in youtube and voila! Instant, cheesy entertainment. And then if you're really slick you can download it and be the king of cartoons. Yeah.

It has to be the oldies though - none of that 3D animation garbage. I mean, it's watchable but not captivating and wonderful and memorable and so on - I mean, compare the magic carpet ride in Aladdin to.. I dunno... something in Toy Story. See? It was so soul-less I can't even remember it. Children these days are deprived of the magic of a good movie! Must be why they're all such wee brats, eh?

But then, in one of those moments when you're thinking deeply about something for no reason at all ('cept maybe boredom - it's holidays after all!), I started role-reversing Disney movies for funsies. Let's see...

Jasmine, a plucky street-urchin, accidentally meets Prince Aladdin, the sultan's gorgeous son who is bored of palace life and has taken to roaming the streets in disguise for giggles. Jasmine gets arrested for annoying the Prince but escapes and with the help of an evil old man (woman?) steals a magic lamp from the Cave of Wonders. Aided by the Genie within, she pretends to be a Princess of a far away land to secure the hand of the handsome Prince, and they fall in love and live happily ever after, but not before defeating evil Madhur Jafferi (I needed a name okay!), the Sultan's advisor who tried marrying the prince at some point.

Meh.

This one's better:

A beautiful French man is imprisoned in the castle of a hideous beast, a princess cursed to look like a big hairy hag until she loves to love and be loved, before the last petal of some enchanted rose falls. Our hero falls for the hag, despite her beastly form, and the beast is transformed back into a human again.

Heh. I suppose Shrek sort of did that story line - but nobody fell in love with the princess when she actually looked like an ogre, and she liked Shrek despite his looks. Obviously it's okay for a guy to look like a freaky animal and still get the hot girl, but nobody likes ugly girls. Sorry!

Or how about reversing the traditional Bollywood storyline:
Boy meets Girl
Mutual dislike ensues
Girl realises she actually likes Boy
Girl chases Boy around, singing cheesy songs and dancing in public, until Boy decided to like Girl back and they both dance around together
Random wet sari scene for no reason (use rain/fountains/swimming pool/malfunctioning sprinkler system for effect).

Turns out it's not romantic when a girl chases her love, it's just creepy and desperate! Although I've always thought that if any sensible girl had Shah Rukh Khan chasing after her and singing, she'd have him arrested for stalkerism instead of joining in...

There's a lot to be said for...

2008-07-08T20:18:00.002+01:00

...Anonymity.

In the blogoworld, that is. For one thing, there's no risk of future potential employers googling your name to find a website full of your brain-spew, and burning your CV (and maybe even sticking the ashes in the shredder, for effect). That's probably the main reason I don't stick my name up here - nobody likes burnt CV's! (Which reminds me - in a strange way - where has my header gone? I can't see it! It's quite upsetting).

There was also an incident at uni where a staff member was searching for their name (obviously working hard) and came across a student's MySpace page wherein another student may have referred to them in passing by a derogatory name for a female dog, in a jestful manner, and the students involved ended up explaining themselves to the dean, which doesn't sound at all fun. Nope.

But the other, rather important reason, is-- oh wait. I forgot the whole identity theft thing. It's probably mostly paranoia but I wouldn't like to risk it. I don't know that an identity-thief (?) would have a lot to go on with just a name, and what I'd have that's worth thieving, but you can't be too careful eh!

But the other other reason, is that I wouldn't like anyone I know to stumble across this, then realise I'd talked about them in a derogatory fashion, and stick me in a shredder or set fire to me or anything. Nobody likes shredded limbs. I mean, I don't think of myself as a backbiter or anything, it's just nice not to have to worry that what you've typed in a moment of boredom hasn't mortally offended anyone - anyone you know anyway; the rest don't matter.

However! Through random acts and instances (and dare I say, happenings), half my family now knows that I am McPagal and McPagal am I. If you're Pakistani, you'll know that 'half my family' is substantial amount of people. Which I find cringingly embarrassing of course, but stuff like that happens. And it's not like they eagerly read every entry or anything... is it?!

It does mean that I have to watch myself more - I can't say stuff like 'I had to go to the most booooooring wedding today!' because the family might be reading, and feel differently, and shredding may ensue. That's a for instance - I always find family weddings fantastic, amazing, and perfect of course. Yep. There's also the issue of having someone I know realise it's me, and thinking 'Ew... I didn't need to know that! TMI!'. Lessons: stop giving TMI and don't talk about people without changing a great many details first...

However! (Mark II). I do wield some small power. If I was to say something like 'I love my cousins but there's one that has awful breath!' (for example), any cousin reading could worry that they were the one being referred to, and they would all brush their teeth more often, and I'd have scored the dental profession extra points - as is my wont. Ahem.

Not that any of my cousins do have bad breath. Except that one...

On my mind

2008-06-30T16:48:00.002+01:00

ANNOUNCEMENT

For everybody that does not know this already:

-The country is called SRI LANKA. Like 'Sree', not, 'Sirry'.
-Parliament is in WESTMINSTER. There is only one i in minster - it's not 'minister'!
-The word is POLICE. Not 'pleece'. Po-lice. That one was specifically for a lady on a radio ad who annoys me. Even the proper Glaswegian polis ('pole-iss') would be better!

---

Speaking of radio... the people who run Sunny Govan Radio should be sued for their horribly misleading name. Have they ever been to Govan? How can you say 'Welcome tae Sunny Govan' with a straight face? It's a steaming hole of a place. Even if it was sunny, it would just smell rancid.

Not that I'm a snob or anything.

---

Entrepeneurs of the world! I have a proposition. You can have all the rights to my new invention, as long as you send me one free as soon as it's made.

My new invention would banish those insane moments where you think 'I can't find my car keys - I know, I'll just ctrl-F it!'. Because I'm assured that everybody has those moments.

But you know how you can phone your phone when it's lost, then follow the sounds, and find it marco-polo style? So what my invention is, is this:
Some crazy little microchip things (bear with me here) that you can attach to stuff, but then! You can program them! And somehow they'd be able to connect to your mobile phone! All you'd have to do was save their entry under 'car keys', 'wallet', 'favourite red socks', 'brain' and whatever else, and then if you lost them you could phone them, and find them, and all would be right with the world.

So as I said - send me one as soon as it's made. I will reward you handsomely!*
*by sending you a picture of Thierry Henry or something. Maybe.

My Day in Haiku

2008-06-20T22:54:00.004+01:00

Diarrhoea bird
Why do you poop on my car
And not on the ground?

---

Crazy hijab day
My head is too slippery
Should have worn a hat

---

Michael Jackson songs
Why do singers cover them
In a rock band style?

---

Crunch slurp cough chew munch
Audible mastication
It makes me really sad :(

---

Time to stop whinging
Cause I passed all my exams!
And now I get a Wii :)

I feel like the last one should have an 'alhamdulillah' and an 'inshallah!' in there somewhere - but I couldn't get it to fit!

More Memes

2008-06-12T22:06:00.002+01:00

As a 1930s wife, I am
Very Poor (Failure)

Take the test!

Great, first I fail my own marriagability test, now I fail at being a 1930's housewife? Ach, probably a good thing ;)

2008-06-11T23:54:00.005+01:00

Hola amigos! [The only Spanish I know is from watching Speedy Gonzales as a kid, hopefully I just said 'hi guys!' and not 'you all smell like cow dung', or something. That's what usually happens when I try speaking a language I'm not fluent in - it's amazing how easy it is to accidentally swear in Punjabi!]

Exams are past and hopefully passed (if they aren't, I blame YOU) - so maybe I should get back into the swing of this whole blogging thing before it goes out of fashion, eh? We all know how McPagal's like to stay in fashion.

I've currently undertaken the task of clearing out a bunch of old photo albums (honestly at least 30 albums, not including the boxes of random unsorted photos), so what better way to avoid-*cough* pay tribute to it that to steal Organica's photo mosaic meme? There is none, I'm serious.

Here be tha rules:

Rules:
a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
b. Using only the first page, pick an image.
c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd’s mosaic maker.
1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One Word to describe you.
12. Your flickr name.

And here be tha result!
Credits:
[1](I don't really want to blurt out my name, so I'll just link you to the photographer, eh?) [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] (McPagal only had 1 result, so I went with McCrazy, haha

Give it a try, estiércol de la vacas!

Why do you wear that?

2008-05-26T19:07:00.004+01:00

True story: when I was younger, I was astounded to learn there were Muslims in other countries. To clarify, in case I seem especially dense, I was like 8 or something. It's not that I thought that Scotland was the only countries that Muslims existed in - I just never imagined them living anywhere else (unless you count Pakistan or Saudi Arabia, since I'd been there and seen em). The first time I heard someone saying 'Asalaamu Alaikum' with an American or French or German accent, I cracked up - it just seemed so weird.

Not exactly linked, but: I recently learned something else I never knew, simply because of never thinking of it. There are non-Muslims who wear hijab. That blows my mind. There are non-Muslim women out there who routinely wear hijab, out of choice? It's not that I thought it was impossible, but I just never thought of the possibility!

I guess I shouldn't really be surprised though... Muslim women are always going on about their reasons for wearing hijab, and a lot of those reasons would appeal to non-Muslim women as well, especially if they're sick of being objectified and judged purely on appearance straight off the bat. Thing is, the reasons the girl gives in the video are similar to what I'd tell girls at school when they'd ask why I wore hijab -I'd mostly tell them about the benefits I'd found, not the actual reason, other than when I'd start off with 'well, it's part of my religion..'.

I thought all Muslim women had the same core reason I did, that hijab is part of ibadah - you wear it to please Allah. I suppose I should have learnt already that I shouldn't assume things, since I'm almost uniformly wrong.

Shortly after starting university, I had a hijabi Muslim girl ask me when I started wearing hijab, and why. I told her I started when I started high school, since it seemed like a good milestone. 'But, do you know why you wear hijab?', she asked. Uhh... because Islamically, you're meant to? But she kept asking 'do you know why?'. Well, modesty and so on.. and to cover your adornment... but mostly to please Allah... She let me keep talking til I trailed off, then let me know I was wrong. She told me that Islamically, women should not be seen, and that niqab was the gold standard [I don't debate this - I've learnt that debating hijably criteria is not a good path to go down, with anyone].

'The reason we wear hijab, is because it's a small sin to show your face, but it would be a big sin not to cover your hair at all'. She then proceeded to tell me all the punishments that would be brought upon the women who don't wear hijab. And how a woman in a Pakistani village, who used to dress immodestly and wear makeup and everthing, was heard crying in her grave, and when the villagers eventually dug her up, she dashed into her house and locked herself in. When the villagers tried to talk to her, she refused to see them because she was too ashamed. Eventually, she let someone in, and she was completely disfigured - she had been scalped, because she used to show off her hair. Her lips had been ripped off, because she wore lipstick. Her nails were torn out because she wore nail polish. [And so on, you get the point]. Apparently, she had been raised from the dead as a message for all Muslim women - if you don't hijab up, this is what'll happen. All this was narrated to her on a recording of a maulvi giving a lecture on hijab. 'When I heard that, I just started wearing hijab that minute', my friend told me. Well, the story, however factual, had resulted in something good in the end. Who am I to argue?

I got to thinking.. is it right to do something purely to avoid punishment? And is it any of my business?

I love Uniball!

2008-05-17T12:29:00.004+01:00

Remember when I told you all about the fantastic new pen I got? Well... probably not, you'd have to be kind of sad to remember that.

But anyway, I did! Me and my Clipturn had some fantastic times together, writing up notes, not having to get out a different writing implement to switch between charting teeth in pencil and writing patient histories in pen.. and even charting gingivitis in red! My friends were in awe of my stationery superiority, and even my clinicians looked on admiringly as I flicked between ink and graphite with such grace. My 0.7mm writing looked so elegant, with the ink gliding along like a dream. Oh, it was bliss.

But then... tragedy struck. The black ink ran out - I could hardly believe it. So I took myself along to WHSmith to get refills - but to add salt to my wounds, they had NONE. That's right, the dons of stationery didn't stock them! And then -then! I tried turning the pen to black ink for old times sake -and the mechanism stuck. With disbelief, I investigated further - but the pen was unquestionably, unfairly, broken. Not even chocolate or kittens could console me. Not even chocolate kittens.

With a heavy heart, I researched the internets for help. I decided to contact the company directly - surely the manufacturers of this fine piece of engineering would help their biggest fan? Said I (via their 'contact us' form):

Enquiry: Would I be able to get a replacement and some refills for a Clipturn pen? This really was my favourite pen, but the mechanism broke within 2 months.

Just over a week later, I receieved a reply!

Dear [McPagal]
Thank you for your enquiry.

Both the Clipturn and it’s refills can be purchased online at: http://www.cultpens.com/acatalog/Uni

I hope this information is of use to you; if you have any further queries please do not hesitate to contact us again.
Many Thanks,
[Nice Lady]
Customer Services Administrator

Hmmm... this wasn't exactly what I wanted. I didn't think they understood the depths of my predicament!

Dear [Nice Lady],

Thank you for the info! I was actually wondering if Uniball could repair or replace the pen for me as I spent £8 on it only for it to break. It was extremely useful to me while it lasted, as a dental student I have to switch between ink & pencil a lot to write patient notes, and the red ink is excellent for certain types of charting. I recommended it to all my friends, and a lot of colleagues and staff were also very interested!

Thanks again,
[McPagal]

Then, I forgot about it. At this point I was getting by on cheap biros with inferior ink, lamenting what once was.

That was, until about 20 minutes ago when the post arrived.
'McPagal!' Shouted my mum (well, she didn't actually call me McPagal. My parents call me pagali sometimes, but not as a form of address), 'There's an interesting looking package for you!'.
'Meh, probably my contact lenses' I replied. But the package she handed to me wasn't a little brown box. Nor was it the squishy plastic of the t-shirts I ordered. I was, in fact, a jiffy bag with a label hand addressed to me - with a Uniball logo at the top!

Excited, I tore open the envelope, desperately hoping it wasn't a catalogue or some other anti-climax. And it wasn't.

Inside was none other than a Clipturn multifunction pen, a beautiful replacement of it's poor lamented brother. I could hardly believe my eyes, but as I ran around the room holding the pen aloft and shrieking, I noticed something else - refills! Yes, they'd even included extra ink, of both colours, inside! My happiness now complete, I checked the inside of the envelope to find a lovely handwritten note from Nice Lady herself:

I am not ashamed to admit that I nearly wept with joy.

After firing off an ecstatic 'thank you!', I decided to share the love with all of you. Everyone - buy Uniball products! They're amazing pens for amazing people!

Now I'm going, to spend some quality time with my new pen.

Just brushing off the dust...

2008-05-06T22:48:00.003+01:00

Jeez, I really have neglected this place. I thought I should check in just to confirm I'm still alive. I don't really have a lot to say for myself these days.. so what's up?

High points of the last few weeks:
-Getting my new car and playing with all the buttons
-Travelling through torrential rain, thunder, lightening and hailstones (honestly!) to get to Free Cone Day at Ben and Jerry's. Well worth it!
-Eating ice lollies in the baking sun (Scottish weather really is crazy)
-Eating jelly beans and breaking my braces
-Making a little superhero man out of wax in my most hated class (he was called denture man and saved dental students from boredom dontcherknow)
-Any other incidents involving excessive consumption of sugar

Anyway, as usual at this time of year, I started thinking of all the things I can look forward to after exams are done. Then I remembered that I actually made a list last year... hmm. I only managed 2 out of 10 items - washing my car and watching a movie. Not really what I'd call a great success rate. So maybe this time I'll try being more realistic, let's see:

Things I plan to do after exams (mark II)
1. Go horseriding
2. Go to an adventure park
3. Make brownies
4. Throw a party
5. Take up painting
6. Learn to double dutch (yeah, that one's a repeat)
7. Learn to juggle (okay, so's that)
8. Secret blogging plan

That's it. I bet you're really curious about #8, huh? Well.. I suck at keeping secrets. I'm planning to make more cartoony things, like this one from back last year... I just need to get round to it really. I have some roughed out, I might even get them up here sometime.. in the future.. maybe? We'll see*.

*That's what my dad says when he has no intention of doing something. I think it's a good trick.

Always tip your chauffeur

2008-04-19T23:40:00.003+01:00

So, a lot of people end up using my city-wide chauffeur service. Not that I mind (I still love driving!), but I though I should put together a handy little guide to ensure a smooth journey. Not that they'll ever see this, making it a completely pointless exercise - but when did I ever claim to be logical? Never, that's when.

Ettiquettes for McPagal's Passengers

1. If you are so privileged as to be allowed into my car, you should make sure to wipe your feet before entering. Yeah, I know there's mats on the floor, but I'd prefer not to scrape mud off them, okay?
Hey, wait.. that was on the driver's side. Never mind, my bad!

2. See your rubbish? In the bin please. You know, that smelly metal box thing that sits at the side of the pavement-- no I'm not describing my car! Hmph.

3. Mints and sweets are provided in the glovebox for your refreshment. But not if you finished them all last time.

4. And don't throw the wrappers on the floor! See point #2.

5. If you are one of a group of people getting a lift, it is approved custom to shout shotgun and make a dash for the car door. However, please bear in mind that it's a 3-door car - i.e. when you get there first, you then have to wait til everyone else hops in back before you get to sit upon the coveted front seat (coveted because of its close proximity to the fabulous driver, of course).

6. Yes you can all fit. Don't question my judgement! I've had 12 hijabis in here before, just breathe in...

7. Never. Ever. Ever. Criticize my driving. Unless you're in actual danger of your life, it's not advisable to make comments like 'erm, are you sure you're using your indicators?', or 'how did you pass your test?'. Especially if I don't particularly like you in the first place, and you can't even drive yourself. I will harbour a resentment against you forever for comments like that, and you'll probably never know why. Until I get that ejector-seat installed and can take more affirmative action of course...

8. Exceptions are made to #7 for my parents and other senior relatives. Yes mum, I shouldn't have gone through amber, I'm sorry! Please stop pulling my ear!

9. Your journey may take longer than expected as I take an interesting detour and eventually get back on track. Please do not complain or offer directions, I'm totally doing this on purpose and giving you a chance to enjoy the scenery.

10. I'm happy to drive you wherever you need to go - within reason. See, you live on the other side of the city, and right now I'm five minutes from home. Dropping you off would be a 2 hour detour for me, and that's just-- ach, fine. But you get to call my parents and tell them why I'm coming home late, then!

11. Insulting my car is strictly forbidden. He (yes he, not it) is the one getting us where we need to go, so show some gratitude please! He'd also appreciate a scratch behind the rearview-mirrors from time to time, or a tickle under the front grill. Coochy coochy cooo... who's a clever little puppy? Yesh you are! Yesh you-- ahem. Excuse me.

---

Where was I? Oh yes... finishing this post without leading anywhere. I guess car-shopping to replace my beloved Mikey (the Micra) has made me realise how much I love him... not that I won't ditch him like a shot for something more flashy with luxuries like 5 doors and central locking. He'll always have a special place in my heart though - first car, first love. *sigh*

Now when do I get my new baby?

Argh!

2008-03-29T01:21:00.001+01:00

A woman in the library just carried a desk lamp in and started studying. Seriously!

I feel so under prepared. Next time I'm bringing a mini-fridge, and maybe a pillow.

Also: PANTOPHOBIA is not a fear of pants. Well, it could be. It's a fear of everything - I don't know if underwear is included.

The P Word

2008-03-11T21:42:00.003+01:00

Two fat ned type guys are talking really loudly on the bus, a couple of seats behind me. I decided they were both called Jimmy

JIMMY I: Ayyyye, there's no proper off-licences any more!

JIMMY II: Ah know! It's all they wee paki shops, and...

MCPAGAL: *glances back at them*

THE JIMMYS: *embarrassed silence*

JIMMY II: I meant to say there, Asian shops! Eh... strange weather we've been having. Wouldja look at that.

MCPAGAL: *sniggering*

Both Jimmys left soon after. I could hear them on their way out talking about how they totally stuck their foot in it with the whole Paki thing. And all was well.

EDIT
I seem to have lost my mojo. If anyone finds it, please return it by post (first class) to PO Box 25, London W12 6BP. I think that's the Blue Peter address but they'll probably forward it on.

Thank you.

Tangent

2008-02-27T00:43:00.002+01:00

I get confused by non-mahrams. The word, not the people. I always get the word confused and think non-mahram=non-hijab, when it's obviously the other way round (again, the word, not in practise!).

Actually, isn't 'mahram' a bit weird anyway? People say things like 'you have to travel with a mahram' and include a woman's husband in there, when really he's not mahram since the woman married him in the first place. Unless I got it wrong and mahram doesn't mean 'someone who it's haram to marry'.

Mahram mahram mahram. The word has lost all meaning now anyway.

Hmmmm. What else can I spend time thinking about, now that there are only 48 hours to submit an essay I've not even started...

Uncontrollable giggles strike again!

2008-02-18T19:53:00.002+01:00

Has a wee moment in xray today: we'd done the first side of this patient's mouth and when I moved onto the second and began to put the film in, he started to laugh a little bit and I had to wait. He apologised and laughed again, then I found it really funny I was standing there trying to get this thing in his mouth with him laughing away, and I started giggling too. It took like 5 minutes for us both to stop, when the tutor walked in and asked what was so funny and set us off again.

Then I had to tell her I didn't rightly know... :/

Fed Up

2008-02-07T22:26:00.000+01:00

People who are studying: ever get to a point where you can't celebrate finishing the latest exam or assignment or whatever, because all you can see ahead of you are more deadlines? Holidays will come eventually, but after that there's more studying and more tests. And then maybe you graduate, but you'll still have work deadlines and assessments. All through your life. And then you die.

It's not just academically. Whatever else you're involved in, it's just a project. And after all the bickering over little details, it'll be over. And the next one will begin. And so on...

I feel low.

StationERy, like papER. That's how I remember it.

2008-01-07T21:48:00.000+01:00

I don't know why, but whenever I attempt a shopping spree, I end up with more stationery than anything else. Last time I bought a sketchpad, just because it was all square and chunky and had delicious paper. This time it was a combined pen/pencil hoobjoob. I don't know if it's just me, but it made me drool... Yes, I'm sad. But it was a nice distraction from the trauma of shoe shopping.

---

I also went on a bit of a Khaled Hosseini binge this week. The Kiterunner was a stunning film, and stayed pretty true to the book (except by leaving out Hassan's cleft lip, Ali's disability, and any detail of Hassan's mother). I don't know if it was less emotional or if I was just better prepared - nonetheless (hehe, I love using that word in essays), even I, nicknamed 'heart of stone', ended up weepy at some parts.

Oh, and I needed to give Hassan a hug SO BAD.

So after that, I was itching to go home and read the book over again. Instead I picked up 'A Thousand Splendid Suns', pretty much finished it off in one day. But... I didn't like it. Sometimes you end up really disliking characters you feel you're meant to like, and this was one of those times. Actually, at the beginning, all the characters had more substance, but towards the end, they seemed like charicatures instead. Mariam was the battered wife, Rasheed the abusive husband (that's not a spoiler - any book dealing with women in Muslim countries has to have an abusive husband. It's law or something), and Laila was the beautiful spunky girl. Actually, Laila was the biggest thing I disliked about this book. Yeah sure, she has this amazing friendship with Mariam and helps her realise she's in control of her fate and blah, but she's so annoying. And sheesh, she needs some morals bad.

Speaking of books I should have liked but didn't:

I wanted to like it, I tried really hard. But in the end, I just couldn't. I don't know why. Probably the over-enthusiastic tone of writing, or the less-than-convincing arguments (I mean, I'm a Muslim but I could have poked holes in stuff she was saying). Oh-and is advocating giving birth on a your bathroom floor really coming from an Islamic perspective, or just a personal preference? I a young hijaban/niqaban being interested in fashion and maybe perhaps a degree really so 'wow, gee whiz!'. And for some reason, it irritated me that I felt like the book was a drawn out interview the author had had with a few of her friends.

I think if any skeptical non-Muslim read it, they would be unsatisfied. That said, for it would be good to recommend to neutral/open-minded type people. And I have to say, I love convert-stories. That's what I found inspirational about this book. The rest I'll put down to me being fickle.

Salam, My Name Is...

2008-01-02T22:19:00.000+01:00

Look, my name is not that hard to pronounce. It really isn't. Are you even TRYING to read it? Where in the name Obaida Abdul-rahim do you see an x? Or a z? Or some combination of letters that cause you to almost choke trying to make a 'khhhhhhhhhh' sound? OR THE FRIGGIN' INTEGRAL SYMBOL! It isn't hieroglyphics. Sound it out, genius. Peace.

Shirt Color: WHITE (like the skin color of those who can't pronounce your name)

I would buy this T-shirt just for that amazing product description.

How To... Run An Islamic Organisation

2007-12-25T22:26:00.000+01:00

1. Hardy band of volunteers with a good idea starts up the group.

2. Decide positions. Argue over whether or not women are allowed positions.

3. Decide how to run the meetings: mixed/segregated? Separate rooms/women at the back/free-for-all?

4. Start with uncomfortable reminder about gender relations. Relevent people will act holy, people who don't have much to worry about get guilty.

5. Another argument about segregation for some reason.

6. To business! Bicker about small details for an absurd amount of time.

7. First meeting comes to an end (4 hours later).

8. Bickering over positions.

9. Next meeting: argument about segregation brought up again to audible groans. Discuss for 3 hours.

10. So on, ad infinitum.

2007-12-23T15:39:00.000+01:00

Eid Mubarak!

Had to say it, even if it is 3 (4?) days late.

Thots

2007-12-01T00:12:00.001+01:00

This is weird but does anyone else see a parallel between Native Deen's 'Paradise' and Lauryn Hill's 'Doo Wop (That Thing)'?.

Ok so Lauryn Hill lyrics aren't exactly halalified (though she does say don't forget about the deen, the sirat-al-mustaqeem' at the beginning). But otherwise:

"Showing off your ass cause you’re thinking it’s a trend
Girlfriend, let me break it down for you again..."
vs
"You're dressing to expose like those music videos
It's so tight, it'd be better if you loosen up your clothes"

or

"The second verse is dedicated to the men
More concerned with his rims and his timbs than his women
Him and his men come in the club like hooligans..."
vs
"Sport the newest clothing line so the sisters think we're fine
Imitate JZ, LL Cool J, Eminem and Genuine...
Tell the club you gotta go, leave them drugs and thugs in jail
Living ghetto fabulous will lead you straight to hell "

or

"Now Lauryn is only human
Don’t think I haven’t been through the same predicament"
vs
"Being young it ain't easy but don't ever feel alone
We were there, it was rough so we want it to be known..."

Mebbe I'm thinking about this too much but it's a nice distraction.

Oooh, new nasheed!

Weird Weird Weird Weird Weird Weird Weird

2007-11-26T23:44:00.000+01:00

So I appear to have been double tagged! iMuslim and Ajla, thanks you for helping me procrastinate. Not that I need help, you know.

Rules!

1. Link to the person that tagged you, and post the rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself.
3. Tag 7 random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
4. Let each person know that they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog

.

1. I eat Nutella with a spoon. I have also joined a Facebook group with this name.

2. I am currently wearing THE MOST AWESOME T-SHIRT EVER. Ahem. It's got an angry cartoon tooth holding a string and surrounded by flames, with the words "did you floss today?" - like this only without the swearing. This is because I am a badass dentalist.

3. I love really cheesy science/maths jokes, like: There were 2 neutrons walking down the street. One goes 'Man I just lost an electron!'. The other one says, 'you sure bro?' and the first one goes 'I'm positive!'. Or: I went to the chemist and asked how much the adenosine triphosphate was, and he said '80p!'. Or: there are 10 types of people in the world, those who understand binary and those who don't. Please share if you have any more!

4. I hate the smell of perfume, it makes me sick. Euch.

5. Usually, I like my procrastination to show results. I might not have studied, but I managed to clean my room/clean my car/draw something/create a quiz/make a papier-mache chicken and paint it.

6. I don't understand subtleties very well. Or at all. I think the world would be a much simpler place if people just said what they meant instead of just hinting that they are hungry/tired/bored/irritated/angry/sad/whatever. A lot of the time somebody (almost certainly a girl) will set up some intricate way to subtly tell me something, and I'll just steamroller the conversation and realise 3 weeks later that maybe that was why they didn't ever talk to me afterwards!

7. I hate tagging, it makes me feel icky. Hahaha I cheated!

Oh Scottish Public Transport How I Hate You

2007-11-24T00:37:00.000+01:00

Oh buses how do I loathe thee
Let me count the ways
I am sitting listening to an mp3
Then to my suprayz

An ugly dog, without a leash
Jumps aboard with us
Attacks the litter at people's feets
Until it decides to leave the bus.

How else do I hate thee
Oh maybe when the driver
Makes me show my pass 3 times
Because he thinks I am a skiver

And also when he drives by
At a stop where people are waiting
And then they get on and he has a rant
About how was he supposed to know they wanted to get on he's not a mind reader you know.

And I hate the passengers who
Seem to read The Sun all day
Then rant about brown people who do
Nothing but spend all his taxes away.

So really smelly buses
I hate you so much
I am inspired to write terrible terrible poetry
And get apoplectic and such.
---

Everything described so eloquently in my poem happened to me today. I took FIVE buses. FIVE!! When are scientists going to get their butts in gear and invent me my darn teleport system already?!

hay guyz gess wot

2007-11-18T23:16:00.001+01:00

Y'all are geniuses if you can understand me!

Or should that be genii?

How Much of a Girl Pants Are You?

2007-11-17T22:20:00.000+01:00

Somewhat related to eyelash extensions and leg make up, I made a new quiz!

How Much of a Girl Pants Are You?

I get 0% despite my fanatical love of kittens. Dunno if that's a scoring problem or if my quiz is just trying to please me.

Incidentally, I do believe I have found a direct correlation between quizzes made and proximity to exams - more research may be required.

Get a life

2007-11-14T00:36:00.000+01:00

On my way to Uni, I pass a beautician's that has a big sign saying 'EYELASH EXTENSIONS NOW AVAILABLE'.

Flicking through a magazine the other day, I came across an advert for 'the world's first make-up exclusively for legs!!'.

I am sad at the state of the world :(

Shadmaani hoooooooo shadmaani

2007-11-05T23:00:00.000+01:00

Sorry for the lack of pagality recently (I know you've been missing me....) - my sister's wedding was yesterday so it got slightly hectic up here. Now she's hitched her man and ditched us (heh) I might get back to normal. :P

Basically, I'm happy she's married, sad she's going away, and amused at all the random stories that I'm now stocked up with.

Like the aunt that stood complaining to my sister (the bride!) before the nikah about how tired she was and how she would have loved to be able to sit down all day like the bride could. Or how all the hotel guests stood aound staring at the wedding guests and being amazed at how 'colourful' it all was - the bride's wearing red! The dresses are so bright! The people are so brown! And really, if you're a foot away gossiping about everyone who walks past, we can hear you people...

So anyway, I'm pretty much knackered now. Zzzzzzzzzzz...

ps. can anyone point me in the direction of an article about the effects of shisha smoke? I know I read one in the Emel a few months back, can't seem to find it now and I need to prove a point!

yeah well you smell bad

2007-10-26T20:02:00.001+01:00

You can tell you're in for a bad day when you get laughed at by a bin man in the morning.*

For example, you might get rained on while wearing weater-inappropriate trousers and shoes (extra baggy/overlong trousers + flat fabric shoes + scottish weather = trudging around like a swamp monster). And then maybe a patient that you've been talking to for an hour could ask you if you'll be going 'back home' after you qualify**. And maybe people will annoy you by being disorganised while simultaneously expecting you to be so organised you have everything done by tuesday last jalember.

But then you suddenly remember it's Friday and everything's cool :D

*For the record, said bin man did a mock impression of me going 'ooooh, it's so smelly!' because I was covering my nose as his bin-truck went by. Even though it was oozing puke-like lumps out of its seams and I was already feeling gross because I was heading to a dissection class. Psh!

**For the record, he was really embarrassed after I told him, so that was okay.

Guess who's back...

2007-10-18T22:50:00.000+01:00

Eid Mubarak! Better late than never, is what I say. I am Pakistani after all.

I had a fantastic Eid full of family and food and fun and maybe fluff, just to extend the alliteration. Hope y'all did too!

Have some doodles!

I hate that it ran off the page, but mubarak is a really long word when you get down to it...

Ramadhan Mubarak

2007-09-15T11:13:00.001+01:00

Just to say, much like iMuslim, I won't be around much this month. But I pray all my fellow Muslims have a truly beneficial Ramadhan! Take care and remember me in your duas :)

Oh and listen online to Radio Ramadhan Glasgow (say at around 5pm) if you have time!

Jeevay Jeevay

2007-09-03T22:42:00.001+01:00

My sister returned from ~~the pindh~~ Pakistan today, bearing 30kg of wedding-shopping (ohmygodshe'sgoingawaytoosoon). And as much as I diss the place, I have to say: where else could you find such great clothes, jewellery and THE BEST SHOES EVER* reasonable enough that you don't have to remortgage your house? Only in Pakistan!

Probably in India too, actually, but shhhhhhh...

*pictorial proof to follow when I can get hold of the camera!

More City Centre Tales

2007-08-25T13:24:00.000+01:00

A couple of months ago, I was walking through town, and I saw a woman who I was sure I recognised, only I couldn't remember who it was. That in itself isn't really weird, because it usually takes me a while to put names to faces and vice versa, so much so that I usually just ask them to remind me if we've met before and they're like 'man, I met you 2 days ago, we talked for hours and you ate all my samosae!' or whatever. (It's their fault though, I can't be expected to remember if I see them out of context).

Anyway, the weird part was that this woman had a faceful of tattoos and piercings. Mostly piercings. She was quite short (shorter than me - probably not even 5 feet tall) and had dyed blonde hair, and her skin was maybe some shade of brown. I couldn't tell you what any of her features were like other than that, on account of all the piercings.

I walked past and smiled politely at her, then racked my brains to think where I would have met a woman like that. I thought maybe at a charity, because some very outlandish people come in there sometimes. Or maybe a protest, because that's when they really come out. But I couldn't be certain and that annoyed me a lot.

Fast forward to five minutes ago, when I came across a list of the top 10 physically modified people:

That's her at number 6!! I've worked out I recognised her from her picture in the Guiness Book of Records at school. I have to say, I did not expect her to live in Edinburgh and be called Elaine Davidson.

So that's alright then. Although I'm slightly worried how I thought I knew her.

ps. Sorry if you clicked that link and got waaay grossed out. Especially the cat dude at the end *shudder*.

Asking for it

2007-08-20T23:19:00.001+01:00

Weird cultural misunderstanding:

Refugee woman walking up to people in town, rattling a Starbucks cup to beg for change.
Approaches a Chinese woman standing outside the newsagent.
Chinese woman smiles widely and gratefully takes coins out of the offered cup.

How Not To Write an Essay (10 easy steps)

2007-08-12T18:25:00.000+01:00

1: Wait til 2 days before submission date to start writing.

2: Clear mind of all ideas on topic.

3: Procrastinate on internet for extended periods of time.

4: Dinner break.

5: Avoid computer for extended periods of time.

6: Return, find joke essay sister has written.

7: Do not delete joke essay.

8: Write real essay above joke essay so joke part scrolls onto last, unseen page.

9: Submit.

10: Read essay 4 months later only to realise joke part was not deleted. Guffaw.

---

I guess this shows that nobody actually read my essay after all. Which is a bit sad, but quite cool because it means next time I can just write 'banana' 500 times and hand it in.

If you're wondering, the title was along the lines of 'why might a root canal treatment fail and how can you tell it's successful?'. My sister wrote:

One reason a root canal may failis that the dentalist is a mentalist themselves ie a failure. Therefore how could they perform such a procedure correctly.

If a patient doesn't die, then perhaps their root canal was successful.

I'm glad she'll never be my dentist.

Dun Readn

2007-08-07T17:04:00.000+01:00

Man, it's been ages since I read a good book. I need some recommendations. Here's what I've been reading:

Bitter Sweets (Roopa Farooki)

This started off pretty good, and the writing had a lot of funny asides. But by the end it bugged me, because for the purpose of a neat and happy ending, the moral seemed to be 'lie as much as you want and have affairs all over the shop, because at the end of the day, all that matters is love'. That's stupid enough, not to mention a guy going out with his aunt and not knowing then freaking out when he realises but then it's all okay because his mother was not his mother so they weren't technically related (yeah). Also, negative points for ending with an aging Asian grandmother performing a dance to her grandson's rock band - the mental image is horrifying.

100 Shades of White (Preethi Nair)

The same sort of genre, this book was so much better. Both books actually have an Asian father living a double life (the traditional wife & family and the western wife & family simultaneously), but this one didn't act as if that was okay. Not as humorous, but a lot sweeter. And food descriptions to make me drool. Oh, and shocking random deaths!

The Weeping Women Hotel (Alexei Sayle)

I've never read any Alexei Sayle books before. This has to be one of the most downright weird books I've ever read, but it was still pretty funny. I read it the day I got my teeth pulled, and I kept laughing to myself, and the nurses gave me weird looks. Bonus points for people jumping out of trees doing Kung Fu.

Cell (Stephen King)

And this book was one of the most stupid I've read in years. Okay, so Stephen King doesn't like mobile phones and thinks that horrible viruses could be transmitted to turn all users into crazy psychos. But once you've said that, there's not much further to go. There was so much gore in this book it went past 'ew' and 'haha, ew' to 'he has to be kidding, yawn'. Negative points also for the gratuitous pop-culture references, and needless Islam-dissing - the virus spread is never explained or investigated, everyone just assumes it was those horrible oxymoronic Islamic terrorists, at one point 'like a Muslim boy strapping on a suicide belt' (or something - you can't ctrl-F a book) is used as a simile, and at another all the crazy phone zombies sit down simultaneously like Muslims at prayer. On a side note, I watched Misery for the first time last night, and Kathy Bates is awesome! I'm slightly worried by the fact I've been calling people 'Mr. Man' when I have road rage, though.

Scaredy Cat (Mark Billingham)

This was incredibley rubbish too. In the end, the serial killer wasn't someone unexpected, it was just some barely mentioned unimportant character. And the only female detective was sleeping around and doing drugs and generally being an irritating fool. The only thing that made me read right to the end of this book was my own stubborness.

Reaper Man (Terry Pratchett)

Death is my favourite Discworld character. Oh, and I discovered that Terry Pratchett really doesn't like shopping centres.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (J.K. Rowling)

Hahaha not really. I've been making fun of anyone over 16 who still reads Hari Puttar - ie, most of my friends. It's good to make fun of your friends every once in a while/every day/incessantly.

There were more books, but they were obviously too mundane to even remember.

On Rishta Aunties

2007-08-06T13:59:00.000+01:00

I talk about rishta aunties too much. I know this because I get people coming here after searching for things like 'rishta aunty' and 'desi aunty' and 'physiotherapist is haram' (okay, the last one is unrelated but yes, it's real). I don't know if these people are looking to make fun of said aunties, or if there's some 'just like we did it in the pind' matrimonial service they're all looking for.

But anyhoo, I just got home to an empty house, checked the answer machine, and there were like 5 missed calls and a random aunty message saying something along the lines of 'hello please to come back phone me please' (seriously). So I did what was required (ie laughing heartily then leaving a note for my mum to call this woman back. She didn't leave a name or number, but we have the power of Caller ID to check/track/stalk her.) Then I had some chocolate milk, but that's off topic.

So a few minutes ago the same number calls back, and we had a fun bilingual conversation (she did the Punjabi/Urdu, I did the English. I would have tried to speak the same language as her, but I couldn't be bothered. Also I didn't want to.):

Aunty: Hello? Hello? HELLO?

McP: Hello

Aunty: Slaamlekum.

McP: Wa alaikum as salaa-

Aunty: Who are you??

McP: Uhh..

Aunty: Well? What's your name?

McP: *tells her*

Aunty: I want to talk to your mother.

McP: She's at work.

Aunty: She works? Hai. You people never pick up the phone, I tried to call so many times. Where do you live?

McP: *vague answer*

Aunty: No, you have to tell me exactly.

McP: *is not very good at being vague*

Aunty: *complains of distance between respective houses*. What does your father do?

McP: *stunned* Uhhh... a shop? [well yeah, I'm Pakistani].

Aunty: *disappointed* Oh. A shop. Well, someone gave me your number. I am phoning for rishtafication. Blah blah blah, something about a daughter. I live in this place. I used to live in this other place. There's a big Tesco here. Do you understand?

McP (not understanding): Yes?

Aunty: *laughs wildly, followed by a little sigh*.

McP: ...
*thinks of telling aunty that we're not looking for a guy, my sister's engaged already*
*decides not to, it'll take too long*

Aunty: *proceeds on some incomprehensible monologue about her lifes and woes*

McP: *silent laughter*

Aunty: How can I come and meet you? Mumble mumble, 8 o'clock tonight?

McP: Hang on, you want to come over tonight?

Aunty: ...nno? I don't have your address!

McP: My mum will call you later.

So in summary: that was freaky. Man, I don't think she even has a son.

Don't Hate on the Hayjays

2007-07-29T20:49:00.001+01:00

Hayjay is a really cool word my cousin used for her hijab for a while, and I still use it sometimes so I'm cool too.

On the internets I've come across a lot of articles about hijabis, or types of hijabis. Not only are there the usual anti-Muslim-it's-so-oppressive type ones, there's also the 'Muslims bashing half-donkeyed hijab-attempts' ones too. I mean, yeah, they're funny, but there's only so much material (transparent or otherwise) that you can get out of stereotypes before you just seem overly judgemental, right? Like this one: one of the first email forwards I got when we got the internet way back in the 20th century. I actually found it hilarious at the time, but then again I don't remember it having that sour little disclaimer at the end that "if anyone disagrees with me or is offended, then you are disagreeing with the teachings of Allah".

Baba Ali of Ummah Films does it much, much better - explains why he's doing it, so it's not just a vain attempt to get laughs but it's a reminder (well, yeah!), and hopefully a wee word of warning so people who don't know can correct themselves. I suppose some people could take it as offensive since it's coming from a brother, but inshallah it's coming from a sincere place.

All the same, I don't like the idea of people going around categorising people so they can go ahead and laugh about them later at the Islamic circle. I feel that if you really believe you've seen someone doing something so wrong it's worthy of ridicule, you should discreetly advise them first - even if you don't know them that well. The worst they can do is reject what you're saying, but at least you've done your duty. At best, you'll be telling them about something they didn't know, and you'll even be rewarded for that (inshallah!).

If you've not got the gall to tell them yourself, then at least don't mock them behind their back. I feel really guilty for all the times I've done this myself, maybe that's why I'm saying this. But really, if you've just seen some un-hijably hijab on a hijabi in passing, then try and put yourselves in their shoes and make some excuses for them. They might be wearing a luminous yellow hijab because all their other ones were dirty, or lost in a fire. Or they might be doing the mickey-mouse hijab because their ears got hot. Or they might have half their hair on their face because they just washed it yesterday and the stupid scarf won't sit right and there's some static electricity going on and they're EXTREMELY hot and bothered and annoyed that you're staring at them. If you see someone like that, it's probably me, so wave hi!

At the same time, you sometimes have to excuse hijabi behaviour in the same way. I mean, if they're doing outright haram, then you should tell them obviously. But say they're in the middle of a laughing fit- you don't have to assume that they're giggling for your benefit *COUGH* maniac muslim*COUGH*. Really, do brothers think like that? If I was to walk past a bunch of guys all guffawing heartily, I'd either think that it's just a coincidence and they were laughing during their conversation in general; or if I was feeling particularly paranoid that they were laughing at me. I'd usually go for the second option. But if a bunch of girls are laughing and a guy walks past, suddenly they're giggling coquettishly for him?

I suppose my problem is that if you're categorising people like that, based on the one time you saw them doing a certain thing, you're not leaving any room for the fact that they don't behave the same way all the time. They could be very sober in general, and just prone to the occasional hysterical cackle. They could dress normally most of the time, you just happen to see them on the day they're dressed up like a pirate. And so on.

And so, may I present to you:

click to embiggen!

Unbridled

2007-07-27T19:34:00.000+01:00

Fun way to spend a day: internetting and reading Asian bridal magazines.

If you've never read one of these, you're heavily missing out (unless you're a guy, in which case I'd be giving you dirty looks and calling you a perv for eyeing up all the kuriya. Go away and lower your gaze or summat). So anyways, there's not actually much to read - it's something like 15% words to 85% pictures. And they're uniformly 100% advertising since they don't actually have a bad word to say about anyone.

The point of them, I gather, is to check out the clothes, get ideas, then run off and order your own so you can look fabulous too. Or maybe to check out the models, get depressed about your body image then run off to lose weight, grow taller, and generate that expression that's a perfectly serene mix of 'I'm feeling nauseous', 'I just let off and am trying not to show it' and 'I think I left my car keys... over there.'

However, if you're not really into fashion or extreme weight loss, there's still hours of fun to be had with these magazines. The first half hour or so can be spent laughing at the ridiculous clothes ('OMG, is she really wearing jewel-encrusted leggings with a metallic lumberjack shirt?!' and so forth). And the ideas they have for wedding themes (Jane Austen style ballgowns for the girls, coat-tails and top hats for the guys = looking like a bunch of FOBs).

Then you move onto laughing at the weird faces the models make and the amount of makeup caked onto their faces. (All the Asian models are whited up, and all the White models are bronzed, so that it takes a trained eye to tell the difference really. Then you start wondering if there's some global ideal skin colour: tanned-er than white but whiter than brown; ethnic but not too ethnic, and preferably with piercing blue eyes. Then you applaud your own insight and move on.)

And if you get bored of that, you can spend a lot of time laughing at all the adverts. Like the ones for the Peer/Pundit/'God-Gifted' Baba Sahib that can melt your arrogant lover's heart and bring them back into your life immediately, break evil spirits and black magic forever, or just cure your children's disobedience.

I don't know why, but I laughed at this for like 5 minutes straight. And then:
Poor thing. The quotation marks are so intriguing: has it actually been imaginatively name 'Horse'? Or is it a legal thing so that they can produce a white wedding donkey on the day?

Somewhat related:

I suppose with the big nose ring connected to earring connected to hair thing that some girls wear, 'bridle' isn't so bad of a typo...

Jilbab Update

2007-07-22T17:41:00.000+01:00

So I went and bought another HijabShop.com jilbab. This one avoided all the faults of its predecessor - it fit first time, the material doesn't sound like stadium applause, and it doesn't ride up.

Also: it has a HOOD.

Rock on!

Jilbabalicious

2007-07-10T20:28:00.000+01:00

A while ago I was generally venting and mentioned that I wanted a jilbab. Then I got one, and I didn't mention it, and I just know that it left a hole in your lives. Then Snowdrops left me a comment recommending thehijabshop.com, which happened to be where I bought mine from, and I thought I'd review it. Partly because I would have appreciated a review when I was buying mine, but mostly just because.

So anyway. Here's the jilbab I got:

Description
"This jilbab has a stripe going vertically down, the piping effect is the main feature of the jilbab giving this jilbab a unique sports look, the same piping effect is incorporated onto the sleeves to give it an added sport feel. To ensure complete comfort, soft lightweight, taslon fabric is used. The design includes a stand up collar with a zip to enable you to slip into it with ease and comfort. To finish, the jilbab features a vertical pocket with a zip."

The Process
The first thing I encountered was that every time I saw a jilbab I really, really liked, my size would be sold out. That's not a bad thing really, it shows how popular these guys are really. The lesson is: if you like something, buy it! If you don't like it, you can always return it later.

Then, when they were all stocked up, I had the problem of picking my size. I've grown up knowing that when you buy clothes from Asians/Muslims, the sizes are usually vague and approximate, and 'small' usually means 'in relation to a tent'. In The Hijab Shop, the jilbabs come in 'slim' and 'regular' fit, and in different lengths in each. I emailed to clarify if the measurements given were of the jilbab, or of the person they fit, but they didn't reply. No worries, it was probably a silly question anyway, but I would have appreciated some huuman contact. (They've now written on the website that the measurements are of the jilbab).

So to counteract the Muslim Clothes effect, I bought the smallest size they had. However, when it arrived, it fit sort of like a tennis dress. This is not a good thing, because have you seen what female tennis players wear now? Gross.

So then I bought the next size up, height-wise. I figured I only needed an extra couple of inches. This arrived, the hips exactly the same size as the previous jilbab, and everything else a bit bigger. So now I had a jilbab that was slightly too long and still a bit bootylicious.

At this point, I returned both of these jilbabs, and resigned myself to being 'regular' instead of 'slim'. The new one came (pretty fast, I forgot to mention), and by this time I forced myself not to notice it was a tad short because I was getting a bit bored with the whole process, to be honest.

The return process was just to send the unwanted ones back in the original packaging with a note of the order numbers, and hope for the best. I emailed them to let them know, but again, I had no reply. Alhamdulillah though, the money turned up credited to my account.

The Product
So, onto the actual jilbab. The description told me it was made of taslon, but I didn't know what that was. My mum told me it was used in sport clothes. It said 'soft' up there though, so I was happy to buy it.

Taslon, it turns out, is really tracksuit-y. Advantages: really lightweight, takes up very little weight, feels sporty. Disadvantages: really noisy. Don't wear it to the library to study, for example, or else you'll have to ration the number of times you can shift about in any hour so that you don't get umpteen dirty looks from the guy opposite up to his ears in chemical formulae (for example).

Everything else about it is cool, though. The pocket is extremely useful. The design's funky. It doesn't die from being machine washed.

Minor points: the width of the skirty bit could be bigger, so that it doesn't ride up when you're walking. And the head-hole could do with being slighty bigger too.

Summary
Fit: 6/10
Funkiness: 9/10
Service: 7/10

Fin!

---

Somewhat related, in that jilbabs go with hijabs, and hijabs are great but sometimes the people who wear them aren't: A Muslim juror was thrown off a murder trial when she was caught listening to an MP3 music player under her headscarf.

Come on! A murder trial? And you're boppin' to your iPod? That's low.

At school people used to suggest I had a cheat-tape playing on a walkman under my scarf, but I never really did it. Pft.

Feeling Unwise

2007-07-04T16:08:00.000+01:00

from here

E arlier this year I mentioned that I was going to get my wisdom teeth out. And now I have done! And it was probably the most exciting thing that has happened to me so far in these summer holidays (which haven't been uninteresting, I'm just really sad about stuff like this. The first time I stayed in a hotel room I got irrationally impressed that the keycard for the door also switched on the lights).

So yeah, excitingness! To be fair, this was my first admission to hospital ever (alhamdulillah) so that's bound to be cool as it is. Hearing all the NHS horror stories I was kind of worried that I'd be in some dingy ward with nurses that didn't speak English and doctors that hated everyone. But everyone, right down to the receptionists who usually hate all human life forms, was incredibly friendly, the day surgery unit was fresh and clean, and I didn't get MRSA. In conclusion, the NHS rocks and people should just stop dissing and give it more money now.

Inci-dentally (haha!) the surgeon who took my teeth out was one of my lecturers this year. Which was good, because I knew he was all expert-like, but bad because his lectures mostly consisted of gory facial trauma pictures with lotsa blood and death stories. Actually, it was in my case-notes that I'm a dental student so all the clinicians got excited and asked me about their old teachers/colleagues, then randomly tested my knowledge of anatomy or pharmacology or whatever, but made special efforts to show me my X-rays and stuff. So I got to use my knowledgeable nod a lot and pretend I had taken in some of the stuff I'd been taught.

The anaesthetist/anaesthesiologist (?) was slightly strange and told me all about the drugs he was giving me as he was giving them. I'm sad I can't remember them now. But it was like this:
Anaesthe-guy: Okay, so I'm just giving you X first, it's from X drug family, you may use it in the dental hospital too, it's to help you relax, it starts working in 30 seconds, so-
Me: Whooooooooooo! The room is moving, ooh...
Anaesthe-guy: Okay... Now I'm giving you the anaesthetic-
Me: *zonked out*.

So that was fun. Hey, he also told me one of those drugs was an opiate, which I thought was awesome.

Later on, I woke up (though I didn't remember falling asleep, I didn't even get to do the who counting backwards from 10 thing!) and there was something on my face, so I tried to get it off, and the nurse came over and told me very nicely that it was my oxygen mask and I'd better leave it on, dear.

Then I got taken back down to my ward feeling very nauseous and kicked about for a bit, and had some cup-a-soup (but not enough to appease the nurses who said my lunch would eat me before I ate it), and had my blood pressure taken a lot (which is on the lowest side of normal, as I found out from nosily reading my charts. You know they note down how often you peed? Probably necessary but it still weirds me out), and then I went home.

And now I have chubby cheeks that my mum thinks are very cute but which I think are a good deterrent to stop me putting on 12 stone, and I'm avoiding taking my painkillers because they make me vomit. Seriously, how do people get addicted to codeine? It's gross.

By the way, I didn't get to keep my teeth as they had to chop them up into little pieces to get them out.

And thus ends my hospital adventure.

Bonny Bonny Banks*

2007-06-29T13:28:00.000+01:00

You know what I love about Scotland? (Aside from the accent, the people, the free higher education, the Irn Bru, and the fact that we're Not England.)

The fact that you can drive for an hour or so, walk a couple of miles, and get views like this:

I didn't actually take any of these pictures, but I was there!

The day was a lot brighter than it looks in the pictures, but it was slightly on the cool side which was perfect. And apparently this was the easiest hills to climb, which is clearly a load of rubbish as we had to trek to the top, totally out of breath, getting overtaken by little old grannies with their 5 year old grandchildren.

Anyway, I still get a sense of achievement from thinking that I was up on that pointy bit!

*Of Loch Katrine.

Faceblah

2007-06-25T19:38:00.000+01:00

Question: How do people you know add you on Facebook if your username is completely random, your date of birth is random, your email address is hidden and you didn't put in any other details?

I am perplexed.

And now I've sorted out my names and stuff to be sensible, because people know it's me anyway, so I might as well be truthful. Let's see how that goes.

Initiation

2007-06-19T19:17:00.000+01:00

So, like, my sister's getting engaged and stuff. I've always had a mental note in my head that when that happened, I'd have to upgrade my look from 'somewhat adequate' to 'half decent'.

This is harder than it sounds. First of all, it's easier to go, 'pffft, anybody can look good if they make an effort' than to actually go ahead and make that effort. I mean, if you make no effort, and end up looking crap, that's okay because you didn't want to look good anyway. But if you spend more than 15-30 minutes getting ready and then look crap anyway, you've set yourself up for a fall. And if you suddenly turn from the sort of person who didn't give a monkeys into the kind of person that gives monkeys very generously, you get a lot of attention. And people think you've gone all girly, which would totally ruin your rep. You won't have your 'thing' anymore!

Yeah, so I'm not making a lot of sense right now. The gist of it is: my sister's getting engaged, so I went make-up shopping so I can look half decent at her events.

All my cosmetics have, up to this point, been of the blue-and-white variety (which is kind of appropriate I guess).

sorry for all the weird junk in the picture :)

But now! Behold, the sophisticated new colours!

maybe she's born with it, maybe it's maybelline!

So here are some things I learned about make up:
1. Make up shopping is well boring, but if you pretend it's like stationery it's more fun. Like 'hmm, I could do with a new fine liner and pastels' rather than 'I need eyeliner and foundation oh for goodness sake how do I go about that let me walk around in circles for a while'.

2. Make up is not well organised. They group everything by brand so equivalent products are hard to compare. This is Well Stupid, and also time consuming.

3. It's all darned expensive. I could have bought at least 60 Cadbury's Dairy Milks for the price of the 3 items in the picture above.

4. Just because something looks like chocolate mousse doesn't mean you should buy it. *sigh* But it makes up for it when you find that your colouring is apparently caramel. Man, I love caramel.

5. Foundation seriously makes a difference!

6. No matter how much make up you wear, you will never, ever look like the girls in the Asian wedding magazines. For that, you'd need some kind of real life portable Photoshop type thing. And a lifetime's supply of fake eyelashes.

---

Have you ever thought much about guys, especially desis, who straighten their hair? I hadn't either, mostly because I didn't think they existed, but then I found out that my friends' brothers frequently fought with their sisters over straightener use. Even Muslim guys! And that's got to be for female attention, because guys don't really compliment each others' appearance, unless they want to be accused of batting for the other team. Or maybe they do it in secret?

We may never know.

I have been slandered!

2007-06-07T19:59:00.000+01:00

Seriously, people.

Thing is with GoToQuiz, you can check back to see how many people have taken your quiz and where they're clicking in from. I like that, it's like part-time stalking. Anyway, my 'How Pakistani are you?' quiz is hovering around #21 in the chart, and has been taken by over 21,000 people. That's cool, not to mention surprising. (The Marriagability quiz, though I liked it better, isn't in the chart as it's only been taken by like 2,000 people).

Most of the links are from places with 'pak' somewhere in the URL, which isn't shocking. There's also a lot from Orkut and Facebook and stuff. Because I'm incredibley curious, I signed up to a few of these places to see what people were saying. Facebook's pretty boring, to be honest, so Orkut's where it's at in terms of entertainment value. People seem very dramatic.

But sometimes offensive. In case you can't sign in to Orkut, here's the content of the message thread I linked above (errr... not exactly verbatim):

Goatee Guy: *Link!*
Bunch o'People: *Scores!*
Killjoy Girl: This is indecent and sick!
Other People: Quiz bashing.
Sunglasses Guy: Hey ho I think it's for Pakistanis abroad, not patriots. It rocks, whoo!
The Slanderer: Oh man I knew you'd defend it cuz you wrote it and stuff, you suck lol.
Sunglasses Guy: Lol ur even more Pakistani for jumping to conclusions. Here's who wrote it! *link to mcpagal*. It's rated high. It rocks, whoo!
The Slanderer: You were quick to introduce her. She's ur girlfriend or something lol.
Sunglasses Guy: Eh whit man?
Mr. Astute: The quiz setter forgot to put in a question regarding arguing over the quiz..
...[Argument continues, mcpagal gets bored].

Just to be clear, I don't much care if people hate my quiz, although it's much nicer when they find it funny. Mind you, I find it funnier when they don't find it funny.

Implying I'm some random dude's girlfriend is out of line, however! (though still amusing...). In case anyone wasn't sure, no, I don't have a boyfriend. I might not be Pakistan's biggest fan, but I'm still a practising Muslim. Keep your suspicions to yourself! And I don't think making fun of the stereotypical Pakistani mentality is quite on the same line as the cartoons of the Prophet (saw), miss Killjoy Girl. I realise the quiz might be best suited to British Pakistanis with a sense of humour, but I didn't think people would find it out-and-out offensive.

Just so you know, it's the Pakistani mentality I make fun of. That can be in people who have no Pakistani heritage at all, and it can be absent in people who have a Pakistani passport. So there.

And yes, I do know about all my typos. The fact that I'm probably the least accurate typist in Scotland, but one of the most pedantic, is a constant source of pain to me. (I also have the ability to typo while writing - I just noticed I spelled audit as 'aidut' in my notes). I cry myself to sleep sometimes.

Finally: if you REALLY believe that you're 100% Pakistani, then you are :)

Nice Ice

2007-06-06T19:44:00.000+01:00

Damien Hirst (left)

First thought looking at Damien Hirst's diamond-encrusted skull: woah. What a brilliant statement on the paradoxes of mortality and suchlike.

Second thought: there's caries in the lower right molar!!

Seriously, Damien. If you're going to take a skull and cover it in in 8,601 diamonds embedded in platinum, can you at least make sure the teeth aren't rotting?! Specially if they aren't all there. Artists these days. No attention to detail, eh?

Sword Fights!

2007-05-25T15:14:00.001+01:00

And the reasons why I feel like having one:

a) I saw the new Pirates of the Caribbean film yesterday and it was WELL COOL [apart from being slightly too long, and Kiera Knightley being her usual tarty character]. Edit: people should stop complaining that it was too hard to follow. It's for kids! Maybe people find it hard to follow plotlines after watching tons of RomComs? Good review of the film here: "...Knightley’s thin voice continues to let her down, and Bloom has never needed the seven seas to make him wet." Hur Hur.

b) I just bought Prince of Persia: Warrior Within - for less than a fiver! - and I can't wait to play it. Hurry up and deliver it Mr. E Bay Seller! I wants me some gamesin'! (I play on a Gamecube, by the way. None of this newfangled Wii nonsense! I will be well impressed if any of you wondered that, though).

Notice that I waited til after exams to do both these things. That's maturity, so it is.

Freeeeeeedom!!

2007-05-23T13:33:00.000+01:00

Exams are over! Alhamdulillah! High five, etc!

I might have to resit them, but they're over now, so all I can do in the meantime is take up crazy hobbies and make lots of dua.

Anyways, it so happens that my brain doesn't like me if I abuse it with too much dry science-y type stuff. It forces me to try and do something more creative, no matter how stupid. It's not above threatening to explode if I don't comply. So, for example, when I was trying to study for my Standard Grades/GCSE type exams, I ended up making a papier-mache chicken. Well, I saw balloons, wallpaper paste and newspaper all in the same place - what more can you expect? I got a proper maar from my mum when she came to give me sympathy for studying so hard and found me painting feathers instead.

There was no wallpaper paste this year, so I had to make do with plain ole paper. I've scanned in some doodles for your enjoyment:

I had to flip stuff around in this one, a lot of it was upside-down. This was doodled over a couple of days of neat note writing (hence the use of delicious Staedler Triplus Coloured Fineliners. How I love my fineliners!)

I found these ones on some lecture notes. The lecture wasn't particularly boring, or else the bee would look more angry/sleepy. Oh and I don't know what x10^-13 was all about. Nice number, I guess.

I also seem to have some kind of obsession with monkeys. I found a lot of monkeys in my notes. I like the word too. Monkeymonkeymonkey.

A Paint doodle!

The pool of green stuff was originally red, but my mum found it too violent. Also the original had my real name, I don't refer to myself as McPagal! Note: the exambulance also appears to be driven by a monkey.

And finally:

The Macrodoodle! I've been doing throughout this year (well, academic year). I usually end up with scrappy little bits and pieces at the corner of lecture notes, so I decided to do some damage limitation and keep it all on the same page instead. It's been cleaned up a little in Microsoft Photoeditor coz I'm cool like that.

I thought of calling it something psycho-pretentious, like This is how it sounds inside my MIND but my mind sounds a lot more like the circus-tune, I've decided.

I don't know what to do with it now, really. The enjoyment's gone out of it now that it's finished. I could go crazy and do one every year for the rest of my life so that I eventually have enough to wallpaper a house or something, but that sounds too much like commitment. And also I'd have to listen to even more people looking at it and going 'oooooh, you must do amazing henna art!' which is a load of rubbish. IS IT COZ I IS ASIAN? I actually suck at mehndi. I'm too indecisive, and I've found that you don't get to have an eraser for mehndi. Even if you try wiping it off, it leaves a smudgy orange mark that people don't really appreciate. Plus, a mehndi cone is nothing like a pencil. And you can't just do it when you feel like it, you have to finish it and whatnot. So in conclusion: I can't do henna.

Oooh, I flipped the doodle into a negative:

Psychadelic!

7 Random Facts

2007-05-19T18:24:00.000+01:00

Avast, I be tagged by iMuslim!

Given that I've already told you 10 weird things about me, I might try and be a bit more normal in this one. McAqlMand, even! Well, I can only try...

1. My favourite colours are blue-y green-y sort of things. Refreshing and whatnot.

2. I really, really hate the colour pink. I think it's unfair that little girls are forced to wear such a boring and sickly colour. If I had a daughter, I'd dress her in all sorts of wacky colours. Like green! That'd be nice on a kid. Who care if all the other babies laugh at her, so long as I'm happy. I also hated Barbies as a kid, they were boring - who wants to dress up a plastic doll when you can play with Polly Pocket instead? [Actually, I just went to the Polly Pocket website, and she seems to have morphed into Barbie. They've made her bigger, and now she seems to be more about 'cruisin the mall' than having cool little plastic environment with moving thingmies and hidden features. Darn her!]

3. My favourite TV programmes are/were Malcolm in the Middle, Everybody Hates Chris, House, The Apprentice, and Top Gear. I don't know what that says about me, really.

4. I love gadgets and gadget-y things. Like slider phones (<- that's mine, that is). And shiny cars. And rooms with secret entrances, like that just look like a wall of books! Also, those Powerizer leg-things that let you jump 6ft in the air, they're amazing.

5. My favourite number is 5 (and multiples thereof). Mmmm, 5. Reminds me of symmetry and halves and all that sort of thing.

6. This is getting hard. Errmmm... I very rarely toot at anyone when I'm driving, even if they've just done something extremely emergency-stop stupid. It might be because I'm a calm driver, or because I'm too slow to have any other reaction than jamming on the brakes. I prefer the former!

7. The two things I think are incredibly cool right now are double dutch skipping and parkour. These kids totally own the rope-jumping world:

Now I tag Traveller, The Funky Photon and Organic.

Shiver me timbers!

Library Thoughts

2007-05-15T16:28:00.000+01:00

Or, Things I Think About After Having Exhausted All the Procrastinatory Options Around Me (namely reading the graffiti on the desk and doodling):

1. Crochet pumps are nothing more than glorified socks.

2. Someone should tell the girls sitting in the hallway talking backbiting about all their friends that we can hear every word. Hmm, so that's why James broke up with that tart...!

3. Why does my seat keep creaking? It's very embarrassing.

4. I need to cut my nails. Hey, who invented the nailcutter? Is he a millionaire?

5. Why did I assume the nailcutter inventor was male? I'm so sexist.

6. Why can't I think of anything invented by a woman? Probably because they invent boring things like frying pans. Haha sexism is fun.

7. I like lists. Things I Am Free To Do After Exams: 1. Learn to juggle. 2. Learn to double dutch. 3. Learn to juggle and double dutch simultaneously. 4. Animate nasheeds. 5. Learn to animate. 6. Wash wee Mikey. 7. See Pirates of the Caribbean 3!! 8. Go cycling. 9. Buy a crash helmet. 10. Learn to backflip off a wall. 11. Think of a way to distract my mother while attempting #10. 12. Buy a chicken (for #11).

8. I probably should have thought of a better name for my car than 'wee Mikey'.

9. I wonder how much of that list I'll get done. At least 3 things were on my list last year.

10. The girl behind me can't possibly eat all 5 of those giant cookies. She should give me one.

And so on.

Browsin'

2007-05-12T23:47:00.000+01:00

Here's a couple of articles I've come across:

David Cameron slums it (or not) with some Muslims. He even blogged about it. Personally I find him kind of slimy - he just seems to say what people want to hear. Also there's something quite mannequin like about him which weirds me out. Hey, I never promised stunning political commentary here did I?. Anyway, even if this stinks of a publicity stunt, kudos to him for trying it out. I, for one, would not want to stay with a random Pakistani family, the ones I know are bad enough (only joking, people related to me! hahaha).

Anyway, this part of the article was kind of confusing...

Then we went to the local mosque, where I had a really fascinating (and in some respects extremely worrying) conversation with some of the elders. After spending some more time in the local shops (including trying my hand at serving customers – not a great success) we met up with some parents at the Balsall Heath Forum, an amazing community organisation led by the brilliant social entrepreneur Dick Atkinson, then on to dinner back at Abdullah’s house, before going out on patrol with Abdullah, who’s a community warden. We ended the day with a drink in the local pub.

70 excuses, 70 excuses, 70 excuses...

Uhhh... In Birmingham, pub is short for 'halal restaurant'? By 'we' he meant himself, but he didn't want to sound like a loner? The politician was lying? Yeah, that'll do.

Also, I've been laughing my head off at this article about Prince William in The Onion. Wait, that came out wrong. I've heard of William of Orange, but not William in the Onion. Darnit, now I can't think how else to word it.

Quotes!

"Hear me, O Britain!" exclaimed His Royal Highness, whose voice was heard to peal forth from the lists as thunder from great mountain-height, ringing in every corner of that green and pleasant land, as well as on BBC Two and internationally on ESPN, garnering a nod of approval from the Queen, who gazed on regally from the royal box...

And 'spite a fortnight full of tragic news that wicked Fate had split the comely pair, the noble Prince William did grant a victory nosegay to his former love, the beauteous Kate Middleton, who with wet and melancholy eye did the prince's gaze avoid, as befits a commoner.

Man, that rocks.

Gender Bashing

2007-05-08T19:21:00.000+01:00

the blunderous adventures of naseehaman

So now we know why there's so many hijab-bashers!

Here's news for you:

2007-04-30T20:22:00.000+01:00

1. I still like watching the news, reading it on the internet or in the Metro in the morning just isn't good enough sometimes.

2. We only had 2 dedicated news channels - the ITV one stopped transmitting because it went bankrupt or something, and CNN doesn't count as news.

3. Virgin Media (who provide our TV) were in a dispute with BSkyB recently, and it ended up that Sky pulled its channels because Virgin wouldn't pay what it was asking. So now we only have 1 news channel.

Suitably bored?

Anyway, the upshot of it is - I can now only watch BBC news. [Unless I want to get off my butt and watch some other news on a normal channel, but that would involve checking the clock and such].

ANYWAY, BBC news is pretty good. I don't think it's overly biased or anything and the format's fine. However I have recently found myself getting angry when watching the news. This isn't overly abnormal, I get angry when doing a lot of things (e.g. booking a doctor's appointment, because as a rule, doctors' receptionists like to make your life as hard as possible maybe so that you have some kind of angry seizure right there in front of them then they get to practise CPR but you know what, they'd probably FAIL at that just like they fail at being receptionists, silly failure phone women; and also e.g. filling in forms, because I'm bad at that - even the little form that makes sure you're not a spambot when posting comments takes me a few tries - and being bad at things makes me angry. Oh wait, does that mean I'm bad at most things and that's why I'm angry so often? I don't think I like this train of thought much any more.)

I don't think I'm particulary bad at watching news. I think the presenters are what makes it all so infuriating. Here's a rundown of the worst culprits:

1. George Alagiah

What's so funny George? Why do you find something to laugh about at the end of EVERY news piece? I actually have a feeling it's not entirely his fault. Apparently he's a "specialist on Africa and the developing world and has interviewed among others Nelson Mandela, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, UN Secretary General Kofi Annan and President Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe... In 2000 he was part of the BBC team which collected a Bafta award for its coverage of the Kosovo conflict." Does that sound like a man who laughs at the end of every sentence? "Ho ho ho, I'm so plummy!". Maybe the bosses at BBC were worried that if he continued to report anything with substance, he would scare the public. Wars are nasty like that. So they gave him lots of human interest pieces, plonked him next to the make-up masked Natasha Kaplinsky, told him to inject some personality into his reporting - and hoped that he'd irritate people so much he'd get booted off or something. Then people wouldn't have to hear about all the nasty wars and all would be well with the world.

Or maybe he just wants to be an anchor on an American news channel. Here's news for you George: You're Asian, not white. That makes you a TERRORIST. Americans won't accept you, you better give up now and stop laughing your way through the news, plz thnx.

2. Fergus Walsh

This guy is the BBC's medical or science correspondent or something, and manages to reduce most stories into incredibly patronising graphics that he talks you through like he's talking to kids.

He isn't listed on the BBC website either, so obviously it isn't just me who dislikes him.

3. Chris Lowe and Joanna Gosling

I didn't notice these two at all, until I watched them giving a rundown of the next day's headlines at night. Without their teleprompter they went from posh presenters to inarticulate slobs in approximately 2.3 seconds. 'Errrr... the er, Times tomorrow features a photograph of the prince, yes, errr.. Prince Harry, this being the story of err... the army, Iraq, and err.. yes, they also have a... no. Moving on, yes, errr..." ARGH! It's very annoying. Reading out headlines isn't so different from reading from a screen, guys. Or maybe you should just scrap this feature altogether, we can always check out the next day's headlines, er, the next day?

4. Rubbish news

This isn't a presenter, obviously, but I just remembered another BBC thing that annoyed me. We were treated to extended reporting, daily, of proposed changes to refuse collection and recycling policy. We even had a Fergus-Walsh style graphic explanation of 'How Fortnightly Rubbish Collections Would Work'. Get over it, England! We had the same changes up here with relatively little fuss - just some leaflets through the door, extra boxes for recycling and stuff, and maybe a newspaper article on page 7 where there was a space or something. It's not a big deal. Stop talking about it!

(Also, I didn't much care for the 2 weeks on the 6 o'clock news when they interviewed different people to ask what they thought of congestion-charging. Reporting it one day, okay maybe, but not every day please! If I wanted ordinary people's opinions, I'd read their blogs.

I bet there's a blog dedicated to discussing fortnightly refuse collection. Man, that actually makes me sad.)

---

Since we're talking news, elections for local councillors and for the Scottish Parliament are coming up in a couple of days. This is exciting as this is the first election I can vote in, instead of just pestering my family to go out. We had our daily delivery of propoganda today:

it testifies to my state of mind that I took the time to arrange & photograph these

This is just today's lot. Most of the parties represented here haven't sent us anything before, which I think is bad form. Only 2 have been campaigning throughout the year. The Conservative candidate sends out badly-printed typo-ridden newletters complaining about any minor decision the present council makes, around once a month. The LibDems send out considerably more, masked in the form of community updates, but suspiciously yellow and full of graphs showing how only the LibDems can beat Labour in this area.

The most amusing leaflets pictured were the SNP one (2nd row centre), mainly because Alex Salmond's eyebrows make me laugh; Labour (3rd row, 2nd from left) because their main selling point seems to be that they can take anything the SNP does and make it sinister; and UKIP (2nd row, 2nd from right). The UK Independence Party want to abolish the Scottish Parliament and sack all the MSPs. Therefore, they want us to vote for them to be our MSPs. I'm not sure I get this.

Fortunately this makes me more amused than angered.

At least I scored high in something...

2007-04-28T21:40:00.000+01:00

Kay, so I didn't write this quiz but I thought it was pretty apt:

You are 65% procrastinator!

Okay, Houston, we have an official problem! You procrastinate like there's no tomorrow - or rather, as if you have all the tomorrows in the world. Please, please do get off this computer and do something productive!

How Much Do You Procrastinate?
Make a Quiz

Darnit, I knew I was bad, but not that bad! Though I think when you're at the point when you've not only cleaned your room but also cleaned out ALL the folders on your computer, and you're actually getting bored of the internet (*gasp*) so much so that you look up quizzes to see how bad of a procrastinator you are... Well, that's the point when you should maybe start studying.

After drinking a glass of milk.

Tagalicious

2007-04-16T20:33:00.000+01:00

Tagged by Traveller, whoo!

People who get tagged must write in a blog of their own ten weird things or habits or little known facts as well as state this rule clearly. At the end you must choose six people to be tagged and list their names. No tagbacks!

Darn it, this'll be hard. I'm too normal, people! *sigh*

For the purposes of general interest and procrastination, I shall make this an illustrated (well, google-imaged) meme!

1. When I was small, I used to be scared of the Fish Van Man. In case you didn't have a Fish Van in your area, it's basically like an ice cream van. Only with fish instead of ice cream, and without the merry jingles, and serving mostly old ladies instead of kids. So not very much like an ice cream van, then... Anyway, the fish van man would drive into the street, honk his horn, and old ladies would flock to him to buy fish [my street is 90% elderly people - my playmate used to be the retired teacher next door. I would ask his wifey if he was allowed out to play]. For some reason his horn-honking got me terrified and I would run inside screming when I heard it. Or if I was inside, I would hide under the table. Obviously, my family treated my phobia with the utmost sympathy (ha!) and would threaten my with the Fish Van Man if I misbehaved, or just for funsies make stomping noises so I'd think he was INSIDE THE HOUSE and freak out. Yeah.

2. I have a sightly unhealthy fascination with candle wax. I like poking my fingers in the melted stuff and then peeling it off when it sets. Or poking people with a waxy finger cuz it feels funny. I have ruined many candles in my time.

3. My cheeks are elastic. True story! They can stretch more than 5cm away from my face if you give em the old pinch-n-pull, auntie style. The weirder thing about this, though, is that I have friends, and friends-of-friends, who know this and ask to pull my cheeks every time they see me. Or sometimes a random girl will come up to me and ask to pull my cheeks, because one of my friends told her to. This can be kind of awkward.

yeah maybe not that stretchy!

4. I don't use tipp-ex when I make a mistake, because I feel like it ruins my notes and all I can see is the little opaque white patch. If I'm writing rough notes, I'll scribble out a mistake. If it's my good ones, I'll cut a little square of paper (if it's lined, it has to be aligned properly) and glue it over the mistake. It's much less conspicuous (a little time consuming though, but if I'm studying I at least want to do things properly!

5. I used to wear builder's boots with EVERYTHING. My moments of crowning glory (or biggest baistees, if you look at it another way) were wearing said boots with a lengha on one occasion, and with a churidar pyjama on another. Although this phase ended ages ago, I still have my rep - so if I'm dressed up or whatever at a party, 4 out of 5 people will demand to see what shoes I'm wearing.

6. Things I am freaked out by: large quantities of beads with large holes, and dried lavender (both look like millions of little EYES); the noise of someone scratching polyester, especially in the form of tights; straight long hair viewed from the back (I feel like the owner will turn round and their face will be the same length as their hair); the top-down ketchup bottle being top up; and tomatoes. They taste icky.

7. I love the smell of nail varnish remover and permanent markers. I think that makes me a potential junkie.

8. If you take me to a park, chances are I will embarrass you. I am prone to swinging on monkey bars, climbing up trees, hanging about on climbing frames, and doing pseudo-somersaults on the bars that hold up the swings. Rope-swinging is the bomb, man! I'm pretty psyched about maybe inshAllah please going here sometime :)

9. I am missing a knuckle on my right hand. When I make a fist with my right hand, there's a little dimple where my last knuckle ridge should be. For some reaon this means I can't make my pinky touch my other fingers my hand is flat - and more embarrassingly, my pinky often sticks out daintily like I'm drinking a tiny invisible cup of tea when I'm doind something undainty, like driving. Or typing, I just noticed that. Hey, it's also a centimetre shorter than my other pinky, check that out.

(lawl missing Knuckles. Yes I'm a geek haha)

10. Sometimes I have a little commentary running through my head, like "She approached the computer and pressed the on switch. As she waited for it to start up, she propelled herself around the small room on her chair. This soon proved to be a bad idea, as her bruised knees showed. She noticed the computer had loaded. Clicking on her name to open her account, she deliberated about which email account to check first. Then, she-" ARGH. It's incredibly mundane but once you start doing it it's almost impossible to stop. It's like having a horribly catchy but annoying song stuck in your head ALL DAY.

And yes, clearly I should never be a writer :)

Man. Now I don't know who to tag! Errr... can I just say I tag anyone who reads this? HAHA THAT MEANS YOU! Comment and tell me you've done it!

You Are What You Eat

2007-04-14T00:13:00.000+01:00

Been thinking about food lately:

Surah Abasa, 24-32:

So let man look at his food,
That We pour forth water in abundance,
And We split the earth in clefts,
And We cause therein the grain to grow,
And grapes and clover plants
And olives and date-palms,
And gardens, dense with many trees,
And fruits and herbage,
A provision and benefit for you and your cattle.

And then feeling guilty about junk food and food miles. This is basically the damage you cause to the environment if you're having your food flown over from the other side of the globe. Apparently the pollution caused by flying one small punnet of strawberries over from New Zealand is equal to eleven school runs.

First thing I thought of was mangoes. My family eagerly awaits mango season every year so that we can get boxes of the juicy little blighters from the Asian fruit shops, and eat em as they are or get my mum to make them into kulfi. They're flown in from Pakistan or India, usually. But they taste so goooood...

So I talked to my sister about it and we decided that we could have our one vice (and sort of justify it by saying they were probably shipped over rather than flown as such), if we balanced out other things by buying the rest of our fruit and veggies from local farmers' markets, or at least making sure it was produced in the country.

But then they go and say the farmers might be conning you!

And what about our meat? When you buy halal, you don't really get the choice if you want your chicken organic or free-range or from a battery hen pumped full of hormones or whatever. You just get to choose if you want boneless tikka, drumsticks, or minced really.

Unless you go to Abraham's, that is - I've noticed this place mentioned a couple of times in the press over the last few weeks (Times, Metro) mostly because it was nice to see a positive article about something Islamic. The founder, Muhammad Ridha, set up a farm that produces organic, halal meat, saying:

Whenever Allah speaks of what Muslims should eat in the Quran, the word halal is followed by the word “tayyib”, which means something that's good, wholesome and natural. And this has been forgotten – Muslims are eating animals that don't see daylight or a blade of grass and are chucked into wagons and taken off to slaughter.

So hows about trying to eat tayyib as well as halal?

...Maybe after exams, eh :)

Yet I don't even drink tea

2007-04-10T17:17:00.000+01:00

There's about a gazillion of these things on the web, but they still make me laugh:

You know you're desi when

You've got 10 people in a 7 seater, and when someone asks for a ride, you go 'sure, we've got plenty of room'

You put your leftovers in empty ice cream cartons

Someone always starts a game of cricket at any outdoor event, regardless of how much space there is or how many windows can potentially be broken.

You call an older lady you never met before 'aunty' and the first thing the aunty asks you is 'where are your parents from?'

You're getting a marriage proposal and the other family sends pictures of both their sons/daughters so you can pick which one you like

Your phone book is falling apart, with crossed out old phone numbers, and arrows pointing to the new phone numbers, and you have to hold it with two hands so none of it fals out.

You go to an auto show and amidst all the Ferraris, Bentley's, and Porsches, you see desi uncles and aunties checking out Honda/Toyota minivans.

If the sale states "limit 6" your mom makes you take 6 more and tells the cashier that you are separate

You go to drop off one person to the airport, but you take 50 extra people with you.

You arrive late at every party.

You have a panic attack when you finally relieve yourself on the toilet, and then begin searching for the lota, but cant find it

You go to a restaurant with a group of people and fight endlessly over who gets to pay the bill... then tip $1

I found this when snooping through the links to my last quiz. It was up in searches for stuff like:
what's an average height of a 24 years indian girl
desi girl gora
husband wants me to only wear dresses
how to tell that you are desi
you are desi if
3 course meals asian
don't marry a desi girl

o.o

Incidentally, one of the definitions of 'desi' in UrbanDictionary is "In Australian slang, a term for an utter fool or a term of abuse for general idiotic behaviour. Also used to describe someone when inebriated. Derived from the name Desmond which is considered an old fashioned name often ridiculed in the manner of Nigel". Heheh.

So anyways, new quiz!
How Pakistani Are You?!

This is actually mark II, because the first time I made it the scoring system was all wrong and everybody who took it got more than 65%. And I refuse to believe I'm 65% Pakistani! So yeah. Let me know how you do! 34% here

This version is called 'first class number one' because I like saying that. My dad actually says first class sometimes, like when someone phones from Pakistan and asks how we're all doing. I used to get confused and think he was talking about posting something. Then again, we're talking about the same kid who used to think their dad took his moustache off before going to sleep...

Silent sunlight, welcome in*

2007-04-05T16:25:00.000+01:00

Do you know what that is? (okay apart from a weirdly cropped landscape and part of my roof maybe)

It's BLUE SKY. In Scotland! In April! I think my head's going to pop...

But really, come on. This time last year I was making snow men (well, cats). How am I supposed to study when it's so sunny it feels like the best summer holidays ever? If I fail all my exams, I'm going to blame global warming.

*I've still to get around to the 'There is work I must now begin' part...

Whiter than White People

2007-03-27T20:14:00.001+01:00

Sorta related to my quiz, I was talking to a friend recently about marriage and whatnot, and about crazy aunties' crazy expectations despite their sons being unemployed wastes-of-space (being gentle here). I told her the one about the aunty who called up, and when I answered the phone shouted "WHO'S THAT?!" (or punjabi equivalent) in my ear. Next time that happens I plan to fake interference, shout 'hello?' a few times, and hang up. Or maybe just hang up in the first place?

And the 'religious' aunty who called up and without asking a single thing about faith or personality, said no on the basis of height. Then asked about another sister, to see if she would do.

I heard about the family who have turned down loads of girls for their son, because they're 'looking for a pharmacist'. They want her to work in the family business, see? It seemed they'd gotten mixed up with the whole 'daughter-in-law' versus 'employee' thing.

It was a fun chat. Then she told me about the family who had made multiple visits to interrogate her sister, but when they finally brought the son, he was short, and overweight, and "so, sooo dark! I mean, proper kala..."

I sort of gave her a look, and she pulled out a shovel and started digging herself in deeper - "Not like YOU! YOU have beautiful skin! I mean, it's darker, but it's still NICE! But this guy was so dark, seriously, he could've been black. And he had pimples! And..."

---

I don't know if being dark-skinned has made me super-sensitive, but in-built racism is one of the things I hate about hate Pakistani culture. The mentality just sucks. Kids learn their prejudices from an early age, and they don't seem to fade much, they just get masked and pop up at odd moments.

The Ladybird Book of Pakistani Kids' Racism:

"That baji's not nice. She's BROWN. Not YELLOW like ME."

"Baji, why aren't you a MUSLIM colour?"

(on being asked why she picked the piggy toy) - "It was the fairest one!"

"I want to drink milk! Mum said if I drink my milk it'll make me nice and fair!"

(on looking at a random photo, pointing out the darkest girl there) - "I don't LIKE that one!"

"Ewwwwwwww. Your face is a dirty colour!"

And lots, lots more. People are always saying how kids are so honest and innocent and stuff. Really though, they're just irritating a lot of the time from about 7 until 15. Maybe older. I don't know.

Girls my age aren't much different either. They might cover up an aversion to dark skin (unless it's revealed by making some comment referring to black people as 'kalay' or 'jameekay'), but that fair=good mentality is still there. Like when somebody has a baby. Often the obligatory 'S/he's so cute!' comment will be coupled with 'S/he's so white!', leaving the mother beaming. That might not seem like a biggie, but I can never imagine someone even saying 'S/he's so dark!', never mind anyone else taking it as a compliment.

Never mind just babies. Whenever I've heard anyone complaining about their bad complexion, they're reassured by someone else saying something along the lines of "don't be silly, you have great skin! You're so fair!".

Other Pakistani girls will inevitably delight when someone mistakes them for Arab or mixed race. Or else they'll pop in coloured contacts to try and promote some kind of ambiguity over their race.

Okay, so it's probably part of our love of the unusual. But it's also part of a bigger obsession with trying to lighten everything. Get hazel coloured contacts because dark eyes aren't good enough. Dye your hair lighter, or at least get highlights. Bleach facial hair into oblivion (maybe that one's just to save the bother of waxing). Avoid sun tans at all costs. Use skin-lightener daily.

Fair and Lovely makes girls into beauty models! (here's an Arabic version)

And men into film stars! (the sort who get the girl, whoo)

It's required even to be a successful sports reporter - make your family proud!

This one's the best though - for fairness you can measure, you even get a colour guage to see how much lighter you've become:

And not that it's only one product either: Olay can also guarantee you whiteness!

In a similar vein, someone brought my mum this neem soap from Pakistan to help with her sensitive skin. Here's part of the instructions: "Your skin is delicate and live. The Ultra violet rays of sun do not only darken your skin, but also cause several skin diseases."

Imagine that. Not only being dark, but being dark and diseased!

If you're looking for weird stuff though, Pakistan is where it's at. There are people who saw MJ's amazing black-white transformation and said 'I wants me some o that vitiligo/surgery/bleaching too!'... Last time I went, we stayed with an aunt, who kept telling me and my sister to go wash our faces. Being 7 or 8 at the time, we obeyed (we were good kids like that). Every time. Seriously, we'd just get finished drying off, come back into the room, and get sent back into the bathroom to wash 'properly this time'. After a few rounds of this, my mum had to explain that we were meant to be this colour, it wasn't dirt.

>.>

In Pakistan etc though, you can sort of understand it. They have remnants of the caste system, not to mention Bollywood, to contend with. It's when the same attitudes are imported out of those countries and don't seem to disappear that it drives me nuts. I know people who say they'd never be allowed, or want to, marry outside their caste. I know girls who'd use 'kalee' or 'black' as an insult. Dark-hating/fair-loving seems to be in many ethnicities. How long is this going to take to filter out?

From Surah Rum, Ayat 22

"And among His Signs is the creation of the heavens and the earth; and the variations in your languages and your colours. Verily in that are Signs for those who know."

From Prophet Muhammad's (saw) Last Sermon

"All mankind is from Adam and Eve, an Arab has no superiority over a non-Arab nor a non-Arab has any superiority over an Arab; also a white has no superiority over black nor a black has any superiority over white, except by piety and good action."

---

So anyway. My dad wants to organise a family trip to Pakistan in the summer.

Goin' to the Chapel...

2007-03-19T21:20:00.001+01:00

I got kinda bored so I made a quiz. Try it:

How marriageable are you?!

Lets you know how you score with the rishta aunties. Highly scientific, first class number one. No really, it's incredibly accurate! I got hold of the Secret Code of Rishta Aunties Who Come Round Your House and Are Generally Inconvenient, and based my questions off it. If you've never met a rishta aunty, this quiz may just tell you why.

Awesome sauce!

In case you're wondering, I score 28%. In my own quiz!

Bookylicious

2007-03-03T21:01:00.000+01:00

Recent reading (some of which totted up some healthy library fines):

This book reeked. It was basically a horrible American self-help guide re-wrapped as a novel. With some weird ass cult theology thrown in. Struggled to get through it.

This was pretty good. The atmosphere kind of reminded me of this Annie Proulx story we were forced to study for 3 years in high school (she also wrote Brokeback Mountain, I think o.o ). It was very quiet and moody, and ultimately depressing. And I felt like there were things happening under the surface that I wasn't quite getting. But it was a good read all the same.

(By the way, when you search 'ugly' on Amazon.com there are 169,876 results. WRITERS ARE SO EMO).

The memoirs of Constance Briscoe were hard to get through, like A Child Called It. What's up with the mothers in these books, are they evil black hearted witched for a reason? There's a lot of violence in here, but there's other stuff that gets to you. Like the fact that every year at Christmas, Constance (called Clare at home) would get one of her old toys ('Oh. It was Dollie again') handed to her as a present while her siblings would get something new. Or her mother's reaction to her school photo ('Lord, she so ugly. Ugly. Ugly. Sweet Jesus, meek and kind, why have you given me swine?') But the way the author managed to pull herself out of her abusive family through sheer determination and hard work is inspirational. Actually, it makes you feel inadequate. She managed to get fantastic grades and go to university to study law, while holding down 3 jobs at a time, all while her mother made every effort to thwart her? That is some woman.

I don't know why I read this. I found it almost impossible to empathise. Plus, the book made me feel nauseous. Her descriptions had that effect.

An account of her time in Iraq, from the author of 'Bookseller of Kabul'. It was interesting to read about the backstage workings of journalism, but I think that it would have been more interesting to hear more about Iraqi individuals and families than her personal account - or maybe that's just what I'd come to expect after reading Bookseller. She descibed the difficulties in getting anyone to talk anything but the party line before the regime fell.

In any case, she was a pretty fair author, showing the conflict with her instinctive curiosity that made her want to stay in the country during the war, and the fear and common-sense that made her want to leave. She was also critical of both Saddam's regime and the American led invasion. Some of what she reported made my blood boil, but that's true of pretty much anything about the Iraqi war.

I got bored and didn't bother finishing this.

I've just started this Girl Blog From Iraq, but it's a great read. Really clear and articulate writing, can be funny at times too. Again though, the situation and politics are anger-making.

Fin.

Choo Choooo

2007-02-15T13:14:00.000+01:00

Overheard on the bus today:

"A second toilet?! Round here a second toilet is just stickin yer a** out the window!"

Ewwwww-snigger moment. But the the ned who said that rolled an empty budweiser bottle at me so he wasn't cool anymore. Wait, are neds ever cool? I also had a rubberband pinged at me in the library. I seem to inspire projectile violence in people, I'm just great like that.

---

Funny how stuff you expect to be really exciting and fun never really is. Like practising local anaesthetic - you'd think that'd be all like 'OMG you stabbed me in the face, my eeeeeeeeeeeye!!' sort of thing, but it turned out okay and everybody's eyes were fine. And my real first patient was entirely friendly and normal and I managed not to aspirate her face off or anything - although I'm not sure she enjoyed my version of a scale and polish.

But then a normal visit to an orthodontist can lead to him referring you to the oral surgeon, who's all like 'Hi, I'm going to YANK OUT ALL YOUR WISDOM TEETH in a mess of BLOOD AND GORE like in a SLASHER MOVIE, muahahaha!' (I'm paraphrasing here). He was kind enough to schedule the surgery for the summer holidays though, so that I don't have to take time off uni. Darnit.

I've never been in hospital before for anything. Except birth, but that doesn't really count. I've never had general anaesthetic before either. TV has taught me it should be all fun and woozy, yaay.

Orthodontics I have had before though, and TV has been good enough not to try and glamourise it any way. It's painful and humiliating but at least you know going to be painful and humiliating. And protracted, if your orthodontist decides that a 10 year old with giant overlapping teeth is a good person to experiment on, but hey the experiment didn't work and now your teeth are still sticky-ooty! He didn't give me fixed ortho which I probably should have had, and tried out removable torture devices made of plastic and metal instead. Oh the hilarity of me trying to say 'six snakes slurped up slimy sausages'! Primary school kids find it hard to get over, it seems.

Then when we 'finished' treatment like 5 years later, and my teeth were better but not straight, he said it was because of my ethnicity. Bah humbug, I say. Which is, basically, why I'm now getting train tracks. I get to look like Ugly Betty this time!

Except I'll be the real deal, not a pretty girl wearing all the ugly-gear. I think I'll try and work the look without the glasses though, I'm done with specs. And I'll have a hijab instead of greasy hair (I'm past that stage too, except when bathing is too much effort).

Hmm, hijabi Ugly Betty.

Betty models a lovely creation from TheHijabShop

Haha! Fear my mad Paint skillz!

Warning

2007-02-06T19:59:00.000+01:00

I've been struggling about whether or not to blog this, because it's something I really want to forget as soon as possible. But I keep remembering it anyway, so I might as well write about it. Urgh.

After class on Friday I went with a few other friends to visit a friend and check out her flat (which rules, by the way. She also rules. She ordered pizzas in and everything, and she has a cool accent. Anyway.) I kinda lost track of time, and ended up leaving later than I wanted to. It was only about 7pm - but this is the violent crime capital of Europe, and being in the city centre on a Friday night isn't usually classed as a bright idea if you can avoid it. Mind you, you might like staggering binge drinkers and junkies with knives. It could be your thing. Who knows.

I tend to be a very paranoid as it is. If I'm walking down the street after dark, I mentally note people's descriptions in case I need to report them to the police or something (I also do this when I'm bored. It's fun, but I've found people rarely have scars on their left cheeks.) I also tend to check the time if I see something suspicious, like a balaclava'd guy covered in blood pushing someone into a van (that's a for example). That way I'll be useful to the people at Crimewatch.

So anyway, I tried to remember all that safety stuff people tell you. I walked down well lit streets. I chose a busy(ish) bus stop. A lot of people were on their phones there. Then I got confused - are you meant to talk on the phone if you feel unsafe to show creeps that someone is waiting for you, or are you meant to hide your phone in case you get mugged for it? I called home anyway, to tell meine familie where I was. They were worried. I said I wouldn't be long. We hung up.

I decided to check out the people at the bus stop to be aware of potential creeps. There were a couple of guys in tracksuits, and a few girls with shopping bags. 2 of them were on the phone. Not creepy. I looked to my right. There was a pudgy old man standing there, a couple of feet away from me. He was exposing himself. His hands were busy. Definitely creepy. I backed away in shock. I think I was about to start screaming. But he'd already run away.

I was pretty scared and freaked out. I didn't realise but I was still backing away. I walked into someone. That made me jump. I asked one of the girls at the bus stop if they'd seen him. They hadn't. I told them he was a skanky old flasher. They were shocked. We laughed. I got on the first bus that came, even though it would mean I'd have to walk a couple of blocks to get home. I texted my sister and a friend the same message - OMG FREAKY OLD MAN AT BUS STOP. My friend texted back and made me laugh. We told each other to be careful. My mum phoned a couple of seconds later - I felt bad for getting her worried, but I was grateful for someone to talk to. There was an old Nigerian lady on the bus singing hymns to herself. This was more freaky than calming.

I had to tell my family what happened, and they got freaked out on my behalf. They told me I should have called home to get picked up instead of taking the bus. True. They said they'd try and help me forget it by not mentioning it (ever). This has proved difficult. I mean, I feel like I've forgotten it, but now when I'm walking down the street I start panicking when I see old white men. Like my sister when she sees a dog, I'll swerve to avoid them, or even cross the street to avoid them. Did I just compare old white men to dogs? YES I DID.

The moral of the story is: please stay safe. Avoid old men. Take self defence classes or something. Dang.

Conversations

2007-02-03T18:26:00.000+01:00

Outside Ze Lecture Theatre

R: extended and impassioned speech about the greatness of Bollywood movies

McP: But Pirates of the Caribbean is the best film EVAR!

H: It is! I haven't seen the second one though

R: You know how Orlando saw Kiera kiss Jack Sparrow? Well, I heard in the third one there's going to be trouble.

H: Wait a minute. He threatened her with a shovel?!!?!

*cue hysterical laughing*

---

In Ze Prayer Room

R: Yaay, I got the green jaan namaz!

E: Is that your favourite one?

R: Yeah. It smells so good!

E & McP: *hysterically laughing*

R: You can't help smelling it when you're in sajda...

Ants in Me Pants

2007-01-27T20:24:00.000+01:00

Random things of randomness:

1.
I probably shouldn't say random so much, it sounds stupid. Also 'stuff' and 'junk'. I think whatnot is fine for just now though.

2.
When I was walking through town the other day when a man with a clipboard walked up to me (accosted me!) and asked, "Excuse me ma'am, what makes you wiggle and jiggle?!".

I'd already classed him as a Gouranga - minus the weather-inappropriate-sari - so I walked away saying "y'what now?", but he he just followed me and asked what music I was into. I had to walk faster to get away from him, partly because he could be an utter weirdo, but mainly because I resent any implication that I jiggle.

3.
I keep getting vowels stuck in my head. I'm doing something mindless, then I realise I'm sitting thinking 'AEIOU. A. E. I. O. U.' over and over. I end up saying it and writing it too. It's freaking me out a bit.

4.
I miss high school maths.

5.
My physio told me I have chondromalacia patellae. This means I am destined to keep walking up and down stairs like some kind of three-legged cow-duck hybrid until my kneecaps like my leg bones a little better. Unless the pysio was just fobbing me off to get rid of me, in which case I just walk upstairs like that for funsies.

...

Here's some photos because uploading stuff seems fun right now:

The first one is my desktop picture because I thought, if I'm going to have a generic nature picture there, it should at least be my generic nature picture. Also, orange makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

I also started making jewellery recently. My sister can get tiny beads and weave them together with tiny needles and bits of string to make awesome bracelets and rings and whatnot, so she's going to be selling some (minus the whatnot, that's a bit personal) at a stall at an Isoc event in a month or so. I'm kinda supplementing her with simple stuff to help her out, and because putting beads onto wire is something I'm capable of. And it's fun.

Window reflections are so in right now.

Ultimate PMS Cure

2007-01-20T17:18:00.000+01:00

Chocolate Brownies

7oz sugar
4oz butter
3oz self-raising flour
1.5oz cocoa
2 eggs
2oz chocolate buttons (white and milk chocolate)
1oz chopped walnuts
1 tsp vanilla

1. Whisk the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy.

2. Whisk in the eggs and vanilla until smooth.

3. Sift in the flour and cocoa. Fold/whisk til smooth.

4. Add the chocolate buttons (plus any extra. You can never have enough buttons!) and walnuts, mix.

5. Dump the mixture into a greased, lined baking dish. Bake at 170 degrees for ~20 minutes, or until adequately brownie-ish looking.

6. Eat!!

Alternatively:
Chocolate Icing.

1 tub 'Betty Crocker's Premium Chocolate Fudge Frosting'

1. As step 6 above.

Okay, so it won't cure PMS. But it'll at least treat the symptoms.

2007-01-17T23:19:00.000+01:00

It's very sad that Shilpa Shetty is getting bullied in Big Brother by trailer trash. Yes, she is enduring the most mortifying experience of her life. But really, judging by all the support she seems to have, she'll probably win this thing and the rest of 'em will get their comeuppance, etc. So is there really any need for MPs to get involved, and for her supporters to start burning effigies?

way to make an intelligible protest, guys

That seems to be the answer to everything on the subcontinent. George Bush is an ass? Burn an effigy! The pope said some rubbish? Burn an effigy! Some Danish guys drew offensive cartoons so they could watch the effigy-burning reaction? Well, burn an effigy!

Where do they get them all from anyway? Are there specialist shops, or are they common enough to sell along with the chapatti flour and tinned tomatoes? The might sell them with a range of commonly used masks, like Tony Blair and George Bush and Endemol bosses. I bet the guys at these protests are skiving off work, too. Their boss will see them on the news, and call them up about it, and maybe they'll get fired.

But that's okay, because they can just stage another protest, right?

Quit Yo Blabber

2007-01-12T21:49:00.000+01:00

I'm so sick of debates. They go on forever and nobody ever changes their viewpoint, except maybe to take whoever's opposing them down a peg or two in their estimation. It seems impossible to get anything at all organised when people are too busy debating what degree of haram every minute detail is, to actually organise the event.

It's got to the stage where someone can say something like 'it's haram for a woman to go out without everything but ONE EYE covered!!' or 'if you diss Islam you'll get turned into a GIANT FISH!!!', [has that video been taken down or what?] and I'll just splutter for a bit and give up. It's probably a relief for people around me, but it's just experience I think. There's no reasoning with some people! *dramatic sigh*

Can't remember where I read this, but "opinions are like belly-buttons. Everybody has them, but most of them don't hold much water."

And some of them are full of LINT.