Oh, The Things I Write About

This Is Nothing But A Summer Jam…No, It Is Not.

This is me writing a note to the season. 

Dear Summer,

I feel that we are not really connecting, and as the sun’s delicate caresses increase my chances of having wonderful skin cancer (Woot Woot?) let me break this awful news to you: I never really liked you, and secretly hated all the heat that you forced upon me (Assault?) No, I don’t want to go “This is nothing but a summer jam, We’re gonna party as much as we can”  or “We don’t even have to try, it’s always a good time!” with anyone. Vomit. I will not be pulled into this debauchery a.k.a extreme Haraam things. Nopes, Sorry.

While others try to find an excuse to display all sorts of gross nudity, and abhorrent fashion fads that my poor brain can’t stand. Case in point: Hi, we’re some random shitty summer lawn who are trying to pass off as TEH MOST AWESOME THING AFTAAH KITTEHS AND UNICORNS AND U.P.S! Buy us, women of this third world country! We will hunt you for the next 6  months!

Don’t let your babies see what they do to seemingly normal women.

This is not a woman but you got the point.

Sweat. No, I don’t want to see anyone’s sweat covered shirt or  sweat laced armpits, or the lovely stench that wafts towards me which makes me retch or want to undergo a surgery to remove my olfactory senses. Seriously, the latter. Thanks, but no, thanks. Every time somebody raises their arms, an innocent squirrel dies somewhere.

We have no electricity, and as much as I like to enjoy this rustic, 18th century feel; I would rather waste precious energy and sit in an air-conditioned room because of you.

Not-so-much-love and I-like-winter,


P.S: I can always eat ice-cream in the winter, and still be able to Gasp! Wut? enjoy it.

P.P.S: Others can go summer jammin’ for all hellz I do not care!

Literature And Other Musings

The Unbecoming Of Mara Dyer – Book Review

Mara Dyer doesn’t think life can get any stranger than waking up in a hospital with no memory of how she got there.
It can.
She believes there must be more to the accident she can’t remember that killed her friends and left her mysteriously unharmed.
There is.
She doesn’t believe that after everything she’s been through, she can fall in love.
She’s wrong.

First of all the cover is awesome, I think it achieved the eerie, mysterious quality that the book was hoping to embody but failed in an epic manner.

Now, back to the content in the book. I wanted to like this book, particularly because the first scene was gripping, and tense, but thanks to the author, I was forced to revise my opinion. The entire book was a really bad teen horror movie (are there any good movies in this genre? I don’t think so) and in the mid, I was like “Okay, what the…This is sort of like a watered down, drippy teen version of Inception happening sans all the awesomeness and the HOMG beauty of  Joseph Gordon-Levitt

Mara Dyer (DY-ER, Geddit? Please guess the rest) wakes up from a coma in the hospital wing. She is confused as to what had happened that had led her here. She gets to know that her friends died in an accident but she had somehow survived. From here, Mara slowly unfolds into a person teetering at the edge of insanity. She loses chunks of time, imagines situations and people that are not real, sees and hears dead people. Things get so bad for her that her parents consider sending her to an asylum.

Yeah, I didn’t hate Mara in the beginning and I hoped, my sentiments will stay this way but hellz to the no, of course, the dashing hero of the novel had to sashay in and dazzle the protagonist so she’s reduced to a blubbering, swooning pile of idiot.  Also get this: he is scorching hot, a bad boy, arrogant, has a harem of women, obviously richer than Bill Gates and…he’s British. 

He’s perfect! Apart from being a jackass, but that’s okay. He’s hot, amiright?
True, he became much better after a 100 pages or so and I almost stopped hating him but he’s nowhere coming near my “Awesome characters I adore *heart heart*” list. P.S: He also has a super power. Be ashamed of yourselves, mere mortals.

Mara just practically wrenched out her heart and gave it to this hot guy, Noah, as soon as she sees him. (If that would have been literal, this book would have been awesome. heh) She did try to be a smart ass and witty though, but then she said this and I was like: OH. GOD. Control yourself, voomun.

What could I say? Noah, despite you being an asshole, or maybe because of it, I’d like to rip off your clothes and have your babies. Don’t tell.

No. Just NO. I think we need to put Noah in a Burkah/veil his face. Also I wanted to impale Mara after Jamie (her only friend) tells her that Noah hooked up with his sister (for a very stupid, revengeful reason) and when she confronts Noah about this, he admits it.
And Mara said:

That’s right. She changes the subject. Hey, why talk about such unpleasant but crucial stuff that can jeopardize our weird relationship, right?

Throughout the novel, Mara seemed to spiral out of her control, and being a reader I felt out of sync because nothing was real anymore. You couldn’t guess if this thing happened or not. Mara’s brother is kidnapped, and she and Noah go down to the creek to save him. There are dead alligators, broken bones and lots of mud. I didn’t know if it was happening in real time or it was a figment of Mara’s cray-cray imagination, if this was what the author intended then congrats, it worked!

Her family is nice, I liked them. The characters in her school were painfully forgettable, honestly, I don’t even remember any of the names or their roles except that two students tried to torment Mara because yeah, she had the attention of the godly Noah. Pass. Also, there is her  bisexual, Jewish, Black male with dreadlocks and a tongue ring friend, Jamie (Dang, is this the author’s way of putting diversity in the novel? FAIL) I also managed to like him, and then he disappeared! Seriously, for a good half part of the novel, there was no mention of Jamie as Norma struggled with her sanity and the feeling in her pants for Noah and then when Jamie comes back, it’s just…just lame.

The book was fast paced, I was curious enough to read the entire thing because I wanted to see if Mara will lose all of her shit (the thought was too tempting) The writing wasn’t bad, the characterization brought the whole thing down. Also the author lost focus of the novel by putting all of her attention on the romance. I would have liked to read more about what ails Mara and her super powers but instead we’re treated to this Mara-Noah banter.

The ending! Damn that cliffhanger, I didn’t see that one coming, and now I’m curious enough to pick up the next book to see what happened.

All Your Cakes Are Mine

I Think I Know You From… No, Wait. J.k! I Don’t

This little scene happened a few months back, and out of the blue, I played it again in my head today (Just Kidding, I wrote it down in my journal)
I was in a fancy shmancy restaurant , where the usual visitors appeared to be rich, sulky teenagers coming in for SheeshaI was there for a birthday party, completely unaware (and uncomfortable) with this display of debauchery when suddenly:

Random Guy (rushing inside): Have you seen Anita?

Me (didn’t know who he or Anita was): Yes.

Random Guy: Uff, she’s here already? *looks distraught.

Me: She is really angry.

Random Guy: Crap!

Me: Like I-am-plotting-his-demise-in-the-bathroom-right-now mad. I’m paraphrasing but that’s totally what she said.

Random guy taking the shit.

Random Guy: It wasn’t my damn fault! I can’t believe she’ll over react like this. Yeh Larkiyan b! (These girls!)

Me: I can see why she liked you. You’re a total charmer.

Random Guy: I know right?!

Me: And such smarts too. I would give you a hug. But we’re Muslims, and you’re not my brother or husband, so No.

Oh, The Things I Write About, The Dreary

Hey,This Healthy Business Is Hard Work. Also No Cake. La Tortura, Maybe?

As most of you, who very kindly read this blog, know that I recently decided to go rogue , stopped eating tasty food that is fried in heart-burning oil – no wait, I still do that , try to live in a more healthy way.

I will name what I’m going through as “The ? Cond-ee-shunz” – because I’m not original, can’t think because I’m fixated at the sight of my fingers   this is my blog and I can name anything in any way I want. Ha!

Caused by prolonged deprivation of food laden with sins (also known as calories), being subjected to the sight and feel of the treadmill and watching T.V shows with stupid names like: “The Cupcake Wars”, “MasterChef”,Man Vs. Food” [ NOT for those who think it’s about a man/woman trying to beat their cravings to a pulp], Food Paradise etc etc. I curse ye to a painful…

Symptoms include: Rage, cramps in legs, buttocks, other strange places due to profuse walking/running, yelling inappropriate things in public, hating Nigella Lawson and other chefs on the food channel (which should be banned for obscene content), expert command in screaming out creative profanities, inexplicable connection with the participants of the Biggest Loser, displays of exaggerated emotions (WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THE CAKE IS GONE?! I…I only had just one tiny slice of it. HOW CAN YOU ANIMALS EAT TEH ENTIRE CAKE IN ONE DAY?! *tries to pour coffee into her eyes out of pure horror and cake-famine*)

Treatment: patience, going out and shaking what yo’ mamma gave you [read: exercise], making bets with young kids that you can totally outrun them, and then winning the bet without breaking a sweat! Sweet! and also very therapeutic plus gorging on the healthy stuff that will purify your soul and make you feel supahmegaawesome. Rawr.


P.S: My internet connection is being a pain in the tush. Again. Please excuse the lack of posts.

All Your Cakes Are Mine

There Is A Total Lack Of Serious Here – Seriously

One of the may-jah dilemmas of my life is that no one in my family takes me seriously.
Case 1: When I hit 12, and decided that to get some attention around this house, I needed to put my raging hormones into good use. So whenever, something went against me, I used to storm off to my room and slam the door shut – and lock it, and then announce to the world (my family+ neighbors + creepy guys[possible rapists] smoking outside our street) that I was never unlocking the door. For some unimaginable reason, my sisters always needed to use the loo/bathroom at that exact  moment, and I’m scribbling furious notes on a piece of paper and slipping it through the crack underneath the door telling them that I’m about to dunk my head in the toilet and end my life because no one listens to me, and you’ll have to hold it in because yeah, hi, all of my (dead) hair would be floating in there . And they are all like, You are so disgusting – people do gross things in there. Have fun in your afterlife hanging out with all the poo and urine and stuff.
Which totally makes sense, right? And then I’ll lose my mind and be all whatever but they’re still yelling and banging on the door and I’m like Jesus Christ, if there was a zombie goat invasion, these guys won’t even make it to the next street with their small bladders.

Anyway, back to present times, last night I suggested that since it’s totes Mount Lava here plus vacation time, we should go somewhere other than the park. These were the responses I got:

I totally agree. let’s go to Dubai.

Dubai? With all the heat? No way!  let’s go to one of the Scandinavian countries. I’ve been dying to go there. Does anyone know anything about how illegal human smuggling works? We can definitely stuff Fatty in a large suitcase or something. . .

But Wait. I mean, we can always use the money from your secret bank account in Switzerland to go there. Besides human smuggling sounds like hard work, and I’m not carrying the suitcase. 

This is such a good idea! Call the private jet and let’s go there – tomorrow!!!

Baffling, right? I’m totally insulted by this display.