Hundreds of teachers from Government Schools in Lahore, have had a shift in their job descriptions.

They now, line up beside the Sugar Distribution Trucks & note down the names, nic numbers & the Addresses of the consumers buying their 2 kgs of Sugar. Their students, do come to school everyday but instead of studying, perfect their Origami plan techniques.

Gov. Punjab, Mr. Salman Taseer when asked to comment on this, blinked, sighed & asked ‘To is main kia harj hai?’

____________________________________

Isnt it amazing that 96.91% of the beneficiaries of NRO belong to Sindh. MQM & PPP ofcourse.

Dear Altaf Hussain wiped his slate clean of 74 cases including murder, attempt to murder, kidnappings, riots & more.

Dr. Faroq Sattar, who himself boasts of various cases of the same nature, actually had the nerve to go on air live and proudly proclaim ‘Hum ny humesha adaton say insaaf hasil kia hai’.

~Sigh~

Don’t you just love out leaders?

Strange days.

I’m getting an appointment with a neurologist ’cause I’ve had a killing  headache for the last five days – every single night – I toss & turn, trying to find a comfortabel position for the throbbing head, wake up with the head still pounding , spend the work day rubbing my temples – squinting at the screen with blurred eyes & by the end of the day look worse than a Raccoon.

I thought I had sinus for ages – but the steam hasnt helped in a long long time. Migraine has been another answer, but after months of taking the meds only to suffer with increased frequency, I’ve figured I need another check up.

A. surprised me with a new phone yesterday. And it is unbelievably cute.

Now if only the headache would let me be, I can finally get around to copying songs and make optimum use of the walkman phone.

Why is it, that so many men, who claim to have no issues with their wives, go out of their way to have another girl hanging from their sleeves?

What perverted joy do stupid, middle aged men GET from having these so called ‘girl-friends’ – who benefit from their uber romantic / cheesy talk. Despite the fact that they married out of choice – despite the fact that they ADMIT that the wife hasn’t done anything beyond getting pissed at their extra marital affairs. Despite everything – I stay at office late every day and watch all these guys, come back, call up different gals, and get that cheesy, zonked out expression on their faces. The joy of chatting up forbidden fruit, eh?

They always go home with regret – throwing around jokes about Home Ministers who are born dictators and are making their lives hell.

Huh?

You flirt, you date, spend hours chatting up random girls, oogle at every passing gal & think your wife is a dictator cause she ASKS why you are out late every single day.

WHY can’t they be romantic with their wives? WHY cant they call the WIVES up from office and whisper sweet nothings?

I think I’m going to enter a I hate men phase again.

It is cold today – cold enough for extra long extra thick pull overs. I love sleeves that extended way beyond necessary and gather around in the perfect warm bundle around your wrists.

I have absolutely nothing to say and I’m beginning to think that this NaBloPoMo was a very stupid idea. Why should I have something to say everyday anyways?

I think I’m going to write a novel – and not the silly kind. Somday atleast.

I like the term anjunman-satish-e-bahmiand I find it funny to know many people who fit the description.

My nose & my toes do NOT get warm – despite socks & shoes & vigorous rubbing. And it is so not cool.

I’m happy today J

Prime Minister of Pakistan, Yousuf Raza Gillani, addressing the media at Dera Ismail Khan, IDP camp: “The President himself, has offered to give me back the power s of  58-2(b), but why should I take it? I don’t have to dissolve the assembly.”

And how does one explain to a Prime Minister that when it comes to constitutional amendments & rights, there is more at stake than their personal love affair with the presidency.

I wish, this is all it took. But great thought nonetheless.

The rain has finally turned the weather chilly. But not enough for the Gas heaters to be out. I wish winters would just hurry up and come. Even though, I happen to be one of the people who sit in a corner shivering when others roam around with sleeves rolled up.

But still, I wish winter would hurry up and come.

The colleagues would once again make jokes about ‘Karachi wallahs’ who go for walks from office and come back with a bounty of crisp, colored leaves –  but what else would you expect from someone, who is witnessing real fall only for the 3^rd time?

You don’t have falls in Karachi – you don’t even have springs – or monsoon. The summers stretch from mild to extreme to mild again- the winters creep in and creep out in a matter of three months.

Fall, for me is a novelty.

It has taken me a year to figure but this is the perfect cooking weather. So the  weekends have been totally about food. Soups – fresh n Knorr ones. Pasta, laden with fresh tomato sauce, sprinkled with cheese, browned in the oven for a couple of minutes. Spice!  Old faithful, tomato cut rehashed with a kari twist –  bagharay chawal with extra zeera & peppercorns-  Chicken, brined overnight & roasted with nothing but salt, pepper & garlic.

Brined, oven roasted chicken – probably the easiest & the best chicken dish I’ve made so far.  I KNOW I haven’t cooked anything, which made me open the fridge about ten times, just to take a whiff of the heavenly smell coming from the brine. I mean, this thing has RAW CHICKEN soaking in it for hours & hours! HOW can it smell this good?

Haye… I’m in love with my own cooking.

Salary delayed for time indefinite.

Was mailing the MD & the CEO – but the immediate boss saw the mail & advised me not to send it cause it seems like I am protesting. Told him I AM protesting. To which he says; ‘ But why? Sirf app ki salary to nahi hai, pooray Pakistan main, kisi BUreau main, kisi ki transfer nahi hoi, aur kisi nay to aisay protest nahi kia. protest bas phone pay kartay hain.’

Everyone else, who was a minute back campaigning for a joint signed fax asking for explanations, smiled sheepishly, and agreed with the boss . telling me to chill, cause afterall, it is not gong to make a difference is it! And why should you make a negative impression of yourself by ASKING for salary!!!

WHY should anybody protest afterall? We work 10/12 hours 6 days a week at this channel only so, the accounts can smile when asked for salary and say ‘Allah par tawakkal karain, aa jaye gi kabhi na kabhi’.  And at this, the people who call themselves seasoned journalists and pretend to stand up for the rights of the world laugh their goofy embarrassed laughs and say ‘Kia kar saktay hain, contract main yeh to nahi likha tha k salary kis date ko transfer hogi.’

Hubby’s khala went off for Hajj yesterday & MIL called us from her place to pick her up on our way back home. Once there, the dinner was a compulsion. But the surprise came, when suddenly a ‘plan’ emerged to see the departing couple off at the airport.

Since three families had come from out of town to see them off we of course had no excuse not to go along with the plan – But then, things went a little crazy.

In the Ideal World: We would have drove behind them to the airport – seen the insanely long queue of cars outside & decided waving at them and texting ‘bye, have a great haj’ would have sufficed.

In a not-so-ideal world: We would have braved the insanely long queue –jumped from the car in the drop lane, hugged them a harried/hurried good bye & left for home.

In the real world: We braved the insanely long queue, found a parking in a parking lot that seemed so full that getting out of the car took guts, walked what seemed like a kilometer without a sweater or a shawl, saw the airport resembling some thakka hoa train ka station, waited for the other THREE cars occupants to find parkings and gather around, hugged long, luxurious good byes, watched in horror as all relatives, proceeded through a throng of men to wave them good-bye AFTER they entered the lobby & disappeared – waited, waited, waited – intervened – found out people didn’t like to leave cause they hadn’t switched their cells off, which means they were in the vicinity – realized with dread that at this rate, they’d wait till 4.a.m. which was the departure time – brainstormed for excuses to leave cause hey you CANT leave without an excuse when you live ten minutes from the airport and everyone else who is NOT dying to leave,  lives in a  DFFERENT CITY. Prayed – saw relatives turning and queuing up for final good byes – finally tried to leave – remained stuck in traffic for another half an hour. Reached home at 4:11 a.m – crawled into bed, only to remember that the chicken roast meant for dinner is lying in the car. Got out of warm, warm bed – searched for car keys – went downstairs – collected the Broast – deposited it in the fridge. And slept – fitfully, cause we couldn’t afford to be late to office today.

Today has been spent sneezing, sniffing, coughing & trying very very hard to make sense of what is gong on in office. Sleep deprivation makes my IQ drop to a 50 I think.

This, applies to me on soo many levels.

For two years – I allowed myself to become a moron. I’ve been working – but without motivation. I’ve stopped pursuing all dreams simply cause it takes hard work to make dreams come true. I wanted my marriage to be a break from the grueling schedules & the burning ambition that makes no achievement look like an achievement.

So, for two years I’ve told myself that as long as I have the guy I love – I don’t really need to get high from actually doing something.

As a result, the memory has faded, the observation has dulled, the writing has become so automated that every single word, no matter how vital, stands out simply as an extra second. The social life is non-existent. And there are days when, I cant stop talking on the drive back home cause I haven’t said a word to anybody the whole day.

I’ve forgotten how to talk. I’ve forgotten how to write.

On the other hand, the Hubby joined journalism hardly a year back. He is now the Joint Secretary of a Journalist Forum & is known to all ministers & the like. His group of friends / acquaintances grows at an alarming rate.

But more importantly, I’ve started feeling like an inferior and THAT wouldn’t do at all. Needless to say, I’m more than ready to get out of this moronic rut & start actually doing something with life again.

So, here, today, I resolve to stop being a moron & start being the girl I was meant to be.