Friday, January 29, 2010

Amreeki Chichora

If you speak Urdu, it's easy to understand that someone can do a slip of the tongue between choraha and chichora. I giggle everytime I do it. However, I have also noticed there is a lot of chichorapan going on lately and I thought hey let's put 2 and 2 together and get Amreeki Chichora! This will be a new series that will highlight some truly chichori activities in the world.

So to explain what exactly a chichora is, I'm going to provide a few synonyms and perhaps an example or two.

Chichora [chih-cho-Rah] :noun, masc., plural: chichoray, synonyms: tacky, cheesy, desperate, cheap, over-the-top, attention-seeker.

Sentence: Stop blasting bhangra music while driving at 5mph through a busy street, you chichora!

Chichori [chih-cho-Ree] :noun, fem., female version of chichora.

Sentence: If that chichori tells me another thing about her "new Lexus," I'm going to kill her IN her new Lexus.

:Adjective, used to describe any activity which involves the synonyms above.

Sentence: Will you boys and girls stop doing all these chichori activities like staring each other down? WE'RE IN THE MASJID!

So as you can see, chichoras come in a variety of ways. Now I'm not going to say I'm safe from chichorapan and above it; we all have a little chichora in us. It's normal. But this is going to be about those chichoras who go above and beyond the call of duty.

Some things to keep in mind:

1.Chichora is a slang word, so don't use it in front of everyone. Some people not to use this word in front of: anyone you respect (like your parents or aunts and uncles.)

2.Use it freely and openly with your good friends and call them out when they're displaying some "chichorapan" (the act of chichoraing, or an abundance of chichoraness.)

3. Anything and everything can be chichorapan, the world is your oyster.

4. Do be prepared for someone to get mad when you call them a chichora or chichori. If said thing happens, take the following action: Discontinue friendship. This person obviously can't take a joke and isn't a good friend.

I reckon you're thinking I'm a mean person. And I agree with you. And here's proof:

notice how no one has refuted my sister's comment.

Now, I know what you're thinking, "You're so mean, why would you do something so sinful as exposing people's chichoraness?" And to you I answer, "Hey, I'm mean. And besides, these people NEED to be exposed. And I'm not using names. So enjoy and have a laugh or two." And that's when you say, "Oh you're right, after a hard day's work all I wanna do is laugh at a chichora. Godspeed Baji and hand me a samosa."

Omelette du Fromage

I received a lovely package in the mail today! And it's from none other than India (aka Zarga.) So what did she send me?

An Eiffel Tower keychain!

And now I can add it to my growing collection of keychains!

Friday, January 22, 2010

A portrait of my sister

So first read this and then scroll down for the masterpiece:

Last summer my cousins from Karachi visited my family in Miami and I took a couple trips down to Miami to meet up with them. During those trips, I became best friends with my then 13-year old cousin.

For the sake of my few readers, I will whisper the name of my cousin.

(change to old Latin accent like the dude from dos equis)

You must know that you should be honored to know his name. His way is unique, his style is oblique. He won't see you later...

His name is***ali gator***

So Ali and I became good friends throughout the summer (we even let Poops become a part of our gang.) One evening, Ali, his sister, me, and my sister were sitting in the living room totally bored. So we came up with a game: let's draw each other! So each of us took turns caricaturing each other. An example is: first we picked my sister, Natasha. So Ali, Ramsha (Ali's sister) and I would draw Natasha and then we would all show our drawings when we were done. And then we would pick the next person and do the same.

So anyways, the first person we picked to draw was Natasha. I overdid it with the details and comment bubbles and Ramsha I think drew a "beautiful" picture of Natasha (I can't remember, there were too many pictures that summer) and then the master, the guru ali gator showed off his masterpiece...

...and ever since then, I can only whisper his name.

p.s. I shoulda posted a pic of my sis for you to fully appreciate this

My enemy

For those of you who use basmati rice, maybe you'll understand. For those who don't use it and just eat it (Poops) here's an explanation of why basmati rice bags are my enemy:

Every few weeks or months, that time rolls around. What is that time, you ask? That time when you've run out of rice and you reach for a new bag. What kind of bag, you ask? A burlap bag filled with 10 pounds of rice. And why is that my enemy, you ask? BECAUSE IT'S GOT A MIND OF ITS OWN!

These bags are sewn shut and the little thread at the end of each side can either make your day....or break it. In my life, I've only ever successfully properly opened a bag of rice twice. One was 3 months ago, and one was 9 years ago.

Understandably, this isn't really the greateste issue in the world to be concerned with at the moment, but I the only one who has this problem?

Jeepers...I can't believe I did a whole thing about the string on the burlap of a 10 pound rice bag.

*note: this picture is from my successful attempt 3 months ago. I was so happy, I had to take a picture. I hate the bag I just murdered yesterday (well if you can't work out the thread you have to go at it with scissors!)

Thursday, January 14, 2010

So where have I been?

Hey everyone, (or anyone….anyone there?)

My God, it’s been months since I’ve written here. I honestly don’t know why it’s been months. I guess I could go with the usual “I had a nervous breakdown,” “I had a spiritual crisis,” “I didn’t know what to write about.”

But that’s a cop out. I guess what best sums up my absence is that I felt like I wasn’t posting anything worthwhile. And while the whole premise of this blog was to post things I would normally share with my friends were we all together again, I guess I felt like what’s the point? Who wants to see my Eid flowers or my decadently delicious 3-minute yumyum?

Poops kept pointing out to me every few weeks or so that I hadn’t posted anything and that who cares what I post, I can’t be helping humanity every moment and with everything I do. (More on my humanity trip sometime later.) So of course, who listens to Poops (it’s true, Poops.)

Then, something so out of the ordinary happened. Something which I couldn’t even believe would EVER….EVER happen. Did I mention EVER? POOPS MADE A BLOG.

Omg omg omg….(I hate all this shorthand talk but the situation requires it) O-M-G!!! Wtf is Poops blogging about? Wha…why…augh.

And like a true soul-mate, Poops knew just how to get me blogging again: getting me angry and embarrassed.

So to anyone out there who still considers this pointless blog worth’s great to be back!
Oh and if anyone, oh God, I can’t believe I’m “advertising” this…if anyone wants to read Poops’ blog…here’s the address:

However, I must warn you, even “I” don’t understand 70% of what he writes about (the few posts that he has) so you’ve been warned. And come to think of it, I don’t think anyone BUT a Pakistani male would understand what he’s talking about. So yeah, if you have a Pakistani male in your life who doesn’t care for spelling or grammar (mostly grammar) and keeps up with cricket (that’s 50% of the posts) and Pak politics…then point ‘em to poops.