Sunday, October 17, 2010

Make Poverty History.

First, let me point out the obvious.

Yes, I'm one very unlikely candidate to even suggest the notion of eradicating poverty. No, I'm not doing this for publicity, or in an attempt to paint this facade of righteousness or sincerity. I'm as materialistic, indignant and devious as the next person.

But the thought of a little emaciated child begging his helpless mother for measly crumbs of bread to feed his hunger, that just pulls of my heartstrings.

Poverty is a somber matter in Egypt that threatens the very economical well being of the country. Apart from the alarming percentage of the population who are living below the poverty line, people have grown ignorant, oblivious to the turmoil around them, all due to plight of poverty that has inflicted them. Truly, poverty is the worst form of violence. Children are made to work, their childhood robbed before their eyes, decrepit senior citizens still in between menial jobs, retirement only an unattainable dream, it's a common sight. Who will save them? Where will they find their solace?

There's this photo taken by a South African photographer, Kevin Smith. It epitomizes the severity of poverty, where hunger is no longer in question, but a forgotten memory replaced by the reality of possible death.

No one knows what happened to that little girl.

If you can help, go ahead. It may be spare change, a packet of your leftovers, anything will do. The blaze of the human spirit can never be extinguished, despite however small the flame may be burning right now. But if you're content to just bear witness to a catastrophe unfolding, at least be thankful for what you have. Too often we forget to count our blessings, so immersed in our selfishness, in what we want, in what we need.

My last parting words are excerpts from chain letters. Yes, not very professional but hey, I'm just here to help :)

If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof overhead and a place to sleep,

You are richer than 75% of this world.

If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare change in a dish some place.

You are among the top 8% of the world's wealthy.

If you woke up this morning with more health than illness.

You are more blessed than the million who will not survive this week.

If you have never experienced the danger of battle, the loneliness of imprisonment, the agony of torture, or the pangs of starvation,

You are ahead of 500 million people in the world.

Make poverty history. Break the cycle.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Dark Times.

It's 4 in the morning and I'm clad in my woolen blanket wrapped securely around me. The light ticking of my wrist watch is unusually audible, reminding me of the dawn that is approaching.

And God knows I can't sleep.

I can't say what's bothering me in the wee hours of the Egyptian morning. The plethora of things that has robbed me of lulling sleep have been nagging me for a couple of days now. I feel almost suffocated, gasping for breath. Maybe is the heat of autumn that still prevails in the air, or maybe because so many things managed to go perfectly wrong in the shortest amount of time possible.

It's enough to drive anyone mad.

Have I mentioned how much I miss home? Perhaps not. I never knew it was possible to be this homesick, but there you have it, I crippled by it. Seeing smiling faces of the summer on Facebook has brought me to tears countless times, the thought of spending the next 9 months here even saddens me more.

I feel like I've lost my footing, sprawled on the floor, with only feeble attempts to get up and start anew. How does one just restart their life once they've stumbled and fall? Or improve it on levels that surpasses expectations? How?

But one's thing for sure, I am going to get through this hour of darkness. By hook or by crook, with anyone's help or not, I am going to survive this. I might be unsure, hell, I might be utterly clueless how I'm going to do it but I will.

Cause I'm Nazeera Nasir.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Sunday Night.

It feels like a Sunday night.

The merriment of the weekend has transpired, leaving us hollow with doubt and anxiety of the days to come, the harrows of the hours, the promise of a brighter future or the fear of a foreshadow upon our unprepared lives.

What will Monday hold for

Another life shattering opportunity just waiting to be grabbed by the horns? Perhaps. The disaster of uncertainty ? Perhaps.

They say that third time's the charm. Well, this will be the third time I'm gonna have to say goodbye to everyone. And God knows, even the third time doesn't make it any easier. The sunken feeling is familiar but the sting still jolts your most latent of senses.

The pain still throbs
The tears still fall
The heart still cracks.

Goodbyes still hurt.

... Sigh

Farewell Sunday. Monday morning awaits.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

A Way to a Man's Heart is...

Today marks two weeks of fasting.

Two full whole weeks of horrific, monumental traffic congestions everywhere at approximately 4-7 pm, two long weeks of hotels and restaurants hiking buffet prices to exorbitant levels, almost taunting the middle class with unattainable gluttony, two absolute weeks of amnesia stricken souhur meals every morning

You get my point.

As of every year, Ramadan brings things to the plate; some joyous, many not.

What I love about Ramadan is that, there is a greater appreciation for the smaller, often disregarded everyday pleasures. I can't remember the last time water tasted so sweet or how it feels like to savour shreds of meat like it's your last meal.

Yes, Ramadan is a blessing for the ungrateful.

However, there is one thing that irks me so.
So, general knowledge (or not being a total oblivious ass) has made it clear that we are to pledge to refrain from food, drink and other earthly vices that make us human.

Okay, that's relatively easy to do, I suppose.

Nevertheless, our behaviour and demeanour suggests otherwise.

I have bear witness to insane, monstrous drivers, honking their car-worths of battery life, restaurant customers with anger levels escalating to extremities, spewing abuse to workers, the violent flights of inanimate objects thrown across the room and other almost barbaric decorums of usually esteemed men.

Shame on you all.

God knows, our brains only work when there is an adequate amount of glucose in our system.

Anything less, we are governed by our stomachs.

When tired and hungry, it invokes the worst of us, letting loose the beast that has been simmering its poison within our cores. And once it's free, there's no stopping its wrath.

It was literally like watching the transformation of gentlemen to brutes, royals to paupers and elites to the common. But of course, who hasn't fallen victim to acting treacherously ridiculous in times of (can you even call it that?) famine.

But as revered individuals, we shouldn't stoop to being uncouth, flaring tempers and shouting disparaging remarks when facing just one of the many tribulations to come. We're not animals with carnal instincts, but humans with thought and rationale.

Surely, we've been taught better than that.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

It's Okay.

When I was still a wee lass in high school, I was mostly the observer.

I was never the instigator in a fight nor was I the perpetual victim of teenage angst, well mostly cause the whole boy drama thing didn't really unfurl for me (go figure), which let us be frank, is the main reason why girls fight.

... And gossiping is excluded, cause well, everybody does it.
Even testosterone-raging boys.

Back to the point. From my 5 years of harrowing through all the melodrama, the theatrics, the peer pressure, I've realized something.

That one something I wish someone had sat me down and explained to me, would've saved me the melancholic heartbreak of growing up.

To the little younglings of this blog, heed this. I'm gonna try to hold your hand while you experience just the beginning of the surprises life has in store for you.

Just remember one thing that will always be the last spoken advice in every little predicament you're in.

It's okay.

It's okay to be that one person who's not in sync with everyone else.
You failed a paper? Single when everyone else is not? It's okay. Everything will turn out alright, you're seemingly eternal shame that has embedded itself within your core will fade away.

It's okay if you feel left out from your circle of friends.
Friends come and go, and your need to adhere to the most influential person you know too will vanish, displaced by a growing respect and love for yourself. It's difficult to understand now, but you deserve so much better.

It's okay to say no.
Your belief is what make you unique. It builds your character and it shapes your soul. And to lose that freedom, it'll be the biggest tragedy to befall mankind. Hold on to your stance in life. Never ever feel like you have to compromise yourself to be anything. Cause life is too short for you to live for somebody else.

It's okay to love and live.
What are the teens years without puppy love? Always be willing to take the plunge. Cause not taking that dive is what regrets are made of. And if you get out hurt and broken, don't worry. There's always someone out there who's gonna mend you. I promise.

Last but not least...

It's okay to laugh at yourself.
Seriously. Your pride will be the death of your juvenility and to bury your inner child will be a sad day to endure. Your cheeks might flush a bit, your story might be fodder for reunion dinners but it's a small price to pay for a good laugh and more importantly, a perpetual smile on your face and in your heart.

This is to commemorate me turning 20. The big two-oh baby. This is the part where usually people whine about being old and decrepit. But I'm not gonna worry too much. Why?

Cause it's okay.
Cause everything's gonna be okay.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Third Year, Baby.

My lack of a religious immediate response aside.


Goodbye facial nerves!
So long internal capsule!
Screw you corticobulbospinal tracts!
Burn limbic system!

*If I do turn out to become a neurologist or neurosurgeon, please don't bring up this post*

So, as (un)expected, I (barely) passed semester 4. Thank you God, seriously.

And thanks to everyone and anyone who's helped me through, lending me their notes, pushing me to study, inspiring me to make an effort and letting me copy in the exams (thanks AIMAN! :P)

I can already smell the wafting scent of satay roasting over red hot coals, hear the sounds of char koay teow being fried over voluminous,roaring flames and taste the very first bites of freshly steamed dim sum.

Oh Malaysia, how you will clog my arteries and leave me connected to IV drips and ECG machines by the time I'm 45

... But that's why I love you so much. Like a parasitic lover hacking away my health and money :)

I miss the tall buildings of Kuala Lumpur, all the rude yet sentimentally valued people of the Malaysian streets, the eternally air conditioned malls, the crisp image on the first Agong on our ringgit bills, the lush blend of cultures and the humid heat that makes Malaysia, well... Malaysia.

But most of all, what I look forward to is being with those whose voice and rapport kept me through times of utter distraught and melancholy,
With those whom I've turned to for support in times of obvious struggle,
With those whose words were never harsh,
With those whose love was never barren or dry,
... And with those whom have blurred the lines between family and friends.

It's gonna be good being home.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Life's Mundane Moments

If blogging was mandatory law.

I should be hung upside down, beaten with a stick, and forced to sing Justin Bieber's "Baby" til' my lungs explode from sheer embarrassment from actually knowing that song.

In other words, sorry for the lack of updates.

Exams are finally over. Thank God for that.

... Too much information, Fikri.

Now, the image of you rolling on the floor from the throbbing femoral pain from the per said "kicking" is engraved in my mind. And me looking awfully happy watching you seethe. Oh well.

It was tough. But one should always have faith in one self and others...

I pray that everyone will pass, insyaAllah.

Meanwhile, in the present time. I have set up a new residency in the vicinity of my bed, drawing international borderlines and called it Nazeeraland, population: me. What's there in Nazeerland, you ask? Oh plenty.

There's endless supply of food (carefully placed in a plastic bag at the foot of the bed), permanent breezy weather (courtesy of a perpetually running fan), top of the line communication devices (the internet and my phone that's never out of battery thanks to the charger that also can be found in Nazeeraland), entertainment (YouTube, Facebook and movies on my hard disk) and last but not least, a proper plumbing system (sadly, I have to get out of Nazeeraland to utilize this, I'm not gonna soil my bed, thank you)

I'm the king of my own country. I feel good :)

So far, out of the 1,2,3... 6 days of holidays, the only fun thing I did was go to Cairo. Despite the fact that the vicious sun seared it's penetrating rays into the core of my bones, leaving me squirming in the heat, I managed to fill my time there with satiating amounts of food from Chili's (paid LE 150 for my meal, can you say 'WTF?'), a movie (Prince of Persia, starring my former homo hero, Jake Gyllenhaal) and a modest shopping spree (Two eyeliners, pressed powder and a sharpener makes Nazeera a very happy girl).

However, the joy was cut short with me coming home to the news that Baby's grandfather died. Even though I didn't know him, I've heard a great deal of him and he sounded like a God-fearing man, a loving father and just a gem a to be around. What a terrible loss.

InsyaAllah, you are in a better place.

And to Baby, be strong. Shoulders are aplenty if you ever need one to lean on.

On another note...

Emos, sexists, and pedophiles.

Everything that's wrong (but hilarious) about the world.

And yes, that last one, that's a children's book.

Anyway, I have to go. Laundry and more lazing around to be done. I know, I'm such a hardworking individual, I surprise myself.

See you around.

Monday, May 17, 2010

Last Day.

Last day of class.

Back in high school, the last day of class was usually celebrated with dangerous amounts of junk food and fizzy drinks that can render you into a diabetic coma.

I remember the eve before the last day, I would force my maid to fry precooked chicken cause God knows I'm too lazy to coat fresh chicken in crumbs. Go figure.

Those were the good ol' days. Days when the the last day meant no more exams, no more books, just hard partying *extended couch potato hours* and quality me time *sleep, sleep, sleep*

But now, the last day of class gives a whole different meaning.

We have exams to prepare for.

We have the new house to move into.

We have to bake in this insufferable heat while we wait for the results

Then we will have to return to our homeland to be fattened up again and further decreasing my chances of having a boyfriend... again.

I like me a challenge. :)Good luck to you all my darlings.

We can do this.

Oh, and I'll be on hiatus til' further notice.

See you real soon.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Facebook Addiction.

It all started with:

Then it continued with:

And it ended with:

Okay, perhaps I was a wee bit out of line.But he started it! *in that tiny baby voice that girls make that can drive you to whip out your belt and abuse them*

Facebook has become a platform for so many things now, backbiting, gossip, cyber bullying, dating, voyeurism etc. It truly is a social network, the pros and even the dark shallow cons that leer in the crevices of our society.

Well, I did more digging. And I discovered users express all sorts of emotions on this very popular site. So much honesty, a rollercoaster of flourishing teenage angst.

... And I can hear all of you thinking "No shit, Sherlock"

From jubilant happiness:

To terse bursts of anger:

From the sexually suggestive:

To the all inspiring:

From the ambiguous:
To the inappropriate:

From simple expressions of love:

To shameless bitching:

I love Facebook. Don't you?

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Dear Love.

Dear Love,

Hey, it's me Nazeera.

I hope you're doing good. It's been ages since I've heard from you, maybe circa 2009 when you gave me a taste of your potent yet momentary venom that was fortunately cured by logic and rationale. Yes, you're quite the devilish one, aren't you?

Anyway, there's something I have to talk to you about. Well, I think I could well say that you probably saw this coming. Yeah, it's the talk. Why won't you take a seat? It may get a little winded.

First of all Love, I know it's your job to maintain some sort of balance of peace and serenity in this world. It's true, without you being in the picture, there's no way for harmony and tranquility to be achieved, but seriously, I think you take your job way too seriously. I see you everywhere nowadays, being whored out by the capitalistic business ventures that plague our superficial and exhibitionist society. I mean, selling yourself for 10 dollar roses and extravagantly priced chocolates? C'mon, you're better than that.

Another thing Love, why is it that when you're around, something else deteriorates? Yeah, you give everyone that butterfly fluttering effect in the pit of our stomachs and all, but is it necessary to effectively screw up other important aspects in people's lives like studies, work and friends? Why is that? Are you that conceited that you need to have all the attention to yourself? You need help, buddy.

Also, it's funny how you come and go so fast nowadays. I mean, one look between two longing pair of eyes and BOOM! there you are. However, by the first touch or third kiss, you're already on your merry way. Okay, perhaps it's not entirely your fault, perhaps your friends Infatuations and Lust are partly responsible. But you have to take control of the situation, don't let fake knock offs wear your mask. You have a reputation to maintain.

One thing I have to bring up is that the lack of diversity in your work. Young, fiery couples are not the only ones who are in need. Aging families, feuding siblings, Palestine and Israel, they all need your aid. They might not be as exhilarating as two in heat teenagers, but they're just as equally important. Hell, it's even more important. Have you seen how people switch partners nowadays, justifying themselves with mere illusions of you? Shameful.

Anyway Love, I know you're pretty busy so I'm gonna cut this short. Thanks for reading this seemingly inane letter, I really appreciate it. Hope you take heed of what I said and just chill once in a while. Take a break will you.

You don't make the world go round, you know.

Hope to hear from you real soon, I'm getting kind of lonely.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Once Upon a Time.

The breeze enveloped her mind, like caressing hands on a lover's nape. She gazed onto the empty field, the greens and browns seemingly to come alive with every second her eyes linger. With utmost hesitation, she outstretched her hand, to touch the swaying grass, growing wild rebelling against the wind.

Slowly but surely, she takes a first step onto the mossy loam,the damp soil taking the weight of the world away from her heaving shoulders. Her ivory dress fled the silhouette of her body, exposing the arch of her back to the barren azure sky. Her timid eyes closed, feeling bold for once as she lifted her head up high, her hair now dancing in beautiful tangles. The rays of the sun played upon her skin, highlighting the freckles on her cheeks and the crimson tinge of her lips. Her face now, half aware of her isolation and yet still afraid of the judging stares of the heavens and earth. She wanted to break free from this scrutiny.


With every ounce of courage she could muster, she lifted the fabric ashen hems of her dress and started to run. Her legs sprinting through the emerald leaves. her breaths growing heavier, her heart beating away a symphony of emotions. The pain throbbing throughout her frail body. Little beads of sweat rolling down her forehead. She could hear the screams of the silence, growing louder, bombarding her with a hushed abuse. The noise of the invisible crowd, their grasp no longer bounded to her. She will no longer be battered. No longer be neglected. No longer a pawn.

She was weary. But she never stopped. She kept running. Like the wind.

Pointless? Perhaps.

But there's a story somewhere in there, I promise.

Friday, April 16, 2010

This Week's Roundup.

I could honestly say, without a doubt, it felt like I lived a lifetime in one week.

It was a roller coaster of a ride, countless emotions flooding my head, planting an eternal seed that seems to have embedded itself within me.

Definitely, absolutely something I can write about in journals and put it in a box labelled

Things I Would Remind My Kids Again and Again
Why Their Mother was a Badass

So, what happened this week that turned me to an already exaggerated version of myself? *hint: total drama queen*. Well, I made a list!

Yay me.

During Early Experience on Wednesday, a terminally ill, jaundice stricken patient who had an inoperable brain tumour died in the middle of class. He died slumped in his wife's arms and she started crying and screaming, stunning all of us.

Just earlier, the doctor teaching us had screamed at the dead man's family to stop coming in and out the room and told his young son that he could see his dad after the class.

I guess he never got the chance.

I'm a criminal. An utter shameless criminal.

I *along with a couple of people* stole some exam papers during the Mid Semester and I got caught. The head tutor even threatened to deduct marks and not send us lecture slides anymore.

Oh, yes, for once in my life, I felt total, body engulfing panic.

I even called my mum and told her "Forgive me if I don't come back for the summer"

Please don't let me die in this burning heat, Dr. Dalia.

However, thanks to a couple of other fellow thieves as well, we got together and apologized to Dr. Dalia. Let's just say, thanks to her graciousness, she let us off the hook with a warning as well as a reminder that the questions will not be repeated anymore hence, there's no point shredding papers anymore.

Well, good to know that I have reduced my chances of sitting for the summer exam. I have a track record and competition with my mother to think about.


I sang four songs; Yellow, Halo, Bad Romance and Mercy for college, again. It was for our Mansoura Manchester Art Gallery that was fortunately well received and showcased some of the best artwork and photographs I've seen.

Congratulations to the winners, Sherif and some-other-guy-who-was-not-Taqi as well as to Hadeer Soultan and Basim Helmy for coordinating the event. Hopefully, in about 4-5 years time, we can kick AUC's ass.

Oh, and thanks to Ahmed Yousry for playing the piano/keyboard. Hope you get your tuned, pitch perfect voice back man, I'm gonna wait for that day.


My friend has found a new boyfriend and they're in their honeymoon stage. I guess it doesn't really apply to me but I'm allowed to brood, right? She even changed her number so that it'll be cheaper to text him.

So, Baby and I decided to change our numbers too so that we can text each other.

What is that? I hear a nomination for The Most Pathetic Moment of 2010?

Total frontrunner.

I gave a presentation yesterday. Fairouz and I to be specific. About the "Epidemiology of Multiple Sclerosis". Fairouz was fantastic as usual.

I however, showed the world my ataxic gait and probably scared off every boy who thought I was remotely a lady.

Oh well.

Another thing that doesn't really apply to me but I think ought to have an ounce of empathy for this one.

It's about the lack of human rights that terrifyingly rampant in this one unspecified country. Back home in Malaysia, you hardly never see kids working a full time job, or your own people begging on the streets. And even that, we complain and moan about the lack of human rights and transparency that plague our government.

But hey, compared to atrocity that is unfurling before my eyes, Malaysia's living the life of luxury.

Corruption has left a widening gap between the filthy rich and disgustingly poor people. The most revolting part is how a country with so much Islamic values indoctrinated within them are inhumane savages who's creativity in inducing torture onto its people breaks every barrier of cruelty and monstrous barbarism.

God have mercy on your souls.

Anyway, I have to go perform my duties to God now. Also, I have a crapload of work to complete, being the eager person who wants to go back and hug her bag *and family and friends* ... I gotta start now!

See you people

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Me, a guy? Totally, Utterly... Possible.

An absolutely absurd thought crossed my mind today. If it not were for the obvious female body parts...

I could EASILY pass for guy.

I'm serious.

First of all, I'm not thinking of a sex change or anything.

Cool if that happened though? Man, this blog would be a hit!

Memoirs of a Hijabi Transvestite. I can see the moolah now.

Back to the point, one of the the most obvious things is that I actually really really like football. I mean, I would dive in head first in a mosh pit in Old Trafford, any time baby.

That's how much I love football, people.

Yes, I don't watch all the matches, but hey, the only reason why I don't is because I have my studies to think about. And the fact, I'm such a bitch when watching a match.

I would literally whimper if the game doesn't go well.

You know that that twist of the gut feeling you get when you know something's bad about to happen? Yes, THAT happens to me each time I watch Manchester United playing like shit. And they often play like shit, like they're doing the damn job for free. I swear, if you're being paid like a corrupted minister, make a damn effort for God's sake! Sheesh.

Anyway, second, about expressing your feelings.

God, I hate gushing.


It's not that I'm heartless, but I don't really hate using the words "hurts", "so much" or "cry" in the same sentence. Oh no, doesn't mean I never went through the whole heartbreak phase. Of course I did. I am a teenager after all.

But to moan and groan about it to another person, wanting his/her sympathy? Oh my god, I rather bleed internally.

I mean, I'd like to think my problems are mine to solve. Burdening it onto others would not only make things worst, it'll probably piss that person off, cause you know, they don't too don't want your bull ruining their day. Yes, friends are there to help you through the day, but hey, everybody has their limits. And I for once, am not gonna be the unlucky dumbass pushing those limits.

Third is, chick lits.

Now, this is problem that I think everyone should consider a global problem, put it up there along with the Al Qaeda and world hunger.

Why does ANYONE buy/read chick lits? Why does anyone with a single, functioning brain cell read chick lits? Why do you want to jeopardize your IQ and every useful information in your brain by the reading the absolute filth of literature? Absolute bottom of the lot? God knows.

I bought this one book once called Wives and Girlfriends by Katie Agnew in Heathrow airport, hoping for a light read on the plane. Not only was the novel disgustingly camp and trivial, it was a chance for a faux celebutante to flaunt the excessive, unbelievable lifestyle in the faces of many, hoping for a quick buck from this blatant brandishing of so-called opulence. I for one, honey, am not buying it.

The book was almost as bad as the Twilight series. She kept reusing the same phrases again and again like "chocolate brown" and "velvety smooth" to describe things. Sounds like a Peter and Jane Introduction to English book if you ask me.

Argh, I should finish ranting about this quickly before I go absolutely mad and might go on shooting rampage.

Last but not least, is my far from feminine behaviour.

Unless you're absolutely blind, illiterate or just in constant denial, as you can see, I swear, a lot. I know it suppose to be "cool" to swear like a sailor but deep down, I'd really want to stop this unhealthy habit.

I would like to express my feelings in the most simple, holistic ways and since not all of us like reading big words and quickly googling them, I use common vulgarity to articulate what I feel. Particularly when that feeling is a fiery, agitated one.

I'm loud, assertive, rarely indecisive, headstrong and have less than 10 pairs of shoes.

I don't like walks in the rain, I don't like flowers *they die for Pete's sake!*, chocolates are only meant to be bought by me and eaten quietly like a criminal enjoying their last meal, I like wearing pants and I do threaten anyone remotely annoying with physical violence.

Don't I sound like a catch?

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Exam Scars.

This is me.

... This morning.

I'm definitely feeling the heat of the exam now. Went to the toilet twice today when I hardly ate anything yesterday.

I could feel the emptying of HCl from my tummy.

Oh yeah...

The Big Bad Stress Diarrhea Monster has finally yielded its ugly head.

Does this every damn year as well.

I remember during my SPM Additional Math paper *which I got a C for ANYWAY* I was practically spewing blood after numerous trips to the toilet while staying up for the night, studying.

Exams and me just do not go together, just never did make our peace. We're like an old married couple where I'm the subservient wife who's being beaten repeatedly by her superior, condescending husband, leaving me numerous and multiple scars all over my ragged body.

Only this one, I cannot take to court or sue for alimony. Damn.

Yesterday, I received an email from my mum saying she's worried about my studies, about me coming online too often and even assumed I was busy clubbing AND dating.

Dear Mummy,
Your daughter has not had a date for the longest of time. 20 years this 2nd of August, to be exact.

And clubbing, there are no clubs in Mansoura.

So yes, you don't have to worry about your daughter being a wayward wild child while being here. Oh, but au contraire, she's even being accused of being a spy for PCM.

Hilarious? I thought so too.

Thank you.

5alas keda.

Anyway, I really got to start studying today before I go bonkers. Chinese competitiveness kicking in! Gotta get things done, you know, before the clubbing and dating starts ;)

See you.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

My first (not quite) Oscar!

Here are some rules to accept the award:

Thank and link the person who gave you the award.
Pass this award to 15 bloggers you
recently discovered.

Contact the blogger and tell them they've won the award.

State seven things about yourself.

I was tagged by Kak Nadia!
I haven't done one of these things in a while, so I'm pretty stoked do the whole "Things You Should Know/Never Knew About Me" list.

Another chance to brag about/embarrass myself. Yippee.

7 Things
You Never Knew About Me/Should Know About Me/Already Knew But Forgotten About Me/Better Know or Else...

Number One.
I am only child. Never had siblings. I guess I'm pretty well adjusted to the solitude and lack of people around. But hey, I like my little family.

Number Two.
I know several iconic dances. Not iconic per say, just really popular ones, however shitty they might be. This includes:
  • Soulja Boy
  • Thriller
  • YMCA
  • The Chicken Dance
Throw a party and I'll show you what I can thrown on the dance floor baby ;)

Number Three
I like partying. 'Nuff said.

Number Four
I once stole a story book from a book fair in my school when I was seven. I think I still have it somewhere at home.

Number Five
I write poetry. It's rather difficult to comprehend someone as boisterous and obnoxious as me has the soul of a poet, but hey, Bush was president, anything is possible.

Number Six
I have a rather diverse and eclectic taste in music. It ranges from the Beatles to Coldplay, from Josh Groban to Stereophonics, from Eric Clapton to Lady Gaga. As long as it has lyrical and musical value, I'll listen to it.

Number Seven
This is a real honest one. Even if I'm a Muslim girl, I have trouble accepting the whole "women are the weaker sex" thing everyone is trying to impose onto me. It's a rather difficult concept to grasp, that women cannot be leaders, having to be almost subservient to men. It's a debatable topic but what I believe in, yes, we have different responsibilities but in the matters where women are just as competent as men, I don't see a reason why women should be brushed off as the more inept gender.

I'm done :)

Okay, I don't know 15 bloggers BUT I'm just gonna tag those whom I know haven't received this award.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Friends Say the Darndest Things.

Hello all.

To follow up the blogging marathon that I'm on right now, I've decided to post another non-angry post to ease the tension of the "slander" and "anonymous" blogging fiasco that's happening right now.

I swear to God, I have some of the funniest friends... ever.

Well, these are the some of the things we say that we'll burst into laughter mid conversation.

Conversation 1

*talking about doing good towards our parents*

NB: Tu la, sementara mereka ada...
*cutting in*
AAR:... Mintaklah duit dari mereka.


NB: That's why, while they're still alive...
*cutting in*
AAR: Ask them for money.

Conversation 2

*talking about how popular our Egyptian friend AR is on Facebook*

NN: Yeah, all the girls love Amr.
ST: *imitating a girl* Oh Amr, marry me or I'll commit suicide, you have 30 seconds
NN: ... Posted one hour ago.

Conversation 3

FAA: Tu la, family die nak Sharifah.
MF: Aah, Sharifah selalunya hidung mancung.
FAA: Kurang ajar kan?
MF: ... Dan putih.


Exactly, his family wants a Sharifah
MF: Yeah, Sharifah's have sharp noses
FAA: You're being an ass...
MF: ... and fair.

Conversation 4

He has another girlfriend
Ugly people are not allowed to cheat! EVER!

Conversation 5

*about the recent commotion about the photos in the blog*

AAR: Hek ele, emo macam gambar die je yang masuk!
MF: Hey, mata aku nampak SIKIT okay!


AAR: She's being all pissed off like her photo was up in the blog as well!
MF: Hey, you could see my eyes okay!

Conversation 6

Hey, say hi to her for me, will ya? *pauses* How gay does that sound?
NN: I've accepted your pseudohomo a long time ago.

Conversation 7

MEM: I tried looking for that song, "Times goes by so slowly" by Madonna but I can't find it anywhere!
ST: It's called Hung Up.

Conversation 8

AA: Kita kena buat apa kita suka untuk relax.
FHR: Abang Amin, saya kan ada problem. Kalau saya tension, saya makan, lepas saya makan, saya tengok saya gemuk lagi, saya lagi naik tension.
AA: Perlu ke bagitau?


AA: We have to do the things we like to relax.
FHR: Abang Amin, I have a problem. When I'm stressed, I eat. When I see I've grown fatter, I get even more stressed.
AA: Was it necessary to tell everyone?

Conversation 9

*talking about the Jonas Brothers*

OEN: Eww, fcukin faggots.
NN: God doesn't love you enough to make you a Jonas Brother.

Conversation 10

*comments on a picture where PW has a zit*

MS: Jerawat!
PW: Annoying Mye! Macam dajal mata tiga!


PW: Mye, you're annoying! Like a three eyed Antichrist.

Ten for now, until I can think up of some more!

See ya :)

Boyzone, how I miss you.

I'm gonna be stoned for apostasy for these pictures.

But I'm trying out a new concept of:

Less words, more pictures!

Anyway, there are a few things I would like to address.

Numero uno:
Why music was created in the first place:

This song is called Layla by Eric Clapton. Granted, it might not fit everyone's taste of music. Some people adore the whole "boyband" phase thing that seemed to have fleeted away as quickly as their boyish good looks

Exhibit A


... And the cute little gay one is dead.

Also, given the fact that I grew up listening to a lot 70's and 80's rock, blues and RnB... oh, and Michael Jackson.

My mum
loved MJ

She even had those ancient black frisbees of Off The Wall and Thriller. And yes, she even had the cassettes *Oh, how I loved to pull out the flimsy films out*

As I was saying, I grew up loving these kind of crap so naturally, Eric Clapton was THE man. We had the The Clapton Chronicles album that never left the car until I stole it and ripped it into my computer.

Man, that was an incredible album.

It was the first time I heard Layla, which I read from trusty ol' Wikipedia that he was talking about George Harrison's wife that he was madly in love with.

Pattie Boyd.

It's difficult to imagine that name with that face.

Maybe, cause another certain singer who has a similar name *hint* Susan BOYle *hint* has totally tarnished my association of that name with something remotely attractive. Heh.

In conclusion, take a listen, and be ready for an out of this world, cosmic journey of musical adventure. Remember to hold on to something before you embark on this mind blowing experience.


Numero dos.

There's been some fire that's blazing about the whole Info Kini blog that had bash the whole GMMSC Dinner that we all thought was a good first try despite having no prior experience in conducting something so elaborate and grandiose. Congratulations to you guys.

I have only one thing to say to you disgusting cowardly author on Info Kini who's attempts at being funny just fails repeatedly.Enough said.

I'm not gonna waste my time posting comments/statuses on FB cause I know this is what you craved for in the first place.


Come out from the shadows and then we'll talk.

From a door preferably, cause I'm scared that you'll be turned on by my feminine voice that can cause you to commit unimaginable sins.

Oh, how you people are sick.

Numero Tres

Oh, Manchester United.


Numero cuatro

We have possibly found a house. It's about 1000 square feet, 1400 a month. But no furniture.

Oh, the possibilities of crap I plan to buy are endless.

... this is the time where a certain superior power *cough* parent *cough* is suppose to offer me more money to buy more things to alleviate my poverty stricken life.

Thank you :)