Archive for Gluttony
Day 10,297 – Wednesday – 04 Pausa 1930 – 25 Zilhaj 1429 – 24 December 2008
So, the depression is wearing off. Hours and hours of self therapy and telling myself that I need to calm the fuck down have helped. Of course a lot of gay porn was also good thing for me during this trying time.
On an unrelated note, I went to a wedding yesterday. And the food there was absofuckinglutely amazing. And the adding of the adjective fucking in the previous sentence was required because otherwise the meaning to be conveyed would have been lost.
Day 0 – Home, Karachi Airport, Dubai Airport, Oh so many beautiful Dubai men, Immigration, Drive home
Day 1 – Spinneys for a phone card, Bur Juman to kill time and check out the city, Burger King for a triple whopper that I could not control at all, CK, Gap, Giordano, Ibn Batuta for a very tired cart ride, Barasti for drinks and chilling, Bar Zar, Madinah Jumeira
Day 2 – Wild Wadi for water rides, Beautiful scantily clad men and women in a water park a la Dubai, Chilis because SD could have eaten two horses, Peanut Butter Jam for live music and that woman with the shrill voice, Casbar for dancing and watching extremely sexy guys
Day 3 – Ikea to get stuff but got late, Fudruckers for an amazing burger with excessive cheese, Festival City for a trip to see the mall, Waterfront Mall, Atlantis to check out the new hotel, Lost chambers to check out a million types of marine life, 360degrees for drinks and chillin, Burger King for the last time
Day 4 – Jumeira beach for checking out the guys and HS for checking out the chick (if HS’s wife is reading this, he was not checking out the chicks but missing you and he didnt even open his eyes), Dubai Marina beach to enjoy the beach, Bur Juman for frantic last minute shopping, Dubai Airport duty free incredibly cute guy flirting voraciously, Karachi Airport, Home.
Day 10,213 – Sunday – 09 Bhadra 1930 – 28 Shaban 1429 – 31 August 2008
Sundays. The one day in the week when after the excessive socializing, sleep deprivation and Saturdays one is given some peace and quiet. People who are not schizophrenic paranoid psychotics anyways. But, who am I to judge my own kind. For people in general, I have decided not to differentiate amongst the different kinds of people and be politically correct, Sundays are a great day. So are they for me.
Of course this includes eight hours of excessive Dilbert, obsessive compulsive overeating and a socially unacceptable quantity of sleep. If I dont control my mouth I will turn into a non baby Rhinoceros. Dont wish me luck, and please, please, please, please, dont hold your breath either.
Day 10,171 – Sunday – 29 Asadha 1930 – 16 Rajab 1429 – 20 July 2008
I have just realized that I have taken new and rather large strides on the path to being weird, argumentative and open to all new things. This includes the frikking piece of octopus Sashimi I had today. One of the reasons that I do not like Japanese cuisine a lot is that I prefer to eat food that is cooked properly, or preferably does not, at the very least, move on my plate. Long story short I was offered the octopus Sashimi and I tried it just because it was something new and different. And I loved it. Thankfully.
As of right now, if anyone on the face of this planet sends me an email, sms or letter saying something to the tune of “You are wrong” or “No” or “No, you dont” or “Does not” then without knowing the person or the reason behind it I will send a reply of “I am not” or “Yes” or “Yes I do” or “Does too” immediately without a second of thought. This is how bad this is. And to top this off my thing with my cousin where he says “Yes” and I say “No” has hit another level. After one year of sms, emails, facebook scraps, IM messages and 5 second phone calls I continue it ad infinitum. What the fuck is wrong with me.
And a weird, interesting yet disturbing fact about me. While I was doing my daily walk/jog/run thing today my right nipple was erect and my shirt was rubbing against it, yes I liked it for some time, but then I think that it the rubbing went too far and now my nipple hurts like hell. Touching it is like burning it with a lighted cigarette. I feel as if I have divulged too much information.
And the guy that I was having phone sex with last night had an amazing voice. But, dude, the whole Urdu thing, not my cup of tea. Please, please, please lets just have sex in English from now on. Oh, and yes, if you call me a girl again, or refer to me in the feminine gender, you will get kicked in your telephonic groin.
Excuse me. I really feel that I need to have a shrink so that I can be cool as well. And, if there was one, I would be calling him/her right now since I think that is a very major requirement at this moment.
Day 10,145 – Tuesday – 03 Asadha 1930 – 19 Jamadi us Sani 1429 – 24 June 2008
So, I seem to have found an amazing place to eat at. Bread People. Absolutely amazing eggs. I would have to say that they have the best eggs in Karachi. Of course this does not include the rapidly ageing eggs of my friend RW who says that she has the best eggs in Karachi. Despite being exceptionally opinionated and judgemental, the only reason why I choose to say this exceptionally diplomatic thing this is to avoid the inevitable post blogging argument with her. Back to non human eggs. Bread People on Khayaban e Ittihad is absolutely good at making eggs.
I went with friends and decided to try their chili omelette. For all of you reading this, the basic requirement of your life should be to try this as soon as possible because it is the most delectable item on the face of the planet and you will love me all the more for this. Coming back to non human eggs I ordered lemon slush with the chili omelette.
Ten minutes into the egg. I decided that I need something cold to brush away the chili flavour. Like any normal human being, which usually I am not, I took a large swig of the slush. I was already suffereing with my mouth burning due to the chili. And I started feeling it. It was coming on. I knew that it was going to happen. And I couldnt do anything. I had to try to stop it. But I could feel is grow slowly and gradually, it started from my ear lobes and spread to my head. Brain freeze. It took two seconds, but to me it felt like an age.
Shocked, battered and reeling I decided to eat something hot immediately. To mitigate the effects of the oncoming brain freeze. I took two large bites of the chili omelette. Fuck. Too spicy. My tongue was killing me because it was so fucking spicy. Like any brain dead imbecilic human being, I took another slug of the lemon slush. Fuck. Too cold. Another jet of brain freeze.
Chili Omelette. Lemon Slush. Chili Omelette. Lemon Slush. Fuck. Fuck me! Why the fuck do I act like a fucking brain dead automaton when I have a brain, the ability to use it, and the ability to understand that I need to stop this spiralling vicious circle of pain and stupidity. But it didnt work out that way.
I am such a fucking idiot. Who in their right mind would do the same thing. No one. So Ladies and Gentlemen, I take a bow. For I am Jalal.
Day 10,125 – Wednesday – 14 Jyaistah 1930 – 29 Jamadi ul Awwal 1429 – 04 June 2008
Saturday night, a large group of losers, me and my friend HS and his wife decide to go for food on the highway. Mind you, Saturday night. The rest of the world is getting drunk and then having meaningless lovemaking on banana leafs and persian carpets. And we are going for food to the other end of my known universe. After travelling through disgusting traffic, we reached the desired location. Fed on inordinate amounts of fatty, fried, meaty delights. And, to our most utter surprise, on our return journey, decided to take the Liari Expressway, and were home in less than half an hour.
I would have to say that after eating for three people, returning home at midnight, sleepy as mary-fucking-hellish-poppins it was an absolutely amazing surprise to cut half an hour of traffic from our drive. I would rate it at 0.789302 orgasms.
Oh, and despite the exercise (I ran 2.7 Kms today) I dont see any drastic changes. The patrician signage of the extended stomach is there. My butt is still large and squashy. And of course, I realized today, that I have man boobs. I mean fucking shit. If I wore an A sized bra; it would actually do me good. So I guess I will shift to absolutely nothing other than fruit for lunch.
Damnit! I want something to email and tell me he loves me, and meet up with me and make ever sweet love to me whilst respecting me as a person and loving me back. WELL!!! And in case you are reading this (stupidest fucking brainless logically devoid question to ask) and you are not that guy, please set me up with a friend of yours.
Thank you, and good bye. From yours trule, psychotics united.
Day 10,116 – Monday – 05 Jyaistha 1930 – 20 Jamadi ul Awwal 1429 – 26 May 2008
Life has been all about juices lately. Creative, Orange and love.
I had decided that I will change things about my life. I will do things I have not done. I will do things that challenge me. Not like my fucking work, which can be done properly by a monkey, after a bottle of whiskey, or three. I wanted to learn a foreign language and learn to either sing or play an instrument. As per the rules of my life. Mr Jalaluddin had to be absolutely confused about everything and every element of life. It took me one year to decide amongst French, Persian, Turkish and Italian. I agree this list is very strange and knowing me as an absolutely psycho should not have even allowed you to ask the question of why this list is wierd. I decided that I will go for French. The reason? My friend joined the classes and dragged me to them as well. Not at all as exciting a reason as anyone can hope for. Definitely not as exciting as hot French men daubed in Azure paint running naked at the language training centre. If only!
I also wanted to learn either to sing or to play the Guitar, Drums or the Tabla. Again, as per the rules of engagement, one of my friends told me to “Grow the fuck up and learn to sing”. Of course that was simply because he wanted to play the Guitar and wanted to play music with me without having to share his Guitar. But, all in all, in the end. I get to sing. Yay! Jalal, you are an absolutely stupendous idiot. Oh shut up!
The Creative juices have started to flow.
As part of my overall strategy to improve my life, and my health. And to ensure that I do not turn into an overgrown fat hag that is bitter and does not get any sex at all, I have started to change my diet and exercise. The only change in my diet is that now I eat as many fruits as I can get my hands on, so all other items of food have gotten reduced in quantity now. And I exercise by going for a walk/jog for forty minutes a day. It is doing me good. So, as per this new development I have had the opportunity to taste fruits and fruit juices all over the city. I am absolutely in love with fresh fruit juices. Just a random example will the the Orange juice at Dunkin Donuts, it is extremely frothy, but is amazing.
The Orange juices are amazing.
And now, to the most, wicked, cruel and absolutely naughty detail. Now, first of all, any or all of you, who do not want to know sexually explicit or disgusting details, please avert your eyes, because I promise this is not a pretty sight. The rest of you, enjoy to your heart’s content, because I feel absolutely ecstatic in bringing this information to day. Today, I had semen on my shirt. It was mine. A tiny mishap during my morning routine. I didnt realize it before I got into my car. Then I knew. I got so excited by the sheer vulgarity and perversion of the action that I spent the whole day extremely over excited and hyper productive at work. I was at least twice as productive as I am usually. I am such a slut!
The love juices are flowing as well!
Oh, and yes, I am absolutely in love with Mark Wahlberg.