Archive for clothing
Day 10,212 – Saturday – 08 Bhadra 1930 – 26 Shaban 1429 – 30 August 2008
Yes, chaos. That is exactly what I experienced last night when I went out for food with my family. Coming from a middle class background and having lived on a civil servant’s salary we have all learnt to live sparingly. Food was something one ate at home. Except on very few occasions when one ate at a restaurant, with fresh napkins, and the forceful yet unrelenting resort to etiquette. I always used to think of restaurants as what heaven would be like. I have learnt that I was obviously wrong. Very wrong. Anyone who has been to Bar b que tonite will agree that if Heaven is anything similar to it then God is obviously having fun at our expense. I only hope that he is not. As usual, I have started to ramble, I shall return to the topic.
Due to these particular circumstances my family has no idea of how to behave in a restaurant. For starters there is not idea of how to give an order to the waiter. What you do is that once the waiter has arrived then anyone on the table who has not decided yet will ask the waiter to return in “five minutes”. If you are at any kind of a reasonable restaurant the waiter will come after five minutes; otherwise after much gesturing, shouting, poking, eye rolling and making obscene gestures you would be able to avail the services of a not-so-high-tip-getting-waiter. Once the waiter is at the table someone, anyone, anywhere, on the table will start to give his / her order. You will tell the waiter about your order for soup, main course, dessert and drinks along with any particulars for each item of food. Then you will become quiet. The ordering will go either clockwise or anticlockwise depending on who on the right or left of the first order starts to speak first, or louder. At the end of the order the person paying for the food, or the general leader of the group based on social situation or group structure will order appetizers. And that is it. Then the waiter will go.
There should be no excessive confusion on what to order. Unless there are dietary issues it does not matter if you have Mayo in your sandwich or not. There should be no interruption of other orders, the “Please make my steak medium well done” is not an adorable thing. Rather, when you say it, I want to poke my fork in your nose and see you bleed to death because I am giving my order now, and I will not be forced to live a life of miserable food because you could not make your brain work long or hard enough for it to churn out your choice of food from a menu which actually helped you select what you wanted to eat. That was incredibly vicious and virulent. I guess the old Jalal is coming back.
Actually, saying that this whole restaurant order thing if my family issue would be wrong. It is representative of Pakistanis’ lack of clarity of thought and ability to do simply tasks without adding a lot of confusion and excessive ignorance, interruptions and stupidity to the process. Something that I have grown to love. The social conduct of a Pakistani group is always an amazing experience. Usually from a distance.
So there it was. In other news, my cufflinks broke. They just clean broke off and I had to walk about my office with my sleeves all rolled up. Get so very turned on by guys who have their sleeves rolled up and their tie loosened. So hot!
Day 10,032 – Monday – 24 Safar 1429 – 13 Phalgun 1929 – 03 March 2008
So, after work, my friends decide to drop me off. I agree. I am stupid. After a while I learn that they want to go to this summer clothing exhibition. Mausummery. At Marriott. I am stupid. I decided to enjoy it. I am stupid. So, we went there. The hotel had too many women roaming about. I should have gotten an idea. I am stupid.
When I entered the exhibition I was shocked to the very core of my being. Women, after seeing another thousand women and two hundred varieties of clothing go completely insane. Completely insane. They have no idea where they are. They have no idea what to do. They just move, as if my the powers of God, towards whatever piece of clothing they like. They do. I saw it today. And I will not be dissuaded by anyone telling me the contrary.
Those women were nuts. I got pushed by them. Some of them pushed me as they hurtled headlong into throngs of women gathered in front of the clothing items that they wanted. I felt like I was forced into a world of excessively large billiard balls and clothing. Those women would push and shove and shout and laugh and scream with glee. It was the scariest experience I have ever had with women. And this includes living with my mother and sisters. It was scary beyond all calculations. It was scary. I have been scarred for life.
But, one good thing came out of it, I think I have a much deeper understanding of women now, through this one experience, than I had throughout the period of my engagement. I saw the blank stared of the women moving towards clothing items. I saw it. And I was very very scared. Now, I know. I know you all for what you are. I know!
After this harrowing experience into the inner workings of the female brain me and a friend went out for coffee. And there, I saw two things, the sexiest man for the last quarter. That is three months. And the sexiest gadget for the last year. That is twelve months. The new Mac, the wafer thin light as fucking hell one.
I just could not decide on, given a choice, which one to have sex with, and which one to marry. I was just so seriously confused. But, in the end, the guy won. I did not do anything, but I think he was so cute, I can oil him up and massage him for anywhere between ten minutes and ten hours. Oh God. This excessive obsession with sex is definitely not good. Is it?
Wednesday – 12 Rajab 1424 – 19 Bhadra 1925 – 10 September 2003
since commenting was down someone sent me 3 email to post this. well here it is.
i should tell you before i proceed. i never pay attention to clothing. i get my clothes cleaned. then i keep wearing them one by one. after wearing one thing for a day or two i throw it in a corner of my room. the clothes collect there. and after a few days (read 2-3 weeks) all my clothes are there except for the 2-3 expensive formal attire that i had. now one day i get up. and i see oh no pants(read lower wear)/shirts(read upper wear) to wear. then i just shove my hand into the pile of clothes. pick out something and wear it. this goes on for about 2-3 weeks more. making sure that the clothes that i wear dont smell while i wear em.
so in this way in about 4-6 i have used up all my clothes and they are all VERY dirty and cannot be worn. then i give them for cleaning which takes about 2-3 days. i sunchronize with the weekend so i kept naked most of the 2-3 days (oh come on ! if you are thinking what i think you are thinking you are perverted). also if during this 2-3 days i have to wear something i had to resort to doing strange things. i acutally once attired myself in a sheet to have lunch. EVERYONE was staring at me. then there was one time when i wore the a suit to a friends birthday. well lets say i was the only one not wearing a short and a t-shirt and i felt like a freak. but then they asked me to address them. and i made the most vulgar and cheap speech ever to ever fawning crowd of friends.
this is about the time when i was in college actually about 5-6 months ago. it was a crisp spring morning. a slight chill will you catch if you wear half sleeves (queer sentence structure). it was one of the 2-3 days without clothes. i was looking in my drawer when i saw a pair of pants. i said. YES ! oh oh. but no underwear. what the hell. who needs that anyway. it is just an added encumberment upon me. so i decided to go commando. oh but if i were to know what lay in the future for me.
well i noticed it too late. it wasnt that cold. my pants were ripped. right at the rumaali (crotch). and it was a slightly biggish hole. and i was like. OH DEAR GOD !!! OH FUCK !!! NO NO NO NO NO !!! NOT YOU !!! ANYTHING ELSE BUT THIS !!! but ahhhhh what childish dreams i had squashed at that instant. no miracles took place. i was as i was. wearing ripped pants. now i dont wear pants i wear jeans but today was a special day. well i hated it.
i went to class. sat with one leg over the other. wearing pants. a VERY distinguished gentleman i was. sitting in formal clothing in a formal way. oh but if they knew the truth. how shocked would they be. i wasnt distinguished, i was naked. damn it. i was dead scared that day. i didnt walk at all fast all day for fear of hearing a large rip and everything falling apart. and yes i KNOW i wasnt wearing underwear. everyone would have seen my inadequecies. OH COME ON !!! IT WAS A VERY COLD DAY !!! HARDLY A DAY TO GO A PRANCING !!! and that is why i use inadequecies. otherwise you know. i am big. right. come on. i am! come on! i am not lying! ok what ever i shall proceed now.
so the day is going NOT WELL then i go to the cafe. sitting with a group of friends. and suddenly one of them jokes. why are you acting as if your pants are ripped. and we all have a laugh. i probably had a laugh slightly more nervous than the others. my friend realized that. and he said. why are you sitting cross legged. i shot a look at him. he was smiling. he knew !!! HE KNEW !!! damn it ! and he knew i knew. so well he said. HEY EVERYONE LISTEN !!! jalal is not wearting underwear. and they are all like WHOA !!! come on open his legs show us.
oh what nice cherub like kids they were. little did they know that in trying to see the rip they could actually catch big jalal sleeping. (a VERY interesting thing that i noticed as i wrote the last sentence jalal means anger or fury in my language, this dual meaning might get me a few emails from a large number of bottoms out there ;) ) well i didnt tell them about me being commando. well i kept quiet. and kept my feet shut as about 8 guys pulled them apart. (come to think of it even this sentence can have dual meanings). well i suddenly told em i am commando. they all said in unison EWWWW !!! and they all stopped. seems like noone wanted to see big jalal.
after that one of the guys jokes about big jalal actually being little jalal. now i never let such an opportunity pass. i always pass some sort of gay comment jokingly and make it seem like i am str8 but just kid about being gay. so i told him he can check out jalal in the bathroom. well lets say NOONE made any other such comments that day. ;)
and after the cafe incident i came back and changed into nothing again. never again did big jalal get to see the whole university and the cafe himself.
so my advice to all of you. if you cant get caught. and are as intelligent as me. do it someday. commando and ripped pants. and yes this only for one reason so you can post about it. and i can amuse myself as much as you probably have about me. ;)