Furniture Designers are Evil People Who Hate Kids.

(High End) Furniture designers are evil people who hate children (and mothers). They purposely design furniture that people with kids can’t buy ( not that we could afford it anyway). I suspect they had some sort of traumatic experience in their lives. Like maybe best friends with small children who visited once too often. Whatever, I still believe there is no excuse for their demonic furniture.  Let me introduce you to the furniture from hell…

Impractical Furniture

Treefury :“Have fun picking the Lego out of me b**ch!”

 

 

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Tibia Smasher the Wicked: “I love shins and knees. But I especially love the chins of your offspring.”

 

 

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Agrona the Poker: “Just waiting for the kids to push me over muhahahaha!”

 

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Slovenly the Spaghetti Lover: Name says it all. (It also loves play dough, mashed potatoes and Cheerios.)

 

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Jaba the Couch: “I am gargantuan, hideous and incredibly expensive. I also make embarrassing fart noises your kids will love.”

 

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Vertigo: “I can’t wait till the young ones learn to walk.” Not furniture but (stair) well deserving of mention.

 

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Poe’s Dining Pendulum: “I make sure the kids never sit still to finish their food. Ever.”

 

 

Furniture 2

Oakenfang: “Give me little fingers. Plump little fingers…..”

 

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Gollum Chair: (old, ugly, creepy and at $35000 it’s preciousssss). “We loves toeses, soft juicy toeses!”

 

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Brian Hyland Chair:

what

 

 

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Pinebelle the Insane: “once you start cleaning me…you’ll never be able to stop.”

 

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Banshee Recliner: “Hello little children, come closer. Don’t be shy…”

Which one was your favorite ( and ridiculously expensive) nightmare?

(All furniture names are a combination of my brilliant imagination and the Evil Name Generator. )

 

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House Sold

Click to read on Dawn: http://dawn.com/2012/05/06/humour-house-sold/

I sold my house before I moved back to Canada, it was quite an experience and I discovered things I couldn’t imagine about people I have known all my life.

Remember the house I got renovated? I sold it. And I moved. But that is another story. Unless you have gone mad and decided to move half way across the world — and having gone through this extremely painful process myself I would not advocate it for anyone — never sell your house. First of all you should only sell your house, if it has a leaky roof, cracked floors, and crumbling walls. Or if a close relative has passed away and left you a mansion on Tipu Sultan road.

Selling your house is an uncomfortable process; it will keep you up at nights and give you plenty of indigestion. You will have all kinds of people invading your privacy requesting tours of your house at odd hours of the day. And they will want to know why you chose to paint your daughter’s room two shades of pink and why the kitchen counters are black. They will shake their heads unbelievingly at the ‘extravagant’ price, then bug you after you sell the house to someone else, why you didn’t inform them first, because they had their hearts set on it.

A house that you have lived in for a long time becomes part of you; it hosts your celebrations and shelters your rainy days. It watches your children grow and becomes their first friend; its walls hold up everything from little pink and blue bunny rabbit cut-outs to posters of sleek cars or rock stars with bad hair-dos. It provides a personal little haven known as the bedroom, where your moody teenagers retreat to when the world doesn’t treat them right. It listens patiently, never judging, never offering unwanted advice to the angry adolescent but pacifies them with the knowledge, that here, they are accepted. It sadly hears your fights and joyfully watches reconciliations. It guards every secret obsessively.

I miss my house. And it took me months to wind everything up. Twenty years of possessions are hard to get rid of. And you won’t believe the junk I had. Actually, you probably would because every Pakistani woman has an incredible imagination when it comes to recycling. Closets that were full of spare dupattas of cast away suits, clothes piled up for repairs or distribution to various destinations, shoes that had been worn out and forgotten about, hair clips, scrunchies and makeup kits that were never used. Stashes of candy, hidden from the children. I could almost hear my house moan sadly as I continued to deprive it of all its belongings.

The kitchen cupboards were stripped of countless empty ice-cream containers, unused dishes, utensils and plastic bags. Oh how we women adore our plastic bags! Of course my maid had a field day, and I felt a bit guilty at her bliss on receiving such trivial little titbits. I know my house will miss her too. The way she helped me scrub and dust out each and every corner was admirable, getting our house ready for the new owners as we reminisced and even shed some tears together.

Sniff. Enough! Never regret a decision, it wastes too much time. Just learn from it. Which gets me to the real point. When we put our house up for sale, a wise old person told us it is ethical to ask your neighbours first if they are interested. We did, fortunately everyone already had their own house. Neighbours are one thing. Relatives are another.

Never sell your house to a relative. Especially if you are the type of person with a lot of ‘lihaaz’ (read: doormat). That is where they get you, at your lihaaz. Because of lihaaz you will sell your house at a rock bottom price and then listen quietly as your relatives whine incessantly about how broke they are. They will also want to get it renovated some more before they move in. Never mind the fact that you still live there. Lihaaz aap ko mar day ga.

After the house is sold, your relatives will come often with the pretext of helping you wind up the house. They are actually coming to make sure you don’t damage any of the walls while moving out large and heavy furniture. Speaking of large and heavy furniture, don’t bother trying to sell it or give it to any of your best friends. Your relatives will do you a big favour by insisting that you leave everything and they will take care of it for you. Later they will complain to all and sundry that you left your broken down junk for them. That ‘junk’ that will later adorn their drawing rooms.

And then of course there is the large collection of electronic gadgets that you will leave for them. And they will have the gall to phone you up to tell you the stuff you left for them (that they had asked for, by the way) doesn’t work, and it is costing them a lot to get it fixed. So you offer to give them their money back… oops, you gave it to them for free. So what to do now?

Don’t let it come to this, heed my advice and never sell your house. Especially not to relatives.

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I spent the vacation in my blue flannel pyjamas

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This is the only way to spend a winter vacation with a house full of rowdy kids. Wearing flannel pyjamas ( God bless the inventor of flannel). I planned on not taking them off (except to wash them). However husband refused to be seen in public with me wearing them, so I had to change to attend a couple of dinners and a wow birthday party. I think I could have pulled it off at the birthday party though, I mean Mickey Mouse was wearing his red pyjamas I don’t see why I couldn’t wear mine. Okay maybe they weren’t pyjamas, but they looked it.

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Since I already am a super mom(not bragging or anything) I became ultra super mom and baked an endless supply of cookies, brownies, apple pie, cheese cake and banana bread. My teenagers face-palmed as I took endless pictures of my creations. I was going to put them up all over facebook, but one of them had a delete-happy trigger finger.

I am now ultra super over weight mom.  Yes I had one cookie too many. I suspect that the cheese cake helped.

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Thanks to the ice storm we had great scenery and the hills were awesome for sledding. I hogged a whole sled to myself. I was the only forty-year old woman sledding down hills in the park.

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Nope no pictures of that! Next time I will convince husband to take a picture of me zipping down icy hills.

I did absolutely no writing at all. I did however keep the angry woman in my head under control. She really wanted to tie and gag the kids then lock them in the garage after the second day of the vacation. It is amazing how many things five kids can find to fight about. She was also tempted to hit the husband over the head with  a rolling-pin after his third day of vacation. It is amazing how much time husband can spend in front of the computer oblivious to the pandemonium his kids create.  I tied her up, gagged her and locked her in the garage.  I will let her out after I finish cleaning the gargantuan mess made by two heathen teens, three rambunctious under tens, one incredibly sloppy husband and a very lazy, blue flannel pyjama clad me. I know her fingers are itching to type out a story.

Mother’s Day Weekend

On the first night of Mother’s day weekend my family gave to me,

The chance to go out and watch Iron Man three!

On the second morning of Mother’s day weekend my family gave to me,

Two twins fighting and the chance to go out and watch Iron Man 3.

On the second afternoon of Mother’s day weekend my family gave to me,

Three older children screaming, two twins fighting and the chance to go out and watch Iron Man 3.

On the second evening of Mother’s day weekend my family gave to me,

One gone out with friends husband, three older children screaming, two twins fighting and a chance to go out and watch Iron Man 3.

On the Sunday of Mother’s day weekend my family gave to me,

Pancakes doused in syrup, one gone out with friends husband, three older children screaming, two twins fighting and a chance to go out and watch Iron Man 3.

On the Sunday evening of Mother’s day weekend my family gave to me,

A fridge depleted of groceries, a poop filled litter box, fifty loads of laundry, innumerable dirty dishes, crayon decorated walls, Cheerios covered carpets, one seriously in trouble husband, five brawling children and I don’t even remember seeing the damned movie.

On the Monday after Mother’s day weekend my family gave to me,

An empty house full of serenity.

This is what I got Sunday morning.

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And two hand-made one of a kind bracelets made from fuzzy pipe cleaners and beads obtained from Dollarama.

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This is some of what I dealt with when everyone was finally out of the house.

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There were twice as many dishes in the sink and on the counter, and some were extracted from underneath beds and desks.

What were you treated to on Mother’s day?

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All pics courtesy of moi.

Tag, You’re It!

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I was tagged by thelostkerryman for “Tagging Thyme“, thanks. You have to answer 11 weird questions then tag 11 people who would be willing to answer weird questions. I am grateful for weird people.

1. What is the strangest thing you have ever eaten in public?

Nothing terribly exotic here. I don’t eat gross stuff like escargot,  chocolate covered grasshoppers or fried snakes. And I never will. I did eat paan,ONCE,  when I was in Pakistan. That is betel leaf with yucky stuff like slaked lime (yes), tobacco and betel nut (which will break your teeth) wrapped in it. It is bitter, causes cancer and tastes like crap. Every South Asian has a thing for it. I spat it out right there in the street while being stared at by amused onlookers. I was not amused.

2. If you had to go on an adventure, with elves, dwarves, or hobbits, who would you take and why?

Well what do you think eh? Orlando Bloom, John Rhys- Davies or Elijah Wood? The elf, duh! I think the ‘why’ is self-explanatory.

3. You are at a rural retreat lodge somewhere deep in Wisconsin or Canada. You are approached by a taxidermist who hands you a stuffed badger and asks you to put it in your lap. What do you do next?

I like animals alive running around the forest with the elves.  I will probably beat the taxidermist then stuff him.

4. If you were given biscotti, would you prefer it with coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?

What the hell are those? I will have to go buy a pack, try them and get back to you. Don’t look at me like that! I have five kids, all I know about is chocolate chip cookies and Tim Horton‘s. But I like strong tea and French Vanilla Supreme.

5. In your opinion, who is the funniest man or woman alive today (comedian)

ELLEN! I love you Ellen. And you already know I love Bill Cosby. And some guy named Sugar Sammy because 1. he’s Canadian 2. he’s Indian and 3. he’s funny.

6. If you were given thirty seconds on television to say something, what would it be?

“Eh, nice weather eh?”

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7. What is your idea of the most romantic date setting ever?

I’m married to a South Asian. What the hell is romance?

8. If you could go on one date with a movie or television star, who would it be and why?

Don’t know. Ok I just don’t wanna tell you! He won’t be South Asian that’s for sure!

9. What is the worst song you have ever heard?

I don’t know about the worst song ever…actually there was one by Paul Lekakis, must be the worst ever. Whenever I hear ‘Locked out of Heaven’ by Bruno Mars I change the radio station. It really bugs me, don’t know why.

10. If you could live anywhere else, where would it be?

It would still be Canada. But I would love to be able to travel to places like Malaysia.

11. Who- in your opinion- was the greatest person to ever live?

That would have to be more than one. The Prophets, all of them. They are the best, no one can compare to their personalities.  Now I am tagging :

1. http://www.darlenefoster.ca/

2. http://mikeallegra.com/

3. http://theurgetowander.com/

4. http://snapflycook.wordpress.com/

5. http://addictivestory.wordpress.com/

6. http://catherinemjohnson.wordpress.com/ 

7. http://imdbwords.wordpress.com/

8. http://erinbradypike.com/

9. http://remediesforhealth.wordpress.com/

10. http://iamawriterdangit.wordpress.com/

11. http://seyisandradavid.org/

There were a lot of other people but I could only pick 11. I know some of you write serious blogs, but it is good to have fun once in a while!

(Pic from Google ’cause I couldn’t find the pencil sharpener eh. The other one is mine.)

What to do on a Snow Day

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I am sick today. And I sit here with a box of tissues, a bottle of hydrasense and a clove of burning garlic shoved in my aching ear. I am too sick to do anything but have random thoughts and watch boring shows on TV. Daytime television is bleh. There is more snow coming. “When the snows fall and the white winds blow…” the bus ain’t coming cause school is closed.

For Moms:

1. Make a huge amount of hot chocolate. Pour in a bottle of Benadryl. Give them as much as they like, they’ll all be out before you know it.

2. Send them outside and offer a ‘ten’ for every igloo they make. They’ll stay out of your hair the whole day. Then give them a dime for every igloo. What?

3. Send them over to Grandma’s. That is what parents are for. (Be sure to move to Florida after they get married and have their own kids.)

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For Kids:

1. Make your own hot chocolate.

2. Offer to make breakfast and let Mom go back to sleep.

3. Clean the house while Mom sleeps.

4. Take care of younger brothers and sisters while Mom sleeps.

5. Make chicken sandwiches for lunch, feed everyone, then clean up the kitchen while Mom sleeps.

6. Make Mom the best cup of coffee/tea ever and serve it to her on a tray with a flower in bed.

7. If you can’t manage all the above, take all your brothers and sisters and go over to Grandma’s. Stay there.

Any more ideas for the next snow day?

(All pics courtesy of moi taken on Feb 8)

Thanks

Thanks Fortyteen Candles for nominating my blog for the One Lovely Blog Award.

No that is not the Award, this is:

And you don’t just get an award and then do nothing but be happy about it. There are some things you have to do.

1. Give credit to the person who nominated you. Which I have done.

2. Describe 7 things about yourself. Which I have not done. Yet.

3. Nominate 15 other bloggers. Which I suppose I should do. Even though it is Friday afternoon and I am feeling very lazy.

7 Things About Me

1. I need breakfast first thing in the morning. Other wise this happens…

2. I have an obsessive-compulsive disorder for putting things in the proper place. None of my children seem to have inherited this. They insist on inheriting all my husband’s genes. They will be sorry when they one day grow up and find their houses are on “Hoarders: Buried Alive”. And I will be watching and laughing in my spotless living room.

3. After I had kids I started using Mommy language. This consists of standard sentences such as :”who ate all the ice cream?” “who didn’t flush the toilet?” “who put the cat in the freezer?” as well as “no I don’t have money” “no I have not cooked anything else for dinner besides the four course meal on the table” “no you can’t use my lipstick”. And most commonly, ” I can’t wait till you have kids of your own!”

“who took my tweezers damn it?!”

4. I forget to close the lid on the toilet at night even after reading “Good Habits my Cats Have Taught Me” by http://misanthropology101.wordpress.com/.

And my cat falls in without fail.

5. I got my eyebrows threaded and no longer look that much like Russel Brand. But my daughter still calls me Russel. 

6. That is not a picture of my eyebrow. Mine are better.

7. I don’t really care whether Robert Pattinson moved out or not. He is not really Edward Cullen people, get a life!

15 Blogs I Nominate:

1. Story Addict

2. Communicating.Across.Boundaries

3. smileinstyle

4. clotildajamcracker

5. the urge to wander

6. yummyfoodmadeeasy

7. Ashley Jillian

8. Words From The Woods

9. Writerlious

10. heylookawriterfellow

11. Paddy’s kitchen

12. Nazar Blue

13. Life Behind the Pages

14. Life As We Show It

15. Fabulous 50’s

(All pics are from Google Images)

Immigrating Granny

This is an article I wrote for July 1st’s Dawn newspaper, the editor asked me to write about settling in a new country. Since I was moving back home and it was not a new experience for me, I wrote from the view point of an old lady moving abroad from Pakistan for the first time. If you want to read about interesting things that happen when you move out of North America go and visit this great blog : http://communicatingacrossboundariesblog.com/

http://dawn.com/2012/07/01/rant-and-rave-allah-tauba/

Multicultural, confused and enjoying it.

I was feeling kind of homesick, which is confusing, because now I have two homes (Canada and Pakistan). If I stay at one, I’ll always be missing the other. This is a post I did for Karachi tips. Ever feel homesick?

Click to read:http://www.karachitips.com/blog/2012/04/26/love-from-abroad-i-miss-karachi-my-home/

House Interrupted

House Interrupted (Click link to read on Dawn)

Have you ever gotten your house renovated? I have and I would love to tell you all the fun I had with it.

The sun shines lavishly on the white sand of the beach that sparkles with the brilliance of countless tiny diamonds. The crystal clear water holds a myriad of coloured fish that float past me like butterflies. They wave out greetings as I swim past them; the ultimate vacation — I hope it never ends. Then the door bell rings! I clutch at the water which has now turned into a bed sheet and pull it over my head. I unashamedly continue to feign sleep and wait for someone else to answer the door; whoever is out there will have to be patient. Serves them right for ringing the door bell at this ungodly hour of 8am during the summer vacations.

(Yeah, yeah, I know what you are thinking: you are driving to the office at that time. Don’t hate me, because I freelance.) I am about to fall asleep, I can hear the seagulls…and the sound of a sledgehammer as it breaks cruelly into what used to be our staircase. The brilliant blue sky shatters above and falls soundlessly on my bed.

“Get up!! Mazdoors need tea!” My husband calls out the most annoying instruction of the day. Make tea for the labourers …several times a day. They are being paid by the day, which is why they keep getting sick and disappear for at least three days at a time. Today they are here, because I wasn’t expecting them and slept in. Yesterday they didn’t come because I was up early. Very early. And I had their tea ready. My husband and I ended up drinking three extra cups each because we felt bad about throwing a whole kettle full of perfectly brewed tea down the drain.

The door bell rings again and I persistently disregard it. Let the husband deal with it; if I go to check who it is, all work will immediately stop. All eyes and ears will be on me and the intruder at the door because whatever we are discussing is as important as a world cup final. And anyways it is probably the electrician so I have to make another cup of tea. Tea companies stay in business thanks to the people renovating your house. I bet they take a commission.

Husband is in heated discussion with the electrician because the “China maal” brand of electrical ‘thingamajigs’ he insisted on buying have all blown whatever it is they blow and stopped working. And he just put them in yesterday. More money out of poverty-stricken wallet and another trip to the shop and all electrical work is put on hold until “China maal” gets back and fixes everything that he screwed up yesterday. Every fuse in the house has blown and I wait for illumination and my blender to be brought back to life.

We have all gotten used to the constant hammering and thunderous crashing sounds as chunks of our house fall to join the large amount of debris lying everywhere in the garage. So when there is a sudden silence it sounds surreal. I strain my ears to hear the latest drama unfold. So do the labourers who are butchering my staircase. They need some entertainment and they know they are going to get it. This time it is the bricklayer who is putting up the beautiful grey stones on the exterior walls.

We had spent (read: wasted) an enormous amount of time planning a pattern that used the minimum amount of bricks and ordered the quantity of stones accordingly; but of course this was our biggest mistake. We should have left it up to the bricklayer; after all he is doing us a favour putting up the bricks — this gives him the right to decide where to put them and how many to use.

And boy is he generous. He has put them up — everywhere! Now we are out of bricks and he has nothing to do. Except complain that his time is being wasted as he has to wait for my husband to go out and order more bricks. I think hubby will rob a bank on the way to finance this new project. In the meantime everyone else has decided they need a much deserved tea break. A small piece of advice, never get your house renovated. Just walk around with your eyes closed and imagine you live in a palace.