Monday, September 27, 2004
that girl with the white hijaab, she was in my physics class. she's got a voice that isn't technically loud, but hard and piercing so that it's louder than any yelling. and she's got this punctilious blerghness about her, the knowitall smugness that some people have. i am better, my way is better than yours, plus i'm not going to roast my butt in hell like you are in your teeny weeny kameez and baggy shalwar and uff that hair, don't you ever brush? yes, i know i'm making gross assumptions about her and i hate it when people presume to think they know what's going on inside my head too. but it's okay, because i'm getting the flu and i'm allowed to be cranky. bwahaha. and she really is annoying. and now she's turned around to yell at a friend for laughing-'tumhare orkut profile pe "i'm a serious person", jhoot ki hudd hoti hai'
'no no you make me laugh-'
'bullshit hi hudd hoti hai'
*conversation proceeds at speed of light and sound of bullhorn*
i'm leaving in a week, and mum is getting into pre-travel super-efficiency mode. didn't help that i had only a couple of sleep hours under my belt yesterday, but i had suitcases hauled out of high cupboards, dug out sweaters and khaddar ke jorey and paisley scarves. hercules and antipodean stables, psshhh. bless sara apa and fazli for their generous closet-raiding (ahhh that coat, i want to roam around wearing it 24/7 with those grey trousers, yum!)...clothes, check. ticket, allowances, itinerary, travelling-alone-or-not: i have to call the lazy farts at the B.C. since i have the karachi number but not the lahore one (wonder why vaisay, that's a bit out-of-order), i said let's call good old information, like all PTCL-paying good little citizens do. One-Seven has gone techno, and after listening to kenny g (aaaaaaaarghh what is that, a clarinet? why does it always sound the bloody same?) interspersed with a computerized urdu and english mem voice telling me to wait because the all the operators were busy (y'ahan, at 9:45 a.m what exactly are you busy with, other than the pressing concerns of lipton and co.?) for 10 minutes i get a 'khudahafiz- gootbye' and click! when i finally got through to a woman who sounded like she had been woken from a drug-induced stupor, i got another computer voice repeating 1, 4 and 2 a bajillion times! i listened in complete befuddlement to the urdu and then the english version, writing down whatever number kept echoing and feeling very annoyed and bewildered at the resulting number on my notepad. needless to say, i didn't call the string of binary digits, Allah jaane kya tha :S i'm gonna call the karachi contact and tell him to dig up the info, bwahaha.
the boy at the PC behind me keeps sniffing, and it sounds like a fairly large, chunky animal snorting. something of a warthog perhaps. i'm tempted to hand him a tissue, but that'd be like mina-the-global-mother. ufff he's driving me mad- oh no! another one! boys never ever have tissues on them, they'll go snorting on everyone's head all the live long day but never carry tissues. aieee here he goes agian, must save myself before i throw my mousepad at his head and yell 'stooooooopppppp for the love of God, STTOOPP!!!'
Mina at 11:16 AM
