My Favorite People in the World

Now, if only I could say that to some people. But, for reasons best known to the gods of the underworld, it is almost impossible for me to let idiots alone. They fascinate me.

Unlike other (normal) people I cannot pretend they're not around, pretend they're not making any sense, pretend they weren't really born. They're my entertainment and I love them... I really and truly love idiots. I'll take them over television any day of the week.

There I said it.

It's amazing what can come out of the mouth of person who has an empty head. I know my fair share of idiots (I'm really the freak and they are the flypaper), and there's one thing I can always depend on them for, and that is they never disappoint me. No, I mean seriously think about it, of all the people in the world who let you down, an idiot never will. They will always be idiotic, say something idiotic, and they're so consistent. So very, very consistent. Even the people we love, and who love us, fall short from time to time. Husbands, children, parents, pets. Almost everyone.

But, not idiots.

They say such wonderfully, stupid and ridiculous things, it's a wonder people get annoyed with them. If you stop and just listen, you are (and I can guarantee this) in for the best laughter you will ever experience.

Like, when an idiot I knew when I was pregnant, said to me, Are you scared you'll die during your delivery?

Or the other idiot I worked with who every single time the phone on my desk rang would say, Your phone is ringing.

Do you read books? (When you're reading a book) I usually slowly put down the book, and calmly ask them why they're asking. The response almost always is, Well, you're reading a book. I try not to stare at them in wonder and adoration... It never works.

The secret to loving idiots is to NOT immediately react. Pause for a moment (no matter how much you want to hit them over the head with your shoe, yell at them, invent new cuss words just for them), and then imagine telling your friends about what the idiot said, while you sip a refreshing margarita. And you will laugh... I promise, but you have to really let it sink in. Try it.

A lot of my friends don't get my fascination with idiots. They also think it's mean of me to engage the idiots in conversation just so I can laugh about it later (and maybe blog about it sometime). But, never mind that. Laughter is good. I've tried to explain how interesting I think it is that super duper thoughts just appear from nothing in an idiot's head. How does it happen? Surely it can't be credited to God? How can God in all his infinite wisdom place such absurdity into a person's empty skull? There has to be another explanation... There's another co-creator out there, I just know it.

Fascinating people, a rare species of humankind, and truly gifts to be treasured.

Moral of the story? Laugh at idiots!

How I Fell in Love With My Husband

An interesting post on a message board caught my eye today. It was a question about when everyone knew they were in love, and when they told their significant other that they loved them.

I don't remember the first time I told my husband I loved him. ***Ignores the gasps of shock and snorts of disgust***

I don't remember the moment, how I felt, whether he said it to me first, what he wore, how surprised I was or was not, if it was raining outside, nothing. He probably remembers it all, the ass. And, he'll lord it over me someday when I'm lording something over him. Again, ass!

I do however, remember all the times I fell in love with him. How many times can you fall in love with the same person? Apparently, many in my case. But, that's probably because I kept falling, and kept ignoring how much I was falling. It was not supposed to end in LOVE for heaven's sake! No, no, couldn't have any of that stuff ruining a fabulous friendship. So, I busied myself ignoring the numerous times I fell for him. Did I have issues or what?

Like the time he outrageously flirted with me at a party, and my then boyfriend was in the next room, strutting around in tailored pants he was afraid would wrinkle if he sat down. Or the time he convinced his girlfriend to chop off her locks, because I didn't like her hairstyle and mentioned it to him. Also, the time my friends asked me to cook for them, and then wouldn't eat because the food was way too spicy. Wusses! But HE ate it... And, asked for seconds. I was so happy, I pretended I couldn't hear his stomach cursing me to oblivion.

Over endless cups of coffee, in cozy cafes, late night chats on the internet, immediately after we had spent several hours together. Ridiculous email exchanges, unexpected roses for no reason at all, friendship cards, Oreo cookies, the ever available shoulder to cry on, massive arguments, our preference to talk to each other instead of the whole group which surrounded us a lot. We were falling alright, and hard. No way was I going to acknowledge it.

So, that first kiss threw me. And I panicked, for the first time in my life. Then, something, something and something more... Before I knew it, LOVE! It bitch slapped me in the face so hard, I couldn't get over it. I suppose it had, had enough of lurking in the far recesses of my mind. I'm not going to say 'heart' because that's just stupid talk... Don't you just hate it when someone says they know something in their heart? Just say 'brain', or 'mind' ffs. I suppose it sounds all mushy and sweet. I'd rather have an Oreo instead.

From there it was smooth sailing. Fast courtship (do people still say courtship?), surprise engagement (MIL, the old bag, is still reeling with the rest of her clan), small wedding (I wanted a big wedding, because I was greedy and wasteful then), twins ten months later and ,no sleep ever since. Fun!

And that's the story of how I fell in love with my husband. And, that lurrrve has kept us married for five years. Well, that and, the ability to tune out on occasion... OK, OK, more than the odd occasion. But, he tunes out more than I do... Not that I blame him, I'm a huge, incessant nag.

We didn't have the whole two strangers eyes meet across a crowded room and they know it in their hearts, that it is love stuff. Although, for those who it has happened to, great! Send me your story, I'll publish it here on my blog.

Kids and Their Caregivers... In Karachi

Putting aside my regular rants, raves and, generally bitchy stuff about this, that or the other. I'm blogging today with chills still running down my spine regarding something I witnessed this afternoon, but was unable to do anything about.

While waiting for the kidlets to get off from school, I entertained myself watching the pre-nursery kids making their way out the gate. A few with their mothers, a couple of fathers, a grandparent or two, but mostly "nannies", and... Drivers. As my eyes moved past a tantrum from a three year old, to a grandfather bending down to retrieve a fallen backpack, I noticed a little girl waiting near a car. She couldn't have been more than three or four years old. And, she was gorgeous.. All big eyes and sweet, tired smile. Her driver who was opening the car's back door, probably to set down her backpack and water bottle in the back seat, was also staring at a woman approaching the school, from across the street. Eyes fixated on her breasts, he threw the bag and bottle into the car and shut the door.

I rolled my eyes, and was just looking away, when I saw him bend down and scoop the little girl up into his arms, while his left palm slipped under her school uniform dress and, came to rest directly under her bottom, cradling it.

And, then he began to massage her bottom.

I felt my blood run cold, and instinctively started toward them. However, I didn't make it to the car in time, and he deposited her in the front passenger seat, got into the car and started to drive away. Where are her parents? screamed a voice in my head. Why do they leave their child in the hands of someone like that?

Important questions, no one answer.

It terrifies me to see such things, and makes me so mad, I could happily commit a violent act. Sadly, in Karachi I see way too much of it. From the uneducated, unqualified "nannies" slapping the hell out of toddlers, to lecherous drivers shuffling children of all ages from home to school, to tuition centers and back home. Rarely do I see parents in sight, and while I can appreciate that there are a number of mothers out working, or in some cases, busy at the hair salons they frequent, and even busier working fathers all over this city. I can't help but ask.. At what cost? Your child's innocence and well being?

Are you aware of what goes on with your child and his/her caregiver?

Is this what it means to be all about getting out there and showing just how damn westernized we are? How wonderfully liberated? Without a thought for our own children? I can rarely shake the feeling that many here do all this, not for themselves, but to prove something. And, it sickens me, because most of them have a narrow view of how things (in the west) are, and how they think they're doing a remarkable job adopting those habits.

I sit right back down in my seat and not send out that job application, not till I'm sure my kids have the safety they need in my absence, and the best care. I don't have all he answers, but neither will I ignore the questions for my own convenience. It's not easy in this city, what with little to no resources for daycare, except of course the available options of "Play Schools" which cater to the bigger wallets, (If you're middle class, forget it. You'll be paying out more than your income), or the little old lady offering inexpensive care for your child. Where the floors are dirty, and one tiny room is crammed to the max with kids ranging from four months to six years.

Of course, I'm not some comfortable, upper class suburban mom, who can afford to kick up her heels and refuse to work. Living in this city with one earning member to support a family of four is tough... doable, but tough. And, if you can't do it, or won't do it, then for goodness sakes give more than a passing thought to your child's welfare. Would random checks hurt? Do offices not allow some time off maybe once or twice a month? Can you not meet for lunch fifteen minutes later? No aunt with spare time on her hands? Can families not come together for the welfare of the kids?

I often wonder what goes through the minds of these parents, these mothers. Do they not think it's possible their child could be molested? Are they living in some kind of dream world, where they're sure their kid will inform them of any strange advances made by their driver/nanny? Do they even think their female "nanny" is a safer bet? Is the gutka chewing, filthy, man leering at women on the streets while driving their child to and from school really a saint? Does he bow his head and kiss her big begum butt so convincingly that she trusts him? What the hell is going on here?

Where are the parents? And why are so many of the more "educated" class in this city allowing this menace to exist in their own homes?

Caffeinated Confessions

Getting right to it.

1. The kids went back to school this week and, I don't know who was happier, them or me.

2. The weather has been great, all cloudy and pleasant. Yet, I want to scream when I hear
people wishing for rain.

3. I've decided to throw out most of the stuff from my closet.

4. And, buy myself a new designer wardrobe.

5. But, I'll settle for off-the-rack stuff.

6. I think Kirk Cameron is still mentally in middle school, with the whole I want to tell the
world, I won't kiss anyone but my wife thing.

7. Some people don't get why I roll my eyes at crap like this.

8. I roll my eyes at them and then laugh.

9. My kids have decided to help me plan their birthday party in November.

10. I don't appreciate them barging into my territory, and told them so.

11. My daughter refused to give in and let me plan it by myself.

12. I threatened to sell her to a sweat shop.

13. It didn't work.

14. So, I told her there would be no party.

15. She laughed.

16. I went out to a girls night thing last Saturday, then told everyone who would listen about
it.

17. Apparently, it's not a big deal, because "Women do these types of things" and I don't do it
enough.

18. I really should.

19. I have nothing else to confess.

20. I'm pathetic, I know.