Dear "Elite" Mom

I've been growing increasingly irritated with you the last month or so, because I feel I'm being practically dragged into your sisterhood of mothers, with kids who just happen to attend the same school as mine do, yet have almost nothing in common with me. Nearly every week, I encounter one or three of you "elite" moms, and it's gotten to the point where I feel Karachi is loaded with ridiculous women. I mean thank you for inviting my kids to your child's birthday party, which resembles a circus, but it wouldn't be wise for us to meet up for coffee, or "do" lunch during the week. For one thing, I "do" lunch with my kids everyday.

Shocking!

But yes, sadly (in your opinion) this is the life I chose when I decided to stay home and raise my kids. And no, I do not have a nanny who cares for them while I attend mid week lunches, or spend hours at the salon. Sue me.

And, second of all I think it's both pathetic and hilarious that you arrive at the school gate, allow your driver to hold up traffic while he jumps out of the car, and opens your door, and you instruct one of your maids to sit still, while your two year old screams bloody murder in her lap, and then proceed to yell at the other maid to hurry up and get out of the car because you don't want to be late.

I slip my phone out of my pocket, and yeah, I don't carry my handbag to school because I have two hands to hold, two backpacks to juggle, two water bottles to prevent from being dragged on the road, and crazy traffic to fight my way through, while listening to a couple of excited voices telling me about their day. And, no I don't carry designer bags everywhere I go. But, moving on... I'm going to pretend now you don't exist, because I know you'll grab my attention in one way or another.

You don't disappoint.

I'm about to start pretending, when you march right up to the closed gate and loudly ask what time the bell rings. The guard gives you a look which says "You don't know what time your child gets off from school?" and then mumbles that you need to wait five more minutes. So, you huff and haw, till you realize there are people around you. Also waiting. Your eyes quickly pass over the two hijab clad women with whom you avoid making eye contact, as if they're contagious. You step away from the males, stare at a few maids, wrinkle your nose at another woman's shoes, and then glance down at your pretty slippers and smile.

And, then you spot me.

I pretend I'm busy texting someone on my phone.

I feel your eyes raking over my jeans and kurti, my barely combed hair, twisted into a knot and held with a clip, my phone which wild horses couldn't drag my eyes away from at that moment. You move closer... It is a Blackberry!

And, you've found a friend.

"Does your child go to school here?" You ask.

I groan inwardly, and look up at your face half hidden by massive Jackie O shades (which look ridiculous on your face btw). "Yes they do" Because you know, otherwise I would be just another psycho woman who hangs around outside school gates in the burning sun.

And, so begins the conversation

You: Which class?

Me: Kindergarten

You: Oh, my daughter is in Kindergarten.

Me: That's nice.

You: I don't usually pick her up, but the teacher wanted to see me today. She sent a note yesterday... Such short notice... I have a lunch appointment at 1:30, so this is really inconvenient.

Me: I can imagine.

Then I start my slow turn away, but it's not meant to be.

"And, my maid took the day off today, so it's been chaos since morning!"

I cannot.ever. and I mean EVER, resist this kind of stuff. I'm such a sucker for punishment, and a complete blog fodder instigator.

Me: How many maids do you have?

You: I have three... Well, two are nannies, and one does all the cleaning etc. I have a man who cooks.

And when you say "man," you do not mean "husband." I know that much.

Me: And, how many children do you have?

You (confused): Just two... That's why I have two nannies.

Me: That makes sense.

You: You know how difficult it is to manage kids, and my maid knows exactly the kind of day I would have if she doesn't show up, so she takes advantage and all these days off, and then my other maid has to neglect my daughter so she can do all the housework.

School Bell!

I smile sympathetically, but it's really a "STFU" grimace, and start walking. But, you match me step for step, rambling on about your maid problems, and the stress you endure daily at the hands of your three shrews. Then suddenly, all that's forgotten and I feel you pressing something into my hand, while you beam at me and say "Let's get together for coffee or lunch one day, it was SO nice meeting you... How about Thursday morning? Is 11:30 good? I'll ask a few friends to join us.... But, I have to be done by 1:00 because I have to be somewhere else by then."

So, while the tune for The Twilight Zone fills my head, I look down at a pretty cream color business card, with a golden motif and lettering. Your name and cell phone number printed neatly in the middle. And, nothing else. I mumble something about my kids waiting and practically run off.

Much later, once the kids have eaten lunch, and settled into boisterous play at home, I remove your embossed card from my pocket, place it on the table, pull my note book and pen toward me, and start to write.

Things to Do Before Calling and Confirming Meet-Up with School Gate Mom

Get your hair cut and styled.

Reserve a table three days a week for club coffee mornings.

Go to the gym everyday and work out.

Eat a 1500 calorie meal at some swanky place right after that.

Apply for 9-5 job, or insist J get rich enough, and then join at least two charity committees.

Employ someone to drive the car, or alternatively employ someone who will sit quietly in the back seat while you drive yourself everywhere.

Name him "Driver."

Import maids and nannies from remote villages across the country.

The younger the better.

Pretend you shop in Dubai and Europe only, but sneak into Zainab Market and buy all the export reject clothes you can.

Tut Tut and snicker at anyone who buys shoes from a Zamzama shop.

Insist J leave his job and start up some "business" so you can talk about it vaguely to your new friends.

Learn to complain incessantly about maid problems.

Find male, Bengali cook.

I rip your card to shreds and throw it in the trash.

The Imaginary Child Prodigy!

A couple of days ago while sorting through some old papers, I came across a few drawings made by my daughter, which really should have been in her box file and not mine. But, when I turned it over I knew why I had kept it. It was the first colored picture she made of the two of us together. In typical four year old style, there were two stick figures (even though I'm no stick), both with flowing long hair, and triangle looking dresses which I know she'll one day argue are "A line and cool." As I stared at the picture, smiling at the butterflies she had drawn in the background, which really resemble ants marching across the page, I noticed she had spent considerable time paying attention to detail. The shoes on both our feet (also looking like ants marching) matched, and they contrasted with our dresses, which also matched each other, while the butterflies matched the color of the dresses and shoes. "She's a regular Picasso" I thought to myself, or rather "Valentino, watch out!"

She happily attended Art Camp last year with her brother, and I ran out of places to display all sorts of strange and wonderful pieces of art they created every.single.day! We smile, we gush, we tell them it looks "FABULOUS" while racking our brains trying to guess what it really is, because they're standing there, looking at us all excited and gleeful. And, if you don't guess correctly, you're screwed!

Children are wonderful creatures.

And, they're not all geniuses!

So, now I'm going to slide into the rant you knew was coming. Mothers who give birth to budding Picassos aka child prodigies. And, I'm not talking about real child prodigies! I'm talking about the imaginary ones, some mothers insist are several cuts above their counterparts. Have you seen an oil painting done by a two year old?

I was gifted one.

It must be so satisfying to dip your child's fingers in oil paint and then forcibly drag it across a canvas, to create a riot of colors designed to look childlike, yet professional.

Who are they kidding? Other moms?

Moms who are almost daily presented with some piece of art, or a pebble dripping ink, or a cupcake with teeth dents in it, and a proud voice saying "Look Mommy, I made train tracks on the muffin!" Are they trying to kid those mothers? Well, we're not being fooled for a second.

Your child is not a genius, and you need to give it a rest. Or rather give little Jane a piece of paper and some crayons and let her draw stick figure pictures of her grandparents. Allow your child to be a child, and get over your stupid desire to raise perfect children, when you yourself are average or below that.

Stop caking their faces with makeup at beauty pageants when they're 4 years old! Or even 10. Forcing them to attend the dance classes they loathe, because you one day dreamed of being a ballerina is ridiculous. And, just because your great-uncle Jim strums a guitar at family get togethers, while singing off key, does not mean musical talent runs in your family. Doing their homework is not cool either.

And, don't even get me started on extremist red-shirting plans, when they should have started Kindergarten two years ago.

Of course people have the right to raise their kids how they want to. But, I wish these mothers would stop for a minute and think of the damage they're doing to their own child. Forget about the rest of us with kids who are just average, and might one day surprise us with some hidden talent. Think of how much your little one thinks they have to live up to? How insecure they must feel, because they know it's really Mommy who drew the picture for the competition she insisted they enter. How do you think she feels not being appreciated for who she is, and what she can do?

You're far from perfect, just like the rest of us.

Don't expect perfection from your kids.

Our New Digs!

The last couple of weeks have been nothing but a whirlwind of activity, while we packed up our stuff and moved into our new home. Good Lord! What a boring start to a blog post. Let me try again.

Moving can be a royal fucking pain in the ass!

When one has OCD!

Better?

Anyway, quick history. We were looking out for another place for a while now, and finally came across something which suited us well. However, since we're Pakistani and all, what suits us might not be considered acceptable for most people. Yes, I mean you western types. You should know that in Pakistan, everyone lives in huts.

Yes, huts!

We razed everything the British built for us after they left.

Who needs fantastic architecture right?

Contrary to what people in the west get to see on the news, Pakistan is a typical third world country, and we are poor. Dirt poor. So poor in fact, that only the very rich among us can afford to bake bricks to lay as walls for their homes. The rest of us poor folk settle for thatched roofs and bamboo walls, straw or mud flooring, and four foot holes in the ground which serve as our toilets.

But, we have wireless internet!

I get so tired of people constantly thinking we Pakistanis are a modern country. Tired of them thinking we have cable television, cars, fine dining restaurants and educational institutions. Tired of them thinking some of us actually wear western clothes, shop at malls and ***gasp*** speak English! So, I'll take this moment to give credit to my Mexican born English translator, without whom I could never blog, or sign my name. She's the "Press 1 for English" kind in case you were wondering.

Her family who have lived in America for a decade still press '2.'

So, our new house. It's fantastic, and since words cannot do it enough justice, I asked a British tourist to take a picture of it for everyone to see. In exchange I gave him some flat bread which was supposed to be my kids' dinner.

Isn't it awesome?

We're ordering our furniture from Pottery Barn!

Pictures of the interior coming soon! Have a good weekend everyone!

Valentine's Day Ideas - Umm Really?

So, I got another email forward today, and no there were no corpses in it. But, what with all the overflowing of love and mush because Valentine's day is tomorrow, this email titled "Valentine's Day Ideas" gave one some insight into how this day should be celebrated with the one you love. Honestly, they were practically insisting everyone do what they suggested.

Heading the list was

1. Think Back

It went on to ask the reader to remember those wonderful days, when they openly demonstrated their love for their spouse, in many small but meaningful ways. I remember writing little notes to my husband (then boyfriend). You know, those cute little bits of paper, with Have a great day hun, I love you... Muuuuah written in purple ink, and decorated with a few hearts? No really, I'm lying, I never did that even though I loved writing in purple ink then. So, I thought, why not write him a little note today, so I could slip it into his shoe tomorrow morning, and won't he be pleasantly surprised to find it. Grabbed my note cards, a black pen (sorry, no purple ink anymore since I'm all grown up now) and chewed the end trying to think of something romantic to write, without sounding 18.

I ended up writing out our grocery list for the week.

2. Create a Top 10 List of What You Like About Your Partner

Again, I tried...

Top 10 Things I Like About You

10. I like that you're a great father and husband, no wait.. I love that.

9. I like how you love me. Umm nope, I love that too.

8. I don't like how that sounded as if I were 15 years old

7. Oh, I like your taste in movies!

6. I like that you'll forget I said such a lame thing.

5. I can't do this.

4. Wait, let me try again.

3. I like how laid back you are.

2. This is the most asinine thing I've ever done.

1. I'd rather buy you boxers.

Moving on...

3. Jolt up happy memories with a blow-up print out of a picture of those "carefree days" and put it in a conspicuous place.

Clearly the author of that has NO idea how depressing it is to see "carefree" pictures of oneself from over a decade ago. Old pictures belong in albums for our children, and their children to laugh over. Please!

4. Instead of sitting in separate chairs while you watch your next movie on television, sit together on the couch, so that you can cuddle, and perhaps even steal a little kiss every now and then. For the Valentine weekend, you could rent a romantic movie.

What? And, not watch some thriller, while we munch take-out pizza, and maybe drink some beer while the kids sleep?

5. Give your partner a nice shoulder rub, a back or foot massage and/or a back scratching session.

Sometimes sex is the answer, believe me.

6. Make a fun desert for after dinner

Fun! After cooking all day, feeding the kids, making menu plans for the week, all I want to really do is cook some more stuff for after dinner. I'll send the kids to the neighbor's house, ignore that they have school the next day, and make dessert with the huz, so we can refuckingconnect! Lovely!

7. Heart Shaped Burgers

You are not.fucking.serious!

I don't get this.. All this "Be romantic" crap for Valentine's Day. I get that it's one of those overly commercial holidays, but can they please leave (some of) us very married people out of it? I love the odd card, and bunch of roses as much as the next wife, but my husband and I don't need to "re-connect" thank you very much. We're connected in ways most 20 somethings won't have a clue about, till they've birthed and lost sleep over a few babies of their own.

Our mundane day to day crap is what re-connects us. Those calls to say "I'll be home late," laughing together about something the kids did, talking about our tiring day every night, or even twice a week, brief "Hey, how are you doing honey?" moments all keep the love steady and strong. I no longer need to give my husband a foot massage to "bond" with him, because the looks we share over our helplessly laughing children's heads, bonds us for life. Completing years of marriage, knowing how much we've overcome, and how far we still have to go, holds us together better than concrete would. I don't have a list of 10 things I like about my husband, because I have a mental list of a billion things I love about him. He lives in our home, he earns a living which feeds my kids, he sleeps in my bed every night, he drops our kids to school each morning, he cleans up puke off the carpet ffs.

That's better than any store bought Hallmark card, my friends. And, if I want to just kick back, and relax in my PJs, while watching a movie with my husband this Valentine's Day, I will. Our sex life will not suffer for it, so screw you.

Happy Valentine's Day honey, I love you! Don't forget I still love purple roses! :D

Good Morning, Gone Bad!

So, picture this. You're up early on a lovely Wednesday morning, enjoy a nice cup of coffee out on your balcony, before you wake the huz and kids. You get them ready (the kids, not the huz), pack their lunches, and spend a good ten extra minutes taking care of those "must dos" they probably plan and plot every night to spring on your already cluttered brain each a.m. I must remove my pencil case from my backpack, rearrange it's contents, and put it back in... I must, I must! or I must ask Mommy if I can take my favorite doll to school, or my other favorite doll, or my other, other favorite doll. You get the picture. So, once they all leave, and silence descends, what do you do?

The laundry!

Well, yes, but only after you make yourself a nice big mug of coffee, and either watch the news, or go online. You never do laundry before you de-stress from the morning's madness. Never! And, if you do, then stop doing it, because it makes the rest of us lazy ass stay at home parents look bad.

Right, so you were supposed to be picturing something, and here it is again. The kids are gone, the spouse has left for work, you have your coffee cup steaming, the house is quiet and humming, and everything is lovely. Then you check your email, and there's one from estranged FIL. Nothing to be alarmed about, since all mails from the in-law camp are email forwards. You know, those annoying and crappy mails which you just delete without another thought? So, you get ready to hit 'delete' when you notice the title "Incorruptible Corpses."

Hmmm could this be some scientific article? You wonder, and you click 'Open'

BAD move!

Very bad!

Image after image after damn image of saint corpses! Or corpses of saints.

I mean... Who? Why? WTF?

Who sends people shit like that? Why the hell do they need to send it to anyone? WTF is their problem? Seriously!

And, some of them had their eyes open! OMG it freaked me the hell out! Like who the fuck wouldn't be freaked out by an image of an eyes open corpse of Imelda Lambertini, who apparently is some fourteenth century saint, who was twelve years old when she died?

Twelve!

Eyes wide open!

Corpse!

For the love of God, would people please, please stop ramming all this religious stuff down everyone's throats already? I am so sick of this shit, honestly! And, if that wasn't enough, there was all this bolded text praising Jesus and God. Really? You're praising God for a corpse? Have you stopped taking your meds? Do you even have meds? Is it OK if I insist you take meds? Like right now?

It's bad enough living in a place, where every other day you're subjected to news stories of violence, and horrible images, without having to open your personal email and see more crap. Now, I'll be dreaming about Imelda and all those saint corpses all night.

Message: Catholics! Bury your dead... PLEASE!

Mommy Confession: I Hired a Maid

And, being a stay at home mom, that tops the list of being a lazy slob doesn't it? I mean aside from the bon bons I spent years eating, while I watched soaps on TV and ignored my children, I wasn't satisfied with my laziness. No, I had to go and hire a maid to clean my house. I'm a terrible human being! This wasn't an easy decision to reach, and I spent many months contemplating whether getting some help would be a good idea or not. Then of course, I asked myself the questions which needed to be asked, and now you can sit back and picture me having a discussion with myself, while I lay in bed exhausted one night a few weeks ago.

Do you need help?

Probably not.

Are you tired?

Hell yes!

Do you accept defeat that it's all becoming impossible to handle yourself?

Never!

Can you make up your damn mind?

Fine! I'll hire someone to take over my house and my life, maybe she can also be J's second wife.

Stop being so melodramatic, and stop rhyming words ffs!

I'm not hiring help, because I'm not a working mother

Oh please! Think of long coffee mornings and true peace.

Sold!

Good girl!

I'll give it a one month trial.

Pain in the ass!

So, now I have a maid, who is not a child, or even a teenager, or even a young adult, but neither is she old. And, I still do the laundry. Don't ask why, because it has something to do with a temporarily faulty machine which the maid cannot handle. No, I don't want any big wig company gifting me a spanking new washing machine. Oh wait, why would they care? I'm not a millionaire blogger. **snicker**

Anyway, so much for quiet, peaceful coffee mornings. Not that it's not fun, I really don't have much to do after the natives leave the house. Of course, the hour and a half before they all leave is enough to drain half my energy. But, overall I'm in a much better mood when the kids come home, have more energy to spend time with them doing kid stuff, help with homework, and cook their favorite meals. I could get addicted to this fancy life.

Or, I could get a job.

Which is another thing I have time for now. Seriously, I actually have time to job hunt, but I sit here writing something which is not job related at all. Judge me all you want, but I earned this vacation. I have twins you know, with no maid, no help, no babysitter, nothing for five years. Five! If you think it's not that bad, may you be "blessed" with twinfants and no assistance. That's all I'm going to say about that. Don't knock the SAHM lifestyle until you've tried it my friends. It's not as easy as we make it look! And, no I am NOT, repeat NOT saying working mothers are horrible parents and have it easy, so please let's not make it about that. Besides, the term "working mother" is redundant isn't it?

Daddies be quiet, this is not about you.

It's about me.

And, my maid.

She's working out really well surprisingly. And, I don't even have to stalk her and insist she do this or that, and anyone living in PK will appreciate what I'm saying. In fact, if I tell them she actually thinks for herself and sticks to a schedule, they might want to steal her from me, and keep her in a glass case in their living room, so they can pay her homage.

Life is good with her around (by good, I mean easier) and I truly am enjoying the break, working on long forgotten projects I planned but never had time for.

Like hour long showers.

Moral of the story: Don't be ashamed to get some domestic help, even if you're a stay at home mom.

Saying 'F-You' the Internet Way!

I'll apologize in advance for any typos in this post, since I just saw a bright, shocking pink van pass by below my balcony. On a cold, dreary winter evening like this, it nearly blinded me much like Mariah Carey's bling must have blinded all those who caught a glimpse of her, at the Golden Globes this year. What is up with that woman and her horrendous dress sense? And, who was that little boy with her? Is that the male mid-life crises, sports car equivalent for women now?

So, this week has been busy with the usual this, that, kids and the other. Being online has been nothing but a headache, and I was about ready to burn switch off my computer for a while, and take a break from way too much drama, when I noticed I'd been defriended by someone on Facebook. Now, this is only the second (or third) time this has happened to me in the last three years that I know of, because really, I don't login everyday and count how many friends I have online. Who cares right?

Anyway, it got me thinking about the craziness surrounding online interaction, and how social networks, message boards, chat services etc. all enable passive aggressive behavior. Stop and think for a moment... How many "Fuck you" buttons are there available online which don't really let you say what you want to say, but allow you to be passive aggressive?

The Ignore Button

It's available on message boards, on chat. Facebook calls their one the "Hide" button... And, even your cell phone probably has one for calls you want to avoid right? So, now you have the option of not reading stuff you don't want to read, from people who are on your "friends" list. It's so easy to click that little button, and if you do it a lot, then I'm betting you don't have the balls to tell your friends to just shut the fuck up when they spew out crap. Oh, and hiding Farmville and CafeWorld updates on Facebook does not count. I do it all the time, because I'm not interested in how many imaginary beef stews someone has on their online stove, that they made too much of, and absolutely must share with all their six hundred friends, eight times a day.

The Report Button

Really! Is this Kindergarten? Do these sites not realize how much they're enabling the uptight people who lack spine? Some people like to report everything! They're like dude, she posted the word "sex" in her response to me, that's totally unacceptable, I think she's a closet lesbian, and that goes against my religious beliefs which require me to wear magical underpants (even though I do think she's hot), so I'm going to report her post! And, before you know it, some pompous moderator sends you an email asking you to refrain from intimidating other posters with your trash talk. Because, apparently the word 'sex' reminds some people how little of it they get, and that's not right.

The Remove from Friends Button

Aka the de-friend button in Facebook jargon. And, this has undoubtedly got to be the most childish, idiotic and cowardly button of all. I understand many friendships end, but come on people... No need to abuse the button. Again, for those who lack the balls to actually send someone a note saying Hey, this friendship is over, it's perfect! Whatever happened to good old fashioned "Getting it off your chest" "Talking it out" "Addressing the issue" with a friend? Not that it's not healthy to cut the toxic ones out of your life sometimes, but having the option to just remove someone from your online social circle with one click, is driving people to some pretty pathetic behavior. We're all like OMG she posted six comments to her other friend's status update, and didn't even "Like" mine... Defriend, defriend, defriend! I'm all powerful, you don't deserve to socialize with me on Facebook anymore. So there!

WTF?

The Like Button (OK, not officially a passive aggressive one, but...)

... Why no 'Dislike' button? And, if someone doesn't click the 'Like' button on my update, should I assume they don't like it? If I were insecure, I'd stay up nights wondering why no one likes the song lyric I posted recently because I was bored. They didn't click the button, they must hate me, so I'll defriend them now, the traitorous gits!

The Ban Button

A power hungry, message board administrator's dream. Enough said!

The Block Button

Seriously? If it's not a stalker who wants your body, what is the need may I ask? Is defriending someone not enough? No, let's block them and really show our loathing.... From behind the screen, where we're safe, and they can't find us... Ever! After we change our phone number, or move to Tibet.

Why do so many social networks enable this piss poor behavior? I thought the internet was all about bringing people together, opening up lines of communication never known before, giving people a platform to express themselves, share thoughts, ideas, likes, dislikes. A place where adults can interact without imagining they're in grade school.

Why are we screwing it up for ourselves?

The Green Eyed, Hateful Kind!

So, I'm going to talk about hate filled people today, and not just your average hate filled person. There is one particular brand of people who go through life hating everyone, and they are none other than... Social outcasts. Not, the ones who try to fit in, not the ones who get shunned for their looks or brains, but the ones who envy everyone and everything around them, instead of just attempting to better themselves.

Do you remember this type of person in high school?

She was always the one glaring at you when you laughed, turning her nose up your new outfit, tattling to the teacher for imagined offenses, spying/stalking/eavesdropping and generally making a nuisance of herself, so much so that everyone avoided her.

And, then she cried foul.

Because she was hateful.

And, a fugmuppet*.

Later, she grew up physically and didn't like what she saw in the mirror, because all that frowning and nose wrinkling etched a permanent look of disdain on her face, which no amount of face cream could ever erase. And, so she hated people more, because she was unhappy with herself. She then proceeded to stir shit every chance she got, and loathed anyone who was liked and respected. She's still visible in groups today, buttering up the right people, handing out sob stories to win sympathy, and attempting humor which makes little to no sense. She puts on a fake face and wins attention.

While inside, she's still seething.

And, plotting her revenge.

I've always disliked this kind of person, and got into way too much trouble in school defending people who she decided she hated. I was also on the hate list, but didn't give a rat's ass generally, because I'm tough, what with being a Pakistani chick and all. What startles me though, is how this hate is carried into adulthood and how much it grows. It's very, very sad, and downright ridiculous. People like this really need to find their own island, and live together in perfect haterimony.

But, of course they won't.

And, now with the internet, and it's various social networks, they're full of glee as they sit protected behind a screen and spew their venom, and imagine all the fun everyone else is having at their expense. Why they don't move on, and get some therapy is beyond me. I mean, I know it's not possible for them to get laid regularly, or even occasionally, but really!

Buy a vibrator!

And, leave people alone.

I've always taken the internet for what it really is. A nice resource, and a time suck. It's perfect for everyone who cares to have a little down time, catch up with friends, exchange jokes, stories, links, constantly update on Twitter and Facebook.. Indulge in wasteful creative blogging. So, when I log on, the last thing I want to see is crap ass drama.. Not that I don't enjoy drama from time to time, but it has to be good. I mean if you're going to do the wrong thing and create trouble, at least put some effort into it, and do it right. Sitting in back rooms plotting the destruction of nice people, with your own hateful kind is not the way to go. Stalking is not cool either, and on the internet it just makes you look pathetic. So, please be constructive.

And, start by getting a life!

*Thanks G - Your expressions are the best!