I should have a Pinterest board of twerking videos... said, no one ever.

It's 6:22 am and I am yet to fall asleep. I don't think I should be writing posts in this state.

I've got mad baby fever, y'all. Like to the point I need a bigger box for all of the clothes I've bought my unborn child. It's scary, I know. And let's not even discuss my future child's Pinterest board...

Every month I let myself believe that I'm pregnant, and then I realize I'm not and spend a few days eating chocolate and watching episodes of Big Bang Theory on my bed. 

Zak and I have always said that if it wasn't meant to be, that it was ok, and that what we have now is more than enough. And though I believe we will pull through not having children, I still think that both of us would feel a tad incomplete. 

Ok, enough of the depressed ranting, does anyone ever forget how old they are? Someone asked me how old I was the other day and my mind went blank and I blurted 23. I'm sure they thought I was being anal and trying to appear younger than them, but meh, who cares. Afterwards, I had an hour-long debate on whether I was 27 or 28, in my head mind you. Turns out, I'm 26! I had to actually do the subtract-the-year-you-were-born-from-this-year calculation to figure it out. I'm completely fucked if I have memory problems now itself.

Dad's back in Sri Lanka. He's still not 100%... I don't think he ever will be actually. Zak and I are planning on going to Bangladesh for a month with him; Zak's never met my father's side of the family. This could either be a really fun trip, or it could lead to Zak questioning our marriage. I'll let you know how it goes, if we go.

Completely out of the blue, but have ya'll watched Busta Rhymes's 'Twerk It' music video? I'm not going to lie, when I initially heard the song, I had to Google what 'twerk' was... this could be an entirely different blog post: "My Twerk Adventures: To Thongs & Beyond". My eyes are forever burned with the images of all that ass. Even female artists have music videos with a whole lotta females... when are we going to accept male video ho's? hos'? hos? What's the plural of 'ho'? Anyway, watch the music video. If my eyes are fucked, yours should be too.

I have to say that the 'twerk' Google search led to a video of Miley Cyrus twerking in a unicorn onesie. I don't understand the unicorn, but the girl's got rhythm! And plus that song 'Wop' by J Dash is amazeballs.

I need some sheesha and a Cadbury Mousse Double Chocolate chocolate bar. Has anyone had one of these? DROOL.

Flying Cockroaches... I shit you not.

Today, while attempting to make dinner for the family, I screamed in horror thrice. Thrice, I tell you. Once, because of a cockroach, the second time because of a gecko, and the third because of a frog. I might as well live in the fucking zoo people. These might not seem like reasons to scream, but let me explain.

Cockroaches in Sri Lanka aren't like the ones back home, small and annoying. These are terror-inflicting, HUGE, cockroaches that fly! They fly people - let's all take a moment to let that sink in. Here I was carrying my dinner goodies, and BHAM, flying cockroach right in front of me. I would have dropped everything and ran for life, but Zak would have killed me if I made him go out to buy eggs again. So I ran, with everything intact, and hid behind a wall while my YOUNGER sister-in-law, Zara, got rid of the evil monster with a broom. Poor child probably wonders what her brother sees in me...

My cockroach killer, 

and sister from another mister, Zara. 

Now confident that the cockroach is gone, I open the kitchen door, and SPLAT, a gecko that was probably on the door just fell smack down near my feet. Who would not yell?!? At this point, I'm thinking fuck it, let's order pizza. But Zak had really wanted club sandwiches and I feel that as his wife, the least I could do is make the dude a sandwich, since my cleaning and cooking skills are nonexistent. Again, let's move on...

So there I am frying my bacon when Zara comes into the kitchen and is all, "don't freak out, but there is a frog behind the sink." And of course, as soon as I heard her telling me not to freak out, I back away from the kitchen, matchbox in hand, just ready to burn the mother fucker down and blame Zak's need of a club sandwich. A frog the size of Texas is standing behind my sink, just staring me down.

"So, you're frying bacon? I like bacon. Ribbit bitch, ribbit." 

How the hell do you get rid of a frog? There I was waving my arms screaming "blusfbuighdfiugbkdfsjgbfuckyousidfugbkdsdsu" and dude wasn't even budging. I tried throwing things NEAR it, because though I didn't want it there, I didn't want it hurt either, but no such luck. Eventually, I went back to my stove and made the sandwiches while peering over my shoulder a billion times. He was still there half an hour later, his beady little eyes just watching my every move. 

This is why I don't cook. It's because our kitchen is a fucking zoo. 

On to another cockroach related story that occurred today. So my sister-in-laws and I were at tharawee prayers today; I can't explain what tharawee prayers are because I barely understand it myself, so Google people. Whilst praying, a person should be so concentrated on their prayer that they are not distracted by their surroundings. They shouldn't sing along in their heads to music videos playing on the TV in the other room, nor should they laugh uncontrollably at things they remembered which happened two days back at the grocery store. You get the point, don't get distracted, and don't let anything stop you from finishing. 

So there we were, right toward the end of the second rakhat when SMACK, I hear something land on the floor beside my sister-in-law, Shaba. I can tell there's something dark there but I can't be sure what it is since my eyes shouldn't wander. From the corner of my eye, I can see it crawling, and then I figure screw it - I need to know what that is. And as I take a sly peak, my eyes widen in horror and I'm immediately wondering whether God will forgive me if I skip out in the middle of prayer due to this. A cockroach, a FLYING cockroach, is three feet away from me and the only thing between me and the monster is my sister-in-law. I made a back up plan in my head - I love Shaba, but if the cockroach were to head toward me, I'd throw her at the cockroach so it would get distracted while I made a run for it. She'd understand, I think. 

And as soon as I said my salams, I was gone! I was behind the pillar, holding on to Zara as a shield/ sacrifice. Someone took care of it and prayers continued as normal, but for the rest of the night, I was  constantly on the look out. Stupid flying cockroach...

This, my friend, is a flying cockroach. It's about the size of your pinky finger. Would this not make you throw your loved ones as sacrifices while you made a run for it? Don't judge me.

Also, I stole that image off Google. No one reads my posts, but if this is your picture, I apologize and will take it down if you would like me to. 

Asshole. 

Note: I later realized that this post made Sri Lanka seem as if it was just brimming with cockroaches. This is actually not true. I see a cockroach once a month or so, and usually that's outside. So if you're planning on visiting Sri Lanka, don't let this post throw you off. One cockroach is so worth the billion other things this island offers. 

The time I was almost KILLED by an axe-wielding MURDERER

And by 'killed', I mean that he was the one who almost died, and by 'axe-wielding murderer', I mean a peeping tom. 

My bathroom has an itty-bitty window. I don't usually like the idea of having a window in the bathroom and I don't know why it was put there, but for Sri Lankan architecture, this isn't the most unusual thing I've seen. Moving on, behind said window is a tiny balcony, and by tiny, I mean that if I have a meal out there, it might take some time before I can turn around to come back in the house. Since all of this is on the second floor and the only thing visible from it is sky and the very top of my neighbors house, I never really bothered with putting curtains or taking any privacy measures. I'm not worried about birds watching me shower, though maybe I should be... Do you think birds would call their bird friends and be like, "Hey dude, check her out. She's showering. No, put down the worm, this is far better." 

Let's move on...

When I initially moved in, there were numerous occasions where I scared myself shitless going in to the bathroom at night. (Pun intended.) The bright lights would cause me to holler out and get in to a kung-fu ninja pose as I saw my own reflection in the window. Over the years, Zak and I have become used to it, and stopped training for our black belt in the bathroom. Until that one awful night...

It's two am. I had been doing some work in the home office and Zak had just returned from a night out with the boys. Going through our nightly ritual, the both of us headed toward the bathroom NEKKID AS A NEWBORN BABY. As we brush our teeth, I notice Zak looking at the window and then back at the mirror. Again, he looks at the window, and at this point, I was all "WTF are you doing? Either brush your teeth or back away from the sink fool!" And that's when I noticed a man at our mutha fuckin window. A man, y'all. Not our reflections, but a grown ass man. And it was around that time that I screamed bloody murder. My reaction seemed to set the peeping tom off, because as he realized that I saw him, his eyes widened and I saw him struggle. The fool must have thought we had reverse tinted windows or some shit, because to be at the angle he was, he had to have stood on the balcony rail, to PLASTER his face to our window. 

 

I continued to stand in the middle of my bathroom, goodies on display, wielding a toothbrush with toothpaste frothing at my mouth, screaming bloody murder. I admit, not one of my finest moments. I realize that Zak was doing something, but I wouldn't be able to tell you what if my life depended on it. As we ran downstairs, with clothes on (just to clarify), my sister in laws came running out of their room. They had heard the initial screaming but decided that I was probably screaming at the sight of a dead cockroach. No one takes me seriously anymore, but that's another blog post. "It was a man!", I yelled. "A REAL MAN!" They all turned to Zak to confirm - again lets reiterate that I am not taken seriously in this house. Cautiously opening the backdoor armed with mace, a cricket bat*, and a cell phone, we realized we were too late and that the peeping bastard (no longer referred to as 'Tom'), had gotten away by breaking our pipes and falling over the neighbor's wall. Had we had crappier pipes, he would have fallen to his death at our (back) door step. Maybe not death - how high up does a person have to be to die from a fall? Moving on...

The very next day, Zak came home with some sort of window-boarding-up device that not only keeps away wandering eyes, but no longer allows me to open up the window and let some sunshine and fresh air in. I now call it the window of death. I think the birds don't like the new window either; I saw a flock of them lined up behind my house a couple of days later protesting, or they might have been eyeing my open trash can. I'm not sure. 

The lesson here is that someone should create toothbrushes with mace sprays on the bottom. This might lead to a few terribly embarrassing emergency room stories, but in my case, they would be worth it! 

* For those who got confused at the words 'cricket bat', I like to explain it as an Asian baseball bat. It's flat rather than round, but it serves the same purpose. And the men swinging them professionally wear tight pants too, so everything's ok. 

Picture of the now boarded up window that keeps away prying eyes, birds and clouds. Oh, and my reflection and something hanging on my bathroom door. 

Pricks, Google, and Ramadan

I just spent half an hour writing a post on how I hated selfish, greedy, pricks and how I wanted to go Dexter Morgan on a few people's asses... I then deleted the entire thing because I realized that acting polite to these people and then bitching about them behind their back is skank. Being nice to people I hate doesn't make me two-faced; it just means that I was raised with manners.

So it's 1:30 am and I just spent an hour googling shit like "endometrial cancer running in the family" and "chances of breast cancer". I'm fucking scared shitless that I am going to die of cancer. I know that I am going to die, and I know that I have no say in when and where, but I really don't want to die from cancer. 

I saw what my mother fought. I saw what she put up with for two and a half years. Quite honestly, I don't think I'm strong enough to handle it as well as she did. I feel like no matter what I do, my fate is sealed. "Well you have this cancer gene in you, and when you try to take steps to protect yourself, this gene will probably attack you in another form and more viciously." Wow, well thanks. That sounds like a bag of fucking sunshine. 

Oh well. I can only (think I) control a minimum amount of shit; everything else is in God's hands. 

On another note, Ramadan is around the corner. Woot woot. Big ups to the Man upstairs for making it easy to erase a year's sins with a month of dedication. I'm kind of super excited this year - I can actually read a bit of Arabic and I know how to pray now! What what! Plus, my Eid shalwar is super sexy! Lol. 

Zak's snoring away. I'm jealous that I don't have his sleeping habits. He can wake up at 10 am and be ready for a nap at 2 pm. Stupid Maste Kalander. 

Buying a shalwar was kind of difficult today. It made me think of mom and her ridiculous love of shalwars. 

Oif. 

Hey! Look what I found!

So a couple days back, a great-aunt passed away. She was going to turn 86 on the 22nd of this month. 

Her funeral was kind of depressing. She lived for 86 years and she had absolutely nothing to show for it. No one was really even bothered that she had died. It's like it didn't even matter. 

She had never gotten married. She went through some major Romeo/Juliet loss in her teens and then decided that she was never going to get married. She probably regretted that decision for the rest of her life. 

I mean who wants to grow old alone and without anyone to love or care for them? That's seems like the stupidest decision in the world. 

So on a whole other note, I noticed something very odd at Sri Lankan/ Muslim funerals. The ritual is that the person is bathed, dress, and covered in like a blanket or something. Then they place a handkerchief over their face. That's not odd, I guess. It's ritual. But then, when ever someone comes to pay their respects, everyone runs to quickly lift the handkerchief and show them the face. Then the visitor is left with this uncomfortable action of just staring at a dead person's face. I wonder whether people actually take that time to say goodbye. 

The morbid part is the person who excitedly runs over to lift the handkerchief. It's like, "Hey look what's underneath here. Cool right?"