The Talpur's need to be brought to Justice!

Talpurs You can drive around your expensive cars screeching at the world....we dont care... You can get into your little phuddas with other violent peers and walk away....its on you... You can waste your "wealth" and flaunt it to make you penises appear bigger....sure if that makes you happy... BUT YOU WILL NOT MURDER PEOPLE AND GET AWAY WITH IT! May karma get you for the rest of your lives.

RIP Shahzeb Khan. Another soul lost to the injustice in Pakistan. How many more till someone wakes up and stands up to these hideous monsters.

Eye Candy: 20 of the Hottest Men in Pakistan

This made my day =) For once I actually agree with the list. No one is denying that delicious Fawad deserved to be on the top. And on another note. Who is this gorgeous hunk. I have a new crush! mustnotfacebookstalk......

You can read the entire list here.

A Life Revealed.....Sharbat Gul

I have always wondered what the girl in the photograph was doing now. Finally I know.

Girl Power!

Namira Salim Will Be The First Pakistani To Go In Space!!!

Islamabad: After several distinctive journeys in a short life, ambitious Pakistani woman Namira Salim eyes for another triumph as she will now be becoming the first Pakistani to go into space. A 37-year-old explorer Namira Salim has already been to both poles, skydived over Mount Everest and set up country’s first consulate in Monaco. More can be found here

Rabia Imran (Shahbaz Sharif) the world is still waiting for your apology?

plus by the looks of her obesity, she would have been better off not eating pastries and cakes. He was doing you a favor. Hijabs dont get you into heaven....compassion and kindness does.

The first preview of Tanhaiyan's sequel

Seems a little forced. But I still have high hopes. I want some light fun, nostalgic evenings with my laptop. Fingers crossed.

The beauty of Copy and Paste - Shahbaz Sharif's assistant!

Although I appreciate Shahbaz Sharif's assistant's "copy and paste" standard reply to all the facebook messages he has received. BUT, I am sorry justice is NOT being served.

Binder Full of Women

Yay Whoopi for standing up for Artis!

Although I cant stand this show, I am glad that some of the women on the show said the right thing! Shi'dia Lane needs to pay the price for this so other Shi'dia's sit their asses down on the bus instead of yelling screaming spitting and hitting. Whats the latest update on Hughes? Has he gotten his job back?

Rabia Imran (Shahbaz Sharif's daughter) you are a BITCH!

I dont usually like to blog such hateful words but enough is enough! I will stoop to her level. if you dont have time to watch the whole video just start from the atrocity that begins at the 7:45 mark. Oh and Shahbaz Sharif...is this your upbringing? Do you really think you run the world? Where is Amnesty International? Where are all the Human Rights advocates? Cant they stand up to corrupt politicians in Pakistan? They are the real terrorists! How much more evidence do you need! Who does she think she is? Who does her father think he is?

Oh and I dont care how many of these idiot guards and thugs you fire Mr. Shabaz. That is just more insult to injury. You wont appease anyone that easily, dont insult our intelligence! That is not the solution. Your daughter Rabia Imran needs to go on public television and apologize to the shop worker. How do people like you live with yourself? These are human beings you idiots not animals! Dear readers, i strongly urge everyone to share this post with others. and if you can please send Mr. Shahbaz Sharif a message on his facebook page right here. http://www.facebook.com/Sharif.Shehbaz

UPDATE: Apparently Shahbaz Sharif's son in law has been arrested for an evening and the guards/thug entourage were also arrested. I wonder if the jail the Badmash Sharif clan live in is comparable to a 5 star suite. Will the arrest record be expunged with devious means and connections by the Sharif clan? Anyway thats besides the point. Rabia Imran STILL needs to go on public television and apologize to the shop owner for her actions. she is the BITCH who started this all! I am a woman and I need to hear this woman's apology! Does anyone have any update on the shop worker? I fear his life is in jeopardy. No telling what these disgusting loons are capable of.

LOVE Madonna!

There may be many Nicki Minaj's, Lady Gagas, KeShas and Rihannas..... BUT there is only ONE Madonna! Props for her salute to Malala by tattooing her name on her back during a concert! But lets all, also pay tribute to the other few girls who also got injured in the process. They are victims too and deserve ou sopport as well.

Artis Hughes Deserves an apology and his job back!

I am a feminist... I am a supporter of peace... but in this case I stand with the bus driver! If we do not penalise Shi'dia Lane the self-proclaimed 'victim'.....we send the wrong message. Girls like her who think they are tough....start fights with people who dont fight back....and throw in punches to girls and guys...are NOT victims! She is the one who needs to be prosecuted so other females should know not to act tough and hit people. The video can be found here. More details about the incident here I am glad the witnesses stood up to protect Hughes.

UPDATE: Please sign this petition now. https://www.change.org/en-GB/petitions/reinstate-artis-hughes-the-bus-driver-who-fought-off-his-female-attacker

If the US insists on drone attacks, the least they can do is aim better!

I have no words....none whatsoever...

An amazing review of my book! =)

Review by Sohail Malik I sit My scarf fallen from my head I don’t care if a stranger sees my hair My senses embrace me, Let nothing disturb This domain of pleasure (Waves of Pleasure by Miraji) Translated by Mahmood Jamal

Decades ago, Mohammad Sanaullah (Miraji) penned some provocative poems exploring sexuality and erotic themes. He was ridiculed by his contemporaries and never achieved the acclaim he deserved. Nevertheless, his books adorned shelves of thousands who admired his work but lacked the courage to publicly give him his due respect. I like to believe that Miraji coveted the admiration of his readers more than the accolades from his contemporaries. Padash is the bolder version of Miraji. Being a woman from a culture where the honor of the country remains tied to women’s chastity, Padash has taken the same leap Miraji took years ago. Her first book “Talking on Paper, Confessions of a Girl with a Loose Churucter” will ruffle some feathers and may even invite the wrath from the guardians of honor. A few will pass contemptuous judgments but there will be plenty like me who would keep the book in their collection. I have a feeling that she like Miraji, would be least concerned with the labels the moral judges will assign her but would relish the thought that some admire her for having the courage to live life on her own terms. Talking on paper is a journey of a young child growing up in a culture where being cool is akin to being westernized. Padash shares how incompatible influences shape the thought process of child in her quest to find her identity. It starts from the elite schools of Islamabad, through the secret world of private parties where drugs and alcohol flow free and eventually into the web of forbidden liaisons. Underlying in each of her short stories is the inexplicable battle for identity, reconstruction of destroyed self esteem and innate desire for self fulfillment. Padash hits the nerves in her comparison of true friendships with those that are forged for convenience. She brilliantly expands upon the profound effect of loyalty and betrayal upon the young impressionable minds. Her book is far more than the salacious escapades of a rebellious girl. It is the first hand account of how important it is to nurture the self esteem of our youth and the need to communicate and reach out to the children. Furthermore, Padash’s stories are protest against the dogmas that require sacrifice of dreams and aspirations of girls in favor of marital security. In the process she also disrobes the men who hide under the shroud of nobility and no doubt will be the first to cast judgment on her yet are guilty of the same indiscretions. Why Yes! Or should it be Gee Haan? Talking on Paper is a guaranteed page turner provided you can put away your moral compass. You may not agree with Padash’s lifestyle or the choices she has made in her life. Nevertheless, it is her choices, her life and her decisions. If you can respect her right to live life on her terms then take a chance. Get the book. Read it with the open mind. It is engrossing and Padash is truly gifted with the art of expression. Additionally, the sexcapades of a Pakistani female will be used not to exploit but to benefit the exploited since all proceeds go towards a worthy cause. Geen Haan (since it would be blasphemous to use Why Yes) she is a looker, a great writer and is compassionate. Should anything else really matter? I have never met the author or know if these stories are real or imagined. She has however become a virtual friend and I cherish the brief exchanges we have on the digital world. Padash breathes on the pages of “Talking on Paper” and is best encapsulated by Kishwar Nazli in her poem “I am not that Woman”. A couplet from that poem in her honor for having the courage to write her first book. I am the one you crushed with the weight of custom and tradition not knowing that light cannot be hidden in darkness. Remember me, I am the one in whose lap you picked flowers and planted thorns and embers not knowing that chains cannot smother my fragrance. (Translated by Mahmood Jamal)

Yeah we 47%, we grew up on da streets Romney...Sesame Streets!

"Now I am unemployed and homeless....let me show you REAL grouchy!!!" - Oscar the Grouch

"Yes I work legally for PBS..." - Bob The Builder.

"Cant we just stay married? we have been in love for 40 years?" - Bert and Ernie

"I didnt need Food Stamps, till you laid me off!" - Cookie Monster

Mitt Romney Style!

Thanks Sohail Malik for sharing this!

CollegeHumor's Favorite Funny Videos

"In the choice between love and hate, choose LOVE!'

Responding to hate-speech, by teaching haters how to speak. Thanks to these amazing Christian and Rabbi organizations that make me proud to be a Muslim living in the US. Ads have been paid out of their own pockets. Please take the time to visit their pages, to thank them and also to donate: Sojourners Magazine http://sojo.net/magazine Rabbis for Human Rights-North America http://www.rhr-na.org/ United Methodist Women http://new.gbgm-umc.org/umw/

I scream, your scream, we all scream against ignorance!

The hateful owner then had this to say.

Mr Schaeffer told the Bozeman Daily Chronicle that there was an icon next to the customer's Facebook profile that led him to believe he was in Pakistan. He said his response was merely a statement of fact and that he never intended to be offensive. A screenshot of the conversation, which blurs the names of those involved, shows that the Facebook comment from the customer had a location stamp of Sheridan, Wyoming. 'I apologize if he took it wrong, that’s not what I meant by it. I guess I didn’t read the whole thing,' he told the newspaper.

I have never eben heard of this ice cream, but I guess I wont be buying any from here any time soon. Besides I am a Frozen Yogurt type of gal anyway! ;)

Vote!

Another female hero for standing up against bullies - Jennifer Livingston

As many of you know, I was once a young girl who dealt with a lot of bullying due to my weight, my eye-glasses and my braces. A combination which pretty much leads to social suicide in a Pakistani English Medium School. I rose above it! But its women like Jennifer who are the real role models. Not women like me who changed themselves and their appearance to meet society's demands but women like Livingston and Balpree Kaur who stand up and educate and change the way society thinks.

Worst movie death scene ever...

Nope this is not a punjabi film This will haunt me all night now

Sad but true!

Asif Ali Zardari is upset that Hina Rabbani Khar is interested in his son and not in him. Hina is upset that Bilawal is more interested in playing with her children than with her. Bilawal is upset because Hina's children call him bhai-jaan rather than abba-jaan. Hina is upset with Bilawal because he often calls her ammi-jaan instead of just-jaan. Hina's husband is upset because he also likes Bilawal but Bilawal chose Hina over him. Soooo much is happening in Pakistan and we in India are fighting over coal-gate and FDI ~ so Boring. Thanks to Nikhil Ranjan for sharing! =)

New Friendships....

So there is an Uncle who lives next door to me, who I thought was spanish but later realized was Pakistani (much to my embarassment) because of the Bulbulay marathons he watches every evening. He has seen me parade plenty of men out of my appartment. Ouch! eh! what are you gonna do right! He watches Pakistani TV all day and night! I dont know what his deal is. But on Friday night, when I got home from work I heard an amazing and very soothing Ghazal emanating from his apartment. I decided to take the brave step and knocked. I introduced myself. We spoke in Urdu. Then I complimented the ghazal and asked him for the name. It turned out he didnt know which was odd. Our conversation though cordial ended briefly. Today when I got home from brunch, he knocked on my door and handed me a piece of paper with the words 'Zahid Ne Mera Hasil e Eman Naheen Dekha' Abida Parveen. I may have made a desi uncle friend! I have been listening to this ghazal all day on youtube as I write my next column. And as I play it on repeat, I would like to think he is on the other end of the wall, nodding his head to the ghazal emanating from my place. A smile on his lips. Because he too may realize that he has made a desi young female friend!

Words of Wisdom

People wont and shouldnt get upset when you say "no", its how you say it that may upset them. Learn to say no, say it politely and then enjoy how simple your life soon becomes! - Padash

Mona Eltahawy Released...

...and still being awesome!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Eltahawy tweeted on Tuesday that she had purchased a can of pink spray paint and followed up by writing, “Fuck Pam Geller and her band of haters.” “I believe in the right to offend & the right to protest that offense peacefully. And I will call you a racist & bigoted shit as I protest,” she added. Eltahawy tweeted Tuesday afternoon that it was “pink spray paint time,” then disappeared off Twitter for several hours, only for a post to be published later in the evening acknowledging that she had been charged with a misdemeanor. XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A dose of optimism for my country: Equal Rights for Hijras!!!

This makes me so happy! =)

"Life as a hijra, as Pakistan's ­transgender minority is known, can be tough, said 21-year-old Alisha, recounting tales of extortion, sexual violence and predatory policemen. But of late things have started to improve. The government has offered help, the hijras' plight has come into the public eye, and even the police are showing a little respect. "They call us the chief justice's darlings," she said. An unlikely revolution is stirring among Pakistan's transgender community. Over the past six months the supreme court has issued a series of ground-breaking judgments in favour of hijras, who have long lived under a cloud of disapprobation and ­discrimination. Spurred by the forceful chief justice, Iftikhar Chaudhry, who was restored after countrywide protests last year, normally moribund authorities have been ordered to ensure hijras enjoy the same rights as other Pakistanis, in matters of inheritance, employment and election registration. Police have been warned to cease harassment and intimidation. Pakistan's national database and registration authority, which issues ID cards, has been told to research a third option under the "sex" column."

Balpreet Kaur teaches us all how to stand up to bullies....

....and how to protest religious ignorance peacefully. Some guy snapped a picture of this innocent bystander and posted it on the net. Soon the picture went viral with hurtful and ignorant comments about her appearance.

But Balpreet Kaur used it as an opportunity to educate and teach the world many things. One of them is how important it is to be the bigger person. Hugs to you Ms. Kaur. “Hey, guys. This is Balpreet Kaur, the girl from the picture. I actually didn’t know about this until one of my friends told on facebook. If the OP wanted a picture, they could have just asked and I could have smiled :) However, I’m not embarrased or even humiliated by the attention [negative and positve] that this picture is getting because, it’s who I am. Yes, I’m a baptized Sikh woman with facial hair. Yes, I realize that my gender is often confused and I look different than most women. However, baptized Sikhs believe in the sacredness of this body - it is a gift that has been given to us by the Divine Being [which is genderless, actually] and, must keep it intact as a submission to the divine will. Just as a child doesn’t reject the gift of his/her parents, Sikhs do not reject the body that has been given to us. By crying ‘mine, mine’ and changing this body-tool, we are essentially living in ego and creating a seperateness between ourselves and the divinity within us. By transcending societal views of beauty, I believe that I can focus more on my actions. My attitude and thoughts and actions have more value in them than my body because I recognize that this body is just going to become ash in the end, so why fuss about it? When I die, no one is going to remember what I looked like, heck, my kids will forget my voice, and slowly, all physical memory will fade away. However, my impact and legacy will remain: and, by not focusing on the physical beauty, I have time to cultivate those inner virtues and hopefully, focus my life on creating change and progress for this world in any way I can. So, to me, my face isn’t important but the smile and the happiness that lie behind the face are. :-) So, if anyone sees me at OSU, please come up and say hello. I appreciate all of the comments here, both positive and less positive because I’ve gotten a better understanding of myself and others from this. Also, the yoga pants are quite comfortable and the Better Together tshirt is actually from Interfaith Youth Core, an organization that focuses on storytelling and engagement between different faiths. :) I hope this explains everything a bit more, and I apologize for causing such confusion and uttering anything that hurt anyone.”

I love you Mona Eltahawy

What a distasteful ad. Today on my commute, I chose to look away. I also think Pam Gellar should have been arrested as well.

Bhuttobani.....

Ok, I will be honest. I dont really believe it. Even if....I doubt Bilawal is thinking of marriage. Maybe they just got caught having a little fun. Either way, this just seems to be bad journalism and on par with bad tabloids like the National Enquirer.

I cant stand Bilawal and I dont really care much for Rabbani and her Birkens and her Hotel Managment degree which landed her in politics. Still....this seems a bit far fetched. The only thing believable is the fact that if Hina were to have an affair she would rather choose Bilawal over Zardari. The woman is known to have an aversion for bad taste and a woman who sports Birkens does not canoodle around with hideous men like Zardari. What is a "compromise situation" anyway? LOL "The weekly tabloid quoting sources said that President Asif Ali Zardari is vehemently opposing his son’s willingness of knotting marital relations with a woman with two children, saying it would not only jeopardize Bilawal’s political career but would also invite political doom for the ruling Pakistan People’s Party (PPP). It added Being aggrieved by his son’s ego and determination in making family with Hina Rabbani Khar, Asif Ali Zardari played key-role behind using country’s intelligence agencies in spreading the scandal about the evasion of electricity bills worth 70 million Rupees by Galaxy Textile Mills, a company owned by Khar’s husband Firoze Gulzar and father-in-law. The media reports also alleged that she and her husband are also among many other beneficiaries of NRO – an ordinance drafted to save corruption money and provide immunity to the corrupt. It claimed that, at this stage, sensing his father’s aggressive attitude towards Hina Rabbani Khar, Bilawal expressed anger and even threatened of resigning from the post of Presidency of Pakistan People’s Party. The tabloid said Bilawal told Asif Ali Zardari that he would settle in Switzerland with Hina Rabbani Khar and her daughters, though later he even told his father that, Hina might leave her daughters with her husband after the divorce. It said that Bhutto’s mother Benazir Bhutto left a hidden wealth worth a few billion dollars in Switzerland and Bilawal is the legal nominee of all those properties. The tabloid claimed that the secret affairs between Bilawal Bhutto and Hina Rabbani Khar came to the knowledge of Asif Ali Zardari, when the duo was caught in compromised situation inside the official residence of the President, where his son Bilawal Bhutto also resides. Later, President Zardari collected mobile call records between Bilawal and Hina and found evidences of relations between the two. The relations became much exposed to Asif Ali Zardari, when Hina Rabbani Khar sent Bilawal a greeting card on his birthday on September 21, 2011 with hand-written message stating – “The foundation of our relations is eternal and soon we shall be just ourselves.”

#MuslimLove

On September 23rd 2012, tens of hundreds of people showed up from 8 year olds to 60+ year olds, in different cities of Pakistan to clean up the mess created by the few individuals who somehow always end up defining Pakistan. To all of today's particpants, you are the reason we have a good future.

Pakistan is proud of you. The video brought tears to my eyes. I was tempted to book a ticket and head home to join them. I could never be as amazing as these people. Proud of you guys!!!!

Project Clean For Peace. #MuslimLove from Syed Muzamil Hasan Zaidi on Vimeo.

Lets make Nishat Cinema even more amazing!

For a daily dose of Shame on US! This is a picture of a landmark theater in the US. It is perserved. Tourists from all over the States, pose pictures of themselves next to it. People fondly reminisce of their memories here, films they saw at special moments in their lives. Films and photographers find ways to take best shot of this place to cease another landmark from history. Literature often mentions it. It is captured in time and a source of pride for Americans.

This is a picture of similar cinema in Pakistan. Nishat Cinema that should be no different for any of us Pakistanis.

Instead of respecting it and marvelling at its importance in our history....we watched as idiots destroyed such an important part of our history.

Sure, we were not the ones who did this devastation. But what can we do to reuild it. We may not have given this landmark its deserved due before...but lets stand in the way of such brutality. Lets use this opportunity to do our best to transform the theater back to - not only its original shape - but even better than what it once was. Pakistan is not full of savages and barbarians and raging idiots. Those are just a few handful of people. Pakistan is full of artists, generous philanthropists, creative youth, peace loving residents, trend-setters and most of all optimists! Lets show the world! Lets rebuild Nishat Cinema!

My Public Proposal to Awais Lovely

Dear Awais Lovely.....My Loin of Punjab! Although I have never physically met anyone in this world as Padash, I am willing to break that rule for one person. I, Padash, am asking you out on a date. I will rock your world. My only condition is that you reveal who your cameraman is! Love and kisses Padash!

I just completely LOLd loudly at work to this!

Who the hell is this guy? LOL. and why wont i stop laughing at this video.

My First Orgy!!!

One of the things, I always thought were urban myths were sexual orgies. In fact, for a girl who grew up in Pakistan, the only time I found out what the word meant was after watching a heartbroken Tom Cruise walk around the streets of New York in ‘Eyes Wide Shut.’ In one particular scene, after wandering aimlessly, he finds himself at an exclusive fete with masks and ball-gowns forcing the carnal revelry to appear a lot more like a Cotillion than a Cuntillion. I really don’t remember how the movie ended. I am tempted to say that after all that wandering he found the Church of Scientology, divorced Nicole Kidman and then married a younger girl who bore him a daughter…but I may be confusing reality with fiction here! However for a freak like myself who then moved to a city of freaks like New York, I was always warned that it would be a matter of minutes before I would be propositioned to attend my first sex party! Although most women would balk at such an invitation or even pretend to be offended, ya all know, I am not like most women. In fact, it was exactly my visceral intrigue for voyeurism that led me all the way to the door of the party, attired in a sexy white-lace negligee and knocking nervously on a door which would beckon me into a world I had never ever imagined I would discover. But how did I get to that door? Well…let’s find out!

Why Yes!

A year after living in a row-house in the Bronx, I finally moved into my very first Studio in a building just down the street. It obviously paled in comparison to the trendy high rises of Manhattan, but it was mine, it was affordable and I loved it. No roommates, no housemates, no shared bathrooms. The building itself was quite unglamorous and the residents were mostly geriatrics and crazy cat-ladies who got drunk on Metamucil for Happy Hour. You get the picture, I was probably one of the youngest occupants there and was often reminded of that fact, when they flashed their judgmental and disapproving stares at me perched on their folding chairs. Probably gossiping about the new brown-skinned tramp who paraded strange men in and out of her apartment at odd hours. The one point of comfort, was that another 30-something man lived on the same floor as me and lived an equally, if not more of a sexually flamboyant lifestyle. We were the rebels of the building. The teenagers of the household who broke all the rules and crept unabashedly around the judgmental eyes of our elders.

His name was BD Rex and our paths would only cross in the hallway while taking out the trash or when I would be rushing to or returning from work. On some rare occasions, we would engage in small, neighborly talk outside the building during spontaneous smoke-breaks. I live by a strong rule of never acquainting myself with neighbors because I don’t want them snooping around in my personal life. However, Rex gave me a stronger taste of my own medicine. Always cordial but never too chummy. I must admit, after a while I was beginning to take this personally. Come on, I was Padash! A party animal! A born fruit-fly. Yet, the only fun guy in my building was dismissing me as just another boring and conservative South Asian woman living on his floor. This had to be changed, ASAP!

BD Rex was quite handsome and often dressed like an artist with a rock-star wardrobe. His face – and probably even his lifestyle – had an uncanny resemblance to the late Robert Mapplethorpe. I assumed he had to be a homosexual because in New York City, attractive men are almost always attracted to other men. If they have abdominal muscles, they are either homos from Chelsea or dodos from the Jersey Shore…and both have never woken up my bed. I was only partly right because BD Rex later disclosed that he was a proud bisexual. I acted like a kid meeting Santa Claus for the first time, because I had ever met an actual bisexual before. Most bi men and women I knew were people who just mostly slept with men. They only referred to themselves as bi because they had experimented with a female once, many years ago in their past. Did that make me bi since my best friend Jenny and I would often have threesomes in college? Nah…I liked men and only men! I was only buy-sexual…buy me something and I’ll get sexual! Juuuuuust kidding!

One of the things about Rex that intrigued me the most – besides the fact that he never took an active interest in befriending me, which men of any sexuality have known to do – was the fact that he seemed to be a bigger party animal than I was. Sure, I would go clubbing on the weekends or happy hours during the week but Rex enjoyed the role of being ‘the life of the party’ 24/7. I may have attended my share of parties, but Rex was the guy who actually threw the parties. And in ‘fun’ world, party-goers and party-throwers are very different; the latter enjoy a much higher stature in the merriment hierarchy. I mean, the man hosted parties in his apartment on a weekly basis. Every Thursday night, the foot traffic outside my door would be louder than a stampede at Radio Shack on Black Friday. When I would peep through the door, I would see excited men and women sashaying down the hall. Dressed in sexy clothes, laughing, giggling and with bottles of expensive liquor dangling from their hands. Some nights would be themed parties and people would be decked out in costume.

I hadn’t dealt with rejection of any kind for a while, especially men but I remember during those days, I was at an all-time low. Besides the fact that the only young and fun guy in my new building was treating me like chopped liver, I had a new boss at work who was a fire-breathing power-executive for whom humans were no different than slave-dogs. BFH (Boss from Hell), as everyone referred to him as, cracked the whip ruthlessly and walked around like a tyrant with an attitude. A misogynistic prick, he wasn’t just the boss from hell, he was the guy whose calls even Satan would be too scared to answer. A Miranda Priestly in a Brooks Brother suit, BFH was in his early forties, semi-attractive in a balding Clark Kent meets Stanley Tucci way and most men that fit his profile would dance at my finger-tips. He was married and I guess he was very loyal, but hell I wasn’t asking him for a damn affair, just a little pity at his hard-working staff. No matter how sexy my cleavage, it wouldn’t prevent him from yelling at us or making us stay late and work long excruciating hours. Sigh, I was 23 years old, looked my best and here I was really beginning to doubt myself.

A few months after I had moved into my studio, I was busy watching TV with a cup of tea before bed when someone knocked on my door. It was the old, whiny woman from down the hall standing in front of me in a horrendous nightgown clutching on to a pad and a pen. She wasn’t the nicest person in our building so I was surprised that she had paid me a visit.
‘Can I help you?’ I remained genteel but not too amicable.
‘I need your help with this petition’ She handed me the pad ‘We need everyone’s signature on our floor for it to go into effect.’
‘And what is it about?”
‘Well…it’s a complaint against that boy Rex on the other end. He is not welcome here.
‘Why not?’ She was already pissing me off.
‘Well for one…he is a…..is a…..’ and then she mumbled something so inaudible it sounded like ‘looker.’ Was this old woman turned on by Rex? Was she trying to kick someone out of her building for being a hottie?
‘A what?’
‘A hooker. A male prostitute. . It has been confirmed on numerous occasions that strange men and women are constantly going in and out of his apartment…’
‘Well…I entertain people too…and trust me I’m not a hooker!’
‘Well its different you are not a….a….whore.’ she winced every time she uttered the words.
‘But I have been called one many times.’
‘Look lady…the man gets paid to have sex. He doesn’t have a job and we have done our research. We don’t want such people in this building because….”
‘I’m sorry. I cant sign this. I have no problem with him enjoying a healthy sex life. Besides I don’t wanna get involved and he doesn’t bother me. Good night!’ I slammed the door in her face. It felt good! I wondered if she once harbored concerns about me as a possible female terrorist from Pakistan moving into her building too.

I arrived home one evening from a terrible day at work where BFH had spent his entire day yelling violently about a project. As I tried to finish my cigarette on the front steps, Rex stepped out of the building for a smoke-break at the same time and flashed me a wide smile.
‘Hey…thanks’ He greeted me.
‘For what?’ I was confused.
‘For not signing that petition. Not that it was going to make much of a difference anyway but I guess it humored these old farts for a minute.’
‘How did you know I didn’t sign it?’
He smiled as he lit up his cigarette ‘Oh darling, I am very well connected. Escorts have clients all over the place. These idiots cant do anything to me. Like I said…that petition went straight into the trash bin!”
‘Escort? So it really is true….”
‘It usually is’ he laughed. ‘Guilty as charged!’
I guess I looked visibly impressed because he smirked and said ‘You’re pretty cool.”
‘Correction, I’m pretty AND I’m cool!’
‘So you honestly don’t have a problem with it? I mean my job…because my clients are very safe and they don’t bother…’
‘Hey…I could care less how you make your living! As long as it doesn’t affect me….make your money boo. I’m actually envious, must be nice getting paid to get laid. Beats this crazy job I’m tempted to quit every day.’
‘The money’s not that great anymore. I’m not as young as I used to so business just kinda sucks these days…”
‘Blame everything on the economy.’ I joked.
‘Anyway…thanks…If there is anything you ever need….’
‘Well you could invite a sister to a party every now and then. You make me feel like these old farts.’
He laughed as his eyes widened ‘You really wanna come to one of my parties?’
‘Why not?’
‘Well….for starters they are not your average dinner or cocktail parties…they’re a part of my work….’
I nodded slowly because though I wasn’t sure, I was slowly beginning to catch on.
‘They are sex parties. I mean they are more just like a pansexual get-together where everything goes. A space open to anyone for anything. You can walk around naked or in a burqa, you could just hang out and converse with people or you could have wild, crazy, mind-blowing sex next to someone playing cards. Its just a very welcoming atmosphere, a haven for the broad-minded.”
Well, I definitely considered myself broad-minded but I had never even heard of such a party let alone been to one.
‘So…I mean if you’re interested…I can definitely send you an Evite! I always welcome beautiful women at my parties.’
‘But how are your parties work related?’ I was still slightly confused.
‘I charge 40 dollars to get in. Women pay 40….and men pay 80. Unless they bring a women and in that case then they only pay 60. We want the male to female ratio at these parties to be somewhat equal. You, my friend, wouldn’t have to pay anything of course. Just come check it out. My party next week is called “Sex in White” so make sure to follow the dress code. Wear something white and sexy!’
‘So the parties are just another way of making money for you?’ I was still more intrigued by the business aspect of it.
‘Well yes…like I said…I no longer get many clients because I am not as young anymore. I may still be very well-endowed which helps me get by but in order to survive at this age I have to host such parties to drum up more business. Its like advertising when I’m naked. Allowing people to sample the package in a “look but don’t touch” sort of way. If it peaks their interest they can schedule a more intimate session with me which I charge per hour.”
‘You must make a lot then?’ I asked.
‘Nah not anymore. I used to be youthful enough to fulfill my client’s high school jock fantasy or their frat-boy fantasy, but money in escorting for a 35 year old man isn’t that high…trust me. If it was, I would be living in a loft in Manhattan not in a janky apartment building full of prudes in the Bronx.”
He had a point!

I hadn’t really committed to anything when I left him, but I must admit my curiosity had reached an all new high. I immediately called Dario and told him what had happened. Dario was no stranger to the world of group-sex. In fact, he would quite often attend orgies all over New York and would then detail his escapades to me over lunch as I would stare wide-eyed, chin in my hands, lingering on to every word. Like a kid listening to her Nani narrating fairy-tales from Kohkaaf or watching “A’dick Wala Djinn.” I even tried to get him to attend the party with me but since he had already begun his path to recovery he had vowed to stay far away from alcohol, drugs and sex. A party which combined all these vices in one go, wouldn’t really fly well with his recovery group or his sponsor.



Before I knew it, the Thursday of BD Rex’s ‘Sex in White Party’ arrived and I still had not RSVP’d. Now, apparently Dario had informed me that you always RSVP to an orgy because if you don’t it really throws up the head count for the host. He needs to know the ratio of men to women to trannies at such parties so he can plan accordingly. As a neighbor, I was taking my liberties and probably testing BD Rex’s patience. I got home after another terrible day at work and was completely exhausted. The new boss (BFH) had pissed me off so much that I wanted to stay on my couch and drown in my sorrows all night. As for BD Rex’s party, I was still undecided. I fixed myself a cup of tea and settled on the Papasan staring at the Evite on my laptop. I clicked “Yes” and then I rolled over to take a nap.

I was woken up an hour later by the footsteps outside my door making their way down the hall to BD Rex’s apartment. I could hear music blaring from the apartment and the joyous laughter of libidinous revelry. Finally, after a few shots of liquid courage, I decided to brave the first step and cross an unchartered territory. Honestly, one of my main motivators was to cut the tags off on this sexy Victoria’s Secret lace negligee that I had bought. A white themed sex party seemed to be the perfect venue to adorn it.

In my sexy outfit and hints of light makeup sans the bright red lipstick, I nervously knocked on BD Rex’s apartment. He answered through the festivities and his face lit up when he saw me.
‘You look like a delicious white virgin ready to be deflowered!’ He remarked ‘I can’t believe you came!’
‘I can’t believe I did either!’
‘Well…lets just hope we’re still saying the same to each other in a few hours!’ He winked.
I rolled my eyes as I entered with my heart stuck in my throat and slowly made my way into the living room.

I had no idea what to expect but if I had ever imagined an orgy, this wouldn’t have been the first thing to come to mind! I guess at that point I realized that my concept of an orgy was far from reality. I always imagined such parties to be a gathering of beautiful people with perfectly symmetrical silicone breasts, washboard abs and failed acting careers that had landed them in the orgy scene of an airbrushed porno. But that’s just the problem. This wasn’t porn, this was real-life. And the two often never connect. Still, it was an interesting assortment of guests stretched out, socializing with each other as unremarkably as they would at any social gathering. The only difference was that some of them were already naked, a lot of them were dressed in overtly sexual and revealing clothes and the tension was more pronounced and ambitious at this party as opposed to all the other “non-sexual” house parties I had attended.

If you have never been to an orgy and want to envision what one must feel like, this is what I want you to do. Imagine a party where you knew no one. Now multiply your nervousness of entering that party by ten. Also imagine the people at that party! Every shape, every size. A living room or a drawing room with your Auntie next door drinking tea, your friends dad who helped set up your first desktop, the couple with children you sometimes meet for brunch, some dumb blondes, some angry heavy-set women glaring at the blondes and the few, token homosexual males who have taken over the music system at the party. It was pretty much the same people, doing exactly the same thing. But naked or dressed in skimpy outfits. And definitely not as subtle with the way they voraciously eyed you from head to toe as if you were fresh meat that had just been served on a plate at this party. Your auntie next door is still seated on the sofa drinking tea but in chiffon lingerie. Your friend’s father is in tight black bikini briefs very unflattering for his age but still discussing the proper way to install McAfee. The couple with kids are smiling at you just as warmly but tied to each other in fur handcuffs. The heavy set women still glaring angrily at you and the skinny blondes. The attractive and physically fit homosexual men are shuffling the Ipod in between locking lips and groping each other. For them the party started before the host even opened the door as they eagerly play tonsil hockey with each other. Oh and throw in a random transvestite in fishnets and a leather bustier, walking around with a leather whip which she whacks into her palm like a school head-mistress. And although this may not be your average school but she sure boasts about being the best HEAD-mistress in the room!

I smiled nervously at the guests, who all welcomed me cordially to their little bordello where sex was free and clothes were shed like discarded tissue papers. It was also a party where everyone seemed to know each other and that made me even more nervous. I couldn’t tell if the women or the men were flirting with me more . I quietly excused myself and made a dash for the kitchen to grab a bottle of beer from the fridge. As soon as I entered, I stumbled over a sea of white trash-bags layering the floor all tied up and with an alphabet scribbled on each bag with a black sharpie. I was now completely confused. Thursday was usually trash day but how much trash did Rex conjure up! And why was it spread across his kitchen floor?

BD Rex entered the kitchen with the tranny and immediately smirked at the questions in my expression.
‘Oh she is so green!’ He laughed as the tranny smirked back (who I would later learn was a deaf lip-reader!)
BD Rex finished his sentence ‘This is clothes-check sweetheart! Whenever people want to get naked or wear something more sexy, they put their clothes in a trash-bag, initial it and leave it here!’

For a person like myself who wears some pretty expensive clothes to parties, this certain ritual would take a little getting used to. I neither feel that my Prada belongs in trash bags nor would I trust strangers to be able to pilfer it so easily. I immediately made a mental note.
1. Unlike non-sexual parties, never dress in your finest for an orgy! You are going to get naked anyway!
2. It definitely helps if the orgy is taking place on your apartment floor in your neighbors one-bedroom. You can hop, skip and sashay over in your lace negligee and then stumble home all without the help of trash bags!

As I pop open a bottle of Heinken (ps: I hate beer but BD Rex didn’t exactly serve Martinis at his sex parties) I decided to stick around the kitchen and talk to BD Rex some more. He was already hanging on the windowsill with the tranny sharing a fresh joint that leather, deaf, lip-reading tranny had dug up from her fake yet extremely lifelike boobs. I guessed that lady-girl was also BD Rex’s dealer.

‘They love you!’ BD Rex informed me!
I roll my eyes!
‘You don’t believe me?’
‘Yeah but…I mean pickings are slim here. It’s not hard to be the most attractive women when all it takes is for your boobs to not sag!”
BD Rex laughed and then directed my attention to the tranny’s perky breasts which competed with mine. In fact he began to squeeze them violently and then motor-boated them and then somewhere along the way, they began to make out on the windowsill. I grabbed the joint and inhaled a few quick puffs. Never waste a lit joint, never mess up a rotation and when you are more nervous than Justin Bieber would be in a Pushto cinema, you definitely need the help of marijuana to calm your nerves.

In between his lovemaking with a transvestite which had now gotten awkwardly graphic, BD Rex also took frequent breaks to school me on orgy etiquette.
‘Don’t feel pressured to do anything!’ Just think of this as a party where people may happen to have sex in front of you. Chill out, relax, talk to people. That’s all this is about!’

After my fourth beer and second joint, I was taking his advice quiet well. The place had filled up more and soon there even seemed to be some attractive men and women mingling with the ordinary looking folks. By 10pm, I found myself seated on a mattress on the floor (which will later be where someone will probably get gang-banged) but for now it was a comfy place where I sat surrounded by three naked and very drunk blondes swaying to some folk song by a 50 year old male guitarist with six-pack abs (I kid you not). His stomach was so perfectly chiseled, it almost doesn’t seem to be attached to the silver-daddy who sported a balding pony-tail and in all likelihood went to middle-school with Santa Claus. I was still amazed that I ended up staying at the party that long and also that I was actually having a good time. I had almost forgotten that there was supposed to be actual sex at this party and after the first hour of engaging in a heated debate on Jane Austen’s possible lesbian tendencies with a dominatrix that looked like Ursula the Sea-witch, I almost didn’t notice the nakedness around me. I had even become desensitized to the random sexual acts that intermittently took place around me in the most casual, matter-of-fact ways. In fact, a few minutes before I joined the hippy guitar corner, I had reached over a female going fervently down on another female and politely whispered an ‘excuse me’ as if I was reaching over someone reading a book! Even when the pretty brunette looked up, smiled and moved to the side with an ‘Oh, I’m sorry, am I in your way?’ I replied with ‘No you’re fine, carry on!’
Really? Really? Was this really happening?

However, there was another male at the party that had caught my attention. A tall, blonde man in his late thirties with a very handsome face. A clean-cut version of Stephen Dorf in a white shirt and seer-sucker pants. He could have been just another handsome broker sitting in a Wall Street bar the way he kept eyeing and smiling at me. And though we weren’t in a Wall Street pub, I flirted right back. At one point I even spotted him inquiring about me as he stood with BD Rex in a corner. He finally chased me down when I entered the kitchen to pull another beer out of the fridge.
‘Well hello there.’ He addressed me in a husky voice and a dreamy smile.
He was proof that you could meet an adorably handsome man at an orgy. I smiled back.
‘Haven’t seen you here before? First time?’ He continued to ask.
‘Yeah…I’m a friend of BD Rex’s and he just told me to come check it out…’
‘Ah a virgin!’ His eyes lit up.
‘Well I wouldn’t go that far!’
‘But…you are an orgy virgin aren’t you?’
‘And you’re a veteran I presume?’
‘You could say that!’ He smirked ‘But Rex’s parties are my favorite! They are the most laidback…and you never know when you may run into a beautiful unsuspecting South Asian girl here.’
I rolled my eyes. He was trying hard. Very hard. But he was a nice guy, he was attractive and I had time to spare.

We spent the next half-hour walking around. By then some of the attendants at the party had gotten more intimate. Others were still lounging around discussing literature or sharing joints. We entered a room where I was immediately taken by surprise but kept my composure. On the bed, BD Rex was completely naked going down on a woman while the deaf transsexual was err….lets just say…making love to him from behind. But, it wasn’t that scene which forced my eyes to pop out of my skull. It was the size of his penis. That man was the most, well-endowed person I had ever met. And trust me, I have seen a LOT of penises in my lifetime!

Mr. Wall Street Dorf leaned over and whispered ‘That’s usually the reaction most females have when they are first introduced to Rex in all his erect glory. He doesn’t even like women all that much. Lucky bastard!’
‘I…I..uh…..’
He smirked ‘Hey they don’t call him Big Dick Rex for nothing! Come on lets go say hi to Evita!’
So that’s what the BD in his name stood for, I nodded as I followed Mr. Wall Street Dorf to say hi to someone called Evita now.

Back in the living room, we arrived at a table which was like a seafood spread of sex toys. The woman a middle-aged Caucasian woman in heavy make-up and short hair stood proudly admiring a buffet of whips and weird-shaped gadgets. Decked out in leather from head-to-toe, she reminded me of a goth high school girl from Brooklyn. But instead of glares she was all smiles and niceties when we were introduced. She didn’t exactly look like an Evita either, more like an EVILa but then again she wasn’t standing in her balcony singing ‘Don’t Cry for me Argentina’ either.

‘I have been admiring her skin from afar. I hope she joins us tonight!’ she purred as she ran a leather whip-looking-thing on my arm and I winced. I did not want her to whack me with it because, THAT would lead to a fight! White girls have no idea what happens when you piss off a Pakistani chick! She would be flogged to oblivion.
Wall-Street-Dorf boy reached out and grabbed it from her and began to admire it like a kid in a candy store.
‘This seems new!’ His eyes lit up.
‘Yeah I just ordered it online. Came just in time for the party. Feel it….so soft…smooth…perfect!’
‘Cant wait for you to try it on me!’ He remarked excitedly.
‘Oh trust me…I’m just setting up. It would be even hotter than the last time. I brought some electrodes for your friend too.’ Before I could even blink at the word ‘electrodes’, she grabbed and began to demonstrate a weird-electric gadget on the Dorf’s skin as he began to wince in pure, blissful joy.

This was now getting a little too creepy for me! But I remained a good sport! After all, this would be an experience I would cherish forever!
‘Oh my buddy would LOVE this!’ Wall Street guy hissed.
‘He actually asked for it.’ She cackled. ‘Where the fuck is he anyway? I am ready to get started on you two.’
‘Oh he texted me not too long ago. He got stuck at work but should be here soon.’ He replied as we stepped away to sample the other party favors.
‘Will she be coming too? I hope so!’ Evita called out with priapic lust in her eyes.
‘I sure hope so too.’ The gentleman replied as he smiled at me.
Fat chance in hell! I thought to myself.

An hour later, the party had gotten busier and busier. I saw everything imaginable and it was almost like I was immune to public sex happening around me as Wall Street boy and I flirted against the wall.
‘You know, I’m really glad you came tonight.’ He leaned over breathing heavily into my skin. He was a VERY handsome man!
‘I’m kinda glad I did too.’ I replied.
He then cupped my chin and leaned closer ‘Can I kiss you?’
I nodded and he immediately pressed his lips into mine. Devouring me hungrily as his tongue caressed my mouth. Damn he really was an amazing kisser! Did he have to be a fucking S&M slave! Just my luck!

I was a little flustered even after the kiss ended and took a few minutes to open my eyes. When I did, he was smiling down at me holding on to something which decimated the last inkling of romance that could possibly spark between us. Dangling from his hands was a weird phallic sculpture of rubber with leather straps. It took me a few minutes to realize that it was a strap-on.
‘I would love for you to put this on! It would mean a lot to me!’
Was he serious? Was he asking me to sodomize him and using words one uses when asking for a nonchalant favor such as a ride to the airport. It would mean a LOT to him? Who says that when asking to be fucked with a dildo?

There were numerous other questions running through my mind. Had he been carrying this around the whole time? Did he attend every party with this hiding in his back like an upholstered gun? Was this even sanitary?
‘I really should get going!’ I replied.
He was more than disappointed ‘Are you serious?’
I nodded. ‘I have an early morning meeting and as I mentioned to you before…I just came to…’
‘I know…I know…’ he rolled his eyes and his reply was fairly curt.
I guess this is the difference between a Wall Street bar and an orgy. At the former venue men are a bit more subtle about hiding their blue-balls. Besides I had no business acting a like a cock-tease at a sex party either. It really was time for me to go.
‘Are you sure….you have no idea how bad….’ He begged one last time!
‘I’m sorry this is all a little much for me. Maybe next time! I mean you have Evita and…’
‘Don’t talk to me like I’m a kid…just go….’
Ok…that was a little rude. And that was probably my cue to exit. The whole expectations of gentleman manners at an orgy was something I wasn’t ready for. But I understood his frustration. He came here as a determined denizen. I came here as an unsure tourist. I leaned over and gave him a long, lingering kiss again as my apology.
‘Thanks for a wonderful evening.’ I replied and could feel him melt. Works every time.
With his eyes still closed he whispered ‘Please Jameela….walk away….you have no idea how turned on I am right now.’
Yes, I never told him my real name. You think, I’m that stupid. I opted for Jameela as my name that night! Hey it was the first name I could think of. It was also the name of my childhood jamadarnee. Sorry Jameelas!

And walk away, I did. Quietly exiting the door, making sure to lock it behind me as per BD Rex’s instructions. I should have said “goodbye” to Rex but he was well…a little…tied up if you will. And I mean that literally. A few steps later I was back in my apartment giggling like a little girl. I couldn’t believe what I had just done. I checked my cell phone and there was a voicemail from my mother. Ok, a little bit of guilt there but now was definitely not the time to call her back. There was also a text message from Dario asking me if I made it to the party. I texted back ‘Lunch tomorrow. Lots to tell!’ I was still a little buzzed from all the beer but decided to drink one last glass of red wine before bed as I changed into my night clothes. Yeah I wasn’t going to wear my negligee to sleep. What I wore were my standard pjs. A red Elmo tank-top and men’s boxers. If you know me by now, you know I love wearing men’s boxers to bed with wife-beaters. My ex’s always joked that I dress like a man to bed but its comfortable.

Right before bed, I knew it was time to take out the trash so I grabbed the bags and made my way down the hall when I bumped into and came face to face with someone I had never expected. It was my boss from hell! Mr. BFH in the flesh, dressed completely in white. His wedding ring, tucked into his front pocket peeping dejectedly through the cotton.

We were both more than taken aback. I thanked my lucky stars for having left the party when I did and for changing out of the white negligee.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked more flustered than ever. I almost relished at his tyrannical self all flustered and vulnerable.
‘I live here. What are you doing here?’ I fired back.
‘I…umm….just here…my friend lives here…he lives in this building I am just here too…his name is.’ And after running through a few names in his mind he uttered the name of the Wall-Street-Stephen-Dorf doppleganger who was stupid enough to tell me his actual name!
Still, I decided to go easy on him ‘Oh cool. I probably wouldn’t even know him. I don’t know any of my neighbors because I’m hardly here. I’m always working such long hours on your projects.’
‘Yeah…yeah…but you’re doing a great job by the way.’
Wait was that a compliment from BFH himself? Did my ears deceive me? Were pigs going to start flying now?
‘Well I should get going…you know how I feel about mornings!’ I shrugged with my trash-bags serving as the perfect alibi!
‘Yeah…you look like you’re ready for bed! And hey Padash…no need to come early tomorrow. Take your time.’
‘Thanks!’ I grinned and after disposing of my trash in the chute, I crept back into my apartment and crawled into my bed. I could barely stifle my giggles. My tyrant boss’s cheating ass had just been caught in flagrante delicto. But it wasn’t just any type of cheating, it was an all-out twisted kink-fest that he liked to dip his fingers into behind his wife’s back!

I relished the thought of sleeping in the next day not only because I would probably be nursing a little hangover from all the alcohol but even if I tried to sleep, I would be haunted by nightmares of BFH being humiliated by a dominatrix as he got sodomized by Evita and flogged by a tranny while he and Wall-Street boy high-fived each other amidst their doggy-style positions. New York is a fucked up city! I LOVE it!

Life moved on! Boss from hell (BFH) became the nicest person in the world till he was promoted and moved to California a few years later. His marriage is still in-tact as far I can tell but hey if all it took to please the guy was to humiliate him, I’m sure his entire staff at the office would be more than willing to oblige. Everyone hated him! BD Rex and I stayed friends. He was a sweet neighbor and we got along well during smoke-breaks or when we ran into each other taking trash out in the halls. I thanked him for the party, told him how much fun it was and that I would hold off on attending the next one till I was sure I wasn’t going to be yet another dick-tease. He appreciated my honesty. I got busy with life and he did too but for some reason he aged much faster than I had anticipated. I mean he was a middle-aged escort trying hard to hold on to his youthful looks and body because his bread and butter depended on it. However sometimes, the best of us just have to give up and let go. He had gained a lot of weight and also began to sport a thick beard. He actually began to resemble a big grizzly, blue-collared bear and I sincerely worried about his career. How would he survive as an escort? At this rate he wouldn’t even be able to afford rent on his Bronx apartment.

I got the answer soon after when the old gossip ladies began whispering about the fact that the condemned BD Rex was finally moving out. The next day, when I got home from work, he had slipped a goodbye card underneath my door. He wanted us to stay in touch and shared his new address with me. A one-bedroom in Upper East Side, Manhattan! At the end, he signed his name and I realized that ‘Big Dick Rex’ had now become ‘Big Daddy Rex.’ Holy smokes! I guess he finally had his happy ending after all. And I also guess there is a HUGE market for fat hairy men in the escort business. BD Rex not only stumbled upon that niche but hit gold with it. Who would have known!

Like I said, New York is a fucked up city! And I still LOVE it!

As for orgies, I don’t really know if I would ever return to one again. It was a fun experience but not really my thing. But for those of you fellow freaks, who plan on attending an orgy in your life. Remember, rule number one. ALWAYS and I mean always, RSVP to an orgy! Its common courtesy and New York with all its fucked-up-ness does NOT forgive those who don’t! Happy hunting!

Lets show Newsweek how it is done!

Muslim Rage!

More great pics can be found here.

Shukriya Max Read. =)

Desi sex advice!

HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!

I love that her name is Kamini Dubey. Hell I love her period. If you put it on mute it seems like she is probably talking about a recipe for jalebis. LOL but some of her sex tips requires the "flaxibility" of a jalebi LOL.

Not safe for work.

Idiots. Savages. Sinners.

Thats what these so called "muslims" are. Its always the poor KFC and Dunkin Donuts that get hit. Dont these idiots know that the patrons and workers at these places are innocent human beings!

Terry Jones is an idiot....lets not become one too

My plea to fellow muslims

Yes Terry Jones is an idiot! Lets mke fun of him! Lets make funny cartoons to show that we are above him and he is an idiot. Ldets make fun of his handle-bar moustaches. Lets ignore him.

Please lets not stoop to his level and answer with violence!

Please...just this once!!!

Bill Batori Nasa Chori.....

...Adhee Motee....Adhee Koree.....!!!

Yes I was an Ainak Wala Djin Fan. Sad but tru!



But it seems like there may be an Ainak Wala Djin sequel. I'm tempted to spend my labor day weekend, yotubing the original and watching it while stoned.

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"We will start the series from where the first part ended. The drama series is being started again to provide fun in a healthy atmosphere of enjoyment to the people belonged to all age groups including children, women and men,” said Shahzad Qaisar a central character of the series talking to APP here on Wednesday.

He said that the viewers would be able to enjoy scenic beauty other attractive sites of Azad Kashmir and other parts of the country in the series.

The play promises fun and amusement for its viewers as its writer Tariq Sahili says he has made “a conscious effort to provide opportunity of humour and entertainment.”

Sahili said that the series was being launched following great demand from its fans, who had become fed up with the culture of indecent dialogues and other negative tactics being used in dramas and television shows being aired in the name of entertainment.

He said that almost all team of the series will be the same except those actors which had to be changed because of their age. The writer added that Idrees Adil will be director of the series and Shafqat Cheema will play role of villain. The first episode of the series will be titled “Nastoor jin ki wapsi”.

The series is scheduled for airing on the occasion of Eidul Azha, he said.
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Madam Noor Jehan had a song about Coca Cola??? Loves it!

Cute! The original desi diva!
Before Lady Gaga was every fabulous person's ring tone...
Before Madonna was blasted at every fabulous dance club...
Before Barbra Streisand serenaded fabulous audiences with her ballads....
There was Madam Noor Jehan....teaching South Asia how to be fabulous!



Thanks to Mohammad Ahmed for sharing the above clip!

On another note, acclaimed Pakistani director Mehreen Jabbar and co-director Fawzia Afzal Khan are working on a documentary on the history of female singers in Pakistan.




xxxxxx

Pakistani scholar Dr. Fawzia Afzal-Khan won the NEH grant to film the history of Pakistani female singers from 1947 to the present. The documentary film with the working title of "The Nightingales" will highlight the historical and emerging contributions by Pakistani female musicians to Pakistani society and culture, while allowing viewers to understand the history of the country through the lives
and music of these pioneering female artists. It is being directed by Mehreen Jabbar and co-directed by Fawzia Afzal-Khan.

xxxxxx

More info can be found on their facebook page.

My blog is quickly becoming a Veena Malik Fan Tumblr

Desi Youth in the US, Yaar!

As South Asians living in the US, we have all heard the terms ABCDs and FOBs being tossed around loosely. Both carry a fairly negative connotation; however, things today are not the way they used to be. We know the world is constantly changing. We get it! But is it time to revisit the three most common, South Asian stereotypes of 2012?

• ABCDs – American Born Confused Desi

• FOBs – Fresh off the Boat

• &

• Introducing…..FOYs – Fresh off the Yacht

Why yes!

The ABCD – American Born Confused Desi
We all know them. Of course they swear up and down that they are not confused. And ok, sure we believe them! But they can’t deny that they are American born and they are desis. They grow up speaking terrible Urdu/Hindi but their American accents are a source of envy for both the FOBs and the FOYs. They often battle with whether to take an active interest in Stardust magazine/Bollywood (a brief, short-lived phase) or Teen Vogue/Hollywood (peer norms). Too foreign for their American peers and too Western for their extended desi families, they are bound to grow up slightly confused. At Diwalis and Eids, they bounce between lectures by elders of either “not assimilating to this western culture” or “be proud to be Amreekan beta, it is your right.” Their trips back to their parent’s homeland are few and rare. Most often those trips are in remote villages or inner city areas where cousins can barely speak English and pedestrian fans, runny stomachs and mosquitos welcome them with open arms.



In the States, they grow up as the only desis in their small-towns and thus try extremely hard to fit in. Hard working students, they do well in school and work part-time at local retail stores just like their American peers. So starved are they to be around other people of their ethnicity that once they get to college they are immediately drawn to other ABCDs. They sign up for the PSAs, the ISAs, the Bhangra groups, the desi fraternities or sororities and finally get a chance to date within their race. Weekends are now spent at desi parties with names like Nasha, Jawani , Rangeela and Bhangra Blowout. Their group of ABCD friends remain close for a while till politics and drama take over. I mean let’s be honest, small groups of desi people…will eventually always lead to drama! ABCD’s are known to look down upon and make fun of FOBs because FOBs represent everything they disliked about going back to South Asia. They make sure to remind FOBs of that fact too. They may – like it or not – act like they are better than the FOBs but feel the opposite way when it comes to another new breed of fresh transplants to the US: the FOYs. Why? Because FOY’s come from a whole different South Asia than the FOBs. They give ABCDs a stronger taste of their own medicine by serving as the first reminder to ABCDs that they too could be made fun of by someone who grew up in South Asia. If FOBS are everything about India and Pakistan they disliked, FOYs are everything about India and Pakistan they never knew existed and missed out on. ABCD boys and girls will secretly resent the fact that FOY’s are bigger snobs than them. FOY girls rarely ever give an ABCD boy the time of day while FOY boys are neither impressed nor culture-shocked by girls in jeans and skirts. Things that are usually novel for a FOB.

Their academic pursuits consist of your basic undergrad and then probably and most likely Medicine. Many will try to by-bass the MCATs by enrolling in medical schools in the Caribbean. They will then go on to make good money and bear children who will hopefully, someday eliminate the “C” from the “ABCD.”


You can usually spot them on the street wearing skimpy outfits or urban clothes. Girls will quite often be found wearing tight, black BeBe shirts and boys will try hard to look like Latin chulos or Jersey Shore douchebags. They do however love an excuse to wear desi attire be it at a college function or a community event where other single ABCDs will be present.


The FOB – Fresh off the Boat!



These are your hard-working International students. Not from the big cities of India and Pakistan but the smaller cities and remote villages. They arrive on campus with impressive scholarships based on their perfect GRE and SAT scores. Each one a bigger genius and math wizard than the other. Although they can barely construct a grammatically correct sentence in English, they could revise and improve all the textbooks in their graduate school curriculum. In fact, if given the chance, they could (in their thick accents and broken English) even teach their professor a thing or two about Fermat’s Last Theorem. FOBs can solve algebra equations in their sleep and a 4.0 GPA is as commonplace in their circle as the smell of curry embedded in the furniture of their shared housing arrangements. Because they feel uncomfortable and homesick in the dorms they immediately flock to other FOBs to arrange shared, off-campus housing where they can watch Bollywood films and cook curries together on a Saturday night. It’s not like they don’t want to go to desi parties. In fact it is just this fascination for such parties that lands every FOB at a desi club at least once in their life. But after being intimidated by ABCDs, they quickly decide that this scene may not be for them. FOB boys will still pigheadedly try to talk to an ABCD girl.


Although most FOBs are on an academic scholarship, time which is not spent studying is then spent at their work-study jobs or trying to help each other by finding more cash jobs at desi restaurants or taxi companies. They rarely get financial support from their families and thus their lives often revolve around their scholarships, stipends and paid-in-cash-jobs. Another reason why their social life is never as burgeoning as the ABCDs and the FOYs.

FOBs are usually there to pursue either an Engineering or an IT degree. They find their coursework extremely easy and are almost amused when their American colleagues complain about their biostatistics course being the most difficult class of their life. Most often, these students will go on to earn a few Masters and then a PhD or two in Bio-technical-chemical-somethingsomething. FOB boys will eventually find romance when their arranged marriage with a gorgeous girl back home comes through. That is when they will bring their bride to the States. A country where they had always felt like an outsider but will now enjoy a new and esteemed role of being a guide for someone who is even fresher off the boat.


They are often seen attired in checkered, half sleeve dress shirts (tucked in for boys, tucked out for girls), tight jeans and the whitest of white sneakers, which they refer to as joggers. They may search for the best sales when it comes to clothes but will not think twice before spending money on a pair of sneakers. Also the first item that a FOB purchases the minute he steps off PIA, Indian Air or Bhoja Air. On some days, they may even don other faux pas like fanny packs and brown belts with black jeans. Long hair is usually a sign of pride for both FOB boys and girls as is a moustache. And yes, that too, for both boys and girls.

The FOY – Fresh off the Yacht!



This is the most recent (maybe just a decade old) addition to the world of desis abroad and they may have replaced ABCDs in the top spot of desi snobbery. Thanks to the legally or illegally acquired wealth by fathers back home, they enjoy a lifestyle that comes with it. A lifestyle that only youth in Laguna Beach or Beverly Hills can relate to. The advent of FOYs is so recent that they have sprung up mostly after the progressive boom (both social and technological) that South Asia has witnessed since the 90s. Most FOY’s have spent their teenage years in metropolitan cities like Bombay, Delhi, Karachi and Islamabad being waited on by servant-quarters full of domestic help or being chauffeured to private schools where being wealthy is so trite that It is almost boring. They don’t come from the villages and small towns which the ABCDs associate India and Pakistan with. In fact, it would be surprising if a FOY has ever stepped a willing foot in a village themselves.

Raised with privilege and golden spoons in their mouths, none of them have ever had to work in their lives. Besides a work-study formality in college; jobs are just something they are to think about after graduation. Summer and winter break plans? While their ABCD peers are returning home to work at their local mall and FOBs are begging the dean for summer campus employment because they cant afford to go home for the next seven years; FOYs are already waving a two thousand dollar ticket purchased by Baba to return home and do absolutely nothing. There may be an internship for a few hours at an uncle’s bank or a summer horse-riding class at their country club, but other than that, most of their summer and winter breaks are spent sleeping in, meals served in bed, smoking in the finest cafes next to local celebrities, enjoying high teas at country clubs, dance parties with A-level friends and attending concerts and/or fashion shows. Mama Baba will often complain that they don’t get to spend much time with their FOY kids because they are too busy being spoilt by luxury and reliving what they can no longer have in the States. The solution then quite often ends up being a week-long family trip to Europe. FOYs act like they are better than both FOBS and ABCDs. The former is something they would NEVER want to be confused with….and the latter seem to people that lived a very unglamorous life.




“I mean why would I go to a desi party or to some cheaspter Bhangra session. I’m sorry I only hang out with desis when I go home to Isloo. I would rather just go to a GT at a rooftop bar and have cocktails!”

FOYs also detest the dorms. Not because they feel out of place but mostly because they are not used to having to share anything in their life. They will often sleep through breakfast but Mama baba will ensure that a four-year meal plan is completely paid for because the thought of their spoilt child starving in college, devastates them. FOYs may acknowledge other FOYs but apart from a week or two during orientation, they try to save their socializing with each other only when they go home for breaks and realize that their fathers are also friends or frenemies. When they do run into each other on campus their conversations go something like

“Yaar are you going to stop in Paris on your way home this summer?”
“No yaar, Baba wants to do a week in Dubai and Abu Dhabi for the shopping festival…”
“Ok…well let me know if you throw a party at your farmhouse. I should be back in Isloo by then…”


FOYs are not intimidated by ABCDs because unlike FOBs; partying, drinking, smoking and dating are things they have already engaged in back home and at a much more glamorous level. In fact, they often end up intimidating the ABCDs. Also unlike FOBs, FOYS are not conscious of their English thanks to English-Medium schools. Their accents remain obdurately thick – a fact they hate because it’s the one thing they cant change - but even with the thick accent and possible grammatical gaffes, the one thing FOYs have in abundance is CONFIDENCE. To be honest, FOYs probably have more confidence than ABCDs and FOBs combined. Unlike FOBS, this is not the first time they have stepped into a foreign country, in fact most have already travelled the world by their 16th birthday thanks to Papa’s international work conferences.
FOYs usually dress in expensive designer clothes which they shop voraciously for. Shopping is the biggest attraction for them in the United States and FOY men seem to be just as wrapped up as FOY women about hair, designer clothes and expensive shoes. Men often dress classy and conservative while women dress classy and skimpy. However if there are other FOYs, FOBs and ABCDs in the room, a conscious effort is made to cover exposed skin by draping the customary shawl. Because come on yaar, gossip and judging each other is the one thing all three of these categories have in common!
Their academic pursuits consist of Business, Finance and liberal arts. Actually it doesn’t really matter what they study because their future’s trajectories are usually already carved out by Mama and Papa's connections and an inheritance. Some will stay on in the US and marry a Caucasian. Others move back home to the comforts of luxury living after having gotten four years of unsupervised partying out of their system. The partying continues more lavishly in their hometowns but once back on their yacht, FOYS will still complain of their country’s failed system while yearning for the carefree lives they once led in college.



So there you have it! Pee Ess….I acknowledge that these may all be politically incorrect stereotypes.

I also realize that many of you are highly offended by such generalized statement.
Some of you are vehemently forming a rebuttal with proof that you do not…absolutely DO NOT, fall under any of these categories.

But you gotta admit, you did catch yourself nodding along to some of the things mentioned in this piece, didn’t you?

Ha!