She-Hulk

That video is adorable, I must say.



Alright so I went to the mall today. Here are the highlights of the day:



Highlight #1: The She Hulk Destroys Her Bras

I went to the mall because I had a mission – bra shopping.

I destroyed two bras while trying to put one on after I took a shower today. I was just pulling the first one over my head when I heard that unmistakable RRRRIP that had me giggling for a while. My bra ripped in half. That's never happened before. And I know I haven't gotten any bigger – oh contraire! I've lost 5 kgs and I don't even know how. I'm eating more than ever, sleeping more than ever, moving around less than ever – statistically speaking, I should be giving a Hummer a run for its money.


And when I tried to pull the second one on, THE SAME EXACT THING HAPPENED. This time I only gigged for two seconds. Then I frowned. Well, that's not cool, I thought. Now I only have one bra left! (I don't like any of my other bras, so I never use them).

So I put on my last bra carefully, meticulously, as if it were a fine piece of glass, or a very delicate slice of cheesecake. It didn't rip. Score.

My friend Lumberzack had everything to say about this, from calling me a She-Hulk to making this snarky comment:
"Danya: ME NO LIKE BRA ANYMORES! RARGH!"

Which naturally pissed me off, until I visualized myself as a primitive woman, with mud and dirt and leaves in my hair, muttering and mumbling and growling, with a club in one hand and a tattered bra in the other… then I was in hysterics.



Highlight #2: Let's All Get Married

So as soon as I got to the mall, the first thing I did was go to the food court (naturally). My mom was waiting for me at a table when I finished, and she told me that she'd invited my friend Deema (Sad Girl) to join us.

When Deema got there and my mom drifted away, she told me about the conversation she had with my darling mother on the phone. This is how it went:

My Darling Mother:
"So Deema, I was talking to Muayyad [my older brother] earlier today on the phone, and we started discussing marriage. And I asked him, 'What about Deema, dear? Why don't you love her? She'd be a great addition to the family.'"

Deema (Queen of dealing with awkward moments):
"Oh that would be splendid! Then let's get Danya to marry my brother Hisham, since they're both geniuses, and they can have little genius babies!"

My mother and I will have a little talk tomorrow.

I think her Arab roots are kicking in.



Highlight #3: "Is It a Jail?"

On the way back home from the mall with my uncle, my 13-year-old cousin suddenly pointed at a building on the right side of the road and said:
"Hey dad. What's that building? Is that a jail?"
Uncle: "No, you idiot. That's a college."
Cousin: "Ohhh… okay."

5 seconds later
Cousin points at a building on the left side of the road:
"What about that, dad? Is that a jail?"
Uncle: "…… That's a MOSQUE, son."
Cousin: "… Oh."



It's almost 5:30 am and I'm off to bed. Leave me a comment that'll make me laugh and we'll all live happily ever after.

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Lick it off the floor

Today I had the most enjoyable lunch of my life.
With my family, believe it or not.

Our housekeeper went back to Indonesia on Friday, so we're going to see if we can live without a maid (I don't like that word) for a month. It should be very.. very interesting.

So anyway, to avoid having to clean anything she shouldn't have to clean, my mom said that anyone who spills a drink or something has to lick it off the floor/table. And I for one -being the pathologically uncoordinated klutz that I am- am really worried.
I know she doesn't mean it literally, but cleaning worries me too. Germs either way.
I mean the soggy mops and sponges that have been used over and over again….. they make my stomach churn.

In any case. I dared my brother Majd to drink my leftover Pepsi that I'd mixed with my leftover vegetable soup. He slammed his hand on the table and basically told me to put my riyal where my mouth was. I know that the secret to haggling is starting with a really low price so I said,
"Fine. I'll give you….. *mentally goes through purse* 5 riyals."
Majd: "Make it a 10 and we have a deal."
Danya: "Deal."
I felt like a real hustler.

So he drank it. And it was so funny I laughed till I cried. He started out okay, drinking it really fast… Suddenly his face went green and he spit something out. "Carrot," he gasped. Then he drank the remaining Liquid from Hell and only spit out a tiny bit because he felt like he had to throw up. Then he ran to the bathroom and I could hear him, all the way from the dining room, while he made weird gagging then gurgling noises. Yep, he definitely deserves those 10 riyals.
And yes, I concur, I do need to grow up.

So then we split the post-lunch duties between us. My mom took the dishes, my brother took clearing the table, I took cleaning the table, and the floor, and my dad took….
The TV.
("No, dad… Please… you're overworking yourself, this can't be good for your health. We must switch tasks, I insist!")

And my sister Zeina complained about not getting any tasks.
Suck up.
Nah, she genuinely wanted a task.
Weirdo.

So my evil genius of a brother decided to take advantage of that. He called her Agent Z One and told her to assist him in clearing the table (because it's such a daunting task, you know). So she started carrying the soup to the kitchen but she nearly dropped it after a few milliseconds, so Majd grabbed it and started walking, but he spilled loads on the floor.
"CRAP! NO! I don't want to lick it off the floor... I don't want to lick it off the floorrrr...."
He ran to the kitchen and got a cleaning towel sponge thing (I'm sure there's a fancy domestic name for it) and started violently scrubbing the floor. My dad saw him cleaning after the accident and followed him to the kitchen, where my mother was. Majd gave him pleading looks, but the mischievous look in my dad's eyes told me that Majd was already a goner.
"Majd?! You spilled soup on the floor?!" But my mom only laughed (damn shame).

So then it was my turn to wipe the table, but Zeina was being really annoying. "Let me help let me help let me help! Pleeeeeeeease. Pretty pretty pleeeeease with cherries and a Hannah Montana poster on top."
I had to get her off my back.
"Zeina... I mean, Agent Z1," I said. "I have a task of utmost significance. Can you handle it?"
She nodded eagerly.
"I need you to find.... my bunny-shaped night lamp." (Needless to say, I don't have one, but my sister is not the sharpest tool in the toolbox, so she ran off happily).

My brother was having the time of his life, watching Zeina being bossed around. He may laugh now, but when he was her age, my other brother Muayyad and I used to play the old Power of Fire trick on him whenever we were too lazy to get up and get something ourselves.
So for example, if we were watching Power Rangers, and we wanted some chips, we'd tell Majd to get us a bag of chips. He'd always decline at first, but then we'd say, in a bribe-y voice, "We'll give you The Power of Fiiiirrreee….."
"Okay okay!"
So then we'd basically point at a random spot on the floor and say:
"I hereby give you…….. THE POWER OF FIRE!"
Then he'd jump into it, receive The Power of Fire, then run as fast as he can to the kitchen, get us whatever we wanted, then come back.

Good times, good times.

Anyway, my sister came back with a frown on her face.
"I didn't find a bunny-shaped night lamp. Give me another task!"
"Oh… that's okay. But Zeina, I saw what you did back there."
"What?"
"Don't play mind games with me."
"What did I do?"
"Zeina *stern glare*"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." (looking guilty)
"Mmmmhm. Sorry for what?"
"I'm sorry I made fun of you."
"A-HA! You made fun of me. You're fired, agent Z1."
And so she stalked off, fuming.

God I amuse myself.

Demon of Procrastination Rears its Ugly Head Again

This is what happens whenever I try to study math:




Weird.. angel things. Dream Theater lyrics. Dream Theater logo. An eye. My name (twice). Pink Floyd lyrics. An apple. A globe. Piano keys. Some math. And an elephant shaped like a tennis ball, holding a tennis racket. With his trunk.

I wonder what my mom would say if she saw this paper. She tends to analyze whatever I doodle.

For example, I used to draw butterflies a lot. And whenever she saw them she'd to say,
"This means you're longing to be free. Free of what, Danya? Tell me."

Then when I switched to flowers she'd say,
"Ah, so. You have bloomed. Does this mean you're free of whatever was bothering you? I'm glad."
And she leaves the room with a satisfied smile on her face.

As for eyes, I've been drawing them since 4th grade. Apparently they mean:
"Danya, you're feeling like you're constantly being watched. By whom, Danya? Tell me."

She also comments on how I write my name a lot. It means I am a narcissist. I am awed by the fact that she can so artfully balance between calling me a narcissist on some days, then telling me I need to feel more confident on others.

My mother is a weirdo. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose.

I wonder what she'd say if she saw that elephant tennis ball.

List of possible scenarios:

"You have a secret need to whack an elephant with a tennis racket."

"Wow.... This is... This is... deep, man. Real deep."

"Honey, have you been taking something? Are you riding the white pony?"

"This is...... This means..... You............ You're feeling.... This is beyond my area of expertise.... I'm calling a psychiatrist."



Math final tomorrow. Gulp.

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Procrastinators Unite.................. Tomorrow.

Ah, procrastination. What a nasty, nasty disease.

It is... quite simply, indestructible. I tried, you know? I really did. I wrote to-do lists. I lured myself with rewards, food, and goodie bags. I made thousands of promises to myself. But it seems like the more I try to put an end to this cruel disease - the more symptoms I suffer from. It's like quick sand. The more I try to break free, the deeper I sink.
In fact, I've become so good at it, I can procrastinate procrastination. Who'da thought, ay?
Anyway. And hence - the name of my humble blog.. and the reason why we are all gathered here today.

You see, I've decided to channel my unquenchable passion for keeping things to the last minute towards a healthier, more fruitful habit: Writing. I do enjoy writing. I'm one of those people who like to blab on and on about nothing in particular, just because I can. I laugh at my own lame jokes, too. I mean, if I don't, who will? I amuse myself, really.

But that's besides the point. Where were we? Oh yes. I've decided to start a blog instead of wasting time on Stumbleupon. Not that I can give up Stumbling; I am a Stumblaholic. You caught me, mouse-handed. I bet Stumbleupon is just crawling with procrastinators like yours truly. No wonder it's such a safe lil haven for lil ol' me.
"Just one more click. *click* ..................... No I meant one more click starting now. *click* Oh I like this..... But not really. Just one more super-cool thing then I'll get back to that analysis, honestly... *click* Oh WOW Italian recipes! Let me just Like this.... Oh what the hell, just one more.. *click*......................"

You get the picture.

The good news is, I work well under pressure. I can keep an essay until the last minute then come up with something passable and get a passable grade. As some wise person said, "If it weren't for the last minute, I wouldn't get anything done."
I tried fooling myself into believing that procrastination is not causing me any problems. "Time you enjoy wasting was not wasted" and yada yada, right?! And the sad truth is, procrastination actually isn't causing me any problems! Not now anyway. I know that if I spend more than an hour on my essays I could probably come up with something better than what I usually hand in... But I never get bad grades for them. So why bother?!
I get this silly little bout of paranoia every now and then and worry that, if I do change, if I do cure my Procrastinationivitus Syndrome, things will all go downhill from there..... Procrastination is really the only method I've ever known, and it works just fine. Why risk a great thing?

Like I said, it's silly. But so are most fears.

Now, I'm not really the psychotherapy-loving, mumbo jumbo, you-are-this-because-when-you-were-a-child-you-did-that type of person - that would be my mother.
"Danya dear, how many times have I told you, you have to squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom of the tube. Bottom. Bott-ommm. This just proves what a messy person you are."
And I go, "Oh so now you can tell what kind of personality I have by the way I squeeze my toothpaste?"
"Of course. I read something about it."
Oh and it gets better. My mother believes that if I start squeezing my toothpaste from the "bott-ommm" of the tube, all my problems will be miraculously solved. She believes that actions can shape your mentality. Like when I used to walk with my feet pointing slightly inward, she kept telling me that this meant I had confidence issues, and if I start walking properly I'll start feeling more confident and my self-esteem will soar through the roof :)
Like I said, not my cup of tea. But I've recently started thinking long and hard about why I procrastinate. I came up with the following reasons:

1- Deep down, I am a perfectionist buried under layers of lethargy. I have this need to be perfect and do perfect things. So I keep giving half-hearted attempts at everything and tell myself that I can do better if I really want to.

2- Because it works. It bloody well works. I putt off doing something unenjoyable, by doing something enjoyable... And I enjoy it! There really isn't anything to elaborate on.

You know, they say that if you know what the problem is, you're halfway through solving it. Well, ok, I know I have a problem: I procrastinate. They also say that if you know the reason behind a problem, you're halfway through solving it.
Well. That's halfway... and another halfway..... According to the previous statements, I've already solved my procrastinating problem.



BULLPOOP. I'm obviously still a pathological procrastinator, otherwise I'd be finishing (starting) my physics homework, analyzing the rhetorical devices used in JFK's inaugural address, writing up a report on the question of the link between globalization and gender inequality for the Model United Nations conference we're having at our school, working on our "Empowering Laborers" presentation, studying Hadeeth, doing the Arabic homework, working on the EPGY grammar course, writing the Hadeeth article........... or doing the chemistry homework. And I'm pretty sure I left something out.


Ah, this is really sad. I am pathetic.

Paging Mr. Willpower. Is there a Mr. Willpower in the house?

I'll leave you folks with one final gem of wisdom:

"The two rules of procrastination:
1) Do it today.
2) Tomorrow will be today tomorrow."

And a few cartoons that pretty much sum up my life:











Warm regards; be good.


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