Things I Did in 2008

• Got really bad haircuts - three of the last four. These ladies keep insisting that they know my hair better than I do and that they've taken "years off me" and that all the pretty women are going to be "Oooooh" but dammit, woman, I just want my hair nice and short so I can get out of bed and go to work and not have to bother with it.
• Learned that women don't like it if you call their hair "frizzy" - and I learned that the hard way too. I happen to think "frizzy" hair suits some women... apparently some women don't think so. My education is just beginning. Yet another advantage of working in retail.
• Realized that both Croatia and Somalia are shaped kind of like boomerangs. O Geo Challenge! Is there no end to the wisdom you bestow upon your subjects? (Peru looks like an ear, Cuba looks like an eyebrow and Nicaragua looks like something a cat threw up. Ha. Take that, Nicaragua!)
• Had tons of fun with my dad for five days straight when he visited. I'm getting so old.
• Lifted a man who weighs at least 50 pounds more than me clear off the ground. (Amazing things happen when the Crew score goals that involve Frankie Hejduk ghosting into the penalty area to connect with a sublime GBS chip. And I'm hernia free!)
• Made money. Unless I do something utterly ridiculous in the next four days, 2008 will be the first year I've actually made more money than I've spent. Perhaps my heirs will not be saddled with my debts* after all (*Heirs may still be saddled with gambling debts and losses from recent investments in Bernie Madoff's fund... after he was arrested)
• Accepted that f**ker and a**hole can actually be terms of endearment when used in the right context at the right time with the right people. Such occasions are rare, but when they come about, they must be cherished. And taken full advantage of.
• Blogged religiously at least once a week. *cough cough* Oh alright, not really.

My Ears are Blocked

Again. The same thing happened to me this time last year. It has to be the weather.

I had to get them "irrigated" back in Columbus where this brave nurse squeezed hot water into my ears using some strange rubber bulb type thing and tried not to retch when all sorts of ear wax spilled out into the bowl she was holding to my hearing devices.

But I could hear tons better.

I'm going to try to go see Dr. Angulo tomorrow. Dr. Angulo is a geriatric, senile Colombian who cured me of my bacterial infection 6 weeks ago and also:

1. Told me that every doctor I'd ever had till I came to see him was an idiot
2. Tried to explain to me that Mahatma Gandhi was the driving force behind the Partition of India (he may have been on to something there)
3. Interrupted examination and diagnosis for 10 minutes to try to remember all he could about this Persian prince named "Ahmad" that he had read about once years ago
4. Recounted an exciting story of how he discovered the tumor the size of a grapefruit in an indigent artist's testicle. (How said artist didn't realize he had a tumor the size of a grapefruit in his testicle I do not know.)
5. Nodded appreciatively at my knowledge of early 90s Colombian football players (Valderrama and Higuita was as far as I got, but it was enough)

'twas quite an interesting experience. He took his time (75 minutes) and got to know me and my issues, made a diagnosis, loaded me up with prescriptions for six different drugs, warned me of the several different ways I could die from the common cold and sent me on my way.

He reminds me of home. So back to him I go.

I Fell Off My Bike

So I fell off my bike earlier this week. It was all Russell Peters' fault. If I hadn't learned that there were free student tickets to his show here in a couple of weeks on offer at the Union, I wouldn't have been biking at breakneck speeds to get there and back during the 10 minute break in my Negotiations class. So I tried to jump the kerb and I probably shouldn’t have. But that doesn’t stop it being Russell’s fault. (I’ll still come see you Russell, don’t worry.)

The wheels came out from under me and I did a graceful twist/twirl in the air, my legs gently caressing the bike frame. I landed on my back. Glasses safe. Watch safe. Head safe. In that order. A passer-by was concerned.

“Are you alright?” she inquired.
“Yes… just feel a little stupid,” I answered, still on my back.
“Don’t worry. It’s happened to me loads of times,” she assured me as I rose gingerly.
“Well, then you must be one sorry uncoordinated type person,” I said. No no. I just thought that. What I actually said was nothing. I just smiled… for two reasons

1. She was probably just trying to be nice, my above average brain reasoned.
2. She was rather pretty. But seriously, I wouldn’t have been mean to an ugly girl either. Seriously.

Anyway, the bike was beyond riding. Brake lever broken off… back brakes jammed… etc etc. So I gave it up as lost, jogged to the union, got my ticket and jogged back to class in time. Later that evening, I limped home to my sympathetic house mates. Who laughed when I told them my tale of woe and injury. We have a funny dynamic in this house. We laugh at each other’s misfortunes. We laughed at Isaac when his girlfriend broke up with him. We laughed at Kenley when he missed his flight. And we laughed at Clay when… well, we laugh at Clay all the time.

You’ll be happy to know I have almost fully recovered from my bruises now (mother). I managed to sell the remains of my bike to a second hand bike shop for $50. Which wasn’t bad, considering I paid $110 for it brand new. I’m such a hustler.

Life goes on.

Hugh Laurie

So I about fainted when I realized that the star of the hit TV show House is Hugh Laurie. I discovered this only yesterday when I actually sat down/lay down and watched an episode. You see, I know him more for this:



And I expect from him things like this:


(Side note: I too, was at one point in love with Steffi Graf. But then weren't we all?)

But, never, never, in a thousand years, this:



He even has the accent down pat. Incredible. And he is such a massive **ck. Incredible.

I was always a fan of Hugh Grant... especially because it has oft been said that I look *ahem ahem* strikingly like him. But today, I have a new favorite Hugh, a Hugh who goes from being a stupid prince to a lispy recording artist to a complete jerk of a brilliant doctor. Hugh Laurie, I salute you.

Terrific, Heroic & Abstinent

The Columbus Crew (Columbus's excuse for a Major League Soccer (MLS) team - the MLS, by the way, is America's excuse for a professional football league) are playing their home opener this Saturday against Toronto FC (damn Canadians). And there are several of us going to the game, a 4 pm kick off.

Jeff, Clement and some others were planning on going to the Rumba Cafe (near the stadium), drinking excessively, and then walking to the game. But there was a problem. What follows is an email conversation over the course of several hours condensed and presented tastefully for your consumption:

(Sender of email in bold)

Jeff:
Unfortunately the Rumba Cafe is not open until 8pm on Saturdays, so going there and walking to the game won't happen. Plan B is Buffalo Wild Wings, where we can eat, drink and merrily watch sports on many televisions before one terrific volunteer drives us all over to the match (I will start a fund to pay parking for said glorious volunteer).

Clement:
It sounds good to me, but where the hell could we find someone who does not drink ? ahem...

Shahyan:
sigh. Alright fine. I will refrain from drinking on Saturday.

Clement:
Shahyan, you're my hero!

Jeff:
Shahyan..... I was going to have a word with you about your excessive drinking.... I am glad to see you are taking a day off.

So, to summarize:

• I'm a terrific volunteer
  
• I'm a hero
• I will not be drinking on Saturday
• Jeff is pleased with me
• I think I just got my parking at Crew Stadium paid for

Life is good.

P.S: This is funny because I don't drink. I suppose, if you didn't know that, this was kind of stupid. Perhaps it's kind of stupid anyway...

P.P.S: The term "drinking" in this particular post refers to the consumption of alcohol, not the imbibing of water and other such fluids necessary for the sustainment of life.

P.P.P.S: You know what annoys me sometimes? People who write P.S.S. instead of P.P.S. Post post script makes sense. Post script script is just ridiculous.

Labeled

So I haven't been quite so well this past week; a throat situation combined with the kind of coughs that rearrange your insides (well, mine in this case) has rendered me quite miserable.

So, this afternoon, on my first day off in a couple of weeks, I decided to try a little something to get rid of this affliction. I implemented the age old, mother-recommended cure for the dry cough and the congestion: Steam inhalation.

I boiled water, got myself a towel and sat in our lounge. There I was, head bent over pan of water, towel sealing heat in, inhaling deeply and pretending that my face wasn't being singed. Clay and Isaac were in the house, pottering around. Clay was quite intrigued by my cough remedy.

Suddenly, I head him say, "Oh!!" Then stomp stomp stomp as he ran from the kitchen, through the lounge (where I was doing steam) and into Isaac's room. "Hey Isaac!" he said excitedly, "Shahyan's a towelhead!"

And they both found this to be exceedingly funny. It was funny, I suppose, but more weak smile funny than the hearty ha-ha-ha funny that they thought it was...

Oh well, simple things please simple minds, what? This is towelhead, signing off.

Cold?

Earlier this afternoon, I looked at the weather forecast for tomorrow and saw that we would be hitting the 40s (roughly 7 degrees for you centigrade types... of which I am one, come to think of it). And I said to myself, "Oh, I could actually ride my bike to work tomorrow!"

Never in a million years would I have thought to consider 7 degree weather bike-ride congenial. But after two weeks of -7 and -14 and wind chill that kills, I suppose relativity kicks in.

And in Karachi last month I was roaming around in nothing more than shorts and a t-shirt... and the requisite undergarments. Naturally, my mother was horrified. Not at the undergarments of course... rather at the shorts... as in... let me explain.

My mother considers any temperature below 60 degrees (15 degrees centigrade) to be "freezing." So Karachi this December was "freezing." However, after almost 7 years in Ohio, Shahyan considered Karachi this December to be "pleasant" if not quite "balmy" but definitely not "freezing."

I was comfortable in my shorts and t-shirt and requisite undergarments. My mother thought I was woefully under-dressed and was going to catch pneumonia or double pneumonia or something terrible. Hence the horror.

And here I am, in Ohio again, considering a brisk morning bike ride in temperatures that are, according to the maternal scale, roughly 20 below zero (8 degrees centigrade below zero). She would be horrified if she knew. But, since I haven't posted in six months, I'm pretty sure no one, not even she, comes to this page any more. So I'll just leave this up here till someone notices.

*hums a little tune*