my cat does not have nine tails.


apart from the few iranians who claim that friday is named after this persian chick named farideh (and i want to place on record that i have nothing against iranians – as long as they’re female), most people agree that the etymology of the word has to do more with venus than any other woman. of course, me being me, my fridays don’t work out that way. normally i just spend them sleeping off a red bull induced sugar crash or getting a further tan (yes, its possible) on my biped sojourns of the land of gazelles. however, instead of worshipping the goddess of love, beauty and fertility like any proper roman (not that there’s anything roman about me if you ignore the fact that i’m a roman polanski fan) would do a few thousand years ago i spent the last friday – well frinight – falling in love with a whole bunch of goddesses of the persian variety and since i can’t comment on love and fertility, lets  just concede that the female of the persian species is superhot – even if she wastes her life in blissful ignorance of my existence.

but this post wasn’t meant to be about what i did or didn’t do on friday. as anyone with any knowledge about the goings on in the life of icemen would know, its the mondays that count. and adhering to this policy, the incident of the week took place on a warm monday evening.

in case you  aren’t aware of the way things work in the icemaniverse, the rule of thumb is that if there is a malluesque gent peaceably putting away fried drumsticks like theres no tomorrow in the food court of some mall while checking out the be-denimed rear of some decidedly non-malluesque female, its usually his majesty himself. this is not because i am some sort of sociopath who choses victims based on whether or not their chopped up remains would fit in the trunk of my car – i don’t possess a car (not even a driving licence) – and if i did it would probably be a hatchback, thereby eliminating all of womankind with the possible exception of little bo peep – its because i’m your average hormonal young man and that’s what we do. and also, i like drumsticks.

in normal cases, supermodel lebanese types don’t join me on my table and ask me if they could perhaps buy me a drink. and, true to form, this did not happen this time either despite all my attempts at telepathic thought suggestion. however, i think its now more an issue of aim than effectiveness as the telepathic thought suggestion did work – only not on the desired target. as it transpired, i was joined at my table by the man who had been created with the post of light-bulb-changer-at-the-sistine-chapel in mind. he looked like alam channa would have looked if alam channa had not stunted his growth by smoking charas at shahbaz qalandar’s shrine as a boy. indeed my first thought at seeing him was that here, finally, is the man who keeps rochester’s big & tall in business.

it is bad enough to be joined by a man at your table who blocks your view. it is worse when he is around nine and a half feet taller than you. it is even worse when he is joined by a lady who looks like she gave megan fox the tightest contest for the part in transformers since miandad hit that last ball for six in sharjah in the days when women for me for foggy concepts and normally irritating beings liable to pinch my cheeks and shriek “mashallah he’s grown so big!” as if i could possibly have been expected to grow smaller. it is a fact that a certain type of person ends up ruining the image of an entire race. for instance, no one really likes lawyers from quetta because of ali ahmed kurd. rawalpindi has not been what it was thought to be since sheikh rasheed started getting elected from there. and it is in a similar fashion that the reputation of good looking women has been blighted by those of their members who have wasted it by getting married – more specifically by those who have wasted it by getting married to people other than me. and it is into this latter category that mrs. channa fell.

if you are a woman living in modern times you will have a vague idea that the modern day preference among men – apart from patrons of pashto cinema – is a woman who, while she has curves, is more akin to a winding mountain trail than a roundabout. and this is why there is such a thing called the atkins diet. however, i’ll let you in on a secret. while we appreciate the effects of your voluntary starvation and self torture in the form of decreased female surface area – there is on occasion nothing more delightful than the sight of a gorgeous woman digging into a plateful of fried wings the way that platefuls of fried wings are supposed to be dug into; eating, of course, being a spiritual activity in the same class as transcedental meditation, dervish-style-dancing and apple juice consumption. such a situation wherein two like minded souls could have been fused into one over an act of unwavering faith in the right of tastebuds to satisfaction was rather dampened by the presence of said lady’s husband who was towering over me with the same sort of menace that nanga parbat exudes to those watch it from the fairy meadows in northern pakistan.

it is hard enough to avoid laughing when a guy of the large economy size has a voice like a canary and uses it to drone unceasingly about the high temperature and humidity but it is virtually impossible to do so when his wife looks at you and rolls her eyes to indicate that this is not a special performance but regular programming. and it is not a good practice to laugh when the guy you are laughing at is seated a foot and a half away from you. however, if the long line of icemen from which i am descended is not known for one thing it is a lack of presence of mind and when the guy started turning a fine shade of plum at my mirth i said, “my friend if you think this is hot, you have obviously never been to multan” which calmed him down somewhat. but the problem was that his wife (i’m assuming they were married ‘coz she had a ring on the appropriate finger and i dont see why a dainty thing like her would be dating a behemoth like him) continued her policy of silently guzzling the chicken wings and rolling her eyes every time the big guy said something ridiculous – and the guy subscribed to the sheikh rasheed school of oratory so you can imagine my predicament. because the next thing he did was bitch about the crowded environs. and i said, “my friend if you think this is crowded, you have obviously never been to multan“. then he started on the traffic in the city and i said “my friend if you think the traffic here is bad, you have obviously never been to multan“. to the casual reader this might suggest a certain lacking in the art of conversation but i laugh loud and i laugh long when i do laugh and the steroids had obviously snapped a few circuits in this dude’s head. in any case, it worked.

when i left i shook the dude’s hand, invited him to multan, rolled my eyes at his wife and stole the napkins provided to them by the establishment. he looked decidedly confused and this time the wife was the one who burst out laughing and i hightailed it out of there leaving her to provide an explanation – like maybe “if you think he stole your napkins, you’ve obviously never been to multan“. but i didn’t stay to hear what she said.


i need to practice my farsi. man bayad farsi ro bishtar tamrin konam.


18 Responses to “my cat does not have nine tails.”

  1. You know what? I used to have this job I hated at a company I used to like. Then they figured out what was what, and I found myself out of a job as a consequence. For the next 30 months, I experimented with first being a slave and then with being free like a bird looking for its meal in a drought-ridden expanse of land. And now I have come to the blessed point where I have this job I like at a company I still like, and the people here have no inclination of what is what.

    Point being, I cannot afford to ‘laugh out loud’ while sitting in this new place, and certainly not this many times in such a short span of time… you are a public hazard, as long as public is me.

    Next time, when I read your post, I will clasp the phone to my ear, and pretend to be enjoying a great conversation.

  2. I spent most of my winter vacations in Multan when I was kid. I’m sorta in agreement that I’ve never been anywhere hotter and I’ve been to Africa. 😀 Multan heat makes you want to lie down and die.

  3. 3 khawar

    iceman is a legman atleast when it comes to a chicken 😉

  4. 4 Saeed

    But what does that Farsi in the end, mean? Unfortunately, the only Farsi I used to know was “____ gurba ast”. Understandably, it really didn’t help impress the persian ladies.

  5. persian chicks are uber hot!! i like the lebanese better though cause they have sweeter goods. 😀

    and dude youre funny, or maybe i just think that cause ive never been to multan! 😛

  6. LOL. I do agree about hot people being a waste if they marry anyone but the person who thinks they’re hot. 😦

  7. @ knicq: i thought you only laughed at yousufi and wodehouse. 🙂 even i dont think i compete!

    @ saira: my friend, if you think that was hot you have obviously never been to multan – in the summer. 🙂

    @ khawar: i have learnt two things in life – the closer it is to the bone, the better it tastes and and never trust a girl with two “t”s in her name

    @ saeed: that i need to practice my farsi 🙂

  8. @ farooqk: but lebanese girls, as a rule, speak even worse farsi than i do.

    @ specs: don’t we all? 🙂

  9. its a good thing we dont expect them to speak then!! 😀

    • I kneel in respect…Xill-e-Ilahi… ROFL for the last 15 minutes… in my head at least…

  10. never trust a girl with two ts in her name?

  11. given name. “chhanno” mein do kya, eik bhi “t” nahin.

  12. this post wasnt really funny. you know that right?

  13. I laugh at all things funny. I love Yousufi and Wodehouse, among others, because they never ever disappoint.

    And so far nor have you. 🙂

    Its no competition. But its a list that can always grow…

    When you finish your first master piece I want to be able to say I knew it all along. And I want a signed copy.

  14. 16 skzworldofdreams

    0_o Umm…frosty…you ok? This doesn’t sound like you. :/

  15. @knicq: you’ll get one, inshaAllah 🙂

    @sk: really? how is it different from what i usually sound like?

  16. Lol hilarious! Totally lol multan.. Lol

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