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Meher Bukhari:

I defended her everywhere I could and even when I could NOT. Despite her atrocious dressing sense, pastory make up face, and yelling like Maasi Museebtay. I never thought twice while defending her that dunya walay would think what a bad taste I have. I liked her for her neutrality. But I was wrong. SO WRONG. At start of this year, in the interview with Salman Taseer, she proved what a hypocrite, pretentious fruad, two faced and blatant liar she is. I am tormented. I am embarrassed. I am vexed.

I HATE YOU MEHER BUKHARIII. I HATE YOU. THANK GOD, THANK OH MY GOD, THAT YOU ARE BUKHARI WITH U AND NOT O!

Rachel McAdams:

Whenever anyone would say how beautiful Rachel McAdams is, I ALWAYS used to mention that not only she’s very beautiful but also has the aura of intelligence and independence about her. But I was wrong. Because an intelligent person makes intelligent choices. And Rachel McAdams goes for “makes” instead. I lament getting my hands on Morning Glory and Midnigh in Paris this year. This lass, only sees the casts, makers and script of the film, and not the role that she is getting or the effort she needs to put in. I realize her great works aren’t HER great works. CREDIT goesssss to the directors and well… her pristine beauty.

Brothers and Sisters:

This one TV show I LUBED truly, madly, deeply. I was obsessed with the show. The show was almost sacred for me. BUT WHAT THE *^^&%%$$%#%R^&%*&^*&^&^%%$^&&*&*^)*&%^$$#$# SEASON FINALE. NOT A SINGLE EPISODE WORTH WATCHING. It was like putting apples and anaconda together and getting them married and showing anthropoids as their kids. At times I felt if Ekta Kapoor was trying her hands on American television and making fusion — United States of Dhotistan.

Mission-To-Get-Me-Married-Wali-Aunty (MTGMMWA):

Not that I was ever fond of her but I never knew that I was capable of hating someone more than I hate facebook. Just a few words, while my father in the hospital, from her to my mother: ABIDA ki shadi kab kara rahi ho? And my hate for her, has gone to a whole new level. They say, hate changes the person. And TADA… I am changed. Hate has turned me into a poet. Here’s my little work:

My hate for you is a blistering occean of fire,
Pushing you into its flame is my one and only desire.
May you turn soon into an ugly loser vampire,
So I can take wooden stake and stab the ^%%$$#$&^&*^*&*&^%$$@##@@#@#$#%$# OUTTA YOU.

Rose beauty parlor:

Yeah. Whatever. Used to go there for facial, waxing etc till the mid of this year. I dont go there for facial waxing etc anymore. People laugh. Also, Rose beauty parlour services have gone to ditches. So I left going there. Now I go to some other beauty parlor. HOWEVER, even the new beauty parlor services didn’t help in making me look a little above than bearable on the eyes. But anyways, I hate Rose beauty parlor now. BUS.

Sprite:

Well, almost. Have become a lil health [read: skin] conscious now. I feel sick. I feel now that I am cheating on me when I sometimes having it. However, less so. Switching to Pakola. Only one thing is keeping me from Pakola. Back in my B.A. , my group friends used to call me, Pakola type girl. What does that mean? Well THAT I leave it to your imagination!

My Internet crush:

I could write a book on him. I would fantasize, dig and stalk him. He was one of my majoristestest crushes and ONE and ONLY internet crush if anything of that sort exists. But it MUST, because I had an internet crush on him. Anyways, so he was (is) exceptionally intelligent , unbeatebly witty and extra ordinarilly tough. AND I was clean bowled. I still remember how I used to spend hours and hours reading all his posts/comments that he would post on different forums and finding out other sites he would participate at. I was lit-ra-lee converted into Sherlock Holmes. And I was virtually suffering from multiple personality disorder. Because I, well, kinda sorta converted into that heroine of trashy urdu novels, who talks to her imaginary hero. And God knows what happened this year. I am myself astonished by my stoicism for him. On second thought, may be I know too. May be that’s why crushes are crushes that they wear out eventually. They just need an excuse to wear out. Sadly, mine got one. Tough luck.
Ah… NOT mine. It’s HIS!

Admiration for Ashton Kutcher:

Do I really need to state the reason why it has gone to never comeback? Just one thing Ashton Kutcher, whenever anyone questioned your acting skills, I would always rebut with ferocity and assert: Have you ever seen Ashton Kutcher’s acting when he has to show restraint in any scene? No one can ” restraint -act ” as briliantly as he does. Needless to say I wouldn’t bother now.

And this is for thou…
Man, infidelity thy middle name.
Learn something from your doppelgänger (read: dog)
and have some shame.