Monday, January 29, 2007


Last night, while discussing with the bff my woefully misguided predilection for men who are just not that into me, I realized that there is one thing that all of these men share (well, other than the not being that into me part of it...ahem...): a deep-seated, relentless hatred of Oprah Winfrey.

Why do these men hate Oprah? I'd hate to venture any guesses, but she is a woman who's climbed out of abject poverty to become THE richest and most powerful person in entertainment...and she's done it on her own...and, to top things off, she's not conventionally beautiful (just for the record, I happen to think she's STUNNING). She's effectively beaten men at their own game by making her own rules and some of them just can't deal with it. For whatever reason, I'm attracted to these very same men. And, for some reason, these men aren't always so into me. So, if men who HATE Oprah are wrong for me, then, following this line of logic, men who LOVE Oprah must be right for me.


From this moment forward, "What do you think of Oprah Winfrey?" will be (among the) first question(s) I'll ask all potential suitors and a negative response will most definitely result in my serious hesitation to pursue said suitors.

Friday, January 26, 2007


"Given a choice between grief and nothing, I'd choose grief."
---William Faulkner

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

INSOMNIA: not a haiku

Unlike my other insomnia posts, this one, clearly, isn't a haiku. I can't compose a haiku right now. I feel haiku'd out.

It's 3AM. I have to get up in three hours and, yet, the motivation to sleep eludes me. I heart great novels.

Come morning, I'll happily wear those bags under my eyes.

Sunday, January 21, 2007


Last week, my mom, my brother and I sat down to a sushi dinner. As per (well, mostly) always, amma rattled off engagement, wedding and birth announcements with the brevity of a newspaper. Then, more sweetly than dramatically, she sighed and told us that she often wondered how long it would be before she and my dad would have grandchildren of their own.

My brother, who has mastered the art of deflecting all marriage/procreation talks with witticism, assured her that he could take care of that; all he needed from the 'rents were the number of grandchildren they'd like and if they preferred biracial or Pakistani babies. I chided him for teasing amma and told him that this was not the time for silliness.

"Amma, I've asked you to keep these family blind dates coming. People have met in stranger ways..." I told her.

I threw in the but before she could express her delight.

"...but, you have to realize that I'm not going to NOT have children simply because I couldn't find Mr. Right..."

My brother nodded in mock support. I was half serious.

Her eyes and mouth became perfect Os almost as soon as she demanded to know how I planned on doing that.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," my mother tsk'd before I could respond (no one, by the way, tsks better than the South Asian mother). Saying such things was hardly appropriate, she told us.

"More and more women are doing it, amma. Having and raising babies on their own. I think I read somewhere that more women are doing that than actually getting married." I'd read no such thing. "Why should we deny ourselves the joys of motherhood, the MIRACLE of bringing life into this world just because we're not married?"

Amma's face was trapped somewhere between amusement and fear.

My brother was still nodding. He thought he'd read that article as well, he added.

Nice, Muslim girls didn't go and have babies without getting married first, Amma countered. It didn't matter what varieties of sins other women were committing.

"BUT AMMA! It's so easy. You just go to a lab..."

She let out an "uff!," another exclamation perfected by the South Asian mothers. This was followed by the "thoba, thoba." Still, I think she was just a little relieved to realize that it was artificial insemination about which I was talking.

"...AND I can choose a donor based on MY specifications. Like he can be a 6-ft tall, blonde Harvard Law grad with a genius IQ and an affinity for the outdoors..."

She wanted me to know that both me and my child would be disowned if I ever did something THAT.

"How could you do that to your own grandchild, amma?! Your grandchild!"

The baby would be a stranger to her.

"How could your flesh and blood, your family be a stranger amma! YOUR GRANDCHILD. Don't disown her, don't disown sweet, little Amelie. She needs her family!"

Amelie?! my brother asked, nearly spitting out his sushi.

"I can name her whatever I like. I love that movie. It was effin' awesome."

My mother didn't care. She didn't want to see my or Amelie's faces again!

"But she'll have a gorgeous face. I'll make sure to pick a hot donor! Plus I'm going to see that her father's a genius. I'm talking MENSA amma. Amelie's going to be a gorgeous genius baby."

We'd never joke around so vulgarly had we been raised in Pakistan.

My brother suggested that perhaps amma and abu could babysit while I was working, and shrugged a "Whaaat? It's a good idea," when amma glared him down.

"Poor Amelie," I sighed.

Could we change this ridiculous subject Amma wanted to know. She'd much rather talk about the weather.

Mission accomplished.

Friday, January 19, 2007


Dear Readers, don't fear, your Nerddd is still here (ahem) and she's still single and mostly happy but very busy. I know, I know, that's a vague and rather lame excuse for not updating my blog but, believe me, it's true. January has been a demanding and clingy but all-around sweet month.

So, I'm still around. More blogging to come, I promise. In the meantime, I leave you with this: Warrior Cats

Friday, January 12, 2007


I think I'd like to have my mother set up more family blind dates because I'm rather bored at the moment and, frankly, the FBDs are quite fun for the following reasons:

1) The mystery: I don't know about other peoples' experiences with family blind dates but mine always have elements of mystery thrown into them. For instance, during the last FBD, I didn't know the name of the guy with whom I was being matched, what he looked like, or where he lived. All I had to go on was his age and his occupation. What a brilliant way to pique a single woman's (trepidatious) interest.

2) The drama: Let's face it folks, the FBD gives me something about which I can bitch and gripe. My life isn't all that interesting (whose is, really, anyway. Liars, all of you raising your hands!). Add to that the fact that I like talking and having people listen to me (I'm convinced this is a by-product of being the youngest child) and is there anything better or more foreign as a FBD to hold others' attentions. And I won't lie: I love drama. I believe in drama. That feeling of building things up to an emotional crescendo assures that life will never be boring or bland.

3) The relief: Once the FBD begins, the emotional crescendo, that combination of anger, frustration, fear, humiliation, and anticipation will deflate as rapidly as a pin-pricked balloon. The realization that all I have to do is sit back and talk (everyone knows how much I love to talk) and GET THIS OVER WITH is a cathartic experience, as satisfying as the drama leading up to it.

4) The comedy: Even in the midst of griping, bitching, stomping my feet, the general distress and an overwhelming feeling of being railroaded, I'm very aware of the entertainment and comedic value of the FBD, as is everyone else. At the core of it, all of my drama is comedy. Knowing this keeps me sane.

5) That glimmer of hope: Wrapped up in the crazy mix of emotions leading up to the FBD is always that hope that, by some miracle of miracles, I'll end up meeting a great guy. Stranger things have happened, dear reader.

I'm so telling my mother to start up her matchmaking ways again! This should be fun (or something).

Tuesday, January 09, 2007


I recently received the following email on Friendster:

Hi Sabila,
I thing you're energic, smart,charm woman , want a make business(tourism) with me?
I'm a General Manager at Travel Agent in Indonesia?

It's about goddamn time someone recognized my untapped potential for tourism and my unrealized love for Indonesia. Believe you me, not everyone is cut out to be a travel agent in Indonesia. The industry needs smart thingers, which, clearly, I am. I thing all the time! Sometimes I thing so much that I get nauseous and anxious and I start to hyperventilate. That just means that I'm a more intense thinger than most people and that I thing on, like, a different level.

But what's a thinger without energic? A thinger without energic is a SLACKER and there's no room for slackers in Indonesian tourism. We need to stay AWAKE to make DREAM vacations's life, I thing, so's life. All of that being said, just remember that thingers can't get very far without being charm woman. I'm so effin' charm woman that when I walk by, some people stop and say, "Wow, she's charm woman!" while other, more perceptive people, say, "Now SHE should look into making business(tourism) in Indonesia because that's hot."

So, YES, random Indonesian General Manager at Travel Agent, I do want to make business with you!!! Call me?

Monday, January 08, 2007


We just received the following email (Time Magazine was SO right about me being the Person of the Year...I'm totally controlling the news right now):

The Company has been in touch with various city and news agencies regarding the gas smell in Manhattan and parts of neighboring boroughs and New Jersey. The smell is being investigated and a gas leak has been reported as being the cause, but agencies are broadcasting conflicting reports regarding the site of the leak.

The air in the building is currently being purged, which will clear out air with the gas smell and will not let the smell in further. The office space will smell better shortly and has already improved in most areas.

We recommend that employees stay in the office rather than leaving the building at this time. The air is better inside the building than outside. The PATH train has been temporarily closed, and we would not want exiting employees stranded on the subway in the event of a temporary interruption of service.

We will continue to monitor the situation and let you know as we have more information.


It smells like gas all over the city. The stink hit me as soon as I exited the PATH station and has managed to creep into our building. ConEd and the NYPD investigates.

I hate Mondays.

Sunday, January 07, 2007


According to, the American Dialect Society has chosen its Word of the Year for 2006. The word is...(drumroll please)...PLUTOED. Yes, it seems that Pluto, the planet recently rejected, abandoned, cast aside by the International Astronomical Union has been rescued, cleaned up, and crowned a winner, once again, by a society dedicated to the study of the English language in North America.

For those of you who don't already know (ahem), "to pluto" is "to demote or devalue someone or something, as happened to the former planet Pluto when the General Assembly of the International Astronomical Union decided Pluto no longer met its definition of a planet." Among other words in the running for Word of the Year, my favorite is "macaca" or "macaca moment," which is defined as "treating an American citizen as an alien." The hands down funniest selection on the list (download the pdf from the society's website) is "sudden jihad syndrome," or "an outburst of violence from a seemingly stable and normal Muslim." I couldn't stop laughing after reading that one.

Don't you just LOVE the fluidity of language?

I wonder how one becomes a member of the American Dialect Society. RR, being a member of the Jane Austen Society, an educator, and a former NOD (Revenge of the Nerddd's Nerddd of the Day) might very well know. RR?

Saturday, January 06, 2007


Here's another reason we should've all moved to Canada upon Bush's reelection in 2004: Little Mosque on the Prairie.

The sitcom, which premiere's on Canada's CBC network next week (I hope the first episode will be available somewhere on the Web), is about Muslims living in a small Canadian prairie town and uses comedy to shed light on what remains, for many in the western world, a religion shrouded in mystery and suspicion. The show's garnering worldwide praise and attention for tackling the post-9/11 religious divide between Muslims and non-Muslims with fresh and light hearted laughs. I doubt that a US station will ever pick this show up but, with over 6 million Muslim Americans, it would be super if that does happen.

Check out the show's website here (I'll post up a hyperlink when I'm on the PC tomorrow):

Wednesday, January 03, 2007


Dear People Who Roll Their Eyes at Me Upon Finding Out I'm a Vegetarian:

I hate you.

You don't see me rolling my eyes upon discovering that you're insensitive, small-minded prigs who can't keep your opinions to yourselves. And, please, refrain from trying to convince me that my reasons for going veggie--mainly, a concern for animals and the environment--are not important or significant. Now, go gorge on a steak while I enjoy my wheat gluten. No, I don't want to argue about your mother's right to cloak herself in dead animals or your dad's penchant for hunting deer while we dine because that's just rude. I may think your folks are crazy but I'm polite enough to keep my opinion to myself.

You are obnoxious. Please try to work on that.

Best of luck.

The Nerddd

Monday, January 01, 2007


Happy birthday to my matchmaking mom, who--after the family blind date, which I mentioned very briefly in previous posts from last month--once again, swore off her matchmaking ways forever. I'm blessed to have a mother as determined, funny, inspiring, strong, beautiful, confident, intelligent, charming, caring, selfless and honest as you.

I'd also like to send a very belated birthday shoutout to my dad, who happens to be a Christmas baby (yes, he and amma are a perfect holiday couple, indeed). Abu hasn't been feeling very well in recent days and had to be taken to the ER on Thursday night. He's fine now but still needs to undergo a few tests this week before he's given a clean bill of health. My brother and I ended up spending New Year's Eve at home with the 'rents since the doctor has ordered my dad to take it easy over the next few days. Every so often, my father would call one of us to him and tell us about how he'd love to see us married in his lifetime (I get my flair for the dramatic from my dad, no joke). There's no grave danger on the horizon, thankfully. When I asked him who in goodness' name I should marry, he told me that he would find someone for me (he was half joking.....I hope...gulp). I also watched the Ace of Cakes marathon the Food Network and am now officially a groupie of pastry chef Duff Goldman. While I don't know who I'm going to eventually marry someday far, far in the future, I do know that Duff will bake my wedding cake and that the cake is gonna rock.

A healthy, joyous, and prosperous new year to my parents, my brothers, my cat, the rest of my family, friends and my readers. I love all of you. Here's to a great year!