Monday, June 30, 2008


I'm tired and cranky. I've tried for hours to come up with something funny and entertaining to post here but I've got nothing (but the most desperate need to go away on vacation) folks. I'd rather be on a beach (wearing enough sunscreen to ensure that the skin cells don't go all funky on me) or at a spa or farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere.

I'm exhausted. A creature of habit, I'm tired of routine. I need a massage. I need a change of scenery.

I've got nothing for you folks.

But, luckily, my MP does have something for you. According to Canada's most popular magazine, Canada is where it's at. If I had the energy to do so, I'd vigorously protest such biased, one-sided, and probably absolutely accurate claims. But I don't. America's on its own.

Friday, June 27, 2008


Apparently, I've received a proposal from a friend of a family friend, who, along with his mother, saw me at some random desi gathering. For the record, a proper Pakistani girl isn't supposed to date (especially not non Desi men), so my folks have been keeping MP on the downlow for the time being--"until things are more permanent," they say. For the time being, they've been reacting to random proposals such as this by, first asking me what they should say (secretly hoping that I either flash them a diamond on my left ring finger, announcing that MP's finally proposed, making things so permenant), then giving me a lecture about waiting too long to get engaged, and, finally, deciding that they will tell the following story: we (ie, my folks) are in talks with a family (ie, MP's folks) in Canada, who have a nice, decent lawyer son in Manhattan, and since talks have gotten so serious, it would be wrong for us (ie my folks) to look at other prospective suitors.

Thursday, June 26, 2008


As many of you already know, I'm a pesco-ovo-lacto vegetarian (never eat something you can potentially befriend, I say...and, yes, I'm still trying to figure out how realistic a friendship with marine life or a vegan lifestyle is). Because of these dietary restrictions, when I go out to eat, I prefer going to vegetarian/macrobiotic/vegan restaurants because, hey, there's nothing like pork medallions made from the chewy goodness that is seitan (and when would a good Muslim girl like me ever get to "taste pork" anyway?).

Thankfully, MP is a pretty adventurous eater and doesn't mind vegetarian/macrobiotic/vegan fare (plus, he went to college in Vancouver, which, according to him, is, like, the capital of vegetarian/macrobiotic/vegan restaurants and a crunchy lifestyle). We almost always eat at vegetarian/macrobiotic/vegan resturants. Our current favorite, Pure Food & Wine, is raw as well as vegan, which makes it even better!

Suffice it to say, I've been spoiled, so, these days, I expect everyone to share in my enthusiasm for vegetarian/macrobiotic/vegan food. Is there anyone in Manhattan who doesn't like raw vegan? Recently, my very incorrect answer to this question, especially when scheduling business lunches, has been, OF COURSE NOT! The consequence is, of course, a distinctly disappointed business associate poking at his or her spelt noodles, while I, drowning in a sea of guilt, ask over and over again whether or not he or she is enjoying the delicious and (oh so very) nutritious food.

One would assume that I'd learn my lesson after the first or second time this happened. I assure you, reader, this is not true. It's almost as if I can't help myself from strong-arming my business dates, my friends, my parents (anyone who's willing to join me at a meal, really) into eating at vegetarian/macrobiotic/vegan restuarants. So, beware the next time you agree to eat with me.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

MP DOESN'T COMMENT HERE ANYMORE: An Argument Averted Because I'm so Easy Going

Nerddd: My blog isn't the same without your comments. Why have you stopped commenting, anyway?

MP: Actually, darling, what most of your readers who witnessed our very public courtship on Revenge of the Nerddd probably don't realize is that I'm an inherently private person. I don't usually leave comments on blogs. As you've probably noticed, I am, for the most part, very quiet on Facebook as well. When was the last time I Facebook'd? I can't even remember!

Nerddd: But you left comments on my blog. What was that: temporary exhibitionism?

MP: It was the only way I could talk to you. Why should I comment on my blog when I can just see you in person? If I need to say something in response to a particular post, I just pick up my phone. I'd much rather communicate with you one on one in real life than over the internet.

Nerddd: But my readers miss you.

MP: Come, come. I don't think any of your readers notice or care about my absence from the comment's section.

Nerddd: You know what I think? You're embarrassed to leave comments because most of your friends read my blog now. You want to maintain this too-cool-to-read-and-comment-on-blogs image of yours at the expense of our blog relationship.

MP: That's not true! (insert very long and convoluted explanation of why MP refuses to comment on my blog here; explanation may or may not have something to do with his Canadian roots, his love of hiking and the outdoors, his very busy schedule, and brie (unfortunately, I tuned out at "That's not true!")) So, in closing, I don't comment on anyone's blog.

Nerddd: Are we fighting? (it should be noted that what I actually wanted to say was "But I'm not just anyone. I'm your girlfriend!")

MP: I'm not sure. Maybe.

Nerddd: No, no. You are a private person and would rather not comment on my blog anymore. We're not fighting. Oh my God! You won't believe what happened on Mystery Diagnosis last night! I have three words for you: cerebrospinal fluid leak!

Gosh, I'm so easy going (plus, I didn't want our first fight to be over my blog)! I may very well be the embodiment of easy going. I'm so easy going that Hawaiian surfer types look at me and say "Damn, that chick's easy going."

Tuesday, June 24, 2008


As I mentioned in the post below, my folks are a little obsessed with Zee TV, the South Asian diaspora's dream of a cable network. Whether it's an old Bollywood flick or a celebrity gossip show detailing the latest scandal in the lives of Indian movie stars, the channel is increasingly becoming a constant presence at home.

Now, I know that many non-South Asians enjoy all things Bollywood because of the kitsch factor (I can't tell you the number of non-South Asian friends who've ended up watching and enjoying Zee TV with my folks at home. "This is what you're always bitchin' about??! BUT THIS IS GREAT!!!!!") but let me tell you, there can be no appreciation of the kitsch when you've grown up surrounded by it. There is nothing but an overwhelming sense of helplessness and frustration when you're subjected to this, this, AND this.

The baby's always cuter when it's not your own, folks. Try changing its diaper five times a day, every single day and trust you me, you won't be able to see beyond the massive heaps of fetid poop.

Monday, June 23, 2008


In one of the more surreal moments of my life, amma and MP sat down together and watched an entire episode of Ek Se BadhKar Ek--one of the many thoroughly annoying programs on an Indian cable network called Zee TV that my parents (like most South Asian, diasporic parents) LOVE--while I flitted in and out of the room, going about my own business.

"Shahrukh Khan is my favorite actor," I heard amma tell him at one point.

"Do you like Salman Khan?" MP asked.

"Yes, he's nice too," she said thoughtfully.

"Though a bit of an alcholic, no?"

MP, as many of you already know, is NOT South Asian.

It was bizarre.

Friday, June 20, 2008


MP and I celebrated our 8th month anniversary yesterday--and by celebrated, I mean I went for a long run and hung out with my folks while he worked late (oh, the lives of busy Manhattanites (fine, and Jersey Cityeans)!). I marvel that during this time, we haven't had a single fight (mashaAllah, knock on wood, etc.). He says it's because he's so easy going. I think it's because he's Canadian.

Thursday, June 19, 2008


I'm so pleased to announce that on the sixteenth day of June in this glorious year of 2008, for the briefest of moments, reading my blog became more than an excercise in idleness or voyeurism. Revenge of the Nerddd actually proved to be prescriptive and useful and, for one reader, she became the Panacea of the blogosphere, healing pain, providing relief to discomfort, hope to despair.

What the hezazzal am I talking about, you ask?

On the aforementioned day, an anonymous reader, a reader who was obviously experiencing the hip agony with which I'm so familiar, Google'd "how to crack my hip." My post answering just this very question was the second in the search result (as an aside, the first search result was a wholly unhelpful post from Yahoo! Answers; instead of showing our anonymous hip pain sufferer how to crack his/her hip, it answered the question, "why does my hip always crack/pop?" (my personal answer to this thought provoking question: I don't give a fuck). Clearly, I should've been number one, but let's save that discussion for another day).

Dear anonymous hip-pain-sufferer: internet fate sent you to me. I hope your pain is somewhat relieved. I am glad to have been your Florence Nightingale, if for a trice.

Dear internet search engines (ie, Google and all of you other engines that come in a distant second...), in the words of that great Statue of Liberty that stands in New York Harbor (but, let's be honest here, is waaaaaay closer to New Jersey), as penned by that poetess Emma Lazarus and paraphrased by me:

“Give me your pained, your limpers,
Your huddled masses yearning to be hip pain free,
The wretched runners of your teeming shore.
Send these, the athletes, with effed up joints to me,
I promise not to myofascially release their asses with my fist."

Wednesday, June 18, 2008


Remember this post about a comment from a devoted fan who, along with her devoted fan sister, is trying to solve the mystery of what is MP's real name? Sadly, 7825537, as my anonymous fan-sleuth calls herself, guessed incorrectly that MP's real name is Mike.

Well, she's at it again, and 7825537's latest detective/guesswork has led her to yet another name: Chris. Sorry, darling, but you're incorrect this time too.

A couple of questions for you (and I hope to goodness you have a moment to answer them while you study for your exams): what makes you think that MP has an Anglo-Saxon name? Now, I'm not saying that he doesn't have an Anglo-Saxon name--but, then again, I'm not saying the he does--but I'm curious about how you did manage to narrow it down to Mike initially (which, again, is not MP's name). Also, I can't remember whether or not you mentioned that we know each other in real life. Do we? If we don't, how did you and your sister find my blog? I'm always curious to know how folks stumble across nerd.

On a different note, to all the haters out there: bite me. I frankly don't give a shit about how you found my blog. Thanks.

Thursday, June 12, 2008


Reasons why I'm on the verge of breaking into a fresh new set of hives:

1) My new mortage broker is only slight more competent than my former mortgage broker;
2) my new mortgage broker's incompetence makes me a crazy, inarticulate, drivelling fool, who can't get across a single point or grievance;
3) I have to read through reams of documents before I sign my finances away to the hungry, hungry home gods;
4) I have to drive down to some godforsaken place called Clark, New Jersey to sit down with my incompetent broker because she's too goddamn distracted and incompetent to make sense to me on the phone;
5) I don't drive;
6) there's no good mode of public transportation going to godforsaken places like Clark;
7) and as always, I'm the "let's-buy-dad-(insert electronic device of your choice here)-for-Father's-Day" coordinator, which means I have to trek down to the store after work tonight and purchase the gift we've decided on for my dad.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

THE STATE OF OUR UNION (or, I can feel MP cringing as he reads this)

The couple that brings down the hizzle with their karaoke duet of the B-52's "Love Shack," stays together.

Thank blog (but mostly God) for MP.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008


As you may well remember, faithful readers who remain, I've experienced a couple of hives outbreaks in my life. While my first close encounter with the condition saw me rush to the allergist and fear the worst, the second encounter made me take pause. I connected the dots, seeing the bigger picture: it's extreme stress that's making me break into hives.

If I had any lingering doubts about the cause of my hives, friends, they have finally been quashed by yet some more evidence supporting the I-stress-way-too-much theory. This time, the stress was brought on by the heebie jeebies associated with purchasing a property; these hee-jees included the scramble to find a new mortgage broker after my last broker pulled a "surprise-I-don't-know-how-to-do-my-job" on me, the seller decided her life's purpose was to call me and harass me at work about signing contracts that were, literally, illegible, and my legal team--apparently following the mortgage broker's example, sat back and gave me a "gosh-those-I-regret-hiring-you-in-the-first-place-blues-look-really-not-that-much-fun-from-where-we're-sitting" look."

All of this happened in one day, folks.

So, it shouldn't have been too much of a surprise when, the following day, I broke out into "holy-shit-what-the-fuck-do-I-think-I'm-doing-buying-an-apartment" hives.

My allergist's advice when I called her for her wisdom: "You should really think about taking a day or two of the week to relax and not stress so much."


Monday, June 09, 2008

Dear Readers

Dear Readers:

It feels like there aren't very many of you left here (I could find out how many of you have stuck around by clicking on my handy site meter counter but I find the thought as horrifying as stepping onto a weight scale after my birthday dinner. I'd rather not know. Ahem.). I don't blame you. Like chewing gum, old blog posts lose their flavor pretty quickly. What's left is bland, boring, and probably inconducive to blowing bubbles. And what's the damned point if you can't blow bubbles anyway? So, I understand.

Several of you have asked why I went on strike in the first place. The reasons, dear faithful and remaining readers, are legion. Firstly, I am still sans wireless router (I suppose my failure to purchase a replacement wireless router can be chalked up to overwhelming technological sloth). Secondly, I'm totally immersed in purchasing an apartment (this has been over a year in the making, folks). The thought of being a landlord (Me? The Nerd? Surely, you jest!) still makes me nauseous (I think I just vomited Fiber One cereal in my mouth). Buying real estate (especially from a woman who, I'm convinced, is certifiably insane) is time consuming, to say the least.

Finally, I want to set the record straight as far as MP and I go: we're still together. So, for all of you conspiracy theorist out there who thought that the humiliation of MP breaking my poor nerdddy heart is what kept me away from blogging, I suggest it's time you dream up another story. We'll be celebrating our eighth month anniversary on the nineteenth. Booya!

The Nerddd

Friday, June 06, 2008


Dear Sabila,

Please update me. I miss you.

Your blog

The above email from our dear Puntabulous succeeded where others didn't for one reason and one reason only: Puntabulous somehow knew that nothing could beat a good dose of anthromorphism if the Nerddd was to be guilted back to the blogosphere--or guilted into doing much of anything for that matter (surely, he must've strategized with my mother, who, over the years, has taken on the varied voices of countless dead cars, shattered plates and lost toys and pets, expressing their sadness and grief until I, literally, dissolve into tears).

Thank you my dear Puntabulous for making me see my neglectful ways.

Blog, I am back.

Readers, I've returned.