The Versatile Blogger Award – That’s me. Well, according to my very first friend on the blogosphere at least. Thanks Chris– you are the perfect combination of sentimental and completely hilarious!

Seeing as how Kate and Bill decided to get married the same day I received an award, I assume none of you watched my televised acceptance speech. I’m a little hurt but because I’m nice, I’m going to break it all down for you.

PART 1: Link back to the blogger that gave me the award


PART 2: Tell you 7 things about myself

Here goes:

  1. This blog is my very first attempt at writing or anything near creative – ever. I’m so nervous about the whole thing that every time I put a post up, I spend the whole day asking my friends if it was terrible
  2. I can’t go into any kind of store without finding something I “have to have”- even if it’s a home appliances shop. I have no semblance of control but I try.
  3. My brother recently noted that I sometimes go whole weeks without entering our kitchen.
  4. I eat anything with sugar in it in two’s – never less, nearly always more.
  5. By2 p.m., I’ve already had 4 cups of coffee.
  6. I’ve lost handle on real life and now look at everything through the eyes of my (four or five) readers. If you ever catch me zoning out of a conversation it’s because I’m thinking “Will this be funny?”, “Can I write about this?”, “What can happen that would make this a good post?
  7. I haven’t heard any of their music in ten years but I still love the Spice Girls.

PART 3: Choose 15 other blogs to pass the award to.

And here they are!

The person that got me writing in the first place.

One my earliest discoveries and it’s been a fun ride ever since.









In the old days, when blogging was still unknown to me and indulging in any internet-enabled social interactions seemed a tedious affair, I would spend much of my work day lurking around various blogs that I had stumbled upon. I would laugh, read, enjoy and then slink away in anonymity.

Now that I have my own blog and a resultant predilection for putting everything that pops into my head on the internet, I know first-hand the boundless joy from receiving an flattering comment – such as the one below.

“perfect work you have done, this site is de facto cool with superb info. I suggest you put this content to reddit, and then more and more population might entry your posts. Thank You”

Heartwarming! I’ve never been cool so being de facto cool was a distant dream!

Having learnt this, I now make it a point to leave a comment on anything I enjoyed reading– whether it was an idea, writing style, LOL-ability, even good grammar. This in turn, has brought me to the realization that, while I can churn out one average 200-300 word post daily, my ability to write a coherent compliment or summation of what I felt about a topic is far less than average.

I’ve put much thought and many sleepless nights into it and I think, perhaps, I have found the reason for my glaring inadequacy when it comes to comment writing.

A few months ago my dearest friend left the country. I was so distressed by the whole thing that I felt I must get on every possible mode of communication to keep the friendship afloat. As a result, with a heavy heart, I finally renounced my title as the “Last Person in their 20’s Not on Facebook.” Fortunately (if you’ve noticed the length of my sentences) I’m not fit for Twitter so I spared myself that. Now that I’m there, I often find myself astounded at other people’s ability to say anything about anything. It must be nice to be able to do that. I don’t know how to – from a lack of practice, I fear. Those that have been on for a few years are far at the fore in this respect.

If I have commented on one of your posts or replied to a comment you left on one of mine, you know what I am talking about.  But before you jump to judge, or wonder if I’ve paid someone else to write my blog, you should know that I often spend more time on a single comment than I have on many posts. So don’t blame me; blame Facebook for being unappealing and kind of silly.

To My Feet,

My, you used to be hideous – extremely so. Especially when you grew to full size much before I did. There I was, maybe 13 years old, somewhere in the area of 5 feet where you were an incongruous size 9. I suppose we both hurt each other, didn’t we? Remember that one time, when I asked to see that pair of shoes in my size and was asked to visit the men’s section. Me spending years forcing you into in size seven shoe. You understand, don’t you? Skateboards were certainly not allowed at school and I was only protecting myself from being mistaken for having TWO for feet.

Though lately – and I’m not sure when it happened or I first began to notice – you are no longer as horrid. I often find myself gazing down in wonder at you as I walk. As you know (obviously) I walk really fast. I wonder if I look like a crazy person careening through life looking at my feet but it’s worth it. After avoiding looking at you for all these years, it is worth it.

So I just want to say thank you. Thank you bearing the weight I’ve just put on, for being too giant to fit into any of the shoes I like – I save so much money that way and now, when I’m all done with teenage insecurity becoming reasonably nice to look at.

Love, Love

(Not in a creepy way and my love for feet applies only to you – no one else’s)

Sometime last week, I was reading this post on Freshly Pressed. I was super busy and only managed to glance through it – that was enough. The post included delicious pictures of coconut macaroons and a recipe as well. It looked easy enough but not when you don’t own an oven or have any concept of baking.

If you’ve been reading, you may already know that I’m quite co-dependent and end up enlisting my friends and family to help with my crazy (and often dull) schemes. As I was reading, a friend whose parents are both chefs rang me. Perfect timing!


Him: HEY!

Me: I need to make coconut macaroons.

Him: Why?

Me: What do you mean why? I just do.

Him: Umm okay.



The hesitation was mostly because he knew that he would be doing all the baking and all I’d be doing was looming over him telling him how he was doing it wrong.

Friday arrived – It had been my first day off in three months. Well, almost. I had to pop-in to work for about an hour and travel two to do it. Anyway, I was back soon enough and ready for what I thought would be a couple of hours of baking.

I start by reading the recipe out to my friend. 

I need to digress for a minute. To me, the people who write recipes are the most evil. Every time I read a recipe, it always looks simple and undemanding.

 Of course, this is not true. It is hard to make even the simplest things because words like chop, sauté, julienne – words that fly of the tongue ever so easily, that occupy only the smallest place on a page – take much more time and effort to do than reading them. This is presumably known and even effortless to a person that cooks or bakes regularly. To a person that does not, on the other hand, it may come as a shock to find out that chopping an onion is a near impossible task. I was recently forced to cook and attempted to make a vegetable dish whose recipe included onions.  It took me nearly an hour to do chop one single onion (not well, might I add). Drudgery!

Back to the macaroons! So not only am I an idiot, I suppose I am also not a nice person. My friend was like, “Can you please look up how much a cup is”. I spent several minutes mocking how he thought a cup was a real measure and guess what! It is – 200 grams in fact. Not just the size of whatever cup you have lying around. I have no excuse.

Okay so we get down to it. I have no concept of how many macaroons we’re going to get out of the whole thing but that doesn’t stop me from insisting we double the recipe. I wish people would stop me when I act like this but they don’t.

The instructions provided were lovely and uncomplicated.  After following them, I can tell you that this is what they should have been.

Step 1: Spend an hour grinding almonds with a stone and pestle because the recipe suggests an amount that is too little to go into your grinder. 

Step 2: Attempt to separate the eight egg whites. Allow your friend to do seven. Try one. Drop the yolk into the bowl.

Step 3: Finally see what ONE KILOGRAM of powdered coconut looks like. Realize you have no concept of what a kilo is either and you’ve made a huge mistake.

Step 4: Mix everything together and stir. Cover the entire kitchen with coconut!

Step 5: Transfer the ingredients to the stove. Add another layer of coconut to the kitchen in the process.

Step 6: Be thrown out of the kitchen because the kind of stirring required is not for amateurs. Silently, be relieved.

Step 7: Then spend forever rolling the dough into balls.

Such a good hairday wasted in the kitchen


Step 8: Put them into the oven and spend an hour cleaning up the terrible mess you’ve made.

In all, this whole exercise took seven hours and reminded me how much I hate all kitchen related activities. The only thing fun about it was calling them Coco Maca’s all day.  In the hours we were there, my friend’s mother baked FIVE different cakes. No, that is not a typo- she actually baked five different cakes.

I was so tired and unfulfilled by the time they were done, I truly couldn’t have cared less how they turned out – or so I thought. I tasted one and only then  remembered that I absolutely loathe coconut desserts.

I knew that. I’ve known that my whole life. Why then did I choose to spend my first weekday vacation day in three months making a snack I wasn’t going to eat?

Because that's what they looked like on the website


Those are ours

As it turns out, no one I know is a fan either. So if any one out there is interested in one kilo of coconut macaroons, you know where to find me.

Sandwich Texts

 Sandwiches – they’re versatile, delicious and easy to make. You can take anything, slap two pieces of bread around it and pass it off as a meal. I love sandwiches!

Yesterday, while I was at coffee with a friend we encountered a rather strange sandwich. I wondered what other kind of strange sandwiches there were. How better to find out than to send a mass text to everyone I know asking what the weirdest sandwich they had ever eaten was ?

Here are some of the responses I received. Most defeated my purpose of finding a stranger sandwich than the one I was looking at. Rather, it only proved the Good Greatsby’s point that my friends are weird and creepy. Also that, not everyone appears to take me too seriously.





Finally, here’s the sandwich that I was talking about (the first one). The LGBT!

A lesbian-gay-bisexual-transgendered sandwich? That’s odd!

Okay honestly, it’s a Lettuce – Gouda – Basil – Tomato sandwich which , I don’t know, is vegetarian so it still sounds a little yucky to me.

Usually, it’s my love of air-conditioning and theatre snacks that lead me to the theatre each week. Much more so than my love of films but today was an exception. My original intention was to watch Scream 4. I love the Scream movies. Don’t get me wrong, they are kind of terrible but I loooove to watch them.

I had to watch it but it wasn’t playing anywhere near where I live. I was desperate so a couple of friends agreed to make the trip to a theatre an hour away with me. This was forty-five minutes before the movie was to start.

So we get to theatre just in time for what we thought was when the show was going to start. I walk up to the counter and overjoyed, asked for three tickets to Scream. The guy behind the counter looks up at me (I guess to check if I was disabled) smirks and says “It’s not playing anymore.”

@#$& lying internet! Needless to say in non-symbols, I was pissed.

A show of The Roommate was about to start. Having come all the way, it would have been painful to go back without watching a movie.

A few things you should know right away:

  • I had glanced, only for a second, at the poster before the movie started. I’m still not sure why but I thought it was some kind of collegey romantic comedy.  At second glance, it was very apparent that it wasn’t. Regrettably, I only got the chance to do this after the movie, when it was far too late.

  •  Before Leighton Master appeared, I thought the other girl ( Minka Kelly ) was her. As you can imagine, the actual appearance of the Gossip Girl had me thoroughly confused. It made my brain short circuit a little and that caused me to spend the next fifteen minutes trying to figure out which was which.


  • I then spent the next forever minutes reading a synopsis of the movie on my phone. One that even Wikipedia admitted was too long. Why? I get 2GB of internet free on my phone. Despite WordPressing, Facebooking, G-mailing, G-talking, G-walking (oops, got carried away for a second) I can’t even make a dent in it. Thanks to how thorough it was, I had the enjoyable opportunity of telling my friends what was going to happen a second before it happened.

 Luckily, there’s something about the theatre that makes it impossible for me to not enjoy a movie. I usually take a nap. That may be why. For that reason, I wouldn’t be being honest if I said I didn’t like it. Nonetheless, I do have a few questions for the makers.

  • The girl from Vampire Diaries must have been really broke to have accepted a four-second role in this movie. Could they not have given her a bigger part just to help get her back on her feet?


  • Was it really necessary for Slacker co-worker to make it to the credits?


  • What actually happens when you put a cat in a dryer? I know it died but I would’ve liked to get a clearer picture of how exactly.


  • This is a remake of Single White Female right down to the dye job. Wouldn’t it have been better to make it a credited remake rather than trying to pass this off as an original idea?

Still, all in all, it was fun. Any movie that puts you in a place where you’re terrified and laughing at the same time is A-okay in my books!

While last Sunday was fairly uneventful, I did have some pretty entertaining conversations – some had me ROFLMAO-ing (whatever that is) and some just got me plain worried about the kind of people I hang out with.




My friend was telling us about his time on the school magazine. He was in charge of content collection. The school captain had asked that he find something good and put his name to it. I wondered how he got away with it but apparently the Principal did the same thing – go figure.

To this day, no one is sure how it happened or who was responsible but this was the story that was published with his name on it ( from memory, so it might be slightly off but you’ll get the gist ). Note that the school Captain was about 16 years old at the time.

A Day at the Zoo

Today my friends and I went to the zoo. There were cheetahs and leopards and tigers there. We also saw monkeys in cages and tried to feed them bananas which they threw back at us. We visited the hippopotamus pond. The hippo’s mouths were very big. Finally, we arrived at the cage of the King of the Jungle himself – the Lion. As we approached the cage, we noticed that it was unlocked. The lion sprang from the cage. We ran and ran until we got away – far far away from the zoo.


The poor chap! He was so upset he tried to resign from his post. As I heard this story, I could just imagine his worst enemy sitting across from his friends somewhere telling the same story. 


I’m not sure how this came up (something about cannibalism and a monkey – you don’t want to know) but I was telling my friends about a picture I saw in the newspaper of a 3 month-old foetus that had been thrown from a car into the street.

Me: And they had broken its arms and legs – which were barely even formed.

Weird Friend: Oh it was an aborted foetus?

Other Friend: No the mother was still around it.

Me: What do you mean? What other kind of foetus do you know?

Weird Friend: Uh umm uhh

Me: Seriously. What were you talking about?

Weird Friend: Umm I..it could’ve been from a miscarriage.

Because that would’ve totally made a difference, yes!


There was a time in my life when I was pretty sure that barring humans I would probably eat anything that moved. The other day at work some colleagues and I were swapping stories about the strange things we’d eaten. Words like tiger (yes!), beetles, leopard and rabbit were uttered. Today while having a similar conversation with a friend, I told him that having heard the kinds of things that people actually eat, I would now decide what to eat based on how cute the animal was and how many of them there were. Tiger, peacock and rabbits – not on the list! To this he very said, very seriously might I add, “If I find an animal tasty I am always more endeared to them in the wild.”


I need to know, does anyone else think this is creepy or is it just me?

 All through the rest of the conversation I kept thinking of him skipping through the forest walking up to deer, saying things like, “Are you Jamaican? Because Ja-maican me crazy!“

I’m not sure any of this is funny anymore- maybe you had to be there.

%d bloggers like this: