When in block – bullshit.

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I realize routine does odd things to you.

It can bore you, inspire you and then bore you again – so that you end up doing nothing but bitching about the boring routine.

So while I was doing ‘fruitography‘ (I’m insane, B knows that, and after at least fifty ‘click click’ noises, he turned around completely baffled to see that his wife has washed and dried the cherries and is taking pictures of them, sometimes even one cherry at a time), I realized I’m a complete loser when it comes to blogging and I have literally nothing that I can blog about. And what’s worse, I can’t think of anything remotely interesting either.

Which is worse.

And now I’ve come up with a rule that is borne out of the undeniable ingenuity of a blogger with nothing worth writing …

… when in blogger’s block, bullshit about everything.

Take up random fruits and vegetables, start clicking. Pick up completely un-related subjects and talk about them.

If that doesn’t get you enough humiliation to get off your lazy ass and start thinking seriously about writing something worth your salt, nothing will.

So here I go.

Politics. It keeps going round and round in circles. Even if Obama is the first African-American president of the US, Zardari’s ours and I don’t know who I can blame for that. Benazir’s security detail or the people of Pakistan stupid enough to not knock him off his undeserved glory.

But then again. We get over stuff soon. Or maybe it’s just me.

Sports? We won the T20, Federer’s made it to semi-finals (not that I get tennis much) and I realize I’ll never like football. I don’t care how many millions they paid Ronaldo to come to Real Madrid. (80 million pounds if you’re curious – that’s more than what most people can dream of in nights of extreme indigestion.)

Family and friends? All of my best friends are in different cities, countries and timezones. One’s in some town in Canada, the other’s in Lahore, the other’s in Karachi and by the time I try to get them online, it’s 12 a.m. here in Sana’a.

Food? Atkins was started and dropped (giving up carbs is NOT easy), we found a bucket of Baskin Robbins Mango Tango and decided dieting is overrated. And B calls food a ‘celebration of life’ – and cannot give up his addiction to Pepsi.

The weather? The insanely beautiful weather here in Sana’a is extremely confusing for Karachiites. We’re used to hot, humid, sweaty and completely unpredictable. You put us in a place where it’s sweetly crisp, rains beautiful rains every week or so and you don’t need a fan to keep you fresh, the wind is enough – and we start to get insecure about ourselves.

Music? Still stuck on Aik Alif and Paimona Bitte (thanks, Ambreen!) – and while I’m at it … still can’t believe Atif Aslam pulled off something halfway decent in Coke Studio. One of the many many reasons I cannot stand Mr. Aslam, apart from his slightly stoned, drooling-at-the-mouth attitude, is that he cannot sing. Sure, we have that thing going these days for all the nasal ‘aaaa’ ‘ooo’ ‘eeee’s that are coming our way disguised in dhum dhum beats – but Atif Aslam is a bit much. That’s why Jalpari surprised me and while it made me wonder what Gauher Mumtaz must think every time Atif uses the word ‘Jal’, I can’t help but list Jalpari as one of Atif’s best. Which is a short, almost non-existent list.

Movies? Angels and Demons. I just have a few questions. I don’t know why the much-coveted anti-matter, which is so powerful that it is often called the GOD particle, has the battery life lower than a Nokia cell phone? It’ll die within 24 hours and the God particle will annihilate the Vatican.

Should’ve given that contract to the Chinese instead of the Germans.

 Then there was this extreme protocol and attention given to a symbologist. People, he’s a nerd no one at lunch with in college. And the life of the next possible Pope depends on him? Well. That’s good news for all the people who eat alone and live dependent lives. Someday, you’ll get into a highly secure library and read stuff no one can and save the world. Oh and it’s totally okay if you’re faithless. The Pope’s okay with that. He just wants you to go easy on them when you write your next book.

Who eats this? Seriously? I’m asking all Dan Brown fans. I am still waiting for the day they’ll make a movie out of The Blind Assassin. That’s the day I stop cribbing about Robert Langdon.

Then Wolverine. Definitely not as bad as Angels and Demons. Though not as good as the initial X-men movies. It’s hard to beat the classics but you can’t blame a guy for trying.

Gossip Girl … (spoiler alert) … For those of you who were rooting for Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf, the season finale was for you. I still can’t understand what the hell is up Nate Archibald’s ass. Or what isn’t. Why can’t he just decide once and for all whether he’s going to be the bohemian bachelor living a cool life with Vanessa (who’s the hottest chick in the series, hands down) or follow the Vanderbilts to the City Hall and become the next governor of the state. And can Rufus cut Lily some slack? Enough is enough. I’m tired of seeing them run and forth from each other. If they don’t get married in the next season, that’s it. They’re outta my interest cycle (they’ll be crushed I’m sure).

The only perks remain how Bass is going to screw Blair again (metaphorically of course) and stay true to his inherent ‘motherchucker’ness and how Georgina Sparks is back with a bitchin’ bang. I cannot tolerate her sweet-smelling-God-filled-soul. She makes me want to smack her with a video of Kevin Smith’s “Dogma” when she’s all ‘Jesus Take the Wheel’.

And last but not in any way the least. The West Wing.

If Americans could elect a man like Josiah Bartlett, they’d still be pro-Israel but they wouldn’t be as ‘misunderstood’ as they are now in the world. And though it is impossible to have a Nobel Laureate nominated and elected as the President of the most powerful country in the world (Hollywood actors, sure), it’d still be worth it for Americans if they could pursue the great American dream along those lines. The character “Josiah Bartlett” played by Martin Sheen is probably one of the most admirable fictional characters I have ever seen or read.

My top favorites in the entire series are C. J. Cregg, Jed Bartlett and Josh Lyman. B loves Lord John Marbury for his acumen and completely befitting analysis of the Indo-Pak conflict in the series.

Television. This good? It’s not easy and it doesn’t happen everyday. Aaron Sorkin must and must be lauded for this show and I can only sympathize with the fans of Studio Sixty on Sunset Strip that deserved to be renewed but didn’t because it was ‘too intelligent’ for American audiences.

Shows like Boston Legal, West Wing, Studio Sixty, House MD and 30 Rock break milestones. And they try to do it without eye candy.

Boston Legal was about two fat lawyers, one with Alzheimers and the other with an indecent foot fetish, nearing the end of their careers. It’s filled with social and political issues that are extremely deep and poignant.

West Wing is filled with American politics that no one really gives about. The living example of Sarah Palin being chosen as a running mate tells you that American politics can turn into a strange joke instead of the serious business the Founding Fathers wanted it to be.

House isn’t just about Hadley being a bisexual, believe it or not. The character is complex and touches, almost in each episode, on philosophical questions that get you thinking. It’s extremely well-made, not to mention hilarious when it comes to House’s bedside manner. The series isn’t about a bunch of ridiculously goodlooking people sleeping around with each other. It’s about a conflicted guy who’s got a profession crazy enough to keep him on his toes.

30 Rock is intelligent as well – and wouldn’t you know it – it has just picked up ratings. The initial year didn’t go so well for it and was almost about to go dead until it won those Emmys.

And that’s when I wonder if I’d ever watch Grey’s Anatomy if it weren’t for Katherine Heigl’s natural charm or Meredith Grey’s darkness. It’s just crazy how they all kept playing tennis with each other’s love lives. Same goes for Gossip Girl. If Nate Archibald and Rufus Humphrey don’t decide this time for sure, they’re getting knocked off my favorites’ list. Which, I am quite sure, bring them down with the bang that’ll destroy their lives.

And there you have it.

I’m outta bullshit. And ready to understand it’s time to blog about something slightly more meaningful than eye candy.

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