the basket case diaries

In case you have yet to glean this from previous posts on the subject of Mama Ho and Papa O, Persian parents don't play. There is no such thing as sparing your feelings, or putting anything lightly. Brutal honesty is always the name of the game.

Bring home 4 A's and 1 B, and you will be asked point blank if you are trying to be mediocre, which will be accompanied by heads shaking and lips pursing and deep sighs and predictions of doom for your already bleak looking future.

No subject or topic is off limits.

If you gain a few lbs., aint nobody whispering about it behind your back. In fact, the moment you are seen after a long absence, there is no secret made about that fact that you are being thoroughly examined (you might even be asked to twirl) so that the parents can properly assess how fat you have gotten whilst not under their dietary supervision.

Me: Hi Mama! I'm home!

Mama Ho: Hi! You're not as skeeeny as you verr before you left, but you not as fat as I tawt you vould be.

Me: Um, thanks?

I have gotten used to this from the fam. In fact, it has served me well in some ways. It's given me a thick skin while making me ultra sensitive to the feelings of others. Plus, I know my mother is slightly duranged as she told my size ZERO sister that she might want to buy some control top pantyhose to suck in her nonexistant gut...so most of her size comments go in one ear and out the other.

But today, I decided to pipe up and say something as we were both looking in the mirror and she again made a comment about how I really needed to work out. (I've been doing Pilates DAMNIT.)

Me: You know, mom. I realize I could look better. Everybody has room for improvement, but I honestly don't think I'm as huge as you're making me out to be.

Mama Ho: No?

Me: No. I mean you make me feel like I'm mad fat. I start to feel confused and wonder if I should actually believe you, and then I look in the mirror and realize I look pretty good, and that I'm actually not a whale.

Mama Ho: I never said whale. No, no. Not whale. More like...elephant.

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT???

That happened.

Christmas isn't the only time to be thankful for white parents.

I saw previews for this movie and noticed that it is actually a book (movies are all from books) so I decided I would read it first.

So I went to the library and checked it out. I started the book yesterday and finished it before bed.

I'm not even going to tell you what it was about, except for that it's about the Holocaust, and I have read maybe THOUSANDS of Holocaust books and this one just about put me over the edge.

I URGE YOU ALLL! DO NOT READ THIS BOOK BEFORE THE NEW YEAR UNLESS YOU WANT TO KILL YOURSELF!

hey kiddos. those of you who know me well, know that i'm a photo hobbyist with a few online published photos, etc. anyhoo--i'm trying to get published by jpg magazine (i'd get $100!) so go vote for my photo and pass it on.
:)

i surely do appreciate it.

Where we were led down the wrong path....

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas just like the ones I used to know?

Well all 2 people who read our blog, I have come to the conclusion that this is a white holiday. I mean it's not as if we Hormozis get along on regular days but there is something about the holidays that makes us extra cranky. Ahh yes. What an amazing time of year.

Christmas. A holiday definitely created for the white man, and meant to be celebrated by families that really do love each other.

Let me describe a Christmas at the Hormozis to you ...

My sister has been running around taking pictures of Dallas like she is a first time tourist, making people wait to eat or walk into stores so that she can take a picture. Apparently this is a new found habit picked up from her S.O.

My parents seem to be no better, every minute arguing about things that don't even make sense.

Papa O: "Nasrin, do you tink I need haircut?"

MaMa HO: "I JUST GAVE YOU DE HAIRCUT TREE DAYZ AGO! VHAT YOU TALKING ABOUT?!"

Oliver: "VHY YOU ALWAYS TALK ABOUT DE PAST NASRIN! DEM!"

In the meantime I have been coping with the fact that apparently I have the worst taste in men, and it's been three years since it's been out, and I still have yet to see a Wii under the tree.

Wait. What tree?

Even as I sit here writing this blog, my sister keeps trying to explain to my parents (who think that Christmas es boring) that usually families play games and laugh and joke with each other, make dinners and pretty much do everything we absolutely do not. I get the sneaking suspicion that she wishes our family was white during any holiday because I know that I do.

Did I mention that my dad weaseled out of Christmas day? And when asked why he would not be attending, he simply responded with a "vhy you always vanting to know my bizness? Dem!" Hmm...shady...

Oooh Crackas, this may be the only time of year I envy you.

Does anyone know a 7 letter word for verbatim?? For the love of God!

It's amazing the treasures one can find strolling through a mall.

Judging by this mannequin's stance, she also had this for dinner:

Whilst meandering through Mama HO's lingerie boutique, I happened upon a most curious discovery. Looks like our mans #1 Chief Naka has used blogging as a launching pad to foray into the world of intimate apparel. We, at the BCDs, applaud you sir.

Looks like someone dodged a bullet. Literally. Please see fifth pic down in the right hand column. Naz sure knows how to pick 'em!

*Be sure to click the title for more fun facts!

So maybe it's 29 degrees here today, and maybe I won't get to a wear a single one of all those tanks and dresses I packed in anticipation of the 70 degree weather Dallas was having up to the day before my arrival, and maybe I didn't see my pops until 12 hours after I got home, but at least I had this for lunch:

Weeks of waiting, anticipating, and enduring anxiety over being airborne have finally culminated in day ONE of my return to Texas. After fielding 25 phone calls a day from various members of my family telling me how excited they were to see me, how much Persian food they were cooking me, and how every minute of my trip was going to be action packed. What I really came home to was this:


Oh, not so bad, you say? I got some down home fried chicken like I've been craving for weeks and weeks now. DON'T BE FOOLED! Cuz it's really THIS:


AND to make matters even worse, my stupid dog doesn't even know who I am anymore!


I have now realized that that the only way that I am not going to suffer even more heartbreak on this trip is to focus entirely on food. So, from now on, every blog entry during my stay in this place is going to be all about my meals, since my family is already making me examine their finances and run their errands. HATERRRRRRRS!! Hurry up P, Nicole, Pinto! I NEED YOU PEOPLE!

I feel like a terd right now, and when I feel this way I often watch old cartoons that remind me of a simpler time. I hope you enjoy this clip from a classic cartoon that Sayeh and I used to watch on the reg. The Chipmunk Adventure:

In reference to an exclusionary female I met on a recent occasion who had the audacity to repetitively use the words "us" and "we" in reference to MY man right in front of me, the great Amira Sedki, while posing the elusive question of who this girl thought she was, also made the astute observation that: "Homegirl was oui-ing it up like she was French!"

Luckily for Yelle, she actually is French, and I won't have to kick her ass next time I see her. Appropriately, the song is about games (jeux) that people be playing. And no, this is not Natalie Portman. Enjoy!

As most of you know, I'm from Dallas. Not born, but almost entirely raised, and as such am a Cowboys fan. This little geo-biographical fact is the reason for much strife for me here in Philadelphia, both in my personal relationships with people that call themselves my friends, and from random patrons in bars that learn this dirty little secret from my own big mouth.

Cowboys fans are hard to come by in this city, and people that don't loathe the Cowboys are even more scarce. Thus, I was beginning to give up hope about finding a kindred spirit in this town until I came to work and the most glorious thing happened.

I met Mitch.

Mitch is a great dude of society. He is my one saving grace at the office come Monday mornings, and because of that I will never forget the day I met him. I was in the ladies room at work...doing what ladies do in them rooms, when I heard an egregious pounding on the door. I thought perhaps I was mistaken and was hearing some construction from a nearby area, when I heard it again, only louder. Was it the damn PO-lice? Was there a raid in progress at the National Constitution Center? As I hurriedly tried to buckle and fasten my whatnots, I wondered if my fantasy of being arrested for being so damn fine was about to come true should I let this relentless knocker in. I bumbled out of the stall, made my way to the door, and as I reached my hand out for the knob, there was one more stall shaking knock, this time accompanied by a loud, booming, "MAINTENANCE!!!".

Damn! I thought to myself. All that fuss for the man that wants to come and check for toilet paper? I rushed, missed my zipper, and 'bout had a heart attack over maintenace? I flung open the door, fixin to give this man a piece of mind, and tell him that I was trying to pee for God's sake when I saw him, and stopped dead in my tracks.

He stood there, framed in the light of the door. I put my arm up to shield my eyes from what seemed to be an almost blinding angelic aura emanating from his very presence. I blinked my pupils back to stable, slowly lowered my hand, and with narrow eyes began to squint my way into deciphering a symbol floating in the air above his head. What is that? I noticed that I was stepping closer to him, reaching out towards him in an effort to figure out what it was, when I saw it. It was beautiful. A lone blue star, outlined in white finally broke through the haze and I vaguely heard the sound of trumpets in the air around me.

There he was--this Herculean black man standing there in all his dark chocolate goodness, with hand resting dutifully on maintenance cart, waiting for me to open the door, wearing a Dallas Cowboys hat. I was in awe.

I don't know how long I had been standing there, mouth agape, hairs standing on end when he finally spoke. "Sugar, you done in there? Anyone else comin' out behind you?"

"You're a Cowboys fan?" I stammered, completely ignoring his question.

He answered yes, but looked at me like I was an asshole as if to say, What the hell do you think, I'm wearing this hat because I enjoy relentless ridicule?

"I'm from Dallas!" I blurted out, supressing my urge to embrace him wholeheartedly.

Relieved that I was actually interested in his sports paraphanelia and not just setting myself up to hurl an insult at him, he relaxed. "You are??" he asked, with lonestars in his eyes.

I assumed, of course he must be too. I had heard myths and urban legends about the Philly native turned Cowboy fan, but had never actually met one and had definitely come to the conclusion that they were about as real as unicorns or the Loch Ness Montster, so naturally asked him where he was from.

"I'm from Philly, sugar. Born and raised. And yes, I love the Cowboys."

I swallowed hard to quell the lump in my throat, stuck out my hand and said, "I'm Sayeh."

"Sayeh," he said, "I'm Mitch, and I'm pleased to make your aquaintance."

What a momentous and fortuitous meeting! Now, after a great game, Mitch and I pass each other in the halls, and tipping his hat in my direction, flashing me his million dollar smile, and sometimes darting his tongue through the gap left by a missing tooth, he says in a throaty crescendo, "How bout them Cowboys!", and I'll skip over with glee in my heart to discuss.

Nothing makes me feel more warm inside than when I go to the cafe in the center to buy my daily cup of tea or occasional oatmeal, and shuffling through my bottomless pit of a purse to find some cash am told not to worry because I don't owe a thing. The nice lady at the register points behind me, and there's Mitch, tipping his hat, smiling his toothless smile and waving as he walks off into the museum lights.

Now, I have a reprieve from all of the bashing I am subjected to out there in the world. I know I can come to work, and on the days I see my fellow Cowboys fan, bash the Eagles without the imminent threat of a break-up. I can defend the indefensible, Terrell Owens, and for a few short moments, feel like I'm in DTX, about to walk outside, get in my car, and drive down 75.

Thanks, Mitch. You're the man now, dog!

I'm sure many of you are anticipating the new release of the movie The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button. In it, Benjamin grows younger instead of growing older...

What an amazing concept! Unfortunately for me, my birthday is tomorrow and no such thing is happening. I will be turning the ripe old age of 23! AHHHHHHHH! Now no offense to all you oldy but goodies out there, but I have found myself panicking about this upcoming birthday.

Remember when you were in elementary school and you were playing with friends on the playground and someone mentions how they know someone in their family who is 20 years old and you think OMG THAT IS SO OLD! 20!?!?!?!!!!!! Well people not only will I NOT be turning 20, but I will be turning 23! EGHK! Shame.

In light of this situation I decided to make a pro and con list of turning a year older:

Pros and Cons of turning 23:

Pros:

1.)I can finally get into the club..no wait that was 21

2.) I am still younger than Lil Sayne

3.) ........

4.) ........

5.) ........

Cons:

1.) My parents still won't treat me like I am over the age of 12. (For some reason in their mind I just never grew past that age, and continue to treat me accordingly.)

2.) The older guys I was so used to dating in my youth will begin to date girls between the ages of 18-21 (now I understand your frustration Lil Sayne)

3.) I look and feel older

4.) Wrinkles have begun to form and I have seriously considered BOTOX

5.) I am still living at home and my dog still hates me

6.) My many talents such as playing the piano, reading writing and arithmetic are fading (who am I kidding I never even had those talents)

7.) I am feeling more joint pain than ever from carrying my book bag..not so young and agile as I used to be

8.) A person asked me the other day how old I was turning and I said 30, and they said oh wow that's cool. ( DO I FUCKING LOOK THIRTY!?)

9.) BALLS BALLS BALLS (just felt right to say)

10.) I am losing my memory

SO people you can see where my apprehensions of turning 23 are coming from. This fear actually runs in our family. For instance,I still don't know my fathers real age because he insists he is still 22. Fortunately for him he actually DOES look 22 WTF.

Life is a crazy thing...like a wise man once said:

"One day ya here baaby and den you goooooowwoowoooooone"

Take it from UGK they definitely feel what i'm saying.

Please note, that prior to reading my post, it will beneficial to venture over to www.thedalembertreport.com to read the most recent post. For the sake of context...

In honor of the comment section of the "Honeymoon Phase", I dedicate this song to Flintskins and all the rest of you and your booing of the word boo, and of course to my boo himself. Also, please do not be fooled by the uptempo first twenty seconds of this video and all the random womens...our boy comes home and sings to his boo like he's 'posed to.

I have recently been thinking about this period in the beginning of a relationship when everything is picture perfect. There is little to no fighting, lots of PDA, and many conversations that sound a lot like this :

Guy: “Hey babe I miss you”
Girl: “I miss you more boo”
Guy: “No I miss YOU more!”
Girl: “I can’t wait to see you!”
Guy: “Me either! I’ll see you tonight”

In addition to these many conversations there is courting, where the guy is supposed to take the girl out and show her a good time. Take her to dinners, go to museums, think of creative things like go to jazz clubs or even hit up a Keith Sweat concert. UNFORTUNATELY FOR THE LADIES this just doesn’t happen much anymore.

Yup I am lumping all guys into one category! Guys are lazy as fuck! YA I SAID IT, I SAID IT! They are lazy as fuck, not only lazy but unapologetic

Well I’m sorry but I’m just not going to stand for it! It is not acceptable to skip the dates and go straight to their den. I mean come on BOYS I should say, (more appropriate) it is not going to kill you to step up your game and show a little appreciation and love. I don’t mean appreciation like if you and your L.I. are in bed and you say “babe will you get me a glass of water” and he sighs and says yes and feels like it’s a big deal because the water is allll the way in the kitchen. (LAZY)

Moreover, if as a girl you have to ask your man to take you out, then the meaning is gone! I think one of my favorite quotes of all time sums it up best “I WANT YOU TO WANT TO DO THE DISHES!” –The Breakup. Please let me say that if you are a guy and do not understand this quote, you are probably single, and or having serious problems in your relationship/marriage.

What’s funny is the fact that if you start to request dates it is construed as NAGGING! Well I am sorry but girls wouldn’t nag if you just fucking paid attention and followed through. So because we girls don’t want to nag we are forced to stay in watching some lame reality show having takeout so that we don’t seem annoying. We begin Letting go of our wants to fulfill his.

Then to make matters worse a silent war ensues due to the no-action policy of the boys. Of course the girl is internally furious every time she suggests an evening out on the town, and the boy says “boo I’m sorry I’m just really tired.” Then the women start being short with the boys and then they ask “You ok babe?”After this is when the women promptly respond with a “Yeah. Everything is fine” when they know damn well it isn’t.

Now I know what you are thinking..wow that is one jaded and bitter girl. This may be right BUT there is truth in all that I am saying. AND YOU KNOW IT! You boys can deny, deny, deny all you want, and you ladies can say that your relationship is different and perfect, but if there are cracks that are being ignored in the beginning then there will surely be a break in the end.

...and don't think I won't. It's official! I am getting the NBA League Pass so that I can assess this situation for myself. Reading stats and articles and hearing about the Mavs from stupid sports analysts is giving me high blood pressure.

According to this piece of garbage, the Mavs aren't gonna make the playoffs?? Oh hell-to-the-no! We recently gave the no. 1 seed Lakers a run for their money in an exceedingly frustrating fourth quarter choke after leading by as much as 12 points for the majority of the game. And even though we lost, we looked damn good...and were holding our own. No shot at the playoffs??

I'll kill you.

The Mavs play the Suns tonight, a squad that has often seemed to mirror the issues and the struggles of Dallas in the past--"so close but so far away" syndrome as I like to call it. I have no doubt that tonight's matchup will not only prove entertaining, as Suns and Mavs games always do, but will end in a win that will continue to fuel the momentum the Mavs have had recently, and prove these assholes wrong.

Duh duh duh duh duh duhhhhhhhhhhhhh! CHARGE!

Chock it up to cultural differences or the whole venus/mars debate but this is the advice I received from my parents upon packing up the car and getting ready to leave their house after three gluttonous days during thanksgiving break.

mom:
(while trying to close my car trunk and get in the car)
you have everything? did you check under all the beds and the bathrooms? did you? you have cell phone chargers, wallet, driver's license, money - why don't you EVER carry cash - music thinigies (ipods), all your shoes? you have everything?? now remember, don't speed. it's a holiday, so there will be lots of cops. you don't want to get a ticket do you? because your insurance will go up and you already have a pretty nice deal. remember, go the speed limit. and lock your doors! i hear it's going to get cold and where you live is always colder so be sure to bring your plants in from the porch. also, make sure to take everything out of your car when you get home -- immediately! you don't want to leave anything in the car because people will break in and steal all your stuff. you don't want them to steal your stuff do you? and the food! take the food out immediately or it will spoil...all that food! if you aren't going to eat it right away be sure to freeze it, but then you'll have to defrost it so be sure to put it in the fridge when you are ready to eat it. now call us when you get back so we know your safe. remember, don't speed! there will be lots of cops. now drive safe! ok love you! had a good time. we'll see you at christmas............................you sure you got all your stuff????

dad:
(after saying goodbye and reminding him that i borrowed his jimi hendrix biography cd -- sidenote: my dad is a musician and LOVES him some jimi hendrix).
what what? you got my dvd?? the jimi hendrix? oh my god. this is a return one ok? you can't keep. it's chingon (fucking good), ok? iiiiyaya! (sort of jumping up and down, grinning widely while shaking his hand to signify something !hot!). chingon, eh. ok, love you honey. i suggest you get home and immediately watch this movie first, ok? don't even unpack.




love my mom and dad.