The Family That Almost Got Me Killed

Most of my memories of childhood are marred with one trauma or the other, but this one sticks out the most.

I was only 6 years old, and my dad had made a new friend at work. His friend had a daughter who was my age, and as overly enthusiastic parents tend to do, both the dads forced us to meet and become acquainted. For the sake of this story, I'll call the daughter... 'Evil Kid'.

Now, my memories of us first meeting are pretty fuzzy - but I know that my parents planned a playdate at our house. My mom took painstaking measures to ensure we had a fun time, which involved a 'pool party' in our tub - complete with swimming costumes, bubble bath, and toys. And parental supervision, of course.

Out of the societal pressures of reciprocation, I was invited to spend the day at the daughter's house. 

Now, going to Evil Kid's house would have been fine, had that kid and her mom not been... BATSHIT INSANE.

I knew something was wrong the second I entered the house. The smiley demeanor of Evil Kid's mother, which was present whenever I encountered her previously, had suddenly disappeared. With an abruptness, she handed me a towel and said (almost in a scolding manner) "go take a shower if you want". 

A shower? I was so confused.

It dawned on me many years later that a 'shower' was Evil Kid's Mom's answer to the 'Pool Party' me and her daughter had at my place. As if those two were remotely similar??? And the fact that she expected me to 'shower' on my own for entertainment - with no swimsuit or toys, or even her own daughter involved - was super sketchy.

I politely refused, and I was ushered into playing some random games with Evil Kid. All seemed to be going well, until Evil Kid's Mom proposed that we go to the balcony to look at the birds. 

Birds? That sounded fun! As I entered the balcony, Evil Kid's Mom pushed me ahead and slammed the door shut behind me. My stomach turned as I heard the click of the lock. Why did she lock me out in her balcony? A part of me thought it might be a game - my 6-year-old brain was scrambling to find a reason for this woman's actions. Perhaps they were planning a surprise for me inside, and this was a method to keep me out of the way for a few minutes? 

I looked around the balcony to find the birds. Perhaps they would be cute and colorful, and kept in cages? But there was nothing. 

Nothing, until I looked up.

Horror dawned upon me as I saw crows circling the balcony. Crows that seemed to be coming closer and closer, swooping lower and lower each time. And all of a sudden, before I could even blink, one of  them made a beeline for me and pecked me hard on my head.

I shrieked and immediately tried to open the door. It was locked. I screamed as a second crow swooped down to peck me. (Writing this down sends shivers through my body, as I can clearly recall the pain of the hard pecks on my head.) This situation was something I couldn't have even had nightmares about - it was beyond my comprehension. After what seemed like an eternity with the attacking crows, the door swung open and Evil Kid and her mother stood cackling. The sinister gleam in the mother's eyes was something I will never forget.

"Did you have fun?" She asked.

I think my brain did me a favor by blocking out what happened within those moments after I ran inside the house for shelter. All I remember is, after that entire ordeal, Evil Kid's Dad was on the scene and excitedly offered to take us kids to the park. Getting out of that house was a relief, to say the least.

But little did I know, my day of terror was not over.

Now, you must be wondering - why on earth is the kid in this story being referred to as Evil, when so far, the mother has been the primary villain of my story?

It's because of what happened next.

As a child, I had never been left in a park to play - even with friends or cousins - without there being a responsible adult involved. However, Evil Kid's parents wasted no time in dropping us to a remote park after sunset and scrambling away for some "alone time". Being only 6 years old, I wasn't as skeeved out as I should have been, especially since I immediately got distracted by the rides in front of me.

If my memory serves me well, there was a merry-go-round, a sandbox, a see-saw, and those weird animals on springs that you need to hold on to for dear life so that you don't get catapulted into the stratosphere. But the one that caught my eye (and unfortunately, Evil Kid's eye too)... was The Slide.

The Slide was a magnanimous structure smack dab in the middle of the park. To me, it looked as tall as a small building (in reality, it was probably only 7 feet tall, max). Instead of having a ladder or stairs to get to the top however, this slide had a weird grill-and-monkey-bar structure which one had to navigate it order to reach the top.

Evil Kid suggested we have a race. I naively agreed.

I climbed, and climbed, and climbed with all my might. Being somewhat of a pudgy child, I never really saw being an American Ninja Warrior in my destiny - but that is exactly what I became in order to reach the top. And despite Evil Kid's claims of being the fastest one around, I beat her. I was about to turn around and gloat, when I felt a small hand on my back....

And a push.

When the push happened, I instinctively closed my eyes. The drop simultaneously felt years long and milliseconds short. 

I hit the ground. There was a CCRRRAAACKKKKK. Then silence. 

Then... pain shot up my entire right side.

I screamed.

It felt like I was screaming, sobbing, and whimpering in pain forever before help (if you can call it that) arrived in the form of Evil Kid's dad. I remember him crouching over me and asking me what was wrong, and all I could say in between sobs was that it hurt.

He picked me up in this arms and rushed me to the car, where Evil Kid's mom was sitting in suspicion. Most of my memory of this part is pretty fuzzy, but one thing stands out clearly - the mom asked me if I wanted... a Happy Meal.

Uh, NO THANKS?>>>???

I told her I wanted to go home. The ride home felt years long - but finally we arrived at my place, and I remember sitting in the back seat of the car in the dark while Evil Kid's parents rushed out to try and get their side of the story out to my parents before I could. 

It didn't make a difference though, because my parents didn't want to hear any of their nonsense - they came rushing straight to me, precariously removed me from the back seat - every single movement causing excruciating pain to jolt up my entire arm and torso - and asked me what happened.

I wasted no time in exposing Evil Kid for pushing me off the slide (yes, off the side of the slide, not down it, much to Evil Kid's parents' dismay) and my parents were LIVID.

Everything after that happened in a blur - I was rushed to the hospital, where the doctor informed my parents that I had broken my collarbone in three places.

The recovery took 3 months.

While writing this post, I corroborated a lot of information from my mom. She shared many other details that I wasn't previously aware of, which really showcased how warped that Evil Family was, such as: 

• Evil Kid's mother was distraught that her husband would 'lose his job' over this (because my dad and him were colleagues) - that's all she cried to my mom about when I was in hospital
• Evil Kid denied pushing me, and said I 'fell by myself'
• Evil Kid's mother kept bringing up how she offered me a Happy Meal, as if that were to make up for her horrendous babysitting skills
• The reason why I had felt like the ride home from the park took ages was because Evil Kid's parents were purposely stalling while trying to figure out what to say to my parents before facing them

It's safe to say that I never saw Evil Kid or her parents ever again.

So much has happened these past 2 years

I got married.

 

 

... And celebrated my first anniversary.

 

I moved cities.

I got promoted.

 

I experienced snowfall for the first time. 

I started my Masters.

I started therapy.

 

I started getting back into reading.

 

I got a new piercing. 

 

 

I got two more cats... and a dog. 

 

Life's been good.

100 Days of Staying At Home (and losing my sanity)

disclaimer:

(Due to my laziness, this post was not complete on my 100th day inside. My 100th day was actually June 29th, 2020. Let's just pretend it is that date, so I don't have to live with the guilt of living in a fake timeline. Thanks.

Hi.

*deep breath*

I'M GOING INSANE.

I have been at home for exactly 100 days due to the coronavirus. The COVID-19. The PANDEMIC. That's right. ONE HUNDRED DAYS. I've been through it all. Quarantine, self-isolation, shelter-in-place, a total nation-wide lockdown... EVERYTHING.

This means I have actually, physically, not stepped out of my house for ONE HUNDRED DAYS.

I think, in my entire life, this must have been the longest period of time where I have had to be at home (counting both voluntarily/involuntarily instances). I don't even think me being a premature baby stopped my parents from taking me out in the early days of my life. Or when I got typhoid as a toddler. Or when I broke my collarbone falling from a slide in a playground at age 6.

completely unrelated image. don't worry.

No matter what happened, I don't think I can recall a time when I've had to stay home for such an extensive period.

It's not even like I'm an extrovert that loves interacting with people who has suddenly got their entire life's purpose snatched away from them. I have always been happy to stay home most weekends, and keep my interactions to people IRL to a minimum. However, that was my choice. Once the choice to go out and meet people was taken away, staying at home stopped being fun.

It didn't happen all of a sudden. For the first month at least, I was pretty much all right. I found things to do, like reorganize the entire store room and whip up an ungodly amount of Dalgona Coffees.

I was (and still am) lucky enough to retain my job, and just switch over to working from home. This played a huge part in maintaining a semblance of purpose and routine throughout this entire time at home. Otherwise, I think my mental state would have devolved even further than it has currently.

So. With all this free time, and not being able to utilize it to have healthy interactions (not to mention just getting some fresh air beyond what I can have from sticking my head out a window), there are loads of things I have been doing at home to pass time.

1. Watching Shows

I was never really a big TV show watcher, so it's been kind of nice to immerse myself into stuff that I normally would not have had the time to experience had it not been for this pandemic. I have come to realize that I prefer shows over movies, for the sole reason of the investment in someone else's life for a change - and for an extended period of time - without having to worry about it ending too soon (LOL, that sounds so sad).

Anyway. Since I paid for PicCollage so that the terrible watermark would go away, I am now going to inundate you, the reader, with a collage of every show I have watched within these 100 days so far.

I know that watching eleven shows (with all their seasons) within a hundred days is probably nothing of note for some people (for example, my fiance blitzed through 400 episodes of Diriliş: Ertuğrul while also watching each and every one of the shows I watched PLUS lord knows how many more, all while holding a full time job and getting 8 hours of sleep - don't ask me how), but for me, this was a massive feat. I mean, back when I first got Netflix, I had literally spent one whole year of my life on Gilmore Girls and nothing else, so I've definitely stepped up my game.

I organized the collage as much as I could to depict the genres I was/am most interested in: Thriller/Suspense/Horror/Dystopia/Mystery, Comedy (with some good old representation) and Absolute Trash Reality TV. On a serious note, watching people being sexually charged imbeciles is a perfect palate cleanser in between shows with heavy themes or intense storylines.

2. Reading Books

Now, with the access to Netflix being available on every device I own, I haven't read nearly enough books during my time at home. Reading is something I have struggled with in my twenties, despite being an avid and insatiable reader throughout my childhood and teenage years. Being a huge Stephen King fan, I continued to purchase all his books as they released, but never really got around to reading anything of his (or of anyone else's, for that matter) since the past few years. So, I have a pile of untouched books that were waiting to be cracked open.

I did read one of these, which is The Outsider. I truly enjoyed it and it sparked my love for Stephen King again. I'm planning on reading the whole pile of these within this year. If you have any suggestions for what I should read next (from the above picture), let me know.

3. Creating edible things

I'VE BEEN COOKING/BAKING AS WELL. (I don't know why I decided to write that in all caps. Fake excitement to mask my disdain for suffering the heat of the stove whilst fasting for 33% of lockdown, perhaps?) Apart from the regular Iftar prep, I managed to make/bake a few things I'm proud of. Here's another PicCollage (seriously, I'm trying to get my money's worth of posting as many non-watermarked collages as possible at this point):

For anyone interested, the pics are of a typical Iftar, dynamite prawns, jalapeno poppers, peri-peri grilled chicken w/ baked wedges, brownies and a chocolate birthday cake. I made other stuff as well, but I couldn't be arsed to dig too much into my camera roll to find them.

But yeah.

Don't kiss the chef. We practice social distancing in these parts.

4. Working Out*

*trying to work out.

It's been a struggle, you guys. For the first month, I just let everything go. There was no physical activity whatsoever. My step count never even reached 100 on most days, since all I would do is roll out of bed to my laptop for work and then back in bed to watch a few episodes of the shows I previously mentioned. And not gonna lie, that certainly took a toll on my physical (and mental) health. I was feeling lethargic, irritable and bloated by the end of the first month.

That's when I got inspired to do...

The Chloe Ting Summer Shred Challenge.

I know this challenge became super viral this summer. I managed to finish 2 weeks of it before coming across a thread on how Chloe Ting wasn't a qualified nutrition/fitness expert. So then, that demotivated me to the point of giving up entirely, until I realized I had an old purchased program of FitnessBlender lying around - which I am currently doing. I'll let you know how that goes.

And yeah.

That's what I've been up to in this stay-at-home period. While it may seem like I have been getting stuff done and kept myself busy, it's still really, really tough some days. I know this blog is where I make light of many situations and don't really post about my mental health struggles (*COUGH* wewillignoreeverythingIpostedanddeletedlastyear *COUGH*) but I do wanna say that the title to this post holds some truth. I NEED THAT SOCIAL INTERACTION.

So. Please engage with me in the comments. How have you been spending your time at home? Has your lockdown lifted? Do you have a suggestion for what I should read? Do you want to be workout buddies? Do you wanna swap Money Heist memes? JUST TALK TO ME, THANKS.

Love you. I guess.

The Most Terrifying Moment of My Life - 2 (yes, it happened again)

In 2013, I wrote a post detailing the most terrifying moment of my life. It is one of my least favorite posts - mostly because I do not like revisiting the horrors of  that incident. Never in a million years would I have ever imagined that something like that would happen to me...a second time.

For anyone who has actually read that post when I wrote it 7 years ago and still remembers what happened:

1. wow you're old. also, how on earth does your brain have that much storage?
2. it happened again, guys. it freaking happened again.

My day started like any other does in the current climate we live in. Waking up at home, eating at home, working from home, sleeping at home - rinse, repeat.

It shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone that I am spending a LOT of time in the kitchen these days (points at expanding stomach). Initially, it was because the quarantining pRoDucTiViTy that people were showcasing on Instagram seriously got to me. The amount of Dalgona Coffees and Banana Breads on every corner of social media made me want to pull my hair out - but also, made me feel like I was wasting all this extra free time I was bestowed with by not learning a skill.

So I baked and baked and baked and whisked and whisked and whisked.

I spent over one hour compiling these headlines and arranging them into this picture. Don't let it flop.

The Ramadan began, and if you know anything about girls in Ramadan, you know we are forced :) into :) the :) kitchen :) while :) the :) men :) sleep :) all :) day :).

I usually wrap up work at 5 pm and that's when my kitchen duty starts. It's my mum and me doing most of the cooking (with my grandma and aunt periodically assisting) - and after Iftar, it's usually me who does all the washing up. All in all, I get totally free from the kitchen around 9 pm - which would be fine, but...

We have roaches, you guys.

And they emerge at night.

Now, we didn't always have roaches. Okay, I'm lying. We always freaking had a roach problem. It's not just us though - our neighbors have complained of it too, particularly in the summertime. So please don't assume that we just breed those disgusting brown suckers in our cabinets. THE WHOLE STREET RAISES THEM TOGETHER. We got an entire extermination team in last year who absolutely ENDED those roaches' careers. But alas, the sweet relief was temporary. We had a good year without them... and now, they're back in full force.

The thing I hate the most about these scuttling pests are that they really know when to make an appearance. You need the cutting board? Oops, there's a roach stuck on the underside. Washing dishes? Oh dear, Mr. Roach seems to be having a swim - oh wait, he's being sucked down the drain! You're entering the kitchen for a midnight snack? Uh oh, you've busted the Daily Roach Gathering that congregates on the kitchen counters and table and disperses in 0.00005 seconds when you switch on the light.

Anyway. I digress. It was during one of these Ramadan days where (thanks to my completely messed up body clock) I found myself in the kitchen around 11 pm searching for a snack.

And that's when it happened.

It started out innocuous enough. I was rummaging through a cupboard, hoping I could manifest a sleeve of chocolate chip cookies into existence - if not cookies, then at least one of those mini Shahi Chilli Chip packets that simultaneously felt like birth and death when you ate them - when I felt something land on my face.

In that moment, I could not tell you if time stopped, or if I was the one who froze. All I knew was that there was a weight on my left cheek that felt abnormal and alien. From my peripheral vision, all I could see was a dark, unknown mass.

AND THEN IT SPREAD ITS WINGS.

You guys. It was a motherfucking FLYING COCKROACH.

AND IT WAS ON MY FACE.

As soon as the wings spread, I knew I was gone. One hundred percent a dead woman. Flashbacks from when the first time this happened to me kept occurring. At least this time, I had enough presence of mind to scream.

As soon as the aghast cry left my mouth, the cockroach flew off my face and left with the speed of someone that just realized their 4000-rupees-per-session therapy appointment started five minutes ago and they were still home.

In the flurry of thoughts that I had in that moment, one that particularly stuck out was that my first encounter with a flying cockroach was so many years ago and I was so little - maybe that's why it had looked so massive to me at the time? But judging by the size of the one that violated my cheek in 2020, the now - I was mortified to see that the species of flying cockroaches were as huge as ever.

Unfortunately for me, this wasn't the end of my encounter. The flying cockroach was still flitting across the kitchen. It was free to land on the multitude of surfaces in the room, which also included my face again. Thankfully, my banshee-esque scream had summoned half of my household who also ended up staring in horror at the mutated, winged creature for a couple of seconds before snapping into action with bug spray and a broom.

So yeah. This has been the most terrifying moment of my life 2. Here's to hoping part 3 never gets written, because it will never happen. Right? Right?

Sigh. If this incident has taught me anything, it's that I'm cursed and I am to expect another flying cockroach encounter in the next 10-15 years. I just know that this won't be my last rodeo. Oh, and availing extermination services annually is a great idea. Just saying.

Here's a picture my sister made to commemorate the existence of the flying roach. Trust me, it did not look as cute as this at all.

See you really soon,

Furree

Dear Colleague:

No, you did not reinvent the wheel by creating a folder on Google Drive for us to share documentation. Please stop seeking validation by spamming the work group chat with how your 'amazing idea' got 'approval from the boss' and how you can 'have a Zoom training session' to 'teach' people how to 'get used to' this 'new way' of sharing things.

No, you cannot message me at 11:37 pm. Working from home does not mean 'all hours are working hours'. You are 6 hours too late. Either wait for another 10 hours - or alternatively, write your question on a paper, fold it, and insert it any bodily orifice of your choosing.

No, I will not proofread your work - especially work that has nothing to do with our job in the first place! Any professional assistance I can give you only extends to that - professional. I will not spend an hour correcting your numerous grammatical and spelling errors for an essay in an irrelevant course you decided to spend your time on instead of doing your job.

Dear Me:

No, you will not validate your colleague by telling them that they have in fact, reinvented the wheel with their wondrous, innovative and never-before-used way of sharing documentation. You will not praise them for their masterfully quick thinking and their ability to right click and create new folders. You will not give them attention on their weak attempt to impress a bunch of cynical, tired and worn out colleagues who literally do not give two squats about any sort of file-sharing. FAILED 

No, you will not acknowledge any message outside working hours until the sun rises the next day. As the Michael Buble song goes: it's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life... and your life after 6pm and before 9am has absolutely nothing to do with any of your colleagues. In fact, you should reply snarkily! You should tell off your colleague for disturbing your peace of mind and invading the sanctity of (what should be) your private time! FAILED

No, you will not waste your time working for free on something that is completely unrelated to your occupation or areas of expertise. Something that you will most likely not even be thanked for. Something that will have all your effort go uncredited. You will not... correct that spelling error... the way that sentence is structured... that... apostrophe placement... FAILED

No, you will not just write this on your blog like a spineless, ball-less person. You will tell your colleague about how you will not be belittled, underestimated and taken for granted. You will stand up for your time, privacy and professional limits. You will!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

...

FAILED.

Update: I'm Engaged and Before You Say No One Cares - I Care. So There. A 12 Year Old Wrote This Title.

Before the coronavirus was out there destroying lungs, families, economies, livelihoods and mental peace, it was roaming around a random bat's intestine*.

Around this time of COVID-19's bat-intestinal-running**, something else was happening in the world.

MY ENGAGEMENT.

Yes. It happened. I finally became one of those godforsaken people who appeared in the sudden wave of yearly social media posts announcing engagements, weddings, pregnancies or childbirths. I was probably the reason someone rolled their eyes at their feed and scrolled a little extra fast that day. But it's okay.

Thankfully, it wasn't arranged. Lmao. That's all I have to say. Post over. Bye.

But no, for real. I dated my now fiance for many years before we got our families to make it happen. Since the engagement took place in January, it really felt like a great beginning to a new year (LOL at that now). Well. At least for me, my year had a good 3 month run before things started going south with the current situation of the world.

Preparing for my engagement was super fun. I knew I wanted to wear pink, so that's what I wore. I chose the exact color and the fabric, and got my outfit stitched by a tailor. While it was definitely not as convenient as picking something off a rack, I had the satisfaction of the dress looking and fitting the exact way I imagined. I got recommended an event planner who actually did a gorgeous job with organizing the decor, food and photography for the event. There definitely was stress in the process, but I tried to stay as calm and collected as I could. Partly because I didn't want my skin to break out. But mostly because I knew it wasn't worth losing my sanity and not being able to enjoy probably one of the biggest events of my recent life over some bullshit that wouldn't matter the second the ring was on my finger. Haha. Also, I was really unhappy with my makeup on the day.... But that's ok. The photos are fine so I'm not too pressed.

The engagement itself was quite a small function, as only our close (practically only immediate) family attended. I liked it the way it was, but now I'm actually looking forward to a larger function where I can go crazy with the guest list in the form of my wedding.

We plan(ned???) to get married early next year, but who knows if that will still happen. I'm optimistic based on the general statistics and projections as well as my faith in science and modern medicine - but nothing's for sure anymore, and that's a bit disheartening.

So yeah. It doesn't really feel weird being engaged. I don't know why I had thought it would feel weird in the first place. But yeah. It's the same as having a boyfriend, but... idk, having an extra sense of security in the relationship I suppose? Having more people know about us (especially family and community members) is definitely something I'm getting used to. I am so adapted to hiding every facet of my personal life from people that having someone (or everyone) know I'm officially with a dude is still pretty unnerving.

Oh well. I actually wish I had more to say. I'm still getting the hang of writing effortlessly on here. But that's about it. I'm ENGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGED.


*not scientifically accurate
** seriously, not really. please. don't come to me for accurate info. i don't even have a degree. any degree. lol

Coronavirus sucks ass. I'm sorry. I had to say it somewhere. Hello everyone, and welcome back to my bullshit.

(Before I get into the COVID-WHATTHEFUCKHAPPENED-19 I would like to state something. For weeks and weeks and weeks I've had so many incredible, poignant, funny, slightly psychotic ideas and experiences that I have been wanting to document here. But the second I clicked on Compose it was like my mind was wiped blank. Fuck this shit. I catch myself wanting to write here at the most random times. In the middle of the workday. Right as I'm falling asleep. Mostly at times when I cannot just drop everything and write. So I'm resigning myself to talk about current events as the rest of my thoughts have gone MIA.)

Okay. I'm just going to say it. I cannot believe we are actually in the midst of a real life pandemic. I literally CANNOT process the magnitude of this thing and how (FAST) it has impacted everyone. EVERYONE! With half a million people infected in over 200 territories. I can't believe my city is in a LOCKDOWN with a CURFEW. Flights closed. Restaurants closed. Streets (relatively) empty. Everything eerily silent.

My hands are raw from washing them so often. We had a bunch of surgical masks stored from last year when we had to wear them on a regular basis to enter my grandfather's room before he passed away. So we just make use of those when going out (more like, back in the good old days of last week and prior when we were ALLOWED to go out). Wearing disposable gloves for everything - handling money, groceries, touching door handles and keys, the whole shebang. And basically just disinfecting everything with dettol.

You wanna know something? I don't even freaking remember the first time I heard about it. The virus. I don't remember what the topics of conversation with everyone were before this thing started taking over the world. Mundane work talk? Family problems? My engagement (yay!)??

I'm going to try and utilize this lockdown to write more on here. My working hours have reduced a lot since shifting online, so I have a worrying amount of spare time handy. And I really do have so much to talk about. So many good things, bad things, painfully average things. ALL THE THINGS.

So now that I've said it, I need to honor it. It would be so embarrassing for my soul if I didn't lol.

P.s. Doesn't social distancing sound like a fancy millennial buzzword for introversion?? Or something out of a Goop article. ''PrActIcE sOcIaL DiStAnCinG oNcE a MoNtH tO ReAliGn YoUr VagInaL ChaKraS''.

Anyway.

Stay at home.

The First Crime I Ever Committed

Guys. I know clickbait is dated, so I'm not even going to try it. The following event is 100% true to the title of this post... and also illegal.

Please, don't try this at (your) home(town).

this image is 100 percent authentic. pls don't h8.

As mentioned in countless previous posts, I was a very unproblematic child. I followed the rules and never gave my parents any issues. In fact, my impeccable behavior from my birth till my early teens is still spoken of highly as legendary family lore: I was that one girl who displayed model behavior at all times.

Which is why my ONE unlawful activity haunts me to this day.

What makes it worse is.... I was 9 years old.

Now, to understand the reasoning behind my actions, you need to be aware of my backstory first. My parents were smokers all throughout my childhood - my mum did it occasionally, but my dad was an addict. Growing up around this act, I never thought anything of it. In fact, I thought smoking was just something everyone did when they grew up (this thought was enabled due to literally every uncle, aunt, family-friend, house-help etc present in my childhood being a smoker as well).

It wasn't until third or fourth grade when I actually began learning about the harmful impact smoking had on one's body and health. Let me tell you... from a child's perspective, seeing a fresh pink lung compared to a rotten black one in a textbook is simultaneously the most fascinating and horrifying thing on the planet.

This is when I became acutely aware of the danger that my family members surrounded themselves with. Me and my little brother (who got a sneak peek of the blackened textbook lung in my homework) became my parents' worst nightmare - constantly talking to them about cancer, heart disease and strokes. We would cough in an exaggerated fashion whenever one of them lit up a cigarette, and always throw unpleasant (but very real) smoking-related death statistics at them at any opportunity.

Soon, it became too much for my mum to deal with. My brother had a breakthrough with her - after a tearful plea begging her to not kill herself through her actions, my mum was consumed with guilt and burnt out her final cigarette.

It was a success for my brother and I - but only fifty percent. My dad still smoked. Nothing went through to him. Every new year, he would make a resolution to not smoke... only to break it within the first 12 hours. He went through a pack or more a day, and seemed to turn a deaf ear to anything my brother and I had to say about the harm he was inflicting upon himself.

During this time, my brother, parents and I used to live with our grandparents. (Desi joint family systems, amirite?) This meant that I would accompany my grandma on her many grocery shopping excursions while my mum and dad worked or just existed fabulously and worry-free at home.

It was one of these grocery shopping trips that led to my very first criminal activity.

I was casually chilling in the checkout line when I saw something on the shelves on the side. In any normal supermarket, these shelves are reserved for gum. Or maybe your odd tabloid magazine. Or a hand sanitizer.

But nooo. This random supermarket in the heart of my hometown had...

Nicotine pills.

First of all, what???

Second of all... this was a huge breakthrough. 9 year old me had no idea that there was such advanced medical technology out there that could aid a person in their journey to stop smoking. According to the packaging, these nicotine pills were a substitute for cigarettes, and could help people quit smoking. I was enthralled, and a hundred percent convinced that this was the miracle cure my dad needed.

But there was a hitch. I was just a child, and a broke one at that. Since my grandma was the only adult in this situation who had any actual ability to purchase these nicotine pills, I obviously thought to ask her to buy them. There was no way she would say no, right? After all, it was her son-in-law we were talking about. The father of her grandchildren. These pills could help him stop smoking. They could save him from the legendary textbook black lung!!!! It was practically life-and-death.

So imagine my horror when my grandma said no.

''These things are just a gimmick,'' she said. ''Plus, they're too expensive.''

I was gobsmacked. Here's an accurate representation of my thought process:

I was torn. While 9 year old me couldn't understand the concept of a gimmick (perhaps due to the fact that I was raised on homeopathic medicine as a child ... um... how am I still alive? It cured my asthma btw) but I definitely did get that the nicotine pills might have been too expensive for my grandma to frivolously spend money on. If I recall correctly, it was a total of 150 rupees... which is close to nothing now, but back then it must have had some value.

I had only a few seconds to think. It was our turn at the checkout counter. My grandma was loading the groceries on the conveyor belt. The thought of being so close to what seemed like a miracle cure for my dad's smoking habit and not being able to attain it was killing me.

It was here that I made my decision... to commit a crime.

I edged as close to the pills as I could without looking suspicious. The checkout man was old and seemed too busy scanning my grandma's groceries to notice me. A quick glance around the supermarket showed that literally no one gave a single fuck about what I was about to do.

In one swift motion, I grabbed a bottle of pills and pocketed it.

That was it. It was in my pocket, hence I was in too deep to back out now. If I took the pills out, someone might have seen me and question why it was in my pocket in the first place. So there was nothing else I could do but pretend that absolutely nothing happened and pray that no one noticed the slight bulge in the side of my dress.

The few minutes that took place while the groceries were being bagged and paid for were the most agonizing of my life. Just knowing that I had unlawfully swiped something from the grocery store and that the item in question was literally in my pocket while my grandma was making a completely lawful transaction like the law-abiding citizen she is.... Um. Let's just say it was a lot.

In those days, supermarkets at my hometown didn't have those fancy gates that beeped if you passed them with something you hadn't paid for. Since I had managed to evade the eyes of my grandma, the checkout guy, any form of security and all the other shoppers alike, I had successfully completed my first ever crime.

Theft.

Was I proud? Definitely not. But there certainly was a feeling of joy creeping over me once I realized that I had gotten away with stealing the nicotine pills. Only because, in my head, it was rationalized with the notion of helping my dad break his addiction to cigarettes. Which obviously meant that I was saving his life (... right?).

It took me a couple of days to actually present the pills to my dad. Once I did, he questioned me about where I got them from. Did I break down and confess my crime, return the bottle and clear my conscience? Nope. 9 year old me was slick. I told him that I had saved up money for week in order to buy these for him, and I bought them on a trip to the grocery store with my grandma. (Yes, apart from my full-time job as a grocery store burglar, I also dabbled in lying.)

The look on my dad's face was one to remember. At the time I thought he wore an expression of overwhelming pride and joy for the lengths his little girl would go to protect her dad from harm. Looking back though, it definitely seemed like a look of exasperation mingled with pity.

 My dad thanked me and took the bottle from my hand.

SUCCESS! I thought to myself. I had done it. My dad would take a pill, realize that he didn't need cigarettes anymore, chuck them out, and start a new life as a healthy man.

I had done it.

...

Or so I thought.

It literally took my dad two days to pull out a cigarette and smoke it in front of me with no shame. When I questioned him about the pills, he said they had helped reduce the number of cigarettes he had in a day, and they were certainly working.

I'm pretty sure he was bullshitting, because this man did not stop smoking for the next 14 years. He continued making his new years resolutions, and also continued to break them. He swore he would stop when my little sister was born, but he literally stepped out for a smoke break at the hospital after she arrived into this world. He smoked after every meal, and during every drive. He smoked when he was stressed, and when he was happy.

His final cigarette was just before he doubled up in the middle of our living room with a heart attack.

Don't worry, he survived.

AND QUIT SMOKING.

No thanks to the theft I committed at age 9. My first crime.

Looking back at all these events, I wonder if stealing was worth it. (Definitely not). I also wonder if the grocery store ever realised that they had one bottle of nicotine pills missing from their inventory. Sometimes I lay in bed at night and think about doing the right thing and sending them 150 rupees just to atone for my sins. (In this day and age, that might not even cover the cost of a stick of gum, but whatever.) I also can't help but wonder if all the shitty events in my life are due to karma for stealing those very pills from an honest business (regardless of my very pure intentions). Who knows.

ANYWAY. I feel like I need to let everyone know that this was the first and last time I ever stole anything from anyone or anywhere. Contrary to what you might think, I do not have an illustrious history of criminal activity. I'm serious. Have I committed other... not-so-serious crimes though? Yes. This post wasn't titled 'The FIRST Crime I Ever Committed' by mistake. There have been other minor illegalities that have taken place in my life. And not all of them took place in my childhood.

Maybe I'll write about them when the shame wears off.

See you really soon,

Furree

A Very Wild Adventure In Ikea

Before I get into this story, let me tell you something about myself. I am not a spontaneous person.

Everything I do is very highly deliberated on. Now, this could either be because of my general introversion or the fact that I have Asian parents and am used to the system of 2 to 3 business days needed for permission to do anything in life. Either way, I do NOT do anything on a whim.

This is why this story must be told. A split second decision occurred - and it turned into a very wild adventure featuring myself, a Dutch boy, and a shark in Ikea.

Let's start at the beginning.

Everyone who knows me knows that I love making friends online. I am a bit of a maniac in a way that I constantly, RABIDLY seek people out to befriend. You can search me up on any platform and I'm right there, striking up a conversation on something, complimenting someone, making jokes about a mutual topic of interest, ANYTHING. I never put in any of this energy into my real life, which explains why I have just one IRL friend and about five thousand online ones.

It was this pursuit of friendship that led me to Vincent.

Vincent is from the Netherlands, and he is a world traveler. He meets people through apps and stays/hangs out with them on his various journeys across the Earth. We first got in touch in 2016, when he visited UAE. We met up and had a really nice time browsing bookstores and eating Cinnabon.

Two years later, he decided at the very last minute to take a detour flight to UAE on his way back from one of his many expeditions. We got to meet again! I was so excited. I wanted to do something fun and make the stop worthwhile.

Vincent wasn't really interested in the touristy stuff that Dubai in particular had to offer. In any case, he had done a lot of exploring on his own in his first trip, so he was familiar with all the main attractions of the city. This meant that when we met, the entire day was open to a whole lot of possibilities which didn't involve a hefty entry fee.

I had looked up a boat ride on the Marina as something fun to do. It was essentially an air-conditioned Abra (no, not the Pokemon) that rode around the water for an hour, and looked like this:

The Abra was very spacious and comfortable, and the ride itself was incredibly nice. We took a public one, but since there were no passengers at that particular ride we had the entire boat to ourselves (apart from the boat driver and a random friend he picked up to sit next to him??? which was kind of cute??).

The Abra also provided a stunning view of the architecture around it, specifically the various high-rises (this isn't sarcasm... some buildings on the Marina are actually quite pretty, okay? When they don't look like they're judging my financial status from above, that is).

Vincent and I talked about a lot of things on that boat trip, and since we were on the water the conversation gravitated to things that were very water-centric. While all I could contribute was the shameful admission of my lack of ability to swim, Vincent had great stories like hitch hiking an actual boat on one of his many travels. I mean... I know my entire existence is inadequate, but there was a comically unfair difference in experiences here.

Eventually, we landed on the topic of sharks, and Vincent's face lit up. He told me that he had a serious goal in life: to purchase a MASSIVE shark toy from Ikea and keep it in his room. I present to you:

The BLAHAJ Shark.

When I looked it up on my phone, I instantly knew why Vincent liked it so much. It was a HUGE, ULTRA SOFT, MENACING-BUT-FREAKING-ADORABLE-LOOKING CUDDLY MONSTER. Who doesn't love something like that?

Upon further inspection, we found something completely unexpected. The Blahaj Shark was a literal meme. Apparently, people have been putting the shark in various positions and scenarios and posting pictures of that on the internet. Here are a few examples from Google Images:

Vincent and I found this hysterical. We literally could not stop laughing about it. He had no idea that the toy he sought was an internet sensation in its own right. He told me that whenever he had been to the Ikea back home in the Netherlands, he always wanted to buy the shark but never ended up doing so.

It was at this moment where my brain stopped working in the way it had been conditioned to work for the past 24 years and produced an idea very uncharacteristic of me.

I told Vincent that we should go to Ikea and find The Blahaj Shark here in Dubai.

He didn't need to be told twice.

We took a taxi ride across the city, practically shivering with anticipation the entire way. Despite me not even knowing of the existence of the Blahaj Shark before that day, I felt like I was about to come into contact with a celebrity. Tons of questions were racing through my head. What would it feel like? How big was it in actuality? And most importantly - did the Ikea in Dubai even have it in stock???

When we reached, we were falling over ourselves in a rush to get to the toys section. If you have any idea what the general layout of Ikea is, you need to pass an insurmountable amount of furniture to make it there.

Navigating through Ikea felt like getting lost in a labyrinth with many titillating distractions at every turn. Vincent and I must have sat on every sofa and bounced on every mattress along the way to our destination.

Finally, after what felt like ages, we saw the array of toys spilling out of display shelves and baskets. And in the midst of them all... lay the glorious Blahaj Shark.

Or should I say, sharks?

There was a basket FULL of them. Vincent and I squealed like we just won some sort of lottery. Without any hesitation, we bolted towards the basket and each grabbed a shark.

THEY. WERE. SO. SOFT.

After standing there and cuddling them like we had found our long lost children (and getting some seriously weird looks from the other shoppers around, mostly because Vincent kept humming the Jaws theme), we knew what we had to do.

WE HAD TO PARTICIPATE IN THE INTERNET MEME OF MAKING THE BLAHAJ SHARK POSE IN DIFFERENT SETTINGS IN IKEA.

In utter glee, we ran across the maze of Ikea and positioned the sharks in every scenario possible. Since Ikea has an insane amount of ready-made 'rooms' and displays around for inspiration, it wasn't tough to find places to take photos of the Blahaj Shark in line with the meme.

We placed the Blahaj Shark in bed with a friend. We gave it a seat at the dinner table. We held it up to pose under the shower. Anything and every idea that we came across, we acted on. The best part was that none of the Ikea employees even batted an eye over our shenanigans. It was like... they were somehow used to people goofing around? I don't know, but shout out to Ikea Dubai employees for being real ones.

And now, for the most important part of this story. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you:

The actual pictures we took with the Blahaj Shark inside Ikea.

Blahaj Shark at work

Blahaj Shark using the toilet (sincerely sorry for invading your privacy!!!)

Blahaj Shark showering (wow we are awful people)

Blahaj Shark getting ready like a beauty guru

''CAN I HAVE SOME FUCKING PRVACY???'' - Blahaj Shark while changing

Time for a Blahaj Shark DINNER DATE!!!!

Success ;)

This was most the most fun outcome from any spontaneous decision I have ever taken in my life. I can't believe my friend's simple stopover in my city led to this epic adventure of seeking out a stuffed shark and participating in the internet meme that had spawned from its existence.

Vincent left UAE for home the very next day. Even though he's gone now, I'm sure he will cherish the memories of us falling over ourselves laughing while trying to hold up a massive stuffed shark and taking pictures of it forever. I know I will!

Now, the only thing that we need to do is actually save that coin to afford a Blahaj Shark each. Those things are expensive. I'll update this post if that ever happens.

See you really soon,

Furree