Gulf is actually short for, gutter.

So much has happened that hasn’t been blogged. It’s okay though. Koi murr nahi raha tha mairay blog karnay… ya na karnai sai. Hi, I am a bitch. They call me Insi, with love.

Now, let me get to the point straight away. How the hell do people manage to visit, spend hours and hours, eat, sit, waste time, bargain, run-over-people, spend more hours, walk, shop, yada yada in a shopping mall that literally smells like the deep insides of a gutter! I swear it seems like the cute green-eyed and other sick-dukaan walaas that call you baby actually take a dump in and around their shops. Gulf sucks. It smells of sweat and vomit. Yuck, yuck, yuck.

On top of it all- I am forced to get this really gorgeous kaam (not my opinion!) done on my kapra. Ammi and my sister had refused to get up from this one particular shop till I made up my mind. After deciding, rejecting my own idea and deciding again and repeating the cycle ten times, I finally decide on what I wanted kaam wise and where i wanted the kaam and how much kaam and what type of kaam and blah blah and basically so much of such useless information just screwed my mind and so I just wanted to get this done and over with.

After 30 or so- most smelly and stinky minutes of my life, I had finally come to a conclusion. I was freaking proud of myself. 30 seconds later, Ammi takes-over and asks him for the final price using important words such as “beta” and my sister calling him “bhai” with more love then she’s ever called our own bhai- all in the name for a good bargain baby! I just sit and try and not pass out by that bullshit/humanshit perfume that I can smell and 20 thousand other women/pathan around me can’t. La la la la… 2 seconds later, Ammi and my sister get up to leave and ask me to follow. Another 2 seconds later it hits me that just because the guy didn’t give them a bargain, they’re willing to go to another shop and make me go through the stinky-mind-numbing-drill all over again. FUCK NO.

I was pissed. We go to Shop No. 2. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I make it obvious. I tell the ‘designer/darzi/pathan’ to not fuck with my time. Not make me give him details and decide on what I want- only to get a ridiculous price by mom-standards, even if you’re willing to pay for it yourself! That I sweat to earn money too. Well, maybe not but you know… so by this time I also realized that I was really, very- pissed. Asked Ammi and the sister to order what they think looks good and wear it too and that I am getting up and leaving in 5 minutes so they better hurry up.

But really… the point it… How the hell do people manage to visit, spend hours and hours, eat, sit, waste time, bargain, run-over-people, spend more hours, walk, shop, yada yada in a shopping mall that literally smells like the deep insides of a gutter! I swear it seems like the cute green-eyed and other sick-dukaan walaas that call you baby actually take a dump in and around their shops. Gulf sucks. It smells of sweat and vomit. Yuck, yuck, yuck.