Currently the favourite game at my place is Who can we set Sohnii up with? The participants are my evil sisters and their some-what evil friends. The poor victim is me (and I am not enjoying it, contrary to what you think). The object of the game is to come up with an eligible bachelor, try to sell his idea to me and then attempt to fix the both of us up.
The ideal bachelors line-up has included, till now, their totally delicious, totally good looking, totally narcissistic friend. Rejected on the basis of being a big huge Snob. Next in line was their Chicago-born who had major brownie points for being an eklota bacha. Unfortunately, it turned out to be false information and he was, infact, the middle one in three brothers. So they rejected him too. (Funny that you should think I would be the one to reject a guy since I was being set up. It doesn’t quite work that way with this lot. They choose the guy, they reject him. Just adds to the list, as another one of those things I don’t really understand about them.)
Then their was the Super-nova Wolverine who happens to be pretty cute but shorter than me, and Crazy Mayo who is a friend of mine, cute in a very boy-next-door way but has the weirdest sense of humor this side of the planet. Him, I personally rejected. A girl’s gotta have her laughs proper. And now their nazr-e-karam has shifted to my friend Memphis. Please note my emphasis on the words my friend. That rejection was by me too, simply on the basis of those two very words.
The conclusion is that while they have their daily laughs, picking out guys and dissecting their very fabric of being discussing their personalities, I sit back and think being the youngest in their group isn’t so cool anymore. Like my dad always says, “its your curse. You have to live with it. Sag baash, duktarey/bache khurd na baash.” (Translated from Persian: better a dog then the youngest daughter/son.)
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