Life Without Opposable Thumbs



I think I owe you an explanation and it’s very likely that if we’ve met, I also owe you some money. Here’s the explanation-

Firstly do not be alarmed, I do have opposable thumbs and am not the victim of some newfound disformity. It’s just, I happened to be re-watching Season 2 of Scrubs, the Halloween episode and Dr.Cox aka Perry also widely known as my favorite character in the Hates-everybody category  happened to say “you have opposable thumbs, use them” to a large man in a gorilla costume. Out of context whether or not you are familiar with the scene, I thought of what if he didn’t have opposable thumbs? Then what? This particular train of thought ended rather quickly and I was left thinking “Life without Opposable Thumbs” would be such a great title for a blog-post.

Here’s the thing about me, I am a writer of the highest calibre. Were this a different more sophisticated electricity-less era, I could have proven this to you by showing you just how worn out my quill is. However since we are living in a much more dramatic and much less interesting technological age this blog will have to suffice. As you can see I try not to make everything about myself and the fact that I own a t-shirt which claims that “I am the center of the universe” should do nothing to convince you otherwise.

Let’s get down to business now shall we?

I have realized with great conviction that there is only one thing I aspire to be- a TV writer, a sitcom writer to be more specific.

My life goals can be eloquently summarized in the following manner:

1.Write and star in own sitcom a la Tina Fey/ Amy Poehler/ Mindy Kaling

2. Write 7 part (not a big fan of trilogies) best-selling novel series a la J.K.Rowling

3. Get pilot’s license.

4.Acquire 4 different puppies of distinct but fluffy varieties and have unscheduled but extremely regular puppy parties.

5. Meet Robert Downey Jr.

6. Go to and have a panel at Comic Con

7.Update this blog weekly.

Okay well let’s face it no one in their right mind would ever give me a pilot’s license, but of course the rest is very doable and will be done asap.

I have chosen MIndy kaling as my preferred role model because even though she may not have realized it yet despite that one tweet I sent her last year, she and I are going to be best friends-we have so much in common.

Mindy’s mom was a gynecologist, so is mine. Mindy was in Nigeria during her early childhood before her parents were awesome and decided to move to the states, I was in Nigeria for most of my formative years too. Mindy’s dad is Tamilian, so is mine. Mindy has her own TV show and is awesome, I am pretty damn awesome and will have my own TV show soon. Mindy is extremely funny, if my school actually did the whole yearbook thing, I would’ve had that Class Clown title in the bag.

This blog is fresh start for me. Hopefully to interact with more aspiring writers TV and otherwise. Put up some of my work. You can read some of the stuff I’ve written in fantasy/fiction at and I’ll be starting a spec/script sharing section soon. Here’s what you can expect in general- talk about the shows I am watching currently, TV writers that inspire me, episodes I like, actors I would love to do, and other writerly stuff like that.

For today I’ll give you the short version because intimidation is just not my style:

House of Lies : Loving it, I wouldn’t mind less scenes of Cheadle fucking people, but that’s just my orthodox Indian upbringing talking. Ben Schwartz aka Jean Ralphio from Parks and Rec, who knew he could be more awesome? I’m two episodes in and I don’t think I am ever coming back out. (That’s what she said ).

I also spent some time re-watching early episodes of the comedy classic Full House to revisit the good old days and remind myself that the Olsen twins existed.

Caught the new ‘The Mindy Project'(I really thought she could’ve come up with a better name for the show)- you get some never before seen footage and parts of Chris Messina(Danny Castellano) and Mark Duplass(Brendan Delaurier) unleashes the beast inside. Honestly the best part for me was Ike Barinholtz(Morgan Tuckers) the character is just amazing.

Caught the new episode of New Girl. It was underwhelming despite how much I love Brenda Song (Daisy) guest starring. Without Max Greenfield(Schmidt) the episode would’ve been supremely pointless. I didn’t even LOL once, but I’m hoping it was just an off night and won’t be like Community where from Season 2 everything just went downhill.

Tomorrow is Thursday and that means Parks & Rec, Vampire Diaries oh hell I’m just gonna show you a snapshot of my calendar Image

Catcha on the flipside…of the remote 🙂


About a dude

Hello my loyal subjects and welcome people who have wandered onto this “blog” by accident or the numerous ‘hot guy’/’Christian Bale’ tags. How y’all doing? As much as I’d like to continue making banal inquiries into your lives, here’s the dealio. I’m considering starting a series of short stories about meet-cutes. This is a sample of what that series might entail. By this I mean the portion under that dotted line. If I seem less than genial today, it’s probably on account of the fly I found in my soup. Whatcha gonna do though? Life goes on. Leave comments, hopefully the kind that’ll brighten my day.
In other unrelated stuff, how cute is this drawing of Gus & Hazel from TFIOS
The Fault in Our Stars

The Fault in Our Stars


The name’s Fiona. I’m not exactly the girliest girl around, but that’s neither here nor there, just some context, sorta. This is about a guy. Let me paint you a picture, I’m no artist either, but this should be easy enough. The day was August the Thirteenth, it was a Friday, and I was about to turn 21. I was also in one of those moods, you know the ones where you get all contemplative, and attempt to “take stock of your life”. What have I accomplished? Will drinking legally be fun? What if Game of Thrones gets canceled?(I know it will never actually happen, but still the thought irks me sometimes). 

Those were among the more profound concerns swirling through my mind as I made my way to the lobby of the W Hotel. It was the final destination of the rigorously planned treasure hunt my friends had set up leading to an even more elaborate “surprise” party. The receptionist handed me a tiara, and insisted I pose for a picture wearing it, before she handed over the final set of instructions. I was mildly content if not ecstatic, I was also making a subtle statement by pushing the envelope with my non-conformist outfit. Dress code is smart casual? Let’s see you stop me from wearing my boyfriend jeans(brand new from Macy’s and not my actual boyfriend’s) and lacklustre tank-top. Fortunately for me, my birthday was the one day I was let off the hook for my unabashed and purposeful ignorance of social, fashion-al, and behavioral norms. 
‘Go to the rooftop and there your greatest gift awaits’
The elevator was empty when I stepped in, I caught a glimpse of my tiara-donned reflection. I could’ve easily been mistaken for a drunk Bachelorette party stray. THe thought amused me and as I allowed myself a slight smirk the elevator stopped on the 6th floor. A man walked in, he was just the right amount of casual, and he had the looks of a guy who could play a vampire on TV. I managed to put down my arm, it had been making its way upward of its own accord, towards him, in what could have either been an attempt to shake his hand, or something less lady-like, we’ll never know. Well he’ll never know anyway. 
He seemed to give me the once over, eyes lingering on my tiara and spurring the urge to explain. 
“It’s my birthday”
“Mine too.”, he had the voice that you would imagine Adam Levine would have, if you hadn’t ever actually heard him sing, and had just seen his face. He didn’t seem overjoyed though. I liked that, he was chill, not too perky.
“Happy birthday!!!”, believe me I actually said the three exclamation points, he must’ve noticed too, he smiled. Now when I describe this, try to picture it the right way, it was as if the left side of his mouth kinda twitched and curved upward and someone hit the pause button on his face, mid-twitch. The result was absolutely spectacular. 
“Um, happy birthday to you too…uh?”
“Osman. Fiona. Like in Shrek, except less Ogre.”. We shook hands.
“Sam,” he smoothed over the awkwardness that peeked out at my mention of Ogres. 
I kid you not, we were somewhere between the 42nd floor and the 43rd when the elevator stopped. And the lights go out. Okay, maybe that’s a lie, the lights did not go out, they flickered.
So there we were, locked in a claustrophobic metal box, on our birthday, sans cellphone reception. I had nothing to complain about, and nothing to worry about either, except for the delay in my birthday festivities and possibly the fact that I was now exceedingly conscious of the gaping silence within the elevator. 
“This is convenient,” he said grimacing. Safe to say he was about as peeved at this situation as I was delighted. 
“Yup. My friends will not believe me when I tell them about this,” I sounded nonchalant and for pulling that off I gave myself permission to spend 5$ on in-app purchases in Candy Crush. 
“I won’t get paid if I show up late to this gig, it’s some snotty shindig on the rooftop bar. I’m supposed to be tending bar and I’m four…ty five minutes late”. 
And that my friends is how my absolute fantasy meet-cute with a gorgeous bartender who shared my birthday deteriorated quickly into an anti-climactic anecdote that I embellish with each passing year. I always whip it out at every single occasion where an open bar is involved. Thank you and Good Night. 
Also how awesome is Bastille? If you haven’t heard Pompeii yet 

Angels & Demons


Google Images doesn’t do him justice, trust me

There aren’t many shows that inspire an TV addict such as myself, to marvel at just how good they are. I watch enough shows(over 55) irregardless of my high/low opinions, it’s almost become a rote activity. Da Vinci’s Demons however is one of the very few that made me sit up and take notice of the quality content despite how attractive the protagonist is, see for yourself:

There are many shows I watch for the sole purpose of rejuvenating my eyes- Supernatural, The Vampire Diaries, that other show on the CW network. You must understand then, that only extraordinary writing, riveting characters and story-lines, phenomenal acting and marvelous(I do mean MARVELOUS) production is what it takes to get me to take my eyes off of that man and appreciate the show’s magnificence.

It’s created by David. S. Goyer (the guy who wrote the latest, and less than satisfying, installment in the Superman series), yeah, I was surprised too. Here’s what I can tell you about the show( Wiki and IMDB for detailed splanations)-

  • It’s a twist on the traditional accounts behind Leonardo Da Vinci’s tale of brilliance, with an intriguing and somehow appropriate supernatural tinge to it
  • You will see more nipples in one episode of the show than you can count, seriously you should make a drinking game out of it, I did. Ditto butt-cracks.
  • If you like Game of Thrones and Sherlock, this one is definitely in your zone. It has a smidge of the bloody massacre and beheading that Game of Thrones has led us to expect, and simultaneously incorporates a Sherlockian protagonist in Da Vinci.
  • The production effects are stellar, they really draw you in taking you on a journey into Da Vinci’s head, helping you understand his perception of the world as a marginally ostracized, ambidextrous artista. Set in Florence, there is much to keep you on edge- treachery, the impending threat of war and of course, nothing is complete without some good ol fashion people-sleeping-with-people-they’re-not-supposed-to-be-sleeping-with drama

They say the devil is in the details, and I say that’s absolutely heavenly. On a side note, I must say, the day I actually find out who “they” are, I’m going send them a bunch of mean tweets. In 8 episodes, each better than the next, Goyer hides clues and little details that link to future episodes, and I must say I feel absolutely gleeful on the rare occasions that I figure them out.

SPOILER ALERT Goyer also has an awesome blog where he talks about his thought process and the production of some of the episodes. 

What are you waiting for GO WATCH NOW, so we can talk about it.

Season 1 Trailer

Season 2 Trailer, if you’re super curious

Un Happy Endings


Since almost everything has been on hiatus, I haven’t had much to write about. That combined with the fact that I am in Massachusetts, USA and no longer in the perennial state of boredom that I used to be in, made blogging harder than usual. I thought a lot, about a show that I would want to write about at this point. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I don’t wanna do reviews, so I figured I’d complain. Yes, as shocking as that is. This is a dedication to those heroes(not really), those veterans(um still no) and those brilliant shows(YES), that were laid to rest before their time. May they RIP and then be resurrected(JESUS-style), on another network.

Here’s to you: Happy Endings, Partners, Outsourced & Don’t Trust the B in Apt 23

Happy Endings:

Best show ever because:

1. Look how hot Damon Wayans Jr is, whilst rolling in the mulah

I might have a weird adoration for interracial couples, that has nothing to do with me having grown up in Nigeria.

2. The brilliance of Adam Pally being the least “gay” gay guy on TV. Max Blume’s the Jew who is gay, definitely NOT chubby and freeloads off his friends. I was like

3. The ridiculously over the top actions reactions of everyone on the show to pretty much everything is just AMAAAZEing, besides the fact that they’re unrealistically awesome lack of cohesion as a group of people.



4. When there was the slightest cancellation buzz around the show

And I did

5. I have had this dream, seriously I kid you not.

6. People were like there will be other shows and I just wasn’t feeling it.

7. The cancellation buzz got stronger and the episodes less frequent

8. Penny’s dating experiences are a revelation

9. They had both Nick Zano and Megan Mullaly guest star, that’s a cameo win.

10. They actually announced it’s cancellation

11. I will always remember the brilliance of this:




On the bright side the writers from these shows are all on other shows now and should be churning out some awesomeness,

That’s What She said


Who doesn’t love Happy Endings? Just FYI that’s a rhetorical questions and I do not, repeat, do NOT want a bunch of comments from sadists/weird pessimistic emo peeps. 

‘Mmmhmm, that’s interesting’, I said as you started saying something about an ex. I was starting to lose track, not because of what you were saying, but because it was 11:03 PM waaaay past my bedtime. Then again let’s face it, no one wants to hear you talk about your ex now.


‘…you can’t just get out like that’, you said, not really ending the tale, the one I hadn’t been paying attention to anyway, but I felt my lips curl up in a smirk and in the dark, I tugged a cushion closer to my chest and said, ‘that’s what she said’. As you always did, you paused before bursting out laughing.




Here’s the strange thing about strange things, they’re always stranger when they happen than you imagined they would be.


I’d been sitting outside a classroom, trying desperately to make sense of Fourier Transforms and when you showed up arm slung over this guy I knew vaguely, and referred to as ‘the bastard’, in close company, it wasn’t hard to imagine that the impression you made hadn’t been quite the best. On a scale of 3-4 it was probably a two. I glanced up, smiled and went back, not to deciphering the transforms, but to praying that the guy sitting next to me would write big enough so I could cheat off of him.


The B and you were chattering and it was bugging me, quite a lot. I looked up, shot what I hoped was an icy glare your way and said in what I hoped was a silencing hiss ‘I’m trying to cram here.’


‘that’s what she said.’ you stated, matter-of-fact, without hesitation and proceeded to laugh at your own wit, unabashed, and somehow brazen. I couldn’t help laughing along.




When people asked us how we got together, I never knew what to say, I wasn’t sure how it happened myself, but there we were, holding hands, me trying not be uncomfortable, and you, with your long fingers stroking mine, urging me to just calm the fuck down.


‘Reservation for two?’, the hostess asked, her gaze unwavering, her eyes seemed to be judging me harshly, what for? I had no idea, but it made me wince, it made me want to get out of there and get back in my bed, alone, under the covers. My hand however, was locked in yours, like you knew what I was thinking, and you probably did.


A “proper date” you called it, I wasn’t sure what terrified me more, the ‘date’ part or the idea of the people around. When the hostess came back, she smiled warmly and said, ‘Right this way’, gesturing towards the beginning of a steep staircase.


As she led the way, she kept talking, ‘I’m sure you will love this table, it has an amazing view. It’s always better to be on top.’


You turned and caught my eye, for the first time since we’d gotten there. I saw the smirk coming before it actually did as you mouthed the words so hostess-lady wouldn’t hear- ‘that’s what she said.’


I had to laugh at that, because of the expression on your face, how accomplished you seemed to feel that you cracked so wonderful a joke.


I spent the seemingly endless climb smiling about just how much you made me smile, wondering what you were wondering as we climbed those stairs and squirming at the thought of just how much you would laugh if you knew what I was thinking right then.




We were packing things, moving to a bigger apartment and I hated the packing so very much. So, I stared at a picture of us, your arms around me and each of us staring into the others eyes, like there was nothing else we would rather look at. It was like those pictures that came with the frame when you bought them, the weddingy ones.


‘We look sickeningly happy.’ I said, turning to you holding the picture up.


‘I know, I know, it makes you want to gag and hurl and the whole thing is unbearably cloying, but honey, try not to throw up in the box okay?’, your response left me irritated, mostly because you knew me too well, but then you came up behind me and held me in that exact same way you did in the picture, and I managed to resist the urge to rant about how we were nauseatingly in love and we should stop being so mainstream.


Before I could wiggle away I heard you say it, I was sure I’d heard wrong. ‘Marry me?’, you asked again, this time louder, smiling, confident and not even down on one knee. It was funny how all I could think about was that you weren’t down on one knee.


‘You sure about that?’, I asked with a smirk, and you responded in kind.


‘I have given it considerable amount of thought fair lady, and all that consideration has led me to the firm belief that I am ready to take a wife, and I would be honored if you would accept my proposal.’How you said that with a straight face I don’t know, but you did.


‘You do realize that if I do say yes it’s only because I need a Greencard and possibly the fact that we will get tax benefits if I can start checking the ‘Mrs.’ box on the forms, and maybe also because I don’t actively despise you, probably.’ My own response came out a bit more sardonic than I had intended, but then again I wouldn’t want people knowing how excited I really was, now would I?

‘Maybe this will swing the odds in my favor’, you said with a flourish and producing a diamond ring, that is quite possibly the most gorgeous thing I have ever laid eyes on, yes including you.


‘Oh my God, it’s huge!’, I walked right into that one, maybe I wanted to, but I laughed as you slipped it onto my finger, still not bothering to get down on one knee.


‘That’s what she said’, you added after a kiss and that positively smug wink.



I was afraid the grass would stain my dress, then I realized it ended above my knee. I thought about how you laughed when I started babbling in uncomfortable silences, and I wished that I could see you, but apparently that’s bad luck and I wouldn’t admit it, for sure, but I wanted everything to be perfect.


The backyard looked surreal and I was sure it would look more so in the pictures. My shoes were sinking into the damp grass. The rain last night was an inconvenience I hadn’t accounted for in the rigorous planning.


When I finally came back out, everyone was there. Friends mostly and some cousins. I wished my dad were there to walk me down that aisle, give me away, not away really, just to you. I felt shy, weirdly and unnaturally so. Everyone had their eyes trained on me and the music was timed with my footsteps. I was sure I would fall and there would be a ‘wah, wah, wah’ sound. I pressed my eyes shut, took a deep breath and started down towards you. When you caught my gaze, you smiled and signalled for me to hurry up, because you just couldn’t wait.


In that instant I knew what they meant by ‘giddy with happiness’. I forgot about the shoes and the dress, the eyes and the music.


We held hands and looked at each other in a way that would make a 17 year old me cringe. Vows were said, in sickness and in health.


‘I do.’ I said


You didn’t reciprocate, you weren’t as concise at least


Hells yeah, that’s what she said.


Gods must be crazy


I am a person of faith.

I believe, I pray, I marvel, I rejoice.

I look and I know that God has a hand behind this, I appreciate it and I give thanks. But, every once in a while, it wavers, things seem irreparable glass shattered and problems loom all around swallowing your dreams to spit out your bones, after picking their teeth. In those moments, I lash out at Gods, at his people, at the farce that is faith and choose to believe in the pointlessness of existence. It is in one such moment, possibly of weakness, or just my own version of revenge, that I wrote this:






because in my head Jesus looks like Christian Bale


Gods control, they don’t care. Picture God as the opposite of a nice mom (not those postpartum depression kinds that murder their kids) and you’ll know. All of the power, none of the morals. Somewhere in between the likes of Prince Joffrey and Jesus is God’s personality, the guy is just plain bored. This much I know for certain, God is a man.

We hope that he is kind and will reward faith with miracles. We paint him as a saint, and then go a step further, to give him a rival, an anti-god, the Satan to his holiness, a villain to the hero. This isn’t good versus evil, this isn’t like that at all. It’s just God- a single guy, living in his mom’s basement with the joystick that controls the world. Let me tell you, this guy is never a kind soul. This guy likes explosions, guns, bombs and genocide. The gorier the better. This guy is lonely and a little resentful. In his defense though, I am pretty sure he thinks it’s all just a game.

Hanni I’m home


Hannibal is fucking scary. If Mads Mikkelsen and I were in a room together, i would faint out of sheer fear and then Inception style I would have 3 levels of dreams where I faint again and again and again and then in Limbo he would be there and kill me and have me  for dinner with a side salad, because he knows better than to not eat his veggies. Mads is the kind of guy who could look at you and make you feel like you did something unforgivable, make you want to confess your sins before you hand him a knife and tell him to absolve you and take your life. I’m sure he’s a nice guy irl, but Jesus Christ, is he scary.

His eyes are like- stfu and let me cook you

He looks kinda hot in this picture

He looks kinda hot in this picture

There's no meat, like human meat, what a treat

There’s no meat, like human meat, what a treat



This show is brilliantly convoluted, and you just can’t help thinking just how fucked up the writers of the show must be. And then, there’s Hugh Dancy. The last time I saw this dude on screen was as a charming Disney type prince in a cape on Ella Enchanted, so you can imagine just how freaky it is to see him as an empathizing, borderline sociopath who has more voices in his head than brain and a lot of them aren’t even human.

Before: Ella Enchanted


After: Blood-covered, investigator/weirdo

Let’s talk some more about Mads though, first of all what sort of a name is that? Seriously, if I named a child Mads, I would be surprised if he didn’t end up playing a cannibalistic psychiatrist with a penchant for making beautiful Masterchef desserts as calmly as he castrates his victims before sauteing them.

If I had to summarize the show in one word it would be- creepy as fuck. That phrase is something I never understood and much like the slang of my generation it is nonsense. The show however is brilliantly pictured, from the shady weather and the clouds, to Laurence Fishburne’s unavoidable stern expression. Even the font in which the ‘VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED’, appears at the bottom of the screen is pretty cool, even though I chose to ignore it and continue watching. Hannibal is the stuff nightmares are made of, and trust me it makes Jack the Ripper seem like Spongebob.


On my Watchlist now:

1. Web Therapy-Phoebe Buffay is a therapist, who does 3 minute sessions on the web, she’s flaky, she’s crazier than her patients( there aren’t too many of those) and she went to Wharton Business School. Guess I know where I won’t be applying to next year :). I’ve seen 4 episodes and honestly I will never forget this line-

“What makes you think I don’t specialize in incest?”– Lisa Kudrow, on Web Therapy


More Hannibal:



Hannibal Confessions Tumblr: For the serial killer/ cannibal wannabe in you


Hannibal Comics: