I like to consider myself a heavy thinker. I spend a lot of time lost in my own thoughts. My sisters complain because I take 45-minute showers in which I analyze the dilemmas of the day: which class is the best in Monday Night Combat and why desi girls are obsessed with doctors.

Okay, so one day, while I was taking one of my thought-showers, I realized something important: there needs to be some serious change in this world. There are so many problems today: floods, disappearing middle class, deterioration of art, selfish rich people who don't care about helping the needy, hate crimes in the name of religion, money-hungry insurance companies, corrupt politicians, and the list goes on.

I also realized one more thing: I'm amazing. I came to the conclusion that I'm incredibly smart to have figured all of this out. If these problems exist, then that means no one else knows about them and that it's my responsibility to do something to make the world a better place. So I came up with this awesome idea...I'm going to become a speaker!

I've decided that I'm going to contribute to the greater good by talking. I'm going to go to all these different places and give speeches on these issues that only I know about. I'm going to change the world, one Facebook status at a time.

So here's where my idea becomes really awesome: people are going to LOVE me. I'm going to use big words, talk enthusiastically, invoke religion when necessary, and people are just going to eat it up. The genius of it is that I'm not going to actually have to do anything because I'm already doing my part by talking about the problems instead of actually solving them. Basically, I can do whatever I want as long as I'm making the world a better place with my mouth.

I can give speeches on the evils of spending too much on clothes while rocking Armani. I can pull up to anti-abortion rallies with my would've-been-baby-mama and no one will know. I can give Friday kuthbas, while hoping no one saw Thursday night's tagged pictures of me grinding on some girl at Rich's. I can run to the car during a wedding, have a few drinks, and then make it back in time to recite some Quran on stage. I can go to a masjid and make a 30-minute prayer asking God to protect me from the heathens who date, while my girlfriend is in the ladies section, losing her wudu.

Okay, maybe I went a little too far, but honestly, it's needed. I know I don't normally do this, but I'm going to step out of my satire box for a little bit. I'm sick and tired of these worthless people. It's not even the corrupt politicians in American government or the useless Pakistani government that I'm talking about. That's another monster that I don't think I can affect with some scrubby blog that nobody reads. It's the sickness that has spread to the people around me. People I see every day on Facebook and I read about in these nonsense Pakistani newspapers they stick on my windshield every time I go to pick up some naan.

Just stop it. No one said you had to be religious. If you're going to go up there and talk about religion or world issues, then back it up. Otherwise, don't talk. We don't need people to talk about the problems; we need people to solve them. If you have a girlfriend, it's not a big deal. Honestly, no one cares. But no one made you go up there and go HAM on the people that do. If you want to say interest is from the devil, then don't roll up in your brand new 3-series that you're "islamic-financing." Don't tell me it's wrong to spend excessively and then invite me to your daughter's twelve wedding events that each cost more than my house. You could feed a village in Bangladesh for a month instead of serving Filet Mignon to some spoiled memon kid for the eighth night in a row.

My battle is not with the people that do these things. If someone wants to spend lavishly, they have every right to. God knows, if I had the money, I'd pay a psychic to write my blogs directly from my brain. My problem is with the hypocrites: the ones who post annoying Facebook statuses with their holier-than-thou attitudes and feel that they have the right to pass judgement upon others and that the rules don't apply to them.

No one cares what you do. Just don't go up there and condemn people that partake in those activities that you yourself do. No one said you had to be a role model; you chose to be one. There's a certain responsibility that comes with casting yourself in the public eye. Without actions to back them up, your words are meaningless. Admit to yourself that you enjoy the social benefits of being "religious." Just be honest that you enjoy the attention that you get because you know how to implement the "fear of God" in the hearts of the pseudo-pious. Just because you are good at public-speaking or have some knowledge doesn't mean that you should be giving speeches. Knowledge is not the same as intelligence.

We need legitimate role models: people who have good character and good ideas. We have enough pundits, radio shows, and speakers; we need people who actually follow religion rather than just talk about it. Hypocrisy has an extremely strong stench; we can smell it on you and it smells worse than my colitis. And once we know you're a hypocrite, we want to do exactly what you told us NOT to do, just to spite you. So please, don't talk if you can't back up what you say with your actions. It's counter-productive. We'd rather you just stick to selling cell phones or used cars or whatever it is that you do when you're not polluting the air with your mouth diarrhea.

As a final note, the next person I see who says something that I know that they don't follow...I'm going to call them out. I don't care if it's some random Facebook status or an Islamic speech at a masjid. If you agree with me, I urge you to do the same. We need to stop this sickness. Our community needs people who act, not actors.

Normally, when I write these blog posts, I avoid revealing stuff about my personal life. I feel like talking about myself on a blog is kinda gay and I mostly use my blog to indirectly make fun of other people. However, what I'm about to talk about is something a lot of people go through and I guess I want people to know that they're not alone.

So a little while ago, I was at a friend's birthday dinner and I saw this pretty cute girl. I immediately noticed her because she had that light skin that I'm a sucker for. So after I spent 30 minutes in the restroom, looking at myself in the mirror and telling myself things like, "no girl could resist the Jangster charm," I finally worked up the courage to go up to her. I started off with the standard, "What's your name, what's your sign?" and she immediately laughed at the Notorious B.I.G. reference. This led to a nice lengthy conversation about rap music, society, philosophy, and even religion. It was perfect; here's this girl who has the same views as me: Eminem is the greatest artist ever, Islam is kinda cool, Kobe is better than Lebron, Omar is skinnier than me, and Haseeb is always right. I'm just playing about that last one; we all know that's not true.

Unfortunately, I was unable to obtain "what numbers to dial," but when I got home that night, I did the whole Facebook stalking thing. It took another 30 minutes in the restroom (psyching myself up, you pervs) to muster up the cajones to "poke" her on Facebook. In the interest of time, I'm going to glaze over the next few parts of this story: friend request, Facebook chat, Facebook chat, text, introduce to Haris, Haris-approval, text, phone, date with Haris there, date with Haris there, date without Haris there.

Okay, so flash forward a few weeks: I'm hanging out with this cute girl that knows all the lyrics to "Superman" and "Best I Ever Had", is better than me at Words with Friends, and, most importantly, has Haris-approval. So one day, we're chilling in my Camry outside of her favorite restaurant and scarfing down some bean burritos with beans instead of meat and I'm thinking that this girl is pretty cool. We've been friends for a few weeks, so maybe it's time to take it to the obvious next step. So I'm all, "Yo, you wanna do this thing?" and she's all, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" and I'm all, "Yeah." She took that as a sign to hop on over to my side of the car. That's when things started getting a little weird...

Me: Whoaa, slow your role, girl.
Her: I thought that this is what you wanted?
Me: No, girl, I was talking about you and me walking down the masjid carpet together, I'm a 23-year old college student, I'm not even THINKING about that type of stuff yet.
Her: Come on, Immy Minaj, you know you're down. The average guy thinks about this every eight seconds.
Me: About what? Marriage? I really don't feel comfortable...
Her: ...(mumbles) mission failed...
Me: What'd you say?
Her: ...nothing
Me: WHAT'D YOU SAY?!?
Her: That's it...it's time I tell you the truth...

That's when things went from regular-crazy to Kashif-crazy. Her skin started becoming lighter and lighter until she became transparent. Scales emerged from her skin and her teeth transformed into fangs. "This is who I really am," she snarled in a deep booming voice, "I was sent by the Devil to corrupt you." At this point, I push her off me and I'm like "Come on, man, not again...how come every cute girl I meet turns out to be a Jinn or an agent of Satan or something?!? I even let you meet my Haris!"

So that's when she decides that since I can't be corrupted, I have to be killed. My immediate reaction was to start reciting the anti devil-girl spells that Adil learned from Braelv Tech, but apparently, she was immune. She started her onslaught by opening her mouth and breathing fire on me. I immediately dodged the fireballs and jumped into the backseat. I was saved, but unfortunately, my radar detector was burned to ash. I reached under the passenger seat and pulled out my sword (and no, that's not a euphemism, you pervs). The devil-girl turned around and started scratching at me with her claws, but I was able to deflect them with my sword. She did manage to land one lick on me, but fortunately, she only scratched my trademark mole off. At this point, I did the Bismillah Sword Swipe that I learned from Brother Haleem Ahmed Khan, and chopped off the Armani Exchange purse from which she was drawing her power. She let out this piercing cry that caused dents all around my car and left a crack on my windshield, as she disappeared into a Forever 21 gift card.

Of course I couldn't tell my parents what happened, so I just told them that the car dents were from a few poles I ran into, the windshield was cracked by racist hobos, and that I lost my mole in a car accident.

The reason I wrote this post is because I realized that I'm not the only one that's been through this type of thing. There are a lot of scary things out there: Jinns, demon-girls, Republicans...just make sure to stay on the straight path. Don't let the evils of this world make you fall into stupid things. And remember, you are not alone.

I know I haven't blogged in awhile, but I feel that there is an important issue that I want to draw attention to. It is statically proven that every 90 minutes, a beautiful girl is diagnosed with Getting with a DoucheBag. The causes of GDB include insecurity, alcohol, jealousy of her friends, pressure from her parents to get married, and mental instability. Please take a few minutes out of your day and spread the word. With your help, we can stop GDB altogether.

To all the women out there, especially Pakistani ones, I have a modest request: PLEASE STOP BEING CRAZY. Life isn't meant to be difficult and I've noticed that people make it a lot harder than it has to be.

Men tend to define themselves by how much money they make and women tend to define themselves by how pretty they are. Fortunately, men can make money...all they really have to do is get a decent degree and they'll make enough so that most girls will say yes. But women, unfortunately, can't control how good they look. Makeup can only take you so far. And that makes you constantly compare yourself to other girls, seek validation from the men around you, and worst of all, it makes you lower yourself to something you aren't. Also, it makes you torture the men around you, for example: me.

But I promise you, it's all in your head. Life is what you make it and as long as you are a good person and treat the people around you with respect, you will find someone amazing. There's no need to throw yourselves at every guy that smiles at you or get obsessed with the few nice guys that you meet. Don't settle for anything less than your soul mate. It will all work out, I promise. You WILL find someone and he WILL be amazing. You just have to be patient. There are 3.2 billion men in the world. Do you honestly believe it's impossible to find a decent guy with those odds?

I'm tired of seeing great girls around me settling for the first idiot that comes around just because they have this baseless fear of ending up alone. Stop buying into the "oh if I'm too old" or "I have a past" garbage. There's no expiration date on love and the best relationships in life happen when you aren't looking for them.

So to all my sisters out there, stop selling yourself short. The good guys want more than just a pretty face. Except me. My girl has to be at least a 9.5 and I don't care about her personality and she can't have ever even liked anyone else. But this applies to all the OTHER good guys.

Take care.