ANDER

Short answer: Doof is food backwards.

Long answer: 10 years removed from sperm form, my brother and I played with Legos, Megamen, Magnets, and Pokémon like most kids did pre-social media.

They all came together with a thick backstory, fully documented across eight PowerPoints. The unifying thread between every multicultural toy pairing was a pair of Turtwigs named Cpt. Underpants and Dr. Doofuspants. (We only plagiarized Underpants; Doofuspants came before Doofenshmirtz.)

These turtles had plot armor that would make Vin Diesel mumble growl. They created planets. They ran universities. They survived apocalypses. They defeated Mario and Sonic in the Olympic Games. They were our dreams in turtle form.

While my brother has since shed the Underpants nickname, Doof lives on, in my gamertag, the name of my vlog, my license plate, and the Turtwig tattoo on my left knee. My imagination hasn’t fluttered since, and that is no coincidence.

Interstellar
Ratatouille
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
What Dreams May Come
Whiplash
The Three Amigos
Honestly, Nosferatu (2025)

Add me on Letterboxd

Californication (excluding S7)
Peaky Blinders
Friends
Avatar: The Last Airbender
Deadwood

Shades
Shirt
Jeans
Boots

Hi. I’m Avani — which is pronounced oven-e, like an dating site for ovens. I love cooking up corporate lingo like “bandwidth,” “circle back,” and “ducks in a row.”

If you don’t have the bandwidth to get my name right, call me by my nickname, Barkha, which is not at all easier to pronounce. It means “rain” in Hindi, and symbolizes how I pour my heart into everything I do. 

You can see the splash in the way I take care of my family and my work and my art which sometimes feels like work. So as we circle back to my job title “Art Director,” it seems a more appropriate title is actually: “Heart Director.”

I could’ve probably splashed some ducks in a row but I didn’t want to drown them.

If you read my diary, you’ll see I’m on an endless quest—a quest that takes me to book stores, wine tastings, and dating apps for a chance at falling in like.

Voice note
‘I know most people think guitar is the sexiest instrument, but wait until you hear me play drums.’ Followed by me playing the PH intro.

I go crazy for red wine, charcuterie, vinyl, eye contact, cats, tattoos, journals, jazz clubs, game nights, bad movies with good company, Ratatouille, meeting your parents on the first date.

Typical Sunday:
Corona in hand
Florida Keys
Somebody drowns
Hopefully not me

I’m convinced that a conversation can be more stimulating than sex. Unless it’s during.

Audioslave – Audioslave
Pink Floyd – Wish You Were Here
The Black Keys – Turn Blue
The Smiths – The Queen Is Dead
John Mayer – Continuum
Sleepy Sun – Fever

Add me on Discogs

On A Pale Horse by Piers Anthony
Women by Charles Bukowski
Hunger by Knut Hamsun
Ask The Dust by John Fante
Once A Runner by John Parker Jr.

Call of Duty Black Ops 2
Rocket League (exclusively during COVID)
Guitar Hero 3
Hearthstone
My heart 🙁

The bloodiest of steaks
16 burritos
Any sushi roll ever
Oysters (raw)
Dino nuggies and fries

In 2019, I went to an establishment (I use that term loosely) by the name of Hot Chicks House of Chicken. It was a little out of the way, but the yelp reviews were mouth watering.. After a 40 minute drive, the chicken was as good as mine. If it was anything like the pictures, oooohhh boy, I was going to feast!

But no. The pictures didn’t matter. The drive didn’t matter. Happiness didn’t matter. After meticulously crafting my order with pickles, provolone, and love, I asked them if they have bleu cheese. To which they painfully replied, “wE oNLy caRrY rANcH.” I was speechless. How could they alienate half of their audience? It’s not even that ranch is bad, it’s fantastic with pepperoni pizza. But if I’m going to a chicken joint, I expect them to have both ranch and bleu cheese. Otherwise, they have forsaken their duty and privilege to serve half of all humanity! I promptly left.

They gave me blue balls for bleu cheese and clearly I’m still butt hurt about it.