Men Vs. Women
The Public Restroom debacle
The main divide between men and women when it comes to the bathroom is the perception of intended use. The men’s bathroom is streamlined and efficient – you never have to wait too long before you can take your slash. I attribute this efficiency to the fact that we can pee standing up, a huge plus – we’ve got our urinals and our stalls, no need for a nest, no need for squatting or anything like that… Unfortunately, this bonus of being able to be in and out tends to leave the bathroom in a state of disarray… We can pee standing up, but that doesn’t mean we can aim standing up or that we can throw the tissues in the trash, or even wash our hands. It’s the knowledge of how fast a trip to the bathroom can be for a man that makes him speed up through everything - we even avoid conversation because it’ll throw us off.. We want to get back to what we were doing before the bathroom..
Women, view the bathroom in a different light than men… See, they treat the facilities as a little safe haven for them… because of the fact that they require a stall, sometimes there’s more demand for stalls than actual supply, leading them to take advantage of this waiting time by reapplying makeup, adjusting their cleavage, farting (don’t deny it), and whatever else they need to do… Conversations are sparked up between complete strangers, cigarette smoking, stock tips – the bathroom is social gathering point for women… very interesting...
Maybe this has to do with our genetic hunter – gatherer makeup… Men were initially hunters, so they’re used to being quiet creeping around in places able to avoid conversation.. Women on the other hand, were gatherers, they needed to keep talking to keep busy and to scare away any frightening animals with their ‘chatter’… Maybe that’s why women talk so much in bathrooms and why men are so quiet… I don’t know.. Maybe I’m just pondering a useless thought…
Personal Bathrooms
A Man’s personal toilet has his mark on it… He probably has some dried toothpaste in the sink, his razor blade and shaving cream, one bottle of Shampoo and Conditioner (or he could just have a 2 in1 bottle), soap, and his basic and I mean basic toiletries, his clothes half in – half out of the laundry basket, a wet towel on the floor, probably some puddles of water from when he ran out of the shower because he remembered the toothpaste but not the toothbrush… The man usually has questionable hygiene concerns when it comes to “his” bathroom. Let’s face it, we’re a mess in the bathroom, our motto is: “If you can wipe it off then it’s clean.” But this is why a man rarely takes time to get ready (even pretty boys) – because there are no surprises: enter bathroom, shit, shower, shave, done (the order is interchangeable)… (I understand that men today have improved on this image and thanks to David Beckham and his metro-sexuality, men feel better about standing in line with their shampoo, conditioner, scrubber, rubber ducky, etc. – thanks 'Bu Brooklyn)
Women treat their personal bathrooms much MUCH differently… Before I go into detail allow me to remind you: Women have more utensils, instruments and equipment in their bathroom than you will ever handle in your life… they’ve got stuff to pluck, curl, straighten, highlight, accentuate, depress, pinch, tighten, loosen, shave, cut, sever, file, and some you will never learn about, never… don’t bother trying to understand it all, just don’t touch anything and you’ll minimize inflicting any pain on yourself… Women have shampoos conditioners for the different stages their hair goes through. Women have body washes, different scrubs for different parts of the body, moisturizers, face washes, cleansers, astringents, masks, wraps, paraffin wax, and so much more stuff… Women definitely do spend more time on grooming, and I have to say that: whatever you like… As much as I complain that women take so much time in the bathroom, I’d much have her feeling completely ready than me rushing her - you never want to rush a lady... The one thing that is inexcusable and I mean INEXCUSABLE is their hair getting clogged up in the shower drain – if you have ever had to extract this mess out of the drain then you know what disgusting mess I’m talking about… Ladies, for all your prepping and cleanliness, can’t you do something about the hair in the drain? Please? Oh and one more thing – what the hell is Patchouli anyways?
Pooping
Comfort zones: they are essential to pooping, some people have them and some don’t. Some people only feel comfortable with their own bathroom where they have total control of the environment. Some people need to mark their territory and feel comfortable with the place, it could take a number of visits to the 14th floor bathroom before you can get the right amount of privacy, comfort and solitude to poop right… I don’t need to tell you that when you need to go, you need to go, and that’s when your survival skills come into play - can you build a nest out of toilet paper if need be? Other people might go and locate the nearest oasis to them… maybe, it’s the men’s bathroom located by the main function hall at a 5 star hotel. Maybe it’s a secret bathroom stall on the 7th floor that no one uses. Maybe it’s your friend’s apartment not too far from work… ok now I really feel like George Costanza with his knowledge of the cleanest public restrooms in Manhattan… My problem with the comfort zone is that I poop in silence at home - there’s no one barging into the bathroom or making any noises three feet away from me… so how do you expect me to poop in comfort? Other people are out of the closet poopers, they go to the bathroom with that newspaper under their arm and everyone knows exactly what’s going to happen there… out of the closet pooping is quite liberating since you’re not constricted by any silly mental issues… I don’t want to make this generalization because it’s not right, but it’s too funny to not mention – someone once told me that the Germans build their toilets so that there’s a protruding piece of porcelain your poop hits before it reaches water… They say the Germans do this because they like to look at their poop, y’know to inspect it… “ooh there goes that corn that I had with my lunch” – do you inspect your poop? It’s all right if you do… Reading and pooping go hand in hand if you’re a guy… I don’t know why but women don’t like to read as much on the toilet.. Men? Hell we’ll do anything, read, crossword (I have a mug filled with pens by my throne), shave, brush our teeth – to us, we consider it multitasking to women, they consider it weird…
Men and their Privacy
Going back to my ‘men in bathrooms’ point and borrowing a little from Dave Barry, I’d like to bring your attention to the urinal location quandary, a very interesting observation/experiment…. Lets say there are five urinals in a bathroom (A-E). A guy walks into the bathroom looking to take a slash, he will immediately move to one of end urinals, (A or E, lets say A in this case) because he doesn’t want anyone next to him.. Someone else walks into to pee, now he sees 4 free urinals, yet due to his male nature, I’m willing to bet he’ll take the farthest Urinal from A, Urinal E… This is because there’s plenty of space between him and the dude at Urinal A. Now lets assume someone else walks into the toilet and there’s only 5 urinals and both on either end are occupied (A & E), this leaves pisser #3 with B, C, or D – but if you haven’t guessed it, he’s going to choose C because then he’s leaving a Urinal on either side as a buffer zone between the other two guys on either side of him… If another guy walks in to take a leak, then his arrival disrupts the pattern and he needs to squeeze in and take B or D – OR… he’ll use a stall or wait till someone else finishes to go back an enjoy at least a 1 urinal buffer zone. It just has to do with this privacy issue, but if you can keep a urinal buffer zone, you will always do it, even if it means having to bypass a free urinal for one a couple of steps away to satisfy your buffer requirement. If you’re a guy, pay attention to this bathroom urinal law, it really works, why? I don’t know but notice next time nature calls, the urinal buffer zone is essential to private peeing… There are some catches to men’s urinal law: if the urinal stinks, has vomit in it, it just too disgusting to use, then you will forgo the buffer zone for a clean place to pee…
Final Words
I can’t believe I actually wrote something about this… not really something you normally talk about, but something we all think about… I guess I’m just thinking aloud… maybe I should stay quiet..
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Argentine Asado (Good Global Eating)
One of the best barbeques I’ve been fortunate enough to sample has to be an Argentinean Asado… I know this is already going to inflate their ready to burst egos (che boludo), but it’s true, dem Argies really know how to cook meat. Through the guidance of some cool gauchos I’ve come to understand how to pick the choicest cuts, the secrets of doneness, taming the flame, feeling & feeding the fuel, patience, enjoying the moment, and letting that smell of cooked meat waft through your nostrils and just linger there…
A couple of notes on Argentine Grilling… Have you ever inspected a raw steak close up? Do you see those white lines running across the meat, that’s actually intra-muscular fat called marbling. “Classy” Continental cooking always wants you to pick steaks with even marbling, because they believe the cut will be tender and as the fat melts while you cook the steak, it’ll naturally baste the meat for you… Argentine cooking does take marbling into consideration but is more about the tender meaty sirloin & tenderloin… Another very peculiar note of mention is the way the Argies like their ribs.. They actually have the butcher cut through the bone and produce strips of ribs.. So you’ll have a long strip of: meat, then a piece of bone, then meat, then bone, and so on and so forth. There’s no marinade except olive oil, salt and pepper – this is because you're meant to serve your meat with Chimmichurri (will explain) sauce. I like to eat my steaks with wholegrain mustard, maybe you do too... Bread is usually on the table to make you a sandwich from the bbq if you like, and the veggies are limited to a couple of simple salads… The emphasis is on the meat, the salads are just there to cleanse your palette between the different types of meat… Empanadas (Turnovers) are also served at Asados (but I'll have another post for that, discussing the debate between the corn flour or regular flour empanoolees)...
Chefs will always tell you only flip the steak once, or you can’t do this or that, or don’t prod… hogwash.. That’s just people telling you what to do… There are some basic principles that you need to adhere to, but everything else is relative and open to tweaking. One of the main aspects of grilling is that you need two heat sections on your grill, direct and indirect heat. You want a section of the grill where you can sear and properly cook your meat on the outside (direct) and a place on the grill where your meat can cook from the inside (indirect)… apart from that, flipping more than once (although I try to limit my flipping), checking for doneness, voodoo dances in front of the flame, that’s all optional…
The Argies don’t really care for bbq marinades and condiments, they have their own majestic sauce: Chimmichurri. This sauce is what does it for me, the entire meal revolves around the adaptability of this sauce, able to go with: bread, sausages, ribs, steak, whatever you like… Basically, take a lot of parsley, chop it up, add vinegar (white or balsamic), oregano, salt pepper, top it off with olive oil, mix it up and then let it sit… Don’t be afraid to experiment with types of vinegar or other spices to add.. Just don’t deviate from “a lot of parsley, vinegar and olive oil” and you’ll be fine…
Once you have your fire going (basic rule: hand needs to 6 inches from the fire for a couple of seconds max), and the sangria is flowing then you start the Asado… First up are the appetizers: Chorizo or any other sausages you prefer. Never forget to puncture the Chorizo with a fork to let the grease inside the sausage seep out.. There have been cases where the chorizo has exploded and sent hot sausage grease all over the cooking space, so watch out (I think that’s the Argentinean boy scout motto when it comes to grilling, I’ve heard that 4 different times from 4 different people – it’s like look both ways before you cross the street, except with the Argies, it’s fork the chorizo before you throw it on the grill)… grill up the sausages and serve them anyway you want: sliced, whole… I like to slice them down the center lengthwise, tear off a piece of bread lay on some chimmichurri, making myself a sandwich affectionately known as “Chori-pan.”
Next up is Provoleta… ok I believe this is just Provolone Cheese thrown on the grill… Basically, layer thick slices of Provolone cheese in a skillet or one of those little aluminum trays, dribble a little olive oil and some oregano and throw it on the grill… the heat will melt the cheese and then you take your bread and scoop up the melted cheese and enjoy… So simple, yet so delicious…
Enough with the teasing appetizers… Let’s move on the Carne… first up are the ribs… Just like I mentioned above, the ribs are cut lengthwise through the bone with around a 3 inch width… You throw these long strips on the grill and just wait… Thanks to my carnivorous little sister, I’ve taken a huge liking to ribs, but served the American way, where you eat the meat off the bone and have the whole rack drowning in bbq sauce… Honestly, the Asado ribs look really appetizing because you’ve got some cooked meat then a piece of bone, then some more cooked meat, it just looks cool.. With the Chimmichurri spooned on top, euuuf…
The steak is the piece de resistance of the Asado… The Boludos do nothing to their steak except rub it with salt and pepper. The GF and I developed the “slice mini pockets into the steak and stuff them with chunks of garlic” technique – a garlic burst of flavor – which totally works but you can do it anyway you want. Whatever way you opt to cook your meat, follow these rules: Leave your meat on the direct heat section of the grill to let it sear from the outside and then flip… Don’t let it totally cook from the outside; you just want to get some nice grill marks and seal it, trapping the juices inside the meat… Move the steak to an indirect heat section on the grill, to let it slowly cook from the inside… As a rule, I cook all my steaks medium (middle of the line) for people; I’m not going to tell you that Medium rare is the way to go (even though it really is), you can have your steak anyway you like it… but if you tell me you want it well done, I’m still going to give it to you medium – believe me it tastes better than a dried steak… I digress, anyways you’ve just cooked your steak to the desired level of doneness… what now? Well now you wait… the outside is perfectly seared with nice grill marks, the inside has slowly cooked, but the juices are floating inside the steak.. You need to let the steak rest a bit (around 3-5 minutes from taking it off the grill), just to let the juices settle, the cooking process slow down and allow the meat to adjust to its new life as a steak. Once you assemble the steak on your plate, take a couple of spoonfuls of chimmichurri and lay it on… Slice through that steak revealing the different colors and degrees of cooking… the outside is nicely done and grilled, while the center is pink and soft, with the juice from the steak trickling onto your plate. The chimmichurri sauce is just the right accompaniment to the meat – vinegar, parsley and olive oil: it beats any steak sauce any day…
Savoring every bite, you slowly continue to devour your steak, spooning on more chimmichurri, and having that “ohh wow, this is so perfect right now “ expression… That’s what I love about steak, if done right, the meat does on a number on your taste buds that can forever change your views on life.. You carnivores know exactly what I’m talking about
More meat is grilled, more wine is poured, more laughs are shared and more people relax. Communal cooking is always fun, and with the right drivers – you’ve got the right evening. You don’t understand how many good nights have all started off with a trip to the butcher to buy some steak, or dividing up the responsibilities of the Asado…
One of the few moments a man really feels like a man is when he’s standing in front of the fire with the dead carcass of an animal he’s going to devour cooked by his own hands…
If you want to top off the evening in true Argie Fashion: then you must indulge your sweet tooth in Alfajores Cookies... these babies are individually wrapped creme filled cookies and one is usually enough to keep you at bay... The chocolate flavored ones are pretty delicious, but I need to go with the Dulce De Leche as my personal favorite - woooooooweeeeeee, now that's an evening I could definitely do with...
A couple of notes on Argentine Grilling… Have you ever inspected a raw steak close up? Do you see those white lines running across the meat, that’s actually intra-muscular fat called marbling. “Classy” Continental cooking always wants you to pick steaks with even marbling, because they believe the cut will be tender and as the fat melts while you cook the steak, it’ll naturally baste the meat for you… Argentine cooking does take marbling into consideration but is more about the tender meaty sirloin & tenderloin… Another very peculiar note of mention is the way the Argies like their ribs.. They actually have the butcher cut through the bone and produce strips of ribs.. So you’ll have a long strip of: meat, then a piece of bone, then meat, then bone, and so on and so forth. There’s no marinade except olive oil, salt and pepper – this is because you're meant to serve your meat with Chimmichurri (will explain) sauce. I like to eat my steaks with wholegrain mustard, maybe you do too... Bread is usually on the table to make you a sandwich from the bbq if you like, and the veggies are limited to a couple of simple salads… The emphasis is on the meat, the salads are just there to cleanse your palette between the different types of meat… Empanadas (Turnovers) are also served at Asados (but I'll have another post for that, discussing the debate between the corn flour or regular flour empanoolees)...
Chefs will always tell you only flip the steak once, or you can’t do this or that, or don’t prod… hogwash.. That’s just people telling you what to do… There are some basic principles that you need to adhere to, but everything else is relative and open to tweaking. One of the main aspects of grilling is that you need two heat sections on your grill, direct and indirect heat. You want a section of the grill where you can sear and properly cook your meat on the outside (direct) and a place on the grill where your meat can cook from the inside (indirect)… apart from that, flipping more than once (although I try to limit my flipping), checking for doneness, voodoo dances in front of the flame, that’s all optional…
The Argies don’t really care for bbq marinades and condiments, they have their own majestic sauce: Chimmichurri. This sauce is what does it for me, the entire meal revolves around the adaptability of this sauce, able to go with: bread, sausages, ribs, steak, whatever you like… Basically, take a lot of parsley, chop it up, add vinegar (white or balsamic), oregano, salt pepper, top it off with olive oil, mix it up and then let it sit… Don’t be afraid to experiment with types of vinegar or other spices to add.. Just don’t deviate from “a lot of parsley, vinegar and olive oil” and you’ll be fine…
Once you have your fire going (basic rule: hand needs to 6 inches from the fire for a couple of seconds max), and the sangria is flowing then you start the Asado… First up are the appetizers: Chorizo or any other sausages you prefer. Never forget to puncture the Chorizo with a fork to let the grease inside the sausage seep out.. There have been cases where the chorizo has exploded and sent hot sausage grease all over the cooking space, so watch out (I think that’s the Argentinean boy scout motto when it comes to grilling, I’ve heard that 4 different times from 4 different people – it’s like look both ways before you cross the street, except with the Argies, it’s fork the chorizo before you throw it on the grill)… grill up the sausages and serve them anyway you want: sliced, whole… I like to slice them down the center lengthwise, tear off a piece of bread lay on some chimmichurri, making myself a sandwich affectionately known as “Chori-pan.”
Next up is Provoleta… ok I believe this is just Provolone Cheese thrown on the grill… Basically, layer thick slices of Provolone cheese in a skillet or one of those little aluminum trays, dribble a little olive oil and some oregano and throw it on the grill… the heat will melt the cheese and then you take your bread and scoop up the melted cheese and enjoy… So simple, yet so delicious…
Enough with the teasing appetizers… Let’s move on the Carne… first up are the ribs… Just like I mentioned above, the ribs are cut lengthwise through the bone with around a 3 inch width… You throw these long strips on the grill and just wait… Thanks to my carnivorous little sister, I’ve taken a huge liking to ribs, but served the American way, where you eat the meat off the bone and have the whole rack drowning in bbq sauce… Honestly, the Asado ribs look really appetizing because you’ve got some cooked meat then a piece of bone, then some more cooked meat, it just looks cool.. With the Chimmichurri spooned on top, euuuf…
The steak is the piece de resistance of the Asado… The Boludos do nothing to their steak except rub it with salt and pepper. The GF and I developed the “slice mini pockets into the steak and stuff them with chunks of garlic” technique – a garlic burst of flavor – which totally works but you can do it anyway you want. Whatever way you opt to cook your meat, follow these rules: Leave your meat on the direct heat section of the grill to let it sear from the outside and then flip… Don’t let it totally cook from the outside; you just want to get some nice grill marks and seal it, trapping the juices inside the meat… Move the steak to an indirect heat section on the grill, to let it slowly cook from the inside… As a rule, I cook all my steaks medium (middle of the line) for people; I’m not going to tell you that Medium rare is the way to go (even though it really is), you can have your steak anyway you like it… but if you tell me you want it well done, I’m still going to give it to you medium – believe me it tastes better than a dried steak… I digress, anyways you’ve just cooked your steak to the desired level of doneness… what now? Well now you wait… the outside is perfectly seared with nice grill marks, the inside has slowly cooked, but the juices are floating inside the steak.. You need to let the steak rest a bit (around 3-5 minutes from taking it off the grill), just to let the juices settle, the cooking process slow down and allow the meat to adjust to its new life as a steak. Once you assemble the steak on your plate, take a couple of spoonfuls of chimmichurri and lay it on… Slice through that steak revealing the different colors and degrees of cooking… the outside is nicely done and grilled, while the center is pink and soft, with the juice from the steak trickling onto your plate. The chimmichurri sauce is just the right accompaniment to the meat – vinegar, parsley and olive oil: it beats any steak sauce any day…
Savoring every bite, you slowly continue to devour your steak, spooning on more chimmichurri, and having that “ohh wow, this is so perfect right now “ expression… That’s what I love about steak, if done right, the meat does on a number on your taste buds that can forever change your views on life.. You carnivores know exactly what I’m talking about
More meat is grilled, more wine is poured, more laughs are shared and more people relax. Communal cooking is always fun, and with the right drivers – you’ve got the right evening. You don’t understand how many good nights have all started off with a trip to the butcher to buy some steak, or dividing up the responsibilities of the Asado…
One of the few moments a man really feels like a man is when he’s standing in front of the fire with the dead carcass of an animal he’s going to devour cooked by his own hands…
If you want to top off the evening in true Argie Fashion: then you must indulge your sweet tooth in Alfajores Cookies... these babies are individually wrapped creme filled cookies and one is usually enough to keep you at bay... The chocolate flavored ones are pretty delicious, but I need to go with the Dulce De Leche as my personal favorite - woooooooweeeeeee, now that's an evening I could definitely do with...
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Ptown, Massachusetts
A fishing village comprising of Portuguese immigrants, a rest stop for Pirates, a famous art colony with it’s picturesque landscapes, and today’s Gay summer capital of America. Located at the tip of Cape Code in Massachusetts, Provincetown retains its place as a major part of American history – from every single aspect…
You’re probably wondering why the hell is he writing about a gay town? Well let me tell you, I have a close relationship with this gay town starting off with a trip down with my family many years ago and continuing almost every summer till I left to come back here… Vacationing one summer with my family, we ended up on Massachusetts’ summer getaway: Cape Cod… This is just a beautiful cape that extends into the Atlantic Ocean, filled with beach towns, summer life, ice cream parlors, just like it is in the movies… You’ve got little cottages spread out, the Kennedy’s and their summer compound in Hyannis, antiquing expeditions that could go on for days, mouthwatering seafood, sand dunes, beaches, and that coastal region feel to the place. The Cape has its year round inhabitants, but the summer months is when the seasonal dwellers come, businesses thrive off tourists, and life is busy… Anyways, back to my story: Bahraini family on Cape Cod, sticking out like a sore thumb, mom’s busy visiting antique stores, buying woman’s suffrage plates and memorabilia (you rock mami)… My dad’s checking out artwork, antiques and pocket watches to add to his collection. And there we were: 4 kids ranging from grade school to college student, just enjoying being on holiday… Asking around, some tourist center tells us we need to check out Provincetown, so we pile up into our rented van (I told you we stuck out like a sore thumb) and off we go… driving up to Ptown, you can actually see the coastline and get a feel of the “map view” of the place, sand dunes and little cottages adorning the coastline. Driving up to a public parking lot, we encounter two men holding hands and strolling by.. My mother, being the slightly traditional person she is, and for being a Bahraini woman never to have visited gaytown USA, wonders why they’re holding hands (Mind you, this is all happening sometime in the very early 90s – very early, when homosexuality wasn’t as publicly tolerated as it is now)… My brother then reassures her that “this is America, it’s not Bahrain – you will see men acting affectionate towards each other, it’s normal”… We park the car, and start making our way to the town center… Along the walk, we encountered more men holding hands, women holding hands, groups of people together, men wearing sarongs coming from the beach, kisses being exchanged… We apprehensively made our way to the town center, cursing the tourist center guide that recommended Ptown to us...
The cozy feel of Commercial street is unrivalled, small narrow streets with shops of all kinds with people walking in and out of trendy designer shops, galleries, fetish-o-ramas, bakeries, everything… We soon find out that not only are we sticking out like sore thumbs, we’re a minority in a minority’s safe haven.. Arab family in a Gay town? The next 30 minutes of lost wanderings were filled with moments of “What the hell are we doing here? Why are those two men kissing? SO MANY GAY PEOPLE! Is that a man or a woman in the evening gown?” After our initial freak out and with a little help from the tourist guidebook, we soon discover we have entered Provincetown, where Gaydom reigns… Not to have wasted an hour in driving up here, my parents decide to tromp along the streets of Ptown and see what all this fuss is about… It wasn’t long before the ‘rents discovered a bunch of starving artists and the wonderful world of extremely beautiful and very affordable artwork… Galleries galore, street performers, weird shops, restaurants, we ended up having the best time a straight family could possibly have… Heading back to our rented holiday abode, my parents made a pledge that they will visit Ptown every year to purchase their paintings, dine at the most delicious restaurants, and be around the insanity and the fun…
Soon after that, every summer we made our way to Boston, my parents would rent a car just to drive 3 hours each way to Provincetown to enjoy their little gay gem in the western hemisphere… We went on whale watches, learned about the pirates, my mother would buy bags and bags of saltwater taffy, walks on the beaches, taking in the quaintness of it all, strolls on their narrow streets, taking pictures of the beautiful cottages, visiting the different monuments… everything… I’m not saying we didn’t see some weird shit, because every single member of my family can tell you of something totally weird they saw in that little town – but it was all about the experience, not about infringing on someone’s personal space or freedom… We all built a lasting relationship with that town, and it really helped us with accepting people for who they are… My parents were so in love with Ptown, that they actually started inviting their friends from Bahrain who were visiting in the area… (Having had a couple of their kids study in Massachusetts, my parents have become seasoned New Englanders, they know where to take you for this and that, shopping, sight seeing, good Vermont Cheddar, everything)… The mistake they made is sometimes insisting on bringing their friends (and sometimes, less open minded friends) with them to Ptown… I don’t have to tell you that it wasn’t that enjoyable…
We weren’t the only people to fall in love with Ptown… Apart from the fact that some of the greatest artists in the 20th century used to hang out there, Khalil Gibran used to party there during the 50s, Al Jafee (a cartoonist from mad magazine) lived there, and so many more that I can’t seem to recollect right now… The year round residents may have totaled a couple of thousand, but during the summer, that town had over 50 thousand residents. This was the Gay capital of the East coast: you had some of the most successful and talented people living in this one little town in the summer… Artists, musicians, chefs, Thespians (got ya), so many people living there every summer… Think about it, the best clothes you wear, the most interesting food you eat, the artwork you admire: the people that made that possible for you to experience have their own little getaway… Now imagine visiting that cultural center. Now imagine that cultural center is a beach town…
The other side to Ptown that I didn’t know if I liked or not was the looks you sometimes got from the gay community… It was like, “Hey you straight asshole, you’ve got the entire world to go stomping around, can’t we have our own space?” My reply to that was, “Fuck you Nancy, I’ve had a relationship with this town too. I’ve seen stores open and shut down over the years, I’ve swam in these waters, I’ve taken pictures and enjoyed these streets, I’ve done your afternoon tea parties that go on till dawn… we’ve made friends with residents only to find out they’ve died of AIDS the following year when we’ve come to visit. You sit here and don’t want discrimination, but now that the tables are turned you have to discriminate?” Sometimes I don’t blame some of them for feeling that way, but that’s not going to stop me from enjoying that place...
For those of you comfortable with your sexuality and are not fazed out by people doing whatever they want to do, I highly recommend Ptown… it’s a wonderful little summer town, with a great vibe rivaling some of the best cities on this planet…
You’re probably wondering why the hell is he writing about a gay town? Well let me tell you, I have a close relationship with this gay town starting off with a trip down with my family many years ago and continuing almost every summer till I left to come back here… Vacationing one summer with my family, we ended up on Massachusetts’ summer getaway: Cape Cod… This is just a beautiful cape that extends into the Atlantic Ocean, filled with beach towns, summer life, ice cream parlors, just like it is in the movies… You’ve got little cottages spread out, the Kennedy’s and their summer compound in Hyannis, antiquing expeditions that could go on for days, mouthwatering seafood, sand dunes, beaches, and that coastal region feel to the place. The Cape has its year round inhabitants, but the summer months is when the seasonal dwellers come, businesses thrive off tourists, and life is busy… Anyways, back to my story: Bahraini family on Cape Cod, sticking out like a sore thumb, mom’s busy visiting antique stores, buying woman’s suffrage plates and memorabilia (you rock mami)… My dad’s checking out artwork, antiques and pocket watches to add to his collection. And there we were: 4 kids ranging from grade school to college student, just enjoying being on holiday… Asking around, some tourist center tells us we need to check out Provincetown, so we pile up into our rented van (I told you we stuck out like a sore thumb) and off we go… driving up to Ptown, you can actually see the coastline and get a feel of the “map view” of the place, sand dunes and little cottages adorning the coastline. Driving up to a public parking lot, we encounter two men holding hands and strolling by.. My mother, being the slightly traditional person she is, and for being a Bahraini woman never to have visited gaytown USA, wonders why they’re holding hands (Mind you, this is all happening sometime in the very early 90s – very early, when homosexuality wasn’t as publicly tolerated as it is now)… My brother then reassures her that “this is America, it’s not Bahrain – you will see men acting affectionate towards each other, it’s normal”… We park the car, and start making our way to the town center… Along the walk, we encountered more men holding hands, women holding hands, groups of people together, men wearing sarongs coming from the beach, kisses being exchanged… We apprehensively made our way to the town center, cursing the tourist center guide that recommended Ptown to us...
The cozy feel of Commercial street is unrivalled, small narrow streets with shops of all kinds with people walking in and out of trendy designer shops, galleries, fetish-o-ramas, bakeries, everything… We soon find out that not only are we sticking out like sore thumbs, we’re a minority in a minority’s safe haven.. Arab family in a Gay town? The next 30 minutes of lost wanderings were filled with moments of “What the hell are we doing here? Why are those two men kissing? SO MANY GAY PEOPLE! Is that a man or a woman in the evening gown?” After our initial freak out and with a little help from the tourist guidebook, we soon discover we have entered Provincetown, where Gaydom reigns… Not to have wasted an hour in driving up here, my parents decide to tromp along the streets of Ptown and see what all this fuss is about… It wasn’t long before the ‘rents discovered a bunch of starving artists and the wonderful world of extremely beautiful and very affordable artwork… Galleries galore, street performers, weird shops, restaurants, we ended up having the best time a straight family could possibly have… Heading back to our rented holiday abode, my parents made a pledge that they will visit Ptown every year to purchase their paintings, dine at the most delicious restaurants, and be around the insanity and the fun…
Soon after that, every summer we made our way to Boston, my parents would rent a car just to drive 3 hours each way to Provincetown to enjoy their little gay gem in the western hemisphere… We went on whale watches, learned about the pirates, my mother would buy bags and bags of saltwater taffy, walks on the beaches, taking in the quaintness of it all, strolls on their narrow streets, taking pictures of the beautiful cottages, visiting the different monuments… everything… I’m not saying we didn’t see some weird shit, because every single member of my family can tell you of something totally weird they saw in that little town – but it was all about the experience, not about infringing on someone’s personal space or freedom… We all built a lasting relationship with that town, and it really helped us with accepting people for who they are… My parents were so in love with Ptown, that they actually started inviting their friends from Bahrain who were visiting in the area… (Having had a couple of their kids study in Massachusetts, my parents have become seasoned New Englanders, they know where to take you for this and that, shopping, sight seeing, good Vermont Cheddar, everything)… The mistake they made is sometimes insisting on bringing their friends (and sometimes, less open minded friends) with them to Ptown… I don’t have to tell you that it wasn’t that enjoyable…
We weren’t the only people to fall in love with Ptown… Apart from the fact that some of the greatest artists in the 20th century used to hang out there, Khalil Gibran used to party there during the 50s, Al Jafee (a cartoonist from mad magazine) lived there, and so many more that I can’t seem to recollect right now… The year round residents may have totaled a couple of thousand, but during the summer, that town had over 50 thousand residents. This was the Gay capital of the East coast: you had some of the most successful and talented people living in this one little town in the summer… Artists, musicians, chefs, Thespians (got ya), so many people living there every summer… Think about it, the best clothes you wear, the most interesting food you eat, the artwork you admire: the people that made that possible for you to experience have their own little getaway… Now imagine visiting that cultural center. Now imagine that cultural center is a beach town…
The other side to Ptown that I didn’t know if I liked or not was the looks you sometimes got from the gay community… It was like, “Hey you straight asshole, you’ve got the entire world to go stomping around, can’t we have our own space?” My reply to that was, “Fuck you Nancy, I’ve had a relationship with this town too. I’ve seen stores open and shut down over the years, I’ve swam in these waters, I’ve taken pictures and enjoyed these streets, I’ve done your afternoon tea parties that go on till dawn… we’ve made friends with residents only to find out they’ve died of AIDS the following year when we’ve come to visit. You sit here and don’t want discrimination, but now that the tables are turned you have to discriminate?” Sometimes I don’t blame some of them for feeling that way, but that’s not going to stop me from enjoying that place...
For those of you comfortable with your sexuality and are not fazed out by people doing whatever they want to do, I highly recommend Ptown… it’s a wonderful little summer town, with a great vibe rivaling some of the best cities on this planet…
Monday, June 20, 2005
New Bracelet: “You’re an Idiot”
Ok so Lance “I’ve seen Sheryl Crow nekid” Armstrong, decides to start off this new fad with these yellow plastic bracelets… Inscribed on the bracelet, as you already know is “LIVESTRONG”…. See Lance had testicular cancer and beat it (punning), so he forms this foundation to support survivors of testicular cancer… He wore the bracelet when he won the Tour De France, and pretty soon everyone started wearing them.. For USD 1, you too could own a yellow, fashionable article and still show people that, “Hey guys, I’m sympathetic towards testicular cancer survivors… and I’m cool like Lance.”
So what happens next? The world is awash in yellow bracelets: Athletes, Actors, businessmen, students, soccer moms, doctors, everyone was wearing this yellow bracelet… At first the bracelet carried a lot of meaning, it symbolized beating a horrible disease, it meant pushing yourself like lance did to win another Tour De France and break a world record… Pretty soon, everyone and their mother is wearing live strong bracelets, they even began floating around the profiteering market for USD 9 instead of USD 1…
It was not long before some other group gets the idea of getting pink bracelets for breast cancer, and then blue ones for some other disease, then black and white to stamp out racism, and then green for the rainforest, and then just plain white to end poverty, and then magenta for men who like pink, and then brown color to support diarrhea (IBS) sufferers … This bracelet phenomenon has just taken the planet by storm – a very tacky and unoriginal storm…
Walking around, you’ll see a bunch of people wearing these stupid bracelets… support, donate do whatever you want to do: I’ll commend that, but to walk around like you even care about supporting this cause? Please… We can spot you for the fake poser that you really are… This is not fashion, this is a fad, a very very overdone fad.. it’s served it’s useful life… Friends exchange them with other friends, people who can’t find the real plastic buy the fake ones.. The current thing is that you release these little plastic bands for any occasion.. Liverpool in Istanbul for the Champions League Final (sorry rf) - they need to release a bracelet. Lebanon and their new democracy – lets release some bracelets. Mike Tyson retired, lets release a bracelet to commemorate and charge people. What started off as a good idea to raise money for a worthy cause, has turned into a walking advertisement and a silly bandwagon way to make money… It’s gotten so bad that I actually saw a black bracelet the other day with the “Playa” inscribed on it… Why would anyone want to wear a bracelet like that? If you want to wear something on your hand, why can’t you go find one of those handmade bracelets? At least those weren’t made out of a mold…
It started off with you laughing at people unaware of the cause they were supporting with their bracelet – so then you’d have to criticize and ask “you bought this bracelet, but you don’t even know that you’ve contributed to support testicular cancer? What kind of a moron are you?” Then the moron wises up and then can state “umm yeah, it supports testicular cancer survivors – Lance Armstrong and shit.. Livestrong.”
Teenyboppers and their fascination with overdoing it to the extreme… now it’s cool if you show off all your bracelets.. so people are sporting around 3-5 different colored bracelets.. Now I’ll give you props over this whole bracelet issue if you were supporting Gay rights and the different colored bracelets on your arm symbolized the Gay rainbow… Otherwise, whomever came up with the idea of wearing more than one bracelet, should have to wear a t-shirt stating him to be the idiot responsible for this stupid piece of plastic on your hand…
There needs to be some accountability for this stupid fad…
If you do truly support these causes, then good for you… fight the good fight… I’m just poking fun at the people who’ve decided to take a good idea for a good cause and squeeze the profit and reveal it for what it really is: an expiring fad…
So what happens next? The world is awash in yellow bracelets: Athletes, Actors, businessmen, students, soccer moms, doctors, everyone was wearing this yellow bracelet… At first the bracelet carried a lot of meaning, it symbolized beating a horrible disease, it meant pushing yourself like lance did to win another Tour De France and break a world record… Pretty soon, everyone and their mother is wearing live strong bracelets, they even began floating around the profiteering market for USD 9 instead of USD 1…
It was not long before some other group gets the idea of getting pink bracelets for breast cancer, and then blue ones for some other disease, then black and white to stamp out racism, and then green for the rainforest, and then just plain white to end poverty, and then magenta for men who like pink, and then brown color to support diarrhea (IBS) sufferers … This bracelet phenomenon has just taken the planet by storm – a very tacky and unoriginal storm…
Walking around, you’ll see a bunch of people wearing these stupid bracelets… support, donate do whatever you want to do: I’ll commend that, but to walk around like you even care about supporting this cause? Please… We can spot you for the fake poser that you really are… This is not fashion, this is a fad, a very very overdone fad.. it’s served it’s useful life… Friends exchange them with other friends, people who can’t find the real plastic buy the fake ones.. The current thing is that you release these little plastic bands for any occasion.. Liverpool in Istanbul for the Champions League Final (sorry rf) - they need to release a bracelet. Lebanon and their new democracy – lets release some bracelets. Mike Tyson retired, lets release a bracelet to commemorate and charge people. What started off as a good idea to raise money for a worthy cause, has turned into a walking advertisement and a silly bandwagon way to make money… It’s gotten so bad that I actually saw a black bracelet the other day with the “Playa” inscribed on it… Why would anyone want to wear a bracelet like that? If you want to wear something on your hand, why can’t you go find one of those handmade bracelets? At least those weren’t made out of a mold…
It started off with you laughing at people unaware of the cause they were supporting with their bracelet – so then you’d have to criticize and ask “you bought this bracelet, but you don’t even know that you’ve contributed to support testicular cancer? What kind of a moron are you?” Then the moron wises up and then can state “umm yeah, it supports testicular cancer survivors – Lance Armstrong and shit.. Livestrong.”
Teenyboppers and their fascination with overdoing it to the extreme… now it’s cool if you show off all your bracelets.. so people are sporting around 3-5 different colored bracelets.. Now I’ll give you props over this whole bracelet issue if you were supporting Gay rights and the different colored bracelets on your arm symbolized the Gay rainbow… Otherwise, whomever came up with the idea of wearing more than one bracelet, should have to wear a t-shirt stating him to be the idiot responsible for this stupid piece of plastic on your hand…
There needs to be some accountability for this stupid fad…
If you do truly support these causes, then good for you… fight the good fight… I’m just poking fun at the people who’ve decided to take a good idea for a good cause and squeeze the profit and reveal it for what it really is: an expiring fad…
Sunday, June 19, 2005
Jordanian Mansaf (Good Global Eating)
I’ve met a lot of interesting people from all four corners of the globe and one of the subjects that always comes up in conversations is food. Different cultures could have different flavors and different traditions, or maybe they have the same dishes with the same ingredients tweaked ever so slightly to represent different tastes. I’ve been fortunate enough to sample a multitude of ethnic foods, from adventures in gastronomy to global comfort food, but the end result is always the same: a satisfied smile, a full belly and a good nap on the couch… Due to the hospitality of a wonderful Jordanian family, an Army of friends was invited to enjoy an absolutely delicious traditional nomadic dish called: Mansaf…
First allow me to explain the dish to you: Mansaf is a traditional dish comprised of three main ingredients: lamb, rice, and goat’s milk “Jameed El-Kasih”. The dish is normally eaten during the wintertime because it’s so heavy and filling, but that wasn’t going to stop me from enjoying this experience. Picture a huge round serving tray lined with Sh’rak bread (a thin Arabic bread).. On top of that bread, a mountain of whey-drenched rice is assembled only to be outshined by tender chunks of cooked lamb ready to fall off the bone, and generously topped off with toasted almonds- leaving you with a pyramid of food to devour. To the side of that dish, is the clincher for the entire meal: the goat’s milk or Jameed… Jameed is goat’s milk/ yogurt that is used to cook the lamb and then poured into a bowl to be served with the dish separately. I know what some of you are thinking,, Goat’s milk? The sauce is what’s used to cook the meat, it’s what you ladle on top of your plate, without it, you might not as well try the dish… (my own personal note: I think Jameed has Tryptophan in it: the amino acid found in turkey meat and laban (buttermilk) that makes people go to sleep)…
Mansaf day preparation (before): Thank god I had the day off, because there is no way I could have gone back to work after a meal like Mansaf. My internal weekend alarm clock woke me up just in time to take a shower and get ready… I stretched, limbered up, wore something comfortable and made my way to the meal…
My hunger and I arrived at the lunch ready, as had everybody else… people were making jokes about how they hadn’t eaten in days, others were asking questions about the dish, while the rest just patiently waited till we were all ushered into the dining room…
The dining room had a number of tables spread about with each table adorning a Huge tray of Mansaf… The women, with their delicate eating habits were provided with their own table to be spared the Neanderthal eating behavior of the men… Scanning the room for the perfectly situated table, I made my way to the table with no chairs where two Jordanian cohorts quickly briefed me on the traditional rules to enjoying the dish: Mansaf is to be eaten standing up, no plates: everyone eats from the same serving dish, and no cutlery except your hands “Bil Khams”. Not to pass up on the experience, I took my spot as we drew up our imaginary borders on the tray, everyone establishing where “his” section was going to be… And there we had it, 3 Jordanians, 3 Bahrainis and a Chinese Egyptian (I know, I know, it’s a long story) ready for their meal…
AND THEY’RE OFF!! The Sauce was ladled over people’s sections on the tray, sleeves were rolled up, a bowl of sliced onions in vinegar, and off we were… tearing off chunks of lamb with your fingers, scooping up some rice soaked in the Jameed and shoveling it all into your mouth to be surprised by how the simplicity of ingredients enhances the delectable flavors in your mouth… wow, wow wow… Some people spooned ladles of sauce on the rice, some gave up and picked up cutlery, some had to sit down… But we persevered… more lamb was torn off its bone, more rice was shoveled and then someone struck gold: the bread at the bottom… Soaking up the flavor of the rice and meat and getting soggy from the Jameed, the bread at the bottom of the tray was a hidden surprise to us all… Two cups were placed at our table, and one of the Jordanians on the table ladled some Jameed sauce into the cup and took a sip… A cultural tradition that I passed on, due to the diminishing space in my belly… I was focused on the tender meat that melted in my mouth… the rice and sauce that got my fingers all messy… the incredible feeling of satisfaction with every single bite – national foods carry a lot of history to them… You immediately understood the history of Mansaf, a nomadic dish: very delicious, very filling, very simple, and very nutritious.
One by one, people began to leave their seats/ eating areas… It looked like packs of Hyenas ravaged the trays.. Everyone walked out of the dining room with a satisfied drowsy look… the couch looked so inviting, but we were too many people eyeing up too little couches. I understood why the dish is mainly served during the cooler seasons, the food just rested in you stomach… Someone turned to me and mentioned cement… if cement tasted this good, then I’ll have to build my house on a full stomach. The only way I could properly describe this feeling is that Thanksgiving turkey day stuffed feeling (Hence the Tryptophan reference).. You’re content, full, drowsy, slaphappy, yet unable to move: the only thing on your mind is a nap and how good that would be… It wasn’t just me, everyone around me had that content “a nap would suit me just fine right now” look… I’m telling you, Mansaf will induce sleep into the most defiant of insomniacs; it should be registered in the journal of medicine as a possible cure…
Once our immediate resting period ended, and we smoked our after meal cigarettes, our hosts continued to spoil us with rounds of tea, coffee, and dessert – until we really had to say “please stop.” And there I was, propping myself up on the couch, trying to adjust my crooked satisfied smile and make conversation with people sharing the same look as me… I felt bad for the rest who had to go to back work after lunch, because for the rest of us with our day off – we could quietly head back home and do nothing for the rest of the day.
We thanked our hosts for a wonderful lunch and matching hospitality, and we all went our separate ways to a comfortable seat in front of the tv, a bed, a couch, maybe even the floor with a couple of blankets… Them Jordanians really know how to cook their food… I can only hope that you’ll be fortunate enough to try this delicacy, because this is an experience you cannot miss… well, unless you’re a vegetarian…
First allow me to explain the dish to you: Mansaf is a traditional dish comprised of three main ingredients: lamb, rice, and goat’s milk “Jameed El-Kasih”. The dish is normally eaten during the wintertime because it’s so heavy and filling, but that wasn’t going to stop me from enjoying this experience. Picture a huge round serving tray lined with Sh’rak bread (a thin Arabic bread).. On top of that bread, a mountain of whey-drenched rice is assembled only to be outshined by tender chunks of cooked lamb ready to fall off the bone, and generously topped off with toasted almonds- leaving you with a pyramid of food to devour. To the side of that dish, is the clincher for the entire meal: the goat’s milk or Jameed… Jameed is goat’s milk/ yogurt that is used to cook the lamb and then poured into a bowl to be served with the dish separately. I know what some of you are thinking,, Goat’s milk? The sauce is what’s used to cook the meat, it’s what you ladle on top of your plate, without it, you might not as well try the dish… (my own personal note: I think Jameed has Tryptophan in it: the amino acid found in turkey meat and laban (buttermilk) that makes people go to sleep)…
Mansaf day preparation (before): Thank god I had the day off, because there is no way I could have gone back to work after a meal like Mansaf. My internal weekend alarm clock woke me up just in time to take a shower and get ready… I stretched, limbered up, wore something comfortable and made my way to the meal…
My hunger and I arrived at the lunch ready, as had everybody else… people were making jokes about how they hadn’t eaten in days, others were asking questions about the dish, while the rest just patiently waited till we were all ushered into the dining room…
The dining room had a number of tables spread about with each table adorning a Huge tray of Mansaf… The women, with their delicate eating habits were provided with their own table to be spared the Neanderthal eating behavior of the men… Scanning the room for the perfectly situated table, I made my way to the table with no chairs where two Jordanian cohorts quickly briefed me on the traditional rules to enjoying the dish: Mansaf is to be eaten standing up, no plates: everyone eats from the same serving dish, and no cutlery except your hands “Bil Khams”. Not to pass up on the experience, I took my spot as we drew up our imaginary borders on the tray, everyone establishing where “his” section was going to be… And there we had it, 3 Jordanians, 3 Bahrainis and a Chinese Egyptian (I know, I know, it’s a long story) ready for their meal…
AND THEY’RE OFF!! The Sauce was ladled over people’s sections on the tray, sleeves were rolled up, a bowl of sliced onions in vinegar, and off we were… tearing off chunks of lamb with your fingers, scooping up some rice soaked in the Jameed and shoveling it all into your mouth to be surprised by how the simplicity of ingredients enhances the delectable flavors in your mouth… wow, wow wow… Some people spooned ladles of sauce on the rice, some gave up and picked up cutlery, some had to sit down… But we persevered… more lamb was torn off its bone, more rice was shoveled and then someone struck gold: the bread at the bottom… Soaking up the flavor of the rice and meat and getting soggy from the Jameed, the bread at the bottom of the tray was a hidden surprise to us all… Two cups were placed at our table, and one of the Jordanians on the table ladled some Jameed sauce into the cup and took a sip… A cultural tradition that I passed on, due to the diminishing space in my belly… I was focused on the tender meat that melted in my mouth… the rice and sauce that got my fingers all messy… the incredible feeling of satisfaction with every single bite – national foods carry a lot of history to them… You immediately understood the history of Mansaf, a nomadic dish: very delicious, very filling, very simple, and very nutritious.
One by one, people began to leave their seats/ eating areas… It looked like packs of Hyenas ravaged the trays.. Everyone walked out of the dining room with a satisfied drowsy look… the couch looked so inviting, but we were too many people eyeing up too little couches. I understood why the dish is mainly served during the cooler seasons, the food just rested in you stomach… Someone turned to me and mentioned cement… if cement tasted this good, then I’ll have to build my house on a full stomach. The only way I could properly describe this feeling is that Thanksgiving turkey day stuffed feeling (Hence the Tryptophan reference).. You’re content, full, drowsy, slaphappy, yet unable to move: the only thing on your mind is a nap and how good that would be… It wasn’t just me, everyone around me had that content “a nap would suit me just fine right now” look… I’m telling you, Mansaf will induce sleep into the most defiant of insomniacs; it should be registered in the journal of medicine as a possible cure…
Once our immediate resting period ended, and we smoked our after meal cigarettes, our hosts continued to spoil us with rounds of tea, coffee, and dessert – until we really had to say “please stop.” And there I was, propping myself up on the couch, trying to adjust my crooked satisfied smile and make conversation with people sharing the same look as me… I felt bad for the rest who had to go to back work after lunch, because for the rest of us with our day off – we could quietly head back home and do nothing for the rest of the day.
We thanked our hosts for a wonderful lunch and matching hospitality, and we all went our separate ways to a comfortable seat in front of the tv, a bed, a couch, maybe even the floor with a couple of blankets… Them Jordanians really know how to cook their food… I can only hope that you’ll be fortunate enough to try this delicacy, because this is an experience you cannot miss… well, unless you’re a vegetarian…
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Things that drive me nuts… Part umpteen…
The smell of feet in the sugar tin at the kitchenette at my office (some of the “not bothered by hygiene” employees like to use the same wet spoon to mix their creamer and then add their sugar to their tea or coffee – leaving a rotting cheesy foot scent - full scale toe jam) – thanks to my shifty fingers at Corporate coffee house, I’ve managed to replenish my personal sugar stockpile. The fact that Jan burger only opens at 8PM. The fact that Jan Burger have inconveniently located themselves in impossible to get to locations. Turning around in at my desk on a beautiful day to enjoy my sea view and seeing someone jet skiing or enjoying the sea – bastards, the lot of ya. The afternoon sun that goes right through my window and hits my screen blinding me, and then me having to explain why I’m wearing sunglasses at 5pm… The fact that now’s not the time to eat prawns in Bahrain cause you can get food poisoning and no one reminded me – my poor exit points… The fact that shops will have “incredible sales” yet still charge you 20 dinars for a pair of converse sneakers on sale – when they paid less than 128 UAE dirhams for them (that’s about 12.8 dinars – you should’ve taken the reduced sale price sticker off the sneaker you dumbasses- Yeah we all know who you are- stop ripping people off). The fact that I’ve discovered a cache of ultra-hip t-shirts online that wont accept a Bahraini credit card or shipping to Bahrain – COME ON STEVE- RECONSIDER… That Mohammed Salmeen has consistently let me down – I thought you had heart, every time you play, we disappoint… The damn ticking noise in the car… I’ve been continually lied to for the past year and a half and this came from someone I loved… Tabriz grills in Jidhaffs has the best grilled lamb chops and I’ve yet to try them… I have no summer plans… The fact that Chelsea FC have managed to flex their muscles all over the footballing world and the English FA have done nothing about it – yeah you pussies – up yours! The fact that I cannot find a decent pizza in Bahrain. The fact that I just lost 5 years worth of financial information cause I didn’t save – DAMN YOU TECHNOLOGY!!!… So many things – I can go on for hours….
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