Bahraini Rants

the gremlin in me comes out

2010-10-06T01:55:00.003+03:00

i have a problem when it comes to snacks.. it's not a problem as much as it's an addiction.. the only reason i'm writing this now is that insomnia is telling to stop being such a pussy - so i find myself infront of another screen.. i digress.. just for a little backdrop: i'm quite good about monitoring my eating habits: yogurt for breakfast, salad for lunch, soup for dinner, fit in a will timed run. leading a healthy lifestyle is not difficult. my problem only comes alive after i've showered and brushed my teeth and it's late at night.. waiting there staring at me right in my face.. hidden behind the pasta in the dry goods cupboard, the packaging taunts and taunts me.. before i know it, i'm about to destroy the hinges, and peeling back wrappers shoving one two three four sometimes give pieces of pastry in my mouth.. in each hand i carry two sometimes three pieces.. and then in a dramatization reminiscent of the ogre under the bridge, i wave my candy carrying hands to hide the tears of shame streaming down my face, and yell (with a full mouth i might add) "don't look at me!" - quelle horor..

dear reader, i am what you'd call a mogwai.. you can't feed me after midnight (solid rule people, solid rule), otherwise i'd turn into a gremlin.. in my case, i turn into a snack monster of epic proportions.. why i wait till the evening, i have no idea.. but there are a a few treats that i am unable to resist.. once placed in my household, i cannot conceive of going through my day without inspecting and sampling the finest in my humble abode..

for your reading pleasure, i have compiled a few of these treats that i cannot go without.. feel free to comment on agreements, disagreements, or your own personal candied de rigueur.

Baklawa from Tariq Pastries
Bahraini sweets (halwa) is part of our culture.. but one of the first baklawa pastry shops to open in bahrain was none other than Tariq Pastries. I am biased, i grew up eating the stuff, made by long family friends for generations.. but until you try the treat, just trust me.. they were the first to perfect the pastry nut syrup combination.. they were then the first to come up with the idea of dipping the pastry in milk and white chocolate.. often imitated but never recreated - a double layer tray of baklawa lasts about 2 (maybe 3) days in my place.. i have started bringing trays for the desk at the office here in london.. and it never lasts the week.. i could write a whole post about this stuff..

Havana Alfajores
Meringue sandwich cookies with dulce de leche and covered in icing sugar.. introduced to me by my Argentine roommate back in 2002.. my life changed.. it was years before i had them again.. until i was with mrs. rants roaming borough market that i found these cookies and bought two boxes.. needless to say, they're super rich, she might've had half of one, and i devoured two boxes.. i'd say try it with some coffee.. but who could resist?

Al-Rifai nuts
One of the best exports of the Arab world is Lebanon's Al-Rifai nuts.. Bahrain airport has a stand, and i cannot walk past en route to some sad country with no proper pistachios or cashews without picking up a kilo. it's very funny, but for us in the middle east, we laugh at the quality of nuts available in the west.. cashews in the supermarket here in london are a joke.. A canadian friend from bschool once credited Al-Rifai for being the best snack to have with a drink.. i cannot disagree.. the supermix is the way to go.. and if you cheat and have the cheese flavored cashews - well i wont tell anyone..

Kermani brothers Kaz
Iran, is home to the best nougat i've ever sampled.. individually wrapped with pistacho, the chewy delectable treat is easily consumed.. the box has a picture on the cover of (a young) old man Kermani with weirdish ears.. if you see that.. then you know you've got the real deal.. i can go through a box in an entire sitting, lying to myself over and over that this one was going to be the last..

the brownie to end all brownies..

special mention goes to my sister who has perfected the brownie to the point it's sinful.. again i'm biased.. but there's enough people who can corroborate this bias, so i don't feel so bad.. yarz makes the most delectable brownies that you forgive yourself for eating 12 pieces.. now if she'd only do this for monetary gain, i'd rather pay her for the brownies than use brotherly emotional guilt to get them..

unt, there you have it.. my kryptonite.. presented to you in a neat little post as a result of that medium latte double shot i had at 4:30pm (which i knew was a bad idea at the time, but went along with it anyways)..

music is my hot hot..

2010-09-13T23:33:00.002+03:00

I love my music.. I spend as much time in front of a screen searching for music as a pubescent boy spends his time jerking off. Part of my retail therapy program involves buying tons of cds. I grew up having different types of music shoved into my face as long as I can remember – parents, siblings, aunts uncles, friends, etc. I am meticulous about my music - And I am difficult.. I push music on my friends and if they don’t like it, I sometimes (and I’m not proud of this) get offended..

Rocknroll, blues, dance (and all it’s forms), world, jazz, big band, opera, hip-hop, classical, offensive, original and not forgetting obtrusive to over the top.. I listen to it all – with a sympathetic ear I might add.. per example: I fell into this thing for French house initially in 2000, but went back and listened to everything from Montmartre to Montparnasse. Muzo, a dj friend said “you’ll outgrow it”.. sorry bro, I’m still tuned in..

As a consequence of being a lover of music, I love music loud.. I have quite a lovely balcony (swingeth).. but I must pay homage and wonderful thanks to my neighbors for never giving me shit.. and believe you me, I’ve given them plenty of opportunities to give me plenty of shit.. I like to think, they love my Friday rituals and the good music.

Fridays, I come home from work, and if you can sense the night taking a turn for the terrific, open up the balcony, crank up the music and fix myself a drink (pastis with soda water – sorry max).. people watching with loud music, a nice drink of choice and it begins.. Breakfast on the balcony also requires music, but less invasive so early in the morning.. hans zimmer’s compositions on the True Romance soundtrack is something of itself..

By stroke of pure luck – I have a fantastic group of incredibly gifted friends who are musicians.. yours truly penned a classic comedic tragedy of a ballad about the trials and tribulations of mohin, the guy who used to work at the shabab’s gahwa (Beirut coffee shop – “Il Safra” {yellow} – only because everytime they’d paint the walls inside white, all the smoke from the sheeshas would turn the walls yellow).. it was a big hit.. diversion.. back on track.. late late nights on a series of instruments coordinated yelling into microphones.. special mention to the talented ones..

There are certain moments in our lives that connect you with a performance and you have an experience of a lifetime. Music, whether it’s the local cover band or the latest sensation – it all sounds good live. Go see your favorite bands live, it’s one of the coolest experiences you can ever initiate..

I conclude this random but themed non sequitur with the mix tape.. everyone loves the mixtape – the highschool car tape, the girlfriend, the breakup, the no reason.. labeling, the names, the memory of a time or a specific night of rumbustifications..

The narrative saga of the afghan kitchen..

2010-08-12T23:44:00.002+03:00

Tucked and almost invisible to the naked eye in a hidden bend on Upper Street by the Islington green rests a recognizable name to residents – the afghan kitchen. A mom and pop operation that serves delectable (I miss that word) ethnic curries with a nice pile of basmati rice – transplanting you to the bosoms of comfort food heaven (that is if you’re from that part of the world where you’d equate curry and basmati rice to comfort food). Raved about by my brother and his wife for years, I decided to now give it a try since I was a short walk away.

Little did I know, that the Afghan kitchen would become the thorn in my side that I loved to twist.. the eatery took the form of an older bullying sibling, one that enjoyed making you jump through hoops for sheer amusement - all the time you've got this whiny voice begging him/her to stop bugging you. I tried in vain to locate the place, and yet I kept on missing it. Going back to the great internet brain, I’d google map it and yet again miss it.. thinking they might have closed or something like that.. The more I read about the place the more I wanted to go and eat there. My research had already prepared me to skip booby trap #1: cash or check, no credit cards.. mental note to self “make sure you have cash”. Easy. Then finally, one random nondescript day, I spot the tiny shop with the tiny sign that brought me to skipping about and jumping for joy! Alas, it was a Sunday, they were closed, and I had already eaten - but that did not matter, for i knew had the coordinates.

Picking the right kind of food coma day, I head down with parents (visiting) cause I couldn’t stop talking about said restaurant only to find it closed. We picked an acceptable mealtime hour to eat, and yet they had no hours of operation sign on their door, I did not know when they'd be open. Then just to pour pickled onions soaked in vinegar into my wounds, my parents both tell me that my brother must’ve taken them there cause they remember eating here years ago and it was delicious.. Argh.. booby trap #2: know the exact opening hours, no strolling in, you need to prepare.

Back to the internet, I find out their hours, and read more reviews.. they have this one dish that has tender chunks of lamb and spinach curry – that, I kid you not, gave me a little bit of a "is that your hands in your pocket or you happy to see me?" feeling. With every passing day, I continued to think about how good this lamb spinach curry would taste like.. i wanted to eat it, i wanted to dress up, rent a limo and take the bowl of lamb spinach stew on a night out on the town.. i wanted to get cozy with the bowl, up close and personal.

My breakthrough came when my sisters were visiting, I woke them up on a Saturday for lunch, told them where we were going, even called the afghan kitchen at 12:30pm to see if they’re open, they were, and off we went. Regaling them with maria1962’s reviews or how urbanspoon called it magical – I filled their appetites with enough anticipation that we were set for the lunch to end all lunches.. at 1:00pm the waitress saunters up the stairs to the table next to us to give them a bowl of that lamb spinach curry.. winking at my sisters I use our secret Arabic language to indicate that’s what we’re gonna have. She turns to us, hands out menus and then tells us that there’s no lamb spinach curry.. that was the last bowl.. What do you mean there’s no more? You’ve been open for 45minutes how can you run out so quickly? The place isn’t even that full?? She then tells me of a pickup order that took most of the curry inventory on hand..

I was left in a difficult situation.. the table next to me were just about to tuck into that which I’ve been fighting to have for a good part of four months.. how can I not have it? Thoughts of negotiating came to mind. Excuse me, sorry to interrupt.. yes? before you sully that bowl of lamb and spinach with your spoon, I have a proposition I’d like to make you .. you see, my willingness to pay for that bowl of goodness in front of you, is, and I’m willing to make this estimate with a fair bit of confidence, is way way way higher than your willingness to part with it. I’d like to propose a suggestion, what if I bought you and your companion lunch today.. you can order anything you want as long as I get to have that bowl.. my sisters thought I was ridiculous, but then again, I am. Just as I was about to lean in, I realised that I’d be the only person who’d be enjoying the curry, meaning that they (my lovely sisters) would also want to share all the curries, something I just wasn’t prepared to do. I called time on our short visit to the Afghan Kitchen, picked them up and marched them out to another restaurant. Either we all eat lamb spinach curry, or no one eats lamb spinach curry. And with the deflated head of the evil nemesis from an 80s cartoon, i whispered in a skeletor voice “you may have one the battle, but I’ll get you next time lamb spinach curry..” booby trap #3: call to have them reserve your order.

Weeks later, I eventually get to sit down and enjoy the curry for all its sublime home cooked goodness.. There was the tender chunks of meat bearing a series of flavors so complex and yet so familiar - there was the basmati rice that smelled so fragrant, - there were pickles that gave my spoonfuls a little zing- there was Bahrain in every bite.. I won, I finally won.. enjoying the delicious meal over and over again, I sidestepped the pitfalls and foxholes.. but it wasn’t finished yet.. there was still the 36th chamber..

Raving about the afghan kitchen to friends, we decide to do a full on, big family Saturday meal at Kam’s place. I was going to pick up the food and then hop a cab and lunch would be perfect.. having become well versed in the methods of the kitchen, I called 4 days in advance to pre-book.. my early stage planning was casually brushed aside by what I’d like to call developing world time (Arab time, Indian time, African time, anything to push back being timely).. I call back a day before the lunch, and ask them for 4 orders of the lamb spinach, 2 orders of the chicken, 1 order of the pumpkin dish and a whole mess of rice.. I get met with a hesitant response and the phone gets shuffled to mama afghan kitchen, who proceeds to tell me, that 4 orders of the lamb spinach ees too too much for you have you can only have 2. I fight back. What do you mean? I called 4 days ago and you told me that I should call the day before. She then countered with, my husband used to do all the cooking and now I do eet, eet take a long time to make and eet’s a popular dish. She finally throws the kitchen sink at me, I couldn’t deprive the other customers.. of course, I wasn’t going to have any of it.. listen lady, I’ve done everything I had to do.. are you in the business of selling food to customers? Well then I don’t see what the problem is.. I know you do large orders, and I don’t have a ginormous order.. so cut me some slack.. she finally agrees.. but not before the sky turns grey and a cackle of lightening crashes down on a street light in my neighbourhood.. .

Saturday rolls around.. I go to pick it up the food.. I meet mama afghan kitchen and she tells me that it takes so long to prepare the lamb spinach - that she and her husband do all the cooking and it’s a lot of work.. I thanked her for the food and her time.. paid my bill and went to get out.. the minute I step out carrying all this food.. it starts raining.. 3 minutes into me trying to catch a cab I finally find one.. To Mayfair my good man! And off we go.. but to make matters worse, there’s a whole procession closing off all the roads from my part of town to Mayfair.. the cab driver then tells me it best to jump onto the tube a stop, then switch lines, get to green park and then take a cab.. all I could see is Mama Afghan Kitchen last night, sweat dripping off her brow, stirring a pot of food chanting out loud: i call upon the blood of all my ancestors to make this meal for you as uncomfortable as I am in preparing it tonight.. and bam.. there I was running around the tube in London carrying two enormous bags of food, with the smell seeping onto the Piccadilly line and following me around until I got to Kam’s place. At one point I couldn't tell if the other passengers were offended by the smell or were going to mug me for the food. booby trap #4: always be nice to mama afghan kitchen.. thankfully once I got there, we sat down and enjoyed a fantastic meal and the tender chunks of lamb and spinach curry mixed with that wonderful basmati rice erased the saga I endured and brought back Bahrain with every single bite..

no one saw it coming but me..

2010-08-09T21:16:00.001+03:00

It is your typical west end night club.. A line of people that snakes around a corner and another jumbled and uncontrollable mass (refusing to wait) crowding the front door: demanding their reservations for a table (something nice by the dance floor), waving off the minimum spend requirements for bottled service, calling the door staff by their exotic sounding names: Viviana, Igor, Maximus… You know the type of place I'm talking about - with the short syllable name (Chi, Huu, etc) or maybe even the nonsensical mixed name "something foreign with something that makes no sense at all" - etoile dew.

Inside, the place has plush velvet walls with round booths for the tables.. Scantily clad dancers gyrate and swing around getting the attention of the hapless drinker, unable to make sense from the 20 pound drink at the bar or the fact that it's been watered down just for him.. Teeming with people, this exclusively classy joint is filled with those who have that money and those who want that (type) money. Girls and suits, girls and suits. Glancing around in the darkness, illuminated by the split second strobe that brings a brief glimpse of the pretty young things dancing at your table, you ask, why am I here? I don’t really feel like I belong here.. Who knows why you're really here, out on the pull, blowing off steam from a hectic work schedule, dragged out by a drunken friend/fiend, following the crowd - might as well make the most of it..

The night rolls on, and you get drunker.. A little loopy, you perfect your balancing act on the table, using a double magnum of the finest marketed vodka to maintain tightrope composure. The ability to distinguish cheeky from stupid becomes quite blurry and you're pouring vodka down your own throat daring fate to bring it.. A brilliant idea comes to you with where you decide to share it with the people around you.. First a friend who's just a clouded as you, tilts his head back as you splash alcohol into his mouth and on his Hermes tie.. A very pretty girl (as they normally are in a fine establishment such as this) casually passes by and you decide to rope her into your merriment and vodka fountain. You tap her beautifully bare shoulder with the utmost care of a gentlemen and she swings around with that perfect hair - and looks expecting a debonair with the highest level of instruction - only to find a baggy eyed, pasty suit trying to pour a double magnum of vodka down her throat with his other hand stabbing the air above with his flying dancehall fists..

Even in this type of darkness, you can see the look of horror in her perfectly done up face as she reacts to push the bottle away. In this unnecessary late night tugowar of a over sized bottle of alcohol, you end up splashing the overpriced moonshine on her dress and a few other irate people. The melee results with you winning the bottle but at the expense of breaking her nose with the base of your prize.. Now, just to make you feel like there's an even bigger pile of sh*t heading into the vicinity of your fortune, two very large gentlemen approach and yank you off the table with that type of realness and pressure that would make anyone squeal like a pig. It just so happens to turn out that the pretty girl who's nose you just broke in that unnecessary fracas, is someone way more important than you, and these two gentlemen are going show how much more important than you she is... And in that instant you get pulled out into the darkens of the club, outside the door to the back alley to get the beating of a lifetime in the lifespan of 60minutes… but thankfully, that's not me, I'm just the innocent bystander in the next booth over, bored with his night and decided the lead up to a disastrous night..

today was one of those days

2010-08-05T00:04:00.002+03:00

It’s been one of those days..

It started off with lunch..

I have a hectic schedule and operate at a rushed pace with everything having to happen at a quick, methodical and efficient rate. My only real break in the day is when I run off to get my lunch and [on] this day I wanted a sandwich.

The deli is normally an efficient single queue (very English) with about 4-5 sandwich-istas preparing your meal. You can normally tell the new hire from the veteran, [and/or other sentence connector] serving lunch to a bunch of problematic on-the-go people makes you a [sarnie] veteran very quickly (ohh polish boy with the fluttering ears I remember when you were bumbling about trying to layer the lettuce over the Branston pickle – look at you now, commanding the line and making casual conversation with your coworkers while making my lunch – bravo good sir! Bravo..)

While waiting in line, I spot one of the new guys move over to the side room running his hand under the sink, aka, he cut himself while making a sandwich. I anxiously watch him put anti-bacterial [gel?] on, then slip on another set of gloves and get back in line. By a crude calculation in my head measuring the time it takes to prepare a sandwich, the quick glances of the how fat the assembly line was at with the readiness of the sandwiches and how many people I had in front of me – I [realised] was going to get served by newbie von finger slice..

“next”

“you know what bro, I’ll just wait for the next person”

“but they’re all busy, I’m next, what would you like”

“no really, it’s good, I don’t mind waiting”

“you’re holding up the line, you don’t want me to make your sandwich?”

“it’s not that I don’t want you to make my sandwich, but I saw you washing your hand after what appeared to be a cut.. and if it’s all the same with you, I don’t want you bleeding over my lunch”

He raises his hand, “there’s no blood see? And I’m wearing a plastic glove”

“There’s a bunch of things I can’t see and that’s fine, I can’t see them, but I know that you cut your hand and I know that you don’t have a plaster on, and I don’t want you making my sandwich.. all I’m saying is if I’m going to be paying for my lunch, I’d at least want it to be hygienic – no offence”

Person behind me chimes in “yeah I’ll wait too..”

I got a dirty look today – I’m worried he’s gonna pick his nose and use that as a spread next time I order my sandwich from him.

my love for east london

2010-08-03T22:54:00.002+03:00

Every city has that split – the Rive Gauche Versus the Rive Droite. Uptown versus downtown – East Saar Road Versus West Saar road – it’s just how things are.. London’s very much the same, West London and its manicured gardens clean street and lovely preserved architecture versus East London’s piss stained alleys, graffiti and ethnic folk mixing it up with the artistes and addicts..

I live in central London, but to my friends out west, the E before my EC1 postcode clumps me in a grouping relating to the outer edge of modern civilization. And to be honest with you, that suits me just fine.. you see there’s lots of things I like about the east that you just can’t replicate, just like there are some fantastic parts of west London that you can’t find anywhere else.. this is not a critique or a comparison, it’s merely a tribute to the things that make me love anything with an “E” in the postcode..

The fact that…

Fashion is definitely born in east London and slowly starts to make its way west getting more and more toned down. Skinny jeans, over the top hairstyles, vintage outfits that making Notting hill feel a sell out, waxed up and wacky mustaches, sunglasses, pasty skin, no batted eyelids unless its to approve your look, fashion photographers roaming the streets, yes it’s hipper than hip. my favorite neighborhood couple are constantly dressed as though they’re stuck in a time warp from world war II but with a little bit of today’s edge: I see them in my supermarket with their perfectly time stamped hairstyles and matching era outfits - you just don’t find that anywhere else.. the caveat to this is that everyone you pass by looks like they’re a member of some indie band and office suits carry the same looks as endangered furs, but, I’d still rather this abrasive clash of unison then anything else..

The history just makes you want to soak it in: London’s one of those towns that’s got history in every crack and side street, but to me, the grime and gristle of London has more charm than it’s glitz and glamor. It’s all right Sherlock Holmes was meant to live on baker street and they weren’t exactly sure where because they switched the street numbering.. JACK THE RIPPER caused mayhem in whitechapel and that does intrigue me. Dickens based a lot of stories in my hood, that contemporary art in London really took a defined shape thanks to its east London denizens.

The crack addicts and alcoholics have well thought out stories with props when they ask you for money. It’s not just, excuse me can you spare some change, it’s a, hello, I lost my money on the bus coming to the eye hospital (he produces a patient admission card from two months ago) and need money to get back home.. or my personal favorite the arab guy who’s in a wheel chair because of bombs falling from the sky.. Weeks later I find him boozing it up with another bum all cracked out trying to stand up.. classic.. hats off to the prop..

The Music and Parties in the east rock : now this bit is completely my personal opinion, but it’s my piece so I’m quite happy to throw my vote out there. Getting to the location is always a bit dodge, with random questions being raised over the safety or legality of the venue.. but that’s soon replaced by the head bobbing and gushing over the fact that James Murphy is ripping into the microphones.. yes daft punk is playing at my house, my house.. and although I could say the ego’s checked at the curb side I have to say the crowd can be a little difficult and indifferent.. Also, special mention goes out to the pop up clubs (double club last year and the pop up pirates this year) that can only find space and licenses to throw their parties this side of town.. shazaam

the food cravings don’t stop. London’s a big town, and food is generally good if you know where to go (special mention to the taqueria on Westbourne grove).. from the Gastropubs that cook up the best 7 hour roast lamb shoulder or the goose fat chips, the pizzas at story deli, to the lamb chops at the original new tayyabs and all it’s graduates (Lahore kabab house and needo), to my secret sushi spot by a disillusioned nobu chef (aren’t they all?).. The food stalls of brick lane, borough and broadway markets with the food (mrs rants and her love for the raclette at borough market –its good) the hangovers that have subsided thanks to the variety of taste-ables to satisfy your pangs..

so that’s my love for the east

Return of the Rant

2010-08-01T22:34:00.002+03:00

hello..
i used to write here, but then i stopped.
i'm back,, intermittently, but back nonetheless..

it's been a little under three years since i last posted - i thought i was going to give this up until i found the time to write again.. so much has happened, the condensed version: i took a long break, went off to sell out to the man, learn about bidness in bidness school, enjoyed a carefree life on a series of continents and met a barrage of incredibly amazing people along the way.. sounds like a lot of fun, it has been..

i've been in london for the last year and a half starting my day when most people don't even contemplate hitting the snooze button.. it's been good, long, sleep deprived and incredibly enriching.. again, met interesting people and fell in love along the way.. so that gets you up to speed..

so i'm hoping to get back into the swing of things just writing whatever comes..

thanks for passing by.. don't be a stranger,

edu

Outtro of bahraini rants

2007-12-04T17:51:00.000+03:00

I never liked reading blogs that ended without a conclusion, so I wont do the same to you. I always felt that having read so much of this persons’ jamblings (jumbled ramblings, use it I don’t mind) a sort of explanation was necessary, some sort of closure, flightless birds finally free, or some cryptic nonsense like that. But nonetheless, like relationships teetering on the verge of being finished, something needs to be said …

A chapter in my life has just shut and a new one is about to begin, if I may, with little writing and explanation: it’s gonna be intense and draining, and I am seriously looking forward to it. I think we can all fairly say that I’ve lost interest in this blog, but not because I don’t like writing my thoughts out anymore. I used to write with a purpose in mind, and to be honest, I’ve lost that purpose. Doesn’t mean I don’t think about you all the time, it just means that I can’t be bothered to write and write and rewrite and hope that you’ll catch the secret double entendres and so on and so forth.

So after these few and far between posts, emotional cries for help, and many years of reading: I hope I’ll be someone you’ll remember fondly.. Yeah him Bahraini Rants, he was good, I miss him.. I wonder what he’s up to now? Do you think I should search for him? Maybe I should go back and read some of his old posts, I wonder if they’re still funny, and then you’ll go back read over stuff, remember me as that loveable scamp you secretly dreamt of, maybe cry a little since I’m no longer in your life & then seriously spend some time contemplating what went wrong. As opposed to, Bahraini Rants? Whatever, that was just a point in my life when I needed some form of enjoyment to rebound from whatever I was rebounding from. Let me go back to my life and to be honest he was never that entertaining to begin with… in the words of red, sneef…

So what’s next for me? Well that’s part of the reason I have to stop, I’m leaving this place, making the whole ranting from Bahrain kinda silly. I’ll be gone only for year to start, but maybe longer (all contingent on getting my visa approved), so hiphiphooray for me, too bad for the three of you that read this blog. I’m sure we’re still close enough for you to be getting emails from me, so if you really really like hearing my silly words, I’ll only be a send/receive away..

I’m not retiring my blog because I want you all to come back and visit.. it’s really been a wonderful experience writing and I’m hoping one day, I’ll be convincing you folk to sell me your souls, but until then..

À bientôt

siestas con pimientos de padron

2007-11-13T10:06:00.000+03:00

For weeks I sat there in front of the monitor reading the headlines hoping and praying. I analytically looked over historical data trying to come up with an intelligent conclusion, but alas, it was a house not meant to stand. Although my fastidious research on the dollar to euro and our incumbently painful peg led me to the brink of madness; as time came to board the plane, I brushed off any currency related worries and looked forward to the rioja and tapas.

Ibiza and the Balearics
Take away all the industrialized nightclubs and insane posters, the hippies, the clubbers, the djs, the bullshit and the hype, and you’re left with something incredible, a place with real magic, beautiful beaches, great food, lovely country side, and a laid back vibe that you just can’t beat. With the season wrapping itself up, I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed Ibiza if I had been during the shmack dab middle of hectic season, everyone was just so happy that things had calmed down and we enjoyed a nicer holiday because of it.

Pairing the refreshing waters with a gorgeous companion in a bikini, life just couldn’t get better. I’m not too sure what it is, but we both are much happier by the sea, and what better place to be happier than the beach on an island with fantastic views? However; in true European fashion, the nude sunbathing did catch us off guard. Walking along the beach searching for a spot, we were continuously surprised by the image of naked privates. Let’s setup there. Shit no, 7 naked Germans sunbathing and having a bbq on the beach, let’s just find another spot. I’m just curious, aren’t they worried about flying sparks? Crazy naked Germans and the burning bush. Although we couldn’t muster the nerve to skip the swimwear, I did start to get comfortable with the idea of a little skin on the beach, quite liberating to not give a toss about changing on the beach with no towel. It was good to feel the wind between my…

The sun and sand was lovely, but the chiringuitos came in all shapes and sizes: from the best seafood at es torrent, to the delectable choripans from a shack on aquas blancas. Wine was consumed with great laughter as we ate lunch on the beach appropriately taking our time. Short siestas that brought back the nonchalance and aioli that could make perfume stink. The no nonsense take on eating and culinary exploits brought back the basics of gourmandizing that we so appropriately crave. Having investigated and enquired, we found our relaxed and lavish meals with the right touch of sabor. The Paella was good, but I think I learned something quite important about myself this trip: I don’t like fighting too much with food.. Not a big fan of needing to stab, pierce, crackle and pop hard shells to get to a little bit of meat that you need to suck out. I don’t mind breaking a sweat trying to catch or cook my meal, just not while I’m trying to eat it.

Needing to introduce ourselves to an adorable almost two year old cherub, we packed up the car and took a short ferry ride over to the tiny island of Formentera, which for me was a haven for the soul looking to get lost. Much quieter than Ibiza, the laid back doctrine was lackadaisically stretched to the extreme. As the local economy, run by hippy juntas, everyone could do nothing but follow ensuite, a lovely experience for me since I was in that zone to begin with. The lovely unofficial motto that I have freely given them, “Formentera, do what you want, no one gives a toss.”

All roads lead to Madrid
Having done my research, I came to Madrid prepared with my list of cool hunting to investigate and neighborhoods to soak in. Needing the allure of a city to compliment our sun and sand, Madrid had everything we needed, enough art, enough politics and just the right amount of the sometin sometin we were looking for. Special occasions and reconnecting with old friends made the city just that more interesting and celebratory. As the standard operating procedure on our trips, neither wanted to waste time in a-typical sightseeing tourist traps.. Although we did efficiently hit up the “big three” (you can’t go to Madrid and not check out the triangular bastion of art). Luckily for me, my khormaloo is one of those people who can make you see things you would’ve never thought to see in a work of art and I learned to appreciate the masters. My one real flirtation was spent staring at an Egon Schiele that rightly demanded attention… if you’re wondering, Nouvel’s extension at the Reina Sofia is definitely worth your time, so’s the restaurant..

Spending time with the lads in Madrid was excellent; catching up over an Asado we all laughed and rejoiced in our reunion. Drinking in La Latina I cheered Kimi on as the Spanish Pride was just happy that Khamilton “la puta madre” didn’t win the Formula 1. Opting to ditch Serrano and the desperately hola’d out crowd, we armed ourselves with the Moleskine Madrid City guide for our hunting notes and city traipsing. Precisely cool in cheuca and fuencarral we found what we came for - random pieces here and there that Lagerfeld would be jealous of, yeah you heard me Karl…

One of the highlights of our contrasting city tour which included art, fine dining, sneaker hunts, cigalles, and Sunday tapas completed with a football match. With Athletico Madrid playing Zaragoza, we opted for the authentic fan crazed experience and headed over to the Vicente Calderon. Picking up a couple of beers we walked in for Khormaloo’s first game and were not disappointed. 4 goals (yes I saw Diego Forlan score), rabid fans, insults to the ref and later on discovering we were drinking non-alcoholic beer. Picking up an Athleti Scarf (cheers gin), I blended in with the crowd and even got a couple of Forzas from the fans (always feels good knowing that you can fit in with the rabid fans when you need to). Muchisimo gracias for the tickets alej..

All in all
Up and down the narrow streets of the enclosed dalt vila, we romanced in the moonlight. Breakfast in Porrig with a view to take your breath away. Early morning strolls on the beach and the newfound love for ibizenco hounds. Drunkenly negotiating a taxi driver to get off strike. Siestas in comforting arms with the sound of the med to lull you to sleep. Convertible driving and beach discovery. Thunderstorms and one star hotel displacements. Passable Spanish with a fairly good accent.. Spain was beautiful..

ishrig and cleansing

2007-09-06T12:20:00.000+03:00

Historically, the last Wednesday before Ramadan has always been a busy time in Bahraini homes… Bahraini’s, being the cool holistic cats that they are, cleansed and detoxed their systems to ring in the coming holy month properly. They used to drink a strange combination of leaves, roots and branches called “ishrig”, mixed up by the local Hawaj (apothecary) and brewed into a god awful drink to help cleanse your system. In other words, a diuretic with the devastating outcome reminiscent of a raging cyclone steriods, nice enough picture for you?

A couple of years back, right before the start of Ramadan, I jokingly mentioned to my father about wanting to cleanse my system before fasting. He replied with giving ishrig a try, and I said, why not. My why not was met with a very disdainful scoff and grave statement that will forever ring in my ears, “if you do take ishrig, you will not leave the house for a while, and you will feel pain, insurmountable pain”. He then regaled me with stories of his childhood on attempted escapes from the clutches of his house to avoid drinking the stuff. Let me tell you, the ol’man has a pretty high tolerance for weird herbal remedies, and if he’s adding a disclaimer to ishrig, then this stuff was pretty bad.

But of course me and my father have this very XY chromosome chest thumping dare double dare contest perpetually going on, and we agree to drink ishrig together and deal with consequences (a previous contest between us was betting the waiter at an Indian restaurant on how hot they could make their lamb vindaloo and then who was man enough to eat it all – end result, a very painful evening with no real winner). His claims of me not being able to handle it were met with my pointing out his old age and inability to re-hydrate fast enough.. In keeping with traditions and all gentlemanly rules, we set the date for the last Wednesday before Ramadan to cleanse our systems, and see who’s made of mettle and who’s a yellow belly baby..

The day of the test: the Ishrig arrives at our house in a sealed bag which looked as though someone walked through a forest, scooped up a bunch of leaves and branches and roots from the ground and placed them in a bag, dirt and all. The instructions were there and the ol’man and me decided to get ready. Brewed up for our pleasure, a massive jug of black water gets placed in front of me and I must’ve had this worrying look on my face because my dad let out a mocking snicker. A quick sniff of the jug and I pull my head back in disgust. It was as though someone fed a goat everything from spoiled fruits & vegetables, to meat that’s been left out in the sun, to tin cans that previously housed baked beans, to sewer style garbage; then cut the goat’s stomach open and that’s what you smelt, absolutely rancid. But this was no time to show that I was already considering chickening out, soldier on I must.

Two glasses poured in front of us and he turns to me, “listen, drink it all in one shot, the entire glass, if you don’t, you will not be able to keep it down…” Wrapping my fingers around the glass, the warmth of the recently brewed ishrig reminded me of how real this was. But after all this is a tradition of my country and I wasn’t going to live my life without having tried it once. Breathing from my mouth, I applied my lips to the rim of the glass and began to chug.. my dad, looking at me starts chugging too and his eyes widen with that frat boy look “oh yeah come on, lets see what you got frosh..” I cannot tell you how bad this stuff tasted because it was so traumatically horrible that it’s been blocked from my memory, but I did manage to knock a glass back. Wiping my mouth, remnants of some black stuff remained on my arm, the aftertaste was painful, but at least the hard part was over.

Then my father pours me another glass and the fires of fear get stoked once again. “what are you doing?” “there’s half a jug left, what do you think I’m doing, we have to finish this” “ you must be mad, I can’t do another glass, isn’t one enough?” “Come on, you want the experience don’t you? this is it, the experience is in the second glass”. And with that, I again feel the warmth of the glass on my fingers and again take a succession of deep breaths to psyche myself up. We start chugging again to see who can drink faster, but this time the aftertaste of the ishrig and the bottom of the jug sediment is starting to catch me off guard. Midway through my chug, I drop my head down and stop drinking.. He was right, the minute you stop drinking, the idea of throwing up becomes invitingly plausible… I don’t have to put up with this disgusting flavor, I could throw up, wash this all down with a cola and be fine.. But my pride got in the way and I had to be satisfied with one and a half glasses. I understood how traumatic this would be for a child having this forced down his throat back in the day.. so I gave up.

Victoriously forcing the final gulp of his second glass, my father wipes his mouth with his sleeve.. His bellowing laugh is enough to crush my hopes of triumph - yes he won the drinking ishrig contest, but I was still in this race, all was not lost, maybe I could rouse an upset with the final outcome, just maybe..

So we sat there waiting, in the living room, watching tv but not really focusing, both wondering when the turbulence was going to start. When the pain was going to come, and when it did, I traversed across the plains of detoxification cleansing with little ease.

I will spare you the details, because this is not an essay in scatology so to speak, but more about the experience. You will feel pain in your stomach as though someone was trying to squeeze your intestines into a ball and shoot some hoops. Your body will push out junk that has been in your system that has been there for ages and it will not smell good. Magazines, crossword puzzles, and lots of bathroom reading will help you through it all. Yes it was dehydrating, I was wiped out, the more water I drank the more water I lost.. But end of the day when everything was all said and done, and the sweat from my brow was wiped.. When I could actually sit down for a prolonged period of time without having to hear strange noises from my stomach, I looked over to my dad and gave him the winning thumbs up.. All his years of yoga and careful eating made his experience a lot easier than me.. He gave me a supportive nod and we vowed to take it easy with our male ego contests…

It was that day, that after many years of abuse, junk food, and other unspeakable acts that my tortured body was set free. I was lighter, I was happier and I was healthier. The journey was a tough one, but the end result was worth it all. Ramadan came and went, and I felt fantastic for quite some time.. Until the burgers and fries found their way back into my belly, and the processed sugars along with the preservatives and artificial flavorings...

Overall experience, I highly recommend this detoxification.. a little bit of history with a little bit of taking care of yourself.. I’m just wondering if I can relive the horrors and go through it again next week before Ramadan comes along..

Wooster Collective Baby!!

2007-08-27T23:01:00.000+03:00

strolling to daiso i stopped by and took some pictures of the coolest wall art in Bahrain.. Sent the picture to the wooster collective, and guess what? they posted it.. so yes, Bahrain is now in the archives of the wooster collective.. go check it out..

for those who dont know, the wooster collective is a regularly updated street art website from cities all over the world...

if the artist will come forth, we need to talk..

i'm thrilled..

Facehunted on Facebook

2007-08-23T11:31:00.000+03:00

By now I’m sure you’ve all heard of the phenomenon that is facebook, if not, then wiki it then digg it then get all del.ic.ous with it, then do whatever else cause I’ve run out of web2.0 shenanigans to throw around... I remember my first social network invite a couple of years ago.. hi5, friendster, myspace, etc etc etc. I never joined these networks in fear of them stealing my identity and selling it on the internet in exchange for the visa of a little 7 year old Indonesian boy named kuluk who’ll now be a 27 year old occasional blogger..

And then facebook came along, which I also avoided at first but eventually caved when some friends convinced me to get on.. During the facebook honeymoon, it was nice getting reconnected with old friends, making new friends and keeping some of your friendships at a social networking distance. As we all started to sink into this addiction of checking to see who’s added who, what’s being said and what photo albums people have put up; the compulsive nature of people began rear its ugly head. Marriages were being tested as to who has a bigger friend list, people started wasting hours upon hours replying to unnecessary wall messages, some took to creating groups left right and center, and others were installing applications just for the hell of installing applications (I am at fault for installing the Chuck Norris one). The worst came in the form of facebook trawling, where people would connect to you and start stalking your wall, your photo albums, your hobbies and whatever other applications you installed on your profile. Heavy users were already experiencing social network fatigue getting tired of updating, tagging, uploading, and statusizing their life.. but the stalkers, the trawlers and the wanderers, they’re all still there – and still checking you out..

Taken from a conversation with a nonfacebookee friend this week that went a little like this:

(Exasperated on the phone) What is this facebook shit? why the hell does it exist? How can I take my picture off facebook?

What do you mean? What’s happened? You don’t even have facebook..

Exactly. Check this out, I come to work today and find out that my coworker saw a picture of me on facebook with my nuts hanging out. She just comes out and says my nuts are in a picture..

You’re kidding me.. nuts hanging out? Full view? (Contemplating email forwards with the red circle pointing out my buddie’s nuts and the mastercard priceless tagline “your nuts exposed on the beach picked out by your coworker, priceless”)

Yeah, I guess someone took pictures from some beach party and there’s a picture of me in my shorts with my nuts exposed..

This is exactly why I don’t wear board shorts, there’s rarely any mesh to keep everything in place..

You’re not helping right now, I need to get these pictures off this fucking facebook..

And your coworker, seriously,,,, searching pictures for your nuts.. Is this a bad thing that could be construed as a good thing? Or is it an embarrassing very embarrassing bad thing where you’re wondering if everyone in the office has now seen your nuts..

You’re missing the point, but thanks for making me wonder if the office manager’s seen my ‘ticles or not. I’m not on this damn site, my picture gets taken and all of a sudden I’m on it, my nuts are on it.. and I haven’t even seen this picture, it’s coming from a coworker who’s already seen my nuts.. my permission wasn’t granted, how the hell am I supposed to react?

A couple of phone calls and we’ll have everything sorted out.. don’t worry too much.. at least you’re not on facebook and weren’t tagged in the picture.. then whenever they’d click on your name the picture of your nuts would be in the database of your photos..

This is a really big mess this facebook.. people can get into a lot of trouble you know..

What do you mean?

Well what if a picture gets taken of me and I’m with a girl and it’s totally innocent, but the picture reveals a completely different story.. I could get into a lot of trouble with my girlfriend. All because someone put me on an album..

Well if you have nothing to hide, than you have nothing to hide.. but what were you doing having someone taking almost revealing pictures of you with a girl. I do see your point though..

And with that, we had the case of exposed nuts sorted out.. some people were relieved, some were upset and others didn’t even raise an eyebrow. But this got me to thinking, how much time do random strangers sit and search through your pictures? The eerie thought of people trawling through your photo albums learning of your misfits, your adventures and your life.. But then the counter thought to that, is that people put up their photo albums to get seen by their friends, meaning that they indirectly don’t mind you searching through their pictures.. So where do I stand on this? I’m not too sure…

cold beverages for a flippin' hot summer

2007-06-17T09:42:00.000+03:00

Know when you pull out a nice cold can of soda / pop / cola from the fridge and there’s this cool layer of condensation forming on the can? Now imagine the condensation, covering the entire can, getting pretty wet, cool to the touch, and slippery, so slippery.. This is what summertime is like in the Middle East, except it’s so hot that there’s no coolness to the condensation forming on your skin. Instead, it’s hot humid sweat that forces your clothes to stick to your body, that makes you want to peel your skin off and release the steam that’s making your blood bubble and boil. It’s this unbearable heat that you don’t just think about cooking an egg on the road, no you think about making an omelet, frying up some bacon, and even some toast.. Nothing is as futile as wiping the sweat off your brow in our climate this time of year, because just as soon as you wipe, there’s more sweat dripping down. You’ll start to discover new things about your body, like, “wow! I didn’t know I could sweat from my ear lobes, wow, summertime really teaches you new things about your body…”

Yes, summer is here: there are no more flirtations with semi cool days, there are no more clouds in the sky to protect us, and there is certainly no more room for anything long sleeve. But the sea is still pleasant, it’s not cool, or chilly, it’s perfect room temperature water, which I don’t have to tell you is a lot better than swimming in soup (if you’ve ever gone swimming in July/august you know what I mean).

In this heat, there are only a couple of things that actually keep us cool in this weather. You can either live the next few months in linen (always a good idea) or you can rehydrate/dehydrate yourself with some nice cold refreshing beverages. When it’s really khot outside, this is what I like to drink…

1. Gin and Tonic – The history of this drink dates back to the east India tea company, which introduced the glass of something to its troops stationed in the heat of Asia. Tonic contains quinine (a crystalline alkaloid that acts as an anti-inflammatory, pain reliever and anti-malarial). Because tonic was so bitter at the time, the troops could only knock it back if gin was added to it. the magic mix: In a tumbler filled with ice, mix, three parts tonic to one part gin, add a squeeze of lime and toss the wedge in, stir and enjoy. I know a lot of people that don’t really like g&t, but I find people just don’t drink it in the right environment, try it this summer and you’ll see what I mean. The combination of the ice, the refreshing tonic, and a healthy dose of gin makes the whole concoction flow down your throat so easily. I like to keep the lime wedges in my glass, helps me keep track of how many drinks I’ve had... G&T, I love thee..

2. Mojito – (pronounced moheeto if you didn’t already know) now I admit, I do not appreciate Bacardi taking advantage of a resurrected drink and beating it senseless with advertisements. But if a place makes a good mojito, well then there’s nothing better than that. Drafted in from Cuba, the Mojito is essentially made from: rum, mint, limes, sugar, and soda water. The trick is to muddle (with a pestle) the mint leaves sugar and limes in a glass, add the rum and then top off with the soda water and some mint or lime garnish. #1 you must use decent rum, #2 the muddling releases the flavors and reaffirms your expert mixology whether you have it or not, #3 The sugar you use is also very important, cane sugar works best. Hemingway and Hunter S. Thompson drank Mojitos (separately, although I’m sure they would have been the best of friends) until the sun came up and then set again.. we even came up with a song, “Mo. Mo. Mo. MoMo… MOJITO”

3. Sangria – coming from the Spanish word (derived from latin), sangre or blood, is a refreshing summer drink that is easily enjoyed by everyone. I learned to make from uncle hamad who learned it from his friend, an Argie dip living in Madrid – so the recipe does have a little history, which is always cool. Although the recipe was passed down in confidence, I think it’s time to share this wealth of information; sangria is for communal enjoyment, you can’t all enjoy it if someone’s hiding the recipe. So here we go: regular table wine, cointreau (orange liquer), either vodka/brandy/cognac (depending on what you have), sliced fruit (apples, oranges, pears), juice (apple or orange), sprite, and sugar. Slice up the fruit, and pour the wine, then add a good measure or two of cointreau and then the other liquor you’ve got. Pour some juice into the mix, add a spoon of sugar, and then add the sprite. Now people will tell you to save the sprite till the end because of the carbonation, I say hogwash, add it and make sure the taste all works together. Let it chill in the fridge and then serve it over some ice. Through many pitchers, I’ve learned that no one really enjoys a lethal and strong sangria; but a subtle easy to drink sangria – that’s what gets people in the mood.

4. Cerveza – end of the day, there’s very little that can come between you and a cold cerveza on a hot day. There is nothing more refreshing than shoving your hand in a bucket of ice or cooler to pull out a cold can of brew. And then when you fish out the beer, you shake off the excess cold water and crack it open. I think the most beautiful image is the beach, a bucket with ice, and a couple of beers resting in that bucket, blissfully blissful..

Yeah so it is an alcohol related post. Just helping you decide what you should consider drinking this cruel summer. Kampai..

mtv smut: and the men rejoice..

2007-06-05T09:52:00.000+03:00

Not that I’m complaining or anything.. but has anyone noticed how much smut has now made its way to dance music videos on MTV?

This recent music video smut phenomenon kicked off with that catchy 2004 “tearing up the dance floor fist pump” commersh anthem Call on Me by Swedish flash, Eric Prydz. If you haven’t seen the video well then let me sum it up for you.. A sexually suggestive video reminiscent of Physical with Olivia Netwon John, but instead of all those fat guys, it’s an aerobics dance class of the choiciest of ladies dressed in 1980s aerobics gear. As the class goes through its “sexafied” workout, the girls spend a lot of quality time rubbing their breasts and slapping their respective buttocks, attracting the alluring eyes of its male viewership. The video was so popular in Australia that it was downloaded 35,000 times onto people’s mobiles. Needless to say, if Bahrain had a functioning 3G network at the time, we’d all be watching and rewatching the video ourselves, instead, we had to settle for leaving MTV in the background until it came up. Luckily for us, MTV has nothing good to offer and relooped the same video a couple of times in one sitting.. Rrraaadiicall.

It seems that the formula of catchy dance tune + pretty girls + sexually suggestive dance moves = popular music video. With a winning formula like that, people remain glued to their TV sets watching and then when they’re walking around the office, they continually hum the tune while mentally recalling the brazen booty of a particular dance sequence… aaah, good times..

The other day, I was at a friends place and in the interest of background noise, MTV was thrown on the telly.. Luckily, it was the dance video segment and I must say, the formula is back and badder than ever. Out of the 10 videos that appeared during the segment, 6 had the formula. I watched two friends fastened to their seats in front of the TV with no desire to even contemplate moving or offer a helping hand while the rest cooked.

Averting my eyes to the screen briefly, my brain quickly registered what was going on in the video, blocked out all the noise and surroundings, and sent neural messages to my body to stop everything and just watch. I remained a catatonic mass disinterested in anything except the girls in skimpy cotton underwear playing football. The booms and beats in the background were of little consequence except for the fact that while that music was on the girls were still running around. We watched the whole video, a football match between the blondes and the brunettes, and neither of us new who won, who scored a goal or what was going on. Yes it did feel slightly Pavlovian, completely sucked into the formula of watching girls move around, but I didn’t care. The close-ups, ohh the close-ups.. After the video I realized the formula and how effective it was… now I feel programmed to definitely watch the next time I see this video come on and I will demand to watch it if possible, and eventually, hum the tune at work. Yes, sex sells and has been taken to a new level.

After the girls playing football I saw the girls in cleaning lady outfits (not French maid outfits, cleaning lady outfits) with cleavage exposed and round heinies bumping and bobbing. The concept of taking a cleaning lady, making her super sexy and just having her move around and clean while dance music is pumped through the speakers, sounds pathetic as I write this, but during the airing, made as much perfect sense as breathing.

There were a couple of more videos that I causally glanced over, and tried to pull myself away from. The one thing that stayed true is that they all kept to the formula: dance music, half naked women, and lots of provocative dancing.

I don’t know if Arabic music videos took a lesson from Eric Prydz or if they knew the formula all along, but the music channels like “Mazzika” can get pretty soft core. I always chuckle when I see the older gentleman on the treadmill at the gym salivating over Nancy or Maria or Alyssa (running out of names) in her latest music video. You hear the claps and cheers, the “aaakkhhhh” s and so on and so forth.

Eventually I had to remove myself from the viewing angle of the screen, I was just becoming antisocial and was getting annoyed with myself because I was slobbering over TV women, and that’s not very becoming. Living in the middle east, we spend a considerable amount of time watching fashion tv. At first, it’s all fun and games watching wave after wave of beautiful models in swimwear or lingerie. But then the reality of the fact sets in, that all you’re doing is frustrating yourself cause hell will definitely freeze over before zainab, khatoon and moza get fit and strut their stuff..

In my mind, I'm goin to Sri Lanka

2007-06-02T18:31:00.000+03:00

Revolutionario Anxiety
Thee days before we’re scheduled to leave and the aerial unit of the Tamil Tigers attempt to bomb the military fuel complex at the international airport. News breaks out that flights have been cancelled and I fret for about an hour. A brief moment of apprehension was the catalyst in a series of phone calls. This is the gist of those phone calls:

The tigers tried to bomb the airport, Colombo’s shut down..

Really? Is it still safe?

Yeah, relatively. It’s just that Emirates cancelled their flights there.

I guess it’s good we’re flying Sri Lankan Air then..

Yea.. I just hope they don’t cancel our flight..

We’re still going right?

Of course, I’m not worried.

Me neither..

But we’re taking a car.. I don’t want wait around the airport for a seaplane to take us...

Fine, you sissy..

And with that, our plans steamrolled ahead.. Something magical about Sri Lanka has been calling me for years now, and this was my time to find that voice. Braving the possibility of harm, we took the red eye from Dubai. Landing in Colombo early morning and I was amazed at how everything worked out so smoothly and efficiently, placating my anxiety about our safety. A sleepy 3.5hour drive later, we arrived in Koggala village right outside of Galle, on the south west coast, ready to chill out for the next 6 days and get an initial feel for the country.

Again with the mosquitoes..
Maybe we were asking for it by visiting Sri Lanka at the start of Monsoon season, but those bastards were ferocious. Having armed myself with jungle strength mosquito lotion, and jungle mosquito pads, I thought we were safe, but I paid dearly for that error. My first two mornings there were spent inspecting the new bites all over my face and hands. It got so bad that the hotel staff, fearing a lawsuit or something worse, burned citronella and mosquito coils twice daily in our room. I became “bumpy crater face from room 5”.

There is something to be said about the satisfaction of squashing a mosquito with your bare hands and seeing the blood that was just recently sucked from your skin splattered between your palms. Mosquito killing spree mornings were a lovely tradition of revenge on the trip. The nice thing about this was after being jacked on antihistamines, lotions and various remedies, I went to see an Ayurvedic doctor who rubbed some homebrew of oils and leaves on my arms to stop the swelling – in the karmic scheme of things, it felt nice getting holistic treatment meant to be cheap, but expensive because it’s in a hotel, for free.. Did that even make sense?

I'm on vacation, sure i'll have another...
Because of my anxiety and constant complaining about looking grotesque for my vacation pictures (over 15 swollen bites all over my face).. I was fed two bottles of wine a day with a number of drinks spaced out to keep my buzz and forget about my appearance. Let me tell you, there’s nothing that numbs the urge to itch, than inebriation.. It just keeps you jovial and merry, well except for the fact that I might have spurred alcoholism, but that’s all ok now.. Hiccup.

When in Ceylon, drink Ceylon
Not that I could tell the difference, but I was hoping to drink some good tea while in Sri Lanka. Every morning, we drank tea, and although pishi was able to tell the difference, I just tasted tea. Still unable to tell a difference, we drove through the jungle for a visit to one of the world’s “best” natural tea plantations. I didn’t know this, but green tea, black tea, and white tea all come from the same plant, the variations all depend on how many leaves and how much of the stem you clip. So,,, we tasted, dabbled and bought the purveyed goods to take home as gifts; but end of the day, my lipton tea taste buds were pathetic.

Walking on a 200-acre tea plantation inspecting the various types of teas and pesticide free produce, we came across a lot of sound. Apparently the workers on the tea plantation are really into their hi-fi sets, spending all their salaries and using credit to buy sound systems. And that’s not all, these workers pit their hi-fi sets against each other and jack up the music, dancing after a long day at the plantation. Although I was taken back by the 100 year old machines used to process the tea leaves to the stuff we drink every morning, I couldn’t help but wonder how crazy the ear blasting dancehall parties got on a tea plantation in south west Sri Lanka.

Tourism, Tsunami and the Tamil Tigers
Galle was affected by the Tsunami, but unlike the other destinations like Thailand and the Maldives, tourism has suffered because of the safety concerns with the Tamil Tigers. And because of these troubles, Sri Lanka has been neglected as a popular tourist destination. A lot of people promised to help and restore the country, but those were empty promises like the ones of Shane Warne (silly twit of an Australian bowler), who pledged to restore the Galle cricket ground to its pre-tsunami charm. Well, to this very day, only 20% of that money promised has made its way, and the people have given up on him, tsk tsk Shane, you just can’t seem to get a break can you?

The locals are super friendly and really appreciate visitors, so no worries about people ripping you off or wanting to rip you off – maybe a little, but nothing too bad. And yes, there are troubles with the Tamil Tigers, but that shouldn’t deter you from going, the situation is between them with the government and not tourists.. Obviously, stay away from crowds, try not to get stuck in the thick of a busy location, keep your head down and no one will bother you at all. Some of the architecture was absolutely beautiful there with Geoffrey Bawa (Sri Lanka’s favorite architect) putting up some gorgeous buildings (I hear Kandalama on the lake is supposed to be stunning).

Goin back? mosdef
All in all, good food, beautiful scenery, nice people, and laid back life made Galle perfect for me. Being islanders, the Lankans are the coolest of the subcontinent with a definite hippie hakuna matata outlook on life. The Galle Fort, is a beautiful UNESCO world heritage site, and is also the hangout littered with young lovers courting each other. The beaches and their fishermen catching sear fish and other varieties were a beautiful sight to see. Apart from the romance, one of the better memories for me, is going for a swim in a protected bay with pishi and watching a Sri Lankan father take his toddler into the water to teach him how to swim. Having a beautiful traveling companion also helps, she makes the pictures look good..

Not for nothing but...
I don’t want to gloat, but,,, there is a certain cool factor when you’re flipping through this month’s wallpaper and find them talking about your hotel. Tres hip. And yes it was dedoned out, we enjoyed the leaf.

vocabulario IV

2007-03-12T12:16:00.000+03:00

The time to crunch is upon us and I will be taking a break from you folk indefinitely.. So,,, the kids, the dog and me are all taking off for a little need to sort out my real life breather, the real life where I’m not explaining myself to a computer screen.. yeah that real life.. Here is this, the last vocabulario for a while.. enjoy it,, stretch them out.. if you can use gadzooks this week - I’ll be impressed..

Flapdoodle

Gadzooks!

Skullduggery

Gadzooks!! What method of skullduggery is this? Bahraini rants flapdoodling about and disappearing on me again? I don’t trust him or his vocabularizing filler posts..

Take care folks.. be good and see you soon.. leave a comment if you like, I promise to write back.. And if you just can’t get enough, well then, go listen to Gohan yell it through your speakers.. huraaaahh..

Kuwait and its Kiwis

2007-03-08T11:52:00.000+03:00

Random tripping with D..

A couple of hours were spent in the Mubarakiya souk where D and I traversed through the various streets and dusty alleys trying to find something interesting to buy or take pictures of.... We left with a tetris puzzle, some shape shifting toys, an oversized foam puck that hovers (battery operated), and some interesting shots.. Killing off some time till lunch, I then ended up taking a picture of a gun shop and got yelled at by the owner, who thought I was a journalist. He eventually laughed off my slightly tense Bahraini accent and let me go my way (you would be tense if you saw all the rifles and scary looking employees). Mental note to self, the customer is always right, except in a gun store.

Booze and Big Squeeze..

The number one conversation of my weekend in Kuwait centered on an article in the local papers that mentioned an imminent alcohol ban in Bahrain. After going into a detailed analysis and providing my personal opinion over 10 ten times, I got tired and began truncating my reply with a “don’t worry about it”. I still haven’t figured out if the people I spoke to were happy alcohol might be banned or whether they were worried about their own weekend excursions. The thought of having to find a dealer for booze is a little funny, not trying to rub it in, it’s just funny, I laugh at the Doobyians about this one too..

Drinking in restaurants james bondishly was an interesting experience, bringing out a level of sneakiness I haven’t felt since I was in high school or at a party my parents were throwing. I did end up forgetting where I was a couple of times and ordered a vodka from the uninterested waitress. My no no was quickly laughed off as a joke and I continued to drink my friends’ stash and merrily talked the night away. In house boozing was fun as hell and the convos and chilled out atmo is what really makes it, or maybe I was just happy to be in Kuwait doing the dirty.. The party scene is pretty happening and i was impressed with everyone's fun vibe. You gotta be on the list otherwise Bu'Francois wont let you through the private villa velvet ropes..

With Great Friends:

Nothing changes... 7 years ago, we were 5 or so lads hanging about an apartment on a Friday afternoon pondering our plans for the evening and discussing matters of no relevance.. Some on the computer downloading something crass, some playing video games, some ordering food and one particular person hanging out in his undershirt.. 7 years later, the same 5 guys, a little older, but back to hanging out, our discussions of hot Colombians and super models were replaced with more adult talk. Some grey hairs, some gained weight, but for the most part we still played video games and that same guy was still in his undershirt.. It’s nice to pick up exactly where you all left off. Also, leave it to my old amigo to discover a great hole in the wall Thai restaurant for a nice masaman curry.. Pataya Beach Restaurant – good, cheap, and dangerous - typical..

This post to you was brought by:

The location in Hawali might be a little bothersome, but GO NUTS DONUTS has to be one of the best donuts I’ve tried in a really long time.. Although I do like the brand that we do not speak of but begins with K and ends with a rispy Kreme, Go Nuts Donuts does stand as a delicious donut. I got to sample quite a few of their products and I must say, it was the first time I have a chocolate donut that had real Belgian chocolate drizzled on it - unreal.. If you’re looking for fresh Donuts from a brand that really puts an emphasis on quality, look them up, you wont be sorry.. This might seem as barefaced endorsement, it is important to note that I personally don’t eat donuts, but loved these.. Call and order some delivered to your office..

Thoughts:

KDD gold ice cream (vanilla ice cream cone with chocolate and nuts) is the holy grail of gold ice creams, Danish dairy wide -BDD you’ve lost your appeal. I was amazed really.. Lorenzo’s pies are overrated, come to Bahrain and try Luigi’s and then decide – ummhmm.. Sandstorms there are pretty nasty, and when I mean nasty all that was left was me exhaling dust rings.. They take caffeine to another level – if you think your coffee consumption is bad, head to Kuwait and you’ll see real caffeine consumption.. Kuwait Airways have the most inept staff I’ve ever seen, why have a self-check in machine if there’s no one to show you how to use it? And you guys need to work on your attitude… Villa Moda is a seriously beautiful department store, hats off..

It’s always fantastic seeing your old posse, and when your conversations involve talking shop, music, future directions, ex-girlfriends, media, and robot genatilia, you can be sure it’s a good time..

A ginormous thanks for the great time to my old friends and a nice to meet you to my new friends in Kuwait.. except you wehbee, I still hate you..

food related randomatica

2007-03-06T12:10:00.000+03:00

What kind of fast food person are you?
When it comes to “fast food” I believe there are two types of people: pizza people and burger people.. You can like both, in fact many people do, including yours truly. But if they put a slice of pizza and a burger in front of you and you had to choose just one, what would it be? Lets assume taste is not a factor here, either of them will be the delicious meal you crave. See, I’m a big fan of both, but when the line is drawn and I have to pick, it will be burger over the pizza all the time… I’m still not sure what the answers from this question will generate in terms of someone’s personality, but I’m still working on finding the correlation. Which one will you choose anonymous reader that never comments? I’m talking to you Reston, Virginia…

Microwaves at work
An important topic since we all hate the permeating smells that waft through our hallways mid morning.. Fish, reheated in the microwave at work, what’s your take? I am on the side of the fence that feels it’s wrong, very wrong, and it indubitably stinks up the entire floor – there should be a law prohibiting the use of fish and microwaves.. grill, bake, poach, fry, anything else is fine, but microwave? fish? That’s disgusting - reheat in the oven if you must, but don't nuke nemo. Raise of hands, who’s on my side with this? What kind of person has those brilliant ideas to begin with? I just couldn’t possibly finish off the last fillet of salmon, I know, I’ll just reheat this at work tomorrow for my lunch in the microwave, oh i'm not worried something's going to happen to day old fish that's nuked, my stomach can handle it.. I’m of the belief that there should be a law prohibiting the use of fish and microwaves. Lets take a stand on this together.. no nuked fish..

what else stinks up the room or floor reheated in the microwave, hmm Reston, Virginia?

Redbull argument with the supervisor at the canteen.
Hello, are you the supervisor?

Yes sir how can I help you

I’m happy you asked. I have a problem with how much you charge for Redbull here.. You charge 600 fils per can, where everywhere else in Bahrain charges 500 fils. Now I understand that 100 fils extra isn’t that big of price hike, but if you do the math, you’re charging a 20% increase compared to any other store or supermarket. Considering that you charge regular market rates for all your other drinks and food stuffs, I’m wondering why you charge 600 fils per Redbull instead of 500 fils.

Sir we have 8 locations and for the past year we’ve charged 600 fils, no one complains..

Yes that’s all fine and dandy, but I know you get your Redbull at wholesale, and if the rest of the market is happy with the profit they’re making by charging 500 fils, that’s a little greedy and on your part to charge 600 fils. With regards to your 8 locations, have you conducted any studies as to how many Redbulls are sold? And if you lowered the cost to the market rate, how many more cans would you sell.. have you researched this?

I’ll look into it.

I’m just saying that I would end up saving 1 dinar a week if not more if you just adjusted your price to the market price. That’s 52 dinars a year, insignificant week in week out, but it adds up. All you’re doing is deterring me from buying Redbull from you.. that and creating a negative image of your brand as a whole in my mind.

Ok sir I’ll look into it..

And other people know this too, they wont buy Redbull from here because you charge 20% more. It’s only 100 fils, but we play with numbers all day and a 20% increase is a rip off all things considered.. you’re trying to sell a product at an over inflated price to people who make a living out of skimming.. do you understand what I mean?

Ok sir I’ll look into it.. but across 8 locations..

..What’s to stop me from buying everything at retail price and selling it 550 fils, or 500 fils just to spite you.. wouldn’t you feel pretty upset that someone else is selling to market and you’re losing out on all that business? Cause I would definitely go and get a letter of no objection from the company to open up a side business and sell redbull outside your canteen..

ok sir, i'll check..

Realizing the futility of my words and the exasperation from my needed caffeine fix, I gave up, paid for my 20% inflated Redbull and made my way back to my floor. Are you happy now Reston, Virginia?

kalimaat..

2007-03-04T17:43:00.000+03:00

Well it’s Sunday, the beginning of the week for us in this part of the world that get Fridays and Saturdays off.. I don’t know about you lot, but the vocabularios of recent have been a little heavy on the prudent scale of fascinating words.. I thought this week we could try to use words that were a little more interesting to pronounce. So here are my three words, look at yourself in the mirror and say them out loud, drop one of them across your dinner conversation, or maybe even have a meltdown and yell one out loud.. I especially like them…

Higgledy-Piggledy

Didactic

Quiddity

I hope you don’t think I’m taking a didactic approach with these vocabularios, my intentions truly rest in the desire to help relay the quiddity of this exercise week in and week out. It is my hope to eventually organize the higgledy-piggledy collection into a fully functioning index of odd words that we can all learn to love.

On a completely unrelated note..
I’ve started the Bahrain Monocle club.. 4 people have already purchased the magazine’s first issue as per my recommendation, and I’m sure there are a couple of people in Kuwait that will buy the magazine just to shut me up.. Tyler Brûlé, you can now sleep safe at night knowing that your Middle East sales are doing just fine thanks to the crafty and selfless promoting of a certain bahraini rants.

rex the barbary falcon

2007-03-02T09:07:00.000+03:00

Sometimes i get blue.. when that happens, i find this guy hanging around on the ledge outside my window at work... he comes over, pauses and gives me a look "khey man, everything cool? you look a little down, you look like you could use some cheering up".

he's a Barbary falcon (a subspecies of the Peregrine), flies through Bahrain when the weather's nice, and is missing a talon - i call him rex. if you haven't noticed, rex is a total camera whore..

this is him peering through my window trying to get my attention, but still acting cool about it.. it's around this time that i drop everything i'm doing to snap a couple of shots on my cameraphone (the little 2 megapixel that could)...

this is his, "lets get the prerequisite symbols of Arabia photoshoot out of the way first and then we'll talk".. notice the serious look on his face, the prestige, the piercing glaze in his eyes, the determination.. i think we all know who'd win the staring you down contest..

you talkin to me bitch? huh? i said, you talkin to me? i don't see no other bird on this ledge but me so you must be talkin to me.. do not get my feathers ruffled man, you're biting off more than your molars can chew. i will claw out your eyeballs and nest my eggs in your bleeding warm sockets.. do not get my feathers ruffled man..

this is rex right before he's off to kill a pigeon or some innocent animal. scoping out the scene, he turns for one last photo. lets wrap this up, i feel my right side is my best side, what do you think? total camera whore i tell you..

so that's rex, the falcon that just comes and hangs out.

always does wonders for my mood..

serious sandwich talk

2007-02-28T07:49:00.000+03:00

the beginning
In my humble opinion, the greatest invention in the world has to be the sandwich. Due to the common sense of housing meat inside bread, everyone claims to have invented this wondrous meal, but the truth is, no one really cares but if you really really want the truth, we invented it. The actual name sandwich is attributed to the 4rth earl of sandwich, who in order to not get his fingers messy had meat stuffed between bread. There are two stories behind the earl’s request, #1 he was constantly working and wanted to eat something at his desk with minimal mess #2 he frequently gambled and wanted something to eat while he played cards.

Here’s how it panned out in 1762 (read in a very English Stewie Griffin voice):

Percy: john, these snacks are absolutely delicious, who would’ve thought to put cold cuts between bread, wouldn’t you say so cecil?

Cecil: oh absolutely smashing your earlness.. absolutely smashing.

John, the 4th earl of sandwich: pretty good ayh gents? now lets call. I’ve got three jacks.

Cecil: I fold, like a tartan kilt.. ahahaaahahaahhaa.. (the room goes quiet) ahhahha?

Percy: sorry john but I win with four queens, dreadful luck ol chap. That takes my winnings to…

John: yes, well you still need to cover the expenses of the sandwich.

Percy: the what?

John: the sandwich you Poncy bastard. You owe me for the sandwich you’re eating. Now pay up before I have Reginald shove a Cornish hen up your rectal cavity.

Incidentally, that marked the first sandwich sale, and gave birth to the short-lived but still famous 4rth round sandwich or Cornish game hen up the butt game at gambling tables worldwide.

yanks take the cakewich
The level of sandwiches offered here in the Middle East, depending on where you eat, are a little disappointing. Let me come out and say that we have no problems in the shawarma and falafel categories – nor do we have any issues with the cafeteria sandwiches (there’s nothing like a samboosa and sliced processed cheese with Tabasco in a white bun). However, the “other” sandwiches tend to cater to a more anglo-palette, carrying a much more angular taste than you’d like. Although sandwiches from all over the world are delicious, I’m just going to again come out and say something else: in the field of creation and reengineering, no one can compete with the Americans. In fact, if there were a sandwich Olympics, I’d just give gold to the Americans in every category and not bother competing. Allow me to elaborate: because of the hodgepodge of ethnicities in the US, a number of immigrants intermingled their national foods and then had to repackage it to suit the average American consumer (think how real Chinese food was altered to suit the American palette) – hence the extra fillings, the pressing, the meals converted into sandwiches, etc. In defining a sandwich, I’m inclined to say almost anything housed between bread is considered to fall within the sandwich grouping, so if a = b, then the Americans (with their multi-ethnicities) have excelled at hotdogs, burgers, cold cut sandwiches, burritos, chacareros, PB&Js, chicken parms, lobster rolls, cheese steaks, and others.

skimping out
When ordering a sandwich here, the person behind the counter usually layers on a slice or two of the actual meat into the sandwich, cheapishly known as the skimping out method. It’s as though they rub the sliced turkey on the bread for you to get the basic gist, but then leave you with two slices and enough lettuce to think you’re a vegetarian. The American method involves layering so much meat you actually have to ask for less pastrami on your sandwich because it’s a little overkill. I like it when I have to ask for less of an ingredient, especially if it’s the meat filling.

mustard misfortune
I am a huge fan of mustard, and although I do like English mustard, that’s the only mustard that is regularly stocked in restaurants and sandwich shops here in the Middle East. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of sinus opening condiments, I do like them, but not as the only option of condiment I can put on my sandwich. I would pick any other mustard over English any day, hands down; whole grain, deli, honey, brown, Dijon, even regular ol’ yellow, there are so many other options. But this goes back to my anglo-palette statement, leaving you to wonder, what kind of culinary contributions have the English given the world that we must cling to their English Mustard to go with our meals?

do your thing
Making due with what we have, I’ve learned to hover in front of the counter as they prepare my sandwich.. If you don’t have what I like on the menu, I will pay you more to let me create my sandwich as I like… a simple substitution of cheese, the choice of bread, the wonders of pressing the sandwich, extra meat, there’s a lot there going on, and if you have the same problem as me, then don’t be afraid to speak up. I’ve trained the cafeteria cooks at work to prepare my sandwiches the way I like them, and have slowly begun reengineering their prepackaged sandwiches to suit your taste.

Some of my Ultimate sandwiches:

Italian: cold cuts with lettuce, tomato, green peppers, pickles, olives, a little bit of onion, salt, pepper and olive oil, toasted.

Hangover: egg with onions and a little green chili, melted cheese, tomatoes, in a white sesame bun pressed.

Union square: prosciutto, brie & cherry tomatoes, all in a buttered plain bagel in a toaster oven.

Work: turkey, cheese, lettuce, tomato, mustard in a submarine sandwich, pressed to death.

PBnN: Creamy Peanut Butter and Nutella on white bread.

OyVey: Hot Pastrami with swiss cheese and brown mustard on rye.

Paahhm: chicken cutlet, marinara sauce with tomato chunks, and melted cheese - all in a nice hoagie bun..

Primrose hill: plain bagel, egg salad, tomato and cucumber slices.. salt and pepper..

Dang. I could write a whole post listing my favorite sandwiches and I haven’t even broached the burger topic... What are some of your favorites?

vexingvocab

2007-02-26T18:01:00.000+03:00

So here we are again, a vocabulario for today’s sentiment.. I would explain and talk and say something obtuse like I normally do, but I just can’t seem to find it in me this week.. so you'll have to make due with a unimpressive tahdah.. tahdah..

Foolhardy

Dithering

Amalgam

The amalgam of dithering thoughts and foolhardiness has plummeted me down a path of distress to say the least.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have the reggae version of Karma Police to attend to.. New cd shipment is in and I’m listening to drown out my thoughts.. Permanent ear damage here I come..

improving images

2007-02-21T16:53:00.000+03:00

This falls more under the guise of constructive criticism, so whomever comes out feeling offended, take note that this is because I want to see you do well and I want you to have my business, rather than ignore you and write you off. The dated philosophy of “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” still floats freely around in Bahrain and that just does not sit well with me. Establishments that we once held as beacons of development and tourism around the island are now decrepit cesspits of rancor and filth. The 80s were filled with various enterprises with hotels, restaurants and social clubs where you could spend your money and enjoy yourself.. Today, those same enterprises still exist, however they have remained in the exact same condition and level of service as when they were christened.

Bahrain is a natural regional tourism hub. We have a bridge connecting us with Saudi Arabia, and every weekend we get visitors from Kuwait, Saudi, and other GCC neighbors that come and spend their money. We also get visitors from all over the world that decide to come over for a quick stop en route to another destination out east. So all in all, we’re not doing too badly with the amount of tourists we can draw to our sunny archipelago of islands. Now unfortunately, some of these tourists are alcohol and women obsessed fiends that I do not care to comment on because it will just enrage you. You see, people come to visit Bahrain and say it attracts all the scum that look to have fun and run amuck, a statement that is not entire untrue because we have establishments that actually promote this kind of clientele. To the establishment, this clientele brings money in on a weekly basis so why should they care? It’s not a big deal that a guest might end up inebriated beyond any point of cohesion and walk around the hotel completely naked. Nor does it bother the hotel management that the guests get so drunk that they could very well end up assaulting a member of the staff, maybe even another guest.

We have our 5 star hotels and they have their own rules and management practices handed down to them by their corporate office, so they end up doing a decent job of running an acceptable establishment. But the way I see it, we have enough families, expats, and regular folk living outside that would love to come to Bahrain and spend their weekends someplace else. In fact, if we offered them something other than the traditional 5 star hotels (that already have their dedicated clientele), more people will come. So I started thinking (a problem I know), what can we do to make Bahrain a better tourist destination? And the first step was quite simple, better establishments.

Not to say we missed the gravy train, but boutique hotels came en vogue and have now become a standard in many cities all over the world. A facelift, some renovations, improved training for your staff, some real involvement and there you have it – charge more money, get some decent exposure and watch your occupancy rates swell up. I cannot begin to explain how some hotels quickly turned around their image and their star rating with a little fixing up. A quality establishment worth frequenting, a place with a committed management, an innovative perspective – that will draw the crowds in. I know this sounds a lot easier than it actually is, but just read on and hear me out.

Driving by the Mansoori Mansions, a 4 star hotel located in Adliya that hasn’t done much to improve their image since the heyday of the 80s – I started thinking more about what can be done. The location is perfectly situated in Adlilya, a busy neighborhood in Bahrain, lots of restaurants in the vicinity, and central in terms of location in the capital. The problem the hotel is currently facing, although I don’t know if the management and owners know is: Their atmosphere is weighing on the stale than fresh (I will not comment on the rooms since I’ve never seen), their restaurant sizzlers that hasn’t changed their menu since it opened with a price tag that doesn’t justify their quality which has plummeted over the years (you’ll pay the same price at other restaurants with a better ambience and menu), a ridiculously discriminatory door policy at their ancient glory days English bar henrys (two friends in suits were fed the members and couples only excuse when they swung by for a quick lunch - even the English have switched to gastropubs while henrys is still serving club sandwiches on regular white bread), a fenced plot of bare land near the hotel that is just there serving no purpose, and another irish bar across the street with what I’m told hasn’t much to offer. . I called the hotel and found their prices to be: BD20, BD45, and BD55 for their studio, 2 bedroom and 3 bedroom suites. That’s pretty bargain basement priced if you ask me for a 4 star hotel, but given the outside appearance of the hotel and the more than possible inside appearance of the rooms, maybe that’s all you can get.

Fret not Mr. Mansoori, who probably thinks the worst of me right now, here’s where the constructive criticism comes in: you have a perfect location, remember who your neighbors are (or aren’t), you can really turn your hotel around and make it something fantastic. First off, the name of the hotel is dated and does not give off anything but a less than 21st century image (“mansions” more like hovel). Off the top of my head, I can give you a couple of names. You’re a hotel in Adliya, you can operate a nightclub, you can operate a very good lounge and you can operate a restaurant all with liquor licenses with the utmost ease.. I don’t see why you can’t team up with some people, bring a nice restaurant to the hotel (it could be a luxury chain or your own concept, look at how well the other restaurants are doing in that area), you can have a nice bar/lounge and I guarantee you it will make people looking to visit Bahrain think twice about where they will book their rooms. If you’re stuck for options, then team up with an excellent spa and turn your boutique hotel into a full stop locale and see how well you do. You have a swimming pool? Well fix up that pool up and make it the hotel swimming pool to hang out at, an infinity pool, nice wood, and couple of objects d’art and you’re on a roll. Get yourself a good interior designer, keep it simple, have them redesign the rooms, or even spend a hefty amount of money, we’re not short on very cool hotels.. A young positive look on the place is much better than keeping it stagnant.. please innovate. I guarantee you, that if you pull this off, you will get more publicity from foreign publications and the press than you could have imagined, a spread in wallpaper magazine is just around the corner. I would even hit up the various megacompounds on the eastern province in Saudi Arabia and submit your hotel as an option for their residents when they come to Bahrain for the weekend. I’ve focused a lot of Mansoori Mansions because I really believe in the potential of their establishment with their location and everything they have going for them. Don’t misunderstand me as picking a fight, in fact this is more of a please be aware that you’ve lost a lot of customers, including my two friends that were turned down at lunchtime (and they used to be regulars). They can really pull off a coup and attract a returning clientele that will enjoy staying and dining there. Plus, you cannot deny the certain cool factor of a family hotel business that has existed for over 20 years and is now repositioning themselves as a viable alternative to the other 5 star hotels, they would definitely get my money. I think hotelier sounds pretty cool, don’t you? Adliya is a goldmine; don’t forget that, the more you delay the longer it will take for you to catch up.

I could talk about the Marina club (maybe another post), but I’m running out of steam. Or how about the delmon hotel and the city centre hotel in Manama, two of my favorite establishments in the souk with serious amounts of potential but also lacking in care. With the upcoming upgrades to the souk, do your research and create a specialized souk shopping expertise on what to find and where to find it in the alleys of central Manama. You hook up with a couple of the traders in the souk and you’re giving back to the community and providing your customers with a service. Think about the potential, I would definitely use their service when I had visitors from out of town and they wanted to wander around the souk looking for gifts. Enough with these bland brochures and the excuse that there’s not really much to show you.. There’s plenty to show you in Bahrain, you just need to dig it out, wrap it up nicely and the people will come, in droves.

Maybe I’m wrong, maybe there's a bigger story that we don't know about, but it’s on my mind and I thought I’d share.. Speak up if you’ve got something constructive to say… or if you’re looking for a LBO in Bahrain, then here it is…

vo-vo-vocab-ulario

2007-02-19T11:31:00.000+03:00

I promised two posts in one day and I shall deliver two posts in one day..

Feeling a little invigorated from my lack of sleep and overindulging in caffeine, I’ve been tapping my feet to the continuous beats of death from above 1979, playing in my head.. So, I’ve picked the three words for this week: they are a little screwy to say the least, but hey, have you had a large coffee, a red bull and some matam tea in the last three hours? I didn’t think so...

Just to remind the three of you that read this site (thanks for keeping the statcounter going mom), the whole purpose of these vocabulario sessions is to merely suggest that you salt and pepper your conversations with words that you would never have used otherwise. I’m not saying you should include all three words in one sentence, but I’m willing to bet you can fit at least one of this week’s words in your exchanges this week (I’m loving dragoon by the way).

Dragoon

Jugulate

Flatulence

Dragooned into a discussion I did not want to have, I was forced to jugulate the conversation with an ungentlemanly reverberated bout of flatulence.

So there you have it, my second post in one day, I feel like mahmood.. Well except that his verbal flatulence isn’t nearly as good as mine.. HEY-O! I'm on a roll..

wawaweewa

2007-02-19T08:05:00.000+03:00

gindobre

i tried posting this yesterday, but something went wrong, so you'll be graced with two posts today..

my borat moment

enjoy

I friggin heart you

2007-02-14T14:46:00.000+03:00

This begins with a boilk.. my liver says help..

The heavy weight of valentines is always a difficult day to get through. Love is in the air, breakups are in the air, people are lonely, deliveries are being made, people are even nosier than they normally would be, singles band together – there’s a lot going on because of a made up holiday that honestly does nothing except propagate the giving out of cards that you didn’t print, flowers that will die, and chocolates that will make you fat.

Be weary of the old “Oh I don’t care about flowers, you should send me flowers everyday, in fact February 14 should be anti-valentines day” shtick. Pay attention now cause this is a valuable golden rule: Every girl loves receiving flowers at her place of employment. Whatever she tells you, no matter what she says, if you have a significant other and she works, send flowers to her office. It’s true that some girls don’t care about flowers, but it’s also true that all girls like to show off (directly or indirectly) that they got flowers on Valentines Day and rub in their valentine around the office. Don’t let her be that person without the flowers on her desk, you will never hear the end of it. She can toss the flowers at the end of the work day if they’re too much of a hassle to carry, it doesn’t really matter, but make sure she gets them on her desk sometime in the morning or you will unleash fury that you really shouldn’t be messing with.

This golden rule flower talk fits nicely with the next point.. A towering flower arrangement, a la overkill Bahrain style (also known as overkill Khaleeji style) wobbles its way to the building. Scoffing at the poor delivery guy trying his bestest to not topple the thing over into the elevator I’m thinking, you really didn’t have to overdo it pal, I’m sure she would’ve been happy with a regular bouquet of roses. The flowers get off on the same floor as me and make their way to the table of a male coworker. And here is my golden rule for the ladies.. No matter how much you love him, do not ever, under any circumstances send flowers to his place of employment.. if he likes flowers so much, have them waiting for him at home. I impart this wisdom to you because since the morning, the remarks and abuse have been hurled from all directions, and it doesn’t look like it’s gonna stop anytime soon. The poor sod’s manhood has taken a serious beating, quit it with the flowers or we will taunt him some more..

One thing that ruffles my imaginary feathers on Valentines is the over the top worry regarding dinner plans. You’re already succumbing to the demands of this made up day for lovers, but now you have to give in to the “creativity” of the chef for that special valentines meal? Unless it’s a meal prepared by Adria I don’t want a romanticly themed meal.. I want to eat what I came to eat, if it’s steak then steak, not a heart shaped meal. And the valentines inspired drink and the valentines inspired theme, give me a fucking break.. you want to make it romantic? Don’t interrupt and let me have my meal I came to eat with my lover in peace.

Some see today as the ideal time to pop the wedding proposal, at a nice fancy dinner, with the ring hidden in the soufle or floated down on a bubble or something. I must say one thing about proposing on Valentines day, go find a better cliché you romantically challenged cliché. Oh, and if you happen to have gotten married in Westminster town hall today 9 years ago.. you two are cheesy too, happy anniversary though, I love you guys..

What have we learned on this day of love and spite, where happiness is purchased via credit card and there’s no such thing as over the top? This is about that special someone, forget your friends and go find your lover. Close your eyes and have a dirty thought.

v for victorious vocabulario

2007-02-12T09:51:00.000+03:00

Before I begin, I’d like to point out that the GDN actually participated in last week’s vocabulario, with “razzmatazz”. I claim this victory in the name of vocabulario and look forward to seeing more use of our words..

Lets get on with it shall we? Here are your words for the week.. enjoy them and use them..

Chocolate-Box

Immix

Albatross

After clearing the albatross of immixed emotions hanging around my head these past couple of days, I am left with the chocolate-box image of a grand time.

All the best

The Breakup Mix

2007-02-09T12:08:00.000+03:00

your ex-lover is dead : Stars
who is he (and what is he to you?) : Bill Withers
float on : Modest Mouse
every rose has its thorn : Poison
this year : The Mountain Goats
Paper Tiger : Spoon
don't dream it's over : Crowded House
way down in the hole : The Blind Boys of Alabama
the thrill is gone : BB King
moving on : Hard-Fi
makin whoopee : Ray Charles

el blog es muerto

2007-02-07T15:43:00.000+03:00

This post is completely up for discussion.. I encourage you, nay, I implore you to voice your opinion and help formulate a consensus on the current state of blogging in the Middle East.

Once khip and khappening, there was a time when everyone decided to shun their shy awkwardness and arm their opinion with a blog. A dynamic community that quickly rose in prominence, demanded respect and got it, with bloggers shooting down corporations, campaigns and whatever crap you could shake a stick at.

With regards to the Middle East, our restricted societies made the anonymity of blogs a haven for our voices. We chose to speak up about politics, news, strikes, and self-pleasuring devices from japan; we aerated our skeleton closets, and discussed the random stupidity that floats around our brains on a daily basis. For the most part, everyone was happy and times were good, interesting content relayed over a new medium of information exchange. I was happy…

What’s the situation like now? I don’t really know how many blogs have died and gone defunct, lets just say it’s a lot. It seems people don’t have much to say these days. Fret not occasional reader who never leaves comments, this worldwide plummet in blog popularity was felt when Emmanuel Lewis deemed blogging was no longer cool. That cute little Webster, what will he burn down next?

Being a trawler of the web and anything interesting to read, I’ve found a little bit of amusement by mainly being an observer to clashes of identities and opinions. From squabbles going on with who has the right invite to the right blogger meetup in Kuwait, lasses in Dubai divulging their adventures and then retaliating with their faithful chorus against any contrary opinion, and the comment wars, I loved monitoring the cat fights..

By the same token, bloggers have been thrown in jail, blogsites blocked by the authorities and the determination continues to build on what has already been achieved.
With very few things happening to make you scratch you head, very little content to go “heh” at, I am left with this question, is blogging dead?

you got the vocab? i got the vocab

2007-02-05T10:42:00.000+03:00

We’re moving the vocabulario shtick earlier in the week so you have ample time to think about it and inject the words in your lingo. Reflect over these three words, let them settle with you and roll them off or around your tongue.. tuck them under your arms, let them get warm in your pits and then think about them some more. The goal should be for you to try and bring in at least one of these words in your conversation this week. Without any further ruckus, your three words for this week:

Razzmatazz

Sang-froid

Nascent

With all the nascent property developments in the region and the razzmatazz they promote, a certain amount of sang-froid is required in making a sound investment decision.

go forth and make daddy proud..

Sawadee Siam

2007-02-03T09:35:00.000+03:00

Back to Asia we ventured into Siam for encounters and adventures with the Phuketians and Bangkokers. Looking for some sun, sand, sea and the sound of sweet love – we characterized laissez faire on Phuket. While we found the dining, metro, one off shopping, hustle and bustle you’ll need from a big city in Bankgkok. Another page from our book of adventures..

Capping off “Island Tour 2006”, Phuket was all about relaxation, a just right new years celebration, great fun with Joony and fun with friends. There is nothing finer than the lackadaisical routine of island nonchalance, and when you slip right into it, you really slip right into it. We woke up, shuffled in for breakfast, flipflopped back to the room, hit the beach, took a dip in the Andaman sea, read, drank rose in the sunshine, hung out under the parasols snickering at the baking French and Swedes, ate lunch barefoot, ogled the sex tourists and wondered with grief, lounged with afternoon rays at the pool, napped, watched fake dvds, dinner, and slept in amongst other things. lather rinse repeat – marvelous.

Unable to wheedle our way into an illegal fight with buckets of broken glass to cover your fists, we settled for ringside tickets at the Ratchadamnern boxing stadium for a big night of Muy Thai. Our fashionably late arrival into the 3^rd fight was timed perfectly as the punters and touts walked in with us setting the stage for an electrifying evening. The first round would start off easy, a couple of jabs with some kicks here and there. With the sound of the bell signaling the end of the round, the grumble began to rumble from the crowds as they located the bookies to start placing bets. As the fight roared up in intensity, every break pushed the gambling up a notch with hands waving and money floating its way down to the floor. It’s so easy to start getting carried away with the crowd with their taunts and cheers as they have a sound for every different strike, lots of fun.. After a couple of Singhas, a TKO, some hunger pangs, a couple of really good fights and much involvement from the crowd, we decide to head back home but not before being mildly threatened by a cabdriver over a “fare haggle”, meter my ass..

A craving for big city public transportation was put to the test as we followed a magazine clipping to the Wang Lang market – think a much smaller Camden market but much less touristy and with much more strange food stalls. We decided to find something a little more off the beaten path than the famous markets, and we really did find "off the beaten path". Making a habit out of this sore thumb sticking out policy, we took the BTS sky train (which is unbelievably easy to use) to the last stop, got on the pier, boarded a longboat river taxi and traversed across the muddy waters to the other side for some very hardcore local yokel market strolling. The two of us, aimlessly wandering around a place where no one speaks English, the only foreigners in sight, and following ambiguous directions off a magazine clipping searching for unbelievably cool vintage sneakers, all in all, interesting excursion. Picking up some cool t-shirts, Joony comes out the winner, I fared well with the architect turned t-shirter, so we chalked up the experience and made our trek back.

You’ll never go hungry in Bangkok. A major aspect of the Thai culture that really kept the hustle and bustle going is how well and active their retail economy operates, and I’m not talking about the tourists. I have never been to a city where the local community is so keen on shopping and eating out that you see shops and food stalls everywhere you look. Everyone shops, and they do it till they drop - we couldn’t keep up and applauded their constitution. The other interesting observation about street food in thailand, it's stick oriented. you have your chicken, meat, or pork sates on a stick; you then have your fruit on a stick, your sausages on a stick; candy on a stick, the list just goes on and on..

What i learned: the disco tuktuks with the light and sound systems are very very cool - too bad we didn't get to ride one, it just never rolled by. chin pet medai (spelled phonetically) "hot and spicy makes me cry"- useful in someplaces but i have come to the conclusions that Thai cooks are as guarded over their chilis as French cooks are with butter. Muslim tourists in a hot beach climate: him, dressed in shorts & tank top; her, covered from head to toe looking uncomfortable in the humidity - there's something wrong there right? or is just me? After a while, i got tired of eating the local food, thank god Italians travel all over the world setting up restaurants and pizzerias everywhere, bless them..

An ode to companionship: breakfast orders always complimenting mine, damsel in distress when it came to opening jars, the end all be all of image consulting, hater of Chablis, getting the nod from random strollers, extra basil on her margarita, indirect sunlight worshipping, hopeless haggler, wandering photographer, much admired and appreciated patience, beautiful beautiful hair, polka dotted, enchanting and loving woman.

is it onze?

2007-02-01T11:47:00.000+03:00

Yeah it’s been a while..

here are three words.. let them roll off your tongue.. feel them enrich your vocabulary.. let them percolate your thinking.. Stamp out your command of the interesting and slip them into your weekend conversation with friends. You don’t have to use them all at once, just a dollop here and a splotch there..

Flummery

Maven

Vamoose

Way too much flummery from that phony maven was enough to make everyone vamoose out of the conversation.

A thought on today's overcast sky.. enjoy it while it lasts, cause when that brutal sun starts shining, you'll be longing for these grey days..

livin' in the 90s, a double disc

2007-01-31T16:50:00.000+03:00

Joe Republic, Paul Weller, Afghan wigs, Verve pipe, Candle Box, Bucketheads, Baby D, PM Dawn, Jon Secada, Everclear, Better than Ezra, Sound Garden, Tony Toni Tone, Dishwalla, Sophie B Hawkins, Rage Against the Machine, Black Sheep, Toad the Wet Sprocket, Natalie Merchant and the 10,000 maniacs, Marcy Playground, Deep Blue Something, Stabbing Westward, Gabrielle, Tonic, the Ghetto Boys, Stone Temple Pilots, East17, Groove Theory, Charles and Eddie, Poe, Gin Blossoms, Fuel, Big Mountain, Zoe Ball, Collective Soul, Ugly Kid Joe, Soul Asylum, Del Amitri, Spin Doctors, and many many more.. do you remember their music?

Sometime ago, I was talking to my little cousin about music. I found out he was into Evanescence, Fall Out Boy, Talking back to Tuesday, and other mainstream emopunk whatever you want to call it junk. I asked him about Jimi Hendrix, and he told me he wasn’t interested. His disinterest invited me to launch into a full monologue explaining the influence Jimi Hendrix had on my life and many many other listeners over the past 4 decades. I offered to lend him my copy of Electric Ladyland (in hindsight, I should have lent him the “ultimate experience” compilation for him to get the gist of it before wanting to cocoon himself in Hendrix). He still refused, claiming he liked his music and couldn’t get into the oldies. I know what you're thinking, I should've drop kicked him right there and then for such balsphemy, but he's young and misguided. I pleaded with him to at least humor me and borrow a cd to give it a listen, after which I was sure he’d change his ways – he still refused. Cursing his narrowminded viewpoint but not before contemplating breaking his arms, I decided it would be best if I left him with his confined opinion until he took a corner onto a dark alley.

My little sister took said relative to a Panic at the Disco concert recently because she knew he liked them. The band started covering Smashing Pumpkins and Radiohead and my sister tried to explain to our cousin that this music was what defined her generation and the best of the 90s. In a similar pretentious fashion, he brushed her off as he did me, and when she got upset, he told her of our incident regarding Hendrix. He thought we “were pushing our music” onto him, when all we were doing is just trying to get him to listen to music from the past that would actually mold his taste. He’s a good kid and will come around someday. I’m giving him another year of college to discover great music on his own, after that, I will take matters into my own hands.

Why is it that people get caught in pockets or time warps of music? How come a lot of us get stuck in a decade and refuse to extricate ourselves out? You become content with your music collection and then get to a point that you don’t want to search for anything new. Memories of those days amalgamate with the music of that time and you end up forever reshuffling your cds, reminiscing. A prime example: after being totally let down by the hip-hop of today, one of the lads still thinks it’s 1993.

What’s happening with today’s listener? As we get older, the next crop of young’uns just can’t seem to grasp the sounds that defined our adolescent years, while we can’t accept theirs. Or is this how we distinguish ourselves from today’s listener, because they can’t see how that music affected us, we are a little patronizing of their taste. Are we now resigned to becoming the targets of late night commercials regarding a 6 cd compilation giving you the best of the Alternative 90s? Cause let me tell you, I’m about a phone call away from ordering that cd, really.. I remember laughing at my older sister when she ordered romance of the 80 and 90s, a 6 disc compilation, because she needed Peter Cetera, Foreigner, and Cyndi Lauper again – but a little “time after time” does sound agreeable right about now. Does that mean that I’ve now become a dated listener?

Or will this music all die down for another 10 years until the band reunites, their music is kicked about our cobwebbed memory and all of a sudden people have started listening to Crowded House again. Hey, It’s only natural..

Update Man

2007-01-25T09:55:00.000+03:00

My friends just had a baby.. Instead of me mourning the end of normal conversations with them forever, I was appointed the update man yesterday. During her labor, everyone was calling to find out the play by play, so they decided “hey, call br, he’s the agreed update man”. How did I get so lucky to be appointed this valuable position, read on dear reader, read on …

Phone call at 7AM morning: We’re in labor, let everyone at work know, I’ll keep you posted.
A half asleep me scratching his nuts and thinking about whether he needs to shave for work or not…
Me: right, well, good luck.

If someone informed me earlier that those four words signaled my acceptance on update man status, I would’ve not answered my phone. (as a side note: I work with the new father, so everyone at the office was turning to me for information). Getting to the office, I got inundated with phone calls, questions, and remarks on the delivery. To which my answer to all of this was: they’re in labor and that’s all I know, but I’ll keep you posted.

Phone call at 3PM: the baby has not assumed the birthing position, if it doesn’t work out then we’re going for a c-section.
Me: right, well, good luck.

Three text messages, two phone calls, and six emails later, I’d managed to update everyone on what’s happening. Then the fit really hits the shan. The people I notified spread the news that I am the update guy (a job I was doing my best to keep hidden) so I ended up getting a couple of more texts, some emails and a few callbacks on my office phone to take care of.

Text message at 5:30PM: nothing yet.
Me: does this qualify for keeping everyone informed?

Random people now start calling: hey what’s the news?
Me: nothing yet, but I’ll keep you posted.

Phone call at 6:45PM: she’s going in for a c-section..
My text message to everyone: they’re going in for a hail Caesar, shotgun formation.

7 twenty something, the baby is finally born and welcomed to this world, very healthy and well endowed. The overjoyed father calls the update man to spread the good news, and no one picks up. I spent all of yesterday keeping people updated with banal news on the labor session, and when the real news emerges, I have my phone on silent. I failed my only objective, which was to notify everyone of the birth, leaving a bunch of people sans information about the little guy. The good news: My failure means that I’ll never be update man again..

K9 Conversations

2006-12-20T11:34:00.000+03:00

1. On the topic of capital punishment that took a little twist:

You know I feel that capital punishment is ok for pedophiles..

Yeah I can see that, that’s fine with me, they can die by lethal injection.

Know what’s weird? How come most pedophiles are men? you rarely hear about a woman molesting children.. That’s psychological gender difference right? Most of the cases you hear about involve a man molesting children… but it’s never like a woman would go and grab her stepson or her daughter and do wicked things to them..

Well how about these sexy 23 year old female teachers molesting their male students in junior high and high school.. how about them? Are they fair game under capital punishment laws?

That’s not molesting.. You’re just cockblocking.. Don’t playa-hate on the little man.. ‘nuf said..

I think so..

2. Conversations with our resident MD back for a week:

So what’s new in the world of medicine.. How’s the hospital?

I just finished doing rectal surgery, I’m done with assholes..

Amen brother, amen..

I had this one case where the ER doctor tried to pin an impacted patient on me.

What the hell is that?

Well it’s basically when a patient gets way too constipated and even enemas don’t work.. We call it impacted (backed up), meaning a manual extraction of excrement is required..

Wait you mean?

Yeah, rubber gloves, insert hands into the rectum and extract whatever’s blocked up in the lower intestines.. they tried to pin it on me, but I sidestepped that one..

That’s a relief, what do you have next?

Breasts, I’m doing breasts next… no more assholes for me..

Looking forward to hearing about mammaries and areolas..

3. A slightly inebriated afternoon conversation after walking into a friend’s living room:

Look, look at him passed out on the couch in front of the TV.. we should do something to him.

What do you want to do?

Go get some tissue paper and some moisturizer. And leave it next to him..

Then what?

Then we flip the channel to hardcore gay porn and hide the remote control, minus the batteries. Either he wakes up and freaks out looking for the remote control, or his pregnant wife walks in on him passed out from masturbating to porn. Whatever the outcome, we win either way.

Yeah lets do it.. wwwaaaiitt.. just a minute.. all fun and games aside, he is the revenge specialist. Remember what happened to ustaz. He’ll get you back when you least expect it. He lives for revenge, we’re basically giving him the opportunity to let his twisted revenge oriented brain run free. If we cross this line, there’s no turning back.

Vodka tonic before we mull over our fate?

Now you’re talking

Our Man Davis Part 4

2006-12-17T12:30:00.000+03:00

go back and read the beginning part 1, part 2, & part 3...

Three drinks ago Davis and Viv met up with Hanson at the bar of the centro restaurant, a swanky rat pack inspired joint with black and white pictures of dead mobsters adorning the walls. It was quite obvious to Davis, three drinks ago, that Hanson has a thing for Viv. In fact, it was also quite obvious to Davis that Hanson not only has a thing for Viv, but that there was also some sort sordid history shared between the two.. Standing tall with his footballer’s physique, stories about smuggling Cuban cigars into Miami by high speed motor boats, bar room brawls in Bangkok with juiced up trannies, wrestling dwarfs for money in mexico city – Hanson played the part of the archetypical male that Viv would fall for – not your average Joe. It was through this insecure discomfort that Davis found himself on his third glass of Speyside single malt; and with hints of jealousy brooding his thoughts he orders his fourth.

Hanson knew what was going on with this granola looking tree hugger. After their acrimonious breakup, viv wanted something easy, something predictable, something she could control, and that’s why she’s dating this… this guy. From his mannerisms and small talk, Hans quickly singled him out as a phish listening pot smoking homemade bread-baking ex-hippie who probably made his own compost with all the fruit peels and biodegradable garbage in his house, or some shit like that. The fact was, and still remains that this guy has no idea what he’s gotten himself into with Viv, but Hanson knew only too well. His whirlwind romance with viv led them both onto a path of wild jaunts, strange brews, mind-altering drugs, and forged press passes. In the two years that they were a couple, they gate crashed some ridiculously insane parties; made wild animal love at sunset, atop the observation deck of a skyscraper; hauled lobster traps to see how tedious of a job it really was; get arrested a couple of times; and get a number of stitches to just name a few.. good times he thought.. real good times..

Not wanting to keep Davis feeling uncomfortable with Hanson’s brutish talk, Viv Interrupts his daydreaming with the tapping of her watch, and the three pay off their tab and set out on their way. Grabbing hold of Davis’ arm, Viv flashes him her pearly whites and he suddenly feels a little better.. no matter what, she was here with him, that guy may have the stories and scars to prove he’s her type, but she’s here with him, and that suited him just fine, for now.. Hans also notices the grins shared between the two and does little to hide the disappointed look on his face..

Three blocks down Regent Street, the trio makes a right down to southland square and end up at a nondescript door with a small sign reading “Savon Masculin”. The “gentlemen only” sign hung outside this unknown, but extremely well hidden establishment. The little door is opened by a sharply cut man in uniform who eyes the three up and down before leading them down a hallway to what they assume to be the dining room.

“Savon Masculin” has been an institutional gentlemen’s club in the city for almost two hundred years now. Originally begun as a card room and opium den for the wealthy French denizens of the city, the club had taken a number of transformations, including a private speakeasy during the prohibition, and a a hush-hush burlesque cabaret with dancers shipped in from Paris. Maintaining its highbrow membership tracing back generations, “Savon Masculin” remained one of the best-kept secrets of the city, until now. The name is supposed to have been decided over a game of cards in which the winner, an entrepreneur in the soap business, went with a name to continue his legacy. The secret exclusivity of this place was felt as the three followed their guide walking past the grand foyer, closed doors, historical paintings, and shifty eyes, although they had every right to have their meal in their establishment, they certainly weren’t welcome.

‘ello ow may I ‘elp you? Yes, my name is hanson adams, I have a reservation for the degustation. Ah yes monsieur adams, I see you are three peepole, mais, the reservation is for two, you are aware that tonight eez a set dinner for a specific number of guests. You cannot expect the chef to accommodate you for not fully understanding ze strict regulations of tonight’s meal.. I ‘ave ‘alf a nerve to send you ‘ome.. I completely understand, but they will be eating, I will just seat myself with them at the table, if that’s all right with you and this friend of mine printed on this piece of paper the rest of the population accepts as legal tender. Well I suppose the torture of watching your meal eaten by someone else should compensate.. I will arrange it. Thank you for accommodating me..

Sliding up to Hanson, Viv starts questioning his motives and what his intentions really were. She couldn’t help but feel this was a deranged attempt by Hans to get into her good graces. Hans retorted with the most innocent of excuses offering his seat so the two could enjoy the meal, after all, she was more excited about tonight’s dinner than anyone of the three.. Davis, feeling awkward about being a spectator in a squabble that extended before his arrival into viv’s life, kept his mouth shut waiting in the wings. His suggestion to sit this meal out, was met with a firm no from Hanson, who insisted that his intentions remain as white as the linens on their table. In fact this would give him the opportunity to get to know Davis a little better and make up for the messy breakup and the drama that followed.

The dining room is not lavish for lavish sake, but still more than what you would normally consider rich in its settings with remaining functional and organized. The staff, standing around ready to pounce on the needs of any of the diners are stressed in their sharp uniformed Japanese designed outfits; they methodically pull chairs out, place napkins and bring forth the water.. Seating the trio at their table, the waiters orderly scurry off through their assigned walkways and flit and flutter in and out of the kitchen.. One of the well dressed crew approaches the table decanting some glasses of what looks to be a very promising new world vintage from a place you’d never consider visiting.. Another well-dressed attendant arrives to the table and begins to elucidate the experience soon to begin.

Good evening. My name is not necessary; neither are the names of the other servers. In fact we are all insignificant lemmings put in this room for one purpose, to be at your service. All you need to do is think about lifting an eyebrow and we will telepathically know you need something. In fact we will probably know, telepathically, what it is that you need before you actually voice it out. Please feel free to be as demanding and unnoticing of our effort as you please, after all, this is your experience, not ours. Tonight’s tasting will come in the form of 6 courses in no particular order except that of what the chef chooses and consists of a cheese, vegetable, fish, pheasant, essence and dessert. I hope you truly enjoy your meal and relish this opportunity to eat from the crafted hand of Chef Antoine, because chances are, you will never sample his fare again.

And with that, the enthusiasm from the diners fills the air as the other servers finish from their monologues and scurry off to the kitchen at the sound of a barrage of little bells ringing.. calling the waitstaff back to the kitchen 60 little bells resonate loudly enough through the room to announce the beginning of the first course...

The mini bells all ringing in a disorganized unison give off a parochial feel to the moment, too bad for Davis, he didn’t feel very spiritual about the whole experience to begin with. Everything happening with Viv was just turning into the sweetest love story of modern times, yet, the carnivorous exploits he had been on were enough to butcher his soul and force him down a path of bludgeoned character. One after the other, different types of meat, the taste, the idea of consuming a living being, just going up against everything he had ever been taught and known. The shame, the remorse, such strong emotions so quickly substituted with the joy and satisfaction with the presence of the beautiful companion he found in this amazing woman. Life, love, happiness, all have been enjoyed and felt on levels Davis never even knew existed.. Although too early to tell, Davis did know that this was a person he could actually see himself with, a lover he could never tire of, this relationship was quickly picking the steamy moniker of “it” – a tag that seemed to echo inside viv… With thoughts of his beloved shooing away his vegetarian conscious, she nudges Davis under the table and gives him an “I’m so excited!!” look and helps ready him for his next brush with his now shaky principles.

My latest disappointment.. HOGs

2006-12-13T16:13:00.000+03:00

Growing up, Harley Davidson, symbolized the modern outlaw in my meaningless book of characters. The name struck a rebel chord in me, that just settled perfectly in my psyche. Driving around the States, you’d pull up along a cluster of riders and they all looked mean, unkept, probably hungover and smelly, and that was just the women. I knew I found something that I could connect with; I liked their brazen attitude and short-term goals: booze, birds and bees. I felt solid in the 9th grade wearing my black classic harness steel toe boots with my school uniform.. I wanted a fatboy, in fact I was hoping to one day to visit the Harley Davidson head office, show them akira, the manga, and have them design me a Harley fatboy based on the bike in Akira.. the dog’s bullocks I tell you, the dog’s bullocks..

I couldn’t help but admire the carefree attitude and mischief as a group of hogs would ride through a narrow street setting all off the alarms on all the parked cars.. And then, you’d see them crack a smile as they were ready to rumble with anyone who crossed their path.. I had friends that used to ride all the way up to New Hampshire just to ditch the helmet laws and live free and maybe even die.. Stories about biker beaches bullying the Japanese super bikes off their turf made me respect their authority.. All these traits, and keeping up with my fascination for Captain America (reference, look it up), really had me sold.. On the weekends, you’d see the now-reformed ex-bikers, current VPs of large corporations who’s faces showed the scars of their illustrious bar fights and scary substance abuse, still getting in touch with their previous life.

And then, I moved back to the Middle East..

I spent a weekend with my beloved at a secluded mountain resort. Well it was us and a local Harley Chapter, who I’m sorry to say were the saddest bunch of outlaws my eyes have ever laid on.. I’m not going to interfere with the whole thrill of being on a bike and riding - that’s a special bond everyone makes between their machine and the road.. but for me, the persona was completely lost. The Rock of Foghat was replaced by the high pitched ballads of Air Supply, painful, very painful.. my qualms are as follows..

Marketing suckers..
These folk not only were trying too hard to look like they were part of a biker gang, but they actually sat there and bought every single piece of Harley Davidson merchandise they could get their hands on.. with all the little badges and patches and dumb stickers.. I can’t stand these little bumper stickers people put on their helmets. I’d normally give you the one finger salute but I’m on my ride (WHAT?? that’s the best you can come up with? That’s the sticker you’ve got on your helmet? That’s your level of how badass you are?? Why couldn’t it have been something like I call this hog your mother, she loves getting between my legs for a ride. At least I can respect that) Stickers are ok for a gag, but for your bad ass ride with your biker gang? Doesn’t say much about your biker gang Wyatt.. and what’s with the patches, what the hell are we the boy scouts?

And the merchandise… Que paso hombre? Did you lose your balls to the QVC channel? I can understand, the boots, the padded jacket, and maybe a couple of knick knacks.. but zippo lighters, t-shirts, jeans, socks, shot glasses, bed spreads, hanging racks.. I partially blame the Harley Davidson organization for this merchandising.. They created such a die hard loyal customer base, that they could sell bottled water and a lot of these bikers would buy cases of it.. don’t deny it..

Ohh and deary, those leather pants and bandana might have looked good on you when you were 23, but those days are long gone.. just cause Samantha Fox pulled the look off in the 80s, doesn’t mean you can too.. my poor retinas have been scarred for life..

Attitude..
This just didn’t settle right with me.. first off you’re a biker gang, albeit a tame biker gang, but for this weekend, you’re abiding by the rules of the road, live them.. Upon checkout, I was stranded at the front desk with a couple of these “ruffians”.. All joking about, ready for a laugh – they seemed like a jovial bunch, no one complaining about their headaches, but everyone talking about how much alcohol they consumed and who got a little frisky with who.. now I’ve had to make my fair share of late checkouts because of wild antics the night before, I have never in my life looked as fresh and just ready as this bunch..

The icing on my cake was when a couple of the crew were arguing with the hotel staff how they didn’t have anything from the minibar.. wait what? and might I add that these complaints were coming from the one guy who looked like the baddest of the bunch.. Vehemently denying how he touched the minibar – needless to say, I was shocked, you’re all talking about how boozed up you got, but everyone looked fresh to me.. you all talked about how pissed up you got, but no one reeked of alcohol. And then no one had a mishap with the minibar? Vivid imagery of some burly biker lifting up the minibar over his head and letting all the little plastic bottles fall into his mouth were quickly dispelled.. shame.. I was hoping at least the Harley crew would cause a little trouble.. just a bit would’ve been fine..

Disney World is a family vacation, a picnic out in the desert is a family vacation, a water park – family vacation.. bringing your annoying like snot of a kid with you on your ride? What are you thinking? A bunch of these people there need to just unwind, get boozed up, maybe a little promiscuous casual roll between the sheets, that’s all part of a weekend away.. but bring your child? This must have been the most annoying little 4 year old I had ever seen.. high on what looked like a little much sugar this brat decided to run around and give everyone a makeshift raspberry, including me, the casual bystander just looking to close out his bill.. I was ready to punt the little git, before I saw his mother attempting to discipline her son.. Come to think of it, the son’s disrespect for authority was probably the only real bad ass thing about that crew – and it had to come from a 4 year old.. tisk tisk..

To Harley Davidson, I’m disappointed in how you’ve managed to merchandise everything and turn your customers into walking adverts..

To real bikers, there’s a bunch of people giving you a bad rep, a really bad rep..

I’m off to drool over a Triumph, at least their branding and customer loyalty is still at an early stage..

Our Man Davis Part 3

2006-12-04T16:56:00.000+03:00

if you didn't read Part 1, here it is
and if you didn't read Part 2, here it is

BEEP
Viv, I know it’s been a while, but this is kinda important, so just hear me out.. Remember how we both agreed that if and when Chef Antoine makes a stateside appearance, we promised ourselves that we weren’t going to miss it? Well It seems good fortune took a very nice dump on us. After registering an interest on his forum six months ago, I got a mysterious email last week about a reservation for the day after tomorrow. It seems the master is back in town and we’ve got tickets to the show. Now I know, you might be still be a little upset about what happened with your cat, I mean it was wrong and stupid of me to try and break into your apartment, and then inadvertently stomp and kill your cat in the whole mess, I can see why you’d be upset. There really was no excuse for my actions. But I am past that period in my life and after countless hours of therapy, medication and a lot of soul searching and soul answering, I am completely over the whole situation, I really feel fine and want us to get back to being friends again. I just got a call this morning confirming the reservation, actually it felt more like it was being dictated to me, but hey it’s Antoine, I’m not arguing.. I agreed over the phone and the amount was immediately deducted – so I’ve committed us to dinner. I know whatever you’re thinking, and let me ease your worries by dispelling those thoughts from your head, I’m calling because this is Chef Antoine, not just some decorated 3 star chef, this is the underbelly of haute cuisine. Daring, and unperturbed by any morsel, this is the ultimate adventure in our culinary exploits – we will walk the tightrope of fine dining and gastronomical anomalies.. I feel like a babbling idiot for having drawn this message out so long, give me a call and lets enjoy this experience together, as friends of course..
END OF MESSAGE

BEEP
Hanson, wow, I really wasn’t expecting to hear from you, really. I mean, I thought we agreed I wouldn’t press charges as long as you left me alone… You tried to break into my apartment, then climbed up the fire escape, broke my window and cut yourself in the process, stomped and murdered my cat, and bled all over my floor. I walked into my apartment and found you laying there unconscious bleeding all over my carpet. I had to call the paramedics and then carpet cleaners immediately – do you know how difficult it is to clean human and feline bloodstains? I know about the therapy and the medication, I spoke to your mother and although I can empathize with her reasoning and attempts to convince me that you weren’t a cretin. It was very nice of you to think of me with the reservations and all, considering it was me who first introduced you to the epicurean realm of Antoine – and it was me who said that I’d gladly lop off and give away your left nut for an 8 course degustation by the chef.. All that said, I admit I am impressed that you managed to score a reservation, the last time he was in town, tables were being scalped for a couple of thousand dollars a pop – hats off, really.. Unfortunately, I can’t make it for a couple of reasons, the obvious one being that I still think you’re capable of going postal on me, and, I’m trying to think of the best way of saying this, but the words aren’t forming so I’ll just come out and say it: I’m seeing someone... I’m seeing someone, and I’m happy with him, and I don’t know how comfortable he’d feel with me going out to dinner with you. So thanks for the invite, but I’m seeing someone and I just can’t do dinner with you behind his back, and I don’t feel like explaining everything to him about us, so it’s just too messy.. Enjoy the meal
END OF MESSAGE

BEEP
Listen viv, I totally understand why you’d refuse the invitation, considering everything that’s happened between us the last couple of months, but I really did call you as a friend. It really is insulting that you’d think of me wanting to try and win you back – or that I haven’t healed completely in regards to our relationship. I’m a different person now, and I have started seeing someone myself, but she’s just not that into food, and I would’ve invited a buddy of mine, but you were the only one who’d really appreciate the meal and the effort that went into it. If it would make you feel better, why don’t you invite your boyfriend. I just called and squeezed a table for the three of us, if he’s interested.. Everything is so secretive, I won’t know the destination till a couple of hours before the meal.. maybe we should all meet up for a drink before dinner and then head out there.. I’ll give you a call..
END OF MESSAGE

BEEP
Hey it’s me, just wanted to say hi and see if you’re were free and interested in having the most exclusive / exquisite meal in town tonight.. dare I say it? maybe even this year... spoke to a friend of mine, well he’s more of an acquaintance and it seems chef Antoine de Baussy, umpteen star rated chef is in town and is looking to really cook up a storm. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of him, but Antione’s meals are always unconventional, strange and incredibly delicious. Having studied under the greatest of masters, his eccentricity has always gotten him kicked out of kitchens and restaurants – but he has a faithful following that will do whatever to taste his creations. He spends four months a year traveling the world sampling some of the most peculiar fare and exclusively preparing meals for those that can afford it. Eating a dish prepared by him is up there with drinking absinthe and taking art classes with van gogh. To be honest with you, I would die to eat his food, but I don’t like the person pushing out the invite too much. I mentioned having a boyfriend and you were immediately invited. I know it doesn’t mean much to you, but it does to me, and having you there would really make this special meal more memorable.. so what do you say? Wanna help a cute girl out? I promise to make it worth your while..
END OF MESSAGE

topics on my menu

2006-11-29T16:10:00.000+03:00

A little bit of random information for you on a very popular fish: Chilean Seabass is actually called Patagonian Toothfish. Some 30 years ago, Augusto “I’ll show you Junta” Pinochet opened up Chile’s waters to foreign fisheries, and it didn’t take long for the competition to heat up and fishing grounds to dry up. Local fishermen were forced to venture out into deeper more dangerous unchartered waters in which they pulled out an ugly looking, but very meaty whitefish (an anomaly of evolution). The meat was oily, meaning that it was very difficult to overcook and it worked with just about any way you’d prepare it, plus more meat meant more money. In order to market the fish, a snazzier name than the Patagonian toothfish was needed, so they went with the exotic yet sophisticated choice - Chilean Seabass. The popularity of this fish went through the roof and was in such high demand around tables all over the world that fishermen started to overfish those waters. Piracy and illegal fishing of the Chilean Seabass became a serious problem; prompting Government imposed restrictions to calm the frenzy, harboring worries that our craving for this delicious fish would lead to its extinction. With all the negative media involved around the illegal fishing of Chilean Seabass, restaurants have moved on to the next big whitefish… and it be called, barramundi, or Australian Seabass. Although the barramundi is quite popular in Australia, it’s only now starting to cause waves in North America and Europe. Now you know.

Another bit of food related talk: stemming from a conversation with my girl, which got us discussing a product I’m not too crazy about but popular in the Middle East, camel milk. The benefits from camel milk are supposed to outweigh regular cow milk with a much higher fat content and more proteins, but I just can’t seem to get myself to drink it. I read recently that a UAE camel farm in Al-Ain has teamed up with an Australian Company and they’ve developed ultra fine Camel Milk Chocolates. Now I’m not that into camel flavored chocolates, but I think it’s one of those gourmet weird foods that I could understand. I do like the direction that’s been taken with the camel milk chocolates and I’m thinking we should push more of the products from our region out there to different palettes. Camel milk could be the beginning: Chocolate flavored camel milk, Vanilla Camel Milk Shakes, cookies n camel cream ice cream.. the thought does merit further research doesn’t it? Are you listening ben & jerry’s? the end is near..

Since I can’t seem to get off the food subject.. After reading and thoroughly enjoying Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain, I learned something very interesting about people in restaurants that order their steaks well done. In my previous life, I used to cringe at my fellow diners when we’d go to a good steakhouse and they’d order their meat well done. I had visions of the chef flipping out over the customers' demands for overly cooked meat, sucked of all juices and flavor. I secretly hoped the chef would come bursting out of the kitchen, brandishing a cleaver , ready to give whomever a verbal lashing about the quality of the meat and how they were tainting the reputation of the dish by wanting it cooked well done. The truth is, chefs love people that order their steaks well done. A well done steak gives the chef the opportunity to get rid of his/her most horrible cut of meat, or the one that doesn’t look too good.. since you, the diner, don’t give a damn about the flavor of the meat and how well it’s been aged, the chef doesn’t have to worry about grilling it perfectly. Instead the chef can afford to give you whatever’s at the bottom of the meat bin, the stuff that’s going to expire soon.. Next time you order your steak well done, think about that.

And Finally, there’s a huge Vodka debate going on.. On one side of the argument, you’ve got Poland, Finland and Sweden arguing that if you’re going to call it Vodka, then you should distill the hooch from potatoes or certain grains. While France, Italy, Netherlands and other non-baltic states claim that you can use grapes or maple syrup to make vodka. The potato/grain-vodka is made a certain way argument is citing examples of how unless the cheese is made in Greece then you can’t call it feta (much to the disappointment of Danish and French white cheese producers). Another example is that unless it comes from the northeast region of France, it’s called sparkling wine, not Champagne. So the countries that produce Vodka the way it’s traditionally been produced should have the right to call their spirit Vodka right? The counter argument is that Vodka can be distilled a number of different ways, and that there are recipes to produce vodka that go back hundreds of years, that use a number of different ingredients: potato, certain grains, apples, plums, molasses, etc. The copout counter argument is that vodka is mainly consumed to be mixed with something else and that it has no distinct flavor, so who cares what it’s made with… It’s all very interesting, for you drinkers, how do you feel about this issue? Should Vodka, distilled from potatoes or grain be called Vodka and everyone else need to find another name? I’m a little torn..

Hope that’s some food for thought, or maybe thought for food..

juicebox lovebox

2006-11-22T10:16:00.000+03:00

I grew up in a very autocratic household when it came to what you were allowed to drink at lunch or during snack time. Smuggling soda into the house was always a dangerous game involving sliding the can into your backpack and transporting it into the house, you’d think we were transporting plutonium. If my mother, or anyone else on the snitch payroll found us with a can of soda/pop/cola, trouble would soon ensue with lectures about the rotting of teeth, exploding stomachs, and sugar-high driven crime sprees. The Draconian laws of my household weren’t just extended to carbonated beverages, minimum real juice in your juice box was regulated at 30%, anything below that, or any juice that began with sugar on the ingredients list was immediately deemed unacceptable.

One of the illegal and banned substances in my house was Sun Top, a regionally produced (with the help of the Danes) juicebox that came in a multitude of flavors containing: sugar, water, a dash of vitamins and about 10% actual juice or juice concentrate. Since the juice didn’t meet the minimum juice requirement, it was immediately placed on the embargoed super market shopping list. Now here’s the juicy bit: Sun Top’s marketing team came up with peelable stickers on the sides of every single juicebox involving a zany polar bear on all sorts of adventures (skiing, extreme sports, driving a sports car, roaming the desert, etc). They even took it a step further by releasing sticker albums for you to collect all the little stickers involving the Sun Top bear and his corresponding adventures. All the kids in school were drinking Sun Top and were able to fill up their sticker books and cover their folders on a daily basis. Flaunting their multicolored little albums, the stickers and their books became a widely accepted form of legal tender in the schoolyard. My protests to get Sun Top on the “safe list” in my house were met with a firm “no” and retorted with suggestions to take freshly squeezed orange juice instead. When I explained the nature of the stickers and how I needed them, I was directed to the death stare from depths of hades. To flirt with the illegality of it all, I took my Sun Top substance abuse to frightening levels – nothing was going to get in the way of little elementary school me filling up those sticker books. Whenever away from the prying eyes of any adult, I would guzzle juicebox after juicebox – filling my body up with all that bad sugar water, but also filling up my sticker book with the highly coveted polar bear walking the tightrope, him competing in the karate competition, and the hard to find Olympics series. Under the covers, in the bathroom, in supermarket aisles, the car, and any chance I got, I forced myself to drink Sun Top. In hindsight, the house rules were justified, I should’ve stuck with the healthy stuff; and the stickers, I don’t even remember what happened to them, probably trashed’em.

Thankfully, KDD (Kuwait Danish Dairy) juice was on the safe list at home, and we freely dabbled in the luscious nectar of mango and passion fruit. I don’t know how to put it without stroking anyone’s already over inflated ego, but KDD mango just might be the best mango juicebox on this planet. If you think I’m joking, then go out and buy yourself one, and see for yourself.. it’s not called mango nectar for nothing.. Some of my closest kiwi friends in Boston would get cases and cases of the stuff, that we carefully rationed out till the next shipment. The “vip kdd mango” status I enjoyed was greatly appreciated because of a number of things #1 nostalgia factor #2 cure for homesickness (being in boston in the winter, a little bit of home went a long way) #3 deliciousness #4 I could bend the ration ruling and drink as many as I wanted. Paal paaal paaal. It was called Mango Nectar, cause it was so thick and just tasted so nourishing... My ultimate KDD flavors in order: Mango, Passion Fruit, Fruit cocktail, Guava, Apple, Grape, and Grapefruit.. (not a big fan of the orange)..

Since returning to Bahrain, I’ve remained loyal to the KDD juices and work doesn’t feel right without a juicebox or two. Nothing says aaaaaah, like a nice cold slurp of passion fruit.. drinking this stuff really takes me back..

A big thank you goes out to Chan'ad for letting me swipe the suntop sticker picture off his blog.. cheers mate..

Our Man Davis Part 2

2006-11-19T09:12:00.000+03:00

if you didn't read part 1 here it is

With his vision shifting tricks on him, Davis woke up tussled in a strange bed of a strange room in a strange apartment. To add more confusion to his aching head, blurry vision and parched mouth, he was stripped down to his boxers. Fearing the worst, Davis wondered how many drinks he had? Did he do something stupid? What was the outcome of the evening with viv? He wondered if this was her Egon Scheile print staring back at him. Noticing his pants, Davis struggles out of bed and almost knocks over the wastebasket smelling of dried vomit and things not too ticklish to tell. This was bad, he thought, going home with viv and then just when the mood for animal sex is set, he ends up throwing up in her apartment in front of her.. What an impression, what grief, what a horrible smell. The events of last night flashed in front of his eyes, bringing a sharp stabbing pain gushing fake blood all over the floor. He ate meat.. he ate a fellow living animal.. he propagated the idea that cannibalism was ok.. The cold air above the covers sends shivers through his guilt-riddled body, and then he smells something all too familiar infiltrating his nostrils, something that reminds him of home. Fresh pumpernickel bread..

Exiting the room, Davis encounters his two best friends and resident couple of their group of pals, Jake and Rain. It was sometime during senior year in college that Jake and Rain hooked up and they haven’t looked back since. It was a beautiful summer day in which the constitution of the vegan icing held up, the experimental indie band “broken taillights lead to love” folked it up on the dance floor, and their wedding cake was consumed by all. Although Davis sometimes feels like a third wheel hanging out with them, they see things completely different.. Handing over the fresh bread and some softened almond butter to help settle his stomach, Rain begins with the grilling.

Well it looks like our upchucking troubled romeo is up, care to explain yourself nicknolte? You look like a train wreck, what the hell happened to you? Mustering an embarrassed smile, Davis approaches his friends and begins to mouth an apology for his antics, whatever they were.. Secretly, he was thankful he wasn’t doing this walk of shame in front of Viv.. His shrugged shoulders invited his friends to relate to him the events of their evening. After a scrumptious dinner of Jake’s famous vegetarian spinach and mushroom lasagna followed by a movie, the duo is awakened by the drunken cheers and jeers of someone out their window. Lo and behold, the drunken sot just so happens to be their dear friend Davis, who is looking like he desperately needs to sober up.. once helped inside their until just recently quiet abode, Davis regales to his friends the marvelous encounter with viv and how this is the happiest he’s been in years. He tells them of the wonderful laughs they shared, the interests in common, the connection, and most importantly the way her hand fit in his.. it all felt so natural.. and then, in an emotional train wreck his mannerisms take a 180 degree turn from his very drunk and happy self, to the manic depressive they never knew him to be.. Squawking on about not being able to live with himself, the hypocrisy, his wicked soul, the despicable despicability of his evening.. It was soon after announcing how disgusted he was with himself that his awareness began to flee his body. Feeling the slump, Davis ends up passed out in Jake’s lap.. the gurgles and burbles jake felt in his lap prompted a swift response leading to the disposal of their inebriated friend in their newly redecorated second bedroom.. Davis kept the peace disturbed for the rest of the night alternating between concert acoustical projectile vomiting and loud snoring.. Rain did mention that the only thing that kept her from throwing her friend out on the street was the hilarious early morning drunken rendition of “we built this city” by starship, in which Davis awoke, threw up, belted out a couple of lines hanging on the “rock and rollll” bit and then fell back asleep.. Davis, embarrassed, but slightly pleased that it wasn’t viv he was explaining himself to, apologized to his friends and chalked up the evening up to the foolproof defense of lots and lots of alcohol, and probably some unwashed vegetables.

*Cell phone ringing*
Davis fumbles through his pockets and produces his cellular phone which has “viv” blinking all over it.. the screen is showing off a picture of viv, taken last night with her lips puckered up.. good sign, at least she’s puckered up. Answering the call, the air suddenly feels cleaner.. the sound of her hello launches our man Davis back into a lull of serenity.. the pounding headache is soon a distant memory as the laughs and connections from the previous night are quickly brought back into the forefront.

Dropping the rules and dating standards of the late 90s and early naughties, Viv abandons the 2-3 day callback rule or whatever that silly movie pop culture inference was. She felt like talking to him and wanted to see if he felt the same, so she called. On this day, this very particular day, she wasn’t prepared to sit there and wonder what if. After all, it felt very right with Davis, in fact, it felt more right with him than anyone else in a longtime.. the idea of everything all happening too suddenly did strike her like a blunt object upside her head, or was that her own hangover? It didn’t matter because whether it was too early or too sudden, it wasn’t really registering in her head, she will do what she wants.. Viv composed herself and was just calling to see if he was suffering from a hangover like her, and if he’d like to continue their date aided by the perfect hangover cure…

Stepping into a puddle of sunshine, Davis couldn’t believe his luck - another date with the dame - this time lunch… viv asks for a little time to look somewhat presentable, a request happily agreed upon by the crusty looking dried vomit breath granola.. a quick trip back home, shower change and then meet up outside her building - very promising..

Staying in radio, they reconvene from their previous evening outside her delightful rennovated brownstone. Strolling down the neighborhood, a hodgepodge of identities.. Colombian flags hanging out the bodegas, the Pakistani curry palace and butcher shop, the bike messenger gangs, artists lugging their supplies, junkies passed out on the sidewalk, yuppies and their puppies, a lot of hodging and quite a bit of podging too. Taking a turn down summers they arrive at their destination… little defe.. The clientele and staff in the main room are all glued to the TV bolted to the ceiling, the number one Hispanic soap opera in terms of viewer-ship, Esmeralda.

Pedro greets his regular Saturday lunch crowd with much love, because they are like family, and that’s how the burly man does business, on a familial level. On Saturdays, they come for one thing and that’s his Menudo fin de semana. People drag themselves from all over both sides of the river for his famous hangover special. Today was turning into a soso day he thought, guess it was a tame weekend for many, an opinion soon altered once he spotted one of his regulars, who smiles back as she drags a companion in tow. Borracha, Cómo estás? I’m fine thanks, can we get a table for two? Jaayys of course, la casa de pedro es tu casa. Y tu novio? Yeah we just had a little to much to drink last night.. need a little recovery.. vamos, take that table there and I send someone. Gracias Gordo. borracha..

Viv’s two finger raise sends the waiter off with the mental order – he knows what to bring and soon scurries back with two orange sodas, and then scampers off again as the straws begin to bob up the bottles … back to their date, the two fall back into that easygoing conversation that just seems to work wonders for them. On the right foot, they have enough in common and enough not in common to make the whole polar opposite and parallel concepts seem more than just promising. She finds out about his parents and their organic tendencies, while he pictures her descriptions of spending her summers growing up at the beach. Prompted by his inquisitive looks around the restaurant, Viv does a little introduction to la casa de pedro, your own slice of little defe, Mexico city.. Pedro, originally from Guadalajara, came here and spent many years as a dishwasher, working his way up as a line cook at a fancy restaurant until he managed to save up some cash and open up a little piece of home here on foreign soil.. Incorporating the recipes of his mother and grandmothers, they make a mean mole (pronounced mohlay) and real Mexican food, none of that texmex mexas mumbo gumbo.. briefly touching on last night, they both admit to not remembering much other than that it was a great night, one to be relived again. Their level of comfort with each other, a clear indication that they’re more than just clicking together has them thinking all sorts of interesting thoughts lacing their conversations in the sexiest of talk. Davis mentioned the alcohol and how he really couldn’t stomach the idea of meat this midmorning, truth be told, he couldn’t stomach the guilt again and wanted to forget the carnivorous events of the previous night.. Viv told him to sit back and relax, she’s already ordered the dish with the magical hangover healing properties.. meat or no meat, this was the only thing on this planet that will cure their pain..

Strolling over in his checks and chef whites, pedro carries two steaming bowls over to their table. Although he now spent more time at the counter watching the Mexican soaps, Pedro still liked to dress up in his chef getup - just incase he had to teach those incompetent cousins of his a thing or two about real Mexican cuisine. Pedro noticed table six were suffering from a bad presentation of Guillermo and his shabby tamales, pendejo. The Menudo was all him though, aided by his wife Begoña, Pedro picks the choicest cuts of unwanted meat for this traditional soup and starts up from early Saturday morning to prepare for the breakfast/brunch/lunch/afternoon Menudo rush. Placing the two bowls of reddish soup in front of his customers he plants a crafty aluminium foil basket containing some warm tortillas, chopped onion, dried oregano, freshly chopped cilantro, and a couple of lime wedges on their crowded table.. bon provencho borracha. Gracias gordo.

The aroma wafting from the bowl up Davis’ nose was definitely foreign – yet alluring at the same time. There was a sun kissed touch of funk, a chilli citrus scent which excited his nostrils – but it all seemed to calm the throbbing pain in his head. His admittance of never having tried Menudo, prompted a Try it first and let me know what you think. Dutifully listening to his siren, Davis sprinkles some oregano, cilantro and chopped white onion into his soup.. a squeeze of lime followed by a stir of his spoon and prepares himself for his first bite.. his spoon reveals a number of little tidbits: some onion, chillies, hominy, but one thing’s for sure there’s meat in there..

A lifetime spent without ever having meat grace his lips and he’s forced into a situation twice in less than 24 hours.. Davis shudders looking at his date tuck into her soup and immediately notices a change in the demeanour in her face.. nothing kills a hangover like Menudo.. he nods off and stares at his spoon.. Although her company was enough to put his mind off the dehydrating effects of the alcohol consumed last night, the slice of pumpernickel and almond butter did very little for soaking up the pains in his stomach and his head.. The smell was starting to invade and convince him that a spoon would be worth it.. maybe he didn’t have to try the meat.. just a quick slurp of broth, little taste for curiosity’s sake. another little taste later, and the spicy chilliness of the broth with a crunchy sliced white onion and zesty lime juice combined for an incredibly tangy and nourishing taste in his mouth.. it didn’t just go down well, it went down great.. another spoonful of the broth tasted even better, wow, pedro really knows his Menudo.. Maybe it was time to try the meat he thought.. his body was telling him something, that whatever he was feeding it was working and he was actually feeling better.. quickly closing his eyes, Davis shoved a spoonful of soup into his mouth, this time with a little bit of meat. The wavy texture of the meat releasing tangy bits of soup onto his tongue carried a multitude of flavours.. the chilli, lime, onion, tang and a little bit of funk worked great. Feeling foreign in his mouth, the meat rubbed against his tastebuds and pushed a little bit of funk into his mouth.. the chew was slightly easy and slightly rubbery.. Going down his throat the wavy texture went down easier than he thought..

You like it? A question Davis replied with a serious nod and another spoonful.. I don’t like telling people what Menudo is until people have tried it. Keeping information from people isn’t the best way to have a meal of something you don’t know. Pedro probably has the best one in town and I just wanted you to have a taste see if you can handle the soup and then see if you’re man enough to handle the truth. Of course he is man enough, Davis and his sundried tomato and grilled zucchini panini sandwiches are definitely man enough, the fact that he’s shoved his principles to the back of his throat is proof he’s man enough, but she doesn’t know that.. Perturbed at how his wonderful date has been constantly surprising his morality, Davis remembers the caveat to this quandary: he never mentioned his vegetarian ways, no fault of hers – how can he fault her, she’s just acting on the information he’s given her.. I just thought it was latin america’s homage to Puerto Rican boy bands.. to remain polite, viv employs recycled laughter track 23..

Really enjoying her soup, she gets underway in her explanation of the time-honoured tradition of global peasant food. In the days long gone, the Patrons of the haciendas used to get the choicest cuts of meat from the animals, leaving the offals and waste parts to the peasants. It was through slow cooking and experimentation, that led some cook to the discovery of the edible and deliciousness of this unwanted bit of animal meat. I mean who would’ve though that the honeycomb pocket texture of a slow cooked cow’s stomach would be the best method to deliver the tangy spicy broth onto the diners palette. She explained that beef tripe soup was almost a national dish in Mexico and is known to have magical healing effects on alcohol beaten bodies - a replenishing quality Davis was feeling throughout his body.. Menudo normally takes a long time to prepare, with the meat being so tough and all, and is normally served after a wedding or new-years eve to help with people’s hangovers. Halfway through her explanation, Davis comes to an impasse, his hangover is calling for more of this funky cow stomach soup, while his head is telling him he might as well go out and try freebasing cocaine while he’s at it. The evil bastard that he is has just disappointed everyone close to him, from his parents to his friends to his ideals and to the animals, the poor little animals... Luckily or unluckily for his conscience, the irresistible charms of viv have helped ease his guilt and push his principles at the bottom of his worry pile.

I know I should’ve told you earlier on about Menudo, but I just wanted you to try it, and if you were as hung-over as I was then maybe this helped. Some people can’t handle the fact that they’re eating the stomach, but then they turn around and eat different cuts of meat off the animal.. to me, I say, if they’re going to butcher the animal to begin with, then we might as well eat everything we can. And with that, Davis finds a rope of logic in her words leading him to another spoonful of the soup and wavy honeycombed meat once known as a buttercup’s belly..

thoughts of the day

2006-11-16T17:34:00.000+03:00

Something that I never really thought about up until recently, but have decided that I do not care for too much is the surf and turf concept at many restaurants. I just don’t understand the idea of meat and fish on the same plate. I can understand one course being a meat and the other seafood, but together on the same plate? Why would you want to mix two types of meat right there and then? This one of those things where mixing and matching just doesn’t seem to work, but people still seem to find grilled shrimp layered on top of your sirloin real classy. I bet these are the same people that order their steaks well done. Dumb Advert inviting me for “Reef and Beef” night at one of the upscale hotels in Dubai got me thinking about this.. Typical stupidity by a dumber than they seem marketing team.. but I’m sure people will go and eat, cause it’s a special.. Don’t get me started on specials..

We have discovered a new game based on keepie uppie, at the men’s restroom on my floor, and we’re calling it peepee uppie (if you have a better suggestion, I’m all ears..). We’ve got these little disinfectant cakes in the urinals at work; in fact they’re so little that they’re small enough to move around with a constant stream of pee. With careful aim and precision, you can move the little cake around the urinal with your pee and even float it up. The trick is to restrict yourself from a trip to the loo until you’re about to burst, then time yourself as you try to keep the little urinal cake floating up. It’s actually a lot more difficult than it sounds. It’s become a big secret tournament for those who pee at the Urinal (some weird arab thing, but some men just can’t seem to use a urinal). You female readers may think this is just absolutely asinine, but for the men reading this, my record is 7 seconds..

Over the past 6 months or so, I have been working on a secret camera phone project entitled, “pictures in elevators” (you were expecting something grand and elaborate weren’t you?). Anytime I’d have to take a trip up or down the elevator, I’d tow my cell phone with it’s magnificent 2-mega-pixel camera and then, using the mirror or some weird angle, try to take an interesting picture. I had my timing down perfectly: the elevator door opens up, no one’s inside, I slide my camera phone on and immediately start scouring for an angle.. I basically had enough time to snap a photo before I got to my floor or someone else walked into the elevator. I’ve got some blurry pictures, but even some of them turned out really cool. I even tried taking a shot with someone else in the elevator with me, but that got a little awkward when they noticed me trying to take the shot through the mirror. I’m telling you this because, one of my main studios, the office elevator, is being remodeled and they’ve removed the mirror. I’m a little disappointed that my project is coming to an end. The new elevator does look like a subzero fridge though, which is kinda cool and there is a little reflective space that I’m going to try out.. I’ll keep you posted..

With the weather changing for the better, getting your flu shot is the latest most talked about topic on the island. You think you might be coming down with something.. you should go to a clinic and get your flu shot for the year. I’m not saying the Flu shot doesn’t work when you’re coming down with something, but whatever happened to Echinacea and other natural remedies? People here on the island are so quick to get jabbed or take the advice of a doctor or pharmacist, before reading up about what they can do. A couple of weeks ago I came down with the flu, the result of a couple of inoculations. I decided to head over to the pharmacy and see what I can pick to make me feel better. The pharmacist hands me my flu medicine, which contains Pseudoephedrine (PSE), and I make a quick joke about “isn’t this now considered very dangerous?” She looked at me funny, so I tried to explain that medication with PSE is now highly monitored in the US because people cook up Methamphetamine (crystal meth) from it, forcing pharmacists to ask you all sorts of questions and limiting you to 3 packages for every 24-hour period. Her “deer caught in my headlights” look really put my mind to ease about trusting your pharmacist cause they know something about the medication they give you. I’m just thrilled that my pharmacist is keeping up with what’s happening in their field.

Our Man Davis Part 1

2006-11-13T16:10:00.000+03:00

Just a little introduction: a idea hatched that has quickly manifested into a multi-part short story. If you like it, there's a part 2, and if you like that, well lets not get too carried away. Anyways, without any further delay...

Amidst the laughing and loud exchanges of the restaurant's main dining room, the server comes around with his powerfully bleached white shirt carrying two oversized extremely heavy plates, weaving in and out of earshot conversations, pirouetting around table 7 with great ease. It was the type of eatery that tried to loudly insinuate its class and fine dining experience by weighing down their tables with those huge oversized extremely heavy plates.. Rudolpho was enjoying serving the diners at table 7, his sixth sense felt a first date, and from what he could tell, things were going well. Muy Bien Rudolpho thought, Muy Bien indeed..

So far, dinner with Vivienne had gone off magnificently, Davis still couldn't believe his luck at how well he was connecting with this girl.. From their chance encounter at the coffee shop, where he fell victim to her smoke scarred voice box and oversized black sunglasses ordering her black coffee, to this dinner in which her cigarette smoke made her look even more mysterious and alluring like in a old black and white film.. What she saw in his Birkenstock shuffling self, he'll never know, but as they say, fortune favors the brave, and on that specific morning, our man Davis took his chances.. in all honestly, it wasn't Davis who took his chances, Viv noticed the neat little granola bar trying to check her out and she decided he was a pretty nice on the eyes.. After a quick quip, they were soon chuckling about the extravagant drawn out orders at these overpriced coffeehouses, a joke Davis snorted at while he hid his grande decaf saffron chai tea latte with no fat skimmed soymilk and refugee free raw cane brown sugar from her inquisitive eyes. The persistent ticking on their wristwatches ushered them both to rush off to their respective places of employment, leaving a short pause in the air soon followed by plans for dinner. Davis suggested the time and Viv suggested the place.

Throughout the time at the bar waiting for their table, Viv, found out more about her mysterious granola bar over a number of quickly drunk martinis.. She could sense his uneasy relaxed manner as he shuddered at her thing for athletes and retorted with his accuracy at bocce, a joke or not, she still wasn't sure.. He did have some funny stories with his travels around the world and his animal stories, like the snake slithering incident while relieving himself out on an ancient burial ground in the dense jungle during his time in South America with the Peace Corps. Round after round of drinks, they laughed away the nervousness one would experience from a first date with someone they were attracted to.. swill after sip they invited the comfort bubble to encompass them both..

The server made his way to the table and kerplunked the plates with a smile in front of the two hitting it off.. Davis really paid no attention to what he was ordering, a quick I'll have whatever you're having, resulted in an incomprehensible order with a wink from the server.. Since pre-dinner drinks had gone so well, he thought this would be the perfect mantra to carry him through the evening, a little bit of blind faith and trust in his companion's order. With an instructed air of pomposity, Rudolpho, calls on the attention of the diners at table 7 for something resembling a pre-meal shuffle, in which he presents a sliver of his incredible knowledge of the Bolero. The onus is on him to dazzle the diners with his dance moves and foot shuffling – this could make or break the date, he thinks, best give them the big finale making it all so memorable. He finishes off his moves with a suppressed but definitely personalized stamp and then directs their eyes to the two plates of sirloin steak in front of them..

In a spell resembling a touch of vertigo, Davis sat there frozen and shocked. He remained traumatized staring at the plate of chopped up meat of a fellow living being grilled to the point of visible markings.. Aghast at what he got himself into, somewhere in the middle of having drinks with the woman who has occupied his dreams of recent, our man here forgot to mention he is a strict vegetarian. Actually not just a strict vegetarian, an austere vegetarian. Davis founded the Vegan movement in college, in which he petitioned to get organic vegetarian food served at all the food outlets on campus. He led the line at the "great meat massacre" in '04, a very nicely staged protest against the illegal slaughtering of the pink spotted calves of western Greenland. He participated in the farmer’s market sit in, demanding minimum wage for the cheap labor lettuce pickers. How could he have forgotten to mention to his date that he does not eat meat? Damning the martinis under his breath, his eyes drifted to a place where the poor little steak was un-cooked, un-hacked, re-fused, re-skinned, and re-animated. Not exactly sure on what he should be doing, the fork rests difficultly in his hands.

Meanwhile, Viv turns to her date and proceeds to explain her love of meat and how being a carnivore is all she's ever known, a chord that struck a cringe in Davis.. in fact she wouldn't know what to do with vegetables if they didn't come with a side order of meat, a gag that drew out a panicky laugh from our man. She proceeded to tell him that this Sirloin presented for his epicurean pleasure was actual Kobe beef.. You can only call it Kobe beef if the cow was slaughtered in Kobe, Japan – otherwise it's Kobe Style (not the real thing). The special thing about this meal is that the meat has been specially flown in from Japan, giving them the "real deal", making this experience even more exclusive than he thought. Viv knows the head chef, and thought it would be a fitting surprise for what's turning into a great first date. She went on for a bit about the diet of beer and sake makes a world of difference with the marbling and how you can really tell the difference between Kobe and Kobe style.. the fat melts just perfectly helping the meat sear from the outside..

Little beads of sweat began dotting Davis' forehead as his level of comfort crashes through the floor.. Since the backdrop of this meal was a special occasion, he found it difficult to admit his abhorrence of cooked meat to his date. He thought about the situation.. Him being a strict vegetarian, meeting someone who could potentially be the woman of his dreams, and having her invite him to an exquisite meal. What was he to do? He thought about his parents, the former radicals and now organic farmers that vandalize local farms that use pesticides and unnatural growing processes on weekends with spray paint. He thought about how he spent his entire life having never tasted any kind of meat thanks to his mom's homemade veggie burgers and tofurkey. He considered their disappointment at their proud vegelete actually indulging in the one thing they tried so hard to teach him was wrong. The plate stared back at him as he pondered his options.. This poor defenseless animal was fed alcohol, massaged and then slaughtered and flown across the globe to be hacked into pieces by a mad machete wielding butcher, cooked, sizzled, eaten and digested by Viv and himself.. Then again, he had never tried steak before, and if he was going to indulge in the ultimate of sins, he might as well consider Prized Kobe Wagyu Beef a good place to start..

Slicing through her cut of dead cow, Viv shows off the undercooked cooked raw meat pink center surrounded by the expertly marked grilled crust. Making contact with the succulent morsel, her taste buds are awash in a sensation best described as the best perfectly cooked piece of meat she has ever had. There was the slightest inkling of displeasure knowing that the animal was raised with such care for the sole purpose of being killed - cooked - eaten - and passed. However, said displeasure was placated by the incredible softness of the meat, melting on her tongue sending her ideals off for a night of dancing. Amidst the orgasmic sounds reflecting her opinion and possible events to come, she notices a strange air about her companion - who although is really pushing her “no sex on a first date” rule, has gone a little quiet. Her date was sitting across inspecting his plate... Just as he begins to look slightly like melting into his seat, he shakes his head and begins to tackle his meal. She then watches him and his little oddities around the steak, which inadvertently reveal him to be the connoisseur as he carefully slices into his steak and inspect the doneness of the meat with a certain smidgen of skepticism.

After beating logic at his own game, Davis decided that it’s best to know what meat tastes like in order to appreciate his vegetarian ways further. His mind was made up.. just this once and only this once he was going to bend the rules a little, and shelve his ethics for a slice of love pie. After all, this was the best date he’d been on in years; there was no way he was going to make the whole situation uncomfortable now. No one has to know about this, he was just going to sample this exquisite fare and then he’ll know.. he stabbed the chunk of meat he just sliced through and began to raise the fork to his mouth.. His lips trembled with the idea of committing the definitive of sins in his leftwing doctrine of life, but a smile from Viv seemed to remind him of why he was doing this, why he was going to eat this banned meat and why he was going to prevail. With a revived drive, Davis sunk his fork into his mouth and began his dance with the devil, the meat devil that is.. At first, the texture of the meat fooled him, there was no crunch, it was soft, yet there was a certain resistance from the crust of the steak, the bite carried the same consistency that Davis envisioned meat would. The flavor released on his taste buds carried the salt and pepper used to rub the meat, a twinge of smokiness due to the grilling process. The meat in itself rolled around his tongue and with each bite, the juices were freed into his mouth releasing a certain melt away quality. The chewing continued, the meat gave away with every bite releasing more and more flavor into his mouth. And then with the first swallow, Davis decided that once you put the thought of eating a once living being, Kobe Beef actually tasted pretty good.. A smile eased its way back onto Davis’ face, another bite was eaten, and the conversation came flowing back.. he soon thought less and less of the defenseless cow that was slaughtered and more about the deliciousness of the cooked meat and the wonderful evening he was having with Viv.

Thinking about his actions, about his big secret, Davis thought it would be best if he kept his mouth shut about his evening, after all no one knew he was a vegetarian…

Movie Trivia for the Trivial

2006-11-06T15:08:00.000+03:00

1. What’s the name of the sword in Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon?

2. What was the recipe Clemenza taught Michael in the Godfather?

3. Why did George Lazenby only do one James Bond flick?

4. What was the name of the falcon in the Royal Tenenbaums?

5. How many people did Rambo kill in Rambo 2?

6. Who was the cab driver in the MTV movie 200 cigarettes?

7. If you had to have sex with milla jovovich, would it be fifth element milla? resident evil milla? or return to the blue lagoon milla?

8. In the Transformers movie, who did the voice for hotrod? The original Transformers animated movie..

9. How long does Johnny Depp live in his premiere for Nightmare on Elm Street?

10. Name three movies Delroy Lindo has done..

11. In what 80s movie did the main character wear an iconic t-shirt saying “I heart toxic waste”?

12. What was the official title of Lando Calrissian on cloud city?

13. In Y tu mama tambien, what did they call themselves (diego luna and gael garcia bernal)?

14. What was the powder in the Princess Bride?

15. Where did this line come from “Emmmillliiooo , Emmmillliiooo!!”

16. Who was dom deluise’s alter ego in the Cannonball Run?

17. In the final scene of Boyz n the Hood, what is ricky baker holding when he gets shot?

18. What was the name of Turkish’s first boxer in Snatch?

19. In what movie did Tony Hawk first hit the silver screen?

20. Who did the lead villain in Commando remind you of?

It began in Africa

2006-11-02T15:21:00.000+03:00

While sipping on a Ramadany after futoor pick me up, a mutual thought stemming from a brainstorming conversation, leading to a communal conclusion on our destination: Zanzibar it shall be.. We needed some adventure, we needed some spice, and I needed to get jabbed a couple of times in the arm to fight off yellow fever, meningitis, and the flu… the following excerpts of wisdom are what I brought back with me..

Touching down in Dar es Salaam airport, our goal was to get our visas, get though passport control, pull our luggage, pay for and catch our connecting flight all within a somewhat reasonable time frame. I was a little hesitant we’d be able to pull all this off, and in hindsight, my anxiety was warranted. After an exhaustive and confusing muddle getting our visas, we arrive at the transfer desk only to find out that we have been barred from making our flight. Thinking I’ll use some of my college education and airline email confirmation logic, I am soon standing outside the window talking to an apathetic airline sales rep who’d rather tear off the appendages of her dot matrix printout than listen to me. My pleading and attempts to push my normally well-received US dollars through the window slot was of no use. The combination of flashing US dollars and disheartening situation was drawing attention from some very unwanted tick-like conmen. One of these enterprising peddling gentlemen interrupts my negotiations to inform me that we will not make this flight, but,, he knows of another flight at another airport which is taking off very soon,, but,, we don’t have much time and that me and my very beautiful companion needed to follow and leave with him.. Angrily brushing the papasi off, I find out that we can take a flight in 3 hours and resign myself to waiting it out in the Flamingo Café at the airport. 3 Kilimanjaro beers later, I accept my defeat and wait for my flight, cursing my luck. Arriving in Zanzibar, we are exhausted and just looking to get to our hotel, flirting with rain once more, our car barely makes it to our destination. She tells me that after keeping her cool the entire time, if the car broke down on that dusty road in the middle of the night on the way to the hotel, she would’ve completely lost it. I finally learn to chill the fuck out and just enjoy my time - hakuna matata, it really means no worries..

Public figures and taking coffee.. Although Zanzibar is much better off than other parts of Africa, they still take coffee there (gifts, bribes, bakhsheesh).. people need to survive, and anyplace you can find it you take it.. a lesson quickly learned is that you will hemorrhage cash for the stupidest of reasons, and sometimes you’ll hate the way it’s sucked out of you (not the fact that it’s sucked out, the way).. Qassim, our guide, and local public figure brings a flask of coffee with him on his drives for when he gets stopped by the police – when they ask to sit down for some coffee he can always offer them a cup..

I never thought I was a Safari kinda guy, turns out I am.. Being in an environment in which there are so many incredible animals moving around really picks at your curiosity.. whether it was carefully trying not to make eye contact with the primates jumping about on my walk to get some breakfast, the lizards and salamanders on my stroll down to the beach, incredible white crabs on the beach, barracudas freaking the schools of fish out, or the bountiful urchins and lovely starfish, I was fascinated by all the creatures that came across my way.. There was something very strange about being right next to a bunch of monkeys and realizing that there is no cage, there is no one to help you out, and that I am the one invading their space. Coming from an arid climate, that’s somewhat of a concrete jungle, you don’t really see much for animals except alley cats, stray dogs, and some desert geckos. Dreamt about elephants duking it out, she discussed the weirdness of giraffes as animals. Need to satisfy this new felt hunger for a Safari.. it could happen to you too..

In a place where so much pain has been felt, people still find the time to smile.. Zanzibar was the trade port of East Africa, with traffic in, spices, ivory and humans. The Europeans may have pillaged the western coast of Africa for slaves, but it was the Arabs that did East Africa in. Recounting the horror stories would truly shake you to your core, with the air about the cells and chains hanging heavy on your conscience… The atrocities were shameful with painful scars as reminders of a painful past, yet amidst all this traumatizing history, the people have moved on and have chosen to educate rather than castigate about their past. Another eye opener was the devastating effect AIDS has had on people’s lives and touching acts of humanity.. A six year old girl orphaned because of the disease and her adoption by a family that could afford to give her a loving household but not much else.. Really makes our life of lattes and internet connections seem like a meaningless sack of horseshit..

Although we had to eventually return to our lives, it was on Zanzibar that we purposefully left our hearts. With a promise to return, Africa remains where it all began..

feelings on mahmood.tv being blocked

2006-11-01T09:02:00.000+03:00

Ramadan: Day 29 or 30, depending...

2006-10-22T13:21:00.000+03:00

It's been a while.. a little under the weather (thanks for asking) and then been busy preparing for an upcoming expedition into an undiscovered land. We're on day 30 of Ramadan and this is the final stretch.. This year (year three on br if you were wondering) in my holy month posting, I thought I'd wait till the end to digest everything and reflect. A discussion over some sheeshas brought about these points..

The importance of being a lemon.. juice, particularly lemon, is a staple beverage during this holy month. Different houses prepare their lemon juice according to their specific taste. Drinking lemon juice in Ramadan is like playing Russian Roulette, you’re never sure what it’s going to taste like. There's nothing like taking that first sip of juice and finding out the person who made it was fasting and didn't test the level of sweetness.. Starving yourself all day to fill your mouth with a nice sip of bitter lemon, mmm.. Sometimes the juice is either too diluted or too spiked with the zesty citrus burst of sour shock.. There's lemon with mint, even a lemon lime combination is not unheard of. Some people prefer to go packaged, although it's not how I roll, I'm not one to complain too much..

Eating was SO out this Ramadan.. A common occurrence at the meal table, no one's eating anything anymore.. I'm not doing any rice, I'm trying this hydate first eat later routine, I don't have an appetite after starving myself all day, I don't like to eat heavy to start, it’s a low carb holy diet, the list just goes on and on. As opposed to the regularly scheduled gluttonous massacres of the lamb carcass, people are opting for a soup salad combo… what has happened to us? All of a sudden, it's not cool to pig out for iftar.. Instead of packing on the pounds with fried tidbits, Muslims are slimming down with meditative fastation.

Everyone was about animation this Ramadan… this month is the equivalent of our sweeps season on tv.. Advertisers scramble for a slot, while production studios push out their soap operas, religious, historical, and comedy shows. There’s usually some Kuwaiti serial / quiz show / sitcom about pop culture and the happenings of today’s world that grabs everyone’s attention. But this year, it was all about Animation, people wanted to get on that faster than 2 for 1 Tuesdays at the Striporama. If you weren't, then you should've been watching the Bahraini animated comedy sitcom (Arab Road).. a neighborhood with characters from all over the Arab world, each from a different country filling out an obvious stereotype. A lot of subtle tongue in cheek humor poking fun at ourselves along with our trials and tribulations.

21st century Ramadan tents.. Maybe I haven’t been out too much, but they're so hi-tech now.. apart from the really nice new matching cushions and little foot rests the tent also boasts an air conditioner if you please. The colored lamps have been lit and are all hanging giving off that ramadany feel to it. Wireless internet is complimentary and the macchiatos are especially good.. the only thing they need to work on is justifying the cover charge. You will have to sort out a tent so book in advance cause the host is swaggering about looking only to seat the beautiful people. Minimum table order is a magnum of karkadai, you know how it is..

Freaky Eids.. A common occurrence in the Arab world because after 29 days of Ramadan, the moon watching panel (not sure who they are, but I’m willing to bet some old men with limited eyesight) come out on a roof to see if the moon’s making a cameo. I’m not knocking anything, but there have been cases of freaky eids where you think you’ve got one extra day of Ramadan and then all of a sudden someone spots the moon and you’re scrambling to get your last minute shopping in. do they use telescopes or is just them and their eyesight? Does anyone know? The other thing about moon watching panels around the Arab world, is that they sometimes have conflicting announcements. It is a little weird sometimes getting news about different countries announcing eid while others don’t,“Egypt still has Ramadan tomorrow, Kuwait have announced Eid, Saudi not yet, and we’re still waiting on Bhutan to get back to us..”

Well that’s what’s been on our minds this Ramadan.. What was on yours?

To everyone reading this, Happy Eid.. I’m off to spend a couple of days in a strange land, trying not to believe the hallucinations from the malaria pills..

pulling a mak.tv

2006-10-07T23:33:00.000+03:00

"does anyone know what this is?"

cd binge therapy

2006-10-03T12:53:00.000+03:00

If you've been paying attention to anything I've written (it's ok, I don't pay attention to what I write either) then you'd already know that I am a music junkie in the most absolute "in need of help" sense.

Critically requiring some retail therapy to ease my pain and suffering, I run off to flirt with those lovely folks at cduniverse. I started off this spree with the need to pick up the new hot chip and futureheads album (just some stuff I've missed out on buying).. Soon after I pick up those two, a neurotic high pitched alarm goes off in my head launching me into an exercise of trying to remember names of bands and albums I want. Wait wait wait what was the new band from the 'death from above 1979' guy called again? Mstrkrft, oh yeah, that.. click click click click click.. this goes on for a bit, click click click click.. then like that full feeling you get from gulping down a big glass of water, my cart swells up to the point of it breaking into the eligible for free shipping territory..

Loosening my belt and undoing the top button on my jeans, I continue on with my clicking.. hey I wonder if yo la tengo have anything new.. hmm.. indeed they do.. click click click have les savvy fav done anything? No, damn.. my quest adjusts itself into buying what I feel like listening to… I could use something electronic and chilled out and I really feel like some good new soulful music.. research research research, the new zero 7, sure why not.. click click click.. something soulful, Anthony david? Click click click.. since I’m here I should beef up the French house collection.. De Crecy’s back? He never left? Dang.. click click click..

Before I know it, I'm arranging payment and delivery for 32 cds I cannot live without out, that I would die without, that my life would mean nothing without.. I need them, I want them, I love them.. Finalizing my transaction and then almost immediately kicking myself, I start remembering some more albums I've been meaning to get.. Scribbled down for my upcoming purchase.

Then comes the hard part, the waiting.. I try to listen to my current cds, but the impatient feeling lingering around in the back of my head is making me disregard the good music piping through the speakers, and i long for something else.. a day or two later I get notification that everything's shipped to my international courier po box – yes yes yes, not long now.. this dj kicks compilation sounds so stale right now, and if I throw on another wacky tune from islands I think I'm going to start fantasizing about the muppets and miss piggy. a couple of days more, I get notification that my stuff's arrived in Bahrain and I can go and pick it up.. yakpot..

Trying to keep a lid on the bubbling excitement at the international courier’s establishment, they check my number and bring forth the larger than normal brown cardboard box.. b-i-fuqin-g-o.. yeah you ring me up, I'll just check up on my cds, ohh you need to look at the tag on the box? i just want to make sure they're all, one sec.. kkkhrrrriiissshhhhh. Before the person behind the counter has a chance to look at the box, and the people in line behind, I’ve got my suit jacket draped across the counter, I've sunk the teeth of my car keys into the masking tape and have pulled the flaps open.. at first sight, I do nothing but let out a satisfied haarruummphhh.. the ferociousness of Hernán Cortés burns through me, as I hoard my box and lay claim to this Aztec gold.. the sight of these cds all neatly accounted for in this box crack a grin on my face and a chubb in my pants…

What to listen to? which ones to pick? My fingers dance along the cd cases, my eyes dart across the cover art, my tongue licks my lips, I’m just about ready... the possibility of unearthing the next big tune in my “top all time tunes list ever” makes this purchase, the wait, the everything, all worth it.. In the middle of this rush, I lose myself in between paying for the delivery and dazedly walking back to la voiture. Once in the car, I begin tearing off the plastic wrappers off my cds, a task I no longer consider frustrating... I have perfected this method in which I tear off the wrapper with expert guile (never timed myself, but I’m pretty sure I can remove a cd from a plastic wrapped case in less than 5 seconds) , roll it into a ball, and then using the tape bit from the cd to keep it all securely balled up.. making for a quick headers and volleys tournament...

Based solely on the cover artwork, I pick 6 cds to load into my changer. I start my open ear and hope to bear fruit from my shot in the dark cd binge session. So far so good, the French house beef up has been successful, the sophomore albums purchased have not disappointed. The mstrkrft has been pretty amazing, the frames cool too, and I’m really digging the new yo la tengo. fuqme, retail therapy really does work..

Just so we’re all on the same page, receiving new cds means you can forget about asking to borrow them. I will not lend them to my friends, I will not lend them to my kin I will certainly not lend them to green eggs and ham – not until I’ve had my fill of them. Andy Ward taught me that it’s totally fine to hoard your library and be an ogre about it, that’s how he still has all his cds. If you meet certain criteria in my book then I will possibly make you a copy or you could fall into the list of people with borrowing privileges (highly coveted). A certain someone never bothered to return my sasha & digweed northern exposures 3 (the impossible to find European version that had one extra track from the American edition, the original remixed “silence” tune from Delirium, not the one you can easily find on some bullshit compilation, the original progressive track, that no one can find anymore except illegally downloaded), and since then, I’ve put my guard up – I just couldn’t let it slide...

You don’t even want to know what happens to me at a record store…

BROTHERMANDUDE

2006-09-19T17:51:00.000+03:00

We all grow up with dreams.. Some want to be racecar drivers, female astronauts, footballers, ambassadors, businessmen, ninjas, I wanted to be a fire truck (disappointed from a very young age).. My good friend Hassan had a dream just like everyone one of us.. His dream involved music, rock n roll to be more precise.. While we were all contemplating that greedy feeling burning inside of us, Hassan was actually thinking about performing in front of a sea of people.. He was cracking smiles to the eventual sound of the audience singing his music back to him.. the reveries we all have..

During his time away from home in a very far away place where people didn’t care where he was from or what his last name was, he decided to delve headfirst into music. He started singing any chance he got, and eventually joined up with some guys to form a band. Eventually, his time away from Bahrain was up and Hassan came back, but this time, he came back with recordings.

Since my return to Bahrain, just over three years ago, we all spent countless hours fooling about microphones, recording, jamming, banging on the drums, writing silly music, yelling for more cowbell and heading into the staww-dio for a secret listen.. Andy believed in Hassan’s music and put his career in London on hold to come and help with the mixing.. After countless hours and hours of mixes, takes and more takes, and convincing the band to come to Bahrain to rerecord the work - there was an even more polished sound.. this was definitely something to shop around.. I remember Hassan dragging me into the studio, and playing what they’ve been working on, and me thinking this is fucking amazing. I was actually listening to the birth of this music, I was around when he was scribbling some words together and now those words and music are blasting through the speakers and sounding epic.

I don’t know if you can actually imagine what kind of effort is required to cut an album, and what it takes to do it from the Middle East. Allow me to sum it up for you: it’s damn near impossible – forget about the relationships you are forced to sever, the friendships that can’t stand the stress, business and the opinions you need to shelve, the continual feeling that it’s just you facing this monumental task of realizing this dream.. Cutting an album, having it produced, and then pushing out to a market that has never really heard an Arab fronting a rock n roll band? That is some serious weight to deal with, but my friend soldiered on..

It was the music, 80s Ian and Hassan that convinced Simon Napier-Bell out of semi-retirement and to take on this project.. Through Simon’s guidance the band was properly put together, pushed into a studio and the music was reworked.. this time the music sounded different, this time, the people producing the music were the same people that have produced a lot of the records that we all have in our cd libraries. This time, the buzz was getting bigger.. This time Hassan was moved to London, where the band continued their music, where they performed at clubs, and where the record labels took serious notice..

And what now? I am so proud to actually let you know that brothermandude’s first music video is available for your viewing pleasure on youtube. Directed by Kevin Godley (from Godley and Crème fame) who’s directed a whole plethora of U2 and Sting videos. He’s most recently directed what WAS my favorite new video “is it any wonder” by keane – (the one with the camera on a minirollercoaster track – very cool indeed).. watch it..

Watching the video last night on youtube solidified a lot of things for me: that feeling I got when I sat in the studio with Hassan while he played back his music, the days when your friend would turn to you for your opinion no matter how honest you were, the pride and “hell yeahs” screamed into the phone when he’d call us to share good news from London.. this was all coming together.. all of it.. and we’re all here pumping our fists in the air cheering on our friend and his dream, to make some fucking amazing music…

brothermandude, check it out.. watch the music video, preorder the cd…

terima kasih

2006-09-06T22:48:00.000+03:00

After an extensive and lonely sojourn from you, I’ve come back from my vacation reinvigorated and ready to write again.. On my travels with a tulip, we encountered many new faces, familiar faces and each other’s faces. The stories, events, meals, conversations, and experiences were fantastic. We got to see so much, do so much, and still find time to party the right parties.. Just some thoughts scribbled down..

“Malaria’s not so bad” he tells me, in a “tumbler with some ice cubes, soda and a squeeze of lime.” I hesitantly laugh while my fingers continue to scratch away at the welts pussing mosquito puss from my skin. I have been in Bali for three days and have already invited the burgeoning insect populace to feast on my blood, skin, scent, whatever it is those bastards find so appealing in me.. The tulip accompanying me swears in her sweet sounding language, cursing their antennas, legs, pincers and whatever makes them, them.. Rubbing me down in Citronella she consoles me to brave the tropical air and enjoy my time.. I reign in my anxiety, polish off the glass of ethyl and ice, bid our conversation goodbye and thank modern medicine for the soothing effects of anti-anxiety medication.

Although pleased with our neighborhood eateries and nightlife, we take a shabby recommendation from a shabby cab driver, and saunter over to inspect the harassing vendors, taxi drivers, questionable warungs, pushers and pimps by Kuta beach.. The economy is recovering from the recent tragic events but the numbers are still hurting – a fact evident in the aggressiveness of the vendors we stroll by.. “psst hey, somesit?” we continue to walk, a little shocked at how beautiful parts of this island are and how crowded and toursitically depressing this bit is.. You do what you have to do, and if it’s roping in the dumb tourists and making 5 times profit on a sale, then so be it. “Yes?? Transport? Taxi? Somesit?” what the hell is he saying? Ibu heads into stores and by touch distinguishes the cotton sarongs from the blends, but our bargaining skills have not yet developed. “Hello you buy? Sarong? T-shirt? Dvd? You come you look you buy, I give very special price, you come, you handsome, you come and look, you buy pretty girl pretty sarong, only 250 thousand rupiah”. Getting frustrated by the congested streets we soldier on looking for something to attract our eyes.. “heycoolguy, somesit?” I stop and turn, what the hell is he saying? Finally it dawns upon me, this shady looking fellow is trying to see if I’d like to procure some (“some shit”) in this dark and dodgy alley he’s directing me to.. Politely turning down his offer i march on. We were not happy being lumped in with the same category of tourists snapping their photos standing on streets and getting eyed by the local sellers – however, we never once felt our safety being compromised in any way or form.. Thankfully, finding a recognizable internationally branded star bucks did make the trip worthwhile; Gulping our afternoon pickmeups in our cab ride back, we were very pleased with our quaint and hip Seminyak.

After our flirtations with a Batik factory, stalls of “justloooking,” shot in the dark lunches, and feastings on the strangest of nuts - crackers – seeds – legumes - drupes and capsules, we make our way to the mountain village of Sidemen. The drive moved us away from the more developed towns through little townships and then farm country. Through the windiest of roads, stomach curling ups and downs and narrow paths Mr. Putu gets us to our little hotel, a charming little project blessed with breathtaking views of the valley, rice paddies, the mountains and the sea on a clear day. I lament the lack of air conditioning or fan in our room, worry continuously over the abundance of insects in here and yet still enjoy the view, the fresh air and where I am. Our traveling companions (2 New Yorkers harboring the same apprehensions about insect bites as me), ibu and myself embark on a trek with a guide through the rice paddies in which I get my entire foot stuck in a muddy paddy. Trying not to think on what I just stepped in, the guide led me down to the river where I washed my foot… Coming from an arid climate, it felt good standing on some rocks, submerging my foot in the rushing waters of the Unda river. The whole experience just reminded me of a lot of different scenarios of washing by the river, mainly a story my dad used to tell us when we were kids. Waking up the morning after a couple of bintangs, a vegetarian dinner and a whole lot of mosquito coil smoke filling the room felt even groggier than your traditional hangover – mosquito coil smoke is tough on the noggin.

Traveling with a photographer was an experience and a lesson.. Ibu whipped out her 8 mega-pixel monster and shoved it in the faces of the locals happily snapping away. In an attempt to ease my fears, she would contest “They are extremely camera friendly, don’t worry” to which my reply would be molded around a possible scenario of some very agrarian locals living in the most basic of huts on a rice paddy wielding their machetes because some foreigner got in their faces.. Breaking away from our hike I would have to trek back and onto someone’s farm while she stood their taking national geographic photos of farmers going about their day.. or when I’d have to give the school teacher an apologetic nod because ibu was being mobbed by all these school kids who wanted their photo taken “HELLO!!PHOTO!!” Although I did share some of the photo taking duties, I was constantly reprimanded for my misuse of light.. All that aside, without her incessant searching for the perfect picture or possible future project, I don’t think I would’ve come home with so many great shots, and for the record, I did take some nice pictures – especially the ruins at the Ujung palace – I manipulated the light and bitch slapped it into the perfect shot...

I became the proud father of two frogs that lived in our outdoor bathroom.. I even named them, Hamzah and Mamdooh.. We had such a great time together, greeting me every time I went to take a leak or shower, those two swimming around, croaking about – I even sang to them while I took a shower and for the most part they liked my voice. Then when the weekend came around I cut them some slack and extended their curfew, but Hamza never came home, I started getting really worried by Saturday evening.. Then come Sunday morning and Mamdooh was nowhere to be seen either, his favorite spot was bare.. Let me tell you, trying to raise two frogs right is a full time job.. you do your best, then one day you wake up and find out that they never came home from the night before probably out drinking with the frogs from the cale villa, I never liked that bunch to begin with. I knew they would eventually outgrow the peeing on the lillypads and tadpole insecurities, but it was just so sudden, just so sudden,,, sigh..

snippets: Learning the requisite lingo before you go really helps with the locals, don’t worry if you don’t remember much, end of the day, we all speak the same language: futbol. The best way to eat strange fruit is to have a local show you how to cut it up and what to eat and what not to eat. The best way to overcome the shyness of traveling with someone you’re intimately involved with but haven’t really crossed that line, you both need to experience a little Bali Belly together. You should never feel too bad about wanting something familiar while you’re on holiday, especially if it’s from an overpriced global coffee chain. When you learn how to say I don’t want chili in my food in the local language, they actually listen (“Saya Tidak Mau Cabe”), most of the time.

all in all, a wonderful time

Top Games of our lives

2006-08-01T09:21:00.000+03:00

Super Mario Series (everything) – California Games – Ninja Gaiden – Liesure Suit Larry – Summer Games– Space Quest – Flashback: the Quest for Identity – Strip Poker (Samantha Fox) – Altered Beast – Double Dragon series – Contra – Punch Out – Warcraft – Ridge Racer – Tekken – Castlevania – Daytona – Golden Tee – Zelda Series (everything) – Party Games – NBA Jam – Silent Scope (Arcade) – Tetris – Goldeneye – Gran Tourismo (series) – Doom – Wolfenstein – Age of Empires – Sonic the Hedgehog – Counterstrike – Rambo (MSX) – Test Drive – Tenchu Stealth Assassin – Shinobi – Sega Rally – Nemesis – 1942 – Mariokart – Maze of Gallious (Knightmare II on the MSX) – Alex Kidd Series (Master system) – Afterburner - Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (arcade) – Soul Blade / Caliber – Grand Theft Auto (series) – Fifa (series) – NFL Blitz – GI Joe – Pacman – Techmo bowl – RBI Baseball – Street Fighter II – Winning 11 – Megaman – Worms – Kings Quest – Super Smash Brothers – Perfect Dark – Star Fox – Final Fantasy – Spy hunter - Final Fight – advance wars (gba) - Halo – Yie ar kung fu 2 (MSX) – Civilization – Manic Mansion – Monty on the run (C64) - Football Manager – Championship Manager - Rampage – Metal gear – Max Payne – Hogan’s Alley (NES) – Dig Dug – Sim City – Syphon filter – Rainbow 6 – half life 2 – Solitaire – Frogger – Prince of Persia (old & new) – Lode Runner – Lemmings – Kings Valley (MSX) – Time Crisis – God of War – Resident Evil – International Karate (C64) – Eternal Darkness – Space Invaders – MsPacman – Sky Odyssey – Metroid – Monkey Island series – Shadow of the beast – Wild Gunmen (NES) – Dope Wars – Pong – Superman (Atari) – Gauntlet – Vigilante (Amiga) – Tony hawk – mechawarrior – Donkey Kong (game & watch) – Driver – Wipeout – After burner – Full Throttle – Batman (Gameboy) – Winter Games – Police Quest – Paperboy – Fatal Fury – Excitebike – SSX – Blades of Steel – Splinter Cell – Diablo – Command & Conquer – Hook (NES) – Pilot wings – Tomb Raider – Crimson Skies - world cup (NES) – Fzero – tiny toons – Pitfall – Turok – Ghosts & Goblins – Tennis (gameboy) – super Tennis (dreamcast) – Snake – World of Warcraft – Wrestlemania (NES) – Double Dribble – Off Road – Colin McRae Rally – Duck Hunt – Dungeon Seige – Warlords 2 – Goonies (MSX) – Ico – King of the Monsters (neo geo) – Space harrier – Pole Position – Impossible Mission (C64) – Another World – the Oregon trail – Mortal Combat..

Want to add some more?

up up and away

2006-07-20T12:07:00.000+03:00

I watched the new superman movie,, it was cool,, but it brought about a lot of superhero movie talk.. I will say one thing about the movie though, DC did sort out the Kryptonite Condom debate..

The Superman debacle..
According to some, he is the most powerful superhero in the fictional realm of comic books.. he may have x-ray vision, super strength, the power of flight and all that good stuff; but I just don’t think Superman is the greatest superhero ever… my statement caused a little bit of ruckus.. my point being that Kryptonite is superman’s weakness, find enough of it and he’s a goner.. you build a cage out of kryptonite, terrorize some woman and hold her hostage, have her scream help, superman will fly in to save the day, pull the lever and drop the kryptonite cage, and superman’s yours.. the oldest trick in the book, and I’m positive he’ll fall for it.. cause he’s that much of a goody two shoes..

Would it kill Superman to use his powers for a little personal betterment.. if you had superman’s powers, how would you use them? Would you go out and risk your life day in day out to save those in need? Personally, the first person I would help is me.. here are just some of the things I would use my superpowers for, off the top of my head..

x-ray vision: a superpower with endless potential.. apart from the obvious of checking out what’s underneath that pretty dress - I would hit Vegas and gamble my heart’s content, using my powers at the blackjack and poker tables.. all in? you’re on bitch... Hit me, I said HIT ME DAMMIT!! I would also fuck around with all the hustlers on the streets of all major cities with the “follow the queen” card game, or the famous find the nut under the cup (or whatever that game’s called). Make some quick cash, and when they come to mug me and steal the money back, I’d beat them into next tuesday with my super strength. Ladies, the locker room will also be free territory, and you better believe that I will.. umm huhh.. Giving public speeches would never be easier, instead of just picturing everyone naked, you can actually see them naked.. I’d never pick the short straw.. life would be good..

super strength: apart from the obvious of twisting metal bars like balloon sculptures at birthday parties.. “here ya go kid, it’s a giraffe” CRUNCH!! “ohh hehehh excuse me, I forgot, your little 7 year old body can’t hold onto the weight.. what was I thinking.. heehehhee little fella musta broke a rib or something..” I would also forget about parallel parking, just pick up the car and safely place it in its parking spot.. compete in the world arm wrestling tournament and kick ass.. and I would bitch slap Hulk Hogan for the Ultimate Warrior.. I would definitely wrestle a rhino for my daily workout..

super speed: I’d compete in the Olympics as Bahrain’s only athlete, and win every single gold medal.. I’d then take all the gold medals, melt them into one huge medal and wear that around my neck, as a true Olympian..

flight: fly right up to a commercial airplane in mid flight and hang out on the wing waving at passengers.. I would fly into every single concert and major sporting event without paying for my tickets.. go on a tandem skydive and then freak the jumper attached to me, and not pull the cord.. Start up a pizza delivery service with pizzas flown directly from naples… I would fly up Everest, then take a leak off the top and take a picture of that.. I would definitely do you know what in mid air flight..

icy breath / heat vision: hey buddy, what the beer’s warm? No problem.. cue in icy breath.. here’s your ice cold beverage.. yeah what would you do without me.. you wanna see something cool? I can bbq those steaks with my heat vision.. cue in heat ray with accompanying heat ray sound.. how do you like yours done, medium rare? Sure baby.. and might I add, that’s some sexy underwear you have on..

What would you do with your superhuman powers, if you had them?

Another thought I had in regards to the whole superhero meditative sessions, is: what are the insurance premiums in these cities that house superheroes like? Will your car insurance have maniacal villain coverage? How about buildings? Who would insure and then who would reinsure? I’m interested to know someone’s theories on the structure of the insurance industry in these superhero cities…

It’s Thursday, give me a break..

go ask alice

2006-07-09T11:06:00.000+03:00

‘Twas late on a Thursday night, which in a technicality would’ve made it a Friday morning.. Well past the birthdays fêtes, bon voyages, and your run of the mill weekend of merriment - I end up at a friends place.. The dwellings of said friend is in a compound of houses designed long long ago in a time far far forgotten.. The house has a lot of character and has been the source of interesting conversations, sounds, stories, and theories: the wooden ceiling in one room is warped like waves, remnants of previous tenants such as Asian characters etched on the doors, weird noises of what we think is a mongoose living in the pitched roof, and stories that we ourselves have lived out between these walls.. like I says, the house has lots of interesting character(s)..

Well past the witching hour, inside in a muddled trip of the warped wavy ceiling and the English mustard colored walls, I listen to the Sherpa pluck his guitar. Throwing licks together, his music makes the room a lot weirder than it already is… I compose myself an excuse and decide that retiring for the evening (or morning) might not be a regretful decision.. wafting past the cigarette smoke, empty bottles, and waves of conversation, I make my way out of the room, to the door, but not before a trip to the washroom for a quick pre-drive slash..

Exiting the house, the darkness swallows my world. Only a white light from the house gates illuminates the walk to my transportation.. Embarking on my 36 step trek past the confines of the house, I come across the most peculiar of characters to encounter on a pre-sunrise homeward bound slog..

In complete late late night silence, frozen, I stand face to face with the definitive example of literary inspired hallucinations, a white rabbit… As the spirit of Lewis Carroll laughed over my head, I start to formulate scenarios: number 1: Stop drinking Absinthe, even if it’s not the really real shit. Did someone poison one of my many tumblers? What sort of hallucination is this? Will the walrus make an appearance? Is this real? Someone put the kettle on? Will the rabbit lead me down a hole? A very happy un-birthday to you too edu. Will the red pill give me truth or should i take the blue one and remain ignorant. Is an attempt for contact with the rabbit in order? I need to investigate the verity of this image..

Just as I contemplated touching the white rabbit, the image of the killer beast from Monty Python and the Holy Grail populates my imagination.. As asinine as it sounds, the thought of a carnivorous white rabbit gnawing off my legs did put me off contact.. time ticking on by as it would for gunslingers at high noon, the notion of proof would be the ultimate savoir to my neuroticism..

Turning the flash on my camera-phone-life-dependent-apparatus, I adjust my stance to capture the rabbit.. in reply, he turns to face me and poses for the picture..

then, in an act that I deem out of character for a white rabbit (but not substantiated since I don’t know any white rabbits or their habits), he hops onto the path by my feet and gets even closer.. Is it trying to tell me something? should I follow him? Is this magic? Someone trapped in this body of a rabbit? Is this djin? He’s at the door to the house, should I let him in? Contemplating my queries, my head begins to ache, or that could have been the circumstances of my demeanor.. I decide to gather further evidence and take another picture..

The idea of ringing the doorbell was a plausible one; bring the guys outside and ask them if they see what I’m seeing.. Maybe I should let the rabbit into the house, cause the thought of it being the spirit of a previous tenant who died there was not too far out of my head..

and then in a moment of clarity, I looked at the time, assessed my state just before sunrise, reflected on my drive home, looked at the comrade in question, and decided that sleep sounds much better than running around the garden trying to follow a silly fucking rabbit...

Important music at one point in my life

2006-07-05T11:20:00.000+03:00

I was in Junior High… my brother had just come back to visit from college… a forgotten tape lay there in the car – it contained music that would forever change my life… The tape was labeled “Slutting” – that’s all, it had no pornographic or crass references – just slutting and a piece of artwork that reminded me of something by Frank Miller… The funny thing about the tape is that it only had music on one side... It was given to my brother by a high school friend of his –my first encounter with what today you’d call a hipster – I would label her my first alternative indie rock crush… The track list was typed up on an old school dot matrix printer and said “Ani DiFranco (Out of Range)”… Disclaimer: I did some research and found out that Ani DiFranco released Out of Range in 1994 – which couldn’t be true because I was in high school in 1994… I’ve verified the dates with my brother and he’s corroborated my time order… He did mention that the hipster friend was really into the underground indie scene in the early 90s, that she could have very well had a bootleg… I’m still searching for a garage band called “Red October Conspiracy a Go Go” – she was definitely a cool cat…

On drives to and from school we had our tapes: Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice In Chains, Faith no More, Soundgarden, (kids running around wearing Doc Martens and flannel shirts in the heat – it was grunge in the desert)… Ani Difranco had a different sound than I had ever heard, it wasn’t grunge, it wasn’t screaming through the speaker, it was a female’s vocals that sounded so warming and caring, but so hurt and misunderstood. I couldn’t tell what Ani was about, some of her songs were about love, but you weren’t sure whether she was singing to a man or a woman… She had moments of dancey indie rock and tunes of extreme heartache and pain. My little sister and I soon found ourselves constantly listening to the tape that would forever refine our taste in music… whether we were going to bounce around in the car to “Out of Range” or we were going to Cry about the fact that track three was about a sad stripper who was abused at a very young age; or how about how you are a china shop and I am a bull… we were listening to music that was much older than we could understand – but we loved it… Looking back, my kid sister may have been a little too young to listen to Ani, but she turned out much cooler than the rest of her siblings so I’m gonna let it slide..

You also have to remember, this was Bahrain pre 1994… There were 3 shops on the island that actually had CDs; cassettes were in abundance, but due to no copyright laws, they were all faked up copies… The music that made its way to Bahrain was also very popular – we were lucky that there was a decent rock following, so there was also acceptable rock music to get your hands on – but everything we had was still mainstream… I had to wait till I went away on my summer vacation to find out who Ani DiFranco was… walking into a tower records and asking the guy for an Ani Difranco cd… his blank “cannot compute” look at the little man (me) looking for bisexual indie college folk rock was soon replaced with him putting some cds in my hand.. It was there and then that I developed my crush for Ani DiFranco and her music…

Y’see, while my friends were just getting into girls, I was getting into Bisexual girls.. I know I know, perverted at such a young age, I agree, but at least I wasn’t drooling over the latest teeny bopper – I went for the artistic icon.. But it wasn’t just because she was a hottie that dug both men and women.. Ani refused to become a slave to the music industry… She pulled up her shirt and flashed Universal, Emi, Geffen and all those Big record labels that were milking it, her beautiful breasts and then pulled her shirt down and walked away.. She formed Righteous Babe Records, and did her music her way.. In an industry, where the big record labels easily dupe so many musicians to following trends, into signing off their lives, Ani stuck her ground, and that made me love her even more..

As the years piled on, my relationship with Ani blossomed and faltered – new genres of sounds were being incorporated in my library and I wanted to explore. In college I went to see her in concert – she sat there on stage looking into the crowd and poured her heart through the microphone.. She spoke back to us, teased us, laughed with and loved us.. Her sound brought back all those years of playing that tape over and over again.. all those junior high fantasies about a singer songwriter that touched me, in so many ways.. ehhehehh..

Many days have rolled on by since I listened to her music – I don’t know if I flooded my eardrums with so much of her sound that I wanted a change. Or maybe because I had to give up my life as a college student .. no matter what – I’ll always love you Ani.. always..

world cup 2006,,

2006-07-02T12:57:00.000+03:00

my thoughts so far...

Insta-pundits: I cannot stand how people who never watch football, come in during the world cup and voice their opinion on the beautiful game… I’ve been hearing so much flak about the Italian national team constantly diving and making a meal out of every foul.. Diving in Italy is snidely accepted in the Serie A, but lets face it, everyone does it these days, you can’t just say that the Italians are the worst divers. If a player thinks he can get away with it, then he will try. Plus you don’t know what’s going on with the team when they’re a man down and are trying to win the game, you’ll resort to anything, even playing the foul to your advantage. The Australia Italy game was fodder for the amateur spectators to come in with their once every 4 years analysis to talk their shit.. you don’t understand the game, or watch the game regularly enough to know what the hell is happening with the history, the grudges, the rule changes, the officiating.. but because you’ve been watching the world cup these past couple of weeks you’re instantly transformed into pundit?

Gloating: to all you fans that said brazil or argentina were gonna win the world cup : muahahahaaaa.. I told you all that a South American team will not win the world cup in 2006.. I showed you the trends of the world cup winners bouncing between Europe and south america, I explained the two anomalies that occurred for italy and brazil winning it twice in a row.. but none of you listened.. I explained it all to you, but no one listened.. you were all wowed by the starting lineups, throwing names of champions.. It’s an all European semifinal fiasco and that can only mean one thing…

too bad for the English yesterday… I was cheering them on, & honestly believed they had a fantastic chance to win the world cup. They scraped through every single game, and when they needed to explode and step into proper form to lead them to the finals, they couldn’t do it. There are a couple of things that I would like to point out.. One of the senior players should’ve spoken to wayne rooney before the match and warned him of retaliating against carvalho. His reputation precedes him, you can’t pull that kind of shit in the world cup quarterfinals (three feet from the ref nonetheless) – everyone needed to keep their cool & the ref was looking for something. Owen Hargreaves’ performance should cement his position as the holding midfielder for England. Frank Lampard, a midfielder, can lead the scoring charts all year long for Chelsea, the team that pays him a seriously ridiculous amount of money per week - but he can’t do it for his own country? Steven Gerrard, who countless times has stepped up for big games and come out a champion, fizzles when they need him the most? Peter Crouch, for all his lanky x-factor sucked in front of the goal.. Sven, why did you bring Walcott to Germany if you had no intention of playing him? Why not take Defoe? I wouldn’t have taken Crouch in the first place… Substituting Aaron Lennon?? Subbing the substitute for penalties? Did you even make them practice penalties? I just think Sven tactically crumbled yesterday, and I personally don’t think Steve McLaren is the man for the job (although he is a good coach) – Right now, the English need Gus Hiddink.. too bad for the fans, the atmosphere they created during the game was incredible.. you can’t beat the English fans at spirit..

Politics of another country: During the Ghana game against the Czech Republic, John Pantsil, a Ghanian Player pulled out the Israeli Flag hidden in his sock and and waved it around when both goals were scored. The Ghanaian Football Association, apologized stating that they have nothing to do with politics they’re just here to play football and that the player was just naive. He was claiming that since he plays in the Israeli league he was supporting the fans that traveled from Israel to support him. Revealing a message under your jersey when you score has been banned and can be considered inciting the crowd.. so how come pulling out a flag and waving it above your head not be seen as inciting the crowds? Are you here to play football or make a statement?? And During the middle of the game?? He didn’t even score the goals.. look, if he wanted to show support to the fans that traveled to see him after the final whistle was blown, pull out the flag and wave it all around, that’s fine.. but during the middle of the game? Again, this isn’t a political comment I’m making.. I’m just saying, I don’t think that celebrating your country’s goals during the world cup is the more appropriate time to wave the flag of another country, because you’re showing support to your fans..

Conspiracies Galore: After the scandal that’s being unearthed in Italy right now, it’s difficult to watch the world cup and feel nothing’s been staged.. Moggi and Co. controlled the outcomes of a lot of games for so many years – everyone talked about something fishy going on, but for it to go on for that many years? they cheated, who’s to say that when you see something during the world cup right now, it’s not already been decided..

So now you’ve lost Brazil and I’ve lost England.. You’ve still got Germany and I’ve still got Italy..

FORZA AZZURRI

Streaming Consciousness

2006-06-14T17:47:00.000+03:00

No stimulants, no chemicals, no spirits, no elixirs, just my imagination and some thoughts that’ve bounced around today..

Sex with a puffin was interesting until she asked if she could read me some Attar, he’s cool I suppose, but I then decided she was getting a little too spiritual for spirit’s sake. The only place I wanna conference birds is between the sheets. I asked her if she had anything to eat, she complained about not having any time to hit the super, so I ended up snacking on some seeds. She wanted a "sit down" regarding our commitment, I told her that I ain’t no goose. She cried and I left.. probably for the best, my breath always smelt of herring and she always beat me at Mancala. I hate losing at Mancala.

And then there were three: the coat check girl of a gentlemen’s club, a carnival ride operator, and a librarian’s assistant.. it was a task and a half trying to negotiate their way out of the giant mosquito’s nest – but the promise of thirteen pints of blood from a satanic virgin goat in heat was too good to pass up, the Giant Mosquito thought. they had 23 hours and 42 minutes to come good with the plasma or else it was their haemoglobin what was to be gobbled. The brutal death of the magician’s assistant was fresh in the back of their minds, their outcome in case of failure,, poor bunny, poor little bunny… looking on the bright side of things, this was their opportunity to break free from their sidekick labels and actually have their own adventure - even if it did come at the price of a spin-off with a group of number twos taking the lead..

Crossing the street to an internet café, I get hit by a thunderbolt in the form of a fox in pinks kicks navigating a Vespa.. she smiles my way and offers me a peek into my future.. I see room and push myself on. Inviting her for a cappuccino, she takes half the foam with a spoon and folds the rest in, I grind the beans with my molars and suck on the coffee mulch – caffeinated love perks us both up. “I wish you were here” she pauses as the phone crackles - I am enthralled by her pauses, not so much the crackles. I unwrap her like the cds I covet so dearly, eagerly hoping for electric ladyland and getting it. weird and charming she calls me, the perfect foil to her elegance and wit. In competition for coordination, I run through the fields collecting thoughts in a glass jar to light our way home..

I’m led to the dentist chair and told he’ll be a minute or two.. looking around I see the instruments of terror to be inflicted on my chompers.. to calm my nerves I get up and take a swig or 20 of the nitrous oxide in the corner.. hhhrrrmmm.. life is good.. a marsupial hops into the room and tells me that life as a marsupial all depends on if I view myself inside the pouch or outside the pouch.. just then a zebra appears out of thing air, grows fangs and dives straight for the marsupial’s neck. The blood gushes everywhere and starts to freak me out a little.. another 20 swigs, aaahhh much better…

So what is ballsy art? Handing me a cup with some nudey magazines she points to the bathroom and tells me to do my business.. she pulled the blinds and turned on the black lights, revealing her work in progress on the sheet up against the wall.. trying to walk me through her masterpiece, she points out the brush strokes and wants me to see the waterfall.. amazed, shocked, and slightly grossed out, I sat around trying to grasp her madness in an aesthetic light.. spart she calls it.. that’s the last time I spend the night at her place..

A café coretto a la grappa sets me straight.. 28 hours travelling, no sleep and Rem Koolhaas is pouring more grappa in my coffee.. the funny thing about architecture he says while we sip our spiked morning,, is that it’s not funny at all. I couldn’t agree more.. shaking the fatigue out of me, William Gibson shows up and invites himself to my scrambled egg whites.. after breakfast, lets go hit on some cyber samurai dressed high school girls in Harajuku he says.. cyberpunk or cyberperv I still haven’t figured him out.. Rem laughs, and Gibson looks at me weird like he’s hoping to insert wires into my head.. I need another coretto..

Oh beautiful game I love thee..

2006-06-08T12:33:00.000+03:00

It’s been a long wait.. I’m not going to come out and say it was easy ‘cause throughout the past 4 years, a lot has happened.. Bahrain for the first time in its history flirted with making it to the big show, late nights of qualifiers, screaming at the television, even got my mother onboard for the qualifying campaign.. I’d also be a liar if I said that the last world cup was a lot of fun.. there were some great games, yes, but there were too many issues embedded in having the world cup in Asia that just rubbed me the wrong way. I’m sure Fifa will be more prepared the next time they decide to have the world cup in Asia..

Remember the 2002 world cup? The fact that the actual timing of the world cup was brought forward to avoid the monsoon season in Japan or Korea, probably not giving the players enough time to rest. The English and Spanish leagues did not finish in time as everyone else and it was obvious that the players in those two leagues were not fully rested (Fifa this year put in a new rule that all leagues needed to end on some specific day in May – the 19th if my memory serves me right, but it has been known to evade me). Holland didn’t make it to the world cup.. the teams that we all expected to progress were all knocked out – Everyone predicted Argentina France for the final, and they both went home after the group stages.. The timing of the games were totally fucked (I was in Boston at the time, the latest game started at 10 AM) do you know what it’s like to watch the world cup final before you normally fix yourself a cup of coffee in the morning?? Having a pint and watching the game that early in the morning really did make you wonder about your personal struggle with alcoholism. The horrible refereeing – Byron Moreno: I still hate you.. No disrespect to the South Korean football team (cause they played some great football, and look even deadlier this tournament) but a lot of calls went their way, making you feel like since this was the first time Asia was hosting the World Cup, Fifa wanted to give an unnecessary nudge to one of the teams there (ie: the hosts).. the horrible sportsmanship, Rivaldo getting the ball in the knee and then him dropping to the floor clutching his face against Turkey,, What was that all about? Ronaldo with that stupid half moon haircut – a horrible attempt at something anime.. I was just left a little deflated… I waited 4 years for the 2002 world cup, only to be disappointed.. so for all intensive purposes I’ve been waiting since France 98 for a good world cup..

It’s taken me 8 years, and now I’m only 1 day away.. I’m 24 hours away from cheering and jeering.. giving up my life for one full month to focus on football. I’m no silly purist that supports one team and only one team.. My support this world cup goes as follows: Italy, Holland, Ivory Coast, & England… Although I will be paying attention to all the teams (Spain, France, Japan, Brazil [how can you not?], etc.. ) I am going to stick to my four.. why? Well there are 32 teams, why focus on one, four is a better number.. pick 4 teams and improve the odds of one of your teams making it to the final.. I’m going to side with history and statistics that a South American team has never won a world cup in Europe, hence three of my times being European. I’m also going with the fact that the world has continually bounced between a European and South American team (except for two instances where italy won it twice in ’34 and ’38, and Brazil did in ’58 and ’62), since Brazil won it last, I’ve got some coin on a European team doing it. Plus if anyone has a psychological advantage at winning the world cup in Germany, it’s the English – and to bring it all round, I am my father’s son and the ol’man does have a soft spot for England. Italy, well cause since the world cup in 1990, I’ve been a die hard fan, disappointment at the world cup 94, euro 2000 final, this is Totti’s last chance to shine, and shine he will.. luca toni’s the dark goal scoring horse, and I have a feeling Daniel Bonera will stamp his foot on the international scene as the next pillar in the Italian back line.. Holland, well come on, I’ve always loved the Dutch – Bergkamp is a personal hero, I attribute him as one of the main catalysts to the popularity of English football right now.. Bergie’s goal in 98 against Argentina brought me and the rest of the world to our knees. watch van persie : BRILLIANT ORANJE!! Ivory Coast because you need to have an African team to support, and they look so good this year: Aruna Dindane, Kolo and Yaya Toure, Drog’s yer uncle, Eboue, etc,, yeah baby.. allez les Elephants!!

So here’s to: getting together with friends, getting re-addicted to sunflower seeds, eating bbqed food, being boisterous, enjoying a freshly tapped keg, saying insulting things to the opposing team fans (yeah you heard me TRINIDAD & TOBAGO.. ok sorry, you did win it fair and square.. but then again shut the hell up, you’re at the world cup with that silly twat Dwight Yorke, I should be allowed to harbour a little animosity), raising your hands and going apeshit, discussing tactics, drinking, conspiracy theories, snack runs, promising talent, sublime passing and beautiful goals..

Have a great world cup people, and may your bet carry you through, unless you’re the Chef, who’s actually plonking down cash on Brazil Poland for the final… tisk tisk tisk

FORZA AZZURRI!!

Uploading Downloads

2006-05-25T11:25:00.000+03:00

Remember when downloading used to be fun and free? Everyone had napster, the original napster.. people were downloading tunes, and we all felt we were a apart of an MP3 community, sticking it to the record industry - revolucionarios! I used spend hours in front of the computer at my place, with whomever just trying to remember music and downloading it.. it was from these insane screen sessions that we remembered too shy by kajagoogoo, midlife crisis by faith no more, absolutely kelly street by frente, all sorts of great random tunes. We found secret ultrahush white labels, we found dubbed up dubs of rubadubdub, we found fun for our eardrums. La musica was, fresh and happy, but like guns n roses play it “nothing lasts forever” - Those damn bastards from Metallica decided that they wanted to make money off their music that was being transferred, and decided to take whomever they could to court. In the midst of this whole hell-storm of litigation, napster started getting trickier, people were misspelling the information on the tracks you could download to avoid getting caught.. stuff was becoming harder to find, life became crappy…

And then something brilliant happened.. someone invented another peer to peer file sharing software that found a loophole in the legality of it all: being registered outside the US and sometimes giving you popups and stuff like that.. Soon everyone had migrated from Napster to morpheus until that got old, then they switched to Aries until that got old, and then edonkey and then kazaa then kazaa lite then limewire, and so on and so forth.. people’s conversations at the time sounded a little something like this, “hey so what do you use to download?” “oh I use bumfloss beta 2.0” “is that any good?” “aww hell yeah dude, it’s amazing, you get music, videos, games, pictures, you can download anything even viruses..” It was also during this time that people stopped just downloading music, and got involved in downloading videos.. At the time, downloading videos had one clearly defined purpose: pornography, nothing else.. The internet video porn traffic boomed, if you could’ve traded that index, think of the returns.. Milfhunter and the bangbus crew became world famous, overnight. Now you could finally complete your rocco siffredi collection with Rocco Mauls Mozambique. Gigabytes and gigabytes of videos were bouncing around peoples bandwidth ranging from sexy shit, to sick shit, to weird shit, to funny shit, to classic shit, and illegal in some states shit… life was good for all men and some women, but mainly men…

It didn’t take long for Steve “I gotta get me some of dat” Jobs to announce his solution to illegal downloading: Itunes hits computers globally, his ipods take over peoples ears, and all of a sudden the industry is making money off downloaded music. Obscure musicians even turn to leaking their music on the internet in the hope of becoming famous, and many have.. a dollar a tune was worth it for many and it was legal.. I don’t really know how many songs have been downloaded over itunes, I remember reading some large number but really couldn’t care less – some impressively huge number though.. But you have to give Jobs credit.. he made money off making music downloads legal and he made you buy his device to listen to your newly purchased music, now that’s pure “giving them what they didn’t know they wanted but desperately needed” genius...

So what’s next? Lets get on the whole video downloading bandwagon!! and that’s just what the world did.. Supercool large file sharing applications like BitTorrent were born and now you could actually download full length movies or episodes of your favorite TV show.. the newest episode of Lost airs tonight, tomorrow morning people are downloading it and then uploading it into their personal video players to watch on the train ride to work, during their lunch break, taking it over on their hard disks to watch it with friends, making copies for people, burning it on a dvd to watch it on their tv.. Technically I’m sure this is illegal, but this new type of heavy peer to peer fiending is taking over the internet and you have to acknowledge their growing numbers.. People are up to date on what’s happening in the Sopranos, Lost, 24, the Unit, the Shield, Home Garden Tv, etc.. Itunes realized that they can make money off this too and have now allowed people to legally purchase episodes, touché stevie, touché..

I know a couple of these bandwidth bandits, I was hanging out with one of them last night, and his addiction to downloading these tv shows was somewhat frightening.. he couldn’t wait to rewatch the episode of this show because the new one was coming out on this day and then he has this download and the season finale of that and then there’s the other new show that he’s heard so much about.. I’ve seen a lot of addictions in my relatively short life, but this one, was pretty scary..

Another internet impresario worthy of mention is the high priest of the temple.. a couple of months ago this guy had 2 terabytes of personal storage space (that’s over 2 thousand gigabytes – roughly 33 and a third 60 gigabyte ipods) filled with everything and anything your little mind desires: documentaries, tv shows, serial dramas, animes, movies, videogames, pictures, files, stories, you name it, really, just name it. His storage space has probably now doubled in size, (cue in celestial gregorian chanting)..

So where does this leave me? behind in everything.. I’ll still be reminiscing about dancing around to “Too.. shy shy, hush hush, eye to eye” while people are downloading virtual girlfriends… the internet is taking so many twists and turns and if you just pause to see how far we’ve come in the last 2,5,10 years years, you’d be flabbergasted (I like the sound of that fla-bber-gas-ted..)

of the Week

2006-05-18T12:02:00.000+03:00

Outcome of the Week
The Arsenal lost the champions league final.. in a bout of bad refereeing the gunners managed to hold onto their lead for the first 75 minutes; but being a man down and playing against Barcelona in such a high intensity game, we could not hold that crazy Swede Henrik Larsson.. The lads played their hearts out and my phone never stopped ringing last night with acknowledgements of awe about our spirit.. I am slightly bitter, but this will pass (would’ve liked to come to the office with a reason for bags under my eyes). Some people might rejoice in the fact that my team lost, to you people: up yours (you know who you are), actually I’m pretty fine, if my favorite team wasn’t going to win the Champions League final, my second favorite team winning it is the next best thing. For all you distraught Arsenal fans: our squad was primarily made up of under 25 year olds and we went to the final, we played our hearts out and we’ve made a boatload of money. They called this our transition year, our youngsters took us to the final and we’re gonna play in the tournament next year again, I’ll accept that. Barsa: Although I’m still not convinced of Frank as a coach, it’s about time this team stood up and accepted the title of the best in Europe. (Deco’s a champion, everywhere he goes, he wins it all & kudos to Ludovic Guily: he deserved that medal more than anyone else – just cause he never had his chance against porto two years ago). I upheld my end of the celebrations and lamentations: Breakfast has been served, everyone ate, I am the benevolent football fanatic.

Official announcement of the Week
This morning was the official start of summer for me.. I could feel it coming: the heat, the shorts, the humidity.. but today was the official mark of the season in my book because I loaded the car with some classic summer tunes.. listening to 10cc, Wham, Miami Sound Machine, B-52s, some classic Santana, and so much more (I know, incredibly cheesy, but the thing is you cannot beat rhythm is gonna get you…) I don't understand it, but i associate summer music with Miami in the 1980s a la anthony montana. The short sleeve summer shirts are coming out, the slippers and flip flops are out, the swimming trunks, towel, t-shirt and goggles are in the car.. anyone up for the beach on Saturday? I don’t like Cricket!!! Ohno.. I LOVE IT!!

Musical discovery of the Week
I discovered something new the other day and am interested to find out more.. I heard about Juma Sultan, a famous jazz Percussionist who’s played with the greatest of the greatest. He was also a member of the short lived, Gypsy Suns and Rainbows, Jimi Hendrix’s band.. Their biggest concert was at Woodstock in 1969 (yes, the Woodstock). The only reason I’m so surprised and interested, is that Juma, is such a Khaleeji (Arabian Gulf) mainly Bahraini or Kuwaiti name.. Juma moved to the states in 1965 (doesn’t say from where), and he played the congas, bongos, piano, saxophone, baritone saxaphone, and a few others.. That is just so unbelievably awesome.. Jimi Hendrix, the greatest of all time, had a guy named Juma banging on some bongos for him.. I don’t know but this guy sounds like he could’ve been from this part of the world. I’ve already met Mirza Al Sharif (famous Bahraini Percussionist who played with Santana), now I’m curious to find out about Juma.. if you’ve got info, pass it on.. Apparently Juma was the guy that introduced Jimi to Buddy Miles and Miles Davis.. now that’s pretty cool.. “milo, meet jimi, jimi milo. solid.“

Random discovery of the Week
I don’t like mushrooms on my cheeseburgers.. I like mushrooms on my pizza, in my pasta, in my dishes, even raw in my salad.. but mushrooms on my burger never work out right for me.. I can do mushrooms in my steak and cheese, but not in my burger.. I think the problem is that when they pile on the sautéed mushrooms, they never properly get dispersed on your burger, leaving you with mushroom bulges under the bun (that just sounded funny rereading it).. Grilled onions on my burger, now that’s a completely different story.. Completely different story..

Khhotness of the Week
Chai Karak drinkin’, vice pink dress wearin’, multi-national cell phone luggin’, no chicken eatin’ babes.. yeah…

Paris: a city, a babe, a dead trojan, & champions league glory

2006-05-15T09:01:00.000+03:00

Sometime in the fall of 2004 I asked myself a question.. What if Arsenal (favorite team in the whole wide world) played Barcelona (2nd favorite team in the whole wide world). Who would I cheer for? Would I be sad? How would I deal with the victory? It’s not a decision most people really think about in the course of their life.. I mean they are two footballing juggernauts in their own respective countries, what were the chances of them meeting up in a European Cup Final (not impossible, but I hadn’t experienced it in my lifetime). On May 17th, 2006, in Paris, one night only, my two favorite football teams in the world will square away against each other in the most prestigious yearly football tournament on the planet.. I started to think long and hard about whom I’d support.

a little london team history
I started my love affair with arsenal at the youthful age of 7. It was Christmas time and we were at a family friend’s house for lunch, I pulled a cracker and won an Arsenal badge.. the cannon on the crest excited my fascination with all things army related.. Since it was Liverpool’s reign, I was naturally watching Ian Rush score his goals – so my Arsenal support was subdued for a couple of years. That was until the end of the football season 1989, this time 17 years ago (give or take a couple of weeks). English football was always recapped on Monday nights on Bahrain TV, and 1989 was the year the Arsenal beat Liverpool at Anfield by two extra goals (go on Alan Smith!!) on the last day of the season to win the league from right under Liverpool’s noses. It was from then on, that I became a Gunner. Watching a spectacular victory like that, the intensity of the game, the pure magic that poured into those 90 minutes, oh and a Christmas cracker with a badge and a cannon on it – how could I not be a fan.. I still have the badge.. After that, my fascination with football blossomed and took on different twists and turns. I tasted victory and I had my fair share of defeat. The Gunners were a medium sized London team with a lot of history, and I was a part of that history watching Ian Wright break the club’s goal scoring record, Thierry Henry then breaking Wrighty’s record, Limpar breaking off from the right with the ball, the Gamble on Overmars and the payback, the counter attacks, Paddy and Manu pulling the strings. Gilles Grimandi with a wild punch at Deigo Simeone. Pires winning me over with the equalizing goal against tottenham, and the equalizing away goal against Lazio. The Absolute Genius that is Dennis Nicolaas Bergkamp (the classiest of classy footballers). The famous back line, with Bouldie’s composed defending, Tony Adams leadership on the pitch, Lee Dixon for making the right back his postion.. David Platt, one of my favorite midfielders ever. When we stole Sol Campbell from Spurs for free. Secretly loving/hating Safe Hands Seaman. I can go on and on.. I’ve left things out I’m sure.. how about the ghosts of players that never had their chance: The alex mannigers, paolo vernazzas, nelson vivas, Christopher wrehs, remi gardes, graham barrets, and junichi inamotos.. you are not forgotten my friends.. (I came so close to buying a vernazza jersey once, just to cheer the lad on, they then sold him to Watford or something like that).. The real change in my love for Arsenal was when they purchased Bergkamp from Inter. Nothing sounded better to my ears that hearing the crowds chant “We’ve got Dennis Bergkamp, We’ve got Dennis Bergkamp!!” (I can still hear you singing, Andy).. This season’s performance in the league has been disappointing at times, but we did make it to the champions league next season, and we have made it to the Champions league Final this season.. We’re building a team for the future, and with most of our squad under 25, we are looking very good for the coming seasons.. very very good.

hope in Elefant Blau
Then there’s Barcelona, the Catalan team that stole my heart in the early 90s with Cruyff’s dream team.. My loving relationship with Barcelona didn’t just happen because of a Catalan variant of Dutch Total Football. The Catalan are a proud people, and I fell in love with that pride,, at times making me feel like it was my pride too. Maybe cause Catalunya carried Spain on its shoulders economically, maybe because of the fact that Franco loved Madrid and he often showed it by bending the rules in their favor, or how about the only place the Catalan could speak their language freely was in their stadium. How about the fact that FC Barcelona, in its 100 plus year history have never had a sponsor (something that will eventually change) on their Jersey.. why? Because the fans are not just fans, the Nou Camp is a symbol of the Catalunya and its people, you cannot tarnish the Azulgrana with a corporate sponsor.. That all aside, you cannot tell me you cannot fall in love with a team that has boasted players such as: Koeman, Guardiola, Laudrup, Stoichkov, Romario, Diego Armando Maradona, Ronaldo, Johan Cruyff, Lineker, Haji, Zubizaretta, Luis Enrique, Nadal, Sergi, Rivaldo, Cocu, and I’m not even getting into the current squad: RONNIE! I fell in love with their history, got angered at the treatment over the whole Alfredo Di Stefano Fiasco (yeah we know the truth Madrid). I watched them go from the great ol days of Nunez’s presidency to the what the hell is going on days of Gaspart and now the weary stability of Laporta. I felt the pain inside me grow as Barcelona were mismanaged, they were spending money buying players but just couldn’t do it.. They were caving into demands from players such as Patrick Kluivert, making him the highest paid player. Then came the shocking pain associated with watching them neglect Luis Figo and watching him go to Madrid.. all the power to Figo, I still love him, but the pain was a lot to bear.. or how about the incredible elation of watching Rivaldo with that scissor kick goal the last day of the season to squeeze Barsa past Valencia into the Champions league for the following season.. Barcelona quickly filled my heart with love.. Watching them win this season making it back to back championships brings tears to my eyes.. for my college years I had to endure my Madrid friends rubbing their victories in my face.. Watching Zidane score that amazing and I mean amazing goal for Real Madrid while Barsa just looked lost in la liga.. Barcelona is finally back to it’s winning days and I cannot be happier.

And now my predicament.. who to support? I know Arsenal are the underdogs, but a Champions league victory would be an incredible feat to celebrate.. Plus, memories of the 2000 UEFA cup final against Galatasaray have resurfaced and I am in pain.. A victory would quell these nightmares relived.. Barcelona have won their second league title in a row, this is evidence of their dominance of Spanish football right now.. However; there is that small part of me inside that wants to call them Madrillenos and laugh at their losses and boast Barsa’s victories.. it’s a tough decision… but I have decided to support the Arsenal on this one.. Arsenal are the underdogs, if anyone needs this championship it’s them.. I’d love to see Theirry lift the cup in Paris in front of his home crowd and stamp his brilliance on the European game.. That said, for 90 minutes I will support Arsenal, I will cheer them on, I will yell, shout, scream, laugh, maniacally wave my hands in the air, dance, and weep (hopefully not).. once the game is over, I only see it as a win win situation for me..

I don't even want to get into the hype cause i can write another three posts about that alone..

Oh and since it’s my two favorite teams,,, breakfast on Thursday May 18th is on me… you just need to show up to the 8th floor for some tasty tidbits. I know my coworkers are pleased about that.

I’ve now solved who I’m going to support, now I need to decide where I’m going to watch the game.. GOONMYSON!!

COME ON ARSENAL!!!!

the cameo of cameos

2006-05-10T16:37:00.000+03:00

free crack and everyone gets laid
I let spontaneity be my guide and that’s the reason for my demise. I am under house arrest (a better word than grounded). The case: feeding my need for speed. Tonight bahraini guy’s invitation to appear as his guest is the only way to nourish my madness.

10 pm. kissed my mother good night and locked myself in my room, immersed in ablution contemplating every scheme in the book to break out of the house. Took a good look down from the balcony, testing the fall, threw down my brother’s stupid cat to see how she lands. Boredom postponed, no broken bones. Fought the faithful donkey in a hurry and bid him farewell. Tied everything together into a rope, climbed the Azalea bush and jumped over the wall into a furry red cab with Harshit the driver.

Monstrous black line around my eye, question mark drawn on a course cloth. Like wind to my endless story, we head to Al Ain, club 44. Looking out to black dunes, flimsy girls picking dates of nakhl trees looking for a magic gang bang, cowboy ghosts rise from the grave to play, feet tied, chain in hands. Between them and oasis full of love.

Arrived at the door, the kandoora asked me for the code. Grasped my ankles to worship an ironic Japanese number seven. He let me in and complemented me on my lilac beret. Club 44 is a bizarre place. Rappers cum belly dancers cum locals cum model chicks cum drag queens and me. A melting pot melting together underground with Mike Jones on the mic. Walked back to a room called little Vegas to gamble for a new car. Like a winning dog with fantasy ambitions I sipped the venom of an origami viper. Played backgammon with the resident sheikh promising hope on the ticking quartz. Restless and peerless in my farewell posture I said amen to club 44.

Hopped into a limo only to find the prince of Borneo. Asked the driver to head to Umm al Quwain to a dirty club called XXX. Employed a play on words, sharp as a cutting tool. For a period of time talked like a flashing light with special delights that drove him wild. Was he a friend or foe. I’ll never know. Everyone bowed as we entered the club. Our table ready, Krystal on ice, that’s nice. Amplified night lamps, brilliantly colored. Fat girls on stage jiggled their body parts to Tchaikovsky’s ballet suite. The place was cramped with men in suits packing velvet revolvers endlessly vogue. Their instruments of communication.

Zero hour applauded the bell ringer. It was time to put on my archer attire with bows in my quiver. Unchained my excited animal, turbo in my engine, left the club. Ran into a blind mudslinger, in Braille he showed me a fast way home. With ping pong pulse I climbed the wall. Like a rodent on a Ferris wheel, my vision warped, I fell to the floor. Woke up majrooh in a marjooha, my fate I believe was a thief.
So, the moral of the story as once said by Timothy Leary is “turn on, tune in, dropout”.

And thanks to Bahraini for giving me the opportunity to have a little fun with myself and I on a Thursday night.

post worthy?

2006-05-09T20:53:00.000+03:00

Random thought of the day

What if two identical twins married two identical twins.. rod and tod married ally and sally.. and now both couples had children.. would the kids look exactly the same? I mean is that even a possibility? Would they be couswins? Has this ever happened? I'm sure it has.. Then what would happen with the parents, would the children be able to tell their parents apart? Would the parents be able to spot their own kids? Am I just aimlessly wondering about stupid things? Can someone answer my question?

A battle of epic proportions

While in the shower scrubbing myself up this past weekend, I noticed something in my peripheral vision, something big moving about on the shower curtain rail… I look up to catch sight of a medium sized, nay, it was a giant spider pausing to size me up.. After initially getting my spiderman dream out of the way (getting bit by the spider and getting superhuman powers), I decided it would be best to tackle this issue while there was no soap in my eyes.. once done with my shower, I stepped out to see where the vile beast was, only to find him guarding my exit, hanging around the door with his fangs ready for war.. There we were, me, naked dripping water on the tiles looking for my weapon of choice, and he suspended there waiting to pounce, preparing his venom for the skirmish. And then calling upon the spirit of my ancestors I prepared for battle, I reached for the box of tissue paper and dealt him the whack of all whacks.. Spider juice splattered the door as my enemy fell to the ground, his 8 outstretched legs now squished and his entrails breathing the open air.. in my naked victory, I saw it fitting to celebrate king kong style grunting and beating my chest as my opponent lay motionless on the cold tiles.. opening the door I continued my naked grunting parade into the bedroom to scare off any other giant monstrous creatures considering interrupting my shower.. and then I realized that I had gotten water everywhere and the balcony curtains were drawn..

In honor of all things facial

Laugh the headline off a bit.. All right, back to it – Apparently May is moustache month.. I'm thinking about shaving off the goatee and keeping a handlebar moustache.. or maybe a general lee, maybe a musketeer would be cool… although Saudi 80s businessman is a great look too.. hmm.. just do this, love thy stache.. treat it with care.. and if you haven't groomed it in a while, go and give it a new look.. I hear the musketeer is making a big comeback (I'm just trying to instigate)..

An announcement regarding Pearl Jam

I gave them a chance over and over again, I tried, but I'm gonna go out now and say this: Pearl Jam are overrated... Eddie Vedder, I liked you more when you drank and were a reckless misunderstood rambler. If you love Pearl Jam, let me say this: At one point in my life, I loved Pearl Jam too.. their first 2-3 albums were some of the best tunes that defined my growing up years. Nothing sounded better.. then album after album they started sucking, and when I mean sucking, their music quickly became some of the worst buys I ever made (and I've made some horrible music purchases over the years). I gave them every opportunity to win me over, I bought their cds, I listened to their new releases, but was just continually disappointed hoping for the next cd to be good. and then a couple of months ago, I read with great big hopeful eyes how Eddie Vedder came out to tell everyone the old Pearl Jam were back.. they were back to being angry and that the music on the new album was going to rock again.. and then do you know what happened? I bought the cd and realized that Eddie Vedder was a lying sack of shit. Their music hasn't changed at all, there was nothing radical about their sound.. it was like they were still regurgitating the same crap of the past couple of albums with a twinge of the old Pearl Jam.. you guys may be angry, but lay off the green tea, go hit that bottle of Jack Walker Black (when you know him as long as we have it's jack) and come up with something ballsy.. I will subject myself to another three listens to your cd, if you have not changed my mind then, I will never buy another Pearl Jam CD as long as I live (well unless it's really good and it's confirmed to be really good)..

The final update

Since moving to my new digs at work, my coffee machine was out of commission for the longest time. Last night I stopped off at the super and went on a cube provision restocking frenzy in which I procured some fingerlickin' lavazza for the machine. This morning I decided it was time to get ol'krups back on the wagon, and you know what? she's purring like a kitten. so yes i'm back on the perked up and slightly wired java-train. now all I need to do is learn how to make a good cappuccino –'cause there's nothing finer than fixing a woman a good cappuccino and watching her drink it..

reflections through reflecting mirrors

2006-04-27T11:45:00.000+03:00

As I sit with the laptop on top my lap... I'm listening to my new shipment of music.. I have to tell you I'm very pleased with the purchase.. yes it was drastic, some people might chalk it up to there being some void in my life that I need compensate for something.. to be completely honest, fuck it, whatever it is.. this music is going to help me flesh out the soundtrack to my life - I might as well live life with some pretty incredible theme music. Any budding Hollywood producers or Ad executives looking for the soundtrack for their next film or campaign, I’m pretty expensive, but so worth it. stuck on an old American Analog Set album from 5 years ago.. Electronically yet instrumentally breezy…

Feeling good about everything well not everything – working like a madman, flogging a keyboard for crimes in another life, that said, I’ve managed to find something really good. Deep inside the living tissue of my body, I found a little bit of goodness that I’ve managed to focus in on and magnify. This magnification has resulted in an encapsulation of overall coolness and levelled stability on the seesaw of life. I don’t know how to elaborate, but I will try: I shoved my hand inside my chest and extracted this tiny little ball of light, then I stretched and pulled at this goodness until it took the form of another human being - a better person to be, a better person to spend the rest of my days with.. This extraction had to come about in so many different ways and forms, experiences, mistakes, laughs, thoughts, feelings and experiments. Laid back, understanding and carrying an incredible amount of good energy, this other me is kickin’ ass..

I’ve had to teach and learn along this way, sometimes with people that didn’t deserve it, and sometimes with people that taught me all about the things that really mattered.. people were trampled, and people were inflated, all of us, but this is a fact of life – switching to wannabe yogi: you cannot recognize sweet if you have not tasted bitter.. I cannot avoid the truth of what has happened, there are times that I wished I reacted differently: good and bad, but I can say that it has been a journey worth living. That’s the thing about journeys, sometimes while you’re in the middle of it all you think it’s going too slow or that the predetermined chronological events you’ve hoped for are not falling into place. But then when you look back at it all, it just kinda all seems to fall into place, the delays, the pains, the quickness of it all just defines the journey, whether it be pure rock n roll straight from the source, or just some recycled pleasant sound that makes us all happy somewhere deep inside. I’m not going to come out and say that the other good new me has completely taken over, but lets just say we’re holding hands throughout it all, and for right now, that’s good enough for me. One of the two halves will eventually have to devour the other to become one (none of this merging, we’re going highlander style, devouring)..

I love you straight up and dirty..

raindrops on ivy and whiskers on tigers

2006-04-19T15:16:00.000+03:00

In order to exhume myself from this dreary state I've decided to write down and discuss the things that I really like.. stuff that makes me feel good, maybe it's stuff that makes you feel good too.. Borrowing from the sound of music, I guess these are my favorite things.. I can't believe I just made a sound of music reference, but the truth is, everyone's seen the sound of music, and as hard as you sit and try to suppress those memories, they still manage to surface... I'm not going to deny it, in fact if I could redo the sound of music for the 21st century, I would have the entire musical done in interpretive break dance.. The von trap family doing head spins in their good night song; Edelweiss redone with vocoders; solving a problem like Maria by doing the robot.. Off tangent again, back to the good of the good according to me.. things that settle really well in my belly..

That initial soft tapping of the crème brulee caramelized sugar crust - that feeling when your spoon spring's back in your hand from that initial touch. The anticipation of the crunchy sugar and the sweet soft dessert underneath, that careful tapping, making sure you don't make a fissure, the sound of the tap, the temptation to take your spoon and just break the crust and dig in. I love that feeling.. Learning to appreciate that feeling will make you feel happy and good..

It ain't easy being this fuqin' cheesy - the urge to bust out the umberto tozzi cd sometimes goes against everything inside you.. you refused this impulse before and you will refuse it again.. Sometimes, just sometimes, you need to pull out that cd and throw it on for a listen - why you might ask? 'cause dammit, there was a time when Anna Begins was the greatest song in your repertoire.. if you catch yourself singing along with the words, grasping the remote control like you're doing this live in front of 30,000 people, then so be it.. just make sure you've locked your doors and your windows are tinted..

Moonlight reflecting off the ocean - people will tell you a beautiful sunset or fantastic sunrise is the image to keep ingrained in your mind.. Ok I can't argue with that, but moonlight??? now that's the stuff people write songs about, know what I mean? On a clear night, in full view, with moon beams reflecting off the ocean - you can whisk yourself to anyplace you want to.. Romance, deserted island, pygmies, bonfires on the beach, hunted down by pygmies that are planning to throw you into a bonfire on the beach.. The possibilities of moonlight are endless..

Your life shrinking to a radius of 6 feet - we have so much to worry about in today's world: family, career, religious fundamentalism, forgetting to drop off the movie rentals, speeding tickets, global warming, increasing waists, nuclear proliferation, neo-right conservatism, what to have for dinner, receding hairlines, spam, rising costs, interest charges, PC compatible, copyright infringement, three points dropped, etcetera etcetera etcetera.. Putting yourself in a setting where the only thing you need to concern yourself with is in your immediate vicinity does make you forget about everything.. no worries no stress no nothing except that invisible radius.. I don't have to tell you that life becomes so sweet.. try it sometimes, it's a lot of fun..

Fresh fruit - Be seasonal about your fruit or don't, just enjoy every bit of it.. Mango skins being torn off the bone as you sink your teeth into the fleshy fruit and the juice streams down your forearms... Figs so ripe, tearing them open almost has a sexy adult connotation to them... Hacking away at a cold watermelon, slicing off a half moon, and letting the sweet juice quench a thirst you didn't even know you had.... The smell of oranges under my fingernails... I love fruit..

Calypso music and your feet in the sand - I am an islander, I appreciate laid back living and an easy take on life.. Calypso music just works for me in terms of reminding you that life at the beach is not only okay, it's incredible.. Take your shoes off, dig your feet into the sand and take it easy man.. Listening to calypso just sends you away to a special place where the drinks are always cold, the shirts are always airy, and the wind, well the wind feels brilliant between your toe hairs..

Beautiful light - afternoon light has a special place en mi corazon.. Lazing around as the light breaks through the curtains giving the room that perfect atmospheric setting.. mornings are too bright, evenings are too dark, but afternoons are just perfect. That period from about 4pm till sunset where the light can set the stage for anything: napping, conversing, walking, chilling, driving around, people watching, I'll let you decide what else you can do with afternoon light..

The sound of ocean waves dancing through your ears - Is it the hypnotic repetitive sounds of the waves rolling along the shore? I don't really know, nor do I really care. Falling asleep to the sound of the ocean is up there with eating icecream on a hot day, mimosas for breakfast, james taylor jam sessions, … the best place to nap is under a parasol on the beach – or – if you're close enough, then in your bedroom with the sounds of the ocean filtering through your balcony (hey everyone should have a balcony facing the beach)..

Pancakes for breakfast - the syrup, the melted butter, the fluffiness of it all, pancakes just remind me of a "don't have to do anything else after breakfast" breakfast.. And let me tell you, taking your time eating breakfast , leisurely reading the paper, and attempting the crossword is just the perfect way to your feel good morning.. if I could take an hour and a half for breakfast everyday, I would honestly be a happier person... scrambled eggs with ketchup are also a great way to start the day..

Receiving a 36 cd order in the mail - and that opening act of joy when you expose the insides of the box and feast your eyes on the properly stacked cds in front of you.. Along with t-shirts & sneakers, music is the best form of retail therapy for me... getting a new shipment of what's hot and experimental has me salivating at the prospect of unearthing the next big tune on my stereo.. I love it... sharing that music also feels equally good, very good.. Current addiction until the shipment arrives: Music Kills me, by Rinôçérôse - thank you very much..

Just wanted to point out different things I consider delightful.. I can see the beach theme recurs quite a bit, but like I said, I’m an islander, it’s what I know.. Scratch deeper and I’m almost positive there are more underlying universal themes there for you to explore..

Vocabulario 10

2006-02-21T15:29:00.000+03:00

Episode 10 of the weekend words suggested to you.. apply them into your talk, squeeze them in when possible – drop these words like they’re going out of style.. What’s cooler than calling someone atavistic? I don’t know..

This week’s words are..

Word #1 Copasetic
Word #2 Transmogrify
Word #3 Atavistic

On another note: Johnny Damon, Derek Jeter, Alex Rodriguez, Jason Giambi, Gary Sheffield, Hideki Matsui, Jorge Posada, Robinson Cano, Bernie Williams – that’s the lineup that I have to deal with – the only thing I can say is WTF??!!!?? Johnny Damon, I have forgiven you for jumping ship.. You’re a tired old man that wanted more money, the Sox weren’t going to give it to you, so you decided to pimp yourself out to the Yankees.. You’re 32, Coco Crisp is 6 years younger than you, and he wasn’t too far off your numbers last year – he’s entering his prime - I hope Epstein knows what he’s doing (I’m pretty sure he does).. I know I’m going to regret this, I know you’ll magically find some fountain of youth and I’ll lament why we didn’t just cave in and give you more money, such is life.. No one is bigger than the team.. You just really hurt me and the Red Sox Nation. I was devastated when they announced your departure, you so quickly shaved off the beard, cut your hair, and threw on that pinstripe suit... Yankees fans, congratulations on your victory.. I hope he turns out to be the Winston Bogarde of Baseball..

i should have never loaded espn.com today..

i speak bahraini very best

2006-02-19T11:29:00.000+03:00

Wherever you go, people change names of certain things to suit their culture or their influence or the time in particular ie: a dollar is called a buck because one dollar during the time of old frontier amounted to a buck hide, or something like that. Living in Bahrain, we’ve had our fair share of influences, 50 years ago if not longer, not many people spoke English, so imagine trying to sell an English product to a non-english speaker who’s never seen the product before in his life. You might tell us what you call it, but odds are, we’re going to give it our own name. We still call vacuum cleaners in Bahrain “Hoovers” because that was the first brand of vacuum cleaners sold here..

I’ve deviated.. On this wonderful island I call home, we’ve taken some English, some Indian, and some Persian words and we’ve tweaked them, or morphed them into our own little dialect.. This was all brought on when I was talking about kankarry being poured in the parking lot in our garage and my friend, (a Leb who’s lived most of his live in Bahrain) laughed at me and said we Bahrainis talk funny.. So I thought I’d list some of the words that come to me and explain them, so the next time you hear them you wont be lost and who knows, maybe you can use them in a conversation here and earn some street cred.. I know some of our neighbors and expatriates that live in or around Bahrain will get a kick out of this..

I’m spelling these out phonetically because I’m not even going to attempt to get them out right..

Bistoog – cookie.. Derived from the word biscuit, but modified for our local tongue.. Using this word can refer to any type of cookie, but it’s usually reserved for those delicious Danish Butter Cookies.. waitaminute, did I just say Danish? Boycott that..

Bi-Feater – plumber.. The trade of a pipe fitter. We don’t have the letter ‘p’ in our alphabet, so everything with ‘p’ naturally becomes a ‘b’.. kinda like “bebsi”..

Kan’karry – Concrete.. Don’t ask me how this got twisted, but it sounds cooler than concrete..

Smeet - Cement

Ambaloos – ambulance

Aranj joosh – orange juice

Draiwill – Driver

Ali Willem – Potato - back in the day, the most famous brand of potatoes on the island were imported through a Bahraini English joint venture called “Ali & William”. People here dropped the ampersand and stuck with calling potatoes Ali Willem. We’re not going to waste our breath pronouncing the “&” we’ve got better things to do..

Isbaitar – Hospital (it’s a muharraq thing)

Payk – a drink.. comes from the peg measure for dispensing alcohol, the peg measure must be of glass or brass that is well-tinned or silver-plated. Standard pegs are of 60 ml. (1 peg) and 30 ml. (1/2 peg).. as in “go fix yourself up a payk”

Shughgul Shaddan – Double Time – when they’d give the generators at the oil factory (BAPCO) a rest, the refinery still had to work but on manual labor, so the employees would have to work extra hard. It was called “Shutdown work”, but thanks to the bahranization of the word, it morphed to shaddan..

Ban’nid – close, turn off – I think this came from the word Banned

Balek – (also pronounced palek) plug, as in the little plug on a wire that’s connected to your tv or dvd player or microwave, you get what I mean.

‘Celater – Accelerator – put the pedal to the metal..

Belanty – Penalty.. I love this one, because it’s widely used in the arab world (well the Arabian peninsula world).. I love hearing this working in a bank “if you do not bay the fee now, then you will have a belanty on your account”

Ray’wis – reverse

Wan’ate – (also used in Kuwait) pickup truck.. cause the pickup trucks are usually 1.8 liter engines and because the 1.8 would be plastered on the back of the truck, people just referred to it as a wan’ate.

So that’s what I have, a bunch of words that sound funny when you read them but are a part of our everyday language here that we use without thinking twice about them… we are like this, only. If you know any more words, let us know. It’s like people in Rhode Island calling a water fountain a bubbler.. What’s up with that anyways?

Vocabulario Nueve

2006-02-15T12:14:00.000+03:00

I was away - but now I’m back.. We’ve resumed your semi regular Vocabulario, and this week’s words were inspired by some & insinuated by others. Here they are in no particular order except the one in which I typed them up in...

Word #1 Riveting
Word #2 Skulduggery
Word #3 Siphon

“I like riveting stories about corruption that reveal skullduggery and lots of money siphoned off to foreign accounts.”

Random thought of randomness: When I say concubine, I think of porcupines.. I know they rhyme a little, but it’s just this weird name association thing I do.. I would love to have a concubine or concubines for that matter.. if you’ve got quills, live in a tree trunk and want to love me, then drop me a line..

Wisdumb

2006-02-07T09:20:00.000+03:00

A bunch of people all over the world were requested to provide some valuable nuggets of wisdom. Some people sent some very thoughtful and chicken soup for the soul stuff, some motivational talk, some philosophical mumbo jumbo, some downright insane, and some quite educational. I’d like to add a statement here by saying that these lines of wisdom were directly pasted from whatever the person sent me, no editing or censoring took place, you cannot hold me accountable for what’s written here, unless you like it, then it was totally my idea to bring these thoughts together. So without further ado, I present to you a global project here on Bahraini Rants entitled: Wise Words of Wisdom from Random People.. enjoy..

Never play leapfrog with a unicorn.

Nobody scratch your back, but your own nail.

He who is shy does not bring children.

Cupcakes are like hugs -- with icing!

When a guy is 16 17 and 18 he MUST do the things a 16, 17 and 18 year old does. If he doesn't he will wind up doing them when he is 30.

Insomnia can be easily remedied by drinking a warm glass of milk and jumping.

Never play 'mouse caught in a mousetrap' with your penis.

What would you do if you weren't afraid? Now go do it!

Don’t brush your hair and then put a turtleneck on immediately after.

Make mistakes faster.

Never play tag with a paraplegic; it’s just not fair.

life . . . live it!

People who know how to eat sushi don't order California rolls.

Pus somewhere + pus nowhere = pus under the diaphragm.

Virginity like bubble, one prick, all gone.

If you're gonna play with the stapler then at least don't keep your finger between the claws.

Man who scratch ass should not bite fingernails.

If in Prague and you're talked into getting in a taxi solo at 4am heading to an unknown destination.. use common sense and jump out if the vehicle starts reversing down an alleyway.

No fear…if you do it, are you going to die?

Sex alleviates the tension caused by love.

run everyday, eat your veggies, but don't miss out on coffee and chocolates.

If people are going to start telling the truth around here, I'm going to bed.

Without information, you are nothing.

I'm a veteran. I've seen hobos miss the train, cats miss the rat, monkey miss the branch.

Oddly, life is much like a house; the view changes from where you stand and the world depends on where you place your windows.

Never go to pay your respects at a funeral after a three-martini lunch.

Timor-Leste (also known as East-Timor) was the last country to be admitted to the United Nations. Following Switzerland, in 2002, it became the 191st member. Timor-Leste is an Island off the coast of SouthEast Asia and Australia. It also happens to be the poorest country in the world, with a purchasing
(or lack of) power parity of $400.

Fit is the new Rich

The impossible lives right next door to the possible. People ring its doorbell by accident everyday.

As we get older; it becomes harder to kid ourselves.

To live a full life one must keep all of the following in balance as well as given the same level of importance: love, career, friends, family, hobbies, motherhood. Become obsessed with one and it throws everything off.

Despite the high cost of living, it remains popular.

Tell the people you love you love them, cause you never know when they'll be taken away.

Sometimes life just feels like you've stepped into a pile of shit on the day you forgot to wear shoes.

The only things you regret on your deathbed are the experiences you never had.

Always stir your martinis never shake, it just gets cloudy, and who wants to drink a spermy looking martini?

s = ut + 1/2*a*t^2

v = u + at

v^2 = u^2 + 2as

You cannot call yourself an adult until you can answer the question, What do you really want? in clear, truthful and uncertain terms.

Produce great pumpkins, the pies will follow later.

Always be nice to waiters - they're the ones who decide whether to spit in your food or not.

Never give advice without explaining your costs first.

Be an icebreaker (conversation wise. Don't go around breaking ice, that's just weird).

Next time you see someone handing out leaflets in the street, take one - it'll help them get home faster.

..be Careful where the dog shits ya.

Contributors: soos, sinister greg, farah, amunki, dave, didi, ricky, no static, mto, karpinski, chanad, lina, mahmood, d, randommo, n, tammyp, deniz, mohamed, rf, tibor, sahar, falco, 248am, steve, barrak, jellybean, bonsaim, leena, and me.

special thanks to the proofreading sleuth..

Vocabulario OCHO

2006-02-01T12:34:00.000+03:00

So we’ve reached the 8th installment of this vocabulary building session here at Bahraini Rant incorporated. After this post, the ol’blog would have contributed to 24 new or not so new words in your vocabulary. Anyways, enjoy the words; use them at your discretion. I shall now stop this malarkey and skedaddle back to my life, the real one.

Word #1 Malarkey
Word #2 Lackadaisical
Word #3 Skedaddle

Oh by the way: I am Spartacus.

hellophoto

2006-01-29T17:26:00.000+03:00

Extracted from the memory card of silly pictures

rainbow bright nearing the end of her career

does my tail look fat in these scales?

even bananas suffer from shrinkage after a dip in the ocean

hey larry, your gill's in my face, waitaminute that's not your gill, goddamit larry!

a whole lot of cancer

a message to all you impressionable crustaceans: Being a mule will result in lobster cavity searches, stay away from drugs kids

mmm, cerveza

samirai jack, new wave new wave

slam, da da daat, da da daat, let the boys be boys

my hand as featured in the vw ad that never was...

thifting to loodakrith thpeed

bloggers in the mirror appear stupider than they really are

SPAM, it's what's for dinner..

2006-01-25T11:12:00.000+03:00

Don’t you hate getting chain letters - Or those “send these to 70 people and your wish will come true” emails - or bill gates will send you a jillion dollars if you email this to everyone on your mailing list..

I have to admit, I sometimes get these silly forwards, and then because I have a couple of minutes of free time, or I might be procrastinating the entire day, I’ll do the little quiz.. you pick your favorite color, you write down the your first initial, you spend the time of adding all the digits in your shoe size, birthday, and partner’s cycle. Then you make your wish - pluck out a strand of your hair and light it on fire repeating the chants in the email…

And then what? They tell you, now forward this to 5 people and your wish will come true, if you forward it to 10 people, your wish will come true before your next birthday.. Shit, you’re so close to your dreams of totalitarian world domination, but now you need to send this out to your friends.. This is when my neurotic thinking comes in, ok my friends will think I’m a totally mentally defective idiot for sending them this stupid forward, so what do I do? Plus what if someone else I send this to is also planning totalitarian world domination; do I want to ruin my chances? That’s when the address book scouring begins.. When I start searching for those old friends that I might have completely lost touch with, group partners from some of my classes in college, defunct emails, anything.. but then the thinking kicks into high gear, what will happen if the powers that be realize that I’m kinda cheating by forwarding this email to people I don’t really consider close friends? Will my wish not come true? You know what else pisses me off? When they actually include a story of how now you’re hexed, you must send this email out to this many people or something evil will befall you.. you really expect me to believe that? Beelzebub’s hanging around the web looking to cast evil down my way? “hmmm, that Bahraini rant bastard didn’t forward to 20 people, FIRE & BRIMSTONE HIS ASS EVIL MONKEYS!!!!!!!”

All this thinking then usually tires me out and I just delete the email forever giving up on my dreams to have the entire world sing praise to me… damn you good fortune forwards..

The other email spam I just can’t stand are the please give me your bank account emails..

It always starts the same way.. some poor kid in some underdeveloped country is sitting there telling you about how these rebels have killed his/her father who just so happened to be the ex-minister of mining gold, diamonds, and little people.. before the daddy got killed by Chuck Taylor Rebels (Klashnikovs and high tops) he took out 5 million dollars in unmarked US treasury bills, but they were locked up in a security firm in another underdeveloped country. The child then asks you for your bank account so they can transfer the money to your account and then have someone rewire the account and then they get your credit card number and then BABAM! You have USD 33,000 worth of calls to miss Cleo on your tab..

The thing that gets me on these emails, is that the grammar is atrocious.. I mean honestly, your daddy was the minister of mining gold, diamonds, and little people; and he couldn’t afford to give you a proper education? I knew a lot of kids in college that were the children of the most corrupt people in Africa, and they could all speak English or French good… and they get so chummy with you in those emails don’t they? Hello my friend, whoa whoa whoa, you’re asking me to be part of a money laundering ring, you’re not my buddy just yet… lets get to know each other first, lets maim some rebels together, do some ancient right of passage that would make me eat a living human thinking it’s a rib eye, maybe get a little militia going, poison a water supply or two, then we can get chummy pal..

What would really get my attention and would actually have me consider replying is if they just jazzed up their Spam email a little bit.. just a little more attention people, that’s all I’m asking, make it a little more enjoyable to read.. maybe they could change the circumstances.. the money could be in a security company in another town that’s run by the evil mayor who’s militia is made up of crazy drugged up rebels. Then what’s needed are the services of a crack ex gulf war rangers team, comprised of an aging leader who loves it when a plan comes together, the pretty intelligence dude, the psychotic transport specialist, and the big bad mothafuqa.. This team will have to make their way to the underdeveloped African country, meet the dead minister’s child, agree to the terms, devise a cunning plan to break into the security firms vault using a pimped out school bus and a map the pretty intelligence dude got from sleeping with the mayors wife. During their raid, they discover that the mayor is extremely corrupt and he’s pumping experimental chemicals from Pharmaceutical Corporation XYZ into the town’s water supply, leaving the townspeople feeling very nauseous and with irritable bowl movements.. A huge standoff could possibly ensue where the psychotic transportations specialist will get shot in the leg saving a malnourished child from being caught in the crossfire.. the battle rages on, the mayor captures the four heroes at gunpoint while he looks away the big bad mothafuqa throws a punch and lodges his fist in the mayor’s skull he dies and the militia disbands running off into the hills.. the security firm’s vault is broken open, the treasury bills are found, along with missing national treasures, a dodo, and a cure for AIDS.. and everyone goes home happy.. now that would warrant a USD 33,000 psychic friends network bill.. yeah…

Waitaminute, what? don’t listen to me.. I’m just babbling…

Vocabulario #7 (i think)

2006-01-17T11:47:00.000+03:00

Hope you haven’t completely given up on me - I’m back, for now.. this week’s vocabulario is brought to you by words ending in “-ious” .. take a look at them, mull them over, think about how you want to include them in your talk this weekend, and then thank this blog for making your vocabulary so much more colorful.. Remember, if you have a good word you’d like included in vocabulario email me at bahrainirants@gmail.com. It’s been weird this break from you.. I really have missed you, my personal space of stupidity… anyways, on with the words..

Word #1 Vivacious
Word #2 Bodacious
Word #3 Ostentatious

Enjoy and be merry..

edu

Play Listing

2006-01-16T11:31:00.000+03:00

Sitting with a jellybean, allowing the ol’Ipod to fill in the silence with its little memory banks of MP3s and good vibes. In my strange and twisted brain the subject of play lists came up, and that’s got me thinking.. how important they are in the life of today’s connected human..

I’m addicted to music.. I spent a good part of the 80s and the 90s making mix tapes.. I even perfected the pause between each track (a very concise lowering the volume on the recording tape and then pushing pause, so the break between each track wasn’t that obvious).. Nothing said I love you as much as a personalized mix.. the fact that you had two sides of recording - the fact that you could embellish the cover with artwork and print, or not – the fact that you picked the music and that you dumped that music on to this little wrapped up magnetic tape.. Ultimately, nothing made the cassette as cool as when you held it in your hand between your thumb and index finger a la Mike Myers from Wayne’s world “I think a little bohemian rhapsody, gentlemen” and then slipped it in the tape player for that moment of madness.. ahh yes the cassette tape, you brought so much joy, you brought so many young lovers together, so many breakups, so much emotion, so much everything.. I miss you Maxwell90 and even your little brother Maxwell60..

Over the years, as music got digitized, compact and mini discs came and went, people began ripping and sharing their music; the cassette tape brought less and less love into people’s lives.. The play list on the other hand, was a different story with a different purpose.. the play list continued to thrive and make people happy.. The play list still found a use in people’s lives.. the play list would be the indicator of your mood, your memory, your trip.. that specific album/mix/list/emotion/vibe allowed you to control the music that you were going to listen to.. you actually created how the tunes were going to flow, for that moment and forever..

I spent many afternoons preparing play lists for my road trips, my 80s fix, eclectically chilled out, pre-party mix, after party mix, super party mix, love in limbo, wise guys, bangbang headbangin’, cool days, snowy mornings, rainy days, fuckin’ hot, one hit wonders, brit pop, psychedelic, sinister sounds, damn it feels good to be a gangsta, guilty cheese, classically remembered, the me like series (me like dancin’, me like beautiful music, me like rockin’).. and I loved it every second of dragging and dropping.. I was wondering what other names people gave their play lists.. hmmm, well?

Looking back and flipping through old lists, the microfiche memories come rushing back like a drug induced flashback.. The music you listened to at that time, the feelings it brought back, the significance of the song and how it tied into that specific play list.. I’m not saying you had to be creative and make everything work and throw in a silly tag for each list.. but go through your old lists, listen to the music, do your little dance and remember. Associate feelings, conversations, with your music, this is the beauty of it all. I fell in love to my play lists, wallowed in my depression with them, got super hyper, invigorated my confidence, went back to the 8th grade, made beautiful love, people watched, connected with my dad and his taste in music, and so much more. Think about it the next time you want to arrange a couple of tracks in your library to provide you with something.. It’s just another way to retain a little piece of your life.. Enjoy it, cause memories like these are golden… To think, this whole thing was spurred from an inspiring play list entitled “release,” a tribute to a new life.. thanks for the moment jellybean..

love your music, cause it loves you back..

vocabulario y adios

2005-12-27T08:45:00.000+03:00

Still on this major whirlwind of self discovery… will be taking a break for a while - not sure how long, just need to realign my life.. it could take a couple of days, it could take a couple of weeks..

Here’s your last three words for a while..

Word #1 Daft-Days
Word #2 Cockamamie
Word #3 Bonzer

So enjoy the last of your daft-days having a bonzer time, thinking of how you’re going to incorporate cockamamie into your vocabulary.

Good bye for now..

br

Vocabulario #5

2005-12-20T12:47:00.000+03:00

Week five and counting ladies and gents.. things are looking interesting – the weather’s getting better and people have started sending in their submissions for words. Remember, bahrainirants@gmail.com for your suggestions, Cerebral Waste has a good one for next week. but for this week, this is what you need to incorporate into your talk. I know I haven’t picked the easiest words to use, but you guys should be pros by now.

Word #1: Finicky
Word #2: Boondoggle
Word #3: Scallywag

I’m in the middle of a heavy moment right now, I don’t really have anything insightful or stupid to say, so I’ll just keep it short. Moo.

10 minutes on music

2005-12-14T15:59:00.000+03:00

Music is just another extension of my character… I use music when describing my mood, I use music to remember conversations, I use music to fill in awkward moments of silence… Music is what dictates my life and I dictate my music… Thought I’d lay down a 10 minute exercise on the music that’s defined my life..

The latest global underground compilation reminding me of days long gone, with that Depeche Mode Lexicon Avenue remix that Digweed and Cataneo made so famous… Foghat and Free for some unabashed 70s rock n roll. The Rolling Stones to remind me that you can’t always get what you want under my thumb… Coldplay for those silence filler moments in our lives (Even though their latest album got Paltrowed) … The “the” bands filling in that modern hipster appeal with that certain ‘je ne sais rien’ taste… Daft Punk for that robot in us all… Annie Lennox for being the most undervalued Diva in music (up your French Canadian ass Celine)… looking for jojo on his search for California grass with the Beatles… Sublime, cause they simply were… Ray Charles, Miles Davis, Satchmo, BB King, Muddy Waters, and John Lee Hooker for real Rhythm & Blues. Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, Dinah Washington, Nina Simone, Gladys night, and Queen Aretha for teaching me about lovin’ and fallin’ in love. Glen Miller, Bobby Darin, Nat King Cole, Dave Brubeck , Louis Prima, Sinatra, Deano, Sammy and the music that actually made you want to wear a suit. LL cool J, for making me want a girl with extensions in her hair, bamboo ear rings at least two pairs… Queen, cause without Freddie Mercury in my life I don’t think I would’ve ever been able to hold a mic with such panache. Getting back into the mid to late 90s alternative collection, toad the wet sprocket, tonic, dishwalla, remember that shit? Singing along with David Bowie and wondering if there really is life on mars… letting Bob Marley rub it to me belly like guava jelly… Spoon for quickly becoming one of my favorite current bands.. Pearl Jam live with Eddie Vedder’s incoherent ramblings and him just going off on a “won the lottereee” tangent. George Clinton and P-Funk: thanks to Depute T who brought the funk out… Sade for making me want to make love to her music, mermaid on no ordinary love is one of the best new agey love songs out there without it being too cheesy, trust me. The Wu-Tang clan: for keeping me still interested in rap – master the art of 52 blocks iron lungs… The Strokes for making me blast their music, seroo gets it (well she gets it all). Ani Difranco – for touching my heart in junior high in terms of her music and my fantasies. Wavy Gravy by Sasha – one of the best electronic tunes in the history of music – really – and Sasha’s such a nice guy, we’re pals.. right mohi… New wave, next wave, post punk, garage rock & the indie rock scene that none of us will ever fully grasp but love with such unbridled passion. The random bands that clap their hands in Brooklyn. Watching trance pass it’s expiration date and shaking my head, feeling the industry never really getting progressive house – leaving the jungle to the junglerats – wondering when people will wake up from electro. Marvin Gaye for being such a cool cat. French Pop rock like Phoenix and Zoot Woman. Nordic representation from Royskopp and the Kings of Convenience – id rather dance id rather dance then talk with you... Loving Dave Mathews in high school and then hating him in college and now liking him all over again, I wonder why? Rai, for bringing much needed credibility to Arabic music. Ricky, Jooj, n Nif for being the only people on this planet who’s taste in rap I trust. Idlewild for writing anthemic music. Aphex Twin-khalas. Asking God why Otis Redding wasn’t given a chance to rerecord Sitting on the Dock of the Bay. Franz Ferdinand for making ballsy music, the rakes for being the new franz, and whomever is going to be the new rakes... Devo, for being so misclassified as a wacky band with that one hit, it’s all about the gut gut feeling.. Cheap Trick for writing the best Karaoke song ever. Jamie Hewlet and Damon Albarn for making virtual musicians that actually rock, I had the hots for tank girl. “METLIKA” for making downloading digital music so much harder. Mylo and that 80s electronica rebirth. Radiohead, if you disagree with this, then I pity your ears. The Smiths – for writing some of the best lyrics ever- I would go out tonight, but I haven’t got a stitch to wear (marvelous?)… Maximo Park for being some of the most refreshing new music I’ve listened to in a while. must listens: Arcade Fire, Interpol, Postal Service, Stars, and throw in Spoon again…. Portishead for roads.. Massive Attack and Mezzanine, need I say more? Tori Amos for her piano playing skills - & a little fantasy dreaming. Harry Connick Jr. made me want to serenade someone. IRON MAIDEN – no questions asked no further explanation necessary. Bill Withers for that song that puts his two timing lover in her place – goddamn what a tune.. Duran Duran because I grew up on them and remained faithful to this day – NO NO NOTORIOUS NOTORIOUS.. Dancey Modern Rock, none of that bullshit on the radio..

there’s so much to talk about I just can’t seem to recall much right now, I’m sure my cd collection is jealous, but she knows I love her so.. Here’s to impulse buys on Amazon, incredibly roundabout reviews on Pitchfork, mistaken mapping on Gnod, shot in the dark searching on Myspace, and all the people that helped me discover new sounds. Special mention goes out to the mod looking fellow at the HMV in Heathrow Airport, Terminal 4. ok that wasn’t too bad was it?

Vocabulario #4

2005-12-13T11:17:00.000+03:00

Back to the board for this week’s edition of what words to slot in into your weekend lingo... If you have an interesting word you’d like considered for vocabulario, drop your suggestion off at bahrainirants@gmail.com. I cannot stress how important it is for you to use these words, for the sake of children, please, for the sake of the children.. You know me and my shenanigans, always trying to abscond from reality yet at the same time remain conspicuous to everyone..

Word #1 Abscond
Word #2 Conspicuous
Word #3 Shenanigan

I’m thinking a lot about Mastodons today.. don’t really know why, but they just look so furry and fun… imagine sliding down those tusks, grabbing on to their fur as they run.. ahh life in the Paleozoic, could have been interesting once you got past the fact you were wearing animal hides and fire was your best friend..

Chemically Dependent

2005-12-12T12:38:00.000+03:00

I strolled into work with minutes to spare - the drive to work had been done in a zombified state – breakfast was good but something was lacking… Waiting in front of the moneymaking corporation’s elevators, I avoided exchanging morning pleasantries. What is with mornings that everyone has to say hello? I mean it’s not just about being nice to the people in your department or on your floor – no, everyone says hello, everyone… Normally, I’d also be slinging my hellos and slipping my good mornings to the people around me. But today was different; I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I could feel it – there was a sense of total discombobulation. What the hell is going through my head? Something’s amiss and I can’t figure it out… The biggest problem is locating the source of discomfort – once you know what it is, that’s half the battle – whether it’s guilt, shame, pain, whatever, once you figure out why you’re feeling blue – you can now work on focusing your attention on the solution… This morning was a totally different case… I had no idea what the hell was happening in my world…

Riding the elevator with the covered mafia, my hallucinations began… Audio and Visuals – I could’ve sworn Bertha (the leader of the cackle of covered women where I work that refuse to have any form of communication or interaction with any member of the opposite sex, because they wouldn’t want to tempt me – sweetie, there is no way on Earth you will ever - let me repeat that, ever, tempt me) actually said hello to me… like lemmings one by one they all ensued in their good mornings… tears welled up in my eyes – what the hell was happening to me?

Leaving the elevator I took a quick right and then a left and made my way to my department’s designated work space… plunking down at my desk, turning on my computer, the lull of the machine normally puts my heart to ease, but this time, it was frustrating… my fingers were rapping the desk to some 99bpm. My knees started to shake.. the migraine began to pierce my head like a jackhammer – pain, debilitating short term pain, not something you couldn’t live with, but just pain that you didn’t need that early in the morning.

And then, like a ton of bricks, it hits me.. I need caffeine. The pain I’m feeling in my head is because of the caffeine, I need coffee and I need it now. Yes yes I know, it’s an addiction that gives you headaches if you don’t cater to it, stains your teeth, leaves you with nasty coffee breath, a diuretic (need I say more?) – but there’s nothing I can do about it.. I need coffee to start my day and then I might need some coffee before lunch and then I will definitely need coffee after lunch to give me that final push to the day’s finish line.

My derived use of coffee is split down the middle, I like the taste of it when it’s good coffee, and I use it to jolt my system. I’m a regulated addict, I’ll drink it when I need to pick myself up and I’ll drink it whenever I feel like it. it just does so many wondrous things to your heartbeat that you can’t really ignore the benefits of coffee..

When this whole thing started, I was particular with my coffee consumption; i had to be drinking something decent. I refused to go near the instant coffee tin at the office, save that for when you’re trapped in a hidden bunker hiding from the fascists. I’ve been known to slum it and drink the instant or folgers, but the pains in my stomach afterwards are just not worth it. And after a family donation, I was the proud owner of an unused Espresso machine that now resides at our designated workspace. She’s my little baby, she’s temperamental at times and can kick up a fuss, but she does get me going. Her steamer doesn’t work as well as I’d like it too, but she does give me good head, of espresso that is..

It didn’t take long before we’d become world-class baristas: Americanos, Macchiatos, lattes, we even created our own version of the cappuccino – notquiteuccino (told you the steamer doesn’t work). It’s not like we’re dolts that spend all our money ordering from these overpriced coffee houses (that does happen though) – no we buy our ground beans and make our own deliciously tasting coffee… well not right now, because it seems my coffee connection “Midel” can’t seem to find me a regular sized bag of ground espresso, and they’re trying to push the 1 kilo bag of pure Café Colombia.

This started with me being angry at my caffeine addiction and turned into my love affair with coffee and the little krups that could. Don’t you wish you worked with me? On the plus side, you’d be drinking delicious coffee. On the minus, you’d be dealing with highly caffeinated people who would probably get you to sing along to some Sinatra tune – maybe even some 50cent..

weekend talk..

2005-12-07T19:41:00.000+03:00

The lack of posting is because I've been spending my time in a seminar in Dubai with Maury the Big Swinging you know what ex private equity banker of bankers. Happy Days Maury Happy Days. I've also been missing an internet connection, and now luckily find myself infront of an Afghani laptop that's got welcome to Kabul stickers on it (no kidding).

It's week 3 of building your weekend vocabulary with edu - So here are this week's words that you must and i mean must, incorporate into your conversations. i think you'll like this episode, me and waseem think they're so funny..

Word #1 Tomfoolery
Word #2 Preposterous
Word #3 Whimsical

I'm working on something.. be patient..

kalimaat

2005-11-29T19:06:00.000+03:00

If you've just stumbled across this blog, then welcome, if you've been here before, then welcome back. I present you with the second episode of "building up your vocabulary with edu"... Last week I gave you three words to slip into your weekend vocabulary. This week, I have three new words for you to squeeze in your conversations with the boss, your loved one, the barman at your watering hole, et cetera et cetera et cetera.

Contrary to what my friend Mahmood from the hitlicious mahmood.tv says, using these words will not get you ahead at work, they will not grow more hair on your chest, they might get people around you to question your sanity, but they will definitely make you feel warm and fuzzy inside.. so here we go..

Word #1: Zing
Word #2: Shilly-Shally
Word #3: Formidable

good luck people, may the words be with you..

TV

2005-11-23T18:01:00.000+03:00

My favorite comedic (you might have to be from this part of the world to appreciate comedic) show of recent years was Arrested Development (fuck you very much fox network for canceling the only good program in your lineup). I got tired of Friends when I realized that it’s humanly impossible for those bums to be able to afford an apartment that big in Manhattan. Seinfeld got boring when you started chronicling the serious based on Jerry’s ridiculous haircuts. Law and Order got tedious after they made spin off a spin-off: Law and Order: the records department. All those ongoing legal dramas, who knew Boston had so many law firms and so much tension in them? The stupid teen dramas were so far fetched that it was ridiculously unbelievable for that kid with the cowboy hat to fit in Beverly Hills…

Then came the wave of reality TV, where everything was about putting Real People in front of the camera and filming it. Mary-Ellis Bunim held the world ransom with her Real World series and everything else, while Mark Burnett conned the world into making people live like animals on survivor for a measly million dollars. What happened next? A onslaught of the stupidest tv shows ever imaginable: Joe Millionaire, the Bachelor, the Bachelorette, Temptation Island, Mr. Perfect, Trading Spouses, Who cut the Cheese, who wants to be a wrestler, the apprentice, the list just goes on and on. They even had a reality tv show about failed reality tv stars trying to make a real movie, but the process of making the movie was a reality tv show – fuckin’ lame-o. The one thing you can take from these Reality TV shows is how gullible people are when it comes to spoon feeding them something to watch.. You take a bunch of people, throw them on a deserted island, give them 40 days and a bunch of tasks and then let them vote each other off… to me that was just half assed reality tv. If you’re gonna do it, you might as well do it all the way, go for gold. Throw those people on a deserted island, break them up into two teams, make them fight it out to the death and then when there’s one winner left, give him/her the money. They just outlived those other contestants, I’d watch that. Put in real emotion, have revenge twists where the family of one of the dead contestants is put on the island with AK47s and has three hours to extract revenge. As for the Real world, why don’t you really make it like the Real World and throw these people out on the street, or put them all in a 1 bedroom apartment, let them get jobs, let them try to survive, that’s when people really stop being nice…

Today’s TV has evolved to the next popular wave… now you have all these TV series with action and adventure, intense drama and humor. Some have outlived their useful life, while others are still plowing along. I thought I’d single out some of the more popular shows..

Sopranos – Great show but,, HBO should’ve killed everyone at least a season ago.. this is dragging a little too much.. Wiseguys running around Jersey, making the garden state appealing in a mobster kinda way - It’s JERSEY WTF!! Thanks to the defamation of Italian Americans, you now have a bunch of morons saying Bada Bing and hey fughedaboudit. I love all gangster movies, but thanks to the intense popularity of this show, you’ve got middle aged, overweight mortgage brokers in long island hoping to get cast as Tony’s “other cousin” Roberto, the one that just mysteriously showed up to give the story another season. I seriously did see a headshot of an overweight mortgage broker from long island wearing a black leather coat and holding a 357 magnum, ready to “off” somebody for a role. It’s the fucking Cosa Nostra! Not some carnival freak show you take lightly – show some respect.

24 – Thanks to OBL and his Al Qaeda posse of “I’m right and you’re wrong so let me inflict pain on you to get my point through” assholes, 24 became the hottest shit on tv. America is constantly under attack and the entire season is 24 hours long.. How much trouble can American get into in 24 hours? Apparently enough to resurrect Keifer Sutherland’s Career – you lost me with the musketeers movie Keifer.. you lost me..

CSI – following the Police Dramas now Crime Scene Investigators are the “in” heroes. They find the evidence to implicate people in crimes. Pretty cool right? yeah it actually is. Except for the unbelievable fact that the CSI team is so smart that they should actually be giving college lectures instead of searching for DNA with a cotton bud. What I also don’t understand is what is the CSI budget like? I mean the team in Las Vegas have all sorts of cool experiment aiding equipment: pressure testers, volatile chemicals, gadgets and gizmos, all sorts of custom modified gear. And how believable is it that the CSI team is hip and happening and everyone’s very beautiful?

Sex and the City – Damn you 4 ladies for making my life more of a living hell.. if it wasn’t for the odd nude scene every once in a while, there was no way I was going to be able to enjoy the show. I admit the first season and a half were very interesting (when the stars could pass for women in their early to mid thirties looking for love in all the wrong places). A novel show with a fresh approach to being 4 single women in the big city, each with her own agenda. The show blew up, and HBO had another winner. To me, Sex and the City lost its shine when prime time family sitcoms started quoting stuff from the show. You know everything’s gone downhill when an ABC Friday lineup sitcom is discussing Sex and the City and the slutty one’s love interest, the shawarma guy. The show’s over and there will be no more of those 4 ladies roaming New York looking for love in all the wrong places, well except on the rerun loop of eternity. Personally, I think the producers had to make a judgement call, who wants to watch 4 single middle aged women in New York discussing menopause – save that for, Golden Girls “The Next Generation”.

Lost (aka crack cocaine) – I can’t help it.. It’s just one kick in the nuts after another. When you think you finally have a grasp on what’s going on, the show throws you another curveball leaving you as clueless as an anagram solving dyslexic. Basic story – plane crashes on an island, survivors try to survive, all sorts of shit happens. There are holes in the story, but I’m still watching and I’m still addicted. Right now, because you’re in the dark (and have no clue as to where the plot’s heading), any shred of information that’s thrown your way puts you in a catatonic state and rushes through your blood stream making you want more.

So what has this ridiculous rambling on current TV taught us? Absafuckinlootly nothing, just wanted to go off on a rant. TV shows get milked and then butchered and exploited for everything they’re worth, and the networks survive on conning the viewer and sucking him/her in. Example: Matt Groening chained to his desk, by FOX (you guys were already on my shit list for your stupid news station, now you’re on my “sandnigga’s gonna go postal on you” list – what? I can say it, can’t I?) trying to think of the next Simpsons escapade. Or how about the nonstop reruns of Seinfeld and Friends – seriously guys, the party’s over, the only person that’s still laughing are the characters from those sitcoms with their royalty checks. Waitaminute… I think I’ve figured out the reason for this post – because you people were busy watching these stupid shows and not ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT, FOX cancelled my favorite show. Damn you Nielsens, DAMN YOU ALL!!!

3 words

2005-11-22T16:13:00.000+03:00

Ok here’s the story: I’m going to start making you all play my game.. It’s called “improving your random vocabulary with edu”.. Very simple, in fact it’s so simple, you’re gonna love it.. I pick three words in the middle of every week (I’m hoping every week, if I can get off my ass and make it happen).. It’s up to you to incorporate these three words into your vocabulary this weekend (whenever that may be).. They might be colorful, maybe nice sounding, maybe boring, who knows. But I guarantee you this, incorporating these words into your informal chitchatting will make you feel warm and fuzzy, or your money back. And that’s my guarantee..

Word #1: Saucy.
Word #2: Bamboozle.
Word #3: Pernicious.

Good luck with slipping these words in..