Men Vs. Women
The Public Restroom debacle
The main divide between men and women when it comes to the bathroom is the perception of intended use. The men’s bathroom is streamlined and efficient – you never have to wait too long before you can take your slash. I attribute this efficiency to the fact that we can pee standing up, a huge plus – we’ve got our urinals and our stalls, no need for a nest, no need for squatting or anything like that… Unfortunately, this bonus of being able to be in and out tends to leave the bathroom in a state of disarray… We can pee standing up, but that doesn’t mean we can aim standing up or that we can throw the tissues in the trash, or even wash our hands. It’s the knowledge of how fast a trip to the bathroom can be for a man that makes him speed up through everything - we even avoid conversation because it’ll throw us off.. We want to get back to what we were doing before the bathroom..
Women, view the bathroom in a different light than men… See, they treat the facilities as a little safe haven for them… because of the fact that they require a stall, sometimes there’s more demand for stalls than actual supply, leading them to take advantage of this waiting time by reapplying makeup, adjusting their cleavage, farting (don’t deny it), and whatever else they need to do… Conversations are sparked up between complete strangers, cigarette smoking, stock tips – the bathroom is social gathering point for women… very interesting...
Maybe this has to do with our genetic hunter – gatherer makeup… Men were initially hunters, so they’re used to being quiet creeping around in places able to avoid conversation.. Women on the other hand, were gatherers, they needed to keep talking to keep busy and to scare away any frightening animals with their ‘chatter’… Maybe that’s why women talk so much in bathrooms and why men are so quiet… I don’t know.. Maybe I’m just pondering a useless thought…
Personal Bathrooms
A Man’s personal toilet has his mark on it… He probably has some dried toothpaste in the sink, his razor blade and shaving cream, one bottle of Shampoo and Conditioner (or he could just have a 2 in1 bottle), soap, and his basic and I mean basic toiletries, his clothes half in – half out of the laundry basket, a wet towel on the floor, probably some puddles of water from when he ran out of the shower because he remembered the toothpaste but not the toothbrush… The man usually has questionable hygiene concerns when it comes to “his” bathroom. Let’s face it, we’re a mess in the bathroom, our motto is: “If you can wipe it off then it’s clean.” But this is why a man rarely takes time to get ready (even pretty boys) – because there are no surprises: enter bathroom, shit, shower, shave, done (the order is interchangeable)… (I understand that men today have improved on this image and thanks to David Beckham and his metro-sexuality, men feel better about standing in line with their shampoo, conditioner, scrubber, rubber ducky, etc. – thanks 'Bu Brooklyn)
Women treat their personal bathrooms much MUCH differently… Before I go into detail allow me to remind you: Women have more utensils, instruments and equipment in their bathroom than you will ever handle in your life… they’ve got stuff to pluck, curl, straighten, highlight, accentuate, depress, pinch, tighten, loosen, shave, cut, sever, file, and some you will never learn about, never… don’t bother trying to understand it all, just don’t touch anything and you’ll minimize inflicting any pain on yourself… Women have shampoos conditioners for the different stages their hair goes through. Women have body washes, different scrubs for different parts of the body, moisturizers, face washes, cleansers, astringents, masks, wraps, paraffin wax, and so much more stuff… Women definitely do spend more time on grooming, and I have to say that: whatever you like… As much as I complain that women take so much time in the bathroom, I’d much have her feeling completely ready than me rushing her - you never want to rush a lady... The one thing that is inexcusable and I mean INEXCUSABLE is their hair getting clogged up in the shower drain – if you have ever had to extract this mess out of the drain then you know what disgusting mess I’m talking about… Ladies, for all your prepping and cleanliness, can’t you do something about the hair in the drain? Please? Oh and one more thing – what the hell is Patchouli anyways?
Pooping
Comfort zones: they are essential to pooping, some people have them and some don’t. Some people only feel comfortable with their own bathroom where they have total control of the environment. Some people need to mark their territory and feel comfortable with the place, it could take a number of visits to the 14th floor bathroom before you can get the right amount of privacy, comfort and solitude to poop right… I don’t need to tell you that when you need to go, you need to go, and that’s when your survival skills come into play - can you build a nest out of toilet paper if need be? Other people might go and locate the nearest oasis to them… maybe, it’s the men’s bathroom located by the main function hall at a 5 star hotel. Maybe it’s a secret bathroom stall on the 7th floor that no one uses. Maybe it’s your friend’s apartment not too far from work… ok now I really feel like George Costanza with his knowledge of the cleanest public restrooms in Manhattan… My problem with the comfort zone is that I poop in silence at home - there’s no one barging into the bathroom or making any noises three feet away from me… so how do you expect me to poop in comfort? Other people are out of the closet poopers, they go to the bathroom with that newspaper under their arm and everyone knows exactly what’s going to happen there… out of the closet pooping is quite liberating since you’re not constricted by any silly mental issues… I don’t want to make this generalization because it’s not right, but it’s too funny to not mention – someone once told me that the Germans build their toilets so that there’s a protruding piece of porcelain your poop hits before it reaches water… They say the Germans do this because they like to look at their poop, y’know to inspect it… “ooh there goes that corn that I had with my lunch” – do you inspect your poop? It’s all right if you do… Reading and pooping go hand in hand if you’re a guy… I don’t know why but women don’t like to read as much on the toilet.. Men? Hell we’ll do anything, read, crossword (I have a mug filled with pens by my throne), shave, brush our teeth – to us, we consider it multitasking to women, they consider it weird…
Men and their Privacy
Going back to my ‘men in bathrooms’ point and borrowing a little from Dave Barry, I’d like to bring your attention to the urinal location quandary, a very interesting observation/experiment…. Lets say there are five urinals in a bathroom (A-E). A guy walks into the bathroom looking to take a slash, he will immediately move to one of end urinals, (A or E, lets say A in this case) because he doesn’t want anyone next to him.. Someone else walks into to pee, now he sees 4 free urinals, yet due to his male nature, I’m willing to bet he’ll take the farthest Urinal from A, Urinal E… This is because there’s plenty of space between him and the dude at Urinal A. Now lets assume someone else walks into the toilet and there’s only 5 urinals and both on either end are occupied (A & E), this leaves pisser #3 with B, C, or D – but if you haven’t guessed it, he’s going to choose C because then he’s leaving a Urinal on either side as a buffer zone between the other two guys on either side of him… If another guy walks in to take a leak, then his arrival disrupts the pattern and he needs to squeeze in and take B or D – OR… he’ll use a stall or wait till someone else finishes to go back an enjoy at least a 1 urinal buffer zone. It just has to do with this privacy issue, but if you can keep a urinal buffer zone, you will always do it, even if it means having to bypass a free urinal for one a couple of steps away to satisfy your buffer requirement. If you’re a guy, pay attention to this bathroom urinal law, it really works, why? I don’t know but notice next time nature calls, the urinal buffer zone is essential to private peeing… There are some catches to men’s urinal law: if the urinal stinks, has vomit in it, it just too disgusting to use, then you will forgo the buffer zone for a clean place to pee…
Final Words
I can’t believe I actually wrote something about this… not really something you normally talk about, but something we all think about… I guess I’m just thinking aloud… maybe I should stay quiet..
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Argentine Asado (Good Global Eating)
One of the best barbeques I’ve been fortunate enough to sample has to be an Argentinean Asado… I know this is already going to inflate their ready to burst egos (che boludo), but it’s true, dem Argies really know how to cook meat. Through the guidance of some cool gauchos I’ve come to understand how to pick the choicest cuts, the secrets of doneness, taming the flame, feeling & feeding the fuel, patience, enjoying the moment, and letting that smell of cooked meat waft through your nostrils and just linger there…
A couple of notes on Argentine Grilling… Have you ever inspected a raw steak close up? Do you see those white lines running across the meat, that’s actually intra-muscular fat called marbling. “Classy” Continental cooking always wants you to pick steaks with even marbling, because they believe the cut will be tender and as the fat melts while you cook the steak, it’ll naturally baste the meat for you… Argentine cooking does take marbling into consideration but is more about the tender meaty sirloin & tenderloin… Another very peculiar note of mention is the way the Argies like their ribs.. They actually have the butcher cut through the bone and produce strips of ribs.. So you’ll have a long strip of: meat, then a piece of bone, then meat, then bone, and so on and so forth. There’s no marinade except olive oil, salt and pepper – this is because you're meant to serve your meat with Chimmichurri (will explain) sauce. I like to eat my steaks with wholegrain mustard, maybe you do too... Bread is usually on the table to make you a sandwich from the bbq if you like, and the veggies are limited to a couple of simple salads… The emphasis is on the meat, the salads are just there to cleanse your palette between the different types of meat… Empanadas (Turnovers) are also served at Asados (but I'll have another post for that, discussing the debate between the corn flour or regular flour empanoolees)...
Chefs will always tell you only flip the steak once, or you can’t do this or that, or don’t prod… hogwash.. That’s just people telling you what to do… There are some basic principles that you need to adhere to, but everything else is relative and open to tweaking. One of the main aspects of grilling is that you need two heat sections on your grill, direct and indirect heat. You want a section of the grill where you can sear and properly cook your meat on the outside (direct) and a place on the grill where your meat can cook from the inside (indirect)… apart from that, flipping more than once (although I try to limit my flipping), checking for doneness, voodoo dances in front of the flame, that’s all optional…
The Argies don’t really care for bbq marinades and condiments, they have their own majestic sauce: Chimmichurri. This sauce is what does it for me, the entire meal revolves around the adaptability of this sauce, able to go with: bread, sausages, ribs, steak, whatever you like… Basically, take a lot of parsley, chop it up, add vinegar (white or balsamic), oregano, salt pepper, top it off with olive oil, mix it up and then let it sit… Don’t be afraid to experiment with types of vinegar or other spices to add.. Just don’t deviate from “a lot of parsley, vinegar and olive oil” and you’ll be fine…
Once you have your fire going (basic rule: hand needs to 6 inches from the fire for a couple of seconds max), and the sangria is flowing then you start the Asado… First up are the appetizers: Chorizo or any other sausages you prefer. Never forget to puncture the Chorizo with a fork to let the grease inside the sausage seep out.. There have been cases where the chorizo has exploded and sent hot sausage grease all over the cooking space, so watch out (I think that’s the Argentinean boy scout motto when it comes to grilling, I’ve heard that 4 different times from 4 different people – it’s like look both ways before you cross the street, except with the Argies, it’s fork the chorizo before you throw it on the grill)… grill up the sausages and serve them anyway you want: sliced, whole… I like to slice them down the center lengthwise, tear off a piece of bread lay on some chimmichurri, making myself a sandwich affectionately known as “Chori-pan.”
Next up is Provoleta… ok I believe this is just Provolone Cheese thrown on the grill… Basically, layer thick slices of Provolone cheese in a skillet or one of those little aluminum trays, dribble a little olive oil and some oregano and throw it on the grill… the heat will melt the cheese and then you take your bread and scoop up the melted cheese and enjoy… So simple, yet so delicious…
Enough with the teasing appetizers… Let’s move on the Carne… first up are the ribs… Just like I mentioned above, the ribs are cut lengthwise through the bone with around a 3 inch width… You throw these long strips on the grill and just wait… Thanks to my carnivorous little sister, I’ve taken a huge liking to ribs, but served the American way, where you eat the meat off the bone and have the whole rack drowning in bbq sauce… Honestly, the Asado ribs look really appetizing because you’ve got some cooked meat then a piece of bone, then some more cooked meat, it just looks cool.. With the Chimmichurri spooned on top, euuuf…
The steak is the piece de resistance of the Asado… The Boludos do nothing to their steak except rub it with salt and pepper. The GF and I developed the “slice mini pockets into the steak and stuff them with chunks of garlic” technique – a garlic burst of flavor – which totally works but you can do it anyway you want. Whatever way you opt to cook your meat, follow these rules: Leave your meat on the direct heat section of the grill to let it sear from the outside and then flip… Don’t let it totally cook from the outside; you just want to get some nice grill marks and seal it, trapping the juices inside the meat… Move the steak to an indirect heat section on the grill, to let it slowly cook from the inside… As a rule, I cook all my steaks medium (middle of the line) for people; I’m not going to tell you that Medium rare is the way to go (even though it really is), you can have your steak anyway you like it… but if you tell me you want it well done, I’m still going to give it to you medium – believe me it tastes better than a dried steak… I digress, anyways you’ve just cooked your steak to the desired level of doneness… what now? Well now you wait… the outside is perfectly seared with nice grill marks, the inside has slowly cooked, but the juices are floating inside the steak.. You need to let the steak rest a bit (around 3-5 minutes from taking it off the grill), just to let the juices settle, the cooking process slow down and allow the meat to adjust to its new life as a steak. Once you assemble the steak on your plate, take a couple of spoonfuls of chimmichurri and lay it on… Slice through that steak revealing the different colors and degrees of cooking… the outside is nicely done and grilled, while the center is pink and soft, with the juice from the steak trickling onto your plate. The chimmichurri sauce is just the right accompaniment to the meat – vinegar, parsley and olive oil: it beats any steak sauce any day…
Savoring every bite, you slowly continue to devour your steak, spooning on more chimmichurri, and having that “ohh wow, this is so perfect right now “ expression… That’s what I love about steak, if done right, the meat does on a number on your taste buds that can forever change your views on life.. You carnivores know exactly what I’m talking about
More meat is grilled, more wine is poured, more laughs are shared and more people relax. Communal cooking is always fun, and with the right drivers – you’ve got the right evening. You don’t understand how many good nights have all started off with a trip to the butcher to buy some steak, or dividing up the responsibilities of the Asado…
One of the few moments a man really feels like a man is when he’s standing in front of the fire with the dead carcass of an animal he’s going to devour cooked by his own hands…
If you want to top off the evening in true Argie Fashion: then you must indulge your sweet tooth in Alfajores Cookies... these babies are individually wrapped creme filled cookies and one is usually enough to keep you at bay... The chocolate flavored ones are pretty delicious, but I need to go with the Dulce De Leche as my personal favorite - woooooooweeeeeee, now that's an evening I could definitely do with...
A couple of notes on Argentine Grilling… Have you ever inspected a raw steak close up? Do you see those white lines running across the meat, that’s actually intra-muscular fat called marbling. “Classy” Continental cooking always wants you to pick steaks with even marbling, because they believe the cut will be tender and as the fat melts while you cook the steak, it’ll naturally baste the meat for you… Argentine cooking does take marbling into consideration but is more about the tender meaty sirloin & tenderloin… Another very peculiar note of mention is the way the Argies like their ribs.. They actually have the butcher cut through the bone and produce strips of ribs.. So you’ll have a long strip of: meat, then a piece of bone, then meat, then bone, and so on and so forth. There’s no marinade except olive oil, salt and pepper – this is because you're meant to serve your meat with Chimmichurri (will explain) sauce. I like to eat my steaks with wholegrain mustard, maybe you do too... Bread is usually on the table to make you a sandwich from the bbq if you like, and the veggies are limited to a couple of simple salads… The emphasis is on the meat, the salads are just there to cleanse your palette between the different types of meat… Empanadas (Turnovers) are also served at Asados (but I'll have another post for that, discussing the debate between the corn flour or regular flour empanoolees)...
Chefs will always tell you only flip the steak once, or you can’t do this or that, or don’t prod… hogwash.. That’s just people telling you what to do… There are some basic principles that you need to adhere to, but everything else is relative and open to tweaking. One of the main aspects of grilling is that you need two heat sections on your grill, direct and indirect heat. You want a section of the grill where you can sear and properly cook your meat on the outside (direct) and a place on the grill where your meat can cook from the inside (indirect)… apart from that, flipping more than once (although I try to limit my flipping), checking for doneness, voodoo dances in front of the flame, that’s all optional…
The Argies don’t really care for bbq marinades and condiments, they have their own majestic sauce: Chimmichurri. This sauce is what does it for me, the entire meal revolves around the adaptability of this sauce, able to go with: bread, sausages, ribs, steak, whatever you like… Basically, take a lot of parsley, chop it up, add vinegar (white or balsamic), oregano, salt pepper, top it off with olive oil, mix it up and then let it sit… Don’t be afraid to experiment with types of vinegar or other spices to add.. Just don’t deviate from “a lot of parsley, vinegar and olive oil” and you’ll be fine…
Once you have your fire going (basic rule: hand needs to 6 inches from the fire for a couple of seconds max), and the sangria is flowing then you start the Asado… First up are the appetizers: Chorizo or any other sausages you prefer. Never forget to puncture the Chorizo with a fork to let the grease inside the sausage seep out.. There have been cases where the chorizo has exploded and sent hot sausage grease all over the cooking space, so watch out (I think that’s the Argentinean boy scout motto when it comes to grilling, I’ve heard that 4 different times from 4 different people – it’s like look both ways before you cross the street, except with the Argies, it’s fork the chorizo before you throw it on the grill)… grill up the sausages and serve them anyway you want: sliced, whole… I like to slice them down the center lengthwise, tear off a piece of bread lay on some chimmichurri, making myself a sandwich affectionately known as “Chori-pan.”
Next up is Provoleta… ok I believe this is just Provolone Cheese thrown on the grill… Basically, layer thick slices of Provolone cheese in a skillet or one of those little aluminum trays, dribble a little olive oil and some oregano and throw it on the grill… the heat will melt the cheese and then you take your bread and scoop up the melted cheese and enjoy… So simple, yet so delicious…
Enough with the teasing appetizers… Let’s move on the Carne… first up are the ribs… Just like I mentioned above, the ribs are cut lengthwise through the bone with around a 3 inch width… You throw these long strips on the grill and just wait… Thanks to my carnivorous little sister, I’ve taken a huge liking to ribs, but served the American way, where you eat the meat off the bone and have the whole rack drowning in bbq sauce… Honestly, the Asado ribs look really appetizing because you’ve got some cooked meat then a piece of bone, then some more cooked meat, it just looks cool.. With the Chimmichurri spooned on top, euuuf…
The steak is the piece de resistance of the Asado… The Boludos do nothing to their steak except rub it with salt and pepper. The GF and I developed the “slice mini pockets into the steak and stuff them with chunks of garlic” technique – a garlic burst of flavor – which totally works but you can do it anyway you want. Whatever way you opt to cook your meat, follow these rules: Leave your meat on the direct heat section of the grill to let it sear from the outside and then flip… Don’t let it totally cook from the outside; you just want to get some nice grill marks and seal it, trapping the juices inside the meat… Move the steak to an indirect heat section on the grill, to let it slowly cook from the inside… As a rule, I cook all my steaks medium (middle of the line) for people; I’m not going to tell you that Medium rare is the way to go (even though it really is), you can have your steak anyway you like it… but if you tell me you want it well done, I’m still going to give it to you medium – believe me it tastes better than a dried steak… I digress, anyways you’ve just cooked your steak to the desired level of doneness… what now? Well now you wait… the outside is perfectly seared with nice grill marks, the inside has slowly cooked, but the juices are floating inside the steak.. You need to let the steak rest a bit (around 3-5 minutes from taking it off the grill), just to let the juices settle, the cooking process slow down and allow the meat to adjust to its new life as a steak. Once you assemble the steak on your plate, take a couple of spoonfuls of chimmichurri and lay it on… Slice through that steak revealing the different colors and degrees of cooking… the outside is nicely done and grilled, while the center is pink and soft, with the juice from the steak trickling onto your plate. The chimmichurri sauce is just the right accompaniment to the meat – vinegar, parsley and olive oil: it beats any steak sauce any day…
Savoring every bite, you slowly continue to devour your steak, spooning on more chimmichurri, and having that “ohh wow, this is so perfect right now “ expression… That’s what I love about steak, if done right, the meat does on a number on your taste buds that can forever change your views on life.. You carnivores know exactly what I’m talking about
More meat is grilled, more wine is poured, more laughs are shared and more people relax. Communal cooking is always fun, and with the right drivers – you’ve got the right evening. You don’t understand how many good nights have all started off with a trip to the butcher to buy some steak, or dividing up the responsibilities of the Asado…
One of the few moments a man really feels like a man is when he’s standing in front of the fire with the dead carcass of an animal he’s going to devour cooked by his own hands…
If you want to top off the evening in true Argie Fashion: then you must indulge your sweet tooth in Alfajores Cookies... these babies are individually wrapped creme filled cookies and one is usually enough to keep you at bay... The chocolate flavored ones are pretty delicious, but I need to go with the Dulce De Leche as my personal favorite - woooooooweeeeeee, now that's an evening I could definitely do with...
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Ptown, Massachusetts
A fishing village comprising of Portuguese immigrants, a rest stop for Pirates, a famous art colony with it’s picturesque landscapes, and today’s Gay summer capital of America. Located at the tip of Cape Code in Massachusetts, Provincetown retains its place as a major part of American history – from every single aspect…
You’re probably wondering why the hell is he writing about a gay town? Well let me tell you, I have a close relationship with this gay town starting off with a trip down with my family many years ago and continuing almost every summer till I left to come back here… Vacationing one summer with my family, we ended up on Massachusetts’ summer getaway: Cape Cod… This is just a beautiful cape that extends into the Atlantic Ocean, filled with beach towns, summer life, ice cream parlors, just like it is in the movies… You’ve got little cottages spread out, the Kennedy’s and their summer compound in Hyannis, antiquing expeditions that could go on for days, mouthwatering seafood, sand dunes, beaches, and that coastal region feel to the place. The Cape has its year round inhabitants, but the summer months is when the seasonal dwellers come, businesses thrive off tourists, and life is busy… Anyways, back to my story: Bahraini family on Cape Cod, sticking out like a sore thumb, mom’s busy visiting antique stores, buying woman’s suffrage plates and memorabilia (you rock mami)… My dad’s checking out artwork, antiques and pocket watches to add to his collection. And there we were: 4 kids ranging from grade school to college student, just enjoying being on holiday… Asking around, some tourist center tells us we need to check out Provincetown, so we pile up into our rented van (I told you we stuck out like a sore thumb) and off we go… driving up to Ptown, you can actually see the coastline and get a feel of the “map view” of the place, sand dunes and little cottages adorning the coastline. Driving up to a public parking lot, we encounter two men holding hands and strolling by.. My mother, being the slightly traditional person she is, and for being a Bahraini woman never to have visited gaytown USA, wonders why they’re holding hands (Mind you, this is all happening sometime in the very early 90s – very early, when homosexuality wasn’t as publicly tolerated as it is now)… My brother then reassures her that “this is America, it’s not Bahrain – you will see men acting affectionate towards each other, it’s normal”… We park the car, and start making our way to the town center… Along the walk, we encountered more men holding hands, women holding hands, groups of people together, men wearing sarongs coming from the beach, kisses being exchanged… We apprehensively made our way to the town center, cursing the tourist center guide that recommended Ptown to us...
The cozy feel of Commercial street is unrivalled, small narrow streets with shops of all kinds with people walking in and out of trendy designer shops, galleries, fetish-o-ramas, bakeries, everything… We soon find out that not only are we sticking out like sore thumbs, we’re a minority in a minority’s safe haven.. Arab family in a Gay town? The next 30 minutes of lost wanderings were filled with moments of “What the hell are we doing here? Why are those two men kissing? SO MANY GAY PEOPLE! Is that a man or a woman in the evening gown?” After our initial freak out and with a little help from the tourist guidebook, we soon discover we have entered Provincetown, where Gaydom reigns… Not to have wasted an hour in driving up here, my parents decide to tromp along the streets of Ptown and see what all this fuss is about… It wasn’t long before the ‘rents discovered a bunch of starving artists and the wonderful world of extremely beautiful and very affordable artwork… Galleries galore, street performers, weird shops, restaurants, we ended up having the best time a straight family could possibly have… Heading back to our rented holiday abode, my parents made a pledge that they will visit Ptown every year to purchase their paintings, dine at the most delicious restaurants, and be around the insanity and the fun…
Soon after that, every summer we made our way to Boston, my parents would rent a car just to drive 3 hours each way to Provincetown to enjoy their little gay gem in the western hemisphere… We went on whale watches, learned about the pirates, my mother would buy bags and bags of saltwater taffy, walks on the beaches, taking in the quaintness of it all, strolls on their narrow streets, taking pictures of the beautiful cottages, visiting the different monuments… everything… I’m not saying we didn’t see some weird shit, because every single member of my family can tell you of something totally weird they saw in that little town – but it was all about the experience, not about infringing on someone’s personal space or freedom… We all built a lasting relationship with that town, and it really helped us with accepting people for who they are… My parents were so in love with Ptown, that they actually started inviting their friends from Bahrain who were visiting in the area… (Having had a couple of their kids study in Massachusetts, my parents have become seasoned New Englanders, they know where to take you for this and that, shopping, sight seeing, good Vermont Cheddar, everything)… The mistake they made is sometimes insisting on bringing their friends (and sometimes, less open minded friends) with them to Ptown… I don’t have to tell you that it wasn’t that enjoyable…
We weren’t the only people to fall in love with Ptown… Apart from the fact that some of the greatest artists in the 20th century used to hang out there, Khalil Gibran used to party there during the 50s, Al Jafee (a cartoonist from mad magazine) lived there, and so many more that I can’t seem to recollect right now… The year round residents may have totaled a couple of thousand, but during the summer, that town had over 50 thousand residents. This was the Gay capital of the East coast: you had some of the most successful and talented people living in this one little town in the summer… Artists, musicians, chefs, Thespians (got ya), so many people living there every summer… Think about it, the best clothes you wear, the most interesting food you eat, the artwork you admire: the people that made that possible for you to experience have their own little getaway… Now imagine visiting that cultural center. Now imagine that cultural center is a beach town…
The other side to Ptown that I didn’t know if I liked or not was the looks you sometimes got from the gay community… It was like, “Hey you straight asshole, you’ve got the entire world to go stomping around, can’t we have our own space?” My reply to that was, “Fuck you Nancy, I’ve had a relationship with this town too. I’ve seen stores open and shut down over the years, I’ve swam in these waters, I’ve taken pictures and enjoyed these streets, I’ve done your afternoon tea parties that go on till dawn… we’ve made friends with residents only to find out they’ve died of AIDS the following year when we’ve come to visit. You sit here and don’t want discrimination, but now that the tables are turned you have to discriminate?” Sometimes I don’t blame some of them for feeling that way, but that’s not going to stop me from enjoying that place...
For those of you comfortable with your sexuality and are not fazed out by people doing whatever they want to do, I highly recommend Ptown… it’s a wonderful little summer town, with a great vibe rivaling some of the best cities on this planet…
You’re probably wondering why the hell is he writing about a gay town? Well let me tell you, I have a close relationship with this gay town starting off with a trip down with my family many years ago and continuing almost every summer till I left to come back here… Vacationing one summer with my family, we ended up on Massachusetts’ summer getaway: Cape Cod… This is just a beautiful cape that extends into the Atlantic Ocean, filled with beach towns, summer life, ice cream parlors, just like it is in the movies… You’ve got little cottages spread out, the Kennedy’s and their summer compound in Hyannis, antiquing expeditions that could go on for days, mouthwatering seafood, sand dunes, beaches, and that coastal region feel to the place. The Cape has its year round inhabitants, but the summer months is when the seasonal dwellers come, businesses thrive off tourists, and life is busy… Anyways, back to my story: Bahraini family on Cape Cod, sticking out like a sore thumb, mom’s busy visiting antique stores, buying woman’s suffrage plates and memorabilia (you rock mami)… My dad’s checking out artwork, antiques and pocket watches to add to his collection. And there we were: 4 kids ranging from grade school to college student, just enjoying being on holiday… Asking around, some tourist center tells us we need to check out Provincetown, so we pile up into our rented van (I told you we stuck out like a sore thumb) and off we go… driving up to Ptown, you can actually see the coastline and get a feel of the “map view” of the place, sand dunes and little cottages adorning the coastline. Driving up to a public parking lot, we encounter two men holding hands and strolling by.. My mother, being the slightly traditional person she is, and for being a Bahraini woman never to have visited gaytown USA, wonders why they’re holding hands (Mind you, this is all happening sometime in the very early 90s – very early, when homosexuality wasn’t as publicly tolerated as it is now)… My brother then reassures her that “this is America, it’s not Bahrain – you will see men acting affectionate towards each other, it’s normal”… We park the car, and start making our way to the town center… Along the walk, we encountered more men holding hands, women holding hands, groups of people together, men wearing sarongs coming from the beach, kisses being exchanged… We apprehensively made our way to the town center, cursing the tourist center guide that recommended Ptown to us...
The cozy feel of Commercial street is unrivalled, small narrow streets with shops of all kinds with people walking in and out of trendy designer shops, galleries, fetish-o-ramas, bakeries, everything… We soon find out that not only are we sticking out like sore thumbs, we’re a minority in a minority’s safe haven.. Arab family in a Gay town? The next 30 minutes of lost wanderings were filled with moments of “What the hell are we doing here? Why are those two men kissing? SO MANY GAY PEOPLE! Is that a man or a woman in the evening gown?” After our initial freak out and with a little help from the tourist guidebook, we soon discover we have entered Provincetown, where Gaydom reigns… Not to have wasted an hour in driving up here, my parents decide to tromp along the streets of Ptown and see what all this fuss is about… It wasn’t long before the ‘rents discovered a bunch of starving artists and the wonderful world of extremely beautiful and very affordable artwork… Galleries galore, street performers, weird shops, restaurants, we ended up having the best time a straight family could possibly have… Heading back to our rented holiday abode, my parents made a pledge that they will visit Ptown every year to purchase their paintings, dine at the most delicious restaurants, and be around the insanity and the fun…
Soon after that, every summer we made our way to Boston, my parents would rent a car just to drive 3 hours each way to Provincetown to enjoy their little gay gem in the western hemisphere… We went on whale watches, learned about the pirates, my mother would buy bags and bags of saltwater taffy, walks on the beaches, taking in the quaintness of it all, strolls on their narrow streets, taking pictures of the beautiful cottages, visiting the different monuments… everything… I’m not saying we didn’t see some weird shit, because every single member of my family can tell you of something totally weird they saw in that little town – but it was all about the experience, not about infringing on someone’s personal space or freedom… We all built a lasting relationship with that town, and it really helped us with accepting people for who they are… My parents were so in love with Ptown, that they actually started inviting their friends from Bahrain who were visiting in the area… (Having had a couple of their kids study in Massachusetts, my parents have become seasoned New Englanders, they know where to take you for this and that, shopping, sight seeing, good Vermont Cheddar, everything)… The mistake they made is sometimes insisting on bringing their friends (and sometimes, less open minded friends) with them to Ptown… I don’t have to tell you that it wasn’t that enjoyable…
We weren’t the only people to fall in love with Ptown… Apart from the fact that some of the greatest artists in the 20th century used to hang out there, Khalil Gibran used to party there during the 50s, Al Jafee (a cartoonist from mad magazine) lived there, and so many more that I can’t seem to recollect right now… The year round residents may have totaled a couple of thousand, but during the summer, that town had over 50 thousand residents. This was the Gay capital of the East coast: you had some of the most successful and talented people living in this one little town in the summer… Artists, musicians, chefs, Thespians (got ya), so many people living there every summer… Think about it, the best clothes you wear, the most interesting food you eat, the artwork you admire: the people that made that possible for you to experience have their own little getaway… Now imagine visiting that cultural center. Now imagine that cultural center is a beach town…
The other side to Ptown that I didn’t know if I liked or not was the looks you sometimes got from the gay community… It was like, “Hey you straight asshole, you’ve got the entire world to go stomping around, can’t we have our own space?” My reply to that was, “Fuck you Nancy, I’ve had a relationship with this town too. I’ve seen stores open and shut down over the years, I’ve swam in these waters, I’ve taken pictures and enjoyed these streets, I’ve done your afternoon tea parties that go on till dawn… we’ve made friends with residents only to find out they’ve died of AIDS the following year when we’ve come to visit. You sit here and don’t want discrimination, but now that the tables are turned you have to discriminate?” Sometimes I don’t blame some of them for feeling that way, but that’s not going to stop me from enjoying that place...
For those of you comfortable with your sexuality and are not fazed out by people doing whatever they want to do, I highly recommend Ptown… it’s a wonderful little summer town, with a great vibe rivaling some of the best cities on this planet…
Monday, June 20, 2005
New Bracelet: “You’re an Idiot”
Ok so Lance “I’ve seen Sheryl Crow nekid” Armstrong, decides to start off this new fad with these yellow plastic bracelets… Inscribed on the bracelet, as you already know is “LIVESTRONG”…. See Lance had testicular cancer and beat it (punning), so he forms this foundation to support survivors of testicular cancer… He wore the bracelet when he won the Tour De France, and pretty soon everyone started wearing them.. For USD 1, you too could own a yellow, fashionable article and still show people that, “Hey guys, I’m sympathetic towards testicular cancer survivors… and I’m cool like Lance.”
So what happens next? The world is awash in yellow bracelets: Athletes, Actors, businessmen, students, soccer moms, doctors, everyone was wearing this yellow bracelet… At first the bracelet carried a lot of meaning, it symbolized beating a horrible disease, it meant pushing yourself like lance did to win another Tour De France and break a world record… Pretty soon, everyone and their mother is wearing live strong bracelets, they even began floating around the profiteering market for USD 9 instead of USD 1…
It was not long before some other group gets the idea of getting pink bracelets for breast cancer, and then blue ones for some other disease, then black and white to stamp out racism, and then green for the rainforest, and then just plain white to end poverty, and then magenta for men who like pink, and then brown color to support diarrhea (IBS) sufferers … This bracelet phenomenon has just taken the planet by storm – a very tacky and unoriginal storm…
Walking around, you’ll see a bunch of people wearing these stupid bracelets… support, donate do whatever you want to do: I’ll commend that, but to walk around like you even care about supporting this cause? Please… We can spot you for the fake poser that you really are… This is not fashion, this is a fad, a very very overdone fad.. it’s served it’s useful life… Friends exchange them with other friends, people who can’t find the real plastic buy the fake ones.. The current thing is that you release these little plastic bands for any occasion.. Liverpool in Istanbul for the Champions League Final (sorry rf) - they need to release a bracelet. Lebanon and their new democracy – lets release some bracelets. Mike Tyson retired, lets release a bracelet to commemorate and charge people. What started off as a good idea to raise money for a worthy cause, has turned into a walking advertisement and a silly bandwagon way to make money… It’s gotten so bad that I actually saw a black bracelet the other day with the “Playa” inscribed on it… Why would anyone want to wear a bracelet like that? If you want to wear something on your hand, why can’t you go find one of those handmade bracelets? At least those weren’t made out of a mold…
It started off with you laughing at people unaware of the cause they were supporting with their bracelet – so then you’d have to criticize and ask “you bought this bracelet, but you don’t even know that you’ve contributed to support testicular cancer? What kind of a moron are you?” Then the moron wises up and then can state “umm yeah, it supports testicular cancer survivors – Lance Armstrong and shit.. Livestrong.”
Teenyboppers and their fascination with overdoing it to the extreme… now it’s cool if you show off all your bracelets.. so people are sporting around 3-5 different colored bracelets.. Now I’ll give you props over this whole bracelet issue if you were supporting Gay rights and the different colored bracelets on your arm symbolized the Gay rainbow… Otherwise, whomever came up with the idea of wearing more than one bracelet, should have to wear a t-shirt stating him to be the idiot responsible for this stupid piece of plastic on your hand…
There needs to be some accountability for this stupid fad…
If you do truly support these causes, then good for you… fight the good fight… I’m just poking fun at the people who’ve decided to take a good idea for a good cause and squeeze the profit and reveal it for what it really is: an expiring fad…
So what happens next? The world is awash in yellow bracelets: Athletes, Actors, businessmen, students, soccer moms, doctors, everyone was wearing this yellow bracelet… At first the bracelet carried a lot of meaning, it symbolized beating a horrible disease, it meant pushing yourself like lance did to win another Tour De France and break a world record… Pretty soon, everyone and their mother is wearing live strong bracelets, they even began floating around the profiteering market for USD 9 instead of USD 1…
It was not long before some other group gets the idea of getting pink bracelets for breast cancer, and then blue ones for some other disease, then black and white to stamp out racism, and then green for the rainforest, and then just plain white to end poverty, and then magenta for men who like pink, and then brown color to support diarrhea (IBS) sufferers … This bracelet phenomenon has just taken the planet by storm – a very tacky and unoriginal storm…
Walking around, you’ll see a bunch of people wearing these stupid bracelets… support, donate do whatever you want to do: I’ll commend that, but to walk around like you even care about supporting this cause? Please… We can spot you for the fake poser that you really are… This is not fashion, this is a fad, a very very overdone fad.. it’s served it’s useful life… Friends exchange them with other friends, people who can’t find the real plastic buy the fake ones.. The current thing is that you release these little plastic bands for any occasion.. Liverpool in Istanbul for the Champions League Final (sorry rf) - they need to release a bracelet. Lebanon and their new democracy – lets release some bracelets. Mike Tyson retired, lets release a bracelet to commemorate and charge people. What started off as a good idea to raise money for a worthy cause, has turned into a walking advertisement and a silly bandwagon way to make money… It’s gotten so bad that I actually saw a black bracelet the other day with the “Playa” inscribed on it… Why would anyone want to wear a bracelet like that? If you want to wear something on your hand, why can’t you go find one of those handmade bracelets? At least those weren’t made out of a mold…
It started off with you laughing at people unaware of the cause they were supporting with their bracelet – so then you’d have to criticize and ask “you bought this bracelet, but you don’t even know that you’ve contributed to support testicular cancer? What kind of a moron are you?” Then the moron wises up and then can state “umm yeah, it supports testicular cancer survivors – Lance Armstrong and shit.. Livestrong.”
Teenyboppers and their fascination with overdoing it to the extreme… now it’s cool if you show off all your bracelets.. so people are sporting around 3-5 different colored bracelets.. Now I’ll give you props over this whole bracelet issue if you were supporting Gay rights and the different colored bracelets on your arm symbolized the Gay rainbow… Otherwise, whomever came up with the idea of wearing more than one bracelet, should have to wear a t-shirt stating him to be the idiot responsible for this stupid piece of plastic on your hand…
There needs to be some accountability for this stupid fad…
If you do truly support these causes, then good for you… fight the good fight… I’m just poking fun at the people who’ve decided to take a good idea for a good cause and squeeze the profit and reveal it for what it really is: an expiring fad…
Sunday, June 19, 2005
Jordanian Mansaf (Good Global Eating)
I’ve met a lot of interesting people from all four corners of the globe and one of the subjects that always comes up in conversations is food. Different cultures could have different flavors and different traditions, or maybe they have the same dishes with the same ingredients tweaked ever so slightly to represent different tastes. I’ve been fortunate enough to sample a multitude of ethnic foods, from adventures in gastronomy to global comfort food, but the end result is always the same: a satisfied smile, a full belly and a good nap on the couch… Due to the hospitality of a wonderful Jordanian family, an Army of friends was invited to enjoy an absolutely delicious traditional nomadic dish called: Mansaf…
First allow me to explain the dish to you: Mansaf is a traditional dish comprised of three main ingredients: lamb, rice, and goat’s milk “Jameed El-Kasih”. The dish is normally eaten during the wintertime because it’s so heavy and filling, but that wasn’t going to stop me from enjoying this experience. Picture a huge round serving tray lined with Sh’rak bread (a thin Arabic bread).. On top of that bread, a mountain of whey-drenched rice is assembled only to be outshined by tender chunks of cooked lamb ready to fall off the bone, and generously topped off with toasted almonds- leaving you with a pyramid of food to devour. To the side of that dish, is the clincher for the entire meal: the goat’s milk or Jameed… Jameed is goat’s milk/ yogurt that is used to cook the lamb and then poured into a bowl to be served with the dish separately. I know what some of you are thinking,, Goat’s milk? The sauce is what’s used to cook the meat, it’s what you ladle on top of your plate, without it, you might not as well try the dish… (my own personal note: I think Jameed has Tryptophan in it: the amino acid found in turkey meat and laban (buttermilk) that makes people go to sleep)…
Mansaf day preparation (before): Thank god I had the day off, because there is no way I could have gone back to work after a meal like Mansaf. My internal weekend alarm clock woke me up just in time to take a shower and get ready… I stretched, limbered up, wore something comfortable and made my way to the meal…
My hunger and I arrived at the lunch ready, as had everybody else… people were making jokes about how they hadn’t eaten in days, others were asking questions about the dish, while the rest just patiently waited till we were all ushered into the dining room…
The dining room had a number of tables spread about with each table adorning a Huge tray of Mansaf… The women, with their delicate eating habits were provided with their own table to be spared the Neanderthal eating behavior of the men… Scanning the room for the perfectly situated table, I made my way to the table with no chairs where two Jordanian cohorts quickly briefed me on the traditional rules to enjoying the dish: Mansaf is to be eaten standing up, no plates: everyone eats from the same serving dish, and no cutlery except your hands “Bil Khams”. Not to pass up on the experience, I took my spot as we drew up our imaginary borders on the tray, everyone establishing where “his” section was going to be… And there we had it, 3 Jordanians, 3 Bahrainis and a Chinese Egyptian (I know, I know, it’s a long story) ready for their meal…
AND THEY’RE OFF!! The Sauce was ladled over people’s sections on the tray, sleeves were rolled up, a bowl of sliced onions in vinegar, and off we were… tearing off chunks of lamb with your fingers, scooping up some rice soaked in the Jameed and shoveling it all into your mouth to be surprised by how the simplicity of ingredients enhances the delectable flavors in your mouth… wow, wow wow… Some people spooned ladles of sauce on the rice, some gave up and picked up cutlery, some had to sit down… But we persevered… more lamb was torn off its bone, more rice was shoveled and then someone struck gold: the bread at the bottom… Soaking up the flavor of the rice and meat and getting soggy from the Jameed, the bread at the bottom of the tray was a hidden surprise to us all… Two cups were placed at our table, and one of the Jordanians on the table ladled some Jameed sauce into the cup and took a sip… A cultural tradition that I passed on, due to the diminishing space in my belly… I was focused on the tender meat that melted in my mouth… the rice and sauce that got my fingers all messy… the incredible feeling of satisfaction with every single bite – national foods carry a lot of history to them… You immediately understood the history of Mansaf, a nomadic dish: very delicious, very filling, very simple, and very nutritious.
One by one, people began to leave their seats/ eating areas… It looked like packs of Hyenas ravaged the trays.. Everyone walked out of the dining room with a satisfied drowsy look… the couch looked so inviting, but we were too many people eyeing up too little couches. I understood why the dish is mainly served during the cooler seasons, the food just rested in you stomach… Someone turned to me and mentioned cement… if cement tasted this good, then I’ll have to build my house on a full stomach. The only way I could properly describe this feeling is that Thanksgiving turkey day stuffed feeling (Hence the Tryptophan reference).. You’re content, full, drowsy, slaphappy, yet unable to move: the only thing on your mind is a nap and how good that would be… It wasn’t just me, everyone around me had that content “a nap would suit me just fine right now” look… I’m telling you, Mansaf will induce sleep into the most defiant of insomniacs; it should be registered in the journal of medicine as a possible cure…
Once our immediate resting period ended, and we smoked our after meal cigarettes, our hosts continued to spoil us with rounds of tea, coffee, and dessert – until we really had to say “please stop.” And there I was, propping myself up on the couch, trying to adjust my crooked satisfied smile and make conversation with people sharing the same look as me… I felt bad for the rest who had to go to back work after lunch, because for the rest of us with our day off – we could quietly head back home and do nothing for the rest of the day.
We thanked our hosts for a wonderful lunch and matching hospitality, and we all went our separate ways to a comfortable seat in front of the tv, a bed, a couch, maybe even the floor with a couple of blankets… Them Jordanians really know how to cook their food… I can only hope that you’ll be fortunate enough to try this delicacy, because this is an experience you cannot miss… well, unless you’re a vegetarian…
First allow me to explain the dish to you: Mansaf is a traditional dish comprised of three main ingredients: lamb, rice, and goat’s milk “Jameed El-Kasih”. The dish is normally eaten during the wintertime because it’s so heavy and filling, but that wasn’t going to stop me from enjoying this experience. Picture a huge round serving tray lined with Sh’rak bread (a thin Arabic bread).. On top of that bread, a mountain of whey-drenched rice is assembled only to be outshined by tender chunks of cooked lamb ready to fall off the bone, and generously topped off with toasted almonds- leaving you with a pyramid of food to devour. To the side of that dish, is the clincher for the entire meal: the goat’s milk or Jameed… Jameed is goat’s milk/ yogurt that is used to cook the lamb and then poured into a bowl to be served with the dish separately. I know what some of you are thinking,, Goat’s milk? The sauce is what’s used to cook the meat, it’s what you ladle on top of your plate, without it, you might not as well try the dish… (my own personal note: I think Jameed has Tryptophan in it: the amino acid found in turkey meat and laban (buttermilk) that makes people go to sleep)…
Mansaf day preparation (before): Thank god I had the day off, because there is no way I could have gone back to work after a meal like Mansaf. My internal weekend alarm clock woke me up just in time to take a shower and get ready… I stretched, limbered up, wore something comfortable and made my way to the meal…
My hunger and I arrived at the lunch ready, as had everybody else… people were making jokes about how they hadn’t eaten in days, others were asking questions about the dish, while the rest just patiently waited till we were all ushered into the dining room…
The dining room had a number of tables spread about with each table adorning a Huge tray of Mansaf… The women, with their delicate eating habits were provided with their own table to be spared the Neanderthal eating behavior of the men… Scanning the room for the perfectly situated table, I made my way to the table with no chairs where two Jordanian cohorts quickly briefed me on the traditional rules to enjoying the dish: Mansaf is to be eaten standing up, no plates: everyone eats from the same serving dish, and no cutlery except your hands “Bil Khams”. Not to pass up on the experience, I took my spot as we drew up our imaginary borders on the tray, everyone establishing where “his” section was going to be… And there we had it, 3 Jordanians, 3 Bahrainis and a Chinese Egyptian (I know, I know, it’s a long story) ready for their meal…
AND THEY’RE OFF!! The Sauce was ladled over people’s sections on the tray, sleeves were rolled up, a bowl of sliced onions in vinegar, and off we were… tearing off chunks of lamb with your fingers, scooping up some rice soaked in the Jameed and shoveling it all into your mouth to be surprised by how the simplicity of ingredients enhances the delectable flavors in your mouth… wow, wow wow… Some people spooned ladles of sauce on the rice, some gave up and picked up cutlery, some had to sit down… But we persevered… more lamb was torn off its bone, more rice was shoveled and then someone struck gold: the bread at the bottom… Soaking up the flavor of the rice and meat and getting soggy from the Jameed, the bread at the bottom of the tray was a hidden surprise to us all… Two cups were placed at our table, and one of the Jordanians on the table ladled some Jameed sauce into the cup and took a sip… A cultural tradition that I passed on, due to the diminishing space in my belly… I was focused on the tender meat that melted in my mouth… the rice and sauce that got my fingers all messy… the incredible feeling of satisfaction with every single bite – national foods carry a lot of history to them… You immediately understood the history of Mansaf, a nomadic dish: very delicious, very filling, very simple, and very nutritious.
One by one, people began to leave their seats/ eating areas… It looked like packs of Hyenas ravaged the trays.. Everyone walked out of the dining room with a satisfied drowsy look… the couch looked so inviting, but we were too many people eyeing up too little couches. I understood why the dish is mainly served during the cooler seasons, the food just rested in you stomach… Someone turned to me and mentioned cement… if cement tasted this good, then I’ll have to build my house on a full stomach. The only way I could properly describe this feeling is that Thanksgiving turkey day stuffed feeling (Hence the Tryptophan reference).. You’re content, full, drowsy, slaphappy, yet unable to move: the only thing on your mind is a nap and how good that would be… It wasn’t just me, everyone around me had that content “a nap would suit me just fine right now” look… I’m telling you, Mansaf will induce sleep into the most defiant of insomniacs; it should be registered in the journal of medicine as a possible cure…
Once our immediate resting period ended, and we smoked our after meal cigarettes, our hosts continued to spoil us with rounds of tea, coffee, and dessert – until we really had to say “please stop.” And there I was, propping myself up on the couch, trying to adjust my crooked satisfied smile and make conversation with people sharing the same look as me… I felt bad for the rest who had to go to back work after lunch, because for the rest of us with our day off – we could quietly head back home and do nothing for the rest of the day.
We thanked our hosts for a wonderful lunch and matching hospitality, and we all went our separate ways to a comfortable seat in front of the tv, a bed, a couch, maybe even the floor with a couple of blankets… Them Jordanians really know how to cook their food… I can only hope that you’ll be fortunate enough to try this delicacy, because this is an experience you cannot miss… well, unless you’re a vegetarian…
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Things that drive me nuts… Part umpteen…
The smell of feet in the sugar tin at the kitchenette at my office (some of the “not bothered by hygiene” employees like to use the same wet spoon to mix their creamer and then add their sugar to their tea or coffee – leaving a rotting cheesy foot scent - full scale toe jam) – thanks to my shifty fingers at Corporate coffee house, I’ve managed to replenish my personal sugar stockpile. The fact that Jan burger only opens at 8PM. The fact that Jan Burger have inconveniently located themselves in impossible to get to locations. Turning around in at my desk on a beautiful day to enjoy my sea view and seeing someone jet skiing or enjoying the sea – bastards, the lot of ya. The afternoon sun that goes right through my window and hits my screen blinding me, and then me having to explain why I’m wearing sunglasses at 5pm… The fact that now’s not the time to eat prawns in Bahrain cause you can get food poisoning and no one reminded me – my poor exit points… The fact that shops will have “incredible sales” yet still charge you 20 dinars for a pair of converse sneakers on sale – when they paid less than 128 UAE dirhams for them (that’s about 12.8 dinars – you should’ve taken the reduced sale price sticker off the sneaker you dumbasses- Yeah we all know who you are- stop ripping people off). The fact that I’ve discovered a cache of ultra-hip t-shirts online that wont accept a Bahraini credit card or shipping to Bahrain – COME ON STEVE- RECONSIDER… That Mohammed Salmeen has consistently let me down – I thought you had heart, every time you play, we disappoint… The damn ticking noise in the car… I’ve been continually lied to for the past year and a half and this came from someone I loved… Tabriz grills in Jidhaffs has the best grilled lamb chops and I’ve yet to try them… I have no summer plans… The fact that Chelsea FC have managed to flex their muscles all over the footballing world and the English FA have done nothing about it – yeah you pussies – up yours! The fact that I cannot find a decent pizza in Bahrain. The fact that I just lost 5 years worth of financial information cause I didn’t save – DAMN YOU TECHNOLOGY!!!… So many things – I can go on for hours….
Saturday, May 21, 2005
bumper steeekers
One of the other fads in Bahrain that I've totally missed out on is the bumber sticker craze... Ok let me rephrase, it's not just bumper stickers, they're stickers all over a car, on the rear windsheild, side of the car, front of the car... you get the drift...
Driving around you see these minibuses: small white Japanese minibus with curtains on the back side windows, something dangling from the rearview mirror... the dude drives a bus that he rents out to drive people around, so he's got this huge advertisment consisting of his number and his name... I don't find this weird, I just love reading the names: Bu Hashim, el Jasmi, Sayed mahmood... I just like reading the name cause then you immediately assume it's el Jasmi driving the bus and you just want to honk your horn and say hello.
Riceboys... If i am getting this term right, it is a poke towards people who take their Japanese cars and fix them up to look "riced out"... Anyways, stuck in traffic again you might come across a ricemobile... something really slick, a honda taken to the max, real low, dynamite rims, a scary kit - or you might come across a wannabe rice... I'm talking about the poser in his sunny or corolla, with nothing done to the car, except a multitude of racing stickers plastered all over the car... I'm mean honestly brah, why would you even have a NOS sticker on your car if you don't have it,, what's the point?
My favorite stickers are the ones on celebrity characters... Che, bob, and the hero of my childhood cartoon adnan wa leena (future boy conan), absee... I would love to know where they sell those stickers.. I get so flustered when I see someone showing off Che's image - do you even know what the man believed in? boludo... Sometimes I wonder, if he were alive, how would he feel that someone was making money off his face on t-shirts, posters and stickers...
People go to the extent of naming their cars... I really appreciate the bahraini's love with his motor vehicle.. The guy just falls in love with his mode of transportation that he gives it a name... some of the names are just hillarious.. There's el anood, azzizah, el khateer, el ajeeb, Fallllaah, nite ryder, etc. Just great humor, you can't deny it...
This has nothing to do with bumper stickers but it's also worth mentioning... commercial establishments sometimes advertise on their cars. Some companies dont bother with making sure the advertisement is edited. There was this maintenance company that serviced fridges and gas terminals? (I'm just recounting what was on the back of the truck).. the advert said "FRIGEN GAS" - It was just too funny thinking frigging gas...
This one takes the cake for me... More religiously fervent people feel that they need to make a public statement by thanking god... Being with the new century you can buy these stickers that thank God in Arabic and in English.. The Arabic phrase for it is Al hamdulilah - thanks be to God. The graphic in arabic is stretched out enough to make space for the english translation : Thank Godness... I honestly don't know if it's grammatically correct or not, I've never really heard the phrase before, but I'm not here to discount it. You know when you read something that isn't normally in your vocabulary.. Thank Godness or Goodness? I've never heard of Godness, what do they mean?
I love getting amused on the road.. A little humor can go a long way, and when el Jasmi drives by, give him a hello honk on your horn, he'll honk back and you'll have a laugh.. totally worth it - trust me..
Driving around you see these minibuses: small white Japanese minibus with curtains on the back side windows, something dangling from the rearview mirror... the dude drives a bus that he rents out to drive people around, so he's got this huge advertisment consisting of his number and his name... I don't find this weird, I just love reading the names: Bu Hashim, el Jasmi, Sayed mahmood... I just like reading the name cause then you immediately assume it's el Jasmi driving the bus and you just want to honk your horn and say hello.
Riceboys... If i am getting this term right, it is a poke towards people who take their Japanese cars and fix them up to look "riced out"... Anyways, stuck in traffic again you might come across a ricemobile... something really slick, a honda taken to the max, real low, dynamite rims, a scary kit - or you might come across a wannabe rice... I'm talking about the poser in his sunny or corolla, with nothing done to the car, except a multitude of racing stickers plastered all over the car... I'm mean honestly brah, why would you even have a NOS sticker on your car if you don't have it,, what's the point?
My favorite stickers are the ones on celebrity characters... Che, bob, and the hero of my childhood cartoon adnan wa leena (future boy conan), absee... I would love to know where they sell those stickers.. I get so flustered when I see someone showing off Che's image - do you even know what the man believed in? boludo... Sometimes I wonder, if he were alive, how would he feel that someone was making money off his face on t-shirts, posters and stickers...
People go to the extent of naming their cars... I really appreciate the bahraini's love with his motor vehicle.. The guy just falls in love with his mode of transportation that he gives it a name... some of the names are just hillarious.. There's el anood, azzizah, el khateer, el ajeeb, Fallllaah, nite ryder, etc. Just great humor, you can't deny it...
This has nothing to do with bumper stickers but it's also worth mentioning... commercial establishments sometimes advertise on their cars. Some companies dont bother with making sure the advertisement is edited. There was this maintenance company that serviced fridges and gas terminals? (I'm just recounting what was on the back of the truck).. the advert said "FRIGEN GAS" - It was just too funny thinking frigging gas...
This one takes the cake for me... More religiously fervent people feel that they need to make a public statement by thanking god... Being with the new century you can buy these stickers that thank God in Arabic and in English.. The Arabic phrase for it is Al hamdulilah - thanks be to God. The graphic in arabic is stretched out enough to make space for the english translation : Thank Godness... I honestly don't know if it's grammatically correct or not, I've never really heard the phrase before, but I'm not here to discount it. You know when you read something that isn't normally in your vocabulary.. Thank Godness or Goodness? I've never heard of Godness, what do they mean?
I love getting amused on the road.. A little humor can go a long way, and when el Jasmi drives by, give him a hello honk on your horn, he'll honk back and you'll have a laugh.. totally worth it - trust me..
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Honeymoon Hiatus
dear reader: May 2005 has been a fucking killer...
First I get attacked by a gang of killer manatees.. don't worry everything's fine, they just wanted my wallet and my costa coffee drink coupon... bastards, I was one drink away from a free coffee as well..
Then my superiors misread the sign on my head that says "overworked underpaid employee thinking about going postal" for "Sadomasochist - who enjoys being defecated on" - a common misconception... Anyways, after being flogged with reports, ratios and numbers, I've decided to return to tell you that I shall be back with some more stupid nonsensical ramblings sometime soon. Stay Tuned..
Finally, I have a confession to make, I've been sleeping around with another blog.. her name is www.qadam.blogspot.com, she's a gemini, and I think I'm in love. Qadam is blog for football fans by football fanatics - a place to discuss anything and everything relating to the world of football... We're trying to get different fans from all over the world to contribute their views on footie (random mo, shoot me an email when you get a chance if you're interested).. Anyways, check out the blog if you like, we've just started and are hoping to provide fans with some interesting conspiracy theories, analysis, and just some good old biased team talk...
so that's all I really have to say...
ciao for now
First I get attacked by a gang of killer manatees.. don't worry everything's fine, they just wanted my wallet and my costa coffee drink coupon... bastards, I was one drink away from a free coffee as well..
Then my superiors misread the sign on my head that says "overworked underpaid employee thinking about going postal" for "Sadomasochist - who enjoys being defecated on" - a common misconception... Anyways, after being flogged with reports, ratios and numbers, I've decided to return to tell you that I shall be back with some more stupid nonsensical ramblings sometime soon. Stay Tuned..
Finally, I have a confession to make, I've been sleeping around with another blog.. her name is www.qadam.blogspot.com, she's a gemini, and I think I'm in love. Qadam is blog for football fans by football fanatics - a place to discuss anything and everything relating to the world of football... We're trying to get different fans from all over the world to contribute their views on footie (random mo, shoot me an email when you get a chance if you're interested).. Anyways, check out the blog if you like, we've just started and are hoping to provide fans with some interesting conspiracy theories, analysis, and just some good old biased team talk...
so that's all I really have to say...
ciao for now
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
a 20something something
Maybe you’ve already passed this moment, maybe it hasn’t hit you yet… but the 20something somethings can be a difficult moment in anyone’s life.. You’ve graduated college and then it hits you.. What the hell am I supposed to do now? For the past 3-4 years you nestled yourself in the safe arms of your university taking your required courses and your rinky dink classes (don’t you miss your rinky dink classes? Finger painting, the history of cheese, resurrection of dead languages, etc.)… Then you graduate, and then start thinking “fuck… what now? Job? No job?” Your friends, the ones who properly planned for life after college already had their jobs lined from their internships or their interviewing and lets face the facts taking all those finance related courses really paid off, should’ve listened to them instead of groofin wif dem Rastafarians… So then you do whatever every other unemployed person with no idea of what kind of career they want does, you start going to interviews, trying to sell yourself to recruiters at random companies. You’re trying to do whatever you can, checking out sales positions, applying for desk jobs, internet, job postings, anything. Then there’s the unattainable job that you spot, the one that requires all those years of experience but will have you traveling all round the world and pays out the right salary to afford that sports car you’ve always wanted – so you do it, send your resume and cover letter hoping that there’s a glimmer of a chance that the HR person is inebriated and they call you immediately for an interview. But you’re not getting any attention cause you’re an entry level punching bag, and the best you can hope for is a entry level punching bag position… They look you over and over, you have no bargaining power over them, you bring nothing to the table, except a fine understanding of finger painting - they give you one look and tell you welcome aboard…
And there you go, from recent grad, to entry level tea boy (some of the best producers in the music industry started off making tea in the studio)… making copies, trying to learn, hoping to be a good enough gopher that someone will notice your effort.. Ohh and believe me they will notice your effort.. they notice your work so much that they begin dumping everything on you, freeing up their schedule up for golf… But that’s just your work life.. You’ve got something in the bank and you can blow it off anyway you want… It’s a job, and this is what you could expect from your first job, getting bitch slapped like you’re name is Chantilly Sugar – deal with it… So you learn, you listen, you pick everything up and use it to your advantage; now you’ve got something to offer and it will help you in your next job.. or you can be your own personal hero and bust out of that job you hate like a true outlaw. I am a firm believer in the notion that you should have at least one fiery resignation in your lifetime – telling that asshole boss off. Don’t lose it like Jerry Maguire, but something that will leave a lasting effect in their minds including yours – cause for that one moment you didn’t give a shit about money or your future, you put your needs in the forefront and that’s what really builds character…
Ok so you’ve sorted out your professional life, now what? Your personal life, needs a new direction – cartoon network and cereal isn’t going to cut it anymore… You get your friends who immediately start thinking about settling down, new job – new life, might as well change it all and get married… So people hurriedly get themselves tangled in the blissful web of matrimony, and you start sweating… it starts off early or it could’ve just started, but a friend of yours gets married, and pretty soon people start giving you the winks and nudges… you look away at first, but more and more people you know start getting married and you think “should I be considering this?” maybe you should, it’s your life, I’m just telling you of the pressures you could possibly face… Whatever you decide, make sure it’s your decision... It’s ok to fall in love and make a mistake, but don’t do it cause you’re forced into it or cause you’re bored with your life… So love conquers all, or you’re sitting there just focusing on the other aspects of your life… Another aspect of married life is children… you know you’re growing up when you have a bbq with your friends and a little toddler shows up.. Your friends have kids or they’re expecting,,, should you sweat a little more? I don’t know it’s up to you, but this will be another issue you will tackle… End of the day it’s not your kid, you can play with them until they shit themselves – then you give the little one back to mommy or daddy…
Being a productive member of society also comes with it’s own hitches… You’re now expected to follow a certain path… you can’t run around causing mayhem and havoc like you did just recently… In your previous life, you didn’t know what the term weekend really meant, cause lets face it, everyday was a weekend, you decided whether you were going to wake up today or not, or whether a 72 hour videogame marathon was doable… No no no, your weekends now are sacred, the one chance you have to unwind and let it all go down… no need to shave, bathe, dress nicely.. You can pull a homer and hang out in your underwear all day if you like.. It’s your weekend… Maybe you’ll come to the realization as the years have rolled on by, you’ve started to lose whatever you had in common with your friends.. Maybe you’ll make new friends, maybe you’ll come to realize that the people you have as friends will forever be there and help you when you need it the most…
Changes my friend, this period of time is all about changes and uncertainty… There is no clear path for you, it’s like driving in fog, you’re on the right road, you’re getting there, but you need to stay focused on what’s immediately ahead of you and you can speed up if you like, but that could lead to an accident, or not... Don’t sweat it too much, there’s no need to be this worried, life always works out and if it doesn’t, then you make it work out.. That’s why you have a university degree right?
During this period, you will meet other 20somethings that have done much better than you, and others that are doing much worse than you… the point of this whole experience is to understand that this is life… people will be better than you, make more money, have better jobs, seem like they’re on the accelerated path to success; and people will be much worse off than you wishing they could have your dead end job with no benefits. If you stop to watch other people, then you’re allowing yourself to get left behind… focus on yourself and live your life the way you want to live it – just don’t bug out, the universe is not conspiring to make your life miserable…
And there you go, from recent grad, to entry level tea boy (some of the best producers in the music industry started off making tea in the studio)… making copies, trying to learn, hoping to be a good enough gopher that someone will notice your effort.. Ohh and believe me they will notice your effort.. they notice your work so much that they begin dumping everything on you, freeing up their schedule up for golf… But that’s just your work life.. You’ve got something in the bank and you can blow it off anyway you want… It’s a job, and this is what you could expect from your first job, getting bitch slapped like you’re name is Chantilly Sugar – deal with it… So you learn, you listen, you pick everything up and use it to your advantage; now you’ve got something to offer and it will help you in your next job.. or you can be your own personal hero and bust out of that job you hate like a true outlaw. I am a firm believer in the notion that you should have at least one fiery resignation in your lifetime – telling that asshole boss off. Don’t lose it like Jerry Maguire, but something that will leave a lasting effect in their minds including yours – cause for that one moment you didn’t give a shit about money or your future, you put your needs in the forefront and that’s what really builds character…
Ok so you’ve sorted out your professional life, now what? Your personal life, needs a new direction – cartoon network and cereal isn’t going to cut it anymore… You get your friends who immediately start thinking about settling down, new job – new life, might as well change it all and get married… So people hurriedly get themselves tangled in the blissful web of matrimony, and you start sweating… it starts off early or it could’ve just started, but a friend of yours gets married, and pretty soon people start giving you the winks and nudges… you look away at first, but more and more people you know start getting married and you think “should I be considering this?” maybe you should, it’s your life, I’m just telling you of the pressures you could possibly face… Whatever you decide, make sure it’s your decision... It’s ok to fall in love and make a mistake, but don’t do it cause you’re forced into it or cause you’re bored with your life… So love conquers all, or you’re sitting there just focusing on the other aspects of your life… Another aspect of married life is children… you know you’re growing up when you have a bbq with your friends and a little toddler shows up.. Your friends have kids or they’re expecting,,, should you sweat a little more? I don’t know it’s up to you, but this will be another issue you will tackle… End of the day it’s not your kid, you can play with them until they shit themselves – then you give the little one back to mommy or daddy…
Being a productive member of society also comes with it’s own hitches… You’re now expected to follow a certain path… you can’t run around causing mayhem and havoc like you did just recently… In your previous life, you didn’t know what the term weekend really meant, cause lets face it, everyday was a weekend, you decided whether you were going to wake up today or not, or whether a 72 hour videogame marathon was doable… No no no, your weekends now are sacred, the one chance you have to unwind and let it all go down… no need to shave, bathe, dress nicely.. You can pull a homer and hang out in your underwear all day if you like.. It’s your weekend… Maybe you’ll come to the realization as the years have rolled on by, you’ve started to lose whatever you had in common with your friends.. Maybe you’ll make new friends, maybe you’ll come to realize that the people you have as friends will forever be there and help you when you need it the most…
Changes my friend, this period of time is all about changes and uncertainty… There is no clear path for you, it’s like driving in fog, you’re on the right road, you’re getting there, but you need to stay focused on what’s immediately ahead of you and you can speed up if you like, but that could lead to an accident, or not... Don’t sweat it too much, there’s no need to be this worried, life always works out and if it doesn’t, then you make it work out.. That’s why you have a university degree right?
During this period, you will meet other 20somethings that have done much better than you, and others that are doing much worse than you… the point of this whole experience is to understand that this is life… people will be better than you, make more money, have better jobs, seem like they’re on the accelerated path to success; and people will be much worse off than you wishing they could have your dead end job with no benefits. If you stop to watch other people, then you’re allowing yourself to get left behind… focus on yourself and live your life the way you want to live it – just don’t bug out, the universe is not conspiring to make your life miserable…
Thursday, April 07, 2005
OCD.. OCD.. OCD.. OCD.. OCD..
Everyone has them; I’ve got a few. They don’t really take over my life, but they are more like little quirks in my life… I checked out the obsessive-compulsive disorder foundation and got this from their site, ” In OCD, it is as though the brain gets stuck on a particular thought or urge and just can't let go. People with OCD often say the symptoms feel like a case of mental hiccups that won't go away. OCD is a medical brain disorder that causes problems in information processing. It is not your fault or the result of a "weak" or unstable personality.” The website states that an OCD can range from a little background noise to something taking over your life… I just thought I’d dissect the few common ones that I’ve noticed in myself and the people around me… Now I wont go so far as to calling them obsessive compulsive because they don’t slow me down and occupy my time, but they are the little quirks that really make me the neurotic person that I am… I’m not a doctor and if you’re a doctor or studying to be one forgive me because I’m going to call them OCDs (just like the way it sounds)…
The biggest OCD I have is locking things and double-checking if I’ve locked them… This usually happens with my car, apartment, etc… I’d drive to where I’m supposed to be… get out of the car, lock it (doesn’t matter if it’s by remote or actually locking the car through the door) and then walk off to wherever I’m going… about 10 seconds into the walk, I’d stop and then ask myself (did I just lock the car?), then I’d frantically run back, lock it twice (y’know, to make certain no one can get in) and then go back to what I’m doing… Sometimes I’d get as far as three city blocks before I start doubting myself, then I try to calm myself, and then I’d doubt myself again until I’d run back to the car… Friends that actually know this silly habit of mine, do their best to remember if I’ve locked or not (even if they reassure me, I have a way of making them doubt themselves, and then there I am, running back to the car). I need to lock the car and make sure it’s locked… I like to hear the locking confirmation sound when you press that button on your key.. beep beep.. yep it’s locked.. waitaminute… beep beep.. ok now I know it’s locked… waitaminute.. beep beep… aaahhh… one more time?
Other people have other OCDs… There’s the placement issue, in which everything needs to be organized… if you’re having dinner and you separate the salt and peppershakers from each other, my friend gets annoyed and has to bring them back together… I’d move the shakers away from each other, and you can see her notice them… she then waits a bit, tries to not let it bother her and then while you’re not looking, finally loses it and moves them back together… I like to run these little experiments on my friends, it makes waiting for your lunch so much more enjoyable…
I have another friend who needs to have the remote controls to his TV, Stereo, DVD, and whatever else all lined up side by side all facing the TV at all times, and they have to be in descending order in terms of size of the remote control… if he notices the remotes apart from each other, he will move them around… Imagine playing winning 11, bitch slapping Classic Argentina with your Classic Holland team, and the guy has to pause the game in the middle of an attack to line up the remote controls on his coffee table… DOH-NUT!
Another thing I do is hang-ups over washing my hands. I need to keep my hands clean throughout the day… My girl (who has many many mental hiccups - kidding) also has a washing OCD… she actually has a method in which she washes her hands and follows a routine. She only washes her hands that specific way and does not like smelling anything other than soap on her hands… me I just like to make sure they’re clean and I don’t trust anything except soap.. It’s not so much as washing my hands, but I just need to see soap there attempting to kick bacteria’s ass…
Airports are another place where people do this self-doubting thing as well… People will check their backpack 20 times to make sure the ticket; passport and travel documents are all safe and present… I mean you just checked 2 minutes ago, why do you need to check again…
How about people that need to lay on the side of the bed closest to the door to feel safe and have a good nights sleep… me I don’t care, I can sleep anywhere on the bed as long as it’s on the bed.. But there are people that need to sleep closest to the door, y’know in case of a fire or something like that, the flip side to this thought is that what if a mass murderer walked into the room, you’d be the first one he/she sees, now do you feel safe about sleeping closest to the door?
So these are some of the OCDs that I’ve dug up… I know there are more around, and many people have them, it’s totally natural… you should not be ashamed of the fact that you’re a neurotic person with a thing for spraying the entire bathroom with bleach before you take a bath. Expose your quirks to the world, let us laugh and ridicule at your expense, give me something to read…
The biggest OCD I have is locking things and double-checking if I’ve locked them… This usually happens with my car, apartment, etc… I’d drive to where I’m supposed to be… get out of the car, lock it (doesn’t matter if it’s by remote or actually locking the car through the door) and then walk off to wherever I’m going… about 10 seconds into the walk, I’d stop and then ask myself (did I just lock the car?), then I’d frantically run back, lock it twice (y’know, to make certain no one can get in) and then go back to what I’m doing… Sometimes I’d get as far as three city blocks before I start doubting myself, then I try to calm myself, and then I’d doubt myself again until I’d run back to the car… Friends that actually know this silly habit of mine, do their best to remember if I’ve locked or not (even if they reassure me, I have a way of making them doubt themselves, and then there I am, running back to the car). I need to lock the car and make sure it’s locked… I like to hear the locking confirmation sound when you press that button on your key.. beep beep.. yep it’s locked.. waitaminute… beep beep.. ok now I know it’s locked… waitaminute.. beep beep… aaahhh… one more time?
Other people have other OCDs… There’s the placement issue, in which everything needs to be organized… if you’re having dinner and you separate the salt and peppershakers from each other, my friend gets annoyed and has to bring them back together… I’d move the shakers away from each other, and you can see her notice them… she then waits a bit, tries to not let it bother her and then while you’re not looking, finally loses it and moves them back together… I like to run these little experiments on my friends, it makes waiting for your lunch so much more enjoyable…
I have another friend who needs to have the remote controls to his TV, Stereo, DVD, and whatever else all lined up side by side all facing the TV at all times, and they have to be in descending order in terms of size of the remote control… if he notices the remotes apart from each other, he will move them around… Imagine playing winning 11, bitch slapping Classic Argentina with your Classic Holland team, and the guy has to pause the game in the middle of an attack to line up the remote controls on his coffee table… DOH-NUT!
Another thing I do is hang-ups over washing my hands. I need to keep my hands clean throughout the day… My girl (who has many many mental hiccups - kidding) also has a washing OCD… she actually has a method in which she washes her hands and follows a routine. She only washes her hands that specific way and does not like smelling anything other than soap on her hands… me I just like to make sure they’re clean and I don’t trust anything except soap.. It’s not so much as washing my hands, but I just need to see soap there attempting to kick bacteria’s ass…
Airports are another place where people do this self-doubting thing as well… People will check their backpack 20 times to make sure the ticket; passport and travel documents are all safe and present… I mean you just checked 2 minutes ago, why do you need to check again…
How about people that need to lay on the side of the bed closest to the door to feel safe and have a good nights sleep… me I don’t care, I can sleep anywhere on the bed as long as it’s on the bed.. But there are people that need to sleep closest to the door, y’know in case of a fire or something like that, the flip side to this thought is that what if a mass murderer walked into the room, you’d be the first one he/she sees, now do you feel safe about sleeping closest to the door?
So these are some of the OCDs that I’ve dug up… I know there are more around, and many people have them, it’s totally natural… you should not be ashamed of the fact that you’re a neurotic person with a thing for spraying the entire bathroom with bleach before you take a bath. Expose your quirks to the world, let us laugh and ridicule at your expense, give me something to read…
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
bawston
Here’s what I miss… listening to my pirated digital music while waiting for the bus, T, commuter rail, Fung wah bus. Dennis Dyer and his wonderful liquor store in Watertown. Twin donuts croissant breakfast sandwiches. Walking down mass ave in Central Square and feeling the diversity amongst the MIT students, crack addicts, yuppies and bums. Newbury Street on a pretty day and the witch that roamed the Back Bay. The burbs and the quietness of it all. Walking into a video store and renting any movie that’s out. Saturday hangover lunches at Bottega Fiorentina and their daily specials “Penne Fedora – of course!”. Harvard square and all its nooks and crannies. Leah. Sweating at the door over your fake id. Live music at the Middle East. Being the only Arab at the Field, and drinking de guinessh wit de oirish. Storrow Drive. Complaining about paying a dollar in tolls on the Pike and how they’ve raised the prices. Learning to distinguish the real people from the fake ones, but still loving them all. Trio – only for lulu. Walking from Avalon to Axis to listen to some real music. Reminding Yankees fans that they suck the big one. Live shows at the paradise. Greasy spoons and my artery clogging breakfasts. Getting thanked for holding the door open. The steak at the Franklin café and my desire to be the only straight regular there among all the other south enders. The model café, the world’s greatest dive. The museum of science. Fenway Pahk and the 7th inning stretch. Breaking parking meters with a dime wrapped in paper. The 24hour CVS in Watertown. Taking my time eating my bagel and reading the Sunday paper. Supermarkets and mind boggling wholesale clubs. Sangria, Serrano y mis amigos. Explaining where Bahrain is on the map. Reading the Improper Bostonian for the upcoming events – yes it’s even cooler than timeout. Sunday brunch at the Charles hotel. My quest for the best cheeseburgers in Boston. Wednesday nights at M80 – reserved only for real party animals. Jarritos and steak Quesadillas at Anna’s Taqueria. Waking up at 8AM on a Saturday to watch the English footie. Being the only English footie fan amongst Pats fans. Movie Nazi on Saturday afternoons at the cinema. Real clam chowdah and oyster shots uughh. “Couch patrol” at the Enormous room. Really fast Internet connections. Making friends with all the Arab gas station clerks. Getting the shit kicked out of me for talking my mouth off – and learning to talk less. Bribing my landlord with cigars (thanks J). Becoming a regular at the comic books store and the anime store. Horrible karaoke at Maluken. Learning to grease palms well. Road Trips. Maine and getting sick from too much butter on my lobster. The cape. Driving out to dinner/ club /lounge /bar in shitty shitty weather. After parties in 1008, 303, 711, 275, wherever. Underground, ultrahip t-shirts. The Kebab Factory. Always discovering. Meeting celebrities and realizing that meeting celebrities is such a letdown. Watching my roommate hit on a drag queen and letting him continue until it was almost too late. Falco’s “comatose couches” at 199 Coolidge. Decent driving – compared to here. Knowing the city like the back of my hand. Drinking my chocolate milk in the morning, no matter where I was. Dancing on tables or chilling out at the bar or both – why not. Learning about people and what makes them tick. Opie and Anthony and Whip’em out Wednesdays. Falling in love with Afghani food. Overcoming my fear of snakes as I sent 4 mice to their impending doom. Deep Sea Fishing – and the bar on the boat. South American Accents – Colombians sound the nicest. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, 4rth of July, and all the other holidays I would have never celebrated. Wiffle ball. Water balloon launchers from my dorm window freshman year. The family of Neighbors I had at Spring Street. Videogames and Kozmo.com while ordering wings at Mohi & D’s place at union. cooking with lulu. Great drives along the river. Shoveling snow and waiting till the car warms up. THE INTENSE COLD… Swearing at the ref in Arabic while watching Italian footie in the north end cafes with the Italianos, and being totally accepted. my sister's morning coffee-run - thanks for always buying me nesquick sis. Knowing the free parking spots in the city. The pizza place between aria and venu, whoa… Great Music… “cold tea” at Ginza in Chinatown after 2AM. Sneaking little nips into the Olson’s residence. Ararat restaurant, and being the only person the “mother” would speak to, it’s cause I was the most polite – I miss their Yalanji. Walking… laying out on the grass at the common on a nice day… walking around Beacon Hill… Curious Liquids before they shutdown… The Dominicans playing their baseball on Sunday in front of Douglas Park. Hustling people for dinner playing fifa on the playstation. Getting invited to nice dinners when someone’s parents are in town. Learning the fine art of turning cup of noodles soup, into a satisfying meal. Baulking at Lulu’s super expensive shampoo and conditioner and stylist – I was happy with hong kong hairplace cut your hair very very good. Buying tobacco from Levitt & Pierce in Harvard Square. Rud d? thai food with Ahmed, and then dealing with the aftermath. Working and learning what it feels like to be independent & loving it. Flyers being passed around. Omar’s sets on the decks. Always getting to pick the wine. Never liking anything from Dunkin Donuts – but still loving it. Falling in love with lulu.
I’m sure there’s more, but I guess this is a decent sum up…
I’m sure there’s more, but I guess this is a decent sum up…
Sunday, March 06, 2005
iamwhoiam...ohhwhoami?
My first memory of peer pressure racism started when I was probably in the 5th grade… Running around in school having fun being a total kid, when all of a sudden a couple of friends stopped me and asked “hey, are you Shia or Sunni?” “umm well I don’t know” “what do you mean you don’t know?” then the another kid goes “I bet you he’s Shia” in my head I start thinking, crap.. What are they talking about? should I pick one? I mean I don’t know what I am. Then one of the kids decides to do his own detective work… “how do you pray? With your hands down to your side or on your stomach?” Shit shit and triple shit… what am I going to do now? I don’t pray, what will happen if I tell them I don’t really pray? should I take a guess? (On a side note: before you label me, I was taught how to pray and my mother is a devout Muslim, it’s just that it’s MY RELATIONSHIP with God, not anyone else’s.. you dig?) Rrrrrrrriiingg… aaahh saved by the bell… It’s amazing, but that was one of the first brushes I had trying to figure out who I am, Shia or Sunni… I went home after school still puzzled, so I decided to ask my parents… My mom gave me the typical answer, “if anyone asks you, you tell them you’re Muslim… There’s no difference..” and that was that, the answer sufficed me, there’s no difference…
I went back to school and waited for the next religious question encounter. When that came, my reply was “I am Muslim and there’s no difference” “pffffft, yeah right there’s no difference, I bet you he’s Shia, come on lets go play football…” and they ran off as if I had just been diagnosed with a rare contagious disease transmitted through the mucus of an infected monkey that made it’s way to Bahrain… I thought, fine, let me go ask my friends… Some of them didn’t know either, while others admitted they were Shia or Sunni (they were just happy to know what they were) but we all had the same feelings, what is this divide that even us kids have to start thinking about? Deep down inside we all felt that people have to be pretty fickle to want to make a divide…
It didn’t take long before I found out who the Shia and the Sunnis were, and who I was… I’ll spare you the details of their history, but I will tell you one thing… It’s all because of a couple of instances involving a continued power struggle that this divide happened and that’s it in a nutshell… People have spent their lives researching and gathering information, but to me, Muslim is Muslim, and even more importantly than that, a human being is a human being, just like you, me and everyone else on this rock called Earth.
I’m not going to tell you racism doesn’t exist in Bahrain, there’s racism on every single front: Shia & Sunni, and then they even go deeper into it in terms of the different ethnicities between the two sides… With the Shia: the Bahranis (original inhabitants of Bahrain), the Ajam (of Persian descent), the Subcontinent Shia, the Hassawiyah (Shia from Saudi.. ooops sorry Saudi doesn’t have any Shia), etc. Then you have the Sunnis: The Arab Sunnis, Holees (Sunnis of Persian descent), Subcontinent Sunnis, and from all over the world. We’ve got so many different people from all sorts of walks of life, and we do have racism (it happens all over the world), although we are working at limiting it… Feel free to interject an ethnicity that I’ve forgotten to add…
It’s such a taboo subject to be discussing… There’s unnecessary hatred that has led to some crazy things being said… I had a fellow student in college once tell me that there are Shia families that get together, turn off all the lights in the room and would have a full on scale orgy… I don’t know what drove me to trying to choke him, the fact that he was insulting “my sect” or the fact that he was stupid enough to believe something as absurd as incestuous orgies… Dada, you’re still an idiot for saying that, but I forgive you… I’m writing it off as just some insane brainwashing you were spoon fed from some uneducated fuck of a cleric that was probably molested or wishes he was molested by a member of his family.
This divide,, this racism exists because of one thing and only one thing, and that’s uneducated people who still think there’s a reason to make a difference… It’s people like this that think they’re better than the other person, and it’s people like this that will slow our progress… You shouldn’t sit there and pass any judgment on anyone but yourself…
I went back to school and waited for the next religious question encounter. When that came, my reply was “I am Muslim and there’s no difference” “pffffft, yeah right there’s no difference, I bet you he’s Shia, come on lets go play football…” and they ran off as if I had just been diagnosed with a rare contagious disease transmitted through the mucus of an infected monkey that made it’s way to Bahrain… I thought, fine, let me go ask my friends… Some of them didn’t know either, while others admitted they were Shia or Sunni (they were just happy to know what they were) but we all had the same feelings, what is this divide that even us kids have to start thinking about? Deep down inside we all felt that people have to be pretty fickle to want to make a divide…
It didn’t take long before I found out who the Shia and the Sunnis were, and who I was… I’ll spare you the details of their history, but I will tell you one thing… It’s all because of a couple of instances involving a continued power struggle that this divide happened and that’s it in a nutshell… People have spent their lives researching and gathering information, but to me, Muslim is Muslim, and even more importantly than that, a human being is a human being, just like you, me and everyone else on this rock called Earth.
I’m not going to tell you racism doesn’t exist in Bahrain, there’s racism on every single front: Shia & Sunni, and then they even go deeper into it in terms of the different ethnicities between the two sides… With the Shia: the Bahranis (original inhabitants of Bahrain), the Ajam (of Persian descent), the Subcontinent Shia, the Hassawiyah (Shia from Saudi.. ooops sorry Saudi doesn’t have any Shia), etc. Then you have the Sunnis: The Arab Sunnis, Holees (Sunnis of Persian descent), Subcontinent Sunnis, and from all over the world. We’ve got so many different people from all sorts of walks of life, and we do have racism (it happens all over the world), although we are working at limiting it… Feel free to interject an ethnicity that I’ve forgotten to add…
It’s such a taboo subject to be discussing… There’s unnecessary hatred that has led to some crazy things being said… I had a fellow student in college once tell me that there are Shia families that get together, turn off all the lights in the room and would have a full on scale orgy… I don’t know what drove me to trying to choke him, the fact that he was insulting “my sect” or the fact that he was stupid enough to believe something as absurd as incestuous orgies… Dada, you’re still an idiot for saying that, but I forgive you… I’m writing it off as just some insane brainwashing you were spoon fed from some uneducated fuck of a cleric that was probably molested or wishes he was molested by a member of his family.
This divide,, this racism exists because of one thing and only one thing, and that’s uneducated people who still think there’s a reason to make a difference… It’s people like this that think they’re better than the other person, and it’s people like this that will slow our progress… You shouldn’t sit there and pass any judgment on anyone but yourself…
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
DVD Joe…
Ohhh, what I would do for a proper DVD/Video rental store… A large well lit shop, with stacks of movies organized by genre and then organized in alphabetical order, a shop where they have at least three copies of each new release. Since you don’t have that luxury here in Bahrain yet, you need to find others means of sorting yourself out. See in Bahrain, renting movies is a very intricate issue involving a lot of relationship building, good credit, and a lot of charm… You can’t just expect to walk into a rental shop, get a membership and walk out with your movies. Allow me to explain the typical rental shop: they are much smaller than you’d think, with one guy running the show (your “go to guy”), and they rarely order more than one copy per film, so if you don’t play your cards right, you can wait a couple of weeks maybe even longer before you’ll get to see that movie you’ve been patiently waiting for…
Shmoozing is very important… the dvd “go to guy” is key to your rental bliss: he’s the guy that unpacks the stock of new arrivals, he’s the guy that always hides movies under the counter for the special customers, and if you’ve got a good rapport with him he will be your best friend and call you up when a movie comes in. My “go to guy” is DVD Joe… he has a real name, but I don’t think he minds it if I call him Joe, I’m the only guy who calls him that so it saves me trying to remind him who I am over the phone… If you don’t have a “go to guy”, don’t worry too much about it… you can always get yourself one, and no matter how bad you’ve ruined your relationship with the guy, it’s always repairable, always… Y’see it’s all about the relationship, he needs to know he can trust you with bringing the movies back on time, and he also needs to know that you don’t have a problem with coughing up a late fee (being cheap here pulls you a couple of rungs down the important renter list)… Here’s what you have to do to build or repair your relationship with the guy: rent a movie and return it within 24 hours… do it a couple of times, and then he’ll realize that you’re trust worthy… Once you’ve gotten past the trust part, then you can start badgering him about the movies… Ask him what are his latest releases, and then ask him what’s behind the counter reserved for people… I know this is pretty dick, taking someone else’s reserved movie, but hey, I’ve taken the time to build a relationship with DVD Joe, I’m his friend, we joke around, and I will take your movie… tough… As your relationship with Joe progresses, he will then start calling you with new releases, keeping them reserved for you… It’s also important to joke around and keep the conversation light.. I find discussing Denise Richards’ behind, hangovers, and good Indian trucker food stops to be good…
One problem associated with having a “go to guy” is that he’s going to want to push his taste of movies on you.. and if his taste is anything like DVD Joe’s, it’s gonna be gruesome… I think I hurt his feelings once when he tried to push the latest Steven Segal movie on me… It takes a while, but if your Joe is as smart as mine, then he’ll start to monitor your tastes and save dvds accordingly…
Dvd renting etiquette is that you can’t let everyone at the shop know you and dvd joe are buddies… See he’s lying to customers telling them this movie isn’t available or that movie isn’t available, when the truth is that he’s got the movie hidden behind the counter waiting to get picked up by you… When other customers are in the shop, it’s always good to remain quiet and quick with the transaction… you don’t want to raise any suspicion from the other customers…
Another problem you have to watch out for with renting is dvd breakups... I had a friend who had the perfect “go to guy, ” everything taken care of in terms of the newest releases, with a set schedule and all, they even used to play a couple of rounds of play station at the shop, it was a dvd match made in heaven. Only problem was that “go to guy” found another job and was leaving the rental store. I don’t have to tell you this but my buddy was gutted, no more hiding the movies for you, no more nothing … So what do you do when your “go to guy” leaves? Well you either start working on a relationship with the new guy, or you pack up and find another movie rental shop…
Before Bahrain adopted it’s current copyright and piracy laws, you could find copies of anything on VHS… illegal copies, uncensored movies, VCDs from the Far East, even movies that you didn’t even know got released in Hollywood (did you know there’s a con air 3 with Ray Liotta? I didn’t). Now if you’ve got a better than normal relationship with Dvd Joe, then you can start getting anything you want… Many of us kids growing up in Bahrain developed a vast porn empire due to the diligent copying and distribution of Johnny from a certain Video shop on Adliya back in the mid nineties (man that guy made a bundle from us kids) – oh please, like you didn’t know, everyone knew…
For some of you, everything I’ve said makes a lot of sense, others, you just can’t relate… well I feel sorry for you… cause guess what gumby? I’m watching the movie I wanted to watch, while you’re stuck having to make a decision on whether to watch a chick flick or the Disney comedy with the 15-year-old twins solving the mystery… you make the call…
Shmoozing is very important… the dvd “go to guy” is key to your rental bliss: he’s the guy that unpacks the stock of new arrivals, he’s the guy that always hides movies under the counter for the special customers, and if you’ve got a good rapport with him he will be your best friend and call you up when a movie comes in. My “go to guy” is DVD Joe… he has a real name, but I don’t think he minds it if I call him Joe, I’m the only guy who calls him that so it saves me trying to remind him who I am over the phone… If you don’t have a “go to guy”, don’t worry too much about it… you can always get yourself one, and no matter how bad you’ve ruined your relationship with the guy, it’s always repairable, always… Y’see it’s all about the relationship, he needs to know he can trust you with bringing the movies back on time, and he also needs to know that you don’t have a problem with coughing up a late fee (being cheap here pulls you a couple of rungs down the important renter list)… Here’s what you have to do to build or repair your relationship with the guy: rent a movie and return it within 24 hours… do it a couple of times, and then he’ll realize that you’re trust worthy… Once you’ve gotten past the trust part, then you can start badgering him about the movies… Ask him what are his latest releases, and then ask him what’s behind the counter reserved for people… I know this is pretty dick, taking someone else’s reserved movie, but hey, I’ve taken the time to build a relationship with DVD Joe, I’m his friend, we joke around, and I will take your movie… tough… As your relationship with Joe progresses, he will then start calling you with new releases, keeping them reserved for you… It’s also important to joke around and keep the conversation light.. I find discussing Denise Richards’ behind, hangovers, and good Indian trucker food stops to be good…
One problem associated with having a “go to guy” is that he’s going to want to push his taste of movies on you.. and if his taste is anything like DVD Joe’s, it’s gonna be gruesome… I think I hurt his feelings once when he tried to push the latest Steven Segal movie on me… It takes a while, but if your Joe is as smart as mine, then he’ll start to monitor your tastes and save dvds accordingly…
Dvd renting etiquette is that you can’t let everyone at the shop know you and dvd joe are buddies… See he’s lying to customers telling them this movie isn’t available or that movie isn’t available, when the truth is that he’s got the movie hidden behind the counter waiting to get picked up by you… When other customers are in the shop, it’s always good to remain quiet and quick with the transaction… you don’t want to raise any suspicion from the other customers…
Another problem you have to watch out for with renting is dvd breakups... I had a friend who had the perfect “go to guy, ” everything taken care of in terms of the newest releases, with a set schedule and all, they even used to play a couple of rounds of play station at the shop, it was a dvd match made in heaven. Only problem was that “go to guy” found another job and was leaving the rental store. I don’t have to tell you this but my buddy was gutted, no more hiding the movies for you, no more nothing … So what do you do when your “go to guy” leaves? Well you either start working on a relationship with the new guy, or you pack up and find another movie rental shop…
Before Bahrain adopted it’s current copyright and piracy laws, you could find copies of anything on VHS… illegal copies, uncensored movies, VCDs from the Far East, even movies that you didn’t even know got released in Hollywood (did you know there’s a con air 3 with Ray Liotta? I didn’t). Now if you’ve got a better than normal relationship with Dvd Joe, then you can start getting anything you want… Many of us kids growing up in Bahrain developed a vast porn empire due to the diligent copying and distribution of Johnny from a certain Video shop on Adliya back in the mid nineties (man that guy made a bundle from us kids) – oh please, like you didn’t know, everyone knew…
For some of you, everything I’ve said makes a lot of sense, others, you just can’t relate… well I feel sorry for you… cause guess what gumby? I’m watching the movie I wanted to watch, while you’re stuck having to make a decision on whether to watch a chick flick or the Disney comedy with the 15-year-old twins solving the mystery… you make the call…
Monday, February 14, 2005
king of my castle...
I’ve always found architecture in Bahrain to be such a fascinating thing… well not really fascinating, more along the lines of “What were you thinking buddy?” I mean ok to each his own, you want to build a house, then go for it, do what you want as long as you’re happy... But if it looks stupid, then I’m within my right to laugh at your castle…
Columns are the true craze in Bahrain, if you don’t have at least two columns outside your house, then you might as well shoot your Architect… … it’s like that Mel Brooks History of the World line “Columns columns columns turn any hovel to a showplace”. That line really works here… for those of you that live in Bahrain, next time you’re out on a drive, go take a look at all the columns at the entrance to people’s houses… It’s like people go to visit architects, they like what they see, then they offer their own opinion (fair enough it’s their house)… “well we like what you’ve done with the rotunda and the glass menagerie looks great… but the entrance to the house is still missing something… me the ‘Madame’ feel like it could use a couple more columns… “ It’s like keeping up with the Joneses but Bahraini style… When I build my dream house someday, there’s gonna be 18 greco-roman marble columns gracing the entrance to my house announcing my arrival to the neighborhood…
Another house touch up is the latest fake rock wall that people are going for these days.. The problem is that not only is it not real rock, but these people have refused to try and get a more “real rock color, “ no they go for the in your face, shit brown rock in hope of the grand canyonish rock wall feel… delightful…
People have gotten so much more creative with their painting.. they now go for the camouflage effect. I have a neighbor who decided that when his dream house was built, he wanted to go for shocking more than anything… So this bozo spends his money on getting his house painted to look like (wait for it – imagine.. just imagine) a Saharan camouflage Giraffe print??? I know… just try to digest what I’ve just described and think about it for a second… Fucking insane if you ask me..
Another one of my neighbors (yes the weird houses all moved into my block – we’re thinking of moving) got a little stumped on what he could do with the extra space outside his house right on the road. A light bulb goes on and then it explodes in his head leaving him with an idea… The dude, decides he wants a fake “well” built outside his house on the main road, y’know to give off this Oasis / Wild West feel to his abode… So he went and blew some of his cash on having this fake rock well built and then to just add that finishing touch, he attached a bucket to a rope and hung it off the well, y’know for effect… I wonder if he blames himself for being a dumb ass that someone stole the bucket off the well… I mean what are you thinking? Hey let me tie up the horses and fetch them a pail of water, they sure look thirsty…
Architecture here used to be so intelligent, people would utilize their materials to work with the type of climate here… No air conditioning? No problem, we’ll build these wind towers on our roofs and they’ll help channel the cool air down to the house… Humidity and heat? Not a problem, we’ll build the foundation of the house using coral stones and they’ll suck up the humidity in the walls and keep the floor cool… Everyone here is so obsessed with building houses out of concrete and cement and it just leaves me wondering why? Generations and generations of builders had it right.. can’t we come up with some sort of agreement? Use some of the architecture of our past and some from today to make some great looking houses?
Real architects on this island are a dying breed, being replaced by cut and paste experts willing to do anything for a buck… If the client’s design wont work, you should inform them… let them know what their options are… I’ve seen a couple of Architectural Marvels in my short lifetime and they usually leave me awestruck. I get that same feeling when I see old Bahraini Architecture and its beautiful simplicity. Why would anyone want to throw it all away? An architect once told me, when you design, everything needs to have a purpose, “form follows function”… we need to bring that kind of thinking back to this region. You shouldn’t design something for someone if it’s not right… Money is money and you want to flaunt it, by all means, but spend the money wisely… why give yourself a stupid paint job when in a year or two you’re going to have to touch it up again… As Mies Van der Rohe said, “less is more.”
Today, practices in Bahrain have databases of so called architectural styles from which they do a cut and paste job and hey presto here’s your house… But what are these choices based on? They are based on an incorrect preconceived ideas of what ‘western’ (especially American) architecture is ie: “80s Dynasty style” once admired as the pinnacle of architecture and borrowed to convey importance and used as a symbol of status… This is a big no no, they have their architecture and it works for them, we need to take what we have and rethink it… Take everything back to the blackboard and use our past to help bring back an identity to our future…
In closing, you really should do whatever you please with your house, it’s your house, you should make it as comfortable as possible… but the outside of your house does reflect on the neighborhood… so do us all a favor and before you go out and have your house painted magenta and lime green, stop for a second and think about it… what does it say about you?
Columns are the true craze in Bahrain, if you don’t have at least two columns outside your house, then you might as well shoot your Architect… … it’s like that Mel Brooks History of the World line “Columns columns columns turn any hovel to a showplace”. That line really works here… for those of you that live in Bahrain, next time you’re out on a drive, go take a look at all the columns at the entrance to people’s houses… It’s like people go to visit architects, they like what they see, then they offer their own opinion (fair enough it’s their house)… “well we like what you’ve done with the rotunda and the glass menagerie looks great… but the entrance to the house is still missing something… me the ‘Madame’ feel like it could use a couple more columns… “ It’s like keeping up with the Joneses but Bahraini style… When I build my dream house someday, there’s gonna be 18 greco-roman marble columns gracing the entrance to my house announcing my arrival to the neighborhood…
Another house touch up is the latest fake rock wall that people are going for these days.. The problem is that not only is it not real rock, but these people have refused to try and get a more “real rock color, “ no they go for the in your face, shit brown rock in hope of the grand canyonish rock wall feel… delightful…
People have gotten so much more creative with their painting.. they now go for the camouflage effect. I have a neighbor who decided that when his dream house was built, he wanted to go for shocking more than anything… So this bozo spends his money on getting his house painted to look like (wait for it – imagine.. just imagine) a Saharan camouflage Giraffe print??? I know… just try to digest what I’ve just described and think about it for a second… Fucking insane if you ask me..
Another one of my neighbors (yes the weird houses all moved into my block – we’re thinking of moving) got a little stumped on what he could do with the extra space outside his house right on the road. A light bulb goes on and then it explodes in his head leaving him with an idea… The dude, decides he wants a fake “well” built outside his house on the main road, y’know to give off this Oasis / Wild West feel to his abode… So he went and blew some of his cash on having this fake rock well built and then to just add that finishing touch, he attached a bucket to a rope and hung it off the well, y’know for effect… I wonder if he blames himself for being a dumb ass that someone stole the bucket off the well… I mean what are you thinking? Hey let me tie up the horses and fetch them a pail of water, they sure look thirsty…
Architecture here used to be so intelligent, people would utilize their materials to work with the type of climate here… No air conditioning? No problem, we’ll build these wind towers on our roofs and they’ll help channel the cool air down to the house… Humidity and heat? Not a problem, we’ll build the foundation of the house using coral stones and they’ll suck up the humidity in the walls and keep the floor cool… Everyone here is so obsessed with building houses out of concrete and cement and it just leaves me wondering why? Generations and generations of builders had it right.. can’t we come up with some sort of agreement? Use some of the architecture of our past and some from today to make some great looking houses?
Real architects on this island are a dying breed, being replaced by cut and paste experts willing to do anything for a buck… If the client’s design wont work, you should inform them… let them know what their options are… I’ve seen a couple of Architectural Marvels in my short lifetime and they usually leave me awestruck. I get that same feeling when I see old Bahraini Architecture and its beautiful simplicity. Why would anyone want to throw it all away? An architect once told me, when you design, everything needs to have a purpose, “form follows function”… we need to bring that kind of thinking back to this region. You shouldn’t design something for someone if it’s not right… Money is money and you want to flaunt it, by all means, but spend the money wisely… why give yourself a stupid paint job when in a year or two you’re going to have to touch it up again… As Mies Van der Rohe said, “less is more.”
Today, practices in Bahrain have databases of so called architectural styles from which they do a cut and paste job and hey presto here’s your house… But what are these choices based on? They are based on an incorrect preconceived ideas of what ‘western’ (especially American) architecture is ie: “80s Dynasty style” once admired as the pinnacle of architecture and borrowed to convey importance and used as a symbol of status… This is a big no no, they have their architecture and it works for them, we need to take what we have and rethink it… Take everything back to the blackboard and use our past to help bring back an identity to our future…
In closing, you really should do whatever you please with your house, it’s your house, you should make it as comfortable as possible… but the outside of your house does reflect on the neighborhood… so do us all a favor and before you go out and have your house painted magenta and lime green, stop for a second and think about it… what does it say about you?
Thursday, February 03, 2005
job satisfaction...
Dream Job #1:
Model Scout: long hours spent on the beaches of Brazil looking for the next super model. The job would lead to a lot of traveling to all sorts of destinations around the world inspecting the most beautiful women. Will never have a problem with getting in anywhere (bars, clubs, restaurants, private parties, anywhere) because you’ll always have a group of wannabe models following you around… and to make this all better, you’re getting paid to do all of this… “Babe, Adriana Lima is where she is cause she listened to me and I took her to the top… by the way I’ll need to take some photos…” Muwaahahahaha
Dream Job #2:
Sporting Director for FC Barcelona: I didn’t choose an English or Italian team, because they like to have the Presidents and Chairmen handle all the negotiating. In Spain, things are a little different, it’s the Sporting Director who wines and dines the players, travels to negotiate the final deal with the new south American phenomenino, negotiates their contracts, provides the link between the player and the club.. yeah that would be cool. (think Jorge Valdano at the birth of the Galacticos – but for FCB instead – Viva Catalunya).
Dream Job #3:
Freelance Writer for popular music magazines: I’m not a Superstar DJ, nor am I a gifted musician, but I’d sure like to tell their stories… Rock concerts, backstage parties, sets on the beach in Punta Del Este… whoa… No dress code, mobile office, and you spend the rest of your free time writing that novel that you’ve been thinking about…
Dream Job #4:
Pirate: The wind in your hair, looting and plundering, a secret pirate island, a lass in every port, a loyal yet fierce crew, the best rum ever stolen, cool clothes, stories about mermaids – sharks - and killer penguins… Aarrrrrrr… the adventures of a pirate what a wonderful life it would be… just think of all the cool things you could do – hold the world’s supply of ramen noodles for ransom…
Dream Job #5:
Personal Masseuse to Helena Christiansen: Yummy
Ok, so what’s your dream job?
Model Scout: long hours spent on the beaches of Brazil looking for the next super model. The job would lead to a lot of traveling to all sorts of destinations around the world inspecting the most beautiful women. Will never have a problem with getting in anywhere (bars, clubs, restaurants, private parties, anywhere) because you’ll always have a group of wannabe models following you around… and to make this all better, you’re getting paid to do all of this… “Babe, Adriana Lima is where she is cause she listened to me and I took her to the top… by the way I’ll need to take some photos…” Muwaahahahaha
Dream Job #2:
Sporting Director for FC Barcelona: I didn’t choose an English or Italian team, because they like to have the Presidents and Chairmen handle all the negotiating. In Spain, things are a little different, it’s the Sporting Director who wines and dines the players, travels to negotiate the final deal with the new south American phenomenino, negotiates their contracts, provides the link between the player and the club.. yeah that would be cool. (think Jorge Valdano at the birth of the Galacticos – but for FCB instead – Viva Catalunya).
Dream Job #3:
Freelance Writer for popular music magazines: I’m not a Superstar DJ, nor am I a gifted musician, but I’d sure like to tell their stories… Rock concerts, backstage parties, sets on the beach in Punta Del Este… whoa… No dress code, mobile office, and you spend the rest of your free time writing that novel that you’ve been thinking about…
Dream Job #4:
Pirate: The wind in your hair, looting and plundering, a secret pirate island, a lass in every port, a loyal yet fierce crew, the best rum ever stolen, cool clothes, stories about mermaids – sharks - and killer penguins… Aarrrrrrr… the adventures of a pirate what a wonderful life it would be… just think of all the cool things you could do – hold the world’s supply of ramen noodles for ransom…
Dream Job #5:
Personal Masseuse to Helena Christiansen: Yummy
Ok, so what’s your dream job?
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
I miss that cola guzzling Camel…
I grew up in the 80s… before Nintendo, arcades, and malls; before everything, we had our public gardens… I remember them being green and I remember them being a load of fun… running around, there were playgrounds, there were mini-rides, and there were animals… The most memorable animal from my childhood was a camel from the Salmaniya Garden…
As the afternoon weather got more pleasant, you’d make your way to the Garden and spend a couple of hours playing, running around until the Camel would arrive… As soon as you’d see the Camel plodding along with its trainer, you’d run off to buy a glass bottle of Soda Pop (Pepsi, Miranda, 7Up, whatever was available)… I know you’re going to think I’m insane for doing this, but I’d run up to the camel, and he’d bend his head down as if saying something and with his puckered lips take the bottle of soda. The Camel would then raise his head up, chug that bottle of soda, and finish off the performance by spitting that bottle as far as his camel lips could spit… this was such a cool thing to see, I mean the glass bottle projectile would fly out of this mouth and if you were in the way, you really needed to dodge, and fast… I wasn’t the only kid who thought a cola guzzling camel was a cool thing, kids lined up and bought bottle after bottle…
It didn’t take long before the camel keeled over and died… I’m sure all those fizzy drinks had something to do with it all… looking back, I remember Miranda (orange soda) had a marketing campaign with a puppet camel that drank the sodas and gave a thumbs up for Miranda… So maybe subconsciously we (kids) thought it was ok to feed the camel drinks… who knows… does anyone ever remember the poor camel’s name?
I miss that camel...
As the afternoon weather got more pleasant, you’d make your way to the Garden and spend a couple of hours playing, running around until the Camel would arrive… As soon as you’d see the Camel plodding along with its trainer, you’d run off to buy a glass bottle of Soda Pop (Pepsi, Miranda, 7Up, whatever was available)… I know you’re going to think I’m insane for doing this, but I’d run up to the camel, and he’d bend his head down as if saying something and with his puckered lips take the bottle of soda. The Camel would then raise his head up, chug that bottle of soda, and finish off the performance by spitting that bottle as far as his camel lips could spit… this was such a cool thing to see, I mean the glass bottle projectile would fly out of this mouth and if you were in the way, you really needed to dodge, and fast… I wasn’t the only kid who thought a cola guzzling camel was a cool thing, kids lined up and bought bottle after bottle…
It didn’t take long before the camel keeled over and died… I’m sure all those fizzy drinks had something to do with it all… looking back, I remember Miranda (orange soda) had a marketing campaign with a puppet camel that drank the sodas and gave a thumbs up for Miranda… So maybe subconsciously we (kids) thought it was ok to feed the camel drinks… who knows… does anyone ever remember the poor camel’s name?
I miss that camel...
Monday, January 10, 2005
Fable... Intro
It has been 18 hours since the battle at Jebel el Habash and I had all but given up hope that my men would come to my rescue. My captors continue to poke their sharpened spears into my cage, laughing as I dodge and delay my untimely demise for another few hours… Their language is foreign to my tongue and their actions barbaric. From what I have noticed, they are a well-assembled and disciplined group of marauders that have made it to our shores and have established the range of green mountains as their own, looting all caravans and villages crossing their usurped lands. The Caliph from his throne in Damascus dispatched an army of a thousand strong men lead by my father to suppress these savages. I have no recollection of the battle; I do know that I Mukhtar ibn Saif ibn Waleed Al Fares am the only living prisoner within their camp.
I have been stripped of all weapons and jewelry. All that remains is the ring bearing my family’s crest; A gift from a Christian goldsmith in Venice… Even if I could mastermind an escape from my prison, I will not go undetected for long; these savages are expert trackers and will not take long to follow my trail… The cloak of night will be my only opportunity to escape…
They are a fierce warrior race, and by the looks of their stolen armor and organization seem to have fought many adversaries, Christians, Muslims and their own. My memory of the battle does not exist, but it is impossible that they could have defeated our army; my count verifies that we outnumbered them tenfold. A master of the dark arts must be among them… My head still carries a pain as though Allah has sent a thunderstorm into my head… I must rest…
My eyes have totally adjusted to the dark, a trick my uncle taught me while hunting the desert at night… The merciless heat of the sun forces all animals to take shelter underground, forcing a waiting game between the predator and its prey… Guards continue to patrol the campsite anxiously waiting for something or someone to attack, their weapons ready… These barbarians are anxious about something and I fear it’s not my Arab brethren…
A guard walks towards my cage with his weapon in hand ready to spear my soon to be dead carcass… Instead he throws a piece of bread; I cannot remember the last time I ate something… the savage mutters… I do not speak his language but the meanings of his words are clear… Soon enough, my short life will come to an end… As the guard pulls away, I pull my fingertips at the crust of this old bread, my hunger has left my body weak…
“Be careful what you eat Arab, these savages poison everything… that is how they killed your army, they poisoned your water…” Turning back I notice something in a neighboring cage move, there is another captor with me… “Who said that? Who are you?” “I am a prisoner like yourself, these barbarians saw your armies advancing days ago and poisoned the wells on route… The poison left your troops in a trance, unable to defend themselves while these monsters slaughtered them all.” “Who are you? And what are you doing here?” “ My name is Manuel Diego Lopez Ferriero, I was a member of a Portuguese trading ship that captured these animals as slaves, two days into our voyage back, members of the crew started dying from an unknown disease. Bruises and strange marks began to appear on the crew, and once you were infected it would not take long before death came. The marks covered your body and then it attacked your spirit, killing off any human part of you. Some of the infected began killing each other like animals, while others threw themselves off board in fits of madness. I immediately went into hiding when the savages took control of the ship and they only discovered me when we crashed into the rocks off this coast. Be careful what you do stranger because these monsters eat the living, I have seen it with my own eyes, slicing off limbs like roasted meat – they are more demon than human.”
The guards reply to our conversation by jabbing their swords and spears into our cages… I begin my dance again to avoid the razor sharp blades, exhausted and clinging onto my last life… I cannot keep this up much longer I must escape… They finally give up after a barked order from another savage. As they walk away from our prisons, towards the fire, a fragrant smell begins to find it’s way to my nostrils. it’s soft and floral yet pungent, almost spiced… The scent is heavy, filling my head quickly, yet it is slowing down my movements, I cannot retain any proper thoughts… I turn to Manuel, but he has already drifted into a deep slumber. My eye lids cannot hold their own weight as I drift off to my drug induced sleep…
want to hear more?
I have been stripped of all weapons and jewelry. All that remains is the ring bearing my family’s crest; A gift from a Christian goldsmith in Venice… Even if I could mastermind an escape from my prison, I will not go undetected for long; these savages are expert trackers and will not take long to follow my trail… The cloak of night will be my only opportunity to escape…
They are a fierce warrior race, and by the looks of their stolen armor and organization seem to have fought many adversaries, Christians, Muslims and their own. My memory of the battle does not exist, but it is impossible that they could have defeated our army; my count verifies that we outnumbered them tenfold. A master of the dark arts must be among them… My head still carries a pain as though Allah has sent a thunderstorm into my head… I must rest…
My eyes have totally adjusted to the dark, a trick my uncle taught me while hunting the desert at night… The merciless heat of the sun forces all animals to take shelter underground, forcing a waiting game between the predator and its prey… Guards continue to patrol the campsite anxiously waiting for something or someone to attack, their weapons ready… These barbarians are anxious about something and I fear it’s not my Arab brethren…
A guard walks towards my cage with his weapon in hand ready to spear my soon to be dead carcass… Instead he throws a piece of bread; I cannot remember the last time I ate something… the savage mutters… I do not speak his language but the meanings of his words are clear… Soon enough, my short life will come to an end… As the guard pulls away, I pull my fingertips at the crust of this old bread, my hunger has left my body weak…
“Be careful what you eat Arab, these savages poison everything… that is how they killed your army, they poisoned your water…” Turning back I notice something in a neighboring cage move, there is another captor with me… “Who said that? Who are you?” “I am a prisoner like yourself, these barbarians saw your armies advancing days ago and poisoned the wells on route… The poison left your troops in a trance, unable to defend themselves while these monsters slaughtered them all.” “Who are you? And what are you doing here?” “ My name is Manuel Diego Lopez Ferriero, I was a member of a Portuguese trading ship that captured these animals as slaves, two days into our voyage back, members of the crew started dying from an unknown disease. Bruises and strange marks began to appear on the crew, and once you were infected it would not take long before death came. The marks covered your body and then it attacked your spirit, killing off any human part of you. Some of the infected began killing each other like animals, while others threw themselves off board in fits of madness. I immediately went into hiding when the savages took control of the ship and they only discovered me when we crashed into the rocks off this coast. Be careful what you do stranger because these monsters eat the living, I have seen it with my own eyes, slicing off limbs like roasted meat – they are more demon than human.”
The guards reply to our conversation by jabbing their swords and spears into our cages… I begin my dance again to avoid the razor sharp blades, exhausted and clinging onto my last life… I cannot keep this up much longer I must escape… They finally give up after a barked order from another savage. As they walk away from our prisons, towards the fire, a fragrant smell begins to find it’s way to my nostrils. it’s soft and floral yet pungent, almost spiced… The scent is heavy, filling my head quickly, yet it is slowing down my movements, I cannot retain any proper thoughts… I turn to Manuel, but he has already drifted into a deep slumber. My eye lids cannot hold their own weight as I drift off to my drug induced sleep…
want to hear more?
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
stressing out on the drive to work...
You knew this was going to happen… I may have touched on a couple of sensitive points when I ranted about driving in Bahrain… The truth is, there’s so many more things to complain about regarding driving in Bahrain…
First let me bring your attention to the worst parents on the face of this planet… Let me explain the heart attack I almost had and then you can pass judgment (but bear in mind if you have an opinion other than mine, then you need to piss off and die)… Driving down Government Avenue heading towards the diplomatic area, I get towards a rotary and the coast looked clear… All of a sudden a car comes flying out of nowhere with a family stuffed to the brim (mind you none of them are wearing seatbelts): dad driving, kids in the back, and mom’s in the front seat playing a game by throwing her infant in the air and catching him the whole time the GODDAMN WINDOW’S OPEN!!! I mean all it took was a slip of the hand and there goes the kid out the window onto the road and there’s his head crushed by the big truck… It took me a couple of seconds to recover from the shock of having to slam on my brakes and the sight of a mother playing catch with her baby in the front seat of a car with the window open… I had to drive over and do my nonsensical yelling at them about safety, and they just shrugged me off as another escapee from the psychiatric hospital…
Parents not properly securing their children in their cars is a huge issue here in Bahrain… I’m hating the fact that I’m becoming so desensitized to it (you have to, there’s no other choice because no one will listen to you), that I just shrug it off and hope they don’t get killed in an accident… you see them, all over the roads, kids standing in the front passenger seat, no seatbelts, kids jumping around the car, parents driving with their kids in their laps… It’s just ridiculous… I mean do you not care about the safety of your child? Driving in Bahrain is horrible with traffic, speeding, and accidents, why are you taking that additional risk with your child’s safety? Maybe I’m just too much of a paranoid person, but I don’t think your child’s safety is something you should be playing around with… Some parents will claim that the kid won’t sit still and always moves around, well that’s probably because you never taught them that the car was a vehicle not a play pen, and maybe you should wean them off the sugar water and candy while you’re at it…
This has to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen in Bahrain: you have these asshole parents with their stupid “Baby on Board” signs to warn other drivers. But once you drive up close, you’ll find the baby on board bouncing all over the place… What’s the point of that? Why would even have a sign for a baby on board and not give a damn about securing them in a safe place? Typical… I feel like I need to sit there and cheer on parents that have properly secured their children in the car because they’re few and far between…
My god, some people and the way they drive here… whenever you get behind the wheel here, you just have to immediately assume that everyone’s a bad driver, including yourself.
Ok the espresso’s kickin’ in, I’m feeling a lot better, it’s just one of those days where you encounter all this stupidity on the road that you need to smoke a cigarette and drink some strong coffee to get over the jitters of careless parents…
I'd love to know how do you feel about all this...
First let me bring your attention to the worst parents on the face of this planet… Let me explain the heart attack I almost had and then you can pass judgment (but bear in mind if you have an opinion other than mine, then you need to piss off and die)… Driving down Government Avenue heading towards the diplomatic area, I get towards a rotary and the coast looked clear… All of a sudden a car comes flying out of nowhere with a family stuffed to the brim (mind you none of them are wearing seatbelts): dad driving, kids in the back, and mom’s in the front seat playing a game by throwing her infant in the air and catching him the whole time the GODDAMN WINDOW’S OPEN!!! I mean all it took was a slip of the hand and there goes the kid out the window onto the road and there’s his head crushed by the big truck… It took me a couple of seconds to recover from the shock of having to slam on my brakes and the sight of a mother playing catch with her baby in the front seat of a car with the window open… I had to drive over and do my nonsensical yelling at them about safety, and they just shrugged me off as another escapee from the psychiatric hospital…
Parents not properly securing their children in their cars is a huge issue here in Bahrain… I’m hating the fact that I’m becoming so desensitized to it (you have to, there’s no other choice because no one will listen to you), that I just shrug it off and hope they don’t get killed in an accident… you see them, all over the roads, kids standing in the front passenger seat, no seatbelts, kids jumping around the car, parents driving with their kids in their laps… It’s just ridiculous… I mean do you not care about the safety of your child? Driving in Bahrain is horrible with traffic, speeding, and accidents, why are you taking that additional risk with your child’s safety? Maybe I’m just too much of a paranoid person, but I don’t think your child’s safety is something you should be playing around with… Some parents will claim that the kid won’t sit still and always moves around, well that’s probably because you never taught them that the car was a vehicle not a play pen, and maybe you should wean them off the sugar water and candy while you’re at it…
This has to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen in Bahrain: you have these asshole parents with their stupid “Baby on Board” signs to warn other drivers. But once you drive up close, you’ll find the baby on board bouncing all over the place… What’s the point of that? Why would even have a sign for a baby on board and not give a damn about securing them in a safe place? Typical… I feel like I need to sit there and cheer on parents that have properly secured their children in the car because they’re few and far between…
My god, some people and the way they drive here… whenever you get behind the wheel here, you just have to immediately assume that everyone’s a bad driver, including yourself.
Ok the espresso’s kickin’ in, I’m feeling a lot better, it’s just one of those days where you encounter all this stupidity on the road that you need to smoke a cigarette and drink some strong coffee to get over the jitters of careless parents…
I'd love to know how do you feel about all this...
Monday, December 27, 2004
Can you play my game?
Ok People, this is it, I’ve been cruising to my music on random and I’ve written out the lyrics to 30 tracks from the ‘pod… It’s your job to figure out the Artist and Track title: I’m sure you can cheat your way through this one, but it’s no fun like that… answers will be posted in a couple of days or next week, who knows… some of the lyrics might be off, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got ‘em all… let see how good you guys are at guessing random music…
1- Ma hip-hop will rock and shock the nation like the emancipation proclamation
2- Light me up a cigarette as I strap shoes on my feet
3- I took her home to my place, watching every move on her face
4- Everyday I thank god for roses, they’re the closest thing to perfect next to you
5- And now we meet in an abandoned studio
6- High on Diesel and Gasoline, psycho for drum-machine
7- When you’re on a holiday…
8- At night I can’t sleep, I toss and turn, candlesticks in the dark, visions of bodies being burned.
9- There must be something in the way I feel cause she don’t want me to feel
10- A man walks down the street, he says why am I soft in the middle now?
11- We live on a mountain, right at the top, this beautiful view, from the top of the mountain
12- Cause if you try sometime, you just might find, you get what you need…
13- Sitting here resting my bones, and this loneliness wont leave me alone
14- Everything has changed, absolutely nothing’s changed, take my hand…
15- Doing all the don’ts and never looking back is the way I ought to be
16- We gonna Dance all night to this Dj, sugar, dance all night to this dj..
17- Oh yeah you’re skin and bones
18- Coming to ya, on a dusty road, good loving, I gotta a truck load
19- I must have died and gone to heaven cause it was a quarter past eleven
20- Dark as the night cold as the ground as the circular solitude of my heart…
21- Making love in the afternoon…
22- It’s always tease tease tease, you’re happy when I’m on my knees
23- I used to go out to parties, and stand around, cause I was too nervous to really get down
24- One good thing about music, when it hits you feel no pain, so hit me with music, hit with music, brutalize me with music.
25- People try to put us down…
26- Very superstitious, writings on the wall…
27- Well I guess what they say is true.. I could never spend my life with a man like you
28- when I’m walking , I strut my stuff and I’m so strung out
29- So wide you can’t get around it, so low you can’t get under it
30- Last night I had a dream about you, in this dream I’m dancing right beside you…
ANSWERS HAVE BEEN POSTED IN THE COMMENTS SECTION
1- Ma hip-hop will rock and shock the nation like the emancipation proclamation
2- Light me up a cigarette as I strap shoes on my feet
3- I took her home to my place, watching every move on her face
4- Everyday I thank god for roses, they’re the closest thing to perfect next to you
5- And now we meet in an abandoned studio
6- High on Diesel and Gasoline, psycho for drum-machine
7- When you’re on a holiday…
8- At night I can’t sleep, I toss and turn, candlesticks in the dark, visions of bodies being burned.
9- There must be something in the way I feel cause she don’t want me to feel
10- A man walks down the street, he says why am I soft in the middle now?
11- We live on a mountain, right at the top, this beautiful view, from the top of the mountain
12- Cause if you try sometime, you just might find, you get what you need…
13- Sitting here resting my bones, and this loneliness wont leave me alone
14- Everything has changed, absolutely nothing’s changed, take my hand…
15- Doing all the don’ts and never looking back is the way I ought to be
16- We gonna Dance all night to this Dj, sugar, dance all night to this dj..
17- Oh yeah you’re skin and bones
18- Coming to ya, on a dusty road, good loving, I gotta a truck load
19- I must have died and gone to heaven cause it was a quarter past eleven
20- Dark as the night cold as the ground as the circular solitude of my heart…
21- Making love in the afternoon…
22- It’s always tease tease tease, you’re happy when I’m on my knees
23- I used to go out to parties, and stand around, cause I was too nervous to really get down
24- One good thing about music, when it hits you feel no pain, so hit me with music, hit with music, brutalize me with music.
25- People try to put us down…
26- Very superstitious, writings on the wall…
27- Well I guess what they say is true.. I could never spend my life with a man like you
28- when I’m walking , I strut my stuff and I’m so strung out
29- So wide you can’t get around it, so low you can’t get under it
30- Last night I had a dream about you, in this dream I’m dancing right beside you…
ANSWERS HAVE BEEN POSTED IN THE COMMENTS SECTION
Thursday, December 23, 2004
one track mind
SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX
Do I have your attention now? Can I go off on a rant? Good… we’ve got serious issues here in Bahrain; everyone’s a sex addict… People getting turned on from staring at lingerie shop windows, while others are checking out jailbait at shopping malls, gold diggers ready to exchange a little nookie for a Gucci bag, we even have cases where a guy catches a girl having sex with someone and then blackmails her to have sex with him or risk her reputation being tarnished… everyone… male or female has their ass checked out here… we’re a vile and sick society when it comes to sex… What makes it so is that all of this happens behind closed doors… It’s all a big secret this sex fetish we have… We’re really a nice culture and great society, honest… So why does this all happen? Is it too much or too little religion? Is it the fact that we segregate our schools or is it because we don’t segregate our schools enough? Is it because we’ve adopted too many western ideas and that are clashing with our traditional views? Is it the fact that we’re in denial that we have a problem? I think it’s a little bit of everything and it’s a matter that needs to be brought out to the open…
Girls here want to get married to get out from under the rules of their parents, so they can finally start living. Parents are so quick to get rid of their daughters, that they’ll marry them off to anyone with a little bit of money and fake persona… Guys are so horny that they’ve resorted to lying to girls about marriage to get into their pants, and girls are so horny that they believe them… People get molested every day: at the office, at home, at places of worship, everywhere… are you disgusted? There’s a lot more… Homosexuality is rampant and that’s fine (can’t get upset over someone’s sexual preference), but people here actually distinguish the “homo” as the person who ‘receives’ not the person who ‘administers’… that’s what makes someone gay or not? You gotta be fucking kidding me… and these pretty boys go for shocking more than just being… I mean is it because you were so repressed that you need to resort to expressing your sexuality in such a blatant manner? Has society done this? Telling you it’s a sickness? Homosexuality has existed for centuries, come to terms with it don’t push it underground…
Oh, do everything but preserve your virginity dear… no one likes damaged goods… you fucking hypocrites, I can go stick my dick in anything with a heartbeat, but she can’t find out what sex feels like? (but she does, it’s just that she’ll do everything ‘butt’ let you break her hymen). The manoovers (thanks BMD) you have to go through to meet someone… Everyone here lies, everyone here is not honest with themselves or with anyone else… Our society dictates how we’re supposed to think, yet we all think like animals, so what does that say about our society? Married men cheating on their wives, while their wives sit there quietly taking it all, repressing all that pain. Wives substituting money for love, leaving their husbands with the task of satisfying themselves… Or are we that much worse than anywhere else..
Girls getting harassed walking down a street; expatriates getting harassed on the street, anyone getting harassed… When did we all become such perverts? Or have we always been perverts? There’s so much more, I can go on and on for days… Prostitution is prevalent; the oldest profession in world still barely makes the newspapers, and everyone’s feigning ignorance… What a great excuse ignorance is… when are we all going to wake up and realize how this is affecting us? Life can be so much more than flaunting what you’ve got on your cell phone… The onus is always on the woman to cover herself up, to not entice my sex enraged hormones… And why is this the case? That it’s always my sex enraged hormones? People here consider me a sexual deviant, and that the woman needs to cover up, needs to be careful walking down the street, needs to hide her beauty, because apparently, I can’t just admire it, I need to fantasize to it… Is this what people want me to be? A predator? Or am I supposed to live in such fear for my loved ones that I need to constantly remain on guard the whole time? What are we all about?
I gotta say there’s a lot of good to us, it’s there you can see it for yourself on a daily basis, we just need to get out of this thing we’ve fallen into… find the funk and unleash it people…
Do I have your attention now? Can I go off on a rant? Good… we’ve got serious issues here in Bahrain; everyone’s a sex addict… People getting turned on from staring at lingerie shop windows, while others are checking out jailbait at shopping malls, gold diggers ready to exchange a little nookie for a Gucci bag, we even have cases where a guy catches a girl having sex with someone and then blackmails her to have sex with him or risk her reputation being tarnished… everyone… male or female has their ass checked out here… we’re a vile and sick society when it comes to sex… What makes it so is that all of this happens behind closed doors… It’s all a big secret this sex fetish we have… We’re really a nice culture and great society, honest… So why does this all happen? Is it too much or too little religion? Is it the fact that we segregate our schools or is it because we don’t segregate our schools enough? Is it because we’ve adopted too many western ideas and that are clashing with our traditional views? Is it the fact that we’re in denial that we have a problem? I think it’s a little bit of everything and it’s a matter that needs to be brought out to the open…
Girls here want to get married to get out from under the rules of their parents, so they can finally start living. Parents are so quick to get rid of their daughters, that they’ll marry them off to anyone with a little bit of money and fake persona… Guys are so horny that they’ve resorted to lying to girls about marriage to get into their pants, and girls are so horny that they believe them… People get molested every day: at the office, at home, at places of worship, everywhere… are you disgusted? There’s a lot more… Homosexuality is rampant and that’s fine (can’t get upset over someone’s sexual preference), but people here actually distinguish the “homo” as the person who ‘receives’ not the person who ‘administers’… that’s what makes someone gay or not? You gotta be fucking kidding me… and these pretty boys go for shocking more than just being… I mean is it because you were so repressed that you need to resort to expressing your sexuality in such a blatant manner? Has society done this? Telling you it’s a sickness? Homosexuality has existed for centuries, come to terms with it don’t push it underground…
Oh, do everything but preserve your virginity dear… no one likes damaged goods… you fucking hypocrites, I can go stick my dick in anything with a heartbeat, but she can’t find out what sex feels like? (but she does, it’s just that she’ll do everything ‘butt’ let you break her hymen). The manoovers (thanks BMD) you have to go through to meet someone… Everyone here lies, everyone here is not honest with themselves or with anyone else… Our society dictates how we’re supposed to think, yet we all think like animals, so what does that say about our society? Married men cheating on their wives, while their wives sit there quietly taking it all, repressing all that pain. Wives substituting money for love, leaving their husbands with the task of satisfying themselves… Or are we that much worse than anywhere else..
Girls getting harassed walking down a street; expatriates getting harassed on the street, anyone getting harassed… When did we all become such perverts? Or have we always been perverts? There’s so much more, I can go on and on for days… Prostitution is prevalent; the oldest profession in world still barely makes the newspapers, and everyone’s feigning ignorance… What a great excuse ignorance is… when are we all going to wake up and realize how this is affecting us? Life can be so much more than flaunting what you’ve got on your cell phone… The onus is always on the woman to cover herself up, to not entice my sex enraged hormones… And why is this the case? That it’s always my sex enraged hormones? People here consider me a sexual deviant, and that the woman needs to cover up, needs to be careful walking down the street, needs to hide her beauty, because apparently, I can’t just admire it, I need to fantasize to it… Is this what people want me to be? A predator? Or am I supposed to live in such fear for my loved ones that I need to constantly remain on guard the whole time? What are we all about?
I gotta say there’s a lot of good to us, it’s there you can see it for yourself on a daily basis, we just need to get out of this thing we’ve fallen into… find the funk and unleash it people…
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