habby new year

habby new year boys and girls!

dentists don't know jack

and not because they drill holes into our teeth and cause us pain. i mean they reduce the pain when it's severe, but otherwise, they're just a sorry lot. i've had the misfortune of using several dentists, because the first one just couldn't solve my problem. neither could the second one, but i remember him pointing out all the wrong things the first one did. of course i lived in recurring molar pain and decided to visit another dentist a year later. shockingly, he said that the work that was done was not good, and redid it. he also proclaimed my dental hygiene to be one paralleled only by gods of dentistry themselves. drill drill fill fill polish polish and i was on my way. the molar filling was too high so i promptly (the next day) visited another dentist to get it fixed (it hurt like hell). again, i listened with complete rapture as she explained how whoever fixed my molar missed a cavity (see that dark one, that one needs fixing) and how my gums were inflamed and needed a clean up. i was devastated - i had such high opinion of my oral hygiene.

sbeak jordanian blease

why work?

to make enough money to buy this

answers.com

this won't make sense to my constant reader. to answers.com, you know what i'm talking about.

i didn't know this was my last trip, on this broken, rugged excuse for a road, in the back of the rumbling truck. not the rumbling truck, but a rumbling truck, one of hundreds i've used in the tens of (semi-successful) border crosses i've performed before. i sure wished it was my last trip, not without guilt, but without regrets. except one: packing more food. it was cold, i hadn't eaten for two days (unless one had the audacity of counting a dried semilunar crumb of bread and gulp of milk food, in which case the beginning of my fast was lunch of yesterday), and i had at least two more days to go before i got to safety. six days to travel four kilometers. i sat here in my misery, watching a piece of halva discarded in the truck's bed with a mixture of disgust and gluttony. i wondered if it were any more sapid than the bread i had yesterday. the only warmth i had was in the crate of contraband i was sitting on. the epitome of smuggler praxis: we cared more about the stuff than ourselves. at least i wasn't doing it for money, for i believe the cargo is mantic and will deliver us from injustice. well its application will, at least, because, you know, having almost been killed a few times and watching your family killed in front of you adds a certain measure of cynicism and pragmatism which can only be appreciated by those who truly have nothing to lose. or maybe that's my lick and a promise excuse for not taking part more directly in our war, but in the zeitgeist, any resistance is better than no resistance. what serendipity it would be to the enemy that a random shell should kill this divine warrior, and rid them of his evil, and what serendipity it would be to him, to bring him ataraxia. in the meantime, this warrior is eying the halva again, wondering how long halva would keep in this cold.

the facebook pose

i believe one of the most important aspects of the social change facebook has brought about is the facebook pose. i'm not talking about people posing for pictures specifically for facebook, regardless of how creepy the idea is, i'm talking about the pictures people use for their profiles. there are several variants of the pose.

the most popular is the product of haphazard crops on photoshop. you can recognize these by the usual lack of the body one side of the face (where the posers friends once stood/sat/hugged/etc).

the second variant is the "am i being photographed? do i seem completely blase? is this a picture of me but you can't recognize it's me?" picture. these are meant to take the edge off of the egotistical premise fb pics usually generate, but usually end up being silly.

the third variant is the non-me pictures. also some of these are interesting, the most would be better spared some of the rest. examples include flags, cars, babies or some other cheezy item

crow road

She turned to me, during that night, and said, 'Prentice?'
'Mm-hmm?
'Do you think Rory's ... away the crow road? Do you think he's dead?'
I turned on my side, stroked her flank, smoothing my had from thigh to shoulder, then back, 'I really don't know,' I admitted.
She took my hand, kissed it. 'I used to think, sometimes, that he must be dead, because otherwise he'd have been in touch. But I don't know.' There was just enough light seeping in past the curtains to let me see her head shaking. 'I don't know, because people sometimes do things you'd never thought they would ever do.' Her voice broke, and her head turned suddenly; she pushed her face into the bedclothes; I moved over to hold her, just to comfort her; but she kissed, hard, and climbed on top of me.
I had, up until that point, been performing an agonizing reappraisal of the indignant signals of total, quivering, painful exhaustion flooding in from every major muscle I possessed. My body's equivalent of the Chief of Engineering was screaming down the intercom that the system just wouldn't take any more punishment, Jim, and there was no doubt that I really should have been pulling out and powering down just then ...
But, on the other hand, what the heck.
the crow road - iain banks

talented

would anyone listen to elissa's songs if she didn't have big boobs that she likes to show off?

don't shake your head

caution: racist entry

ever seen an indian pressing the buttons on an elevator? for some reason they always press both the up and down buttons. when they get in, right after they press on their desired floor button, they frantically start pressing the "close" button. and when the elevator almost reaches the desired floor (with almost i mean still in motion but slowing down) they start fratically pressing the "open" button. the question that presents itself: did they never notice that no matter when (or how often) they press a button, the outcome is the same?

they also tend not to step a single inch outside what their work is. examples (to name a few): i went to have iftar with a friend the other day, we ordered a soup and two main courses. they delivered two bowls of soup, to which i reacted "we only ordered one" the guy was "sir this is complementary". nice service, until after we finished the soup they served me my soup. again. i mean, wtf? the other night i was at a bar, and i ordered a virgin mojito "sorry sir, we don't serve that" but i was "why?" he was "only normal mojito" so i was "ok, just prepare a normal mojito and throw the rum out" he was "sorry sir, you need to speak to the manager". again i say, wtf?

how oh how did they get an atomic program together? i mean, you know how they do a cross between the head shake/nod when asked a question. "did you deliver this?" nod/shake "is that a yes or a no?" nod/shake. "ganesh, is that safety device on the thermonuclear warhead secured?" nod/shake

eid al fitr

habby eid boys and girls

pretty people rule the world

despite that your mom and dad told you, being pretty makes life easy. and i don't mean in the way a hot girl would get the empty seat on the bus or would smile her way out of a ticket, but in the way the hotter girl will get the better job. i don't think employers do it consciously (choose the prettier candidates) or are even aware that the looks affected their perception of the person, but they do. but it's not a bad thing, because pretty people tend to get the deal. ever seen a tall, well-built guy give a mediocre presentation? imagine a short, chubby, ugly or smelly guy giving it. see the difference? maybe not, but it's there. a handsome face tends to be more convincing, pretty eyes make mistakes more easily forgiven, bullshit makes a little more sense coming out of a full pair of lips.

pretty people get the promotion, they are presented to customers, they do it.

life in short

short people have it easy in life. when taken to scale, everything they do is blown out of proportion and they seem to be doing more. ever seen a short guy running on a treadmill? they seem to be making a great effort, huffing and puffing and moving in fast-motion, but a quick glance at the speed and you'll see that they're doing average. short guys giving speeches/presentations? if there's no one around, when they move their hands around, or stand on their tip toes when excited, they look really motivated. even the screen behind them looks bigger. the list goes on, but it's clear. when you're small, small achievements looks grand in comparison, so go ahead little people, run!

how to create a great play

the characters: white prince (whose father dies at the beginning but somehow doesn't become king himself), the princess (the white prince's promised wife? shouldn't she be a queen too?), the evil counselor, the dark prince, the good goddess

the places: the inherited kingdom, the palace, the evil labyrinth of caves, the perilous road, the fishermen's village

the great magical inheritance (i kid you not): the painstakingly ornamented astrolabe, the flourishingly sheathed khanjar (dagger) and the exquisitely flawless magic pearl


the plot: if you can't figure out the plot thus far, maybe you should go see the play

all the people of the world

there's a group on fb with that title. can it be any more generic? i mean unless monkeys develop the skills needed to use fb, that group includes everyone using fb. what does the group talk about? people stuff? world stuff? what pictures does it include? is it just random pics of people?

people have too much time on their hands.

btw, fb is facebook.

do ya speaka inglesh?

there are few sights in the world as entertaining as two non-native english speakers trying to communicate in english. between the long "uuuuuuh"s and the "mmmmm"s, followed by ill-conceived hand gestures (try describing an ampitheatre using your hands) and the verbal descriptions of words like therapy ("you know, healing") and museum ("you can go and see old things"), it's like two 2 year olds trying to debate contemporary physics theories.

so what kind of situation is more entertaining?

when the two are in love. this couple i know, i'm not sure, but i think they're in love because they don't understand each other. i know them both quite well and i'm telling you they don't mix. of course she wears the pants and he whines like a kid, but hey, maybe that's why they're in love.

and i must congratulate myself, this is my first conscious without a point entry. congratulations.

now you listen?

so you've hit the wall, you lost the money, you lost the girl, your heart was broken, you lost the job, he got conned, you failed the exam (or passed it)

you don't understand, you thought you had it, you knew you had it, but didn't

you lost the deal, you slipped, you hurt yourself, your heart was broken again

he was an asshole, he was mean, she was a bitch, she manipulated you, you thought you were happy, but guess what

you sneezed, you coughed, you yawned, you dropped the ball

i thought i told you so

shocking news

from the radio:

"a recent study from university of cambridge suggests that females are interested in money and males are interested in looks when looking for their potential partners. the study observed a group of speed daters and noted that the men would call every other woman, whereas the women would call one out of three men"

no shit.

conflict resolution

conflict: i'm in the office and one of the people sitting next to my desk is noisy as hell. when he drinks, he "ehhhhhsss" and "aahhhhssss" and he makes all sorts of gurgly sounds when he sits, stands up, answers the phone and generally breathes. he's also fat and lazy.
resolution: grab ponytail and yank head down, precisely insert pen into throat. gurgling will increase momentarily but then subside for good.

conflict: driving along the road, i encounter an idiot who thinks that he owns the road. he's driving between the lanes, he's slower than the general flow of traffic and he's on his phone. he's wasting oxygen breathing.
resolution: slightly nudge left-rear corner of car and watch it go into a spin. keep fingers crossed that it will crash into a fatal accident.

conflict: rj decided to install self check-in terminals, a dream of a timesaver. i entered my detailes, scanned my passport, confirmed everything, and at the very last step, the machine told me that it's out of paper. idiot working at the airport, sweaty and short of breath, "sorry, these terminals are closed" and i was "but why place 6 of them if they're not working" he was "the computer is loaded and the system isn't working". no you dumb fuck, the system is working, but the machine is out of paper.
resolution: fill machine with paper
yeah, right.
resolution: grab tie, yank and jam into luggage conveyor belt. watch the color drain out of his face and his skin turn blue. wait till he stops kicking and proceed to queue with the rest of the technophobes.

sad but true

you don't really appreciate constipation until diarrhea hits you

you didn't realize how lonely you are until you were treated of your split personality

you're not good looking enough to get girls, but you're not ugly enough to use it as an excuse

great minds don't think alike; an idiot coined that phrase to revel in the glory of his fellow idiots

the internet 1.1

of course the americans also do this:
http://www.afsc.org/iraq/movie.htm

life of a nerd 1.1

just discovered this:

http://www.informationarchitects.jp/slash/ia_trendmap_start.html

the internet

what arabs are using the internet for:
downloading amma na3eemeh ringtones

what americans are using the internet for:
using youtube to post videos of questions to presidential candidates for the 08 elections

life of a nerd

this past week i would categorize as "unleash the nerd within" week.

i installed linux and spent the week trying to make it play nice with windows. some success. some failure. try these websites out:

www.ubunut.com (linux distro for the beginners, like myself)
www.fedoraproject.com (another linux distro, nice and bluish, also for beginners)

of course, beginner here is a relative term. if you're one of those people who still right-click to copy/paste and have the need to minimize everything before opening a new window, linux is not for you. in fact, install linux without knowing what you're doing and you can kill your computer. please do. oh, and when you do, go to www.linuxquestions.org for help. you'll need it.

i also came across the internet's periodic table (pretty cool, but the name is misleading)

http://www.wellingtongrey.net/miscellanea/archive/2007-06-23--periodic-table-of-the-internet.html

it is a nice place to browse if you're not internet savvy (see, there are sites other than facebook)

if you like to "see" everything, check:

http://www.technorati.com/

i found it overwhelming and confusing, but it may me your cup of tea.

my favorite nerd-quencher is:

http://lifehacker.com/

möbius

seriously, the following is not something from a cheesy science fiction movie:

The Shape of a Möbius Strip

E. L. Starostin & G. H. M. van der Heijden

The Möbius strip, obtained by taking a rectangular strip of plastic or paper, twisting one end through 180^°, and then joining the ends, is the canonical example of a one-sided surface. Finding its characteristic developable shape has been an open problem ever since its first formulation in refs 1,2. Here we use the invariant variational bicomplex formalism to derive the first equilibrium equations for a wide developable strip undergoing large deformations, thereby giving the first non-trivial demonstration of the potential of this approach. We then formulate the boundary-value problem for the Möbius strip and solve it numerically. Solutions for increasing width show the formation of creases bounding nearly flat triangular regions, a feature also familiar from fabric draping³ and paper crumpling^{4, 5}. This could give new insight into energy localization phenomena in unstretchable sheets⁶, which might help to predict points of onset of tearing. It could also aid our understanding of the relationship between geometry and physical properties of nano- and microscopic Möbius strip structures^{7, 8, 9}.

http://www.nature.com/nmat/journal/vaop/ncurrent/abs/nmat1929.html

misplaced charity

"... and how women in particular could display a sort of theoretically laudable but harmfully self-sacrificial kind of misplaced charity when they saw somebody damaged"

word abuse

a number of poor people some years ago were creative enough to invent witty phrases that people use beyond abuse.

fusion: whenever anything from the west is mixed by something from the east, fusion happens. wtf! mixing weird spices together and calling it creative fusion is not creative. gay cooks and lame musicians love this word.

this is not a science, but an art: no idiot, it's a science that you'll do as well as any artist if you practice, unless you're referring to actual art, in which case you're either that dumb or are trying to be cute. people of any craft like to brag with that phrase.

this is not a threat, it's a promise: fucker a threat is a promise, only one of injury or pain. very popular with actors who think they're bad.

compare apples to apples (more commonly combare abble to abble): i think this is the one phrase people abuse more than any other. i'm in the telecom business and for God's sake people stop using this phrase. we get it, you're smart, you've had experience in the world of business, just please, please stop using this phrase. anyone with half a brain uses this phrase.

travel

so returning to dubai from amman, i was lucky enough to be the first people into the gate are after they opened it for boarding. i quickly scanned the area and strategically sat next to the door leading to the plane, to avoid the lines leading forming there. i sat down, place my jacket next to me and got my book out.

a few minutes later the guy announced the flight was boarding. i closed my book, put it back in the bag, collected my jacket and got up. the queue had already formed. what the fuck. it was like the people were all wired to go, a moment after the announcement was, well, announced, you could hear a moment of silence, when people made sure it was their flight that was being announced, and practically dashed to the door. i am still amazed.

i am also entertained by the way people traveling walk. they have this determination on their faces, this purpose to their walking. they all have serious (or tired) expressions yet they all walk in a quick, hurried way, rather reminiscent of early black and white movies. you see serious events taking place (the first flight, opening of an important building, etc), but the people move quickly and the whole time you're thinking "look, they look just like charlie chaplin"

can't let him go

the first time you noticed the snake creeping out of the sleeve of his t-shirt. not a real one, of course, but a tattoo adorning his muscular arm. he had this thing about him, this air of indifference that beaconed you to go forward, to introduce yourself, to hook up. you'll turn his indifference into love and care.

the second time it was the beard and long hair, tied in a ponytail. the worn-looking leather jacket, the air of restlessness. this was a man who never felt at home wherever he was, who had the wind blowing in his hair. he barely glanced your way, he was too busy nurturing his drink, he looked right at home in this bar, like the countless others he's been to. he will find home with you.

the third time the artist in him was practically screaming at you to seek him. he played the guitar, wore black t-shirts and when he looked at you he saw right through you. he was, after all, the band's songwriter. he's been with more groupies than he can remember, but none of them are you, none of them have your style and grace, none of them can make him settle down.

the fourth time it was his experience at life. he runs, he walks, he flies, he drives off-roads, he scuba dives, he sky dives, he's been half around the world seeking adventure. you can't stand the prickle on your arms, the tingle in the back of your throat when he's close. you can't believe how great he is, how he's been there and done that. he'll take you with him from now on.

why you always end up in tears is beyond you. why every time you give him a chance he ends up hurting you is a mystery to you. why you're attracted to him all over again every time you see him is tiring you. you know he's not good for you, that you need someone mature, a real man to take care of you, but you're just not attracted to them. and as you're wiping the last of your tears, as you're dusting yourself off, you see him again, and this time he has this tan, dark eyes, darker hair and his girlfriend by his side. and the tingle is back.

my colleagues

on destruction

It was the Archimandrite's conceit, where a severe lesson had to be taught on a planet capable of supporting such a mark, that a city by the sea, which was either itself guilty of resisting or judged by him symbolic of resistence shown by others on the planet, be remade in the image of his beloved Junch City, back on Leseum9 IV. If a people would resist him, either while undergoing conquest or enduring occupation, they would suffer, of course, but they would be part of something greater at the same time and they would, even in death, even in the death of much of their city, be the unwitting and unwilling participants in what was, indeed, a work of art. For here, seen from this hillside, was there not a new Faraby Bay? Was that slot through which the waters thundered, shaking the ground, not another Force Gap? Was that piling tower of steam, first drawn straight up then stroked to the horizon, not a kind of signature, his very own flourish?

Iain M. Banks
The Algebraist

publicly held

i have shares in a publicly held company. they're not many shares, enough to make me curious about the way the prices are going but not enough to make me worry about the market overall. i get invitations to shareholders meetings every time they're held (albeit i get the invitations a few days too late). now owning a very minor share in a company and getting invited makes me feel special, part of a bigger whole (no matter how insignificant i really am).

what's more interesting is the way that public companies are scrutinized by their shareholders, on a quarterly (3 month) basis. profits are down, people sell their shares and the company is screwed. profits are up too high (that is, above projections) and people sell their shares because the company can't seem to manage itself and will get screwed the following quarter. too many screw-overs and the ceo is gone. more screw-overs the board is grilled. accounting scandal? bye-bye cfo.

so in a publicly held company every shareholder can affect the flow and decisions of the company, as per their share, the managers are scrutinized every quarter, mishaps usually means that heads will roll, and you can't screw around.

sounds to me that they're better democracies than most modern countries.

pipe prases

for those who deal with filipinos, you will need to learn the following:

pox = fax
sarpar = server
compo pipe = combo five
conpicuration = configuration
pipteen, pipty = fifteen, fifty

i love you

it's not that i don't trust you, it's just all the guys you talk to. i mean, if i knew them, i would be totally ok with it. so yeah, i'd appreciate it if you didn't talk to other guys.

no, no, no, i don't want you to stay home all week long baby. i understand that you have long, stressful working days, but so do i. and you have to understand, the thought of you going out and people seeing you out and about, makes me really uncomfortable. i mean, i'm not there to protect you and make sure you're safe. i mean, go out with my friends if you want, i really wouldn't trust other people.

of course you can chat with other people, that's what msn is for. i just mean that when i'm there, i really hate it when you're not 100% focused with me. of course i don't talk with anyone else while you're around. yes baby, i love you.

glittering lies

so the question i would like some form of answer to is: what the hell do girls see in gold?

i've had the displeasure of going through a shopping trip in dubai's gold souk. the heat, the throngs of indians, and, of course, the gold. i mean the amount of ugly yellow is mind-boggling, tons over friggin tons of it. and all looking the same, all so ugly. but even then, the biggest mystery remains the fascination the ladies have with it. again, a cultural stereotypical fascination with what it means rather than what it is. it's yellow metal, for fsm's sake.

but no, look at me, i'm wearing a kilo of gold, that MUST mean something.

colorful noose

humans are idiots.

humans invented the tie. did you ever notice how absolutely ridiculous a tie looks untied? it's a long, useless piece or colorful cloth, and only something as meaningless as humans will get the idea of tying it around one's neck. here, let's pretend we have a hanging with this colorful noose.

it's 2007, idiot

that the fuck is wrong with dj's and their obsession with 80s music. These "hip" dj's who think that starting their sets with a mix of 80s songs make them more popular, who think that somehow playing shitty crap from that God forsaken decade will brand them as cool. you idiots, people dance to that shit literally out of desperation, for the lack of anything better to do, and even then they do so hovering around their tables or while idly sipping their alcohol. the 80s was perhaps the worse decade in history, and those who think that it's cool to be associated with it in any way just watch an mc hammer video

in the eye of the beholder

caution: gay entry

our preconceived notion of beauty is warped by modern culture, and with that i don't mean what we see as beautiful (since beauty IS what we perceive as beautiful), but the rarity of such an occurrance. (warning, cliche) tv, movies, mags all portray beauty as a common thing, something one finds among friends, colleagues and family, when in reality that in its true form, inside a person and outside, it is rarely, if ever, found.

can they be any cheaper?

dubai is practically exploding growth-wise. there is construction everywhere, it's noisy, it's dusty, the roads change every other day and people get lost trying to get around the detours.

at these increasingly annoying road construction sites, there are usually warning signs, with big, yellow flashy lights that form arrows that point you either left or right. but why pay for those when you have cheap, dispensable labor? in almost every road construction site i've been through in dubai, there is an indian standing there waving a red flag. i mean the guys stands in dubai's pleasant weather for a full day and waves a red flag. i've also seen some indians wiping the dust off plastic barriers that keep cars outside the construction site. i mean by the time he got to the last barrier, the first one will need to by wiped again. so there was a barrier wiper guy. flag waver and barrier wiper.


how cheap are these guys? cheaper than a sign?

too busy to write

i'm really pissed off that i have nothing to write. i'm actually too busy to write. i miss the days when i had a laid back job.

fing fakes

so some "fancy" restaurants serve evian as their default water option (of course, places that just assume you want water think they're fancy to start with). being sensible enough as not to pay 6 dollars for a bottle of water, i always ask it to be replaced with normal water. i was at one of these arrogant places which exclusively serve evian (the place is in the food court of a fucking mall, how fancy can it be?), so they brought the water and i stared at it, silently judging the place. but hey, the group i was with wanted to eat there so there we were.

when the water was served two of the group asked the waiter if they had other types of water, and he was no, only evian. i was pleaseantly surprised, seeing that were some sensible people left in the world. my joy, however, was short-lived, as when the waiter left one of those who objected stated i don't like evian because i feel it's really heavy. i blinked, but as i was reeling from the first shock of vanity, i was quickly knocked again with oh, my problem with evian is that it doesn't quench my thirst. i was dumb struck.

it's fucking water, you fake idiots. you can't tell the difference. it's water and it quenches your thirst and it's just ridiculously expensive. you're not water connoisseurs, you just think you know what water tastes like.

just for its own sake part deux

salsa is another thing people do just for its own sake. there's a very important difference, though: instead of a horse between your legs, you get girl.

i mean there was this ugly motherfucker who wouldn't normally get the nerve to even talk to a girl prettier than he (and that's almost all girls out there), and he was dancing with this girl who looked like a character our of baywatch (and dressed to match the role, too). his hands were all over her, hugging and stuff. if you're a guy and you're straight, you would wholeheartedly agree with this: the only reason guys take on salsa is the hot girls.

just for its own sake

riding horses.

this is one activity that people learn just for its own sake. in fact, riding horses is one of the things that exist just for their own sake. i'm not talking about professional riders or racers or even cowboys and ranchers, i'm talking about people who go once a week to ride horses. they exist, i swear. i mean i understand millionaires who own their own stables and breed horses, or ones that deal in them or some other wealthy hobby like that, but those poor soles who take their poorer kids out to ride horses.

stop.

you are wasting your money and your children's time. they will never need that skill, unless you or they turn out to be extremely wealthy, but the way you're treating them that's not gonna happen. or they decide to become riot police. or the oil suddenly runs out and we can't use cars any more. they're all unlikely scenarios. leave your children be. let them do useful things, like driving, playing video games, playing real sports, hell even lounging on a couch watching tv, maybe they'll learn a thing or two. real things.

video @ the onion

Breaking News: Something Happening In Haiti

how to write a cover letter

some idiot thought that by sending out random emails (with his cv and a cover letter) to business contacts he can get a job. below is the letter.

Dear Sir/Madam,

My name is Ahmad Tawalbeh.I am a mechanical engineering student at Mo`ta University. Never the less I have postponed studying this semester due to personal circumstances. I am seeking a job.I`m a hard worker and ambition. I have good English, I also have good people skills and have experience in teaching. And am welling to work under pressure.

Attached is my C.V.

Thank you for taking the time to read my letter.

Sincerely yours,

Ahmad Tawalbeh.

things you'll never see

a cool cricket player
a poor golfer
a modest surgeon
a steady-headed indian
an american who looks good with a mustache

people in death

why is it that we wait for someone to die to realize what a great person he is?

"this occasion is too sad to let pass without comment, so i would like to share a few words about sameer. sameer was a great person who brought smiles to everyone around him. he was always the life of the party, the spirit of a team, the shoulder to lean on. he was brave, strong, could move mountains. literally. i saw him shove a mountain because he didn't want to walk around. his social life was never impacted by his ability to fly, as he always hung out with his friends after performing rescues impossible were it not for his ability. in fact, more than once he helped my find my keys using his x-ray vision. sameer, you will be missed"

how to sell a car

graffiti

ever notice the "graffiti" in amman?

the top graffiti sprayings in amman are, in ascending order, as follows:

3. usually on an wall or something near an empty lot of land

alardh lilbay3, min almalik mubashara, mobile 079 xxx xxxx

2. in front of garages, especially in areas where there are mosques, restaurants, etc

arraja2 3adam alwuqouf huna, madkhal garage

1. all over the country, the reason of its popularity still eludes me. i mean, how many farms are out there? and why are none of them fenced?

ltashyeek mazari3akum followed by a mobile number

advice

advice is a myth.

i'm pretty sure i read (or heard) this somewhere, but people don't
really ask for advice, they just want confirmation from other people
for the decisions they make. i am currently wrecking my brain for a
single time when i've given advice that was contrary to the person's
leaning and was followed. it doesn't happen. people will argue, will
explain, will try to win your approval (or at least sympathy) but will
not take your advice. unless, of course, it's what they've already
decided. you can see them messing up, the end result is right there in
front of you, but no, they have to try their way and fail.

if you're reading this and want to ask me for advice, think twice if
you're just looking for comfort. first, i'm brutally honest so i'll
say it as it is, and second, take my advice. trust me on this, i'm
right and you're wrong.

culture is important

a few years ago, i had the displeasure of taking part in a tv program that "interviews" students who were actively using theater for education. apparently, the bitch host moderating the program just needed someone to pat her on the back because of all people she realized that theater is the source of all the progress of the human race. in fact, how dare i disagree with her and mildly state that theater, in fact all culture, is a product of progress, not the other way around. there was someone else in the "interview" with me, and she was more inclined to agree with the bitch host, but still, the episode never aired.

that was years ago, while i was still at school. it just hit me the other evening while i was driving through shari3 ithaqafeh (culture street) in shmeisani. the street is physically beautiful, but like all things in our backwards culture, it is so forced it makes absolutely no sense. see the concept of culture, as sometimes defined, is the intellectual product of a civilization. so logically, a culture street should be the spontaneous expression of emotions, feelings, art, or any other intellectual content of a culture, which happens in a place where those "expressors" gather, which the government then tries to preserve and encourage (like graffiti in the us and some european countries) through labeling that place as "cultural". but not in our sorry societies. i hear of things such as the royal film commission, or other sorry excuses of creating cultural aspects for our society, when the reality is nothing like that.

very simply, culture is spontaneous, it is not something the government can decide to create. it can create schools, theaters, spend ridiculous amounts of money and label streets as cultural, but it can not force culture upon the society.

i mean, shari3 ithawafeh speaks for itself.

people are assholes

up until about 3 months ago, i lived with the assumption that i'll eventually work with people i respect and like.

but people are assholes.

this great cultural phenomenon called work forces one to do many things one may see as less than savory (waking up early, going to meetings, stressing, etc), but it also forces one to deal with a wide array of people. but the more people one meets during work, the more apparent it becomes that people are assholes. i mean, out of every 20 i meet, i think 1 or 2 are tolerable, and 1 out of every 20 of those i'll take the liberty of calling a friend. i mean even the "brightest", "smartest" and "nicest" of people are incompetent assholes who really don't deserve any consideration of entering into the realm of humanity.

confused

if you ever wonder why it's impossible to peacefully go through airport security, check the below. it really is confusing.

frayed ends

watch the short movie he's sick

www.frayed-ends.com

(btw, it's my idea, so i'm in the thank you credits)

out of office reply

these are for real, i got them from my work correspondence

Hospitalization Temporarily.
My critical contact = Cell, 404.xxx.xxxx for URGENCIES only. As permitted.

I'm out of office from March 26th to April 10th. Emails can't be read and will not be forwarded.

jumeira jane

1000
lazily wakes up, yawns, stretches, wonders what she'll do with her
morning. she gets out of bed, looks at her reflection in the bathroom
mirror, and decides it's time for another lift.

1100
showered, training clothes on, it's time for the morning jog. she
calls marina mandy and sets up brunch.

1230
she steps into mall of the emirates, different training clothes on,
meets up with mandy, and they head to columbus for brunch. skimmed
milk latte, low carb salad, green tea. a little shopping.

1600
hubby will be home soon. she tries on all she bought, decides to
return half of the stuff, tidies herself up, calls the doc to setup an
appointment, bosses the help to prepare dinner.

2100
had dinner, time to hit the scene. meets with the rest of the girls
for drinks and gossip. hubby too tired to join, but it's ok. kisses.

2330
go home, sleep, prepare for tomorrow. yoga? sushi? yawn. doesn't matter.

the onion

did i ever talk about the onion before? it's in the links to the right.

www.theonion.com

to know what I'm talking about...

Bush Announces Iraq Exit Strategy: 'We'll Go Through Iran'

WASHINGTON, DC-Almost a year after the cessation of major combat and a month after the nation's first free democratic elections, President Bush unveiled the coalition forces' strategy for exiting Iraq.

but my personal all-time favorite:

U.S. Intelligence: Nukehavistan May Have Nuclear Weapons

WASHINGTON, DC-A DIA report suggests there is “a possibility” that former Soviet republic Nukehavistan is manufacturing nuclear weapons.

enjoy..

bfd

so the office you work at is fancy. bfd, the people you work with are assholes and your boss is a shithead.

you work hard, you make lots of money. bfd, you don't have time to spend it.

you have a nice car. bfd, you need to drive it between morons and idiots and broken roads.

your trophy wife, hot, sexy, dumb as hell. bfd, you can't talk to her about anything deeper than a shopping orgy.

you're smart. bfd, all you do is a 9 to 5.

you're think you're shit, but you really aren't shit.

bfd.

post 101

this is post number 101. i didn't celebrate post 100, which was the free gift one.

habby 101st bost, boys and girls.

free gift

call us now to claim your free gift! not the gift you have to pay for, but one that is free! imagine, a gift that is free!

caution! danger!

driving along the dubai - abu dhabi highway (a long and boring drive) i noticed a red side in the distance. actually there was a number of them, on both sides of the road. as i got closer i realized that they're warning signs, cautioning me against the high voltage lines running above the street. you should see them, they're quite impressive: written in block capitals, white letters on a red background, with many exclamation marks. 400 kv (400000 volts, scary).

i'm really glad they put these signs up, because they discouraged me from trying to scale the power towers and dangle from the high voltage cables. or, like many people, i like to sling exceptionally good-conducting wires at the cables, since it's really cool to see the
sparks that fly from that. but you know where their value is highest? they remind us of the dangerous radiation present in the area, so as to use the radioactivity protection conical hats (the ultra-cool ones with a tin-foil layer).

thank God for warning signs.

not alone

his breathing never really slowed. he thought that by walking through the rain he would cool down, that his tension would ease. but his anger was too great, too determined to let him go. his fists were clenched, his nails digging deep into his palms. his breathing was calculated. and heavy. like an iron pendulum it raised his chest and lowered it. his walk nearly matched his breathing. with determined steps he pushed the way behind him, every step taken to restate his anger. his frustration. he didn't walk quickly, or slowly, but with the intentional steps of rage barely under control. with every step his sandals hit the wet ground his body got ready for the next one, raising his foot to relink it with the ground a few feet further. the rain flowing down his hair, face, clothes, eyes, nose, ears and toes didn't slow him down. he was drenched but didn't notice. he didn't notice the dark either. he was shaking with rage, not cold.

when he approached the other he didn't see him at first. not because of the dark, but because he didn't see him. the other was slightly slower, walking with a casual stride, his sugegasa shielding him from most of the rain. when he saw him his first thought was sheep. sheep, cattle, all to the slaughter. he felt his breathing slow a bit. he was gaining on him. he felt his breathing slow and he heard the rain less and less, his footsteps further and further away. his breathing slowed, his hearing lowered and all he could see was the other. his sugegasa, his casual stride, the sound of his footsteps. to the slaughter. sheep. he was gaining on him. he grasped his katana's tsuka. all he could see was the other, all he could hear was his footsteps, with his heartbeat faintly in the background. his training had taken over. when he was but an arm's length from him, his katana left its saya, in a round motion that went from bottom to top, from kidney to shoulder, both his hands precisely gripping the tsuka, a matter that took a blink beginning to end.

sheep to the slaughter.

death of a blogger

i'm vain and selfish. i believe in equal shares (that is, i am vain as a i am selfish).

as such, i would like to announce that specsan is no longer among us (bloggers, that is). nice thing about blogging is that people get resurrected all the time. as such, keep tuned in for spec's blog (just don't hold your breath).

if you're a fan/friend of spec, please pour your anger in the comments section below. i promise to read every one of them and wonder what you're hoping to accomplish being angry at a virtual character.

lovers' hell

i hate valentine's

i hate the red. i hate the hearts. i hate the over-priced roses and the cheezy chocolate boxes. i hate that chics expect some sort of recognition of this totally artificial commercial scam of an occasion. it's not enough that their schizophrenic personalities keep us on our toes 95% of the time, some idiot who wants to sell greeting cards decided to make that time feel like a relaxing holiday. i hate that people congratulate each other and that it's impossible to go out because of all the special offers restaurants have. i just absolutely hate it.

habby valentine's day, boys and girls.

going gray

my father's hair went gray in his early thirties. now you need to understand that hair on my dad's side of the family is used to roughly describe the coarse substance growing on their heads. the up part is that they go gray, not bald, so it's a mixed blessing. on mom's side it's soft, smooth hair. they have the tendency to go bald (at least my uncles and grandpa).

i inherited the bad hair. when i used to cut my hair mom used to gather it to use it to scrub out stubborn spots around the house. my girlfriends had to wear leather gloves to "stroke" my hair. but, deep down inside, i was consoled by the fact that at least i won't go bald. the few gray hairs i have near my temples tended to confirm that. but to "handle" my hair i shave it off every couple weeks.

recently i let it grow longer and all my bets were lost. it turned out my hair is thinning. i really wanted to have gray hair rather than no hair.

undead mummies

as i was walking down the long tunnel which is the main bulk of dubai's international airport, and passing rows of chairs which are placed there for the comfort and convenience of weary travelers, i noticed something out of place. among the chaos of the travelers, on the floor beside the chairs, were bundles of blankets. the blankets were vaguely human-shaped. i stopped to further investigate.

now you must imagine the picture. there were tens of these mummies thrown along the tunnel, all placed in intricate positions to allow as many of them to fit along that line, all wrapped in different-colored blankets. i got closer to one and was rudely shocked by a movement under the blanket. there were people underneath! they were sleeping, wrapped head to toe in the blankets. literally. don't they suffocate? do they live there? is there a creepy mummy-nation resident in dubai's airport? the look of the crowded bathrooms seemed to confirm that theory (i had to stand in line to pee, and that's in the men's bathroom, the business lounge was literally over-filled and people were being sent away!)

if you're ever in dubai, make a note of that, they really ARE there

backwardness knows no boundaries

i've honestly though i've seen it all with the wedding procession on abdoun bridge, but on a relative scale last night i've seen something much, much more backward. again, this goes to show you that nothing; not money, exposure to foreign cultures or anything apparently can fix backward nations. shamefully, it's the nation of which i'm part.

i was driving down szr (sheikh zayed road), which happens to be one of the main roads in dubai last night. the road is 5 lanes of beautifully flat dried petrol. to those who don't know dubai, this road is like a main artery in dubai, so it's always packed going one way in the morning and packed going the other in the evening. but around 10 it's nice and free. last night i was going home around 2330 and i was doing a comfortable 120 when all of a sudden the traffic slowed. around me i was seeing crazy people in cars waving uae flags and honking and shit and my first thought was "we must've liberated palestine!" but it turns out the uae beat ksa in a soccer match. wtf is wrong with these people? don't they realize how insignificant that is compared to anything worthwhile in the world? to go around all patriotic like it was a great national victory is silly, but hey, people are entitled to their pet peeves.

that, of course, until you realize how backwards they are.

the traffic kept on slowing to a complete stop. a couple hundred meters ahead smoke starting rising. white smoke. the sort of smoke that burning rubber makes: not fire burning but donut burning. the fucking idiots slowed the traffic, blocked all 5 lanes and started doing donuts. they blocked a fucking highway to do donuts because they won a soccer match. can we blame hitler for wanting to burn us alive? after what i saw last night i feel like burning myself in an oven.

dubai traffic festival

that is what the people living here call dubai shopping festival. although this isn't true because dubai's traffic is nightmarish all year round, trying to do shopping in that sale is an absolute nightmare.

mind you, i hate shopping. it's such a burden and i have no idea how females stand it. i buy clothes as to not look like a bum (although i end up looking like one anyway). it's my brother and mother who pushed me to shop. now if shopping sucked before, it was absolutely horrible this time. see, there were sales and we were near the end of these sales.

the shops look like their storage rooms have thrown up in their showrooms. clothes, shoes and accessories all compete for the limited space which is usually empty outside of the sale season. you have to literally dig through piles of clothes to hopefully find something your size. which reminds me, when did guys shrink as to that an xxl doesn't fit me? i know i'm big but what can obese people do? wrap themselves in blankets?

then of course there are the hoards of shoppers. i know the prices are reduced but the shit isn't for free. i think the concept of paying for less is attractive, regardless of how much the stuff actually costs.

idiots (including me).

karaoke

karaoke means empty orchestra.

we were the first people to arrive at c-bar, so we had our choice of songs, but those who came in after us were really unfortunate. when my turn came to sing, the place wasn't crowded enough to drown my voice, so during my song i could see people running out of the place with their hands covering their ears with what looked a lot like horror covering their faces. i couldn't tell for sure cuz i couldn't hear through my singing, but i think they were screaming in anguish. when the first one ran out i turned around to check if there was a fire or something behind me, but apparently it was only me they were fleeing.

i didn't mind, i had a blast. in fact i decided to bestow my voice upon these people every week.

new hijri year

habby new hijri year, boys and girls.

it's been a war here in dubai, since the government decided that the public sector will get sunday off instead of saturday, but the private sector will get nothing extra off (except lazy companies like ours, he3). the public opinion is hilarious:

concerned newspaper reader: "if the gov wants more locals to join private companies, what kind of message will this be sending out?"
sami: "dear concerned idiot, if one is thinking about joining the private sector and is having second thoughts because in the days of the public sector he had an extra couple days off a year, i think the private sector will be better off without him"

other reader: "how come the public sector gets an extra day off? does that mean they work harder than we do"
sami: "no, idiot, it doesn't, it means that they work less than you and that extra day is just further proof of that concept"

long days, pleasant nights..

soleil

ok cirque du soleil is one of the best experiences you can go through in an adult lifetime. i've seen it on tv but to see in real life is something else. it leaves you absolutely spellbound. i really really REALLY enjoyed it. if you're reading this and in dubai drop everything and go buy a ticket NOW.

yalla.

what are you still doing here? go. go, yalla.

sex on wheels

ladies and gentlemen i found heaven on earth. and it's not having sex in a car but it's the cars themselves. i have never been as happy, excited or ecstatic as i was watching a car race in dubai.

it was a 24 hour race, with three classes of cars. of course the gt3 class was the kick-ass one (mostly porsche gt3's with a single bmw z4). the sound of the cars quickens your pulse no matter who you are, the speed, the cars, the smell, the noise of squealing tires. orgasmic. did i mention the noise? man that was the part that absolutely amazing.

pics, of course, are below. yummy.

dirty windows

how excited do you think people can get about windows being cleaned? check this out (btw there are three elevators, each with a similar notice and similar replies. the funniest was "i can see again!")

deinternetized

i've been without internet for 5 days. i have 75 emails in my work inbox and 30 in gmail. not a fun day.

in other news, i have three new entries, so there you have em.

city mall

ah, back to amman. i love that city, despite its recurring patterns of self-inflicted injuries. the story a friend of mine sent me only confirms my suspicion: there's something wrong about us (ammanites).

the story is of that of city mall, a new mall in amman. those ammanites reading will feel a familiarity that only comes from living there. btw specsan was added as an author here but after she thought it was men's non corpus i had to remove her. sorry specsan, it's nothing personal.

so here goes (abridged, cuz it's a little long):

"a new mall opened in amman, city mall, well actually one part of it, carrefour hypermarket. yes and people have been hyper about it and are pilgrimaging to it. you know, i have been ashamed when i visited it as far as the mall in the whole is concerned. ... and inside, my horror was only magnified. we do usually have better interiors than exteriors. ... a sad sight was when i passed a not-yet-open shop beside carrefour and it had heaps of dust above its extruded logo.
... judging the prices of stuff i buy from their other store, i know they can afford a cleaning person. ... [my personal favorite] places like mecca mall and city mall are the black holes of amman. they just suck the main players in city life: human beings who find little forms of urban public life. sometimes, they can't be blamed. after all i hit these places. "

there's more, but these here just go to show you that it's the same crap, over and over.

nolenvfemino

i got an email from nolenvfemino yesterday, and i read it. following is the content:

sender: nolenvfemino@googlemail.com
subject: Re: my radioactivit

body:

Well that macho fat thug Svinjar for one. King of the Machmen. Then

Ten seconds, no more, I admonished. Survival was a harsh

I turned and looked at Iron Johns giant throne.

Oh-so we have remembered it at last. Dont you want to know what it

just as completely as you are.

choice.

I already know, I said.

could stumble over they had lifted him and were following the guard,

reached down and opened a valve and I could hear the gurgle of liquid

Horse-but no rider, I said.

and an arm in a sling. The aged artifact lay on the table before them

i couldn't stop laughing after reading it. i know it's spam and i know it's a smokescreen, but damn i've never read anything funnier. "survival was a harsh". it's a nice, yeah?

pick-me-up

you know there are many fast fixes for bad mood: indulge in a bucket of ice cream (or other comfort food), shopping sprees, female company, etc, but i discovered one that will instantly make any normal person feel better: buying a sword.



i bought a sword a few days back. i real, old, antique sword (not sure what kind of history it has, but damn it looks cool). i grinned like a fool that whole evening i got it. and when i see it i smile and pull it out like i'm about to decapitate someone and nearly ruin a sofa and tear down the drapes.



an excellent experience i'd recommend to everyone. if you have ideas of what to name the bastard i'm open to suggestions.

please explain my husband, er, me as a husband?

that's the title of a book (the first part, that is, but it sounded like i'm gay so i added the second part) that explains why men act the way we do (sorta like the mars and venus book) and clicking here will take you to an overview with some thoughts. women, oh dear, crazy women, get a hint.

happy new year everyone!