I didn’t put in the “du” reference on purpose but it does sound funny LOL!

I got my visa, finally, and I am a student again! My classes will start first of Ramadan, so I decided that since I’m not getting richer by being unemployed I might as well go see my family now since I can afford it!

So in a few hours I will be eating koosa and I will be hearing granny’s story on how I got tied to the chair leg when I was a toddler so I don’t go hug the sobya (heater) in winter (I had a fetish for anything warm. Thinking about it, I still do). I would be hearing that story for the billionth time but it’s always as good as the first time.

Not to mention it’s good for my early age alzheimer I seem to develop!

See you in two weeks!

Ramadan Mubarak Everyone!


What? Huh? When? Why?

Relax, I know it is in a month lol! But since ALLLLLLLLLLLLLL of you would be posting the same, people are gonna say ‘another Ramadan post!’ and copy paste comments. Qwaider of course will complain about the iftar timings in the West, especially now that it is summer and the sun in higher latitudes probably never goes down, and propose a Micro$oft $ilverlight $pon$ored $olution (thats a lot of $pon$or$ship). I think I will block my atheist cousin off MSN for a month LOL! He keeps trying to convert me. That infidel.

In any case, you can learn about Ramadan over many places, but moryarti summarizes eloquently here (and on a humourous note, here). If you wanna start learning how to cook, no better than abufares‘ wonderful, but obtusely detailed recipes. You can have a preview of some of the meals here.

Nice surprise eh? My supreme sense of intelligence with Forecast feature based on historical data (where is the effing TM symbol on iPhone?) told me I should post it a month earlier and shock you out of bed.

So, opposite-of-belated Ramadan Mubarak!


I’ve been on this ridiculous diet for “weight gain”, rather muscle gain. See, since my biological makeup is impossible to deal with – I got what I asked for. I gained fat. As in FAT, not muscle. And my makeup dictates that the fat be in the belly exclusively.

Which is OK, I mean I am a guy and I don’t have body dysmorphic disorder and I am in very good shape knock wood.



I can’t breathe or anything. This new expanded orbit is a bit new to me. So I said I might cut on the carbs a bit and increase the protein intake. It was good for a while. I felt healthy, ate in moderation and it was all fine.

Till this week.

Through this week I have been tired and my performance at the weights has been horrendous, not to mention I fatigued quickly. My body obviously needed the lovely molten chocolate cake from Chilis.

Which moryarti pointed out today over lunch that I need more carbs.

So I just had my first McDonald’s in a century. Then I went to Cinabon.



If I were in the States I would sue every single healthy website on the planet. CARBS WERE CREATED TO BE EATEN OK! I demand my carbs and I demand them NOW! No more stupid hideous apple/banana before gym. Heck for dinner I used to eat three giant loaves of Arabic bread with 3 eggs, 4-8 cheese triangles and labneh. With my stupid diet I eat all of that with one (so I had to lick the labneh off my fingers). Hideous!

My belly wants a fight?! I will give it a fight! BRING ME THAT CAKE!

Why I Hate Little Girl Ghosts

Today, I embark on a journey to the past, to face my demons once and for all… a journey that will lead me to the farthest reaches of my rather humble brain, to the very back, way beyond Moogle/Natasha/Vladimir/Betty (yes you only get to see Moogle)… to a locked up memory I dare not disturb.

We’re going to Universal Studios!

The year was 1992. I was a young wee lad who had a really bad habit of having my scrotum out of my underwear so that when I sit down people can see it through my shorts. I would have loved to post a photo here as proof but I will keep it till when I am comfortably married. I think I’ve disturbed the wrong memory.

Moving on.

Yes, it was 1992 and we were in Orlando, Florida. I recall how I memorized the US city names by transforming them into some sort of demented Arabic or after something familiar. Tennessee was aptly named tel7asi for instance. Orlando was Jumaru. Philadelphia was feel ad alf feel (an elephant like a thousand elephants). You wouldn’t wanna know what Texas was, but it had to do with the above-mentioned memory. Ah, 1992 was the best year of my life, second only to 1997. That was when I had my first wet dream and I was in someone else’s house.


texas is on the other side of the map

So anyway, my dad thought it would be a wonderful idea to educate me on how horror films are made. I didn’t know what a movie was (I thought TV was acted in real time, and I was always shocked at how people can instantly change their outfits in a music video between scenes). I also didn’t listen to the horror part in dad’s speech. Sure, I did go to a haunted mansion in Disney but I knew it was fake (I was explicitly told it was) so it wasn’t terrifying (except the elevator part, which is why I hate elevators, unless they’re posh).

We sat comfortably in our seats in an enormous ampitheatre. It almosed looked like a colosseum but anything looked enormous to an 8 year old. The lights slightly dimmed except for a gigantic spotlight on the stage, where a guy talked about a bunch of stuff I didn’t listen to. I wish I did. There was also a gigantic screen that looked like a colosseum too, right above his head, reproducing his figure to, well, collosal proportions.


that screen was awesome. i would never see such a screen until i went to the movies in 1997

Then a little girl with black hair and white robe – the mother of everything terrifying – appeared on stage, smiling, and sat on a chair next to the guy who has been breathlessly talking about something I wish I listened to. The girl looked like that bitch from the first Exorcist.

Then, it happened.

The girl was smiling on the big screen until the guy plunged a cleaver into her forehead.

I went like this O_______O


bitch and i have similar expressions, but i didn’t have a cleaver in my skull


Then the blood started pouring out and that bastard took the cleaver our to show us that there is a semi-circle carving that fits her head. I was supposed to understand that he didn’t actually split her head but rather just an illusion. But, no, for me I interpreted that part of the cleaver was left in the skull.

Which is why he plunged it again to retrieve it and started cutting through her head, while the girl was screaming in pain.


that damned cleaver

I was beyond mortified. I just witnessed homicide. That little girl was having a blast that day till she had a cleaver through her skull. It then dawned on me that they do this every single day! This was it for me. This is where they butcher kids who have upset their parents.

I almost reached the tipping point where I was about to burst into tears when this happened that would change my life forever:

The little girl stood up, took the cleaver out of her head and walked off stage.


This did NOT happen.

This is officially the Little Girl Ghosts Factory, where little girl ghosts will haunt me for the rest of my life, to this very day.


when presented with such edifice, run!