Death to the “A” Student

Don’t you just HATE people OBSESSED with grades and ONLY grades?! 

Those self proclaimed geniuses must be peed upon and dragged through a pool of poo before being ignited and burnt to death. Yes, I am talking about them treacherous, imbecilic excuses of human beings who claim they have the God-given right to dominate the class through their “intellect” and memorization abilities.

And, typically in this part of the world, they’re the Hijabi girls with attitude problems. You typically see them boasting on how much they pray on time, how everything should be prim and orderly and proper, and how dedicated they are to their studies and predestined schedules.

Admittedly, there could be found some admiration in their determination to be achievers. If only they could drop the self centered attitude, and their obsession with grades.

There is one in my class, and, for better or worse, I am with her in a group project. The course is on management (like pretty much else in this degree), and therefore I am exercising my managerial skills in utilizing her OCD and grade obsession by giving her the green light on handling the “tough jobs” – because, according to her, she “doesn’t want to be blamed for the other potentially sloppy parts”. Apparently her sense of team work has eloped with her understanding of achievement and fled to someone else. With two more people in the project, my role typically transforms to the Negotiating Diplomat.

Now here is an example that truly pissed me off. After a midterm – which of course she had been preparing for for two weeks (while I on the other hand found out about the exam a week prior) – she came up to me to ask about how well I did. I told her I did the best I could do given the amount of material I had to cover in a week. She discussed all the questions with me – 3/4th of which were numerical – and her grin widened with every incorrect answer I gave.


The next week, when the grades were out, she was appalled that we both took the same grade. She told me explicitly that it is illogical and unfair that she should study more than I did, get all answers correct, and we both end up with the same grade. I sympathized with her, myself wondering the same, though I knew the case study questions had something to do with it. She was so upset about it she kept reminding me of her disbelief at 10 minute intervals.

For the record, I was given a good grade because as I was solving I knew the numbers I was giving were incorrect and have explicitly stated how the trends should be, and noted some error in the calculation somewhere (through question marks and sad faces, of course). So the professor knew, at least, I understood the material.

Just yesterday I was telling her that we are putting too much effort researching on supply chain management (we read over 30 papers), especially that people do their PhD on the wide-open subject while we were doing a mere introduction to it. She simply answered “no we put the right effort, we will get FULL MARKS” shortly followed by “inshalla”, in case she ends up jinxing herself.

Now I understand grades are important, if you’re factoring in scholarships, future admissions to universities as well as the “excitement” in being called a “Cum Laude” (what were they smoking!). But there’s more to passing courses than grades – namely understanding the material, interpersonal relationships as well as appreciating other human beings on the same boat.

ZOMG My Room Circa 2005

Was browsing through some old photos and found this shot of my dorms back in 2005 LOL! OMG I can’t believe the feathers were not aligned symmetrically! This is such a كركبة and عجقة and so unOCD *dies*.

Starting from the left I had one of the many speakers all attached to my then-funky laptop for videogaming and movie purposes as well as one of the many campus flags I “permanently borrowed”. Hamza, having been on the Dean’s List for so many consecutive semesters, felt like I do deserve to be on the Dean’s List but the stupid Math courses kept bringing my GPA down. So with his generosity he donated to me one of his Honors Banners. Awww!

Center stage is the main desk which houses several useless items like Spawn and some other odd robots as well as various medals and medallions (one of which was donated to me in NYC 1997 LOOOL). Below you can see some of the greeting cards I received on my birthday or at random (don’t you love them random cards?).

Below that I kept the books I used the most… good thing I had more novels to read than school books hehe and please take note of the slingshot (which was put into use).

The heart pillow was given to me by a girl I loathed so I used it to support my bum and for it to mute my farts and contain any malodorous traces :D

The منشر الغسيل I got from Ikea on Christmas, and I taped it to the desk and hung family photos there as well as feathers because you know family على راسهم ريشة … loool!

And finally on the right I had the stuffed animal collection (not shown for obvious reasons) as well as the prayer corner (as you can see my from my prayer rug). The other side of the room had my tidy bed and my reading corner which resulted in my flunking several Calculus exams (and Calculus courses). The good that came out of it was that it was there I was inspired to begin writing short stories several of which got published :D

And there you have it!

Five People You’d Want to Maim

This week I will be celebrating the anniversary of my 5-year stay in the UAE by introducing to you a bunch of completely bizarre human beings who give a reason for the “homo” in “homo sapiens”.

When I was in university, one of those days my friend Hamza was told he would be entering the ACM competition in Cairo or Kuwait or wherver it was, that was not important. Before he left, he introduced me to an oddball by the name of HK, and not, that’s not a fashion brand. Immedietly we hit it off, and as everything that sparks quickly, it ends even quicker.

This guy had serious, serious issues, all of which are unfortunately in his rather intelligent head. When you hear him tell you his story you cannot even agree to comprehened the amount of shit this guy went to, all before the age of 17. I mean, no offence to Oprah, but this guy’s issues could beat hers everyday. But unlike Oprah, who took an active role in changing the universe, all this guy managed to change is the casing of the battery charger on his laptop (techinically he just taped it). He kept to his room, protecting himself from the throat-drying, coarse atmosphere of the Earth. He’s probably sensitive to all the CFCs and ozone depletion, although the grave of a vampire dating 1,000,000 BC would have fresher air than his room. Eventually this guy became the Ghost of the Dorm, and his infectious sleeping disorder has spread through whatever ventilation was there and rendered all the resident of the dorms wakeless puppets. Resident Evil indeed.

The only friend (other than me) who the Ghost had is Sa3adet El Safeer (translation: His Excellency) Kilo Gel. Imagine Al Gore. Now imagine Al Gore going into a gel factory and directly pouring that day’s harvest onto his pulp of hair. Now groom it with the finest brush into a mullet and you get an overweight dildo with a fancy hairdo you can only find in high-quality European porn. His Excellency Kilo Gel is also a pedophile as he preys on unsuspecting freshwomen. He is now sadly married to a woman who probably is so desperate she would marry Al Gore. The Gore in the name is there for a reason, you know.

If he isn’t the one preying on the freshwomen, it is Mr. DJ-WannaBe-OMG-Look-at-my-hair. If His Excellency had hair problems, at least it was on his head. WannaBe has body hair problems. He has only one string of hair which wraps around his whole body in a disgusting black cocoon. Being deprived love and affection in childhood tries his best to impress everyone with what he assumes is DJ. He needs to update his dictionary or he’s probably looking up the word “Fucked Up Loser” and following the definition. Heck, we might as well suggest to Oxford to have “Fucked Up Loser” as a definition to his name. I mean, if Rachel Ray can get a word as ridiculous as EVOO into a dictionary (what was she thinking?) we probably can coin a much more useful word to be used in and out of the kitchen.

WannaBe has his own circle of friends, all of whom are more mentally handicapped that a 1 hour old fetus. Two in particular are VW-On-Fire and PMSing Unpaid Bitch. VW-On-Fire has serious ego problems, and is the opposite of Wannabe. This guy got SO much attention in childhood and he doesn’t even consider the possibility that he is more worthless than a piece of dry shit with 99.9% discount in the $1 store. Talk about walking with your nose up high – this guy’s nostrils are aimed at a 90 degree angle from his body (that’s horizontal if you’re still calculating). Since of course his face would be positioned so that he only looks up, he probably hit one too many archs, mailboxes, glass doors, and a WannaBe that a brick has more IQ than he does.

Of course, each campus needs a news broadcaster, and this is where PMSing Unpaid Bitch comes into play. She literally has no former life, and she lives on other people’s miseries, and if they are happy she would make them miserable. She would create dramas that put Spanish soap operas to shame and center then around herself. Then she expects sympathy out of everyone so that they tell her their secrets, then she goes and broadcasts them like a military loudspeaker. And don’t start with when she doesn’t get laid. ROCKET FIRE!

There are just too many to mention and keep track of in one blog. I’d write about the rest some other day maybe. Till the next episode of the celebration, don’t be like any of the above people. I’d hate you. I’d hunt you down and let you eat your own placenta. Even if you’re a guy.