Posts Tagged ‘miracle’

What’s this? A miracle, you say?

August 3, 2012

Why yes. Yes it is.

I’m not going to even mention the nine-month time lapse between this post and my last. Even though I just kinda did. But you know what I mean. I SWEAR I’M NOT DOING THIS ON PURPOSE, OKAY?! Twitter is sucking the life out of me and my phone is so smart that my laptop has become obsolete. Hence, the long period of silence.

But anyway, speaking of twitter, let me get straight into my next point: I’m actually tricking you into thinking that this is a real post when in fact, it’s one of my lazy, half-assed attempts to be proactive. Basically, I’m cheating. Because this is yet another¬†predicted tweet¬†post!

“You guys are sick. Please don’t have this eye sickness in the nineties.”

“I wonder if you know I’m actually a vampire. I don’t wanna ruin it for gym tomorrow.”

“I can dream. I can try. But I declare purple as your profession.”

“I get that my hatred runs deep. I wonder why this is true.”

“I wonder why I have no energy left. Am I a day apart?”

“Hahahaha omg I wonder if my face will be in a stabbing spree.”

“I wonder why everyone is fantastic!”

“I wonder what I am. Perpetually.”

“Oh god, the graveyard thing wasn’t you?!”

“Lies. Watch something better. WHY IS THIS BETTER?!”

“I wonder why this sandyness magically disappeared from my shin?”

“I wonder why Penelope treats Amadeus like a delicious free kick.”

“I wonder if my locker smells like pineapples and seaweed today.”

“I’m not cranky! Lies.”

Yup, so that’s it. The drawing thing might happen again soon. So stay tuned!

A real Christmas miracle!

January 4, 2011

Christmas day, 2010. We were getting ready to go to John’s house for a delicious Christmas dinner with him and his family. Ma was taking her sweet-ass time (as usual), so Ten and I decided to go out and take some pictures because we were both really bored. And we looked cute.

Ma still wasn’t ready, so I put my stuff on the sidewalk and Ten put her little purse on the car, and we got like, really into the whole picture-taking thing. Apparently I’m a shitty photographer, so Ten was giving me lessons on how to take the perfect headshot without making someone look like a mutated fetus.

Anyway, eventually Ma came out, so we jumped in the car and sped off because we were running late. John’s house is like, a 25 minute drive from our house, and I had just managed to find the perfect parking space when Ten started freaking out in the backseat. “Oh my God. Oh my God! OH MY GODDDD!” Ma and I both looked at each other, trying to figure out what was happening.

“Oh my God! Where’s my bag?!”

“Dude, it’s there somewhere, calm down.”

“No, Ona, it’s not here. Oh my God!! Where is it?!”

“Stop freaking out and check under the seat. Jeez. Maybe you left it at home.”

“No, I didn’t leave it at home, I had it with me when we were taki– OH MY GODDD!”

“What?”

“I left it on the fucking car!”

No jokes, everyone. She left it on the car. And I drove off. And now we were 25 minutes away and an hour late for dinner. So I seized control of the situation and told Ma to get out of the car to stall John and them, and then as quickly as my little wheels could carry us, Ten and I drove back home.

Meanwhile, the entire car ride, the only thing I’m hearing is “Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod…” although I was convinced that the purse was still on the ground right outside our driveway, because we have like a kajillion bumpy-ass speed bumps, and there’s no way it could’ve hung on for long. Furthermore, it was beaded (so it lacked any form of friction), and it’s not like it would be stolen, because our community is really cute and safe and all that. If anything, I assumed it had been taken to security at the main gate.

Fast-forward to when we got back home: It’s nowhere to be found. Ten is like, pooping her pants at this point, because the purse contained her local phone and her Blackberry, along with other small trinkets like her favourite chapstick.

We checked the garage, we checked in the bushes, we checked under cars parked nearby, we checked at the main gate and the back gate, we asked the little maintenance guys… Nothing. It was gone. So now Ten is pissed like woah, because not only did she lose her Blackberry, her other phone, both sim cards, and her chapstick, but we were also lank late for John’s dinner. It was a shitty, shitty Christmas disaster.

Having run out of options, I checked the roof of the car. Just in case, you know? And sure enough it wasn’t there either. But I CSI-ed that shit and noticed that the direction of the swipe marks suggested that the purse slipped off while I was taking a right turn. Knowing this didn’t really help, but I felt a little bit cool.

Then Ten was like, “Well, can you like, call my phone? In case it’s nearby and we just can’t see it?” Now I know you’re probably wondering why we didn’t just do that in the first place, but the thing is, 1) When phones get stolen, sim cards are immediately removed so there’s no point in calling, and 2) In case it was on the street still, I didn’t want to call the phone and draw attention to the purse until we got there.

Anyway, I decided it couldn’t hurt, so I called her phone.

“Hellooooo!”

“Uh, hello? Did you find this phone in a bag somewhere?”

“Yes! I find and try telling you but you no hearing!”

“Wait, what?”

“Outside mosque! You drive, I see it fall, I signal but you no looking me!”

“Oh okay well, can I come get it?”

“Yes, tomorrow I report duty and I come and then bring.”

“No dude, listen. I’m coming to get it today. Now, in fact. Where are you?”

“Jebel Ali, pass Free Zone, pass new airport, take exit 13, I will waiting!”

For those of you who don’t know, Jebel Ali is in like, the complete opposite direction of where we wanted to go. It’s legit out in the middle of the desert, on the outskirts of Dubai, near the border to Abu fucking Dhabi. But without traffic it’s maybe only a 20 minute drive. Which was okay-ish.

We got in the car and headed out. Meanwhile Ten was still stressing because, “What if he’s lying? What if he switches it off now and we drive there for nothing? What if he returns the phone but already stole my Blackberry? What if he’s made like, a zillion phone calls to his friends and family in India?” I told her to chill out. It’s Christmas. Miracles happen.

We passed the Free Zone, we passed the exit to the new airport, we got to exit 13, and I called the dude back. He answered.

“Helloooo! You coming now?”

“Yeah I just took exit 13, where do I go?”

[The road split.]

“Quickly, do I go right or left?!”

“You go… straight!”

“No dude, listen. The road splits. Right or le– Never mind.”

[I went right.]

“You go straight?”

“No, there was no straight. It was right or left and I went right.”

“Ohh, this no good. You see signal coming?”

“Yeah it’s in front of me now.”

“Okay make U-Turn, come back.”

[There was a “No U-Turn Allowed” sign, but I made one anyway.]

“Okay I made the U-Turn, now what?”

[He said some shit I couldn’t understand.]

“What? Say it again, where do you want me to go? I have like three options in front of me.”

“Okay okay pull to roadside, I will coming you.”

So I pulled over, kinda explained my surroundings, and we waited. Three minutes later he called me back.

“You see this flashing?”

[A mini-bus behind me flashed his brights.]

“Yup, I see it. I’m the blackish car on the side of the road.”

He pulled over in front of me. He got out of the driver’s seat, Ten got out of my car, and they had a little conversation. Meanwhile, the entire bus emptied out to stare at the wondrous spectacle taking place before them. Here’s what apparently happened: I left the main gate of the compound, making a hard right (hurray CSI skills!). The purse fell. How it survived all the speed bumps, I’ll never know. The guy was parked in a minibus next to me, waiting for his staff to come out of the mosque across the street. He saw the slippage of the purse and tried waving his arms and flashing his lights to signal me to stop, but I must’ve ignored it or assumed it wasn’t for me. He picked up the purse and took it with him into the bus, with the intention of returning it tomorrow when they come back for work. I’m not really sure where he wanted to take it, but whatevs. Later, when I called him, was the first and only time he opened the purse. Nothing else was touched (he said) and Ten and I believed him. There were no recent calls in the call log, everything was still in its place, and the Blackberry and chapstick were safe! It truly was a Christmas miracle!

We gave the guy some money, thanked him a million times, and then started our long journey back to John’s for dinner.

Plinky

June 29, 2010

Okay so you know how I have a problem with being a regular blogger? I found a cure! It goes by the name of Plinky. And I only stumbled upon this little miracle today.

Plinky.com is a new service that generates a prompt on a daily basis, for people like me (who suffer from writer’s block) to answer. So I just set up my account, but today’s question* doesn’t apply to me, so I guess I’ll have to start tomorrow. Or maybe I’ll go through the archives and answer a previous one just to test out the service. We’ll see what happens.

*”What do you like most about your job?” – Hahaha, trick question! You can’t fool me! I don’t like anything about my job!


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