Posts Tagged ‘Omar’

A few signs that Someone up there doesn’t like me very much.

July 28, 2009

Okay so I know my life isn’t like, horrible. I mean, I’m not crippled, I don’t have any debilitating diseases (yet), I’m not living in a bunker made of palm leaves in the middle of a war zone, I don’t have twelve kids to take care of, and I’m not ugly. However, despite my gratefulness for having a relatively good life, I still wanna complain once in a while. These are my stories. *cue Law & Order “dun-dun”*

I’ve recently developed a new addiction, far worse than heroin and crack combined. My drug of choice is known only as Heroes, and it is the greatest and best series ever created in the history of television. That’s a fact. If you’ve never seen an episode, I strongly suggest you don’t. Unless you have exceptionally strong willpower, in which case you definitely need to watch it, but view with caution. Because it’s sickeningly addictive. Sign number one that Someone up there doesn’t like me. Because He/She creates this shit, knowing very well that I will not only become obsessed with it, but also jealous of everyone’s super powers. I wanna be Sylar. Minus the whole brain-cutting thing. Oh yeah by the way, I’m only half way through the first season so don’t ruin anything for me! Or I will cut your brain out.

Tomorrow, I officially become a Jumeirah slave. My duties as a lifeguard will include interacting with nasty demon children, saving them if they start drowning (which I initially thought was a joke, but apparently senior management was serious – I’m not allowed to drown kids, even if it’s with all my best intentions to make the world a better place), becoming a victim of skin cancer as I bake to a crisp in fifty-degree weather, exercising on a daily basis which translates to cutting down on smoking, waking up at ungodly hours of the morning and being forced to wear a smile at all times, and more. Sign number two that Someone up there doesn’t like me. There are some benefits as well though! For example, I get paid. But because I need to buy a car and a new tattoo, I have to save my paycheck and can’t really spend it. Sign number three that Someone really enjoys laughing at my misery.

As the end of July approaches, summer slowly rolls to a halt. August is right around the corner. In uni-talk, August equivocates to Hell. Because it’s enrollment period, and students sit at their laptops like hawks, and within the first thirty seconds of the classes being posted, they’re already full. Which means someone like me, who’ll be melting in the sun and will not have the luxury of Internet at my fingertips, will most likely have to manually enroll, which is a bitch. Because those people at the Registrar and the Cashier are kinda retarded and don’t really like me. Sign number… what are we on now? Four? Yeah, sign number four that Someone likes picking on me.

My beautiful baby princess Ten Ten is no longer with me. She didn’t die or anything, God forbid, but she’s about a billion and a half kilometres away from me right now. Yeah that’s right, on Venus, baby! No actually not that far; she’s in Boston. But still, that might as well be Venus. And it’s so not cool. It makes me want to fall to my knees in the middle of the road during a rainstorm, shake my fists at the heavens, and scream “WHHYYYYY?!” But since it never rains here, this is an unfeasible desire of mine. Signs five and six that Someone wants me to suffer.

Sign seven: my wisdom teeth are still being nuisances. For the past couple of years now, they have been embedded in my gums. But beneath the surface, they are angry little fuckers who wanna grow and take over my whole mouth. Unfortunately, there isn’t any space between my last set of molars and the end of my jaw for them to happily sprout out and be wise. So instead, they have decided to be conniving, mischievous bastards, and are growing at an angle, forcing themselves onto the roots of my other molars (who’re just casually sitting there, minding their own business). This chain of events is causing a gradual shift of all the teeth in my jaw. Mind you, it’s occurring at a glacial pace, and so far the shift is subtle and barely noticeable, but something must be done nonetheless. Crooked teeth are nasty. Braces are even nastier. And due to my current financial situation, I’m unable to get them removed. Although now that I think about it, I have a wrench in one of the kitchen drawers…

My hair isn’t growing as fast as I’d like it, I miss Omar and wanna go visit him, my photo printer decided to die on me today, I still haven’t found my sheet music, and I really wanna build a pool table, but I haven’t the supplies nor the skills. Signs eight through twelve that Someone isn’t too fond on me.

There’s more, you know. I could keep going for a while. But instead, I’ve decided I’d rather smoke a cigarette and then conduct research on how to make my own crystal meth lab in my bathroom, so that I have a supplementary source of income each month. If you’re the police, JUST KIDDING! If you’re a child, come to Wild Wadi and ask for the awesome lifeguard called Ona. I’ll hook you up. *wink*

House of Illusions

June 23, 2009

The other day, I went to Festival City with Tru. While we were smoking a cigarette, we noticed this set-up by the water called “House of Illusions” and we planned to check it out, but then got lazy and never did. It looked like one of those freaky places with weird torture chambers and wavy mirrors and shit. Like, a haunted house type thing that you usually find at amusement parks, know what I mean? Yeah. 

I told you that story to tell you this story, or dream, rather. Because I think they’re directly related.

I was at a huge house party. My mom was out of town, and my grandma gave me a curfew of “before sunrise,” which was the equivalent of around six thirty in the morning. 

At one point I was in a bedroom with a bunch of my friends, chilling and listening to music. Then Tru came up to me and was like “Yo, I’m’a go to an after-party somewhere else, wanna come? Or want me to drop you off at home?” This is at like two o’clock. So I was like, “Nah, it’s alright, I’ll find my way home later… Have fun though!” And that was that. Tru left, and I stayed with my friends.

About an hour later, this guy I didn’t know, Brian, was like “Hey guys, I’m leaving now, if anyone needs a ride home?” So this one girl and I decided to take up his offer and followed him to the parking lot. 

We got into his Jeep and started driving, to drop me off first. But when my exit came up, Brian just kept going straight. “Uh, dude. You missed my exit.” Brian was oblivious to the fact that I was talking. He just kept driving, almost as if on autopilot. No actually, more like he was hypnotised. The other girl and I exchanged worried glances and then shifted our attention back to the road. 

Eventually we ended up at a huge mansion in the middle of nowhere. “Mansion,” is an understatement. The place was the size of Dubai Mall. But the layout was weird. The “mansion” (as I’m going to continue calling it from now on) was a simple rectangular brick of concrete, three floors high, about a kilometre long, and maybe three hundred metres across. There were no windows. The front of the mansion was one of the short sides of the cube. There were only two doors. Each door opened up into a hallway that went straight to the other end of the mansion, with doors on either side of the hallway that led to rooms of varying size. To get from one hallway to the other, you had to basically go through one of the rooms in between the two hallways. To get to another floor, you had to go all the way to the back of the mansion, where a stairwell was located at the end of both hallways that led up to an identical set-up. For those of you with brains lacking in the imagination department, I’m sorry, but I can’t be bothered drawing this out for you, because it’s really quite simple.

Anyway, so I ask the hypnotised, robot-Brian what the fuck we’re doing here, and he solemnly replies “Follow me.” So we did. We entered through the door on the left, and found ourselves in the longass hallway I just described. It was a surprisingly cheery-looking place! I wandered off to explore.

I opened one of the rooms and it was completely dark. So I stepped inside and flicked on the light switch, and found myself in space! Only I wasn’t floating or anything, because it wasn’t really space, it was just made to look like it. The floor, walls, and ceiling were made of plasma-screen that projected one of those old-school space screensavers. I felt nauseated, so I left.

The next door I opened looked like some sort of medieval torture chamber slash bondage room. It was kinda freaking me out so I didn’t stay long and just left.

I kept moving from room to room, opening the doors and checking inside, until I made my way to the end of the hallway. Suddenly this chick grabs me and is like, “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be working! Don’t let them catch you!” I was all like, “Woah freakish woman, calm down. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She shoved me in one of the end rooms, and I found myself in a Barbie-making sweat shop. Apparently that was my job. I worked on an assembly line as the girl who attaches the Barbie’s head to her body. Good times.

Then I don’t remember what happened for a while, but the next thing I know, I’m speeding down a track in an orange Nissan sports car. But not a race track. Not a running track. Not even a train track. A roller coaster track. It was strange. So I did the loopty-loop and when I finished, the end station had a traffic light that connected to a major highway. Apparently driving on roller coaster tracks was a normal thing to do, like taking an exit off a highway. 

Once I connected to the main road, my car broke down. I flagged down a driver, and guess what? It was fucken Brian. He looked very pissed off. But still hypnotised. I got in the car, and we went back to the creepy mansion thing. This time though, we went through the door on the right.

Brian led me down the hallway and eventually we came to a stop at one of the doors. He knocked twice, and then we entered. This room was massive! It was the size of… I dunno, a football field! Huge! And it was full of people who looked as if they were participating in a ritual or an acceptance ceremony or something. The men were dressed in white cloths tied at the waist, and the women were dressed in white robe-like things. They were all standing in line in front of a curtain, behind which seemed to be the grand master or something. 

Looking along the line of people, I was surprised to recognise several of them. Omar was there, Tru was there with Aaron, Elise was there, Ten was there, this one girl who went to fourth grade with me was there… But everyone was in the same hypnotised state as Brian. It’s like I was the only normal one. But to be safe, I pretended to be like them, because that seemed like the appropriate thing to do. 

So I stood in line with a blank expression, like everyone else, and didn’t speak to anyone or look around or anything. As I got closer and closer to the beginning of the line, however, I noticed that some people when they entered the area behind the curtain came back normal-looking. But most people came back still hypnotised. I was becoming very curious as to what lay behind this ominous curtain.

I found out soon enough. Finally it was my turn, and I stepped behind the curtain cautiously. Harry Potter was sitting on a throne in front of me. In his hand was a bag of Skittles. I was too stunned to keep up my act of hypnosis, so I asked him, “Uhm, what am I doing here?” “That is precisely the question, my child,” he replied in a voice that luckily sounded more like Morgan Freeman rather than an annoying British boy. He asked me to close my eyes, take a Skittle out of his hand, and place it in my mouth. I did as I was told, not only because I’m obedient, but also because I really wanted some Skittles. Then, without taking the Skittle out of my mouth, I was supposed to tell him which colour it was. I chewed contemplatively for a few seconds and then declared, “Red. Definitely Red.” 

“That is correct! You are free to leave.” he said. I was very confused. What the fuck was that all about? Once I left the room, I saw the others still lingering in the hallway, discussing what had happened.

Omar and Elise were both unhypnotised, which was awesome. Omar said he had an orange Skittle and wasn’t sure whether it was orange or yellow, but in the end decided on orange, because it’s both a better colour and flavour. “Plus, orange Skittles statistically are found more frequently per bag of Skittles than the yellow ones,” pointed out some dorky guy. Elise punched him in the face and said she just totally guessed purple, and it happened to be right. The dorky guy (who was now on the floor) lifted his finger to protest, “But that means you only had a 20% chance of being corre–” Elise shut him up by kicking him. We tried to look around for more unhypnotised people we knew, but Tru, Aaron, the girl from fourth grade, and a few other random people were still robot zombies.

Soon thereafter, I woke up. And now I really really really want Skittles.

Where is my mind?

May 14, 2009

George W. Bush invited us over to a huge house party he was having at the White House. As he was giving us the grand tour, he was simultaneously lecturing all of us about how unhealthy cigarettes are.

I was in the cinema, and the previews were still going on. Suddenly I remembered that I forgot my sweater in the car, so I asked Omar for his keys and told him I’d be right back. As I was leaving the cinema, I remembered that the car was parked all the way on the opposite end of the mall, six floors down, and the elevators were out of order. So when I finally made it to the other end, I had to take the stairs. There, I found an injured puppy and decided to try and save him. But anytime I approached him, he’d run a few steps away, as if wanting me to follow him somewhere. So I did. He led me to this huge indoor waterfall, shed a single tear of happiness, and jumped to his death.

My mom and I had some business to do at Atlantis, and as we were leaving the hotel, I noticed that the sunset was outstandingly beautiful. So I told her to go ahead and I’d catch up after I took a few pictures. Standing at the pier, I was about to take the shot when this baby turtle crawled onto my foot and started crying. “Hey little fella, what’s wrong, hm? Why are you so sad?” I asked him as I was kneeling down to pick him up. With supernatural strength, he then proceeded to bite me in the ankle and fling me into this cavern full of bats. Laughing menacingly, he shouted from above me, “VICTORY IS MINE!” and then a seagull swooped down and ate him. Meanwhile, the bats were setting up for a party, and they were pretty cool with me. We played Twister, which was a little awkward. Because you know, they’re bats.

Omar and I were in some sort of old abandoned mansion, looking through the previous inhabitants’ forgotten possessions. One room was completely filled with all sorts of paper. Ancient Egyptian papyrus, chrome paper, kite paper, tissue paper, glassine paper, art paper, laser paper, recycled paper, newspaper, wallpaper... all kinds of paper! Stored alphabetically in clearly labeled drawers. We stole a few sheets and then moved on to what seemed to be a makeup room slash walk-in closet. I took some Calvin Klein perfume and a really nice ring (I think it was made of ivory). Omar stole a really nice, old-fashioned, expensive watch and some black socks.

We were having an argument with our waitress at Starbucks, because she was an idiot. I had asked for black coffee, and she brought me black tea instead. So when I said, “Oh excuse me, I asked for coffee, not tea,” her response was, “Go to hell.” So naturally, I beat her up and then we were arguing about whether there were twelve rounds in a boxing match, or fifteen. To settle the dispute, I socked her in the neck. KO. Whammy!

 

The preceding series of dreams all took place within a half-hour time frame. Analysis? Incurable insanity.

An icy wonderland

March 2, 2009

Ten, Omar, Mohammed, and I decided to go to Dubai Mall. I was driving my Hummer limousine, Mohammed had shotgun, and Ten and Omar were in the spacious back part. Which had an ice-skating rink in it. They were rehearsing.

We get to the mall and manage to find parking, grab our skates, and enter through the entrance near the aquarium. There, we had to stow away our normal walking shoes and slip on our skates, because the entire mall was covered in ice. So instead of walking from store to store, one had to skate. Which was good news for us, because only few people could skate well enough to shop in that manner, so there wasn’t too much people-traffic.

We made our way through the mall, stopping at the Adidas store to buy some french fries (weird, I know), and finally reached our destination: a huge rink smack-dab in the middle of the mall that had bleachers full of about ten thousand spectators. The show was about to start!

Ten and Omar changed into their costumes, and for some reason, Mohammed and I weren’t in the show. But we were like, crew people, in charge of music and lighting and such.

Anyway, I cross-faded the lights and Mohammed aimed a spotlight at the announcer. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN…” boomed his voice, “WELCOME TO THE THIRD ANNUAL ICE-SKATING EXTRAVAGANZA!” While he was talking, I was supposed to get my music ready for the routine, but my computer was refusing to work! I tried restarting it and everything, but nothing seemed to get my iTunes open. Which sucked, because I foolishly forgot to make a backup of the music I needed. “…LET THE SKATING BEGIN!” Shit! Ten and Omar had already taken their positions, waiting to hear the music cue, but I couldn’t get anything up and running!

“Listen loser, you’re gunna have to improvise,” I told Mohammed. “Don’t worry about it, I got it covered. I’m gunna sing the song myself,” he replied smugly. This actually did worry me, because Mohammed can’t sing for shit. Let alone in front of ten thousand people for some huge ice-skating event.

Suddenly, the music starts. What? How is this possible? I thought. It sounds exactly like the real song! With syncopation and rhythm and snare drums and backup harmonies and instrumentals and everything! I turned to look at Mohammed, who was now plugged into an amp, and he just winked at me. “Dude, seriously. This is fucking weird, how are you doing this?”

He then explained to me that because he’d heard the song so many times before, and because he’s part bedouin, part robot, he has the ability to use his brain like an extensive CD-ROM and burn shit onto it. So the music we needed was written onto his brain, and all he had to do was set up the necessary connections, and the music would play. This same procedure could be used for anything, including studying, watching movies, learning languages, memorising dance moves, and everything else one can possibly do in life. I was in awe.

Meanwhile, Ten and Omar started their routine. And they looked amazing! Ten landed the triple axle perfectly, while Omar skated backwards in front of her, matching her every move in reverse. Then came the part of the routine where he had to lift her over his head and spin on axis, let her go so she would fly through the air, then do some weird flip-thing, and she was supposed to land on the other end of the rink and spin to a stop. This is the part during their practice runs when they usually messed up. Because he’d throw her too far, and she’d end up crashing into the bleachers. So I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.

They waited for the crescendo, then he lifted her into the air, and began spinning. After eight counts, he was supposed to fling her across the rink. Eight counts came and went, but the instrumental cue never came. In fact, it sounded like the CD was skipping. But then I remembered: there is no CD! I look at Mohammed, and he’s just standing there, looking confused. “Uhm… Sorry Ona, I don’t remember the next part of the song! My brain is stuck in this loop!”

I looked back at Omar and Ten, and things were not looking good. Because the rule of skating is, you follow the music cue. There was no way Omar would let Ten go until he heard that first note of the violin. So they were still spinning spinning spinning spinning spinning, faster and faster and faster. The ice underneath Omar’s feet was beginning to crack. He was literally drilling a hole through the rink!

“C’mon Mohammed, THINK! You know the next part! It’s like da-da deeeee, dadadaaa dum… da deeeee, dabadabadaaaaaaa… Remember?!” He obviously didn’t. His brain was indeed stuck. Stupid advanced bedouin-robot technology.

There was an ear-splitting crack, and the crowd gasped as the ice finally reached its brink and shattered, forcing Omar to stop spinning. He flung Ten in the direction he was supposed to, she flew gracefully through the air, and landed on a floating patch of ice on the other end of the rink. The audience went wild! They thought this was part of the performance! Omar and Ten were now on opposite ends of the ice-skating rink, which looked more like a semi-frozen ocean, with patches of ice strewn about the place. 

Not sure of what to do next, the two skaters began making use of their small ice-patches and did their own solo performances. But you could tell it was difficult, because the ice was all wobbly and stuff. I had to think fast.

Quick as a bolt, I turned the lighting machine on autopilot and ran downstairs to the garage where the Zamboni was parked. I jumped in the driver’s seat, put it on the submarine setting, and slowly submerged under the water, completely hidden from the crowd. Once I was fully below the surface, there was another garage door that opened into the rink, but from the underside of it.

I slowly cruised forward. On the dashboard were several buttons, with various useful functions. I was particularly concerned with finding the “ice restore” button. Finally, I found it. I then positioned myself in such a way that when I pressed the button, ice would shoot out from the top of the Zamboni, to reach the surface, and fill in the gaps. I did this for the entire length of the rink, and could see that Ten and Omar were back on track, because they were continuing the last part of the routine. Looks like Mohammed remembered the rest of the song after all! Now all I had to do was get back to the garage.

I turned the Zamboni around, to head back to the garage door, but it was nowhere to be found! Apparently it was only an entrance, not an exit. And the only other door led to the inside of the aquarium, where I definitely did not want to be, because there’s like, sharks in there. And everyone knows that sharks eat Zambonis for dinner. 

I heard the muted, underwater sound of the crowd applauding frantically, and looking up, I saw they were throwing roses and stuffed animals and other paraphernalia onto the rink, indicating their extreme level of enjoyment. Ten and Omar bowed several times, and after a while, skated off. Meanwhile, I was still trapped under the surface.

A penguin swam up to the passenger-side window and gazed sheepishly at me. He then took out a piece of paper and started scribbling something on it in permanent marker. When he held the paper up to the window, I could read what he wrote: nEEd hELp?

I nodded and signaled to him that yes, I did in fact need help, and he scribbled back: wAKE up!

And then I heard my phone ring, and Muaz was calling, telling me to wake up and come to uni.

Crop circles in the popcorn

February 12, 2009

The other day (on Monday, to be exact), Omar was telling me something about how hazardous cell phones are, because they emit all kinds of weird radiation. Enough, he said, to pop a kernel of corn. So I did some research and found out that it’s actually a hoax because every article I found pertaining to a cell phone’s ability to pop corn debunked this theory. But whatever. My level of concentration was now hindered because I could no longer focus on Bayes’ Theorem and instead craved some delicious popcorn.

I went to sleep that night and found myself on a Greyhound bus in the middle of nowhere. I was getting a headache because everyone was talking on the phone, the bus driver was playing some shitty country music, and the scenery was too flat and agricultural for my liking. Plus, I was craving popcorn.

Then I got a brilliant idea. I walked to the front of the bus, pulled a gun out of my bag, and pointed it at the driver. “Just keep driving,” I told him. “All right, everybody listen up!” I shouted. “I need everyone to walk up to the front of the bus one-by-one and put their phone in this bag. And don’t try anything stupid, or I’ll kill us all!” I said, and released the safety. Immediately everyone hung up their phones and sure enough, one-by-one, starting from the front row, they did as they were told. 

After I had everyone’s phone in my bag, I told the driver to pull over, which he did, and then I jumped out of the bus and ran into the field. A corn field. A big corn field.

I kept running until I suddenly found a huge flat patch, which was perfectly circular in a creepy, alien sort of way. I quickly deducted that I must be standing in the middle of a crop circle. An excellent starting point for phase one of my brilliant plan.

I sat down and emptied my bag of goodies. And since dreams do weird things, the bag which once contained about twenty phones now contained about two thousand. Sweet. I started lining them up around the edge of the circle, pointing them outwards, toward the unflattened corn. Once that was finished, I walked through the field until I reached the outer perimeter. I then started lining up the phones around the square of field, this time pointing them inwards, towards the corn. So for those of you who are imaginationally impaired and have no idea what I’m getting at, I basically did the same thing as selecting a circle in Photoshop and then clicking Select>Inverse. Get it? Good.

Once all my phones were in place, I went around setting alarms. They were all set to go off at exactly the same time. I started with the square perimeter and then did the circumference of the circle last, and when I finished, I had about five minutes to get the hell out of there. But where would I go?! I didn’t really think that part through. So I quickly made a little trench in the center of the circle, took cover, and waited.

Three… Two… One.

The explosion was like ten times more powerful than Hiroshima and Nagasaki combined. It was ridiiiiiiculous. Popcorn just started flying around everywhere! And you can calculate that if there are about four stalks per square meter, and each stalk has about five ears of corn, and each ear has about five hundred kernels, and I blew up about a hundred thousand square meters of field, that’s… (4 x 5 x 500, that’s 20 x 500, that’s 10,000 kernels per square meter, times 100,000, that’s…) holy shit, like 1,000,000,000 kernels of corn! A billion! Woah. Yeah so like I was saying, it was ridiculous.

As the corn started popping, however, I began suffocating. Because I was getting trapped under the weight of billion(s) of pieces of popcorn. So I had to almost swim my way through, in order to surface and be able to breathe normally. But the whole swimming thing didn’t really work, so I also had to actually eat my way through. Which at first was amazing, because my craving was finally satisfied. But I quickly became full, and desperately needed something to drink. Like movie theatre soda or something. Alas, I was in the middle of Nebraska or Oklahoma or something, so there was no movie theatre around. And the nearest well was probably all soaked up by now, because the popcorn was still popping. 

Eventually I made my way to the top of all this craziness, and I could now kinda splash my way around. It was a similar feeling to playing in those huge vats of colourful, germ-ridden balls as a child. Only better.

As with most dreams, my fun had to end at some point. But instead of just waking up as I normally do, this dream took a horrible turn. In the distance, I saw a huge flying saucer flying at me at warp speed. It was honking and swerving and high-beaming me and everything. Those aliens were pissed. Like, really pissed. And if there’s one thing I know about aliens, it’s never to get them angry. Because they have laboratories and death rays and all kinds of other stuff to make your life hell.

So I quickly ducked down and started tunneling my way into the depths of the popcorn, trying to hide from the angry aliens. But their spaceship was equipped with lasers, ostensibly, and they could easily shoot through the delectable foaminess of the popcorn and kill me in no time.

Pew-pew! Pew! Pewpewpewpewpew! Pew! Pe-pew! I was under attack! No! And I couldn’t eat anymore effing popcorn because I was so full and dehydrated! What a horrible, horrible nightmare this dream had turned into. When I decided I had taken my last possible mouthful, I collapsed and feigned death, in the hopes that they would just leave. But, being aliens, they saw through my feeble plan and beamed me up regardless.

Once in their spaceship, they tied me up and I thought that was the end of me. They were definitely going to put me in a test tube or chop me up into bits or use me as a new source of fuel or something. Instead, they did worse: they lectured me. I absolutely HATE being lectured! Especially in alien jibberish. But there were subtitles (which I also hate), so I could understand the main jist of what they were saying which was that I had no right to vandalise their artwork just because I’m human and blah blah blah.

I couldn’t take it anymore. So I tried really hard to wake up. And sure enough, in the distance, I heard my alarm going off. This confused the aliens and made them lecture me even more. “Don’t think that just because your alarm is going off and you have to get up and get ready for school we’re going to let you get away that easily because you still have to pay for what you did and this this that and yadda yadda blahdiblah blah” (I stopped listening)… And then I woke up.

And the first thing I did was go downstairs to the kitchen, and down an entire bottle of water.

The unbearable shittiness of being.

February 8, 2009

I know that there are billions of sad little people in the world who are worse off than me. However, I’m at that stage of the year my life where I actually need to physically tell myself this. Aloud. To my reflection in the mirror. Let me explain:

I’m supposed to be enrolled in four classes this semester. When I was in the States, I was only able to enroll in two classes online, so when I came back, I had to manually enroll in the other two. This involves getting a piece of paper, filling it out, and getting it signed by some VIPs of my university, then going to the cashier and paying for my tuition, and presto! I will be enrolled. So I did all that, minus the whole paying thing, meaning I’m still not technically enrolled in those two classes. Midterms are coming up, and if I don’t get enrolled in the system, my marks won’t count. So no problem, all I have to do is pay and hand in that paper. But I can’t find it anywhere! I searched my house, I searched the car, I searched my friends’ cars, I searched all my bags, I searched everywhere! And it’s nowhere to be found. And the enrollment deadline has passed, so I can’t just redo the process. Which sucks. And makes me angry. WHERE IS THAT PAPER?!

Ma left yesterday to do an overseas consultancy for like a week. Don’t worry, that’s not the shitty part (just kidding Ma, *wink!* – (party at my house, people! woo!)). What makes my life literally a living hell anytime she travels is the fact that Feb becomes even more demonic than usual. Feb is one of our two cats. Tommy is nice and friendly and does normal cat-like things like eat and nap and purr. Feb, on the other hand, hates everyone, and her sole mission in life is to ruin the lives of others. Now, when my mom’s around, it’s bearable, because she actually likes my mom (kind of). But when Ma’s gone?! Fuuuuck. Yesterday, for example, I came home at night, locked the front gate and the main door, turned off all the lights, and went upstairs to get ready for bed. Halfway up the stairs, I come face-to-face with Dr. Evil, as her eyes glare at me in the dark. “Hey baby Feb, let’s go upstairs and do sleep-sleep!” I said very sweetly. She stares at me, takes a step down (closer to me), smells me for a split second, and then hisses like a devil-tiger and smacks me in the leg with her paw. “FINE!” I yelled at her and kicked her down the stairs a bit. She immediately recoils, and dashes past me up the dark stairs of doom, causing me to trip and nearly suffer fatal head injuries, and then darts into my room. “Uh, no. You’re not staying here. Get out. Go to Ma’s room and slit your wrists or something, but don’t crouch in the corner and stare at me as I sleep.” She ignored me, ostensibly, and paraded around my room, smelling all my stuff. So I left to brush my teeth and hang out with Ten for a bit. When I was ready to go to bed, I turned off the light and got nice and comfy. I set my alarm (on my new phone that actually works, yes!) and closed my eyes to prepare for the dream-realm. Suddenly my eyes pop open. I feel something walking around at the foot of my bed. Propping myself up on my elbows, and squinting in the dark, I can make out a cat-like creature. Oh, it’s just Tommy, I thought to myself. But then I remembered that Tommy was sleeping in Eri’s room that night, so my heart started racing as I realised what was actually happening – Feb was on my bed, probably rearing up for attack-mode. I tried to hide my fear and go to sleep, but she started kneading my blanket and making weird noises. So I turned on my side, hoping that if I just ignore her, she’ll let me live. Sadly this was not the case. She creeped up towards my face, smelling me and my bedsheets the entire time. When we were finally nose-to-nose, she licked my face (aww), and then hissed loudly, slapped me in the head, and bolted out of my room (boo). I hate her so much. And this is only the beginning.

For the past two days (this is day three), I’ve been having severe chest pain. And I can’t figure out what it is or what caused it. At first I thought that it was just heartburn. So I took some Tums, but that did nothing. I tried drinking milk, and again no relief. So I was like, whatever, it’s not heartburn. On day two, it intensified. And the pain is kinda constant, but it comes in waves of severity. To the point that I clutch my chest like a heartbroken woman who just lost her son in the war. And then it kinda goes away again. But it’s really strange. It feels as if I swallowed a tennis ball and it’s now stuck in my esophagus. Breathing hurts. Swallowing hurts. And I don’t know what to do about it. It’s a lot better today than yesterday, so hopefully I can just do what I usually do when I get weird symptoms, which is pretend that I never had them and hope they never return. We’ll see.

Eri had to drive me to school today. This is sort of a two-in-one problem. The first part of the problem is that I have a license and I can drive myself. However, insurance-wise, I’m not covered on my mom’s car until I get an Omani license. And getting an Omani license isn’t a simple snap of the fingers, because I’d need to start from scratch and do all the training and take a bajillion tests, none of which I have time for. Mind you, I’ve been driving illegally for like seven years, and never had an accident. But the ROP doesn’t seem to care. I have to do it like everyone else, unless I can find some serious wasta. Anyway, the second part of the problem of me not being allowed to drive my mom’s car is obviously the fact that Eri has to drive. Eri is Ma’s seventy-something-year-old mother, who has absolutely no sense of direction. And she freaks out quite easily. So we had to leave the house at 06:50, and take the easiest route possible, although it’s also the longest, and hang on for dear life anytime we approach a roundabout. Furthermore, there is little to no talking allowed once the vehicle is in motion, to enable Eri to concentrate to her fullest potential. Music is a definite no. So those forty-five minutes to Ten’s school are pretty hellish. To make matters worse, she doesn’t know how to get from Ten’s school to mine, so I had to show her the way. Twice. Which means, we left Ten’s school, drove to mine, made a U-turn, drove back to Ten’s school, made another U-Turn, and drove back to mine. And I had to draw her a map. Eri said she’d call me if she has any problems finding her way back (which is a simple five-minute route), and she hasn’t yet called me. So hopefully she’s on her way home and not actually in Jordan with no phone signal or something.

I just realised that I’ve been complaining for the past thousand words or so, and although I could continue for another five thousand, I’d rather not. I’ll just list a few more points:

  • Normal doses of caffeine no longer have an effect on me, so I’ve become a coffeeholic, even though I can’t really afford to be one.
  • I have four hours of accounting today and want to shoot myself in the face.
  • I don’t have time to go to the beach as often as I want to.
  • My favourite shirt seems to have gone missing.
  • I cooked a chicken soup for Omar yesterday because he’s sick, but now my hands smell like garlic, regardless of how much I wash them.
  • Ma took my Ten’s gold eyeliner with her, and I look ugly without it.
  • I despise malls with a creepishly strong passion, yet I must go to one today with Eri, of all people, to help her get a new phone because she feels the need to copy everything I do.
  • Did I mention I have four hours of accounting today?!
  • I have a craving for something, but I can’t figure out what it is, and it’s very nerve wracking. 
  • The same song has been stuck in my head for the past five days and it’s starting to nauseate me.

And that’s not all, but that’s all I feel like typing for now. So I think the time has come to order another coffee and go to the bathroom and talk to the registrar about my enrollment situation before class, which is in less than an hour. But I thought I’d give you a tiny little taste of the unbearable shittiness of my being so you can sympathise with me. Pity me! Just kidding, don’t. Or do. Your call. Either way, I’m still going to be in a grumpy mood the whole day.

Haha, a bird just flew into the window of Fiesta. I guess it’ll be a good day after all. 

: )

Technology is not my friend.

February 1, 2009

So my phone stopped working again. I really hate it when that happens. And it’s not like it just died and doesn’t work at all, rather, it’s possessed by some evil demon spirit. For example, I try to call one person, it calls someone else. I try to send a normal message like “What time do we have class?” and it transforms my words into “I’m going to eat your soul, muahaha!” I try to scroll down, it scrolls up. I try to put it on Silent mode, it puts it on Outdoor mode. 

So you’re probably thinking I should just use reverse psychology on it and do the opposite of what I actually want, but I tried that. It doesn’t work. It has a mind of its own, I swear! Last night at like three in the morning it just started vibrating. Thinking I was getting a call of grave importance, I actually bothered to leave my awesome dream and wake up to answer it. But when I looked at the screen, no one was calling. In fact, the screen was off and the keypad was locked. But it was still vibrating. For like an hour. 

I tried to go back to sleep but I just couldn’t. So finally, I hid it in the deepest, darkest part of my closet, underneath old, ugly clothes that I never wear anymore, and tried to go back to sleep. That plan worked… for a while.

At around five, my alarm started ringing. Why? I have no idea. First of all, I don’t set my alarm to anything before six. Secondly, I specifically didn’t turn it on that night and instead resorted to using a stock standard alarm clock (i.e. a clock whose only function is to tell time and ring when you tell it to. Remember those?). And lastly, my alarm at the moment is Paper Planes by M.I.A. and my phone was blasting Thriller by Michael Jackson, a song that I never even put onto my phone in the first place. 

So I wake up to a muted Thriller, coming from somewhere in my closet, which creeped me out even more. They’re out to get you, there’s demons closing in on every side… I was about to pee my pants. So I got up and rummaged through my closet to find my phone and switch it off. I found it, yeah. But it didn’t turn off. Red phone didn’t work, cancel didn’t work, stop didn’t work, snooze didn’t work, pressing and holding the power button didn’t work, nothing. So I opened up the back to take out the battery and finally! Silence. 

So I tried to go back to sleep again, but now I had the Thriller music video in my head, so it was kinda difficult. Because I could swear I heard zombies dancing in my room.

Anyway, I finally wake up to the sound of a normal alarm clock, take a shower, and go downstairs to feed Feb and Tommy. But then I remembered that the night before, Omar said he’d pick me up in the morning, so I kinda had to call him to make sure he was awake and stuff, because he has an eight thirty class. So I went back upstairs to get my phone, hoping that I wouldn’t have to exorcise it again. It turned on, made a weird hissing sound, turned off, turned itself back on again, flashed a few times, vibrated, and then looked normal. Hm. 

I took it downstairs with me and set it down in the kitchen while I went to the bathroom mirror to put on my makeup. Out of nowhere, the Nokia ringtone sounds, followed by a few beats of Paper Planes, and then the last few seconds of Thriller (which, if you know the song, is the creepy narrator guy’s evil laugh). I’m not even kidding. 

I go try to call Omar, and his phone rings but he doesn’t pick up. Then my phone switches off and on again, and the whole demonic saga continued so I just opened it and took out my sim card, looking for another body to put it in. I found Ten’s old phone, but it was like, seriously dead. I found another blue phone, but that one displayed some psychedelic images and alien noises when I tried turning it on. My grandma’s using the other spare, so I couldn’t take that one, and Ma needs her phone too, so I couldn’t take hers. Meaning the only option left was Ma’s old phone whose keys are missing and has a battery life of five minutes.

I took out the sim card, and put in mine, and then turned it on. It seemed to work perfectly, but then a whole bunch of Arabic flashed over the screen and I didn’t know what it meant, and then it went BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP! and turned off. Whatever, at least it’s not playing devil music. So I charged it (Omar sent a message saying he’s on his way), and went to finish getting ready.

Then I was done. And bored. So I decided I wanted to check my facebook. I click on ignore, it accepts. Would I like to attend the event? No. You are now attending the event. Like, what? WHY IS EVERYTHING OPPOSITE?! And what the hell did I ever do to my phone (besides throwing it) and my computer (besides yelling at it) that I deserve such torture?! Surrriously. Finally I gave up with facebook. Gmail also didn’t let me do what I wanted to do, nor did MyUOWD. So I just threw my computer and my phone charger in my bag and went outside to get in the car with Omar.

And now magically, everything seems to be working fine. The only thing is, my phone isn’t telling time, instead it’s counting down to something. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a mass assembly of robots right now, counting down along with my phone. It’s at 03:17:38 right now, so we’ll see what happens at 00:00:00. The end of the world? Probably.


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