Rants of an angry somali man

CRAZY'S BEST WAY TO AVOID THEM

2010-02-02T09:31:00.000-08:00

Im not gonna start talkin' bout' why i haven't been bloggin' but this year is diffrent so i'll get straight to my rants..........Earlier last month, I stopped by Edgeware to grab a quick bite to eat. Upon leaving, I found myself in a bit of a predicament as I waited for the light to change in order to cross some U Street. I was standing next to an older lady, and approaching us from further up the street was a lanky fellow, moving in very spastic fits . He was also grunting and yelling out obscenities that made no sense whatsoever, like

“F*@K YOU! THE F**KIN’ SUN GOT MY CAT PREGNANT! HIT ME MOTHERF**KER! AAAAARGH!!! YOUR TEETH ARE SEXY!”

I can’t pretend to actually remember the exact words that this guy said, but it was something along those lines. As he approached, I knew that I had two options. Readers take note, because these are the ONLY two ways to successfully avoid crazy people in public places:

Option 1: Avoid eye contact at all costs, remain still, and peek out of the corner of my eyes to keep this fool in my peripheral vision in case he makes a move. That way, I can see it coming and push his crazy ass into oncoming traffic, or deliver a stern shin kick and throat chop ya kichizi. Yes, I fight dirty.

Who am I kidding? I’m not fighting some tall, smelly, crazy fool if I don’t have to! I’d probably attempt a juke move on him to evade the tackle, then run for dear life! I’m too old for that tough-guy stuff.

If you take nothing else from this, remember to avoid making eye-contact. Eye-contact to crazy people is like sh*t to flies: It draws them in.

Option 2: The other option when confronted with a situation like this is to out-crazy the crazy guy. I don’t recommend trying this unless you are pretty sure that the person is not really as crazy as he seems. Out-crazying a crazy person requires you to do what he or she does, but equal their effort or go above it. For instance, in order to out-crazy the Tazmanian Devil man, I would have had to jump up and down, shimmy my shoulders, then start yelling something even more ridiculous than his earlier outburst:

“YOUR PREGNANT DOG IS ON FIRE! OBAMA GOT THREE NIPPLES! I RAPED A KANGAROO IN THE POCKET!!! AAARRRGH!!! THE DAY OF THE GEECHEE IS HERE!!!”

As you can probably tell, you must sacrifice your own dignity and public image in order to use this tactic to scare away crazy people on the street. Not to mention that this maneuver is almost the same thing as playing a game of “Chicken” with someone. If the guy isn’t all that crazy, he’ll be surprised and run away somewhere. However, if this fellow really and truly is crazy, he might attack you I don’t know if crazy-people bites are like zombie bites, but I wouldn’t take that chance of having him infect you with the crazy people rabies juice in his saliva.

So in essence, there’s really only one way to deal with this type of situation, unless you are feeling adventurous. If so, please get someone to tape your attempt at out-crazying someone crazy, then send it to YOUTUBE. It should prove to be entertaining, no matter what happens!

MY DOGGY WORLD

2009-06-13T03:49:00.000-07:00

Lemme say i'm back again my dear blog n i missed ya a lot baby but something has bothering me and u the only that can hear me out......First of all lemme clarify this.....i'm DOGPHOBIC ( dont even know if the word exists) but i had a peace treaty with doggy kingdom until this morning.......Somebody’s black pit bull was wandering around the neighborhood when I was leaving earlier, and as I walked off the front porch, it stared right at me like it wanted a piece of me! I had to pause for a second and think: Do I stay strong, and stand my ground? Or do I scream like a chick in a horror movie and run down the street for dear life?

I then realized that if I let this dog punk me, he might start thinking I’m that guy in the neighborhood to pick on! I am a MAN, dammit! I’m not going to be buying dog food for someone else’s dog, just to keep him from bullying me. I had to stand my ground! Besides, I can’t let my neighbors see me running up the street screaming like a bitch.

I looked the dog dead in the eye, and said “If you take one more step in this direction, I swear to God I will smack up your ass! Don’t test me! I’ll beat the sh*t out you right here in broad daylight!”
The sad part is, I don’t even think the dog took me seriously. It looked as if she rolled her eyes as she walked in the opposite direction. It really doesn’t matter though. All that matters is she left me alone, and I can continue to walk my neighborhood with my head held high!

This takes me back my childhood dayz( aha i'm already flowing my dear blog) Growing up, I had a friend in the neighborhood named Otieno. His nickname was Otiz so everybody in the neighborhood knew him by that name. Well, Otiz had this dog named Ruler…a big German Shepherd with a mean temper. As a matter of fact, the dog got the name Ruler because he ruled the area with an iron fist.

Well, in Ruler’s case, I guess it was an iron paw, but back to the story.......

Otis and his dad never kept that psycho dog on a leash, and rarely chained him up. The thing about Ruler is, he would attack only when HE felt like fucking with someone, so you never knew what to expect. Otieno tried to sick him on me one day after I beat his ass over one of our many arguements, and Ruler just walked over to me and nuzzled up against me, letting me pet him and shit. Otis was like “GET HIM YOU JINGA(stupid) DOG!” Two weeks later, that dog chased me and my cousins for two streets in a ferocious rage for no reason. I barely escaped. One of my cousins husseini ran head first into a tree branch trying to get away and damn near knocked himself out. He’s lucky Ruler was mainly trailing me, because that would’ve been his ass.

Mogaka, our neighborhood’s version of the Village Idiot, wasn’t so lucky. Ruler bit the shit out of his ass when he was little. I think he still has a scar on his head to this day from where Ruler got him.

Fast forward to about two years later. I’m on my bike, pedalling down the street, when all of the sudden, Ruler comes charging at me full speed like a bat out of hell. I’m not going to lie, Wallahi I was scared shitless. I just started pedalling for dear life, disregarding stop signs and everything else but Satan’s Hound of the Damned that was literally right on my heels. I got about two blocks with that dog still in hot pursuit before I realied that I had no choice but to take desperate measures. I took my left leg off the pedal and kicked the living shit outta Ruler, right in the face. All I heard was a loud “AAAAAARRRRRRFFFFFF!” but I refused to slow down. I did it so quick, that I didn’t even break my stride on the bike. When I did look back, Ruler was way off in the distance walking around. I slowed down a bit, but kept on pedalling just to make sure I was in the clear.

Thankfully later that year, Municipal Control(kenyan version of RSPCA who dont care for the animal the only remedy is they kill) put Ruler’s ass to sleep. I know they say all dogs go to heaven, but I KNOW that bitch is burning in Hell somewhere. Probaby chillin in the Devil’s backyard eating the grass and shitting all over the place like he used to in Oti’s yard.

THANX A LOT MY DEAR BLOG FOR HEARING ME OUT HOPE TO BE SEEING MORE OF YOU BABY!

BACK COZ I HAD TOO! MY FINGERS WERE ITCHY!

2008-12-26T04:00:00.000-08:00

whoaHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!............its bein a while since i've been here i think since last year dec 3rd.......long time missed dis joint a lot......so no excuses!....bruv been busy but still in london!....so i don't wanna bore u with what i was doin or where i was past year......all i can missed my blog n its back to business......this my only place to let out so i'mo let it all out!!!

i just opened up my email today n i found one those nigerian con mails i know I’m not the only one getting the e-mails. They start out something like:

Dear Beloved,

Due to the sudden death of my husband Lassana conte the late the head of state of guinea in DEC 16TH 2008, I have been thrown into a state of hopelessness by the present administration.I have lost confidence with anybody within my country.I got your contacts through personal research, and had to reach you through this medium. I will give you more details when you reply. Due to security network placed on my daily affairs I cant visit the embassy so that is why I have contacted you. My husband deposited $12.6million dollars with a security firm abroad whose name is witheld for now till we communicate. I will be happy if you can receive this funds for safe keeping and I assure you a very good percent of this fund I will instruct my son to contact you so please feel free to comunicate with my son. I await your urgent response,

Hajia Mariam.

NOTE:

PLEASE I WOULD WANT YOU TO SEND ME YOUR CONTACT TELEPHONE NUMBER SO THAT MY SON LAMINE CAN CALL AND DISCUSS WITH YOU VERBALLY REGARDING THIS TRANSACTION SO THAT YOU CAN ASK ANY QUESTION THAT YOU FEEL LIKE ASKING REGARDING THIS TRANSACTION.

This leads me to wonder many, many things if it were legit by some stretch of the imagination. Like, what in the Hell kind of research did you do to find my name to handle your money?! You’se a goddamn fool if you think you can give me $12 million dollars and expect me to just hold it for you. I’ll give a Nigerian hit man $200, and a pair of size 12 Timberlands to have him take you and your son out, then keep the rest of the cash for myself. I will pull a Charles Taylor and go into exile while still spending YOUR money. I mean for Christ’s sake, have you not u not done u research about me. Obviously not, because if so, you’d know that I would take advantage of your dumb ass, then write about it on here.

Secondly, since you’re getting your son Lamine to contact me, why can’t you just give the money to him?! What? Is his credit bad? If that’s the case, you might not want to trust me with your money, either. I got a “Don’t let me catch your ass in the street” notice from a bill collector just yesterday. I might not be the financial whiz you need handling the late President's fortune.

Third, you really don’t want my cell phone number or my bank account. You will be a pissed off Nigerian widow if you expect to get any money out of my account. That’s like trying to squeeze water out of a rock. Not happening, hoe. I should kick your ass for getting my hopes up and gettting me to thinking about what it would be like if I actually had some big cash right now for you to steal.

Besides, I don’t answer international calls, unless it starts with 254(ke) or 252(s). Hell, I rarely answer calls from the countries when I don’t recognize the number. You think I’m going to answer some shit with more than 15 digits? Bitch please! .......ooh so sorry i think i gettin' a bit carried away its just a fuckin' scam!......n 4 a minute i actually thought i was talking to her......am getting paranoid this days...right?

That felt gooder i had to let out!!......now i have to find soma giza bomba....veve....khat!!...........have a chewing day!

OWN WORST ENEMY!

2007-12-03T04:36:00.000-08:00

I won't say i'm sorry bout not writing 4 a while but i've certainly missed it so today i'll critique myself n write whatever comes to mind......Before you all get worried that I’m going to pull an Owen Wilson, rest assured, I love myself way too much to do anything self-destructive. Today’s entry is not some kind of cry for help. Then again, if you were thinking about giving me money, or pity pu**y, I guess I’ll let you call it whatever you want.

The reason that I feel like I am my own worst enemy sometimes is because I have a bad habit of messing up my follow-through when it comes time to capitalize on opportunities. At first, I used to take it for granted that things would always just work out for me in the end. After being pimp slapped by fate a few times too many, I realized that I have to get out and make things happen, instead of just sliding by on my charm, talent and luck.

You would think that learning this lesson would be a good thing, but I took it to extremes. I am now somewhat of a dysfunctional perfectionist. I tend to pick apart my work, striving for perfection, but never feeling that it’s quite there. That’s a big reason why I haven’t finished a large-scale business idea in years, and why this site, while very humorous, does not have the right look to truly fit the funny content that I put on here.

Actually, that dysfunctional perfectionist thing has even messed me up with women before, too. I was doing research(for free) a few months back at this bookstore, and while I was taking notes from a book that I had no intention of buying, this FINE lady in a sundress walked past, smiled and said hello. I responded in kind, but I was so caught up in what I was doing, that I let her keep walking. After I finished jotting down the last part, I decided “What the Hell? Why not go make a new sexy friend?”

I went out to the parking lot, and all I saw was her pulling off in an £50,000 Mercedes convertible. I thought to myself “Dammit Leon! You just let the perfect Sugar Momma experience drive away! Some so-called Black Gigolo you are!”

change of topic now.......I can’t stand people who use “Selective English.” By selective English, I mean people who can speak English, but act like they can’t when it comes time to do something that they don’t want to do. Don’t get me wrong, this is not an attack on illegal aliens. They are getting enough bad press and persecution these days. This is an attack on lazy people who hide behind their native languages. Thanks to one of them, my morning commute cost me £15 today.

I stopped by the McDonalds earlier this morning, since I had a craving for some good ol’ fashioned orange juice for some reason. Once I made my purchase, I realized that I did not have any change to catch the bus that would take me right outside of the building that I needed to be at. I then went back over to the lady who took my order and asked her to give me change for a £5 bill.

Mind you, this woman spoke English when she took my order and the three before me. All of the sudden, she didn’t understand what I was talking about. She said “Wait one minute” and tried to stall me. I after the next three customers came and went, I asked her for about the third time, this time standing directly in front of hr with my hands on the countertop next to the register. The woman had the nerve to say “No . You say change?”

then i said " yes i want change"

she then says" wait one minute i no understanding."......with indian accent.

I then replied “Damn just gimme my change! I bet you understood that! You’d understand me if I had on an homeoffice badge or something. Stop faking like you can’t understand the words coming out of my mouth!”
At that point, I looked over and saw the bus pulling off from across the street. I knew that if I waited for the next one, that I would have been late. I also knew that the £5 in change was no longer a relevant issue, because I was going to have to catch a cab just to make it on time. At that point, I just walked out of the place, and hailed a cab(they stopped for me today because I’m dressed like I have a good job or something).
So let’s see…one orange juice and a ride to work cost me about £17 in total, not counting the minutes of my life wasted arguing with a woman who’s rather fake like she can’t speak English than open her cash register and give a paying customer change for a £5 bill. I should be angry, but for some reason, I still feel like it’s going to be a good day today, despite the negative start things got off to. Just please, please, PLEASE remind me to never eat breakfast at the that McDonalds again. They’ll probably put all kinds of “additives” and “preservatives” into my food, now that I cursed out Ms. Selective English-Speaker.

IT'S SWEATING ALL OVER!!!

2007-08-11T04:49:00.000-07:00

damn its hot!!.....What have I been up to, you ask? Well, my friends, let me answer your question.

I’ve been sweating like an Alabama field slave.

Sweating like two fat people having sex in a sauna

Sweating like a Eddie Murphy waiting on some paternity test results.

Sweating like a hooker in church service.

Sweating like Michael Jackson when he runs out of white man makeup.

Sweating like a coke bottle sitting on a picnic table at a barbeque.

Sweating like I’ve been running from one side of the equator to the other.

You get the idea. Londonis HOT! I have AC, but still. Every time I’ve gone outside these past few days, I’ve had to ask myself, “Am I still in London, or have I died and officially gone to Hell?”

Then, I see some half-naked woman with a nice body walk by, and I remember that I’m still alive. I would not be treated to such visual delights if Lucifer were my landlord.

You know it’s bad when it’s too hot to do all of the things that I like to do. Like eating khat outside with my friends. F*cking. Talking sh*t. When it’s so hot, that you let disrespectful actions slide for the simple fact that you don’t want to exert too much energy and end up sweating, then you know it’s serious.

Everybody be safe, and remember to stay hydrated if ou have to be out in the sun. Also, to all my fellow brown/black-skinned people, remember that sunburn is not REAL! but it HURTS!
another thing yeah yesterday was hot it was the type of heat that makes you discriminate against big people. Nobody wants a big body pressed up against you when you're already hot sitting by yourself. When the train hit a station with a lot of people waiting to get on, it was like Russian Roulette. I watched each passenger come on the train, the whole time thinking "Come on skinny person! COME ON, SKINNY PERSON...DAMN IT! PLEASE DON'T LET THIS FAT B*TCH SIT NEXT TO ME...WHEEEEEEEW. She kept it moving. Thank God! Come on, skinny person!"

It was my lucky day. Some slim fellow who did not stink sat next to me for the next couple of stops. I had enough elbow room, so things worked out. Had someone big person sat next to me, you might not be reading this right now. You'd be like "I heard that dude Feisal died of a heat stroke. They had to peel his body off this big girl named Gladys' arm! The man was stuck like velcro!"

What made it worse was when I finally got to my destination. I felt the weather outside, and realized that it was way too nice out there for it to be so damned hot inside the train! If I get on another hot ass death trap of a tube train again, I'm going to walk all the way up to the front, and slap the driver repeatedly until he or she either cuts on the AC, or passes out. Hopefully, the driver will just cut on the AC, because I do not know how to drive a tube train. If I'm driving, everyone on the train will be cool, but eventually we're all gonna probably die when I cause some kind of crash! London underground, get your act together so that it does not have to come to this!

Dry Humped On The bakerloo Line

2007-08-02T05:49:00.000-07:00

Its been long while can't believe i haven't been bloggin'.......yaani basically the whole of july have not blogged .......was so busy at the hospital.........tellin u guyz about it gets me depressed.......so lemme right somethin lively tha'll get my writing juices up n going.........aight!!...Not sure if I told this story before, and I'm even more unsure if the world really needs to know this...

Hell, you all know enough crazy things about me by now to know that I don't embarass easily. That said, I shall tell the story of my adventure one morning going to work taking the underground Line.

It was a nice summer day in july. I was running a tad bit behind my usual time arriving at work, but was in no rush at all. The only drawback of my arrival time at the underground station was that at that point every day it got realy crowded on the bakerloo Line. Since I lived right near a station at the time, it didn't make sense to travel to another station to avoid the rush...Plus traffic was a bitch everyday out there.

So the train arrives, and as I anticipated, it was really crowded. I ended up standing between a wall on the rail car and between this lady with a red dress on. I smiled at her as I got on and said something along the lines of "This is what I get for oversleeping" or something to that effect. She smiled and said one of the standard responses from the hoodrat handbook, "I know that's right."

I can't lie..the red dress lady was kinda cute. She was a couple hamburgers across the thick/fat line, but she wasn't too far gone. Plus, her booty made up for the little bit of excesses everywhere else.

Initially, I was just in a zone, thinking about nothing but work. So as the train gets more and more crowded, she backs up on me more and more. Eventually, she backs that thang up on me, and I realize that she's begun swaying side to side gently. At first I thought "What the fuck?!? This chick is dry humping me on the bakerloo Line!?!?"

Then, I started feeling a little...tingly. That shit started to feel gooder than a motherfucker.* abdalla Jr. jr was wide the fuck awake...To the point that I had to cover my shit with my work portfolio when I got off the train so as not to draw attention to the boner. I really wish I didn't have to switch lines at Baker street, because I bet if I had stayed on there and actually talked to her, she would have broken me off something TERRIBLE. I'm sure if random gropage felt that good, she probably has incredible tang. I'm talking Snatch of Legend. I might be writing about toe curling, fantastic sex right now as opposed to getting groped by a stranger in public and actually kinda liking it.

Now, to all of you impressionable readers, I do not, repeat, DO NOT recommend that you try this. That's an easy way to catch a case, or get the shit beat outta you. Besides, it's rather...trampish. The only time groping strangers is acceptable these days is on the dancefloor, preferably after both parties have been drinking.

* note: I know that "gooder" is not a word, but felt so tingly and sparkly and magnificent that I had to use a word that does not exist to describe how horny I got...I was such a hebitchmanslutwhore that day......yep!.....i had to let that out!!!.........so i'm back now here to blog as kawaida..........baadhen basi wote!

ONE ASS 4 ONE SIT!!!!!

2007-06-16T12:13:00.000-07:00

Once again, I must write a story about the people that I encounter on london Underground. This time, it happened to someone else, but I was there to witness it. It’s right after 5PM, and the train is crowded after work. For those unfamiliar with how London underground seats are configured, they are in sets of two facing eachoer. There were only three seats available on the train when I got on, and I happened to be next to one, along with two older ladies. The lady that was closest to me slid into one of the seats, and I sat down next to her. The lady who was a little further away stood next to the other available seat, which was covered by some woman sprawed out across both of the seats n her row.

The older lady asked the one in two seats if she could sit down, and the two-seat lady had the nerve to get an attitude! She grunted, picked up her bag, stood up, looked at the other lady, sucked her teeth, and then slid over. I just sat in my seat and shook my head in disgust.

You only have one ass, so you’re only really entitled to one seat on the train. That punk assed £3.50 does not ensure comfort. If you wanted a comfortable ride, hire a chauffeur and ride to work in the back of a limo. If you want a cheap, fast ride, you take Underground. By taking Underground, you understand that you run the risk of sitting next to someone big, smelly or hideously unattractive. That’s what Underground fare gets you. One seat for two ass cheeks.

I think the only reason it botherd me was because it was an old lady who wanted to sit down and had to deal with that foolishness. I don’t like seeing people who have no respect for their elders when it comes to little things like that. I hope that stingy seat lady catches some kind of Biblical plague on her backside that keeps her from ever being able to sit on the train again. Yeah…If there’s a such thing as karma, that woman will lose an ass cheek as a result of her becoming a butt leper. It might sound harsh, but it would serve her right. That’ll teach her to hog the seat on a crowded train!

i've got a lot stuff to write this time having not blogged for the passed 20days or so.......but this time its the underground i'm letting it off on......ok lemme go on with my ranting coz this is the angry somali man rant's time so today I took a Underground train, it’s been hot, humid and stuffy inside the car, all at the same time. The station wasn’t hot. The weather outside wasn’t hot. Only the stuffy train was hot. It’s obvious that either the air conditioner was broken, or underground was just being cheap and keeping it off to save gas and money. I really hope that the trains I got on just happened to have mechanical issues. If I find out that underground was being cheap and keeping the AC off, then I’m going to raise Hell!

I won’t have to raise very far by the way, because the underground(bakerloo) train that I was on this evening had a temperature that was slightly about 10 degrees below “Hell” on the farenheit scale. It reminded me of a trip to northern part of kenya(lokichoggio) i went when i was standard8...damn that place was hot!!!.....so back to the story. I think I saw Satan in the back of the train drinking ice water and fanning himself off......thats how hot it was!!!

It was the type of heat that makes you discriminate against big people. Nobody wants a big body pressed up against you when you’re already hot sitting by yourself. When the train hit a station with a lot of people waiting to get on, it was like Russian Roulette. I watched each passenger come on the train, the whole time thinking “Come on skinny person! COME ON, SKINNY PERSON…DAMN IT! PLEASE DON’T LET THIS FAT B*TCH SIT NEXT TO ME…WHEEEEEEEW. She kept it moving. Thank God! Come on, skinny person!”

It was my lucky day. Some slim fellow who did not stink sat next to me for the next couple of stops. I had enough elbow room, so things worked out. Had someone big person sat next to me, you might not be reading this right now. You’d be like “I heard that dude Feisal died of a heat stroke. They had to peel his body off this big girl named Gladys’ arm! The man was stuck like velcro!”

What made it worse was when I finally got to my destination. I felt the weather outside, and realized that it was way too nice out there for it to be so damned hot inside the train! If I get on another hot ass death trap of a london train again, I’m going to walk all the way up to the front, and slap the driver repeatedly until he or she either cuts on the AC, or passes out. Hopefully, the driver will just cut on the AC, because I do not know how to drive a Underground train. If I’m driving, everyone on the train will be cool, but eventually we’re all gonna probably die when I cause some kind of crash! london underground, get your act together so that it does not have to come to this!..........sawaz!!!

OK. I Get It. You're Muscular!!.

2007-05-26T04:48:00.000-07:00

Why do people with big muscles feel the need to constantly remind the world that they…have big muscles?

I’m all about physical fitness. No doubt about it. People who work out generally enjoy a higher quality of life. Everybody should try to incorporate some sort of excercise into their lifestyle activities. I can’t stress the importance of this enough.

Now that I got that first paragraph out of the way, I have to ask this question: Why do people with big muscles feel the need to constantly remind the world that they do, in fact, have big muscles? Usually, it’s quite evident. Either you have big muscles, or a bunch of radioactive mosquitos out of a Godzilla movie whipped your ass and bit you all over your body. Let me tell you all what happened on Wednesday to give you some insight on how this question came to mind.

I went to an event at work, and after it was over, I was walking out with the lady who sat next to me during the event. We were talking while heading towards the door, and this muscle-bound man in a Shaquille O’Neal jersey stomped in with an angry look on his face. He was the type of guy that looked like he ate a box of Wheaties for breakfast, sprinkled with steroids and infants. The man’s shoulders looked like bowling balls, like some kind of Negro Mutant Ninja Turtle. He was storming forward pretty fast at a pace that was not quite running, but a step faster than that “power walking” stuff that old people do for excercise.

I saw him, but the lady walking with me did not. As soon as I said ”Watch out!” Shaq jersey man’s shoulder hit her and damn near spun her around. The worst part is that the guy just kept on going as if nothing happened. I honestly think if he had knocked her down, he would have walked back, stood over her and yelled out “AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH” like martin keown once did van nistelrooy(arsenal vs man u 2004) ya remember?!!. Not do what a normal person would do: apologize for being a big, angry, possibly creatine mood swing suffering man who just gave a shoulder block to a woman.

Of course, I said something, but luckily he didn’t hear me. I would have had to have done something crazy, like stab him in the eyeball or set his nuts on fire to win that fight. I would imagine someone that big can take a punch or twelve. I think I subconsciously waited until he was out of earshot to call him a jackass. You can call me all kinds of things, but ”suicidal” is not one of them.

That event made me wonder why muscle-bound people do some of the things that they do. Like wearing little-ass clothes.

I know you can find a shirt that fits, and Stevie Wonder can see that you have muscles, so the extra-smedium shirt is not necessary. Stop cutting off your circulation and give your little nephew his shirt back! If I can see your heart beating, then something is terribly wrong. That’s the real reason this guy’s veins are bulging out…HE CAN’T BREATHE! The model above was rumored to have been found dead of nipple asphyxiation mere hours after the photo shoot. R.I.P., you tight titty t-shirt wearing ass clown......JINGA TYPE!!

On a closing note, I would like to tell all of the people out there with big muscles reading this that my intention is not to make fun of you. My intention is to help keep you all from playing yourselves. Continue to do what you do, just buy some clothes that fit, and stop trying to show off so much. We know you’re proud. We know you worked hard. That said, you need to know that the type of behavior that I wrote about is considered obnoxious by just about everybody. ....au sio?

Fire On My Ass!!!.....or is it vice versa??

2007-05-11T03:45:00.000-07:00

Warning: The following entry contains toilet humor. If that sort of thing is not your cup of tea, well then…I guess you won’t be getting your damned cup of tea. Go on and stick that up your pipe and smoke it!

Ladies and Gentlemen out there, I pose this question: How many of you have ever been betrayed by your butt-crack? I’m not talking about extreme conditions, like elderly people who wear adult diapers because they have no control of themselves. I mean folks who normally have firm control over all of their bodily functions, only to have your booty one day build up the nerve to act unruly and start acting like it runs the show. Thanks to some half-price produce, I know this feeling.

A few months ago, I was grocery shopping at tesco's and a sign caught my eye. It read: “Strawberries £1.49 with card.”

To me, the combination of “cheap” and “strawberries” was too good to pass up. I decided right then, that I was going to buy a pack and snack on them once I got home. Nevermind the fact that it took me 10 minutes of searching to find a pack of strawberries that did not look as if they had been beaten by their husbands. Yes, these were the strawberries that wore makeup and dark glasses around the other berries in the patch, in order to hide the signs of abuse. Despite this glaring warning sign, I figured that this was probably the last day that they’d be edible, so I took my chances and bought the battered produce anyway.

That evening, I ate about half of them before a couple of friends came over. When they arrived, people saw the remaining strawberries and said they looked like something from an episode of CSI or The X-Files. I laughed it off, but about an hour later, the laughter stopped. That’s when my butthole betrayed me.

While we were all watching TV, I felt my stomach lock up on me the same way it wold had I been punched in it. Only thing is, this punch came from within. So I got up and excused myself to go do number 2. I thought I would be able to be discreet, but my butthole had other plans..

I sat on the toilet, and instead of quietly doing my business, my butt let out the loudest “BRRRRRRRRRRRRRAP” sounding noise known to man. It was almost as if my ass were doing an impression of The Human Beat Box from The Fat Boys. Not only that, but during the course of my bad produce-induced trip to the restroom, various other noises were released. My butt would decide to pretend to be Bobby brown on a day that guests were over.

When I was done, walking out of that room was like walking that green mile to the electric chair. I knew I was gonna get it. Folks started out asking if I was alright, then I got joked for eating those strawberries of death. People even said I was in there playing the ass trumpet. All I know is, I learned my lesson about buying marked down items that look like they have about a day of shelf-life left in the grocery store. That’s asking for a butt mutiny!

London Underground Speech Man

2007-05-04T11:01:00.000-07:00

Hey lemme say this first i've missed bloggin...........damn!!....can't believe its been a month.....busy with some work stuff and a small course i had to go through so my time was limited but i've got lots to say....i guess my prowess usually comes to show at this time of the year....spring baby!!I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Warm Spring weather brings out the crazy people. I usually love this time of year. The sun shines brighter, the women wear less, and the temperature is just right. Apparently, crazy folks like Spring, too, because you start seeing them all over the place in London once the weather breaks.

Last week, I took the bus home from work, and there was an old bald man who looked to be about 70, in a tan Members Only-style jacket on there. Of all the people on the bus, he decides that I am the ideal person to try to strike up conversation with, since, well...that's just what happens whenever I ride public transportation. I basically ignored him and nodded my head once while avoiding all eye contact. So after about three minutes of him giving a speech about how all the white people on the bus were going to get sick and die because they weren't wearing enough clothes, he realized I wasn't paying attention and decided to find a different target.

The crazy guy noticed this 40-something Hispanic lady, and apparently was smitten. He started sweet talking her from across the bus, saying "I want to see you later, baby! I've got something for you. Something that can make you feel real good! We can have fun all night long! ALL NIGHT LONG! I'm serious. ALL. NIGHT. LONG."

So at this point, I'm almost in tears from trying not to laugh out loud in front of the guy. It got harder to not laugh when I took a glance at him and saw that he was staring intently at the lady as if he were on a mission. He did not crack a smile the whole time he was looking at her and talking. She ignored him too, and he got off the bus. The lady and I got off at the same stop, and she looked at me and said "Did you hear what that fool was saying to me?!"

It was so funny, that I called my friend Zulekha to tell her about it. She said that an old man walked up to her on the train bakerloo near queens park and started telling her to remember to eat vegetables every day. I asked her if he had on a tan Members Only-looking jacket on, and she said "YES! Oh my God, he got you too?"

We concluded that Old Man Members Only must have spent his day traveling around the city on the bus and train, starting random conversations with any and everybody who crossed his path. Had the weather been cold, he would have probably kept his behind in the house and yelled at the TV or something. Alas, it was warm out, so he decided to take a field trip. Only in London. Only in the Springtime.......i'm off to southall now......gotta chew some khat.....gomba!!....its friday!...or should i say furahiday!!!!.....its been since i had some fun with my boyz!

THEY SHOULD SHOW ID CARD'S!!!

2007-04-03T07:45:00.000-07:00

Young girls are developing grown-woman bodies at an alarming rate. Don’t end up going in jail!!

first of all i must admit i haven't been here for a while and i miss blogin' to all my readers bear with me i have just been extremely busy but i'm back now i'll be here like my old self ....sawaz?!!....so lets get it started.......yesterday was another unseasonably warm day in London, and life was wonderful. The birds were singing, folks were smiling, and best of all, women were looking exceptionally good. So good, that I ate my lunch outside today, then hung out on the corner with some of the construction workers from the building site across the street. All we did was ogle women and make dirty old man comments. It was great!

There was a drawback to this half-hour of excellence on the whitechapel street's. This drawback is that some of the women the workers pointed out were teenagers. If you looked at them from the neck down, you wouldn’t know it(save for the occasional bookbag with Spongebob on it). It was pretty unsettling, because that grown woman T&A(thigh's and ass) is enough to fool some guys.

I remember back in uni when you could rely on the saying “If there’s grass on the field, players are gonna play.”

Or this one: “If there’s feathers on the Eagle, it’s legal.”

Nowadays, with all the stuff people are putting in food, young girls get grown woman T&A at an alarmingly fast rate. Not only that, but if that stuff is making them develop fast, chances are, their woman parts are most likely comparable to the Fertile Crescent. Plant a seed, and it will grow!

Now that I’ve managed to scare everybody reading this not named R. Kelly, I am going to ask you all to pay attention to the young girl signs. Usually, her voice will give you an indication as to whether or not she is a teenager. If she sounds like a kid, then you’re probably looking at an all-expense paid trip to the bootyhouse if you sleep with her. Also, her attire will usually tell you all that you need to know. Watch out for extra-bright colors(unless she’s Puerto Rican) and haven't seen lots of dem in london, anything with cartoon characters on it, overdone accessories, and jellies. Only young girls and extremely tacky people wear those ugly rubber things on their feet.

If you have any doubts from that point on, just ask to see ID. It’s easier than you think. Tell the chick that she looks young, and that you don’t believe she’s old enough to be in college/working/etc. Trust me, only underage girls get offended when being called young. Any other woman would be more than happy to hear those words.......ya heard me???

I hope this entry helps keep you all from making any life changing mistakes. I would hate to hear about one of my readers going to see someone they met today, and have this guy walk ouf of the kitchen.......u might end up in jail guyz take care!............i'm off!

Stop Being A Tease!

2007-03-22T06:53:00.000-07:00

Alright! That's IT!!! I'm tired of you doing me like this! To let me get a taste of something so good, something so right, then just take it all away...It's just flat out evil. How could you do it! How could you just play with my body and my emotions like that?!

I can't lie, the last week or so was really good to me. It's been awhile since I've experienced anything like that. You made me happy. You inspired me to do things I haven't done in months...Then you flipped the script on me. I wish you'd stop being such a tease!

I'm speaking to Mother Nature, of course.

I really got used to that nice, warm Spring-like weather that we were experiencing in the London area. The weather went from 18 degrees on Wednesday last week, to 3 or 4 degrees on monday n tuesday with heavy rain and sleet. There were even a few snow flurries. Mother Nature pimped us all! She took us from "I bareley need a jacket" weather, to "Break out the scarf, hat and heavy coat" weather.

Can you blame me for being a little emotional? For a guy like me who hates cold weather with a passion, that little taste of an early Spring had me ecstatic. Finally, I thought, something good had come from the so called global warming! The only way I could have been happier is if I had been given a job traveling the country as a judge in barebecue rib competitions. Yes, unlimited goat meat was the only thing that could top that wonderful Spring weather.

Yet, Mother Nature decided to deliver an open-handed slap in the mouth to all of us in the London area. This must be what it feels like to have sex with someone you just met, and then wake up to an empty bed...Or even worse, an empty bed, and a dresser with a £10 bill on it. That's how Mother Nature made me feel. Now, let me get back to work and take my mind off this cheap, cold, empty feeling that I'm left with...

"I got this ice-box where my heart used to be...I'm so cold, I'm so cold, I'm so cold"

oohh no i don't have to go i haven't been bloggin' for a while so i'll write something about my life at work.........aight!?

An edited version of fei.

One of the reasons I started this blog was to have some kind of outlet, so that as I am told to conform, conform, conform at work, I can continue to be ME ME ME somewhere else.

I was pretty un-selfconscious about starting this blog, but then the trials of this radiologist getting outed in his department and other bloggers sharing their various tracking techniques have made me somewhat more concerned for remaining anonymous. Which makes it less fun.

See, there I go, I just started to edit that last sentence frag, but it's hard to do the Allen Ginsberg first-thought/best-thought method of writing when you're contantly on the backspace key correcting your smaller mistakes... it's easy enough to just keep going and take out anything incorrect or otherwise, you know, personalized.

Lately I feel like a shell of a person, probably because I spend too much time worrying about my image at work. I dress differently from others at work(i'm not that keen in to wearing suits and all that unless its a must)so me being feisal i'm still into slightly sagged jeans(not that british rudeboy style where they pull it under their ass) my workmates usual say i'm cool but i know they r fake compliments deep down the despise for being different , keep different hours than I want to, and try to watch what I say to everyone, all the time fuck dem british. I edit emails over and over until I'm sure they're short and to the point and don't contain anything that could be perceived differently than how I intend. And I hate all of it. I've dropped most of my hobbies for lack of time and energy, leaving very little of anything I enjoy or identify with...

Sigh. I never wanted to be one of the people who had a 9 to 5 job and then some lame hobby horse activity in the evenings or weekend warrioring, but the older I get, the more I can see why people do that. Separation of church and state. And a chance to be something other than a cardboard cutout imitation of who you wanted to be when you started out..........................i'm OUT!!!

I Got Eye-Raped!

2007-03-08T03:39:00.000-08:00

When a look just makes you feel…dirty

Ladies and gentlemen that read this blog, please allow me to use this blog today as a form of therapy. I need to talk about something. Something rather traumatic that happened to me a few days ago. I was…violated, so to speak. One could even use the term…raped.

Before I go any further, let me make one thing clear: Nothing happened to my butthole. I have not been involved in any form of man-on-man action, and my bootyhole maintains it’s sanctity to this day. It’s never been desecrated, and it never will be. So don’t get any Adebisi flashbacks from “Oz” or anything like that.

To clarify things, I was eye-raped. No contact was involved, but I still felt the need to go home and shower myself repeatedly to wash away the stains of indignity and injustice. The worst part about it was, it was some middle aged chicks guilty of this heinous act!

I’m riding the train home from work one day, minding my own business, when these four loud women with Verizon shirts on entered the train. The big one catches a glimpse of me from across the train and says “Mmmmmph!” This leads me to wonder if she’s attracted to me, or she saw the pack of dairymilk choc's in my jacket pocket and all of a sudden got hungry. Unfortunately for me, my question was answered when she started talking to the other three hard-looking b*tches about me being sexy and wondering if I would give to her hard.

I wanted to get up and say “You’ll never find out, you sloppy ass, thick neck hooker hoe b*tch!” but these women look like they lived hard lives. The type that walk around visually carrying the scars of supporting unplanned kids with dead-end jobs. If they look that bad with their clothes on, I can imagine what they must look like naked. Pu**ies probably look like they lost a fight with Sugar Shane Mosely…All defeated, abused and lumped up.

I knew if I engaged in a war or words with these heffers, it would be pointless and would only bring more attention to the situation. Since I was getting off the train two stops later, I just acted like I couldn’t hear those cackling wildebeasts until it was time to get off. Then I said “You f*ckin’ nasty, filthy b*tches” right before the doors closed after I got off the train.

Yes, I was a little b*tch-assed about the way I cursed them out, but like I said, I didn’t feel like having a drawn out battle that day. I felt too…soiled by their ogling.

Whew…That felt good to get off my chest. Therapy really does work! I thank you readers for allowing me to tell my story of shame and degredation to you. This will help me in my long-term recovery from the traumatic event. I love y’all.........aight!!

Violence

2007-03-02T05:02:00.000-08:00

I don't know what the fuck was going on in London last night, but I happened upon two violent acts in the misdt of one evening of after-work happy hourdom at one of workmates joint. The first one was funny as shit, so please allow me to tell the story..."

Around 11:00 PM or so, this one small guy with glasses and a suit on was starting to show the effects of his liquor. In a heavy New York accent, this little guy stands next to the pool table and starts yelling "YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME! I GOT THIS SHIT. I DON'T GIVE A AHHHH....I DON'T GIVE A FUCK. CAUSE NOBODY COULD EEEEEEVER FUCK WITH ME!!!!!"

At that point, I had started making fun of that little attention whore. He looked like one of those black scholars you see when you watch some shit like Tavis Smiley's show. Like he just left a Congessional Black Caucus fundraiser, or black Leadership Conference. Yet he was acting an ass yelling like a make-believe DMX. To me, that's worse than if he had come in there doing that in regular street clothes. White folks are gonna start thinking we ALL do coonish shit like that and there are no exceptions to the stereotypes. So for a couple of seconds, I turned away from his theatrics and made fun of him for setting back the race with his antics.

Those 4 seconds I turned my head were momentus. All I heard was him still yelling, then a really loud "slapSLAP" sound. I look over, and that little Cornell West Jr looking dude was on the ground and his friend that came with him was standing over him being held back by three people. The friend said the little angry man threatened to throw a pool ball at him. As soon as angry guy grabbed the pool ball, he gave him a nice two-piece that dropped him. So I guess he wasn't all that un-fuckwittable after all.

Also, this lady I know got the shit slapped out of her by some guy that didn't like it when she corrected his english. I know that it's not cool to be like "Ain't is NOT a word. Use isn't next time" to someone, but still...you don't slap a woman. Especially over some dumb shit like that. I really felt bad for her, even though the thought of someone getting slapped for correcting a person's english is kinda funny. Only in concept, though.

I'm in a Ranting Mood Today!!

2007-02-24T03:29:00.000-08:00

Wassup you all ya. I wanted to share a list of things that pissed me off over this long week. Maybe you feel the same way or maybe not......aaahh its up to ya!!

1 - IKEA furniture - Have you ever bought some shyt from there that you had to assemble? Good Luck!! Your furniture comes with some directions written in Swedish. WTF!! Just a piece of paper with a mf pointing at the shelves, and another picture of that same mf pointing at an empty spot in the living room. With a mf smiley face.....like, "wasn't that easy?" Fukk you, Swedish mute bytch!!

2 - Ice Cream truck items near whitechapel - You should NEVER be able to buy soft serve ice cream and a pack of malboro's at the same time.thats shit!

Yeah, Valentine's Day has passed....which made me think - It's expensive as a MF to have a girlfriend. Now, I might lose the females on this....but don't take it personally. It's just my view. We still friends. The fellas will understand what I'm saying.

When you sit back and think about it, having a girlfriend will break a mfs pockets!! All your expenses have to be multiplied by two, cuz how DARE she pay her own way. Then there's the extra gas to and from their house. Basically, don't even think about getting a girlfriend if you can't afford those bare essentials. Then there's other shyt like:

Gifts: Between Valentine's Day, birthdays, Mother's Day (if y'all got kids), anniversaries, Christmas, and all the times we "FUKK UP"....this is enough to match your salary!! DAMN! My brother hakeem alwayz TOLD me to break up with her azz 3 days before major holidays. When will i learn?!

You've got kids meals, value meals, dinners on the run, lunch on Tuesday, let's have a night out, or....it's just us tonight, and all those mf meals that you ain't even gon' take part in. And all those times she gives you that "look" and says, "Baby, pay for this.....baby, pay for that". WTF. Just TRY to mention "going Dutch" to her.

Just last week, this woman in my office said she went on a date with this mf, and offered to pay. Then she was pissed that he took her up on the offer. She dogged dude like he wasn't shyt. But my question is, why the FUKK did you offer to pay if you weren't sincere to begin with?

i have to let it all out today!!!!.......

My socks and silverware - WTF is goin' on wit my socks? A mf is buying new ones almost every week. How da fukk do they keep turnin' up missing?! I always lose one. Where they going?? The mf dryer sock monster? I grab one out the drawer...and can NEVER find the mf match. And forks and spoons...i'm down to like 4 of each. It's like a mf is breakin' in at night just to hit me up for my silverware.

It's 2007, and I'm noticing a trend around my office. Whether it's in a meeting, or at the coffee machine, I seem to notice it. From women and men. MFs are sugar coatin' shyt

WHY?!!

When did lying become okay? It's fine to just feed a mf a bunch of false hope? For instance, I heard this conversation in the hall.

Co-worker 1: I ain't heard from him since Wednesday of last week

Co-worker 2: Didn't you say he works 2 jobs....maybe he's busy. He'll call soon.

Co-worker 1: Yeah, you're right....maybe he's just going through something

See....WRONG MF ANSWER!!She needs to hear the truth.He don't FUKK with you!! Plain and simple.........stop sugar coatin!!........thats all!!

Ethiopian Women: It's Time To Make Peace So This One's For You

2007-02-15T11:47:00.000-08:00

Today I was having a discussion with Ahmed,Yasin and Hassan about the inherent sexiness of many Ethiopian women. Then it hit me: I have YET to devote blog space to this topic. Considering that it is definitely one that inspires passion and good memories, I shall proclaim this day "Sexy Ethiopian Woman Day" and write a little something.

Where do I begin? Ah yes...I will start off by talking about the first Ethiopian woman that took my breath away, Rehana. Rehana worked in the women's section of Hechts department store in the summer of 2000. At that time, I had a part time evening job there selling luggage in the downstairs section of the place. Our paths did not cross my first couple of weeks there, but once I caught a glimpse of her, I was never the same. This woman was as close to physically perfect as I could imagine at that point in my life. Beautiful face, sexy legs, nice breasts, perfect ass, just everything you could want. It was as if the woman from your sexiest fantasies were placed right in front of you, selling overpriced blouses to middle-aged women. I was actually a little intimidated to go speak to her at first, especially since this one brother who worked upstairs in the men's suits section was always up in her face whenever I would come around. I realized that I would regret it for the rest of the summer if I didn't make a move, so about after about two more weeks of just smiling at her and saying hello, I approached her. I only had a few days before I was going back to my uni, so I knew it was now or never. To my suprise, she always thought I was handsome and told me she looked forward to seeing my smile whenever I came upstairs. Plus, that fucker in the men's suits department wasn't even her man. He just came over to try to block all the other brothers who might have wanted to talk to her. So we conversed on the phone a few times, but never really got to go out because she had to return to the University of Maryland Eastern Shore before I had to go back to uni. We kept in touch for awhile, but then lost track of each other. So to all my readers, if you know a Rehana that went to UMES, holler at a brother. You'll know if it's the same one I am referring to, because she is fine as all getthefuckouttatown. If you know how I can reach her and hopefully make sweet love to her after a night of fine dining and smooth jazz, e-mail me at feisalpost@hotmail.co.uk

The london area is blessed with more than it's fair share of good-looking Ethiopian women. It's to the point that you don't really notice the average or the less-than attractive Ethiopian women out here that much, because the superstars shine so brightly. I used to meet all kinds of beautiful ones at Anzu in king's cross on Sunday nights. That place used to be a gold mine. I never wrote about it on here before, because I did not want too many of y'all to come through and somalianize/kenyanize my little spot.

Now I know that sounds fucked up, especially coming from a fellow black person, but let me explain. I know some folks read the site, then see comments after each entry and assume that those are the only folks who looked at the entry. Well, it's a significantly higher number of people reading here that never leave comments at all thanx to my blog-tracker. Now, I love ALL my readers, but I don't necessarily want all you motherfuckers up at the same spot as me on the same night. Some of you might not know how to act. Come in there starting fights and smacking bartenders and shit. Hopefully, you're all civilized individuals with home training. I'm willing to bet a few dickheads slipped through the cracks, though. Just remember, I still care about you, even if you are a fuckup. Also, telling too many other dudes about a certified gold mine of good looking women almost guarantees that the next time you go, it will be a swordfight. Men always go places where there are women.I actually know dudes that go to this one club in moorgate, and wait for the male strippers to finish performing and leave, then come in to party with the drunk, horny chicks that are still there. That alone makes it safe to assume that wherever there is pussy, there will be dudes not very far behind in pursuit of it.

But yeah, caledonian road in itself is a haven of beautiful Ethiopian women. Aldgate, as well. If this area has one natural resource, it is an abundance of beautiful Ethiopian women. To my beautiful Ethiopian sisters, I tip my hat to you.

*Legal Disclaimer*

Before you non-Ethiopian women get up in arms and start talking that "Fuck you Feisal" shit, let me just say that I love and appreciate women of ALL races, ethnic backgrounds and social upbringings. I just chose to put this one group in the spotlight today. So get off my gotdamn back. Thank you :) Oh yeah...If you happen to know that girl Rehana, then you're officially not one of the folks I was referring to in paragraph 4.

BARACK OBAMA!!

2007-02-13T05:16:00.000-08:00

Get your mind out of the gutter. Today's entry is not about feisal. I just had to get your attention somehow. Now that you are here, go ahead and start reading.

its about this kenyan from SIAYA!.....A little while ago, I read this Op-Ed column written by Eugene Robinson of The Washington Post. It was in reference to Senator Joe Biden's comment describing Barack Obama as "the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy." Biden has been backpedaling for the last few days trying to clean up his words, but I have a feeling that his campaign for the Presidency will be quite possibly be the best in history after starting off this badly......obama has the charm to win this race!.....

The article went on to ask what exactly is it that white people mean when they call a black person "articulate". In my opinion, Robinson wrote a great article. When I hear people speak of Barack Obama and Condoleeza Rice as being "articulate", it gets to me, too. That should be a given for someone who has attained what they have in America. Most successful politicians are outstanding public speakers, so why should the black ones be singled out? President Bush stands out, mainly because he is one of the worst orators in modern political history. I think the only political figure out there worse than him is Governor Arnold Schwartzenegger, and everybody already knew that listening to him speak is considered a form of torture in some parts of the world.

It's almost as if people expect Obama to go onstage and quote rap lyrics like Stuart Scott on SportsCenter. Like he's supposed to give shout-outs or yell out "BROOOKLYYYYYN!!!" on the Senate floor. It's ridiculous.

[Note] To all of my readers in Brooklyn, don't act like you've never yelled that out at least once in your life. I've never even been to Brooklyn, and I have. It's pretty fun. [end note]

The craziest part is that some folks actually commented on the article site, saying that the whole thing is blown out of proportion. Let me say it one more time, slowly, for those who do not see how this is wrong: IF YOU'RE A U.S. SENATOR, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO KNOW HOW TO SPEAK PROPER ENGLISH, AS WELL AS HOW TO DRESS PROFESSSIONALLY. IT SHOULD NOT BE SUPRISING TO YOU WHEN A BLACK PERSON POSSESSES THESE ATTRIBUTES. YOU HAVE NOT JUST DISCOVERED THE MISSING LINK. THERE ARE INTELLIGENT, CHARISMATIC, WELL-DRESSED BLACK PEOPLE IN EXISTENCE. WE DON'T ALL LOOK LIKE DEM FRANCHISE BOYZ.

I'm sure this will fall on deaf ears, since the folks that need to see it probably will not come to my blog. Still, if I have enlightened at least one soul, then it was worth it.

Another Extremely Feisal Day

2007-02-02T05:10:00.000-08:00

I'm feeling good.

No...I'm feeling GRRRRRRREAT!

I can't believe i haven't had time to blog of recently my sincere apologies to all my reader's,it's been a busy month at last i've managed to get an off but Since it's another day where my swag is on a level that mere mortals such as yourself cannot begin to comprehend, I'm going to take the day off from blogging and let my ego speak for me once again. It's been awhile since the last time I put the uncut thoughts from my ego in print form. I've been letting conscience and logic act as a filter, instead of just saying the first thoughts that come to mind, not giving a damn whether or not they are socially acceptable.

It's Friday. I'm looking good. I'm smelling good. I have on clean underwear. I've already gotten my caffiene fix. Life is good, god damn it. I shall now get out of the way and let my ego speak:

Feisal's Unfiltered Ego

It's one hell of a morning! Probably because I woke up and graced it with my presence. I think the sun waited on me to sh*t, shower and shave before deciding to show it's face. It was a good decision, because had it started to rise before I gave it the O.K., I'd have to hitch a ride on the space shuttle and slap the sh*t out of it.

Yes, I'm capable of pimp-slapping the sun, so don't test me. On that note, to the parts of the world that experienced a solar eclipse last week, I offer my apologies. I had morning wood, and when I stood up to stretch, it got dark in Thailand. Ah well...Phuket.

Serena Williams' ass has been looking pretty nice since she's had this successful run in the Australian Open. She needs to let me hit that. Serena, if you're reading this, I think I'm up for the challenge! I'll take this racket of mine and serve up a few aces on your court. Then I'll let you buy me something nice in return for all the pleasurable pleasures I gave you. We can do it like that scene from "A History of Violence." Argue, then take our frustrations over to the staircase and f*ck it out!

*sniff sniff*

Something smells really good!

Oh, that's just me. I'm walking around the office smelling like a French whore. I might have to go out tonight and let the rest of the city see what they're missing! Then again, maybe I'll just stay home, watch some NBA basketball and marinate in my own greatness, only to unleash it on the unsuspecting public tomorrow. I'll just see how I feel later. Yeah...Let the world wait until I make up my mind!

I just thought about something. Some French whores don't smell good. I was not referring to them. I was talking about the high-priced ones who bathe and use au de parfums and sh*t like that. Not the ones who have yet to discover the joys of deodorant.

That's enough random shit talk for today. I'll leave you with some words of wisdom: If you're the type to actually say "F*ck Feisal. He thinks he's better than me", then I probably am. Life ain't fair. Get over it.

Have a nice weekend and i promise to be bloggin more often this month....aightttttttt!!!!

Teachers

2007-01-23T02:37:00.000-08:00

Let me begin today by saying this one sentence: I have all the respect in the world for teachers.

When I was young, I figured that all schoolteachers were out to get me, but as I grew older I realized that the majority of the educators I came into contact with were dedicated to their craft and wanted to see me succeed in life. Still, there are a few that I still somewhat believe may be spawns of Lucifer Diablo Satan, himself. One in particular, though: Mr.Kangethe.

Mr.Kangethe taught algebra mathematics at my high school. He was 6'5" tall, skinny, and looked just like moses wetangula(kenyan minister), only with an Adolph Hitler moustache. You could not ask the man a question in his class, or he would make a smart ass comment and attempt to embarass you. If you passed one of his tests, he'd give it back to you, bitter that he failed in his attempt to crush your spirit and future aspirations. If you failed one of his test, he'd hand it back smiling, then say something along the lines of "Good luck in life."

To put it nicely, the guy was an asshole. It was evident that he did not have any real desire to be teaching, and whatever it was in his life that made him miserable, he took it out on his students. Me and my friends used to talk near the back steps to his classroom, and every morning as Mr. Kangethe walked up them to get to his classroom, I hoped and prayed that he's trip and break his leg or something so we'd have a substitute for a few weeks. I know that was cold, but shit. If you had Mr. Kangethe's class, you would understand.

I also had a professor in university, Mr. Brady. I'm not sure if he's a Dr. or not, but since this is my blog...The hell with his title. I'm just calling his punk ass "Brady" today. Brady is a war vet, and to say he has issues is putting it mildly. He'd talk about MSI SCANS, then go up to someone working on a project and be like "You know what you should do to that X-RAY? You should piss on it. Let the urine soak in and give it some character. It has no character right now. So go on and piss on it."

I've seen him throw chairs like A crazy guy. I've seen him scream like a lil bitch in a horror movie. I've seen him leave notes on his office door that read "There is no class today. I am home recovering and taking my glorious drugs. Oh how I love them." You know the funny thing? Despite all this, I still somewhat respect Brady, because at least he actually does want to see the students do well, as misguided and emotionally unstable as he is. Kangethe was just mean for the hell of it. To this day, that't the only teacher I'd still greet with a "F*ck you" if I saw him in the street when i go back to nairobi. Maybe I should let it go...Nah. F*ck that.

I don't want to stray away from the original topic too far, though. I do have love and respect for those who choose to become educators. Teachers deserve more money than they get, and in this day and age, they have a lot more to deal with as far as the students are concerned. I know I'd be tempted to whup a kid's ass if I taught high school age kids.

I keep hearing about this story where a student is accusing his principal of putting his hands on him after he threw a water bottle at the principal in anger. Let me just say this to anybody thinking about throwing a damn water bottle at me: Man, woman, child or animal, if you have enough nerve to THROW A WATER BOTTLE at me, then you should be prepared to deal with some retaliation. Cause I'm retaliating. I might just throw the bottle back or shake the fuck outta you...Or I may choke slam you through a table or hang you out a window by your ankles like the shia's did to saddam. Either way, if you hit me with a water bottle, expect unpleasant consequenses.

So yeah, if I were the principal and someone I disciplined had the nerve to actually hit me with a water bottle, that would probably be my last day as principal. The headlines would read "School Principal Puts Student In Judo Hold, Drags Him Through Hallway, Takes His Lunch Money and makes him kneel walk for 2hours." I might lose my job, but you can best believe that student would never hit another teacher with a water bottle again after getting embarassed and whupped like that. Isn't that was teaching is about? Education for life.

So when I read stories like the one I just spoke of, it makes me appreciate the good teachers like mrs. Runji my swahili teacher. In 28 years of teaching, She claims to have never had a student in any of her classes that she would describe as "bad." They all seem to listen to her and respect what she says, despite her 5'2" petite sized frame. She will even see students years later as grown adults, and their eyes will light up as they come over to greet her and tell her how much they loved being in her class.i myself have made a promise to go see her as as soon as i arrive back in kenya.i would really love to see her since she used call me "headmaster wa marasta" (headmaster of rasta's) and the she used to say "feisal u need some divine help i don't think human's can understand you".It's amazing, to be quite honest looking back i really needed help.Imagine sneaking out of school to buy marijuana to sell to my schoolmates at 16 most people had given up on me....once caught in the middle of the night carrying 70kilo maize flour which i stole from the school kitchen trying to go selll it outside.....damn!wallahi that was crazy!.....i have lots of stories about my high school dayz it just need's another blog....damn this blog brought back lots of memory!!!

I Cannot Think Of Anything

2007-01-11T07:12:00.001-08:00

I HAVE WRITER'S BLOCK!!!

HELP ME PLEEEEEEEEAAAAASE!!!

For real, I'm scared. I am RARELY speechless, so when this happens, I don't know how to act.

I might start throwing steak at people down from my office window but damn the whitechapel cctv's.......lots of them for a normal hospital......damn i'm going random now!

But seriously, I need something interesting to happen...I don;t feel like sharing embarassing stories from the past today. I also don't feel like making fun of famous people. They have feelings too, dammit.i don't wanna talk about what's up in somalia i'll just go crazy on this blog......brothers it hurts thats all i can say.

Let me get back to work. Hopefully, something will come to mind. If you readers have any suggestions on topics, or any questions you want to know about me, or issues you want to hear my opinion on, let me know in the comments section......ah no!.....i think i'm gettin' soft this mind is great!........i'll come up with somethin' soon.

ok i have an a idea i'll write my random thoughts today!

I'm not giving this entry any kind of structured form. It's a pure glimpse into the random thoughts that run through my mind. I figure I may as well let you all have a peek into the warped brain that writes all these entries for your entertainent. One warning: I think I have an undiagnosed case of Adult A.D.D., so be patient as my thoughts will probaby end up all over the place thoughout this entry.

And now, a glimpse into my mind:

Damn 2 kilo's khat on a weekend afternoon feels good. Especially after helping someone move......and hell yeah i'm free off work till next wednesday!.......oh i can't miss tommorow's match BARCA vs ESPANYOL....RONALDINHO is back he hasn;t played over last 2 games since the winter break.....i hope deco ankle will be aight for him to play....c'mon puyol show dem the lion you are.......oooohhhh! damn i forgot the AFRICAN KING ETOO will back on monday!!!.......i've missed etoo a lot.

If YOU were moving, wouldn't YOU wash your dishes FIRST as opposed to just asking someone to go in your dishwasher and pack them up for you? No lie...I looked in there at those nasty, plague-infested dishes and was like "HELL NO! YOU pack up them disgusting sh*ts. I think I saw a gremlin hatching from the crock pot! YOU BETTER WASH THAT DAMN SH*T!"

I think I've now heard 6 different remixes to that Young Jeezy and Akon song "Soul Survivor", featuring verses from top notch artists like Jay Z to barely listenable acts like Tony Yayo, and all six remixes sound good. I mean, they even found Shabba Ranks for one of the versions. You know you got a hot track when that shit inspires Shabba Ranks to make a comeback..........Hell, Tupac even came back from the dead to spit a few bars with T.I. and ashanti " pac's life".........this song is killing me!....and thats why i love tupac he alwayz suprises me even from his grave!

But yeah, that beat is one of those ones where you just can't go wrong rhyming over it. Kind of like the "All About The Benjamins" beat was, or the Mobb Deep "Shook Ones" beat.

Keyshia Cole is a hoodrat. Or at least that's the impression I get from seeing her on 106th and Park. I am rather fond of her breasts, though. You don't see breast like those on many women that petite. If she decides on one hair color and gets some braces, I may have to holler at her rough-around-the-edges tombstone teeth having ass...

That was mean, wasn't it? I shouldn't have gone hard and talked about Keisha Cole's yuckmouth like that. I owe her and Fantasia apologies. Besides, if Fantasia ever reads this...oops, I mean, if someone ever reads this TO Fantasia, and she comes after me, I may be done for. She looks like she packs a pit-bull bite. Ol' Jabber Jaw ass, Mouth of the South mofo...

Damn, I can't seem to stop making fun of music people. Time to stop watching MTV BASE. It's poisioning my brain.

need to adjust my balls. The one on the left just slowly slid down as I moved over in my chair...It's people around, so I can't shift homie back up to his rightful position. Ok...they're leaving...hurry up and get the fhe fuck out...YES! I'm out of eyesight...Let me get to shifting...AHH! Back where you belong, left ball! Everythng is right in the universe again!

There you go...a small taste of my screwed up thought process. Now you understand whymy blog is as random as it is. I am just a different type of thinker for some reason. It's a blessing and a curse...But I wouldn't have it any other way.

ARE LOOKING AT MY LADY?!?!

2007-01-03T08:11:00.000-08:00

This entry may actually save somebody from suffering an unnecessary ass whupping. Since there is too much violence in this world directly attributed to folks in a jealous rage, I plan on doing what I can to heal the world. I know every straight man on Earth has at one time or another been caught glancing at someone else's lady. Hell. It's human nature to look at something attractive, for Christ's sake. Just don't be obnoxious or flagrantly disrespectful and you may even be able to pull it off in an acceptable manner.

For one thing, there is a level of respect you must give someone when they're with a lady. If a man is with a woman, and you stare, act disrespectful or say something lewd as if the guy isn't even around(or even worse, as if you KNOW he won't do shit), then don't be suprised if the man says something back, swings on you, or even stabs or shoots you. Not that it's right, but you brought that shit on your dumb ass self. I know personally, I had to be escorted out of a place by security once because someone harassed a friend of mine right in front of me. The funny shit is, we weren't even interested in each other like that. I just got mad cause the dude snatched her up and grabbed her ass right in front of me like I was some kind of punk and I wouldn't beat him within an inch of his miserable little life.

But that was the old me. And a long time ago. I'm much more gentle and non-confrontational now :)

Now, if a person were to just say something along the lines of "No disrespect, but your lady is beautiful", then the man can't get but so mad. Even if you get caught red handed trying to sneak a peek, you can say something like "For real, can you really blame me for looking? I mean DAMN! My bad, cuz."

The key is to make dude feel validated for having someone that fine on his arm, but not to make it look like you're trying to take his lady or you don't respect him. I know it may not get you any farther with the lady, but the reality of the situation is if she's walking with him, odds are she is not interested in your stankin ass, regardless of who you are. It's very rare that someone who isn't rich AND famous can just snatch a lady off her man's arm right in front of him. Most pimps don't even have that type of influence going for them with normal women.

Now, when you're God's gift to ovaries like me, or even some off brand motherfucker tham may have once acsended to a level of greatness close to mine, sometimes insecure guys will think you are trying to take their lady if you show them any attention at all.

This is where you have options. The first option, walking away, is always a safe one, but where's the fun in that?

The second option, actually start flirting with the guy's lady, may sometimes result in the ego boost of getting his lady's number slid to you on the low...But more often then not will result in fisticuffs, or if you're dealing with an Ike Turner type, domestic violence once the couple gets home. Neither is good.

The third option is usually the one I choose. The smartass option. Let me first warn anyone who uses this option: Think wisely before you decide to use this method. To be a true smartass, you have to be SMART. If you say something that is not witty, or something that is not somewhat over the head of the person you're clowning, then you only make yourself look like an ass. Plus, you may get the shit slapped out of you by both the boyfriend AND the girlfriend. Let me give you a true life example of a smart ass comment that got me out of a situation but then stung dude a little later.

It was a few weeks ago at "SAM'S" a.k.a. The Common Share IN central london(where else...). This ethiopian, Sherman Klump looking fellow was there with a suprisingly good looking somali woman on his arm. So I'm watching football, cracking jokes and minding my business, when his lady laughs at something I said and makes a joke of her own about the same football player(might have been talking about tottenham's danny murphy apple-headed ass. That dude has a fat man's head on a skinny man's body...but back to the story). So dude kept cutting his eyes over to her and then back to me, not even trying to be subtle about it. Then he slides over forcibly in beween where I'm standing and where she is, as if to mark his territory. It was so obvious, he may as well have whipped his dick out and pissed on her leg. So she says something about it, and I interject and say "Nah, it's cool...I understand. If I were you, I'd want folks to know that was my lady, too. She's really good looking. That's a good look for a brother like you."

At first dude kinda smiled...By the time he realized that I was basically saying "How the in the hell did a sloppy motherfucker like YOU pull a woman like HER?!!" I was halfway across the bar talking to the folks I was originally joking around with. See..that was joning with stealth and precision. I didn't even have to strike hard to cut deep.

So there you have it. Follow my advice, and there should be far less violence directly related to vagina this winter. Thank you very much. God bless you. Good night.

THE UKRANIAN TRIP (PART 2)

2006-12-29T13:26:00.000-08:00

Ok y'all...I have a lot of stuff on my mind...but since I promised the second part of the Ukranian story, here 'goes...

First of all, since I was the only black male on the trip, and the only male traveling from my uni, period, I kind of had to be mindful of my behavior out there. I was the only African person most of these ukranians had ever seen in real life. So because of this, I was somewhat forced into becoming the unofficial "Ambassador Of All Black People" while I was out there. We had two question and answer sessions to educate folks about American( not to say i've ever considered myself american) life. Guess what almost every one of my questions were about?

If you guessed anything other than race, then you probably should just stop reading right now. Slow people don't need to be on the internet.

But back to the Q&A sessions. They asked me shit like "Do they spray you all with water hoses or attack you with dogs?" or "Do you know Coolio? What about M.C. Hammer?"

So yeah, I had to actually address shit like this without being a jackass and hurting anyone's feelings. The ONLY images of black people they had ever seen were the sterotypical representaions you see on television and in the movies. So I felt that I couldn't be the "Angry Black Man", the "Lazy Shiftless Bastard", the "Oversexed Black Coon" or the "Loud Obnoxious Con Artist Nigga." It was bad enough that I made them believe that all black guys could play ball earlier in the gym...I had to make up for it as far as with the other stereotypes.

One question from the Q&A actually got some chick in trouble. She asked me "Do you have any children" to which I responded "NOOOOOOO". So she then stands up again, grabs her chest, and says "Do you want any?" The professor from my school was hating and making jokes about that the rest of the week, but I was rather flattered by the outright sluttery displayed by this Ukranian lady. It's a good example for all women everywhere who hope to someday approach me and start conversation ;)

The other story is actually two condensed into one. It was the day after we'd left donetsk to go back to Kiev. As we were getting ready to board a train for Kiev, a group of skinheads came over. One of them grabbed my professor and said "Yankee go home!" So I hear this and turn around to get a look at who said it. As I turned in their direction, this bitch ass frail looking skinhead pointed at me and said "LOOK! NIGGER!" It was as if he'd never had an actual chance to call someone this before. He seemed almost happy to see my black ass. So I was faced with two options: Option 1, take the bottle I had in my hand and crack it over his skull, or Option 2, walk away.

I was kind of angry, but a few thoughts ran through my mind really quickly. The first thought was that even though the skinhead who actually called me the N-word was small, the other five were kinda big. The biggest one looked just like that old school wrestler King Kong Bundy. He was THAT big. I know none of those punk asses from the other US uni's would have had my back if I got in a fight with that guy. The second thought that ran through my mind was the image of the hospital in donetsk. Picture the front of Fred and Lamont's house on Sanford and Son, only with containers of medical junk outstide...That's what it looked like. If you end up there, you're pretty much a goner. The last thought I had was that if a ukranian hospital looked like that, I can't even imagine what a ukranian jail looks like. I'll be damned if I end up in one of those.

So I decided to walk away and just be a nigger that day. The train police chased the skinheads away pretty quickly, so it was the right move.

The funny thing was, once I got on the train...still filled with Angry Black Man rage, I ran into some other African Americans...and not just any African Americans, but the Preservation Hall Jazz Band based out of New Orleans. They were just as happy to see another black face as I was. Very cool folks. Once we got to kiev, they took me to a Georgian resturant(for free), then gave me front row tickets and a backstage pass for their show that night. I almost even got some Ukranian groupie ass since folks thought I was in the band, but the groupies decided they wanted the white guy who played the bass...go figure. Either way, that was definitely a fun experience. If the Preservation Hall Jazz Band is ever in your town, I recommend checking them out. GREAT music, played by a bunch of cool people.

Alright y'all...That's enough ukranian stories for you. I actually do have more, but I would be typing all night long and you'd probably get sick of reading it all. I guess if you have any questions about the trip, feel free to ask me...Either in the comments section, or if you know me in person, go ahead and ask next time you see me......have a happy eid y'all!!!.......and happy new year!!!

THE UKRANIAN TRIP (PART 1)

2006-12-19T05:26:00.000-08:00

Today ladies and gentlemen, I am going to discuss my first(and sadly, my only) experience traveling to eastern europe. In 2001, I was selected to do an exchange student program for about a month and a half in Ukraine. The areas I stayed in was in kiev, ukraine. I'm not even going to lie to you all, I didn't want to go at first. My brother(hakeem currently a convict in san diego) and my mentor mwangi pretty much stayed on me until I wrote an essay for the selection committee. When I was selected, they were extremely happy, and I was thinking to myself "SHIT!"

My friends were all putting negative stuff in my ear, too. Talking about "You're gonna be the only black person in that entire country. Man, don't go over there. You know they still got Nazis".

To which I responded "You dumb fuck. ukraine fought against the Nazis...Read a book you...simpleton."

The funny thing is, I DID run into some skinheads out there, but I'll get to that in part 2.

As the trip drew closer, I got more and more excited about going. There were a few drawbacks...For instance, I was the only black person and the only male from my university going on the trip. Plus, they tried to teach me how to read cyrillic and speak Russian in what amounted to less than one month's time. That shit would have been hard if I didn't have other classes and a job...but since I did have other classes and a job, I didn't learn much before leaving for my trip.

The pluses far outweighed the minuses, though. My host brother Dima was about as cool as they come. He helped me with translations, and I helped him with his people skills. Plus, his family was wonderful. The grandma would come over almost every day and fix some really good meal. It's funny, because we had fish(coz practically thats the only halal thing i trusted) and potatoes almost every time she cooked, but she never made that shit the same way twice the whole time I was there. I didn't even know there were that many ways to prepare fish and potatoes. Folks thought I wasn't going to eat much out there, but I actually gained weight. The only funny thing about the family was that I still to this day do not know if Dima's family was a member of the Ukranian Mafia or not. His dad owned a fishing business, and most of the businesses in town after the fall of Communism were run by the mob. You could tell the mob folks when you saw them, cause they would have on flamboyant shiny ass Puffy and Mase style designer suits, while the rest of the country wore old 80s looking outfits like Levis and t shirts. Dima's pops never wore anything like that, but he did enough suspicious stuff to make you wonder about him.

The university was my favorite part of the trip. That's where I became Feisal: International Celebrity. First of all, damn near every girl there wanted a piece of me. I think they read or heard about the sterotype that black dudes have big abdalla's, cause that shit was constant. I was getting gifts at school almost on a daily basis. At first, I wasn't thinking about those Ukranian women, but after about 2 weeks of so away from black women, I started to notice that some of them were actually pretty. And no, they weren't all big hairy bohemoths...There were plenty of girly girls who shavewd their legs and cleansed. The one that actually wore me down was VERY pretty. I never did it to her(for fear that I may come back with some ukranian disease that wasn't even in the States yet...I was ignorant about russians as hell back then), but we had a routine: after uni, we'd meet up with our mutual friends, get folks to translate some shit talk(she spoke no English), and then drink vodka and make out. What started it was the day she went up to my host brother and had him teach her how to say "Feisal, I'm cold. Hold me." That showed me that she had a little bit of Russian game in her. I wonder what Aksana is up to these days...Probably married to one of those shiny suit mobsters or something.

The university's basketball court made me a celebrity, too. The way the Ukranian school system was set up, the gifted athletes went to certain schools, the intellectuals went to other schools, and the Joe Schmoe average motherfuckers had their own school. The one I was at was an intellectual school. The ukranian students there had to be fluent in either English or German just to attend it. So these guys were not exactly athletically inclined. The only athletes at the school were the boxers that trained in the basement of the school and only came up to run and eat.Once I got on the court with the guys at the school, I showed my ass. No look passes...coast to coast layups past all five defenders...Pullup threes from NBA range...I even tried to dunk on one of them(back then I could dunk with one hand). They thought I was Jordan, Magic and Bird all rolled into one 6'0" frame. Someone even asked me whether or not I was going to the NBA. I said "Only if they make a league for people 6'5 feet tall and under."

My basketball shenanigans were exposed later in the trip. Folks heard about my game, and I got invited to play at another school. What they didn't tell me was that the guys at this school were the best players in their region. I'm talking about folks training for the Olympics type of good. So the inevitable happened...They busted my ass out there. I maintained respectability, but I was in a state of shock and awe. That's about as helpless as I'd ever felt on a basketball court. I shook everyone's hand after I left, but I know they were probably talking shit after I left. Saying shit like "Look at the 'Big Bad AMERICAN!'(coz they all thought me coming from american uni i was american) I told you they are WEAK! They cannot hang with Mother Ukraine!"

Either way, it was fun. Look out for part two, where I'll discuss being Ambassador Of All Black People, The Skinhead Incident, and other stories from the trip. I have too many to just put them in one entry......i'll write them up once i have an off day.........by the way has anyone else been experiencing posting comments or is just me......can't post any on any blog it simply refuses.....don't know 4real!.

I Can't Be Even Be Mad At This?

2006-12-14T05:57:00.000-08:00

Good morning,...........i just heard to say that this morning haven't that to somebody in a while.

Today, I was reading some messageboard, and the topic of racism came up. People were sharing stories about racist things that happened to them recently. As I read about the things that other folks have gone through in 2006, it reminded me of something that happened to me about a month ago down in near kensington.

I was on the commuter bus headed home from collegues house, when this drunk, smelly, disheveled white couple got on. Of course, since smelly people always seem to know when I'm taking the bus or train, they sat their stankin' asses down about two rows from me on the opposite side of the bus. Still WELL within traveling distance for their booze and underarm stench to reach my nostrils.

Since the only folks on the bus at that time were them, the bus driver, an older nigerian lady in the very back of the bus, and myself, everyone could hear their conversation.

They began talking about somebody named Ronnie, and the man called him a nigger. So then the woman agreed and said she "can't stand that guy because he's nothing but a nigger."

So I looked right at the man when he said it, and he looked at his lady and tried to backpedal a little. He said "All black people aren't always niggers, but Ronnie is a God-damned nigger."

So my first thought was, how the fuck can these filthy, dirty, skinny, scab-covered, smelly, alcoholic, homeless-looking pieces of shit have the NERVE to look down on anyone else? Have they looked in a mirror lately? When was the last time they bathed? It doesn't even make sense to get mad at these dumb bitches.

Still, I was tempted to say something to him. I just let it go, because I knew as drunk as the guy was, I was probably going to end up having to knock his dumb ass out. It wasn't even the fighting thing that made it unappealing...Knocking that fool out and making his lady cry might have been pretty fun. I just didn't want to TOUCH that motherfucker. Those folks were THAT disgusting. I took a photo on my cameraphone, but it came out too grainy to really see what he looks like. I was going to put him here on the blog and make him famous with a caption that said "If you see this wino lying on the london (kensington high) streets, KICK HIM. HARD. He thinks you're a nigger anyway, so fuck it." Alas, the cameraphone failed me, so I can't turn this into an "investigative journalism" piece and hopefully inspire someone to kick him in the ribs or piss on his jacket while he passed out drunk next to a underground station or on a park bench. Either way, it appears that life has already laid the smackdown on that fool, so I guess it was for the best.....how ignorant are this english pricks?......any way i'm having a nice day happy mood feel like chewing khat(gomba).....we'll see......later's

Helping My Fellow Somali Man

2006-12-11T12:18:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I was on a train headed to my cousin house in harlesden north west london, when I saw something that saddened me, but also made me feel helpless since it was none of my damn business so I could not offer any assistance. The train stopped at paddington, and these art students got on. This really pretty young somali lady, 5'6" dark skinned, nice ass, beautiful smile etc., got on the train and sat across from me. So before I got a chance to slide across to the edge of my seat and say hello, this somali guy came and sat down right next to me. I know what you're thinking: ANOTHER somali dude was cock-blocking. I don't think that was the case, though. They were apparently classmates, because the two started talking about school stuff.

Once they stopped talking, I noticed something: somali guy was looking visibly nervous and started writing on the folded up piece of paper that he had in his hand. Of course, I had to read what he was writing, because someone sitting directly next to me on public transportation looking that nervous was cause for alarm. He might have been trying to take the train hostage. I had to make sure I wasn't going to have to whip his ass Harrison Ford style and save the day for everyone.

Thankfully, it wasn't what I thought. He was writing a note to that girl in his class. The note had her name on it, then it said "Will you have dinner with me?" Right before he could give it to her, the train stopped, and she jumped off with some of the other women in her class and ran off the train. somali man looked so dejected and sad. I felt bad for him, but I couldn't really say shit to him since I wasn't supposed to be reading the note. So now, I am going to put my advice here in the hopes that he actually sees this and reads it. Anonymous somali Art Student, the lines below are for you:

My friend, the first thing you need to do is acquire some confidence. Remember this one mantra: "There is no such thing as out of your league. As soon as you consider a woman out of your league, that is the exact moment that she actually becomes out of your league." It's like in sports. If you try to play any game with no confidence, your odds of success are few. You have to believe that you can achieve it. You're already in there with her part of the way, since she speaks to you. All you have to do now is tell her how much you like her and how you want to lick every inch of her smooth sexy chocolate body.

Ok. Leave out the part about giving her a tongue bath. That only works once she's already touched your abdalla. On purpose, that is. I'm not talking about incidental contact, cause that shit does not count.

To acquire the confidence to approach her in a manner befitting a man and not a nervous little beeyatch, remember these two things:

1.) Rejection is not as bad as most people think. Especially if you aim high. Since you're going after someone pretty, no one will blame you for trying if she happens to say no. They'll probably respect you more for having the balls to step to her. So don't even think about how bad a "no" would be, because trust me, it won't be bad since she likes you enough already to engage in conversation with you.

2.)You gain the confidence to talk to women like that by accentuating your positive attributes and either downplaying the negative ones, or ignoring them altogether. I usually choose to downplay my faults instead of acting like they're not there. I mean, I'm impatient, I tend to talk fast, and my money still hasn't made it to where it needs to be yet. Despite this, I feel like I have at least a 70% chance with any woman that I am attracted to. 20% of the no's are either married or lesbians, and the last 10% just flat out has bad taste. I feel this way because I accentuate my positive traits(my sense of humor, infectious smile, charm, style, creativity, etc.) and use those to increase my appeal.

Hope this helped you, my brother. If not, I will print this out and carry it with me next Monday in case I see you out there again. That said, I'm giving you until then to try your hand with that sexy ass girl with the nice legs and pretty skin, or it's open season. That should help increase your sense of urgency, knowing that a gentleman of leisure like such as myself is going to get at her if you don't. No pressure, walalo...No pressure.

It is NEVER a Surprise

2006-12-08T10:30:00.000-08:00

at last!!.....god it's been long since i typed on my blog......fuckin NHS has holding me up with no off days.....alhamdulillah i'm free till next wednesday....lemme tell ya all something......it was saturday last week i decided to run out to grab a couple of things from Tesco's. This shouldn't take long at all. No holiday rush, it's a work day, AND mfs should be on the road. I'm good. So I thought.

I get my shyt I came for and get in line. Some random girl with a rack of shyt is in front of me. I'm daydreaming, thinkin' about what imma eat when I get home, when I realize..."DAMN, I've been standing here a WHILE." So I direct my attention to random lady in front of me. She has this shocked look on her face. You have GOT to be bullshyttin' me.........

The total on the register says, "£122.79."
This mf pulls out a debit card and says, "Scan this first to see how much is on there."
Did I hear her right?
The cashier says, "£17.00."
Random Girl replies, "Well, pay £15.00 off that, and then scan these to see wassup."

-- HOLD THE FUKK UP!! --

You got the cashier scanning 4 different cards, readin' you the balance of each like she works for Bank of scotland? And get this. She's paying £15 on each card, and the remaining balance in cash? WTF. When you gotta use each of your credit/debit cards to "take a lil bit off" the overall balance, and STILL gotta come outta your pocket.....STAY DA FUKK HOME!!

She standing up there lookin' shocked. This ain't a surprise. You just gon' fake like you didn't KNOW you was broke? Bytch, you knew yesterday. Hell....you knew on your way TO the mf store. Even if you didn't know for a fact, you had SOME doubt floatin' around in your head. That alone, should make you at least CHECK. In the front of the line, after your total is displayed is a little late in the game to check.

And you got BIG SHYT being rung up too.....big candles, a mf blender, cereal, 2 pair of jeans, detergent, and a 12 pack of paper towels. Oh, and some DVD's. Now, you wanna smile at me and apologize. Tryin' to strike up conversation and include me in your broke azz world. I TOOK the time yesterday to move MY cash around so this shyt wouldn't happen to ME. AND....this is supposed to be my LAST time doing ANY mf shopping until after idd. Now, you done fukked THAT up.

The moral of the mf story: It's NEVER a surprise that you're broke.

Talking about my job i just have to let it out.......I HATE STATISTICS!!!

Although I was never a hardcore stat-head, I had to endure the requisite statistical methods courses in both college and grad school as part of my radiological training. (The ugliest course requirements repeat themselves, the first time as tragedy, the second time as farce.) Although they were billed as the 'empirical' part of the discipline, I regarded them as the purest mysticism, and, with the benefit of hindsight, still do

Anybody with even the faintest whiff of mathematical training, or intuition, or common sense, can spot flaws in most of the statistics used to make decisions. That's not a shot at the folks generating the statistics – they/we know perfectly well that most of the information is partial, somewhat corrupted by flawed collection methods, and extremely hard to isolate from other variables. (“they changed the department requirements last year, and this year the cases went up 5%. Clearly, the new MRI is responsible.” Um, not really...) The problem, other than the fatal combination of small samples and sheer complexity, is that most of what we want to know derives from problems we didn't anticipate, so we didn't think to collect the data at the time that would address the question we hadn't thought of yet.........SO COZ I WASN'T WHEN THEY WERE DOING THEIR PRE-ANNUM STATS WHY INVOLVE ME I JOINED WHITECHAPEL IN AUGUST....ITS SIMPLE I SHOULD BE DEALING WITH NExT YEAR'S STAT'S!......i don't know how i will get out that shit without sounding rude or arrogant!!

ohh the good thing that happened this week was BARCELONA winning against WERDER BREMEN and qualifing 4 the next round.....Barcelona, moreover, may be about to prosper. Samuel Eto'o and Lionel Messi are yet to return from injury, while RONALDINHO is in such form that Eidur Gudjohnsen left the Nou Camp saying: "One of these days he will make the ball talk."........Even by Ronaldinho's standards his was an exceptional performance, capped by a goal that had his colleagues talking animatedly about an hour after the final whistle. Seeing that Werder Bremen's players were going to jump in the wall at a free-kick, Ronaldinho struck the ball under them and Barcelona had their breakthrough in the 13th minute.

this is what gudjohnsen said after the game " Before the game, the manager just said to enjoy it. What happens, happens but he said to imagine the people who dream of playing in front of 100,000 fans and to experience a fantastic night like this. For me, playing for Barcelona has been everything I dreamed of and more. You can understand why every footballer in the world dreams of playing for Barcelona. Everything about the club, the stadium, the fans, the build-up - and the best player in the world."
TO CAP IT UP I LOVE BEING A BARCELONA FAN!!.......FORCA BARCA!!......SIEMPRE ESTARE CONTIGO!....PORQUE YO SABE QUE SIGNIFICA MAS QUE UN CLUB!!!!!

CRAZY GUY FROM OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD!!

2006-11-29T09:50:00.000-08:00

I'm about to share a little life experience with you all, so let me know if anybody can relate to this here. I'm going to tell you all what it was like growing up in a neighborhood that has a crazy person in it.

My guess is, most people that weren't privelaged to live in some kind of rich gated community, probably had at least one, maybe two, crazy people living in their neighborhood. Hell, some of the folks in gated communities had crazy neighbors, too. They just call crazy people "eccentric" when they're rich. But where i was born in eastleigh nairobi had its fair share of them.

Well, growing up, there were a number of people in my neighborhood who fit the desription of crazy, such as a few drug addicts and messed up guyz (some used to say they have been bewitched), but there was one guy who literally struck fear in everybody that walked past his part of the neighborhood. This guy's name was MOGAKA!!. When we were kids, everybody in school was scared shitless of Mogaka. He was about 6 feet tall, slim, really darkskinned, but he had some of the scariest eyes this side of Satan. I never saw them any color other than yellow or bloodshot red. Mogaka wasn't some big muscle bound extra strong dude, but everyone feared him because you could look at him and know that brother was CRAZY. What really made his scary is you never knew what to expect when you saw him. Plus, sometimes he would show up out of nowhere like some kind of crunchy-black ass evil nigga demon from the 5th level of Hell. Just wreaking havoc and whatnot.

There were so many urban legends floating around about that guy, you never knew what to believe. It's said that he stabbed a kid before and did prison time, which may or may not be true cause he was about 30 years old when us school kids used to see him wandering around the neighborhood like the Ghost's of mombasa..I mean, The Ghost of CHANG'A Past. Another story was that he always carried this big ass knife with him. I don't know if he ALWAYS had it on him, but I once saw him with some Crocodile Dundee shit on his waist on the 7th street in eastleigh runnin' after a cat. Tell me a sane reason to carry a Crocodile Dundee knife on your side when you're runnin' after a cat from about a block and a half from your house, and I will leave it alone...but right now it adds up as INSANITY to me. Another story I heard was that he would have sex with anybody or anything, depending on his mood. I wasn't about to find out if that one was true.

All I know is, if you happened to be in any mathree(kenyan buses) whenever Mogaka walked in, that shit got quiet in a hurry. Folks would start ducking in the aisles talking about "Oh shit! it's Mogaka!" Nobody wanted to get shot, stabbed, robbed, or raped out back behind the bus, so we gave that evil-looking wierdo the utmost respect. Sometimes's he'd nod and say "Hello"...others, he'd be like "Fuck you little motherfuckers." Regardless of what was said, he always had the same evil expression on his face. That nigga was harder than NWA Jheri Curl Ice Cube.

The funny thing is, folks would talk shit after he left, and someone would always be like "You ain't say all that shit when Mogaka was in here!"

And you know what? That person would be right. It was library silence when that dude came around. The boldest kids would get up the nerve to yell out something like "Fuck you Mogaka!" or "umbwa wewe mogaka!"(you dog) out of the moving bus window as it was driving off. Even then, that person and everyone sitting near him would duck down in the seat so Mogaka wouldn't see who did it and wait at the bus stop after school.

Nairobi has it's share of crazies, but I still have yet to see anybody that feared dor just being crazy. It's different in a place like Eastleigh, though. That fool Mogaka would have probably gotten shot by one of those kids he terrorized at some point had he been here till today. The only memorable crazy person I see all throughout the city(mostly in haile sellasie avenue or Gill house) is the one guy who always walks around in a fireman's hat and yells obscenities at people walking by. The secret to him is to not look scared. Most women and old people speed up their walk or try to cross the street to avoid him. His secret was revealed one day when this 19 year old somali man(i think he had just arived from somalia and didn't know swahili) got really angry and ran up on him. The guy in the fireman's hat took off up the street looking back to make sure he wasn't being chased. From then on, I realized that he could dish it out, but he can't take it. Plus, he's not THAT crazy. Ol' boy probably thought the young guy was a member of SHIFTA or something.

Either way, if you can relate to these stories about the crazy fool in your neighborhood, please share in the comments section.

Also, if you know Mogaka(since I know one of my readers grew up near that man's street), and if the rumors of his demise aren't true, don't tell him I wrote about him. I'm a grown man now, so I thinkI might can take him if he tries something...but still. I don't want to walk on 7th street in eastleigh one day and get stabbed with a Crocodile Dundee knife by some old-ass red eyed nigga just for something I typed here. If you love me, you'll keep Mogaka from seeing this.

Once again, not that I'm scared...Cause I ain't no damn punk.........baadhen basi!!

london underground Strikes Again!!

2006-11-25T05:46:00.000-08:00

Yes ladies and gentlemen, London Publlic Transportation has struck again. I have had many misadventures and comedic things happen on the Underground, so it never ceases to provide a source of inspiration for humorous stories to write about. Besides the bus, what other place on Earth can you see all of these things in one trip by itself:

A large woman literally slide out of her seat and roll onto the aisle like a roly-poly bug.........It wasn't funny until she did the universal "I'M ALRIGHT! I'm ALL-RIGHT!" sign by extending both of her hands out and downwards really quickly as she got herself together. It happened right near me, so I had to try to hold in my laugh as I picked up a couple of items from her bag and passed them to her. The lady across from me saw my smirk and noticed me looking away. She started chuckling, and that was it. I could hold it in no longer. I had to try to fake like I was coughing, but I doubt anyone believed it. Ah well.

An insane man's conversation with God. This very loud guy was talking to the bus driver about spirituality, and he said this quote: "Sometimes you just gotta talk to God and praise him. You just need to tell him how you feel. The other day I was at home and I said 'Hey God! F you!' I know I'm just this big and he's huge, but sometimes you just gotta tell 'em how you feel. God is good. Praise him!"

Now I don't even know what to say about that one, other than I hope I am not standing next to that man when lighning strikes his crazy @ss.

Getting shot down without even saying a word to a chick. The young lady that was sitting across from me when I first got on the train was cute. So when sat down, I gave her a little smile since I'm a flirt and that's what flirts do. She responded by smiling back, but then started messing with her phone and acting as if she were checking her messages or something. So I pulled out my newspaper and thought to myself "Ok. No flirting for me this morning. Let me look in here and see if this free paper (londonlite) if someone has beaten chelsea." Of course, they did not. west ham of whom i have a lil bit of a soft spot didn't manage to beat chelsea. It's never as simple as me opening up the paper and seeing this fucker's being whopped except that i find a lil bit solace MAN U leading the premier league.....back to my story

When I glanced up from my paper, I happened to see the girl faking like she was on the phone with someone. Unfortunately for her, it actually started to ring in the middle of her fake conversation. I just shook my head with an expression similar to the frustrated caveman dealing with discrimination then went back to my reading.

I didn't even look back at her to see if she was embarassed or not. I could only think: Was all that really necessary? Did I really look like I was going to bother her to the point that she had to talk to her imaginary friend and pretend to use up her daytime minutes? I should have said something smart, but I figured that her looking about as crazy as the conversation with God guy was karma's way of telling her she played herself.

Believe it or not, all of this happened within the span of a 15 minute train ride. As I said before, London underground never ceases to amaze me in the morning.

CLUB 55

2006-11-21T09:58:00.000-08:00

Any of you readers ever been to Club 55? If so, then you already know that today's entry is going to be crazy.

For those unfamiliar with Club 55, it is a "gentleman's establishment" where ladies "entertain onstage" sans clothing. It's a grimy, hole-in-the-wall spot located on a somewhat seedy part of South London in brixton. Not at all for the faint at heart.

That said, "Trina" dances there, so that makes it worth the trip. Of couse I'm not talking about the real Trina. It's this sexy little lady with a really big ass who strips there. She looks a lot like Trina in the face, but has a booty that easily puts Serena Williams and J-Lo to shame. No competition. Like, her butt is so nice, that it could bring about world peace. Or start World War 3 should she choose to use her powers for evil instead of good. She's Ass-tastic. Ass-tacular. Ass-tounding. Ass-nificient.

So Friday night, I ended up making a trip to Club 55 after watching casino royale. I went with two trinidadian ladies who i got to know through steve(workmate), and we were going to meet up with some other folks that we knew who were already there. The plan sounded like a good one, but it all fell apart once we got to the club.

One of the ladies I came with left with one of her friends for a very long time...I'm not going to assume that anyone was getting fucked or getting high, but I can't think of much else two people could have been doing that long. Then again, I'm probably just going with the worst case scenario since things fell apart after they went on their little excursion. The chick that stayed with me was on her way to being drunk as hell, and I had just met her that night. Things went from us chillin, looking at the dancers(mainly Trina), to her grinding on me with her breasts halfway coming out of her top, to me basically holding her drunk ass up so she doesn't fall on the floor.

So we waited and waited for her girl to come back, and I took her over to the front of the club to keep security from giving us a hard time. Also, that way, if she had to throw up, she would be closer to the front door and the bathroom. Boy, did she choose the wrong place to be a drunk female at...That shit was comedy. Every dude that walked past us came to me and was like "You need to fuck the shit out her. She nice and ready!" Nevermind the fact that she can't walk on her own. Nevermind that she was slipping in and out of consciousness and was basically dead weight at that point. I was supposed to take her out back and wear her out according to strip club logic.

Then again, I can't act TOTALLY innocent. I did accidentally let her rub on my soul pole for awhile...and when her breasts were popping out, I adjusted them for her. I mean if I didn't who would have?

The worst point in the night came when this group of four of the grimiest, most gutter, obviously-been-to-prison-before, look-like-they-just-got-through-beating-someone's-ass brixton motherfuckers walked in the door. These guys looked like they all lived hard lives. Like you could strike a match off their faces to light your cigarette the way they did in the old Westerns. The type of people who had NOTHING to lose in a fight. Breaking a nose might actually IMPROVE their looks.

Well, the ringleader of the group saw ol' girl laying there with her breasts halfway out again, and then said to me "Ay cuz, I know she with you...I'll give you £20 if you let me touch her titty. YOU BETTER PIMP HER MAN!"

I can't lie, I had to laugh at that shit. But when I saw all those dudes reaching in their pockets and pulling out £20s, I had to tell them no. As much as I could have used a quick $80 for babysitting her drunk ass, I figured that would technically make me a pimp. As much as I joke about that shit, I don't really want to actually start selling that chick's body for cash.

Although she probably never would have known...Ah well. I did the right thing. Let me just leave it alone, shit.

Eventually, we got her home, her friend came back, and I got to meet "Trina" the next night at another club. She remembered me from babysitting the drunk girl the night before, which made it easy for me to talk my shit and work the charm. So I guess it wasn't all bad. Let me go ahead and end this post now before I start singing "I'm In Luv With A Stripper" or something. The end.

AM I A FLIGHT RISK??

2006-11-15T05:21:00.000-08:00

I've been slow in updating the past week. There's a good reason, though. I flew to Sevilla and Bonn from last wednesday for a week-long conference. Ok...WHERE are the black folks out this mf cities especially Bonn couldn't believe we were only 2 black's in that mf confrence in which i didn;t learn anything except what i call free holiday 4 no reason...... c'mon NHS its time to stop wasting taxpayer's money ........was particularly impressed with Sevilla really nice place in general,nice people or was it because i could speak espanol muy bien.....enjoyed that much coz i went to watch Sevilla vs Racing at Estadio Ramon Sanchez Pizjuan really liked how sevilla played they really have a good team but i'm still gunning for barcelona to still win la liga nad inshallah champions league!!!!

back to ranting!

But anyway, on the last 3 flights I've taken, I always manage to get stopped for what they call "random mf searches." Hmmm.

Now, I'm not all for these post 9/11 or 7/7 security measures, but EVERY mf time I fly, I'm gettin' an extra search. And not the normal "walk through the metal detector check." NAW!! I get the "Um, sir....can you gather your things and stand over here by yourself, cuz we about to dig ALL THROUGH your shyt" check. WTMF!! I know I'm angry and shyt when i see any authority its something inbred in me, but now I'm a mf flight risk, too?

Obviously, this is some old racial profilin' shit...but how you gon' pick and choose with your profiling. Be consistant with your shyt. You stop ME, but my co-worker Steve Boyle(carribean) walks by unMFtouched?? Ain't this a bytch?! Why I gotta take off my shirt if the metal detector didnt' beep when I walked through it? Punk bastard! Steve got a box that's leaking, but you goin' through MY mf suitcase. I'm not saying he's gonna set some shyt off, but if I get a random search, then by DEFAULT, this mf should get one. Why? Just ME.

So get this. I gotta open ALL my mf bags, take off my shirt, belt, shoes, hat, while mfs are FLYIN' through their security checks. Then, two big azz armed guards roll up on me, asking me to explain why there's a stethoscope in my carry on bag.what am i gonna do with it??.......FOOL!!....all this is happenin' at Bonn airport!!......

ohh!!.......the shit gets worse when i landed...."somehow" my bag was lost. Can it get worse than this???......DAMN!!

AAAAaaaahhh!!!

I'm SO mf tired of checking my email at work, and finding all these messages that say, "Pass this on to 10 people and you'll be blessed in the next hour." WTF. Come on, man....If I wasn't blessed up until this point, me clickin' "forward" ain't gon do shyt. DELETE!!

Or I get those ones that try to guilt you into forwarding it. Saying, it will only take 60 seconds to do this.....and how we devote more time to lesser shyt like jokes, and videos. You damn straight!! Cuz them Youtube videos are funnier than ur mf. So guess what? DELETE!!

And this never fails to bother me. You ever got an email from a friend especially from christians friends(the so-called saved) asking for a mf favor (usually cash)....but at the end of their email, suddenly, there's a bible passage in it? WHAT??!!......why put ya faith in this shit?.....just ask without quotin' any passages........hey i'm muslim!!!.....some of them goes like this....

"Hey man....how's it going? I need a favor this week. Lemme hold £50 bro i'm broke n u know how it is down this side. You know I got u."
- Luke 2:14: "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests."

Is that how you feel, man? Now, you bringin' the LORD into this? What HE got to do with you needin' £50?? You don't need quotin' scripture. See, normally I would do like I did with the other emails and hit delete. But see, this is different. This time, I ended my response just as appropriately as he ended his request.

Sup....you might be a lil short this week. Money is tight on this end, as well."

2 Chronicles 24:21 - ".....by order of the king, they stoned him to death in the courtyard...."

damn!!...i understand u need something but bro why make me bring out my bad side.......why use ur faith on me......c'mon u should just come straight i'll try my best to help ya!!

Just had to get that out........WOW!!!........what a week!!!

I Will Be Defiant To The End

2006-11-07T03:58:00.000-08:00

I have killed.

Before any of you punk-ass snitches start alerting the authorities and checking to see if there's any reward money, let me explain. I killed a bug on Sunday over at my sister's apartment. This wasn't any old bug, though. This bug was unlike any I've ever seen. Picture a wasp, but imagine that wasp has been to prison and spent years on the yard lifting weights and smoking cigarettes. If any of you have seen the WWE wrestler stonecold, imagine that brother with wings and a stinger. That's what I was up against.

I can't lie, when I first saw that big, husky creature fly past me, I ran into the living room yelling for Audhubillah!!. I thought maybe I had finally crossed the line and Shaitan's black angels were coming to pull me down to Hell for all of my jokes against the shitties, the ignorant, and the smelly people of the world. When I looked back and realized it was just a big ass bug, I decided that it had to pay for it's intrusion, and for making me run like a bitch at my sister's place. It was going to be the wasp, or me. Someone was sending someone else to meet it's maker.

I really shouldn't have typed that last sentence, because now you know how the story is going to end. Since wasps can't type...Hell, even if that particular wasp could type, the motherfucker does not know my password or screenname. So since you know that I'm writing this, you know Mr. Wasp caught a bad one.

Mr. Wasp did not go down easy, though. I sprayed it with Raid flying insect spray to get it to fall to the ground. Once it was down and I spotted it, I took a flyswatter and struck down with GREAT VENGEANCE and FUUUUUURIOUS ANGER! I basically swung as hard as I could when I saw the wasp was down, hoping to splatter it on the floor. To my suprise, the wasp was still moving his legs, with a little bit of black blood(or whatever it was) over near the side of him. One leg was moving slower than the rest, as if to say "Is that the best you got?" It took three more hits from the flyswatter to effectively kill that jailyard wasp. The sad thing is, I was swinging on that wasp like I was in a real fight. Like I caught him trying to steal my wallet or something. That's what made it disheartening. All that aggression, and it still took four hits to finish him.

Still, I had to open up a can of "whup ass" and a box of "beat the black off you" on on that wasp. Animal Rights can kiss my ass. No way was I letting that thing live so it could sting the shit outta me or my sister. If they try to come after me, I'm gonna go off on the stand like Sam Jackson and be like "YEAH I KILLED IT, AND I HOPE IT BURN IN HELL!!!"

lol!.........just had to get that one ought!

KING!!!

2006-11-03T03:42:00.000-08:00

i've had af free day from the hustle's of whitechapel today......alhamdulillah!..... so i decided to call back home nairobi of which i miss so much.....could not find anyone home coz it's a weekday and still midday down there only person home was the maid and one of my nephew's khalil......proceeded to ask how come he's alone at home.......he told that he was bitten by a dog on wednesday afternoon while with his friends from school i laughed out loud coz this reallly flooded back my childhood memories of how i used to be terrorised by neighbourhood dogz.

Growing up, I had a friend in the neighborhood named Abdikarim. His nickname was KayKay so everybody in the neighborhood knew him by that name. Well, KayKay had this dog named King...a big German Shepherd with a mean temper. As a matter of fact, the dog got the name King because he ruled the neighborhood with an iron fist.

Well, in King's case, I guess it was an iron paw, but back to the story...

KayKay and his dad Umar never kept that psycho dog on a leash, and rarely chained him up. The thing about King is, he would attack only when HE felt like fucking with someone, so you never knew what to expect. Abdikarim tried to sick him on me one day after I beat his ass over one of our many arguements, and King just walked over to me and nuzzled up against me, letting me pet him and shit. kaykay was like "GET HIM YOU STUPID DOG!" Two weeks later, that dog chased me and my cousins for two blocks in a ferocious rage for no reason. I barely escaped. One of my cousins ran head first into a tree branch trying to get away and damn near knocked himself out. He's lucky King was mainly trailing me, because that would've been his ass.

Otieno, our neighborhood's version of the Village Idiot, wasn't so lucky. King's bit the shit out of his ass when he was little. He still has a scar on his head to this day from where King got him.

Although King never bit me, he did get to someone close to me. My pet rabbit Toto. My sister and I ended up getting a rabbit from town called eldoret , and my older bro built this nice outdoor cage for him. So one night while everyone was asleep, King breaks open the cage and killed Toto. Didn't even leave the body. Just blood and dog hair on the side of the wooden part attached to the cage. The hair proved to us all that it was King's evil ass that killed my pet rabbit. Ultimately, vengeance would be mine, though.

Fast forward to about two years later. I'm on my bike, pedalling down the street, when all of the sudden, King comes charging at me full speed like a bat out of hell. I'm not going to lie, I was scared shitless. I just started pedalling for dear life, disregarding stop signs and everything else but Satan's Hound of the Damned that was literally right on my heels. I got about two blocks with that dog still in hot pursuit before I realised that I had no choice but to take desperate measures. I took my left leg off the pedal ind kicked the living shit outta King's, right in the face. All I heard was a loud "AAAAAARRRRRRFFFFFF!" but I refused to slow down. I did it so quick, that I didn't even break my stride on the bike. When I did look back, King was way off in the distance walking around. I slowed down a bit, but kept on pedalling just to make sure I was in the clear.

Thankfully that summer, Animal Control put King's ass to sleep. I know they say all dogs go to heaven, but I KNOW that bitch is burning in Hell somewhere. Probaby chillin in the Devil's backyard eating the grass and shitting all over the place like he used to in KayKay's yard.

damn!!......call it memories.......just had to write it!!!...........

Vending Machine: 1, Feisal: 0

2006-11-02T03:16:00.000-08:00

I was at the Victoria station this morning, and immediately got thirsty for some reason. My thirst led me to the waiting area of the station, where all of the vending machines are located. Deciding to get something carbonated to help jump-start my morning, I walked over towards the soda machine.

As I strolled over to vending machine area, I saw a window of opportunity open. My eyes brightened, and I'm pretty sure a twinkle appeared like in the movies. I saw a ginger ale that someone bought earlier, stuck against the glass and a bottle of Red Bull. The high school aged kid who apparently bought the drink was hitting the machine, but he got frustrated and walked away.

Once I watched the kid leave, I went over to the machine and decided to bump it myself, since the kid appeared to be much weaker than me. I figured it was the only right thing to do. The kid was was late for school. He did not deserve the sweet taste of ginger ale. I, on the other hand, am a hard-working, tax paying, thirsty man getting ready to slave away, picking digital cotton for the man on the very keyboard on which I'm typing this entry. That ginger ale was destined to be mine before they even poured it in the can at the factory!

I bumped the machine enough times to knock it back about 6 or inches, and to also free up the can a little. Then, I decided to buy the Red Bull drink behind it, to knock both loose and then save whichever one I don't feel like drinking for later. Little did I know, the can was lodged in there a little harder than I thought. I put my £1 in and requested the soda, only to see it get stuck behind the ginger ale as well. Somewhere up in heaven, God is showing the clip of me cursing out the soda machine to the angels on his plasma flatscreen, hitting the TiVo button and running it back a few times so that everyone can laugh at the look I had on my face once I realized that instead of two sodas, I got no soda for the price of one. I guess I had that one coming.

Cheated Death...Again!

2006-10-27T09:11:00.000-07:00

I feel like the first black president. Not so much as, I have power or influence, but because I've survived numerous assasination attempts. The latest one being last weekend in London.

I was crossing the street at an intersection, and a very unattentive driver barrelled through the crosswalk and came within 3 or 4 feet of running me over. I mean, your favorite blogger friend would have been done. I'd have been laying on the street, flat as day old beer. The guy realized what he almost did to me, and slowed down to gesture that he was sorry. I yelled a few obscenities at him, and thought about throwing my soda at his car. I decided against that, because I was still thirsty after having broken my last fast, and his car was already dirty so some Pepsi on the side would probably just add accent to the rest of the filth.

That was just the latest one. I've survived more attempts on my life than Tupac, 50 Cent and Jack Bauer. Let me run down the list of Feisal's death-defying moments, just so you can see how resourceful I am.

Survived a car wreck where some fool ran a red light and sped across three lanes of traffic, hitting my poor car right on the driver's side. Was pretty much injury free, because I'm hard as steel. *I went home and drank a quart of gasoline and spit out hot fire in celebration.

Talked my way out of a robbery attempt involving two teenagers with a shotgun. Kept all my stuff and received no bullet holes, but left wondering about what God put me here for. *Then I called up the homies and we rode on them b#tch-made trick ass fools.

Was in a car with foks from my university class when the back tire blew out on the highway. We spun across all 5 lanes of traffic before somehow making it to the shoulder lane. I could see oncoming cars heading near as we spun around in what seemed to be slow-motion. *The cars stopped, when I stood up in the sunroof and whipped out my soul pole. The shadow it cast blocked the sunlight, so everyone slowed down to a halt to witness what they thought was a solar eclipe or the coming of the apocalypse.

Got jumped by four guys over some girl who tried to make her boyfriend jealous by sleeping with me. Left with a black eye, but broke the biggest one's nose and held my own against the rest. *Even ripped a man's heart out, and performed emergency surgery on him to put it back while fighing off the others...WITH MY PINKY FINGER! Only reason I gave him his heart back was because I didn't want to catch a murder charge.

Was chased on a regular basis back in nairobi by a german shepherd dog named Simba and never once got bitten.

I told y'all. I'm harder than your favorite rapper or Morriyan!!!. All this talk has got me thinking, though. God really has led me through all this for a reason. That said, I'm making the most of this blessing called life, and soliciting on the blog again.

Note: All of the above incidents are true. The sentences after the point where astericks have been placed are made up though...I'm hard, but not that hard...Sheeeeeit.!!!!!!

Legacy

2006-10-26T08:21:00.000-07:00

It's been said that certain individuals that have had near-death experiences see their entire lives flash before their eyes.

Well, I've experienced two near-death experiences, and that didn't happen to me at all. The first time, it felt like things were happening in slow motion, and I didn't even have time to react. All I could do was think to myself "I'm really about to die here. This is it." Once I got out of that predicament safely, me and the folks that I was with made sure everyone was ok, then gave salaatul shukran to allah and said thanx!!.

The second time was this past weekend. This time, I was able to think and get out of this particular situation, but afterwards, it left lingering thoughts in my head.

The first one was, would I be willing to kill someone who wanted to harm me in order to save myself...to which I found out the answer is a resounding YES. Don't worry, I didn't kill anybody, though. If I had, I damn sure wouldn't be confessing that shit on the damn internet LOL. Circumstances told me that my philosophy would be "better him than me" as opposed to "turn the other cheek."

The second, and most lingering question is one that I want to ask you all: If you were to die tomorrow, what would your legacy be? I don't feel that I've accomplished nearly as much with my life as I thought I would have up to this point, so I think some folks could consider me a failure. I mean, I'm educated, I have family and friends who love me, I'm very creative, I'm handsome, and I have a big Abdalla(had to throw those last two in there...LOL). Yet, my goals are to create something that outlives me(like a masterpiece in art, or film,even literature or be a pioneer in something), and to make enough money to live lavish if I so choose. I probably wouldn't be extravagant, since I'm pretty easily pleased by the simple things in life, but I just want to know that I can. I am nowhere near accomplishing these two ultimate career goals. So if I had died this weekend, that means all of my potential and talent would have been wasted.

I think Allah brought me through this for a reason. Obviously, I'm not doing something right. From this point on, I am dedicating myself to accomplishing these things, at all costs. Tomorrow is NOT promised, so I need to make the most out of each day that I am given.

I know this post today is a bit of a departure from my usual jokes and stuff, but I just had that on my heart and felt the need to write about it. I am 100% fine, so there is no need to worry about me. It's just that recent events have causes this topic to be on my mind all day today.

i'm so busy today would have told ya what happened but will keep that 4 the next post the past 2 weeks have so busy at hospital but at last i'm gettin 4 day off startin from tomorrow so plenty of writing expected!

Tribute To Osman!!

2006-10-18T06:14:00.000-07:00

The City of london will be losing one of is't most respected an esteemed citizens very soon. My friend moving is moving back to columbus. So in honor of this, I feel I should say a little something about this brother.

Actually, let me tell you a story that symbolizes the greatness of that man...

*Myself, Osman and Shish were coming from the Asian Carryout with the distinctly American name...Danny's if memory serves me correct. So I buy some General Tso's chicken, Shish buys a single Benson and Hedges cigarette and lighter with a glow in the dark weed leaf emblazoned on the front. Osman, himself having bought a bean pie and a Final Call newspaper from the brother with the 3 piece suit standing on the corner in the middle of July, didn't buy anything. So when we get to the door, osman says, "Man, I can't believe y'all eat this shit. You know that stuff is bad for you

Unfortunately, one of the people behind the bulletproof glass window heard him bad mouthing their business establishment. So the chef and about 15 of his cousins and nephews come out to the front and say "Don't you bad mouth us...I cut you son of bitches"

So osman, being the street smart cat that he is, quietly says, "Brothers, this is no time for words, only action will get us out of this one. WE GOT TO BE KUNG FU NIGGAS!"

Me on some black MacGuyver shit again, saw and old man with a cane and some orthopedic shoes on trying to watch everything in the corner. I tell Shish to cause a quick diversion, which he does by doing the Harlem Shake on a tabletop. I go up to the old man and say "Run your shit, nigga! Gimme that damn cane and those orthopedic shoes!"

I then proceed to tie the shoelaces together and throw them to Osman, which he starts twirling like some nigga nun-chucks. Then I throw the cane to Shish, who is quite upset that someone tore his "Kool" cigarette T-shirt. Do you know how many proofs-of-purchase he had to mail in and how many cigarettes he had to smoke to get that shirt? Let's just say that he was pretty damn angry. I didn't have any more weapons at my disposal, so I just started slap-boxing motherfuckers with no remorse. I think I accidentally slapped Osman one time during the chaos, but he forgave me because that's the kind of brother he is.

So once the Carryout was ours, osman decided to throw a neighborhood cookout with all of the food inside. We even forgave the chef and his family and let them eat some of the cheeseburgers we took out of their freezer.

Without osman, our fearless leader, The Battle At Danny's Carryout may have been a catastrophic disaster.

So, I bid farewell to an icon of style who was even one those people who convinced me to come this side of the planet!

a man who will call you a bastard to your face if you don't agree with him

a man who battles racism at every stop in the road. And calls out black leaders on their bullshit, too.

a man strong enough to drink diet soda and not be affected by the nasty aftertaste

a man who knows cigars better than a Cuban tobacco farmer named JuanCarlos!!!

the man who coined the phrase "Magical Negroes" describing coonery in popular entertainment.

a modern-day Al Bundy, but with a better job

And a role model to the children.

OSMAN.......I salute you!!

*Note...although inspired by something that happened to me at the carryout, some aspects of that story are just a little exaggerated. Others, however, are pure bullshit and never happened. Just so you know ;)........farewell osman i know u'll read this!

Declaration of Independence at work

2006-10-15T05:15:00.000-07:00

The subject on my mind today is, how to communicate my extreme independence to the Powers That Hire New Faculty....... realized this week from talking with other friends about their labs, just how umbilical cord-free I've been, and for sooooooooo much longer than most of my peers.

I realized this is one of the key things that really sets me apart from most radiologist(except that junior doc labelling), and that it's also the most likely thing that no one knows about me. I realized that I previously had no idea what most people assume is typical for a radiologist of my age. (I still really think the ageist bullshit is hurting me).

Now that I have some idea, I gotta say. No wonder they didn't want to hire me. They really had no idea what they were missing out on. How could they?

One friend widens her eyes when I vent about what I think of as the usual stuff. It's irritating, because I frequently feel like I'm the only person who wants all the equipment in lab to work. I go out of my way to find manuals, call companies, get repairs done, etc. I'd like to think the reason I do this is because I appear to be the only person who cares that I need to use it. I never thought of this sort of venting as anything close to shocking, until she told me that the look of horror on her face was because this is the first she's heard of anything like it.Wallahi i know if i dont do my analyses with uttermost care it means someone might loose their life yet they say i'm obssesive.

Another friend said something I've heard now and then from the rare, truly empathic souls, and it goes like this:

"God, just imagine how much you could get done if you'd had access to all the resources and help I've had all this time, while I totally took it for granted. Squandered it, even."

Well, yeah. I choose to take it as a compliment, though I'm sure he didn't squander it at all, since this particular friend seems to have his shit together. (Figures that he wants to go to industry).

So, assuming that I've finally homed in on an important missing variable in the application equation, and on the off chance that I take time out to do any musculoskeletal applications this year, what's the best way to make sure people know about it?

I'm pretty confident that all my recommenders used the word 'Independent' in their letters for me in the past, which evidently didn't really get the message across. Is there another word or phrase that would carry more weight? Dashboard Thesaurus suggests "self-reliant" and "self-sufficient", which both sound pretty good to me.

Would a better turn of phrase help?

As I think I've mentioned here before, someone told me that my letters were probably missing the "catch phrases" that apparently only PIs "in the know" would... know about. This person said they basically have to make it sound like you can walk on water. I'm pretty sure my recommenders would have said that, and in so many words, if they had known that was what it would take. But they're none of them very experienced at placing computed Tomography (CT) or arthrography , at least not in the US. So having a list of Required Wording to give each of them might help.

I'm sure having more funding would help, but it's a catch-22, because radiologist aren't allowed to apply for money without letters from their "advisors"... I can't tell you how much this catch infuriates me, because it means I have to hunt down my advisor, and several levels of admins, consultants, and business officers, to get signatures, etc. Which is really stupid when it's just at the stage of submitting something, but they don't let you send it in without getting permission first.....how about it was life and death matter?....i still don't think so the NHS system is so strict with its bureuacratic bullshit that by the time a patient get's know what's happenning the tumour or whatever it is has already developed more.......this makes me helpless!!

It's so bad, that recently I had to apply for some safety clearance for my own patients, as you're required to do periodically. Because the diagnosis is technically said to be from my advisor, my name is not listed anywhere on it! But I did all the paperwork,all the scan's, made all the phone calls, with NO ADVICE WHATSOEVER FROM MY ADVISOR... as usual.

So tell me again, if I have such little chance of getting to prioritise impotant(most vulnerable) patient's in the first place, why make me jump through hours of shitty hospital hoops just to be allowed to see patient's as soon as possible....DAMN WHITECHAPEL n NHS!!!

Argh. Just thinking about these ridiculous restrictions don't know what i can do or just do as they say in swahili "fuata upepo"(follow the winds direction)!!!

Homeless Man nearly Stole My Date!!!

2006-10-10T12:56:00.000-07:00

Recently, thanks to Myspace, I caught up to a very cool and very attractive lady that I went out with a few years ago back in columbus. She found me on there thanks to my sister's crazy conections. I'm glad to know that she's doing well, and still Lord Have Mercy fine as all get out of town....But it showed me of what may have been one of the most humbling experiences of my adult life: Having a homeless man almost steal my date from me.

Miss Hanisa and I were in edgeware road, leaving one of the lebanese restaurants after breaking fast.After having done maghrib prayers, We talked, we laughed, and everything seemed to be going great. Then we went outside, and it happened.

We leave the restaurant, and this homeless guy is outside the place. He sees Miss hanisa and I walking past, and he starts singing that Rod Stewart song, "Some guys have all the luck" while doing a little shuffle. It was funny, so we both started laughing as he approached.

The Homeless Ladies' Man then said, "I don't mean any disrepect, but I have to tell the young lady that she is very beautiful. She is a walking flower. Lovely. Delicate. Graceful. Her grace is the personification of the marvelous heavens above" or something to that effect. I can't remember exactly what he said, but he actually made it sound smooth as Hell. Much better than the crap I just typed above.

Then the man recited lyrics of romantic poetry, and Miss Hanisa was eating it up. She was just smiling and telling him how beautiful his words were. I tried to play it cool, but inside I was like "NOOOOOOOOOO!!! WHAT THE HELL?!?! I CAN'T COMPETE WITH THIS HOMELESS GUY!!! HE'S TOO SMOOTH!!! HE'S GONNA TAKE MY DATE!!! I CAN'T TELL ANYONE A HOMELESS MAN STOLE MY DATE!!! ESPECIALLY A WOMAN THIS FINE!"

I had to keep it inside, though. I figured the worst thing I could do at this point was to show that I'm actually considering the possibility that my date might slide a homeless dude her number...Or have him write down what alley he was going to be in later that evening to set up some sort of moonlight rendezvous. It was a no-win situation, so I just tried to think of something romantic or smooth to say. It was no use, though. That guy had already stolen my thunder.

So once the homeless man stopped making love to my date's mind, he got down to business and asked for money. He didn't ask like most folks, though. He challenged us to name any country in the world and he'd name the capitol city. Miss hanisa chose Japan and Canada, and The Homeless Ladies' Man named the cities. I figured I'd throw him a curveball and choose a country from The Motherland to try and catch him off-guard.

He asked me to name one more country, and I named "NAMIBIA."

Homeless Ladies Man replied, "Windhoek."

That was when I gave up. I gave dude like 8 or 9 pounds, which is more than I've ever given a homeless man. Partially because he was so entertaining. Mainly so he'd go away and leave my date alone. Either way, he left a more lasting impression on her than I did that night. I hope they never actually went out...

i can't believe it that was an eye opener!......or was it some sought of ramification coz i should have been doin taraweeh instead of bein on a date......either way saturday was a crazy day!!

Me vs. The Evil 4 Year Old

2006-10-09T05:40:00.000-07:00

I love kids, but I can't stand disrespectful ones. Let me tell you about what happened on sunday, and you'll see exactly what I mean.

I was on oxford street Sunday evening, waiting in line to get a soda from a vendor. There were three little girls in front of me. Two were about middle-school aged, and one was about 4 years old. The oldest one was ordering some food, and intentionally taking a long time in an effort to distract the woman behind the cart. The other middle schooler was poorly attempting to steal a ginger ale and some chips. The little one was leaning on the cooler where the sodas were.

I went over to the cooler and said "excuse me" to the 4 year old in an effort to get her to stop leaning on it so I could get a soda. She initially ignored me, until I began opening it.

Then she got smart with me and said "You didn't even say ex-cuuuuse me!"

I replied "Yes I did!" to which her older sister agreed. Then, it hit me. Why the Hell was I even answering to this 4 year old? I should have threatened to take my belt off and whup all three of those bad ass little girls.

Before I could let my anger manifest itself, the girl stealing the soda and chips got caught by the lady working at the snack cart. So as she returns the stuff and denies that she stole it despite the fact that she was empty-handed when she go there, the little one decides to test me again. By this time, their foolishness had gotten annoying and I had my leg up against the cooler. The 4 year old walks over and yells "EXCUUUUSE ME!" and tries to get in the cooler.

I took a step back, but when she started opening the cooler, I put my leg against it again to make her have to struggle to lift it up. I figured this was the only legal and nonviolent way to let her know that I'm physically and mentally superior to her. Trust me, I really wanted to just be like "Go to Hell. You little bastard! I'll knock you out, then dare you to go tell your daddy. I'll knock his punk ass out too...if you even know who your real daddy is. Oh yeah...SANTA CLAUS AIN'T REAL, BITCH!"

I kept it to myself though, since she was a little kid. I kind of felt bad for those girls, since it's obvious that someone has failed them as a parent. Still, I know that one day that little girl is going to catch a serious ass whupping thanks to her mouth. I figure, the younger she learns that lesson, the easier it'll be on her in the long run. So I salute whoever is the first kindergardener to beat the brakes off that child at recess. I'll personally stop by the school and buy him or her an extra chocolate milk at lunch.

so basically all i'm saying is some should teach this young kidz!......otherwise u never know.......i hope i didn't rant much controllin myself coz of ramadhan.

Hollering in The Gym

2006-10-03T13:35:00.000-07:00

I checked out the Gym over where I live yesterday, and I must say, it is a pretty nice gym. It has most of the stuff that I like aboutmy gym, plus a football sala and it's closer. The only thing that's keeping me from switching is the fact that I've been with the other one so long that I only pay 25 pounds a month now. It doesn't make sense for me to pay 45 pounds a month again, football sala or no football sala!

The funny thing is, the women in there are something else. A lot of these women were made-up, walking on the treadmill posing for the dudes in there lifting. It was funny, because some of them reeked of desperation. I don't see why they'd choose the gym as their place to meet new dudes...Then again, I guess since folks are half naked in there, it makes some sense.

I never was big on macking women in the gym. I guess this is because when I'm in there I end up getting sweatty, and having veins bulging out of all kinds of places and shit like that. I don't think I look too flattering on workout days LOL

I did try once, though. There was this lady named Shanice who used to work out at the same time I did on most of the same days. I would catch her looking in my direction sometimes, so I figured she must kinda like me or something...Normally, me being sweatty and tired from my workout would have stopped me, but this woman was FINE. She looks kinda like Tiara from http://www.tiaraxclusive.com, and I have a big-time crush on that Tiara chick.

So I went up to her and opened up conversation, cracked a few jokes, etc., etc...so when it came time to get the number, she told me "Well, I kinda live with my boyfriend."

I was thinking to myself "WHYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!! DAMMIT!"

I just kinda eased my way out of the conversation and told her it was nice meeting her...Then proceeded to swear off ever hollering at anyone in the gym again. That was the first time I'd been shot down in months. I didn't know how to take it. Part of me wanted to go holler at someone else just to see if it was a fluke, and part of me came up with an elaborate get-back scheme...Which was to not wear any draws, spot her on the weight bench one day when she's lifting, and then teabag the shit outta her...LOL. I decided that she didn't do anything to me that warranted me putting my sweatty ballsack in her face, but I did hold fast to my vow to never holler at anyone in the gym again, regardless of how fine they are.* If I ever get a gym number again, that means the woman came up to me and volunteered to give it to me.

*Note - If Tiara happens to read this, she's the exception to this rule...with her fine ass...LOL.

Being A Kenyan

2006-09-29T09:57:00.000-07:00

Drum Rolls!!

I have lost touch with being a Kenyan, well i'll slap my back to reality with a few tips. This post was inspired by a man on the train today; he reminded me of how a typical Kenyan thinks.......just had to remind myself just how it felt being a kenyan but not saying i'm not somalii coz i'm proud of my people n the american part to hell with them even if u gave me that blue p.p doesn't mean i'm yours period.......i just wanna show u guys the mindset of a kenyan man aight!!

Whining

Your capability to whine should be above reproach. All your problems stems from the fact that the government has not done something. You whine at the bank queues, you whine because the local askari clamped your car, you whine about the potholes in your estate, you whine about the traffic jams, you whine about corruption, you whine about greedy Mps, In short you whine, whine, whine until the cows come home.

And to make matters worse, you do nothing about it.

If I whine, I am just being Kenyan

Dreaming

You dream when one of your own is going to be in power. You dream when you will ever get to a position where you can steal as much cash as possible and problems will go away. You dream of when a friend of yours will get to procurement and hence all tenders will go to you. You dream your children getting very rich and sorting all your problems; health, education of their younger siblings e.t.c. If a woman, you dream when the rich man will come to solve the poverty puzzle. You dream that as you are walking a limousine will stop by the roadside and ask you if you would like to go in. You strategically dine in Safari Park to make sure the right person comes and fulfills your getting rich dream.

You dream that the next president will be better than the current one. You dream that he will give you white collar jobs. That he will dish out money, forgetting those who made money last regime, have made more money this regime. It’s all about knowing where the money is.

You dream till you die. Never doing anything about it. Wake up Kenyans

If I dream too much, I am just being the Kenyan

Drinking

A weekend is not one without favorite nyama choma and beer. Wonder at Breweries 1 billion dollar capitalization. We drink, we make merry. If your birthday we just buy a few beers and celebrate. In fact if you are businessman, you can count your networking escapades in the dark areas of karumaindo bar down river road, at wee hours of the morning. That’s where they clinch the deals.

Again If I drink, I am just being Kenyan.

We are a drinking nation and proud.

More Peculiar habits

Chewing the toothpick long after the nyama is over 2 hours before.

Flashing anonymously

Fighting to get into the matatu and out of it (what’s the hurry brothers and sisters)

Picking the nose

Spitting saliva on the streets (yuck!)

Urinating in places written “Usikojoe hapa”

Always either asking the persons other name or where they come from, then proceeding to make jokes about the tribal stereotypes. Like “Nyinyi Wakikuyu mnapenda pesa”(u kikuyus love money).

Having all these “please call me thank you” from strange numbers.

Borrowing other people’s newspapers to read in the matatu (I used to be a serious culprit).

Go buy your own!

Looking for affiliations with high powered persons (Kibaki is my relative or moi is my relative, just imagine)

Insisting on boarding an already full vehicle
Not belting up
Making heroes out of what would be societal rejects anywhere in the world

Throwing stones at real heroes

Asking for services to be rendered and refusing to pay for them (having done this before, I know this one pretty well). Money first, services later! Wonder no more why prepaid services are in vogue. Even KPLC wants to start on prepaid. And for post paid, the deposit is hefty, you are well known defaulters.!

Insisting to be allowed to do something which is not allowed or is illegal.Much more........to cap it up i just miss them its country with a bunch crazy citizens!!!

Shut ur Ignorant Ass Up.

2006-09-27T04:24:00.000-07:00

I really felt the need to say this to someone today.

Why, when in the presence of people from other cultures, do some folks feel the need to try to use what little bit of language or cultural slang they know in everyday conversation? If you're not fluent, then you sound like a dumbass. It's that simple.

Case in point. I'm in a fast food resturant, and this lady in front of me in line is talking to a hispanic girl at the counter. So the lady decides to try to "communicate" with the girl behind the counter yelling out "MOOOCHAS GRAAAA-SHAAASS! ME WANT EL MAS FRIES GRANDE! SI!"

So I'm looking over at her like "What the fuck are you talking about?!?!", the woman behind me in line is laughing out loud, and the girl behind the counter is smiling biting her lower lip...trying not to either laugh in this lady's face, or slap the shit outta her ass.

The worst part about it is, the woman was black. She should have known better, since white folks do that to us all the time. I used to get irritated when a Carson Daily ass white person would come up to me talking about "What's up dawg?" or "What's happening brother!" in what amounts to either a weak attempt at sarcasm, or an even weaker attempt to prove that he/she is cool with black people. You'd think being black british would have stopped this woman from making an ass of herself like that...but it just goes to prove that ignorance and stereotypes know no color.

So if you get nothing else from this...Please don't go up to someone of another culture and try to talk like them, unless you are 100% sure that you are fluent in whatever language or dialect they speak. If not, stick to standard English to avoid looking like an asshole. Fuck the "Malibu's Most Wanted" fake ass rapper talk, fuck the "Miss Cleo" fake ass Carribean accents, and fuck all the fake ass "Spanglish" speaking motherfuckers who don't know what the hell they're talking about but think they are fluent cause they watched "Telemundo" last night. I can do without hearing that shit. Thanks.

The Best Things in Life

2006-09-24T06:53:00.000-07:00

In semi-slow motion I move down the urban walkway in london........Today I realize I’m one day farther from my birth and a day closer to death......wallahi this is not bad news this is the way I stay motivated.......I still have much to do, as I entertain the thoughts of my ever approaching demise..........the soles of my K-swiss punish the ground beneath me. I stop at the pay phone to call home and I notice an old man noticing me.......Looking at the man and his clothes I couldn’t tell which one was older what I could tell was both the man and his clothes carried an odor that was a quarter sweat and a quarter alcohol the rest was old heavy cologne that was so strong, it distracted me from finishing dialing on the phone...............I found myself in a zone staring in...then...........When his eye caught my eye my heart jumped because it was embarrassing don’t know if it was embarrassing because my shoes looked better than his or because I hadn’t lost my loved ones or because he thought that I thought that I was better than he was or simply because on the other hand I was looking deep in the eyes of a strange man............that was probably it because it was easy for me to understand oddly on this mans filthy body............ the only thing clean was his wedding ring wrapped around his third dirty finger.......For a dirty old man he was rather composed he turned towards me and casually walked into my personal space so close I could feel his breath on my face all the things in me telling me to back away were not as strong as my desire to hear what he had to say.

then he spoke and said...

I heard a woman sing a song today.

You’ll never guess what she said.

That woman told me that the best things in life are free.

She must use the word “free” only as monetarily
not free like it didn’t cost anything
and anyways who is she to sing
about the best things in life?

ya know?

what are the best things in life...
is it love
is it happiness
is it a good husband a good wife
is it fame and fortune
is it seeing your name in lights
is it honor
is it freedom
is it knowledge and wisdom
is it charity
is it mercy, peace
is it loyalty
is it appreciation
is it salvation
is it satisfaction
is it self realization

Now, I want you to tell me
which one of these things you gonna get for free

It may not cost you a dime
but it may cost you a lifetime

With these old eyes
I’ve seen a grown man hold his head and cry
pursuing the best things in life

a leader looks in the eyes of his followers and lies
pursuing the best things in life

an 18 year old boy is shot and dies
pursuing the best things in life

a motherless child sucks poison out of a pipe
pursuing the best things in life

a young girl sells her body to the camera and lights
pursuing the best things in life

And she has the nerve to tell me
the best thing in life are free?
Hey youngblood, what are you willing to pay for the best things in life?

Are you willing to kill or die
for the best thing in life?

Or are you gonna live a lie
for the best things in life?

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t answer.
My thoughts returned to my ever approaching demise
and I realized feisal you really have more thought to do......life isn't just about career and money

I rest my case..............old man at euston station you really opened my eyes!!!!!

ramadhan karim to all you!

ramblings

2006-09-21T03:47:00.000-07:00

I go through this phase were I have deep thoughts but seem unable to articulate them. writer's block for want of a better phrase. on the blog here or in convo with friends. It's like the very idea of processing my mind spray into some coherent stream ... shudder ... How do you intimate to another the feelings of helplessness? of the inability to move forward with some half concieved or well thought plan, dosen't matter. This society robs you of this ability. It's all about deadlines and time windows. You find yourself trying to be logical about matters of the body and soul. Simple "I just wanna air out" chats become events to be booked into some calendar, juggled with overtime and treated like some other bit of paperwork. soul time becomes premium. You find yourself forever meeting up with friends at bars and clubs, only going to their houses during christenings and stuff, the dinner parties a distant memory, losing the ability to have deep chats about any and every. You realize you've become a drone. fully paid up member of the rat race. eat, work, sleep, fuck, eat, shit, work.

I'm all jumbled up cos I get into deep convos with people at the hospital realizing a reversal in roles. kinda like "dude have you spoken to your wife/girlfriend/lover/partner about this shit you unloading on me?". I realize that i'm inherently different to the majority at work, perhaps a more engaging cultural background, making it easier for others to tell me their life stories. Worrying that perhaps colleagues are carrying to much baggage probably affecting their lives. Wondering perhaps I'm busy using up my free time, offering some kind of pseudo therapy I'm probably in need of myself but having no time, within work and without, to seek. Annoyed I can't help my basic nature, asking a sour face "you aight mate? wassup? lets grab a coffee". Perhaps to emphatic by nature to do the 24/7 poker face.

The week's gone from one extreme to another. beautiful wedding over the weekend to hassles from fuckin consultants at work and hardcore taxmen threats (V.A.T bill of a few grands anyone?) to real joy at some very rare good news (like really, really good news). My problem is i'm the eternal optimistic. I'd see a sparkle in a pile of shit. Sometimes taking the middle ground on an issue instead of the offensive/defensive stance. I just dont see a problem with such extremes.

I'm rambling. I just have this sense of dissatisfaction. Wondering what Allah had planned. What's the plan? A better job earning more money? But to what end? What for? Do you ever stare at yourself in the mirror and ask why? what's the purpose of life? what's the meaning of it all?

Ok i'll try make some sense. nah that's for some other entry.

over and out.

Why Me, Dammit?

2006-09-20T03:25:00.000-07:00

For those who haven't heard these before, I'm going to tell my two stories of getting approached by gay dudes out here in LONDON. Not that I have anything wrong with gay people...Just leave me out of your "lifestyle activities" and we're cool. These took the cake, though.

Story #1: The Gym near piccadilly.

I've started working in whitechapel london and decided to join the nearest gym to my area. The Ballys that I joined is located right near piccadilly, which is a part of town with a large, affluent gay community(dont but this is what i'm told be fellow workers at hosp). So basically, 65% of that gym is hot women and gay dudes. The rest are regular straight gymgoers such as myself.

So one day, I'm setting up a curl bar, getting ready to do some standing bicep curls. I've put about 30 pounds on each side, so it wasn't really heavy at all. As soon as I lift up the bar, this one guy with a thin beard down the middle of his chin runs up to me in limp-wristed fashion and says "You OK? You need a spot?"

Now this would have been cool had I actually needed help, but it was my first rep on my first set. Plus, dude was standing so close to me I could feel his breath on my upper lip. I don't like ANYONE in my personal space like that...so I yelled out "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?! GET AWAY FROM ME BITCH!"

So dude backed up really quickly, and said "I just thought you might want a spot"

To which I replied "I'll ask you if I want a spot. No get the fuck outta here."

Then some other dude was like "That gay dude was all up on you! I don't blame you for calling that bamma out. I'd have dropped the weighs on that nigga's foot"

Believe it or not, the stories get worse from this point forward...

Story #2: The Serenade

This story is the worst one. I was coming from the laundromat one Sunday morning after having worked all Saturday night and just staying up to get my clothes clean. While I'm waiting at the bus stop, this old guy who looked like ReRun from What' Happening came over where I was and sat down to wait for the bus, too. The guy was trying hard to make conversation, but I was tired so I kept giving him responses like "Uh huh", "Yeah", Nah, and "Alright."

When I did finally turn and look at ReRun, he looked me dead in my eye snd stared at me longingly. I was thinking to myself "I KNOW this motherfucker didn't just give me a look?!" but since I wasn't sure, I just let it go.

Next he says "Say man...have you ever heard that song by Mint Condition called 'Pretty Brown Eyes'?"(WHO THE FUCK R THEY FIRST?)

Then the fool proceeds to break out into song, right there at the bus stop. I mean, singing his heart out with passion and conviction. Singing like Tyrese was singing to that bottle of Coca Cola in the old commercial that used to come on. It was the straw that broke the camel's back.

I stood up and said "Motherfucker, are you SINGING to me?!?!"

Dude tried to save face and was like "No...I. uh, wasn't singing to you. I just wanted to know if you knew the song"

For real, he doesn't know how close he was to catching a beat down...If anybody else were out there to witness that, I would have had to hit the guy, just to save face and make sure folks knew that I had nothing to do with that flagrant display of punk assedness.

I hope these amused you all. Hopefully, I won't ever have to update this with another story of being approached in that manner...LOL.........but british asses r to in ur face .............DAMNNNN!!!

2006-09-19T05:24:00.000-07:00

been long I posted anything........... Well more like I've been bogged down trying to sort stuff out. Can't say I didn't contemplate calling it a day (like all the time). But where would I vent when I need to?

i needed to say something on the 13th of sept about my all time great legend tupac amaru shakur but was busy with lots scannin shit at the hospital....in way i will feel guilty if dont post anything about him.

Tupac shakur was tragically gunned down on sept 7th back in '96.Just at the time i was arrivin to the so called land of the free (america). Ten years to the day and my memories of dude hasn't changed or faded over the years. I remember the repeated news bulletins reporting the unfortunate event. I felt sad that day because I had started to believe his couldn't be got. This is a guy that thrived against all odds, being born in prison, mother a drug addict, from a family of persecuted Panthers, a bonafied thug. A political gangsta, almost without cliche. In hindsight his actions and beliefs destined him for an early grave. The good die young. I shudder to think what he would have been today had he lived beyond his 25 years on earth. Dude was large. Pac courted controversy and wasn't afraid of anyone. You could say he was misguided as a result of his association with Death Row but Tupac was his own man and was beyond mere influence. I kept an ear to the ground and listened to his stuff. As I type I'm listening to a selection of his music and his lyrics ran deep.

This was a young man obsessed with his own death, his own mortality. Most of his songs explored this theme. He had a deep conviction that his own death will be swift and violent. A lot of the songs explored forgiveness from God for actions that cannot be avoided. Tupac was an enigma and even now has forums heated discussing who he was. And the conspiracy theories would not rest. Who really killed Tupac? Why was he killed? Is he really dead? It's a testament to his music that ten years down the line hundreds of his mp3s litters the Internet (literally). It's like people can't enough of him. Yes the shoddy compilations (music/dvds) still flood the market with poor quality control, but this hints at a continued thirst for Don Makaveli.

Tupac people may or may not agree on what you were but your legend is secure.

R.I.P BRUV!!!!

Catching Up To Old Friends

2006-09-12T05:21:00.000-07:00

What can I say? This weekend has been great. For starters, I finally replaced my stolen cell phone with a better one. I still haven't gotten around to using all the little features this bad boy has. I feel like a little kid with a new toy right about now. I've been taking pictures of all kinds of dumb stuff with it just because I can...LOL. the only drawback is I lost so many phone numbers when the old phone was taken, that now I can't reach most of the people that I know unless I run into them somewhere or get their numbers again from someone else.

Saturday at the club was super busy, but it was cool becasue I ran into my boy kamau, whom I used to go high school with. He told me about the barbecue organised by jemo( some guy i cant remember but tells me lotz about my big bro) from Kenya had lined up for Sunday and invited me to go. That cookout was great, because I really missed hanging out with kamau and nassir.

Let me tell you all about Nassir. Nassir is like a 5'6" lightskinned whup-ass machine. That brother looks mild-mannered, but if you test him and make him hit you full blast....you WILL get lifted off your feet and end up on your ass somewhere. He's cool as shit, though. You'd REALLY have to push nassir to the limit to get him to lay hands on someone. But if he does lay hands on someone...God bless that poor motherfucker, cause dude is fully capable of breaking every bone in your body twice LOL.

The biggest development is that I am starting my training/gym back up again. I've been keeping myself fit, but this is going to take things to another level. I'm ready for the challenge, though. Other good developments from Sunday are I got to see one of my old crushes from back home in Nairobi again over there. She looked good in school, but now she looks fan-tastic. Had a brother about to holler like Pharrell, talking 'bout "GOT-DAAAAAAMMN...WHOOO-O-O-OOO!!!!....WHOOO-O-O-OOO!!!!". I maintained my dignity this time, though. I also got to seemy best friend ibra. If you all can't tell, I'm excited about it. i last saw him b4 when i went america back in 96........i'm startin to like uk coz i'm gettin to meet all these dudes makes me think i had kinda lost touch with my kenyan roots not forgettin that i'm still somali(sijui) or as somaliz call us sujuu!!/sijui..........but i should'nt worry coz i still believe i'm kenyan at heart or is it somali but thats a question for another day.

Hell, you gotta love that attitude. It's actually looking sunny outside now, too. Hopefully things will work out, cause today i'm reallly cool. I guess I'll talk to you all later. Time to go do that white chapel thingy!!......n i promise today to help any ayeyo or islaan that i meet at the hospital u will be my first priority!!!.....no let's say any african that needs help will be helped to the uttermost of my ability even if i hve to let the white folkz wait at their appointments time........isn't that racist??.....i'm just following what they do i've seen them do that to my folkz.....or is it just britshness???

Black/White

2006-09-12T04:05:00.000-07:00

You know.....I was doin' some dangerous shyt the other day. I was wondering why is all the good shyt labeled white, but all the negative shyt is labeled black. Take a second to think about that shyt. If I tell you a little harmless lie that's meant to protect you, it's called a lil' WHITE lie. But if I'm bribe you, and get you to do some underhanded shyt....guess what, that's BLACKmail!!

Still not convinced? When Tesco's or another department store has a large sale...its called their WHITE sale. Right. But the day after Newyear when everybody and their aunt hits the mf mall, mfs get trampled at the door, and hit in the mouth over the last Playstation....what's that? MF BLACK Friday!!

It's all kinds of negative shyt associated with the word black. When your power goes out, it's a mf BLACKout. If a plane crashes, they check the BLACK box. If you don't fit into a certain category, you're the BLACK sheep. If someone is spreading lies about you, you've been BLACKballed. If you buy some illegal shyt from up in the cut....that's the BLACK market. And how come the BLACK cat has to be the evil one? WTF!!

But on the other hand...the president lives in the WHITE House. When you die, they tell you to walk towards the WHITE light. And in December, I'm supposed to dream of a mf WHITE Christmas?? Fukk dat!!

So what i want u british folkz the so called owners the english language to Do us ALL a mf favor and disassociate Black with negativity. After all, the KKK wears white. Hmmm

I was playing chess last week with a friend of mine. He went first. He immediately grabbed his white pawn and moved it forward. I said...."Hold up, mf....what you doing?" He said, "The white pieces move first." I said....."Naw, bruh.....not in MY mf house!!"

Respect My MF Space!!!

2006-09-05T10:49:00.000-07:00

It's saturday night. It's the start of premier league Madness. Me and my boy rashid decide to hit up a bar to watch the game since all the mf tickets are sold. We finally choose Hooters near edgeware road as the spot since they can get us a seat next to a tv in 15 minutes.

It's madd crowded, but its all good. Everybody's there to watch the game. The drunk azz people at the table behind us leave. Then 6 people get seated there...5 girls and 1 guy. It's all cool 'til this 1 of them (with her back to me) decides that my space is now HER space. She gets up to go to the restroom, and as she stands up, she reaches over to lean on my mf table. WTF! Then....when she returns....she puts her hands on my table again to sit down. You're thinking.....oh that's not that bad. But wait, it gets worse.

The game is on now and england start whoopin poor andorran asses crouch scores!!!, and this chick decides that she needs to be more comfortable. So guess what? She leans back in her chair....and rests her elbows and arms upon my table next to my mf fries. So then I place my burger down.....(pause to gather composure........think before i speak, ...okay, i'm good)..."um, BITCH you need to move!!" Sean just shakes his head. "Naw.....fukk dat."

Seeing that I'm irritated, our waitress comes over and asks what's wrong. "Your girl 'bout to get hit wit a mug", I say. Understanding my problem, she decides to help a brutha out. She returns with a 'lil peanut butter to ease the pain. She then spreads it all over that end of the table as a welcome treat for when our "guest" decides that she needs more space. Dats what the fukk i'm talkin' bout!! I slap five and do the "chest bump" wit our waitress.

Quick summary......just cuz this ho was in her mf element, she thought she owned all the space around her. Reality check. All this over here (encircles self with hand motion).....thats all ME, bytch. Madd shout out to Tracy (I think thats her name)....the waitress at Hooters on saturday night. Anyway i'm startin to like it over except that i just have to find things to rant about!!

laterz,

You Are What You Attract

2006-09-01T03:56:00.000-07:00

Today, I ask a question to you that has been looming in my mind since my high school days. That question is, do you feel that the mantra "You are what you attract" is true?

When I say you are what you attract, I am basically saying that if you seem to constantly meet individuals with horrible flaws and deep-seated issues, then maybe you need to look at yourself to figure out why. I personally do not know if this is always a true statement, but I do feel that everybody should take inventory of their best qualities as well as their flaws if they feel that they are meeting the same type of Mr. or Mrs. Wrong. If you know me or you've read this blog, then you know there is a story coming up.

Back in high school, my friend ahmed gave me the nickname "Trick Magnet", since I seemed to have an uncanny knack for meeting women with all kinds of baggage or no common sense whatsoever. Back then, I would just laugh it off or make fun of him because his girlfriend was a linebacker. No bullshit. He really dated the only girl in our school to play on the football team. She didn't look like shaquille oneal or anything disgusting like that, but still. Just the fact that I could call her a linebacker always gave me an ace card to pull whenever ahmed started cracking jokes.

Fast forward to sophomore year in college. I had an unprecedented string of bad luck dating. Almost every woman I went out with was either selfish, dishonest, or just plain slutty. So one day, I had a conversation with the dorm director since she was one of the coolest people I met at Hampton. I told her about the last 5 women I had been out with, and she said "You know what they say...you are what you attract."

I then followed up with "So you're saying I'm a selfish dishonest slut?" To which she replied "You're not selfish or dishonest. Heh heh heh."

I wanted to be like "HA HA HA! VERY FUNNY MOTHERFUCKER!" but since she was trying to help me, I took a step back and reflected for awhile. I came to realize that even though I am not responsible for the numerous character flaws in those women, had I looked at something other than their external beauty I might have seen a lot of that shit coming. So yeah...I ultimately had no one to blame but the man in the mirror...

so yeah, I looked at myself honestly and saw that I was a sucker for beauty and women with low inhibitions and high sex drives. Since that day, I've strived to seek women who have more to offer than just physical beauty. Don't get me wrong, I sometimes get caught backsliding...but overall I've done a good job.

Basically, what I want you all to take away from this post is that honest self assesments can be good for most everyone. If you keep on attracting assholes, maybe there's a reason why. Don't beat yourself up, but just think about it.

have a nce friday folkz........kwaheri kwa sasa!!!

Ass: The Great Unifying Force

2006-08-29T11:00:00.000-07:00

This morning, I went to get some breakfast before work. It was me, this one white dude with a construction jumpsuit on, and the resturant staff. Nobody was really making any small talk, other than the usual mumbled look at the start of the week.

Well, in walks this woman who looked to be about 35 years old, brazilian, with a really nice ass. She was wearing jeans that showed it off, as well as her nice legs. As fate would have it, both my order, and the jumpsuit guy's order came up at the same time. Still, no words were exchanged...Until we got out the front door.

You would have thought we knew each other for years, the way we instantly bonded. He said "Damn, that woman had ASS!"

So I said "HELL YEAH! THAT'S how you start off a week.

To which he responded "Ain't nothing like a woman with ass. She was nice!" After that, we dapped each other up and went out separate ways. Ass. The Great Unifying Force.

Sorry for my lack of updates over the weekend, I've been pretty busy with meeting family this week. I promise to do better in the week ahead.........aight!!

laterz,

Honestly...Who Does This?

2006-08-29T10:40:00.000-07:00

Last weekend,I had to go to woodgreen north london to take care of some business. That Saturday night, I caught up to my cousin latif and his friend Gerald. We went back to latif's house to have a few drinks, then went to visit these women that they went to high school with.

The night started off great. Everyone was nice, friendly, cordial, and fucked up. The Eddie Murphy "Raw" DVD was playing, and the entire place was having fun. Too bad things went downhill from there.

About 45 minutes into the DVD, the ladies started making fun of my cousin latif, calling him greedy since he ate twice within a half-hour's time. Now, to everyone in the room except Gerald, it was all just fun and jokes. Nothing serious.

To Gerald, however, it must've struck a nerve. For some reason, he stood behind the the young lady that owned the place. Then, out of nowhere, he poured out the water from the bottle that SHE gave him all over the back of her neck. The worst part about it is, after he did it, he just stood there with a look on his face that said "What nigga! Yeah, I did it! You want a piece of me?!?!"

So she did what most normal people would do. She kicked our trifling asses out of her house. I don't really blame her...Especially since I couldn't help but laugh at his audacity. I tried to hold it in, but it didn't work.

The funniest thing is, Gerald is the most friendly-looking, mild-mannered, nice guy 98% of the time. You wouldn't think he's have a short fuse like that...It's funny, cause folks like that are the last ones you want as your enemies. So Gerald, if you're reading this, don't take this shit too personally...LOL

But seriously, though...who does that shit? Who pours water on someone in their own house, then just stands there like it's nothing? Is that's what's going on in the streets right now? Pouring spring water on motherfuckers? At least when a woman splashes a drink on someone in disgust, they have the sense to walk away just in case he snaps and attempts to slap the monkey-shine shit outta her. Gerald just stood there as if he was daring her to make a move. I just hope that folks don't think I put him up to that dumb shit since I laughed at it. At any rate, Gerald has gained a new nickname: "The Waterboy"

2006-08-24T14:22:00.000-07:00

Ok, I know by now most of y'all have seen the preview for that new movie with Samuel Jackson in it. You know, the one where he's trapped on a airplane with random skakes. What's the title of it: "Snakes on a mf Plane."That's it. Straight to the point.They could have named it "Venom in the Skies," or "Terror at 30,000 feet." Naw...fukk all that. They said they ran outta titles. They gave the fukk up. So guess what,..."Snakes on a Plane. "Is that the new thing in Hollywood? We just gon' name shyt EXACTLY what it's about? Cuz if so, we need to go back and change the titles of some shyt.
Let's start with "Panic Room." Fukk dat title. We gon' call it, "White Hoes Trapped in a mf House.
"Then we can go change "Amistad." Yep, you guessed it..."Nyggas on a Boat.
"Even a classic like the "Wizard of Oz" can be renamed. How 'bout, "Trippin'' while you Knocked da Fukk Out." Think about it. That's all that shyt was.
How 'bout Forrest Gump...we can call it, "Retard Lives an Amazing Life."Oh, I got another one. "Silence of the Lambs." Lets name it, "Regular Food Just Ain't Good Enough for Me."What about "The Color Purple?" Here we go...."Sistas Catchin Beatdowns."

damn wallahi i think thats enough for today lemme have sleep.....so that i can with ur british manana.....buenos noche's

2006-08-24T10:40:00.000-07:00

Today, I'm fed the fukk up. Big surprise, huh?Today's wrath is directed at you corporate minded british mfs who think that natural hair/rasta is "unkept" or "just wrong." You suited and booted mfs think that our shyt has to be freshly twisted and done for it to be accepted.Today i saw some doctor's looking at some jamaican rastaman in disgust just because he's got a rasta HELLO!! It’s a NATURAL hairstyle. They only twist it to control the new growth. Yet your punk azz only gets your shyt "touched up" maybe once a month. All this unnecessary attention focused on HAIR. WTF. It's JUST hair!! If you wanna put attention into something....then focus it on all the nasty shyt that my Caucasian corporate counter-parts do. Like comin' to mf work with they hair still wet. Nasty bytches. Focus on how they wanna put their arm around you or get all close when THEIR clothes are covered in mf cat/dog hair. Back your azz up!! Or what about them who drink 5 mf cups of coffee before 10am and don't even THINK about a stick of gum. Come on now....Orbit is da SHYT!. And let's not forget about my fellow nasty azz co-workers that you see in the bathroom EVERYday who don't wash their hands, but STAY bringing some baked goods from home for office consumption. Don't nobody want that shyt. But a RASTAMAN'S hair is supposedly nasty and unclean. Don't come at me with that bullshyt.

Girl you do the maths!

2006-08-23T12:51:00.000-07:00

Real quick-like, I just wanted to share my irritation on some BULLSHYT british behaviour.Say you see a co-worker and her child at the hospital. Why is it that when you ask her, "How old is your son now, " she says some shyt like,"29 months."Girl, WHAT?!You just gon' count the mf days and weeks like he's MILK? He's got a mf expiration date?He's TWO mf years old! SAY THAT!! I ain't got time for unneccesary math. I don't tell you I'm 360 months old then stand there while you do long division and carry the mf one in your head.Ok, I'm done. Holla.

UK.....never thought of it like it is!!

2006-08-23T08:33:00.000-07:00

hey i've been in the uk now since august 2.....n i really cant find things to rant about yet.....i think its coz i'm still new or what?.....i'm currently working with NHS as radiologist at ROYAL LONDON HOSPITAL at whitechapel....n i find this english folk'z irritatingly polite n their accent's so funny that i cant stop myself laughing sometime's.......ok now there is this doctor who i cant get word what he says unless i ask twice or somethin.....apparently they say he's from scotland....dont scottish people speak english ....what's up wit this funny accent?......wallahi i've been having the time of my life 4 the past 3 weeks....its my first time working since finishing uni.....n i decided lemme get some work experience here in da uk......otherwise i just started this blog today....n i'll be writing about my past rants and if i find any here in uk.....i'll see u guyz tomorrow or later today.

by the way what's up with cheer's mate shyt?......i dont get it!!!

That shyt aint my somali brother's!!

2006-08-23T07:58:00.000-07:00

These young somali bruthas today make me sick to my mf stomach. We're supposed to be further than this as black men. Somebody tell that to your knucklehead azz sons, nephews, and grandsons. They're so caught up out here tryin' to be a thug?You think walkin down the street wit your big azz pants hanging off is da shyt? Muggin' back at me harder than i'm muggin' you doesn't make you a thug. You're supposed to be hard now, 'cuz your hat is turned sideways, and you got shiny shyt in your mouth? Whateva, man. A lil do-rag on ur big azz head ain't impressing nobody.You wanna impress me.....hold down 2 jobs while still finding time to keep your house clean. Send some money home to somalia at least someone even if its not ya close relative. Pay your mf bills on time without borrowing money. Get promoted at work. Take care of your mf kids (and not just cuz the law forces you to). THATS impressive. You think disrespectin' that sista makes you a pimp? Not hardly, you lil bytch azz mf. Spendin' time in jail doesn't make you a mf thug. It just makes u a dumb . Why the fukk are in front of the liquor store when i'm on my way to work? It ain't even open yet. That shyt ain't cute!These young bruthas today ain't going to school. They don't have a will to succeed. Why bother? Their subject and verb doesn't HAVE to agree. They're imitating who they see on TV and videos, and this bullshyt azz music they hear on the radio. A bunch of ignorant azz mfs. Wake your dumb azzes up my somali bro's. How about putting as much emphasis on working hard and being a good example as you do chattin mumble jumble somali politics. Better yet, how about KEEPIN' a job. Damn!! For starters, how about GETTIN' a mf job?Can you do that?Huh?!

stingy mcdonalds

2006-08-23T07:36:00.000-07:00

Don't you just HATE a mf who's stingy with some shyt that ain't theirs to begin with? Oh, you know what i'm talkin' about. Like them bytches at McDonald's. They know damn well that ONE sweet-n-sour sauce aint enuff for TEN nuggets. But you wanna be stingy with the extra sauces? Talkin' bout, "15 cents, please." Fukk you, you miminum wage makin' bytch. Can YOU afford 15 cents for some shyt you supposed to get for FREE? How bout you just turn around and grab 'bout 4 or 5 of them . Some of y'all might wanna keep some in the glove box.And what about them at the bank's drive thru? You can't put a deposit slip in that 'lil tube? A mf has to drive around and come INSIDE to get one? That's how you feel? if we wanted to get out the car, we wouldn't be in the DRIVE THRU! And i know KNOW u mfs got a STACK of them joints right next to you. GIMME!! You stingy bytch! If i'm depositing MY money in your bank, handing me a deposit slip should be an added bonus. Now you gon try to hinder my financial transaction? You should be able to stuff a bank TELLER in that lil tube if a mf needs you to. You talkin' bout, "You gotta come inside for that." Bytch, it says "DRIVE" thru, not "pull up and I'll let you know if you need to come in" thru. When my money is in YOUR bank...I make the rules.And finally, what about them petty mfs in restaurants who only give you refills on sodas. Why the FUKK can't I get a refill on the cranberry juice or the apple juice. I don't drink sodas. Is it gonna hurt you THAT much to go in the back get some more? REALLY?!