Appreciating dad

for so long time i thought mom signed the wrong marriage certificate by marrying dad .. and dad he is 100% responsible of what kind of screws im in right now .. thats just lame and a very good a drama movie material.

but this is all history since 2 days ago .. i read this article of how we are responsible 100% of our own decisions .. that is so true.

from the way i see it .. i didnt choose my parents hell no one can .. yet each and every human should cope with what he/she has and try to rise above all odds and make things happens .. i always believed in that till lately when i got so depressed and miserable for so many reasons for decisions i made.

so a week ago i started counting me blessings and i figured 70 – 80% of what i have is because of my parents .. i surely acknowledge mom effort .. im living at her dad’s house ignoring how cool and supportive my dad was and still is.

so dad this blog is for you ..
since i was 2 or 3 ( i dont remember but based on the photo albums my mom kept and what she told me ) my father made sure that im not sad .. i remember when i was 11 dad told me that if im not accepting him as my father .. he is willing to be my best friend .. from the way i see it he is more than that to me .. let me demonstrate what i remember in a list

1. he never yelled at me at what so ever mistakes i did .. he was so supportive and he always find a way to TALK me out of it

dads usually tend to be violent and dictators when it comes for crossing lines and doing the un doable .. i remember when i joined the islamic group “ikhwan moslimeen” so called now as 7araka destoriya islamiya .. he warned me that these people are up to no good and their intentions are purely political .. i was like noooooo theye are so cool .. uncle faisal is there .. he is gonna take a good care for me .. uncle faisal is only 3 years older than me .. dad thought, and he told me that, i just dont want you to face disappointment from people you might get attached to .. and that pretty much what happened .. yes i got major disappointment and i remember when i left them by the age of 16 i stayed up in my room thinking ” how could they, how would they dare to do sort of stuff, how could they take ISALM as cover to propose their ideas”

2. since when we were young me and my brother and sisters he always ask me first where to go to spend the day

i noticed it only when i was 14 .. when i saw the injustice that my dad practice toward my brothers of ingnoring what ever they want to satisfy my needs .. i remember i call up fa66om and sallom to agree on a place me and brothers so when dad ask me first .. our answers matched my brother’s and sister’s answer .. hell we made a system every week is some one’s turn .. only dad didnt know about it .. and just because i love them so much we always choose what sallom’s or fa66om’s want

3. visiting dad every friday was my worst day of the week ever .. simply i didnt appreciate him back then

dad used to drive all the way from sulaibiya to my mom’s residence in khaldiya to pick me up .. in the scorching heat after noon prayer .. every friday .. never missed one .. NEVER .. just to have lunch with me and spend the day .. he did those trips in summers winters springs falls and even ramadan .. and he always receive me with a big smile .. he never bitched about it .. he never ask my mom to drop me there .. he always shows up with a big smile and candy .. KITKATs melts and he dont want me to suffer eating chocolate .. every time he picks me .. we have an amazing dad son chat and what i want to do this week end with him .. sometimes he run thing to me before he even ask my step mom .. he just loves me and i dont if it just love

4. he never allowed my step mom or any body else .. including him self .. to bother or act rude with me .. intentionally and non intentionally

you know kids they get really annoying some time .. i get to break lights in dad’s living room and break the lights and he shows me how to put them back .. instead of you yelling on me .. always taking the chance to teach me a lesson .. very gently .. he gave me my first book after i made permanent coloring on one of his rarest books .. it was a novel from the 19th century collector’s edition .. back then it worth something arround 200 KD thats 1986 .. he bought another copy for 350 KD same year and kept the one i tortured .. claiming its a memory from me it has my first drawing

5. money is not an option of what i ask for

dad always takes me to the most expensive toys store in kuwait .. not mambo jumbo of al3ab waleed .. always its KID R US .. sultan center .. or any other place that sells the latest toys there are .. he NEVER EVER turned any toy i ask for even if it was a 100 KD .. i remember a kid at school got a stuffed lion for his birthday .. and when went to kids R US .. i told him that my friend whos his father is a lawyer got this toy for his birthday .. i didnt ask for it .. i didnt even imply that i want this toy .. next day a guy knocked our door delivering that 120 KD stuffed lion ..  since him and mom got divorced he give 80 KD per month .. every month .. since 1982 .. till i got my first job in 2003 .. that 20160 KD .. WOW i just did the calculation .. some times i register for summer camps .. he gives me the 80 KD + those fees .. he never ever dropped a month .. he made it his top priority .. and the day he gives me the 80 KD .. he make sure that i dont spend any of it .. till i get back home .. my dad’s financial are not so fancy .. he used to make 350 KD per month off his teaching jobs .. 80 goes to me .. rest of it goes to my step mom my 2 brothers my 2 sisters my grandma and the maid .. 350 over 8 is 43.750 .. i get 80 off those 350 ..

6. not only when i was a kid .. even now

3 days ago .. he calls me up in the morning telling me to bring my driver’s license with 4 photos he want to renew his .. and he thought let me renew yours .. i as like cool .. he told me smiling “inshalla ma 3indik mokhalafat?” i told him i dont know but i sure have some .. he said .. well dont worry i will pay them all and subtract them from your salary .. he laughed and drove away  .. i remember my brother telling me that dad always give them a hard time when ever they get tickets .. funny he never mention that to me .. it doesn’t stop here

my relation ship with dad .. is simply by my weekly visits .. he never missed a weekend with calling first and picking me up .. but now i got my own car .. sometimes a month or 2 passes by .. without me visiting him .. he broke my heart when he got sick and he called my brother instead of me .. simply he didnt want me to worry on him not because he hates me or he cant rely on me putting in mind that his oldest son is diabetic and not to be messed with

right now i feel like a stupid ass hole who never appreciated what he has .. i surely love dad .. but i got a funny way of showing it to him .. a blog article .. dad didnt want anything from more than a weekly visit .. he always make an excuse for me .. or accept my lame excuses .. i just relized i never called him dad .. or baba .. or yuba .. i remember when i was 5 he told me .. listen to this kid he calls his old man dad .. why are you calling me dawood .. he said it very gently .. i didnt reply back then .. i guess no matter how many times i kiss his forehead asking forgiveness would it make it up for him

from today an on i will call him yuba .. i will try to pay back the great favors and actions that he did to me .. if i told him thank you .. he would say come on this is my job im your dad .. i have to treat this way .. well dad .. point out one parent who treated their sons the way you treated me .. NONE .. even your self .. you dont treat my brothers as good as you treat me .. i`ve always been you favorite .. for as long as i know .. im still am

the great dodi .. please accept my deepest sincere apologies .. i could never make it up for you .. you stood by my side when i was sick .. and i told you call me if you needed me to take you to the doctor .. thats how big of a jerk im ..

yuba i love you .. a7ibbik .. and i can never make it up to you

your sinful son ..
Barqoqi

Glass .. are hard to restore

my blog is all about passions and feelings .. anger love hate happiness .. this post how ever i dont know if it fits my blog .. well i’ll let you decide that your self .. i already categorized it in love ..  this post is about my recent relationships .. i know recent (well the past 10 years) and “S” the end of relationship you gotta think of me as a public garden .. open for every one loves every one steps in .. easy to fall and rise .. well, i’m kinda like that hate to admit it .. but i recently discovered that i fall in love very easy .. and no its not about my cars this time.

.. just deleted what we call in kuwait -nashr ghaseel- about 1000 words of my real relationships so i thought of sparing you guys the drama and have some privacy for the ladies .. i just got through a relationship .. the kind of one that shatters protected glass .. im not going through details im just gonna post how it fucking feels

picture this .. you just bought a 100 000 KD beautiful block of glass .. slightly dimmed dark grey ones with reflection that it works like an unrevealing mirror, that was my heart .. you spent all that to fix it from a college heart break .. so you do al kind of attempts to protect it .. and you go through a relationship that you think, you will protect that block of glass even better ..  and then you figure out that the block has no place in your body .. unless you break it first .. you think well it will crack, it wont shatters because its protected with kinda films that keeps the glass from shattering .. the worst thing might happen is few cracks here and there .. i was like fine .. lets crack it up, and you do it by your own hand .. only you do it so hard that its not a beautiful block any more .. it still got the looks and shape yet it has more cracks than you thought it would have .. that if you sneezed you’d shatter it .. and you swear legions to your block of glass, that the new pattern of broken glass, is as far as it gonna be of hurt, and no more sneezing due to no more gazelles and you stopped smelling flowers and roses .. what would make you sneeze!!

days go by and it happens .. you smell the most beautiful flower ever in your life .. and you think this flower is so beautiful that it wont make you sneeze .. you got your block of glass at stakes .. the risk is high, you already promised it you wont sneeze .. yet you go for it .. you believe this is it .. this is the one .. and the worst thing could ever happen is a pre-sneeze .. well you are expert with flowers now .. you would tell which are the ones would make you sneeze so you would walk away at the last minute, so you thought .. and you sneeze, and you sneeze, and you sneeze so hard it shatters the patterned heart .. that is impossible to put it back together .. your block of glass got broken so hard that a splinter broke hers (her block of glass) .. so instead of having only a semi-broken block of glass you ended up with shattering 2 blocks .. her broken block is not fixable neither yours .. you can’t fix it with out cutting your palms .. so you attempt to fix hers, as an act of gentlemen hood, and you succeed of doing it ..

now back to the original block .. and you are thinking .. shall i fix it .. why would i .. it will get more dust than ever and it would be hard to clear because it will have deeper cracks .. not to mention hard to put it back together .. and your hands are cut cut so deep that you cant use it normally any more .. you will spend endless time and effort to do so ..  performing self-hypnosise one night (last night) .. seeing your time line and plan the process of healing that block .. the plan looked so great .. but looking at my history of operating and accomplishing  plans and backing up from flowers in the right time SUCKS!  .. as they say a 1000 mile trip starts with a step .. and im still worried of each step, how shall i know it wont crack the rebuilt block of hers or breaks any achievements of fixing mine ..

nothing works .. and your salvation preaches you “nothing cant be tolerated with a drive on GR with your beast” ..  till i fix my shinning unrevealing dimmed block of glass .. i already got plans for it .. where to double protect that heart and the next attempt to break it is fatal

new posts, new blogs, only to me XD

i was going through a friend’s profile in FACEBOOK (BTW this is my profile) and i saw few blogs listed in her profile i was like, WTH let me check them out, they are so passionate about their county (yes it’s their’s not mine) i was like, haaaaaaih old times *sighs* back in the days when i used to love kuwait as much as they did i used to feel like that, i used to be as much as a fighter as they were, till some one told me “int shako?” hehehe i was like yea right! “ana shako” they dont want me to be part of them, the country doesnt want me to be part of it. my grandfather (Kuwaiti diplomatic retiree after 35 years of serving his country) keep promising me that “il hnood oo il lafo il khamma illi tjanniso mo a7san minnik” granpa! with all due respect, i dont wanna be part of them too, because what i was preaching in my data base classes is REAL now! (in my classes, i was saying without data bases, we would have a Sikh person coming to kuwaiti authority claiming he is kuwaiti and no one can proof the opposite) its happening now, thats the sick, funny, and sedated part of why i dont wanna be a kuwaiti any more (some one might say, bshhhh yea right! wala 3omrek et7alim feeeha.. i might reply with, i never did dream of it, i never wanted it ever, only mom who’s born and raised in kuwait who’s teaching her lungs out in KG since 1984, my father who’s born and raised in kuwait who’s still educating ludachris assholes in kuwait university, and my granpa -mentioned above- wanted it for me, still i never did, funny isn’t it)

i even started achannel back in IRC when it was clean with a motto “we love kuwait but we hate the poeple”, but what i still cant figure out! why the hell im still crying when ever i see clips such as the following (im gonna put links only, not embeded objects, to make it short, only if you really wanna see them you’d bother to copy and paste the URLs in your browser):

1. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o5UAkDjqev8     .. first viewed on this blog
2. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g84JEimNavY    .. first viewed as a related video from the previous one
3. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K-R7pCZwz2Q
4. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vj-IZwPmfiY
5. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DGyvWZ2VUSQ
6. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Djbhly3-ZWs
7. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=haUW6wPEabQ      .. my favorite

do i still love kuwait hmm i dont know, my dad always say “il marba thabba7″ when i was 13 i thought he was talking about “jam”, jam cant kill youthe germs made it might, when i got diabetes i was like “is that what he meant?” i still laugh at every time i remember the way i used to think, it means you cant leave where you were raised.

then i go like they gotta be GOOD KUWAITIES you know what im saying? i guess you won’t well check out these blogs, they gave me hope of kuwait might be a better place after all, young pens, stig like little pins, one day will be political pillars, insha-allah (crossing fingers and toes) four amazing blogs their heart beats kuwait in wach blog they write here is the list:

1. al gurain house .. named after the great epic resistant in grain area during the invasion last days
2. ostath 7amam .. sarcastic name describing how bad it is, with a touch of serious and black comedy
3. om9idda .. one of the old villages in kuwait, right now its just an open area but before it was populated and great writers and thinkers came from it

i never been a blogs fan, still never will, i started my blog to talk my ass off, still im doing it , but every time i needed a dose of kuwait’s love i just read some of those blogs (or view video number 7) each describes shitty events and lovely events from his own perspective, lovely isn’t it, my idea about blogs it should be only for girls and ladies when it comes to politics, because they dont have official dewaniyas yet XD, only some lafo and khamma ladies started their own but still the community is not accepting it (cant blame the community), but thank-allah we men have dewaniyas we can speak and laugh our ass out even in presence of “the new guy”, when it was time for far3eya for 3agad il “new guys” were replaced with Egyptians the dumb ass 3awazim thought they were half Kuwaitis XD

still i have an empty space in my heart, a big one for a country who’s willing to embrace me, I’m bedoun and I’m proud of it, if this is kuwait illi mayteen 3leeha, money ooooooh money we have money like this “doing the shuffle move of abdulhsain in bye bye london” Pride Nooooooooooo kuwait no have Pride only OIL only Money. to be honest the kuwaiti pride is dieing with whome embraced it such as the late Dr. Ahmed al rob3i RIP, assholes like fo2ad il hashim, and mother fuckers such as Dr. ahmed il baghdadi, the first one took kuwait’s pride with him down to the grave we remoursed him for few days and then what? what aout his teachings and preaches it died with him, the rest 2 they are still fucking up kuwait’s pride can’t we replace them both with one book of al rob3i, i guess impossible exists some times.

baba jaber RIP once said: “kuwait is Kuwaitis” wainik ya baba jaber tshoof 3yalik il kuwaitiyen shga3ed ysawwon yaleetik rabbaait il deera mithil ma rabbait your bio-children

/me wakes up from a bad dream   ..  im still bedoun aint I? ashwaaaaaaa

وردتي غزال أبيض

وردتي هي أجمل ورود العالم
وردتي هي امرأتي
ان تعطرت بأنفاسها
أتتك جيوش صفر مسلحين بحيائها

ان لمستها
غرزت فيك سم اشتياقها
متعة الألم بأشواكها
بيديها تجرعت حبها

ان نظرت اليها
أدمنت عينيك ناظريها
ان منعتهم عنها
ألمت بك روعة ذكرياتها
ان أسلمتهم لها
قتلتك بالشوق إليها

وردتي هي أجمل الورود البيضاء
وردتي هي غزال أبيض

enough of the crap .. just shut the F*** UP!

thats what i tell my self some times, and to others, most of the times, as a matter of a fact all the times.

First Salam,

yes im very pissed right now i might break something in me, hang on! (our half Singaporean  professor always says it, with a Thai english accent) i’m already broken, busted shoulders and knees, diabetes and its a long list. enough of the crap .. just shut the F*** UP! and finish the F*** what you were F***ing saying.

see i told you i do that some times to my self. any how, most of my article are about relationships, some one i love, a close friend, a dear friend where the heck does it end! is it gonna end? im guessing not, so to keep in flow of what i wrote in the past, im gonna dull your head about another relationship Hickup .. bless you!.. i know we don’t say bless you after that but i just felt i should.

Hickups are not the voices, its not the actual thing its a F*** up but i call it hickup, even when i wrote a tech. support ticket to my server providers i said hick up and they just didnt get it.. hicked up support team and sales

ok here it comes ..

you meet someone or someonna (for the non arab readers its a female someone) or when ever you talk to them by phone sms email voice sms you gotta go HICKUP (replace the HICK with F*** .. see what im saying) you gotta end your conversation with them with a hickup (are you getting it now!..) you might say WTH not heck but HICK for F*** … i would say well, dude or dudda (for non arab speakers it means female dude, i dont know if there is such a thing) .. DUDE/DUDDA i do give a HiCK (… you like it dontcha… i know i do) man/babe i cherish you i care for you i respect you (ooooookay so why the hickups ??)

my analysis is, you care for you friend/frineda (enough explanations ..  just shut the F*** UP! and go with the flow) so much and you forget all what matters in business life (well you dont treat your friend as your partner) because you feel you are so down with him/himma (okay its her) and you dont need all that crap of choosing your words choosing your thoughts, i know some people they demand their respect i cherish that honestly, its just i get tired some time, i wanna feel im someone’s/someonna’s (you do get the feminize thingy) casual friend. i guess im not the only one who does these hickups (got your back, no sweat) i really do care for my friends/freindsat, like today for instance i called a friend at 2:45 (there is no frienda in this ..) hey man i need a ride to the clinc, he goes man im at my desk i get off at 5 .. i was like WTH, i didnt say it to him, i hung up on him i was in pain and dizzyness like right now my kidney is hicking me up it the potassium that my doctor gave me, after i drove all the way to mangaf to get it .. long story i’ll tell y’all little later all about it .. and now that guy is pissed .. kho il g**** shako t9akra eb wayhi (translation: brother of prostitute why the Hick you hung up on me, and it cant get any cleaner!), damn you Hicker i was in pain how would i ask you to drive me to clinic and be OK :S WTH! .. besides we are friends we are budds i Hick you some times you Hick me some times (not the actual humping its a metaphor you sick bastards) i mean dude shit happens

funny story, it happened with a dudda but not today way back in 2004 i asked himma (her) to give me a ride home after my car got broken (battery died, and i was almost half drunk of tiredness) and im diabetic and i love my beast i wrote a whole article about my beast, i was so dam pissed, with here i didnt hick up i just turned away for an @$# your back’s eye (donkey + where the sun dont shine.. go figure) he was like no man im late i got work tomorrow, WOULD YOU ALL STOP SAYING YOU GOT WORK TO CATCH UP ON! i almost got fired for a friend i was hooking him up and checking on his shipped DVDs in aramex and you tell me you got work to catch on next morning HICK YOU mother Hicker

i guess no one appreciates his/hissa (got it!) friends the way i do, i mean freinds means alot to me, its a big deal, its THE DEAL. with your friends all communication skills drop dead i mean gimmi a break they are your friends or loved ones or who ever i dont give a hick .. its just with friends loved ones hicked up ones you just be who you are and you enjoy being it .. so just hicking B it (its not burhan and its not b-arts.net.. just read it as is)

we do forget our manners and well behaviors in presence of close ones, its not because we want to, its just we want to get even closer (some say if you just got “only friends” with a girl, you know you made a wrong turn somewhere .. its just hicked up joke and it was hanging on the tip of my head, had to say it) see! exactly that is what i mean…  i mean im writting things for my friends to read, im blogging my a$# (just donkey) out, this is how i exactly i feel in presence of my friends no matter how the hick close they/theyya (there is no feminine plural in english but we have one in arabic and its .. ha`9ila2ee) are, you just cant stop hicking up on them/thammat (its not masabbat its not jam3 thimma its the feminine of them in my hicked up english)

they got a program called HeMaM (it means guts) we should do THiMaM (jam3 thimma) people have some thimma and thameer just act as if you didnt listen to your friends hickups, enough of the crap .. just shut the F*** UP! and listen to him/himma

peace and love y’all

angry people

don’t we love it when angry people take it off their chest, i know i do , i love it when they form it into a song or a movie or comics or poems even a blog post.

i posted my angry post few weeks ago, this is not an update nor a reminder its loving that feeling “expressing anger” you see i loved expressing anger, makes you feel high with no drugs, reliefe with no pain killer, safe and home even if you were out there in a blistering storm.

the first anger expression i’ve experienced, is when i first met my favorite rapper “white rabbit” “Marshal Mathers” “Slim Shady” “EMINEM”. you see he raps his feelings, that’s why he was a number one rapper in short time, he is fired with passion, passion for love, passion to be a thug, passion to express anger. you see those dumb ass rappers selling their thoughts and ideas and stupid listeners find them selves in their lyrics, that’s not always right. sometimes someone’s pain could be everyone else’s.

what i like about him, his individuality, im not gonna talk about him in this blog the ass hole speaks for him self, i admired in him expressing it out, what i mean by it is his feelings here are some of his tracks off youtube

here he was mad at 2 face people

here he was mad at the way he treated his daughter

here he was mad at people with the way they thought about him

enough already of this guy .. lets move to another way of expressing anger, i was watching a clip titles FUCK! hehehe this post dated in Ramadan 2008 well, its not pornography and showing anger into pron hehehe (that was one of my friends impressions), this clip is the main inspiration for this post not eminem, this clip about a man who lived in a city and surrounded by people of all kind, he was holding it down into him self till one day he broke it out on the mirror when saw the words “fuck you”. enough said about it here is the movie

i loved the way he formed it into a scene of person and his self in a mirror dialogue sure the actor have done amazing job acting it.

and i conclude with best of what is there in poetry that was written in anger, its by the famous syrian poet NIZAR QABBANI.. its in arabic though

شكراً لكم ..

شكراً لكم . .

فحبيبتي قتلت .. وصار بوسعكم

أن تشربوا كأساً على قبر الشهيده

وقصيدتي اغتيلت ..

وهل من أمـةٍ في الأرض ..

- إلا نحن – تغتال القصيدة ؟

بلقيس …

كانت أجمل الملكات في تاريخ بابل

بلقيس ..

كانت أطول النخلات في أرض العراق

كانت إذا تمشي ..

ترافقها طواويسٌ ..

وتتبعها أيائل ..

بلقيس .. يا وجعي ..

ويا وجع القصيدة حين تلمسها الأنامل

هل يا ترى ..

من بعد شعرك سوف ترتفع السنابل ؟

يا نينوى الخضراء ..

يا غجريتي الشقراء ..

يا أمواج دجلة . .

تلبس في الربيع بساقها

أحلى الخلاخل ..

قتلوك يا بلقيس ..

أية أمةٍ عربيةٍ ..

تلك التي

تغتال أصوات البلابل ؟

أين السموأل ؟

والمهلهل ؟

والغطاريف الأوائل ؟

فقبائلٌ أكلت قبائل ..

وثعالبٌ قتـلت ثعالب ..

وعناكبٌ قتلت عناكب ..

قسماً بعينيك اللتين إليهما ..

تأوي ملايين الكواكب ..

سأقول ، يا قمري ، عن العرب العجائب

فهل البطولة كذبةٌ عربيةٌ ؟

أم مثلنا التاريخ كاذب ؟.

بلقيس

لا تتغيبي عني

فإن الشمس بعدك

لا تضيء على السواحل . .

سأقول في التحقيق :

إن اللص أصبح يرتدي ثوب المقاتل

وأقول في التحقيق :

إن القائد الموهوب أصبح كالمقاول ..

وأقول :

إن حكاية الإشعاع ، أسخف نكتةٍ قيلت ..

فنحن قبيلةٌ بين القبائل

هذا هو التاريخ . . يا بلقيس ..

كيف يفرق الإنسان ..

ما بين الحدائق والمزابل

بلقيس ..

أيتها الشهيدة .. والقصيدة ..

والمطهرة النقية ..

سبـأٌ تفتش عن مليكتها

فردي للجماهير التحية ..

يا أعظم الملكات ..

يا امرأةً تجسد كل أمجاد العصور السومرية

بلقيس ..

يا عصفورتي الأحلى ..

ويا أيقونتي الأغلى

ويا دمعاً تناثر فوق خد المجدلية

أترى ظلمتك إذ نقلتك

ذات يومٍ .. من ضفاف الأعظمية

بيروت .. تقتل كل يومٍ واحداً منا ..

وتبحث كل يومٍ عن ضحية

والموت .. في فنجان قهوتنا ..

وفي مفتاح شقتنا ..

وفي أزهار شرفتنا ..

وفي ورق الجرائد ..

والحروف الأبجدية …

ها نحن .. يا بلقيس ..

ندخل مرةً أخرى لعصر الجاهلية ..

ها نحن ندخل في التوحش ..

والتخلف .. والبشاعة .. والوضاعة ..

ندخل مرةً أخرى .. عصور البربرية ..

حيث الكتابة رحلةٌ

بين الشظية .. والشظية

حيث اغتيال فراشةٍ في حقلها ..

صار القضية ..

هل تعرفون حبيبتي بلقيس ؟

فهي أهم ما كتبوه في كتب الغرام

كانت مزيجاً رائعاً

بين القطيفة والرخام ..

كان البنفسج بين عينيها

ينام ولا ينام ..

بلقيس ..

يا عطراً بذاكرتي ..

ويا قبراً يسافر في الغمام ..

قتلوك ، في بيروت ، مثل أي غزالةٍ

من بعدما .. قتلوا الكلام ..

بلقيس ..

ليست هذه مرثيةً

لكن ..

على العرب السلام

بلقيس ..

مشتاقون .. مشتاقون .. مشتاقون ..

والبيت الصغير ..

يسائل عن أميرته المعطرة الذيول

نصغي إلى الأخبار .. والأخبار غامضةٌ

ولا تروي فضول ..

بلقيس ..

مذبوحون حتى العظم ..

والأولاد لا يدرون ما يجري ..

ولا أدري أنا .. ماذا أقول ؟

هل تقرعين الباب بعد دقائقٍ ؟

هل تخلعين المعطف الشتوي ؟

هل تأتين باسمةً ..

وناضرةً ..

ومشرقةً كأزهار الحقول ؟

بلقيس ..

إن زروعك الخضراء ..

ما زالت على الحيطان باكيةً ..

ووجهك لم يزل متنقلاً ..

بين المرايا والستائر

حتى سجارتك التي أشعلتها

لم تنطفئ ..

ودخانها

ما زال يرفض أن يسافر

بلقيس ..

مطعونون .. مطعونون في الأعماق ..

والأحداق يسكنها الذهول

بلقيس ..

كيف أخذت أيامي .. وأحلامي ..

وألغيت الحدائق والفصول ..

يا زوجتي ..

وحبيبتي .. وقصيدتي .. وضياء عيني ..

قد كنت عصفوري الجميل ..

فكيف هربت يا بلقيس مني ؟..

بلقيس ..

هذا موعد الشاي العراقي المعطر ..

والمعتق كالسلافة ..

فمن الذي سيوزع الأقداح .. أيتها الزرافة ؟

ومن الذي نقل الفرات لبيتنا ..

وورود دجلة والرصافة ؟

بلقيس ..

إن الحزن يثقبني ..

وبيروت التي قتلتك .. لا تدري جريمتها

وبيروت التي عشقتك ..

تجهل أنها قتلت عشيقتها ..

وأطفأت القمر ..

بلقيس ..

يا بلقيس ..

يا بلقيس

كل غمامةٍ تبكي عليك ..

فمن ترى يبكي عليا ..

بلقيس .. كيف رحلت صامتةً

ولم تضعي يديك .. على يديا ؟

بلقيس ..

كيف تركتنا في الريح ..

نرجف مثل أوراق الشجر ؟

وتركتنا – نحن الثلاثة – ضائعين

كريشةٍ تحت المطر ..

أتراك ما فكرت بي ؟

وأنا الذي يحتاج حبك .. مثل (زينب) أو (عمر)

بلقيس ..

يا كنزاً خرافياً ..

ويا رمحاً عراقياً ..

وغابة خيزران ..

يا من تحديت النجوم ترفعاً ..

من أين جئت بكل هذا العنفوان ؟

بلقيس ..

أيتها الصديقة .. والرفيقة ..

والرقيقة مثل زهرة أقحوان ..

ضاقت بنا بيروت .. ضاق البحر ..

ضاق بنا المكان ..

بلقيس : ما أنت التي تتكررين ..

فما لبلقيس اثنتان ..

بلقيس ..

تذبحني التفاصيل الصغيرة في علاقتنا ..

وتجلدني الدقائق والثواني ..

فلكل دبوسٍ صغيرٍ .. قصةٌ

ولكل عقدٍ من عقودك قصتان

حتى ملاقط شعرك الذهبي ..

تغمرني ،كعادتها ، بأمطار الحنان

ويعرش الصوت العراقي الجميل ..

على الستائر ..

والمقاعد ..

والأواني ..

ومن المرايا تطلعين ..

من الخواتم تطلعين ..

من القصيدة تطلعين ..

من الشموع ..

من الكؤوس ..

من النبيذ الأرجواني ..

بلقيس ..

يا بلقيس .. يا بلقيس ..

لو تدرين ما وجع المكان ..

في كل ركنٍ .. أنت حائمةٌ كعصفورٍ ..

وعابقةٌ كغابة بيلسان ..

فهناك .. كنت تدخنين ..

هناك .. كنت تطالعين ..

هناك .. كنت كنخلةٍ تتمشطين ..

وتدخلين على الضيوف ..

كأنك السيف اليماني ..

بلقيس ..

أين زجاجة ( الغيرلان ) ؟

والولاعة الزرقاء ..

أين سجارة الـ (الكنت ) التي

ما فارقت شفتيك ؟

أين (الهاشمي ) مغنياً ..

فوق القوام المهرجان ..

تتذكر الأمشاط ماضيها ..

فيكرج دمعها ..

هل يا ترى الأمشاط من أشواقها أيضاً تعاني ؟

بلقيس : صعبٌ أن أهاجر من دمي ..

وأنا المحاصر بين ألسنة اللهيب ..

وبين ألسنة الدخان …

بلقيس : أيتها الأميرة

ها أنت تحترقين .. في حرب العشيرة والعشيرة

ماذا سأكتب عن رحيل مليكتي ؟

إن الكلام فضيحتي ..

ها نحن نبحث بين أكوام الضحايا ..

عن نجمةٍ سقطت ..

وعن جسدٍ تناثر كالمرايا ..

ها نحن نسأل يا حبيبة ..

إن كان هذا القبر قبرك أنت

أم قبر العروبة ..

بلقيس :

يا صفصافةً أرخت ضفائرها علي ..

ويا زرافة كبرياء

بلقيس :

إن قضاءنا العربي أن يغتالنا عربٌ ..

ويأكل لحمنا عربٌ ..

ويبقر بطننا عربٌ ..

ويفتح قبرنا عربٌ ..

فكيف نفر من هذا القضاء ؟

فالخنجر العربي .. ليس يقيم فرقاً

بين أعناق الرجال ..

وبين أعناق النساء ..

بلقيس :

إن هم فجروك .. فعندنا

كل الجنائز تبتدي في كربلاء ..

وتنتهي في كربلاء ..

لن أقرأ التاريخ بعد اليوم

إن أصابعي اشتعلت ..

وأثوابي تغطيها الدماء ..

ها نحن ندخل عصرنا الحجري

نرجع كل يومٍ ، ألف عامٍ للوراء …

البحر في بيروت ..

بعد رحيل عينيك استقال ..

والشعر .. يسأل عن قصيدته

التي لم تكتمل كلماتها ..

ولا أحدٌ .. يجيب على السؤال

الحزن يا بلقيس ..

يعصر مهجتي كالبرتقالة ..

الآن .. أعرف مأزق الكلمات

أعرف ورطة اللغة المحالة ..

وأنا الذي اخترع الرسائل ..

لست أدري .. كيف أبتدئ الرسالة ..

السيف يدخل لحم خاصرتي

وخاصرة العبارة ..

كل الحضارة ، أنت يا بلقيس ، والأنثى حضارة ..

بلقيس : أنت بشارتي الكبرى ..

فمن سرق البشارة ؟

أنت الكتابة قبلما كانت كتابة ..

أنت الجزيرة والمنارة ..

بلقيس :

يا قمري الذي طمروه ما بين الحجارة ..

الآن ترتفع الستارة ..

الآن ترتفع الستارة ..

سأقول في التحقيق ..

إني أعرف الأسماء .. والأشياء .. والسجناء ..

والشهداء .. والفقراء .. والمستضعفين ..

وأقول إني أعرف السياف قاتل زوجتي ..

ووجوه كل المخبرين ..

وأقول : إن عفافنا عهرٌ ..

وتقوانا قذارة ..

وأقول : إن نضالنا كذبٌ

وأن لا فرق ..

ما بين السياسة والدعارة !!

سأقول في التحقيق :

إني قد عرفت القاتلين

وأقول :

إن زماننا العربي مختصٌ بذبح الياسمين

وبقتل كل الأنبياء ..

وقتل كل المرسلين ..

حتى العيون الخضر ..

يأكلها العرب

حتى الضفائر .. والخواتم

والأساور .. والمرايا .. واللعب ..

حتى النجوم تخاف من وطني ..

ولا أدري السبب ..

حتى الطيور تفر من وطني ..

و لا أدري السبب ..

حتى الكواكب .. والمراكب .. والسحب

حتى الدفاتر .. والكتب ..

وجميع أشياء الجمال ..

جميعها .. ضد العرب ..

لما تناثر جسمك الضوئي

يا بلقيس ،

لؤلؤةً كريمة

فكرت : هل قتل النساء هوايةٌ عربيةٌ

أم أننا في الأصل ، محترفو جريمة ؟

بلقيس ..

يا فرسي الجميلة .. إنني

من كل تاريخي خجول

هذي بلادٌ يقتلون بها الخيول ..

هذي بلادٌ يقتلون بها الخيول ..

من يوم أن نحروك ..

يا بلقيس ..

يا أحلى وطن ..

لا يعرف الإنسان كيف يعيش في هذا الوطن ..

لا يعرف الإنسان كيف يموت في هذا الوطن ..

ما زلت أدفع من دمي ..

أعلى جزاء ..

كي أسعد الدنيا .. ولكن السماء

شاءت بأن أبقى وحيداً ..

مثل أوراق الشتاء

هل يولد الشعراء من رحم الشقاء ؟

وهل القصيدة طعنةٌ

في القلب .. ليس لها شفاء ؟

أم أنني وحدي الذي

عيناه تختصران تاريخ البكاء ؟

سأقول في التحقيق :

كيف غزالتي ماتت بسيف أبي لهب

كل اللصوص من الخليج إلى المحيط ..

يدمرون .. ويحرقون ..

وينهبون .. ويرتشون ..

ويعتدون على النساء ..

كما يريد أبو لهب ..

كل الكلاب موظفون ..

ويأكلون ..

ويسكرون ..

على حساب أبي لهب ..

لا قمحةٌ في الأرض ..

تنبت دون رأي أبي لهب

لا طفل يولد عندنا

إلا وزارت أمه يوماً ..

فراش أبي لهب !!…

لا سجن يفتح ..

دون رأي أبي لهب ..

لا رأس يقطع

دون أمر أبي لهب ..

سأقول في التحقيق :

كيف أميرتي اغتصبت

وكيف تقاسموا فيروز عينيها

وخاتم عرسها ..

وأقول كيف تقاسموا الشعر الذي

يجري كأنهار الذهب ..

سأقول في التحقيق :

كيف سطوا على آيات مصحفها الشريف

وأضرموا فيه اللهب ..

سأقول كيف استنزفوا دمها ..

وكيف استملكوا فمها ..

فما تركوا به ورداً .. ولا تركوا عنب

هل موت بلقيسٍ …

هو النصر الوحيد

بكل تاريخ العرب ؟؟…

بلقيس ..

يا معشوقتي حتى الثمالة ..

الأنبياء الكاذبون ..

يقرفصون ..

ويركبون على الشعوب

ولا رسالة ..

لو أنهم حملوا إلينا ..

من فلسطين الحزينة ..

نجمةً ..

أو برتقالة ..

لو أنهم حملوا إلينا ..

من شواطئ غزةٍ

حجراً صغيراً

أو محارة ..

لو أنهم من ربع قرنٍ حرروا ..

زيتونةً ..

أو أرجعوا ليمونةً

ومحوا عن التاريخ عاره

لشكرت من قتلوك .. يا بلقيس ..

يا معشوقتي حتى الثمالة ..

لكنهم تركوا فلسطيناً

ليغتالوا غزالة !!…

ماذا يقول الشعر ، يا بلقيس ..

في هذا الزمان ؟

ماذا يقول الشعر ؟

في العصر الشعوبي ..

المجوسي ..

الجبان

والعالم العربي

مسحوقٌ .. ومقموعٌ ..

ومقطوع اللسان ..

نحن الجريمة في تفوقها

فما ( العقد الفريد ) وما ( الأغاني ) ؟؟

أخذوك أيتها الحبيبة من يدي ..

أخذوا القصيدة من فمي ..

أخذوا الكتابة .. والقراءة ..

والطفولة .. والأماني

بلقيس .. يا بلقيس ..

يا دمعاً ينقط فوق أهداب الكمان ..

علمت من قتلوك أسرار الهوى

لكنهم .. قبل انتهاء الشوط

قد قتلوا حصاني

بلقيس :

أسألك السماح ، فربما

كانت حياتك فديةً لحياتي ..

إني لأعرف جيداً ..

أن الذين تورطوا في القتل ، كان مرادهم

أن يقتلوا كلماتي !!!

نامي بحفظ الله .. أيتها الجميلة

فالشعر بعدك مستحيلٌ ..

والأنوثة مستحيلة

ستظل أجيالٌ من الأطفال ..

تسأل عن ضفائرك الطويلة ..

وتظل أجيالٌ من العشاق

تقرأ عنك . . أيتها المعلمة الأصيلة …

وسيعرف الأعراب يوماً ..

أنهم قتلوا الرسولة ..

قتلوا الرسولة ..

ق .. ت .. ل ..و .. ا

ال .. ر .. س .. و .. ل .. ة

you see the way he chose the most arabic name ever “Balqees”, there is Balqees in every girl, wife, mom, and female yet its not what he meant, he was picturing balqees as the ARAB WORLD, the ARAB mentality, The Arabs in General, balqees was murdered by arabs, arabs murdered their mentality, dignity, and a lot of other to die for pillars. read it, trigger your understanding sensors, see where it takes you

you see guys, hate can be formulated into so many ways could be directed to sport to take it out on a punching bag, or a real person ~ .. Mohammad Ali clay in an interview once he answered “.. anger make me improvise” it makes him innovative, why don’t we do that. say you are a teacher and your supervisor take it out on you, probably for a silly reason or like my ex-boss he gets really cranky when is not getting any (you know what i mean), instead of firing it on the students, why not giving you student a project to test their understanding or mentality, go down stairs and yell in the basement (done all of the above). you see no matter how bad you are angry, you can always drift it away if you a beast like mine

live well, anger free, and smiling like a Canadian hot girl

live well, yell at the right people

swept me off my feet

right there, swept me off my feet. i noticed it, i’ve been moved, is she the right one, it cant be!, but hey! we are so a like, we finish each others lines. when i first met her my heart pounded so fast it almost went off my chest cage, when i first saw her picture i fleshed; no way it can’t be, why am i feeling like that. but im already in love i already got someone, she loves me and i love her, though she is not tellin’ but i do love her and she is loving me back, so what she is not saying but im feelin’ it.

still in shock, every time i hear her coming, the sounds the clicks, sometimes the roars, why am i shaking, is it love from first sight, is a fling, is it a crush, a childish crush. but im so sure of my feeligns, i dont wanna hurt the one that i love now, i wanna love both. could it be? would it be?, so be it

i hereby declare my love to the second one, i love each one of them, would they love me back?, would they allow it?, that’s it, its dual true love, i felt the same when i met the one i love, is it true than men a horney bastards creatures, this is god how created it us, full of lust and sins, yet with the power of choice. CHOICE no im not choosing between them i love them i want them i can’t live without them

OH GOD THERE she is, amazing body work, amazing glaring blue eyes, uhhhhh her waist line, her chest, her lips oh god she just passed me by, even rear looks kills me standing, im defenceless

Please God forgive my sins, i have falling in love with 2 amazing embalas, beasts on the streets freaks me out to bed. Please God forgive my first lust and love for my Honda S2000 and my wild crush and true love of the austin martin DB9S
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Poems i love

a cool poem by nizar qabbani .. ayathonno! .. every time i read go to places i never been to .. i never had this situation .. would i try to treat a girl like that? .. am i gonna be the girl’s position one day? .. i dont wanna be in both situations

أَيَـظُـنُّ أنِّـي لُعبَـةٌ بيَدَيْـهِ ؟
أنـا لا أفَكِّـرُ بالرّجـوعِ إليـهِ
اليومَ عادَ .. كأنَّ شـيئاً لم يكُـنْ
وبراءةُ الأطـفالِ في عَـيْنيْهِ …
ليقـولَ لي : إنِّي رفيقـةُ دربِـهِ
وبأنّني الحـبُّ الوحيـدُ لَدَيْـهِ..
حَمَلَ الزّهورَ إليَّ .. كيـفَ أرُدُّهُ
وصِبَايَ مرسـومٌ على شَـفَتَيْهِ ؟
ما عدْتُ أذكُرُ، والحرائقُ في دَمي
كيـفَ التجَـأْتُ أنا إلى زَنْدَيْـهِ
خبَّأتُ رأسـي عنـدَهُ … وكأنّني
طفـلٌ أعـادوهُ إلـى أبَوَيْـهِ ..
حـتّى فسـاتيني التي أهملتُـها
فَرحَتْ بهِ .. رَقَصَتْ على قَدَمَيْهِ
سـامَحتُهُ.. وسـألتُ عن أخبارِهِ
وبكيـتُ سـاعاتٍ على كَتِفَيْـهِ
وبدونِ أن أدري تركتُ له يـدي
لتنامَ كالعصفـورِ بيـنَ يَدَيـْهِ ..
ونَسيتُ حقدي كُلَّهُ فـي لَحظَـةٍ
مَن قالَ إنّي قد حَقَـدْتُ عليهِ ؟
كَم قُلتُ إنّي غيـرُ عائـدَةٍ لـهُ
ورَجعتُ .. ما أحلى الرّجوعَ إليهِ

yet another cool poem, this one is by my students, the read this poem on 1000 students in INJAZ graduation ceromony battle of the best 2 in 2007 held in al raya ball room, the told me to get them a permission to read a poem, i though ok they love kuwait lets hear, i wen to anouncer and asked him to give them few minutes, they go like

اليوم يومكم يا منبع الإحساس .. ولدابخاطري كلام من نبض الانفاس
باسمي وباسم شباب تخرجوا من دفعة يديده .. كلام اقوله لشخص رفع لنا الراس
كل فينا حصد ما غرس من طيب ايده .. عيّد يا مبارك يا من بنيت في كياني من العلم اساس
كلن غنى اليوم بفرحته عيده .. اليوم يا مبارك لبسك تاج من الحكمه ألماس
سبحان ربي هادي العقول الرشيده .. حلمك يا صبي تحقق واصبح الحلم نبراس
وكل من جد مثلك صار عالي رصيده .. اليوم يومكم يا منبع الاحساس
ولدكم رفع رايتكم بالصروح المجيده .. يا مبارك والله انك غير عن كل هالاجناس
دره مكنونه في البحر فريده.. لآجل وطن معطاء من دون مقياس

نوّر لنا في الظلمات الشديده .. سمت له الروح في ويه أهل المكيده
لا ما عرفت شي بحياتك اسمه الياس .. خطيت خطوات في سبيل العلم سديده
ليي ما وصلت بغصنك العالي المياس .. لنجوم في السما عديده
عيش يا مبارك سنين العمر بين زحمة الناس .. عالي الهامي بروح سعيده
وتبقى قصتك ب واي نوت للتاريخ يسردها تسريده .. ولذكريات افراحه يكررها و يعيده
ما اقول إلا! .. يا عسى ربي يحقق لمستشارنا ما يريده

i almost cried right there, i was standing the middle of the ball room everyone was staring at me (my students, other students, judges, supervisors) and they were all clapping min il fashla i was clapping ba3ad

Removing Bolts from my shoulder

in DECEMBER 2006 on the 25th actually i suffer a bi-shoulder dislocation .. both of my shoulders dislocated simultaneously upward (to front) and broke the leverage that holds the shoulder bone from going forward, what my case really weird are 2 things, first usually shoulders get dislocated toward the back not toward the chest, second they “doctors and specialists” still don’t know what broke my shoulders

i wrote this article about a year ago (last aug. 2007) .. when i was scheduled to remove the bolts that got installed in me few months ago ..  i was so pissed, typing with one hand, standing, i’veth systems in Kuwait SUCKS! .. and i divided the articles into days .. i was adding pissed crazy thoughts every day prior and after the removal operation

Day 1 Addmision day:

couldn’t imagine that heali was up all night anxious about the stupid indian nurses might take some wrong turn somewhere and screw my diabetes up .. which is really happened .. had to call my physician and he was out of the country the other dumb ass physician (my cool doctor substitute) told them to unplug my insulin pump, WTF!. he was afraid to take the responsibility, he did .. when i called again he didnt pick up i called like 10 times he still didn’t call back .. at the admission desk, a lazy old indian male nurse (the slowest man on earth) he was like .. who’s da patient?? DUH im right in front of you wrapped like a mummy who do you think it is?

he goes oooooooooooooooh (very long one) you are so younggggg with think eastern madry south indnian accent .. i was like ok whats next .. he wrapped my medical history and gave a 70s indian movie scene .. you are tttooo youngg, how come, oh mhy GgooDDD you broke your shoulders tssk tssk, then i was like can i have my file please and the slow fuck was still tssking with other nurses .. i ran to my doctor and i told him you gotta move me from there man please i beg you :`( ..patients are throwing up .. i was throwing up with them i call that period compassion throw ups

then i found out a cool wa96a person always showing up at 9 (her shift starts at 7.30) then she had a breakfast for like an hour .. then she called some one who knew some one who killed someone who miss treated someone and who knew someone and got me a private room YAAAY an end of an ERA .. i was like cool being an ass is awesome i should be one … nurses and doctors coming and going i keep telling them about my mp3 player (my insulin pump) i had 7 nurses coming in i was teaching them how inject my self what are my doses (short active) what is my day long dose (long active) so they can monitor me .. i gave them a 30 minutes class for almost 2 entire shifts of nurses .. then they go like “oh we so sorry we will use our methods” (bastards!!!)

day2 Operation day:

some old indian bitch walked in at 4 am i was like, haaa what happened am i dead .. she goes like  “yalla habeebi strip up” i was thinking i pitty your boyfriend, if you had one, i think she is gay no man could end ep with her, unless he i blind and deph and has no sense of smelling, i should find her one  .. i was like what the hell its still dark then i thought well maybe a change in plan .. the doctor wanna do my operation now .. COOL .. only not .. i was playing along (no tease playing goingwith their flow you sick people ) so i was wearing the half naked thingy and a head cap, and it was like cold air, coming from every where by 4:15 i was ready .. im still like green nurses will walk in any minute .. cant wait to go to the big lights room.. and then

i asked innocently, when is my operation .. then the old bitch yelled its nottt nowwww its on 11:00 .. again WTF ..  i was like why are you yelling .. she slammed the door .. was she able to hear me talking to my self .. or was she really really frustrated coz i already shaved my under arms and other places where the sun dont shine at home .. couldn’t really tell .. ooookay .. i was instructed not to eat any thing after saturday midnight .. i was friggin starving i eat my nails my mom saw me she thought i was nervous .. :S so i started eating my lips one hot russian nurse thought i was making a move .. where is she by the way .. i’ll go look her up .. back she got transferred (Bummer!!) .. any waysss .. i was escorted to the OR by a pregnant nurse .. her tummy was huge i thought she gonna give birth on the way to BIG ROOM .. i told her if you give birth right now we’ll be OR mates .. call your son NOTHAPPY because he is born in this hospital and when he grow up no will bitch about him being a grumpy old man ..  i was making jokes, all the way, silly ones of course .. she was laughing so hard she wet her self .. DAM .. then waited like 10 minutes then the old indian bitch showed up .. she was pushing the stretcher so fast i had to get up and act as if we were racing .. a lill guy half naked covered all green racing down the corridors in RAZI hospital .. my mom was half crying half laughing ..

in the OR room .. i was like dam its cold in here “people get me some blanket im half naked” .. then my doctor said its not .. you are naked .. mashalla he is smart, i just said that .. some nurse wannabe computer geek .. common you are an IT guy server rooms are always cold, i screamed at him “WALLA IL3ATHEEEEEEEM, i wanna see you naked in our servers room” ..to shut me up they masked me i asked for the time they were shutting me up, i saw it on the wall, i asked them to play some rap music i never got the answer .. i asked my anesthetic doctor .. can i have some for later use .. he gave me that cold look .. NO! .. then i yelled you people don’t know how to have fun .. got sedated .. walked in around 12:30 (i was half naked since 4:15 am) got out at 14:30 .. all of a sudden i woke up in the awakening zone and a nurse was just pulling my stretcher there .. i said hey take me to my room, i was thinking cheap tranquilizers .. i was yelling Doc.. that syrup sucks i dont even have a hang over .. i take it back i dont want it .. then i was in my room around 3 .. folks coming in and out i dont know who visited me who didnt .. i remember burhan salah turki and thats it .. my mom said your brothers were here :S oh really “salmy 3leehom” .. got fully generated by like 6 pm .. andthen went back to sleep

day 3 leaving hell:

its 1 am got online no one was there … took my medication ate like a horse .. their food sucks .. then slept and just woke up its 6 am now .. i’m in my room a male nurse just walked in ..  he wants to see the screws :S .. FUCK OFF im trying to get some sleep (liar) .. ass hole ..  ..(BOWING) thank you thank you every one .. yea i know thank you .. i made it .. oh oh let me check if they got any else other than the screws .. no they are there .. oh oh my grandma got her kidneys stolen let me check on mine .. hefhefhefhefhef they are their no scars

the old indian bitch came again i gave her the look (beat it BITCH!) hehehe and she left she can hear me talking to my self  .. another fat kind philipino nurse .. she dont know how to use the glocometer :S  .. im in hell .. i taught her how, she was touching me and mom was @@| .. relax mom im not marrying her .. doctor dropped by minute ago he is gonna discharge me in  few minutes .. so i walked out pissed at the slow fuck he told e its gonna take 3 working days for paper to go from different department to another in the same building to sign my sick leave .. the only thingcheered me up was the fat kind philipino nurse .. she was waving bye bye habeeebi and i was like .. lose some weight and i’ll consider youooooo, bye bye wa a7amatu allah wa baraktu

HeQ HeQ HeQ XD

BUWAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA .. i can’t stop laughing MUWAHAHAHAAHAHA .. no comment .. just watch the hehehehe .. just watch the old man in the middle keep loooooool keep an eye on him

im still laughing HeQ HeQ HeQ .. he’s killing the comedian’s show .. HeQ HeQ HeQ