Getting charged (HIGH FIVE!) for my new battery, and the organization of NESTO 10/16/2014

So the time had come.  On Tuesday night, Jaffar, our school "everything guy" swung by to see how the water was doing.

It was wet, so off to a good start.

They fixed it with a band-aid, but by tomorrow it'll be back to a drip...but that is too far into the future, because tonight he is going to swing me by...um...the shop didn't have a name...just a big Castrol Motor Oil sign and something that resembled fire damage.  So we will call it Oil Fire's "Garage."  We are going here because my car has a dead battery and is resisting all attempts to revive it for more than one trip.

He drove me to this place and we speak to the desk guy.  Indian, and has the look of someone who just found their sucker in the form of a white guy wearing flip flops....

Which white person wearing flops do I mean?

Sup?  Need a timing belt that is hung at eye level if you're 6'1"?

But Jaffar worked him over and we ended up striking a deal for a new battery for my dead Deathtrap-Mobile, (DTM).  It started at 37 BD with a 6 month warranty, and after a series of whistles and finger waves, Jaffar got  it down to 33 BD with a 12 month.

Not bad.

I just stood there and looked pretty.

Much like Randy in Christmas Story, it was my only defense.

Don't mind the white guy not speaking Arabic...he is just part of the scenery...

So they shake on it and as we leave Jaffar turns and says, "Do not forget his face now - he will be here tomorrow and you give him the deal"

Sheesh.  Thanks, MOM!

Off we go and Jaffar points out a few places in the Riffa souk I should check out: a restaurant here, a tailor there, a market over yonder, etc.  He also tells me about how funny he thinks it is that expats think it is dangerous, or they are afraid to visit the local areas.  

He isn't wrong, we live in a gated community and all are neighbors.  We tend to live sheltered middle eastern lives.  Which is fine, get in, make that cheddar, and get out.  But I am so tired of going to the same hypermarkets and seeing the same imported nonsense.  My goal during this past Eid holiday was to get to one of these local spots and check it out, but DTM had other ideas and nearly killed me once and left me stranded another day.

But now was go time!

The next day comes and I get my friend to come over at 3:30 to jump my car right after work.  So at 4:15 I ask where he is - hey, we all forget things - and from the time he pulls in it takes about 30 seconds to get the DTM running.  And oh baby, does this thing purr.

It purrs like a cat with a lifetime 2-pack a day Marlboro Red smoking habit.

Seriously, doesn't he know those are bad for him?

But it runs.  I tell my friend that if I am not back in about 3 hours to come looking for me - I do this because my phone isn't working outside of WiFi.  It is a pre-pay phone and it  just decided to run out of juice about 6 hours before I left.

Adorable.

But I head to the shop along what they call the Riffa souk.  Here, have a look...at a souk:

Portabello Road...Portabello Road...street where the riches of ages are stowed....

That is the street vendor area view, now where I was getting my work done wasn't so extravagant as all that, it was more the auto/mosque part of the souk.

But something was wrong.

I did feel a little out of place, like something was missing as I drove towards the heart of the Riffa souk...and then this happened, and all was right again:

 Now look at the Toyota F1 on the right...that guy is backing into traffic.  I followed the front of his car for a block until he veered off the road again.  I love this place.

That was what I was missing!  The batshit crazy driving!

Ahh, there's my fix.

So I approach the auto/mosque section, and - I know it is also the mosque section of the souk because when I pulled into the shop - which is over a curb and around half finished cars - I had to drive around a crowd of people praying.

I am courteous like that.

So I pull up over the curb, around the crowd, past a few half finished cars into the "garage."

Why did I put garage in quotes?

Oh.  Because this:

That is the "garage"

The "garage" is really an open spot in front of the Castrol Motor Oil and some apparent fire damage we named: Oil Fire's "Garage" earlier.  This shot is after it cleared out some.  The praying is going on right on the other side of the car on the right in the lot out front of the small mosque.  I am still uncertain as to how tolerant locals are of the white guy in flip flops snapping pictures, so I avoid the religious stuff and also end up with gems like this one:

Oil Fire's "Garage"

I could say I used a filter on that, but I don't think there is a filter entitled "blurry as hell" just yet.  

So I pull around, over and in.  The guy recognizes me - as he admitted to me because "You're very white, you know?  I won't forget you.  We don't get white like you, you know?"  I thank him for having such a good memory and remind him the battery size and they pull my car into the....

Hahaha no no.  They just fix the DTM right there on the curb.  They were changing oil on a Nissan Pajero, realigning the front end of a Honda Accord and changing the tire on a flat bed truck, all on the curb.  That is how you do it!  No pesky bays or...like...tools...

DTM getting its worked on...um...on....

Sometimes it is the subtle things - the things people miss that make all the difference.  I know the DTM is a pain in the ass, I know it, but sometimes it is good to know that it doesn't make things difficult just for me...it does this to everyone.  Exhibit A:

How many mechanics does it take to change a battery?

It took TWO mechanics way too long to change the battery, because DTM wasn't giving up its dead acid box without a fight.  Made me feel good that it took two people, and quite a bit of shouting, to get the battery changed.

It didn't just hate me.  It hated everyone equally.

I respect that.

I got the thumbs up - it was done!  The DTM was road worthy(ish) again!

Now...on to the most Bahrain pastime of them all...negotiations.

Meet the victim:

                                                               - Male

                                                               - Approximately 31 years old

                                                               - Height - 5'9"

                                                               - Weight - 160 lbs

                                                               - Hair - Brown

                                                               - Eyes - Brown

                                                               - Occupation - Owns Oil Fire's "Garage"

                                                               - Status - about to get owned

Now, I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I am actually a pretty shrewd negotiator.

Toot.

Toot.

Now, you'll remember that Jaffar negotiated for me from 37 down to 33 dinars, but check out my skills...

**WARNING** 

YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ ADVANCED TECHNIQUES. 

**DO NOT ATTEMPT** 

UNLESS YOU ARE  SKILLED IN NEGOTIATIONS AND MIND-CONTROL TACTICS!

Me: Looks like they're done.

Zing!  Always start with a zinger!

Victim: Yes sir.  You can pay now.

A retort!  Snappy as well, I see he is also skilled in the art of the negotiation.

Me: Okay, we talked yesterday - still a deal?

Ha!  Check!  Good luck, buddy.  I own you.

Victim: Yes sir, 32 dinars.

Nice try!  Your powers are weak!

Me: I thought it was 33?

Oh I SO have him on the ropes right now!

Victim: It says 32 here, sir.

He tries one last tactic, but it won't work!

Me: Really?

I AM RELENTLESS!

Victim: Yes sir.

Yes!  He caved in to my amazing powers!

Me: Awesome.

OH BURNNNNNNN!

Sometimes I feel bad about doing this to people.  I know they have families and mouths to feed, but this killer instinct just swells up inside me and I can't hold back.  I just hope he recovered and managed to get some sleep.  No doubt took the day off to get his confidence back.

Poor guy never saw it coming.

So off I roll in DTM with an extra BD in my pocket.  On the way out I pass a local market, and since I was pleased with my mastery of that last situation I decided to skip the hypermarket and shop local.

Everyone, meet NESTO.

The deals are so good the store is blurry!

I forget that I write these blogs and often have to swing back around to get pictures of things.  So, ya know, there's that lame excuse for the quality.

NESTO has everything I need.  The prices were fair, the people were helpful, although I don't expect they get too many pigmentally challenged people such as myself judging by the looks and shoulder nudges, but they were helpful and the place was everything it could have been.  One thing I have discovered here, even at the hypermarket level, is the originality of organization.  When I first got to Bahrain, it kind of looked like they just put stuff up wherever they felt like. Now, I have no problem asking why the garbage bags were in the deodorant aisle, or why the dates I bought came from the same place I got my silverware, but it is still a good time to see what you find where.  But I am lately noticing a creativity, an originality some would say, in the organization now.

Like this next photo, for instance. If you wanted to cook some noodles, what do you need?

This is next level stuff right here.

That's right.  A pot.  Well - here they are way ahead of you!  If you approach this from the right, you say "Hey!  I could use a pot!" and you pick one up.  And then the FIRST thing you see is noodles...FOR YOUR NEW POT!

Approach from the left?  "Hey!  I could use some noodles!" and you pick some up.  And then the FIRST thing you see is a pot...FOR YOUR NEW NOODLES!

Clever.  I love it.

So if you're ever in Bahrain don't be shy - get out there.  People like victim and NESTO are friendly and happy to help however they can.

And just for a laugh, drive there backwards.

I am here to write blogs and chew bubblegum 10/15/14

And I am all out of bubblegum.

To start, if you don't know this classic moment in film history, click on the caption below the picture of awesome and please educate yourself here:

CLICK ME CLICK ME CLICK ME FOR AWESOME

Yes that is Rowdy Roddy Piper.  And why yes, that is an American flag.  Oh, and I see you noticed the tight jeans and plaid shirt oh-so seductively unbuttoned to the over-sized for the ammo gun belt.

You're hooked.  Actually that scene is pretty much it from They Live that is worth watching twice. The rest of it, only once.

It is like Mount Everest - it was climbed because it was there.  Yes, some will climb it twice, but only the mentally unstable.

Same deal with this movie.  Watch it once because someone took an afternoon off and made it - because it is there.

I would stumble up on classic movies like this occasionally when I used to have Comcast and all those channels to choose from.  I don't have cable here in Bahrain for a few reasons.  Yes, it is expensive here - but it is less expensive than the US cable prices.  I think my last Comcast bill was for 3 pints of blood and a virgin sacrifice.

GOOD ONE COMCAST WHERE AM I GOING TO FIND A VIRGIN IN 2014 HUH!?

Oh.  Hey.

Very funny, Comcast.

Jesus, why didn't anyone tell me my face was so big?  My poor glasses.

By the way I had this photo taken in a pharmacy back in the USA.  They just pull down a screen right there in the aisle.  What you can't see and got cropped out was the little old lady in the motorized wheelchair who stopped right in front of me to ask the girl taking the pictures some questions about batteries.

I miss her.

Where was I?  Oh right - cable.

When I had cable I would find myself with a strange need to watch the Transsexual Nazi Eskimo Gold Rush Pawn Shop marathon all day.  Forget about mowing the lawn or work or firing any neurons.  Cable had a hearty hold on me.  2000 channels and nothing to watch.

The grocery syndrome.

You've just gone shopping, spent double what you'd planned and drove home.  You unload the bags and methodically put things away.  You sigh in satisfaction and then open the fridge and there ain't shit to eat.

So one day I decided I was over it, (this is BEFORE Netflix, people!  BEFORE!) and I canceled it. Ha!  Take that TV!  You won't have an iron grip on me anymore.  I am done with this abusive relationship where you take and take and oh is that the new PlayStation 3?

Shit.

Okay, but after I beat these three games I am done with you!  Okay, I mean 30.

Fine.  All of them.

I am going to be that arrogant No-TV guy you meet at parties!  Just like how Vegetarians, (also vegans, atheists and people with kids) who won't shut the fuck up about it at a party.  Here is a standard interaction:

Me: "Hey!  How have you been?"

Veg Head: "Good!  I stopped eating meat and feel really good!"

Me: "Glad you feel good!  Where are you working now?"

Veg Head: "You see, the chemicals they put in the meat can make you feel groggy so when I stopped I just felt so much better!"

Me: "Right on.  So I heard you got ma..."

Veg Head: "And think of those poor animals!  They are..."

Me:

Kiss my shiny, metal bullets!

So now I could tell everyone I meet how I don't even own a TV.  I can listen to them talk about their family or cars or how I need to stop all garbage mashers on the detention level, and I will just go on and on and on and on about how full my life it without the boob tube.

Hahahahahaha jkjkjkjkjkjk.

About that time Netflix came out and for 8 bucks a month I could do the same thing!  I can now binge watch "Hillbilly Blood" or catch the whimsical steaming pile of shit that is "2 Broke Girls"

What cured me of this demon addiction to watching shows over and over?  What was the solution to my problem of plopping down on the couch and watching LOST until it was nearly time to go to work again?

It was actually doing just that...watching LOST.

That show, 120 episodes, I watched like a madman.  I finally watched it about 2 years after it went off the air, because by then people had shut up about it so I could enjoy it.  That thing wore me out.

Now I may tune into Netflix once or twice a month to watch a few shows or catch some comedy, but I mostly stick to shows I download.

The way I figure it, if I want to see it bad enough to download, then I should be watching it.  If I tell you this at a party, I am not saying I am better than you....

Morgan Freeman!  So rude! But seriously...

In keeping at least some parts of this blog about the fact that I live on a spit of sand in the Arabian Gulf, I will point out that internet speeds here are great, and the price is maybe 40 percent lower than I paid in the USA.  I can rip a movie in about an hour or less, but I usually put a handful up and head to work.

What about internet restrictions?  Hey now, that is why they invented the VPN.  The government here did their job and blocked sites that are offensive to the religion, but after that their hands are kept plenty busy with other things.

Like the story goes: Bahrain is called the Pearl Island because they once discovered a pearl so large and so bright that it blinded even Allah from witnessing the great sin of drinking and partying the Saudi's do here every weekend.

It is also nice because I can watch porn.

I said I CAN watch porn...not that I DO watch it.  Sheesh.  Judgey McJudgerson over here...

Life, the Universe, and Everything...including bathing in my sink 10/14/2014

Sometimes you take a bath in your sink.  Sometimes you do it for 3 days in a row.  Sometimes you do it in freezing cold water because your water heater is broken.  Sometimes you do it because water pours from your faucets, taps, and shower heads with the same strength and determination of a baby giraffe asked to do calculus.

So I can't eat it?  Then no.  No I don't want an "integral"

Oh me?  Why it just so happens I am referring to my current desert predicament.  While drinking the water here is tantamount to punching your internal organs with a chainsaw, still having running water is considered useful in many cultures.

Like mine.  My culture really likes running water.

Now saying my water doesn't run would be a bit of a falsehood.  Water does come out.  I would have better luck filling a glass with the dehydrated tears of a crying child than my faucet, but it does in fact make water drip.

So this means I can't water my plants.

Big Deal!?

So now my lawn will burn up a little.

So what!?

So now when I want to take a shower I have to fill up two cups overnight and use soap and my sink to take a whore's bath.

Who car...wait what?

So I have to walk to work every time I need to use the bathroom as I am not entirely certain my toilets will refill again.

No go back to the whore's bath thing for a sec...

That's right everyone.  A whore's bath.  Now, we have all done this before since we are all whores to some extent.  Just because you do it or have done it doesn't make you a whore, it just makes it funny it is called a whore's bath and you've taken one.

JUST MAKE SURE YOU WASH THE P'S EVERYONE!  

 THE PITS AND THE P****

(insert gender correct term there)

I can't make this shit up, because someone already did.

Anyway, now that I have dropped knowledge on you I will go on with my tale of woe and WHOA THAT IS COLD.

I take two large cups and put one under the kitchen faucet and one under the tap in my bathroom.  Come morning I have two full cups.

I told you it was a raging flow of water.

The issue is that the water is cold.  I would use the popular colloquialism "cold as balls" but I think the irony would be too much to bear.

SHUT UP, IRONY BEAR!

Okay, no water.  I have the bottled stuff so that isn't so bad.  And if I really have to "go" the walk to work is pretty quick.  I quit drinking for a while so that wouldn't be an issue.  Hell, I even stopped eating.

Not like it was my choice.  I AM BANKRUPT!  2 BD TO MY NAME!

You see, in America there is this bank...let's call them BB&T to protect the innocent.  I have banked with them for my whole life - nearly **coughcough**18**coughcough** years.  They have been fairly consistent in that I don't bother them, and they rarely bother me.  However, this time they really went for it.  On Friday morning they decided to lock my account.  They didn't tell me, just said "aw fuck it" and clicked the lock button.  Why you ask?  THAT IS A GREAT QUESTION!

Let me log into my account and...

let me log in and...

Dafuq?

But have no fear!  They leave a phone number so I can call them....

I think maybe you see the issue now.

I can't call them.  In fact, when I sent a desperate plea for some help because I can't call them, they responded by giving me a phone number to call.

Buy a calling card!  Yes!  Of course!  I will just go and...and...well nuts.  Those cost money.

Call from work!  Yes!  Oh..you can't?  I guess that makes sense.

Finally it occurs to me...

SKYPE!

YES!  You can call any 800 number in the world with Skype!  I am so in!  Oh...it is a 443 number?

Oh.  Well shit.

So I finally find a way to call.  It is Saturday here, I haven't gone to the food store in a day but have some rations.  Of course, it is closed on a Saturday.  I mean, sure they locked the account right before they locked the doors.  I tried again Sunday, and same result.

But Monday!  Yeah Monday is a bank holiday.  Columbus Day.

NO, IT WAS TONY THE TIGER.

Seriously?  Is that still a thing?  I thought we were done with Columbus!?  We know he wasn't really trying to go to India.  We know he landed in the West Indies, and we know in general he was a pain in the ass and a liar.  Isn't this over?  The damn vikings "discovered" the inhabited land of North America around the end of the first millennium.  It isn't an uncommon thing to know all of this now.

Look Olaf!  Is that New York?  Let us turn around and go back to Canada...they're friendlier there.

And now this long dead D-Bag is closing my bank on Monday, too!?  I am so over you, Chris.

You know what?  I tried to walk to the library bathroom and got lost and ended up in IT with three Filipino guys working in there so do I own that place now!?

Wait, do I?  I could use some help with this Adobe Update...

So I haven't had a real meal in a while - save the little Tupperware thing of pasta and a sausage the nicest family in the world gave me on Sunday afternoon.  This morning I had a spoonful of peanut butter on half of an enchilada tortilla.  Last night for dinner was a can of dry tuna on half an enchilada tortilla and some crackers brought by the nicest family ever.

I knew I was dependent on my bank card - but this is ridiculous!  And I think my favorite part is the day they locked my account was the day my local bank card arrived.  I found out - you know, since they locked it and then rolled out for the long weekend without notifying a brotha - when I went to transfer funds into the account so I didn't have to pay the outrageous fees every time I used my card here.

Even dogs know it is all about timing.  AND EATING FIRE RAWRRRRR!

So here I sit with a non-working American Card full of money I can't use and a working local card with no money I can use.  My plants and lawn are dying, and I have to wash my self in a sink and I am close to eating sweet relish with a spoon.

I will try again tonight, and I was just assured for the third day in a row my water would be working by the days end.  I am a hungry and smelly little whiner right now.

So no, I am honestly not that upset about it anymore.  This layer of filth I am accumulating actually makes me look like I have a tan so I am in no hurry to step back into the shower again to be pale.

I always keep a tauntaun handy just in case I feel an ice tan coming on.

My day off, and other stories of rage 10/12/2014

I love the feeling of ease and comfort knowing you have a whole day and no real plans.  Ahhhh.  You wake up and don't get out of bed right away.  Sometimes you actually smile as you stare up at the ceiling.  You don't look at the clock as you shuffle to the bathroom and you don't shave your (insert body part here) when you shower.

"You know what?" I thought in a chill manner to myself, "I may not even shower today!"

The thought of it!  Then as I walked outside and the Sun punched me in the face I realized maybe since I am covered in perma-sweat here in this desert world of Bahrain, I should wash up some.

"Forget about the curve ball, Ricky.  Give him the heater."

So I clean up and make my way down stairs to a bowl of sugary delicious children's cereal.  May have been a bowl and a half because I purposefully misjudged the cereal-milk ratio to provide such an opportunity for myself.  I am such a rapscallion!

I open up my computer and see that a few downloads have finished.  A game about tanks?  Yes please!

My day is just packed!

I hear ya, Bill.  I hear ya.

But, I need to feel like I have accomplished something during the day, so I resolve to go shopping for some food.  Why not?  I need mixers for my liquor anyway.  I guess I could get food also.

Off I go to find pants of some kind and my keys.  Into the deathtrap-mobile I go and turn the key to hear it turn over and sta...

Wait...

*click*click*

Nothing.  Car is completely dead, this battery is so dead even the "HOLY SHIT YOUR DOOR IS OPEN I'M GOING TO FREAK OUT!" bell wasn't going off.  Okay, sucks but okay.  I have jumper/booster cables so I can figure this out.  I contact a friend - seriously one of the nicest people I have ever met in my entire life...and his wife and 2 kids are just as awesome - and he says I can use his little roller-skate car to try to jump mine.

I walk over - it is maybe a 2 minute walk - so I am soaked by the time I get there for the keys.  I take the roller-skate back to my deathtrap-mobile, (DTM) and hook 'er up.  I have jumped more cars than Eval Knieval.  I have boosted more cars than Nicolas Cage in Gone in 60 Seconds.  This will work.

This did not work.

Maybe it's just flooded?

It would crank over once, sometimes twice, but it didn't have the juice.  Maybe some RPM's from the roller-skate would do it?  I could ask for a hand.  Easy.

But, being an idiot I try to do everything myself, so I grab a stick from the house and position it in such a way that it presses on the roller-skate's pedal for some RPM's.  Better, but still not enough pep in that step.

Well, I know what to do when you try and fail...

I was so angry I would have tackled a horse.

Seriously, I had had a beat-down style week.  Yeah, Taco Tuwednesday was a hit and I did drink a lot, but little by little things added up and after just spending all of that money on the deathtrap-mobile, (DTM) this was not okay for me.

It isn't like I can pop over to Autozone and get a new one or call AAA.  This would be a severe pain, and things like car batteries cost a lot of money here.  And if it failed once, we all know it will fail again.

So, much like an adult I did what any adult would do at a time to really show what you're made of...

I went into my house and calmly explained to the empty space around me: "I WILL BEAT A MOTHERFUCKER WITH ANOTHER MOTHERFUCKER!"

Then I Googled it.  Because,well, Google...

Everything exists on Google the second you think of it.

After emoting this feeling in what could only be described as a grown man-child who lost his favorite rattle, I was having I decided I wouldn't get mad about this.  That just wouldn't do.  I would have to get way more than mad.  I would have to get the kind of mad you only see on cartoons like Dragonball Z...

Let's face it - most people had lives and friends in college and don't know what that is.  I may have been studying thermodynamics with a bottle of Jack and som cartoons.

Allow me to illuminate...

I was seriously waaaaay over 9000...I was THAT mad.

I was just about broken.  I had had enough.  The constant fails through the week and the consistent nagging problems I have been dealing with all finally brought me down.  This car battery was the last straw.  That's how badly this sucked.

Straw...sucks...see?  It's a joke because...oh never mind...

How angry was I?

I was miffed.  I was a bit taken aback, I guess you'd say.  You wouldn't want to say anything, I was too busy keeping it not only not together, but letting it spread so far out light itself couldn't keep up with the expansion.  It was going hyperlightspeed.

It was soon after that a clock fell off the wall.  Just fell and exploded on impact.  I was sitting on my couch and down it came across the room.  Shattered everywhere.

I left that son of a bitch right where it fell.  Still there now.  May still be there tomorrow.

Zero fucks given about that clock right now.

But I will get some food.  Eating always makes me feel better, so I will take the bike to the nearby Alosra Market.

About halfway to the store the back tire went flat.  Nail.  I peddled it anyway.  Feeling every stone pummel my ass.  Yeah, I don't even care that my ass was being pummeled.  Have at it.  Pummel me, baby.

I had food at least.  Sure while I was gone another piece of wall decor had fallen and shattered on the ground - I learned only later it was because the AC in my house had broken again - but I was so angry I don't know if I could have gotten any more so.  I thought I was so hot because I was upset. Turns out it was just my AC breaking in the desert for the 4th time in two months.

SCREW IT I AM MOVING TO ALASKA!  IT IS COLD AND THERE ARE NO FLAT BIKE TIRES BECAUSE NO ON RIDES BIKES THERE.  I will get some dogs and a sled and and and...

Well...shit.

I know me.  I know I can fix all of this.  I have had days like this more than I should like to admit. However, there is about a 12-16 hour period where I need to blow off steam.  It was already about 6 pm.  Just had to make it another 4 hours and I could sleep.

What are the odds that everyone back home would pick that 4 hour window to say hello?

OF COURSE IT IS 100%.

9 people decided to try to contact me in less than 90 minutes.  7 of them I had not heard from in weeks - some in months.  They just all cosmically agreed now was the right time to say hello.  There are a couple people I talk to on a daily basis, those I let filter through because we are a bit closer.  The rest can just hold their horses.

Please, I know I am very lucky to have people in my life who care about me.  It is just at this point they were all very talkative.  Somehow my phone went on silent and the rum almost poured itself.  I didn't care how bad it tasted.

I'll have two.

After finally deciding to respond to everyone so they didn't think I was dead again I asked they please just catch up with me tomorrow after the window of destruction has closed and I get started on the busy task of getting it all back together.

I know it will be okay and I am very lucky to have people "around" who care about me.  I have spent a lot of time convincing people I am bad news and they should stay away, because I really am a handful and I like being alone maybe a little too much - but a very stubborn few have stayed with me.

But on a bright note, I finally got the online World of Tanks game downloaded.  I think tonight I will sit down and just zone out and play a few rounds.  What is the worst that can happen?

OH, SON OF A BITCH!

The Moonheart Duo and Scottish male prostitutes play "Where's Wally" 10/11/2014

I want to start your blog-reading experience with something truly amazing.

Something truly artistic.

Something, I feel, that should be shared with the world one buffet at a time.  No, it isn't food 
and you can't really eat it, but it will fill your soul with the nourishing satisfaction of glory.

By now I am sure you have guessed, I am referring to the Kazakhstani sensation LIVE and
in person...


The Moonheart Duo!

Don't be fooled, they are from "Very near to China"

During the Eid break, a friend who also stayed behind had some visitors from Kuwait.  All very cool people and I enjoyed meeting them very much.  But what can you do with someone who lives in a dry country with very strict rules when they come to Bahrain?

Damn right we took them to an all you can eat and drink high class Caribbean brunch at the Dragon Hotel.

The drinks flowed from noon to 5 PM, at which point the staff in the main office thought it would be best to cause a scene and almost ensure we would not be back.  Their mistake cost us an hour of our time and money we shouldn't have had to spend.  However, they highly underestimated the volume capable of being reached by my female companions.

White girls got loud as fuck! 

But it is only money, after all.  I won't miss the food and I certainly won't miss the "Bacardi" and coke or the fact that "unlimited drinks til 5" means they stop at 4:30.  I won't miss the attitude when they made a drink of liquor and tap water and tried to claim it was a rum and soda.  

No thanks - I don't believe you.  A shot of tequila usually doesn't come in a Bud Light bottle.

Nah, I can live without that.  But I would certainly miss the Moonheart Duo!  I don't know if I got more drunk or the sweet Casio backbeats got better as time went on, but I really enjoyed them.

At one point I was listening a duo from Kazakhstan play this:

THE MOONHEART DUO COMPLILATION PARTY MIX

I highly recommend just listening to a moment or two in about 45 second to a minute intervals just to get the full effect...

So here I am.  A band from here:

Who look like this:

Playing a song written by this guy:

While I look out the window and snap this photo:

And as a large fan of randomness I couldn't be happier about all of that.

As I said it is a real shame the hotel front desk staff ruined what was a fairly solid outing.  
I  do believe it was a simple fact that we told someone who did understand, and that 
person had to tell another person in another language who didn't understand, and that person
had to tell another person in another language, and that is what caused it all.  But let's agree 
the hotel staff's solution of extorting cash from us before they would let us leave was a bit 
heavy handed.

Enough of that.  So where does one go after such an adventure?  We all agreed we would go 
to Ric's Kountry Kitchen so we naturally went to Dublins because I was with a few single
women and the US Navy turns out some fairly attractive young men that just so happened to 
be going to Dublin's as well.

Now, there is almost no way to top the Moonheart Duo.  There simply isn't enough...

holy shit...

Did you say a Where's Waldo, (apparently in the UK it is Where's Wally...weirdos) themed
DJ/Band dance party at Dublin's?

The place was overly decorated with these:

And the Filipino female staff was wearing these:

While the US Navy decided to play this:

I didn't even stay late enough for DJ Tunesz, (the UK's HOTTEST DJ sensation! Ahem...playing in Bahrain...) but I saw plenty.

Okay Dublin's, fine.  You win. 

Oh, there's more awesome you have to offer?

Oh yes, of course.  The male prostitute...

So I go to the restroom.  My phone had died hours ago and my pockets are about empty.  I will stay for one more and creep on home to finish my alcoholism at a lower price.  I use the restroom and out I come...what what do I see?

You guessed it:

I see this charming young man from Edinburgh unbuttoning my friend Austin's shirt on my right. On my left I see the recently passed-out-on-a-bar-table-and-so-hammered-he-can-barely-stand boyfriend (?) of the Edinburgh charmer trying to get his shirt buttoned back up by my friend Harmony...and in the middle of all of this there are about 3 older, weathered and very Irish men waiting for drinks while smoking, and completely ignoring this sudden insanity.

Kids today are spoiled I tell ya.  I had to unbutton my shirt with a potato.

I don't really know what else to say.  It degraded quickly as you could have probably guessed.

I think the point where Edinbugh was dipping his fingers in ketchup and flicking it at everyone
while laughing so hard he  was wheezing may have been the last straw. 

It could have been that.  Or when he loudly exclaimed he could suck D's better than some 
of my friends...and was willing to prove it at a lower price than they would apparently charge.

So that was my Friday in Bahrain.  One last hurrah before it is back to the grind of work - but thank goodness as I am not certain my liver could take much more brunching.

Bahrain Brunch: Come for the food and drinks.  And stay for the weird-ass shit that happens to you afterward.

Taco Tuwednesday and the dangers of toy airplanes 10/9/2014

Being an American from America there are a few things I have been lucky enough to grow up knowing.

The first is the value and precious nature of freedom.  The ability to do and say what you feel and to have it all meticulously transcribed by the government for use at a later date.

The second is one of the most important thing I suppose a human can know - something that makes life worth living.  

Something magical.

Something special.

Mom?  Yeah.  I got the job.  I know!  Yeah I will probably commit suicide in two weeks.  Free shirt, though.

This something is one of the keys to existence.  It is the the science of happiness.  The rule of joy.  The top item on the shopping list of satisfaction....deep frying the shit out of stuff.

Oh hey, you like that oreo?  SKABAM NOW IT IS BETTER.

Butter?  I guess I can do something with thSKABAM NOW IT IS BETTER.

DEEP FRY MY COFFIN AS WELL PLEASE. BECAUSE SKABAM THAT MAKES IT BETTER.

I am not saying that deep fried things are better than freedom, I am simply saying the freedom to deep fry things is better than everything else ever.

Look around you.  Go on - look.  See that thing that just caught your eye?  Heat oil to 375F and bread that bastard and throw it in there for a few minutes until golden brown.  I don't care what the object is, it is better with a hearty coating of bread crumbs and oil.  That is nature.  

That is fact.

**disclaimer** if what you saw was your kid or another human, don't deep fry that.  It isn't as tasty as you'd think and it isn't worth the paperwork.

I know we are opening up McDonald's all over the world, here in Bahrain they deliver, (1722-1722...the first number I memorized here.  No, YOU'RE a fat kid.) but if we are to truly spread the wings of freedom over this land we need to have less stores that serve boring things like McFalafel, and more stores that serve this:

Which food group is represented here? The delicious one.

So here I am in Bahrain, The small island nation in the Arabian Gulf where there is some unrest and protest.  Overall it is a very happy place, but there is some turmoil that manifests in scheduled protests and small tire fires. 

Seems like the perfect place to test my theory.  I will start small and slowly expand.  Do not want to spread peace too quickly, so I have to make sure my theory is sound.  In order to begin Operation DTF, (Down To Fry, you perv) I decided I would try it on my coworkers first.

Now, what to use as bait, I wondered.  It was a Tuesday, so the first thing in my head was: "TACOS!"

To be fair that is usually in the top 5 of things that pop into my head anyway, but this made more sense than it usually did.  It was settled.

Taco Tuesday.

My place.

On Wednesday.

Shit.  

Oh well, close enough.

I didn't let on the tacos I would be serving would be open-mouth kissed by the glory of hot oil.  As far as they knew it was just some flour and meat-gredients wrapped up and slapped on a plate.  I was so DTF I couldn't wait to get everyone over to show them just how DTF I really was.  You start with a little prep work...

The trick is not to have sex with them.  Yet...

Some chicken and some beef.  This would satisfy most palettes.  If it didn't, surely the next ingredient would.  The one Great Unifier.  The greatest hero in all kitchendom.  The One Ingredient to rule them all...

My Preciousssssssss.....

HOT OIL YA'LL!

Taco Tuwednesday was a hit!  Little did people know I was running scientific research on them - the tacos tickled the tastes too terrifically!  All alliteration aside, everything went really well.  I had brought peace to a kitchen in Riffa, Bahrain.  Where would I attempt to bring my peace next?  Who else would appreciate how DTF I am?

I am currently planning phase "Tue" of Operation DTF.  It may actually just be more Tacos next month or something.  I tend to have a poor follow-through with a lot of things.  That will give the stores time to replace their Asian Food Selection - which is where you find a majority of the Mexican food ingredients.

Shhhh..just....just let it go...

And here I am on the morning after.

Everyone went home full and happy.

I was happy that they were happy, and I strolled downstairs after regaining consciousness this morning, (thanks, tequila!) to start my day with a nice bowl of children's sugar cereal, try to think of something to write about.  Tacos?  Sure - I can fill up half a page with that.  But nothing really funny had happened to me - "what on Earth would I write about?" I thought to myself whlie STEPPING ON A DAMN TOY AIRPLANE.

No, Mr. E.  I expect you to DIE!

First of all, it is an awesome airplane.  I know that.  This is a lucky kid to have the joys of powered flight at his fingertips.

Hell, when I was his age we used to grab on to the nearest pterodactyl and fly uphill both ways to holy shit I just became my dad...

Anyway....yep.  Look at that devious little fucker.  Positioned perfectly to inflict damage...almost too well for a child.  Was it his parents?  This was not an attempt to kill me, it would have been on the stairs.

This was a warning.

This was a power play.

Perhaps my bid for peace had interrupted someone's plan for unrest?  Was there to be no peace here? Could my total DTF-ness not save the world?

I think I have some friends who are DTF and have something to say about that...