Category Archives: Humor

Open letter to @FluffyGuy before Dubai

Hola Gabriel! Cómo estás?!

Word around the web is you’re gracing the GCC with your presence for a “sold out” show in Dubai? I heard news of this last week, started looking into it this week with hopes I had a few weeks to think about it, and all of a sudden I find out it’s this Friday?! So I quickly threw together a plan with the wife and we’re hoping to fly out from Kuwait to Dubai to attend this show as there are only two people I’d traverse the airways for in Dubai, and you’re one of them!

I’ve been following your career (in a non-creepy way) from the days of Comedy Central Presents Gabriel Iglesias – which ended with you and your friend on a roller coaster that died mid swing.

From that moment onward it has been a roller coaster watching your career grow, from special to special, country to country, India, Saudi Arabia, Hawaii (to name a few).

You might get this a lot, but you’re the reason I started getting into stand-up comedy (lordaymz on Youtube) – your comedy can loosely be described as “family friendly” in that you don’t cuss, and you don’t go picking on the crowd. Your material are your stories, and they are plentiful and beautiful. By the end of the Fluffy movie, you had me in tickles and tears with the intertwining stories of your son, your mom (may she rest in peace) and your father.

Now the following weekend will be something new to me; paid for visas, bought the tickets for your show and are awaiting approval to book the flight tickets and hotel. Fly in Friday, Fly out Saturday. Just like Elvis. I would love the opportunity to meet with you, shake your hand, and tell you this in person, much like what you said here:

Will it happen? I guess we’ll wait and find out – fingers crossed!

Remember everyone, its Big, Chunky, Husky, Fluffy, DAMN!, OH HELL NO!

(Unless Gabriel found the holy grail level 7 of fatness)

The Lazy life of Kuwait – Bicycle Ordering

For those that have spent a wee bit of time in the desert state of Kuwait, you will find that most of the creature comforts we enjoy are brought upon as a result of the external environment in which we reside.

For example, the infamous baqala-drive-by, whereby we park our cars outside the baqala, honk twice or thrice, give our order to the shopkeeper, receive the items, pay, wait, receive change, then drive off into the (hopeful) sunset.

This phenomena is also replicated outside restaurants, with the same conditions.

Earlier this week however, I decided to upset the established order and do things differently.

I rode up to my preferred restaurant to cure my cravings for fatayer, initially I was ignored by the people taking orders, because as I said earlier, I rode up to them, not drove; as in on my bicycle, not in my car. The following conversation took place:

Me: I want to make an order.

Restaurant Dude: go inside.

Me: But I am on a bicycle.

Restaurant Dude: its ok, don’t worry.

Me: Excuse me, can you please treat me as if I am a car?! (verbatim translation of what I said in Arabic)

Restaurant Dude: *laughs* *takes order*

~~~~~~~~~~~

I took to the streets whilst waiting for the food to be made, upon my return, Restaurant Dude goes, “here you go, Mr. Car”.

I’d like to think I am about to set a trend for bicycle ordering.

Of course, I have nothing on these guys:

drive-thru-car

Shenanigans

Hero or Villain? Coporate A**holery – The Origin Story

Corporate a**holery, a term I coined last month in this post, is the act of being a corporate A**hole, or refusing to brush things off as a one time thing and insisting on getting your just comeuppance.

I tried to wonder when my path towards corporate a**holery began, what was my trigger event that set me upon the path of demanding I receive my rights as a consumer. I thought long and hard, and finally, in a whimsical moment, the answer was revealed to me.

Eureka

It all started in 2006, when a young me ventured towards the Vodafone branch in City Stars Mall, Cairo, Egypt. I was but a wee stud of 20, almost upon graduation from university, with a dream in my heart and hope in my eyes. I stopped by Vodafone to pick up a recharge card. As I was short of change, I paid the man a LE100 note for a LE50 recharge, expecting LE50 in change. The CSR, a woman, asked if I had change, which I did not. She then proceeded to ask her colleagues for assistance. A shady looking character, bedecked in their uniform, came forth and produced notes that seemed to have been wrestled by him from the nether regions of street mongrel.

Not being a stranger to living in Egypt, where shop keepers have the right to refuse acceptance of notes deemed unfit for human consumption, a right they enjoy exercising with reckless abandon, I refused to accept the tattered toilet paper and insisted on fresher currency. My CSR, the woman, again looked distraught, to which point the shady individual comes back and asks me what I purchased, I told him it was a LE50 card, he asks for it back, then gives me back my LE100.

My initial reaction was shock. I walked out of the branch, by the time I got to the first left turn something snapped within my mind, and a path appeared. This was my calling. I would become the corporate a**hole and standup for the little guys like myself who get shunned from purchases by annoyed CSRs.

I turned in my tracks and marched back into the branch, demanding that Shady (lets call him that) reveal himself to me, I took a look at his name tag, made a mental note, then dialed customer service to lodge my first (of many to follow) corporate complaint.

A hero was born…

images

Or was I a villain?

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You decide.

British Airways to add new service: Colon Cleansing

British Airways were quick to realize how costly a smelly poo was; as one of their flights was forced to divert from its original course in order to land due to ” liquid fecal excrement”, in the words of the pilot.

(link)

poo-pourri-gas-mask

“About 10 minutes later he said you may have noticed there’s a quite pungent smell coming from one of the toilets.

“He said it was liquid faecal excrement, those are the words he used. He said it’s not a technical fault with the plane, and he was very adamant about that.”

The captain informed passengers that the plane would be forced to return to London for health and safety reasons.

Passengers were initially told they would board another flight in three hours. But on arrival into Heathrow they learned it would be 15 hours before the next flight

I wonder who was responsible for the foul odor?

A 15-hour delay because of a rogue turd…

If you think about it; airlines can save tons on fuel charges if they had a facility (prior to boarding) that ensures that passengers are not carrying any “extra weight”… in their bowels.

Perhaps a discount on airfare should the passenger willingly opt for a “FREE” Colonoscopy?

That will take airport security to a whole new level.

Calling all Crazy Kuwaiti Cyclists/Runners!

Many a times whilst partaking in my favorite sports, cycling or running, down (or up) my favorite stretch of highway, the Gulf Road, I am plagued by the sight of canoodling couples down the beach front, in dark corners or out-of-sight spots, specifically near Corniche Club a.k.a lovers nest.

images

obviously not Kuwait but you get the picture

 

Whilst cycling, I tend to yell out the words “GOD IS WATCHING” followed by whatever expletive I so feel like saying at the time.

This phenomenon is detrimental to the sports enthusiasts of Kuwait, who feel so embarrassed to be in close proximity of such PDA that they give up their sport of choice altogether, opting instead to become couch potatoes who’s only exercise is lifting the remote up to level with their multiple chins and leaning forward to reach for that magically refilling bowl of Dorrito’s.

couch potato

I was not born yesterday; it is easy to guess where the majority of these couples come from; if I were to approach them myself and try to exert any form of reasoning/ authority, I would probably end up on the 12AM flight back home.

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Therefore I require the aid of a crazy local, to join me in patrolling the stretch of beach front property, and attempt to drive away the evil presence that is lovestruck fools, WHILST partaking in exercise, a win-win on every front!

I was thinking something along the lines of pretending to film such activity and threatening to post it online. Should things escalate and police be involved, the recording device would be proven to be blank, and no unwarranted video was made!

And that dear friends, is the kind of thought process that goes through the minds of runners whilst running solo, aided in part by the drug-like runners high.

running dog

Punishable by Deportation

The following offences have been deemed punishable by Deportation, in fair Verona, where we lay our scene:

in fair verona

1) Passing by a local Veronian and not offering praise and exaltation befitting of their generosity in allowing you onto their land.

How dare you? Kneel before Zod!

How dare you? Kneel before Zod!

2) Dilly-dallying in the streets and not having a clear and concise objective whilst outside your home.

You are a Visual Pollutant.


(watch at 0:27)

3) Eating in public. Any food, whether your own ethnic garbage or store brought. Eat in your own hole, vermin.

no eating

4) Sitting on the sidewalk.

Unless your kaboos is paying for the right to sit atop our holy ground, be on your way.

no sitting

5) Standing in public.

Crouch down and crawl with your belly to the ground like the snake that you are.

no standing

6) Driving your rickety old POS infront of a Veronian, effectively preventing them from reaching their destination on time by a crucial 3-4 seconds.

no driving

7) Talking in public, in your native tongue. Keep that devil speak for your country, swine.

no talking

8) Looking both ways before crossing the street. If a Veronian wants to run you over, it is their right. It is their country.

No-Jaywalking

9) NOT looking both ways before crossing the street.

How dare you tarnish the Veronians car (still on installments) with your filth?

animal crossing

10) Not smoking at the No Smoking areas. Buy a pack of cigarettes and puff like a madman to provide cover to Veronians smoking around you, take the fall for them. It is the reason why you are here.

yes smoking

 

And finally, any expat caught using the word “Deportation”,,, shall be deported.

Pay money to stop paying money… Just another Diatribe in Kuwait

Oftentimes we are presented with a series of events that leave us questioning our existence as a species – are we only here to scrape that last morsel of earning from one another?

A truly preposterous scenario recently unfolded before my eyes that cements that same exact sentiment, let us view it in chronological order in order to better highlight the humor in it:

1) 4 years ago I decided to buy a car. As we were taught in business school, never spend your own money. So despite having the ability to pay the full amount in cash, I opted to instead borrow money from the bank (my bank of choice: NBK) and have them finance it over 4 years. I am sorry, her. My car is a she. Her name is M’kia Spartan.

BEG

Not really her but a distant cousin

2) So of course, the bank is in the business of making money. For those that do not know, a bank is merely a meeting place for people with money and people without money. The bank takes your savings and pays you a meager interest, and lend your savings to others at a cost. The former interest is significantly smaller than the latter, generating a neat profit for the bank.

Anyhoo, I digress.

3) So the bank takes interest on the loan, in addition to charges you for paperwork here and there.

4) Fast forward to the current day, where the loan is finally repaid and you breathe a sigh of relief.

Capture

Hold that thought.

5) The vehicle’s registration still reads “Requested for Installments”. In a perfect scenario, you would walk up to the DMV with a copy of your online bank statement and show them that you have no more installments to pay. Right?

Right?

Capture

The bank is losing a steady stream of cash they have gotten used to from your pocket for the past few years.

In Arabic we have a saying: هو دخول الحمام زي خروجه؟ or “Hoa dekhoul el hamam zay kherougoo”?

Capture

Ask your Arabic friends to translate that for you.

So of course not! The bank must grab all it can from you.

6) So you are kindly requested to pay a fee of 5KD to print a paper which states that you were a good boy and paid off your loan in full (more on that adventure with NBK later).

7) You pay the fee, get the paper, renew your insurance and take your car to the DMV to get it renewed, and finally remove the “Requested for Installments” line from your registration.

Now, in a perfect society you would expect the ordeal to be over right? I paid the bank interest, I paid the bank processing fees, now please take these official signed documents and give me my renewed registration. Right?

Right?

Capture

8) Exactly! Did you think the DMV would just let it slide like that? Firstly, they need a day or so to verify the authenticity of this document you allege is relieving you of installments.

9) Second, you expect the poor employee at the PC to just “DELETE” this line (which if you think of it, is costing them extra ink, so I am technically saving them money) which reads “Requested for Installments”, for free?

10) Pay another 5KD and wait.

So in the end, I had to pay money to prove that I am no longer paying money.

Told you it was comical.

Police checkpoints in Kuwait – a guide to Suiting Up!

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Its 4PM and you have finally left the office and started heading home, you notice that the traffic on your favorite street is slightly more congested than usual, you drive up and find the familiar red-&-blue police car lights flashing in unison at the bend, just out of eye reach.

You fumble and grumble and remember that you might have possibly forgotten to take your wallet with you on the way home.

And then you start to panic.

This is what usually happens when people are crossing a police checkpoint, however, sometimes you get off the hook very easily, and no it is not that women are not stopped, BS.

Here are a few tricks to staying on the right side of Misha’al Qanoun (Johnny Law’s Kuwaiti cousin):

1) DO NOT PANIC! This is easier said than done, yesterday I changed direction 4 times when leaving my house because I left my wallet at home and there was a checkpoint, even though last week I had sailed through one on the way home from work with ease because I knew I had my papers on me. Ever notice how anyone caught doing something illegal (i.e. at the airport, bringing in contraband) is described as looking “confused”? Confusion is panic.

2) Most cars pulled over at the checkpoints are either:

a) Old and likely to be viewed as a pollution menace.

b) New but driven by shady looking drivers (alas, judging books by their covers is routinely done, it is no secret).

3) For old cars, there is really not much you can do, try being well dressed? Sometimes a guy in a suit can get away with things.

4) For new cars with shady looking drivers, again, try wearing a suit. It works wonders.

So yes, what we are basically trying to say in a nutshell is:

suit-up-wallpaper

Suit up Kuwait!

And try to look innocent, yeah?

Can Turkish Coffee predict the Future?

Mystics and madmen have long since concluded that Turkish coffee has awesome, awe-inspiring powers.

Not only can it turn mindless zombies into productive employees, it can also predict the future!

image

I have gathered scientific evidence to prove this theory:

in 2007 I got my first job (Dec 2006 to be exact) in Shuwaikh area, where I was introduced to the wonders of the office kitchen! Free flowing rivers of tea, coffee and water to your hearts content! But I wanted more. So in March of 2008 I left for greener pastures in Kuwait City area.

Sadly, Turkish coffee was no longer available in that new office.

By January of 2010 I had made my third career transition and progression back to Shuwaikh area, and lo and behold! Turkish coffee returned once more! A pattern had developed, and so the future was easily determined.

My next move would be to Kuwait City, and Turkish coffee would not be available sadly.

As predicted, so to did it happen! For in 2013 I once again made my return to Kuwait City, albeit briefly! For I found they served Turkish coffee, and immediately recognized this ominous warning with a sense of foreboding, knowing I had to return to Shuwaikh in order to write this error!

And I did, and the prophecy continued, technically. For here unlike all other places, all office drinks came at a price, and hence were not free as previously established.

Fastforward to today, and once again, I am back in Kuwait City, with a free brew of Miraculous Turkish Coffee in my hand.

That, is one drink to which my professional progression is forever tied!

 

How I tore my pants on the way to my new Job

Adding a touch of humor to your lives; read up on the following TRUE story of a most harrowing first day on a new job!

As with all new beginnings, a sharp image is always desired in order to make the proper first impression. As I was starting a new job (yesterday), it seemed imperative to get the image right.

The day started off normally enough, hopes of doing early morning exercise dashed upon the ground of reality and of finding comfort in the deep, warm trenches of the blanket in bed.

When it came time to “Suit up!” (as Barney likes to say) I was surprised that my first choice of suit was not a good fit. At first I believed I had mistakenly taken my father’s suit, but as it turns out, it was mine from a whole ago (and is now in need of  a slimming).

The second suit fit perfectly (a little too perfectly as you shall soon find out). After the wife took the glorious first day of new job pics, I headed on down to the car. Upon entering and placing my derriere on the leather seat, I was greeted with a strange noise which at first was attributed to sitting on a flyer from the many ads placed in newspapers etc. It seemed strangely peculiar as I do not currently subscribe to any printed newspapers, nor do I have any in my car! It was a welcomed distraction from the truth.

I had torn through the seat of my pants.

An obvious wardrobe malfunction had occurred which necessitated another change, lest the change be to my career for showing up in such a distasteful state.

As the saying goes, things can only go up from here! And indeed they did.

I had a tremendous first day at work, where I learned that the employees have access to a gym after office hours (which ends at 4)!

August 2011 ( View complete archive page )

September 2011 ( View complete archive page )

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