Barakatek ya 7aga Dinah.....

Finally after several hundred years, I am officially smitten, but the motherfucker is so hard to read. Why isn't it ever simple?
Why?

I feel like I'm 16 again.

Diego is the utter hotness ....

For similarly sexy people, go the the aptly titled Sexy People blog.

Utterly Random and Fascinating Fact of the Day....

Since I had a looming deadline, I naturally felt the need to waste time looking up random stuff on the internits. So there I was researching which Cate Blanchett movie had a promo poster that reminded me a little of the Dutch movie "Black Book" which I had seen a few days before (The Good German, if you care), and then lo and behold the following came up on her wikipedia page:

"When she was 18, Blanchett went on a vacation to Egypt. A fellow guest at a cheap hotel in Cairo asked if she wanted to be an extra in a movie, and the next day she found herself in a crowd scene cheering for an American boxer losing to an Egyptian in the film Kaboria, starring the late Egyptian actor Ahmad Zaki."

What?

So of course further research and more time wasting was required, and courtesy of youtube and an extra-ordinarily patient person who wasted a couple of hours of his life which he will probably regret but feel strangely proud of, Cate's appearance in the movie has been immortalized. She pops up towards the end of the clip, but I recommend watching it all the way through anyway. We all have to start some where, and yes, the translations used here is "Crabs".



So not only did the film give rise to one of the most happening haircuts of 1990s Egypt, it also showcased a future Oscar winner's talents with pompoms (still looking for that scene).


At this point, I would not be at all surprised if someone from the masterpiece that is "3al2et Mot" was working on his/her/its acceptance speech.

I walked past.
I really didn't want to.

By proxy?

Noisy romp neighbours have returned to haunt the upstairs flat yet again. This time the twist is this pair apparantly only like getting frisky in the morning at around 7:30-8:00 am. While I'm not averse to a bit of that in the morning every now and then, these people are exclusively morning rompers. Surely morning breath on a daily basis is a passion killer?
My subconscious has found a strange way of coping with the early morning soundtrack of squeek, squeek, squeek...etc. So far, this week alone I've dreamt I was on a swing, a boat and on one of those rowing machine contraptions at the gym.

Fol.

Portraits of would-be stalkers: A retrospect

In order to relieve the current bitchiness brought on by my inability to deal with the previously mentioned entanglements (see previous post), I have decided to channel my frustration into providing a platform to discuss those insane serial adders on facebook.
You know, the ones who have no connection whatsoever with you, but feel strangely comfortable with posting profile pictures showing off their boobs and moobs (I'm all for equality, you see)in all their glory.
I primarily keep the nutters on the request list for a quick peek every now and then to assure myself of how normal my own friends are.

Here I've categorized some of my favourites into the following groups (as ordered above):

1-The pensive look/deep thinking/bedroom eyes group.
(You take pictures of yourself, you freak?)
2-The Ray-Ban crew.
(Yes, sunglasses really do make you instantly irresistible)
3-The animals and babies love me, so I must be lovable.
(No they don't, you pervert-Notice that the cat quite unimpressed with the package).
4-The moob/boob/gun toting how sexy am I? people.
(Moobs are often equal size to boobs)
5-Miscellaneous weirdos.
(Both Casper the Ghost and Hannibal Lecter make an appearance-Also if you want to know where Hoffa is, he's probably stuck down that guys jeans)


Edilloh poke yedeek tarawah....

The agony of it all.....

When standing at the bus stop in the freezing cold for what seems like hours, I often hear my fellow bus shelter inhabitants exchanging the familiar remark about how you wait for a bus for what seems like hours and then when they do show up, it's always in threes.
Why threes?
I don't know.
But it's what happens.
I'm sure there's a probability theory or some fantastic mathematical equation that explains it all. But it doesn't explain how let down you are when all three come at once and none of them are the bus you actually want to get on. Or even worse, they come and you realise that you really just wanted to hop on your old bicycle instead.

Ok, so that previous introduction was a rather clumsy attempt at describing the current situation: nobody for eons, then a veritable deluge(well relatively anyway). Rather than embrace my new found popularity with the gusto of a newly reformed boyband, I feel an overwhelming sense of dissatisfaction and frustration. The fact is I've been unwillingly dislodged from my perch of indifference regarding my long (long) term singledom,and none of the prospects appeal to me at all. They actually frighten me.


I really,really miss my old bike.