Comprehensive Calligraphy

          Yes, everyone, it's true, this really IS my third post in two days. New personal record. Gold medal and red carpet treatment for me then. I've only bothered to write this thing is because I've promised a really good friend of mine, that I will. And, I did, duh. This means that this post will revolve entirely around things we both have discussed in the near or far past, present or future, so, don't be alarmed if you understand absolutely nothing, but be comforted that, someone out there actually knows what I'm talking about.

          Kids. 4 letters, big meanings. Small brats who poop their pants, drool all over the Persian carpet and yell all the time, or adorable little beings with soft skin and limited intelligence and life-expertise that makes us wan to go all aww? You be the judge. The ability to fall in love instantaneously with a wrinkled, red, hairy grubby creature that's been leeching nutrients off you-making it the biggest form of parasite ever, right after that jerk of a roommate we all have- has always been something experienced, and enjoyed, by women. The same can't be said for men, who, for obvious reasons, have a natural aversion to anything wrinkled, hairy, red or anything that couldn't be placed on the cover of Vogue anyway. Women who are good with children are really attractive to men, though, so it can be all-bad, can it? We learn to live with it, because some things are more important than others, such as, hmm, gouda cheese and Old Spice cologne.

          Huge bosoms attract men. Granted. Moustaches do not. Granted. What I do find inexplicable is, despite all the pretenses men give while around their guy-friends, which may, or may not, include references to the redhead who just passed by, or to the foreign girl they just happened to take home the other night, they still manage to fall for charm that does not require eyes and  a hugely-sexually-centred visual centre in the brain. Men still can appreciate efficiency, sweetness and care, but they are still confusing idiots, make no mistake. Try again in a couple of thousand millenia, maybe evolution would have helped.

          It's funny how laughter can hold so many different meanings, if you set your mind to it. It also intrigues me how women can kickbox all day and still feel pain they can't help but feel. It's also funny how, at the end of the day, life goes on no matter how much crap is dumped all over our heads and despite everything we do to get ourselves to live with it. Life goes on, senorita, so you'd better keep going. Don't stop.

"We can have vasectomies, hysterectomies, tonsillectomies, but, even though people can technically remain physiologically alive without hearts, we've never head of a cardiectomy. Now you mention it, we haven't heard of a cerebrectomy either." - Ismail El-Kharbotly, open for interpretation.

Underrating Machine Guns

          So, this marks the first blog post I happen to write while being food-deprived, which, as the people closest to me would know, is the third most dangerous state to be in. Food depravity, combined with dreams of cannibalistic party-goers and shiny neon green toxic bugs, are enough to drive anyone to the very brink of extinction. I had a theory a coupe of days back that the dinosaurs died out because they did not have the opposable thumbs to invent TV or writing, and after several million years of life on Earth, there are only so many things you can do, so one day, they just decided watching swamp plants die is too damn boring, and they just, I don't know, jumped off a cliff or something. Luckily, us humans managed to just discover fire before we got this insane, and with the discovery of fire came the habit of sitting around fireplaces,grilling stuff and talking, as a means of entertainment. Did anyone notice that the word 'discovery' had the word 'disco' in it?

          After wasting a number of potential hours reading a book that comprised the Nordic god Thor, a green immortal alien who thrived on drinking every form of beer present in the universe and insulting people in alphabetic order, I have come to think that maybe the Infinite Improbability Drive thing could work. I like how the word Froody sounds. Reminds me of Fred Flinstone. Never liked him.

          People have accused me of hogging a mind that was an exceedingly entertaining place to live. Matter of fact, some even went as far as to suggest that I have invented a new form of hallucinogenic form of liquor that has permanent effect. This can not happen, and therefore, has not. Why? Because, had I invented this form of liquor, I would have had such creative energy in me to have burned my way through all the pleasures of life, and got so bored by the time I became 30 I built a time machine so I can go back in time and keep myself company with the only person I feel really understands me, most of the time. Me. However, since I do not have a mega cool middle-age friend who's just as awesome as I am, add the great gizmos of the future, then, yeah, I'm not on that amazing liquor thing. Sorry.

          Someday I'll create a new superweapon made of an emo kid with the ability to absorb all negative emotions from the world and use it to self destruct, killing everyone around him/her. This new weapon will make super rich and famous because its usage will be a win-win situation: I get money, the emo kid dies and gets his misery over with, the world loses its content of negative emotion for a while, everyone is happy, the dead people won't have to pay taxes anymore and the people who deployed the bomb got what they wanted. Everybody wins. Maybe I'll offer different models: one with goth kids, others with ghetto kids. This last one will be superb, it can even squirt kool-aid after it's been detonated. Some people would call me a racist, but then I'd give them my talk about the new idiot Drake, yeah, the one who supposedly raps, but that's another story.

          So, until next time friends, make sure your poodles are kept away from next winter's supply of ponchos. Sayonara!

I can see a hard disk, silver  on top, black and green below,
I have no idea why people use things at parties to make their teeth glow,
Must be a new novelty, but hey, next thing you know,
The next big thing would be to have a double chin grow.

Glazed Pottery

          I've been receiving tons of letters from the masses of fans I have out there asking me questions about my personal life, but, today, I choose to share some with you, my readers, fans, haters, and mother (if she managed to find her way here):

Question #457: Ismail, do you prefer electric or manual toothbrushes?
Answer: Manual: They're free to operate, they cost less, and nobody needs more excuses to laze off toothbrush duty. Plus, it comes in more colours. gotta love colours.

Question #385: Dear Ismail, we salute you from an alternate dimensional Earth where us Nazis have managed to create a pan-dimensional radio to listen to your show and transmit your message, and we would like to ask what is your take on the Fuehrer?
Answer: Well, I'd suggest the Fuehrer lose the mustache, this is 2010 for crying outloud, and tell him I say hi, and to thank his mum for her delicious crab cakes.

Question #21: Ismail El-Kharbotly: How do you manage to stay so thin?
Answer: It's a genetic trick developed by my ancestors so that all the ladies would want to have my babies to make sure their kids are as thin as I am. It's working.

Question #409: What inspired you to write your world famous best-seller "Ismail El-Kharbotly's Guide to Understanding Those Shopping-Obsessed Humanoids We Call Women"?
Answer: Well, this might come out as a shock to some fans, but it's really quite simple: I wanetd to write a guide that has my name on it for people who don't understand women, who happen to be humanoids by the way, and who like to shop. The inspiration stemmed from the eternal clash that results between a guy thinking something is gay, which would translate in a woman's mind as sweet. Men hate shopping.

Question #7658: How are you so warm?
Answer: People never believe me when I tell them I'm so hot I'm on FIIIIIIREE, on the inside, that is. Their loss.

Question #998: How do you always keep a smile on our faces?
Answer: By being a good person, helping the old and the poor, teaching the young, driving safely, and eating sugar responsibly. I never take medications without my doctor's prescription, and I eat all my veggies and leave nothing on the table, so I grew up to be big and strong!

Question #45: Who do you think will find this blogpost worth reading?
Answer: I could say something as dramatic as "I write to satisfy the muse within me, not to please any man" but then again, maybe no one will. Does it make a difference?

Question # 768: Waht do you pride yourself on?
Answer: My ability to fall asleep anytime, anywhere. Comes in handy.

Question #9976: What's next?
Answer: What's next is that I'll end this blogpost, but first:

I like baked beans, I don't like cauliflower,
I like disco I can feel the power,
But disco is dead and Elvis is from outer space,
He left the critics hanging and went on to a better place.


No idea what Elvis has to do with disco though.

          So, I'm back to my infrequent blog posts, and back to the country. Traveling's nice, it's good for you. Try it. Marina's not considered traveling. Marina sucks. Too boring, too typical, and everyone goes and stays there for extended periods of time. Boring much? Don't get me started on how the humidity makes your hair stick to the nape of ur neck. Just don't.
   
          I'm actually posting this particular post because my only 4 readers have all promised to pay me for it. Maybe I should just ask for an exorbitant gift, such as, hmm, ear wax from people who carry the direct lineage of the original human races as they divided one by one from the main African ancestor. Fresh ear wax. Direct descendants too, mind.

         I recently bought this book called Guns, Germs and Steel. Regardless of its content, for some reason I can't help but think about how much more pleasant the title would sound with an alliteration.  It's called an alliteration, right? how about Guns, Germs and Gangsta Groove? Guns, Germs and Ganja? Guns, Germs and Goliath? Guns, Germs and Gacob Glack? (sorry, that was the only way I could let it fit in, sorry Team Edward ladies).

         One thing I never quite got the hang of at gyms. Why are all the weights large and made of steel? Can't they make smaller sized weights packed with high density material to crete high weights? or is it the fact that putting seemingly-large weights on helps give athletes a psychological boost?


          Seriously? Irish coffee?

          No idea why I just typed that, I swear.

          Akon must be the biggest asshole in the history of hip hop. When rappers talk abuot women, they talk only vaguely, they do't promise women money and love and whatsnot, but Akon, Akon promises each girl the world, then moves onto another girl in the next song with different promises, then goes out to talk about peping at the neighbour. Serious. Issues.

           When  hear the Forrest Gump quote "Life's like a box of chocolates, you never know what you'll get" I keep on wondering why the hell didn't anyone bother to read the ingredients or product escription on the back of the box.

I fire my laser beam, you scream, 
Your suit shuts down, your gun stops firing,
You stop wearing moisturising cream, it might seem,
It's all over, Laser Tag is no longer inspiring.