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    Яαgιи Яαvєи
    Cairo, Egypt
    Wanting people to listen, you can't just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer, and then you'll notice you've got their strict attention.
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Tapping at my chamber door




Friday, September 29, 2006

Airport Love

Today I went to the airport to pick up a family member. I kept remembering how beautiful the sight of families meeting and hugging. That look of anticipation itself that you find on people's faces is worth a million dollars; and that worried look when they announce a delay on the flight schedule on the big black board that tells people how far are they from meeting their loved ones and holding them tight; and the eyes that speak with tears as their native language saying 'I'll never let you go again'.

It was 3:30 pm when I left to the airport. The flight was scheduled to arrive in Cairo at around 5 pm, but my parents wanted to be there earlier and wait. My mother kept saying what if her flight arrives early and she finds no one there. Oh well, God bless the information desk. I called them up and they assured me that the flight is due to arrive at 5 pm so I figured that time is a fact that is easily killed… after all we're talking about one lousy hour anyways. The moment we got there, they told us that there's been a delay and that the plane's going to land at 6 pm. Damn information… I'll go get me a Mad Magazine and kill off the extra hour. Of course 6 pm meant that we're going to have to break our fasting at the airport. We only had some dates and small bottles of water with us… and the food they sell at airports ain't exactly food if you know what I mean.

By 5:30 they said that there's been a mistake. The flight's going to arrive at 7:01 pm.

7:01?! I mean WTF man?!

The flight got delayed by two hours so '01' doesn't exactly say accuracy, does it?

The peak of my rage was too high that if I had jumped I'd have probably died. I went in search for the information desk only to find no one there. The office was empty, left with a big shiny sign that said INFORMATION to make people feel like someone inside that office knows something that we don't, but with nothing but emptiness inside, all I had to do was to go and wait for one more hour then walk off to the cafeteria, order a cup of coffee and drown my growing rage in it. I didn't smoke any cigarettes since I'm on the verge of quitting so I thought what the hell, one or two more nicotine free hours ain't going to kill anybody.

Information my ass!! Those lying bastards!! Yeah you better run you pathetic piece of…

I don't know if it was people's lack of nicotine or whether that's how airport love has turned into, but everyone waiting for flight 312 was seriously beyond pissed. I even had my own share of the drama when I fought with a woman who had that look like she's just killed her husband and cut him into small pieces that would fit her Metro market plastic bags. She even called a cop to take me away. Can you bellieeeeve that shit?! The nerves on that… Grrr

Everyone was fighting, yelling, getting ready to rock'n'roll. The 60 year old policemen were all shouting in vain and one of them looked like he'd need a doctor soon.

Oh I don't think I like airports anymore.

At one moment, I knew if I had a bazooka I would have blasted every single one of those annoying people out of existence. Now that I think about it, I was annoying myself, and I don't think it's just the lack of nicotine that made me see the hatred all around me. I do think that the airport theme has changed.

I holstered my bazooka back into my imaginary belt and that's when she walked through the gate, my sister and her little one.

Oh I hated today… but it was totally worth it.

PS One last piece of advice, if you're planning on going to the airport anytime soon, make sure your gun ain't loaded. The mind gets tricky there when you're staring at a big black board that knows nothing whatsoever. God damn information!!

Dear Dad,

Thank you for bullshitting when I needed a simple answer to put my mind at peace, even if your intention was to sneak out of a question that you had no answer to.

Now that I've grown older, I should be the one passing my wisdom over to someone smaller.

I guess, what I'm trying to say is…


Never bullshit a bullshitter.






Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Oh piss off!!

A new encounter with daytime TV drama hit my reality buffer today. Get hit by news that you've been the talk of the town and you'll know what I mean when I say 'For the love of God, get a fucking life'.

When a Loser with a capital L breaks the news very very VERY gently that it has been rumored around the block that you're this and that when nobody has no clue what they're talking about in the first place, I just feel like donating a couple bucks to the sad, helpless, and extremely annoying organization; a sad case of bullshit drama needs to be rectified.

Assumption is the mother of all fuckups... that is what some people need to start learning.

Don't you find it cool that people whom you don't give two shits about have been spending more and more minutes discussing your lifestyle and how naive you've been and how they wish you'd wake up, judging you and making decisions on your behalf… out of pure love?

I mean WTF is wrong with people? Grrr… You can take that love in its purest of form and shove it.

And to hear the news from a dude whom I believe would take the first baby step into sanity if he would just do a course of 'home made tranquillizer shots'… or shoot a couple fireworks into his belly. Is it too hard for people to just say 'I don't care' and move on. Isn't that what normal people should do… just mind their own fucking business.

This 'encounter of the stupid kind' ended with me asking him of his reaction to their "talks" to which he answered that he told them that they were right.

He did break it gently.

I, in return, broke his heart by calling him an asshole…

Very very VERY gently.

Monday, September 25, 2006

'Deep cleansing breaths',

she said … and it worked like magic.

He was angry. He was pissed. Unfortunately, He knew how his mind worked and how his psychological self functions. When pissed, his mind tends to seek peace in solitary confinement. Solitude has always been the answer, his only answer; his excuse to be left alone unbothered.

'Deep, cleansing breaths', she said.

He smiled.

He wasn't angry anymore. He didn't fear tomorrow. He knew that all he had to do was take a deep and cleansing breath to reassure himself that everything is alright, just like she said.

He still had unanswered questions, but he knew that her breaths would do for now...

and he ended up smiling for no reason whatsoever…

The month of redemption

We've currently been embraced by the holy month of Ramadan where from dawn ill dusk, we're supposed to be all clean and spiritual inside or whatever.

My friends and I of course return every year with a new challenge for ways to enhance the concept of relaxation, basically being all about being a lazy ass. It becomes a contest with only one objective; to show who'll stay out of sight the longest. Which friend will just lay back in a room and not give a damn.

We eat, smoke, soak our souls in a huge coffee tub and sit back enjoying life, alone.

After breakfast some people settle for Shammi desserts that basically all taste the same. Well, for most of us, the moment the Imam hits in with the Maghrib Athan, we get our lighters out of the locked drawer, a big ass coffee mug… and then it's ROCK'N'ROLL baby!!

(Some don't even wait for dusk to break their fasting but oh well, I'm not here to judge.)

Two hours later, it's like shooting fireworks. The three hours that pass right after breakfast are always, unquestionably, the most gratifying, rewarding, pleasing, ego filling with mint chocolate syrup and cream…

Not to mention the dozen tv sitcoms with the same actors switching places to play each others' roles in a new Ramadan TV fest.

I wonder how much do TV channels make out of commercial breaks during the month of Ramadan alone as compared to the rest of the year. Anybody?

Pepsi, food, food, food, and Pepsi. Holiness does come with a new onion soda stench every year.

Yeah I'll just lay back and watch you come and go…


Still Life Cinema

Poseidon (2006)

Dylan Johns: [to Richard, who has Valentine clinging to his leg as they dangle at the entrance to an elevator shaft, with an elevator above them about to fall] Shake him off!
Richard Nelson: What?
Dylan Johns: If you don't, then we both die!
Richard Nelson: [to Valentine] I'm so sorry.
[shakes him off, Valentine falls to the bottom of the elevator shaft and is impaled]

'Shake him off. Shake him off now!!'

Don't we all just think we could be the last action hero who comes around to the occasion? Well, this one visualizes just how fragile a person who thinks they're everything can be when it hits them that this is it!!

The rest of the film wasn't as bad as its imdb rating. It felt a lot like "every other disaster" movie; not to mention that the scene where Kurt Russel goes to turn off the propeller was a bad copy of Bruce Willis's in Armageddon. Filmmaking clichés filled the screen throughout the picture, but that scene when Dylan Johns (Josh Lucas) tells Nelson (Dreyfuss) to shake off the guy who held a bar over which everyone walked, passing over to higher ground, remains my favorite. This is as real as it gets. Cinema should have more of that and less pretentiousness.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Le crème de le crème

Churn, churn, and churn.

We're rats born into a world of cream, a bucket. The moment we stop churning, we fall out of the bucket and get replaced by a younger, more efficient mouse. We try hard and churn hard not to let that happen, not to face termination. At least that's what I used to think I was, a rat.

I've come to learn that the truth is, however, is that we're the bucket, we're the cream, and each of us possesses their own quality, nature. The rats are but life altering events churning into us, making us wiser, deeper, steeper, and more solid; making us fall into rot or rise to an occasion of appreciation and self respect.

One can accept becoming a block of edible cheese that would eventually be absorbed by life or stored on a shelf to rot away in vain, or struggle into remaining pure cream and fight the rats away from their essence.

Would you change in order to please a couple rats?

I believe we've all done that.

Monday, September 18, 2006

Well, my darling will

Well, (My lovely appetizer)

It only takes one layer of sheet.

Basically, it begins with childhood, swings, and football. Words like mommy and play seem to be the most used vocabulary thrown in on that first roll, and words such as manipiolation is a long word that we can't even spell.

Then comes weird, girls, no one gets me, I want, and I hate; Adolescence and dreams of becoming something impossible and hating an imaginary creation of the brain that we make up in order to expand a newly discovered emotion. Play grows into a new meaning by then and the list of things that we want and desire grow beyond what a fool's hand can reach out for.

We grow as we learn how to step on certain things. Facts, sacrifice and reality reach a new level of significance in our dictionary. We start to give up on our dreams in order to accomplish what's humanly possible. By then we start realizing Faith, God, Love, Nobility, and Patriotism. By that age we learn how to believe and what deserves to be believed in and followed.

Another dark layer can be rolled over now in order to cover up the stench of the decomposing soul that we're trying to deny is getting wiser, older, and weaker. We face disease, life, and death. Tragedy becomes more than just a word that sounds catchy. It becomes more difficult to laugh and a mere smile becomes all that we aim for, sacrifice for, and die for. If only we'd have known sooner.

We start asking for mommy to explain to us where we have gone wrong, which turn has led us astray.

And finally, we roll one last sheet of paper with the word will silver plated across. For some reason, I never thought I'd be writing one. I always knew I was invincible and immortal. Oh I've been a fool on so many levels. You start looking at the things that you really have, own, possess and begin the process of choosing heirs to your greatness, but then you realize that those things are few and small. Money at a bank that you write over to a family member, a couple CDs, a DVD collection? You set flames to your random thoughts and dreams and stories that you've written that you thought were so great to take for granted, when you realize that when you die they're worthless. We've played for so long. If only we'd have known sooner.

The final sheet is short and there's not much to say other than give away a couple material elements to family members and sign at the bottom. Words, the vocabulary you've lived your whole life piling up becomes totally worthless when you realize that there's nothing more that you'd like to say to 'them'.

The final sheet is complete and a pretty little knot is tied.

The shroud is set.

Now you start wondering about the vocabulary you'd like to use with Him. You want to say I'm sorry

…but your mind is a total blank.

Saturday, September 16, 2006

And then he spoke

"You want to know what the crime of the century is?

Is it the WW2 Jewish holocaust? Hiroshima and Nagasaki? It's 2006 now. Most of the people surviving now have only read about the holocaust in history books written by Jewish scholars. The Japanese mushroom cloud that used to be the most tragic scene of disaster has now transformed into becoming a ready made still image to be used in award-winning commercial documentaries about tragedies or to portray a figment of a lead character's nightmare in a Hollywood flick.

The crime of the century is the indifference of good men. So you want to tell me that there is still good out there. Muslims? Jews? Christian children of god and Jesus? Buddhists? They all believe in saving your ass for your children's sake, teach them to become stronger men than they ever were. Yesterday it was the struggle for human rights, religion; the struggle for faith... but here's the beef that's going to kill you; today they all row the same boat towards an indifferent society, where nothing of real value matters. They've all become obnoxious pricks seeking and needing the sight of value in each others' eyes. Arrogance is what marks the end.

I am here because of their indifference."

He said that… and then I woke up…

and everything was still the same.

Friday, September 15, 2006

My inadequate thoughts on freedom

Is it just me or has the internet become plain unsuitable for people of certain decency standards?

Lately, I've been conducting my own personal research regarding the matter, and I've realized that it has become difficult for an average person, who somewhat abides to their religion, knows right from wrong, and isn't stereotypical, to find something suitable to expand their cyber entertainment luxury, whether it's educational or for their mere fun pleasures.

Beginning with video sharing websites, such as YouTube and Vidilife, that seem to revolve around a couple funny videos, a hundred or so political/celebrity scandal videos, and a zillion porn flicks. Free porn for everybody, softcore though. The small person that lives inside of me who thinks that he's cool would scream out "Awesome", but the older person who's starting to realize certain facts in life and prioritizing matters that stand out is thinking "Where the hell is the world heading to?"

Moreover, some idiot registered my email on a website subscription and now my email keeps getting all sorts of pornographic spam. I have 1500 spam emails in my gmail spam folder and I've only emptied it on August 31st. I should be calling my digitally hired attorney and file a lawsuit against the cyber world for the distress that it has caused me.

I've also realized lately that the most popular Egyptian bloggers out there happen to be freakishly rude, frequently using terminology that are anti-decency, and have a severe tendency to refer to their personal life as being as hippy and anti-culture/religion as possible. Starting with five to six people that discussed sex with their girlfriends, preferable sex locations, their temptingly cool drug addictions, and how their husbands and children perceive the "boobs" account…. as if the cyber world really cares… GET A LIFE MAN!! I don't really care if you don't mind drinking alcohol and I don't care if you've had sex before marriage. No one does. Get… a… fucking life you "open minded" prick!!

Not to mention some other dude who finds it funny to throw in phrases and Egyptian terms that I wouldn't really want to highlight furthermore. We, Gypo men, tend to use such terms amongst ourselves. That's right… we do and everybody knows that, but a certain points we hold such language back in an attempt to appear to be as decent as cabbage. Hence, the way I see it, the usage of such language on blogs only introduces the jargon used into the main core of the language. Is this how my children are going to be communicating? I'd hate to see the day when all we're left with is a bunch of rude, progressive, sexually explicit human trash.

Sex-oriented blogging and Youtube and pornographic spam and dick comedy ain't the worst that could happen. In fact, I shouldn't even bother. Freedom of speech and expression, huh!! I should start minding my own business I guess; but then again if you don't like my blog page you might as well leave, dude. I sure did leave yours.

Freedom my ass.

(Maybe I am just getting older)


Needless to say,



I'm too lazy I don't even want to go see a doctor. I'd rather stay home, lay back, and adapt to the newly found pain.

Any blogging doctor out there who wouldn't mind doing a house visit?

and while you're at it... get me some a medium Italiano pizza from Dominoes...

and one large Pepsi... DIET!!

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Yesterday it was either Bach or Mozart.

Diversity and choices, options and variety, multiplicity.

We have noodles and sushi, Pepsi or Coke. We got French fries and onion rings, curly fries and crispy fries.

We have Internet Explorer or Mozilla Firefox, Google or Yahoo. For instant messaging we're down to Yahoo, MSN, G-Talk, ICQ, Pal talk, Skype, mIRC, and the list continues to grow until it becomes harder and harder to locate people. Globalization has reached its peak and now it's dropping back to ground zero.

Yesterday we had the local yellow pages, everyone was listed.

What once was music and freedom now is just plainly "being cool". It used to be either Bach or Mozart; now we have pop, rock, house, trance, chill out, rave, metal, gothic, old school rap and gangsta rap, hip hop and R&B, jazz, techno. And with all the diversity in the music industry, sadly, they all sound the same. No more originality and no more catchy tunes. The mood driven by the music has lost its essence and the lyrics all share the same words and the same conclusion. It's like one big plagiaristic conspiracy to drive us all into the same hole of indifference.

What do we really have?

Since the 80s, people have changed, things have changed, ethics, principles, the senses for justice and morality. It's as if we've become mere vessels through which life can just pour in and out, one vessel after the next, until all that remains is emptiness.

I miss the world that once was.

Yesterday it was either Bach or Mozart.

Today… we've got nothing that is real.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Mirror, mirror on the wall

A distant cry for help and a crouching gladiator, praying for remorse. Meanest anguish for plain deceit, he thought. I quench a desire for a pizza and grow a tummy that I shall name Todd. It grows old, antiquates over my age. I still crawl up to my mirror and cry,

'Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who's the fairiest of them all?'

'It is but you, my lord and host', said the lying mirror.

I walked past a distance to a place unknown still and wished for a cup of tea that would highlight my day to be marked on a suppositious calendar on a hypothetical wall that I have in a room abstract upstairs in my pillow-walled, two-leveled fictitious house, where my mirror dwells in peace and for always.

Everything was reversed in this illusive world that I've created for my blissful spirit to find peace within itself. Pigs were crowned kings and wives hit men with sledgehammers and children ruled over the household. If only I could find a small hut for me to reside at and be at peace and die alone. I don't care. If only I had magic powers I'd make that hut disappear with me in it. I would rejoice in my own self inflicted void and praise the lord that I still am. Not to mention a silent perseverance that would stand out to the non-existent raving crowds and cry in anger 'I still do exist', needless of my mirror.

'A fuck up, an outcast, a degenerate fool, a marine soldier, a Roman gladiator; I'm somebody's guardian angel; I'm the king's jester, and the kingdom's traitor. Hang me. Free me from guilt and shame', disgracefully he voiced that nobody was listening to.

An Infatuated self pity of a soul that cries for help, with no one around to listen and no hand to reach out for, grabs the mirror standing tall and cries 'mirror, mirror on the wall. Who's the fairest of them all?'. Hypocrisy hasn't served me well, never served me at all.

'It is but you, my lord and host'. She said the words I've been longing to hear.

Still reversed, a parallel fictitious universe of my own foolish creation; a world that I've been leaning on for so long. I drown the house and calendar and mirror in my own blood that's leaking out of my vessels, seeking another host with a far better vision.

I should have stopped. I should have listened. I should have overlooked.

I should wash the soot out of my eyes and pray for a better tomorrow in this real world I have returned to.

Then I found myself rushing into the ladies room.

Monday, September 11, 2006

كلنا بطحه... و بطحه للجميع



نظرا لارتعاع عدد المشاهدين تم انشاء بلوغغ (كلنا بطحه) لأنه قد لوحظ مدى تدنّي المستوى الفني و الفكري لبلغغ الفروزن لايف بينتنج دي... و بالتالي لعدم التشويش على الفكر الراقي تم نقل التفاهه الى صفحة عتريس علشان ياخد راحته و ميقرفناش بتفاهته و تفاهة المجتمع المحيط بالواد عتريس بتاع البطحه.

متحسّسش هنا ياد يا عتريس... عندك صفحتك روح حسّس هناك..

ولاّ أقولّك... حسّس ياد حسّس... ماهي بايظه بايظه

Sunday, September 10, 2006

سلسلة بطحه - حكاية ليلى مع التحسيس




ماما شافتني آعد عالنت و بدأت الفضيحه

كان لازم أبربر موقفي علشان تسيبلي سلك الكمبيوتر. و لمّا حكيت اللى عندي عينيها دمّعت و البقبق اليمين بقى أكبر من البقبق الشمال و قامت واخده الماوس و حدفته من الشّباك و عملتلها بلوغغ هي رخرى سمّتها "كلّكم..." و كلمه كده مرضتش أكتبها. أول بوست ليها كان اسمه " بيتك بيتك يا بت منّك ليها"

معلش يا بنات ماما لسانها طويل حبّتين.

لقيت أنا حريم كتير مركّزين على نقطة المعاكسه... كأنه حرمااان و حرييم تانيه مركّزه عالجنس قبل الجواز.. معلش يا ليلى هوّ حرّ الصيف بيعمل في الناس كده. و النفس أمّاره بالسوق.. والبنزين "حرّكوا" سعره و اللحمه البتلّو بقت مبتشبّعش و الحياه بقت كرب.

ولاّ البت اللى جت قالت "لا يا محموود.. أنا مش عايزه أخلّف بنات عشان أنا كان أخويا بيعاكس و يصاحب و يعمل حاجات عيب و أنا كنت محرومه علشان المجتمع ميقلش عليّا لا مؤاخذه عاهره. ده أنا لو المجتمع بس كان فهمني... كان زماني عملت العجب"... يااادي النيييله السووده... دول غيرانين ان الرجاله بس هم اللى من حقّهم يعملوا معصيه... ناولني يا وله البندجه خلّيني أطخ البت دي هي و محموود بتاعها ده.

الواد عتريس جري على أمّه و هي قاعده على اللاب توب بتاعها "بتتصفّح البلغغز" و سألها يا ستّ الحاجه يا ترى البت دي حتسيب ابنها يصاحب و يضبّط حريم و يعاكس طالما معندوش اخوات بنات؟

ماما قالتله خش نام و كفايه انترنت. البلوغّرز جالهم عته.

قال لها بس يا ماما ضميري بياكلني...

قالتله نيّم أمّه بدل منيّمهولك.

أمّا البت اللى متضايقه انها بتتعاكس فكل اللى أقدر أقوله هو أن البت اللى مش عايزه تتعاكس عارفه كويّس أوي تلبس ايه و تتصرّف ازاي.

ده أنا حتّى رحت سألت أختي سنيّه (اسم الدلع سنسن) هم بيعاكسوكي يا بت؟..

قالتلي ليه ياد يا عتريش (البت لدغه في القاف زي نص الشعب المصري) شايفني لابسه عريان ولاّ محزّق زي ما يكون البنطلون متخيّط على جسمي.

قلتلها لع.

قالتلي شايفني ماشيه و صاحبي حاطت ايده على ظهري ولاّ مريّح دراع اللى جابته على كتفي؟

قلتلها لع

قالتلي شايفني بتكلّم بدلع زي ما أكون بدوّر على عريس و حاطّه اللبانه في بقّي بعمل بيها فقافيع؟

قلتلها لع

قالتلي و رجلي المسمسه شايفني كاشفاها ولاّ لابسه جيبه نص كمّ و قاعده حطّه رجل على رجل في الكوفي شوب علشان أبيّن الجمال الأنثوي بتاعي؟

قلتلها لع

قالتلي طب سيبك من ده كلّه يا وله. شايفني قاعده مع الرجاله راقعه ضحكه تسمّع رمسيس بعد ما نقلوه من تربته؟

قلتلها لع

قالتلي شايفني قاعده في وسط الرجاله بنكّت معاهم ولاّ بضحك معاهم على نكت سقيله زي وشّك؟

قلتلها... بت يا سنسن.. عدّاكي العيب والله.

امشي انجرّي روحي احلبي الجاموسه دي أحسن بقالها كتير متحلبتش.

قالتلي حاضر يا شي عتريش... و قامت سنسن و أنا عمّال أفكر...

يا ترى هو التحضّر هو ان البت تلبس بلوظه قصيّره ولاّ بنطلون أخوها الصغيّر؟

يا ترى التحضّر هو انهم يشيلوا من قسيمة الجواز اذا كانت البت بكر ولاّ لأ؟

لو انتم حاسّين بالاضطهاض فعدكم حق.

الاضطهاض موجود و أمر معترف بيه... لصالحكم طبعا...

كل اللى ليلى و أخواتها عليهم يعملوه انهم يعرّوا حتّة لحمه ولاّ يرقعوا الضحكه المتينه ولاّ يلبسوا جي سترنج في أكسيجين و كل الطرق بعد كده مفتوووووحه.

البت سنسن كان عندها حق لمّا قالتلي "صدق اللى قال ياد يا عتريش... البت عالنت زي التت في التربت"

واللى على راسه ليلى...

حسّس ياد يا عتريش... النهارده التحسيس ببلاش... بكره يحاسبوك بالليله.

و عجبي.

اللى على راسه ليلى



مشاكل الجنس اللطيف:

1. واحده جوزها بيضربها. – ربنا معاها بقى حقول ايه

2. واحده جوزها مش بيحترم رأيها علشان هو الراجل و هي الست - "سي لا في"

3. واحده مش طايقه جوزها علشان بيبصبص و محسسها انها لا شيء... ما انتي أكيد في حاجه غلط بتعمليها. ولاّ يمكن بقى جوزك مش مقتنع بانّه يغض بصره في الحاله دي انتي اللى في ايدك المخرج الديني.

4. واحده مش طايقه جوزها علشان مخليها هي اللى تذاكر للعيال و تطبخ و تكنس و تغسل.. طب و هو بيكون فين؟ بيعمل ايه؟ قولي له لو قاعد فاضي يساعدك... خلّيها حاجه مسلّيه. و بلاش التفكير يروح لبعيد... ورانا شغل لازم يخلص.

5. و واحده شايفه ان الناس بتبصلها نظرة الطفل للفراشه... كائن جميل بس لو يفضل ساكن... و احيانا بحس ان فعلا كل ما يفتحوا بقهم تحصل كارثه.

كل اللى أقدر أقوله كالتالي:

أولا، بالنسبه للفتاه المثمره العامله... حد خد باله قبل كده من ان نص البنات في مصر ممكن ياخده شغل أقل من الراجل لو عرفوا يهرجوا مع المدير سنّه زياده؟ أكيد خدتوا بالكم... للأسف الحريم بيجوا يطالبوا بحقوق معيّنه و بعدين يتملّصوا منها بحركه حرّه غير مباشرة تحمل معنى بريء لاكن كله وطيّ و حقاره.

ببقى قاعد في الشغل شايف البنت بتضحك مع ده و تخبط كف مع ده و أتخيل مراتي انها ممكن في شغلها تبقى واحده من دول.

راح فين زمن البنت المحترمه اللى في حالها؟

طب لو الرجّاله كلاب تهوهوو في وشهم ليه؟

تدّونا فرصه ليه؟

ولاّ في الكافيهات و البوس و الأحضان

ولاّ في مارينا وللى بيحصل تحت سطح الماء

ولاّ ولاّ ولاّ... و الكلام كتر يا عتريس... ليلى دماغها لسعت.

ازاي لو أنا راجل محترم أتجوز واحده بالمنظر ده؟

طب ألاقي فين ليلى المحترمه؟ لو في الشغل مش نافع و في النادي مش نافع؟

أقضّيها صالونات؟

مش يمكن المحترمه اللى في حالها في الصالون دي بتضرب حشيش و اتباست من طوب الأرض؟

طب الحل فين يا جماعة ليلى يا بتوع حريّة المرأه؟

بقينا في زمن "أريد حلاّ - للرجال فقط"

أظرف حاجه فعلا ان على حد علمي ان اللى بدأت الجماعه دي مصريه.... و دي حاجه مش محتاجه لا سب تيتلز و لا مترجم من السفاره... و لمّا تيجي ماما تسئلني ليه ياد يا عتريس اتجوزت سوريه ولاّ لبنانيه ولاّ صينيّه... حقوم فاتحلها بلوغ من بتوع تانت ليلى و أقول لها آدي ليلى يا ماما... لسعت و الطاسه اللى فوق اتحرقت... و نهار أبوها اسود اللى حاجي أتجوّزها و تيجي تقولّلي في شهر العجل واحنا في مارينا تحت سطح الميّه... "مش أنا كنت بكتب بلوغغغ برضه.... و كنّا عاملين حاجه اعتراضيه للثأر على المجتمع اسمها كلنا ليلى".....

حذاري يا ليلى حذاااري... نهار أبوكي مش فايت!!

الظريف برضه في الموضوع انضمام أصوات غير مصريه للموضوع... العدوه المصريه فعلا فتّاكه.

طب بقولكم ايه يا هوانم جاردن شيتي...

ايه رأيكم في قضية الشرق الأوسط؟

ايه رأيكم في اللى حصل في العراق و أفغانستلن و لبنان و فلسطين؟

ولاّ الكلام ده مقرف و محزن بالنسبه للكائنات الرقيقه أمثالكم؟

ايه رأيكم في برامج الحزب الوطني و ايه رأيكم في...

ولاّ بلاش... تلاقيكم مش عارفين حاجه غير اللى بتقولها أبله منى الشاذلي الله يمسّيها بالخير.

حاجه تحرق الدم فعلا...

حسّس ياد يا عتريس... حسّس

البطحه كبرت و بقى ليها صوت.

كلنا بطحه... و بطحه للجميع




تابعت مؤخرا حاجه ظريفه جدا... البنات عايزين حقوق تانيه يا رجاله. كنت عارف اني لو قلت لأي حد الكلام ده حيت### من الضحك. الغريب في الموضوع اني اكتشفت ان معظمهم منضمين لنفس الحزب العبقري ده.

و سبحان الله

لو أمي قرت الكلام ده حتقول لي دع الخلق للخالق يا عتريس.

بس أنا مش قادر يا ماما.. أنا مضطر اسفا اني أقول اللى عندي.


البنات عندهم ايه يا حسرة... دول غلابه

1. مش دول برضه اللى بياخده نص فرص عمل الرجاله لو لابسين قصير ولا بيتكلموا و اللبانه في بقهم ولاّ حتى صوتهم ناعم؟

2. ولاّ يا عيني عالماتيرنيتي لييف... كلمة السرّ = سفروووت. كل ما واحده تزهق من الشغل تقوللك طب ما أنا أخلفلي عيّل يأعدني سنه حلوه في البيت. تيجي تفتح السيره تقوم رزعالك بّقّين غن عملية الولاده و الحمل. يا أخي مش كده يعني. ده أنا بيطلع عيني في الشغل من كتر الحريم اللى واخده أجازة وضع. و ببقى حاطت ايدي على قلبي أول ما واحده تقول أنا دايخه و محتاجه أروح. بيخلص الموضوع اني ببقى أنا و دكرين تانيين شايلين الشغل كله. و نص البنات في ماتيرنيتي و النص التاني لازم يروح بدري.... يروّحوا بدري ليييه؟ عشان بنات طبعا. لو شغلوا رجاله بس كانت والله مشكله البطاله دي اتحلت.

3. و يا عيني بقى في الجامعه و الدكاتره اللى تشرح الموضوع مرّه و اتنين و تلاته لو بنت هي اللى طلبت عشان غبيه. انما لو ولد اللى سأل ال دكتور يقول له "هات الكارنيه"

4. و مش البنت برضه اللى بتقعد معززه مكرمه متمكيجه في بيتها و الراجل هو اللى بيروح يتقدم و يعرق و يركّز في كلامه؟ مش الراجل هو اللى بيعد متراقب كأنه أسامه بن لادن في الصالون الشيك بتاع الضيوف اللى عمركم ما قعدتم فيه؟

5. و مش البنت برضه هي اللى بتقول "أنا شبكتي مش حتقل عن مبلغ و قدره" اللى هو كل اللى حيلت الشب الغلبان اللى نفسه يدخل دنيا؟ دنية ايه دي بقت دنيا فقر.

6. ولاّ الفرح اللى في فندق الجراند حياء... و كل ده عشان صحبتها فرحها كان في دار الدفاع الجوّي. متموّتوا بعض و تريّحونا

7. حتقوللك بس لأ.. دلوقتي كل حاجه بالنص. يعني عايزه تفهّميني يا بت انتي انك دافعه حاجه من جيبك؟ ماهو بابي هو كمان ندمان ان خلفتو جت فشنك.

و قريت حاجه ظريفه جدا... واحده دمها خفيف بتقول عايزين نشرب شيشه و سجاير و نرجع البيت وش الفجر و نعاكس ولاد و نصاحب و نهيص. و نلبس قصير. يعني احنا يعني اللى ماشيين في الشارع بالمايوه؟ طب بزمتكوا أرد أقوللها ايه دي؟ مش قاااادر أرد. طب متيجوا نفتحها عالبحري و نقول الألفاظ اللى بالي بالك لبعض بقى.

مش هي دي الحريه اللى انتم عايزنها؟ حد يشيل البت دي من قدامي.

امشوا اتلموا في بيوتكم بقى مليتو البلد.

كل اللى أقدر أقوله هو أن المحترم محترم لنفسه. ولد أو بنت.

متجوش تمسكوا الصيع و تقولوا عايزين من ده يا بابي.

بابي زهق من الصنف اللى ياخد و ينكر ده.

كفايه #@%$# بقى


و يخرب بيتك يا مصر


و اللى على راسه بطحه يحسس عليها... ولا التحسيس عيب؟

كلها سنتين و تحللوه

Saturday, September 09, 2006

هاليلووويا جيمبووو


بسلامته نائب وزير الخارجيه الأمريكي معزوم على اجتماع الحزب الوطني القادم.

يا ترى ليه؟

يمكن علشان نفسهم يدوّقوه المحشي بتعنا؟

الموولوووخيييه جايز؟

يا ترى بطنه حتستحمل؟

ولاّ يمكن لزوم ال... نفاق؟

ولاّ يمكن حيتنحّى مبارك عن العرش و يقوم بتزكية مسيو جيمبو، القائد الفعلي و التنفيذي؟

و ساعتها بقى يبقى الشاب الأمريكي "ولش" شاهد على التزكيه؟

و ساعتها يبقى هو رئيس الحزب؟

و كلها كام يوم و يتنحّى الرئيس و يتقدم رئساء الأحزاب الحاليين للترشيح لمنصب رئيس الجمهورية.

و طبعا حييجي أمثال أبو طربوش و الواد بتاع ورشة صيانة التلفزيونات و الوليّه دي بتاعة الغاء الرقابه على الأفلام القبيحه و يرشحوا نفسهم هم كمان.

و هاااليلوووويا لمسيو جيمي

أنا برضه سمعت من بتاع الفراخ ان فيه ثلاثه بس بيستوردوا فراخ مدبوحه من البرازيل علشان رمضان (كل سنه و انتم طيبين):

الباشا أحمد عز للتسليخ

الباشا الطويل أحمد نظيف

الباشا الكبير قوي قوي قوي مسيووو جيمبووو

و الله أعلم..

و اللهم احفظنا...

و يا عيني على جمالك يا مصر










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