Question of the Day: Why do babies make us do the most absurd things?
After days of being surrounded by my beautiful nieces and nephews, I started to wonder at what they had put me and my family through, specifically, the sound effects that we made that more or less belonged to a zoo, the jumping, crawling, hopping, balancing and other physical acts that were performed for the sole purpose of receiving a single smile or laugh of approval.
Of course it was worth it, because their pleased response made us laugh even more, as if we accomplished the impossible, as if this baby is the best of the worst critics of comedy and comedic acts done by relatives and a few courageous family friends who don't think twice about shrieking like a tortured squirrel to see the little tot wiggle and giggle in return.
Whatever this is, this primal instinct to delight a baby by such sounds and gestures, it crosses cultures, countries and time. Whenever their with their babies, mature and sane adults exert abnormal vocal and physical energy and/or movement just to make the kid laugh. And no matter how deep a man's voice is, he always manages to take it to a higher and softer pitch.
That's another question: Why do we always have a higher pitch when we're entertaining babies? Our voice is always softer and tad bit shrill. That's the case here when we do the Kuwaiti peek-a-boo (well that's what I'll call it here), "Tiyaaaa!" or other playful sayings.
Strangely enough, it feels like I stopped blogging for about six months, not one. I really did want to write something sooner. I had all these curious thoughts running in my head and I always wanted to sit down and type out a little paragraph and end the post with a few melodic clinchers. But no matter how interesting (or so I think) my random topics of discussion are, my excellence in procrastination outdoes my want to blog. But here I am, so hello again.
I'd like to give a shout out to my good friend Fee. If it weren't for you I'd probably settle for writing out a post for New Years. But why wait right?
Before I bring up any cutesy topics (they're probably going to come up in the following posts), I want to get one thing off my chest, and that is the so-called artist called Rihanna. Now, I do listen to the radio. When I do, I usually tune into:
- BBC: I love it when people say "BBC" in different dialects; I get a kick out of mimicking them for some reason. Although I like their programs and interviews (some are very interesting and can get quite heated), I'm trying to make a habit out of knowing what's going on in this world of ours instead of getting my news from relatives and friends by listening to World News.
- 99.7: I cannot get over how sadly outrageous Linda is. I have a feeling that one morning, we'll hear this melancholy nobody announce her passing away. She's been there for so long I won't be surprised if she starts to mold.
- Mix FM 98.4: Sometimes I listen to the morning show. There are three people on that thing: Talal who can get a little bit annoying because he overdoes the whole thick American accent thing (agool…latitqa9ab), the witty Egyptian chick Sandi who's the closest thing to being a legit RJ and the most annoying thing on earth, Rasha. Can anyone tell me why she's even on the show? Who the heck hired her? I mean, apart from being lame, dull and unoriginal, both her English and Arabic skills are below average. Again, why? I sometimes listen to Osama's show, "El Kha6ar Bel Letter." I confess that I sent them about a total of ten text messages but I never got on that darned show. I really do think I can win! Oh well…
If I'm not listening to the above or my iPod's precious music, I turn the dial to the stations my parents usually listen to, either old Arabic music or talk shows.
Anyhow, back to the matter at hand: my resentment toward Rihanna.
I couldn't really understand her rise to fame. For one, her voice is exactly the same in all her songs; this boring, robotic monotone sound that always made me flinch in annoyance whenever I come across it. And her style – or lack thereof – is equally as annoying. There's nothing fierce about it. It's not stylish; it's odd, outlandish and doesn't suit her figure. Case in point the photographs below. But what really aggravates me is her lyrics, especially that atrocious song of hers, "Take a Bow." I am not going to contaminate my blog by placing an MP3 of it, but you can listen to it on this YouTube link, just in case you're curious.
I remember the first time I heard it, I scowled at my radio and kept on saying, "What is that?! What is that?!" I hope you'll know what I mean if you read a major part of the song's lyrics below:
You look so dumb right now,
standing outside my house, trying to apologize. You’re so ugly when you cry. Please, just cut it out…
You're so ugly when you cry? What the hell is that?
Grab your clothes and get gone. You better hurry up before the sprinklers come on.
Sprinklers? I swear I heard that and I kept saying, "What? What?" I really do think that I can do a much better job than whoever wrote this poopy song of hers that's for sure.
Talkin’ about, girl, I love you, you’re the one.
This just looks like the re-run.
Please, what else is on (END)
No wonder she got beat up...
This is her my-scarf-matches-my-glasses look...
I know that this is supposed to be a haute couture piece but it ain't haute or hot. Since when did papery dresses make their way into the mainstream? And what happened to going for something that's actually nice on you? Here's a word of advice: If it's not "you," then it's not for you!
Anyhow, here's a good and healthy dose of real old school music. Enjoy folks.
Yesterday night, I entered my bathroom only to find a very dark cockroach on the white wall opposite of me. It was just sitting there, at knee-height, waiting for God knows what. Of course, I panicked. After all, it was a cockroach, a thing that feeds on feces and other unmentionables. Although I was a bit dazed and frazzled, I did manage to pick up an appropriate weapon of choice: an old, good sturdy shoe with a very flat bottom. Cockroaches can be tricky. People assume that any old shoe or slipper will obliterate them at the first strike. But they're wrong. The shoe or slipper has to be slightly heavier than your normal flip flop, otherwise you'd have to beat at the creature twice if not thrice. Plus, the heavier the shoe, the better your aim will be.
Anyhow, back to the scene. I quickly went in there, concentrated for a second and attempted to throw my shoe with the bottom of the pair facing the wall (read: the oblivious cockroach). I failed miserably and yelped as I saw the roach dancing down the wall and scurrying to the nearest safe haven which it soon found and stayed put at.
The thing that I hate about these nasty things is that they always manage to hide in locations that make for uncompromising strikes. In this case, the roach sought refuge right behind the leg of a table and the wall. I had two choices: I either squish the roach hard with the front of my shoe (and possibly turn the shoe's tip around a few times to make sure that the bugger's dead) or again try to aim well and hope for the best of the roach's worst. I went for the latter since it involved less guts, on my and the roach's side.
I hovered above the thing for about five minutes. I concentrated so much that I started thinking of things totally irrelevant to what was about to happen. Anyhow, I breathed in and out, focused and BAM! My strike turned the roach on its slippery, crippled back and for five seconds it wiggled and waggled its feet in the air.
BAM!The strike had flipped the roach back on its feet. And that was the end of the cockroach that appeared in my bathroom on All Hallows' Eve.
Since I've been a lousy blogger this year, and since one of my personal reasons to blog is music-based, here are some neat, alternative wonky songs...a little bit of mellow, electro and tender sass... a little bit of sweet, new tunes to hear out...
MP3's..
Bat for Lashes - Daniel this song's on repeat...lovely, beautiful...
Golden Boy and Miss Kittin - Rippin' KittinI put my iPod on shuffle one morning before heading to work and this started to play. It's mellow, but it sure as heck woke me up
Last week, I got a call from MUNCH, the nifty little restaurant that's located on the bottom floor of Dar Al-Awadhi Mall, Sharq, Kuwait. I was asked if I was willing to give MUNCH's catering service a try and in return, write a post about the whole experience.
I was psyched. I was going to do two things I love: write a critical post and enjoy free food. I've been to MUNCH only once; I'm not well-informed about the nature of their food and menu's content. Nevertheless, I thought it would be neat to try something new.
MUNCH's crew arrived at the door right on time. They swiftly made themselves home with their grill, cutting board and all. All we needed to have was plates and cutlery.
First up were the small margarita and pepperoni pizzas, both with the most amazing buffalo mozzarella I tasted in Kuwait. What surprised me was how light and greaseless they both were. I'm more or less a health-conscious eater; I usually avoid pizza and opt for a dish that's borderline Atkins. But the pizzas' intense freshness put my dietary thoughts to rest, which is probably the reason why I wolfed down seven slices (and amused myself with the fun stretchy nature of the fantabulous cheese).
Next was, in my opinion, the centerpiece of everything: the lamp chops. Now, the only lamp chops my mouth watered for are the ones my father grills at the chalet. But these six, zesty babies had something else that I love: they were crispy on the outside and oh-so-juicy in the inside. In other words, they were made just the way I like 'em.
After the lamp chops were wiped out, the mini-burgers came along with the right amount of onions, ketchup, mayo and of course, my favorite, melted cheddar cheese. The thing that I liked about the burgers was that the bread that was used wasn't bready. Whether it's a burger or sandwich, I always opt for a softer kind of bread that wouldn't overwhelm the burger/sandwich's contents.
The next platter was a handful of steak tacos which is basically sliced up steak meat, avocado salsa and spicy sauce all wrapped up in warm tortilla bread. I like my tacos hot; a dash of Tabasco sauce gave me the punch that I wanted.
Before we nibbled on our dessert, we were served the last meaty dish of the night: Wagyu steak. Although the lamp chops were my favorite dish of the night, I have to say that you can never go wrong with quality-packed Wagyu beef. A little bit of gravy on the side would've been a good side to have, but in general, the actual steak itself, its tenderness, taste and feel was quite exceptional.
For dessert, we had a fun and delicious mini-Nutella and strawberry pizza. I prefer to counter meat-heavy meals with something fruity, and the miniature pizza did the job.
In summary, I think that MUNCH's catering service is best for people who look for quality-oriented, customized, convenient and wholesome,multi-course gourmet food that has a flavorsome touch of home cooked meals. If I ever had a dinner gather of eight to twenty people, MUNCH would be my go-to place. Instead of having an ordinary meal, I'd get to pick and choose between what I want and how I want it from my own private chef.
You can take a look at the menu and pricelist below. Speaking of the menu, I did have my fair share of input directed to MUNCH. I suggested they have salads, different sides of gourmet chips and a larger selection of desserts to which MUNCH replied that they do have all three. Their full catering menu offers nine salads (each serve about 8 people), an assortment of crispy chips, ten mini-desserts and a variety of canapés that are all available by dozen orders.
And concerning my comment about having sauce on the side of the Wagyu, MUNCH promptly replied that they're currently working on a diverse range of sauces and dips that will complement their meat which is another factor that I liked about the restaurant; although their menu isn't aimed for those who are pinching and scraping, MUNCH's prices give you your money's worth with its strict adherence to using only high-quality, gourmet meat.
For three months, Flat Eric was on TV, bumping along to Quentin Dupieux aka Mr. Oizo's (pronounced Wah-zoh) famed electro house track "Flat Beat." The quirky yellow puppet was soon revealed to be part of Levi's jeans campaign. Sales shot through the roof and the super track lived on. Check out a few of the commercials below:
"Hey, remember the time we took a picture right herea few months ago?" "Yeah I do!" I replied, "Want to take another one right now?" I asked him. "Okay!"
She stared that green fire into me. I felt myself reddening slightly, not from embarrassment, but from shame, that she'd said so easily the very words, I like you, that I wouldn't let myself say to her.
'You do?' I asked, trying to make the question sound more casual than it was. I watched her lips close to a thin smile.
'Yes, you're a good listener. That's dangerous, because it's so hard to resist. Being listened to - really listened to - is the second-best thing in the world.'
'What's the first best thing?'
'Everybody knows that. The best thing in the world is power.'
'Oh is it?' I asked, laughing. 'What about sex?'
'No. Apart from the biology, sex is all about power. That's why it's such a rush.'
I laughed again.
'And what about love? A lot of people say that love is the best thing in the world, not power.'
'They're wrong,' she said with terse finality. 'Love is the opposite of power. That's why we fear it so much.'"
