Monday, March 27, 2006

Another dose of sopranos

First, let me apologize for not being able to post my review about the second episode of sopranos, simply because it was boring and was turning into a soap opera thingie. I mean come on. Tony is still in a comma, wife (carmella) is crying, kids crying, the whole mob is in a sad atmosphere. What is this? The bold and the beautifull? Come on already, and lets get to business. Geeeeeees.

Anyways, the third episode started and Tony is still in a comma. He is trying to wake up, but can’t. Two of the captains get a great deal. They chase this hespanic gang, and baaaam, they scavenge a million plus dollars. What a catch. They made a big mess of course, three gangsters dead.

They approach the acting boss, Tony’s right hand “Sel” and he orders them to split it half, and each has to give carmella 100K. They didn’t like it, but the boss had his saying. He himself was admitted to the hospital for breathing problems. Eyes are open, and the second guys in command are already talking about the life after Tony. What kind of pigs these guys are? Tony is still alive, can’t they see that?

More sadness, and more soap opera. Half way into this episode, and I’m already threatening to stop watching the sopranos. Lets get back to the good old days, more blood and more killing.

Anthony is demanding a screen writer to write a script about an idea of a movie in anthony’s mind. It’s about a mafia captain, who is killed, then he comes back from death and baaam, revenge time. Then a meeting of potential investors, who happen to be all mafia lords. The last thing mafia lords are good at, is being investors in the movie business.

Then came the good stuff. Pauly goes in and sees Tony. Tony’s daughter tells him to be positive, and the dude can not. He see’s tony and he goes crazy. Then he starts yacking and yacking. The machines in Tony’s room starts beebing, then nurses come running. Tony;s seem to get out of the comma. In his comma, he is dreaming that he is told that he is going home, but he has to let go of the suit case he is carrying. This seems to symbolizes that Tony is not able to let go of this comma situation.

Let go Tony, let it go. Time to go home. Tony is awake now, and the whole hospital is in joy (and so is bo3bo3). Although the two captains didn’t wanna give carmella the 200K, but now they have to, and they do. Tony is up, and he will be back next episode. Bottom line, Tony is back, and so is the great soprano’s show.

Did I mention to you guys and gals that I’m a chicken?

Ok, so hareega dared me to answer some questions, tough questions, and I gotta admit it, I am a chicken, not even a rooster, yep, just a plain old chicken. Dude, hareega, I have to chicken out, and this is not because I’m scared of the questions, but dude, I’m a married man, and married men in america do fear their wives. Right? Come on guys, say yes, don’t leave me hanging alone in the dark. Will someone please say "your right bo3bo3"? damn it, your no good guys.
Although I am a chicken in many occasions, but I love to flirt with the red lines, only with limitations. I think that there is an art for such actions, and correct me if I’m wrong.
For example, you can say things that are out of those lines, but you say them in the right manner. Manner like leaving the reader understand what your trying to say, but without leaving him/her with any proof that this is what you meant. Similar to the art of bala gafyeh. You always leave the reader convinced that you meant the "gafyeh part", yet, you didn’t give him/her a clear indication, or any criminating statement that may incriminate you.
I told you it’s an art, a wicked art it is.
So hareega dude, I confess, puck puck puckeeeeeeeek.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

A lost chapter from the dark side

So there I was walking on a street called "colorado ave". I don’t know how I got here. I mean I have no recollection how I ended up on that street. "Where is my car" I started wondering. Couldn’t find it. So I kept walking and walking……and still walking. Then I saw this beautiful woman walking in the opposite direction. I starred at her, with blood boiling inside of my body. She smiled at me as she passed me. "That’s it" I said to my self. I stopped, turned around, and walked to her. "Hi there, my name is bo3bo3, do u mind if I walked with you?" I asked. She agreed.
We then walked together toward her place. Walked upstairs to her apartment. She opened the door, and we sat on the couch. I kept hearing those voices inside of my mind telling me to simply do it, just do it. Blood inside my veins is flowing very hard. I am sweating, for the lust inside of me is overwhelming my desires. She went to the kitchen to get a drink for herself, and I really wanted a drink. But my drink is different.
You can do it bo3bo3 I kept telling myself. She came back after she changed her cloths and got into a more comfortable cloths. Her skin was so beautiful, as if she just came back from the tanning booth. Her neck looked like a part of heaven that I never imagined. The eyes are so magical. Her lips were wet, and so red. I examined all of her body, and it was a touch of heavens. That silky nightgown and those legs….oh bo3bo3, how could you resist such temptations.
I couldn’t resist anymore. Suddenly, the desires to feed on her overwhelmed me. I just can never overlook such beauty. I am thirsty. My lips are so dry, and nothing would satisfy them except her skin. So I got close to her, rapped my right warm gently on the back of her neck. My left hand just reached to her waist. I asked her to dance with me, and she agreed. The music of black Sabbath is playing on the background. I changed it to "the jungle" for guns&roses. Raised the volume. I reached with my lips to her soft golden neck. She said stop, but it’s too late now. Stop she screamed, but I couldn’t hear her words as the voices inside of my mind were louder and louder. Welcome to the jungle, my jungle, darling.
She tried to run away but there was no where to run. "Let me take you to my world, and you’ll thank me later" I said. She cried, begging for mercy, but this bo3bo3 is not listening. I held her tight as she laid on her back on the floor. She seems to give up the fight, finally. I held her hands as she was laying,, then I looked up, opened my mouth, hauled, then looked down at this terrified woman, and quickly sank my teeth into her neck.
I felt the blood flowing, oooh that warm sweet blood running from her into my veins. I was too hungry, and demanded more. I kept draining her blood, she resisted, then slowly, she gave up. I never tasted such sweet blood like this one.
When I was done, I sat beside her. She was out, no movement whatsoever. Then I leaned to her right ear, and whispered "rise again oh sweet one". She opened her eyes, got up, looked straight at me asking "where am I?". I told her "welcome to my world oh darling for I promise you an everlasting happiness beside me, and an imortal life where you will never ache no more". She came to me, hugged me and said "thank you my lord, for what life I would even ask for that is better than this one".
Cursed I am. To live by the shadows of the nights, stalking victims to feed on.
Cursed I am, for love I still seek, compassionate I am deprived from.
Cursed I am for my life can only be, by the death of others.
Cursed I am, that as long as I live, I shall never see the light.
Cursed I am for death I can never ask for, but shall come on to me.
Cursed I am, to live forever, a vampire from the dark world.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Honesty is not always the right approach

On many occasions, I hear my friends tell me "bo3bo3 dude, you are way too much a politician". To be honest, I don’t see myself a politician when dealing with others. I mean the term "politician" bears so much corruption in it that it scares me to hear it. So what drived those people to look at me (or you) as a politician?
The claim is that you have to be honest when dealing with others. Honesty is not always the correct way when approaching some matters. I mean do you visualize what would my wife do to me if I said "honey, this pants is at least one size smaller than what would fit you"? I maybe a dead man walking right after such comment.
I believe that we sometimes have to "sweeten" the answer to first prevent a catastrophe (well, not to this extreme, I exaggerated here) and two to maybe put a smile on someone’s face. Is it worth it? To see a smile on a face is it worth "massaging" the truth?
When people tell me that I act like a politician, I sense that they are hinting that I escape telling the truth to satisfy an individual, or certain people. Believe me I’m not scared (except from mrs bo3bo3), but rather careful not to offend or hurt the feelings of those around me. 5 years of marriage taught me that honesty is not always the right approach. I learned to say things like "honey, I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman than you in my entire life" and maybe "it’s ok dude, we all make such mistakes" even though it may have been a severe mistake. Gotta give someone a hope, that I learned.
So, and as of today, I’m struggling to defend my approach and answer the criticism of being a politician. I simple can not be honest all the time, and there are certain incidents, we may have to massage or manipulate our answers for a good cause, and that is to put a smile on someone’s face. If you knew your dad is gonna die in 2 days as the doctors said, wold you concentrate on how to make him happy these two days, or slam him with the bitter truth of his death?

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

On her day

Let me tell you ladies and gentelmen about her story. The day she was born, her dad wasn’t as happy as he would’ve been if she was a boy instead. True that he accepted her into his home, but in his mind, he is thinking "inshalla we’ll do better next time, and have a boy". As she was growing up, she was always reminded that boys get away with more stuff than what she would. You can’t look from the window. You can’t wear shorts. You can’t swim. You can’t rais your voice. You can’t hit your brother back, even if he severely beat you up. Yada yada yada.
Then she became mature, and her body grew and the signs of a woman are beginning to show on her. Now she has to be careful what she says, and what she does. A boy flirted with her while she was walking back to school, and all she did was tell him "get lost" and move on her way. Yet, her brother heard of that and he beats her up just because she spoke to that boy. She overcomes so much discrimination, and now she is done with school.
It’s time to marry she is told. So her dad and mom chose for her the man that she has to continue life with. If she is lucky enough, the man won’t degrade her or beat her up. She works day and night, and she is constantly reminded that her happiness is tied up with his happiness. If he is happy, then that’s her happiness. She may not enjoy the bed with him a lot, and on many occasions, he doesn’t care if she enjoyed or not, just as long as he is satisfied.
Then she grows to be a mother, and go through the hardships of birth and staying up in many nights to care for her baby (s).
If we look at our mothers, and visualize what they had to endure on the course of their lives, then maybe we’ll understand why islam says that "heavens is truly underneath the feet of mothers". To this day, I am yet to find any person who is more giving than this woman. So on this mothers day, I pray to my Lord that my mother, my sister, my wife are happy women, and I salute them for being simply women, great women.

Monday, March 13, 2006

Soprano returns with a big bang

So as I was in the hype of anticipating the last season of sopranos. I was making sure that I have everything ready.

Coffee, check,

cookies, check,

surround system on, check,

warning the wife that I wanna be left alone for a whole 30 minutes, check, yes check check check.

I’m ready. The clock is ticking. 8:45 and my eyes glued to the TV. Wife tells me "don’t finish the coffee and the cookies before it even starts" and I yell "leave me alone woman"

9:00 comes, and I’m suddenly in my domain. Soprano’s first episode starts with a bang. The death of two rats. The advice of Tony to his son "I don’t care how close you are. In the end, your friends are going to let you down. Family, they’re the ones you can depend on". Strong words coming from the guy who’s his mom and uncle tried to assassinate him in the first season. So much loyalty this guy has.

Tony bought his wife a new porch (cayan) and she is excited showing it off to friends. Johnny sack is in jail while Tony is trying to ensure an ever-lasting peace between his family, and Johnny’s family. Things get worst.

Sadely, and after lecturing his son about the importance of family, and after listening to his shrink’s advice that it’s his family that tried to kill him, Tony goes to his uncle top take care of him. He refused to send him to an elderly home. He decided that it’s a disrespect to do that.
Tony walks in his ailing uncle’s house. The uncle has a big time psycho problems. Tony starts cooking for uncle, and then, the big bang. The uncle comes downstairs, shoots tony, and runs upstairs and hides in the clauset crying like a baby no knowing what he has done. Tony is screaming calling his uncle "call 911" but uncle is no where near. Tony struggles toward the phone, dials 911, then falls on his back. He looks like dying. Could that be? Wow.
Bo3Bo3 is screaming "get up man, get up u son of the $$$, get up Tony, dude, get up u $$$$$$$$###$%#$#$.

Now, one of two things may arise from this. If Tony dies, then there will be a big struggle in the soprano family. Too many captains, and they never liked each others. That would be something. The second option is that Tony survives this scare, and that will influence his life as a mobster and as a family man. It will affect the whole season, this year.

Whatever it is, the soprano’s returned with a big bang in the first episode, and it’s gonna be a hell of a season. See you guys next Monday after the second episode.

Saturday, March 11, 2006

A new chapter in life

A new chapter in my life is about to begin. I have accepted a new job, in another city. The new job is like a dream job for me, exactly what I've been wishing for lately to get out of my routine. almost 20% increase in salary. Better benefits, and on top of all that, it's in research area, and thats where I really wanna be. I wasn't born to be a lab rat, nor a fire fighter always on call to fix customers problems and processes. So yes, I'm happy.

Yet, change brings fear with it. The fear of the unknown, the future, the relocation process. I'm gonna be deprived from my beloved wife and family for about 3 monthes, till they join me after I buy the new house and that sourt of things. Change breings fear, as it always carries (it refering to change) with it dilemma. A dilemma how to settle down, in the new job and the new community. How to make new friends all over again. The fear of being lonely for three monthes. Sleeping alone on a bed after being with someone for 5 years. Life, the lonely life. It's been along time since I was lonely, and it wasn't a good experience.

So the next few monthes, I may look different, sound different, or even behave different. True that they call me bo3bo3, but trust me, there is nothing in me that reflects any bo3bo3 behavior.

Staying in a hotel for 3 monthes, eating food that is no way near the good home cooking my beloved wife cooks for me, and on top of all, not having the luxury of feeling her warm hand touching my shoulders comforting me when I'm down. That, my good friends, is what I'll miss the most. But I am a believer, I strongly believe in the almight God, and I believe that he is looking over me. With that, I know I'll manage hrough harships of life, for his love is the ultimate love.

A new chapter of my life is about to begin, so buckle up fellow jordanian bloggers for there is no way knowing what this bo3bo3 may write when he is lonely. I think my latest post "erotic thoughts" will look like a children story compared with what's to come (bala gafyeh). God bless us all, and wish me luck in my new life.


Friday, March 10, 2006

The final countdown, Soprano's are back

I am a sopranoaholic, yes I admit it. I love the show, with all what it represents or tries to reflect. I love the power struggle, and sticking up to the family. I love the fact that a man can be so evil, so powerfull, yet, wouldn't hesitate to cry after he shoots his cousin. Thats Toney alright, I just love the dude.

So it's friday night, exactly 46 hours till the start of the first episode of the sopranos on HBO. The sad part is the fact that this is gonna be the final season of such show. Does that mean Toney is gonna die? Or go to jail? I'd hate to see that.

The soprano's is not about mafia, no my good friends. there is more to it. There are so many things we can learn from such show. It's not about violence or blood thirsty heartless killers. It's about the power structure and the decisions that a boss has to make to protect the rest of the family, even if that meant turning his wife, the snitch so be murdered for talking to the feds.

I am a sopranoaholic, yes I admit it. Many of you may not have a clue of what show I'm talking about, but for the few who follow the show, hang in there, it's gonna be a rough ride, and I predict a not so happy ending, damn the director. Thanks for reading.

Sunday, March 05, 2006

Blogging Dilemma

This is gonna sound weird a little. I'm fairly new to this blogging buisness, less than 4 months so far. I learned that blogging is like poetry, or writing a novel, sort of. Typically, a post is triggered by an event, or some sort of feelings toward a specific incident or feelings. How so?

You may read a specific news, and you react to it, and then decide to write about it. Political blog? hummm

You may read a story, or a novel, and you decide to put your thoughts about it and hence, you formulate a post.

You may have some sort of feeling, anger, love, or any feeling, and then you decide to write about those feelings. A poem, or a simple post to reflect how you feel. After all, your blog is your own word, your mirror of ideology, feelings, or your reading habbits.

But sometimes there is nothing to write about. Nothing to inspire your fingers to simply log on and let your mind roam your own domain, or mirror as we said earlier. You then try to make up somthing, anything, but with no luck. So you decide to wait for the right moment, and the right incident that will trigger your mind to reflect.

Thats where the dilemma starts. How can you creat the right atmosphere and the right mood to write about something, anything that is not related to an incident or feelings? It's like writing a novel. You sit down, gather a topic you wanna write about, and then gather your thoughts and ideas.

My dilemma is that I'm a reactive person. Something has to trigger me to write. 4 weeks so far and I'm yet to write a poem. I don't mean writing it in my blog, but simply writing it on my poem notes that I keep. This is new to me as I'm always quick to set the mood and enjoy my poetic side.

I hate to be a reactive person. Why do I need to wait for an honor crime to write about it? Why do I need for a mood to be in the mood of writing about anything? Well, wish I know.

Ok, which one of you guys and gals said "it's time to refill that prozac bottle of yours bo3bo3"