Ain't My Day. It's Written.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008 at 03:38PM | By Bojacob You know, life has its ways of telling you that if things are bad, it can make it worse with a snap of a finger.
I woke up at 7am, remembering I needed to go to the cemetery at 9. I excused myself from work and decided to dress up correctly. It's been a while since I wore the traditional Kuwaiti garments. I hoped the maid knew how to iron a qetra.
I passed time by daydreaming. I'm not even sure what I was daydreaming about, but I remember smiling the whole way. It was 8:20, so I believed it was time to get ready. I wore the qetra, and thought it looked a bit weird with all that starch. I asked her to iron a new one. What's a 5 minute delay?
Once that was over, I looked in the mirror and evaluated my appearance. The amount of jokes I could have come up with were endless. Something along the lines of "don't let the qetra get caught in the ceiling fan." After 5 minutes of senseless joke making and unusual laughter, I decided that I better go.
I got in the car, and naturally, my head hit the top of the door, sending my egaal sprawling on the floor. I picked up the infernal thing and took another 3 minutes adjusting my appearance, trying not to look too ridiculous. Once that was over, I broke my Audi into a gallop and rode for the cemetery.
Traffic was beastly. The 4th ring road was completely blocked up, so I thought I'd just take the 5th instead. I had my trusty GPS with me incase I lost my way and headed to Antarctica by mistake, which happens daily anyway. I managed to enter the 5th ring road, and drove onwards. The slowpokes in the middle and right lanes began to aggravate me with their annoying braking, thus I decided to take the left lane, as it seemed to be moving quite well. Not for long though. Traffic came to a halt. Cars weren't moving, such is my luck. I sighed and stopped, hoping I won't be late.
Something caught my eye in my rear-view mirror. It was a car, going quite fast. So fast that I think it has to hit the brakes, like now. It didn't.
A sense of urgency shot up. I had to do something to get out of the way, but I didn't have time. I had to do something. I hit the car horn, a feeble attempt that did nothing. I saw the driver, just now realizing what was going on, and what's about to happen. I saw her mouth open wide in pure terror, probably screaming, as did her car scream when she hit the breaks full on. It was far, far too late.
Her car slammed into mine with the loudest of cracks. My vision flashed white as I believe the back of my head hit the seat's headrest. I was disoriented, unsure of what had happened, while my ears were still ringing from the sound of the impact.
I started regaining my wits and moved my car to the emergency lane. I wondered how bad it was and if the lady was ok, so I looked into the rearview mirror to adjust my qetra. However, there was no qetra, no egaal. Just my white gahfeya sitting on my head. The things flew off, so I took the damn gahfeya off and got out of the car.
The front of her Mercedes 1997 car was pretty much destroyed. Her radiator blown and leaking water all over. I guess this rated as a pretty bad accident, and my car was probably messed up as well. Still, I hoped the lady was ok, who also seemed to have a boy with her as well.
As I passed my car, I took a look and it wasn't as bad as I thought at all. At least, not as bad as her car was. Here's a pic of it now.
Not bad.
I looked again at the lady, and I was surprised to actually find a police jeep there, with two cops jumping out. I walked over to her.
Me: Are you all-
Lady: I.. I don't- I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!
Her voice quaked with fear. She seemed on the verge of crying, and maybe she was, but her sunglasses covered up everything including her cheek.
Me: It's fine, it's fine. Relax. Are you ok? Hurt?
Lady: I'm so sorry! My son told me about- I'm sorry!
It didn't look like a good time to talk at all. Even if it was, the two cops being unusually hyper started pushing the car to get it to the emergency lane.
Policeman 1: PUSH!!
Policeman 2: COME PUSH!! TELL HER TO TURN LEFT!!
Me: Turn left, ok?
But the window was closed. Jeez.
Policeman 1: PUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSH!!!!!!
Me: All right, all right!
I got behind the car and pushed along with them. The lady didn't understand what was going on.
Policeman 2: LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEFT!
The cop was pointing frantically to the left. She turned the wheel all the way and we pushed until the car hit the 9abba, the short wall dividing the two roads.
Policeman 1: WHAT ARE YOU DOIIIIIIIING!!
The lady looked mortified. If this was a bad day for me, I think she's having one that's a lot worse.
Policeman 2: Ok listen, we're not responsible for traffic, but we called the guys responsible and they'll come help you with this.
Me: All right, so we just wait?
Policeman 2: Just wait.
And so they left. I've done this waiting game before, and it was never fun. I wondered if she was doing better and looked over to her car. She was on the phone, most likely talking to her husband to save her from all of this.
Whatever argument they might have had in the past, I think the hubby has a damn good chance of making things up now :) He can thank me later.
The story goes on, but I wrote too much already. I want to write the second part where Starsky and Hutch (two cops) try to help us. It was pretty hilarious.
I made many choices this morning. They are bold in the paragraphs above. This chain of decisions led up to this fate. Funny how if even one of the bolded statements above was removed from the equation, this never would have happened. Qaddar allah wa ma shaa'a fa3al. Today, it's just written that it ain't my day.
Ah well, law of averages states that I'm supposed to get into at least one accident per year. I just got mine, I should be good now for another year! Hoho!
The Bastard Dentist from Hell
Sunday, October 12, 2008 at 03:55AM | By Bojacob Me: Look, I know it's been a year since I had half my root canal done, I'm human after all! If there's no pain, I won't come! Simple!
Dentist: Hmph.
Me: Sigh, so how screwed am I?
Dentist: Big problem.
Me: You know, that makes me feel so nice and fuzzy inside...
*silence*
Me: It was a joke. Look, never mind. I just really really hate the injection. Go easy all right?
He rubs my gums with some fruity stuff that tasted good, but also made my mouth and throat go numb when I swallowed it. He then immediately took the needle and aimed for my mouth.
Me: Whoa, wait! Won't you wait until this takes effect? Come on doc, haha, give it a little time! This takes a bit for it to spread and numb the gums and stuff. Even though my throat is kinda too numb now that it's getting hard to breathe. Still, I feel it spreading its ... its ..numbificationer, or whatever. Hey, wait stop! Even Gandhi needed time from his dentist! If he had one that is. Hehe, that's a good one. What? It's a joke :) Get it?
Dentist: ...
Me: Ok [bleep] it, gimme all you got.
He smiled his toothy smile, as if to show them off and say "nya nya, I don't have any root canaaals!" He approached my mouth with the injection aimed and ready.
[Skip the gruesome scene]
Me: *groan*
I reach for the cup of water with a fizzling pill inside, feeling very violated. I could sue this guy for the sole reason of being a dentist. I never even understood why there was a pill in that damn cup anyway? It's not like it's hiding all the blood I'm drooling out. My lips couldn't contain the water in my mouth, and so my new Armani Exchange shirt now looks like something out of a crime scene. Looks pretty cool, actually!
Me: Hey .. thok .. thok why iv there a fill im vuh..
Dentist: Hm?
Me: vuck it, neva minv
I decided to just keep my mouth shut. What good it'll do to talk anyway? Ain't like the guy had any sense of humor. I looked into my pockets to check my mail from the iPhone and try to distract myself from the pounding gum. Then I wondered, why don't I just listen to a podcast while he works? I'm sure a little TWiT would do me good!
Me: thok, Can I liffen to thtuff while you wo .. wok .. wok....
Dentist: ...
Me: I affked you a quethsh .. queff ..
I couldn't even understand myself. It was like I was injected with a cow tranquilizer, if such a thing exists. Was he insinuating that I was a cow?! wtf, well then, I say he's a donkey. That thought alone brought me some measure of comfort. Didn't last long however, the man flashed his knives and drills in such an evil way that I could swear I was in a horror movie with a 94% on rotten tomatoes.
I decided to just friggin put my headphones on and lay back, listening to good ol' Leo and dvorak.org/blog. The doctor opened my mouth and started his ritual: Preparing my mouth as a sacrificial offering for his evil dentist gods.
It was pretty damn painful, as root canals go, but this whole podcast listening was actually helpful. As always, all good things come to an end. In my case, a brutal end.
Leo: So it's people who hate me?!
Dvorak: Maybe it's all those pyjamas for all you know.
Leo wasn't happy that his interview was buried on Digg. They were trying to figure out why.
The doctor opened my mouth a bit wider. There was that drill, a mirror, and a vacuum sucking thingie all in there at the same time. I tried not to think about it.
Leo: No no, I was wearing a smoking jacket and a smoking pipe. I thought I was quite distinguished looking, actually.
Dvorak: Maybe that's the reason it was banned.
Me: hahaHA... GAARG!!
I sat up, choking.
Me: COUGH, COUGH, HAAAACK!! Cough coughhhh.....
Dentist: Relax!!! What are you laughing about?!
Me: coughhh, it .. cough. He made ..*cough* .. a jhhhoke... joke.
Now that I remember, it wasn't all that funny either.
The dentist stared at me. Was I an unusual case? Hm. Anyhow, I laid back down again. I swallowed and tried to comprehend the irony of choking on my own tooth.
Dentist: Stay still. Please.
At least he said please. He continued working on my mouth as I kept still. Hmph, bossy dentists. Who does he think he is anyway? I'm the one in charge here. I bet this evil minion is wearing boxers with love hearts printed on them. Hah!
I smiled. I wondered how silly he'd look if I put a Superman cape on him. Haahaaahaaaha-
Dentist: This might hurt a little.
Me: Gurgle?
A sharp jolt shot through my jaw. My head snapped back at the sudden pain. A clear reminder that this heart-boxer-wearing-superman-cape-wrapping dentist was still boss around here.
Ass.
I realize this post is turning out to be quite long, so I'll cut it short: WHOLE THING HURT! Why, oh why do I wait until cavities reach my nerve? The amount of pain isn't worth it, at all! I couldn't leave the room without some amount of payback. I stood up after he was done, feeling dull throbs in my jaw.
Me: vank u voctor.
I stuck my hand out to shake his hand. I'll just squeeze his hand so hard and unleash all this pain upon him!
Dentist: Hmph.
He shook my hand. I grinned and started to squeeze, but suddenly felt searing pain shooting up my wrist, forcing my grip to loosen. I forgot my wrist was in pain because of all the crazy, intense drumming I did on Rock Band. I let his hand go, gritting my teeth and forcing a smile. Maybe I should just slap the insufferable bastard. Knowing my luck though, I'd probably break my hand as it hit his thick head blessed by some dentist god with three heads and three testicles.
I walked out of the room holding my jaw, glad it's all over. As I walked out, I saw a guy from work, sitting. Lord, no...
Wael: Bojacob!
Me: wawewrr!
Wael: ?
Me: waawweerr!!
Wael: Um, salamat! What are you doing here?
I really couldn't talk. I just shrugged and looked at him with sad eyes and droopy right lips. Was I drooling? I couldn't tell. I couldn't feel.
Wael: Ma tshoof shar. I'll see you tomorrow then?
At least he was understanding. I smiled (I think,) and moved to walk out of the clinic.
Wael: Bojacob?
Me: wbhuhh?
He pointed at his lip.
Wael: Um, there's something on your lip there.
I knew it. I walked to a mirror and saw my fat lip, along with blood seeping from the side of my mouth. I looked like I walked out of a boxing match, which was pretty cool! I kept the look and hurried home so I could get some sympathy from mom. I know she hides that incredible chocolate somewhere, and I'll be damned if I don't get any today!
Get your teeth done boys n girls :( Root canals aren't fun, at all. I've got 9 teeth to fix before they reach the point of no return. I'm trying to find the courage and a good doctor. Recommendations are welcome! (private, public, expensive, I don't care.)
May the Eid Happy Us All
Tuesday, September 30, 2008 at 08:37AM | By Bojacob Yes, there’s something wrong in the blog title, I know. I’ve lost too much sleep, therefore I have the right to sound as wrong as I want.
3eedkom imbarak :) And if it’s not Eid for you today, then 3eedkom imbarak bacher!
The amount of sophistication in kids now is quite mind boggling. One of the kids had a notepad and the names of all us uncles, with a little checkbox next to each one. The little freak was friggin doing accounting or something. Jeez, whatever happened to being pleasantly surprised?
I sneaked behind the kid and tapped his shoulder. He looked at me and feigned surprise as I pulled out my wallet.
“I shouldn’t be doing this, you’ve been annoying your parents lately haven’t you?” I said, hesitating.
“I’m very sorry. I kissed each parent’s head today.” He said. Of course, when would be a better day to kiss their heads?
“Here you go. 3eedik imbarak!” I gave him a nice round 10kd with a smile. He took it from my hand, smiled back at me and checked a little box next to my name.
“Just make sure not t… Hello? Kid?” I realized that my words were falling on deaf ears. I stopped myself when I saw him not paying attention anymore. He sat back in his chair and eyed the other uncles. He was done with me.
I hope you’ll remember that Eid al Ath7a is a few months away you little bastard! I’ve got you in my crosshairs! I was gonna do some Eid cuts anyway since the economy is dying! I’m sure the US can use my 10kd in their $700 billion rejected bailout! Or you know what? I’ll buy a PS3 game with that 10kd! Ok sure, I need to add a few more KD to get the game, but I’ll make sure it’s your favorite game and you won’t play it! In fact, I’ll play it right in front of your face and make sure to put a checkmark next to your name, which, by the way, is now mysteriously spelled “donkey.”
Grr..
frikkin kids.
Still, gotta love em :)
PS: Never “try” something with your shaver a day before Eid.
Automatic 7 to 8 Digit Converter for the iPhone
Saturday, September 20, 2008 at 11:20AM | By Bojacob With all the confusion that’s going on, I thought it best to get this done automagically. This will ONLY work with Cydia! AKA: This is for jailbroken iPhones version 2.0+
Update: Just added the caller-id fix as well to the repository, so you can add that if you don’t see the contact name when someone calls you.
Disclaimer: This will add +965 and the new digit to all Kuwaiti numbers that it sees. This should be a safe process, but If your iPhone eats your numbers, I’m not responsible! The whole process is detailed below. To be really safe, go get Funambol from the app store and back up your numbers online.
Add this repository to Cydia: http://iphone.bojacob.net
Once that’s done, you’ll find a new section called Kuwait Number Conversion or something, I forgot what I called it.
You’ll find a package by name of 8digit there. Install it, and it should convert all the numbers currently on your iPhone.
Grats! You should be all converted now. Keep in mind that some numbers are cached, so you may need an iPhone restart to see the changes, but usually it’ll work right off the bat.
Something bad happened? Just remove the package and it should revert to a backup copy of your address book. Do NOT hit Reinstall.
How it works (Geeks and brave people only.)
This basically runs a bunch of SQL queries on your address book file located in /var/mobile/Library/AddressBook/AddressBook.sqlitedb
These are the queries:
UPDATE ABMultiValue SET value = Replace(value, “+965”, “”);
UPDATE ABMultiValue SET value = “+9656” || value WHERE (substr(value,0,2) IN (“51”,”58”,”59”) OR value LIKE “6%” OR substr(value,0,3) IN (“700”, “701”, “703”, “704”, “705”, “706”, “707”, “708”, “709”, “770”, “771”, “772”, “773”, “774”, “775”, “776”, “778”, “779”, “501”, “502”, “505”, “506”, “507”, “508”, “509”));
UPDATE ABMultiValue SET value = “+9659” || value WHERE (value LIKE “9%” OR value LIKE “44%” OR substr(value,0,2) IN (“71”, “72”, “73”, “74”, “75”, “76”, “78”, “79”) OR substr(value,0,3) = “702”);
UPDATE ABMultiValue SET value = “+9652” || value WHERE (value LIKE “2%” OR value LIKE “3%” OR substr(value,0,2) IN (“41”, “42”, “43”, “45”, “46”, “47”, “48”, “49”, “52”, “53”, “54”, “56”) OR substr(value,0,3) IN (“500”, “503”, “504”, “551”, “552”, “553”, “571”, “551”, “552”, “553”, “571”, “572”, “573”, “574”, “575”, “576”, “577”));
UPDATE ABMultiValue SET value = “1” || value WHERE value LIKE “8%”;
Ramadan is Upon Us. Need to Get Into Holy Mode.
Monday, September 1, 2008 at 07:53AM | By Bojacob Our holy month is upon us. I must suspend any Rock Band play, despite the fact I was really getting into drumming. Well, after dark perhaps?
Hello :) Mbarak 3alekom il shahar. I’m awake at 7 AM when work starts at 9:30 AM. It’s blasphemous to wake up 2.5 hours before work. Hell, it’s blasphemous to wake up 30 minutes before work! Therefore, I am in a state of blasphemy right now. I’m also hungry.
Much love revolves around this holy month. If its holiness does not get to you, then I’m sure the reduced work time will. I only got 2.5 hours shaved off though, which gives me 5 hours 30 minute workdays. Friggin’ private sector :/ I’m also hungry.
You don’t work? Well then revel in the fact that we’re gonna get like 10 new shows! If you apply any rule of probability, you’ll at least end up with ONE good show, no? Aw come on, be positive :) I’m also hungry.
Seriously, I’m hungry :( I’m writing this just to try and distract myself, but those friggin hunger pangs! I can’t lose any more weight! Why, oh why didn’t I wake up for so7oooor! Dreaming of being inside Uncle Scrooge McDuck’s big $ building and diving into a sea of computer gadgets does NOT make up for it!
I
AM
HUNGERY!
And may you all have a happy month :) God help me. Where’s the zakat boxes.