Tuesday, March 25

Omar's Shitty Post { like this is the only one yeah }

So here I am, in Beijing once again, in a coffee shop drinking an atrociously expensive coffee {$4.00 for a cuppa is waaaaay expensivo... ok I'm a cheapskate}. I guess I'm PAYING FOR THE FREE WIRELESS SO I SHOULD NOT COMPLAIN. I'm thinking of something to write right now. Think........ Thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiink........... OK. I guess this would be my shitty post for now.

Ok people, let's talk about shit. How's my shit? Well, I noticed that recently in my daily bowel movements, my shit floats. I guess that's good eh? I read somewhere that if yer shit floats on water it means that yer healthy but if its denser than water then yer in bad shape. So I guess I am in good shape. World! Read this! MY SHIT FLOATS! BOOYA TO THAT!

Okay, enough of my shit. So I'm kinda bored right now. I'm waiting for 9 pm so I could meet up with some friends that I met here in Beijing. Oh yeah, one of my friends in my city is having an operation right now. Nothing major, but still, when you go under the knife, YOU GO UNDER THE KNIFE.

Saturday, March 22

I'm tired

Much has been talked about the recent violence that has happened {and some say still happening, although we will never know} out West of this Noodle Kingdom. I am not writing this entry to make a political commentary or any sort of analysis on the situation at hand, for one main reason - I am tired. I have no excuse and I will make no excuses whatsoever. I am just tired. There will be no rants. If you want to see or hear any, I am sure that there would be a plethora of sites who will be doing that job.

I still think that life is beautiful.

Humanity, on the other hand, is ugly.

Sunday, March 2

A day with Omar {or the one where he gets locked in his own apartment and then bbuys a new microwave}

Wendy & Omar's Apartment
1:30 pm, Beijing time

I woke up at around 9 something {although I set the alarm at 8 something} to find out that I was drooling on my pillow {note to self: change sheets and pillow cases}. I lay prostrate on my bed for a while, thinking about the mysteries of my life and all that crap and why, at 29, I still find myself drooling on my pillow on some mornings. I count one to 69 just to motivate myself and at 68 I was out of my bed stepping on the clothes that I shed last night. For a guy who cleans his floor 10 times a day, I am very lazy when it comes to clothing {I do laundry fastidiously but I just can't seem to force myself to fold shredded clothing}. I squint my eyes and scratch my chest and felt the nicotine patch on my right breast, then I remember that I was quitting cigarettes. And then I also remembered that I smoked six fags {or 8} last yesterday. So much for quitting. OK, I need to lessen my nicotine intake if I still want to reach my forties. I say my personal mantra in my head.


I go out of my room to find the apartment empty. Wendy has already gone out to work. I have work at 2 pm. I go to the bathroom. I peed. I flushed. I put down the toilet seat {Wendy's an old fashioned girl, so yeah}. I look at the clock and it's almost ten. I stand in the middle of the living room for a while to think.................... I'm a slow thinker in the mornings.............. Breakfast. Fridge, I open and looked at its contents for a second or two and I see soda, beer, fruits, Wendy's leftover mac and cheese. I get Wendy's mac and cheese and nuked it. I eat in silence. I washed the mac and cheese with salted Pepsi with lemon and 3 ice cubes. That hit the spot. Think............. Music. Headphones. Flags. So I did.

A Gordon Lightfoot Remix plays {I've been stuck with Studio 54 since yesterday}. I put on my headphones and held my flags in both hands and danced in my PJ's .

An hour or two passes, feeling exhausted, sweating and panting I decide to take a shower.

Shower. It's like like showering in the Enterprise's Transportation Room. It's enclosed and really small but it keeps the steam and heat inside. I miss my bathtub. I got out and get dressed, psyching myself for work. I still have two hours till work time. I check my email. I noticed that Wendy left an open pack of cigarettes beside the PC, she must have been in a hurry I guess. Should I smoke it? Or shouldn't I? I shouldn't smoke while I'm wearing a patch. Then again I'm not wearing one at the moment. I smoke. I finished the 3 sticks. I looked at my watch and it said 1 pm. I should go to work. I get my coat and keys and opened the door. It doesn't open. I tried again. Still no go. I'm locked. Wendy must've thought that I have left already. Our apartment door is one complicated door. Two keyholes that you have to turn in the opposite direction to open and to close. You can't open the door from the inside once it's locked from the outside.

I'm trapped. In my own apartment. Till 7 pm.

Should I call Wendy? Should I call work?

I called work. I told them the situation and told them that my flatmate was somewhere in West China volunteering for the Peace Corps for the whole week and that the land lady was not going to be back till late afternoon. It's almost believable.

I could use a cigarette right now. But I've already put on a fresh nicotine patch. And there's not a stick left in Wendy's pack.

I stand in the middle of the living room and decided to think ... {I think faster in the afternoons}. What does someone do in a mild crisis like this? I guess there is nothing left to do but react in the most rational way as possible.


Wendy and Omar's Apartment
Almost 3 pm, Beijing time

I'm cleaning in my underwear, a ritual that I haven't done ever since I moved in with Wendy. I just realized how I missed cleaning in my plaid boxers. I am more comfortable doing it it "almost naked" and I clean in the flat in all abandonment, with so much gusto and with such resolve like some Nazi sanitation inspector is going to visit my apartment the next day. Funky music techno shit plays in the background. I'm thinking of flagging again but I need to clean. I'm also doing my laundry.

Wendy's cat, Taibshie, eyes me suspiciously thinking that I might fuck something up. He keeps hissing at the mop like it's his nemesis or something. I try to pet him but he attempts to scratch me. We used to be very close. I dunno what happened. Perhaps he thinks I am taking Wendy away from him.

I was trying to clean the microwave and I broke the glass plate that you place over the pivot thing. My mind says a mental 'oops'. The cat looks at me with a somewhat shit eating grin on his face. He looks satisfied with himself. We look at each other for I don't know how long, standing our ground, motionless, as if we were two subjects in a National Geographic documentary. I am not going to lose this battle. He may have won the microwave, but he will not win this staring contest. The cat is just by the kitchen door and I am beside the sink holding the broken microwave plate in my plaid boxers. I don't blink. Neither does the cat. I can hear David Attenborough speaking in the background in his National Geographic voice :

"Two lions face each other,silent and motionless, eyeing each other with such calculation. The seasoned lion {me} doesn't flinch as the young and aggressive lion {the cat} eyes him with a silent vehemence. A defining moment for these two creatures for they both know that in this jungle, there is only one lord. "

A lone gazelle sprints away in the background. Still we don't move. I gave him a low snarl, almost inaudible. He hears. He gives up. He motions away to Wendy's room. National Geographic wins an Emmy. I look at the broken microwave plate and I am thinking of two things... I am thinking of what to do in this situation and I am also thinking if I should be scratching my nuts right now.

I go for the former. I make a mental note.

{notes to self: Once I get out of the flat, buy two things - 1) a microwave glass plate and 2) cat poison, if there ever is one}

Then I scratch my nuts.

I'm royally screwed. I honestly could use a cigarette right now. Jeff Buckley sings in my player. He soothes me.

Wendy and Omar's Apartment
4 pm, Beijing time

I'm getting tired of gum. Why is it that gum isn't as addictive as cigarettes? I like the fresh breath feeling and all but poisonous substances invading my lungs seems to be a better alternative right now. I tried calling a friend to help me open the apartment but I got no answer. I'll try calling him again. We were supposed to meet later anyways, after I got off from work. Maybe I could even buy that microwave plate in time for Wendy to even notice. I realize that for the modern man who lives in the city, life without a microwave, is like eating ramen noodles without MSG. Wendy's prolly gonna freak a little. Wyclef Jean sings Gunpowder. Somehow, I am not comforted.

Wendy and Omar's Apartment
4:45 pm, Beijing time

I just finished doing yoga. Some yoga music is playing right now in my audio player. I'm waiting for my friend to come to my place so I could throw him the keys from my living room window so he could open my god damn apartment door.

Wendy and Omar's Apartment
5:30 pm, Beijing time

My friend arrives. I throw the keys outside the window. It took us 40 minutes to open the god damn door. Once its opened I grabbed my keys and my wallet and went to the nearest appliance store to buy that microwave platter.

Appliance Store
6 pm, Beijing time

I talk to the saleslady and she said that they don't sell microwave platters and then she gave me the service center number to call which was royally not in service. I tried my luck in another appliance store and they said the same thing and gave me the same number. In the end, I gave and bought myself a new microwave. I went back to our apartment to find Wendy's there. She has this weird look on her face when she see's me carrying a big box that says microwave. She goes to the kitchen to check the microwave and I follow and told her the whole thing, even the part about me being locked in the apartment. She smiles. She said I didn't have to do that since we could have still used the microwave. I told her it was her birthday present. I know, it's lame but I felt guilty. Tomorrow I'd prolly have buyer's remorse. Meh. I think I'd make a good husband someday.

Muslim Restaurant, Downtown {5 blocks from my apartment building}

7 pm, Beijing time

I eat with my friends {the one who helped me open my apartment door}. I told them about the microwave and we eat. I drink my beer, they drink their Pepsi then somebody calls out my name from the other table. It's Eve {pronounced as ehv since she's French Canadian}, early twenties, nice skin, nice eyes, petite, not too fat not too thin, just enough. She's cute and always smiling. I met her in a restaurant yesterday while meeting up with friends. She's quite easy going and I find her sexy. If I were straight I'd be in to her. We do small talk which was actually quite sincere considering that most talks are never sincere. I ask her number when she leaves with her friends. Sometimes, when I meet girls like Eve, I wish I were straight. I said goodbye to my friends and leave the restaurant. I chucked the headphones in my ear and I listened to the Coffee and Cigarettes Soundtrack and walked back to my apartment. I put the hood and decided to follow my shadow. He's in front of me and then he makes a turn. I follow. I'd like to smoke now. Suddenly I feel sexy. Must be the song.