Monday, 21 January 2019

Retrieving Phone — Through Tracking App — From Some Thug Who Found It

While walking Dahab last night somehow my phone fell in the street. An intoxicated punk picked up 10 minutes later when I called using a stranger’s phone, saying that he’s in Beheira — that’s a coastal governorate located 160 Km (100 mi) away from Cairo! Uhm. I offered him money once he gives it back, but again he insisted he’s in said place, saying come take it from there. Hm. So I knew he’s screwing around.

You know through one button I could make the phone completely useless and you will not be able to do anything with it,” I sternly explained. He shouted back some profanities.

Look, I have lots of business material of that phone. Just give it back and I’ll pay you,” carrying on with a calmer tone.

“OK, come take it from Beheira.”

Alright then. Thank you very much” and hung up. The tosser. 

Now, this was around 10:15 and Vodafone store closes at 11. I knew I probably had to cancel the line so that he doesn’t use it. Then again, without the code he wouldn’t have been able to. I still needed a phone to make some calls and be able to find my phone. There, I was told that they cannot help me much. Either cancel the line, and get another SIM card with the same number; this way I won’t be able to reach my phone or the punk — or so I thought. Or as I have chosen, get a new “prepaid” sim with a new number and use it on my old phone until I see if relocating the lost one would lead to anything. I was hopeful, yet a tad skeptical.  

Back home, I turned the tracking app “Find my iPhone” on and could instantly see where he was — which is more or less where I must have dropped. I chose “Lost Mode”, which locks the device, displays a custom message while turning on tracking; and it works even if phone is off and/or location services was initially disabled.

I was then reminded by Find My Phone. This is a short film with 7 million views on YouTube made by a Dutch student and filmmaker, Anthony van der Meer, who for two weeks followed the man who stole his phone from Amsterdam to Berlin to France while tracking his every move until he located and saw him. Though he was using a specially installed spyware to be able to do so. Watch it if you haven’t. But let me spoiler alert you by saying that the guy who stole the student’s phone turned out to be Egyptian. Ha-Ha.

Afterwards, I took the entire laptop since the old phone didn’t have enough credit — or so I imagined — the porter and another guy and headed there. By mere coincidence, me botherman Bops had called me a couple of hours earlier, saying that he will be coming to see me — after not meeting for several weeks. So he met us there as well. He was the missing link as he was the one with Internet on his iPhone who magically materialised out of thin air a couple of minutes after ringing him to see if he was anywhere nearby. Neato!

Following the dot across the street, we arrived at a coffee shop. They went in as I remained outside to spot anyone who tries to run away to the left or right. Also, I did not want to be seen from the start. Because maybe whoever had it knows how I look; either from photos on the phone or he saw me when I dropped it. But a minute through, I decided to follow them in to see what’s up. The four of us sure looked dodgy: Bops silently staring at his phone, myself with the laptop case in hand, the porter looking like an actual thug himself, and then the fourth guy who had the appearance of some sort of secret police. 

When the manager who came to greet us asked Bops if we wanted to sit down, the latter replied that we’re waiting for someone — still staring at his phone and almost avoiding all eye contact. Another minute or so was spent looking around suspiciously at everyone’s hands and phones inside the coffee shop before we all went out. I thought we ought to tell the manager so I asked him to come join us. Starting with how I dropped the phone about an hour prior, to the guy who answered me, to “Find my Phone”. Then when I said the city’s name, Beheira, he paused for a moment, as if thinking of a certain someone.

By then more staff had arrived and all seemed quite helpful. There we were staring at Bops’ phone on which we could see the dot, or my phone, moving all over the place — perhaps the guy was trying to escape from the back of the coffee shop or just hiding inside.

One of the staff asked me if he sounded thug-ish when we spoke, to which I replied a solid YES. “Hm”. Once again, this one seemed like he had someone in mind. 

After gathering all this attention, we decided to click on the “Play Sound” button, which makes the phone ring even if on silent. About 20 seconds later one guy standing by a side door looked like he could hear the siren-like ring.

Then lo and behold, an Arab-looking man came out from the building with my phone in hand; he was followed by the punk. 

“He’s a crazy guy, as not very stable in head, and you got your phone and blabla…,” the guy trying to sooth the situation. 

I put the retrieved phone in my pocket before asking: “This is him?”

 Standing right in front of the culprit while starring straight in his eyes: “So you nick my phone and then you swear at me? What guts!

I didn’t answer. I found it there,” replying with a plastered, drugged up voice.

I didn’t answer. I found it there,” I repeated with my own version of a plastered, drugged-up voice to make fun of him. “Asshole!” I found myself shouting. He tried to answer, but Bops who was then closer to him was faster: Zewwww! A right upper cut landed on the wanker’s face. He tried to kick Bops but the crowd had already carried him away, while others stood in front of me so I don’t attack.

I screamed another “Cunt!” as they took him inside the building. “You’re going to be hanged from your feet.” This is what police often does in the stations with certain people. “I already called the chief police. How do you employ such people, if he is a real nutter? We are all crazy, but we don’t do this,” directing my words to a couple of managers.

“We are exceedingly sorry about that,” everyone was so apologetic, there was nothing else for us to do but to calm down, be happy and grateful I got my phone back, and just leave. The bloody tosser could have made a 100 Quids or probably more.

The manager left us with another apology, which prompted me to apologise myself for the loud shambles. We then crossed the street to get into Bops’s car and drove off — just like A-Team or like bank robbers after a successful heist.

You see, I wasn’t just scaring the guy off; for I had really used my connections to call a high-rank official and they were actually expecting me at the station. Instead however, I chose to take matters into my own hands and sort it out meself ... and got the phone back. Coo Coo Ca-Choo.

The police would have filed a report, but would have probably not come with me, even if I had shown them the Find My Phone app as proof. This is not because we are in Egypt, but it’s the same story almost everywhere around the world, whether in North America or Europe — as seen in Find my Phone from The Netherlands. 

Writing the report was also going to take some time, and I didn’t want the “dot” to disappear, possibly once and for all. 

What encouraged me is that I could see the phone was fixed in one location, right by my house, and this is my neighbourhood which I know pretty well. Also it was around midnight, and only three shops nearby the coffee shop are open then, which we did check out before the arrival of Superman Bops. Then again, the app was so precise, it was obvious that he was in that coffee place. Kudos, Find My iPhone, and a big warm thank you. 
Technology, Bitchez  *Mic Drop

So well played. One more street action memory for Bops and I. 20 years later and we still got it, Baby. Don’t mess with the Zohan. But do read The Night We Turned ‘Beast Mode’ On if you want to be acquainted with our wild past.

P.S.: Girls and Boys, let us be clear that I do not condone violence in any way, shape, or form. Even with those who have wronged us, it never helps. Sometimes, though, things like that just happen and we make a story out of them, some more entertaining than others. But everyone loves a good story. Let alone, one with a happy existential ending: Getting your lost phone back.

Over and Out. 


The Night We Turned ‘Beast Mode’ On

Banged Up Abroad — My Few Days @ The Don Jail

The Bloke Who Thought I’m Too Much of an Alpha Male

Stop-n-Search That Hippy

The Night I Became a Stripper

Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: Officer Roberts

Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: The Coke Prank

Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: Sergeant Pepper

Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: Evolution
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Sunday, 20 January 2019

Eating Cows’ Trotters — كوارع

Eating Cows’ Trotters — كوارع
My first memory of “kawareaa”, or cows’ trotters, as a young boy in Egypt was that it was aphrodisiac food. I learned that from Arabic movies, not from home, as we never made it, hence I have never tasted or even seen it. I can say the same about brains and testicles, both are consumed in Egypt among other areas. Also the fact that for 20 long years “home” was a five-star hotel — since my father was a General Manager — has certainly limited our exposure to such kind of food. “It’s good for your knees”, they would repeat about kawareaa in the movies. Considered of lower quality cut, cattle’s feet are usually consumed by the less fortunate. Ironically, my own experience only took place after dropping the meats almost five years ago.

In Western cuisine the trotters are not included in the common cut of beef, which only recognises shanks, and are not consumed as much. The cut, though, is often included as part of the beef shank. 

But in many other regions and cultures around the world, like Egypt, it’s a different story. They are actually part of various traditional dishes in Asian, African, French, Caribbean, and South American cuisines — even considered a delicacy. Whether from Zimbabwe, Uganda, Pakistan, Indonesia, Morocco, Turkey or Egypt, Googling “Cow’s Trotters/Cows Trotters/Cows’ Trotters/Cow’s Trotter/Cow Trotter/Cow Trotters” will lead you to many different international recipes, showing how widespread the phenomenon is.

Other than cattle, the trotters of goat, sheep, and pigs are cooked in similar ways and are equally consumed.

On a similar note, chickens’ feet, too, are edible. In Jamaica, for instance, they constitute the main ingredient of a traditional soup. On the other side of the world in China, chickens’ feet are everywhere: Deep fried, in soups, dim sum and stews, and are even sold seasoned and packaged as snacks. So it seems humans are not that selective when it comes to eating animals’ feet. 

Health wise, bone marrow is known to be packed with protein, calcium, phosphate and magnesium; along a quite a high percentage of fat — about 96 percent. When cooked, the resulting broth is a nutrient-dense liquid full of vitamins, proline, gelatin, and minerals. Some of the health benefits of bone marrow include helping build the overall immunity, a reason why it’s a common old-fashioned remedy against the flu. 

Due to the gelatine it contains, bone marrow alleviates joints pain while promoting healthy bones. For the same reason, it is said, it keeps the skin healthy and hair shiny as well as reduces wrinkles.

Bless the Internet, as I was writing this piece, an article titled A Bone a Day Keeps the Doctor Away? posted by the Neuroscience News and Research page I follow on Facebook appeared in my feeds. I have taught myself how to get used to these synchronicities, so I stopped registering and labeling such occurrences as “random”, resulting in much less head-scratching. What I do is thank the creative writing gods for their constant support and get on it.

As for the science article, it reviews a new study published in the Journal of Agricultural and Food Chemistry (ACS), which suggest that the use of ham bones to make broths and stews could have a positive impact on cardiovascular health. It also explains why simmering animal bones is regarded healthy in slightly technical terms. 

Historically, bone marrow is considered one of humanity’s earliest super foods. Apart from the widespread notoriety of being an aphrodisiac, cow foot stew is also recommended as a hangover cure. So there was some truth to the old Arabic movies after all — it was always seen served to newlyweds on their first day together or even on their wedding night. You know, because the hanky panky requires energy and calories.  

Again in Jamaica, the birthplace of reggae music, cow foot stew is a signature dish, usually served with broad beans. Remarkably, the consumption of feet in the Caribbean goes back all the way to the 1600s, when first created during the days of slavery. Because apparently plantation owners would take the best parts of the animals for themselves and leave the “fifth quarter” — head, feet, tail, internal organs and skin — for the slaves.

Eating Cow’s Trotters — كوارع
The last two bones after he devoured the first one in less than a minute. I couldn’t
help handling this stare and just gave them to him. Nommm

Back to my own experience with kawareaa, or lack of it more likely. I was in my early 30s when I moved to Canada and got into cooking. From how to properly marinate Sirloin steaks to preparing oxtail soup, which took me about four hours to make, it was a blast. This time of Renaissance was also when I began eating many of the vegetables I had one day as a child rebelliously decided I did not like and stopped eating.

Check my earlier article Arugula: The Healthy Ancient Aphrodisiac for more. Yes, I’m seemingly fixated on learning and writing about natural aphrodisiacs. Because why not.

Fast-forward to three years when I moved to the U.S and dropped the meats. ... I came to Cairo once and told Bassima, our long-time cook and former nanny, that I wanted to eat kawareaa. 

Are you sure?” She asked. “I think it will be only for you and your dad” — excluding mother and sister [because kawareaa is too icky and yucky for them as it was for my late grandma among many other people].

What I came to learn from that first time we made kawareaa at home is that trotters contain no muscles or meat; instead, it consists of skin, tendons, and cartilage. When cooked — for a long time — the soft, chewy gelatinous tendons and skin become the tasty edible part, while broth is produced. But the real rich flavour comes from within the marrow. Similar to oxtail, it’s the reason why it requires hours to cook.

Also like oxtail, a dense, hearty soup often accompany kawareaa, which was how I had it the first time. I must say I did enjoy the experience, especially that, by that time, meat was something I ate on rare occasions. So apart from the richness, I equally enjoyed trying something new. It’s truly invigorating to be experimental. You see, if you like it, great; if not, then at least you know. Real win-win situations, which always remain educational. That’s a general life philosophy, not just about food.

A year later during another trip Bassima made kawareaa in fatta ( فتة كوارع ), which is a combination of rice, bread, garlic, vinegar, and yoghurt. This time as seen in the featured photo above, she kindly made both. And I devoured it all. Nom Nom Nom. One feels so energetic afterwards. 

As I experimented with arugula after consuming it to test the claim of the plant being an aphrodisiac, this time I also engaged in coitus after the meal. In fact, the young woman and I both had kawareaa, but then we totally passed out, for like an hour or so. Thing is, we had been drinking wine before, so the hearty meal came in and knocked us out. Upon revival, though, we went at it like beasts. So to report, the sex happened to be amazing, because you do feel the gained energy. Of course, the Placebo Effect could have very well affected our performance. Mayhap a certain degree of both were equal partners in the equation. Hm, I kind of miss that wild passion.

Eating Cow’s Trotters — كوارع
What Dahab the Lab left from the first two golf-sized bones

I have learned from my late Cocker Spaniel Caramella and others that dogs love marrow bone. In fact, it is one of the popular flavours for treats. So after finishing the whole kawarea meal I kept the bones for Dahab, but then forgot about them. At some point during the evening while at the kitchen he casually stood up on his hind legs against the counter, trying to reach the plastic container with the bones. He never gets up like that; the scent of the marrow bones must had been tickling his nose. Before I reached the counter he had already managed to grab the biggest two in his mouth and back down to devour them on the kitchen floor. I just let him enjoy and went to get the camera, as I kept the other three for the following day.

Then and there I was once again reminded by how Caramella wouldn’t leave the kitchen unless most of the bones have disappeared. Sometimes while cleaning the house, say a couple of weeks later, I would find a piece of leftover dried-out bone under the bed or carpet. So when Dahab tried to exit the kitchen with them in his mouth, probably to go enjoy them somewhere more comfortable like the living room, I refused and forced him to get back in. A couple of minutes later and they were totally annihilated. Ploof! 

After all that was recounted, my sister thinks I’m weird. “So you don’t usually eat normal meat or chicken and then you eat kawarea and liver,” she exclaimed more than once. 

I tell her that I’m doing it for the sake of experience, like a cultural experience gained through my travels. To also mess around with my taste buds and entire nervous system every once in a while. I’m also sharing a meal with the doggo as our ancestors did in the wild. Fine, I am weird. 

Eating Cow’s Trotters — كوارع
Slurp Slurp, no mo bony for doggo?!


Arugula: The Healthy Ancient Aphrodisiac

The Intertwining of Music and Sexuality ― A Djembefola’s Tale

What’s the Story with Blue Balls (and Blue Vulva)?

How I Dropped Two Waist Sizes in a Few Months

Kicking That Sweet Habit

New Kreation: Onion-n-Garlic Pasta with Mussels and Other Yummy Stuff

New Kreation: Veggie Pasta

Cooking My Catch, Finally ― Pasta with Calamari [With Video and Recipe]

New Kreation: Sliced Baked Potatoes with Herbs
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Wednesday, 19 December 2018

OLS Reflections 64 — The Dangerously Fun Ones

  • Tonight I will get inside a time machine, attempting to change the course of history. You will know I’ve succeeded if humans can speak Dolphinese and fluently communicate with cats and dogs, we got rid of silent letters and clothes hangers with non-rotating hooks, and there are no February 29. Oh, one last thing: “Teethbrush”.

  • Misplaced commas are utterly, egregious. Oh well, I should have remembered that punctuation jokes are never funny, period.

  • In a sincere effort to help their users get a life, as of December 1st Facebook will automatically change all relationship statuses from “It’s Complicated” to “It’s Time To Move On”.

  • Oftentimes I try to accomplish a certain task before the microwave hits ‘0’ like the fate of the entire human race depends on it. There is something thrilling about that countdown.

  • Which comes first: Recent Past or Current History?

  • Next time someone asks me to say something “in my own words”, I’ll look at them all seriously then say: “Tarabantini Parampal Hee Haw @—# Boop Thnoop. Halla Palo Paraclimidia, Todd?”

  • Whoever cooks rice and peas in the same pot is one filthy humanoid.

  • To find out the who the Head Nurse is look for the one with the constantly red knees.

  • The sex was so phenomenally wild last night, even the neighbours shared a smoke then took a shower afterwards. Today they woke up smiling yet still shy to look into each other’s eyes for too long.

  • I once took LSD in the clinic of a submarine. The strange thing was that there was no stethoscope or microscope, not even a periscope. But hey! It was all in kaleidoscope. So just by learning how to ‘cope’, you see, I ended with the full scope. Pretty dope ¯\_(ツ)_/¯


OLS Reflections Sessantadue — The Scandalously Fun Ones

OLS Reflections 60 — The Sensationally Fun Ones

OLS Reflections 五十八 — The Shamelessly Fun Ones

OLS Reflections Fifty-Six — The Notoriously Fun Ones

OLS Reflections Dreiundfünfzig — The Playfully Fun Ones

OLS Reflections Cinquante-et-Un — The Corruptly Fun Ones

OLS Reflections Treinta y Seis — The Wickedly Fun Ones

OLS Reflections — Facebook Edition

OLS Reflections — Facebook Edition Deux

OLS Reflections ثمانية وعشرون — The Tranquilisingly Fun Ones

OLS Reflections पच्चीस — The Soothingly Fun Ones

OLS Reflections Venti — The Quiescently Fun Ones

OLS Reflections Siebzehn — The Peacefully Fun Ones

OLS Reflections Quatorze — The Mitigatingly Fun Ones

OLS Reflections Девять — The Pacifyingly Fun Ones

OLS Reflections Seis — The Mollifyingly Fun Ones

OLS Reflections Tre — The Mildly Fun Ones
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Tuesday, 20 November 2018

قصيدة تسلم الأيادي ... لو كانت نضيفة

تسلم الأيادي قال تسلم الأيادي
أيوا كده تعالوا الناحيادي
تعالى يا أحمد تعالي يا فادي
كله يضرب تعظيم سلام لبلادي


دكتور مذيع أو سباك
لو فكرت تنزل هيتقال "إيه إللي وداك"؟
خليك مواطن شريف وإبعد عن هناك
أما بقي لو فكرت تروح فإحتمال كبير تت..ك


خليكو فالكورة والفنانين      وسيبو أمن البلد لوالي الأمر
داحنا حاربنا ودارسين      إن ما في أجمل من التمر
لاكن الناس واعيين      ولهيب نارهم قايد على جمر      
دي الدنيا قلابة عالظالمين      ياللي النهاردة إنت والي الامر


اسْمَعُوا وَعُوا فالناس ديه لو قامت مش هتقعد
و بعزه جلالة الرحمن من غير متاخد حقها مش هترقد

اسْمَعُوا وَعُوا قبل فوات الاوان
وعسي أن ننسي ان قبل مايتعسكرهو فالأصل إنسان

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Monday, 12 November 2018

OLS Reflections ثلاثة وستون

  • Life is too short not to let go of that which does not serve us.

  • People who have an obsessive compulsion to control others usually do so because they have lost control over a certain aspect of their lives — as a compensation, which often occurs on the subconscious level without them noticing.

    The same can be said about those who choose to only see the flaws and imperfections in others. Their insecurity deludes them to believe that being the first to notice the bad in others will give them a certain advantage, which will overshadow their own flaws and imperfections, hence feeling better about themselves.

  • The secret to women over 50 is that they know what they want as they know how to get things done. For one, their decision-making about compatibility has reached its apex. Most are over the insecurities and past relationships and began loving themselves for who they are; hence they are comfortable in their own skin — a feature that clearly shows on the person… any person. Confidence also translates into sexiness.

    Another perk is that they are wise enough to give the man that attention his male ego is seeking — making him feel like the King of The Castle. Yet at the very same time, in case of dating, they do not really need the men in their lives, simply because
    they’ve got their own lives together.

    By this age, you see, the majority are equally done with obsessing over their biological clock or having children. This is a significant load off any woman’s shoulders. This is also a big plus for the man they are with, emotionally and sexually.

    Naturally, said psychological maturity and the balance it embodies give those women a certain nurturing quality many of the younger ones seem to lack.

  • Fear of the unknown — change, death, life, others — is the oldest and most destructive kind of fear. Exchange it with curiosity and see how far that will take you. (x)

  • “Her inhibited, unimaginative mind sucked the life out of every single atom within her. Her thoughts and fantasies, lips and skin, even lady garden … were all dry as the Atacama desert. When he tried sharing some of his fluids so that they may flow together it was seen as a system defect — since dryness is her default.”

  • Nothing beats going to bed with a clear conscience, knowing that you did your best and gave your all. For one day we may never wake up. 

  • People whose only interests in life derive from and revolve around following the news — politics, sports, World Affairs — contribute almost nothing to the human endeavour. Such divisive matters “fill up the horizon of their [those consumers] minds,” as George Orwell succinctly put it in 1984. “To keep them in control was not difficult.” 

  • If you do not follow your dream or passion, your clever mind will usually find the most elaborate excuses as to why you wouldn’t do it.

  • Before knowing who you authentically are at the core you get to know who you aren’t. For knowing what we don’t want is a significant step towards what we do want.

  • We cannot force people to perceive anything in a certain way. When their time comes, and if the matter is worthy of being perceived, they may get to see the other perspective.

  • People on the streets tend to walk slower in less developed countries than those in more advanced ones. One possible reason is because the latter are healthier. Another is that in advanced societies people are busier and have things to do as opposed to aimlessly strolling along.


OLS Reflections

OLS Reflections Deux

OLS Reflections Vier

OLS Reflections Khamsa

OLS Reeflections Yedi

OLS Reflections 八

OLS Reflections Ten

OLS Reflections Onze

OLS Reflections 13

OLS Reflections Quince

OLS Reflections Sixteen

OLS Reflections Dix-Huit

OLS Reflections تسعة عشر

OLS Reflections Veinte Uno

OLS Reflections 22

OLS Reflections Dreiundzwanzig

OLS Reflections Twenty-Four

OLS Reflections Vingt-Six

OLS Reflections Ventisette

OLS Reflections Veintinueve
OLS Reflections 30

OLS Reflections Einunddreißig

OLS Reflections  إثنان وثلاثون

OLS Reflections Thirty-Three

OLS Reflections Trentaquattro

OLS Reflections 37

OLS Reflections Trente-Neuf

OLS Reflections Forty  

OLS Reflections Einundvierzig

OLS Reflections — The Spiritual Edition 

OLS Reflections Cuarenta y Cuatro

OLS Reflections 45

OLS Reflections Quarantasette

OLS Reflections — The Unpublished Edition

OLS Reflections Forty-Nine

OLS Reflections 50 

OLS Reflections Cincuenta y Dos

OLS Reflections Cinquantaquattro

OLS Reflections पचपन 

OLS Reflections 57

OLS Reflections Cinquante-Neuf

OLS Reflections Sesenta y Uno
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Monday, 5 November 2018

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: 22 Years Later — Once Teenagers Now Adults

Following the Neighbour’s Lustful Guest, the Memoirs of an Incognito Friend series took a rather longer-than-usual hiatus. Finally I met my buddy and we had a lot to share. This story remains the highlight of our meeting.

As a teenager, my buddy heard about a younger girl who was quite sexy and “mature for her age” as she was also daring. Being a few years younger than us, naturally it was guys our age whom she would hook up with. Then one day the younger brother of a common friend of ours passed by his house and brought her with him. A pretty baby-face complemented a full rack and a set of long legs, the girl was indeed attractive. While the boys were around 19 or 20, she was 16 at the time. 

This was probably the last time he sees the girl in years. Even though he tried reaching her by letting the younger brother “bring” her one more time, it never happened and that was that.

Around the same hormonal stage, my buddy got distracted when he dated three girls simultaneously for about six months — as previously shared in Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Three Girls, One Perfume. Yep.

About 13 years later the girl friended him on Facebook and they began chatting sometimes. He found out she had been married for ten years with kids. Slowly but surely, the innocent chatting turned into flirting. Both confessed that they have wanted the other since that first night, but then… life happened. Eventually they fantasised about how it would be if it actually materialised after all these years and they get to meet.

During all the time they were corresponding he was far and away and would only go back to Egypt for visits. Since she was still married, there was never an opportunity for anything to happen, despite innocently bumping into each other several times. Then on one of those trips back he found out she got divorced — somewhat expectedly. Oh. Finally the possibility opened up.

One night she passed by and began talking about her recent divorce. It was obvious she was still healing, so he kept listening to all she had to say and contained himself. A sweet smooch before leaving and that was that.

Maybe a couple of months later there she passed by again. This time she mentioned she had her period. So again, he figured nothing too crazy will happen. However, things did happen. Finally. From flirting, to kissing, to fondling those full cups he’s been meaning to play with for 22 years. Apparently they both got so hot and heavy — not the cups — they still found a way for her to reach orgasm, without penetration. The experience felt like an echo from such a distant past when both were kids — literally.

After this first night, going all the way seemed like the natural next step. And when it happened it turned out to be enigmatic. Imagine wanting something [someone] when you’re 19 and them 16, then you seemingly vanish from each other’s lives, for them to come back to you with open arms 22 years later — wanting you as much as you want them; though having been in a monogamous relationship for almost a couple of decades, perhaps the lust is even more intense from their side. Now despite keeping her sweetness, she was not that immature young girl anymore. But rather, a fully gown, desirable woman who is not shy about what she wants and likes in the bedroom and knows how to get them. O’ The beauty of mature women. 

Above all that, the woman is equally a mother. And all mothers possess that tenderness which makes itself clearly shown in sex among other activities. Her own sensual, unselfish tenderness was no different.

This time it was more straightforward. He opened up the door in a towel while remaining topless — the right-after-shower wet look. After some French-kissing to greet her, he took her from the door to the bedroom without much talking; and she was happily obedient.

As she walked right in front of him, her edible rounded caboose seemed like it was screaming: “Spank Me!”. He believes there was an invisible sign stuck to her jeans, on which was classily written, “Spank Me!”, but then it must have fallen before reaching his place. Because damn, woman.

[*Pam Pam] No more containing himself. As expected, those couple of spanks made her moan seductively before smiling while taking a step backward and resting her back on his naked chest.   

The couple proceeded with more tongue-kissing for about two minutes, before finding themselves rolling on the bed. This much-anticipated foreplay once again took him back to their teenage years. Later on, she shared that it was pretty much the same flashback for her.

Following the sensual play and before exploding he asked her if it’s safe to do so inside, to which she said yes. He kept going for a few then when he knew he was close, he felt compelled to ask again, this time laughingly. “I don’t want kids, you know. So I’m just making sure if it’s fine.” 

Ha-Ha,” she laughed right back. “Believe me, I do not want any kids either. You’re safe to shoot, Cowboy.”

That was all the cowboy needed to hear. 22 years of dreamy anticipation came out in a series of passionate ejaculation right inside her where the love belongs — or so they both felt.

He later told me: “It felt like coming back home after a mighty long and strange trip called life. A reunion that felt so comfortable and ‘right’”. Other than the long time, what makes the reunion special is that it still remains their first time to go all the way and actually do the Humpy Rumpy Pumpy Hanky Panky; unlike, for instance, Reliving a One-Night Stand...13 Years Later when the reunion resulted in an encore. It was kind of like those couples who decide to remain virgins and wait until marriage... but then the man is deployed to war. For 22 years!

Following the fireworks, the guy remained lying on top for quite a bit while his John Thomas also remained inside her like it was not intending to leave this new old home anytime soon. Eventually they went at it again, resulting in more lustful orgasms.

When you think about it, it’s funny how back in the days this was such a concern for the girl — that is, not getting pregnant. Now at this age, it’s some of us single men who are more wary and mindful of the issue.

Who would have thunk that this was stored for them when they first met in the late 90s? Imagine if they had consulted a certain wizard or fortune-teller back then who would point at the girl and say: O’ You will have her, my son. But 22 years from now. On a Friday night by 10:15 pm at this place. Bwahaha. Obviously they would have thought he was absolutely bluffing.

Life could be wacky, man. I am genuinely happy for him, for both of them actually. These wild souls agreed to meet again and me thinks they actually already did.

Until the next adventure of my incognito friend.


Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Italian Belly Dancer

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Stain on the Levi’s Shirt

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Girl Who Came

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Nine-Months-Pregnant Woman

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Reliving a One-Night Stand...13 Years Later

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The 17-Year-Old Lebanese Belly Dancer

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Three Girls, One Perfume

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Sex Party

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Threesome With Two Virgins

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: A Woman, Her Girlfriend, and the Girlfriends Friend

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Mother of Six Who Drove for 50 Hours

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Another Sex Party 

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Ten Days with a Charming Older Woman

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Monday, 29 October 2018

OLS Reflections Sessantadue — The Scandalously Fun Ones

  • After finding out I’m a writer, a seductive woman I just met asked me for a double entendre. So I instantly came up with three. I gave her two sloppy ones — in one. Then told her: “If I said you have a stunning callipygian body, would you hold it against me?

  • A wise man once said: Those who fear tomorrow should go to sleep and wake up after tomorrow.

  • Sometimes I lay wide awake in bed wondering what those who write ‘HBD’ and ‘K’ do with all the extra time they save. Other nights it’s the voices in my head that keep me busy. Three out of five usually want to sleep; one still cannot get over the fact that the Alphabet, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and Baa, Baa, Black Sheep all have the same tune; while the last one does nothing but frantically and repeatedly scream “DammitimmaD. DammitimmaD. DammitimmaD” as he stares at himself in a mirror.

    Now some of you may deem this absolute bollocks since there are no mirrors in anyone’s head. To those skeptics I would like to say that the inner world is a mere reflection of the outside one; hence it is all one big mirror on the inside through which there is a tapestry made of millions of other smaller shattered pieces of mirrors. Ha-Ha. Joke’s on you, smarty pants.

    Truly, it’s one jolly circus up here, me tell you. Entertaining it certainly is, yet turning it all off on occasions still remains tempting, let alone needed.

  • “Florence”, really? I’ve told you before that the reason why many hurricane evacuations fail is because they give them lame names like Andrew, Bonnie, Irene, Igor, Ingrid, Gustave, Sandy… and Florence. Name that shit Hurricane Megalodon XZ-9000 and watch everyone evacuate days earlier.

  • Constipated people don’t give a shit. Speaking of, “Taking a shit” is a bizarre expression. Because I usually leave one.

  • “Rich man”: He who makes more money than what his woman spends.

  • No one can take you for a ride unless you give them the keys.

  • People on a diet deserve to have a salad dressing called “200 Islands”. A more extreme option would be the “Seven Islands”.

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Friday, 26 October 2018

Things That Make You Go Hmmm

Every now and then on One Lucky Soul an article like this comes along. It seems more like 
something you would share with a friend over a coffee, or in the office during your colleague’s smoke break, or even over the phone with your besty. But since I don’t do any of those things, and since the last nine years were spent far and away from almost everyone I ever knew, I take to writing.

Four years ago I got to know a nice guy from the Venice Beach Drum Circle and as with many others from there we became friends. This includes Facebook and Instagram. One recent day it occurred to me that I haven’t seen any of his posts lately; when I checked both their profiles they weren’t there. So I assumed he deactivated them for a reason or the other. I genuinely asked the rest of the group about him, if he’s alright; to which I was told that he is indeed available online. Long story short, I had been blocked: On Facebook and Instagram — I didn’t even know the latter was possible. 

This was quite the surprise knowing that nothing happened between us. I’m currently in Egypt, so by nothing I mean no fight and even argument online. I kept thinking why would that person just wake up one day and block me, on both platforms, but haven’t reached any convincing possible reason. 

You see, blocking is not unfriending. It’s like you really don’t want anything to do with that person online, ever again; as if they do not exist. It’s odd when it happens between those who knew each other well and got along. Why allowing anyone get you to this point of blocking is still beyond me.

When going back with my memory, I recall saying in a comment in our last online interaction: Some of our fantasies are there so we can make them happen. Or something general and philosophical along these lines. So again, no argument, and not even a confrontation, like say The Ashram Sweeper Who Blocked Me on Facebook or even Blocked by an Anonymous Facebook ‘Friend’. Undoubtedly nothing. I wonder what went through his mind. Actually to this day my psychophilosophical mind remains quite curious to decipher such behaviour.

Another possibility is that he’s a rather shy man who gets nervous to make eye contact with strangers; also when people use profanities, even online. So maybe, just maybe, my free-spirited, often comical statuses about sex and orgies or maybe even full articles about spicy topics are too much for his virtual existence. But what a drastic reaction that is — especially for someone in his 50s. I truly have no idea.

I am walking in the street and there I see a young women I’ve known since childhood coming towards me. She unnaturally kept looking at the ground as she walked pass me. I didn’t stop or say anything and just kept going. It’s been years since we last saw each other, so I was reluctant to act and the whole thing was too fast. An hour later I wrote her a candid private message on Facebook asking if it was her. Ten days later, and still no reply, none, not even ‘seen’; even though we all know that it could have been read anyways. Thing is, she is active and not like offline or away from Messenger.

Between both happenings, as you may have known, I flew to Los Angeles only to be stopped by Homeland Security and interrogated and searched like some kind of criminal. And even though my U.S visa was still valid for two full years I was denied entrance because I have been in the country for too many times in those last four years. Not only that, but I am not allowed to be back for five years; however this could be waived. So I did nothing illegal, yet was still punished because… I don’t know: The system is screwed. Now more than ever, of course.

As with almost all experiences I go through, a full piece about that nightmarish experience — which I am mid finalising — is due. So stay tuned. 

Oh well, it remains almost impossible to know what people think or why they act in certain ways, especially with us, and especially those we think we know. Because we tend to assume. Life, however, does go on. At the end, our actions reflect who we truly are; people’s interpretations of them reflect who they truly are. I guess the best thing to do when dealing with such instances is to just smile and say, Hmmm.


The Ashram Sweeper Who Blocked Me on Facebook 

Blocked by an Anonymous Facebook ‘Friend’

The Joy of Being a Wanderer and the Credit Card Number
A Dollar & Thirty Four Cents in Me Pocket and Feeling Fine 

Personal Questions I’m Often Asked and Their Answers

The Bloke Who Thought I’m Too Much of an Alpha Male

The Girl Who Wouldn’t Share Toilet Paper

Not Sleeping With a French Hooker at 14

The Day I Became Bill Gate’s Elevator Boy

The Spell of the Topless Redhead 

The Night We Turned ‘Beast Mode’ On

The Night I Became a Stripper

Placebo Effect & The LSD Prank

The Joy of Being a Wanderer and the Credit Card Number

I Kissed a Grandma... and I Liked It

When Lady Ran Away

When The Puppies Ate The “Chocolate” 
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Monday, 22 October 2018

Words I Made Up — The Sixteenth

  • Contradickt (v): To oppose someone just for the hell of it.

  • Mightard (n): A condiment resembling mustard which you could use but don’t have to. 

  • Bratworst (n): The most badly behaved German child.

  • Melonites (n): Members of certain religious groups who solely feed on large round fruits with sweet pulpy flesh.

  • Peena Colada (n): Sweet cocktail made with rum, coconut cream or coconut milk, and pineapple juice that makes one urinate like mad. 

  • Social Media Influenza (n): A credible social media user who have built a reputation for their knowledge and expertise on the contagious “flu” virus.  

  • Good Beau (adj): A bilingual dog who is well-behaved as well as good-looking. Also used with bilingual human children.

  • Hurrycane (n): A running stick used only when in haste, typically when fleeing from a violent storm.

  • Kalbitchah — كلبيتشة (n): A female Arab American dog.

  • Cat-mon-doux (proper noun): A city in Nepal solely inhabited by exceptionally gentle and sweet felines.  

  • Procubine (n): An advantageous mistress. 


Words I Made Up

Words I Made Up — The Sequel

Words I Made Up — The Threequel

Words I Made Up — The Fourquel

Words I Made Up — The Fifthquel

Words I Made Up — The Sixquel  

Words I Made Up — The Seventhquel

Words I Made Up — The Eightquel

Words I Made Up — The Ninthquel

Words I Made Up — The Tenthquel

Words I Made Up — The Eleventhquel

Words I Made Up — The Twelfthquel

Words I Made Up — The Thirteenth

Words I Made Up — The Fourteenth   

Words I Made Up — The Fifteenth
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Friday, 19 October 2018

Sophia And The Djembefola

Look at this storyteller 

He bends it like Uri Geller
Kills it like Peter Seller

Owns it like Rockefeller

Now check that entertainer
Before she’d “Catcha Later”
A trainer in a trailer ain’t no traitor
Stronger everyday like Gloria Gaynor

Both lived a double life
Chasing the high off the highlife
Numbing the pain, numbing the strife
 Both knew it was a nonlife

Then one day their souls met up
Her kindness filled his broken cup
While he became her guardian pup
A love story never to breakup

Now he can drum their story
With all the shame and glory 

Overcoming all the odds
Shining brightly like the gods

That’s how union breeds liberation
That’s how The Greats build a nation 

With love as its fuel
As the rule as the school 
A tool for the wise as a tool for the fool
More loving in the streets makes our life cool

With love comes understanding
Compassion, empathy, hugs and lotta hold-handing

Now the couple in-style has a little girl named Sunshine
Gifted with a smile that makes their souls intertwine

A reminder from up the line that true Love is divine
A state of being for each to find and define
Over a celestial prime meal and proverbial fine wine
We can almost hear him say before they dine at nine:
My Love is yours, Sophia, and your Love in mine

“Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotion know what it means to want to escape from these.”
― T. S. Eliot

*Dedicated to young daddy drummer and his little baby girl

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