Rants of an angry somali man

Just everyday shyt that bothers me....and probably you, too.....basically its mumbles and rambles i ramble to myself....i hope i can release them all here

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Stop Being A Tease!

Alright! That's IT!!! I'm tired of you doing me like this! To let me get a taste of something so good, something so right, then just take it all away...It's just flat out evil. How could you do it! How could you just play with my body and my emotions like that?!

I can't lie, the last week or so was really good to me. It's been awhile since I've experienced anything like that. You made me happy. You inspired me to do things I haven't done in months...Then you flipped the script on me. I wish you'd stop being such a tease!

I'm speaking to Mother Nature, of course.

I really got used to that nice, warm Spring-like weather that we were experiencing in the London area. The weather went from 18 degrees on Wednesday last week, to 3 or 4 degrees on monday n tuesday with heavy rain and sleet. There were even a few snow flurries. Mother Nature pimped us all! She took us from "I bareley need a jacket" weather, to "Break out the scarf, hat and heavy coat" weather.

Can you blame me for being a little emotional? For a guy like me who hates cold weather with a passion, that little taste of an early Spring had me ecstatic. Finally, I thought, something good had come from the so called global warming! The only way I could have been happier is if I had been given a job traveling the country as a judge in barebecue rib competitions. Yes, unlimited goat meat was the only thing that could top that wonderful Spring weather.

Yet, Mother Nature decided to deliver an open-handed slap in the mouth to all of us in the London area. This must be what it feels like to have sex with someone you just met, and then wake up to an empty bed...Or even worse, an empty bed, and a dresser with a £10 bill on it. That's how Mother Nature made me feel. Now, let me get back to work and take my mind off this cheap, cold, empty feeling that I'm left with...

"I got this ice-box where my heart used to be...I'm so cold, I'm so cold, I'm so cold"

oohh no i don't have to go i haven't been bloggin' for a while so i'll write something about my life at work.........aight!?

An edited version of fei.

One of the reasons I started this blog was to have some kind of outlet, so that as I am told to conform, conform, conform at work, I can continue to be ME ME ME somewhere else.

I was pretty un-selfconscious about starting this blog, but then the trials of this radiologist getting outed in his department and other bloggers sharing their various tracking techniques have made me somewhat more concerned for remaining anonymous. Which makes it less fun.

See, there I go, I just started to edit that last sentence frag, but it's hard to do the Allen Ginsberg first-thought/best-thought method of writing when you're contantly on the backspace key correcting your smaller mistakes... it's easy enough to just keep going and take out anything incorrect or otherwise, you know, personalized.

Lately I feel like a shell of a person, probably because I spend too much time worrying about my image at work. I dress differently from others at work(i'm not that keen in to wearing suits and all that unless its a must)so me being feisal i'm still into slightly sagged jeans(not that british rudeboy style where they pull it under their ass) my workmates usual say i'm cool but i know they r fake compliments deep down the despise for being different , keep different hours than I want to, and try to watch what I say to everyone, all the time fuck dem british. I edit emails over and over until I'm sure they're short and to the point and don't contain anything that could be perceived differently than how I intend. And I hate all of it. I've dropped most of my hobbies for lack of time and energy, leaving very little of anything I enjoy or identify with...

Sigh. I never wanted to be one of the people who had a 9 to 5 job and then some lame hobby horse activity in the evenings or weekend warrioring, but the older I get, the more I can see why people do that. Separation of church and state. And a chance to be something other than a cardboard cutout imitation of who you wanted to be when you started out..........................i'm OUT!!!

Thursday, March 08, 2007

I Got Eye-Raped!

When a look just makes you feel…dirty

Ladies and gentlemen that read this blog, please allow me to use this blog today as a form of therapy. I need to talk about something. Something rather traumatic that happened to me a few days ago. I was…violated, so to speak. One could even use the term…raped.

Before I go any further, let me make one thing clear: Nothing happened to my butthole. I have not been involved in any form of man-on-man action, and my bootyhole maintains it’s sanctity to this day. It’s never been desecrated, and it never will be. So don’t get any Adebisi flashbacks from “Oz” or anything like that.

To clarify things, I was eye-raped. No contact was involved, but I still felt the need to go home and shower myself repeatedly to wash away the stains of indignity and injustice. The worst part about it was, it was some middle aged chicks guilty of this heinous act!

I’m riding the train home from work one day, minding my own business, when these four loud women with Verizon shirts on entered the train. The big one catches a glimpse of me from across the train and says “Mmmmmph!” This leads me to wonder if she’s attracted to me, or she saw the pack of dairymilk choc's in my jacket pocket and all of a sudden got hungry. Unfortunately for me, my question was answered when she started talking to the other three hard-looking b*tches about me being sexy and wondering if I would give to her hard.

I wanted to get up and say “You’ll never find out, you sloppy ass, thick neck hooker hoe b*tch!” but these women look like they lived hard lives. The type that walk around visually carrying the scars of supporting unplanned kids with dead-end jobs. If they look that bad with their clothes on, I can imagine what they must look like naked. Pu**ies probably look like they lost a fight with Sugar Shane Mosely…All defeated, abused and lumped up.

I knew if I engaged in a war or words with these heffers, it would be pointless and would only bring more attention to the situation. Since I was getting off the train two stops later, I just acted like I couldn’t hear those cackling wildebeasts until it was time to get off. Then I said “You f*ckin’ nasty, filthy b*tches” right before the doors closed after I got off the train.

Yes, I was a little b*tch-assed about the way I cursed them out, but like I said, I didn’t feel like having a drawn out battle that day. I felt too…soiled by their ogling.

Whew…That felt good to get off my chest. Therapy really does work! I thank you readers for allowing me to tell my story of shame and degredation to you. This will help me in my long-term recovery from the traumatic event. I love y’all.........aight!!

Friday, March 02, 2007


I don't know what the fuck was going on in London last night, but I happened upon two violent acts in the misdt of one evening of after-work happy hourdom at one of workmates joint. The first one was funny as shit, so please allow me to tell the story..."

Around 11:00 PM or so, this one small guy with glasses and a suit on was starting to show the effects of his liquor. In a heavy New York accent, this little guy stands next to the pool table and starts yelling "YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME! I GOT THIS SHIT. I DON'T GIVE A AHHHH....I DON'T GIVE A FUCK. CAUSE NOBODY COULD EEEEEEVER FUCK WITH ME!!!!!"

At that point, I had started making fun of that little attention whore. He looked like one of those black scholars you see when you watch some shit like Tavis Smiley's show. Like he just left a Congessional Black Caucus fundraiser, or black Leadership Conference. Yet he was acting an ass yelling like a make-believe DMX. To me, that's worse than if he had come in there doing that in regular street clothes. White folks are gonna start thinking we ALL do coonish shit like that and there are no exceptions to the stereotypes. So for a couple of seconds, I turned away from his theatrics and made fun of him for setting back the race with his antics.

Those 4 seconds I turned my head were momentus. All I heard was him still yelling, then a really loud "slapSLAP" sound. I look over, and that little Cornell West Jr looking dude was on the ground and his friend that came with him was standing over him being held back by three people. The friend said the little angry man threatened to throw a pool ball at him. As soon as angry guy grabbed the pool ball, he gave him a nice two-piece that dropped him. So I guess he wasn't all that un-fuckwittable after all.

Also, this lady I know got the shit slapped out of her by some guy that didn't like it when she corrected his english. I know that it's not cool to be like "Ain't is NOT a word. Use isn't next time" to someone, but still...you don't slap a woman. Especially over some dumb shit like that. I really felt bad for her, even though the thought of someone getting slapped for correcting a person's english is kinda funny. Only in concept, though.