For the Ladies
This is for the cat lovers…maybe
Is Ventura cool?
I don’t know, but he can hand some people their asses. Sweet.
Okay…so it’s torture
Via Raw Story
Man Crush - Thomas Jane
Comic Con 2009 - Anyone going?
Hello,
My name is Pouria and I am going to Comic Con this year. Who else is going? Would you like to split a room? Maybe become best buds? Let me know.
Bashasaurus
I used to rock this back in the day
Umm…mma?
Cool Hand Yazdo
Today I was trying to decide where I was going to settle for my lunch today. There is a lot of mediocreness around the office in SF, and currently I have to play like I have a half-hour lunch. You must be saying to yourself, “Pouria, you’re way too picky about food.” To this I would say yes I am. BUT I can eat at places that are very meager and have delicious foods…I am getting way off track, this is not my yelp account.
So I chose this place called Pita’s Cafe, or Pita Place, or whatever…it had Pita in the name. I’d eaten here before. There was even a yelp sign on the door, plus they have specials sometimes. I knew this because of the boards out front with the chalk. None of the specials were enticing, they focused on meat. I do not focus on meat…anymore.
They pretend to be Greek, I think, but I couldn’t help thinking that this was an Armenian or some sort of Turk. We Middle Easterners like to pretend we’re other things, it helps with business. There is a really popular Italian place run be Persians who pretend to be Italian. White people love eating at places that aren’t authentic, they like to pretend without even knowing it.
So I order a falafel wrap, cuz the wrap came with humus whereas the sandwich came with tahini. I hate tahini. So they told me to grab a seat and they’d bring me my meal. It took a really long time for a wrap of lavash with lettuce that makes souls weep. But this is not a yelp review, as I’ve noted before.
I sat 2 tables behind this chick with a laptop. She was a blond white chick, I didn’t really get a good look at her but she may have been attractive, who knows. So when I sat behind her I noticed she had a red-crescent moon tattooed just below her right shoulder. It was slightly covered by her shirt. She was typing away, when the owner brought her a menu and said to her, “Wow you’re still writing.” She said, “Yea I love this place.”
So I figure she is some sort of reviewer maybe? Who cares though I shouldn’t be paying attention to her life. Then her phone rings. I am still sitting without my food by the way. She says something that sounds like “merhaba.” My ears ring at this. It’s Turkish for “hello.” Then she confirms her poor Turkish with some other greeting related things.
So it is just me and her, in this small place, her talking to some Turkish asshole, and me sitting there listening to this chick. She tells this Turkish guy (Turks really like to bang white blonde’s) how this Greek place is sooo good (it’s not) and how authentic everything is (it wasn’t). He pretends to listen. I can feel this through the phone.
She talks about how she just got off her job (it’s 11 AM), I still don’t know what she does but I can tell you it’s useless. Most of us do useless things though. She goes on to tell this Turk about blah blah blah, I’m not that kind of girl anymore, all the while fueling his gigantic Turkish ego. Turks like it when white women tell them no, let’s take it slow.
Anyways, through all this I’m thinking, I should casually walk by and say something in Turkish. Then she’ll know that I know some Turkish too. That will make me really cool, and I’ll just walk away without turning back. This thought process went through my head. Why? Because I like to boost my Persian ego by giving hints to others about how cool I am.
I’m not who I thought I was
Don’t worry, this blog isn’t going to be about crises all the time. But it more about reflection. Afterall, I am in the winter of my life and it is time to take tally.
I was walking around Oakland, well…I’ve been walking around Oakland and I’ve been looking at restaurants to go to. I’ve been discounting a lot of restaurants based on criteria that was never important to me…vegetables. In fact if it’s a place that sells BBQ, gumbo, soul food, prime rib, chicken halves, sausages, steak…I tend to stay away.
This is not that new a thing for me in terms of recency, I’ve been avoiding meat since December. But it is new in relation to the length of my life and the love of meats on the grill. Maybe this is another piece of evidence that I am becoming…well…a pussy. That or more aware of my impending death and how the choices I make now affect my heart disease later.
