Abu Musa's Chilled Blog

Friday, April 07, 2006

The second half of a day in the life of a mad man called Al

Unfortunately, I made an empty promise on the previous post that If I made it through the day I would complete the post. Well, empty promises are exactly that, they should not be kept, completing the post would defeat the whole object of an empty promise, they intrinsically tell you their own outcome. So why should I complete the post?

But it’s not that easy is it? I’m not going to get away without finishing this post am I? Serves me right for having such a big mouth.

Well here goes.

1.00 pm (cont..)

The guy who is showing me his process is on a roll, he’s flying through screens explaining all sorts, he’s cracking jokes and having a great time. What he doesn’t realise is that I’m barely conscious. I figured he would probably realise this after 20th silence after the 20th joke, but no. Full steam ahead, this boy’s determined to enjoy himself. I felt quite bad really, it’s almost like no one’s sat with him before and he’s so excited, if he’s not careful I think he will burst a blood vessel in a minute. Not that I don’t like a laugh or a joke, just when you’re this sleepy, the funniest thing is most certainly silence.

1.15 pm

I don’t often take lunch, primarily because I’m new to this building and I hate eating alone. I physically can’t sit alone in a canteen and eat on my own, I feel like the saddest person alive, in the saddest corner of the saddest planet that not even one person would eat with. Perhaps I’m too self-conscious, but before I end up crying in my chips I’d rather skip this whole scenario.

However, to survive I need food to keep me going, so what can you do, I can’t eat junk everyday can I? The wife would beat me to a pulp if I did that.

However, there was once a bright spark who had this same problem, he invented a solution that would help millions for centuries to come, something which fulfils every need for the internal body. Something which provides all the vitamins and minerals needed for a week in one healthy serving. Yes! It’s the Cheese and Onion Pie.

Now the pie solves all my problems, it fulfils my need for hot food, I can take it to my desk and munch away on it until my heart is content hence no need for crying in the canteen. And last but not least, it tastes unbelievable!

So off I toddle in pursuit of my pie.

The only problem with purchasing a pie each day is being served by the same person. There’s this girl who sells the pies, and slowly she has developed a slightly apathetic look towards me like “here he comes for his pie” I think sometimes she picks it up and holds out her hand for the cash before I’ve even spoken, in fact as soon as she sees my head pop out of the door, maybe even as she hears my footsteps on the stairs.

It’s horrible to be discriminated against. She’s some kind of pie-cist, I can feel it in my bones.

So today, l decide to use some new tactics.

I walk through the door as per usual and approach the counter as per usual. She looks at me and I can see what she’s thinking “here he comes for his pie again”. I decide to counter this by looking around the shelves behind her for something to throw her off track, I then see her next thought bubble appear “look at him pretend he wants something else, I’m gonna chuck this pie at him in a minute”. Like all true tacticians I switch tactics again and decide to use some words this time “Can I have a hmmmmmmmm” I figured if the hmmm lasts long enough she may think I’m genuinely after something different, then all of a sudden she says: “what do you want?”

“Pie please”

I hold out money and trudge off down the stairs with my pie, it was a brave battle but I’m afraid she’d won this one. I retreated to my desk and cried into my pie.

1.30 pm

Time for Dhur, time to be uplifted, time to forget that traumatic pie experience.

There’s a quaint little prayer room upstairs and Masha’Allah a nice group of brothers who always attend the Jam’ah. But there’s a slight problem, what is it this time I hear you say?

Well, just before you enter the prayer room there is a small lobby in which people put there shoes. There’s not much air in there and it’s a tight little space. This is severely compounded by the fact that one of the brothers has slightly smelly shoes, well actually that’s an understatement; I think three brothers barely made it alive the other day! Now I’ve tried to figure out which of the regular six pairs of shoes contains the boots of eternal stench, but short of smelling each one I don’t think there’s a way to do this.

And the last thing I want is to be on my knees smelling shoes when everyone else comes out from praying- it’s a scene I don’t even want to imagine. I’ve considered dropping some form of perfume in each shoe to help, or even setting them alight, forcing the brothers to buy new shoes. But neither of these are practical and the latter may just get me fired and arrested.

Looks like I just have to brave it, I open the corridor door and take my last gasp of fresh air, I kick my shoes off and run for the prayer room, I feel the stench overtake me as my head gets lighter and lighter and then finally I succumb and loose all feeling in my body, at which point I have reached the prayer area- time to take another breath. Ahhhhh fresh air.

These guys like to pray their salahs relatively fast, forget extra supplications and kushu, just concentrate on your hamstrings and your ligaments.

2.00 pm

Back to my desk and the kind man who’s showing me what to do is in full swing again. My head is so slow, his torrent of words is now a blur and his laugh is like a punch in the ear. However, there is one thing drawing me towards him. that shoulder looks so appealing. I could snuggle right into it, wrap my arms around his neck and go to sleep. I drool as I stare at his shoulder, oh the warmth, oh the the peace as I slowly edge my way towards it. Then as he turns around and notices I’m an inch away from him, he gives me a slight look wondering which side I bat for, and then continues with his tornado of words.. I needless to say have to settle for my own shoulder, I return slowly back to my own place and begin to slouch in my chair. A moment of weakness could have led to a lifetime of madness. Readers be warned!

3.00 pm

In between stints of sleep, I surf to keep the time ticking, ebay, islamiblog you name it, anything to get me through the last few minutes. I look over and my friend is still talking, poor guy.

3.30 pm

My eyes shoot open, my heart skips a beat and I sit up on my chair- hometime! Wohoooooo
These feelings of immense pleasure just cannot be described.

I set off into the car park, unlock the car and set off on my journey home. 25 minutes later I arrive home, I shut the front door without looking back.

Welcome to one of my average days.

Now if that was interesting, I can’t wait to tell you what happened at home ;-)

He says in an empty promisingly kind of way……………..


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