Don't feel like dancing

A great big thanks to our first guests of this edition of Shark Nibbles, Scissor Sisters.

On an entirely unrelated topic, I wonder if I could say that I enjoy dancing as much as The Next Bloke. So, I say, I'll just ask him. How about it?

Sounds about right, ol' bean!

Always a pleasure to have you with us here, The.


What are you been up to, these days?

Same old, same old. Triviality and banality keep me busy alright.

I see. So, pray tell, The, how do you like a spitrity ride?

Why, I like it well enough. It's not something I'd go any great lengths for, but I'll enjoy one every now and again.

Very well. How about dancing?

Well, you see, Shark, the thing is, these days, dancing has become, I'm dare say, more of a staple of the elites and less of the common man's indulgence. As so, I, as a representative of the widest stratus of what would only claim to be an unstrsatified society, haven't done much dancing, really. Unless you call that spastic flailing and endless, mindless head bobbing you'd find at any regular loud, smoke-filled, barely lit watering hole at rather unhealthy hours dancing, that is.

But do you like it?

I'm afraid I don't, really.

Thank you very much for your insight, The.

Thanks for having me, mate.

And that concludes our second guest's participation for this edition. Mr. Bloke leaves us today with the knowledge that he does not, in fact, enjoy dancing. I, however, beg to differ. Having found a group that, twice a month, gathers for traditional and folk dancing, I must say I rather like it. It's fun, it's a reat way to meet people, and it seems like a fair workout, as in less than two hours I managed to sweat the most I had ever sweated since my trip to Karnak (except for any trip to the gym, that is).

As a bit of trivia, this was also the first situation that I remember ever being in which the gender ratio was unbalanced that way. Draw your conclusions.

Pax vobiscum atque vale.

ArabianShark would like to invite all of his readers to join him on his next dancing trip. Contact for more info.

My current location

I've been known to mention some cars on this blog, notably Aston Martins and Jaguars. You should know I'm not a motor enthusiast, not really. In high school, when most of my classmates could name make, model, horsepower, driver's age ans god knows how many more stats for every car on the block, I could only listen idly and have no idea what the hell it all meant. Even in my senior year, when my mother figured she'd get a Honda Civic Type R (I hear it was a good little ride. It had 200 horse power. I never figured out where the horses went), when, suddenly, I got a bit of a boost in popularity with "the motor clique", I couldn't be bothered to learn about cars. Nowadays, I finally figured where the horses go (in the paddock, of course), but most of the technical data and all still sounds like a lot of gibberish to me. And yet...

There's this TV show I like. It's called Tog Gear. Now, I enjoy a spirity ride as much as The Next Bloke (who is schedulled for a guest appearence soon, stay tuned for that), but that is just not enough to watch Top Gear for the cars. I do enjoy the humour they manage to infuse in every challenge and review. And, I'll admit it, I do rather like some of the cars.

So sometime ago, I believe I was watching something Top Gear related (probably on YouTube), when the host commented that whatever car he was testing (I believe it might have been a Lamborghini. I won't swear by it, though...) was "faster than a Zonda". I had no idea what a Zonda was, and was slightly curious about it. Later, in an entirely unrelated context, I came across the likeness of a Zonda F, and thought it looked pretty neat. I must have made a note to look into it more, but really couldn't be bothered to look it up (even if Wikipedia is so convenient. That should tell you how excited I was about it).

So today I was browsing about Top Gear's website video section, looking for Jamie Oliver's part in their segment "Star in a Reasonably Priced Car" (now cooking, that I like), when I came across some videos pertaining to the Zonda F. Eagerly (though not too much, really), I went to watch them. Immediately (well, after a brief loading time, at any rate), I was met with the message "THE VIDEO YOU ARE TRYING TO WATCH CANNOT BE VIEWED FROM YOUR CURRENT COUNTRY OR LOCATION".

Well, first off, you don't have to shout, I can hear you just fine, even all the way here in my current country or location. Second, while I understand that some restrictions are in place to prevent some content from being accessed by some countries, those measures are usually imposed by governments to enforce their local laws. Thrid, come on, it's just sports cars, it's not like I'm trying to unearth any state secrets. Fourth, that's just how bad we have it here, in my current country or location. We can't even watch a video review for a sports car we wouldn't be likely to affor in a few lifetimes. Thank you, my current country or location, for crushing even our fantasies, let alone our dreams, hope or aspirations.

And you wonder whay I'm so intent on leaving this sinkhole. Even Teh Internets won't come near us.

Pax vobiscum atque vale.

ArabianShark would like, at this point, to remind you all who can read this that you are in a priviledged current country or location, for you can access my blog. Don't you think this is a decent trade-off for all the stuff you're missing out? No? Me neither...

My poor dear...

Really, some people just can't get a break... In fact, the "people" bit isn't even a requirement.

So a few weeks ago, back when I was mildly worried that my cute little kitty was way past six months old and still had no signs of ever having been in heat, she displaied some unusual behaviour I was a bit startled by. She stood and walked always very close to the ground, but kept her hips rather high up in the air. Also, her hind paws were quite frantic in what could be described as a digging pattern. Lastly, she kept mewing, but not a loud "meyow" kind of mew, rather a subtle and guttural "murr" kind of mew. Unsurprisingly, this was her in heat. Good-o!

Then, after a week of looking agonyzingly uncomfortable at all times and acting a bit pissy (I feel like there's a suitable pun, but I'll leave that to my editor), she had a blissfully calm week... followed by another week in heat. But wait, it's even worse the second time around! By now, she could utter her strange "murr" mews loudly. The previous week I had been mulling it over in my head: to spay or not to spay? The second heat, plus a very odd-feeling lump in the scruff of her neck, very much made the decision for me: spay it is. So I had it done oevr the weekend and went to pick her up from the vet the next week. Naturally, she had had the fur on her belly shaven and wore a large adhesive over her stitches, but I could hardly be bothered by that. The big shaving on her neck, however, was something a bit different.

See, Kunoichi (that's the cat's name, if you hadn't figured), is a persian, and, as such, has a great thick fur coat. When they shaved it off (to extract the lump in her neck, of course), they made quite the dent in her, so much so that it really does look like there's a piece of cat missing. Now the skin underneath is pinkish, but the hair on top began growing back much faster than on her belly, and being quite dark, it made the sin look almost greyinsh. Combine that with the somewhat crude stitching (not shoddy or botched or anything, it healed perfectly, but it looked a little crude at the time) and she just looked like a zombie cat from a bad 80's horror movie. And then our troubles begun... well, hers, really.

For a week she wore the adhesive on her belly, and on a Friday we went to have it removed at the vet. The thing is, it must have been bothering her, and she tried to lick it off. Now, a cat's tongue is atually coarser than fine sandpaper, and, naturally, she licked herself to dire consequences: dermatitis. It's not as bad as it sounds, but it might be a little nastier. Still, it was good luck within bad luck, as she only got a large abrasion instead of an infection. Still, she was made to wear a lampshade collar so she doesn't lick her wounds any further and I have to wipe her sides (which, by the way, were further shaved) with a compress and some solution and rub a healing salve of sorts on her abrasions... twice a day. I don't mind, really, but Kuni-chan gets pretty impatient after one side, so she's not happy about the arrangement. Luckily for her, she's pretty much healed, and should be off that coller in a matter of days. Until then, she can't groom herself and her fur (what's left of it, really) is all oily and messy, making her look dirty and, I reckon, feel dirty. The poor thing has been depressed to no end. Furthermore, with so much of her lovely fur gone, I think she's cold all the time.

On the bright side, her sutures have healed perfectly, and the lump we had off was just some inflamatory reaction, possibly to a jab, so, no big deal.

And before you give me any lip for having her spaied, I'll have you know that I have, in fact, reduced the probability of her developing breast cancer by about 90%. Sure, she might gain weight now, but not only is that not such a bad thing, because she's so skinny, mind you, but also we can prevent that with adequate diet. Also, I don't think the opportunity for breeding would present much to her at any rate, seeing as I can afford to take care of her, but not her and a male companion. Also, if you think castration is inhumane, think back to the last time that you were a bit late for a German class and absolutely had to stop over at the ATM becasue the tecaher had been so good to order the manuals in bulk and would have the students pay that day in class, but the idiot blonde in front of you regarded ATMs as some form of sorcery or witchcraft to be handled with extreme care and precaution and couldn't bloody hurry up if the keypad was on fire and the sword of Damocles was hanging over her on a short timer. Then tell me you wouldn't have liked her mother to have been spaied...

Pax vobiscum atque vale.

ArabianShark is very, very displeased at the level of orgnisation and care displaied by some (definitely not all, but certainly some) of his teachers this semester. Also, I'd like to point out that a man who is employed by one University, yet runs a course at another, different University and is found out of the country for weeks at the time because he's on the payrole for yet another University at a whole different continent has three jobs - but doesn't work. Because, frankly, with three jobs, where would he find the time? At least he isn't given any students to fuck with overseas.