I have a reputation for being eloquent. Allow me to quote a bit of an exchange which took place yesterday between myself and a friend:
Friend: I’m a nice guy.
Tololy: That’s good. I like nice guys. I mean, mean guys are not nice, therefore, I don’t like them.
Friend: Well said.
Tololy: You get the idea.
From this day on, I shall limit all communication with other humans to the written form.
To assuage my deep desire for animal companionship that does not have the shape of a cat, I bought a hamster today and called him Jongar. Jongar, in case you do not know, is an anime character sort of like iron man in a show called Astroganga. The word itself, Jongar, is nowadays used in Jordan among the young to mean “cool, strong, or good at something.” It’s sort of like 7areega back in the day.
Jongar is identical to Ebichu, the famous anime hamster who keeps the house for her mistress. The only real difference between Jongar and Ebichu is that Jongar does not talk or do household chores, and he is male. He also did not have his own show, up until now.
My brother got a hamster too, and called him Hazza3. In the following video which I created tonight, conveniently titled Jongar and Hazza3: The Wheel is Mine, Bitch!, you will see the two fighting over the wheel until they learn how to share. The choice of music is not that perplexing if you know that my brother and I think that our hamsters are gay and have a thing for each other, which would explain why they use the wheel at the same time…and other things as well.
Not only did we find out that we are, like, neighbors, but we also had a ton of fun a couple of days ago. Omar is one of the most creative people I have ever met, and he’s funny and friendly and everything entertaining. If you’re thinking of meeting a blogger, and you’re a single girl under 20 (but over 16, please), email him.
He did not pay me to post this, and he doesn’t even know that I am posting this. Don’t nobody tell him.
A bit of the Arabic section of this blog via Wordle:
<a href=”http://wordle.net/gallery/wrdl/89922/Arabic”
<img src=”http://wordle.net/thumb/wrdl/89922/Arabic”
The complete Quran:
<a href=”http://wordle.net/gallery/wrdl/89952/The_Quran”
<img src=”http://wordle.net/thumb/wrdl/89952/The_Quran”
The Quran via Wordle generated single letters and not a single word resulted. Weird, right? Click on the images to see them bigger. They’re beautiful.
Here’s an engaging “word toy” called Wordle.
Wordle is a toy for generating “word clouds” from text that you provide. The clouds give greater prominence to words that appear more frequently in the source text. You can tweak your clouds with different fonts, layouts, and color schemes. The images you create with Wordle are yours to use however you like. You can print them out, or save them to the Wordle gallery to share with your friends.
I tried to create my own word cloud but I am having a bit of a problem with my Java settings. You try it and share with me!
Mosaic instructor shows my sister a picture of a couple’s portrait done in mosaic. The mosaic shows a 40-ish couple wearing sun glasses and waving at us in the manner of Kim Jong Il.
Tololy: What’s this?
Sister: It’s a portrait.
Tololy: Oh wow…who are these people?
Sister: They’re the tourists who commissioned the work.
Tololy: They had their own portrait done in mosaic?
Sister: Apparently.
Tololy: Wow…that’s pretty narcissistic!
Sister: I guess…
Tololy: It’s totally something I would do.
Sister: That’s what I was thinking.
I don’t know why but I kinda felt I should be offended, except I really wasn’t. Funny.
Something absolutely absurd just happened in my flickr photo stream. I haven’t been using flickr since last July, and switched to Picasa after flickr wouldn’t accept my online payment to become a pro member. I am too sensitive when online applications are concerned and can’t handle rejection, so I dumped flickr (or was it the other way around?).
So a few minutes ago I decided to post a couple of pictures to flickr just for fun. When the uploading process finished, I gasped for breath at the sight of one of my private pictures uploaded by mistake! The HORROR! I panicked, cursed repeatedly under my breath, and decided to immediately delete the picture and forget this episode ever happened. I figured there is no way anyone could have seen the picture because it had been uploaded only seconds earlier. I rushed to click “delete” but found a little surprise waiting for me: a comment on the picture from one of my contacts. ALREADY!
Damage control: delete the picture, send commenter email denying anything to do with it, and sign with “what happens in my flickr, stays in my flickr.” I should have added “I know where you live. I live where you live.” …me and my stupid little black dress vs. flickr adventures. Ugh.
My car’s bumper sticker reads:
It was either that or this:
And I’m not a fruitcake. So all risks considered, I went for the disgusting, unrefined, but humorous, attitude involving mucus. I’m real classy like that.
I was just expressing my all-absorbing feelings of boredom and hopelessness to someone. “I am so bored I can kill myself for the fun of it. It’s driving me mad, I am dying slowly, I am bored out of my head, etc. etc.”
What did he say to alleviate my pain?
“Go see the camels.“
…seriously?
Remember when I wrote about Mansaf and its significance in Jordanian culture? I put three pictures of a Mansaf made by my sister’s mother-in-law, they got everyone drooling and some others having heart attacks.
Well, today I was casually talking to my other sister while she opened some forwards sent to her. And lo and behold!, my Mansaf pictures were among them. Here they are with their respective comments:
I feel proud that my pictures are being forwarded.This must be how it feels like to be the forwards favorite Jameed.
When I was younger, and had longer hair, I used to enjoy scaring my nieces and nephews. I invented a faceless, hairy monster called “Brake” who would show up whenever I wanted to have a good laugh. I used to wear a black robe, flip my then long hair on my face, put on glasses, and crawl on the floor from behind doors making low and scary sounds.
I remember when I was a kid, there was an older guy in our neighborhood who some times put on a black robe and a maimed gorilla mask and went around running and screaming. That used to freak me out so much and I always cried when I saw him, despite my mother’s attempts to assure me it was just a normal guy underneath the costume.
It is only now that I think I was doing something pretty cruel, and that I might have scarred these kids for life. Who would do such a thing for fun, except a demented aunt like me? But in my defense, I stopped doing “Brake” a long time ago.
And now I found a new monster! I made fake eyeballs like the ones I blogged about earlier today, and wore my brother’s bank-robber’s mask and put on a black hoodie. I am taking my scary activities online. Be afraid, be very afraid.
The tilted head pose and lack of facial features sort of remind me of Jason.
Another one of my quirky posts sharing unnecessary but possibly life-changing knowledge. You’ll thank me for this later.
Foamy is a grey squirrel that rants and raves and swears and makes me laugh every time I watch him. I love him and I want to marry him one day. He is the star of Neurotically Yours series by iLL WiLL PreSS. He is owned by a Goth Punk girl named Germaine.
I always watch Foamy ranting and raving whenever I am down, you’re gonna love him too:
ROFLING.
You can watch Foamy either on the official iLL WiLL PreSS site or over at YouTube.
That squirrel’s got some attitude.
My new key chain after yesterday’s little incident.
You know you can never win when you’re competing against a cat in gracefulness over snow.
Cat walk:
Tololy walk:
And today’s snow forecast:
Why waste my time and risk catching pneumonia making a huge, beer-belly snowman?
I made the smallest, cutest snow babe instead:
The picture should reveal how small she is compared to the environment. She is resting on the roof ledge, enjoying the weather and saying hello to the kids in the street. She has a black heart though. Go figure!
If you don’t have an avatar yet, under what rock have you been living?! Check the following sites out and create your own right now. I think mine look groovy:
I am so amused by the following two clips, I think I will add one to my Tololy’s Bio page…it’s a little something extra, click on Play and I will talk:
Funky and egocentric, yeah? My favorite site in the world right now is Gizmoz. Make your own avatars and share them!
No, this is not a review of Manson’s disappointing music video + song. It is a really funky rendering of the perverto with tons of makeup and an adolescent lovemate:
The highlight of my day.
I could not think of anything to blog about yesterday. I cannot think of anything today. As a result, this is one post void of valuable/intelligible content. No finding a cure for cancer or a solution for poverty and famine today –sorry folks.
I am demonstrating strange vacuum behavior.
You know I steal inspiration sometimes, right? Well now you do, anyway. Some people are just so very insanely creative and they make it seem like it’s so very insanely normal to be that creative, right? Have you met any of these people? Well I have, anyway… Not “met met” but sort of “knew of the existence of that rare specimen of mindblowers.” You know what I mean, right?
Scott Adams is one of the people who belong to my GG: Genius Gallery. I just came up with the whole concept, but you did not know that before I said this and you thought I had some trace of creativity or lovely-name-giving or at least some long-term planning tendencies.
So Adams has an amazing cartoon strip, Dilbert, that I follow religiously. He also has a blog which he started in March this year, and I was just reading what he wrote there. Not only do his cartoons make me laugh myself to tears at the office, because I relate to them very very much, but they make my colleagues look at me in a strange way and think I am deranged…especially the new technician. And now the blog!
In his blog, I read that Adams wants to be a Sheikh. He wants to be called Sheikh Adams, here’s the hilarious post:
Traditionally, the word sheikh has been a title of respect for an old, scholarly, tribal elder. Lately it refers to anyone who is a leader. If they keep lowering the bar, you have a good chance of someday being one.
Sheikh is a great word on several levels. First, there’s the silent h on the end that practically says “fuck you.” It doesn’t even pretend to be working. I like consonants with attitude.
Second, the word just rolls off the tongue in a pleasing way. It sounds like my impression of an arrow flying through the air and hitting its target. Try it at home: sheeeeeeek.
My new goal is to be known as Sheikh Adams. For that, I’ll have to become a leader of some sort. Unfortunately, I am not evil enough to inspire people to do things that are not in their best interest, the way a proper leader would: “Ignore those machine guns and charge the hill!”
The best I can do is to inspire my followers to do what they want to do anyway. Today I would like each one of you to eat, poop, and have an orgasm. (Not at the same time.) Once you have completed the Holy Trinity, or whatever you call it in your house, you may refer to me as Sheikh Adams.
Is that enough disturbing juxtaposition for one day?
Ahhh… I’ve always wanted to be a She-Sheikh too, so I doodled the dream:
I was at a governmental department this morning getting something done. The receptionist referred me to an old man who then referred me to a much younger guy who, interestingly, looked cute yet dignified.
This fellow was processing my papers, had me sign a couple, asked me some questions, and so on. He was very professional and really looked the part with his name tag and white shirt and black tie. The office was a quirky small space with three disks in it and piles of papers on each. The two other office people were having falafel sandwiches and orange juice for breakfast, and I saw a slice of tomato slip from one sandwich but a mouth quickly grabbed it.
Aside from that semi-comic sketch of breakfast in the “da2era,” everything else was very polished and neat. People walked in and out and the person handling my papers helped them out very quickly. Then, out of nowhere, I heard
Lil’ mama, show me how you move it,
Go ahead put ya back into it,
Do ya thang like there aint nothin to it,
Shake..shake.. shake that ass girl.
The guy continued to process my papers and I looked around for the source of the catchy beat but I couldn’t find it. Then, just as 50 Cent was saying You can have anything you want … If you shake that ass for me, Mr.Office Guy reached into his drawer and grabbed a cell phone to answer a call. He was very serious about it, too.
The contrast between the setting, the looks of Office Guy, the way he talked, and his ringtone was stunning. It was very amusing to hear him end virtually every sentence with “Inshallah” and “Hamdulillah” when his ringtone was très naughty. It was very much like this famous video:
So my last post, which was a shot at expressing my “amusement” at the utterly dull Miss Egypt 2007 promo, turned out to be a big thing. But considering the weirdness levels in my life and the numerous, numerous times I had to ask myself “what are the odds for THAT to happen?,” I am surprised only a shwai.
First of all, the post was confusing to some people. I think they attached too much meaning to it. I only meant to “do” one of the contestants for Miss Egypt 2007. You see, they ran that promo on one of the gazillion music satellite stations and it bored me to death. How on earth are people supposed to pick ONE contestant out of the, what 20?, nesting dolls that look the same, talk the same, and basically do not stand out from one another?
And they say beauty paginates are “also about character.” I don’t even want to get to that.
Second of all, a dear Egyptian friend of mine is actually friends with contestant number four. Yup. The number I picked randomly to star in my pathetic sketch is an actual human being that one of my friends is friends with. He asked me if I was targeting her in specific, I said of course I wasn’t. It was a random choice…
… Or was it?
May all the weirdness in my life never cease to be. This is better than movies!
(Girl appears on screen and pictures of her wearing tons of makeup and huge fake-diamond earrings flash across the screen. She is wearing jeans and a skimpy top. She starts talking in a sweet voice).
Hi ismi Tololy Tutunai wi 3andi 22 sana… *leans to the side a little bit*
Badres wi bashtaghal fi Jordan wi I love my job… *plays with her hair*
Ba7eb el eraya wel shopping wel ketaba awi. Wi kaman ba7eb el ‘3ona wel ra2s geddan… *tilts head*
Vote for me, cody arba3a… *does number four with her fingers, very delicately*
- I -
Lately I’ve been wanting to be simple.
I don’t know why but I know I like to experiment.
This is not a poem. It’s also not a song.
- II -
Now I have to go to class and I don’t feel like it.
The professor is an idiot.
He reminds me of the naked king.
So pumped up and yet so worthless.
- III -
Not so long ago I posted in a forum.
I posted my opinions in God and people.
The moderator deleted the post.
He/she/it asked me not to talk about religion.
There was a rule, not to discuss religion.
I wasn’t discussing religion. God is not religion.
- IV -
Yesterday a classmate told me something.
She told me I had strange opinions.
I asked her what she meant by that.
She said she feels I am mysterious and exotic.
It was because I showed the girls my hair.
I told them they “don’t want to know what I believe in.”
What marvels? What strange opinions?
Playful hair maybe. Yeah.
- V -
Once I wondered if I would turn into an orange.
It’s an old post, you can dig it up.
Now I wonder if I am, at all.
Thinking is overrated, passion is underrated.
And too much literature spoils the mind.
Also cigarettes and perfume.
Hardly moments ago, I was corresponding with a friend of mine through SMS — which is by far my favorite means of communication. I really enjoy the challenge of using up the meager 125 characters to the maximum, with style and character-reflective creativity.
And no, I am not overdoing it. I seriously see each SMS in that light. It is like a test to my communication and language abilities, and I never write “U” instead of “you.” I write proper and I preserve my character (one that doesn’t use ^_^ or says wsup).
“I am great but lazy around the edges… I don’t have stuff of the nature you speak of. Just now someone remarked that my phone rings a lot.”
And that was my inspirational post for the day…
I will blog when I reach home I will blog if I reach home in one piece, so help me God.
Blogs usually say something about their authors. What is your impression of The Box? Is it…
1- Evil
2- Creative
3- Too serious
4- Sophisticated
5- Nonsense
6- (Something else, do share!)
Thank you for taking part in this opinion survey. Please post your opinion in the comments section and if it’s too special/private do drop me your mind at tutunai@gmail.com or use the form in The Contact in my sidebar. Grazie!
This material you’re about to be enlightened about should not be viewed in the best intention or by minors. Do not share this link with your little sister or any one of your parents no matter how much you dislike them.
I cannot express how fantastically out of this world JoeCartoon is. This is the one and only site where you meet the all-too-famous stoneflies, Joemomma, and lickin’ toads. The language is not user-friendly, so if you’re too sensitive for some fun you had better keep out of the Joe kingdom and suffer utter ignorance that will still torture you on your death bed.
Drama? The patient get to see more.
I propose you start with the stoneflies, and if that passes smoothly you may want to check Joemomma’s featured content then you, umm, take it from there if you’re still not totally grossed-out.
This is a website I grew up loving. Stoned flies? A frog in a blender? Gerbil mania? It’s a bloody mess – one day I will have my plush SuperFly doll and my own nutty toy factory. Mark my words.
Knock yourselves out, everyone!
I’ve been following a great site called Flying Cat, and the people behind it are excessively creative. They design amd manufacture funky unmatched toys. I waited for the site to be launched for a long, long time and if anything, that’s an indication of how toy-twisted I could be. Maybe I should consider a career in the toy world.
Now I’d do anything for a Winkus Cardy.”A Winkus is a Sloth Monkle which was thought extinct for many years until recent spottings in the eastern regions of the UK.“
Which one would you go for?
- Bunniguru
- Opera Dude
- Cosmouse
- Rock Boy
- Fortune Pork
- Zeebzeebs
-Mini Treehouse V2
-Who’s Next Girl
- Winkus Cardy
- Alan
- One Horned Beast
Make sure you check them out before you answer, just a tip.
CYBORG - A person who is partially flesh and bone, but has one or more robotic appendages electronically linked to his or her nerves. Often, a cyborg is said to be half human and half machine. For example, the “Terminator” character is a robot covered with human tissue–this is not a true cyborg. As well, a human with an artificial limb that is removable is not a cyborg. For a true cyborg it is hard to tell internally where the human ends and the robotic parts begin, and hard to separate one from the other.
As created by Peter.
Now this is funny – my brother decided to launch his own blog to write about, guess who, me!
He says he will avenge himself (for what, I do not know) and will dedicate his blog to talking about my flaws ( I have none, so I cannot really relate to this point ) and reveal all to the eager masses. He says he has a lot of juicy insider information on my daily habits and pet peeves, insecurities, catch phrases – you name it, he’s got it.
This makes me feel like a Jackson but I don’t go around … uh, you know. My brother is just another troubled and absolutely clueless Tawjihi student who has issues with the way I type but really, I’d like to see him try to launch that blog. There is no such thing as bad publicity!
Right?
It’s play time!
Care for , just a suggestion here, a 1000-piece-Cat-Mania-50×70cm puzzle to wear the day away?
I have spent around 15 hours so far on this 10$ passtime, now I am thinking of calling the manufacturers for some compensation of some sort. Do not smile, I don’t mean to entertain you.
Despite my frequent warnings, my employers seem to refuse to pay heed to the fact that if they leave me alone in the office, odd things will happen. I did not have orange juice this morning, only apple juice, and naturally this latter substance has little or no effect on me. Therefore, I only set up my camera in different corners of the office and had it take pictures of me and my surroundings. I made “interesting” photocopies, too. To uphold dignity, I can only share this decent picture.
Playful, as usual, but now the joy shall spread across the net. Ever reflected on the horrific meanings of casual nursery rhymes? If not, then be forewarned ye Mother Goose fans. I bring you my Tilly Putty Thought for today, Thursday January 19th. Enjoy.
It is absurd to think that one of the most popular rhymes out there, “Ring around the rosie” probably traces its roots to the 1300’s Black Plague that killed millions of people. Ashes, Ashes.
Ring around the rosie
A pocket full of posies
Ashes, ashes,
We all fall down
Not to forget the three blind, bleeding mice, who run around the kitchen. That’s entertainment for the young and innocent, oh yeah, the kids love this one. My personal favourite is line four, that’s right, the one with the carving knife.
Three blind mice, Three blind mice.
See how they run!See how they run!
They all ran after the farmer’s wife,
She cut off their tails with a carving knife.
Did you ever see such a sight in your life?
As three blind mice!
Then there was the poor egg, Humpty Dumpty, who fell and shattered his head and was beyond repair.
Humpty-Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty-Dumpty had a great fall;
Threescore men and threescore more
Cannot place Humpty-Dumpty as he was before.
In Arabic, the nursey rhyme about slaughtering the pigeons is most delightful. It is used to put children to sleep, and made part of one of Fairouz’s songs.
??? ???? ??? ????
? ?????? ??? ??????
??? ?? ???? ?? ????
???? ?? (?????) ?????Rough Translation:
Sleep, sleep
And I will slaughter the pigeons for you
Go away, you pigeons,
I was bluffing to put (name of child) to sleep
The pigeons are not slaughtered after all, that has to be a good thing, no?
Accurate, ladies and gentlemen. This is what you teach your children, those are the images you plant in their heads, and then, what’s the easiest way out? Blame it on Manson, Satanists, the government, the media, or a black sheep of your own choice. This was my Tilly Putty Thought, now let’s all fall down.
Alone in the office, never imagined this happening, not in a zillion light years. My chair has beautiful prowess that I unearthed but this morning. I placed it in the centre of the room, and made it go round and round. Round and round it went, my chair.
Humanity has advanced, when it has advanced, not because it has been sober, responsible, and cautious, but because it has been playful, rebellious, and immature.
- Tom Robbins
I am in a playful mood, and by the same token I take everything to be as playful as I am today. The window suddenly opened and a gush of cold Decemebr air sent a chill down my spine. The door responded by closing instantly, and I had my own little storm, in the office. Just the two of us, alone.
This phenomenal fur jacket adds to the relish of the weather, the black nail polish adorning the very tips of my now-pinkish-now-bluish fingers is out of this world. Controversialist? Mayhaps. Witch? Add wicked.
The last T Play Box session ended a month ago, on October 28th. Now that I have had my dose of, well, something, I feel like playing.
One of the things that get to me the most, and just make me tick, is when someone walking ahead of me suddenly brakes. For that reason I would like all pedestrians to install rear lights, and to use them as often as possible. This kind of an “incident” happens so frequently when I am minding my own walking business at the university campus.
Most of the time it is a veiled girl, or a group of them, casually chatting and then they stop. It is also noteworthy that they like to halt their progress near, or at, stairs and/or very narrow routes. Why this happens so often, and in such a seemingly organized fashion, I have no clue. All I know is that it usually ruins my mood because I cannot understand it.
There was this morning some eight months ago when I opened my eyes with such a lovely mood. I promised myself that no matter what happens that day at university, I would not let it taint this perfect state of mind and spirit that I was in. I went to my classes, saw my buddies, had my junk food “food”, and then it happened.
I was walking, a very simple action, you know. I started from point A, and in my mind I was set to reach point B. I opened the transparent doors that so often push me backwards because, you see, I am not exactly a bodybuilder, and I trod on asphalt roads and my clothes got caught in the untrimmed bushes in ceramic pots here and there, and all was a generally pleasant experience.
Then an obstacle named “stairs” came my way and I was determined to overcome it, and there they were. Three, bigger, girls clustered around the mouth of the stairs in such a way that nobody could pass. They were talking, “Did you see how he…?” and I was quite uninterested in their conversation. I wanted to get to point B. I stopped by them for a minute, trying to emit as many mental messages as possible to inform them of my desire to walk by them and cease this forced eavesdropping. My mental station was not functional that morning, or so it seemed.
Body to the rescue! I resorted to my body language and I sort of kept moving in my place to show them that they are preventing me from reaching point B. That came short of success as well. So I figured I should use my tongue, right then and there, and I really dislike using my tongue on strangers. Most often such occasions don’t end nicely, and I could feel a bit bad afterwards.
Then I discovered that if I said something “not nice” to them, I would break the promise I made to myself earlier on in the day. “No matter what”, remember? This was one of the toughest mornings, eight months ago, when I was in a lovely mood. I lashed the girls with my tongue and in my head I hurt them even more, they answered back but hey, that’s life. Keep away from the stairs or risk my wrath.
Welcome to yet another session inside T Play Box. I feel like posting a tilly putty thought but I do not really know what will pop in my head in the next few seconds.
One day I discovered something absolutely delicious about myself. I found out that I can reach some supernatural elevation when I consume the nectar that is orange juice.
Anyone who knows me well enough understands perfectly well what orange juice does to me. It has a strange effect on my being; it makes me a different person. I become extremely “high” and liberated to the degree that I would cross any boundaries of common rules.
I do not know what is it in orange juice that triggers this temporary insanity ( or is it sanity?) but I do know for a 100% fact that it does something to me. This is one of the reasons why I love orange juice, especially in the company of a pleasant person. It does wonders. As I type these words I hope someone would come up, someone who knows how I am like under the effect of that nectar, and tell of how I am transformed into a Tololy closer to that within, a Tololy unleashed.
In retrospect, I can sum up how the juice worked its magic on me on various occasions. I would start laughing and I would become nothing short of naughty , I am such a fun person after drinking orange juice. Why that happens, again I tell you I do not know for sure. Orange juice makes me get my freak on, now that is twisted.
Midgets, or to be politically correct, small people, are just amazing. I have been asked by Jameed to post a tilly putty thought about midgets and trampolines. I hope this doesnt come across the wrong way for I hold the utmost respect to all people regardless of color, size, race or religion. This is just a tilly putty thought, no more, no less.
Theres almost always a circus in Amman and you can bet your beans that its almost always Ukrainian. I wonder why that is. Are Ukrainian people keen on performing twisted tricks in front of peoples of other cultures? I really dont know the answer to this question, and frankly I have never been to a commercial circus in my entire life. A commercial circus is the typical mental image of a circus everyone has, a gigantic striped tent housing animals in captivity, clowns and ladies in skimpy latex clothes.
I am always in a bigger circus. You know what that is, and if you dont then youre not witty enough, dear. Do not take offense at that, I can understand that maybe you are not in the mood to be witty. Its fine, you are not ill.
I know someone who fears clowns. He was shaken up as a child after seeing a black clown doing a usual trick. I am not sure what scared him about that, I know that clowns can come in a variety of colors. My favorites are Arab clowns, simply because I meet so many. Now you can exercise your wits, dear.
I like jumping on beds and mattresses. And to my great amazement this hobby is widely adopted by circus people in a slightly modified way. But that does not satisfy Tololys picky taste. I will try to depict a verbal picture of my ideal circus.
First of all, it will have trained people who jump into fire rings once Mr.Lion snaps his beautiful black leather whip. Snap! they jump, never hesitant and never rebellious. A group of Siberian tigers monitor the scene.
It should also have an Iguana for presenter, and a good number of talking seals ordering the captive people around. Several chimps will usher the audience into the big tent and others will provide food for the trained people. Now certainly this magical circus must have a trampoline, with midgets jumping up and down on it until their brains spill out and cover the circus floor. On second thoughts, thats awfully bloody, I dont want that. I want the midgets to be part of the recruiting crew, they choose which normal sized people to be trained and for what tricks. Its their moment of glory, look at them in that circus, ordering normal sized people about and forcing them into jumping on the trampoline wearing banana leaves.
You, the 6 ft blonde over there, jump until your legs fall apart
Circus midgets like to enjoy cinnamon rolls and mango juice as they watch.
Roba was kindly the first reader to suggest “pixie dust” to be transformed into a Tilly Putty Thought. This is what became of the two words.
A pixie is one type of a supernatural being that just flies around and does different things at different times. It is somewhat like the tooth fairy, in my head. Now the tooth fairy leaves no trace but a modest amount of money for a child who lost a tooth. I think thats just pathetic. Why, you ask me.
Teeth are vital parts of the human mouth. And not only do they play a major role in grinding food and thus helping humans ,and other animals, digest that food, but they also make one look nice when one smiles. This is naturally conditioned by ones having nice teeth, because it is logical to deduce that if one has damaged yellowish teeth then ones smile wouldnt be exactly attractive. So now that we truly know the value of the human tooth, let us look at the situation of a seven year old losing a most crucial part of her face.
Lets say, in hypothesis and I wish this was true, that I am seven. One of my teeth starts having a mind of its own to the degree that whenever I eat a carrot it does a tribal dance. I wonder what could possibly be wrong with that tooth of mine and I rush to my mother to inquire about it.
Overwhelmed with fear and curiosity, I cry a bit before I disclose the matter. My mother reassures me that this is normal, she even starts telling me all about teeth and providing me with information that I did not really seek. This puts me in a state of constant wonder and I think it even traumatizes me for the rest of my life. As I do not comprehend the technique in which humans lose parts of their bodies and new parts come out in their place.
One day as I am brushing my teeth, the unstable tooth falls out. I hold it in my hand and run to my parents to show it to them. Still traumatized, I am promised a tooth fairys visit. They say she will give me money and, provided I carry out the ritual correctly and place my tooth under my pillow, will take the now useless tooth away.
I try to stay up in order to be able to spot the fairy, maybe even imprison her and ask for a ransom, but I am lulled into sweet sleep by a pixie. This pixie sprinkles some dust on my eyelids and they become utterly heavy and relaxed, and I sleep like a log.
The next morning I find a humble sum of money under my pillow. Whoever placed it there can not be serious. Only this much money in compensation for all that I have been through? I mean, even if I were to sell my tooth I would get more than this. My parents act all excited about the money when I show it to them, knowing fully well that they are pretending to be excited and are actually the comrades of the miserly tooth fairy.
I invoke the curses of heaven and those of the darkest hell to descend upon the tooth fairy. You must understand that I am only seven and I have lost a part of my body, and well, I am less than satisfied with my settlement with the tooth fairy. I raise my hands in prayer, I am about to voice my wicked supplication, but I am lulled back to sleep by the dust of that kind hearted pixie. Her magical dust sends me to worlds beyond this one and makes me forgetful of my previous temper.
X: Do you want it?Tololy: If I say I do, will you give it to me?X (smiles) : Yes…
Don’t you just love my tilly putty thoughts? I personally do. I find them to be really creative and deep. But that coming from me,the generator of my own tilly putty thoughts, is pretty expected. I must warn you though that if you plan to quote me using one of my tilly putty thoughts on a serious issue then you have gotten things all wrong. I am not to be held accountable for anything I say in my play box. I can be shallow and silly and label-sticking, since it is my play box and any one of these acts is not considered seriously. I do apologise however,if you change your mind about me once you enter my play box, that can not be helped.
Just now I opened an email titled “Salary Day”, I think they mean by that “Pay Day”. It was basically about a number of dancing icons and such, which I then interpreted,using my superhuman intellect, to be a demonstration of how ecstatic one feels when one gets paid. Take a look at the following dancing doodle.
I wonder how much this alien got paid to perform this sassy little dance. 
I once thought I saw a UFO and I rushed to my room and got my camera, quickly adjusting the video quality I taped the flying object. I said such things like ” Hello! I am Tololy” and “Hi aliens, I am here take me with you, can you hear me?”. My sister was watching TV and she wasn’t nearly as zealous as I was. She wasn’t even impressed. Then the UFO hid behind some tall trees and since it was night time I could not see it anymore. It appeared again but this time with a familiar sound. “It’s a chopper”, my sister commented. And as I was still capturing the moment and trying to decide the amount of money I will ask of the media to give to me in return for the video, I just whispered “Shhh! It’s a UFO I tell ya! just go with it”. The answer was “O.K.”.
It brings me great pain to admit that my comment was recorded. The video could not possibly be sold now that I clearly admitted it was a hoax. But since the fates tend to find it appealing to conspire against me,and to add insult to injury, even more proof was to be thrust in my face that this was indeed a chopper from a local airport. Some green and red lights started circulating around the “object”, and it got really close. It was a chopper,and there, so much for that money.
I do not think aliens would be interested in me should they ever decide to initiate contact with earthlings,that is not to say that they haven’t done that already. What could they possibly do to me that I haven’t done to myself? Multiple piercings? Mental orgasms? Identity theft? Metamorphosis?
Someone just threatened to kill me.
Someone: I will come and kill you
Tololy: Are you threatening me?
Someone: Yes.
Tololy: O.K.
Welcome to yet another tilly putty thought. I think the reason why I created my play box and the whole “tilly putty thought” concept is because I feel my other entries are serious. I am not an entirely serious person, I actually do have some sense of humor.
Sometimes I do not feel like organising my thoughts, that’s when I’m mentally overstimulated. Sometimes I do not feel like sounding older,that’s when I am in touch with the “Tololy within”.
Sometimes I just want to talk and not care much about “cohesion and coherence”,and care less about making sense.
Sometimes I want to sound less British, more Jordanian, mostly universal.
Sometimes I like having people “feel” that I am not a professor but a simple girl who loves fancy words.
At such times I come into my play box and express myself. I can’t help but express myself,becasue I called the doctor and the doctor said : No more monkeys jumping on the bed.
Those are my Tilly Putty Thoughts for tonight.
All work and no play makes Tololy one miserable “young lady”. I have decided to play a bit with my “tilly putty” of thoughts. I am not sure why I will do that but there’s this urge within me to do something that I will possibly feel uneasy about later on. “Later on” is a catchy couple of words,don’t you think?
So instead of experimenting with toys or synthetic rubber, I will put forward a nutty entry. Perhaps you will be shocked, perhaps not. I do not really know,and I do not desire to learn much at this moment. “For with wisdom comes suffering”. I feel like Oedipus.
I have reasons to believe that some think I sound older. Some definitely think I look older. I’m not sure why that is,given the fact that I am physically petite but not undergrown. Maybe it’s the way I talk but what has that got to do with the way I look?
Gather around my dears, I have a story to tell, a story of age and sanity.
There was this gathering of people at a certain house located at 14 street, Royal Oak,Michigan and I was present. This lady whose name was Christine,I believe, was eating and,being seated next to me, she felt obliged to talk to me. I generally do not start conversations with complete strangers unless they look interesting. I do,however, respond to any friendly and/or hostile gestures by complete strangers. And since “strangers always have the best candy”, I imagined that socialising with Christine could be beneficial one way or the other.
Q: So how do you like Michigan?
A: It’s nice but I feel as if I’ve been here before. It’s like everything is so familiar,coz of the media..you know
Q: Ummm… yeah. So do you miss home?
A: Oh yes. I miss home so much and I miss everyone I know. I can’t wait to get home.
Q: Is that your daughter?
A: No, that’s my niece. Come here Jude, what do you have in that plate? Cake! Yummy, can I have some too?
Then came the ever-green question.
Q: So I guess you left your kids back in Jordan,right?
A: My what? My kids? Why does everyone think I’m older? I mean,do I really look that old? Oh my god! I don’t have any kids!
By this time Christine was blushing. I was hysterical and there was no stopping me.
Continuation of A: No,seriously now, what is it in me that makes people think I’m older? Do I look like I have kids to you? I am still a student, and I am single! I just turned 21. Kids! I am not even engaged or anything. Oh my god!
Christine did not see that coming, you could tell by the way her lips shivered as she searched for a way out of the pit she dug for herself. As I bombarded her with questions the poor small-talker kept trying to calm me. I eventually quit asking questions,realising that she really could not afford to supply me with any satisfactory answers.
I do not think she small-talks anymore. Strangers not only have the best candy, they also have the best insanity sometimes. I provide people with such valuable life lessons. Enough tilly putty thoughts for today.
