three unrelated beirut stories: public shaming, anticlimactic bowel blog, and shoulder pads

Yes! I've been waiting for my first public shaming! I wondered how the men folk would take to me with this giant tattoo all over my arm, not well apparently. The stares seem to be more frequent, from both sexes, the ladies don't seem to mind it as much though, hey hey.
I heard someone talking to me in arabic from behind, spun around on the street and saw no one on the sidewalk. then I noticed the guy who had made it his business to pull over to ask me, "shu haida?" which means, "what's that/this?" while he pointed at my arm, thizz face on swoll. He paused, did his little "tsk tsk" sound and drove off. I should've told him it was a picture of his mom. oh well.
Speaking of my mom, here's something she might not approve of (bad segway): I had a strange urge to be adventurous when we got in the apartment the night of the flight so I ordered sheep's brains from Bar Bar, the middle eastern fast food restaraunt all over beirut. I had to get our new roommate taylor to ask for it, but with his thick syrian accent the dude taking the order still barely understood him. the food came. It was bland. nothing to tell really. I threw a bunch of yogurt on it to give it some flavor.
other than the ride home from the camp the other day with the beast of a man playing his own cd in the car there's really nothing else to tell. He had a muscle shirt on that seemed to be holding down the hair coming out of his sleeves. He seriously had two afros on both shoulders, nice as hell, but I imagine when he wears nice shirts it looks like he has shoulder pads on, or maybe he wets the hair down, maybe uses straightening gel or something. who knows?