Staying in Qatar? Try the KFC!!

As everyone knows, I am currently in the middle east, a small country (when I say country, I mean shit-factory) called Qatar. You may ask yourself, "Why , why would you go to such an obviously dangerous part of the world?" Well, it's because my company is paying me a veritable "shit-load" of money to be here and help the U.S. Military with expertly crafted war-planning software.

I am trying to save some of this "shit-load", and the military provides food on base for free, so I try to eat on base whenever possible, however, when I wake up and get ready for work, I am ravenous, and there is no dining facility open when I get to work. So, for the last 3 days I have stopped at KFC on the way into the base to get something to eat. I get there at the same time every night I have gone there, and there has been the same individual at the counter to take my order, I call him Habib. One thing about KFC in the middle east, there is no normal menu. There is only one of those "value" menu's. So when I say that the choices are limited, I mean it. I am sure that I could order "ala carte", but the logistics involved in getting that information to Habib causes me to get headaches.

Normally at KFC, I like to get a 3 piece meal with breasts only (mmmm breasts). I know I have to pay extra for the breasts, but in my mind, it is worth it (like I said, mmmm breasts). Anyways, there is no 3 piece "value" meal at this particular KFC, and Habib has the English vocabulary of an infant (its better than nothing, and way better than the fuck-bags in Saudi Arabia). Using my quick wits, I decide that it is going to be difficult to parlay what I want to this person, so I decide to go for the light chicken strips meal, which by the way, has no number, just a picture. Every other meal has a number, but the one I want is numberless, such is life for me in this middle east terror facility. The chicken strips meal is only 9 Qatar reals, about $2.50. Very cheap. I approach the counter hoping that Habib will understand me enough to not mistake light chicken strips for deep fried camel anus, which by the way, is something I am sure they do as a free service, for foreigners who do not speak the language.

Habib: Hello sir, takaruuf habiyyah salwa al waab?

Me (thinking that he asked me for my order): Yeah, I would like the light chicken strips meal.

Habib: Ah yes, my friend, of course, Dukham al umm bab arrayyan spicy or mild thankyouplease?

Me (slowly taking in what he said, thinking he might have said "deep fried camel something"): ummmm, hmmmm, ummm, oh, yeah, spicy

Habib: oh, very well sir, wakra al sailiyakhawr?

Me: uhhhhhh

Habib (talking louder and slower): WAKRA AL SAILIYA-KHAWR???

Me (louder and slower): Uhhhhhhhhhh....

Habib (even louder): Wakra al sailiyakhawr...pepsi?

Me (relieved): Oh, pepsi, yeah, diet pepsi

Habib: umm bab arrayyan here or to go?

Me: To go please...

Habib proceeded to gather my items and then presented then to me with great enthusiasm as if doing this for me meant that I now have to milk his goat (when I say "milk his goat" I mean actually milk his goat. "Milk his goat" is not a euphemism for anything you sick perverts). I paid him and checked my meal as I left. Whew, no camel anus. I am somewhat sure that it was chicken, it tasted like chicken, but then again, what doesn't taste like that?

Since this first time I went, it has gone much smoother. I really do not have to talk at all, cause he knows me. I just nod and point. I am apparently his best friend now. When I go in there, he shakes my hand and tells me I am his friend. I am making friends all over...unless he expects me to milk his goat...