Did some "training" thing for this upcoming job in Dubai. Have to use some particular piece of software to dial into somebody else's computer. It was supposed to take place at 7.00 in the morning my time. Mohammad (actual name) texts me at 6.30 to start this. Then a few minutes later says, "Can we delay this?" and suggests to start an hour from now. There was an emergency meeting called, apparently. He texts back two hours later.

That's the Mohammadans for you. They don't care much for infidels and enjoy wasting their time. The "training" took about 15 minutes, by the way.

Speaking of the Middle East, I'm back in Bahrain on Tinder. I thought I was shadow banned because I wasn't getting any matches in Scotland. No. I got 10 matches within an hour of "moving" to Bahrain. Let's see what we have:

19 matches. That includes 2 who I immediately unmatched with because I've matched with them in the past. They were real people, non-prostitutes so I'm thinking I need to start doing this in another area.

Trixie. Ladyboy prostitute. I guess s/he didn't read my profile. Next.

Mary. 22. "Pure Kenyan". "Character is better than money." If you have to mention that in your profile, you probably don't believe it. Looks alright, though. Seems a normal person too.

Bena. 30. Thai and oil massage. Guess she didn't read my profile.

Lovely. 33. Oh, I matched with her before too. There must not be many people using Tinder in Bahrain. Anyway, lovely she is not. And possibly a prositute.

Minny. 32. Blank profile. Heavily tattooed. Possible prostitute.

Maya. 22. "It is what it is" is her entire profile. Unknown ethnicity. I'll have to assume that this is a prostitute.

Kitty. 30. Didn't read my profile. Unattractive prostitute.

Noonanny. 22. Blank profile. I don't No overt prostitute pictures but probably a prostitute.

Pariya. 34. I'm noticing a pattern here.

Miw. 33. Clearly a prostitute.

Apple. Think I matched with "her" before. Could be a guy.

Siriporn. 26. "If not paid for sex just swipe left". I think that's prostitute talk.

Naruemol. No age. I thought this woman was real because she names a university but this is surely a prostitute.

Annie. I matched with her before too. I think it's a prostitute.

Pe. 26. Prostitute.

Thitichayan. 31. Probably real. Just one picture and a blank profile, though. Wearing a really conservative dress. Maybe a prostitute with poor marketing skills.

Kirstin. 31. I say not a prostitute. A fashion designer. However, a man. And not even one who can ever possibly even think of passing as a woman. This is big sexy John Wayne in a dress.

Finally, Bernadette, 34. "You can simply ask me...matched without a msg is ridiclous!". She's real. She's from the Philipines. She works in some technological institute. She sent me a message "and what exactly are u up to here on tinder? Nice matching up here though". Unattractive. Unmatched.

Still, two real matches in 12 hours. It's probably slim pickings in Bahrain.

In other news, my mouse scroll wheel stopped working. Makes you realise how amazing an invention this is. You're always scrolling shit.

So I took it apart. I've had this mouse for probably 10 years. It's a Logitech G9, widely considered the greatest gaming mouse ever produced. So I try to keep it running. I've had two replacement cords.

There's ten years worth of fungus growing the bottom of this mouse wheel thing. I was able to get the mouse wheel assembly thing off, as I've done a number of times in the past to do routine cleaning and replacing the cable, but in order to get at this fungus, you have to take the assembly off too. But I couldn't get the little screws out. They're on there pretty good and my little philips head screwdriver is broken and they're on there so tight that my little flathead screwdriver wouldn't do the job.

So I cut a little sliver of foil off from a Neurofen package and sent it down to try to dislodge some of this shit. I was able to get some of it but by no means all of it. I probably only got 10%.

That was enough, though. I'm back to scrolling. This problem happens sometimes. Now I know what the reason is. There's legit shit growing in there. One day, I'll have to buy a little philips head screwdriver and give this a good clean. I want this mouse to last another 10 years at least.

Apparently, you can buy full replacement mouse wheel assemby things from Alibaba or whatever it is. But there's no need. This one is just infested with shit. It can be cleaned.

This thing was really built to last (except for the cord). I used to have a pile of cheap mice that I'd buy and they'd turn to shit within a year. These were the old mice with the ball in them. But I even had some cheap "laser" or whatever mice. There'sa distinction between lazer and...something else so I don't think these were actually lazer mice.

I was quickly clicking a mouse, just in normal usage, and my idiot mother said, "You're going to break it."

I told the story before about my mother forcibly letting my friend borrow my copy of Quest for Glory 2, one of my favourite games of all time, shortly after I got it. Then he returns it broken. "It worked when I had it." It was years before I finally got the Quest for Glory Anthology, which had Quest for Glory 2 on it. By then, the game was ridiculously dated. I still played it and beat it several times, but imagine how much I would have enjoyed this in its heyday.

Why did she have such contempt for her only son? If I had a son and his fat friend wanted to borrow a game from him, and my son wasn't agreeable to that, I'd say, "Get out of my home, fatty. You're not welcome here any more." Well, that might be going too far. But I'd make it clear that if he doesn't want you to borrow the game, that's the end of the matter and to stop asking.

She really enjoyed giving my shit away. Or throwing it out. There's something really wrong with her. This is psychotic behaviour.

That kid who my sister babysat for like a sailor hat that I had. I got that hat in a play that I did. So my mother says, "Why don't you want to let him have the hat? He looks cute in it." I said, "Because it's mine and it reminds me of the play that I was in." This is the one time I can remember her not giving my stuff away. But he undoubtedly ended up with it. And his mother surely threw it out within a week.

I had to be forever vigilant with my stuff. I wouldn't want anyone to use them because they'd end up taking the shit home because my mother would allow it. Don't let anyone see how awesome your stuff is because your mother will let them take it.

We lived in the same house from about six years before I was born. My mother still lives there. So we didn't move a lot. There was no need to keep things light to make moving easier. We didn't move. We were settled there. We had space for my stuff. It was all confined in my room. Nothing was spilling out. There was no "toy room". The shit wasn't on the living room floor. It was all in my room.

I didn't have an exessive amount of things. She just enjoyed inflicting pain on me. I don't remember a single instance of her giving my sisters' stuff away. "You have 200 Barbies. Give some away." Nothing like that ever happened.

Then she sends me these fucking vaccuums and the like for Christmas. The shittiest gifts in the world. And now I'm moving a lot. I don't need more shit. It makes moving more difficult. "I'm sending this vaccuum back to Amazon and if you send me any more gifts, they're going straight the Salavation Army." That finally got through to her. No more shit gifts.

Hopefully, she's dead now. Although, my sisters or neice would probably tell me. Maybe they wouldn't.

Well, working tomorrow. So should take my weekly shower and shave.