Alright folks, without further ado, here’s is Brother Sven’s version of what’s going on here…:p
whoa, ok, hold your horses for a sec here… Abez, is that my bio?? (off the record: remember guys, girls always exaggerate qualities to make Prince Charming look just a little better). I’m compelled to do some tafseering here…
Alias: I’ve had a lot of weird names, and ‘Brother Terminator’ is by FAR the nicest one yet. When I was a kid, they called me baba (no clue why), then they got creative and started calling me Mr. Bubbles (still no clue why either). Then they got bored of me and sent me to school so I could cause chaos there. In kindergarten I was that kid always stealing the little plastic cows from our class animal farm, so they came up with a few names for me there. By grade 3, I was the smelly Paki.. oops I mean… Nordic (sniff sniff, you smell like curry! errr… whale blubber). In grade 5 I made a few allies, and I was just me! (diplomacy WORKS!). Then in grade 6, I was promoted and became the infamous Fatso. c’mon, there’s always a fatso. Oye!!! motaaaayy! motaaay alooo! (translation= Hey fatty, fat potaaaaato!) What’sa class without a fatty?
Soon enuff, I took care of that. One summer of B-ball, roller blading and training, and I was back slick and chillin. (‘Whoa, whhoooose THAT new guy??’) From there on, I guess there wasn’t much development on the names front. Except one maybe, during high school, I was a little quiet, maybe even considered shy by some, so a few people noticed that and dubbed me ‘The mute’. Of course, then we all grew up and realized Santa Clause wasn’t for real and neither was the tooth fairy, so it was all kool in the end.
ok, moving along here..
Real name: Sven? Abez, you cudda given me a Muslim name at least, but Sven?? Now they’re never gonna believe this stuff. That name needs a Muslim-ish sound to it.. maybe Sevvaanul Abdullah, or how about Sev’Nur Rahmaan? We can even drop that name altogether and say it was a typo or something, but I like something like … Meer Bahadur Jaan Wala Khan?? You think it suits me? I know it doesn’t have an Icelandic touch to it.. but hey, don’t kid your’self, Pakis are *everywhere* and there ain’t nuttin wrong with a Paki Viking.
Status: Stop lying Abez. I conned you into marrying me, let’um know the truth. I started it, and you know it! But yes, I have 3 wives 28 children… oops , I meant, I’m engaged and I can’t wait till I get married to my one and only 🙂
Place of birth: umm… minor typo. Subzi mundi, Iceland.
Hair Color: Blond, greasy, occasionally dyed green and blue when I’m possessed by the Metallica heavy metal demon. I just can’t help it, I wake up and find tattoos and piercings all over… And sometimes when we have guests over, I’ll be sitting there all quiet, calm, very nicely conducting myself, and all of a sudden…it takes over! I leap into the air and do the guitar move, head banging, “born to be wild!” yeah! You think I’m bad, you should see my sister. She’s known as the ‘heavy metal hijabi’. Scary sight dude! Yeah man, there’s a breed of those still around.
Eye Color.. Lol! I was gonna say flaring red, but then you might think some psycho jinn has taken over me… either that or I’ve been smoking some weird stuff…well, ok ice blue. But there’s lots of surma (kohl, my momma just made a whole bunch) in there. (btw, my momma is the daughter of a Hakeem, A Nordic Hakeem of course!, so she makes those traditional remedies passed down from generations.)
Height and Weight: This is actually the truth. I know it seems a bit far fetched, but yeah, caveman Sven has big dimensions. When I was in my mommas tummy, they fed her turkeys day and night. After I popped out, she kept feeding me Nihari. Yeah, I was practically born with teeth, and I bit. One day they let me loose in the chicken pen in our yard, and man, it was Qiyamat for them chickens. Oh, and you don’t even wanna know what happened to my pet goat. Then on my 1st birthday, I was given a Danish cow as a gift. So you can see why I’m a giant. Giant training starts from an early age, and many animals are sacrificed in the noble cause. Yo man, who doesn’t want their very own giant?? Just admit it, you all want one.
Languages spoken: I don’t speak Pushto or Farsi. But you know what, I speak fluent Fay ki boli! Anyone who knows this language belongs to an elite group, who have gone beyond the need to converse in humanoid dialects. Mufuj’jafai fa’fai kifi bofol’lifi afa’tifi ha’fai!!! Beat that! (translation?= Abez hasn’t a clue!)
Hobbies: C’mon, that’s a bit too much flexing. You’re making it look like I’m flexing all the time, like some baysharam beech wala nanga bum! (translation= shameless naked beach bum) Nonetheless, it’s no secret that every guy flexes in the mirror, regularly, and sometimes even a few times a day. It’s a guy thing, we all do it. Each time we think our arms look a little bigger, or we’re just a little closer to that 6-pack. Maintaining an amazing physique it not easy you know. The secret to a healthy lifestyle lies in Nihari and Lahori parathas.
Education: Apart from my Doctorate in Veterinary Physics, my laser printer prints out quality diplomas, degrees, and certificates from a variety renowned Universities and colleges of the western world. My extensive knowledge and experience in the science of Pseudo Engineering has earned me Honorary degrees from institutions such as Yale, Harvard, and MIT.
Occupation: great, she tells them all the manly jobs and then end with a hand model? You know, Lifeguard, Fireman, Chief, Hunter, Muezzin… real brotherly stuff. Abez, my bulging hairy knuckles don’t make a pretty sight. And then people wonder why guys become sissies after marriage, well… you got sisters making hand models out of us…what do u expect?
Ok, so that’s me in a nutshell. Well, who am I? In case you haven’t seen my blog, it is the one with ….yikes, Iftar time! Gotta go.
