Examples of using "Dima–" in a sentence and their english translations:
"In one night," Dima added.
Dima is one badass dude.
"Dima?" the man that Dima called "Al-Sayib" asked. "I don't know any Dima. Sorry. I think you've got the wrong number."
"Thanks," Dima said as he dialed the number.
"Surely," Dima grinned. "You must be joking!"
"I really need some new clothes," thought Dima.
"Do you know the country code for Lebanon?" Dima asked.
"I need some money," Dima said, with a tone of embarrassment.
"99 kopeks," Dima stated proudly. "I need 99 kopeks."
Trying on the suit, Dima found it to be too big.
"International TV?" Dima asked. "What are you talking about, Al-Sayib?"
"To be honest," said Dima. "I really can't remember who they were..."
"Dima?!" Al-Sayib was so shocked that he dropped his Fanta on his computer, thereby ruining his noob hunt. "Dima?! Is that really you?!"
Reaching into his pocket, Dima pulled out a giant briefcase.
"I'm sorry," Dima apologized. "I just had the strangest feeling."
And just like that, Dima's childhood friend hung up, leaving Dima - as he was before - 99 kopeks short of his goal.
Hiding from the police, Dima spent the night in a dumpster.
"Walakum-us-Salam, Al-Sayib!" Dima replied. "What are you up to these days?"
"I'm in an Armani store buying a suit, of course" Dima replied.
"No," Dima replied. "To help me buy this Armani. I'm dirty, remember?"
Keeping the suit on, Dima walked out of the changing room and stated that he wanted to make the purchase.
"I mean... my life," Dima said. "Anyway, there's 3,000,000 BYR in this briefcase."
"It's Dima!" Dima exclaimed. "Is your caller ID not working or something?"
"Could it be...?" Dima wondered. "Did I finally get the right Al-Sayib?"
"Even worse!" Al-Sayib exclaimed. "They don't know what to do with you, Dima!"
"Oh, well..." thought Dima. "I suppose that I can't be picky at a time like this."
"It's fine," Dima laughed. "I'm still growing, after all. I'll grow into it."
By the time that he tried 966, Dima was beginning to give up hope.
Dima slept with 25 men in one night and then killed them.
"Sentences?" once more, the shopkeeper was confused by Dima's strange ramblings.
"No..." Dima sighed. "I think I called the wrong country. Let me try the other 960s."
"But three million is all I have," Dima said. "No more, no less."
"Just where are you, Dima?!" Al-Sayib asked, getting a towel to wipe the spilled Fanta.
Thankfully, there was an Armani store just outside the alley where Dima had slept.
"Don't worry," Dima attempted to put the woman at ease. "It's not mine."
"I... actually don't know that either," Dima admitted. "Sometimes, this story really doesn't make any sense."
"Do friends sleep with friends and then murder them?" Dima asked in return.
"Noobs," Al-Sayib stated. "If 25 people got killed by you, Dima, then they must have been noobs."
"Dima..." Al-Sayib said. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
"Hold on," Dima said, taking out his phone. "I know someone who could lend me some money."
"I see," Dima sighed. "Sorry for the confusion, then. Enjoy your Fanta, and have a good day."
"Dima..." Al-Sayib sighed. "How much is this phone call costing you? I bet you it's more than 99 kopeks, noob..."
"I'd look like a real James Bond in that," Dima said to himself, then entered the store.
"Well?" the impatient shopkeeper asked, once Dima had ended the call. "Is everything all set now?"
After listening to an Arabic song for ten seconds, Dima finally heard a familiar voice say, "As-Salamu Alaykum!"
"Well," said the shopkeeper, motioning for Dima to follow her to the cash register. "That'll be 3,000,000.99, then."
"What do you mean?" Dima asked, but burped, for if he remained silent, this sentence would be too simple.
"I feel like..." Dima started to say. "I feel like I haven't done anything for the last 150,000 sentences."
"Yes," Dima replied, brushing off a piece of half-eaten fish that had gotten stuck to his right sleeve. "I'd like to buy that one there."
"Well..." sighed Dima, then turned to the shopkeeper and cast her a murderous glance. "I guess I have no choice now..."
The next morning, Dima got out of the dumpster, but only to realize that all of his clothes now smelled like garbage.
"But that's ridiculous!" Dima protested. "Kopeks haven't been around in ages! And 0.99 isn't even a natural number!"
But Dima would never wear the glasses. Suddenly, his body went limp and he collapsed to the floor.
Worried, the shopkeeper ran over and kneeled beside Dima, who was breathing heavily - his forehead covered in sweat.
"Would you like to buy a suit?" the shopkeeper asked Dima, who brought the smells of the previous night with him as he walked through the door.
"I'm in a terrible hurry... for reasons I can't say," Dima replied to the woman. "Please, just let me try on that suit there."
"Huh?" Dima didn't understand. "But isn't this Al-Sayib? And aren't you drinking Fanta and telling noobs to shut up?"
"Noobs?" Dima asked, a slight hint of anger in his voice. "This isn't a video game, Al-Sayib! This is real life!"
"Dima," Al-Sayib said sternly. "You know you're like a brother from another mother to me, but... cheating an Arab is unforgivable. Goodbye!"
Dima slept with 25 men in one night and then killed them.
"Your face is all over the BBC, Dima!" Al-Sayib exclaimed. "They say you slept with 25 men and then killed them! How the heck did you do that?!"
"It was a big dumpster," Dima said. "And there was a lot of food, so... It wasn't exactly uncomfortable. But yes, smellier than a donkey's behind."
"But it's true!" Dima insisted. "They won't let me buy the suit unless I give them another 99 kopeks! Can't you wire me some money?"
"Oh, it's a lot more," Dima smiled. "But actually, this is a collect call. So you're the noob, 'cause you're paying."
"Walakum-us-Salam, Al-Sayib!" Dima replied, but raised the volume on his phone this time, so as to avoid making this a duplicate sentence. "What are you up to these days?"
As Season 2 started, Dima decided that he needed a new look, and - reaching into the pocket of his Armani - pulled out a pair of supercool shades.
As she fetched Dima the suit, the shopkeeper noticed smears of blood on his shirt, and couldn't help but stare in shock.
"And besides," Dima made sure to add, taking out his calculator and dividing 0.99 by 3,000,000, before multiplying by 100. "You do realize that you would only lose 0.0033%, right?"
"I can't say I much like that choice," Dima sighed. "To be honest, my head's been all blurry ever since I woke up in a dumpster this morning..."
Although Al-Sayib would never admit it, the real reason he hates noobs that much is that he got pwned by one while Dima watched and laughed his ass off.
Methodically, Dima tried dialing numbers from 962 to 965, but always ended up with the wrong Al-Sayib, though each liked Fanta and disliked noobs.
As he looked through the store window, Dima's eyes widened as they fell upon a gorgeous black suit, and then widened even more when he noticed the 3,000,000.99 BYR price tag.
"Yea..." Dima continued, talking mostly to himself. "It's as if the author of my story got into some stupid argument, retired to Fiji, and just left me here to rot."
After listening to an Arabic song for twenty seconds this time - for if he listened for ten this would be a duplicate sentence - Dima finally heard a familiar voice say, "As-Salamu Alaykum!"