Monday, November 28, 2005
What has happened to my world in such a short amount of time? All it took was some (sincere) decency, sweet words, and unselfish acts of kindness. Ah, the world is such a pretty place, isn't it?
Ok… enough Ferdinand stopping to smell the flowers….
I have to tell you about Thanksgiving. The Artist Formerly Known as Sheeshagirl had a Thanksgiving shin-dig (hootinany) at her house. She cooked 2 enormous turkeys, stuffing, sweet potatoes, string beans. I made my mom's famous root veggie puree, cranberry sauce, and baked apples. Most people brought deserts. There was very little alcohol involved which is totally untraditional, but kind of nice (no fist fights on the front lawn or drunken arguments).
There were about 25 people there – mostly new friends from Camp Arifjan or Doha. Naz came with his new bride, Z. Z is an innocent. I don't think she realizes much of what comes out of her mouth until much later. She talks and Naz smiles and sometimes makes strange facial expressions when she's not looking. Sometime after dinner, the conversation came around to matters of mahar (dowry). Z stated very innocently that she was the "cheapest in her family" – sending everybody into new heights of laughter. I don't believe it was what she meant to say. She's just so cute. One of the American guys said that if he had to pay a big mahar to his wife, they'd better put a pole in their bedroom. Z didn't catch that one either. Funny stuff.
I think The Man had a great time too. Everybody else went to different parties after the dinner. We went home because I was falling asleep. How is THAT possible?
Saturday, November 12, 2005
We started off on Gulf Air – primarily because they serve wine (we didn't get any). The plane was delayed. There were 2 obnoxious girls sitting behind us; one with a nose ring (I haven't seen too many Kuwaiti girls with them). They kept spraying dayn al oud throughout the entire flight and arguing with the flight attendants. I wanted to haul off and smack one.
When we got to Bahrain, they stopped my friend in customs because the customs dude didn't know how to process her passport – as she is divorced from her Kuwaiti husband, has children, and doesn't need a sponsor. We sat there for half an hour until Tweedle Dumb could figure it out.
We got out and our hotel transfer wasn't waiting. I was going to rent a car and I forgot my drivers license in Kuwait. It just got worse from there. The bartender at our hotel made every drink on the menu with orange juice and gin – regardless of what we ordered. The hotel was new and pretty, but the service sucked in a big, bad way.
From what we were told, it was the first time in history that the Bahraini government had decided to fine and close bars and nightclubs during Eid because of code violations (serving alcohol even once during Ramadan). Shutting down discos in Bahrain during Eid is like cancelling Christmas: It just isn't done. All the good ones were closed. My girlfriends couldn't believe it and thought that we must be wrong (we weren't). It just doesn't feel like the same Bahrain to me anymore. The whole environment felt different. So anyhoooo, we ended up at a cheap sleezy nightclub that reminded me more of a jkhoor. Ick. We actually left Bahrain a day early and came back to Kuwait to have fun. How pathetic is THAT?
There was a 2 hour delay on the way back thanks to Gulf Air. Luckily, there is a bar with good wine at their airport, so we had something to do. Romanian met a Qatari guy sitting close by and they exchanged numbers (he later called to say that he was "open-minded" and to ask, "How close are you and your girlfriend?" Yuk!) The departure was almost okay – until Gulf Air lost the luggage of about 1/2 of the passengers on the flight, including ours. Tres sucky.
Well, I am back here where things (Mashallah, Mashallah, Mashallah) are very happy at the moment. The weather is beautiful. Life is good. Viva Kuwait!
Monday, October 31, 2005
The other day, a gorgeous Kuwaiti guy in a hot sports car allowed me into traffic. I thought, ‘Wow. What a nice guy.’ So, I did my normal thing and waved ‘thank you’. He was handsome and seemed a little on the serious side and I couldn’t help looking in my rear-view mirror at him. Yummy. I sped off to Kuwait Friendly House to do some trans-actin', and thought nothing more about it until I get an e-mail from a fellow blogger saying that it was him (he knows my car). What a shocker that was. You can never be too nice to people because you never know who they are going to be (except for the buttface who continually cut me off in his brown 745i this morning and then slammed on his brakes. He can go to Hell.)
Another day, I was down in Hawalli (which really has not-too-much-to-do with the paragraph above) and a Kuwaiti guy in a 4x stopped to let me into the traffic circle. I waved ‘thank you’ and he waved back frantically with both hands. Now, dude could have been mimicking me (and most likely was; a blonde thing, perhaps?), but it sent me into a giggle fit and I thought it was really cute. A little queer-looking for a big man to do, but funny.
Hot Blogger Guy reminded me that most women in Kuwait don’t wave ‘thank you’ in traffic because they think they are going to be hit on by male motorists; which, I’ve got to agree, is generally true. If you wave (or sneeze, or adjust your mirror, or pick your nose), it is almost like an invitation for them to come follow you. But I figure – I don’t give a schmidt because I am nice and I am going to stay that way no matter where I am. I always wave ‘thank you’. Ladies, what are your thoughts?
I’m off to Bahrain this weekend with the Romanian for a weekend of alcohol, dancing, and men of little virtue (not that there isn't plenty of all that here at home). I can’t wait. I should have more to write about when I get back. I haven’t been to Bahrain in years, since most of my Bahraini gang split up, moved on, or got married. I still can't believe my 38 year old, crazy F-16 pilot friend married an 18 year old. Dude! The only one left is a very nice body-builder type who took too many steroids and had one too many plush toys in his apartment. Hopefully, he got rid of the toys and off of the roids. If not, I can always flirt with Saudis (always good for instant ego boosting - especially when they just stand there staring at you with their mouths open).
Eid mubarak, y’all.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Yesterday was gergian. Since I am neither Kuwaiti nor a child and could get away with going door-to-door singing (ok, in some neighborhoods that might actually be welcomed) and asking for sweets or money (again… in some neighborhoods….) – yesterday as a special treat I did the following: I dressed up like a ninja chick (tons of eye make-up) with my 2 girlfriends in a non-descript rental car, sporting a sign on the back window that said, "Bad Girl", and proceeded to Kout mall for coffee. Obviously, this was a stupid idea on several levels (wrong, wrong, wrong), but all 3 of us had:
1) nothing to do and were bored sh*&less,
2) were looking for a good belly laugh,
3) were in possession of a non-descript rental car, and
4) were scoping for guys.
We set out in full gear, including the proper scents (bkhoor and dayn al oud), hooker shoes, too much jewelry, etc.
We were immediately met with a delay in our plan: Some woman parked her car next to Romanian's with zero clearance; meaning it was parked up against her car without clearance for Romanian to get hers out without ripping the rear quarter panels off of both cars. I had to call my building harriss. He took one look at me and started laughing. Sheeshagirl told him that we were going to a funeral and that it wasn't funny (making me giggle even harder, but hey – you couldn't tell cause I was ninja-fied). The harriss called over a couple other guys standing there and they literally picked up the back of the other car and moved it out of the way. Very impressive.
So, we were on our way with the air conditioning on high. We got down to Kout and were only followed by 1 car. Kinda lame.
We got out and walked/shuffled into the mall. I had to pee (which is kind of difficult with all that stuff on). Then we went to have juice/coffee. We decided to sit outside to watch the dancing waters. They also had a very good oud player across the water. It was very relaxing and pretty, but damn hot and humid. It is also real hard to get a straw up one of those niqabs. I was sweating most of my eye makeup off. At Costa, we had several tables of admirers, but all of them jailbait (well, maybe not here, but way too young). We sat there for a while, getting some lame Bluetooth messages and then hit the road with "Don't Cha" by the Pussycat Girls blaring at full blast.
The height of the evening came when we saw some young boys whose car had broken down. We came to a screeching halt and stopped to ask them if they needed anything (in Arabic). They were so stunned that none of them spoke; just stared. We floored it and went home.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
I’ve been back here for 10 days. So far, my car has been in the shop 3 times. I’ve been trying to find a lease Trailblazer or Envoy, but they don’t have any in stock. If you know where I can get one, please let me know (email@example.com). It started giving me problems Wednesday night and back in the shop again today. BITCH!!!! Still F-ing me and taking all my money.
So after the dinner, I ‘scaped and headed with the Romanian down to a party in Fintas. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz BORING. I’m so sick of gaadat in Kuwait. “You have to come. It is going to be so much fun. There are a lot of nice looking guys…” Bullshit. There was 1 good looking guy (who wasn't 12 years old) and he was drunk and sitting with a ho (who later changed from her slutsuit into an actual belly dancing costume and wiggled all over the room). I can see that in my bathroom. Not interested. The only thing that truly fascinated me was one very wiggly little girl. She looked like a pixy or something – like Tinkerbell. I’ve never seen anybody dance like that for so long. She was all wiggly like in a music video; Mexican jumping beans in her butt or something. Fascinating. How could she do that for 3 hours? (I only stayed that long because Romanian and her sister believe that Ramadan is the end of the world and they have to drink/party as much as they can the week before or they will die.) I sat next to a rather rotund Egyptian dentist who wouldn’t stop staring and trying to get me more “wine” (1 part red grape vinegar, 4 parts water, ice). Puhleeeeeeze! My friend, GD, kept saying, “He’s a dentist. He’s a dentist.” Hel-loooooo – BFD!!!!! (Yeah Purgy baby – that one’s for you!) I mean – do I care if he’s a dentist? Romanian’s comment was, “I don’t need a dentist. I want a plastic surgeon.” Obee kaybee.
So den Thursday night – what the hell did I do? Oh yeah. I went with Romanian back to Sakura for sushi. I saw a guy who I used to work with and his wife. He actually moved their seats so they could sit directly in front of us at the tepanyaki table. It would have been ok if I had been close to the guy when I worked there or he was a friend (he's neither), but I just found it kind of weird that he would move his poor wife so he was sitting opposite my cleavage. His wife was a sweetheart. Very nice woman with an icky-breaststs-ogling husband. We went upstairs for coffee to “I Am Zee Man” (as I call it). We both got quite a few bluetooth messages – some of them pretty creative/funny. A table of mens next to us sent us some birthday cake (cake is always a good move in my books). Went home.
Now yesterday was fun. MuslimArtist threw a shindig at her auntie’s chalet (which is worthy of “Cribs”). Damn, it was a beautiful place. Minimalist furnishings and very elegant. By the way, MA, I got a look at the plates in the kitchen and they are so pretty; everything went together so well. The food was awesome. MA can cooks some vittles! Jumbo shrimp and Bobarino marinated some chicken breasts (breasts – go figure). We had some laughs and some food and then went swimming in the sea (not the ba-mungous indoor pool). MA picked up a whole bunch of sand dollars (MURDERER!), which I have never seen live in Kuwait. Romanian actually got on the jet ski with Salongirl and her hubby, T. She didn’t put down her cigarette or ask anyone to hold her Armani sunglasses – both were lost in the Big Jetski Spill. I kinda forgot that Romanian doesn’t know how to swim or I wouldn’t have been laughing my ass off (so much). Even Desertdawg was swimming in her florescent pink doggy life vest (she is so small that it is too much on her little heart to swim out in the water). MA’s aunt’s big-fat-dog, Laser, was also swimming effortlessly. It was the first time that I’ve ever seen Desertdawg actually even remotely try to be nice to another dog. I was shocked. She’s usually such a bitch (gets all snarly and snappy – don’t know where she gets that). Everything about the day was right: nice weather, great company, yummy food. No mens for me, but I am almost to the point where I am used to that now.
Can you believe it is October 1 already? Where is this year going and what tha fuuu have I accomplished???
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
I've seen 2 articles in the Arab Times over the past several days placed by the IVH. I am glad they brought it to the public's attention - so maybe something can be done about it in however a small way.
One of the 2 articles (and photos) on the first day was about "Murphy" - a medium sized white dog who was found (actually walked up to some people and seemed to ask for help) with no ears. Why didn't he have ears? Because they cut dogs ears off in preparation for dog fighting. Dog fighting is common in Kuwait and the authorities do nothing about it.
I use extreme caution whenever I have Desert Dawg outside in Kuwait because dogs are often stolen and can be used to "train" dogs that are fighting. They tape the bait-dog's muzzle and allow the training fight dog to attack the defenseless animal; often gnawing on it until it dies of its wounds. It is then thrown out to die.
The second story I saw (again with photo) was about Schultz - what appeared to be a close-to-purebred German Shephard dog. Schultz was found running alone in the desert - with his eyes glued shut. This one actually made me vomit. I actually screamed at my desk in my office.
I got no sleep last night because I relayed the story to a Kuwaiti friend who told me that gluing a dogs eyes shut and leaving it to die in the desert is some form of black magic ritual. I've known people who have practiced magic and this form of cruelty must be satanic worship because I've never heard of anything so evil. (Pagan/witchcraft 'Threefold Law' states that anything that you do will be returned to you three times stronger. harm or manipulate another person through black magic or any form of evil, you will pay for it by having the evil return to you threefold. By the same token, whenever you do something positive or good (such as healing or helping spell), it will result in threefold good karma instantly returned to you.)
By the way, both of these dogs are beautiful and IVH has them up for adoption. I am going to see how much it costs to have them flown to a rescue league in another country because they deserve better than being here.
(I deleted this paragraph. I couldn't handle it.)
Sometimes the only sollace I can gather from these acts is that God will punish the demons (I wouldn't consider them human) who commit these acts of cruelty and hatred. Mutate their children. Cause them intollerable pain through sickness and extreme misfortune. Curse their future generations.
Obviously, the only religion these monsters have is devil worship. If they are committing these acts against animals - they are likely to do it to humans.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
I vaguely recall a Kuwaiti woman sitting next to me talking non-stop from Paris to Kuwait while drinking both red wine and bloody marys until I just gave up and fell asleep while she was still in mid-sentence. (We are sisters-in-sin now. I love making new friends.)
Bunny, Bobarino, and fish girl showed up to greet me at the airport. My friend, AK, from customs also showed up out of nowhere, which I thought was pretty cool – right at the appropriate time. No sweating was necessary. At the airport – either arriving or departing – seems like the only time I get to see Bunny anymore. Probably because it is a nostalgic occurrence for him since we fell in love after a rather long time apart and had a heated homecoming (I digress). Naz, the new Mrs. Naz (that's a whole 'nother story) met me at my place with an enormous bouquet of flowers and cake (that is SO cool and I will have to remember to do that for someone sometime).
I looked around my apartment (covered in dust), and thought, "What tha fuuuuuuu?". Where is the wide screen? Where are the big dogs? Where tha fuuuu is the wine? What tha fuuuu is that smell? (Kuwait, actually.) What the hell is that noise (Kuwait construction).
Desert Dawg arrived about an hour later and I was shocked at her condition. She stays with a very nice Indian family who usually takes amazing care of her. I don't know what happened this time, but her fur was completely matted to the point where I actually took out my sharpest scissors and got to work even before I could make a grooming appointment for her. She couldn't move her neck because the snarls were so bad. I almost cried.
I couldn't sleep much that night. I called my family. I puttered around the apartment like a ghost. I watched the sun rise (which, if any of you REALLY know me – you know is a miracle because usually even a nuclear blast can't wake me up that early).
I made an appointment for Desert Dawg the next morning to get groomed at IVH. It is a long trip down there from Salmiya. Guess what wasn't working in my car? The frickin air conditioning! (I sold the discovery to an Indian friend for 300kd after the last time the head gasket blew – making that particular repair a third-time-you're-out offense). It was a long, hot drive down there. Desert Dawg got shorn like a sheep (and looked kindof like one too). She's much happier.
This past weekend was kind-of a blur for me. You can probably glean more details about if from reading MuslimArtist's blog. Wednesday night, we went to Sakura. I invited the girl from the plane (Planegirl). Brazillian and Farmboy were next door at Nokatha with Sheeshagirl and their Brazillian friends. Sheeshagirl and I have had a falling out of sorts (she LIES!!!) and so I hadn't seen her/talked to her in months of a long time. After a lot of sushi and laughing, we moved over to Nokatha (thank God – private rooms in both places to avoid the inevitable embarrassment) and had coffee and cake remains.
I don't know why I just don't rent a permanent room at the Crowne Plaza because I'm there all the time anyways.
Don't ask me what happened on Thursday because I don't remember anything. Total blank. Oh yeah – I slept all day. That's why.
Friday, we were all back at Sakura (thank God for the discount card), eating sushi buffet. Planegirl, Romaniangirl, and I stayed at the CP for 7 whole entire hours. Bobarino left at around 5. Planegirl, I discovered, is very princessy. She complained about everything. She sent food/drinks back. She also did one thing that I absolutely hate – squibbled over the bill. She wanted the waiter to explain every little thing. Oh – that is one of my worse fears. It is food. Pay the frickin bill and don't make us look cheap. I HATE that. I mustav gotten that from my father. Anyways, Planegirl is very nice, but the nit-picky side of her is irking me too soon in our friendship. When did I get so picky? No, screw that: why can't I have normal friends – is more like it.
Last night, some of us went out for coffee and it was very nice. My excuse for going out to eat so much is that Ramadan is coming and everybody will be busy then. Well, not the foreigners, but our Kuwaiti friends. Good excuse, though. I like it.
All the guys (you know who you are) who were calling me while I was in the US, sending me e-mails, telling me how much they missed me…. Have DISAPPEARED now that I'm back in Kuwait. What tha fuuuuuuuuuuuu?? What IS it about Kuwait? One guy has been practically begging to see me; pouring his soul out to me through e-mails – and NOW, dude is too busy to even talk to me on the phone. He is typical of the man Lulu Al-Bader describes in her article in this month's Bazaar, titled, "Please Impress Me". E-mail dude represents Lulu's Pigeonhole #4: The Workaholic Poser – a Walking Contradiction. I frickin LOVED her article. You go, girl!
Sunday, September 18, 2005
However, should I remain here, I would be just another blonde in a sea of blondes - nothing out of the ordinary. In the sandbox which has become my bubble, I am - as one gay Kuwaiti friend once said - "a novelty". I'm "different" (not just in the short-bus sense of the word): I know the culture. I am part of the society now. I understand (if not sometimes speak) Arabic. We are a family in Kuwait too. I also have much better odds of short meaningful/less relationships somehow due to my surreal Arab-dar. The homeys are just not attracted to me (and vice-versa).
Friends who are reading this: Be prepared and forewarned. I am a total emotional wreck for at least a week - probably more - when I return to Kuwait after being in the States. (Flowers help a lot.)
So... let's get past the psycho-babble.
What's new here? Everybody is still talking about New Orleans. You can't go anywhere or read anything without hearing about it - still. I haven't written since hurricane Katrina hit, but I spent several weeks crying every time I turned on the TV. Like 9/11, everyone here was sitting in front of a TV - unable to pull themselves away. I found myself screaming, "Help them! Where the F is our government????" So many stories. Talk about a polarization of a nation; once again the lines were drawn. My sister's republican neighbors said that they thought the media was "sensationalizing what's happening down there." How could it be sensationalized? Hel-loooooo! Some of them didn't want to send charity. How disgusting. I still can't believe what went on. Where the hell is this nation's compassion? Okay, maybe average citizens are compassionate, but the goverment is complacent. And yes, people, it was all about color and class. Horrible and shameful. It makes me physically sick.
Ray Nagin - keep on with your bad self! More diplomatic, my ass. He told it like it was.
Kudos to the Kuwaiti government for sending aid. Kudos to MTC and NBK for sending me the SMS I received here in the States, asking their customers to send help to the victims. Kudos to my father's friend, Courtney, for taking the time to fill an entire van full of supplies for animals and driving it to New Orleans to donate to shelters. Kudos to my sister who collected and shipped boxes to shelters to aid victims. Kudos to that unnamed lady who drove by the DC Armory (shelter for some of the evacuees) who saw that a woman didn't have shoes; she got out of her car in traffic, removed her shoes, gave them to the woman, and got back into her car barefoot and drove away.
Then, there was the September 11th anniversary. I watched a movie on Flight 93 and sobbed for 2 hours. Used an entire box of kleenex having my own personal boo-hoo party of one. I don't care if it is 50 years down the road and (if, God willing, I'm still around) I'm still seeing the footage on TV, I will still loose it the very same way.
I found it interesting that around September 14th, the Saudi government had an enormous color insert (about 8 pages) most likely trying to promote better relations between Saudi Arabia and the US. (Probably in poor taste), there was a 2-page ad for Binladen Construction included.
I bitch. (Noun or verb - you choose.)
I am teaching my 11 year old nefew to read tarot cards. He's totally into it and I love it. I think he's got a gift for it and he is already really good at it. Makes me so proud. He asked me if his mother and I used to "practice the dark arts." Wrong, wrong, wrong. There is nothing dark about it. It all depends on your perspective and how you work it.
I can't believe how much money I spent while I was here and what nonsensical crap I am schlepping back to Kuwait with me in 3 enormous suitcases. I am a shopping hog. What I see, I must posess. It is so bad. I know it is pshychological and correlates directly with feelings of insecurity. My brother in law gets a big kick from my shopping. I feel like I'm married to him - only in the sense that I get really guilty when he is in the house and I come back with bags full of loot. I usually try to dodge him or wait till his car isn't in the garage before taking things up to my room and disposing of the shopping bags. This, girls, is why I am single; and yet the guilt persists.
My dad said something to me the other day vaguely along the lines of "Why I'm Still a Spinster." I'm like, 'Dad, it's like this: I like to put my shit down and know that no one is going to move it. If I eat over the sink, so be it. If I come home late, no one complains. I don't hear complaining.' He responded with, "Oh yeah. I forgot all the things I hated about being with Elly (The Stepmother)." LOL. At least he doesn't believe that I'm a lesbian anymore.
Some random thoughts on things I will miss here: My family, bien sur. Getting advise from my sister from everything from what pants make my butt look big to what work choice I should make. Palling around with my mom and going to restaurants no one else wants to go to with me (like Ethiopian). Being here for Halloween and Autumn. Watching my nefew kick ass at hockey this season. Driving to Target with the top down (the car top, that is). Getting to the house by 5:00 to feed corn to the deer. French martinis. Eating dinner on the porch or next to the pool. My sister's cooking. Aflac, the white duck, who lives on the lake in front of my mother's house. Big dogs in the house who (at 120 lbs each) want to sit on my lap when they know they're not allowed on the sofa. Butterflies. Green everything. Gorgeous sunsets. New episodes of CSI and some of the new TV series. The way the clothes smell after they have been washed. Availability of good leather shoes and cosmetics.
What I won't miss here: Filling up the car for $85. (Gas just went down to around $2.80 a gallon from $3.17.)
Some years when I come here, I see all my friends. Some years, like this one, I don't get to it. I felt like I was in a daze this entire trip. I only wanted to be around my family - even if it meant just being in the same room with them and staring at them. As I told my sister, "It is kindof like when you first start dating someone you really, really like. The hours you spend with them are profoundly important. You count them. You covet them. You can't help yourself - even if you know that it might be suffocating the other person and you don't know why you are doing it." Okay - that's how I feel about being around my family for the past month. I haven't really wanted to do anything different. When I'm out doing stupid things like shopping, I feel like I need to be back at the house.
I really owe my friends here, big time. I have been so bad at maintaining my friendships with them, but... here is something that irks me: When I come back to the States, I am the one who has to run around and go to see my friends; they never come to my house to see me. So, I end up driving all over the place to get to them. I don't want to leave the bubble area. We stay in the bubble. We dine inside the bubble. I don't like to stray too far now from the bubble. :) Alas, my friendships have suffered.
There was a gorgeous moon out tonight. We drove by our old family house in DC. My father sold it years ago, but it is where I grew up and got into my best mischief in. It is where Shamlan came to sneak me out of the house in the middle of the night with his car parked down the street when I was a teenager. It was where my aunt would stay up watching Johnny Carson and smoking until late at night; until finally, she and her dachshound would trudge up the creaky staircase to bed. The house always smelled of southern fried foods and cigarettes. I miss those days. I have a lot of memories in that house. It looked so much smaller tonight.
I have approximately 2 more days here. I probably won't get any sleep. This is a weird, funky mood I'm in and I don't like it one bit.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
My older sister is here now from the foreign country of Texas. We 3 sisters are leaving to California the day after tomorrow. It will be the first time all 3 of us have ever gotten together to do something alone without other family members around. The other night, we were turned onto French martinis and now I'm hooked. Yummmmmmmmmmm. I'm still loyal to my longtime friend and companion, Mr. Jose Cuervo, yet I like this new friend a whole lot. There are different variations on how to make a French martini. The one I like is vanilla Absolute, Chambord, and pinapple juice.
I went to visit the building where Shamlan used to live above the Iwo Jima memorial. He sent me an amazing sign just as I was turning to leave and I felt like he was with me. There isn't a day that I don't wake up and say his name - usually in that place between asleep and awake. Where does all the time go? When you think that the best times are yet to come, sometimes you realize that at that very moment, it probably was the best time. I guess you dont' figure that out until you are older and start wondering: why the hell was I so stupid? :) Shamlan used to wear Hallston cologne way back in the day. I bought some at Target so I could remember what he smelled like. I just wear a little before I sleep and hope to catch a glimse of him in a dream.
Anyways, I am loving spending time with my family. I should be enjoying every single happy moment and yet I am anxious - especially at night - thinking about the time when I will leave to go back. I wish that I could fit into this world again, but I just don't know if I ever can. I feel like a fish out of water.
Our coffee boy at work sent me an e-mail the other day saying that he missed me. It must be pretty quiet around the office without me. One thing is for sure: You never forget the crazy people.
I've had some completely unexpected calls from friends in Kuwait that I hadn't heard from in a long time while I've been here. It is almost like they knew I wasn't there and wanted to call to pull me back into the fold. These particular people, I didn't tell that I was leaving. I've had 4 people call me out of the blue and tell me how important I am to them and how much they needed to talk to me when I got back about different things - mostly just for comfort talks.
One particular guy, a TV newscaster, has just not been that into me. He sends me SMSs, but rarely picks up the phone when I call him. "Very busy" as he says. 'Just not that into me' as most of my friends (MA) say. I haven't seen him in close to a year. At any rate, we talked on the phone and he will be in New York this week while I'm in California. He said he might get to Virginia when I get back. Interesting.
I've been looking at my old photo albums of friends I am still close to (for many, many moons). It is funny to see pictures of the guys with then-gorgeous full heads of hair; now bald! I've changed "a little" since those days as well.
I continue to meet incredibly nice people through this blog. This week, I talked to a lady who wrote to ask my advice and I hope we will be good friends. It never ceases to amaze me how you can touch other people's lives and the affect that you/they have.
Monday, August 15, 2005
Anyhoo (Purgatory), I arrived here only to find out that it is hotter than Hell (and Kuwait and/or one in the same depending on your perspective). The humidddddidity is around 90% and it is around 99 degrees here. My damn hair looks like Bozo the Clown and I can't breathe. Victoria's Secret doesn't make a bra capable of withstanding both extremes of heat and humidity, and neither does any known make-up brand I am aware of. My mother told me the morning after my arrival that I "look sick" and therefore she is scheduling all kinds of appointments for me. Jeez. Can I take a shower and have a nap first?
Anyhoo, the fam is all faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabulous, except for my daddy who looks very thin and sleeps all the time. He's 81, however, so I think he should be allowed do to that at his age. The big dogs and the little dog are all fine. My sister and her husband still look like Athletic Barbie and Ken and my nefew is growing like a weed.
It is twilight now and the deer should be coming up to the fence to gnaw on grass. My sister is cooking pizza on the grill next to the pool, so I gotta go.
All said and done, however - it is weird, but I miss Kuwait.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Do you think I should start packing? I am such a guy/girl: I wait until the absolute last minute before throwing all my stuff into a suitcase (or 2 or 3). Guess I should be thinking about this stuff. My mother, on the other hand, uses pretty tissue paper, to genteeely wrap her clothing so it won't be wrinkled. I have no time for that. All that would do for me would be a wadded up ball of tissue paper somewhere on the floor of my room. Nonsense.
I'm not looking forward to being crammed in a plane for all those hours with my back aching. I'm not such a great traveller anymore. I used to be. Now I just kinda dread it. I hope I don't snore. Travelling alone and snoring on the plane is the worst. At least when you are travelling with a friend or family member, you have someone to jab you in the ribs if, perhaps, lets say, the overhead bins start shaking from the noise level of your snoring.
I have already started missing Kuwait. How STOOOPID is dat? It is The Sickness. As soon as you leave Kuwait (with The Sickness), you miss it. I don't know why it is. And while I'm away - I'm thinking of all the people in Kuwait who I haven't hooked up with in a long time and thinking that I am really going to call them when I get back to see them. Why is it that while I'm IN Kuwait, I just don't pick up the phone and do it? I don' t know why that is.
Anyhoo, I am going to miss all my (non-annoying) friends. I am even starting to miss The Don who I have never even met. When he went on vacation, I missed him. I don't know why that is. I know Bunny misses me when I'm away - even though I hardly ever see him anymore.
I'll try to post from the States. I'm sure I can find something to yak about.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Like Bunny's chick. She's not a ninja, but wears the gloves and I feel sad when I see them in his car -- like Wednesday night on the way back from a nice Chinese dinner at the new Holiday Inn. The phone rings at precisely 10:30 and he has to rush home before his coach turns into a pumpkin. I miss that Bunny.
I only have a few more weeks before I go to the States on vacation, so the Presentable Package to the Family preparations have begun: getting my hair done, trying to lose weight, teeth whitening, manicure/pedicure and of course - tan. I will be immediately scrutinized once I walk through the international arrivals gate at Dulles. Am I wearing black as usual? Are my roots too dark? Do my teeth look as white as they did last time I was there? Is my butt any bigger? The questions I am 100% sure that are on my dad's mind throughout the entire year I am away. So, yesterday I had the roots done. I am back to Acceptable Blonde now... which seems acceptable to the male population as well...
Like last night. I went with my Slutty Friend (I love her, but you wouldn't believe how the girl dresses) to dinner. We were supposed to meet some new friends for coffee, but they literally ditched us. God, working in mysterious ways as usual, offered us a great advantage by having them stand us up: we had a great time. I don't mind being stood up every now and then because I figure that in some small way, the Universe will allow me payback - however small or in whatever form. Last night, it was in the form of an SMS, "Too bad you didn't show up. If we had liked you, we had planned to take you back to our place and have sex with you until you couldn't remember your name." That was good enough to make me feel placated.
Anyhooooooooooo (Purgatory!), we brought some "liquid courage" with us to the restaurant and proceeded to order finger food, mixers and ice all night which made the whole thing really fun. Ugly men always look better with liquid help. We had a blast. I can't remember so much positive male attention at one time. We felt like rock stars. One guy (sitting with a group of about 10 men) was staring me down in a major way, so I sent him a piece of cake. Black forest cake to be exact.
I haven't been invited out on anybody's boat in a looooooooooong time. I am losing my sea legs. I watched the sea today and ate breakfast at Johnny Rockets at Marina Crescent, looking at the empty slips at the marina. I thought about how much I miss the islands and then said to myself, 'Damn - all those people are crazy. It is 150 degrees outside. I'm going to take a nap." and I did. When I marry the Perfect Man, he will have the Perfect Yacht (with generator and good A/C) and we will spend our sunsets out on the water together. Until then, I am napping when it is 150 degrees outside because none of my no-good, mean friends have called to invite me. That's ok. I'm still having fun without them. As for the tan, I'm going to get sprayed at Strands several nights before I get on the plane - just so my family thinks that I live in a sunny country!
Monday, July 18, 2005
Anyhoo, my life of late has been happy. For some reason, I am receiving the male version of Eddie Murphy's skit on flying (slang word for lower female sexual organ). Maybe I'm having good hair days? Maybe my make-up is good? Maybe… just maybe… it is 150 degrees outside and the male population is just "friendly"??? Go figure. Peaks and valleys. Mens are just walking right up and giving me their business cards. I'm talking about MEN – not boys. Men with real jobs and good titles. Edu-ma-cated mens. I'm not talking about boys who write their number on a little yellow sticky paper and throw it at you. I am talking about MEN who take the time to walk across a room and introduce themselves like normal (for the States). What's going on?
Speaking of hot and bothered: I have got to buy a mobile air conditioner; you know – one of those kind on wheels that you can move around and cool a room. The AC maintenance people have been to my apartment 6 times already this year (I've got central). They are pissin me off! My apartment stays 75 degrees the entire summer. I have to sleep neked with a fan on me (Oh Mr. Invisible – where are you when I need you?).
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Of course, I am generalizing, but unfortunately, it happens a lot.
It is happening now at a very large logistics company with lots of Americans on staff. The homeys are asked to leave and quietly slip away because they are too worried about rocking the boat and potentially getting themselves into trouble.
My advice to my dear friend - toughen up and always have a Plan B. You can't take it personally (although it is, you have to pretend for a while that it isn't). You have got to network in Kuwait. You have got to know what your options are should something happen to you suddenly. Feel out the market. Find places that you would like to go to work if something happens to your current job. Determine which companies are working on the interesting/profitable projects in your field. Talk to people there. Mingle. Network. Cover your ass.
Know your rights.
All of a sudden, a whole lot of companies are "extending" the 100 day employee probation period – thinking that, should they fire the employee at say 130 days, the employee won't know the difference. By Kuwait Labor Law, a company can ONLY give an employee a 100 day probation period. No more. After 100 days, they are guaranteed rights (like not being terminated a the drop of a dime).
Do you know what happens to your credit cards if you are a Westerner here and lose your job? (Credit cards which you have obtained from the bank where your salary is being deposited into and debited directly from your account each month.) If your salary isn't transferred by EFT to the bank on the usual transfer date, whatever is in your account is immediately taken to cover your credit card (since they are all "secured" cards here). Then, your credit card is cancelled until your new employer provides you with a salary certificate and the first electronic funds transfer transaction takes place. In other words, you will have no money to get back to where ever you came from (unless you have your money in another account or overseas).
Do you know what happens if you are fired and a company doesn't feel like paying you your settlement? You have to take them to court. It may take years to actually receive any money. If you don't know of any good lawyers in Kuwait, you should find out. Establish a relationship with a lawyer just incase. Go have coffee with a lawyer and make friends. Send him/her a card on Eid or special occasions. Make them remember you should anything ever happen.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
I haven't been doing anything – literally. I am wearing a valley into my sofa where my ass goes every day after work. Desert Dawg has given up. All hope has been lost.
It is hot and dusty and why should I go anywhere or do anything? Spend money? Been there, done that. Eat? Been there, done that. Can't walk the dog because of the heat. I can't chase around after men because there are too many out of the country. Prime hunting season won't begin again until late September. This is just lame.
I am pathetic and I have no life, so of course – I like to go home, order sushi on wheels, and boo hoo in front of the TV to Oprah. The other day, they had an episode about Luther Vandross. I grew up listening to Luther. He was like a distant cousin (only black and way taller than us). I loved that man. I went through almost an entire box of Kleenex on that episode of Oprah. "Don't you remember you told me you loved me ba-by…. You said you'd be coming back this way again baby…." Sniffle, whimper.
Last night, I lost Oprah. I was watching an episode about how an X-CIA guy who specialized in disguises has started making prosthetic body parts for people who had been maimed in some way and couldn't go out into public. I was just at the part with the guy with the screw in his nose (big gigantic screw that is quite apparent), explaining that he lost it in a boating accident when BAM! … "Searching programs. Please wait a while." Kept popping up on the screen. Damn that Showtime. THEN… I did what I'm supposed to – I put the settings back to factory defaults. Holy shyt!!!! I lost Oprah on MBC4!
Many frantic calls to Bunny followed. He listens to my complaining. I listen to his geek talk. Do either of us really pay attention to the other? Hmmmmm….
So, at 10:00, I called Showtime in Kuwait. Previously, they never picked up the phone past about 7:00 pm. Low and behold – a young Kuwaiti guy answered and I blurted out, "Help meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I've lost Oprah and I can't find her again!" Thankfully to God, he actually spoke perfect English and found me quite amusing. His response, "How did you lose Oprah? She's a big girl…" He ran me through the settings until I was reunited with the MBC channels (although too late to find out what happened to the nose-guy). Was anybody else watching? What happened to nose-guy?
I then ate some Oreo chocolate pudding, got some heart palpitations from however much fat it was, and went to sleep. Bo-ring!
Monday, July 04, 2005
To see a brick in your dream, represents your individual ideas and thoughts. Experience and/or heartbreak may have hardened you. To dream that you are building a brick wall, signifies a wall that you are putting up to protect yourself against hurt. It may also indicate that you may be hard on the outside but still sensitive on the inside. So... Therefore... Thereby... digging up bricks from the sand represents my burred emotions that have been hardened. I took them out of the ground, brushed them off, laid them on the ground, and they crumbled. Am I s'posed to be soft now? Aint gonna happen. As Bunny says, "It is probably about sex." God, I love that man. He can really see into the heart of matters.
Forget Paris! is doing some business with Bobarino. He is trying to get to me through Bobarino but as B says, "Ma name's Bennet and I aint in it." Paris is so frickin romantially inept. Send roses, dumbass - you're never gonna git to me through a contract. What tha Fu is wrong with these men?
Anyhoo, so I went home, polished off that bottle of Ruffino Chianti I had and made a big bowl of pasta and seafood (seafood zuppa like we used to get in Rhode Island). (Which reminds me that I really really have to e-mail my friend, Cyndy, and say hi.) My mom called me and told me about my poor sister's really really bad weekend and I felt a little better about my boring, melancholy one.
My Virginia sister was trying to leave town for a few days at her beach palace (Barbie's Beach House) when my older sister just popped in from Texas with her daughter by surprise for my dad's birthday. Unfortunately, since VA Sister was on her way out of town, she had friends who wanted to stay at her house and utilize the Barbie Pool at In-Town-Palace, so the palace was already booked in advance for that weekend (my dad's place is too small for guests). She puts my Texan sister into a hotel with her daughter. The next morning, Virginia sister was going to head to the beach when her son came down with (as she refers to it) Hoof and Mouth Disease (some kinda funky rash all over) and they had to go to an emergency room. Apparently it was an allergy to aloe vera (go figure) and he had to stay out of the sun for 2 days (a 10 year old at the BEACH for the weekend). Meanwhile, their friends who were supposed to meet them at the beach called to say that they would be late because the husband (of husband-wife-and-2-kids that were visiting) had an appendectomy and would be late ("not to worry, just a small incision"). I am dying to hear how this all turns out.
Meanwhile, I am living the single, quiet life drinkin my Chianti and eating pasta. HA.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
FH&FOMC – After this weekend…. I think he must be gay. Should I say more? He is a nice guy and I am dying to elaborate, but I guess some secrecy should be maintained once in a while (unless the guy is a total butthead which FH&FOMC is not).
Forget Paris! Nice guy. Nice potential. Nice package. He keeps "getting busy" and missing our dates. Funny, though – he always manages to keep the business meetings I arrange for him. He calls me to make dates and , "… oh… by the way… that project…" I told him about a gazillion times that if he wanted to see me romantically, he should keep our business life separate. So, HE decided that Thursday would be our official "date night" since we are both so busy during the week and he has to visit his son on Wednesday nights. Fine. However, Thursday night when we were supposed to go to dinner at 8, he calls me at 8:30 and said that he was on his way to a meeting ("You're not mad, are you?). At 11 he called (I didn't answer). (Translation: booty call.) You don't call a woman at 11:00 at night and expect anything but a booty call. I ain't havin it. Who tha fu has a meeting at 8:30 on a Thursday night. (Translation: I'm taking someone else out to dinner, but I'll stop by your house for a quicky later.) Now men – a word of advice: If you want a booty call, tell it like it is. At least be honest about it. Most women prefer the honesty and you might actually GET SOME by choosing the righteous path.
Mutaa guy: Needless to say, I didn't get the ring and he is still trying to figure out what to do. Puh-leeeeeze! We did have a nice dinner together, though and I enjoy being in his company. I just thought he didn't need the training and APPARENTLY I was mistaken. He's sincere and makes me laugh and with a little work, maybe I can get his act together.
After this weekend, I am one step closer to becoming a lesbian. I swear, if any country can work the impossible – it'll be this one.
Know what I do when I get really bored? Get onto M-chat. Now that is just ugly-fun. You can find all kindsa mental patients on M-chat and it is fun playing with them. Most are married (waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa… my wife doesn't understand me) and looking for something to do with their hands (SMS-ing, that is). The best time to M-chat is on a Thursday night when the whole country goes apeshit via boredom. You can download the M-chat software from MTC Vodaphone or send an SMS to 858 of "go" and following the prompts. Go forth with your bad self.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
I dreamt I was digging up bricks in the sand last night. What does that mean? Is it a Kharafi nightmare?
I haven't seen much of Mr. Paris lately, although I am liking him. He's saying the right stuff and it is genuine. My ears are Highly Sensitive Bullshit Detectors and the gauge has been detecting only trace levels.
Ironically, Future Husband and Father of My Children has been showing interest of late (aka "sniffin around"). What is with these guys and how do they automatically KNOW when other men are in the picture? Do they have jealousy radar or what? Why can't they just stretch out the luuuuuve? Why is it peaks and valleys? Am I the only female experiencing this phenomenon?
And then there is yet another man in the picture – totally handsome, yummy, funny, intelligent, etc. (a bowling buddy) – however, he is married and wants me to be Mutaa girl. I told him (in complete seriousness) that I would require a diamond (as in NOT ZIRCON) engagement ring as mahar. He laughed. I told him my ring size. Go forth, young man, to yonder jeweler! Yo – if I'm going to respect his wishes/religion, then damn if he's not gonna have to respect mine. Bada BING.
I think Mr. Paris is the best option. Of course, in 2 weeks, they will have all disappeared again and I will be in another valley because they can't figure out how to properly manage time.
And to make matters really pathetic – I haven't actually had the time to see any of these guys. Desert Dawg is even being neglected. Last night, she jumped into the bathtub; not a hint, but a demand.
What happened to my FUN life? What happened to happy hours and going to get massages and pedicures and hair treatments? What happened to shopping at gourmet shops and sipping wine? What happened to pretty dresses and dancing? Damn. . . this does suck!
Sunday, June 26, 2005
This could be a good thing. Maybe I will become a regular. Maybe Sheikh Sabah and I will become buds and discuss various happenings around the country. Maybe I can give him my frank oppinion of things. Maybe.... I'll just get my ass kicked out of Kuwait. Ok, but now that I know someone will see something I've rambled about, my world has a different meaning.
Trucks in the free trade zone can't move between 6:30 and 9:30 am and 12:30 and 3:30 pm. At 9 am, they start rolling - causing everyone who is trying to get into the FTZ at that time a major butt pain. At 5:00 - when you would think that they wouldn't allow trucks on the road - there they is! Since the free trade zone is supposed to be international, most of us don't go home at 1:00 like the "normal" Kuwaiti population. We have to wait until international close o'business at 5. It sucks and not in a good way.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
The downside was that I (and several other people) got sick from the dinner. The food was really bad. I should just learn to bring sushi with me in a cooler or something. I don't want to eat anything else anymore.
Ok - except for the little French cafe my new interest (Mr. Paris) took me to last Wednesday. It is at the rear of Fanar under the area where the cinemas are. They have AMAZING steak (that's all they serve). Go there - it's yummy.
Mr. Paris is Mr. Paris because he used to own a hotel - guess where - that's right: Paris. He's Kuwaiti. Also went to school in the US. I met the traditional way: online. Thought he would probably turn out stupid or fugly, but so far, has been rockin my world (to an extent - I don't rock so easily). I have received no flowers as of yet and his attentiveness level needs to be kicked up a few notches (they all need proper training), but he's intelligent; funny; handsome; has all his hair and teeth; and divorced (don't worry - I'm checking out that last part). I'm too damn cynical. I don't take anything at face value anymore. How can you?
I've had a crappy couple of weeks. Have you noticed that odd numbered years SUCK? I always have much more fun during even-numbered years.
Today is father's day. What the hell am I doing here away from my family and it is 120 degrees and dust is now part of my skintone and my job doesn't make me happy and I haven't gotten flowers in a long time?
Oh! Sorry! Brainfart. I'm back.
My sister is at her beach house this weekend in Maryland. No doubt drinking chardonay and eating crabs and going out on their boat, etc. etc. (August, baybeeeeeeeeeee!)
I get to walk over 4' dunes from where my car is parked to my front entranceway (construction). Does that count? When will KHARA FI end the madness?????? I woke up at 5:15 am yesterday to the sound of jackhammers outside my window. I swear to God that I would have thrown something at them, but I would have had to get out of bed to do it (I'm thinkin a potato gun and some rotten tomatos).
Have you been to the scientific center and seen the size of the acquarium? THAT is how much tequilla I am going to drink when I get back to the States in August! Sha-zayam!
Friday, June 03, 2005
Then, Blinddateman called and asked me to dinner the following Thursday and I should decide on a restaurant. So far, so good.
He called back the next day and said, "You don't mind if I bring my friend, do you? He is dying to see what you look like." FUMBLE!!!!
I told him to have a great time on his romantic date with his friend.
What makes people so stupid?
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Let's all drive to Villa Mucha ... no wait...let's all have our drivers take us to Villa Mucha! Let's have the drivers park in rows, 2 to 3 cars across - and then wait in the heat for us. Everybody who's "anybody" is going to be there! And since all the girls will be there, all the men should go to check them out; frontin' that they have more than 2kd in their pockets at the time.
Honestly, I long to have a driver and I don't think I could afford even a pair of panties at Villa Mucha. I am too insecure to go there anyhoo: Maybe some too-cute little princess will strike up a conversation with her too-cute princess friends about the size and circumferance/orbit of my butt and I would spend the next several days in a bad mood. Further, there are only 2 times when I live in fear of my dearly-beloved Kuwaiti sisters: 1) buffet lines at weddings, and 2) sales. I have learned, in either case, to get the hell out of the way and quickly.
UFO's (Unexplained Freaky Occurrances) at the Free Trade Zone! Ok, let's just call it a "coincidence" that the 3' deep pot holes along the exit road (and many others directly around Villa Moda) have been filled this week and the pavement resurfaced; even though cars have literally been dropping into them for the past year. Let's call it "ironic" that all of a sudden, during VM sale days, Ports Authority policemen have been directing traffic; even though they are nowhere in sight the remaining 363 days of the year when fender-benders take place almost on a daily basis. Villa Moda is having a SALE!
And now that I am on a roll...More UFO's:
The FTZ is a penninsula and over the past few years (as anticipated) is overflowing with new companies and lots of employees. You would think that SOMEONE in some governmental planning capacity might have thought of this stuff, right?
There is only one road into and out of the Free Tee Zee. WHY?
At 60 and 80 (I'm a typical American - the kind that goes by road numbers and not names; 60 is Ghazalli, but I haven't figured out what 80 is), the exit out of the Free Trade Zone (also referred to as "the Free Tee Zee") heading towards Kuwait City has been cut off to traffic for years. Now that exit to 80 heading both directions is under construction. WHY?
Trucks are restricted from using the road during certain hours, but at PEAK hours (like 5:00) they ARE allowed on the road, causing back-ups that can leave people stuck in their cars for anywhere from 30 minutes to over an hour. WHY?
At 12:00 (lunchtime - duuh), the traffic is so bad that it takes you about 45 minutes to get out of the FTZ. There are also only 2 restaurants in the FTZ. You can only eat so many Barnie's sandwiches and salads and Movenprick's restaurants don't open for "lunch" until 12:30 and the service sucks. Might as well stay in the office and get delivery from 6alabat.com (which is really good, by the way).
Further, since there is a 3' deep pothole in one lane (maybe that one is too far away from Villa Mucha to be filled?), all the trucks, cars, busses, FRICKIN MORONS have to squeeze into 1 lane. Bobarino takes great joy in driving his rental Yukon out of the FTZ - pushing anybody who tries to squeeze into his lane without a Proper Invitation back into their rightful place: behind him. "Go ahead - HIT my bigass rental truck!"
Here is the real question: What has anyone got to rush TO at 5:30 pm? Happy hour at T.G.I.Friday's? I think not.
I have scoped it out: There just are NOT any places I could illegally 4-wheel-drive my Discovery over to navigate around the traffic. Alas, it is futile.
I thought about ferry service - maybe from Ras Salmiya. The problem with this scenario is the time it takes to load and off-load. I just heard that Kuwait is planning a metro system. That should be interesting. Dunno if it will go to the FTZ, but by then - maybe they would have figured out the traffic problem.
I have no life. I am a pathetic spinster girl. That is why everything annoys me. That is why I have the time to sit down and complain about everything that annoys me. :D
Sunday, May 22, 2005
This weekend, I thought I would bring my 2 groups of buddies together to see what would happen. Sometimes it is just fun to stir up the shyt.
So, I brought together the crazy bowling group, consisting of 2 Lebanese sisters (who I can’t really figure out because they just STARE at me all the time – oh, one is the Public Singer also), my friend, Moh, and his friends Habib and Hash. Mohammed totally dissed me – didn’t even bother to call before blowing me off. Didn’t even SMS. Hash brought a very funny friend (with disturbingly small hands) that I hope we will see more of (the guy, not the hands).
From the other gang was SheeshaGirl and her Moh, MuslimArtist and the Greek, Naz, Bobarino and FishGirl. I sat in the middle incase any really bad fights broke out.
It was fun to begin with because we went to my favorite restaurant in the whole world, Sakura, and sat in one of their party rooms where you have to sit in Weird Chairs with No Legs and put your legs in a hole: It was buffet day (Fridays between 12-3, all you can eat sushi for 8.900), so seeing all your friends suffer to get up and down from that weird table was truly amusing in itself.
Low and behold, everyone got along. I particularly liked the new guy they brought along (with the disturbingly small hands). Very funny and kept me motivated to pick on people – like Naz, who will kill me one day with an aikido move if I don’t leave him alone (‘waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa’ – as I move my hands through the air like a ninja warrior). The only person throwing anything was me – at opportune moments when I could throw a napkin at either SheeshaGirl or Naz.
The 2 Lebanese chicks were staring down SheeshaGirl and/or Moh (we later discovered that they knew Moh from his former party days). Public Singer Girl leaned over about 5 times to ask me where the men (and only the men) are from, and their stories. What am I – the National Enquirer?
At a lull in the conversation, Public Singer Girl broke into a very loud rendition of something [as one member of our group (you know who you are!) said, “Who the fu.. does she think she is – Fairuz?”]. I couldn’t get my legs out of the hole in the ground or out of the Funky Chair With No Legs fast enough to perpetrate a call or run from embarrassment to the bathroom. No, I had to stick it out and watch MuslimArtist’s and SheeshaGirls’ faces as the song wore on. Both had what appeared to be Kermit The Frog faces on (you know, big eyes popping out and their lips disappeared into a funny line). I was laughing and crossing my eyes at them. Maybe she smokes crack. I don’t know. Maybe it is a pathetic attempt to gain attention (I would imagine MALE attention). Alls I can say is THANK GOD WE WERE IN A PRIVATE ROOM because as it was, I happened to know 2 of the cute guys outside at one of the tables (they are both jerks) and that would have really been embarrassing. Kids: Don’t do drugs!
During the middle of the meal, my friend Moh called to apologize, but I was relatively pissed off (I hate being publicly dissed – ok, I hate being dissed at all, but much worse in front of a group of friends), so I handed the phone to one of his buddies. (Get this – he was later mad at ME for being mad at him – AS IF, DUDE!)
As it was, the Brazillian and her monster husband were supposed to show up – and didn’t. I’m tired of those 2 letting me down; you can only extend so many invitations before you give up. BAM!
So, anyhoo, we had some coffee and everyone parted ways, promising to get together again soon.
I was supposed to get together that night with someone (I won’t mention who because he has let me down so many times before that I have now shocked myself for allowing him to get away with it), but he dissed me too. DAMN HIM! He made me mad at myself for believing him again.
It was one of those weekends.
The good thing was that I sent my sister her birthday presents ON TIME for once and got them off in a FedEx package. I hope she likes all the really cool stuff I have been saving for her (are you reading this, Booberry?). I try hard to get things in the mail in time, but I usually don’t get to it, even though my intentions and my plans are always good.
The following excerpt from my life is dedicated to my friend, Kuwaiti Chopper Dude:
I was with Bobarino the other night, going to the Sultan Center (which is now TOTALLY on my shyt list). Bobarino was driving his Urban Assault Vehicle (built for a family of 16). He stopped to let a guy in a Prelude (which is a CHICK CAR anyways) into one of the 2 parking spaces that was opening up in front of us. The 2 cars that were leaving were parked next to each other, so there was plenty of room for Chick Car Dude to leave us a space. What does he do? He parks sideways between the 2 spaces. Ok, I kind of knew (I guess) that the window was open when I blurted out, “F-ing Moron!”. (I know – not too “lady-like” eh?) Soooo, we proceed into the Sultan Center and guess what? Chick Car Dude comes in and accosts me in front of people at the produce counters, asking, “Do I look like an F-ing moron to you?” - in a very loud voice. I demurely said, ‘Why yes, actually you do,’ with a slight smile. So, he was starting to get up in my face and I was looking for my partner in crime, Bobarino (who is equally as pissed off at the world as I am right now). Chick Car Dude sees me look around and immediately launches himself at Bobarino. Bobarino asks him politely 3 times to back away, before removing his glasses and telling the guy that he will beat the crap out of him if he doesn’t leave (which sent the produce guy into a giggle fit, “You are American, sir? That man wanted to fight you, but was afraid when he saw you would fight him.”). People were moving out of the area when they saw what was taking place. Meanwhile, I was trying to explain to the VERY stupid Sultan Center Door Greeters that they needed to call security. They just stood there looking at me (no, I am NOT asking you for your phone number!).
Ok, this was all my fault. I admit it. I apologize for it, but hey…. He WAS a f-ing moron. I couldn’t help it.
Which brings me to another reason why I am not very fond of the Sultan Center at present: Last week, I walked into TSC with my friend, SheeshaGirl. She walked in front of me. As I was walking through the door, a TSC Greeter Dude stepped in front of me, all smiles and flirty-like and says, “Don’t buy any chocolate. You’re too fat.” Because of the expression on his face – I really don’t think he meant anything bad by it, but when you are going to a store with the sole purpose of purchasing food items, it is kind of a major appetite depressant. I told SheeshaGirl and all of a sudden, it was as if I had a Jewish God-mother: “Oh my GAWD! He did NOT say that to you! Eshtaaaaaaaawaaaaa? Ayeshey! La! La! La! Ayeshey!” We walked up to the customer service counter and I asked to speak to the very-nice manager on duty who apologized profusely to me and had a big bag of chocolate waiting for me at the check-out line. Ok, I might have a leetle baby fat, but no way am I worthy of that kind of comment. What Greeter Dude SHOULD have said was, “Don’t buy any chocolate – you’re too sweet,” but alas, he too was a F-ing moron.
SheeshaGirl called her mom on speed dial and they were ready to have the entire SheeshaGirl tribe at Sultan Center to avenge me, but it really wasn’t necessary (although really, very cute). Following the call to SheeshaGirl Mom, she called her boyfriend, Mohammed (also on speed dial), who only laughed and told her that it was Greeter Dude’s F-ed up way of trying to pick me up. That is just the lamest thing I’ve heard of in my whole life. Why not, “Hey girl – you smell bad. I know you want me, baby.”
So yes, Kuwait, I AM in desperate need of a vacation. I’m either on the verge of tears all the time, or I want to go postal.
And now.... More on Chick Cars
Iin the Desert Girl World, real men don’t drive the following cars:
- Cabriolets: they scream, “girlie man”
- BMW 318i: watch re-runs of 90210. Girl car. I saw a very tuff friend of mine driving one of these recently and it has completely ruined my image of him.
- Preludes: “bella dude”.
There are probably more, but I can’t think of them right now. AND, if you are a man and you drive any of the aforementioned vehicles, I sincerely hope that you do not wear pastels or capri pants. (shivers down my spine)
Is that enough for today? I think so.
Happy Birthday, baby sister. You are the brightest star in my universe. Your kindness and compassion for so many people and the way your touch our lives is a true blessing. You are always with me, even when we are apart.
May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face.
And rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
I can remember when the 1st go-around in parliament was voted down. One of my former colleagues at work, a young Kuwaiti guy, said, “I’m glad they can’t vote. What will they want next – to be in the military?” I looked him in the eye and said, “I knew some of the women that went to fight to protect Kuwait during the occupation. Where were you?” He turned bright red and walked away. I haven’t heard from him in a loooooooooooong time, so I sent him a congratulatory SMS. Tee hee.
It is so amazing to be here during these times. I wonder how the laws will change: divorce laws, women’s rights, social laws. Very cool times are ahead.
“…and now, for something completely different…”
A women’s rights issue of another kind; MY right to tranquility and “normal” friends. SheeshaGirl is now on my last nerve. For several reasons. (PMS again.) First, let’s start with the poor-pathetic-spinster-friend-pity, “Ooooh, maskeena. You’ll find somebody. You just have to go through some frogs first just like I did before I met Mohammed and look how wonderful he is…” Let me bitch about this for a moment, ‘kay? The reason why she had to go through “frogs” is because that’s all she dated. LOSER-FROGS. And, to her, they were all “woooooooooooonderful”. “Isn’t flan just woooooooooooonderful? I mean, he gets drunk, almost wrecks my car, and then wants to have sex with me, but won’t kiss me on the lips because that’s too intimate. That’s okay. He’s still a great guy, don’t you think?” NO! I’m not kissin’ any damn frogs to get to the prince. I want a one-way, non-stop, non-refundable ticket to prince-kissin’. I mean it. Second, she’s had her new job for 2 weeks. She’s had five major ailments. Call a waaaaaaaaaaaaambulance! She sounds like somebody’s grandmother. Let me count for a moment: “severe” sinus infection; neck pains, back pain, throat infection. As Bobarino says, “Under or over 34.” What? It means will she have her job under or over 34 days. I’m guessing under, but God love her, I hope not. I was wrong about the Sheesha – she quit cold turkey.
Have you ever been totally in love (ok adoration) with someone that you have never met (kind of like George Clooney maybe) because … well…. just because. (You know who you are here.) I have this friend that I have never met who I understand and who understands me and for some reason, he has become like my mother or sister: he knows when I am thinking about him. There have been very few people in my life who could actually do that – and none at all who I have never met in person. My mom, my sister, my friends Naz and Ali, Shamlan, Bunny… they know/knew when I was thinking about them. Shamlan could tell when I was coming down with a cold from the other side of the continent without hearing from me in a week. Back to my story. This guy is dear to my heart and there is some kind of connection there, regardless what it is. I just hope you know that you are in my thoughts and my prayers and I am wishing for the sun to shine on you every single day. You have done small acts of kindness along your way and God will bless you. I love you, angel man.
Breaking into song. (another change)
Let me ask you something – does unaccompanied singing in a public place bother you? It bothers the crap out of me. For example tonight – I went out with some friends to eat dinner. One of the ladies with us is Lebanese and (I guess this is a Lebanese thing -???), she occasionally bursts into song while we are out eating. This bothers me on several levels. I get embarrassed. I don’t like people staring at me/us and I usually have to get up and perpetrate a call or just run to the bathroom to avoid having to sit there. I don’t even think I could stand it if the songster was at a table in close PROXIMITY to where I was sitting. Why do they DO that? There are appropriate times and places for unaccompanied song; like in the shower or in the car. Leave me out of it. I don’t even care if the songster was say…Andrea Bocelli or Mariah or a professional whoever. It just plain bothers me big time.
You know what else bothers me? Those pan-flute people at the Crowne Plaza. They follow you around until you throw money at them to STOP. One time (not at band camp), I was in one of the private restaurant rooms there with 9 other people getting wasted on 6 bottles of alcohol. The host simply adoooooores the pan flutists and was paying them to continue. I immediately lost my buzz. Well, I managed to get it back after some more saki (or was it vodka? Red wine? – I dunno).
Thankfully, I always take ear plugs with me. They are my own form of Kuwaiti fashion accessory; ideal for the unaccompanied singer, pan flute player, and ubiquitous loud Kuwaiti party. Fortunately for ME, I have found that they also work when whiny, AAP (Arab American Princess) friends start complaining about their various ailments. At least she can vote now, so maybe Kuwait will get better health care (preferably pshchiatric).
Ear plugs for EVERYONE!
Monday, May 16, 2005
Sometimes I wonder if the guy is actually a ghost: maybe it is the actual person that I know on “the other side” making himself known to me by little pieces of comfort – like dreams that you can’t completely remember in the morning, but leave you happy throughout the day.
Maybe it’s just projection. Days and weeks and months go by and you still live alone, eat alone, sleep alone and you wonder if your other half is only the other half of your brain matter talking nonsense; telling you that everyone is destined to meet the person right for them. All the thoughts of a busy work day turn into a cloud of noise when you get home, so you don’t feel quite alone with yourself. The noise of the office and the traffic and the construction down the street continues in your head long after it is finished for the day.
You get too tired to go out with friends and too bored with the same old places and superficial faces, so you make your nest and go to sleep till the next day. And then you realize – what the fu…: it is just PMS.
Monday, May 09, 2005
More on married men: I've got a guy calling me right now, saying, "Please let me see you. I promise you - you are the ONLY one?" Well, chellooooooo - I bet your wife thought that when she married you and had your kids, right? Bet she still thinks she’s the only one.
Let's take my x-fiance for example. I thank God every time I mention him that I didn't marry him (thank you, God). He’s Kuwaiti and I’ve known him most of my adult life. I used to admire him. He was lonely when his father died, so he couldn't wait the 6 months it would have taken me to get to Kuwait to check out the family and the country. (And I’m HERE now, aren’t I and liking it just fine, but not because of him.) So, he married his sister's friend (who is really a lovely lovely person and I like her). They have 7 (as in SEVEN) children. That in itself is Jerry Springer hailag in my book. The last 3 kids were - in his words - "mistakes". I said, "What were you running across the floor, tripped, and your penis fell in her?" She has diabetes and the last 3 births almost killed her. After child #6, she had her tubes tied. (Why? Because it isn’t masculine to have a vasectomy.) Apparently, the tubes became un-tied (or whatever doctor did the procedure incorrectly). So, lucky 7 was a big mistake and almost killed her. After she gave birth and was going through the 40 day stay-at-home period, X-Dude calls me, and says (I still can not friggin believe he said this), “Do you know any girls you can hook me up with?” I know all his 5 sisters-in-law. They are my friends. I like his wife. As a woman, I was offended. Knowing them, I was even more offended. Having him ask me if I knew any girls, I was more more offended. THANK YOU, GOD!!!! I said, “Wow. You must really hate your wife.” He responded, “No, of course not. I love her.” Yeeeeeeeeaaaaahh, riiiiiiiiiiiight.
Divorce. If you are not happy, spare everyone else the unhappiness. Once you become parents, however, both parents DO have an obligation to raise their children as parents. I’ve got male friends whose x-wives won’t let them see their children and they have all but given up on trying. Keep trying. They are your kids. Just because a divorce takes place doesn’t mean that the kids no longer have a father or a mother. The responsibility of raising them – regardless – should be shared.
G, as far as the wife spending money so that the husband can’t afford to marry a second wife: I don’t understand this on either side. I know it happens. It happened to a good friend of mine and when he finally got up some cojones and got divorced, she set fire to their villa and vandalized his BMW, so he wouldn’t have anything left. Pshychobitch! If the guy knows that is what she is doing, why is he still married to her? And hey – here is some radical thinking – why doesn’t SHE have a job and get her own shit? If I were a man (if only), that kind of spending would get real old, real quick.
I’ve got friends who ask for (and receive) diamond watches and cars. What is UP with that? I can’t ask for a shawarma or a box of chocolates without feeling guilty about it. I go out with this particular friend, just to see if her group of men are any different humans: maybe there is a species of gift-giving men. When I met them, they seemed to be normal, intelligent men. Girlfriend has only worked for about 6 months in her entire life. She has an X5 and a Mercedes 350. Her furniture and wide screen TV were paid for. I know that she's pretty much gahaba and all that, but still – how does she do it?
I can’t even find a decent, single guy who wants to go to dinner. What is UP with this country?
Sunday, May 08, 2005
Then, there is my favorite: "I want to marry you too - muttaa." Great, where is my baby blue Ferrari with the kidskin beige interior for my mahar? I'm like, 'hey - is your wife marrying other guys muttaa right now too? Do you think she's like UNDER a temporary husband right about now? OH, forgive me - she's a woman and NOT ALLOWED. That's not a temporary husband she's under - it is just a fu...buddy. :D
"I'm just staying married for the kids." If I had kids, I would never never not ever teach them that it is OKAY to be unhappy. It isn't. Not for any reason when you can change it. Let's be realistic, unhappy-married-men: You are staying because you enjoy a lifestyle. You enjoy surrounded by a family and your kids, yet you still want a little on the side. You want your cake and you want to eat it too. It doesn't happen that way. Once you are unhappy, it permeates your home. Your kids feel it. They think that it will be okay to have the same kind of relationship once they are old enough to marry.
I just had to bitch about that because several of them are making me ill at the moment.
I'm bored. I'm really ready to get on a plane and get back to the US of Hey for a while. I miss my mommy. I miss not having dust in my room. I miss our swimming pool with all the trees around it and the deer that come by to graze at twilight or at dawn. I miss my nefew and his charming wit. I miss my grumpy dad and going to eat breakfast with him at the Silver Diner. I miss having giggle fits with my sister over a few glasses of wine and CHEAP sushi. I miss my brother-in-law's quiet presence around the house; doing whatever man-things he's got on his schedule. I miss the 2 big dogs and the little scamp dog.
And yes, I miss my country where there is sanctity of married people's lives. I miss knowing that when a man tells you he is single, he probably is - for fear of risking alimony payments in a lengthy divorce proceeding, leading way to the division of his shared ASSets.
I miss PITCHERS of margaritas and nachos (I LOVE that word). Nacho nacho nacho. And salsa. In the pool. Nacho in the pool fi Amreeka. tee hee.
Speaking of nachos - Did you know that I celebrated 05/05/05 by circulating an SMS with a picture of a guy's butt and the words, "Happy khamsa, khamsa, khamsa." Gay pride day???? hmmmm.....
I haven't felt like writing for a while. I haven't been able to put stuff into words. It just isn't coming to me. I hope you will pardon my incessant ramblings.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
I've also been working at a customer site, collecting requirements and attending stupid meetings. I finally gave in and did something incredibly smart: I bought a digital recorder, so that I wouldn't actually have to sit there!
Ok, birthday week (yes, week) was a blast. I can't remember when I've laughed so hard – maybe during the occupation when I was in training with SheeshaGirl in DC in the Red Cross and we, as trauma trainees, got continually kicked out of the exams. During the exams, the trainees must hold the victim's head (stabilizing the neck and backbone) until help arrives (by shouting "Somebody call 911!!!" until somebody comes to the aid). SheeshaGirl always left me to "go get help" (she was supposed to BE the HELP – Kuwaitiyah – macu faydah). I kept running over and pretending to be a gay man named Kevin who was an Aquarius and saying, "how may I help you today?" Anyways, long story short: Birthday Week 2005…
I've to say that the lunch at Sakura was absolutely, by far, the most fun. 10 of us got into one of those party rooms with the very-hard-to-get-out-of chair things (do you think that Japanese people have less trouble getting out of them? They must.) MuslimArtist, Bobarino, his girlfriend "Fish" (not because she's smelly or anything, but because her name is the same as a fish), SheeshaGirl and SailorMan, Brazilian and Jeff, CineDude and Naz were all there. It was still light outside, so of course, Bunny was home sleeping (he only ventures outside the batcave at night). Is sushi euphoric or is it just me? The more you eat, the funnier everyone gets (gee, like alcohol - how ironic!).
Anyhoo, leave it to Jeff to start up the gutter talk. I didn't KNOW what a "dirty sanchez" or "tossed salad" was. If only I could go back in time and erase those two GOD-AWFUL images from my mind, I would feel much better (especially because the turd talk started just as they brought the chocolate mousse cake - EEEEEEWWWW).
It is incredibly difficult to make Babarino blush and get grossed out: either feat would be hilarious, but together, there were just no words to describe it. I noticed, however, that he did manage to finish his cake. I couldn't.
I know that I am usually hard to gross out. I pride myself in it. The one time (not at band camp) that I can recall when I was truly disgusted (to the point of having to pull the car over as I was driving from gagging) was when my friend, CT (a nurse), told me a story of a woman who was comatose. She described, in acute detail, the smell of the room and the source of the offending odor. Burn it from my memory!!!
How come everything ends up with potty talk? As my nefew says, "Aunt (DesertGirl), you got potty mouth!" Yep. Guess so.
We went to a party (not a potty) on Thursday night at CineDude's house. I hadn't seen MuslimArtist in a looooooooooooooonnnng time and she looked drop-dead gorgeous in a dress I must possess and high heel (FM) sandals. Everybody was dancing, except for me (not in the mood). The people there were great (with the exception of one weasely dude from the U ASS Embassy). Good crowd PLUS M&M's at the door. I gave Bunny the green ones. He didn't get it. I had to explain. I still didn't get "any". Not even a birthday sympathy bop. (Sadness, heavy sigh.)
For the actual birthday day, Bunny and I went to the Hilton for dinner at the Blue Elephant (I call it the "Blue Feel"). I ate like a horse and he surprised me with a strawberry cheesecake which I haven't finished yet (because as soon as I do – I am on a diet. Which means that I will keep a piece in the freezer for about a year). It was a lovely evening (I still didn't get "any" – sadness, heavy sigh).
My mother called to read me my birthday horoscope: I'm supposed to get married in August (any handsome men out there wish to assist?). My mom thinks that's great because I will be in the States in August, so they can save money on the plane fare. She thinks of everything. I just adore her.
DUDE, WHERE'S MY PRINCE????
There was yet ANOTHER meeting held at the KGB to tell people that they could NOT be our friends anymore. Well hel-loooooo dumbasses, you can't do that to people. They are so bad. INTEGRITY – do you GET IT? It think it is funny that they have placed so much importance on me and several others who left there under similar circumstances. I must be a very influential person, don't you think?
My philosophy is this: Happy employees are productive employees. Treat people well and they will treat you well. Companies don't make friends by screwing people over.
There was a quote by someone who was president (or CEO or Chairman) of a computer software company in the Mid-West US. He said, "At 5:00 every evening, I watch as 95% of my company's assets drive out the front gate." That's just it – the company IS the people they employ. It isn't about material assets, it is about the people who work with them.
Ok, on to another gross subject… Enough serious talk.
I changed the colors in my apartment to "summer" from "winter" (white and green from burgundy). That is why my dog got sick and puked on literally everything white I have: my new white silk duvet; my white sofa, my white carpet. Yak! Yak! Yak! The 3 vets who looked at her this morning thought that was hilarious. Thankfully, DesertDog was kind enough to actually go outside before the explosive diarrhea set in.
This is my world and how pathetic it is.
DesertDawg is ok now (another trip down to IVH). She had a fever and was suffering from dehydration. It was probably caused when I changed her normal dog food (DAMN YOU SULTAN CENTER for not stocking the regular!!!!) in combination with the affects of the booster vaccinations that she had 3 days ago.
I am now looking forward to another fun weekend (please, please, please) free of dog yak/poop and hopefully with a single, tall, dark, handsome man present. Maybe my future husband (hurry up, damn it – we only have a few months!!!).
Should I look for my dress this weekend?
Book a hall?
Hire a wedding planner?
Call the florist?