There was a guy that I met last year. I’m just not that into him. I went out with him a few times and my God – he is SO pushy. He kept asking me to go to his villa (which he shares rent on with 6 other guys) for parties and, “Bring your clothes, so you can spend the night.” Hel-looooooo! My place is only about 15 minutes away; and even if it was an hour away – what makes him think I’m going to do a sleepover? Duuuuuuh.
Anyhoo, so today, I am stampeding out of work at around lunchtime and BAM! There he is in my face… sitting in our reception area….with an incredibly good looking, tall man. I said hello to Pushyman and he introduced me to “his partner” (which is BS because I know Pushyman works for him). I immediately whip out my… business card and give it to AB (as we shall refer to him; only initials like in the Arab Times). AB starts talking business with me and I forget that Pushyman is even standing there (he walked out to the parking lot for a cigarette). AB ended up asking me to dinner. I’ll be upset if he’s married. I hate that. He probably is because he is Kuwaiti and over 12 years old… unless I get lucky and he’s divorced or she’s dead or whatever (that was mean – going to Hell). I hope “dinner” doesn’t mean “tamesha” or Shar al Mataaem.
I wonder if Pushyman understands that I’m Just Not That Into Him. I missed Oprah (damn work!) yesterday when the guy from Sex In The City who coined that phrase was on. Pushyman is nice in his own way. I could explain some reasons why I’m not into him… Oh, what the Hell, I will. He lied to me twice as soon as I met him (like I’m not going to find out. Like I’m a stupid ajnabeeya! As if!) Then he asked me to dinner which turned out to be a 300 fil cup of coffee at an outdoor café: I made such a big deal out of it that he was forced to take me to a nice restaurant and then he stiffed the Very Nice Waiter from South Africa out of a tip, forcing me to sneak back and give him a nicer tip. Ick! I hate stupid and cheap. THEN he tells me about his haileg x-wife and asks me how I would feel about getting married – soon – and how do I like babies (ew, ew, ew! Bile!). I just didn’t call him again and didn’t answer his 4 million phone calls inviting me to parties with a bunch of cheap hoochies (he made it sound SO exciting! I shall repeat – AS IF!).
Bunny is still MIA. L (sadness)
Barbecue Boy is bored and wants to spend time with me (probably around sheesha). He has sheesha-cough. I told him he should start drinking alcohol and quit the sheesha because it would be way more healthy for him (especially red wine). Every time I talk to him, it sounds like he is going to hack up a lung. Guys – that is just not sexy. He took his family to the desert and had his mother, sister, and a few more relatives in the car when I called to sing him the Diarrhea Song. (He is easily grossed out.) It was even more hysterical when the only reaction I got was a silent pause, followed by, “I’m with my mother right now. Can I call you back?” I was in the car with Naz – both of us laughing our asses off (yeah – that’s a lot of ass!).
If anyone would like the lyrics to the Diarrhea Song, please post a comment and I will be happy to comply. Maybe to reciprocate, you could give me the full lyrics to “Bel Belli, Bel Bool,” because I only know that phrase and “Belli”.
I went to the fabric souq last night and about a million icky cigarette-smoking men wearing clothes purchased at the Friday Market stared at my butt. The friend that I took down there for the first time seemed to enjoy it. I, once again, bought a whole lot of crap that I don’t really need. Indian Heritage is having a sale for Hala Hala. I got home around 10 and at one of the humungous hot dogs I had left (fresh pack). Size does matter. Not a very nutritious dinner, but okay.
My right arm hurts from mousing. I got tennis elbow 2 years go from clicking the mouse too much. I told all my friends and co-workers that I have tennis elbow (so that they would think that I'm athletic). I had to go for physio-therapy. They stuck electrodes on me and it almost made me puke, so I stopped. I have a high electromagnetic field. Go figure.