Thursday, January 27, 2005

She's Just Not That Into You

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.

3 comments:

A~ said...

The diarrhea song! I've got a whole new respect for you now! *chuckle*
you seriously need to send me an arabic-english dictionary- you keep trippin' me up, girl! :)
Don't let the men get you down- buy yourself some chocolate this weekend, did you know it's a sex substitute? :) Love,A~

Jacqui said...

Hey There Ameerab,

I've been visiting your blog frequently for the past few weeks and I enjoy it.. especially your posts about BBQ boy :P hehe But I have something a bit irrelevant to mention to you, I would like to point out to you a post on how to change your site feed into snippets on www.kuwaitblogs.com, so that when your posts show up on Safat they won't be too long and ruin the site. (Sometimes when you format a post or insert a picture it becomes too long and Safat doesn't do that well in IE)

So could you please change your settings to showing Short Feeds :) Thanks alot

Sou said...

I WATCHED THAT OPRAH SHOW!!! TWICE!! I even wrote about it, hehe...An Explanation?