PAWS

Diego is still at PAWS and looking for a good home.

PAWS is the animal rescue league in Kuwait. They don't have a building or kennels (after the guy at IVH took over their project to make a profit by renting out kennels that should have gone to rescued animals). PAWS is looking for donations in the form of:

• Money
• Food
• Kennels - space to put animals
• Foster care for dogs & cats

Right now, the 2 ladies, Margaret and Lynette are keeping animals in their homes (which, you can imagine, would drive one nuts after a while).

Anyone who can help in ANY way - call 944-0089. Website: http://paws-kuwait.org/

Plastic Surgery

If you could have plastic surgery, what would be 3 (or less) things that you would change?

I was having this discussion with a friend the other night. He's American. We had previously discussed my amazement at that party a while back as to the number of boob jobs there have been "popping up" all over Kuwait. Since then, he says he has noticed many. I told him that I would probably choose to have my breast size reduced and lifted. His response, "Oh yeah, I can hear you telling the doctor, 'Hey, can you lift these about 8 years?'' Ok, pig. But yeah, basically.

I wouldn't do botox 'cause (unlike most of my friends), I hate tanning. I would prefer to go to a salon and dish out 25 kd (not now - before) to get tan-in-a-can. It is like getting a massage, only with color. Very relaxing.

I'd also probably get my overbite straightened. I don't have a big overbite, but one of those really cute Goldie Hawn overbites (that has driven me crazy my entire life). Now, it is just downright annoying.

I haven't heard back from the lawyer men. I figured I would give it some time and let them do their thang.

I took Desert Dawg out for a nice walk in the sunshine today after her bath. She looks like a little white angel in the sun and was very happy to be out. We watched the ferry come in from Failaka - full of happy people singing songs as it rounded the corner into the breakers. I guess it is a new-age boom.

I haven't called ShortMan back yet. I guess I should. Ok, I will - just to say that we are friends. I sent him some SMSs. Does that count?

Can you tell that I'm feeling better?

SheeshaGirl invited me to the last disco in the desert at her friends'camp tonight. I don't think I'm going to go. Everybody there is still in diapers. SheeshaGirl is in her 30's and she's still running around with 20-24 year olds. Sorry, I just can't be anybody's mommy (MILF or whatever). Ew.

This is the last weekend for all the camps in the desert - as per the municipality law. I love the discos in the desert. I love winter here. Why, oh why can't summer be cooler? Then, they might leave the discos up year-round for our fun and enjoyment.

Sadly, I know very few people with chalets. I will have to try harder to make friends with chalets. Maybe hitch-hike in B'naider or something. Maybe I will deflate one of my tires and stand by the road, looking helpless. That reminds me to go get my spare tire fixed.

Distractions

What I want to know is this: Why is it that every short man on every continent in the entire world wants ME? I mean, if the guy is ugly and short, he is twice as likely to seek me out. It happens in nightclubs. It happens on the street. It happens through friends. I am THE Short and Ugly Magnet.

Do you know what "my type" is? Single, 6'4" with a deep voice, sincere laugh, and great teeth. My Type is NEVER what I get.

I am trying to emerge from my funk in various ways. Last night, I decided to do something I am familiar with: Recreational Dating. I went out with a guy from an online service. Yes, ladies and gentlemen; he was short (top of his head at about ear-level to me) AND he was married (although reasonably attractive). Why is it that they always somehow forget to mention on their online profiles that they are married? "It's okay, though, because I want to feel completely free with you." Um... hellooooooooo.... why you not completely free with Mrs. Short Man?

This was almost as bad as the Barbecue Boy saga.

We had a great dinner, however, and he really did try to make me happy (aka pave the way to Getting in My Pants). He took me to Al Boom. I hadn't been there for a long time. Isn't it funny how you always run into old friends and business associates when you are out with someone short and ugly (or just short in this case)? Yes, I saw several rather high-ranking dignitaries at the next table. (Oh God, maybe they didn't recognize me.) Short Man says, "I've seen their pictures in the paper." Well yuh - no duuuuh. Luckily, there was not a photographer in sight.

Which leads me to another topic: Why is it that when Kuwaiti dignitaries are hosting delegations, they don't have a clue about protocol? Last night, the lowest-ranking-Kuwaiti at the table was sending SMS's - paying no attention to the guests. Highest-ranking-Kuwaiti was speaking to 4 other guys in Arabic and laughing it up while the delegation-dudes sat there (sans translator), looking incredibly bored. You would think that by now, someone might have enlisted the use of a protocol attache - maybe someone who knew what the hell he/she was doing! I noticed that they brought 2 very pretty Kuwaiti women with them and one sounded very well educated. Kudos on that point. Several years ago, I hardly ever saw women attending functions with visiting delegations

Do you know what Al-Boom restaurant does now? They give you a 6" nail as a gift as you are leaving. What the phuck is that? A flower would have been nice. They say it is an authentic nail used to make the boom. What I want to know is this: what happens if you are a visiting delegation member (without diplomatic immunity) and you forget to take the 6" nail out of your pocket before returning to your home country? I mean, the restaurant HAS to know that most of the people going there are foreigners. How could you explain that even being in your check-in luggage. "Oh yes, Mr. INS Officer from Homeland Security, this is an authentic boom bolt. I got it after I had dinner in Kuwait...." Things that make you go 'hmmmmmm'.

This goes out to Not_without_my_heels for her comment on the last post about still waiting for the 100 doors to open: One thing I've learned (through a LOT of trial and error) is this: NO ONE is going to market you better than you. You have to pound the pavement, set schedules and goals for yourself, and then go after them. I was out of work once for 8 months here in Kuwait. The only way I made it through was by doing freelance work for many different companies. I networked with people I might not have otherwise. I picked up the Kuwait Pocket Guide and Kuwait Top 100 Lists and sent my resume EVERYWHERE in Kuwait (they list both fax and e-mail addresses for companies). Send, send, and when you are really tired of sending, send some more. Then, try to schedule interviews as often as possible. I tried to schedule 2 per day - even if they were with loser companies (you never know who might be able to refer you to someone else). Find a selling point about yourself that is unique. Be confident. Be friendly. Doors will open. You go, girl.

Some doors have opened for me in the past 2 weeks. I think I will join another company on April Fools' Day (April 1). It is also my Aunt Virginia's birthday (God rest her soul). I always feel that she is looking out for me.

And Sometimes God Sends You Lawyers Who are Also Angels

So I went to see a VERY good lawyer friend who likes to see his name and picture in the paper. I know him because I was invited to his party place once by a hoochie friend. We had drinks there that night - and then several other nights. The guy is totally amiable, so after several years of not being in touch with him at all, I had the opportunity to use his services this week.

If anyone out there needs an outstanding group of lawyers with contract and labor experience, write to me (amerab@gmail.com) and I'll give you his contact details. They are extremely professional (by Western standards) and speak English well.

It sucks that it has come to that, but I'm tired of people thinking that I am a stupid ajnabeeya and that I don't have any rights. Anyone who picks up a Kuwait Labor Law book (available at Muthanna) will know that you do have rights. The KGB wanted me to sign an 10 page agreement - basically giving them the right to my life and giving me no rights whatsoever, so I took it to LawyerMan et al. I use the term, "bullshcit" all the time, but it carries SO much more weight when a lawyer says it during a meeting.

Call me a pushy, agressive American if you will, but hey - when push comes to shove, we try to find out what our rights are and then stick by them. I love LawyerMan. I simply do. I feel so much better after talking to him last night. Now, I don't have to converse with the KGB. Yippee.

I haven't had the time to socialize. I am going to try to rectify that this weekend. I did have lunch with MuslimArtist and TataBotata yesterday (sorry, but Starbucks DOESN'T COUNT as lunch, MA!!!!) outside in the sunshine. My stomach was screaming, "sushi''! That's ok. I hadn't seen my pal in a while, so it was nice hanging with her. Tata has some great ideas and he is kind of a whirlwind of creativity, so it is always nice to spend a little time with him.

Bunny has been incredibly supportive lately. He is my pillar of strength - ready to kick the world's ass if they do me wrong. I love that. Sometimes, his strength and fortitude amazes me at times when I don't think that he's noticing how I feel about a particular thing. He just knows and he appears (and then disappears, unfortunately). Like Lois Lane to Superman, I guess a girl just can't have it all. LOL

This past week, I have been to visit old friends who I haven't seen in a while and had chance meetings with others - all VERY positive meetings. When one door closes, a hundred more open.

Sometimes God Sends You Angels

SheeshaGirl was discussing how she was out of work for 7 months. (I got her an interview at the place where she works now and I feel pretty good about that.) She said that she was somewhere when she was unemployed and that a beggar came up and asked her for money; she shooed him away and told us, "As if I had any money to give him! I didn't even have a job."

Well.... you know what? God sends us all angels every single day. You don't know what form they may take or how they will appear. I am working double time to find change in my car for the street sweepers who appear and say, "Salam alaykum, mama". I'm going to try extra hard to be kinder to people and do what I can to help others.

In 1999, the love of my life died. A brief 2 months later, I was told (not in a kind way) that a very close bedoon friend had taken his own life. Basically, I was rocked to the core. I took my dog and went down to the beach to be alone. I was thinking about Hilal and how he had come to me several months before, crying, and asking for my help. I did everything I could possibly have done, but of course in tragedy, you always ask yourself if you could have done something more or something differently. While I was sitting there, a pretty Philipino woman tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if I would like to join her and her group of friends to share the fish that they were barbecueing. There were about 4 other women there with their children and we shared a few delicious fish. I'll never forget that day. God sends you angels.

I received some very nice comments here on my blog from angels who have never even met me. I'm going to try to write more positive things.

I guess I'll have to actually go out with some of my crazed friends, so that I can get material to write about.

Oh, which brings me to Petite. Spy Petite called me last night and had the audacity (thanks for that word, MA) to ask me if she could borrow one of my cars for a few days (I think she was aiming for the sports car). AS IF. I told her that they rent cars everywhere in the country and since she has made such a big deal of flaunting her DOD card, she could probably pick one up easily.

I think I will go out on Tuesday, Hailag Night Out, and see what happens. I'll write more then.

Thanks, Angels. God Bless you!

Disgusted

Sorry I haven't been blogging very often. It is nice to know that I have a few people out there who actually a) read my crap and 2) care. My job situation really has me down. I knew that some companies were bad, but some are really really bad and apparently, I have been working for one. How do good companies go bad? Funk dat!

I haven't been going out much. Even men have lost their appeal to me (not that I am heading in the 'other' direction. I likes men toooooooo much for that). What to do, baba? (head shaking back and forth AND up and down!)

I found a puppy running in the street several nights ago. It was a small, black shepard/lab mix and looked very frightened. I felt like it was a test from God, so I couldn't let anything happen to it. I took it home, gave it a bath and some doggy meds, and fed him. He became very playful and friendly. I think someone in Jabriya had been feeding him, but he was quite obviously a street dawg. I named him,"Diego" because he looks like a Diego. I took him down to one of the ladies at PAWS, after I took him to a vet. If anyone would like him, please call PAWS at 9440089. He is friendly, good with other dogs and kids, and is 5 months old. Write to me at amerab@gmail.com and I will send you his picture/film clip.

I was one of the people to consistently donated money at the IVH for the rescue center. I watched as the kennels were built, expectant to see what would happen - hoping for good things in Kuwait. I come to find out now that the owner of the IVH rented the kennels out to K9 dogs for a profit. What about my donations? What about the trust that people put in him? The rescue league is now PAWS and they are housing animals from their homes. This is so wrong. Another reason I am disgusted this week.

Anyways, my good deed done, I go on.

I went out with SheeshaGirl last night on her blind date with a guy she met on cupidbay.com. I've honestly got to say - it was one of the best dates I've been on in a long time; and it wasn't even MY date! The guy was such a nice person and we really had a nice evening together. They dropped me off and went to have coffee alone. I guess SheeshaGirl was assured that he wasn't an axe murderer, so she didn't need me. For once, I approve of someone she's dating. The other guys were just ICK - with the exception of my friend, Naz.

I had a lovely breakfast at Johnny Rockets with MuslimArtist on Friday. I was supposed to go out over the weekend, but depression kept me in. Friday, the weather was gorgeous and with the exception of running into some fake-ass-know-it-alls from work, it was a very pleasant day.

Petite has become a disappointment. Apparently, she is either shagging and relaying info back to one particular manager at my KGB (as in USSR days) workplace, or just relaying information. I think that it may be both (I'm in a cynical mood - can you tell). Homey don't play both sides of the fence, so I don't think I'll hang with her much. Petite called SheeshaGirl from Jleeb police station last night after she got rear-ended (welcome to Kuwait!) in her rental car. AS IF we girls would venture NEAR a police station in Jleeb. Ew. Ick. Yuck. I told her she should call her know-it-all-pain-in-the-ass boyfriend(s). Bada BING.

God, I need chocolate in a bad way. This is so wrong.

I may venture outside of my house today. I just haven't been in the mood. Please send words of inspiration.

Haven't been able to blog

I am no longer working for the KGB. I got outa there. Problem is that now, I dont'have access to a PC and I just can't be as creative sitting in a rented cubicle, feeling like I am in some kind of high-tech peep show. Very strange feeling.

I don't have any happy-g0-lucky anecdotal stories to share today, unfortunately. I had written a long story, but lost it on my PC, so I will have to think up some more trash to amuse myself with later!

OCD's in Various Forms

Sometimes you want to smack your friends upside the head. (Sometimes they want to smack you upside the head, but that is for their blogs, not mine.)

My friend, SheeshaGirl, for example. I love her. She’s a great girl. Good heart; Generally sunny disposition. What I don’t like is her man-of-the-week club. Yes, yes – this sounds like the pot calling the kettle black. It isn’t that I care that she HAS a man every week. I really wouldn’t care if she had 2-3 men a day. Not my business. What makes me truly nutty is the way she CARRIES ON about them like they were THE only man in the whole world – and every week a new one to dote on. “My baby is so adorable. Isn’t (flan) so cute? Look at the SMSs he sent me! I just love this guy. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah….” SHUT UP! I feel like I’m back in 6th grade. Let’s talk about guy at recess on the playground.

This weekend, play friend Talal almost hits my car, as SheeshaGirl has allowed him to drive her car (drunk). I lit into her like she was a 3 year old who had tried to stick its finger in an electric socket. Okay, you want to kill yourself – fine. Just don’t take me/others with you.

THEN, she wanted me to apologize to HIM (as he thought I had over-reacted). AS IF. “It means the world to me that you like him. I respect your opinion.” How the pluck am I supposed to like him when he is obnoxious and almost hits mine and another car – on a relatively empty road? Then, the little schidt has the nerve to tell me, “I’m not drunk. That’s just the way we drive in Kuwait. Get used to it.” I swear to God, this is why I don’t arm myself. And, “means the world to me…” I just met the dumbass! I would like at least 2 days before I form an opinion.

Her 2 week mutaa marriage to Naz is over. Boo hoo. I told Naz, “So… that’s your WIFE?” tee hee. He doesn’t deserve it. Remind me never ever ever to hook up my girlfriends. Unless as a form of revenge or vindictiveness - like I did with my friends Sam and Trish.

He was looking for a rich, beautiful woman to support him. She was looking for same in the male form. They wore amazing clothes and jewelry and had about 10 cents between them. I introduced them and it was "looooooove". They didn't get out of bed for the first 2 months. Whenever they went out, heads turned because they were such a gorgeous couple. For the first several months, they both paid with credit cards, thinking that the other would pay the bill when it rolled around. When they figured out that they were both poor, the stealing began. She stole from him; he stole from her. I laughed my ass off (not all of it).

My personal feeling on dating is – why talk about it when you have to know that you are just going to jinx yourself? Let it flow naturally. Don’t discuss. Don’t obsess. Don’t exaggerate – just let it flooooooooooowwww. Why drag your girlfriends into every little thing? That is so juvenile. Professional daters don’t go there.

Bo Jaij – I watched “Bridget Jones” again last night and yes – it is me; butt and all. Except I don’t smoke ever. I also think Hugh Grant looks like a weasel.

Speaking of Hugh Grant: I went to LA and we were walking to our car off Sunset Blvd and I saw a hooker giving a client a BJ in a car, and I actually looked at the guy to see if he was someone famous. (I couldn't see from her position if the woman was Divine Brown or not.) He just looked at me and smiled. My friend, Angela, almost fell over a trash can laughing. Everyone should have a Hollywood moment.

Side-note: I love the movie, “Love Actually”. I always cry at the end when they are doing the airport montage. It is just so touching (sniffle).

My 4 year quest to re-connect with Hmoud Nasser ended this weekend. It definitely ended. I hadn’t remembered him looking so… so….. anti-masculine. Have you seen his video for his song, “Habibi” (original title, I know, but I like the song)? Anyways, some Lebanese choreographer must have taught him how to wave his hands in the air (ah like you just don’t care…). It seems like all those taught-movements have stuck with him because I asked him a question (in Arabic no less) and instead of responding with actual words, he blew me a kiss (from 2 feet away) and did the same hand gestures as in the video. Oooooooh tay. What was THAT all about? He used to be such a genuine guy with a little lisp (and masculine attire), and a guitar.

I found a new bra this weekend. Debenham’s t-shirt bra. I like it and so do The Girls. Speaking of girls – I was somewhere over the weekend and I am wondering if all the Kuwaiti girls go to the same plastic surgeon to get their boobs done. They all looked like the same size. I actually found myself staring. There is no bra in the world that can pick ‘em up like that. And they were all about the same size as those small, green, Egyptian melons, shamaam. There is going to be an entire shamaam generation in Kuwait. "Shamaamary" generation - tee hee.

A funny traffic-related story: My aggressive American former Army friend, Bobarino, fought for Kuwait in ‘91, so I believe that he has a personal vendetta against all wrongs in Kuwait in current times. Some little kid in a Mazda cut in front of him, tires-a-squeelin, and almost made him flip his Tahoe. He followed the kid for miles, until he turned into a driveway. Babarino came up behind him and said, “You almost killed me back there!” Twerp gets out, flashes an American passport and says, “I don’t care, I’m American.” Babarino pulls his out and says, “Well, ya know what – today is your lucky day because I am too.” He proceeded to berate the twerp in front of neighbors, asking who Twerp’s father was, etc. etc. Sounds like he put the Fear of God into him. Good.

I don’t know about all y’alls, but I have found that a LOT of my homeboys/girls drive like they own Kuwait. (“My Father Does Own The Road”). I have been guilty of it at times (but not cause I’m from the US – just because I drive like a maniac and I feel right at home here). What is different about most of the aggressive American drivers I have found here is that they will follow you and shout and be nasty (they don’t care about face). We have road rage back there, and it seems to have been brought here by some of the home-peeps.

Bobarino was also responsible for smacking a young Kuwait’s head into the roof of a car because youngKuwaiti grabbed Bobarino’s Pilipino girlfriend’s butt while they were waiting for their car in front of a mall. Bobarino told him never to treat a woman like that again, ever. Tee hee. That makes me giggle.

I bought 5 pairs of shoes this weekend and a bag. You might think that is OCD, but it isn’t really. I went to the Cheap Shoe Mall (Munira complex across from M&S). I bought 5 pairs of 5kd shoes, so I have no guilt whatsoever. Shoes only last in Kuwait for 9 nanoseconds anyways with all the stones and dust and mud pits that we have to walk through – and that is just going to work in the morning.

Which makes me wonder why…. Kuwait is the Hooker Shoe Capital of The World. If you are a hooker, or know someone who is, you can definitely find your shoes here. Platform shoes, shiny shoes, boots, acrylic heels, acrylic platforms, tennis-shoes-a-go-go – all in various shades and sizes: They’ve got whatever you need. I think that this place could sell to hookers everywhere. Why isn’t there an Official Kuwaiti Hooker Shoe E-commerce site? I mean, hookers in London, Amsterdam, LA, Vegas, New York could all take advantage of the low prices and different varieties that we have here. Who would have guessed (until you move here) that there are hooker shoes in the desert? If you would like to know where to find the best hooker shoes, there is an entire mall across from Marks & Spencer in Salmiya. Go there. Take pictures. Tell your friends.

My question is this: With all those enormous shamaamary glands, how they gonna walk in hooker shoes? The law of physics should be taken into consideration.

I live in a slum. My building is only 8 years old and it is disgusting me. They seem to have completed most of the sewage re-construction, but there is still a mud pit/trench surrounding my building. I went to visit a friend in Jabriya who has just moved into a gorgeous new building with a pool (accommodation envy). Whoever the owner is did a good job. It costs 270 for 2 br/2 full bath. The finishing is nicely done all around. The only problem is – it is in Jabriya. When you look out the window, you see other buildings right in your face. At least in mine, I get a partial sea view and I’ve got a big balcony. Anyhoo, the upkeep in my building really leaves a lot to be desired. My female Canadian friend is looking for a female professional (as in non-hooker) roommate if anyone knows someone. It is fully furnished; everything is new. Just write to me if you would like info (amerab@gmail.com).

I’m hungry. It is all MrsBaker’s fault. I tuned into her blog a few minutes ago and saw lots of pictures of food items. Then, she reminded me of New England (and I put the two together). Now, I am craving New England foods: Coffee cabinet, grinders, clam cakes, REAL Greek pizza, Portuguese cheese, seafood zuppa (Cyndy!), funnel cake, Dell’s, Newport Creamery, SWORDFISH. Damn. I should shoot myself now and put an end to the misery (yeah - mine AND yours!)

I wish I could do more.

I am posting this as a separate post, because it is a serious matter (and I'm usually not). Some people joke when things bother them and you never really know what their undercurrent is.

My friend called me over the weekend. He is an Irish man in his 40’s – big and strong. He called me, sobbing, because his 5 year old son had been molested by a 15 year old neighbor boy. I don’t know if his son had been raped or not. He was so upset and I felt helpless to do anything for him, but listen (sometimes, that is all you can do). I gave him the number of a friend in the Ministry of Interior who, I hope and pray, will feel as repulsed and disgusted about it as I did; and hopefully be able to help him. It just turned my stomach. I get upset if someone remotely bothers my dog. I can’t imagine if I had a child and something like that happened. I suppose they would never find the aggressor’s body, but that’s just me. At 15, the aggressor isn’t even a whole person yet. God, I hope that I don’t see my friend’s name in the newspaper in a few days. I don’t want to talk too much more about this (although I’ll respond to comments) because I feel like crying when I think about it and there is nothing more I can do.

Rights, Cool Women I've Known, Family, and Dogs

I remember meetings held during the occupation in 90 and 91, in and around Washington, DC. I went to all the meetings on Kuwait that I could possibly attend at that time – anything that would help Kuwait and where I could glean more information. I didn’t understand very much Arabic at the time, but I tried to understand as much as I could from what they were saying; sometimes someone nice sitting next to me would translate.

I can’t remember who organized one particular conference, but as I recall, it was the Kuwaiti Muslim Students’ Association. As I do recall vividly, they asked the women to sit in the back of the room, as the men hurriedly took the seats in the front. I remember a few defiant Kuwaiti women (including several sheikhas) who stayed where they were in the front, and when asked again by the men to move their seats, spoke in firm voices, saying that Kuwait is their country too and they could sit where ever they wanted. I was so proud of them. I wanted to go and sit there too, but I’m not Kuwaiti and it wouldn’t have had the same affect.

I have heard that Lulwa Qatami sat between men at the parliament session the other day during the discussion of women’s rights. When she was asked by security guards to leave, she stayed in defiance. Perhaps she was in Washington when I was, attending some of those same meetings with Rula Dashti and our friends.

I received an e-mail today from an American friend who was married to a Kuwaiti and has Kuwaiti nationality now. She (and her children) has been victim of both physical and emotional abuse over many years. (Under normal circumstances, I would say, ‘leave’ but unfortunately, she was married to a member of the ruling family, so her children cannot leave the country.) I was blown away by her negative comments after I sent her links to the articles on the rally: “I am Pro women's vote, although as a Kuwaiti citizen I would question women in key positions in Kuwait, for now. Both sexes need to evolve a bit, and a couple more generations will pass before this can happen smoothly. Emotional intelligence plays a key factor in this transition.” I am truly appalled and at a loss for words.

I received an e-mail from an anonymous person responding to my post yesterday, saying that she was one of the ladies who went as an honorary sergeant with the Allied forces. They trained at Fort Dix in New Jersey, doing their basic training and getting knocked around by the marines. A particular favorite at the base, as I hear, was the gas chamber; where they were asked to take off their masks and breathe. Some of the ladies went on to document the war crimes for the Pentagon. They saw/heard things that many people (including men) couldn't take. Now, I am dying to know which one of the women wrote to me.

I love blogging for several reasons: BMC’ing is right at the top with making new friends and the ironies that come along with writing about issues that trigger things inside other people.

Every now and then, I run into someone who I knew during those difficult days of the Occupation. We were in a different place and time and now, walking down the street, or at a party; I run into them and I feel like they are kindred souls. I’ve changed a little since then, so many of them don’t recognize me, but I always try to stop and say hello. I still have many friends from that period in my life. Sometimes, out of adversity come good things.

… the Desert Girl train is now switching to another track…

I got home yesterday and Desert Dog had left me a "gift" (speaking of defiance). She was obviously QUITE perturbed about my frolicking around with other dogs. I only noticed my "gift" after we had taken a long walk in front of the Scientific Center.

I would like to say that our walk was quiet and pleasant, but it was not. There were 2 men/boys who had a small pack of lulu’s (Pomeranian/Spitz mixes). One of the men/boys was shouting for his dogs to run after mine. This makes me very nervous because I have actually seen small dogs attacked by packs of other small dogs. What happens is that they bite, pull, and rip at the victim dog from different directions, in an attempt to tear it apart. I shouted (as the stupid Egyptian security guards looked on) for them to get their dogs away from mine and to put their dogs on a leash (at least). Poor little Desert Dog was shaking badly. It happened so fast that I was trying to keep the other dogs away from her – when what I should have been doing was grabbing her and picking her up. For the rest of our hour-long walk, Desert Dog kept her tail between her legs and glanced over her shoulder.

This is indicative of how I feel sometimes walking through the malls in Kuwait. The roaming gangs of young men/boys sometimes seem like vicious little dogs that yap and snap. (Same scenario, different bitch, I guess! LOL)

Speaking of bitches… no, I’m not going to go there.

My mother got out of the hospital. My sister picked her up – at the same time that she received a frantic phone call from my nephew, who had just concussed himself falling off his motor scooter with no helmet. Lex is 10 and likes to be the poster child for bangs and bruises. As my mother relates, the neighbors know something is going to happen every time they see him coming down the hill towards the houses. (Refer to “Jackass” Part 1.) One of the most famous brain surgeons in our state is their neighbor, so he went out to help when he fell down. I hope my sister doesn’t receive a bill for $15,000. It would have been cheaper to leave my mother in her hospital room at $800 a day. LOL.

My mom is doing a lot better. She has home visits by 2 nurses daily that give her physical therapy and much better individual care than the hospital. She sounds happy. My dad wrote to me and told me that there is little I could do to help, so it is probably better that I didn’t go back. I feel better. I was having an internal debate because I didn’t want to be a burden on my already-overburdened sister. Too many people in the house. It is a big house, but she needs her space.

By the way, Jackass parts 2 and 3 are both really really bad. I turned them both off. Terrible. I laughed my ass off (not all of it) at Part 1 (the first 5 times I saw it). I think it was because I hadn’t seen their stunts before on TV, so it was all new to me.

Happy Wednesday everybody!

Almost Ready to Burn my Victoria's Secrets' Bras

.... and not only for the right of my Kuwaiti sisters to vote, either...

Dear Victoria. Yesterday marked the 4th under wire in your $40 T-shirt bras that became possessed by Satan. This time, it was the pastel pink. Previously, they were all black, so apparently Ibleez has now crossed over the color lines. Victoria, what I want to know is this – why you can’t create a bra that won’t fall apart after washes? (Hand washes in Woollite, I might add.)

I was in Abdali with some friends – and just as we arrived, I felt that all-too-familiar under wire scratch… Why don’t I just buy other bras, you ask? Because I have yet to find one that keeps The Girls in check the way that Victoria’s Secrets’ do. (Oh - and they’re cute.) I think that I am going to box them, and send them via Fed-Ex back to Vicky with a hand-written “thank you” note for phucking up my day. I’m not going to bother washing them first, either.

I made the 100 km trek to Abdali with my friend and her husband in search of a dachshund puppy. My friend, Faisal, raises all kinds of animals (gazelle, cows, sheep, baboons, 4-legged donkeys, horses, guinea pigs, ducks, swans, chickens, pheasant, turkeys, goats, fish, and about 5 breeds of dogs). He, believe it or not, has dachshunds. So, I called him asking if he had puppies and he said he did. When we got up there, the puppies, unfortunately, were all still INSIDE the mother dogs. We have to go back after they're out and weaned. Not a happy discovery after a full work day, and a 100 km trip in a Toyota Corolla with a speed-conscious friend behind the wheel. My back still hurts today. I think that the only reason they make Toyota Corolla’s (for “normal” humans), is so that you can watch them go over cliffs for fun. Maybe it’s just me. It felt to me yesterday, like a Griswald family day trip movie or something.

I forgot to stop by the bank on the way to work yesterday, so I had approximately 300 fils to get something for lunch. I called Bunny and, in the kindness of his heart (God bless him), he brought me a quarter pounder (with NO icky fake cheese) meal from McDonald’s. What a guy. Once in a while, he just warms my heart and coming to my rescue with a bag from McDonald did it for me. You rock, Bunny Man!

I got home last night at 10:00 and Desert Dog KNEW I had been in the company of other dogs and was quite perturbed. (She always knows.) I got The Look. I have promised her that tonight – it is Mommy/Doggy quality time. We will go for our walk next to the sea and hunt cats and she’ll stop and sniff various disgusting things and all will be right with our world again.

Sending my dirty, damaged bras back to VS has reminded me of something funny from my childhood: My friend, Cyndy, and I (ok, I was the instigator at 10 years old), used to write to Kelloggs (and others) and tell them, “I found a hair in my box of cereal. What are you going to do about it?” This was in the days before bar-coding, sophisticated tracking systems or e-mail. They would usually send us coupons for another box (or other products). At 10, it was always a big deal to receive another free box of cereals (or cookies, or the other products we did the same for); which makes you kind of wonder about a company that sends responses to letters written in 10-year-old-kid handwriting. Cyndy, are you reading this? Chocolate frosting! (I’ll save that one for another day. Everyone thinks that story is hilarious – especially my 10-year old nefew!) By the way, girl, IBBSQFALDDBW.

We were always sure that Cyndy was going to be a judge on the Supreme Court someday (you go!), so I have promised her to keep all our secrets about the illegal and semi-illegal activities we partook in when we were young. (Boone’s Farm. Scott Colin’s “special” secret garden, and others.)

My mom is doing better. She is at my sister’s house today. Her only fear, she said, is being knocked over by one of my sister’s enormous dogs. I was worried for a while, but she sounds fine and happy.

I feel TERRIBLE about not going to the demonstration yesterday. I had to work. That sounds lame, but it is so true. Women’s rights is an issue that I am passionate about in Kuwait for several reasons...

My mother’s generation of women had a very difficult time (although they were able to vote). My mother was fired because she was pregnant with my sister (legal to do in Kuwait; now illegal in the States. An acquaintance, a senior executive manager at MTC told me recently, “Of course, I can’t hire her because she’s pregnant.” Major law suit material in the US.). She was passed-over for promotions because people believed that men deserved the jobs more (supposedly because they were the main source of income for families: still legal to do in Kuwait). (We weren't even allowed to call my mother at work, growing up because she wanted to be completely equal with them and give them nothing to talk about.) Men were able to quietly beat women (or children) at home and the police did very little about it (sound familiar, Kuwait?). Women were sexually harassed at work, and again, the authorities did very little about it (now illegal in the US with fines, but common in Kuwait).

I was in Washington when Rula Dashti (you go, Rula! Tell your mom I said, 'hi'!) slept in her office in a sleeping bag on the floor, at the Kuwait Reconstruction Office, working to help liberate/rebuild this country. She talked to Kuwaiti government officials who, at that time, promised that women would have their rights in “free Kuwait.” Guess what. Kuwait is still not free for most women – certainly not free to determine their own destinies on the same level with men. Kuwaiti women fought in the resistance during the occupation by Iraq; many were tortured and raped (remember Esrar Qabandi and others like her). Other Kuwaiti women worked with the Allied forces to liberate Kuwait. They became soldiers when many men were sitting on their sofas watching CNN. Kuwaiti women have earned the right to determine who their representatives in parliament will be and who will speak in voices for them. If anything, the tribal members of parliament should realize that it is in their own best interest: there are many women in the tribes who can vote, especially if they have more than one wife.

Some articles on the rally yesterday:
(I love this picture. It gives a great cross-section of the Kuwaiti female population!)http://newsimg.bbc.co.uk/media/images/40900000/jpg/_40900539_womenparl203.jpg
Arab Times: (most detail) http://www.arabtimesonline.com/arabtimes/kuwait1.asp
BBC: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/middle_east/4325207.stm
CNN: http://edition.cnn.com/2005/WORLD/meast/03/07/kuwait.women.ap/index.html

Hi. I’m Desert Girl, and I’m an Alcoholic

(Group: “Hiiiiiiii Desert Girl!) It has been 2 hours since my last drink. I ran out of tequila (Yo – thanks again, Cinedude) and I had to mix Khalua with my granola. I figure, it tastes like coffee, so it must be a breakfast drink. Petite brought it over as a gift. That was so cool of her. Got my day started.

The 99.7 Radio Babtain Nissan Jingle:

Who cares for your
And your Nissan vehicle too
Al Babtain, Al Babtain
Who’s always there with great advice to share
Al Babtain
Who helps you drive
And makes you feel that you’re alive

Okay, what the phuck IS that? When I hear this stuff I wonder several things:

• If I call Al Babtain and say, “Hi, this is Desert Girl,” will they know who I am (they are supposed to “care for me”, right?)
• If I need advise in the middle of the night, can I call them? (phone 826000). Do you think that if I write to them (corporate@babtain.com.kw) for advice – let’s say on some obscure subject – do you think they’ll write back? “Dear Al Babtain, my dog just yakked up something that looks like a fish, but it has hair. (like that nasty picture on Dire Straits of Kuwait blog) What is your advice?”
• If I call them, will they send someone out to help me drive? Maybe they can send someone who will shift while I push the clutch? After all, their motto is “Shift” isn’t it?
• They haven’t made me feel that I’m alive. Buying a car won’t do it for me (I can think of other ways, but how….) Hey – what do those Al Babtain guys look like anyways?

Somebody (you know who you are) did something incredibly kind for me yesterday. He arranged for me to pick it up anonymously and only told me that it was a surprise. This is a fellow blogger and although we’ve been corresponding, we’ve never met. I wasn’t worried (like I might be in the States) about what it was – or where I was picking it up (at a Starbucks from one of the employees). I was kindof worried that he would be there and see me having a bad hair day, at the end of a work day, in pants that make my butt look too big. It was just a really really really nice, kind thing for him to do: he got me the Miami 1996 tape that I was looking for. Now, for those of you who have been wondering if good people (okay, let’s get realistic – men) actually exist; let me just say that there are still a few out there. I hope that someone is able to do something kind for you, dude, and maybe when you least expect it or when you need it the most. It all comes around. God bless you, my anonymous angel. You did make someone very happy.

Does anybody know where I can find a 5 karat diamond? I’ve been looking everywhere…. (hey, it is worth a shot, isn’t it?)

I went out last night with SheeshaGirl, MuslimArtist, and Petite to have dinner at Ruby Tuesdays under the Balls of Kuwait (Kuwait Towers). I have a lovely view of all 3 of Kuwait’s balls (this is reminding me of Bo Jaij!). I never ever ever want to eat at Ruby Tuesday’s again. All we ate was fat and sugar. Yuk. Okay, I’ll admit it – I probably picked THE most fattening item on the menu (the ribs), but still; it didn’t have to be served with French fries AND fried onion thingys and cole slaw. The ribs were totally salty and that blue drink thing that I ordered was reminescent of a blueberry slurpee from 7-11 that turns your tongue blue and puts little sugar sweaters on all your teeth. ew.

It was nice hangin with the girls, though – even though I was almost gonna smack SheeshaGirl upside the head if she continued her ramblings about her latest man (who happens Naz – MY good buddy and friend that I hooked her up with). I don’t want to know what she thinks about the equipment. I don’t want to hear the details. I consider him one of us. He’s never had a gender to me! Why assign one now? Damn. He’s always been Bunny’s Boyfriend to me (they are teezain fi serwal and get along really well – even with a rather large age gap). MuslimA, you are going to hurt yourself, honey, if you keep rolling your eyes like that. It’s not healthy.
Why is it that whenever we girls go out, we always seem to end up at a restaurant full of women? Do I have to tell you how bad that sucks? Where are the men? Would someone please tell me!

What tha fuuuuuuu????

“Women's Cultural Society will file a case against MP Dr Waleed Al-Tabtabaei for his recent statement in which he said, "supporters of the draft law on women's political rights are encouraging homosexuals and illegitimate children," says Al-Seyassah.Sources say the Women's Cultural Society considers the MP's statement "vulgar and offensive," and an attempt at intellectual terrorism. The Society resents the MP's attempt to misuse the Parliamentary immunity to insult others, they add.”

Go Women’s Cultural Society! I find W. Tabtabaei vulgar and offensive – not just his statements. Encouraging homosexuals and illegitimate children? What tha fuuuuuuu???? Perhaps dude needs to take a closer look at his own back yard.

I’ve talked to several of my female Kuwaiti friends. We would all like to attend the demonstration outside the Parliament tomorrow, however, we are all working professionals. The consensus seems to be that the only women who will have time to attend the demonstration are housewives – and they are the ones least likely to attend. I hope that more women will take the time from their schedules to show their support.

- And now, for something completely different.

I saw a show on one of the Brit channels on positive parenting the other day. My world has nothing to do with children, or how to parent them or any of that motherly crap, and yet, I believe that I found it useful. Consider this – could the same techniques be used for dealing with men?

The child psychologist teaches praise over punishment. You constantly bombard the child (man) with positive reinforcement and when he is naughty, you completely ignore them (not even looking at them). I believe that I can use this.

I’ve read books on the subject of training dogs and found it useful for the male species: treats for good a task done well, etc. I’ve actually applied it in real life and found that it works. (They never had a clue!)

The only thing that I don’t think will work about the positive parenting was the use of a sticker poster. I could use it, but I don’t believe that it is something I could actually show a man. You see, if the child is good, you put a sticker on the calendar poster. If he is bad, he gets a frowny face. If he is REALLY bad, he gets an X. I can think of other things to use in the place of stickers and frowny faces and perhaps even X’s.

Other random thoughts: If I don’t take my clothes to the cleaners soon, I will have to go to work neked. Oh wait! I have an abaya. I could always wear my PJs and an abaya. I don’t think that would go over too well with management. It would have – where I used to work – but not anymore. Too many ajaaneb here.

Did you ever wake up in the morning and think to yourself, ‘Damn. I don’t have any clean clothes and my house, dog, and cars are also in need of a wash?’ Then, did you ever hit the snooze bar for 15 more minutes and forget the whole thing till “later”? Hey – I’m clean. I took a shower. My world may be decaying around me, but I still bathe and my hair looks good. There is a reason why I don’t have children. They would be dirty, snot-nosed, unkempt little rug rats. God has a reason for everything.

I blame it all on the construction workers outside my building. If it wasn’t for them: My dog wouldn’t have to walk through dirt/mud to get in/out of our building. My car would be close enough for the hariss to wash (I haven’t even seen one of the cars in like a week). I could easily bring the bags of dirty clothes downstairs to the car if not for the construction. (Ok, I have no excuse for my apartment, but today is Maid Day, so that one is covered.) It is ALL the construction workers’ fault! When are they going away? Why is it just our building? Why can’t they do this outside the Parliament building or Bayan Palace? Don’t you think they would finish in about 2.5 seconds if that were the case?

My building looks like a slum and that makes me Ghetto Desert Girl. When will it end? Why ME?

42 Days till My Birthday and Counting...

This post has nothing whatsoever to do with my birthday, but I'm just reminding people.

I had another nice weekend with good friends and food – and unfortunately another crummy head cold. Where the hell am I getting colds and flus and almost-pneumonia? I’m not kissing anyone and IF I were, I wouldn’t be complaining about being sick as much because then, perhaps, it would be worth it (depending on the kiss, duration, etc.)

I feel very very very guilty about not being in the States for my mothers operation. It went well, but she doesn’t respond well to anesthesia (makes her very nauseous) and she had some serious pain yesterday. My sister and brother-in-law are there with her, but I’m her best friend. I should be there. But I’m not and I feel guilty. There are times when I really feel guilty for living here in Kuwait, so far away from my family; especially since my mom and dad are getting older. I know everyone has to live there own life and I love Kuwait, but I wonder if I am being selfish.

(Heavy sigh….)

For the sake of consistency (and cause I like it better), I am changing L to "SheeshaGirl".

Wednesday night, we ended up at the Hilton for their barbecue night. It only took 2 weeks and something like 14 phone calls to confirm our reservations. I know I have a relatively feminine voice – how is it then that the Filipina waitresses call me “Mr.” all the time? What is UP with that? I know that their staff can’t be that stupid. They have to be messin with me. Anyhoo, went with MuslimArtist, SheeshaGirl, Naz, Bunny (yeah, believe it or not), and my friend, Hisham showed up late and had coffee with us. I have to say – the food was fantastic. The Mongolian barbecue was the BEST. Thank God, Teatro didn’t kill the meat beyond all recognition; their meats usually taste like leather, but this time, all the food was perfect. It is 8.5kd, but they get you on the drinks and sheesha. Anyways, it was still a good price because they had all kinds of different food stations. The deserts were also wonderful.

Thursday, we went to Mohammed’s farm in Kabd. Desert Dog had a blast – running around and chasing rocks I threw for her to fetch (I didn’t have a ball). (She gave actually picking them up after the first one – her momma didn’t raise no stupid dog). Again, we had barbecue and everything was great. Thankfully, we had some Kuwaiti boys with us who knew how to barbecue the right way. SheeshaGirl was going on and on about how we were lucky to have Hussein with us because he is from a big family and whose dad is a MP, so incase there were any checkpoints, he could get us through (as if I, as a blonde, would ever have a problem at a Kuwaiti checkpoint!). SheeshaGirl tends to be a name-dropper. Gotta love her, but she is. Anyhoo, we were on the way back (at 2:30 am) and 2 things happened:

First, I saw a gorgeous guy in a white Range Rover right next to us in the line leading up to the road block. I was checkin him out, he was checkin me out. Could this be The Prince…. Then he noticed CineDude in the back seat and looked at me like, “Who’s that guy????” and then SheeshaGirl says something like, “What the phuck is that guy looking at?” and I’m like, “Hopefully, me.” And then… the unthinkable happened…. The cops waved him through and the car in front of us got stopped. I lost my prince!!!! DAMN. Foiled again, Batman. That could have been my last chance at happiness, at a relationship, at love and marriage and children (it is always almost the last chance, isn’t it?).

In 1989, a stupid guy asked me to marry him. He was tall and handsome and charming (and wanted to use my car to “look” for a job while I was at work – as if). My dad thought that he looked like JFK Jr. Anyhoo, my mother says to me, “This might be your last marriage proposal.” Mais bien sur, it wasn’t, but for some reason, I always remember her saying that. He married someone else for the green card and is now down in Dubai swindling sheikhs – still with no gainful employment.

(And now, back to our story.) Why did the car in front of us get stopped? It happened to be our friends, Mr. Son of an MP, and his friend. And guess what happened! Hussein got arrested. Not stopped. Not at ticket. They took his butt to the police station. “Big family… no problem with checkpoints….” I told SheeshaGirl it was all her fault (it was – she jinxed the poor guy). Turns out that it was actually (really honest) a mistake. But anyhoo, then the poor guy gets back to his car and his transmission went out. By that point, the checkpoint wasn’t there anymore and, of course, who is going to stop for someone by the road that late at night/early in the morning in Kabd? I don’t know why he didn’t just call us. They were stuck out there till 7:30 in the morning.

We were supposed to go to Mutlaa yesterday for a sunset-over-the-bay picnic. MArtist and I went out and bought all kinds of desert picnic equipment and then the weather was crap yesterday, so we cancelled. Getting all the friends together to do something is really a pain in the butt. 400 phone calls and SMSs were driving me nutty. “Where is Mutlaa?” Look at a map. “What should I bring?” Food. You know – these kind of stupid questions. Then, you get the Kuwaiti questions: “Who’s going? Where are they from? What family are they from? What religious sect are they from? Inside or outside the gate? Bedu or hather? What is their family’s net annual income? What type of assets do they own? Where were they educated?” It is YES or NO, dumbass! Who cares! Ok, I can kind of understand the first 3 Kuwaiti questions – IF the person inquiring is a female Kuwaiti, but many times – these are stupid guy questions. Ok, and then there are the people who consistently say, “Not this time.” Or “I’ll pass this time” (I HATE that one) and then have the nerve to say, “But please keep calling for next time.” Listen up, dumbasses – why don’t YOU call me next time to invite me somewhere? I’m not going to call you and invite you if you just want to see what I’m doing and if you have nothing better to do, you might come with us. Thanks, but no thanks. One of my friends sent me an SMS this weekend, “Call me if you are going to breakfast tomorrow.” I replied with, 'Why? So you can reject me and humiliate me again? Thank you for your message.' Peoples got some nerve, don’t they?

So, since we didn’t go – MArtist, SheeshaGirl, and I went to eat machboos laham at Shatea Al Watea downtown. It was ok (although I couldn’t taste very much because of my cold). Then, we went outside so that SheeshaGirl could get her sheesha fix and we could check out the hailag dating shenanigans. And, my God, what shenanigans there were. There was a group of women close to us who we thought were lesbian ho's. I don’t know how to better describe them. They were very pretty, but paid too much attention to us and were very loud. (MArtist thinks that lesbians would look more butch – ha ha ha ha ha ha. Not in this country.) At one point, one of them shouts out, “Yeah, baby” with lots of giggles. That is kind of an attention-getter. There were also all kinds of stealthy comings and goings of various couples. This was in the middle of a big windstorm, by the way.

Definitely Not Future Husband And Father Of My Children didn’t call back: not that I wanted to talk to him or even continue messing with him, but I just wanted to see him desperately calling me, so that I would feel all warm and fuzzy inside. But he didn’t. No fun there.

OH! Major Desert Girl faux pas this weekend! I complain about other people being stupid, but I really take the cake (so to speak): One of my X’s got married about a year ago. Good for him because he’s a loser and I didn’t like him anyways. (He called me 4 days before his wedding, desiring a booty call – ICK!) I don’t know anything about who he married. I’m guessing it is someone “traditional” (in other words - SHE wouldn't be up for a booty call 4 days before their wedding). I forwarded him an SMS that I received: When u feel that nobody loves you; nobody cares for you; everyone is ignoring you; You start to ask yourself…. ‘Am I a Syrian?’ I get this message back, “Thank you for your message. I am (Flan’s) wife and I’m Syrian.” OOOOOOOOOPPPPPS! Desert Girl moment!

Trashional vs. National Dress & Other Stuff

I took Desert Dog for a very enjoyable walk in front of the Scientific Center. There are 2 handsome guys who I have been seeing for the past 2 years there who actually stop, smile, and stare at me, but who never talk. Again, (Kuwaiti Chopper Dude), I am wondering if they are smiling WITH me or AT me; and if it is WITH me, then why they no speak? I mean, I am always friendly: I smile back and I say hello once in a while. I’ve made other walking buddies (like the older, Saudi running man who stops to talk to my dog). Why don’t handsome dudes SPEAK? Maybe they have girlie voices. Maybe I had something green in between my teeth. Maybe I had a booger. Whaaaaaaaaa?

There was a little boy in a stroller last night – I guess he was about 3. He says to his mommy, “Look at the doggie! It eats the cats!” Well, little dude, not true. My dog is truly lazy these days and doesn’t even bother to chase the cats that are fair game (running). (I don’t know where she gets this): The only time she actually runs is if a cute guy (not woman) is calling her. Huh. Go figure. I try to get her to chase cats (especially if my cat-loving friend is along just to piss her off). She is too respectable for all that now. Pathetic.

I went to Palm Palace and Latino Café (where there ARE no Latinos - not even Latino music!) last night. First, Palm Palace was cool. They got new tiles for the outside seating. Yummy chicken livers with pomegranate sauce. I noticed that one of my x’s is STILL going there! It has been 9 years since I got there and I STILL see him there (with different ladies). Last night, he was with one who didn’t look too great (ego boost) and he gave me a very approving look. I know – I’m very very bad, but still… (ego boost). Don’t worry! I’m not going to call him; He’s a pain in the butt. He also has something like .0001% integrity, which I just can’t tolerate. Latino Café is in a nice location, no Latinos, and relatively strange villagers. It actually looks like a pseudo-village - just not a Latino village.

I think I want to try that Jungle place next to it another time and maybe go back to Baalbek Palace because I haven’t been there in years. After many nights with L insistent on going to Marina Crescent, I have decided to seek out the unbeaten path. In other words, I am tired of latest-fashion-wearing-beeny-bopper-chickenhead-boys and surly/bored faced-too-much-makeup-tidewater jeans- stilettos-wearing-girls ("trashional dress") places. Let’s get back to basics, shall we? Gimme a man in a dishtasha, flickin a mizpah! Yeah baby. I didn’t come to Kuwait to watch a music video!

OH! I had a despicable conversation with DEFINITELY-No-Longer-Future-Husband-and-Father-of-my-Children last night. I wasn’t even going to answer the phone at all, but then I decided that I was bored and wanted to mess with him, but it BACKFIRED – he messed with ME! Imagine that! Damn! He said that, “All women, everywhere in the world are alike. (What a bitch!) You all want us to call you in the morning and the evening; to see how your day is and to show you we care. All those phone calls – that’s why I don’t want to get married.” HUH!? He went on to say that since we are “just friends” that I don’t warrant that type of attention anyway. (Oh no he di'in't!) Ya know what – I have enough friends who genuinely care about me; who take the time out of their day to see how I am (rather than going for days without a word or even an SMS). I don’t need someone who doesn’t give a damn. Who’d want him? I told him that since we are “just friends,” he shouldn’t mind that I never said that I would see him exclusively and that I plan to meet/date men (LOTS of men) who do care about me. ADI-phucking-OS!

N-E-X-T!

I hope the weather is nice this weekend. Goin to Kabd tomorrow for a barbecue at a friend’s farm. Goin to Mutlaa on Friday for a sunset-over-the-bay barbecue. All in the company of good friends and dog.

Perhaps while I’m out there, scampering across the sands, I will meet my prince; in a dishtasha, clickin a mizpah, on a white horse (Range Rover). He’ll say (with an incredibly sexy accent), “Desert Girl, take these flowers I picked because you are simply adorable. Would you like to go to a romantic dinner at Ricardo with me, so I can get to know you? By the way, I really like your dog.” And he will be single and he won’t have any weird hang-ups. Yeah…..

Scary!

I was checking out Dire Straits of Kuwait, at http://q8gal.blogspot.com/ . She discussed some not-nice incidents (scary) that took place over National Day/Liberation day. I related the following comments, which I am repeating here as they may be useful to people who have problems:

There was nowhere near the police presence there should have been during the national/liberation day holiday. There were lots of policemen, but not enough. They couldn’t handle the crowds and perhaps proper crowd-control measures should be put in place for the next go-around. When Alawi of Iraq visited Kuwait, at least the civil defense was on alert and the MOI helicopters hovered above Marina Mall, where he was visiting. I saw NO helicopters on N/L day holiday at all. There were police mobile stations and then pockets of roaming groups of “bad boys” intent at causing problems for people, rather than celebrating with the happy people.

The police regularly tell me that there is "nothing they can do”(even when I have been flashed by drugged-up perverts and had my car rammed by idiots wanting me to take their numbers!) because I complain if something happens. When the hyped-up druggy/pervert/potential-rapist left (after running from his car after me with his pants down into the lobby of my building), I called the police and they actually told me to go back into the street to wait for the police to arrive (or the guy to finish the job!)

There is, however, something that people can do when they are told this: take the officer's name, note the time and the police station; and on the next business day, call the Ministry of Interior 243-0500, ask for Sheikh Nawaf's (the Minister’s) office, and report the officer. If the person answering doesn’t speak English – ask for their fax number. You can tell the officer your plans and it actually gets results. Sheikh Nawaf takes these issues very seriously and the officers will be reprimanded. (The Diwan of the Crowne Prince and Prime Minister's number is 80 00 00.)

Then, call or write reporters from the local newspapers and tell them what happened.

If no one voices their objection to these callous acts by lazy individuals, nothing will be done.

Asho, Asho. Asho Walah Asho....

Yo - where is February 29? Why do I have to pay rent already?

Did anyone get a copy of Kuwait Life magazine, February issue? There is an article on Kuwaiti blogs. Of course, mine is not mentioned, but there are many cleaver quotes. There is also an interesting account of the occupation as remembered by one of my favorite authors. If you are interested in either, send me an e-mail and I’ll send you a copy (amerab@gmail.com).

I can’t find my Miami 1996 tape. Does anyone know where I can get one? Virgin has every single Miami tape since 1994, but not 96. That is my favorite: the one with Asho on it (now, it'll be stuck in my head all day), but I actually prefer some of the other songs – they are so cool to listen to on a boat (no, not the 1kd boat). I guess I have to drive around like an idiot till I find one. I went to a few stores and I always get that look and the guy says, “That’s old.” Well yeah, no duuuuh. The nice guys at the music shop down the street aren’t there anymore or I would ask them. They would find it for me!

I love our coffee guys at work. Just when I need them – they appear. Kudos to coffee guys. I know it sounds extremely lazy to Westerners out there that we don’t get up and make our own damn coffee, but that is the coffee guys’ job – to get coffee. They don’t even let me near the kitchen to make it myself. Therefore, I cannot feel guilty, now can I? We are so spoiled in Kuwait. How could I ever go back to the way it was before?

Ok, at least at my sister’s house in the US, she has maid day too (mine is Sunday – hers is Wednesday). Her maids come in a team of 4 (big house) and she has to lock her big dogs up. My maid is mainly delegated to do the things that I HATE (dishes, floors, and folding clothes). I can do pretty much everything else (but I don’t).

I love being able to call the guys at the baqala down the street and having them bring me stuff that I need to make dinner (or whatever). In the States, it would cost a fortune: minimum wage, plus gas, plus insurance for both the employee and the car, plus taxes, plus surcharges for heavy lifting, plus mileage, etc. etc.

My mother is having her hip replaced tomorrow. My family insists that I don’t need to go back. I’m feeling like I should be on a plane right now. I’m outa here if they call me.

L finally got some last night. Whew. I think that a Prozac probably would have had the same affect, but the alternative was probably more enjoyable. Enough said about that.

I want to go back to the desert this weekend. I’m thinkin picnic in Mutlaa at sunset. It is gorgeous up there with the light on the rocks. Maybe I’ll roast an onion up there and catch a dhub. Tee hee. I can see the look on MuslimArtist’s face now.

When we went out on “our boat” (1kd pontoon boat) the other day, my friend, Wahabi, who owns several yachts caught me out on it. That was like THE embarrassing moment of this year so far. I only noticed him because I was checking out his handsome friend, standing on the dock. I’ve known Wahabi for years, but he and his brother did something to royally piss me off, so I haven’t talked to them since the 1st week of Ramadan. [My wallet was stolen from my car and I had NO ID, NO ATM cards, NO credit cards, and NO money. I asked to BORROW (as in 'not keep') some money and they wouldn’t answer their phone. Mu Kuwaiteen? You know your friends when you need them.] Anyways, they were my Kubbar buddies. Wahabi has this compulsion to remove his swimming trunks and moon everyone around. Now, if he had a nice butt, that would be great, but it is NASTY. We spent the night out on the boat one time and I woke up in the morning to see him walking neked around Kubbar with his trunks on his head. Ayeb. Feshla. Ow badein - Macu faydeh.

I know everyone will want to hear about this: In their endeavors to rip up everything in Salmiya, the construction dudes tore through water pipes to my building the other night. Yesterday morning, I washed in bottled water. Now, that’s just adding insult to injury. I already have to tippy-toe across the mud puddles and ick to get to my car (which I have to park in the mud flats across the street). I have to put up with numerous men who can’t use walkies or phones for communication, but rather shout, “M’HAMAAAAD!!!” (the dude’s name is ALWAYS Mohammed. I don’t know why.) I have to put up with that thumping machine that they use and that drilling thingy. But then – no water. That is so frickin STU-PID. Every morning, I go out there to the guy who looks most likely to be “manager in charge” and say, “Lesh? Lesh?” Yesterday, it was, “Lesh mafi my?” They just laugh at me (crazy foreigner!)

Ok, I have nothing more to complain about today. Latah.