I haven't been able to blog (for your information, MuslimArtist) because I am workin like a dawg all day (one of the partners is in town) and I'm so sleepy when I get home that I don’t even want to watch dirty movies anymore. I just go to sleep. That is so pathetic and lame.
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!