Friday, July 22, 2005


I had a fun weekend. It is still technically the weekend, so it isn't over yet. I can't believe I had such a fun weekend because it is so frickin hot and I feel like I am gonna die every time I walk out the front door. I think I am getting a tan just crossing the front courtyard. No wonder so many ninjachicks wear gloves.

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

Karma, Flying..., and Heat

A big Kuwaiti logistics company is under investigation by the US military for possible violations on procurement/contracting laws. Tee hee tee hee (giggling with glee). Gee, I wonder what they did to deserve that. NOT! Their stocks are taking a nose-dive (tee hee!!!!). Karma, my dear friends. What goes around, comes around. Somehow, someday, some way, those who are unethical (inhumane, evil) and doing illegal things will eventually get BUSTED. Na na naaa na naaa naaaaaaaaaa.

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

Mean Companies Suck

The other day, a very good friend of mine called me, distraught about her job. I am one of those people who empathize with anyone who is being treated unfairly. She only recently started working at a small company and she has already discovered the main concern of many expats working here in Kuwait: lack of job security. Hire an expat, fire an expat, hire someone else for WAY less money. It usually happens after the Western person has been in Kuwait for about a year. Could be less – depending.

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.

Plan B!!!!

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Losing Whatever Was Left

I am so bored. I mean it. I don't know how I can make it to mid-August when I get the HELL out of here and head to Virginia. Wooo Hooooo!

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

Bricks and Chianti

According to my favorite on-line dream dictionary (
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

Another F-ed Up Weekend in Paradise

Ok, call me fickle if you will, but I've changed my mind again (I'm female – we are allowed to do that). I have my reasons….

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.