Here's what I want to know: What tha fuuuuuu am I doing here? I remember getting on a plane, saying goodbye to my family and friends, buying some crap at the airport … then landing here in some kind of a daze like 17 hours later.
I vaguely recall a Kuwaiti woman sitting next to me talking non-stop from Paris to Kuwait while drinking both red wine and bloody marys until I just gave up and fell asleep while she was still in mid-sentence. (We are sisters-in-sin now. I love making new friends.)
Bunny, Bobarino, and fish girl showed up to greet me at the airport. My friend, AK, from customs also showed up out of nowhere, which I thought was pretty cool – right at the appropriate time. No sweating was necessary. At the airport – either arriving or departing – seems like the only time I get to see Bunny anymore. Probably because it is a nostalgic occurrence for him since we fell in love after a rather long time apart and had a heated homecoming (I digress). Naz, the new Mrs. Naz (that's a whole 'nother story) met me at my place with an enormous bouquet of flowers and cake (that is SO cool and I will have to remember to do that for someone sometime).
I looked around my apartment (covered in dust), and thought, "What tha fuuuuuuu?". Where is the wide screen? Where are the big dogs? Where tha fuuuu is the wine? What tha fuuuu is that smell? (Kuwait, actually.) What the hell is that noise (Kuwait construction).
Desert Dawg arrived about an hour later and I was shocked at her condition. She stays with a very nice Indian family who usually takes amazing care of her. I don't know what happened this time, but her fur was completely matted to the point where I actually took out my sharpest scissors and got to work even before I could make a grooming appointment for her. She couldn't move her neck because the snarls were so bad. I almost cried.
I couldn't sleep much that night. I called my family. I puttered around the apartment like a ghost. I watched the sun rise (which, if any of you REALLY know me – you know is a miracle because usually even a nuclear blast can't wake me up that early).
I made an appointment for Desert Dawg the next morning to get groomed at IVH. It is a long trip down there from Salmiya. Guess what wasn't working in my car? The frickin air conditioning! (I sold the discovery to an Indian friend for 300kd after the last time the head gasket blew – making that particular repair a third-time-you're-out offense). It was a long, hot drive down there. Desert Dawg got shorn like a sheep (and looked kindof like one too). She's much happier.
This past weekend was kind-of a blur for me. You can probably glean more details about if from reading MuslimArtist's blog. Wednesday night, we went to Sakura. I invited the girl from the plane (Planegirl). Brazillian and Farmboy were next door at Nokatha with Sheeshagirl and their Brazillian friends. Sheeshagirl and I have had a falling out of sorts (she LIES!!!) and so I hadn't seen her/talked to her in months of a long time. After a lot of sushi and laughing, we moved over to Nokatha (thank God – private rooms in both places to avoid the inevitable embarrassment) and had coffee and cake remains.
I don't know why I just don't rent a permanent room at the Crowne Plaza because I'm there all the time anyways.
Don't ask me what happened on Thursday because I don't remember anything. Total blank. Oh yeah – I slept all day. That's why.
Friday, we were all back at Sakura (thank God for the discount card), eating sushi buffet. Planegirl, Romaniangirl, and I stayed at the CP for 7 whole entire hours. Bobarino left at around 5. Planegirl, I discovered, is very princessy. She complained about everything. She sent food/drinks back. She also did one thing that I absolutely hate – squibbled over the bill. She wanted the waiter to explain every little thing. Oh – that is one of my worse fears. It is food. Pay the frickin bill and don't make us look cheap. I HATE that. I mustav gotten that from my father. Anyways, Planegirl is very nice, but the nit-picky side of her is irking me too soon in our friendship. When did I get so picky? No, screw that: why can't I have normal friends – is more like it.
Last night, some of us went out for coffee and it was very nice. My excuse for going out to eat so much is that Ramadan is coming and everybody will be busy then. Well, not the foreigners, but our Kuwaiti friends. Good excuse, though. I like it.
All the guys (you know who you are) who were calling me while I was in the US, sending me e-mails, telling me how much they missed me…. Have DISAPPEARED now that I'm back in Kuwait. What tha fuuuuuuuuuuuu?? What IS it about Kuwait? One guy has been practically begging to see me; pouring his soul out to me through e-mails – and NOW, dude is too busy to even talk to me on the phone. He is typical of the man Lulu Al-Bader describes in her article in this month's Bazaar, titled, "Please Impress Me". E-mail dude represents Lulu's Pigeonhole #4: The Workaholic Poser – a Walking Contradiction. I frickin LOVED her article. You go, girl!