The Key to All Happiness...

(Besides what I was doing for 5 hours on Friday night... yummmmm )

Seafood is the Key to Happiness.... I went with the crazy Kuwaiti girlfriends and The Romanian to Housny this weekend. I love that place. They have the best shrimp in Kuwait; the seafood is amazing and at lower prices than almost every other seafood restaurant in Kuwait. They also have sheesha for all the sheesh-heads out there. They are directly across the street from the Ministry of Communications (tower building) in Hawalli, upstairs from Centre Point. If I could eat crabs and drink tequila at the same time…. Well, I would be a lot friendlier. Life would be ideal.

Bu Merdas (Mashallah, Mashallah, Mashallah)… sigh… He says that I have hot eyes, so I am constantly saying Mashallah – and God forbid if I don’t. I’m superstitious too, but he is just worse. You know what’s great – he hates computers. That works as a blessing because he will never find my blog! LOL. I don’t think any of his friends are really that much into computers either. Most of the time, he is up working on his place in Kabd (Mashallah, Mashallah, Mashallah) or doing things for his family.

I was with him this weekend when the girls were up in Kabd at their friends’ place having fresh machboos and listening to the guys play oud and drums. Damn! I love that kind of stuff. I’ll go the next time. It was worth missing this time, however. I turned my phone off after the 4th time the bitches called me (trying to interrupt my groove) by begging me to go to them. The day-after voice messages were hysterical (I’m saving them as evidence): "Pizza, Pizza! Yalla taaaaaaleeeeee ya mara. I had 3 glasses... Hickey had 4 glassess... yal-laaaaaaa!
Erguseeeeeee." Tee hee.

Sheikha Minor and Hickey (don’t ask me how she got that name, but that is her nickname) can party for days on end. The Romanian is only good for about 1 night before she crashes. Me, I don’t even last that long: I have a few drinks, get a headache, and can fall asleep anywhere.

It scares Bu Merdas because I will be having a conversation with him at night and I suddenly fall asleep on his shoulder. He kept waking me up one night, thinking that I was dead or dying. I giggle. Men are funny creatures, aren’t they? I might call him (y'anee mithilin) and tell him that I fell down and have a gushing bloody head wound and he'd say something like, "Ok baby. I'm in the diwaniya. I'll call you later," but if I fall asleep while he's talking - he's all worried about me like I'm gonna die? What's THAT? Oh, ok... I get it.... maybe he thinks he's responsible...

Sheikha Major has disappeared. We all miss her, but her family busted her for being out late and partying with her friends. It wasn’t our (girls) fault: we are generally “innocent”, but she just so happened to be out with a man (we don't know) when she got busted (again, not our fault) and it was guilt-by-association, so I think we are on her family’s shitlist now.

One of the other girls in our group has also disappeared. We heard that she got religious all of a sudden, but I find that very hard to believe given the circumstances. Oh well, people come and go. I’m sure she’ll be back around when it gets cooler and we’re out in the desert again.

There is only one girl in our group of friends that I really don’t like and that’s because she’s a freekin psycho. She’s got really wild, freaky eyes and wild hair and she dances like she's in some kind of voodoo-induced spastic spell. She has also invaded my personal space more than once (stand BACK when you talk to me - no need to get allupinmyface!) The Romanian is constantly warning me that she’s a witch and that I should stay away from her(possibly because witch-chick "likes" me). Hey – no problem there. I try to distance myself from psychos (unless they look like Clooney and then whogivesashit, you know? He doesn't have to talk...).

Psychic Bedu called me at 5:48 this morning, speaking of psychos. WTF!!!! I haven’t talked to him in a long time because he’s just a pathological liar. Why bother? Anyhoo, I should call him back just to ask him if he has any revelations about this month (since he did tell me that something would happen with/to/about The Man this month). He told me exactly 18 months ago that it would be this month. I can’t believe how fast time goes. Curiosity kills me: Inquiring minds want to know. Not that I care about The Man one way or another. He doesn’t even bother to say hello to me (salam min Allah, dude!) and I guess he forgot that we used to have a relationshit. Oye tha bahsterd.

And now, for something completely different…

I got a bootleg copy of “Sex and The City” movie. It is such poor quality that you can actually hear the guy-who-went-to-the-cinema with his camcorder burp during one of the scenes. I can’t see anything and the sound is so awful that I keep turning it off. Regardless, I still want to see it. I LOVE Mr. Big.

My Extremely Sexy Red Carlos Santana shoes (grrrrrr baby) are supposed to arrive this week from Shop & Ship. I can’t WAIT. I didn't even know Carlos Santana made shoes until I saw an ad for them in a fashion mag. Ok, seafood, tequila, men, and sexy shoes are the key to all happiness. There is no greater love than a sexy pair of shoes. It just makes my heart pitter-patter.





And yes, if you want to know, I wear shoes like this in the desert too. I don't care. My damn feet are GOING to look sexy!!