I’ve been busted – by Bunny. He has found the blog. The Universe (phuckin with me again) is chippin away at my anonymity. Have I no secrets? Can I do nothing without getting caught? Being the Amazing Bunny, he is taking it all in stride – as usual. I’m not sayin this just because he is reading this or because I got busted, but in all honesty, he is one of the kindest people I have ever met. He is also my X-boyfriend Role Model. I mean, how many relationships end and then you become absolute tell-all best friends with your X? I can tell him anything and he is completely non-judgmental and gives me good advice. I LOVE that. It is better than having a best girlfriend to talk to because he lets me see things from a dude perspective. Oh, plus I have free reign on all my sexual innuendos and he laughs at my stupid jokes. Very cool indeed.
Speaking of bunnies, I went to see that movie House Bunny with my 2 sisters when I was in the States. It looked so stupid that it had to be good – and it was. I also went to see Step-Brothers which was also as intellectually stimulating. Ok, not, but it was good for a laugh. I can’t stretch my brain too far when I go back to the States. I might get overload after having it non-functional for all those months while here in Kuwait. Tee hee.
Along the lines of non-intellectual stimulation: I went to a tarot card reader in Virginia with The Romanian. Ron (the fortune teller dude) also reads palms and analyzes handwriting. He was particularly accurate in some of the more physical aspects of my nature. (Blush, I do not.) He made The Romanian laugh when he said, “I wouldn’t want to be in the car when she is driving….” Ah so true. Well, according to Ron, I am supposed to meet some guy and “fall in love like a teenager”. Truth be told, I do that every time because I’m emotionally stunted. He also told me to be sure not to “disregard him as you usually do with men.” Otay. That is true. I must fess up. I have probably met a lot of The One’s, but I don’t take the time to get to know them unless they stalk me or are rude, mean, or arrogant (we love the bad boys, don’t we). On reflection, I almost blew off Bunny, The Man, and (I probably should have blown off) Bu Merdas.
Oh, I got a very stupid comment that I chose not to publish saying something along the lines of “if you didn’t blow off guys then one of them might stick around”. Obviously, commentator took “blow off” in the oral sense of the word. Dude, let me clarify by saying “blow off” means (to me) to disregard, disassociate, get rid of or otherwise just plain not pay any attention to. It doesn’t mean the other. Plus, we (in my circles) don’t normally use “blow” with “off”. According to sex-lexis.com (the legal search engine for sexual terms; which I occasionally need to refer to after discussions with my 14-year-old nephew): “To leave one's lover without an explanation or goodbye note”. In my case, dude never achieves lover status. In all fairness, they do use “blow off” in several other dainty ways, so ok, ergo my clarification as to the term that I (me, myself, Girl de Desert) use throughout this here blog. Get it?
Ah, life is all about perspectives. Isn’t it wonderful?
I don’t have good fingernails. (I thought I would throw that out there.) My mother says that it is due to weak fingernail genes from our Finnish side of the family (gee thanks, Finns; …although I can drink vodka like a mofo). Why couldn’t we have any African-American ancestors with great nails and teeth? I have broken 2 nails this past week and I am hanging onto them with nail glue just so I don’t have to cut them all down. (No, I don’t have anything better to talk about!!!!) Yesterday, our CEO comes in and introduces me to a new corporate-level executive and I had just glued one of them back on. I was afraid to stick to him, so I had to shake with the other hand. Yes, I did tell him. It hurt – what should I have done? Lied and gotten stuck? Not shook at all? Pulled out some religious reason? Tee hee. So not my style.
Just skimmed the Arab Times. They have a story titled “Kuwaiti boy scouts win awards” with photos of a couple of guys wearing boy scout uniforms, pinning stuff on other dudes. The photo caption is “Some of the Kuwait delegation members being decorated”. Ok, if you have seen the photo – the dudes wearing the scout uniforms are both in their 30’s and sporting beards. I mean – what is the cut-off age for boy scouts in Kuwait? Michael Jackson age, perhapsee? Inquiring minds need to know.
Speaking of Michael Jackson age and still preferring the company of boys (albeit boy/men in the diwaniya…), Bu Merdas has been really really nice to me since I got back (“Do you need anything, habibti? Can I bring you dinner?”… who ARE you??). I do love a man who offers me food. I gave it a week. Until, of course, he had to snap. Let you in on something: You can’t be with me and not be with me at the same time. Either stop asking me questions about where I am constantly, being jealous constantly and pulling the same old passive-agressive BS; OR get serious about a relationshit. It isn’t a 1-sided deal. God forbid I should ask questions! OMG. I don’t find the possessiveness quaint and endearing … unless, bien sur, (that thar is Francois) it is all part of moving towards something bigger. Since it is not, drop it. (OMG – what happens if HE ever finds the blog. I’ll cross that bridge later-like.)
Can I ask y'alls something? What is it in the Kuwaiti culture that makes airport dropping off and picking up such a major deal? For example, I may not have seen someone for eight months, but they know I am leaving on vacation, so they ab-so-lutely must take me to the airport to see me off, then must pick me back up on return? Do you think that this necessity has found its roots in the history of Kuwait when the pearl divers went off for months and everyone went out to bid them farewell; then out again to greet them on a safe return? I'm just wondering because seriously - it is a big deal here. I might be starving to death (y'anee mithilin) for the rest of the year and no one would offer to bring me a banana (tee hee), and then they HAD TO drop me off at the airport. What IS that? Can anyone explain this to me?