Underwear is just no good in humidity

I hate this. I was in DC – swamp land – and it wasn’t this humid. What the heck is going on? I can’t remember a time in Kuwait when it was this humid for this long. It sucks. I don’t want to go outside. My life is a terminal bad hair day. It just isn’t the look I’m going for: runny make-up, crazy hair, and underwear that is so connected to my skin that I have to peel it off at the end of the day. NOT a pretty picture.

I have no reason to be awake during the daytime hours on the weekend, so I slept through most of it; watching TV all night and going to sleep during the wee hours of the morning. There is no reason for me to go outside, really: My credit cards are maxed from my trip (SHOES!!!!), so shopping is a no-go. I can’t drink water (Ramadan) and it is too hot/humid not to. I have to take constant hits off my asthma inhaler cause it is so humid and I need water for that too. Hunting for mens is no good either because if they were smart, they would be at home. No need to scrape the barrel. Alas, I am a shut-in AND my AC isn’t working AND they are going to tear my building down, so they won’t do any maintenance and I’m dying. Pity party: u come ovah.

Why did I come back? Oh yeah….

Bunny brought me a hubungous bouquet of pink roses last night. I LOVE pink roses. He knows that. He so adoreable. I love you, Bunny. You tha MAN.

I went with The Romanian to Bu Merdas’ in Kabd on Thursday night. I have been missing Kabd. It was just us, his brother, and his best friend. He ordered so much food that I didn’t know if I could move to get home. His brother is keeping his rottweiler at the farm. I can usually make friends with most dogs, but this one is like Kujo with red eyes. I’m pretty sure Bu Merdas told him bad stuff about me before I got there. My dad used to do this trick to win over the hearts and minds of my sisters dogs: he put bacon in a baggy in his trouser pockets. I might try that (beef bacon) but then Kujo might bite my ass off. Not sure. That might be a blessing in disguise. Anyhoo, Bu is also watching 2 puppies for one of his friends. He has him in a pen with a surrogate mother; a 1-eyed rooster. Now, one would think that a 1-eyed cock (go ahead – make my day) might not make a great den mother, but this one is doing very well at it. Go figure. (No, I’m not making this shit up.)

I learned something about Bu Merdas that I wasn’t aware of before and that I can definitely use as ammunition: He loses it when he sees people cry. I can do that. It might be fun. I don’t get much of a reaction any other way; other than negatively by pissing him off (but hey – as we girls know – at least THAT is a reaction, right?). I’m not easily intimidated, but he really is scary when he’s mad. He’s not violent or anything; just tall and big (like a linebacker) and has a deep voice and I feel like a 5-year old about to get spanked (and NOT in a good way). Crying may be the answer. I can do it if I think of sad TV commercials (usually the only thing that makes me cry - or anything on the Hallmark channel.) ‘You don’t love me (sniffle, whimper, lots of tears). You never bring me kanafa (sniffle). Why don’t you care about me?’ Tee hee. Why don't men just communicate their feelings and then women wouldn't be forced do use such deceptive tactics. I mean - do you think I ENJOY this? (Well, okay, maybe just a little....)