I wish I could post about what is happening at my job, but one never knows who is reading this stuff I write and I don’t want to put my living in jeopardy. Let’s just use the word “Enron” and you can figure it out. They literally locked the employees in one day last week. Is that even legal? I thought the term for forcibly detaining someone is “kidnapping”. I am traumatized. Heavy sigh.
One funny little diddy I can write about is an incident that happened this religious holiday weekend. We ate sushi at the Crowne Plaza (as usual) and were waiting for the car at the valet. Hoover-Moustache-Dude (you know - really skinny, but sporting an enormous moustache, so he looks like if you flip him wrong-side-up you can vacuum your floor with him) comes running out of the lobby, mumbling his phone number. I moved away. He gets closer and starts mumbling some mo'; literally, it was inaudible. It was like a whisper. I’m like, “Whaaaaaaaaa? I can’t hear you. Do you want something?” in English (angry white woman style). Followed by giggles from La Romanian and I. He moves in closer and (this is some shit), says, “Either one of you. I’ll give you 100 KD.” Oooooooooooooh – no he di-int! There, in front of a crowd of onlookers and valet parkers in the front of the hotel, I shout out, “Yala ya wasakh!” (Doesn’t literally translate to “get out of here you pig” but justabout. Direct translation is “Go you dirty person”.) Dude musta been high. He ran (sissy boy); everybody started laughing. Several of the valet parking dudes were doubled-over laughing. What kind of parents do these people have? Are all women – or maybe just all foreign women – assumed to be prostitutes? Again, I don’t dress flashy; I wore a black sweatshirt and jeans; ditto my Romanian pal. What up with the caveman mentality? Yeah buddy, Eid mubarak to you too!
Eid Al-Adha and the sacrificing of sheep: I’m sorry, but I will never ever get my head around the need to kill sheep/lambs during the holiday. I know it is meat and all that, but personally, I would never feel the need to have a fresh-killed anything. I go to the store. In my new neighborhood, I took Desert Dawg out for a walk around the block (I need to do that until my terrace is fenced and I can build an appropriate doggie-doo box). Anyhoo, we walked and I heard a strange noise that turned out to be a little lamb – the same size as Desert Dawg – all alone in a pen, crying like crazy for its mommy. Ok, many people see that and think “food group”, but not me. My immediate instinct is to hop the fence and rescue bambi-lambi and take off…. But to where? If I rescue it, it will go to a farm, right? Where they will turn around and sell it for someone else to eat. There is no salvation for sheep here. The only thing I can think of is, “Don’t worry little lamb. It will be over soon.” And then I look at Desert Dawg and think that I better had get the Hell out of there before someone thinks she is a sheep too.
More animal stories: I HATE cats. They are evil. Ok, not all of them, but I don’t like cats. I particularly HATE whatever frick-in evil neighborhood cat who must have detected Desert Dawg’s presence and decided to “mark” the territory… by continually shitting on my “Welcome” mat. I mean – WTF! The first day, I went outside in my slippers and SPLAT! It doesn’t even look like normal cat doo-doo. Maybe panther or tiger poop. What has it been eating?? (BTW – The Man calls me the “shit expert” because I can usually tell what kind of an animal it came from. I call that “common sense”, but all of a sudden I’m an expert on excrement. At least I have a specialty, right? Maybe I should put it on my resume – it is already quite obscure, so why not?) Obviously, I can no longer have a “Welcome” mat outside my apartment. That kind of shit is just soooooooo not welcome. “Welcome to the neighborhood. I made this for you….” Anyways, I’m paying very nice Metal Works Dude to come put up fences around my yard. (That’s “fences” not “feces”.) If a bird shits on you, it is supposed to be good luck, right? What about cats? I get an apartment with a huge terrace, but I can’t let my dog out until I get it properly gated (someone might think she’s a lamb). This place is costing me a shitload (ha ha) of money. Oh, I think I still have a bottle of No-Go (actual brand name). Maybe it will work for cats? Je ne sais pas. I will keep you informed.