Full moon on my way to work

This morning at 6:30 am on my way to work, the full moon was still up and it was just gorgeous. Yes, sadly, I get to work in the dark and equally as sadly, I return in the dark. My life is lived through the Mushroom Management Methodology: Always in the dark and covered in shit. And yes, sadly, people do drive more like maniacs during a full moon in Kuwait. You can always tell - even on a dark, cloudy night; the hywanat are on the road.

Anyhoo, I was in an exceptionally good mood this morning and I don’t know why. Unfortunately, this usually means that the Universe is planning to phuck with me again and the rest of the day will go poorly, but … happy thoughts, Desert Girl. Why must I always be a bitter woman?

I have the “Bitter Woman” series coasters on my desk at work; slogans like “Pain was too good for him,” “She would get even,” “Then she realized: they were all alike!” “It was a shame about him…really….” And my personal favorite, “…and then I ripped his lungs out.” People at work already think I’m a nut job. I just consistently prove their point. At least they are fearful of me so I don’t have to put up with a whole lot of crap. I mean – just because they are paying my salary isn’t an invitation to be given more work, right? (Well, that’s not ‘zactly true because they haven’t paid salaries for December to most of our employees yet. Very scary stuff. I think everyone here should be on strike, but that’s just me – call me a “bitter woman” or perhaps an “angry white woman”. I could be either or both.)

You know how they say, “Be careful what you wish for?” Well, I’ve been bitchin for months about how hot it always is in my office (and no.. it is NOT menopause dumbasses - 'specially since I'm 29) and today, I am freezing my butt off. OMG – I can see my own breath. Of course now, I can’t say anything to complain about how cold it is, now can I? We have a kabab restaurant downstairs and when we first moved into this building, I would go home every day smelling like a meat stick (oooooh nooooo – don’t even go THERE). (It must be the coffee – or the moon – or the freezing climate.) My hair used to have the bkhoor of kababiness. Yuck. My dog used to chase me around the apartment. ‘I do NOT have treats!’

I haven’t seen Bunny at all and I miss him. He got pissed off at his landlady and found another apartment. Why has he always got to be copying what I do? He KNOWS that I need him to drill stuff in MY apartment… and yet he selfishly thinks of only himself and gets a whole new apartment with stuff of his own to drill. What WAS he thinkin? Well, I am in possession of our shared Black & Decker power drill. I’m not giving it back until all my shelves are up. Bunny, if you are reading this – heed my warning. He could always go and get his own drill, but I know he won’t: He knows that I Fear The Drill and will always do it for me - even if he has better stuff to do.

I just found out that other Americans live in the villa where I live (its 4 floors). She’s from South Carolina and has 2 beautiful little girls. One of them said proudly, "I'm from the United States of America!" It was so cute. (She's 4. She'll learn later that once you say that roundabouthere, someone will always start bitchin about the war in Iraq or take it as a form of come-on. Maybe not by the time she grows up, or maybe not even by the time she's 5 - let's hope so.) It is so quiet where I live that I never see my neighbors anyways. I’m scared to death of doing something wrong because the landlady lives right upstairs from me (although I am starting to grow out of that feeling). I just don’t like to bother people (where I live. Outside is ok. “Don’t poop in your own back yard” and all that.)

Why must I always be vulgar?

Desert Girl is my alter-ego just like Slim Shady to Eminem or Sasha to Beyonce. It's ok to be baaaad if you have an alter-ego, right? Perhaps I have it the other way around: Maybe it is like Clark Kent and Superman! No?