This is no day for sensible shoes

Happy Thursday everybody.

I can’t say that I have accomplished anything really this week. I’ve just been moving piles on my desk and thinking of impressive catch-phrases to put on my management report. I’m convinced that no one reads them anyways. How do I know this fer sure? Well, because I always include the line, “Just wondering, but does anyone read these reports?” somewhere within the body of the report. So far, I haven’t received any response. They’re probably too busy thinking of their own fancy catch-phrases to report to the next guy. Vicious circle.

The Chairman and The Banker: Chairman only runs after me when I ignore him, so I am now officially back to ignoring him again. He’s into the game. I know it. The Banker didn’t respond to my cute SMSs and only finally called yesterday – during working hours. Snore. I’m leavin him hangin for a while. I’ll see them both again in a few weeks so they can wait. Don’t you hate these cat and mouse games? Jeez. There’s just a whole bunch of 40-something mama’s boys running around here, shaking hands and taking pictures. Yawn. Puhleeze – impress me.

Actually, I googled the Chairman (that sounds so dirty, doesn’t it?) and I was impressed. He isn’t just the Chairman of his own company – he is Vice Chairman of a bigass bank. He’s also all over the news. Huh. Innnnnnnnteresting.

I had dinner last night at the Boom with the Special K Family. They are very nice people who I met through the blog. (The right nicknames haven’t come to me yet – they will and I will let you know. It is a psychic process – like when the names for P3 hit me.) As usual, I talk waaaaaaaaaaay too much around people I like (when I don’t like you – you’ll know because I’ll clam up). Yak yak yak yak yak. I always later feel bad – especially with people you can visibly distinguish as jetlagged. Plus, the younger crazy ones have been out playing tennis in the AFTERNOON in Kuwait. Who DOES that? Kuwait doesn’t even come to life during the summer until after 9:00 pm. (Sidebar: I discovered where the men are, by the way. My timing was off. They’re in the co-ops after 9:30 on the weekends. Holy schnap! It was like a buffet…. ) Back to my story… Only mad dogs and Englishmen (you can tell because they wear funny hats and knee socks with sandals) brave the afternoon sun. I thought Americans had more sense. Those people are hardy, rugby-playing fools. Please do NOT follow their example. Ok, so we Americans basically come from the same gene pool, but we learned the lessons of the American Indians – move your tent at night (which, bien sur is close to the Bedouin ideology). My tent isn’t going anywhere without good air conditioning. Not gonna happen.

What the HELL got me started on all this this morning? Oh, I am probably still burning off zubeidi vitamins from last night. Yummmmm.. There goes my special Blood Pressure Diet. I ran out of rice cakes anyways. Got to go stock up on more. I lived on those things for a week and I felt great. I’m feeling kindof like I shouldn’t have had the tiramisu last night right now. I’m wearing a big shirt and stretchy pants to work today for Casual Thursday. I’m making myself feel better by wearing cute underwear. I do that.

And speaking of underwear, there was a guy at The Boom last night who carved birds out of radishes (which has nothing at all to do with underwear, but obviously at this point none of my ramblings are going to make sense, so who cares?) Just wondering, but does anybody read these reports? The birds are so cool. How can people be that creative? If only I could do to a radish what I can manipulate into senseless ramblings, I would be a famous bird carver-er. Yeah. That would be me. Somebody sent me an e-mail a long time ago about a watermelon carving championship and the melons were so cool. You’ve gotta love great melons.

Oh! Here is some fascinating food and animal news for ya: Petey and Paint (the dynamic duo of the P3 trio) made themselves at home in my kitchen this morning! The little shits! Last night, I ran out of catfood and I made them chicken meatballs. Apparently, the strays don’t like my cooking (no blame there). They were meowing for the dry stuff. I didn’t feed them. Usually in the mornings, I leave my terrace door open so that Desert Dawg can run outside and do her business. This morning, DD ran under the bed – which she usually only does if she has done something bad and been caught; or if she is afraid of something. I kept asking her what her problem was. No silly people, she doesn’t answer, but she does usually come and sit next to me, staring at me until telepathically, she gets her message across. This morning, she didn’t even do that. I said goodbye and walked across the apartment to go to my car. That’s when I saw P&P, chowin’ down – IN my kitchen - on DOGFOOD! They got the hose. Balls, I tell ya. I know – they are going to think that they own the place and already DD is frightened. I’m going to have to start moving their food out to the trash cans on the corner. I don’t know what they’ll do when I go on vacation.

I don’t know what The Plan is this weekend. The Romanian always needs a Plan, although she never MAKES the Plan. I am supposed to be the ingenious Plan Maker. How many ways can you make, “Let’s go shopping at The Avenues” sound fascinating? I mean, we could drive to Kabd, but we have no Plans. I made plans with Kabd friends, but she doesn’t like them because they’re old and “not cute enough”. OMG girl! Now I am supposed to create something awe-inspiring out of thin air. Maybe I’ll create a fake agenda.

Hers would go a little some-in like this:

2:30 pm Wake up
2:30 – 3:30 Drink coffee and smoke cigarettes
3:30 Strategize make-up plan
3:45 Shower
4:15 Apply make-up
5:00 Go to Desert Girl’s
5:30 – 6:00 Drink coffee and smoke cigarettes
6:30 Eat Sushi
7:00-ish Complain about how much food we ate
7:10 Ask what The Plan is
7:15 (Driving around, aimlessly) Call all the party people we know: Only 3 will answer the phone. 1 won’t be doing anything. 2 will have something going on that sounds like only a luke-warm possibility.
9:00 (Back at Chateau de Desert Girl): Only 1 will call back later, insisting that it’s a great party and we HAVE to get over there (which we all know is a lie because if it was a great party, they would never be calling anyone – they would be having a great time. Instead, they are calling people who can be entertaining – like us.)
10:00 Get sleepy and go home without having accomplished anything that was on The Plan.
10:30 Call boys. There is another term for this, but I’m not sayin it. Oh yes I am…. BOOTY CALL!!!!

And so our weekend repeats itself.

Oh, I forgot that I’m going to an embassy function tonight (The Romanian is going to be pissed). Not our embassy – a friend is an Ambassador from one of those non-USA countries. I love him. The Chairman might actually be there. I can ignore him in person instead of on the phone; Smile seductively from across the room and then turn and talk to whatever other man is near me and “give him my back” (rude behavior in Kuwait). What do I have that’s cute to wear? Damn. Why am I so hopeless? I shop constantly and never have anything to wear. Let me start with my feet – my burgundy D&G shoes. Upwards from there is where I have the problems. Where is my mommy when I need someone to dress me?

Does anyone read these reports?