It is so F-ing hot and F-ing humid that I am sure that all my brain cells have died. I can't remember things. I'm lethargic. I'm dizzy. I'm absent-minded. Oh, and let's not even mention what the weather has done to my appearance. First of all, I have some kind of weird eye infections that won't go away, and I look like Bozo. I guess with the red eyes and frizzy hair, I must look like some kind of frenzied drug addict and I probably scare children; Best to stay inside with the AC on.
The Romanian went with me this time to the shop and we were playing, "Sexy Librarian" - much to the delight of the old sales dude behind the counter. 'Okay so now imagine me in a Catholic school girl uniform...' I know - perverse, right? You gotta do SOMETHING to keep entertained in this country! Especially when it is 150-holyshitthat'shot-degrees and your brain is no longer firing.
I'm feeling extreeeeeeemely mischievious lately, but I just can't work up the energy to do anything about it. I don't even want to leave home. As soon as I'm at work, I'm thinking about my pillow again. Somebody put a spell on me - fer sure. Yesterday, I broke a glass and one of the pieces had a hole in the middle that looked like an eye (evil eye). I didn't even used to believe in that crap until I came here and got the stink eye. It happens.
32 more days until my annual leave.... Yes, that's right... sadly, I will miss Ramadan. Forgive me if I don't cry. I hate Eid; it is the single expat's worst nightmare. Everyone else in the country is celebrating with family and you are stuck inside listening to the little bastards outside with the salutes (fireworks) because you have nowhere to go and no one to do it with. It is like Christmas for 3 days and you aren't invited. I used to scoff when The Man said to my whining, "I'm your family." Oh yeah? Let's go to your aunt's house and visit her on Eid... What time should I be at lunch? Nice in fantasy; doesn't really amount to anything in reality. I think my leave ends before Eid; come to think of it. Must make travel arrangements now....
Oh, I got "invited" to Sharm by a new acquaintance. "Tomorrow be ready and we'll go to the travel agency. We'll stay at the blah blab blah and do blah blah blah..... (yada, didn't hear the rest until...) you pay for your ticket and I'll pay for mine." What does "invite" mean? Then, I saw him in the Mall with my girlfriend and he stared at her butt. Slimy! Where have all the real men gone? I pay for myself, but don't "invite" me if that's not what your intentions are. (Like this week when I was "invited" to a friend's house for dinner and then told to bring KFC! WTF.)
What is it with extremely wealthy men being extremely cheap? I don't get it. I know a Chairman. I've posted about him before; Chairman of a large company, vice chairman of a BANK. He was after me for a looooong time and I finally agreed to have coffee with him. He brought me a gift. I couldn't see very well (eye problems -rrrrr!) and didn't notice the wrapping. Do you know what the Chairhole brought me? A re-gifted corporate gift that somebody probably brought to his office! Does he not KNOW the rules of re-gifting? You have to take it OUT of its original wrapping if the end-user is able to determine that you are re-gifting. What a jerk. I re-re-gifted it and gave it to my secretary (who is used to getting my corporate gifts from salespeople). C'mon, rich dude - at least a flower. Be original. It isn't the price of the gift, it is the thought. (His "gift" was like the anti-thought.) Now he's begging to see me again. Yuk.
I tried the dignified approach first, 'Mr. Chairhole, I'm not a 20-something, starry-eyed girl who is going to love you for your money and your position; I have what I need and I can get what I want. If that's what you are looking for, there are a lot of little girls around here who you can talk to. I'm looking for a man to respect me...'
That didn't work.
I will use the sure-fire way to get rid of a Kuwaiti man: ask him for money. Not a loan, flat out say you either want money or a big gift (like a piece of expensive jewelry or a car). Tell him you went to Salhiya, put something on hold, and want him to go pay for it and pick it up for you. Do NOT giggle while you're stating it. Poker face! It works immediately and without exception. I would never do it for real (I don't need a man to take care of me), but to serve my purposes of imminent separation, it works every time like a charm. I know, it seems whorish and doesn't feel at all right, but it works. You will never hear from him again. I'm doing it to the Chairhole. So far, it is working...
(Disclaimer for those who will write in and say, "Not ALL Kuwaiti men are like that, Desert Girl.": Not all Kuwaiti men are like that. Happy?)
I guess if he gives it to me, I'm in trouble, but then I can always throw it in his face and tell him what a pig he is for getting me something so expensive that it is indecent! Tee hee. (There is always a way!)