Pillow Dive: The Shroud of Rumaithiya

As anticipated, I crashed in the late afternoon yesterday.  (Stella, stop reading this NOW.)  I was at my desk, put my head on my hand and fell asleep.  I have never ever ever in my entire career - anywhere - done that.  (Although the 'betes meds do make me very sleepy right around 3 pm - that is a recent development.)  To make matters worse, our marketing manager came in to talk to me, called my name 3 times, and decided to let me sleep. Oh.My.Gawd!  I apologized and left early.  At least I wasn't "singing opera" (aka "snoring").   I was really wiped out.  Went home and did a pillow dive, fully clothed. Huge lipstick smear all over my pillow case.  Whatever.  (Incase you were wondering - no, that's not a first.  Sometimes it gets a full facial impression.  You get eyebrow make-up, mascara, eyeliner, foundation, and lipstick.  It's like the Shroud of Turin only not as holy and a whole lot more... well, colorful, I suppose, without being trampy, of course.)

Later, A came over and cooked me kabsa.  It took him 3 hours (my stove is electric and it sucks), but it was really good.  At Hour 2, I asked him if he just wanted to finish it on the barbecue grill outside.  I've got to stop eating rice.  These rice guys are killing me.   I love it how rice-packer dudes insist that YOU need to get more fit; while hand-feeding you mountains of steaming spiced rice and meat.  It just isn't FAIR.  Stop, stop.... no, don't stop, don't stop....

By the by:  Why don't they have a WholeFoods in Kuwait?  WTF.    I love that place.  My sister calls it, "the hairy-legged woman place."  Says that all the shoppers there don't shave their legs and their all so self-important that they ram their carts right into ya.  Whatevah.  I ram back. (And no, I do not have hairy legs. Ew.)  Why is it that I have to pay like 30KD for 3 apples and an onion at (that usual Westerner place I go to in Kuwait) and most of the produce is usually bad?  Why can't I have a WholeFoods?  Why? Why?

Back to our story...

I'm going to have to think of a nickname for A.  I don't know what yet.  It hasn't hit me. Anyhoo, he's been really sweet and helpful and totally got me out of my bad funk/element.   He's my Calgon.  Maybe I should call him that (not sure yet).  I'm grateful.

So I asked A's dad what he would like me to bring him from the States. He said, "A beautiful American lady..."  So here's what I brought him:

Ask and ye shall receive.  Bada BING.
(There's a hole in her plastic container.  Do you think it is so she can breathe?  I was always under the assumption that Barbi could breathe through her ears...   I also can't tell if it is Birthday Barbi or Bride Barbi.  Could be either.)

{23 April Update:  "A" told me that  his dad loved the Barbi and immediately set about taking her clothes off.  [Me:  look of shock.  Him:  "He's Bedouin!  What did you think he would do?" (He said it - not me.)]  A added, "Did you know that she had underwear?"}

His mom wanted shoes (you can't find good leather shoes here that don't cost 50KD - add that to the 3 apples and an onion for 30KD and you are looking at a car payment.)  A and his mom haven't been speaking much; she's mad at him because of something stupid.  I thinked receiving the shoes helped smooth things over.  (I got yo' back, buddy.  Nothing like a new pair of shoes to make mommy smile.)

A got me a license plate holder for my Camaro while I was in the States.  I'd been searching for one of those damn things.  Dealer dudes got me one o'dem long, European-style license plates and I didn't want to just randomly drill holes in the front bumper, so I've been driving around with the tag in my front window.  Not having a front license plate was an excuse for every police officer Tom, Dick, and Harry to pull me over.  "Hey, there's a blonde in a sports car at night.  Let's go get her..."  So I am very relieved that the 5-O has no reason to stop me now (other than being blonde, but as far as I know, that is not a crime..... yet.)  A also had some maintenance things taken care of for me.  I love having a man who can cook AND maintain. ... RrrrepreSENT.

Something completely different...

So, with all these earthquakes going on in Kuwait, our office is moving to the 30th floor of a building downtown with floor-to-ceiling glass panels.  That should be fun.  I'm afraid of heights.  My palms are sweating right now, just thinkin about it. Am I even capable of running down 30 flights of stairs in the event of an emergency?  Must I start training now?  What happens if the elevator goes out?  What happens if I'm wearing heels? Should I buy a parachute? There are so many what-if's.  30th floor?  Eeeek.  I worked for a construction company here before.  I know what goes on.  I'm not at all comfortable with this.  Nobody asked me.

I miss my family.  That sucks.  I had such a nice trip.  So relaxing and fun.  My sister really went above-and-beyond to make me happy.  She felt that I had the need.  I so did.  Wish I had more time to spend there.  ... summer plans.

I have nothing to report from Kuwait.  Nothing has really happened yet (other than falling asleep at work even though I had an __itload of work to do.  Shameful, really. Quite appalling.) 

Oh, I ran into my friend in Kuwait customs coming through the airport. There were like 6 guys standing with him.  I turn the corner around that gynormous x-ray machine and thar he was.  I shouted out his name (forgetting where I was).  "(Dude!) you lost weight!  How is your sister?  Where is the logaymat?"  Then, it occurred to me that his friends were all staring at me (not the "I'm hoping to get in your pants" stare either.  More like, "You are odd and I don't know what to make of you" stare).  No, I wasn't drunk (although the 2 Percocets I had on the plane may have had some residual affect).  Anyhoo, gave me a chuckle.  I used to have a lot of friends in Kuwait customs.  Seems like every time I went through the airport, I was taking some guy's number in the hopes of bringing in contraband refreshments (yes, it actually did work and I maintain my friendships so now most of those guys are supervisors). Now that they got those G-damn x-ray machines and surveillance cameras (surveilling the surveillers), it has become a lot more difficult (and yet, strangely, do-able).  And then.... my leetle Mexican friend, Jose, and I walked out together, arm-in-arm into the sunset.

Along the lines of surveillance - a security guy on the plane told me that last year, 800 seasoned police officials were early-retired, leaving a tremendous void in the knowledge pool over here.  I hadn't heard about it, but I don't doubt it.  Did anyone else hear about that?  That may be a factor in why there are so many incidents of violent crime lately. Wow. 

GTG now.  Catch y'alls later.

Bless your heart.