Sunday, November 22, 2015

I haven't felt like blogging

(Something wonky is going on with the formatting here...)

I've been overworked lately.  Lots going on.  Lots to be grateful for.  I'm tired.  I'm not in a mood to write. I'm not even hungry.  Even ice cream has lost its flavor. (Let me just tell y’alls:  When your pralines and cream goes south, you are in deep trouble.) 

(KDD chocolate ice cream is so yummy.  I ate what was left of our quart – and then I replaced the container in the freezer with a potato in it so Dorothy would get her spoon and bowl and be all happy …. And then….. SPUD WAR CONTINUES!  I’ll write more about The Great Spud War of 2015 later in this post.  Wait for it….)

On Thursday afternoons,  I receive the inevitable message from BFF, "What's the plan?" (Intimating that have a plan or should have a plan.)  If I didn't have a job, I might be planning or calling people to do stuff so why is it that friends with no jobs don't have plans?  Why do I have to make the plan? Here is my plan:  I'm taking the dog for a walk, putting on my PJ's, staring at the TV for a while and going to sleep. That's my plan every night.  It's sad.  Make a plan for me and maybe that will change.  I'm too busy and tired.  “I am dying for barbecue in the desert.”  Well snap!  Now I am too.  Go buy meat and marinade it.  There’s a desert plot across the street from my house.  Let’s go.

And in other news….

I had a hissy fit at work this morning.  I try not to do it, but I let my inner biotch out this morning. (My apologies to anyone even close to Ground Zero - the blast zone...)  I’ve got to start blasting Aretha Franklin:  R E S P E C T!  Then, I got an "I'm so full of myself.  Me me me" message that had me gritting my teeth.  (For the record:  You are NOT special.  Nobody effing cares.  Get over yourself.)   God, I wish I could talk about some of this stuff on the blog.  It sucks that so many people read it.  Now, I have to actually PAY psychiatrists and therapists to help me. Before, my blog was my therapy.

For the record (again), I can be all "me me me" up in here because it's a blog - my blog.  Just sayin.

Thanksgiving is coming up.  Thank you, God for giving me a great job with people who do actually appreciate me (once in a while, after a biotchfit) and a roof over my head and a room mate who cooks and rock solid friends a great dog and on the other side of the pond - for a wonderful family.  I have a lot to be thankful for.

We hired someone recently… Can I blog about this? …. Ok.  I didn’t know who it was until after we hired (the person).  So cool!  I know her because this person is a blogger.  It’s so awesome.  We’ve been blog buddies for years but I just never know (the person’s) real name.  That’s how I got hired here.  Stella hired me from the blog through people who read it.  I had met her about a year and a  half earlier at an event and then she posted a comment on the blog when I was thinking of leaving Kuwait and we got together, had a 4 hour dinner, and she hired me.  I probably would have hired (this new person) if I had known also because I can vouch for their character.

And in other other news….

Oh!!!!  Holy snap!  I didn't tell you guys!  You'll never guess what happened!  Ok, before I found this fab apartment in Mishref, I was supposed to move into a 4 bedroom apartment with a local Western realtor.  Very nice guy that I have known for a long time.  Well, due to a miscommunication, Dorothy Spornak room mate and I didn't end up taking it and I was (yes again) totally pissed off.  (I mean really - I held it in, but I was so angry.)   I had to find the Mishref apartment in ONE day.  The 4 BR apartment was furnished. We had asked that they remove all the furniture - except for the refrigerator which we were going to use.  That was our plan.  So, last week, I ran into the real estate dude and he said, "I was meaning to tell you.  In my 30(?) years of doing this, we have never had a major fire - until we did - in that unit you were going to take.  The people who were going to move in had their suitcases outside when the fire happened."  Now holy shyt - we would have already been moved in there by then - WITH our pets.  So, more than likely, we would have been at work and the 2 dogs and cat would have died.  Guess how the fire started?  The REFRIGERATOR was faulty!  Can you believe it?  Everything is part of God's plan.  Dayum.

Random thought 

I really like the US Ambassador’s wife, Catherine Silliman.  She is so down to Earth and approachable. She knows my alter-ego (not Desert Girl, but my real name) and came up to tell me how sorry she was to hear that my dog had passed away; as hers older dog had passed away last August.  She didn’t have to, but it was such a compassionate gesture. She must meet a gazillion people and it was lovely to be remembered.  Catherine is also one of those people who, if someone more important (depending on how you measure important I guess) walks up and starts talking to her, she turns back to the first person she was talking to (me, in this case) giving them her full attention.  I admire those types of people.  You go, girl.  You have the Desert Girl Seal of Approval.  So people, if you are ever anywhere that you are lucky enough to see Mrs. Silliman, go tell her I said she’s a wonderful person.

(I had the random thought because the realtor guy conversation took place at the same event.  That’s how I made the segue.)

By the way, Hilton Hotel:  YOUR THANKSGIVING STUFFING STILL SUCKS!!!  How many YEARS have to pass before you realize that the annual stuffing log (looks like a turd) is NOT the way it is supposed to be.  I mean – go to Sultan Center and look on the package of stuffing mix.  There’s a picture.  Stuffing log!  Ick.  Oh, not that I am not GRATEFUL to have had stuffing turd (my mom told me to be polite and grateful).  Whaaaaaat?  Other people commented too.  I just blog.  That’s all.

The Great Spud War of 2015

I vowed about 20 years ago (I’m 29, shut up!) never to have a room mate again. My belief is that there can only be One Queen in every castle (I still am – don’t doubt it).  But this year, it just worked out that me and Dorothy Spornak needed a place to live at the same time and the rent prices in Kuwait have everyone’s behind hurting.

The Mr. PotatoHead War of Yesteryear

Pre-20 years ago, I had a room mate.  She and I grew up together.  She has the same sick sense of humor that I do (and that I have discovered that Dorothy does).  She started the PotatoHead War back in the day by pulling the same stunt that I did recently on Dorothy (replacing the empty ice cream container with a potato and returning to the freezer).  Former roommie and I went back and forth with that damn potato (I painted a smiley face on him and put him in the bottom of her toilet once)  until he was about the size of a raisin.  At which point, I wired him to the front grill of her car and she drove to Georgetown Law School with him like that for 2 days until he came back to me in a body bag (Hefty sandwich bag with a slide-lock): Mashed PotatoHead.  When I moved to Kuwait, I mailed her a potato sitting on a mini beach chaise with an umbrella and a drink in his hand!  Probably broke several international mail and agriculture laws doing it, but whatever.

THIS time it is slightly more despicable as Mr. PotatoHead is anatomically correct.  (NOT my fault – it was Dorothy!).  This twist has led to major changes in the strategy, including picture-taking on location with Mr. P.  All very fascinating.  I thought of posting pictures here, but I would get in trouble with The Internet Police (who have become very tough lately).

Anyways, now it is the weekend and quitting time and I have to figure out a Plan for my friends.  I’m having some painting done and taking my Big Dog out (not metaphorical) and I have a date with a new guy.  That’s my plan. Oh – and the sofa of course.

Y’alls have a good one.

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