I Miss You, Daddy.

My father used to take my sister and I to the beach when we were little kids. For some reason, when I found out that he had passed away 2 weeks ago on April 2nd, I remembered how his hand felt in mine while we walked down the beach together. It must have been a really long time ago because I can't remember going to the beach with him anytime in recent history, but there it is: perhaps it is what he wanted me to remember of him - a big strong guy taking care of me - rather than the little old man he had become at the end of his life.

During the past few years, I didn't feel like Dad was Dad. He used to be such a happy, active man. Recently, it was as if he was ready to go. He was tired all the time and not very happy with life. My sister did a great job making him as comfortable as possible and I am so glad that she had a chance to be with him and get to know him again. They were buddies. I felt so bad for her because they were so close and his passing has hurt her deeply - more, I believe, than she is allowing anyone to see.

She and my brother-in-law found him in his little home in Virginia. He went peacefully after 81 years, but it is still a shock to all of us. Maybe part of you thinks that your parents will always be there. I can't believe he is gone.

I can't remember most of the trip from here to Virginia. I cried most of the way and the rest of the time, I was in some kind of a trance.

The most difficult part of the 2 weeks I was there was cleaning out his home. It felt so disrepsectful; like a huge invasion of privacy. 81 years of a person's life amounts to an accumulation of stuff; stuff that no one else can value; stuff that we don't know the origins of. I took his dad-hat, his glasses, and one of his favorite sweaters (which is probably about 30 years old since he took such amazing care of his clothes) with me. I also took a really ugly blue glass decanter in the shape of an eagle that my sister and I had bought him many years ago as a birthday present. It meant something to him; he moved it through several different households. It now means something to me.

I never knew how proud he was of me. He kept all my cards and all the various pieces of work that I sent him over the years.

My sisters and I got to say goodbye to him. They wheeled him up in a gurney at the funeral home. I told him how sorry I was for not calling him enough. We thanked him for loving us all.

His memorial service was beautiful. It was grave-side at the small Southern cemetery where most of my dad's side of the family is buried. My cousin played "Amazing Grace" on the bagpipes. Long before his death, I cried whenever I heard the song played on the pipes. I completely lost it during his service.

I was strong around my sisters. When I saw that they were being strong (probably for me), I was strong for them. It wasn't until I got back here that things have really hit me. Grief has been coming in waves. Sometimes, just when you feel like you are going to be okay for a while, you start crying again. Maybe a song or a picture will remind you. I'm just wondering if I will be the same me when time passes. I don't know how a person could be. Some of my very close friends have been changed dramatically by the loss of a parent. They are not the same people. I know I feel different.

We chose this poem for his prayer card.

I'm Free

Don't grieve for me, for now I'm free
I'm following the path God laid for me.
I took His hand when I heard him call;
I turned my back and left it all.
I could not stay another day,
To laugh, to love, to work or play.
Tasks left undone must stay that way;
I found that place at the close of day.
If my parting has left a void,
Then fill it with remembered joy.
A friendship shared a laugh, a kiss;
Ah yes, these things, I too will miss.
Be not burdened with times of sorrow
I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow.
My life's been full, I savored much;
Good friends, good times, a loved ones touch.
Perhaps my time seems all to brief;
Don't lengthen it now with undue grief.
Lift up your heart and share with me,
God wanted me now, He set me free.


I have gone to call him several times and have to stop myself. Why can't I just hear his voice one more time? I miss him terribly.

And there are many more to come…

The cards are starting to fall. Gotta love justice. For years, just about everybody in the contracting business (for the US Military) working in Kuwait has been either giving or receiving kickbacks; gifts, priviledges, etc. Now, there are all kinds of US Government auditing agencies in Kuwait to clean up the mess of the past 5 years (at US taxpayer expense). The Army Audit Agency (AAA), Defense Contract Audit Agency (DCAA), General Accounting Office (GAO), and Department of Army Inspector General (DAIG) are all in Kuwait auditing both the military and private contractors providing services under military contracts. You go, boyz and girlz! Clean em up! I hope they go after a particular 800 pound gorilla to the north of the city.

Check out these articles. There will be a lot more to follow: http://www.qctimes.net/articles/2006/03/24/news/local/doc44239587570ac687479388.txt and http://english.aljazeera.net/NR/exeres/2A551058-3568-4809-9134-9C78934B5E2B.htm. I interviewed with Mr. Khan in 2002. Arrogant little phuck.

What is happening is that these US agencies are aware of the individuals who have been paying people off; cases are being built in conjunction with the Kuwaiti (and other) government; when the individuals go to the US, they are picked up off the planes and taken to court. It is easier for the US to do it that way than to actually arrest people in the region. In other words, a short trip to the US for vacation can turn into a long, extended trip with a hairy guy making you his prison bitch.

All this corruption is disgusting. Seemingly, the only way for contractors to win here is to pay people off. If you are honest, you have been left in the dust. I have never condoned illegal practices nor have I had anything to do with it; however, I know many people here who have. Maybe the audits/arrests/imprisonments will make some changes.

One of my Kuwaiti friends came to me in 2003 and said, "I want to open a transport (trucking) company. What do you think?" My response, "Do you have a chalet, some hookers and some booze?" He (a somewhat religious guy) was shocked. I told him to be ready for reality.

Just yesterday, I was approached by a Kuwaiti friend who wanted me to "help him" get contracts with the military. He said, "Don't worry, we will give them whatever money they want for their commission." I told him I didn't even want to discuss it and that I would have no part of anything illegal. This mentality still prevails!

The problem is that most local companies (big and small) don't know how to deal with the military (the legitimate way); can't write the proposals or even fill in the forms. Many can't navigate the websites to find out what bids are out there. If you are having trouble, hire me. J amerab@gmail.com. Nothing illegal here.

What I personally have found from many of these companies is that they want you to provide a service, but then make you an offer to become a "partner". That translates to: you do all the work and we kick you out when you're done (also known as "partner" = phuck you.) Aint gonna happen. Unless your name is on a sign (and partership contract), you aren't a partner. We get paid a fee for a service. Very simple.

Isn't Spring Pretty?

Ok, granted that Spring in Kuwait lasts all of 2.2 nanoseconds, it still is very very pretty around here. You can actually SMELL flowers before the dust-funk sets in at which time all you can smell is something close to mustard gas/camel shit. In the summer, you don't even want to breathe the outdoor air (unless you are lucky enough to be in a boat WAY south somewhere far away from the stinky bay) because you are running from your car to whatever the next point of air conditioning is.

2 weeks ago, I went camping with my Man. It was one of those spontaneous occurrances that stays with you for like forever. We decided kind of late to go; packed up his 4x and headed South. He had several spots in mind to pitch the little tent, but they all turned out to be too close to other people or the areas weren't right. I finally told him that we should head down the Wafra road and see what we could find out there. It turned out really well. It was dark by the time we got out there and we found a place far away from anybody else. There were signs of animals around - sheep and camels. I had a similar situation when I went camping with a group of people in Vermont. We found a lovely spot in a clearing near some trees. We woke up in the morning and discovered that we were in the middle of a cow pasture (cow patties, anyone?) Anyhoo, my Guy didn't mind sleeping where sheep had been, but he had an absolute fearful look on his face when he talked about how we couldn't camp anywhere where camels had slept because "genies sleep under camels". Apparently, he thought we might bring some home with us (Dude, if you only knew how many genies I've already GOT!). Another camp-deciding factor was that we had to be pretty far from anyone else because - as he said - "Your ass is big and white and we don't have a tent for the bathroom. They'll be able to see you from 2 kilometers". That was comforting.

The air was beautiful. Little flowers were around us. We woke up to the sounds of camels and sheep down below the hill somewhere. Desert Dawg stayed guard all night at the foot of the tent. I doubt she could have even protected us from a gerbil, let alone a sheep or a camel. I've seen her run at the sight of cockroaches.

Get this - the company I used to work for (the KGB) actually hired me to provide a "country orientation for an incoming executive and family". At my consulting billable hourly rate too. What a crock o'doo doo. I almost didn't do it because 1) KGB dude was so rude and b) the exec's wife was so rude. She never took off her pink Chanel sunglasses (they were probably fake) the entire time I was taking her around. I did it anyways. Easy money (if the KGB ever pays). We'll see.

I haven't posted for a while. I was feeling kind of hexed/vexed. I don't know if I'm really past it or not, but I needed to vent somehow and I am really sick of (formerly known as ) SheeshaGirl and her boyfriend problems. I can't vent to her. The Romanian is out of the country for a while - probably having a great time while I am here toiling. I can't vent to Bobarino because if it isn't sexual, he has no interest. He's such a pig. Gotta love him.

Has anyone heard from MuslimArtist? Girl, I am kind of worried about you if you are reading this.

Anyways, I finally got my new car after 4 months of waiting for one in BLACK. Black is beautiful. I don't understand why it took so long to get that color. And - why is it that Al-Ghanim can't bring the Trailblazer SS to Kuwait? I love that car. It has a Corvette engine in a 4x4 for God's sake! The guy who helped me find the car was so nice. When/if I ever get some money, I am going to send him something really good. He kept trying until he finally found me the right car - after 4 months! Believe that? He found it at another dealership, so he never even got his commission. Sometimes people just amaze you and you realize that yes - there really are good/kind people out there who don't want anything from you (like getting into your pants after the deal is done). This guy just did it out of the kindness of his heart, shook my hand, and walked away.

By the way, my birthday is April 16th incase anyone feels like doing something nice for a fellow human. I am feeling rather needy lately (I hate that - it is such a chick thing).

Anyhoo, hope everyone out there in cyberland is fine and that you are enjoying the Spring too. Thank you for the nice comments.

Wag The Dog

Isn't it interesting how the American media and most of the world are turning their attention from the daily killings (on both sides) in Iraq to a small, non-threatening European country? Politicians of the world are now busy worrying about cartoons (albeit ignorant and blasphemous cartoons).

I tink I taw a fuckwit...

I ran into my fuckwit x-boss the other day. I have been seeing him quite a lot lately and I believe it is his twist of fate with his own karma. This is the guy who fired me, telling me that I had been "under investigation for the past 15 days" (without the required legal documentation from the Ministry of Interior). It turned out that I was fired for "talking bad about the HR Director". Well yeah - duuuuuuuuuuh. Didn't care. Technically by the legal document I signed when they handed over my final settlement check (after much negotiation through a very nice lawyer I hired), I "resigned" from that job at (what I call) KGB Logistics. That's old news... Anyhoooooooo, I ran into said fuckwit at a car dealership. I was looking at the top-of-the-line and he was looking at the bottom-of-the-line. I have heard lately that fuckwit's car allowance at KGB was ended abruptly and that he's not happy there anymore (boo hoo. How ya likin all those asses you kissed NOW?). He saw me, I saw him, I turned my head as if he didn't exist.

And now.... for something completely non-fuckwitish:

I forwarded an inspirational Maya Angelou e-mail (that my friend, Lyza, in Texas forwarded to me - thanks Lyza. You always make me feel good.) to a friend. She said that I was judgemental for sending it to her. I also forwarded it to about 20 other people and several people thanked me. I guess it is all about your perspectives. Here's how it went:

Maya Angelou was interviewed by Oprah on her 70+ birthday. Oprah asked her what she thought of growing older. And, there on television, she said it was "exciting." Regarding body changes, she said there were many, occurring every day..like her breasts. They seem to be in a race to see which will reach her waist, first. The audience laughed so hard they cried.

• "I've learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow."
• "I've learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights."
• "I've learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you'll miss them when they're gone from your life."
• "I've learned that making a "living" is not the same thing as "making a life."
• "I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance."
• "I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw some things back."
• "I've learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision"
• "I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one."
• "I've learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back."
• "I've learned that I still have a lot to learn."
• "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."

Forgive me for being "judgemental", but isn't it a bit judgemental to assume that I was being judgemental by sending this?

Anyhoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

I had a nice weekend. Bobarino, Fishgirl, Salongirl & T, Sheeshagirl, and The Man came over for a pizza night on Thursday. Luckily, I sat on the floor so I wouldn't have too far to fall on my ass from laughing. The weather was great and it was a happy time. We ordered pizza from Sbarro - which, if you haven't ordered from there before - is about the size of a 20' Escallade aluminum wheel rim.

I had the opportunity to tell off a stupid driver this weekend too. (One day, someone is actually going to kick my ass.) 45-year-old-dude had to cut across 3 whole lanes of traffic to get his car within inches of my back bumper and flashing his lights. Being the kind and courteous driver that I am, I threw it into a lower gear and then sped up abruptly, causing him to slam on his brakes and go into a rather nice skid. tee hee. He met me at the light with a look and rolled his window down. I'm like, "Hey! How old are you? 12????" He said, "The road was open, why don't you go?" I said, "You almost hit me back there!" So he said, "You are a bitch." and I said, "No! You're the bitch, BITCH!" I don't know why, but being able to call a 45 year old man in a Grand Marquis with full head gear on a bitch just filled me with absolute delight and wonder. I got a real good look at his tonsils because his jaw was on the floor. He just continued to stare at me until the light changed. I don't believe that anyone had ever called him a beeatch before and that perhaps he thought that I would become terribly insulted and quiver away in tears (as if).

Now, what people here don't understand is that the word "bitch" has several different connotations - and in American, does not necessarily refer to the Arab understanding of the word (meaning hoochie, ho, slut, tramp, or prostitute). So, the one day that I was telling The Man that my dear friend, The Romanian, was "such a bitch" - I didn't mean that she is a prostitute (he couldn't understand why I was associating with her - ha ha). Quite the contrary - it was a term of endearment. However, with Grand Marquis Dude, that was not the reference I was going for. For him, I meant PUNKASSBITCH or perhaps PRISONBITCH or maybe even YOUSOMEBODY'SBITCH.

I guess it just goes to show you - it is all in how you say something that matters and what your perspective is.

Yippee! Sabah Al-Ahmad!

I am so glad that Sabah Al-Ahmad is the Emir. You go, boy! I guess a lot of Kuwait was suffering from the pucker factor considering the alternative. I know I was. And now… the birds are singing, the sky is blue… I can't wait to see what is in store. I hope the bedoon issue is resolved and soon. Let's get on with it.

Did you see Sara Al-Haji's story in Bazaar about what new years resolutions she would like to see Kuwait make (and keep)? A synopsis (paraphrased by me):

I promise to clear the garbage off Kuwait's streets
I will plant more foliage on major roads and roundabouts
I promise never again to spend money on pathetic electric palm trees (let's all thank Dr. Jassem Al-Mudhaf for that one)
I promise to sort out traffic problems and the disgraceful state of our roads
I promise not to allow construction companies to screw me over by doing a lousy job (paraphrased that one big time)
I will encourage authorities to foster a team environment in government and business with lessons learned.
I will recognize outstanding Kuwaitis
I promise to educate people on the dangers of living close to high voltage towers
I promise to enforce traffic laws with stricter fines and penalties.
I promise a public awareness campaign on child safety seats.

I like Sara. Haven't met her, but she's a good writer and right on point.

I would add a few:
To weed out corruption in both the government and private sector and adding laws to enforce and penalize organizations that are continual violators.
Labor law reform and enforcement. In conjunction with this, a centralized and friendly labor education office for information and assistance (in several languages)
Updating family law and creating safe shelters for women and their children.

God, The Country, The Emir

In the words of Asrar Al-Qabandi: "Allah, Al-Watan, Al-Emir!" ("God, the Country, the Emir.") This was her motto during her days of the resistance. If you don’t know who Asrar is - I implore you to go forth and find out. She was a national hero and her life was worth what will amount to a brief internet quest. She echoes the sentiment felt by many Kuwaitis about Sheikh Jaber Al-Ahmad Al-Sabah.

My personal history with this country stretches back most of my life, so it is only logical that I should form an opinion of its rulers. I have always held an affection for the ruler who passed away this week. Sheikh Jaber’s accolades since the beginning of his rule in 1977 are well known. The affection his people (and others like myself) felt for him may not be as apparent – at least in English language periodicals. There just isn’t enough being said in English to reveal the heart of this country – often referred to in the Western media as a "tiny oil-rich country".

Long before I ever came to Kuwait, I had known members of the Sabah family and through them, I have felt their love and admiration for Sheikh Jaber. They spoke of his kindness and genuine concern for his people and his country. Diplomats of various nationalities discussed his humble attitude; some bowing their heads when speaking of him.

The closest I have felt to Sheikh Jaber was during the Gulf War when he stood before the United Nations, in tears, asking for the worlds help in liberating his country. At that time, there was concern that he appeared weak by showing emotions in a global forum. I thought not. I admired him for his genuine heartfelt sadness and grief. Although he was a figure head, he felt (and was not ashamed to display) the same raw, sandblasted emotions that all of us who suffered losses during that time did. He showed a human side that I believe is lacking in many of leaders of today. I remember how people showed their affection for the Emir during that time while I was in Washington, DC. Sheikh Jaber’s picture was everywhere; T-shirts and photos of him whenever there was a demonstration or gathering. Then, I started to think back about how long I "knew" the Emir (while growing up in the States). Although we went through terms and terms of US presidents, the Emir had been in power since 1977. So, if he had such an impact on me personally – on the other side of the world – how had he impacted Kuwaitis? I grew up seeing clips of the Emir surrounded by colorfully-dressed, smiling and singing little kids who obviously adored him.

Within a week of the invasion of Kuwait by Iraq, the Kuwaiti government was working from Taif in Saudi Arabia. The Emir worked with the US (George Bush Sr.) and other global leaders to come to the aid of his country. Effectively, he saved his own country through negotiations and cleaver lobbying. The Emir was loved. The resistance fighters wrote slogans (like Asrar’s) as graffiti to psychologically terrorize the Iraqis during the occupation. For his name and his photo alone, they risked their lives. Love doesn’t get much deeper than that.

I never met Sheikh Jaber Al-Ahmad Al-Sabah personally, although I blew him flying kisses on the Gulf Road whenever I saw his motorcade drive by – usually on my way to work in the mornings with my Kuwaiti friend, Nahid, who thought that I was out of my mind. I didn’t care. Maybe one day he would see me and smile and my task would have been complete.

As the official condolences take place and as people here jostle to determine who will be put into the ruling seats, much of the display appears superficial; Perhaps people want to back the winning horse in the race. There are other terms for it, but that is what happens when the old pass the reins to the new. Newcomers to Kuwait may not understand the implication of these historic days.

I called Kuwaiti friends to offer my personal condolence. I received many similar words of comfort from Kuwaiti friends right after 9/11 – even though I was here in Kuwait and relatively removed from the situation at the time. It is about connections. It is about humanity. All of my friends are saddened by a national loss.

What does Kuwait’s future hold without Sheikh Jaber? I’m sure that the politics and progress will continue in capable hands. Time marches on. This is a decade of amazing change in Kuwait; a time that I am very happy to be in the midst of. However, I find it hard to imagine a Kuwait without Sheikh Jaber’s picture on billboards and signage (and in almost every shop) waving hello. It is as if an old and trusted friend has gone.

Goodbye, Dear Friend

I am deeply saddened by the passing of Sheikh Jaber Al-Ahmad Al-Sabah.

I have been depressed - as many of my Kuwaiti friends are today. He has been around for most of my life - both here and when I was in the States. He was brought into my circle of people I care about by Kuwaiti friends who spoke fondly and compassionately of him throughout the years. "If I love you, I love those you love." We carried his picture during the Gulf War. We watched him on TV. We passed along tidbits of information about him and his life from diwaniya through the phone and back again.

Like an aging member of the family, everybody expected him to pass away, but now that it has happened, it is still a shock.

Hello Peeps

I know I haven't posted in a while. I am now in the mood for some incessant ramblings about nothing in particular. I'm so pathetic and superstitious that I felt like every time I wrote something good, that someone out there was giving me hot eyes (you know who you are and so do I). I blame superstition for absolutely everything that goes wrong in my life – so why not? Hot eyes are to blame for most of my car problems. For real. Hot eyes make me get in arguments when things are going perfectly well with perfectly good relationships. The damn hot eyes are everywhere. Western countries don’t have the evil eye problems we do here. Why? Because people in other parts of the world are actually busy doing other things besides having the time to be envious of whatever whoever has. That's why. That is my hot eye philosophy in a nutshell.

Oh, and if a black cat crosses in the street in front of me – I don't care how far I have to reverse down the street to go around it. If I don't, all Hell will surely break loose.

Do you know what pisses me off? Mechanics and gynecologists. Neither one can ever seem to fix a problem, they always charge you too much, and they never really explain what is going on. It is worse in Kuwait because as far as I am concerned, there are "professionals" who are not necessarily skilled here. The same can be said about both: Get OUT of my engine if you don't know what you are doing!

And while we are on the subject of engines….. I am still baking. Well, now it is more like shaking and baking. Tee hee. Some people actually DO know what to do inside of an engine, so…. (ok, enough said). Domestic bliss is suiting me very well. My friends like my guy. He looks very serious and all of a sudden, he'll say something that leaves you laughing uncontrollably. Good sex and good humor are the keys to life, my friends.

Have you ever heard of FP? It is a syndrome whereby you are in a relationship with someone and all of a sudden, members of the opposite sex are all over you like white on rice. FP actually refers to "flying p*&sy" (I refuse to write that word) where you have to dodge it because it comes at you so fast. (I guess I could change it to "flying penis" for the masculine angle.) Eddy Murphy did a skit about this in "Delirious". My friend, Bobarino, suffers from FP. As a single American guy, he finds that it comes at him faster (green card, green card) and more frequently; Mostly from waitresses and service industry girls. I guess I don't have that problem because I'm so mean to everybody service (or lack thereof) oriented (don't kid yourself, DG – it is because of your fat ass). FP comes to me in other forms. All of a sudden, because I am actually with someone, everybody in the whole world seems to be giving me The Eye. Very odd.

My friend, the Romanian, has been looking into getting collagen injected into her non-existent, flat ass. This is the butt (ha ha) of endless jokes for us. Will she make swishing sounds when she walks? What happens if it migrates in a ball down the back of her leg? What happens if it is pushed too hard (and how)? All this – at the price of 250 kd. Charmin costs about a dinar. That's all she needs to do is to stuff her jeans with toilet paper. What's the problem? Either that or she can have some of my butt fat for free. Sheeeeeeeeeet – everybody wants to be J Lo.

And speaking of wildlife… I love it that the Kuwaiti version of the environmental protection agency (PAAAFR) has asked people not to hunt migratory birds because of the bird flu. Ha ha. I love it that the birdies are fighting back. People here will shoot anything that moves. A certain sheikh friend once invited me to go (by helicopter) to a wildlife refuge in northern Kuwait to shoot birds (environmentally PROTECTED birds). He's probably eating lamb right about now. 'Gee, is that cough bird flu?'

Anyhoooooooooo (Purgy), it has been nice ranting to cyberworld. :D

Mashallah, Mashallah, Mashallah

hampSo, like…. I haven't written anything in a while because I have become domesticated. I don't know how that happened, really, but September 29th was the date that changed me.

I can't believe that I am going to say this (out loud and in my head), but I have actually started baking – like a Domestic Goddess. I mean, The Man asked me to make an apple pie; and I did. Then, The Man asked me to make Toll House cookies; and I did. He asked me to make coffee in the morning; and I did. All this – without any bitching, moaning, or complaining; I just did it; Totally unlike me. No take-out was involved. We didn't go to any restaurants. I cooked. Me. Alone. No help and nothing was out of a box mix. All of a sudden, I'm Betty Frickin Crocker … and I'm liking it.

What has happened to my world in such a short amount of time? All it took was some (sincere) decency, sweet words, and unselfish acts of kindness. Ah, the world is such a pretty place, isn't it?

Ok… enough Ferdinand stopping to smell the flowers….

I have to tell you about Thanksgiving. The Artist Formerly Known as Sheeshagirl had a Thanksgiving shin-dig (hootinany) at her house. She cooked 2 enormous turkeys, stuffing, sweet potatoes, string beans. I made my mom's famous root veggie puree, cranberry sauce, and baked apples. Most people brought deserts. There was very little alcohol involved which is totally untraditional, but kind of nice (no fist fights on the front lawn or drunken arguments).

There were about 25 people there – mostly new friends from Camp Arifjan or Doha. Naz came with his new bride, Z. Z is an innocent. I don't think she realizes much of what comes out of her mouth until much later. She talks and Naz smiles and sometimes makes strange facial expressions when she's not looking. Sometime after dinner, the conversation came around to matters of mahar (dowry). Z stated very innocently that she was the "cheapest in her family" – sending everybody into new heights of laughter. I don't believe it was what she meant to say. She's just so cute. One of the American guys said that if he had to pay a big mahar to his wife, they'd better put a pole in their bedroom. Z didn't catch that one either. Funny stuff.

I think The Man had a great time too. Everybody else went to different parties after the dinner. We went home because I was falling asleep. How is THAT possible?

They Cancelled Christmas???

So, we went to Bahrain. I don't know WHO gave me the hot eye, but apparently it was successfully accomplished.

We started off on Gulf Air – primarily because they serve wine (we didn't get any). The plane was delayed. There were 2 obnoxious girls sitting behind us; one with a nose ring (I haven't seen too many Kuwaiti girls with them). They kept spraying dayn al oud throughout the entire flight and arguing with the flight attendants. I wanted to haul off and smack one.

When we got to Bahrain, they stopped my friend in customs because the customs dude didn't know how to process her passport – as she is divorced from her Kuwaiti husband, has children, and doesn't need a sponsor. We sat there for half an hour until Tweedle Dumb could figure it out.

We got out and our hotel transfer wasn't waiting. I was going to rent a car and I forgot my drivers license in Kuwait. It just got worse from there. The bartender at our hotel made every drink on the menu with orange juice and gin – regardless of what we ordered. The hotel was new and pretty, but the service sucked in a big, bad way.

From what we were told, it was the first time in history that the Bahraini government had decided to fine and close bars and nightclubs during Eid because of code violations (serving alcohol even once during Ramadan). Shutting down discos in Bahrain during Eid is like cancelling Christmas: It just isn't done. All the good ones were closed. My girlfriends couldn't believe it and thought that we must be wrong (we weren't). It just doesn't feel like the same Bahrain to me anymore. The whole environment felt different. So anyhoooo, we ended up at a cheap sleezy nightclub that reminded me more of a jkhoor. Ick. We actually left Bahrain a day early and came back to Kuwait to have fun. How pathetic is THAT?

There was a 2 hour delay on the way back thanks to Gulf Air. Luckily, there is a bar with good wine at their airport, so we had something to do. Romanian met a Qatari guy sitting close by and they exchanged numbers (he later called to say that he was "open-minded" and to ask, "How close are you and your girlfriend?" Yuk!) The departure was almost okay – until Gulf Air lost the luggage of about 1/2 of the passengers on the flight, including ours. Tres sucky.

Well, I am back here where things (Mashallah, Mashallah, Mashallah) are very happy at the moment. The weather is beautiful. Life is good. Viva Kuwait!

Hot Blogger Guy - Is that You?

"Strangers are family you are yet to come to know."

The other day, a gorgeous Kuwaiti guy in a hot sports car allowed me into traffic. I thought, ‘Wow. What a nice guy.’ So, I did my normal thing and waved ‘thank you’. He was handsome and seemed a little on the serious side and I couldn’t help looking in my rear-view mirror at him. Yummy. I sped off to Kuwait Friendly House to do some trans-actin', and thought nothing more about it until I get an e-mail from a fellow blogger saying that it was him (he knows my car). What a shocker that was. You can never be too nice to people because you never know who they are going to be (except for the buttface who continually cut me off in his brown 745i this morning and then slammed on his brakes. He can go to Hell.)

Another day, I was down in Hawalli (which really has not-too-much-to-do with the paragraph above) and a Kuwaiti guy in a 4x stopped to let me into the traffic circle. I waved ‘thank you’ and he waved back frantically with both hands. Now, dude could have been mimicking me (and most likely was; a blonde thing, perhaps?), but it sent me into a giggle fit and I thought it was really cute. A little queer-looking for a big man to do, but funny.

Hot Blogger Guy reminded me that most women in Kuwait don’t wave ‘thank you’ in traffic because they think they are going to be hit on by male motorists; which, I’ve got to agree, is generally true. If you wave (or sneeze, or adjust your mirror, or pick your nose), it is almost like an invitation for them to come follow you. But I figure – I don’t give a schmidt because I am nice and I am going to stay that way no matter where I am. I always wave ‘thank you’. Ladies, what are your thoughts?

I’m off to Bahrain this weekend with the Romanian for a weekend of alcohol, dancing, and men of little virtue (not that there isn't plenty of all that here at home). I can’t wait. I should have more to write about when I get back. I haven’t been to Bahrain in years, since most of my Bahraini gang split up, moved on, or got married. I still can't believe my 38 year old, crazy F-16 pilot friend married an 18 year old. Dude! The only one left is a very nice body-builder type who took too many steroids and had one too many plush toys in his apartment. Hopefully, he got rid of the toys and off of the roids. If not, I can always flirt with Saudis (always good for instant ego boosting - especially when they just stand there staring at you with their mouths open).

Eid mubarak, y’all.

Quick Restaurant Note

I discovered a new place last night. I had been to their indoor restaurant before, but last night, I discovered their outdoor seating and it is very cool. The restaurant is Madrigal (2448000) in Shaab. The seating is in little tents for groups. Each tent has its own air conditioning, TV, and living-room type seats. Unfortunately, our tent was kind of hot because the AC wasn't working very well. The restaurant has a varied menu (with pictures - yeah!) with Arabic, Indian, Thai, and Chinese cuisine at very reasonable prices. They also do delivery. It was cool to see so many upscale Kuwaiti women hanging out in the tents, smoking sheesha (probably for privacy) with friends. You go, girls! :)

Gergian, Gergiaaaan….

Yesterday was gergian. Since I am neither Kuwaiti nor a child and could get away with going door-to-door singing (ok, in some neighborhoods that might actually be welcomed) and asking for sweets or money (again… in some neighborhoods….) – yesterday as a special treat I did the following: I dressed up like a ninja chick (tons of eye make-up) with my 2 girlfriends in a non-descript rental car, sporting a sign on the back window that said, "Bad Girl", and proceeded to Kout mall for coffee. Obviously, this was a stupid idea on several levels (wrong, wrong, wrong), but all 3 of us had:

1) nothing to do and were bored sh*&less,
2) were looking for a good belly laugh,
3) were in possession of a non-descript rental car, and
4) were scoping for guys.

We set out in full gear, including the proper scents (bkhoor and dayn al oud), hooker shoes, too much jewelry, etc.

We were immediately met with a delay in our plan: Some woman parked her car next to Romanian's with zero clearance; meaning it was parked up against her car without clearance for Romanian to get hers out without ripping the rear quarter panels off of both cars. I had to call my building harriss. He took one look at me and started laughing. Sheeshagirl told him that we were going to a funeral and that it wasn't funny (making me giggle even harder, but hey – you couldn't tell cause I was ninja-fied). The harriss called over a couple other guys standing there and they literally picked up the back of the other car and moved it out of the way. Very impressive.

So, we were on our way with the air conditioning on high. We got down to Kout and were only followed by 1 car. Kinda lame.

We got out and walked/shuffled into the mall. I had to pee (which is kind of difficult with all that stuff on). Then we went to have juice/coffee. We decided to sit outside to watch the dancing waters. They also had a very good oud player across the water. It was very relaxing and pretty, but damn hot and humid. It is also real hard to get a straw up one of those niqabs. I was sweating most of my eye makeup off. At Costa, we had several tables of admirers, but all of them jailbait (well, maybe not here, but way too young). We sat there for a while, getting some lame Bluetooth messages and then hit the road with "Don't Cha" by the Pussycat Girls blaring at full blast.

The height of the evening came when we saw some young boys whose car had broken down. We came to a screeching halt and stopped to ask them if they needed anything (in Arabic). They were so stunned that none of them spoke; just stared. We floored it and went home.

Another Weekend in Paradise

Wednesday night, I went with most of the gang to Gauchos. Everyone was pretty much on their best behavior. I think I am figuring out Plane Girl. I think she likes stirring up the drama where there is none. At Gaucho, she changed her seat literally 5 times. She didn’t like 2 of the chairs. That much I could figure out. One of the times, she got up, walked around the table to tell me, “Your friend (X) has stinky breath. I can’t sit next to him to eat.” I’m like, “YO! What do you want me to DO???” (Shoulda told her to go plant her ass in the parking lot.) I don’t want to hear about anybody’s stinky breath at the dinner table. Funk dat. Anyhoo, we got through that part. Then, the food literally took an hour and 15 minutes to arrive. I like the restaurant. I like the food. I like the service. I think they just had a bad night or something (however, didn’t bother to take anything off the bill or give us a discount after the wait). I’m not a nice person when I don’t get fed when I’m hungry. It isn’t pretty. Thank God that Bunny was there to calm me down and distract me (he’s got kids, so he knows what a 3 year old is like waiting to get food). Food finally arrived; I ate my baked sweet potato and all was right in my world again. The bill came and Planegirl started her quibbling (which – especially from a chick – is really just ayeb). Bobarino told her to shut up. Literally. I think she liked it. (Who’s your daddy, who’s your daddy?) They had a little flirt workin’. Bobarino’s girlfriend, Fishgirl, was on one side of him; Planegirl was on the other. Fishgirl was not impressed. I love the show.

I’ve been back here for 10 days. So far, my car has been in the shop 3 times. I’ve been trying to find a lease Trailblazer or Envoy, but they don’t have any in stock. If you know where I can get one, please let me know (amerab@gmail.com). It started giving me problems Wednesday night and back in the shop again today. BITCH!!!! Still F-ing me and taking all my money.

So after the dinner, I ‘scaped and headed with the Romanian down to a party in Fintas. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz BORING. I’m so sick of gaadat in Kuwait. “You have to come. It is going to be so much fun. There are a lot of nice looking guys…” Bullshit. There was 1 good looking guy (who wasn't 12 years old) and he was drunk and sitting with a ho (who later changed from her slutsuit into an actual belly dancing costume and wiggled all over the room). I can see that in my bathroom. Not interested. The only thing that truly fascinated me was one very wiggly little girl. She looked like a pixy or something – like Tinkerbell. I’ve never seen anybody dance like that for so long. She was all wiggly like in a music video; Mexican jumping beans in her butt or something. Fascinating. How could she do that for 3 hours? (I only stayed that long because Romanian and her sister believe that Ramadan is the end of the world and they have to drink/party as much as they can the week before or they will die.) I sat next to a rather rotund Egyptian dentist who wouldn’t stop staring and trying to get me more “wine” (1 part red grape vinegar, 4 parts water, ice). Puhleeeeeeze! My friend, GD, kept saying, “He’s a dentist. He’s a dentist.” Hel-loooooo – BFD!!!!! (Yeah Purgy baby – that one’s for you!) I mean – do I care if he’s a dentist? Romanian’s comment was, “I don’t need a dentist. I want a plastic surgeon.” Obee kaybee.

So den Thursday night – what the hell did I do? Oh yeah. I went with Romanian back to Sakura for sushi. I saw a guy who I used to work with and his wife. He actually moved their seats so they could sit directly in front of us at the tepanyaki table. It would have been ok if I had been close to the guy when I worked there or he was a friend (he's neither), but I just found it kind of weird that he would move his poor wife so he was sitting opposite my cleavage. His wife was a sweetheart. Very nice woman with an icky-breaststs-ogling husband. We went upstairs for coffee to “I Am Zee Man” (as I call it). We both got quite a few bluetooth messages – some of them pretty creative/funny. A table of mens next to us sent us some birthday cake (cake is always a good move in my books). Went home.

Now yesterday was fun. MuslimArtist threw a shindig at her auntie’s chalet (which is worthy of “Cribs”). Damn, it was a beautiful place. Minimalist furnishings and very elegant. By the way, MA, I got a look at the plates in the kitchen and they are so pretty; everything went together so well. The food was awesome. MA can cooks some vittles! Jumbo shrimp and Bobarino marinated some chicken breasts (breasts – go figure). We had some laughs and some food and then went swimming in the sea (not the ba-mungous indoor pool). MA picked up a whole bunch of sand dollars (MURDERER!), which I have never seen live in Kuwait. Romanian actually got on the jet ski with Salongirl and her hubby, T. She didn’t put down her cigarette or ask anyone to hold her Armani sunglasses – both were lost in the Big Jetski Spill. I kinda forgot that Romanian doesn’t know how to swim or I wouldn’t have been laughing my ass off (so much). Even Desertdawg was swimming in her florescent pink doggy life vest (she is so small that it is too much on her little heart to swim out in the water). MA’s aunt’s big-fat-dog, Laser, was also swimming effortlessly. It was the first time that I’ve ever seen Desertdawg actually even remotely try to be nice to another dog. I was shocked. She’s usually such a bitch (gets all snarly and snappy – don’t know where she gets that). Everything about the day was right: nice weather, great company, yummy food. No mens for me, but I am almost to the point where I am used to that now.

Can you believe it is October 1 already? Where is this year going and what tha fuuu have I accomplished???

“God has no mercy on one who has no mercy on others."

Ok, serious post. I am disgusted to the point of nausea over this one, so I have to share it, so that I'm not the only one.

I've seen 2 articles in the Arab Times over the past several days placed by the IVH. I am glad they brought it to the public's attention - so maybe something can be done about it in however a small way.

One of the 2 articles (and photos) on the first day was about "Murphy" - a medium sized white dog who was found (actually walked up to some people and seemed to ask for help) with no ears. Why didn't he have ears? Because they cut dogs ears off in preparation for dog fighting. Dog fighting is common in Kuwait and the authorities do nothing about it.

I use extreme caution whenever I have Desert Dawg outside in Kuwait because dogs are often stolen and can be used to "train" dogs that are fighting. They tape the bait-dog's muzzle and allow the training fight dog to attack the defenseless animal; often gnawing on it until it dies of its wounds. It is then thrown out to die.

The second story I saw (again with photo) was about Schultz - what appeared to be a close-to-purebred German Shephard dog. Schultz was found running alone in the desert - with his eyes glued shut. This one actually made me vomit. I actually screamed at my desk in my office.

I got no sleep last night because I relayed the story to a Kuwaiti friend who told me that gluing a dogs eyes shut and leaving it to die in the desert is some form of black magic ritual. I've known people who have practiced magic and this form of cruelty must be satanic worship because I've never heard of anything so evil. (Pagan/witchcraft 'Threefold Law' states that anything that you do will be returned to you three times stronger. harm or manipulate another person through black magic or any form of evil, you will pay for it by having the evil return to you threefold. By the same token, whenever you do something positive or good (such as healing or helping spell), it will result in threefold good karma instantly returned to you.)

By the way, both of these dogs are beautiful and IVH has them up for adoption. I am going to see how much it costs to have them flown to a rescue league in another country because they deserve better than being here.

(I deleted this paragraph. I couldn't handle it.)

Sometimes the only sollace I can gather from these acts is that God will punish the demons (I wouldn't consider them human) who commit these acts of cruelty and hatred. Mutate their children. Cause them intollerable pain through sickness and extreme misfortune. Curse their future generations.

Obviously, the only religion these monsters have is devil worship. If they are committing these acts against animals - they are likely to do it to humans.

How Did This Happen?

Here's what I want to know: What tha fuuuuuu am I doing here? I remember getting on a plane, saying goodbye to my family and friends, buying some crap at the airport … then landing here in some kind of a daze like 17 hours later.

I vaguely recall a Kuwaiti woman sitting next to me talking non-stop from Paris to Kuwait while drinking both red wine and bloody marys until I just gave up and fell asleep while she was still in mid-sentence. (We are sisters-in-sin now. I love making new friends.)

Bunny, Bobarino, and fish girl showed up to greet me at the airport. My friend, AK, from customs also showed up out of nowhere, which I thought was pretty cool – right at the appropriate time. No sweating was necessary. At the airport – either arriving or departing – seems like the only time I get to see Bunny anymore. Probably because it is a nostalgic occurrence for him since we fell in love after a rather long time apart and had a heated homecoming (I digress). Naz, the new Mrs. Naz (that's a whole 'nother story) met me at my place with an enormous bouquet of flowers and cake (that is SO cool and I will have to remember to do that for someone sometime).

I looked around my apartment (covered in dust), and thought, "What tha fuuuuuuu?". Where is the wide screen? Where are the big dogs? Where tha fuuuu is the wine? What tha fuuuu is that smell? (Kuwait, actually.) What the hell is that noise (Kuwait construction).

Desert Dawg arrived about an hour later and I was shocked at her condition. She stays with a very nice Indian family who usually takes amazing care of her. I don't know what happened this time, but her fur was completely matted to the point where I actually took out my sharpest scissors and got to work even before I could make a grooming appointment for her. She couldn't move her neck because the snarls were so bad. I almost cried.

I couldn't sleep much that night. I called my family. I puttered around the apartment like a ghost. I watched the sun rise (which, if any of you REALLY know me – you know is a miracle because usually even a nuclear blast can't wake me up that early).

I made an appointment for Desert Dawg the next morning to get groomed at IVH. It is a long trip down there from Salmiya. Guess what wasn't working in my car? The frickin air conditioning! (I sold the discovery to an Indian friend for 300kd after the last time the head gasket blew – making that particular repair a third-time-you're-out offense). It was a long, hot drive down there. Desert Dawg got shorn like a sheep (and looked kindof like one too). She's much happier.

This past weekend was kind-of a blur for me. You can probably glean more details about if from reading MuslimArtist's blog. Wednesday night, we went to Sakura. I invited the girl from the plane (Planegirl). Brazillian and Farmboy were next door at Nokatha with Sheeshagirl and their Brazillian friends. Sheeshagirl and I have had a falling out of sorts (she LIES!!!) and so I hadn't seen her/talked to her in months of a long time. After a lot of sushi and laughing, we moved over to Nokatha (thank God – private rooms in both places to avoid the inevitable embarrassment) and had coffee and cake remains.

I don't know why I just don't rent a permanent room at the Crowne Plaza because I'm there all the time anyways.

Don't ask me what happened on Thursday because I don't remember anything. Total blank. Oh yeah – I slept all day. That's why.

Friday, we were all back at Sakura (thank God for the discount card), eating sushi buffet. Planegirl, Romaniangirl, and I stayed at the CP for 7 whole entire hours. Bobarino left at around 5. Planegirl, I discovered, is very princessy. She complained about everything. She sent food/drinks back. She also did one thing that I absolutely hate – squibbled over the bill. She wanted the waiter to explain every little thing. Oh – that is one of my worse fears. It is food. Pay the frickin bill and don't make us look cheap. I HATE that. I mustav gotten that from my father. Anyways, Planegirl is very nice, but the nit-picky side of her is irking me too soon in our friendship. When did I get so picky? No, screw that: why can't I have normal friends – is more like it.

Last night, some of us went out for coffee and it was very nice. My excuse for going out to eat so much is that Ramadan is coming and everybody will be busy then. Well, not the foreigners, but our Kuwaiti friends. Good excuse, though. I like it.

All the guys (you know who you are) who were calling me while I was in the US, sending me e-mails, telling me how much they missed me…. Have DISAPPEARED now that I'm back in Kuwait. What tha fuuuuuuuuuuuu?? What IS it about Kuwait? One guy has been practically begging to see me; pouring his soul out to me through e-mails – and NOW, dude is too busy to even talk to me on the phone. He is typical of the man Lulu Al-Bader describes in her article in this month's Bazaar, titled, "Please Impress Me". E-mail dude represents Lulu's Pigeonhole #4: The Workaholic Poser – a Walking Contradiction. I frickin LOVED her article. You go, girl!

This Feels Weird

I know, I know - it has been a long time, right? I'm still on vacation until the day-after-tomorrow when I get on the plane and get back to Kuwait. It feels so weird. It feels like it has been a very short vacation and a very long one at the same time. I don't want to leave here. The minute I get here, I start worrying about leaving. I should be enjoying myself. One day, I am going to have to make the move back here. How much more sheeet needs to happen to me before I do it?

However, should I remain here, I would be just another blonde in a sea of blondes - nothing out of the ordinary. In the sandbox which has become my bubble, I am - as one gay Kuwaiti friend once said - "a novelty". I'm "different" (not just in the short-bus sense of the word): I know the culture. I am part of the society now. I understand (if not sometimes speak) Arabic. We are a family in Kuwait too. I also have much better odds of short meaningful/less relationships somehow due to my surreal Arab-dar. The homeys are just not attracted to me (and vice-versa).

Friends who are reading this: Be prepared and forewarned. I am a total emotional wreck for at least a week - probably more - when I return to Kuwait after being in the States. (Flowers help a lot.)

So... let's get past the psycho-babble.

What's new here? Everybody is still talking about New Orleans. You can't go anywhere or read anything without hearing about it - still. I haven't written since hurricane Katrina hit, but I spent several weeks crying every time I turned on the TV. Like 9/11, everyone here was sitting in front of a TV - unable to pull themselves away. I found myself screaming, "Help them! Where the F is our government????" So many stories. Talk about a polarization of a nation; once again the lines were drawn. My sister's republican neighbors said that they thought the media was "sensationalizing what's happening down there." How could it be sensationalized? Hel-loooooo! Some of them didn't want to send charity. How disgusting. I still can't believe what went on. Where the hell is this nation's compassion? Okay, maybe average citizens are compassionate, but the goverment is complacent. And yes, people, it was all about color and class. Horrible and shameful. It makes me physically sick.

Ray Nagin - keep on with your bad self! More diplomatic, my ass. He told it like it was.

Kudos to the Kuwaiti government for sending aid. Kudos to MTC and NBK for sending me the SMS I received here in the States, asking their customers to send help to the victims. Kudos to my father's friend, Courtney, for taking the time to fill an entire van full of supplies for animals and driving it to New Orleans to donate to shelters. Kudos to my sister who collected and shipped boxes to shelters to aid victims. Kudos to that unnamed lady who drove by the DC Armory (shelter for some of the evacuees) who saw that a woman didn't have shoes; she got out of her car in traffic, removed her shoes, gave them to the woman, and got back into her car barefoot and drove away.

Then, there was the September 11th anniversary. I watched a movie on Flight 93 and sobbed for 2 hours. Used an entire box of kleenex having my own personal boo-hoo party of one. I don't care if it is 50 years down the road and (if, God willing, I'm still around) I'm still seeing the footage on TV, I will still loose it the very same way.

I found it interesting that around September 14th, the Saudi government had an enormous color insert (about 8 pages) most likely trying to promote better relations between Saudi Arabia and the US. (Probably in poor taste), there was a 2-page ad for Binladen Construction included.

I bitch. (Noun or verb - you choose.)

I am teaching my 11 year old nefew to read tarot cards. He's totally into it and I love it. I think he's got a gift for it and he is already really good at it. Makes me so proud. He asked me if his mother and I used to "practice the dark arts." Wrong, wrong, wrong. There is nothing dark about it. It all depends on your perspective and how you work it.

I can't believe how much money I spent while I was here and what nonsensical crap I am schlepping back to Kuwait with me in 3 enormous suitcases. I am a shopping hog. What I see, I must posess. It is so bad. I know it is pshychological and correlates directly with feelings of insecurity. My brother in law gets a big kick from my shopping. I feel like I'm married to him - only in the sense that I get really guilty when he is in the house and I come back with bags full of loot. I usually try to dodge him or wait till his car isn't in the garage before taking things up to my room and disposing of the shopping bags. This, girls, is why I am single; and yet the guilt persists.

My dad said something to me the other day vaguely along the lines of "Why I'm Still a Spinster." I'm like, 'Dad, it's like this: I like to put my shit down and know that no one is going to move it. If I eat over the sink, so be it. If I come home late, no one complains. I don't hear complaining.' He responded with, "Oh yeah. I forgot all the things I hated about being with Elly (The Stepmother)." LOL. At least he doesn't believe that I'm a lesbian anymore.

Some random thoughts on things I will miss here: My family, bien sur. Getting advise from my sister from everything from what pants make my butt look big to what work choice I should make. Palling around with my mom and going to restaurants no one else wants to go to with me (like Ethiopian). Being here for Halloween and Autumn. Watching my nefew kick ass at hockey this season. Driving to Target with the top down (the car top, that is). Getting to the house by 5:00 to feed corn to the deer. French martinis. Eating dinner on the porch or next to the pool. My sister's cooking. Aflac, the white duck, who lives on the lake in front of my mother's house. Big dogs in the house who (at 120 lbs each) want to sit on my lap when they know they're not allowed on the sofa. Butterflies. Green everything. Gorgeous sunsets. New episodes of CSI and some of the new TV series. The way the clothes smell after they have been washed. Availability of good leather shoes and cosmetics.

What I won't miss here: Filling up the car for $85. (Gas just went down to around $2.80 a gallon from $3.17.)

Some years when I come here, I see all my friends. Some years, like this one, I don't get to it. I felt like I was in a daze this entire trip. I only wanted to be around my family - even if it meant just being in the same room with them and staring at them. As I told my sister, "It is kindof like when you first start dating someone you really, really like. The hours you spend with them are profoundly important. You count them. You covet them. You can't help yourself - even if you know that it might be suffocating the other person and you don't know why you are doing it." Okay - that's how I feel about being around my family for the past month. I haven't really wanted to do anything different. When I'm out doing stupid things like shopping, I feel like I need to be back at the house.

I really owe my friends here, big time. I have been so bad at maintaining my friendships with them, but... here is something that irks me: When I come back to the States, I am the one who has to run around and go to see my friends; they never come to my house to see me. So, I end up driving all over the place to get to them. I don't want to leave the bubble area. We stay in the bubble. We dine inside the bubble. I don't like to stray too far now from the bubble. :) Alas, my friendships have suffered.

There was a gorgeous moon out tonight. We drove by our old family house in DC. My father sold it years ago, but it is where I grew up and got into my best mischief in. It is where Shamlan came to sneak me out of the house in the middle of the night with his car parked down the street when I was a teenager. It was where my aunt would stay up watching Johnny Carson and smoking until late at night; until finally, she and her dachshound would trudge up the creaky staircase to bed. The house always smelled of southern fried foods and cigarettes. I miss those days. I have a lot of memories in that house. It looked so much smaller tonight.

I have approximately 2 more days here. I probably won't get any sleep. This is a weird, funky mood I'm in and I don't like it one bit.

Reflections

Everything is so green and pretty here. Oh... why can't Kuwait be like this? I've seen some seriously beautiful sunsets since I've been here. We were driving back from the beach one night and the sky was bright orange and turquois blue. Then, within a few minutes, it had turned to bright pink as we drove across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. It turned the water pink. Absolutely gorgeous. I don't think I've seen a sunset like that since Hawaii a very long time ago.

My older sister is here now from the foreign country of Texas. We 3 sisters are leaving to California the day after tomorrow. It will be the first time all 3 of us have ever gotten together to do something alone without other family members around. The other night, we were turned onto French martinis and now I'm hooked. Yummmmmmmmmmm. I'm still loyal to my longtime friend and companion, Mr. Jose Cuervo, yet I like this new friend a whole lot. There are different variations on how to make a French martini. The one I like is vanilla Absolute, Chambord, and pinapple juice.

I went to visit the building where Shamlan used to live above the Iwo Jima memorial. He sent me an amazing sign just as I was turning to leave and I felt like he was with me. There isn't a day that I don't wake up and say his name - usually in that place between asleep and awake. Where does all the time go? When you think that the best times are yet to come, sometimes you realize that at that very moment, it probably was the best time. I guess you dont' figure that out until you are older and start wondering: why the hell was I so stupid? :) Shamlan used to wear Hallston cologne way back in the day. I bought some at Target so I could remember what he smelled like. I just wear a little before I sleep and hope to catch a glimse of him in a dream.

Anyways, I am loving spending time with my family. I should be enjoying every single happy moment and yet I am anxious - especially at night - thinking about the time when I will leave to go back. I wish that I could fit into this world again, but I just don't know if I ever can. I feel like a fish out of water.

Our coffee boy at work sent me an e-mail the other day saying that he missed me. It must be pretty quiet around the office without me. One thing is for sure: You never forget the crazy people.

I've had some completely unexpected calls from friends in Kuwait that I hadn't heard from in a long time while I've been here. It is almost like they knew I wasn't there and wanted to call to pull me back into the fold. These particular people, I didn't tell that I was leaving. I've had 4 people call me out of the blue and tell me how important I am to them and how much they needed to talk to me when I got back about different things - mostly just for comfort talks.

One particular guy, a TV newscaster, has just not been that into me. He sends me SMSs, but rarely picks up the phone when I call him. "Very busy" as he says. 'Just not that into me' as most of my friends (MA) say. I haven't seen him in close to a year. At any rate, we talked on the phone and he will be in New York this week while I'm in California. He said he might get to Virginia when I get back. Interesting.

I've been looking at my old photo albums of friends I am still close to (for many, many moons). It is funny to see pictures of the guys with then-gorgeous full heads of hair; now bald! I've changed "a little" since those days as well.

I continue to meet incredibly nice people through this blog. This week, I talked to a lady who wrote to ask my advice and I hope we will be good friends. It never ceases to amaze me how you can touch other people's lives and the affect that you/they have.

I thought it was hot in Kuwait!

I had a rather uneventful trip to Virginia via Air France (except for the African ladies with gastrointestinal problems). Thank God I didn't take my usual trip via Briddish Airways. I can't believe so many people are stranded. My freinds brother left today for Dallas on BA with a business class ticket for he and his wife and BA called him and told him to bring his own food with him. How pissed off would YOU be if you just plunked down that kinda money and were told to bring tha munchies. Shame on them.

Anyhoo (Purgatory), I arrived here only to find out that it is hotter than Hell (and Kuwait and/or one in the same depending on your perspective). The humidddddidity is around 90% and it is around 99 degrees here. My damn hair looks like Bozo the Clown and I can't breathe. Victoria's Secret doesn't make a bra capable of withstanding both extremes of heat and humidity, and neither does any known make-up brand I am aware of. My mother told me the morning after my arrival that I "look sick" and therefore she is scheduling all kinds of appointments for me. Jeez. Can I take a shower and have a nap first?

Anyhoo, the fam is all faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabulous, except for my daddy who looks very thin and sleeps all the time. He's 81, however, so I think he should be allowed do to that at his age. The big dogs and the little dog are all fine. My sister and her husband still look like Athletic Barbie and Ken and my nefew is growing like a weed.

It is twilight now and the deer should be coming up to the fence to gnaw on grass. My sister is cooking pizza on the grill next to the pool, so I gotta go.

All said and done, however - it is weird, but I miss Kuwait.