Sunshine on the Clock Tower Dome

This is all a very random kind of post and I really couldn’t decide how I was going to title it. I decided on something related to the most positive part of my day (so far)….

This morning on my way to work, I noticed the clock tower at Seif Palace (built late 1800's/early 1900's). I have been driving by there for the past 11 years and I’ve never really paid particular attention/notice to it. Maybe this morning it was because of the way the light was hitting the gold dome – I don’t know. It was just very pretty; in a way that the Mormon temple in Maryland (I think at Bethesda) on the Beltway is at sunset with the light shining on it. The gold suddenly hits your eye and lights the path ahead. It makes you feel (for 2 nanoseconds before the next loser cuts you off) that everything is right in the world and you are exactly where you are supposed to be at that given moment.

Which is not where I was last night… I cooked tashreeb and broke part of my tooth. There was a little sliver of lamb bone and when I bit into it, there went part of my tooth, so I have to get it fixed. It hurts. There is an “emergency” tooth place near my building. Guess I should go there, but it reminds me that The Man took the Shedevil there in April after The Big March 23 Incident.

I don’t want to think of them (although I don’t mind thinking of him once in a while), but an unfortunate series of events lately has led me in that direction. I have met manipulative people in my life, but the Shedevil (formerly known as “Sheherazade” in previous posts) wins the grand prize. The Man thinks that I was mean to her, but he doesn’t know the whole story (how is it possible to “use” someone when they’ve asked for your help???) I’m sure that he knows deep down what transpired. I wonder now that if I had bought him a more expensive car than she did, that he would have stayed with me. BMW? Mercedes? Escalade? House in Colorado? Secure future? 7,000 kd cash…. What is the price? Name that lucky number.

Is that love?

Similar theme, different story…

The Romanian had a boyfriend for many years who she loved deeply (at one point until she figured him out). Nawaf always said that he wanted to marry a rich, submissive woman. Romanian isn’t either. He drove up in his new Jaguar this week to tell her how much he loves her, how badly he wants to have sex with her, and to tell her all about his new, rich stay-at-home wife. He married the perfect woman: wealthy, submissive, and willing to “take care of the home” while he is outside doing whateverthehell he wants (safe or unsafe sex?).

And on that note – doesn’t anyone have any idea that the rate of AIDS cases is increasing in Kuwait? There are something like 6,000 reported cases (last I heard). Does anyone have a figure on the latest statistics?

I don’t understand why women put up with it. Are these women (in this case, Kuwaiti) so desperate to get (and stay) married that they don’t care that their husbands cheat and “make” them stay at home while they are out on the prowl (potentially contracting Godknowswhat)? Is it so much better just to have a man around once in a while (late at night to sleep with); to cook for; to clean up after? (Why not just take a job as a maid/nanny and get paid for it; rather than paying someone else?) I could understand it more if these guys were marrying young girls who hold a rosy picture of what marriage is supposed to be – stand by your man and all that crap. In the cases I know of recently, the women are older and divorced.

It isn’t even that they are counting on the man for support. Au contraire – Dudes are benefiting rather than the other way around.

Maybe I’m not married because I have always felt it better to be my own person and to live my life without allowing someone to “control” me (not that I would stay very long with someone who tried). I don’t want anyone to abuse my trust or my intelligence. If I am in a relationship and suddenly realize that a marriage won’t last – I don’t want to be there. Bada bing.

Yesterday morning, a bird on my windowsill woke me up. I usually take the birds as signs or messages. I think I got one yesterday, but unfortunately, it has kind of bummed me out. “Perhaps something doesn’t happen TO you, but FOR you.”…

I’ve been going through kindof a melancholy phase. I don’t know why. Nothing has changed. My friends are still my friends. My health is still good (except for my f-ing tooth!). My job is still ok/routine. I have met new good/decent friends and a few bad people. Things are much the same, but what is it? Naz called me out of the blue last week to tell me that he feels (he’s psychic) that this is a very good period in my life when I am grounded; a good starting point for things to come. Why is it that I feel down? Very odd. Do you think that I need more chocolate in my diet? I do. Maybe I need to go shoe shopping again (although I just bought a kickass pair of purple shoes that ROCK).

This is all very deep, isn’t it? On to something totally different.

BTW – my very favorite pair of shoes is the Dolce & Gabbana pair that Slapperella bought first at Villa Moda. They were expensive, but damn I’m worth it.

I know I’m a total loser, but I just discovered Facebook (no, not because of the article in Bazaar because I “discovered” it 2 days before). I used to think of myself as relatively computer-savy, but alas there are things that I’m just not connected to yet. I have a whole new world now on Facebook. No wonder so many people get in trouble for playing on it all day (like my sisters’ employees, for example).

Ok another thing I’m retarded about – is there any way to get around the thing on iTunes that doesn’t allow users in Kuwait to download? Proxy bypass?

As a little side note: I went to the Ramadan tent at the new Movenpick Hotel at Bidaa for a subsidiary’s gabka. WOW. I love the place. The décor of the entire hotel is amazing and the food we had on the buffet was outstanding. The tent was on the beach, facing the water. The back of the tent opened up to the pools with torch-lit pathways (some with bridges over the pools) leading from the main building. I think if I was going to plan a wedding in Kuwait, that area would be ideal (as long as it’s not during the summer!). It is the closest to a romantic spot that I’ve seen in Kuwait.

The hotel I love the most in the GCC is the Royal Mirage in Dubai. It is built to resemble a Moroccan fort. Freakin amazin. I also love the Bustan in Oman, but it is slightly less romantic – although amazing in architecture and location (between the sea and the mountains).

One of my billionaire friends called me last week, wanting me to recruit a personal assistant for him. I immediately thought of one young woman I know who would be ideal. Unfortunately, she sometimes lets her self-confidence talk her out of things and can be a little unreliable; she re-scheduled the interview with him 2 times and on the third, he called me. “Your friend is an asshole.” Ex – e – queeeeeeeze mee??? 1) That is just frickin rude. 2) Billionnaires/millionaires/people who have a shitload of money are a pain in the ass. 3) Billionnaires/millionaires/people who have a shitload of money are almost always guaranteed to be cheapskates; 4) I don’t work for him (or the ones like him who ask me to do favors then blame me if something goes wrong). A similar incident happened in the past with another not-so-rich, but still politically-powerful friend who asked me for a favor and then called and shouted at me when it was taking longer than he had expected. In the latter case, I sent him an invoice for 200 kd for “consulting services rendered”, and haven’t heard from him since. In the former case, I am going to ask him for a big gift for being rude (I can’t really blow this person off, unfortunately).

I don’t like to swear. It’s vulgar.

If anyone out there wants a job as a PA to a billionaire asshole with 42 agencies/companies – and you can name your package/benefits – just let me know (amerab@gmail.com). The requirements are: Westernized, extremely professional appearance/demeanor, a “yes person”, pro-active, must be willing to do both office work and personal work (making appointments for his no-doubt asshole wife and kids, schoolwork, etc.); full office skills (light book keeping, filing/organization, scheduling, corresponding with subsidiary companies and customers/potential customers, possibility of proposal/invoice writing). Proficient in English; Arabic preferred. This guy will potentially take candidates from overseas and pay for their travel to Kuwait.

Having said all that random stuff above, I would like to wish you all - Muslim, Christian, Jew ... whatever - a very happy Eid. May the light always shine on your clock tower dome. :)

I’m In Love with the Zain Poster Boy

Very ZAIN. Not just a little zain, but very ZAIN.

I’ve nearly crashed my car a total of 3 times now because the Zain Poster Boy is looking longingly into my eyes. It’s not my fault. I have to slow down (and veer off in his direction) because he loves me. It is the look. I can tell! "I want you right here, right now, Desert Girl."

It isn’t just me – it is my girlfriends too.

He’s the guy with the dishtasha in the new Zain ads on all the street signs. Those advertising agencies should really be more careful about their content as the posters may distract drivers. This particular one has eyes that follow you wherever you go.

Anyhoo, I had a similar infatuation (although never this bad) with the Nivea Poster Boy and the Guy With The (F) Me Eyes who was running for political office during the last election. Don’t ask me what his name was or what he was running for because I’m an illiterate foreigner and I can’t read Arabic.

My girlfriends and I all agree, of course, that fantasy is much better than reality in most cases and that these guys probably have voices like pre-teen girls or that they are effeminate in other ways or that they are most likely just totally unacceptable, but hey….

THEY ARE FUN TO LOOK AT.



PS - I just checked out Zain's website and he's not there, but holy shit - Saad Barrak shaved his moustache!

Conspiracy Theories and Other Bullshit

I have one of those faces: People innately feel that they can tell me everything and anything. Call it a gift; call it a curse. They just talk to me. I’m a spontaneous therapist/psychologist (emphasis on “psycho”).

Recently, the trend has been conspiracy theories. I have no doctor/patient privilege which limits my ethical ability to discuss these issues in public: ergo the post.

“Masons secretly rule the world.” Oooooootay. “It is not the Israelis or Americans who rule the world – it is the Free Masons.” Admittedly, I know nothing about the Masons – other than they have a really cool temple/building in Alexandria where Shamlan and I used go to make out. It overlooks the Potomac and usually has a gorgeous sunset in the background. I also had a friend, Ray, where I used to work who was a Mason. He didn’t count because he was weird. Anyhoo, the guy who walked into my office (Palestinian) spent a total of two hours talking about how Masons secretly rule the world. I really thought that he was going to voice an Israeli/Zionist approach to conspiracy, but why the Masons? I think he read some books. This is not an issue that has “stuck in my craw”, so I’m not going to do any further research cause I just don’t care. I didn’t even think that this particular person even liked me (maybe he doesn’t?) so why did he vent his theories? “Do you know they have secret handshakes?” (taking my hand and basically giving me the same limp-wristed tweek that I’ve had a million times from arrogant people who don’t know how to conduct proper business). On another note - do you think Bush is a Mason? Hmmmmmmmmmm. Maybe this guy thought I was a closet Mason/CIA agent who might get his message back to The Powers….

“Several large (merchant) families in Kuwait have a plan to eliminate the power of the royal family and create only two classes in Kuwait: the very rich and the labor force.” Therefore, this particular dude is intent on NOT being a laborer and making himself uber rich (through a scheme). Oh No! Oh nooooo! I can’t become a commoner! “Haven’t you noticed that everyone in Kuwait drives the same cars? You can’t tell who is low class and who is high class. They want to change all of that.“ (There goes the mid-sized car market in Kuwait! The Caprice will be a thing of the past….) Well, it’s like this: The richest person on our block in the States owns 22 homes around the world. They can have anything and do anything. And yet, they still drive a 1989 GMC Jimmy. Figure that one out. Is dude labor or uber rich? Does it phucking matter? Dude also predicted that “all those Bedouins in power will just be used as laborers”. Iiiiiinteresting. This conspiracy theory doesn’t make much sense to me – at all – because the same group of Kuwaiti merchant families have been making big bucks for forever. So what? More power to ‘em. Hey – call me a laborer, I don’t care. Jimmy crack corn.


I have some conspiracy theories of my own. Like, for example the white painted lines on the roads around Kuwait: Have y'alls noticed how recently, there are a lot of roads without white lines denoting lanes? The white lines are missing all over Kuwait. My theory is that someone (same folks who have dug up my street 5 times) is stockpiling white line paint in a warehouse somewhere and they are planning to sell it back to the Government for 100 kd per drum. On the BEST days in Kuwait, most people here can't drive inside the lanes and now they take all the lane markers away?

Gotta go. I have another patient.

Random Views

Things That Make Ya Go.... WTF!

Ok, there are a lot of things that irk me, but these are some random irkdoms. And I haven’t even been back from vacation that long. This is a bad sign.

People who come to my door asking for handouts. I am actually very happy to help people because my philosophy is that you never know where angels may appear and I never want to intentionally turn away. However; there are several issues I have with people who do this and their approach. 1) Beggars: Clearly state your case. There is a woman from Sri Lanka who has shown up on my doorstep a total of EIGHT times asking for my help. I ask her, ‘How can I help you? Money? Assistance?’ She mumbles. She rambles. She tells me a story in a language that I just don’t understand. Each time, she goes away and I have absolutely no clue what she wants me to do. And she keeps coming back! 2) Manners! If I give someone money, don’t you think that they should at least say “Please” and “Thank you”? I mean – WTF! Am I “International Bank of Desert Girl” or what? Is this some kind of entitlement thing that they think they just deserve it so don’t even have to look me in the eye? I’m not a freakin ATM. I’m huuuuuuuman!

Stop ringing my damn doorbell at 8 am on weekends!!! I don't drink Pepsi!!!!

Those nasty kids who scream outside all night. I am sure they are lovely little urchins, but I lie in bed at night dreaming of their demises. IF even one of them should get close to range, I am so going to water-balloon them. (I haven’t seen a decent potato gun online in a long time.) Don’t these imps have parents? Where are the perves and kidnappers when you need them? Are they all in Hawalli? (Ok, that was totally mean and uncalled for – most especially during Ramadan. I’m going to Hell. Let’s proceed…)

My neighbors who slam their door. Again, I have morbid delusions. Why can’t they just shut the door nicely? Does anybody know who I can call to have one of those sound-proof doors made; you know – the ones you find in all the phuck flats around Kuwait? (Not that I’ve ever been in one, right?) You find those kinds of doors when you go to gaadat and they have them so no one can hear from outside. The best one I’ve ever seen was at an apartment in Rihab complex that was like a vault door with carpeting on one side and that was about 4 inches thick. (I think they were some parliament guys or something and could afford a FF with an awesome soundproofed door.) I need that kind of door or I may have to do bodily harm to my neighbors.

I am trying to be a nicer person. Really. I am.

Dumpster in the middle of my street. Again, a “WTF” moment…. The building at the end of my street was completed recently. Tenants have moved in. It is pretty. However, I guess the building management still believes that it is under construction because they have left the enormous metal trash thingy in the middle of the street. WHYYYY? I feel like I’m living in Amghara.

The delivery guys from ARAMEX. Dudes, me customer, you delivery dudes. It isn’t all about YOUR schedule. These guys don’t seem to realize that many people like me actually have full time jobs and spend very little time at home. I don’t have a khadama full time. I don’t want one. What I want is my damn clothes from Spiegel online delivered. Can’t they just call first? And, why is it that most of their delivery guys feel it necessary to write stuff on my walls outside my apartment (like graffiti for delivery guys – noting in their own personalized way that they have been there)? I had this problem previously with Pizza Hut. Why do they do that? Is it like a dog peeing on his territory? Again, am I living in Amghara?

The pump for the Big Hole next to my building. ONE year ago, after the Big Dig for the Big Hole that is to be a new apartment building next to my window, they installed a pump (to suck out the water that might be under the hole?) with the promise that they would remove it in 30 days. I was there when 4 Indian guys appeared to install the thing -- right NEXT to my car. Since then, it has been ca-chunking along all day and all night. It has broken down several times - spewing a combination of motor oil and some kind of smelly fuel - which ended up in a stream that ran under my car and down my street (yes, the one with the garbage container in the middle of it). My building hariss didn't seem to believe that it was a big deal that fumes may have caused a chain-reaction explosion (of vehicles - starting with mine and continuing around the block). No one has seemed to minded that the RIVER of oil has been left on the ground for 5 months now. Everything in my apartment is white. I have to be extra careful not to step in the muck. Why don't they clean it up??? Why don't they take the phucking pump thingy away? Who do I call? Nobody cares.

Otay, that’s enough bitching for today (maybe not, but I’ll do the rest later at sushi with The Romanian).

Slapperella gets home tonight from Ethiopia. Yippeeeeeee! I wonder if she got married… hmmm. Interesting.

Maybe with both of my best friends around, I won’t find it necessary to bitch as much. Yeah, right. Bitch bitch bitch shop shop bitch shop bitch bitch bitch eat sushi (at which point, everything is okay in the world for a while).

News from Lethargia

I went to a baby birth celebration at iftar over the weekend. I ran around all day yesterday looking for a gift (EVERYTHING was closed! ARGH). I finally found a gold shop in Hawalli that was open and bought something cute. I dressed like myself (t-shirt, trousers) and I should have dressed more conservatively knowing that I would be in a room full of conservative, abaya-clad Ramadan well-wishers (even though it was mixed). Alas, I’m an idiot. I sat alone for a long time (since The Romanian and Slaperella were still out of town) until the place filled up. Out of a ballroom full of people (about 200), I couldn’t believe that I was the only person who brought a gift. Is that normal?? Wouldn’t other people bring gifts? I don’t get it. In my mother’s world, you get an invitation, you bring a gift. Its simple.

I made the tremendous mistake of going to Lulu Hypermarket (that name just cracks me up) on a Friday afternoon before ftour. Let me just say, the shoppers there seem to be hyper – running around like a bunch of ants on a discarded cookie. I turned right around (once I discovered that they are open all day and through iftar time) and went back at 5:30. Lulu’s has way better produce than most places in Kuwait. (Sultan Center’s produce has been sucky for a long time; and Lulu still beats City Centers.) Lulu’s has Asian produce and stuff that I haven’t seen other places. I’m almost tempted to cook something. HA! As if. It is almost worth the drive out 4th Ring Rd and around the multiple ethnicities in the parking lot to shop at Lulu. I can’t say much about the prices because I’m one of those “Oh, just throw it in the cart,” kind of girls. The only time I really threw a fit over the price of an item was at Sultan Center when they were charging 1 kd for a 10-stick pack of Ice Breakers gum (from the States). Now that thar is just a bunch of hooey (as my aunt Virginia used to say).

I brought food to The Romanians because she returned this morning (THANK GOD, YIPPEE!) and I was sure she wouldn’t have anything in the house. As it turned out, one of our Kuwaiti friends was there with her boyfriend (apparently, she has the key and made herself quite at home). Thank God, I knocked first. I don’t need those kind of surprises. Puuuurty hailag if you ask me. Bless her heart.

Anyhoo, I picked up The Romanian and her son at the airport this morning and returned Tinkerbell into her care. I am going to miss that little dog; even though I was scared to kill her by rolling over her in my sleep. I am so glad one of the girls is back. Now I can finally have some decent sushi/conversation. I’ve been talking to myself lately. Not fun. People are staring at me even more than usual.

The embassy just called and said that my passport is ready for pick up. I’m really impressed. I dropped it off there about 10 days ago and it is finished already. Passport renewals in the States are taking up to 6 months; because now you need a passport to get into Canada and there are backlogs. I hate going to the UASS embassy, though: Too much republican-induced pucker factor. I have to say, though, that things are starting to change. I met the new FEMALE Commercial Affairs Counselor and she’s exceptionally friendly and competent. You go, girl!

Is it just me, or is this Ramadan kicking other people’s asses as well? I am so tired! I think it might be tha weathah because I can’t breathe and I’m lethargic. I’m not hungry – I just don’t feel good.

Well, okey dokey. That is about the extent of my news for now.

Name That X-Boyfriend

One of the guys in this picture is my x-boyfriend (no, I'm not kidding). Can you figure out which one? This was taken years back when a group of Kuwaiti fishermen were lost at sea for 15 days.

Mentally Stunted

(Sung to the tune of "Feelings")

Reeeee-tards

Whoa whoa whoa reeeee-TARDS...

I see stupid people... they're everywhere!

I am so sick of retarded men. No, I am serious this time (again). I am so disgusted. Is there one single man out there with an IQ above 12? I am so sick of being asked to dinner, only to find out that I AM the dinner! Don't yank my chain, buddy. I can afford to dine anywhere, anytime. I prefer to do it with someone who will share interesting conversation in a restaurant. Unless I specifically mention that I will cook for someone (highly phuckin unlikely!) in my home, then what I mean by "dinner" is the type that is purchased AND consumed in a restaurant. If you want to disappoint me by showing me that you're not a man and having me pay for my half; not a problem. But just don't disappoint me when it comes to not getting food at all because I am so NOT forgiving in that area. Once I'm set on a specific food -- its on like donkey kong.

You might be thinking to yourself, "Desert Girl, why do you even bother?" Well, THEY asked ME! It wasn't like I was begging to see someone. THEY asked ME to dinner. I guess I could just say, "No thank you. I know you are bound to be stunted."

You know - I like it much better when Slapperella, Romanian and I just go out by ourselves. I never have to worry about not getting whatever food I desire. I never feel pressured. I just enjoy myself.

When are they coming back???? I am going to die! This must be what it feels like not to have any friends. I hate this. This might possibly really be the best time to join a gym.

I'm Already Bored

The galpals are gone and now I only have the dogs to talk to. It sucks, but at the same time, maybe I'll take this as an opportunity to do house things like changing lightbulbs. I know that is a little thing, but there are other things that I just haven't gotten around to doing.



The Romanian's dog, Tinkerbell ("Tink") is staying with me and Desert Dawg. Tink has really become a character since we rescued her from the farm in Kabd this past winter. She hasn't gained a lot of weight since then -- only 1/2 a kilo, up to 2 kilos from 1.5 -- but she is a lot healthier. Desert Dawg was happy to see her again. She shows her enthusiasm by bopping her with her paw. I've had to stress to her that it is painful 'No bop Tink!'. In less than a year, Tink responds almost completely to commands in Romanian and doesn't listen to many commands in English. That's pretty impressive. I think that Desert Dawg thinks she is a pain in the ass, but she's tolerating her. Tink slept on my head last night. She has some insecurity issues. I'm glad she didn't sleep next to me because I'm scared to death I'll roll over and kill her!

Yesterday, I saw a familiar-looking face. He was walking by in the opposite direction, talking on his mobile. He said hello immediately and so did I and we both kept walking. I knew I knew him from someplace - I just didn't know where. I saw him at a camp in Mutlaa ten years ago. We spent the entire day looking at eachother and smiling (because the family that was hosting the lunch was bedu and it wouldn't have been cool to walk over and talk). I remember he was talking to someone about falcons and that he had hurt his back somehow, so he didn't get up from where he was for most of the afternoon. He was wearing a farwa and drinking tea. Isn't that weird how you can remember someone in detail from one lovely day a long time ago? I'm so surprised that I remembered him because I usually have a terrible memory of faces.

I'm glad it is almost Ramadan. I love Ramadan in Kuwait. Plus, I have 2 friends who supply me with different foods I love from home; tashreeb and gaymat. I always call them specifically to get it. I don't understand why a lot of American people I know hate Ramadan. I always totally enjoy myself. It is kind of that spirit of community and sharing in a holiday that you have on Christmas - only it lasts for a whole month. I haven't fasted for a looooooooooooong time, but to me - either way, it is no big deal that you can't go out and have something in public.

Prison Bitches

I'm back in Kuwait. That doesn't make ME a prison bitch, however; although technically, I can see how you might interpret it that way.... Please read on...

My two best friends are travelling (Romanian in Romania and Slapperella in Ethiopia) and my other friend who usually calls me every day (a Kuwaiti guy who shall remain nameless) is in the central prison for a while. Bunny isn't even around because he has been so busy lately and now he has the flu. What is a girl to do? I'm all alone (sniffle, whimper) and feeling very unloved.

What I need is a big, strong man to take care of me (oh, get over it Desert Girl -- we have heard THAT line before!)

Jailbird has been calling me to ask ME if I need anything. I feel so bad for him and I'm constantly giving him jail-advice like "Don't drop the soap." "Sleep with your back to the wall." He'll be out soon. Something minor. I don't know many people who've ever been to jail except for my cousin who is a prison nurse (I think she likes all the captive men)....

Anyhow, since I've been back, I've decided that much of the stuff I have acquired in my life here is useless trash that should be thrown out. So, I started with the kitchen, then the storage rooms, then the guest bedroom.... I'm giving shit away like I would get a tax refund for it or something. I don't know what's wrong with me. I've just decided its all crap and it has to go. So, I'm sorry, The Man, but your sheesha went to Khalid (my hariss) who told me to thank you very much (I thought about calling you and asking you if you wanted it, but then I'm sure that would have been misinterpreted too). Lots of flower vases went out.. stuff that I have been holding onto for no apparent reason - all gone.

Yes, Desert Dawg is safe. :)

I met a guy tonight because I was staring at his GORGEOUS friend and he thought I was staring at him. The gorgeous friend never once turned around to look at me, but this guy did. I gotta say, I'm not easily impressed, but I admired him for being direct: he walked right over to our table and introduced himself. It was very crowded at the restaurant and I didn't want to get his number in front of everyone and Al-Rai photographers (the paparazzi), so I asked him to meet us outside as we were just getting the bill. It took a while (and also Slaps was flirting with some guy and wanted to walk out together) and by the time we got out, he was gone. It shouldn't have upset me as much as it did, but it did. Why? Because I rarely find men here who will go after what they want and don't give a shit what other people think. He was also around my age, articulate and sounded nice. His name was Mansour and that's all I know except that he was sitting at table 22 at Burj Hamam between 9 and 11 pm. (... as Rose says to Jack in "The Titanic," "Come baaaaaaaaaaaaaack...."). I shoulda taken his number. I shoulda invited him to sit with us for a while. I shoulda, coulda, woulda.... but alas, apparently, it was not my destiny. As Slaps said, "If it is meant to be, he'll be waiting for you outside the door." And he wasn't.

Waaagif....

Something in the Wind

Something is really different. I don’t know what it is exactly, but it is just very different. Things just don’t feel the same recently and it is almost as if something is coming, but I can’t tell what it is.

I had a dream the other night and I think it must have been heaven. I was in a garden with pools of water and streams. It was at night and there were those little fairy lights everywhere (which I love), hanging over walkways and in the trees. The pools were more like ponds with grass on the banks and streams between them. I was with Shamlan in one of the pools of water. He was hugging me and I could feel how warm he was and I could smell his skin. I told him that I had loved him since I was 15 years old. He hugged me for a long time and he told me that he has loved me for as long. Most of the dreams I have of him, he is turning and going. In this dream, I knew we would stay together always and it was okay. Then, I got out of the pool I was in with him and I went to find my father and (step-mother), Elly (also deceased). They were in a building (kind of like gazebos with wood walkways in between). They were sitting with friends and there was music playing and people were laughing. Dad was wearing a bright yellow shirt. I couldn't see any faces, but I knew they were happy. The feeling I had from it was intense love. It was the best dream ever.

I have been reading a book about George Anderson who is a medium – mostly helping people with recovery from grief. I found the book in a small used book store in Reston where I always find unique inspiration. George delivers messages from peoples’ loved ones who have died. It was a very interesting look at life-after-death and how forgiveness and love play big roles (ok, not that hate would have any place there). It also reminded me to pay attention to signs and how you may overlook messages that come through.

My dad gave me a definite sign while I was there. I said, “I love you, Daddy” just as I was passing by his house. It was sunset and the sun was shining through the pink clouds in rays. A very old song came on the radio by Peggy Lee that reminds me of him, “The Way You Look Tonight.”

"Heaven's Door"

If I should go before you,

If life on earth were through;

I'll stop just inside Heaven's door,

And there I'll wait for you.

You've but to look 'cross star filled skies,

Past the moon and then beyond;

To know my leaving could never break,

This heart's undying bond.

And if you should go before me,

If your journey on earth were through;

You know I will be close behind,

I'll never be far from you.

Across the span of time and space,

This love will reach this far;

For you'll always carry a bit of my heart,

No matter where you are.

We've no way of knowing who will remain,

Or who will go on before;

But if I should go first, you'll find love there,

I'll be waiting just inside Heaven's door.

I Saw A Bear

I went to Skyline Drive in Shenandoah in Virginia with my mother. It is about 100 miles of road around and on the top of a mountain range that is all inside of a national park. It is only a 2 hour drive from DC.

I saw a lot of deer - which isn't that remarkable really since we feed the deer outside our house every night at 5:00. This year, there is a very large family of deer including a 4-point buck and 2 spotted babies. Anyhoo (back to our story), I really wanted to see a bear while we were there in the mountains and today I did: He was a pretty big black bear with the cutest ears. He walked/lumbered across the road right in front of the car. I stopped (stupid tourists) and he looked at me from the side of the road, seated in a bunch of tall ferns and weeds. He was pudgy in a kind of Winney The Pooh way, with fluffy ears. It was so cool. It is one thing to see them in a zoo, but when you are up close and they are wild and not pacing back and forth in some enclosure - it is really something else.

I'm going to my sisters beach house in Ocean City tomorrow for more crabs and just hanging out. There is usually way too much wine consumption and lots of laughs, even though I hate the drive over there through traffic.

The Romanian is in Romania for a while with capilu and her sister visiting her mom. Poor Slapperella is alone to fend for herself and I am worried about her mental health. I'll be back soon! Hang in there, girl! We'll go to Dubai and everything will be ok in the world again. I promise! Next year, you can come here with me and we can drink French martinis and look at bears and wild horses together. It will be okay!

What do you do when you don't have an ass?

Not that I have that problem. Quite the contrary, in fact. I have "junk in the trunk". My ass can even be used as a floatation device. Don't ask me how I know this, but if you do, it took place with the help of a bottle of Grey Goose and a lot of salt in the water.

The picture does not pertain to my problem, but to my no-assed friend. I’m here in the States and I just happened to run across this device that she has been searching for for the past several years - taking us through many trips to souq shaabi and various questionable "undergarment" shops throughout Kuwait. Our quest was ended when I found the “enhancing panty” by Rago in one of my mothers 4 million catalogs. (I swear, every catalog in America eventually ends up in my mothers mailbox.) This item was found in - of all weird places - a catalog for footwear (go figure!) Today, because I love my friend, I purchased the Rago Enhancing Panty. I hope that this will end her constant carrying on about how she doesn’t have an ass.

If anyone knows my circle of friends – you’ll immediately know who I’m talking about.

I’m still in Virginia. We spent a week at Corolla Light in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I think we’re going to rent the house again next year. It is huBUNGous. 3 levels and can sleep about 20 people. I've been to a lot of nice hotels before, and this house was more luxerious in many ways. The bedroom suites were enormous and the house had the most sophisticated electronics system that I've ever seen. We couldn't figure a lot of it out, unfortunately.

They have wild mustangs on the island and after a brief drive down the beach in my sisters Range Rover (which was overtaken by another no-doubt beer drinking woman in a Ford 4x), we spotted 2 different “families” of mustangs. They go down to the beach to stand together and watch the sunset. We watched as a bunch of people on a sanddune were looking at one mustang family. The stallion was trying to lead the mares and young horses out onto the beach and one Jersey-looking guy wouldn’t move; so the horse proceeded to bite dude on the ass (there seems to be an ass theme going on here, doesn’t there????). It was hilarious. We had been drinking a lot (my sober brother-in-law was driving) and this sent my sisters and I into a giggle fit.

The outer banks are amazing. The waves were really big and the beach was so clean. I love it there. I've also never been anywhere where they had so many dragon flies; and they were so big! They were like bats fling around or something. We sat on the top floor of the house every night at sunset to watch the sun go down, talk and have drinks. There was a big lighthouse behind us and the scenery couldn't have been nicer. It is the same area where the movie, "Message in a Bottle" was based.

I’m taking my mother to the mountains at Skyline Drive in Shenandoah this coming week. I haven’t been there for years. I used to go there with a Saudi guy I was dating (but that’s another story). My mom has pneumonia. She’s doing better. I hope she’ll feel ok by the time for the trip. We are going to try to go to my sister’s beach house in Ocean City after that.

I’m loving the new Mercedes. I don’t know how I am going to go back to Kuwait and drive anything else. I’ve driven a lot of fast cars, but this one blows everything else away by far. I got over my initial nervousness about driving it right after I blew a guy away in a Porche.

Other than that, I am drinking French martinis, red wine, and tequilla sunrises - and the occasional mojito (yummm). I'm shopping every day and talking to my old friends and loving the greenery.

Life is good.

Tawhore

He's been BOUGHT! Sold to the highest bidder for the price of a Tahoe.

Ode To Stupid People Everywhere

Want to hear something stupid? (Of course, Desert Girl! Why else would we read your blog?) Obey kaybee…

This weekend I’m out with the Posse (pronounce that any way you so desire). I’m walking around and a yummy tall guy was smiling at me. I met him in the school supply section and he gave me his name and number and then said, “Who is your friend?” I’m like, “My friend? What’s up with you?” (thinking dirty threesome thoughts bien sur). He said, “No, I want you to give her my number.” I’m like, “Are you stupid? Why don’t you go give her your own number? What am I – a mediator?” (Don’t even SAY that other word….!)

People never cease to amaze me. And Purgy – DAMN STRAIGHT my expectations are high. If you aim high, you achieve high. If you aim low, you generally only get low – loooooow below the belt…. (come to think of it…. that wouldn't be so terrible, right?)

This weekend was relatively a snooze fest, except for a phone call from a guy who I didn’t mention here (maybe I did?) who is traveling and I won’t get to see until September. I totally wasn’t expecting his call and I was having dinner with a business ASSociate and when I answered the call, he said, “BAYBEE! How ARE you?” I said, ‘Ssscuse me? Who is this?’ (because, alas, it could have been any number of mens… I was so glad that it was HIM). (Says me – giggling like a 5th grader). Me likes.

My dear friend, The Romanian, called a guy for the first time last night. I asked how the conversation went and she said, “He didn’t even ask me what my name was. He just asked me if I lived alone. So….. CLICK.” I love her attitude. What a dumbass. Obviously, he just wanted a booty call.

When mens ask me if I live alone, I always say, ‘I live with security.’ What exactly does that MEAN? Well, it could be my own private security detail; it could be a big aggressive attack dog; it could be a Smith & Weson; it could be a male relative… This list goes on. I don’t go into details. Why, pray tell, Desert Girl, do you answer in this strange manner? Weeeeeeeelll, it’s like this: If I tell anyone that I live alone, the next thing out of their pathetically stupid ignorant mouths is, “Uh, I’ll bring some food and a bottle and be right over.” NO DUMBASS YOU WON’T. What time is yo mama cooking lunch for me?

Oh, I had a conversation with another dumbass (there are so many)…. He is a friend-of-a-friend who likes me and who I don’t know well at all. He was calling to (I think) ask me out, but failed miserably. He said, “I live in the most expensive area of Southern Kuwait, Hadiya. I can’t go outside with women, I am a very important man. I am a lieutenant.” (oh please – WTF – not even a major!!!). I told him that I am secretly married to a very important man, who lives in Abdullah Al-Salem, I too am very important (I’m a mudeeeeera), and I can’t go outside with him either.” Had I been standing next to LoserBoy, I would have reached out and smacked him upside his irrationally small head.

Ooooooo saaaaah. Try to remain calm. 4 more days until the serenity of alcohol, greenness, and the love of my family…..

And speaking of loff….. I’m taking The Romanian on a honeymoon to Phuket. Ph-uckit. That’s right. When I didn’t get the engagement ring I wanted, did I sit and complain (yes, a little)? I bought it myself (and then felt guilty for spending so much). When that person went on my honeymoon without me, did I complain (Hell YES I DID)? I’m taking my friend. Of course, it won’t be AS romantic, but whatever. Thankfully, I don’t like wedding gowns (I don’t – seriously – I look terrible in white and the whole virginal thing just doesn’t work for me), so I don’t have to spend the money on that. I could probably do a wedding cake, however….

Its ok because I went on a honeymoon to Malaysia years ago (2002?) and before that, to Maui in Hawaii. Malaysia was because a guy friend and I won a trip on Valentine’s day at the Balls of Kuwait (towers) and we told everybody we were on our honeymoon to receive upgrades, cake, and flowers. In Maui, it wasn’t actually a honeymoon because dude was taking me there to ASK me to marry him. I’m so glad I went because I didn’t marry him and therefore I never would have had the way cool honeymoon I actually ended up with (helicopter rides, sail boating, snorkeling, room on the sea… etc.)

My life IS weird, isn’t it???

One Year

I can’t believe that it has been a year since we were just hanging out at home; saying up late and talking until I fell asleep – always before you. You would stay up and play stupid computer games or watch the news all night. Sometimes during the day, I would call you to talk more about ordinary things that were happening; or about what you were doing or where your work was taking you and who you might be tracking down. Somehow we were so well connected that I could see in my minds-eye what would happen and who the person was and how you would try to reason with them or try to comfort their families. You are in many ways a good man. We were so close. We were making plans for the future – or at least I was, as it seems (Ali and retiring to a horse farm in Colorado). I can’t believe that it has been a year since you waved goodbye to me at the airport; how I looked forward to returning and finding us together in a whole new life – one that you never intended to pursue. I was never made aware of the hidden agenda; of what was really in your mind; and how you knew I wasn’t going to be part of your life in the next 60 days that followed. I can’t believe that things changed so drastically. I can’t believe there were so many betrayals that came from so many directions.

I remember the first time you disappeared. It was raining during the 4 days and I thought my heart would stop. It was the beginning of a series of disappearances for no apparent reasons but perhaps for those of weakness and cowardice. When things become difficult or uncomfortable, it is easy for people of looser moral fiber to walk away without conscience or concern. The strong always stand their ground. I can’t believe that you never thought it would come back to affect you in some way. Regret has a way of washing over you in waves. During those first 4 days, I wrote this for you and then I took you back on day 5:

Someone broke my heart today.
I didn’t see it coming.
I was doing fine alone.
Then he came in and said all the right things
and looked at me in all the right ways;
letting me believe that we weren’t playing The Game.
It was just us.
For a short time, my feet weren’t touching the ground.
I forgot how that felt.
He was there from nowhere and it felt like he knew me.
And then he went away as fast as he came
because maybe I didn’t say the right things.
Maybe I didn’t do the right thing.
Maybe he saw me as I really am.
I forgot about The Game.
I let my armor down for a little while and he got through.
It is so much easier when you love a ghost and no one can hurt you.
I’m going to put my armor back on and
no one is going to get through no matter what.
I won’t let them.

The brief times when I’ve felt neglected or uncared for, I look around at the people who are now, and always have been here and really do love me; and I know how lucky I am to have people of quality and higher morals in my life. I make a call and someone always picks up the phone just to make sure I’m ok.

The opposite of love isn’t hate; it is indifference. Regrettably, I am not indifferent; I still grieve for the type of man that I thought you were. After a year, I still find it hard to believe that I couldn’t see who you really are.

I can’t believe it has been a year already. It feels like the good parts were only a dream.

Mack Daddies

I heard such a stupid story over the weekend that I just had to get online and share it with the world.

My friend was dating a guy for about a year and a half. They kept talking about getting married on and off, but they kept breaking up and getting back together again. Long-story-short, dude decided to marry a “traditional girl” (aka virgin) so she would think he was a God and worship him; and at the same time get along with his mommy (so cute). Last night, she calls me and tells me that dude had called her after 4 years-and-a-baby-later to get her advice. What it all boiled down to was that his wife is no good in bed (routine and not open to new things; BJs out of the question) and he was asking her what he should do. Believe dat shit?

Why are people stupid? Why don’t people think in terms of the long-run?

If sex is important to someone, don’t you think you should at least have a conversation about it with the person you are going to marry prior to making a life-long commitment? Shit, I have the conversation before I even meet the guy. And another thing, call me newfangled, but I’m sorry, I would never buy before I tried. No way. It’s like buying a car: Even if its new, you just don’t know what’s under the hood until you take it out on the road and really gun the engine.

The Romanian and I had yet another Adventure in Dating this weekend. Zzzzzzzzz snore. We went on a double-blind date with two characters ("Mo" and "Curly" apparently). All they did was talk about how terrible Bedoins and Sunnis are the entire night. Romanian and I are of the same mindset: we are all one tribe with one God. Why can’t people stop their petty prejudices and understand that? Furthermore, nobody wants to HEAR about how much some people hate others; it’s just bad.

I did glean some interesting insight into the psyche of a polygamist, however. I love to hear people’s perceptions on stuff like this. One of the guys is married to 3 women (yes, at the same time; and no, we didn’t know that). I guess he’s the Mack Daddy or something. …It must be South because North really wasn’t that happenin. Anyhoooo, he has 2 Kuwaiti wives and one Lebanese. They all live him the same house with a collective 6 children. They meet collectively every day for lunch. 2 of the women work (salon owner and lawyer), one of them doesn’t. Fascinating, isn’t it? Mack Daddy has his own floor in the house and when he wants one of the womens, he calls them up to his floor. All of this information – AND he wants to go out with The Romanian. I giggle. Whatever Viagra he’s taking wouldn’t be enough… I bet none of his other wives would install a brass pole in the bedroom....

Sidebar: WHY DON'T THEY TEACH POLE DANCING IN KUWAIT YET? It is BIG business in the fitness clubs in the US. They could make a fortune here on not only the training classes, but in sales of poles. WTF. Belly dancin' hell - I want to see a bigbooty Kuwaiti girl upside down on a pole! LOL (The particular set in this picture is US$79.99, but not strong enough to support the weight of someone hanging upside-down - I checked.) Suburban housewives all over America are doing this now. Maybe dude's wife in Paragraph 2 above should check it out. Nothin wrong with a little private pole dancing for your husband. Nothing sacreligious nosireeebob.

This was an ironic dating scenario, as it came on the same day that I received this e-mail:

Four Wives

Once upon a time there was a rich (he'd have to be) King who had four wives. He loved the 4th wife the most (proving my point, once again - that all is not equal in polygamy) and adorned her with rich robes and treated her to the finest of delicacies. He gave her nothing but the best. He also loved the 3rd wife very much and was always showing her off to neighboring kingdoms. However, he feared that one day she would leave him for another.He also loved his 2nd wife. She was his confidant and was always kind, considerate and patient with him. Whenever the King faced a problem, he could confide in her, and she would help him get through the difficult times.The King's 1st wife was a very loyal partner and had made great contributions in maintaining his wealth and kingdom. However, he did not love the first wife. Although she loved him deeply, he hardly took notice of her!

One day, the King fell ill and he knew his time was short. He thought of his luxurious life and wondered, I now have four wives with me, but when I die, I'll be all alone."Thus, he asked the 4th wife, "I have loved you the most, endowed you with the finest clothing and showered great care over you. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me company?""No way!", replied the 4th wife, and she walked away without another word. Her answer cut like a sharp knife right into his heart.The sad King then asked the 3rd wife, "I have loved you all my life. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me company?""No!", replied the 3rd wife. "Life is too good! When you die, I'm going to remarry!" His heart sank and turned cold.He then asked the 2nd wife, "I have always turned to you for help and you've always been there for me. When I die, will you follow me and keep me company?""I'm sorry, I can't help you out this time!", replied the 2nd wife. "At the very most, I can only walk with you to your grave." Her answer struck him like a bolt of lightning, and the King was devastated.Then a voice called out: "I'll go with you. I'll follow you no matter where you go." The King looked up, and there was his first wife. She was very skinny as she suffered from malnutrition and neglect. Greatly grieved, the King said, "I should have taken much better care of you when I had the chance!"

In truth, we all have the 4 wives in our lives:Our 4th wife is our body. No matter how much time and effort we lavish in making it look good, it will leave us when we die. Our 3rd wife is our possessions, status and wealth. When we die, it will all go to others. Our 2nd wife is our family and friends. No matter how much they have been there for us, the furthest they can stay by us is up to the grave. And our 1st wife is our Soul - often neglected in pursuit of wealth, power and pleasures of the world. However, our Soul is the only thing that will follow us wherever we go.

Somebody sent me this

I'm your man
And I hope I always will be
Cause to me you are the world
The sun sets in your eyes
And without you my moon won't shine
The air would be thin
The stars would never shine again
My life would be a waste
Without your sweet embrace
My chest would just be an empty space
If I ever had to live without you
Cause to me no other will do
You’re the reason I see clearly now

Desert Dawg

My goal in life is to be as good a person

as my dog already thinks I am.

She is even with me in my dreams. Believe dat.

Snapdragons

We used to have snapdragons in our garden when I was growing up in McLean. My dad would snap them on my our little fingers (my sister and I). That has ab-so-lutely nothing to do with anything….FREE ASSOCIATION….

I only have 2 more weeks and then I’m in Virginia. I can’t wait to see my family. My nephew grows so much between my visits that I hardly recognize him. He’s amazing. I love that kid/man so much. He loves all the manly things and he also likes the arts. He's just very interesting and he’s like my son without responsibility. Gotta love it.

I think I’m going to be scared to drive the new Mercedes around, but I guess I’ll get used to it. I’m so mean to cars these days since I’ve grown accustomed to driving either leased or rented vehicles. I hope I can go back to being “normal”. Slaps says, “Oh no! You can’t have a Mercedes… not the way you drive! What about speeeeeed bumps?” I’ll adjust. Really I will. Anyhoo, I want to take my mother to the mountains for a few days and I need something comfortable for my butt (refer to following paragraph).

I had a stomach flu this week and I have been staying home a lot. It made me very tired. It felt like little men jumping on my intestines. Nothing says, “I love you” more than a stool sample (so I told the lab tech). I guess she’d heard that one before (or something very similar). Go figure. I thought that they might find Alien in there or something, but nothing so dramatic (only gold flakes and rose petals): Just a little upset tummy and fever. Yes, I am accepting flowers – thanks for thinking of me.

My 27 year old is back. He is such a nice guy. I like him. He’s my boy toy. You’re only as old as the man that you feel and all that. Tee hee. I call him “Chivas”. I promised to call him more often. I am so bad about that. I should call the people I like more often. Bad, bad, bad Desert Girl!

I managed to meet some mens this week. Don’t ask me how; it has all been kind of a haze. I like the ones who follow me until I relent; the thrill of the chase – yada yada. I met 5 mens; and would only venture to go out with one of them. He’s very sweet and kind of shy (and has OMG sexy shoulders. I LOVE sexy shoulders.) and unfortunately, left immediately to the Emirates for 20 days. By the time he gets back, I’ll be gone, and alas - so probably will be the magic. The other 4 are kindof metsometz: One is too pushy; one is too crazy (although I might check him out more thoroughly because he actually has a good job/ambition); one has a voice that is way too high; and one hardly speaks at all. I know, Purgy, my expectations are way too high. So phuckin what? I can be choosy, right?

The most fun I’ve had this week with a man was my dream about the uber-rich guy who was in love with me and we were walking through our uber-beautiful new home/mansion, complete with garden and fountain and French doors painted in silver and curtains in a dusty rose chiffon. The mansion faced the mansion of friends of ours across the street…. WAKE UP!!!!!

And then I had a dream about The Man and how he was living on the 5th floor of a 7 storey building facing the sea. SHE was cooking lunch in the kitchen and had lost a lot of weight and the kids were happy to see me. The Man always looks at me and smiles in my dreams and then walks away. WTF??

Anyhoo, lunch smelled good! I love that I can smell things in my dreams. Sometimes I can feel things too – like cold and wet. Sometimes I have traveling dreams where I go to places I’ve never been before and I know where everything is. I always wake up after traveling dreams very tired. Are other people like me? 7 is supposed to be good in dreams. So are new homes and the sea and silver.

I went to a fun birthday gathering over the weekend. I thought it was for my friends’ birthday – it turned out to be her husbands. Oops. I’m an idiot. Their birthdays are only 10 days apart. Anyhooo, I got her/them gifts that could potentially cross-over to both genders; coffee mugs and bath items (only they were wrapped in pink). Yeah, that’ll work. Git er done. Think a big guy working for the Ministry of Interior likes pink? Fer sure. Well, there were a lot of intellectual types there and I was hoping that The Romanian wouldn’t be bored with the group. As it was, everyone had a great time. While Romanian was out of the room having a cigarette on the balcony (for a very long time, come to think of it, with my friends’ husband….hmmmm), during a lull in the conversation, I told the group that The Romanian is a former porn star. Discussion continued after some laughter. About an hour later, one of the most intelligent in the group walked over to The Romanian and flatly said, “So, you are a porn star?” I thought I would die giggling. She said that she felt like she was a little kid caught by the principal. He hee. Of course she really isn’t (she’s not). Noooo, no pole dancing in her history. No lap dances. No videos on Romanian latenight TV… Not her.

Slapperella just called me from Indonesia to tell me that she had discovered that I’d changed her bluetooth name to “Bigbutt4u”. It has only been 3 weeks! Why do people let me borrow their phones?

My Egyptian friend, Mona (I SO miss her reading my coffee cups in the morning!), explained that the reason why the birds are flying into my apartment and signing on my windowsill early in the morning is because they want something from me. Ok, so I got some Trill birdfood and a birdbath and started feeding them. My favorite bird, an adolescent mina bird, comes and sings songs for me right around wake-up time (ok, “hit the snooze button and turn over” time) on my bedroom windowsill. At least the mina works for food. The damn fat pigeons are pissing me off. They scare off the smaller birds; the mina, the doves, the sparrows; and they actually fight each other like cock fights to get at the food. They are all the size of small roaster chickens and don’t need the food. I can tell. Bastard rat-birds from Hell. Now, if I don’t feed the damn things; they all sit out there making a racket and tapping on my windows until I do feed them. (“Hey! Hey! Yo! Wake up and get us some damn Trill!”) I can’t win. Sometimes it is hard being Doctora Doolittle.

For all of you who read my comments on the last post, sorry for the tirade. I don’t believe I have ever received such a comment from anyone before in the history of this blog, so I went a little overboard. Que cera cera. Johnny crack corn … and all that.

And now… I shall continue on my PATH OF FUN (enlightenment/discovery/adventure).

I'm Not as Stupid as You'd Need Me to Be

I went out with the 2nd of my Tale of Two Men. (Buzzer noise) Both are out. I have no interest. He’s nice. He’s sweet and funny and intelligent, but there is no chemistry. Back to the drawing board...

I swear to God, if The Man hadn’t pulled the “cake maneuver”, I probably wouldn’t have thought much of him either, but I did. He sent me over a piece of cake when we met. It closed the deal. I’m sure he thinks that he created this maneuver, but I was actually doing this way before I met him: If there was a guy that I wanted to meet in a restaurant, I would send him a cake, or something sweet. 100% of the time, I would get the desired response.

Why is it that I constantly compare mens to past men?

Anyways, I just haven’t met anyone special in a loooooooooooooooong time. I probably have, and yet I have probably just not given them a second glance. My expectations are too high. Je suis unimpressed.

And speaking of unimpressed: The Romanian’s x-boyfriend (lived together for 6 years) is going to marry a divorced Kuwaiti with 2 kids. Why didn’t he marry The Romanian after 6 years? He flat-out told her: he wants someone weak who he can control. He doesn’t want a strong woman. He said, “Fire with fire doesn’t mix.” So she asked him, “Are you going to be faithful to her?” and of course his answer was a strong, “No.” She asked him if he would cheat on his Kuwaiti wife with her (hypothetical question because she's not REALLY a ho) and the answer was, “Yes.” WTF! People like this walk among us; they appear to be normal humans, but they are frickin schizophrenic!

The Man told me (in front of The Romanian) one time that he was afraid of me. Yeah – as in afraid that he couldn’t control me or that I wouldn’t be subservient and put up with him running around with other women. Afraid that if HE cheated, I would do something about it (and I would, and did). (While others would sit there – like a DOORMAT – and accept it all AND make dinner and wash his clothes and open their legs..... )

I’m sorry, but I don’t believe that people like this can ever be happy. They lie to the women in their lives; they lie to themselves. What kind of a life is that? How can you live, constantly looking over your shoulder to make sure your lies aren’t going to catch up to you? You have to constantly remember your lies or cover them up with more lies; and that just chips away at your soul.

You know what? I power date and I sleep well at night – knowing that I haven’t hurt anyone or lied or cheated. Ten years from now, I won’t have any lies I have to cover up; and I hope that people will still respect me. Maybe I will meet the right guy and maybe I won’t, but I’m not going to be dishonest. Life is too short for bullshit.

BADA BING

Chairholes, Perverts, and Electroshit

Sometimes coming up with cleaver catch-titles is hard. Read on... Okay, so my day so far:

Our Bengali farraj (dude who delivers beverages – “coffee boy” is just too derogatory) is catching on to my humor now. He walks in my office in the morning and says, “What would you like, Madame?” and I usually answer with something to the effect of, “A house, a Ferrari, an airplane, and some ice cream.” This morning, he immediately shot back, “I mean to DRINK.” He’s sounding just like family now! I love that.

My Chairhole (chairman) asked me to accompany him to a meeting yesterday which I really had very little to do with. In a peripheral way, I could have been included maybe in an e-mail. Anyhoo, long-story-short; had I been a flat-chested brunette, he never would have invited me to attend. All I have to do at these brilliantly-executed meetings is to sit there and smile. If I do actually have something to say, Chairhole looks at me as if I had just kicked his child or something. Jeez. I DO have an IQ… its 165. Chairhole!!! I guess he can’t see my IQ over my boobs!... I’m up heeeeeeeere.

The Tale of Two Men: The Romanian (AKA “Amoona”) and I went on a double date with one of my dilemma men last night. (Yes, I’m still in beta testing.) He is very nice, but I have concluded that he’s not my type; maybe as a friend. This was the younger of the two guys and the rich one.

Why is it that I always choose the least rich guy? My late step-mother used to say (you have to say this in a Southern accent), “Honey, it’s just as easy to marry a rich man as it is a poor one.” (Why did she end up with my dad???) Uh no. I disagree. I think that the rich ones come with a lot of extra baggage; ergo so do I because I am always wondering if he his always wondering if I’m after him for his money. I can’t relax because I don’t want to give dude the wrong impression – or, God forbid – to accept an expensive gift and worry what he will think of me. Why did my mother ingrain all these morals??? I hate that. I mean, it is pretty-much-okay to be promiscuous, as long as you don’t accept an expensive gift. That seems so irrational. Why can’t I do both? Don't worry, be happy and all that crap.

Anyhoo, I’ll let you know how things progress with #2 (who has actually moved into #1 now).

I bought cheap stuff from Electrozan.... I now refer to it as “Electroshit”. Ok, ok, ok…. I know what you are going to say: you get what you pay for. Perhaps that is true. It was in this case. Garbage in, garbage out; but I thought it would at least last for a week. The bookshelf stereo broke within an hour of installing; the surround sound (but it looks so cuuuuuuuuuute) isn’t actually surround (sounds worse than my TV speakers); and the DVD thingy didn’t work at all. They sent a technician to work on it for 2 hours and they admitted they didn’t know what they were doing, so another one is supposed to come tonight. I’m so perturbed. My building hariss, Khalid, came up and shook his head at me. Imagine that! My Saeedi harriss tsk-tsking me for buying Chinese and not American. What is the world coming to? Do people not realize that most things from America are made in China/Taiwan? Look at the label. You know – I blame Bunny. He was too busy to go with me to the store and help me install all the stuff. Anyhoooo, I’m so pissed off about the whole thing that I am going to INVEST in a Bose system after my vacation (I say that with the full knowledge that I will be paying off bills from my vacation after my vacation…).

Hey – THIS year during my vacation to see my family: at least I don’t have to worry about my fiancé running off to Thailand to frolick with 10 year old virgin girls (or whatever else he was up to). Happy ending? I wonder how he feels about his phuckin’ “happy ending” now!!! (And just so you know, Hamad – THREE other men have asked me if they can please come with me to the US to meet my family.) Thailand! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? Last year, Hamad went to Thailand while I was in DC at the same time as Mark Karr was arrested in Thailand for the rape/murder of Jonbennet Ramsey. My whole family knew that Hamad was in Thailand and the first thing they said to me was, “Is he some kind of a pervert?” Happy ending, my ass. I give the best massages in the whole world and I bet you’re missing them now, eh?

Anyhoooo… Purgatory refuses to write anything meaningful on his blog about me and yet if I don’t write about him in every single posting that he gets very upset (he is so narcissistic). So, as I am writing about my ass and perverts and all things dirty (not that my ass is dirty)… I shall use his name. Purgy.

Slapperella is going to Indonesia with Z this week. The Romanian and I are already wondering if she’ll come back pregnant (we’ve secretly been thinking of baby names for her – we might even go to Mothercare to see what is available as a gift). It is going to be a romantic trip…. You never know… The boy is fertile and has a track record to prove it. You never know…. It might just be lucky 7…. (Sorry, Slaps, but if you want to retaliate you either have to create your own blog or start commenting creatively to mine.) I sent Slapperella some flowers this week on behalf of The Romanian and I to congratulate her on her tremendous accomplishment of completing one year into her masters degree: it was a beautiful bouquet of roses… that she would have loved… but I have once again maxed my credit card and the order was rejected. Today is Tuesday, she leaves tomorrow on vacation and so it is too late to get flowers now. The moment is passed, but hey! It’s the thought that counts, right? Love you, girl and I’m so proud of you for working so hard (but at the same time secretly feeling rejected because we don’t see you as often as we used to and we miss you so much). Well, she’ll come back pregnant and then we’ll never see her at all (I don't do baby parties and all that kid nonsense)….

Me, I prefer to practice. I just can’t mate in captivity.

A Tale of Two Men

A Tale of Two Men

Ok, so the Universe usually phucks with me in peculiar ways. If I wish to get married, the Universe brings forth a guy who immediately wants to marry me – mutaa. If I want a particular car, I always get it – only 10 years later.

So now, I was hoping to meet a nice guy and the Universe always seems to bring me 2 at the same time, so I am in a Sophie’s Choice type of dilemma: who do I choose? It hasn’t come down to that point YET luckily, but it will. They are both nice: One is older, one is younger. They are both smart. They both have qualities I admire: One is a business man; the other is an artist and works at a good job in the military. One is seriously rich; the other is moderately well-off. One likes sports cars; the other likes more business-like 4-door sedans. One loves seafood (the Bedu one); one hates seafood (the Hather one). (I love seafood and meat, so I don’t care.)

I guess time will tell. I will probably get bored by both in several weeks unless there is some drama that maintains my level of attention. (Yes, I admit it. I have a problem. It is the first step towards recovery. So phuckin what?)

Slapperella, God love her, says, “Why not keep both?”

I have a dilemma in my life: I don’t fall in love until I have spent quality time with a guy; and yet I never allow a guy to spend quality time with me. Aint that a thang? (And what if, God forbid, I finally do spend quality time with a man only to discover that he is terrible in bed?) It has gotten much worse over the past several years. I seem to think that it is all going to turn out the same, so why waste my time?

Is this what they mean when they say that the older you get, the more jaded you become? Is this what my life is destined for: bitter womanhood?
Am I to live out my days alone with my little companion dog and my microwave?

….Alas, I must not allow myself to watch Bridget Jones anymore. My head is always filled with nonsense directly following the movie. I see myself as Bridget Jones – only in Kuwait.

…. And now…. For something completely different….

Men who are NOT men…

I went to the Sheraton with Slap last night. I saw a “human” who I met through a lawyer friend years ago. This particular humanthing is a pig: he is just about as disgusting as they come and just seeing him made my skin crawl (I love that term. My mother uses that term.) Anyhow, this guy was involved with a group of “religious” Kuwaiti guys (including my lawyer friend) who would go to Egypt and through lawyers there, arrange to marry young, poor virgin girls through orfi marriages. (Orfi marriages are done with a contract and witnesses with a ceremony often by a religious man, but not in a court; so it is not legal.) They were already married to Kuwaiti wives, but went on the belief that orfi marriages are RC (religiously correct). Bullshit. Their Kuwaiti wives/families never know of the marriages. It is basically human trafficking (the latest American catch-phrase): The marriages are arranged by poor families in exchange for money. The girls are often brought to Kuwait and put up in furnished apartments until their “husbands” get bored having sex with them and return them to their families. These guys are wealthy and well known in Kuwait. (I came to Kuwait because of the lawyer friend and I believe that he initially intended me to end up as one of his friends' orfi wife. I'm not naiive and I'm not poor, so it didn't work out well for them.) It makes me sick.

I hope that their Kuwaiti wives are phucking around when they’re out being “RC”. These guys seem to think that women can’t/won’t do the same as the men. Guess again, guys! My Kuwaiti girlfriends are smart and aren’t about to let them get away with anything: They’re doing it too. Humans are humans. “I know my wife.” bullshit!

Let me ask you this, ladies: If you knew your guy was cheating and/or married to someone like this for a temporary arrangement - would you cheat too? Ok, even if you didn’t technically cheat (as in sex with another man) would you have a romantic relationship with another man? Phone calls? SMSs? Secret discussions? Superglue your husband’s appendage to his leg while he was asleep?..... (sorry, I got off track).

I guess people confide their deepest, darkest, dirtiest secrets to me because they don’t think that I have an opinion (I have many) or that I will be discreet. Why on both? It could be because I have “one of those faces” that allows people to open up; someone once told me that “it is a gift” that people just tell me things. Ok. That may be true, but at the same time, there are some images that you don’t want in your head. There are some things that you don’t want to know about people.

Wow – something got me all full of piss and vinegar this morning. Very odd.

Too Hot for Sex

Now do I have your attention? I'm not really going to talk about sex. Not directly anyways.

I had an all-day seminar at the JW Marriott yesterday. I think I sprained my ass (I said "ass"). It hurts. I fell asleep twice (which was a way lower average than all of my colleagues). The only two things that really kept me awake were 1) the extraordinarily OMG-handsome owner of the company, and 2) some new guy from a subsidiary company who I had never met before who was sitting across the table from me, making eyes/returning eyes at me all day (I’ll keep you posted. I wrangled an introduction through one of my fellow managers who seemed to think it was very cute). The manager dude was probably secretly jealous, however, because we flirt with each other non-stop! He's so cute and so in love with his wife. I ditched one of the modules – only to run down to Salhiya and check out all the stuff (where, at one point, I met up with the owner of the company who was doing the same thing!) There are a bunch of handsome guys down there at 11:30 am. I am going to have to skip out of work sometime and go to Starfucks, Salhiya. If I was a man, I would be so hailag. LOL

So, after the 10 hours I spent at the seminar (ass ouchies), I went to have dinner with some girlfriends at one of the Behbehani houses. OMG – amazingly gorgeous house. I don’t know why they don’t build updated versions of the old style Kuwaiti houses. This place was a museum full of interesting and beautiful objects. I fell in love with their little Pekinese dog, George. What a fun night! There were 5 of us girls. I didn’t want to leave, but alas, I was falling asleep. I have found that I am much more active with less sleep and more alcohol. Aint that a thang?

One of the ladies made lasagna using ravioli (apparently, a Rachel Ray recipe). I had never heard of such a thing, but if you think about it – it is very easy: instead of using long strips of pasta and cheese, you substitute with cheese ravioli. It was more of a casserole with a layer of spinach and mushrooms, but very yummy and a lazy girl alternative to the real deal. Any form of lazy girl recipe is just fine with me. Par example: I LOVE the cold-brew iced tea bags. All you have to do is add a packet of Tropicana (fake sugar that I’m hooked on thanks to The Man formerly known as The Man) and a teabag into a cold bottle of water and you’ve got iced tea. That makes me so happy.

My maid threw out my brownies (not the hash kind). It happened a few weeks ago, yet I am still disturbed by it; I am having brownie flashbacks (again, not the hash kind). You know when you get your mouth all ready for something (tee hee) and then you don’t get it? Well, I made a big tray of brownies one boring Friday night (they’re all boring) and my maid comes on Saturdays. Apparently, she has never seen a real brownie before and she threw the whole tray out. I asked her about it and she said, “Oh, it was all black and looked crusty and I thought it was something burned.” NOOOOOOOOOOOOO – It was all crunchy on the outside like I like it and all gooey on the inside like I like it and WTF!!!!

Sweet… teeth… segue (too much coffee, ok?) This weekend, I went with Slapperella to her dentist, Dr. Sexy. Dentists make me nervous (gynecologists don’t – isn’t that ironic?), so I make jokes when I’m nervous. The only problem was, Slapperella had Dr. Sexy in her mouth (so to speak) and she was gagging (so to speak) because she couldn’t laugh properly with all that EQUIPMENT in her mouth. Need I say more? (I can make anything sound dirty.) At one point, Dr. Sexy turns around to look at something on his computer (I think he was chatting on MSN with some girl) and I told Slapperella, “He’s doing a Google search on how to do dental procedures!” Why do people take me places when they know that I will only add to their pain?

That was the day that MTC cut off my phone line for non-payment and I had to use Slapperella's while she was "under the equipment" and I got a little creative with her settings. Why do people lend me their phones on good faith when they know I'm up to no good? I’ve had kind of a busy week and it is only Monday.

Our Jahra friends came to dinner on Saturday and they’ll be back on the weekend because we laugh so much. Somebody has to bring me some camels milk again this weekend or I will become really cranky. As long as they bring the food/booze (same thing), I am happy.

And while we’re talking about good times and laughing…. I was at the Crowne Plaza this weekend and The Romanian was making me laugh about something (like she usually does - it was probably dirty) and I turned around and BAM! There was The (person formerly known as) Man. I didn’t even notice him at first, but I saw his friend’s evil face behind him (his “friend” is someone who makes The PFKA Man upset at every opportunity because he enjoys it). It was kind of cool because I just kept laughing after the 2.5 second interlude passed (sushi makes me high). The PFKA Man struggled NOT to look at me and put his sunglasses back on. Odd, but not unsurprising. The other, Bu Zega, just gave me a big, long stare; obviously collecting data to make The PFKA Man feel bad later (or to talk trash about me because he’s evil). Hey – when you have friends like that, who needs enemies? I wish I could talk more about that whole episode here, but I’m going to wait to publish it in my book. That’s right: an unauthorized tell-all book.

Sidebar: Why don't I use The PFKA Man's real name in here? I don't want to confuse you guys, but I might as well because he has already discovered this blog (checking out my favorites on my PC while I was awa, no doubt. Glad I downloaded all that porn to my USB) and there are only 4 gazillion Hamads in Kuwait anyhooooooo. Maybe the Hamad you know is the Hamad I know... It could happen. (Just think of that next time you are next to your uncle/cousin/brother/father Hamad....)

I went to dinner with Bunny at Gaucho on Thursday. A) I love Bunny and 2) I love Gaucho and C) I love Desmond the waiter at Gaucho. All was well in my world Thursday. OH MY GOD! I didn’t tell y’alls about my dream! (Why don’t we talk as often as we should???)… I had a dream/nightmare that I saw a hamster standing in front of a bunny. The bunny grabbed the hamster with his little, furry bunny paws and phucked (had intercourse with) the hamster. The hamster screamed and I woke up shouting, “Stop it! Stop it!” I woke up, washed my face, and started pondering the significance/symbolism: The 2 recent serious relationships I’ve had in the past several years were with “Bunny” (J) and Hamad/The PFKA Man(who I call “Hamster”). I have told this story to all my friends (including Bunny who has laughed the hardest) and none of them can stop laughing. It was funny, but at the same time scary. I shiver.

What is WRONG with my brain????

Bird….brain…. segue……

Birds keep flying into my apartment. My friends tell me that this phenomenon is a sign of good luck. I don’t think it is good luck for the poor birds who A) slam themselves against my plate glass window and 2) have their ass feathers plucked out by DesertDawg who thinks that she has just been bestowed with a new toy. It always happens at the precise time that my alarm clock is going off also. Isn’t that weird? What does it all mean? Anyhow, just when my alarm clock goes off means that I have no clothes on (yeah baybeeeeee!); that it is an emergency and my glasses are nowhere to be found; and that I am about to badly frighten my poor neighbors across the street making a naked mad-dash across my living room to rescue a fluttering thing and throw it out the window. Thank God I have never been bitten by a pigeon. Thank God, I have never made eye-contact with any of my neighbors across the street. I think that either would really mess me up.

AMOONA! I forgot to write about Amoona on the Rai Channel. That right thar is some funny shit. I wish they had English subtitles. I have to be home now every day during the week at 11 pm to watch this hilarious Kuwaiti soap opera. Ok, sometimes it is hilarious – most of the time it is so/so, but it is soooooooooo soooooooooooo Kuwait that I love it. If you aren’t following the story (and who wouldn’t be???)… It is the tale of two middle aged Kuwaiti friends, Amoona and (I forget the other one’s name – Um somebody). Amoona started off poor. Her friend has always been rich. Amoona’s husband traveled to Asia on buying trips for his hailag accessory shop; and on one of his trips married a Filipina lady named Leezo. Husband and Amoona get divorced. Amoona lives with her 2 fat, stupid kids in a run down house in a not-very-good area. Until…. She inherits millions from an aunt and it changes her life. She buys a villa close to her rich friend; she buys a yacht so that she can go out to sea and make trouble for her fisherman x-husband and his wife; she takes computer classes; she goes to the expensive salon with her friend. Then, her no-good husband wants her back. It is kind of like a country song; only it is a Kuwaiti soap opera. Gotta love it. Anyhoo, now both The Romanian and I are calling each other “Amoona” all the time. SHE is going to be the real Amoona, though, because she’s going to get her Kuwaiti citizenship and it is going to change her life. Then she can come to Strands with me and get her hair done properly... (she curses me inside my head).

See... that really had nothing to do whatsoever with sex, now did it?

I Won The Islamic Lottery

WTF???

According to some spam mail I received today, I won the Islamic Lottery (by way of Jordan and Thailand --??) entitling me to $500,000. (If you don't believe me, I'll forward you the e-mail.) Isn't a lottery (as a form of gambling) anti-Islamic? Why they sending it to me?

On a lighter note, I had a mammogram today for the first time. (Medical Week continues.) I've heard all kinds of awful stuff about having a mammogram. I don't know what the big deal is. Maybe if you have small ones, it hurts more? I dunno. I made jokes all the way through. (I crack jokes when I'm nervous or in pain.) Usually the techs are laughing so hard that they can't properly perform their jobs. Why would a woman want to undertake a career that would have her touching other women's breasts all day long? Just a random thought. There was nothing hinky about it.

I'm going Mercedes shopping this weekend. That will make me happy. THAT is a plan! Me thinks black....

Summer Madness

I have been totally bored off my azz lately. It isn’t even funny. The Romanian blames ME for us having a boring life. She loves plans, so I’m always supposed to come up with one that sounds exciting – even though we always do the same damn thing every damn weekend. And THEN… we can go to…. And THEN we can go to … It is like reading the same bedtime story to a 4 year old over and over and over again.

This past week was Medical Week. I have been putting off getting all my checkups done for waaaay too long, so I figured, ‘whatdahey’ and got everything done: like multiple fibrosomething cauterization (having little skin things burned off). Let me just tell you – there is NOTHING like the smell of your own skin burning. Mmmmm. Just like being at a barbeque, only its YOU. I look like I got into a train wreck. Slapperella was sitting in front of me at lunch (with Olive and his cousin visiting from Sauuuuuudia) mouthing the word, “whore” over and over again because it appears as though I have a long love bite on my neck (which I’m not allowed to cover with make-up because it is really a burn).

My friends love me.

I also went to the new OB/GYN/infertility specialist at Mowasat. Wow. He is a great guy and takes time to explain things (I love pillow talk). Just the opposite of the other guy previously at the hospital; and was a wham-bam-thank-you-mam kind of doctor. Even if I am paying some guy to poke me, I want him to talk to me.

I have been on a camels milk trip for the past several weeks. I’ve always had stomach problems and this stuff is really helping me a lot. I felt noticeably different. I’ve got a “bedu delivery service” that brings it to me. It is kind of like drinking white paint – really thick (don’t EVEN go there! It is FOOD! Haram!) I know Purg is going to be all over this (so to speak). Food item!!!! Food item!!!!

One more month till vacation. I don’t even know what I will do with myself with that much free time. I have been in hyper-drive since last September. My job is really stressful.

I saw a guy at a meeting last week who was tall and extremely gorgeous and was making eyes at me and I was making eyes at him. When he gave me his card, I recognized his name from somewhere. I still don’t know where. I am planning to call him and say something incredibly corny like, “I remember where I saw you…. In my dreams….” Isn’t that pathetic? Gets ‘em every time. (Then, I’m going to invite him over for some camels milk. Naw – just kidding.)

Anyhoo, I definitely know in advance that he is not Shemmari because every Shammar man on the continent seems to be finding me lately. Why? You may ask… I have no clue. I am a Shammar magnet. My friends laugh about it. We could be out anywhere, and one will find me. I don’t know. The other day, I was at H&M and one appeared out of nowhere behind me with that grin… too ironic. The Romanian turns to me and says, “Shammar?” Well, whatdayaknow! Even the guys who I don’t initially believe to be Shammar turn out to be Shammar. They can give me any other name and they’ll turn out Shammar. Sanaeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees ya gulbi!

Commercial Facilities - "No Guarantor"

Bobarino went into Commercial Facilities Company - after seeing their advertisement offering Expat Loans up to 15 times your salary with no guarantor (Says so right on their website). He only applied for 3 times his salary and he was told he needs a Kuwaiti guarantor, as they have had problems in the past. He asked why it was advertised everywhere as "no guarantor". He was told that it was "marketing". Yeah - as in FALSE advertising. This is all heresay, of course, as it didn't happen to me. I am planning to go in and apply for a loan with them to see what happens to me personally. Has anyone had a bad experience there?

He decided to try NBK which he said offered AMAZING service. We both had bad experiences in the past with NBK after leaving PWC, but he said that he couldn't believe the quick turn around on his loan request. They even called him and said, "The money is in the bank, Mr. (Bobarino)".

I Dated Bob's Big Boy

He (Kuwaiti blind date with pasty white skin, black comb-over) looked like this - only way taller and without the tummy. Bob's Big Boy lusted after me. Had he been carrying the tray with the enormous hamburger, I might have re-considered.

He had the same "Desert Girl, I'm going to put my Big Boy hands all over you...." expression on his face.

I have officially hit rock bottom.