"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.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Monday, October 17, 2005
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! :)
Sunday, October 16, 2005
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.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
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???
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???
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
“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.
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.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
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!
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!
Sunday, September 18, 2005
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
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.
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.
Monday, August 15, 2005
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Leeeeeeeevin' on a Jet Plane
Tomorrow night I'm heading for green, family, margaritas, big dogs, Target, real lobster... and so on and so on and so on.
Do you think I should start packing? I am such a guy/girl: I wait until the absolute last minute before throwing all my stuff into a suitcase (or 2 or 3). Guess I should be thinking about this stuff. My mother, on the other hand, uses pretty tissue paper, to genteeely wrap her clothing so it won't be wrinkled. I have no time for that. All that would do for me would be a wadded up ball of tissue paper somewhere on the floor of my room. Nonsense.
I'm not looking forward to being crammed in a plane for all those hours with my back aching. I'm not such a great traveller anymore. I used to be. Now I just kinda dread it. I hope I don't snore. Travelling alone and snoring on the plane is the worst. At least when you are travelling with a friend or family member, you have someone to jab you in the ribs if, perhaps, lets say, the overhead bins start shaking from the noise level of your snoring.
I have already started missing Kuwait. How STOOOPID is dat? It is The Sickness. As soon as you leave Kuwait (with The Sickness), you miss it. I don't know why it is. And while I'm away - I'm thinking of all the people in Kuwait who I haven't hooked up with in a long time and thinking that I am really going to call them when I get back to see them. Why is it that while I'm IN Kuwait, I just don't pick up the phone and do it? I don' t know why that is.
Anyhoo, I am going to miss all my (non-annoying) friends. I am even starting to miss The Don who I have never even met. When he went on vacation, I missed him. I don't know why that is. I know Bunny misses me when I'm away - even though I hardly ever see him anymore.
I'll try to post from the States. I'm sure I can find something to yak about.
Do you think I should start packing? I am such a guy/girl: I wait until the absolute last minute before throwing all my stuff into a suitcase (or 2 or 3). Guess I should be thinking about this stuff. My mother, on the other hand, uses pretty tissue paper, to genteeely wrap her clothing so it won't be wrinkled. I have no time for that. All that would do for me would be a wadded up ball of tissue paper somewhere on the floor of my room. Nonsense.
I'm not looking forward to being crammed in a plane for all those hours with my back aching. I'm not such a great traveller anymore. I used to be. Now I just kinda dread it. I hope I don't snore. Travelling alone and snoring on the plane is the worst. At least when you are travelling with a friend or family member, you have someone to jab you in the ribs if, perhaps, lets say, the overhead bins start shaking from the noise level of your snoring.
I have already started missing Kuwait. How STOOOPID is dat? It is The Sickness. As soon as you leave Kuwait (with The Sickness), you miss it. I don't know why it is. And while I'm away - I'm thinking of all the people in Kuwait who I haven't hooked up with in a long time and thinking that I am really going to call them when I get back to see them. Why is it that while I'm IN Kuwait, I just don't pick up the phone and do it? I don' t know why that is.
Anyhoo, I am going to miss all my (non-annoying) friends. I am even starting to miss The Don who I have never even met. When he went on vacation, I missed him. I don't know why that is. I know Bunny misses me when I'm away - even though I hardly ever see him anymore.
I'll try to post from the States. I'm sure I can find something to yak about.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Wanasa
I had a fun weekend. It is still technically the weekend, so it isn't over yet. I can't believe I had such a fun weekend because it is so frickin hot and I feel like I am gonna die every time I walk out the front door. I think I am getting a tan just crossing the front courtyard. No wonder so many ninjachicks wear gloves.
Like Bunny's chick. She's not a ninja, but wears the gloves and I feel sad when I see them in his car -- like Wednesday night on the way back from a nice Chinese dinner at the new Holiday Inn. The phone rings at precisely 10:30 and he has to rush home before his coach turns into a pumpkin. I miss that Bunny.
I only have a few more weeks before I go to the States on vacation, so the Presentable Package to the Family preparations have begun: getting my hair done, trying to lose weight, teeth whitening, manicure/pedicure and of course - tan. I will be immediately scrutinized once I walk through the international arrivals gate at Dulles. Am I wearing black as usual? Are my roots too dark? Do my teeth look as white as they did last time I was there? Is my butt any bigger? The questions I am 100% sure that are on my dad's mind throughout the entire year I am away. So, yesterday I had the roots done. I am back to Acceptable Blonde now... which seems acceptable to the male population as well...
Like last night. I went with my Slutty Friend (I love her, but you wouldn't believe how the girl dresses) to dinner. We were supposed to meet some new friends for coffee, but they literally ditched us. God, working in mysterious ways as usual, offered us a great advantage by having them stand us up: we had a great time. I don't mind being stood up every now and then because I figure that in some small way, the Universe will allow me payback - however small or in whatever form. Last night, it was in the form of an SMS, "Too bad you didn't show up. If we had liked you, we had planned to take you back to our place and have sex with you until you couldn't remember your name." That was good enough to make me feel placated.
Anyhooooooooooo (Purgatory!), we brought some "liquid courage" with us to the restaurant and proceeded to order finger food, mixers and ice all night which made the whole thing really fun. Ugly men always look better with liquid help. We had a blast. I can't remember so much positive male attention at one time. We felt like rock stars. One guy (sitting with a group of about 10 men) was staring me down in a major way, so I sent him a piece of cake. Black forest cake to be exact.
I haven't been invited out on anybody's boat in a looooooooooong time. I am losing my sea legs. I watched the sea today and ate breakfast at Johnny Rockets at Marina Crescent, looking at the empty slips at the marina. I thought about how much I miss the islands and then said to myself, 'Damn - all those people are crazy. It is 150 degrees outside. I'm going to take a nap." and I did. When I marry the Perfect Man, he will have the Perfect Yacht (with generator and good A/C) and we will spend our sunsets out on the water together. Until then, I am napping when it is 150 degrees outside because none of my no-good, mean friends have called to invite me. That's ok. I'm still having fun without them. As for the tan, I'm going to get sprayed at Strands several nights before I get on the plane - just so my family thinks that I live in a sunny country!
Like Bunny's chick. She's not a ninja, but wears the gloves and I feel sad when I see them in his car -- like Wednesday night on the way back from a nice Chinese dinner at the new Holiday Inn. The phone rings at precisely 10:30 and he has to rush home before his coach turns into a pumpkin. I miss that Bunny.
I only have a few more weeks before I go to the States on vacation, so the Presentable Package to the Family preparations have begun: getting my hair done, trying to lose weight, teeth whitening, manicure/pedicure and of course - tan. I will be immediately scrutinized once I walk through the international arrivals gate at Dulles. Am I wearing black as usual? Are my roots too dark? Do my teeth look as white as they did last time I was there? Is my butt any bigger? The questions I am 100% sure that are on my dad's mind throughout the entire year I am away. So, yesterday I had the roots done. I am back to Acceptable Blonde now... which seems acceptable to the male population as well...
Like last night. I went with my Slutty Friend (I love her, but you wouldn't believe how the girl dresses) to dinner. We were supposed to meet some new friends for coffee, but they literally ditched us. God, working in mysterious ways as usual, offered us a great advantage by having them stand us up: we had a great time. I don't mind being stood up every now and then because I figure that in some small way, the Universe will allow me payback - however small or in whatever form. Last night, it was in the form of an SMS, "Too bad you didn't show up. If we had liked you, we had planned to take you back to our place and have sex with you until you couldn't remember your name." That was good enough to make me feel placated.
Anyhooooooooooo (Purgatory!), we brought some "liquid courage" with us to the restaurant and proceeded to order finger food, mixers and ice all night which made the whole thing really fun. Ugly men always look better with liquid help. We had a blast. I can't remember so much positive male attention at one time. We felt like rock stars. One guy (sitting with a group of about 10 men) was staring me down in a major way, so I sent him a piece of cake. Black forest cake to be exact.
I haven't been invited out on anybody's boat in a looooooooooong time. I am losing my sea legs. I watched the sea today and ate breakfast at Johnny Rockets at Marina Crescent, looking at the empty slips at the marina. I thought about how much I miss the islands and then said to myself, 'Damn - all those people are crazy. It is 150 degrees outside. I'm going to take a nap." and I did. When I marry the Perfect Man, he will have the Perfect Yacht (with generator and good A/C) and we will spend our sunsets out on the water together. Until then, I am napping when it is 150 degrees outside because none of my no-good, mean friends have called to invite me. That's ok. I'm still having fun without them. As for the tan, I'm going to get sprayed at Strands several nights before I get on the plane - just so my family thinks that I live in a sunny country!
Monday, July 18, 2005
Karma, Flying..., and Heat
A big Kuwaiti logistics company is under investigation by the US military for possible violations on procurement/contracting laws. Tee hee tee hee (giggling with glee). Gee, I wonder what they did to deserve that. NOT! Their stocks are taking a nose-dive (tee hee!!!!). Karma, my dear friends. What goes around, comes around. Somehow, someday, some way, those who are unethical (inhumane, evil) and doing illegal things will eventually get BUSTED. Na na naaa na naaa naaaaaaaaaa.
Anyhoo, my life of late has been happy. For some reason, I am receiving the male version of Eddie Murphy's skit on flying (slang word for lower female sexual organ). Maybe I'm having good hair days? Maybe my make-up is good? Maybe… just maybe… it is 150 degrees outside and the male population is just "friendly"??? Go figure. Peaks and valleys. Mens are just walking right up and giving me their business cards. I'm talking about MEN – not boys. Men with real jobs and good titles. Edu-ma-cated mens. I'm not talking about boys who write their number on a little yellow sticky paper and throw it at you. I am talking about MEN who take the time to walk across a room and introduce themselves like normal (for the States). What's going on?
Speaking of hot and bothered: I have got to buy a mobile air conditioner; you know – one of those kind on wheels that you can move around and cool a room. The AC maintenance people have been to my apartment 6 times already this year (I've got central). They are pissin me off! My apartment stays 75 degrees the entire summer. I have to sleep neked with a fan on me (Oh Mr. Invisible – where are you when I need you?).
Anyhoo, my life of late has been happy. For some reason, I am receiving the male version of Eddie Murphy's skit on flying (slang word for lower female sexual organ). Maybe I'm having good hair days? Maybe my make-up is good? Maybe… just maybe… it is 150 degrees outside and the male population is just "friendly"??? Go figure. Peaks and valleys. Mens are just walking right up and giving me their business cards. I'm talking about MEN – not boys. Men with real jobs and good titles. Edu-ma-cated mens. I'm not talking about boys who write their number on a little yellow sticky paper and throw it at you. I am talking about MEN who take the time to walk across a room and introduce themselves like normal (for the States). What's going on?
Speaking of hot and bothered: I have got to buy a mobile air conditioner; you know – one of those kind on wheels that you can move around and cool a room. The AC maintenance people have been to my apartment 6 times already this year (I've got central). They are pissin me off! My apartment stays 75 degrees the entire summer. I have to sleep neked with a fan on me (Oh Mr. Invisible – where are you when I need you?).
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Mean Companies Suck
The other day, a very good friend of mine called me, distraught about her job. I am one of those people who empathize with anyone who is being treated unfairly. She only recently started working at a small company and she has already discovered the main concern of many expats working here in Kuwait: lack of job security. Hire an expat, fire an expat, hire someone else for WAY less money. It usually happens after the Western person has been in Kuwait for about a year. Could be less – depending.
Of course, I am generalizing, but unfortunately, it happens a lot.
It is happening now at a very large logistics company with lots of Americans on staff. The homeys are asked to leave and quietly slip away because they are too worried about rocking the boat and potentially getting themselves into trouble.
My advice to my dear friend - toughen up and always have a Plan B. You can't take it personally (although it is, you have to pretend for a while that it isn't). You have got to network in Kuwait. You have got to know what your options are should something happen to you suddenly. Feel out the market. Find places that you would like to go to work if something happens to your current job. Determine which companies are working on the interesting/profitable projects in your field. Talk to people there. Mingle. Network. Cover your ass.
Know your rights.
All of a sudden, a whole lot of companies are "extending" the 100 day employee probation period – thinking that, should they fire the employee at say 130 days, the employee won't know the difference. By Kuwait Labor Law, a company can ONLY give an employee a 100 day probation period. No more. After 100 days, they are guaranteed rights (like not being terminated a the drop of a dime).
Do you know what happens to your credit cards if you are a Westerner here and lose your job? (Credit cards which you have obtained from the bank where your salary is being deposited into and debited directly from your account each month.) If your salary isn't transferred by EFT to the bank on the usual transfer date, whatever is in your account is immediately taken to cover your credit card (since they are all "secured" cards here). Then, your credit card is cancelled until your new employer provides you with a salary certificate and the first electronic funds transfer transaction takes place. In other words, you will have no money to get back to where ever you came from (unless you have your money in another account or overseas).
Do you know what happens if you are fired and a company doesn't feel like paying you your settlement? You have to take them to court. It may take years to actually receive any money. If you don't know of any good lawyers in Kuwait, you should find out. Establish a relationship with a lawyer just incase. Go have coffee with a lawyer and make friends. Send him/her a card on Eid or special occasions. Make them remember you should anything ever happen.
Plan B!!!!
Of course, I am generalizing, but unfortunately, it happens a lot.
It is happening now at a very large logistics company with lots of Americans on staff. The homeys are asked to leave and quietly slip away because they are too worried about rocking the boat and potentially getting themselves into trouble.
My advice to my dear friend - toughen up and always have a Plan B. You can't take it personally (although it is, you have to pretend for a while that it isn't). You have got to network in Kuwait. You have got to know what your options are should something happen to you suddenly. Feel out the market. Find places that you would like to go to work if something happens to your current job. Determine which companies are working on the interesting/profitable projects in your field. Talk to people there. Mingle. Network. Cover your ass.
Know your rights.
All of a sudden, a whole lot of companies are "extending" the 100 day employee probation period – thinking that, should they fire the employee at say 130 days, the employee won't know the difference. By Kuwait Labor Law, a company can ONLY give an employee a 100 day probation period. No more. After 100 days, they are guaranteed rights (like not being terminated a the drop of a dime).
Do you know what happens to your credit cards if you are a Westerner here and lose your job? (Credit cards which you have obtained from the bank where your salary is being deposited into and debited directly from your account each month.) If your salary isn't transferred by EFT to the bank on the usual transfer date, whatever is in your account is immediately taken to cover your credit card (since they are all "secured" cards here). Then, your credit card is cancelled until your new employer provides you with a salary certificate and the first electronic funds transfer transaction takes place. In other words, you will have no money to get back to where ever you came from (unless you have your money in another account or overseas).
Do you know what happens if you are fired and a company doesn't feel like paying you your settlement? You have to take them to court. It may take years to actually receive any money. If you don't know of any good lawyers in Kuwait, you should find out. Establish a relationship with a lawyer just incase. Go have coffee with a lawyer and make friends. Send him/her a card on Eid or special occasions. Make them remember you should anything ever happen.
Plan B!!!!
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Losing Whatever Was Left
I am so bored. I mean it. I don't know how I can make it to mid-August when I get the HELL out of here and head to Virginia. Wooo Hooooo!
I haven't been doing anything – literally. I am wearing a valley into my sofa where my ass goes every day after work. Desert Dawg has given up. All hope has been lost.
It is hot and dusty and why should I go anywhere or do anything? Spend money? Been there, done that. Eat? Been there, done that. Can't walk the dog because of the heat. I can't chase around after men because there are too many out of the country. Prime hunting season won't begin again until late September. This is just lame.
I am pathetic and I have no life, so of course – I like to go home, order sushi on wheels, and boo hoo in front of the TV to Oprah. The other day, they had an episode about Luther Vandross. I grew up listening to Luther. He was like a distant cousin (only black and way taller than us). I loved that man. I went through almost an entire box of Kleenex on that episode of Oprah. "Don't you remember you told me you loved me ba-by…. You said you'd be coming back this way again baby…." Sniffle, whimper.
Last night, I lost Oprah. I was watching an episode about how an X-CIA guy who specialized in disguises has started making prosthetic body parts for people who had been maimed in some way and couldn't go out into public. I was just at the part with the guy with the screw in his nose (big gigantic screw that is quite apparent), explaining that he lost it in a boating accident when BAM! … "Searching programs. Please wait a while." Kept popping up on the screen. Damn that Showtime. THEN… I did what I'm supposed to – I put the settings back to factory defaults. Holy shyt!!!! I lost Oprah on MBC4!
Many frantic calls to Bunny followed. He listens to my complaining. I listen to his geek talk. Do either of us really pay attention to the other? Hmmmmm….
So, at 10:00, I called Showtime in Kuwait. Previously, they never picked up the phone past about 7:00 pm. Low and behold – a young Kuwaiti guy answered and I blurted out, "Help meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I've lost Oprah and I can't find her again!" Thankfully to God, he actually spoke perfect English and found me quite amusing. His response, "How did you lose Oprah? She's a big girl…" He ran me through the settings until I was reunited with the MBC channels (although too late to find out what happened to the nose-guy). Was anybody else watching? What happened to nose-guy?
I then ate some Oreo chocolate pudding, got some heart palpitations from however much fat it was, and went to sleep. Bo-ring!
I haven't been doing anything – literally. I am wearing a valley into my sofa where my ass goes every day after work. Desert Dawg has given up. All hope has been lost.
It is hot and dusty and why should I go anywhere or do anything? Spend money? Been there, done that. Eat? Been there, done that. Can't walk the dog because of the heat. I can't chase around after men because there are too many out of the country. Prime hunting season won't begin again until late September. This is just lame.
I am pathetic and I have no life, so of course – I like to go home, order sushi on wheels, and boo hoo in front of the TV to Oprah. The other day, they had an episode about Luther Vandross. I grew up listening to Luther. He was like a distant cousin (only black and way taller than us). I loved that man. I went through almost an entire box of Kleenex on that episode of Oprah. "Don't you remember you told me you loved me ba-by…. You said you'd be coming back this way again baby…." Sniffle, whimper.
Last night, I lost Oprah. I was watching an episode about how an X-CIA guy who specialized in disguises has started making prosthetic body parts for people who had been maimed in some way and couldn't go out into public. I was just at the part with the guy with the screw in his nose (big gigantic screw that is quite apparent), explaining that he lost it in a boating accident when BAM! … "Searching programs. Please wait a while." Kept popping up on the screen. Damn that Showtime. THEN… I did what I'm supposed to – I put the settings back to factory defaults. Holy shyt!!!! I lost Oprah on MBC4!
Many frantic calls to Bunny followed. He listens to my complaining. I listen to his geek talk. Do either of us really pay attention to the other? Hmmmmm….
So, at 10:00, I called Showtime in Kuwait. Previously, they never picked up the phone past about 7:00 pm. Low and behold – a young Kuwaiti guy answered and I blurted out, "Help meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I've lost Oprah and I can't find her again!" Thankfully to God, he actually spoke perfect English and found me quite amusing. His response, "How did you lose Oprah? She's a big girl…" He ran me through the settings until I was reunited with the MBC channels (although too late to find out what happened to the nose-guy). Was anybody else watching? What happened to nose-guy?
I then ate some Oreo chocolate pudding, got some heart palpitations from however much fat it was, and went to sleep. Bo-ring!
Monday, July 04, 2005
Bricks and Chianti
According to my favorite on-line dream dictionary (www.dreammoods.com):
To see a brick in your dream, represents your individual ideas and thoughts. Experience and/or heartbreak may have hardened you. To dream that you are building a brick wall, signifies a wall that you are putting up to protect yourself against hurt. It may also indicate that you may be hard on the outside but still sensitive on the inside. So... Therefore... Thereby... digging up bricks from the sand represents my burred emotions that have been hardened. I took them out of the ground, brushed them off, laid them on the ground, and they crumbled. Am I s'posed to be soft now? Aint gonna happen. As Bunny says, "It is probably about sex." God, I love that man. He can really see into the heart of matters.
Forget Paris! is doing some business with Bobarino. He is trying to get to me through Bobarino but as B says, "Ma name's Bennet and I aint in it." Paris is so frickin romantially inept. Send roses, dumbass - you're never gonna git to me through a contract. What tha Fu is wrong with these men?
Anyhoo, so I went home, polished off that bottle of Ruffino Chianti I had and made a big bowl of pasta and seafood (seafood zuppa like we used to get in Rhode Island). (Which reminds me that I really really have to e-mail my friend, Cyndy, and say hi.) My mom called me and told me about my poor sister's really really bad weekend and I felt a little better about my boring, melancholy one.
My Virginia sister was trying to leave town for a few days at her beach palace (Barbie's Beach House) when my older sister just popped in from Texas with her daughter by surprise for my dad's birthday. Unfortunately, since VA Sister was on her way out of town, she had friends who wanted to stay at her house and utilize the Barbie Pool at In-Town-Palace, so the palace was already booked in advance for that weekend (my dad's place is too small for guests). She puts my Texan sister into a hotel with her daughter. The next morning, Virginia sister was going to head to the beach when her son came down with (as she refers to it) Hoof and Mouth Disease (some kinda funky rash all over) and they had to go to an emergency room. Apparently it was an allergy to aloe vera (go figure) and he had to stay out of the sun for 2 days (a 10 year old at the BEACH for the weekend). Meanwhile, their friends who were supposed to meet them at the beach called to say that they would be late because the husband (of husband-wife-and-2-kids that were visiting) had an appendectomy and would be late ("not to worry, just a small incision"). I am dying to hear how this all turns out.
Meanwhile, I am living the single, quiet life drinkin my Chianti and eating pasta. HA.
To see a brick in your dream, represents your individual ideas and thoughts. Experience and/or heartbreak may have hardened you. To dream that you are building a brick wall, signifies a wall that you are putting up to protect yourself against hurt. It may also indicate that you may be hard on the outside but still sensitive on the inside. So... Therefore... Thereby... digging up bricks from the sand represents my burred emotions that have been hardened. I took them out of the ground, brushed them off, laid them on the ground, and they crumbled. Am I s'posed to be soft now? Aint gonna happen. As Bunny says, "It is probably about sex." God, I love that man. He can really see into the heart of matters.
Forget Paris! is doing some business with Bobarino. He is trying to get to me through Bobarino but as B says, "Ma name's Bennet and I aint in it." Paris is so frickin romantially inept. Send roses, dumbass - you're never gonna git to me through a contract. What tha Fu is wrong with these men?
Anyhoo, so I went home, polished off that bottle of Ruffino Chianti I had and made a big bowl of pasta and seafood (seafood zuppa like we used to get in Rhode Island). (Which reminds me that I really really have to e-mail my friend, Cyndy, and say hi.) My mom called me and told me about my poor sister's really really bad weekend and I felt a little better about my boring, melancholy one.
My Virginia sister was trying to leave town for a few days at her beach palace (Barbie's Beach House) when my older sister just popped in from Texas with her daughter by surprise for my dad's birthday. Unfortunately, since VA Sister was on her way out of town, she had friends who wanted to stay at her house and utilize the Barbie Pool at In-Town-Palace, so the palace was already booked in advance for that weekend (my dad's place is too small for guests). She puts my Texan sister into a hotel with her daughter. The next morning, Virginia sister was going to head to the beach when her son came down with (as she refers to it) Hoof and Mouth Disease (some kinda funky rash all over) and they had to go to an emergency room. Apparently it was an allergy to aloe vera (go figure) and he had to stay out of the sun for 2 days (a 10 year old at the BEACH for the weekend). Meanwhile, their friends who were supposed to meet them at the beach called to say that they would be late because the husband (of husband-wife-and-2-kids that were visiting) had an appendectomy and would be late ("not to worry, just a small incision"). I am dying to hear how this all turns out.
Meanwhile, I am living the single, quiet life drinkin my Chianti and eating pasta. HA.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
Another F-ed Up Weekend in Paradise
Ok, call me fickle if you will, but I've changed my mind again (I'm female – we are allowed to do that). I have my reasons….
FH&FOMC – After this weekend…. I think he must be gay. Should I say more? He is a nice guy and I am dying to elaborate, but I guess some secrecy should be maintained once in a while (unless the guy is a total butthead which FH&FOMC is not).
Forget Paris! Nice guy. Nice potential. Nice package. He keeps "getting busy" and missing our dates. Funny, though – he always manages to keep the business meetings I arrange for him. He calls me to make dates and , "… oh… by the way… that project…" I told him about a gazillion times that if he wanted to see me romantically, he should keep our business life separate. So, HE decided that Thursday would be our official "date night" since we are both so busy during the week and he has to visit his son on Wednesday nights. Fine. However, Thursday night when we were supposed to go to dinner at 8, he calls me at 8:30 and said that he was on his way to a meeting ("You're not mad, are you?). At 11 he called (I didn't answer). (Translation: booty call.) You don't call a woman at 11:00 at night and expect anything but a booty call. I ain't havin it. Who tha fu has a meeting at 8:30 on a Thursday night. (Translation: I'm taking someone else out to dinner, but I'll stop by your house for a quicky later.) Now men – a word of advice: If you want a booty call, tell it like it is. At least be honest about it. Most women prefer the honesty and you might actually GET SOME by choosing the righteous path.
Mutaa guy: Needless to say, I didn't get the ring and he is still trying to figure out what to do. Puh-leeeeeze! We did have a nice dinner together, though and I enjoy being in his company. I just thought he didn't need the training and APPARENTLY I was mistaken. He's sincere and makes me laugh and with a little work, maybe I can get his act together.
After this weekend, I am one step closer to becoming a lesbian. I swear, if any country can work the impossible – it'll be this one.
Know what I do when I get really bored? Get onto M-chat. Now that is just ugly-fun. You can find all kindsa mental patients on M-chat and it is fun playing with them. Most are married (waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa… my wife doesn't understand me) and looking for something to do with their hands (SMS-ing, that is). The best time to M-chat is on a Thursday night when the whole country goes apeshit via boredom. You can download the M-chat software from MTC Vodaphone or send an SMS to 858 of "go" and following the prompts. Go forth with your bad self.
FH&FOMC – After this weekend…. I think he must be gay. Should I say more? He is a nice guy and I am dying to elaborate, but I guess some secrecy should be maintained once in a while (unless the guy is a total butthead which FH&FOMC is not).
Forget Paris! Nice guy. Nice potential. Nice package. He keeps "getting busy" and missing our dates. Funny, though – he always manages to keep the business meetings I arrange for him. He calls me to make dates and , "… oh… by the way… that project…" I told him about a gazillion times that if he wanted to see me romantically, he should keep our business life separate. So, HE decided that Thursday would be our official "date night" since we are both so busy during the week and he has to visit his son on Wednesday nights. Fine. However, Thursday night when we were supposed to go to dinner at 8, he calls me at 8:30 and said that he was on his way to a meeting ("You're not mad, are you?). At 11 he called (I didn't answer). (Translation: booty call.) You don't call a woman at 11:00 at night and expect anything but a booty call. I ain't havin it. Who tha fu has a meeting at 8:30 on a Thursday night. (Translation: I'm taking someone else out to dinner, but I'll stop by your house for a quicky later.) Now men – a word of advice: If you want a booty call, tell it like it is. At least be honest about it. Most women prefer the honesty and you might actually GET SOME by choosing the righteous path.
Mutaa guy: Needless to say, I didn't get the ring and he is still trying to figure out what to do. Puh-leeeeeze! We did have a nice dinner together, though and I enjoy being in his company. I just thought he didn't need the training and APPARENTLY I was mistaken. He's sincere and makes me laugh and with a little work, maybe I can get his act together.
After this weekend, I am one step closer to becoming a lesbian. I swear, if any country can work the impossible – it'll be this one.
Know what I do when I get really bored? Get onto M-chat. Now that is just ugly-fun. You can find all kindsa mental patients on M-chat and it is fun playing with them. Most are married (waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa… my wife doesn't understand me) and looking for something to do with their hands (SMS-ing, that is). The best time to M-chat is on a Thursday night when the whole country goes apeshit via boredom. You can download the M-chat software from MTC Vodaphone or send an SMS to 858 of "go" and following the prompts. Go forth with your bad self.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Bricks in the Sand?
I haven't been able to blog (for your information, MuslimArtist) because I am workin like a dawg all day (one of the partners is in town) and I'm so sleepy when I get home that I don’t even want to watch dirty movies anymore. I just go to sleep. That is so pathetic and lame.
I dreamt I was digging up bricks in the sand last night. What does that mean? Is it a Kharafi nightmare?
I haven't seen much of Mr. Paris lately, although I am liking him. He's saying the right stuff and it is genuine. My ears are Highly Sensitive Bullshit Detectors and the gauge has been detecting only trace levels.
Ironically, Future Husband and Father of My Children has been showing interest of late (aka "sniffin around"). What is with these guys and how do they automatically KNOW when other men are in the picture? Do they have jealousy radar or what? Why can't they just stretch out the luuuuuve? Why is it peaks and valleys? Am I the only female experiencing this phenomenon?
And then there is yet another man in the picture – totally handsome, yummy, funny, intelligent, etc. (a bowling buddy) – however, he is married and wants me to be Mutaa girl. I told him (in complete seriousness) that I would require a diamond (as in NOT ZIRCON) engagement ring as mahar. He laughed. I told him my ring size. Go forth, young man, to yonder jeweler! Yo – if I'm going to respect his wishes/religion, then damn if he's not gonna have to respect mine. Bada BING.
I think Mr. Paris is the best option. Of course, in 2 weeks, they will have all disappeared again and I will be in another valley because they can't figure out how to properly manage time.
And to make matters really pathetic – I haven't actually had the time to see any of these guys. Desert Dawg is even being neglected. Last night, she jumped into the bathtub; not a hint, but a demand.
What happened to my FUN life? What happened to happy hours and going to get massages and pedicures and hair treatments? What happened to shopping at gourmet shops and sipping wine? What happened to pretty dresses and dancing? Damn. . . this does suck!
I dreamt I was digging up bricks in the sand last night. What does that mean? Is it a Kharafi nightmare?
I haven't seen much of Mr. Paris lately, although I am liking him. He's saying the right stuff and it is genuine. My ears are Highly Sensitive Bullshit Detectors and the gauge has been detecting only trace levels.
Ironically, Future Husband and Father of My Children has been showing interest of late (aka "sniffin around"). What is with these guys and how do they automatically KNOW when other men are in the picture? Do they have jealousy radar or what? Why can't they just stretch out the luuuuuve? Why is it peaks and valleys? Am I the only female experiencing this phenomenon?
And then there is yet another man in the picture – totally handsome, yummy, funny, intelligent, etc. (a bowling buddy) – however, he is married and wants me to be Mutaa girl. I told him (in complete seriousness) that I would require a diamond (as in NOT ZIRCON) engagement ring as mahar. He laughed. I told him my ring size. Go forth, young man, to yonder jeweler! Yo – if I'm going to respect his wishes/religion, then damn if he's not gonna have to respect mine. Bada BING.
I think Mr. Paris is the best option. Of course, in 2 weeks, they will have all disappeared again and I will be in another valley because they can't figure out how to properly manage time.
And to make matters really pathetic – I haven't actually had the time to see any of these guys. Desert Dawg is even being neglected. Last night, she jumped into the bathtub; not a hint, but a demand.
What happened to my FUN life? What happened to happy hours and going to get massages and pedicures and hair treatments? What happened to shopping at gourmet shops and sipping wine? What happened to pretty dresses and dancing? Damn. . . this does suck!
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Official Bitching
The other night, I was bitchin to my friend who works for the Prime Minister. I complained mostly about the traffic in the free trade zone which is still very much on my damn nerves. When I got done with my incessant ramblings, I asked him if he could relay a compliment to Sabah Al Ahmad - that I have seen improvements since he has been PM. My friend said, "Why dont' you tell him yourself? We show him all the comments people post to his website." (http://www.dpm.gov.kw/) Finally, an Official way for me to vent!
This could be a good thing. Maybe I will become a regular. Maybe Sheikh Sabah and I will become buds and discuss various happenings around the country. Maybe I can give him my frank oppinion of things. Maybe.... I'll just get my ass kicked out of Kuwait. Ok, but now that I know someone will see something I've rambled about, my world has a different meaning.
Trucks in the free trade zone can't move between 6:30 and 9:30 am and 12:30 and 3:30 pm. At 9 am, they start rolling - causing everyone who is trying to get into the FTZ at that time a major butt pain. At 5:00 - when you would think that they wouldn't allow trucks on the road - there they is! Since the free trade zone is supposed to be international, most of us don't go home at 1:00 like the "normal" Kuwaiti population. We have to wait until international close o'business at 5. It sucks and not in a good way.
This could be a good thing. Maybe I will become a regular. Maybe Sheikh Sabah and I will become buds and discuss various happenings around the country. Maybe I can give him my frank oppinion of things. Maybe.... I'll just get my ass kicked out of Kuwait. Ok, but now that I know someone will see something I've rambled about, my world has a different meaning.
Trucks in the free trade zone can't move between 6:30 and 9:30 am and 12:30 and 3:30 pm. At 9 am, they start rolling - causing everyone who is trying to get into the FTZ at that time a major butt pain. At 5:00 - when you would think that they wouldn't allow trucks on the road - there they is! Since the free trade zone is supposed to be international, most of us don't go home at 1:00 like the "normal" Kuwaiti population. We have to wait until international close o'business at 5. It sucks and not in a good way.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
What I'm Doing This Summer
Last night, I went to a meeting of homeboys (Americans) at a seafood restaurant. I usually don't like these meetings because they are full of Middle-Aged-Fat-White-Men-In-Blue-Suits, yuckity-yucking it up over dinner sans alcohol (unless it is at the U ASS Embassy - which I don't go to anyways because it is too stuffy). I'm having more fun at the meetings, lately, however - primarily due to the fact that I have found some buddies there and I get to flirt non-stop throughout the whole event (secretly giggling about the white men). Last night was no exception. My Buddies are Kuwaitis and we now have a secret code with hand signals and noises that cracks us all up. I am like the bad little kid during group activities. I am The Instigator.
The downside was that I (and several other people) got sick from the dinner. The food was really bad. I should just learn to bring sushi with me in a cooler or something. I don't want to eat anything else anymore.
Ok - except for the little French cafe my new interest (Mr. Paris) took me to last Wednesday. It is at the rear of Fanar under the area where the cinemas are. They have AMAZING steak (that's all they serve). Go there - it's yummy.
Mr. Paris is Mr. Paris because he used to own a hotel - guess where - that's right: Paris. He's Kuwaiti. Also went to school in the US. I met the traditional way: online. Thought he would probably turn out stupid or fugly, but so far, has been rockin my world (to an extent - I don't rock so easily). I have received no flowers as of yet and his attentiveness level needs to be kicked up a few notches (they all need proper training), but he's intelligent; funny; handsome; has all his hair and teeth; and divorced (don't worry - I'm checking out that last part). I'm too damn cynical. I don't take anything at face value anymore. How can you?
I've had a crappy couple of weeks. Have you noticed that odd numbered years SUCK? I always have much more fun during even-numbered years.
Today is father's day. What the hell am I doing here away from my family and it is 120 degrees and dust is now part of my skintone and my job doesn't make me happy and I haven't gotten flowers in a long time?
Oh! Sorry! Brainfart. I'm back.
My sister is at her beach house this weekend in Maryland. No doubt drinking chardonay and eating crabs and going out on their boat, etc. etc. (August, baybeeeeeeeeeee!)
I get to walk over 4' dunes from where my car is parked to my front entranceway (construction). Does that count? When will KHARA FI end the madness?????? I woke up at 5:15 am yesterday to the sound of jackhammers outside my window. I swear to God that I would have thrown something at them, but I would have had to get out of bed to do it (I'm thinkin a potato gun and some rotten tomatos).
Have you been to the scientific center and seen the size of the acquarium? THAT is how much tequilla I am going to drink when I get back to the States in August! Sha-zayam!
The downside was that I (and several other people) got sick from the dinner. The food was really bad. I should just learn to bring sushi with me in a cooler or something. I don't want to eat anything else anymore.
Ok - except for the little French cafe my new interest (Mr. Paris) took me to last Wednesday. It is at the rear of Fanar under the area where the cinemas are. They have AMAZING steak (that's all they serve). Go there - it's yummy.
Mr. Paris is Mr. Paris because he used to own a hotel - guess where - that's right: Paris. He's Kuwaiti. Also went to school in the US. I met the traditional way: online. Thought he would probably turn out stupid or fugly, but so far, has been rockin my world (to an extent - I don't rock so easily). I have received no flowers as of yet and his attentiveness level needs to be kicked up a few notches (they all need proper training), but he's intelligent; funny; handsome; has all his hair and teeth; and divorced (don't worry - I'm checking out that last part). I'm too damn cynical. I don't take anything at face value anymore. How can you?
I've had a crappy couple of weeks. Have you noticed that odd numbered years SUCK? I always have much more fun during even-numbered years.
Today is father's day. What the hell am I doing here away from my family and it is 120 degrees and dust is now part of my skintone and my job doesn't make me happy and I haven't gotten flowers in a long time?
Oh! Sorry! Brainfart. I'm back.
My sister is at her beach house this weekend in Maryland. No doubt drinking chardonay and eating crabs and going out on their boat, etc. etc. (August, baybeeeeeeeeeee!)
I get to walk over 4' dunes from where my car is parked to my front entranceway (construction). Does that count? When will KHARA FI end the madness?????? I woke up at 5:15 am yesterday to the sound of jackhammers outside my window. I swear to God that I would have thrown something at them, but I would have had to get out of bed to do it (I'm thinkin a potato gun and some rotten tomatos).
Have you been to the scientific center and seen the size of the acquarium? THAT is how much tequilla I am going to drink when I get back to the States in August! Sha-zayam!
Friday, June 03, 2005
Yo, Stupid!
So, I met a man a while back on a blind date. We talked on the phone for a while and then decided to meet to have coffee. We hit it off and there was some chemistry. We talked for a while... I got my flirt on. During our 3 hours of conversation, he told me about a friend of his at work who told him that he shouldn't meet me - that all American women in Kuwait are really fat. Oooooooooh tay. Blinddateman was happy when he met me, and said that he would report the truth to his colleague the following day. Everything fine so far.
Then, Blinddateman called and asked me to dinner the following Thursday and I should decide on a restaurant. So far, so good.
He called back the next day and said, "You don't mind if I bring my friend, do you? He is dying to see what you look like." FUMBLE!!!!
I told him to have a great time on his romantic date with his friend.
What makes people so stupid?
Then, Blinddateman called and asked me to dinner the following Thursday and I should decide on a restaurant. So far, so good.
He called back the next day and said, "You don't mind if I bring my friend, do you? He is dying to see what you look like." FUMBLE!!!!
I told him to have a great time on his romantic date with his friend.
What makes people so stupid?
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