Ode To Stupid People Everywhere

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My life IS weird, isn’t it???

One Year

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mack Daddies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Four Wives

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

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

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

Somebody sent me this

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

Desert Dawg

My goal in life is to be as good a person

as my dog already thinks I am.

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

Snapdragons

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BADA BING

Chairholes, Perverts, and Electroshit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Tale of Two Men

A Tale of Two Men

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Men who are NOT men…

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

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

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

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

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

Too Hot for Sex

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is WRONG with my brain????

Bird….brain…. segue……

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

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

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

I Won The Islamic Lottery

WTF???

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

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

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

Summer Madness

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

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

My friends love me.

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

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

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

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

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

Commercial Facilities - "No Guarantor"

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

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

I Dated Bob's Big Boy

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

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

I have officially hit rock bottom.

Shack Rental: Barbi Beach House Baybee

This is where I'm shacking up with the fam in August on the Outer Banks.

I have the coolest sister in the whole world. This is going to be a way fun summer. The back of the house is on the beach. Just a few more months AND I got my United Flights booked direct to DC. Yippppeeeeeeee. Get those pitchers of margaritas ready!

Go Jimmy!

I love Jimmy Carter. He has the cojones to say what we all feel and the record in office to support his convictions.

… “We now have endorsed the concept of pre-emptive war where we go to war with another nation militarily, even though our own security is not directly threatened, if we want to change the regime there or if we fear that some time in the future our security might be endangered," he said. "But that's been a radical departure from all previous administration policies."
Carter, who won a Nobel Peace Prize in 2002, criticized Bush for having "zero peace talks" in Israel. Carter also said the administration "abandoned or directly refuted" every negotiated nuclear arms agreement, as well as environmental efforts by other presidents.

Carter also offered a harsh assessment for the White House's Office of Faith-Based and Community Initiatives, which helped religious charities receive $2.15 billion in federal grants in fiscal year 2005 alone.

"The policy from the White House has been to allocate funds to religious institutions, even those that channel those funds exclusively to their own particular group of believers in a particular religion," Carter said.

FoodDude Phucked Up My Mood!

Problems exist with pest control everywhere. Establishments just need to control the situation so that customers can rest assured that the food is hygienic. Complaints about service are one thing, but no one wants to take chances when it comes to their health.

Something is being done about the situation at the hotel and they have tried to make amends, so I feel more comfortable that yes – something is being done to correct the problem. They have a lovely new F&B Manager who spoke to me at length about their plans. They have had meetings and created action plans and schedules – which is all I really wanted to know. I have still eaten at their restaurants since the incident - I just haven't ordered anything from that one particular kitchen until I feel comfortable.

I discovered that I have known the inspector for the area all along. I wouldn't say FoodDude is a friend (and he certainly isn’t after the amount of insults he hurled at me when I saw him last night in "I am zee man" after five years – dude phucked up my mood) -- only an acquaintance. He was concerned that the blog would get him in trouble because it may imply that he wasn't doing his job. Well, if the shoe fits.... In my 10 years of visiting the place, I have never personally seen him there.

I am under the impression that he was there because I sent him an SMS and an e-mail detailing the story. He called me while I was there and he said he was coming over. When he arrived, he sat at a table closeby and asked ME to go sit with him to discuss it. Uh, no. I was enjoying my meal with a friend. He eventually came over and talked to me about it.

FoodDude wasn't very interested in checking the conditions of the kitchen (only relaying to us how we can get into the health club for free after 12 am when none of the security is looking. Thanks, but I would rather pay full price for a membership.). He wanted to inspect the kitchen while it was open and all the lights were on/all the people were there. (Which of course is the worst possible time to spot any nocturnal creature.) I told him to go back to the kitchen with a flashlight an hour after closing time. One would think that a food inspector may have known this. He spoke to the manager at the restaurant (who has nothing at all to do with the situation) and smoked sheesha for several hours.

FoodDude wanted me to take the post down about the hotel. I have taken it down – not to appease someone who is worried about the impression of not properly doing a job – but because things have been done by the management to resolve the problem (without the assistance of the local authorities) and to make their customer feel secure.

FoodDude further warned me that the establishment in question is an international chain and implied that I would get in trouble. (He hasn’t seen this blog – only heard of it.) Well hey, the truth is the truth and blogs like this are how things are publicized: Welcome to the world of technology. In fact, Kuwait is on a voyage of improvement (with a good captain and crew). More people are going to have to get off their butts and do their jobs as it all becomes more transparent.

And why does it have to be a negative thing? It isn't all about fines and punishment: It should be about Government cooperation with local businesses (ok, ideally, but yes - it could happen here too). Can authorities who conduct food inspections work hand-in-hand with restaurants in resolving problems that occur? Can they/do they provide advice and assistance so that local establishments serve food properly? If the food inspectors need training, train them.

The website for the Kuwait Municipality (which handles food inspections in the various areas of Kuwait) does not have a function key for English translation. The site appears to contain all kinds of exciting information – only I can’t read it. A large portion of the population in Kuwait is English-speaking. Almost everything here is bi-lingual. Why not allow for that functionality on local government websites, so that consumers can gain access to information for complaints?

Just Ask Desert Girl

For all you inquiring minds, I checked into TSC's JustAsk service and this was the response:

JustAsk

"We are 100% profit free. But you will be liable of paying the handling and shipping fee. Our handling fee is fixed to 4.5 KD on every online merchant you choose to order from the 1st five different items, after five exceeding item will be .300fils additional handling fee. However, if the item is only 1 kind of more than 5 it will be the same fee of KD 4.5 Our shipping fee is depend on the weight of the item. The 1st half kilo will be 3 KD. ... It is preferable to order more than 1 item in the same merchant since the handling will be the same."

So, for my single bottle of Cibu Hiya conditioner, for example,
Item Cost: KD 6.585 ($21.95)
Shipping: 3.330
Handling: 4.500
Total : 14.415

Each additional order is a separate S&H charge.


I spotted The Man. I don't know if he saw me or not. I know, I know - after everything and yet when I see him.... I wish there was just an on/off switch to make your heart stop feeling things. Or maybe some kind of total recall machine that you could eliminate certain memories to make you feel the way you did/do.

Why did he go to Phuket?
Why did he break all his promises?
Why couldn't he do things the right way?
Why did he ask me about money at 4 am after the fight?
Why did everything have to have an ulterior motive?

(She might have been there to gain information, but she's not my friend if that's all she wanted.)
Don't people ever get tired of the games and the hachi? Wallah, it makes me sick.

I digress. Phuckit.

I haven't heard a weather report, but I need to get back out on the boat and have a fun weekend!

Sexy Ride (So to Speak)...

Sexy, isn't it?

So, I'm going to Virginia in August. We are meeting up with the fam on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I've never been there. My younger sister has rented a place on the sea big enough for everybody. It should be a lot of girl fun because my older sister and her daughter will be there too. I can't wait.

Today is mother's day in the US and I sent flowers to my mom, my sister's mom-in-law, and my great-aunt. I love flowiz. They love flowiz. We all love flowiz.

Ever felt like your job is sucking the life right out of you? I swearaGod, I feel like all my personality is gone and I am just left with a shell of my former existence. Ok, not that the past 18 months of personal life has been a walk in the park either. The Man is still out there somewhere and God hasn't hit him with a stick yet. (My oracle says - June 2008.) You know what - if you had done it the RIGHT WAY.... ok, nevermind. I digress again....

Celebrate, bitches! To try to de-stress, I had a 90 minute facial (fruit mask) on Friday. It was AMAZING and it only cost 6 kd. (God help me, but whenever I say, "facial" my mind automatically goes into dirty-drive. STOP IT!) New Sheryl's Salon in Salmiya. It is a small place, but clean and nice. La Fem wanted 140kd for 2 sessions of about the same thing (maybe the products were different, but still). WTF? I could throw some veggies in my blender and make about 1,000 masks for 140 KD.

This seems to be a week of Undersecretary fun. Don't ask me why, but I have several friends who are - and they called me at the same time. Why? I don't know; perhaps it is to consult on matters of national security? Tee hee.

And now for some peeves:

• Why does Linda on FM99.7 always chop the songs off?
• Why has Kharafi started to do more demolition on my street again?
• Why hasn't the Crowne Plaza made me feel any better about mouse poop in their food?
• Why does Sultan Center's JustAsk service cost so much?
• Why do Egyptian women in 20-year-old-4-door saloon cars cut me off every morning?

Oh - here is a good one: Why can't I find a good gym that I don't have to refinance my invisible house for?? I've been going with the Romanian to check out gyms. The one at the Holiday Inn, Salmiya was good, but unfortunately, a guy from our mutual past goes there and he ranks very high on the scale of "ick and ew" and he'd be in our faces all the time. "Desert Girl, call me..." said with a slimy handshake and very lustfully. Ew. Ick. Go home to your wife, loserboy. Anyhoo, Body Lynn was a smelly dump. The CP has potential, but then again if the kitchens aren't clean, what about the gym? I gotta check Marina Hotel and the SAS again. From what I remember of The Palms, there were just too many picolo-playing poser guys in there for me. You know the kind - Speedo Men. I really do need to find something close to home or I will never go. I checked out Champions in Jabriya, but I know that I'll stop going after a while because I hate Jabriya traffic.

What to do, baba? I tell you what I HAVE been doing: Staying at home on my sofa with my dog and Thai carry-out food.

Of Mice and Men (Thanks, Evil!)

Git jiggy wi' it. na na na na na naa na.... (Purgaliscous style)

Is Bluetooth dead in Kuwait? I’m just wondering, because I haven’t had any stimulating Bluetooth action in a while. When we went to the Emirates – no one does it down there. Well, the men down there don’t even smile at you. It is totally cold. Brrrrrr. I try to get creative about it with my girlfriends. When I go out with The Romanian, we double-time them with nicknames of “Pull my hair” and “Slap my A&%”. If one of my girlfriends gets bluetoothed, sometimes we wage war just for fun, sending a deluge of Bluetooth messages to the guy. The stupider he is, the more fun it is for us. Then, we just leave. I’m sure they do too – eventually – on the short bus.

I got Bluetoothed by a visiting Saudi guy recently – workably cute. I called him (because he’s visiting and I can get rid of him). He returned the call at 2 am, asking if I could go to see him THEN at the hotel. I said, ‘No.’ He said, “Why?” I said, “Cause I’m not a whore.” End of discussion. I don’t believe in mincing words.

Remember way-back before caller identification when idiots used to call randomly until they got someone interesting to answer the phone? I had something like that happen the other day – although I am pretty sure that someone gave this creature my number. He sent me his picture on MMS. I just have one thing to say: If you are butt-ugly, there is no reason to spread your picture around or try to meet women that way. WTF. It had to be a joke.

Is it because the weather is changing/getting hotter that all the mac daddies come out of the woodwork? My friend called me the other day – completelyshitfaced drunk to talk dirty to me (I was in the office). (Obviously, this is The Universe phuckin with me over the pranks I pull during Ramadan.) Never in the 7 years that I’ve known this guy has he ever said anything slightly dirty. I couldn’t believe the stuff he was saying. I had to laugh.

My girlfriends are trying to get me to go out and date more. WWWWHHHHHYYYYY??? I keep meeting stupid men, so why should I bother? Stooooopid men – not your average idiots. Even the ones who cleaverly disguise themselves as smart men turn out to be morons in the end (I’m not naming names, but you are such a fool.)

Anyhoo, have you ever re-visited a guy who you have dated before and you couldn’t remember why you didn’t want to continue dating him because he is amazingly attractive? Ok, let me just say this (so I can look back and remember it later): There is always a valid reason why you didn’t call him back, you moron. I saw a guy at the Crowne Plaza (the night before the Vermin incident) that I went out with something like 3 years ago; tall, gorgeous smile, great looks. So, we agreed to meet again at the Crowne Plaza for coffee – just the two of us. We planned it for like a week and had several discussions about meeting at the CP in FARWANIYA. I got there – wearing my best-new-butt-hugging-jeans and looking (as well as can be expected after a 10 hour workday) fabulous. He called me and said, “I’m in the lobby. Where are you?” I told him I was in the lobby too, but I couldn’t see him. This continued for a few minutes until I figured out that he was in the Salmiya Holiday Inn. Seeeeeeeya! This is why I don’t date (as often as I used to/could). Honestly. I can’t even tell you how hungry and tired I was. Soooo, God in His Grace sent Bobarino to the rescue (who was just walking into Sakura and I had a really nice dinner).

The Fireman is starting the “You my woman” BS. I hate that. I’m MY woman. He’s been out with me ONCE and he’s already started the “don’t do this, don’t do that” routine. Boyfriend is in for an interesting ride (so to speak). Beg me, baby.

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1300 Volts of Sucking Action

After ten years, I have no longer been getting the sucking action I used to. My 800 volt machine just didn’t suck like before. It would blow, but it wouldn’t really suck. I was heartbroken. Immediate action was required.

Where in Kuwait do you go when your sucking power no longer functions? It was a perplexing dilemma. I searched in Hawalli and then I turned to Humood (Tower, that is).

Yes, dirty-minded perverts, I am talking about a Hoover. Jashanmal is the Hoover agent and they’re located in Humood (Tower, that is). I first went to Hawalli in search of the perfect sucker, but then I was directed towards the center of Kuwait – downtown. Yes people, that is correct; if you want pure sucking satisfaction you must go downtown. There is no if’s, and’s or butts about it: go downtown. When in doubt, go downtown. It is the answer to many of life’s problems.

At first, I turned to the Lebanese sales guys in Al Ghanim. While they present a nice package, they just don’t have the knowledge of downtown.

Yes, we are still talking about Hoovers, dirty-minded perverts.

Now, at Al Ghanim, they sell the Hoover with swirling action. While swirling action presents a nice display, the knowledgeable guys at Jashanmal were able to tell me that pure sucking power doesn’t come from swirling; it comes from a higher voltage motor (I knew that).

I went home with the 1300 volt “Fold-Away” upright Hoover with the sucking hose attachment. It comes pre-assembled (“just add dirt”). I immediately turned it on when I got home and let me tell you – it is a dream; it doesn’t blow, it just sucks (and it has a light). My last 800 volt Hoover lasted me 10 years. I am hoping that I will get as much use out of this new one.

Yes, dirty-minded perverts, I am talking about housework.

Teleban Tactics in Kuwait?

Everyone wonders why there is no foreign investment in Kuwait. Everyone wonders why Kuwait is lightyears behind Qatar, UAE, Bahrain. So much for the most democratic press in the Gulf. Some local newspapers wouldn't even publish this story. What is next? Is the Teleban moving in? Bring back Saud Nasser Al-Sabah to the Ministry of Information!!!! Give someone a chance to move the country FORWARD.

Virgin Megastore shut down by (Dis) Information Ministry
Kuwait Times Published Date: April 28, 2007 By Nawara Fattahova, Staff Writer

KUWAIT: The Virgin Megastore at Marina Mall was shut down late Thursday by inspectors from the Ministry of Information. Fistfights also broke out between teenagers gathered around the store to witness its closure. Officials charged that "it is not only the small stores that do not respect the ministry's rules and regulations, but even big, renowned stores are resorting to breaking and openly flouting the laws". The inspectors pasted red stickers of the ministry stating that it cannot be reopened unless approved by the Ministry of Information on all entrances and exits of the store.

Along with the stickers, a copy of the resolution detailing the reasons for closing down the store was also pasted on one of the showroom's windows. People surrounded the place from 9:30 pm till about 11:00 pm, until after the inspectors left. Curious onlookers were heard asking the inspectors the reasons for the closure of the store and for how long would it be closed. Unsavoury rumours were also beginning to circulate over why the store was shuttered.
Hussein, one of the inspectors, explained that the reason for the closure was due to the store breaching the regulations of the Ministry of Information and not cooperating with them. "They keep selling banned items like magazines and CDs here," he said. He added that they were given several warnings and reminders in the past, but they went unheeded. "We are here to enforce the law, as it must be applied on all," he told the Kuwait Times.

The period of the closure is still not known yet. "We are not sure till when the store would be closed. They will definitely have to pay fines and all illegal items they were selling will be confiscated. They have to communicate with us, even though they are an internationally renowned store. Everybody must respect the rules," Hussein asserted.

On why did they chose Thursday night for the closure, although it is a government holiday, and whether they did it on purpose to attract the attention of the large number of people who were present, the inspector smiled broadly (phucking typical) but was noncommittal.

Write to Richard Branson! Tell him to come to Kuwait and face these guys. Press@virgin.com or customerservices@virginmega.co.uk.

Pornbomb

I learn a lot from CSI. For example, the other night I watched CSI Miami and I learned about a “pornbomb” or “pornado”. This has led to all other kinds of things (like me calling my girlfriends up in the middle of the night, giggling, just to be able to call them a “whorenado”; leading to lots of name calling like “whoricane” and “whorecano” etc.). A pornbomb or pornado, by-the-by, is when someone sends someone else an e-mail that explodes with erotic photos all over your screen. When you try to get rid of it or start deleting them, it only makes it worse. Very interesting.

CSI fascinates me. When I go to the US and there is a CSI marathon (for example) on the Spike Channel (which is supposedly a guys channel, so therefore I must be a guy), I sit in front of the TV in my boxers scratching my balls… no… wait a minute…. I sit there in my make-up (lots of lip gloss) and my hair done, wearing my Victoria’s Secret deep-plunge-something lingerie with plenty of feather pillows nearby just incase one of my girlfriends drops by and we get into a fight. Yeah. That’s it.

Who says girls can’t be into (perceived) guy things? Huh? Who said? I’ll beat the crap out of them.

Which reminds me of something – I have a friend who is so mad at his boss (with good reason – the guy is a butthole) that he called me to tell me that he and one of his equally warped friends are going to buy abayas and niqab to wear when they either beat-the-crap-out-of or scare-the-crap-out-of his boss. That cracked me up. The thought of two big men in abayas bitch-slapping some unaware white dude just makes me giggle. They are too chicken shit to do it, but regardless, it is funny.

My right eye has been blinking for 2 days (which is supposed to mean that good news is coming). As if it isn’t already bad enough around here – I’m pretty sure men are thinking I am trying to pick them up now because of the constant winking. WTF. Why do these things only happen to me?

I’m hungry. For some reason, The Romanian and I have been on a pineapple fried rice binge for the past several weeks. We went to Abu Dhabi – we searched for pineapple fried rice; all we found were STRONG mixed cocktails (thanks to my new bartender friend at the Hilton) and pad Thai. We got back here, we searched for pineapple fried rice (no cocktails, but good PFR at the Oriental Cuisine restaurant in Dasman). Nobody around these parts really knows how to make good PFR anyhoo. It is supposed to be served IN a pineapple. Don’t they know that?

Abu Dhabi was da bomb (lots of bombs in this post, eh?). I had a lot of work to do there, but lots of good times too. If you are ever in Abu Dhabi, the Emirates Palace is awesome. Even if you just go for coffee, it is amazing. Abu Dhabi is nice, but kind of backwards in a way. You hardly see any women driving and almost none out at night. Everybody thought we were Russian hookers; Even the Indian and Egyptian guys were trying. The Romanian can put any man to shame cursing in Arabic and she let them have it. We’re not hookers, but damn if we can’t swear like them! I would have thown my shoes, but I like my shoes too much. In reference to the male Emiratis: The Emirati mens down there are kind of cold. Sorry to say it, but it is true. Quite unable to approach. It is a very bad place to go for geezing. No Bluetooth. No sideways glances and direct-eye-contact smiles. We got geezed just getting off of the plane in Kuwait and both of us sighed with relief that we were back home where the men are men and the sheep are scared.

I have business in Qatar next. I have a whole LOT of friends there who I haven't seen in decades. I can get into trouble in any Gulf country - why limit myself?

My phone bill last month was 200 KD. That is a personal record. I can’t even blame it on business calls. It was the 4 hour phone calls to my new best friend (even though we hung up and took turns calling each other – I guess her phone bill must have been equally as high). Did I say 4 hours? Yes, I did. Even when I was a teenaged girl, I never talked to anyone that long. I had some marathon phone calls to boyz, but never for 4 hours. Let’s just say that we have had a lot to talk about. I am totally in love with this new friend. I never thought in a million years that I would like her so much – or that we would have so many things in common – or that we would make each other laugh until it hurts. I know, sick individuals like Purgy are going to read something sexual into it. Au contraire. Sometimes you just meet people that you feel like you have missed your whole life and didn’t know it. I call her “Sheherazade” because every night is another story and I am totally hooked: maybe the phone calls will stop after 1001 nights!

Anyways, things could have been so different if we had met each other before. Our lives would have been affected in different ways: probably for the better. It would have positively affected several other lives as well. Honesty and communication are the keys to healthy relationships and thats all it would have taken. But you know – everything happens for a reason. God has a plan. Maybe you only meet X to help Y. One never knows, do one?

By the way, I had a great time on my birthday. (I haven’t had too much time to write about all the stuff I should.) Bobarino arranged the whole thing at Sakura (of COURSE). They were so nice to me there with a big “Happy Birthday (Desert Girl)” banner and flowers and martini glasses filled with red water with candles in them that looked like cosmos! Who was there? Slapperella and Zaitoon, Bunny, Romanian and some guy (she met when she got arrested at the airport for not paying her MTC bill on our way to Abu Dhabi), The Sheikha, the 2 Brazillians, their husbands, E&D, my Blondie friend, and a Nasser friend (not Naz – as he and Mrs. Naz were suspiciously absent). Fishgirl had just returned from a trip, so she wasn’t there either. I invited Sheherazade and her friend, but they couldn’t make it. I also had a little hook-up with the Psychic Bedu, but he dissed me right before the Abu Dhabi trip and so he wasn’t invited to the gala. Alas, the hook-up pretty much ruined a great friendship. I should have waited until after my birthday. Duuuh. I’ve never been good about timing. Maybe we can be friends later. Dunno.

Me and my Inner Bitch

My life is a drama of historical proportion. I can’t really write about my latest drama because

A. No one would believe me
2. Someone might be reading this and find out too much about it (I can certainly elude to it, though can’t I?)
C. I don’t want additional drama (or DO I?)

I can only say that it is interesting and I hope to make it into a movie someday. Then again, refer to “A”.

I suppose, to a certain extent, I entertain the drama. I do. I don’t always welcome it, but once it is here, I am so intrigued by the various ways I could analyze it and decipher it that I begin to enjoy it. Varied perspectives fascinate me and I’m always looking for new ways to look at something or to see it from another point of view. I guess you could say, “We accept your drama as a gift.”

Well, in this case, I have seen the drama in question from a LOT of different perspectives now. I think I have a very good picture (3D even). I think that sometimes, if you are lucky and you are a good person, God shows you the light (so to speak). You see all kinds of things that relate to the truth of the matter.

Occasionally, my inner bitch gets the best of me. (Waaaaaa okeeey.... Perhaps a little more often than “occasionally”.) For the most part, I try to be a good person and do the right thing. Like this month – I helped several people find jobs and I am really happy about that (they are church-going folks who are actually praying for me and for that – I am very thankful because I need all the references I can get). I’m not a recruiter, but I know that I am good at resume writing. I also don’t do a lot of charitable things, so maybe this is a form of “giving back” or “paying it forward”. I try to help anybody who asks. It is a way of leashing the inner bitch from time to time.

It didn’t work yesterday; the inner bitch got out and blew up at every TCN nurse within the perimeter. I waited for a full hour at the International Clinic to see the Orthopedic doctor (to check on my slipped discs from the Circus Sex of 2006). I finally lost it. Unfortunately, Dr. Bones is located on the same floor with pediatrics and the OB/GYN. I had four very nasty little kids either touch me or sneeze/cough on me.

WTF do people think I like kids and want their brats climbing on me? I know I have one of those “nurturing” faces (which is fine when it comes to sex, but not to child bearing). I don’t really like kids all that much. The toddlers smell like poop and the smaller ones make noise all the time. Why would I want to be involved in all that? “Oh, Desert Girl… you will feel different when you have one of your own…. “ highly unlikely. I like the process, not the output. For the amount of practice at the process that I’ve had, I know that I would have the absolute best quality baby on Earth. It would come with its own ISO certification (hopefully for HAZMAT disposal). It would come with its own MS Project schedule on feedings, HAZMAT removal, and uptime/downtime.

Ok and while we are on the subject of kids (mine = perfect; yours = icky): Why don’t parents in this part of the world teach their obnoxious little poopers to cover their damn mouths/noses when they sneeze or cough? Why should THEY get offended when I cover my own mouth/nose (sometimes with the collar of my shirt) when their kids sneeze, cough, spew in my direction? Ick! I know I caught something yesterday; I couldn’t spray enough travel-sized disinfectant on me in the waiting room. I am susceptible to nasty germs and kids have the worst. People here THINK that living with a house pet is unsanitary, but I have NEVER seen anything come out of my dog like I’ve seen come out of some of the kids around here. And I don’t care how cute you dress them – if you haven’t taught your kids basic manners, they are just nasteh.

There are some kids that I can semi-stand; like my neighbors’ kids. When they first moved in, I had visions of things dropping on their heads after repeated door slamming and screaming fits in the hallway in front of my door (which must be made of paper). Whylie Coyote repeatedly blew them up in my fantasies. I tried taking myself to their level: when they screamed, I screamed back. When they had a crying fit in the hallway; I imitated them from the opposite side of the door. I sent my dog out into the hallway to bark. Nothing worked. Now, I have tried to reason with them and it is having a better affect. I speak to the six-year-old the same way I would speak to any of the men I date (again, like six-year-olds, but with a twist): “Bashar (neighbor kids’ name), you are a man. I respect you. You should respect others. Please don’t slam the door. I need to sleep because I am tired. Do you understand, honey?”

I have learned that men, like six-year-olds, generally respond if you push your boobs a little forward and up and talk like a little girl. Most of them giggle just like six-year-olds and promise never to do (whatever) again. Until the next time something slams.... tee hee.

Ya Ma Owed

Have you ever really wanted to trash someone on your blog and you just couldn’t do it because you are too phuckin classy? That’s my problem.

Recently, I have been told that I’m ugly by someone I cared about dearly. But perhaps the person who calls a person ugly is ugly, n’est pas? So sayeth my sister who is a slayer of mean people everywhere. I have been running around trying to collect affirmations. Coming from anyone else, I am sure it wouldn’t have stung me, but I have also found that he has told other people that I am ugly too. Those of you who know me – do you think I’m ugly? Shut the F up - I am too self-confident, but no woman wants to hear this kind of crap from a man they love/d. And no - I'm not going to lower myself to saying anything herein regarding his physical SHORTcomings. I wouldn't do that. I'm way too phuckin classy.

Have you ever really wanted just to haul off and bitch-slap someone, but you know you couldn’t do it because you are too phuckin classy? That’s also my problem.

I don’t talk about people’s personal appearance (unless you have 3 boobs or something and then I can’t help myself) because my parents taught me better. In fact, I often don’t even remember what a person looked like beyond their eyes – because that is what I look at to determine what kind of a person they are. Do I miss things? Hell yes – and that is why I usually bring my girlfriends who will nit-pick a person to death starting with their shoes and girth of their fingers. Thank God – they have been my saving graces on a few occasions.

Anyhow, I know that a lot of things in life I just deserve because it is karma; what bad things I have done will eventually come around to bite me when I don’t expect it. Apparently, this is one of those occasions.

What I am really trying to say – Ya ma owed - Inta sh’aku?

Ok – on to another more pleasant subject: I got my new car. I lie. My sister “buys me” a new car every several years for me (her) to use during the one month of the year that I am there. I don’t even know if she’ll allow me to drive this one, however. It is big-bad-black Merc with the AMG package. I can smell the new-car-interior now….

I had the opportunity to hang out with Psychic Bedu recently. What a teddy bear. I just adore him. I want to hug him all the time. You know - sometimes God just brings you people to make you feel PRETTY. Sometimes God also brings you people who you just want to hug all the time.

Bunny has been really supportive lately. (He makes me feel PRETTY too.) He worries about me. He’s my knight on a white stallion (ok, Caprice). Like he says, “You are one of my flock and I feel like it is my duty to protect you.” I know – aaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwww, right? Yup.

Did any of you see that cruel stunt in the Kuwait Times yesterday? BASTARDS. It was even funnier because one of my friends in the Emir’s office forwarded it to me before I heard about it in the paper. That is just SO WRONG. Here it is: ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT


Alcohol legal in Kuwait
Published Date: April 01, 2007


KUWAIT: In a surprise move aimed at fostering tourism, Kuwait's government announced yesterday that alcohol would be legalised in Kuwait starting May 25 after more than 40 years of prohibition. Alcohol will be available only in five star establishments or at state liquor outlets and sold only to non-Muslim expatriates holding a liquor-consuming ration cards. Each expatriate will be allowed five bottles of liquor or 100 bottles of beer per month at government regulated stores. Any Muslim caught buying or consuming alcohol will face stiff penalties.

In December 1964, Kuwait's government banned all liquor within its borders following a series of drunken driving fatalities, primarily of citizens. Prohibition triggered a flourishing underground bootlegging trade both in smuggled alcohol and bathtub gin.

This past week, international beverage firm Eastern Liquors has won the sole distribution license and will be partnering with local establishments for sales and marketing. EL is a regional leader in beverage distribution, with operations in Abu Dhabi, Dubai, Doha and Manama.

Sources within the security forces told Kuwait Times that a special squad of 225 local police have already undergone training in the United Arab Emirates and Britain for handling drunk drivers. Persons caught driving while intoxicated face up to five years in jail and a KD 10,000 fine.
Establishments that will be licensed to sell alcohol include ...

Continued on Page 8...


Happy April Fools’ Day
- Kuwait Times

Ostara

Ostara: "A time of fertility and sacred balance between night and day... renewal. Flowers, eggs, and rabbits (all things that I love) are symbols of Ostara. It is a time of new beginnings and possibilities. Ostara is a time of deep gratitude. It is a time of celebration, as the light tips the balance and overtakes the night..."

I usually love this time of year. Everybody knows I love Spring.

And perhaps what I have encountered recently is all part of Spring and the cycle of life; of "light" revealing what was lurking in the darkness: When people aren’t who you thought they were. When words you believed in with pieces of your soul turn into well-calculated lies. When good things turn bad; and bad things turn around in ways that you never would have imagined could be so good (often seeming almost heavenly in warmth and kindness). When what you spent so long wishing for, hoping for and praying for becomes reality – but in all the wrong ways and for all the wrong reasons; and is suddenly so WRONG. Everything feels strange right now.

And Nothing I believed about a very large part of my life was reality.

I have discovered things that question my judgment and leave me confused. I wonder how I could genuinely believe that a person was good, only to find that I was entirely wrong. I thought I was much more perceptive.

So, in order to combat evil, I have been exceptionally nice to people this past week. I am trying to do the right thing and not to hurt anyone. I’ve been working harder trying to fix some problems at work and trying to help people who need me. I am thanking God often for what I have (including some wonderful people and several recently-sent angels) and what He has shown me. I'm weeding out people who aren't really my friends and trying to work harder at communicating with those who are. What else can you do?

Slapperella and the Romanian are always by my side; partners in crime and everything else. They are both depressed and weery from the drama: If something happens to one, it happens to all. It kind of goes without saying. Desert Dawg has been very supportive. She sleeps next to me and tries to protect me from all the bad things in my head. She instinctively seems to know when I’m about to cry and puts her little dog hands on my face. I honestly don’t know what I would do without her. Late night when everybody else goes away, she is always within reach.

I guess sometimes you just have to see what is going to happen next and let the tide take you. There just seems to be a whole lot of it all at once. Spring is the time for new beginnings and changes. I know who I am. I believe it must be part of a plan.

Little Messages from Dad

With the anniversary of my dad’s death quickly approaching on March 29th, I am thinking about him a lot. I am paying more attention to little signs to see if he is sending me any messages or to let me know that he is with me. I think so.

Some of the signs are less likely to be signs – like just thinking about him when I had to use my air pump that he gave me before I came to Kuwait “just incase your tires need filling”. That little air compressor was probably the best thing I brought with me from the States. I’ve used it often throughout the years. Like this morning when the tire was flat and none of the little “puncture stores” in my neighborhood were open.

This morning in the shower, I found myself singing a song that my dad liked. I hadn’t thought about that song for a long time and yet it was stuck in my head. I’ve often thought of that time right between asleep and awake as a time when you could more clearly receive messages.

This afternoon, I had a meeting this morning with a man who turned out to look very similar to my father. He even wore the same 70’s fashion of glasses frames that my dad did. It kind of freaked me out and I was finding it hard to look at the man. He probably thought that I am mental or had something wrong with my eyes.

I told my sister that I would move back to Virginia in March. I had it all figured out right after The Man and I parted ways, but even before that – I had been thinking about it when my Dad died and The Man wasn’t behaving as well as he could have/should have. I should probably go. It is harder all the time even to think about it. I know my dad always wanted me there and not here.

Warm and Fuzzy Emirati

In 1998, I had to go to Abu Dhabi on some bidness and one of the guys at the company I was visiting was incredibly kind and hospitable. I hadn’t met him before, but we corresponded via phone calls and e-mails and when we finally met - it was as if we had known each other for forever (isn’t it cool how that happens sometimes?). Abu Dhabi Dude is originally Saudi, but has close family in Kuwait. His company also has a branch here, so he has the potential to be around. When I got to AD and met him, I had to scrape my jaw off the floor – he was drop-dead gorgeous, tall (I’m talking REALLY tall – like 6’7”).

There was only one problem: He had just gotten married and he and his beautiful princess-looking-&-very-nice-wife were totally in love. They took me out to dinner, showed me around town and were just two very dear new friends. I asked him if he had any single brothers and moved on.

Flash to present day: I was supposed to go back to AD on business as I do every now and then and I decided to give the guy a call. I didn’t expect him to work for the same company. I didn’t expect him to have the same number. I did expect that he and Mrs. Abu Dhabi Dude were still married, had several children by now and would still be as happily in love. I was wrong on all counts.

When I initially got in touch with him, I sent him an SMS asking if he remembered me and saying that I would be in AD that night. He SMSed me back that he would be happy to see me, but he was still in Kuwait and would be leaving in a few hours. I thought that we were probably booked on the same flight (at 10). I called him just after my business trip was cancelled (that was weird). He said that he had missed his flight the night before and was leaving on a flight that was leaving at 8, but had a few hours and would I like to meet him and his uncle for coffee. How ironic. Could it be fate or kismet – or just the Universe phuckin with me somehow? If my trip hadn’t been cancelled, I would have missed seeing him (ok, but maybe I would have met up with him in AD – dunno).

So, I drove home and put on my Lucky VS Push Up Bra and some more war paint and went to meet them. He was still gorgeous, and it was pretty obvious that he thought the same of me. We had a really nice conversation with his uncle who is some big sheikh muckity-muck. It was like I knew him for forever too – and get this – I knew his brother in Washington way-back-when. I remember his brother because he was incredibly funny and made me giggle. It is funny how many people I knew in Washington that I never see here in Kuwait.

I drove AD Dude to the airport: a trip that was waaaay too short. He held my hand most of the way. We made plans to get together in a neutral country (happy sigh) later. His uncle invited me to Iraq, but I think I'll pass on that one.

I only saw him for a few hours, but I feel totally recharged today. Isn’t it weird that something like that can just happen and all of a sudden – you are transformed by happiness shining into your crappy week (month, in this case)?