Some People Still Have It…

Sense of Humor, that is. And no, in most cases I don’t consider satire or sarcasm brilliant humor. Good humor is easily understood and a majority of people should be able to relate and find it funny; at least in my opinion.

This morning I did something that I’m sure many of you would consider comedic; given the country we’re in. I chased down a BMW on one of the main roads, made him pull over, then asked him ever so politely if I could take a photo of his car and post it on the net. Naturally, I was apologetic for making such a scene, but I HAD to share this photo.



I’m thinking I need one of those on the back of my car and possibly one for my blog to match.

I’m Blogging just to piss you off! I’m sure a lot of you already assumed this and it’s working, huh?

Any digital Artists feel like creating such a banner for me? If it’s pretty enough, I might just pay you for it?

Should Have Been Published in 7Days and Not Gulf News

How the FUCK is it morally correct, or even responsible for a parent to leave a nine-year old alone in the house; and better still, TILL MIDNIGHT!?

Where I come from there’s a word for this, “NEGLECT”. And neglecting your children can result in your Social Services taking your child(ren) away from you and putting them up for adoption.

This is a BIG YaY for both the officer who cheerfully helped this chap get into his house and the parent who needs parenting classes; and can’t blame others should his son befall some tragic accident or nasty fate, while home alone.

At least there’d be a chance, had this been published in 7Days rather than Gulf News, that ONE letter would be published in response, putting this ‘father’ in his place.

‘Allah’ is NOT the Name of God

I wrote a letter to the editor of 7Days a year or so go. I signed it UmmAli. I was disgusted by the responses directed at me; the evidence of sheer ignorance of basic local or Arabic terms, as most of the responses referred to me as Mr. Ali.

Granted, I’ve been here over a decade and I’ve probably a little more local interaction than the majority of expatriates here, but it didn’t take any of that for me to want to learn the basics.

For all your information, ‘Umm’ translates to Mother of, when prefixed to a name. Thus, making the name ‘UmmAli’ translate to ‘Mother of Ali’.

Considering this neglect most bitching foreigners have or had to learn the basics about local language, culture, traditions and even religion I thought I’d give you all a short-should-be-learnt-language course.

As mentioned above, ‘Umm’ means ‘mother’ or ‘mother of’; likewise fathers are given the term ‘abu’ or locally pronounced ‘bu’. UmmAli means mother of Ali. BuAli means father of Ali. Kindly remember this in the future.

Since I’m on about pretexts to names I might as well move on to what I’d guess is the most commonly misunderstood word, when it comes to Islam or the Arab world: Allah.

Allah is not the name of God. ‘Allah’ is the Muslim term for God, which can be broken down into two parts; ‘Al’ meaning ‘the’, and ‘Illah’ meaning God. The only difference between the English word for God & the Arabic one is the pretext: ‘The’.

This insures that Arabic word for God can not be used as a plural (Gods), or be given gender (Goddess), in the Arabic language, etc.

It simply amplifies that there is only ONE God. In the Quraan, Allah refers to Himself with multiple names which all reveal His qualities; i.e. the Controller (al-Badi), the Creator (al-Muqit), Knower of all hidden things (al-Batin).

I hope you’ve enjoyed your lesson for the day. I also hope that this might inspire you to continue expanding your UAE cultural understanding on your own.

You can find more basic Islamic terms in the English book A Basic Dictionary of Islam, by Ruqaiyyah Waris Maqsood, ISBN 81-85063-30-3

UAE Government Does NOTHING Good You Can See?

How many of you Pro-UAE-Expatriate-Bloggers-Who-Only-Bitch-To-Make-Things-Better-&-Do-Claim-to-Note-the-Good-Here bothered to comment on or even take note of this:

UAE rescue team arrives in Indonesia
posted on 30/05/2006
Solo - A UAE search and rescue team arrived here yesterday to assist in the on-going search and rescue operations for the victims of the devastating earthquake that has hit the Indonesian island of Java. Headed by Colonel Khalid Abdul Latif Al Dousary, Head of Ambulance and Rescue Unit of the Abu Dhabi Police, the team was dispatched on the orders of UAE President H.H Sheikh Khalifa bin Zayed Al Nahyan. The UAE team is the first Arab and the second international team to offer support along with the Japanese team. (Emirates News Agency, WAM)

Taken From: UAE Interact

Wadda ya know? It’s not just throwing around money to flaunt their mass amounts! But actual hands on, people-helping-people charity!

UAE’s the first Arab, and second internationally behind Japan to show charity; offer support; etc. I suppose Bush and his mates are too damn busy plotting their Iranian strategy, or masking their failure over, while pretending to reestablish New Orleans to possibly put a rush on saving the lives of others.

Please don’t give me distance bullshit when defending the #1 Super Power for being a little late in offering help here. Fedex can deliver a package in approximately 48 hours. I’m pretty sure rescue deserves a quicker response than a damn package.

Please STOP and see the GOOD the UAE does, not only for its own people, but also for the bitching expatriates homed here and internationally.

Maybe if the rest of you west illuminating bunch didn’t continually worship the way you do, I wouldn’t have to make such an exaggerated-dramatic-scene about the faults to get the fucking point across about how much GOOD there really is here.

Dubai Zoo: Some People are Animals Too

I killed a bird this morning.

And though I admit to being an animal at times, this doesn’t make me one. Human animals are more like the Satanic Horse Breeder I went to high school with in Canada, who decided to do some sort of funky ritual on my overly-cuddly-fat-cat, that ended in her being shaved and spray painted. I’ll never understand what the fuck this little woman was thinking, but I did get my revenge on her; by violently chopping off her ponytail in the school yard; or rather attempting to. She would have been bald had my scissors been sharper or her hair been less-matted, maybe she wouldn’t have been able to run away crying before I succeeded. Do I feel bad about this violent attempt? Hell no. But then I also believe in the death sentence for convicted murderers and rapists.

It saddened me to arrive in the Emirates and see that animal neglect was widespread and common here. It stretched from the animal market in Sharjah, where all kinds of animals were dying in cages hardly big enough o fit them without food or water, to the children who threw stones at passing cats, to the Zoo where though slightly better, not at all acceptable. It kills me to read about kids throwing cats today on the highway as some sort of twisted sport; or the ‘shooters’ in the more recently built communities who make a sport out of hunting house animals. So much has changed; and yet so much has stayed the same.

I’m not going to rant about Dubai Zoo, or the cruelty of pet shop owners here, or go on about how the animal-terrorists should be punished. Enough people are doing that already. I am going to say that a lot of you have no idea how much this situation has improved over the last few years. You don’t realize that the state of Sharjah Animal market is 1000% better than it was when we first saw it; regardless of the amount of work that still needs to be done. You don’t realize that cruelty to animals here is being addressed and has been a center of attention for a long while.

My mom’s a volunteer for Feline Friends. She’ll be the first to admit it’s not the smoothest run organization. But she’ll also explain to you that Feline Friends, K9 Friends didn’t even exist ten years ago. She’ll also verify that despite the length of the road ahead the UAE has towards animal compassion; it’s covered more than one would imagine over a shorter period of time and the whole society is still working on it.

This morning, I killed a bird as it flew into my bumper on Abu Dhabi Highway. But before that, I packed up the two lovely little kittens, that you all saw posted by Bu3askoor in the UAE community, and have been my roommates for the past couple of nights and delivered them to my moms house where she’ll be sure to get them their shots and have them put up for adoption in Feline Friends open house this Saturday.

No. I’m not an animal for killing a bird this morning; no matter how horrible I feel about it, because it wasn’t my intention and there was nothing I can do about it. I’m not an animal for it, because I do actually go out of my way to help and take care of wildlife. And in fact, I adore most animals the majority of people wouldn’t. In closing this, I’ll prove it and introduce Sultan my deceased friend the Python.

Boys and Girls, My New profile Image:



Yes it is me. And yes Sultan is wrapped around my head. And no I did not kill him. And yes, this is a photo taken of a photo, thus the shitty image. And yes, I did play with the colors and photo editor and do think it looks funky with this shading.

Curiosity Kills the Cat - Possibly My Computer Too

I find some things just way too tempting for my own good.

I don’t know if it’s how tired I am just now, or the fact that I’m pretty sure my eyes won’t function properly enough to read another word typed and I’m not thinking clearly; but curiosity is about to kill me or rather, my computer.
As I always do before I leave the office for the day, I checked my other email accounts. There’s something deliciously fishy about an email that I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t open; but can’t seem to fight that craving off. I can’t delete the thing; because by this time tomorrow curiosity may win and I’ll decide to infect this laptop with a virus just to find out what’s inside this damn thing; or perhaps who it’s from.

Tell me, would I have to be nuts to open this email? Even more importantly was it YOU who sent me this email?



Blah… Good night all.

Why Bloggers Don’t Rule the World

Please click here.

Ugly Camel, I’m SURE your blog is more UAE relevant than mine, huh?

Why not ask Why? Foreigner Women Marrying UAE Nationals

There is so much that can be said on this topic I hardly know where to start.

I suppose I should mention that my marriage to a UAE national was recently brought up as an insinuation that I as an expatriate had intentionally rebelled against the UAE government. A rather shallow and pointless accusation, but none-the less it got me thinking.

There’s a lot of controversy surrounding biracial marriages here. You’ve got a number of girls coming from poorer European countries, whose sole aim is to marry a local man simply because it’ll give them stability; residence visa, local passport possibilities, financial security, etc. And there are certainly a number of national men who wouldn’t mind paying such a price to have a hot blonde at their side. Hell, I know one who openly offered such a ‘package’ to a Bulgarian girl as her visa was about to expire; she took it. But I’ll admit it, that’s not necessarily the norm.

Hot blondes are more fun when there’s no attachment; as a hot blonde and a former wife I can assure you, it’s true.

Then there are those who actually fall in love with a local man; get married and create a wonderfully respectful and respected family.

And you have the ones like me; those of us who didn’t marry for love really, or finance, or nationality; those of us who really didn’t see nationality as a factor but still didn’t marry for any traditional reasoning.

No matter what the motivation for the marriage is, it’s defiantly discouraged by the government. There is a HUGE difference between discouraged & illegal; I might point out for personal purposes.

When was the last time someone asked why? Why are National men discouraged from marrying foreign women and vice versa? And if you think it doesn’t work both ways you’re mistaken. National women with foreign husbands are fighting hand and foot for what is rightfully theirs these days; financial support, citizenship for their children.

The answer to ‘why’ isn’t that hard to find. It took me a total of about 30 seconds to find this newspaper article on Google. It’s because the national women are finding themselves ‘spinsters,’ as Khaleej Times put it, at increasing rates. Of course this is alongside a rather interesting statement concerning divorce rates that is surely biased as it doesn’t give numbers on local/local divorce in the same year to compare with and at best, is contradictive to the ratio stating that the number of national/foreign divorces is less than half the sum of marriages in 2004. This is KT, remember; could you ask for any better?

Regardless of the discouragement, and regardless of the numbers, more and more national men are opting to marry foreign women. I’m neither for or against this; I can see both sides.

The UAE government is trying to hold on to its culture; as foreign influence is spinning out of control here. They’re trying to solve the ‘spinster’ problem, while blindly ignoring the double standards placed on local women wanting to take foreign husbands; a small change of course, may just solve a bigger portion of the problem than they realize.

The UAE women traditionally want more expensive weddings, more lush surroundings, not to mention have more traditional red-tape than a national man today is willing or can afford to take on. And again, from what I’ve been told, it’s almost expected that a man’s mother-in-law interferes in a national marriage. This is a generalization that I’m sure a lot of national men are now making; one that’s most certainly influencing the decision to marry a foreigner.

But let’s not forget that foreign women are, in many cases casual acquaintances of national men at work or in school, making them easier for the men to develop feelings; love for. You really can’t blame or discriminate against a person in this situation if society is forcing this to happen.

I’m also pretty sure that if divorce rates are truly higher in marriages where one side is foreign, its tradition based on shame that disallows divorce to take place in local only marriages. I know a number of women who are perpetually suffering both physically & mentally because of this shame and still can’t and won’t bear the idea of divorce; even if it may be better for husband and wife, as well as any children.

I don’t like the generalization that all national women are too expensive or too high maintenance. And at the same time, I don’t like the idea that foreign/local marriages are corrupting society; as one infamous Sharjah Sheikha would have you believe. Both, in my opinion are racism at its best.

I married a local. I divorced him. Despite popular opinion it wasn’t because he was local; it wasn’t because our cultural differences were so great we couldn’t make it work. Neither my marriage nor my divorce had anything to do with race; or rebelling against the government.

**If you can’t see the joke in my statement about blondes, you probably shouldn’t be reading my blog.

Tainted Defined

Tainted Defined

Learn the exact definition; I learnt it, before I chose the name.

v. taint·ed, taint·ing, taints v. tr.

1. To affect with or as if with a disease.


2. To affect with decay or putrefaction; spoil. See Synonyms at contaminate.


3. To corrupt morally.


4. To affect with a tinge of something reprehensible.

v. intr.
To become affected with decay or putrefaction; spoil.
n.

1. A moral defect considered as a stain or spot. See Synonyms at stain.


2. An infecting touch, influence, or tinge.

From Dictionary.com

I can hear the wisecracks now; about the first definition listed; so allow me to state that the only disease I suffer from is Bipolar Disorder.  Now… Mock as you will…

Twisted: Distorted: Unbelievably Shallow: Sick: In-Serious-Need-Of-Psychological-Help

A sheer sign of a liar lying is obtuse and overreacted denial; defense rather than the natural offense of one falsely accused of lying. A sheer sign of covered-up is impeccable cleanliness. I don't even have to accuse you for you to cover these tracks; your paranoia did it for me.

If you honestly think I don’t know it’s you, you’re sadly mistaken. And if it were possible you could dig your grave with me any deeper, it’s just been done.
All of my passwords have now been changed, thank you very much.

Kindly DO NOT contact me again.

You BUG me… Yes, I mean YOU.

If you are any of the following you bug me, so FUCK OFF!:

On the roads:

• The twat driving under the speed limit in the fast lane though ALL the fucking lanes to your right are either, moving at the same speed as you or are FUCKING EMPTY.


• The impatient idiot pressing on his fucking horn the SECOND the light turns green. May your engine fall out from your car and your mobile’s battery be dead at this time; postponing your journey just a little more.


• The parent who thinks it alright to let their children bounce/jump/stand/otherwise-unrestrained in the car while driving down the street. May you, particularly you, be cursed with some torturous disease that makes it impossible for you to conceive again.


• The slick idiot who thinks driving fast means driving recklessly. Listen FUCK FACE, when I pass you on the left as you slam on the breaks for a ‘radar’, it’s because I KNOW the fucking thing is an empty BOX without a camera. I am NOT challenging you to a race, nor am requesting that you try and ‘out-drive’ me as you weave dangerously in and out of cars to that invisible finish line. There’s a HUGE difference between driving fast and driving recklessly, and yeah I’m fast, but NOT in the middle of traffic where other people’s lives are in danger. And you thinking I’ll be impressed by you idiocy is enough to make me want to strip you naked and leave you in the middle of Citicenter after tattooing your ass with, “Enter HERE for I need to be FUCKED”.

In the News Papers:

• The critic who can’t take criticism. It amazes me how many of your foreign twats bitch about the local customs without considering the insults you bestow upon the local population, who swallow it all quietly. Learn about the fucking culture of the country you’re in, fix yourself, only then should you attempt to better, or bitch about the society here.


• The journalist who doesn’t know how to use spell check, can’t structure a proper English sentence, and thinks it’s alright to publish slang in a serious news article. YOU are half the reason the media here is an international joke. If you work for Khaleej Times, stay there; no one expects it to ever get any better. If you’re in any other publication, quit your job and take up porn; people might take you more serious then. And it’s less painful to get plastic surgery to tighten sagging body parts than it is to actually LEARN about the career path you’ve chosen.

In person (or personality)

• Know-it-alls. Now listen here, you dumb fuck; I may not be perfect, but I’m certainly better than you, so SHUT THE FUCK UP! It’s IMPOSSIBLE that you know something about everything under the moon, and that fact that you constantly ramble like you do, only makes the relevant shit you might have to say blend with the irrelevant until none of it gets heard. If you closed your trap for just a second, you might learn why NO ONE FUCKING LIKES YOU.


• Whiners. These ones really get to me. If you have FUCK ALL positive to say, and choose to be constantly depressed, you might as well jump off a building now and spare everyone else’s ears from your melodramatic, loathsome tales. No ONE wants to hear it. The earth DOES NOT revolve around you, and believe it or not, the shit you think you’ve been through or are going through, ISN’T THE WORST FUCKING THING SINCE Brittney Spears. PEOPLE DO HAVE, AND HAVE HAD IT WORSE. So stop your bitching and do something about it.


• Racism Addicts. You think the world is out to get you because you were born of a certain skin color. You can NOT accept that shit happens to you just because it happens and the same would have happened TO ANY OTHER SKIN COLOR in your place. YOU CREATE MORE RACISM than what already exists; and for that, I’m bias against YOU.

I suppose this is enough for now. But this certainly isn’t the end of my list. As I’m sure you can see, I’m in a shitty mood this morning and to be honest, there’s NO FUCKING REASON for it. So don’t bother asking me what’s wrong. Chances are, it’ll become YOU, if you do.

Dubai: Economy Not Going To Collapse

You heard it here first.

Over the past week, I’ve been tapping into my psychic powers, to determine what exactly is going to happen to the UAE economy in the near future. Take careful note of my disclaimer, before you read my predictions:

I am not a psychic. I have done little to no research on this topic. There is absolutely no reason why anyone should take my predictions seriously, unless they know something about my imaginative brain powers that I myself, do not know. The following is no more than my tainted thoughts about the future of the UAE. If you choose to follow advice or direction from this entry and evidently suffer huge losses to yourself or your loved ones, I take no responsibility. However; if you choose to take my advice as a given and receive psychological, financial or emotional gains, I am entitled to 50%. This is a non-negotiable fee, and failure to comply will result in legal action. Further more, I am not sophisticated enough to know who took what from my blog, or which actions were a result of this entry, thus if you’re smart enough not tell me you made billions in response to this, you can get away scott-free. Most important of all, you must realize that I am fully talking out of my ass.

Prediction 1:

The economy of Dubai is not going to collapse. Rents and other everyday expenses will not decrease, and though eventually there will be a lesser gap in the personal income verses outcome; it will not be while you complainers are still around.

In less than thirty years, Dubai is going to become the Beverly Hills of the Middle East; the hot-spot for the Rich & Famous world wide, to not only vacation but also own a summer (or winter) home. She will let go of her slogan, “The City that Cares”, and take on the more prestigious, “The City of Elite”.

There will be no room for middle or poor class here. All of us, who fall into these categories now and fail to do something about it, will be banished from the great lands; and there will be nothing we can do to prevent it.

Advice: If you are one of the masses digging into your savings accounts to survive here, hoping that soon things will stable and you will once again able to increase those savings through hard work, lacking taxes, & expatriate benefits, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE NOW. Because Dubai will swallow all that extra money she’s given you in the past, before finally giving you no choice but to pack up and head back home (after of course, you’ve competed her sparkling finish), empty handed.

Prediction 2:

Due to the stable massive income the international wealthy folk will pour into the Emirates, the UAE dirham will value more than the US Dollar, and will compete with the ever strengthening for some time Euro; before becoming the worlds most recognized currency.

Advice: For all of you with off-shore accounts (or even a stash of cash in an old shoe box under the bed) in US dollars; swiftly convert all Dollars to Euros before it’s too late.

Prediction 3:

Dubai’s media industry will boom, out-shining the entertainment industry of the United States; creating international award winners surpassing the glory of the era for the US.

No longer will you find conveniently placed Islamic symbols, or hear the Athaan in the middle of a torture scene taking place in some heart-heartbreaking story; indirectly, subconsciously verifying the pseudo-generalization that all Muslims are evil, blood-sucking terrorists. Instead, you’ll find the international masses being left with a taste for Arabic culture in their mouths after each and ever new film.

Advice: Just wait and see. There’s nothing you, or the US can do to prevent this.

Prediction 4:

After the completion of the city that glows and as the majority of the labor force is being shipped out, construction on a ‘top secret’ government establishment will commence. This will be the most sophisticated, most glamorous, most superbly constructed building in the UAE; though very few will learn of its solitary existence; hidden underground in the depths of the dunes between the Emirates & Saudi Arabia.

This Top Secret Establishment will house only the world’s finest scientists & inventors, and mathematicians. The work in-between these secret walls will surface only to make the UAE the world’s one and only true Super Power.

The US will be at our mercy, as their economy will have long since crashed. And as this is the better government, we will show mercy to all those who have caused indescribable pain & suffering to this side of the world, through countless years of unwarranted torture.

Advice: If you are President Bush, or any future president of the United States; if you have any hand in politics within the US, Israel of any of their closest alleys; start your ass-kissing now. One day, you & your country will be at the weaker and of the stick; and you will ask for the Muslims help.

Cute enough to Cheer me up a little…

Click on this link.

Begrudgingly Here

The girl I hired just last week decided not to come today; and is not answering phone calls.

Is it me? Or is there seriously something wrong with the FUCKING PEOPLE LOOKING FOR WORK in this city (or perhaps just this company)?

I’m here. I don’t want to be. I was supposed to be with my son; who is now happily playing with my mom.

I am not a happy camper.

Freedom of Speech – Does Not & Should Not Exist.

I do not believe in ‘Freedom of Speech’. I also believe a hell of a lot of people that claim to believe in it, are pretty fucking confused about what the definition of that, really is. Almost everyone is all for their own personal ‘Freedom of Speech’, but as soon as someone says something insulting, or hurtful or that causes emotional upheaval to them, it shouldn’t (and often times isn’t) be permitted.

The recent Prophet Mohammed (salalhu alhi wasalam) cartoon controversy, the violent reaction to vocal denial of the holocaust, the laws protecting Christianity against slander, and even UAE’s fame for blocking websites, are just a few examples of ‘Freedom of Speech’ and its distortion.

The definition of ‘Freedom of Speech’, put bluntly is to, “outlaw censorship”. International laws also state that using freedom of speech can not be used under multiple pretences; for example defamatory statements. How can you outlaw censorship and censor defamatory statements at the same time? A paradox, I’m sure many will argue. But to me, it’ll never be more than a contradictive set of laws that will never make logic.

Because I have the amazing ability to look up a definition, such as this and can comprehend what it means, I know for certain that I do not believe in the true existence of freedom of speech, nor do I agree with the concept of it.

Talk about a fantasy to murder President Bush in the United States, on any internet server, and see how far the international laws of freedom of speech will get you. You’ve not threatened him. You’ve not ‘defamed’ him. You’ve broken no law. But you’d still be fucked.

So to that, I say FUCK ‘Freedom of Speech’. And to those who actually think is exists or should be implemented, time to take off them tinted-glasses a view the real world; full of contradictions, just like me.

Where is this all coming from? I’ll tell you. I exercised my right to this paradox this evening. It’s something I rarely do. A particular chatter in my chatbox over there, got himself banned from using it. He simply freaked me out. Even though, the conversation itself makes for comedic entertainment, here’s exactly how he did it:

He introduced himself casually enough…



Don’t forget to read these conversations from bottom to top now guys… I promise, this gets good.



Now, note that the Google search words this guy found me by, where “Girl” & “Dubai”. I don’t know about you, but I’m a little put off by guys with such precision based requirements while blog browsing; kind of makes me feel like a little less-unique; a little underappreciated.



And well, I’ll call them the way I see them, won’t I guys?



Fool me once, shame on you… Fool me twice shame on me… But you get an even bigger cookie than when you attempt to fool me twice, and fail miserably both times.



Oops. I’m afraid I’ve really lost interest now.



Thankfully, I didn’t have to respond any further last night. A third party entered and pretty much said all I had to say. Thank you!



You’ll never guess who decided to come back today! How should a girl I hint?



And it looks like my savior returns again; along with another innocent chatter.



Clearly Xeesh, doesn’t have the sharpest comprehension skills.



None the less, twenty minutes later…



Ok, let’s put it as blunt as possible. I tried to say it as smoothly as I possibly could. But enough is enough.



I’m pretty sure I can’t make it any clearer here, guys. I mean, am I not speaking English?



And, since you clearly don’t seem to understand and can’t seem to back off, I’ll have to do it for you; without warning. Thank you Sam, for sorting this bit out for me. You have officially been banned from my chatbox.



Now… I don’t know about the rest of you, but these types of people scare me. Seriously. I will not have anything to do with clingy, over-friendly, and clearly suspicious characters. I might be paranoid, but I’d rather be that than deal with these types of people.

Sam, this whole conversation makes me wonder how much you’d charge me to plagiarize your IQ disclaimer…

Freedom of Speech defined by Wikipedia:

“Freedom of speech is often regarded as an integral concept in modern liberal democracies, where it is understood to outlaw censorship. The right to freedom of speech is guaranteed under international law through numerous human rights instruments, notably under Article 19 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights, although implementation remains lacking in many countries.”

Etisalat: LOVE of my Life; Foreshadow of my Future

Oops, you’re confused again.

This isn’t a copy and paste from today’s newspaper articles about Etisalat possibly launching internet telephony, or cutting international call rates again, or even the potential of a new fixed mobile convergence.

This also isn’t another duplicate complaint consisting of the common rants and raves concerning Etisalat’s proxy, their inadequate but highly priced internet services, or even the general incompetence of their employees. And I’m not going to go on about more paranoid, personal beliefs, like the fact that we’re all being spied on by the big telecommunications monopoly; since the customer service guy who answered my call last night, told me exactly what mobile and model I had, and continued to tell me he could get the same information for any mobile number in the UAE.

The truth be told, I think Etisalat does a pretty good damn job, considering they’re a monopoly, and well, I’ve been here long enough to remember what a real pain-in-the-ass dealing with this monopoly could be like if they didn’t sincerely give a shit.

With that being said, Tainted will continue to tell you a little about Etisalat in her life.

I’m special. I have special things to share with you. You see, I have a long history with Etisalat, both in dealing with them (as everyone in the emirates must, eventually) professionally, and knowing many of them personally.

Now, I remember the good old days, when walking into Etisalat to pay a phone bill was the most tedious task one could muster. I remember the ditsy women behind the counter talking on their mobiles, while giggling with the boys behind them, before getting up and walking away, in complete ignorance to the hundreds of customers waiting in line for service; waiting to give this company money. This of course, was before the technology of internet payments, or payment machines. But the tellers of yesteryears are nothing to what my ex husband once a encountered.

Sometime during my pregnancy, he went to apply for some service, while I was at home. Service is certainly what he got. Gone was the mobile phone from Etisalat teller’s ear and the flattered boy behind her to take away her attention. In place was a nice big bowl of chocolate.

“Take a chocolate,” the woman told him, as she prepared his forms. My ex, not wanting to insult her, reluctantly took a chocolate and ate it. Soon enough the woman made another invitation, “Take another chocolate.” My ex, not a big fan of chocolate politely refused. The woman insisted, “You must. I am celebrating.” Without further protest or enquiry, he took and ate the second chocolate. As soon as he’d finished swallowing she pushed the bowl towards him, “A third, please?” He refused again. “You can even take it home with you, if you want. But the number must be three.”

My ex didn’t know what to say so he simply sat dumbfounded. After a moment, she pushed the bowl even further, “Today, my husband divorced me… for the third time. You must celebrate with me.”

My husband came home and told me the story. I laughed a little, pondered it a little, and even judged the woman pretty poorly. ’How immature can she get? What the hell is wrong with her? Not even divorced a day, and already hitting on other men! And in the workplace!’

Today, I see it as somewhat of a possible foreshadow. I celebrated the fact that I was legally considered divorced three times just over a year ago. I made people celebrate with me.

I suppose it goes to show we’re all pretty judgmental, in nature; even considering things and people we know little or nothing about.

When it comes to Etisalat, I know very little about the services, less about the technology, but the truth be told, I’ve got countless pleasant, heart-touching, and kind stories about or surrounding the employees. I know a few of them personally. Some of them, I’ve known for years. Others are customers of mine; or people I’ve otherwise met professionally. I know of so many advances Etisalat attempts to make for the sake of their customers and with the aim of being a true telecommunications leader at international standards.

My complaints about their general services go direct to most of them, most of the time; and even the highest managers there, seem to take them with sincere interest. A few of them have even been directed to your blogs, and the commenting or complaints you’ve all made.

But I’ve got one little quirk I’m going to share publicly and I don’t believe anyone in the blogging scene has touched this exact topic before.

And since I’m sure of at least ONE Etisalat employee, who is now keeping up with my blog, I have to make a little side comment first; You know I’ve already said it to your face and you couldn’t give a solid answer so now, lets see if you can do so in writing.

Etisalat is an expert at more than telecommunications; or so my sixth sense tells me. Each and every student who graduates from the Etisalat College will at one time or another, during the course of a discussion concerning any aspect Etisalat, must state, “Etisalat is the future”. Without fail and without realizing that even the tone they all say it in is uniform, this sentence must be said. This only proves to a tainted mind that each and every one of them has been severely brainwashed.

Now, I’m not saying that’s a bad thing; just that I want to learn the technique. And I know you guys are just keeping it from me, because you know I’d have the power to rule the world and you’d all be at my mercy if only I brushed up on that one, little brainwashing skill. So come on, out with it. I promise, the last thing I aim to do is preside over a competing telecommunications corporation! You’ll still be the monopoly, you have my word!

If I knew the answer; subsequently it becomes ‘Nothing.’

During the course of a rather comedic, light conversation I had last night, like a razor blade found in candy, I was asked, ‘What do you want in life?’

This is one of those questions that have plagued my mind since about as far back as I can remember. The simplest way for me to answer it is, “I don’t know what I want; I know what I don’t want, though.”

You see, I’m one of those people that knows that she can get what she wants, no matter what that want may consist of. If I knew what I wanted I life, I’d have it by now. And, either I’d learn to want something new, or I’d find contentment immediately; both resulting in me not wanting anything eventually.

Before I came to the UAE, I didn’t have much. I don’t remember that I wanted much, either. Maybe my mom will conflict this statement, but she still tells people I’m messy; a trait I haven’t had since I passed the age of puberty. (By the way, she is here, and has commented. Sooner or later, she’ll create a blog; she calls herself Basil) As far as I remember, I wanted what I needed more than anything else. I didn’t care about the shoes I wore, or the cost of my hemp necklace. I didn’t care for pretty things as much as most here do.

I still remember being given pocket money one day. I must have been younger than seven years old. By choice, I bought Windex, instead of candy like normal kids. I probably could have found some at the house anyway, but when I went to she shop, I saw the Windex and decided I needed to clean the windows in my bedroom, more than I needed candy.

Anyway, that all changed when I encountered society in the UAE. I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again… I was taught to want, when it comes to material things. You can’t force a Mercedes on someone who doesn’t want it; make them drive it for six months, then send them back to the bus and expect them not to long for the comfort again, can you?

Now, I’m just about as shallow as the rest of you. That’s not the point of this blog entry, though.

The point is the UAE has given me a lot of things I wanted, things I thought I wanted, along side a bunch of things no one should ever want. It has changed me dramatically. Evidently, I may be surer about what I don’t want in life, than what I do, but I’m 100% certain about what I want after that; and I have the UAE to thank for it.

And I think I’m going to leave the only thing I truly long for as one of the few things I’ll keep to myself; at least for the time being. Perhaps you’ll consider your ‘life-wants’ and share them with me. Maybe, through seeing them, I’ll figure out my own?

Secret, Private, No Info IP’s – Tainted will Kiss Ass

I want one of these!
Note to the one who really knows how to do things, PRIVATE:



To whom it may concern,

You have managed to tweak my interest and even inspire envy. As I spend more time blogging and watching my statistics, I get the pleasure of seeing and learning about people, places and technology. I am indeed, rather daft when it comes to advancing internet usage.

None the less, I pay close attention to my stats and what they have to tell me. I am now accustomed to multinational IP’s showing up on my screen, along with a bizarre and often entertaining list of words that people have looked up in numerous search engines, before landing on my blog. I have learned to pinpoint certain comments and decipher which IP’s they have come from, thus allowing me a small stance on anonymous lovers and haters.

But you my friend have forced me to raise an eyebrow. When I saw the above IP, giving no information at all about you or your whereabouts, my initial response was, “How might Tainted get one of those”? I did ask a friend of mine, only he wasn’t able to get me an immediate answer. I am an impatient woman.

I appreciate your privacy, but might you allow an admirer some inside information, if there is any, of course? How might I get an IP as glorious as your own?

I am impatiently waiting your favorable response.

Sincerely,



Tainted Female
Swear Meeeeestress - Without the swear-words for the sake of ass-kissing and hopes of getting something she deems valuable in return for the polite request.

*Due to the fact that this email was actually sent this morning, concerning a company that does actually exist, I have changed all names. I just thought this was the best way to keep you all updated on my work situation.


Dear Mr. YuckFou*,

Just thought I would send a reminder your way to let you know I will be leaving this office in nine days exactly and I still haven’t heard anything from you concerning my replacement.

I’m also a little curious, as last night BlowMe* came by and mentioned to Poor-New-Girl*, who had only started yesterday and proves to be very smart and energetic, that you would be coming and you would decide whether or not she had a job. As a result of this, I found her searching the classifieds in search of somewhere else to work this morning. I told her not to worry, and that her position here had already been approved by you. I’m wondering if this comment from him is based on anything other than talk. Will you be coming here soon? Do you have plans not to keep her?

There is an ad in the papers for new sales staff still, and tomorrow I’ll be interviewing a couple of Filipino’s. However, without any answers from you concerning the future of Failing-Company*, I’m hesitant to hire anyone. I’m wondering if you’re considering closing Failing-Company* all together.

Regardless, there are still the over-due fees for salaries and such, as I mentioned in the last email. Kindly give me a response concerning these amounts as soon as possible as I already mentioned to you on the phone that both Helpless-Office-Boy* and I are having a very hard time financially dues to these delays.

As always, I hope all is wonderful over there.

Sincerest regards,



Tainted
Swear Meeeestress *

Note: The title “Swear Meeestress” (with any number of E’s), was allotted to me by Buj, and should now be considered my official designation around here. This is official notification that ‘Swear Meestress” is replacing other known tags for myself, such as ‘attention whore,’ ‘Blogging Drama Bitch’, and even “Psycho Slut”, which no one has dared call me, but I’m sure is soon to come. I reserve the right to reverse this official note and use all designations at any given time.

’nother Note: BlowMe* came by the office this morning, and informed me that YuckFoo* will be visiting us at the end of this month. This should assure that I get some or all of the money due to me, but only after a meeting that is sure to degrade me, my intelligence, and all that I’ve bothered to put into this company despite his veiled wished to leave the thing collapsing. This also means, I will be hysterically-emotional during the days prior to his arrival, though the duration of his visit, and for a short while after his plane has once again left the UAE. I am giving you an explanation now for any short-tempered bitchy comments I may make. Please go fuck yourself, rather than fucking with me during the last days of the month, and don’t be the idiot who gets on my last nerve; no matter how tempting it’s gonna be for some of you.

Thank you very, berry much.


Pleasant regards,



Tainted Female
Swear Meeestress

By the Way…

You all better be careful. The last time I was at my Mama’s house… I showed her how to access the blogs, added mine to her favorites list, and even taught her how to make comments and such.

I’m sure she’ll be popping in here every now and then. You all be careful, you wouldn’t want the raging mother of I on your ass for being an asshole to me.

Trust me, teachers have been fired, judges have gone mad, lawyers have lost their way, and psycho-doctors have lost their sanity, all thanks to my mommy, in my defense.

Mom, you remember the ‘Shhhhhhhhhhh!’ Stupid-Fucking-Dr-Shrink-Man, now don’t you?

From here on out, you all need to be good to me.

NaNeeNaNeeBooBa!

Bear None, Bear All – Intensified Attraction

This entry has been inspired by Emirati’s recent entry.

I should start by informing you all I was once very good at dressing in proper accordance with Islamic laws. I would cover my face on occasion, especially if I was headed somewhere where the male population was certain to outnumber the female, or if I were on some particular day, wearing more make-up than I deemed appropriate in public.

These days, I’m not nearly as good, modest or even religiously proper.

I still wear Abaya (cloak) and Shayla (head scarf), but it’s more because I’m used to it than anything else. Often, you’ll find my Shalya dropped across my shoulders and not on my head. I’m stating this beforehand, so I don’t get any calls from you all about what a hypocrite I am for bringing this topic up. I’d remove it all together for a number of reasons, but change isn’t easy, and there’s a lot that has to be considered for a girl who has voluntarily worn Islamic Hijab for more than 7 years. I bet finding comfortable work, or even a social circle would be easier if I were to just take the thing off, huh?

Anyway, I and a few of my friends have found that women in Niqab (the veil that completely covers the face) get MORE unwanted attention then when we're not wearing it. Even those Niqab's that cover your eyes FULLY, seem to entice a certain bread of gawking men.

There's nothing like walking around partially blind, unable to breathe, listening to some twat shout at you, “Mumkin nta’arif?” (Pretty much means, “Can I get to know you?”) Or even better, random numbers shouted across lanes of traffic, is another favorite pick up line for the covered. And yes, it happens with girls who are unveiled or partially veiled as well. But when you’ve completely covered, it almost feels like more of an insult.

I’ve been followed while driving a car with 70% tint, while wearing a Niqab, from Ajman to Dubai. Granted, this was a few years ago; the same still goes. There’s an attractive mystery to the unseen that makes curiosity burn and enhances desire.

A friend of mine was standing outside a hospital talking in fluent (local accent) Arabic to her husband on the phone, concerning whatever medical situation was happening inside with her relatives. She of course, was covered from head to toe. When she finally closed the phone, a man came up to her side and said, “Finally. I’ve been waiting for you to get off the phone. My number is…”

Showing all or showing nothing at all, seem to have very similar effects.

Thus the rule of modesty is necessary. I don’t believe in the Saudi traditions of covering all, all the time. I do believe there are times, when covering your face is useful, and even preferable. Being incognito has certain advantages; I’m sure you can coin a few of them on your own, even when we’re talking in complete innocent terms.

But, women aren’t allowed to perform pilgrimage with their faces covered, or even pray that way, according to Islam.

I’m not going to argue the Islamic beliefs behind this. I’m not going to deny that pretty much all Islamic scholars will agree the wives of the Prophet (salallahu alhi wassalaam), were made the ‘Mother’s of Islam,’ and asked to cover their faces.

But the Qura’an itself does not clearly specify that this is an Islamic ruling, no matter how the words are interpreted.

I for one, feel it’s an extreme in today’s UAE world. I’m not talking about it being outdated, as Islamic rulings are meant to withstand time and I agree with this belief. I feel it’s an extreme because of the way the Hijab (Islamic covering) is worn, now.

I remember a house-guest I once entertained. Her husband had come to visit my husband. She was a local lady and though the men were to eat in the sitting room, and my sister-in-law, this guest and I were meant to eat somewhere else, she refused to remove her Hijab during her whole multi-hour visit with us, even while eating. I have never in my life felt so insulted; and I never invited the woman back. She was a snob, who clearly feared the ‘evil eye,’ or something along those lines. I don’t remember her name, but I remember the insult.

I suppose, she was a rarity and not the reason I have such issues with this sort of Hijab, over all.

Sure, the women are covered in public and being ‘modest’. But more often than not, their eyes are artistically painted to entice and encourage deep, curious looks, their fingers are usually adorned with diamonds the size of walnuts, and their perfume is usually an intoxicating, richly exotic scent that can be smelled a hundred meters behind their walking-path. And their Abaya’s are skillfully cut to flow around the body, showing hints of voluptuous curves. They reek of a feminism you can feel and almost taste in their presence. I am a woman; a strait one at that. It sounds undeniably seductive, because it is.

The point I’m trying to make, there are extremes and there is modesty. The naked Spinney’s women of today are at one end, the towering modestly femme women are the other.

Both, in my opinion, shouldn’t be complaining about harassment; cause whether they admit it or not, they’re asking for attention. If it’s a different kind of attention you’re looking for, try a different marketing scheme.

Food for Thought…

Mac & Cheese with chopped wieners for me…



…Home baked biscuits just for Sam.

I cook, I bake; I make all sorts of yummy things. (And NO, Mac & Cheese with chopped up weenies isn’t actually cooking. That’s just cause it tastes so good, damn it!)

It just so happens that on Friday night I was talking to Sam on the phone, while baking these lovely biscuits here. They’re just like the ones he loves from Popeys, here in the Emirates. I promised him a cyber bite, and Tainted is a woman of her word. So there you go honey; but stay the FUCK away from my weenies, alright?

Now that this is out of the way, there are a few things I’d like you all to bite on for a while. To start with, in exactly ten days, I’m officially out of this office, thus I will not have internet access. A month from then, my apartment contract expires and I’ve still not sorted out where I’m going or how I’m getting there. Everything is pretty unstable these days, and saying I’m rather ‘moody’ would be an understatement.

But as many of you know, I’m the official UAE drama-blog-whore, and thus it wouldn’t be suited for me not to share my thoughts with you as regularly as possible. As soon as I sort out where I’m going, Internet will be connected in the house and I’ll be back.

There are a few things I intend to blog about today. But for now, the new girl (God bless her soul) is in my office and waiting to be taught the tricks of the trade. When I get a minute, I will get on to things more important… like sharing my thoughts with you all.

Buj, Balushi & Beautiful SS (1)

Word Verification is now off.

I AM NOT HERE... really, it's the truth. It's just my ghost.

Did I use that (1) right?

Guilt, Guilt, Guilt... See you Saturday

The boss sent me an email. It was a reply to something I sent him last week, (not the email I sent yesterday). He told me to hire the poor thing.

Saturday, I’ll train her.

Means I’ll be here. I’ll be gone before this month is out. Told her that while I interviewed her.

Everyone please keep your fingers crossed for her. I almost feel evil for giving her this job, with this company.

For now… I’m outta here for the weekend. I’ll have more perky things to say come Saturday, I’m sure.

.

Fuck off & Leave me Alone…

There are a few things getting on my nerves these days… like most fucking days. But just about now, I’ve reached the boiling point of my pot.

If I don’t know you, chances are I don’t fucking want to. If I do know you, know where your fucking boundaries are, when it comes to our relationship. Please & thank you very fucking much.

Those who think kissing my ass will get them a cookie, are fucking deluded. Those who think I give a shit whether anyone loves or hates me, are equally distorted in their thoughts.

I have had two nervous breakdowns in my short life. There’s an up side to it; as stated in some stupid fucking movie I recently watched: We sincerely DON’T GIVE A FUCK at the end of the day. Assuming we do only makes you look like a fucking fool. So stop, right there, and don’t even bother making that comment you’re considering.

Now, I’m in a fucking mood. Please don’t bother with the pity, and don’t dwell on my shit for me. I’ll get over it; probably much, much sooner than you will. Until I do, LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.

Let me make something clear. I don’t like to chat on msn. There is ONE person I chat with regularly, and if you’re not him, you’ll probably find I’m too busy to bother. The few exceptions to this fucking rule are the people I know in REAL life, and have something to say.

It’s NOT a personal insult to you, just the fact that I have shit to do, and would prefer to do it without a damn window popping up with stupid questions like ‘a/s/l’ in it every ten seconds from random strangers. No, I’m not the type to ignore a fucking person bluntly, I TRY to be polite in all honesty.

While clarifying, allow me this… I fuck up at times. Actually, I fuck up often. And it’s my fucking right to do so. If you’d all take your heads outta your asses for long enough, you might realize VERY FEW people actually view the world, people, and life just the way you do.

If I had a Cock…

…I’d force you to choke on it.

My stupid, dumb, shit, fuck, mother-fucking boss just called. The phone call I didn’t want to answer.

As I knew would happen; made me feel like shit; everything is my fault. Didn’t guarantee anything when it comes to money or anything at all; didn’t really even let me speak but managed to get his point across…

I’m not good enough. I’m a failure. I’ve lost a lot of money. I, I , I , just pretty much suck at life and everything.

Fucker.

Now if you’ll excuse me… It’s time I took that relaxing drive home.

Portable Potties - Traffic over Coffee

As most already know, I have one hell of a drive to and from work each day. Most days, I don’t mind and after breaking down and completely losing it for a while, due to traffic, I’ve come to peace with even that. Today, was one of those days where the road entertainment didn’t seem to stop. I’ve decided to give you a visual of my morning and how it went.



Since I don’t give a shit about my job or this company anymore, I decided to sleep in this morning. Around 10am, I had my first cup of coffee in my living-room. (Notice the Ikea furniture, I hate that fucking place, but always end up furnishing my house from there)

I left my house around 11.15am. Something exploded prior to me arriving at the roundabout in the industrial area in Sharjah, turning cars into mini boats heading in the opposite direction. As I already mentioned to CG, I don’t stop and hold up traffic for the sake of photos or anything else when I can manage, so this (like all the other photos here, doesn’t give you the best view), but it’s at the end of the 100meter long pool, that’s meant to be a 3 lane road.



Kind of ironic, considering all the news coverage of water shortages in Sharjah, just now, wouldn’t you say?

Though I hadn’t the mind to take a photo, I approached your regular traffic on both Garhoud bridge & Sheikh Zayed rd on my way in. During about 150meters of which, I watched the guy in front of me, read what I can only assume were legal documents giving the fine details of his future inheritance, (as they were important enough for him to be reading while driving) through his side-view mirror. Who am I to talk? I was sipping on a latte with vanilla, I picked up at the petrol station in Garhoud.

Free at last I closed the phone with Sam, to smoke a cigarette and drive as only Tainted does (and not even she should).

By this time, the coffee had reached my bladder and I needed to pee.

I entered Airport Rd in Abu Dhabi and exhaled, because history has taught me that Abu Dhabi is a much smoother place to drive than Dubai, and usually reaching that part of my journey means I’ve just got ten or so minutes left before I reach my office.

Shocked! I come across rather nasty traffic that could only be caused by this:



Yup. That’s a poor photo of a car, on the meridian facing the wrong direction. Sometimes, I wonder about the laws of physics when I see such things, and just how it’s possible that wreckage ends up the way it does.

Getting by that traffic, I find the ‘Dubai Attitude” of driving seems to have made its way to Abu Dhabi, and everyone is in a mood. Or could it be my teeth are starting to float and I’m losing patience, due to my dire need of a bathroom?

I reach that last stretch to my office, consisting of just 3 traffic lights when, as patterns should go, I encounter MORE traffic.



Notice the light is green? I sat stationary while it changed at least three times before was able to move and I saw the cause of the traffic. I know it’s not clear, (back to my NOT HOLDING up traffic rule), but that lovely red car, has just been smacked by the bus behind it.

Just two more lights to go and I should be able to park my car, and open my office:




Yes, this is my maxima, and yes this is a seemingly legal way to park in Abu Dhabi, since none of these cars ever get tickets.

But as we all know, for tainted, it never rains just a little. There must be a storm. At the lights, just before my turn-off… You guessed it! More Traffic! Caused by ANOTHER accident!



At exactly 2.37pm I finally made it…



And now, I’m at my desk, enjoying my third Cup O’ Joe.



Any gamblers wish to make bids on what my drive home is going to be like tonight? It seems as though I’m on a role! Even better, anyone know how much a portable potty might cost me?

Now for the MEN… Marriage Advice you NEED

In the last entry about marriage, I gave women a pretty hard time about relationship responsibilities. Now it’s the men’s turn. You really didn’t think I’d let you get off that easy, did you now?

Disclaimer: I am divorced. I divorced him. You can feel free to disagree with me if you are a woman, on the last post I made about responsibilities in a relationship, but you may NOT disagree with me on this post if you are a man. This is my rule for this entry, failing to oblige it will cause me to hunt you down, and chew off the tips of your fingers, toes, nose and any other body-tips I can get my teeth on; and I file them, since I’m convinced I’m in actuality a vampire in the wrong body.

Relationships fail for a number of reasons. Yes, I do tend to blame the female half in most cases, but we’re not all to blame. Men have their fair share of faults that should be corrected and these are the ones that come to my mind:

1) Complaining about our bitching, or even allowing us to bitch. Newsflash, WE DON’T WANT TO BITCH. You give us no choice, since talking; reasoning and even practical lessons don’t seem to get through your thick skulls. (I am convinced that the skull of the male half of the species it at least double the thickness of us females)
2) Self-satisfaction-sex. Is it too hard for you to understand that we want ours too? I don’t care if you have had that body, that sex, those same lips a million times over. Our bodies don’t work the same fuck-head, and we need those same tracing touches, seductive words, and saucy compliments you used to give us in the beginning; otherwise we’re NOT going to climax. We NEED to feel that you still find us attractive. And failing to give us that, along with failing to make time or space for proper foreplay makes you a shitty husband; makes us bored of letting you get it on thus hindering us the will to turn YOU on in the first place. And while I’m at it, after-play isn’t a crime either.
3) Taking us for granted. So she makes you lunch every day, just the way you like it for years, and years (whether or not you show up to eat), but on the day she is unable you throw a fit as if it’s your God-given right to have that lunch prepared for you by her. Do you remember the last time you complimented her cooking? Does it matter, the reason she wasn’t able to make it on this day? Do you CARE, or even know how to feign for us that you do? These things matter to us, whether you think they should or shouldn’t, the fact is, they DO. And you ignoring them only piss us off. By the way, this example could be replaced by a number of things that a woman traditionally does aside from cooking; cleaning, spending hours preparing herself (for you, you mindless twat), whatever…

I had a hell of a lot more to say about this, but I think these are the main three. And it’s enough. Hopefully if I keep it short enough, some of this may actually sink into the reading male-brains.

Now girls… Tell me I done good with this one.

Jigsaw Puzzle – And Viola! Here I AM!

Thank you LC, for pasting together my face to give the world a glimpse of what I actually look like. Damn, you’ve ruined the mystery of ME. You should get a job as one of those police artists, with the fantastic representation you’ve provided for those who really wish to know what I look like.

I can’t deny it, it’s ME!

I see YoU! How many of YoU see me?

How many of you see me?



Clearly, I'm playing with photos this morning. Work is tough.



This has been added just for Leghorn

GET OVER IT! It was probably your own damn fault anyway!

I’d like to know when the letters to the editor in 7Days became the official therapy page for divorcees. After the recent flood of whining women writing about losing their husband’s and how the UAE or the younger, available women here are at fault for it, I personally side with the person who wrote this letter.

Had this letter not been published soon, I’m pretty sure, I as a WOMAN, would have written something along these lines myself. I believe is a man or woman’s eyes are wandering there is something their partner isn’t giving them at home. I don’t give a shit how many years you’ve been together, or how many kids you’ve taken care of, or how fucking comfortable you think you are. If you’re NOT paying attention to pleasing your man, he WILL find someone else who will.

Remember the beginning of your relationship? Remember how he used to love you so? Remember making sure he didn’t see you until you were looking your best, and nothing less? Remember looking for ways to make him giggle? Remember offering him that massage, just because you knew turning him on would turn you on? Remember showing him how attracted he was to you? Remember when you would wake up in the middle of the night to ferociously fuck, or give him oral expecting for NOTHING in return? Remember when he was more than just the father of your kids, the money maker, the driver, the extra belie you cook for? Remember that effort you once put in?

Now keep in mind that since you’ve no longer the will to put in that effort, someone around the corner has it; will offer it; and will get that appreciation you complain about dying in your relationship.

It works both fucking ways. And one of you has to take the first fucking step towards making things new, things better, things all around livable, and the nature of men usually means if it’s not us women, it’s not going to happen at all. You knew how stubborn your man was before you married him, didn’t you?

And even if you don’t agree with what I’ve said here, do us all a favor and SHUT THE FUCK UP. Letters to the editor page isn’t your personal broken-hearted-whine forum. Talk to a friend, spill your guts in a journal, beat the shit outta your ex, or even burn all his belongings, but please… PLEASE accept that the UAE is NOT responsible for you losing him. In one way or another, YOU ARE. And he’d have left you no matter which country you’re in.

On another note, all you mother-fuckers who agree with this bastard, thinking that it’s ok to gawk at accidents on the road, GO TO THE FUCKING MOVIES, download nasty accident pictures from the Internet, and even make sure all the tragic deaths you see are of white people to fill your racist fucking fetish, if you will. But don’t FUCKING stop your car in front of mine, to look at another fender-bender and expect me NOT to get pissed off at you. I don’t give a SHIT what your skin color is, stupidity comes from ALL races!

Parting Words (It’s My Weekend Again)

I thought I’d give you all something not only entertaining; but also a few words about Blogging…

Here’s the entertainment bit (But note that if this were in the UAE and National men replacing the Westerners here, people would be killed, I’m sure):

Video Loading Was Annoying Me, So Now It’s A Link

Thought about these sorts of things and Blogs…

I can’t help but notice the increasing frequency of these sorts of videos being posted in blogs, all over the place. At the same time, I can’t help but wonder why people keep doing it. Have you run outta things to say?

Generally, If I want to watch a video, or see a music clip I’m going to search for them in some search engine until I find the site I want, and not in blogs. I open a blog to READ what that person’s got to say, or what they’re thinking.

This new ‘fade’ is getting rather annoying, if you ask me. But, I’m no mood killer, and I’d rather join this mass for the time being, than take you all on about it. So, I’ve done my bit. Unless I think it’s relevant to something I’m going through, or seeing in my life, you shouldn’t find another video like this one in my blog.

Enjoy this one; the first and the last from Tainted. It’s rather funny, if you want my honest opinion.

You all have a wonderful weekend, now.

Today’s Language of a Spineless Little Bitch = Hindi

Dearest Kaya,

The below comments you made in Hindi concerning me in Archers post, have been translated to English and brought to my attention.

For those of you, like me, who don’t speak Hindi but want to know what she’s said; here’s the translation (as best as I could get):

kaya said: Im sure tum ko meray post mill giya hai. I moved it because mujhay uss paagal kutia kay mu nahi lagna.
thats why I left it for 5 minutes so it would get to ur mailbox.
Again I will repeat Blogger community ki inhouse rundi ko kuch samjhaanay ki zururat nahi.

Translation: I’m sure you have received my post. I moved it because I don’t want to bother with the mad bitch. That’s why I left it for 5 minutes, so it would get to your mailbox. Again, I will repeat that there is no need to explain things to the Blogger community’s in-house whore.

kaya said: Yaar nahi. Tum ko nahi patta iss paagal kutia ka. Mujhay apnay family kay baaray sochna hota hai, aur waisay bhi I have seen. Everyone will stand and watch the tamasha and kissi ki himmat nahi to stand up for whats right. Tum nai dekha nai pehlay cg; aur abh haath dho karr sd kay peechay paddi hai.
Khud ka koi thikaana nahi,changes men more often than underwear. No thanks. yah toh tum anonymous comments enable karro.

Translation: No yaar. You don’t know about this mad bitch. I have to think about my family, and anyway I have seen. Everyone will stand and watch the show and no one has the guts to stand up for what’s right. Haven’t you seen, first it was CG and now she’s totally behind SD. She has no clue about herself, changes men more than underwear. No thanks. Please enable Anonymous commenting on your blog.

Now Kaya,

Clearly afraid to speak a language I can understand; I can only assume you’re pretty devastated to learn that I now know what you’ve had to say about me. (Though the extra attention you’ll get from this entry of mine certainly deserves thanks, I’d say.) Do yourself a favor and when you choose to speak about someone make sure you’re willing to say whatever it is to their face beforehand; and try to use more convincing words than crude, baseless insults, as you’ve done here. Considering the fact that I don’t know you, and you certainly don’t know me, these facts are no more than propaganda, most probably initiated by blind jealousy.

A few notes for the sake of your education and others who read my Blog and have yet to figure it all out…

• I have no problem with CG, or even Secret Dubai. I may have had disagreements with both of these people in the past, but that’s the thing about maturity… you get over shit, arguments, etc, and move on.


• I do not change men more than underwear; and if I did, I don’t know how that would be any of your business, or even how you’d know about it, since I try not to share the truly intimate details of my sex-life with even those closest to me.


• I do not need anyone to defend me around here, nor do I appreciate a ‘gang-like’ defense behind me. Clearly you have no idea what kind of person I am, indirect contrast to your facts above.

Now, in the future, I’d appreciate it much if you all would speak ENGLISH when referring to me, and possibly have the balls to say whatever it is you’ve got to my face, rather than whispering wicked words with no relevance concerning me to others.

If you want shitty, disgraceful facts about me; ask. I’ll give you the fuel to make your fire. Otherwise, go fuck yourself (and be your own whore) and all those who choose to listen to your whispers.

People like you, are the reason people like me learn to be racist.

Typically Expected in My Life…

So just now; when I’m pretty much minutes from walking out the door to this office, closing the doors behind me, knowing there’s no one here to run it if I do; and not giving a damn because I’m sure the company will collapse eventually, I get the call.

A Quotation request from the Royal Offices in Abu Dhabi. That means big sales are about to take off for this little Abu Dhabi company; just like they did from the first royal inquiry in Dubai, Sharjah & Ajman.

Makes walking out of here a little harder than I thought it’d be.

Arab Sexuality: Holding Hands = Gay or Compassionate Expression?

I’ll be one of the first to shout about ‘western ice’ in western societies. Fucking your friends isn’t warm; sex is sex and often very cold, and compassion is compassion and always warm. Over here, Arabs, like many Europeans, they’re compassionate enough to greet one another with kisses. Back home, some people consider a hand shake to close for comfort. See the difference?

Since I’ve been here, I’ve learned to show affection to my mother, my sisters, and my close friends. I believe I’m the only one of my mother’s children who actually kisses her upon each greeting or departure. As it turns out, in many ways I’m also the closest child to her.

When people first arrive here from abroad, they show shock and disgust and all the men walking in public holding hands, ’Oh my God! I didn’t know gays were free to walk in public here!’ They fail to realize that between these men holding hands, is no sexual attraction, no relationship and nothing even remotely gay.

Now, I’m not saying gays don’t exist here; whether male or female I assure you there are plenty of them. I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t been a little closer than comfortable with a lesbian here, some time in my past. I’d be a liar if I said I’d never met a gay guy, or been told stories about male rape, or male to male sexual propositions. They all exist, and possibly in numbers larger than more ‘modern’ societies.

But that’s not what I’m interested in talking about just now.

You see, I remember when my son was just little, possibly just over a year old; my father-in-law was playing with him. Please note that my father-in-law is an incredibly old man, who doesn’t have any teeth in his mouth and most certainly lost his vitality many, many years ago. Also note that I love this man, dearly.

Anyway, what seemed out of nowhere to me, he started gently flicking my babies penis. And even as my child laughed; I freaked out, picked him up and walked away. I screamed for a short while at my ex-husband, and complained about it to my sister-in-law.

No one seemed to understand what the big deal was.

I spent a long time thinking about this occurrence, and even more so, the reaction I got for bitching about it. Finally it hit me; Maybe the problem wasn’t with my old father-in-law, or the in-laws in general. Maybe the problem was with me.

When does sexual assault, become sexual assault? When does a touch become too far? What are the bases we decide these things on? And if no sexual intent, or sexual emotions are felt, can it be considered sexual assault? Was that abuse?

Thinking back to my childhood, I remember a daycare counselor I grew fondly attached to. His name was Jeff, and he became my best friend for the short time that he worked in my Daycare. I remember one summer day while outside in the playground, Jeff was laying on his back. I crawled up on his stomach and laid myself on top of him, face to face. I must have been younger than ten years old.

I’ll never forget how quickly he shouted at me to get off him, and how he tried to ever so lightly explain that what I had done was wrong and I shouldn’t do such a thing again. I remember how guilty I felt; and I remember not understanding why.

I remember that moment, when compassion became a shame for me.

Sexuality is something that’s highly influenced by society, by the people around us and our own experiences and beliefs.

Holding hands doesn’t make a person gay; it makes them comfortable in expressing their appreciation for their loved ones. A kiss on the cheek (though uncomfortable initially for us westerners), tends to strengthen a relationship, and leave you knowing that should that person pass away before you get the chance to see them again, you’ve had a change to properly say good-bye.

I tend to believe that Arab sexuality is more often than not, misunderstood and misinterpreted by the masses. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while, but not really concluded my thoughts on. But so far, it’s leaning towards:

Cold : Warm

as

Western : Arab

And today, I decided to share it with the rest of you.

Because I LOVE my Blog Readers…

… and wish to entertain you always! (Well, at least while I'm in the mood, that is)

To the left over there, you’ll find a game I added for you all to play. It’s called Peeptin, and comes from www.flooble.com.

The object to this game is to shuffle the numbers by clicking on the ‘shuffle’ button, then reassemble the numbers until they’re in proper order; 1 to 15, with the empty square in the lower right corner.. To move a number into the empty box, just click on it.

Give it a go, and entertain yourselves while I’m away.

Just do me a favor… Don’t forget to read and comment on the Blog itself, now that I’m adding more stuff for you to entertain yourselves with!

If you promise me that… I promise to keep learning all this silly technical stuff to keep improving this blog of mine… for your entertainment of course…

Someone contacted the radio this morning…

… to report problem-free roads in different areas of Dubai.

Says a FUCK of a lot about the driving situation in Dubai, when roads that aren’t crammed with traffic becomes Reportable News.

Recipe for Obesity: United Arab Emirates

We’ve got drive-thru restaurants, drive through banks, and drive-thru car washes like any other country; but I was astonished a week or so ago to witness a drive-thru pharmacy.

In fact, I had to point it out to Sam.

You’re pretty fucking lazy when you can’t park your car; walk into to a pharmacy to take your prescriptions; your Viagra or Preparation-H; choose your hair-loss cream or vitamins. Pretty fucking lazy if you need a drive-thru; but this is Dubai I’m talking about; the world of not-ever-lifting-a-finger-despite-virtually-forgetting-how-to-walk.

The recipe for obesity is all here.

Take six months of weather; so fucking hot & humid you can’t breathe outdoors the density of water in the air outweighs the hottest fucking sauna.

Pour in cheap domestic help to plant and water your garden; clean your house; chase after your kids.

Add in mounds, construction of sidewalks that don’t seem complete, no matter how pretty they are, along side roads designed in the least rational way to get from point A to point B, and the nonexistence of cross walks & usable over-passes.

Insert a generous amount of idiot drivers using sidewalks for roadways, and roadways for parking; luring at pretty women or accidents; or to simply frustrate other drivers on the road.

Throw in a pinch of seedy perverts with camera phones, that can’t manage to leave a walker alone while on their walk; thus making walking an impossible mission for most women.

Douse it all in drive-thru restaurants, banks, car washes, pharmacies and the drive up supermarkets & cafeterias.

Finally, add the transportation phone call; where just about anything from food to condoms, is just a call away from your home, through supermarkets, fast-food, or even slow-food outlets, (the sim-card to make these calls, by the way, can also be delivered to your home). And just this morning I learned; and this one tops the cake, you can even call the new ‘Nokia Concierge’ (or whatever the fuck it’s called), who will gladly bring their whole shop of electronics right to your doorstep any day of the week from 8am till 8pm, so you can now buy a new computer, laptop, Nokia phone or what-not without getting your fat ass off your fucking couch!

10 years from now; in Dubai… it may just seem like insanity to leave your house to purchase a new one. I’m pretty sure as well, by that time obesity will top traffic accident as the #1 place for cause of death in the UAE.

I’m not fat yet; are you?

Just for Ugly Camel, this is…

How does a blonde turn on the lights after sex?

Opens the car door.

How do you know a blonde has been using a computer?

White Out on the screen.

How do you know two blondes have been using a computer?

Writing on the White Out.

How do you know a blonde has been making chocolate chip cookies?

M&M shells on the floor.

How do you confuse a blonde?

Spill a package of M & M’s and tell her to put them in alphabetical order.

Or…

Put her in a round room and tell her to find a corner.

How does a blonde confuse you?

She finds one.

How does a blonde part her hair?

Spreads her legs.

Why did the blonde jump off a bridge?

She thought her Always had wings.

*Yawn. Boring. All said, all heard before...

I could go on & on with this… But Ugly Camel, as a blonde I have a little something extra to add… Just for you.

Why do they make so many blonde jokes?

So brunettes have something to do on a Friday night.

What’s the difference between a brunette & the trash?

The trash gets taken out at least once a week.

Why do they make blonde jokes so short?

So Ugly Camels, and other beings with penis’s can understand them.

What’s the difference between a man & and bag of shit?

The bag.

What do you call a piece of skin on the end of the penis?

The man.


This time, UC… I couldn’t resist.

Ugly Girls & Sex Appeal…

A letter to the editor today, prompts me to finally write about something I’ve been meaning to post about since Samurai Sam and I were having coffee, along with my son and housemaid in Spinneys, Jumeirah a few weeks back.

A trio of women, I’d assume to be either Russian or British insulted me to the point where I felt like vomiting; and not one of them looked in my direction, said a word to me, or even walked within a meter of where I sat.

You see, each one of these women; 2 out of three I might add weren’t even young or remotely attractive, was dressed more skimpily than the last. The youngest of the three, possibly in her mid-late teens was wearing a short, short skirt. I swear to God the lower creases, and bottom portion of the crack of her ass were plainly visible to the world. Even the table of old British men sitting to the side of Sam and I turned their heads a full 180° to check that slightly chubby, in need of FUCK, ass out.

I’m not even going to ask you to forgive me when I say I’m with Balushi here, when he says these women should be raped. This bitch was asking for some disgruntled, sex-deprived man to anally fuck the shit out of her, with or without her verbal consent.

Whether dressed like this in a public place, or even a little less trashy but bearing cleavage and slick legs, and whether or not you have the body to do so, is irrelevant to the fact that in the UAE, YOU ARE IN A SEXUALLY DEPRIVED MUSLIM COUNTRY.

Why the FUCK don’t foreign women accept the fact that they’re in a Muslim country, and dressing like this not only arouses guys like Balushi to the point of hysteria, but also insults us women who do take care to be modest about how we display ourselves. We don’t want to see your flabby breasts, wrinkled skin, or millimeters from the hole you shit from. It’s bad enough we have to see your classless spray-painted faces in many cases.

What is it about this ugly sex appeal that these women are striving for? You’re in a country where you can forget to shower for months, lose half your fucking teeth and STILL will have men hitting on you. What kind of attention do you hope to get when you dress yourself in trash? Do you think its good attention? Do you not know that a man who hits on you when you’re dressed like that is truly only thinking one thing when he meets you; regardless of his nationality. Or are you just a rejected porn star who never made it to the big screen; a hooker, who never got paid?

For fuck sakes girls; cover up! In many cases, your attire wouldn’t even be acceptable in your own country.

Women like this make me ashamed of my sex & sexuality (and I happen to be a pretty sexy woman) back home, and here. But back home; it’s socially acceptable. It’s the norm. The eyes have become accustomed to such displays of raw skin.

Here…?

As far as I’m concerned, if you do get abused, harassed or whatever here while dressing like this; you FUCKING deserved it. We’re not in a place where nakedness is the norm.

Place a steak in front of a pack of hungry wolves and they’ll swallow it whole; without a second thought. And NO ONE will blame the wolves.

Blow Me I’m Blonde…

The stereotype is getting about as boring as the battle between Israel & Palestine.






**If any one of you people choose to believe that I’ve just somehow insulted someone by using such an analogy, BLOW ME. The truth is, it’s a perpetual fucking war that I, for one, am sick & tired of hearing about!

And Yup… it’s even Annoying here in the UAE,

This one goes out to someone who misses us…

I looooove you!!!
Yoooooou love me!!!
We’nn happy fimily!
Witta daa deee daaaa!
Doo daaa deee dooo!
Daaaa do SAY you loooooove me too!!!?

We miss you too. And since the DVD is now at home, at least by the time you get back, the sung words might actually be correct.

Keep smiling!

Professional Diagnoses: Life in the UAE

Back to the work front; the boss sent a little money at the end of last week. It wasn’t enough to cover salaries, or all expenses but a little is better than none. I’m still quitting.

In fact, I sent him an email this morning that outlined the remaining expenses needed, as well as a note mentioning that I’ve advertised my position in this company and will be forwarding prospective CV’s his way. I told him I want to be out of here by the end of this month at the latest.

Initially, since I still don’t have a contract, I thought to just pack up my things and leave… Today. But guilt hit me as I walked into this beautiful showroom, with products I’m so in love with, and realized that if I quit it’ll all just close down. There’s no one else here to run things; and thus I’d be not only fucking this many over, but also a line of products I believe in 100%.

When I joined the head office for this company almost a year ago now, these products helped keep me away from clinical meds I’d been taking for more than 5 years; since they’ve become an everyday part of my life and I truly love them.

So; I’m trying to do the right thing, the best I can.

I’m not sure how he’ll respond. And there’s huge chance I’ll never get the money he owes me; for last month or even this month, which I’m intending to use to train my replacement and sort everything out before I leave. But my conscious will be clear, I guess. No one will be able to blame me for the collapse (that is doomed to come eventually anyway).

My parents took a little more note of the situation I’m in. They offered to buy me a ticket to vacation back home for a while; suggested I take time off to spend with my son, and then invited me to move back in with them… I’ve heard such invitations before and though I know they’re sincere, I also knows my mom tired easily and it’ll be real quick before she makes it obvious I’m no longer wanted in her home if I choose this option.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet. But I’m not too worried about it either. Something will work out. It always does.

On a side note, last night my son fell asleep on the couch in my house while I was in the shower. When I came out, I noticed this HUGE bug-bite type mark on his left cheek. I checked everywhere for the critter that bit him, but found nothing at all. I went to get dressed, and by the time I came back he had a number of new bite looking things on the same cheek, and a bunch on his right cheek and arm as well. I freaked out, picked him up and removed his clothing. I searched the couch, the blanket and everything he was wearing.

There was nothing; no bug.

I rushed him to a doctor; on the way, his cheeks swelled up and these multiple bites became one big swell on each cheek. Turns out, he had an allergic reaction to either something he ate or a bug-bite.

He didn’t eat anything strange. It couldn’t have been from food.

Now, I remember reading about bedbugs in the UAE in the papers, sometime last week. It was saying the cases are increasing and they’re finding their ways into homes; even in Jumeirah and are no longer common only in hotels & hostels where travelers tend to pass.

I couldn’t help but think about this as I tucked myself into bed last night. Then my legs started to itch. Is it psychological, or do I got bugs?

White Lies or False Memories

I hope they’re false memories, but what are the chances of two people sharing the same one?

Over the weekend I spoke to the friend I mentioned in the previous entry. She was all giggly, as though nothing were wrong. She mentioned that her husband didn’t think I liked him. I shouted back that I thought he was a murdering prick and nothing more, and of course I didn’t like him. I then told her I didn’t even know how to speak and that I needed to close the phone. The night before last, she sent me a message telling me she’d just had her first ever orgasm. I flipped. I responded by asking her if she were insane, asking whether or not she knew she’d willingly given herself aids, murdered her daughters mother, and allowed me to feel simply distorted for sending her there in the first place. I mocked her orgasm, and told her that sure it was enough to save her life, and stop her daughter from being an orphan; enough for me to stop mourning her death.

She claimed he didn’t have AIDS, and that she’d never said the same. She had Hepatitis C. She swore to it, and even when I asked her if she were telling lies just to calm me down; she promised that was not the case.

I’m not sure if I believe her or not. I remember clearly that she mentioned both Hepatitis C & AIDS, but I didn’t think too much about the Hepatitis because another one of my closest friends has it, and thus I know it’s only transmitted through blood. I also know that though there is no cure for Hepatitis; there are a number of treatments available, as well as inoculations for infants to insure that any children born will not be inflicted with the disease.

I spoke to the fiancé about this all. He remembers me mentioning AIDS months ago when I relayed the saucy messages the two were sharing over seas, to him. He tends to feel that maybe it’s a white lie as well. That is the nature of this friend; to protect me and whatever I’m suffering no matter what she may have in store for her.

I’m hoping somewhere along the line it was me who go things confused. In a case like this, I’d rather be wrong, confused, or whatever, any day. I still asked her to get checked just to lull my worries away; and I gave her as much precautionary information about Hepatitis C as I could.

And now, I’ve decided that whether she’s lying for my sake, or telling the truth (and just putting herself at risk of Hep C), I need to let this situation go.

One of my biggest faults is the amount of energy I put into my loved-ones worries. It’s far more than I put into my own. And maybe if I could shift weights a little; I’d find things a little smoother in my own life.