Watch Trend

Available for only KD6 at Claire's. The colors available are all fun, bright and neon colors (a throwback to the 80's). You can pick one up (or at that price, you can get them all) in hot pink, green, lilac, or orange. They're a bit on the large side so you might need to get them resized. Then again, you can wear it that way and rock both trends at once, "toy watch" trend and the more recent "boyfriend watch" trend. That said, not many can pull this off so if asked, just say "I'm trying to be ironic" :P

Others blogs that have covered the "toy watch" previously:
-Confashions from Kuwait
-Poached, Fried, Sunny Side-Up

Part 2 At The Airport

Click here for Part 1

At the airport, I met up with Abrar and her sisters who came to see me off. I couldn't hang with them 'cuz I had stuff to do first. My younger brother helped me check in my luggage. Then he gave me the money pops had instructed him to give me. I'd already gone over this a million times with pop but my brother felt the need to go over it again. "As soon as you see your sister, give the money to her." "Inzayn, inzayn." "Dana, this is serious. It's a lot of money and you'll just lose it, as usual." "Inzaaaaaaaayn! I won't lose it! So... um... where do I keep it?" "In your wallet?" "I don't have one." He gave me a disgusted look. Then he tried to figure out where to get me a wallet from. "I want a wallet from Claire's"! So we headed to Claire's which was closed. "Then I don't want a wallet from anywhere else"! He rolled his eyes. I don't know when it'd happened but somehow over the years we had managed to switch places. Even though I was older by a year and a couple of months, he was the one taking care of me, being protective of me, instead of the other way around. It was bound to happen anyways, me being scatterbrained and all.

Mom, thoughtful as always, had instructed us to get two perfume sets for her doctors. One was male, and one was female. So we headed to Debenhams, bought the stuff, and got them gift-wrapped. My darling mother was always like that. Whenever we traveled anywhere from Kuwait, she'd buy so many gifts for everyone. Watches, perfume, Scarves, everything really. Everyone from our neighbors to our dentist, she never forgot anyone. If you knew my mom, you got gifts, just because. So, I also got a perfume gift set (J-Lo's Deseo) for my sis to cheer her up and mascara for me because I can't say no to mascara.

My brother exchanged the rest of my Kuwaiti Dinars for Euros and handed them to me in an envelope. He put my passport and some other stuff in my envelope as well. "Don't lose this. If you lose this, you'll get into a lot of trouble". Then he slid it in one of the inner pockets of my "Jack Sack" while giving me last minute instructions, "Look, I'm leaving this here. Don't forget where I put it. Don't lose it. Don't take this out unless you have to and if you do take it out, put your passport back in the envelope. Do not put it in your pocket". I have a tendency for stuffing important stuff into my back pocket, and then they fall out and I lose them, and I only notice that they're missing when it's too late.

Abrar, her sister, and my brother all walked with me up to the place they weren't allowed to pass without passports. We hugged and said our goodbyes. The dude hanging out by the X-ray thing was all "I'm gonna let it slide but up ahead, there's a chance that your perfumes might get confisticated if they're more than 100ml per bottle". I was paying attention to what he said but after he said 100ml, my eyes glazed over. Numbers confuse me so I just pretended I understood what he said and nodded.

Up ahead, this fat dude was all, "Go through this door, it'll take you straight to the plane". That didn't make any sense so I asked him to repeat himself and he did. It finally registered that he was flirting with me. I ignored him and headed towards the line to one of the immigrations counters. Another dude asked me for my passport so I gave it to him. He took me the side counter, I was lost in thought, while he did whatever it was he did, then he told me I could go through. So I walked past the itty bitty electronic side gate thingy and headed towards the departure gate. Already I was missing my brother so I called him up. He suggested I hang out at the lounge. I hate going to the lounge. I don't do hanging out at the "lounge". So I went to the duty free area and a manga on the rotating stand caught my eye. I got four mangas! When it was time to pay. I couldn't find my money. So I called my brother up and he reminded me where he'd hid the envelope and he warned me not to be shocked if I couldn't find any Kuwaiti Dinars because we'd already exchanged them for Euros. The mangas were dirt cheap, only KD2.700 which was shocking. I thought for sure they'd be at least KD7 a pop.

Over the intercom, I heard that my flight was now accepting passengers so I headed towards the boarding gate. I walked through the metal detector, collected my bags, and plopped down far away from everyone else as possible which happened to be very close to the X-ray scanner thingy. One chick, (who'd searched me) and two dudes were manning it (man-whore and non-man-whore). They were later joined by a third dude not in uniform. I turned on my ipod and stared at my moonboots. Everytime I glanced up, I found the dudes staring at me. So I glared at them. All of them did a very half-assed job of searching people. Someone even left their jacket on the conveyor belt to which manwhore exclaimed "akhaaf imsaween feeh shay". Idiot. It was his job to make sure that no one "sawa feeh shay" and manages to get it through. Eventually, I got fed up of their antics and went back to staring at my moonboots which were considerably more insteresting to me. The other two stole glances but manwhore would not stop looking or talking to me.

I turned my attention to the other passengers. There were lots of businessy types wearing coats and fondling briefcases. I saw a Kuwaiti athlete with what looked to be his coach. There weren't that many Kuwaitis people on that flight. It wasn't surprising considering that it was around 2:00 in the morning.

I was assigned a window seat (blessing and a curse). I feel that if I don't keep staring at the wings of the plane, we'll fall. Nevermind all that aerodynamic mumbo jumbo. In my mind, I am keeping the plane afloat with my mind. So if I look away, we'll all fall to our deaths. So yeah, I'm afraid of heights but I prefer window seats. My seatmate was a businessy type. He put the stuff I'd bought up in the storage compartment. We chatted a bit. I found out it was his first time in Kuwait ("very dusty", he exclaimed) and he found out it was my first time going to Germany. We chatted a bit more before I started worrying that he might assume I was coming on to him (I'm just naturally chatty), even though he was about 100 years old, so I extracted myself from the conversation by pretending to be interested in the scenery (it was pitch black outside apart for the occasional blinking light), and by making some last minute phone calls.

He took off his shoes, reclined his seat as far as it would go and basically made himself really, really comfortable. As did everyone else. I was too nervous and scared to even breathe let alone touch the tv, blanket, or pillow. What was I scared of exactly? Everything and nothing. I don't know. All I know was I was tense and nervous during the entire flight. After a few hours of me staring at my watch, willing the time to go faster, the food cart rolled up to us. I hate airplane food but I was starving so I thought of getting something, but then what was the point? I'd have to actually eat it and like I said I was too afraid to move a muscle. I compromised by asking for water.

I prayed and prayed and prayed that my seatmate would not eat his food with his bare hands. I prayed so hard. Remember that one scene in the movie "Hostel" where the guys are on the train sharing a cabin with this businessy type dude who eats with his hands? See where I'm going with this? I felt my eyes literally bulge out when I saw him eat with his hands as opposed to using the untensils. He finished his food, pulled down his eye-mask, and went back to sleep.

For the rest of the flight though, I entertained myself with delightful thoughts of being cut up alive a la hostel. It really was entertaining, though. I mean in our country, the majority of Kuwaitis think that they're "the shit". So how much exactly would cutting up and killing a Kuwaiti person amount to? Would our price tag increase because we are arabs and muslims or would it be considerably less. Yeah, I got too into it and scared myself silly. I was so nervous I accidentally tipped over the stupid champagne flute that had my water in it. Thinking I'd spilled some on him, I had a heart attack. He kept on sleeping soundly so I relaxed and realized the ice-cold water was only on my seat and jeans. Eventually, I mustered up the courage to quietly tear open the plastic bag that housed the blankets they give you and covered my freezing ass. I kept on nodding off, and waking up just to realize only a few minutes had passed. For breakfast, I had horrid coffee but I was grateful for the java kick all the same.

After about 6 hours, our plane landed in Frankfurt. I sent a message telling my sister that I'd arrived, hoping she'll call me back. My seatmate handed me my stuff from the overhead storage compartment but not before I managed to grill him about the airport. I'd asked him things like where was I supposed to go and stuff. He tried to be helpful but he really wasn't. Honestly though, he was a complete gentleman and a sweetheart at that. It wasn't his fault that I'm crazy. I exited the plane tailing him, and even almost running into him a few times, like a duckling following it's mother, all the way up to the bus. As soon as he got on, the doors slid shut in my face. Dejected, I made my way to the other door all the way at the back of the bus.

A cute guy got up and offered his seat to me. He was wearing the best looking coat ever and a scarf around his neck. Poor guy had teary eyes and a red nose. I headed towards him but decided to stand at the last minute, holding on to the pole instead. I wasn't being rude but I assumed that my booty would not fit on those tiny chairs. My sister says I have a problem. She says I see myself way bigger than I really am. Like one time, She parked her car and my side was next to a wall. I refused to get down from the car telling her I couldn't squeeze past the car and the wall. She told me that there was more than enough space for me to get out. I did get out and realized she was right. Ah gotz me sum issues! So, yeah I was standing during the duration of our little shuttle trip to the arrival gate. Pops warned me that Frankfurt airport was huge and that I shouldn't zone out. I'd been to Frankfurt airport once before but obviously, that wasn't going to be helpful at all.

I called up my sister and whined about not knowing where to go next. Cute guy was still looking at me curiously so I thought here's my chance to figure out where to go next. I asked him in arabic, if he was getting out here or (like my seatmate) was heading towards a "tranzayt". "Tranzayt", he replied. I looked at the floor dejectedly. Then he switched to english, and wanting to be helpful especially after he'd overhead my conversation over the phone with my sister he said, "Just head towards the exit, it's easy". I looked up and told him I was worried that I was gonna end up living at the airport after being stuck there, like that Tom Hanks movie. He assured me I wasn't. He asked me if it was my first time in Germany. I told him that I'd only gotten as far as the airport and even then only because it was a "tranzayt". "It's my first time traveling alone", I admitted. He asked me why I'd come so I told him I was here for my mom. Being the airhead that I am, I forgot to ask him why he was here. The thing is, if people don't offer information, I just fill in the blanks. Since he was young, I did't think he was here for work so I assumed he was there to study (I know I know don't make assumptions etc...).

The bus took a turn into a dark passage underneath the airport. Everything was pitch black so I was like "Ohmygod! Hostel!" He cracked up. "ulla shda3wa 3ad hostel". We kept chatting 'til we got to the airport and everyone got out. I was all, "Thanks man, I appreciate it", but internally I was thinking "G'bye nice guy! You really are charming! Have a nice life!", but obviously I couldn't say any of that otherwise he'd think I'm crazy.

I got out of the bus and just stood there like an idiot wondering where to go next 'til I felt a tap on my shoulder. My wonderful seatmate, pointed towards the escalator, so once again I followed him faithfully trying not to bump into him. He then pointed at the non-EU line of people I was supposed to qeue in. The line was moving really really slowly so I took that as a chance to glance around the airport. The airport was freakin' huge! Two chicks right in front of me looked like arabs. I stupidly assumed that they were so I asked them "What exactly am I supposed to show the dude at the counter?". They gave me really blank stares so I was like "Nevermind, thanks". When their turn came up, the dude at the counter gave them a really hard time. He was yelling at one of them and everything. "Oh snap! I'm next!", I thought on the brink of tears. "Shakla hatha naqal", charming guy from the bus exclaimed. In hindsight maybe that was a suggestion to go to the back of his side of the line but since I'd ignored his seat invite back the bus, he wasn't going to come outright and offer. God, it's hard work being crazy. You over-think everything. Charming guy's turn came up and off he dissappeared into the world, or at least the German part of the world.

Meanwhile, in my line, directly in front of me, the german dude behind the counter was chewing out the morroccan (see? I can't stop assuming) chick out. I waited patiently for them to finish. They didn't. They just took longer and longer and longer 'til finally he dragged her off somewhere. So back to the end of charming guy's line, I went. My turn came up. Everything went smoothly. After that it was lot of mostly just reading signs and walking. I headed towards the baggage claim as my seatmate (God bless him) had told me to do. With some quick detective work (or you know... just plain 'ol logic) I matched my flight number to the screen and found out that my bag would be coming on conveyor belt #11.

Thankfully, the trolleys were right next to the conveyor belt that my bag was supposed to be on. I struggled to get a trolley out but right away this incredibly stylish Kuwaiti gentleman got one out for me. Internally, I was all "awww there's hope for my people yet"! I asked him about the exit. He seemed as clueless as I was but unlike me he was so freakin' cool! The way he walked it was like he glided, so suave. When people say tall, dark, and handsome, this is what they're talking about. Then this Indian chick, traditional Indian outfit and all asked me for help... sorta. She didn't speak a word of english or arabic or anything apparently. So I asked the Kuwaiti guy to watch my stuff (how rude and presumptious of me but the guy did it, so...) and went off to help her find the right conveyor belt.

Hers was #22 and I think "Doh" means "two" in one of the Indian dialiects (I think Hindu?) so I was like "Doh-Doh". She didn't get it. "Doh! Doh!" I insisted flashing her the victory sign with both hands. Didn't work, so I personally took her all the way to conveyor belt #22 and jogged (didn't wanna keep Kuwaiti dude waiting in case he already claimed all his crap) back to #11 chuckling at myself for coming up with Doh-Doh and expecting anyone to understand. Our stuff still hadn't come out yet. I thanked him and took back my trolley. We waited and waited and waited. The Kuwaiti gentleman came over after awhile and was like "Do you have a ride or is someone picking you up". I was like "Actually I do have someone picking me up but thanks". Internally, I was thinkin', "No hope for my people, at all".

When I saw my bag, I tried pulling it but it was heavy (KumKum nicknamed my bag "7aamil" which means "pregnant"). Out of nowhere, this African-American guy plucks my bag with one hand off the conveyor belt and sets it on my trolley. He was all muscle. He was also very chatty. "Thank you. You Kuwaiti? Yes. Really? Yes. You don't look Kuwaiti and your english is pretty good." Internally I was like "oh no you d'int!" externally, "Aight, well thanks man but I gotta go, you take care, bye!" and headed towards the exit.

As soon as I left the airport, this woman I'd never seen before, walked up to me.

Flora, Fauna, Merryweather, please HELP me!!!!

I thought Flora wore pink, not red...

A few years ago, I mentioned in several posts that I was moving myself and my crap out of my room because I was going to redecorate it. New flooring, new paint, new everything.

Patience is a Virtue - September 20, 2004
BabyCakes - November 24, 2004
Memories - November 30, 2004
Virgin Pina Coladas and Sushi - December 05, 2004
PMS - Decemeber 13, 2004
Raindrops on Roses - Decemember 15, 2005

Well I never got around to putting my stuff back in their proper places and I've only accumulated more crap over the years (self-confessed shopaholic, remember?). Add to that my pack rat tendencies (it literally hurts me to throw pretty packaging away). My sister had to physically hold me back while I watched KumKum throw away my pretty shoeboxes and plastic bags. Nevertheless, I've managed to hide away a few of my beloved shoe boxes away from them in secret places (our house is old like 30+ years old so there's no shortage of secret hiding places).

That said, I feel like taking up almost the entire top floor (the only place that's Drunk'n'Gorgeous-free is my parents' bedroom and that's only because it's under lock and key) is a bit much. When my sweet little mother (God rest her soul) was alive, she'd get KumKum and whomever was working for us at the time to do a sneak attack. I'd be out of the house for whatever reason, and they'd all go in and clean, clean, clean. So by the time I got back, my room was spic and span. If I was home, I'd never let them in my room 'cuz they move my stuff around. I didn't care that they moved my stuff that's in my sister's room, the bathroom, the hall, and the family living room but I did care about the stuff in my room.

As for the stuff spilling out into my sister's room, the family living room, and even the bathrooms, I had a rational explanation for everything, and I gave it to them, every single time my parents asked me to remove or at least organize my things. My sister was married and out of the house, so where was the harm in storing my clothes in her room? They were appeased 'til I kept on buying more and more stuff, and without even taking them out of their plastic bags, stored them in my sister's room. Pretty soon, the navy blue carpeting barely showed. The closets were already full 'cuz my sister was still apartment-hopping with her husband while they found a nice place they wanted to settle in. So I moved on to the bed. Once her room could hold no more of my crap, I moved on the family living room.

My family hasn't had a meal or watched tv in the family living room in years, all because my stuff was in the way. I'd stored my candles and figurines on every unoccupied surface I could find. Then I did the whole shop and drop thing. I'd go out and buy stuff and leave them in the plastic bags they came in, on the carpet. " but there's no space in my room", I'd tell them, when confronted. As for the bathrooms, they had the best lighting so that's where I put makeup on and as a result my makeup and hair products were strewn all over the place. I also liked the floor-length mirror in the hall so I'd sit down and do my makeup there, from time to time. Again, as a result my makeup products were scattered about.

My parents knew about my obsession with makeup, random paraphernila, and all things japanese. It even amused them at times. My dad would jokingly say "Yeah, that's very important to have. I can see that being very useful in the future", when I'd shown him two packs of white feathers that I'd just purchased from IKEA. Their favorite thing to tease me about when it came to my "useless" purchases was the glow-in-the-dark buddha I'd purchased from the United Kingdom years ago. So my obsessions grew on them to the point that they themselves started getting me stuff. My sweet little mother would routinely buy me Dior or Lancome gift sets because she knew I loved their mascaras and lipglosses. She'd also take me out for sushi even though she hated japanese food. My dad obviously had no clue about makeup so whenever he left the country, he'd ask for the newest products which worked out great for me. My dad was actually the one who introduces me to the wonderful world of Geurlain (when he came back from Lebanon after checking out our soon-to-be-home over there) buy buying me their whole collection. Then after seeing how it was too much for just one person he told me to share it with my sister which worked out great 'cuz we both have very different tastes in makeup so we both took what the other didn't want. God, I get side-tracked easily, don't I? Point is, they were okay with it.

What they weren't okay with though were my magazines. I'd go the co-op's bookstore and buy up all my magazines. Then I'd leave them lying around the house after reading them. It irked them to no end. I even did that at the chalet. My magazines were everywhere. It bugged everyone. Even the cabinets in our aparment in Cyprus are full of magazines. Every year, my magazines get given away/thrown out but by the time we leave, I've accumulated enough to fill up the entire cabinet and that's where they stay, 'til the next time we go. It's not the same in Lebanon because Virgin is too far away for me to go buy alot of magazines and carry them with me 'til it's time for me to go back up the mountains (aka home).

Then I did something super-dumb. Around Decemeber 2007 I subsribed to my magazines. Every month via Aramex, my magazines came, minus the horrid black censor marks. Best part was they came a full week or so before the month began. The magazine issues that are sold in Kuwait usually arrive mid-month which is retarded. Why would I buy June's issue of Marie Claire when there are only two weeks left 'til July? Anyways, I subscribed to Seventeen (shut-up, it's cute and I like it therefore I will continue to read it), Vogue, Teen Vogue, Cosmopilitan, CosmoGirl, Elle, Marie Claire, Glamour, Lucky, InStyle, and last but most of important of all Allure. They came in January 2008 and I read them all greedily from cover to cover, poring lovingly over each page. My mother had gone to Germany with my sister but not before asking me to organize the top floor. I said I would but in February I went to them in Germany. The magazines arrived. I came back in March. More magazines arrived. Then I got a job. They became even more. Then my sweet little mother passed away. I couldn't read. I couldn't do anything. The pile of magazines grew and grew and grew. Right now, the piles of magazines are so high and daunting that I can't bear to even look a them, let alone read them. Thankfully, they eventually stopped coming. My dad warned me about subscribing again. As if I wanted to...

Then I became obsessed with online shopping and shoes. I could not get enough shoes. Platforms, slides, pumps, kitten-heels, gladiators, wedges, peep-toes, flats, thongs, flip-flops, cowboy boots, slouchy boots, and even rainboots (regardless of the fact that, you know, I live in a desert). My dad had to step in. I was going crazy. Eventually, I stopped ordering shoes. I moved on to ordering makeup, skincare, and haircare products. The family living room had reached it's capacity. I could not stuff in anymore of my... stuff.

When Dad and his friends left for Germany a short while ago, he told me to organize the entire top floor or else he would throw everything in the trash. He also called me a couple of times to threaten me some more, and even threatened to throw away the new mascaras and creams which I'd asked for and he'd already purchased along with my stuff. He assured me he meant it. My family had decided that I could use the guest room for closet space or whatever else I wanted to do with it, as long as I got my crap out of the way, and organized the top floor.

So I did what anyone else would do. I made a playlist and turned up the music full blast and got to it, starting with my sister's room. KumKum and Fatima (our new helper) and I got all my clothes from my sister's room and hung them on the stands in the guest room. I don't know how to fold clothes and gave up on ever learning so that's what they were there for. After that, I wanted to do everything by myself so I'd know where everything was. That's the result of the surprise attacks. KumKum would move everything around when she cleaned. That's why I was and still am always am late for everything, 'cuz I don't know where a certain pair of (fill in the blank) are. KumKum and Fatima actually slowed me down. So when we ran out of hangers, I sent them all out with the driver to get some more just go get them out of my way. When they were back, we continued 'til none of my clothes were in my sister's room and it only took a couple of hours. I thought it would take weeks.

I moved on to the shoes 'cuz they took up the most space but surprisingly when they were all organized, they didn't take that much space. Then I think I broke my back or at least threw it out but I managed to get my magazines in boxes and shoved them in the storage balcony (it's indoors). Then I moved on to cosmetics. I may be messy when it comes to everything else but I take extremely good care of my makeup. I'm pretty anal about the way they're organized. Over the years, I've managed to get quit a decent collection of storage containers. I have like a billion of those trays with little compartments. A billion more of those little itty bitty containers with shelving units. Using those, I lovingly organized my makeup.

When I was done, the guest room looked great, the family living room was 70% clear, and you could see the navy blue carpeting in my sister's room again! My bedroom on the otherhand looked like a tornado had passed through. Dad came back and was pleased with the results... then I guess I just stopped cleaning. My stuff is still everywhere, only less of it.

Then my younger brother decided he no longer wanted the pool table 'cuz it was taking too much space (he was doing a little redocorating of his own) so Dad was like "Okay, we'll just put it in the family living room... today". I had a deadline, again. So I moved alot of my stuff around and the dude who does the aligning came and they set it up.

Dad left for the Phillipines a couple days ago with his friend. He was like "When I come back I want your room to be clean and I want the rest of this stuff gone. Sure! Promise? Promise!" Thing is, I just found out he's only going for a week, which means he's coming back tomorrow or the day after and I haven't done jack since he left. I texted him last night wishing him a Happy Father's Day. His reply "Clean your room as my gift for father's day, thanks." The man means business.

My friends are always begging me to let them organize my room. I. am. not. joking. They're all like "Please let me bring my sister and we'll organize it". My reply is always the same "Go drown, please". It's my room (and such a tiny one at that) so I gotta do it... but still. I'm super lazy. I wish those fairies from "Sleeping Beauty" Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather were real. Then they could wave their wands and my room and the rest of the top floor would be magically organized! If and only if.

Al-Messila Beach (uber-long post)

It's summertime and what better way to occupy myself than by swimming. Let alone that I love swimming! I've never in my entire life ever been to Al-Messila Beach (girls only days are Saturday, Monday, and Thursday). My favorite cousin S. (who is half lebanese) went with her lebanese cousin M. on Thursday with the sole objective of working on their tans. I declined the invite because I had to go to the chalet with my family, thinking I'd get to swim over there. Wrong.

I got there at nine-ish, too late to do anything. So I hung out with el-familia till dawn. Didn't get much sleep, maybe two hours worth, max, but I didn't care. I was so psyched and ready to jump in the water. Sadly, everyone else only starting waking up around noon. At around three, I found my sister and her hubby splashing around in the sea. I try to avoid swimming barefoot in the sea so I was super-shocked when I jumped in, water-shoes and all, only to find them both barefoot. I told them to wear their water-shoes but they just laughed. A few minutes later, my brother in law cut his feet on some rocks resulting in long, bloody, mean-looking gashes. Then my sister stepped on something and said it really hurt. She thought it was a splinter or something. I offered to take her to the clinic but she refused saying we were all having such a good time and she didn't wanna' ruin it. That's why we nicknamed her Mother Teresa as a joke, ages ago. The pain gradually spread all the way from her foot to her knee but I told her to swim it off (just like that time in '07 when she told me that was in pain at the airport in Cyprus and I told her to walk it off, later on it turned out that she'd fractured her ankle). Then Mary (my sister's helper) brought LuLu (my sister's kid) out to join us so I told Mary to get water shoes for sissy and her hubby, 'cuz we're already in the water. She got the water-shoes and they put them on. Then my older bro joined us. I finally relaxed and started to have fun.

I love swimming but I'm deathly afraid of jellyfish, always have been, ever since I could rememeber. I honestly, have no clue where I picked this fear up from. I'd pick sharks and what-have-you over jellyfish any day. So, I have a strategy when swimming. Get lots of people in the water and discreetly try to stay in the center. That way, the chances of me getting stung decrease greatly. Everyone knows about my fear of jellyfish and everyone knows about my "strategy" when swimming in the sea. They think it's hilarious, though.

Then my knee started acting up so I spoke up which cracked everyone up 'cuz my nickame amongst family members is "3ayooza" which literally means "old lady". More on that in another post. My brother in law J. splashed water on my sister's face. So she chased him to splash him back. He swam away from her to the shallow side of the shore but when he put his hand down, he got cut again. This time it was 'cuz our chalet's guard had put the fishing trap thingy there. It was supposed to be farther out, where it couldn't hurt anyone. So my sister's husband got more nasy cuts on his hand. Then my older bro's leg started cramping which made us all crack up. It was almost like were jinxed and again I was to blame because I wanted to swim so bad that I jinxed everyone, or so they claimed.

After about two hours, everyone got out of the water, which bummed me out 'cuz I sure as hell wasn't gonna stay in all alone. My sis assured me that we'd swim some more tomorrow. I super-psyched and could barely sleep, again. Morning came, but the dust was everywhere. I hoped it would clear up by afternoon but it didn't. When it finally did, it was time to leave the chalet but not after taking sissy to the clinic 'cuz by then she was limping. Turns out she'd stepped on a sea urchin. The doctor was all "You should've come as soon as you felt the pain. How could you stand waiting this long?" She pointed at me saying I told her it was "nothing". Oops :P

Next week, I was like screw this, I'm not going all the way to the chalet only to get two hours worth of swimming/tanning in. So after my cousin told me about the Mythical (always hear about it but never been) Messila beach, I decided, why not?

Why not, indeed. Come saturday (a whole week later), at around noon, I wore my swimsuit, put on some shorts and a loose t-shirt. I accesserized (man oh man is that a hard word to spell, had too look it up too) with bright green aviators from H&M, and slim, bright green, plastic, braided bracelets from this cute little accessories store (aptly named accessories) in Cyprus, and multi-colored thong platforms from Rampage (that come with an adorable bell). Idiot that I am, I got the platforms online in a size 9 (two sizes to big) because I'm actually a size 39 so I assumed in US sizes that meant I was a size 9. Oh well. They're still supah kawaii! I stuffed my towel, mobile, and 3 KD in a white organic cotton tote bag I got from Mark&Spencer featuring Twiggy and was on my way.

Sadly, I didn't even know where to go. I just went on shari3 il-7ob (love street) all the way 'till the second to last traffic light before it turns to Gulf Street and took a right. Then continued straight till one of the traffic lights that if you turn left, takes you directly to Gulf Road. Yeah... I suck with directions. Oh well. So at the traffic light, I ask this chick where to go and she tells me to follow her 'cuz it's on her way. Turns out I was pretty close to Messila Beach. I had to turn left at the traffic light, then take the first right which would make Burger King on my right, just keep heading straigh and Messila Beach's entrance would be on my left. I thanked her and headed in. The entrance fee was 2KD. I'd stupidly assumed it was free. Inside, I found an empty parking space and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked...

Seems like the place was meant to be a theme park or Water World or summat. There were all sorts of pools, rides, slides, and bridges connecting over the pools. The only thing missing was actual water. Everything was dry and dusty. Even the place was deserted. I kept walking and crossing bridges and didn't see a single soul. Finally I call up my cousin and she tells me to keep heading straight and eventually I'll get to the beach. I finally saw some people and wish I hadn't seen.

On my right was an itty bitty air-conditioned shack that sold snacks consisting of soda (They had shani! yay!) caramel popcorn, nachos, chips, chocolates, etc... It was like a mini-baqala except everything was triple the price :P On my left was another mini-shack that had water-floats displayed on the outside, and I'm guessing swimsuits inside. I'm not sure 'cuz I wasn't really looking. I kept on heading straight and saw a tall narrow gate on my left. There was a long line of girls waiting for the gate to be unlocked. I couldn't see what was behind the gate. On my right was a clearing of grass with white plastic tables chairs and girls smoking sheeshas (hooka pipes). I kept on heading straight and on my left was the bathrooms. Outside of the bathrooms was a water fountain (baraada). Finally I saw the beach straight ahead.

There were girls everywhere! Girls in line at the baqala. Girls in line at the gate. Girls going in and coming out of the float/swimsuit shop. Girls going in and coming out of the bathrooms. Girls drinking water at the water fountain. Girls smoking sheeshas. Girls heading towards the beach. Girls coming from the beach. Girls, girls, and more girls! It's not actually the girls I had a problem with. It was what they were wearing... or not wearing to be exact.

I saw so many chicks barely covered up. Some were in swimsuits but the majority were in bikinis. Some bikinis barely covered their hoo-haa's! I saw enough booty and boobies to last me a life-time. Ugh!

I also saw so many obese (not just over-weight, not just fat, but literally obese) girls wearing string bikinis. It wasn't just one or two or ten, it was ALOT. If an obese chick was covered up at the beach, I and most kuwaities (don't deny it) would go "maku thiqa" meaning "no self-confidence", but if she wears a thong we'd say "shino hal thiqa" meaning "what's with the over-confidence". I'm sure there's something that can be worn that would be considered middleground, though. Fine, more power to them.

Then there's the super-hairy chicks. I understand if there was a little stubble on their bodies it just mean that they'd shaved recently, and didn't feel like doing it again so soon. I understand if there was even a lot of stubble on their legs or armpits, it means they were in that in-between stage where they were growing it out so it could be waxed off again, it's gross that they were actually walking around like that in public but I can understand. You can't wax hair when it's too short. What I saw was girls was girls who have never heard of shaving/waxing in their lives. That, I don't understand. How could they even leave their homes like that? How can they LIVE like that? I believe that it's unhygienic!

I also saw hordes of what I assumed at first to be hot guys. Nice profile, nice hairstyle, rockin' the aviators--- holy shit that's a girl! Yeah, I kept on having that reaction all day. Messila Beach is like catnip to any "butch chick" or "Booya". I don't mind gays and lesbians doing their thang. It's just, they really looked like guys. A lot of them had slim bodies, no boobies, no booties, crew cuts, surfer-boy jewelry, and beautiful yet androgynous faces. My small brain couldn't handle it. It would be like seeing men wearing mini-skirts out in public. It's confusing! They looked so much like guys that even the lifeguards/security women checked their IDs from time to time to make sure they were actually girls. BTW, even the lifeguard/security chicks were all butch.

I'm not complaining.... I'm just saying... I was a bit... okay, I was REALLY... overwhelmed.

So I finally reach my fave cousin S. and her brother's wife M. They were both dressed... like everyone else. They are both super-conservative but S. was wearing a Tankini with a bikini/skirt matching bottom. M. was wearing a bikini bottom with a tankini top which she'd folded up into a bikini. They were both laying on their stomaches on the sunbed, all shiny from the tanning oil. All around us, everyone had a table with an umbrella attached to it, and a couple of chairs. The sunbeds, you actually had to drag to wherever you wanted it to be. Some chicks had gotten the sheeshas all the way out on the beach and were busy huffing and puffing away. I took off my t-shirt but refused to take off my shorts 'cuz I'm "shy". My cousin was all "They'll think you're batting for the other team if you don't take your shorts off". I told her to go drown.

The water was so refreshing after that hot trek from the parking lot. All three of us waded in. I was barefoot so I refused to go in further unless I could see that there were no rocks or fish underneath me. I'd take a step, wait until the water was still, peer in, take another step and so on until it was deep enough for me to lift up legs and swim. I'd rather not touch the seabed. M. and S. were standing and I was in the middle dog paddling in place. It was refreshing but filthy. There were empty plastic bags that bread usually comes in, empty bottles and cans, papercups, etc..You name it, I found it. That bummed me out a bit. Shame on you, Kuwaities.

Come to think of it, I'd never really gotten to know M. She married K. my cousin who happens to be S's older brother in the summer of '07. I saw her alot at gatherings and so on but but I'm uber-loud and always chattering away to whomever will listen so we never really had a conversation before so we got to know each other that day a little. Turns out she's only older than me by a little bit and she's super-sweet! I found out that she didn't know how to swim so I took it upon myself to teach her. I failed but there's always next time.

Some guys on jet-skis showed up out of nowhere so this voice comes up on the intercom warning the guys to go away because today is "girls only". The guys are too far away to actually see anything but still both my cousin and her sister-in-law are mohajabaat, let alone the other chicks. Plus, most chicks are half nakey-nakey. The voice warns the guys that if they don't leave, they're sending the coast guard after them. They left and M.and S. and I decided to dry off and go back to tanning. The sun was barely visible, of course and there was a slight wind so I was sorta' cold. Gubusa strikes back. We alternate between swimming a bit and tanning but not too much 'cuz the walk across the scalding sand to our sunbeds was a killer. I didn't put any sunscreen on so I decided to use any tanning oil, either. I saw a couple of chicks looking like burn victims. Up close, it turned out that they had slathered on a home-made mix of henna, gazelle blood?, and some other crap... It looked disgusting and when they got in the water, it turned the water around them all blood-red. I even saw a couple of chicks with facial masks on :/

We were all starving so M said that her sister was on her way and she could grab us lunch from Burger King. When M's sister called, M. & S. went to get her 'cuz she couldn't carry the stuff all by herself. I stayed behind to guard our crap. The geniuses left thier mobiles behind. Eventually, I saw a mohajaba chick in a tracksuit far away with two Burger King bags in her hand. She was really far away. I waved to her 'til she waved back. Then she headed towards me and I went to her to help her carry the stuff. I'd only met her once before at M & K's wedding and that was 2 years ago so I barely remembered her. It was the same for her. She was really friendly and super-shy as well. Runs in the family, I guess. I told her that the others had gone to get her and left their phones. She told me that she figured that out 'cuz she was calling and calling but no one picked up. When the others came back, they asked me how I recognized her. I told them, it was 'cuz of the plastic bags from Burger King, which cracked them up.

After lunch, M's sister refused to take her tracksuit off. I still couldn't believe that she was still wearing it, in this heat. She agreed to strip down to her bikini but only if we all turned away from her. She was really shy. She was wearing a tankini and short-shorts. We all got into the water and I tried to teach M. how to swim again. Her sister on the otherhand knew how to swim and loved it. Again, we alternated between swimming and tanning (even though the sun was barely visible from all the dust). Feeling brave, I trekked to the water by myself and got in. Then something bit me on the left side of my neck. It really stung. Everyone was too far off. So I asked this kid swimming next to me if there was anything on my neck. She said it was really red. I thanked her and went back to swimming 'cuz the pain went away. I felt another sting on the lower part of my right breast. It burned even more. I freaked out and decided to get away from whatever was trying to have foreplay with me.

The girls wanted to go swim in the pool. So we dried off and headed back towards the place I first came to. We headed towards the tall, narrow gate. Apparently behind the gate was a pool that actually had water. In fact, there were several pools. There were also some more butch lifeguards. Their uniform were cut-out swimsuits in gorgeous neon colors underneath a white t-shirt that said Messila Beach or some shit like that in hot pink. It really off-set their tans.

We were still standing in line at the gate for them to open the gate. The pool's opening hours were from 12:00pm-3:00pm and they they closed for an hour so the lifeguards can go on their breaks. Then they opened again from 4:00pm-6:00pm. That's what I caught from one of the signs so I'm guessing those are the official hours. Just like everything else in my dear yet corrupt country, it's not really implemented. The lifeguards made us wait outside for 15 minutes. When the gates were finally opened, everyone ran in to claim sunbeds or table/chair combos in prime spots. Usually shy M. sprinted and found us a good place directly next to the stairs that led to the pool. The pool was elevated so you actually had to climb short set of stairs to get in. It's not as glamorous as it sounds. Then, everyone covered their hair up with swimming caps. I was like wtf 'cuz my cousin never mentioned any of this to me. She was all "Oh yeah, you can't go in with your hair uncovered." She didn't feel the need to give me a headsup :/ It took a minute for it to sink in. The swimming caps were hideous. "Where can I get a swimming cap"? "You can get a "bonnet" from the float/swimsuit shop outside for 1 KD". So I tied my hair up in a high bun then wore the swimming cap. It wouldn't fit and I looked like a member of the conehead family but I refused to tie my hair in a low bun. We showered off the sand, and then swam in the pool. I was really cautious about any water getting into my eyes because I was afraid I'd catch something especially after seeing how filthy girls can be, back at the beach. Didn't wanna catch pink eye or something. I didn't even wanna set foot in the water but I didn't wanna be a spoilsport so I took one for the team :P The water was really warm and after a bit we all lost interest so we headed out.

We all piled into S's car which was a stone's throw away from the beach and she drove each of us to our individual cars. Then the girls all wore their hijabs and stuff all the while glaring at me 'cuz all I had to do was wear my t-shirt and I was done. M. even muttered something about it all being very touch and go. I blew her a kiss in response. So yeah, I'm extremely obnoxious ;)

The next day, I look in the mirror and the place where I got stung was all red and inflamed. I was so proud of it. Like it was my badge of surviving whatever stung me. I showed anyone and everyone whether they wanted to see it or not. My dad told me to go to the hospital. I refused because I don't trust the doctors here and that was that.

Come monday, S. took her baby brother with her to Al-Messila Beach. I showed up after having breakfast. This time, I parked my car really close to the beach. The sun was shining that day so the sand was scorching. Her baby brother looked adorable as always! He's the only one out of S's siblings that looks completely lebanese. So cute! This time, I was prepared for the bombardment of boobs and booty. S. watched me as I took off my shirt and then shorts. Her mouth hung open. I'm usually very shy and self-consious but I was wearing a black halter bikini with neon multi-colors. It was so cute! I got it from that cute little store in Cyprus that I had mentioned before. That's one of the pros of being a shopaholic, you have something for every occasion. I wrapped a gorgeous blue sarong from Marks & Spencers around my hips because the bikini was the type you tie together at the sides and I was afraid they'd come untie themselves or something... I dunno. By the end of the day though, I was strutting around sarong-less. I showed S. my scars and she showed the appropriate attention I wanted so I proceeded to regale her with my story. Attention whore? Me? No! :P

We swam with S's baby brother 'til it was time for him to leave. Then we just tanned (I used Johnson's baby oil gel with chamomile) and laughed at some of the things he had said. I love kids at that age! They're so cute and actually pretty hilarious! Again, jet-ski guys showed up. Again they were told off. Again, Indian workers at the nearby hotel were peeking in the windows. Again they got told off. S. went for a dip without me and returned back with her face all crumpled up like she was about to cry and she really was about to cry. "What's wrong"? "I found a tampon in the water". Gross. We decided to swim further out because the farther you got in the water, the cleaner it was. Actually, S. was doing all the swimming. I just latched on to her back 'cuz I was afraid of what was in the water. We had our fill of swimming. So we tanned, 'til we were both satisfied with our color. Then we went home and made plans to come back on Thursday.

Come Thursday, it was really dusty so we nixed the idea :/ I'm starting to think I really am a jinx...

Uppu-dayto!

Even Aunt Flow had the decency to wait 'till a day after the elections!

Sissy and her hubby are back from Aswan. My family and I have decided to get a mosque built in honor of our sweet little mother (may she rest in peace). We all decided on Egypt because the poverty rate over there is pretty high. So my sister and her husband went to check out Aswan, Egypt and found a prime spot right in the middle of town. They were gone for a week so they sent their babies and the babies' nannies to come sleep over at our house. I was really ill the first few days so I was literally banned from hanging out with the babies... and now they gotta leave, which blows.

Dad left the country for Germany with his pals to attend a wedding. His friend (who happens to be a grandfather) is finally marrying his live-in girlfriend (who happens to be a grandmother). After years of living together, might as well, eh? No stigma, no nothing. How awesome is that?!

KumKum has been an absolute nightmare for about a year now! I had absolutely no clue how to deal with her so I just.......... didn't. Thankfully, a new helper arrived today and just like that, KumKum is back to her old self again. I hope KumKum doesn't bully the new helper like she did with the others 'cuz then I'd have to step in and I really, really, really don't wanna step in. we3

While glancing at one of the photos of Dr Salwa Al-Jassar, it occured to me that her face seemed very familiar. I racked my brain trying to figure out what would connect me to her. I got a flashback of hanging out at her home. Another of us in a park celebrating "Gerge3aan". Gradually, it came to me. I literally grew up with one of her daughters. We had attended the same school together for years. So good on you Khaltee Salwa!

My favorite cousin S. and I have really bonded over the past year. She's also been a great influence on me. See I don't think like normal kuwaity chicks. I have zero qualms with doing whatever I wanna do, whenever I wanna do it. She is the voice of reason that's missing from my head :P I've always adored her!

Lastly, I've discovered this new-found obsession with the color "hot pink"! Case in point, my blog's new layout :P