Shame on You, Lebanese!

This past Sunday evening I was sitting at home, relaxing and watching TV. It was a tranquil night and I was unwinding just before the start of a hectic work week. I had a DVD of one of my favorite shows playing, and I was sipping some de-stressing tea concoction ... when, all of a sudden, I hear POW POW POW. Gunshots? I nearly jumped out of my seat, hand on heart. Are we under attack again? Is another war erupting?

NO! It was none of those things. The reason for the uproar? Brazil scored a goal against the Ivory Coast. Imagine the stupidity of some people!

Okay, so we all understand that the World Cup is a huge big deal (to losers who act as if football is their life) but that is no excuse for such antics. I mean really, are gunshots really necessary when your favorite team scores a goal? Are you that pathetic that the highlight of the past four years is a football game? I know this blog entry is off track from my usual ones, but I am sooooo disgusted with my fellow countrymen right now that I had to let out my frustration. (And unlike the morons going around shooting in the air, I know that the pen is mightier than the sword.) That night, I didn't get to sleep until after 1.30am because of all the retarded people that were driving around in their cars or on mopeds, honking their horns and blowing those annoying as hell vuzuwhateverthehelltheircalled horns. How brain dead are these people? Even genuine Brazilians living in Brazil don't act so stupidly!

I have a message for those idiots: HELLO DUMBASSES, NO MATTER HOW MUCH OF AN IDIOT YOU MAKE OF YOURSELF, NO MATTER HOW MANY T-SHIRTS YOU WEAR OR FLAGS YOU WAVE, YOU ARE NOT BRAZILIAN - or German, or Italian or Spanish, for that matter.

The next morning, a talk show radio host was discussing all the raucous the night before, and this poor woman phoned in saying that the animals shooting in the air shattered all the glass panes in her windows. She called the police and all dumb and dumber could say was, 'Well you know, boys will be boys and it is the World Cup,' because of course football is as good excuse as any to shoot loaded weapons in a residential area. So what if an innocent person could get shot? IT'S FOOTBALL ... totally worth it. Deputy Dawg and co. then advised the woman not to press charges, because God forbid they get off their lazy asses and actually do their jobs and put away a**holes disturbing the peace.

Then this other jerk phones in and says, 'Yeah, so what? We want to have fun, we want to enjoy ourselves. We have the right to have a good time.' Uhh, not if said 'good time' requires guns and bullets, ya ahbal. Haram, poor guy, we really shouldn't judge him since I'm sure that listening to all that vuzuwhatever crap has given him permanent brain damage.

Now, I'm not saying that the World Cup isn't fun - it is - or that I don't enjoy watching the matches - I do - but that doesn't mean that I throw all civility out the door just because my favorite team is playing. It also doesn't mean that I should strap on a pair of revolvers and go all Annie Oakley on everybody when they score a goal. Helllooooo, it's just a game people. Shame on you for thinking otherwise. Shame on you for all the noise. Shame on you for all the bullets. Shame on you for being such uncivilized beasts and bothering so many people...

SHAME ON YOU!

Have I made my point? Now, with all that said ... GO USA :) !!

I Can't Get No Satisfaction

The other day I was shocked to find myself talking to a Lebanese male who actually reads ... as in books. Anyway, he asked me what I like to read and as I began to list my faves, he arrogantly interrupted me, saying, "Please don't tell me you're into that whole vampire crap." Okay, well, I wasn't going to mention those books because I've already read them ... all ... but after his whole condescending tone I found myself a little bit peeved and so I replied, indignant and proud, "Actually, I do love those books. I know you guys don't get why we women are so into the whole Twilight and True Blood stuff, so allow me to explain: sometimes fake vampires are just so much better than real life men." I then began to list the ways...

1. Grooming
Vamps: In the Twilight and True Blood books the vamp heroes (Edward and Eric, respectively) are beyond hot, especially Eric (MadGlam can totally back me up on this one). In short, they are perfect looking, with Edward not only having great hair but also irresistible breath and Eric having a towering Viking bod that would make lesbians drool.

Real dudes: Well, I know I'm no Gisele and so when I'm at the gym or beach, I don't really expect to see a real life guy that has a killer bod, but hello, at minimum if your back makes you look more like a werewolf than a human, then WAX IT. No, taking a shower and wearing deodorant is not enough! It really irks me that most guys in this country take no time to groom themselves when we women are expected to look flawless at all times. From unibrows to hairy backs, we've got it all, which is why we'd rather get our hunk fix from out of a book than in real life.

                        I 'll take this           ...          Over that!

2. Manners

Vamps: They're suave, sophisticated, attentive and charming. What more could a girl ask for? When Edward and Eric love, they love hard and make us sigh dreamily with every romantic gesture. Who could blame a gal for swooning at Edward's undying love for his beloved? And Eric - well he is just so damn hot! 

Real dudes: Some friends wanted to introduce me to a guy that they described as every bit as fantastic as a hunky vamp, so I agreed to yet another setup (because I never follow my own advice). Anyway, as you probably already guessed if you read my blind date blog, he was, unsurprisingly, a total troll. But that wasn't the main problem with this guy, he was so completely rude, so completely the opposite of a gentleman that right in front of me he asked his pal about this busty blonde at the table behind us! Did I mention that he looked like a troll? Yeah, you see, Edward would never do that!

3. Attitude

Vamps: Edward is a total gem - he is moral, honorable and respectful, and treats his lady love like a jewel. In fact, his attitude could not be more admirable. Now when it comes Eric ... okay, admittedly he does have a little bit of an attitude problem, but who cares? He is just so damn hot! So unless your over 6 ft., blond and completely ripped with Viking roots, don't think you can get away with the same antics. 

Real dudes: In Lebanon, because there are hardly any single men left, most guys think they can get away with completely abominable behavior, like not calling when the say they will, standing you up for a soccer match on TV, or trying to convince you that getting a massage with a happy ending is totally ok.

Now do you see why we find vampires so much more appealing than what real life has to offer? It's just like the Rolling Stones said, I just can't get no satisfaction!

Karma is a Bitch!

I once read that the Dalai Lama said inner peace is about choosing how you react to a situation: you can choose to be mad/angry or you can choose to let it go and be happy. Hmmm, well he must never have come to Lebanon. I really want to be one of those people that can do that, though, I really, really, really, do. They say, after all, that it's all about Karma - i.e., you get what you give out. So, I always try to be polite and considerate, expecting the same treatment in kind, but that just doesn't always happen. The reason? Karma really is a bitch, and guess what? I've met her ... more than once!

Before I begin my tale, however, I must insert this short preamble. In Lebanon, it's in the people's DNA to immediately remark on another person's weight, whether colleagues, acquaintances/relatives or even complete strangers. They will just come up to you, say hello, immediately followed by, "Yiiii, shoo nashanee," which translates into, "Oh my, you've gotten so fat." They will then follow the statement with either, "But it looks good on you," or, "What have you done with yourself," depending on if your reaction is a 'what the *#$*%*?' facial expression, or an amiable admission to said weight gain, respectively. For the record, I have never been so rude as to tell anyone that they've gained weight, yet Karma has still found a way for me to be on the receiving end of such bitchy remarks.

Take for example one fine day in Beirut, when I was on my way up the elevator to get to my office (I was working at this unfortunate company at the time) and these two receptionists were having this conversation at the front desk in the lobby right in front me as I stepped in:
Bitchy Receptionist #1: "You know what's weird about Anissa? Some days she looks really thin and other days, she looks really fat."
Bitchy Receptionist #2: "Yeah, you're absolutely right."
[Both look straight at me as elevator door closes and my jaw drops in shock]

And then there was the time I was in the locker room at my gym and I was making sure everything was tucked in the right places in the mirror before heading out to the treadmill when this random chick comes up to me and starts this lovely conversation:
Random Locker Room Chick: "Hey, have you ever considered liposuction for your thighs?"
Me: [Face in total horror at extremely inappropriate remark from complete stranger] "No! And I can't believe you just told me that."
RLRC: [Noticing my horrified facial expression] "Oh, I was just kidding, ha ha ha."
Yeah, nice save Random Locker Room Chick, who I don't even know and even if I did WHO SAYS THAT?  

And so-called friends can also jump on the rude bandwagon, like the time I was having lunch with Miss Bitches A Lot and we had this short but illuminating conversation:
MBAL: So, do you want dessert?
Me: No thanks.
MBAL: Oh why? Is it because of your thighs?
Me: NO!
Now, how can any normally functioning female emit positive energy after hearing that? Actually, maybe those people do exist - they're called ROBOTS! Oh wait ... positive energy, positive energy, positive energy.

Okay, so obviously I still need to work on the whole 'learning to let things go for inner peace' thing. But sometimes I wonder, is Karma trying to send me a message about my thighs? If so, then seriously, what a bitch!

Beauty Salon Bitches

Yes, yes,  I know... I am absolutely the worst blogger ever, which is why this is the blog that no one reads. And how can I blame readers out there?? I have not updated my blog for three whole weeks! Oh, mon dieu! In blogger time, that's like 50 years. My blog is so neglected that it's begining to mold! The reason for my inexusable lapse in writing is a tortuous job I was working on that depleted my soul of any ability to write creatively. Yes, it was that bad. But, on Friday, I finally finished with it - WOHOO! - for good and now I can get back to life as I know it.

Speaking of life as I know it, the other day I went to get my hair done (even though I was busy with work, as every Lebanese gal knows, there must always be time for grooming, no matter what!) and after 14 years living in this country, it never ceases to amaze me how annoying beauty salon bitches can be. I had actually taken an appointment - you know, when you call ahead of time and make sure the hairdresser can take you at a specific time - and I arrived right on time - a concept foreign to most Lebanese. Anyway, I get there and the salon is an aboslute mad house. A lot of foreigners were in town, still on holiday, and as if it wasn't bad enough that they can't drive worth a damn and cause the worst traffic jams ever, they also think that the Lebanese should cater to their every whim, because naturally, the world revolves around them.

My hairstylist was very apologetic and said he would get to me as soon as possible. I'm not the pushy type, so I told him not to worry about it and took a seat in the waiting room and patiently waited my turn. Have you ever noticed that at the hair salon, nearly every woman has like this emergency situation so that they need to get their hair done right away because they are so much more important than everyone else and, naturally, too good to wait? They march in with their fake boobs and fake lips, wearing outfits more appropriate for their grandchildren and wail, 'Dakheelak ya ______, lazim itruk ba'ad sa'ah, a'ndee mow'ad.' Yeah, if that's the case then MAKE A BLOODY APPOINTMENT.

Anyway ... I waited 45 minutes and finally went in to get my hair done, which brings me to my next beauty salon rant. Why, oh why, do they allow women to smoke at the hairdresser? Is there anything more annoying than getting your hair washed and blow dried, only to have some vulgar cow sitting next to you blowing smoke into your freshly styled locks??

Oufft! These beauty salon bitches bring new meaning to the word 'inconsiderate.' Hmmm, sounds like they need to pick up a copy of my book and read chapter 13 on minding manners for a refresher course on how to be polite!