STORIES, STORIES

Manage relationships like you're managing employees. 2 praises for every criticism.

They say you can always tell what a woman's like by the things you find in her bag. I say that's another bullshit way of categorizing people. You know, like how you can tell a person by the music they listen to? So what if I enjoy pop music? Does that make me a shallow, unintelligent, sheeple-ish person? And so what if it does? Judge me. Mom's friend from London sent her this bag as a gift, which I promptly snatched. I'm not big on bags, but I like this oversized lady purse. I'm probably gonna be using it everyday for the next year or so. Sunglasses. Bank receipts. Wallet. Chocolate. Make-up bag. Book. Headphones. Perfume. Flash disk. Keys. Cigarettes. iPod. Hand cream. Bobby pins.

Here's my "That's My World Tuesday" * blog post application. Hopefully, they will see the genius behind my magnificent pictures and posts and, well, make me president or something. [* It's a website where bloggers can submit/contribute pictures they took of their surroundings and be the "tour guide" of their cities. ] *** This is a picture I took of a pharmacy. You can't really tell, but it's Nahdi Pharmacy, the one on Sary Street. Actually, I don't think it's the one on Sary Street. And maybe it's not even Nahdi Pharmacy. I dunno. This is a picture of the huge City Plaza in front of Iceland, on Sultan Street. You can't really tell, but it is. I tried to take more pictures, but my driver Mr Fazel won't slow down. I think it's because we were in the middle of the street and there were a lot of cars. I dunno. You can't really see it, but this is a picture of the El-Maghraby Eye Hospital on Tareeg Madinah. I wanted my fri...

Since I opened that can of worms in my last post (the one with the skinny-fatty tirade), I might as well talk about the elephant in the room that is my Weight. As we all know (and by "we" I mean that gym instructor who told me I was in fact, 1kg obese), I need to lose this weight. It took me a lot of psychological trickery just to convince myself that I NEEDED to lose weight. I've always justified my drastic weight gain, made excuses, talked myself and everyone around me into accepting that I LIKED being fat, and that I didn't need anyone telling me I was obese. (I'm talking to you, gym instructor.) This isn't a success story. I'm just gonna share how I got started, in the hopes that I have a reader here who needs the same push to get on that weight-loss bandwagon and share / suffer this journey with me. Technique #1: KEEP YOUR EYE ON THE GOAL. "This will be me in a hundred years." Before I even started thinking about diet and exercise, I had to...

Yeah, babe. You're crushing my legs. My sister J is a skinny-ass bitch. She is 5'2" and weighs a little over 80 pounds. Now multiply all that by 10. That's me. I'm like the United States of America, and she is Mexico. Ok, fine, I am the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and she is Ferdania . You get my drift. J might be skinny, but the girl can eat. I'm telling you, there's a fat girl inside that one. She has all the aches and pains of a fat girl (yes, I would know). She is all about food. After each of her (6 huge) meals everyday, all she can think about is the next meal. We can't go anywhere without her grilling me about what food is available in that place. She's constantly worried about meals. Because of this strange phenomenon, we have come to the conclusion that I am, in fact, the healthier sister. I make better food choices, and I control her sugar intake. We have also come to the conclusion that I am very controlling. I will now resist the urge to mak...

When they said that Band-Aid s could fix anything, I didn't really believe it. Early this year, (a few months after I bought my laptop Olaf), I dropped my phone charger on it and the thin layer glossed over it acquired a tiny crack. Over time, the crack got bigger. I resisted the urge to put a sticker over it, mainly because the reason I loved Olaf so much was how minimalist and white it was. Anything would've distracted from this. Besides, there isn't a sticker cool enough to be on the cover of Olaf. (Yes, I mother it to death.) However, it really got worse. I had to do something. The solution? A nice kiddie adhesive bandage that I can remove anytime (in the event that I get tired of looking at it) without causing the crack to expand. Yes, Band-Aid AND Snoopy are always the best solutions. *** You know how sometimes you say the stupidest thing, and you realize that AS SOON AS YOU SAY IT, at that exact moment when you just can't take it back? Man, I hate that feeling. ...

While I don't celebrate Christmas, some of my closest friends do, and I always find myself excited for them this time of the year. This year's Christmas presents were less materialistic and yet more generous. I spent a whole morning with Marj at the salon having hair done, after which she looked AMAZING. We all know what it's like to go to a hairstylist, that feeling of resignation that we mistake for trust. Somehow, those feelings are gone when you have a friend with you, communicating with the hairstylist on your behalf. I don't know what it is about that salon chair that paralyzes you and makes you lose your ability to speak up. But having female-friend support definitely helps. Today, I was that support. Marj just saved me some Christmas shopping. As I did her. My present was her Nikon zoom lens. No, she didn't give it to me, and I wouldn't have taken it (ok, I lie, I would've definitely taken it), but we have exchanged lenses, and so far, I have taken a...

So. The pot of gold? The true measure of a smart, sexy, single superwoman's strength lies in the way she recovers the morning after attending a good friend's beautiful wedding. This woman, with the S on her chest, suddenly finds herself in the middle of a nice little pop quiz. 1. When will my turn come around? 2. What does every other woman getting married have that I don't? 3. Will anyone want me enough to ask me to get married? 4. OMFG, how old am I again? I'm 5 years older than the bride! 5. How come I don't deserve that kind of happiness? 6. Is it really marriage that I want, or just the wedding? 7. Couldn't I have both, like everyone else? 8. But WTF is wrong with me? I have good friends, I have a family that adores me, I have everything I need, couldn't I just shut up and be happy? 9. Did I wear the wrong shoes? Again? And because it is a pop quiz, it is answered very quickly, without much thought, and shoved aside as the ceremony continues on to that ...

If there's one thing I like more than French fries, it's frozen chocolate milkshake. Even more than that, though, I like it when I manage to fix my own problems. All by myself. Of course, it's always so much easier to just throw a fit and make life hell for the next customer service representative, but when the problem is solved without resorting to threatening people's lives, why, it's just exhilarating, that feeling of accomplishment. Like sneaking into a VIP bathroom and having a nice pee where you're not supposed to. I mean, what? Cough. So my problem involved my laptop Count Olaf, pictured here: (Background design by the beyond-awesome Ghaida'a Zahran ) Don't mind the mini Snickers that I didn't steal from a friend's candy basket. I mean, what? Cough. Anyway, so The Laptop With The Awesome Name went (and stayed!) mute for the longest time. I couldn't hear any sound at all, nothing from my videos or music, and not even the default sounds....