STORIES, STORIES

-- Break Time 

My long-time friend and podcast co-pilot Sally is getting married! *insert ululations * We had a little iftar with her before she leaves (she's getting married abroad), the only thing I could manage at such short notice. There were tears. I'm hoping for more proper celebrations, where I can wish her properly, and take real pictures of the beautiful bride (and her beautiful groom). <3

I wear my glasses ironically. Love me.

I FINALLY FINISHED THIS BOOK. What a tool. It took me a month and a week.  I didn't know who David Niven was until I read this book. Apparently, he was some big-time actor in the 60s. I got this book from Matt (who gave me a whole box of books), and I felt obliged to read it. It wasn't bad for an autobiography, to be honest. It was funny and witty, etc, but most of the time, it read like a drawn-out Wikipedia article. The only thing is that I can't read an autobiography of a person I'm not interested in. It was such a task just to get through 3 pages. Niven has a habit of name-dropping, which didn't work on me because I just didn't know any of the people he name-dropped, aside from Fred Astaire and Frank Sinatra.  This book proves that there are just some stories that you might think are interesting, but are really not. That's the problem with autobiographies. It's like when someone tells you a very long story about their dream the night before, and ...

I meant Friday's, the restaurant. (Why is it called Thank God It's Friday's? Isn't the grammar a bit.. off?) Had a nice iftar with friends after finally getting off work.  Eggplant stuffs. I was forcing Suhail to do the Dean Winchester face the whole evening. He wouldn't do it seriously. Oh, and hottie Ian is back at Friday's. ;)

I haven't finished a book in 2 months, so I figured I needed a little shove or encouragement. These awesome bookmarks did the job well. They're like hair clips for books. I'm a dog-ear kind of bookmarker, but since I got these, I haven't defaced the book I'm currently reading, PLUS, I got to read a hundred pages in less than 2 days. U jelly, motivators?

This is the gas station near work , during the day.

This is the gas station near work. 

On my way to McDonald's from the gym (DON'T JUDGE ME), I spotted these two siblings bent over a PSP, playing a football video game. They are the boys who sell kitchen towels, 5 pieces for SR 10, to cars passing by, at traffic lights, at parking lots, at fast food drive-thrus.

I had a pretty awesome experience in high school. I was moderately popular, I played sports, had good grades, the works.  Now I know why I had it going so good back then. Because high school would come back in my 20s to fuck my life. Hard. Now, I'm far from being a proper nerd or geek, but I am constantly being made to feel like one, by the people around me. And not in the nice way that the internet does.  I love meeting nerds and geeks. They're not very judgmental; if there's anything I don't understand, they are always willing to "enlighten" me in the ways of The Geek. They understand the concept of "overdoing" something, being obsessed with all the details of something you're interested in. I don't get accused of having bad taste in movies or music, and I am not told I am strange or weird, or worse, drunk or high on something (I'm usually not). I don't have to rein in my interests in the presence of true nerds and geeks, even w...

The title of this blog post comes from this here song which was playing in my head while I was taking pictures. Here are some photos I took of our neighborhood. -- Hani

There's this cafe next to Le Notre and Benihana on Tahlia called Paul. It's a fancypants pretty, French place with difficult-to-pronounce menu items and nice, wide tables optimal for board games. Therefore, we like it. I didn't, however, like the manager-looking dude in a suit called George, because he's a dickface who doesn't know what Customer Service means.  We went as a group of about 15 people, and we asked the waiters to give us separate bills. After we had all paid, there was some confusion with an unpaid bill, and nobody was sure who owed it. A normal restaurant employee would try to figure out who hadn't paid their bill and get things in order. George Dickface instead made a loud-enough-for-all-of-us-to-hear comment about how "THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU ASK FOR SEPARATE BILLS." Ohhhh, y3ni it's OUR FAULT. It's OUR fault that you guys said YES to separate bills and couldn't actually DO IT?  Well, FUCK YOU GEORGE. You're inc...

It wasn't until I challenged myself this month to get off sugar that I discovered how much INTO sugar I was. I can't stop drinking this shit. Each cup tastes like sugar was shoveled in. And then there's all the candy bars and Oreos I keep consuming (and suddenly crave!). The only thing that I succeeded in cutting out was soda. But I guess that's because I'm kept occupied by other forms of the devil sugar. -- I've finally gotten myself a new pair of sunglasses. It's almost an annual thing, this purchase. I might as well make it a tradition. Here's a photo that Dee took. 

Spotted: A company that brings you the best ex-girlfriend / ex-boyfriend / ex-husband / ex-wife in the nation.Whaaattttuuup!

Balls. I don't have them. I've been thinking of getting my hair colored purple, like proper eggplant shade, for the past couple months, but I can't find the balls to do it. I stay in my comfort zone of Slightly Demure But Slutty Red. I'll check in again in 2 months and see if I'll have grown a pair to actually color my hair purple.

I took a break from my Supernatural fangirl-ism to spend a few hours with real-life Dean Winchester : the devastatingly handsome Hamza, who came to Jeddah for a visit. I can't believe it's been 2 years since the last time we hung out; when I saw him again after all that time, it was like an uninterrupted (and quite nasty, as is our wont) conversation was picked up where we left it off.  Friendships like these are to be treasured, and I can't wait for the day when we're all old and I can tell his children and grandchildren stories of how messed-up their grand father used to be when we were all in our 20s.  - End Rave - I mean, I love you and all, Hamza, and you are a beautiful man, but I'd still pick Dean Winchester over you any day. You understand.

I would argue some form of semantics in the phrase "self checkout" (e.g. checking out oneself), but that would only prove how foreveralone I am.  Instead, I'll say something about how in Ramadan, it's so 3ady  to be out and about at 1:30am thinking "THE NIGHT IS YOUNG" and then go grocery shopping. Here is Danube's new self checkout counter, where cashiers stand around doing all the work anyway, proving how pointless this all is. Still, awesome.

The regular rounds of fatoor and sahoor in restaurants.  Clocking in some troll-time before imsak. -- Hours later, iftar.

So it's no secret the crush I'm nursing on the least possible person in the world I would ever have a crush on (for many, many reasons), so I might as well talk about it.  This is Dean Winchester, a few nuggets short of a happy meal, thinks he's ALL THAT, and like, completely hot. (Yes, I'm on the 3rd season of Supernatural, and I'm beginning to think that this show is made of pure genius, mainly because it's so meta.) Anyway, so what happens is this: I go to work, and then I talk nonstop about Dean Winchester. As a "STFU" present from Sara Grace, she drew me a picture of Dean. I love it.

Nothing says overshare more than a blog post of clothes. Well, except for bathroom pictures of yourself doing the duck face. Which I will do eventually. In the meantime, here's Mohammad's shirt. It made me LOL. -- My one-year-old sneakers finally gave. It served me well; I practically lived in these shoes. It will probably continue to serve me until I get a new pair of white sneaks.