STORIES, STORIES

I honestly didn't think I'd get so quickly to the point in my life when my friends and I would have grown-up lunches to share good news and announcements. While that makes me feel old, I also didn't expect to actually ENJOY being this grown-up. Having said that, BRB, mom's calling. 

Suzann, who quite possibly makes up 98% of this blog's audience (the other 2% being myself), is home for the holidays. She did what any person coming home would do: go on a food frenzy. Food we take for granted here because we have them everyday. -- And, of course, friends and family. -- Fa la la la la and all that bossa nova.

I know this is like the most unappetizing picture EVAR FOREVAR (sorry!!), but one of my mom's students made this Filipino spaghetti and it's yummy. I promise. 

Workout > thousands of calories burned > thousands of calories earned > burger. For my hard-earned calories, no to McDonald's, YES TO FUDDRUCKERS. 

The new American Corner on Sultan Street is nice because you have more chances of getting a seat. And the waiters aren't as sourface-y as the ones in Khalediya.  -- BUT. American Corner is really only good for breakfasts. Nothing else.

Look what I had for lunch the other day: I repeat: a cheese sandwich and a banana. I have decided to become healthy and vegetarian, and to change my whole diet and lifestyle.  Hahaha I LIE SO MUCH. The sentence above holds no truth. Mere minutes after I ate this lunch, I ordered a pizza.  I have, however, just started monitoring my food and calorie-intake with MyFitnessPal , and it's awesome. I like to track just about anything I do, and this website just does everything for me. Weight loss is just as much psychological as it is physical, so if you're like me, you need to do all kinds of shit to trick yourself into losing weight and just generally being healthy. If you're in a weight-loss rut, and you take advice from an unhealthy blogger, go try this website!

On the heels of my previous post , I went to the other  Filipino market, the one on Khalediah, with Marj and her husband for a Filipino-food trip. If you're wondering what Filipino food is like, here's a tip. You know all that stuff we call Chinese food here in Jeddah? THAT is Filipino food.  Here's Filipino fast food: JOLLIBEE!!  -- We went to a restaurant behind the Khalediah market. It's called Wajbah and it's all Pinoy. Funny enough, I only saw ONE Filipino waiter here! The others were non-Filipino. This dish is called Sinigang na Baka , I think, and I really don't know what it is in English. (Marj, help?) -- And this one is so yummy but I don't know what it's called either. It's mini spring rolls minus vegetables, served with chili and sweet chili sauce. I had trololoads of fun. We three trolled each other. Just like the good old university days. <3

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. ;)

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...

Bufala is the name of my future second child. Of course it goes without saying that my future first-born will be named Ubuntu. But I digress.  Bufala is also yummeh. Another one for our Shit We Ate series. This is a dish from Margherita which is called Something Something Bufala. I recommend it. And now, here's an episode from That Jeddah Podcast, which you should listen to just to get a hint of what I sound like when I speak British. CLICK HERE NAO .

I missed Souma's Whovian birthday! Who else would have a TARDIS for a birthday cake? (Hehe, 'Who' else!) To make up for it, I asked to see her face Thursday morning, also so I could give her a birthday present .  Ya gotta love nerds. I got to share a mellow breakfast with Omair , too, and I can't say I didn't enjoy it. I didn't take a photo of him; he had a "I'm a nerd" shirt on, and that's not the kind of thing I like to advertise. :P  Oh, yes. We ate shit. And this is the shit we ate, for my growing collection .

Something to remember when eating at a Chinese place (at least this one): Order to share. No matter how hungry you think you are, you will never have a girlfriend be able to finish one order all by your lonesome. -- Here be Shrimp Balls. They're like mantu , but jazzier. -- I can eat mixed fried rice with no need of accompaniment. -- And now, the grossly requisite Shit We Ate photo.

Who was it that said "the cure to depression is to get up, dress up, show up"?  We all get depressed for a multitude of reasons: petty stuff, first-world-problem whining, life-changing problems, heartbreak, whatever. Correct me if I'm wrong, but we girls, our first solution to this is to shut ourselves off from everyone, stay in bed all day, feel sorry for ourselves, mope, sulk, play sad, sad, sad songs to aid us in the tragedy of our dramas, and bask in the glory of self-pity. I don't make light of it, because depression isn't funny right when you're in the middle of it. But on many occasions, getting up, dressing up, and just showing up somewhere has helped. So try it.  Even if it's just down the street (kinda).  So why does this sign say this? It IS obviously for display. I scratch my head in mild confusion.  --- Summer took this shot after I forced her to try my camera. I love it because IT LOOKS LIKE MY HANDS HAVE LOST WEIGHT, EH? EH? 10 Point...

Thanks to my environmentally-friendly friends who joined me for an episode over at That Jeddah Podcast , I had a craving for some nice, yummy pizza that is not Pizza Hut.  Pizza Fusion it is. Good Shit I Ate. Also, don't forget to listen to the podcast, subscribe, and tell your friends! 

This birthday-filled weekend. Was nuts. We had Sally's birthday lunch over at Chez Siran  where food was yummeh. I took my 50mm out to play after I found it hidden in the deep, dark recesses of my bookshelves (haha I thought I had lost them), and it was a nice change of lens. So, here. I start with a Shit We Ate  photo. Or more appropriately, Shit I Was About To Eat. (And Then Ate.) And a happy birthday to Sally ! I thought it was just me and my stupid girly hormones, but it turned out we were ALL feeling a bit nail-polishy that day. I have more pictures of this day, but I interrupt this regular program to plug the new episode of THAT JEDDAH PODCAST . Also, here's the fan page for your Liking needs. Like us, please. *whimper*

It's Friday, last day of the weekend. On Fridays, I like to make a point of phoning friends and family, or sending text messages or emails, especially with the ones I don't see or talk to often. I don't think we realize how much these things are appreciated, to be asked how we're doing, to be checked up on by the people close to us. But I also dislike Fridays. It's on this day that I hate living in Jeddah. I get the feeling that I could be doing so much more, that I could be a thousand times better as a person than I am now, that I could be meeting people and living life instead of watching or reading about it being lived  elsewhere. I have to put so much effort on very small things and only achieve very little. And it's exhausting. Running as fast you can just to stay in the same spot. Most Fridays, I question the decisions I've made; I question the purpose of everything, of this blog, of my efforts, of all the things I do, and I wonder if there's a...

A few days ago, I was telling my brother about my day. Me: "OMG, you would never believe what happened today. I was--" My brother: "Yes, please, tell me, BECAUSE I CARE." Today, at Bin Dawood supermarket, at the candy aisle. My brother: "You know how there's this candy that makes you think of--" Me: "You know how I DON'T CARE?" The never-ending battle of wits between me and my brothers. - And now, for another Shit We Eat photo. Copyright.

If you want to pee your pants mildly (from laughing presumably), here's a blog post to assist you in this noble activity, written by the marra katkoota Daedul . In other news, I want to start a new segment in this blog called "Shit We Eat". Because life is short, and we have to record each moment. And overshare. Send me pictures of shit you eat at diana.blogger@gmail.com. GO!! P.S. If you literally eat shit, send your pictures to iwillbeatyouup@gmail.com.