Random Personal CEPAL Notes

.1. As I was seated in my car early last evening, Bruce started singing ‘Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town’ (not a minute too soon). I rocked out in the car (alone), and thought: It’s official; Holiday season is here.

.2. While in the movie store two nights ago, I turned to walk down one of the aisles and was met with whom I can only describe as the living, breathing (& residing in Ottawa) horror from Ringu. Only it was a child, a small girl I believe.

We stood there staring at each other, I completely transfixed by her resemblance to that thing from the movie. Uncertain as to whether I should run away crying or screaming, I opted to keep an eye on her as I backed away and made a mess of the Comedy section DVDs.

I ran and hid in the Children’s section and stood paralyzed, staring at her from between the shelves, exhaling only when her mother dragged her out of the store and stuck her in the car.

.3. I don’t understand why Bush had to come here.

Don’t they have phones in the USA? Haven’t they heard of MSN Messenger? Doesn’t his mobile text message?

There are many ways for him to have communicated with Pauly, and it would have saved us millions of Canadian dollars (because, like, we don’t have any poor people to house), kept our air space and roads open, and given the snipers a day off.

Dim-witted, these politicians.

.4. Daddy and I went to a wonderful CEPAL event last night, which we almost missed. Had I paid attention to my father’s concerns (really; there are no concerns but my own), he would have had me turn the car around and not even attempt to head to Parliament Hill.

Note to you: If ever you are in disagreement with another’s point of view, simply shut up, nod and (ultimately) do as you please. Things usually find a way of working themselves out…Even if those in front of you are not pleased…They will be, I promise.

Night was filled with the friendly faces of people I had not seen in ages, and it was an absolute treat to be surrounded by them.

What was more of a treat, though, was that my poppy purchased this beautiful amber necklace for me (that is nearly four generations old and from Eastern Europe).

Note to self: This is most likely a lie and the necklace actually purchased at the gas corner store two weekends ago.

Note to self 2: Keep this lie alive for it sounds much more interesting during dinner conversation.
Unfortunately, my baba also purchased this gigantic female “Pheronic” head. It’s not slightly large, but rather seriously and troublingly large.

Before he decided to purchase this Egyptian treasure, the following conversation was had by us:

Maha: “Dad. Why are you looking at that?”
Dad: ”I’m putting a bid in on it.”
Apricot: “Really?”
Apricot’s poppy: “Yes.”
::Silence::
Moi: “Really?”
::Daddy laughs heartily::
I: “Am I going to inherit that some day?”
::Silence::

He made me walk home.

Thing is, this “Pheronic” head has a beautiful profile with an enormous Alien-a-la-Sigourney-Weaver cranium, and I believe the only option I have is to rub its head for good luck whenever I see it. Make a wish. Hope the gigantic cranium reacts.

Note to self: If necessary, can always cut out a hole in the wall – one to match the size of her extended cranium -- push cranium into hole and only allow the profile to peek out.

Note to you: I do promise to take a photo of the gigantic “Pheronic” head and post it because it really is that disturbing.

Note to you 2: My dad didn’t make me walk home. He tried, but it was my car.

Note to you 3: Seriously. He didn’t try to take my car. He just tried to weigh me down with the gigantic cranium and push me off the bridge.

NO! Am kidding. Love my dad. He spoils me. Kisses, ya baba.

Personal Holiday Notes

.1. Am really starting to get into the holiday spirit (though not entirely my holiday, and it’s not even started snowing and Bruce Springsteen has yet to sing me ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’) and so have satiated my desires by sending out the first batch of holiday cards.

I have written the exact same thing in all of the cards and I do hope no one visits anyone and reads the others’ cards, for they will notice and I will be somewhat screwed.

If I don’t know you and you would like one such card, just e-mail me and I will oblige to the best of my ability. What’s the use of good cheer if one can not pass it around?

.2. I am starting my own tradition this year; I will be having the girls over for the first ever Holiday Dinner Party this coming Saturday evening and for which I will be preparing for days in advance. I am going all out and will be presenting the following 8 course meal to women who have been near and dear to me for an approximate decade, if not longer:

- Three different dips with some fresh and warm baguette, thinly sliced so they do not gorge themselves on this first course;
- Arugula, pear & asiago cheese salad with some kind of tangy dressing so as to ensure they do not think this McDonald’s where limp iceberg lettuce leads the way;
- Cream of red bell pepper soup, warm not chilled and very red so as to match my rouge;
- Shrimp cocktail, because shrimps are an added delight to any dinner party and you can play with them like puppets and make them walk and talk while no one is looking;
- Linguine pasta, because I love linguine pasta and this particular menu item has absolutely nothing to do with my guests;
- Lemon sorbet, which I will actually make at home and from scratch;
- Beef tenderloin, because the word ‘tenderloin’ makes me giggle; and,
- Ice cream, because I can.

Note to self: Hope I do not singe brows.

To remain in the festive spirit, I will play Ella and light tons of candles that smell like cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla and apple.

If I do not blog post the 4th of December it is only because I have burnt my house down and likely my baby mac as well.

.3. Engelbert Humperdinck was a once terribly attractive man (but no Tamer Hagras) and so I can envision how women thought he a sexpot. Has an odd resemblance to Olivier Martinez, who for all his glory, is apparently a mere 5’1”.

Sad though that Engelbert now has a Las Vegas look about him, no doubt Elvis’ friend at one point in time.

Well, ok. Olivier Martinez isn’t really that short, but it would have been fun to think so.

.4. Another way by which I will be celebrating this holiday is by surprising my mum and taking her to the theatre (Surprise!). We will be seeing The Nutcracker Ballet on Thursday evening, and she is so excited and that makes me doubly happy.

.5. I have found a professional cellist who is also a teacher (much thanks to D, who is studying violin) and have sent him an e-mail, requesting information as to whether or not he has room available for a new student come the new year.

Note to self: Am on my way to becoming a world-famous cellist in brilliant sparkly heels, whom Tamer Hagras will not be able to resist.

Personal Friend Notes (Part 1)

.1. As I was driving home, I noticed a sweet old man walking down the street. Thing was, he was wearing a bicycle helmet, but had no bicycle; perhaps he was worried about toppling over and hurting his head?

I had a friend in university who, when she drank, she got ‘top heavy’ and fell over. She didn’t have to be in motion to do so, she would simply fall over.

One time while we were standing chatting, I with my ice tea and her with her gin & tonic, she fell over. It’s not that she has an abnormally large head or anything…she just loses all balance when she drinks. It’s kind of charming.

.2. I have another friend who, when in agreement with what you say responds with “Word”, said not in a Snoop Dog manner, but in a Martha-Stewart-matter-of-fact manner. My girlfriend of 17 years married him and has since procreated with him; am convinced he charmed her with this unique language.

He's really white. Almost see-through. Word.

.3. On this Saturday evening past, I had about an hour to relax before meeting my friends for dinner and so decided to grab a hot apple cider and head to my favorite spot in Ottawa, the high point behind the National Gallery. I was lucky and had the entire spot to myself, and so I sat on the stone foundation of the statue and breathed in the view and the absolutely crisp and freezing air. It was nothing short of exquisite watching Ottawa breathe with me.

Eventually, the stone froze my bum and I had to leave.

.4. Don’t try to change any of the menu items at Mamma Grazzi’s unless you want the cooks to either yell at you, yell at your server or quietly attempt to assassinate you.

.5.Terence Trent D’Arby + Philosopher Kings = Maroon 5. Get the CD, it’s fantastic.

I made it cry

I met a very happy and fat little baby this morning, the offspring of a colleague. I played with it a little and made it coo and laugh and giggle. Then I kissed the palm of its hand.

Approximately 6 seconds after this fatal kiss, the offspring began to wail and scream and stare at me as though I were Satan reincarnate. The colleague checked diapers, tried to give it food and even bounced it up and down (because offspring like to be bounced; A great name for a band, the 'Bouncing Offspring').

Perplexed, I walked away wondering whether this was a sign that I should not procreate and have offspring of my own, until I remembered what kind of lip-gloss I use...Du-Wop Lip Venom, gloss that heats the surface of anything it touches.

Having realised the kind of evil I unleashed on the offspring, I quietly took a tissue and soaked it in water, then went back and said to my colleague "Maybe she just needs to cool down" and I wiped her fat little offspring hands with the water-soaked tissue. She stopped crying, but am pretty sure she still hates me, this offspring.

Colin Farrell and Virtue

.1. Saw Colin Farrell on the Ellen show today and I was rather impressed with how many a buttons a man can keep undone, yet remain mysteriously appealing. Colin must have only had two buttons done up and it was acceptable; flat chest and no beer gut most likely due to the diuretics taken the evening prior.

Watching him, I couldn’t help but think that he – in all his sleaziness – would be someone who would make a worthwhile friend. So long as it was clear that there was only friendship to be had between you (being female) and a man such as Colin, men like him usually end up being the most loyal and protective of you.

A few evenings ago, D and I were discussing this ‘gentleman’s code’ that seems to be maintained by men of Farrell’s calibre (though Farrell was not the man in question at the time). I’ve not given it much thought, but I think it is rooted in collapsing the essence of a woman’s virtue with her sexuality; when they keep those two separate, they apply that gentleman’s code to you, but the second the two are brought together as one, that code no longer applies.

Haven’t fleshed this out entirely, but I’ll think about it and get back to you eventually…maybe.

.2. Ever wonder why you keep certain people in your life? The ones who cause you more grief than good, the ones who keep you waiting, and second guessing your actions, the ones who make uncompleted promises, can’t offer unconditional friendship and can’t support you when you need it most?

Well, today’s the day you should stop wondering and start packing them in bubble wrap and sending them away until they stop being some sort of a$$hole. They may find a way out of the bubble wrap, so make certain to pour in some peanuts just in case. If they make it out of both, then maybe they deserve another go. Consider it a form of ‘house cleaning’.

.3. I spoke with R today, on his way back to Montreal and from the Coalition Against the Deportation of Palestinian Refugees rally here in Ottawa earlier today. Ahmad is being deported tomorrow morning and I’ve never heard R so resigned. He was going back to Montreal to visit Ahmad during the allotted visiting hours (between 7 and 9), and it’s so terribly twisted that we’re keeping these men in prisons like they’re some kind of criminal when all they want is to come here and make an honest and good life for themselves, their families both present and future. Rather than opening our arms and embracing them, we lock them up and ship them back to a living, breathing prison.

Listening to R’s voice made me sad. He’s never sounded so exhausted before and I couldn’t help but cry when I got off the phone with him. I don’t know why, but I did, and I think it’s because I sensed the complete disillusionment in the one person I go to for strength.

Personal Kindness Notes

.1. Once again, I find myself seated at my second favorite Bridgehead location, the one in Westboro Village, down the street from both my father’s apartment as well as T & R’s little home. The best thing about Bridgehead is they have a ton of outlets (plug ins?) all over the shop so that you can plug in your laptop and type away.

Have made the mistake of forgetting my earphones and so can’t listen to what I have staring at me; Aerosmith’s Greatest Hits looks terribly disgruntled to be a mere table top piece at the moment, pissed that it has been trumped by some brilliant Indian remixes playing overhead.

.2. Have had another whirlwind day today, and my body’s actually aching but I can’t seem to commit myself to going home and doing nothing….Why? Because Dr. Phil would call me a loser.

.3. A few days back, I happened to stumble on to Dr. Phil, who I’ve always avoided listening to because every time I see him, his fat little fingers are judgmentally pointing at the person in front of him. As I was attempting to escape from the hell of his making, I accidentally hit the Guide button on my remote control rather than the Next button and so was left with enough time to hear him say: “You are a loser”.

I was seated in my apartment alone and feared that Dr. Phil was looking into my living room. Paralyzed, I was left looking over both my left and right shoulders to confirm that I was in fact alone (I was, damn it). Left with no choice, I had to confirm that the Dr. wasn’t speaking to me.

Dr. Phil said (and please pay close attention): “There are two kinds of people in this world, Tom. There are the winners and there are the losers. Do you know what separates a Winner from a Loser, Tom?”

Camera pans to Tom, who is staring at his savior and in a state of near hysteria. Tom is going to cry because Dr. Phil just called him a Loser (the only thing missing was for Dr. Phil to make the gigantic ‘L’ sign on his forehead and in tandem point at Tom, and then break into his own rendition of “Show me the money!”) on national television.

Dr. Phil continued to wag his fat finger at Tom and finally said: “Winners DO, Tom.”

Tom fell to the floor, started wailing and slobbering while the camera panned over the audience who was all nodding in agreement, silently judging Tom the Loser.

Note to you: Tom did no such thing.

Note to you 2: Wouldn’t you want to break Dr. Phil’s finger if he did that to you? Mind you, if you’re psychotic enough to go on his show and air your dirty laundry, you may just be a Loser.

And the moral of this particular Random Note is that you should DO or else you’re a Loser, and so I have been DOING all over the place.

.4. There are those of us who DO and remain to be Losers; The woman who was doing all of Congress and then blogging about it, is one such prime example (her name escapes me, and I am not interested in getting sued).

.5. This morning, I was asked what sport I would like to take up, given the choice of all sports. I chose surfing because I am drawn to the water and there’s something about the culture of surfing that puts me at ease and makes me happy. Frankly, I haven’t met a surfer I didn’t love.

Point Break taught me that.

What’s the problem with this choice? I live in Ottawa and the only surfers I know don’t live in Ottawa. Besides, there are no ‘Learn How to Surf in the Privacy of Your Own Living Room’ videos.

Sometimes, it’s hard to have this kind of imagination.

.6. The man seated next to me looks like Charlotte’s Jewish husband who walks around naked and drops tea bags all over the apartment. Am kind of thrown by this man, though I adored Charlotte’s husband.

Note to you: Watch ‘Sex and the City’.

.7. I have always been drawn to the cello and have been flirting with the idea of taking cello lessons.

So as to escape the title of Loser from Dr. Phil, I am going to do my dandiest to start cello lessons in January.

Note to self: Shall become a brilliant cellist who wears killer heels as she plays the cello (because the cello was made to accentuate a woman’s heels) and Tamer Hagras will not be able to live without me, and so will call my father and 2ukhtubni. I will only be allowed to play cello for him. In heels.

.8. Immediately after I left you yesterday, I dropped into the fiction section of Chapter’s to see if they carried any of Winterson’s books (that I didn’t hold). Considering that I still had Lighthouse Keeping unopened, I wasn’t certain that I wanted to purchase another, but I did, because I am some kind of book monster at heart.

I picked her up and went down to the counter, and noticed two guys in red shirts giving people massages. Note: This is Chapter’s, not a spa.

When I was up to pay for Winterson, I asked the girl at the cash what was happening, and her response was: “They work here”, which struck me as odd, because they were massaging people…neither reading to them, nor dog-earing their books.

Needless to say, one of the young men giving the massage noticed the look of confusion on my face and asked if I wanted a massage (a sure-fire way to remove said look of confusion, no doubt).

I declined and asked him what he was doing and why, when I noticed what was written on the back of his t-shirt.

They were the Extreme Kindness crew, and a couple of years back these boys traveled all across Canada and committed random acts of kindness (my favorite being their random act of kindness in Montreal, because they all have Enrique Iglesias bodies). Their thing is to pay it forward, to make someone’s day, causing a chain reaction of random acts of kindness.

They’re brilliant. And they’re super hot and I can guarantee that they wouldn’t get away with half of what they did if they didn’t look like rock stars and/or extreme athletes. Check out their site (which needs to be updated severely) and read about them, they’ve got something good to say and something each of us should carry with us daily.

I chatted with Val, who told me I had a dynamic personality. That was his random act of kindness for Saturday.

Note to Val: Start that blog, already. I’ll link to you.

If you are a senior executive at Tim Horton’s, contact these boys and do a commercial with them; they represent what we hope is the Canadian spirit, and their little videos show us just how happy they are to be Canadian.

But if you are Tim Horton’s, keep your involvement in their affairs minimal and keep your grubby corporate hands in your own pockets; these boys do good, and should be left to do their own thing…with maximum sponsorship and minimal infringement and coercion from a corporation.

Same to the ‘I Am Canadian’ crew; These boys are the Canadian dream come true.

I have decided to link to them, because they’re on the right side.

Personal I Like Tall Men Notes

.1. Yesterday evening was a planned ‘writing’ evening. After the 20 hours of hell that I endured, I decided that I would pack up my PowerBook, head over to Bridgehead and spend some alone time reading and writing.

As I was placing my order, I noticed that one of our family friends, Sami, was also there and so we ended up talking literature and culture for two hours.

Later, I also saw a once dear friend, Steve, whom I had not seen since we did our M.A.s together.

It was one of those ‘Out of the Blue’ evenings that usually land you in either jail, a headlock, or in good humor. Luckily for me and my hair, my evening ended in the latter.

.2. I have no concept of time. None. It’s kind of funny; I say things like “…didn’t we do that 18 years ago…” and folks will respond with “…that’s impossible, we only met less than three months ago…”

Hate watches, and never wear one and so this may be the cause of Maha induced time angst I cause for those around me.

.3. Am currently seated at Chapters trying to jot down all of the stories that reside in my head and that have been screaming to be let out. Have resigned myself to knowing that the best thing for me to do would be to let everyone out at once, and then see which of them play well together and which ones have already developed their own stories and are not in need of other friends. Oddly enough, some of them keep trying to run away and hide behind the bookshelves around me, but I’m quick and none have managed to disappear for too long, yet.

.4. Have had an all too exhausting morning once again…but one riddled with the most unique characters – which, I guess, is really who we each are. I will indulge and tell you about only one.

I had to go to Costco to get the tires on my car changed. While in line (for the duration of 1.5 hours), I was harassed the entire time by an all too chatty gentleman who could not have been a day less than 65. I made the mistake of taking my jacket off, and my t-shirt read: Miss B. Haven and because he was so witty and so charming and so on the ball, he decided to start up a conversation with the following gem: “This morning, I was looking for my t-shirt that says ‘Where’s the party?’” har har har (a line made popular by Madonna when she was still normal in the 80s).

I try to be a gentle and patient soul with retards, and so I smiled and said “That’s funny”. Unfortunately, that was all he needed and so he motored through the next hour and a half without coming up for air. See what God does when I call people retards?

Luckily, there was a lot of noise overhead and so although I kept nodding and smiling and throwing in the occasional “really?” and “wow”, and of course “ha ha”, I couldn’t hear what he was saying 87% of the time.

Let me tell you, he was no Tamer Hagras.

Note to Tamer: It’s now a running joke that my non-Arab speaking Canadian girlfriends will be forced to sit through your films .

Note to self: Oh my god, have just had a terribly thought; What if Tamer Hagras is already married? Curse the black day.

Note to self 2: Rent El-Hag Mitwali and take notes on how to be a durra. Am most certain that if he is already married, his first wife will love me and she will invite me down to her apartment everyday for morning ahwa.

.5. I have almost come to a decision about which cars are the best rides. Having driven my friend’s BMW, I thought that was the smoothest, until I drove my father’s Mercedes, which kicks BMW ass on any and all levels. It’s just an engineering masterpiece, really. BUT, I am forced to say that my uncle has a little car called a Porsche, which I am supposed to take out for a spin; my feeling is that driving the Porsche will leave me in the ‘Mercedes is ok’ realm of drivers.

All this with the footnote that I remain a Harley Davidson Fat Boy girl at heart. I would take one of those over any of the above any day; unfortunately, not a very popular item in my community, though my cousin has a Ninja…but it’s just not near the same as a Harley. Never. Ever.

As for cars, I just really dig the Jag. The older XJS still turns me on.

.6. I have made a new friend; one who is studying at Concordia and who is a Canadian All-Star football player. We have a deal: He is to teach me about football (with the promise that I will be a true football connoisseur when he’s done with me) and I am to teach him about Middle Eastern politics, Palestinian in particular.

.7. I have been thinking about the attraction to men who are tall; I think it really quite simple and it goes to the root of the hunter / gatherer theory which so many women don’t like (but I do). The bottom line is that tall men are men whom one can stand behind and use as a form of covering wall in times of imminent danger. They also have longer reach and so can hold shorter people at bay by placing their hands on shorter peoples’ foreheads.

Note to self: This will come in handy if ever am faced with an unruly dwarf.

They are ideal pieces of protection, and they can pick you up with one finger and toss you around if need be, in order to protect you.

Note to self: Practice landing gracefully in preparation for when am tossed, for my own protection, and asap.

.8. I went shopping today. At Holt Renfrew. Because I am a sucker. (But I have my black heels back, so technically, it is ok that I went there. Besides, their Manager for Customer Direction called me from Toronto and so I can not, in good faith, keep them in my bad books.)

.9. It’s snowing outside and it’s warm and beautiful.

.10. Often times, as I type, I laugh out loud (because the voices in my head are just that funny).

Note to self: Thank god have nice hair and wear the perfect shade of rouge, or else folks would have chalked me up to a loon not worthy of coffee shop seating.

Note to you: If you drive a motorcycle, have a tattoo and are above 6”, please call my poppy and 2ukhtubni.

Innocence & eyeballs

.1. Had an unexpected and (as always) wonderful evening with Heidi last night, which no matter what the topic always found itself back to Heidi banging her fists down on the kitchen table and saying “I hate the patriarchy”, while smiling that devastating smile of hers.

.2. Unfortunately, the rest of my evening…well, more like from 2:00 a.m. until 10:00 a.m….took a turn for the worse. I have not had any sleep because of certain circumstances that were completely beyond my control and am physically exhausted. Although all is well now and everyone home and safe, I still can’t seem to sleep, not even by force, and so have decided to simply spend some time writing and searching for that silver cloud.

.3. See: Am delusional due to the exhaustion. I called it the silver cloud rather than the silver lining.

.4. And I found that silver ‘cloud’ (because it really is so much larger than mere lining) in my Yahoo! e-mail account only moments ago.

.5. My friend A is leaving for London, England and I am convinced that this is yet another sign for me to go back there again and visit; even if it is for a short weekend trip to hang out with Hannah. I envy that he is going and I must remember to keep my eyes peeled for tickets.

.6. Speaking of eyes, my eyes currently look as though someone took a tub of black Indian ink and poured it into my pupils. This morning I had my yearly eye exam and my Doctor dilated my pupils and now I can’t see because it’s too sunny. I am squinting and I am only allowed to work on the computer or read without my glasses on (for at least a few more hours, anyway).

.7. I want to share with you one of the multitude of brilliant passages from Jeanette Winterson’s The Passion. This is one of the two main characters speaking about war and women, it is the Frenchman named Henri:

When we came here, we came from our mothers and sweethearts. We were still used to our mothers with their work-hard arms that could clout the strongest of us and leave our ears ringing. And we courted our sweethearts in the country way. Slow, with the fields that ripen at harvest. Fierce, with the sows that rut the earth. Here, without women, with only our imaginations and a handful of whores, we can’t remember what it is about women that can turn a man through passion into something holy. Bible words again, but I am thinking of my father who shaded his eyes on those sunburnt evenings and learnt to take his time with my mother. I am thinking of my mother with her noisy heart and of all the women waiting in the fields for the men who drowned yesterday and all the mothers’ sons who have taken their place.
We never think of them here. We think of their bodies and now and then we talk about home but we don’t think of them as they are; the most solid, the best loved, the well known.
They go on. Whatever we do or undo, they go on.
-The Passion, Jeanette Winterson, p. 29.

.9. I have been searching for an inspired character to place into a book I started to write in August of last year, and I think that, perhaps, that character may be Tamer Hagras. Am still undecided, but when he comes to 2ukhtubni, we’ll mull it over casually and I’ll let him decide.

.10. I was at a stop light watching a child who couldn't have been older than four years old; she was holding on to her father's hand and hanging there, legs limp, arms limp, swaying and laughing but never falling, occasionally looking up at her father and laughing that laugh that only children have, the honest one that comes from deep inside their tummies. She believed that grip was the only thing in the world she needed to be happy and safe. I couldn't help but think how I wished I could do that now, today, at this age...but everyone knows that innocence is fleeting and mine ran away as soon as the light turned green.

Personal Knitting Notes

.1. As of yesterday, it was confirmed that (insert drum roll) Napoleon Bonaparte was poisoned to death. The bastards! What a cowardly way to assassinate someone, especially a short someone at that.

.2. I am learning how to knit. It's supposed to be a form of stress-relief but oddly enough I have a tension headache from concentrating on the small knots and I have booked a massage because I fear that my shoulders may have permanently positioned themselves right next to my ears. Maybe they just have a secret they have to tell my ears.

Oh! I also now have a scarf.

I am trying to learn how to make mittens and so if you see a female walking down the street with a slightly awkward tabby cat orange scarf around her neck, and probably oversized mittens, in the same shade...that is I.

Note to you: My little mother is convinced that there are only two knits: saada & sha2looba. It was interesting to watch her in the crafts store because everything she picked up was either 'saada' or 'sha2looba', something which continued happening even as she accidentally stumbled into the paint section. I began to worry when she started pointing at the red paint and repeating 'sha2looba', and so I took her home and put a cold compress on her forehead. She's ok now, alhamdullilah.

Note to you 2: The above Note to you is a complete joke. If I don't spell that out, my mother will sha2looba me when I get home.

My ultimate goal is to make a throw. With beads, and silk and have it be long and warm and pretty and perfect.

.3. Holt Renfrew fixed the snapped heel and I am to receive it tomorrow. I still don't recommend them, though. Not yet, anyway.

.4. At lunch, I will entertain you with another "falling" story (I promise).

.5. Hatem stumbled upon my blog by way of searching for Tamer Hagras!! That's just the funniest way to find me (and ultimately quite flattering...).

Note to self: Perhaps Tamer will be foolish enough to Google himself and find me. He will fall in love with this blog, and move to Canada to find me. He will 2ukhtubni and my family will sha2looba him. We will have a great big wedding.

Note to self 2: Maybe make Tamer Hagras a scarf. We'll match!!

Personal Iskandar Notes

This evening, we saw the much anticipated Oliver Stone film Alexander. Surprisingly, this film is in fact a comedy, and it is on this that I base my RPNs this evening.

.1. Like myself, you were probably unaware of the fact that Alexander and his G-12 Unit were all Irish. It’s a subtle nuance, one only picked up on if you attend this film and listen to their voices. The secret’s out and the Greeks and the Egyptians must deal with the fact that it has always been the Irish who ruled the world.

.2. Angelina Jolie plays one creepy mother in this film. She looks fabulous in eye-liner and snakes and no one could figure out to which country her speech impediment, accent if you prefer, belonged. I don’t think she was Irish, but see the movie and then let me know what you can come up with.

I love Angelina; she is my favorite actress. Completely unmatched.

.3. Everybody in the audience wishes for Jared Leto’s character to die; he plays Alexander’s lover, who Alexander always hugs really closely and dearly and sticks his face in his hair.

.4. When he does finally kick it, Alexander is waxing philosophic about something much too important to pay any real attention…but the audience can see that Jared is freaking out in the background (Alexander was one seriously self-centered dude).

.5. Many individuals in this film were of the no-sex gender. Most of the time, and with the Irish brogue in my ear, I was trying to figure out “…is that a guy or a girl?”

.6. Alexander’s entry into Egypt and the fact that he made Iskandaria was of no value to Oliver Stone, for it was barely referenced in this film, titled Iskandar.

.7. Oliver Stone really has to lay off the hard drugs, because he was telling a story that none of us really understood; not even the guys behind us who must have been on some sort of smack (& whose comedic timing was more entertaining than the Irish on the screen).

.8 There was some definite tension between Val Kilmer (Alexander’s poppy) and Angelina Jolie (Alexander’s mommy). The tension wasn’t the good kind; in fact, it was so bad that it turned into some sort of mischievous ‘spat’ between two three year old children and made the audience roar with laughter.

.9. Colin Farrell looked fabulous in a skirt, but had some massive hair issues throughout the entire film. Someone give the man a comb.

.10. Tamer Hagras would have looked better in the skirt, and would not have had hair issues, am most certain.

Personal Napoleonic Notes

.1. These are my second set of Random Personal Notes today…and that’s because it’s just one of those days. It may not happen again for a while, so enjoy it.

.2. I am reading Jeanette Winterson’s The Passion (unrelated to The Christ), and so because it is centered around the time and reign of Napoleon Bonaparte, today’s lunch hour took me for a spin on Napoleon’s life and quotes. Surprisingly, I found that it was he (and not Cummings, as I had originally thought) that said the brilliant: “Fortune is like a woman – if you miss her today, think not to find her tomorrow.”

Note to self: Perhaps it is the short men whom I should be paying more attention to.

Note to self 2: Short men it is, for after all, they do possess the excellent dancing height for a partner, when am not in heels.

Q for you: Do you think Napoleon knew how to do a jig?

.3. I think that a part of me has to always be tortured to a certain degree in order to peek my interest with regards to the situation (any situation) at hand.

Note to you: Am not even goth (am almost always in white).

.4. I have discovered the anklette. Unlike the Rockette, they don’t dance…but are most definitely a brilliant make of nylon. When next you see me and am in heels, look for them at my ankles.

.5. I spoke with Holt Renfrew’s Office of Executive Experience this morning, and am to receive word of how they plan on resolving my six month wait without the black shoe. Will update you asap (because I know you’ve been waiting with baited breath since early this morning).

Personal Brushing Notes

.1. If using an Oral-B power toothbrush for the first time, what follows are a few pointers to ensure your safety. For those of you unfamiliar with this product, it is a self spinning industrial strength toothbrush (recommended by most dentists, eh):

(a) When you first start using it, be gentle with your teeth, for if you press too hard on them, it will actually feel as though your brain is being shaken (not stirred). When your head starts shaking not of its own volition at 6:30 a.m., you may not have a great rest of day.

(b) Oddly enough, the aforementioned shaking is somewhat addictive and you’ll find yourself running (don’t trip!) to the washroom in the mornings and after every meal because you have to “brush”. You will go missing for days on end, and your family may consider sending you to a rehab centre with you kicking and screaming that you need to “brush”.

(c) For the first few days, don’t place the Oral-B power tool into your mouth unless you are standing above a sink, because you will drool. Until you’re used to it, the drooling is a part of the inevitable growing pains, trust me.

(d) After placing the tooth paste on your Oral-B, and before hitting the start button, I recommend you place it in your mouth. If you hit the start button before the spinning power tool is safely hidden inside of said closed area, you will be cleaning toothpaste out of your eyes, hair, mirror, walls and ceiling (not necessarily in that order).

.2. I have been receiving e-mails from individuals who frequent this blog, and have finally been told that the reason they’re not posting comments is because they are under the impression that they must hold a blogger account in order to do so. And so…I did a little investigation in order to find whether this is in fact true or otherwise, and am happy to report that you’re all wrong.

The blogger folks are somewhat tricky and when you click the Comment button below any entry, you are taken to a page where there is a small Post a comment (that does not appear to be a link, but it is). Click on that and you are taken to another page that reads Comment Sign in that prompts you for a Username and a Password. But alas, below the massive blue ‘Sign in’ button, there is a small link that is easy to miss and it reads Or Post Anonymously and it is on this link that you want to click and…post anonymously. Sneaky they are, the folks at blogger (but we love them still).

If you do this, please make certain to actually sign your name at the end of your comment so I know who you are (thank you).

.3. Last night, I was at the corner store with my friend A purchasing candy for the movie we had rented. Standing before the cashier man, I was told that my total was $6.76 and so I handed him $7.00. Within moments, I had discovered a penny, and so I repeated excitedly two times (in Newton fashion) “I have a penny. I have a penny!” to which the man responded dryly “I’m happy for you”. Once again, I laughed alone.

.4. I am a very regular customer at Holt Renfrew and I think it necessary that I share the following story with you. I had been searching for the perfect black heel, when I came across a $200 pair of my dream black shoes (last year’s dream, anyway) and so rather than buying myself my ceremonial high-heeled boot, I opted to purchase the black shoe instead.

On one beautiful sunny afternoon this last summer, I was walking down the street and my heel actually snapped in half; not a little, not slightly, not a crack or a sprain, but rather a full-on snap in half. That was back in June (count: 5 months ago) and so I took the shoe back to Holt Renfrew and asked what they could do…and they told me they would fix the heel since apparently, this snapping of the $200 heel had become a regular occurrence at the Holt Renfrew shoe department.

Five months ago.

Am still waiting for my shoe, and will keep you updated on my heel saga and what transpires between myself and the idiots running the show at Holt Renfrew. I suggest you all simmer down and not purchase anything from there until a regular customer such as myself can guarantee you will receive an acceptable level of service.

.5. You can now text message my mobile again for all has been fixed.

.6. Have any of you seen Tamer Hagras lately?

.7. I have to go “brush”.

Just not doing it?

I am attempting to teach myself a new lesson in patience and control; when I have made myself a promise to not do something, and I have the urge to do it, I follow my mantra of “just don’t”.

I know it sounds terribly simple, but I’m sure that’s what employees at Nike said when they heard the “Just do it” tag-line. These same employees now reside in your dumpsters, and it’s the folks who came up with it that are now a bazillion kamillion transillion dollars richer (and the related slave trade, the poorer).

When you think about it, it’s really fascinating how we can’t listen to ourselves much of the time. I’m not even talking about an actual addiction related to chemical reaction, but rather pure and simple psychological warfare that your own mind plays on itself.

Mind you, there may be some sort of a chemical action / reaction deal at play, one stemming from something released in your mind or your system? I don’t know; I never did well in Chemistry.

So, this may just be my first ever blog challenge (and perhaps my last). For just this one week, I challenge you to do the same. Trust me, it’s not as easy as it sounds, and you need to pick one thing that you know is not good for you, but not something that is chemically addictive. The item from which you are to remove yourself has to be some sort of psychological fixation or emotional drama related to your life, some sort of habit that you’ve developed and that you know is being destructive (e.g. something you always kick yourself for after).

Mine is simple, really. I am an optimist. But then, at times, I am a *severe* pessimist. I look at a situation and I actually imagine the worst possible case scenario. I become anxious about it, and react not to the reality before me, but rather, to the imagined worst-case-scenario situation. It sucks & I have to stop it, because it’s a no value added situation.

And. Life’s too damn short, anyway.

Will let you know how I do…

Random UK Notes

.1. Have had three days filled with the most fascinating women; First it was conversations about dreams and realities with D, then a session of literature and mayhem with A, followed by dinner with three brilliant Palestinian women last evening, one that ended in hysterical generalizations, impassioned opinions, and interesting life perspectives. Finally, this day took me to lunch with I and political conversation (peppered with her occasional Alexandre Trudeau swoon). I love that I am surrounded by women of this calibre.

.2. Went for a jog last night and found myself wondering if Jack the Ripper was going to be coming after me due to the immeasurable amount of fog that seems to have swallowed Ottawa whole. Made for a quicker jog, so no real complaints.

.3. Had a lovely conversation with H in the UK this morning, missing her dearly and am having a really difficult time believing that it has been almost 11 months since I was visiting with her in London. She’s no longer writing for Cosmo UK, and is now the proud author of Elle UK articles. At the moment, she should be eating organic brownies and retoxifying with L (I hope). Being the fabulous woman that she is, our very own H made the top 10 Guardian UK hot singles chart (yay, singleton!).

.4. Conversation with H confirmed my suspicion that British women are a breed unto themselves and ones to be studied carefully in their wit and charm and humour. She makes the best nicoise salad and I miss it. One year to the day that I was writing a travel log while in London, will be posted on this blog (coming in January 2005!), for I am most definitely some sort of masochist.

.5. Today is a great day for I purchased a digital camera, finally! So, erm, that means I will be posting a bazillion photos on here from now on and changing that About me photo every so often. If you are a friend of mine and I am to be seeing you soon, expect that I will be taking photos of you at all times. Recommend that you start coming up with new and exciting poses that are acceptable in public.

Mobile & Soap Personal Notes

.1. My mobile is on the fritz. You can call me and my voice mail will pick up immediately; feel free to leave a message or simply crank call me to hear my voice. I know you want to.

Many of us have had some variation of the following conversation:

Me: Hello.
You: Hey Maha.
Me: Hi, where are you?
You: On my way to the store.
Me: I just bought the nicest pair of heels.
You: Hello.
Me: But I shouldn’t have. But I did.
You: Maha?
Me: Hello.
You: MAHA.
Me: Why are you yelling at me? *pause* They’re really nice shoes.
You: I can hardly hear you. Where are you?
Me: The shoes are beige satin and black velvet.
You: You keep cutting out.
Me: With straps. *pause* Can you hear me now?
You: slaps?
Me: STRAPS.
You: MAHA.

It is at this point in the conversation that I have hang up on you and ogled my new shoes.



Rather than recognizing that I was having difficulties with my mobile, nearly 98% of those surveyed assumed that I had taken up beep-boxing as a hobby.

Note to self: Consider learning how to (a) beep-box; and, (b) do the worm, for may come in handy at next party.

Reality is that my voice transmitter / what I speak into when I am talking on the mobile / that thing at the end of my mobile and next to my mouth is not working. At the moment, my mobile is off and will remain so for the next couple of days, until Bell sends me my new phone (excellent warranty). As mentioned earlier, I check my voice mail often so call. Leave a message. Say hello. Tell me a joke. Do not send me text messages.

As soon as my new mobile has arrived and all is in order, will let you know.

.2. Today is a sad day because they killed Tamer (allah yir7amu). On the Egyptian soap opera. On the night of his khutuba (mabrook) to wife no 2 (7umar!), he got stabbed while on the dance floor in the bar while his first wife (who he truly loved) was at home in the new 7ara and pregnant (yeee!)…estranged from her old life because she married him without anyone knowing (but they went to a ma2zoon, and had two witnesses, alhamdulilah) and so her mom had to leave the old 7ara and put up her warsha for rent (ya 7aram) and move to this 7ara where no one knows her and her pregnant and married / but not really daughter (ya oh my ya waradi) because ba3deen 3eeb.

And the moral of the story is: Don’t dance in bars, or someone will stab you and you will die and leave behind an unborn child who your mother already hates.

Note to self: Consider writing an Arabic soap opera…something like: Protagonist goes to the beach without their dad’s knowledge, and they get eaten by a shark but then their mom has to lie about how the protagonist died for the rest of her life for fear of angering the protagonist’s dad, while she’s making fresh bread, and she gets a divorce because of main character’s mistake and the family looses all of its money in the tea industry and the older sister becomes a trashy actress who takes drugs and the guy down the street from protagonist’s family home gets hit by a car and protagonist burns in hell ALL BECAUSE they went to the beach and died without telling their dad.

Note to self 2: Tamer Hagras can play all characters in my script.

.3. As Tamer would say: Tizba7u 3ala kheer.

Eid El-Fitr Personal Notes

Had a rather special first day of Eid today because we spent it with close friends and one seriously disgruntled chef at a local hotel where we brunched.

Watched as this gentleman made omelets for the clientele and knew he was rhyming “I am a CHEF! You are a JOKE! Crack your own egg!” while mechanically uttering “…and which of zee vegetabooles would ew like wiz zee egz, Monsieur” to the obnoxious 12 year old boy standing to my left. It took everything out of me not to laugh out loud when the boy kept refusing to answer and instead kept asking the Chef to “make the vegetables catch flame”. I think the kid was challenged. Perhaps the Chef had some marbles loose too because as I watched him toy with his black frying pan and hot oil, I found myself involuntarily shimmying my way out of the bull’s eye that had painted itself on the 12 year old boy’s forehead.

A lot of old people giving each other “Happy you’re alive today!” gifts. None of them color their hair and so on several occasions I found that I nearly mistook their heads for really clean white napkins.

When in hell, God will surround me with the elderly.

Oh! Also, I have come to grips with the fact that I have a crush on Tamer Hagras, the actor.

Personal Cinematic Notes

.1. Eid Mubarak – Inshallah this next year will bring peace and happiness to your families and across this little earth of ours.

.2. Have been reading about the Knights Templar and they are most definitely one creepy fundamentalist bunch. Considering the intricacies between the Templars (who took their name from the Temple Mount, after they camped out in Al-Aqsa Mosque to dig below it in search of whatever craziness they believed was there) would think it most intriguing if someone did an analysis of their role, their secrets, their intentions with regards to the current political situation in the Middle East. (Their heirs are whom we now know as the Masons.)

.3. Hugh Grant gives good hand. Saw Bridget Jones’ Diary: The Edge of Reason last night and for all you men out there, watch Hugh and learn. You must see the film to understand.

.4. And on that note, how is it that I had no idea Bridget was in theatres last night? The Hollywood folk seem to have created some sort of air of mystery around their release dates as of late (…perhaps it has to do with the Templars…).

.5. Last night also, saw a great little home town band at The Highlander. First time in The Highlander (there last when it was Coffee Revolution) and quite enjoyed myself. Fun group of regulars and I couldn’t help but be reminded of Carleton University’s Mike’s Place. Highly recommended if you enjoy good 70’s tunes and a cozy little everybody knows everybody sort of atmosphere.

Note to you: Or if you simply like to ogle men in kilts.

.6. Did a typically Maha thing in the elevator today. Was leaning back against the mirrors, and being bothered by the hair (my own, thankfully!) in my face. Carrying a tray and three bags, I couldn’t exactly use my hands to move the hair out of my face, nor did I think it appropriate that I ask either the man or the woman standing with me to do so. Decided it would be best to use my own head movement to move said hair out of face and so swooshed head back and expected hair to follow suit. Problem was I had forgotten about the lovely mirror that was propping me up and so when I swooshed my head back, it came to an abrupt stop when it swooshed at high velocity right into the mirror. Immediate reaction was to laugh out loud, which I did. Alone.

.7. Would you like to join me in New York on the 27th of December? The Trans-Siberian Orchestra is playing there. They only have one show in Canada in Toronto on the 30th of November and I rang TicketMaster and they’re sold out, the BASTARDS! If you’ve not heard their music, I highly recommend that you download Christmas Eve in Sarajevo.

Tripping (Pt 1)

In yesterday's RPN I alluded to my hazardously clumsy nature. B recommended that I post what happened to me recently at the office because inevitably, that would put a smile on the faces of those who cruise this little blog.

I was rushed and had to get somewhere immediately. En route, I stopped in one of the doorways and spoke with a fellow colleague. After turning away from her and putting my body in motion to get to said destination...

Oh! I should tell you what I was wearing. I like high heels. I also like pants that are cuffed at the bottom. So: I was wearing high heels and cuffed dress pants.

Back to the story at hand. I turned around, said hello to another colleague facing me, and started to move forward. Actually, it was only the top half of my body that started moving forward. From the look on my colleague’s face, I knew that something was amiss in my behaviour because he instinctively looked terrified.

Before I could understand what was happening, I found that I was trying – in vain – to move my legs and feel the ground beneath my well-heeled feet, but I couldn’t. They were completely bound and I was air borne. I knew that I was moving my feet and I could feel that my legs were in some kind of motion, but what that motion was, I wouldn’t know until later.

I flew forward, directly toward my colleague and landed on my tummy, on the ground. Had he been standing closer, I would have actually driven my face into his chest and probably broken my nose. Instead, I skipped across the ground like one of those stones cool people throw on the surface of water.

I lay there for a few moments, then turned over and started howling with laughter because I saw the look on my colleague’s face. He was completely mortified, thinking I was unconscious.

What really happened was: My left heel made its way into my right cuff. So when I thought it was firmly placed on the ground, it was…but only it was via my right cuff.

When I went to lift my right foot, I also lifted my left foot and so while moving forward (at my usual rapid pace), and expecting to land on my right foot, I inadvertently took both feet out from under me and had no choice but to land on my stomach.

You should try it some time, maybe at a party where you’re trying to impress someone. It really is a neat trick.

All around the office was a small little picture of a stick person tripping. The caption read: Danger: Tripping Hazard! and the graphic artists in my area inserted: (or maybe it's just Maha.)

Personal Notes of Self Discovery

Have had a unique few days past where I learned a lot about myself. Yesterday evening, I had an even more interesting and stimulating interaction…one which complimented the last little while and is most certainly blog worthy (and erm, my blog space is a precious thing so this truly is a commemorative moment. I hear the mint is thinking of making a quarter with an image of my face etched into the middle of it in different shades of pink and white.).

Guess what? You get to be a part of what your blogmom has learned in the last few days (insert whistles & bells and all things sparkly!).

.1. I am a realist. No. I am a fatalist. WAIT! No, I am an idealist. (I may just have to settle for multiple personality disorder to keep you on your toes.)

.2. I am really clumsy. I’ve finally come to accept that if I don’t run into it, I will run over it, and if I don’t do that, I will trip and fall over it. It’s endearing and rather cute…when you’re not me and merely a spectator to the dance I do as I attempt to function at a human level.

.3. I have both a very short attention span and terrible short term memory.

.4. What?

.5. I like the colour yellow.

.6. I am easily swayed when seated across from mature intelligent folk.

.7. I have a short attention span and I can’t remember things all that well.

.8. I really like my caffe latte.

.9. I have to learn how to forgive.

.10. I have a really nice laugh.

.11. There are people in this world who intimidate me and to whom my explanations of “1 + 1 = 2” begin with “Right. So imagine you’re walking down that street at 4 p.m. in the afternoon and the other person gets on a train at 9 p.m. the evening previous (when they’re 24 hours before daylight savings time)…”

.12. I am all of 7 years old and I like candy.

Note to you: Feel free to build me a ginger bread house any time.

.13 At the drop of a hat, I can be as smart as Jessica Simpson (God bless her little blonde head).

.14 I am learning. Everyday and with every passing moment, I am learning that I can laugh at absolutely anything. I discovered that this morning when I woke up laughing at otherwise serious conversations had last night, and that put a smile of my face for the rest of my day (until I tripped over a box and nearly killed myself).

.15. Patience really is a virtue.

.16. When in doubt, lower your voice and speak calmly.

.17. I like sparkly things and colourful things and all things visually appealing.

Note to me: When are an adult, invest money in art work. Make one of Corno’s faces your first purchase.

.18. I am officially addicted to Tim Horton’s coffee. In fact, I think they should make some likeness of me, sell it as their mascot and call it: The Zim-Bit.

Take 20 people out for dinner and pay only $39.40

I now understand what it means when one says that the holidays are a really sad time for many people, and so this year, and outside of my normal charity activities, I am going to pay a little under $40 and make certain that 20 people get to have a complete Christmas dinner alongside one another.

I recommend you consider doing the same; don’t buy those music cds, avoid the movies for one night, eat in this weekend, or hold off on that lipstick and eye shadow you so need to have. Feed 20 people instead.

And if $40 is too steep, consider 10 people for $19.70.

Send your cheques to
The Mission
35 Waller Street
Ottawa, Ontario
K1N-7G4

…if any of you are interested in volunteering on Christmas day, let me know because I’m considering doing the same.