Personal 'Closer' Notes

.1. Before I tell you about the film we saw last evening, I want you to take a look at this and let me know if you find it as odd as I. This is no joke; these are actual priests and this is the calendar they made.

Perhaps our sheiks would do the same, in an effort to better the PR that currently bogs them down, the poor souls. They can all be wearing different sized hats and coloured robes...walking down the street, pulling Americans out of disastrous and dangerous situations, one could even have a bubble that reads: "Allah bless America".

Note to self: Look into making that a sticker that folks can place on the back of their cars. Would make millions in Chicago alone!

Note to you: By virtue of me blogging that idea, it is copy written to me, asap (because it is dated), so I dare you to try and take that idea from me Remember: I do have a legal background.

.2. Jude Law is an attractive man...as is Clive Owen, but the film Closer was more than about being a pretty face; it was also about T & A, much thanks to Natalie Portman.

No, ok. It wasn't only about that, it was about how one can cheat and be unfaithful and be a creep and gross and sick and twisted and sleep with a whore and be an absolutely morally lacking individual yet (drum roll) remain really well dressed and be very pretty.

The movie was terrible. We were actually groaning near the end, the women behind us laughing every time one of the characters decided to tell the other (for the umpteenth time) that they cheated on them, or that they didn’t love them, or that they wanted them to make a cup of tea. Worst thing about this movie is that it glamorised to a great degree, the moral bankruptcy of these four characters, almost an affirmation that this sort of unfaithfulness is the norm, that it is acceptable and to be expected. But their moral bankruptcy was really twisted and severe, for they would (eventually) “tell the truth”. Honestly, had I been any of those characters, I would have opened a seriously massive can of whup-ass at several different intervals during the course of the film.

Weird that the men wanted to know the sickest details and all the women wanted was to leave. Clean break, if possible…which I would think it never is. But what of the languages the two sexes were speaking? The women were talking a completely different language than the men and this was really disturbing to watch.

And what is with stripping? Do they do the sorts of things that Natalie Portman was doing? And how? For everyone? Wow. Also, when did Cirque du Soleil start taking its clothes off? And frankly, there is no way that a stripper would be wearing La Perla and Lejaby – which she was wearing. Absolutely not to throw these exquisite pieces of lingerie on to dirty perverted men in suits and ties.

The film disturbed me immensely; and anyone who thinks this an honest depiction of reality and relationships, should really re-evaluate their perspectives on men and women and when it was that the stupids started behaving like brutes and animals….and more importantly, when it was that as a society, it became the norm.

And the worst part is that this movie had no linear message, no message at all, in fact. Here are the messages I heard:
Sex is unrelated to love.
No, wait. Sex is related to love and can only mean something if two people are in love.
No. Not really.
Just joking on that one.
But seriously, no matter what you do, it’s okay to have sex with a prostitute because no one will ever bring it up again.
And please: be explicit when you describe how you cheated on me.
Better yet, videotape it so I can watch it over and over and over again.
And if you must, cheat on me in my own home.
And make certain to do it on the nicest piece of furniture we have.
And art is nothing but a bunch of lies.
But so are we.
Touch my face and I will love you.
Lie to me, and all will be well.
But I hate you.
And I am leaving you because I don’t love you anymore.
Though I loved you, and lied to you about my real name.
Being naked is the only form of “real”.
And piss off already, because my wig has more character than you do.
And the grass is always greener.
But not really.

In all fairness, there was one truth: Before one cheats, before one makes that move to cross that line, there is a moment. There is one final moment, your last grace, that you can either ignore or respect. In this instance, it was Jude who said “Come here”. That was the moment and that was the catalyst. Interestingly enough, it was the one who initiated this moment, who was the first to cross that line that was the ultimate loser.

.3. Dumb. Stupid. Useless. Nonsense. Don’t waste your time; watch Love Actually instead, or porn if you must. Really.

.4. If Closer is any indication of reality, I prefer my bubble world filled with romance and flowers and a little heartache, but an honest heartache and not one born of defilement and deviance and absolute disrespect for the person you choose to commit to.

.5. Yes: Am being judgemental. This is my blog; deal with it.

.6. Jude Law is really hairy.

.7. If you are a man and you wish to pursue me, pay very close attention to the following: A man is someone who is not scared to commit, recognizing fully well that there will always be temptation (a smart woman will also see this). Strength of character rests in the reality that you will keep it in your god damn pants. Otherwise, you’re just a beast, without the faculty to recognise right from wrong, and do the right thing.

It takes strength to commit and to remain commited; if you can't hack it, you don't deserve a woman like me.

.8. Yes: Am being judgemental. This is my life; deal with it.

.9. Promise to be much more upbeat tomorrow (really).

Personal Dropping Notes

.1. As mentioned yesterday, you can now add “drop it” to the list of items that describe how I live my life.

Two mornings ago, I was standing in Tim Horton’s waiting for a cab, and carrying two extra large cups of coffee in a tray. Standing quietly and minding my own business, I was in the front entrance, which is completely encased in glass, with many an individual standing outside in the parking lot.

Note to self: Was contemplating how I would spend my first million.

Suddenly, and without any movement on my part, one of the extra large cups of coffee tipped over, the cap flew off like a bullet and the coffee attempted to make its great escape. Like all entities headed for prison, the coffee, once destined for someone’s insides, then bowels and ultimately colon, made its break away as quickly as possible, gushing everywhere, hitting all parts of the glass that surrounded me, spilling over on to my jacket, jeans, sweater, and finally the tile floor that was just cleaned by the too-kind Tim Horton’s staff. Once forced to live inside of filters and coffee pots, the coffee understood that it only had moments to rush out, before its bid for freedom could be thwarted forever.

Rather than allowing the coffee to break and run free (perhaps it was destined for the great outback in Australia), I used my own body in an attempt to hinder its run toward freedom. Using both arms, legs and even shoulders (but not necessarily in that order), I tried in vain to stop the coffee from spilling, inadvertently giving freedom to the other extra large cup of coffee watching sadly as its friend ran wild.

There I danced, two extra large cups of coffee spilling over me in all their glory; must have been a sight for all those standing in the parking lot. Rather than being the true socialist and allowing these two cups of coffee to move forward in their plight for sovereignty, I tried to oppress them. Am terribly sad at this tragic turn of events, for when the time came to be true to my word, I failed miserably.

In order to understand the calibre and severity of the situation, I recommend that each of you pick up an empty cup sized extra large from Tim Horton’s, fill it with warm water and then throw it over yourselves (must remember to refill and do this once more, asap).

There I stood, showered in coffee, my feet soaking in more coffee and the Tim Horton’s tiles covered in the rest of the coffee (Viva la revolucion!). Stepping back, it looked as though a massive coffee bomb had exploded all over the front entrance and me. They gave me more coffee for free; it’s nice to know that despite my stupidity, they think I a worthy customer. I tried to tell them that I threw the coffee around for fun, but they laughed, hurra!d and still handed me the coffee; one gentleman in line pretended to duck as I walked past, lest I throw my new coffees at him.

Jacket is now at the dry cleaners and my jeans and sweater in the wash. Am seated next to another cup of coffee at the moment, and I can hear the particles within whispering “…she’s the one; She’s the one that wouldn’t let them get away…”

.2. Am going to see Closer this evening. Clive Owen and Jude Law, hello.

.3. Here is how many of our American neighbours perceive us Canadian folk (kick up your snow shoes, grab your Molson, put on your earmuffs, pet your sledding dogs and enjoy).

Personal Posh Notes

.1. There I am, new photo taken only hours ago before dad picked me up for the posh party we attended at the National Arts Centre and put on by the National Council on Canada-Arab Relations.

Note to you: Isn’t my eye make-up fabulous (do ignore the red demons sitting in my eyes, it is only because my eyes are hazel and so the green in them reflects the light and makes for a red worthy of rouge). I rarely wear make-up because it makes me feel all clausterphobic, but I really like this photo...

Note to you 2: Tumors are caused by mobiles, or so I have been told by my telephone company.

See how close up this photo is? Print it up and play connect the dots on blog mistress’ face.

Note to self: Am rather photogenic! Consider printing up as life sized image, attach a band to the back and strap over face and hair on days when am not feeling so up to par.

In real life, I look more like:


.2. Met the lovely Carolyn Parrish, and not only is this woman an absolute hoot, but she is truly a beauty…and an amazon. I do believe she must be at least 6’2”. Simply gorgeous and very easy to chitter -chatter with; told her I was a fan and thought she brought it (then I made some East side / West side hand gestures, to which she responded in kind).

Note to you: Am joking. But I did do that in my head, as the pink elephants played.

.3. Met several other Members of Parliament, one gentleman named Bill who was a real charmer and had the greatest head of white hair I’ve ever seen on a man his age (which is: much older).

.4. Am made for schmoozing. It must be in my blood, because both my dad and I spent the evening chatting with folks we’d only just met.

Note to self: Would make a brilliant diplomat’s wife, or daughter in law.

.5. Speaking of which, have been told that Tamer Hagras is the son of a former Ambassador. But sadly, I have yet to find out if the man is married or not.

.6. Anne McLellan gave a speech. No more, and no less. Was supposed to be Pettigrew, and do wish it were him for he has much nicer hair (but currently stuck in Brussels).

.7. Organizers did a brilliant job, the layout and the evening were an absolute pleasure to experience.

.8. But there was no dancing, and so in order to compensate, I did a little jig in my elevator, alone. It was fun.

.9. At our table, sat with the new Egyptian Ambassador and his wife (His Excellency Mahmoud El-Saeed & Mrs. Heba Hussein Hassan Fahmy El-Saeed), who have only been here for a mere three months (poor souls are about to encounter Canadian winter at its hardest, it appears) both of whom were so much fun and so gracious and so completely engaging. Chatted through the entire evening and talked about Tamer Hagras, who if his dad is named Kamel (or Kamal), was rather popular.

Have made them new fans of Tamer Hagras; told them to check out his body of work in ‘Ya Ward Meen Yishtereek’. They referred to him as one of the “young new generation of actors”, to which I nodded in complete agreement.

Note to self: Must really get a semblance of a life, asap.

.10. Here are some interesting facts, all of which I picked up this evening: There are approximately 17,000,000 individuals living in Cairo (not Egypt, but only Cairo); There are approximately 72,000,000 Egyptians in Egypt; Procreation is strong among the Egyptians, it beats Monopoly; There are approximately 17,000,000 Saudis in Saudi Arabia, whereas about 15 years ago there were only about 7,000,000 of them; Saskatchewan has a Casino, and it is approximately 2/3 the size of Egypt; Saskatchewan's population is about 1,000,000; Qatar has the highest per capita per person (did I say that properly?) in the world, at about $35,000 a head; Qatar has a population of 100,000.

.11. Not only will I fall over, through or on it, you can now officially add “drop it” to the list. I have appointed myself the “drop it” girl, due to a nightmarish experience at Tim Horton’s yesterday involving two extra large coffees, a tray, a couple of windows, my jacket, my jeans, my sweater, my mobile, the person next to me and the just-cleaned tile floor. More on this tomorrow, I promise.

Personal Notes on Tripping (Pt. 2)

As promised last month, here is the story I referred to as The Time I Fell Right Outside of Foreign Affairs and Landed in the Bushes and Nobody Cared.

I was in a rush to meet M at a restaurant before heading off to Montreal, and so I was dressed comfortably and casually in black bell-bottoms and runners. Carrying my gorgeous and rather large red overnight bag (which had no cover), I flew out of the front doors of 125 Sussex, ran down the stairs and across the pavement and started to step back on to the sidewalk. Am a girl on the move, with French boutiques to find and fashionable cities to conquer. I should just move to Montreal considering how often I am there; but only if a gorgeous man purchases a property in West Mount and makes me his Queen.

Do understand that in front of the entrance to 125 Sussex one can find all of the smokers, the Ministers’ cars, the diplomats and the taxi cabs. I was not alone; I couldn’t even pretend to be alone.

OK. Back to the story…and so I started to step back on to the sidewalk when I felt that my right foot was caught in my left bell-bottom. Since I am a mover and a shaker and getting ready for Montreal, rushed and in bell-bottoms and runners, it is only natural that the bell-bottoms were flapping and the runners going at an extra fast pace. Unfortunately, there was a collision between these two, and I the worse for it.

I had no right foot to land on and so I kept flying forward at an alarmingly rapid rate, right over the step of the sidewalk, the entire sidewalk and nearly half the bushes. Most bizarre was my sense of fear, for it was not about my body, but rather that all of my precious items, those so carefully placed in my overnight bag, were to be damaged as soon as they hit the pavement. Do rest assured that nothing was damaged, for as I went propelling forward towards the bushes, so too did all of my precious items (remember: the gorgeous red overnight had no cover).

Note to self: Would make an excellent pole vaulter; look into how I can make it into the Olympics. Perhaps Tamer Hagras will notice me then.

It must have looked rather poetic actually, as though I had practiced doing just this at that precise moment in front of 125 Sussex, in an effort to provide both food for thought and humor to all those puffing away on cigarettes.

My knees and stomach hurt and my face was itchy; because my glasses were a little askew, I couldn’t see much, and so it took me a moment to realize I was in the bushes, stomach down, ass in the air and with gorgeous red overnight bag still over my shoulder, though practically empty.

As I lay there in the bushes, a gentleman getting into a cab (& carrying a suitcase) was kind enough to yell out – at the top of his voice: “ARE YOU OKAY?” to which I offered the honest response of: “Erm. I don’t think so.”
And to this he yelled back: “WELL. OK”, then jumped in the cab and left. But not before he waved goodbye.

Isn't that nice of him? To wave goodbye as I lay in the bushes? Sunshine was flowing out of his every orifice.

In his defence, he is a fellow employee and considering he was carrying a suitcase, he was probably rushed to get to some other part of the world...as most of us who work here are usually in this state of rushed affairs.

I gathered all of my items, made certain that my gorgeous red bag was without rip or tear, rolled up my pants and headed off toward the restaurant without even one look over my shoulder.

Note to self: Surely, the smokers, they won’t recognize my back side.

Note to self 2: There are cameras at the front entrance of 125 Sussex; am certain there is video footage of this vault of mine. Consider asking security for tape and making it into mpg in order to link to blog.

Note to self 3: Learn how to make mpg.

Jim Morrison said it best when he said “Walk tall, act fine and never look back,” but maybe he wasn’t talking about “Roll out of the bushes, walk tall, act fine and never look back”…but who knows?

Wait. Maybe that was Bowie. Do wonder if he ever fell in such fashionable ways; though would think that getting caught in bed with Mick much more humiliating than falling into bushes.

Ok. Am off to blog about this evening at the posh event, where much fun was had by all and I spoke to the Egyptian Ambassador about Tamer Hagras.

Note to you: Seriously. I have a problem.

Personal Television Notes

.1. Have had a rather morose day, if only because I am completely exhausted from the weekend and what lies ahead. For the first time in a long time, I found some quiet time for me this evening and wasted it all away thinking about absolutely nothing, television acting as my sneaky accomplice.

.2. Have you seen the new commercial for children’s dissolving Tylenol? You’ll know it as soon as it comes on because it is filled with germs, approximately 27 children sticking their tongues out at the screen.

.3. The stupids at Nike decided to make an add for China showing an NBA player defeating a kung fu master, a pair of dragons and two women in traditional Chinese garb. Is it any surprise this was banned in China?

Hear that Nike plans on hitting up the closer Saudi Arabia with a commercial showing Britney Spears ripping off a woman’s veil and shouting “Like, Just DO it, oh my god.” (Right. That was a joke; the stupids at Nike are doing no such thing…)

.4. Watched Las Vegas and enjoyed ogling JD; laughed myself silly when he jumped over a railing and landed full out to his 6’3”. Reminded me of me.

Note to self: Am feeling rather guilty about cheating on Tamer Hagras, but really must remember to find out if he’s married or not.

.5. This Wednesday, will be my dad’s date to a rather posh little dinner party; must buy something to wear and a nice pair of shoes to match. Have been told there is dancing at these events and so am looking forward to kicking up my heels when the time comes.

.6. Speaking of which, approximately two years ago, I decided to learn my favorite dance, the tango.

Have you ever tried to tango?

Well, don’t. It is the most difficult of the dances because neither the man nor the woman lead, and should be reserved for those who are serious serious serious about learning the tango; made a complete bumble of myself (and enjoyed it) and learned that I am best to groove to my own beat and not that of the tango.

.7. Would a bisexual be considered an 'equal opportunity sexer'? Rather interesting definition, even if I do say so myself...

.8. Must really eventually get round to telling you about one of my other infamous falls…soon, I promise.

.9. C is in Mexico, and I am feeling slightly sad that they are not around.

.10. Earlier this day, B and I were discussing the ways to know that the person standing before you is the one to whom you should commit (or at least try to force him to 2ukhtub you). I do believe we agreed that if you are both in the same room and regardless of how many people may be around, you are always aware of their presence and can pin-point them in case of fire and / or emergency.

Think of it in this way: If you are in a room of 200 individuals, you will know they are there before you actually see them. As they walk toward you, everyone else will morph (Kafkaesque) into large fuzzy dollops of muted color, while person in question becomes hyper clear, almost as though they are in 3-D x 10.

Note to self: Really. Must cut back on the coffee and the Hollywood blockbusters, asap.

Remember, kids: Am prone to hallucinations.

.11. Don’t use “irregardless” for it is not an actual term in the English language. It is a blunder and the term for which you search is merely regardless.

.12. Tomorrow: Smile at a complete stranger and say hello, warmly and as though you really mean it (even if you must stab yourself with a fork in order to utter a semblance of emotion, you calloused stupid; this, directed at no one in particular).

Personal Elizabethian Notes

.1. Am rather exhausted from this weekend, and so these RPNs will not be the normal humorous ones, more of an explanation of the wonder that this weekend turned out to be.

.2. And so, Elizabeth arrived on Friday evening and we started our weekend by going out for a little pasta and staying up until almost 3 a.m. chatting and learning about one anothers’ lives as they occurred over the last little while, last I saw her in Montreal.

At dinner, recalled that when I was all of 12 years old, I was obsessed with the film Top Gun and convinced I should join the Cadets and make my call-sign Maverick.

I wasn’t very cool as a child and so rather lucky that at different intervals, my mother would commit acts of intervention in order to hold my stupidity at bay.

.3. Saturday can only be described as the evening that will go down in history. On every level and at every turn, the 8 course meal was an absolute success.

As invited, the girls arrived at 5 p.m., each one of whom was indeed wearing sparkly items (clearly stated on the invite). The lights went out and the first course served at precisely 5:30 p.m. Since I refused to turn on any electric lighting, there were no less than 100 candles used to light up all of the beautiful faces around the table. The music was a mix of Norah Jones, Ella Fitzgerald, Buddy Guy, Enya, & Erikah Badu. For good measure, I played a little Brtiney – and although the girls pretended to hate her, I could sense they were battling their own selves to not slide across my kitchen floor in time with the beats. Since I am not an in the closet Briitney fan, I was sliding across my floor in time to the beats.

Note to self: Am lucky that amidst the candle light, no one could actually make out what I was doing.

Nature decided to complete the ambiance of the night by gracing us with howling winds that followed every movement of our evening, and which T dubbed “….like being in a Scottish castle” except we didn’t have the luxury of being served by men in kilts.

The evening itself lazed around and carried us through its graces over the course of five hours, at different moments standing still to allow us the enjoyment of the following:

a) Fresh baguette with Tzaziki, Hummus and Baba Ghanoush dips
b) Arugula with toasted walnuts and asiago cheese
c) Red bell pepper soup with cream, parmesan and fresh thyme
d) Shrimp with dip
e) Linguine with white sauce, shitake mushrooms and scallions
f) Lemon sorbet
g) Filet mignon stuffed with morel mushrooms, garlic and shallots
h) Vanilla ice cream with fresh strawberries and blue berries

Best line of the evening 1: (and I will not name from whose lips this was uttered): As we were leaving my home and preparing to head to another location, one of these brilliant women explained how & due to the amount of food she ate, she hoped that at our destination, she would neither “explode nor crap [her]self”.

Best line of the evening 2: When one of the napkins caught fire and L held it up in awe, only capable of uttering “Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.”

Best moment of the evening: When we all bit into our filet mignons and realized that the meat was in fact melting in our mouths (this is truly no exaggeration).

Note to self: Am a culinary goddess.

.4. Elisabeth left earlier today and I was sad to see her go, because she is one of the sweetest and kindest souls I know. Am looking forward to seeing her soon, most likely by the end of this month. Bye, Zaby!

.5. And good night. I do promise to be slightly more upbeat tomorrow and the Random Personal Notes more humorous and to par.

Personal Cuisine Notes (with a splash of the sexes)

.1. Yesterday I was in the kitchen at the office and a very pretty and very tiny woman came in to get her lunch. She pulled out what I can only describe as the largest tupperware I have ever laid eyes on; larger than the Pheronic head purchased by my father.

From what I can tell, she usually brings in about three of these tupperwares filled with what my mum calls “7asheesh” (translation: “grass”), and she snacks on them all day long. No stuffed chicken, or mulukhya or ma7shi or even wara2 3enab, just “grass”. Cute little bunny rabbit.

I can imagine her pulling a sled over her shoulder every morning, one stacked with grass, so as to sustain her eating all day long at the office.

She is much healthier and in much better shape than all of us combined and so I will leave this RPN at this: admiration for her.

.2. All this writing about grass has made me crave poutine.

.3.Took my entire lunch this day and completed the shopping for my first ever annual Holiday Dinner Party. I had a list of 37 items (including props) and managed to find all that I was looking for.

Note to self: Am terribly organised; ought to consider starting my own organising company for sad disorganised folks. Make millions. Marry Tamer Hagras.

While I was in Loblaws, I was investigating a bunch of spinach, when it started to rain on my head.

I threw myself backwards and nearly knocked over their display of chestnuts so as to not ruin my hair, and thought: “…to hell with the spinach” when I realised that there are automatic sprinklers above the greens (7asheesh) in Loblaws. I stood muttering to myself and touching my hair, watching as every few minutes, a spray of water would be unleashed on the sopping wet greens.

Note to self: Do bring shower cap next am in Loblaws.

.4. Also, while in Loblaws, I had the help of Dave S., my own personal Loblaws shopper, who took me down all of the aisles and pulled out what I needed and couldn’t find (e.g. “Dave S., is a shallot a type of potato or onion?”).

Dave S. was great, and if ever you are at the Loblaws at the corner of Vanier and something-or-other, look for Dave S.

.5. iTunes is in Canada now!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was so excited when I received the notification e-mail last night that I immediately exercised my right to be a consumer and purchased two of my favourite dance tunes: Britney Spears’ (shut up) ‘I’m a Slave 4 U’ and ‘Prerogative’. Most excellent way to start off my weekend.

.6. Elizabeth arrives this evening. Woo-hoo.

.7. Hatem4444 is back (yay) and he commented a great deal, and so I feel the necessity to blog a response because his questions are rather valid and touch on many of the thoughts in my own head, most especially that strange and special dimension we hit when are dealing with those of the opposite sex (if straight).

Hatem4444: “…the more i read the more i know about u & other girls in our age group.”

Maha: Really. I wouldn’t recommend taking me as an indicator of anyone in our age group or otherwise. That could be hazardous to your health; have a tendency to be rather flippant about much and reside all-too-often in a world of my own making (though this makes those around me happy because sitting with the *real* me is usually like sitting in a room filled with pink elephants).

Note to you: Am not a pink elephant, only like one…but not my thighs, or my nose, or my ears. I do have tusks, though. Sorry.

Hatem4444: “…are ur notes to self considered the typical girl's notes to herself or are u considered ultra-normal (to put it diplomatically). I mean, should i consider forming the assuption that ur notes to self are a general opinion of a general girl your age generally,therefore postulating some postulates/theories about the female way of thinking?!”

Blog Hostess: Absolutely not. The notes to my self are really the product of hyper active imagination, although often times rooted in some sort of fantasy (e.g. Tamer Hagras). I would think it safe to assume that most women do not think this way, or men, or those in between. You should consider the note to self a second person in my personality; She whom is a dork, and who you should be inspired to love.

Also, they are key components of a book I am writing and I have never seen them used in the same capacity as I use them (to tell an on-going story, and explain the main character to the reader) and so they are all my own. I do plan on executing those who try to emulate the notes to self portion of my writing.

Let’s go with “ultra-normal”, in the most un-general way possible. Also, do not postulate / theorise based on anything on this blog, unless you are interested directly in me, your blog mistress. (And if you do look like Tamer Hagras, please feel free to postulate as much and as often as you wish.)

Hatem4444: i was always intrigued by how males/females speak different languages:martian/venetian, u know.
i always needed some guidance in venetian & am on pursuit to take classes if necessary.

Apricot: Me as well. Unfortunately, I don’t speak Venetian, rather Maha-nese. Have stopped trying to understand Martian, because I am hopeless. The bottom line is, am not big on games and don’t really know how to go about them; those who know me understand that I speak Human and am very forthright.

Honestly, if a man likes a woman, he too will speak Human and pursue her; Vice versa for women. My favourite form of communication is usually akin to: “…I think you’re smokin’ hot and want to hang out with you to see where this could lead us…”.

Note to self: Though am sounding authoritative and rather intelligent at the mo, really have no idea what I am talking about.

I believe that if you refuse to listen to that divide (Venetian / Martian), you will be much happier and much more comfortable in your own skin and in any relationship. That is my advice to my boy cousins all the time, and they can attest to the fact that women fall at their feet…like flies, they drop; be honest, be attentive and be communicative. That’s all there is. End of story. Partners in life ought to be nothing more than best friends with a splash of serious chemistry.

If you’re faced with a woman who tries to speak Venetian, my advice is to drop her. Immediately. ASAP.

And frankly, a man who has the confidence and strength and charm to pursue someone on such an honest and forthright level is a rarity but a gem worth paying serious attention to…Even if he is 4’2” and really hairy. At least in my books, or erm, on my blog.

.8. I absolutely loved fleshing that out!

Note to Hatem444: Do comment in this realm more often…

.9. Note to you: Am single, so read the above with great trepidation. Actually, best not to pay attention to a word I’ve written.

Personal Genealogy Notes

.1. Attention to all whom I come in contact with (citizens, countrymen, Romans…): Irregardless of whether it is today or next month, you, that’s correct: YOU. You shall become fodder for my blog and the many books I shall publish en route to becoming a millionairess.

I will write about you sooner or later, in all your glory and / or stupidity. I love you, but I shall eventually make a caricature of you. But, I do love you, my caricature.

Note to you: Et tu, Brutu?

Note to self: May have confused Shakespeare plays and / or reality vs theatre. Check so as not to appear as a true imbecile, asap.

.2. My daddy is learning French (he is currently in Class Zero), learning to speak through his nose in an effort to pronounce “non”.

This got me to reminiscing.

My first ever French teacher was a lovely Egyptian lady whom I will run into next month, am certain. Although I cherish her to this day, at the age of 6 I quickly learned to say “Est-ce que je peux aller aux toilette?” (spelling and grammar all wrong, I know. Shut up.) so as to escape that class and the smelly child sitting next to me.

.3. Strange is individual reactions to my blog. Those who have known me for years through the Arabic community think I some kind of humorless icicle. Little did they know that I have very lightweight blood and am as warm as a duvet.

They are reading and they are learning, and I am enjoying that I can still surprise them after all this time.

Note to self: Cosmo did always say: “Keep them guessing”, and so Well Done, self! Bravo.

.4. Sami Al-Husseini is pleased that my father purchased the “Pheronic” abnormally large cranium. Due to his relief, I plan to exact swift revenge on his person.

Note to self: Carry out following:
a) Take a photo of “The head”
b) Print up 100 normal sized copies of said photo
c) Print up 3 extra large sized photos on 10 stock paper
d) Paper mache all items in Sami’s office with the 100 smaller photos
e) Drape 1 extra large photo over his home
f) Drape 1 extra large photo over his car
g) Drape 1 extra large photo over self and follow Sami around
h) When I write my memoirs, this shall be referenced as “exact swift revenge”
i) Make millions
j) Marry Tamer Hagras
…not necessarily in that order.

Note to Sami Al-Husseini: Give it a couple of days and then google yourself; you will find my blog, I promise.

.5. Elisabeth is coming, yay!

.6. I have not yet begun preparation for my Saturday evening annual Holiday Dinner Party, and so am already behind.

Note to self: Learn how to become a much better hostess, so as to ensure that when the time comes, I am able to throw exquisite parties for our (Tamer Hagras and I) guests.

Note to self 2: Must eventually remove tongue from cheek, damn it.

.7. Often times, I have seen Asian men and confused them for my own family members.

This evening, my uncle was speaking to me and I was fixated on his slightly slanted eyes and unusually high (and beautiful) cheekbones. Am now convinced I do have some Asian running through my blood lineage.

Note to self: Right. Look up genealogy of last name and following variations thereof:
a) Zimyong
b) Zimbing
c) Zimchang
d) Zimchu
e) Zimding
f) Zimdong
g) Zimzang

Note to you: Am envious of all far Asian women, for they are true beauties.

Note to you 2: Am prone to hallucinations.

.8. Did you know that Poultry and Chicken are not the same? I was taught just that this evening while at a Chinese restaurant when much to my surprise, I came across the heading: Poultry or Chicken. It consisted of…chicken dishes…but who am I to nit pick?

Also, spinach is actually spelled spinash.

Stupid English.

Note to self: Tread carefully for may be related to the Won Ton House owners.

.9. There it is again: Me going to hell in a hand-basket.

I want to be the Black Sheep

The Nutcracker Ballet

As mentioned earlier this week, I was to take my mum to The Nutcracker Ballet as a surprise…and so we have just come home from this absolutely luscious visual experience.

Prior to 7 pm EST, I had never known the story of The Nutcracker and so it was with absolute pleasure that I sat through an entire two hours of complete discovery. It was the Grands Ballets Canadiens company who presented the ballet and for the duration of the production, I couldn’t help but find myself in complete envy of the set design. I want them to decorate my home, these same folks who imagined the set we saw this evening. I also want them to make it completely moveable, so that when the fancy suits me and I want to find myself in the Land of Snow I can clap my hands et voila, I’m there.

One quick note: my favorite character in this production was that of the Black Sheep. She did this really neat trick whereby she would hop up from the floor and land on her knees in the palms of a man’s hands (he was her ‘shepherd’). I want to do that trick.

I believe the following may be the psychotic notes to self such a learning experience would generate:

Note to self: Be graceful when landing on shepherd’s chest.

Note to self: Be careful when falling on shepherd for breaking two of his ribs is quite enough for this week.

Note to self: Stop hollering as you leap forward.

Note to self: Spandex blows.

Note to self: Why hasn’t Tamer Hagras rang me?

Note to self: Just. Stop.

Petitions to have Tamer Hagras 2ukhtubni

.1. As I was waiting in line this morning at Tim Horton’s, I was forced to watch the woman in front of me attempt to order an x-large by motioning and asking:
“Can I have that really big cup of coffee of yours?”
:: insert hand motion to denote wide, rather than large object ::
“The really, really huge cup of coffee?”

The woman behind the counter looked discombobulated and so I offered: “Do you mean the extra large?”
To which the crazy woman hollered “YES!”

Note to you: Imagine her on a game show.

Perhaps she was merely having an off day. I did that once at the A & W counter when I requested “portable ketchup”. Am certain everyone around me thought I a loon.

Note to self: Imagine am on a game show. One that is televised in Cairo and is Tamer Hagras’ favourite game show. Perhaps Tic Tac Cairo, or Cairo Squares, Wheel of Cairo, Cairody, or even The Cairo is Right.

Note to self 2: Have found 14th calling; Go to Cairo, start game show and make millions of dollars. Marry Tamer Hagras.

Note to self 3: Oh. My god. What if Tamer Hagras is already married? (More on this later, maybe. Must do investigative work first.)

.2. I have the first signatory of the "Tamer Hagras Should 2ukhtub (me)" petition which I alone am spearheading: Sami Al-Husseini.

In one of his comments, Sami wrote: "Please Tammer come to Ottawa and propose!!!!"

We shall forgive Sami’s misspelling of Tamer’s name, and am certain Tamer and Sami will like one another once they meet at the wedding.

Also, and although a variation of “2ukhtub”, “propose” functions in the same capacity and one that is binding nonetheless.

.3. Do friendships have expiration dates? What of acquaintanceships? Is there a time limit one can impose on those in front of them before they can chuck them? Deny them? Ignore them? And what of respect and courtesy and being adult and all things nice that we were raised to revere?

.4. Still have not purchased either props nor food for Saturday evening, am running out of time and am seriously lacking any proper hostess-ing skills at the mo.

.5. Spoke with R once again this morning and he was happier than last we spoke. He was on his way to visit Ahmad in Vermont and get him out of jail (they were able to pool together the bail money), where our girls and boys in the immigration offices thought it appropriate to place a terrified refugee seeking shelter.

It made me smile to hear a slight relief in his voice, although Ahmad will still be deported back to the 56 year old refugee camp in Lebanon. Allah yi7meehum and inshallah all of this work being done by the likes of R will pay off if not today, then in the future. Their work is both inspiring and inspired.

.6. As of this morning, I received the mailing addresses of 7 individuals whom I don’t know and who want Holiday greeting cards due to what I blogged a few days back.

.7. I have discovered that boys lie. Men don’t, but boys will always lie. I on the other hand, am an absolutely terrible liar as I become completely anxious, jumbled and convinced that Allah will crush me by unravelling all of my lies in one complete swoop.

.8. My baby cousin may come and stay with us over the Christmas holidays. He is Homer and on his own odyssey and I love him to death because he is a hustling bad-ass with a heart of gold and a mind to match. Any woman would be lucky to have him, and I know that if I were 18 again, I would force him to 2ukhtubni.

This would then allow him to sing:
“Bitloomooneee leh?”
:: ta-ra ::

.9. Considering the kind of strong and brilliant and passionate masculine men who surrounded me throughout my childhood, and in fact, my entire life, it is absolutely no surprise that I am drawn to this same sort of man on this day.

Unfortunately, one too many a man usually blur these lines with hyper machismo, which stopped being attractive when Gerardo quit singing Rico Suave in order to put on a shirt and raise his children.

More on this later, perhaps.

Oh! And let’s not forget that boys will lie. Men won’t, but boys will always lie.

.10. And on that note, I have been trying to flesh out what it is about a man that attracts this particular female and I must say it is quite simple.