Prolific Immigrant

Eeeeep! Tamer Hagras is in a new Arabic soap opera. It’s called…Oh I already forgot. Something about my heart. Or his heart. Or their hearts calling out to one another…

But we don’t care about the title do we? We don’t even care about the script, DO WE? All we care about is that TAMER HAGRAS IS ON OUR TV!

Wow. Am squeeing and speaking in the collective.

And batoota’s cut his hair (el7amd lilah ya3ni) and not grown a mustache (ya habib albi) but he’s not got his saksooka (ya 3eebu) which makes me think I really should send him a little note and ask him to dull that razor of his.

But his web master needs to update those photos STAT ‘cus I really don’t like them. And if anyone’s any measure of anything, I’m the measure of what makes Tamer a sex bomb (wallahi bas bi’sowar ya mama).

Bismilah w mashallah, he is something to behold. And he’s a Scorpio bardu.

Men in my life seem to all be born between Sept 1st and New Year’s Eve. I can’t get away from it. Ergo it’s only natural I love Tamer.

And yes: he is married and has offspring. But he’s allowed to marry three more and I don’t mind standing in line a little longer. Our babies would be so cute’ my brains & his body* AS SOON AS THEY’RE BORN.

batoota — little ducky (a term of endearment in the Arabic language)
el7amd lilah ya3ni — thank God, really
ya habib albi — love of my heart (another common term of endearement)
saksooka — goatee
ya 3eebu — shame on him, but in a cute way
wallahi bas bi’sowar ya mama — I swear only in photos, mum
Bismilah w mashallah — this is a religious turn of phrase you say when you see something beautiful and don’t want to give it the ol evil eye.
bardu — Also.

*Am just teasing. I’m certain he’d contribute many more things to our children…like the “photogenic gene”.

FYI: Whereas Gerry Butler serves as fodder for my North American alter ego, Tamer Hagras does so for the Middle Easterner in me.

This isn’t a joke, but rather a real video from The Hasselhoff.

Hey. Did you know that Coca Cola owns Fruitopia? I just finished drinking my Blueberry Watermelon Wisdom when I discovered Coca Cola written all over the seal. I have a short attention span. I like pink.

.1. In preparation for St. Patrick’s Day celebration, have been listening to The Latino Bisexual.

Some call him Ricky Martin.

The fast tracks on his new CD (released Oct ’05) Life are bum-shaking awesome. I encourage you to dl ”I Am”; it’s one of the best & most mindless songs I’ve heard in a long time.

The Latino Bisexual was among my first celebrity crunches. I was 9 and he was 12 (he was so old) and I didn’t understand Spanish but I understood “pretty”, and he was just that. With his soft feathered hair and big puppy dog eyes, he reminded me of my stuffed animals and so I was under direct obligation to crunch on him.

If only innocence remained as such…

.2. But with age comes attraction to foxes like Gerry Butler:

Who recently finished shooting 300 (in Montreal) where he wears a leather Speedo for the duration of the film. In his leather Speedo, Gerry Butler looks like this:

& like this:

Which is fine…but personally, I prefer it when Gerry Butler does the robot (& as this photo clearly illustrates, he does so well).

.3. Yesterday, I purchased a t-shirt that reads: Nerds need love too. Now I just need a hoodie with D.O.R.K. emblazoned on the back. If anyone finds one, please let me know.

.4. T has taken the day off work today and is heading out to the Heart & Crown at 1 p.m. to begin St. Patrick’s Day celebration. I’ll be joining her closer to 5 once I leave the office. Am feeling quite festive today and so decided to wear my green Care Bears t-shirt with a shamrock toting Care Bear and Lucky written on it.

I’ve not bothered with an actual St. Patrick’s Day celebration for the last few years; the closest I came was at the Montreal parade three years back, when I was accosted by a drunken Irish guy who wouldn’t let me walk away until I agreed to wear a headband that had two huge sparkly green shamrocks springing from it. They were heavy and every time I moved, it felt as though my entire head was bouncing.

I eventually forgot that I was wearing it and so kept it on for hours.

This year should bring interesting stories, memories & photos. Shall post whatever happens later tonight (I expect to be home relatively early as the girls are starting at 1 and most likely close to finishing by the time I arrive. Chances are, I’ll be stuffing them in to a cab by 7 or 8).

.4. Am uncertain as to how I forgot, but one of the most important memories from Denver is The Jesus. The Jesus who said: “…I’ll pull the fucking trigger ’til it goes “click””, which is one of the funniest and most ridiculous lines in the history of film.

I was laying down when I heard it and laughed so hard that I almost choked.

Check this out! It’s just. Wow. WOW.

I wonder if they’ll let me join…I could work a purple body suit & a hairnet. But my body suit will read: “Mohammed”. And then I’ll get killed. Because it’s in Texas. Where they don’t like Islamics.

I’m goin’ to hell. But at least I’ll have a purple body suit.

.1. I’m back and at level II. I can do a pretty mean speed bag.

And “no”, my wraps aren’t red.

.2. Eep! This will be held against me, I know. I LOVE PAUL WALKER. Is there rehab for this?

I watched Into the Blue twice. That’s how much I actually loved this film.

And for the record: Jessica Alba has a great bum. So too does Paul, though. And lucky for them that their bodies are so accomplished because their acting talent is so not.

You should still see the movie. Paul looks fabulous without a shirt on.

.3. Jack Black is Nacho Libre and he may just rival Gerry Butler in this girl’s books. The trailer for Nacho Libre actually nearly made me wet myself.

Uncertain as to whether this is because of Jack Black’s hair, his accent, the ‘training’ pants you see below or the white pants…you have to see it to believe it.

You’ll snort. Because it’s that funny.

.4. I was eating pizza during a lunch meeting the other day. On this pizza were onions. I was wearing my black velvet blazer.

Beginning to speak was the fellow Manager seated next to me. Because am unfamiliar with my own history, I chose that moment to take a bite from my pizza.

And that’s when several (& only) pieces of onion decided to make the great escape (Vive la Liberte!), via the sleeve of my velvet jacket. I was a little shocked by the feeling of the onions against my skin and so chances are, I may have potentially did some sort of a dance in my seat. Because everyone – including the aforementioned Speaker Of The Moment – stopped and stared.

I tried to explain. As I fished for the onions out of my sleeve. Which I couldn’t get at, because my jacket is lined with satin and so the onions kept slipping away farther and farther. That I was vertical meant they couldn’t hide in my armpit…but they probably didn’t know that because they’re onions and onions don’t think like humans.

So. There I am fumbling when I finally have no choice but to take off my jacket in search of the vagrant onions. Only to find nothing. Anywhere. Not in my sleeve, or in my pocket, or in my hair, or on the ground, or even in my mouth. Everyone in the meeting was searching for the missing onions, until someone said “But. There were no onions on the pizza.” like a Valley Girl and so it really sounded like “Uhm, duuuh? Like, there were noooo onions on the pizza? Oh my god?”

And so to her tone of voice I responded with “Listen Bitch, there were onions on my slice of pizza. I’m not hallucinating, you cow. I didn’t just make up the fact that some god damn pieces of onion FLEW INTO my sleeve through the NON EXISTENT window. Retard.” But it sounded more like “Uhm, ok. Maybe I made a mistake. Thanks.”

There were onions. For real. They’ll turn up sooner or later.

Remember my friend Charlie…

Well, I forgot to mention this, but he is on a reality (noooooooooooooooooo, Charlie!) television show in the U.K. It is called Space Cadets and looks to be absolutely hilarious (although I do hate reality television and would never watch it in a million years, no matter how much I like the participant in question). Take a peek and enjoy the mayhem.

I will tell you this much: I read the premise of this and thought it hilarious (& wickedly cruel).

Charlie is the third one in from the right; I do hope no one disliked him, he’s such a lovely boy in person…and I want him to marry Hannah.

.1. This is why U2 should only be seen in Montreal.

During the entire show on Friday night, T & I were quite aware of the difference in delivery and reception between the band and the crowd.

I think it’s because of Montreal’s political world and their complete embrace of everything inspired, politically, by U2.

Next tour, I’m going back to Montreal > but, for the final show, rather than the first. Don’t you know? It’s always better the second time around.

.2. Am thinking of going elsewhere to work with the United Nations.

Will keep y’all posted…and eventually explain why am in such a mood…

T, K, D & I went to U2 last night.

When I landed in Ireland, the first place I went to was The U2 Wall. I got lost, but a really nice taxi driver took me and refused to accept payment. God, I love Ireland.

If unfamiliar with The U2 Wall, here’s a small blip: ” The U2 Wall is located down an alley way near the docksides on the south side of the Liffey. Marked only with a small plaque, the grafitti covered crumbling walls mark the now vacant Windmill Lane Studios where U2 recorded their early albums in the late 1970s”. My addition to The Wall was: ”You began as the call to one generation and have since become the voice of all that followed. Thank you.”

I hadn’t known what I was going to write, and the fact that I got lost gave me a little more time to think…

Last we saw U2 was during their Elevation Tour, the final night they performed in Montreal. That show was insane because for nearly 60% of it, no one could hear Bono because the crowd was singing so loud. He kept removing his earplugs and laughing.

When he was later asked which of the venues was the loudest and craziest, he said it was the night they played the last show in Montreal. We couldn’t speak for days after that show…

Anyway. Arcade Fire (whose name I originally misheard as ‘Our Gay Fire’) opened, and although I like the punk edge of their music, I am curious as to how they got together, and what their jam sessions are like. Watch them perform, and you’ll understand my curiosity. They’re a local Montreal band worth catching, and they’re opening again tonight and Monday (in Montreal).

When the lights went down, in preparation for U2’s entrance and we were watching the stage waiting for them to come out, I actually felt as though I were going to explode. The sound was deafening, in anticipation of their arrival and the energy within the Centre was absolutely electric.

Within our section, I was one of five other people on my feet nearly the entire time. At certain points, T & K would stand up…but it was predominantly me, and it was great! At one point, though, I almost climbed over the chairs in front of me to join the other four who were equally rocking out, but they were a little weird.

It’s a U2 concert…how can people remain seated?

The visual of the concert was pure funk. The experience left me teetering between: Feeling as though I were inside of an arcade that had crashed into a lava lamp and / or standing inside one light that’s part of a light show in a Japanese disco. Either one was super cool.

Apart from the regular brilliant performances of Mysterious Ways, Where the Streets Have No Name and Sunday Bloody Sunday, there were a few others which stood out…

I have to say that Original of the Species and A Man and a Woman possess some of U2’s top lyrical content and are reminiscent of their work on Achtung Baby. Listening to their performance live was incredible.

They did a spectacular rendition of One with a lot more guitar, making it sound more bluesy. It’s always been a lazy / lounge song for me, but listening to them perform it the way they did, I was forced to sit down, close my eyes and get lost in the guitar.

The ending of the show was equally unique, with each one of them leaving individually and their screen images fading out. Bono left first, then Adam, the Edge and finally Larry. While Larry was the last one on stage, he pounded out the craziest beats and the crowd went wild. Pardon me while I gush here for a moment; Larry Mullen Jr will always be a fox. He’ll be 78 years old, and a fox. He has the world’s best upper body, and his forearms are. Just. Perfect.

As much as I love Bono, Larry is the definitive of cool. Probably because his controlled exterior looks like it’s always on the edge of exploding wide open. But it never does.

After coming home, I couldn’t help but think about the wonder of it. These four boys from Dublin who started as a little punk band and who are, now, to me and so many others, the quintessential band of several generations the world over.

Stadiums in almost every part of this tiny globe erupt when these four men come on stage.

And when all is said and done, they go home to be dads and husbands.

Wow.

…is not the man who said this:

“You know how a little girl cannot be a woman but a woman can be a little girl? That’s a quality I like.”
- Matthew McConaughey

T just sent me that quote and although it makes me weak at the knees, I still wouldn’t give it up for Matthew. But I do love him.

D took us to Just For Laughs show this evening. I was excited to attend because I absolutely. Adore…

Shaun Majumder.

He was the host and…then there were:
.1. Scott Faulconbridge:He likes to wear diapers on his head. My dad could use to learn from him. And…he received the biggest laugh from me when he was discussing male shrinkage in cold water and ended with “…In cold water, I have a vagina…”
.2. Rod ‘Rodman’ Thompson:His wife must adore him and I thought he was hysterical, most especially when he was talking to Whitie in the front row, saying he probably didn’t understand him.
.3. Rocky LaPorte:I almost passed out because I was laughing so hard and forgot to breath.
.4. Carl Barron: An Australian dude who spoke his own special language and has forever affected the way I wear flip flops.
.5. Ryan Belleville: A Canadian boy living in L.A. (whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?!) who pretty much killed me. This guy’s energy level is insane and I almost collapsed a lung.

But I was there for Shaun.

I still remember the first time I saw him; he was wearing a baby bonnet and seated in a baby seat for some comedy skit. An image I couldn’t erase while we were chatting later. Frankly, there’s not too many men who would leave me wanting more if the baby bonnet were the first impression…make certain you listen to the sound clips at the bottom of his page; I almost wet myself listening to Learning Chinese.

Here we are backstage (This photo was taken right after he forced me to hold his grapes (fascist!))…

He may be an excellent comedian but he is a shit blogger. GET BLOGGING, SHAUN! (& erm. Will gladly hold your grapes any day.)

Oh! Make certain you catch the Just for Laughs show when it comes to your area (they went to Moncton…apparently, they’ll go anywhere…)

This coming Monday, on November 7th, Booker Sim will have his NYC premiere of Tragedy: The Story of Queensbridge.

I honestly wish I could be there. First and foremost because Booker is such a nice guy and one worthy of support (not my opinion alone) and because Tragedy Khadafi is brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

Am listening to Still Reporting right now.

And…for the record, I love the new poster for the documentary. The older version, with the gun had no essence of hope to it. He’s praying in this one, since his hands are positioned proper for Muslim du’a (prayer). I got goose bumps when I saw the new poster; it’s a much more powerful image than the previous. Job well done (Bravo!).

.1. I work with Fernando. Every time I run into him, I want to pull on white bellbottoms, dance and sing “Are the stars bright, Fernando?”

Even when seated in meetings, I want to do this.

.2. Three more days until am 31.

Do hope that should Tamer Hagras not be able to 2ukhtubni, on the occasion of my 31st birthday, he will at least send me flowers.

.3. Pick up Dzihan & Kamien‘s “Fakes”. It’s an excellent double CD and Track 2 on CD 1 (Homelands) will make you want to turn off the lights, blast the music and ignore the world.

GODSPEED!

.4. Dinner with dad was excellent. He’s contemplating purchasing a summer flat in either Beirut or Cyprus, which would be so much fun! I love it when he decides to throw money around so casually.

He’s a big property man, and so he tried to convince me to buy something in Montreal. But, I’d rather just let him do it, which he will…eventually.

.5. Recall the Gigantic Pheronic Head daddy won at the silent auction last year. At dinner, he asked me if I wanted it.

I declined and didn’t even bother hiding my horror at his query.

I recommended he return it to CEPAL on the anniversary of the auction, telling them they could re-auction it.

This way, I’ll never inherit it.

I love you, ya baba.

.6. I am going to Hell (staghfara Allah al3azeem) because I find things like this funny:

Philosophically, due to our human nature to fault, this is an impossibility; we can never “stop” (the goal is to be in a constant state of trying to stop). If we could “stop” sinning, we wouldn’t be human…

The sign really should read: Try to cool it. I know it’s hard, but just give it a shot every once in a while. You’ll sin because you’re human and you can be a real idiot sometimes. Maybe even most of the time. It’s inevitable; just try to do it at varying intervals in your life and when you do…just you know.

Hell. (& at 600 miles an hour is how fast I’ll be going).

Don’t let this blog fool you; don’t think you know me.

.1. A ‘WORD UP’ to Maura as she gave me a heart attack and a serious shout out on her live journal. It is huge and it nearly made me cry. I am sporting Tony Curran’s hat, which is sort of funny. He called me ‘Palestine’ for the duration of our conversation…and so I was left with no choice but to ring back with ‘Scotland’. He has very unique eyebrows and is surprisingly tall. There is something about Scots men and height. They have a lot of it.

This is a nice thing when one is in search of shelter and protection from strong winds and torrential down pour.

.4. My dad’s invited me over for dinner this evening. He was going to cook something for me.

Oh my God.

I love my dad…but he is no culinary master (do hope he thinks my life too boring to check this blog). In fact, he owns one of those grilling things that you plug into the wall and then throw chicken on to. Without spice. Without sauce. Without flavour.

When we made plans he chimed in with an excited “I’ll make pasta and grilled chicken!”. I had no choice but to counter with “NO! You rest. I’ll cook and you don’t have to worry about anything,” as sweetly and as convincingly as possible. My life was at stake.

Now, I must cook. Something. And apparently, “coffee” isn’t considered a viable option. Who knew?

.5. A friend recently gave me a copy of some freaky astrology book about the compatibility of signs. As I am a Libra, will post on a per sign basis, what it is that will draw you to me (e.g. should you be Aries, you will be drawn to me because…etc.)

.6. Have recently discovered that the love of my life – Tamer Hagras – is married and has procreated (as if marriage weren’t enough!). Although I don’t mind being a durrah, and only for Tamer, I am slightly distraught by this news. But his web site has been revamped and there’s a slew of new photos. This shall keep me satiated for some time.

Also, he is a Scorpio which explains why I am inexplicably drawn to him (although: his height, body type, and face may be the more obvious reasons) and would have made him my ideal match according to above mentioned book *thank you Ms. Goodman. Although am a Libra, was born under a Scorpio moon and so this is supposed to explain my temperament and why I am constantly drawn to the alpha of the Scorpio. Damn them, the Scorps!

At least my father isn’t a Scorpio. That would have been creepy.

Someone asked me earlier today: “What sort of man would you like to marry?”

The most honest answer I could give was someone like our old friend Cat Stevens, now Yusuf Islam. This man is so articulate and aware and totally at ease with his life and his surroundings. He is, for me at least, kind of ideal.

I think the two most intriguing (& what draws me) characteristics about this man are: (1) the darker parts of his life which have guided him to where he is today (I am not all that seduced by someone who has always been on the ‘right path’); and, (2) the strength of character and personality it would take to move from Cat Stevens to Yusuf Islam. The ability to walk away from a life so seductive and so rampant with temptation is perhaps the most unambiguously masculine of what makes him attractive.

Have just completed another week of work outside of Ottawa; uneventful as usual, but work went well (although cutting into holiday time). Except for today, the weather has been absolutely gorgeous.

Came in to NYC at a little past 6 and the city is drenched in rain remnants from Rita (or as E is saying ‘fucking Rita’). She keeps hitting me in the head with her umbrella and so I’m left with no choice but to say ‘fucking E’. Lucky for her I can find the humor in anything…

In the airport, I saw Roch Voisine. Of all the airports in all the…

Also, Booker Sim was on my flight. He just completed working on a documentary about Canada’s Security Certificates with Alexandre Trudeau. He is now completing work on Tragedy: The Story of Queensbridge…which is really quite a nice coincidence because I think Khadafi is one of this generation’s rap geniuses. Graciously, he offered to send me a copy of the documentary when it is completed. Should it hit a festival in either Ottawa or Montreal, will post.

Our apartment is gorgeous and clean and in a perfect part of NYC, only moments away from the Met (on foot!).

Considering I haven’t vacationed since…a couple of weeks ago…this should be a real treat.

xoxo

While there, met several interesting actors; my favorite run in was with Kim Coates. He’s a Saskatchewan boy currently making a Cronenberg (spelling?) film about werewolves. We sat together for a good 20 minutes and killed ourselves laughing from start to finish. I honestly don’t understand why he’s not done comedy up until this point, as he is hilarious. He actually had me doubled over in fits of hysteria, with tears rolling down my face.

He’s married with two daughters and so you should all get your minds out of the gutter…

Google him, and watch his films, he’s worth it…if for no other reason than he was genuinely wonderful company.

.1.T just celebrated her birthday and has officially become the first of us girls to enter our Carlsberg Years.

.2. Speaking of which, I am starting to notice a change in my own life as I approach the official entry in to…

For example, saw ‘Must Love Dogs’ and noticed something. It was called ‘Jake’.

Found myself mysteriously and tremendously drawn to the character. Do believe it has everything to do with the fact that his lines very nearly made me collapse a lung.

Erm. Think I should be wooed by the scriptwriter rather than the character?

Perhaps; but only if the writer is 6′something”, with a circle for a mouth and is at his sexiest with floppy hair and in an inviting sweater.

Aside: If a man can make me laugh hysterically, they are halfway to ensuring shall hide around corners and follow them about (with a toothbrush & a lamp…because you just never know).

Just kidding.

Not really.

Well, ok, I am.

(Anyway, Jake = John I-too-would-force-him-to-pull-over-and-let-me-drive-and-have-I-mentioned-he-can-wear-the-shit-out-of-a-sweater? Cusack.)

.3. In the film ‘Must Love Dogs’ aforementioned Fox meets Diane Lane via on-line dating. We were discussing what we would place as our…handle…call sign…that one-liner that’s supposed to get men’s (in my case, anyway) attention.

I said mine would read: “Daddy?”

No one thought that was remotely funny.

I, on the other hand, am still laughing…and people on the street are starting to stare.

.1. Scotland can only be described as voluptuous. It is a beautiful country and these were the stops: Glasgow, Edinburgh, Linlithgow (I kept calling Mary: Quary Mean of Scots, by accident), North Berwick, Fidra Island (where I saw puffins and seals), Loch Awe and the surrounding areas, Oban, Isle of Mull, Iona (recommend you visit and take a dip in the waters), Kilmartin (where hanging out with sheep is really exciting because they jump. A lot.), & Paisley (the mantra is: ‘Don’t go after dark’).

One of my favorite moments occurred in Kilmartin. The town only has approximately 15 homes and our B & B was at the tip. By 10 p.m. all of the lights are out. On the first night there, the moon was hidden and there wasn’t a single cloud; I was already in bed when I noticed that what lay outside my window was something I’d never seen before, neither to that extreme or with such clarity.

In the pitch black, the sky looked as though it had exploded with thousands of gold lights. I was hanging out of the window, backwards and almost parallel to the earth, staring at the immense depth and enormity of God’s sky. I’ve always known this, but I’d never seen it until that moment: We’re so tiny compared to it all.

Before I could fall out of the 2nd story window, decided to pull myself back in and stare at the sky from bed. Didn’t get much sleep that night but it was well worth it.

That’s all you need to know about my personal life.

.2. Considering the landscapes to which I’ve been drawn in the last couple of years, I think I have to head in the exact opposite direction, and soon. My dream holiday, somewhere lost in Africa, should really be my focus but…I don’t want to do that trip as a singleton. Not sure what’s next on the agenda.

.3. Am already a bit sad to be home, but really looking forward to the next two months as I should be spending quite a bit of time at both the Montreal & Toronto film festivals, and then a short few days in NYC to relax. If you can, I recommend you catch the world premiere of Beowulf & Grendel in Toronto. OH! And then there’s the U2 concert in November. And then snow.

.1. Srebrenica.

.2. I hope everyone has had…a relatively calm weekend. All friends and family are well in the UK; have spoken with everyone and am looking forward to getting over there at the end of the month. Am also very excited that will see one of my oldest celebrity crushes – Val Kilmer (shut up!) – on the last night of his play in the West End. Understand he is a wee bit more bloated than when I last swooned (somewhere between Ice Man and The Saint) but am still excited as it is Val Kilmer.

Itinerary is as follows >> Will be in Scotland laying in the grass and staring over cliffs to drown my imagination in the sea.

Then. I will jump on an airplane, fly down to London for an approximate 18 hours, during which I will meet Hannah for the play, eat dinner at The Ivy, stay awake chatting about nonsense and all sense until I jump back on another plane to head back to Glasgow…

Pretentious, isn’t it?

.3. Months back, I mentioned Sophie – the wife of Mohamed Harkat, one of the four men being detained without charge under the guise of the ‘Security’ Certificate issued in order to…erm…to…keep Canada ‘safe’. Recall that the fifth man, Adil Charkaoui, at whose bail hearing we were last, is not being detained, per se, but is residing under restrictions fit for someone guilty of drugging, raping, torturing and murdering some young girls (but then again, Homolka has no alleged ties with Al Qaeda and so she can’t possibly be that bad).

Right. So Sophie and I have been conversing for the last couple of months and although having run into one another at several events, we are finally going to sit together tomorrow evening. I have already sent her some rather intimate questions as I am interested in writing about the impact of the ‘Security’ Certificates on her, as a woman, and not on her, as someone who was chosen by history to be some sort of activist.

Also, Tuesday evening will be another night spent with her, well…actually, it will be a night spent watching her, and so I hope to have the article written by some time next week.

.4. I will keep plugging away at deleting Bob’s comments (Laura & Jez, I was forced to repost your comments, hence the odd time stamp!), all the while keeping only the one comment section on so as to get a sense of the work involved in dealing with Bob.

.1. Greetings. Am currently buried under a bank of sand, which is a great improvement from being buried under a bank of snow as I was a mere 48 hours ago. Vacation is looking to be très excellent, Alhamdullilah.

Woke up a little later than planned at about 10:45 this a.m.. There is neither the heat nor the humidity I was expecting. Weather was a little chill and most welcome considering what my expectations were. K’s place is brilliant and with a most gorgeous view of the blue Gulf waters.

A little below my window is the rooftop pool of our neighbouring apartment; If the windows could open up, I would’ve attempted a flying leap into the man made crystal blues.

.2. If you’re a caffeine lover, the Middle East is where you must head next. The sweet tea and coffees here are no holds barred. They will kick you in the ass while they wink and flirt. It’s kind of perfect, actually.

.3. Between Dubai and Abu Dhabi is the same distance from Ottawa to Montreal. The difference is that in between these cities you find much desert, camels and what one can only describe as mansions, maybe even ‘castles’.

Beautiful is that between ever few kilometres, you are greeted with a mosque.

.4. I placed special oil in my carry-on. I was worried that would I place it in the actual luggage, it would spill and make a mess of things.

Unfortunately for me, it did spill; and worse still, it did so on the only item that could actually absorb it and be ruined. The exquisite little blue suede book that A brought back for me when he went to Sweden is now a little greasy. I’ve put a ton of baby powder on and hope that it will suck the oil right out.

.5. Since my arrival, have been dumbfounded by their love of Hollywood celebrity F. Murray Abraham, for his photo rests on every corner of this beautiful city. Much to my chagrin – and that of my imagination’s – I quickly found out that the photos covering these cities are those of Sheik Zayed, and not F. Murray Abraham. Imagine Abraham’s sadness at this news?

Compare for yourselves:

.6. Every one here owns a mobile phone with a headset. Am convinced that even those who do not own a mobile, own a headset, tuck it into their pockets and pretend to speak on imaginary mobile.

.7. Must be careful for there is a great possibility that I shall get hit by a massive Land Cruiser or Hummer while I am in this part of the world. Most of the time, they are all rather busy speaking into their headpieces and so the road is a mere nuisance and deterrent from said mobile.

.8. The men here all wear traditional head gear and outfits: Jalaleeb. They are all crispy white clean, and am convinced they use Tide with Bleach (a most excellent brand. But not for black.)

.9. Am considering tugging on a man’s head gear and seeing the effect of experiment. May consider wearing running shoes so as to run away as fast I can if the reaction to experiment is drastic.

.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.

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.

.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.

.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 on his belly, completely 6’3” sprawled out. Reminded me of me.

.5. 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’?

.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 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.

Clearly, I watch too much film.

.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).

.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.

Hope I don’t singe my 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.

.1. Saw Colin Farrell on the Ellen show today and I was rather impressed with how many 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.

It was difficult to hear R’s voice, because I sensed the complete disillusionment in the one person I go to for strength.

.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.

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.

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 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 experienced severe hair issues throughout the entire film.

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

.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. 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.

.3. 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.

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

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

.6. I have to go “brush”.

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.

.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. I blame 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.

For the last few nights, mom and I have been watching a Syrian television show called “Illit Zo2 W Kitrit Ghalabeh” and I think I have fallen in love with the actor named Qusay Khouly.

It’s not that he’s a babe by our regular standards, it’s that he is an absolute doll in this roll. And since beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I’ll say that I think he’s beautiful. I’m blushing.

In the show he marries Lou Lou and how I wish I were her! Every time I see him, I want to squeeze him until he stops breathing…that’s how much I adore my little قصي خولي, Allah yishwee.

The sad thing is no one knows him; none of our friends – Syrian or otherwise – have ever heard of him. And apparently, the internet is not someplace to find anything on this man. I can’t find a single hit about him in either Arabic or English. I am left with absolutely nothing; not even a photo I can share with you. You’ll just have to take my word for it, and I promise to keep you posted as to this brilliant actor’s progress. I have no doubt he will be one of my generation’s most celebrated actors. For reals.

As a joke, for my birthday last year, L took an ad from her store and gifted me ‘The Man’ (one very talented individual). When I went to visit her one evening, I saw The Man and nearly fell over a rack of scarves staring at the enormity of the ad. At that moment she decided that she would coerce her superiors into letting her have it and then humiliating me in our favorite birthday restaurant as I unfurled Him.

The joke, but really the reality of it, was that this 1-D photo should serve as ‘The Man’ to usher me out of my twenties.

We started calling him 1-D because there’s absolutely nothing real about him.

So. Poor little 1-D has been rolled up and sitting in the back of my closet for the last 11 months. What in the hell else was I supposed to do with him?

And then it occurred to me that there are in fact women who would make use of 1-D, maybe even believing he was 2 or possibly 3-D. They would glue him to the ceiling of their bedroom, maybe drape him over their bed, take him out for dinner, roll him over to the movies. Whatever. Point is, there are women who would be much kinder and gentler to 1-D than I have been in the last year, sticking him in the back of my closet.

Mind you, I allowed him to tangle himself up in my silks, lace and straps, something no other man can claim. If anything, 1-D should be grateful that he broke new ground, recognizing that he is one lucky son of a bitch. But who am I kidding; this is the most action I’ve ever had…

Anyway. Keeping the above women in mind, I decided to send 1-D to 1-D heaven where some lucky woman will soon be in the throws of passion with him. I doubt he’ll be breaking new ground with her (as he was with me, as I am exquisitely unique), so I expect he will maintain fond memories of his time in my closet.

Am off to shop so as to fill in the newly acquired space in my wardrobe.

Crushed by the news that Nic & Tom split? Wish you could possess Angelina’s siren ways? Convinced the only reason George hasn’t married again is because he’s not had the pleasure of meeting you (no matter the man you are dating)?

Recently, British scientists at the University of Leicester offered up an actual term for the fun and good times many of us spend listening to ‘news reports’ from E! Online, Entertainment Tonight, and Star. They have labelled it Celebrity Worship Syndrome, a bona fide disorder.

Laid out are the following symptoms as reflected in the affliction’s level (mild, moderate, and absolute loon). As though most of us don’t have enough problems as is, now one in every three of us are also officially “afflicted” (Congratulations!).

Out of an approximate 700 individuals studied, the mildly afflicted were the most numerous (but afflicted nonetheless), coming in at 250 (Bravo!, I say). These individuals are usually quite extroverted and rather chatty and engaging in their love of celebrity. Most annoying about the mildly afflicted is their inclination to hijack any conversation so as to insert a reference about their chosen celebrity of worship. As you tell your girlfriends about your upcoming trip to South Africa as a volunteer with a non-profit organization working with HIV infected children, this girl will inform you that “Like, Oh My GOD! Matthew McConaughey was JUST in the jungle and he totally loved it! Am certain you’ll have a brilliant time, like him! Is the jungle near where you’re going? Pass me the dip, please.” This girl rang you in hysterics when Jude and Sadie broke up “…because they just seemed like the perfect couple, and if they can’t make it, HOW CAN [SHE]?”

I advise that, where possible, you tell this girl to get some semblance of a life, possibly writing scripts, performing stand up, or pursuing a job as a Producer. She may as well make both good use of, and good money from her charm and mild affliction. I would also advise that you not take her home for the holidays.

The second echelon came in at an astounding 155 of the 700 studied. This is where things get a wee bit weird and the creeps start coming out of the woodwork. The moderately afflicted believe they have some form of personal relationship with their celebrity of choice. It is this girl who refers to “the correspondence [she is] having with Matt Damon” when she is in fact referring to the 17 signed photos she holds of him (which she requested, via his fan club). This girl, although somewhat social, doesn’t have all that many friends and would rather stay home watching him on The Late Show than come out for dinner.

I advise that you steer clear of this girl because if you accidentally spill your cola on her People Magazine, she shall berate you for your insensitivity since “…this is the one with the photo of Matt reading my letter. I recognize the 8.5 x 11 inch white paper that I wrote my letter on!” Remember, the moderately afflicted are likely on a slippery slope to the third and most troubling of stages in this affliction.

The third tier, that of the absolute loon, was found among only 15 of the 700 studied. These freaks feel they genuinely “have a special bond with their celebrity, believe their celebrity knows them and are prepared to lie or even die for their hero.” This girl is the one who was found in Brad Pitt’s bedroom, wearing his clothes and rolling around on his bed. This girl is nothing short of a pathological stalker for she is solitary, impulsive, anti-social, insensitive and “troublesome”.

If you are seated next to this girl at the next showing of The Saint, she is likely to start yelling (while crying) at those seated in front because “[they] are assholes for talking while VAL’S ON THE SCREEN”, then I strongly encourage you to run, move and change both your e-mail address and your telephone number.

Some academics blame celebrity mania for robbing us of dignity, contaminating our motivations and manipulating and neglecting our goals and priorities. What they fail to recognize is that this ‘mania’ is not brought on by celebrity, rather celebrity is brought on by this mania. For us to conclude otherwise would allow us to relinquish our will and power to overcome the mania.

Among the reasons for this new disorder is the decline in extended families and communities. When many of us are sad, we no longer turn to our neighbour, sister or friend. Instead, we rent a film or pick up US in order to escape our lives. We have actively shifted our focus away from all that we once held dear and have instead chosen to fixate on items beyond our reach, people of no real consequence in our lives, ideas and memories that do not belong to our own individually and exquisitely lived lives.

By our own hand, many of us turn to celebrities to escape our otherwise ‘normal’ lives; lives rendered ‘normal’ only because our counterpart, the celebrity, appears to live in the world of glamour and excitement. You may look at Keanu Reeves and think he has the perfect life, believing that were you to become a part of it, that perfection would somehow make you a much happier individual.

I hate to be the one who breaks this to you, but chances are that Keanu’s life is probably a mess. Considering the lifestyle, I would not be surprised to learn that the word ‘trust’ is not afforded much luxury in their regular lexicon. The few who qualify as celebrities exist in a realm where nothing is real, where relationships are plastic and where they are always wondering ‘Do they like me for who I am or for what I represent? The money I have? The people I know?’ What an ugly scenario that is, and what a terribly lonely place it must be.

Does this mean I feel sorry for celebrity? For some, I most definitely do…but only those I perceive as being conflicted about the world in which they live. I believe these ones are uncertain of whether they even want celebrity status, and some of them may actively turn away from it should they receive it.

As if never standing on solid ground weren’t enough, imagine the lack of privacy and solitude when one can not touch their lover intimately in public lest it be caught on camera. Worse still, there are those celebrities who refuse to even become involved for fear it may translate poorly on their career. In this society, Celebrity equals fantasy and much of that is rooted in sexuality; to be married or otherwise involved usually means that potential (i.e. Celebrity bedding you) no longer exists. Many in Hollywood are coached to lie when asked such questions, told to offer three simple sound bytes: I am single, I am straight, and I am in search of true love.

Do you really want a part of that life?

Granted, there are some celebrities who refuse to toe this line. For the most part, these are the ones who remain close to their families and old friends, and are fiercely loyal to themselves, their ideals and their principles. Should they fall in love, they would not fear it nor be ashamed of it because they hold enough confidence in themselves and their acting ability to let it stand on its own (isn’t that why they are thesps, anyway; out of love for the art itself?).

But what do I know, I’ve never dated a Celebrity.

It is crucial to recognise that we live at a time where interest in religion is wanting, where the heavens are of no real use or concern and are no longer inhabited by Zeus or Allah. It was God who once helped many of us ‘get through’, a role that many of us have now extended to and honour celebrities with. It is by no coincidence that we call celebrities ‘Stars’.

And so for this reason, I ask you to relinquish your love of celebrity, if only for this next month. Next you want to visit your favourite celebrity’s web site, rent his movie, or watch Entertainment Tonight, STOP! Instead, ring up your best friend and ask her out for coffee, take a hot bath and consider where you will next vacation, volunteer with a local charity organization, list all of your dreams and goals, bake a cake and leave it with your neighbour, pay attention to your little girl and the man in your bed. Ultimately, channel the interest you hold in the lives of celebrity into your own life, because celebrity is the counterfeit of your exquisite and unique life.

That we have given this woman a television show of her own? At exactly what point in history (contemporary or otherwise) did we, as a society, actually lose it and become so degenerate that we think someone of this vacuous inconsequential manner is worthy of anything, let alone our time?

This is Paris Hilton* and if you let her, she will, on a weekly basis, steal one half hour of your life which you can never get it back and you will not be able to sue her:

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, like 45 minutes away from, like, civilization and it’s, like, all real. It’s, like, really cold and last night we were shooting at this sugar mill and it really smelled bad. And I didn’t wear shoes, like, I don’t know.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere and there’s bugs everywhere. Everything’s real. I’m actually running through a forest with bare feet — it hurts. I’ve done my own stunts, like falling. I hurt my knee — it was bleeding. But it looks good, so it’s worth it.”

“I definitely think people are going to be, like, looking at me more than they would if I wasn’t, like, so . . . I can’t explain it. But I do a good job and I’m really looking forward to people seeing I’m good. It’s not fair but life’s not fair, so . . .”

This is one individual I would love to see in the middle of any refugee camp. Can we send her to any part of South Africa? Or any of the camps in the Middle East? Ok. Maybe somewhere in Bosnia? Please? I’d love to see her do her own stunts.

Right. So this is where I get to be stupid and foolish, all the while writing out some bits about politics…

Feel the need to let you know that I have a running fascination with Britney (she’s toxic), Donald Trump (forgive me), warm milk (I really don’t know what to say), a guy named Charlie and a girl named Hannah.

Will be back later to write something interesting and worthy of your attention.

xo