Prolific Immigrant

Two of the sexiest belly dance tunes that you simply must download are:

Daret Al Ayam (by: Ro-Je)
&
Zenia (by: Petrol Bomb Samosa)

Holy WOW.

You can find both of these on Electric Oasis: Exotic Arabic Grooves, which I picked up at the HMV on St-Catherine in Montreal. They have an extensive electronica section in the basement; look for camels on the covers of CDs…those will be the ones indicating ‘Arabic’ grooves. Stupid god damn packaging, but killer tunes.

.1. That question should be asked before you attempt to touch anyone’s hair. Or, better still, you really ought to receive an invitation to do so…I would think this could be something especially sexy (or downright creepy, depending on who’s doing the inviting).

A little while back, T and I were at the movie theatre enjoying a film. We were the only ones in our row, and there were either 5 or 6 boys seated directly behind us. Everyone else in the theatre was to the front of us.

I had my hair down and I had it flung over the back of my seat; I was sitting quite low in my seat and so this was the best way for me to be comfortable because my hair is long.

About a half an hour into the movie, I felt something on my hair, but I didn’t think much of it. Not even the second time, about 5 minutes later. The third time I felt a hand slide across my hair; I think the button on the boy’s sleeve tugged on my hair, and so my senses immediately went into overdrive and I figured out what he was doing. He was playing with my hair.

He was unabashedly touching my hair. This boy who I don’t know.

He was only about 16 years old and so, rather than embarrass him I just opted to sit up and pull my hair forward. I was mildly annoyed, but it wasn’t worth making a fuss.

That was the same evening a couple of gummy bears melted between my legs, but I’ll tell you about that some other time (and it’s really neither as perverted nor as unhygienic as it sounds…).

Earlier today, I should have recalled my feeling of “mildly annoyed” with the little boy.

I went out at lunch and was on the escalator in the shopping mall. (Although I think Madonna is crazy and hasn’t released anything worth a proper shit since Like a Prayer, I felt obligated to purchase Confessions on a dance floor.) In front of me was a woman who had the most extraordinarily beautiful weave. It was this long wavy thick black hair and I was mesmerised by it.

For the first 5 steps, I contemplated touching her hair. Honestly, I couldn’t help myself. When we reached the 6th step, I reached out and touched her hair. I petted her. And then a man walked past us on the escalator and looked at me like I was a bewildered mad-woman.

Rather than keeping my mouth shut, I kind of mumbled “It’s so soft”. He smiled, cocked an eyebrow and kept going down the stairs.

She never turned around (probably because she was arguing with her boyfriend “you’re such an asshole!” on her mobile). Lucky me.

.2. T lost 15 pounds. As a joke, she’s being introduced as thus: “This is T. She’s lost 85 pounds.”

She doesn’t think it’s as funny as I do.

.3. Madonna’s back.

Download Sorry…and then download Forbidden Love…

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. A whole lot o’ you keep asking me to open up the Comments field on this blog.

Guess what?

Comments are now open, beginning at Jake ushers me into my Carlsberg years.

Go crazy.

.2. Last night had a great evening with three brilliant and hilarious women. No matter where L is, her place is always home. She has this unique ability to find the most incredibly rustic apartments (& this new one of hers is no exception). As soon as I walked in, I felt as though I had just arrived, at home.

On the way out, R made a good point; that it is L’s Art History major that gives her the talent and the know-how for making any space comfortable to any visitor.

With my strawberry and cinnamon tea, I sat in the rocking chair for our 5 hours of private heaven, our soundtrack being The Best of Bill Evans on Verve (think Chet, but without the vocals). This morning, I woke up thinking: I can’t wait to see these women again, and soon.

.3. One of this generation’s greatest contributions to the world of music is Enigma’s MCMXC a.D. (Limited Edition). No matter where I might be, this CD is always with me, and that’s the way it’s been for the last 14 years.

Le Festival du monde Arabe à Montreal. In particular, try to get to some of the dance & music shows.

It all begins today…

.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).

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

.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.

The Orb’s A Huge Ever Growing Pulsating Brain that Rules from the Centre of the Ultraworld (Orbital Dance Mix).

I don’t usually dig The Orb because their music gives me the heebie-jeebies. But this tune, mixed in this way, is worth finding.

Get Arabian Travels.

Don’t walk. RUN.

Learn about Islam: Zaytuna(dot)Org Podcasts & Audio

All things Trance
Armin van Buuren
Calabash (Fair Trade Music)
Common
DAM
Deep Dish
Down Dog Records
Dzihan & Kamien
Fairouz
GASCD
Guerrilla Funk
Immortal Technique
Les Cowboys Fringants
Loco Locass
Marcel Khalife
Mos Def
Mr. Lif
Natacha Atlas
Outlandish
Ozomatli
Peace Not War Jukebox
Sasha & Digweed
Sheikh Imam
Shiva Space Technology
Simon Shaheen
System of A Down
Talib Kweli
Umm Kulthoum

.1. Exhausted from this weekend, and so these RPNs will be more of an explanation of the wonder that this weekend turned out to be.

.2. 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.

(I 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).

.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!

.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.

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.

Obviously, I have to wear a fkn shower cap to go to 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. Yay.

.7. Hatem4444 is back 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).

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…”. (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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dim-witted, these politicians.

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

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

Night was filled with the friendly faces of people I had not seen in ages, and it was a real treat.

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

Unfortunately, my baba also purchased this gigantic female “Pheronic” head. It’s not slightly large, but rather seriously and troublingly large.

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

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

He made me walk home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Note to you: Tom did no such thing.

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

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

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

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

Point Break taught me that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.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.

.1. It looks like I no longer have the time to pull together more than one solid article a week.

.2. Work is reaching extraordinary expectations and leaving me without much time (last week I put in 12 hours of overtime) for politically-specific brain power in the evenings. Between the long days without lunch, the only thing I look forward to is the gym because it serves as my only release…politics will have to wait until the weekends, and hence the once a week article rule that is now in effect.

.3. I was serenaded today by my taxi driver. He was an Eastern music major in University and decided to turn off the radio and sing me to my destination.

As I was leaving, he said “If you don’t find a man who gonna treat you like the Queen, you got to kick him in the back to the corner. And if I was him I gonna cry like a fool on the corner.” Sadly, I think that may just be the sweet thing I’ve heard in a long time.

.4. Notice the tone of this day’s RPMs is slightly morose. Have had a very taxing couple of weeks, and an even more exhausting week that has yet to end. Am looking forward to tomorrow evening, though, because it’s a dear friend’s bachelorette party and we’ve decided to do it in Montreal.

A much needed weekend of shopping and R & R is ahead of me and I am already digging it.

I’ve been meaning to put up a review of a band we saw at the Tulip Festival, purely by chance.

After watching Honeymoon Suite, and having no interest whatsoever in Trooper (who?), we decided to head over to the Earl of Sussex tent, where we were treated to an absolutely brilliant show by a fabulous Ottawa band named Barrelhouse.

All four of us were completely blown away by the stage presence of every member of the entire band. They had two lead singers, one male and one female…both of whom had crazy pipes. While the woman had this great slow and sexy voice, the lead male just rocked out, having the sort of voice which ranges all over the map, completely hypnotic. He was sitting around during the break and I would have never guessed he was about to let loose on stage.

Honestly, if you’re in Ottawa and you like classic rock…make sure to check out one of their upcoming shows. Actually, if you’re in Ottawa and you don’t really like classic rock, you should still check out one of their shows. They’re really that good.

…but there’s absolutely nothing like a little Zeppelin on a humid night.

“I got two-arrambul…and then eye’m gonna leave ewe…Eye said babay, ewe knouw eye’m gonna leave ewe…babe, babe, babe, babe, babe, babe, baaby, mbaby…”

Maybe I’ll sing that the next time I have to step out of the office, see if anyone is cool enough to start playing serious air-harmonica, mistaking these lyrics for the other excellent Zeppelin tune.

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