Sunday, April 22, 2007

Those naughty mannequins...again!

I’ve pasted below an article from today’s GDN…I have commented (in italics) on each thing that was caught by my short unimpressed attention span.

THE MUHARRAQ Municipal Council has initiated a crackdown on what it claims are sexually explicit posters and provocatively dressed mannequins.

(those slutty mannequins, when are they going to learn that, that is not the best way to catch a decent man. I mean isn’t it enough that they’re cold and unflexible?? Now to tarnish their questionable reputations, they’re featured in the press as part of a moral crackdown. They’re never gonna meet “wild il halal” now…)

Chairman Mohammed Jassim Saleh Hamada said the council had received many complaints from residents, especially women, who believe that these fly in the face of their traditional values.

(Who’s flying what in whose face? Sample complaint: “That bitch, just stood there all headless and hot and stole my husband from me. After 2o years together, last night he told me I was too bendy for his taste and ordered me to stand still by the window! Home wrecker!!!”)

While the council's rules against sexually explicit displays have been in place for a long time, Mr Hamada said implementation has been lax.

(Using the word lax, reminds me of laxative. A laxative is often used to relax the bowel movements of constipated individuals, and then they are able to go to the bathroom regularly. Hmm..how relevant that it can also refer to the lax jaw muscles of the above individual, who is spewing out continuous crap, and stinking up the entire world of logic…)

The council has already ordered municipal authorities to make daily inspections to identify violators.

'The mannequins are wearing see-through clothing that show their breasts," he said.

(I say you put them in jail and end this ridiculous breasty stand off. I mean, their breasts show! How can the men of Muharraq ignore an un-nippled mound of fibre glass and not stray from the path??? It is unIslamic! Help us God, how our morality has been trodden by the western ways of window displays and (marketing) and now we must consummate marriages with plastic girls to make it right...)

"And the posters that are on display at video stores are very offensive.

(To who??? Get out of the damn store! You don’t deserve to rent a movie. And who the hell uses videos anymore, for God’s sake move on to DVD’s you Neanderthal goon.)

"There are pictures depicting men embracing women, kissing them, with their breasts uncovered. Others show singers wearing skimpy clothing. It seems that baring breasts has become a normal thing in our society these days," continued Mr Hamada.

(It seems..yes yes. God forbid, men should embrace or kiss women, it is more natural that they should whip them and lock them up in rusty cages. Let’s look to Ramadhan as the perfect time to portray such beautiful Man-Woman relationships in the crap that the GCC airs on TV. Ban that, oh Mighty Chair-man.)

He warned that licences of any violators would be revoked.

(Whatever..ihaddid ba3ad..)

He also welcomed a parliamentary proposal to outlaw men working at women's lingerie shops.

(An ‘outlaw’ is usually someone depicted in an old western movie who is galloping away on a black horse with a bag of money in his hands, but in New Bahrain, it will be a sorry fool who accepted a job selling underwear in a dinky shop in Muharraq. Welcome to progress. If I may add, I feel uncomfortable buying my monthly feminine products from supermarkets, can we ban them from there as well?? It hurts my dignity…Also, I think you shouldn’t put skinny people behind the counters at fast food restaurants, they’re so judgemental…Ban them too…Oh yeah and poor people as bank tellers, they would feel jealous of other peoples money! Let’s make sure only high net worth individuals work in banks.)

As Jerry Springer loves to leave his less than sophisticated audience with a final thought of the day..(I’m watching it) I shall leave the above lost monkeys with my final words of wisdom. “Leave the mannequins alone, get a hobby like cooking, knitting or needlepoint and stop talking to the press. You have nothing worth hearing to say.

Take care of yourselves and each other…Good night…you sick bastards.”

Saturday, April 21, 2007

Home Alone

Is there such a thing as newly-wed syndrome? I am so attached to my husband, I find it hard to ignore him, leave him alone or enjoy a night out with the girls. Sometimes, I feel like that over eager puppy from Tom and Jerry. “Can we play, huh? Can we? Can we go outside, huh? Please, please, can we, can we?”

“Farah! Sit. Good girl.” He pats me on the head and runs away to his Cigar smoking room. (I have to add that to the non-smoking zones in the house, since the issuing of my health revolution edict of February 2007)

Usually, once left alone, I am eventually forced to go find something interesting to do, like jog, paint, blog about him or pester my sister. It’s actually quite healthy for us to spend time apart, I’m told… Whatever.

I mean, I can handle a few hours of alone time, but 2 DAYS! That’s got to be challenging, for anyone. A few weeks ago, I got so overwhelmed by my spare time, I didn’t know what to do with myself. This is not to say that I had nothing to do, I had lots of things to entertain me. I was excited about everything, like a confused grasshopper with absolutely no focus. The reason, for all this spare time? Nayef was in Riyadh for the weekend, and I had nothing to stare at…

I realized just how much my pathetic list of activities revolved around my husband. Not to say that it was a bad thing. I loved hanging out together and planning every dinner, every movie, and sharing with him, every single random thought that popped into my head, even the ones he’d rather not hear. But he gets me, and it’s lovely to talk to someone, who’s almost always with you on the same wave length.

The weekend he was away, the deathly still silence woke me up at least three times in the middle of the night. It was so damn quiet, not a touch of wind or rain, no AC or heater working and Whisker (the husband substitute) was as quiet as a mouse. The 2nd time I woke up at 3:30 am I felt for Whisker for a comforting hug in the dark, and found she wasn’t in bed. Immediately I jumped up and turned on the table lamp, yelling her name…there she was. Sitting like the sphinx, Whisker sat across my row of shoes, nose dedicatedly embedded into my bronze heels. This dog has a shoe fetish, and even at 3:30 am she shamelessly got out of bed in the pitch black night to go dabble in some shoe-tasting.

I stuffed my face back into my pillow, annoyed at being awake at such a scary time of night, missing his gentle snoring that I had cursed/recorded and threatened him with, so often before.

It really sucked, but I suppressed my separation-anxiety and tried to have some dignity, rather than call Nayef every 25 minutes to ask stupid questions like “Having fun?” referring to his excruciating time in Riyadh. Instead, I kept myself busy by reading and watching Oprah’s 20th Anniversary DVD which miraculously showed up in the mail, the day he was leaving. Watching all the emotional and sad episodes on Oprah without a boy around can actually be fun, you can cry, sob and wipe your tearful eyes dramatically, without someone peering into your puffy face and asking you, “Are you serious??!! You’re crying?” It’s very cathartic and tension releasing, without the mockery, of course.

Another thing that releases tension and passes the time is singing! But I can’t sing Karaoke when Nayef is around because he makes faces and never joins in. That’s why, although I love doing that, I will only sing when I am absolutely alone. I don’t even do it when Emily is around for fear that she might want to participate, she apparently won BD 5 in a magic sing-a-long competition and enjoys karaoke. My secret stash of microphones and 25 Karaoke DVDs that I’ve gathered over the past five years would only come out after she went to her room in the evening. So that weekend, I sang and sang, with Whisker as my only audience, (I made her solemnly swear that she would never speak of it). By the time I had gone through 27 songs, I had a soar throat and felt a little light headed, so I had to stop.

By the end of the two days I had kept up my self-restraint so well, that when Nayef came back, he almost thought I didn’t miss him. I just smiled and said, “Oh, you know, I was busy with my mom, and went out with friends I hadn’t seen in ages.” I’m such a liar, I didn’t even feel like going out. But he didn’t know that I was a loser who stayed at home, lit candles and bonded with Whisker, Oprah and my vocal cords. Next time I’ll have to do something more exciting…but in the mean time, I’m going to enjoy the syndrome.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

The Aftermath

The loveliest thing in the world is to sit on your sofa, after a terrible, long, stressful week, wearing your favorite soft cotton pajamas with the sweetest dog in the world stretched out on your lap resting her cute little fluffy, whiskery chin on your knee. (that is assuming the sight of a dog, doesn’t send you screaming and leaping onto the nearest coffee table.)

Such is my heaven, but as no heaven is perfect, I have to disclose that Whisker just leapt off of my lap, and went to curl up doughnut-style next to Nayef. I’m so jealous but I have to hide it and pretend to actually be mature. So I’m just sitting here calmly typing away, as if it’s not eating at me as I will her with my eyes to “come back to Momma’s lap now...”

To commemorate the end of my nightmarish week of working like a slave monkey on speed, we decided to celebrate with a mock slumber party. I decided that we would sleep in the TV room, like when we were kids, each on his/her respective sofa eating different flavors of Doritos and watching marathons of favorite movies all night long. But while we both jumped with glee at the genius idea, we apparently had very different ideas of “favorite movies”.

“Let’s watch something, funny and romantic and cute.” I suggested naively, thinking of When Harry met Sally.

“Oh, I wanted to watch something with a little bit more killing, beating up and fighting.” He said hopping around, illustrating his fantasy fight scene, “Godfather?”

Oh good God, how many times am I going to subject myself to a movie that I loved the first time, but had to watch 6 or 7 times, as my husband secretly wished he was in the Mafia and then laughed at me when I cried at the sad scenes. Zero sensitivity. Zero.

Too tired to argue, or get up off the sofa to find a better choice, we are now watching something called “Payback” starring the devilishly handsome yet increasingly violent Mel Gibson. I am trying really hard not to throw up, during the gruesome scenes and finding it hard not to eat my hand, while someone pulls someone’s piercing out of his nose…

Damn it, I’m going to wait this movie through with the help of God, and then we’re watching something light and airy like CareBears: The movie, or else this whole slumber party is going to get cancelled and I’m sending everyone (nayef) home!

Meanwhile, I’m going to enjoy the lime flavored Doritos, which are oddly refreshing like a tiny glass of lemonade compressed into each corn chip, especially when sipping club soda in between crunches.

I love Formula One…the day after it ends.