No Sex In The Champagne Room

As the most overhyped best night of the year is only days away, my mind wanders back to the New Year’s Eve parties of the years past and I realize that I didn’t enjoy almost any of them. It’s always a quest to go out and buy the perfect dress, the perfect shoes to go with them, get the nails done, the hair done, go with the perfect date and group of friends, go to the perfect venue – by the time I’m there, I’m exhausted, and it ends up sucking because of all the high expectations. This year, I decided to take on a very simple approach – it is not NYE, it is a NLAO (Night Like Any Other).
To those of you who never enjoyed the NYE’s of the years past, here are some tips on how to make this one different.

For Her:

Tip #1: Forget about being the queen of the prom. Prom night is over – on NYE there will be other pretty girls and other pretty dresses so don’t pop a vein in order to look your best. You will only end up scouring the venue for competition instead of enjoying your time.
Oh, and please don’t have a b**** fit in the ladies’ room if you find out that another girl is wearing the same dress as you – everyone will be too drunk to care notice; and last I heard, the center of the universe is the sun (not you).
So please, no posing, no skanky behavior, and no b***hy attitudes because someone might just be drunk enough and waiting for you in the ladies’ room, just to shove your head down a toilet bowl.

Tip #2: If you are single, please do not turn this NYE party into a man-hunting ceremony. While you may be looking for love, your “Peasant Prince Charming” will just be looking for sex fun. Fairy tales must end when you grow breasts and start menstruating; hence, the Cinderella/Prince/Glass slipper situation will not magically reoccur with you this NYE. Although God is busy attending to more important issues, maybe Santa Claus can help:
Dear Santa,
The Holiday season is almost over and the wonderful excess of men will once again become an immense shortage. I am desperately seeking a husband, one that is rich successful, rich charming, and rich good-looking. Please send him to me this NYE as it is my last chance before the country begins to empty out again. I must make my Mama proud and get married (OR ATLEAST ENGAGED) by this summer.
Yours Truly,
The Desperate “Virgin”

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/featured/la-wlooo-no-sex-in-the-champagne-room/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Play With Your Golden Balls

Before I wish you all a Merry Christmas (not Xmas), I would just like to recap the events of “the week before Christmas”. Under normal circumstances, I would have admitted myself into a mental institute, but being surrounded by this amount of negative energy, road rage, and rudeness while racing against time (and money) is enough to make anyone go mad! At this point, I think almost everyone is practically out of money, patience, and is in dire need of a foot massage. Instead of spreading fake notions of “holiday cheer” as I promised last week, I think it’s best to face facts that we should find ways of acknowledging “holiday stress” and dealing with it so that Christmas remains a joyful time of the year.

Influx of People: As the amount of people in the country quadruples, the amount of oxygen, space, and patience is non-existent reduced; especially because almost everyone is doing the same thing: Working and shopping during the day, and shopping and partying during the night. People are literally racing to stores to buy the last of each item and nothing will stand in their way. It is kind of hard to race in a traffic jam though; so instead, I watch as people stick their heads out of their car windows and start honking at each other and throwing insults out of their nicotine-stinking mouths -how festive!
I really tried very hard not to let this get to me, but I am just as weak and pathetic as the next guy. I have cursed at (and almost beaten) more people in one week than I have in the past year (Santa, I have been so good this year).
A good way to avoid this is to leave to your destination 2 hours earlier and ask the valet to bring your car at least half an hour before deciding to leave a club or bar. When being harassed by a road-raged driver, simply wind up your car windows and turn up the music (preferably to a cheery, jingly Christmas CD that will drown out the “tatar” insults).

Work: For the working people, dividing time between work and family will most likely end in disaster. Your boss will complain that you’re not meeting deadlines, or not carrying your workload as you should (despite the Godforsaken fact that this is a holiday season; hence, a break from work). During this month, you will be expected to work against the forces of nature (and logic) to achieve the unachievable . . . or listen to how you have no added value whatsoever. You WILL be late for meetings as you try not to pee in your pants during a 4 hour traffic jam; bizarrely enough, your boss will always manage to reach on time and question your traffic story because it’s so hard to believe that traffic is mad in the month of December. A good way to deal with this is to start working 2 hours earlier every , and ignore everything work related after work hours are over; don’t forget that your boss is also under a lot of Christmas stress, and this too shall pass.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/featured/la-wlooo-play-with-your-golden-balls/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Hallelujah! The Storm Has Come!

For the past month, almost every Lebanese person has complained at least once that there is no rain Christmas spirit. I have seen people sun tanning by the pool in November (global warming? Nah!) and heard others who made little lame jokes about attending a beach party this New Year’s eve, and most of these thoughts were triggered by the extended summer season that never seemed to end. After we all spent weeks longing for the holiday spirit to arrive, the Christmas lights were finally up on the streets and huge, beautifully lit Christmas trees sprung up in almost every district, planting warmth in people’s hearts.
I, for one, could not wait to go to the malls and observe the colorful, sparkling decoration and lights, but alas, my old and worn out tires did not get me very far. I had promised myself two months ago to get my car serviced before the holiday season, but my laziness got the best of me. Regardless, I decided that no matter what happens in this month of December, I will remain happy, festive, and bright – I also unfortunately decided that my “La Wlooo” will be a happier, more joyful column (for a limited time only of course so that I don’t vomit or kill myself).

 

I joyfully decided to go to the movie theater with Tiger and Pinkie. Upon entering, we were stopped by a handicapped beggar chewing gum salesman who insisted on making me a customer. Pinkie, who had a prior horrible experience (10 years ago) with this rude, ungrateful scoundrel, decided to seek revenge by giving him a 250 L.L. coin; of course I could not let her do this because I had promised myself to be joyful (not spiteful) this season so I proceeded to (generously) give him a 1000 L.L. bill because it was all the spare change I had. To my astonishment, Mr. Hobo threw the chewing gum in my face and started demanding that I pay him at least an additional 1000 L.L. for it. As I tried to keep my composure, I gently explained to him that I could easily buy the same Chiclets chewing gum from any store for only 250 L.L., but he would not stop shouting at me, jerking my arm, and throwing chewing gum at me. In my state of chewing gum attack shock, I turned into a little “lebanesy” airhead and all I could say was “yii, yii, yii, yii, yii, yii, yii, yii?!?!?” until Tiger and Pinkie pulled me away and scolded me for trying to reason with a crazy thief delusional man. Two hours and a movie later, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the infamous 1000 L.L. bill resting on Tiger’s car, which was the Hobo’s way of telling me “Go f*** yourself!” as he chain smoked his cigarettes and watched us from a distance. Now who would’ve thunk it?!

A couple of days later, still feeling chirpy and warm, I decided to take a short drive down to the Kaslik shopping district to buy my friend a birthday gift while I enjoyed the lights and the overall feeling of Christmas. I had a cup of tea at a nearby café with a couple of friends who implored me to continue shopping by foot because the weather was still dry and cool – so I did just that. I was happy with my thick scarf and t-shirt, feeling that I had made the appropriate choice for the current weather, but as soon as I walked out of the shop, I was drenched with rain and cursing at my girlfriends for urging me to walk. Five minutes later, I was already sneezing in my car when I suddenly realized that I had forgotten my diamond bracelet at the boutique and had to return to claim it – but of course, it was too late (sigh). Well, at least someone stole got a free and beautiful Christmas gift. Getting stuck in hardcore traffic in the midst of a storm, while you’re soaking wet and reminiscing over a stolen bracelet is not the best way to end a day; but it’s still Christmas time and I owe it to myself to remain in the cheery spirit!

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/featured/la-wlooo-hallelujah-the-storm-has-come/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Bitten By The Plastic Surgery Bug

Appreciating extreme plastic surgery has never been my forte, but it seems that most Lebanese women insist on looking like, a) Michael Jackson, b) some form of animal, c) they’re 30 years younger (in your dreams old mama!), or d) a blowfish with a stick up its tail.
I know many girls who have gotten minor adjustments done to their nose, lips, breasts, etc, and it hasn’t changed how they look, but it has definitely improved how they feel about themselves. Although I prefer taking the “I have more self-confidence” approach, I respect and encourage these girl’s decisions because we live in such a judgmental and superficial society. Of course plastic surgery can improve people’s lives by boosting much needed self confidence, but when it becomes an overdone obsession, it has to stop!

Ms. Anal Retentive got plastic surgery done on her bunion-infested ogre-ugly toes because it always seemed as though she was giving the finger to someone (in her case, giving the toe). After getting a couple of her toes shortened (and her foot size significantly reduced), she met the Mr. ATM Machine of her dreams who hated her breasts and asked for her to enlarge them – and she did. Unfortunately for her, each breast was facing a different angle than the other and they were oddly pear-shaped; but Mr. ATM Machine preferred her new pears breasts to her previous ones simply because they were larger – how pathetic. Of course, when she went on to marry her ATM, Breast-enlarging Shrek, all her brainless girlfriends and her sister copied her every move in order to desperately secure a man (including getting their breasts enlarged). It’s a sad story that ends with Ms. Anal retentive getting botox done all over her face before she turned 27 only to find out that her loving husband (now ex-husband) will never stop cheating (regardless of what breast size she has). If a man ever asks you to enlarge your breasts, ask him to enlarge his penis first, followed by his brain, and then tell him to go pay for a wh**e with big D-cups and get it out of his system.

 

Mrs. Dinosaur Relic cannot come to terms with her real age, so she doesn’t stop harassing her money-hungry plastic surgeon until she looks like a vacuum-packed Michael Jackson (God rest his soul). Mrs. Dinosaur Relic was quite the beauty, but boredom got the best of her and she decided to play with none other than her face (more fun than an iPad). All her other ancient friends had already made the decision of not wanting to grow up gracefully, and she simply followed in their footsteps to the doctor’s clinic. She now scares spectators people wherever she goes because her white, powdered, plastic Halloween mask face makes babies cry, children run, and adults stare while she feels like the hottest babe in town (at 160 60, this is a teeny bit immature). 

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/featured/la-wlooo-bitten-by-the-plastic-surgery-bug/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Facebook Freaks, Be GONE!

Almost all the girls I know have a common curse: Facebook Freaks; the guys that send us the weirdest, most irrelevant Facebook messages, with the worst English spelling and grammar mistakes. Some are funny, some are scary, some are impossible to understand; but all of them remain unanswered. Since Thanksgiving was a few days ago, I thought I’d go through my inbox and give back to all the unanswered freak messages I’ve received in 2010. Why am I doing this? In the hopes that one of these sad, lonely, retards men will read my column and begin to realize why the closest he can get to a female is the cashier lady at the supermarket.
(Please note that any grammar and/or spelling mistakes are purposely left uncorrected to maintain the essence of these men’s suave approaches. Only initials are used to maintain privacy)

 

E.A.wrote: Hi, how are you? it is nice to meet new people hope you consider. I am a teacher for English language and computer. I love walking , comic movies, and my computer. I am Lebanese and Australian I live in Beirut. plz send your mail to add you so we can chat. best regards

My Reply: Dear E.A., I am surprised that you teach English since you cannot form one correct and complete sentence. I am also glad that you love to walk (like the rest of us humans) and it’s great that you love your computer – I am sure your TV and radio are equally loved as well. I would have loved to send you my email address, but I firmly believe that I already know everything there is to know about you thanks to the self advertisement you just sent me. I suggest you stop copy-pasting this message to every girl on the Lebanon network and resign from your teaching job.

M.F. wrote: Do you know who you look like?

My Reply: I do not care. You look like you fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.

I.S. wrote: holaaa crayolaaa

My Reply: www.hopitalpsychiatriquedelacroix.org.lb Check it out – it could change your life.

A.T. wrote: Hey There,
I am A. from Turkey and gonna visit Beirut for the first time.
But i dont know anyone there, Just looking for some friends:) Maybe you can help me, what do you think?

My Reply: I think what you’re looking for is an escort service. I must admire your perseverance; instead of reserving at restaurants, you’re reserving one night stands before you reach your destination. Best of luck.

 

E.A. wrote: hi ana refi2o la reje kifik

My Reply: Is “reje” supposed to be a name? of a person? If yes, I do not know a “reje” and thank you for asking, but my eyes were much better before you sent me this undecipherable arabic-english message.

K.R. wrote: hi rita. you’re so pretty. how old are you

My Reply: How is that of any relevance? Whether I am 5, 15, or 25, do you think I would ever talk to you?

I.T.N. wrote: sweet….are u lebanese?

My Reply: Eukh . . . I feel violated. I have an eery feeling that you’ve been staring at my photo for a while and thinking some dirty thoughts, so excuse me while I go die a little.

C.S. wrote: hey pretty, how you doing ? whats the story

My Reply: The story is that you have evil parents because they made you believe you’re suave and cool. Please abstain from talking to anyone (and anything) female because you make me want to track you down and b**** slap you across your smug face.

S.G. wrote: nice photo

My reply: I know – that’s why it’s my profile picture; but do you know that stating the 

obvious is not enough to strike up a conversation? Did you also know that I’m not modest or bored enough to even say thank you? And same goes for the 95 other girls you sent this bland message to.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/featured/facebook-freaks-be-gone/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Vulgar Women, NOT Sexy

After watching enough video clips for some of our new Lebanese female exhebitionists singers, I have come to terms with one truth: their voice was not their claim to fame. Beauty is no longer understood. When did it become acceptable for women to parade around looking like pin up dolls who just got abused by a makeup brush followed by a wardrobe catastrophe? Are these monsters celebrities acting as role models for both girls my age and older women who cannot understand the concept of “older”? If they’re not the reason, then what’s the cause of all this vulgarity I see everywhere?
My own analysis would be that these shemales females have forgotten the difference between sexy and vulgar, so I’ve taken the liberty of writing down 10 commandments for women in this department.

Thou Shalt Not look like a Ho:

 

1. Thou Shalt Not wear leggings with a short shirt: Don’t be so astonished. It is incorrect for you to walk around wearing something so tight without covering your va-jay-jay area. Reason #1: You will have a cameltoe. Reason #2: Men will say: “She has a cameltoe”. Reason #3: Every man who sees you will have one thought – that you’re a ho. To remember this, repeat “cameltoe equals ho”.

2. Thou Shalt Not wear clown makeup: Believe it or not, make up should be discreet; i.e. it should bring out your features, not hide them under a 13 cm layer of muck. Please refrain from drawing black circles around your eyes – you are a lady, not a raccoon. Also, please try not to look like Mimi from the Drew Carey Show (pink + blue + red + green = clown = not sexy). To remember this, repeat “if my eyes do not show, then I look like a ho”.

3. Thou Shalt Not have inflatable breasts: It’s a shocker ladies, but men indeed do not like anything bigger than a natural C cup. Can you imagine a man introducing Ms. Fake ‘D cup’ to his mother? “Hey mom, meet the breasts. My girlfriend is standing right behind them.” The only thing he will introduce her to is his bed. Also, for those who have a smaller chest, please do not wear those scary push up bras for the cleavagy-ho look. Breasts cannot defy gravity and their place is below the neck, not adjacent to the chin. Every man I know finds that cheap. To remember this, repeat “What happens in bed stays in bed (including my scary push up bra and everything else that makes me look like a porno ho)”.

4.       Thou Shalt Not wear vulgar bras with transparent straps: Please enough with this “trend” already. If I had the time, I would walk into every lingerie store and confiscate them! It is so vomit-inducing when a girl is wearing a backless shirt with a bra that has transparent straps (that always look dirty for some reason). Hence, it is NOT invisible; it is nasty! I don’t care what part of the bra is transparent, say NO to the ho look. If it has rhinestones on the straps, say NO to the ho look. If it has transparent straps AND rhinestones, be sure it’s for a ho. To remember this, repeat “If I want my bra to show, I’m a ho”.

5.       Thou Shalt Not wear vulgar shoes:
Category 1: 15 inch heels: Especially if your toes are ugly. How can you know? Check your second toe; if it’s crooked and sticking out, hide it. Please make sure that walking in heels makes you look sexy; if you’re waddling as if you’re a dinosaur about to fall, cut 10 inches off your heels or stay home where no one can laugh at you. To remember this, repeat “I am a graceful lady, not a dino-ho”.
Category 2: cheap leather shoes: 1) you will be scarred with bunions for the rest of your life, 2) they are so trashy, and 3) your heel will break as a punishment from the universe. To remember this, repeat: “Shiny black garbage bags belong in the dumpster, not on my precious feet”.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/featured/la-wlooo-vulgar-women-not-sexy/ 

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Radar State of Mind

Watch me cry with fear jump for joy as I hear the news of the “radars in Lebanon”; a 100 kmph speed limit on highways, and a 50 kmph speed limit on inner city roads. I am one of the few people I know that has actually gotten speeding tickets in Lebanon (before the radars were installed of course). I’ve heard rumors that once I get my third speeding ticket, my driver’s license will be revoked (can anyone please confirm that for me? If it’s only a rumor, I’d love to know!). The new law involves imprisonment and/or not being able to drive for up to 6 months (oh mon dieu, can you imagine showing up at a restaurant or club in a taxi?)

While driving, whenever I hear the sound of a siren, I die a little. I fear that it could be a police car chasing after me (for speeding, for talking on the phone, for not wearing my seat belt, etc) but it always turns out to be one of the following:
a) Two police men (Frick and Frack) in their police car, feeling the need to overtake my car because I’m driving too slow (?!?!?!?) so they blast the siren and speed at 120 kmph (not even on a highway, but on smaller roads). Yes, Lebanese policemen are the ideal example of law enforcement. They are high on power trips and find it necessary to show everyone that they have mucho grande cojones (aka, big brains balls).
b) A wazwaz-mobile with the “zammour el khatar” installed in it; because the wazwaz’s dad has connections to “I don’t know who in I don’t know what”. Does anyone understand the stupidity significance of this?
c) My paranoia.

The Lebanese people, always looking for the plan B and the loophole in every situation, will not rest till they take matters into their own hands – a la libanaise. A week after the radars were installed, radar detectors were already being shipped into the country. A friend told me, “You want to speed? Speed! It will cost you a little more, but I can get you a radar detector from the states. That way you can slow down when you approach the radar.” Ok, so let me get this straight: I’m going to pay much more than 50,000 L.L. to purchase a radar detector so that I can go from 180 kmph to 100 kmph in 5 seconds (and potentially kill myself and all three motorists driving behind me) all so I avoid a measly speeding ticket? Isn’t it a bit less complicated to just abide the law?

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wlooo-radar-state-of-mind/ 

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Lebanese TV: Dumb & Dumber?

I’ve been asked time and time again to write about the silly shows on our local TV channels, but my answer has always been, “sorry, I can’t – I do not watch local TV.” But today, I’ll gladly name a FEW of the shows I remember watching, which made me ban local TV from my life . . . forever.

The Perfect Bride: Oh yes, I would love to watch a “reality show” about a bunch of desperate, helpless, gullible women that are being judged by their future mothers-in-law on cooking, cleaning, and every other housekeeping task that would keep their future husbands happy. Furthermore, the “Perfect Bride” is chosen by the future mother-in-law! The suspense is not over yet though; will the Amish bride to be say “yes” to the mama’s boy groom to be? To the “Perfect Maid Bride” contestants:  Are you living in the 15^th century? Do you enjoy being locked up and bossed around by your future mother-in-law for weeks just to receive your five minutes of shame fame? Are you mentally ill?

Star Academy: Well, it’s supposed to be a show for discovering new talent in singing and dancing – but where is the talent exactly? Their choreographed dance moves look more like epileptic seizures; and watching them on stage is only mildly less painful than watching a ton of bricks flying at my face. The closest I can get to describing their voices is this:  when I was younger, I used to spend my summers in my hometown up in the mountains. I distinctly remember hearing bizarre sounds like cats getting raped and wolves howling at 4 am. When my friends would sleep over, those noises would worry them; so I would comfort them by explaining that it’s the “cat rape hour”.
Friday night’s “Star Academy cat rape hour prime” brought back many memories.

The biggest Loser: I’ve never liked obese people. I don’t care if they have eating disorders, experience mental problems, or love their fried chicken a little too much. What they do to gain or lose weight is none of my business. The last thing I want to see on TV is a bunch of tremendously fat people bouncing around on treadmills and crying as they express how hungry they are to the camera (and this is because they are now eating two whole grilled chickens for lunch instead of the 15 fried ones they used to wolf down consume before). I don’t really care if I sound politically incorrect, insensitive, or mean – it’s just a nauseating sight to see. Let’s lose the 150 extra kilos privately.

LOL: I’m not really sure what the point of this show is (entertainment?!), but what really baffles me is how certain TV channels found it essential to air their own version of the show. To the producers of “LOL”: Do you think you’ve become cooler or more westernized by being so cheap and vulgar? If so, TV networks in the USA have a little something you should learn about: censorship. Is this the example you’re setting for your viewers – that it’s cool to walk around saying profanities like that out of a garbage mouth?
Breaking news: You are NOT funny; in fact, you are lame, offensive, and you’re the biggest waste of TV space. What’s sadder than the “LOL” show is the other show(s) imitating it, and what is even sadder is their empty-headed audiences.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/tv-dumb-or-dumber/ 

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

My Blackberry, My Cherie

 Nine months ago after I wrote about how the Blackberry changed my life (to the worse), I decided to pick my battles; and so I chose to disregard my friends’ excessive blackberry consumption while we’re out together, even if it meant that I would be ignored on several occasions (but still, that would give me much pleasure and time to check my Facebook and ASW notifications,  e-mails, BBM messages and status updates, MSN and What’s App messages – yes, I’m semi-retarded).

BUT, there is always that one person who irritates the life out of me with their 476 blackberry status updates and their 498 broadcast messages per day!

WHY?!

We can all go crazy ONCE IN A WHILE and feel the need to update our statuses 9 times per day, or send funny, meaningless broadcast messages to our friends; but that is not what I am talking about. I am talking about out of this world psychotic behavior. For instance, there are these 2 (more like 6) girls on my BBM list that update their statuses faster than they can  say “I’m an annoying freak of nature that must stop scaring people!”

One of them, Ms. Merry Berry updates her status every 4.5 minutes. Allow me to demonstrate:

“I am flying”

“I am flying high”

“I am flying hghh in the sky” (she realizes she made a typo and corrects it)

“I am flying high in the sky”

“I am flying so high in the sky” (it’s all about emphasis)

“I am flying so high in the sky :)”

“I am flying so high in the sky :) :)”

“I am flying so high in the sky :) :) :)” (as I said, emphasis)

Okay, I believe you!

Till today, I still ask myself two questions:

1. Does Ms. Merry Berry realize that people can see her going psycho 12 times
per hour?

2. Was I temporarily insane when I accepted her friend request?

3. How oh how can I delete her without hurting her merry, twitchy, little feelings?

To all the merry berry people out there: please tone down the creepiness (for the sake of your keypad and your self-respect!)

There’s also Ms. Scary Berry who always seems to be starring in a blockbuster horror/thriller/suspense movie:

“Oh nooooooooooooo”

“It’s sooooo bbbaaaddddddd”

“It’s sooooo painfullllllllll”

“What will I dooooooo?”

“I’m dyinngggggggggg”

“Noooo wayyyyyyyyyyyy”

“Helllppp meeee”

After my rage and exasperation subsided, a feeling of overwhelming curiosity swept over me, so I asked Ms. Hitchcock what’s wrong. She then told me that she was experiencing severe menstrual pains (privacy much?); I couldn’t help but wonder what she told her 200 other contacts that must have asked her the same question for the same reasons that I did!

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/lifestyle/cultural/la-wlooo-my-blackberry-my-cherie/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Be Stupid!!

Many Lebanese girls have become so influenced with movies and TV series that they’ve turned their lives into a cheap imitation of the plastic Hollywood culture. Everywhere I look, I see 100 Paris Hilton wannabes making the statement “I am rich, beautiful, and shallow”.

Trying to be the mayor of Lebo-ville, where I had given myself the liberty of trying to fix or change the retards around me, proved to be impossible – little did I know that I need an army of psychiatrists, sociologists, wrestlers, snipers, and undercover retards to be able to communicate with these girls. I have now decided to stop trying to change anyone and everyone.

Instead, I considered trying a different approach of becoming more like them so that I don’t feel like vomiting or stapling their lips shut every time I have to see them or hear their stories.

For starters, I would tell daddy to open up a clothes boutique for me as a hobby because I’m such a fashionista that knows nothing about anything other than clothing labels and what’s HOT this fall. I will “create” my own designs and display some of my friends’ high-end, ridiculously priced designs (made of high quality fabrics only found next to the vegetable markets of Tripoli and in “Sou2 el Ahad”). Of course, I wouldn’t stay in Lebanon to work – I have aspirations! My real job would be in “Milan, Paris, London, or New York” (of course cities like these would kill to have a little shit like me working in their job market).

I would replace my novels and Time magazines with more stimulating reads that will inform me on whether Brad and Angelina are getting a divorce or not, and where Jennifer Love Hewitt got her vajeyjey vajazzled! Not only would I become more globally aware, but I’d have more to discuss with my new group of girlfriends.

I would only go on vacations when the other cool kids are traveling –we’d all plan it out on each others’ walls on Facebook and meet at the same “in” destination where we could all go shopping and take photos of our shopping bags, and go clubbing in the hopes of a one night stand with a famous football player or actor. That wouldn’t mean I am a whore, no, it would just mean I’m the hottest of the bunch.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/lifestyle/cultural/la-wlooo-be-stupid

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Terrorizing, Traumatizing Traffic

On a typical day in Lebanon, no matter where you live or work, a simple drive from point A to point B could induce heart attacks, stokes, and/or anxiety attacks amongst the best of us. Regardless of trying every known or undiscovered shortcut (until you start sweating through your eyeballs), you will still get stuck in traffic, drive into a ditch, or get verbally harassed by another road-raged driver. Why bother driving in the first place? “Yiii, my prestige doesn’t allow me to walk or use public transportation!”
In our 10,452 km² country and on our “very strategically built” highways, why all the traffic? Where in the heck does it start and end? You could be speeding down the road enjoying the music, when all of a sudden: a traffic jam (it begins and ends for no logical reason at all). I’ve come to notice a few reasons as to why this happens:

1.       Shops at the side of the road: Cars are ALWAYS parked in front of those shops, and it is inevitable that everyone must panic once a motorist attempts to drive back onto the highway. WHY is this so difficult? Cars driving by simply cannot slow down without creating havoc, and the motorist who is reversing out of their parking space suddenly forgets how to drive like a human being. The result: panic, and thus traffic.

2.       Car accidents: No, I do not mean car accidents on the highway you are actually driving on; I mean accidents on the highway to your left. All motorists simply must stop (because the road belongs to their fathers) and stare at the accident (to check what car it is, if anyone died, and tell the whole world that they saw it first– Reuters style). Some motorists even get out of their cars and join the police men and ambulance drivers on the scene of the accident – why they do this, I will never know!

3.       Left lanes: Almost everyone is always driving on the left lane. In all fairness, it is supposed to be the fast lane (everywhere except in Lebanon), but here we all make our own rules – the Lebanese motorists will drive on the left at 30 kmph (any slower and they’ll be moving backwards), and God forbid that you honk at any of them because they own the roads and are too uncivilized to understand the concept of a “fast lane”. As a result, you will only receive a handful of insults (the only way a Lebanese motorist knows how to communicate). “Man, kermel heik ba3mol betweeneit.”

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/lifestyle/cultural/la-wlooo-terrorizing-traumatizing-traffic/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Rain, Rain, Go Away!

My Friday started with an 11 am rendezvous at my manicurist’s, who was having a semi-stroke because her car was at the wash and there were chances of rain. This automatically put every girl present into panic mode: “If it rains, what shoes will I wear tonight?”, “Should I wear a light jacket?”, “Should I even bother going to the hair salon?”, “Should I commit suicide because the world is coming to an end?” I sat there feeling very left out because I couldn’t remember the last time I washed my car, and I virtually never get my hair coiffed to go out; I was actually looking forward to the rain, and I definitely think it’s something to look forward to after that sizzling hot summer (one can only sweat so much!).

Surely enough, it rained . . . and rained . . . and rained till all hell broke loose. To all you readers who do not reside in Lebanon, I would like to assure you that it was nothing close to a tsunami (or even a small storm); it was a couple of hours of gentle rain with a little bit of thunder, and the result was as follows:

As soon as I stepped into my car, and after leaving skid marks all over the streets of Jounieh, I was reminded that my wheels needed changing. The dust on my windshield mixed with the rain, resulted in a muddy mixture of crap that my wipers couldn’t get rid of (this was the universe punishing me for not washing my car for the past 2 months). Roads were blocked with traffic – I am guessing that every other Lebanese citizen must have also realized that their wheels needed changing (either that or they simply enjoy panicking and driving at 20 kmph for no reason at all). Who knows, maybe it’s a Lebanese ritual to drive like a 90 year old corpse at the first glimpse of a rain drop. Roads were also suddenly polluted with garbage . . . where the heck did it all come from? Water is supposed to wash away dirt, not make it more visible!

I reached my home dripping with water, but still feeling thankful that the months of scorching heat are finally over. Since our water heater at home runs on solar energy, and since the sun was non-existent today, I was forced to shower in cold water. It then took me almost 2 hours to finish blow drying my hair because the electricity went nuts – I guess “Electricité du Liban” (a.k.a. Sons du Bi***es) believes that a harmless rain shower is good enough reason to repeatedly cut out the power supply from every home over the duration of 4 hours until every Lebanese citizen has officially gone mad.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/lifestyle/cultural/la-wlooo-rain-rain-go-away/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

PMS: Beauty & The Beast

As if being a woman weren’t hard enough, we had to be “cursed” with “that time of the month” as well. And as if men didn’t complain about us enough, they have an extra reason to do that every month for the rest of our lives (or until menopause at least) – and by then we’d all be too old to bother talking, let alone arguing.
Since “rivalry” and confusion between men and women has existed long before the invention of the cheese sandwich, I decided to clarify (in my opinion) why women are monsters during the wonderful days of PMS (Pre-menstrual syndrome).

As much as women like to complain about it, I think that deep down we are all thankful for having a few days a month where we have a good excuse to behave as we please; and we can be as mean, angry, annoyed, and fussy as we want. A lady must act like a lady at all times (I try to keep it at a good 50-50, for my sanity’s sake); it’s hard work – especially when we watch men walk around topless, scratch their balls, spit in public, pee at the side of the road, burp, fart, smell bad, etc. And all though that type of behavior is absolutely disgusting (even for men), they are allowed to do it – for them, it’s justified. Although it will never be acceptable for women to act that way, and although we don’t care to act that way either, that type of liberation does create some feelings of envy in us. So when PMS-ing, we can complain from dusk till dawn, and although those around us may be contemplating how to kill us, they can’t do anything about it since our behavior is justified – it’s a privilege (and a curse) that can’t be taken away from us.

I have heard time and time again about how Ms. PMS is late, is cranky, has cramps, has cravings, is in pain, is tired, and wishes to stab her boyfriend or husband 5 times in the face (why? why not!). For the remainder of the month, she absolutely adores her man – the simple thought of him makes her smile; but during this time, his face represents all that is ugly and awful in the world. His voice makes her heart beat faster (and I don’t mean that in a good or romantic way), his actions (whether romantic gestures or routine behavior) make her want to cry with misery (or turn into King Kong and climb a building). Why? I believe it’s the price men have to pay (just for being men).

No matter how great you are as a man, stay away from a PMS-ing woman; or if you insist on being around her, simply ignore the beast and everything she says and/or does for that duration (although I must warn you – that will piss her off even more). How can you win in this situation? You can’t.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/lifestyle/cultural/la-wlooo-pms-beauty-the-beast/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Lazy "Lebanese" Ladies

I remember reading somewhere that the year 2010 would witness “the rise of the female entrepreneur”, and many of my friends and acquaintances have indeed lived up to that claim and proved to those around them that you do not need to have a penis in order to be hardworking and independent. This made me take a glance at where I stood in this: after graduating 3 years ago, I jumped right into the employment scene; slaving away 12 hours a day, 5 days a week for over 2 years until I decided I needed a break, just to remember what the sun felt like on my skin and what oxygen felt like in my lungs.

During my break, I decided that I wanted to become an entrepreneur as well, and that is what I have oh so slowly been working on for the past few months. Whenever I am in doubt or hesitant, I force myself to remember when I was jealous of all those unemployed girls I know that could go to the beach any time they wanted, travel randomly when their hearts desired, and stay up every night till the break of dawn until I became one of them and realized that it is not a privilege, but a curse; because laziness inevitably brings one thing: more laziness (and consequently, uselessness).

I also realized not many girls enjoy working . . . at all. Instead, some graduate from university and claim not to be able to find a job; and some graduate and start looking for the next best thing: a “rich” husband. They believe that it is only a man’s job to make money and build a career.

Me: “Why aren’t you working?”

Useless Post-Grad: “Oh I haven’t found anything yet.”

Me: “How long have you been searching?”

Useless Post-Grad: “I’m not (because I am a coward who is terrified of failure).”

Me: “Oh . . . OK (loser), how come?”

Useless Post-Grad: “I have a severe case of Post-Graduation Depression.”

Me: “You have post-what?!”

The worst part about lying is when you start believing it yourself. “Post-Graduation Depression”, Ha! I wish these hopeless cases would
stop searching for “smarter” ways to camouflage their actual problem; instead they should say “I am refusing to acknowledge that I am a lazy loser who is a waste of space and an even bigger ungrateful waste of my parents’ support, time, and money. I am also getting tired of searching for a rich man to support me financially (I need to get those new Gucci shoes or life as I know it, will end), so please God, help me win more time to come up with yet another lame excuse for why I am such a useless burden (or better yet, please find me that
rich husband, really fast!).” The saddest part is that when Ms. Useless Post-Grad was still in university, she bragged to everyone about how she will become a big shot when she graduates. Aah . . . she talks the talk but can’t walk the walk, tsk tsk.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/lifestyle/cultural/la-wlooo-lazy-lebanese-ladies

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Broken-Hearted Girls

Following last week’s “Broken-Hearted Boys”, here’s a little heartbreak insight for the ladies. I will only mention the top two scenarios I hear about the most (and wish to never hear about, ever again).

Scenario Number 1: The Slithery Slimy Rico Suave
You meet your “Prince Charming” – he is Mr. Perfect; the handsome (vain), sweet-talking (lying), charismatic (patiently awaiting sex), suave (sly), mysterious man you’ve always dreamed of (the reason he’s so mysterious is because he’s a liar – wake up women).  A few weeks into it, while you’re telling your friends he’s your boyfriend, he’s telling his friends you’re his “friend” (with a wink); and while you’re falling for the reptile, he’s busy finding a way out.

What he said: Absolutely nothing.

(Translation: He stopped answering your calls and started ignoring you because, a) he doesn’t care, or b) he’s a disrespectful and cowardly swine.)
What he meant: “Please don’t call me. Forget about me. I don’t like or want you anymore and I assume that by not calling you, you’ll understand and never bother me again.”

Your question is: “Oh my GOD! What happened? I need to know! Why did he leave? I need my closure or I can’t move on! Nag! Nag! Nag!”  (Seriously?)

Your question should be: “Why am I still sulking over a man-whore who dumped me in such a disrespectful way? He doesn’t respect me, but don’t I respect myself?”

The verdict: He wanted to have fun with you, either to forget an ex-girl friend or simply because he’s “just not ready for a relationship” (i.e. he is, but not with you). When he realized that you are so stupidly in love with him, he felt choked and decided to run away like the mouse that he is. There are two scenarios:
a) He wanted to have sex, you didn’t, so he left to find someone else to answer to his needs.
b) He wanted to have sex, you gave him what he wanted (quicker than you could say “Hi, How are you?”) so he got bored (no more “thrill of the chase”) and left.

Whatever the reason, it would have never worked out because he wasn’t in a relationship mindset. Forget about him; don’t call or stalk him – it’s called preserving your dignity!

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/lifestyle/cultural/la-wlooo-broken-hearted-girls/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Broken-Hearted Boys

As summer is reaching its end, and goodbyes are inevitable, I realized that many couples I know are breaking up as well. Could it be seasonal bipolarity? Or a trend perhaps (let’s all get tattoos, get married, cry, break up, be gay)? Regardless of the reason, I am tired of seeing tears and hearing the following question, “WHY?!”

I know I’m not Dr. Phil or Oprah, but there are some very logical answers as to why you got dumped!
This week, it’s for the boys (and I am going to be very immature about this). I’m going to narrow it down to the three scenarios I’ve heard about the most.

Scenario Number 1: The Bollywood Indian Drama Queen
You are in a committed relationship; everything is fine (apparently). Suddenly, your sweetheart starts to act a bit emo (moodiness, blasts from the past, pathetic Hollywood movie behavior and speeches), she seems distant (comatose perhaps), she starts coming up with the silliest excuses to see you less, then boom – it’s over.

What she said: “I still love you but things seem to have changed. I am confused. I need some space. I need to discover who I really am and what I really want. I need to expand my horizons. I will always love you though. I just need some time. Blah.”
Her exit speech is the longest most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard, but you’re too hurt and shocked to process it properly.

What she meant: “I don’t love you anymore; I have feelings for someone else. I am suffocating with you. I want to go out, meet guys, go crazy, have sex, and live my life – but I want you to love me and wait for me forever like a gay loser (because I am a selfish b****).”

Your question is: “Why? Why oh why did she leave? If she still loves me, then whyyyyyy?”

Your question should be: “Why? Why oh why am I such a moron? When oh when will I become a man and move on with my life and show that b**** what she lost?”

The verdict: Instead of sulking and being supportive of her decision (like a faggot), tell her to stop yapping (because she is taking you for a fool). Tell her she lost you and your respect. Tell her to get the hell out of your face. Once you do this, you can regain some of the respect you’ve lost (because the girl is going to gossip about the break up to her friends, family, concierge, gardener, teddy bears, and toilet bowl), so at least now she can leave out the part of “Haram, he is so upset, I feel so bad for him.” Kick start your life again and forget about her.

Scenario Number 2: The Victimizing Victim
You are in a fresh relationship, and everything is going great. After a few dates, she changes completely. The sweet angel turns into Cruella de Vil; she is loud, rude, bossy, selfish, and horrifies/hates your friends. She seems to only be interested in the material aspect of the relationship, and when that is not provided, she grows distant and mysterious (or should I say, dishonest). When you complain to her that you are not her doormat, she spins the story around and blames you (or anyone or anything).

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/lifestyle/cultural/la-wloo-broken-hearted-boys/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.