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.

We're All Mad Here

Since I can’t come up with one topic to complain about this week, I decided to whine about several things “a la libanaise” that I just can’t understand. Here’s some food for thought:

1. Why is it that the moment someone phones you, their first question is “Wainak? Shou 3am ta3mol?” Is there no limit to nosiness? Whatever happened to privacy (I guess that died long ago with the creation of the Facebook and the blackberry)? What happened to “hi, how are you?” (And no I don’t mean “hi kifak ca va?”)

2. Why doesn’t anyone use their car turn signal blinkers? When my turn signals are blinking, I look at my rear view mirror and all I see are cars stampeding to over-take me (I think the blinking lights excite their infantile brain cells). I also constantly find myself driving peacefully when all of a sudden, the car in front of me makes a turn (without turn signals). Naturally, I honk angrily at the driver, only to receive the middle finger gesture and the typical insult: “inteyé”.

3. What is up with stupid English grammar mistakes? OH MY GOD! It must be one of my worst pet peeves ever.

• You are a Looser: WRONG! Loser is the opposite of winner. Looser is the opposite of tighter.
• You are so sweat: WRONG! Sweat is perspiration. Sweet is the opposite of bitter.
• Thx you: WRONG! Thx is the abbreviation for Thanks. You simple cannot say “Thanks you”, ladies and gentlemen.
• You are an angle: WRONG! Angle is a point of view or part of a triangle. Angel is that flying white-winged person.

(I once received a love letter that said “You are a sweat angle.” All I could think of was body odors and perpendicular triangles – what a turn off!)

4. What’s up with the horrifying elderly people? Aren’t they supposed to be sweet and full of wisdom? Instead, they are bitter and full of odors. They release gas (loudly) out of every available opening in their body, publicly, and do not care if they are stinking up the room. They are loud, obnoxious, and rude; they drive horribly, push and shove people (aren’t they supposed to be weak and fragile?), and they constantly remind me of how our generation is a failure compared to theirs because they made their money from scratch, fought in the war(s), and had 57 children (Be gone dinosaur!)

5. What do people like in “tish tik tah tah” music? I don’t get it! I see people driving around with their windows down, blasting their Arabic music and dancing to it. Yes, there are some old Arabic songs that are mesmerizing, but nowadays, the lyrics are either completely meaningless, or too corny, or absolutely miserable (backed by horrible melodies and vocals)! I think it is an excuse for girls to pop their cleavage out and shake their stuff like belly dancers who are high on caffeine. Is that supposed to be sexy?

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wlooo-were-all-mad-here/

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.

Dates From Hell Part III: The Shakespearean Alien‏

The third and final installment for “Dates From Hell” is by yet another one of my dear girl friends. This one is more like “The Relationship from Hell” (or from outer space), but it is also sadly true. I hope you enjoy this true horror story.

 The Shakespearean Alien

When Dr. Jekyll (the jack ass) met Fifi, there were no sparks; there were no rainbows (or fireworks or music or butterflies or anything) – there was a suicide threat. Let me explain, when Dr. Jekyll asked Fifi out on a date, Fifi refused, so Dr. Jekyll sent her a suicide message that went something like this:

My dearest Fifi,
From the moment I met you (24 hours ago), something changed in my heart, body, and soul. You have changed my life. My very existence depends on yours. In other words, if you do not want to exist in my life, I do not want to exist at all.
Yours truly,
Dr. Jekyll

Fifi was quite freaked out, but being the good-hearted (naive) person that she is, she agreed to go out on a date with him so that he refrains from committing suicide.

After their first (boring to death) date, Fifi decided that she will not go on date number 2 – she thanked Dr. Jekyll and explained to him that she does not want to date anyone at the moment.
Dr. Jekyll responded with yet another suicidal, pity-inducing message:

Dear Fifi,
How could you be so cruel? I have lost my will to live. I have succumbed to starvation as I sleep alone in the garage of my village home. I have come across photos and objects that reminded me of my childhood (huh?!). I would like to share them with you. I would like to rest my head on your lap and weep (yes folks, the dude said “weep”). It is now evident that this will never be possible so I bid you farewell as I will be leaving this world soon (yeah return to your planet you freak of nature).
Best Regards, 

Dr. Jekyll

Once again, Fifi the fool felt guilty and could not allow Dr. Jekyll to hurt himself and that is how their boring, longer than life relationship began (and never seemed to end). Fifi, who was known as the life of the party, became the most boring person on earth (to better suit Dr. Jekyll). She slowly lost all her friends, and this nourished the beast within Dr. Jekyll, preparing him to transform into Mr. Hyde.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wlooo/

 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.

Dates From Hell Part II: The Loser, Loner, Wannabe-Ghetto Boy

As men are proudly patting each other’s backs for being players and “maniaks”, I am busy spending long hours on the phone with my girl friends, laughing and listening to their horror stories about the not so “maniak” guys. This is Dates from Hell, Part II (also based on facts).

The Loser, Loner, Wannabe-Ghetto Boy

Feeling lonelier than ever, Marsha decided to take a different approach to dating. This time, with Jimbo, a guy younger than her by 7 years, who faked having everything from an education and a job, to a social life and friends. In other words, he is the real life version of the 40-year-old virgin (except he’s much younger, much uglier, and way higher on the loser scale).

Fast forward to the end of their terrific (a.k.a. horrific) first date (possibly Jimbo’s first date ever), Marsha tells Jimbo that she’d rather not go with him to the beach the next day because she is at that time of the month.

Jimbo: “WHAT?!?! Are you insulting my intelligence?!”

Marsha: “No I am not. Just go with your friends . . .”

Jimbo interrupts her by covering his ears and,

Jimbo: “LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LAAAAA, I can’t hear youuuuu!”

Marsha blinks in awe as she holds back a chuckle.

Jimbo: “I don’t need to go with my friends, I don’t have or want any friends, I passed that stage already – you are my friend, Marsha, my best friend.”

Marsha is terrified at this point because she has finally realized the level of retardation she is dealing with.

Marsha: “Umm . . . ok, Jimbo, you’re going to drop me home now.”

Jimbo ignores her remark and drives her off to a distant remote area (possibly the ghetto where he was raised).

Jimbo: “Listen up YO, don’t you f*** with me now YO! I ain’t down with that, YO!

Marsha screams at the top of her lungs.
Jimbo finally drops her home.

Is it finally over? No.

 At a common friend’s wedding, Marsha arrives wearing a stunning dress, the venue is magical (like a Cinderella setting), and all that’s missing is the prince – that’s where Mr. Jimbo pops in. Marsha manages to drink herself into oblivion; Jimbo senses this and runs over to her to continue mentally harassing her. He introduces her to all his family as his girlfriend and future wife. At this point Marsha is brain-dead from intoxication and is susceptible to everything happening around her, including dancing with the butt monkey. Jimbo manages to steal the limelight and the first dance from the newly-weds, and halfway through the spot lit dancing, Jimbo begins to twirl Marsha. She truly enjoys this until she realizes that all the wedding guests are gawking at her butt cheeks, so she angrily asks Jimbo to put her down.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wlooo-dates-from-hell-part-ii-the-loser-loner-wannabe-ghetto-boy/

 

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.

Dates From Hell Part I: The Stingy Brad Pitt

Back by popular demand, I decided to write about some more “dates from hell” stories, but this time, as told by some of my girl friends and divided into 3 parts. (Based on 100% true stories)

The Stingy Brad Pitt

When Powerpuff met Brad, she found him to be quite the good looking charmer. On their first date, Brad decides to take her to a beach resort but he asks Powerpuff to pick him up (how charming) because his car is at the garage. As they arrive to the beach resort, they both proceed to pay the entrance fees. Powerpuff offers to pay her share of course – out of politeness. Without arguing, Brad takes the money from her (Powerpuff assumes that he is trying to avoid a public display of “take my money, no, please, bla” and that he would discreetly sneak it back into her bag later). Instead, Brad blatantly shoves the money into his wallet (Ahem, this is a FIRST DATE!! Who does that?!). After getting over her shock, Powerpuff decides that it is no big deal, and continues with the “date”, which mainly consisted of Brad yapping and bragging about nothing:

Brad: “I am so sick of my car. I want to sell it and buy a new BMW, What do you think?”

Powerpuff: “Umm…I guess your car is OK (and I don’t bloody care!!).”
*Attempting to change the conversation*
“Where did you go to school, Brad?”

Brad: “I studied in Europe (said Mr. Pretentious), and now I am finishing my M.B.A. at a university here in Lebanon.”
(Huh?! Isn’t it usually the other way around??)

Powerpuff: “…..”

After their enthralling “conversation”, Brad’s friend magically pops up and lingers around them for about an hour. Powerpuff can’t figure out what would be more torturing: listening to their boring conversation until her ears explode or staring at the sun until her eyes burn. Brad announces that he is starving and they all agree to eat. Brad’s friend recommends a certain restaurant at the resort because it is “affordable” – Brad is delighted. (Affordable: a word not to be used on a first date.)

As they sit down to eat, Brad’s brother joins them, and Brad introduces Powerpuff as his girlfriend. Brad orders a hamburger, his brother orders a jumbo meal, and Powerpuff orders the most insignificant sandwich on the menu. When their food arrives, Brad realizes that his burger is accompanied by potato wedges instead of french fries. He insists on calling the waitress and making her life hell:

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wlooo-dates-from-hell-part-i-the-stingy-brad-pitt/

 

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.

Daddy’s Girl, “Bint el Pap”

After more than a decade of living in Lebanon, I found that dividing people up into genres makes it easier for me to identify and deal with them. Although we are all somehow Daddy’s Girls (and it is great), within this genre lies the most annoying species known to mankind: the LEBANESY “yiiyy yaaayy ya alla” Daddy’s Girl, also known as “Bint El Pap”. I came across this shocking species of girls a few months ago (the 8th world wonders) and wanted to share the horror with you.

Bint El Pap is . . . useless. All she cares about is appearances, so she invests every ounce of her time and energy into looking good. Ironically, she has zero sense of style and at 20, ends up looking like a 45 year old woman. Even when going out for coffee, Pap’s Girl will wear all her makeup and accessories, her highest heels, and madame-like clothes (adequate for attending a wedding). Since these Pap’s Girls only care about flaunting brands, most of what they wear is fake; but they will continue to show off at how they spend over 10,000 US dollars on shopping each month (here’s a tip: people that specify the amount of money without being asked, are peasants!)

Whenever Pap’s Girl buys or might buy something new, she announces it to all humanity. In her nagging voice (made of the heaviest matter) she asks, “yyyyyiiiiiiiiiiiiiii . . . What car should I buyyyyyyyyy? This one? That one? The other one? The next one?” (As if anyone cares)
After being asked about her budget, she pompously refers to herself in the third person and responds, “Yyyyyiiiiiiiiii walawwwwww?? Bint el Pap ma 3anda budget 3end el Pap” (translated: Me, airhead. Pap, Bill Gates).

Among the other things that Pap doesn’t set a budget for, is a new nose for his stunning petite goat. She gets rhinoplasty and/or breast enlargement surgery done before she is 18. The sooner she stops looking like she has a bird’s beak instead of a nose, the sooner she can start blossoming into the divine flower that she is. She will also undergo full body laser hair removal (since she is hairier than a baboon) and live on a never-ending diet so that her bum-bum continues to fit in her “designer” jeans.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wlooo-daddys-girl-bint-el-pap/

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.

The Peter Pan Syndrome

Ever since I started maturing into the young lady that I am (the Duchess of York), I’ve heard peasant-like talk as such, “Hurry; find a man before your train leaves the station at 28 – women age before men.” “Your market is high now. After 28, men will lose their interest in you and go for younger women.” (Yeah, younger women who are still in their mothers’ wombs)

I tend to feel like women are a piece of art; observed (for long hours), studied, critiqued, sometimes appreciated, and many times not understood. A piece of art is still an object though, and I am sure that many women out there are tired of feeling like objects, cut us some slack, please!

I would like to change the perspective a little on this matter, and discuss the “train leaving a man’s station” – post 33 (since men age so gracefully, and mature so . . . so slowly).

I have a few male friends (post-33) who are good looking, have great personalities, with proper backgrounds, fine jobs, and are still unmarried. Their lifestyles consist of hitting the bars and clubs several nights a week, engaging in one night stands, and driving fast cars (a. to boost their childish egos, and b. to pick up Ms. One-Night-Stand #623). As a result, they are almost always tired for work, they are almost never taken seriously, and they simply cannot act their age.

Face it guys, if you’re a few years away from 40, it is not sexy at all to be out getting drunk every night with 20 year old bimbos who can’t spell the word “pedophile”.

It is not cool that you’re getting your first grey hairs and are still waking up with a hangover (when that happens again, please look at your reflection in the mirror – your starting-to-wrinkle face, your puffy eyes – and apprehend how pathetic you look).

It is not cool that all your entourage is at least 7 years younger than you because all friends your age have families, careers, and lifestyles that fit their maturity level.

As if all that weren’t bad enough, most of these guys are still living with their parents. How is that even logical? And can you fathom the idea that Mr. Mid-Life will bed Ms. One-Night-Stand, while his parents listen in horror in the next room? Ooh . . . Sexy!

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wlooo-the-peter-pan-syndrome/

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.

The Bridezilla Syndrome

As the summer season reaches its peak, one thing that tops everyone’s list is weddings. I don’t know about you guys, but I find myself invited to several marriage ceremonies that constitute of the same cliché.

Since high school, I have met, known, and befriended too many pathetic girls who don’t know the first thing about being funny, looking good, or getting a guy’s attention. Oddly enough, these young ladies in particular usually seem to be the first that get married. Knowing how unpromising they are (by most people’s standards), all that matters to them is digging their claws into the first naive guy that gives them the time of day. In other words, Bridezilla meets her victim at a perversely young age and remains with him in a “dedicated, committed, long-term relationship” until he is either financially or psychologically capable of tying the knot as planned by her mother, grandmother, and any remaining living ancestors) while her boyfriend proudly boasts to his friends that he is lucky to have found a virgin who he can mold into the lady of his dreams (well, DUH, she’s 16 . . . pedophilia much?).

Now although Bridezilla has been an ass-kisser since the ice age, the minute her wedding date is set, she suddenly becomes the Queen B whose marriage is the event of the season that only the crème de la crème are allowed to attend (of course, being tightfisted is always the reason for why X, Y, and Z are not invited to the La Classe wedding). Bridezilla will also become the love guru du monde who never stops giving relationship advice to friends, enemies, siblings, trees, and furniture. She will say annoying phrases like “3a’belik . . . inshallah nefrah mennik. Yalla, sheddé hemtik.” (Yuck, yuck, YUCK!). My answer is always “metel ma allah bi reed. . . merci”, but what I really want to say is, “sorry but I actually have a life, value my career, and have parents who are willing to support my lazy ineligible self for as long as I want”. God forbid you are still unmarried after 25 (or OH NO, after 28?!), you will be pitied, judged, and expected to have a justification for still being single at such an age; like having male genitals or a fatal, contagious illness. In any case, Bridezilla will always give a condescending smile before she walks away to harass yet another person who couldn’t care less.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wlooo-the-bridezilla-syndrome/

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.

Man! Make Her Feel Like a Woman!

1. You complain she’s a gold digger, yet you take out a car loan to flaunt your expensive ride and live a showoff-ish lifestyle that you can barely afford because “that’s the only way she’ll ever look at you” – Ha! Well, what kind of girl were you expecting? The saddest part is, some men end up marrying these women. It’s simple, if you want someone true, keep it real!

2. You are NOT her father! You should never tell her how to dress, talk, eat, or laugh. Never tell her who she can’t talk to, and don’t smother her with constant phone calls when she’s out with friends. She has a brain of her own and knows her boundaries – if she doesn’t, then she’s not the girl for you.

3. You are not her bodyguard; if there’s a guy who is up in her business, she can take care of it – and don’t interfere unless she asks you to. There is nothing more vulgar than a guy starting a public fight to defend HIS macho ego.

4. A little jealousy is nice – too much is borderline psychotic. You have no right to accuse her of being a whore because she has male friends – it’s not like she is fornicating with them for Pete’s sake! When in doubt, hear her side of the story before transforming into the mighty Hulk.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wloo0-man-make-her-feel-like-a-woman/

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.

The Lebanese (Lira) Love Affair

When the typical Macho Man and Bimbo Barbie hit it off, we can safely assume that they’ll be married by the summer that follows. As pessimistic as I am, marriage is sacred to me – I am ready to die alone unless I marry “The One”.

In Lebanon, many women share similar beliefs – the average Bimbo Barbie is a gold digger that is searching for “The RICH One”. It doesn’t matter if he’s educated, cultured, or well traveled. His background, family, and history don’t matter either. All that matters is what’s parked in his garage, resting in his pocket, and sleeping in his bank account. Instead of asking questions like “Where did you go to school?” and “What do you do for a living?” she asks questions like “What car do you drive?” and “How much money do you make?”

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wlooo-the-lebanese-lira-love-affair/

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.