Jewaira tegool

Why can't it be ok for a woman to propose ? :)

Very Short Stories

She had loved him always. He asked her to marry him on her death bed. She smiled with joy then died.

@@@

They were in love for 7 years. He had to leave town for a job opportunity; that’s when he had to propose.

@@@

She told him when they first met that she didn’t like a relationship without marriage; he proposed the next day.



14/8/2006-KLM-Ask the Dust

An Angel Called Dana

Dana is the first grand daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Al X. Mr. X loves Dana so much that he keeps thanking his daughter for bringing him such a wonderful gift. The story started when Mrs. X wanted to go to Lebanon. Mr. X didnt like the idea thinking that it isnt a secure place to go to. But Mrs. X insisted. She even bought herself an apartment close to her family and friends. Mr. X had no saying but to accept reality and let them go.

Mrs.X took her daughters and her only grand child and left for a promised vacation in Lebanon. Her new apartment was ready and she couldnt wait to enjoy her summer vacation there. Mr.X didnt want her to take her grand child Dana; he was worried about her more than he did to his wife and daughters. But ofcourse her mother couldnt leave her in Kuwait alone.

Now I guess that you know what happened to the family the second day they arrived. War had started. Mr.X couldnt just sit there waiting for his family to come back especially that his precious little Dana was stuck there. He grabbed his car first thing he heard the news and drove directly to Syria then to Lebanon. He took them all and made reservations for them to go back by plane to Kuwait while he returned by his car.

It was all for Danas eyes. Mr.X who always feared going to Lebanon. Mr.X who was one of the first people who left Kuwait during the Iraqi invasion. All fear was gone, adrenaline for saving his grand daughter gave him enough courage to go all the way to Lebanon to save her. If it werent for Dana, his family wouldve been still stuck there. They were one of the first people who escaped back to Kuwait.

Love does wonders.

p.s. no spell checking here. if there are grave ones, please tell me.

Raining

It was raining

Lovers were french kissing

weinich ya lebnan

mino el maynoon eli ehid el barad fi deerta wiroo7 esayyif fi deera a7ar?

ana.

Its damn hot. When would Europeans get used to the idea of global warming and install ACs? Cooling ACs, and not the fan operating ones.

Even my chocolate is melting.

allah yer7omich ya lebnan... wiraji3 ayyamich. sij enni mare7t ella marrah wa7da but it was the best.

chan al7een ana ga3da 3ala jabal lebnan el 3ali eli ahlo ye3eesho fi dalali ma3a moza oo khathra bidal el fi6ees eli ga3da feeh.

للكويتيين الذين تجمهروا أمام السفارة الأمريكية

Click here

Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam

“Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam" playing in the background...

Indian incense burning in the car's ashtray


I and mere zindagee are resting in my dad's Chevy watching the stars on a cool October night over looking AlBidi'e beach.


He was so dark and skinny when dad brought him from the airport. "This is Rajkumar" my dad introduced him to me. He was our new driver. His wife had just passed away before he decided to come to Kuwait and earn a living. She was a medical doctor who caught a deadly virus on one of her trips to save sick children in southern poor areas.


Rajkumar came mainly to drive my dad to some distant areas my dad had to go to for business. There were days when I faked being sick just to let Rajkumar drive me to school. I was a senior at colleague and all my friends enjoyed driving their own luxurious cars, when I only cared for being with Rajkumar. I didn't know what I felt, but something deep inside made me want to be with him. The sorrow in his eyes? His tall slim dark figure? I didn't know.


Two years after my graduation and I still went out with Raj. He even drove me to the nearest co-op anywhere close or far; I just wanted to be with him. He was then a fuller man, less tanned, and smelled like my dad's after shave.


"You love him being around because your dad isn't around enough" my friend blurted out once. "He does what you command him to do. He's always there when in need. You are living a fantasy dear. Wake up; you can't be in love with your driver."


My friend's so called "reality shocks" hurt me but I couldn't care less. The joy of being with Raj was the reason I kept living. I had no sisters or brothers, and my mom was a social worker who helped people from the entire country, but forgot the one who needed her most; deeply captivated by lust for her driver.


"I can't touch you, mere dill, only 8 years till I gather enough money from your dad then we can go to Delhi and get married the traditional Indian way you dream of"


"Just like the indian movies? With all the flowers and music?"


"Yes, my dear, I will honor and cherish you"


"I will ride an elephant, run on the highest mountains"


"I will let my sister teach you how to dance"

"Kama sutra?" I thought to myself. "Remember that I don't like the smell of henna"


"Don't worry, our henna is original unlike the one you have here. You'd love it's smell. I will never let you cut this beautiful hair of yours. You will be able to wear sari without anyone gazing although I doubt that. You are so beautiful honey and you're great Indian grandmother's features are so obvious. I bet no one will know you're Kuwaiti there."


Raj plays "Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam" again with his curry scented fingers. My mobile interrupts the scene, It's "di3la" my friend who reminded me that it's near Fajir and my dad might wonder where his car is on his way out to the mosque. Raj drives me back home and I quietly sneak in to my room. I sleep for two hours dreaming of a lovely morning and a long nice ride with Raj to work.

Category: Fiction

Bahajir

بهاجر

Moody furry Monday's dog miss of the week??
Originally uploaded by bulldog1.

حبيت واحد بس ما حبني

حبيت واحد بس ما درى عني

حبيت واحد بس ما يازله شكلي

حبيت واحد بس ماعجبه اسمي ولا رصيدي

حبني واحد بس ماترس عيني

حبني واحد بس تشرط علي

حبني واحد من غيرته خنقني

حبني واحد بس أمه ارفضتني

حبينا بعض بس انظلونا وافترقنا

حبينا بعض بس أهلنا ما رضوا عنا

حبينا بعض بس دمنا ما طبق

حبينا بعض بس الموت أخذه في ليلة عرسي

تزوجت واحد بس اخذ غيري

تزوجت واحد بس خاني في ليلة عرسي

تزوجت واحد بس طلع زطي

تزوجت واحد يحب الحداق أكثر مني

تطلقت من واحد لأنه وسواسي

تطلقت من واحد لأنه عافني

تطلقت من واحد لأنه ريحته ماعجبتني

تطلقت من واحد لأنه بيده طقني وبريله رفسني

يا ناس يا عالم ويش أسوي

الناس مو راضيه تهدني بروحي

مو عاجبهم لا عزوبييتي ولا حبي

لا زواجي ولا طلاقي

ياناس خلوني أعيش بريحاتي

تري فيزتي جاهزه

باكر أطقها سفره

وما تشوفون رقعة وجهي أبد في ديرتي

**************

On a lighter note, enjoy this menage-a-trois

The Kiss
Originally uploaded by creativity+.

What do you want from life?

Do we have to want something from life?

If one didn’t know what he wanted, does this mean he’s lost?

Does this mean that he needs therapy?

This was an argument I had today with my friend who searched the entire directory looking for a shrink.

Dr. Foziya dree3: is not available.

“Something” clinic: the doctor answered the phone instead of a secretary and when asked for guidance he said that he’s just a counselor and that she can be referred to mustashfa el 6ib el nafsi for drugs.

NLP/mantra (not so sure) at AlRazi clinic: she is on vacation.

Dr. Marwan AlMutawa: the number listed in the paper is the number of a restaurant! So my friend called el baddala who gave her his house telephone number. The housekeeper answered and told her that Marwan no longer has an office!

Dr. “Something” (who deals with Jin): the secretary said “I don’t know I will ask and call you back”.

Why finding a healer/therapist/ or whatever is this hard here?

*******************************************

6abakh diaries

6abakh visited us at work today. This is the conversation that took place after saying our hellos:

6abakh: enta sawi 3aroos?

Me: la.

6abakh: laish? Ana kilyom wallah sawwi do3a’ 3ashan enta sawi 3aroos.. wallah ana 3ala tool enta fakkar.. Kil yom..

Bas allah mako yisma3.

He then felt guilty for saying such thing about God, licked his fingers and then tweaked his ears; their way for asking for forgiveness.

Flickr is blocked!

yannaw estakhaffaw!!! min sijhom?!!?!?

:E

minus zero

bah

bah
Originally uploaded by flamingoliya.

29/6/2006

اليوم عيد

اليوم يوم تاريخي

صج ان الجو حار جدا والمكان كان فوضى والعديد من الحريم الكبار استائوا ورجعو البيت بدون تصويت

بس حسيت بشعور غريب جديد أول ما حطيت الورقة بالصندوق

سعاده لم أتوقعها، على الرغم من اني لم أكن مقتنعة تماما بمن اخترت لكن العوض ولا القطيعه

حسيت أني انجزت شيء عود

شعور حلو وكأنه شعور بالانتصار

كنت مجهزة الكاميرا لتأريخ هذا الحدث ولكن شدة الحر التي تسيح البدن وخوفي من اعتراض بعض الحريم اللواتي لا تحب الظهور بالصور منعني من ذلك

أمي ذهبت منذ الصباح الباكر ولم يكن هناك أية تنظيم، انتظرت طويلا حتى خرجت بدون تصويت

ولكن حين جاء دوري ظهرا اعتقد بأن احد النساء تبرعت بتوزيع أرقام لتنظيم الدخول بدل من حجز أقرب كرسي للباب

كل الخبه من عشرات البنات المطشرين منذ أن خرجت من سيارتي وحتى داخل المدرسه، والله لو أحد المرشحين حتي ولو كنت مو ناويه أعطيه صوتي بس كان امفكر انه يولي البنات التنظيم بدل من اللزقه وتوزيع كروت المرشحين

لزقه وحنه ودعله ويدي انترست بالكروت المكرره

والكل كان ضايع مو عارفين شنسوي ووين نقعد

في ناس طافهم الدور وهم مايدرون ان في ارقام

جزا الله خير احد الشرطة الذي ارشدني

المهم

وانا في احد صفوف الانتظار، دخلت امراة بنقابها ولفت بنص الصف لفه قطرها متر ونص وهي تردد و تقول:

"الصوت امانة، الصوت امانه، الصوت أمانه"

اليوم كان عيد، وبس ناقصنا البخور والقهوة

حتى شكلي اهتميت فيه أكثر من كل يوم وكويت ملابسي بروحي

:P

With regards to my new template, I felt like I wanted to change and found nothing better that fits my current attitude towards the current events. I was planning to remove it today after the elections, but I think I’m gonna keep it for a while, maybe till I know the results.

And to those who can’t believe that it’s me, it is me. You can never know a person whole heartedly through a blog. And never ever judge by appearances.

That’s my tip for today, see you all later.

Who Killed Her?

I wanted to keep her teeth; they always fascinated me, but my aunt wouldn't let me
I remember when she used to scare me off by moving them in her mouth
I remember getting scared but laughing at the same time

She was Marry Poppins with kubbat buqul in her pocket
She always kept a spare sandwich in her big black bag in case anyone got hungry

When my little cousin knew she passed away, he said "why her? she was my best grandmother" and when my nephew knew, he asked "who killed her?"

I didn't feel like she was really gone until the ambulance took her body
at that moment, I felt the real meaning of "Goodbye"
I was saying goodbye to someone I will never see again, whether dead or alive

It was the first time I see a dead body
It was the same face, same expression
Nothing looked different, except that she was lying quite

One of her eyelids was a bit open and I felt her looking at me
No one knows what happens in the dead world, except dead people
One said that she was there listening to us; the other ridiculed her
I didn't know what to think
I felt blank

All I knew that I had to look at her face, a face I won't see again
Memories popped in, thoughts of death, I even imagined myself lying in her place
Who would be around me?
Will I be old or young?
Lying because of sickness, or an accident
People warned before my death, or a sudden death
Crying for me, or for the thought of death
Some may cry, you think it's for you, but deep inside, you just triggered an old emotion or a future thought

When we're alone, we talk as if it's just another day
But when people come, they hug you, pinch you with their mustache, wet your cheek with their saliva, and willingly make you want to cry
Like everything I do, I need to have perfect settings and mood for crying
My lenses felt dry, my chest felt pressured
I sip a cup of tea
I watch the play of a funeral
I remain in a state of shock
Unaware of how I should feel

Obssessed Psycho

I've got lots to say, but so little time. Most importantly is that my friend's husband is back NIYAHAHA. Second, I think that Dr. Fawziya Duree3 should join the parliament. Third, I'm suddenly interested in politics. Forth, I'm always late, and it's always time for the buffet; a thing that disgusts me. The sight of hungry women filling up their dishes and the thought that the discussion should be stopped for the poor hungry women who have been "here since eight". I still don't know who to vote for. I have made one choise only, can I double click him?


I'm madly in love with slippers. There are so many lovely ones, so many that they all fit.


I saw Foad AlHashim at Boots.


I am impressed by some Kuwaiti women.


يجب منع الأطفال من الذهاب للمقار الانتخابية
كان أمامي فتاة تبلغ من العمر حوالي 8
تصفق مع الناس وتيبب
ثم تستحي وتخبئي رأسها بحضن أختها الكبرى والتي تبلغ حوالي 12
أختها كانت تأكل البنك وترمي بالقشور على الأرض
وكلتاهما كانتا لابستان كعب عالى بو 10 و20 سم


بعض الأمهات يجبرن بناتهن للذهاب للمقار الانتخابية لازدياد فرص الزواج




Obssessed Psycho



I see people, remember bloggers, believe that it's them. Smile or talk to them. Go home believing that it's them till I know that they aren't.


I saw Samboose and Misscosmo at a wedding. I spent the whole time thinking of a way to say hello. But after I asked A3sab if they were there, I knew that they weren't and that I had imaged the whole scenario.


I see Don alot. But when I come close to the bike, it turns out that it's the Pizza hut delivery guy. Sorry Don, but my sunglasses aren't medicated.


Today, I saw Jewaira. We had Manicure and Pedicure together. But I still don't know if it was her or not.


Ok.. time to hit the sac and stop making a fool of myself.


What do you do when you want to sleep, but you need to blog? But you really need to sleep?


I blog, rest my laptop beside my pillow, wait for the first comment on my new post. Read it and smile (supposedly) then sleep.


This is one of the posts that I would definitely feel like deleting first thing in the morning.


WARNING:
G & A
Don't ever discuss my posts with me. Pretend that you don't read me.

Get Me Out of Here

We went to the parking lot and sat in her tiny sized car to see some things she got me. She was almost screaming while talking to me. Her voice was loud, she was excited over nothing, add to that how close we were in her small car.

I kept asking her to lower her voice a hundred times without any use. "This is the way we talk at home" she kept telling me.

This girl is the manager’s secretary. If you just listen to the way she answers the phone when it rings, you wouldn't believe that she's the same person sitting in front of me. She felt proud that talking out loud is the way they talk at home.

"But this isn't the way you say your aleeeeew (Alo) on the phone! How come you're so much different on the phone?!"

"Oh hahaha you see, it's kind of fashla (shameful) incase the caller was a man".

"But it's not just your tone of voice; it's also the femininity and delicacy you speak with!"

"Oh hehehehe.." Again feeling proud and confident... "Yes, incase the caller turns out to be a man".

*****************

As we walked back to the office, she noticed my slippers (n3al naydiyya) and couldn't help but say that X & Y (who are my closest friends at work) used to mock Z (a colleague) behind her back for wearing such slippers. (ya3ni eshqasdich?)

Her veil falls over her shoulders and she starts complaining, so I advise her to use a pin for support.

"What? I am not Persian" She announces.

(No comment!)



There are two new previous posts, please don't ignore them :P

Memoirs of a Single Girl (8)

Friday 2nd June,2006
I got an SMS from my friend telling me to get ready for Sunday to have lunch together. The message seemed like an "order" and not an "invitation"; It was an early plan and I had no obligations.

Sat 3rd June, 2006
I got a call from her at night telling me that she's in the area. We met at the closest cafe and chatted. We didn't have much to talk about. Her life is still and there are no happenings. We have different intellect and nothing in common to share or to discuss except reminiscing and mourning over past events. Her older son was coming back and forth from Kentucky Fried Chicken and her younger son was sucking a lollypop. "So when's your husband leaving?" I asked and it turned out that he had already left this morning.
"No wonder she reserved me since Friday... No wonder we met at the cafe; a thing we haven't done in almost a year" I thought to myself.

"You know what? It's a good thing that you don't have any single girl's diseases! You know like what my other 4 friends have. You see one suffers from tender breasts and the others have hormonal imbalance and as the doctor told them it's all because of the fact that they are still single; all will vanish once they get married".

"Thanks for the info you rude, insensitive &%$&&@&*@#$%" I thought to myself.
I went back home feeling very depressed over some memories that I forgot long time ago, but kept remembering whenever I saw her since she's always been the listener.



Sunday 4th June, 2006
I pushed myself to go to our promised lunch together. Thank God a mutual friend called and joined in; a party of girls never hurts.

Monday 5th June, 2006
I was getting ready for a reception when she called saying that she's in the area (AGAIN)... (Am I being stalked?) She wanted to meet AGAIN; good thing I had a valid excuse.


I feel used. I feel suffocated. I am neither her hubby nor his substitute. I am a Libran ruled by Venus. I don't commit to girls.

I am a blogger. I love my blogger friends. I appreciate and VALUE the friends I made from blogspot.com. I enjoy their company so much that I no longer enjoy the company of my old friends. I found the people I match with. It's only history that makes me keep my old friendships. They don't understand me, and I don't understand them either.

I get heart ache. I get stomach ache. I get short breath and my temper shortens.

We live in different worlds.


too tired to edit the post...
umm, there's a previous post... please don't ignore it.


Category: Spiced up reality.

Message in a Book

My friend got a gift from her boyfriend called "How to Walk in High Heels". It's about different information that vary from changing a tire or mood to getting out of a car in short skirt... burn a CD and not the toast and such helpful daily life tips.

The thing is that my friend feels OFFENDED although her boyfriend is just a friend; no love or chemistry what so ever.

So I want to know what you people think of this gift. Should she or shouldn't she feel offended. Is there a hidden message in offering such a gift? Or is it mere innocence?

Note: While looking for the book online, I found this site about how to walk in high heels!

Can You Read This?

I received this by email:

ONLY 55% Of PPL CAN READ THIS

fi yuo cna raed tihs, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid too Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55% of plepoe can.i cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt!


if you can raed tihs forwrad it.

So can you?

I Never Liked Dishdasha

More Shananiganz 013 (Large)
Originally uploaded by wings_n_fins.

But I think I've changed my mind.