What Does Your Devil Look Like?

Here’s my rendition of Mr. Devil a la "Paint." I kind of doubt that they’d go along with it, but I’m curious to find out what they would come up with. I tag the following individuals:

Closet Diva
Jambino
Tata Botata
7tenths

Note: I do not mean to offend anyone. I'm just letting my imagination run wild...like I always do.

PS Dusty Springfield - Son of a Preacher Man

at 9:55 AM 10 comments

The Harlot Returns

A sweet freshman from a nearby university called me a couple of days ago. Her mother was in the country for some time and she insisted on cooking up a traditional Kuwaiti meal for the few female students in the area. The girl had called a week earlier but I was too busy to make the weekday lunch. This time, however, I gladly accepted her invitation.
I entered their neat apartment and was greeted by her rosy-cheeked mother and was introduced to genial young woman from Al-G6eef who had arrived in the U.S. with her younger brother only a week ago to commence her graduate studies. After we engaged in small-talk about the weather, the area, and the universities, the Harlot burst into the room, clad in a fuchsia knit shrug, a yellow top that displayed her slightly swollen midsection, and furry Mukluk Boots over her airtight jeans that gave her a plumber’s butt even before she sat down.

“Umbaih! Erzulie I missed you!” She gushed false-heartedly as she wiggled toward me. As soon as I stood up to receive her superficial kiss, she blurted out, “Erzuliyo! Labsa ka3ab ba3ad!” Everyone glanced down at my Pumas. Here we go again.

After a while, we settled down on the tiny dining table and consumed our spice filled meal before heading back to the couches to gorge on the assortment of cakes I brought along with me from a nearby bakery. I was playing hostess, slicing and distributing the portions. I was on my knees, using two hands as I cut the cakes to place them onto the paper plates piled on the coffee table when I noticed a shadow hovering above me.

“6a3 hathi! Ta36eni akbar caika 3ashan it9eer ath3af wa7da fena!”
I wrinkled my eyebrows and turned to her, “La haw shal 7achi…ekthay eli tabeena.”

After twenty minutes of scarfing down dessert, I thanked my friend’s mother for the meal and excused myself, mostly because I had some work to do back home.
The sweet freshman offered to walk me outside.

As soon as we closed the front door, we heard her guffaw, “Shiftaw il farg beinha o bein Erzulie!”
The shy freshman looked at me and weakly smiled knowingly.

PS Elton John - Tiny Dancer

at 1:34 PM 15 comments

Wrestling & Soccer

“Okay, but no pinching or slapping Erzulie.” But whenever she ended up in a headlock, he knew that her flailing arms would attempt to smack or pull anything she could reach. Clad in a stained dishdasha with a slightly ripped pocket she earlier contributed to, he would playfully charge at her while she shrieked and tried to avoid his grasp. She usually kicked at him, that high, pointy-toed and rather useless move that was only aimed at creating distance between them so she could better her retaliation. Her older sister would pass by and shake her head, “Whay, machinich 15 sena.” But they both laughed it off and continued their match.

Their mother was not very fond of their version of indoor soccer though. Many a times the ball would smash into a frame, vase, or lamp, creating a loud thud. The two would stop, look at one another with the same, antsy, wide-eyed expression. The house was silent. “Shino hatha? Ishkisartaw?” their mother would call out. After inspecting the crime scene, one of the two would yell back, “La walla shay.” But of course, there were always unfortunate incidents, for instance, when one of the wooden, intricately painted bird statues was shot down by a forceful, slightly deflated ball.

Five Christmases later, she walked by the slightly injured bird. She stopped and held the cool, smooth sculpture between her palms. She smiled when she noticed the bird’s somewhat injured beak.




PS I memorized the entire soundtrack. This song really brings back memories. My cousins and I actually acted some parts of it out: the car scene and another clip where we had our hair in rollers. Go figure.

at 9:06 AM 9 comments

Hectic/Mad

As I’ve said before, this semester is the toughest of them all. Apart from my major’s grueling, time-consuming and soul draining course, I have loads of reading to do for my British Literature, Ethics, and Art History courses.
I woke up today in my, again, anxious and worried state. I won’t be surprised if I grow a few white hairs because of this stressful time. I’m sick and tired of school. I really don’t mean to sound big-headed but my grades are good and it’s just a hassle to go into my perfectionist mode once and again.
Let me get to the gist of this post: I do apologize for my lateness and lack in substance lately.
Other than that, I hope ya’ll have a damn good day.
And please excuse the shitty layout of my page; I was playing around with the settings and I ended up with a thin line of piss across the top.

at 6:19 AM 4 comments

Chips & Chunks

- My flight back was all right. I sat next to a German pilot on my way to Frankfurt. On my second flight, I crossed my fingers hoping to sit somewhere sans screeching babies. As luck should have it, my seat was right next to a young, English mother with her four month old baby. Now, I love babies and children but I don’t go nuts every time I see a kid in a stroller. But his baby…Caitlin, that’s her name. She is the most beautiful kid I have ever seen. I cannot believe I’m writing a post about her but she is the most squishable little thing ever. She looks like those fat babies on Pampers’ packages. And she kept on laughing and giggling the whole time. If her mom wasn’t there I probably would’ve snuck her in my tote.

- First day of classes went by smoothly. I have a collection of professors:
1- The elderly, student-savvy prof who cracks the funniest jokes.
2- The elderly, bland prof who was avoided by both joined sections; the
poor thing…I want to tell him, “No, we’re laughing at you!”
3- The 30-something, wild-haired professional who managed to
squeeze into teaching our class.
4- The soon-to-be PhD graduate teach who sympathizes with students’
packed schedule.
5- The Eastern European who has girls falling over themselves with his
cheesy accent.
6- The overly ecstatic professor who actually referred to us as “guinea
pigs”…it’s her first time teaching the class. Fabulous.

- MBH tagged me a while ago but I didn't have time to "show off" my desktop picture i.e. my literal wake up call. He he :P

PS Ben Harper - Walk Away

at 6:51 AM 14 comments

Rest In Peace

at 2:37 AM 7 comments

Leaving...

I'm going back to the U.S.
I'm a little bit tired.
I have a tough, maybe the toughest, semester ahead of me.
I packed my stuff today and everything was looking good. Then I remembered my cell phone. I looked everywhere for that damned thing. My sister, brother, and even father participated in the lifting of mattresses, furniture, cupboards...you name it, we flipped it.
I ended up taking all my clothes out of my two suitcases. But still, nothing. I put my stuff back in my bags. I was so mad that I kicked one of my suitcases. Now my big toe hurts. I went downstairs and had tea spiked with Panadol to ease my headache.
I hate goodbyes.
Crap.

at 7:51 PM 6 comments

Happy Eid

I hope you have a good one.
Kuwait is a bit deserted now; everybody's outta town.
I hope I'm not too old for "3eediya." Hehe :P
I don't feel like getting up early tomorrow; my parents berate me for tumbling down the stairs just in time for lunch. "Erzulie! You were never like this! Wake up earlier tomorrow." Then again, I do sleep at around 5 a.m. because my sister and I watch 2-3 DVD movies per night. We narrowed it down to one movie tonight because we both don't want to arrive at our relatives' homes with puffy faces.

at 10:11 PM 13 comments