I spend a lot of time on line (more than I should of course) looking at what other people thought was worthy of recording for the express purpose of entertaining other people. I'm curious as to what is going through the minds of these video makers when they not only record the video but then decide the rest of us are just as interested in seeing it as they were in recording it.

Now there are two categories of video snippets that are out there for our viewing pleasure...the purposely made videos as mentioned above...and the caught completely by accident snippets that are generally the more entertaining. We, as the viewing public, can make or break the "careers" of the video takers...we have the power of the "click".

I see these things go viral (meaning they are spread through the Internet like a virus with a million hits in a very short amount of time...hit meaning viewed) I see completely ordinary people suddenly thrust into the limelight simply because they caught someone on video doing something funny, amazing, scary, unexpected....or usually for most of them...something completely off the wall stupid. Next thing you know they are the headline news on Yahoo! and Ellen has them lined up to be on her show.

Soooo....I got to thinking (I do that sometimes)...I can do that. How hard can it be. I can video someone doing something amazing, wonderful, scary...or probably just bone numbingly stupid...and put it on the Net and ...walah!! I will join the ranks of the great 15 min famers...I will be a viral sensation and my name, Coolred, will be a household word...teenage girls will aspire to be me and teenage boys will wish they could date the teenage girls that aspire to be me.

I'm thinking here folks.

Soooo...I went out and bought that Flip video recorder up there in the image. Figured if I was going to record something that would make me famous..I would need a recording device (it helps I'm told) and that one looks fairly straight forward. Point. Record. Upload. Bask in Internet glory.

Repeat if necessary.

There is one small problem I have encountered though....all those videos I have viewed appear as if the person recording just walks around with their phone cams, or whatever they use, always on and ready to make history. I see people nearly get hit by cars (not funny to watch but still amazing) and there ALWAYS seems to be someone near by coincidentally filming them. I suppose I could stand on a street corner and pray for a near miss while holding my cam out like a can of Mace at every car that goes by but...eh!! according to some videos...THAT person on the sidewalk is just as likely to get hit as the one she hopes to record...so maybe not a good idea.

Babies are right at this moment making their parents Internet Sensation Parents by doing something so adorable and smile inducing the rest of the world does a collective ahhhhh when viewing it.

I don't have a handy baby to go that route. Hmmmm? Thinking complete strangers with babies might not like me pointing my cam at their baby either. Parents can be rather rude like that.

My apartment building is known for its Daily Drama. There is always some girl throwing her cheating no good boyfriends things out on to the curb or the cops come swooping in with lights flashing and siren singing to break up yet another drug ring or....arrest a rent skipper. All very dramatic and worthy of a few moments of video taking...but then again...people involved in drama aren't always happy to see others taking advantage and recording their drama for the benefit of Internet stardom...they can be rather defensive about that....and cops..well they tend to get upset when you point ANYTHING at them...so no..better not go there.

Hmmm?

Could stand in the college parking lot and hope someone slips on the ever present ice and does a gymnastic worthy 10 of a maneuver....oh forgot..that was just me...and sadly nobody was around to record me do my thing. Unfortunately, I couldn't repeat that performance if my Internet life depended on it. *sigh*

One more option...have my trusty cam ready while I'm driving my trusty jeep around town. Have it on the seat next to me to be swooped up in an instance whenever something looks even remotely sensationalistic...I could do that.

Then again, while I am busy making Internet fame...someone else might be busy recording that "crazy lady who crashed into the side of the bank building because she was busy looking out her window recording someone doing something and not looking where she was going".

Yeah...I would totally be THAT woman.

Someone else would get the Internet fame and I would just get the ticket and bill for damages. Not good.

This isn't going to be as easy as it first seemed. Got some kinks to work out and planning to do. Instant Internet fame doesn't happen completely by accident...

Oh wait...

Ever Been Able to Stop Traffic?,,,I Have...

When we all lived in Hamad Town back when the kids were quite young...most of the neighborhood I lived in was empty for the most part. It took quite sometime before the houses started filling up with families etc...which meant that the first year or so we lived there we were pretty much alone much of the time. Which also meant...I spent a lot of time playing with the kids outside as I didn't trust them out alone and I loved playing with them anyways.

I was always one of those moms that played in the park with the kids...kicked the ball around...pushed them on the swings etc. I did this, mind you, in a country in which its considered a no no for women to be doing much of anything outside that can call attention to her. Running after a soccer ball and screaming and laughing with your kids definitely calls attention your way...but I didn't care...I loved playing with my kids.

Need I mention how often complete strangers would hiss at me to "mind my place" so to speak. Not to mention throw out the word "haram" all the time. Yes people, it was haram for me to play with my kids in the park. I was supposed to act like all the other moms and just sit on a blanket stuffing my face, making a mess, and gossiping with the other moms that weren't allowed too (or didn't want too) play with their kids.

Not me. I played.

Anyhow, when we first arrived in Hamad Town it was practically a ghost town. The houses were mostly empty and the area itself was basically bare. No trees, flowers, shrubs, color...all tan...very dead looking. Home sweet home....but...I was actually able to play with my kids outside without too much hassle from the very few neighbors that we had. We had a lot of fun and I pity the women who don't play with their kids when they are young (men too for sure)...you don't know what your missing.

Anyhow, at some point I met a lady that lived 2 round abouts away from us and we became good friends. Trouble was...we didn't have a car at that time so whenever I wanted to visit her I generally had to walk to her house. It took about 40 min probably as the walking was slow with the little ones.

At some point I remembered that I had one of those backpack type things you can carry babies or small children in. I figured we could walk faster if I could carry my littlest one on my back (I didn't have a stroller then) and the 3 older ones could ride their bikes. Started out as a good plan...but my second youngest was just too small to pedal for long...he pooped out quick...so I had to come up with another plan.

AHA!!! I tied a rope around his bike and the other end around my stomach...so now I was basically pulling him along while he pretended to pedal..lol. Off we went. The two older ones on their bikes zooming back and forth...the little one being dragged down the street while waving at strangers like the parade Marshall...and me huffing and puffing with the 50 pound 1 year old on my back...and the 100 pound 3 year old on the bike creating drag.

Or so it seemed at the time.

While I started out all eager and spry...half way there I felt like I was training for a marathon or something. I was gasping and sweating and wondering whose bright idea THIS was?

Oh yeah...mine.

Did I mention the affect we had on the people we passed by? No? Well put is this way. People literally stopped what they were doing to stand and watch this little procession pass by them on the street. I swear I felt like I should have been throwing candy or something the way they were lined up wide eyed and mouths agape.

I suppose we did make quite a sight. I had never seen any woman use a baby backpack type thing in Bahrain before (maybe they did but I had never seen one) and to be doing something like pulling my kid on the bike at the same time...LOL I could only imagine what was going through all those shocked minds.

Gave them something to break up the blandness of the life that was Hamad Town for sure.

It was worth it. We had a great time that day at my friends house. Only trouble was...

I had to walk back home like that too. *sigh* Couldn't walk without pain for a week.

How to Get Rid of Repairmen in a Hurry!!!

My washing machine quit on me so I called the repairmen to come collect it. I had just tried to run an orange colored fabric through it and so the tub was full of the fluff from that fabric.

Unfortunately the repairmen were a hell of a lot faster than I anticipated and showed up while I was still running my hands around the tub swiping up the bits of orange fluff...so I quickly gathered it up and threw it the first place I thought of as I ran for the door....my toilet bowl....which is quite near my washing machine.

Im fairly sure the repairmen had plenty of time to view that mess in the toilet because when they arrived they were full of smiles and chit chat...when they left they gave me a wide berth and could barely look me in the eye.

Hmmm!!! Wonder if this could have anything to do with it....(scroll down people)

















































I also forgot to pick up the pads off the floor before letting them in....so Im not sure if was the "mess" in the toilet bowl...the pads on the floor...or a combination of the two?

So what do ya think...did I scare the shit out of those repairmen or what!!!

So I Googled His Name...

So I had this boyfriend in high school way back in the day. His name was R.K. (initials). He was my first serious (really my only) boyfriend during high school and we didnt go on dates or even really hang out together much outside of school...because my father didnt allow me to date. I wasnt allowed to date because my older sister had travelled that path before me and pretty much screwed up all my chances of ever having fun as a teen with her constant desire to push the limits and break the rules (future post Im sure) oh the joys of being the middle child. Older sibling breaks all the rules so parents are more strict with you figuring they made a mistake being too lenient with older sibling. So you essentially get to do nothing with your teen years...then when younger sibling reaches teen years...they feel guilty for not letting you do stuff and have fun...so are more lenient with younger sibling. Meanwhile...you were still left with nothing to remember of your teen years...anyhow...I digress.

I must admit I have googled my own name on occasion...just to see if I matter out there to anyone. Considering Ive basically had no life worth googling I never expected to find much...but I was surprised to find some of my blog posts scattered here and there on other peoples sites...some of them translated into languages I dont even recognize (hey should I get royalties or something...sigh). I even came across a few of my letters to the local newspapers highlighted and discussions taking place about their contents....very cool.

But I never googled his name before...for some reason. He has been on my mind through out the years simply because I felt at the time that he was the first person outside family that I had feelings for but it never occurred to me to do a google search...just to see what turned up...but now I have....lets see what we found.

Now of course I wont post pics or personal info etc...its his life not mine...but I will mention some things just for chuckles sake (my chuckles that is...Im sure you dont care either way).

First some back story....

When he and I were boyfriend/girlfriend he actually asked me to marry him (my mother hated him but wishes to this day that I had married him instead of the pervert I did eventually marry...oh hindsight mother...what to do)...but he apparently forgot that fact somewhere along the way (I think it was right after my mother showed her intense dislike by trying to run him over in a grocery store parking lot...nearly made it mom...better luck next time) because I was shocked one day to see him walking rather cozily along with another girl...when he was supposed to be my boyfriend....oh the heartbreaks of young love (I could cheerfully have stabbed him in the neck that day...but I took the high road and kept my pride and anger in check)....but I called him and gave him an ear full...then called it day on that relationship.

Now funny enough...the young lady he hooked up with turned out to be somewhat of a psychopathic nut job (and thats not my jealousy and anger speaking people...swears)...apparently she had lingering suspicions that because he easily turned his head from me...to her...that he could just as easily turn it back again...or something like that...so anytime I happen to be in the store where he worked (local grocery store) or out and about and she seen me...she threw me some very hostile looks of jealous outrage and occasionally shouted some rather unladylike comments...how dare I come within one city block of her boyfriend (my boyfriend missy!)....whatever.

Now hostile stares I can handle...physical threats to my body I cannot without serious repercussions. Turns out New Girlfriend had some serious psychological problems....as I mentioned.

I remember one time I was with my sis in her car...some of our toddlers in the back seat...when we realized a car was following us....or to be more precise...tailgating us like mad. My sis did not take kindly to people invading her space and hit the brakes...by some miracle that car narrowly missed ploughing into us. As the driver backed up and sped away I realized it was New Girlfriend...couldnt figure out why she was acting all territorial and all...not like she owned the street or something. We let it go that time.

Another time when I was actually pregnant (and by which time New Girlfriend had become New Wife) and I was walking down the street...she came driving up onto the sidewalk nearly running me over...got out and went to town screaming at me to "leave her man alone" (dont know what that was about..I was married myself by this time...and pregnant)...and that she could "kick my ass and didnt give a shit that I was pregnant (nice)". I must admit she made quite an imposing figure considering she was quite tall in a Jolly Green Giant sort of way (minus the jolly) and ready to do battle against my short 7 month pregnant body...however...Im was not without my abilities...such as they were.

I calmly told her that its possible she could kick the ass of a 7 month pregnant lady (and who wouldnt be proud of that fact)...but considering I had been in the military she might want to entertain the thought that I might have learned some self defense techniques that would and could deal with her in a timely fashion...pregnant or not.

She hesitated as apparently this thought took hold....then started back stepping her way out of her bravado with more threats and warnings to "watch my back"...yeah...I'll do that....anyways. She left.

I must say I was just a tad pissed off. After all...I had never done a thing to her in my life...if anyone should be all jealous and crazy mental it should be me considering she "stole my man"...and the fact that she was seemingly quite happy to "take me on" regardless of my pregnant state meant she was happy to possibly hurt my unborn child...now she had crossed the line...time to reel this lunatic in.

I went to the nearest payphone (showing my age...no mobiles back then..ouch) and called his work (taking the chance he was there) and waited fuming for him to reach the phone. He came on all chipper and totally annoying...but not so much when he realized who it was.

I calmly told him that if he didnt keep his psycho mental crazy wife away from me then he had nobody to blame but himself if she ended up hurt...because she was definitely going to end up hurt if she kept at this crazy shit. I realized I dodged a whiny mommas boy bullet when he replied..."what do you expect me to do about it?" Well...lets see...talk to her...tell her to calm the f**k down and get on with her life and leave me the hell alone. Something like that...anything to call of the dog that was itching to bite and get put down for it. Seriously.

He simpered a bit on the phone until I hung up. Never realized he was such a wimp. Obviously she wore the pants in that family.

Shortly thereafter I left for Bahrain and never heard about them again...other than the odd comment about them from a friend who still lives there...anyways...good riddance.

So back to the point of my post. I googled his name to see what I could see. Well...they are still married...two cute little kids (darn!!)..he is into computers and IT stuff...certified with Microsoft for repair work or something. Travels a lot for his small personal business and misses his kids and wife when hes gone. How domestic!!

Likes to garden and collect matchbox cars as well. Quaint.

Now heres the best part (ok kick my ass about this later)...the both of them are about twice as big as the last time I seen them (he was big even in high school...she was getting there)...they are/were considering trying out for The Biggest Loser as a husband and wife team apparently. Sweet!!!

Ok my sadistic chortling over other peoples misfortunes is beneath me...but those two sorely did me emotional...and almost physical harm...so I feel I have a little bit of room to be gleeful. So leave me to it. Bah!!

btw from the way he writes about his wife...she still wears the pants...and big pants they are...ok ok Im done.

*Ive had a crappy week...need to find my chuckles where I can...lol.

Enough With the Rules...Whatever Happened to Just Having Fun?

Last night I was in Seef Mall with my daughter. For anyone that doesnt know we recently had yet another mall added to our already impressive collection (all within a short distance from each other mind you) called City Center. Since this new state of the art mall opened up Seef Mall has really seen a decline in numbers. How do I know this...well simply because you can actually find a place to park your car pretty much anytime you go there now (except the weekend as Seef has the cinema and City Centers still hasnt opened theirs).





When you wander around inside its almost like a ghost town at times...City Center has definitely put a dent in Seef Malls business...so the bosses at Seef have apparently knocked their heads together and came up with a crowd puller...or at least what they thought would pull the crowds.



A Cash Grabbing Booth

Now in theory this would seem to be a good idea for getting the crowds away from City Center and back to Seef...who doesnt like a chance at free money? However, I found the crowd (such as it was) less then enthusiastic considering Bd2000 ($5000 more or less) was up for grabs (at least thats how it was promoted).

Anyhow, first off I have to point out that it was quite clearly false advertising. Supposedly there is Bd2000 in that booth...but our largest denomination of the dinar is a Bd20...and it takes quite alot of those to make Bd2000...and looking into the booth you were lucky to see maybe 10 or so...with a few Bd10 notes scattered around as well...and some Bd5's just for good measure. The majority by far of notes were Bd1 and half Bd (5oo fils) notes....and anyone with a modicum of counting skills could very clearly see there wasnt even close to Bd2000 worth of those in that booth.

Secondly, they had so many fricken rules about what you can NOT do while in the booth.
1. dont move your feet
2. dont grab for money stuck to the sides
3. use only one hand
4. dont stick money in your shirt or pockets
5. dont jump up or bend down

Oh yeah, and you have 20 seconds to grab as much as you can...one handed...not jumping or bending or using your clothes etc...just standing there and reaching out into the air to grab what you can...fun fun fun!!!

Last but not least...you have to be present when and if they call your name...no shows are disqualified. So one guy who had run off to the bathroom (we are told) lost his chance cause they werent willing to wait 5 min...oh well...you snooze you lose...or something else...lol. The ticket holder was a huge tumbling machine that had several thousand tickets in it...there were only about 50 people gathered around at show time. Im thinking it wasnt advertised well enough so that people understood the rules or something...anyhow...

The first one drawn was Bahraini lady...problems right off the bat. She was wearing hijab and duffa. Now Ive never been in a wind booth but I hear its... well...pretty windy...lol....and the air is being blown from below upwards...are you following me here...chances are neither her abaya or hijab will take kindly to such rude wind.

So she looked around hopefully...maybe wishing the Presenter would just let her go into the booth sans wind and grab what she liked for 20 secs...you think...or maybe she was thinking she wished one of her brothers or sons was with her (if she had any)...but nothing. Eventually the Presenter had a light bulb moment and asked for a volunteer to come forward and grab for the lady. She looked around somewhat embarrassed as if he was asking for someone to model underwear she planned on buying...no takers at first but eventually a British teen volunteered and everyone was happy.

My only problem with volunteering for such a project is that things can get ugly if the volunteerer (?) inadvertently breaks a rule and gets disqualified (and very likely considering how many there were)...and if they dont do a very good job grabbing...someones feelings might be hurt and a little resentment felt...understand me?...but British teen volunteered and Bahraini lady happily accepted.

She was given a run down of all the rules and stepped tenderly into the booth on top of a pile of money. It was at this point we learned that only 20 secs were given to supposedly grab Bd2000 dinars...yeah right...anyhow.

I took pics of this with my phone cam but unfortunately I cant find the wire to hook it to my computer so you have to visualize from the pic up there.

Air was turned on...money went flying (although she was standing on quite alot of it and nobody advised her to move her feet to set it free into the playing field) and she started grabbing. 20 secs flies by in..well...20 secs. Its like no time at all. Started and finished before you can really get excited about anything.

It was all over and she stepped out for the count up. A grand total of Bd21. Free money and all but the crowd was obviously not impressed. Hey...its not as easy as it looks judging by her efforts...anyhow. Bahraini lady was smiling and offered the British girl Bd5 for her efforts. Fun fun fun!!!

Next was a grown man (not sure his nationality...anyhow) and he went through the whole thing and came away with Bd32. People were expecting more from him judging by the reactions...but what can you do...its wind and its paper and its rules rules rules. I noticed he actually dropped quite a bit of money in there as it would fly from his hand while transferring from the grabbing hand...maybe thats why they dont allow pockets etc...might actually get some money that way.

All in all it wasnt nearly as exciting as Ive seen on tv etc. The crowd tried to be supportive but with only around 50 or so...it was lackluster at best. The rules were unfair and unneeded...just how much money can be grabbed in 20 secs even without those rules? Seef promoters had a good idea but didnt really do enough with it in my opinion.

If your trying to draw a crowd...let them have fun for goodness sake...enough with the rules already. Life already has enough of them for us....20 secs in a booth full of money sans rules...now thats a crowd puller.

B12.......B.....12...next number called is B12!

I generally like spending time with my mom...shopping...sitting and talking...the occasional afternoon spent fishing...but the line must be drawn somewhere...sometimes, against our better judgement, we agree to accompany someone somewhere even though our "little voice" tells us...not such a good idea. I give you Saturday night at the bingo hall...

Mom has had to deal with a lot of emotional garbage lately as anyone reading my blog knows...so when she invited me to play bingo to "forget our troubles for awhile"...how could I refuse? I havent played bingo in years but if memory serves me correctly it basically boils down to putting little markers on your card of numbers...make a line or cover everything and you have a bingo...and get the ultimate pleasure of shouting out BINGO!! so that everyone else knows you got one too...sounds simple...and the best part...you can win money...Im there for you Mom!

Well, things didnt look too good right from the front door...the place was so full of smoke Im pretty sure I could have written my name in the air just by moving my arm in the appropriate directions...before the night was over Im fairly sure I inhaled a lifetimes worth of cigarette smoke and so cancer should be coming along nicely anytime soon...ugh! Ironically whenever anyone blew smoke in my direction...I replied by blowing it right back at them...and they had the nerve to look offended...WTF! (of course...being a child of my mother...I did not do this to my mom...she is my ride home after all..lol)

So basically to start the night out you must stand in a very long line in order to purchase your books. Each book consists of a set of sheets of paper...colored coded for easy reference...and I, being a newbie and all, settle for just one book...while others I noticed had several books...all laid out on the table in front of them. Some people were gluing their books together...for what I dont know...and still others were already making daub marks on sheets even though we hadnt even started yet (had we?). I realized then that ink filled blotters were all the rage now...no more little chips that were hard to pick up and even harder to keep on a card so that you kept forgetting which number it was meant to cover. Technology has even hit the bingo industry...cool!

As we headed for my moms "spot" we had to snake our way through tables and chairs that barely left room to change your mind...much less squeeze through. I noticed as I was busy squeezing that many people seemed to have a system...or maybe what might be called a ritual...in their spot. Some ladies had little animals or ornaments of sorts set up along the side...others had their little idols all around the perimeter...to keep the good luck mojo in...or the bad luck mojo out...not sure. I did find it somewhat amusing at the actual number of potential winners that seemed to believe their cards were winners all ready...and so kept a watchful eye against anyone that wanted to maybe sneak a peek. The easiest way to pick out these paranoids was to look pointedly at their cards for just a split second too long...and right away an arm came out to block your view...along with a look that surely had some black magic curse being whispered along with it. I decided the best option was to get to my seat without actually having eye contact with anyone along the way.... I do not need to add black magic curses to my dismal year now do I?

So, once your at your spot...apparently you set up shop by arranging your belongings...your good luck charms..your 10 different bottles of daubing ink...your 4 packs of cigs and overfilled ashtray...your dollars for future extra sheet buys along the way...and your paper bag that sits forlorn on the floor...ingesting all the broken dreams...I mean bingo game sheets that were losers. You also stake out exactly the same amount of space that everyone else has, roughly 2 square feet and God forbid if anyone should encroach your space with even a mere hint of an elbow. Im thinking there is great potential for violence...just going on the glares that are shot at anyone that passes the magic invisible boundary line.

There is a general air of fellowship right up until the moment the first ball is called for the first game...then all friendships are forgotten in the quest for the Big Payoff!!. Well, actually the first few games are regular bingos and so have small jackpots...but there are two blackouts which are the high jackpots...and thats what everyone comes for basically.

I dont know about you but when I was a kid a bingo consisted of 5 marked numbers in a line either up and down, across, or diagonal...one night of bingo and I can tell you its all a bit more complicated then that. There is actually a sheet given out that tells you what each color coded sheet represents and what type bingo you are required to get before shouting Bingo! So instead of straight forward bingo...there are triple reno's, which means you have to get three bingos on one sheet...and corners count....picture frame, 4 leaf clover...and so on...each sheet of squares of numbers requiring a different sort of bingo, so I, having one sheet of paper per bingo, had about 12 little individual squares of numbers that I had to quickly scan and mark and keep track of whether or not there were 3 bingos, one bingo...a picture frame...or whatever was required, on any given sheet. The Caller was way too fast in my opinion...and I was struggling to keep up...meanwhile women twice my age were daubing and gossiping and smoking without even pausing to catch their breath....and many of them had a table full of sheets...damn how did they do that? I would have been happy to have a side kick standing by to wipe my sweaty brow and give me a sip of water now and then...alas...I had to go it alone. Most of the time I had no freaking idea if I even came close to having one bingo much less 3 or whatever...my eyes were too busy trying to come uncrossed.

Anyhow, as the night wore on I did come close 3 times...on the blackouts which are fairly straight forward...cover everything to win...and needing just one number to enable me to shout out Bingo!...but always lost out to some "lousy no account that surely did not deserve it as much as I did"...or so I heard so many other women grumbling each time someone else called out Bingo!...that and a few more harsh words that I wont bother to reprint here...who knew the Bingo world was so cutthroat and that "grandmothers" knew such language?

Now heres the truly funny part about the whole night...as we played the last game...a blackout with a high pot...everyone started actually getting very ansy in their seats the closer we got to having a winner. I couldnt figure out exactly what the deal was...until my mother whispered to me..."be ready to go any minute now"...go where? What? I dont get it. Suddenly someone shouted BINGO! and before the actual bingo could be verified... hundreds of seats were being pushed back and about 5000 years worth of human life (did I mention at 40 I was among the youngest players there) were grabbing personal belongings...shrugging into jackets etc and headed for the carpark. I looked up just in time to see my recently smoking daubing mother on her way out the door with a shout over the shoulder to "hurry the hell up"...I hurried...what else could I do?

Out in the parking lot is was like a full blown police raid in progress with dozens of cars tearing out of the parking lot as if the Hounds of Hell were in hot pursuit...all that was missing were red flashing lights and someone shouting through a megaphone. Gone were the smiles and friendly chit chat from moments before...now it was apparently every man and woman for themselves. It would surprise you to know just how fast...uhm...older people...can move. After barely reaching the car in time to snatch the door open and jump inside before my mother squealed tires and made a dash for the exit...it all dramatically calmed down as soon as we hit the main road. What exactly the rush was to get out of the parking lot was I do not know...apparently neither does anyone else...its just a Bingo ritual along with all the others I guess...if you didnt win...dont stick around to watch the winner gloat?

Days later Im still coughing up second hand smoke and trying to get the red ink out of my fingernails...not to mention still seeing blurred numbers swimming in front of my eyes...and heres mom calling to ask me if I want to go on the weekend...uhm....let me think about it mom and I'll get back to you on that one.

Homeland Security my ass!...revisited

I was thinking about my previous post about my corrupt passport breezing through customs etc and subsequent scrutiny by dozens of pairs of eyes without so much as a raised eyebrow when I remembered a very different scene 6 years ago...after 9/11.

Picture this...in Feb 2002 I went to visit my mother for the first time in many years...everyone was telling me to delay it for awhile because airport security etc was such a pain to endure...but I was really missing her and decided it was worth the pain. Not to mention there was still lots of fear over flying and people wondering if other planes would be targeted...I figured thats a useless 'what if" to worry about because if it turns out to be your plane...not a whole lot you can do about it (but then I have to mention the passengers that hijacked the hijackers on that 9/11 plane and died fighting...but they still died)...also I had to take advantage of the fact that my asshole husband was actually allowing me to visit my family finally....even the potential threat of terrorists wasnt about to keep me on the ground...and away I go...but not just me...my 3 year old son as well.

So off the two of us went...had a really hectic flight over...with about a million and one security checks...with a very close look at everything...shoes off...the whole thing...but it was worth it....mom was the destination...mom was worth it.

So we finally arrived in Texas and had a wonderful month long visit...my son got to meet his grandma and aunt for the first time and really had a good time. Coincidently my son's 4th bday was the same day as our departure...so unbeknownst to me my mother...his loving grandmother...slipped a little bday gift into our luggage...something she knew he loved and would have a good time with...however..she forgot to let me know what it was...so the surprise was about to be on both of us....in a heart stopping "Im about to go to jail here" kind of way...anyone getting a clue here?

So I got to the airport...checked in...got on the plane...no problems. Sat down and arranged my son and I for the long trip ahead...just started to relax when I heard my name called out over the airplane soundsystem...anyone that has ever heard their name called out when you least expect it and in one of the few places you really dont want to hear it...then you know how I felt just then.

So person on the PA system told me to find the nearest steward/ess so I did...and the rest is...shall we say...a very gray hair inducing moment...as soon as they realized who I was they were all business. Now this was back in the day that I still wore the hijab...so I have a feeling that that combined with my sons Arab name and passport (he did not have an american one at that time) had quite alot to do with the unfolding events...but Im only assuming here.

Anyhow...right away a very tall and large police/military type man with an even larger gun was stationed right behind me...if I had bad breath...he was close enough to smell it...it was like that. Anyhow...I was escorted off the plane down the loading ramp followed closely by G I Joe and his entourage. He was damn near stepping on the backs of my shoes....thats how close he was. To say I was shaking in my shoes hardly describes my situation...all though my newly turned 4 year old son thought the "big gun" was cool and was busy asking G I Joe if he ever "shooted someone with it"....G I Joe just smiled...ouch! I was having the sinking feeling that if G I Joe hadnt actually "shooted" anyone yet...he might just be hoping today was the day he got to try out his nifty big gun...mommy!

So half way down the ramp there is a small enlarged area with a table...on the table was a box...the box was mine in which I had packed extras that didnt fit in my suitcase. It was sitting there unopened but might as well of had a spot light on it with a big flashing neon sign indicating this was the scene of the crime. Everyone hushed up and one man looked at me and asked "is this your box ma'am?" After swallowing repeatedly several times and wondering if there was any way I could deny ownership of the box because I all ready had a sinking suspicion whatever my mother put in the box was the cause of all this...I uttered in a squeaky voice..."yes".

"Did you pack the box yourself and has it been in your sight the whole time...?"...."Yes"...I squeaked again...but then realized my sister is the one that actually packed it as she is a demon when it comes to packing...she can get more into a box or suitcase then most people could on a good day. Anyhow...the man then said that they were going to open the box in front of me because something "suspicious" had showed up on the x-ray machine...what could I say...I demand the right to remain silent...and my box too?

So he cut the box open and I swear everyone was holding their breath...I know I was. My son was still seeing this all as fun time and was bouncing up and down and asking a million questions of G I Joe...who incidently had come to serious attention as the box was being opened. I cant swear to it but Im pretty darn sure his finger was on the trigger of his very big gun...ouch!

As the guy opened the box and started removing clothes etc...he broke the tense silence with a question..."did you really pack the box?"...I decided a confession was in order and admitted that my sister had actually been the "offender". He apparently was impressed with her skills and was sorry that he was undoing her good work...I thought that was rather kind of him...considering the circumstances.

Eventually he got down to the offending object...which turned out to be a pair of cap guns...those silver cowboy guns that go in a little gun belt and have been around for eons....that was my mothers bday gift to her grandson that loves guns so much. Thank you Mom! Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief...myself a little more deeply then anyone else...and G I Joe relaxed and stepped back and became Mr Charming. My son was still bouncing around and Mr Charming decided he could be nice to the 4 year old "terrorist wannabe" after all and bent down to impress him with the big gun...(my knees were just starting to stop knocking against each other so painfully...still thanking you mom).

Long story short...the guy tried very hard to pack the box back to its original condition...an impossible feat of course...so lots and lots of tape had to suffice. Everyone started chatting and included me in the chat where as before I was pretty much ignored...being the "suspect" and all. I was given plenty of helpful advice on what not to pack in any future luggage...like you have to tell me twice? And after everything was in ship shape I was escorted back to the plane with plenty of smiles and wishes for a comfortable flight...as if! Of course every single passenger I passed gave me the "what did you do to get taken off the plane...and even though you are let back
on...should we be prudent and get off ourselves...just to be safe?" It was a true walk of shame if ever I endured one...and I had nothing to be ashamed about...go figure.

So thats my other Homeland Security story...a little more of what I would have expected when travelling with an incomplete passport...you would think...right?

PS any guesses as to who the first person I called when I got home was and what words of greeting I had for her...you betcha!

Just when you gotta "go" in the worst way....!

So...had to spend some time at the American Embassy today....havent been there in awhile and I couldnt help notice a few changes had been made.


1. A very long list of things not allowed inside...which means for those of us not aware of this long list...a long walk back to the carpark to leave all the forbidden contraband behind. Now I can understand the reasoning behind making visitors park half a mile away from the entrance(America is not high on the list of the worlds favorite neighbors)...but does anyone who comes up with these parking guidelines ever consider that Bahrain practically combusts during the hot summer months...and scheduling passport hours from 1 pm to 3 pm just sounds like pre meditated homicide. By the time I managed to stumble my way back to the blessed cool interior of the Big Square Box aka American Embassy...I was hallucinating and babbling incoherently....and of course the water dispensor cups were all finished. Which leads to point 2...


2. There is one long really wide couch running alongside the wall in the waiting room...not sure why its that big...I realize that American butts are growing at an alarming rate these days...but lets get real. When you sit on the thing...your feet barely touch the floor and, for us shorter legged people...the backs of your knees dont hit the edge just right...so your left with your legs sort of splayed out in front of you. I figure its to keep you uncomfortable and unable to form a plot to rush the windows or something like that....but after walking for a century in the hot burning sun...I was happy to just sit...splayed legged and all...but no water to keep my poor tongue from sticking to the roof of my mouth...which leads to point 3...

3. My desire for some water was quickly replaced by my desire to recycle some water I had all ready drank earlier in the day...I remembered from earlier visits that a bathroom was just outside the waiting room area...but was rather caught off guard when I was informed that bathrooms were no longer open for public use......Okay!


So lets get this straight....after hiking through the hot blazing sun and losing at least a marathons worth of sweat...not once but twice...and not even getting to quench my parched tongue before collapsing on a couch designed for the Jolly Green Giant...and being informed that the wait for my turn and subsequent action would no doubt take awhile(over 2 hours)...I was now informed that should I feel the need to "go"...I would be shit out of luck...nice! Well...you all know what happens the moment you realize you cant have something...of course...you want it more.

So....my dilemma....wait out my turn and try not to think of water or any form of liquid there of...but feeling dehydrated from the trek was forcing me to think of nothing else...and ignoring all desire to "go" even though I would have given my little pinky toe to fullfill that one urgently needed desire asap...or trek back to the parkinglot and possibly induce heat exhaustion and the death of some much needed brain cells not to mention suffer the strict security procedures all over again...twice all ready you know...just to find relief...but would result in my turn no doubt being passed up and being made to wait it out longer...or be forced to come back another day....hmmm lets see...choices choices...whats a girl to do...?

I must admit though that the people working in the passport and visa section of the embassy were efficient and charming. They had smiles on their faces(well they werent treking back and forth to the parkinglot were they) and took time to chat with each customer...making the wait a little less boring hearing the stories and whatnot. So I waited out my turn...kept my legs crossed(rather difficult when your legs are splayed as well) slurped some water from my hands...and eventually got my business sorted out...and left the place feeling better then when I arrived...not an easy thing to do when conducting govt business at the best of times.

I did have a few complaints though...other than the obvious ones above. There have been throw carpets on the floor since the first time I stepped through the doors. They are always bunched up and people are always tripping on them. It doesnt take much in observational skills to realize its an accident waiting to happen...if it hasnt all ready. Also, considering they have either confiscated or just out right refused to allow us to bring anything extra with us while we wait...we are forced to endure each passing minute with nothing to distract us. No tv...no magazines...not even the helpful Most Wanted posters on the walls that I use to spend time persuing veryclosely. Never know when I might recognize one of those "bad guys" as the guy at the petrol station...or my next door neighbor(to tell the truth Im suspicious on him all ready...he doesnt like dogs...sure sign of anti social and possibly subversive activity). Day dreaming of collecting a cool million or so for doing my patriotic duty and locking up some poor unfortunate all based on mere suspicion is the least this American can do. I might also add that there was nothing in that whole waiting area that even suggested I was on "sacred hallowed ground"(American soil to u and me) except for a few posters inviting potential visa applicants to stay awhile at one of Americas less hospitable locals if they choose to forge any false information on their documents. The guy behind bars in the pic obviously thought he was smarter then the US govt...obviously he didnt truly understand the scale of our abilities to search out and find deviants, forgers and all around "evil doers"...just ask ...!..ok I wont go there....but we know who Im talking about.



Anyhow, at least the pens on the table were nice...but chained up....hmmm I think someone doesnt trust the average citizen...even with a govt issued pen. Nice....!

One Man's Junk...?

I have a small flat...about the size of a pro basketball players right foot...myself and my 5 kids enjoy a certain amount of freedom of movement...as long as that movement is restricted to turning in circles...or the rare times we may need to change our minds about something...we often are forced to step out onto the patio if two or more of us are changing our minds at the same time...in other words...my flat is small...dinky...miniscule...a shoe box.

The funny thing about all this as that it seemed huge when we moved in 11 years ago...the kids were running throughout the flat screaming and having a good time...I was imagining curtains and carpet and painting the walls all sorts of lively colors...it was heaven. Heaven compared to the one room we all shared in my mother in laws house up to that point...it was a veritible mansion...and it was ours....of course the kids were little then and one still on the way...not to mention the fact that we had no furniture....not even a fridge or stove...to clutter the place up. It was an empty mansion....but it was ours.

Fast forward 11 years later and the kids are all grown up just about...elbow room has been reduced to eyebrow room...and even though we did chuck out a great deal of junk when we tossed out the "man" that owned the junk...its still pretty darn crowded...which makes me wonder....where the hell did all this junk come from?

I have things stuck away in corners...up on cupboards...under the beds...in other words...every nook and cranny has something stuck in taking up space...most of that stuff, I have no idea where it came from...and worse yet....I dont know why Im keeping it. Every few months I do a clean out...in which I take everything out...evaluate its potential as useful in the future...and either chuck it or keep it...most of the stuff gets chucked but a few months later the flat is stuffed again and the process needs to be repeated.

A short list of things I always have stored somewhere which I dont use and dont know why I always assume I will...

1. Plastic bags...I have enough plastic bags at any given time to cover my Jeep...which is good since this will afford it some protection from the Mindless Idiots that are lurking around every corner...but I rarely use plastic bags again...except maybe to put trash in...what I end up doing is putting all my "trash bags" into one bag and throwing the lot away...but next month I will have accumilated a new collection...sigh.

2. Perfume bottles...for some reason I save empty perfume bottles. They serve absolutely no purpose except some of the shapes are interesting and I like to admire them...up to a point tho. I recently tossed 12 empty bottles...pained my heart to do so but toss I did.

3. Boxes....Im a box freak....there I said it now maybe I can get that much needed help. I love boxes...small, big, medium...doesnt matter...and empty box has sooo much potential to be used again and again. When I buy something or someone brings something over in a box...Im less interested in the contents then in the box and all its possibilities. Ive often bought unneeded things just cause the box it came in was so interesting...said I needed help didnt I? Problem with boxes is that I pile them up and gloat over them and never ever use them again...so now and then I have to give myself a good talking too and convince my box lover greedy side that some boxes have got to go...after all...the flat is only so big..and there are always more boxes to be had...ha ha.

4. Dishes....I cant remember the last time I walked into a store and bought a dish...and yet my kitchen is stuffed with dishes. Most of them I dont recognize as being mine...but unless my dishes are mating or mutating they are coming from somewhere, Now and then my neighbors will send a dish down...by the number of dishes in my cupboards I would harbor a guess that my neighbors cupboards have been emptied and need filling up again...so I send all the dishes I dont recognize upstairs...they take the ones that are theirs and the rest come back to me. Who those remaining dishes belong to I have no clue. Anyone missing a dish?

5. Now the one thing I have lots of but have no plans of getting rid of but are taking up the most space are my books. I feel about my books the way some NRA members feel about their guns. You will have to pry them from my cold dead fingers and all that....for real. I happen to have at this moment more books unread then read...which for me is something of a phenomenon...very rare that a book goes unread for any length of time once in my possession...however, my newly acquired life as a single working parent has robbed me of my much loved reading time...will have to work on that but to get rid of even a single book is akin to asking me to give up a arm or a leg...I could do it but life would be hard and I would always dream of that phantom limb(book) that I no longer have. If my books reach to the ceiling and we are squeezing ourselves through disorganized piles of books throughout the flat...I still dare one of my kids to suggest getting rid of them to make more space....I would suggest that child consider moving out if my idea of heaven was becoming unbearable...for real.

All of those plus so many other things are constantly being sorted and thrown out (except the books) on a monthly basis...I fill up the front door area near the street with all my cast offs...funny thing is...my cast offs become someone else's new treasure for no sooner have I tossed it out the door then someone comes along and rifles through the pile and hauls much of it off. I hope they enjoy all that "junk" as much as I did...Im glad it found a new home...I would hate to imagine my boxes (sniff sniff) in a trash mountain some day...what a waste....on second thoughts maybe I should save those boxes just a little longer...excuse me...Ive got to go check the front door real quick.