Tag Archives: lebanon

Dear Sl*ts of Lebanon…

Cheating-Guy-Woman-relationship-homewrecker

Disclaimer: This is a rant – my angriest one yet – although ironically, I’m not angry at all… But, I guess there’s no better way to write this than by presenting a “below the belt” public service announcement to a horrible genre of women who need to be disciplined. I will not be reciting phrases from the Bible, nor will I be promoting world peace. If you find foul language offensive, this is not the blog for you, and you may move along to greener pastures. And as always, to those of you who are insecure little haters, please feel free to write sweet insults to me in the comments section. 

In the past three years, I’ve blogged about anything and everything imaginable, except the “home-wrecking ho”. After countless get-togethers with my girls, their girls and their girls, I’ve come to notice how the concept of friendship among women is slowly diminishing as we get older, and is being replaced with competitiveness – especially where men are related. To explain my point further and with more accuracy, we were all able to agree on one common point: we are just about sick and f***ing tired of stupid b****es who are obsessed with finding a man at any cost that they will blatantly and shamefully take a shot at any attempt to break up a happy couple.

They will lurk around any given relationship and wait like vultures to pounce on the next available man. God forbid these desperate sl*ts actually try finding an already single guy to call their own – but no – it doesn’t work that way. These lazy b****es have no time to waste, and are only drawn to what’s tried and tested. They firmly believe that if Ms. X was happy with Mr. X, then he must really have something special going on – and of course, the desperate vulture will no longer be able to resist f***ing off until she gets her share. It’s even sadder when her attempts are unreciprocated, yet she will continue stalking and groveling after the same guy for months because yes, she is that desperate and undesired. We all know these silly hoes don’t pose a threat to anyone, but neither do flies – and guess what? Flies are swatted because they’re f***ing annoying!

BUT, if a man does fall for those antics and gets tempted to cheat, leave or “get some space,” you may thank whatever higher power you believe in for revealing that he’s not one of the few good ones, and not waste a second more of your time on such a lost cause.

On that note, the very reason why men are almost always eager to return to singlehood, is because they know they’ll have 1001 desperate sl*ts, with no notion of any moral code, ready to pounce on them and their joysticks. Since these men don’t possess an ounce of quality in their bones, quality certainly won’t be what they’re looking for, let alone appreciate.

We all know that there are girls you fall for and girls you just f***, but the latter is really making life difficult for the rest of us. Nice girls are absolutely sick and tired of trying to explain to a man that:

  • 3 AM phone calls from crying, whiny, clingy b****es is wrong, nay, abnormal;
  • An ex “friend with benefits” who you’ve “benefited” in the past few months is not a friend;
  • A girl sending swimsuit photos and winks is in fact a horny sl** that wants you to slap her around in bed;

And that,

  • A stranger you met 3 days ago at a bar is not planning on being “just friends.”

This is just borderline retarded…
Men who need these things explained to them are just retarded!

So, to the retarded men out there, we all know you’re not actually stupid, so stop pretending to be f***tards and give us a break every once in a while. We are very aware of how precious your ego is to you – but get over yourselves already. This is getting really old, really fast.

And to the sl*ts of Lebanon and the world, I would like to say this:

First of all, we all know a sl** when we see one. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. We also know about all your sad attempts and strategies and laugh about them.

Second of all, you all need to enforce a strict female version of the “Bros before Hoes” rule – we can call it “Sisters before Misters.” It doesn’t matter if you know the girl or not. It doesn’t matter if you’re a desperate piece of sh*t who hasn’t gotten laid in months. It also doesn’t matter if you’re old, ugly and on the verge of releasing your last fertile egg. It’s very simple – being a man-thief is a BIG no-no. Why? Because you wouldn’t want another ho trying to steal your man – it is pure common sense. When a man is fresh out of a relationship, at least one of two people is broken – what kind of disgusting person would want to plunge herself into that equation?

So, why am I so angry? Why now? Because 1) I finally have 3 free hours to make this world a better place; and because 2)  in my 13 years of dating experience, I have never given the time of day to one guy who is 1) taken, or 2) fresh out of a breakup. In fact, I have always encouraged them to give it another chance or at least give themselves some time alone. Any good woman with a conscience would do the same. Any woman who has ever experienced heartache or betrayal would never forget how that felt, and would never try to be the cause of that to another woman. All I know is, there is a special place in hell for women that don’t help out other women, and that thought makes me all f***ing warm inside.

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Trend Alert: Transvestites of Lebanon

maya-diab-horrible

Hello beautiful readers, it’s been a while! Amid my crazy fortnight of rush projects and last minute deadlines, and while my beloved Lebanon could be on the brink of (yet another) war, I found myself compelled to write about a phenomenon that tops every single event happening around me: Maya Diab.

Disclaimer: If you’re a diehard fan of this woman, please refrain from reading the rest of this post, or you may find your world shaken and yourself insulted (for whatever trivial reasons you have). If you do choose to continue reading in order to rain on me with insults in the comments section, please do so by all means; I’m already tingling with excitement, and made this very long on purpose for those who consider that Googling a daily quote is “reading.”

Lebanese and Arab people out there most likely know who this “woman” is, but just in case you’re deliciously from a more distant land, Maya Diab is a Lebanese “celebrity” who started out her career as a model and “singer” in a female group called “The Four Cats” *LOL* — and was once upon a time, human. Just to be clear, Maya can’t sing – not even if the fate of planet earth depended on it. In fact, an upcoming alien invasion could happen because of the sound waves she has disseminated into space. As a name, “The Four Cats” was spot on; when these girls sang, it was like cats getting raped during mating season. This girl band (or whatever) only required the four pussycats to 1) look good, and 2) attempt to dance — picture two epileptic snakes and two drunken orangutans onstage. I must admit though — despite not having one talented bone in her body, with only one rhinoplasty under her belt at that time, she used to be quite a hottie. Now, not so much…

Those who know me are aware of the fact that I almost never watch local TV, unless I’m requested to or required to, because of the IQ-dropping programs on these channels. For instance, our dear Maya apparently hosted a TV show where random people or celebrities sang karaoke. I don’t think I ever watched it; I kept trying to convince myself that it could add some sort of value to my evenings, but counting the hairs in my nose would have been a more entertaining pastime. She then participated in a new TV show called “Splash,” which I believe to be the stupidest, biggest waste of airspace – in the world – in the past century.
(If any of the show’s producers read this and feel offended, I just wanted to say that I’m glad to be the one offending you . . . it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside!)

Splash - where Maya where's more clothes in the swimming pool than she does onstage ..

Splash – where Maya wears more clothes in the swimming pool than she does onstage ..

So, that’s Maya in a nutshell.

The last I had seen of her till now was at a hair salon I used to go to, where the then-preggers Maya would abuse the UV sun bed for 45 minutes every other day. I was certain she was an alien from a very distant galaxy, engaging in what must have been a prenatal ritual to adapt her fetus to our climate — think of a chicken sitting on its egg. To top that off, she would endure hours and hours of highlighting her hair, then putting on – not one – but three hair extensions. YIKES! Now that’s dedication!

Transvestites of the world, you better keep an eye out for this chick! Use her as inspiration so that one day you may be able to pull off the “drag queen look” as well as she does.

Thanks to Instagram (my newest obsession), after years of not seeing this beast, I came across certain accounts that post photos of Maya, the “style icon.” Now since I’m not one to mind my own business and remain idle about anything, this is where I must intervene. To all you men, fashion bloggers, women and children out there who find this thing attractive, I must ask you this, WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU THINKING?

The worst is that she is being used as a style reference point! Oh sweet lord, I don’t want to live on this planet anymore! *weep* There are even tutorials on “how to do the Maya Diab makeup.”

Oh sweet Lord...

Oh sweet Lord…

*silence*

Sorry to burst your bubble, Maya, but…

..You will never be Rihanna...

..You will never be Rihanna…

..Or Angelina...

..Or Angelina…

...Or a Fashion Icon...like Ever!

Or a Style Icon…like EVER! (and reg. the hashtags, yes, of course she’s glowing — she looks like a cross between a Phoenix and a Minotaur that was set on fire…

So, in an attempt to stop hating and start participating, I decided to write my very own Maya Manual, right now.

How to look like a Drag Queen Maya Diab in 5 Easy Steps

  • Just in case you haven’t had 84 hours to tan this week, buy 6 bottles of tanning spray (shade: carrot), and proceed to empty them savagely and furiously all over your body. Leave nothing unsprayed. Once you’re done with the obvious places, spray some carrot orange on the base of your feet, behind your ears, and on your palms. You must aim to convince the world that you were born a tanned Brazilian beauty with this enviable “natural” glow. Once you’ve finished, make sure to turn all the lights off and look at yourself in the mirror. Are your eyeballs glowing in the dark? Are you unable to see the rest of your body? Good. You now have the Maya Diab “tan.”
Carrot Orange is the new black

Carrot Orange is the new black

  • Maya knows it’s all in the eyebrows. How do you think she has all that sex appeal? The look you’re going to aim for here is very critical, so you must use the right subjects for inspiration — just like Maya did. Think: Burt from the Sesame Street or the late Rafic Hariri (God rest his soul). What do these two have in common? The eyebrows. What do we remember about them long after they’re gone? Eyebrows. Watch and learn b****es, because Maya discovered this secret long before any of us did: in order to penetrate a person’s soul, lock their stare and captivate their minds, your eyebrows must speak to them. They should be an entity of their own, with their very own solar system. That’s the massiveness you should be aiming for. Let’s start by running a test. Stand in front of a mirror. Measure your eyebrow to forehead ratio. Which one is larger? Your forehead? F***ing amateurs! Now go buy a paintbrush, because your little insufficient makeup brushes won’t do the trick. Dip your paint brush into grayish brown eye shadow, because black is so 1998 and you want Maya’s “naturally blonde eyebrows.” Paint your entire forehead with it — not the middle of course, silly, you don’t want a unibrow here; you simply want to transform your forehead to a browhead. Once you’re done, reach into your jar of hair gel, and apply some to your actual eyebrow hairs. That way, they will stick right out of your forehead like spikes (which are so in, like OMG!) and emphasize the fact that your eyebrows have a natural, untouched hairy look.
Oh yes, they're unique alright! (Kudos to whoever wrote these hashtags. Pure comedy)

Oh yes, they’re unique alright! (Kudos to whoever wrote these hashtags. Pure comedy)

  • Your clothes have to make a statement, a statement so loud that the gods in the heavens can hear them and strike you with lightning. What do you get when you cross a flamingo with a disco ball? Your next outfit (you may refer to the minotaur/phoenix outfit above). That’ll place you at the very top of the fashion icon list. More is more. Make sure that each of your outfits contains all of the following elements: sheer, feathers, sequins, side-boob, plunging neckline, backless, side slit, frontal slit, Angelina-thigh, sky-high shoulder pads and lots of colors. Now that’s a dress! Make sure that people need to wear dark shades in order to look at you for more than 2 seconds. You must look like a drag queen that tripped, fell unto some glue, then rolled around Wonderland or Oz. Are we done yet? No. Make sure you only wear Louboutins – and the sky high ones too. Not to worry, by the time you’re the next fashion icon, good old Christian will be dying to become your next best friend. You can then ask him to create a Loubi for you and call it: The Hooker-High Heel. It will be something women everywhere will be able to wear and plunge to their death from. Jumping off a cliff is so 1800’s.

    Hello, Bigfoot...

    Hello, Bigfoot…

  • Does your hair still have a natural shine? Can you still work your fingers through it? Tsk, tsk… Make sure you buy three hair extensions made out of lion hair. Backcomb all three with your natural hair – don’t worry, soon enough none your real tassels will be left. Empty an entire can of hairspray on your backcombed hair. Backcomb it some more. Let there be HAIR! Add lots of volume till you become a cast member from the Coneheads movie, or a Troll doll. Did you know that Maya has her very own Barbie Doll? Maya en miniature? Did you know that Maya looks even more plastic than her Mini-Maya? Don’t you think that is a sign of flawless beauty? Don’t you want your own doll too? Then don’t complain that your heavy hair is causing you neck pain, or that your head can’t reach the pillow at night. Fabulousness comes at a price. In this case, it’s everything that makes you a woman; so accept it, let go, and embrace being the new It Girl.
I don't want to life on a planet where this is considered "normal"

I don’t want to live on a planet where this is considered “normal”

  • Rule of thumb: why wear makeup if it’s not obvious to everyone? First of all, that would be such a waste of money. Second of all, how would you be able to deserve the title of “natural beauty?” Make sure to give yourself a deep, dark and penetrating glare. This has nothing to do with your soul, but everything to do with what brand of eyeliner you’re using. I suggest you buy that Egyptian Kohl, or whatever it’s called, and attack your eyes with it. ATTACK! The trick is not to discreetly outline your eye, but to retrace your eyeliner nine times; one for each circle of hell. The result should be dramatic enough to make men, women and children weak in the knees…the same way Frankenstein did. If you want to be a legend, you better start acting like one. Use the following legendary creatures as inspiration: The Hulk, Bigfoot, King Kong, Godzilla, Lucifer himself/herself, and the Medusa. Get it? Got it? Good. Now to bring out that hypnotizing orange glow, add some bronzer to your face and neck. By “some,” I mean the bronzer should last you three applications tops.
Scary stuff...

Scary stuff…

Now that you look like an Extra from a zombie apocalypse movie, you can pat yourself on the back. You’re now a ravishing she-male, a lion, a beast.

Meet Maya's Doppelganger. This made my DAY!!!

Meet Maya’s Doppelganger. This made my DAY!!!

As trivial as my new blog post may sound, what really saddens me isn’t Maya the Lion itself, but the fact that young girls are using this woman (and many in her category) as a reference for how to look and behave. What’s more baffling is the men that find her sexy, which pushes women to dress and behave like her to get their attention (although I’m convinced that men who find her hot are closet homosexuals dying to jump some dude’s bones – and Maya ,or Mario, is as close as it gets). I really advise these people to get out of their ignorance bubble and see the world. In self-actualized countries, big noses are sexy; so are small breasts and whatever imperfections girls have become obsessed with hiding. Ten years ago, I was dying to get a nose job. My mother beat the crap out of me and threatened to break my new nose if I ever got one. I then wanted to enlarge my breasts. Same child abuse happened. She then explained to me that I can’t get by on my looks forever, and need to invest in my insides, or else I’d be a boring, unattractive has-been by the time I’m forty. Thank you mom; you and your generation were the last of the good ones. Today, I take pride in my nose’s unique shape because it makes me stand out. It gives me character. In Lebanon, it’s considered big, but when I’m walking down Park Avenue in New York, my nose is tiny because most women there chose to embrace their unique imperfections, and that’s what makes them perfect in their own way – and it’s sexy as heck!

As for the dresscode, seriously people, tone it down a notch. Wearing your entire closet doesn’t make you stylish; it makes you a hot mess. When I wear an LV bag in Beirut, I look like a peasant compared to the 18-year-olds with Birkins. Inversely, when I wear anything that obvious in NY, I look and feel like a showoff. It’s pretty ironic since people there are more confident, self-actualized and accomplished than most women here can ever dream of being. Those women who are sporting a curved nose and a $300 Michael Kors bag actually read a book from time to time and have something interesting to talk about. They have character. They don’t need a $10,000 bag, a $3000 nose job and a $5000 disco ball dress to make them look or feel appealing. There are some amazing women here, many who I know and many more who I only know of; but they are the minority. They’re not just impressive to a small clique of people; they turn heads everywhere they go in the world. These are the ones who should be looked up to.

I love glitz and glamour as much as the next girl, but there’s more to life. Boy do I miss having an interesting conversation with people who have their head screwed on tightly. I miss people who are actually good at doing something other than trying to look good all the time; people who have a hobby. I miss real people, real hair, real freckles, real eyebrows and real noses; and I’m blaming the media, plastic surgeons (like that douche bag Nader Saab) and transvestites like Maya Diab who are at the forefront, shaping and corrupting people’s opinions and habits. Don’t get me wrong; always look your best on the outside, but let’s not forget that what’s inside needs work as well.

I would like to end this newspaper with a shout-out to all the real people out there: Kudos to you, for making it this far with enough structure, substance and confidence not to conform to cheap and ignorant standards.

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