Tag Archives: Money

33 Things You Didn’t Know About Men

things you didnt know about men 1 La Wlooo!!!...33 Things You Didnt Know About MEN

I originally wrote and published this in March 2011. Much has changed since then; much hasn’t.. Enjoy!

1. Men don’t like snobs. And no, they don’t like snobby behavior either. Why? They interpret it as rejection and bad manners. Remember, there’s a big difference between having that sexy self-confidence and that turn-off, holier-than-thou attitude.

2. Men of quality will choose a neat and presentable girl over a good-looking girl any day. There’s no point in dating a Gisele look-alike if she’s dressed like a hooker. That being said, yes, your man will enjoy you being the biggest b**** in bed, but you better be a lady in public. Men take no pride in boasting a hooker look-alike girlfriend. For starters, his friends will either make fun of him or make jokes about banging her. That’s not flattering for either of you.

3. Stop worrying about your silly tick or your wide hips or split ends or small breasts; and most importantly stop bringing attention to them. When a man really likes you, he’ll ignore your trivial bad characteristics.
4. Never underestimate a man’s attention to detail. If you have Sasquatch toes, he’ll run away. If you have hairy arms, armpits or upper lip, he’ll run away. If you have crooked, homeless guy teeth, he’ll run away. If you have bad breath that smells like a bird flew into your mouth and died, he’ll run away. And although some women may tolerate some body odor on men, it doesn’t work the other way around. If you smell bad, your man will run away. Men love the sweet smell of a woman’s skin and hair so make sure you don’t smell like rotting onions that have been roasting under the sun for weeks!

5. Yes, women hate it when men compare them to their mothers; but oddly enough, a man is attracted to a woman that reminds him of his mother (think: Oedipus). So, if you feel his mom is an evil b****, it’s highly likely you’re an evil b**** as well. Embrace it instead of trying to pick at it. Why? Because men love their moms.

6. Keep in mind that:
Men cry too, they just don’t make a dramatic Shakespearean show out of it like women do.
A man can be infatuated by you for five minutes, then forget you for the remainder of his existence.
Men can go crazy over a woman’s smile.
When a man tells you he doesn’t understand you, it’s because you’re not thinking the way he is.
Whether he’s lazy or super hard-working, every man has dreams bigger than his ego. And we all know how big a man’s ego is, so don’t crap all over his dreams.
When a guy keeps teasing you, it means he’s into you. Not much has changed since kindergarten.  

7. Never underestimate or question a man’s ability or power. Whether he’s driving around trying to find that new restaurant, or trying to fix your phone or his TV set, never tell him: “you don’t know what you’re doing.” Instead, smile and be his co-pilot or partner in crime. Once again, mind the ego.

8. Men are self-conscious about their weight too. They don’t like having a beer belly or those extra love handles, so don’t squeeze them and say “oh how cute!!” No man wants to be your teddy bear, he wants to be your beast and rock your world. Again, with the ego.

things you didnt know about men 2 300x224 La Wlooo!!!...33 Things You Didnt Know About MEN

9. A man can flirt around with 54 girls per day, but right before he goes to bed he only thinks about that one girl he truly cares about; whether it’s a girl he broke up with 7 years ago or his current lover or his best friend’s girl. It all comes down to that.

10. You’re not playing smart by telling a man: “Umm, you know what?  . . .  never mind, forget about it.” You’re not being a tease; you’re being a stupid child. He will most likely jump to a conclusion so far from what you were actually thinking . . . then hell may break loose. Remember that thing about the ego?

11. Never talk about your ex-boyfriends. Men hate it. Their imaginations will run wild too. On that note, when you tell a man you’re friendly with your Ex; his mind registers it as: “my Ex and I still hook up every now and then.”

12. When a man asks to meet your parents, don’t stop him. You never know, just a few months down the line, you could be begging him to meet your parents – and he’ll be refusing . . . this sh** tends to happen. A lot.

13. No girl likes an emotionless man. The key here is moderation, so don’t keep trying to provoke your man in order to get a reaction out of him. If he’s provoked enough, you’ll be getting much more than a heated temper (and no girl likes that either).

14. When a girl says “no” to a guy, he usually interprets it as “try again later.” When a girl says “yes,” he interprets it as “I want you to f*** me.” There’s no such thing as being too hard to get, but there is such a thing as being too accessible. Men don’t like accessible girls, they enjoy the thrill of the chase and prefer a girl that’s a challenge; someone who’s been unattainable to the guys before him.

15. Although they will deny this, men are even bigger and worse gossipers than women. They have the power to spread a story across the face of the earth faster than a woman can put her shirt back on.

16. It’s smart thinking to test a guy before you can believe and trust him, but make sure that doesn’t go on for too long. Distrust on the longterm is interpreted as low self-esteem, and low self-esteem is a big turn off for any man.

17. When a man has had a rough day, he’d rather be left alone to lick his wounds (caveman style). If you’re privileged enough, he will share his problems with you. Don’t nag, don’t philosophize, don’t give advice and don’t breathe. Just listen to him and be there for him. Be quiet for once.

18. Although they may not show it, it’s super f***ing hard for a guy to move on and let go of his girlfriend after a breakup; especially if they’ve been together for over 2 years.

things you didnt know about men 3 La Wlooo!!!...33 Things You Didnt Know About MEN

19. During Courtship:
If a girl really makes a guy suffer, it would be tremendously hard for him to let go of her.
Men are willing to do anything to capture the attention of a girl they really like.

20. If your relationship is serious, it is more likely that the man loves you more than you love him; so even if a man tells you he loves you once every 34 months, there’s no need slit your wrists. It still means he loves you. Instead, try focusing on his actions, not his words.

21. Never dig into your man’s personal belongings without asking first. Whether it’s his phone, laptop, sock drawer or anything that’s his; if you’re looking to find something bad, you definitely will – and honey, your prying nose ain’t gonna like it. We all have a history. Accept that he does too and focus on other more important things, like why you’re such an insecure and nosy little b****.

That being said . . .

22. Don’t open Pandora’s Box unless you’re ready to face the consequences. Also, if you snoop around, don’t tell him or he’ll a) lose respect for you or b) begin snooping through your phone every single day just to spite you.

23. Men hate it when their woman is wearing too much make up. Men also hate it when a woman’s hair is full-on coiffed with half a bottle of hairspray squirted into it. Men like to run their fingers through your soft hair without requiring a wrench to pull their hand out of your head. They also like to play with your face and kiss your cheeks without hearing “eeeeek! you’re ruining my make up!” men interpret excess make up as a) a clown at a circus or b) hooker in a brothel.

24. Even if they don’t admit it, men do not appreciate it when they buy you a 2,000 dollar gift then receive a 200 dollar gift from you. That spells: G-O-L-D-D-I-G-G-E-R! It also says you’re an ungrateful person who believes she is entitled to receiving without giving back. If you can’t afford buying him something close to that value, don’t accept his gift in the first place.

25. When you want to “teach” your man something, do it in private. In public, they must appear to know everything. On that note, never try to emasculate your man in front of his friends or family; he will hate you for that. His friends will hate you for that. His family will hate you for that. They will all encourage him to leave you. Unless he’s completely whipped, he will most likely, eventually leave you.

26. If a man says “I’ll call you” and he doesn’t, it doesn’t mean he forgot, it doesn’t mean he lost your number, it doesn’t mean he had a family emergency, and it doesn’t mean he’s lying dead in the hospital. It means he simply didn’t want to call you. Why? Who cares! Next!

27. Always be direct with a man. Never use mixed signals. If you want to get what you want, don’t say “yes” when you mean “no” or “go ahead” when you mean “stay” or “I don’t mind” when you mean “don’t you dare.” Be a woman, damn it, not a silly little girl.

28. Every man is a pedophile to some degree. A man loves it when his woman acts like a baby and he loves her timidity, innocence and purity. Don’t mistake these characteristics for being “naïve, stupid, ignorant, weak and dependent” – men hate that.

things you didnt know about men 4 300x233 La Wlooo!!!...33 Things You Didnt Know About MEN

29. Men love a sexy, sultry, elegant woman who turns people’s heads when she walks into a room. Sometimes though, men prefer it if you wore no make up, a T-shirt with jeans and sneakers, and tied your hair in a ponytail. Simplicity is also nice.

30. Most men don’t mind if you’re short. They will mind if you’re fat though. When a man tells you that you just need to “work out at the gym,” that’s his polite way of telling you “you need to lose weight!” But – no man likes a scrawny, boney, semi-anorexic, breastless, butt-less, curve-less skeleton either.

31. When threatening to “unleash your inner b****” to a man, you are not intimidating him at all. Instead, he is a) disgusted, b) secretly laughing at you, or c) possibly not even listening to your empty threats and growling. On that note, a man hates a woman that loses her composure. Shouting and screaming is a big no-no. If you want to get your point across, think Al Pacino from the Godfather part I (not part III): calm and terrifying.

32. Men hate women’s drunken dramatic alter egos. Whether it’s aggressive, emotional, out of control, or plain weird, they just hate it. They especially hate it when they have to watch you vomit while holding your hair back – that’s your best friend’s job – at 16. At 26? Not so much . . .

33. Fact: Married men tend to have a longer life expectancy than single men, but married men are the ones more willing to die.



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Lebanon’s 3 C’s: Crooks, Chaos & Corruption

Lebanese professionalism and customer service continue to shock me day by day because almost everything is run like a vegetable market. Regardless of the industry or situation, companies will continue to abuse their customers because a) they can, and b) nobody is stopping them. If a regular employee is at fault and you ask to be transferred to a manager, the manager turns out to be even more insensitive, retarded and disrespectful than this staff member. It’s almost like there’s a mandatory training course on “How to be Unprofessional.”

Over the years I have tried on countless occasions to do my breathing exercises and not make a big deal out of the situation. As a result, I’ve been ripped off and taken for a fool every one of those times. My most recent incident though, was the giant red cherry on the top. I decided to roll up my sleeves and . . . blog about it.

After owning a car for several years, I had my first significant car accident in the Jbeil area. While driving on a tight road at a late hour, I noticed a single headlight coming in my direction. I assumed it was a moped but it was a disgusting mess of a car, whose driver had not felt the need to fix his missing headlight or his missing brain cells. As I swerved to the right to avoid colliding into him, I crashed into a vehicle which shouldn’t have been parked to my right. As a result, my front right tire disconnected from the rest of my dented car, leaving me unable to drive on three wheels – I know this because I tried. Having believed that Allianz Sna is the best insurance company, I insured my car there and experienced no problem with them in the past few years – apparently because I’d never been in a noteworthy car accident.

I called the car accident expert from the brochure attached to my insurance policy because the car I’d crashed into was not insured – La Shou? The brochure has several experts from almost every region in Lebanon. The purpose of this, of course, is so that the so-called expert can arrive to the scene of the accident as soon as possible. The result was nothing as such. Although he lives in Jbeil probably ten minutes away from where I was waiting, the half-asleep expert arrived after two hours later without even apologizing for the delay. After wasting three hours of my time, I finally called the F.A.S.T. tow truck service, which arrived an hour and a half later only to inform me that my car cannot be towed by that truck – I’d have to request another type of tow truck, one that my insurance wouldn’t cover.
Now why wasn’t I surprised? I should have had a crystal ball upon signing my “all risk” insurance policy that supposedly covered everything; one that would show me the hundreds of loopholes cleverly designed to rid me of my rights. I should have also taken a crash course on tow trucks.
After the driver left, I called a cab (who was also late) to drop me home, with over four hours of my life that I’d never get back.

" At F.A.S.T, we have built a core of satisfied customers, offering a rapid and honest service."

First thing Monday morning, I woke up to call from a stranger.
Stranger: “Hamdella Aal Salemé.”
Me: “Who are you?”
Stranger: “I own the gas station where your car is parked.”
Me:How did you get my number?”
Stranger: “I got it from the car accident expert.”
Me:How do you even know each other?”
Stranger: “We all know each other in Jbeil. So, will you be towing your car any time soon?”
Me: “Yes, I just called the tow truck.”

. . . So all Jbeil probably knew my name, number, how my accident happened and that I was dying for a ladies’ room for four hours.

I called the F.A.S.T. tow truck service at 11 am. I was informed that the only available “special” tow truck needed an hour and half to reach the Jbeil area because its departure point is Haret Hreik. I simply had to ask, “Where is Haret Hreik?” And after I was informed that it is in Dahyé, I died a little knowing that I’d have to wait till I’m sixty. The F.A.S.T. tow truck arrived at 3 pm . . . four painful hours later. At this point I wondered if the imbeciles at F.A.S.T. felt no shame – at all – with regards to their deceptive acronym of a name. I wondered if they ever felt the need to rename that unprofessional company due to ethical purposes; of course they’d have to know what “ethical” means first.

Bear in mind that I am a “clean fanatic”; and no, I do not have OCD. That being said, I watched in agony and horror as the semi-illiterate tow truck driver dirtied my light grey car interior with his filthy, black, charcoaled palms. While resisting the urge to vomit, I asked him if I’d ever be able to remove those smutty stains, to which he answered “of course!” I proceeded to ask him who would pay for the cleaning of my car’s interior, at which point he suddenly turned deaf and completely ignored my question. He then handed me my car key that was covered in a black layer of muck. I was suddenly very aware of all the germs I had come in contact with. I began sweating to the extent that I looked like the driver’s long lost sister. I felt dizzy as I looked at my dirty hands and frantically searched for my hand sanitizer before I fainted. He then approached me and with the utmost degree of certainty he said, “Get into my truck. We must go to the garage. Quickly.” I was surprised he knew what “quickly means, but I was sure it was at this point that he remembered he works for a company called F.A.S.T. I resisted the urge to say “SERIOUSLY?!” and instead told him as calmly as I could, “No. I will follow you in the cab.” He was very surprised at my answer and asked me why. “Because your truck has no air conditioning and it’s very DIRTY,” I retorted.

As we reached the garage, I paid him 70 USD against my will because I realized that others before me had only paid him 50 USD. I then asked him if he needed my car key, to which he replied “Later.” Later never came till I was two minutes away from home and he called me asking for the key. Comatose much?!
After understanding what he was trying to say over his 56 different lisps, I asked for the cab driver to drop me back to the garage. After scolding the tow truck driver for his ignorance and unprofessionalism, I asked him for the receipt which he had also forgotten about. He was offended; not by my outrage, but by my request for the receipt. I call this: professionalism at its finest.

Having had just about enough, I decided to call F.A.S.T. one last time.
Me: “Thank you for the hell that you put me through today. I waited four hours for your driver; he dirtied my entire car and forgot to take my key. I had to drive all the way back to give it to him; he wasted half my day and he did not even apologize. On top of everything, you ripped me off! What do you have to say for yourselves?”
F.A.S.T. Representative: “I cannot do anything about this. It is not our responsibility. Have a nice day.”

Oh no you didn’t you little turd!
My bad – I must have misunderstood that the F.A.S.T. tow truck driver is affiliated with F.A.S.T. tow truck services. SILLY ME!

I was fuming. Those two lumps of excrement had destroyed my mood and my faith in Lebanese professionalism. Could there still be hope after this?

Yes, the power is on my side indeed.

When I asked the cab driver how much I owed him, the last thing I expected was the following conversation:
Cab Driver: “You know, I don’t have to tell the company how I drove you back to hand over your key. And who cares about the 3 hours that I waited with you?” (Translation: TIP ME . . . and tip me BIG!)
Me: “Oh no, please do tell them.”
Cab Driver: “You know, I don’t even own this car. The taxi company does.” (Translation: No missy, I insist on not telling them because I ain’t paying for the gas in this vehicle. So, TIP ME instead.)
Cab Driver: (After getting the final price from his boss) “You know, I was once dropping this guy to the hospital for a dialysis. He bled all over the car seat. I didn’t care, but he felt so bad that he gave me a very generous tip.” (Translation: TIP ME! TIP ME! TIP ME!)

I did tip him, just so he’d shut up. Why would he tell me that a guy bled all over the area I was sitting on? Who does that?! I was too nauseated to even be shocked at how blatant he was about the tip. No hints, no beating around the bush . . . nothing.

I learned three truths after this unfortunate experience:
1. There is NO HOPE for Lebanese professionalism – ever – if we don’t start doing something about it.
2. Chaos has seeped its way into the roots of Lebanon.
3. An “all risk” or “tous risques” insurance policy is referred to as “touriste” and there is no point in trying to correct it.

All I wanted to do was get into the shower and try to figure out what evil thing I’ve done to deserve the horrible day I’d just had. I only wish that one day the consumers’ rights law will be effective in Lebanon. We are the consumers; we are the ones that are agreeing to this mockery by remaining silent. I only ask each one of you to take a stand the next time you feel mistreated as a customer. If little things like this don’t start changing, how is Lebanon ever going to become a developed country?

“Nobody can hurt me without my permission.” Mahatma Gandhi

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Money, Money, Money!!!

bank money La Wlooo!!!...Money, Money, Money!

The degree of unprofessionalism in this country has spanned beyond my understanding. Lebanon has indeed raised the bar for the level of inconsideration and disrespect for others; be it on a professional or personal level. The Lebanese professional world is run like a vegetable market; utter chaos. Over the years, I have mastered dealing with incompetent clients, dimwitted coworkers, and disrespectful, inconsiderate bosses. The one aspect of Lebanon that I felt to be professional (up until yesterday) is the banking system. I never thought the day would come when my money is trapped in a bank beyond my reach! This is one thing I never thought I’d have to deal with.

It started last night when a friend and I decided to head over to the mall after she’d been harassed by a Peeping Tom. Both of us still feeling frazzled, it seemed like a good idea to do some shopping, buy some books, have some coffee, and watch a movie to get our mind off things. As I stood at the Virgin Megastore cashier with three mildly embarrassing books in my hand, waiting for my turn as four men stared at my choice of books then glanced at me in shock and disbelief, I was convinced that my day couldn’t get any more awkward. Having used up all my cash and not having the time to stop by an ATM machine, I presented the cashier dude with my debit card and politely asked him to put my books in a plastic bag ASAP (and no you perverts, they were not porn magazines). Thirty seconds after swiping my card, he apologetically smiles at me and says, “Your card seems to have a problem.” As I looked over at the horrible four men (still staring at me), I grit my teeth and asked him to swipe it again. He repeated this for what seemed like a century until I remembered there were two ATM machines somewhere around the mall. I only had ten minutes to make a run for it and get some cash before the store closed, so I pushed and shoved every shopper in sight, like a rhinoceros, till I reached the first ATM . . . five minutes later I realized that no money was dispensed from the machine. WTF?! So I called the customer hotline:

Me: “Was a transaction just made for 50 USD on my card?”

Bank Dude: “Is your card debit or credit?”

Me: “Debit”

Bank Dude: “All debit cards are down at the moment – undergoing maintenance. Do not worry, no transaction was made. In fact you cannot even use your card for any transaction until further notice.”

Me:WHAT?! BUT I HAVE NO MONEY! I literally have 6000 L.L. in cash! What am I supposed to do now?? What kind of bank doesn’t notify its customers of a problem like this in advance?!”

Bank Dude: “Yes . . . Umm . . . Right . . . Well, m’am, please spend it wisely.”


I was enraged. I was hungry and thirsty too. Good luck finding something to eat and drink with 6000 L.L. and live to tell about it. I stomped up the escalators like a wild bull. People stared and whispered. I didn’t care. I was hungry. I wanted those books. I tried my luck again in Virgin. I wanted those books! The cashier dude begged me to leave and come back the next day, ensuring me that the books would still be there tomorrow. I now realize he was patronizing me. I convinced my friend to sit with me at the Starbucks till we came up with a plan B, since she was facing the same bank problem but laughing about it instead. I bought two bottles of water and as we sat there, the waiter informed me we’d have to leave in ten minutes because they were closing up for the night. I felt abused. He could have at least told me that before I bought the water (little did he know my card versus cash crisis). Ten minutes later, as I watched another Starbucks waiter mop the floor, I asked him if we should leave, “That would be a good idea,” he replied. “You don’t need to be so rude,” I retorted as I moved to another table. Poverty makes a person desperate.

There’s always tomorrow, and tomorrow is now today; and today, the bank system is ALL down. Not just the debit cards; THE ENTIRE BANK. Every single branch and ATM machine is down. I cannot withdraw or deposit a penny. I also found out that two other banks had gone through the same dilemma over the weekend. Here’s the best part: these unprofessional, inconsiderate imbeciles didn’t think for a MINUTE to notify their customers about this 24-48 hours in advance. I wonder how many people were having lunch and ended up washing the dishes because their cards didn’t work. I wonder how many people stopped at the gas station or went grocery shopping or to the hairdresser’s or God knows what only to discover that their trusted bank is taking a day OFF. As I said: VEGETABLE MARKET.

Since there’s always a hidden agenda in this country with regards to what’s REALLY happening, I’d appreciate to know the real reason behind this craziness. I believe all people involved (such as myself) deserve a written apology or a phone call; in fact I DEMAND one, along with some added bonuses *cough* to my account.

I now have so much respect for poor people and how they make ends meet. I had a nervous breakdown when I wasn’t able to buy my books. I suddenly realized how hungry I was when I only had four dollars in my wallet (regardless of the fact that I had eaten lunch less than two hours prior to that). I had several dramatic money-related epiphanies. It was very touching when the Starbucks waiter gave my friend a free muffin. As she happily ate it, I died a little with embarrassment and made a reminder to repay this kind man for being charitable.

“I cried all the way to the bank.” Liberace

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Marriage: Sex, Money &The In-Laws

marriage La Wlooo!!!...Marriage: Sex, Money & The In Laws

Marriage season is only a few months away, and while many brides are worried about what dress to buy, what venue to rent out, and where to spend the honeymoon, the more important issues are almost entirely overlooked. These important issues seem to magically surface during the first year of marriage and the newlyweds are in awe as to “what went wrong”.

For starters, newlyweds must accept the idea that they are starting new, at the beginning, and working their way hopefully up. Not every man is a millionaire and not every man starts off with the wealth of his or his wife’s father, since a man at 40 is at a different level than when he was 20. With this in mind, every woman must be realistic.

It is every woman’s dream to have her house on the pages of the Architectural Digest, with at least 500 m2 of space, a garden, a swimming pool, and a sea view; let’s not forget the nanny, 2 luxury cars, 3 vacations per annum, and the valuable presents (designer bags and diamond earrings). It all sounds so yummy; and even if you had these privileges when you were single and living in daddy’s house, when you’re a newlywed with no kids and trying to build a future, that is too big and too early of a dream because there are other priorities to focus on.
Some girls may have that messed up princess attitude and say “I deserve nothing less. Daddy gave me everything I ever wanted”.
Of course daddy simply cannot continue paying for you after you’re married, unless you’d like to castrate your husband.
To Daddy’s Princess: You should marry your own father. Who cares about incest when he’s flying you to Bali?
Keep your expectations realistic.

Many women like to glue themselves to their mother and cannot understand how much of a turn off that is:

  1. Because mama-glue seems like an immature child who cannot make an adult decision on her own
  2. Because mama-glue seems like a tattle tale who runs to mommy whenever big bad evil husband tells her “no” or raises his voice
  3. Because mama-glue seems like she was better off living with mama, single, in mama’s home . . . without the accessory husband.

Some women may argue that they simply need a three bedroom apartment from day one  . . . and it’s not due to real estate inflation, but it’s because they want their mothers sleeping over every other night of the week (possibly because they miss being an embryo in their mother’s womb). . . Grow up.
To the Overgrown Embryos: congratulations, you are on the right track of making your husband hate you. He will either cheat on you or divorce you in the next three years. Always remember this equation: Husband + Mama = Disaster = You’re an idiot.

It’s even worse when the husband can’t get enough of his mama and it makes you question whether or not he has underlying Freudian issues. For starters, it’s not cool to always compare your wife’s cooking to your mama’s. Remember: your wife has only just started cooking while your mama has been doing it for decades. It’s also not cool to let your mama interfere in your financials or when you’re deciding to have kids. One word: creepy.
To all Oedipus Wannabes:  You can’t have two women in your life . . . and there are limits to what your mama can do for you – know what I’m sayin’?

What’s worse than mama-glue is the family ties that never seem to break. Many newlyweds are unaware that when they are married, they automatically have a new priority: their new family. Hence, husband and wife come before mama, papa, and the whole enchilada. It is plain weird for husband or wife to spend so much time with their families . . . all the time. It is unhealthy, and at some point, one mother-in-law or the other is going to overstep her boundaries. This horror can extend to any and all family members: the father, the sister, the brother; and the sooner this issue is addressed, the better. Wife and husband have no right to interfere in issues concerning the spouse and their family members. What happens between your husband and brother is his business not yours. Also, what happens between husband and wife is none of the brother’s business. These are the ties that bind or break any relationship.
One thought: know your place and your limits.

Since salaries in Lebanon are crap very low, many men travel and work abroad to be able to provide a decent living for their family. As a wife, your place is with your husband; even if it’s in the most conservative, politically unstable country. It is unacceptable for you to live in Lebanon enjoying the fruits of your husband’s labor while he slaves away in a foreign country, by himself, only to see his wife and children once every 3 to 6 months. A man is not a money-generating robot; he has sexual and emotional needs, he is entitled to be next to his family, and is entitled to have leisure time apart from work.
I can’t understand women who choose to remain in Lebanon, close to their families, while their husbands toil away in foreign lands. It baffles me how these women claim to love their husbands; there is no love in selfishness and apathy. The best part is that these women expect their hubbies not to ever cheat on them; the man is supposed to remain celibate for 6 months, without a woman – hmm . . . logical.
Here’s a thought: a husband’s only purpose in life is making money for you . . . NOT.

Men like to marry virgins to satisfy some egotistical complex they have about conquering unchartered territories – whatever. Usually these ill men will end up complaining that they are unable to have sex with their wife because she is the pure mother of his children. This poor soul will go on to cheat on his wife because his “morals” cannot allow him to sleep with her and dirty her purity with his evil stick. There’s a place for these men, and it’s in a mental asylum.
Sometimes, it’s the women who have a penile phobia and want to continue acting like a good little girl because that’s the “proper” thing to do. That’s just weird. I hate how society has turned sex into a sinful act, thus injecting these “morals” into people’s minds.
My message to you: I would like to meet you, listen to your stories, write a book about freaks people like you, and become a bestselling author.

I believe that a couple must address these issues long before Miss Thang buys her meringue-ish wedding gown. Marriage is hard enough; the last thing any two people want is conflicting beliefs on important matters like the ones mentioned above. A long time ago, husband and wife used to work together at building a future for themselves and their kids. When they’d finally get to the finish line, they’d look back and smile at all they’ve accomplished together. Even after the passion is gone, they will still have respect and admiration for each other. Money comes and goes, mistresses will not stand by you through the rough times, and you can never fully enjoy or appreciate something unless you work hard at obtaining it. If I ever get married, I pray that I have enough patience, wisdom, optimism, and sympathy to make it work.

“Success in marriage does not come merely through finding the right mate, but through being the right mate.” Barnett R. Brickner

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Lifestyles Of The CLASSE And The Cavemen

snob La Wlooo!!!...Lifestyles Of The CLASSE And The Cavemen!

I love Lebanon; always have, always will. As much as we complain about the silly behavior, lifestyles, and traditions of many Lebanese people, nothing will probably ever change. So, deep down I’m glad that we’re all so crazy and thankful that I have something different to laugh about every day. To those of you who don’t understand the concept of “sarcasm”, please stop reading here and spare yourselves from feeling offended over nothing.

How to be “CLASSE” a la Libanaise

Always remember, everything in Lebanon is about being classy or “CLASSE”. You should eat at classy restaurants, stuck up woman 240x300 La Wlooo!!!...Lifestyles Of The CLASSE And The Cavemen!wear classy shoes, and even buy your mobile phone from Class and get ripped off or else it wouldn’t be the real deal.

You should always look angry while driving or walking (all three expression lines on your forehead must be visible). God forbid people see you with a smile on your face – they’d think you’re a peasant and “mish CLASSE”.

If you’re a woman, you must walk around like you’re smelling sh** and make it clear to everyone around you that they are lucky to bask in your “CLASSE” existence.
If you’re married, spend your afternoons at the ABC mall as you enjoy limping walking around with high heels on your feet and a stick up your a**. Your Filipino slave maid must be racing after you, carrying all the bags while she watches over your two little monsters who do not have one polite bone in their body because their “CLASSE” mama forgot to do one little thing: be a good mama.
If you’re single, spend your afternoons searching for a “CLASSE” boyfriend according to his daddy’s dollars (doesn’t matter if it’s dirty money . . . money = “CLASSE”). Once you meet this “CLASSE” boyfriend, tell him that you are a virgin (even if you’re not) because only virgins are “CLASSE”. Your nails must always be manicured and your eyebrows always tweezed or the “CLASSE” boyfriend will leave you (yes those are very important criteria for being “CLASSE”).

If you’re a man, you should always have a nonchalant attitude and an expression on your face that says “I am a man smoking cigar 201x300 La Wlooo!!!...Lifestyles Of The CLASSE And The Cavemen!billionaire that rules the world. Come, worship me,” even if you’re the biggest loser/poser/fake, people will be impressed by your “CLASSE-ness”. If anyone defies you, you must shout “Bta3rif ana min bkoun?!” (ah yes, you’re that piece of bird crap that’s been stuck on my windshield for two days).
You must have a table at a trendy “CLASSE” club every Saturday night and invite only “CLASSE” people to be seen with you. No table? No way! The manager is your friend and he’ll crap a table out for your royal highness.
A cigar might help you look good too – don’t worry about your breath smelling like dirty socks or about the fact that you’re sucking on something shaped like a penis cylinder. . . just sayin’.
Explain to your girlfriend that she must act “CLASSE” when she’s with you in public; she must laugh in a very low voice, talk to only “CLASSE” people, and not say “Hi” to anyone unless they say “Hi” first.
In brief, all behavior must be planned, constipated, and rehearsed in front of your mirror at least 5 times before you kiss your bovine divine reflection and leave your house.

How to be Rude Enthusiastic a la Libanaise

Remember now, a trip to the cinema is not just for the sake of watching a movie; it’s an opportunity to return to 1.5 cavemen 300x201 La Wlooo!!!...Lifestyles Of The CLASSE And The Cavemen!million BC and be a caveman for 2 hours! Before you are seated, you must create the loudest ruckus so that all the civilized people around you know that Elvis has entered the building. Once you are seated, spread your legs across the seats in front of yours (if those seats are empty). If those seats are occupied, express your anger by kicking and complaining all through the movie (your legs are more entitled to that seat than the person who actually paid for it). Instead of turning off your mobile phone, make sure to keep the ringer on the highest volume so that you can take that 20 minute call that is sure to ruin the movie experience for everyone present. Never go to the cinema alone; make sure you take your posse of cavemen with you so that you talk and laugh loudly throughout the entire movie, saying things like “shu ya eww” and waz-waz remarks whenever you see the actress’s left breast (because you’ve obviously never seen one before). Once the movie ends, you must initiate a unanimous ovation by clapping with your caveman friends for a good two minutes (remember, you’re at the LA premiere, not at the Cinema City in Dora).

A trip abroad is also a good reason to be enthusiastic. Once you’re on the plane, wait for the seat belt sign to go off and form an airplane gang with whom you shall talk and growl laugh loudly for the next four hours while everyone else is trying to sleep. No matter what your Lebanese accent sounds like at sea level, it is guaranteed to sound so much worse at 35,000 feet (especially when you’re talking about which politician you worship while others are praying that you suddenly stop breathing). As soon as the plane lands, make sure to clap for a good few minutes (not sure why people do this) until the pilot himself wishes that he had crashed the plane instead. Once you arrive back to the Rafic Hariri Beirut International Airport, the first thing you should do is light a cigarette and feel proud that your country probably has the only airport in the world that still permits indoor smoking. Even if you were only abroad for a week, you must now complain about the roads, people, and living condition in Lebanon; for you are now an enlightened one!


Wait for anything (anything at all) to happen in the country so that you may start arguing with your friends, neighbors, family, janitor, mechanic, florist, and butcher about who is right and who is wrong. It could be about politics, religion, football, basketball, cheese balls, or Blackberry versus iPhone – no matter what it is about, bring out that caveman in you and shout, fight, and punch the wall with all your might so that you prove you are right (yes, I rhymed).
Note: The louder and ruder you sound, the more right you are. Even if there’s nothing interesting happening in the country, create something to fight about – God forbid you remain civilized for 24 hours.

I am just thankful for my few great friends who still have a solid head on their shoulders and a complete brain in their head. I pray for Lebanon every day; I pray that it has a youth with enough substance to allow our country to continue flourishing into a cultured civilization while maintaining a core. If the contrary happens, I blame the parents not their kids.
To all parents and future parents out there: stop teaching your kids how to hate each other based on religious or political differences, stop teaching your kids that money is the defining factor in judging a person, and please stop teaching them how to be more like you – your generation has done enough, thank you very much.

“Your faults as a son is my failure as a father.” Marcus Aurelius [The Gladiator]

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Why I Hate Valentine’s Day

why i hate valentines day La Wlooo!!!...Why I Hate Valentines Day!

Whether I am single or in a relationship, Valentine’s Day has always proven to be a cheesy, corny, lovey-dovey, nauseating holiday for me. Call me dark and bitter – I don’t care, but V-Day has become – in my opinion – a “retail holiday” of no essential or valuable meaning whatsoever. I will never understand why people must wait for one specific day to express their love towards each other, or why a measly bouquet of roses that would normally cost 30 USD ends up costing 130 USD on V-Day – talk about price inflation! It may just seem like red roses, red hearts, red teddy bears, and chocolate in red wrappers to the majority of you; but I will take the liberty of sharing my point of view on this oh-so lamer than lame “hallmark holiday”.

Big Girls Like Big Bears: Let us all take a moment to reflect on the significance of an adult (and hopefully mature) Red Teddy Bear La Wlooo!!!...Why I Hate Valentines Day!woman owning an over-sized teddy bear. What-Is-The-Darn-Point?!
I once received a humongous teddy bear on V-Day and cringed at the idea of where I would place it. It serves no purpose whatsoever and has been sitting on the top of my closet, staring down at me for the past few years. Not only is it terrifying, but I had to carry it up several flights of stairs to get it into my home because it simply did not fit in the elevator. Not only did I have acute back pain for days, but I have cursed at every man who buys his woman a teddy bear (on any occasion) and have loathed women who love these useless gifts.
To all bear-loving over-grown females out there: You are not 5 years old anymore – grow up!
To all bear-giving men out there: Instead of paying 200 USD on a giant teddy bear, buy her something useful – like a pair of shoes (which she can at least fit into her bedroom).

Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue: A bouquet of roses is a lovely gesture indeed – and a timeless cliché that I am so red roses bouquet La Wlooo!!!...Why I Hate Valentines Day!sick of, to the extent that I’d like to vandalize every florist from here to Alaska. I would like to meet the person who decided that a red rose is the symbol of everlasting love (or whatever)! Here’s a thought: a red rose wilts and turns black after a few days – if you’d like that to symbolize your love, go ahead. A bouquet of red roses is also absolutely meaningless when it costs more than a dinner for two. A few years ago I received two bouquets of red roses on V-Day; one from an admirer and one from a stalker. As soon as I left the office, I gave one bouquet to my sister as it was her birthday, and gave the other to a homeless boy so that he may sell the roses to passersby. Now that’s how you can make a useless bouquet useful. Don’t get me wrong, I love receiving a bouquet of red roses (preferably not red . . .  and not roses) on any random day of the year – just not on V-Day when possibly every other woman in the world is receiving one.

Dinner for two: When a man takes his lady out for dinner, it’s not because he wants to, it’s because she wants to. God romantic dinner for two image 300x270 La Wlooo!!!...Why I Hate Valentines Day!forbid he doesn’t take her out for an overpriced, pretentious dinner during which they throw fake smiles and kisses to each other while they nibble on their heart-shaped potatoes.
Although I’m a fan of everything fine dining, during V-Day dinner I couldn’t help but notice how stuffy it felt – not only because of my pantyhose, high waste belt and skirt that were suffocating the life out of me, but also because of the people around us who were planning their every move to better fit into the lovey-dovey cliché around them. There were so many rose petals on our table that it looked like a cow had been butchered and was left to die on our table cloth. Every platter served to us contained something shaped like a heart. My boyfriend and I couldn’t stop laughing, and I realized that the only thing I liked about that cheesy, overpriced dinner is the man that I’m with and so next year I’m going to skip dining out and I am going to do something that’s a little more “us”.

A Gift is worth 1000 words: Christmas is only a month and a half before V-Day and I am sure most of you spent a Valentine gift ideas 300x300 La Wlooo!!!...Why I Hate Valentines Day!whole lot of money on all the presents you bought for your loved ones. That being said, buying another expensive gift for V-Day will obviously not be heartfelt, but will instead just leave a hole in your pocket – where your money used to be. I hate having to follow these rules, so my boyfriend and I decided not to buy each other presents because what’s the point? Why fall into that pretentious cliché of “OH what did your boyfriend get you for V-Day? Let me show you what my boyfriend got me” and then whoever got the nicest present wins because it can only mean that her boyfriend loves her more . . . Alas, the stupid people. Men on the other hand won’t really care about the 200 dollar gift and cheesy Valentine card they just received because they’d probably just be happier with a bottle of Grey Goose and cardboard paper with an “I Love You” written on it.

Lady in Red: Enough with wearing red already! Wear yellow or green or anything else so that you don’t all look like lady in red 244x300 La Wlooo!!!...Why I Hate Valentines Day!girl scouts or students in some catholic girls’ school! I don’t get it . . . it’s like the sky vomited red on everyone and I end up feeling like an angry bull waiting to attack. It gets worse though, because another cliché says that men must buy their ladies “sexy” red lingerie on V-Day. YUCK! I cannot think of one sane woman who would enjoy prancing around in kinky, uncomfortable red lingerie for the sake of being “romantic”. At the nail salon, I also noticed around 15 women get their nails painted red. I felt like I was Alice in Alice in Wonderland asking the cards why they were painting the roses red!

Declare your Love: Nothing will be complete without sharing your romantic experience on Facebook. Girls must facebook love La Wlooo!!!...Why I Hate Valentines Day!post photos of their bouquets, presents, and teddy bears (if they fit into the frame), in order to brag about how their man loves them. I would like to congratulate all the girls on my Facebook friends’ list who did that – the only statement you’re making is “I can’t believe a man actually loves me” and “I lack attention” and “I do not believe in privacy so please stay tuned for my honeymoon photos; close-ups on us making love, us showering together, and us feeding each other during breakfast.” Bleukh. Take pictures; memories are nice – but please keep these moments to yourself!

I do not possess an evil, dark spirit nor am I lonely and bitter. I am happily in love and more importantly logical, realistic, and possess a brain. I refuse to let the cheesiness in my heart take over the logic in my brain. I express my love to others every day and enjoy having love in my heart and my life 365 days a year. I will not wait for my boyfriend to spend $200 on a dinner for two, $200 on a bouquet of red roses, and $300 on a gift so that I believe that he loves me – I will leave that sort of thinking for the insecure, pathetic girls out there. By following my heart, I realize that these pretentious gestures mean nothing to me.
Let’s not forget about the simple gestures and actions in life that demonstrate love; and these are much more valuable than an oversized bear, an overpriced dinner, and a meaningless gift. Happy Valentine’s Day to all of you out there – please Google “Saint Valentine” so that you understand what this day represents; and I hope you celebrate it in a heartfelt way.

PS. Valentine’s Day is on the 14th (not the 10th, 11th, or 12th . . .) – just sayin’

“Any fool can make a rule, and any fool will mind it.” Henry David Thoreau

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Play With Your Golden Balls

how to get rid of christmas stress1 La Wlooo!!!...Play With Your Golden Balls

large christmas lights La Wlooo!!!...Play With Your Golden BallsBefore I wish you all a Merry Christmas (not Xmas), I would just like to recap the events of “the week before Christmas”. Under normal circumstances, I would have admitted myself into a mental institute, but being surrounded by this amount of negative energy, road rage, and rudeness while racing against time (and money) is enough to make anyone go mad! At this point, I think almost everyone is practically out of money, patience, and is in dire need of a foot massage. Instead of spreading fake notions of “holiday cheer” as I promised last week, I think it’s best to face facts that we should find ways of acknowledging “holiday stress” and dealing with it so that Christmas remains a joyful time of the year.

rhan478l 290x300 La Wlooo!!!...Play With Your Golden BallsInflux of People: As the amount of people in the country quadruples, the amount of oxygen, space, and patience is immensely reduced; especially because almost everyone is doing the same thing: Working and shopping during the day, and shopping and partying during the night. People are literally racing to stores to buy the last of each item and nothing will stand in their way. It is kind of hard to race in a traffic jam though; so instead, I watch as people stick their heads out of their car windows and start honking at each other and throwing insults out of their foul mouths -how festive!
I really tried very hard not to let this get to me, but I am just as weak and pathetic as the next guy. I have cursed at (and almost beaten) more people in one week than I have in the past year (Santa, I have been so good this year).
A good way to avoid this is to leave to your destination 2 hours earlier and ask the valet to bring your car at least half an hour before deciding to leave a club or bar. When being harassed by a road-raged driver, simply wind up your car windows and turn up the music (preferably to a cheery, jingly Christmas CD that will drown out the “tatar” insults).

eb2f049b a4d3 49f8 8ceb d3842841aebd La Wlooo!!!...Play With Your Golden BallsWork: For the working people, dividing time between work and family will most likely end in disaster. Your boss will complain that you’re not meeting deadlines, or not carrying your workload as you should (despite the Godforsaken fact that this is a holiday season). During this month, you will be expected to work against the forces of nature (and logic) to achieve the unachievable . . . or listen to how you have no added value whatsoever. You WILL be late for meetings as you try not to pee in your pants during a 4 hour traffic jam; bizarrely enough, your boss will always manage to reach on time and question your traffic story because it’s so hard to believe that traffic is mad in the month of December. A good way to deal with this is to start working 2 hours earlier every , and ignore everything work related after work hours are over; don’t forget that your boss is also under a lot of Christmas stress, and this too shall pass.

Family: I am sure many people have families living abroad who have come home for the holidays, bringing with them joy, warmth . . . and stress. Your family will complain that they are not seeing enough of you because you are always busy working and you are plunged into a never-ending cycle of complaints and nagging where it isn’t possible to feel an thumbnail.asp  La Wlooo!!!...Play With Your Golden Ballsounce of gratitude or cheer! (Grrr . . .)
Families will also make obnoxious remarks like “You’re too skinny” (then they’ll stuff you with food till you vomit) or “You’ve gained too much weight” (then they’ll grab your belly to crush the last of your ego before stuffing you with food till you vomit) or “Why aren’t you married yet?” (Then they’ll start explaining how they already owned a business, two cows and three sheep, and had kids who played the piano by the time they were your age) or in my case:

My Uncle: “I’m reading your column every week. A guy called J*** commented once – he’s amazing, phenomenal; he should be lawyer. He dissed the crap out of you and your writing. I loved it so much; I saved it on my computer. Come; let me show it to you”

Me: “Umm, thanks. I’m glad you’re so supportive of my work.”

My Uncle: “Yeah, sure . . . your writing – that’s good as well.”

When you are on the verge of stabbing a family member, cherish that they are here for a limited amount of time only. Stick to conversations related to their past (they tend to magically lose themselves in memories).

Presents: Gone are the days when gifts used to be a meaningful gesture. Gone are the days when you only gave survive christmas chaos 200X200 La Wlooo!!!...Play With Your Golden Ballspresents to a few special people who have made their mark in your hearts and lives. Now, it is: spend, spend, spend; buy, buy, buy! I never realized how many friends of mine are born in the month of December. Jeez! They are also very festive people that must throw a birthday bash to which you must bring a nice “little” present. Not only will you end up having two different budgets (for Christmas and birthday gifts) but you will contemplate death while you rot in traffic only to arrive to a zoo mall 3 hours later, to be pushed and shoved by a herd of elephants thousands of stampeding customers, only to find out that most of the shops have almost nothing nice left to buy! To my dearest December-born friends: you would do everyone a great favor if you celebrated a month later. Not only will you receive nicer gifts, your friends won’t secretly be wishing to tear your appendages apart.
There are also those unexpected Christmas presies you receive from people that you semi-forgot existed. You are then obliged, out of politeness, to return the gesture and buy them a gift (that is absolutely meaningless). To the “you know who are” people in my life: please do not be generous and thoughtful with me this season. Not only do I not care for you at all, but I do not care for your tasteless presents; thank you.
A good way to deal with this is to set a strict shopping budget so that you do not remain broke till Easter, and buy your gifts a month early – that way you avoid the mad crowd and the “out of stock” dilemma.

Decorations, family, and friends will always find a way to cheer you up (I guess). Look at Mr. “You Know Who” for Baoding Balls in Use La Wlooo!!!...Play With Your Golden Ballsinstance, he put up an unimpressive 11 million dollar tree that is surely more important than donating food and clothes to the poor; it is far more important to show off his large, shiny, golden balls to the world (that must be making up for his teeny weeny complex . . . if you know what I mean). Speaking of balls, a perfect gift would be the baoding balls that are guaranteed to de-stress anyone once they play with them. For a little extra something, get them gold-plated (and follow in Mr. “You Know Who’s” great, world-changing footsteps).

Christmas is a race to see which gives out firstyour money or your feet.”

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