Tag Archives: Society

You Are Not a Basic Bitch

fierce-woman

From the day women are born, we are programmed to believe that in order to fulfill our societal roles, we must one day either answer to a man, cater to a man or marry a man. The few women in history, who have rebelled against this fixed notion of patriarchal norms, have instead left a mark so big for themselves that they will be remembered eternally.

Whether it’s Jane Austen, Coco Chanel, Queen Elizabeth I, Frida Kahlo or Margaret Thatcher, the one thing all these powerful women had in common is that they wanted more for themselves. They saw things in an unconventional way and refused to succumb to what society wanted of them. All of them were criticized, insulted and ridiculed, but that never stopped them. They were each, in their own unique way, a force of nature.

Today we see modern examples of great women like Hilary Clinton, Lady Gaga, Angelina Jolie, Oprah Winfrey and Beyoncé, who are successful, inspirational, independent, influential, beautiful and powerful. Because regardless of what century we’re in, and what society shoves down our throats, we are each born with an innate force to do something big with our lives. As children, none of us dreamed about hunting down a husband and catering to his needs as a goal. We dream of becoming doctors, performers, writers, astronauts, and prima ballerinas, until one day we lose our courage or become lazy and settle for the logical and practical route.

The above-mentioned women were crazy enough to believe they could change something in the world, and they did. Of course they wanted love – we all do – but that didn’t stop them from achieving their goals. I am not saying loving a man is wrong or that marriage is bad – on the contrary. I am thrilled for all women who are already happily married for the right reasons, and are dedicated to their families and raising their children the proper way. But, how many married women are miserable and regretting their decision everyday? I believe that it is a basic human need to love and be loved, and eventually procreate – but, it shouldn’t be at the expense of who you are and what you want to be – because at some point, whether you want to or not, you will feel melancholic.

I was supposed to wake up one day after 25 and realize that I was ready to settle down and have kids. Instead, I listened to my inner voice and decided I did in fact want to fall in love, have a loving, supportive partner and a child, after I accomplish certain personal achievements. And I am not planning on settling down or settling for anything in the meantime. The man I will fall in love with will understand my goals and not try to stop them from happening because love isn’t and shouldn’t be selfish. Just as I support my partner, he will support me. He will understand that I exist regardless of him and that I should do something about my existence. Married women should not forget this.

Forget what society taught you. Forget how it should be, what’s right and what’s wrong. Do you really want to go by the book and wake up jaded one day wondering where your dreams ran off? Focus on yourself. Focus on becoming the best version of yourself possible; whether it’s on a personal or professional level, and without you realizing it, the right person for you will fall into your life. Once you’ve covered your essentials, you will know the right qualities to look for in a man. That way, when you choose a partner to spend your life with, it will be for the right reasons. That way, when you do have kids, you will know the right lessons to teach them and how to raise them properly – because you are the best version of yourself.

Instead of using your wit and charm to hunt down a husband, try investing all that planning and effort into making your dream a reality, regardless of where you come from and how much money your family has to support you. Those factors shouldn’t even be obstacles, because most influential women in history came from very humble backgrounds and from towns most people have never heard of. It’s not enough to be a dreamer; you have to be a doer. You have a voice; be brave enough to make it heard no matter how many times life knocks you down.

I am writing this on International Women’s Day to remind all the ladies out there who are feeling jaded, weak, heartbroken or hopeless that at the very core, you are a force of nature that can only be discouraged or stopped by one person: you.

Wake up everyday remembering that you are important. Love yourself. Believe in yourself. You are not the weaker or inferior sex. In fact, you have the beauty, charm and intellect to bring the most powerful man to his knees. Use that to your advantage and pave your own path instead of obediently following in the footsteps of others.

As Marilyn once said, “Well behaved women rarely make history.”

In other words, don’t be a basic bitch.

Happy International Women’s Day! I am proud and privileged to be a woman!

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Marriage: Driving Single Ladies to Madness

bride wars marriage driving single women to madness La Wlooo!!!...Marriage: Driving Single Ladies to Madness

Remaining loyal to tradition (and as per popular demand), it’s that time of the year again when I write up a wedding-bashing ‘La Wlooo’ entry to remind you all of how miserable, bitter, alone and envious I am. Wedding season – as every year – is just around the corner. I’m even more excited this year because I’m a year older and two of my closest friends will be tying the knot in two months. It doesn’t really help that I’m turning 27 in a month and that I have 3 single friends left; it also doesn’t help that I’m Lebanese, living in Lebanon and coming from possibly the most closed-minded, judgmental town in the country, where every girl who is unmarried after 25 (or 22) is deemed infertile, ineligible or a whore. Shame on me; I am 3 years away from 30, and what have I accomplished? Nothing! Who cares about my career or about my goals? I don’t have a ring, a husband or a child.

Pressure.

Inversely, another two of my closest friends just got out of serious relationships. Seeing as to how society (family, friends, acquaintances) is frowning upon their mishaps, they are feeling hopeless, insecure and miserable. What if they never get married? What if they’re the only single girls left on the planet? Frick on a stick, what if their entire universe falls apart, because according to society, they can’t be happy without a husband? Mind you, these two girls have got it all, but that doesn’t matter; they are just a couple of years away from hitting 30 – and we all know what that means . . .

Pressure.

I was even foolish enough to think I had a supportive family that wouldn’t mind if I stayed single forever! “Don’t get married unless you’re 100% madly in love and unless you know he’s the right one. Take your time; no need to rush,” has been replaced with, “if you become too independent, you’ll never want a husband. I want a grandchild before I die. You’re not getting any younger. Stop being so difficult. Grow up!”

Pressure.bride and groom marriage e1337013978915 La Wlooo!!!...Marriage: Driving Single Ladies to Madness

So, I would like to take this opportunity to speak on behalf of all single women (and myself of course) who are perfectly fine with not running a marathon to land a husband, plan a big wedding and pop a kid out before the world ends (a.k.a. hitting 30). I would like to address everyone out there who’s ever asked, “Why aren’t you married yet?” and “Aren’t you planning on getting married?” and “When are you planning on getting married?” Frankly I’ve had enough, and I would like to logically answer these mindboggling, life-altering, “first world problem” questions once and for all so that the Marriage Squad will get me (and the rest of these single ladies) off their marriage-obsessed backs!

First of all, single women do not have the plague or the privilege of owning a crystal ball that predicts when a decent guy with the right qualities and chemistry comes along; and frankly, until then, it wouldn’t be logical to set a date and plan a darn wedding – because only the mentally ill would that. If crystal balls existed and if I could predict the future, I’m sure frogs that turned into princes would exist too – not to mention “happily ever after”, men that chase women all the way to the airport, dying for love (like those two idiots, Romeo and Juliet) and sappy love declarations over the microphone for the whole world to hear.
Not only do the above NOT exist, but if they did, I wouldn’t want any of it. But, since society is ridiculous enough with its demands, requests and insensitive inquisitions, maybe we should all start kissing frogs and drinking poison because our prince didn’t appear out of smoke. Makes sense.

Second of all, if a potential frog-prince did appear, it doesn’t mean he should be “the one” simply because he arrived at the “right time.” There’s no such thing as the “right time” or the “right person” or the” right place.” This type of sh** shouldn’t be planned. Those who plan it as if it were a business merger probably deserve the divorce they’re going to inevitably undergo.
I can’t imagine how boring it must be for those who get married because the other person seems right on paper; a life void of passion and excitement because adults are expected to be “logical” since feelings are just for children.
Why settle for the next guy just because “it’s time”? That sounds so scary; it sounds like something a serial killer would say right before he slices his victim in half. Why create a childish, unrealistic fairytale and then try to find a logical candidate to play the part of “husband”? A woman who is immature enough to do that certainly doesn’t have a clue what marriage is all about – you know, those 50 years that come after the wedding – which is why divorce rates are increasing so rapidly.

Which brings me to my next point . . .

Third of all, did you people forget that the marriage is not about the wedding? That is one day – one overrated day of your existence (or not, if you get remarried). I’m glad my friends who are getting married are smart enough to understand that – but too bad I can’t say the same for so many others who put more effort into planning their wedding than keeping their marriage together.  It spans beyond that happy wedding photo; it’s hard work. I am sorry to disappoint, but I have never had a childhood fantasy about a wedding dress or big fancy marriage ceremony – simply because I do not understand its purpose; toiling away for months just to please hundreds of people who will end up complaining anyway. This does not make me “emotionally immature” as some would claim.
On the other hand, I do look forward to eventually growing old with someone; but still, just the thought of sharing your life with another human – even when you’re both at your worst – is exhausting enough. You will be sharing a bed, a bathroom, a home, offspring, possibly a dog, most likely a joint bank account . . . and I’m expected to  figure all this sh** out and bite the bullet before I form my next wrinkle? I don’t like hearing, “well you should already have this figured out at this age.” Not everyone is programmed the same way, so you can understand my frustration when people pretend to know everything about the universe because they are clinging onto 70-year-old ideologies with dear life.

Fourth of all, and for the real shocker: I don’t really care if I’m not getting married anytime soon! Okay, so there are many girls out there who would give an arm and a leg to find a guy and be married by 2013, but there are others as well who genuinely do-not-care. I’m not saying I want to become a lesbian and join the feminist movement, no, I’m saying that I’m in no rush whatsoever – regardless of my frightfully old, nay, prehistoric age and the increasing scarcity of good men. I don’t give a flying damn if all those “eligible bachelors” end up going for the younger generation of women just because they’re still “young and fresh.” Yes people, I’ve heard that before. I’m guessing they’re referring to their reproductive organs – not to mention that such a “man” is just a couple of years away from hitting a midlife crisis. Why would  anyone want to be with such an immature, ignorant, shallow caveman? Please go marry a fetus by all means!
Moreover, the fact that I’m not desperately trying to find a husband doesn’t mean that I’m doing nothing with my life; it doesn’t mean I’ve succumbed to inaction. I have plans of my own; they may not involve producing an infant or marrying one, but they are still significant plans to me. So I do not appreciate hearing, “what have you done with your life so far?” as if I’ve been locked up in my cabin in the woods for 30 years with my 9 cats and 100 extra kilos of fat. How offensive!

bride nonconventional gown La Wlooo!!!...Marriage: Driving Single Ladies to MadnessFinally, as much as I find extravagant weddings and marriage contracts ridiculous, I still respect these traditions and don’t mock anyone for going through with them. In return, I’d like the Marriage Squad to respect my ideologies and leave me the frick alone. “You are now bound by contract” is the scariest sh** you can tell a person. Talk about adding pressure and high expectations to a union. Well, here’s what I think; I think people are too insecure to trust that the other person won’t leave them if there’s nothing legally binding them to stick around. If a person does end up leaving, its a result of their insecurity and immaturity. Signing a paper won’t change that. Marriage should be a state of mind, not a paper. I’d rather be living with someone who’s faithful to me for 20 years and have his bastard child than be legally bound to a man who cheats on me left and right. Am I not making sense here?

Once again, I’m not against marriage. I’m not going to struggle to get into one or to avoid one. What the heck – if it happens, it happens. It’s a societal norm and tradition that’s been pushed down our throats till we gagged, so I guess most of us are bound to end up there. But until then, I wish to not engage in any further discussions about this subject with anyone. The next time I feel someone is being nosy and pushy with me, I will not hesitate to push them down a flight of stairs. Twice.
Also, to those girls who are so darn obsessed about getting married, please chill the f*** out a little. It’ll happen eventually – maybe next year, maybe in 15 years. And if it doesn’t, so freakin’ what? Enjoy living; there are other things to life.
And as for those who got dumped or are still hanging onto a jerk that treats them badly because they fear they won’t find anyone else, seriously I can’t listen to this crap anymore. Stop sulking over someone who was willing to let you go or someone who treats you badly. You need to be with a person who will know your worth, treat you the way you deserve to be treated and stick around through the rough patches (and vice versa of course) – unless you want to suffer for the rest of your existence just so you can please society. I can’t conform to a sexist society that finds it acceptable for men to marry at 45, while women have an expiry date at 30.

Congratulations and good luck to all of you who are getting married over the next few months. May the gods of fertility, love and matrimony shower you with blessings everyday of your lives together. Every single day. All 18250 of them.
Seriously though, congratulations on finding your special someone.

“Life is what happens to you while youre busy making other plans.” John Lennon

 

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The Daily Rant: Women’s Radio Orgasms

Hello people of planet Lebanon and earth — or the 8 of you who actually noticed I skipped yesterday’s Daily Rant. First, I should provide you with a good excuse as to why I didn’t write up a cluster of swear words with a funny title yesterday, but I’m assuming you don’t care so I won’t bother myself with fabricating an interesting excuse. I was merely exhausted and had a super busy Wednesday.

To make up for it, I’ll probably write up two rants for you today. I’m kidding. Do you really think I’m that bored?

Anyway, here’s something that I’ll never properly understand: Lebanese Radio Ads.

A.K.A. Ear Porn.

Yes. I’m assuming you’ve all watched or at least glimpsed a cheesy, sleazy porn movie once or twice in your life – if you’re going to say “eeewwww” and pretend you haven’t, get the heck off my blog and remove that stick from your ass ASAP.

Back to the subject of porn — so I’m assuming you’ve all heard the silly fake sexual sounds those women make in porn movies . . . and I’m certainly hoping that at least one person out there has realized the similarity between those sounds and Lebanese radio ads featuring Lebanese women.

This is just nasty – really – especially when I’m tired, cranky and stuck in traffic; particularly when I’m listening to a really good song on full blast and suddenly a woman comes on the radio, orgasming about f***ing coffee! Fellow motorists start staring at my car, wondering what the hell’s wrong with me.

There’s nothing wrong with me! There’s something wrong with that woman on the radio who has an orgasm over her neighbor’s coffee. What kind of acting school did she go to? “The Academy of Radio Porn?

So as I was in the middle of my traffic-infested hectic day yesterday, I heard quite an interesting Nissan Micra ad. The scenario is as follows:

One woman buys a new car. She is oblivious to any of its features because she’s a stupid b****, and her smartass neighbor points this out to her by asking her if it has four airbags, a remote control thingy-ma-jiggy and OH MY GOD FOUR AIRBAGS OOOOHHHH AAAAAAHHHHHH *orgasms* like a NISSAN MICRA. What the f***? How stupid could a person be to not know if her car has airbags or not? And how STUPID could another person be to waste a minute of her life salivating over FOUR airbags? Sweet Jesus! The stupid lady then asks how much this marvelous airbag-bearing Micra costs, and the smartass tells her how affordable it is. Idiot #1 then asks for “may w sukkar” (sugar water) because “ashat daghta” (her blood pressure dropped) from all the excitement.

I do NOT want to live in this world anymore.

  1. I believe the smartass neighbor has airbag Tourrette’s – there’s no other explanation. I also think when her husband wants to get her excited, he throws an airbag at her face.
  2. The stupid b**** neighbor is a stupid b****.
  3. I now f***ing HATE Nissan Micra. If I see any woman driving it, I will throw a plastic bottle at her moving airbag machine. Even if you’re my best friend and I see you driving a Nissan Micra, I will punch your face (think of it as an homage to your FOUR AIRBAGS *orgasms again*).

Disgusting.

Anyway, here’s another nasty ad I heard right after Nissan Micra. Since it’s Easter, all housewives are now showing off their cooking skills: who bakes the most b****ing maamoul! So in this ad, one woman asks the other where she bought her delicious, orgasmic maamoul from. In the most high-pitched Lebanese voice ever, the second woman replies, “walaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwww? Ma bta3erfi ta3met temmik?!?!? Haidi ANA 3emleton ma3 zebdet Lurpak!!!” (Translation: oh no you didn’t, b****! Don’t you know the taste of your own mouth? I made these myself . . . and I used Lurpak!!)
They both proceed by having repetitive out-of-context orgasms over f***ing butter!

SERIOUSLY PEOPLE . . . IT’S BUTTER!

  1. Lurpak lady needs to chill the f*** out. It’s no big deal if her friend doesn’t realize that these maamouls were home-baked by a neurotic b**** and contained f***ing Lurpak butter! Not even the most refined palate would recognize the taste of LURPAK butter in maamoul! THIS IS PLAIN STUPID!
  2. I HATE this stupid advertisement, I hate it!
  3. I don’t ever want to eat Lurpak again! EVER!
  4. Yes I am aware of how childish my reaction is, but I seriously have the urge to weep every time I remember it! It’s post-traumatic stress!

Why are Lebanese women being stereotyped as brainless b****es who orgasm on coffee, airbags, f***ing detergent and kitchen utensils? This is not cool! When ads like this are actually appealing to a huge market segment in Lebanon – people – we have a huge f***ing problem, and it spans way beyond what stupid butter you’re using! Damn it!

Have a very sexual and orgasmic day!
R

PS. Subscribe to my blog. You’ll have countless orgasms while reading my rants.

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Lebanon: Racism at its Finest

prejudice racism bias e1318240227708 La Wlooo!!!....Lebanon: Racism at its Finest

 

For the first decade and a half of my life, I grew up among different cultures and religions. Being exposed to people from of all colors, backgrounds, beliefs and nationalities came as something normal to me. I was not prejudiced; I made no stereotypes, no judgments and had no preferences. I then moved to Lebanon where I lived, studied and worked for the second decade of my life. This is where I slowly and unconsciously started becoming biased and narrow-minded like the majority of the peasants around me who segmented people not only according to their religion, but also according to their nationality, color, financial status, and dress code.

If I am not mistaken, I heard a very appalling story about the Indian ambassador’s wife being snubbed off by an arrogant saleswoman in one of Lebanon’s ‘renowned’ clothing outlets. There was also this other story about a dark-skinned ambassador’s wife who was asked to get out of the swimming pool because she was thought to be a maid.

A couple of Lebanese commercials shocked me as well. One featured a Srilankan ‘maid’ endorsing a call center (or something of the sort) as she spoke in her Arab-lankan accent since it’s so typical to find “the help” lined up at call centers to call their families back home. It was shamelessly broadcasted on practically every radio station. It took me a while to absorb the claptrap I was listening to.
One more commercial was about yet another Srilankan ‘maid’ giving her testimonial about a certain washing detergent (manufactured by a – startlingly – renowned company). This was aired on almost all local TV channels. Racism much?

I wasn’t sure if the creative directors behind these two commercials were trying to be funny or are just downrightly narrow-minded. They were both an epic fail, just like “Rass el Aabed” whose name had to be changed to “Tarboush” because the manufacturers finally learned what racism means after decades of being offensive. It’s never too late . . . one day we may even stop calling metal sponges “seef el aabed”.

I only notice how silly I’ve become when I leave Lebanon for a few days of vacation – something that I must do every few months to sustain my good sense. I arrived to Dubai a few days ago, and being amidst a hundred different nationalities, I found myself stereotyping each and everyone as I made childish jokes about them. Two days into this, I was sickened by myself. I realized I was never like this till I moved to Lebanon and started listening to people’s opinions on communities from different backgrounds.

Disclaimer: the following material is highly offensive and based only on stereotypes made by uneducated people. It does not represent the truth or my views. It represents the distorted ‘truth’. If you still wish to rain on me with insults, please refer to the comment box below. Thank you.  

Indians: Apart from being good at head-bobbing, they are either housemaids or taxi drivers. They eat curry all day and dance all night (while bobbing their heads of course). People find it amusing and cool to impersonate them. They have sex as much as they eat curry.
They are often mistaken for the one nationality that they dislike: Pakistanis.

Pakistanis: (See: Indians, except for the sex part) – they are also often mistaken for the one nationality that they dislike: Indians.

Filipinos: People also love impersonating them: “wegetabless”, “peepty pipe dalaz”, and many more while stretching their eyes to create an Asian look. They are perceived as the best choice for housekeepers as well since they are very clean, maternal and not black.

Russians: All females are mail order brides, strippers or prostitutes. They are frowned upon by Lebanese women and viewed as the “competition”. They are the home wreckers of our society and are all after one thing: money. All males are either drug dealers, members of the mafia or useless, jobless wife beaters.

Saudis: The men are all perverted, rich, horny (possibly bisexual, possibly pedophile) and all after one thing: sex. The women: no comment (I don’t want to be put in jail), but if you have a notion of what I meant to write here, consider yourself biased.

Ethiopians: Women are either maids or prostitutes carrying HIV. They clean houses by day and seduce taxi and moped drivers by night.

Americans: Perceived as overweight, wealthy, stupid, privileged and blond*. Let’s not forget cheap and stingy. They will one day take over the world if the Chinese don’t beat them at it.

Europeans: Perceived as sexy (because of their accents), blond*, white, borderline albino and let’s not forget cheap and stingy (contrary to the ‘oh so generous’ Lebanese man). Let’s not forget that they are thought to have poor hygiene.

English: Blond*, cold, unemotional beer drinkers. They are perceived to be the best at doing business.

*Please note that people from the west are stereotyped as blond. If you’re blond, you will be asked (in a terrible Arab-English accent) if you’re American, European or English.

South Americans: Men are drug lords. Women are Victoria’s Secret models.

Japanese: They are everywhere. They are the “classe” Asians. Their cameras and phones are always nicer than yours so it’s safe to ask them to take a picture of you in front of the fountain – they won’t run away with your camera (believe it or not, this advice was given to me by several travel agents and tour guides).

Australians: since conversing with them is difficult enough, people tend to ask them if they’re ever seen or played with a kangaroo. Whether the answer is ‘yes’ or ‘no’, the conversation ends then because they have the worst English accent in the world (even worse than the Lebanese “za zebra went to za zoo” English).

Moroccans: their women are beautiful nymphomaniacs and/or whores. Their men are dangerous (not sure as to why).

Algerians: They are all crooks.

Africans: they are ‘all black’; hence they are all rapists, crooks, kidnappers, killers, thieves and everything bad and dangerous in the world. Avoid eye contact.

Jews: Best business minds and money makers, all are rich, all are stingy, all are selfish and all are backstabbers.

Armenians: All live and/or work in Burj Hammoud. All eat bastirma. They help each other and each other only. All are stingy. They are compared to Jews (please don’t ask me why).

These are only a few of the stereotypes made by Lebanese people, but what we forget is how we are stereotyped:

Lebanese: Worst people to do business with, loud, obnoxious, nouveau riche, war mongers, alcoholics, party animals, gossipers, trouble makers, pretentious, materialistic and fake. Let’s not forget Lebanese girls that are stereotyped as fake inside and out – plastic – and perceived as whores in the Arab world (thank you Haifa).

Of course none of the above stereotypes are fair or accurate, but it is so easy to put people in the same basket instead of focusing on their unique qualities. It is easy to wonder why a Pakistani person is a CEO of a multinational company or why a Russian woman is good housewife, mother and career woman. What’s not so easy is bursting out of our little bubble and embracing the world around us for what it is, not for how we see it. I am including myself here because I am disappointed at how I would allow myself to get carried away with the incompetent many instead of learning from the competent few. For the 564th time I say, “never again”.

Racism is man’s gravest threat to man – the maximum of hatred for a minimum of reason.” Abraham J. Heschel

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It’s the End of the World . . . NOT!

end of world 2012 e1317064731761 La Wlooo!!!...Its the End of the World....NOT!

Dear Citizens of the world,

If you are reading this now, it can only mean that the following holds true:
1) The world did not come to an end because of a dwarf star, planet, asteroid or comet colliding into our planet.
2) There are way too many idiots on this planet who will collide into each other and make babies who will also be idiots when they grow up.  

Seriously people, I’d like to thank those of you who are less competent than a blowfish for putting the rest of us under so much stress because of your “end of the world” rumors. I understand that “ignorance is bliss”, but in this case it has made those of us who are informed, very very agitated. How difficult is it to refer to nasa.gov for some actual facts about the world not ending before you start updating your Facebook statuses with “If the world ends, I love you all . . . “ and stocking your pantry with beans and rice?
What these people haven’t realized yet is that their brain died long before they ever will . . . and their very existence among is a medical wonder.
A message to the ignorant: An asteroid may kill you, but reading won’t! Educating yourself about what’s happening to your planet requires less time and effort than gossiping and panicking about it.

Since we are now living in the age of information (thanks to the World Wide Web), most people don’t have an excuse for being stupid anymore. I took the liberty of doing my own research about the “world’s end” and here’s one of the posts I came across:  

 “Have you guys heard of comet elenin that’s coming straight toward earth by september 26th? well, according to internet people; comet elenin is actually a dwarf star or planet x or planet nibiru or whatever the f*** it is.

nasa have been keeping it’s eyes on this comet since 2010 when it was first discover. two months ago, nasa sent emails to every nasa employee to prepare for any sort of “outside threat”. then two weeks after that, chief of nasa posted a video on nasa official site informing people to always be prepare for anything.”

Bear in mind, people, that as believable as the above may sound to the untrained mind of an idiot, it was in fact written by what looks like an asexual prepubescent Asian child who cannot spell, punctuate or use proper grammar if the world’s existence depended on it. His (or her) photo is located right next to the post itself – so how people actually believe this crap is beyond me!

Message from me to the Asian baby: The world did not end, so go back to school and learn how to spell. Oh – and where are your parents?

People who post conspiracy theories like this on the internet are usually very bored because they haven’t seen the sunlight or another human form in months. Their inspiration roots from their brains, which are fried because of the endless hours they spend in front of their computer screens. The Asian baby above isn’t the only person writing about this ridiculously false phenomenon; there are websites like theendingworld.com that have made this subject their only reason to wake up in the morning. Another website, http://www.endoftheworld2012.net/, has made quite an escapade of its page to exude the feeling of danger (including a very reliable photo from the movie “2012″). It also ends its long informative page with the following statement:

 

Finally, we believe that there is something
more fearful than any
December 21 2012 Doomsday prediction

 

CLICK HERE

 

To find out more

 

How morbid and childish. It’s quite ironic how these people are living just to write about death every day.

And what does NASA have to say about these melodramatic doomsday websites? “However, many of the disaster websites pull a bait-and-shift to fool people.”

To further demonstrate how ridiculous the above drivel is, why don’t we read NASA’s statement on the matter:

Q: Is there a planet or brown dwarf called Nibiru or Planet X or Eris that is approaching the Earth and threatening our planet with widespread destruction?
A: Nibiru and other stories about wayward planets are an Internet hoax. There is no factual basis for these claims. If Nibiru or Planet X were real and headed for an encounter with the Earth in 2012, astronomers would have been tracking it for at least the past decade, and it would be visible by now to the naked eye. Obviously, it does not exist. Eris is real, but it is a dwarf planet similar to Pluto that will remain in the outer solar system; the closest it can come to Earth is about 4 billion miles.

http://www.nasa.gov/topics/earth/features/2012.html

As you see, the prepubescent Asian “thing” quoted NASA on false pretences; so instead of searching for factual evidence regarding this matter, it’s only natural that the lazy dim-witted people out there all gasped for air and fainted simultaneously two minutes before they started spreading rumors to other thick-headed people they know.

Once again, what does NASA have say to say about such ignorant people?

Q: How do NASA scientists feel about claims of pending doomsday?
A: For any claims of disaster or dramatic changes in 2012, where is the science? Where is the evidence? There is none, and for all the fictional assertions, whether they are made in books, movies, documentaries or over the Internet, we cannot change that simple fact. There is no credible evidence for any of the assertions made in support of unusual events taking place in December 2012.

http://www.nasa.gov/topics/earth/features/2012.html

end of the world fanatics 300x186 La Wlooo!!!...Its the End of the World....NOT!What’s worse than doomsday websites and rumor-spreading imbeciles is those fanatics (if ya know what I mean) that stand by the side of the road holding up posters that say “THE END OF THE WORLD IS NEAR. REDEEM YOURSELF.” They are bizarrely very happy because they cannot wait to meet their creator.

Message from me to the fanatics: Why don’t you jump off a cliff . . . please?

 I wish certain people stopped pretending to be smart. It doesn’t work – especially when they say things like, “It’s the end of the world . . . AS WE KNOW IT.” Or when they start analyzing Japan’s earthquakes and the USA’s tsunamis – umm hello! These natural disasters have been happening for thousands of years. WE-ARE-STILL-HERE.

 Who of you remembers the Y2K scare? How many of you hid underground or bid farewell to those you love because you thought the world is coming to an end? Did it end? Take a minute to think about it before you answer.  
Now, who of you remembers that it was the predictions of the Mayan calendar that originated this “End of the world” bullsh**? Did any of you know that this 2012 deadline was originally 2003? When the world didn’t end in 2003, a bunch of idiots must have decided, “Hey! Let’s move it another decade so we don’t run out of useless ways to waste our time.” Need I say that the Mayans did not base this “theory” on facts? I know this because I have common sense . . . and because they still lived like savages and had no access to the proper technology or information needed to make this speculation. Common sense people! We’re still here and have proven once again that apes are smarter than we are because I’m sure they would have already learned not to make the same mistake twice.
Please, I’m not even asking you to do the impossible (which is to stop gossiping), all I’m saying is it wouldn’t hurt you to take half an hour a day off your Facebook time to educate yourselves . . . at least then when you gossip, you’ll be doing it productively (whatever that means).

 I urge, nay beg you to start by reading the following link that I have repeatedly posted above. It is a link to a NASA page that should answer any of your questions regarding the world’s end so that you won’t have another stroke the next time you watch another doomsday movie or hear rumors of an incoming monster planet, earthquake, tidal wave or the Easter bunny.

 http://www.nasa.gov/topics/earth/features/2012.html

“Truth is by nature self-evident. As soon as you remove the cobwebs of ignorance that surround it, it shines clear.” Mohandas Gandhi

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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.)
Me: TELL-THEM-PLEASE.
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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Zouzou, Abul Zouz & Abul Ghadab!

zouzou ebba La Wlooo!!!...Zouzou, Abul Zouz & Abul Ghadab!

I really wanted to write about Lebanese gentlemen this week, but since my writing is inspired from what I see around me, and since Lebanese gentlemen have become quite the endangered species, I decided to write about the notorious Lebanese Wazwaz instead.

Whether you have lived in Lebanon all your life or you are a tourist visiting for a week, you must surely be familiar with the term Wazwaz and what/who/how the Wazwaz is.

The Wazwaz always has spicy nicknames. Why? Because a normal name doesn’t do justice to such a powerful, dangerous zouzou antar1 La Wlooo!!!...Zouzou, Abul Zouz & Abul Ghadab!beast. Abul Zouz, Zouzou (Ebba), Abul Ghadab, Abul Leil, Abu Rabba, Jix, Aantar, Abu Ali – sorry I’ll have to stop at that; I’m embarrassed enough to know this number of names. My favorite nickname is Zouzou, so I will use it in reference to the Wazwaz club members throughout this entry.

Zouzou’s favorite accessory is his moped. Regardless of traffic or people or cars on the street, he will always ride it on one wheel; hence, “Ebba ya Zouzou ebba!” Eww. Yesterday as I was driving over to my friend’s place, Zouzou was showing off his moped “ebba” skills and holding up traffic. He was right in front of me . . . for ten minutes until my anger got the best of me, at which point I drove up to him, honked like a Zouzou myself, and yelled at him, “FHEMNA! CAN YOU MOVE NOW?” Zouzou was surprisingly . . . surprised! Did he think he was impressing us?

Zouzou knows his toys. A moped is one of them, a compact 1970’s Volkswagen, Renault, or BMW will make him king of his alley. The “Pimp My Ride” Zouzou edition involves decorating the car with stickers, “If you want to die, follow me . . .” wazwaz car 300x300 La Wlooo!!!...Zouzou, Abul Zouz & Abul Ghadab!Those cars always have an extremely noisy exhaust and an obnoxiously loud sound system that plays “tish-tik-tah-tah” music – Haifa Wehbe is a favorite. Their English music selection usually includes Yves Larock’s “Rise Up” and 666’s “Alarma”. Yes, so dangerous. Zouzou’s car will always beat any Ferrari, Porsche, or Lamborghini he comes across on the highway. It doesn’t matter if Zouzou’s car bursts into flames because its engine exploded . . . he’ll always find a convincing reason as to why the Ferrari won. Hence, the “Abu Rabba” nickname.

Zouzou’s favorite line is “Shuuuuu??” pronounced as “Shaaaaaaaaa?”
He sees his friend: “Shaaaaaaaaa?”
He sees his father: “Shaaaaaaaaa?”
He sees his neighbor: “Shaaaaaaaaa?”
He sees the garbage man: “Shaaaaaaaaa?”
He sees a female: “Shaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?”

Speaking of which, Zouzou has no control of his “zizi” or of his speech, behavior, and thoughts when he sees a female – angry man La Wlooo!!!...Zouzou, Abul Zouz & Abul Ghadab!especially if she’s walking down the street.
“Shaaaaa ya ashta?!”
Of course Zouzou expects her to be charmed and jump on that moped with him as he rides her into the sunset.
God forbid she’s licking a Popsicle: “Wlek ya raytne el bouza!!”
No, this is not harassment at all! It’s not weird at all for a strange man to shout out to a woman that he’d like it if she “licks him like a Popsicle”. Eukh!
This happened to me once. I was so offended I simply had to throw my Popsicle at him and run off. Once again Zouzou was surprisingly surprised. I still think of what reaction he may have been anticipating (moped . . . sunset . . . baby Zouzous).

Zouzou almost always looks like
a) a gangster
b) a homeless street boy
c) a rapist
d) all of the above

tige tattoo 225x300 La Wlooo!!!...Zouzou, Abul Zouz & Abul Ghadab!He almost always has a tattoo . . . or five. It’s either a cross, a dagger, a tiger, a skull, or maybe all combined into one big mess of a black ink catastrophe. Him and his posse probably all went together to “Abul Ghadab Tattoo Parlor” to get tats done together; the stamp for the “Zouzou Brotherhood”. In the absence of a tattoo, Zouzou definitely has burn scar tissue in the form of a cross on his arm, shoulder, or back. This is back from the high school days (if he got that far) where his Aantar-ness and beastly manliness were tested. No it’s not disgusting; it’s COOL!

Zouzou’s clothing style and trends are to be envied. His faded ripped jeans, wife-beater (sleeveless shirt), thick black belt with a Wazwaz buckle the size of Texas, Pointy shoes or cowboy boots (or as Zouzou says, “Coyboy”) and enough gel in his head to hold together the tower of Pisa. Some have the army haircut; the “tanjara”. It’s quite a favorite among the Zouzous.

When a Zouzou looks at you, you know he’s thinking of one of two things:
1) The quickest way to steal your money
2) The quickest way to grab your ass
In any case, this is bad news. The best thing you can do in such circumstances is ignore the Zouzou.
If you are a woman, you certainly don’t want to engage in a stare down with Zouzou. He will interpret it as one of two things:

a)      “Bayye a2wa men bayyak” – could you possibly think for a minute that you are more worthy than Zouzou? *Gasp* In this case he’ll get very defensive and aggressive. He’ll forget about raping you and will want to beat you . . . after he floods you with every possible below the belt insult. These insults usually involve your mother, father, great grandmother, dancing on your grave, a donkey’s penis, and things like that all coming together to form one glorious insult.

b)      “Enta ktir wahesh” – yes, Zouzou already knows he’s a lover hotter than lava. Now he knows that you know. Whether you know it or not is irrelevant. Whether you’re looking at him in the most disgusted way is irrelevant. Whether you’re holding back vomit is irrelevant. Next thing you know he’ll be telling you, “Shu hal jassad ya assad,” or “Habbaytik wein baytik,” as he gives you his sexy signature stares. At this point, even if you scream in his face . . . it’s irrelevant.

If you are a man, regardless of what you say to him or how you look at him, it’s over. He’ll unleash the “Tatari” beast within upon you.

What is the best way to insult Zouzou? Just say “Immak” (Yo Mama!) – You are guaranteed to have a “mashkal”, Zouzou style! Regardless of what you’re trying to say about Zouzou’s mom, he will interpret it as an insult if he hears the word “Immak”.
Zouzou’s Friend: “Kifa Immak? Sarit Sehta Ahsan?”
Zouzou: “Shu assdak wleh?! Immak enta el sh*******!”

With one phone call, Zouzou has already rounded up an army of Zouzous on mopeds ready to fight with their fists and baseball bats (ironically enough, none of them play baseball).
Rule number 1: take your shirts off.
Rule number 2: don’t stop till the “darak” arrive.
Bear in mind that Zouzou probably insults and/or beats his mother every day, but no one else has the right to say her name – regardless of the context.

I truly love Zouzous. They crack me up. Lebanon would be a lot duller if we didn’t have these annoying guys verbally harassing us every day. A walk to the supermarket would become uneventful. Eating ice cream would become . . . just eating ice cream. Wearing a skirt would become bland. Moped salesmen wouldn’t be able to put bread on the table anymore (same goes for hair gel distributers). Last week I thought flies were useless until one of my readers informed me that birds (or frogs or something) enjoy eating them. The same logic applies for Zouzou – as annoying as he is, who could imagine a Lebanon without him?

“You wanna f*** with me? Okay. You wanna play rough? Okay. Say hello to my little friend!” Tony Montana

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