Tag Archives: Women

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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28 Years, 28 Lessons

young-couple-holding-hands

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a very vocal girl. I’ve given eccentric opinions and made unwelcomed statements even where they weren’t requested. This has led many other girls to believe that I hold infinite wisdom – which I do ;-D – and ask me for endless advice on countless topics, even when I don’t have a clue on what to answer. A friend of mine once asked me whether she should divorce her husband. Well, since I had never been married – like ever – I remember chewing on my food for what felt like a century, then told her, “Life’s too short. Do what makes you happy.” I was surprised at my response since I always thought I was anti-divorce and pro- “deal with your shit,” but I realized how much time had changed my perspective on many things. So, for any of you who think me to be the Buddha of “white girl problems,” I haven’t quite figured out how to stop body hair from growing, but here are 28 simple things I’ve learned in 28 complicated years:

  1. The only thing that should remain constant in your life is your happiness. If that means letting go of friends, relationships, jobs or even family ties, do it without warning. As I said above, life is too short for you to be unhappy.
  2. If you can love someone once, you will be able to love someone else again. Inversely, if someone loves you once, another person will love you too – and many more will as well. Don’t dwell on a lost love – that’s too much wasted energy. You will have many great loves in your lifetime. None of them will be the same, but one of them will stick.
  3. There’s no such thing as a lifetime friend. At each stage in your life, you will have a new best friend, someone who fits into whatever stage you’re at. You will have many friends and lose most of them. That’s normal. It’s called growing up.
  4. If you wake up miserable at 30 because you chose the wrong career, it’s fine. Go back to school and pursue what you love immediately. You are not the same person now that you were at 16 – and what does a 16-year-old know about making a lifelong decision anyway? It’s better to change your life at 30 and live the next half of it happily, than wake up at 60 filled with a lifetime of regrets.
  5. Tattoos come in odd numbers. If you have one tattoo, you’ll probably only have that one for the rest of your life. If you have two, you will most definitely get a third.
  6. Always let a boy kiss you first. Let him be the one pursuing you – always. That way, when you have him all to yourself, you will trust and know that he got there willingly. That way, he will appreciate what he finally got and treat you well accordingly. And remind yourself everyday to keep trusting him and his intentions. Insecurity is the reason for most failed relationships.
  7. Be with a guy that makes you laugh and you’ll never get bored of him. Everything else will fall into place. I had many more criteria when I was younger, but a good sense of humor is gold. At the end of the day, it’s what keeps the relationship alive.
  8. Travel a lot. Whether you believe you need to or not, travel. It will open your mind to new ideas and perspectives. It will change you; grow you.
  9. Invest in sunscreen, not in makeup and Botox. Younger girls these days think that looking like a proboscis monkey is sexy. It’s not – and neither are crow’s feet and wrinkles. I am 28 and I look younger than the 18-year-old madams sprouting up everywhere.
  10. There is no golden rule to relationships. Find the rhythm that suits you best instead of trying to force the norms of others into your lifestyle. No, you do not have to be married by a certain age. In fact, you do not have to be married at all. Point. If simply living with your partner and child makes you happy, do it. And if you do marry, never marry for love; and never marry for money. Marry when both elements are present, because one without the other is doomed to fail.
  11. There’s no such thing as platonic friendship between men and women, unless one of the two finds the other completely and irreversibly unattractive. If your friend likes you, chances are they probably won’t ever tell you how they feel – but they will show you.
  12. There are three traits that are absolutely unacceptable in both sexes: stinginess, bad hygiene and dishonesty. Everything else that’s horrible sprouts from those three evils, so stay away from people with any of those qualities.
  13. Always: wear matching underwear and shave your legs – not because you’re up all night to get lucky, but because it makes you feel sexy on a personal level, giving you that extra boost of confidence – just like wearing high heels.
  14. Never underestimate the power of a confident woman. There is nothing she can’t do. She doesn’t have to be the prettiest, smartest or the richest girl, but if she has confidence, she is captivating. But, do mind the thin line between confidence and arrogance. There is nothing more unsexy than arrogance; stay modest.
  15. At all times, be in control of two things: your happiness and your anger. If someone is responsible for your happiness, you will be too dependent on him or her because they take can that away from you at any time. If someone can make you angry, they are in control of your emotions. No one deserves to have that much power over you psychologically or mentally.
  16. I for one have learned that there are four people who will love me more than they love themselves: my father, mother, sister and brother. These are the only people I will ever owe my loyalty or organs to. Always remember that an unconditional love like that can’t be found any place else, until you have a child of your own.
  17. At every stage in your life, filter your friends until you have one small clique that is your type of crazy. You must be able to do and say anything in front of them without feeling ashamed about it later on. These are the only people you will ever willingly see, help or make an effort for. These are the only friends you will ever want or need to be around.
  18. There is no absolute truth or reality. There is, however, your perception. In any situation, at any given point, change your perspective and you will change your life. For example, you may perceive your country of origin as a barrier for you to work in the USA, or you could look at is as an added advantage. You could be posing naked and look more pure than a fully dressed girl in a white gown with her cleavage hanging out.
  19. Don’t let anyone tell you who you are or what you can or cannot do, not even your own parents or spouse. When someone is that determined to prove you wrong, it’s because they are fighting an internal conflict that has very little to do with your capabilities and very much to do with theirs.
  20. Never envy anyone. Jealousy is for the insecure. Instead of focusing on other people’s progress, focus on yours. High school girls compete with each other. Real women support each other.
  21. Take care of two things: your hair and your teeth. Nothing is sexier than a girl with full, healthy, shiny hair and a gorgeous bright smile.
  22. Not all big noses are ugly. In fact, they are sexy. If you have a big nose, embrace it. I’ve met many confident women with big noses and I must say, they were powerful and sometimes intimidating.
  23. If you like a masculine perfume, wear it. If you like your brother’s jeans, wear them. If you like your boyfriend’s shirt, wear it. There are no rules to these things, only uptight societies.
  24. Whether it’s in your career, attire or relationships – get inspired from people. Read about them, their lives and their achievements, but never copy them. Give yourself a chance to release your own creative force. Don’t tiptoe in someone else’s luster because you’re scared of trying something different.
  25. I read this yesterday, “If you’re the smartest person in a room, you are in the wrong room.” Always be around people you can learn from. They should be more accomplished, smarter or better than you at least one thing so that you can learn from them. Be around winners who motivate you to be at the top of your game. Most people you meet will change your life, whether it’s for the better or for the worse, so choose them wisely.
  26. Drink a lot of water, even if you need to force it down your throat. Keep little bottles with you everywhere. At the very core, water’s responsible for good skin, hair, health and all that jazz. Drinking it is the easiest, lamest thing you can do to stay healthy.
  27. Read as often as you can. It’s exercise for your brain. Work out as often as you can. It’s exercise for your body and soul. You may not understand the importance of these two for your well being, but in another two or three decades, you will be thankful.
  28. The best thing I’ve ever been called is “brave.” It’s the sexiest, most intriguing quality a person can possess. Whenever you face a new challenge, be brave. There will always be others who are more educated, wealthy or good looking than you, but the one who’s the bravest is always the last man standing. Anyone who’s ever made a difference in history has been brave.

Since I’m evidently not Buddha, and not here to cure world hunger, instead of writing about deep, life altering issues, I decided to write about basic little things that we could all apply in our everyday lives – little things that could create a ripple effect of big changes. Many may not agree with my unconventional thoughts, but that’s why they’re called opinions. All I know is, there is a majority of desensitized people out there just waiting to be inspired by someone. If you have the chance to inspire someone, do it. They will never forget you or how you made them feel.

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Dear Sl*ts of Lebanon…

Cheating-Guy-Woman-relationship-homewrecker

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Trend Alert: Transvestites of Lebanon

maya-diab-horrible

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, that’s Maya in a nutshell.

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

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

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

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

Oh sweet Lord...

Oh sweet Lord…

*silence*

Sorry to burst your bubble, Maya, but…

..You will never be Rihanna...

..You will never be Rihanna…

..Or Angelina...

..Or Angelina…

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

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

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

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

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

Carrot Orange is the new black

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

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

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

    Hello, Bigfoot...

    Hello, Bigfoot…

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

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

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

Scary stuff…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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In the Land of Lesbianon!

single-ladies-lesbianon

As we grow older, and as more of our friends get married, we naturally become more aware of how “alone” and “single” we are, and tend to settle for the next best thing just so we don’t get left behind. I for one am content with being single, so long as I’m not stuck in a half-ass relationship with a slob who thinks that wiping urine off his toilet seat is “effort.” On the other hand, several of my single lady friends (and acquaintances) cannot seem to stop complaining about men (or lack thereof) – and this entails the following deep and philosophical questions:

1.       Why do I always fall for assholes?

Because you’re an asshole – to yourself. When you genuinely love someone, you can’t allow yourself to hurt or mistreat them. Now apply that to yourself. If you genuinely love yourself, you can’t allow anyone to hurt you or mistreat you; in order for them to do that, they need your permission. By letting a jerk hold your beautiful heart with his dirty hands, you’re asking for it, sister!

Here’s a scenario for you: A jerk-off tells you that he doesn’t want a relationship, calls you at 2 AM after a night out, asks you to come over because he misses you; you go to his place, expecting a deep, long discussion — what on earth are you thinking? First of all, why pick up in the first place? Let him go booty call his mother. Second of all, the only deep, long thing you’ll be getting is his sausage. Yes, you’re the asshole, not him.

2.       What has happened to men these days?

What has happened to women these days? Where are the women that know what they want, have self-respect, and don’t settle for less than what they deserve? If you want a gentleman with old school manners, be a lady – you’ll definitely stand out in this new generation of vulgar skanks. I’m tired of women who go after men that are in relationships, or women that are so easy – thanks to you bitches, men now think they can have it all without having to make the slightest effort. Since boys will be boys, they think “Why settle for one baby mama when I got all dem hoes on my peen like glue?” (For the record, I don’t know any normal guy that talks like that, but if I ever meet one, I will punch him in the stomach.) Nevertheless, the message is still the same.

3.       Where are the men these days?

They’re everywhere – depending on what you’re looking for. If on the other hand you mean, where’s the generous billionaire who will love and honor me above anyone and anything, you simply must reset your priorities. Start by reading a book or something, because you’re clearly quite ignorant and haven’t a clue on what life is about outside your pretty little head.

And by the way…

This PSA is to all you women who call themselves “gangsta” and “heartbreaker” and talk like a female version of Snoop Dogg (or Lion or whatever his current name is): if ladies become extinct in 50 years, it’s because of white trash like you. You may not be a ho, but you most certainly look and act like one – and you know what they say, “if it talks like a duck and walks like a duck…,” well, you get the point. Stop complaining about “men these days” – you lost your right to be selective the day you started bragging about how “badass” you are. Go grow yourself a penis.

4.       Are all the good men taken or gay?

Obviously, married men are always more appealing than single ones. Why? Because 1) that guy is perceived as someone with enough good qualities to get the girl (face it boys, this is the sad reality); and 2) we all want what we can’t have (rephrased: no one wants what everyone else can get). This in no way encourages you to be a home wrecking ho. There are many great guys left; gay and straight – enough for both the queens and princesses – but obsessively trying to find the last of the good ones by “doing/saying all the right things” won’t get you anywhere. It will just make you more hopeless and desperate. Instead, try searching for yourself. When you find the real “you,” maybe he will too (since he’s probably wondering where all the good women are as well).

5.        “WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?!”

Why? Because you’re single? Maybe you should start by asking yourself why that’s such a bad thing, then help yourself to a serving of GET OVER IT!

Almost two months ago, I was depressed about celebrating my 28th birthday, simply because it meant turning a year older – nothing more, nothing less. A “bright” girl I know gave me a pat on the shoulder then said, “Don’t worry – my sister got married at 29, after we had all lost hope. You still have a chance.”

BOOM!

My jaw dropped all the way down to her IQ level. I simply blinked at her in complete disbelief and focused on the unbearable humidity, in an eager attempt to distract myself with the one thing more offensive that the words she was uttering.

6.       Who am I going to marry? Will I ever get married?

Well, last time I checked my crystal ball, it said something about you marrying … no, being a moron.

This has to be my least favorite question of the bunch. I guess the fact that I tend to talk and philosophize a lot makes it seem that I hold the answers to the universe. Make no mistake, I am indeed a genius – but if I possessed psychic powers, I’d focus my energy on finding the next Google or Apple or Oprah to invest in – maybe a Gooprah: the answer to all women’s relationship problems.

7.       Why are there so many hoes?

Although I tend to use the word “ho” a lot, I don’t like it much; but it’s a briefer, more convenient way of saying: stupid, insecure, self-hating, fugly bitch that should be kicked in the face for being such a pain to exist with on the same planet. Anyway, cheap guys go for cheap girls – so let’s thank these hoes for existing – they act as a filter for other women by indentifying garbage and helping us avoid dirtying our hands with it.

Sorry boys, the “car fax” doesn’t just work on girls. You’re going to be judged by the girls you’ve loved, fucked and fondled for years to come … and no, being a “pimp” and a “man-whore” is not sexy anymore. That’s so 2001.Get with the times!

8.       Why do men love bitches?

Men love a smart woman who loves herself enough not to take shit from anyone. At the same time, she is honest, respectful and loving – to herself and others. This bitch is a lady – the hoes mentioned above are another genre of last year’s horse manure, who have given up on love, life and themselves. Please do not mistake the two.

At the end of the day, men are looking for the same thing as women — we’re all looking for that spark, and whoever denies it is a child. We all want a good challenge and an equally fulfilling trophy at the end. That is what the “game” is about (this is directed at you fools who pollute my ears with “I’m a hustler; a player; a gangsta.” STFU, please. I no longer have the patience for this at my age.

9.       Should I become a lesbian?

If you feel like it, sure. With the 7 to 1 female to male ratio in Lebanon, you have much higher chances of meeting someone. Just stop reminding me about how you’d be much happier and better off being a “lesbo” unless you want me to shove your face in the next woman’s coochie. In dire need of better conversations here, please – NEXT!

10.   Should I date that loser that was stalking me last year? Maybe he’s a nice guy…

Once again, if you think being single is that much of a punishment that you have to date an annoying worm that is mildly less annoying than a monkey with fleas, then maybe you shouldn’t be in a relationship – ever! Because of desperation, I have lost countless girlfriends to men who they’d previously referred to as, “If he were the last man on earth, and the last sheep died, I’d make love to a tree.” Of course, being the way I am, I never ceased to remind them of how horrible their future husband is; thus being exiled from their lives because I’m “unsupportive.”  I’d like to take this opportunity to wish a couple of girls (you know who you are) the following: I hope you make it to your two-year anniversary. If you don’t, you can go fuck a log or a branch or something because I’m all out of I told you so.

In a nutshell, the cure to the chronic disease known as “Singlitis” is the following:

Be a ho. Catch a playa!

Yes, as if.

PS. I will resort to physical violence and (I repeat) punch the next person who talks like that in front of me. I support good diction – and no, that doesn’t mean “dick friction” as so crudely entered in UrbanDictionary.com by this new generation of morons!

Horrible…

Seriously though, it all comes down to this:

If you want a man to respect you, respect yourself first. If you want a man to love you, love yourself first. If you want something, be clear about it and act clearly upon that. If you want a gentleman, be a LADY first!

Or, become a lesbian.

So, since I’m such a wise preacher, why am I single? Because I’m a pedophile that likes molesting little boys.

No.

Let’s just say my last boyfriend raised the bar for everyone else out there. He was a reminder that Prince Charming does exist; that perfect man that each of us is looking for, he really is out there. But in order to be able to give and receive so much happiness without letting it scare you half to death, you have to be ready for it. I was able to find that, but I wasn’t ready and neither was he. This is why I am currently focused on improving myself; because to get the best I can get, I need to be the best I can be first. Next time around, I will be ready; but in the meantime, I won’t be wasting my time complaining, feeling sorry for myself or settling for Mr. Mediocre. As Carrie Bradshaw (SJP) once said, I “refuse to settle for anything less than butterflies.”

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The Office Whoreo

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Disclaimer: This is neither educational nor motivational. It will add no value to your life; just like the three “working girls” I’m about to describe in a minute.

After an eight-month hiatus from blogging and four failed password attempts while signing into WordPress, I find myself unable to suppress my thoughts about the one topic I was never interested in writing about before: workplace politics.

Instead, I used to encourage my readers to be independent, career-building, goal-oriented members of society. One day, I decided to take my own brilliant advice and get a full-time job. This ranks pretty high up on my list of “Biggest Mistakes I’ve Ever Made. . . EVER!” Not only was I happier before that, but I was more successful in the sense that I was doing something I enjoyed and interacting with people I liked.

When working as a freelancer from the comfort of my own home, I never really have to deal with functioning in an office environment. I have my clients, call my own shots and am as free as a bird. And although I’d already caught a glimpse of the unmatched Lebanese professionalism a few times (and no, I do not mean that as a compliment), I would have never predicted what was in store for me within a workplace.

As an educated person with manners, I was still in shock months into my – then – new job because of the “people” I had to deal with on a daily basis. Now don’t get me wrong; I worked with many fantastic people who I’d even become friends with, but then you have the unavoidable “I’ve come to ruin your day” folk that would make even Buddha hostile.
I guess I should have sensed it from week one, when Ms. Whoreo walked into my office in a skin-tight shirt and no trousers. As I stared at what could have been her secret garden, she stuck two large pieces of bubble gum in her mouth and proceeded with her enlightening questions, “You’re the new girl right? Who brought you here?”

I wasn’t really sure what she meant, but I explained to her that my credentials got me the job. For the first and last time since I (unfortunately) met her, she paused her camel-like chewing and stared at me emptily as though I’d just told her that her shirt is too long. Unable to remain in a vertical position for too long, she plopped herself down on a chair beside me, stretching out her bare cellulite-covered legs as she showed me the color on her toe nails – a blinding fluorescent shade of urine, capable of lighting up the state of Texas . . . during a blackout . . . on a moonless night. Forcing myself to smile (versus throwing her out of my office), I explained to her that I was very busy. Oozing with charm, Whoreo yawned loud enough for the whales of the South Pacific Ocean to migrate here believing it is mating season in the Mediterranean Sea. “Hahaha – busy doing what? It’s Friday! I’m so bored I could fall asleep,” she retorted so intelligently as she furiously chewed her gum. She even proceeded to mock my English, repeating “eeerrrr” and “yo, yo” and “yeah man” after every syllable I uttered, making me want to apologize to her for being able to speak more than one language fluently. I knew then and there that I’d fallen in-hate with this creature, but I was intrigued.
How did she manage to find a job that didn’t involve pole-dancing? She clearly had no qualifications where her mouth wasn’t involved, and she couldn’t have possibly completed high school. After asking around about her, I found out she secures a certain lowly and irrelevant job position, but has more immunity than a board member. When/if present at her desk, she answered calls with a mouthful of food or gum, strenuously signed on received packages, and welcomed visitors with open arms (and legs).

In an attempt to locate the fax machine, I found myself at Whoreo’s desk. To my surprise, she was chatting with yet another Whoreo who goes by the same name! Whoreo II actually managed to use her one “skill” to climb the career ladder; although I’m sure even her own mother knew, since the third grade, that her little Whoreo of love is better off as a stripper. Thirty years later, she does in fact look like a stripper, wearing a long, see-through sweater that matches the color of her nipples, no trousers – of course – and knee high patent leather boots. I couldn’t help but stare at her hair, wondering what color it was supposed to be (I don’t think cat vomit qualifies as a shade). Also, was it a perm-gone-bad, had she just gotten laid, or did she forget to brush those tresses for twelve weeks? Whoreo II caught me staring at her bed hair and gave me a dirty look followed by a very sexual sound, which turned out to be her voice forming a sentence, “Can I help you?” As I unwillingly looked at her sarcastic facial expression, I wanted to tell her that I’m not too fond of massages with happy endings, but instead I turned over to the less of the two evils, and asked Whoreo I to fax something over for me. She held a finger up at me, gesturing for me to wait. She was surprisingly overwhelmed with work; there was an excruciatingly focused expression on her face as she rested her D-cups on her desk, held the telephone with her left hand and jotted down notes with the right. “We’ve placed a large order to this address countless times before,” she snapped at the person on the other side of the call. She then took the document I wanted to fax and condescendingly said, “Look at me doing five things at once. Anything else I can do for you?” Maybe I had misjudged her, maybe she really was a hardworking, multitasking savior of planet earth. Maybe she was just a very bad dresser that didn’t know trousers existed. Maybe . . . My thoughts were interrupted with her bellowing into the receiver, “No, no, no! We want three chicken sandwiches, three hamburgers and four boxes of fries! Pfffft!” This time I couldn’t hide my shock. As she bent over just enough for me to catch a glimpse of her uterus, I snatched my document back, forced myself to say thank you and stormed off.

Whoreo III, who also goes by the same freaking name, was constantly hounding every male employee in the company. Her failed attempts at flirtation were possibly because she looked like an electrocuted hamster that reeked of desperation. Not only did she hate me for no reason, but her and her gang of juvenile dimwits had the loudest voices, most sordid fashion sense, and were BFFs with queen vagina, Whoreo I. Funny enough, this clique of Slutology grads thought everyone envied them. Whoreo II actually pranced around repeatedly bragging about all her haters, and how everyone in the company was jealous of her.

HA-HA-HA . . . No.

No one hates you, Whoreo II. We just all deeply and utterly dislike you because you’re a slut. You look like one, talk like one and act like one; and frankly, your arrogant, pompous attitude doesn’t match your white trash appearance – not one bit – or the fact that you’re uneducated, untalented and rude. The reason we don’t talk to you is because we don’t want to be associated with the office skank. It’s as simple as that.

So why care, you may ask. Ladies and gentlemen, I am pissed off because there is a hierarchy based on common logic that’s been twisted and remolded into something very ugly. The likes of Whoreo I, for example, need to understand that they are at the bottom of the corporate food chain. It is simply unacceptable for a vagina-baring homewrecker to give orders to higher-ranking employees (whose work is actually vital to the company) and get away with it; this is workplace politics.

In today’s work environment, it disappoints me to see such a trend where capable people with excellent credentials sit jobless at home, while such sasquatches get paid to disrespect their coworkers, chew gum and gossip all day.

If Whoreo I, II or III ever read this, I’d like to say two things:

  1. Somewhere, there are three trees wasting their time supplying each of you with oxygen. Apologize to them.
  2. Wear trousers for God’s sake!

As for all the employers out there who are content with such staff, I’d like to congratulate them on hiring the only three living creatures, who when combined, possess the IQ of a table. Here’s to growing your business!

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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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