You know I love you, that’s why it hurts to write this letter.

Remember all the fun we had my first couple of years of college? Y’know before my boyfriend (who later became my husband) made me get a job- taking me away from you and our special hour together? Of course you remember. You were as devastated. I had to hang up on you because I couldn’t talk through all your sobbing. I’m sorry I had to cut the cord that day. The truth is, I think Will felt threatened by the connection we shared. I know, you probably get that a lot, but this time it’s real.

Who could forget our discussions over weight loss, Brad and Jen (pre-split, of course!), and how great Texas beef really is? Oh the laughs we shared, and the tears we cried. Every weekday at 4:00 was such a special time!

And now… now there’s a chance that we might reunite! I know you were just as thrilled as I was. I’m sure the same things that were going through my head were going through yours when you learned I would be in Kuwait.

“Has she changed since we last met?”

“I hope she remembers me.”

“I hope this pink shirt doesn’t make me look fat.”

Don’t worry, Oprah, I remembered you- oh, and you look great in that shirt! Stop saying you look fat!”

Unfortunately, as excited as you’ve been to meet me, I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel.

I know, I know, you rearranged your “busy schedule” to come all the way over to the middle of nowhere, but the truth is, Op, I’m a busy lady in high demand. These websites I visit just can’t wait and I am not going to let them down, darn it. Not even for Oprah Winfrey.

So, I knew this news would be upsetting, and I knew you would have your people call my people to try to arrange a get together. How many more ways can I say, “I’m Busy!” without hurting your feelings!? Gah. Just let it go. You’re really beginning to look desperate.

Okay, I see you are going to pester me about meeting you, so here’s what I decided to do. Here is a list of the reasons I can not meet with you today. I don’t think I can make things any clearer than this!!

10. I wore entirely too much blush today. The lighting in my bathroom isn’t the greatest. I thought I needed a little more because apparently it just didn’t seem like 50 swipes was enough. I reapplied the pink horror one last time only to shock myself in the office bathroom this morning.

I look like a cross between Tammie Faye and a Rose Parade float. I can’t see you like this.

9. If the blush encompassing my entire face wasn’t enough, I have yet another unwanted entity sitting on my face, unrelated to makeup. That’s right, Oprah, I have a huge zit on the left side of my chin.  Talk about embarrassing. I’m greeting people before I even get to them. My chin shows up 20 feet before the rest of my does! I thought there was a chance it would clear up so I could meet you, but that just isn’t the case. In fact, I even bought some “Super Strength Will suck the life out of your zit in 3 minutes or your money back” stuff hoping it would help. Sadly, it hasn’t, and I look the exact same way I did yesterday. Only with more blush and a zit the size of a large ferret dancing around my chin with each word I speak.

8. There is a very strange smell emanating from one of the cubicles in my office. I am very paranoid it is mine. It smells like someone put a fresh bag of kettle corn inside a squishy and explosive baby diaper and let it marinate for 2.5 hours. I keep sniffing, trying to inconspicuously catch where the pungency is coming from, but I can’t be certain. I hope it’s not my cubicle.

7. I am having a fat day. I know you can relate to this. I mean, I’ve watched your fluctuate in the 80s and early 90s to finally blossom into one fit chick. Anyway- you know what’ I’m saying. My shirt is getting tucked into my little stomach roll, so unattractive. I can’t have you see me like this.

I am having a zitty, smelly, blushy, fat day. I could stop in my countdown, walk away, and you would totally understand, but here is more, so much more.

6. There are a whole bunch of new eastern hires standing around dour office. They have been standing around and trading turns on the couch for 4 hours. It’s very awkward because They are staring at my screen and it’s freaking me out. On top of that, I stick out in the office because I look like a typical American and so they keep looking at me and I’m getting creeped. Oprah, I don’t want to add to the awkwardness. If you came in here a riot would ensue. I know these young bucks are huge fans of your successful made for TV movies, and I know they know who you are and appreciate you just like the next guy. However, I am certain things would get out of hand and you would feel overwhelmed. I know you’re not used to autographs and pictures and I wouldn’t want to scare you.

5. I walked into the bathroom earlier today (after I saw my scary blush) and saw I had a little microbooger on the tip of my nose. How much more embarrassing can my life get!!? Too much blush, a huge zit, a FAT DAY, AND a micro-booger!!!? These things are supposed to happen one at a time! Oh, Oprah, you’re not familiar with this term?

Sorry, let me catch you up to speed. A micro booger is a teeny tiny little hanging booger just out the cavity of your nose. It’s not terribly noticeable at first site, but trust me, people see you with it.

Therefore from the time I went to the restroom this morning and saw “Big Blush” to the time I saw “microbooger” I have been walking around with crap coming out of my nose none the wiser. Living my life and talking to people and everyone wants to throw up their tuna salad and I’m smiling and having no clue why everyone is rubbing their nose and giving me strange looks. JUST TELL ME! Don’t let me walk around looking even MORE stupid! Ugh. Oprah, do you feel my pain!?

4.I have a VERY, I mean VERY stressful and demanding job, Oprah. Even more high profile than yours. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. Today I was swamped with a load feedback, and then I was weighed down with meetings at AOL.com, and to top it off I am so stressed about finding new sandals for my Saturday deadline. Ugh! Crucial stuff Oprah! As you can see I don’t just leave work at the door when I come home. I bring these things home. I carry the weight of my shoulders, but someone has to do it. You understand, don’t you? I guess not. I mean, you only have your own production company and TV show. That’s not all that hectic.

3. I’m in training. That’s right. I’m working out tonight and can’t talk to anyone. It’s sort of the age old rule of no sex before a game because the guy needs to be focused. That’s the same with me except I’m all about the first thing and not all about having meaningful conversations today. That means Will wins and you lose. Sorry Oprah, I just can’t waste my sentences. I need to keep to myself and remained focused on the challenge before me.

2. As of 3:00 today I am taking a vow of silence- until 6:00, that is.  The only window I MIGHT have had to meet you would have been between 3 and 6, and I am not speaking then so we can’t meet. It would be me staring at you and you talking away all about A Million Little Pieces and everything in between. I just wouldn’t be much company.

1. Will wouldn’t let me.

Thanks for understanding my situation. I’m just too busy for you and can’t really squeeze you in right now.

I know I’ll see you again sometime. Until then, we’ll always have your show…

Your Friend,

Brittny

***If you haven’t already guessed, the Oprah thing appeared to be a bad rumor. Sigh…

Do you remember that game?

Will and I played a feisty round this morning.

Actually, it was more like 7 rounds.

That’s right.

49 minutes in heaven.

Will is a stud.

Oooohhhhhh yyyeeeaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh.

This is how it went:

“Beep Beep Beep Beep”

SLAM.

Elapsed time: 7 minutes.

“Beep Beep Beep Beep”

SLAM.

Elapsed time: 7 minutes.

Repeat 5 more times.

That’s right, 49 minutes in Heaven with my sweet Will.

What better way to spend a morning?

What did you have in mind?

Actual love making in the morning?

Please.

We know what’s important in a marriage and it’s adequate sleep!

Ha ha, okay. Just kidding, but this morning we both preferred the rules of this game compared to the traditional way.

The alarm was set for 3:15 with the mutual understanding we could hit the snooze once and be up by 3:22.

Sidenote- Who in their right mind gets up at 3:!5 to go to a job they don’t even really like!?

Who does that!?

Who!!!!??????!

I’ll tell you who!

NO ONE!

No one in their right minds gets up in the middle of the night to go to work. There has to be something seriously wrong with people who live this way. Anything before 6:30 is just plain rude. Don’t you agree?

Okay, back to the matter at hand.

3:30 rolls around and I barely budge. Will groggily rolls over and violently attacks the crap out of our alarm. I don’t think he meant to slam it 37 times, but he did. I’m surprised it went off again.

We didn’t get out of bed until 4:10. I was in a panic.

We jumped in the shower. I felt like I was in army basic training. “Go Go Go! 2 Minutes! 2 Minutes! 2 Minutes!” I just knew that any second a muscular and menancing drill sergeant was going to rip open the shower curtain and give me a dreaded pink belly while simultaneously flushing the toilet.

Anyway, a strange thing happens to me when I’m feeling rushed. For whatever reason, when I’m in a hurry to get ready, my nose starts to run out of the blue and uncontrollably. Isn’t that weird!?

I don’t know if it’s because I’m rushing around and snorting and breathing like I’m Sea Biscuit or what, but I snot all over the place. When this occurs, I do what any normal person would do (ha).

I stick toilet paper up my nose to catch the flow. Yep. That’s right. I have a walrus sort of thing going on but instead of huge white spears coming out of my mouth, they’re coming out my nose.

I know you’re wondering how hot it makes Will. Trust me, he can’t keep his hands off me when I’ve got my walrus look (ha again).

So today as I rushed I was Brittny the Walrus.  I had one nostril under control, but when the second one started to flow I really thought to myself, “I’m sitting here, trying to do my hair, sweating like a pig, with Quilted Northern Shoved up my nose.”

There comes a point in every woman’s life after playing 7 minutes in Heaven when they simply question their dignity.  I did just that as I aggressively brushed my teeth while trying to keep the tissue from sticking to the toothbrush.

Oh I feel so dirty.

Who am I?

So I started off the morning a little rushed- and still debating whether the extra sleep was really a good idea.

I got to work and decided that after the “rushy” morning I should get breakfast at the mess hall and bring it back to my office. I was all set and good to go. I was enjoying my breakfast and checking my email when all of a sudden a piece of my egg white omellete fell in slow-mo, plummeting between the H and the G of my keyboard. “BAM,” it resounded as it bounced in between keys. I let out a slow motion, “Nooooooooo” as I watched my breakfast lodge itself into the black abyss. I tried my best to dig it out to no avail.

I hate- HATE- a dirty keyboard. It drives me bananas (B-A-N-A-N-A-S). I can’t stop thinking about it. It has consumed my thoughts all day. I’ve tried everything. Even those air dusters. I’m afraid my breakfast is destined to remain trapped In GH forever.  How gross.

So that was my morning:

Oversleeping,

snotting all over myself,

dropping my omelette between G and H.

Yep. That’s about right. Sounds like another typical day in my life.

In other news, the current rumor at our camp is that OPRAH is coming next week. Apparently one of the ladies in our office thinks she’s coming because she wrote her and asked her to come visit. Now, who knows if this is true, but apparently it’s even been in the papers. I won’t believe it until I see her for myself. Rumors are constantly circulating about stuff like that since so many famous people are in and out for the soldiers. Anyway, I’m counting it as rumor, but to be safe I’m bringing my camera everyday next week. J

I am having quite possibly the funniest work day ever. My mom, dad, and I are all three way emailing and it is cracking me up. My mom just called me and couldn’t even talk. All she was doing was laughing, which made me bust out laughing- which was embarrassing because my office was quiet. Oh my gosh. I wish I could put the emails in here but I can’t. Trust me, I’m in tears from holding back hysterical laughter.

So that’s it for now.  Your walrus friend is going to get back to work.

There’s just something about hearing a British person talk that puts a pep in my step.There are a lot of British people in Kuwait. They are crawling around everywhere and it is so fun. I love it.

Something seems to happen to me whenever I’m around a Brit- I turn into a mesmerized idiot. Okay, not really, but on the inside I do. On the inside I am shyly giggling like a little seven year old that is meekly asking Mark B., the gorgeous 12 year old that sings in the “big kids choir,” for a bible bookmark because, “I said all this months memory verses by heart!”

Aren’t you impressed Mark?

It’s quite a strange phenomenon. I don’t know why I transform, but I do.

Whenever I talk to someone from the U.K. I am not fully involved in the conversation. They are talking, and the whole time I’ve got the girly laugh going on and I’m repeating their sentences in my head with my best mental British accent, constantly thinking, “I love this person!”

You could have two total idiots-one a Brit and one an American- around me for 2 hours, telling terrible jokes and asking annoying questions, and I would simply not hate the Brit as much as I would the American because of their freaking accent. What is up with that!?

Okay, I LOVE America- don’t think this is that sort of post.

It’s more of a “I am fascinated by the fact that ‘fit’ means cute, and when you wear pants that means you’re wearing underwear and when you’re wearing trousers you’re wearing pants, and every other fun little words and phrases they use that we have no clue about.

We really have more language differences than I would have thought. It’s so funny. I mean, I knew things were different, but I have to admit, I was a little red in the face when M asked me for a rubber a few weeks ago…

ERASER you crazy girls!

What were YOU thinking!?

Ha ha. Probably the same thing I was thinking… I took another British person and 2 Americans to convince me he didn’t want to violate me.

Ha.

Go figure.

Eraser.

Those Brits live in a totally unknown world to us. It’s like we’re peering into some ancient Incan ritual and they’re getting ready to strip us naked and play their time-old treasured game of flag pigbladder football, and we’re just nodding our heads with stupid smiles on our faces, pretending we know EXACTLY what is going on. I am terrible with the stupid smile and shake my head thing too, it’s so obvious I have no idea what I’m doing.

It’s freaking English! There should be no gap!

I do, however, argue we speak “American” in the states, and the more I’m around people from the U.K., the more I totally believe we do our own thing.

That brings me to tomorrow.

Tomorrow morning is my big hair appointment.

Now, I should say that my personal experience with the British majority here does not exactly reflect the way things are in reality. While my contact is frequent, it is mostly either work related or hair related. Also, I’m generalizing my hair experience here. I would hope if you went to a British salon in the U.K. things would be different than they are here.

The whole “getting your hair done process” is like a whole ordeal here. I go to pretty much the only place in the country that does blonde hair. It’s a depressingly overpriced “We can charge you whatever the heck we freaking want because we have a monopoly on all you dumb blondes so just shut up, sit in the chair, and stop complaining about the cost because if it wasn’t for us you’d have jacked up hair” British salon downtown.

I like where I go… I guess. I mean, considering I know they know what blonde highlights are and can actually do them.

I go to a beautiful British girl named Layla. She is super quiet (at least, when she is at work) and has awesome hair- which is something that is crucial in a stylist, right!? She has always done a really great job on my hair. I’m always really happy, even though it always looks the same (we’ll get to that later) I have to admit, though, the whole American/British hair experience here has been somewhat of a let down for several reasons:

1.Little Variety.

I can pretty much tell you exactly what my hair is going to look like this very instant.

All I have to do is show you a picture of my sister.

She just got her hair done there last week. I can almost guarantee that what Layla did to my sister, she will do to me. This is scary for a few more reasons. I will put these into subpoints.

A. The first thing I literally thought

when I say my sister’s hair was,

“Woahw.” Yeah- Woahw.. like Woah

with a big and emphasized

wwwww.

She had super ultra blonde hair. Like yellowish. I totally freaked out because after I thought, “Woahw!” I thought,

“Crap. I’m looking at a replica of myself in a few short days.” Just take her, add some weight and height, and I’m a walking sun beam, blinding the world one hair flip at a time.

Oh, and don’t worry about me offending my sister, she was shocked by her platinumness too. They pretty much do their own thing where we go. I am all worried about going tomorrow because- first of all I don’t want people’s reaction to be, “woahw!” When they see me, and secondly, I really want to look nice for Will because we have a night on the town for our anniversary!

However, I feel I will be radiating the “Woahw” effect tomorrow afternoon. I just know it. How terrible is it to KNOW you are going to freak yourself out everytime you look in the mirror because your hair could serve as a potential energy source because of it’s reflective appearance before you even go to the salon!?

That’s bad.

It’s like going to the the bathroom KNOWING you are going to walkout with your skirt tucked into your panty hose (good thing that one’s ever happened to me…do you believe me? You shouldn’t.)

B. Last time my sister went she asked

for a few low lights. Layla looked at

my sister like she was a total idiot

and told her, “We don’t do that here.”

Only it sounded so much more joyous and wonderful to hear, “No you idiot! What in the crap are you talking about!? Leave the hair stuff to a professional ‘we’re better than you’ Brit honey, pft” coming from a British person compared to just a normal American person like you or me. (It’s all in their awesome accent, I’m telling you).

See, no variety… and if you asked for something different I would be terrified they would jack it up and make it really extreme instead of just a subtle change.

For example, I decided I wanted some side bangs a few months ago. I asked Layla for this and she pulled a large chunk of my hair and was about to cut thick and short bangs all the way across. I totally freaked out.

“Wait!” I politely yelped, about to throw up from nervousness.

I tried to explain to her what I was wanting. She looked at me like a light bulb went on above her head and she asked me in her sweet British accent,

“Oh, do ya mean ya want fringe (you stupid no-nothing American)?”

“Yes! Fringe!” I exclaimed. I then wanted to say, “but because you talk awesome I’ll take the ugly bangs if that was your original plan.”

Little variety.

This is my greatest let down.

All 15 of us blondes in Kuwait are walking cookie-cutter versions of each other. Forget the fact that skin tone and all that other stuff play a role in what color your hair should be. Here, at the depressingly overpriced “We can charge you whatever the heck we freaking want because we have a monopoly on all you dumb blondes so just shut up, sit in the chair, and stop complaining about the cost because if it wasn’t for us you’d have jacked up hair” British salon downtown, it is one color fits all.

“Oh! You have skin close enough to match Casper or Morticia Addams Brittny!! That’s great! Why don’t I give you lightening bolt blonde hair so you look even more albino!!?”

Again, it sounds a lot better with their urban London accents.

If Letitia (my awesome stylist in the states) would have said that I would have responded with a huge, “NO!” in an instant, but when Layla says it I’m like, “hmmm, you really think so? Yeah, I liked Powder…”

2 No Conversation.

I hate that about where I go! I loved going to my stylist back home because she became my best friend for the afternoon. We could talk about everything. She is so easy going and it was always so much fun. It was like a condensed grade school slumber party minus the pillow fight, scary stories, and gorging of Twinkies.

At my current salon I am afraid to breathe, let alone talk. Everything is so British and “posh (as they say!)” and in. Here I am wanting to yak Layla’s ear with my terrible Oklahoma twang, and she is having pieces of foil handed to her by the little indentured servant slave girls.

Hmmm, it’s like the Clampetts go to the Beauty Salon when I go there or something. It’s the longest 2 hours of my entire life. Ever.

I look through their British magazines- and by the way- all they talk about are the Beckhams in those things! It drives me bananas!  B-A-N-A-N-A-S!!!

It’s like I have to consciously tell myself to shut up. She’ll ask me one question and it’s like a horse race with the announcer screaming, “And she’s off!” and I go on and on and then have to mentally stop and turn off the talking switch. It’s a bummer.

3. No clean brushes.

This is just plain ridiculous, and I don’t think it is a British thing- at least I hope it’s not!

I think it’s just a salon where I go to thing.

Apparently at the “We can charge you whatever the heck we freaking want because we have a monopoly on all you dumb blondes so just shut up, sit in the chair, and stop complaining about the cost because if it wasn’t for us you’d have jacked up hair” salon, they feel that since they are charging everyone their sister’s kidney as admission we all have hair made of gold and so no one’s hair has fault or dandruff.

Oh, and we don’t even want to mention the “L” word!! (lice, that is)

I cringe every time she pulls out her comb and goes to town. I mean, at least make it look like you clean them often! I saw one stylist pull out a wad of hair that was imbedded in a comb and just toss it back in the little drawer.

AGH. Can I please freak out now!? Maybe it’s BYOC or something… but I highly doubt. Yeah, that can’t be a British thing. It must just be my salon.

Another thing is that they don’t stick me under the dryer. I hate that. I’ve always gone under the dryer for as long as my little head has gotten “peroxided.” They don’t do that here.

The first time I got my hair done Layla set the timer and I asked,

“Where do you want me to go?”

She looked at me like she had no idea what to say,

“To the store?”

“To Starbucks?“

“To hell?”

Instead she just said, “What?” in her wonderfully refined accent.

“Do you want me to go to the dryer?”

She looked at me strangely and said, “No, you’re fine where you are.”

“Oh, okay.”

You’re British so even if you’re wrong (which you totally are!) you sound like you know what you’re talking about, therefore I’ll accept your answer.

Had enough yet?… Okay, I’ll be merciful and stop today.

So I think I can overlook most of these little oddities. I can’t however shake off the fact that tomorrow afternoon my hair will look like a cross between urine and a banana. It’s just one of those unsettling things, y’know!? I’ll be honest and say I’m used to my sister’s brightness now. It just took me a couple of times. Hopefully I’ll say the same thing after I get mine done.

Tomorrow, as I walk the Green Mile to Layla’s chair of fear, I’m sure I’ll smile, crying on the inside, and will fall prey to her charismatic accent.

Those freaking Brits with their fancy accents… I don’t stand a chance.

I will simply say today: be warned. The beginning isn’t bad… but it gets worse.

With that said I will start.

I flushed a wash cloth down the toliet.

Isn’t it amazing how many of my posts deal with crap? If I look through the archives I can think of at least 3 with toliets as a main topic- and that’s 3 too many!

My junior high best friend’s parents teased that I would have to start going to the bathroom outside after a plug up incident at their house. Oh if they only knew all the major feats I had yet to accomplish in my high school and college career… they would be so proud.

Anyway, I flushed a wash cloth.

I am officially an idiot. I just finished my work out and headed to the bathroom. Because I have the elliptical in the privacy of my own home I can do whatever the heck I want! If I want to exercise in MC Hammer pants and a lime green sports bra with a purple sweatband on my head I can freaking do it! Since I have hyperhydrosis (I say that but I don’t know for sure. I sweat like a man that’s all I know. To me that’s too much. Thank God for Certain Dri) I have to constantly towel myself so that my eyes don’t burn from all the salt infused sweat I rain. I keep my little cloth tucked in the back of my shorts- like in the waistband by the small of my back. Okay, enough of all the stupid details.

I finished working out (as I already said) and went straight to the bathroom. As I flushed I noticed my toilet paper looked a little fluffy. Then it hit me. I flushed my freaking wash cloth!!

And you know what!?!?!

IT WENT DOWN!!

Will has been freaking out about it. Apparently just because it went down doesn’t mean we’re in the clear- at all. There’s a good chance it will get lodged in there, and with my luck I will have eaten a load of mexican food and overdosed on Fibercon only to flush after birthing a moose and have my toliet violently puke all over the floor in protest to the whole wash cloth thing.

Ew.

Yep. That is sooo my luck.

Next week you’ll see a post about this. I pray not, but probably.

As I flushed, and as Will was freaking out as I yelled what I had done, I had flashbacks to my early grade school years. I had the flu and was really sick and shaky and had the runs so bad it was probably unnatural.

Anyway… PAUSE- am I REALLY talking about this to you guys!? Do you REALLY care!? Of course not! Why then am I sharing this horrifying information with a large group of pretty and sophisticated ladies!? AGH. I feel so embarassed. I’m debating whether I should delete this… I know I should… but I won’t. I’m in too deep to my story.

Okay, anyway, I was changing the toliet paper roll when all of a sudden I dropped the plastic holder thing the toliet paper rests on in the toliet! As a 7 year old I had no clue what to do- I just knew I wasn’t going to fish that thing out!

So, I call my dad.

That’s what dad’s do right?

Well because I was a young and dumb (ha, now I’m old and still dumb. so sad...) I thought it was best not to verbalize what I had just done and instead lift a cheek so that poor old dad could see my damage.

“Ew britt, flush,” he said so tenderly and sympathetically (ha!).

I had to say, I was shocked to hear him tell me to flush, but he was dad and he knew everything and if it was going to flush and he wasn’t concerned, then by golly, neither was I!!

I finished up and flushed and then mentioned that the roller went down just fine. he looked at me with shock and asked what I was talking about. Apparently he just thought I wanted to share my love with him by showing him the art I created on the toliet bowl. He falied to notice the freaking black toliet paper holder floating right in the middle!!

Dad- why in the world would you think I would just want to show you that! Yeah, I was 7, but please! I have a little more couth than that- even at 7!
The toliet was surprisingly fine that day but then the next day it turned into a huge mess. Water went everywhere and warped some of the wood in the next room. It was just a little lake in our house. All from a little 7 -year-old.

huh. 

We had to have a German plumber come and fix it. that’s all I remember.

anyway, that was my flashback. I could just see us having some huge leak and water splurting everywhere and having to call a plumber to come here on a holiday weekend (it’s a Kuwaiti holiday this weekend- sidenote, it is PANDEMONIUM here, but maybe I’ll talk about that later). We would be told Ensha Allah (not sure of the spelling, sorry!), which means “If it’s God’s will.” So- Ensha Allah I will be there tomorrow, but it could also be 2 months. It’s sort of a scary term because you never really know when things are going to get done.

So, now we play the toliet waiting game. Praying that little washcloth will join the ranks of all the other great “non flushable” items that have gone on before it.

“Swim little wash cloth! Swim!”

So there you go. Another stupid and embarrassing story I am sharing with you guys even though I shouldn’t. Oh well. I guess I’m brave… or just weird. One of the two!

Do you speak another language?

Are you quick at translatng?

Would you like to become well traveled and see a different part of the world?

Then you, yes YOU are encouraged to join the dynamic, ever changing, never a dull moment CrazyGirlInc.

We here at CrazyGirlInc. feel you are more than capapble of taking on the duties necessary in carrying out the company’s mission: to keep Brittny Lynne’s head together and make sure she does not fall apart. Yes, I know this task seems far too big for just one person, but we believe you are more than capapble of rising to the occasion.

Interested?

Then you have a job spending your every waking moment with me, translating the gibberish I hear everday! Okay, so the beginning was totally dorky, but what do you expect by now!?

A couple days ago I was in a situatuion in which these ladies were speaking their native language- of course I have no idea what they are saying, and for that matter, I don’t even know what language they were speaking all together- but I think it was something I should have known. It was one of those bad feelings I got as I heard a few key words.

The lady I ride to work with is from a different country. On top of that, she moved to britian and is a citizen of the UK- so she is a ________ (WPP protected) with a British accent. So- she has 2 accents going on. She is great, but I have a hard time understanding the asdfjsdklfjkljf (that mess represents the language, that is what my stupid interpretation) with random Enligh words thrown in, not to mention when she is just speaking English period.

I feel bad constantly saying,

“What?”

What?”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Once more time please?”

I seriously try really hard to listen, and I know she is trying hard to get me to understand but sometimes it doesn’t work.

Anyway, today she had to pick up one of her friends and on the way to work they start talking whole sentences mixed with English and their other language. That’s fine by me, I’m just along for the ride so it didn’t bother me at all. However, a few minutes into our ride I hear “sdfja;sdlfjksjd… the safety concern.” Okay, so I don’t understand “a;ksjiouer,“ but I understand safety concern, and not only that, but THE safety concern. There’s a safety concern? what safety concern? I try to hear more, but all I get is, “ s;dfjeurwoeiru,” and then bomb threat.

Okay, I’m no rocket scientist or even masters degree grad for that matter, but hearing the words “THE safety threat and bomb threat” within two minutes of eachother had me feeling like I just ate 50 Snickers bars and rode It’s a Small World 86 times at Disneyworld (I had a bad experience). The blood drained from my face.

Then!

Then!

Guess what happes next!!!?

THEN I hear, “aslfjweoriu Britney Spears.”

Followed by:

“ha ha ha ha ha ha ha,” An erruption of laughter.

Hmmm, do you think that was in reference to a paticualr person? Like the blonde in the back seat?

Nah…

I’m just paranoid.

So I really need to learn a language here. There is so much diversity here. I have truly enjoyed getting to lear about the many cultures here. It is very interesting, but it also makes most Americans feel pretty “normal.“ I know few people that can speak any of the many languages that are spoken here. So many different nationalities live here and they all speak their own language and I have no clue. My high school and college intro to German have done me No good.

Okay, so I am now trying to link the last 5 minutes of my ride as I’m regretting the bottle of water I had earlier that morning. I have a bladder the size of an 85 year old woman and when I get all nervous (I usually get all worked up about nothing!) I gotta go. Okay, THE safety concern. I’m an “analyzer” as it is anyway, so there could be absolutely NOTHING going on at all, and I would be fully convinced that there was a full scale evacuation of the entire country later that afternoon. In fact, my mind wandered there. Hmmm, I wonder if I’ll have time to grab some extra underwear, deoderant, oh yeah… and our pictures (you have to get the “important” stuff you know. ha ha) Bomb threat? How does that tie in? I don’t think that’s really the pertinent question. All I know is that it does. Now, what about that crazy Britney Spears? That silly girl. What is she up to? I had quite a ride wondering what they were really saying as the conversation switched from the country’s evacuation that day to “Britney Spears.” Okay, so I’m sure it was about the baby, but one of the ladies had called me Britney Spears last week, so I had to wonder. What!!? Is it because I’m freakin’ blonde and pale as Casper and look like a freak here!? --> whole other post. Now I’m just being flat annoying.

Anyway, the ride was Its a Small World All Over Again.  So, I’m taking offers for translators to hang around each day. I promise I would be a good employer. All I know is that Britney Spears is the huge safety concern in Kuwait and she is making bomb threats. You’d think with the whole just giving birth to Kevin’s third child thing would have slowed her down.

Guess not.

To inquire about positions in CrazyGrilInc. click the feedback button below and someone will get back to you shortly. We are an equal opportunity employer, meaning we will review all applications, even those who are not “crazy” like our CEO.

Yes, it is official. I am going crazy.

Just X out of this post and pretend you NEVER read it

If you haven’t already realized, I say tend to say some pretty dumb things sometimes. I regularly say something that leaves Will simply looking at me in disbelief and saying, “Are you being serious?“ It goes back to the whole book smart and blonde dumb I think.

I stuck my foot in my mouth BIG TIME yesterday. As if my first few days weren’t nightmarish enough, I just went ahead and went all out.  If Will would have been there, I know for a fact his jaw would have dropped to the ground and he would have told people I was his derranged sister that wants to hug on him because and call him husband because I have emotional problems, if anyone asked if we were married.

After the big meeting I didn’t have anywhere to go, so I hung out in my mom’s office. I know the people she works with, one of them being a friend my mom has gotten to know fairly well since she’s been here.

This lady is so nice. She has a different ethnic background than I, and she is very proud of her heritage. I truly enjoy learning about her culture and the customs and practices. She has a lot of stories about her family and their life. She talks about her culture a lot, so there are times you are talking about one thing and somehow we get on the subject and I don’t even realize it.

So yesterday she was teaching me a few things about their food and stuff. The conversation ended and I went back to typing an email. A few minutes later, my mom tells her something and starts to give her a hard time. The lady (can’t say her name or it will give it away) starts teasing around and says, “What do I know, I’m just a _____________ (can’t way the term, pretty derogatory)!“ She starts laughing.

My mom laughs too (because they have that sort of friendship).

I don’t say anything.

“Do you know what that stands for Britt?“ she asks.

“No.“

“It stands for: _____________ (still can’t say, but whatever you thinking you are probably right) .“

“Oh! How cute! That is too funny that you guys came up with that!“

She just gives me a strange look. Not really a mad look, just a weird one.

A few seconds later she says, “ Do you know what other names there are for us?“

She then proceeds to give me a few, all which I totally knew.

“Yeah, I know all those. People called me cracker. I guess that is one of those terrible stereotypes our society has. I think it’s great that you guys have a name you use that shows them who’s the boss!“

She just looks at me and says nothing. She then says, “______ is not a name we came up with, it is a name others gave to us. It’s a terrible insult.“

Insert foot in mouth.

I had no freakin’ idea what _____ was. I’m sure I’ve heard it in passing but never thought much of it, but boy will I remember forever now! I can’t believe I said it was freakin’ CUTE!!

I was so embarrassed. Talk about insulting a culture! “That ______ word is so cute! You show those people who’s boss!“

What an idiot.

So last night we all went to dinner and I asked Will and my sister if they knew what ______ meant. They first told me to quick talking so loud because I’d get us all shot, and then they looked at me like I was a cave woman that had been frozen in 1000 B.C.

Apparently EVERYONE knows what that term means… everyone but me!!

Thanks guys, I really could have used some street knowledge on cultural sensitivity before I had that conversation.

To the unemployed, unkempt, “immature“ Britter-Bob girl to the left:

We had a great run, didn’t we? Good times, good laughs. However, it is time for me to bid you farewell. You’ve been a faithful friend for almost 4 months, but as they saying goes, all good things must come to an end. I can’t imagine my life without you, but it is time for me to let go, hoping that distance truly does make the heart grow fonder.

I wish I could take you along for this new journey in my life, but you and I both know that would be impossible. Not only would my job be on the line, but I honestly think you break about 57 unspoken corporate rules before even walking out the door to your apartment. Hey, I don’t mean to down you- you’re great- but you know I’m right. I can’t really say you’ve eqiupped me for the next stage of my life, but I can say I’ve had lot of fun. We’ve had lots of good time trapped on floor 10 huh? You are a great friend and I am sad to say goodbye, but my love, it is time. So… here I go with my many farewells.

I first say goodybye to your Outfit of the Week. For those reading this I must clarify. My dear friend would wake up in her “jammies” and hang out in them for a few hours… or most of the day… (yes, I am exposing my embarrassing summer laziness- but hey! We were stuck in an apartment all day) then she’d go to the gym, which require an outfit change. She would then get in the shower around 4:15 (literally 30 minutes before Will got home… as long as I look a little more put together he can think I looked that way all day if he wants… I know the truth!) and put on her “nice outfit” consisting of soffe shorts and a tee. So fancy. You really do have great fashion sense (ha ha). She would then wear it for like 3 days straight. So pathetic… but when you sit around and do nothing, that is what you get. I am sure your husband will be so sad to see the Outfit of the Week put to rest, but I’m sure he will manage.

Goodbye Outfit of the Week.

I must also say farewell to your great taste in television and the hours of thoughtless starting at the screen. That will be hard to let go.

Daytime TV is so great. sigh. Where to start?

Home and Away. Who knew how great Australia primetime was!? I love you all (see, I even talk like I “know” them. that is how you know it is time to let go). To Tasha, Scott, Beth, Irene, Sally, Robbie, and all the others: I hope things go well in Summer Bay. Scott, be careful! I read ahead and Danni is about to cut the cord! I always thought you were too good for her anyway. Anyway all, be on your guard. It seems like the tense situations get the greatest ratings- which I personally would be fine without for the most part, but you know… anyway, thanks for the great story lines and excitement. You will be missed the most (did I mention I was obsessed?).

Ah, Roseanne. You are the best. My mom would never let me watch you when I was younger because he thought you were trashy. What a hoot. I managed to keep up with you and Dan back then, but I sure did stick it to my mom this summer, as an adult that could watch whatever good, quality “trashy” bad influence stuff I want.Roseanne? Trashy? What was she thinking? I have to laugh when I think about that. There were far worse thing I could have been watching than Roseanne. Anyway Rosie, thanks for being “real” (once again, talking like they are not just characters, but hey, I need “closure“ , so bear with me) There is something that makes me want to live in a simple “Lanford” one day. How comforting and easy.

Other daily shows I must farewell are: Drew Carey reruns, Trading Spouses reruns, and most of all Maury Povich (now THAT, mom, is sheer Trash.). I will also say goodbye to watching mindnumbing episodes of Spongebob Squarepants every day at 4:00 on MTV Europe. Those Europeans are strange people.

Goodbye washed up, cancelled terrible TV shows (minus Home and Away!).

Enough with the TV talk- You are one louse! I guess that is your job, and for that reason I am sad to say goodbye. See!? You HAVE a job! It’s to keep my busy. If Will only agreed.

I must also bid goodbye the terrible but oh so wonderful things you shoved down my throat. I have to get away from you. If I don’t I will balloon.

Quickly.

But, I sure did have fun with you. I will miss having Pizza Hut thin crust cheese at least once a week. I will miss cherry frosted poptarts and soft batch cookies. I will miss eating an entire box of cereal for three meals and kiling it in less than 2 days. I will miss all the creations you concoted with a chocolate frosting base. Wow. I never knew saltines were so good slathered in Betty Crocker. That (eating “crap”) was my most terrible vice, and for that you must go. That was best (and worst!). See, I DID have a good 4 months! Why in the world did I complain about wanting a job when I have you?!

Maybe I should keep you around. Jobs are overrated. Okay, so I can’t do that, but how fun would that be? I complained about lugging you around all summer and now that I have to let you go, I’m not so sure you are worth kicking to the curb. You are priceless. Do you think if I told that to Will he’d let me be a SAHW? I am seriously doubting it. Therfore, I must continue on with my goodbyes.

I must also say goodbye to the stressfree schedule you allowed me: Get up with Will. After he leaves: “Go back to bed… for however long you darn well please. As long as you get the house stuff done know one has to know! You deserve it. You wash and iron his clothes for crying out loud. That’s at least 2 hours you can cash into sleep.”

I like the way you think. So many schedule loopholes you designed. You are a genius! I never knew humans could revert to “cat” behavior and sleep more than they are awake, but you have proven me wrong. They should hire you instead of me, though I’m not sure how the “classy” clothes, no makeup, and messy hair look would go over, or the chocolate smear on the left side of your cheek.

Maybe I better take this one.

Just know I will miss your laid back approach to everything. I am certain I am the most worrisome, uptight person I know, so you really helped me let my hair down this summer. I owe my open, “I’m tired of putting up with crap and being too nice to say anything” attitude all to you. I’m not sure others will appreciate that, but always know that I do.

There are so many praises you are worthy of, but I must close this letter before I tear my offer letter to shreds and cling to you like hairspray on an 80s supermodel. You are a lot better than I gave you credit for, if only I would have appreciated all the time I had with you before I the day before work (boo!). You might be worth the SAHW career, but I can’t find out- plus I would get huge and lazy and that’s lose-lose.

So, heres to the great times we had this summer. I owe them all to you. I know I ‘m becoming the “reponsible grown-up now,” but always know that I’m hiding you away from the rest of the world, so that one day you can shine before them too. Thank you, Thank you, Thankyou. <3

Love,

The employed, put together, “responsible (heh heh)”

BrittnyLynne

Today is long! I went on entirely too long, and I even cut some stuff out!This is pretty much a minute by minute recap of my whole trip, just so I can look back and tell myself I didn’t totally hate my first few months here, so I’m sorry it if is mind numbing today!

August 27, 2005

I’m beyond angry right now. Will and I “splurged” and got the internet in our room, but it won’t let me post. How irritating.

I’m fully convinced that the first few hours of a vacation are crucial in a relationship. The first few hours set the tone for the first day, and maybe even the whole trip!

Okay, like- how did you wake up? Was it super early and you both stayed up too late cramming the shirt that you HAD to have but will probably never wear into you over-packed suitcase?

Are you running late and rushed? This could create attitude conflicts.It could also leave Will very annoyed, and if we’re both late, it just puts everyone in a bad mood!

Is it hot (this is my issue)? Are you waiting outside with the luggage (after being rushed) with the sun pounding on your head while your husband goes out back to get the car!? Being hot puts me in a terrible mood. It is crucial that I do not let it get to me during the “mood setting” hours.

What about the drive there? This can be just as important as climate for setting the vacation aura. Is your spouse driving like the plane leaves in 20 minutes, leaving your body to be pressed against the seat because of all the G Forces? “We have to make good time!” We have to make what!? We are leaving 2 hours early. I would say that can be considered “good time.”

What about missing your exit?

Twice.

“Sorry. I can’t believe I did that… again.” (but I’ll make up for it by driving my Camry like it’s a Vet).

Also, how far away are you parking? The closer the better… but this rule was thrown out today. “I LOVE lugging my bag 4.5 miles to the entrance.” These are all crucial factors.

Will: “Do you know where to check in?”

Brittny: “Yeah, I think it’s over there.”

Will: walking a different way than “there.“

“I thought you said you knew where we were going.”

“I DID! You went a different way!”

All of these factors, occurring in the beginning hours of a trip have the potiential to set the vacation momentum. These were the many factors Will and I faced this morning, and although there was opportunity to get snippy, we did very well.

I did, however get the “talk” about being more responsible and not so careless. I then got defensive and went on and on about how responsible I was… only to unknowingly have my ticket fall out of my lap and onto the floor as I “carefully” headed to the bathroom none the wiser. Thank goodness for Will! So much for being responsible.

I think “early vacation momentum stress” is a universal thing, and after watching other couples while we waited for our plane, I quickly learned that vacation tension knows all regions. I couldn’t understand a single word these couples were saying, but I didn’t need to. The nonverbals said it all. My best bet was that she was running late this morning, making him mad. He said something stupid about it, and she unleashed on him- probably about all his annoying habits, like leaving his full of stains dish dash (their long white robe- not positive on the spelling) on the floor, and never putting the lid down when he used the bathroom. I was glad that Will and I had made it through vacation round one unscathed.

***You go through a million metal detectors in the Kuwait airport, but I’m totally convinced that you could load your pockets with coins and your carry on with Swiss army knives and they’d never say a thing. I watched at 3 different spots how the x-ray watcher guy payed little attention, and how at one he was busy talking to someone as bags slid on through.

“Kuwait Air: Keeping you Safe One Metal Detector at a Time.“

So today Will and I flew on the best airline either of us had been on- remember it was one of the three 5 star airlines. ha ha. Anyway, Qatar air was very enjoyable , and I can see why it ranked so high. They didn’t play scary music, like Kuwait Air which was an instant plus. They had flat screens on every other seat, so that was nice. I do have to say, the snack was a let down. I guess they were too fancy for the simple Oklahomns.

After our short flight, I was once again greeted by the friendly lady that said “Welcome to Qatar where it is humid as a rainforest and hot as hell.” She wasn’t kidding. We got our stuff and got a taxi. So far, I have to say Qatar beats Kuwait. They have lush green grass everywhere. It is so beautiful. Doha, Qatar is truly an oasis in the desert. They are gearing up for the Asian Games next fall, so stuff is going up everywhere.

*** Well, as I had said earlier, our hotel was more expenxisive than we would have liked (little sidenote: this is a trip I have to take, so it wasn’t a planned vacation or anything and it wasn’t something we were financially planning for. So while this is a trip for us, it is actually something I had to do and learned about a week ago. The trip away with Will is just the bonus). There were limos and BMW 700 series pulling up to let off guests, and here comes me and Will, rollin’ up in our tiny Honda taxi.

We clearly stand out as we walk in. There are lots of older Westerns, and Arabs, but then here comes the young and Casper white Will and Brittny! I wanted to stay, “Yes, we are in the right place! Stop staring!” We get our stuff and ask a few questions and head to our room.

We get there and I have to go to the bathroom-bad (the fact that I have a bladder the size of an 80 year old doesn’te help the matter). I try to turn on the lights but nothing happens. Will and I try over and over, flipping the switch real fast, then real slow, and a million other techniques (yeah, because it’s all in the tecnhique… if a light doens’t turn on, you just flip the switch differently and it will work) to no avail.

“Surely they aren’t all burned out!”

This goes on for like 5 minutes and finally we, the young Clampett Americans call for help. Apparently you have to insert your card key in this slot fot the lights to work.

What you you doing! Are you just making up stupid stuff to look fancy!? Well, you look fancy and we look stupid! What a dumb idea- stick you card there and the lights work. They obvisouly don’t know I’m the most scatterbrained person in the world and there is no way I will remember to take my key with me unless its in my purse, and not in some “make the lights work in the bathroom” slot.

Enough about that! Our room is very nice.

I totally had a food crisis the first 10 minutes here. There is a yummy basket of fruit, calling to me on the table. I say, “I think it’s free.” Will says, “I think it’s not.” Go figure we would say different things.

Did I say we looked too young to be here? Maybe it’s too unrefined, though I think we know our etiquette and manners.

I text P and all she writes back is: LMAO! Call the front desk! Right. So they can hang up and say, “You’ll never guess what the Americans in 111 just said!” So, the fruit thing is up in the air, but I think I’m toing to have an apple anyway. I’ll show them!

Today was mostly spent getting here and figuring out the internet in out room. It’s from our tv, so it can’t do everything a a computer can- like post! The main reason we got it was for Will’s fantasy draft (talk about timing- in all the weeks out of the year our random trip and fantasy draft fall together). Will spent a chunk of the afternoon on our draft, which kind of put me in a bad mood. I felt bad because our “first hours momentum” kept getting better, and then it came to a stop. I really did need to shut my mouth, but it was too late. Like I said, I needed to realize our $ situatuion for this trip, plus the fact that this draft is so important to Will- maybe even more important since we are so far away from football this year. Anyway, that was a litlle hiccup.

After Will did fantasy stuff the plan was to go to Arbys and a grocery store to pick up water. We went down to ask about a taxi, and all the hotel provides were limos, which is not really how we wanted to spend out money. Talking taxis was a mess. “No thank you. We don’t want a limo. We just want a taxi,” we said a million times.

What we should have been saying was, “Look. We don’t want your freakin’ limo! We are on a budget and want a piece of crap to drive us around. Do you think you can find a piece of crap!?”

We ended up going with this rental service in the hotel and had the guy drop us off at the City Center, where we could do everything we needed. The City Center is the largest mall in the Middle East, and the 7th largest in the world. It was great. We mostly just went to say we have been there. There is an ice rink on the bottom floor, which is funny to think that in the middle of the desert there is ice. I guess you all need to own up to your, “when hell freezes over” bets, because it has happened! Kuwait has one too, but I’ve never seen it. 

We walked around a little. We went to the third floor there where was a movie theatre and little amusement park and got dinner, and then desert at TCBY. We walked around and slowly made our way to the grocery store. That was semi-stressful!

First off, I find one or two grocery stores I line and that is where I always go. because I know where eveyrthing is. Going here was all new! Plus it was super busy, which didn’t help as I bumped into everyone and their five children. “I just want some granola bars and some water!!!! That’s it! Is that to much to ask! Why don’t you label your aisles!!“ That is what I wanted to scream after about 10 minutes.

We got our stuff and grabbed a taxi and went back to the hotel. I got around for bed and put on their fluffy, cushy robe and decided that no matter what the real purpose of this trip- business or pleasure, I am going to have a good time.

August 28, 2005

This morning I woke up to a major surprise! A huge head of curly hair! Ugh. I tried so hard to make sure it would stay straight- to no avail. It is so humid everywhere. Our sunglasses are constantly fogging from walking inside to outside. Will and I got around and ordered room service for lunch. It was really good and I’m glad we did. I was starving and totally attacked my sandwich. Poor thing.

After that , Will got online to check his draft while I sat around. We have a tour of the city scheduled for 3, so hopefully it will be fun.

** Back again! Our tour was pretty cool. It was supposed to be 4 hours, but we cut it down to 2- thankfully! I think Will would have died! The emir of Qatar is trying to give his country lots of good PR. I mean, how many people can point to a blank map and find Qatar? His goal is to make Qatar a country people know, hence the good airline and hosting the Asain games.

750,000 people live in Qatar, and only 250,000 of them are Qataris! How crazy! The rest are TCNs, like in Kuwait. They are also rich because of oil. One liter of gas costs you 25 cents! Doesn’t that make you sick!?

Unlike Kuwait, drinking is allowed here- only in the desert and hotels. How they moniter this… I have no idea. The driving is just as bad- just imagine Kuwait, with a few drinks knocked back.

Horse and camel racing are a big deal here, and another propular pastime is falcon hunting. They take the falcons in the desert to hunt for game. They are very expensive and can cost up to $20,000! The guide took us to a falcon souq. It was so incredible! There were about 25 falcons, and they all had eyecovers on so they weren’t disctracted. They were hooked on perches, but totally out in the open. I asked for a picture, and this old man, clad in his dish dash and red headcover (meaning he had been to Mecca) went up on the platfrom where the falcons were and told me and Will to get up there and take our picture! It was so crazy! I was less than a foot form these powerful birds and it was amazing.

After that they took us to the camel market. The are popular for racing, but they are also eaten, especially during Rammadan. We saw a million other things, but I am getting tired of writing!

Tonight we decided to be lazy and get comfy. We ordered room service and watched You’ve Got Mail for the millionth time. The fruit thing is still up in the air, but tomorrow I think I’m going to make it my breakfast. Its not like its caviar or something! Its a Lebanese banana!

August 29, 2005

I had a good day today! I wish vacation lasted forever. I wish everyday was vacation. People may say, “Well then is it really vacation?” I’m willing to find out.

Will and I woke up about the same time and left the lights off. He checked his league, while I lay in bed wishing I could go back to sleep.

We ate a late breakfast.. and I ended up being a “rebel” and having a banana out of “the” frust basket. ha ha. what a goof.

We watched some TV and finally decided to get around. We called a “normal people” taxi to take us to the city center just to get out and about.

They have about a thousand athletic clothing/shoe stores, and about a million baby clothing/furniture/everything else your kid needs stores. I guess that’s because all women do here is reproduce 5 kids and then spend the rest of their lives chasing their little ones around, hence the demand for atheletic shoes.

I saw the funniest thing and am kicking myself that I didn’t get a picture! They have an abbaya Barbie! I love Barbie, and collected them up until my 2nd year of college (totally dork, I know). Maybe I should clairfy- I didn’t play with them, I just collected some of them… am I making sense? I probably sound totally weird. I hope you know what I mean! Anyway… back to the matter at hand...She had her long, black outfit, but she also came with a “regular” outfit- with a head scarf to go with it of course! Pretty crazy. I always wanted the teacher or singer or model Barbie. These girls want the Barbie with the stroller included (totally joking). I guess that is a cultural thing, and the way different groups are taught.

We ended up watching Bewitched in their theatre. The “new” movies in Qatar are just as behind as in Kuwait. I think Will may have fallen asleep through it. It was pretty cheesy, but cute. I love Nicole Kidman. After the movieI drove Will crazy for the next half hour twitching my nose and tugging my ear, and making the sound effects whenever Samantha moved her nose. After the move we had dinner… and TCBY. As I was walking ot the table I got a text telling me my visa was in. I was excited, but my elation quickly turned to reality. “It’s here.” I am officially required to be a responsible adult. My puppy dog days are over. :(

We walked around some more and decided to get a taxi and head to the hotel. As we waited Will looked at me in utter disgust and said, “You have a booger hanging out of your nose.”

Great. Thanks sweetie for the sickly look.

“It’s one of those that you can’t fix until you get alone.” Even better.

I got my mirror out and he was totally right. Something about living in the desert makes the whole nose situation very bad. I won’t gross you all out.

I tried sniffing really hard… nothing. I did this for 3 or 4 minutes as Will aimlessly tried to get us a taxi.

“It’s because I have a booger huh!!!?”

We waited and waited (good thing it wasn’t humid or hot or anything! <--- sarcasm!!)

Finally 2 pull up. A nice one, and one that looks like 30 drunk Qataris piled in and decided to take this tiny 1980 toyota camel tipping.

It, of course, stops for us.

It was because of my snot. I’m totally convinced.

Do we have an aura that screams we are hicks from Oklahoma or something!? Did our hotel send you as a joke!?

We hop in and I begin praying. As we are listening to Britney Spear’s “Toxic“, the only think I keep thinking about was that she must have written this song after riding in this orange taxi and breathing the stench. I will now forever associate this song with tonight’s ride.

As I tried to buckle up I realized Safety is about as important as writing your favorite detergent company to tell them how great they make your clothes smell… it’s that big a deal here.

I pull and pull and get nothing but a small strap. The buckle is trapped somwehere. I am panicking! I don’t want to die in a toxic orange taxi!

I thought I’d say something, but he was driving like a bat out of hell and the strange crackling and ricketing sounds from the bottom of the car- probably very important parts- were deafening and I’m sure if I would have said something he wouldn’t have cared anyway. I stick my arm in the strap- because that was going to hold me in if something happened!

What a ride.

I do have to say it was our cheapest ride yet.

I wonder why…

So, tomorrow ends our trip. Sigh.

I start my new life Sunday. Sigh.

At least I’ll have a few days to get myself together.

August 30,2005

Last night I could hardly breathe before finally drifting to sleep. I kept waiting for the front desk to call saying there was a disturbance.

I lay there, flat on my back, my eyes wide open, staring at the blank ceiling.

You would have thought I robbed a bank or something and I drove to the nearest warehouse to wait out the search.

Will and I are typically not extremely unruly or overly loud love makers. I guess you could put it this way: we wouldn’t be the ones you’d whisper about at the neighborhood association meetings. I don’t know if it was the fact that for the last 3 1/2 months we have had to play “beat the clock my parents are in the kitchen and can probably hear,” or the fact that it was the last day of vacation andwe were going to have to go back to living with my parents and being sneaky,(I think it was the first factor), but we morphed into different people or something. We weren’t “yelly” or anything, but around midnight the wall against our bed took a beating, leaving our neighbors to pound back on the wall- I’m sure that is a universal “shut up” signal.

I was freaked out that the “Holy Muslim Police” were going to storm our room last night and make Will and I stay in different places. Today it sounds funny and silly, last night I was freaking out!

* * *

So, our trip is over. So sad. I am totally resolved to believe end of vacation attitudes are just as crucial as the start of vacation momentum. We woke up fine and called in b-fast- and I ate way too much. We casually got around and did our room check- 4 times.

“Are you sure you have everything, Britt? We won’t be able to come back if you forget something. Did you check the bathroom?

The table?

The… the.. the..”

He does this a million times because he is convinced I will realize something I forgot- me being the scatterbrained one. The joke was on him today though.

We left the hotel and caught a taxi- much better than last night’s.

I totally cracked up on the way to the airport. They were playing filthy music- with the “F” work as the main noun, verb, adjective and everything in between. Amazing. They won’t show a kissing scene in the public movie theatre, and you can’t wear shorts, but you can say the F bomb all day long. Only in the Middle East. The FCC would have had a heart atatck had that been said in America. How funny.

We got to the airport-the super tiny Doha airport, and grapped a seat to wait to check in.

I thought I was at a college frat party after about 5 minutes. There were 3 older men, clad in togas!! How crazy! Were they being serious? I think they might have been. I didn’t know people still wore togas!

I was waiting any second for 30 fat guys with huge beer bellies to roll in a keg and a funnel, and start taking body shots off the women- all vieled and in their black abbayas. ha ha. What a strange thought.

We had been sitting for a few minutes when my daily birth control alarm went off on my phone (did I way I was scatterbrained? These last 3 months of being “scheduleless” have left me so forgetful that I have to remind myself to breathe). Anyway, all of a sudden Will asks, “Where’s my phone?”

Great.

Mr. Responsible forgot something. Who knows what I’ve left behind. We begin searching. Here is a good rule to live by: if you search for something for longer than 15 minutes- there is a good chance it is not in the spot you are searching.

Then, the “male” in Will comes out and he tries to put it all on the bonde. Ha- I don’t think so!

“I really thought I handed it to you.”

“No, Will. You didn’t.”

“Check your purse again.”

My purse can barely hold tic-tacs- your phone is not there!

We search more and finally Will says “I have to go back.”

I don’t like “I.”

“I” is bad. It refers to one person- not “we.” He is basically telling me, “sit here with the toga guy and make sure our bags are okay while I go back to the hotel to find my phone.”

I was so nervous to be left alone with the ancient frat boys. I thought I was going to have to purchase a bag of Depends. I did just fine, though I did sit next to a pair of 5 year old twins that made me reconsider my entire opinion of children all together.

Will came back , phoneless, so that was a disappointment. I know he was sort of bummed about it because not only was he going to have to hear about it, but he was also going to have to pay for it. I decided not to give him the responsible talk.

We sat around the airport for a while and ate at A&W… and then TCBY… again (we don’t have on herein Kuwait). After that we went to our gate- but I first had to go through a metal detector. I had went through the first one just fine- actually, I set it off and no one said a word! That makes you feel good! I wasn’t joking about no one paying attention!

Anyway, I walked through this time and it went off and the army guy- who didn’t speak english, angrily said, “go.”

Go? Where?

He motioned towards this cold steel door.

“Go.”

Holy crap. What is behind that door!? Are they going to strip search me? I really don’t want to go behind the door . God help us all.

I went in and this old lady frisked me and used a hand held detector- it was my belt. I could have told her that, but she was the “behind the steel door” metal nazi, so I just shut up and let her do her job. I’m glad that is over.

We got to our gate and hung around. We finally were able to board. It is so amazing here. They don’t have terminals since the airport is so small, so they bus everyone out to the plane. You would have thought the people flying with us were told there was an all you can eat buffet on the plane because they were pushing and shoving like not only was there a buffet, but it was also free. It was frustrating but sort of humerous.

After we fought our way to our seats- we breathed a sign of relief. Sort of. We were in the very back of the place and were the only westerners in a 20 seat radius. The plane was hot and it smelled terrible. I had flashbacks to “toxic” and my night in the taxi. It was pretty gross. All Will kept saying was, “This is so ghetto.” He was pretty accurate. thankfully it is a short flight. I wished we would have flew Kuwait Air to Doha and Qatar air on the way back… wishful thinking.

We got in and I got my visa stamped and everything else I had to do. The Gauntlet wasn’t too bad tonight. It was a nice change. I am always expexcting pandemonium so was surprised last night.

We got in to find out a million morsels of crappy news, but I won’t get into everything because it will take way to long and I’ve talked way to much about stupid things that don’t really matter that much! So, that was our trip. you probably feel like you went along you know so much. I guess I overdid it a bit. That shouldn’t be a surprise though.

Thanks for sticking through! Have a great day. <3

Well, I was in the middle of the deepest and most thought provoking post I’ve ever created only to have it wiped away, leaving nothing but one paragraph.

Frustration was the first thought to came to mind, followed by many others.

“Do I want to try to recreate the pouring out of my soul before the entire Nest Community?” I thought about it, and the answer is no. I couldn’t do it justice and it can’t be done twice. How irritating.

So, today you are stuck with low quality crap.

After the thought I had put into the previous post, that is all I have left to share. A huge paragraph of me talking of nothing but crap.

What a trade-off. My sister went to a Kuwaiti optometrist today. I am wondering how it went, because- as much as I dread the idea- I think I’m going to have to pay him a vist. What a goof. Millions of people are terrified of the dentist, or a “real” doctor. Me? I’m scared ot the optometrist. I am so weird.

I hate going to the optometrist because it is so far from an exact science and I, BRITTNY, have the huge burden and pressure of diagnosing myself. That could be compared to Helen Keller becoming a hair stylist. You should all know by now that this is dangerous for any person, especially a doctor, to give me this amount of power. Really, you are doing his (or her) job for him. No pressure Britty- it’s just your eye sight!

I am such a freaking over achiever. I don’t mean to, and don’t realize it, but I TRY to do well when I have an eye exam. I was the annoying kid you always hated in school because I always went the extra mile. Yes, I am a strange. Who does that (trying to succeed on a eye test)!!!?? Seriously. Like I said, I don’t mean to, but I just try to answer the guy’s questions. It’s like the eye SATS or something and I want a good score. What a weirdo.

I’ve probably needed contacts for years and will never know until I am using Lysol for hairspray one day.

Want to hear something even MORE terrible (as if THAT wasn’t weird enough)? Lyna- you’ll love this. I have had no-line bifocals for two years and I still can’t work them the right way. How complicated can they be!!!? It probably doesn’t help that I insisted on the narrowest frame simply because I like the way the looked and they were barely able to fit a no line bifocal on them. I refused to have the old lady line on my glasses, I had to have a no-line, making even more difficult to distinguish the small change in prescription (it’s not a real strong number, so that adds to it). Yeah, because it’s not important to be able to see, it’s all about looking good when you are staring at a computer screen.

I’ve started wearing my glasses a lot more. I don’t know if its because all I do is stare either at a computer screen or a TV all day or simply because of the fact that my eyes are getting weaker, but I don’t want to find out. I really don’t want to have to go to the optometrist. Its really a waste of time for me because the guy will tell me I have eyes like an eagle and I’m good to go. Maybe I should have saved my “Call me Monica Gellar-Bing” post for today- she was a massive perfectionist. She probably had eye doctor issues too.Do you want to know the funniest an most ironic thing about my eye complex? My mom worked for an optometrist for 4 years. How funny.

As for other things… that was in my failed post. So sad. I’m sorry to go on and on about that. I’ll stop. Just a lazy day. Will and I are saving money for our trip, so we just hung around today. I am getting so very excited about our trip and I can’t wait to tell you all about it!

I did some deep soul sharing in the erased post, and here I just did some embarrassing sharing. Oh the things we settle for.

I have to begin today’s post saying mixed nuts are the most frustrating rip off ever.

Yes, I know I begin with quite a random left field thought, but I was thinking that a few minutes ago as I was digging through (yes, I am one of those gross diggers that am up to my elbows searching for the last macadamia) trying to find anything but a peanut.

Peanuts are okay and all, but they are no macadamia, or almond, or even cashew. Pretty frustrating. maybe I’m just buying a bad brand. All I get are peanuts. Yet another dork confirmation. Maybe I have mixed nuts on my mind because I have no healthy eating schedule and seriously need to get a job so I am not 10 feet away from the kitchen!

My legs are like stone today, however, because my sister and I did some new boot camp type exercises that she learned from cheerleading- making me hate all cheer coaches now.

No arresting prostitute excitement to talk about today, which in some sick way was sort of a disappointment. I really need to get out more.

Today was pretty boring, and my “Friday” evening has been just about the same. Will is a zombie come every Wednesday night and literally goes to bed around 7:30. The long days here are tiring, but it gets him ready for the weekend, so that’s good I guess. I am waking him up at 10:00 to check on his draft, and then I’m sure he’ll go back to the cave.

Well ladies, I am still hanging in with this fantasy football stuff! Will has three leagues going, two by himself and one with me. Ours is probably the weakest at this point, but a lot can change and we still have several more rounds to go- this is an exhausting hobby! Each person gets like 12 hours to draft each round, so it is a very long and excruciating process because some may use the full amount of time while everyone else is waiting- it is a one at a time thing so you ahve to wait on those in your league. I’m being confusing. Enough with the football stuff.

We booked the hotel and flight for our trip Saturday. Everything under the sun was booked so we are staying somewhere pricey, but we are just going to enjoy it and remember that in a few weeks I’ll actually have a paycheck and that will replenish our Christmas trip savings.

We had to make certain that there was a business center in the hotel before we booked it so Will can keep up with his draft, so maybe while he is spending some time doing that (with me cluelessy nodding to the random pick for our team), I’ll be able to post about all the fun stuff we’re doing. I am really getting excited about our trip. We are going to have to be frugal, but I still think there will be lots of interesting things to see. I have a book at all the things to see and do, so I think it will be fun.

I do hear that it’s stick to your clothes humid, so that is a bummer. I am already obsessing over the fact that I won’t be able to bring my straignthener because we can’t lug our huge converter with us- this will be bad. Beyond bad nay be the correct term. I will resemble Monica’s Diana Ross’ look when they took their trip for Ross’s convention thing. I’m sure our pictures will be quite humerous.

“Where is Will?”

“Oh, he is behind my huge afro.”

“Oh. Okay, yeah I see him now.”