LINE IN THE SAND

 That's why I haven't been writing.

Guns 'n' Roses tonight, Slackline Yoga tomorrow, Motocross Saturday and Fencing on Sunday.

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

HOLD ME LIKE A GUN

Sorry I've been such a shitty blog parent but this last week has kept me pretty busy.

Anyway, do you like my shoes?

Only 40 dirhams from New Look. Yeah, that's like 6 pounds/10 dollars. I went ape shit there on shoes the other weekend, bought like 6 pairs. I don't know why I am always surprised at how good their collection is. It was never that great in the UK when I lived there, and now I barely shop anywhere else for footwear. Good for them.

In other news...

THIS DREAM is for sale in my neighbourhood. I want it so bad, but I don't have the local license and oh yeah, I don't have 50,000 dirhams. The local guy who owns it saw The Fox and I peering inside of it late one night and just gushing like mad and pulled up in his shiny white Mercedes G Class Off-Roader and explained that it was THE car for his crew, B2B (Between Two Bridges, the English name for the neighbourhood he and I both live in). He's really keen to get rid of it for nearly any price, it seems, which is a bit shady so it's probably a blessing that I can't afford it...

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HOW DO I LOOK?

Just two poor people enjoying each other's company on a kitchen floor.

Last thing you ate: tuna salad

Last thing you drank: half a can of day old totally fizzed out coke sitting on my dresser when I woke up. My cola addiction is definitely back.

Last thing you watched: One of the Abu Dhabi Film Festival documentaries: Tears of Gaza, a disturbingly candid look at the situation out there...The Fox is Palestinian so we made a date to catch it.

Last thing you bought: an egg sandwich at 3 in the morning from a little Arab pit stop post the Abu Dhabi Fighting Championship after party.

Last thing you returned: Readers, I've come to that point in my life where there is no longer anything to return. However, there are loads to swap! So I'm sooo glad I launched this funky swap social event business. It's in perfect timing with my new poverty-stricken situation. The last clothing swap was just yesterday, actually, and I managed to nab a few tops and a delicate teardrop anklet. Not as killer a collection as the last one where I walked away with a killer cut blazer, battered black skinnies, and more. But it can only get better.

Last thing you dreamt of: playing basketball with my family, my ex and his new girlfriend...
Last thing you wrote: a piece on some real Bear Grylls people preparing to cross the desert, climb the emirate's highest peak, kayak it's surrounding waters and cross the finish line in no more than 6 days to win some fat cash. Good for them.

Last thing you laughed at: The unfortunate people The Fox and I had to mingle with at the fighting championship after party, they being cleavage popping teachers in droves shotting tequila and dancing with their shoes off while waiting to see buffed up tatted up fighters fresh from the ring and dotted with bandages. The male population? Off their face Arab gym buffs hoping to be mistaken for pro-fighters by the female population.

Last thing you read: Oddly, I've been reading the bible to The Fox and we've been stopping to make notes and compare religions. And we've been doing this while drinking vodka cranberries. Is this wrong? I just think it's such a great story...well, once you get past all those repetitive sections on the many offspring being produced and the generations dying out.

Last thing you felt proud about: another successful swap event, I guess. We're slowly building up a fanbase - as well as some cash - and this great girl from a local mag called me up the other day to propose a feature interview. An interesting sidenote: they're the rival mag of the one I used to work for only a month ago.

Last thing you considered: a very gutsy hair chopping spree...

Last thing you saw that you wanted: the biggest glass of red wine

Last thing you stole: a cigarette off af a guy at mentioned after party, which I took back to my poor, cigarette deprived fox. We're so broke. And so bored.

Last thing you realised: that I'm about to start training for my first real amateur muay thai fight, and that I can't back out of it now because my editor loves the idea of me keeping a fight diary. My aim is to be in the ring for my 22nd birthday in January. Would you pay good money to see that? Cause I could use some.



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A GOTHIC ROMANCE

Call it a poor girl's mental block but I've seen this scent just about everywhere before, heard everyone's gushes, even thought the name - Black Orchid - sounded exactly like something that I should be smelling like for the rest of my very dark life, but never bothered to test it out until last night at the mall. And only because I was smelling a tad sweaty from hopping buses all day and about to sit in a darkened theatre with several other people. The Fox - who is taking a shot at courting me once more - and I went on a date and ended up finding our perfect scents - and I presume - each other's perfect christmas gifts, before catching the 8.15 showing of The Devil (yeah, I dunno). His would be Bleu de Chanel and mine would be aformentioned heady otherwordliness. Funny thing is it also smells just like this eggnog-y type drink we guzzle at Christmas time in Trinidad, but made for your neck! I can't quite nail it in writing so just go sniff for yourself next time you hit up the department stores.  

3 things I'm stoked about right now:

Tackling Adrien Brody on the red carpet when he comes here for the gala screening of his latest film 'Wrecked'. The Abu Dhabi Film Festival hits the capital this weekend, baby!

My next swap social happening next week! Business is booming! More later.

Modeling in early November for students at a photography workshop. Save for a few Kill City shots taken by Panda back in the day (and a shoot done two days ago to promote my next swap social), I don't - and am certainly no - model, but I'm thinking why the fuck not? From what it looks like, I'm on a mission to be as out of my element as possible for the rest of 2010 (I just competed in Abu Dhabi's Dragonboat Races, got picked up on by some male high school biology students I was giving an exam to, started a business overnight, and literally just got asked to train with the country's national triathlon team...). So modeling? Piece o cake.

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I NEVER WISHED TO BE SAVED

Oh yeah.

And you should've been there at the salon for the revolted looks from Arab women thinking 'but what dashing young man is hoping to sweep a rapidly aging young woman off her feet? Poor her. She has no idea.'

I stuck out my tongue at one thinking 'poor them!'

I did the whole navy blue tra-la-la just over a month ago - pic when I can be bothered.

Note the striped nails to match. Purely unintentional.

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER HOTEL

I may be on the verge of taking advantage of everyone's Ramadan inspired goodness by begging on the streets but I haven't had much to complain about recently, it seems. Take last weekend, for example, on a private island not so far, far away...

...completely secluded stretches of pristine beach, your own villa with private splash pool and amazing claw food tub, et al. They weren't so keen on letting me off scot free with this review, though, which is why I had to pinch a few bills off mother dearest yesterday. I think the tub (and being greeted in the morning by dozens of elegantly grazing gazelles) was worth it though.

This weekend, I am here.

doing fuck-all...

Business chain, heart of dirty down town, kiddie-sized pool, so-so food...

But pretty nice rooms, gorgeous city views, free wireless...

and my favourite type of lighting!

Anyway, I am off to enjoy my room serviced suhour (the later than late late night snack Muslims indulge in before fasting at sunrise - yes, I am fasting this Ramadan. It's going really well, in case you were interested).

RAMADAN KAREEM!

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

I'M GONNA TAKE YOU FOR WORSE OR BETTER

I have to admit, I'm back on this thing a lot sooner than I had expected, but this really great girl emailed me last week with the sweetest words about my blog, and she made me realise that there are still people out there reading and enjoying my bullshit, and I really shouldn't deny them that. Especially not now when I'm about to do tons more craziness.

Like fasting and training for a marathon in the same month. For one. It's just nearing Ramadan time in the UAE and I have decided that I will fast this year. Properly. Last year when I did it, I didn't have a job so it was more a matter of partying all night, sleeping all day then waking up just in time to start eating again around 6-ish. But this time, I have a full time job...a little more than full time since being a journalist often involves many unfortunately very attractive after work engagements...and this time, my office building isn't cutting us fasters any slack. I will be at work surrounded by British expats chowing on beans, eggs and toast in the morning and tuna ciabattas at lunch while trying hard not to swallow my saliva or faint in between typing a really witty paragraph. No food or drink between the hours of 6am and 6pm. No sex...in all its forms (which should be interesting since I now live with my constantly erect Palestinian boyfriend and being off the pill has sparked a similar situation in my loins). And a LOT less booze (sorry, I'm an alcoholic).

I am also pretty big on Muay Thai these days (especially on a Friday morning as punishment for unruly drinking habits the night before) and am about to be honoured with those special fringed shorts the fighters wear, but with a cobra smack on the crotch area to represent the club I roll with. YEAH! So excited about that. 

AND I found a sick tattoo artist in Sharjah that my MT teacher is going to take me to see for my next piece (in case you're wondering why I'm so excited about a fucking tattoo artist, tattoo and piercing parlours are sort of illegal in the UAE and sort of don't exist - it's so bad, I can stop traffic if I leave the house in my bullring).

And it's true what they say about Indians - they know how to make money out of anything and are total businessmen. I'm now rolling with this new girl at work that I'm going to call The Mogul. She has a passion for fashion and money making and despite the way I used to feel about working with other people (pretty much 'NO'), she really gets my ass in gear and things are getting done just BECAUSE someone else is involved. So, although a little distracted from our real work in the office from time to time, we work really well together and we might see this "thing" launch soon. But I won't say anything else just yet. 

So back to that sweet girl who wrote to me...except I have to retrace my steps a little to tell this story right. 

I've been seeing this reiki practitioner some weeks to get my colours cleaned and my body healed and all that (don't ask). And during my last session, he told me that he had a vision of an owl while he was working on me and that I should be aware of them if I see any in the near future. He said the owl was a sign of protection. And I thanked him and left. The following day was when this girl wrote to me. She told me she had just launched her clothing line and I checked it out...and it's pretty cool...Owl prints and all...

"The Owl print was the first made specifically for women, I won’t bore you with the symbolism of the owl at the end of the day it’s a kick arse pattern for kick arse girls. Being black and white it’s great for mix and match and the t-shirts look good tuck in or out, take it and make it your own.
Made from naturally sustainable bamboo a resource that is being used increasingly in the world of fashion. The material itself is light, near translucent and softer than cotton, it’s cool in summer, warm in the winter and feels almost as if you’re wearing liquid gold. If I had my way I’d wrap the world in it.
Its machine washable and suitable for use all year long, save the world one t-shirt at a time!
Blend 70% Bamboo 30% Organic Cotton"

And I just love these other two

 ...couldn't hurt to buy a couple tshirts, right?

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EASTERN GLOW

This is where I work. Beautiful, isn't it?

One thing I seriously adore about this city is that there is nowhere you can't lay your weary bones and just appreciate life without people thinking you're a dork and/or a sick gazer. The working class just roll out a scrap of sheet and picnic on the side of the road with friends (no space at home) and the muslims just roll out their prayer mats wherever and whenever they please to keep Allah posted. And when I say wherever and whenever, I mean like stopping their cars at the side of the road during rush hour and genuflecting. Why not? I fucking love that. Just came back from watching an open air movie with The Fox (yes, we're on attempt number 3 and 5 months in), and on our way home I made him lie wth me on the grass at the side of the road. Even though he said 'you know, people spit here. Anyway, I know you'll shower after this' then looked at his watch after I brushed him off with a smile, the five minutes spent gazing up at the glistening facade of my towering building (there weren't any stars to speak of, or look at) made him realise the beauty in my spit and grass madness, and maybe something bigger. He just got home and sent me a text message saying:

'I'm having such a wonderful time with you. You're making my life happier. Thanks for a lovely evening. I love you'

For the record, I'm not showering.


IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

GOD IS NOT THE ONLY ONE WATCHING

...and that's how it's done. THAT'S how you live.

 And OF COURSE the owner of a place like this is named Cindy Gallop. What else would she be called, yuh know? Extra Fucking Credit.

I can't stress how much this place is blowing. my. mind. So glad I found it right on the cusp of renting my first apartment in Abu Dhabi and am thoroughly re-inspired. Speaking of my potential new home...dear readers, I am terrified. It's perfect. And I promise after today to never gush over it ever again until I am moving in because I'm afraid to jinx it. It's the cheapest and biggest studio I've seen in town so far. It's brand spanking new, includes water and electricity, has a huge window, HUGE white rooftop (say hello to better outfit of the day photos), 24 hour fitness centre with sauna, parking spot, 10 mins away from where I work and smack opposite some of my favourite hangouts (can already see myself rolling home at 4am). What's the catch? I'll have to pay a year's rent up front plus deposit and agency fees. So my mum and I are scraping up some serious cash right now, and this is exactly why even though I have a pretty badass fulltime job with matching salary (which I just received), I ate cup noodles for lunch today and will be serving drinks on my friend's boat this weekend for a measly 50 dirhams an hour. I can't remember if I told you about this friend - The English Russian? - He lives on a boat, has a diamond drilled into one of his canines and likes BDSM. He also offered to lend me some of the money. I politely refused though...

YEAH, I FIGURED OUT HOW TO MAKE MY PICTURES BIGGER. DADDY LIKEY!

[photos from The Selby]

LISTENING TO YOU, I GET THE MUSIC

I just worked 14 hours, and then when it was time for dinner, I worked again as I had to review the restaurant. But ending off a day like this by watching Woodstock: The Director's Cut, the sexy people that walked the face of that period (including fringe jacketed Roger Daltry) and hearing this song (with the help of a little alcohol) makes me not mind facing it all again tomorrow. I think the Woodstock DVD should be a prerequisite to any work day. And alcohol.

But speaking of Woodstock (and let me take a convenient moment to wish you happy 4/20), something like (and unlike) the modern day equivalent will be hitting my shores this weekend and I plan to get thoroughly wet and wild for Damian Marley on the Saturday. And that is all.

HALF OF THE TIME WE'RE GONE BUT WE DON'T KNOW WHERE

This is a big one...(oh, and I actually wrote it today, the 16th, rather than the 11th but it was a draft from before...not that it matters)

Ah, yes, April, the month of fools. This is a picture of what I thought was probably the last smile of mine for April as hours later reality punched me in the face. I scattered my salary across Dubai Mall like the ashes of someone you thought couldn't die fast enough into the Atlantic Sea. Kiddos, my wallet is so badly bruised that the office was in shock yesterday to see me join them in the kitchen with a cup of noodles that I pulled from my new office drawer stash - 'you finally caught on; life in Abu Dhabi is deceptively expensive. Welcome!' Hey, well at least I make broke look good with my caged stilettos, studded Zara jacket, H&M skinnies with leather knees and shameless copy of the Wang/Farrow sunglasses; cuppa noodles never looked this sexy.

To put salt on the rim and a lemon wedge on top of that, The Fox and I have been apartment hunting - yes, I know; it's way too soon. We should at least have a pregnancy scare first haha. But what can I say? For me, 2010 is all about going with my gut feeling. In fact, we visited one seriously perfect candidate last night and I have to say, it literally hurts my heart the way they go about leasing these things here. You're expected to pay the full year up front. I imagine that right now you're grabbing your pockets and wincing the way guys tense up and pass a hand near their crotch when something really bad happens to a character's penis in a movie. Maybe, since this blog is starting to gain a lot more interest, I should get you guys to sign a petition for me to get it down to at least 4 payments a year. Seal that with a kiss, et voila. I'm adorable enough to get away with it, right? We'll see; because the way I've sort of quietly nudged this topic into family dinner conversation, the parental unit is not at all pleased and I may have to take matters into my own hands.

Also, since I can't own a Mercedes G-Class Off-roader (although technically I can own anything I say I can, says my hypnotherapist) another thing I could see myself spending a small fortune on this year is a Jeep Wrangler Sport in Rescue Green, which for some reason has been conveniently presenting itself all over town these last couple weeks. I hailed one once like a cab just to see if my mind was powerful enough yet that it would stop, eject its passenger, ever so slightly recline the seat to suit and start playing Empire of the Sun. But no, not yet; my mind still has a long way to go.

No more weekly quirky nail colour applications from my lovely Filipino gal pals next door.

As if I didn't feel milked already, I now have an udder on my head; a souvenir from my brother who just made his first trip to Turkey. He's very pleased with himself too. He's going away to college soon in Canada and I felt that if I bought him an iPod nano (he's never owned an MP3 Player and we've already hit 2010) that I would get something really great back in return for my selfless act. I got udders. But I jest; I didn't expect anything major back from him; from the forces that be, maybe. Ever since I started doing hypnotherapy, I've realised something very simple about the world and the energy we share in it. Think of a revolving clothesline with clean and dirty laundry on it. The more clean clothes I put out on it to dry, the more dry, clean clothes than dirty should come back around on it to me. And if dirty laundry is coming round the bend, I don't have to pick it up; it's my choice what I decide to gather and put out. I think that's the best way to describe it.

I could probably call my life right now by the same title but no unfair moment lasts forever. Unfair is a new magazine in Abu Dhabi that's actually based in Paris, and I was thinking of sending over my CV just for the hell of it, as it's fashion and all and at the moment I write about everything from the best nurseries in the city to where you can sample camel pizza. Don't get me wrong, I love my job to bits and pieces but it would be nice to get that one step closer to the perfect scenario; and as you're probably aware, perfect scenario for me means making a living writing while being comfortably seated at one of the best tables in fashion heaven. So instead of seeking outside help to achieve this, I threw some freshly washed linens onto the clothesline. I proposed a fashion section to my editorial team and it looks like...*cue Travis Barker on the drums*...I am now head of fashion at our magazine! So much to do to prepare! So much to wear and to see worn!

What's more is I am supposed to be throwing my first sale event next month - as frequent readers may already know, I've been investing a little money into rounding up some unique and cute pieces I find on my travels (and in obscure shops around town) for my own mini business and it's been going really well. But as the deadline draws nearer, I don't think I've gathered enough for a full wine and cheese event so I may just do some wardrobe spring cleaning and sell a few items secondhand as well. A studio apartment simply won't be able to hold all this clothes anyway.


And then here's me in a magazine itself! Kind of beyond embarassing but it's funny because in the photo we can see my new Samsung Corby mobile phone which was stolen that very same day on my way home from work (I'm pretty sure this was in April too). I bought it 6 days before that. Now because my hypnotherapist has been diligently implanting positive thoughts into my mind as I sit in the deepest darkest depths of it in search of The Uber Kara, prior to sessions I would've said 'FUCK MY LIFE' or sung 'More Money, More Problems' then holed up in my room with a bottle from my parent's cabinet and put myself to sleep to some Doom Metal. But I don't believe in saying things like this anymore because believe me, it really is mind over matter and so far, despite all this, somehow my life has been going amazingly.


So what's on the agenda for today? I've already foolishly decided against Muay Thai this morning and my body (which has been very keen to become Lady Gaga's recently) is not pleased for the break in the slightest, so up next (if The Fox will take my calls) is some big beach party on another island just off Abu Dhabi. My friend the English Russian lives on a boat and so he might be taking a couple of folks over, feeding us, boozing us up and entertaining us with silly BDSM jokes first though, which the party promoters aren't! I know; I've already given myself a pat on the back for choosing the right friends!

MUSING IS AMUSING

Found this on a party website just now and thought you'd find it amusing...mildly. This is way back in January when the Fox and I had realised that we nearly share the same birthday so we made a pact to party for the entire month to celebrate..and that's how we realised we kinda should just cut the shit and date each other (partying with someone for a whole month straight is actually a cool way to get to know them, provided that you retain the memories). On this particular night we decided to borrow his brother's dirty jeep and drive to another emirate (state) to party (well...hardly, as Dubai is like 1.5 hours away but still...). Booked a hotel and went to the beach the next morning. As vomit-inducing as our matching gear is, it wasn't planned in the slightest. And for the record, he dresses a lot better now. And I know, he is so not my type (but isn't that how it always goes?).

This is my type:

a flaming haired snowboarding olympian wearing American flag jeans and posing like a tard for Rolling Stone (and who sadly is the spitting image of a French guy I fell in love with after we holed up in bed for 2 days straight - in the non-sexual Yoko-John sense - then never saw again). Yes, Shaun White is my man. Even though he ignored my congratulatory note on Twitter the other day, like the chai lattes at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf (who I just discovered is in my office building - one of only 2 branches in this city), I can't get enough of him. What's more is I'm sure I could've easily caught him raiding the racks of the Kill City store on Melrose when I was in LA last summer because apparently he's a big fan. WHICH MEANSSSS Shaun White and I have something in common! We love KC gear and we both get free shit from them. HAHA! Could a day when we compare, admire and then rip our KC gear off each other and do unmentionably explicit things be approaching in the not too distant future? Stay tuned.

P.S.: How is my blogging? Call 666-FUCKYEAH to comment.