MEET ME HALFWAY

Wow, what a year. I truly hope your's was as wild as mine...and despite my negative 'tude, I mean that in the best possible way

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

CRACKS ME UP

My boy Shaunie's passport visa photo for entry into China. haha...

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

PILLOW TALK

My boss called me up the other night and asked me if I wanted to write a report on some yacht race happening in Dubai. I get there half an hour late and next thing you know I'm being whipped by a massive entourage through the VIP entrance to a ritzy yacht - I kept all of them from enjoying the first 30 minutes of what followed; mini course after mini course of the kind of food that was clearly hidden from me all my life, that alongside unlimited Moet and Coronitas til sun down (DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THESE? CUTEST THINGS EVER!!!). And you can bet your bottom dollar I grabbed one of those designer SPF lotions fanned out on that silver platter at the entrance. Typical freelancer behaviour.

What my boss failed to mention was that I was covering the Louis Vuitton Trophy and that I was going to get on board one of the vessels to race as the 18th man. Didn't happen, though, due to crappy winds and major race delays. Not that I minded, obviously! But I could've gotten many more flutes down the chute if I wasn't so busy being a professional journalist (and the only one not carrying any LV anywhere on their person) preparing to compete on the high seas - aka painfully sober.

Still, a great day had. Even better, after declining a ride home because no one knew that I had travelled all the way from another Emirate aboard a public bus for two hours to get there, I arrived home to find lovely noises in my kitchen - COOKING! The Fox had a whole feast in the works. AND it was carb free (yeah, this again...). I love him, oh I do, I do! The only problem is he made a big egg breakfast again for me this morning even though it was his first day back to work from vacay (and no carbs in there either) so it means I've got to come up with something extra special in the next few hours.

Oh, to hell with it. I'll let the pillow do the talking.

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

GIMME THAT SALT ALL AROUND THAT RIM

 Hello! I didn't type for a while because I nearly sawed off my left middle finger while feverishly attacking a block of cheese - I started a no carb thing a couple days a week so...it was bound to happen sooner or later. Anyway, isn't that just a fucking awesome album cover? No shame in saying it...the skankiness of her, the wigs, the dirty mouth, her rhymes, the Barbie fascination....the fact that she is ALSO from Trinidad....it all just makes my labia tingle lol.


Disgusting, isn't it? Yet I would wed and bed this girl in a heartbeat (or bed then wed her, doesn't matter...). Throw in the new Kelis (who I'm seeing live tonight) and some Kesh (also Trinidadian) and I'm set for life.

In fact, I would love to sit in on some Young Money meetings (I don't listen to rap regularly but I am highly impressed with this crew, namely Nicki, Drake and Lil Wayne. Young Money is to the world of Hip Hop what Jack Kerouac is to Fiction, and I just hope they can keep it going, even while in prison.

Oy vey...straying very far away from my metal/punk/electro home...

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

HOLED UP IN HERE

http://whatcourtneyworetoday.com/

REALLY!
Pretty random of her, but then again, it's Courtney Love.

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

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.



IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

SILENT TREATMENT

I don't have blue hair anymore.
I don't have listerine anymore either. haha...
I'm bad, but not that bad.
FUN FACT: my dad's a pilot and he can get stopped from flying if he so much as gargled too much of that shit. He's all picking fights with my mum these days about shopping for the alcohol-free kind).

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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.

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I LOVE IT WHEN YOU CALL

Unfortunately, I wake up at ungodly weekend hours now so here's what I've just done. No bloggers have ever tagged me in that 'What's in Your Bag?' thingie so I thought I'd take the liberty of tagging myself this morning because

a) I was frantically searching for something anyway so my bag's contents were already littering the hotel room

b) I didn't find that something, which was a USB stick containing some new 'fashion' photos I took for the blog

c) I thought it would make for interesting insight in a few years time as to what my life was like via the contents of my bag

d) It would show that I don't really give a fuck that I was left out of a fun blogosphere ritual and that I'm shameless enough to do it on my own

So here goes...

WHAT'S IN MY BAG, MINUS THE BAG (I'll do bags later)

1. Two sets of headphones, one regular external noise cancelling pair, one water/sweat proof pair for the gym. I keep it on me at all times these days because I've stupidly started training for a half marathon with my co-workers and we got a good corporate deal for the gym down the street from where we work.

2. (At this stage) a VERY old school 30GB iPod, still going strong

Currently listening to: Deep Purple - Mandrake Root

Get on it.

3. Hand sanitizer. For someone who spontaneously asks her boyfriend to come lie in the spit/shit/piss ridden grass with her and who has no problem abiding by the three second rule and drinking water from the tap, I feel kind of silly carrying this, but I mean, you gotta keep SOMEthing clean, I guess. Do you carry it? Just curious...

4. Planner. I love planning.

5. One of many circular sixties sunnies.

6. A painfully old Motorola phone. In the last 5 months, I have either lost or had stolen three mobile phones. Touch screens, cute bumble bee coloured Blackberry-esque Samsungs, all sorts...in taxis, on highways, in bars...hence a re-connection with this trooper I used in the UK. The battery only lasts about halfway through one 10 minute conversation, mind you, but hey, text messaging is still a handy way to keep in touch, right?

7. Digital dictaphone - a journalist's best and worst companion

8. Office building access card

9. Travel-sized bottle of CK Summer - I love the CK Summer scents so a while back I picked up a travel-sized collection of the last few released. Speaking of perfumes though, I kinda dig Thierry Mugler's 'Alien', but I never quite imagined myself wearing a scent called 'Alien'? Ah, fuck it.

10. (underneath bottle) those nose blotcher thingies for greasy-faced people. Thank you, daddy, for such a gifted T-zone!

11. Wallet containing 500 borrowed dirhams, a silly library card-esque laminated Trinidadian driver's license, a new Emirates Identity Card so no bouncers will laugh at my library card license anymore, a newly activated bank card (had mine stolen recently), an expired HSBC card (guys, obviously, you're fired so stop sending me mail), Waterstone's card, business cards, photos of exes it's probably time I stashed elsewhere, Chinese, American and Filipino dollars (interesting...a combination of my ex's origins), and a loyalty card for the Pinkberry of Abu Dhabi  known as Yogoday (HEY, THEY DO TAKEOUT NOW!)

12. Two sets of house keys - mine for my new studio, the other for my parent's place becuse my dad's convinced I'll be back soon. Works wonders when they're out of town though.

13. Cup'O'Soup and green tea, just in case I feel faintish during fasting, although my stomach pretty much calls it a day from noon after realising that furiously grumbling has been getting it nowhere.

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

IF YOU ASK ME, IM READY TO DO THE UNTHINKABLE

...LATEST ACHIEVEMENTS...

bag: H&M

Wang/Farrow wannabes: Forever 21

Seriously more amazing on my feet and in person caged heels (already scoffed from thrice weekly wearage) : New Look (I KNOW!)

I'm well aware that it's more effective to wear my pieces for you rather than snap them on the floor in front of heaps of clothing, but confidence is at an all time low right now as I've reached the 'Interfuckingmission' on the Woodstock: The Director's Cut DVD, which is brimming with the most beautiful long-limbed lifeforms I've ever seen since Avatar in 3D (and these guys are real!), not to mention I had to review a highrollers-and-their-hoes private beach club this weekend rightly named Plastik - I've never been so painfully aware of myself. I swear, even if I wanted to stay longer than the tragic hour that I did spent smoking menthols and pretending to enjoy the sunset, I probably wouldn't have made it out of there alive what with all those dangerously hard nipples threatening to gouge my ever-swivelling eye out. Another thing that doesn't help my case much is the fact that I've chosen to date an Arabic Adonis. But I won't even bother getting started on that guy right now. Enough of him was had last night for me to refrain from mentioning him for the rest of the week. I'll try my bestest.

This week's honourable mentions:

truffle pasta from Jones the Grocer, re-introducing myself to my septum piercing, THAT apartment, astrologyzone.com, 'Strange Fruit' by Siouxsie and the Banshees, working wet hair, legalizing my employment, getting beaten and beating back HARD at Muay Thai, my new 'army' jacket, malteser's, 1.5 litres of water a day, meditation via candlelight, plastic recycling, telling people what I really want

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.

YOU CAN NEVER BE SURE WHO YOU'RE GONNA END UP NEXT TO

Hi.
I had a shockingly good Christmas.
I smell of Virginia Slims and boy.
Also, in the morning...

...I made feeble attempts to test this shit out. I'm gonna let it tangle and rot and hopefully I'll soon have one very cute dreadlock. I've been very inspired by neon, braiding, and fictional tribal existences like Pandora in the movie Avatar, so my 2010 style is coming together to that effect...with the ever present black, leather, sheer and drapey bits, but also with more epaulets and S&M. Approach if you dare and I'll probably shoot you then lick the gun.

Anyway I'm going to start collecting daggers like I always wanted to as a child. I'll probably also try to learn Arabic, lose more weight, stick to this no-carb thing as long as possible, get a job at a magazine, find great guilt-free sex, start working on my two business projects and be very very smoking fucking hot. New Year's Resolutions, anyone?

Oh, and to make up for the last post, these two songs are seriously stuck:

Seriously...no one can touch Juliette!

I DON'T WANNA BE FRIENDS

Dear Dirty Reader,
I hate to do this to you...really...

...but it just won't. Fucking. Budge. And. I've. Been. Stomping. Around. My. House. Zombie. Style. And. Nonsense. Ga-ga-lore...

...she should hire sexy submissives (a la Gwen's Harajuku Girls)...stripper slaves...yeah...(oh, pick me, pretty please).

SHAKE APPEAL

I don't fucking know why this always happens to my 14 year old sister (and I wish she would stop!) but before getting a knock on the door yesterday afternoon (2 hours before showtime), my sister was pining over the fact that she didn't get a ticket for The Killers playing at Emirates Palace last night. Yet all she had to do was be home to answer that door because when she did, it was the demure Filipina living opposite us giving away a free ticket they received and didn't plan to use. THEN when she got there and had the best time (she described the show as 'Coldplay amazing'), her friend dropped 2 tickets to this in her lap, which my brother and I were about to buy tickets for the very next day. So now, we're spending the day busting our asses to buy her a ticket out of gratitude. I'm also working from home today (doing a week's worth of freelance work with a new mag here in the UAE), so I thought I would take a minute to post something (or re-post something I wrote and LOVED for Bitching and Junkfood...and which I think matches well with the rave-type event I'll be attending this weekend, thanks to my hooked up sis.


...that being THE MOTHERFUCKING HAIR in this Testino shoot for November's UK Vogue! I'm on it.

And for those who asked, my grandmother isn't getting better (and she won't) but she is still alive and coping. Thanks for your concern.

A TOPSY TURVY STATE OF AFFAIRS

I personally think Christmas is so boring/dramatic/sad, so we try to mix shit up a little bit every year (if not with my drinking).


My brother and father so far remain the only persons terrified, whereas everyone else who drops by is excitedly running back to their cars to grab their cameras (not to mention, I've been getting numerous requests for "exclusive" photos on this). Maybe we should hang upside down crucifixes and/or weapons from it like these.

WHERE IN THE WORLD IS CARMEN SANDIEGO?

These T. Anthony Ltd. pieces make me want to hop on a flight pronto! (but it has to be in business or first...). Carmen Sandiego comes to mind.

[A show of hands if you remember her! YEAH! (should've been her for Halloween)]

Speaking of travel, when I was over in LA, a letter came there in the mail addressed to both Panda and I. It was an invitation to our friend's wedding in the Philippines in February. So, we're dates...which, might I remind you, as of 2 days ago, we are no longer together (we had even planned to celebrate Valentine's Day there together). So it's all pretty icky at this stage but I've already made up my mind to still pursue this. After all, it isn't about us; it's about our friends getting married. Also, as I turn 21 in January (lol Harry, fuck you in advance for saying 'oh yeah, I forgot, you're a baby'), I'm going to make a mini self-discovery vacation out of it; one which Filipino Panda probably thinks is my way of saying I'm planning to 'get my groove back' with a new Filipino titled after another animal. I assure you, that is not the case. Panda and I are probably just going to end up rebounding each other, anyways. Then more goodbyes and tears.

RANT ALERT! RANT ALERT! RANT ALERT!

RIGHT! SORRY! BACK TO MY BIRTHDAY! Well, I hear the Philippines is the place to get your procedures done so I'm getting breasts.

Lies. I'm going to clean and bleach my teeth, is all. I think great teeth really transform a person's face. And perfect eyebrows. So, as your girl's eyebrows are thoroughly threaded to perfection every month and a half, teeth come next. The rest, I'll just yoga-fy my way out of. I believe my mother wants to come along and get something done herself but I shouldn't be telling you that. And she probably won't.

After that, Mistress Ivy and I were doing a bit of talking and we're thinking Burning Man/San Francisco/South East Asia next summer. But of course, that is because I expect to be jobless still by then (that would be nice, and not).

And yes, to all those wondering what happened to London this month, that's still in the works. Hold tight...and clear a space on your living room floor.

FEELING THE NEED TO ASSURE YOU WE'RE ALL QUITE SANE

Dear Shaun White...
I want your hair.
I want your canines.
I want you too.
Um, why?

-------------------

In case you were worried more than usual over this, I am up to sane things too. I am thinking of taking up surfing, conversational arabic and pro tennis and beach volleyball (I can't think of any other sport that rewards you with a more perfect body). I will also be blogging for the home girls over at Bitching and Junkfood (stay tuned) and I am working on my fiction again because I was shortlisted for this university competition to meet one on one with an agent in London and have them consult my work (fingers crossed because that means an instant ticket to London next month courtesy dad if I win this). 'Tis all. Carry on.