Hello! I'm pissed at BLOGGER.....again.

Hi. It's me. You probably thought I dropped off a cliff, didn't YOU?

Well I didn't. Blogger was being a sh*thead, is what.

I posted a lovely DOUBLE POST MIND YOU DAMMIT yesterday for St. Patrick's Day, me being Irish and all that, and BLOGGER WOULDN'T let me POST, the asswipes. Gee, can you tell I'm a little bit perturbed by that? Yeah, I thought you could.

I have to wish all my friends, and most especially my readers of Irish extraction (or those that are purely) Irish a very happy and belated St. Patrick's Day.

May the luck (not mine tho, cause is sucks) of the Irish be with you. May the wind always be at your back. May you find a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow, and if you do so? May you share some of your shiny windfall with your friend and fav-o'rite blogger, Scarlett Cyn!

My Irish eyes are smiling..... at YOU! KISS ME, I'M IRISH!!!!!!!! *puckers*

Anyway, I had also attemped to post about a funny happening at work yesterday, since it was one of those "I'M SO BLOGGING THIS!!!!!" moments.

I'm sit at my desk minding my own business when my office phone rings. Fine. I answer. The male voice on the other end asks for me. "Speaking, how may I help you?" I reply.

The guy begins by telling me that he was in visiting the Corporrate Banking Manager (who's office is about 20 ft from me) the other day and met me and do I remember him? He is a friend of T (the Mgr) Kept mentioning the name of T. Now please remember, I work in a bank, but not the retail part, I work for the CEO of a bank, dammit. Anyway.... I said "How can I help you?" and ... here's your blow-by-blow:

Caller: "Well I was wondering, what I should do this weekend"
Me: ---??----um? this weekend?"
Caller: yes. do you havve any idea?
Me: "Oh, are you here in Bahrain for the weekend then?" (not getting it at this point, obviously and still being all helpful and professional, although still damn confused)
Caller: "No. I live here."
Me: ----??!!-----uh......
Caller: "So what do YOU usually do on the weekend Cynthia?"
Me: (suspicion slowly creeping in to mby brain) Spend. Time. With. My. Family."
Caller: "Oh, so then you don't really go out on the weekend then? You don't have any suggestions for me"
Me: "Other than with my family, um, no"
Caller: "That's a shame. So, you won't go out this weekend then.. not with anyone..."

He went on for a while yet By this time, you probably realize that he was hitting on me. Yeah, A client of the bank was asking me out over the weekend. I went from being dumb to playing dumb. It was all rather.. awkward. And I was in shock. I mean he IS a client. He finally ended by saying "Then, I guess I can't see you until my appointment next week then. Take care Cyn. See you next week". Me: "Uh, huh.....".

I hung up the phone staring at the phone unit with my mouth gaping open and my eyes HUGE in shock... kinda how I would look if JAWS was coming at me.

A bank client was hitting on me.

Funny huh? Perv. That kind of blast's Z's theory out of the water, huh? I told him to see what he would say.... and he said "You're kidding? Huh. Well, it's your fault you didn't tell him you're married." (He doesn't think men are attracted to non-skinny girls. I'm not skinny by a longshot-heh-, but it's more voluptous and balanced quite nicely. Just cause HE doesn't like it, he thinks No one does. UGh!") Funny, I would swear I can hear Carrie Jo's hissyfit all the way over here on the other side of the planet.

My response to the DOH! remark of the week? "If he couldn't see this fat diamond wedding ring on my finger under all those halogen spotlights above my desk that make it blinding, it's not my fault! And what makes you think me being married would change ANYTHING? Some men find that more attractive. No strings. No expectations."

He just doesn't get it. And if he keeps up this line of thinking, he wont be getting anything else either!

PS: Can I throw out a little question? Am I being bitchy to be irritated in the extreme of his intense and obesessive intrest in his Niece's infertilty treatment cycle the past week or two? He knows DAY BY DAY what she's doing, injection amounts, no of follicles and size, and even went all over town with her hunting medicine AND went to the doctor with her.

I honestly would have said when he was remarking today "Do you think it worked? They had to do it like rabbits yesterday and today." I came very close and only just stopped myself from saying "I don't give a flying f*ck, actually." But I controlled myself. It would have started a huge arguement, and while it is probably needed, due to his complete lack of interest and support in our OWN trials last year, I honestly just am too exhausted at the moment.


I Think I Can, I Think I Can! I Think I Can, I Think I Can........

Sometimes I amaze myself.

There have been times in my life when I am completely and totally overwhelmed when I find myself thinking I have perhaps or DEFINTELY YOU SILLY BITCH taken on more than I can chew and find myself drowning in the project that I find myself thinking "I don't know if I can do this!" But I am continually amazed how I somehow manage to finish what I've given myself up for, regardless of how much it takes out of me to do so.

I feel a certain sense of pride to have accomplished something that even I doubted I could manage to come through on and complete, even if only for the barest minute or 5 of a mild panic attack

I had one of those times today.. again. At work. I was honestly All OVER THE PLACE and stretched oh so thin and wondering how in God's name a color printer that cost about US$9,000 can't print any faster than the snails pace it does. And also a pet peeve of mine with network printers?

When you click print, like a normal person, and have to make sure that proper letterhead is in, blah blah blah and you realize that some joker-usually your own boss- has hit print without your knowledge and there, my friend, goes your letterhead you just put in. So you have to reprint again. But AGAIN with the other person hitting the print button after you mentioned very clearly that you were GOING TO PRINT DAMMIT. repeat 4 times.

Last minute I had to send 6 proposals to the Board of Directors. Hmmmm. Nice, excecpt that my boss was travelling this afternoon , the stuff had to go with his signature and that after he signed? He took another look and started WRITING ON IT, which means that you have to REPRINT THE DAMN THING on said snail speed color printer AFTER YOU MAKE CHANGES but then he decides, once it's all reprinted mind you, that he liked the ORIGINAL ONE better that I did in the first place and can you just use that? Well no, sorry, because, well IT"S BEEN SHREDDED NOOOOOOWWWW

To qupte my darling girl Carrie Jo.... "fucknuggets".
*cue dizzying despair*

Well,I managed to complete EVERYTHING and then some until 7pm. Whew, I'm beat.

I'm going to take my dizzy little self off to bed before I flip off the computer chair.

Nightie night loves.


I did what?

Well, here you have it. I'm going to give you proof that I've gone and lost my fucking mind. I hope you're prepared.

As if I don't have enough work on my hands already, I stuck my nose, ass, foot, mouth, whole body into something that I just couldn't leave well enough alone. New premises for the bank I work at.

Being a control freak is a bit of a bitch, actually. Gets me into all sorts of stuff. Like this for instance:

I have slowly been immersing myself into this business of locating a future site for the bank headquarters. What with the projections and all for the next year or so, we are going to outgrow where we currently are sooner than later, and there are two new projects, MAJOR projects going up right now. I noticed that my boss, the CEO, was being courted by THIS PLACE and after I nosily looked at the blueprints of the floor plan and building design (because this is a little hobby of mine that not many people know about. Hmm. Well, until now anyway!) I decided that it really would not do. No matter how pretty and cool they look. Because THIS is really so much better. There are several reasons why this is better, which I , in my devious way, pointed out to my boss by calling a guy I know that is running the development of MY CHOICE to arrange for a presentation.

OUR appointment with him is tomorrow. Did any of you catch that? I thought you might.

Yeah. I basically presented my very experienced opinion, because well, I've done such a project, sort of , in the past. Or been quite involved anyway. With one little exception. This boss? Freely gave me the power to take a big hand in this and he trusts my judgement, I think. Between that, my little blueprint hobby that I confessed to him also today, and me selfishly wanting to have us at the best location, he allowed me to involve my little control freak, OCD self.

Oh boy.

Then I went back to my desk all happy with my accomplishment to see my pile of work, only to mutter to myself…..I said what? I did what? Oh Gawd. I have GOT TO get my assistant SOON.

Then I went to pull my foot out of my mouth. Heh.


Inquisition Confession – Week 17? 18? 19? 30?

Well hell if I remember! What ended up as over 95 hrs of overtime for Feb tends to f*ck with your memory, ya know?

What was I saying? Oh God. Am I getting senile? At 33?

Oh yeah. Now I remember…. I think.

I was actually going to answer the sweetest, most darling blog readers….. MY darling blog readers… who lately have had ZILCH to read. And I mean diddly squat. Well except for the chopsticks post, that is. Well, and the little post about my boobs. And that one report about my mild and definitely unplanned for drunken stupor.
Now I don't remember when or what week these questions were asked, but hey, I just started cruising through my comments and Gmail and I came up with these. If I missed your question…. Well hell. Ask me for THIS WEEK BABY!

But first. Can I just tell y'all something? While I love me some Garfield. (My kitten) I am hopelessly, deeply in love with Bandit. Bandit is the little furry bugger that was trying to swing from my hoop earrings the other week, bless his little purring self. This kitten sits on my boobs and stares at me…. Just stares at me ooooozing love from his big blue eyes. Sometimes, because he IS a boy, he lays in my cleavage, hugging a boob, tries to nurse (to which I say "Honey. That has been empty of milk for YEARS!) but he sorta hugs my boob and….

Stares at me. Deep in my eyes. He is still little soul (except for when he is giving me mad kisses on my cheek, ear or chin), unlike Garfield. Garfee is a cute fat ass cat. He is as big as Bandit, who is 1 week older than him. Garfee is NEEDY. If he isn't getting sufficient attention, he bitches-loudly- until he gets it. Garfield is getting more and more red, bless his fat butt. And Bandit? His blue points are such a deep blue as to be almost Navy. It's like the color of a blueberry. And his fur? If you blow on it and get a "part"? It's like he has blue roots with cream ends more than halfway out. Much like that look Shakira had going on a year or so ago. SO CUTE on the cat. Not so cute on Shakira.

OH? And Isis? Is really ready to pop her kittens any day now. And Garfield's mom? Miss Scarlett? I've been calling her a whore all day now. She's been getting her groove on since night before last. God help me. I SO wanna fix Max. Z won't let me. Something about men and their nutsack and the whole empathy thing. I dunno.

On to the questions.

Catrina gets to be first this week with her question:

What is the primary language spoken in the office where you work?

Well Cat, the primary language is English, surprisingly. Arabic is an official language and the bank I work for IS an Arab bank, but there are also so very many Persian Bahraini's here, that Persian, or the local version of it, is spoken a lot. By myself included. MY boss thinks it's cool I speak it.

Generally, I am constantly amazed by the number of genuinely good people that work where I do.

Carrie Jo nailed my ass but good (Lemmie out of the corner, willya? Jeez) with this one:

Have you ever seriously considered having an affair? ;o) Just thought I'd keep it interesting for you.-Carrie Jo

Well, well, well! Miss Carrie Jo! Let's hope Z doesn't read my blog for a while, hmmmm?

Teasing. Sort of.

Out of curiosity, do all my detailed plans of rocking Simon le Bon or John Taylor's world count? Cause if it does? Then hell yes. Because Simon could have me on my back in 5 seconds flat. (Or me have him on his, either way is ALL GOOD) I think he still looks damn good, and so does John for that matter. ROWRRRRR!

An affair. Well, this IS interesting, now isn't it? And a bit tricky as well.

See, I personally think of an affair as something 'casual'. Casual sex that you have once or twice, or for a while- short period of time- and then walk away from. So, really no. Because it is pretty much impossible for me to be intimate with someone without deep feelings for them. I'm just not that way. It's not me. It's not in me to have a one night stand. Kissing and petting is one thing (Which I also haven't done since before I met Z many moons ago) but intercourse? NO, to share your body with someone is special. At least to me. That's the way I was raised. A perfect example is the deep an abiding love I have had for the two men mentioned above for over 20 years, so that is some pretty deep feelings. A lot of which is lust and appreciation for the men that they are.

Sure, I've been pissed and thought, "That'd show him but good" when Z has put me down in one way or another. But it really isn't me. (Gee, could I say that phrase any more? I doubt it.)

Not that I haven't had the opportunity. I actually had an opportunity that I didn't even know about until it was way too late to do anything if I wanted to right as I was leaving the States to move here. A good male friend of mine and sort of coworker (was a company rep that came to where I worked every week once or twice) basically confessed everything he felt for me in writing right before I left. Some of the most beautiful sweet flattering things ANY man has ever said to me, of his regrets for keeping his feelings from me, etc… When I read that, and got over the whole shock of HIS confession, all I could see in my mind's eye was the look on his face when one of my female coworkers broke the news that I was moving out of the country to him. The look that all of a sudden made sense. The vibes I felt from him at my farewell party. The kiss on the cheek that I thought was accidentally closer to my mouth than my cheek that I blew off as one too many jello shooters. It was all too clear to me suddenly. But I got on that plane a few days later and waved good bye out the window as it took off to everything and everyone I knew, wondering if and when I would see them all again.

Whew. I think I just confessed more than I planned. Did I ramble? Quite possibly. Oh well.

In a nutshell, I think I would have to have really deep feelings for someone in order to do anything, and if I felt that way, I don't really think it would qualify as casual enough to be categorized as an affair (in my book), now would it?

Chery B, my naughty darling friend is back in the saddle, so to speak, with one of her playful questions I love so.

What do you think of strippers? Some friends and I went to see the Ultimate Males show on Friday and had a blast. Have you ever seen strippers? Also, what do you think of men going (to see women)? – Cheryl b

What do I think of strippers? Um, I don't usually think of em, actually. I've never seen strippers, real strippers. Don't think I'd mind doing it for the sake of the experience, either. I think that men go for different reasons than women go for. Ok, for most women. I could totally be talking from my a*s here, but men, I think, get, ahem, erections and all turned on from it. What with all the cootchie being stuffed in their faces, the whole slow bump and grind and whatnot. By the same token, you can't tell me there is a room full of soaking wet turned on women at Chippendales. The dances are totally different, from what I hear tell (and what little footage of it I've seen) for one thing. Do men give lap dances too? Now THAT might be fun! *hee hee* The stuff I've seen – film snippets- of the men's performance (like Chip's) is exactly that. Performance.

But hey, I could be wrong. I guess this just means that you'll have to take me to see some strippers after you kidnap me to live on the commune with you, Carrie Jo, and the other girls, huh Cheryl? Can we stop on the way though? I need to get change for some 50's! (I'm a good tipper!)

On a related note. I think doing a pole dance could be fun. I saw a TV sitcom where a bunch of women went to a pole dancing class, and it looked so damn fun!

I'm weird, I know.

I received another question from Carrie Jo last week, that went a little something like this:

OK, my question: what does your favorite outfit look like and why is it your favorite? (an easy one for this week)

Ah… an easy one darling Carrie Jo.

Well pussycat, my favorite work outfit goes a little something like this: A black lightweight crepe suit. The blazer is quite long, actually. Clean simple and not overly tailored. With my favorite pale turquoise v-neck blouse underneath. Black open toed sling back heels. I like this suit so much; I have it in Navy also with my favorite pale latte/cream colored blouse. It has trousers or a slightly above the knee length skirt.

That was work. Now for my free time? Casual I freaking adore Capris. Blue jean capris, black denim capris. Cotton capris of various colors and materials. Some short to the knee, some mid calf. I've got a couple of the blue denim ones with beautiful embroidery and/or beading at the hem. In this heat? It's a must for survival since it isn't appropriate really to wear shorts in public for ladies here. (Some do, but it is really more hassle than it is worth, believe me) So I would say capris and a pretty, vibrant colored t-shirt. I'm girly that way. I like tee's with a little something special. I am NOT a walking ad board, capiche? (I wear those kind at home loafing around in my SHORTS! HEH!) For shoes? Sometimes I wear flats, or strappy sandals, or something on my feet with a little more oomph! Depends on my mood. Definitely depends on my mood.

For that in-between look, like when I go shopping at the mall or somewhere out not so casual, it's usually slacks (but sometimes a skirt) and a pretty blouse with strappy heeled sandals.

How's that sweet cheeks?

Well, that's it for this week (month's?) Inquisition Confession. I promise to be a better blogger. Smooches all around for hanging in there and checking my blog periodically. I appreciate it more than you know. I just feel like my get up and go got up and went.

If you see my get up and go, will you let me know? Better yet. Hold it hostage and FedEx it back to me.

Thanks. Adieu my darlings, until I post again!