Inquisition Confession Week 2 Gazillion and three

Hey babies! Tomorrow is Scarlett's Haven's FIRST BIRTHDAY!!!

Happy Birthday to me! Happy Birthday to ME!

And to celebrate, I'm going to a friend's birthday tonight where I plan to get very friendly with the peach flavored vodka on the rocks, and/or lots of Amaretto most likely interspersed with rum. Most likely all , actually... Now to tide you over until you can find out how tipsy I ended up, read on babies, read on!

This week's questions read a little something like this:

Cheryl b asked me:

What is the weirdest thing you have ever eaten?

This is a good one. Really.

I’m not much into eating ‘unique things” in that, I’m basically a Beef, Chicken/Turkey or Veggies kind of woman. Well, don’t tell anyone (Shhhhh!) but I really LOVE me some BACON. I have a thing about eating cute animals. I just can’t do it.

Chickens? Ugly. Cows? Generally speaking? Ugly. Turkeys? FUGLY. Pigs? They fall into a middle ground. See, baby pigs are cute. Adult pigs? Ugly.

Things I won’t eat even if you beg me? Rabbit. Deer. Squirrel. Quail. Frog’s legs. *gag*. Snake. (Although I am of the opinion the only good snake is a dead one, preferably on my shoes or purse)

I don’t like eating odd organs and parts, either. My husband eats liver, chicken liver, and the neck and sucks on cartilage and crap from bones and it GROSSES ME THE HELL OUT. *gag, retch* And for some strange reason, that is the time he decides he wants a kiss from me. Sorry, um, nooooooooooooooo. Garlic I can handle. Onions, I can handle. Kidneys and liver and stuff? Um, NO. Those organs clean the crap out of our bodies and you wanna eat that? Hell no.

I think the weirdest thing I’ve eaten would have to a tie between be shark and elephant steak. Shark was in the form of soup and it was TOTALLY due to a language-barrier type accident…I think. It was when we were living in Paris when I was 8, and I asked an ADULT to order me chicken soup. I noticed it tasted funny. A few bites in… between much sign language and bad English… we finally figured out it was shark and next thing I knew? I was gagging and running for the toilet. Ditto for the steak.

Enough about the food. Damn, but I'm hungry.

Catrina made me nostalgic and her question is right on, since she knows me so well! Cat asked me….

Does Manama have any type of theater arts? If so, what plays have you seen recently?

Cat. The only real theater type stuff is in Arabic, and I can’t understand most of it,but it’s not what we are used to. I think it is in the works to make something to have such plays and stuff here. But not yet.

I’m DYING to go to the theater. Proper theater arts. I miss it So. I have to content myself with TCM Channel for now. That’s one of the things I want to do when I come home for my visit this year. Hit some quality production theater. And I know just who to drag with me!

Meow meow.

To my most favorite Pirate Wench- you get TWO questions next week due to the whole repeat thing. I understand darling. The rum made you do it. MWAH!
Between A Rock And A Hard Place

That is precisely where I was the other evening at my SIL’s barbeque.

We were all sitting with my SIL’s lovely Irish neighbor and the neighbor’s Mom, who was visiting from Ireland and reminds me- personality wise- of my dearly departed Nana, and we were all discussing culture differences between Middle Eastern, Irish and Western men in general terms. More specifically the whole ‘Mama’s Boy’ issue and also care/responsibility of the elderly between different cultures.

Hmmmmm. You know this was interesting and awkward, now wasn’t it? Yes indeedy.

It was one of those instances where if I had said what I really wanted to (ie: hello? Hypocrites?? Stop acting for the benefit of the neighbors.) it would have resulted in a knock down drag out battle where I most likely would have been dog piled on by my husband’s respective family members. So I bit my lip, then tongue, and dug my nails into my palm in an effort to keep my thoughts to myself. But damn me it was a close one.

Although I admit, to some extent, it STILL cracks me up just thinking about it.

I can’t stand hypocrites. I do my best not to be one in fact. So much so that when my daughter brings home the odd C in Math and her dad is telling me to “Say something to her about that!” I say, “Well, I really can’t I rarely did much better than that…. EVER in Math.” (yeah, and here I sit working in a bank. That is hilarious, don’t you think?) So when the conversation switched to where parents should go to when they are O.L.D, that Nana jr said “well, I assume I will be in an old folks home at some point like most others, even though it is my understanding that things are different here in this part of the world.”. To which everyone (yeah, you know who I’m referring to.. the whole damn lot basically!) showed proper horror and disgust saying “well in this culture, it is a sign of respect to take your parents in once they are old, and everyone takes care of the parents needs, etc..”

I listened to this ever-increasing load of complete and utter BULLSHIT with complete astonishment while trying very hard to control my usually very expressive face. I came so close to saying-and embarrassing the lot of BIG FAT LIARS- “oh, and none of you do jack shit for your mother, and YOU in particular, Ms. Showoff “I’m-stinking-rich-now-and-always-said-that-once-I-became-successful-I would-take-care-of-mom-and-get –her out-of-your-hair C&Z-and-get-her-her-own-apartment-and-a-full-time-maid-nurse-and-driver-to-take-care-of-her-but-that-was-also-a-complete-load-of-shit-because-now-she-has-to-nag-for-TWO-FUCKING-MONTHS-for-me-to-send-my-DRIVER-cause-I-can’t-be-bothered-to-take-her-myself-to-buy-her-some-bread-and-veggies-to-shut-her-nagging-ass-up-for-a-day-or-two,but-have-no-problem-flaunting-my-new-$30,000 diamond watch (has her eye on a Chopard one that costs $90,000,btw)-and-new-$5,000-dollar-diamond,gold,ruby and turquoise-chandelier-earrings.” (Are y’all gagging and retching by now? Oh Goooooood. I have company at the porcelain throne. Uh-huh. Fab.)

More horror and disgust at the way “westerners” take care of their elderly by dumping them in a ‘home’, etc ensued to which Nana Jr said “well, in some cases, the parents don’t WANT to live with their children - she went on to put everyone in their respective places, so I felt she had it well in hand at this point--They prefer somewhere else, or a home where they can get proper medical attention. Also, usually they go live with the eldest son or child.” To which some at the table STUPIDLY said “oh yeah, they usually do that here too, so that’s alike.” I made sure I stared at EACH ONE IN THE EYES.

Did I ever mention that Z is the second youngest of 7? Yes, I said second YOUNGEST. Uh-huh.

This became a very uncomfortable conversation because… well, for obvious reasons.

Then they moved on to the Mama’s Boys topic. Heh. It’s better I not even consider joining in this conversation. But you know something? The Irish ladies noticed my silence because I had been extremely animated and talkative until then.

Did I ever mention that Z never knows where ANYTHING is in the kitchen? Or his bureau drawers? Or his wallet for that matter. Ok, basically anything, anywhere. Good thing some things are attached, huh? Yeah.

What I really wanted to say was “Honey, the Irish have NOTHIN on guys here!” and both Irish ladies, particularly Nana Jr. were looking at me wonderingly.

I don’t think I’ve been this uncomfortable in a coon’s age. Can you blame me?

I can just imagine the comments I’m going to get on this. Oh yeaaaahhhh. Anyone gonna help me out from this boulder?


An Appetiser

First of all. I want questions. It's that time of the week again. You have roughly 48 hours to get your Inquistion question in. Just wanted to remind y'all is all. Thankseversomuch!!

Now then, I just HAD to blog this, cause it is really so damn funny. Well, at least I think so, for whatever that's worth.

Last night after dinner Z was sitting on the sofa watching-what else?- CNN holding one of our newest kittens whom I call Gypsy right now for lack of a better name, in his arms sitting on his chest. She can literally fit in your palm and her eyes opened last week. Gypsy is freaking GORGEOUS Y'ALL! She is pure snow white with huge blue eyes. I want to eat her up even on a bad day.

Anyway, Gypsy saw me walking through the room and started SCREAMING at me like"Hey! I'm OVER HEEEEEERRRRRREEEEEEE MOM!" and she looked so damn adorable that I couldn't resist and ran over to her making kissy noises and telling her what a pretty girl she is ......(now picture this)

And I end up standing between Z's knees in my nightie, bent over with my tail in the air and rubbing my nose back and forth on her soft fluffy big round white head making kissing noises while Gypsy's meows almost ceased and turned to purring interspersed with little mews (I translated this to mean "good slave".). Z was laughing at me with a smile on his face and then he suddenly got all tense and started pushing me away. This was right about the time I heard rude remarks coming from the hallway from the ever running mouth of my Monster-In-Law. She then slammed her bedroom door still ranting-loudly-under her breath and Z started laughing and said "She's SO pissed. Imagine how it looked and sounded from HER ANGLE? She couldn't see the cat for all that red hair and your butt waving in her face! She thought you were rubbing up on me! Wahahahahaaaaaaa." Me: "Like you let me???? hey, hang on a second......

Nnow that you put it that way.......... Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahhahaha. Here kitty kittyyyyyy!"


Panties, etc....

Well! I bet that got your attention, now didn't it?? I can just imagine what kind of traffic I'm gonig to get from Google on that one! haha.

Actually, it refers not to what you are most likely assuming- yes, this means YOU!- but to the oh-so-appropriate phrase: Don't get your panties in a bunch.

So, like, DON'T, okay? Thanks.

There is a post in the works, a real one, not a bit like this little masterpiece here, no way! A real one. Just hold on a bit, hmmm? and remember one important thing....

Patience is a virtue, and who has many virtues left by now anyway? Do what you can.


Scarlett Cyn