Jump in the cab
Here I am for the first time
Look to the right and I see an arabic sign
This is all so crazy
Everybody seems so Muslim!
I never thought that Miley Cirus would resonate...but she will have to do for today.
In a previous life, I spent a good number of hours and days of my life writing, rehearsing and performing sketch comedy. I enjoyed this tremendously for a number of reasons, but today's flashback is to the incredible number of dance parties that this experience inspired. Let's also note that this was in college, so between the dance parties, the alcohol and miscellaneous bacchanalia, good times were had by all - and these good times continue to roll to at any reunion, wedding, etc. I digress (typical).
The point of all of this is to say, I like to get down on occasion. I particularly enjoy doing so in the car, because no one is really watching me unless I'm stopped at a light and if I broke out into some kind of booty-shaking in the office, it might not go over well. It also might result in a button popping or other such wardrobe malfunction. That would just be bad all around in any situation, but in my current location in an industry chock full o' men, this is no bueno.
So I am that girl. I am that girl who gets caught shakin' it at a red light and that's ok with me. It is the suppressed performer in me yearning to get out. Generally this little person expresses herself through incessant talking or people-pleasing, but if I am standing at a bar having a civil conversation in an attempt to be classy and the music is bumpin', you're damn right I start to twitch in an effort to hold it in or In some cases, I'll just outright bust a move because it's that kind of evening and I am that girl.
It's cool. Right? Sure.
Let's say for a minute that you add caffeine to this little person. Seeing that I have not yet embraced the cultural experience that is cooking in my teeny, enclosed, anti-social kitchen, I have been subsisting primarily on caffeine, fruit, yogurt, frozen waffles and various forms of chicken salads. (My mother at this point is doing the math and realizing this means I am not drinking and am probably dropping serious amounts of weight...I am sure she's either cheering or really, really concerned). Needless to say, the cappuccino runs are not so few and not so far between so I'm a little bit on edge, which basically means that people run away when I approach them because they don't have time for me to spend ten minutes telling a story or asking a question without taking a breath.
That's where I am at, for the most part. Whether I am having to ingest pigeon (don't recommend it), rabbit (was ok but I kept thinking of Thumper) or even standard western fare like chicken ceasar salads, my diet is supplemented by a significant amount of caffeine and I am more wound up than ever.
This has resulted in alot of fast driving and loud music because a girl has got to let it out somehow. That's where Miley comes in. I don't really get the Hannah Montana thing. All she really does for me is reaffirm the belief that having daughters is terrifying.
One day they are causing an insurmountable cash hemorrhage (the cute little dresses, then ballet class, then the Justice store, then bedazzled thongs), and the next day they are dancing around a pole because Hannah Montana does it all the time (on TV). Then they grow up to blog about how their undergrad degree from a top university wasn't good enough so they had to get an MBA and they STILL could make more money taking their clothes off for a living...
Again, I digress. My apologies (the caffeine...) Point being, Miley isn't my favorite -- but her song is damn catchy. And I love it. And I love it even more when I am driving super fast in my rental Volvo on roads in UAE because a) the speed limit is high, b) the roads are insane and c) I gotta get some kind of release.
Yesterday was not my favorite day. The Emergency Person's arrival has been pushed back another week (which stinks), my workload doubled in the kind of way that will require weekends at the office (and seeing that I live and work with the people here, that's a lot of time to spend suppressing the little performer in you) and to top it all off, I cannot figure out why the A/C in my bedroom has a smell. Not a good smell or an irrelevant smell. A smell that tests my restraint as I want to tear off the vents, pull out the pipes and then ask a boy to fix it please. So when I woke up today and it was sunny and pretty out, with a light breeze coming through the window, I vowed to enjoy the day. And I got in the Volvo. And I heard that song. And it was good.
I jammed out for the entire 20 minute drive to work. I thought of college dance parties, and I realized it's time. It's time for a night club experience in the UAE. Maybe even time for a cocktail (legal in bars, restaurants and night clubs at hotels as well as if you have a license to purchase -- which I will in a few weeks). Sometimes, a girl's just gotta dance. Will report back, friends.
Until next time, try the lamb, but stay away from the pigeon. Seriously, it's kind of gross.
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