Hmm – its all a little strange….
My mum is asking for copies of my passport photos – am I afraid? Not really – am I curious at what sort of mayhem she has planned? Perhaps!
My mum went out yesterday with all the “auntie’s” as Mondays are their weekly gossip session, competition over who can cook the best/most food Quran session. Now I have not really been to any of these sessions but I have heard my mum talk about them and although there appears to be some discussions about religion, Quran and translation and implementation of a verse it does appear that A LOT of the following occurs:
Eating…. Copious amounts of eating – my mum has never come home empty handed from these gatherings!
Talking about their married children – thus making my mum more resolute to annihilate my engagement with Mr A and get me some other more my-mother-appropriate type!
Talking about how bad those who don’t wear a hijab are – therefore making my mum come home and go on and on and on at me that I must wear one
Talk about the state of the west and how terribly ‘open’ everything is and how It is ruining their children and that she should go back to the home country – making my mum more resolute to get me over for hajj, wearing a hijab and thus moving me back to the ‘old’ country (where things are all apparently pure and clean – yeah right!)
Talking about one’s ailments – making each woman more obsessed about their spurs, spurts of arthritis, hay fever and benign cysts – therefore making my mum CERTAIN that her time is nigh and that I should be more mindful that she is going to die soon and that I am killing her.
Anyway – my mum went there yesterday and came home with food and now is going on about my passport photos and how lucky I am that I have dual citizenship because it’s easy for us to move back… huh? What? When we move back?
Hahahahahahahahahaha – yeah right… because THAT’S going to happen! Good luck her trying to organise that!
I have a feeling though that this is what she’s trying to do – as on some nights she’ll get a call at some obscure times and she’ll be rather intense about needing to “do what’s right” and that “she knows what she’s doing” and “no matter what we need to organise this soon”. It all seems like one big plot to arrange something devious as on the occasions I’ve gotten up and walked passed her room she’s either gone all silent and asked me why I’m up for or tell whoever it is she needs to get off the phone!
Very strange indeed!
Anyway – I told her that I have no idea where my passport photos are and asked what on earth she needed for… she went all elusive and angry and said that “she just needed them” and that she was disappointed that I showed little regard to something so important…
Hmmm… very strange!
What’s on your pizza?
A certain pizza place that shall remain nameless have put out a new ad that claims that “all our pizza’s now use premium fresh ingredients!”
Which makes me want to pose this question?
Were they using less than premium; not particularly fresh ingredients before?
Curiouser & curiouser!
Cleaning up other people’s mess…
In an attempt to alleviate the total amount of crap I would have to endure with going out on the Friday night I made the executive decision to stay home on the Saturday night… I thought that will be an exceptionally smart idea as it also meant I could deep condition my hair and wash my delicates and if I was feeling particularly domestic-my cleaning!
Well, well… after a WHOLE day of my mum and dealing with her drama and ‘disillusioned logic’ I was about ready to hammer a drill bit into the side of my head.
Seriously, no wonder I CRAVE my Saturday nights like an addict needing a hit! Urrrggghhhh – just one MORE reason why I LOATHE going out Friday nights…
So what happened on my Saturday day?
I awoke to the sound of knocking, knocking, and knocking – I told mum to bloody answer the door. Apparently it was ‘uncle’ Kamal (remember? The family that Reza was staying with) who was calling out to mum to answer the door – she came into my room and said that she didn’t want to answer the door because she had been told by his wife that it was better if she (my mum) and uncle Kamal didn’t talk to each other; mum’s friends also gave her the same advice (I have no idea what went down nor do I want to know!) I told her that since he was here at out front door it must be something important and to open the door – she said she was scared and did not want to. Its 9.30 on a Saturday morning – the morning I sleep in… I seriously did not want to deal with this issue. So I rolled over and told mum that I wasn’t getting involved and to do whatever she wanted.
Well – after a joyous 15 minutes of silence I then start hearing hard core banging on the window. Then yelling and swearing… I return to my room and shut the door – I am SICK of cleaning up the messes that are made! After a good few minutes the next door neighbour threatens to call the cops if he continued making such noise! Well – he left then but left Reza’s suitcase with them. All that day I hear about how this man had stressed mum out… am I the only one who thinks that if she had answered the door all this would have been avoided??? Midway through the day I get a message from my aunts (Reza’s mum) saying that Reza had been unable to take his suitcase and could we please look after it until he sorted out his student visa? Well, mum didn’t want to look after the suitcase because mum and Reza aren’t talking… maddening. I told her that this wasn’t for Reza this was for his mum – HER cousin.
Later that night after I have told mum that I don’t want to talk about it – that here is yet one more thing that now I have to do because of something she’s created that realty all I want is some peace and quiet – but no – mum can’t let things go. She calls my aunt (after I told her that I would do it in a few days time) and cried to her about the whole debacle… I am yearning for ear plugs! Then mum comes into my room telling me that my aunt wants to speak to me. Apparently we’re now not sure if Reza will be coming back to Australia, and if he does he wants to go to Sydney (probably to stay away from my mum) so could I please send his stuff back and my aunt will transfer the cost into my account!
AAARRRRGGGGHHHHHH!!!
I cannot fathom how much this is going to cost to send – its 22kgs of his stuff! 22kilos to send I can bet ain’t cheap!
Whatever – I am willing to sort it out so I can finally get some sleep (it’s Saturday night by this point)! I hand the phone back to mum (after telling my aunt I’ll call back in the next couple days) and shut the door. Mum comes back into my room 5 minutes later:
Mum: so are you going to send it back soon?
Me: mum – its late and I have seriously had a draining day. I’m going to sort it out. Don’t think about it anymore. It’s my problem now.
Mum: but I need to know – how long must we have this suitcase?
Me: *sitting up in bed now* Please mum – stop talking about this with me. I am going to fix this. Like normal – YOU make the mess and I have to fix it.
Mum: but I wasn’t to talk about it…
Me: goodnight mum – no more talk about this… none!
Sunday morning…
Mum: I was thinking last night about maybe you could ask aunty XX if she could take the suitcase with her to Indonesia when she goes next week… isn’t that a good idea?
Me: mum – I said that I did not want to talk about this anymore… its MY problem now… I’ll fix it…
Mum: but I want to talk to you more about this…
I went to the bathroom and managed to have a shower, do my hair and makeup AND get dressed in 12 minutes!!!
I got out the door at 8.55am on my way to Mr A’s… the poor guy didn’t expect me over by 1pm! I made it ABUNDANTLY clear to my mum that me leaving THAT early on a Sunday was SOLEY because I told her that I didn’t want to talk about this anymore and her REFUSING to listen!
Friday night…
*sigh* My night tonight is about rushing back home & about placating my mum before going out to dinner. I loathe going out on a Friday night… I don’t mind a brief catch up for an hour or two right after work but dislike the going home, primping myself up and then going out again. Maybe it’s a sign I’m getting older or perhaps its because I know that the people who also will be out on these nights are girls hoping to pull and men looking to perve. So again… *sigh* and *double sigh*
I am off to the Subiaco hotel tonight for a birthday dinner – its Mr A’s friend who will be part of the bridal party so I am sort of obliged to go… he’s is one of those people who makes you feel sorta bad if you leave early – so I am sadly resigning myself to it being a looonnnggg night! I don’t get the partying hard on a Friday – and come to think of it I never have! i mean – you’ve spent an entire day at work, your brain is stuffed, you’ve been wearing heels all day – wouldn’t you much rather go home, soak in the bath then put on your fluffy robe after applying heavenly scented body butter then sitting down to either a good movie or a great book? Popping a lasagne in the oven while you were in the bath so that when you get out of the bathroom the entire house has that wafting smell that makes your tummy grumble? Isn’t it so much nicer to be at home on these nights so you can dish yourself a large serving and eat through it while you watch/read said movie/book? Then you can enjoy a yummy slice of cake or a bowl of ice-cream… where you don’t have to make nice conversation – where you don’t have to care who see’s you, where you can just be… leave the dishes in the sink and deal with them later… doesn’t this sound so much better?
But no – I have to go home; have a shower and perk myself up – pop on something that ‘fits in’ with the scene at Subi (which means something effortless chic but has some sort of label on it) and then be all happy and merry when really all I wasn’t is the said aforementioned paragraph!
*sigh*
But in the spirit of not looking a gift horse in the mouth I am looking forward to the yummy food (as the chef there is fabulous) and then comes what Susi and I LOVE about the Subi:
Their Sticky Date Pudding!!!
As you would have all known by now we (inclusive of Mr A) have a penchant for said dessert – but the restaurant at the Subi really does outdo itself in this dessert department; where most places will serve it with a butterscotch sauce the Subi serve the pudding looking like an island surrounded by a river of butterscotch sauce *drrrooolll*. Atop this mouth-watering deliciousness is a scoop of vanilla ice-cream and a loving dollop of cream…
*DROOL *
Eh – I suppose it’s not too bad that I have to go out tonight!
Although I will say I’m not looking forward to mum’s discussions about how terrible I am for going out – how its not ‘good Muslim woman’ behaviour, how she wonders ‘what the neighbours will think’ (which one? the man who yells & screams at his wife – although she gives as good as she gets – and I think is hitting her or the other neighbours who are 3 young guys who really could not care less!
Want a tissue?
Last night I had dinner at Mr A’s place – he made my favourite dessert as a little surprise (hmmm – sticky date pudding; I know Susi is drooling right now!) which was happily received and eaten with both zest and glee!
Anyways after eating we decided to mimic beached whales and plonk ourselves down in front of the TV and proceeded to watch… Find Your Family on channel 9 (screened at 8pm on a Tuesday – there’s the plug channel 9!). The general blurb of this reality show/series is that they (try to) reunite family members. Now I don’t normally watch this show – it’s generally something I flick past. But last night Mr A’s folks were watching it and neither one of us could be bothered to get up and watch TV in the other room.
OH MY GOD! What a tear jerker! One guy had come on looking for his daughter who he had not seen in over 30 years! Apparently he’s then wife ran off with his best mate and their daughter when she was only a few years old…. He never saw her again! She wasn’t told that her “dad” wasn’t her biological father until she was an adolescent.
Well, its bloody heart wrenching is what it is! You see this guy finally get reunited with his daughter – the tears, the conversation! Then the other ‘story’ was of a woman who had to give up her twins (one boy and a girl) because she was a single parent and already had 2 other little girls and so was unable to look after or afford 2 more (it was the early 70’s)! She’d never ever seen her twins – the only memento she has is that one of the nurses on duty at the time of birth wrote down their weight and length and that she’s had a boy and a girl! Insert the sad music, the tears and she tells viewers that her only memory of the children is gave birth to was that she saw 2 cribs; one with a pink ribbon and a blue ribbon. And then they reunite… oh – yet more tears… Mr A was desperately trying to get his folks to change the channel but they wanted to see what happened…
Even I got teary – I mean she had never seen her babies and now here they were – 35 (odd) years later! Mr A’s dad (who is not one of those sappy sorts in the slightest) wasn’t teary but was more than a little moved by whole situation…
Such a shame that my little ‘reunion’ with my dad was hardly the tear-jerker!
When does it get too much?
So my cousin Reza (as mentioned in: people & their quirks, Some things should never be said!, Sunday was… “interesting” and first introduced in My crying rant ) has been messaging me every so often – I have maintained open lines of communication on grounds that he is still family (albeit distant) and that his mother told me to keep in contact with him. Plus, he is essentially in a foreign country without the amenities of luxury that he has become overly accustomed to (ie: his folks paying for everything and letting him mooch off them for 10 years…). Every so often I would call and touch base – see how’s he’s doing and make sure that all was well – he in turn would message me or attempt to call me when he needed something. Need your visa extended? Call me!
Need to figure out how long your visa will be extended by? Also call me!
Need money within 24 hours? Call me!
Now I have told him that if he needed something to let me know – and in all honesty call me stupid but I would have been more than happy to lend/give him some money but when its written out as: “can you send me about $250 tomorrow to my account BSB:XXX and account number:XXXX with YY bank – I really need it” I get slightly peeved because I start to think that clearly he has shifted the mooching from his folks to me! if he had asked for the money in a couple days that’s one thing – but its completely another situation when its ‘hey can I have some money from you now… like NOW… NOW!’ especially when all contact made by him has been about doing something for him (not to mention that there was not a single ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ involved!)
I asked what the money was for and the only response I got was “will you send it?” he did eventually (3 messages later) tell me why he needed it (to go back home) as he was spending all his money there in Sydney. Now here is where my frustration lies:
If and when I go on holidays I either purchase a return ticket (thus ensuring that I am returning) or would make sure that I have left and adequate amount o funds that would ensure I would be able to get home. You don’t seriously spend ALL your money and then have NO way to get home… that’s just idiocy!
But that’s what he did – what frustrates me even more is that I KNOW he would have ensured he had enough money to buy himself his ½ pack a day habit (of smoking). So last night after thinking and discussing the issue with Mr A I messaged him with: ‘am happy to send you money in about a week. Have had to pay bills + deposit on houseL. If you need it sooner I can call your mum and ask her to send you some cash’
My response from him was “its ok – I already bought ticket. I will be in Perth at 9am – can you pick me up? I go to back at 10pm”
What??? I’m sorry man – I can’t just drop everything at the drop of a hat! When I go to visit you guys I don’t get you all to either pick me up or drop me off (to the airport) – I catch a cab. I don’t spend every single dollar to my name… seriously; his parents sent him here to get a grip on reality and get some responsibly – to learn the value of money; cut him off cold turkey and let him work out the concept of: BUDGET! Clearly 2 (& bit) months later none of these abilities have been learned…
My response was “I can’t do that as I other things like work that needs to get done. I will transfer some money into your account so you can catch a taxi”. So that’s what I did – I transferred $100 this morning before his plan landed… MORE than enough for 2 taxi rides from the airport; something to eat and even some smokes!
Yep – as I’ve said before: so this is a person that my mum thinks is a better option that Mr A huh? Oh my god!
She wasn’t born with it!
maybe your wearing fake eyelashes?
Now I am the first to admit that I am a marketers dream – I am the prime target market that media advertising is driven towards. I see an ad that shows a new product and I am the first one to give it a go. I am the person who walks through the supermarket and has to try the product with the ‘new’ sticker on it. I don’t think it’s a problem (denial) more than it’s me doing my research for something bigger and better, being inquisitive, curious and investigative…
Some ads are just plain dumb…or perhaps I need to rephrase that – they are targeted to the idiot. I saw the most recent media advertisement for Maybelline’s XXL Mascara and can I say that I am disturbed by anyone who buys this mascara based on the advert…
So we all know that women buy mascara with the promise of long, curly, thick lashes… we all know that since make-up company’s know this, that this is clearly what they advertise… nothing amiss there. But then you see the advert for this ‘miracle’ mascara which shows black, glossy, curly & lusciously thick lashes… with the small little white text on the bottom corner that reads:
“Model wears lash inserts”
Lash inserts my friends – they are FAKE!!!!
Faker that Pamela Anderson’s assets!
Faker than Michael Jackson’s nose
Faker than Carly’s hair extensions
Fake, fake, fake, fake, fake!!! Really woman – surely none of us is going to go out and buy a tube of these… why? Because essentially what Maybelline AREN’T saying is this:
“Try our new XXL mascara – its so shit that we had to put lash inserts on this model so you’re totally ‘wowed’ by her eyes!”
Or “The consumer of fair trade act have forced us to put the ‘lash inserts’ line in BUT we’re hoping that if its in small font and in the corner of your screen that you won’t notice!”
I mean really!
Lash Inserts
Clearly SHE wasn’t born with it (and come to think of it – it wasn’t “maybe it’s Maybelline” either!)
Me & my new bag!
loooovveeee the bag!
I bought a new handbag – it’s quilted & cute (since my last trip I have actually been looking for a nice quilted bag that didn’t have some huge logo emblazoned it!)
Susi also bought a new handbag… it is also quilted and cute!
Yes it is the same handbag BUT before you judge us please know that we have bought totally different colours! She bought the white and I bought the orange.
Yes I know what you’re thinking – orange?? Really? What’s that going to go with? I too thought this way & thought I should play it safe & get it in white but then thought that in general I don’t really do ‘safe’ purchases! Plus the more I thought about it the more I was able to talk myself into truly believing that I would be able to have a lot of things match the orange – meanwhile a little bit of clashing is all good!
Obviously the chic in the pic is neither me or Mr A (its Niky Hilton) – but that’s what the bag looks like – it’s not a Marc Jacobs nor is it a knock off – rather its more ‘inspired’ as the design is pretty similar….and as I said – mine is in a different colour
isn't it cute?
I llloooooovvvveee the chain bit on it!!
