Kat in the UAE

OOOOhhhh, update. So I went to the Intercon again today to go swimming (seriously, I did not go with the intention of stalking HOT French guy). Anyway, I went to the 'serious' swimmers pool and picked a chair across on the far side of the area. I'm not a 'serious' swimmer, I just don't like the nasty little Brit kids splashing water in my face. I wear make-up to the pool, for God's sake. I don't need them smudging my mascara.

Anyway, it was sooooooooo hot. Boiling. Everyone was commenting on it. I put on a bit of sunscreen and enjoyed the bake. I had an OK! magazine and my book 'Almost French' so I was like a pig in slops. Happy day. There were at least 4 French people on my side of the pool. I swear, it's like a mass migration. I don't know what the hell they're doing in Al Ain. They like it, I guess.

So, there I was, dripping water from my quick dip to cool off. I had my sexy tortoise shell I'm-a-film-star sunglasses on and my I'm-so-sexy-don't-you-want-me HOT pink bikini on and I had my chair totally flat. This is the best because you're laying all flat and therefore your stomach is flat and you have no cellulite or rolls anywhere. Plus, you look ready for sex. Even if you are in public in an Arab country. But the image is undeniably there. Who walks up to the French couple next to me? HOT French guy. MEEEEEEoooooowwwwwww. He stood there talking to them in French for like 10 minutes. So I made the most of it. I reached over, picked up my sunscreen, and slowly and seductively rubbed it all over my arms. I wasn't about to bend down and put it on my legs. I had a perfectly flat, naked stomach in front of a hot guy for the first time in my life and I wasn't about to wreck it. Hhmmmmmm, I thought. "It's funny how there are a million French people out here and Jerome feels the need to chit chat with the old couple next to me for ages and ages. And I'm in HOT pink, just like yesterday when he saw me, and I'm on the farthest part of this property that you could possibly be from the bars and restaurants. Maybe he saw me and saw them and thought the opportunity for checking me out was ripe? Or maybe he was just doing his job? NAH. He wants me.

So anyway, he was talking to them and I was in total view. All he had to do was glance over their heads for a full view of moi. He probably did a dozen times. I mean, the hot pink bikini works it's own special magic. I looked right at him once, but I was wearing sunglasses so there is no way he could have known that I even acknowledged his existence. He was there forever. So in a shameless move, I made one of those seductive moves that you do when you are leisurely lounging in the sun on a chaise and you aren't quite comfortable. I arched my back off the chair using my elbows, making my boobs swell toward the sun, and then laid back down again really slowly, sighing gently. I'm such a porn star. Anyway, he sauntered on by after his intense dialogue in that sexy, sexy language with the old folks. I noticed that he didn't pause to talk to the army of French people on the other side of my chair. Oh yes, Hot French guy will someday be mine. The French are big on l'art de la seduction. I want to be Monet, yes I do.

OK, it's amazing how much trouble one can get into when one has zero obligations. With Arabic class finished ($745 dollars later) I am officially free of all time committments. So you must be wondering: How was free wine night? Abso-FUCKING-lutely fabulous. I went wearing a sleeveless wine colored shirt and long black skirt. My hair was ironed flat and I had starry eyes in anticipation of all the red wine I could drink between 7 and 11. In the beginning of the evening, the girls and I sat around lamenting the absence of hot men, eating spring rolls, and guzzling wine. Was it good wine? I have no idea. It didn't make my lips purse and it matched my top. Therefore, I loved it.

Anyway, there we were giggling away, when I looked up and saw HOT FRENCH guy who manages the food and beverage workings of the Intercon. And oh dear Lord. He was wearing a SUIT and he was wearing it well. He was going around to people and asking them how they were enjoying everything, etc. etc. This is the same French guy who I went out for a drink with about 5 weeks ago. At our petit rendez-vous, he told me I was forward. Then he gave me the advice, "Don't chase men or you'll get a bad reputation." Hmmph. I laughed it off and said to him, "Ce n'est pas vrai."

Anyway, this was the first time I had seen him since that happened a month ago. Anyway, I didn't stare at him, just pointed him out to Molly and Angela and they were like, "Damn, he is HOT! AND he has a sexy French accent?" Mais oui. Anyway, he didn't approach us. Then Molly said, "Katherine, he just looked right at you and grinned really big." I was like, of course he did. I am like the hottest girl in the room. (I have no ego, really!) But he never called me after our drink, so I'm definitely not going to be the one to say Bonsoir to him. So he left the bar to go make his work rounds and check on the rest of the restaurants or whatever he does. There are 5 or 6 restaurants in the Intercon, so it's neverending work I'm sure.

Anyway, we decided to move closer to the DJ because he was all alone and kind of funny and young. We thought it would perk him up, but he just ignored us. Maybe the three of us hot young chicas are more intimidating than we realize. Then I saw a professor from the university. He is kind of old and has a beard and giggles a lot, but he is so sweet. So anyway we flirted with him and teased him for a while. All his old man friends looked absolutely bitter that he was getting so much attention from us. Then I told him that it won't hurt our feelings if he wants to leave and hang with his mates. He was really slow at moving, let me tell you. Then all his old man friends were goggling at us all night while it was obvious he was telling them the raunchy things we had said to them. I am sure he fell asleep thinking about all the naughty things we might get up to late at night.

The next thing I know, there is a tanned, blue eyed Australian man in my face shouting over the music, "Are you married?" I laughed (this is after 5 glasses of wine). "No! I'm not!" "Well then," he said, "Can I chat you up?" I noticed a long table of 8 British men watching every move we made. "Uh, sit here." I pointed at a chair. He started the chat up. "All those guys over there work for me. They wanted to come over and talk to you, but they didn't have the nerve." I am a sex GODDESS. I am a sex GODDESS. So, combining old professor men's eyes and Australian workers' guys' eyes, I had like 15 pairs on me all at once. Then who walked in? HOT French guy. The moment was so sweet. I was getting chatted up by the Australian, Molly and Angela had quickly shifted themselves to a small, separate table, and loads of guys were watching the 'chatting up' of me care of the Aussie. And HOT French guy walked into the middle of it and saw the worshipping of ME.

Later, Molly told me that while I was laughing at the Aussie man's antics, Frenchie was watching from the other side of the bar. HA HA HA. I gave Aussie guy my number and rounded up Molly when I noticed the professor hounding her a little too seriously and the mysterious disappearance of Angela, leaving Molly all alone.

"Where is Angela?" I asked. Oh, she left with the Brazilian soccer player. Now, this might sound sexy, but he wasn't one of those gorgeous Hispanic gods. He was, however, quite potent and I am proud of the girl for making the move! So I called Angela to check on her and she said she was fine. I told her to call me when she got home safe. She called me around 1. "Angela, what have you been doing?" "Umm, I went to his bungalow and he gave me oral." "ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS!!!!!!!! THAT IS AWESOME!!!!" And yes, she came.

Right after that phone call, Aussie man called me to ask me if I wanted to come to brunch with him at the Intercon the next morning. His work in Al Ain had been cancelled, so he had the morning free until he had to go back to Abu Dhabi. Harmless enough, so I said sure. The next morning, nursing a nasty red wine hangover, I put on my make-up, put on some tame grey capris and a nice black shirt, and drove over for breakfast. And who do you think was there in the restaurant overseeing the serving of brunch? HOT FRENCH GUY. HA HA HA. So I'm sure he thinks I spent the night with Aussie, despite the fact that I was wearing completely different clothes. I laugh at this mercilessly. Yes, I am having breakfast with hot, rich Aussie man, and YOU, Frenchie-who-never-called-me-after-our-date, are serving us. Such a sweet, sweet turn of events.

Aussie guy kissed me good-bye (a nice big one on the cheek but not on my mouth, which I would have felt weird about). So then, I figured since I'm here at Intercon, I will go swimming in my sexy hot pink bikini. I still have a slight hangover, and I hear that alcohol is good for that, so I will have a margarita at 11 in the morning. So I nursed my drink by the pool, wearing my ultra elegant black pareo, and my doesn't-leave-much-to-the-imagination hot pink bikini top. Who walks by? HOT FRENCH GUY. I ignored him cruelly. What an excellent 14 hours. Does anyone else think it's strange that I saw him 5 times? Either he is stalking me or he thinks I'm stalking him. It's all sheer coincidence, I swear.

I saw Hidalgo today with Molly! It was awesome, all about this half-breed cowboy who goes to compete in a huge desert race. In the end he wins, takes the money home, and sets a bunch of mustangs free. It's lovely. I did wonder why he didn't, like, buy some land for the Sioux people or whatever, but he was still hot.

Then I got my hair highlighted. I am super blonde.

Oh, and then I went online and made a personal ad on this Muslim dating site. How sad is my life?

Now I'm getting drunk alone in my room. This is becoming common practice. I just can't taste the Bacardi in a Bacardi and Sprite.

Oh, oh, oh. Tomorrow is free wine at the Intercontinental beginning at 7 in the evening. Excitement! There are LOTS of French guys at Intercon. And we all know how easy they are.

Aaaaaaaahhhhhh, infatuation. So tonight I went and got my entire body waxed. Well, the bottom half of my legs, my armpits, and my pounani. That's right. Pounani. Yes, it hurts. Yes, the wax is hot. Yes, two women stood there, holding my precious jewel wide open to the elements, and smeared hot wax everywhere with a butter knife. Then they slapped on some wax strips and ripped out the offending hairs. I said, "Haram!" in the middle of one seriously painful swipe, and they giggled at me for a few minutes. Haram is like 'forbidden' or 'oh, no'.

Then I went home and drank for a little while with Molly. Her husband just left the country, so she has more time on her hands.

Angela, the other Fulbright chick, called me from CosmeSurge earlier today. She was nearly in tears. She has had laser hair removal done at the Abu Dhabi clinic twice now. Today was the second treatment. When she was leaving the clinic, they stopped her and said she needed to pay. She had already paid 2200 dirhams for the treatments, and she had asked several times if that was the only payment she had to pay before she decided to have it done. Turns out, no. That fee is for each time she comes in to get the lasering (it's the same area each time). That's about 600 dollars. Per session. An estimated 5 sessions required. She was nearly breaking down on the phone. It was awful. I couldn't do anything to help her. In the end, the manager showed up and promised to negotiate something. She didn't pay 2200 today, and I don't know if she will in the future, but I think it's safe to say she won't be having any more CosmeSurge laser treatments.

After Molly went home, the French guy came to visit. We were chatting and then he said, "OK, let's go smoke shisa." So we went to this outdoor smoking area with lots of men and lots of tea. It was nice. We had grape shisa and mint tea. At a table near ours, there was an Arab dude. He made a little signal to French guy and held up four fingers. This means that he was willing to pay 400 dirhams to have sex with me. Haram. So we left a little while after that and I made French guy buy me toilet paper and Q-tips. He noticed a ping pong table upstairs in the shopping center, so he dragged me up there to play. It was really fun! Then he was acting like an idiot and wanted to try to run away without paying. What a loser. Anyway, I told him he was an idiot and in the meantime the girl showed up to take his 10 dirhams. He gave me a dirty look. See what I have to put up with?

Of course, when we drove back to the building where we live, everyone who works there had decided it was a nice night, so they were all hanging out on the sidewalk outside. The relationship I carry on with French guy is definitely a big secret, so no way could I get out of his car with him. So he had to drive all the way around the back, drop me off, let me walk into the building while he is driving around for a while, and then come inside later. I'm sure everyone in the building knows what is going on and they are laughing at us right now. Already, one of the reception guys said to French dude that I had gone to Dubai and asked French dude why he had not gone with me. What???!!!

Then we returned home and watched 3 minutes of a French movie that was on TV. He has returned to his place now. He needs to be at work in 7 hours and he needs his beauty sleep.

Last night I had a little cocktail party last night. One of the professors and his wife came, and one of the Fulbright girls and her husband came. The wife of the prof sent her husband downstairs to get her a proper wine glass to drink her wine in (my pub style flutes wouldn't do) and I showed them all my new 18 minute video about our Ras al Khaimah trip. We went on a tour of a dhow yard (local ship yard) and climbed on some ruins. Parts of it are funny. I put a caption on the film where Chris is carrying Angela on his shoulders. She is like, "Am I too heavy?" He says, "No, you're really light." So the caption says, "I have had much bigger girls on top of me for way longer than this."

It went alright. We had fun and drank a good bit. We ate Pringles, Bugles, and grapes. So American. Then I visited the French guy and we had a 'rough' night if you get my drift. Highly satisfying, to say the least.

Today I went swimming at the pool at the Intercontinental hotel. I stopped by the pub to have a JD and coke. Some ancient South African man wanted me to come sit with him, but I politely declined. "No thanks, I don't really care to know how rugby is played." Anyway, he paid my bill, which was nice! Ha. Then I came home and cleaned. It is 7 o'clock at night now. Aren't my days stressful? I don't deserve the life of leisure that I lead!

OK, all is good on the homefront today. I'm still smitten with Frog man, who I didn't speak to for two days and who then sent me a text that said, "you're ignoring me in a superb way." Foreign people make English sound so interesting. Anyway, i bailed Al Ain on Monday and picked up Chris (other Fulbright guy) in Sharjah. The traffic was horrible and I was in a nasty, pathetic mood because I had had a pretty bad day. It was more a state of mind than it was that something specifically bad happened to me. I got 3 more phone calls about buying my car, which we can add to the 2,399,345 other phone calls I have had about that stupid Range Rover. Someone just BUY it already.

I stayed with Chris in Dubai at his hotel, but don't get the wrong idea. No hanky panky. I have thought about putting the moves on him before, but he is such a friendly guy and is so laid back that I never got a big urge to grab him and fondle him or anything. He's a great friend, that is it and that's a lot. Then, Chris and I got up the next morning and went to Wild WADI!!!! Which is an awesome water park. Chris said it was shit and only had one good slide, but I LOVED it. There were all these tube rides and these funky slides where the water pushed you UP and then around corners. Then you flew around a corner and plunged into a pool, where some random Nigerian, Yugoslavian, or Philippino person dragged your tube over to a new shoot and pushed you down it. They AWESOMEST was an underground tunnel filled with water that the tube I was in careened through at a pretty high speed. I didn't see one beam of light for about 15 seconds! The whole time I was flying through the tunnel I felt completely helpless and relaxed. I couldn't predict what was coming or do anything about it.

There was a big wave pool and a REALLY high slide. The slide is preported to shoot you down at about 80 mph. I did that one twice. The first time, I swear to God I was completely airborne for about a second. It was probably only 2 cm off the slide, but I was flying through the air pretty fucking fast. My legs came uncrossed as I was headed down, and the massive pressure of the water on the slide went right up into my precious jewel. When I got to the bottom, I stood up in shock and realized that my whole bikini bottom had been shoved up into my asscrack. In the front, it looked like someone had grabbed my knickers and given my a frontal wedgie. I was completely on display, but I sorted myself out quickly and Chris stopped laughing after about 10 minutes, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. When I went the second time, there was a 10-year-old girl contemplating going on the slide. She watched a couple of men go, then nodded that she was ready. Her dad cheered her on, she laid down at the top with her arms and legs crossed, and then she was off. When she reached the bottom, her Dad smiled and then turned around to walk back down the stairs. "Wait, you don't want to go?" The launch monitor lady asked. "No way on Earth," the guy laughed. That was hilarious. The little girl would do it but the dad did the walk of shame back down the stairs. Ha ha ha.

We saw the 50 hairiest men on Earth while we were there. Guys with hair growing out of their shoulders, backs, eyeballs, fingernails. OK, not really, but Chris referred to them as the furry guys. It was insane.

I wore my hot pink bikini and pranced around in it (and only it) for almost 5 hours. Something I NEVER would have done pre-lipo. Chris was shocked to hear that I had never been to a water park before. I was like, are you kidding? That is that last place I would have been with my ample derriere. It was so fun. It showed me what I had been missing, locked into my disproportionate physique. I could have gone to a water park fat before, but I couldn't have done it and been as happy as I was at Wild Wadi. I even went to a food counter and ordered a hot dog as I stood there, dripping, in my hot pink 'LOOK AT ME, MEN' bikini.

Anyway, we went out to dinner with the two lovely Dubai ladies (names withheld to protect the innocent), freak American guy Michael, and a hot Iranian dude. It was nice. Then Michael came with Chris and I to the club we had previously discovered just outside our hotel. We stumbled into it last night and realized that Chris needed to be with his people. Namely, the 100 black people that exist in the UAE. I was scared to death. I was like, we're white, we don't belong. I was wrong. The bartender actually gave me a free drink after I smiled at him and then this girl with some serious booty came and shook it in front of Chris. Other than that, C and M played some pool and I ate some olives. Oh, and Chris made awful remarks about the percentage of HIV + people in the room, but we'll forgive him just this once.

I am now recuperating for one day in Dubai, in fact I just got my nails painted hot pink. Tomorrow I will return to the French guy so I can nurse him. He has had pain in his abdomen for about a week. Been to the doctor a couple of times, but nothing is working yet and he's acting all sick and pathetic. I'm gonna take him a movie and some orange juice so he can tell me again how I am, "Teaching him how to be nicer to people." What a crock of shit!

Oh my God. I hate him. I hate him because I know he's going to break up with me. Because he doesn't like getting too attached to anyone. He broke up with this girl he adores after two weeks. She was very beautiful and rich and then she said something negative about the Emirates and they broke up. He still talks about her, though. She is in the states right now. She likes horses a lot and he rides horses. I have a feeling that when he goes back to France and sees her in May (she is returning to France soon) then he is going to want to sleep with her. We just had a lovely evening together. But he is a bit ill. He has been seeing a doctor about his stomach. It is aching all the time and he can't eat.

But anyway, I love his face and muscles and his stamina. He has a lot of energy. And he turns me on a lot but I don't want to tell him. So I always tell him how ugly he is. He likes that. He likes to be put down. But I don't get it. He never took any of his girlfriends home. But his sister took some boyfriends home. She always sees guys for a long time. She is tres monogamous. I think he likes to drive his mother nuts. He said that he has a very bad character around her and his sister. This is the negative, crazy, self-absorbed man that our mothers warned us about. And I am completely besotted. I want him around all the time. But I ignore him and pretend he is disgusting. And I always tell him what is wrong with him. And then I let him come over and make out (and more) for hours and hours. Until the early hours of the morning. And there is major chemistry. I wake up thinking about what he is going to do to me next. It's awful but very pleasureable. I'm ashamed, but I have never been happier with a man. I know that the Emirates has made me a bit crazy. I have very little work to do and it is all leisure, but this is a time for growth, I suppose. Every ounce of intelligence I have is telling me to stop seeing him, but I know I want to continue this sinful path until I leave. I am very bad.

I leave in July. He knows this. He says, "Stay as long as you can." I tell him I hate him. It's sick. I don't know what to do. I think I should think like a man and start dating the Starbucks manager in case the French guy goes psycho or tells me he never wants to see me. Or I should throw myself into work or something, but that is so boring.

I don't know how I'm going to get a pic of him, Ash. He always poses like a serial killer for photos. Every photo I have seen of him is stoic, unsmiling, and with his arms crossed. What a freak.

It's Sunday, which means evening Arabic class with Kamla. Kamla is a lovely Omania girl. She just got married 'on paper'. It means she can go public places and make big purchases with her husband Mubarak, but they aren't living together. They will have the big party and be properly married in August. My other Arabic tutor, Wdha, is also an Omania girl. She was engaged, but I didn't know that until I told her that I had broken my engagment. "Me, too!" she said. Then she gave me a high five and said, "We have freedom!" I laughed my ass off. There she stood in her black head covering and black abaya and shrieked with pleasure. If I didn't know better I would have wondered if she was hitting the clubs and getting freaky on the weekends, she was so happy to be single. I asked her why she decided to break it off. She said, "Well I went to this government department where we looked up his name in a database. The search showed that he was already married. We had been engaged six months and he never told me that he had a wife! So I asked him 'Are you married?' and he said No. Then he paused for a second and said Yes. So I left him." Jesus. Or maybe Allah is more appropriate.

Jerry Maguire is on TV here tonight. I notice that the entire scene where that crazy red-headed bitch is bouncing up and down on top of Tom Cruise and tells him that she'll sleep with another woman for him has been cut out. That must have been Haram in the extreme. If I were Emirati I would definitely want to work at the censorship office. That job must be a trip.

OK, still seeing the crazy French guy. His biceps are huge. He lifts weights all the time. I had no idea how much that turns me on until I squeezed his arms. His pecs are pretty massive, too, so I tease him by grabbing them like they're boobs. He gets all pissed off and says, "Arrete!" It's highly amusing. And he always smells sooooooooo nice. He's one of those obsessively clean men. He smells delicious. But I'm not telling him.

There is a reason I was born with green eyes. I am easily the most jealous person on earth. I'm jealous of EVERYONE. If there isn't a good reason to envy a person, I make one up. Here is a list of examples from my recent life:

1 a chick in Virginia: she is 22, has an economics master's degree, is in LAW school, came the FIRST time she ever had sex, knows how to MANAGE her FINANCES, and her parents are together and have always loved each other

2 a chick in UAE: she is slightly older than me, went to HARVARD to do ART (significant because this subject doesn't make 88 percent of the world popoulation want to crawl into a corner and suck their thumbs for the next 6 months like, say, chemistry), has absolutely ZERO idea of how mind-bogglingly gorgeous she is, always has something INTERESTING to say, and is RICH (don't you want to be her?)

3 a guy in UAE: is 22, going to YALE LAW, knows everything about world history, POLITICS, economics, and the anatomy of a woman, is a COMPLETE whore and honestly does not care AT ALL (no guilt, must be sooooooo nice), is TALL in epic proportions, after they have met him, people are practically begging to spend time with him. charisma and magnetism unlike any other

4 a bitch in germany: is 20-ish, a size 00, is of American Indian descent so she gets little checks, tax breaks, business opportunities I never will, has gorgeous, long, undamaged hair that is naturally 4 colors of blonde, huge white teeth like julia roberts, has a rich mother, is bitchy and sassy and GUYS practically nut themselves just looking at her (a man on a bus bench next to her in germany whipped his out and wanked off next to her one day. blech.)

5 a bitch in the UAE: is over 30 yet looks younger than me (23), tans naturally, has BLUE eyes, said she was going to go on a DIET and actually went through with it, got super skinny, is naturally tall, speaks fluent Arabic. Grrrrrrrrr.

This is all I can stomach at the moment. If I think of anyone else I will scribble them in at a later date.

xxxxxx

love,
kat

My ass hurts. The sun burn is definitely noticeable. Guess I'm not getting my complimentary post-lipo massage tomorrow. Too burned, and the Russian lady that uses the huge vacuum pump on my skin enjoys inflicting pain. I'm avoiding her until the skin peels.

My scars are tiny and I bought a new bikini. It's hot pink and matches my trash novel that I'm reading right now. It is soooo cute. It's from NEXT. The top is one of those halter-tie-around-the-neck and tie-around-the-back things. I think I'm gonna get Chris (hot Fulbright guy about to go to Yale Law) to come to the beach in Dubai with me and then 'accidentally' drop my top. Even if I don't flash my jugs I'll have to pathetically ask him to tie my barely-there top back on. Yes, I've turned into a desperate whore. Let's not dwell on it.

I'm ignoring French guy. It's been two days and it's working. I got a text and an e-mail. I bet he's pouting and squirming right now. That or he picked up a prostitute (wouldn't put it past him). His e-mail was like, "I like you so much, even if I act indifferent sometimes." (I left his place in the middle of the night when he couldn't come up with a good compliment after some heavy intimacy). My ego soared when he wrote to me that I have a lot of charm, energy, and intelligence. Then he said some stuff in French about liking my face and boobs. I had to look up 'seins' on a French/English online dictionary. It means boobs. Anyway, he is still weird. I want to get him all wound up and psychotic before he does it to me.

Wait, I think I am psychotic.

Sigh. I laid out by the pool today and read a fat Marian Keyes novel. It was great. Now my back and thighs are burned, though. There is always a price to pay.

Last night Enrique Iglesias and Anna Kournikova were at Boudoir, the hottest (and my most favorite) club in Dubai. Why wasn't I there?????? Why was I watching a Jet Li movie and eating crispy rice on the sofa with two chicas when I could have been part of the IN crowd for the first time in my life???!!!

Oh well. Tonight we are going to the E. Iglesias concert. And I hear that the Iranian mafia got hold of two back stage passes. I daren't get my hopes up... But there is the slight possibility that I will get close enough to Enrique to see the scar where the doc cut his mole out.

I'm a little bored but I can't think of anything better to do than write to people and read diet success stories.

Oh, since my lipo I have lost 16 pounds. I think 9 was from the surgery and 7 was from the magic "I don't feel like eating pills" that Arab pharmacists give out freely.

Little toddler boy Wasfi woke me up this morning by screaming through the vent in my door, "Auntie Ca Ca!!! CA CA CA CA!!"

That's right, I'm Auntie Shit and I'm proud of it.

Finally, in Dubai in the land of sane people. Al Ain sucks. Everyone is going off of their rockers. Now the kids are all in Oman, but I'm going to see Enrique Iglesias tomorrow night and I'm excited about that. We're heading out with the Iranian mafia. Thank God. Something interesting. The dating thing is seriously in the garbage. I went out with psychotic 'Women Around the World Worship Me' man to the nicest restaurant in town. He was such a baby. I had to hold his hand the whole time, yet he goes there constantly on business. Then he ate his hamburger (we ate in the bar area, not really the schmoozy dining for lovers area) with a knife and fork. He's so French it makes me want to gag. I ate the most delicious prawns I have ever tasted. They had loads of garlic on them. Anyway, I saw his penis and it is small and dark. He's of Indian descent so he's pretty dark all over. He's so weird. Sometimes he acts like he is completely entranced by me (this is generally when I abuse him and tell him what a freak loser he is) and sometimes he is flippant and has a bad temper. He brought me some nice pink roses, though. At least he tried.

My bestest friend in the whole wide world likes a boy. And he sounds like a sane guy with several neurons firing upstairs. Already he's a catch. Now if he doesn't have a strange psychosis or committment issue I'll be ecstatic for her. They held hands. Not much on the surface, but any physical contact in a public place is a positive signal. I think this is a step in the right direction.

I am very nearly dead broke. I need to sell my car pronto, but no serious buyers seem interested. I get calls in Arabic and Hindi 24/7, but I'm sick of people saying that they are coming to get the car the next day and then never showing up. Yawn.

This is all for now. I am off to find someone new to date. The Starbucks manager in Al Ain is looking kind of tasty, but in Dubai I feel that I should set my sights higher...

OK, life is getting difficult. I hate getting stressed out and I am definitely getting there. I want to DATE people. I know there are thousands of women like me. We never really DATED. Our guys sort of fell in our laps. We didn't get taken out to dinners, movies, and the like. We didn't have 3 different guys pencilled in for the following week. A single guy turned up for a few weeks, months, or years, and then there was a drought for what seemed like ages. I want to go out and get treated to stuff. Why not me? I have never really worked at this before. Before I had my most serious relationship I had a couple of school boys. They didn't have the cars, cash, imagination to date correctly. Now I demand results. It's MY FUCKING TURN. Where are the men? There is the French guy across the hall who wants to get freaky but puts no effort into impressing me at all (he is automatically jetted for this intense flaw, despite the sexy accent) and the guy I got to have a drink with me last week said I was 'forward'. Hmmph. I'm just not a space cadet. What is a girl to do? My dear friend in Dubai is getting this American guy to go clubbing with our group on Wednesday (yes, the design is to get us together) but I want a guy to meet me, ask me out, and open his wallet. Am I too weird or ugly or did these guys NOT GET the MEMO. My lipo is looking alright. Not as slender as I would like, but it's definitely a huge improvement.

Honestly, though, back to my social life. It SUCKS. I can't get anyone to go out with me (friend wise). Everyone is sitting around like grandmas and grandpas. Let's go OUT. Let's bar b q in the desert, have a drink at the pub, go see a naff movie at the cinemas, go to Dubai and stay overnight. SOMETHING. I am aging rapidly and bitterly. I'm 23, not 63.

OK, the lipo progress has been good. Both thighs are a great deal smaller. I measured the circumference of each one and they are 1.5 inches smaller around, but look even smaller because the doc sort of ironed the sides out so I don't look so wide from the front. The right inner thigh does have some slight waves, but there is so much less flab there that I welcome the change.

The best thing about the surgery is that I have NO hips! Zero bulges. I can't believe it. He said he would take a little fat from there, but damn. He did an excellent job and they look amazing. The skin is very tight there already and it looks awesome. I have to buy a bikini now.

My garment is much more comfortable and I got to wash it at Manar's house, so I am super happy now! I also bought a less restrictive, cooler garment from a shop called Caresse in Wafi City mall. The Russian girl who vacuumed my thighs recommended it for the hotter months. The vacumming is a sort of anti-cellulite treatment that I have to do 4 rounds of. It also reduces the swelling after surgery. It kind of hurt because my skin is still sensitive and feels bruised on the ass.

It is getting very hot here. And I almost melted at the Boudoir club in Dubai when I went last week. That was an awesome night, though. My two awesome Brit girl friends went with me and we partied with hot Iranian girls all night (+ Shaun, who is American and likes Katie to rub up on him a bit).

The wedding, unfurtunately, is off. It is a great relief to me, though. Too bad the DJ (Entire Occasions, so avoid them) will not give us the money back that we paid above the deposit. The photographer is giving back 50% and the cake baker is yet to be asked for a refund.

I applied for the Paris job but I am not counting on it. I did put a good effort into the app but I honestly just don't have the qualifications. Bummer!