Kat in the UAE

Well, I shouldn't have dismissed M in Dubai so quickly. She said to me the other day, "Are you sure David doesn't read your blog?" And I said, "Nah. I only sent him the link once, months ago, and then I didn't write on it for weeks, so I don't think he would ever think to look at it again." But I wasn't at his house five minutes before he admitted that he looks at it every day.

Shocked doesn't begin to describe how I felt. I would never have written about my pathetic dating episodes or responded so light-heartedly to the 'are you getting married?' question. Dumb Dumb Dumb. That's me. It's like my brain went on autopilot and gave itself the mission: Hurt David's feelings in every way possible. I never wanted to do that. I'm sorrier than I ever thought I could be.

Yesterday I went to David's house around 11. We packed up my stuff, split the silverware (Julliard Oneida, gorgeous stuff), and agreed to sell our Wedgwood on ebay. We behaved ourselves. Both of us were abnormally kind to each other. My friend Sez came over there for a little while, too. Then she had to go on a weekend away with her mates.

Later David and I drove to Oxford to ship my 9 boxes + suitcase to Germany. £140 later, we drove back and I went home to cry that gross no-one-is-looking-at-me-so-I-can-howl-like-a-wolf-and-snot-everywhere kind of crying. Dave had gotten so skinny. He was so quiet. He said he still cares about me and I'm sweet. And I just wanted to scream at him. "I'm awful! Hate me! Go find someone new and make me jealous!" He has a lot going for him, actually. He's got thousands of pounds in the bank, a great idea for his own business, and a family that adores and supports him.

Today we decided to go out for lunch and talk. Not much happened. We ate and I made him feel bad in the way that only ex-girlfriends can do. He got a refund from the Tux store and we talked some more at the house where I'm staying. We both ended up in tears but we finished with a nice good-bye. He made me promise to keep in touch, and I agreed to e-mail him from time to time if it will make him eat more.

Regardless, I think it's time to change this blog's domain. If you would like to get the new link, e-mail me at kaflansburg@hotmail.com. I would censor myself too much in the future if I thought my ex-fiance was reading this. As much as he wants to keep reading it, I think it's seriously unhealthy.

I'm off to Germany tomorrow. My momster is waiting with an arsenal of American food. Her mission in life is to feed me within an inch of my life. I love her for it.

I'm looking forward to having all my belongings in one place for the first time in 5 years. After the TV and stereo arrive, I'm going to have quite the pad upstairs in Germany. I'm going to have to get a padlock for the door to lock my momster out so she won't play with my toys when I'm away.

More people in Reading spoke to me on the street today than every before. I gave a lady and her husband 50p because they only had 1.50 between them for the bus. They thanked me like 7 times. Then some freak said, "Can I just say what a priddy top that is?" Ick ick ick. Go away old stinky man. Then someone asked me which buses go to the station. This is a record for England. I think the sunshine made the Brits happy and talkative for a change.

OK, I'm heading back to Sez's place to pack and eat KFC twister sandwich and watch Brit TV. I'm shocked to find that every episode of Flog It! or Trading Spaces I have seen was already played in the UAE on BBC Prime. Astonishing.

Bye all. My momster probably won't facilitate my surfing habit, so it might be a while before I talk to you again. Kisses,
Kat

I'm officially departing the Middle East. I love this place. I know I'm going to pine for it when I'm in a chilly wet place or when I'm desperate for a road adventure. I'm in the Dubai Airport at the moment, working on using 40 minutes of internet before I head through gate 18 and board my British Airways flight. I bought a paperback of Queen Noor, two paperbacks of Mother Without a Mask (story of women in Al Ain, my town, about 25 years ago) and a Lonely Planet Italy. After I get to Germany on the 23rd, my momster is going to drive us to Tuscany where we can drink red wine and bond.

I will miss the sand, the men in pajamas, and lovely, elegant Arab girls.

I have a couple of regrets. I never wore my full abayah, sheila, and face veil out into the streets. I wanted to see if people would still be able to tell that I was foreign. I thought maybe they wouldn't notice the suspiciously pale eye area above the face veil (or the fact my eyes are green). Now I'll have to wait until I return to find out! And I never flashed the 100 Indian guys that loiter outside my house and stare at me when I walk by.

I want to come back. That much is certain. But I don't know when.

God willing, I will bring my rich, old husband here on our honeymoon!

Kisses to you all. I will be in America from June 11.

I can barely write. I've been crying buckets for the last 20 minutes! My roommate from Randolph-Macon Woman's College just graduated and The Washington Post carried a story about her on the front page today. Please take a look at www.washingtonpost.com. You have to sign in, which sucks, but the story is headlined on the webpage as 'A Long Journey to a Dream.'
There is also a slide slow with Kakenya's voiceover. She's talking about home and what she wants to do after graduation. When I heard her voice I broke down even more.

But her mother. Dear God, the woman is amazing. She traveled all the way from Enoosaen to Washington, D.C. It was 60 hours. The journey I made from her village to Dubai last November nearly killed me. I've never been so exhausted in my life! Or filthy. That bus to Nairobi is NOT clean. And this woman basically traveled 20 hours longer than I did to get there. I can't help but think about what her first impressions of America are. And how amazing it must be for Kakenya to have her Mom there with her for graduation.

It's like watching a really cheesy feel-good film, only it's real life! I haven't cried for joy in a long time. I'm so proud of Kakenya. She worked so hard and came so far. She earned her moment in the spotlight.

I love Kellie, I love Kellie! She is my new favorite girrrrrrrllllll. Nope, I'm not getting married. I chickened out. But it was going to be beautiful. My gown is at my house in Germany and I'm going to try it on when I get there in late May. It was going to be at the Assembly Rooms, a la Jane Austen, and we were going to dance under three chandeliers with beautiful flower arrangements and live happily ever after, but then I realized that neither one of us would earn a living wage in England and his pot smoking was never going to cease. He was going to embarass me (this has happened so often) many more times throughout my life. He adored me and I loved him truly, but I knew I wouldn't be happy. I needed to sever the ties before I drowned.

Enough, now I am psychotic and happier for it. Nothing was more degrading that writing to everyone I know and telling them that the wedding was off. And now my bridesmaids are pissed because the gowns that we ordered from America have arrived in the UK -- and they have a 107 GreatBritainPound duty slapped on them.

I just got back from Salalah, Oman. It was lovely, but I started to lose it after 14 hours of driving. I cried. I am so glad to be home now. I had a shower and read all the comments and now I'm happy again.

We picked up a hitchhiker today. He was a nice Indian man just trying to get back home to Muscat. We took him to Nizwa, which was a massive part of the journey (around 700 km), and I fed him potato chips and Bisc & Mars bars. He was very happy to be traveling a hundred miles an hour, in air conditioning, munching my goodies, and listening to Christina Aguilera. To show his appreciation he bought me a Pepsi at the gas station and shook my hand. I would never have picked him up if scary-ass Chris hadn't been along for the ride.

I might get my car money tomorrow. Insh-Allah. God willing.

I bought gorgeous silver trinkets in Salalah. Now I have necklaces with Arabic all over them, so I can wear them when I travel on public transportation and everyone will stay away from me. One is a little book with the Kabbah, the holy place in Mecca that all Muslims pray toward (it's basically a tiny black square building with a meteorite shoved in the wall from pre-Islamic times) that has a false bottom. I can slide that bit of silver out, put my stash in, and seal it up. It's a necklace charm, so I'll wear it when I want to feel super-cool. I got another one with Allah on the front and the Ithlalia Corsi on the back. The Corsi thing is a verse (sorah) from the Quran that says something about Allah staying in one's heart. It is very beautiful and is always the verse that is etched on silver jewellry.

I have so much to do tomorrow!!! I have to ship boxes, get my driving license out of the American Embassy, and call the shipping place in England.

I miss you all. Heather, of course I'm going to come visit you! After I visit Kellie.

Chris is the stinky, constipated half-wit that I travel with. He makes racist comments and wants lots of children, so he is crossed off the list. However, his personal hygiene is of a distinctive level. He's brushing his teeth and holding his cock, walking around the room, as I type this.

Molly is leaving UAE tomorrow and I will miss her.

Now Chris is dancing on the bed to my Martina McBride CD. He's awesome.

We went to see a huge sinkhole today outside Salalah. We also went to the graveyard where the Sultan's family is buried. All the headstones had Arabic all over them. It was awesome, I took pictures. And we went in a fort, which was awesome. I whacked my head on a low door frame. 6'4" Chris managed to avoid it, but I drilled it.

Aroun sent me another sweet e-mail, which made me happy. He is still in France. He is talking about coming to the states, so I hope that when he does visit I will see him. He has an awesome doctor friend guy at UCLA Middle Eastern Studies library, so I think he'll be in the area.

OK, this internet is expensive and Chris wants to go watch 'Old School' so I'm getting off. Comment, bitches!!!

Chris is the funniest man on earth. Don't get mad, but I told him about this party that my friend J.C. was having on Sunday. I said, "It's awesome! Everybody is so happy and friendly and they'll definitely have WINE! But, there is this sort of weird thing that happens. In the middle of the fun, some guys get up and they pass plates around for everyone to put some money in for J.C." So Chris looks at me, dead serious, and says, "He gets everybody who comes to his house to give him money? What, is he Jewish?" I nearly pissed myself. Yeah! Yeah, he is Jewish!

Chris is hilarious. So cruel and so smart.

Just now, he went into the bathroom, looked over his shoulder, and said, "I might be a while. I gotta drop the Cosby kids off at the pool."

UGH.

Oman is awesome. I love it here.

OOOOOOooooohhhhh, Aroun just sent me an e-mail from France and signed it love. And he says that his friend Eric said that I am very, very cute in the pictures he showed him. Life is good.

Oh, oh. Chris's mom has this magnet. It says, Cheer Up. Things will get worse.

So true.

Chris and I are in Salalah, Oman. It is AMAZING. Today we saw a spurting geyser next to a turqouise sea and the prophet Job's tomb. The tomb was so amazing. It was in a little mosque, so I had to jet my shoes and put a headscarf on my head to be respectful. Then I surreptitiously videotaped it.

We are now at a gorgeous hotel and I'm in a good mood because I ate a chicken burger.

A couple of days ago Chris and I ate at Planet Hollywood in Dubai. It was soooooo freaky because they served PORK and ALCOHOL and they're not part of a hotel. This is the noteworthy shit that happens to us.

Aroun has gone to France. I drove him to the airport yesterday. It was a bittersweet good-bye. He told me he loves me. It made my year and broke my heart at the same time.

He said he has the picture I took of us in the desert and he's going to show it to his best friend, Eric. I like Eric because Aroun says that of all his girlfriends Eric likes me the best. Eric is getting a Christmas present from me, bien sur. Aroun told him about me over e-mail.

Now am in Dubai again, this time with Aroun's car and kick-ass CD player. M and M are sleeping and I just had a bowl of Cheerios.

I'm planning on going to Salalah in a couple of days. The cash for my car should be in my hands relatively soon. I'm holding the check now. I need money. I need to ship boxes. I need to stop thinking about Aroun. If I'm lucky I will see him within the next year, but nothing is certain or promised. He was really sweet to me and I had so much fun with him. And I liked how he could suddenly win my admiration with a random, scathingly deep comment that matched my thoughts exactly.

Enough. I'm going to wash my face and begin a new day.

So much has happened! Heather found a GOOD man, I'm still seeing a psychotic sado-masochist, and I sold my car! Wow, it feels like forever since I last posted. I'm sure I'll leave stuff out.

For the third time this year, I mistakenly purchased a shampoo because I thought it was a conditioner. Every time, I reach for a creamy bottle of whatever brand, read the label to make sure it's for dry hair, get home in the shower, and realize that I have just squirted a healthy dose of shampoo in my hand. WHY CAN'T I LEARN?

Aroun leaves in 2 days and I am sad. I will miss him. He has been so sweet and scary lately. He asked me what I thought our children would look like. I said, "Actually, I think they would be very beautiful." He said, "I think they would be white because you are so pale." Ha ha ha ha. He's Indian. They would have black hair and brown eyes; DOMINANT genes to the extreme. Sometimes he gets all serious like that. Other times he flirts with women in front of me in a shameless, despicable manner. He says that then I will know that other women want him and it makes him desirable. Actually, A, it just makes you an asshole.

Anyway, I actually like him for as much as I put him down. He is giving me his car to use while he is in France. Woo hoo!

Hmmmm, I saw HOT FRENCH guy at Intercon and he spoke to me. I was there at the dance place the other night and after 4 hours decided to leave with Chris at around 1:30. Chris had had an entire bottle of wine, a few beers, and a fat cigar. I had five Bloody Marys, so I was satisfied. Anyway, I was looking hot. I had my hair straightened and make-up carefully applied. So I was waiting for Chris to pee in the lobby. Actually I was waiting in the lobby, he was peeing downstairs, not in the lobby. Then I noticed our grown-up friends enter the hotel's front door. I waited at the top of the stairs, laughing at Chris dragging himself up the flight, and told him, "Come on, let's say hi to Esmail and Fatima!" I turn around, and who is walking right at me? HOT FRENCH GUY. I was still smiling from laughing at Chris, so I looked exuberant. "Hi," I said warmly. "How are you?" He was grinning this big stupid grin and parroted back, "Hi, how are you?" I kept smiling and walking off toward E and F. I bet Jerome is still asking himself why he couldn't say something slightly more interesting to me. Say the exact same thing back? Weird. But it was 1:30 in the morning and he was still working, trolling the halls in his suit. He must have been tired. God, he looked hot. And he totally walked close to me when he could have taken the long way. If I see him again I am going to stop and make chit chat. I was too drunk and in front of too many people that I care about to put the moves on him then. I'm running out of time.

I visited my Dubai girls. They are healthy and happy and I love them mercilessly. Can't wait to see you again the night of the 12th!

Love. Am I in it? Probably not. But I do really like Aroun (French guy #1). Last night we went out into the desert at 11. The moon was full and the sky was so clear we could see every detail of moon man's face. Aroun was really quiet and reflective looking. We stumbled over the dunes (I sank my foot into one up to my knee) and found a nice, high, quiet spot. We could still see the lights of Al Ain. We sat on a huge dune and I took my boot off to pour out the cup of sand that had seeped inside.

We chilled out and drank Schweppes lemon drink. We took some photos, which I'm about to develop, and talked a little about France and his friends. I told him the funny details of my liposuction surgery. He said I was pretty. I said he was evil.

The sand was like velvet. It's a mild terracota color in this area, and it's so fine I swept my hands over it for an hour. The feeling was so calming. I plunged my hand into the dune and dicovered that the inside was warm. Like a womb! It was midnight, but the heat from the day was trapped deep in the sand. The desert is an awe-inspiring place.

Around midnight three dune buggies revved through the silence. We watched their lights zoom up the steep sides of the dunes and then disappear, plummeting down the opposite sides. The daredevils kept it up until 1, when we decided to head back home.

After two hours of sweet romantic bliss, we drove back to Al Khayal and I taught him a new sex position.

I will really, really, really miss this man.

Oh Holy Jesus. OK, so the French guy I'm seeing came over tonight. He is acting super-smitten with me, so I am tres contente. Anyway, Aunt Flo is visiting so nothing dirty was going on, and he said he would like to sleep over. I love that. I don't especially like sleeping lonely every night. It's now 4:19 in the morning and I'm typing this blog. This is because at 3:45 he finally gave up trying to sleep and said he needed to go back to his own bed. This is especially amusing because I know that he sleeps with little earplugs in his ears. He told me that he couldn't sleep at my place because the ticking of the clock and the air conditioning hum were driving him nuts. No problem. I didn't pout at all, the sentiment was there. Anyway, he picks his shorts up and shakes them. Not clangy jangle of the keys. Where are your keys? "Impossible!" he mutters in his sexy French accent. "Non! I must have zem!" No fucking keys. How is he going to explain that one? Uh, it's 4 in the morning and I just realized that I don't have the key to my room. Where have I been all night? Oh, in the room of a female student. Why? Is that wrong? Yeah, well, at least frowned upon. So anyway, I went downstairs to reception to lie and say that I was visiting my girlfriend downstairs all night and locked myself out of my room (the key they would give me in this situation opens all the doors on the third floor, so we could use it to open his room). No one was at reception and the door was locked, but I could have feasibly jumped over the counter. I decided I really didn't want to do that. So I came back upstairs, told him to go down and jump over the counter in the lobby, and go to bed. So he just did that. I heard him crashing through his door 10 minutes ago. It's really a blessing he gave up and wanted to leave. If he had needed to ask for the master key at 9 in the morning, they would have totally realized something crazy was up. What a loser! How sloppy of him to forget his god damn key! Well, hopefully nothing like this will happen again.

Oh a happy note, I went to the pharmacy to get birth control today. I heard you can get it without a prescription. Anyone who lives in Britain or England knows what a bitch that is to achieve. Appointments, charges, bus rides, chemists that close at six when you score the scrip at 5:55. Ugh. Anyway, I trundled over there and asked for my concoction. My jaw hit the floor. Nine dirhams and 50 fils per month. That is $2.60 for a whole month's supply. In the U.S. it runs toward $40, so this is a STEAL. I said, "Can I buy six month's worth?" He shrugged, whatever, buy as much as you want. Holy fucking shit! So I did. And tomorrow, I'm going over there to buy 12 fucking more. I just hope I'm not one of the unfortunates who gets their shit searched upon entry into the U.S. I don't want them fucking confiscating my baby repellent.

OK, pretty boring day so far. Looked at blog, no one commented, was depressed. Went to lunch. Ate meat. Took bath, exfoliated liberally, whitened teeth. Rubbed self tanner all over body. Washed hands vigorously in an attempt to ward off orange palms. Future plans: clean apartment, get hair blown straight at Al Ain Bridal Saloon (wear you can buy a wedding gown while you are getting your legs waxed) and go to Rotana bar. Get earring repaired that French guy broke when he was nibbling my ear.

We have never been to Rotana bar, so we are v, v excited. Chris is coming, so the running commentary on prospective prostitutes should be amusing.

Maybe French guy will take me to the desert; these plans are not in stone.

In the further future: fly to England May 21, have a horrible time.
Fly to Germany May 24, have a good time
Drive to Italy with my momster May 26, fight a lot and buy stuff
Return to Germany someday
Fly to England June 9
Fly to L.A. June 10
Take care of Grandma, who may have Parkinson's disease
Become a famous and well-paid plus-size model
Move to Florida
September: when am no longer a famous plus-size model (these things don't last long) go to American University of Sharjah and marry a handsome Emirati sheikh
Rest of Life: Fight with his family, who will never accept the American bitch who can't pronounce Arabic phrases in the way Allah intended

Woo Hoo! Fun night in Al Ain! OK, so after the last post (made on lightning fast internet connection at Al Ain Mall) we went to go see our grown-up Iranian friends at the Intercontinental Hotel. They are so sweet. Esmail and Fatima are lovely people. We dropped in for about 20 minutes and the lady got to converse with my friend who took Farsi at Harvard. I felt all warm and tingly inside for her.

Then we went to Arabesque, where the HOT French guy works. (M, this is your cue to comment about how hot he is). We ate the lovely buffet, but I was feeling kind of poorly and didn't 'dig in' in the manner I normally would have. Anyway, there were six of us; Molly, Angela, two Dubai chicas, Chris, and me. Of course, Hot French guy showed up and everyone checked him out. In retrospect, I was looking like a freak because I was wearing an abayah, but I don't care because otherwise my green bra straps would have shown. M went up to the buffet to get a closer look, and the other M got a closer look at the scar over his nose (she thinks facial scars are v, v sexy).

M asked him to get her a spoon for something and he was very serious and apologetic about there not being one there for her to use. Ridiculous. Anyway, the other M thinks he's gay. I don't know. I hesitate to guess.

So I made a plan. Chris, get up to go to the bathroom and lean down and kiss me on your way out. "What?" He squealed. I gave him my evil slitty eyes. "Just do it!" OK, OK, but I'm gonna laugh. So anyway, he got up, leaned over, mumbled, "OK, I'm gonna go to the bathroom," and kissed me on the cheek. I totally cracked up. But mother fucking French guy didn't look up from the Parisian Tat he was reading to even notice. God damn it. All that gone to waste.

Later, when we got up to leave, our group walked right past HF guy out the door. I turned, caught him looking straight at me, and I gave him a little smile. I just did it for a second, so I don't know if he smiled back, but he didn't growl at me so I will take that as a good sign. Maybe next time I go to Intercon he will say Bonjour... It won't be anytime soon because I am bleeding all over the place!!!!!! It is disgusting. I can't swim.

Oh, plus the girls met the other French guy that I see all the time. He was so funny! He came over here to say hello wearing his trousers pulled up too high and his shirt tucked in too severely. Later I picked on him. "Could you have tucked your shirt in any tighter?" He was like, "Quoi???" What??? He just likes to look neat. He was looking kind of nerdy, but whatever. He is still cute. He just needs me to dress him. And that short sleeve shirt his was wearing did NOT do justice to his muscles. C'est la vie.

There are little disappointments throughout life. This morning, flipping through the channels in Dubai, we found Gummy Bears on TV! I was so, so excited. It's the best cartoon ever. 'Guuuummmmy Bear! Bouncin' here and there and everywhere! Flyin' adventure that's beyond compare, we are the Guuummy Bears!' And then I realized, something's wrong. That AIN'T ENGLISH. The damn cartoon was in Arabic. So I pouted for the rest of the morning.

But my two girls came to Al Ain! I'm so excited! We went to coffee, they saw my apartment, met my friends! It was all last minute and we're having fun. I swear they only came because I promised them that there was internet here. This generation NEEDS internet. How did we ever live without it?

Hmmm, Chris is back from Greece. I am happy. He is fun. He already embarassed me in a public place, and I like that.

We are all going to dinner at the Intercontinental. I told Chris that if HOT FRENCH guy shows up, Chris has to pretend like he wants me really bad and touch my knee in full view of the cruel man. He agreed. He likes to play dirty.

I'm heading out in May. Then I'll see my momster. The plan is to go to America in June. When I get to L.A., I'm going to go to Wilhelmina and Ford and find out if I can get some modeling work. I always wanted to do that, and now that there is a plus size industry and I'm the right size for the jobs, I wanna do it. Regardless, I'll sign up at temp agencies and join Actors Guild so I can be an extra in some movies. Then I'll be posting on here what films to watch out for so you can see me on the big screen.

I'm almost, very nearly, not too far from, Happy.