Loudlady spells my name wrong. She sits across the room from me and can totally see my name tag from where she sits but she spells my name wrong in every memo she sends me.Bitch.
The only thing i like about my little cubicle is the little green ashtray on my desk. I dont smoke at work. So someday i will steal the ashtray. Loudlady talks with a ciggerate hanging from the side of her mouth. When she stuck her head into my cubicle the first time i thought she was a man wearing pink lipstick. And her laughter shakes the very walls of my little office.
I am bored. I want to go dancing in the rain. Or stand up on my desk and scream. My nine to five existance leaves no time for anything else. Sandal-Kurta boy has a crush on me. Everytime i look to the side i catch him staring at me. Maybe i should date him, convinient office lover.
Single girls can not be funny.
Office rules say that you can wear casual clothes on field days but he wears them everyday and no one tells him not to. And me..i cant eat pringles at my own desk.
I have a hangover that is concentrated in my left arm and a date at seven i want to get out of.
Okay, its the second day at my new job and i am bored already. Well, its not a real job anyway, its an empty desk at my dads office where i sit and do random things for him all day and get paid for it. I know i shouldnt be whinning since after the WHO episode it was pretty generous of dad to offer me a job.
See, what happened was that this French Lady was working in areas hit by the quake, so they hired me to translate for her..french to pashto or urdu and pashto or urdu to french. It was the perfect job, we got along really well...travelling through remote areas..interacting with local people..helping them out. But then one fucking fine day we went to a place near Balakot, she wanted to talk to the local women in this really narrow bazaar. They were selling these cute chappals and I got distracted...started talking to this nice old lady in pashto who told me i have beutiful feet. Half an hour later i realize i am supposed to be at work, i turn arround and i cant see the french woman anywhere. I spent the next hour looking for her and eventually left the bazaar to go back to balakot where we were staying. Three and a half hours later we went back in a WHO van and found her lost and confused.
They sent me back to Islamabad the next day.
The good thing about this new job is that i can not mess it up, partly because there is nothing to do. And i know my dad only did this to help me regain my self asteeem and that sadly makes me feel worse.
Anyway, our sunday rowing trip sucked. Daraishak bailed on me and i ended up helping the guys carry stuff from the cars to the lake. The new spot on the south side is real pretty but i preffered the one near bunny gala because you could bring the car right up to the dock. Now we have to take a dozen trips through the woods. The grass is damp and fatimas brother says he saw a cobra there. No one else belives him.
I was stupid enough to wear wear burmeudas and ended up having a zillion mosqitto bites all over my legs. The guys again used mud as an insect repelent, hamza's much shouted about theory that connects the smell of mud with keeping mosqittos away still makes zero sense to me but i have stopped telling them how stupid they are, instead i carry my own bottle of OFF! Deep woods. Yes, that is the name of the fucking thing. Daraishak bought it at a drug store in vermont and gave it to me as a souvenior because he found out that mud worked there too. But since i didnt get enough time to pack, i forgot to bring it along. Anyway the pictures came out beutifull and now that we have moved to a new spot they finally look new.
Oh and on Saturday we went to Usman's, i took hina, my cousin who is visiting from Boston along, the guys took turns to flirt with her because she looked so funny when she flirted back. I found it disgusting and slightly amusing at the same time.
Sahar learned today: Pringles count as lunch in this office and you can not have lunch at your desk.
I promised myself that if I ever make my own blog, i wont ever let it become a part of the whine fest that we have been seeing lately. But what can you do when you come home after a horrible day, your feet aching, your arms itchy, splotty and red from insect bites and your head filled with insults you heard being fired at you.??? You whine.
Or you take a long bath and go to sleep.
My mother always says "sleep on it. It will look better in the morning." So i will go to sleep now. But i dont think i can deal with another sticky, wet day. I am sick of the weather. Sick of my freinds.
I am reconsidering my plans already. Or my lack of plans.
Sahar learned today: When you do not make plans in your senior year and take the next year off. You feel worthless.
1.one of my heroes growing up were carmen miranda characters (yes, they count as one)
2.i speak pashto when i am drunk
3.i hate wearing socks
4.i sneak sushi into movie theaters
5.most of the nights in high school that i stayed home, i would just do my make up, wash it off and do that over and over and over again
6.i'm taller than both my grandmothers, one is from afghanistan and the other was born in spain
7.most people, including both family and strangers alike, ask me if my tattoos are real and i HATE that
8.i used to collect porcelain musical dolls
9.i don't like asparagus, green beans, cooked carrots, green/yellow/red peppers among others, but mostly those
10.i got a free ride through high school and graduated top of my class but i almost never did homework and i also never cheated on a test
11.i really don't talk all that often but i DO need to be talked to
12.i don't salt or pepper anything
13.my favorite color of nail polish is black, i like it when it chips
14.i am an only child, was born on a ship but grew up in a house full of step brothers and sisters
15.i still don’t know if i am going to college
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