In cognito and on a roll

Me and my new brunette self have been travelling the globe in disguise. I'm a closet American, a former blonde and a secret sleeper. Although to some my accent gives me away and well my general bimbo qualities quickly betray the brunette job. To be honest, the dark circles aren't quite deep enough to convince people that I get NO sleep either. I would guess they have me pegged for 3 hours a night these days. SUCKERS! It's 4.

Anyway, being a closet American who has been in more then 5 countries in the last 6 weeks I have had the pleasure (or in most cases the disgrace) of listening in on a plethora of observations on the US elections. Thankfully I voted (absentee of course) before I left London. My friend who is Dutch, but lives in New York, happened to be visiting the weekend I filled out my ballot. She mailed it from the US for me, saving me extra postage and helping her be part of the US democratic process. Everyone's a winner. I had this horrible dream last week in Dubai. I was made redundant and got deported. I was staying with a friend in the US and working at Starbucks. Even the short time I worked there (via my dream this is) I was already irritated at the stupid people who use needless adjectives to order. Dry? Extra Hot? Why do these things make your coffee better I ask? And ask I did, I think I was on the verge of being fired from Starbucks. Clearly I am even grumpy in my dreams. Anyway, Cricket Boy could not come and join me as McCain and Palin had won the election and clamped down on immigration. Plus my friends cat has a hard enough time being nice to me, I doubt she would adapt to someone who didn't sneeze violently everytime she was near. About this election, everyone has an opinion. And share they do. It's like a damn has broken when someone blows my cover and outs me as an American. Week before last at a dinner in the Middle East a Lebanese, Jordanian, Palestinian and Egyptian were sat with me. A Canadian walked by and ratted me out. They all started shouting (in the nicest way possible of course) asking who I voted for etc, but before I could answer they were all up in my face with their feelings on the election, the electoral college, the democratic process and McDonald's (don't ask). They got so distracted amongst themselves I never had to answer the question.

On a secondary topic, it's amazing how liberating it is to completely change your look in 3, erm ok 4.5 hours. I always love being a woman, but I especially love it now. Apparently I look really different. Multiple people over the last three weeks have said they didn't recognise me. SWEET! And while I am on the topic of hair, who told men they could wear head bands? In a business meeting. With a corduroy jacket. I won't mention which country this was in for fear of being mobbed by the crazy blog police who love certain countries and think I am bashing them. I'll give you a hint though, it rhymes with furkey.

Lastly and then I will shut up, I would like to make a small shout out/request. Can whoever stole my identity to buy an O2 mobile do me a few favours? Next time pick a nicer one. Seriously, it's embarrassing to have that piece of junk associated with my name. Also, can you put some money in the bank for me, call my Gran pretending to be me and pick up my dry cleaning? Thanks!

Just so you know, that's not actually a photo of me and my new hair. Just in case you were confused or wondering.

Repent

Guilt, the gift that keeps on giving. My very Catholic grandmother bestowed on me the gift that lasts a life time. And while I don't consider myself Catholic, or Christian or Jewish or anything really, I was reared in synagogues and churches of all the above. I also consequently was brought up in the school of hard knocks with the philosophy that Jose and Jack can pretty much cure all that ails and if that fails, head for Columbia. You see one side of my family was very religious. They didn't all necessarily believe the same things, but they all believed in God and for my mums best friend Challa bread as well. My father and his side of the family however could not have been less religious, which is where I was taught to rely on Jose and Jack. In fact dad's brother had a dog called Heineken. And no I am not kidding, they were classy like that. I don't talk about it much, but all of the above differences are what drove my parents from each other and ultimately from me in some way or another. But guilt, the guilt of all the beliefs has stuck with me through thick and thin. I even have the uncanny ability to feel guilty for what others should feel bad for but don't. I have severely digressed from my point, which was to say, that even though I haven't had a proper day without work since I was in Indonesia, I feel guilty that I am sat outside at Starbucks working rather then in my hotel. The weather is perfect in Dubai at the moment and I can't bear the thought of spending another day chained to my hotel room desk with the air conditioning blasting down on me. So alas, I am at Marina Walk with a very large iced vanilla soya latte working. And apparently getting distracted by updating my blog. And I feel guilty for that. And each time the prayers broadcast loudly with their melodic chorus and fluid rhythm, it reminds me that:

I forgot to pay my dry cleaners before I left
I forgot to return a DVD
I forgot what CB asked me to get him for xmas a couple of weeks ago
I owe my friend £5 from lunch a couple of weeks ago
We haven't had a girls night out in ages and it's my fault
I shouldn't have been so mean to that poor man who was shouting at me yesterday calling me useless. He was only expressing his feelings!
I shouldn't have eaten that hamburger on Wed
I should drink less
I should run more
I need to call my brother
I need to call my grandmother

From Islam to Judaism to Catholicism to Jose-There is always SOMETHING to feel bad about. Thanks Gram.

Mercury in Retrograde

I don't even know what that means aside from the fact that my life is loaded with indecision and deals hanging in the balance. I have several mates fasting for Yom Kippur and I have asked them to put in a good word for me. I am going to try to enjoy my last weekend in London before setting off for a few weeks of business travel. I am also re-branding myself this weekend. Girl Friday goes brunette. So this time next month I could be a whole new me. In life and in looks. Watch this space.

To Bin or Not to Bin

CB and I are planning to live in sin. Co-habitat. Shack up. It may take awhile for all pieces of the puzzle to come together logistically, but I am very excited about it. In contrast to the other times I have made this decision, I know it's for the right reasons this time and that we are working toward mutual goals and a shared future. I got to thinking a couple of weeks ago, about the ex files. I normally never even think about the small box of mementos I have kept from each of my significant relationships. When I say small, I mean seriously small. Smaller then a shoe box. I also have a massive (shoe size) box of cards, letters, theatre tickets, concert tickets etc which have nothing to do with romantic relationships. I am not a pack rat by any means, but I guess I hold on to these little things because they create a sense of history for me that moving about a lot can negate. So with each move, these have come with me and typically they get put up in a cupboard or on a bookshelf somewhere. Something tells me that I need to get rid of them now with the M word being discussed and the B word chasing its tail. Any burning thoughts on this?*

*I am not sure if anyone even reads my blog anymore, but I guess this will be a good barometer for whether or not I carry on writing. Although, who am I kidding. I talk to myself, I would likely write to myself even if I knew no one was reading.