Untamed Shrew

Hi there,

This blog has moved here

5 Reasons being a woman sucks.

Apparently, I was exposed to high levels of testosterone in the womb. This could be why I often find myself thinking I would rather be a man.

When I say this in public, people seem surprised and sometimes even offended. But being a woman really is quite rubbish. Here are just a few reasons why:

1.       It is unacceptable to have hair anywhere on your face besides your eyebrows. This takes work.

2.       PMS. And not just before your period. Most of the women I know seem to have PMS all the time.

3.       You can't win with breasts. If they're big, you get back problems. If they're small, you feel inadequate.

4.       Spending half an hour each morning sorting out your hair, make-up and outfit. According to my half-arsed calculations, this adds up to over 10,000 hours over the average woman's lifetime. By comparison, it takes 70 hours to get a private pilot's license. And about 1,700 hours of classes to get a Bachelor's degree. So in the time spent covering up zits and trying out different shoes with my outfit, I could have become a rocket scientist, a doctor and probably even travelled the globe on a donkey.

5.       The irrepressible urge to constantly complain. For example, this blog.

This video sums up my feelings perfectly:

Pop Culture Madness: Jordanian Elections Edition

Sometimes the most unlikely things make my day.

Today it was spotting this poster of Nuha Miqdadi, a Jordanian parliamentary candidate whose face is plastered all over Zarqa. Could anything be more symbolic of Jordan's identity crisis?

Is Nuha Miqdadi a conservative Muslim woman in a black hijab? A babe in red lipstick with a 'come hither' glance? A nationalistic Jordanian in a red keffiyeh? And most importantly, why is the keffiyeh wrapped around her head like a turban?

The optimistic among you might argue that Nuha can be all of these things at once. But can you honestly tell me that this doesn't look like a recipe for disaster?

Horny Saudi seeks 'bint el-halal' … but not really.

Any woman can tell you that receiving creepy messages from sleazy randoms on Facebook is nothing out of the ordinary. But last night, my friend SK received a message which really is just special. I couldn't help but post it.

(Apologies to English-speaking readers, but translating this would just kill it.)

مرحبا

أنا أحمد من السعودية أعيش حالياً في كندا وبالتحديد في تورنتو لأجل اكمال دراستي الجامعية، عمري 25 سنة.

أنا صراحة ابحث عن فتاة عربية مسلمة نتطبق عليها شروط الزواج العرفي وترغب في الزواج مني ... فأنا هنا في الغربه ومثلك يعرف الجو والتأثر فأنا ارغب بالإبتعاد عن الحرام وعدم الوقوع فيه فاتمنى الحصول على امراءه تقبل الارتباط معي بعقد متعة. وأنا اوعدها ان اني لا ابخل عليها بشيء وان تعيش معي حياة رائعة. وأن كانت ترغب في القدوم الى كندا فأنا مستعد اساعدها في ذلك. فإذا كنتي تقبلين فأنا سوف اكون سعيد واوعد بأنكي لم تندمي ابداً

انا في انتظار جواب
احمد

Wow. Who could possibly resist such an enticing offer?

PS. Check out this fantastic Facebook group I found! It's so brilliant, why does it only have 5 members?!

Rare case of 'Adult Tweeterrhea' diagnosed in Israel

While frittering my life away on Twitter, I recently came across the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs' account run by Chaim Shacham, the Director of Israel's 'Digital Diplomacy Department'.

As far as I can tell, it seems Shacham spends a lot of time online tweeting classic gems like "There is absolutely no apartheid" to an audience composed of an odd combination of ZioNazis, angry dyslexic muhajababes and Guardian-readers channeling ennui with their dull upper-middle class existence into political rage.

Although to be fair, I'd be pretty frustrated too if I was a dyslexic muhajababe.

Muhajababes of the world untie!

This minute-by-minute regurgitation of Israeli government positions is impressive in the same way you would be impressed by someone who can projectile vomit on demand. Although it is an absolute a must-read for anyone who feels they aren't getting the Israeli side of the story (which explains why the account has a staggering 145 followers globally).

But regardless of one's political views, you have to give Mr. Shacham points for his energy. Most Twitter users who display such fervor are under the age of 16. And although he displays the same level of intellectual sophistication as fellow Tweetarrheans, he does manage to remain grammatically intact. So, I thought it would be great to interview him for this blog.

Me: What does Israel hope to achieve with digital diplomacy?

CS: We found that there weren't enough people online who feel the need to defend Israel's record of their own accord. So we decided to pay them to do it instead. Unfortunately, we are having difficulties getting paid staff to recreate the zealousness of obsessive laypeople who do this for fun. It seems to require characteristics only found in the chronically unemployed.

Me:What is the Israeli government's strategy in the current negotiations with the Palestinians?
CS: We intend to dazzle the world community by putting up a facade of distracting handshakes, photos-ops and press releases while continuing colonization from behind.

Me: Are you telling me that the Israeli position on settlements is doggy-style?                

CS: If you want to get technical, yes.

In the interest of unbiased reporting, I tried to get hold of the person in charge of the Palestinian 'Digital Diplomacy Department'. But despite several phonecalls to the Palestinian Ministry of Information to arrange an interview, I was unable to penetrate the defenses of the gum-snapping telephone operator who hung up on me repeatedly. They must be too busy preparing the ground for online revolution.

PS. Don't hate me Guardian-readers, I'm a Guardian-reader too!

Would you screen Facebook's calls?

Yesterday's post started a discussion between a friend and I about what Facebook would be like if it was an actual person.

First, we concluded that Facebook would be a woman. Sorry to perpetuate gender stereotypes, but no social networking site could be personified as a man unless it was about sex and/or gadgets and/or cars. (Although Twitter could be an exception, with its inability to listen for more than 140 characters).

So obviously, Facebook would be the nosey type. And oh, the gossip! She would be a terrible, yet extremely persistent, matchmaker. And she would keep reminding you of things you want to forget ever happened. But the worst part is that you would find yourself staying friends with her anyway.

On second thought, Facebook could be a man. But only if it was Perez Hilton.

PS. Quick shout out to the unfailingly witty AK whose comments inspired this post, and who will hopefully write a guest post soon!

Facebook made me do it.

Everyone does it. Don't pretend you don't. I, for one, am willing to admit that I occasionally 'peruse' the Facebook profiles of men I used to date. If you insist, we can call it 'stalking'.

I do find it disturbing that the online equivalent of peeping through your ex's window has become borderline socially acceptable. But what is more disturbing is that Facebook seems to be encouraging this behaviour.

Recently, a box called 'Photo Memories' has started showing up while browsing Facebook. I'm pretty sure it is no coincidence that most of these photos are of people I used to stalk on Facebook (i.e. ex-boyfriends). Basically, Facebook is like one of those dodgy friends that encourages you to drunk dial your ex at 3am.

I looked it up and the problem seems to be that the Facebook algorithim is not very good at figuring out how human relationships work. The 'Photo Memories' pictures are selected because you used to show an interest in the profiles of people tagged in them. So while your friends can grasp that you no longer want your ex's face randomly popping up on your computer screen, the Facebook algorithm hasn't quite got there. Basically, Facebook is like a socially inept friend that encourages you to drunk dial your ex at 3am.

So the next time Facebook prompts you to stalk an ex, just think how you would feel about a moronic friend encouraging you to drink-dial that person.

Psychological Turbulence

I hate sitting still for long periods of time. Other things I hate include: crying children, slimy food and being forced to make small talk with boring and/or creepy people. Now combine all of these and you have the recipe for my personal hell.

This also happens to be the recipe for Royal Jordanian flights from Amman to North America.

A few weeks ago, I packed my bags, went to the airport and boarded a flight to New York. Predictably, as soon as the plane took off, the man in front of me reclined his seat all the way back and – as if on cue – the child behind me began kicking my seat repeatedly. Meanwhile, the obese man on my left nervously looked out the window and started practising heavy breathing exercises. As the folds of flesh hanging out over his armrest heaved up and down with his breath, I slowly inched away, pressing myself against the other side of the chair.

So there I sat: armrest digging into my side, trying to block out the beginnings of a loud theological debate between two bearded men across the aisle. And that was just the start of my fourteen hours of misery.

Then it occurred to me. Objectively, the actual flight experience is not that bad. But cram hundreds of people together in a confined space for a few hours and you automatically amplify every one of their annoying traits. The real reason these flights get under my skin is that they are a caricature of everything that irritates me about the Arab character. Here are a few examples:

Annoying trait #1: Invasion of personal space

My nervous neighbour took this one literally when he squeezed me into a corner of my seat. But even more irritating is the insistence on having prolonged, invasive conversations with whoever happens to be sitting next to you. What does my father do for a living? Where is my family originally from?

There is certainly no shortage of such busybodies in the Arab world. These are the people who try to marry you off to their third cousin within five minutes of meeting you. The ones who think business meetings are an appropriate time to relate their life story in excruciating detail. Yes, these are the people who turn your daily social interactions into an awkward cringe fest.

Annoying trait #2: Overvaluing your own opinion

If your fellow Arab travellers aren't talking directly to you, they will still make sure you can hear them. You might not care about their opinion, but they will make sure you hear it anyway. Like the men on my flight imposing their religious debate on everyone in the vicinity. These people remind me of watching the Al-Jazeera current affairs debate show, "Al-Ra'i Al-Akhar". The viewer never quite figures out the participants' viewpoints because they are shouting over each other the whole time. (Although to be fair, if I didn't think so highly of my own opinion, I wouldn't be writing this blog).

Annoying trait #3:  "What’s mine is yours" (especially if it is my problem)

At some point during the flight, a woman handed her very young baby to the stranger sitting next to her. "Can you take care of him?" she asked rhetorically, not even waiting for an answer before she walked off to the bathroom. It is not the first time I have seen someone do this on a flight. But it is definitely something I have only seen Arabs do. On the plus side, this kind of behaviour is probably a by-product of Arabs' strong sense of community. I can even see how some might consider it a good thing. Unless you're the guy left awkwardly holding a snotty crying baby.

Years of experience have led me to the conclusion that the best coping strategy on these flights is to bury my face into a book and pretend that none of these people exist. If only there was a way to do that in everyday life.

Lady GaGa for President

Today I sat down at my computer with the intention of writing a blog post on the farce that is the latest round of Israeli-Palestinian peace negotiations. But as I started browsing the latest news coverage on the conflict, I came across a photo so disturbing that I felt compelled to change the topic of this week's post.

Please, can somebody explain to me what the hell is going on with Hilary Clinton's tangerine pantsuit?

I know Hillary Clinton has long been a fan of the vibrantly hued pantsuit (see below).  Like a male peacock during mating season, this helps her command the attention of those around her long enough for her to try to screw them. But this pumpkin-inspired monstrosity seems obscene even by Hillary's standards.

Regardless of your personal disposition towards Hillary, few would debate that she is a highly intelligent woman. Surely, this wardrobe choice must be a shrewd, deliberate political tactic? I have several theories:

1.       It is a ploy to stun and confuse Abbas and Netanyahu just long enough that they might agree on something. Seasoned political junkies among you might discern a look of acute unease mixed into Abbas' standard grimace in the photo of him and Clinton above. I reckon it is from the glare of her outfit.

2.       The madness inevitably inflicted by involvement in Middle Eastern politics is making Hillary resort to Gaddafi-inspired political tactics. First, check out this photo of Gaddafi with Silvio Berlusconi. Gaddafi has consistently proved that dressing like a lunatic can magically transform even the sleaziest political dirtbags in one's vicinity into appearing respectable and statesmanlike in comparison. Over the past few decades, this has been proved beyond a doubt by countless photo-ops of Gaddafi with a wide assortment of dodgy Arab and African dictators. Clinton's wardrobe choice could be a sneaky plot to help the rather mediocre figures of Abbas and Netanyahu achieve the stature they need to push through a  peace agreement. If it works, the best hope for achieving world peace might well be supporting Lady GaGa for US President in 2012.

3.       This is further evidence proving the theory propounded by Dinesh D'Souza in Forbes' a few weeks back, which claims that Obama's politics are motivated by an anti-colonial ideology inspired by his Kenyan father. Hillary might be trying to curry favour with her boss by taking style cues from African political elites (see photo below). Admittedly, this is the most tenuous of the three theories and needs more supporting evidence. Will keep eyes peeled for sightings of Hillary sporting extravagant head ornamentation.

Left to right: Chantal Biya (First Lady of Cameroon); Touré Lobbo Traoré (First Lady of Mali); Hillary Clinton

Seriously though, analyzing Hillary's fashion sense is a comforting escape from the depressing prospect of thinking/writing about the peace negotiations. Actually, there isn't a single thing I could write about the negotiations which has not been written a million times already. Bourgeois pseudo-intellectuals (myself included) analyze and pontificate on blogs, in newspapers and on TV. Peace talks come and go. Meanwhile, people in the Gaza Strip continue to languish in the world's largest open air prison and illegal Israeli settlements are being expanded in the West Bank.

Now back to the real issue. Thank God Michelle Obama ended up as the female resident of the White House. Imagine being subjected to Hillary's fashion sense every time you turn on the news.

Pop Culture Madness: Ramadan Edition

For the first time in a month, I arrived at the office this morning with a spring in my step and a snack in my handbag. That's right kids, Ramadan is officially OVER.

It's great to be back to eating whatever I like, whenever I like. But even better is the end of inane Ramadan TV specials that insinuate themselves into my life every year, despite my best efforts to avoid them.

Over the past few years, my main Ramadan TV gripe has been 'Bab El-Hara', a Syrian soap opera about a Damascene neighbourhood during the 1920s. For five years now, the combination of high drama and mediocre acting has proved irresistibly luring to millions of Arab viewers, many of whom do not stop talking about the latest episode for 24 hours- until the next episode airs.

Even those who aren't interested have Bab El-Hara thrust upon us. Forcefully beamed into our consciousness from café projector screens all over Amman. Kind of like the World Cup, but sadly without the suspense. Or the fit men in short shorts.

For those who haven't had the dubious pleasure of watching Bab El-Hara, all you need to know is the following:

1.       Mustachioed man gets angry at wife for [insert affront to manliness here].

2.       Mother/mother-in-law meddles.

3.       Man gets angrier, occasionally pulls wife's hair.

4.       Man takes another wife and/or divorces first wife.

5.       Mother/mother-in-law meddles some more.

6.       Man/wife kisses mother/father's hand and promises to do what he/she wants.

7.       Man and wife get divorced/back together.

Throw in the occasional bitch-fight between co-wives and knife fights/punch-ups between the male characters and you are all set. No need to actually watch Bab El-Hara. Ever.

One of the new additions to Ramadan screens this year was 'Zahra wa Azwajeha El-Khamsa' ('Zahra and her Five Husbands'). The star of the show is an Egyptian woman in clown make-up named Zahra, whose facial muscles are so immobilized by Botox that the most fascinating thing about the entire programme is that she is still capable of acting (albeit badly).

Zahra: Ramadan Hearthrob

My grandfather thinks the popularity of these shows is a symptom of Arab socio-political malaise. But to be fair, my grandfather is a grumpy old ex-communist who thinks everything he doesn't like is a symptom of Arab socio-political malaise. Maybe Arab TV networks have just realized that Ramadan is the perfect opportunity to foist subpar TV programming on a populace collectively stricken with mental stupor brought on by a combination of daylight starvation, Iftar food coma and nighttime arghileh binges.

PS. Apparently, I missed out on the best Ramadan TV offering of the year this time around: 'Awza Atgawez' ('I Want to Get Married'). I've been told that it's a genuinely funny Egyptian comedy about a single 30-something woman looking for the husband of her mother's dreams. Planning to pick it up on DVD tomorrow. Will keep you posted.

Refudiating Reason: Palin slides further down slippery slope of senselessness

It seems Sarah Palin is one step closer to following in the footsteps of her self-proclaimed "political heroine", Margaret Thatcher.

No, I am not talking about the possibility of Palin getting elected to high office. Like Thatcher in recent years, Palin seems to be suffering from the onset of dementia.


Granted, she did always have a head start. Many of those who have followed her career have long suspected she may have a couple of screws loose. Who can forget her contention during the 2008 presidential campaign that being Governor of Alaska gave her foreign policy credentials because "you can actually see Russia from land here in Alaska".

More recently, Palin's credentials as an easy target for ridicule were boosted when she tweeted that "peaceful Muslims" should "refudiate" the mosque being built in New York City near where the Twin Towers once stood. This latest Palin outburst inspired me to draw on my dubious skills as an amateur psychologist (I majored in psychology at university) to diagnose her mental condition. After extensive Googling, I have come to the conclusion that Palin is more likely to be suffering from schizophasia than dementia.

Schizophasia is defined as a mental condition which is characterized by incoherent babbling which is compulsive or intentional, but nonsensical. In most cases, the affected individual will reveal speech that is incessant and quick, derailment of idea flow, thought blocking, and the occurrence called ‘word salad’ wherein the words uttered may be intact, but the general thought is incomprehensible.

For example, take Palin's twitter response to the widespread mockery of her "refudiate" comment. Proudly mistaking her illiteracy for literary genius, she stated: "Refudiate,' 'misunderestimate,' 'wee-wee'd up.' English is a living language. Shakespeare liked to coin new words too. Got to celebrate it!"  

I could have forgiven her for "refudiate" but comparing herself to the bard himself definitely puts her beyond the pale. (By the way, Google says that delusions of grandeur are another common symptom of mental disorder).

Unfortunately, the main difference between Palin and typical sufferers of schizophasia is that her condition seems to be contagious, as attested to by the xenophobic mania that seems to be spreading through America like wildfire.