So, I'm back. The Original Krispy Dixie is back! I've been a little out of the scene recently, due to my annoying, itty-bitty cold which, unfortunately, turned into an even more annoying, not so itty-bitty flu!! As you may know, during my illness FB was forced to fend for herself with much drama ensuing. And for the record, I'm surprised she made it back to the apartment at all!! :P (Just kidding, C.C.!)

Anywho, so I'm back with a vengeance! Here's what's been going on...

FB nearly got her a** arrested today! The girl is camera-happy and I despise her camera! Seriously, that thing is the work of the devil! So, anyway, we're heading out of our building to go to lunch (The Bank of America building where we work) and they have this drab, tiny, L.A.M.E-a** christmas tree in the lobby.. seriously, the thing is hideous, but FB decides she wants to take a picture with it... and of course, as usual, I get commissioned to take the picture. Apparently, taking pictures inside the BoA building puts you in the same category as terrorists, rapists and serial killers 'cos no sooner had I taken the pic when this security guard pounced on us. I immediately pointed my finger at FB, thus indicating to the scary bald headed man that even though I was holding the camera, it was all FB's fault. So, he tells us, rather roughly, that taking pictures in the building is prohibited and that FB and I need to follow him to the security office!!! FB then attempts to square things with him by deleting the offending picture from her camera. So, the security guard leans over the camera and watches her delete the pic. Then, he gives us this weird look as if he's not totally convinced that the picture is gone which makes me not entirely convinced that he even knows how digital cameras work...

What's the deal with americans and their stupid rules? It's not like we were photographing the blue prints of the building! It was a damn christmas tree! It's kinda like that "Please, don't sit on the stairs rule" .... well, if you provided chairs maybe I wouldn't have to sit on the stairs!

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FB and I went to The Improv. And now, according to everyone who was present at the renowned comedy club last night, I am a kinky yet prudish, multiple-ly (?) tattooed, crazy, pot-headed lesbian!!! Allow me to explain.....

Before the show started, FB and I were hanging out in the bar. And these guys who worked there asked the question that, apparently, every person in New York feels the need to ask us....

"So, where are you ladies from?"

If I had a nickel for every time someone here has asked us that, I would have a shit-load of brand new Jimmy Choo's.

Now, FB and I have obviously discussed the possibility of lying when asked this question. We have made up countless stories and various sets of lineage in an effort to confuse and beguile the questioner, but so far, we’ve answered truthfully… for the most part…. Anyway, so we tell them we’re from Kuwait. We get blank stares from one of the guys, so I’m guessing maybe he doesn’t know where Kuwait is… The other guy starts telling us all this crap he knows about Kuwait! All bullshit, of course! But FB and I sit and smile, all the while attempting to clarify their view of our country… ok… maybe that’s not entirely true… I think they actually bought the part where FB lives in a tent held down by bags of gold and I live on an oil rig sucking the paper cuts I get from counting all my money…. So towards the end, I inadvertently insult one of them by insinuating... Ok, saying .. That there is no way in hell that he would be able to stay at The Arab Towers Hotel in the UAE.. long story short (which seems redundant at this point, I know).. they got mildly offended and ended up seating me in the hot seat! Meaning, I was smack-dab in front of the stage… i.e. I would be the person the comedians would pick on simply ‘cos I was the first thing they would see…. Which is how the above description of me came about… That’s basically the end product of them picking on me… by the end of the night, people were starting to give me weird looks and the guy who seated us in the beginning winks at me and goes: “What goes around, comes around, baby!”

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I’ve also been propositioned by a Turkish cab driver named Cinar…. Apparently, I should call him if I want to party….. hmmm...

Note to self: When lonesome and in need of party, call Cinar. ………………………………………………………………………………………………

Long post I know, forgive my long-winded..ness? :P


Karma is a bitch.

-Layla

21:35