I just couldn't help myself.
If you don't want to read anything about Muslims/Iraq/United States and the whole deal, read no further.
If you're still reading, carry on. *grin*

The past year hasn't exactly been a happy picture for Muslims, they've killed and they've been killed. And I don't exactly agree with mass killings, be it on US soil, be it 'collateral damage' in Afghanistan or further, the prospect of thousands of dead Iraqis.

And it just doesn't help the situation when there's obvious double standards.

They'll ask you, "Why is the U.S. like this with North Korea, and why do they absolutely want to attack Iraq?" [...] that's proof, you see, that the U.S. is not interested in disarmament, it's just interested in getting its hands on oil. - CNN Correspondent Rym Brahimi

I wish the world was fairer. I know that there are millions who don't want any more bloodshed. And I also know that there's a lot we can do about it.

Love y'all anyway.

It's true.
There's quite a few Indian women out there who've spent more on "fairness creams than on saris".
And it's not just the Indians.
The whole subcontinent suffers from the same obsession, the sizeable chunk of prime-time viewing being sponsored by fairness creams in Pakistan never ceases to amaze me.
And it's not just the fairness creams.
All of a sudden, there's a huge increase in the number of blue-eyed, brown-skinned, blow-dried-dead-straight hair people. Why?

My dorm mate Alia suggested it was a direct consequence of colonialism:
Colonialists = Superior Race
Colonialists = White
White = Superior

*Sigh*
Believe me when I say, you're gorgeous honey, whatever color you, your hair or your eyes are.

I love you, Benetton.

I missed it.
I blew it.

I know that you didn't shop before Christmas and the very next day, all of you smart, conniving, devious people turned up in droves to shop at stores with these huge bargains as I watched you in horror on the telly. It ain't fair that there's no Boxing Day sales in Dubai.

BUT, you should also know (and I don't care if this sounds like a case of sour grapes) that:
(a) I am being fed with the most amazing of culinary delights courtesy my mom,
(b) I get to hangout with my huge lovely family,
(c) I might even get to go on a desert safari (HAH! While you eat snow).

So there!
EAT SNOW!

And oh yeah, I just remembered. Who cares about Boxing Day when Dubai's a 'shopper's paradise' and the Dubai Shopping Festival's just around the corner.
I've turned the tables now.
I Win.

It feels good for a change, not to be greeted by heyooj posters of (the oppressed) scantily-clad women as soon as you step out of the airport.

YES. I'm back in Dubai.

And if you've been wondering where the *beep* I've been, I should tell you this: Try juggling a part-time job, during your final year of chemical engineering and a couple of other things too, which I can't disclose right here. Plus, in case you didn't know, here's a news flash: I DO Have a life, and I'm not some geek who spends ages on the net. [Yeah, I know I used to spend half my life on the net, but that was last year. It's TRUE!]

IF New Moon = Visible in your Area THEN
    Eid Mubarak to you with lots of love from me
    and 2 pats on the back for fasting for a whole month.
ELSE
    Go on, fast another day, stop thinking about Eid
    and get on with your work, you dosser.
END IF

You get on the Bus. You spot a vacant seat, and rush to the seat to bag it.
Why does it feel so wet? Your friend suggests that it's only because it's cold.
But then..you realize, with horror, that the pleasant looking lady who vacated the seat for you lost control over her bladder before she left.

Believe me, this is a TRUE story courtesy of my friend Eunice.
Eunice agrees with me when I say that she should wear surgical gloves when she gets on the bus in case you want to hold on to those unsterile handles. According to her "You never know where people's hands have been". She's right.

Don't you ever check your desk, the floor, the seat itself before sitting down in the lecture theatre? I do. Call me paranoid, but honey I don't want no chewed gum sticking on my clothes, my boots brushing with someone's 'sick' and other icky things.

I'd rather go to the lecture theatre and on the bus wearing a space suit.

I know I sound nice, Mr. Pharmacist, but you don't have to flirt with me when I'm trying to sell you a blood glucose meter.