Driven by Curiosity…

I realize I am a bit bitchy when I write…. I made a holly promise to be less sarcastic in my entries… but honestly this entry wrote itself without my approval!

My grandmother called me yesterday, telling me that my best friend called her home asking for me (apparently very old friend, as I moved out of that house before 7 or 8 years). The friend told her that she is my best friend, and that we are very close, and that she is getting married and she wants to invite me to her wedding! Obviously teta (grandma) grilled the poor thing and asked her about her history and the history of her fiance’s family. She finally concluded that this best friend has got herself a catch an engineer (yikhzi il 3ein!) from an important and old family, apparently they date back before the prophet Noah existed!

Teta was very excited about the message but there is one tiny liiiiiittle problem, she could not remember the name of the best friend or the name of her fiancé or where or when is the wedding!

I could not sleep after this weird message, my best friend is getting married and I have to find a nice dress, and sexy shoes and suitable make up and jewelry… my God the jewelery is important. the world is not enough for me to express my happiness, my best friend is getting married (I have two tear rolling) I will dance the night away in my best friend’s wedding! But in order to do so, I need to send out an email, asking everyone I know if they know of any upcoming weddings of a possible best friend! which will be challenging as this is the “MATING” season in Amman. there is a wedding on weekly basis, if not more.

If anyone knows please let me know!

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I had a meeting at the bank today, I ,as a matter of fact, got to meet a very senior person at the bank to convince him to do get in touch with his charitable self and co finance our project. Obviously his charitable self has been dormant too long and could not be awakened by my CHIC begging skills. But he asked a little bit about my experience and I managed to awaken his recruiting self when I told him about having worked in a bank in the past. His witty self (which does not exist) got so intrigued in the long philosophical discussion we got into, about the risk and quality and whether they are in line or work against each other. I managed to impress the hell out of that guy, probably because I was not interested in any jobs at the bank and probably because I was having a cool arrogant attitude. You cannot imagine how good it was for my self-esteem when the guy told me I have a MASCULIN brain! ( bala ghafieh!)

Walking in that AWFULLY dreary, dark, place reminded me how much I hated being at a bank. Banks usually are very unfriendly, cold and dark (from all the depressing colors their walls have to be beige and brown). Full of old men with bushy moustaches and fat bellies, sitting behind big ugly desks, sending millions of unnecessary emails and writing billions of unnecessary memos (mostly to get credit) wearing dreadfully un colorful outfits! Giving anyone slightly colorful THE look Because they do not believe anyone who is capable of being colorful and does not have a moustache (although I can almost swear that I saw a woman with a moustache! and she definitely had a belly) can be more than a sweet butterfly frittering her time at some low level job! EKH… I just developed a bankophobea!

(Please God do not punish me and make me work at a bank! I really would hate to grow a moustache)

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