Monday, December 25, 2006

Ho ho ho (heh)

Christmas used to be one of my favorite holidays when I was a child. Of course, growing up in the States had a lot to do with that. We always had the prettiest tree and the stuffiest... most stuffed.. erm, FULLEST stockings and the best presents ever. Mom and dad made sure to take care of that for us, and we'd celebrate Christmas not as a religious, spiritual, birth-of-Jesus-the-Christ day, but rather, a yay-we-get-toys day.

I don't know if we ever tried convincing my younger brothers that Santa was real, but I'm pretty sure that I never had the luxury of knowing the big jolly man in the red suit actually existed. Despite going to take pictures on his lap every Christmas at either Macys or JC Penny or whatever and whispering in his ear (creepy!) what we wanted that year while he got to decide whether we'd been naughty or nice (double creepy!), I knew he was fake. My parents never hid that from me.

I blame them for my cynicism.

Heh, in fact... they used to buy us presents and come home with bags and bags of goodies. We'd SEE them come back with the presents, right? Then they'd sneak into their room, gift wrap our gifts and put them under the tree with a note that read, "To BintBuNaz, from Santa."


Ahh, young parents.

Anyway, Merry Christmas and happy holidays to all y'all that celebrate it. Hope you stay safe, warm and slightly drunk.

For all of you that don't celebrate, then ... erm, yay for Mondays? I guess.

"The Supreme Court has ruled that they cannot have a nativity scene in Washington, D.C. This wasn't for any religious reasons, but because they couldn't find three wise men and a virgin."

Thursday, December 21, 2006

I need inspiration, people

New Years is right around the corner, and I still haven't the faintest idea what-how-who-where I'm going to be celebrating.

If I remember correctly, I always get really panicky the last week before the New Year, cause I feel like I have to end the year with style and start the new one with a bang.

And then I do, and it's the same shit, but a year later.

Maybe I've just gotten too old for New Years celebrations?



Anyway, what are YOUR plans for ringing in 2007?

"Youth is when you're allowed to stay up late on New Year's Eve. Middle age is when you're forced to."

Thursday, December 14, 2006

The Devil Wears Pastels

Seriousy, has anyone else noticed that? Oprah's ALWAYS in pastels. Probably another reason I can't stand her. You can't ALWAYS wear pastels. In fact, you should never wear pastels.


Fantastic website The Beast recently (or not... this is from 2005) counted down the 50 most loathsome people in the United States, and I was thrilled to see Fauxprah had made the cut.

This woman is so irritatingly ... something... it just makes my blood boil.

Yes, I KNOW she's given and she's made and she's done and she's had and she's blaaaaahbitty blah blah. But everything about her screams FAKE! FAKE! FAKE! And she's so tirelessly condescending, it's a wonder her own inflated ego hasn't smacked her upside the head yet.

She gives, but she makes you feel bad for taking.
She jokes, but she makes you feel bad for laughing.
She talks, but she makes you feel bad for listening.

And she wears pastels ALL THE DAMN TIME.

So, yeah... I couldn't let this one go without a mention.

Here's Oprah's entry:

Oprah Winfrey

Charges: Winfrey's entire life is an exercise in self-aggrandizement, from the TV show which tells us what to read and how to live to her eponymous magazine, every issue of which features her smug countenance on its cover. More than just another insufferable Hollywood egotist, Oprah is something more akin to a housewife messiah, providing false hope and faux spirituality for experience-deprived worshippers. Everything she does is strategically designed to draw more praise, more devotees, and of course more money. Recently had celebrated poet Maya Angelou on her program to promote her new poem, which Oprah read for the audience as if she wrote it herself, as she seems to actually believe.

Exhibit A: Dr. Phil.

Sentence: Crushed by self-commissioned 40-story platinum Oprah statue.

BintBuNaz says: Amen!

"I'm the King of the World."

Sunday, December 10, 2006

Snippets I

The National Assembly's Legislative and Legal Committee approved a draft law today amending Article 198 of the Penal Code on dishonorable acts to fine 'public displays of homosexuality.'

I wonder how much it's gonne cost to be gay now.
- - - - -
So, I love movies, right? I love them a lot. And I consider myself to be somewhat of a film snob. But lately -- let's say the past 6 months or so -- I don't think I've seen a single film. Not a one. Why?

Because of TV shows on DVD.

Sweet mother of Christ (that would be Mary!), what an obsession that has turned out to be. I can't get enough. I'm watching so many shows and trying to keep up with so many plot lines, my head's about to explode.

Currently, I'm following:

* Lost
* Nip/Tuck (season 4)
* Heroes
* Jericho
* Prison Break
* Grey's Anatomy
* Arrested Development (I've already watched the three seasons like, 8 times, but I can't get enough of this show and I REALLY think someone needs to find a way to get it back on air, ASAP)
* Robot Chicken (yeeheehee!)
* Weeds
* Entourage
* The Nine (despite the fact that I know it's been canceled already :)
* Veronica Mars (season 3)
* Desperate Housewives (season 3)

I also work from 11am (uh.. if I'm awake in time) till approximately 9pm six days a week, and then there's the obligatory 'going out' before heading home anywhere between midnight and 2am. Which means I can really only watch my shows between the hours of 2am - 6am. Hence the sometimes not waking up for work on time.
I've totally effed my sleeping schedule -- my brain does not compute the idea of falling asleep before 5am anymore. No matter HOW tired I am, my brain continues to fight.
"But it's still early!" it nags.
"But I'm TIRED!" I think.
"I don't really give a crap," it concludes.

Stupid brain.
- - - - -
Next time I go to the ATM and my money comes out, I'm gonna start screaming, "I won! I won!"
- - - - -
So, I'm contemplating moving to London for a year. I'm having a love affair with that city and when I'm not there, I miss it like it were family. I was last there in September and even managed to meet up with a few possible employers and all I got were positive responses.

When I came back, I made a mental note that by June '07, I would be in London. Then, of course, procrastination kicked in, and now I know I'll never make that goal. But still, the idea won't erase itself from my head.

I'm thinking I'd like to be sponsored. At first I thought of asking my boss to send me on the company's account -- you know, go out there for a year, do an internship, learn a thing or two, and then come back and make Kuwait a better place. Then I remembered who I work for and started giggling manically until I depressed myself.

So now I'm thinking of setting up a Send BintBuNaz To London foundation where you can all chip in and help make my dreams come true.
- - - - -
And finally, if Tuesday Weld married Hal March III, she'd be Tuesday March 3.

"That's the difference between me and the rest of the world -- happiness isn't good enough for me. I demand euphoria."

Wednesday, December 06, 2006



So, I've totally forgotten how to add the 'Blogs I Read' list to my page.

Someone log onto my account and do it for me?

Or, you know, give me a step-by-step lesson?

Or just remind me?

Or buy me the new Limited Edition Louis Vuitton purse?

Thanks much!
"Funny, I don't remember being absent minded."

Monday, December 04, 2006


You know, for the most part, I'm a nice gal.

I'm friendly; I smile at random people; I pretend to care when someone drones on and on about how cute their child is or how fantastic their new car is or how hot their boyfriend is; I laugh at jokes even if they aren't that funny.

Seriously -- being nice is in my blood.

And I try my hardest not to bitch and whine and complain all the time, because I certainly don't want to be known as 'that girl.' Everyone knows a 'that girl,' and generally, she's not very pleasant to be around, is she?

Well, I'm sure even the Pope is allowed a shitty day every now and again, so please allow me mine. Not that I had a shitty day, mind you. Not at all, actually. But still, I do have something to complain about, and now that I'm back to blogging -- y'know, the Mother Of All Places To Bitch & Rant -- I can get it off my chest and you can all nod in agreement.

Because, really, why would you ever not agree with me?

== begin rant==

So, dad's screening was today. The SMS I got inviting me to the event, as well as the several people I had spoken to regarding the ceremony, said that it would begin at 730pm. In Kuwait, that usually means it would begin anytime between 815 and 845. So when I pulled up at 804pm, I wasn't worried that I'd missed THAT much.

As luck would have it, I walked in about 45 minutes into dad's film. Bizarre that they'd started so early, yet also fascinating. I didn't think much of it and took my seat and began watching.

I've seen the footage a thousand times and could practically quote the film at you, but at this screening, I couldn't hear a single word. Not because the volume was low or the quality was shitty. Nuh uh -- it was because the organizers had the sound turned up to a ludicrous level. When we were watching the MPs screaming and the protesters rallying, and when there were scenes with music or the narrator was narrating, I thought my ears were going to explode, it was so loud.

Did the organizers not for a second think to maybe, oh, I dunno.. turn it down a notch?

Fine, fine. Maybe I'm overreacting and I have sensitive ears and everybody else was hearing clearly and just fine.

What really irks me to no end is what happens at the end of what seems to be every film screening in this country, whether it's being held in private or being played in public theaters.


Why, why, WHY don't people understand this concept? WHY are we in such a rush to get to the buffet table, which is usually filled to the brim with crap food anyway? WHY won't you let the credits roll? In fact, in this particular case, WHY didn't you even let the film end??

The last scene of this film is probably one of the most important, but me and the 50+ others that were watching didn't get a chance to see it. Because with about five minutes to go before the movie actually ended and the credits begin to roll, the organizers slowly started to undim the lights and fade out the sound of the film. I couldn't quite understand what was going, but as it got brighter and brighter in the room, I remember thinking to myself, "Wait, wait... I'm sure they're not actually going to STOP the movie."

They stopped the movie.

Before the final scene. Before it ended. Before the credits rolled.

Even the audience seemed a little confused. At least, I hope they were confused and not thinking, "Huh? Wha? I wonder why Mr. Al-Zuhair chose to end his film like that."

And that's just the film.

After that, they began the official 'honoring' ceremony, and half the time we couldn't hear the names of the people cause the 'background' music was too loud, and the other half of the time, we couldn't hear their names because the girl presenting wasn't speaking directly into the microphone.

Good times.

Then the awkwardness. Maram walked out in her shiny pants and furry vest and very complicated boots to perform (why is it always Maram that performs at these events, anyway? I'm asking in all seriousness. Is she like, really beloved in this country? I'm serious. Someone explain this woman to me). I happened to be near the stage when she walked in, and I saw her give the most evil eye to the dudes in charge of her music. She had a smile plastered to her face (in case of photos, I presume), but death in her eyes.

"3alow il9ot. 3ALOW IL9OT!" she whispered through gritted teeth.

So, they did what she asked and 3alow il9ot.

Which is why we couldn't hear a word of what she was singing. The sound was too loud again.


Then everyone was rushed to dinner (again?? I dunno, maybe we weren't asked to go to dinner the first time. But I could've sworn we were).

Gah. It was just so messy and awkward and not professional and nothing like any social event that takes place anywhere else in the world.

And I'm not blaming those responsible. I seriously think this is a default burned deep into our psyches. When dad's first film was being shown around the country, the SAME THING happened during certain screenings.

Volume levels distorted; lights up and sound off before end of film; rushrushrush! to dinner.

Awkward. Uncomfortable. Painful.

That's how I've begun to feel about most social gatherings in this country.

== end rant==

So... yeah. How about a joke?

Q: ga6wa dashat 9aydaliya, laish?
A: ilbab kan imba6al.

"Frustration is the poor man's violence."

Sunday, December 03, 2006

You are cordially invited...

... so long as you don't tell anyone I invited you, cause I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to.

ANYWAY -- tonight (Sunday, December 3) at 730pm at Hayat Regency Hotel, there will be an honoring ceremony and Dr. Ahmad Al-Khatib will be there and I'm sure it'll be loads of fun and stuff.

More importantly, however, the first Kuwaiti screening of 'When The People Spoke 2' by my pops will also take place. As most of you know, dad debuted his film at the NUKS conference in NYC last week (I'm sure my invite was just lost in the mail or something... ), and he's still there, trying to get back to Kuwait. Flights are getting canceled left and right due to the weather conditions out there, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he'll make it in time.

In any event, I did ask one of the guys responsible for this ceremony about invites and whatnot, and he told me that while they've sent out official invitations to certain members of the community, it pretty much is first come, first serve. If you can make it and find yourself a seat, then boy howdy! You're in!

Would love to see you guys there.

"The beginning is the most important part of the work."

Saturday, December 02, 2006


I said I'd be back, didn't I?

I'm funnier, pinker, and more modest than ever.

Of course, I assume my dad's gonna be reading (nudge nudge, wink wink), so I may have to censor myself before I hit that 'publish post' button.

NOTE TO DAD: Not that I'd EVER have anything to hide from you. (insert giant smiley face)

And just for old times' sake:
If Woody Allen married Natalie Wood, divorced her and married Gregory Peck, divorced him and married Ben Hur, he'd be Woody Wood Peck Hur.

"Some editors are failed writers, but then again, so are most writers."