Posts Tagged ‘family’
I’ve re-read chapter 16, but haven’t really had the time to write anything about it. Alas, I’ll just have to update you on how life is going.
I followed through with my new year’s resolution to join a gym. I’ve gone every day this week for a 30 minute morning workout. Still getting used to the whole being-naked-in-front-of-strangers / locker room thing. I would be the worst stripper ever. Seriously, if you ever needed to be reminded of how puritanical Americans are, the locker room’s the place to do it. A friend of mine shared her experiences in a Paris gym lock room — naked women hanging out, having conversations, showing one another dance moves they’d picked up in class. Yeeeeeeah. I need to be woman enough to do that.
Speaking of ye olde flesh, I’ve got the itch again. No, not that kind of itch. Gross. I’ve got the itch to get another tattoo. And I’ve already come up with the idea for it.
A couple of years ago, my mother and I were watching some nature show. They did a segment on peacocks mating — the males all feathered up and strutting, colors everywhere. My mom watched in awe and then sighed, “God truly does favor the men, doesn’t he?” In case you didn’t know, peahens don’t have the colors or the tail. Everybody’s always oohing and aahing about peacocks, and I doubt most people even know what a peahen looks like.
Anyway, what my mom said got under my skin. It pissed me off and made me sad at the same time. It’s one of those things that bothered me — probably a lot more than it should have, but whaddyagonnado? I argued with my mom for a while and finally convinced her that the stupid tail makes the peacock stick out and thus more likely to be killed and eaten.* Screw those guys. Viva la peahen.
For whatever reason, when I think feminism, I think peahens. (Don’t ask me — I’m not sure how my brain works either.) And it kinda bothers me a little when I see girls with peacock tattoos (pretty common, Google that shit). I’m not sure what keyword triggered this, but Google gave me this yesterday: Female Peacocks Not Impressed by Male Feathers. Pssh. Go, girls!
That got the old noggin whirring, and a decision was made: for my next double-middle-finger to the “good” lord, I’m getting a peahen inked on me. I told a friend about my plan and she had this to say: “It’s like telling society, ‘up your nose with a rubber hose.'” My friends are weird.
Anyway, chapter 16 will be up just as soon as I get around to writing about it. Stay tuned. And stay warm…it sucks out there.
* I don’t really know if that’s true, but those fuckers are just asking for it.
Hey check it out. It’s a real update! It’s late and I should be asleep, but my schedule’s been pretty out-of-whack since New Years’ Eve. I actually went out for a change, and I went a little overboard with the drinking. OK fine. I went WAY overboard with the drinking. KafirBoy and I have a shared BFF who was visiting from Minnesota and he knows how to bring out that wild side that goes dormant when you’ve been in a long-term relationship for a while. You know what I’m talking about? That side of you that want so chug rum till you black out? I did not have a pretty January 1st. I’m pretty sure a part of my liver died.
I don’t usually do the whole new years’ resolution thing, but it seemed like a good idea this time around. I’ve got three:
1. Join the gym so I don’t feel like a total lump from sitting in front of the computer at work 12 hours a day.
2. Stop being a shoe-aholic. Seriously. It’s a problem. I don’t want to be the cutest girl in the poor house.
3. Blog. More frequently. And, you know, try not to vanish for a month and a half without warning. I still feel bad about it, ya’ll. I’ll try to make time and be more regular with the writing. It may not all be about the Quran, because that book is fucking depressing and boring.
I was planning on blogging over Thanksgiving, but I didn’t really get a chance. The part I failed to mention was that my sister got married that week, too. I ended up being her servant and running errands the whole time.
To top things off, my grandmother noticed my tattoos for the first time. You remember my grandmother? The one who thinks the devil owns your left hand? Yup, that one. She made a big fuss about the whole thing because — get this — God will no longer listen to my prayers.
Crazy Grandma went into some story about how one of her housekeepers back in Pakistan had a tattoo. She asked the guy how he could do such a thing to himself because it meant God would no longer listen to his prayers. The guy felt so ashamed that he went and removed his tattoo. By himself. Using a knife he held over the kitchen stove till it got red hot.
The guy felt so guilty about being a “bad Muslim” that he burned off his own skin. Ouch, dude. And Crazy Grandma said this like he was some noble person. Like she actually condoned that kind of thing. Luckily for me, an aunt stepped in and fought for my honor. “Where exactly in the Quran does it say that about tattoos?” And Crazy Grandma was left bumbling around because, seriously, I don’t think she’s actually read the thing in a language other than Arabic. Good times with the fam.
In a separate incident, I came out of the atheist closet to a couple of cousins who just didn’t get it. They got kind of angry and defensive and demanded to know how I couldn’t believe in God. “No evidence.” One of them replied back, “Oh, so you need evidence for everything, huh?” All sneery and sarcastic like. This, by the way, is the same cousin who believes love comes from the heart. Not the poetic heart, but the actual heart. The muscle. You cannot make that shit up.
And, finally, I came out as an atheist to my mother. Kinda. Here’s how it went down. My mother made some comment about how if she ever goes totally senile, she gives us permission to dump her in a nursing home. Cheerful! That led to a long conversation about assisted suicide. I’m a strong supporter and my mother, big fucking duh, is strongly opposed to it.
I told her that if someday I have a horrible fatal disease and I’m suffering, I’d rather just put myself down. And she went on this huge thing about how it’s against Islam and I’d go to hell if I did such a thing. And then it slipped out: “Ohhhh whatever, I don’t believe in any of that. And if you don’t stop talking about hell, seriously, I’ll fly out to Switzerland right now and sign myself up.”
Guess what? She stopped talking about it. Booya! Life is good. Even when I don’t have much of it outside of work. And with that, I’m off to bed. I’m packing my Quran and a pen in my purse for tomorrow’s commute. See resolution #3. I’m sticking to it!
It’s been a really rough week for us at the Kafir house. We had to say goodbye to a very special friend.
And I mean special as in special needs. KafirDog was our little retard. One time, we took her with us on vacation and let her swim in the ocean. She stood in the waves with a big shit-eating grin on her face, lapping up sea water. No amount of scolding or threatening made her stop. And as a result, she had bloody diarrhea stool all day long. The next day — no joke — KafirDog was right back in the ocean, lapping up sea water, big shit-eating grin on her face. I totally wasn’t kidding about her being a retard. She is sorely missed.
I have the day off of work today so I can take LittleKafirDog to a park to give her a little extra TLC. I know it’s Friday, but I’m not really feeling up to a LOLmuslim at the moment. I promise I’ll make it up to you by having one later on this week. I’m almost done with the next part of chapter 9, so that’ll be posted sometime later today.
P.S. I wanted to send a shoutout to Db0, who has very patiently been helping me with HTML and script and WordPress problems all week long. It’s a good thing he lives in Germany, because if he lived a little closer, I’d find him and steal his brain. Thanks Db0!