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My mom was kind of upset today and wanted to go shopping. She came my way to take me along with her. I didn’t particularly want to leave the house to go out in the 100 degree heat. Well, I wanted to make my mom happy, so I did. Being Muslim isn’t easy. The hijab or scarf I wear annoys me at times. I’m not always comfortable.
While my mom was browsing around in a store a sales lady came up to me. She asked, “Aren’t you really hot in all that clothing?” I politely answered that the fabric is very light and breathable. I don’t have the sun beating down on my head or skin, thus it does not absorb as much heat.
I really wanted to be rude. I wanted to ask if she was hot when she went outside in the clothes she wears. I wanted to say if it’s hot outside and I’m in a tank top and shorts, I’m going to be hot. So of course when you add more clothing, I am still going to be hot. Does my clothing change the fact the the temperature outside is so hot a person can hardly stand it? Hot is hot, it doesn’t matter what you wear.
People please think about it for a couple seconds before you ask a Muslim woman in a scarf if she’s hot in the summer.
*4 million American women experience a serious assault by a partner during an average 12-month period.
*On the average, more than three women are murdered by their husbands or boyfriends every day.
*1 out of 3 women around the world has been beaten, coerced into sex or otherwise abused during her lifetime.
*Women of all races are equally vulnerable to violence by an intimate partner.
*37% of all women who sought care in hospital emergency rooms for violence–related injuries were injured by a current or former spouse/partner.
*Some estimates say almost 1 million incidents of violence occur against a current or former spouse/partner per year.
*For 30% of women who experience abuse, the first incident occurs during pregnancy.
*As many as 324,000 women each year experience intimate partner violence during their pregnancy.
Thanks to the Ex-Husband for turning me into a number! I took stats in college and now I am one!
Perhaps you’ve seen t-shirts such as these; with arrows pointing at the biceps. Well, I was on the phone with my mom the other day (she forgave me for the prank call). She was telling me that my 12-year-old brother is starting to be obsessed with his muscles. She catches him flexing his arm and looking over at his bicep with a grin on his face. He will flex his arm and have her feel it too, then he will ask, “Isn’t it hard, mom?” He also says, “Mom feel my abs, I’m getting a 6-pack!” I don’t know how my mom can keep a straight face!
She asked if I ever thought he would be like that. I said no. Her and my step-dad hadn’t thought so either. He’s been asking for a weight bench though. Aaaaah, puberty, they are in for so much trouble!
I have spent way too much time at work lately. I ranted a bit at the amount of things my group leader asked me to do the other day. In the middle of it I said, “I’m not a work-horse, I’m a human being!” That was a ginormous mistake. I walked into work yesterday and she said, “How’s my little work-horse this morning?” Crap. I’m going to be called “my little work-horse” for who knows how long!
What’s in a name anyway?
Today the “Big Boss” was down in our area asking some questions about how it’s going. I answered his questions and provided the information needed. He said, “Thanks *name excluded*.” However it wasn’t my name, but it did start with the same letter. After he left I was then accused by my co-worker of being a brown-noser, a suck-up. My reply: If I wanted to suck-up to him, he would know my name.
I must note that I have corrected this boss with my name on quite a few occasions. I finally gave up a few months ago, and have accepted the fact that he will call me by this other name forever. It’s sort of amusing that whenever I do pass him in the hall or whatever, I always look down at my employee badge afterwards. I wear it around my neck, and it always happens to be flipped over so you can’t see my name. Coincidence? I think not.
For the reason that I drink from it all the time, I wasn’t about to let my ex-husband have it. When we married he decided he liked the idea of having a water bottle. So, while at the store one day, we got him his own. If any of you know much about my ex you will know his irresponsible nature. The man loses everything. He loses important things, and not so important things, but loses stuff all the time. He inevitably lost his water bottle.
One day on his way out the door he asked me to get him some water. He asked for the water to be in MY water bottle. I said I would get him a container with water, but not my water bottle. First of all, he had a nice water bottle, he lost it. Second, I didn’t need him to lose mine or leave it somewhere; I use it all the time. So I got him a different type of water bottle and filled it up. It wasn’t as big as my water bottle, but I figured it would be okay.
He took the container from me and promptly chucked it at my head. Then, he walked out the door, and went wherever it was he needed to go.
For the next two weeks I was yelled at for not giving him water. “My own wife won’t even give me water. It is one of the basic things for life and my own wife wouldn’t give me any.” My reply, “I gave you water, it just wasn’t in the container you wanted.” He decided that he couldn’t live with someone who wouldn’t give him water. That’s when he moved out and we divorced.
Thank you Nalgene bottle, you saved my life!
Well at least I was asked to come in early the day prior this time! I am tired and not really in the blogging mood. So dear reader, I will leave you with the word of the day.
The word is: Incongruous
Please use this word in a sentence to day. It will make you feel better. If you don’t, that’s okay too, but don’t ever say I didn’t try to help expand your vocabulary.
If you must know I flip the pages of the dictionary and stick my finger on a word to choose it. My work schedule is incongruous with the way I want to spend my time.
I don’t particularly love my job, or even come close to liking it. I try to be flexible because I can be. I don’t have school right now, and I don’t have a husband or kids yet. I work quite a bit of overtime. I constantly change my hours to accomodate. Sometimes, just sometimes, they push me too far.
Take today for instance:
I was awakened by the phone ringing 3 hours before I had to be to work. My supervisor tells me that the lady I work with would be leaving 2 and 1/2 hours early, so I should come in that early to make all my hours. Which means that from the time she called me I had about 40 minutes to shower, get ready, and make it to work. Nice, huh? I went when I felt like it. She also told me that if I came late I could come in on my day off and make up my hours. Can I please? Wow, Thanks!
My supervisor also mentioned that it would be nice for me to be early because another lady was at a training for a position in our area. My supervisor had asked me a couple of months ago to take that position; I accepted. Now she sent someone else for the training!?? I need to get out of that place.
Yesterday I pranked my mom. I blocked my number and asked in a funny voice for “Amanda”. She said, “There’s no Amanda here.” I then said, “Is Amanda Hugginkiss there?” She then yelled into the phone, “I already told you there isn’t anybody here by that name!”
Then I started laughing. She said I was sick and hung up on me.
I still think it’s funny, I don’t know why she didn’t.
I was reading another blog about prank calls, and was reminded of something that happened to me in college. My first-year dorm was a mix of regular students and those in an advanced program called The Great Conversation. This program was about philosophy and stuff. Well, I of course was one of the regular students. However, the dorm was known for the “Great Con” students.
Something else I have to mention is that I was extremely crabby when awakened. I’ve gotten better over the years, but I used to be pretty evil when someone woke me up. Close friends and family knew better than to bother me.
I was asleep and up in my loft one night. The phone started ringing, and ringing, and ringing. They were persistent. My roommate wasn’t there, so I half climbed, half fell out of my loft to get to the phone. Here’s how the conversation went down:
Other: Is Plato there?
Me: I don’t have any damn playdough!
Other: Are you sure Plato isn’t there?
Me: *Many swear words* and pretty much saying that I didn’t have playdough because I didn’t play with that crap anymore. I was *swearing* sleeping and you better leave me alone or I will hunt you down and *swearing*.
Something along those lines though. The odd part is that a couple months later while working at my student job in the cafeteria, I was telling my friend about this incident. He got red and started laughing. Then exclaimed, “Oh my God! That was you? You are so funny when you’re half asleep!”