I’m done with this shit. I’m done with walking on eggshells when I talk to my Jewish friends about Palestine. I’m done with listening to the myriad of personal prerogatives from every conceivable Muslim and Christian Arab Levantine sect. And I’m especially done with any Biblical/Quranic/Talmudic references justifying violence against one tribe or another. I’m done with Jews saying everything is about “security”. It isn’t. I’m done with Palestinians blaming everything on Israel. I’m done with it!
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printersanonymous
13 posts
If you’ve ever opened a Fingerhut or Seventh Avenue catalog to find a page of mandalas and dream catchers staring back at you and found yourself wondering, “Who the hell makes this shit?” I have a story for you. If you’ve ever walked into a Flying J or Petro truck stop and marveled at a particularly engaging velvet painting hanging amongst the racks tee-shirts emblazoned with howling wolves or an “End of the Trail” theme, I know from whence they came. Because from 1994-2004, my father was the Vice-President of the company that made them, and for three years I worked as his gofer. I worked at Chico Arts– the original mass-market manufacturer of velvet paintings and Native American-style kitsch.
In 2004, my father, a former FDIC banker and “troubleshooter” within the private retail banking industry, declared bankruptcy. A man who spent the better part of his adult life fixing banks after the Texas Mortgage Crisis of the 80’s found his own finances so devastated that he gave his house to the state to pay his creditors and started from scratch at 62 years old.
After the drama-fueled week I’ve had, the Shahs had some sore competition. Sorry, guys, but no one can compare to my 21-year-old neighbor with BPD who called my husband’s boss, and my former boss/personal friend (not to mention, like, 30 other people) to inform them about our marital strife with the likely hope that we would split up so she could get our apartment. Seriously. That bad. Continue reading
This week in Shahs, Asa takes GiGi thrifting with predictable results, Reza and MJ go to Great Neck, Long Island, Seacrest’s writers turn up the conflict, and everybody ruins dinner.
Let us all hang our heads in shame, after the jump.
Ladies, we need to talk about this. I call a general strike. Beginning September 21, 2012.
No cooking. No cleaning. No work. No sex. We will not nurse our babies. Let the men deal with warming a bottle of breast-milk from the freezer. We will not change nappies, or go to the grocery store, or give a BJ, or take the kids to school, or wake up early to get them ready, or go to our respective jobs because the majority of us work full time while being the primary parent… No. It’s all on them. Let them know the balance of work and family for once. Obviously, working, full-time dads, this does not apply to you. Continue reading
This week on Shahs, we find out what Reza’s real beef with his dad is, MJ hopes to shed unwanted pounds, and GiGi Allin celebrates her parent’s 40th Anniversary by draining their bank account. Will the fundamental balance between asha and druj- order and chaos be held? Will their deeds please Ahura Mazda, or will they continue to find themselves slave to the sway of Angra Maniyu? Will they find their souls purified by the fire pit of their own creation, or be scorched by their own pettiness and vanity? Only one way to know- Jump! Continue reading
This week in Shahs, GiGi Allin shits on everyone, mom and I administer the Hare Test to GiGi in absentia, Asa wears a turban (a Turban!), everyone works in real estate, and we place bets on who actually knows what champagne is which.
Crème fraîche, after the jump… Continue reading
In another exploration of Multiple Personality Disorder, Mom and I bravely watch another episode of Ryan Seacrest’s Proustian tome for the ages, Shahs of Sunset.
This episode, Reza takes his “friends” to Vegas to revel in a veritable Xerxinalia while guided along by “King of Vegas” Mike “Sultani” Shouhed. Join us then as we revel in the animal prints, marble, forced conflict, and drunk confessionals!
Purple drapes! After the jump. Continue reading
This Sunday afternoon, after sleeping in till 11 (it was sweet), gorging myself at the Camino Real’s mother’s day buffet and having a couple of mimosas, I invited mom to drop by and watch an episode of Shahs of Sunset.
So If you’ll allow, we’re about to get a little Sybil over here as I let mom take over my left brain to provide commentary. This is for you Miss Anita Manbadly. Continue reading