Sh*t White Girls Say.....To Muslims

She's funny. Can't wait to see who she turns out to be.

Egypt is the new black...

Dear George W. Bush: this is how the Middle East gets re-made. No invasions necessary.

Protesters have been in Cairo's Tahrir Square for nearly three weeks.
Todras-Whitehill/AP

According to the New York Daily News

Egypt's hated President Hosni Mubarak stepped down Friday - 18 days after his countrymen revolted against his autocratic rule.

Mubarak's exit was announced by his hand-picked vice president, Omar Suleiman, in a brief statement.

"My fellow citizens," Suleiman said. "President Mubarak has decided to leave the office of the president."

The Egyptian Army, he said, has been "instructed" to run the country in the interim.

The announcement sparked an enormous outburst of joy in Cairo's central Tahrir Square, where hundreds of thousands had gathered for an 18th day demanded that the tyrant step down.

Read more: http://www.nydailynews.com/news/world/2011/

I'm not sure what lies ahead for the Egyptian people but, I'm certain it is far richer than what lies behind them.

Sunday Snippets #2: Hate must make a man productive. Otherwise one might as well love.

Theme of the week: The value of words versus their actual meanings and impressions.

"If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself.
What isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us."

Since childhood we’re taught that actions speak louder than words, but, that’s not always true. People hurt me everyday with their words, not their fists. And sometimes, like the random man who said to me this weekend “You’re nice and Jesus would love you too, if you were Christian.” I kinda wish he had punched me instead. It woulda hurt less.

Lesson learned: No one means all he says, and yet very few say all they mean, for words are slippery and thought is viscous.

He says, "I'm a Little Short on Money but, Long on Time. Marry Me?"

"Love don't cost a thing, Ms.A."-- actually Jake your mother lied; ask your father. Of course that's what I, though tempted, resisted telling the innocent brunette in my class. But, it did take me back to that fateful day in my 6th grade career that I first heard, "There's no such thing as a stupid question" comment. Now, of course, I know better, there are such things as stupid questions because of course there are such things as stupid people--or at least people with stupid thought processes.

So, as both an inspiration from Twitter and nod to the end of Ramadan I felt a post in which I bit*h about skillfully list some of the many phrases I hate--as though I needed a reason to complain about complaining. We all know good things come to those who whine.

A carefully crafted list of phrases I hate: In no particular order

1. People who say "Do you remember me?"--If you had to ask, no.
   
2. People who say "You make things harder than they need to be"-- Yes, because stressing myself out is a favorite pass time along with knitting and being constipated.
3. (overheard) "Why you not at the club supporting yo boo?"-- Although this phrase could be varied replacing club with office, presentation, the gym and boo with other things my answer remains consistent: Why you not minding yo own business?
   
4. People who say "You're fat"-- & you're skinny. Now catch a breeze and fly away.
5. People who say "Imma let you finish"-- If you were, then perhaps you shouldn't have interrupted me, you shouldv'e just let me finish.
6. People who see you with something (usually shiny) and exclaim "where they do that at!?"--apparently where they did that at.
7. People who ask you, "Did I say/do that?"-- Umm if you didn't that I probably wouldn't have started with "You said/did..."
8. People who say "My fault/My bad"--Duh, we knew it was your fault before you realized it and decided to announce it.
9. People who ask "Do you work here?" No, actually I just dress up like the rest of the people that work here in my free time. It's up there with making things harder for myself, and stealing baby penguins.
   
10. "License and registration please."

And the phrase which absolutely erks me the most is:

"Take a walk in my shoes."

Actually, I like my own shoes. How 'bout I just watch you walk in yours.



Tell me, what phrases do you hate!?

Conversations W/Muslims #22- I'll Survive on Little Victories

It's time for another exciting portion of reasons why old people shouldn't be allowed to touch anything...but themselves.

(better known as reasons why my mother doesn't deserve a cell/shouldn't text)


Me: Mama I can't find the 20$ I found today.

Mama: Maybe it's a sign.

Me:Like what?

Mama: I don't know I don't make signs. I just follow them.

Mama: Like stop, go, yield, traffic slow ahead.

Me: Where have you ever seen a "Go" sign?

Mama:That's just it I haven't found it yet!

Mama:I'm sure my exit is approaching soon though. L0l

Me: That's gross don't use short hand, you're over the hill.

Mama:Yeah, that's where I found the traffic is slow ahead sign. You're father had it.

(30 minutes later)

Me: I found it, never mind.

Mama: Where?!

Me: Not the sign. the money. Unless the money is the sign.

Mama:Great! If you were still bummed I was gonna suggest getting Sea herpes.

Mama: I mean Sea Horses. Sea horses.

Oh Hawt Damn! This is My Jam...

The great thing about summer is that it means quality time, not quantity time with people. Unlike quantity time, quality time is about obtaining time with individuals based on the pure sentiment of being with/around each other as opposed to obtaining individuals, or other factors. For example, I'd rather do absolutely nothing with my best friend Zahra for hours than be without her for one. Basically, if you feel like what you're about to with a person belongs on the back of a Hallmark card then you're enjoining in quality time.

I started to think about all those quality time moments when I realized almost all of these memoirs were in vehicles/while traveling and that's because almost all of my memories start with one (or more) persons screaming, "Oh this is my jam!" The problem with people like *cough* Zahra *cough* is that whether it's hip-hop, R&B, Rap, Pop, foreign tunes, like Arabic and Spanish, heavy metal, country, or instrumental, EVERY song is their jam. The other problem with riding in vehicles with such people is that they continually announce how great of a jam it really is. You might hear them using such phrases:

• This is Ole' School right here!
  
• DAY-um, this is the joint!
• Turn it up!
• Ya'll don't know nothing about this

You're quite right, I don't know nothing 'bout this, and thank gawd for that! After screaming about how fabulous the song is they're charged up and have probably started singing over the music, are standing in the car/ jumping over things to get to the volume, singing the wrong lyrics, melody, tune, and are more than likely singing the wrong song entirely. Sometimes they do such things without a radio/music at all singing along in public places like Qdoba, the grocery store, Church. It's also probably one of the most offensive or inappropriate tunes ever created (see also:Takin' Retards to The Zoo, (Crank dat)Soulja Boy , or perhaps the ever inappropriate 3oh!3's Don't Trust a ho )



Now the reason I bring this up is because since my family's abandoning me( who's in school and being responsible) for vacation in the Bahamas/ D.C. leaving temporarily, I've been semi-living with Zahra and her family to which I learned that the ONLY thing worse than a person who owns every jam in the jam-universe is a child jammer. A child jammer is a regular jammer who can't think nearly as fast a fully grown jammer yet insist on jamming none the less. So as opposed to hearing "The circle of life and it moves us all" you hear "the wrinkle of lines and it moves so toe" At least with fully grown jammers I can use violence persuasive methods to achieve silence but, with creatures under the age of 10 belting out Hoey Montana I almost feel sorry for them. I mean back in my day Disney didn't just make movies, they made classics. Now they just make trash. So this morning I may or may not have takin' out the trash, misplacing that Disney Channel Music Super Stars CD. Ah, and now the summer can continue as regularly scheduled.

I Like it in The City When Two Worlds Collide-- Conversations W/Muslims

At 3 I was able to tell you what I wanted to be, a dancer, lawyer, interior decorator, forensics specialist, house wife, counselor, and before I learned that it was impossible, a daddy. Yes, this creative mind has been ticking every since the wee fetal days and for as much has changed one thing has remained, passion. It started with a spark, which is increasing in size, determined to spread. Eventually, I won't be able to contain to the volcano of creativity and I will explode. No, no, this is not a threat. This is reality. I thought perhaps with a blog, Twitter, and other such time-wasters, my imagination would be satisfied but, alas it is not. So what's next? Why, a book of course.


Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm pretty much obsessed with anonymous based-initiatives. PostSecret is an ongoing community mail art project, created by Frank Warren, in which people mail their secrets anonymously on one side of a homemade postcard.What alot of people do not know is that Post-Secret was a simple idea created to heal a hurtful situation.The simple concept of the project was that completely anonymous people decorate a postcard and portray a secret that they had never previously revealed.

No restrictions are made on the content of the secret; only that it must be completely truthful and must never have been spoken before. Entries range from admissions of sexual misconduct and criminal activity to confessions of secret desires, embarrassing habits, hopes and dreams.

Since Frank Warren created the website on January 1, 2005, PostSecret has collected and displayed upwards of 2,500 original pieces of art from people across the United States and around the world. I want to be Frank Warren. No, no, this doesn't mean I still think I can be a daddy. But, this does mean that I want to help people, help themselves, through themselves. A single confession on PostSecret caused a girl 'Cassie', to realize she is not alone in her pain. This single post card helped to prevent her suicide.

Now, I'm no Jesus, and don't think myself a savior. In fact, I don't expect for my 'project' to be as significant as Post-Secret but, I do hope to lessen the load of American Muslims. As an American-Muslim I know the struggle to maintain a healthy Islamic foundation while still balancing the expectations of a western society and culture. My hope, my dream, is to inspire Muslims locally, globally, and universally, to be proud of who and what they are not who and what they are expected to be. Be a skater boy if you must, just don't forget to pray. The idea is to experience, not exploit, the Muslim-American culture from a Muslim perspective. Some of the material will be funny. Some of it will not. Some of the material will be offensive. Some of the material will be inspirational. But, all of the material will be real. Eventually, I hope to publish these Muslim Experiences in a Journal. But, for now they are simply Conversations W/Muslims.




[If you have a conversation,experience,or story to tell, let it be heard! Email Perplxintexan@gmail.com]

I'll Stop The World & Melt With You...

The problem with community and mandatory family activities is that not only do they interpret the regularly scheduled programming that is, my life but, they also aim to ruin my life. My mother swears she told me about the 'Spring Community Picnic' before she forced me to go but, I know this is false. Because if she had told me about the picnic I would have created an elaborately in depth scene of illness in which I had an incurable/undiagnosed version of chicken poxes which prevents me from attending anything with the words family and community in the same phrase.

But, she didn't tell me about it and I assure you it was intentional. She didn't tell me because she knew he would be there. He is 3mu Ahmed, my 'uncle' --who actually isn't my uncle but, a meddling neighbor, who is forever eager to engage in unnecessary conversations geared towards getting me hitched and teaching me what 'real women act like.' Yes, he was sent here to destroy me.

It's a brisk 68 degrees outside. The sun is high but, not scorching and the grill is blaring in the wind. There's hamburgers, shawarma, hot dogs, and even emanpadas cooking away. The women are gossiping, as expected. The kids are terrorizing each other and it took the brothers 2 1/2 hours to set up a volleyball and badminton net but, only took them 5 minutes to arrange cars and trash cans for soccer goals. I put on my Welchs smile and gave my hugs/kisses/salams to more 'aunts' and 'uncles'. Thankfully we arrived an hour late; right as the food was ready but, he was still there.I look past him doing the 'I see you but will act like I don't ' glare then pattered off to the opposite end of the 'park'. I headed to play Volleyball with who I knew to be his visiting nephew (aged 16), his youngest son, and about 3 others. I tucked in my shades and asked, 'if girls can play to.' The strikingly attractive nephew answered me yes but, I heard him ask his cousin (in Arabic) if he knew who I was. Logan answered telling him(in Arabic) that I spoke Arabic.

I looked at the nephew, smiled, and prepared to embarrass him. I contemplated not embarrassing him but, my mad V-balling abilities & competitive nature wouldn't let me. Sucks for him. I was thirsty and started walking away. The nephew yelled "oh, quitting already?" I instructed him "Good thing you've got looks, cause you def. ain't got no game!"Yup, my game is legit and my trash talking is better. A sandy-haired, hazel-eyed, guy walks by and says "Never threaten girls with arms like hers." He glanced my way and flirted a smile. I was initially crepped by the fact that he had obviously been watching me but, was unnecessarily flattered at the same time. My sister acted as my brain and shouted towards him "That's not all those hands are good for!" Too bad she meant something non-overtly sexual.

He walked under the pavilion and immediately greeted 3mu Ahmed. Damn! Just my luck the one reason I would have actually wanted to come just willing hugged the #1 reason why I didn't want to come. I sat down next to my mother, my aunt (who actually isn't my aunt either), and my sister. My non-aunt-aunt smiles her so-lets-talk-about-when-your-gonna-start-making-babies-smile. I already knew this was bad news but before I could fake another chicken pox epidemic she bashfully glances over never Logan. It took me a moment to realize that she was insinuating that I should look into the prospect of her nephew. I place my watermelon down and inform her that I might have robbed his attention but, I'm not into robbing the cradle. The boy is what 16?! I asked how very old she actually thought I was. She said 15-17. First of all, 15-17 is not one age. Second of all, I don't think any boy aged 16 is ready to fully support a family involving me. 3mu Ahmed overhears my witty remark and feels so inclined to 'offer advice'.

The problem with Muslim men giving advice is that usually it's in blended English and references events that actually have nothing to do with their actual point. Somewhere in between 3mu Ahmed attempting at introducing me to the older of the two nephews he started talking to me about how "proper wives" let their husbands watch Law and Order. Apparently last night my no-so-aunt-aunt wouldn't let him watch the episode because she feared he would have nightmares....AWK-ward. [Insert F My Life here.]

I informed 3mu Ahmed that "proper wives" know how to please their husbands while maintaining their self dignity, and please God all the while.

He asked:" So you will not wear heels and look good?
Me: "Well, I tend to look good anyways but, I think heels could have their purpose."
Him: "Burpose like what?"
Me:" Uh..I don't know, slamming down the pedal and driving to Wendy's for dinner."

He had a huge fuss about women not knowing what a kitchen was made for and burning biryianni/Cous cous. I let him know that I don't do biryanni. I can eat it; but no biryanni cooking would happen on my behalf. The older, gorgeous, nephew let out a chuckle and said, "sounds like my kinda proper wife." I said, "a proper wife knows how to use all of her available resources, including Wendy's." While I may cook well that's not my entire worth. Besides, if I should end up in a Law & Order type episode I'll need a good alibi. "@ 10pm, Oh I was at Wendy's last night, drive-thru, all on tape" works wonders. And then, they'll search my trash and find the remnants and I won't go to jail.

So you see 3mu Ahmed a "proper wife" saved her husband from prison, put dinner on the table, and caught an episode of Law & Order all in a pair of heels. I ended my argument stating that while he might have had nightmares last night, to some man out there (that isn't 16) I am his dream (waiting to) come true.

Conversations W/Muslims #12: I'll Take Calligraphy & Then I'll Make a Fake Degree...

Spring means the awakening of two things, nature and haram. But, it also means the occurrence of the annual End-o-Term MSA (Muslim Student Association) picnic. And while most people across America are packing picnic-like necessities, towels, toothpicks, food, Frisbees, and the like my MSA packed up a hookah. Yes, a hookah, in fact there were 3 total, and not only were they present but, mandatory. Truth be told I love Muslims, they're hilarious with their cats on leashes and cotton candy hookah flavorings. And perhaps someday these mishaps, better known as my life, will make me very rich but, today they just made me laugh out loud. Not one but, two people caught on fire before Tarif took over and deemed himself "Baba BBQ," during which to other MSA members showed with their indoor cats, on leashes I might add, to an outdoor picnic.

The Syrians started smoking but, left the main area to do so, out of respect I suppose, I can never tell. But, the Turks, never to be outdone by the Syrians, decided to use the lighter fluid to light their cigars, yes cigars, which of course lead to them catching on fire. I contemplated making a hellfire joke but, resisted. And when all was quite I was beckoned. Hassan pulled me over to the side to discuss a 'very pressing concern.' Surely, it is not marriage, why must it be marriage I thought. Now however I think a marriage talk would have been a blessing to what he actually wanted. From what I was actually listening to, he thinks I'm one of the more attractive MSA girls and that he suggests if I lost any more weight that I begin wearing niqab. Comments like these confuse me and so I just stood there until he started scratching his beard. That was it. I told him that while I appreciate his comments I must politely disagree and was feeling rather thirsty so I must get a drink. Apparently me being dehydrated wasn't legitimate of a reason for me to leave because he still had a more pressing concern. I humored him and listened to his plea, that is until I realized what he was saying. He wants to remove the "M" from MSA. No joke. And then that was really it for me. I told him to momentarily excuse me, I was going to go get a drink.

I never came back.

As for the major details let us recall the first sentence of this post, i.e. haram. You see a month ago on an MSA National conference call a highly disturbed brother rang in reporting a 'major gender catastrophe' on his campus. The horrible issue was Extreme Frisbee and in true PerplxinTexan fashion the nervous laughter amidst awkward silence ensued. 'How haram could frisbee be' I thought. Let's just say that my MSA, and perhaps the brother who rang in's MSA, has yet again, found a way to make the halal haram. It's like tackle football with a disk. Although one could argue that the disc was merely an innocent bystander to the fondling. Boys and girls are on the same team, there was lots of jumping...so there was lots of falling [on each other], and let us never forget those delightfully and alarmingly awkward moment when a brother tried to grab a Frisbee and would miss the Frisbee. He got a handful of something, just not the disc.

The Persians told me that while they "understood my efforts but girls just don't ball." This was a direct challenge, never to be ignored, and so I accepted. Soccer and Football were out for obvious reasons. We played volleyball first to 10, best 2 out of 3. I don't take kindly to loosing. I made sure not to. Then I smiled at them and said "you're on my court now," everybody stood around and did the middle school "OOOooh, burn" PWND! They tried acting offended and took it as a you're-on-American-turf-get-a-green card-type thing. It wasn't. They lost, American or not. Maezen told me he likes when I talk to him in Spanish. I'll make sure not to anymore. Only a sixth of our entire MSA prayed at 3sr time, now that's blog worthy. And, one of the cats escaped.

What's that 700 sins to your MSA's measly 13, I'd say it was a pretty successful picnic, no?