Journal entries from 2005 till the present, in no chronological order, detailing the life of a young, disgruntled career girl who'd rather be on the beach, eating ice cream with Jack Johnson.

There Is A Reason

Don't count your chicks before the eggs are hatched.

(Almost) Bionic Woman

If you knew me, you'd be worried about me right now. This is how my day goes.

A Weekend With Gleaming Biceps

So instead i lay sprawled on the opposite couch, in sexiest sprawling position possible, as we talked about relationships and i told him i didnt want a commitment, i just wanted to have fun without the headaches. It was like telling Charlie he was going to the chocolate factory.

And life began

i could almost hear him thinking out loud, so that night at the party, i told him "she's happy with her boyfriend, so dont get your hopes up." and he said "She's a big girl, she knows what she's doing."

And life begins now

i know. i am a nadla.

And the birthday wenteth

will i ever see paris? or peru? will i ever dance on ice and eat clouds? fall in love enough to make all other memories pale in comparison? become an aclaimed writer/designer/dancer/actress/talkshow host? have kids? adopt kids? paint my own kitchen wall? save the whales? hug a tree? teach my grandchildren my special brownie recipe?

Awembuwa Awembuwa

Secret#8: when Jasmine asked me to talk to Ahmed for her, I totally knew what I was doing when I flirted with him, and I got a sorta kick out of him asking me out. Then of course I totally paid for it when he dumped me for Lara.

Back From Basata

Now here I faced the first two issues: 1.I do not like kids who act all cute when I know they're faking it 2. I cannot resist being challenged, and having a kid do it to me is just plain embarrassing

Believing In Chocolate

I have a tendency to think of irritating songs at inappropriate times; for example, I woke up a few days ago singing "Baby Got Back" but got really pissed when I couldn't remember the second verse, so when I got to work I downloaded the lyrics and learnt them by heart. Yeah. I'm a dork. Just shoot me.

Breathe Again

we got stuck in traffic, so Mariam bought a flag and i put on a funny hat with the flag's colours, and people started pointing and waving, we laughed and sang along to Ray Charles, and i realised it's been a long time since i was that happy.


You are a fool around him. You don't care.

Confessions of A Desk Girl

We sniggered about the idea of us making out (though me rather half-heartedly), I went on tracing circles in the sand, and he went on saying "I don't get it! Why me?" I did not, of course, say: "Because you always go for a pair of breasts before checking for a head first!", but it was on my mind.


How can it have only been 11 times? and since when do I kiss someone after only having met him 8 times? Usually i'm as fast as a stoned turtle with arthritis, so what's got into me?


I've found myself a guy who can cook AND talk about fashion AND fight over who's sexier; Terrence Howard or Don Cheadle (I'd have to go for Terrence, those eyes! those tear-filled smokey eyes! Oh Lord!)

Cried the Night Together

And here she is, telling me things i could never put into words, this frustration, this need to get it over with, the shame, the things we do to keep his memory, as if it's wrong, as if it's sad, but it's not.

Everything you shouldnt be

once again, God is cracking up at me

For The Love Of Paris

As with most major events or mishaps in my life, I like to blame my mother for my love for Paris. Thanks to her and her iron fist of TV censorship...

It's Good to Be An Otta


On Being A Cruslim

Then I came up with the genius decision that I am a Cruslim. Yes, a Christian Muslim.

On Birthdays and Other Scary Things

I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I hate my birthdays.

Shake It, Goose!

the flirting seems to have gone from clumsy/cute to downright lawnmower aggressive. Or as one friend referred to it, the Hurricane Katrina Approach: you won’t know what hit you till it’s over.

Shut Up, Ghandi

Day Three: found myself scratching my arm like a crack addict when my friend lit her cigarette next to me. Made her blow smoke my way so that I could inhale some of it.

The Eight Symptoms of Being a Foodist

I’m a bit of a Food Bully: I may seem a little, ahem, judgmental of people who don’t care about food, or simply forget to eat (who forgets to eat?!!).

The Question of Courage

If you’re in a family where two out of three will climb on a chair and scream at the cockroach below, someone has to step down and kill it with a slipper. That someone is usually me.

Wrong Side

And here i am, on the wrong side of the wall, wrong end of the line. last shore on the ocean. I have a boyfriend who'd rather get lost on the streets of Montreal than in his basement in Maadi.