A Very Muslim Christmas

First I'd like to say that either Homeland Security started reading my whiny blog and took me off the 'most likely to be a terrorist list' or Kris Kringle sent me a little seasonal help. I was only patted down ONCE and it wasn't even in the US. An impressive female Hitler impersonator gave me a smashing (not said lightly) invasive fondling in Frankfurt, Germany, and I might have liked it. But other than that it was a poking, prodding, puffing, and sadly body scanner free flight, all four, so far.

But now after a short sojourn in Zurich, Switzerland (lovely place for Christmas), I am experiencing the polar opposite in Kosovo. Whenever this side of my family (way too often) enjoys one of their Muslim holidays (Insert opportunity to give their kids money and eat foul suspectly prepared food), I always wish them a "Happy" whatever the heck it is.

But today, even with my more than once reminder that today was Christmas, not one "Merry Christmas" did I receive. I did receive however lost and pillaged luggage courtesy of the Pristina Muslim Airport Police. In all fairness, (And I am so about that) they did call and are now ready to turn over my shocked underwear. I suppose I shouldn't blame them, they were only doing their job. Perhaps, I should explain....

Two days before our flight learned that we were not only expected to take an aforementioned bag of demanded goodies, (which ended up costing us $50 after all) but were now expected to act as a document delivery service as well. Apparently they couldn't use DHL or FedEx as that would be too Christian or something. I refused to let my hubby hand carry said documents, as was the demand, in fear that we would be arrested or something. I mean surely Homeland Security has some sort of a law on carrying someone's guaranty to move to the US, or maybe not...either way I didn't want to take that chance. (Getting deported once in my life was enough to teach this old dog a lesson.)

But I blabber, the airport police not only ripped off that bag, but water-boarded our other checked luggage for answers. Yes, it was soaking wet, everything in it.

So to get back to the point, I'm pissed that no one, except my sweet FB friends and my husband, (although he has done so whispering) has wished me a Merry Christmas. I didn't expect any spiked eggnog or edible food, but a 'good tidings' would have been nice.

So now, I plan to drown my sorrows in this fine bottle of Finlandia Vodka courtesy of Duty Free shopping, sans nog (gratefully honestly) and wish you all a very MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!

Jihad Baggage Not Allowed

The day soon approaches for our trip to Kosovo and thus the vultures begin to circle. And by vultures I mean his well-meaning(for themselves)family members with baggage, and I'm not referring to their mental issues.

Every year as we plan our sojourn to Eastern Europe for a little R&R the age old question arises, "How many bags are you allowed to take?" The answer has not changed from the beginning of international travel, er not in my economy flying lifetime anyway, but I guess they can always hope. Two per passenger. When we traveled with the kids that totalled a whopping eight bags, and mayhem and madness soon ensued.

Apparently cargo mailings are not kosher (or perhaps halal?) in the muslim religion, as the minute travel plans are announced we have more muslims (many only seen upon such occassions) on our doorstep than illegals in a field at strawberry picking time. Each bearing gifts desperately needed by family members still residing in the old country. (Which is also inaccurate as Kosovo is the newest country in the world, but I digress.)

This year, it being only the old man and I, I said, "NO!" We only get four bags after all. My dearest love agreed that being strapped to such stringent luggage rules, it was probably for the best. He didn't need to mention that I'm on every Homeland Security terrorist list created and Allah only knows what his family is liable to pack. Trust me, I'm not exaggerating, common sense is not a family trait.

So, I get everything I want, right? I get the better part of a month off, 1 week Kosovo, 1 week Dubrovnik, 1/2 week Kosovo, 1/2 week Budapest. Absolutely Fabulous! Of course not, no sooner were tickets purchased and hotels booked, (I always pay the side trips in advance to avoid extra family members joining our excursions as well as the assurance that I actually get to take them)than we get the 'must bring list' for certain persons.

Now you must appreciate the list, not only does it command what they'd like, but gives exact brand names. But I smile, pull out the wallet, curse extensively under my breath and start shopping. All's well that ends well, right? Wrong, two days ago I learn I've been preempted on our arrangement and a certain person will be packing a bag to take with us and could I please turn over my purchases to be included in that luggage. I smile, I scream, I curse, I send spells of diarrhea, (all silently naturally)and I turn over the bag.

My generous beloved has agreed to give up one of his bags to carry the extra bag and bless his heart, I hope I can some fit underwear into the ONE he will be carrying, because not a gosh darn thing is going in my TWO.

I did get one concession...his family will not meet us at the airport with said bag of jihadables, (unmatching hideous luggage held together by duct tape and razor wire). I will receive the suspect luggage the night before. Giving me the opportunity to repack it, thus matching my chic luggage, and offset profuse sweatage ensuing when asked by Homeland Security if, "I packed each bag and or received any unknown items from unknown persons?"

So let the prodding, puffing, poking, and this full body scanning commence!

Who Will Dominate the World? WalMart or Moslems?

I have to preface this blog with a note for my stalkers. If you follow me on twitter or ask to 'friend me' on facebook and your only goal is to spout your muslim rhetoric at me, please note I will delete you and/or not accept your friend request.

That being said, I'd like to thank the guy or girl who's comments I've deleted, so hard to tell from an anonymous coward, for inspiring today's short blog. I will not allow any comments to stay that propagate your agenda of world muslim domination. This is my blog, if you want to babble ignorant garbage, go get your own.

I'm participating in NaNo this month, so I don't expect to have time to write a new pithy scathing review of mine and my husband's love life again this month.

Whenever; my sweetie and I get a little tipsy we like to play a little game, yes that one too, but the one to which I refer now, we call, "Who Shall Rule the World?" If you follow the news at all, you might notice a common thread among muslim dialogue. World domination! It is absolutely their goal to convert each and every heathen alive. Whether they use force, their most popular plan, or they use soft spoken untruths, the goal is the same. Bring Islam into your household even if it means shoving it down your throat. In being fair, there are an overwhelming number of christian fundamentalist that would gladly do the same. Haven't heard of any jihading Buddist though....hmmm.

So who is strong enough to stop them? Have you tried to fight a suicide bomber? You can't win, they come prepared to go out with a bang. We've considered the vatican, but those long dresses are cumbersome to walk in, much less run. Take my word on it, I was forced to take junior high PE wearing one, makes dodge ball living hell.

We've considered all the TV evangelists we can think of, but that always ends the same. They're not committed enough to the goal. Don't judge, it'd be hard for me to give up my Rolex for a ton of dynamite too. So who? Who will step up and take the challenge?

The Chinese? Possibly, they do consider the muslim infiltration as a bothersome gnat to their own plans of taking over the world. I prefer their invasion, everyone needs thousands of worthless plastic items and electronics that only work for a day.

But that always brings us to WALMART, yes they will be the victors. There fiendish need to hunker down, run every small business owner under, and sell us more junk than we have cabinet space for, will be our salvation. You ponder ominipotently, why wouldn't they just join the terrorist plot. Take up selling head scarves or what not? They do. But are they willing to give up selling beer, wine, cheap non-hallal ground beef,or savory pig's feet, short shorts, and bikini's? There's a ton of profit in a bikini, $40 for 1/3 yard of cloth.

Feel free to leave your comments or who may save us.

Breaking and Entering is OK with Islam

I must warn you that today's blog is PO Rated, slanted, biased, and all around ready to blow. I was going to wait to write this until I could find a calm perspective, but damnit there just isn't one. (The alternatives just make me more PO'd.) As a courtesy to my husband, the best man I ever met,I have refrained from mentioning family members by name, not today...MINIRE!!!!

My sister-in-law is one of the evilest, vilest, creatures ever born, and that includes folklore. But until today I kept that my opinion to myself, as a sometimes nice Southern girl, instead preferring to say, 'we don't speak'. Well no more!

My beer guzzling, pork chowing hubby is somehow always viewed as the black sheep by his more and more devout family. Especially, by his holier-than-thou sister, Minire. She doesn't drink, she doesn't smoke (hates all females that do, and yeah that includes other female muslims/family members), and she never has a good word to say about anybody. What she does do is: BREAKING AND ENTERING! Yeah, you read that right. Apparently, somehow in a hidden passage of the Quran, it is ok to just take a peek in someone else's house. Her words exactly were, "I just wanted to see what color they painted the walls..." I shit you not!

Now, I should say that she was a previous owner to that property. A property that she sold to us on September 1st, to save her from yet another ok with Islam, foreclosure, caused by the refusal to pay your mortgage if it's inconvenient. Now, we had a closing, we had the discussion pointing out the fact that if you were paid for a property, and your butt is saved from said foreclosure, the property is no longer yours.

I should also point out, she never the mortgage on said property once, as she happily expected her son to pay her bills for all eternity. Unfortunately that no-so-attractive son of hers had other plans. Including the marriage to a too-pretty-for-him woman that promptly spouted out three children faster than a jackrabbit. Apparently, too-pretty-for-him baby machine was ok with the arrangement of forever housing mama, until mommy dearest refused to babysit for free, and then, well...you can see how well that went.

Which brings us to the current dilemna. Bitchy mama was losing her house, we were begged to step in and save her from public embarrassment, and thus we all went to the aforementioned closing. At that closing, we gave money, papers were signed, and keys and garage opener were remanded.

But was it the day of reckoning for Brumhilde? No, in a sly little pocket of her witch's gown, there lie a key.... Today, that key was used. I hope with all my heart that that was the first time it was used, but I simply don't believe it. The worst thing is, not how she could have me cost me my real estate license, or even the fact that we could have been named as parties to her little broomflying ride on the wild side. The worst thing is the poor, incredibly terrified tenants.

Imagine, you hear a key scrape in the lock, but you think nothing of it, after all you are expecting your wife home at any minute. right? So, you continue undressing and slip on your oh, so not hip, but very comfy pjs to walk into your living room and find an intruder. You don't have a gun on your unsexy pjs (dang it), and you're not even sure what you seeing.

Strange lady, speaking no English, is casing your apartment, she's delving in your boxes, she's eying your flatscreen. What do you do? You shriek, she runs and you call, yours truly.

I say, "Call the police (never suspecting my FU'd sister-in-law, I mean I got those keys, right?) and I'll call a locksmith." Well, as it so happens the cops show up and the mysterious snooper woman show up simultaneously. Yeah, she returns to the scene of the crime, only next door, with teenage niece in hand, and acting completely oblivious to the pointing fingers from the rent house across the driveway.

Suddenly, no one speaks English, my tenant is frantic on the phone, accusing me of being in cahoots with the snooping demon, and I'm in Florida wanting to commit my own form of jihad. Thank god for the distance, or I'd never get off that Homeland Security spooky kook list.

Long story short...Tons of frantic pleading (mostly for my own behind), mention that my sister-in-law (never mention she may or may not be working for Mohammed) is the daughter of satan and certifiably insane. Tenants are leary (who wouldn't be?), hubby's family mysteriously relearns the English language, and the God-bless-Americans Tenants, don't press charges, YET!

I hope we all learned something from this...doubtful.

Was NPR Unfair to Juan Williams?

NPR Radio has terminated Juan Williams, highly respected civil rights activist and NPR host, after comments he made on the O'Reilly Factor with Bill O'Reilly.

Juan Williams, "Look, Bill, I'm not a bigot. You know the kind of books I've written about the civil rights movement in this country. But when I get on the plane, I got to tell you, if I see people who are in Muslim garb and I think, you know, they are identifying themselves first and foremost as Muslims, I get worried. I get nervous."

To be fair, Williams argued against blaming all Muslims as "extremists," saying Christians shouldn't be blamed for Oklahoma City bomber Timothy McVeigh.

I wholeheartedly agree with both comments, and it's rare that I agree with anything Mr. Williams has to say. I face this dilemna everyday of my life. When I sit down on a flight, after being puffed by the puffing machine, patted down by a burly invasive female security officer, and stared down by the mind readers, I immediately look around to see who looks like the real terrorist aboard. (For some reason Homeland Security has me on the "watch out for that extremist kook" list.) I'm proud to be poked and prodded like a prime heifer ready for slaughter. Why? Because it means someone is looking out the welfare of every passenger on that flight, and that includes my fine flanks.

So is it fair for NPR to terminate such a respected advocate for social justice just because he had the gumpta to speak what everyone else on that plane is thinking? I think not and NPR is playing scared. They have become so politically correct should they even be called NPR anymore? Do they represent the nation or not?

Juan Williams' comment referring to the Muslim's choice to identify himself and set himself apart is starkly accurate. My husband has family members that specifically try to make statements and defy someone to remark on their religious choice. They twist prayer beads on their rearview mirrors, attach them to their key rings, and keep a copy of "A Brief Illustrated Guide to Understanding Islam", in their rear car window just in case someone missed the fourteen pounds of beads. They want an opportunity to fight for their religion.

I believe in the rights of all religions, if you want to pray to the praying mantis, I'll not take issue with it. So for the Muslims, I say pray away. But if you come on a flight dressed to 'blow up', with the look of jihad on your face, don't be offended by the comments you might elicit as you scare the bejesus out of some little old lady.

Whatever

I'm a worthless blogger. I just don't seem to possess the necessary stamina or interest to keep this bloody thing updated. I realize the horror of that as every writing class I take further drills my uselessness into me. But the truth is, as this is only about my life with my Muslim husband, sometimes our life is just boring.

I spent the last week scheduling our trip to Kosovo for Christmas. Odd, you might say and you'd be right, to go to a Muslim country for a Christian holiday. Our biggest pissing match occured over exactly where we will spend said Christian festivities.

We don't arrive until Christmas Eve, flying out on the 23rd, oh for gosh sakes you get it, it's an overnight flight, yada, yada, yada. And as such he understandly, (I won't admit to ever having said that) wants to spend Christmas with his family. Now, I wouldn't, and shouldn't, have an issue with that, except hello, they are moslem. So there won't be any teary rememberances of the wrigling baby Jesus or even Christmas carols. And I could live with that, but what about brandy spiked eggnog? Am I to suffer hot tea and stale biscuits on the Lord's Birthday? Blasphemy, no less!

It's not like his mother will notice if we come in and sneak out the next morning. I honestly love her to death, but she doesn't remember me anymore and rarely does she remember him. (Ah, the sad plight of Alzheimers, but her treatment is another blog altogether.)

The greatest problem is the local churches, not mosques, that are still standing, won't let me in. I could sneak out for an hour or two on the pretense of needing something...coffee, internet (nope, can't claim that anymore, just spent $3500 to install it in the house) or prayer beads? The local churches no longer hold services, the closest being 20 kilometers away. They only accept the local Christians (Yes, some have actually stayed...now, that's ballsy) in fear of Muslim terrorism. So, I have to go to the Decani Monastery, two hours away in order to worship. Incredible gorgeous place! (If I win the argument I'll post pics.)

I'm not a very religious person, (cults tend to leave a doubt in your mind) but Christmas is like Easter, "I gots to get my Jesus on Days". Celebrate those two just in case there really is something to the Christian thing and those are the best services. I love the incense, the speciality singers, and kick butt coffee and cake after.

Perhaps, seeing that I'm probably worshiping for all the wrong reasons, I should just give in. Let my hubby have the holiday in whole without whiney winsome comments from me. Oh hell no!

My Beer Drinking Muslim

He doesn’t pray, he doesn’t make bombs, and he can suck down a six-pack with the best of them. Does that make my husband and best friend of twenty-three years a bad Muslim? His father would say so, so would his brothers. Just marrying me, (ex-Christian, Chardonnay drinking fool) the personification of infidel, is enough to get him kicked out of most mosques. But I know he’s a good Muslim, not only a good man.
The relationship we have is not all pork buffets and all night bingers. In fact we detest buffets and a binge would have me in bed sick for a month. Us, our thing, is rocky, passionate, and quiet.
Since 9/11 we’ve argued about his religion. Prior to that date, we never discussed it, it was a non-entity. His father was a former mayor in their small village in pre-war Kosovo. As part of the communist regime, he never attended mosque and to my husband’s recollection never spoke of Islam at all. The entire family kept the festivals, but only his mother fasted during Ramadan. So why has 9/11 changed so many people? Not only the Americans were affected, the entire Muslim community was affected just as deeply as we were.
My father-in-law suddenly became devout, and along with one my brothers-in-law even made the pilgrimage to Mecca. But why? My husband, a man I thought I knew more than anyone on earth, changed overnight. He was suddenly torn between his loyalty to his family and his love for America, his home. He no longer thinks of Kosovo as his home, America is.
Having been raised in a cult, I do not respect any organized religion. I do respect the individual’s right to religion and freedom to choose any form of observance they so choose. But having said that, I still fear Islam.
Specifically, I fear radical Islam. I fear the impassioned imams taking undereducated boys in poor countries and brainwashing them into beasts of hatred. Brainwashing exists. I personally underwent thirteen years of it before I was rescued by foster care. While the damage was done in only thirteen years it has taken thirty to begin the healing of the scars left by it.

Thank God Bajram is Over

Bajram as called by the Albanian Muslims more commonly referred to as: Eid ul-Fitr is the Festival of the Purification After Completing the Fasting Month. Yeah, a mouthful right? The irony of that is they are celebrating the fact that they put nothing in their mouths for a month. During the daylight hours anyway. Of course, they gorge themselves stupid as soon as the lights go out.

Also referred to as simply the Eid, it lasts three days, this year the third day coincided with the ninth anniversary of our September the 11th, a poor ignorant preacher in Gainesville, Florida wanting to roast wieners (I'm sure he was using pure beef ones) over the Quran, and New York in an uproar over the building of a mosque on the ashes of the World Trade Center. I admit, I was terrified they'd be another attack in New York, and not just pissed off New Yorkers throwing their shoes at Joe Biden. (Although secretly I would have given anything to see that.)

The atmosphere around here was hot and heavy for the past week as we argued ceaselessly (I am a redhead and he is pigheaded) as to the probability of such an attack. But thank God, Allah or Daffy Duck that nothing really happened.

Unless you count: Preacher Jones' free trip to New York, sans the shoe throwing, it was too hot to barbeque in Florida anyway, and a worthless deal (worthy of any White House politician) that the 9/11 mosque would be moved to a more appropriate location by a Muslim leader associated with the project. And par for the course, Muslims squealed in protest the world over the non-existent bonfire and killed a few people just for good measure.

Dear Lord Don't Let Me Pee Myself

Coming up at the end of this month, I'll be attending the Wrangling With Writing, writer's conference in Tucson, Arizona to pitch my two finished novels, Alkonost-A Tattoo Awakens and McDracula.

Needless to say, I've queried the first one to every agent seeking paranormal and urban fantasy on the planet, but I'm not giving up yet. I've held off on the self-abuse for McDracula preferring to horde the pain and desperation inside me until it's fairly bursting to explode on the first agent to cross my path.

As the days speed by, seemingly increasing with velocity, the closer I come to the 24th, I find my stomach becoming a knot of starving nerves. I eat everything within reach, even pencil eraser is tasty these days, especially dipped in Ranch dressing. By the time I make it to the 24th I'm going to be so fat, I'm going to look like a Realtor with a glamour shot on my business card, totally unrecognizable from the original.

I'm certain I'm going to do something to totally embarrass myself, no, I'm not being fatalistic, I'm being me. I'm just hoping I don't pee myself, maybe I'll buy some of those old lady diapers before the pitch session just in case. Wish me luck.

Scrub Street Signs in Spanish!

As a holder of CDL Class A(Yep, I just checked, it's a Class A)I distinctly remember being required to read to and write English. And since Obama and his posse haven't been able to open the floodgates for the thousands of Mexican drivers to start rolling over fourwheelers here yet, I'd sincerely like to know why there is a sign inside New Mexico on I-10 just over the Texas line that reads, "Bascula de Camiones"?

Now, I might have mispelled that as I really didn't stop to peruse it properly, didn't want to get mistaken for one of those people actually needing to read it. I don't think I got my passport on me at the moment and spending the night in jail, for failure to prove I'm an American citizen(even a New Mexico one) isn't high on my agenda.

But with all that being said, why do you suppose that sign is necessary? I mean if you're an illegal alien cruising along I-10 in a pick-up that sign doesn't actually apply to you, but perhaps it does. Maybe that's the genius of it all. Possibly New Mexico has done some highly unscientific research and realized that an overwhelming number of illegals purchase a pickup (and that's a truck) for their first automobile. By sticking up that sign as they flee from Texas into the great state of New Mexico they slide right on in the scales behind me. The guard can then ask them a couple of questions, determine they don't have a clue what he's talking about, ask to see his papers, and voila!

The state nabs them at the border, albeit not the border they initially crossed, and saves the state unnecessary expenditures in the way of immigration enforcement.

So maybe all the whiners making a fuss over the Arizona Immigration law should really be turning their blowhards to New Mexico. Hmmmm. Genius, sheer genius.

Finding Balance Against Muslim Racism

As a Christian American married to a Muslim Nationalized American, I find it getting harder and harder to stay objective. As daily reports flood in with more and more Americans turning Jihadist against our own country I find it burns deeper into my soul. Today Yahoo reported on five Americans charged with terrorism in Pakistan, it neglects to point out they are nationalized Americans.
My husband is a good decent man and isn't radicalized in his religion. I'm not so sure I can say the same about a couple of his brothers however. But everytime I feel myself slipping and thinking it's time we fought back against the tyrrany of the Muslim religion, I think of his mother. A saint. She has never and will never harm another soul on this earth, regardless of their religion.

Cleaning Cures my Writer's Block

• I started this morning raring to go on Chapter 7. I got as far as turning on the computer, opening the file and staring off into space.
• I never have trouble getting started so why can't I get past this hurdle?
• Instead I could only visualize the fungus growing in my refridgerator. Naturally the only response possible is to turn off the computer and clean it. I mean scrub it, wiping off each tiny black mar off the otherwise pristine surface.
• Now you ask, once that chore was accomplished was I ready to tackle the VRC's attempted takeover of the Association-Chapter 7?
• No, but I swear to God my milk tastes fresher.

Why Saturday Gives Me Head Aches

Well yet another week has passed but this one is special.

I have to accept that the novelty of 2010 has worn off. I mean just how long can you go around wishing people Happy Holidays, which encompasses the entire season, much less Happy New Year?

The answer is comfortably until January 3rd after that it's just overkill. My week has been unbelievably busy with work but I hope that's not an omen for the rest of the year.

It's not that I don't want to work, it's just I want to get paid for it. So far in 2010 I haven't earned a dime. I might mention that I haven't had a day off and that includes New Year's Day itself. I really really really want to get paid!

Even my resolution for this year was about money. I have decided to lose 285 pounds that will translate into liquid cash. I've decided to knock my kids, ages 21 and 22, squarely off my back; thus losing the weight and gaining the cash in one swift maneuver.

I'm giving myself until Monday to see cash or kick my butt. Keep you posted!

Dealing with Holiday Overload

Thank God it's over or Dead God I miss it, pick your poison.

Mine's I think I missed it. Usually my holidays are full of cooking massive amounts of food that no one family could possibly eat, unless you're the Klumps. I have a sneaking suspicion those guys could put away more than just a turkey, a ham, a lamb, and a slaughter cow.

My kids have grown up, got out, and forgot that once upon a time Mommy was cool.

Okay this was just a practice shot anyway, let me see if this works.