However in 2012 in Kuwait, I say they are insane… And I can hear the music! 😀
Life is all about those random moments you see and you wish you had a camera. Luckily for me I captured this epic Dancing in a mall and I would like to share it with you all so you can feel the insanity I talk about
How awesome would it be to have the life of a WAG? Well one fateful night in Dubai and we very nearly came close! We don’t just socialise with the lower classes, me and Jewsconsin. No we headed for the classiest joint in town, clad in our ‘New Look’ bargain bin dresses, with about enough cash for two drinks each max and swanned in like we owned the place biatch!
We don’t really pay when we go out, meself and herself. A blend of her bootylicious American ass and my bubbalicious Irish boobs, the combination of two white blonde gals and the fact that we’d entertain just about anyone’s tepid attempts at a chat up line just long enough to get a cocktail bought.
We outdid ourselves this particular night. Captain of West Ham United himself Mr Kevin Nolan came over for a chin wag. Lovely fella I have to say but he’s from Liverpool and with that accent and the pumping tunes of LMFAO blaring down her earholes poor Jewsconsin was having big trouble deciphering Kevin’s dulcet Scouse tones. Jewsconsin’s View
We then made our way to the dancefloor and met some fine looking Latino lovlies who double as cabin crew for Emirates. Ended up at a session at their house. All the men were topless. There was no explanation given for this behaviour. If that happened in Ireland I’d be hollering ‘Jaysus lads no one needs to see that, put it away fellas’. I tell you honestly, no such words needed to be uttered this night 😉
After partying till dawn, we got a lift home from a chap who offered to take us to Abu Dhabi. Merely a quick spin 45 mins away, who knew!? But since a) we didn’t know this dude and b) we were still dressed in our bargain bin dresses (minus the heels and with that oh so sexy ‘I’ve been dancing all night there’s a slight air of sweaty fuzz to my hair’ look) we decided to head on home.
It was 6am
We were in the limbo that can only be described as “drunkover” (not quite drunk but nearly starting the hangover). Breakfast, we thought. Breakfast will stave the hangover!
Dressed in our luscious pyjamas we headed on over to the dining room.
No one else was in PJs.
We knew it was time to go to bed, but we desperately didn’t want a hangover and we needed food. So we decided to bring the food back to the room… I’m gonna let Jewsconsin tell you the rest. It might be used against me in a court of law if I discuss it you see
To say my life for the last 10 years has been a dramatic one would be something of an understatement. Since I left the good ‘ol Emerald Isle when I was 18 I have had more ups and downs than the proverbial rollercoaster. So after one too many vomit inducing rides on said English ‘coaster, I decided to move to Kuwait.
Let me tell you what I knew about Kuwait when I signed the next two years of my life away… NOTHING!! Geography and Politics have never really been my strong point. Locating a city in Ireland was always something of a challenge, so trying to find a country like Kuwait on the map was damn near impossible.
A quick consultation with my good friend Google told me that it was bordered by Iraq and Saudi Arabia (not particularly appealing to a blonde, white girl) and that it had been bombed in my lifetime (I know I’m getting old like, but my lifetime doesn’t exactly span centuries).
So you’re probably wondering why I said yes? Well, the recession had hit the North of England bad, I’d had just about enough of English men, all my friends (even my usually dependable drinking partners- the gays) were getting married, shacking up, having kids… That sort of adult behavior that had so far escaped me. Plus there were upsides to Kuwait. Living in the tax free Middle East sounded like a dream, the job offered was a superb position that would’ve take me another 5 years hard work and ass kissing in the UK to secure, it’s sunny 90% of the year, oh and they did mention something about having to go to Orlando on an all expenses paid business trip for 90 days that might’ve swung it!
So on September 25th, after a marathon journey getting my visa processed between Dublin, Manchester and London- involving planes, trains, buses and a ferry thrown in for good measure, there I was sat in Manchester International Airport. I’d done many many tearful goodbyes, none more so than when I left my Mum sobbing at the departure gate. There I was sat in the Emirates lounge heart heaving from my cries with several fellow travelers wondering what the hell was exactly wrong with me. Sad, happy, excited, apprehensive. I’d really gone and done it now hadn’t I?