FOMOing at the Mouth

A few days ago, I found myself in an interesting position in the concluding phase of a job interview. Since I don’t work in Hollywood, the interesting position was not the Missionary position (Ba-dum-bum!!) but one of a more conceptual nature:  I had applied for an internal transfer to a different division in the company I currently work for, and we had reached the final stages of the negotiation process, which involved fighting over money. Now, even though I’m Lebanese, I hate fighting over money, which is probably the reason that I will go down in history as the only poor Lebanese person in South Africa.  But, my wife and I have big plans for the next few months, so I at least need to put up some form of resistance.  When I was informed by the admittedly sympathetic HR lady (Heretofore abbreviated as ASHL) that the move would be a lateral one in terms of salary – A fancy corporate way of saying:  “We’re not giving you any more money” – I was a bit ann...

Once again, I interrupt my own train of thought for a worthy cause. This time, it is to plug my own post at my wife's blog.  Kindly refer yourself here and enjoy my recounting of the experience of sharing a room with my son.  Note that this is the first time I have shared a room with a toddler since I was a toddler, and so the experience proved both more challenging and more rewarding than I could have imagined. There is also an awesome shirtless beefcake picture of me, if you're interested.  (You know you are...) Have a gander, and check out the rest of my wife's kickass blog while you are there.

Last week's post was set up to be the first in the series.  I know this because I was there when I wrote it.  However, in the meantime, a colleague and friend, Preston Wheatley, issued an invitation for me to write for his excellent car buyer's blog, which you can find here .  Being the massively insecure former fat kid (And currently fat adult) that I am, I didn't want to start writing for the site until I had formally auditioned.  Below is the piece I wrote for said audition.  I enjoyed it, so I thought I would interrupt my series to present it here.  I hope you enjoy it, too. (Side note:  Preston tried very hard to be positive about the piece, God bless his idealistic soul, but he ultimately had to ask me to "turn it down" with regards to references to certain demographic groups.  I explained that, for this reason, I might not be a good fit for his site, because I don't really know how to turn anything down without becoming so boring...

I often wonder how people decide what is important to them. I mean, I’m not talking about important in the hunter-gatherer sense of the word.  Biology has been thoughtful enough to provide us with a pretty clear set of parameters in this regard.  We need: -           Food to act as fuel for the Meat Machine within which we are all trapped.  This fuel has spawned major industries and several minor celebrities, and I for one am a big fan of it. -           Clothing to act as a means for said Meat Machine to regulate its own temperature over a wider range.  Note that we can survive without clothes, it’s just a lot harder to do so.  (And a lot more embarrassing when shopping for food) -           Sleep to allow the Meat Machine to perform maintenance.  Even South Africa’s less-than-competent electricity parastatal o...

So, Fifty Shades of It’s Not Porn Darling, I Swear hit the market recently.  And, I have to admit, a lot of the pictures and statuses and shares and shit around it have me a little hot under the collar, but not for the conventional reason associated with this movie.  Let me illustrate why I’m irritated with a little story: In 1999, I was still a hopeful, doe-eyed medical student who hadn’t yet realized that his true calling wasn’t elbow-deep in human guts.  During this period I was also a resident at Knockando Men’s Residence, a place which encouraged an active social life, to say the least.  (In retrospect, this may be the reason why I am a former medical student instead of a current doctor…)  At some point during this year, French director Catherine Breillat released a movie entitled Romance X .  (Please note, I am going by what IMDB says here.  I can’t remember the actual chronology, and I am also a person who willingly gives himself over ...