M is the best.

I have just discovered how sensitive men are.  Of course, I should have known better. There simply are some things that should never be said, some aspects of a man’s performance that should never be questioned or compared. 

We went to see our good friends recently, just before Christmas, and I, trying to be nice to husband, (something I am not terribly experienced in) decided to give him some credit in front of our friends. I thought that he needs more encouragement from me, especially since he had always been very sensitive about this particular friend of ours. Because, whenever we had been to his house, he always cooked something amazing.  (Between you and me, I have to say, he is THE best. Ever.)

I never realised that Husband was that sensitive when it came to me complimenting other men. I mean, it is not like I was talking about you know, that kind of stuff. I was only saying that M is an amazing cook.  Surely, my husband is not that insecure to feel threatened by this?!

So, as we sat around our friends’ kitchen, watching M prepare our lunch, I said, very casually: 

‘You know....you used to be the best I had ever known. But, I have to say, that Husband is now coming dangerously close...I would even say he is probably the best now.’

‘What are you doing?!!! ‘The friend’s wife exclaimed in horror. ‘You can’t tell M that?! It is his title. He is the best! Ever! He is incredibly sensitive about this!’

‘Ha-ha-ha’  I said, thinking it was a joke, but M looked dangerously sulky, and a large cloud started forming over his grey head.  I came over closer, as he started butchering the slow-cooked duck. 

‘Look,’ I said. ‘You must understand. He is my husband. I have to tell him these things. But, really...- I winked at him- You are the best, we both know you are’.

Husband was outraged. ‘I knew it!’ he said.  ‘You always thought he was the best. You just love him soooo much!  You were only saying I was the best but you did not mean it!’ 

The next morning, Husband was complaining to his mummy over the phone.‘Wifey is so unfaithful’,  I heard him say. ‘She is very naughty. She just keeps going on and on about M’s cooking. He is the best, he is the best....Nobody can ever be as good as M! I will just never cook for her again!’

Honestly. Men are such babies.

And what can I say? M is the best. 

A racist asshole!

Guys, something embarrassing happened to me yesterday.

I blame lack of sleeping and maternal instinct. 

I was on my way from a coffee morning at my friend’s place and not far from her house was a Laura Ashley Home store. Having just received some gorgeous photos of my girls from the photo studio, I was obviously desperate to find decent frames to put them in.  ‘Maybe’, I thought, ‘I will just swing by the Laura Ashley shop, since it is right there’. Have a quick glance if I like any of their picture frames, you know. 

Of course, there were no parking spaces in the shop’s designated parking area. However, there were other shops right next door, with their parking bays. Knowing I would only be a few minutes, and not wanting to drag all 8 kilos of my baby girl in the car seat too far, I cheekily parked in the neighbouring bay.  I was in the shop for a few minutes and returned to the car almost straight away. 

As I placed the car seat near the driver’s door, getting the keys out of my coat pocket, a car pulled up from the road right next to me. It did occur to me, of course, that I was slightly in its way, but I assumed, naively perhaps, that it was obvious to the driver that I was only unlocking my door, and would be out of his way in a second. 

I assumed, you see, that the driver was a decent gentleman who would wait  A SECOND! before getting into his space. But oh, no. I was mistaken. He looked at me and kept driving-dangerously close to me and, most importantly, to my baby in her car seat. 

I calmly placed the car seat in the car and strapped it in, while watching the man emerge from his vehicle. 

Excuse me! I called out very politely, and he glanced in disbelief. He did not expect a foreign-looking woman with a baby to confront him. Little did he know. 

'Was it really that difficult to wait an extra second while I unlocked my car?' I continued and he walked up to me, still refusing to believe what he was hearing.

'Excuse me?' He shouted back in his very proper English. Only Brits can make 'excuse me' sound like a perfect insult.

Ah, you asshole, I thought to myself. Did you not hear me properly?  It is okay. I will repeat it, slightly louder.

'What would happen if you just waited a second instead of driving so close to my baby?' I asked again and the man started shaking inside. 

'Did you go into that shop?' He pointed to the PC repairs business in front of us.

 'Can you read what it says on the wall?' He continued in a bitchy voice.  Meaning, I was parked in the wrong bay. Whoopie Doo! What a terrible crime. Like that justifies driving over my baby?

And then something snapped inside me, and my favourite word just escaped my mouth without any warning.

You know, I said, you are such an asshole!

You don’t look like an asshole,  I added, but you sure act like one. 

I paused for a second, getting into the car, and added, before slamming the door 'And probably a racist asshole, too!'

Don’t ask me why I called him a racist asshole. I have no idea. It just came out. 

'Oh!' he shouted, glancing back quickly, 'I will tell my wife, she will be pleased that I don’t look like one!'

And with that, he ran away. 

So yes, I called an older man an asshole on the street. Into his face. And you know what? It felt amazing.

 

There is something about this word that I just love. Of course, there could be many other words I could have used on that bastard. But somehow, this particular word is my favourite. I say it out loud and my pulse stabilises and the sun starts shining again. 

I was not sure if Husband would approve of such common behaviour, and was pleasantly surprised when he supported me as I replayed the crime scene to him later on.

'You should have said you were going to call the police and report him for almost driving over your baby like that!' He said, and I thought That’s true! I should have, indeed. Instead of swearing impulsively and pointlessly like a child. But still... It felt good.

Some "me" time today.

I did something very sad today. Those very few of you who might think I am cool (I would like to think there are at least 3 of you out there somewhere in the world) will finally realize that is not the case. And such  realization can be upsetting. Someone clever once told me, that one of the saddest feelings she had ever had was disappointment in people. I am, therefore, sorry for confessing the following to you.

For a few days now, I desperately wanted to see the new Twilight movie. (Yes, I know. Pathetic is the word you are looking for) But I really wanted to see it. Also, exhausted by my baby religiously fighting sleep every night for the past two months, sleep-deprived and brain-damaged; I just felt like a break. A relaxing me time, you know? So, not only did I go to see the Twilight Breaking Down Part 1, I also went to see it:


a) Alone. As in by myself.

b) At 11am.

It went well.

At first, I got lost. I still can’t quite understand how I could manage that, considering that I have been to the very same cinema a hundred times, and know the route quite well. My brain, however, is so damaged right now, it just erratically switches itself on and off. Before I knew it, I was somewhere I had no intention of going. After fifteen stressful minutes of panicky aimless driving around, during which I was convinced my Escape to the Cinema plan failed due to such classic example of retardation, I suddenly recognised a roundabout that looked familiar; and managed to get to the cinema in plenty of time.



I then had another hmm....episode, and bought myself a VIP seat. I thought that, since I was treating myself to me time, I might as well get a fancy seat. Of course, I should have guessed, that at 11am, the auditorium would look like this

I also bought myself some popcorn. And this is what happened next

The whole auditorium, all ten of them, turned around and stared at me. I giggled but nobody smiled. Clearly, people who come to watch Twilight at 11am on a Saturday morning mean business.


And then the movie started and I really, really enjoyed it. Naked men turning into wolves, beautiful scenery, cool effects, a mother-baby-vampire love story...what’s not to like?

I even cried a few times, including at this fantastic Christmas ad by John Lewis. Watch it, isn’t it cute?




God, I need some sleep.

My Favourite Street by Nailya aka Scary aka Azeri!

(I was going to start by saying 'Thank you God..', because, as a normal human being, I need to thank someone, right? But, who do you thank if there is no God? So, I shall still use this, as a figure of speech....) Thank you, God, for my husband is back, and I don't have to be a crazed, stressed out bitch that I have been in the past 5 nights, all by myself, with two children. Yes! I know "everyone does it". I am clearly not as good as everyone, alright?

Anyway.

News!

A few weeks ago, I had an unexpected email, which started like this:

"Please excuse my intrusion into your mail box.  To cut a long story short, my email is to ask if you could write a short article (one page) for Qatar Airways in flight magazine, Oryx." 

Each month Oryx magazine runs a ‘My Favourite Street' page, and they were going to feature Baku in their December issue.

Of course, I got over-excited, did not leave the house for three days,ate a lot ( any bloody excuse!) and composed something that I hoped was good enough. 

Then, I had to sit and wait for what seemed like ages, as I was not allowed to share it with you until the magazine came out. which was today! Yay! 


So here is the link to the online magazine, but also a copy of the article. I am very excited. Now off to enjoy my well-deserved glass of wine!