Confessions of a Canadian studying in the US

The transition to the US must be the easiest, after all, Canada is America's little sister right? So what's been different in this place? Well for one, people are amused by my fascination with how 12-16oz coffee cups are considered "small", how the tax at the end of the bill never really surpasses $2.00 and why I am bitching about paying for medical insurance when "back home, this is free."

The US is ghetto - this is something I knew before, however, now that I am actually living in the ghetto, I can tell you, Canada really has no ghettos. The "ghettoest" place in Canada is sometimes considered a middle-class neighbourhood here. There is no balance between the rich and the poor here, it feels like Central and South America. Take a turn on the wrong block and grab your vest. Take another turn and make sure you don't get hit by one of those giant yuppie strollers.

Other observations? Here are a few from my short time here:

• The word "caramel" is said strangely here. It's like "curmel", or maybe because I studied in French me pronouncing it "ca-ra-mel" is bizarre.
• Pronouncing letters like "T" is forbidden and straight up weird. Baltimore becomes "Ballymore"
• Flyer is written "flier"
• Just like the Arab countries, spelling here is inconsistent, example: "Centre Street" and once or twice I saw "theatre" as opposed to "theater".
• If you thought Service Canada was a mess, wait until you go to the social security office.
• Accents are difficult to decode, example: "d'you stull wan' a sureal?" (do you still want the cereal).
• I am collecting too many discount cards - it's like every chain has one. And the savings are legit. I saved a lot of money at Safeway and bought more than six things at a big chain pharmacy (Rite Aid) that added up to $25 (unlike Shoppers, where, if you buy two items, you've spent $23, no matter what you bought).
• The term "going up to the cottage" or even just the word "cottage" is not used here. I was asked what I meant by several people.
• I have to attend the orientation sessions with international students, yet every international student is curious to know why I sound like an American but am considered an international student.
• You know that ring engineers wear on their pinky once they graduate in Canada? They should start implementing that here, there's been some very questionable engineers dealing with massive demolition projects (i.e can't answer basic questions or begin to comprehend the meaning of decontaminating soil).
• Appetizers are totally meals here.
• Everyday I feel like I'm living a Spike Lee movie. Or just an American movie.
• Here, people aren't passive aggressive. Except maybe some. Students, mostly.
• Spotify, Netflix, Pandora, Amazon Prime...I can't keep up with all these things that aren't available, or have limited availability, in Canada!
• The word "curated" is too loosely used here. It bothers me. Maybe it's just an art school thing.

The yuppie's guide to protests

Having been part of the activist community for many years, I've learned a thing or two about organising protests - on both sides. Here's a handy list that you can use to get started on your next rally.

PS: This mostly applies to a Palestinian protest with an Israeli opposition on the other side. PPS: This blog post is not attempting to undermine my peoples, I do after all attend them and believe in the cause, I just also think we can change a few things about them to make them more efficient and make a statement.

Palestinian side

1. A loud woman on a mega phone yelling out the slogans and constantly reminding you of her refugee status: I want to mention that this may just be a Toronto thing because in other protests I've attended across Canada, this wasn't necessarily the case. She yells slogans like "Stop the Killing stop the crime, Israel out of Palestine" and "No Justice no Peace" but she stops, takes a deep breath and likes to tell you a story about where she's from and how she was exiled and all that. Sometimes it feels like the entire Palestinian story happened to this girl (Nakba, Naksa, Black September, Lebanon, Sabra and Shatila, Gaza) so you start wondering.
2. Someone performing spoken word poetry: If there's one thing I hate, it's spoken word poetry. There are over 800 reasons why I dislike it, which I won't get into, and for some reason there is always someone who wants to perform spoken word poetry at rallies. Unfortunately this is like the worst kind too.
3. Gaza: If there's one thing that's really bothering me about the conflict right now it's the separation of Gaza from Palestine. I can't help but get angry when I hear "Free Palestine, Free Gaza" as if the two aren't the same place/people. This is wrong and must be corrected and when you tell people they just look at you, shrug their shoulders and continue chanting it. Another thing that's always noticeable at rallies is that they bring someone from Gaza to speak. Usually this person has never been to Gaza, or visited once in 1995 and has some family there that discuss the situation with them but that's about it. Although they are really connected to Gaza it doesn't make them a credible source. In my opinion, if we changed their role from someone speaking about the situation to just someone giving an inspirational speech that would be better.
4. A previous revolutionary from either the PLO or PFLP to speak: Ahh the glory days! This is a staple event - the man never refers to his past, you just know who he is if you've read some books. He serves as the "motivational speaker" getting the crowd going and excited. Usually the man is a total 3ammo (uncle) wearing a leather jacket, a plaid shirt with a pen in the pocket, probably has a mustache, wears khakis and chain smokes. You relate to him because your dad most likely resembles him. Not mine though.
5. The Keffiyeh: The dude who only goes to Arab parties to meet girls decides to attend his first protest. His contribution? A keffiyeh. Also, everyone who owns a keffiyeh wears it on a day when a rally is taking place, it's the code.
6. Someone selling Marxist magazines: Rain or shine, these homies are there selling.
7. An elderly passing out flyers: Just like the Marxist magazine sales people the old folks are running around the crowd (rain or shine) passing out "flyers". Usually they aren't flyer size but either 8.5x11 or 11x17, typed with comic sans or times new roman and include way too much information. Let's get creative with visual communication materials, as I discussed here.
8. The backwards flag: No matter where you go, this is a staple item. The flag is backwards. Why? Don't ask me, it just happens...every. time.

Israeli side

Yep, those are rockets in the Palestinian flag colour

1. The core seven crazy members of the JDL: You can't have a protest without "The JDL Seven" as I call them. These homies will say whatever is on their mind. Like internet trolls, they scour the city for information on where a Palestinian related event might be and make sure to cause some trouble. I'm surprised no one has arrested them yet. Actually, that doesn't surprise me at all.
2. Offensive signs that if the other side had a sign with similar language we'd all be in jail (exhibits below)
3. Signs with slogans that are irrelevant: Usually talking about Islam and Sharia Law, they have nothing to do with the conflict, save us the 9-11 discourse.
4. Nationalist songs: They need to take slogan advice from their Egyptian neighbours
5. That crazy woman who walks around the city calling people "anti-Semites" and "self-hating" (usually found in Yorkville): She rips posters off poles and harasses anyone near them.

That reads "Sharia is the end of Freedom"

Maybe a little research on this topic will do you some good. Here's my reco: A History of Modern Palestine: One Land, Two peoples by Ilan Pappe

That reads "Stick the Nakba up your Wazoo"

Conversations with tourists

In Haifa, we met a couple from Austria. I'm 100% sure they thought I was a spy.

"A long time ago, this guy from Germany decided to go to Albania and pretend he was the King of Albania. His reign lasted three months!" she says.

"That's crazy! I wish I could do that, claim royalty somewhere, but nowadays it's impossible," I say.

"How did they not know he was not the King of Albania? And why did it take three months?" my friend asks.

"Because back then, there was no google. You had to take a ship, wait for it to arrive to Alexandria, let them check the references in the old library, realize he really isn't the King of Albania, send a ship back to Albania and inform the court," I respond.

Conversations at the dental office

Mix the yuppie with the Philipino receptionist and the Eastern European dental assistant discussing night guards.

Receptionist: "(...) and you can make sure with your insurance that the dental guard is covered."

Guy who just finished from dentist: "I will"

Me: "So I see the latest dental scam: this is the third person to walk in here you recommend a dental guard to. You've moved away from the electric brush sale then?"

Me: "How long do I have to wear the night guard for?"

Assistant (with heavy accent): "All the time"

Me: "Are you serious? What happens when you start sleeping beside someone, like you have that on?!"

Assistant: "Haha, yes yes. You know funny story, my husband and I both have night guard and we used to stand beside bed and watch ourselves put it on and laugh!"

Receptionist: "Yeah, sometimes you'll wake up and there's drool everywhere, happens to me all the time!"

Me: "That's really disgusting."

Assistant: "One time, or often actually, you'll wake up and won't find your night guard. One time, I wake up and I couldn't find it. I started panicking looking for it.

Me: "Seriously? Where did it go? What if it ends up on the other person somehow? Like how'd you pull it out it's practically impossible?!"

Meanwhile, the receptionist is on the floor dying of laughter, pointing at me, claiming I make her die everytime.
Me: "You guys are just adding to the endless sexy possibilities of having to wear a night guard at night. Is there no alternative?"

Assistant: "Stop the grind. Don't worry, he'll love you with or without night guard."

Monkey goes to rehab

Now the question is, is there a smoking section at the zoo?

-------------------------------

MOSCOW (Reuters) - A Russian chimpanzee has been sent to rehab by zookeepers to cure the smoking and beer-drinking habits he has picked up, a popular daily reported on Friday.

An ex-performer, Zhora became aggressive at his circus and was transferred to a zoo in the southern Russian city of Rostov, where he fathered several baby chimps, learned to draw with markers and picked up his two vices.

"The beer and cigarettes were ruining him. He would pester passers-by for booze," the Komsomolskaya Pravda paper said.

It added he has now been transferred to the city of Kazan, about 800 km (500 miles) east of

Moscow, for rehabilitation treatment.

Story from: Reuteurs

Photo source

Yuppie Activist Throwback

A lovely lady told me to revisit some of my favourite Yuppie posts so she can read through them without having to browse all day through my archives. I've already counted down before here so these are going to be ones I haven't thrown back to (I would really click on that post there are some great throwbacks). It was difficult to only pick eight of a few of my favourites, and here they are (from June to October):

• Justin Bieber's video "One Time" is dissected, like only the Yuppie can do it
• I asked my hairdresser if she's ever known a good hairdresser that got their start at First Choice
• A new boycott, which has nothing to do with my left wing tendencies
• Life takes messed up turns, then you have to make decisions
• Friday night concert
• Great gifts for those Moslem friends of yours
• I talk to lots of people other than my hairdresser
• Make Edward Said proud

So what's your favourite yuppie post of all time?

Guide to being [really] Arab: Cross Cut like an immigrant

This morning, the Toronto Star's cover story is about Jaywalking. I was surprised that I, notorious for this act, was not pictured. Upon reading the article, I realize how stupid it is to get fined for jaywalking. $85? Is that how much you're trying to squeeze out of my paycheque alongside all the other ridiculous things I pay for? Check out the lines in this story, the opener is GOLD: "They are ruthless. They are fearless. They are breaking the law. With a phone in one hand, lunch in the other, they are also impressively persistent. Nothing, it seems, can thwart a Toronto jaywalker in progress: not the fear of being ticketed, not a horde of speeding cars nor even the daunting size of a truck passing within inches." Listen, those that are jaywalking while staring at their phone are not jaywalking...they are not paying attention. True jaywalkers cross in the most absurd conditions because they are pros. True jaywalkers know not to look at their phones. Those that stare at their phone have what we call A.D.D.

The writer continues, "(...) some of them even forcing a police car to stop to let them cross. The officer could have given the dozen pedestrians tickets or at least warnings." Um, hey, did you know that there's other crimes going on that are more important than someone crossing the street illegally and maybe that's why the cop was like "whatevs"?

It is my choice to put my life in "danger", if danger means the two way streets of Canada sans median. The streets aren't dangerous. In Jordan, you cross a highway. In Egypt, you have .001 seconds to bolt or get hit. I can't even begin to describe India. In Eastern Canada, drivers stop even when you're not intending to cross. In Toronto, people stop. In Montreal, they might. Now, just because I've lived in North America for 21 of my 23 years of life, does not mean I will not continue to cross the street like a Middle-Eastern person. People, remember, I am a Middle-Eastern person! If my sense of humour, cleanliness, generosity, and complaints didn't give it away, then my love of jay walking sure will. Also, remember, we "cut" the street, we don't "cross" it (see your parents for references).

I've crossed the roundabout in front of the Arc de Triomphe, not to say I did, but because I needed to get across from the Champs Elysées to the Arc and I wasn't about to go around...in heels, okay? I can't stop my crossing ways. If the traffic light is two steps from me, I will still jay walk. I've almost gotten run over by various vehicles and streetcars (the 501 put your hands up) whether by biking or walking. I also do random crossings during storms. So you see friends, it's in my nature to cross in the most inappropriate manner. I survived the Middle-East where crossing the street is the equivalent of crossing a highway here, so I'm pretty sure my jay [walk] can handle North America. And if I do get run over then I'm pretty much blaming one of you for cursing me, cause that's the Middle-Eastern thing to do.

Love love,

the yuppie activist

P.S. Here's a video of the "walk" sign in Egypt. Note: he's running.

image source: http://www.redkid.net/generator/walk/yoursign.jpg

Conversations with papa

"Why have you not accepted my friend request? Did you not like my photo or something?" He asks.
"Excuse me?" I respond.
"You know, facebook?"
"Dad, seriously?" I ask.
"And your sisters, they also requested friendships from you."
"No I had one of them on there and she removed me," I say.
"How come?"

A week later, my mom wants to connect with me on LinkedIn

"Are you going to see Doriad Laham? He'll be there I think."

"I don't know baba," I respond.

"Did you know he's Muslim? He just has a really Christian name, everyone thinks he's Christian," he tells me.

"Did you google him?" I ask.

"No no, that internet non-sense is your mother's job. I heard it from him in an interview with Al-Jazeera."

Says the man with the Facebook account

"I don't understand why there is always problems with the transportation system when there's a change in the weather. Living in Canada, you should be used to it. Weather is the only thing that you should become an expert in while living here," I say.

"Stupid people in this country. You know who else is stupid?" He asks.

"Arabs?" I respond.

"The ones that follow them here."

On his countless regrets.

"What would you do if I got arrested?" I ask.
"If that happens I'd really rather you end up in an Israeli jail than an Arab jail. The Israeli jail is like five star compared to the Arab one, and there's more chances of you getting out," he responds.
"So you wouldn't be mad?"
"No, I'd go kill the leader of the country that arrested you."
"It would be pretty cool if I got arrested though," I say.
"Yeah, it would be."
I love you too baba.

Guide to being really Arab: The Table Dance

There comes a moment in every Arab's life when they don't want to dance so one engages in the act of the infamous "table dance." Both men and women partake in this. Here's how you can join in too. This post is dedicated to all the Waterloo boys, you know who you are.

Name: The Snap

Action: Snap your fingers. Make sure to close your eyes and wave your head.

Performed when: Arabic pop songs come on and you should be crossing the dancefloor.

Name: The Khaliji Wave

Action: Shake your hand like you're having convulsions, mostly placed near your head.

Performed when: Khaliji songs come on. Substitutes you having to wave your hair from side to side. Also when there's a lot of drumming and some dabkeh songs.

Name: The Shamee Dabkeh Finger

Action: Wave your index finger. Again, near your head.

Performed when: Dabkeh songs come on. Instead of stomping your feet, you're showing solidarity by waving the index finger.

Name: The Clap

Action: This move is versatile. If you're a girl and you really like the song that's playing but no one wants to dance, stick to the table and do the clap. You'll be called a bad name if you get up and start dancing by yourself. For dudes, if you can't dance and really like the song, again, table. Merely clapping is evidence enough you want to be on the dance floor. The clap is also used when a woman is dancing and a group of men surround her by going down on their knees and clapping by placing their hands towards her. This can be performed at the table also, just make sure there's a girl doing "The Snap" across from you.

Performed when: Arabic pop songs, the really belly dance worthy ones. Shik. Shak. Shok.

Chez nous

"Excusez moi madame, votre carte étudiante SVP?"
I take it out from my wallet. The classic white student card with the old crest. None of the kids around here remember how things used to look, and I've only been out 1.5 years.
"Merci, mademoiselle."

"De rien."
I'm in. It's 12:15am, I'm coming back from the Guerilla Magazine party where I was mistaken for my sister a few times and asked if someone's ever told me I resembled Demi Moore. Yes actually, my mother. And thank you for the kindest of compliments.
I'm wearing lipstick and heels, but I'm going to see a friend at the library who is now in law school. I stare at the sign that reads "pas de nourriture chaude." I smile. It was my actions that got that sign up there to begin with. The infamous pizza order on the third floor during my fourth year, and maybe a variety of ethnic foods courtesy of U of O's ethnic population. Van Wilder? No. I graduated in four.
I take the elevator up. The jogging pants, UGG boots and girls that drink too much and take birth control stare at me. Once upstairs I get the looks from "studying" students, i.e. students awaiting the slightest distraction to look up. This is where I made most of my friends, looking for distractions in the library and not studying. I don't recognize one person. I used to be able to tell you who everyone was.
Near staircase B, we discuss his visit to Lebanon.

"Where'd you stay, Beirut?"

"No my family is in Saïda," he responds.

"Saïda, there's a hospital named after my uncle there. Where else did you go?" I ask.

"Everywhere. I even went to Baalbek. Man the meat pies there are amazing!"

"Oh man I want a meat pie so bad right now."

We chat about how everyone is so young and then we take out our ancient student cards. The first, second, third or fourth year students behind us are staring. The photos are fading. And it's not the unrecognizable faces that surround us that make us feel old, or how our faces have changed, but how the picture is fading, and how the cards are discoloured and how I feel I've been away for so long. Oh my, it feels good to be back, even if it's brief, because this is the place where most people will answer your text messages that contain sentences like "for a limited time only I'm in town. Meet me now!" And most of the time, they will meet you, wherever you may be and for however long you are staying.

Timothy's the Glebe is Timothy's the Leb. Only in Ottawa.

Speaking of Ottawa, my friend Lamb-Ice told me about this video below and asked me if I knew the guy that made it. I said no, but it turns out I do, he was in my program at Uni. Good job Abbas, it's quite the accurate portrayal of [almost] every Leb in Ottawa!

Jetpack, or how I figured out how to get across checkpoints

Last night, a brilliant idea came to me. I merged my love of Boba Fett, human rights and innovation and created this:

"JETpack: for wherever the IDF decides to take you"
click image to view larger
Thank me when you get through Kalandia in under five.
Photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/michaelimage/504743509/

Conversations with my mother

"I've been published mom, in print!" I tell her, happily.
"Send me the link honey!"
"Print mom, print!" I say.
"There's no link?" She asks.
"Paper."

"Your grandfather wants me to tell you to stay away from politics. He says live life and forget about this nonsense."
"Life would cease to have meaning," I respond.

"You know your dad's second cousin's wife's dad? And your late grandfather's brother's wife?"
"Yeah what about them?" I reply.
"Well they got married. She's 68, he's 80."
"Woah," I respond.
"I know, your father and I spent the entire day laughing, I almost left work!"

"Your grandfather also told me about his new venture. Hooking up widows his age."

"I came back and the house was a mess so I spent the entire day cleaning. I mean you know how your sister is, if death came knocking on her door she wouldn't get up for him."
- her love of directly translating sayings from various languages to English.

Conversations of the week

Leaving the Holts Media cocktail:

"Next season, I'm going full out Arab at fashion week. What do you think people would say if I wore my revolutionary scarf like a chador?"

"Anything you do just looks cool, why is that?" she asks.

"It's because I'm Arab," I respond.

"That makes sense."

Moral: although no evidence proves this lately, Arabs do it better.

At whose house again?

"You boys want to put your pee pee everywhere, then when it comes to marriage, you want a girl who hasn't seen the light of day."

"Yes, one with low mileage," the tall one answers.

"But how do you count the mileage, like if she was with someone for two years or just with a lot of people?" he jumps in.

"Air Miles doesn't count how long you stay on your trip, they reward you with miles based on how many trips you take," I respond.

"Makes sense."

Moral: no matter what boys tell you, they still want low mileage.

At the store:

Coffee shop guy comes in and asks store owner,

"what are you doing?"

Store owner points at me and says,

"talking to my future wife!"

Coffee shop guy: "Keep dreaming."

Moral: Listen to coffee shop guy, he's got it right.

What Arty said:

I finally bought a pair of glasses, they're okay. Kind of look like a hipster asshole, I dunno, they're pretty standard and classic but like would actually wear them in public? I also got my sunglasses back. They're nice...I guess. They have like this real British look to them. Not so much the boppin' twiggy era London look to them, more like the teenager walking down a street in Newcastle look. They're pretty big...not sure how comfortable I am in them.

Moral: Arty is hilarious.

Fashion Week diaries, Spring/Summer 2010

With LG Fashion Week in full swing right now, my agenda is filled with shows to cover, events to attend, and housekeeping items to tend to. Like any "fashion person", I have pieces I hold dear in my closet and will wear them until they no longer have shape of their former glory. My oxfords (of which two more identical pairs grace my closet) are on their death bed, the buttons on my Napoleon coat are getting stuck between bodies on the TTC and popping out (ugh rush hour), and my tights are waiting for a run to come through them. Luckily, there aren’t many off site events to attend. On day one, I attended the Holts Media Cocktail and “how to walk in heels” at Chasse Gardée. There was a memorable moment at the Holts cocktail, courtesy of Robin Kay. No, she was not drunk, or trying to sell us a dime that’s top of the line, it was this quote: “And now we have our own group of seven.” Robin, baby, the group of seven is Canadian.

Holts media cocktail

I encountered various problems so far this season. In the media room, the computers that are the size of bunnies are DEATH, almost like the one I type from right now, the internet is slow, and the room is crammed. Missing this time is the kit-kat, coffee and champagne from last season. New this year are the benches in the Fashion Environment, which are better than the seats from previous seasons, except the no coat check thing makes sitting on benches more difficult because I can’t put my coat anywhere and since the weather is unpredictable, I can’t even dress for these things anymore.

Hometown girl Jasmine walks the runway for Travis Taddeo

Travis Taddeo finale

Yesterday was my crazy busy day with tons of things to cross off the agenda. I had to run from Liberty Village to pick up an essential package for a designer showing tomorrow in the St-Lawrence market, run back home, change, get to the tents for a few shows, run out to the Annex for a meeting (which ran late), run back to the tents, got to the show that actually started on time that I had to cover but missed due to incredible amount of people, hung around for the rest of the shows to cover, ran home, gave the designer her package, wrote my articles, and went to bed. Phew. Today is all about the Mimrans and so I’ll jump into my Lungta de Fancy and head over to the tents and end the night at Shadowplay – Carte Blanche always throws a good party. Keep up with my fashion week coverage on blogTO.
photos: blogTO

Orientalism

There are many reasons to feel unfortunately Arab. I mean check out the news and behaviour of some of the citizens, our leaders, etc. Sometimes, Arabs get mistaken for Persians (see below) and other times, we get branded as Ginos (or Guidos).

Exhibit A

Ginos are a staple of our culture (we're definitely close second to Italians). The selection of boys you can bring home to papa consist of guys that look like this (see below). Very unfortunate. This example is best presented by Karl Wolf.

Habibi, can you even speak Arabi? No. You know "yalla" and "habibi". You also said "yalla habibi" to Rime instead of "yalla habibti". Rime won't help you speak Arabic either, she's Moroccan, most Arabs don't understand her. Here are some free Arab lessons that will make you buy some Arabness using words I caught from your smooth lyrics:

Hey boo=hi ya darling (blend of Arabic and Western speak here)

Alizé=Arak

Bonnie & Clyde=Raya we Skina

Flashing lights like Kanye=Amr Diab

Queen like Nefertiti=Get with the times, use Queen Rania

And if you really wanted me to believe you're Arab, you should've bought fake branded products from Syria, land of knock-offs, to make it more believable.

Exhibit B

Narcy got really angry with this song, especially its remix - see here, Busta has since apologized to him. Now off to the critique. First of all, the guy in the intro is totally Persian. Second, this song is terrible. Third, hey Dubai, thanks for like, um, giving us other reasons to be in the media other than terrorism, but seriously, acknowledge the fact that you don't represent the Middle-East. Fourth, if any of these guys went to the Middle-East, they would be arrested. Have you ever been criticized by a Middle-Eastern person? We demolish self esteem almost as well as a Jewish mother.

Embedding disabled, click here to view the video

Exhibit C

The Egyptian Yusuf Amir is totally Persian (proof lies in the guy who does the voice). The wiki about Yusuf claims he was born in Dubai although he says "we built the pyramids baby!" meaning he's Egyptian, or wait, according to the Wiki, "Arabian." Either way, the Emirati locals make up only 17% of the entire population, so it's not likely Yusuf's Emirati. And if you really wanted me to believe he was indeed Egyptian, could you of at least given him a name that is common in Egypt like Tamer, Hussein, Yosri, or Ahmad?

Conclusion: Arabs and Persians=not the same. We don't even speak the same language. How would you like it if I mistook you for a Mexican for example?

Off to the next topic, the orient in your home. Just like animals, this culture can be domesticated. Hummus has already made it in a big way. In the Western world, you can get a variety of hummus flavours, in the Middle-East, you will never be offered a barrage of choices, because in reality, there's only one hummus - don't be fooled by imitations. Couscous, argilah (sheesha, hookah, whatever), solidarity scarves, and classic beats sampled in hip-hop songs (Jay-Z, Foxy Brown's "duet" with Ragheb Alama) are all in Western homes and now you can add prescription product that makes your eyelashes actually grow longer to the mix. Latisse's product is FDA approved (which is really easy to get, sort of like the Nobel Peace Prize) and it's even endorsed by Brooke Shields! Okay, you're probably asking yourself, how is an eyelash growth product an Orient thing? The answer lies in our eyes. Example, my bottom eyelashes are longer than most people's top lashes. Mascara was inspired by people like us. Yes. True. Middle-Eastern people have crazy long, dark and full eyelashes, Western people created fake lashes to be like Middle-Eastern people and then developed a product to have it permanently.

Conversations with hair dressers

Legend:

HD=Hair dresser

Me: Guys don't really care about their haircuts, they'll go anywhere, like First Choice for example. You ever been to First Choice?

HD: No. Definitely not.

Me: Do you think a reputable hairdresser works at First Choice?

HD: No. Definitely not.

Me: Do you know anyone who has worked there and ended up in a reputable salon like this one?

HD: Nope.

HD laughs

Me: But c'mon there has to be someone, like a hidden talent working at First Choice somewhere in the world, looking for her big break.

HD: I really doubt that.

Me: But what if it's the only job she could get because it's the only place to work at in her village and she's got real talent? Like people would tell others and she'd be the talk of the town, all for under $20, and then she'd open up her own salon and it would be turned into some inspirational crummy Hollywood movie that should've went straight to video!

HD laughs

Me: Are you mocking me?

HD: You're funny. Stop playing with your hair, I'm trying to cut!

The Difference Between

Residential neighbourhood in Jordan.

The best part about malls in Jordan is that there's a security guard at the door and you have to pass by a metal detector. Every single time, I've beeped but was let through without questioning. Also, you can enter through the door on the left which has no metal detector, but will be asked by mall security, who would be too lazy to chase you down anyway, to pass by the detector. Listen Jordan, you have a peace treaty with your only threat, stop inventing ways to get some action, okay?

Sidewalks seem to have been built in the times when humans were much larger.

Aside from having the best fast food store name ever "Lebnani Snack" this caption is not about Lebnani snack, it's about how the cup holders in Jordan for take-away make more sense then the ones we have in North America.

This cost me $0.40. I'm sure you've noticed that chip bags are much smaller and so are cans. Don't be fooled though, Jordan's junk food may be cheap, but the rest of the country sure isn't.

Middle-Eastern baggage claim. Dissaray. My bags, coming from Paris, ended up on the Cairo luggage belt, the opposite of Paris. How? Look at this madness, for one.

Six months of Yuppie Activism

Sunday July 19th will mark the six month anniversary of the Yuppie Activist's inception. Six months of entertainment, of ideas, critiques, adventures, of hinting at my identity (oh if you know, you know) and so on. For those of you who weren't aware, this blog follows a pattern. The name in itself is an oxymoron, even the subtitle makes you wonder and therefore, I have made sure that posts follow this pattern most of the time, but if you weren't clever enough to get that, don't worry, it's not really obvious and what matters is you're still reading, even if you're leaving lame anonymous comments in an attempt to aggravate my opinionated self. For those of you who have been following since its debut, thanks. I'm happy to be receiving girl crush emails here and there and nice comments. Admirers are always good to stroke an already large ego, but seriously, if you take the time to write me, expect a response. For those of you who are new, bienvenue. You'll enjoy it here and if you don't laugh, check your sense of humour because there must be something seriously wrong with it.

Without further a due, to celebrate this six month "milestone" (in high school years), I've decided to put together a list of the posts with the most:

1. My first post introduced you to the Yuppie Activist. You learn my eye colour, my education, my language skills, my sleeping habits and more.
2. At various instances throughout this post, you learn I'm left wing, although I think the blog name gave that away. Here's how I plan to solve the Middle Eastern conflict for example.
3. Furthermore, if you follow me on Twitter, you realize I'm always caught in the middle of public domestics (not domestic violence), so I created a tool that makes them even more public
4. You've probably also noticed I like introducing you to talented people such as Stefania, Ashley, Daniela and Renata.
5. Meeting these people makes the Yuppie wise behind her years, although she's 23, her mind is like 30, see here, here, and here.
6. So wise in fact that I analyzed the entire immigration and university system to bring you this
7. Wiseness comes in the form of resourceful amigos and good google search techniques. I took apart someone's attempt at presenting Barbie Ottawa neighbourhood edition
8. Enough about being wise, because this is the most clever thing ever: The Simpsons. Since it's part of my life, I incorporated it into a post that teaches you how it can relate to yours
9. The Yuppie, lover of truth and stereotypes, attempts to make you laugh all the time, however, some just can't appreciate it and hide behind a shield of anonymity when they hear the truth
10. Yuppie is also a lover of finds, remember when I found the best resume? Okay created the best resume?
11. Speaking of finding things, I found Finkelstein, Dershowitz and Chomsky's "Twitter feed"
12. Finding and discovering...remember when I destroyed Toronto's shawarma?
13. There's finding and creating, readers have followed my attempt at getting a coffee table book published, and this boy's making me famous
14. On the topic of fame, I made this video viral, or so I like to believe
15. Connoisseurship, in the form of music at LG Fashion Week
16. The art of judging, taught by the Yuppie Activist
17. Part time, I stalk, and I stalked my neighbours to get sweet photos for y'all
18. Wrote a letter to Winter
19. Use my friends' confessions as writing material as I revealed insights on women's sexual habits via text messages
20. Conversed with models
21. Showed you various ways you can play with Facebook (here, here, here, here and here)
    
22. You know from reading this my favourite colour is not Lilac
23. You also know how I ended up in Toronto
24. Provided you with a look on my friendships, or just a look into how stupid a human can be
25. I let you follow me through heartbreak, and through its reconstruction
    
26. I showed you how to throw a really dope Hipster inspired Yard Sale
27. And gave you the most honest look into how Middle-Eastern people like to do weddings.
    

Those are just some of my favourite posts, the archives are flooded with stuff you just might like, or not like. Whatever flows for you, okay? Keep reading, because I still plan to be here in another six months. Thank you for reading, thank you for participating, thank you for sharing this link.

Love love,

The Yuppie Activist

Yard Sale, The Hipster Way

I’d like to start off by saying that Hipster’s* don’t have garage sales because they never live in houses with garages, only yards. However, sometimes, yard sales are also called "Vintage Sales".

Some things to note:
Do not expect to be greeted with a smile, merely a bangs push back, okay?

If you don't buy, you have no style.
All their friends will come and “hang out”, so you may think you’re inside an American Apparel, but without American Apparel prices.
Hipsters hate math, all prices jump by two or five. It’s easier that way.

If you didn't hear about it, you either a) don't read their blog, b) don't use Craigslist, or c) weren't one of the seven people tagged on the Facebook note. i.e. They don't actually want anyone but their friends to come to this thing because they don't like someone deemed unstylish buying their shit, it needs a good home, which is completely understandable.

Below is my illustrated Hipster Yard, Vintage, whatever sale.

Click image to view larger

*For lack of a better word

Weddings (Middle-Eastern Remix)

If you've ever had the honour of attending an Arab wedding, you know it's a treat, a meat market treat. Weddings are a time of showing off one's wealth, no matter how cheap the family is. Wealth is also displayed through their outfits, where their entire gold fortune is featured on their necks, arms and ears. Oh and did I mention the entire blue-red-green portion of the Christian Dior eye shadow set too? Weddings are also a time for the creativity to shine, with ideas copy pasted from other weddings in order to show their rendition of "pastiche." Your daughter had a wedding singer? Mine will have a band. Yours had a DJ? Mine will have the best in town. Yours had both? Okay now you're a show off. Weddings are also home to the best complaints from the older more “Elite” ladies. They complain profusely and compare their childrens' weddings to the one they are attending. The bride is always ugly, the groom can always be thinner, the food needs salt, the table setting too crowded, the seating arrangement preposterous, the guests dressed as if they are going grocery shopping (which they relate back to the village they come from), the cake hurts my eyes, and so on. Making a scene is necessary, because this is the time they can cause backlash in front of the entire community, and everyone knows Arabs don't like anything more than to hate on each other. It's like an Arab league meeting. Enjoy the Yuppie's guide to surviving a Middle-Eastern wedding.

Scoped:
Arab weddings are divided into areas. For single men and women (if you have not admitted to dating one of the boys or girls from the community you are considered single) goes this way: The women between the ages of 17-27 (they're marrying later these days, in Arab years) are on one table and the boys between the ages of 19-30 are on another. These tables are not visible to one another because they place mothers and grandmothers of single boys in full view of both tables for obvious reasons. Some weddings have included notepads and disposable cameras for easy go back to. Okay, I made that up, but really it’s not far off from the truth. Some things to take note of regarding the scoping technique at these weddings: if you are brave enough to get up and do the walk across the dance floor to greet the bride, you're giving them a full view for scoping, by more than one lady with ferocious eyes. Avoid all eye contact, they are trying to be discreet, let them think they are. Even if you are moderately attractive, but single, you're getting scouted, just like being at the bar Winston Churchill in Montreal. Everyone gets a shot. This is when the women accumulate their thoughts about your outfit, body type, family, status, etc and sum it up to see your candidacy for their son, nephew, etc. For example, the last wedding I attended, I made the mistake of wearing black tights with a black dress, a black headpiece, black shoes and red lipstick. I mainly wore tights to keep it conservative, that dress is pretty short, and all I had was black. I’m prime marriage age, I’m totally getting scoped. While walking over to congratulate the bride, I can feel the piercing eyes (no Hand of Fatima on me) probably saying the following: "she's so skinny, it's because she lives on her own that one, looks like a sexy widow at a funeral scoping for men. Shame. Her sister got married at that age you know, younger even, why aren't the offers coming in?" There are positive outlooks such as "well she's educated, speaks many languages, (including French that’s like 100 points for Eliteness), has a job, well traveled, comes from a good family, she's pale, not from this village and the girls think she is funny." Just also make sure not to get caught doing anything deemed “bad” in front of one of their kids, they are all rats and will use that information against you once their parents start comparing them to you.The bad, in our world, always outweighs the good. One thing you can be certain of, if your mom is not in attendance, your outfit choice will travel back to her. For example, here is what a future conversation with my mother would sound like regarding the "funeral" dress:
Mom: "Who died?"
Me: "No one did, why?"
Mom: "Why in the hell did you wear so much black? You know your aunt was embarrassed about your outfit choice? Couldn't you be more like your cousins? Such colour, femininity. Do you have to be so morbid?"
Me: "I don't conform to this crap. I can't wear green, I'm not tanned yet."
Mom: "Tan? Just like your sister. Except she does tan you burn. Keep the skin pale, they like pale. And what's this I hear your father telling me you cut your hair even shorter?"
Me: "I like it short, plus it grows back, then I cut it again."
Mom: "Like hell you will. And dye your hair, there's white in it."

Aftermath of “The Scope”:
If one of the moms, after checking you out cavity style is interested, she will go outside, smoke a Matinée Slim and discuss your various criteria with the other Elite ladies. The next day, she will phone your parents. Grandmothers usually have less shame and will literally walk up to you, give you wet kisses on the cheeks while attempting to ask you about your family that has long passed and also attempting to touch you in order to get a “feel”. This has happened to me before, except “feel” was more like “grab”. I am not kidding. It was uncomfortable as hell getting violated for this lady's grandson's purposes as my parents looked on helplessly attempting not to laugh. Anyway, let’s stick to the phone call: the girls parents, after analyzing their own criteria of said woman's available relative, which includes family, looks, health care history, delinquency pattern, friends list, facebook profile, university transcript, calls to other community members, will tell the woman they'll call her back after speaking to their daughter. The girl is informed. She thinks about it, knowing full well it’s a no because 9/10 he's kinda ugly and you know him from school as a hypocritical ladies man, a total Gino who can't do his eyebrows properly and tans too much, a loser who is balding and gossips too much, or you’re dating the other boy from the community but aren’t outing your relationship yet until he gets his engineering degree. The girl refuses, her parents ask 21 questions, then they realize she's right. Usually her dad suddenly remembers some 20 year old dirt on the family or realizes the guy is a total douche. Especially when eyebrows are involved.
Next wedding, same pattern. Vicious cycle, no escape until that giant rock is wrapped around your finger. University is only a 3-5 year excuse, their claws will grab you eventually. Scoping is one of the main reasons Elite Arab weddings are not segregated. How does the process happen otherwise? And how do we act more foreign if we segregate? We're no zealots!

The Girls who get offers:
Girls who get loads of offers are flattered and they try to act modestly but you totally know she keeps track of it in a handy document and likes to drop hints of these offers during convos with her girlfriends who say "inshallah" after the words "o3balik". Don't ever say that, you're totally desperate if you say that. No one likes that girl, and your mom will find out and yell at you for it.

Middle-Eastern Wedding Attire:
Arabs are usually conservative but at weddings this concept is thrown out the window. Shame doesn't have anything to do with your outfit, unless it is hideous. Remember to leave your wealth on your neck, the tackier your dress the better, and the best designer wins, even if the dress is super ugly, if the price tag is $800, which is like $300 more than Leila’s dress, you’re golden, even if Leila’s dress is nicer than yours.
Middle-Eastern men just love Gino attire. White shoes, belts, Mexx suits, flashy chemise colours are in full effect. Oh and three button suits are the staple of the older men with the Elite wife. There are exceptions, some of these men actually know how to dress, let’s not generalize.
When at an Arab wedding, you cannot escape the wrath of the older ladies for having a miscalculated wardrobe, white people are exempt because they think that "these weddings are the same as white ones." If you wear jeans or pants to a wedding, you're digging yourself a grave.
Ties: For Shia Muslims, men shouldn’t wear a tie, mega frowned upon, for Sunnis, or just general Arabs, wear one, you're more Western handsome that way.

Blame it on the non-alcohol:
There is no such thing as alcohol because it's already mental up in here. Do you need another excuse to tell my people to dress up and dance? Even church can be a fashion show.

Western tendencies, borrowing and etiquette:
My sister, who feels the need to deny that she goes to weddings and compares them to hers, is lying. She claims that many recent weddings have been copying aspects of hers, but then talks about how she didn't appreciate how much of a fiasco her wedding was. Someone needs to remind my sister that there isn't that much innovative stuff you can do with weddings. The head table is not new, it's Western. And God forbid if anyone decides to use the same slow song she danced to at her wedding. English music is completely forbidden, except the slow song can be English, although they'd much prefer Amr Diab or Ragheb Alama.
Anything Western, like speeches, is frowned upon, mainly because Arabs take them to a whole other level, like instead of two speeches, everyone in the family wants to talk so there’s 10-15.
Slide shows are usually no good, because sometimes they include photos of your parents and nothing stabs an Arab woman's heart more than what she used to look like.
As for amount of guests, the more, the better. It shows that you have a lot of friends and are powerful in the community. Usually, the bride and groom did not invite them, it's all the parents' doing.
Dates and Location: Be careful on the day of the week and month. Anything other than Saturday you're going to get cheap backlash. Avoid this at all costs, especially if you still have a few kids to marry off. Being branded cheap is worst than "slutty" in the community. Location is crucial. Make sure you do not choose a location where many people from the community have gotten married in the previous year. For example, a few years back, I attended four weddings at the same hotel in town. I was pissed, mainly for lack of originality and being at the same wedding four times with the difference being the bride and groom. Plus their veggie meal was horrible. And I'm open minded, imagine the others.
For the males: do not bring your girlfriend to the wedding. Even if your mother knows about her, DO NOT BRING HER. Especially if she is a skanky leather face, this makes your family look really really bad and the bride will not even get any attention because the gossipy community is focusing on the "ho" in the peach dress.
For the ladies, do not dance with your friend's cousin because "y'all grew up together and you're like siblings." The rest of the community does not see it that way. They're not THAT Western.
image source: http://images.travelpod.com/users/ashleyheacock/1.1212228060.bride-and-groom-da