Definitely on the Top Ten List of Things Not To Say To the DP

some fool today was all like, “yeah well so and so can’t work because of a torn ligament in his ankle. He’ll be out on rehab like eight months but in a couple months he’ll just get disability.”

Y’all, I almost went to jail for assault. The only reason I didn’t is because these people were perfect strangers talking downstairs and they didn’t work at my job.

The reason Europe’s social welfare systems are broken are because of ***holes who sit on unemployment for a year for a meniscus tear or some foolishness. I am as hippy granola as anyone else, but getting disability for that crap is for the birds.

I mean, I have said it before on here that I should have played it smarter with my ankle and taken two weeks off at the time, but eight freakin months plus disability? You have got to be kidding me.

Crap like that makes me understand why people vote UDC.

Why should I help you if you can’t help yourself

I don’t know why I was thinking about this lately. A colleague told me a story which reminded me of another story which made me hop on my soapbox and get mad because of repressed memories from months and years ago that I didn’t get mad about at the time. Like I normally do. Anyway. I am so tired of people saying “Get me a job” or “Get me a spouse” and when I hear someone say one of those two things it makes me about go postal.

As an anecdote, albeit a related one, today at work I had to read and understand a completely bs no net worth contract in German to then enter it into a database. News flash, peeps: I taught myself most of the pitiful German I know. I had about six months of classes once a week. And I still read that stupid contract. You know why? Because the German speaker that I could have gone to to make my life easier earns more money per minute doing his real job and his time simply wasn’t worth this bs contract. But I get paid to read that contract so I needed to make it happen. And I’m a legal secretary who is supposed to be able to read contracts in German. So with my friends Google Sprachtools and Wordreference.com I made it happen. That way, next time I had a contract that was worth fifty bazillion dollars then I could use the joker of wasting the German speaker’s time. And I did it myself. I didn’t go whine to my boss that I never got to learn German at school or that the unemployment office didn’t pay for my German lessons or whatever. Back in the day, I was sitting at a bus stop once and some fool who was digging on my American-ness complained to me that because he dropped out of school, he never got to learn English and that I was oh so lucky to have learned French at school. So I was all like, “Dude, it’s called Payot. It’s called “go drop two hundred francs at the Migros school and give it a shot.” Dumb butt was like “Yeah but I don’t have any money.” If you keep waiting for that money to fall from the sky, that class ain’t gonna happen. Which reminds me of this other lunatardian, this wife of a lawyer I knew, who complained that she hated Switzerland because she didn’t speak the language and was lonely. Her husband was making a half a million a year. If she really wanted to try, I think they could have found some money under the couch cushions and sprung for some French lessons. She was college educated. I can’t even begin to rant on that dumb ho. I just think about my MIL busting it to make it happen with six kids and like 1% of the income and learning French anyway, and my blood pressure rises. Anyway. Anecdote over, but I have a point, seriously.

Muslims have the market cornered on that “find me a spouse” crap. And converts/reverts get it the worst because people always wanna know if we have a sister or a friend. Here’s a news flash: find your spouses the 21st century way, it’s called Facebook and chat rooms. It worked for a lot of reverts, it can work for you too. I’m not going to put myself out there and vouch to a friend of mine -even if I had one single and available- on your suitability as a mate when I barely even know you and my husband barely knows you. I would be so rich if I had a dollar for every time a Muslim was like, “Ma sha Allah sister, I would love to find a nice revert sister, do you know anyone? You’re in charge of finding her, ok. One of your friends, make her convert. I don’t have any money, or skills, or job prospects, but all I want is a nice white sister and I will be the best husband she ever had.” And then that person proceeds to ride my butt for six months to a year like I am their personal matrimonial service. I’ve complained about this before up in here. So screw that. Give yourself a chance before you ask my sister in Islam to give you a chance. And no I am not hating on brothers who don’t have jobs or money. I know some people with no jobs or money that are completely marriageable and awesome brothers, ma sha Allah. Why aren’t these brothers asking me to find them wives? Becuase they’re working on it themselves and have it under control. So I’m hating on people who just sit there and expect others to make the magic happen on their good name.

This job crap. I will never understand why people just sit there and complain that they can’t use a computer or can’t speak a language, or didn’t have the chance to go to school so the doors of learning are closed forever. Whatever happened to faking it until you make it? I have only met one friend I would ever “get a job” for and that is my best friend from college. That is because girl knows how to fake it until she makes it. She had like two years of French and girl will whip out every word she knows. She doesn’t know something, she learns it right there. Once she didn’t like a grade she got on a math test and went and told the teacher, “Ok so I flunked that test but since then I went to two tutoring sessions and let me ask you these questions to make sure I got it on lock for the final.” She came to him with ammo before she went and complained about her grade. That’s the person that I would “get a job” for.Whatever happened to busting it? I’m not sitting there on my hands at work pouting because I didn’t learn Powerpoint in college. If I don’t know something, I teach myself until I can get someone on board for me. It’s like in high school, no one wants to do your homework for you, but they love to help if you are sitting there trying. I’m not sitting there complaining that I am not the CEO and I am not sitting here expecting a magic fairy to realize my inherent worth and make me one. I’m not the CEO because I haven’t done what it takes to be one, I don’t have the skills and haven’t done the time. I don’t care what my “ideas” are. Ideas are like assholes. I get this. Why is it that so many people I talk to don’t? So say you never went to school, never did anything, and want to be CEO. What’s your logical next step? Wait for Donald Trump? No. You go take a language class or a computer class. Aim higher. Try harder. And then these people come back to me and act like it was all sunshine and cupcakes coming to Switzerland. I had to suck it like everyone else here. I didn’t have it easy because I “went to school.” And while I still had it a lot better than some because I wasn’t cleaning toilets, I still had to bust it. And if you are oversleeping and skipping work and going to the hospital for fake aliments, you’re not going to make a good impression on the magic fairy who is going to promote you or give you that contract. And no, my boss can’t get you a job. Why is he going to put himself out there for you if you haven’t proved to anyone that you can put yourself out there for yourself? Gaah, some people make me so mad.

*takes a deep breath, exhales*

Am I smoking crack or what?

So I flipped out today.
And I really wish people would know one thing. Don’t effing make me talk to you when I don’t want to talk to you. Otherwise me just being a little pissed off is going to turn into big pissed off because you aggravated me.

So I am part of a group that meets weekly. And let’s keep it real, while I am all granola hippy muslimah and stuff, there are a few things I don’t budge on. I like to be home for maghrib. In winter that doesn’t happen but in summer I want to be home before nine pm. Furthermore, I have a husband that commutes who goes to bed around ten. If I am out all evening I don’t see my husband that day. So if I commit one evening a week to something, no matter how much I love it, if it is going to go on at like eight and nine a clock at night, I can’t do it. Not gonna do it. And I don’t know why that is so hard to understand. I’m not mad about it, that’s just how it is.
So of course the meeting started late. Part of it was also that I had a bad day, but I get there, on freakin time, and I realize that the venue has changed and even though it was down the street, by the time everyone got their act in gear it would have been eight. Again.

So I walked out. And didn’t want to talk about it because I don’t like talking about stuff until I walk it off. So I was walkng to walk it off and it turned into drama.

Am I so wrong for wanting somethign to start on time so that I can be a part of it? And feeling like I am not really a part of it if it starts late all the time?

Ganking the Proust Questionnaire Meme

I haven’t posted in forever because life is kicking my butt big time and I tweet more lately. All I do is work and sleep, for realz. And I don’t do that much at work (well I work) so what happened to my life?
So I ganked from zee Ms Mac, whose blog is only for cool people now so I am not linking. I like to gank when I haven’t posted in a while. On to ganked meme:

What is your most marked characteristic? I am a generally happy person. Alhamdoulillah. I rant when I am cranky and then once the rant is over I am happy again. Unfortunately I don’t think my readers see that because I usually do the ranting up in here.

What do you consider your greatest achievement? Graduating from college against some stacked odds. And yeah, Ole Miss isn’t Yale but you have no idea. Very few dropouts go back and finish.

When and where were you happiest? When I was 17 and lived in four different countries for 18 months. That was some good times. I was also slightly off the chain back then, but I prefer the terms “bubbly” and “effervescent.”

What is your greatest regret? Can’t live life with regrets. Gotta keep moving. Rizk from Allah and learning from your mistakes and all that.

What is your idea of perfect happiness? Living in a house with people in good moods. I don’t complain at people and don’t like it when people complain just because they feel like opening their mouths. Life is too short and relationships are too precious for random acts of snittiness.

What is your most treasured possession? Dunya y’all. Dunya. My favorite thing I loaned to someone and it got “given away” so whatevers. It’s all dunya. I could get rid of everythign and start over and it would be all good.

Where would you like to live? Quebec. Even in the winter. I don’t care.

What is your greatest fear? ??? Allahou alim. I am afraid of stuff (skiing) but I am not like afraid of death or something monolithic like that.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself? My inability to focus when people are intentionally stressing me out so that I do not focus.

What is the trait you most deplore in others? Fake piety.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue? When people think that piety means suffering and victimhood.

What is your greatest extravagance? My makeup collection.

What is your favorite journey? Any flight I take with the Kabyle dude. He is fun to travel with. He’s my little portable dictionary, entertainment system, travel guide and chauffeur.

What is it that you most dislike? Hypocrisy.

What is the quality you most like in a man? Gentleness.

What is the quality you most like in a woman? Honesty.

What do you most value in your friends? Acting in coherence with their principles, whatever they are.

If you were to come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be? Audhu billah. But if I am playing along, a big Persian cat who gets brushed and hand-fed steamed fish all day and can choose between sleeping, being petted, sleeping, or eating out of a crystal food dish.

If you could choose what to come back as, what would it be? See above. Or a three toed sloth. Or anything that sleeps a lot.

How would you like to die? A Muslim and quick enough to shahada but not long enough that I have time to think about my impending demise.

Swiss Residence Permits and Divorce

As promised, I am going to remix an article I did in French on what happens to your Swiss residence permit if you are a foreigner and get divorced. I’m not gonna straight translate but rather freestyle this one. Gather ’round kiddies.

So you, non-Swiss, non-EU citizen, meet Prince Charming who happens to live in Switzerland. You two get married and are supposed to live happily ever after. But you don’t. Either he dies, or he beats you up, or it just doesn’t work. News flash, peeps: if you get divorced, no matter what the reason, or become widowed, you lose your right to live in Switzerland if the divorce or death happens before the five-year mark. I will be in Switzerland five years in January, but if either of us started divorce proceedings tomorrow, I would not be eligible for my C permit (rough equivalent to permanent residence but it isn’t permanent per se if you leave the country for an extended period of time) when it comes up in January, and my B permit would be taken away when it expires. I could reapply, but chances aren’t super-high as I am a non-EU citizen. It has happened and I know at least one person who got it, but she had her employer majorly go to bat for her. Keep in mind I have been working and paying taxes in Switzerland for five fiscal years, I have a college degree, speak a national language fluently, and am reasonably employable. Now sit back for a minute and chew on my white privilege. Imagine the situation if
-the foreign spouse does not speak a national language
-the foreign spouse does not have formal training and or has not worked in a number of years
-the foreign spouse has young children
-the foreign spouse is from an unsafe country
-the foreign spouse is on public assistance

In a worst case scenario, I can always take my toys and leave. But what if I was from Sierra Leone? Eritrea? Iraq? Cause guess what, friends, it doesn’t matter where you are from: if you got your permit through marriage and the marriage no longer exists, you are kicked out of the country 99.44 percent of the time. Kinda sucks. And y’all know I don’t badmouth Switzerland that much because like, I love it here, but I don’t have the “right” to be here forever.

Swiss laws regarding foreigners changed in 2008. The new law specifically mentions domestic violence as a reason to be more lenient with a divorcé(e) but the person still must fit other requirements, and in practice so far I can say it doesn’t change significantly the chances of someone getting to stay in Switzerland after the dissolution of his or her marriage.

So a recent case in this part of Switzerland- which is actually not so recent because the appeals process has been going on for years- an Ethiopian ex-asylum seeker left her Swiss husband due to domestic violence. As a result, her papers were taken away until the old law. After exhausting all appeals, her legal defense is hoping to get her case rexamined under the new law as a last shot. Sad thing is that it probably won’t happen. The added twist to the story is that she had applied for asylum in Switzerland, but upon her marriage was asked to withdraw her case, which she did because she had gotten the right to stay in Switzerland through her marriage. Had she let her asylum process continue its full course, she would have gotten the right to stay in Switzerland of her own right (although I am not 100% convinced of her chances of winning an asylum case either). Her asylum bid cannot be reintroduced.

I think it’s pretty sad that foreigners are essentially subject to the whims of their spouses when it comes to this country. Especially when it comes to domestic violence- you’re faced with the choice of staying and being beaten, or getting kicked out of the country. And like I said, if a tax-paying citizen like myself is fair game (one of the cases I read involved a Canadian with my profile who was asked to leave), do you really think the authorities are going to think twice about someone on public assistance and so on? This is where I kinda understand people who say feminism and globalization are all linked and it is all about the patriarchy blah blah blah. If you are a poor woman the law just doesn’t protect you. It’s a power thing and while there are battered husbands, let’s keep it real. Furthermore, what to say about people whose marriages just don’t work? How hard must it be to think about your marriage in terms of how long you need to stay in it in order to get out with your livelihood intact? And like I said, I have seen people keep their papers in a divorce, but they had to be completely perfect in every other area (language, job, money) and usually have their employer get involved.

Psych on Board, call Dr. Phil

Y’all. Gobsmacked. Check out the crazy here.
When I left my old job (I can work blog now that I am not there any more) I had a series of projects I had to finish before I left. One of them was something I had worked on for months, and the end product was something that had to be loaded onto a webpage. So I do the work, email the file to a colleague, who loaded it onto the webpage and then trashed the file. I left my files on the share drive.

Just before leaving, I updated the web page and spent two days on it at Mad Cow’s request. Added bells and whistles and all tha good stuff.

The Mad Cow, the reason I left, has two qualities. She isn’t as good with computers as she thinks she is and she liked to blame stuff on me. So one day, and I can’t still figure out if it was intentional or unintentional, she went in and modified the web page, messed something up, pressed a few buttons and so on. Deleted half the stuff, evidently. The webmaster takes a look because she wants him to change the page and at that point Mad Cow takes the opportunity to mention how I left the page in a mess and didn’t do my job. Luckily for me, two witnesses present had seen the original page, even though the webmaster no longer had the hard copy, so they just let Mad Cow talk.

I know you’re thinking that they could have just gone and looked on the share drive. Yeah, but evidently somehow these files disappeared from the share drive. Were they deleted because someone was trying to cover her azz? Allahou alim.

But can you believe it? As if I would leave one of my major projects half done and no one would notice for six weeks. As if I would spend two days working on something and writing code and leave a half finished page. It fits in with her party line of “DP is a slacker piece of crap” but still. I almost want to call her to tell her how crazy she is.

Interesting or not?

Might be blogging on another platform in French about what happens when you are a foreigner and get divorced in Switzerland. The short version is that you generally get kicked out of the country. Is anyone interested in the English version? If so I’ll translate but otherwise point y’all to the French.

One more before bed…

There was a post on Susie’s Big Adventure that made me wanna re-tell my black magic story. I can’t find it in my blogspot archives. But it was crazy stuff.

I ain’t gonna front but I have to say that something happened to me once…twice…that I can only think was black magic. Allahou alim. No medical reasons, and y’all know I am the hypochondriac up in here. And the scary part is my stories are weak sauce compared to some of the stuff my husband has seen. Straight up Poltergeist. Anyways.

There was this woman’s house I went to twice early in my marriage. She was sick, going through a divorce and so on. The first time we went to her house, my left leg literally stopped working as I was walking out to the parking lot. My MIL did whatever her incense and Koran stuff, I prayed Isha and went to bed. Thought I had just sat on a nerve wrong. I woke up just fine but I remember that Isha prayer like it was yesterday. I had been told at the time that a shaykh had to dispense you to sit down to pray and I thought my prayer would not be valid if I sat down. I have since heard otherwise but I’m not a ulama so not going to go there, get the facts, ask your shaykh etc etc. Painful.

The second time was much, much worse and is also the reason why I pray to God to never give birth in the town where my husband grew up. After we left her house, walking out to the parking lot I got a torticollis so bad, my head was trying to twist around my head and I started swallowing my tongue. The hospital gave me doliprane and a neck brace, which kept popping off because they would not give me anything to stop the muscle spasms. This wasn’t “my neck hurt”, this was, “I am choking on my tongue.” Crayzee. Of course there are many theories as to why the second time I was hurt more, the prevailing one being of course that it was “that time of the month”. Allahou alim.

I don’t think the lady did black magic to me. I think her ex husband left it in the house and I was just susceptible. But I won’t go back to her house again.

See, I told y’all it was weak sauce. Maybe one day I will get the husband to tell one of his talking jinn stories.

I think I know why I am sick all the freakin time, courtesy of Hippy Homeopath

Y’all. I ain’t gonna front. I am sick all the time. If it isn’t my back, it’s my foot, if it isn’t my foot it is a sinus infection (like now), if it isn’t a sinus infection it is vertigo, and so on and so on and so on.
Well some crunchy granola alternative healthcare provider told me that random aches and pains occur when we have other drama going on and that symptoms of certain health problems are signs of interpersonal stressors. My random back pain and stuffed up nose are both signs of being FED THE EFF UP. Yup, sounds about right. Over it dot com, I am.

I think I hate everyone right now. Everyone. At least the people IRL. I’ve been sick since Tuesday. And no, exercise is not going to make my nose de-stuff itself. And yes, I do expect to sit on my rather large white behind all weekend because I need to conserve my strength for work on Monday. I had this cat once, bless his heart he is gone now, who was the most laid back, easy going cat ever. He was like me in that once he was mad, he was mad. And once he was mad, he simply made one swift, majestic kitty bitch slap and then sat his fat butt back down. I’m gettin there.

Back on one of my favorite topics

It will never cease to surprise me how little regard some Muslims have for other people’s Islam. And strangely, the ones who are all rah rah Islam are the worst offenders. If you want to treat a brother or sister in Islam like crap, fine, but then don’t go and turn around and expect proper Muslim treatment.

I am so over it right now. I am really over it. The ones you trust the most are always the ones who will screw you big time. And then call the Islam card. Ya Allah. So tired of hypocritical, arrogant, fake ass Muslims up in my grill like I am the one with the problem. I’m not the one with the problem. They are, and they don’t like seeing me because I remind them of how much they suck.
Rant over.