Posts Tagged ‘lifeguard’

Tattoo taboo

May 31, 2010

Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come. That wonderful time of year when I decide on getting yet another tattoo. Only this time, it’ll be a double whammy. Here’s the story.

Sailors, as you may or may not know, are highly superstitious beings. Also, the majority of hardcore-nautical men get tattoos as a souvenir of sort, to show where they’ve been. This combination of superstitious badassness has lead to a variety of typical sailor tattoos that we see today. A common example is the anchor, which signifies stability.

Anyway, the tattoos I wanna get are a small pig on top of one foot (like just under my last two toes) and a small rooster on the other. The myth behind the pig and the rooster is a little vague, and there are a lot of variations and twists to the symbolism behind them. One explanation is that both of these barnyard creatures despise the water and will therefore help a capsized sailor swim quickly to shore by carrying each of his feet and not sinking too far into the depths of the ocean. Another tale involves a huge shipwreck, and everyone died except this one smart dude who grabbed hold of one of the cargo crates that was floating nearby. Eventually, he drifted to shore, and after a while, so did a lot more boxes. Upon opening them, he found that some of the crates housed pigs, and the others contained roosters, and they were the only things that didn’t sink into the sea. So when he explored the island to look for other people and shelter and shit, he found this native guy and told him the story (in exaggerated hand gestures) and the native as a token of luck, tattooed a pig onto one of his feet and a rooster on the other.

Regardless of how the story goes, the bottom line is always the same: in sailor superstition, tattooing a pig and a rooster on each foot will prevent you from drowning. Now I know you’re asking yourself if I’m on crack because I’m 1.) not a sailor and 2.) fully capable of swimming, so why would I consider permanently inking two random (yet delicious) farm animals onto my feet? The answer is simple. July 27th marks the end of a full year’s worth of slavery at Jumeirah. And in that time, not one person drowned under my watch. And in honour of surviving a hellish year and saving others from the water’s death grip, I will get my fucken sailor tattoos. Because it’s fitting. And they will be cute. And Jumeirah has consumed an entire year of my life, and I feel I must pay respect by honouring It with some form of permanent tribute. And I mean, I’m not retarded, like, I’m not going to ink the Jumeirah logo onto my cheek or something. So I think this is the best option.

In other news, while we’re still on the topic of tattoos, Aaron just asked me to help him come up with another design for his forearm and I’m pretty excited for it. Because the idea I have in my head is wicked, I just need to find time to get it down on paper. And when that happens, I’ll share with you the final version.

We are the world

March 29, 2010

This past Saturday at eight thirty in the evening, I was sitting on position by the pool, counting down the last half hour of my shift, when suddenly and unexpectedly I was engulfed by darkness. Jumeirah Beach Hotel, Burj Al Arab, my fucking pool, all the lights that light the paths, everything. Completely absolutely 100% pitch black. I thought we were having some sort of power outage, possibly due to a mishap involving the Large Hadron Collider, and I had to get people out of the water because I couldn’t see shit. Like, it wasn’t blind-dark (I could still see my hand in front of my face), but it was pretty fucking dark. Unpleasantly dark. Uncomfortably dark. Borderline paranoid Blair Witch Project dark.

Anyway, nine o’clock rolls around, meaning my shift is finally over, so I make my way back to base to get all the shit out of my locker. Mind you, the lights inside are on. So I was really confused. But whatever. I get my stuff, go past the security check point, and up the ramp to the street where my car is parked, and then I almost suffered a heart attack. Why? BECAUSE I WAS IN THE THRILLER MUSIC VIDEO! I’m not even kidding. It was fucking creepy: all the lights were off, the street was closed to vehicular traffic, and there were creepy-ass people walking around with torches, shuffling and mumbling/chanting like zombies.

So I called the only person I knew who could fill me in on what the fuck was going on, and  I hoped that she was still alive and not sucked into some black hole. That person was, of course, Ten.

“Dude. I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but like, all the lights are off, I can’t see shit, the roads are closed, and there’s zombies walking around my car. I’m scared. Can you please Google the situation? Are we having a nation-wide power outage? Are we being attacked by aliens? Is 2012 happening sooner than expected?” I was freaking out. “No, Ona. You idiot. It’s Earth Hour dude, duh. From eight thirty to nine thirty, everyone’s supposed to be turning off their lights for some energy conservation thing. Just hurry up and come home, I made cookies.”

Ohhh, Earrrrth Hourrr. Okay okay, now it made sense. But I don’t understand how everyone in the world knew it was Earth Hour except for me. Why didn’t I get that memo?

When I got home, I of course immediately Googled “Earth Hour” and found some pretty interesting facts and images. Next year, I’ll make sure I’m prepared.

A few signs that Someone up there doesn’t like me very much.

July 28, 2009

Okay so I know my life isn’t like, horrible. I mean, I’m not crippled, I don’t have any debilitating diseases (yet), I’m not living in a bunker made of palm leaves in the middle of a war zone, I don’t have twelve kids to take care of, and I’m not ugly. However, despite my gratefulness for having a relatively good life, I still wanna complain once in a while. These are my stories. *cue Law & Order “dun-dun”*

I’ve recently developed a new addiction, far worse than heroin and crack combined. My drug of choice is known only as Heroes, and it is the greatest and best series ever created in the history of television. That’s a fact. If you’ve never seen an episode, I strongly suggest you don’t. Unless you have exceptionally strong willpower, in which case you definitely need to watch it, but view with caution. Because it’s sickeningly addictive. Sign number one that Someone up there doesn’t like me. Because He/She creates this shit, knowing very well that I will not only become obsessed with it, but also jealous of everyone’s super powers. I wanna be Sylar. Minus the whole brain-cutting thing. Oh yeah by the way, I’m only half way through the first season so don’t ruin anything for me! Or I will cut your brain out.

Tomorrow, I officially become a Jumeirah slave. My duties as a lifeguard will include interacting with nasty demon children, saving them if they start drowning (which I initially thought was a joke, but apparently senior management was serious – I’m not allowed to drown kids, even if it’s with all my best intentions to make the world a better place), becoming a victim of skin cancer as I bake to a crisp in fifty-degree weather, exercising on a daily basis which translates to cutting down on smoking, waking up at ungodly hours of the morning and being forced to wear a smile at all times, and more. Sign number two that Someone up there doesn’t like me. There are some benefits as well though! For example, I get paid. But because I need to buy a car and a new tattoo, I have to save my paycheck and can’t really spend it. Sign number three that Someone really enjoys laughing at my misery.

As the end of July approaches, summer slowly rolls to a halt. August is right around the corner. In uni-talk, August equivocates to Hell. Because it’s enrollment period, and students sit at their laptops like hawks, and within the first thirty seconds of the classes being posted, they’re already full. Which means someone like me, who’ll be melting in the sun and will not have the luxury of Internet at my fingertips, will most likely have to manually enroll, which is a bitch. Because those people at the Registrar and the Cashier are kinda retarded and don’t really like me. Sign number… what are we on now? Four? Yeah, sign number four that Someone likes picking on me.

My beautiful baby princess Ten Ten is no longer with me. She didn’t die or anything, God forbid, but she’s about a billion and a half kilometres away from me right now. Yeah that’s right, on Venus, baby! No actually not that far; she’s in Boston. But still, that might as well be Venus. And it’s so not cool. It makes me want to fall to my knees in the middle of the road during a rainstorm, shake my fists at the heavens, and scream “WHHYYYYY?!” But since it never rains here, this is an unfeasible desire of mine. Signs five and six that Someone wants me to suffer.

Sign seven: my wisdom teeth are still being nuisances. For the past couple of years now, they have been embedded in my gums. But beneath the surface, they are angry little fuckers who wanna grow and take over my whole mouth. Unfortunately, there isn’t any space between my last set of molars and the end of my jaw for them to happily sprout out and be wise. So instead, they have decided to be conniving, mischievous bastards, and are growing at an angle, forcing themselves onto the roots of my other molars (who’re just casually sitting there, minding their own business). This chain of events is causing a gradual shift of all the teeth in my jaw. Mind you, it’s occurring at a glacial pace, and so far the shift is subtle and barely noticeable, but something must be done nonetheless. Crooked teeth are nasty. Braces are even nastier. And due to my current financial situation, I’m unable to get them removed. Although now that I think about it, I have a wrench in one of the kitchen drawers…

My hair isn’t growing as fast as I’d like it, I miss Omar and wanna go visit him, my photo printer decided to die on me today, I still haven’t found my sheet music, and I really wanna build a pool table, but I haven’t the supplies nor the skills. Signs eight through twelve that Someone isn’t too fond on me.

There’s more, you know. I could keep going for a while. But instead, I’ve decided I’d rather smoke a cigarette and then conduct research on how to make my own crystal meth lab in my bathroom, so that I have a supplementary source of income each month. If you’re the police, JUST KIDDING! If you’re a child, come to Wild Wadi and ask for the awesome lifeguard called Ona. I’ll hook you up. *wink*


June 6, 2009

Wow, for a while there I kinda forgot that I had a blog! Heh heh… oops. So without  further ado, I shall now fill in my millions of three fans on what’s been happening in my oh-so-exciting life.


Ten's promTen's graduation






  • I recently watched Terminator 12 Billion (good), Crank 2 (fucken excellent!), Monsters vs. Aliens (it had its funny moments), and X-Men Origins (fantastic!). 
  • I switched from Marlboro Lights to Marlboro Menthol Lights because it’s getting hotter and the mintyness of menthols makes me feel refreshed and happy.
  • I’ve developed some sort of sleeping disorder. Some claim it’s laziness, others believe it’s lupus, but basically I just… sleep! A lot! And I’m always tired, even after thirteen hours of straight sleeping? Is this normal? I think not. I blame it on the summer.
  • Speaking of summer, I’m a full-time lifeguard! Starting mid-July. 
  • Uhm, what else… See, my life is really quite boring. I’m getting another tattoo, I still have plans to kill Feb, I have a weird cramp in my neck, Tommy’s breath is getting worse by the second, there’s nothing good on TV, I’m supposed to be knitting (of all things), I feel like going skiing, my dreams have become even more twisted than usual, and Ma didn’t make me coffee this morning so I’m grumpy and ranting and because of my new sleeping disorder I’m too lethargic to go make some myself.

Yup, so that’s pretty much it! I promise I’ll be more blog-productive from now on. I miss being able to talk about myself as much as I want without anyone interru–ONE SEC, MA! I’M BLOGGING!

So yeah, get ready for some June madness. 


Edit: I forgot to give much-deserved credit to Aaron, for being the initiator of the Menthol trend that is sweeping the nation. Or at least my circle of friends. Kudos!

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