Arabic

Spoken in: Many Arabic countries, including Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, etc.

1=wahid

2=ithunin

3=thalatha

4=arba'a

5=kamisa

6=sita

7=saba'a

8=thamania

9=tisa'a

10=ashara

Incidentally, my second tattoo has the Arabic symbol for "fire" in it surrounded by flames.

Speaking of tattoos, I got tattoo #3 on Friday! It looks fucking SWEET! It's on my lower back (ow), and it's a pretty big rainbow-colored trebel clef with a music staff around it. I drew it myself, and Dan, the artist that did it, jazzed it up for me and made it look cooler than I ever could have drawn it. I'll take a picture of it with my webcam when I get a chance and post it here so you can see it. And the best part is: it was only $60! And to think, when I got my first tattoo Amanda was all like, "Oh, you'll never be able to handle the pain." Bullshit. The whole time I was getting it done (which took about an hour and a half to do) I only took 1 break, and that was only because my foot was seriously falling asleep to the point where it really hurt. It's still sore right now. I have to wear my pants on my hips so they don't rub against it, and I can't sleep on my back. I told Tony that the missionary position is completely out of the question. Not like he's complaining, anyway.

The tattoo was a birthday present to myself. Yes, in case you haven't been paying attention at all to this diary, my birthday was Monday. I am now 20 years old, and I feel fucking OLD. Saying that irritates Tony, since he'll be 25 in December. Now he can't say he's fucking a teenager. ;)

My birthday, as a whole, sucked. Tony had to work (big surprise for the Army), so I didn't really get to see him until about 3 or so. Afterwards we went over to his chief's house and hung out with Byars and Sgt. Sun, the other 2 guys in his unit. I didn't even get anything from my dear husband until I complained, which prompted him and his chief to run to the PX, where he got me a Ben & Jerry's with candles put in it and the new Coldplay CD. And he felt so bad about my birthday sucking ass that he got drunk and tried to forget about it. Then he apologized up the ass for it and told me what he really wanted to get me was an acoustic bass I've wanted ever since I played one on our honeymoon. But he doesn't have the money for it, and he said he'll get it for me when he gets back from Afghanistan. And so far I've only gotten 3 birthday gifts: the last-minute Coldplay CD from Tony, a $25 check from my grandma and her boyfriend, and a $20 bill from my great-grandparents. My mother-in-law said her gift is on its way and my mom said that when she gets the money she'll get her gift and mail it to me. I really really really hope it's a ticket to see Eddie Izzard in Detroit October 18. That would fucking rock my world.

Time for pissed-off dissertation #5. This one's about Cane.

I met Cane one night at the mini-mall on post. He was sitting outside waiting for a friend to pick him up and asked for my number. I told him he better be still outside when I come out if he wanted it. So he waited and got it and gave me a call a few minutes later.

I think it was the next night that I went over to his barracks room. We got into a nice conversation, which led to making out. Then later on, we went out to Clueless and he pretty much proclaimed I was his girlfriend. I apparently had no say in it.

Then he started doing a lot of stuff to piss me off. One thing that majorly pissed me off, and it still pisses me off to think about it, was that he had this habit of calling me his "bitch". Now, if you know me, and you know the feminist I am, you'll know that I do NOT appreciate anyone referring to me as their "bitch." I told him REPEATEDLY not to call me that. He wouldn't fucking listen. I'd try to throw it back at him, saying he was my bitch, and his repsonse was always, "Who's the one with the dick?" What-the-fuck-ever.

And he has a major occupation with weed. After the whole Amanda thing went down, I never again want to be with someone into drugs. And I knew I was in for it when I asked him what his last meal would be and he said "spaghetti with weed." Good fucking god.

And to top it off, he wasn't that cute or good in bed. Double trouble.

So there's why Cane is on my shit list. In case you were wondering. Which you probably weren't. But I felt like telling you anyway. Hahaha.

Hopefully Tony makes up what happened on my birthday this weekend. I'm hoping we'll go to Water Safari. That would rock.

OK, I'm bored, and I think I'll keep listening to Remy Zero and reading Jack Kerouac. I've never read "On the Road" before, and so far, it's pretty fucking awesome. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. So does a cigarette break. Hmm.