I must admit that the subject of this blog is a bit presumptuous and unvaguely self-centered.  It has to do with taking credit. A week ago,  out of about 20 people in the department I work at, I received the annual award of excellence from my company. Besides the recognition, it also contained a decent amount of cash that will come in handy during this spending season. No dilemma so far and only good stuff. Where I am having trouble is reacting to my fellow colleagues' reaction towards my winning. Three examples to make my point clear: Mr.

Staying on the theme of invitations from last blog, I was invited this week to the thirtieth birthday party of an ex girlfriend. To give context to this dilemma I would like to review some of the history with this ex. No closure. I sent her a bouquet of roses. The following week she was engaged to someone else. Now she is no longer engaged and I am still single. The invitation was not straightforward though. It was through e-vite and I was invited along with forty three other people. Many questions are swirling in my mind.

Eid, Xmas, New Year’s – yes, the holiday season is upon us yet again!

Tis the season to be jolly, so all you single gals better be prepared. There will be men-a-plenty this holiday and the competition will be fierce. All the eligible bachelors will be back home for the holidays and that means they will be on the prowl. Now, am not sure whether that’s a good or bad thing, but if there’s flirting involved, then it can’t be so bad now can it?

Last Monday, I logged on to my facebook account and saw that I have three new invites from people to become their friend.  The first invite was from a guy named Mohammed who lived in Pakistan. Nice picture. Works as a banker and has graduated from a decent US university. One Problem: I don't know the guy. I have no idea who he is and how he even got my facebook details. Ignore him I do. Dealing with the second invite was not so straightforward. Her name was Samar and from her picture Samar was an 8 out of 10.

No, I’m not capitalizing on the Obama tag line, but yes, I can – Cook that is.

However, I don’t want to!

Let me clarify; it’s not that I don’t like to cook, because I do, its just that I neither have the time nor the necessary inclination for the preparation that comes before, or the clean up that comes after a cooked meal.

Does that make me a non-conformist? A bad mother? A useless wife? An unfeminine woman?

Being a single man who is very seriously considering the idea of tying the knot, I got an insight last night on the concept of how the grass is not always greener on the other side. For three hours and a few minutes, I hung out with two very dear friends (one male and one female). 95% of the time was spent discussing the whole concept of marriage (5% was spent on trying to explain to the waiter, Mohammed, that it was OK if he spoke Arabic to us). The reason my friends brought up the subject was not that they were unhappily married, god forbid.

I’ve decided to succumb to my deep dark secret addiction (just this one time), and find myself back at the mother ship (a.k.a. Burger King Drive-Thru) picking up some extra large fries. I convince the guy to fix me a fresh hot batch – after all, if I’m going to succumb, might as well make it worthwhile!

Fall has come upon us and along with the first chill, we are starting to experience, the first wave of female fashion faux-pas. I know that you would not usually expect a fashion-challenged male to make these kinds of observations but the severity of the atrocities make them ever so noticeable.  Here's my top three.

1.       No more sandals. The more you are exposed, the more body heat you will lose. (Exception if you are Jessica Alba… Google it if you don't believe me)

Seriously. It is.

The MRIs are done and the diagnosis is clear. "Two herniated discs", the doctor tells me, "you need to stay home for two weeks lying on your back". I cringe at my unfortunate fate as I get up from the examination table and head towards the door. I cringe more as I receive the bill for the ten minute visit and the one hour wait.