Ghetto GG & Poor Man's Kim Kardashian

To begin with, since I never reviewed last week's episode of "Shahs of Sunset," I would like to take a moment to ruminate on MJ's mother's lipstick-applying skills.

The dotted line is where the lipstick should end. But, apparently, she is dead set on looking like Dina Martina. I promise you: This has nothing to do with her being Persian.

Yes.

Shahs Are Back!

All right guys, I am sincerely SINCERELY sorry, but I didn't get a chance to see the first episode of "Shah's of Sunset--Season 2" until last night. Shameful, I know.

I continue to be mesmerized.

Asa admitted to burying "$30,000 worth of gold coins" in the cement in front of her mansion doorway. MJ's mother doesn't know how to apply lipstick and, every time I look at her, I think of Dina Martina. GG has never held a job and, every time she opens her mouth, she stutters like she's about to cry a la Sally Struthers on a Christian Children's Fund commercial circa 1980s. Reza has a new friend, Persian Barbie Lilly. There's also a new guy named Omid who has a really obnoxious laugh and is clearly closeted. And, the best parts--as usual--are the parts where the extended family rear their Persian heads: There's a nasty fight with MJ's family! There's a nasty fight between GG and her pregnant sister! We Persians love our family feuds. Drama, all the way!

Anyway, no screen shots this time. No further analysis, but I will be back next Tuesday with a full review of the second episode. I'm having kind of a low week.

In other news, my father is going to D.C. on business this week, and he is taking all of my applications for a renewed Iranian passport to the Iranian embassy (or the "Interests Section" of the Pakistani embassy--whatever they want to call it). After the debacle with my identity papers (it took more than a year to get them back), we're not risking going the mail route anymore. Hopefully the passport renewal doesn't take that long and I will finally be on my way to Iran... after first having the idea now almost two years ago.

The inevitable HURRICANE post

For the first time since Hurricane Sandy, I left Manhattan island yesterday to visit Ryan and his fiancee in Astoria, Queens. The cabbie told me an awful tale of waiting seven hours in line the previous night to get gas and the gas running out before he got any. I felt bad for making him drive all the way to Queens. But I had been standing there for 20 minutes and this was the first cab I could find, and I had to get out. I didn't know what to do with myself anymore. I was overwhelmed by an inexplicable fatigue and it was all I could do to drag myself out. I needed to talk someone, see someone, anyone.

In Queens, it was as if nothing had occurred at all. We walked to a local restaurant and had dinner. I told my tale of the past week for the first time and I realized that telling the story was somehow cathartic. As I told it though, I found I couldn't keep the days straight. The whole ordeal has felt like one very, very long day. I can't believe it's been a week. All sense of time has been lost. I hope that by writing this down, I can at once expunge this restless feeling, process this, and remember it later all at once.

It's Finally Here!!

The last I heard about my Iranian birth certificate was that my father's cousin in Iran had gone to the office in Tehran to inquire what happened to it (it's been over a year since I first applied with my old papers that were no longer legal). He found out that it had been sitting there waiting for a bribe. How were we supposed to know?! If you really want a bribe, at least let us know that we need to bribe you! I'm not sure what happened next (certainly no money left my pocket), but last week, we got a FedEx notice that something was en route to my father's address (note: nowhere on my application did I ever include my father's address, but this has happened before: where the Iranian government has gone above my head to make a point that my father is my keeper). We had the FedEx shipment diverted. So... yesterday, I got a thin envelope in the mail...

The symbol of America's individualism is... Persian.

He's Persian.

He's the same age as me.

He went to the UW and was in the same department my dad graduated from.

Must. Activate. Persian. Network. Stat. lol

Now You Know Why

I’m sorry for the long hiatus, dear readers. I have no excuse except to say that I was going through the oldest ill of humankind: heartbreak. But I think I’ve emerged from the tunnel now and am fully re-focused on getting to Iran. I saw my dad a few weeks ago and he said he had visited the Interests Section of the Islamic Republic in D.C. when he was on a work trip there, and he inquired about the status of my papers that have seemingly disappeared into the ether. He has also sent distant cousins to check the offices in Tehran. He seemed optimistic and said I should have my papers within a month. I am more doubtful than that.

In other news, I recently randomly decided to get a DNA test. I swabbed the inside of my cheeks and sent it off to the lab. Strangely enough, the results reveal that Iran shows up as #8 in the list of countries that match my DNA. What?! For as far as anyone can remember on both sides of my family, we've always been from Iran. That's the great thing about DNA, I guess: that you can go way far back, to before people can remember. 

So what what was the #1 country that my DNA matched? Get this: Kuwait. Well, it makes sense. Kuwait is just across the Persian Gulf. Either some Kuwaitis came to Iran and banged my ancestors, or my Iranian ancestors went to Kuwait and became sexually popular. It's still weird either way. Oh, and this is weird too: I share a significant amount of DNA with modern-day people in... Spain. Again, this makes sense because, as we know, people from the Middle East conquered Spain back in the 700s. Also, Columbus (who was a Spaniard) first landed in modern-day Puerto Rico when he "discovered" America. Which is why, yes... I also share DNA with Puerto Ricans. I've been told I look Puerto Rican and Spanish before. As bizarre as it is, now I know why.

Look At Those Thick-Ass Legs!

On this week's Shah's of Sunset...

MJ goes on a "blind" date, in which her great friend Sammy sets her up with an old ex. Way to go Sams! MJ's date, Navin, is really into her and wants to make it up. So he pins her to an armchair and professes his love.

He whispers sweet nothings.

And he reveals his sensitive side.

My girl MJ does what any self-respecting thick-assed leggy woman would do.

She picks up those gold spike-heels and RUNS.