Bad moslem

So i definately need a smack on the fingers for being such a bad muslim. Not only did i whore around by sitting in a taxi without a veil, i also went to a cafè where i ate, drank and smoked. Then i went home and had some dirty thoughts and ate chocholate. It had to be said though that whatever virtue-vow the neighbouring men might have made this morning was out the window as soon as i showed my delicate, longsleeved, hooded self tumbeling confused around the street looking for a cab in my oversized glasses and tunika-covered cordtrousers. And they have much more training in this than i do.

Besides, i did really bad on my test today, and something's bleeped up with the Karma-police, cause appearently so did Raeanne, who'se been studying all weekend making flashcards for all the vocab. It could be that the devil on my shoulders got too much of a say when he made me make a hot breakfast which aroma probably reached two hungry buildings away though.

I'm concidering making a naked revolution and take the oportunity to do some tanning on the veranda now that men are actually required to behave themselves. Then again, women are required to help them out more than usual it seems, and i don't think they'll approve of my unorthodox methods, aka figure four. It would be nice to get rid of these t-shirt lines though, i am starting to remind myself of Waldo. Maybe i'll try out a singlet now that most people try to sleep during the days to avoid fasting as much. If i only stay on the veranda, and try to keep low. Baby steps.

Songs i'll try to avoid singing anymore:

Heivenu shalom aleikhem, and Stranger killing an arab (that last one will be tough though)

-kwakkwak