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I dreamed of burquas, martial law, and a complete lack of freedom all night. I'm reading "A Thousand Splendid Suns", which is set in Afghanistan (in a time period spanning the last 30 years), and is told from the point of view of several different women. The Taliban hasn't been introduced in the book yet, but the things these women must experience and endure is bad enough without them. One character, Laila, loses her best friend to a mortar round, learns the love of her life (who had fled to Pakistan with his parents) was killed by a rocket that struck the vehicle they were riding in, has her entire family wiped out by a bomb that hits her house, and now must marry (at 14) a man who is in his 60s. I want to brush it off as just another story dreamed up by an author with a wild imagination and very little concern for the level of suffering he forces his characters to endure - except that women really are living this life every day in that part of the world. The thought is staggering.
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Three-day workweek. The fact of it hasn't set in yet. Four whole days off, filled with family, friends, food, sex, booze, sleep, relaxation - I love the holidays.
Fa rah rah rah rah, rah rah rah rah!!!
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There are a lot of terrible things that happen every day to good people. It reminds me to be thankful for all I have - even when things are bad in my life, they are still pretty damned good compared to what could be.
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One of our drivers smells like a French whore. A little easier on the cologne there, buddy.
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Please don't make me cry.