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Busy, busy, busy.
I'd type more, but need to catch a flight in a couple of minutes. For the curious, I'm in Kuwait this week, heading to Guam tonight, then back home next week. It's been frantic, but there's been shawarma. Not as good as Saudi shawarma, but shawarma, nonetheless.
We're at the Crowne Plaza which, in Kuwait, is a five star hotel. They've been hosting swank weddings all week, which seem bigger and louder than any in the States - despite the lack of booze. Last night, I stood in the parking lot to watch the Bugatti's, Maseratti's, and Rolls's roll in. Quite the sight as I ate my Baskin Robbins.
They ain't all filthy rich here, but there's a lot more of it that the other sides of the planet.
Sure it's short, so here's some filler by Neil Peart. For this week, change the hours from nine and five to five and nine. Oh, and eliminate the reference to beer. This is the Middle East.
Working Man
I get up at seven, yeah
And I go to work at nine
I got no time for livin'
Yes, I'm workin' all the time
[Chorus:]
It seems to me
I could live my life
A lot better than I think I am
I guess that's why they call me
They call me the working man
They call me the working man
I guess that's what I am
I get home at five o'clock
And I take myself out a nice, cold beer
Always seem to be wonderin'
Why there's nothin' goin' down here
[Chorus]
Well, they call me the working man
I guess that's what I am
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