Minor Complaints...

Ok, for those of you know me well (and probably those of you who don’t know me all that well), you know I like to complain. I don’t know why, but I whine about anything and everything. It’s like drugs: the more I do it, the more I want, and the more concerned other people become.
With that said, there’re a few things I need to complain about, so bear with me.
1) I’m horribly, incredibly sick. The inside of my stomach feels like it is on fire. If you need me to go into more detail, send me a personal email and I’ll elaborate.
2) Besides the oddly large population of skinny, stray cats (honestly, it’s just bizarre. I almost wonder if there’s some strange conspiracy at work here, like a new American method on the War on Terror: “let’s just cuddle ‘em to submission…”), everywhere you look, someone is washing their car. Now let’s think about this for a moment. Jordan is one of the four most water poor nations in the entire world. How do they use the precious commodity? By washing their frickin’ cars. Never mind the fact they’re in the middle of THE DESERT! Never mind the fact there is so much sand and grime in the air that when I get home, I feel like I can scrape it all off my skin with a spoon. Never mind the fact most of the cars are taxis and besides the fact they’re not exactly Ferraris, not too many people are going to wave a cab on when they need a ride because the car is too dirty. I want to take the buckets of water they use to endlessly scrub down their “rides” and throw it in their face in the hopes they’ll wake up. Not to mention, some of the younger men will have a sort of car washing party where five or six of them will get together and wash down their taxis, all the while standing back to admire their identical taxis.
3) This one just drives me crazy. No one says hi to one another on the street. I’ve tried several times to casually say good morning to someone (yes, I had shorts on), and they look at me like I just insulted their mother. I very mistakenly waved at a couple of people on the road, and their thoughts were so palpable, they’re worth mentioning. The first person looked at me as if saying, “No, I’m not taxi, Asshole.” The other person looked me and then thought to himself, “All praise be to Allah, that American just cast a spell on me.” So it’s a dilemma because I always feel guilty if I walk past someone and don’t acknowledge him or her. I suppose I’ll just have to continue casting spells on people…
4) This one isn’t so much a complaint as a, “Oh dear Lord, you are so dumb” story. In Jordan, when you walk down the road, if a cab drives past you without a person already on the meter, he’ll honk at you. It’s a way of communicating. One honk means he wants to know if you need a ride. Two honks mean don’t dare step on the road because I’ll run your ass over. Now with this in mind, I was talking to this girl who was also upset about what she was supposed to be wearing, and she ended her complaint by saying, “I mean, no matter what I wear, the cabs still honk at me when they drive by.” What do you say to this? Do you ignore it? Do you agree with her? Do you politely tell her how dumb she is and explain that the cabs honk at anyone and everyone, and yes, it does not matter what the person is wearing?
I would have added the fact no one wear’s shorts, but if you don’t know how I feel about that by now, I would have a fifth thing to complain about.