Somebody forgot to tell me it's hate on Muzzie week. Sad!! Let me just start by saying that I FUCKING HATE IGNORANT PEOPLE!!!

Ahhh, that's better.

Let's start with yesterday, shall we? I'm at work (Laura Mercier cosmetic counter at Macy's). Customer that I worked with last week comes in and I'm helping her yadda yadda. Now just to clarify when she had come previously I was wearing my scarf in what would be perceived as a more "traditional" Muslim way of doing it, yesterday I had it in the back in a wrap. So this heifer is making a motion as if covering the bottom half of her face and is like "Where's that girl who wears that thing?" And I'm like "There is no girl working here who covers her face." "No but, you know what I mean," Says Heifer Lady. "She kinda looked like you, wait are you Sara? That was you last week right? But today you look so, DIFFERENT. You're not dressed very Muslim today." To which I reply, "How exactly is it, you think a Muslim looks?" Met with stammers and ummmm well you knows. Ugh. Wow. Stupidity at it's finest ladies and gents. I don't look very Muslim. Well thanks for letting me know, I'll be sure to dust off my certified Muslim badge, wouldn't want to confuse people, or make them feel uncomfortable. Oops, too late :)

Fuck Al Qaeda. Fuck Al Qaeda, George, Dick, Fox News and all those other terrorist motherfuckers who have done this. I refuse to apologize for my faith. I refuse to hide. I refuse to back down. No. I'm tired of this pseudo police state nonsense and unlike the other Muslim Uncle Tom's, I am not afraid. You want to protect the American people then do it, but do it right.

Walking through security today on my way to Houston. "Ma'am you've been randomly selected for a security screening." "Of course I have, that's just the way it always goes doesn't it?" I'm ushered into the center divider surrounded by glass and a rope. Glass ceilings for Blacks, glass walls for Muslims. Do you, the American people, feel safe now? Feel more protected to see me behind it? I'm taken to the side and the SS, oops I mean TSA agent pulls everything out of my bags, she swabs my shoes, clothes, laptop and the inside of my bags then runs it through the machine. No TNT here, no sirree bob. "Spread your legs, arms out palms up," she says. I comply. God bless America. I'm looking at the shadow the Los Angeles sun is casting on the wall in front of me, my silhouette. My face burns with humiliation and rage. Her wand starts beeping when it gets to my chest and back, you would think that they would keep in mind that most women wear bras, and most of those women have metal underwire in those bras. "Ma'am I'm gonna have to pat you down in some highly sensitive areas." Let the gropefest begin. In full view of everyone who was witness she felt my breasts through my shirt, my back, between my thighs. How's that for some girl on girl action? I'm told that I'm clear, I am not a threat to other passengers. I put my shoes on, stuff everything back in my bags and continue onto my gate, only to be told that I am 5 minutes late and the plane has left.

I wait around, eat some Cinnabon and finally board the 8 a.m. to Houston. Too bad for all you suckers who were secretly hoping I wouldn't end up on your flight. I'm met with the usual sideways glances, staring and glaring that welcome me when I board planes. I return the favor, lovely to see you all as well. Sleeeeeeepp.

Houston is lame, Houstonians even lamer. I'm there for some testing for my new job with Continental Airlines, now if that isn't ironic I don't know what is. I get fingerprinted and am on my way to the clinic to perform an array of tests. Once inside the clinic, which is only for employees, all eyes are on me. When I say that I am not exaggerating, as I walked through the back of the clinic to start testing, the room fell silent and two sets of eyes were burning through me from all angles. I start with the vision test, all good. We get to the hearing test and the girl asks me to sit in this little box about four feet high and wide. Only one problem, I'm claustrophobic as a motha. I'm told there's no two ways about it. I muster up my courage and with tears in my eyes tell them to go ahead and shut the door I'm ready to begin testing. Lame, I know. Now, onto the piss test. One of the other clinicians tells the girl who is working with me that I have to take off my scarf to make sure I'm not hiding any pee under it. What. The. Fuck. Seriously. The girl who was working with me, Jen, will forever have a place in my heart after what happened next. Jen: "Excuuuuuuse me? She doesn't have to take anything off. What the hell you seriously think she's hiding urine under her headdress? I asked her if she has anything under it, she said no, I trust what she's saying if you don't like it go ahead and report me and I'll take the flack." <3<3<3 When we move onto the weight training room it went something like this- "Can you believe that shit? People are so ignorant. So what's the deal, is that for religious purposes? You don't have to answer if you don't want to." Me: "Yes, I'm Muslim." Her: "Now is that because you married a Muslim guy?" Me: "No, I was born Muslim my parents converted." Her: "Well that's fantastic, I think that's just great." We get into a long discussion between sets about religion, race and just about everything else. She leaves the room. When she comes back she says, "You know, they're all talking about you out there. They were trying to figure you out and they asked me what the deal was. I told them I asked you and you're Muslim. I hope you don't mind me asking you all of these questions." Me: No worries, I'd rather an honest question than an ignorant assumption." We're joined by her supervisor. Supervisor: "So what's the headcovering about?" Jen: "She's Muslim. We're having a great little chat about it." Supervisor: "So I can't see your hair, not ever?" Me: "No." Supervisor: "Do you ever wear see through scarves?" Me: "That would kinda defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?" Supervisor: "Haha, yeah" We talked about a lot of other shit, most of which I don't remember. Moral of the story: There are a lot of really, really, really shitty people out there. But, there are also good people, truly good people, though they are few and far between. When I meet people like I met today, I stop becoming a robot, my defenses are let down and I become human again.