January One-Liners

Nesticleez: using the little thing that shoots water out of the toilet in winter is, I believe, equivalent to sticking ice cubes in your anus.

After Roonies threatens to punch my "big fat face":
Eureka: you won't be able to get past my big fat belly to reach my big fat face.

Roonies: This stuff is good! It's like eating paper but a lot more fun. (Reference to Egyptian chocolate-filled wafers).

With Friends Like These...

Six of my friends and I have a little email group, where we keep each other mildly entertained during our tedious working days. Sort of like a breather in the middle of report-writing, a silent laugh during a long meeting – basically, a much needed change of pace in our daily monotony.

However, not everyone is as active as we'd like, so my friend Roonies and I have taken to becoming ring leaders of the laugh parade; we stage elaborate arguments to keep everyone entertained.

We are becoming increasingly stupid, to the point where it would be sacrilegious of me not to share our absurdity with you.
Sunday 27th January, 2008:

After the usual good mornings and what not, Roonies and I begin discussing our favourite subject, T.V. shows:

Eureka: I'm almost finished with Brothers and Sisters. I'm ready to cry at the thought of not having more episodes. Get on it, Roonies.

Roonies: Up your ass Eurekleez. Nesticleez and I don't like the fact that you only download when it suits you or when you feel like it!

Eureka: I don't download. Period. And I won't until you move your ass and buy me a new laptop to download with.

Roonies: Did dumbo magically appear on your laptop?
American gangster?
Grey's?
ONE TREE HILL?

Eureka: American gangster was taken from ak, I didn't download grey's, and Bloft secretly downloaded OTH for me. GET YOUR FACTS STRAIGHT YOU INCONGRUOUS FLOOZY.

FURTHERMORE, as we seem to be counting, please remember who did a huge chunk of the downloading for a good 18 months before my laptop decided to scream uncle. ME. UNGRATEFUL PIG.

Roonies: I WILL KILLL YOU!
Remember when you had downloaded grey's up until episode nine and were begging me to watch???? Bastard!

Eureka: REMEMBER WHEN THAT WAS BEFORE THE DEMISE OF MY LAPTOP YOU IDIOT? Roonies you need to get your dates and facts straight. Selective memory doesn't suit you.

Roonies: Eureka that was your post-demise laptop phase. Nesticleez will back me up.
It's okay. Me and nes are fine with downloading. Just say it. Say that you use us and abuse us for our internet connections.

Eureka: I do not use and abuse. I greatly appreciate you downloading. Although you'd both be doing it anyway so I don't see why you're making such a big deal out of it Roonies. I never bullied you when I was doing the lion's share. This is what I get huh? For shame Roonies.

Roonies: When did I EVER take things from you, asshole?
You managed to download 12 episodes of six feet under for me. Other than that you hooked Tootsie up. I did all the downloading for myself before. Now it's time for you to get YOUR shit straight.

Eureka: You both took shows from me. You just choose to remember the more recent events. And if you're SOO annoyed then fine, don't download anything. You're starting to show your true colours, and they're ugly.

Petty selfish loser.

Roonies: Erikleez, tell me, what did I EVER take from you. Prior to the show swapping that started this season, I took nothing. NOTHING. Don't confuse me with Tootsie, you bastard.

And just say it, just like you had slaves who drove you around. Now nes and I are your internet slaves. Admit to your almighty high horse. Just admit that you are scum.

Eureka: Roonies. TAKE A POLE AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS.

Roonies: You know I'm right.
Don't hate the playa, mothafucka. Hate the game. And you can't play it. get over it. admit it.

Eureka: What are we doing this evening?

Roonies: Nes has an eye appointment. So I don't think anything. Would you like to chill with me in helio, ms scumbag?

Aren't we a lovable bunch?

White Whine

Because WASPs need to document their grievances for posterity:

http://whitewhine.tumblr.com

In Need of Good Luck? Eat a Child's Heart

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7200101.stm

Now I am all for a Truth Commission. However, I also believe common sense should be a prerequisite for amnesty. So, should Milton Blahyi be forgiven for speaking up or does the fact that he led the assassination of 20,000 people supercede his confession?

Relegated to the Back of the Class

Once upon a time, Egypt was considered the gateway to the (Middle) East. We may not have been a world player, but we did maintain an important role as mediator. We were necessary. We were listened to. We mattered.

What happened to that Egypt? Why are we now merely an afterthought in the Middle East?

This piece by Mona Eltahawy discusses Egypt's diminished role in the Middle East peace process(es) and in global politics as a whole.

I hate to admit it, but Egypt's only claim to fame (the only/first Arab nation to embrace diplomacy) isn't even applicable anymore. It's sad, disappointing, and a huge blow.

Can't say we don't deserve it, though.

John Mayer Covering I Think She Knows Interlude

Good cover of the best part of that song

DROOOOOOLLLL

I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want I want.

'Nuff said.

Makes You All Warm and Fuzzy Inside

I spilt steaming hot chocolate on my keyboard today.

Rather than panic and scramble to clean it up before the keyboard started simultaneously smoking due to short-circuiting and melting due to the near-boiling liquid eating away at its innards, I decided to observe – much like a scientist conducting an immensely important experiment in a controlled environment.

Today’s experiment proved a long held suspicion of mine.

Hypothesis: hot chocolate is God. Or at the very least, it is a universal healer.

Result: the keyboard did not short-circuit. It did not melt (although I think even I would have, it was scorching). Instead, it sang. It opened its hidden plastic mouth and burst out in song, in a voice so harmonious even the Vienna Boys’ Choir would have felt just a teensy bit envious. To my privileged ears only, it let out a divine Hallelujah that could only have come from some supernatural being blessed with some awesome lungs and an awe-inspiring mezzo soprano. My keyboard should hit up American Idol. It would win and make me a gazillionaire.

Conclusion: Yes, hot chocolate is an out-of-this-world creation that could only have come from a superior being. It is a magical substance that can cure the world’s ills, discover new frontiers, write the perfect novel, and still make it home in time to feed the kids, clean the house from top to bottom, and give the spouse the best night of his or her life.

Because hot chocolate is the source of world peace. It even turns Chuck Norris into Santa Claus.

Ergo, hot chocolate is to be revered, worshipped, made idols of and danced around in frilly cream tutus. Then we must all sit by the fire wrapped in warm blankets as we sip this indescribably indecently yummy substance and sing kumbaya.

Amen.

Note to Self: Never Forget Eyeglasses Anywhere Ever Again

So, I left my eyeglasses at a friend's house the other day.

So what? I thought to myself. My eyesight is fine. I just use them to make reading screens and printed material more comfortable. It's not like I'm blind without them. I'll have no problem going through the day without them.

On second thought, I need them psychologically. They're like my proverbial thinking cap. Without them, something's just off and I can't concentrate. But it's much too late to turn back and drive a half hour (not counting traffic) just to pick them up.

Damn it, I need to dig out those fugly spares.

You know what I mean. Those butt ugly spares you keep hidden in the deepest darkest corner of your desk drawer praying to the Lord Almighty that you will never ever need to be seen anywhere near them in public. Yes, the spares your grandfather insisted on treating you to, only he had to pick them out at his 4000+ year old optician's. The one which still hand crafts those huge rickety wooden or wire metal frames large enough to be mistaken for Jackie O frames with the dark lenses knocked out.

Oh crappity crap crap. This is worse than chemical poo. I can't go to work in these! And they're not even whole! One of the nose pads is missing. Hurrrrruuummpphhh...

To top it all off, they're not even comfortable. I can't wear them for prolonged periods of time (i.e. those 6 or 7 hours I sit staring at chemical poo each day) because the section of the arms that curve around my ears hurt my stitches.

What cockamamie kind of typo is that? You ask, raising an eyebrow in gleeful contempt of my ineptitude. Who has stitches round the backs of their ears?

No, my dear friend, that wasn't a typo. Yes, I had my ears pinned back three and a half years ago. The stitches are still quite sensitive, so please don't box my ears, or punch the side of my head, or aim a tennis ball at the area, because that would hurt. Prior to that beautiful self-esteem saving procedure I was referred to as Dumbo because I could flap my ears and fly.

Although I am much happier with my ears remaining tucked away instead of sticking out through my hair, I must say I miss the free trips around the world. Now I have to pay for airplane tickets. What nerve those airlines have. Huuurrrruummppphhh...

Chemical Poo Feeds Me and You

Some of you may be wondering what's been keeping me busy enough to not whine about work lately. It's quite simple really. Easily encompassed in one word.

Manure.

Otherwise known as crap, shit, poo, caca, khara, and a multifarious assortment of other such synonyms.

You may think I'm merely describing what is keeping me busy. You are most certainly mistaken. I am not using the term as an adjective. I am using it as a noun.

Yes, I am quite literally up to my elbows in shit as I research the fertilizer industry.

Ask me why chemical fertilizers are so much more efficient than animal fertilizers (a.k.a manure). Go on, ask. Simply because chemicals contain a lot more nitrogen and other nutrients than normal manure.

Ask me what the main nutrients are. Nitrogen, Phosphorous and Potassium.

Ask me anything and I will answer.

I am a bona fide expert in chemical poo.

Quite fitting, too, seeing as chemical poo is so much more elitist than normal animal poo.

Elitist Eureka does not do animal poo. She sticks to her own.

Chemical poo is so much more refined than animal poo.

Look at me, poo saleswoman of the year.

Seriously, I should be hired to endorse chemical poo. I'd make the company a killing marketing chemical poo as the rich man's exclusive poo.

It's genius I tell you. GENIUS!

Imperial Dictionary Entries #14-20: The DFS Entries

As DFS is one of the most active and ubiquitous members of the FSE's - being the Ministress with the most responsibilities, this entry is a feeble attempt to elaborate on her incomprehensible self.

Entertainment (,εntә’teιnmәnt), n.: 1. one of DFS’s (see DFS) roles, in which she is required to provide the FSE’s (see FSE) with amusement, usually by providing a daily dose of jokes (see jokes).

Fence (fεns), n.: glorious building erected by them Israelis in an attempt to prevent those savage Palestinians from ruining the world. One can be either in front of it or behind it; in front being the better option, as it means one is not one of those savages.

Inspiration (.ιnspι’reι∫әn), n.: one of DFS’s (see DFS) and the GMSL’s (see GMSL) roles, where they pursue the stimulation or arousal of the Imperial minds, feelings, etc. of the Co-Empresses of Hendika (see Hendika), to special activity or creativity.

Jokes (dʒәυks), n.: humorous anecdotes provided by DFS (see DFS), the First Ministress of Entertainment and Inspiration (MoEI) of the Hendika (see Hendika) Empire.

Ministress (‘mιnιstrεs), n.: 1. a female head of a government department. 2. any female diplomatic agent accredited to a foreign government or head of state. [C13: via OF from L: servant; rel. to minus less]

Nidal (‘nιdæl), n.: handsome character in Empirical fantasyland in a mysterious relationship with MoEI DFS (see DFS) when stranded behind the fence (see fence); he seems to have grown a beard – tune in for upcoming episodes of this soap opera love story in coming emails from DFS to the FSE’s (see FSE) and Empresses.

Palestinians (,pælιstιnιәnz), n.: 1. those people scattered all around the earth in a sad attempt to ruin said earth. Receive blame for everything that might go wrong. Favourite phrase: "it's my/our fault". 2. DFS's people, of whom she is the most famous and high-ranking individual in the Empire.

In Honour of Eureka's Luck

We didn't really think Eureka's luck was going to leave her alone now, did we?

Eureka is remaining in Cairo (at least for the time being), so I'm sorry I won't be providing silly Frog stories.

On a brighter note, I promise to be better with the posts!

At Least He's A Good Sport

Birthday Trip

Eureka's parents who continue to spoil her even in adulthood have generously lavished her with a birthday trip to Paris. I leave tomorrow and will be back on 19th.

I know I haven't been too good with posting lately but I promise to provide stories from there.

If any of you are in or around Paris drop me a line and those stories will be about you!

Coming of Age and Still Dreaming

Yesterday, I hit the final milestone of youth. I turned 21. According to my mother, it's all downhill from here, because this is the last year one looks forward to. Post 21, you begin to dread your birthdays, to lie about your age, or choose to completely disregard it.

I'll probably change my mind once the aging process starts racing menacingly towards me, but for the time being (read: while I'm young, impressionable, and idealistic), I disagree.

Yesterday, I became an adult, and I am excited about the benefits this status reaps. I can sign a contract. I can open a proper bank account. I can vote (haven't decided for whom though, but I have time). I can move into my own place now (not that I'd want to. Why? Who'd want to pay their own bills?) I can drink (not that that's ever stopped me or anyone before) - that should really read I can go clubbing without a fake I.D. now, since the drinking part isn't a big deal to me. I am free(r).

Even the responsibilities aren't too daunting. Yes, I must file for taxes. But that's not a big deal seeing as my pitiful salary is in Egyptian Pounds and thus converts to mere peanuts in the U.S. Yes, I can't break the law and claim juvenile ignorance. But living in Egypt, I can a) Call Daddy, b) Call any corrupt official of my choosing, c) Call Daddy, d) pay the arresting officer off, or e) Call Daddy. And yes, I can't act irresponsibly any more. But that's not really true, is it? ;)

At first I didn't really want to turn 21. I didn't even want to turn 20. I walked around demanding to be referred to as "twenteen" for a good 7 months. But growing up doesn't seem so bad anymore. It's a whole new chapter; one I hope to fill with adventures, achievements, and joy.

Who knows? Maybe I'll travel the world and discover a way to make a difference in the world. In that case, keep reading, there are bound to be some wicked entries in our future.

Chocolate Covered Letters in Square Shapes

You'll have to excuse my recent absence. Blame it on the holiday season. Blame it on my health. Blame it on my boss actually giving me real work to do. Believe me, I was just as shocked as you must be. Blame it on writer's block.

Ok, fine. Just blame me if it makes you happy.

I have to admit I've been very naughty lately. I confess to eating LOTS and LOTS and LOTS of chocolate. In all forms. One must take advantage of a calm tummy spell. You'd think I'd eat lots of vitamin-enriched meals, like vegetables and fruit and dairy and whatever else my mother tries to stuff me with. But no, I've been rushing home every evening dreaming of the lovely piles of chocolate chip cookies, large slabs of dark and milk Swiss chocolate, and velvety hot chocolate waiting for me in hidden stashes in my room. Between Christmas, my grandfather's compulsive buying, and friends home for the holidays, I've been buried with chocolate. No wonder my stomach started protesting yesterday. But I don't care. It's worth the lecture my scales will give me. It's worth the inevitable inflation my kirsh (potbelly) will display. It is so worth it.

The other night I suddenly had the strong urge to play Scrabble. So I had Bloft and Space Cadet search high and low, until they find both the Scrabble and the Boggle sets hidden in storage in places I am too short to reach as I have been blessed with the worst set of genes from both parents, while the other two managed to snag all the good stuff. Like height. Scolding a fourteen-year-old boy who is taller sitting down than you are standing up is not effective in the slightest. And I'm not even unnaturally short. I'm about 5'6. I'm alright. They're the not-so-gentle giants. Damn their gene pool luck.

But I'm not bitter. Or jealous. I don't secretly curse their noimmunesystemshortwaistlesshairthinningjewishnose escape. My brother has a beautiful nose. Both are great athletes. However, neither holds the world record in number of days being a couch potato. Their only achievements have been in stupid conventional sports like being star football (soccer, whatever) players (Bloft), or champion golfers (Space Cadet). I'm the cool one.

But that's beside the point. Where was I? Scrabble. After whooping their asses even though they are very talented cheaters, we moved on to Boggle. Boggle made me realize two things.

1) Bloft is pretty damn observant.
2) I am not in the slightest.
3) Bloft has special magical powers. She can make up words and with a small flick of the wrist make them appear in the dictionary.

Ok, that's three things. I told you I'm not observant.

So Bloft has been very happily winning at Boggle. She's also very adept at finding naughty words like 'tit' and 'shit' and 'bedan' and 'beid' (variations of balls) and 'dick' and 'fuck' etc... in a perfectly harmless Boggle board. Such a dirty little mind for a sixteen-year-old. She needs a good spanking. Any takers?