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?