Ouch

So I really hope bad luck only comes in threes because I don't know if I'm up to dealing with any more of it.

Yesterday morning: zipper snaps in half as I put on a skirt. I quite liked that skirt. Cost me an arm and three toes, too.

Last night: drop my iPod. It refuses to function past a whirring and clicking sound of the harddrive skipping and won't even restore factory settings. I know because I was up until 2 am hitting the reset button and begging iTunes to fix my baby. This obviously means I've lost EVERYTHING on it since I now need to take it to the distributor to have them fix it.

Today: Snap my foot/ankle again about 15 minutes ago. In pain, unable to walk, and dreading the next 3 hours of traffic and several flights of steps I'll have to endure to get my iPod and skirt fixed.

Not at all amused.

If You Can't Say Something Nice...

Don't say nothing at all. Thumper was spot on.

Shame so many Egyptians haven't learnt that lesson, because this is just an embarrassment to us all. Reinforces every misconception about us that exists, and then some.

For the link to the original video, click here.

Apparently I'm A Stay-At-Home Complaining Londoner

Or: Eurekaisms is just self-absorbed mumbo-jumbo.

That sounds a lot more accurate.

Baby Kangaroo just blogged about making word pictures out of blogs using www.wordle.net.

This is what Eurekaisms resulted in.


You can click to enlarge if you can't see the smaller print.

Chapeau BK!

Summertime Snooze

Once again, apologies for the lack of attention.

On second thought, no. No apologies. It is the summer. Everything slows down during the summer. And in Cairo's eyeball melting heat, I should be given blogger immunity. I can't be expected to have the energy to come up with fabulously exciting stories for you while cooling my forehead with a semi-cold Coke can that's dripping all over my already hot, sweaty and wet face, causing rivulets to tickle my itchy neck and soak my t-shirt.

It's August. In Egypt. Therefore, the above description is an understatement, to say the least.

Plus, I'm lazy. This leads to a complete lack of creativity juice in these tired brain veins.

I was complaining to Doolittle earlier today that although I do have ideas for proper pieces to write, I have zero discipline and focus to get me to sit down and physically bang them out. I've been rewriting the same lousy paragraph for two months now. Probably longer. And it isn't even particularly good, let along worthy of such attention. Now that I think about it, it even feels like a half-assed We Were the Mulvaneys knock-off.

I'm feeling extra demotivated with regard to writing because of the book I'm currently reading. The level of creativity some people enjoy is just mind-boggling. How do people come up with this stuff? My only contribution to fiction has been endless recycling of the same plot points, tone, style and characters in slightly different situations and sexes. Same depressive shit, different fillers. Even I'm bored of my penchant for morbidity.

I know I promised fun London stories, but I'm going to have to renege. I basically shopped, ate glorious junk and hung out with my family the entire time. The one time I bothered to try and see a friend was a disaster.

Babar was in London for the weekend the second week of my trip. We agreed to meet the Saturday morning for a meal. No problems there, right?

Wrong. Little did I know that this would be the ruin of the remainder of my trip.

Ask why. Go on.

Because the Eureka gods decided to leave their Cairo perches and pay me a visit in London that morning. Of course, this inevitably equates catastrophe.

As I ran to catch the bus, I slammed my right foot on the pavement. By some miracle, the gods decided to go easy on me by avoiding the final indignity of a sprawled lips-to-ground landing. Instead, I remained on my feet but hopping around - a scene straight out of Looney Tunes. The old lady I almost knocked over in the process did not find this amusing.

Never did end up seeing Babar due to the immediate and significant swelling of my foot. Still a little swollen and sore at the moment but I'm walking now.

Can't say the same about the last two weeks. but hey, at least I caught up on Eastenders.

Only Eureka, right?

Checking In

Hello beautiful munchkins,

Popped into the Apple store today to drop you all a line and prove that I have not joined an alien-worshipping, space-travelling cult and forgotten you. Unfortunately, there is almost no trace of that ingenious creation they used to call internet cafe's in London. It's like they really think everyone has automatic access to the internet anywhere and everywhere they go. Idiots, don't they realise that I don't have magical broadband capabilities in my fingers? Thankfully, Apple are smart enough to know that if they let you use their laptops for random web surfing long enough, you'll eventually buy one of their lovely machines. Thank you Apple. 

Haven't got very much to report. Shopping is a right sham this year. Everything's a zillion times more expensive, and what's on sale is uglier than Space Cadet's hairy bottom. So sad. 

Going to see Babar tomorrow, who's in town for the weekend for some meeting. I expect he'll bully me for a bit and complain about this GLORIOUSLY ENGLISH SUMMER. I love the rain. Don't understand how people could hate it so much. It's a free shower, folks! Then again, a lot of people don't like to shower, so I guess that explains it. 

I'm saving all my little Eureka moments (i.e.: STOOPID) for when I'm back and bored at the office. Apparently, it's going to be an extremely slow August, so I'll need to give myself things to do. Lots of posts for you then! 

With that tantalising promise for more, I bid you adieu to return to my aimless roaming of London's luscious streets.  

Tying Up Some Loose Ends

Seeing as I am in a wholly uncreative and/or funny mood (creativity and humour do not necessarily coincide, hence the /), I shall take this opportunity to keep you informed rather than entertained.

1. Today, June 30th, is Space Cadet's 15th birthday. Never mind the fact that he looks 19. He is 15 as of 35 minutes ago. Space Cadet's first words to Mummy when she called to wish him a happy birthday (she is currently out shisha-ing with the father - told you I'd be informative tonight) were "What did you buy me?" This would seem to be a completely normal question coming from a 15-year-old on his birthday. However, my vaccuumforbrains brother was physically present at the purchasing of his present as he picked it out himself (how'd you like all that alliteration). And no, he was not joking. How I wish he were.

2. Bloft's MacBook (black) arrived from NYC yesterday afternoon. I haven't seen her since. Thankfully, there isn't the tell-tale stench of rotting flesh wafting from her room, so I believe it is safe to assume she is alive. She won't be much longer, though. The parents are plotting her slow and excruciating demise due to a terrible report card this year. Pray for her. The parents are vicious. And their executions are akin to medieval public hangings. Scratch that, medieval public hangings are akin to my parents' executionary skills. They taught ye olde people everything.

3. I don't mean to jinx myself, but it seems like Mr. Boss Man just might be lightening up the workload this week. Cross your fingers!

4. Bloft, the mother, and I leave to London on July 5th (the males will join us a week later). That's 5 days and counting. I cannot wait; I've been dying for a break for what feels like 29 centuries and a millennium. We shall be gone for about a month. During this month, I do not think I will be able to post much, if at all. This is due to my almost utter shunning of all things internet while in London. It is my annual internet detox. No email, no blogs, no MSN, nothing. Nada. Zilch. Maybe email one time. Twice at most. Unless I happen to visit the Apple store. Checking mail at the Apple store doesn't count. This is because internet at the Apple store is free. We like free.

5. If by some magical random crossing of url connection this blog has any readership based in London (or will happen to be visiting London while I'm there) please feel free to drop me a line and we'll grab a drink at the Common Room, which happens to be an ideal place because a) it's chilled and relaxing and cool, b) it's near my abode so I won't get lost, and c) it's somewhere you definitely won't have been so I'll feel all cool and Londony showing you something new!

I think that covers my housekeeping for the time being. Hopefully I'll manage another post (a proper one) before I skedaddle off across the European continent. If I don't, fret not. I love you anyway.

On A Related Note

I almost forgot to mention this:

Yesterday, I left the office 10 minutes early for 2 reasons.

1) I was silently protesting the fact that Mr. Boss Man only every remembered to call me with work a second before I walked out of the office;
2) I was totally avoiding being in the office to receive said daily call because I needed to go home;
3) I hadn't been home at a decent hour in forever and missed seeing my room in the daylight;
4) I still resented the fact that I had to work all weekend. Yes, I hold a grudge when I can't even claim overtime.

Fine, that was 2 squared. Same difference. I never said I could count. I have Excel and calculators for that.

As accurate as a fine-tuned Patek, he called my mobile phone at 4:56, meaning he'd called my desk and not found me.

Now, check me out in all my suck it glory. I ignored his call.

Wait, wait. It gets better! I never called back! I know! I'm such a rebel!

Eureka wags her tail in giddy self-congratulations.

This morning, I called when I arrived at 10:08. He wasn't in yet so I had time to drink my home brewed coffee. Some of which had already scalded my left butt cheek. The very cheek I mentioned in the previous post because I happen to favour it. The universe is a twisted place, I know. In my morning grumpy stupor, I forgot to snap the travel mug closed, so when I lay it on the seat next to me, it leaked.

Thank my lucky stars my skirt was black today. Because walking around with a brown stain on my bottom all day would definitely lead to too many questions and a pay cut. If they were feeling generous.

So, yeah. He calls me back a little while later. After business was taken care of he asked why I'd disappeared the other afternoon.

I am such a badass. I lied my way out of it by saying there was an emergency at home and in my hurry I left my phone on my desk. Half convincing, too!

I should be a professional excuse maker-upper. I'd so make a killing.