Sunday Chronicle

Posted on July 30, 2006


Yesterday I went for a day-use at Novotel with K. I like Novotel because for 65 L.E. you can order food and drinks as well as spend the day by the pool. In addition we saw Egyptian singer Rouby there (see pic). She has lost so much weight that she resembled an overtanned newt. I mean, it’s very difficult for an Egyptian girl to have small breasts, but she managed. K reports that he was sitting by the pool when she bumped into him and said, “Soo surry.”
“No broblim,” he replied. As she walked away a guy in the pool yelled at him, “Ya bakhtak ya 3am!” I didn’t see this myself, but this is the story he recounted, complete with many dramatizations and accents (he fancies himself quite a voice artist and has been known to do Arabic dubbing for animated movies). In fact, I have yet to hear his normal speaking voice and accent. It’s fantastically entertaining.

My body has begun to suffuse me with chemicals pertaining to the desire to procreate. I hate kids; I am terrified of actually bringing one up; and the process sounds monstrous. Yet, my body has definitely informed my brain that it wants to grow one. Being a woman is fucked up like that. Your brain entertains thoughts, sometimes for years at a time, and then one day your body decides it will simply not put up with any more of your brain’s tyranny and starts to make you behave in extraordinary ways. I confided to M that I kind of wanted to have a baby (his, because I am not giving birth to no ugly babies) squeeze it a bit, and then dump it.
“That’s terrible, S!” Terrible is, as you know, the worst thing M is able to say. The use of my name only occurs on such occasions also.
“Not in a bin…like give it up for adoption.”
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I bet there would be a lot of demand for Arab-Jewish babies. We could market them as ‘peace babies’.
“Hmm, I guess I could have several. It could be quite profitable.”
“You could have one every year! But wait, I’m not living with a woman who’s pregnant nine months out of every year.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty weird already. Maybe just one then.”

In other news, I got a job in my field, and start Tuesday. That’s all I’ll say about it though for fear of being dooced. It’s a shame, because it is inundated with bloggability. It’s in Garden City, and I have already shouted at all the embassy guards in the area to the effect that they can’t sexually harass me if I’m going to go by every day. They did not seem impressed.