More of the same: complaints about things that haven’t even happened yet

Posted on January 15, 2007


There’s been some talk floating around about going to Ras Shitan (Devil’s Head- very Robert Louis Stevenson, no?) the last weekend of January. Readers of this blog will know that hippy-dippy get-back-to-nature places are decidedly not for me, especially not ones with Arab-style toilets! For those of you fortunate enough not to know what these entail, they are essentially porcelain holes in the ground with two resting places on either side for the feet. Some people actually prefer these they have them all over Kuwait right by the nice, regular, sitdown toilets. But how can one possibly sustain that crouch for the duration of a poo? And when people have worked out ways of defecating in comfort centuries ago! Those people must have thighs like football players, although admittedly other people spend far less time per crap than I do. God, or are people actually shitting from a standing height?! Aside from the revolting splashy grossness of this, what are they doing with their trousers?

Me: I can’t believe you want me to use Arab toilets!

NM: You probably won’t need to go during the weekend. (Isn’t it cute that he paid attention to my sparse pooping habits? Then again, people around the world, thanks to this blog, are in the know).

Me: True. I’ll still need to pee though!

NM: So can’t you pee standing up?

Me: Dude. I’m a girl.

NM: I know girls who can pee standing up. Your muscles are just weak.

Me: No you don’t! My muscles are not weak. If a girl tries to pee standing up it mostly runs down her leg.

NM: You have to aim it.

Me: We can’t aim it. You need a penis for that. I assume my lack of ownership of a penis is one of my most important attractions to you?

Other disadvantages of Ras Shitan: sleeping in a hut, all sandy and shit; crushing cold; nothing to do (although I have been assured there will be plenty of substances for abusing and damn if I‘m not bringing my own personal bottle of vodka); crushing cold; no swimming because of crushing cold. I wanted to bring a board game but his friends are not that kind of people. However, the place does have electricity and they cook for you. Luckily New Man agrees with me that it is not part of a vacation to do everything you have to do at home in an inhospitable environment. He even used the word “cuisine”, because that’s the kind of guy he is the sort that uses the word cuisine unprefaced by any ethnicity, in reference to an actual kitchen. I also warned him stringently that I was going to complain vociferously and prodigiously throughout; unromantically he responded that I shouldn’t go then if I was going to suffer so. So I have decided to bring along a notebook instead into which I will scribble furiously for the benefit of the blog.

He will also probably expect me to look attractive the whole time a day has yet to pass that he has not made some criticism of my appearance. He is unversed in the ways of women, in my opinion, but he says that they’re merely “comments” and that he tells me when I look good too. He does not appear to have heard of the adage “If you have nothing good to say, say nothing at all”. This, despite my informing him of it repeatedly. He hasn’t let me hear the last of the time I wore some beige cargo pants. I thought we, as a couple, were “there”, but we clearly weren’t (and won’t be). We weren’t going to the first night of the opera or anything. He actually said the side pockets made me look fat (see, unversed). Actually, M strongly disliked those pants as well but I know there are guys out there who think that a comfortable girl is thus attractive! I just haven’t dated them.

Well, tough tittie. I will be wearing cargo pants AND sweats AND hoodies AND fluffy jackets AND woolly things that sayOsgoode Hall Law on them. And glasses (although he likes those). If I go. My friends are doing things that are cultural and warm!

New Man also informed me that he is thinking of hiking up Mt. Sinai next weekend – Jesus, Mary and Joseph! You know what’s up there right now? Snow. Motherfucking snow. I can only take it personally. And for what? The bleeding sunrise? The spot where the Ten Commandments were allegedly carved from? The alleged Burning Bush? They can lick me. I nearly died climbing that thing in early October. He says he doesn’t mind the cold and that he’s fit. The place is a lawsuit waiting to happen, for sure aged women hobbling up 1000 year old steps with not a fence to be seen. Even the camel they were forced to hire for me was sick of my complaining when I did it – my friends conferred on throwing me off the precipice. Luckily he showed enough sense not to even invite me to come along for that.