Posted on February 5, 2007


The Red Onion was graced with our presence again last night, this time to celebrate the She2ee2’s She2ee2’s (or the Conquistador’s) promotion. I was sitting next to Beautiful Saint (terrible, terrible nickname – come up with a better one, I beg of ya’ll) and was attempting to convince him that he was a Pakistani stereotype.

BS: Dude – how can I be a Pakistani stereotype? I’m half Egyptian!

Me: That doesn’t matter. You’re an accountant!

BS: Actually, I’m not. I’m a financial analyst (or maybe he said consultant). There’s a big difference.

Me: (waves airily) Same thing. Just as stereotypical.

BS: No way. I’d have to be a computer scientist.

(Come to think of it, the only other remotely brown guy I know in Egypt is a computer scientist.)

Me: Still. Besides, you have floppy mid-parted black hair!

(I think I thumped the table for emphasis here.)

PS: Yes…that. I’ve tried to make it stop, but no matter what I do it still does that.

Me: Even if you cut it short?

PS: Yes. You can ask Dragon Slayer the Steadfast (nickname too good for anyone, I know, but accurate translation). Now called: The Source.

It was at this point that others interceded to ask why I was picking on him and generally being annoying under the influence of only half a drink. I had spent some time already trying to set him up with a friend of mine through the repeated use of the phrase, “well, I think you guys are of a comparable level of hotness,” which apparently is not sufficient for His Highness (or any of the other royalty seated round the table).

And so the drinking went on, culminating in my texting my officemate, who drives me to work, that I had diarrhoea and wouldn’t be able to come to work. She called me this morning to ask how my diarrhoea was getting on. It transpired that she herself also stayed home because she, in fact, had diarrhoea. We had both eaten a dodgy pizza earlier – but while diarrhoea in me brings me up to regular people’s bowel schedules, she was on the shitter all day. I went just the once. So now our double absence has made our excuses extra suspicious – but we did both eat the pizza, and were both affected! It’s a mere technicality that my system is hardier than hers. And that my original excuse was hungoverness.