Category Archives: Two minute read

May 16 2012
24 Comments
Humorous, Two minute read

Today I Wear Underpants

This photo is only half staged.

Warning: much exaggerated complaining followed by lighthearted ending. Use this information well.

It’s the last week of school and I am a disheveled shadow of a human. My aspirations of being fluent in Arabic have turned into the desire to live through the final day of my program, which is today.  Monday was not good. I woke up eight minutes before class feeling like death incarnate and rushed out of the house pen-less and still wearing my bed hair.

I had ten minutes to prepare for a presentation that was 20% of my grade. Luckily for me, I decided earlier this semester  that I don’t believe in grades. I ate 14 raw almonds for breakfast during class and afterwards wolfed down a falafel sandwich before taking a four hour nap, waking up just in time to skype with mother who silently judged me for my apparent sloth.

I felt defeated as usual here in Cairo, and I’ve come to realize that this city has utterly wiped me out and used me like a plaything.

My program ends today and I return to the states in a mere 2 weeks. I should be happy, but ahead of me looms a formidable job hunt in one of the most expensive cities in the world. This life-consuming job hunt must take place in the same month that I plan and attend a bachelorette party, a bridal shower, an afterglow brunch (ew), a  boyfriend’s visit, and a family vacation in which I’ll be forced to leave my mountain grove and actually socialize.

I’m looking from a place of exhaustion forward to months of exhaustion with no apparent end.  I’m staring from a position of defeat towards a future me curled on the ground with HR representatives kicking me in the stomach while chewing up my resume and spitting it at me. Things look grim.

In times like this, I can only do one thing. I take out my planner and write down the secret that will give me the strength to go on and conquer my fears and climb the mountains and brush the hair. At the very top of my to-do list I write “wear underwear.”

Can two words change a life? Yes.

After donning my underthings, I cross off the first task on my to-do list and breathe deeply while I look at the twenty things I have left, my rear end carefully caressed by a familiar pair of unmentionables. Yes, today is my day. I’m beginning the rest of my life and I’m wearing underpants.

You, world, may be tough and you may have well dressed people who don’t want to hire me and you may have chatty cousins that distract me from the book I want to read but I, dear world, am wearing underpants and anything is possible.

Who wears the underpants? I DO! Who’s not afraid? I’M NOT! Who’s going to stop crying and leave her mother’s closet today? ME!

WHAT TIME IS IT? UNDERPANTS TIME! WHO ARE WE? UNDERPANTERS! WHAT DO WE DO? WIN!

P.S. Things really aren’t that bad. I’m going on vacation to Ethiopia today. Yay!

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May 11 2012
33 Comments
Egypt, Humorous, Two minute read

I Hope My Family Likes Their Piles of Dirt

This one’s for Dad.

My year in Cairo is winding down, coming to a close, kicking the bucket, hiding in the dumpster, etc. Throughout the past year, I was careful to avoid purchasing any gifts for my family, keeping my tradition of delaying present buying  until “later,” which usually translates into “3 hours before my flight when I can only spend $2 on each gift and end up buying everyone decorative paper weights and nun figurines.”

But this time it’s going to be different, especially because the last time I went home, in December, I got desperate and gave my family Digestives and Hobnobs for Christmas. I might as well have put five packages of Chips Ahoy! under the tree. This semester I vowed to do better.

I began my gift hunting early, seeking something that would embody my Cairo experience in a way that my family would both appreciate and enjoy. After looking through all of the boutiques in Zamalek and perusing the stalls of Khan al-Khalili, I realized that these stores sold  worthless knickknacks that lacked the essence of Cairo and were inauthentic pieces of pre-trash.

That’s when I stumbled on the idea of getting each member of my family their very own piles of Cairo dirt, a fun substance that we eat, breathe, and live every moment of our Cairo existence. My family could use the piles as office, home, and lawn decoration and the dirt can also be used as weed killer, teenager-repellent, and an acceptable replacement for some spices.

I wandered through the city, looking for piles of dirt that I felt represented my family. I found one with some horse poop in it and thought of my mom because her sister loves horses, and right near there I found one with an animal bone in it and thought instantly of my brother. Just days ago, I was walking to the supermarket and saw one that had a syringe stuck in it and knew I’d found the perfect pile for my sisters (they love sharing things.) And then finally, I found one with a Twinkie wrapper sticking out of it, and it was as if Dad spoke to me and said, “This pile of dirt is for me, Emily.”

I filled up a jar for each family member so they can place their mini-pile anywhere they want (in the bathroom! the kitchen! the shower!) and think of me and Cairo every time they look at it. The idea might be a little cheesy, but I’m a sentimental gal and I do sentimental things.  I can’t wait to see the look on their faces–they’re going to be so surprised!

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May 09 2012
27 Comments
Humorous, Two minute read, Wedding

Finally, a Bachelorette Party that Celebrates Pain, Confusion, and Fear

Not having fun is not an option.

My sister is getting married at the end of June, and I have the pleasure of being a maid of honor/supreme co-ruler of the bridesmaids. One of the best maid’s duties is throwing the bachelorette party. Based on movies, books, television shows, and personal experiences, these parties tend to be visual manifestations of my personal hell.

I imagine girls getting together in dresses and high heels, sipping colorful drinks and letting loose like a bunch of fillies. Shoes! Giggles! Skirts! Tickles! Lingerie! Eeeek! Heeheehee! AHHHHH DEAR GOD NO!

It all sounds pretty awful, which is why I’m planning a party that’s going to rebel against all social norms and delve into the darkest parts of our souls. The party will be constructed around the keywords pain, confusion, and fear, and these concepts will inform every aspect of the celebration.

Instead of flirty summer dresses, our fabulous girlfriends will be advised to wear something utilitarian, breathable, and sturdy, as we will be performing complex physical tasks such as digging and crawling.

After getting together and performing vigorous calisthenics before eating a refuel meal of unseasoned cottage cheese oatmeal and tap water, we will start playing games. This is usually where bachelorette parties go even further astray. The gathering collapses into a mess of giggles as the women reminisce over the bride-to-be’s romantic past with her current squeeze and try to embarrass her about the fact she wears underwear. My theory is that no one cares.

I’ve replaced the boring games with something called Bride-Chase, which is a cross between capture the flag, hide-and-go-seek, and war itself. The game begins when the bride realizes her engagement ring has been taken.

Before panic sets in, she will be told that we know where her ring is but that she will have to get past every single feisty lass at the party in order to retrieve it. Her breast friends have become her bosom enemies. We are given ten minutes to hide before she sets out for the ring. As she struggles through the Bride-Chase zone, we will pelt her from our hiding spots with Super Soakers and sequined thongs. If she is ever hit on the face, she has to go back to the beginning, and we will certainly aim for the face.

The overall purpose of the game is to teach the bride-to-be that friendships are fickle and that one day she may find that everything she believes to be true is a lie. This is the lesson of Bride-Chase.

She has 24 hours to get her ring back or it will be sold to cover the cost of the oatmeal, cottage cheese, Super Soakers, and thongs.

No party favors or prizes will be given out. Instead, anyone who proves themselves weak will be forced to do burpees and suicides until they vomit, which probably won’t take very long.

I just hope my sister will be able to understand that this party is an incredible, unique, and priceless gift that she will never forget. It is also the only one I will be able to give her due to financial constraints.

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May 07 2012
25 Comments
Humorous, Modern Life, Two minute read

Dating Tactics We Learned from Animals: The Spider

Two spiders are hanging in the corner of my ceiling right now. Yesterday, Tim was the only one. I have named the new spider Laptop, after my sister.

Tim and Laptop rarely move, yet the cobwebs never stop growing. Until I wake up one day and realize I’m dangling from the ceiling and that an army of spiders is about to turn my insides into goo and digest them, I will leave them to their spider ways and think about how their lifestyle is related to human dating.

Spiders are repulsively patient. To my knowledge, Tim only moved once in the past two months. A tiny bug had flown into his carefully yet poorly located trap and Tim was eagerly cocooning it in thread, rubbing his limbs together greedily and saying “oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy!” Except for that five minute movement-bender, he usually sits in the corner and does nothing except for think spider thoughts, which are too vile to record here.

Though I can’t say it’s a boring and meaningless life, I will say it’s not the life that I’ve chosen for myself. There are some, however, who follow the spider’s way when attempting to snare a potential mate, friend with benefits (e.g. baked goods), or mother.

The spider-mimicking-human, or SMH for short, expends only a minimal amount of effort when attempting to trap prey. Just like a real spider, the SMH is often truly interested in the prey, but he or she is simply unwilling to leave their wifi-outfitted cobweb corner. Instead, the SMH prefers to wait until the prey comes of its own accord.

For this reason, the spider method only works if the prey has sufficient reason, motivation, or desire to visit the SMH’s web more than once, sometimes as a result of mutual friends, free food, or cuddly pets. After the prey has visited a few times, and the SMH has “a special feeling,” it’s time to pounce. Without warning, the SMH completely wraps him in SMH silk, making his escape impossible.

The SMH then drags the prey to her room, where she will make him listen to songs that she likes on YouTube and discuss past relationships before she injects him with venom that turns his insides into goo and devours them noisily without using a utensil.

The spider method of dating is not pretty and usually ends in disappointment for both sides. On the one hand, the prey is eaten, and on the other, the SMH has a hollow corpse that must be eliminated. For these reasons, the spider method is not a recommended way to date someone.

It’s better to get their number and then do things together. Virtual relationships through gchat are also acceptable alternatives.

Join us next time on Dating Tactics We Learned from Animals for our discussion of cardinals and blue jays!

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May 04 2012
39 Comments
Two minute read

Can Naps Be Meaningful?

I’m having a nightmare about Arabic.

I love napping an unusual amount. When I think of high school and college, some of the sweetest memories that come rushing over me are of lazy afternoons when I came home to an empty house or apartment and threw myself into the soft arms of a delicious nap.

Even though I know better, I still tell the very un-riveting story of my best high school nap.

Class ended at 1:30 and by 1:35 I’d started the long walk across the parking lot to my car. Rain was on the way. During school I’d heard the thunder muttering and grumbling in the east. The sky was an angry color, turning the late afternoon into an other worldly something between night and day. Before I reached the car, I felt thick, warm drops on my face and soon it was dumping rain. I ran but it was too late and I was already soaked by the time I reached shelter inside my noble Ford Taurus.

In the pouring rain, I drove home as fast as I could and sprinted across the lawn into my empty house. Quickly, I changed into a long sleeved t-shirt and sweatpants, lay down on the couch, and fell into one of the best naps of my life. Something about the contrast between the warm interior and the harsh, wet exterior and the gentle darkness that filled my house and the feeling of shelter against nature’s wrath made it an important nap for me, one that I (obviously) still remember with fondness.

For me, the ideal interaction with nature is a nap. When I see majestic vistas, crystal waterfalls, or white desert landscapes filled with watery moonlight, I fantasize about curling up and falling asleep, embraced by nature itself. I imagine a soft green bed beneath a willow tree, the earth all dappled with late afternoon sunlight coming in from over the mountains. I would lay down in my sleep and become a part of the place itself and my being would meld with the trees and the earth and the light.

In my mind, the nap would take on a deeper meaning and become a spiritual experience. Yet I have found that no matter how deep I sleep and no matter how peaceful or well rested I feel upon awaking, my naps are just naps, little sleeps enriching my day before I enter the big sleep and then the biggest sleep. I believe the spiritual disciplines of trances and meditation have come from the deeply human desire for spiritual slumber. Perhaps one of these days I will try those methods, but until then I will keep on napping and never stop.

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