Sick Widdo Chunk

Well after two days of really intense workouts, not a lot of food, and an odd sleep schedule, I just, in the past like 1.5 hours, have gotten totally sick. I am achey, have chills, feel nauseated (like very close to vomiting), and have the slightest of slight runny noses.

The point is not to complain, but just to say that I really miss having SOMEONE who can hug me. My mom would hug me and tuck me into my tv-watching bed and call me her "poor widdo guy," and although I was never really sick with Pookie (I was really healthy, then!), I remember once when he got REALLY sick, and I loved being there just to hold him when he slept. We had been at a really fantastic play with his sister and nieces who were visiting, and he knew he was getting sick, but by the end of the show he hit a WALL (the flu comes on fast like that) and I took him home and he literally passed out in a feverish-lump. Since I know that he's someone who doesn't really DO the whole lovey-dovey interdependent relationship THING, I was trying to be really aware of when he'd want me to scram, but in this kind of cute and helplesslly sick way, he had me stay for a little while, and I just hugged him on the fold-out bed (which will be unnecessary in his new Eastern Palace).

Yeah...I have friends, but I have NO ONE who I want to hug me in Cairo, and I really miss that!

This reminds me of a bird flu joke I heard today (from the rather mindless assistant manager of food and beverage at the Hyatt who thinks he's god's gift to gay men -- he actually told me he didn't GET the joke at first!): "Concerned about the threat of an impending avian flu epidemic, US President George W. Bush ordered immediate air strikes on the Canary Islands."

VC

Held at Harvard

Well you guys are always asking me for updates, and here it is: Got my "Hold" letter from Harvard.

They basically say: "We are waiting to make a decision on your file until we have had a chance to compare you to a greater percentage of the total applicants," and the deadline for the rest of the applications is the beginning of February.

There is a new Director of Admissions this year, and it appears (compared to years past) that he is putting basically all of the non-"auto-admits" on Hold, and has said on his blog that "the vast majority of offers of admission will be made in the future," however it's hard to not feel like this is, as it was in years past, a fast track to the waitlist.

In any case, I can't stress about it, but I do feel a but puzzled by what to do next. From what I understand (I have not read the letter myself), its recommended that you send in supplemental materials, updated transcripts, and a "why Harvard?" statement.

My problem is that my application was already so full of supplements, including a "Harvard: A Perfect Fit" essay, that I don't even know what to send them. I don't think sending an updated AUC transcript where my GPA went from 3.94 to 3.97 will be particularly relevant, and I'm not sure who would write me a more glowing rec letter than the ones I already have.

I understand that there are some applications that are basically a GPA, an LSAT, an irrelevant personal statement, some uninsightful rec letters, and a resume, and that HLS and other ad coms don't have a clear idea, after reading such aps, who the student really is. That is not the case with my application. Whoever reads my application actually knows (perhaps sadly? lol) more about me than almost all of the readers of this blog, and I just don't know how to supplement something that really was complete.

As I've expressed to Pookie via email, part of what bothers me about this is that I feel like it still represents the consequences of some really poor decision making and unfortunate and sustained weakness in my last semester at Columbia, and I'm just so tired of there being so many consequences to that. It will ALWAYS have an impact on what I think of a lot of things -- how I relate to people, the Hamptons, how I feel when I hear Russian...just SO many things...and I wish it didn't also enter into this. The fact is, though, that my GPA dropped from 3.86 (autoadmit range) to 3.74 (below the median) in the space of ONE disastrous semester, and while the consequences on my GPA are the least important of all in terms of what that whole "moment" in my life means, it matters a lot (A LOT) for law school.

Yes, I'm going to go to a Top 5 law school, and yes I wanted to be in NYC for a ton of reasons, but (as I've also recently said to Pookie, so forgive me for repeating myself), I want my choice to go back to NYC to be because I've balanced a lot of factors in my head and made a positive decision to engage NYC again, not a decision made by default because I had no other option.

For the record, when I get out-right rejected from Stanford and Yale, I'm not going to bitch about it, because I totally expect that. I did NOT expect this.

And Mommy Wong, can you please stop throwing in "and when you get into Harvard and Stanford and Yale..." into your emails to me. It's not going to happen, and that's ok, but I'd rather YOU be happy with reality than happy with an unrealistic distortion of it. Not *everyone* in our family can dance, not *everyone* in our family takes great photos, and I am not getting into HYS.

For a bit of levity, here is one of the photos I mentioned before that I saved in order to use when I get bad news from law schools. This is a photo of the steps leading up to a Harvard classroom. Could it look any more ominous? No wonder people at Harvard are unhappy...




















VC

VC Lashes Out

...and makes an 8 cent profit!

Since I've managed to totally ignore things of global importance ranging from bird flue, to Sharon, to the Paris riots, I figured I'd use my intellectual energy and spare time to send my thoughts (mostly negative) to the author of this editorial piece about Michelle Kwan's quest go to her third olympic games (read it -- it's really short).

This was the email I sent him:

****************

Just read your editorial on the Kwan petition, and while I like your sense of humour, I think the journalism is far from rigorous (and I'm not even a die-hard Kwan fan).

The vast majority of voters who recused themselves did so not because of personal relationships to Kwan (although you make it sound like this was exclusively the case in your article), but because they had personal relationships with competitor skaters (eg: as coaches), or were themselves competitor skaters who held spots on the "international committee." This is just basic research.

Regarding self-aggrandizing manipulation of the system, I hardly think that that's what this petition is about. As the committee has said, it's their job to get medals -- no one is going to be impressed with Kwan if she can't land a jump, least of all herself, and that's what this petition-vote-test skate process is about. If ANY skater (Kwan or not) cannot skate, then they petition -- it's not an aberration of the system, but the system at work.

It's not like some skating diva said "I don't feel like trying out" and expected people to bow to her will. It's written into to skating bylaws that this petition process exists, and it exists for a reason (namely: last-minute injuries that might make traditional skater comparisons difficult); in fact, you might recall that the last time it was invoked was to bump 13yo Kwan off the team when Nancy Keragan was attacked. What is not written into the bylaws is that the US Nationals is a definitive "olympic trails" (as you say in your article). In fact, it's explicitly stated that this is not the case -- the top performer from US Nationals is to be taken as an auto-admit to the Olympic team, and the next two spots are to be determined by vote (normally the vote follows the US trials, but it needn't necessarily do so).

That is part of what makes your PGA and NASCAR analogies so erroneous -- this was not an ad hoc system made for Kwan, but a system that allows for the selection of a medal-winning team that is flexible enough to take injuries into account.

I also don't really understand your revelation that this is about medals. Of course this is about medals -- it's the job of the national competition to provide PART of the criterion for the committee to decide who is most likely to earn medals. You seem to have a vision of a system that should serve itself (and not have medals as its secret agenda), arguing that it's unfair for the third place national finisher to be bumped as part of a greedy Olympic medals quest. This is inconsistent, though, with your desire to have US Nationals be the exclusive Olympic trials. If you think that Olympic selection should be based entirely on one system, then that system needs to serve the goal of the Olympics, and that is winning medals. It would be a waste of all the money (including tax payer money) being poured into the training of US athletes for it to serve anything else. Kwan didn't petition to be awarded third place at nationals -- Hughes has that and it stands alone; she petitioned to have her candidacy for the US Olympic team be considered, as has happened in the past and is part of US figure skating Olympic selection rules, considered outside the domain of the US national competition, the burden on any petitioner being to prove that (s)he is the most qualified to win the US medals at the Olympics.

I like your sarcastic (almost snotty, actually) style, but I think it was a bit misdirected, and, in the few instances I've described here (eg: your description of the judges who recused themselves, the "olympic trials," and the comparison to NASCAR and golf) is simply incorrect.

I do appreciate any article that includes a dig at the Abramoff scandal, though :)

Just my two cents,

Veiled Chunk

*****************

Here is his reply (very prompt!)

mr. chunk,

thanks for taking the time to read and write back.

while i did not attend the nationals in st. louis, what i learned of the international committee and the reasons for the low number of votes was through the internet and from a bunch of news services and reporters that did cover the event.

from what i've heard and read, kwan is not some high-maintenance diva. she's simply using the system to her advantage.

maybe my golf and nascar analogies were off base. perhaps i should have mentioned other olympic sports trials. if maurice greene had been hurt going into the u.s. sprint trials or false-started his way out, did he have similar recourse? if swimmer michael phelps was rehabbing a torn shoulder muscle or dq'd at the trials for an illegal turn, would the usoc say: don't worry, you're coming anyway?

i also looked at the salt lake and nagano teams, where the top 3 finishers at the u.s. trials were the olympic skaters. as i told someone else, the kwan-kerrigan situation in '94 was justified. when you're essentially kneecapped by another competitor, that's about as extenuating as circumstances get.

i know the olympics are about medals. it would be more honest if those involved would just say so. say: 'these may look like trials, but they're not. the winner goes, and all of us suits then decide everybody else you cheer for.'

believe me, i appreciate your thoughts. they're worth at least a dime. take care.

dave fairbank

****************

I am tempted to point him towards Serena Williams's last selection to the Olympics over Lisa Raymond in doubles (keeping in mind that Lisa Raymond had been #1 in the world in doubles for a few YEARS), and the consistently opaque process through which the girl's (I use that language deliberately) gymnastics team is selected -- part trials, part behind-the-scenes training camp assessment, part smoke-filled-room debates. I would ALSO remind him that the sports in which we are most strict about trails (eg: track and field) are sports in which we are basically guaranteed a medal whether or not the trial accurately selects the top athlete (because usually our third or fourth best runner can get a medal).

Oh well :)

Feel a little bad that I lied about being a die-hard Kwan fan to gain credibility, but not that bad ;)

VC

Double Wins

...For Pookie and Martina Hingis!

I had beed reluctant to blog about Martina Hingis's comeback, and about her first round match at the Australian Open especially, because I was worried about jinxing her. For the same reason, I hadn't shared with those closest to me the *fantastic* news that Pookie had reached an agreement on a new flat in New York.

I've been thinking about it though, and I realized that Madame Wong would be very disappointed (not really -- I can't ever disappoint her because she loves me so much and I'm so close to perfect ;p) by how superstitious I'd become (eg: over Ricco Gross, Hingis, Pookie...), because she has always said that she doesn't believe in superstition OR luck ("We make our own luck!"), and I think that this really is demonstrated by both Hingis and Pookie (a weird comparison, I know).

Hingis just played a *gorgeous* (literally) match with Zvonareva, crushing her 6-1 6-2, and it had NOTHING to do with getting lucky -- it had to do with a lot of talent and thousands of hours on court. Pookie has reached an agreement on great Murray Hill flat that ALSO had nothing to do with luck, but about shrewd market timing, clear (post-Moscow) thinking, hard work looking for flats and setting realistic search parameters, and working for more than two decades (WOW!) in private law to make this kind of purchase possible.

These kinds of people do not need luck.

They can use our well-wishing, though, so let's send some colletive optimism their way that Hingis continues to make an impressive comeback to professional tennis, and that Pookie gets approval from the co-op board.

Let's not spread our good wishes too thin: I could compile a list a mile long of things we could wish for for Desi Puppy and the whole rest of the bunch...even for Martina and Pookie there is more road ahead than behind: Hingis needs to remain injury free and Pookie needs to finish upgrading his current flat, find good buyers who are themselves co-op approved, etc. For now, though, my blog wish is that they both continue with lots of success (tomorrow, which is a day off for Hingis :) I might focus my psychic positive energy on friend's job searches or my own law school aps!).

Anyway, YAY for the good news for two people I want good things for!

On a totally unrelated note, check out this CRAZY photo of Serena Williams's booty. I could be biting by 1000 mosquitoes while brushing my teeth and it would NEVER look like that!

As a former student of art history, I have to say that I think that the photo was deliberately constructed with the dog's anus in full/direct view so as to send the subconscious message that it is THAT area of the subject (Serena) that we are to focus on (it "points," iconographically, to her luscious booty).




















Sidenote: Think the Jack Russell could get Murray Hill co-op approval? Could Serena's booty?

VC

Bad Dreams and Sports News

What happened in real life last night: A mosquito *bit my ass* (like almost between the cheeks!) while I was brushing my teeth through my underwear. The downside is that I have a constant urge to scratch my butt; the upside is that I must have a pretty firm rear, otherwise it would have been jiggling* too much while brushing my teeth for the little bug to land and have his bootyliscious feast. I then fell asleep watching the US Open.

*When I originally typed that sentence, my inability to spell (and the inability of MSWord SpellCheck to understand intent) had me talking about "giggling" rather than "jiggling." I just want it stated, in case I ever make a similar spelling error that I do not catch and correct, that under NO circumstances does my ass ever, EVER giggle.

What happened in my dream world (you can see the transformation of what happened at night to what I dreamed about): I was being chased by spiders (but like BIG spiders, like the size of crabs...not really chased but they were pursuing me in my flat and I kept having to smash them), and was slated to play world #1 (and Swiss hottie) Roger Federer in the first round of the Australian Open. It was really high pressure (duh) because *no one had ever seen me play.* I was a rumoured phenom, but everyone knew I wasn't a pro and had never played a match like that. I had all this public support in Australia (and from a coaching team), though, because people kept saying: "You've never done it before, but you can, now. It's in you even if it's never been used." It's kind of like I've always said: Anyone with well-functioning limbs and medium stature can physically make the MOTION that generates a 120mph serve, the problem is that it takes most people 15 years of non-stop tennis coaching to be able to do that...similarly, I could *theoretically* hit a forehand the same as Roger Federer, it's just infinitely unlikely. SO, in this match, it was like I needed to hope for this serendipitous moment where I'd hit shot after shot at his level, and I kind of woke up when we went on court, but I remember it hitting me that I could not count on a miracle streak of points, and kept flashing back to the spiders chasing me.

I'll end my tennis news (guess this wasn't really NEWS lol: "Veiled Chunk Dreams He Plays Roger Federer in Meblourne, Rumoured to Suffer From Arachnophobia"), by this FANTASTICALLY attitde-y quote from Venus williams in her post-match interview after losing to unknown Bulgarian teen, Tsvetana Pironkova, in the first round of the AO:

Q. Why should we believe that you'll be back to where you were?

VENUS WILLIAMS: Well, I think that at the end of the day, I don't care if you believe or anyone else believes in here, because it's me. So believe what you want to. There's always going to be nay sayers. You may be one of them, I don't know. Guess what, I don't care.

My last sports update (and I'm too lazy to lookup the actual name, times, etc.) is that an Ethiopian runner has broken ANOTHER long-distance world record, this time setting a half-marathon (just over 13 miles) time of less than 59 minutes. Curie ran her first half-marathon EVER in the Fall (I think I blogged about it, actually), and finished in about 99 minutes. Now, I realize that percentage-wise (and minutes/mile wise) this sounds like a big difference, but really, what IS 40 minutes? I can hardly brush my teeth, get my ass eaten by a mosquito, and since my morning Whitney Houston repertoire while attempting to get dressed in 40 minutes. To me, Curie is stunningly close to breaking the world record, at least when her distance from it is measured by what I can accomplish in the time she'd have to shave-off her debut finish, which is almost nothing.

The two TOTALLY unrelated photos with this post are of Martina Hingis (I LOVE HER!) practicing her volley's in preparation of her first round match, tomorrow, at the Australian Open. I'm SO nervous for her! It's an oddly beautiful photo (she has a very untraditional beauty about her). The second photo is of another favorite athlete of mine, Michelle Kwan, doing a cool laid-back spin. I haven't bothered to blog about all her injuries drama, the drama about her provisional selection for the Olympics, etc., but let's just hope that she's healthy and can finally take the gold!

VC

CNN Farsi F*ck-Up

I just happened to be watching CNN when the anchor off handedly remarked, at the end of a story about Iran and EU-3 negotiations, that it wanted to correct an interpretation error it made last week in translating a speech by Iran's President Ahmedinejad.

CNN translated his comments as: "Iran has the right to nuclear weapons."

The correct translation, CNN now says a week later, was actually something basically identical to: "Iran has the right to nuclear energy. Civilized nations do not have the need for nuclear weapons. Iran does not have the need for nuclear weapons."

???

I'm sorry, but I think my deceased cat could have gotten the original translation more on point.* This borders on grossly irresponsible, in my opinion, especially since there has since been global outrage about his comments, MUCH of that outrage in response to what was seen on the news (one would presume) and reproduced *as things are* with increasing hysteria through mass media conglomerates.

I mean it's as if they were to say something like: "Gore takes Florida," or "12 miners alive, one dead." I mean can you IMAGINE?

Oh wait. You Can.

VC

*Granted, Qi was a really intelligent kitty and, like Ricco Gross, was a genius polyglot.

Iron Chunk

It's supposed to be a pun on both Iron Chef and Iron Man...

Why?

Because today is my first day back at the gym *and* my first day cooking!

It's 1:30 and as the housekeeper is about to arrive, I'm going to AUC to submit my passport for residency renewal, and visit the security office to report a harasser who has been calling more than 15 times/day for the past 5 days or so (just some random person who speaks no English and probably just dials my number randomly) -- won't get into all the failed steps I tried to take, already, to solve that problem, because then I'll feel frustrated and unmotivated :) I'll then head over to the Hyatt for a workout (with my new Nano) and lunch with a book that I'll review, later. Tonight will be heavy Arabic, as classes resume tomorrow, and I want to make a work plan for what I'll be doing outside Kalimat (my language school) to supplement my learning.

On the horizon, I also want to tighten up the work that I did last semester on humanitarian law and the insurgency in Iraq, so that it's fit for the Harvard web-portal (did I already explain that, here?), and will need to start working, on the 17th, on the syllabus for the course that I'm TA-ing in the Spring (Human Rights in the Middle East and Africa).

We'll see if the lentils actually get cooked, tonight, since I might be having lentils later at the Hyatt, but they are sitting in my flat, now, so I have everything I need to make my first meal...ever (other than hot pockets).

VC

Edit: I forgot that Ricco is racing in the men's pursuit, today! Might have to come home after AUC, as that starts at 3:30PM...then gym before dinner. But what to do with the housekeeper?? Have her come back on Thursday. Yes, that's the plan.

Maria Callas Diet

*Loving* the BBC special I'm watching right now on "The Tigress" opera diva Maria Callas.

Just wanted to say that she went from obese to slim in about two seconds and you know her secret? Steak tartare :) aka: a tapeworm from uncooked meat.

I'm going to go lick the streets in Cairo's butchery district now,* and pray for a tapeworm. By the way -- the "name that worm" competition I had more than a month ago on this blog? The answer was tapeworm. It's like a Veiled Chunk leitmotif!

"All my tears can never bring his love to me" (name that opera!) ended up being all too true for Callas, though, and I have to say that hearing her speak about her pursuit of Onassis -- who totally chose Jackie Kennedy over her -- reminds me a lot of my early romantic decisions (how's THAT for narcissism?). You work and work for someone (in my case an Evil Russian, in her case a Greek billionaire...ok so I should have set the bar higher lol) and then you look back on the isolation and secrecy and everything you lost (basically your life) and are both stunned by your own stupidity and loss of power and devastated by all that you didn't end up with combined with all that you lost. Good thing I moved on...she didn't. It sounds like people like to depict her death two years after Onassis died as the tragic (but strong-willed) female following her life pursuit to the grave. I don't know about that. I think that suicide happens when you really feel yourself to be removed from the system...like almost physically -- like you could die and literally EVERYTHING in the world would go on as it did before...you only kill yourself when you feel you've already ceased to exist (this is my impression). In any case, I'd like to think that her death was something more sublime than the willed-suicide of a tortured woman frustrated by lost love and a faded career, but why should anyone focus on hero (or in this case: heroine) narratives around her death, when she obviously was a legend in life. Personally I don't care how or why she died when I hear the high E she hit in Mexico singing in Aida -- either Onassis nor cracked-voice performances during a short London comeback can take that from her (let's hope Martina Hingis remembers that if things don't go so well for her).

Wow -- from tapeworms to suicide to Swiss tennis players. I'm really all over the place!

Off to have coffee with a Syrian film critic who lives nearby. The things I'll do for a visa ;p (kidding!).

VC

*There is no such thing, as far as I know, as a Cairene butchery district, and if there were, I certainly wouldn't know where it would be found.

Ricco is En Route

His back is better (I massaged it lots the other day) and is in the 10km spring in Ruhpolding AS WE SPEAK.

I'm so nervous.

He's cleared all the targets on the prone and standing shoots but is not all that fast right now on the snow -- in 2nd beind a really fast French guy (Poiree).

Will update!

VC

EDIT: My lover is 10 seconds out of the lead with a Russian now 6 seconds ahead of him for second.

EDIT: AH! Another German is 0.4 seconds ahead of him and he's rumoured to accelerate (which Ricco doesn't).

Edit: NO! Some Swede (who's only 20! I DETEST YOUNGER GUYS!) is now in 2nd.

It's hard to compare in these races because everyone stars at different times, do you can only compare split times.

Edit: Gross is across the line and can do no better than 2nd because someone finished ahead of him already. Some other German just finished (Wolfgan Rottman -- fastest skiier but sucked on the standing shoot) and his heart rate is 178 beats per minute.

Edit: AH! Someone else just finished ahead of Ricco. Ok I can't update again until it's ALL over, beecause it's making me neurotic and sad :(

Edit: Not done yet but wanted to say that the 20yo burned out :) HA! Ricco in 4th at the moment, but one another German is almost guaranteed to beat him, so I'm praying for 5th

Edit: OMG I jinxed my babe AGAIN! The 20 somehow managed to shoot EVERY standing target in like 1 second and even though he fell ON HIS FACE in the snow skiing out of the range, is like 15 seconds in the lead! Which puts 123 as German-French-German, and then Ricco probably in 6th :(

Edit: The 20yo put in an unbeatable time and 123 is Germany-France-Germany (so far). My only satisfaction is that the youngster was filmed in slow motion at the finish making some kind of oddly-fascist salute, kissing his fist while snot and spit stuck to his hand -- the most unglamorous part of this sport being that by the end they are COVERED in semi-frozen snot and drool. Oh...and he's 22, not 20.

Edit: The 22yo just got bumped by someone I don't dislike as much. Bad for my baby, good for my jealousy of the 22yo German. Looks like my babe is in 7th :(

But whatever, I don't love him because he's a championship skiier...or because he's extremely hot...or because he loves dogs and is a polyglot and is extremely hot (oh wait, I already said that). I love him because of who he is INSIDE -- which is an extremely hot championship skiier polyglot dog-lover ;p

VC

One Approach To Marriage

I had dinner last night with a close friend who I've mentioned a few times on the blog -- it was his auction where I met Leopold -- we'll call him "Glam" (which is how he signs all his emails lol), and he was telling me all about his friends from Vanderbuilt, and one of them sounds like SUCH a hoot.

I think Dr. Juicey and a certain Nocal Desi I know will like this story, especially...

A friend of Glam's from Vanderbuilt married the Director of Deutschebank in Japan (he is German), and their children grew up speaking English, German, French, and Japanese. Not the point, but still impressive.

Anyway, he (like some other pookies I know?) sometimes just needed to get away from everyone (especially her lol) and escape, and she understood and permitted that...but every time he disappeared for a weekend (about every two months he'd go for a few days into hiding) she demanded payment. She accepted cash payment or jewels, and he knew the routine: he'd disappear, return, and with no drama and not a word of condemnation from his wife, a bill from some auction house would come to him for some necklace or bracelent, and he'd pay up. It was quite the system. After many years of marriage, his disappearing routine landed her a villa in Hawaii and mansion in coastal texas with its own guesthouse and infinity pool.

One day, he came home, and told her: "I don't love you any more." His (teenage) children were there with them in the house. She said: "That's fine. Go tell your children that." He did. She then told him: "If you want a divorce then I understand that, but I hope you understand that I am going to take everything." He told her that he was miserable within the confines of marriage and was sorry. She told him that he didn't need to apologize, and that she didn't have a problem if he needed a divorce to save his own hapiness -- it was totally up to him...but she was gonna take everything. And she did.

Well wouldn't you know it, a year or two later, he came back to her and told her that while he was miserable in marriage, he wanted to work on things, because he was equally incomplete outside marriage. Glam told me that it would be obscene to even REPEAT the kind of contract she made him sign to get back together...I'm guessing she now owns a group of small islands off Okinawa.

I just thought it was hilarious.

There's no real moral to the story. I like a husband who knows when he should pay, and I like a wife who knows when to stand her ground. That said, I think that there must have been a better system for his wallet and BOTH their sanity that the disappear-payoff-disappear-payoff cycle. I think that people should pay for occassional transgressions (as an act of apology and as a display of one's intention to not repeat), but when something becomes habitual, it's time to take it to a counselor (that he should pay for lol).

VC

Chunky Predictions: Women in the Australian Open

Begining with the Quarter Finals:

Q1: Henin v. Davenport = Henin to Semis
(this will require Henin defeating Venus Williams in the Round of 16, and a tough match between Davenport and Kuznetsova in the Round of 16, as well)

Q2: Serena Williams v. Dementieva = Serena to Semis
(this is a complicated result: Serena comes up against Sharapova in the Round of 16, and hopefully will upset her; I also am thinking that Dementieva will upset Petrova, so basically neither Serena nor Dementieva are seeded to reach the Quarters but I hope they both will…the other lurker in this Quarter is Serbian Jelena Jankovic, who could defeat Dementieva in the Third Round, and herself come up against Petrova in the Round of 16, with the winner of that match going on to play the winner of the Serena v. Sharapova Round of 16 match)

Q3: Mauresmo v. Schneyder = Mauresmo to Semis
(this is according to the seeding – I think there is a chance Myskina could upset Schneyder in the Round of 16, but I’d still pick Mauresmo over Myskina)

Q4: Clijsters v. Hingis = Hingis to Semis
(ok, now, this one takes a lot of explanation: first of all, Hingis is my favourite player EVER, as I already mentioned, so I have to pick her to win some things that might not be the smartest bet; this is one of those cases…Hingis has a tough first round match against the most unstable on-court personality I have ever seen – and I totally feel for her for that lol – Vera Zvonareva; if Hingis makes it past Zvonareva, then I think she’s good until the Third Round where she’ll meet Mary Pierce; if Hingis beats Pierce, then I think she’ll also survive her Round of 16 Match and make it to the Quarters…in that sense, I’m optimistic: Hingis needs to beat Zvonareva and Pierce and she’s in the Quarters!...that’s the top half of this quarter…in the other half, you have Clijsters as the clear favourite, except that her hip and her back might be a little messed up, which I’m hoping will carry her through to the Quarters, if Italian Francesca Schiavone – the most Italian woman EVER – doesn’t upset her in the Round of 16, but hopefully a little injured, too…which would allow Hingis to upset her in the Quarters – or flat-out beat Schiavone if Clijsters is upset earlier)

This leaves the Semis as: Henin v. Serena and Mauresmo v. Hingis. It makes me salivate. I think that, while BOTH are rusty, Henin and Hingis can both pull it out, which puts Henin and Hingis in my dream final.

Sadly for my #1 Swiss star, I’m picking Henin for the final, but I think it’s *enough* of a success story (for now, at least) for Hingis to make it to the finals of the Australian Open.

VC

Pray for My Ricco

Disaster: My baby Ricco Gross has injured his back and was pulled out of Germany's relay team, today, in Ruhpolding (which is in Germany, FYI, AND is Gross's hometown!).

There is a lot of speculation, now, that he will be deselected from the German olympic team, despite the fact that, according to Eurosport commentators, he has won THREE gold medals with the German relay team and FIVE world championship golds with them, as well. They also called him "THE most reliable servant to Germany over the last 15 years," which would have been, of course, a pretty dubious distinction 60 years ago.

While you're praying for athletes I love, put in a few good words to whomever you look towards (I'm so hungry right now, my choice would be: Large Cheese Pizza with light sauce) for Martina Hingis and Justine Henin for the upcoming Aussie Open. My fantasy semifinals (although I haven't seen the draw to know if it's even possible) would have Hingis wining the final over Henin, after Hingis beats Mauresmo in the Semis, and Henin beats Pierce. Not that you care (AT ALL), my favourite players go like this:

Always Henin, unless she is playing Hingis (my real #1)
Always Mauresmo, unless she is playing Henin or Hingis
Always Pierce, unless she is playing one of the three
Otherwise, I'm rooting for Serena

There are of course emotional victories I'd love for Hingis/Henin to have (like I could have said "Henin over Davenport in the semis and Hingis over Sharapova") but then my OTHER faves couldn't have made it that far in the tournament, which makes me sad.

VC

Jinxed Ma Babe

I’m so sad! Part of my Eurosport obsession has made me an avid follower of biathalons. Today I watched a riveting race in which the German women were like krystalnacht all over again (if that’s even how you spell it). There was ONE Russian woman and ONE French woman in the top 8, and I swear all the others were German. The camera was set at the finish, which is just past the last climb/turn of the race, and I swear these girls just kept turning the corner and sliding and attacking the finish, poles and skis like Deutsche-Terminator or something. You’d have to see it. It was intimidating and frightening in that kind of thrilling way (like when you used to see all the Soviet gymnasts rock ALL their routines without sweating or smiling).

In the men’s race, though, I totally jinxed my lover. Now, since I’ve already BOTH asserted my saintly celibacy and repeatedly made reference to my romantic designs on one NYC Pookie, I should qualify this by saying that by “lover” I mean “hot athlete who I have seen a few times on TV and who, now that Pookie is frolicking with some Muscovite snow dancer somewhere in Novisibirsk, I am adopting as my fantasy man.” Let the fantasy begin…

His name is Ricco. Hey is SERIOUSLY Ricco. Ricco Gross – kind of an Italian-turned-German thing.

The fantasy background that I’ve made up for us is that we met one year ago when I was in Zurich. We were in the same shop looking at Freitag (Friday) Swiss recycled-truck bags (found at the Bloomie’s in SoHo for you NYCers) and he was so impressed with my pronunciation of “Freitag” when he overheard me asking the salesperson a question about the bag that that he approached me and said (in German, which I don’t speak but I of course understand): “You sound German when you speak, but have the face of a Eurasian angel and the body of a devil.”

I blushed and pretended to be offended by his forwardness (in English): “Actually I’m from Monaco” (like I’d tell him the truth in our first meeting? Egypt has taught me better…) “and I appreciate the compliments, but I’d be more impressed with someone who noticed my mind than my body.”

HE then said in flawless French: “Before becoming an Olympic biathlete, I was a PhD Candidate in Heidelberg in continental philosophy.”

At this, I picked up the bag I was looking at, opened the flap, grabbed a pen off the counter, and wrote my number ON the inside of the bag (the salesperson was totally shocked) closed the bag, handed it to him, said “buy it and call me,” and walked away.

I took the trolly to the river, where I sat by some non-hissing swans (Swiss swans are SUPER well-behaved!), and thought about how I wished I lived in Switzerland and not Egypt. Deep in reverie, I barely noticed Ricco approach me – barely noticed, that is, until he held me at gunpoint. Don’t be scared (even though I was): he jokingly had his beebie rifle pressed against my neck and said in my right ear: “One move and I’m throwing the bag in the river.”

I grinned: “I wouldn’t recommend that. It will just be such a hassle for you when I push you into the river and make you retrieve it for me.”

He sat down next to me and we properly introduced ourselves. As it turns out, Switzerland is his favourite country, too, and it was by total coincidence that he’d come to the same spot by the swans, where he said he’s also spent many a contemplative moment.

I was leaving for NYC the next day, and he had to go to some world championships of biathlon or something, but since that day he has called me religiously at least once a week, and we have often met in a cabin of his on Lake Geneva. I’m really popular with his biathlon buddies, mostly because they see how much happier (and faster on the snow) Ricco is, now that I’m in his life.

Just so you know a bit more about him, here are some photos. I took these photos of him training during the summer in Afghanistan (can you believe the sweetheart followed me there just to make sure I was safe!?), and I particularly love the one of him doing the standing shoot (no giggles!). The one of him on the ski rollerblades going up the paved hill might surprise you, because there aren’t very many paved roads in Afghanistan, but the big humanitarian sweetheart that he is PAVED A ROAD that he not only used as a practice track, but was also used by wheelchair-bound widows to get from mosque to market. So thoughtful, he is.

I have a cute photo of him on the podium from last March in Norway, and I know you are all wondering “did he dedicate the victory to you?” The answer is no, he did not – he actually dedicated it to Madame Wong (they really hit it off, because he has crazy taste in furniture, too), and promised to dedicate his immanent gold medal at this year’s Torino Olympics to me.

The last photo I have to share with you is of him looking over the rifle with chilling intensity at a race I was at in northern Greece last winter. I was having a bit of a stalking problem when the Shooto fighter known as “Shaolin,” pictured in my blog, below, got wind of my blogging about him, fell madly in love, and wouldn’t leave me alone. Poor Ricco had to always carry extra bullets in his riffle whenever we were together, just in case Shaolin appeared out of nowhere, and in this race he had a sixth sense intuition that Shaolin was nearby. We’re SO connected in that way.

I know you are all wondering – is he as intense off the shooting range as he is on the shooting range? The answer is: HE SURE IS! Let’s just say I’ve seen that look more than once ;)

Sadly, though, I totally jinxed him in today’s race (that was the whole point of this ridiculous story, actually) – he was in the lead going into the final shoot, had cleared the last set of targets in record time (less than 25 seconds), and then he missed TWO of the five targets on the last shoot. He is trying to peak for the Olympics, so today’s tournament wasn’t SO important, but the poor babe gets SO upset when he doesn’t perform to the highest level, it took about two hours of cuddling him and BOTH Legally Blonde DVDs to calm him down. I’m flying back to Cairo, tonight, and won’t see him again until Italy, but win or lose we’re spending a few days together on Lake Como after Torino, and I am really looking forward to being together again.

(on a serious note: he is a real hottie and did TOTALLY blow it on today’s final shoot; I seem to be jinxing ALL my favourite athletes: Hingis lost in Sydney, Federer lost today, although to another hot German who I like, and Kwan is injured and has to PETITION to be on the US Olympic Team!)

I may have said this on my blog, before, or maybe I just said it privately to Curie, but I think I would be an EXCELLENT biathlete. I’m good at accuracy/practice/precision things like shooting, and I think that I’m built a lot like the biathletes (I can just tell it would be a motion that my body would feel good doing – especially the climbs and that double-polled lunging that they do more in sprints), BUT – and this is why Curie and I concluded that I couldn’t really do any form of cross-country skiing, I can’t turn my feet out (Ricco doesn’t consider my pigeon toedness to be a deformity, but alas it limits my biathlon abilities) and almost ALL of the skiing positions require a bow-legged turned-out position…people like me would just trip over their crossed skis.

VC

Hating On Yale

Just wanted to say that Yale is going WAY overboard on its website in terms of trying to appear diverse. I don't have a problem with diversity -- I have a problem with borderline-desperate efforts to APPEAR diverse. It's like Yale's new marketing device is to make us think we're on the BET webpage.

I have been keeping some of the webpage bloopers of top law schools that will soon reject me just so I can feel better about being refused admission, and although Yale has not YET given me the thumbs down, I am compelled to start my hating early (love the school, hate the website).

First of all, of the three people who appear in photos on the official YLS homepage (www.law.yale.edu -- I don't want to link to it because I'm paranoid that they will track back to my blog) two ("students" and "alumni") are black, and one is the asian dean ("faculty"). Now, I love 'em, but isn't Yale trying a LITTLE hard to appear to not occupy the penthouse suite in the proverbial ivory tower? More outrageous is the photo, shown here and taken from the main financial aid webpage, of a bunch of black students sitting around laughing and studying (the only photo on the Financial Aid main page). WHAT IS THE MESSAGE? “If they can afford it, so can you!” or “Yale’s Blacks LOVE them some financial aid!” ?? It’s so odd. All the other people in other sections of the website are wearing v-neck sweaters and seem to be jcrew models while not studying at YLS, and this bunch is pictured in tshirts and (I can barely say it) OVERALLS and baseball caps. They may as well have a bucket of KFC, as far as Yale is concerned.

The other weird thing about the Yale Law School webpage, and I don’t even remember where I found this (back in September or October) is its school crest, which to me looks like a cheap East Village tarot card.














VC

More Royksopp

Merry Christmas to me!

I took no trips, I saved the money on my Arabic course at AUC, and I bought a pot to start cooking: aka -- I'm saving money.

SO, to celebrate, I bought myself a much needed Christmas gift: MY NEW BLACK iPOD-NANO!

It's gorgeous. I've named it Panda Pod (did I already talk about non-mating Pandas in an earlier blog? If not, then remind me to).

Anyway, since I'm listening to the aforementioned Royksopp on my new Panda Pod, I decided to finally edit the lyrics, below, from "Only This Moment" (read them again: It's a fantastic song with an equally fantastic video), and also include another song before I dash off to finally get my haircut and have lunch (and go to the gym with my new iPOD!):

Some of the lyrics are REALLY good (and some of the songs are REALLY bad lol), this song -- which I don't particularly like -- "49%" has a some great lines related to infidelity:

I won't try to dent your night, or stop your flight
I've known our plight
You know I'm right

I know about your little fling
How you hide your ring
You senseless thing -- I'll cut this string

The heat has simmered for a while
It's not my style -- so versatile, and with a smile...

When you kissed your toad, you killed your princely episode...

****

Actually that last line is my favourite.

The song "Circuit Breaker" is great -- personally, I think it depicts a kind of "love" that sounds hot, but is not what I would want for myself. It's a bit over the top, unsustainable, etc., but I do really like some of the words (I'm impressed by the poetry of this one):

What is that vitalizing sound?
Calling me
In my head
Repeatedly

What is that visionary sight?
Before my eyes
So prominent
So mesmerizing turbulent

You've got a hold on me
Your ingenuity
Seems to be driving me
down on my knees

The force you generate
You reinvigorate
Your body talks
and overstates

****

I LOVE that -- your body talks and overstates. There are other snippets here and there that are really good ("this candid chemistry").

Since this is a blog about ME, though, and not about Swedish electronic artists, I'll end with a song that in some ways feels apropos right now (of course, like all songs, it is limited in its applicability to my life and would require all kinds of qualifications). Unfortunately, I hate the actual song, but the lyrics are very well done: "Follow My Ruin"

Down below a faded glow
Vibrant key without a tone
Realize in here it's cold
I can only let it snow

Words were said so long ago
Left a mark, an open sore
You go fast, I'm burnin' slow
Hate to say I knew you'd go

So much going on
And I wish to hold on
So much going on
And I cannot let go

Past the trees that hide our love
Hurry now it's time to go
Make this moment matter more
Show me like you did before

Words were said so long ago
Face defeat and take the blow
So naive now I know more
Won't forget the things before

****

CNN is SO ridiculous! Iran has made the announcement that it's resuming nuclear research and CNN is discussing the story with the headline "Iran Nuclear Standoff" -- HUH? Wouldn't a nuclear standoff be, like, if Pakistan and India had warheads pointed at each other a la Cuban missile crisis? THAT, to me, is a standoff -- not a country announcing (with invites to international journalists and the IAEA) that it's resuming nuclear research.

Gotta shower.

VC

Yalla, Ciao, Bye!

Well Pookie is off to Moscow. I'm kind of worried he's going to return with some PhD physicist ice dancer -tuned- gay tour guide, but since I know first-hand what being in a relationship with a traditional Russian man is like, we'll just wish him luck ;p

No, joking aside (since I know you all follow his life just as much as you do mine!) he has just put his home on the market in NYC and is hammering out a lot of tough decisions about where he will be next and what he will be doing (the "with whom?" questions obviously needs to be answered AFTER the where and what), and I think this trip will be really good for him...plus Russian art is fantastic, and it's such a historically-interesting place.
He is spending the next two days in Amsterdam en route, and I actually planned an intercept trip that would have me there at 10PM tonight and in the Swisshotel (only $130/night!) and I could even visit Den Haag (former stomping ground of Hawk Barbie!) after he continued on to Moscow for $50 roundtrip on the train, but I think he needs his space. I don't mean to sound Panglossian about it, but I think that it will all end up for the best, and I think that when you really love someone, you stop asking yourself (except for certain rare moments of need) "where do I fit in" and focus more on how their lives are going and whether or not they are happy. I certainly see this with my mother, as well as my best friends -- Curie and Juicy and Barbie and Desi are not normally sitting around feeling sorry for themselves because I'm not with them, they are thinking about my life and how they can better support me, and that's what love really is.

Or...........love can be different....Or at least lovin' can lol --> Now, it would not be a blogosphere exaggeration to say that my sex life is about as boring as the Virgin Mary's (that should be my new screen name!), but in an interesting pre-development (meaning: it hasn't developed into anything and probably won't, because I'm *happy* to be the Virgin Mary...except I'd spell it "Marie" since I think it looks better), I was at dinner a few nights ago -- the Hard Rock night actually -- and as it turns out, I was noticed...and not just by Bin Laden and his body guards!

A friend of mine who we will call Leopold (because his real life name is seriously THAT "my parents are historical Egyptian elites and named me after a random Belgian king because that's what rich people, especially ones who do not want their Coptic son named 'Mohammed' used to do" -- French-speaking family etc.) who was our dinner companion with Lord of the Dance, called me today to tell me that we were spotted at the restaurant by a friend of his. To toot my own horn, this is actually the second time in the past 4 months (actually that sounds really sad, now that I think about it) that I've been spotted and later hunted down at a restaurant, but anyway, this guy called Leopold and told him that he wanted to know me (we all know what THAT means) and asked for my number. Leopold called to ask for permission, and the conversation went something like this:

VC: Hello? Leopold? I'm brushing my teeth.

L: Don't tell someone that. Would you say that you are wiping your ass? You are expected to be beautiful and shining with no effort.

VC: Saying I'm wiping my ass and brushing my teeth are two totally different things. Oral hygiene is something that people really value morally. Besides, what are you, a Victorian Woman? [I wanted to tell him about this poem called "Cecilia" that I read as a senior in high school that pokes fun at the dark underbelly of Victorian beauty, talking about a woman in her toilet preparing to go out, and her ear wax, and her bugers, and then, at the end, the disgusting revelation: "Cecilia, Cecilia, Cecilia shits!" -- but I didn't think he'd appreciate the anecdote, as we aren't on that kind of high school anecdotal basis with each other]

{fastforward through him telling me that the other night someone saw us and that's why he's calling, and me saying that it couldn't have been me and that it was either LoTD or the slutty American who was stripping for the Gulfis *or* he's passing me on to someone and making up a story to make it sound "social" and therefore legitimate}

L: He's a GREAT guy. Very intelligent, very very very good background. Upper upper middle class.

VC {chuckling, because in Egypt you wouldn't, especially if you are from a family like Leopold's, consider anyone middle class to be from a good background -- but his value set has changed since his family moved to San Diego, he saw a country like the US with a real middle class, combined with the fact that he has slept with so many REALLY ghetto guys that he is able to recognize shades of grey between the street and the elite}: Ok, so he's married, right?

L: Yeah he's married. But you like that.

VC: I DO NOT LIKE THAT! I like *older* guys, and here they all happen to be married, but that's why I can't be with anyone!

L: You can't expect people to change. He drives a BMW.

VC: You said it's impolite to talk about BMs over the phone *laughing*

L {silence -- puzzled -- a little dim, at least so far I think so, but not because he's ACTUALLY dim, just because here most lamps only handle 60 watt bulbs, and so 100 watt bulbs tend to tone it down a bit so they can be screwed in somewhere ... YOU figure the analogy out! ... and no, Desi, it's not about sex}: So, I will have him call you. He's a really great guy.

VC: Then why aren't YOU with him, Leo?

L: He's too much for me.

VC: What does that mean?

{repeat times 3 as I get nowhere trying to figure out what Leopold means by that and he doesn't tell me, then finally...}

L: He was too much for me sexually.

{DEAD SILENCE. My shock is best demonstrated by fastforwarding to a call I made later to the friend whose auction I met Leopold at, who responded to my relaying of the conversation with: "HE SAID HE WAS TOO MUCH FOR HIM SEXUALLY? LEOPOLD, THE BLACK HOLE OF HUMAN SEXUALITY FROM WHICH NOT EVEN LIGHT CAN ESCAPE?" So you can see that most people who know Leopold would find the statement extremely shocking}

VC *stammering*: Um, well. Um. You know I'm not so into hookups.

{fastforward through Leo then making the "and he's a really good friend to" approach, which eventually won, and I agreed to have my number passed on}

Mr. Sexual BMW called when I was washing my face, and I jokingly told him that I couldn't pick up when he called originally because I was washing my face, but don't tell Leopold otherwise I won't be invited to the ball. Mr. SBMW *got the joke* with little explanation, and was really nice on the phone. Unfortunately (and predictably) he was not really my type -- meaning: he made reference to the sheep he's slaughtering in the AM as part of the three day Muslim feast which begins tomorrow (which is why you have CNN obsessing over every step of hajj)...maybe I'm weird, but when someone says: "I'd love to see you tomorrow, but I have to slaughter a sheep for my wife," it kinda ruins it...BMW or not!

So the sheep will be slaughtered for the beginning of 3id (remember when I taught you about that letter earlier in the blog? "3ayn"?), and I've already gone downstairs to the bowaab to make it VERY clear to him that I don't want anyone in the building wandering up to the expansive roof (where my little cottage is) to slaughter their sheep. I was in Europe last year when they did this (I think?), but I've heard that there is literally blood on the streets, here. I guess when you have 16 story buildings with 70 families and EVERY ONE slaughters a sheep (since unfortunately, in a neighbourhood like this, everyone can afford to), it can't ALL be done discretely in the stairwell of the flat (where my old roommate told me they'd done it in our building the year before).

OH MY GOD I ALMOST FORGOT TO EXPLAIN THE TITLE OF THE BLOG!

It's what Mr. SBMW said to me when he said goodbye, which is to basically say "bye" in Egyptian slang, global Italian, and English. Middle class (since we're using the term lol) Egyptians usually say "yalla bye," which always throws me off, because "yalla" is also like "let's go" like "come on," so I always feel like they are asking me to go somewhere and then hanging up. "Yalla" really means, kind of: "Keep the momentum of whatever we were talking about and executing it" so it can mean "continue with our discussion of leaving and actually GO somewhere" or: "continue with the winding down of the conversation and say goodbye." The "bye" is also more of a deep, "mbye" (the mmm is actually almost hummed at the beginning) and I'm starting to say it this way by accident! I thought that "yalla, ciao, bye!" was just excessive, though. Who knows if he's too much sexually, but his adieus are certainly way overboard.

VC

PS: I can hear sheep "baa"-ing from my flat :( Tomorrow will be awful.

Fighting With Bin Laden

Well it’s just after 5AM and I’m returning from my first night out in Cairo (other than to dinner) since returning from Afghanistan more than four months ago. It is Christmas Eve for Egypt’s Coptic Christians, and after spending the day touring the pyramids with my closest remaining friend in Cairo’s two Turkish guests, I was awakened (sleeping in my friend’s flat I was so exhausted) by a call from my Coptic friend (American-raised and Stanford-educated, here for a year to apply to law school and learn Arabic – sound familiar?), who we’ll call Lord of the Dance (because I like to tease him about a post-modernist “fixed location dance performance” he did as a commentary on vertical mobility amongst immigrants in California while part of a Stanford dance team), or LoTD, telling me that he was lonely on Christmas Eve, away from family etc., and had made MIDNIGHT reservations (to break their fast – Copts spend the MAJORITY of the year fasting, although their fast sort of just means “eat vegan”) at an Egyptian restaurant in Zamalek, and invited another Coptic friend of ours as well as an American guy who is SCANDALOUSLY slutty and basically fluent in Arabic (ie: my total opposite).

I’ll fastforward through the dinner except to say that the slutty American kept making eye contact with the Gulfis at the table next to us and actually TOOK OFF HIS SHIRT to reveal his tank top underneath, which prompted one of them men to say in Arabic an expression akin to: “I adore God but I worship the devil,” or something that basically means “God help me in this moment to resist temptation.” LoTD has been wanting to go out, go dancing, explore explore explore (and gossip gossip gossip) – which I find quite boring and actually extremely depressing, and it’s such a reminder to me of how much happier I have been the past 5 months NOT going out. Anyway, we compromised on going to the Hard Rock Café, because it’s not AS high pressure as Latex (our one REAL nightclub), there are a lot of “khalijiis” (Gulfis), and LoTD has been itching to try one, and neither he nor the slutty American had been. The Copt dropped us off at Hard Rock (which, to continue with my theme, is at the Grand Hyatt lol), and we paid out 150LE cover fee (which you use towards drinks which are basically 50LE each), and moved on. The music is a weird mix of hip-hop club remixes (decent) and belly-dancing music (bad) and the scene is one that deserves more commentary than I’ll devote to it, here.

The club consists of two main groups and two lesser groups. The two main groups are young Gulfi men looking for, well, anything, and the second group (in a MUCH smaller proportion to the first) are prostitutes willing to give them just that. It’s really awkward, because you need to picture women TOTALLY done up to look “cute,” false eye lashes, bedazzled belts, bags, and nails, and lip liner galore, all floating around trying to look like the picture of glamour and NOT like trash. It’s kind of sad and awkward. The guys either give off cruisy heterosexual prostitute-seeking vibes, or obviously homoSOCIAL inward-looking vibes, but in any case the scene is very weird. The two smaller groups are the few non-Gulfi tourists who come, and the few Cairene residents (Egyptian and expat) who are there. I’d say that tonight, though, well over 65% were Gulfi men.

I should preface this by saying that I had heard that the Bin Ladens owned all the Hard Rock cafes in the Middle East, because a friend from AUC told me, last spring, that she once witnessed an American student wearing an “I hate Bin Laden” t-shirt at the Café in Cairo asked by the Bin Laden entourage to remove his shirt (they were apparently polite) and offered a free Hard Rock shirt in return. I was always a bit skeptical, and never really cared either way (the few times Desi and I went to Hard Rock it was a total disappointment). I can now confirm: the Bin Ladens own the Hard Rock and they are very much there.

One of the bouncers kept politely reminding me and LoTD to not stand on the steps leading from the dance floor/walkway to the upper bar level (just two little steps), and I assumed it was because we were blocking a passageway, so when I caught myself or LoTD or our other friend standing near it, I’d jokingly pull them back and sort of smile at the bouncer. WELL, just after 4AM, when it had again happened (me pulling LoTD away from the stairs that he had unconsciously floated too near to) and this time a man in plain clothes started pushing LoTD away, and we were almost ON a table away from the stairs and thus not in anyone’s path, the fight began. The bouncer and especially the plainclothes guard began to get very aggressive with LoTD, and I was trying to say (in a thumping club to people who spoke almost no English) that we weren’t anywhere near the stairs and I didn’t see the problem. It then became clear, when a thuggish guy sitting next to his friend, got up and ALSO started yelling (after having short discussions in whisper to both security guys who would then return to their spat with us) that this was NOT about the stairs, but was about these two guys’ table. I was still puzzled, though, because we were not blocking their view. I then though (as ended up being the case, but I still think it’s a weak argument on their part) that maybe we were too close to the women at the table next to them (with the table we were standing at being BETWEEN the men and the women), but we were clearly not talking to the women (and were CERTAINLY not interested in them) and were also not blocking their view. Finally LoTD’s fight with the security guys has escalated to such a degree (in part because he raised his voice an octave and was screaming in a banshee headvoice) that he was being forcibly removed from the club.

A manager came over to me to take me aside, as the two men form the table got up to explain to me what was happening (one of them still clearly angry and thuggish), as I insisted that we were not blocking anyone or anything, and I didn’t understand what was so special at that table and why we were not equal to those men. The manager took me across the room to the side of the bar and was trying to explain to me that everyone is equal, that it was just a matter of blocking the tables, etc. (which were all bullshit and which angered me more), and so I physically drug him by the hand outside, while condemning him for letting someone touch LoTD so roughly, until we were outside the club in front of all the people trying to enter, the cashier, etc.

To rewind: when I was checking out who, in the room, was using their Bluetooth communication program on their mobiles, I came across the ID “No.70AmrBinLaden,” and tried unsuccessfully to message him (people don’t normally accept Bluetooth files from people they don’t know), so I figured that what I’d heard about the ownership of the club was true, and that he was there. When the manager took me outside, I finally told him that I didn’t want him to bullshit me, that it was clear that that table was special, and that I wanted to know why. He told me that the man in the blue (the non-thuggish one) was the owner. I wasn’t impressed. I told him that I don’t care who the owner is, everyone should be treated equally, certain standards of decency have to be met, it was improper to rough-up my friend when we weren’t doing anything wrong, and it is also inappropriate for someone in plainclothes with no ID to be speaking to us as an employee/representative of the club, let alone touching us. I added that “I know he’s not the owner. The owner is Amr Bin Laden” (taking a risk). His reply: “He is the owner and he is Amr Bin Laden.” I then played it cool by immediately saying that I didn’t care who he was, it’s HIS obligation as an employee of the club to protect paying customers, and he or Amr can give us our money back. I also sort of pushed him on his deference to the owner’s authority, asking: “Do you call him pasha? No? Do you call him Bey? No? Why? Because we are all equal, then why are you worried about your job and impressing him.” I told him that I didn’t care about his job, that I don’t care who owns the place, and that I do care about what happens to my friend, there.

Enter Bin Laden. Bin Laden comes with the plainclothes guard, his thuggish friend, and another Hard Rock employee, and while LoTD continues to scream at everyone, I take the “this is so shocking and uncivilized approach” with Bin Laden. Our exchange was really humorous and I have to say that I was sort of funny and self-possessed. I told him that his thuggish friend was speaking in a really uncivilized way, that no one should be touching LoTD that way, and that I was disappointed that he was running an establishment with these hierarchies of privilege. He apologized, had his friend calm down, asked us how much we paid (300) and told them to give us back double the money. He tried to explain the nature of Saudi men (I told him that I knew it well and loved Saudis lol), and also explained that “the women don’t like to dance too much, they just like to watch,” and so us being there, close to them, and potentially in their way, was a problem. I explained to him that he only needed to have one person ask us politely in once sentence: “We would be more comfortable if you were not so close to these ladies. Could you please move?” and we’d have immediately been fine. He was dripping with the hugest gold and diamond-encrusted Bulgari necklace, chest hair fully exposed, and at one point I jokingly unfolded his shirt collar, which had tucked under itself, to cover more his hair (he thanked me lol). I also interrupted him once, when I recognized one of his rings (plain silver) from last season’s Bulgari collection, and also had some fun with him when he tried to tell me that none of his guards could tell me politely what was happening, because they didn’t speak English – I told him that he has the money to hire a bodyguard who speaks 10 languages, and he could even hire LoTD who speaks Enlgish and Arabic both lol. He told me that the guards had been putting up with Egyptian troublemakers (most people in the club being bad, he said) since 10PM – 4 hours before we arrived – and treated us the same way. I told him that they should work form the presumption that customers are good, and not that they are bad. He understood. He was trying to get us back inside, and I told him (in Arabic, but only this was in Arabic) that after this it was Latex and forever after Latex – Hard Rock is done. He asked why, and reiterated that he apologized, and I told him that he knew why I wasn’t interested in coming back. I jokingly asked him: “So are your bodyguards beating up our other friend inside, too, or is he still ok?” and Bin Laden laughed. I also told him, in relation to the point that most patrons are bad, that MOST patrons are prostitutes, and he doesn’t seem to mind that, and that we are not the ones he need to worry about. He welcomed us back again, and I added: “If your guards upstairs institute a couples only policy preventing men without women from getting in, then we can’t see you again here” (a police that is more biased against Egyptian males), and asked if that was another of his decent policies, and he told me no that that’s Egyptian local police who make and enforce that rule themselves. Our last funny exchange came when we re-entered the club to retrieve our friend, and two prostitutes came up to him and shook his hand, and I gave him the knowing/powerful “tisk tisk” with my finger, he said to me jokingly “now I have to wash my hands,” and so I gave him a friendly handshake and we left (not asking for the refund).

6AM and I now can’t keep my eyes open, but I’ve been getting so many blog requests that here you go!

XO

VC

Only This Moment

From my new Royksopp CD that I finally bought today as a reward for finishing my work, yesterday. I'll blog more about the sprint to the finish later this week when I'm alone during some formerly-central-to-my-life global holiday, but right now I'll just leave you with these words, which have a lot of meaning to me for different reasons. The usual caveat that I at times feel like the speaker of the lyrics and at times feel like the audience applies -- oh, and there is an important change to the chorus at the end, so you have to pay attention!:

Only this moment holds us together
Close to perfection
Nothing else out there
No one to guide us
Lost in our senses
Deep down inside I know our love will die

Only this moment holds us together
Lost in confusion
Feelings are out there
Scared of devotion
Doubting intentions
Deep down inside I know our love will die

Stay or forever go
Play or you’ll never know what heaven decided
You can’t deny it’s all you’ve been waiting for

Stay or forever go
Play or you’ll never know
Your spirit’s divided
You will decide if I’m all you've been waiting for

Clouds in my head have been parted with grace
By the force of an angel revealing her face
And her words do make sense, and I do understand:
Falling in love isn’t part of a plan

Forces within me mix reason with lust
But I try to accept it and not make it worse
'Cause I know I might lose it by taking a chance
But love without pain isn’t really romance

Only this moment holds us together
Close to perfection
Nothing else out there
Always beside her
Trusting my senses
Deep down inside I know love will survive

Only this moment holds us together
Close to the other
Nothing else out there
Always beside her
Trusting my senses
Deep down inside I know love will survive

********

VC

Most Rollercoastar Day Ever

Ended with a fight with the 34th son of the Prophet Mohammed (PBU them BOTH), and me leaving my mobile in a taxi.

I could just goudge my own eyes out right now, but the Oedipus thing is SO played out (as I remember Pookie and I once seeing, over the course of a month or so THREE plays/vocal performances/dance performances that explicitly referenced it).

Ok so now I don't have Syria and I don't have a mobile, and I really don't know what to do. Splurging on a vacation AND a new mobile feels obscene, but I loved that mobile, and I already spent $100 more for accessories.

Maybe the cliffs of Dover would be less trite?

VC

More Hating on AUC

I don't think a Registrar's office should even be ALLOWED to refuse to offer transcripts. And this is great (forgot to mention it), if you want a transcript within one day, it costs US$15, but if you are willing to wait five days, then it's only like $8 or something. Can you believe that? $8 for a single transcript? At Columbia there were free (and unlimited).

So here's where the Registrar's office is just so full of crap (and VERY typically AUC -- this is SO SO SO TYPICAL): If you order a transcript now, AND pay for the one-day express service, then you will get it on January 2 (keep in mind the office is NOT closed...it just isn't offering transcripts). If pay the "wait 5 days" rate, then you get it on 8 January.

CAN YOU BELIEVE that they are insisting upon an express v. regular service price AND time difference, when BOTH are taking way longer than the normal 5 day period? Wouldn't it be more appropriate to let everyone pay the 5 day rate and then APOLOGIZE for not getting it to them until the 2nd (let alone the 8th)??

I hate AUC.

Here is the email I just got from Columbia after I begged them to read my application without waiting for AUC:

Dear Chunk,

Thank you for your continued interest in Columbia Law School. [they always say that]

Unfortunately, we cannot review your file until it is complete. As therequirement for foreign transcripts is one that we insist upon for all ofour prospective students, we would not consider it fair to make anexception in this case. You are also very well ahead of the February 15thdeadline, so completing your application in January should not influenceyour candidacy to any significant degree.

We look forward to receiving your Dean's Certification.

Best regards,

Columbia Law School

So -- as we say in Egypt (even though I still don't really understand what it means): "ma3lesh" ("3" stands for a letter in Arabic that, standing alone, looks like a backward 3, is written in Roman script with an apostrophe in the shape of a superscript 'c,' and sounds like...well...I can't describe it, but if you know the German work "Ein," (like "Einstein") and then sort of constrict your throat and grunt (think pushing a baby out or being extremely constipated) on the "E" part, and you will have it -- I have a GREAT `ayn (or "3ayn"), which is what makes me superior to most Americans ;p -- you can click here to hear a recording of the sound, but I have to say it's kinda weak...we need a strong Gulfi `ayn, not some wimpy one that sounds more like German than Arabic). That was one big parenthetical! Anyway, ma3lesh basically means like "whatever"/"what can one do?"/"regrettably, no" and represents a passive acceptance of material circumstance that I find extremely frustrating (because it's like, once you "let go" and utter the words "ma3lesh" then you -- you meaning the waiter you are talking to, or the bureaucratic behind his desk -- are basically saying "I ain't gone do nuthin'").

VC

More Bureaucracy

Forgot to mention in my post, below, that I called the Syrian embassy and my visa was rejected...really don't know what I'll do, now, for Christmas/New Year. :*(

WOW I was tired when I did my last post. I kept falling asleep and waking up while I was typing, lol. Just woke up from almost 5 hours of nap, and need to make a plan to get this LAST paper squeezed out. It will involve a lot of text explication, and I always find these analysis papers (like in art history) much less torturous to write -- you develop your theoretical framework and you apply it to something...it's a pretty easy process -- but it's STILL a paper, which means it is torture in some way. Right now it's almost 7PM, and I'd like to have one of the three sections (I'm analyzing the banning of three texts) written before I got to bed, and hopefully pump one out in the AM, leaving myself with only one left for tomorrow evening (aka: NOT another 30 hours wherein 20 are a straight chunk of typing in different places in Cairo -- yesterday was AUC library, Grand Hyatt food court, then my house, assisted with two rather yummy MacDonald's cappuccinos!).

Still pissed at AUC that it is so twisted. The AUC press should publish a manual: how to get your students to NOT give back as alumns and trash-talk you when you go back home to the exact US universities from which they wish they had more students.

Unfortunately, despite any effort I could make to discourage students from coming here, there will ALWAYS be the government job seekers who salivate at the thought of their State Department/CIA files getting a boost from Arabic and living in the region.

Gotta eat!

VC

Bureaucratic Update

Given that humans are generally prone to mood swings when sleep-deprived, that this is a really stressful time, and that I genuinely have had a lot of sh*t to deal with today, I think that I'm handling everything with amazing balance. In fact, I think that maybe me having been awake now for more than 30 hours without rest has made me just SO tired that I can't be bothered by things like the AUC mess that was today.

If you happen to be a corporate litigator with whom I am totally smitten (you know who you are and so does everyone else), and you don't have a lot of time to read my rambling blog, today, then skip to point 3 below. It's the most important and confusing in terms of my life.

But let's start at the top. The good, the bad, the inbetween. It's all about VC's struggle within the bureaucratic matrix that describes his current life (read: academia).

Let's start with classes: Turned in my importing democracy paper (hence me being up for 30 hours), and it was on time, and I already have an A in the class (she posted it like an hour after I handed the paper in). I really REALLY like the professor, and feel good about that class. The ONLY thing I have left, then, in terms of coursework at AUC is the completion of a paper from a spring course in which I took an incomplete. Enter the stress: there is no policy published about when to submit these things, so I'm submitting mine on the 22nd (the last day of finals), however for all I know there's a very real chance that I missed some unpublished deadline and will fail (with all the repercussions for update law school transcript requests, my thinking I'd finished my coursework but being wrong, etc. that come with failing). Will work to finish it the next two days and just wait and pray.

On to law school aps: So Stanford has this AWFUL system where you have to physically mail the a check AND a Dean's Certification, so my ap there is not complete, and Columbia has the most ridiculous Dean's Certification. Keep in mind that I went to Columbia, AND Columbia, as a college that send Certs to OTHER schools for it's own alums applying to law school REFUSES to use the forms of other schools (and instead sends out their own standard "Chunk's GPA is X and he was always in good academic standing with no disciplinary measures" form letter) -- Columbia law school's Dean's Cert that it asks other schools to fill out is INSANE. All these grids and boxes and the request of a "summary letter" describing the student! I got the professor from the class I just handed the paper in for, who is an Assistant Dean, to fill them out for me, and I FedExed them today (a good experience, my first time at AUCs FedEx, where we get corporate rates and only pay 25% of what I was paying down the street at the real office!). The thing with Columbia, and I know this because I emailed and called them, is that even though Harvard, Yale, and NYU all OBVIOUSLY accepted the informal transcript that I sent (it's only grad school! most people don't even go at all!), Columbia wants one FROM AUC.

Enter AUC bureaucracy: The Registrar *refuses* to hand-out transcripts until after the start of January, since right now grades are being input into the system. SO, if Columbia (and maybe even Stanford) won't consider me complete until I get a transcript from AUC, which will be after the first week of January, then I'm basically screwed, because NO ONE gets in to those places that late in the admissions cycle. So -- yeah. I emailed Columbia and explained to them that the Dean's Cert confirms my GPA, that other schools didn't require an official AUC transcript, etc. and let's see what they say.

AUC cont'd

Had my comprehensive exams moved to next semester, although they kept them on my transcript with a "withdraw" next to it (question: why is it not the goal of the Registrar to present the student in the best light possible while still being truthful to the situation -- I NEVER TOOK COMPS, what is the POINT of having it there??).

AUC cont'd

While at the Registrar, I checked on the winter Arabic courses, and of course no one knew how/when I needed to actually register, and no one knew about whether or not my fellowship applied. I sought advice form the magical woman do takes care of EVERYTHING for grad students if you actually use her, and this is what happened:

1. The winer arabic course is not for regular students but for visitors, and costs $2200 for one month, not covered by my fellowship, and includes things I don't need like city tours and a dorm room with a roomate, etc.

2. I can apply for (and just got, apparently) an Arabic Language Fellowship, which covers 1/2 the cost of tuition, and they were generous enough to count it based on credit points for the course (removing all the housing and other crap) which is $535 (or something) per point X 3 points - 50% (fellowship), so I pay like $850...which is a lot less than it would have cost to go home for winter. Fine.

3. While I'm there talking about my Arabic problem, the cat is out of the bag that I finished my required courses, and *GET THIS* my fellowship is therefore over. Not only am I not permitted to take any courses next semester, BUT even registering for my comprehensive exams, which are 0 points if you take them with other courses but 1.0 point if you take them as a stand alone course, I will have to pay for. So basically I finished all my courses early and got punished by HAVING to pay AUC to let me stay for the fourth semester in which I could have been slowly finishing my coursework.

I am NOT paying AUC to stay here an extra semester. There is NO way I will do that. I mean -- like not even when hell freezes over AND pigs fly would I do that. I'd just as soon go back to the US ASAP (if there's not AUC reason left for me to be here), study Arabic there, and try to take my comps in AUC's New York office.

This is my new plan: the reason that I'm graduating early is that I got certain courses this term to substitute for ones next term that I officially need to graduate. What I decided to PRETEND to do is just not have the ones I took this semester substitute, register for the theoretically-required courses that I would then "need" next semester, like I'm not ready to graduate (and my fellowship is still therefore on), and register for Arabic (which we can do for free on top of a full couseload, but not standing alone -- great logic, right?). Then, once the bill is paid by my fellowship, I'll drop everything but the Arabic and have the last laugh. They can seriously kiss it if they think that i will pay them a penny more than what I'm paying for the winter course (which is already insanely expensive -- $850 in Egypt goes an EXTREMELY X 10 long way).

So -- law school aps in the air, might fail a class from spring, might drop out of AUC. On the equally-likely side: law aps will be fine, the paper I'll turn in on the 22nd will be accepted, and my master plan for registration for next term will go off without a hitch.

Wanna place bets?

:) MUST SLEEEEEEEP

VC

Still Peppy, But Realistic Too

Ok well it's nearing 3:30AM and I need to make an edit to my schedule, below.

I think I need to re-prioritize, given how long it's been taking me to put my argument together, and shift my efforts to doing the reading/short reaction paper that is DEFINITELY due at 4PM, now, and also work on the materials I'll be presenting at the Fellow's meeting. Then, with all that done, I can ONLY work on the long paper during the day (free of all other errands and commitments).

The long paper (in my independent study with the Assistant Dean) is due because I set the due-date for myself: [imagine this in black and white, since it happened a week ago]

Dean: "About your paper, I'll be leaving on the 22nd, so if you can try to get it to be, you know..."

[VC interrupts]

VC: "Oh I'll give it to you at our next meeting on the 18th."

[Dean, surprised, delighted]

Dean: "Oh, ok. Great. Looking forward to it."

SO, yeah, it's not great if I need one more day, but at least it will be MOSTLY done by the time I meet with her in 12 hours and 35 minutes. I also think that when I email her my reaction paper in anticipation of our meeting, like way in advance (at, say, 6AM), than she'll know that I'm taking things seriously.

Guess it's clear that the 4AM - 8AM sleep thing is getting cut-out, but I can rest when I get back from class for 3 hours and be good as new.

While we're being peppy but realistic :) who am I kidding? I'm totally more rippley than chunky ;p

VC

Post-Doctah Peptalk

Just got off the phone with Dr. Juicy and I am inspired (after being inspired by her to inspire myself -- meaning: she always puts me in a positive and driven place) to make my FINAL breakneck plan for the semester. I have a paper due tomorrow, as well as a meeting, another short assignment, and several administrative things to take care of, and then after that I have 4 days (sounds like eternity) to finish my LAST PAPER FOR MY MA. *VC cheers*

I have been dreading working on this, because I hate writing SO SO SO SO SO much (I'd rather run 10 miles, fast, and have to eat soggy cold spinach after each mile -- THAT'S how much I hate writing papers), but this is ridiculous: I'm a capable writer, I will do the best I can, I will not use comma-splices like I am in this sentence (these commas should be semi-colons), and this is my final academic push before a semester of intellectual indulgence next semester: Arabic study, TA-ing for my favourite prof, and work on a cool Moot Court project that will take me to DC. Finishing this paper and staying motivated means proactively getting one step closer to FINISHING my time in Cairo, returning to NYC, snuggling with my Pookie on the couch, lunching and shopping more than is responsible with the Dr., having my favourite popcorn with Curie and walking for hours, and, most importantly, returning HOME to a place where I can talk to my mom every day again on the phone.

Six minutes until midnight and writing begins (tonight we're writing about importing democracy in Afghanistan and Iraq...it started out as an analysis of Afghan election posters, but I expanded it. I'm making the argument that what starts out as the cosmopolitanization of democracy -- the global sharing of a seemingly-agreed upon value set -- when "imported" through belligerent occupation -- turns cosmopolitanization into cannibalism, evidenced by what it is that these countries who have imported democracy find themselves exporting: narcotics, torture, restricted identity categories along gender and tribal lines, etc.).

That was one long parenthetical lol.

SO: Last schedule of my LIFE at AUC (shouldn’t need these next term) à

Midnight - 4AM = Work on paper

4AM - 6AM = Sleep

6AM - 10AM = Work on paper

10AM - 11AM = Go to school and get settled (email, etc.)

11AM - 12PM = Finish paper work

12PM - 12:45PM = Prepare for fellows meeting (questionnaire, honours update, conferences update)

12:45PM - 2:30PM = Prepare for Dean meeting (reaction paper, long paper)

2:30PM - 3:30PM = Fellows meeting

4:00PM = Dean's meeting (check on Moot Court, Certs, and honours proposal)

Off to work. Motivation, productivity, and happiness to all my readers :)

XO

VC

In at NYU!

...and sending out Stanford. The Pook is thinking about leaving NYC, so I figured why not open up some geographical options (when you are strong-arming someone into a long-term relationship, I think the best strategy is flexibility lol), and I also think it will be a good ego regulator to receive more rejection letters than acceptance letters, and adding a near-certain rejection from Stanford (which is about twice as hard to get into as Harvard) will help me do that :)

VC

Cairo Photo Tour: Experiments With Food

I mentioned a few days ago (unless I only emailed people about it and never blogged?) that I tried cooking, and ended up having to throw away two plates after unsuccessfully trying to heat up pizza and cinnaparts (you should check the link out -- Pizza Hut KSA...gotta love the image of the camels crossing the desert to get some Spaghetti Bolognaise!). Well I've FINALLY loaded the software for my unbelievably gorgeous and "ever-so stylish" mobile, and so I was able to download some of the photos that I've been taking on my mobile (because I'm too lazy to PLUG IN my ridiculously nice camera so that its battery can charge), and one of them is on the couch in my living room with the cinnaparts heated up. I think it's also worth mentioning that the plate, which came with the apartment, is the same flatware (flatware is plates and not silverware, right?) that we had at my guesthouse in Afghanistan, which I found odd and a bit disturbing (thinking I'd escaped Cairo only to find out that it had followed me to Central Asia).

I am also attaching a photo of the "chocolate souffle" (if you tasted it then you'd know that it needs to be in quotes) that I ordered from Tabasco, last night -- a restaurant that is kind of the AUC student/Zamalek spoiled youth hangout, but we also have two here in Doqqi, one which *gap* serves alcohol. I won't get into the horrible (HORRIBLE) fight I got into with the restaurant, because that will distract you from the actual point of the photo, which is the odd cream sauce that they gave me {prepare for slightly philosophical discussion of "the normal"}

They were thoughtful enough (I am shocked) to actually give me a ton of powdered sugar and sauce to put on the souffle, as well as extra red sauce for my ravioli, etc. Here's the problem: I'm not sure (even after eating it) what the sauce was, and I'm not even sure if it was meant for the souffle.

As you can see in the photo, the sauce was a kind of yellow/white/GREENISH liquid that was mostly watery but with some moments of thickness (almost like a watery custard). When I *saw* it I thought: vanilla sauce. When I tasted it, though, it was basically just egg. Then I thought maybe they gave me extra souffle batter in case I wanted to cook my own (combining my cluelessness about cooking with the total unpredictability of ALL service industry logic in Cairo means ANYTHING could have been happening, in my mind), but then I realized that I'm not even sure if you use eggs in souffle, and even so, you'd need chocolate -- I felt stupid for thinking that it might be souffle batter when I realized that, duh, cooking what they gave me would have just made, like, scrambled eggs. Then I thought maybe it was white sauce for my pasta (I chose red over white, but maybe they wanted me to have options), or just a lot of creamy melted butter.

Here is the problem: I totally liked the sauce. I mean, the souffle needed some kind of peristalsis-promoting lubricant, and the sauce had this proteinaceous (admittedly: suspiciously so, although I won't make any comments more provocative than that -- you can see the photo for yourself) , SLIGHTLY sweet taste, and I liked it. I even *Chunk blushes* DRANK it out of the cup while I was eating. What made me so uneasy, though, was that, despite enjoying the taste, I was really hung-up on what was proper, and what I SHOULD be eating it with. Was I downing cream sauce made for my ravioli and pouring it on my souffle? I hate butter, but was I chugging creamy butter? That I was so gastronomically disoriented (and that I realized how much I *cared*, in the privacy of my own home, whether or not it was PROPER for me to be eating it or not) was really off-putting! :(

Things to look out for in the photos other than the food:

* In the cinnaparts photo, notice the freakish mini pillows that decorate my house (not my choice). EVERYONE makes fun of the midget pillows. I sort of like them.

* In the souffle photo, notice what is the EPITOME of "Louis Farouk" Egyptian interior decorating: the marble table atop the spray-painted gold wood. It's the quintessence of the Egyptian bourgeoisie!

Anyway, enjoy the photos. I will post more in a bit about pollution, here :)

VC

Cock-a-Doodle-Doo!

It's 8AM.

Bring it :)

VC