Archive for August, 2005

Random Livejournal Questions

What is jfeng allergic to?
insipidity and kittens
If you had the chance to sleep with get_brett, would you?
that would be so many different kinds of fucked up that even I wouldn’t do it
Is madmaddy123 best described as a badger, a mushroom, or a snake?
a mushroom: a funky mind-altering psychedelic mushroom
What is the strangest thing tnbaroof has ever said to you?
“let me borrow your dildo” (and he never brought it back)
Would titivillus look better not wearing pants, or not wearing a shirt?
pants, definitely pants. it’s like a goddamned baby’s arm
What do you find admirable about ratjin?
his whimsy (and his ass)
Does molly_in_africa spend too much time on LiveJournal?
that would be a decided no
Could you take cazinmauritania in a fight?
give her a can of mace and a tazer and I’d still mop the floor with her. I’ve whooped her before and I’ll do it again if need be
What kind of person would you set up with calebjudy?
someone nice and pretty and sweet. he deserves a nice girl to make him a coffee and keep him sassified
What do you think of cailinakafatou‘s family?
very nice folks. given that I can’t distinguish between Sonike and Hebrew, I personally couldn’t talk to them, but as I said, nice folks quand méme

This is by heptadecagram. Get your own completely random questions.

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Still healing mentally from Lewis and Will’s last great adventure. For better or worse, life doesn’t slow down. I’ve been teaching some English as the University is still closed down. Also we’re trying to get where exactly the new trainees are going to be placed and so I’ve been hunting down people trying to give a final recommendation for continuing work with the academy or not.

During site visits we spent most of the time wandering about with Carl looking at his projects. I didn’t have much to show other than getting someone posted to ISET which I picked out.

The last night was supposed to be party night, but no one wanted to go out so I jumped ship and headed to Kaédi early. It took over four hours to make it out of town and I didn’t arrive until around 22h. Within half an hour though I was covered from head to toe with a quarter inch of mud and had begun my reign as mud wrestling champion of Mauritania. The title bout was myself against the whole of the Gorgol region (well, the female bits of it, I’m pretty sure Jae and I would have injured one another). I, in an impressive but not surprising show of guile and fortitude prevailed once again.

The one major issue with Kaédi’s mud wrestling pit is the gravel which covers the bottom. Imagine crawling around on your hands and knees in gravel. Now imagine someone jumping on your back and punching you in the head as you’re crawling around in gravel. This images should help you understand why all of the contestants emerged from the competition with lacerated knees, backs, wrists and elbows.

I spent a couple days hanging out with the trainees and did a couple sessions on various and sundry things. The new group has some pretty cool folks in it. I hate that I’m not really going to be around to get to know them better.

Last night I got to hang out with some people I’d not seen for a while and we got a bit hammered. One fellow dressed up like Ponchus Pilate and let us set him on fire. That was fun.

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I know it is petty and small to call names in response to traumatic experiences, but I’m pretty ok with that at this point. I’ve decided that for whatever reason I cannot understand anyone else to any appreciable extent. Not sure what to do about that, but in the interim I’m just gonna be jaded and nasty. People don’t like me? Fuck ’em. I don’t like them either. I’d like to dedicate this song to all women everywhere…

Caroline’s Spine — Psycho

busy, busy, I’m so busy, I’ve got no time for you
sleazy, sleazy, you say I’m sleazy for all the things I put you through
angry, angry, now you’re angry; sick of all the games we’re playin’
sleepy, sleepy, I’m so sleepy; tired of all the things you’re sayin’
chorus: I’m so sorry, excuse me for livin’. I didn’t know, didn’t know you were a pyscho…
wasted, wasted, I get so wasted; sometimes I can’t even get up the stairs
stupid, stupid, you say I’m stupid for telling you not to be scared of me
frightened, frightened, now you’re frightened; you thought we were “oh so close”
while I’m dyin’, I’m dyin’, I’m slowly dyin’, ’cause you won’t leave me alone
salute me, greet me so glad to meet me then you say I’m such a mess
well, sue me, chew me, beebopaloo me thanks so much… now go get dressed
preach me, teach me, so glad you reached me before you found me, I was a waste
you found me, bound me, rolled all around me now you’re gone and I got faced…

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In a rarity, I’ve got a story to tell that I’m uncomfortable telling because it’s too revealing. There are times that life gets you down. Imagine if you got to a point where you stopped fighting and you tried to just go down. I wasn’t terribly good at it, but that’s along the lines of where I headed. This story I’ll ply only in trade. Email me a story that you think might make me see you in a different and darker light and I’ll give you mine.

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So, we’ve had a coup. Ould Taya is out and Ould Abdel Aziz is in. I want to write about it, by my writing is crap today, so I’ll give the news to you as most of it came to me: though a string of text messages from M.

Read the rest of this entry »

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Things are wrapping up for a lot of my friends here. Saturday we did a big beach party for my groups of volunteers that are getting ready to head out. That went really well. No especially good gossip material, but we kept the dance floor going all night long. adrianapublico in particular kept things going. She left at one point then came back and danced for a couple more hours until the closers all went for a sunrise swim followed by Café Touba, Kinkaliba and sandwiches down at the port.

I spent the next two days recuperating broken by a trip to the gym. When I was there I met a fellow who knelt down beside me while I was doing sit-ups and shook my hand. He looked at my face closely and said, “hi, my name is Ismiel, do you remember me?” I had no idea who he was. I looked at the fellow and he sparked no recognition whatsoever, so I told him, “no.” “Think carefully,” he said, “you sure you don’t remember?” I tried hard, but I assumed he was just some random guy I’d met at the University, so I tried that as a guess. “No,” he replied, “I was at the VIP with you.” “Ok,” I thought, “I’ve met him in the VIP. Cool.” So, I shook his hand and told him my name. “Yeah,” he says, “I was with you a week ago. You were really drunk. I saw you leave and then I left and I helped you.” “Shit,” I thought as I turned two shades of pink. Great, just great. “Thank you very much Ismiel, I appreciate what you did very much. You are very nice. Umm, I gotta go now.” Wherever you go, there you are; sometimes life just sees fit to remind you of that.

Last night was the last time I was going to see the British girls. I went over to their house and cazinmauritania made tcheub-u-jeen. It took a bit longer than expected, but round about 0H30 when we finally ate it was well worth the wait. Caz’s sister was in town and she made the mistake of mentioning to me that she’d been trying to go out, but had been unsuccessful in convincing her hostesses to take her out. I felt it was my moral obligation to fill out this poor girl’s Mauritania experience with a taste of the nightlife. She was resistant at first, but mine and Lewis’ combined efforts along with some momentum from Em got her out the door.

The VIP is an experience best had at least slightly fucked up, so we valiant four went off in search of some booze. I have a bottle of tequila I’ve been saving for an occasion and this seemed appropriate. Unfortunately, my recent move left it at Carl’s house. This is not a problem in and of itself except for the fact that it’s 2H30 and Carl is likely fast asleep. Barging into someone’s home at 3 in the morning is not a nice way to repay them for letting you store stuff there. So, instead we decide to break in and steal the alcohol without waking Carl.

Carl has a second floor veranda that is open and that, it turns out, Lewis can reach when standing on my shoulders. The one problem is there is a guard that sleeps by the door. So, we walk up and Em uses her broken Hassaniya and a variety of hand gestures to communicate, “we left our keys inside and have to climb in.” His response is, “Huh?” then, “the guy that lives there is sleeping.” We simply pulled the white card at that point and started to climb the wall. The guy looked at us, but other than watching us with a bemused look, didn’t do anything. Lewis made it up to the balcony alright, but as he poked his head over the banister Carl’s voice came in response, “don’t even think about it.”

Turns out that Carl was sleeping on the veranda. He didn’t come down to let us in so we decided to leave him lie. It was in this dejected and deplorably sober state that we rolled into the VIP. Things were going pretty well. It was Tupac‘s birthday, so the place was pretty well packed. For whatever reason the DJ thought playing Senegalese dance music would be a fitting tribute to ‘pac. Not even the Senegalese were dancing though. It was pretty sad.

I put down 3500um on a Heineken for Helen and a gin and tonic for myself. This reminded me of why I dropped more money in one night out with a girl in Paris than in the previous week. To be a good host though was well worth it. We gave the DJ two songs to stop sucking and we were going to head. After two crappy songs, I still wanted to go out for one dance, so we gave it the old college try. We lasted until a mediocre hip-hop set and didn’t leave until about 4H30 when I went back with the girls since I’m currently homeless.

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I have a variety of more important things to write about, but our coup has me stuck in the bureau and I’ve been wasting time on the internet all morning since I’m not supposed to go anywhere.

The SAT: Sex Aptitude Test really entertained me. I got a 17. Apparently, I’m a sex genius. ☺

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