Tuesday, March 21, 2006

gunblast vodka

This movie is playing in Morocco right now. It was made in like 2000 and stars 'real-life supermodel' Angie Everhart. But instead of talking about the film's content, let's talk about the poster lining all of Morocco's streets - there's soooo much to discuss:

- is she wearing a garland around her peroxide head?
- she runs around with two guns a la Bridget Fonda, which is fierce
- she runs around in trannie heels, which is even fiercer
- a latex teddy bear is her accessory - it goes so well with her fishnets and black Wet 'n Wild lipstick

This poster is hitting home for me right about now. Last week I finally realized why I only travel on first class trains in Morocco (other than getting more leg room and not having to smell body odor) - its because all of the really interesting people travel in first class. I wish I could've taken a picture of my last encounter because it would complement the Gunblast Vodka poster. A velour-jumpsuit-clad woman with blue/black hair and rap-around Ray-Bans rode in my carriage with her pock-marked and knife-scarred husband for a few hours. The entire time they sat with a thin, metal briefcase on their laps. You know the kind that people in movies like Gunblast Vodka carry large quantities of money in - for things like coke deals, rewards for killing a cheating husband, or payment for a container load of small Cambodian boys. Of course I developed all of these fantasies in my head about what the contents were and what they were for. Anything to keep my mind (and eyes) off of the large man across from me clawing at his crotch for hours on end.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

oh no you didn't

One hour ago I was walking back to my hotel from getting an hour long scrub down at the hammam. By a guy who was seriously trying to feel my nuts the entire time. And this dude rides by me on a moped and his undies were sticking out the back of his pants. What kind of undies you ask? A frilly, blue thong. I couldn't get out my camera quickly enough -- I did at least take off my sunglasses to confirm that I wasn't seeing things. They were indeed frilly, blue panties. Fierceness in Morocco lives on.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

a retrospective

I wonder why everyone thinks Middle Easterners are inherently violent. Maybe because they sell things like this for 10cents at football matches? Cairo hosted the Africa Cup this year. This is me modeling the latest in hooligan outerwear.

Sash-ay. Shont-ay.

This little piece of nonsense sat in the middle of the busy road outside my flat for at least 1 month. It's probably still there. Unfortunately, they won't open a water canon on it like they did the Sudanese lining the street. I love how they'll force out human life, but not this piece of junk.

This is a prime example of why I've gained so much weight in the last year. It's because I chomp on medieval sized lamb shanks all the time. (I'm holding it with my sleeve because the bone is THTH - too hot to handle). Grrrrrrra! Yeah, that's a beard I'm sporting. Yuck.

Me. Camel. The usual.

The Koreans never cease to amaze me with their fashion forwardness. This is an 06/07 Tyvex. It shields you from sun, wind, and flying debris from tornados, hurricanes, and monsoons. One can never be too careful when climbing Mt. Sinai.

She's definitely a sun, booze, and fags type of gal. I hope she put some sunscreen on her sensible zones because that shit is going to start sagging and stretching in like 10 minutes.

My photography skills do not do this piece of Karnak fashion justice. You know how short shorts wedge their way up obese people's inner thighs? Well, I swear I saw her tampon string hanging out the front as a result.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know this bitch is Russian. Hot pink lee-press-ons, a skin-tight black ensemble, the Virginia Slim, and bondage heels really complete the look for a day at Valley of the Kings. Valley of the Kings is an unpaved, extremely rocky valley out in the desert. It involves not only tripping over rocks to get into the tombs, but also many stairs and ramps. I'm sure the bottle of Butterscotch Schnappes in her Fendi fannypack killed any pain she may have experienced during the day's activities.

Alright. This photo was taken my last night in Luxor at my favorite restaurant in all of Egypt - The Oasis Cafe. It really was an oasis in the middle of tourist hell. Not only did they serve up delicious food, but they also served up this nutcase. I don't remember his name - we'll call him Christian. He had a thing for Siobhan, pictured here. Someone once said that 'Siobhan is like the sun' - she just makes you happy. I think Christian will be jacking off to Siobhan's mental image for many years to come.

I figured on my last day on our cruiseship, I'd wander up to the Captain's deck and try my hand at sailing the ship. That's me (looking obese) and the captain. In the background, there's a guy (who you can't see) that I later found out was giving passenger's on the cruiseship blowjobs. Okay, not really. But he was short and gross and he was propositioning the more handsome Australian youths we had on board. Unfortunately for him, he was unsuccessful. Doesn't he know that alcohol is the key to handsome Australian youths' hearts and not unbrushed teeth?

This was the saddest guy I encountered in Egypt. He followed my group and I around an ancient village in the Dakhla oasis because apparently we needed protection - and he was the man to offer us this protection? His circa 1840's gun is almost bigger than him.

Chilling in the Bahariya Oasis. Trying not to fall off the ledge.

Oh, Shea! Someone once asked me if I thought that Shea and I were separated at birth because we both talk like valley girls. But it was Mad Max at that crazy pub in Ipswich that really hit the nail on the head - "You both have the best teeth ever, you should really put them to use and make-out.'' Mad Max then went on to tell me that she lost 10 stone and really felt like fucking someone in the bathroom with her hot new bod.

Just an ocular showdown between the youth and I in Bahariya. Neither of us volunteered to pick up the refuse.

The inside of our safari dude's jeep. It was the gayest thing I've ever seen.

I don't think people understand how cold the desert gets in the winter. Cold enough for me to wear this silly camel hair hat that scratched my forehead so badly that I had a scab on it the next day.

Alright, pull up a chair because its going to be a while. On the left is Dee. She's pretty fierce. In the middle is this girl Carrie. Carrie was a tour leader in Egypt many moons ago and started dating one of the Egyptian TL's during her stint. She ended up going back to England for a little while and then came back during the middle of my contract in Egypt. The Egyptian TL (Emad) introduced her to me as his girlfriend and told me not ''to get any ideas.'' As if! On my second tour, Emad fucked one of my female passengers....and continued to have sex with many others before Carrie got back to Egypt. I was under the impression that this was one of those things the kids like to call an ''open relationship.'' But! It wasn't. Carrie was in the dark about all of this and really thought Emad was this lovely guy. Let it also be known that Emad is still married and has a child. His wife thinks they are happily in love.

On the right is Claire. I thought Claire was pretty fierce when I first met her, but she soon turned out to be one of those ''ho's before bro's'' types of girls. I found out that her boyfriend (yet another Egyptian tour leader - why oh why ladies do you get involved with these men) had cheated on her. Claire, having said that she'd want to know if 'her man' was cheating on her, got an earfull from me. I told her that he had indeed cheated on her. She confronted 'her man', a heated argument ensued, and the day after 'her man's' mother died. She had been on her deathbed for ages. Once his mom died, Claire sent me a slew of nasty text messages saying that she knows 'her man' and that he wouldn't do something like this to her. And that she thinks I timed my insider info poorly. I should've known his mom was going to die. So, what did I glean from this situation: Never tell your friend that 'her man' is a no good piece of shit.

Is it just me or do you think the donkey is saying to himself, "Will someone please kill me"?

On my way back from the States to Egypt, I had a 12 hour layover in Amsterdam. Not only did I get my haircut, visit Anne Frank's total let down of a house, cruise the Red Light District, and watch my very first film in one of those jack-off booths, but I also stopped at the Gay & Lesbian kiosk on the side of the road.

In Amsterdam, people really do ride bikes.