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Showing posts with label Totes Gross. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Totes Gross. Show all posts

Thoughts and Scribbles


I’ve decided to post a collection of the random thoughts and notes from inside my phone. Almost every day, I encounter things that are unusual so I’m going to let you in on some of the stupidy, craziness, and goofy things that are a part of my day-to-day life here. It’s all short, random, and unrelated. Enjoy.

#1 Uhhhh…wudd-ju just say?
 Sometimes, it’s really cute to hear Arabic-speakers try to pronounce English words. One thing I’ve noticed is that the “r” is very difficult for them to say. An example and test of this is the word “squirrel.” Almost 100% of the time when I ask people to say it, it comes out “squiddel.” Haha!  One time, a litltle Moroccan girl was trying to explain to me that she needed a ruler but she didn’t know the English word for it. After I figured out what she was trying to describe I said, “Ohhhh, ok. This is called a ‘ruler’.” She said, “Ah yes.  Looler.”  So stinkin’ cute. Another example: the other day my friend’s mom was jokingly mocking me and I was saying “this flower”…but when she said it, it came out “shit sour.” No harm intended but many laughs resulted!

Pearl the Squirrel, aka Piddel the Squiddel

#2 Priorities
So my friend just had a baby boy. In the house. No doctor, no medicine, no epidural, no after-birth vitals check-up, nothing. After a few hours, it was time for baby’s first meal. Breast milk, you ask? No, my friend. A bottle full of diluted Moroccan tea. I mean, what baby doesn’t want to start life off with a fresh cuppa? Skip the pump, ma—hand over the tea pot. And who wants to look like a raggedy newborn mess whilst sippin’? Not to worry, as grandma had already applied baby’s first coat of eyeliner and eyebrow liner.  So with guyliner and tea bottle in tow, that little guy had a pretty good first day of life.


#3 That’s the Pits!
 No matter where you go in the world, adolescent boys do the armpit fart.
 It’s just a fact of life.


Wonder if that baby's wearing eyeliner...

#4  Untitled …because I literally have no words to say about this.
I was brushing my teeth today and while I was doing so, a friend of mine came up to me and asked what I was doing. Personally, I thought it was obvious what I was doing but around here it may not be something everyone’s used to.  She looked at me and asked me why I was brushing my teeth. She thought it was funny that I brush my teeth every day and so I asked her how often she brushes hers. In all seriousness she replied, “About 2 or 3 years ago.”  No comment.

Eww. Gnarly teeth much?

#5  I’m a Rebel.
Jevver drink water out of a bowl instead of a glass? Well you should. I tried it the other day at 4 am and I gotta say it’s way more fun than using a cup. Just hold it with one hand like you’re at a cocktail party. It’s like you know you’re doing something wrong kinda…but there’s no one there to stop you. The same applies for eating chocolate brownie ice cream for breakfast. Just a thought.

#6  Why Didn’t’ YOU Think of That?
My next topic is the magic dustpan. You know how most people have a set of “kitchen scissors” for cutting food or whatever? Well guess what? Moroccans have their answer to the kitch sizz. It’s the kitchen dustpan, or as I like to call it, the “Yuck-Dumper.” Here in Morocco there’s usually a crowd eating together and the meals are followed by fruit for dessert—almost always apples, oranges, and bananas. Oh yeah—nobody here uses individual plates so there’s always some debris left afterwards. Think about it: when you use a wet sponge to wipe down the table after eating, what do you do?  You wipe all of the table gross-ness into your hand. Eww. Instead, why don’t you invest a buck in a “Y-D” and swoop all the mushy junk into that? Brilliant. BONUS: It can even hang in an inconspicuous spot. BONUS #2: It’s more fun if you give it a name…like Bob The Dustpan. Or maybe Doug. Or maybe Fiona Apple Core Scooper-Upper.

Totes Gross.


#7  Working Girl
So I got invited to a huge party today and I decided to go. I knew there would be a lot of people, I just didn’t know what to expect. Right now I’m writing this on my phone from an apartment and I just counted: There are 67 people here. It’s a one-bedroom apartment. It’s also about 117 degrees in here with a surplus of small toddlers. If you’ve read any of my other posts then you know how much Moroccans hate any kind of breeze, wind, or air. Today is no exception as I click away on my BlackBerry. Everyone is singing and rang-bang-boomin’ around on some tambourines so I stepped away for a quick breath of (almost) fresh air.  ---  For some reason, I always get roped into being the “Lead Makeup Artist” whenever there is any type of group gathering. It starts when one person politely asks if I will do her makeup and results in a line forming in a bedroom. There’s usually about 20 people in a room about 9’ x 9’ .  I just finished doing some makeup but this day, I stopped after one. I’m used to doing makeup in Hollywood—we’re talking cash money in large amounts (sometimes), craft services, and most importantly…AC!! Today the requests didn’t stop at makeup—they also included hijab tutorials, aka “how to wrap a head scarf.” I try to wear mine differently and the Moroccan women have taken notice. I’ve been at weddings where the girls ooh and ahhh and ask me how I do it. It’s kind of ironic to me that the American girl is giving lessons to life-long scarf-wearers! I don’t mind, though—just as long as it’s not an inferno where we are. Ha! With all the makeup apps, scarf wraps, and boom-baps, I actually had a really good time at the party.

#8  Extremely Hot Quote of the Day
“Take off the fur coat immediately or I’m gonna puke.”

#9  Let’s Keep it in the Gray Area
No extreme emotions are allowed here. Crying is frowned upon (pun intended) whether it be from something really sad happening or something really funny. Either way, you BETTER not have wet cheeks or there will be consequences.

#10  Daddy Don’t Like No Knuckle-heads
Fun is strictly prohibited when Dad is around. (…and I don’t mean MY Dad of course as he is the King of Hilarity and Goofiness) There will be no loud laughing, giggling, shrieking, and certainly no flailing limbs at any time. Pipe down or fear the repercussions. It’s almost as if every dad here is like a Moroccan Archie Bunker… “STIFLE!”

QUIET!! A baby was boin yestaday!

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Cindy-Bindy.



In my last posts I mentioned a girl named Cindy. Who is Cindy? I don’t even know where to start with this one. Let’s just say she’s a crazy banana cupcake gypsy lady. And she dances with fire fans.

About a month ago, I got this interesting message in my inbox on the couchsurfing website. This random chick was like, “Hey I know this is super last minute but I’ll be in your city tomorrow and I need a place to sleep. I’ve been traveling around Morocco alone and I’m SO over staying with dudes. If you can let me spend the night, I’d totally appreciate it.”  Ok, fine. I can completely relate to the traveling alone in a foreign country thing. So I checked out her profile and turns out she’s from California, too. So far so good. Under her “Occupation” section, it said: Bartender, Jeweler, Bellydancer, Photographer, Teacher, and  Dirt Bag. I loved her already. Then I checked out her Music section and that was prettymuch the deal sealer. Among her faves are Digable Planets, Billie Holiday, Gangstarr, Sade, Portishead, Tom Waits, and Prefuse 73. I was already sold. I responded back with, “Hey you seem like just the person I need to meet. I can tell we’re gonna get along right away.”  Was I right? Tooooootes!

At a music festival in Essaouira, Morocco



The first night I met her at the bus station and helped her carry her 700 lbs of backback crap to my house. We ended up laughing right away and stayed up allllll night talking till like 5am. She immediately distributed her stuff in my guest bedroom and started moving the beds around to make herself a little nest of blankets. She currently sleeps in there every night with her head upside down and covered in a thin green blanket she stole from an airplane.

Before she came to Morocco, she was on a life adventure. A year and a half ago, she got sick of  the US and decided to do what I did—pack everything up and just bounce. Her first stop was Egypt. She lived there and sold jewelry to pay her rent. Big fancy house? Nope. Cruddy apartment? Nope. Hostel? Nope. She lived in a tiny hut made of palm tree leaves and bamboo sticks somewhere on the banks of the Red Sea. Every day she’d wake up, lay on the beach and then work at night. As you can imagine, that lifestyle can really tire a girl out after a while. Four months later it was time to say goodbye to Egypt.  Next stop: Jordan.

When I asked her what she did while she lived in Jordan she said, “Nothing. Just chilled.” I was like, “yeah, but did you work?”  “Nope. Just chilled. …and went to art shows.”  So I suppose that sums up her life in Jordan. She stayed with her friend Omar that she apparently knew from California. After a few months in Jordan, she packed up her bags and on went on to the next location: Lebanon.

Lebanon was her home for a while and when she was there she sold some jewelry here and there and basically just continued her job as full-time chill princess. I’m sure she dazzled everyone in her path along the way and turned things upside down wherever she went. You see, the thing about Cindy is that she always speaks her mind, calls people out on their bs, and gets ALL up in the mix—but she does it so politely that you can’t possibly get mad. She just has this way of speaking loudly and assertively with a huge smile on her face so you don’t know if she’s pissed, annoyed, super happy, or if she just thinks you’re a total moron. Either way, she tells it like it is and gets what she wants.

She jetted from Jordan and headed to Turkey, leaving a trail of glitter dust behind her footsteps. While she was there she taught bellydance classes, ate an obnoxious amount of chestnuts and shwarma, and became smitten with a DJ. She lived in a neighborhood that was about as far from her Santa Barbara roots as you can get. According to her, it was full of  tall buildings run by shady slumlords and decorated with overflowing dumpsters. “Dude,  this place was UNNNNreal. I was totally living in the nstiest ghetto neighborhood in all of Istanbul. It was full of  scumbags, drug dealers, prostitutes, rapists, transvestites…and me.” She used to get a kick out of the trannies in the the early hours of the day—“You should’ve seen them in the mornings with last night’s makeup still on!”  Despite all this, she loved being in Turkey. She sold some jewelry to vintage boutiques in different neighborhoods of the city,  bellydanced, taught English, and of course…just chilled.

A friend of hers was about to get married in Spain so she once again packed everything up and headed out. The girl getting married was her best friend from childhood of many  years and their moms were also best friends growing up. Cindy’s mom and the friend’s mom both flew to Spain for the wedding and it was the first time Cindy saw her mom in about a year. After hearing the “When are you gonna settle down?” speech, she stayed for a few days with her mom and then headed to lovely Morocco.

At first she traveled around Morocco alone and stayed in places like Fez, Marrakech, Rabat, and the sleepy beach city of Essaouira. She met quite a few interesting people along her way and  I’m sure she managed to enchant the Moroccan men. She’s like a tourist who’s not a tourist. She dives head-first and doesn’t let people get in her way. Maybe they’re afraid of her—or at least intrigued. She wears her curly hair in a big puff on the top of her head and shoves 2 chopsticks in it. Further down, you can see gigantic hoop earrings in her ears accompanied by pink marble sliced rocks or sometimes leather feathers. She wears rings on every finger, jazzes up her outfits with brightly colored scarves, and is covered in tattoos—including giant peacock feathers inside her left arm. She wears a custom hand-made leather fanny pack with all her stuff in their appropriate compartments and you can always find a heart-shaped key dangling from her neck.

The best part about Cindy is that she’s a goofball like me. That’s why we get along so well. For example, we were on our way to the souk one day and we found this crazy playground with a strange spinning teeter-totter thing. I was like, “Dude! Let’s go on that thing!” Of course she agreed and we were spinning around and laughing like little girls.


Weeeee!!!

We get to the souk and she’s wandering around by herself looking for amusement. She finds it in the form of an antique ukelele (you-ka-LAY-lee) or however you spell it. I’m at a little shop around the corner and I suddenly hear this voice. I put down what I was looking at and become determined to find out where it’s coming from. I should’ve known. Of COURSE it’s Cindy. She’s sitting in the shop owner’s chair, strumming the mini guitar, and in the style of Tiny Tim is singing, “I’m a geeeeeeeenie in a bottle, ya gotta rub me the right waaaaaay.” She’s full-on singing every word in the slowest, most serious voice like it’s a love ballad. Of course nobody understands a word she’s saying. I on the other hand am dying laughing, tears streaming down my face. I managed to get her out of there and on to the next one. It’s like a 5-year old leading a 5-year old.
"I'm a geeeenie in a bottle..."

She finds humor in the same things as me and we are constantly laughing when we’re together. See picture below for one an example.
Caption not required.




How can you not love this face?


We both blurt out random things and then look at eachother and crack up. She once asked me all serious, “Do you wanna join the urban goat community?”  which of course I responded with “Yeah, duh.” A few other things about Cindy: She is really good at doing impersonation of the NYC subway rats, she balances swords on her head, she knows how to smell plants, she likes going to the sardine factory, sometimes she does “turtle neck”, and she’s a self-proclaimed “pasty gray Mexican” who like to be home alone and shhhhhhimmmmy.
Did I mention she's good at stabilizing ladders?



Hitchhiking to Taghazout.

There are so many things I’m leaving out but I’ll add things to future blogs so you can get a taste of what it’s like to be around that ding-dong all day every day. She’s here till whenever but I have a feeling she’ll stay in my heart forever.
Ohhh, Cindy-Bindy...

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