Transcontinental call from Cairo to Cairo

I spoke to Steve on the phone today. He is in Cairo, Egypt, not to be confused with Cairo (pronounced like the syrup), the hamlet in which I am presently residing. It was one of our first telephone conversations using an international calling card to the Middle East, otherwise known as the bain of my existence. The conversation went something like this:

Him: mumble, mumble, mmm, hmmmm?
Me: What?
Him: MUMBLE, MUMBLE, mmmmmmm, hmmmmmm?
Me: WHAT? I can't hear you. Are you talking into the phone mic? You have to talk into the mic!
Him: What. Else. Is. Going. On. Anything?
Me: Oh. Nothing, really.

It was mostly a series of exchanges like this one. Excellent.

Truth Be Told

I'm still working on my CSI-Effect story. I watched yet another episode today, and I will watch another before I go to bed. Truth be told, I kind of hate the show - the no-nonsense attitudes of the science nerd characters, the not-so-subtle theme that "Science is God" (when really we all know that the one true God is "the WORD." I believe the ancient philosophers and the early Christians called it LOGOS, hello?), the outrageous scenarios (although the CSIs did solve a murder in the last episode by matching a type of honey, which they referred to as the "purest of all honeys" to some honey at a crime scene. I thought it was great because I used to know the Arabic word for that honey). All that said, though, the show is strangely addictive. Can anyone explain this to me?

And in other news, after a traumatizing hiatus, our Bitch is back. For real this time.

What's your useless talent?

In D.C. last summer I was bored and bitter (hey! you would be too if you had to live in a perpetual state of bad hair horror. step off.), but really did enjoy living with the girls. In our post-newsroom evening conversations we managed to cover a lot - the stinkiness of our living room, the filth of our landlady's basement abode, the conspiracy of the downward-creeping thermostat. During one of our chats I posed this question: What's your useless talent? I bring this up now because I just realized what my TRUE useless talent is:

I can identify by name (common not scientific) the names of many plants and flowers and trees that I have no business knowing the names of, being a person with a decidedly brown thumb.

My roommate K. says she has a talent for being an exceptional party guest, and N. extolls her ability to catch random objects when thrown in her general direction.

LD did not live with us, but I asked her anyway.... she is a fashion afficionado, apparently. She does the same thing that I do with plants with fashion designers and clothing.

I didn't ask Allison, but I'm going to speak for her. She can hear a rap song once and know all the words thereafter. Inexplicable. She does the same with numbers - phone numbers, social security numbers, house numbers, you name it.

As for my other two D.C. roommates, well, they never did commit. Our stoic M-dawg momentarily considered this frivolous inquiry, and then, matter-of-fact and without a hint of humor said, "I don't have one. All my talents are useful."

I thought her response lacked creativity.

She is now living in Tokyo with a great job reporting for a well-known American media outlet.

Sigh...it's just not a world for the creative or the uselessly talented.