Spongeing Off the Not-Locals

Quote of the Day: "I'm sick of following my dreams. I'm just going to ask them where they're going and hook up with them later."

- Mitch Hedberg

Friends and Family,

One of these days I am going to have to actually feed myself. But until that day comes, I’ll be more than happy to sponge off the Brits.

They are really nice people and because I can hold my own and sling insults back at them as fast as they are coming at me, it’s a good situation. I know they like me because they don’t hold back.

I’ve been called a wanker more times than I can count.

Today, it was a dinner over at the couple who consist of an Indian, Muslim husband and a Greek wife, both brought up in the UK so they have the accent.



They bought the equivalent of KFC for the assorted guests (about 15 in all). You can get a 4 piece meal with slaw and corn for about $2. It ends up that another one of the guests paid for it all. He is a Frenchman from Seattle and will be going back there for 3 weeks of vacation so he wanted to buy everyone dinner.



He was also nice enough to ask if I wanted anything from Seattle and since “my family” was kind of out of the question, I settled on some coffee. Since we can get Starbucks here, he is going to get me some SBC.

The people here are incredible and certainly love Marines.

I was supposed to go out and get a haircut and go horseback riding with a South African buddy I met but when he didn’t call, I called him and it ends up his father died and he apologized up and down for not calling.



I told him I should be the last thing on his friggin’ list and expressed my sympathy. He was trying to get an exit visa in a hurry and was busy trying to sort it all out. Everyone here was pretty upset over all of this because you become really close to all these people.

This guy had bought a thoroughbred for about $3000 because the King buys these incredible ponies and if they are not in the top tier, he sells them for practically nothing. Bruce ended up buying one and wanted to show me. I’m sure that will be another adventure when he gets back. I’ll try to write from my hospital bed.

Before all this was going on, I got a text invited me to Ali’s house for dinner so in a sad, sick way, it worked out.

(Texting is the main form of communication here and I’m trying to get used to it. I’m all thumbs but that’s texting, right? But for me, it’s like a monkey playing with a Rubik’s Cube.)

Today was the second day of working out and we did back and biceps. We work out in this little gym and we are the only ones in there so far. It’s pretty ghetto but it adds to the “Rocky Goes to Russia” feeling. “It moost blllake me.”



But we are not chasing chickens or lifting hay bales, yet.

I will admit, I’m about as sore as if I was beat down in my sleep. And to compare that pain with the pitiful amount of work I actually did pushing weight and I want to cry but all my liquids are gone through what appears to be pores the size of small spikets on my forehead. It’s yet to NOT hit 100 every day since I arrived.

Then for the second day in a row, we are invited to dinner and I eat stupid amounts of food.

I did limit myself to one glass of grape tea which brings me to … many days in a row where I’ve consumed tea. They tell me everyone leaves here an alcoholic.

Great.

But with my workout and Marine image to uphold (there is only two of us here), I think I will overcome that (loud belch…).

Plus, old + alcohol everyday does not mix if I don’t want to moonlight as Shamu on the weekends.

There is something the Brits call the “Saudi Stone” which is almost like the “Freshman 15.” A stone is 14 lbs and it’s said that everyone gains that while they are here.

I’ve only done 10 so maybe that’s 6 pence and a shilling (I really have no idea if that is even close but it made me laugh and that’s what’s important here.)

When I got home, I did some more cleaning (slowly working my way into every crevice) and threw away yet another trash bag full of crap. I’m sure the houseboys are surprised at the difference. I caught them in my home today when I walked in. They were all sitting down and jumped up when I came through the door.

They were there because I had given the head fixer-guy a list of stuff that needed fixin’ in the villa. Don’t think my predecessor was a handyman so that he didn’t need the managers to fix things: he just left it unfixed.

The washer machine needed fixed.

One of the A/C units was leaking water.

The bottom of the silverware drawer had fallen out.

One of the oven lights didn’t work.

The kitchen light cover was gone.

None of the lights over the mirrors in the bathroom worked.

While they were here fixing these things, they decided to clean the whole house again so I got a bonus cleaning only an army of $4-per-week TCNs can do.

Don’t worry, we are taking them to lunch on Wednesday. And I normally give them something to eat and drink (normally the things I don’t want but hey, don’t judge me).

Lastly, I’d like to announce that despite my stated hatred of sharing my living space, I have yet another invader. In fact, about 10,000 of them in the form of ants that seemingly sleep off their nocturnal partying in my kitchen by sleeping all day somewhere out of sight. And the little bastards are as big as my thumb.

So since we are all sharing this space, I should charge them rent. Everyone pitches in a dollar and we should be square.

Wait, I don’t pay rent.

Dang it!

FML for Today: “Today, I was sitting next to a child in an airplane. Eventually, he threw up. While holding my breath and closing my eyes, I had to pass his paper bag of vomit to the flight attendant. Turns out I grabbed the bottom end. Result: vomit in my lap for the next 3 hours. FML.”