Wiping with official tender (contains explicit content)

So last week I got this week-long job proofreading for a translation company; I was supposed to proofread the English text of newspaper articles translated from Arabic to English by Egyptians. They said they wanted native speakers, so I qualified. So mostly I'd have to say the job was pretty awesome, if a bit humorous. The quality of the work we received was terrible, and judging from the attitude of the translators, it wasn't their fault. I was a bit embarassed for the newspaper we were translating for because the writing was so bad. But then again, that made it way better for me, because I could be judgmental and scoffing like, "I know this!" And it was the first time I've done a job that involves doing anything, the only thing I've learend in school, that's writing. And it was interesting trying to figure out what was the most accurate way to convey meaning while keeping a potential interested by removing stylistic distractions. Pop stars must have to do that all the time. In a more cynical version, I though, hey, white people correcting brown people's work, being served coffee and tea by black people. In 2006. Huzzah! No, not really, everyone else working with me was Egyptian but grew up in England. The English are so funny.

Yeah anyway, that is all background information. I went to the bathroom and not all the bathrooms here come with complimentary toilet paper. I mean they don't have any. And I forgot that and normally I check but I didn't. And normally I have my backpack so it's no big, I just get out my napkins and get to it. But on this fateful day, I ducked into the bathroom on my way back from the tech's office and relieved myself, except I soon discovered I'd actually panicked myself, because SHIT! there was no toilet paper. I looked around frantically for anything other than my left hand, but there were neither rags nor cleenex nor any reusables in the trash.

And then I remembered! Those nearly worthless but now priceless rags-that-pass as currency in this country. Yes, my friends, I squeezed out of this pinch thanks to a few 25 piaster notes. That's about four and a half cents for those of you keeping score at home. 9 cents later I was clean enough to race back to my backpack to get my precious streetlady-napkins and return to the loo to finish the job.

I'm sorry, that was really gross but I'm making myself laugh...