The full impact of summer
The full fury of an Afghan summer is upon us and the worst of it, surprisingly, is not the dust, the sleepless nights in 35 degrees or the general malaise of overheated offices. No dear folks. It's something far worse than I had ever anticipated.
The smell.
Now I know I have already written on this subject but I just have to vent again on the putrid tang of the local populous. I thought the Unwashed Winter Wiff was bad but I had not prepared myself for the Smelly Onslaught of Summer. I have a new colleague whose desk is two metres from mine and yet it feels like I have my nose firmly grafted to his encrusted, fetid armpits. It’s so ripe, so caustic, so entirely filthy that I have actually been dry-reaching onto my keyboard. I even went through half a bottle of my new Dubai duty-free perfume in half an hour by spraying the entire office. But no, the odour permeated the perfume and I am out for the count. I swear there are actually greem plumes of fumes arising from his pits.
The smell.
Now I know I have already written on this subject but I just have to vent again on the putrid tang of the local populous. I thought the Unwashed Winter Wiff was bad but I had not prepared myself for the Smelly Onslaught of Summer. I have a new colleague whose desk is two metres from mine and yet it feels like I have my nose firmly grafted to his encrusted, fetid armpits. It’s so ripe, so caustic, so entirely filthy that I have actually been dry-reaching onto my keyboard. I even went through half a bottle of my new Dubai duty-free perfume in half an hour by spraying the entire office. But no, the odour permeated the perfume and I am out for the count. I swear there are actually greem plumes of fumes arising from his pits.
posted by Emira Shafiqa at 6:44 pm
3 Comments:
dearest ermira,
my advice is to start drinking whiskey first thing in the morning and to continue throughout the day.
it's really comforting to get into bed and to snuggle into your own armpit after a week on the bottle.
really nice.
--
on another note, i was drinking whiskey with a friend of mine last week and he brought up my blog then immediately started talking about yours. i snuggled into my armpit shortly afterwards and dreamt of you in a burqa.
love,
drake
Is your friend single?
he is sinful.
for some reason it just occurred to me that i should move back to af-fucking-ghanistan! what am i thinking?
i'm going to get drunk and forget the whole thing.
bye.
i'm going out of my mind
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