Post Office

So I leave tomorrow. More on that after dinner tonight. Anyway, as I was rounding out my last few things here, I went to mail some postcards. I found that there was a postal slip in the inbox. So what did I do? Well, as I always go when a plan hits even a tiny snag, I panicked. And then I ran to the post office just a few seconds before it closed and got the package.

Handing it to me, the man behind the counter says “Who is your brother?” And I say “I don’t have a… uh, Moses?” That was the correct answer. He was very happy a godless American knew about Aaron and Moses. Actually, I was kind of proud, also.

Anyway, Marci is an awesome. She sent me the Borat! I am still surprised that as a huge, awkward weirdo in Arab North Africa, I’ve never seen it. In her honor, I post these two phrase in arabic that you may need to use:

“Kay-ah-djeb-nee” (I Like!)

“Bshaal?” (How Much?)

I would look up how to demand tears from a gypsy woman, but I have already packed my dictionary.

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