You might recall that I wrote a little book called Shnoo the Hell is Going on Hnaa?  A Beginner’s Guide to Moroccan Arabic. My old language teacher mailed me a copy of it full of corrections. I’ve made them all, and I’m starting to ramp up new content for it. Here’s the thing: The book satisifies my kleptomaniac tendancies. Other people collect baseballs and glassware. I collect idiomatic expressions.

On an unrelated note, an iguana got into my apartment somehow and pooped on the floor. I went to the walgreens, and the cute girl behind the counter asked why I needed four gallons of bleach, and before I knew what I was saying I told her I was a victim of a reptile dysfunction.



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