Saturday, October 07, 2006

On vibrators, African terrorists and Nieman-Marcus

I just heard the craziest story about an aid worker in the Sudan. As told to me over a bowl of chile verde and glass of wine:

Girl goes to Africa to work on trying to save Sudan from destruction. Barely misses getting blowed up by a suicide bomber who ran into a UN facility, where other workers had gathered to watch Desperate Housewives; the only reason the girl missed the show - she's a DH regular - was because she was in the middle of a long conversation on the satellite phone with her friend (also my friend, who made aforementioned green chile & told me the story; let's call her "Sarah"). She had just said to Sarah, "Hey I gotta go, DH is on," when she heard a loud blast, and said, "That was weird. There was just a loud pop across the street. Let me call you back."

Freaky.

So the story goes on ...

Eventually, the girl comes back to the states for a brief visit, and meets Sarah in Atlanta, where they both went to college. They go on a crazy shopping spree - first stop, Nieman-Marcus for a $90 cashmere sweater. Second sop - the sex toy store.

She needed a new dildo; lonely out there in the Sudan.

Sarah described the sex store as similar to those Wal-Mart Super-Stores: a vast selection of goods whose function and purpose is difficult to ascertain to the uninitiated.

They approached an employee, told her what the deal was ("I live in the Sudan. I need an all-purpose solution here.") The employee led them to a shelf, picked up a, um, unit, described how it worked, and sent them to the cashier.

Easy.

So she returns to Africa, and a couple days after she lands, calls Sarah back. Sarah happened to be knee-deep in leading an important conference for one of her corporate clients. Upon seeing the caller ID from Sudan, Sarah freaks out:

"Last time she called, they had just blown up the TV room where she was supposed to be watching Desperate Housewives and killed like 30 people. This was like two months ago. So when I saw it was a call from Sudan, I ran out of my meeting crying and yelled into the phone, 'What's wrong? Are you OK?' My client was like, what the fuck is wrong with this girl?

"And she talks casually into the phone, 'No, I'm fine sweetie, don't worry. But I have a really important question - I can't get this fucking vibrator to work. Do you remember what the girl in the store said? Fuck, this is so frustrating!'

"I told her, Jesus girl, I thought you were dead. First time she calls me, 30 people are blowed up across the street watching Desperate Housewives. Next time she calls me, she's horny and can't get her vibrator to work."

Life in the Sudan, I guess.

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