Thursday, April 26, 2012

Epic Fail #233 - Accidental Porn


We've all adjusted quickly and rather well to living in Cairo, despite the occasional tears and frustration over things that "aren't like home." 

For O, the sports fan, especially, it has been a constant struggle to watch college basketball and now Major League Baseball games on our satellite "Dream Box" that plays mostly soccer matches and Disney shows in Italian, Greek and Polish.

When the satellite is down - which is more often than not - a critical connection to the familiar and comforting is severed.  And Mommy's got to fix that fast.

Consequently, I had developed a nice little relationship with the two young Egyptian satellite technicians who came to my flat, weekly it seemed, to get the bird back online.  Owing to my meager command of Arabic, our Fixer, Fifi, generally facilitated our interactions, but one day I was feeling bold and confident and attempted unaided communication.  That was my first mistake.

All was going well.  I greeted the satellite guys with a friendly sabah al khair (good morning).   I pointed at the TV, stabbed at buttons on the remote to no avail, and made a frowny face to convey my deep sadness over the lack of satellite signal.  They got it and went right to work to fix the problem.

A while later, they called out "Madame" (I am a madame here) and I rejoined them in the living room to inspect their work.  As they punched in channels on the remote, crystal clear images of Phineas and Ferb and The Simpsons came on 60 inch screen.  Things were looking good.  Until they handed the remote back to me to test it out.

I took the remote and started pressing buttons.  We were all smiling and nodding, so of course I got cocky and started messing with the volume.  Homer Simpson said something in Italian really loud.  I went wild and started scrolling through this channel and that channel, my hubris driving me to accidentally switch from the "Kids" bouquet to the "Adult" bouquet.

Suddenly, my Muslim friends and I are staring at naked pieces and parts, glistening and thrusting vigorously in all their HD glory.  With the volume cranked way past 11.  I panicked and tried to change the channel.  Push push - Polish MILFs!  Oh no, Greek lesbians!   Push, push, push - very naughty pirates of ambiguous ethnicity ... on a speed boat?  

Whether it was the subtitled moaning of the office vixens or the blonds with big boobies that attracted her attention, I'll never know, but just as I threw the remote at the repairmen and ran screaming "la, la, la" (no, no, no) out of the room, poor sweet Fifi entered.

With silent agreement, Fifi and I have vowed never to speak of my satellite shame.  I am no longer allowed to greet vendors unsupervised and Fifi has had the repairmen put a lock on "the channel that no one should ever watch."

/lkm in Cairo

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