Kıl.

You know that person at a nice dinner party who gets needlessly, profoundly wasted and begins to awkwardly masturbate over his/her clothing absently whilst bellowing on and on and on about how enjoyable life as a CPA is?

You know that one person who steps in front of you while you are walking minding your own effing business, blocks your path and asks you for a cigarette when you clearly aren't a smoker -and then is insulted when you can't produce the necessary?

You know that one woman who shoves in front of you in line at the supermarket and presents five hundred coupons and argues with the clerk over the cost of rutabegas and Summer's Eve vinegar and water douches while beating her seven dirtbabies?

You know that one guy you meet at a formal party who asks if your suitcoat is secondhand (because, of course, it's ill-fitting) as he sips a highball and thinks about how he balls the host's wife in her own kitchen every Tuesday?

You know that one old lady you sit next to on every flight who introduces herself, tells you about the grandchild she's visiting and then asks you if you've accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as your Personal Savior while eating a Hostess cake with a fork?

You know that one fratboy who goes to the Chinese restaurant only to order "flied lice" and mock the waitress' English skills and stick chopsticks under his upper lip to pretend he's a walrus?

You know that one special person in your life who, if you saw him/her in the Wal*Mart, you'd try to hide in the shampoo aisle while trying desperately to not exude the stench of fear of being seen?

Well, in Turkish, there's a word for that. Kıl. Kıl means, literally, "hair." The undercurrent of the meaning, though, is felt in your gut rather than in your noodle. You know when you're eating at a restaurant and you're just about to bite into something and you see a large, black hair? Or when you're about to sip that lovely martini and you find a nasty eyelash floating on the meniscus? Or, when you go to a hotel and lift the bedspread and find that single, curly black hair next to your pillow? The accompanying lurch in your belly - that's where kıl lives. Something foul. Something loathsome that makes you physically ill.


Like this effing day.


Until Monday, I remain,

Dom