I Got Something to Say

Over the past couple of days, I've been on an emo/pop-punk kick and reminiscing to the early '00s when I owned Converse shoes with flames on them and went to Warped Tour and had a boyfriend who wore JNCOs. I didn't actually like this kind of music at the time, but it was all around me. Anyways, I found a bunch of random stuff, and I couldn't not share. It's too good! I found this stuff by memory association, so it's not all the same genre of music, actually.

I spared you Dashboard Confessional, but here's some entertaining stuff I found:

1. I hate NOFX but I used to love the original (non-NOFX) version of this song. My high school boyfriend and I used to sing it in the car all the time.


2. LOL


3. This is the epitome of silly early '00s semi-emo music. Wait, I just read the description of this video. I guess the director uploaded it to YouTube? He says he's obsessed with Requiem for a Dream, and that "the Moms" is in the video. James O. Incandeza, is that you? (Infinite Jest is taking over my life.)


4. I never listened to The Ataris. I think my friends and I made fun of them. But over the past two days I can't stop listening to this horrible mess. It is too good! "I'll treat you like a queen... a queen..."


5. I used to be obsessed with this song: Ozma's "Apple Trees," a collection of bad apple puns. Hey, I like bad puns as much as the next guy, but these guys are getting into Carrie Bradshaw territory. Still, whenever I hear that base in the beginning, I start to feel feelings.


6. And now for some actual good music! (Semi-sarcasm.) When I was 15, I was obsessed with Weezer. They filled the void that the Spice Girls had left behind. That may not make sense to you, but it does to me! Anyways, I spent all my time decoding Pinkerton lyrics and reading Weezer fan boards for new Weezer information. Then this super rare Weezer song from their abandoned rock opera Songs from the Black Hole came out, and I was all over that shit. It's a good song, or at least a cheap ho.


Sidenote: I think I will have to make a "favorite Weezer b-sides" blog post now because I'm finding too much good shit on YouTube.

No further comments.

Feeling Infinite

Welp, I'm back from the US, so it's back to posting in ye olde bloggie. My trip to the US was fabulous--thanks for asking. I ate many a breakfast taco.

Now, back to biz.

I started reading Infinite Jest. I'm on page 42. Here are my impressions so far.

Reasons DFW and I will be BFFs in the afterlife. Or, things I like about Infinite Jest up to pg. 42:
1. DFW often uses the word "creepy."
2. His first footnote describes crystal meth.
3. His characters say "like" in dialogue.
4. This paragraph: "I tend to get beat up, sometimes, at the Academy, for stuff like that. Does this bear on why I'm here? That I'm a continentally ranked junior tennis player who can also recite great chunks of the dictionary, verbatim, at will, and tends to get beat up, and wears a bow tie? Are you like a specialist for gifted kids? Does this mean they think I'm gifted?" (pg. 28)

And these are the bad seeds of the book so far (It's okay, they're not TOO important, and who knows? Maybe I'll end up loving them.):
1. Who calls their parents "the Moms" and "Himself"? Too twee. What is this, a Diablo Cody film?
2. That Hal calls his brother(?) "Boo" and "Booboo." Shut it down.
3. The (seemingly) random chapter in badly written ebonics.

More to come.

Beloved

I've been on a Shablool kick today, specifically the song Ma She'Yoter Amok Yoter Kachol (Whatever's Deeper Is More Blue). It's one of those songs you can just dance to in front of your mirror, perhaps with a hair brush in hand. Or while jumping on the bed. Or any other cliche activities that people perform while listening to awesome songs (driving with your hand out the window? standing outside of someone's window with a boombox over your head?).

My favorite video version is this one, because you can see my neighborhood in the distance, and Tel Aviv looked SO SHITTY when this video was made. Cracks me up. Just a bunch o' sand and dilapidated buildings. AMAZING. I think Arik is running around the beach I usually go to, which rules. One day, I will see him in Tel Aviv! He is the ultimate celeb sighting. And one day, Tel Aviv will look like this again, and I won't have to worry about people in huge skyscrapers staring at me while I sit on my balcony.
Here's the vid:

Unfortunately, the audio ain't too good on the Shitty Tel Aviv vid, so here's a better version:


<3

Arik is my favorite!*

*Except for when he sings cheesy, sentimental songs like Oof Gozal.

Look at Me, Busy as a Bee...

Damn, I am beginning to understand Israelis' obsession with New Age shit (yes, I am aware that I am Israeli and have always been into New Age shit, but let's just pretend I'm more of a foreigner than I really am and that the New Ageyness of Israelis is new to me).

It's just that you really have to be fucking zen to get through a day in Tel Aviv. Every day, I meet so many people I want to scream at, but I restrain myself. Like the scary frazzled woman on the bus today who was putting her bare feet on the seat in front of me. Or 99% of bus drivers. Well, okay, I guess my frustrations, as usual, mostly have to do with the bus, but ya know.

Thank God I do yoga. (I say this while dressed in full yoga gear even though I decided NOT to go to yoga after I put all my yoga clothes on. Instead I watched TV.)

And to think how much calmer I am now than I was when I first got here. (Did you know I've almost been here 1 year? OMG.) I was basically hyperventilating/crying every 2 secs 10 months ago, runnin round like a chicken with its head cut off.

Despite my current semi-calmness, I don't understand how I'm this exhausted every day simply from riding the bus, sitting in a cubicle, and riding the bus again. How does that tire a person so much? It just ain't right.

Maybe I should start doing meth?

Then I could be like this chipper young woman:



Hah, that never fails to crack me up.

Balloon Boys: What a Hoax!

I just got back from the Rabin rememberance rally. Never before have I seen so many 14-year-olds with Peace Now stickers! I felt like an alcoholic on Mardi Gras, like this is the one day a year when MY WAY is socially acceptable. Suddenly everyone was a leftist! People were signing up left and right for the Peace Now listserv. What is the deal?

And the 14-year-olds, oh the 14-year-olds. They really wanted our Peace Now balloons and would not shut up about them. "Can I have a balloon?" "No." "What if I sit here all evening? Can I get the balloon then?" "No, honey, but don't worry, there are lots of balloons out there that you can have in the future. Life is long." "But I want the balloon. Promise me you won't give the balloon to anyone else." "No."

Jeez Louise! The teens need to tone it down with the balloon-wanting!

Anyways, the rally felt self-congratulatory and fauxgressive. I mean, what was Ehud Barak doing there?! This event was as filled with hot air as our coveted Peace Now balloons.

In His Brain, There Are File Cabinets, and Secretaries Filing Their Nails... Downstairs

The other day, I was sitting around capitalizing words and changing verb tenses (probably) at work, when suddenly, I felt intense pain in my chest and stomach. Ouchies. I decided to take a cab home even though it cost 50 sheks, and the entire traffic-ridden way home I writhed in pain in the back seat. I dunno why my body hurt. It is a mystery. Waaaah.

While in pain in a cab, I heard an Israeli song on the radio that is totes trying to be Of Montreal circa Coquelicot.

This thing:



Is like that thing:



But not as good, obviously.

Similes: Now with More Creepy

I'm watching Israeli Survivor (yes, I'm drinking the kool-aid again), and one dude, when talking about his group of enemies on the show, just said "I'm like our country, and they're like Gaza, like Palestine. They're throwing rocks at me, they're bothering me, and I'm going to fight back hard. Then, I'm going to deport them all."

*crickets*

And to Think, I Don't Even LIKE Hummus That Much

Hello! My friend Chris just sent me an article about another flare-up in the hummus war between Israel and the rest of the Middle East (link here), and now I'm all upset, so I'd like to speak more about my feelings about hummus wars.

Look, I am not the biggest fan of Israeli hasbara and marketing around the world. And I do understand that some of the history of hummus in Israel comes from early Israeli settlers' (mostly European and Russian) glorifying/orientalizing/co-opting Arab identity. And yes, I am aware that Ashkenazi hegemony isn't going away any time soon.

But history-of-Zionism aside, currently more than 50% of Israelis are Middle Eastern Jews (unless stats have changed). Unless hummus and falafel were only eaten by non-Jews in the Middle East historically, which I really doubt since they are completely kosher, MOST ISRAELIS' FAMILIES WERE EATING THESE FOODS BEFORE THE CREATION OF THE STATE OF ISRAEL.

Denying the Israeliness of hummus and falafel is denying its Mizrahiness. While early Zionist settlers were European idealists braving the "exotic" desert, most Jews who live in Israel in the present have grandparents who probably spoke more Arabic than Hebrew.

So seriously, stop pretending that all us "Zionists" came from Europe and that we "put mayonnaise on our falafel" (this is what the people making fun of me on facebook for my falafel group said! harumph!).

Most of us JOOS are actually JEWISH ARABS. Get over it. MOST JEWS IN ISRAEL DID NOT ACTUALLY COME FROM EUROPE. Get over it. I mean, seriously, cancel that yoga class you scheduled with Ben Gurion in Be'er Sheba tomorrow and stop pretending it's the 1940s.

For more research on hummus wars, here are a couple of good articles.

!!!!!

This Is Like the Time(s) I Told My Friends that Instead of Getting Drunk, We Could Just Spin Around A Lot and We'd Get the Same Effect

I haven't charged my iPod in a LONG TIME. Nor have I put new music on it. I've been listening to the same shit since 2005!

The iPod has stopped accompanying me to the bus lately, but I still want to avoid the insane noise of the other passengers (unless they're telling stories like this lovely gem: "so my daughter dated this guy, and he was kinda controlling so she broke it off. Then he calls me and tells me, 'Please talk to your daughter. I want her back.' I tell him, 'Listen, you'll have to talk to her about this--I'm not her messenger.' Next thing you know, he stabs her in an alley! He's under house arrest now." Wait, what?).

So my new tactic is to just sing music to myself in my head! It's almost like listening to real music, but not. The lyrics ain't too pretty: "a rather shade of blaine with a wider shade of grass and this emory bore is giving me a glass." I sound like Pavement, but it's more like crooked pavement with dog poop on it. And the songs all blend together. And many times I end up having some horrible song that I heard at Aroma stuck in my head. But it is environmentally friendly. And I'm still too lazy to go charge the ol' pod.

My bus preparation skills need to be taken up a notch.

Bleerp Blorp

Hey, remember me? I am the writer of this bloggie. Hello!

Here are some things:

1. The degooglification of this blog has obviously not worked. When I Google my full name, I still see my old website all over the place bc a few people link to it. So, if your blog links to my blog, please change the link. (I'm talking to you, Kena! And you, Alex Stein!) I found lots of weird stuff when I Googled myself. For example, I found some Middle Easterners talking shit about me on facebook, because a few years ago I made a facebook group about how it's okay for Israelis to eat falafel. I kind of want to confront these people. I mean, seriously, more than half of Israelis are actually Middle Eastern by descent (including half of me). What are they supposed to eat? Cabbage? Don't buy into Ashkenazi hegemony! And do not deny the good people of Israel falafel!

2. On the bus on the way home every day, I pass by the Bursa. And I look into the windows of the lil skyscraper there. On the third floor or so, there is a synagogue, and I can see a bunch of Orthos praying/rocking back and forth. On the floor right above them, I see a bunch of people running on treadmills. This is my new favorite thing. Rocking dosim with people running on top of them. Heh!

3. Look at me with my new glasses! Beautiful princess is me.

I Got Nothin

So I've been having some "technical difficulties" lately. My lappie was sent for repair to the HP offices, and I've been using the work lappie, which for some reason, refuses to find a stable Internet connection. What gives?

In addition, I've just felt uninspired to write or take part in any other creative activities. Sometimes the whole Tel Aviv "scene" depresses me and makes me not want to do anything creative, ever! I'm currently trying to get over this hurdle.

The only way I've been "expressing my creativity" is by getting these Big Obnoxious Glasses which have provoked very intense reactions in people, let me tell ya! And the Israelis-staring-at-me phenomenon has been getting worse, much worse, due to said glasses. Dressing retardedly is my new creative outlet! But there has to be more to life than just dressing in a loud and obnoxious fashion, right?

Even my political activism has gone down a notch. I'm a lil disenchanted with it.

So yeah, I sign off with the resounding noise of "meh."

Like, dude...

I watched the film The Puffy Chair tonight and loved it. I was so excited that Ha'Ozen Ha'Shlishit actually has a prominent mumblecore section in their selection! See, after I watched Baghead last year (a movie made by the same people who made The Puffy Chair), I had a two-day mumblecore phase. By "mumblecore phase," I mean that I looked up the word "mumblecore" on wikipedia, and then happened to get a fever, which included feverish dreams of me repeating the word "mumblecore" in my head over and over. The word just got lodged into my head and during the entire time I was coughing up phlegm in my bed and taunted me. Taunted me! It was obnoxious.

Anyways, I've realized that I am way too into awkward realism at the movies. The Puffy Chair is kind of like The Office (British) in full-length movie form. Kinda like how Water World is like the I'm On a Boat video in full-length movie form. I watched that movie during Yom Kippur and they seriously talked about being on a motherfuckin' boat for like half the movie. Lame.

Anyways #2, after I watched the Puffy Chair, I did what I always do and watched the SPECIAL FEATURES of the DVD. 2 kewl 4 skool. In one of the special features, the Whatever Brothers, who made the movie, talked about themselves, and said they went to UT Austin for film school. Right after they said the words "UT Austin," I yelled out"Hook 'em." To myself. What is happening to the world? First I'm wearing a UT belly shirt to yoga, and now this? What next--should I hang a huge Texan flag on my balcony? ('Cause I was thinking about it). Someone save me from myself pls.

I did it! I changed my blog's name. Woohoo! Look at me!

A Few of My Favorite Things

Oh em geeee. As you (probably don't) know, I am obsessed with the NPR radio show This American Life. It has gotten me through the rough times, and through many a 15-hour bus ride in Mexico. I love Ira Glass, and I love that he used to watch the OC with his wife and got really excited when they made fun of This American Life on it. Eeeep!

As you already know, I also love the blog fourfour and the video mentioned here: http://mfthewebsite.blogspot.com/2009/07/this-isnt-americas-next-top-best-friend.html

Now, both of these forces have been combined in the newest episode of TAL, entitled Frenemies. (I also love the concept of frenemies! I love everything! Love!). Yes, good ol' Ira has an actual TAL story about the I'm Not Here to Make Friends youtube video. Life is good.

You can listen to the podcast here (the particular story I'm talking about starts at about 23:15): http://www.thisamericanlife.org/Radio_Episode.aspx?episode=389

PS I wonder what a This Israeli Life show would be like. Actually, it'd be exactly like This American Life but with more joos. There are waaaay too many TAL stories about Israelis. Remember the one about IDF summer camp? Jews run the media.

DFW I<3U

David Foster Wallace makes me want to write so much fiction! And I suck at writing fiction. (My last attempt at it was a story about a bird who speaks in a Southern accent and its stalker raccoon who speaks in a faux-Shakespearean manner. Enough said.)

When I say David Foster Wallace inspires me, I actually mean that this article in the New Yorker about him inspires me. I have already read this article twice.

I mean, he was compulsively second-guessing everything he wrote! And he was interested in characters who do extremely boring work, and how out of that work they suck meaning into their lives! I am also interested in these things! Wow!

Where in the World is M.F. the Website?

Hello, "readers" (aka people who googled Dogtanian and somehow reached my blog),

The tides of summer have crashed into the glass- and plastic-bag-infested shore, and a new autumn of non-foliage and non-cold is upon us. I, M.F., of M.F. the Website, have a few questions on the eve of this here autumn:

1. Why is M.F. the Website missing its proper punctuation? M.F.: the Website, or M.F., the Website, would have been lovely.

2. How come I haven't yet discussed the new season of Israeli Survivor? (Because it's boring.)

3. When will I have more guests visit me from the US? (Nevar. Hostel o' F. '09 has left me seeking alone time in my apartment by myself forever! Though Hostel o' F. time was lovely.)

4. How excited am I for all the Jewish holidays coming up? (Not very.)

5. When will I finally rename this blog so that it's not the first thing that comes up when you google my name? (I dunno.)

6. When will I actually show up to a Peace Now protest on the other side of the green line? (I'm scared!)

7. Why am I going on vintage shopping sprees 2 months before I go to the vintage retail heaven that is Austin/New York?

8. How awesome is it that all these good indie bands are coming to Tel Aviv these days? Yippee!

9. How did I ever live without watching Seinfeld every single day?

10. How glad am I to not be in a country that would ever argue about giving all its citizens health insurance?

100 Posts

I usually love summer, but am so glad this one is ending. I decided to buy a ticket to the US of A for late November/early December. So I'll be in the US just in time for Christmas madness, and you know how much I hate Christmas. But it's fine. I've realized that the religious/capitalistic fanaticism is not something I can escape from, at least not in Israel (successful kibbutzim excluded). When I walk around on the UT campus, I won't mind the Christian proselytizing, now that I spend a couple of hours every day sitting by crazy people murmuring into their Jewish prayer books on the bus. Anyways, I'm getting ahead of myself. What I meant to say is: I can't wait to go vintage shopping, to eat Mexican food, to see my dog Phoebs, to see real hipsters, to watch people do real drugs, to feel like I know people and they know me, to be treated weirdly for being Jewish, to not hear sexist remarks all the time, and to hug all my loved ones. I'm going to America, bitches! (in a while) (and for only three weeks) (but still)

I'm sleepy so I guess I won't write about the shooting at the gay gathering-place by my house, or all these summer-madness murders, or the fact that Tel Aviv is insanely hot right now and I want to GET OUT and go to New England or Canada or somethin'.

Blargh. Let's hope that at least my plants will survive this summer!

This Isn't America's Next Top Best Friend

Hello there,

So I've been thinking that when I first got to Israel (7 months ago--can you believe it?), I thought I'd finally have to stop living my life on two different continents, stop the yearning for secular Zion and all that. Instead, my life has gotten even more fragmented--with my F.mily and platonic life partners all being in the US, I feel like I'm in a gajillion long distance relationships.

This summer, The Summer of Guests, has led many a friend and family member to an Israeli pilgrimage to visit ME. Last week, three of my closest friends were here, and after they left, I got all sadsies thinking about how much loved ones are all so far away. Good thing that I didn't move to Israel to make no friends--I came here to be #1!

I've been noticing that the number of visits on my blogs substantially decreases on Shabbat. Are mitzvah-keeping Jews really my audience? Who knew?


And by the way, mfthewebsite will be back with regular posting soon enough.

Is it just me or does the Old City of Jerusalem look kind of fake? How is it thousands of years old? It was probably built by Disney in the 1950's.

Sing Me a Sad Song

Distraction!

This is a photo of people having candle wax dripped on their backs. I took this photo today while watching an Israeli game show called "Distracted," where contestants have to answer basic questions while placed in very distracting positions. Such as having HOT WAX dripped on them! Doesn't that technically count as torture?

Then, the winning contestant, Benny, who squealed a lot in a high voice, had to answer more questions. When he got a question wrong, the contestants who had lost earlier destroyed one of his prizes by hitting them with hammers. He was left with the non-destroyed items.
The two items they destroyed were a digital camera and a computer.

I... have no words.

Anthem Du Jour

This week needs to end now.

I've been listening to this old school song on repeat:



It is a song about how the world stinks, from New York to Rafiach. And that some girl is being mean to the singer--sometimes she understands him, and sometimes she's a bitch. She's not very clear. It is also a song about how we're all racist.

My favorite part of the video is when the band rides around in a garbage truck (sidenote: I was seriously about to type "trash van." I wish I knew how to speak English.). I like their garbage truck shenanigans because I relate to them--being on a bus for 2 hours a day is kinda like being on a garbage truck, but with more gross people shoving their bodies on you. And with more yelling.

I can also relate to this song, because I, like the girl who is taunting the singer, am often a "bat zona." I don't sit around my room in white underwear smoking cigarettes, though.

Father Facts

I don't care about made-up American holidays, which usually don't even involve the most important part of holidays: food. But, today I've been reading all this "stuff" about Father's Day, and then I started missing my dad! And then I teared up. I wasn't even prompted by a reality show to cry. I just did it!

Anyways, my aba is a character. He is out of control. So I figured I should write a post about him. But not because it's Father's Day because that's stupid.

So here are some fun facts about my father:

1. He wears an earring instead of a wedding band.

2. He often starts whispering mid-sentence instead of talking.

3. He calls my siblings and me "hot dogs" ("naknikiot").

4. When we have chocolate in the house, he often hides it and eats it all himself.

5. He is a walking encyclopedia of rock and roll history and is basically a hipster. His favorite band is Dengue Fever (and he drove to New York with his BFF to see them--bahaha). He also went through a Texas swing music phase. Yeah, I dunno.

6. My mom made posters of this picture of him in his '20s, when he still had his golden curls and looked Jim Morrison-esque. I used to have this poster in my house in Austin, and all my friends became his fans based on the poster. I guess it's a little odd to own a poster of your dad, but my mom is just really into making posters of us. Uhhh, yeah.

7. He is obsessed with my dog Phoebe, though he spells her name "Fibi." One time he said "Phoebe is my best friend" and it was the funniest thing ever.

8. My 15-year-old brother and my dad often have heart-to-hearts.

9. He "tans" outside for five minutes every day because he's super pale.

10. For a couple of years, he wouldn't let me get glasses because he was really into these eye exercises that improve your vision, and made me do those instead of getting glasses. I only got glasses in college when I was away from his watchful eye. He's seriously too into alternative medicine.

Hope you enjoyed these TRUE FACTS.

Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret

Copyright Noam F. 2009

Little notes:

• Today is stoopid and I am not in a good mood, but this drawing I just received from my lil brother just made everything all better. Almost. This drawing (and the others I received) sure are wonderful.
• You know you've assimilated in Israel when you think it's appropriate to wear a Longhorns belly shirt to yoga class. I feel both embarrassed and empowered by this apparel decision.

Longer notes:

• I went to this huge festival in Jaffa the other day, and I still assert that it's the best city in Israel. There were all these literary journals there for sale featuring both Arab and Jewish writers; they had both Arab and Jewish musical artists; the festival had all this lefty political pamphlets around; and there were lots of Arabs and Jews frolicking around and coexisting peacefully. It brought a tear to my eye. It was like a glimpse into the peaceful future that I've decided this country is going to have.
• After the festival, we walked around beautiful Jaffa and stumbled into a dance partay in the street. It was almost Austin-y. We only danced for ten minutes but I haven't had that much fun dancing in a while. Jaffa is the paragon of cities.
  

Okay, I'm gonna go listen to NWA and then sing some songs about night cheese to end this little mood I'm in. See you suckaz l8r.

My Annabel Leigh Moment

So you know how I wrote that post the other day about my deep-seated desires of being a '90s Israeli teen? Well, here's a confession.

In 4th or 5th grade, when I was still living in Israel (moved to Texas in 6th grade), I read this book, which became my favorite book. Not Eva-Hoffman-favorite, but close. I'll tell you about that book in a sec, but I'd also like to note that that same year, I read a choose-your-own-adventure book where I was a knight, but I quickly "died" because I chose to go to some "sweet-smelling flowers" that were actually POISON. I still haven't recovered from that. Anyways, the favorite, non-choose-your-own-adventure book (though I certainly would have chosen its adventure!) was about this 17-year-old girl who has a blue streak in her hair (which I soooo wanted to get), whose parents move to the US right before she starts her senior year of high school. But instead of going with them, she stays in Israel and lives on her own or something? I don't remember who she lives with. She is a badass, though.

She says she doesn't want to move to the US because she doesn't want to date some "Brandon Walsh" type dude. THAT IS HER REASONING. Obvi, homegirl didn't think that DYLAN is also in the US, but WHATEVER. Steve Sanders might be a counterargument to the argument I just made, so carry on.

At one point, she goes to visit her parents in the States and has to go to some benefit for Israel (?) with all these rich Jewz. And she narrates that she doesn't understand why all these rich Jews just throw money at Israel and pretend that they love it so much even though they DON'T LIVE THERE! A.B. Yehoshua, is that you?

I wish I could find this book! I'd write in to Fine Lines at Jezebel, but unfortch, Israeli young adult novels are not their specialty.

I hope that sharing my affinity for this book has given you more insight into who I am. And if you know the title of this book, you know what to do! (Find it and read it. It'll "change your life," in a Zach-Braff-film kinda way).

Google Times

Someone googled "ice cube fashion tel aviv" to find my blog. I'd say that's the most accurate description of mfthewebsite that I've ever seen!

Last Cigarettes...

I have been in a Wilco phase like whoa. In particular, I've been listening to "We're Just Friends" on repeat, but also just listening to Yankee Hotel Foxtrot constantly. Perhaps it's because Wilco reminds me of Texas, and I'm missing summer days of swimming/eating enchiladas at Trudy's/falling asleep/vintage shopping/beer. Perhaps it's because the song We're Just Friends is so heartbreaking! Call a waaaambulance for me, pls.



It's just so sad! He doesn't want to be just friends, but he's deluding himself! Oh god!

Hey, It's the '90s!

I've been keeping these vintage Aviv Geffen videos up in my tabs all day, and they're making me Internet slow, so it's time to unleash them onto you. The vids are from one of my favorite shows from childhood--Inyan shel Zman ("A Matter of Time"). The show is about cool Israeli '90s high school kids with ratty hair, who I always wished I could be. Basically my move to Israel is just me trying to be a '90s Israeli teenager.





(Ah, her leather jacket is AMAZING.)

Aw, shit, I'll just throw this in as well: This next vid is Yermi Kaplan's Kvar Achshav (which is on the radio all the time). It was the theme song for another '90s classic show, Hafuch ("Upside Down"). I don't even remember what this show was about, except that post-army Israeli characters traveling in India were somehow involved. Naturally.



(Also, yikes, what is the deal with his hair? Eeek.)

(Oh, and all the characters' dresses--omg!)

Finally Facing My Waterloo

Everyone who knows me IRL knows I love to ham it up in kareoke with my terrible voice. Singing badly in public is something I just like to do.

Another thing I like is the movie-musical Mamma Mia. Embarrasingly enough, I have seen it five times in theaters. One of those times was a sing-a-long at Alamo Drafthouse where I sat on my row's table, facing the entire theather, and did a Collin Firth impersonation as he sang Our Last Summer. That is how strongly I feel about Mamma Mia.

For my little brother's fifteenth birthday, I recorded the ABBA song Slipping Through My Fingers (which is in Mamma Mia), but with my own lyrics. My friend Aaron helped me record it at the film school at UT, in what he told me was a soundproof room. Apparently the room wasn't soundproof at all and people were asking WTF the noises from inside were. Aaron didn't laugh the entire time but later told me he only did that so I wouldn't feel self-conscious, and that my singing was the most redic thing he'd ever heard.

At my goodbye party in Austin, I performed Slipping Through My Fingers for some reason to a bajillion people. The proof:


The point of all this information is that I have found my Internet twin:



She also does a really bad Shakira impression.

If she starts making mouse videos, I'm outta here.

Out of Control!

I cannot handle how over-the-top the Survivor finale is right now.

My sister took this incredibly flattering picture of me watching the show.

Thank god Netali was voted off. I voted for Arik in the last minute. OMG WHO WILL WIN? I die.

The Transitions in This Blog Post Are Lacking

Things have been rather quiet on ye olde mfthewebsite. That's because one of my only readers, my little sister, is visiting me from Obamaland. I "blog" to her on a regular basis by "talking," so "blogging" seems rather redundant.

I will say this, though: Visiting your favorite serene artists' village is not as fun once you realize the artists created this village by taking over "abandoned" Arab houses. The visit is further dampened by your realization that all the Arab owners of the houses live 5 minutes away in a makeshift village of their own.

But the Dada museum in the Ein Hod Artists' Village is still pretty cool. Check it out.

I will also say this: The Survivor finale is coming up, and I barely even care who's going to win. What is happening to the world? And how will I pass the time after Survivor ends? Only time will tell.

I will finish with this video:

Reason for video: An obnoxious blond with a Paris-Hilton-like baby voice and a tiny puppy was parading herself around the cafe where my sister and I were eating breakfast. After a while, I realized she was Rony Superstar, the lamest Israeli pop sensation of all time, and singer of the "song" in the video above. I'm still embarrassed by the lameness level of Israeli celebs I recognize.

Oh, that reminds me: I went to see Yona Wallach: The Play the other day. They actually performed Tefillin (though without the last stanza for some reason). And they performed Strawberries, one of my favorite poems. The play was aight, though I think they could've done a lot more with the poems. I also think I should've been able to watch Tefillin performed without giggling. This was not the case, unfortch.

Mehover

I have gotten a She's-All-That-style makeover so I can win Homecoming Queen. This makeover includes new, dorkier glasses, and hair befitting of early-90's-Mariah-Carey and/or Russell Brand.

The evidence is to your left.

My hairdresser was a crazy older guy with short gray hair cut in a triangle shape the middle of his head, and shoulder-length gray hair on the sides. He was dancing around while cutting my hair and did his best to give me a Jewfro. Israeli hairdressers are out of control. I was very entertained indeed.

My goal of becoming the physical embodiment of the following song is now underway. (Song starts at 0:40).

This Thing is Like That Thing

Sometimes, living in Israel feels like the following video. The video is about pay discrimination between the sexes, but I'm just talking about how living in Israel feels like for a person, not a woman.


Now if I had to go on about what it feels like to be a woman in Israel, that'd be a whole other post. A post filled with descriptions of people talking to you about beating women (almost every day!), people trotting out cliches about all the things women "can't do," and people thinking of slutty bachelorhood as some sort of male-only thing (that one just confuses me).

Overbearing/Upsetting/Funny

My day in Tel Aviv today included:

1. I was walking by my house and yawned, as I often do. A storeowner got out of his store and said "Cover your mouth while you're yawning or a fly will get in there!" I wish this was the first time a stranger on the street in Israel told me to cover my mouth while yawning.

2. This is really upsetting: I walked out of my house and saw a cat lying down and moving around in the middle of the road. I thought he was just hanging out, but then I saw all this blood around him. He was dying! I called my cousin who has a lot of experience with animal shelters and asked her if there's a service I can call who can take the cat to an animal hospital. She said no! It was so disturbing. Poor cat.

3. I was waiting for a sherut (mini-bus cab) and these two girls walk by and stand on the road in front of me. At first, I thought they were trying to steal my sherut when it comes by, and that I'd have to fight them for it, and that it'd be annoying. Then I realized they were hookers trying to get a "free ride" somewhere. They kept stopping traffic by talking to potential johns, who didn't even pull over for some reason. There was a traffic jam because of all this potential hooking. Let's hope Richard Gere stops for them.

In conclusion, Tel Aviv can be summed up by overbearing strangers, dying cats, and hookers.

All the Problems in My Life Are Now Solved

The biggest problem in my life used to be "Where do I put all the important forms and other pieces of paper that I need for stuff?" Then I got a box filled with folders (that stand upright, and that are all labeled) and my life changed forever. I even took the box-o-folders with me to Israel even though it was super heavy and I didn't have room for it.

After I moved to Israel, I was presented with a new problem: not knowing army abbreviations. My theory is that if I knew army abbreviations, I could get whatever I want in this country. It's like having an inside joke with the vast majority of people you encounter! ZOMG! I could charm salespeople to give me discounts; I could successfully hit on every guy; and I could tell so many great jokes. I would be a winner. Well, today, I found the solution to all of life's problems. Readers, I present you with a wiki list of army terms!

I can die happy now.

With My Teeth Clenched Against the Next Assault of the Unfamiliar

On the bus (wow, every story I tell begins with that phrase), I often see women (they're always women) reading and chanting from a Bible-looking book of some sort of Jewish verses? It creeps me out. While I do not have a book of Jewish verses (or whatever that book is), I do carry my personal Bible with me: the autobiography Lost in Translation: Life in a New Language by Eva Hoffman. Praise it.

The Book tells Eva's story as a young daughter of Holocaust survivors in post-WWII Cracow, Poland. It then goes on to tell the story of her life from the lens of her immigration. When Eva was 13, she moved to vancouver with her family. She later went to Rice University in Houston, and way later went to Harvard for grad school (studied literature, obvi). She then lived in NYC for a while, and I hear that now she lives in London.

I first read Lost in Translation in my Lit of Exile class my sophomore year. I was especially obnoxious in that class and would get mad whenever my bright-eyed, bushy-tailed freshmen classmates would say anything too annoyingly American. I'm sure a few people in that class hated me.

I took the class because the syllabus featured The Unbearable Lightness of Being, which was my fave book before LiT came along (yes, I was a stereotypical 18-year-old who loved Milan Kundera and esp. Karenin the dog, shuttup). But then I read LiT and Kundera didn't stand a chance.

While reading LiT, I would often go back to my journals and find passages that described exact experiences to Eva Hoffman's (much less eloquently written, natch). I felt like for the first time in my life, I was finally reading the story of someone who was a lot like me. No other book before or since describes so completely the vertigo of immigration. Immigrant writers usually skip over the specific weakness and alienation they feel, though it often seeps into their work in more indirect ways. Eva just deals with it head-on.

And finally, a female character I could relate to. This is the Holy Grail for those of us caught Reading While Penis-less (RWP is a great offense to most authors, you see).

I relate to so many aspects of Eva, but most of all, I relate to her bitchiness and cattiness toward people.

Exhibit A, P. 203: "In the conversation of my friends, I sniff out cultural cliches like a hound on the scent of hostile quarry. An innocent remark like 'Well, I don't know what to tell you, it really depends on how you feel' provokes in me the most bitter reflections on American individualism, and how a laissez-faire tolerance can mask a callous indifference."

Sing it, sister.

These days, I'm concerned, because mine and Eva's paths have diverged. She continued living in the US after college/grad school. I, on the other hand, moved back to my pre-teen homeland, am not in grad school at all, and have no direction for my life. The last pages of her book are even more poignant to me now that I'm no longer in the States:

"As long as the world around me has been new each time, it has not become my world; I lived with my teeth clenched against the next assault of the unfamiliar. But now, the year has assumed an understandable sequence within which I play the variations of a professional New York life. The social world in which I move has comprehensible elements and dimensions. I am no longer mystified by the rules and rituals of friendship and love . . . Pattern is the soil of significance; and it is surely one of the hazards of emigration, and exile, and extreme mobility, that one is uprooted from that soil."

Waaaah. As a person who is still mystified by the rules of friendship and love, and who constantly uproots myself from my soil, I am so jeal. I want so badly for my life to finally become familiar and orderly instead of being so full of strangeness. I want to master Hebrew like Eva mastered English. Actually, I'd like to master both Hebrew and English, if possible. I want her success, her pride, and her ability to be so sure of herself.

For a while in college, I assumed that just like Eva, I'd go on to graduate school in literature, and then get married and divorced and have no kids. I almost saw the book as some sort of prophecy for my life--a prophecy I was a little scared of, to be honest. But now, the book is becoming less and less relatable. I can't fit my experiences into the schema of assimilating into US culture and mastering it. Instead, I'm in this mindfuck of trying to fit into my home-yet-not-home land while also trying to maintain my assimilation skillz of yesteryear. I'm trying to be Nabokov when I could just as well end up a boring cultureless loser.

So here I am, mourning my Bible's status as the book of my heart. No matter, I'm sure another one will come along soon enough.

Slow Clap

I cannot stop watching this video or singing this song in my head. The video might not make sense if you don't know Hebrew (or if you do know Hebrew, actually), but it's a satire on hasbara (the Israeli government's "PR" around the world). What I like about it is that it's vague enough that half the people don't get that it's a joke. That is my favorite type of video.


The video comes from Eretz Nehederet ("Our Great Country"), a fake news show in Israel--like the Daily show, but much darker. I don't know how I haven't mentioned this before, but one of their recurring sketches is called May's Blog. The character May is a blond, bitchy, and rich Israeli teenager who forces her friend to be bulimic. Naturally.

I ROBOT

My last two journeys to Northern Israel were rudely interrupted by "suspicious objects." In Israel, whenever someone leaves a bag lying around anywhere (bag = suspicious object), the police takes it and BLOWS IT UP USING A ROBOT. A robot! Everyone has to stand really far away while the kewl robot blows up the object, and then you go about your business, while all day you imagine ways to decorate the robot and befriend it.

I think this robot is really cool. Here's a short video of the robot walking around, waiting to blow some shit up:



The other day, after I was stuck in traffic due to robot happenings, I saw the robot go into its police car post-suspicious-object check. It was rolling around into the car, Wall-E style! I think this robot will one day take over the world.

Recently, I went into a bus station, and everyone was standing outside the station, and there was all this police around. I start freaking out and hide behind a tree (?) because I'm scared. Turned out it was just a suspicious object. I love how Israelis are always just standing around nonchalantly when these things happen, while I'm hyperventilating, running around in circles (seriously), and hiding behind trees.

Here is a video of Israelis standing around all cool, watching the robot:

I act most like the girl with the scarf who's blocking her ears.

My last and most important point (it's always important to save your coolest point for last) is that there is a very funny PSA on youtube about suspicious objects (a SO is called a chefetz chashud in Hebrew). The best part is the last two seconds, when the girl's 40-year-old cigarette smoker's voice is revealed. The second best part is when suspicious objects are shown while cheesy sitcom music plays. Here it is in all its glory:


I have nothing else to say.

Smell you later.

The Change Has Come

So, naturally, for May 1, I went to the kibbutz, to experience socialism in action. Actually, the particular kibbutz I went to is no longer socialist, but it's the thought that counts.

I went to Kibbutz Eilon, where I was born, and where my dad was born. Going to my dad's kibbutz always makes me feel so cool, because everyone knows who I am and talks to me. This rarely happens in kibbutzim, where people are generally snobs who don't talk to strangers.

I went to the kibbutz bar (10 shekels for a glass of wine. OMG.) and I didn't need to be introduced to people because I'm "an F." so they already knew, apparently. I also was educated about the different types of avocado, and about a field day that kibbutznikim from Eilon call a "shtafetta." Yeah, I dunno. I offered people the little gossip I had about the kibbutz, and asked everyone who their parents were, so I could tell my parents whose kids I saw (this is all my parents will ask me about the next few days, I'm sure).

Everyone at the kibbutz was very happy that I voted Meretz in the election, and did not laugh at me when I told them I volunteer with Peace Now.

This has been my essay on why the kibbutz is super cool, awesome, and gnarly.

And now for something completely different. It is fun to watch this video and pretend that all the girls in the audience are fainting from the sheer idiocy of the lyrics. They are also trying to get on stage to punch Jagger in the face. The Rolling Stones should hope they never see me on the street and find out the way I talk when I'm spoken to. Because it's not very nice. The way I talk. When I'm spoken to. By the Rolling Stones. Fuck this song. Though it's good. Yet the lyrics suck.


PS Doesn't Mike Litt kinda dance like Mick Jagger? Anyone from Austin who still reads may blog, let me know what you think about this matter.

EDIT: Who am I kidding? He's totally Pirtle--that's who the dancing reminds me of. A Mike and Pirtle combo, I guess?

F that S

Sometimes, having lots of holidays off of work kind of sucks. I thought I would love all the holidays in Israel, but this week was just draining. The Yom Ha'Shoah/Yom Ha'Zikaron/Yom Ha'atzmaut combo is a little too much for my frail mind to take.

Plus, why does everyone in this country insist on being such rabid misogynists? It makes me want to start a riot grrrrl band. I just want to be talked to like a regular human being, instead of feeling like some pretty, pretty princess who gets dolled up to go out and giggle at everyone's jokes or some shit. Barf-o.

In conclusion, this week, with its mouse, its people-making-fun-of-my-mouse-videos, and its psychological mindfuck of holidays, ain't done me no good.

I am longing for American holidays, holidays that are about nothing but shopping, even when they pretend to be about something else. Actually, no I'm not. Writing that sentence just made me feel a lot better about living in Israel. Problem solved.

Trapped!

Mousecapades, part 2










He's sideways, but you get the gist.

The Mouse!!!

Here is a reality-tv-confessional video/vlog/whatever that I made because I am scared of the mouse in my apartment. And yes, my voice sounds like Kermit and my hands are weird. Shuttup. And I'm stuffed up in this video, so weird breathing, too. Deal with it.

I'm Not Cryin', It's Just Been Raining . . . on My Face

Just now, I cried during Survivor again. The show brought the contestants' loved ones to the island for a mission, and the reunions were just as melodramatic as any other Israeli interaction ever. Everyone was running toward their loved one in slow-mo and then the camera spun around the two figures hugging and crying. It's like, chill, you haven't seen your family for 40 days. Big whoop. But whaevs. When one girl hugged her mommy, I shed a tear. I am whack.

The pic above is of Yoav, this lame-ass who is obsessed with his girlfriend
"Jackie." He talks about her constantly and cries about the fact that she's not with him. Their reunion cracked me up.

I'm Hungry

Whenever people see a skeletal looking person, they say that person should "eat a sandwich or something." Why? Sandwiches never fill me up. They're not even real food. How about a big tub 'o creamy pasta with mushrooms? Yum. Or a big steak with mashed potatoes? Or even a big salad with some bread?

But a sandwich? Puh-lease.

The Britney Spears Film "Crossroads" Has Gone Nuthin on This

I'm going to Petra! Yippee!Let's hope I don't get desert madness and start shooting my gun into the sky a la Yoni in A Perfect Peace. Uhhh, spoiler alert?

CULTS: They're So "Crazy" and Completely Different from Us!

Yesterday, I hung out with my parents' friend Raia (yes, I hang out with my parents' friends, shuttup) and had Shabbat dinner. Then, we watched a news expose on cults in Israel. David Koresh was mentioned. I enjoyed the Waco shout-out. The report also called messianic Judaism a cult, but I immediately fell asleep at that point, since it was just like listening to my friend Baruch tell lullaby-like stories of his messianic family. Go figure.

The reporters kept caling all the cults mentioned "crazy" and "insane" without really explaining what makes people join cults or what the cult leaders were even preaching. It was a very non-enlightening report.

One thing that caught my attention, though, was the reporter's focus on all the incentives that cult leaders provide their followers. They often lure followers with monetary support and tell them they'll find love/a partner in the cult.

This reminded me of this large intentional community in the Middle East that lures Jewish youth into it using monetary grants, educational subsidies, and the promise of Jewish love.

See what I did there?

Shabbat = Useless

I am so useless on Shabbat. As soon as I wake up Friday morning, I know nothing will get done that day.

And then Saturday I sit and mope around, wondering why this day has to happen every week. It's almost like I sit and mope in order to REBEL against Shabbat.

Nothing is open (except for stupid Aroma and their stupid loud music), and Tel Aviv looks like a ghost town. Especially now, with everyone being out of town for Pesach.

At least I cleaned my house today. In Tel Aviv, things in apartments--or at least, things in my apartment--are permanently covered by a fine layer of dust. Achoo. It's dumb.

In conclusion, resting after six days of creating the universe = worst idea ever.

Yo Ya

Oh my! There is so much to write about in ye olde blog, and so little time. And by "so little time," I mean "it's Passover break at teh office and I can write on the blog all day except that I might go camping on the Dead Sea so never mind!"

Even though it's old news, I must tell you more about Tel Aviv's 100th birthday celebrations. But I won't right now.

And there is so much to be said about Passover on the kibbutz, but, again, that will have to wait.

Instead, I've decided to compile, for your viewing pressure, some choice Israeli music videos that crack me up every time. This was going to be a Top 10 countdown of Israeli vids on YouTube, but I ended up finding a bunch of completely random videos that hold no relation to each other. So I will bullet these instead of numbering them (which I should always do anyway, otherwise some people start thinking I said they're the best when I didn't mean to).

So, here are some random, hilar Israeli vids:

• What can I say? I have a special place in my heart for Israeli faux new wave.

• Israel won the Eurovision song contest with this song. In the chorus, the singer says "I love you" with a "b" sound after every syllable. Hence, "abanibi obonebev obotabach" instead of "ani ohev otach." Who thought of this, and why?

• Eurovision never fails to bring the lols. This is my favorite Israeli Eurovision video of all time. The guy in the background in 1:25 is a particular fave. Mesmerizing. Also, Jewfros.
  

• Last year, my BFF Sarah became obsessed with this song by famed Israeli tranny Dana International. She made me listen to it non-stop. In time, I have come to appreciate its ridiculosity, esp. when dude-with-yamakkah shows up mid-vid. By the way, this song is about male prostitutes.
  

• One of my favorite shows as a kid was "Lo Kolel Sherut" (Gratuity Not Included), about a group of waiters in Tel Aviv. The show had a musical component. Elinor Aharon's Hebrew version of "Like a Prayer" also comes from this show. (That song is not in this list because it is simply TOO awesome.)

This song depicts a girl looking completely blase even though she's singing about sensual lovin:

• I die.

• Arik Einstein, the king. I've already posted a bunch of his videos on the blog, but here's one more, for misogyny's sake.

• I said I wasn't going to number these, but I lied. This is the #1 best Israeli video of all time. I got a few of my Austin friends completely hooked on this song. It makes me so giddy, so giddy, so Gidi Gov.

That is all, my friends. Next time, I'll post my favorite Israeli videos: children's video edition. Moments from the Israeli Jungle Book Musical will be included.

In other news, I can't find my coat, and I am really starting to think that bitch from the picture below really has stolen it. Identity thief!

Tel Aviv: Now Dressing Like M.F.

I just got back from my Passover trip to Kibbutz Sasa. When I walked into the apartment, my window was slightly ajar. I think this woman was here while I was gone, and stole all my clothes. She did not find those shoes here, however.

Source: http://israblog.nana10.co.il/tblogread.asp?blog=387973

Today, Tel Aviv is celebrating its 100th birthday at Rabin Square. My roommate is part of the show--he's rollerblading it. (Heh.)

So here's to Tel Aviv: the non-stop honking outside my window, the scary kitties and their kitty fights, the people riding motorcycles on sidewalks and almost running me over, the pretty trees (desert, ur blooming), the beach, the beautiful men that walk down Rothschild (nom nom nom), the cute puppehz, the random Orthodox people, the shuk, the free shots at bars (you are a blessing and a curse), the people who are nice to lefty activists on the street, the Russian prostitutes, the bougie cafes, the sketchiness, the hummus, the vintage clothes, the French people (just kidding, they're annoying), the construction, the ugly-ass graffiti, and the old people who yell at me on the bus.

HERE IS TO YOU.

Fashun

Despite the fact that I am a slob and a half who walks around with bags under my eyes, chapped lips, and huge zits on my face like I just don't give a fuck, I am still very into FASHION and PRETTY THINGS. I read many fashion-heavy blogs, like www.pennyplastic.com and becauseimaddicted.net. And I read many blogs by girls who somehow look done up at all times (like Tracie Egan). I always thought bloggers were supposed to be hanging out in their pajamas, but all these girls on teh webz look immaculate. WTF?

Well, you know what, enough is enough. I think that the Internet should be filled with images of sloppy, sloppy apartments and the people who sit around in them typing on the Internet.





Am I the only girl with a website who takes day-long naps (Wednesday, I'm talking about you) and sits around in her pajamas all day?

I'm hot 'cause I'm fly

Preparing for a messy Passover

Male dominated

New theme of my life: Misogyny in Action.

My usual reaction to misogyny is to obsessively listen to NWA and 2Pac, but pretend the misogynist lyrics are about men instead of women.

I'm very mature.

Note:

"M.F., I think your blog has potential, but your posts need to be longer. You need to talk about more than hand-holding on buses. You also need to mention more often that False Dichotomies is your favorite website." -Alex Stein, falsedichotomies.com

DOG

While walking down Rotschild, it's fun to pretend you are the ghost doggiez from Waltz With Bashir

(They hit up my hood at about 1:07 or so).

P.S.

There's so much I've been wanting to write about (besides all the awkward moments I've experienced as of late), but I can't seem to put my feely feeeelings into words. I keep trying to write long, involved bloggies, but then I delete them. Maybe I should try performance art? An interpretive dance, perhaps? We all know how much I love those...
Okay, so here are my feelings: You know when you're a kid, and you have all these fantasies about what being an adult will be like? Most of my fantasies were about being a kewl n hip Israeli in Tel Aviv, going to trance parties and wearing bright red Doc Martens. And getting a blue streak in my hair. And smoking cigarettes. And having a huge curly fro. And drinking coffee.

Well, I feel like I am fulfilling all my childhood fantasies. Maybe not all the particular ones I just listed, but, ya know, the general feel of my life is the same as the fantasy. Of course, my real life has way more reality-TV watching and Internet time-wasting than the childhood fantasy. But then again, I didn't know there would be reality TV or the Internet when I'd be an adult, so there.

Time to go look for Doc Martens on eBay! Byez.

Raining on My Drum Circle Parade

So I'm complaining to a family friend's son about how my social life in Israel is subpar, and I go on and on about it. Then I complain about wanting more furniture for my apartment. Then we talk about some other things. Then he's like "so up until a year ago, for four years I lived all alone in the woods and the beach and barely talked to anyone." Way to steal my thunder.

The tile! The tile!

As soon as I get home from work and sit on the couch, I can't do shit. I just sit there for hours and ponder the meaning of life (even though I totes have things to do, guys).

Why is this?

Oh yeah, the tile.

Staring at this as soon as you get home will make you act like a stoner even if you're not. Trust.

Watchin' things, feelin' feelings

I have been a little off for the past few days. I cried a little during a Survivor episode in which all the contestants talk about missing their families and show personal objects they brought from home. To reiterate, I cried during a reality show. At least it wasn't America's Next Top Model.

I also got way too much zest for life while watching a Sex and the City season two episode (which I've never watched before--how could it be?). The episode was all about empowering yourself while being alone, blah blah blah. At the end of the ep, Carrie sits at a cafe and gets a glass of wine alone with "no man, no girlfriends, no book, no armor, ALONE." Usually these types of sentences in Sex and the City ruin the show for me. But I was like, "YEAH! I can sit at cafes alone! AND DRINK WINE! I think I'll have some wine! Now! Wine! I mean, alone!" Anyways, I need help.

It didn't help that Carrie was dressed like this (while dancing retardedly):

Stole my summer 2k8 look.

Point is: I'm going to go watch more television now.

Braindead, I Is

Yawn. Ever since I moved into my apartment, I've mostly been:

1. Buying furniture
2. Needing food. Not having food. What to do?
3. Needing object x. Not remembering where it is or if I have it. Feeling confused.
4. Moping on the couch
5. Not sleeping
6. Being scared that there is a ghost in the apartment
7. Forgetting to do things
8. Cursing the Aroma across the street for playing retarded music (I curse you, Christina Aguilera!) at all times of the night. I might have to go all Israeli on them and walk there in my pajamas, yelling at the young employees that "there are people trying to sleep! You should be ashamed of yourself! Didn't your mother raise you right?"

Hopefully I will get my groove back at some point.

E-gads

As a new immigrant (or returning citizen, or whatever), I am always stressing about about which bus to take, where to buy food, what the deal is with the incredibly small lightbulbs here, and other basic things most people don't worry about.

I do not get enough sleep because of "teh stress." This means that at all times I'm more frazzled and awkward than usual. Sometimes my communication skills suffer, especially in Hebrew.

Needless to say, I've been experiencing moments like this daily:

Purim Conundrum!

Purim costume: Orthodox Jewish man a la:

Or Elinor Aharon in my favorite Youtube video of all time:

(Confession time: When I was six or seven I told everyone that when I was old enough, I would change my name to Elinor, because I was obsessed with this woman. Not much has changed, let me tell ya.)

Two months, what?

This past weekend was my two-month Israelversary. Can you believe it?

In my first blog post (http://mfthewebsite.blogspot.com/2008/12/hebrew-joke-book-yes-its-come-to-this.html) I detailed the ways I would cope with returning to my pseudo-homeland of awkwardness. Let's compare my plans to reality.

Coping strategy: Drinking a lot
Status: Accomplished. I even went on an awkward date with someone that I don't remember giving my phone number to, if that's any indication.

Coping strategy: The beach
Status: Accomplished. I sit on top of pretty cliffs while I read, smoke cigarettes, and marvel over the sunset. What have you ever done?

Coping strategy: Smoking nargila
Status: Meh. Cheap cigarettes from the shuk have been more my thing. I've only smoked nargila once since I've gotten here. But that one time was fabulous!

Coping strategy: Watching 30 Rock obsessively
Status: Very, very accomplished. The other day I went to work on three hours of sleep because I caught up on 30 Rock episodes. Blergh.

Coping strategy: Watching Israeli TV
Status: I am addicted to the Israeli version of Survivor. I have even toyed with the idea of making recap episodes for this blog. I am that obsessed. Help.

Coping strategy: Memorizing IDF abbreviations
Status: I memorized one but I already forgot it.

Coping strategy: Buying a Hebrew joke book
Status: I only communicate through the joke book, naturally.


So as we can see, things are going completely according to plan. Yes.

I sat next to this guy on the bus today. At one point, his girlfriend also got on the bus, while I was talking on the phone.

Dude was sitting in the window seat, I sat by him, and his girlfriend was standing. They were holding hands behind my back.

When I got off the phone, I asked the guy if he wanted to switch seats with me so he could sit by his girlfriend (I wasn't going to give up my seat, duhz). It was only after I got off the phone that I even realized they were a couple, you see.

The guy said nah, that they were getting off the bus soon. The girl said I was very sweet for offering.

So I kept sitting there in the middle while they were holding hands behind my back.

This is probably some sort of metaphor for my life.

Overheard in Tel Aviv

Girl on the bus, who, by the way, was speaking English every other sentence to sound kewl: "I heard there's a rat infestation in Tel Aviv right now. Oh my god, if I see a rat, I'm moving to London!"

And then you would avoid rats how?

I want to write a bigger post on this later, but here's an initial thought: I dearly miss all my friends from Austin, and I miss the city of Austin, but I don't miss the larger "scene," for lack of a better term. I know I could've avoided the larger social scene somehow when I lived there, but well, I did not, and it's nice to be out.

The four years I spent in my fair city were fabulous, but sometimes (mostly through things like facebook), I get reminded of all the yucky things I have not been missing.

With all the difficulties of moving to Israel, there's just something so right about it, so non-yucky, and--forgive me for my diction, but I've been hanging out a lot with my hippie friend--something very pure.

Israel is . . . calming to me.

(Note: This is the first time ever that someone typed that last sentence on the Internet.)