- The summer continues….my co-workers and I are all over the country following our groups around and putting out proverbial fires (ech omrim “proverbial fires”?) I love the phrase “the shetach (field)”. Every time I say I’m in the shetach, it sounds like I’m camouflaged crawling through mud in Lebanon, when in actuality I’m buying Imodium with my kupah ktana (petty cash). Eat your heart out, IDF.
If we’re talking about Imodium, somebody must be in the shetach. (When “easier to open” is a selling point, are we taking the marketing too far?
Who’s having trouble accessing their anti-diarrheal medicine?)
- Recently I couldn’t find something in the office. Before I made an admittedly dark joke about Ron Arad, I asked my co-workers if these jokes are ok in Israel. They said no. So lemme get this straight: that’s off-limits, but Holocaust jokes are not??? Please explain. At that point, how is ANYTHING off limits? (Let’s thank the Ministry of Tourism for rejecting this national slogan: “Israel: Where Shoah Jokes are Funny.”)
- When writing a budget code on a voucher, I discovered reason #134 that I am becoming Israeli. In addition to catching myself silently counting in Hebrew, I have begun occasionally writing my “1”s and “7”s Israeli-style with the former having a little tail at the top and the latter crossed. However I also think that middle-aged women with their hair dyed red is the tackiest thing in the world so maybe I’m not a local after all. (This really deserves its own post someday.)
Seriously…NO, SERIOUSLY…make it stop.
- Maybe this isn’t work-related but my friend Ari recently sent me this email:
In about 5 minutes both installation guys from HOT and YES will be competing in my apartment. This is going to be epic. Want me to take pictures of them together? Maybe have like a reality show obstacle course?
I suggested a picture of them kissing with a caption of “See, Arabs and Jews…anything is possible.” It didn’t happen.
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