Israel Blog | What War Zone?

Sunday, August 22, 2010

"Wake Up in the Mornin' Feelin' Like Charedi"

While I may be a little more out of it than I used to be (thank you, living abroad and not listening to the radio regularly since selling my car in 2003....oh yes, and getting older), I'd have to be pretty out of it to not recognize the ubiquitous "Tik Tok" from Ke$ha. Aside from being a huge hit worldwide, it's featured in a recurring sketch on Israeli comedy show "Eretz Nehederet" and also made an appearance in that Youtube video from Hebron.

Despite her international popularity, apparently something is still lost in translation with the spelling of her name. Here's how it appeared on TV recently courtesy of a local cable channel.

"Befohr I leeve, brahsh my teeth weeth a bohtel ahv.....ehhhhhhhh....."

Here's an example of why some things just don't need to be translated. I thought about explaining it but that would of course make it less funny. Commenters, be my guest.

Thanks, Stefanie, for the pic!

Monday, August 09, 2010

Just Your Average Four-Year Aliyah Anniversary Blog Post (Would I Lie?)

Here I sit, in seat 45A....Someone asked me this morning how I was feeling and remarked that she would have been freaking out. When you’ve been mentally preparing for a move for so many months, especially for one that’s presumably exciting and meaningful, at some point there’s nothing more you can do than to relax and enjoy it. Everything’s done-I just had to get in the cab and head to the airport. (Check back in with me in a few days when I’m having to buy furniture, grocery shop, and figure out how to translate “Doctor, my small intestine is inflamed.” I was shockingly calm at the airport. Perhaps because I’ve been to Israel so many times already? Because I was emotionally spent? Who knows...it hasn’t sunk in that I’m starting yet another chapter of my life but after moving to New York, how big of an adjustment can it be?
-Some Dumb Oleh, August 10, 2006

Hello, boys and girls-what were you doing four years ago? I was making aliyah. And I don't mean that in the way my old co-worker and I used to mean it. When we worked together in NY, that became our secret euphemism for, ahem, dropping a shtayim. (Women, don't ask why, because we're men.)

(In crowded meeting room)
Co-worker: "Can you call Mrs. Fishgluck back after the staff meeting?"
Some Dumb Pre-Oleh: "I gotta make aliyah first."

Or...

Co-worker: "Want to go to Subway to grab lunch?"
Me: "Gimme five minutes. I'm feeling Zionist."

"Nefesh B'Nefesh, how may I help you?"

No, REALLY, four years ago today, I was making aliyah, leaving JFK and landing at Ben-Gurion on August 10th, 2006. I was telling someone this morning that the aliyaversary feels almost as significant as a birthday or Rosh Hashana in terms of its meaning as a major milestone. For someone who wasn't always completely sure if he'd make it to four years, it's a big deal. Actually, it would be more accurate to say I wasn't sure I'd make it to one year; I don't think I ever wondered about "four."

I don't need to explain to anyone who's made aliyah what this milestone means. At least, not to anyone who's made aliyah "by choice". Who knows, maybe Ethiopians think, "Four years of refrigeration! This is FANTASTIC!" I have no idea. For Anglos, the first few aliyaversaries are probably more along the lines of, "Wow, I have made it/enjoyed/survived another year of excitement/missing family and friends/adventure/wanting to shoot myself in the head when dealing with _________. I can't believe how far I've come."

"All the freiers in the house say ho. HOOOOOOOOOO!"
(Look how young and innocent I looked. By the way, just hours later, my orange shirt and I moved to Gush Katif.)

When anyone asks me about anything requiring long-term perspective, I have usually responded that it's hard for me to even see a year in the future. Whereas back in the States, I might feel like this is the thirty-fi....COUGH....twenty-seventh year of my life, here I think more in terms of it being my fourth year of my aliyah. As a 35 year-old American, I would definitely own a car and have a good mastery of the native language (naw, fer serius, ya'll, I wud). As a first-year oleh? Not yet. And instead of wondering where I'm going to be ten years from now as a potential employer might ask, I instead continue to appreciate the time I've been here and the things I've accomplished which my brain wouldn't have been able to wrap its arms around four years ago. (Ok, am I mixing metaphors there? Who's with me, here's to forgetting English over the last four years? Do American brains have arms? If not, what do they wrap around things?)

The fact that my aliyaversary falls close to my birthday, the chagim, and oh yes, the beginning of this here blog means that the years are very clearly delineated to me. Even moreso, because two of my years ended (and began) with a summer at camp in the US.

Year 1: worked for Young Judaea, stressful Jewish non-profit work, lived in Tel Aviv.
Year 2: started doing more creative stuff, mindless and low-stress English-related odd jobs (online gambling, anyone?), TA, followed by a return to stressful non-profit work
Year 3: the big move to Jerusalem for my job, did the most stressful job of my entire life, wanted to jump off Masada on a daily basis
Year 4: recovered from Year 3, made room in my heart for Jerusalem next to Tel Aviv, became self-employed (welcome back, online gambling! nice to see you again, Young Judaea! hello, Jewish Agency, MASA, Nefesh B'Nefesh, and other stuff)....oh, and there was also that thing that rhymes with "first Shmisraeli smirlfriend." (There, it only took four years to talk about my dating life on this website. But if that doesn't belong on the list of aliyah accomplishments, I don't know what does. Oh, yes, I do-standing in line at Mr. Zol and not wanting to carry out Operation Cast Lead Foot Up Their Collective Asses.)

Without going into details about what NBN does (check out the website for more info), one of the benefits they provide is an easy absorption process without a lot of the nightmarish bureaucratic stuff.
-Big Sucker, August 10, 2006. He didn't say "ALL of the nightmarish stuff", just a lot of it.

Nope, no stress here, move right along...

Each year has had its own feel and this one has been no different. Since I didn't have a normal office job with a full-time employer, it's definitely had more of an ambiguous feeling that I haven't yet been able to fit into a nicely labeled box. More than just Year 4, I kind of look at this as Year 1 of being self-employed.

Read over Years 1-3 again. Count how many times the word "stress" appears. I decided in Year 1 that if I wasn't happy here, what was the point? I realized probably in Year 3 that one of the underrated parts of making aliyah is that afterwards, you can easily justify every subsequent decision. After uprooting yourself and moving halfway around the world to this crazy country, what could possibly be difficult? Quitting my day job and making ends meet trying to do stuff that makes me happy? Fuggedaboutit. Bye bye, high-pressure work environments.

This past year, working on my own, I was somehow able to not starve, doing all kinds of stuff to earn shekels from stand-up shows in the US for the first time on my own, to doing this promotional video for Fring, and from staffing weekend seminars for MASA and the Jewish Agency, to doing improv and sketch shows with Hahafuch (see recent write-up).

This next year? Let's just say Daddy needs to bring home a little more of the kosher bacon. If you're a life coach who wants to offer me your services in exchange for high-fives and blog shout-outs, be in touch. Otherwise, I'll just have to trust that this past year of figuring stuff out and planting seeds will bear more fruit. (If that's the case, next year's Year 5 blog post will be very boring.)

Speaking of fruit, who can identify this one? For the answer, click here to read a most entertaining blog post from the past.

IN SHORT, every time I return from a visit, it’s never long enough. I know about a jillion people who feel the same way and wish they had the opportunity or had taken the opportunity earlier in their life to spend some more time in Israel. I decided that I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wishing I had spent some part of my life living in the land of chumus and Pesek Zman chocolate bars.
-First-ever "chumus" reference in What War Zone???'s first-ever post, August 8, 2010....is anybody surprised?

Aside from work? Despite the intentions of some well-meaning friends who clearly don't spend much time around me would have you believe (ech omrim "poor sentence structure"?), my Hebrew is not getting better, not to the surprise of my fellow members of the "We Refuse to Watch the News or Carry a Notebook and Did I Mention That I Don't Work in an Office Environment?" club. Well, guess what? Yiyeh b'seder. Ok, maybe not really, but how much can a guy stress over it after four years of stressing over it? Wait, what's that?! Could it be? Is anyone else picking up the smell of someone who kind of just used "yiyeh b'seder" to say "**** it"? That may actually be one of the truest signs that I'm turning Israeli. I hope after Year 5, my Hebrew will be better than it is today.

Car? Not yet.
Next year? Who knows.
Yiyeh b'seder.

Friends? Of course.
As good as those in the US? Shut up, internal monologue, I'm not in the US, remember? I made aliyah. I'm working on it. L'at, l'at.
Yiyeh b'seder.

Podcast, t-shirt sales, video blog, children's chug, WhatWarZone.com hosted on Wordpress, and other stuff sitting on my to-do list for over a year?
Working on it.
And what the hell does that mean?
Ok, so at least I finally met with a web designer about my website.
So, b'kitzur, you haven't done jack-crap on the other stuff.
SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH, VOICES! YIYEH FREAKING B'SEDER!!!!!!!!!

"B'SEDEEEEEEER.....NOOOO PROH-BLEEEEEEEEEEM!!!!"

So maybe I don't know what the hell to do with my Facebook fan page, created in Year 4. And maybe I haven't gotten my rockin' t-shirts designed in Year 4 off that mega-pricey website so that people might actually buy them. And maybe I don't even know where my income is coming from to pay my accountant who I finally decided to hire in Year 4.

But I told you my #ish in Year 4 (go watch, I only have 48 fewer views than Screech), I staffed my first Birthright Israel trip in Year 4 (where I met the aforementioned Shmisraeli), and I somehow managed to come up with 62 MORE things I love about this country (I'm up to 183 overall and running out) in Year 4.

And most importantly? I'm good and getting better. I've had some tough times (Lord, have I) but I think I started to turn a corner this past year. (How many years does it take to feel settled, olim vatikim? Five?) I don't know where my life is going, I don't know what I'll be doing in six months, but man, it sure does make a good story and blog post, don't it?

So here's to four years of living in Israel, four years of being a freier, four years of life not being boring, four years of chasing dreams, and four years of wanting to blow up the Orange service center!

And if I DO have to call Orange 50 more times just to get hung up on 49 of them?

Yiyeh b'seder.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Israeli Drivers: Would You Hire These Guys?

Hello, my loyal readers-how art thou? I'm great. Had a relaxing weekend as usual. I realized something about my Shabbats in Jerusalem vs. Tel Aviv. In Tel Aviv, I remember it often being non-stop. Beach, errands at Dizengoff Center, coffee, lunch, hanging on Rothschild, BOOM BOOM BOOM.

In Jerusalem? If I have more than two or three social engagements the entire weekend, I feel too busy, that I didn't get to sit around on my tooseek enough. I'm definitely digging the weekend relaxation these days.

So after the fiasco at Mr. Zol last week, I realized something funny about this country (imagine that). You hear the same phrases when people are expressing joy towards Israel as when they're expressing frustration.

Getting off the plane for the first time at Ben-Gurion. "WELCOME TO ISRAEL!!!!!!!"

Woman cuts in line at Melech Falafel and then denies it: "Welcome to Israel."

Getting back on plane on last day to return home: "THIS COUNTRY IS UNBELIEVABLE!"

Reading about proposed conversion bill to alienate majority of world Jewry: "This country is unbelievable."

Anyway, here's a picture of an advertisement for motorcycle lessons. I've never ridden a Harley before but if I did, I imagine I would take my safety pretty seriously. But hey, that's me-I'm crazy that way. Tell me, please-does any part of this rider's expression make you want to use these guys?

Nothing like selecting a driving instructor who strikes the fear of G-d in you. If you can dismount looking like you just rented the house in "Poltergeist", why not? And if she happens to wear a strapless dress and heels while riding? Only one thing to say to that:

"Houston. We have a freicha."

Allright, off to take my motorcycle to Mr. Zol. I feel like raising my blood pressure today.

Thanks, Yoav.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

One Man's Rant Against An Evil Grocery Store (You Suck, Mr. Zol מר זול)

JESUS CHRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIST!!!!!!!!!!!!! Good news, people-I've found a way to jumpstart my blogginess. I just stood in line at the Mr. Zol (מר זול) in downtown Jerusalem and now want to commit mass murder. Is this why Hamas is so angry?

This is a public service announcement: DO NOT SHOP AT THE DOWNTOWN MR. ZOL IF YOU CAN HELP IT. I THINK MY BLOOD PRESSURE JUST ROSE TO FIVE MILLION OVER ONE THOUSAND. Every time I walk in there, I immediately look at the check-out area to see what's in store for me. (I would write "no pun intended" there if I didn't currently want to throw a piano out the window.) If it's too long, I'll just leave before they ruin my day. I SWEAR ON ALL THAT IS HOLY, I JUST STOOD IN POSSIBLY THE SLOWEST ONE-PERSON LINE I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE.

GOOD LORD! This woman ahead of me was pulling out large number of checks (to pay in tashlumim, "installments"; yes, we can do that here), she's filling out forms the likes of which have never been seen on this planet, the cashier is trying to help her figure out what to do, then running them through some kind of stamping machine.... Rinse, lather, repeat.

This scene passed through my mind albeit five million times less funny.

REALLY, ISRAEL? WE'RE THE START-UP NATION AND WE CAN'T FIGURE OUT A WAY TO MOVE A SINGLE PERSON THROUGH A LINE IN UNDER TEN MINUTES BEGINNING AFTER HER ITEMS HAVE BEEN SCANNED????? WE DEVELOPED THE TECHNOLOGY FOR INSTANT MESSAGING AND WE HAVE TWEEDLE-DEE LEADING TWEEDLE-DUM THROUGH A GAUNTLET OF PAPERS AND FORMS AS IF SHE'S TAKING OUT A LOAN?

HOW MANY CONSECUTIVE TIMES CAN YOU *&%^ THINGS UP, MR. ZOL!?!? YOU ARE THE JOE DIMAGGIO OF BAD SERVICE! YOUR SUCKITUDE IS UNPARALLELED!

"Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? A nation turns its lonely eyes to you...."

(He's stuck in line at Mr. Zol, find a new hero, suckers.)

It was so bad, I was almost laughing out loud. I looked around for hidden cameras. The woman behind me said that they should provide seats for us to rest on. While I considered just leaving my items, I just had to know how it would all end. Eventually a cashier opened another lane but since I was the FIRST ONE WAITING in my line, I didn't want to move after three other people rushed to stand in line. So I watched person after person check out before me.

It was incredible. The check-out that would not end. It was like that 10 hour Wimbledon match. Babies born while I entered the store are now being released from the army. I migrated my blog to Wordpress and back to Blogger since getting in line. I could have sworn the temple was rebuilt and destroyed while I was trying to pay.

OH MY G-D. Do you ever look to the people around you in such disbelief, as to say to them, "IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING? AM I DREAMING? IS NO ONE ELSE FAZED BY WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT BEFORE OUR VERY EYES????" Usually in this country, it happens when I hear Right Said Fred's "I'm Too Sexy" on Galgalatz and I want to confirm that, yes in fact, I AM HEARING RIGHT SAID FRED'S "I'M TOO SEXY" ON GALGALATZ. Not this time.

Although this woman may have thought she was too sexy to let me pay for my damn groceries, let me assure you, she was not.

And, I'm sorry (that's what we Americans say when there is a 0.00005% chance we might offend someone....whether or not we're actually sorry is irrelevant), but can they get some different cashiers in there? I know the analogy's been overused over the years but a few of them grew up somewhere just outside of Mos Eisley. The type of person who works at this Mr. Zol has clearly grown up with SUCH a different series of experiences and expectations in their lives that to even express disgust would be met with a blank stare. Let's put it this way, I just brought it up with my roommate and this happened:

Me: (relating the hell I just experienced)

Roommate: "Which woman did you get?"

Me: "_____. The weird one, you know her?"

Roommate: "She has those weird, wonky eyes. Awww shame, she's so sweet though, she always says Shabbat shalom."

Me: "Would you want to take out a bank loan from her?"

Roommate: "No."

Me: "And, yes, this is now going on my blog."

When your apartment KNOWS THE NAME OF THE CASHIER, LET'S JUST SAY IT'S PROBABLY NOT BECAUSE SHE JUST WON "EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH."

There was nothing I could do, I just had to smile, laugh to myself, and try to channel that emotion into a blog post. If this blog post does anything at all, if someone half a world away somehow comes across it in a year, setting off a "butterfly effect" chain of events which somehow alters this country in a positive way, it will have been worth it. And if it doesn't? Well....you still suck, Mr. Zol. Big time.

In conclusion: friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears. STAY AWAY FROM THE DOWNTOWN MR. ZOL IF YOU CAN HELP IT. YOU SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK, MR. ZOL! YOU SUCK! YOU SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This pro-Israel message has been brought to you by Nefesh B'Nefesh and the Jewish Agency for Israel.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Your Store is Called WHAT?

I don't even know what to say about this one.

Hmm....what do you think they sell?

Update: Maybe they're owned by the same people who sell these.

Hat tip: my friend Talia.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

So Much For This Being a Family Newspaper

Good day, my loyal readers! How the hell are you? I'm good. Summer's here as evidenced by the lovely Tel Aviv humidity and the chilly Jerusalem nights. I spent last weekend in Tel Aviv and hoooooly cow. I'm not saying it's humid there but driving down Rothschild, I hit a beluga whale. Too silly? Ok, so I sweat WHILE in the shower. No joke. Back in Jerusalem last night, I actually found myself just a tad chilly, thanks to the wind you can only feel while on the top of a mountain. No complaints here, it's quite tolerable to not have air conditioning.

So a couple of things: if you haven't bought tickets yet, I have a show tomorrow night in Tel Aviv with Ari Teman and Yossi Tarablus. All the details are here. It's at ZOA, starting at 9 PM, and tickets are 35 shekels. We're about 80% sold out so buy them while you can at telavivcomedy.com as long as they last. Ari's been on VH1 and performs in clubs all over NYC and Yossi is a writer for the late-night show "Laila B'Kef." I of course shower weekly and can shove four hundred falafel balls in my mouth while doing the mayim step.

And that's the big news from here. What, you want more? Fine, let's take a look at everybody's favorite English newspaper in Israel. Ok, David Horovitz has a look at the Bibi-Obama meeting. He's always good. Caroline Glick writes about a few things overlooked by the New York Times. Sarah Honig writes about WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!?!?!?!

WHAT THE HELL KIND OF NEWSPAPER IS THIS?????? Is this Israel's new effort to sell itself through sex, a la the "IDF soldiers in bikinis"? If so, well, we have more work to do. I'm as open-minded as the next guy but I go to Jpost for news, not for personal stories about a woman's experiences, ahem, down in the Negev. And if your American cous is suffering from isolation...there's always Jdate.

(Hebrew speakers, explain it to the non-Hebrew speakers. Thanks, Lonny!)

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Show Saturday Night and More World Cup

Allright, let's do some housekeeping here. And I'm not talking about sponja.

I have a show this Saturday night at Jerusalem's Comedy Basement at King George and Ben-Yehuda downstairs from Bank Leumi. 50 shekels (40 for students, soldiers, seniors) and includes a drink. Show begins at 9:50. Hope to see you there. If not, you're a rabid anti-dentite.

Some World Cup thoughts which are longer than Tweets....

Whaddya mean there's no football tonight??? Just as I was starting to get used to these daily games (last blog post now on Jpost). It's been quite an interesting experience watching the phenomenon that is the "Mondial" (World Cup) here in Israel. The closest thing I could compare it to is the college basketball tournament in the US. The games are shown EVERYWHERE and what's most interesting is that people don't need to have any investment whatsoever in the game they're watching. It's the same thing for March Madness but people tend to watch those for the incredible upsets and buzzer-beaters. Best I can tell, there haven't BEEN any real water-cooler moments or classic games. (Botched goals don't count.)

Last night, I sat in a bar with my friend Tony and watched most of the Spain-Portugal game. If you happen to hear a rumor that I thought Spain was the white team for a good twenty minutes or so, IT'S NOT TRUE!!!!!!!!!!!! Nothing like mixing up the teams to knock you down a notch.
I like watching the refs hand out cards when they hold them high for everyone to see. "LOOK AT THIS CARD! BEHOLD IT WORLD!" I want to see a ref pull a pen out and write a message on the card: "Dear Ronaldo: Maybe you'll think twice next time about tripping your opponent. Take a seat on the bench. Signed, FIFA"

Smell my armpit, peon.

It's unfortunate that we Americans only get to talk about cards every four years. With scoring and goals, the parallels between football and dating are too great to ignore. How about if you ask for a girl's number and get rejected, you just got a yellow card. If she calls the cops, red card.

Allright, that's it for now. See you Saturday.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Hey, America: It's the World Cup! GO! FIGHT! WIN!

Hello, my loyal readers? It's that time of four years! It's the World Cup! What's the World Cup, you may be asking? Well, it's a sporting event where Americans in the US and abroad pretend to be interested in soccer while investing as little emotional energy as possible in the unlikely event that we get on a roll and start winning.

We all know America's relationship to soccer. You join as a league as a kid, take some cute team photos, and then proceed to throw it to the bottom of the sports scrap heap, looking up at ice hockey and women's tennis. Every few years, something will happen which will make the sports media proclaim, "Maybe THIS is the event that will make soccer tip in the US." Even the arrival of a certain celeb player married to a Spice Girl didn't help. If I can tell you what I want, what I really really want, I wanna AH!, I wanna AH!, I wanna AH!, I wanna AH!, I wanna really really really really zigga zig understand soccer. (Sorry, had to go there.)

Let's not forget the oft-forgotten about sixth girl, Zaatar Spice.

So yesterday, I found myself at HaGov, the relatively new sports bar in downtown Jerusalem. Hey, this World Cup thingymabob only comes around every four years. As a pretty huge sports nut, I can hop on the bandwagon for a few weeks and pretend to care, right? Especially living in Israel as a true member of the international community, it would be a shame to stick my head in the sand and ignore what's considered to be the biggest sporting event in the world. (I know, Americans, it's hard to believe it's not the Super Bowl even though they tell us every year that 47 trillion people around the world are watching it. Having lived here for four years, I am a bit skeptical. Aside from the crazy Americans abroad staying up all night, who are these people? I'll do it MAYBE twice a year, I have doubts as to whether Ping Fu Chung is staying up to watch The Who perform at halftime (that's The Who, not Mr. Hu. This comment proves that I am a dumb American.))

So if we're going to watch soccer, the least we Americans can do is be self-aware, right?, recognizing who and what we are? Sometimes it takes stepping out of your American comfort zone to do so. A few observations from watching the US-Algeria game yesterday:

There I am, with my buddy Phil visiting from the US and Neil, a British oleh who lived for 3 years in the States while on shlichut. Phil and I are both big sports nuts who are trying to understand what the hell we're watching, mostly to no avail. Want to know if you're a bona fide soccer fan? Here's a good measuring stick: if you walk into a game and say "Hey! Which color are we?", you're probably not getting free tickets to Wembley Stadium anytime soon. And going forward, sorry, I'm calling it football. When the rest of the world all agrees on the name and we don't, probably a fair idea to go with them. A direct quote from Neil on my Facebook wall:

Yes Benji, logically the game where you spend 95% of the time throwing the egg shaped thingy or holding it in your hands should of course be called FOOTball.

Only one way to answer that....USA! USA! USA!

Gee, is it Purim already?

And then there's the standard (non-metric system). 12 inches to a foot, 3 feet in a yard, 1760 yards in a mile. Can we just agree that we screwed up? Great, let's move on.

Here's another way to identify the "Yanks" watching soccer. They get overly agitated over the wrong things. One of our players could bludgeon the opposing goalie's fibula with a crowbar and our fans would scream "BULLS**T!!!! BULLS**T!!!! OH, COME ON, REF!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!" This is of course not related to football but any sport which involves a team we root for. Replay means nothing. It's all about the fun of chanting "BULLS**T!!!! BULLS**T!!!! OH, COME ON, REF!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!" And when one of our players had possession of the ball and kicked it anywhere within 400 feet of the goal, "OMIG-D!!!!!!! HOW COULD WE MISS THAT!!!!!! SO CLOSE!!!!!!! OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

(I think I'm going to start reacting this way any time I am confronted with Israeli bureaucracy or bad service. Like when Bezeq led me to believe I'd actually be getting internet yesterday when in actuality, they were just installing the phone line." "ARE YOU FREAKING SERIOUS, BEZEQ??? YOU COULDN'T HAVE TOLD ME THIS ON THE PHONE WHEN I ASKED YOU TO PLEASE SEND A MAC PERSON?!?!? BULLSH**T!!! BULLSH**!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!"
At some point in the first half, the stat "Possession: 54 Algeria/46 USA" flashes on the screen. I ask Phil, "What the hell? Why aren't they even? We have possession, then they have possession, back and forth. Isn't it like 'drives' in the NFL?" Phil has no idea. When I ask Neil later, he reveals that these are the percentages of time each team has had the ball. "Boy, we are really idiots, aren't we?"
Neil made me laugh making fun of the same old chants at American sporting events (as opposed to the clever, specific, and always fresh English football songs (hey Brits, can someone teach me some good ones?) "DEFENSE! DEFENSE! OFFENSE! OFFENSE!" "Da da da daaaaaaaaa da daaaaaaaaa CHAAAAAAAAAAARGE!"

(pause, trying to think of what to yell next)

"DEFENSE! DEFENSE!!!" Hilarious.

Stop me if you've heard this before.

Did you see the US goal taken off the board on an offsides call? Some Brit said about the Americans, "now somebody has to go explain it to them." That made me laugh out loud. How embarrassing that the world thinks we're idiots. Maybe it's because...
A group of yeshiva boys march into the club mid-game chanting, "USA! USA! USA!" Can we all agree that we need a new cheer? And how about this rule? If you can't name 3 players on the team and get excited for a total of five minutes every four years, you are not allowed to cheer. "How cute, the Americans are pretending to care."
With the minutes counting down, we're going down to the wire. Not looking good at all. Damn-I actually watched two games this year and it's already coming to an end. When suddenly....without warning: "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" High-fives! Screaming! Cheering! USA! USA! USA! (five seconds later) Uhhhh....so what happens now? Thanks to my other friend Tony who helped me and Phil figure it out. On that note, this FB status got 14 wonderful "likes":

"WE WON THE WORLD CUP! WE WON THE WORLD CUP!!!!!!!!!!!!"
-Ignorant American soccer fan

Ok, be honest, who out there thought it was over? Don't lie. That's the funny thing-we're high-fiving, yelling, celebrating what's being called America's biggest goal in history, and two minutes later, it's back to normal life. If we were real fans, wouldn't that be a bigger deal? So apparently we play Ghana next, this Saturday night. I'll be back at HaGov if anyone's looking for me. Come out, everybody! I swear, we're going to score a ton of touchdowns. And if anybody makes fun of us for being morons? Well...umm...err...

USA! USA! USA!

I really can't wait to switch to WordPress if only to stop this buggy font switch. Argh. Bulls**t.