Bored out of my...

Struggling for anything inspirational to write these last few days (you didn't notice?)...though with the lack of a computer at home, it's actually been refreshing not to surf the Web just for the sake of it. Yesterday I even reviewed the Present Perfect and all of its delightful oddities. Me, bored? Whatever gave you that impression? I'm actually focusing on an event that I really hope will happen in September. All I can tell you is that it involves a long flight and some chopsticks. Any more details and I'll have to shoot you.

Service with a smile. Eh?

Normal service is almost resumed. Replacement screen decided to turn down anglosaxy united, so with a limited budget this summer, I've decided to get the old one rejunevated. The repair shop called me (yes, they called ME, unbelievable...) and informed me that the old screen is tying up his shoelaces as we speak. Tomorrow I'm expecting him to warm up along the touchline, hopefully Wednesday shall see his return to the pitch.

As I haven't accessed my email at home for the last 10 days or so, I'm expecting a real barrage of spam. Who wants to take a guess at how many there'll be? I'm reckoning on around 1,300 (I get around 100-120 a day). Got to get me a spam buster...

The joys of not logging on to the Net have meant the pursuit of other things...like finishing book 1 of Simon Schama's History of Britain (just another 2 to go) and mountain biking around HaYarkon park nearly every day.

Sadly England didn't do the business but it was a decent game against Portugal, something we can't say about the other quarter-finals which have been pretty hopeless...There have been a number of great pictures doctored to 'celebrate' England's exit, but this pic certainly raised a laugh...

Total excitement

Excitement galore at this place. I've just come out of an awfully exciting meeting - you can tell it was that exciting when the only thing that I remember from it was watching my corridor team's faces when consuming the cake I made. Yes, the fortnightly cake bake landed on my plate this week. I decided to go for a carrot cake, and it was surprisingly wolfed down. This is the same bunch that turn their noses up at cooked fruits, sweet cheeses and sliced watermelon that still has a tad, and I mean a really small piece, of the white part of the inside of the watermelon attached (still can't believe that one, I thought I was a fussy bastard...).

Real excitement in the in-laws household as mrs. anglosaxy's brother (from here on in bruv anglosaxy) has decided to do the dirty and get married to his long suffering girlfriend. And not just anywhere. They've decided on Sinai. Yeehaa! Nice long weekend of snorkelling and, er, snorkelling. Not sure how I'm going to survive without a decent beer for a few nights, but I'm sure I'll manage. And the bus ride down (we're talking of approximately 7 hours), complete with 40 relatives singing their fave songs boosted by an injection or two of Arak, might be a little hard to swallow, much like the Arak...at least it'll give me some decent stories to tell here, that I'm sure.

Tremendous excitement in the corner behind me - O has got her wish and is off in a few weeks to Thailand for a month. She obviously doesn't care to leave me to fend for myself in the corridor...

And finally, tumultuous excitement in the anglosaxy household tonight, at exactly 9.45pm (Israel time). I'm sure you don't need to click here to find out why...

On and off

Blogging will be on and off for the next few days thanks to my surly replacement screen and its agent. Apparently conditions at anglosaxy united are not quite what they were led to believe, what with contagious diseases running rife. So expect light blogging (meaning when I can get my hands on a computer at work) until the replacement screen (or the agent cum technician fixing it) decides the time is right.

In the meantime, one word for you to repeat endlessly, beer glass/can in hand, while the tension builds for Thursday's clash with the hosts Portugal:
Roooooney!!

And should I be tempted onwards and upwards, the role of Minister of Sport sounds like my cup of tea glass of beer.

Down time

I've been doing some 'cold turkey' the last couple of days as my computer screen at home has decided to retire from the game...a short, glittering career with anglosaxy united has come to a sad and bitter end. Meanwhile, life goes on and a replacement is warming up on the touchline.

Not sure I'd have had much time on the computer anyway this last 3 days or so. Mrs. anglosaxy has gone down with a serious lung infection, apparently very contagious, so if you're reading this, back off...poor kid can hardly eat and is constantly burning up (that'll be the fever, not her anger at me watching too much football). I've been doing my knight in shining armour act though, including a 4 hour stint at the emergency department yesterday, where she was prodded and poked and x-rayed and even walked in upon in half undress by a rude, bastard patient who couldn't even knock when barging in. He got a few 'choice' words from me...I'm still trying to work out why they charged us 87 shekels (approximately ten quid) for coming in. I thought we paid for all this through our monthly health organization deductions? Mmmm. I smell a kippaer.

England expects

...more hiding behind the sofa.

...fingernails down to the bone.

...pounding pulses as Beckham lines up to take another penalty.

...further loutish escapades from a few drunken 'fans', whatever the result.

Why do England games always have to be so emotionally challenging? Why can't we do a Germany now and again? Anyway, I'm ready, the Tuborgs are already at the preferred temperature and my England t-shirt is ironed and pressed. And not just any t-shirt...:

Big respect

Some "big respect" goes out to momma anglosaxy (mrs. anglosaxy's mother). Tomorrow she heads off to India for a month, just her and a friend. No husbands. No tour guides. Just a brand spanking new digital camera and a small rucksack. I'm impressed.

Long day today. Back in the corridor for more punishment, before heading out to Rosh Ha'ayin for another English lesson. Then back to Tel Aviv for a farewell shindig for momma anglosaxy. It's going to be hard saying goodbye, I'll do my best to stifle the flow of tears...

In sickness and in health

Mrs. anglosaxy is a little the worse for wear today, looks like the flu is kicking in. That means I'm doing my Florence Nightingale act, while harbouring suspicions that this is all a reaction to Euro 2004...

It's funny how a few games of football can bring out the best and worst in the female species. I can always guarantee that she indoors will desire a hug or other similar intimacy whenever a big game is on. And then there are the questions: "Who is the guy in the black and why isn't anyone passing the ball to him?" or "Why isn't Thierry Henry playing for England?"...

Gutted

Well, I did warn you about the emotional rollercoaster when watching England, personally I'm gutted. One silly free kick and one sloppy back pass.

I'm going to drown my sorrows with some Southern Comfort supported English lessons tonight, while these Tel Avivians have the right idea (yes, that is a Star of David she's wearing...):

Hiding behind the sofa

Emotional rollercoaster (England v France) starts in another couple of hours.
COME ON ING-ER-LUND!!

Armchair bliss

The armchair has been dusted and aired.

The fridge is full of Tuborg.

The remote control has been placed in its biennial secret location.

Starting this evening is Euro 2004, for the next 23 days the bane of many a wife all over Europe...All games are live over here on Channel 1, so we'll have to put up with some hopeless commentating. A little channel-surfing might be performed (when mrs. anglosaxy isn't looking...), in the hope of finding some commentating in English.

And who's going to win? My heart says England, but my head says Italy or France. Surprise team of the tournament? I'll go for Greece.

Here's a good explanation as to why Israel football is so crap and why we never see them in a major tournament...

Phallic or Challenger?

A few days ago I had some free time, and, with my camera in hand, found myself alongside one of the more noticeable buildings in Tel Aviv (the building is actually physically in Ramat Gan, but you'd never have known...). This building has always caught my eye, undoubtedly due its distinct shape and location: it is the last sizeable building you'll pass on your way out of Tel Aviv (heading northwards), or the first as you drive in to Tel Aviv (from the north). I'm always wondering what shape the designers had in mind when it was on the drawing board..."mmm, shall we go with the rocket ship, or a whopping great phallus?". And how do its residents refer to it when directing friends, deliveries etc? "Er, it's the building shaped like an old style rocket ship/enormous penis?" I'm sticking with my nickname - the Guy Penis building (he's a local 'celeb' with a dodgy name - yep, that's his real name).



It even has its own advertising hoarding, as you can see from the wine ad above. In the picture below you can just about make out the building on the skyline, it's on the far left, standing out like a sore phallus thumb.

Thursday afternoon, sniggering behind my desk...

Gotta laugh.
This company does its utmost to appear professional. However, when it's management is so content to cut corners it's inevitable that the chickens eventually come home to roost. I have now been handed a mission to determine why the translations of our documentation and product are so lengthy and expensive. I then have to present my findings to the CEO. Fantastic. Dare I tell him that it might be down to their trying to cut corners by handing the Indians the translation? With all due respect, the Indians idea of translating to Japanese is using somebody who once visited his cousin in Tokyo for the weekend. And then let's not forget that they are also using somebody who last worked with the programme we use to convert the documentation some four years ago...
Sigh.

Driving in Israel #2

I've just arrived back in the office after experiencing one hell of a traffic jam on the Ayalon freeway. Just sit back and watch...

...watch as any space longer than 2 metres is quickly devoured by some form of transport. You can guarantee that even if a driver is in the fast moving lane, but the lane has temporarily slowed, he/she will head for that space. Maybe 'occupation' (ooer missus, confrontational goings on here at anglosaxy) is an inbuilt Israeli trait - they see an inch of land, in this case tarmac, and they have to conquer...

...watch and count the pairs of cars parked in the emergency lane. Why are they there? Valiant attempts at breaking the world record for minimal distance between cars fail yet again...

...watch as anglosaxy's new policy takes hold; you indicate, voila, you sweep majestically into my lane. You don't indicate, you f*ck off back to your lane.

For a reminder of what makes Israeli drivers simply irresistible, check my May 29th post and its comments.

Do you mind if I close the dick?

A lurverly 3 day stint in the office started this morning...really hate that feeling when I walk up the stairs to my corridor. O was distraught I left her all alone in corridor hell for 3 days, but she's a tough cookie, she'll live.

Today is a long day with a couple of lessons with 3 kids tonight in Rosh Ha'ayin. Home around 10, I guess. Not sure the 9 year olds will ply me with Southern Comfort though...my regular SC guy is abroad testing his new grasp of Anglosaxy English for a few days. I just hope he doesn't mix up his words again - not sure how but when we were reading some basic English vocabulary last week he was doing a great job until he came across the word 'door'. For some reason he paused and then, very confidently, came out with "dick". I know it's probably not very professional, but he had me teetering on the edge of hysterics.

Personification

Holiday poll results are in. Christmas and Pessach tied for first place, both with 22% of the vote. Personally, I'm not sure how matza can be endured longer than a few hours, let alone a whole week...In third place it was Thanksgiving, some minor American holiday apparently (tee hee), while in a tie for fourth it was Independence Day (Israeli style) and 'None of the above'. Should I have added Ramadan?

OK then, time for a new poll. This time you have to vote for the Israeli you think best personifies Israel - not your favourite Israeli or the Israeli that represents your political view, but the Israeli who you think best sums up all that is good and bad about Israel. That could mean the democratically challenged Arik Sharon, the rather shifty Bibi or the voluptuous Dana. You decide. My vote has been cast but this time I'm not telling.

Supping a beer on the beach...

Yesterday we were out and about for most of the day, but managed to squeeze in a couple of beers on the beach, accompanied with loads of humus and tehina and, of course, pitot (pita bread). "M" joined myself and mrs. anglosaxy - he didn't take much persuading.

Always amazes me how some of the locals don't want to go to the beach. This is the Mediterranean we are talking about, not Bognor Regis! They should spend a couple of weeks on the beach in rainy England in mid-June - not to sure how many Israelis would be left standing after the rising tide has forced them further and further up the beach until they're left squashed next to a dear old granny who has decided to impress the onlookers with her striking new one-piece. And then the clouds start forming and the half-hour of 'hot' sunshine is lost for another few days.

Really miss those hot, English summers...

Lucky b'stard

I am a lucky b'stard. I knew she was beautiful, but mrs. anglosaxy's new haircut has brought out the 'babe' in her beauty. She truly is beautiful...
NOTE: Any modelling offers will be seriously considered. Please contact her agent at slipperyagent@luckybstard.com.

Life's a beach

As a self-confessed beach bum, one of my pet rants is the charging by local authorities to use their beaches. Especially when they obviously don't pump the funds they raise to clean-up the beach. This article gives a good rundown of the beaches, their quality and whether or not they charge. By the way, according to the law, local authorities aren't supposed to charge - "Admission may not be charged for entry to a bathing area on the beach of the ocean, a river or lake, unless a reasonable area has been set aside in that location with easy access for free entry." Yeh, right.

Witness

Perhaps my driving in Israel post was a premonition of things to come, but last night I witnessed a nasty accident. And what do you know, all parties involved were in the wrong, this one will end up in the courts for years...the motorbike rider was so speeding, the guy who pulled out in front of him was so incorrect in his judgement, while the car "innocently" parked at the side of the road, in my opinion, was the cause of the whole thing. But hey, he had his hazard lights on, so "everything's OK". Nobody seemed to be badly injured, but the biker will surely feel it later after the shock subsides. One good thing out of all this is that I didn't have to get involved as a witness - there were so many people out and about because of the nearby Ta'am Ha'ir (annual Tel Aviv food festival).

Mrs. anglosaxy is getting her golden locks hacked off as we speak...she's getting a 'summer cut', which for some reason worries the crap out of me...

The Great Escape (from corridor hell)

"Be quick Cap'n, take a shot before the boss walks around the corner! I cannae take the suspense na longer, ma legs are like jelly!"
"Never fear Scotty, have some faith in your wee Cap'n anglosaxy. If it's the last thing I do, the last breath I draw, the -"
"Och aye Cap'n, I get the fookin' idea!"
FLASHHH!
"The world shall hold its breath at the corridor conditions we are forced to endure. Scotty, may our children never have to see such horrors..."

Not in the office today. The beach is calling. Life is hard.

Mazal Tov

A hearty "Mazal Tov!" to my pal over at lights in the distance, who has given birth to a bouncing baby boy. Nice job!

Like Trojan horses, we moved into the VIP section...

Troy the movie - ok, but not as good as expected.
VIP seats, complete with complimentary beers, popcorn, cake, ice cream, leather electric reclining chairs and, oh, such a better class of person - pretty darned impressive!

It was my first visit to Cinema City at the Glilot junction and I have to say I was impressed...didn't get to check out the Temple bar downstairs as we were more than merry on all those freebies.