What the hell am I?#4

Bargaineers

" Oooh, that'll look triffik on little Moses..."

Never mind the camera love, at 5 shekels a pop get in there!

Carb free

In a bid to regain my youth (and to get ready for the surfing season), I've gone on a carb-free diet. And, fuck me, is it hard. No bread, no pasta, no rice, no beer (and trust me, watching a glorious Champions League encounter with a cup of tea in your hand is a little alien to me), no cakes/cookies...so what's left? Salad, tuna, cheese, eggs, steak...I'm into my fourth day and I'm struggling to think of new things to eat. I lapsed last night when I wolfed down a Milky, but I've been very strong otherwise.

Roll on Saturday, I've arranged an appointment with a carb overdose.

Did you say erection?

Today is Election Day in Israel. That means a national holiday, the whole country, or at least most of it, is out and about in an attempt to create the world's largest traffic jam. Oh, and they might just pop along to their local ballot box, if they can get their asses out of their collective barbeque chair.

I originally had no intention in voting, despite my firm belief that democracy is precious and all eligible should vote. It's just when you don't see a long term future here, you wonder whether you have the right to influence things...but fuck it, while I'm here...

So, I decided to vote. Off to Tel Aviv later as I'm registered there. Can you guess who I'm voting for? Bet you can't guess who mrs. anglosaxy is voting for...

And, of course, while millions will be watching the enthralling election result programmes, some of us footie fans will be partaking in a little slice of Arsenal v Juventus...come on you Gooners!

To fly or not to fly

Still juggling the idea of running away to Thailand for a week or so...I don't want to bitch, but I'm knackered and need a bit of sea and sun, preferably with a bowl of Pad Thai and a splash of Singha beer thrown in.

Only one problem - junior anglosaxy. Not too sure that taking him with us is going to give us a holiday as such. Which means leaving him here. With who? The grandparents? The nanny? Tough one. Anyone fancy looking after a gorgeous boy for a few days? I'll pay you in beers...

I can see that this holiday malarky is never going to be the same again...

Homo Sapiette - March '06

Ninette Taib has a pair of lungs on her. Er, did I just say that?

But hasn't she transformed into a classy looking lady? And even though she's not the thinnest Homo Sapiette on the block, she's certainly as cute as any of the other Sapiettes. Who remembers her appearances on Kochav Nolad (the Israeli equivalent of Pop Idol) a couple of years back? I have to say, she oozed potential back then, even in her army togs (yep, the girls do National Service over here too, ain't nothing like a sweet army girl toting an Uzi or M-16, trust me on that one).



Personally I'm not a fan of the music she belts out, though she does have a good voice. What impresses me most is her "realness" - she appears to have kept her head on her shoulders despite her stardom, and despite the celeb boyfriends (first Ran, now Yehuda, allegedly (the guy in the duo pic below), she appears to have cornered the most desirable dudes in Israel. Or so my 11 year old English students tell me.).



After conquering Pop Idol and the hearts of the nation, she has since moved into acting. She's one of the main stars of HaShir Shelanu (Our Song), a soap opera only available on the Yes satellite network, loosely based around a talent school and its graduates. I hate to admit it, but I was almost hooked and then the current series ended, not sure if my interest wasn't down to Ninette's expansive lungs...



Now a top celeb in this country, that means you won't find too many revealing bikini pictures of her (but countless Diva pics). She's not that sort of girl anyway. So anyway Ninette, please love, put your microphone down for just a second: I officially crown thee the most-clothed Homo Sapiette.

Feel it Hot Hot Hot!

A cool 31 C degrees today.
Was almost tempted to get my gold lame thong out but decided I need to first wax my buttocks after a long winter...maybe next week on Election Day, weather permitting?

Why O Why

So many questions, so few answers...

• Why aren't Israelis embarrassed about rubbing their crotches in public?
• Why do the upcoming elections do absolutely nothing for me (and the rest of the population)?
• Why do most Israelis dream about moving to the States?
• Why does Israeli milk make me fart like a trooper?
• Why do similar Israeli businesses (shoes, gold, furniture, etc) congregate in one area?
• Why do people give you directions, and after you follow their directions you realise that they don't know either?
• Why do women who work in the cosmetic departments have to wear 20 of the products at once?
• Why doesn't mrs. anglosaxy like speaking with me in English in public?
• Why do they automatically switch off the air-con every feckin hour in Corridor Land?
• Why are so many rich Israeli guys koficos (monkeys)?
• Why do 99% of Israeli petrol stations have pump attendants?
• Why is it always a rabbi who comes out with such bollocks?
• Why do Israeli guys have to greet each other with a big, meaty hug?
• Why do Israelis never initially assume that I'm from England?
• Why does the makolet (corner-shop) continue to thrive, despite the deluge of supermarkets?
• Why do they employ weather forecasters in this country?
  

Guess it's time to celebrate good health with a beer...

Jumping sunset

Where the hell am I?

This is all I can manage this morning...

Pooped

[ cough, splutter ]

For over 2 weeks now I've felt like crap. I don't ever recall being sick for so long. Lethargic, stuffed sinuses (I won't tell you about the gunge I've been blowing out of my nose), smokers cough that has been killing me every night, it's all been a bundle of laughs round our way. After 6 hours teaching English yesterday afternoon/evening, my throat decided to up the ante and inject a wince of pain upon each and every swallow. So, this morning, it was my second visit to the Doc within the last 2 weeks, an eclipsical-type occurrence for me. A bit off-putting that the Doc remembered me - could it be down to my fresh blond/ginger locks (I forgot to mention that for Purim I tried to dye my hair grey - I've ended up looking like a human golden retriever), or simply that he thinks I'm a bit of a wuss? Well, just as long as he slips me the sick note, I'm really not too bothered.

I'm writing this in bed, thanks to the wonders of wireless, before mrs. anglosaxy gets back from work and repeats her mantra that I need to hire a teacher to help me out. Because, quite frankly, I'm working my ass off these days with very little time to play. It's all a flurry of lesson plans, building new worksheets, and handling problematic students (the geeky kid has moved classes yet again after bursting into tears at the end of a lesson last week). Plus I have Corridor Land to keep happy and the little junior dude to keep my evenings occupied. All a bit bleedin' exhausting. OK, OK, so I'll get a teacher.

A friend told me that I was spreading myself too thin and I laughed it off. Well, guess she was right, the old body is winking and nudging me in the ribs and trying to convince me that I need to chill out a bit. I can hear a holiday on the beaches of an exotic island beckoning. Or is that the squawk of the onset of bird flu? That chicken soup the mother-in-law was rather too quick to hand deliver suddenly seems to have a lot to answer for...

Can you see what I can see?

Look into my eyes...

Parking the gender to one side

I've got to hand it to the missus. She's a parking demon.

Or more precisely, she's got the Israeli nerve to park where she sees fit. Which could really end with the car being parked anywhere. I've lost count of the number of parking tickets that get docked automatically from my salary (after she remembers and tearfully confesses - after a rigorous interrogation - to parking a little "dodgy" some 3 months earlier).

Whenever we go out, especially to Tel Aviv, we always end up rucking over the spaces that we should have parked in, depending on who's driving...she still maintains that a red and white marked kerb is totally safe...I just hold my hands up in the air and ask "OK, so the towing fee and fine is on you?". I'm still not sure whether this is a male/female thing or an Israeli/Cultured European thing, the jury is still out...

I admit, we've yet to be towed away. But the day is coming, and you know what, I'll be kinda happy. Maybe it's just the chauvinistic anti-Israeli in me, but I've got this feeling you'll be finding me rolling on the floor, in hysterics, the day it happens...

Update: I originally wrote this 3 days ago. Yesterday evening, a flustered mrs. anglosaxy walked in with a 250 shekel parking ticket. Thank you for listening.

Tempting, but...

There I was, seeking info for one of my students who quite fancies a "summer school" session in the UK. A deluge of responses includes this little gem (untouched by myself, this is exactly as I received it, just count the mistakes...):

I am Marry smith ,i manage a few institutions here in the Uk.Yes we will glardly
welcome you in our school.Please feel free to call or email us for propper
arrangements.Waiting for your response. Thanks
Marry
Smith
xxxxxx institute
xxx old road east
grave send kent

I particularly like the "grave send, kent" bit (it's Gravesend).
I sent a reply, can't wait for the response!

After party II

OK, so a few more pics from the party night. These were taken by O and at the end of the night, when her hard-core Ruskie party animals were still going for it at 3am. The yoof of today, eh? My lot were already tucked up in bed by then, what with Sunday morning being the start of the working week over here. Next time, we'll change the day to Thursday if possible, might reduce a few of the no-shows. Still, a cracking night.

After party

So, Saturday night saw me and O's little Purim shindig. It went very well, the alcohol flowed, the DJ was excellent and a good time was had by all, apparently. Even a small profit was made, enough for a good beer session to celebrate.

It's whetted my appetite for more, I have to say. I was actually the responsible partner for the evening, believe it or not. I was the cashier on the door, the guy who had to go step "out back" with Bruiser Doorman to settle up halfway during the night. By the end of the evening me and him were good mates (I don't half know how to be a charmer when I've had a few), he even slipped me a couple of free drinks. I also made sure a couple of rounds of tequila shots for everybody were lined up and that the bar staff and DJ got paid, including a nice healthy tip on top. And even managed to snap a few pics along the way...

The only disappointment - the people who promised they'd turn up and begged to bring some friends with them. Of course, they never turned up, nor did their friends...something we'll have to take into consideration for future events, as O & A Productions (OAP - good one, eh?)stumbles drunkily on to its next project...

Well, enough of that, let's have some pics...
Tomorrow, if you're good, some of O's pics...

Black Rainbow Sheep

After 2 months teaching mrs. anglosaxy the words to Baa Baa Black Sheep (yes, it was easy explaining who the "master" is), they've only gone and PC-ed it. It's all gone a bit crazy out there, hasn't it?

My neighbours

Coughing and wheezing but getting there...

When I fill up, I usually end up going to the nearest petrol station to my place, which just happens to be the above Arab town. Also usually end up washing my car there, it works out cheaper than doing it in an Israeli/Jewish place, and they do a great job.

Mmm, what do you do though when you stop your car at the entrance to the town, perch yourself on a hill and you see through your viewfinder a group of 4 guys in hoodies pointing in your direction? And then heading your way, kinda sharpish. Yep, you take a look over your camera to get a perspective of the distance, breath a sigh of quiet relief that you were at full zoom, you let your heartbeat pick up a bit and then you get the hell out. Yep, they probably wanted to share their olives with me, but I was chicken. I think the 'perching on the hill' idea wasn't such a good one.

This town is just 15 minutes drive (at the right hour) from Tel Aviv.

Waiting all day for this...

I can sense a glorious night, my Arsenal chums...or is that just my foolish heart?

UPDATE: 0-0, but this is why we love football. What a game! More Champions League football for Arsenal!

What the hell am I? #3

Still coughing my guts up I'm afraid, so I'll have to leave you with one of these...

Sun sets over Tel Aviv

[ cough, wheeze, splutter ]
This is all I can come up with today, lying in bed as the dreaded lurgie has temporarily taken over...these Lemsip Max with expiry dates of Dec 05 don't appear to be working...

Marketeering

Yesterday we were in Tel Aviv, scouting round Carmel Market and its neighbourhoods for some fancy dress ideas for our upcoming party. While stuck in a traffic jam, an idea suddenly hit mrs. anglosaxy and the race was on to find the right costume and accessories...and which shall remain Top Secret for now.

What I really wanted to share with you is the delight in taking a pram, complete with an unfazed junior anglosaxy, through Carmel Market. On a Friday afternoon. Complete with moaning shoppers as I ran the pram wheels into their heels. Well, keep moving people, don't just stand there...

I have to admit, whenever I've been in the market and someone walks through with their scooter or bike, I've thought to myself: "Yep, a great place to walk through with your bike/scooter. You idiot." So, yes, I did hear the muttered comments about bringing a pram into the market, and yes, I felt a bit of an idiot. But at least I kept moving, not like those annoying buggars who walk through with their shopping trolley bags and suddenly stop right in front of you. And yesterday I was mighty close to losing it behind one particular shopper...and yes, you, the ginger bastard, who wouldn't let me pass either on the right or left, you were mighty close to being the first victim of market rage...

Invite

This is our party invitation, kindly designed by the gorgeous mrs. anglosaxy... er, can you guess the party theme?

Anglosaxy Day

After yesterday's rather pathetic Family Day (only in Israel, eh?), I am pleased to mention that I'm now firmly in mrs. anglosaxy's good books after bringing home a twee bunch of flowers.

In response to yesterday's utter exercise in bullshit, I'm also pleased to announce the official launching of Anglosaxy Day, every March 1st. But my day is just that little bit different, no need to send me soppy good wishes and flowers. All I ask is that you swear your ass off in the comments. Yes, that's right. Just leave your favourite swear word in the comments, in whatever language, one profanity per person. Go on, you know you want to.

Happy Anglosaxy Day!

Oh yeh, cheeky bast*rds abusing this kind offer will be be royally f*cked.