My brother is basically prophetic

Last night my brother gave us all gifts. First he gave us the gifts he saved from his trip to Germany over the summer. He got me a very cute little messenger-style bag, and I was very pleased.

Then he whipped out our presents that he got us from Israel, which he bought on Friday. Mind you, this was a day before the operation started. What was the gift I received? A poster of soldiers in front of the Western Wall, with the words to the prayer for the IDF. ....how appropriate

The Nazi is a mythical creature

So I just read in the news that some Iranian politician likened Israel to the Nazis. Which immediately made me stop and ask myself, "Wait, aren't Iranian politicians Holocaust deniers?"

If there was no Holocaust, then basically what this guy was doing was actually comparing Israel to a mythical creature. Nazis don't exist, they're like leprechauns or unicorns or Rumplestiltskin. So when some guy from Iran calls my country a bunch of Nazis, I get a little confused. Wait, do you mean that we're a bunch of little green men with pots of gold, that we're beautiful horses with magical powers, or that we're little men with strange names? Ah! Must be the last one. Most Avi's aren't very tall.

Jeez, man from Iran, tell me something I DON'T know!

milchama

Well, I'm not really sure what to say..... anyone who is reading this is probably well aware that, to put it mildly, shit is going on in the Gaza Strip.

To answer some questions that I've been getting from family members and friends today:
1) Are you more scared to go to Israel now? Yes.*
2) Are you still going to go to Israel? Yes.

*Perhaps "scared" is incorrect. I would say "more concerned than before."

Anyway, I don't have much else to say. In the meantime, send some good thoughts Israel's way.
http://www.shefanetwork.org/GateWays/Prayer%20for%20the%20State%20of%20Israel.JPG

(can't get pretty link-age to work, so just copy/paste)

Jew goes to church

Tonight I went to church for the first time in my life-okay, clarification: I have walked into churches all over Europe (and even a church in Haifa!) and I have been to one Catholic wedding in my life. But an actual service? No.

So tonight I went with my friend from high school who is also not Christian, but who regularly goes to Catholic church. I felt like I kind of had to go since in a little less than a month I'll be a citizen of a Jewish country. This was my last Christmas as a citizen solely of a Christian country, so I figured I might as well see what Christmas Midnight Mass is all about before I leave.

Maybe other Jews reading this will disagree, but as a Jew in America I always felt like the Christians of the US probably look at us as kind of strange people. Our services are probably weird to them. Of course, to me, Jewish services are normal....but I was convinced that to Christians we must seem like total weirdos. And I was also completely convinced that if I went to a Christian service at any time, I would immediately say to myself, "Ohhhhh, NOW I understand why they think we're weird--because they're so normal!"

But tonight--Oh. My. G-d. IT WAS SO WEIRD! There was this procession of these men in white robes, and the cardinal or the bishop or the somebody of LA walked in wearing a pope hat (and underneath it he was wearing a yarmulke-looking thing) and carrying this curvy staff.....there seemed to be a great deal of candle-shuffling during the readings from the scriptures.... at some point there was an actual offering left at the altar, with incense and all....at one point we all had to turn to our neighbor and like hug or shake hands....THEY PASSED BASKETS DOWN THE PEWS FOR MONEY!!!!!!!..I....I....I was so confused!

Having only been to Jewish services in my life, I was so convinced that there was this whole "normal" bit of the world that I was missing out on....but it turns out that that "normal" bit of the world is SO STRANGE! I mean, to me at least.
I'm not being critical of it as a religion--I think all religions are weird, including my own. I'm just saying that I feel like such an idiot for treating Christianity/Catholicism as the standard-bearer for normality in a religion....and after 20 years I finally figure out that it's just as bizarre as any other religion.


During a couple parts of the service, the cardinal or bishop or priest or whatever (hahaha, for all I know it was the pope himself! had the entire congregation pray for people who don't believe in Jesus. I had heard a little while back that the pope decided to put those prayers back in, and it pissed me off a bit, but eventually I didn't really give a shit. But OH how different I felt about it tonight!
Now, mind you, tonight I was a Jew sitting in the LARGEST cathedral in Los Angeles, surrounded by hundreds, maybe a couple thousand, Catholics. And now they were all praying for my soul. I'm not gonna lie, I was seriously uncomfortable. I wanted to shriek at everyone, "I DON'T WANT YOUR FUCKING PITY PRAYERS!"
But as I told Abraham, if this pope is going to insist on praying for me even though I don't want him to, I'll be sure to put in a good word for him with G-d during Friday night Maariv.

A Summary Of What It's Like To Sit Next To A 10 Year Old At Dinner

(my apologies for the flood of posts).

HERE is what it's like to sit next to a 10 year old (cousin) at dinner, in short:

"Hi!!!!!! So this one time this really funny thing happened when I was with my sisters and these people who you've never met but whose names I'm going to use anyway as if you know them--but before I finish that anecdote, let me first get completely distracted and end up summarizing three movies that I recently saw. Actually, summarizing would be incorrect of me to say, rather I'm going to tell you about three movies in excruciating detail, to the point where you feel like you've actually seen these three terrible movies that you thought were so bad that when they were actually in theaters you decided against paying to see them. After I'm done giving you a shot-by-shot analysis of exactly what the plot is in these films, I'll switch subjects to the boy I have a crush on. I won't actually explain to you that I have a crush on this boy, instead I'll just use his name as if you know him personally, and I'll tell you in great detail about how we pass notes and throw pieces of paper at each other. Then I'm going to switch to a couple seconds of picking at my food in silence.....which I'll then interrupt when I remember that I still haven't finished my original story about my sisters and me and our friends, whose names and distinct personalities you've now completely forgotten thus rendering you completely confused and hopelessly treading water in this sea of information. By this point though, dinner is through, so I promise to finish my story when I see you at Christmas, at which point you'll tell me that you forgot how the story started, so I'll have to start this whole process ALLLLLLL the way from the beginning, making sure that you will never hear the end of the original anecdote."


Hhahaha, I love my cousins.....

UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE!

Did you know that the First Lady of Iceland is an Israeli Jew? WHAT?!?!??! HOW WEIRD!

Well, exciting news! I got a ride to the airport! My parents are going to be out of town when I finally leave LA, so I was going to have to take a taxi....... But my "family" across the street has offered me a ride, which is especially nice when you consider that they are totally anti-Israel (and, by that same token, against Jewish immigration there)

Stories for Grandchildren.

So since my uncle's been here, I've been hearing tons of stories about all the crazy shit my grandpa used to do. My mom is less eager to share stories, but she did say of my grandma, "When I was a teenager, she used to do embarrassing things in public just to see my reaction...." which made me think, for the first time in my life, that I"m clearly related to this woman. When I'm a mother, I'm definitely going to be intentionally embarrassing my children just cos I have nothing better to do. And then when I'm a grandma I'm going to unintentionally embarrass my family by flirting with waiters less than 1/3 of my age. Aw grandma..... :-)

So anyway, my uncle is telling stories about my grandpa's youth. A couple I've heard from him before, such as the story he told me last year when I was visiting him in San Francisco. Apparently my grandpa was a merchant marine (this was new to me) and was sleeping on deck during a storm in the middle of the ocean in the middle of the night, and a huge wave came and bucked him off the ship. He managed to grab the last possible railing on the edge of the ship, saving himself by clinging on for dear life. Eventually he managed to pull himself back onto the ship in the middle of this storm.

When my brother and I heard this, we looked at each other and said, "WHY THE HELL DIDN'T GRANDPA BOTHER MENTIONING THIS TO US?"

And I still wonder that. I love my grandpa, but he's an older fella now. I grew up knowing nothing about him, and now I'm only learning about him through my uncle's love of telling stories--and I only see that uncle once every couple years.

Tonight at dinner my uncle shared a different story about my grandpa, about how he got shot at in Indonesia. Apparently there was some sort of civil war or something going on when he stopped there with the merchant marine boat, and they all got shot at and narrowly escaped. I'm not doing justice to the story, but just trust me that it's kind of awesome.

It's just been weird taking in these stories and such, and it makes me wonder what my grandkids would know about me. I feel like I would be much more eager to freely volunteer information and stories, unlike my grandpa who never told stories but rather explained scientific principles, like why you can get liquid to stick in a straw if you put your finger at the top. Come to think of it, pretty much whatever shred of understanding I have of science is thanks to my grandpa. But I know nothing about him as a person.

As for me, I'd want to tell my grandchildren about how this one time I folded laundry on a kibbutz, and how I got mooned by an orthodox jew just outside of Jerusalem, and how this one time in Los Angeles on Venice Blvd I almost ran over a midget dressed as a cowboy riding a unicycle. I want them to know that I supported Welsh independence, and was a card-carrying member of Plaid Cymru, a Welsh political party. If my grandchildren are Israeli, I want them to laugh at what an idiot I am when I tell them that when I first rode Israeli busses I was shocked that drivers give passengers change AND a ticket! Or that when I first got to Israel I couldn't figure out why everyone was playing ping pong on the beach without paddles.

And they'll totally be bored, and they'll whine about how my stories are boring. But I'll yell, "I'm your goddamn grandma, so you better listen anyway!" Because I don't want them to know about me because their uncle told them when they were 20, I want them to know because I told them. Because that's just sad.

Sex and farts.

So my uncle drove down from Northern California today to visit my grandparents (his parents, duh!), and he's staying next to my room in my brother's room (the brother who is in Israel at the moment). And right now I'm hyper-aware of all the little noises I make that I normally don't notice. For example, when I shift in my chair, it sounds like I'm ripping loud, wet farts. And I'm a fidget, so I make that noise a lot. It's VERY loud and you can definitely hear it from down the hall. When it's just one of my brothers down the hall, I don't particularly care that they think I'm farting up a storm because they are my brothers, and farts are not only welcome in my immediate family but actually sources of pride. So right now my uncle probably thinks I have severe intestinal issues.

Also, my bed is broken. Once in 9th grade a bunch of friends were over and they all sat on my bed and......well, now my bed is broken. So basically now whenever you lie in my bed and you cough, shift slightly, or even just breathe, the springs go SQUEAKY SQUEAKY! It basically sounds like someone is having angry and enthusiastic sex in my bed, but really someone's just breathing shallowly. Everyone in my immediate family is aware of this and knows that I'm not doing something dirty in my bed, but an infrequent guest does not know this.....

ALSO: I talk in my sleep. Sometimes very loudly.


I'm going to be quite red in the face tomorrow at breakast.

Nothing too exciting to report on the aliyah front. Just playing the waiting game. But as far as games go, this one's pretty boring.

I decided to go online and listen to galgalatz and found that I can also look in on the studio, so I thought that'd be cool. It actually wasn't that cool. Basically all you see is a couple of girl soldiers sitting around, looking bored, occasionally doodling or going on the computer in the studio, and one of them had a lollipop in her mouth. It was actually rather funny to watch


Also, tonight at the deli my grandma took one look at the waiter and said, "I'm old, so I'm allowed to say this: you are the best looking waiter I've ever had!"

HAHAHAH......oh grandma.....I couldn't stop laughing, turned bright red, and couldn't make eye contact with the waiter for the rest of the evening.

Brigadoon Reference # 87

We had some really heavy rain here in LA over last night and today. I'm peering out my window at the moment and it's really starting to clear up quite a bit right about now, but off in the distance you can see some low clouds floating over LA, covering up the view of the Hollywood sign off in the distance, and generally giving off the impression that LA is this mystical, mysterious place. Partially obscured, foggy..... It's almost like Brigadoon.

Then again, I can turn anything into a Brigadoon reference.

What's in a name? A whole lotta stress...

I'm in a bit of a pickle. No, I'm not talking about dealing with parental reactions to my impending aliyah (Mom's okay with it now, Dad's still pissed and bribing me to go anywhere else in the world.)

I am, of course, talking about the name-change issue. Well, it's not really an issue, but rather an option.

I was considering changing my name to some Israeli name that starts with a Samech or Sin, but I figured that that'd be disrespectful to my parents and also it'd be really embarrassing to not be able to pronounce my own name correctly.

If I change it to Sammy סמי I'm going to have the problem of my legal name being a boy's name. It's bad enough now when people see "Sam" on paper and assume I have a penis, but now I won't have the luxury of being able to point out, "Well, technically it's Samantha."
The other problem though is that Sammy, as pronounced by Israelis (at least the ones I've met), sounds almost exactly like "Semi." Which, of course, makes me think of trucks. I don't think Israelis will make the connection, but I don't want to think of myself as a type of truck trailer any time someone calls my name for the rest of my life.

What's wrong with keeping my legal name "Samantha," you ask? Well, the problem is that Israelis constantly spell it incorrectly, with a tet, because they don't understand that the "th" isn't pronounced TAH. So for the rest of my life people are going to be calling out my name, like if they're taking attendance or if I'm in a waiting room of some kind, and they're going to say, "SemenTAH?" Which would start to piss me off after a lifetime of that. And which, of course, brings up the other issue with remaining a legal Samantha, which is that when you transliterate how Israelis say your name, it looks like "Semen" is in your name, which is just gross.

Well, as I said once before in Israel, I really should just save myself a whole lot of trouble and change my name into a single letter, kind of like an extreme form of Cher's simple name.

More later,

ס

Moment of the Day:

My mother walks into my room and sees that my laptop is on my lap.

Mom: "Nooooooo! You can't put your computer on your lap!"

Sam: "Whatever, Mom, I usually have it on my desk, but I just wanna lean back on my rocking chair so I can't with it on the d---"

Mom: "IT'LL MAKE YOU INFERTILE!"

Just gotta say: most politicians are corrupt, but if you attract enough attention with your misdeeds to warrant getting arrested.....DAMN son!

also, i think Oprah can be as fat as she goddamn wants and I don't give a shit. 200 pounds? Whatever. A ton? Good for her. She's still a rainbow of wonderfulness

Sam's Suitcase's Holy Land Tour

So, as I probably mentioned at some point, I lost my suitcase in Israel the first time I went there. (December 2007).


And to this day, a full year later, I find myself wondering during quiet moments, "Where the hell IS my suitcase?" This really does interest me. Was it blown up almost immediately? Was it placed on a different tour bus and then discovered and THEN blown up? Is it in some storage room somewhere in Israel?

Is my suitcase somehow still touring the country, carrying on my work?

This is what occupies the empty space in my brain when I'm alone in my room, or at a movie, or in class. I get bored and I start imagining possible things that happened to my suitcase.

When I return to Israel, I intend to make finding out my suitcase's fate my mission. I mean, apart from the fact that I had a few sweaters in there that I really liked that I'd like to get back, my main interest here is just curiosity-driven.

Crap. Am now leaning towards doing Ulpan Etzion in Jerusalem since that way I have fewer things to worry about, and also because it seems like I'll have an easier time getting my parents on board with that since it's a more academic-focused thing....and just a more focused thing in general in comparison to "I'm gonna go to haifa and eventually find housing and work, and maybe do some hebrew classes...."

Also, I think part of me just needs to accept a bit of help. For example, I didn't do a nefesh b'nefesh flight cos I wanted to be independent. That's no big deal, but when it comes to long-term living arrangements I need to be willing to go the easy route.


ALSO: I keep having nightmares about my arrival in Israel. I keep having dreams that I got into a taxi at the airport and ended up at my chosen destination in the country (some dreams it's been Haifa, others it's Jerusalem)....and then I realize that I forgot to go through the process at the airport for olim. So then I realize that I'm not an olah, and that I'm totally fucked. And then I wake up. Seriously, I've had this dream four times now.

I just got stir-fry downstairs.....I'm so glad that that was probably the last time I'm getting stir-fry at my dorm's cafeteria. It's really tasty, but I swear that the smell gets into my clothing. Like, I go downstairs and my clothing smells like laundry detergent, or at worse like my signature smell (whatever that is....everyone has a signature smell. Signature BO), and then on the way back up the stairs after eating stir fry my shirt smells like onions and teriyaki sauce. I seriously don't understand. I understand that my breath would smell weird, or that maybe my hands might a little bit. But my shirt? I don't get it. I didn't spill on my shirt, but somehow my shirt always ends up smelling like someone stir-fried it.

Anyway, aliyah related update: I did end up getting into the ulpan/apartment combo in Jerusalem. I'm thinking of continuing with my plans to go up north though. I liked the north because, unlike in Jerusalem, I didn't feel like I was surrounded by American pilgrims. I actually heard Hebrew up there, and people were a lot nicer about letting me get a chance to try out my Hebrew. Of course, this complicates things because up north I don't have any set plans--my plan is to go to a hostel and stay there until I find a cheap apartment. And then hopefully work and ulpan will fall in line. Based on my internet research that shouldn't be too difficult, but we'll see what real life brings.....

A happy development.

Hadn't spoken to my mom in three days, and my dad in almost a week--this is pretty weird for me, since normally I hear from my parents every other day. Where we last left off, my parents were furious. Absolutely pissed with me.

Tonight I called my mom back after she called me while I was with a friend--and now she's all totally happy with me. When she originally called me, she sounded angry with me. But I called back and suddenly she was happy..... WEIRD

We were talking about me withdrawing from university, this time as a fact rather than as an abstract thing that she is trying to prevent from happening. They even cracked a joke about my leaving--I said that the lady at the university office told me that there was absolutely no problem with my withdrawing. And then my dad lets out a hearty, Santa-like chuckle and says, "Heh, well at least you've got HER permission!"

I'm thinking they're trying to be extra nice to me to prevent me from leaving. I think they realized that their being angry only makes it easier for me to leave, because I don't want to be around people who "hate" me. Or maybe they're realizing that if I leave university for Israel, they can retire MUCH earlier. For whatever reason they're being nice suddenly, I'm glad. I feel a lot less stressed--now the only thing I'm stressing over is whether or not experiencing their niceness at home or a month is gonna convince me to stay!

I'm also afraid that maybe this is some ploy to get me to let my guard down. Aw fuck it, why be paranoid

You know what really pisses me off about Harry Potter? I mean, I love the books and everything, but what the hell is wrong with Harry? Seriously, if I knew some dark wizard was out to get me, I'd put a little bit more effort into my magical education. But no, he totally slacks off and relies on his nerdy little lady friend to know the hell he should do. Like seriously, Harry Potter, learn to do a fucking potion once in a while, or read a fucking book every now and then.

How come Shakespeare's plays are never staged to take place in the time periods and settings that Shakespeare intended? That never happens anymore... Nowadays you have to stage Hamlet in the stone age, or Henry V in some futuristic space battle place, or Romeo and Juliet have to be teenagers in the Canada Fur Wars of 1764 (okay, I'm pretty sure there's no such thing as "Canada Fur Wars of 1764, but you get my point).

Weirdos from the kibbutz revisited

So this weirdo I know from the kibbutz ("weirdo from the kibbutz"? that narrows things down...) sends me an IM on facebook. Conversations goes a little like this:

Person: Hi.
Me: Hi.
Person: 'sup?
Me: Nothing. What's new with you?
Person: ....nm......still engaged

I figured that was my cue to show polite interest, so I wrote back something like, "Oh, congrats, to who?" and figured the happy groom-to-be would be glad to tell me a little bit about this person, like how he knows her or what her name is or whatever. I naturally assumed I wouldn't know the person, but I figured my asking would elicit some kind of basic descriptive response on the part of said girl's future husband. But no.

Me: Oh, congrats, to who?
Person: A girl.


And that was the end of the conversation. I'm sorry, here's my problem with this conversation:

1) Don't IM me, don't e-mail me, or don't call me unless you actually want to have a conversation. A simple transaction of information ("I'm engaged to a girl.") is not a sufficient reason to contact me. Don't talk to me unless you want to analyze shit and go into interesting detail, or at least moderately interesting detail.

2) Specifically, if you're going around IMing or calling or whatevering people you barely know to tell them that you've gotten engaged, you should be prepared to say more about your fiancee than just she's "a girl." Wow. Real informative, dipwad.
If you say you're getting married to someone, they should inspire more of a reaction in your heart than just she's "a girl," unless of course you're simply making the whole thing up. If your significant other is fictional, "she's a girl" is actually a relatively detailed response.

Is Reading Week All That Stressful? Sam live-blogs.

Well, if you're the person down the hall from me then the answer is "Yes. Oh G-d Yes."

I came back to my dorm a few minutes ago and I heard what I thought was a saxophone squeaking. "Dang, this is annoying," I thought to myself, but wasn't concerned. But after the continuous saxophone shrieking continued for a full 5 minutes, I began to get concerned.

I went out into the hall and saw that a small crowd had gathered. By now the sax squeak has turned into full-blown yells of bloody murder, which my neighbor was able to sustain for minutes at a time. Eventually the screaming grew weaker and turned into a sort of sad and angry moan, with occasional bursts of all-out shrieking.

Finally we decided to knock on the door and ask if there was something any of could do to help....and the screaming/moaning stopped instantly. You could tell she was just sitting in silence waiting for us to go away. We waited a few minutes in the silence, then knocked again. And still no response. So we had no choice but to walk away.

.....

She's stopped screaming now, instead relying upon brief intermittent shrieks to let out her frustration. Occasionally I'm hearing squeaks that sound like some kind of Peruvian jungle monkey, if such a creature exists. And sometimes she sounds like crow, you know, going "CAW! CAW!" or whatever.

Ah, wait, no, the screaming is continuing. And now it sounds like she's throwing heavy objects at the walls. A couple of us out in the halls wonder if she's just having particularly loud sex. We can hear her typing though, so we know it's probably schoolwork related.

....

Finally we've tracked down a CA who knocks on her door, but again the screamer falls silent. He waits outside the door, saying weakly, "You know, I'm a CA so you should open the door.....yeah....." but the girl just waits in silence for the CA to go away. Which he eventually does.

And then the silence is broken yet again, this time by short bursts of profanity. "FUUUUUUCK!" she yells at the top of her lungs, so loudly that I bet people in Tokyo are wondering what the hell is going on. Then there's utter silence or a couple minutes. Then suddenly I hear a large object being thrown against the wall, and then, "SHIIIIIIIIT! DAMN IT!" And then the room falls silent again, except for the sound of a paper being typed.

Holy fuck, the cops are now in the hallway. There are POLICE OFFICERS IN MY HALLWAY!


----

So I heard the cops talking to the girl, who was sobbing, and apparently this is indeed a case of stress.

---

Okay, just got back upstairs from dinner, and on the way up the stairs I saw they had a friggin STRETCHER in the lobby, and that basically half of the town's fire department and paramedics are outside. I think they're taking the girl to the hospital.

All this cos of finals...

---

She's now arguing with the cops, she refuses to go to the hospital, they're calling for back-up....... you can HEAR the crazy in her voice. She's calling wildly for the police to sign a form that she wrote up, which they refuse. Finally they said, "What day of the week is it?" And she thought for a moment and said, "Wednesday."

It's Thursday.

---

Holy fuck, 5 paramedics just came running down our hall, and now they're dragging her out of her room by her arms.

--

OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MORNING!

I know some people I don't know read this blog, and I don't know if any of them are considering aliyah....but if you are, just know one thing:

I can tell you from experience that dealing with your family's reaction is going to suck. It just is.



People told me that my family would be more prepared for this "second" aliyah of mine....well, they wouldn't. And, in fact, the reaction from my parents is so negative this time that I'm seriously considering staying with friends for the month that I'll be in LA.

If you go back and read the archives on this blog and see how many references I make to crying, it might surprise you to hear that I'm actually not much of a crier. For example, one of my closest friends of the past 8 years has seen me cry all of once. And her response throughout the whole ordeal? "Oh my G-d.....oh my G-d....I've never seen you cry before! Oh my G-d.....!"

But basically the past 24 hours have been a cry fest. Just sitting in my room? Yup, I'm crying. Taking a shower? Yup, you betcha, I'm crying. Last night I tried watching "Bridget Jones" which was my "I had a bad day" movie in high school and....indeed, I was crying again.

I figured I'd get out of my room today and see a movie, and I picked "Australia." Usually during emotional movies my eyes might tear up a bit or something, but that's about it. Today though, for almost a full three hours I was crying. Thank G-d it was an empty matinee.

A new low for me though? Yes, I actually cried THROUGH THE FUCKING TRAILERS! No, the trailers were not particularly sad. It was more like, "Oh my gaa-aaaaaaadd, [*sob*] they have a [*sniff*] do-o-o-o-g!!!!! [*bawl*] And its name [*choke*] is [*sob*] Marle-hee-heeeeeeeee!!!!!"


Well, speaking of "Australia," I thought it had its flaws, but otherwise was just the kind of movie I wanted to see today. My big problem though is that I always associate Hugh Jackman with "Oklahoma!" See, in "X-Men" the urge to picture Wolverine bursting out and singing the title song is not as strong, since "X-Men" has little in common with "Oklahoma!" In fact, when I first found out that the guys from "Oklahoma!" and "X-Men" were the same guy, I totally didn't believe it. Wolverine is much too hairy.
Unfortunately for "Australia," the atmosphere of "Oklahoma!" is very similar. You know, country folk and cattle from an earlier time. So basically the entire film I was waiting for Hugh Jackman to start singing "Oh What a Beautiful Morning!"



....which, surprise surprise, never happened. So in the sense that Hugh Jackman never burst into a Rodgers and Hammerstein inspired musical number, "Australia" was extremely disappointing. But in the sense that the movie was 3 hours of a scruffy cowboy with a sexy accent walking around and doing things....the movie totally delivered.

But that scruffiness was another problem. If its cowboy-ish-ness made the film seem too much like "Oklahoma!" then the fact that Hugh Jackman was unbelievably filthy and hairy for the vast majority of the film made "Australia" too much like "X-Men." To the point where I was afraid Hugh Jackman's claws were suddenly going to spring out and slice up poor Nicole Kidman and totally destroy the romantic aspects of the film.

So, for better or for worse, Hugh Jackman never burst into song and never extended his claws. But go see the movie.

Let's play guess what the hell this says in Hebrew

Was reading the "רכילות" section of ynet when I came across this caption:

וואן ביג הפי פמילי

And for a solid minute I kept trying to sound it out to no avail. And FINALLY it dawned on me:

One Big Happy Family!


Jeez, you'd think reading transliterated English would be easier than actual Hebrew, but NO!

I now have a visa, a flight, and I'm no longer a college student (starting next week). AND MY PARENTS KNOW.

Turns out the ulpan in Jerusalem is full, which is actually good news for me since I didn't want to live in Jerusalem in the first place--the aliyah center lady just sort of decided I should go there. So now I'm thinking of going to Haifa, my fantasy city on a hill, and finding a room, and......WHAT COMES NEXT?!?!?!?!

HOLY FUCKING BALLS THIS IS EXCITING!

"Nothing good can come of this!" --dad

"Did it ever occur to you that it sucks to live in Israel so THAT'S why they're gonna pay you for immigrating?! I mean, WE got people climbing the fucking fences to get in." --dad

BOKER TOV, CHICAGO!

I will say, as much as I hate Chicago and its weather.......there's is absolutely nothing like going to sleep when it's rainy and ugly out only to wake up and find that it is COMPLETELY white and snowy outside. Beautiful! Unfortunately, I have to walk through it this morning and drive through it this afternoon, so the beauty is short-lived.