Angry Olim, The Army, and Teen Angst

So I found out today that some veteran olim (olim=immigrants, for my non-Jewish friends out there) get really offended when you ask where they are from. Today a woman came in and was speaking Hebrew to the Women of the Wash. It was very obvious from how she dressed, from her body language, and most of all from her accent that she was American. She then slipped into English, and was chatting for a bit with Ayin Bitch. She said hi to me, and so I, trying to be friendly by making conversation, asked, “So where are you from?” And then she got all snooty and huffy. She admitted that she was from New York “waaaaaaaaaay back when” and insisted that she was hardly from the U.S. She angrily insisted that she had been in Israel for “soooooooo long now” that it was like she was from Israel. And then she stormed out of the room.

Speaking of Americans, I felt like the entire Jewish population of the state of New York was in the laundry room today. Jesus H. Christ, how many Americans live on this fucking kibbutz? Except, excuse me, according to them they’re not really Americans, because they all deny they are American. Look, I totally understand that when you move to a new country you want to adapt to local customs and you want to be as native as possible, but let’s face it—unless you move at a really young age you’ll always be very American. I totally accept this. I totally accept that I might eventually be 83 and living in Israel, and I’ll STILL have a ridiculous American accent, and I’ll STILL watch the Super Bowl, and I’m STILL gonna be tempted to have a bbq on July 4th and Memorial Day (not Israeli Memorial Day). I accept it. And when people hear my accent and want to know where in the states I’m from, I’m not gonna get angry, I’m just gonna tell them that I come from Los Angeles. Because I do. What’s to be angry or embarrassed about? In fact, if I’m 83 and still living in Israel, I’m gonna flat-out brag about how I adopted Israel as my home but how I don’t actually come from here (at least not in the literal sense), because then I can brag about how this one time I moved to Israel completely alone when I was 19 and I’m still living here. And everyone will be like, “Aw eff, Sam, you’re such a badass!” Except they’ll say it in Hebrew.

Today I had to ask for a day off from work on Sunday (I still can’t get over the fact that I work on Sunday. Every single time I think about it, I want to yell, “But it’s the Lawwwwwwwwd’s Day!” with a big southern drawl, and then I remember that Saturday is actually “The Lawd’s Day,” and that I had only forgotten this because I grew up in a Christian country) to go to Tel Aviv to talk to the army people. So I told French Bitch, and Ayin Bitch overheard. At first I thought they were going to get angry and tell me that I couldn’t miss work for that kind of thing. It’s kind of like how everyone always hates you when you take off work for jury duty, but it’s like not your fault, you’re just doing your civic duty. Holy. Fucking. Balls. How wrong was I? Um, let’s see:

Even though I clearly expressed that nothing was final yet and that I might not even be able to join, the fact that I wanted to join the army caused French Bitch and Ayin Bitch to come running over to me to hug me and create a fuss over me. Other women came running towards me to create even more of a joyous fuss because French Bitch and Ayin Bitch called out to the other women that I wanted to join the army. Not that I was for sure joining the army, but just that I wanted to. Holy shit, a massive celebration broke out. Out of nowhere, fruit was shoved into my face for me to consume. I’ve never seen such a [happy] commotion in the laundry room.

Fuck, now they’re going to hate me if I am not able to enlist…..

And fuck am I going to be in so much trouble with my parents.


P.S. Tomorrow begins my last week as a teenager. Is there anything extremely teenager-y that I should do before I turn 20 next Saturday? I was thinking I could get in a fight with my parents, I could have a crush on someone, I could dot my i’s with hearts, I could read TeenCosmo or TeenPeople, I could have some really bad teen angst, and I could wear matching clothing with my girlfriends….. and then the second we hit 5:50 AM Pacific Standard Time on June 28th, it’ll all end. Cos I won’t be a teen any longer. Please send me any suggestions you have of what else I could do before I lose my right as a teen to do them.

P.P.S. The song “When You Believe” from “The Prince of Egypt” came on the radio today. And I didn’t have to out-diva anyone because I was the only person in the room. It was cosmically wonderful timing. So I just belted it, with my horrible voice and all. It was great because you know how whenever there’s multiple people singing in harmony or in slightly layered verses and you want to sing both parts, but it’s kind of embarrassing to do it when other people around (because you look/sound like an idiot because it’s not physically possible to do it alone)? Well, I got to do it. You know what I’m talking about.

FINALLY: THE NEW ADAM SANDLER MOVIE IS OUT IN ISRAEL NOW. I MUST SEE IT. IMMEDIATELY.