WHICH SURPRISED HER. (Old Blog)
- PRETTIER THAN A MUD BATH -
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Thursday, October 19, 2006
... you're dead.
Hi, My name is Uzi Saghi and I was hit by a tidal wave.
Which is a pity, bcs today you would have been 30 years old. I celebrated my 30th with you remember? You and your brothers threw my chair in the air, as Jews are wont to. You wore a black turtleneck and a ponytail and looked absolutely smashing, as you were wont to. You didn't even own a jumper when we first met and all of a sudden there you were, looking terribly European.
It is your birthday today and I think that is why my words have gone. I haven't had a lot to say in a nlong, long while. If I had words, I'd have to use them to talk abt you, and to tell people how I hoped I would be brave enough to face your photos this year so I could scan them, and show the world how absolutely beautiful you were, face of an archangel and the soul to match. I thought I might send them to your mum as well.
I cannot bear to look at them yet, I simply cannot bear to.
You would have been 30 years old, and now you are, what? Where? They have therapy on earth, which is a good thing bcs this little death of yours it doesn't seem to be getting any easier to accept. If anything, the feeling of unrealitty, of surreality has increased. Sadly, I should have been in therapy before your death, not sought it after it, for I flee and isolate myself when reality just doesn't live up to its expectations so I tend to only visit my psychiatrist once in a very irregular while. Not conducive to a greater well being but I am too weary to care.
Remember how your mum once gently urged me to not rely on my lazy ovaries to ensure I'd not get pregnant? It was a very horrifying moment, only surpassed by your sister explaining to your mum and I, using your penis as an example, how to apply one of those penile fishing flies or something or other we'd just come across in a magaine. Your mum was just so worried I'd get pregnant (ha!) and we'd have a baby (ha!) and your life woudl be ruined (heheeeeeee!). I suppose we all wish your life had been ruined, yes? It'd make missing you easier to bear.
Happy fucking birthday.
And look at what lovely Cat wrote. They share a birthday. She remembers.
Labels: Uzi my Tig
Friday, October 13, 2006
And Uzi, Uzi would turn 30 in 6 days.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
I'm off to Barcelona for a few days, have never been there so am quite excited. Well, quite is a bit of an exaggeration since I am too knackered to muster a proper degree of excitement. But I've always thought I'd love Barcelona. Actually, have always thought a priori that I'd be mad abt Sushi, Barcelona and Boston. Was right abt the sushi, we'll see abt the rest.
An easy fast for those of you who'll need it and everyone, have a brilliant week.
Labels: My Own Private Yorkshire
Thursday, September 07, 2006
EH STOP LIKE IDIOT FORGT MOST IMP NEWS STOP QUIT SMOKNG 18 DAYS AGO STOP *AUTO-SMOOCH* STOP
Friday, August 18, 2006
My friend and I loved our time there, and she and the dog bonded:
Teasing an exceedingly hysterical dog is almost too easy.
Sometimes she even needs to be restrained.
What one should NOT do, I learnt, is turn one's back on one's exceedingly hysterical dog, or this will happen.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Physician, heal thyself
WARNING: if the mention of flesh + cuts makes you queasy read the psoriasis bit only bcs I just took a blade to myself, in the best possible way. Oh yes I did! I'll tell you when to stop further down.
Abt 2 months ago I started feeling something hard on top of my ear cartilage, where it joins the head. It wasn't painful for a while but it bothered me just being there. Then it started getting bigger and squishy and it became obvious it was filled with pus. So one day I disinfected the whole area and my hands and gave it a few good, determined squeezes (it was quite deep), and pus did shoot out and the pressure relief was immediate. So I cleaned and disinfected again, and thought Now it will remain open and drain and that's the end of it.
How I sometimes manage to forget I have psoriasis even when I don't have any visible psoriasis is beyond me, truly it is.
So, to recap. I have psoriasis, have had it for 30 years (yey moi!). Psoriasis is a systemic disease and does not very pretty things to your body inside and out, and that is why I am barred - barred! - from giving blood bcs, it stands to reason, anyone who is given blood is in dire straits and the last thing they need is blood riddled - riddled! - with inflammatory cells, all mine, all ever-present. I entertained thought of being able to be a bonemarrow donor bcs, I was told, there was a friendly little machine that could filter the bad, bad cells and collect the good, good ones. As it turns out, all my cells are the omegas of the playground and therefore to be shunned - shunned! - at all times. In a country where so many should give blood and do not, and where even less are bonemarrow donors, this breaks my heart in a way I cannot even appropriately convey bcs I would, see, if I could.
Now, as far as diseases go, psoriasis is a little incompetent overachiever. Other people regenerate their cells in abt 28 days? We'll do it in 7! Sometimes 6! Sometimes 4! Hey, but what abt the cells that aren't quite dead yet? Never mind that, we'll just shove them up to the surface realllllly fast, and then they can all clump together and look reddishly half-alive in a most disconcerted way, and then we can call even more inflammation mediators - ooh, they're coming - and then the whole can look even redder! And scalier! It doesn't even look human anymore. And in the winter it will hurt like bloody hell bcs the skin barrier is broken.
And one of the - for you - hidden beauties of them is that no cut, however simple, is just that. You see, any skin wound turns into a love fest, no wound heals normally, it immediately turns into a psoriasis lesion JUST BECAUSE IT CAN. It's like cloning with a nudge. So pardon me if I am wary of thorns and claws [just made myself snort bcs avoiding claws is so bloody easy for a vet isn't it] bcs it's begging for trouble, one single scratch can make my dormant beauty wake up, stretch and dilligently go to work, not to mention that lesions are symmetrical, so if I get one on the left a new one will arrive without fail on the right side, approximately in the same place. It would be fascinating if I weren't the most unwilling canvas. It's called the Koebner phenomenon/isomorphic response, and I share it with sufferers from e.g. lichen, warts, systemic juvenile rheumatoid arthritis and something called molluscum contagiosum which, frankly, always - ALWAYS - makes me think of a randy little STD-dripping lobster with an Australian accent.
Back to the cyst/abscess/something, how silly of me to think it would stay open and drain. Of course it didn't bcs while squeezing I made the surrounding skin bleed the tiniest bit and what have we learnt? Koebner ensures it all becomes covered by a thick, semi-transparent slice of - whatever it is. It doesn't look like a psoriasis lesion, just like some very aggravated something in between. Wish I had saved it, I could post a pic, wouldn't you have loved that, my pretties? The end result was that it filled up again and there was no way that the pressure would be enough for it to burst through the skin. Removing the what-have-you scab doesn't work either bcs, of course, it just builds another one even thicker and faster. In my experience, if you keep pulling it it will eventually heal WITHOUT turning into psoriasis but that has only worked with very, very small scabs bcs anything bigger hurts and could get infected so I don't even try it.
THIS IS WHERE YOU SHOULD STOP READING IF YOU'RE NOT CUT-FRIENDLY.
Abt an hour ago I had a feel again and it was bigger and absolutely filled with pus, I could actually hear the sound of the fluid swishing around. My worry was that said pus would inevitably end up going inside rather than outside, and hallo, there's my inner ear right there, and there's my brain not too far off, and the pressure was driving me absolutely bonkers so it NEEDED TO DRAIN. All of a sudden I remembered I still had some unopened scalpel blades from when I used to dissect those poor sheep and I went hunting for one. And I found it. I cleaned the area just like they do in the hospital (hydrogen peroxide and then betadine), I washed and scrubbed and disinfected my hands and I positioned myself in front of the mirror. It's an awkward spot but was still very visible (it would, in fact, be very hard to miss it). The first tiny cut didn't hurt too much, it was more of an impression freally, but I realised that I was doing it too far below. I pricked the top and WHAT A RELIEF! This thickish chord of pus trickled down immediately, and I had my hydrogen peroxide-gauze ready to help it along with some gentle pressure (I also covered my ear, no worries). When it slowed down I enlarged the cut and some more pus came out. And then I disinfected the whole thing again, and applied a plaster over it so the betadine-soaked gauze ball could work its magic some more, and I am hopeful that, bcs it's a deeper, larger cut it will not close again and that this will be the end of it. Also, I will be bathing it in salt water regularly for the next week/fortnight. And finally, I will be going to the beach with Shrimpy's Tweedle equivalent who became my friend as well, and she too is a Dr. How practical! How terribly clever of me! The only way I'll become ill is if I a) avoid her eagle eyes and b) cannot be done at all. So it all seems to be going well, and I am EXTREMELY proud of myself! I didn't expect it to hurt loads so it's not a case of my having been exceedingly brave but there's still a bit of horror involved in deep-cutting your own flesh. But the relief, oh I cannot begin to describe the relief! It is stinging a bit but well, it's just been cut open and liberally doused with H2O2 and betadine, what else could it be doing.
I lanced my own abscess, people! *pats back*
So yes, off to the beach tomorrow where, alas, I'll have no internet connection. It's positively primitive but it can't be helped. ?
On a fluffy note, yesterday I took extra care of my hair, then exfoliated and then exfoliated some more, then applied some self-tanner (Kanebo, I've found Kanebo here! *SWOON*), and re-applied again - and I now sport a very healthy glow. Also, lost my mind completely and bought Estée Lauder's Perfectionist CP+ bcs all the fashion blogistas I read rave abt it so much. It costs 100 euros here, ONE HUNDRED EUROS. It's obscene, thoroughly disgusting. Am still in a bit of a shock, to tell you the truth, but sometime life needs to be shown what we want rather than holding out till it is the way it should be for us to actually get the things we want to. Yes? And the serum DOES make your skin immediately velvety, so I am hopeful I will come back looking fabulously rested and fabulously fabulous.
Friday, July 28, 2006
I'm feeling better.
All right, better might be stretching it a bit, what I am is not caring abt the amount of exams that will await me in September. Imagiology went abysmally, the exam was much, much more difficult than the last one. In a few hours (less than 9) I will be circling random letters again, for the most part. Crop circles but not a good year for wine at all. I cannot bring myself to study one iota more bcs everything becomes one big word after a very short while. Enough. And bcs I do not feel like reading [not one bit, serioulsy] [and this is as bad as it gets] I have been watching series and films.
The Matrix Revolutions? Bros on crack. Oh! Have just realised, bcs I was skipping forward the boring parts (movie went rather fast at that) I managed to miss the infamous highway scene! What I like are the machine fighting anyway so all's good. But eh, rather poor film, what could they possibly have been thinking. [And when did Jada whatchmacallit Smith become a tiny, muscled little man? Her facial bones are broadening for fuck's sake! Get off the exerciser bfr you grow a penis, woman. ]
Am thoroughly in love with Cesar ... - eh, forgot his name. That dog chap, The Dog Whisperer. I'll have a small Californian moment now [hi, V.]: he has such good energy. That man sparkles inside out and it makes me all woofy to think of those dogs whose lives he's changed so radically, so much for the better! I believe I will apply some of my new-found knowledge to my dog - she needs it. Er, I need it. We all do. It is true, he trains the owners, and rehabs the dogs. I cannot believe the gift that man has, he is absolutely the canine Monty Roberts version. [If you haven't read the book or seen any of his work STOP NOW and go get them. Run! He tames wild horses with nothing but his voice, a towel, a riding hall, and abt what, 40 min? Mind-blowing. The first part of the book is utterly fascinating.]
I am not seriously worried abt myself. I mean, I am. My life isn't really good,a nd I have two more years of this madness. But I can still throw in words like procure [why didn't anyone call me pedantic? No fun this way.] so am not too worried. I would never leave vet school, ever. It might kill me but if it does it'll go down with me. I haven't been sacrificing myself for the past 5 years to abandon it all, I have the rest of my life to look forward to. I have what I think are very valid fears regarding the vast expansion of my ignorance and don't see how that will ever, EVER be any different. How on earth will I learn outside of school everything I should have learnt IN school? Bleak.
Went and got my new car [Got to the April archives if you want to see it, it's within the post in small font that tells the story of my miscarriage, I think. Too blah to go look and link]. My new car kicks ass, and the dog, to my humungous surprise, rides much more quietly in the back. rides quietly, full stop. And said back is now covered in brand new rubber - rubber! - mats, to which NO HAIRS STICK. Sadly, the back and the sides are covered but NO HAIRS ON THE SEATS. None. It's like - it's a bloody miracle, that's what it is.
Oh, another good one - Child of Our Time. It is what happens when BBC excellency [well, here at least] meets Prof. Robert Winston. Google it now. One of the things I want to do while I'm away, without my beloved internet, is to write a post abt the series, it should be absolutely mandatory for anyone who is a parent, plans to be a parent, wants to be a parent, works with children, is interested in boy/girl development, to watch this. Again, mind-blowing. Again, so funny how so many so desperately want to make the cultural bit be responsible for all that we are [and of course, how funny the opposite]. Expect loads of bio-antropological bruaha when I come back.
[Oh Udge, what I meant was, it can be said in English but it's one of those situations where one language is particularly adept at conveying the exact emotion and that'd be German this time. Just like Ihr koennt mich alle mal, no good way to really translate the feeling as brilliantly and elegantly as this in English. I use it often.]
- Millan, Cesar Millan! He also has the most darling accent ever, and usually I don't find the Spanish one all that charming. And his English mistakes - oh he's just adorable.
And you lot? You kick ass even more than my sexy car does. Thank you. Smooches to all.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
What you want from me?
I don't know what to do. I stopped studying abt 3 h ago bcs I couldn't stand it anymore. I couldn't, and I can't. I simply cannot bear to look at the same sentences over and over again to have them not be memorised. What the fuck am i doing w my life? I am 35 years old and live like an empoverished student, will it be worth it? What if I find out that a) I am not a good vet after all, wouldn't that be a laugh and/or b) I hate it, absolutely hate it? I see students from other universities whose vet degrees are shaped like human medicine, like the things you see on the telly. They have clinical rotations. Their programs are serious, they are taken seriously, they take themselves seriously. Me? I feel like a fraud. Our university is proudly said to be the glory of the country. I think glory got mixed up with cesspit, I am in the 3rd year and what the bloody hell have I learnt? As good as nothing. We are not taught to think as doctors, we are taught to memorise and spew and forget. I don't understand how I could have had 12 exams last semester in close to 3 weeks and passed them all, I truly don't,a nd this semester I have far less and am failing abysmally. This semester I am tired. I don't want to do this anymore, not like this, this is too hard, this is too little. I had 7 subjects this semester, which makes 11 exams. [Oh wait, 11 exams? Really? Well, still.] I passed a few and then - Biochem (8 out of 20 which isn't bad considering most of it was random circling); Imagiology - no time to prepare whatsoever bcs we had 2 days in btwn exams so welcome to a 6, lovely grade, the 6; I didn't even attempt to write Anat Path II bcs, again, no time to prepare bcs was desperately trying to intuit which of the 400 pages i should devote myself to in the 2 or 3 days I had to study; didn't attempt Pharmacology either bcs am absolutely lost w the calculations for prescriptions and besides it's 3 exams in a row, from 9-14h, and then from 14-16h there was Biochem so I chose Biochem instead and cannot even ironically say Well chosen bcs of prescriptions and had I failed that one and passed the other 2 with smashing grades I'd still be forced to re-write them all bcs the grades are not kept for the September exams, how lovely. Did go to the 2nd Biochem exam again but really, this time I don't think I have managed more than a 6, this season's numerology session brought to you by What Was She Thinking When She Thought She Could Be a Vet. I will be writing Imagiology in a few hours and really, why even bother. I will go but what's the point. And then I have 2 days bfr Path Anat II, and although I find it interesting it's one of the hardest for me to study bcs we do not have a book, it's basically notes written by the teacher and by some students, and I have the sort of brain that needs context to memorise, otherwise there is no earthly reason why impetigo cannot be intertigo and vice-versa. So that too shall be fun.
I know this semester was made worse bcs I had the miscarriage and it took me forever to recover, and bcs I wasted all that time on the stupid translation, sod the man, for absolutely nothing, but what's the point of knowing why? I am tired, tired, tired. I have been studying for 5 years and have not had a holiday the whole time bcs August was needed for the September exams. I am, obviously, reactively depressed. I know this shall pass. But fuck me if I have the strength to really believe in it, it's a dark, dark tunnel from where I am standing. I still have not passed this year, need to pass one more subject bfr that happens. If I fail Biochem (and a miracle would be needed for me not to have) I will leave it for next year bcs this September will see following subjects: Path Anat I [1 exam] (the last of the 12 exams was on a Thursday, a Biochem-related subject though less difficult, Path Anat I was the very next Friday, I did go and circle random letters but we know how lucky I am with that don't we); Pharmacology [3 exams in a row]; and if I fail Imagiology tomorrow and Path Anat II on Frid, add those as well. So anywhere from 4 to 6 exams in any period from a few days to a fortnight.
My new car, the one my parents bought me for my birthday, the one whose deal was signed around the day I had my miscarriage over three months ago, that car will arrive this Thursday. Don't even ask, this is yet again one of my country's equivalent of my vet degree. On Mon I will go away w a friend for 8-10 days, to the beach. I have downloaded films and series and am procuring books from my library-friend (the one person I know who buys as many as I do). And yet I am not even looking forward to it [what I want to say is kann mich nicht mal drauf freuen] bcs I don't think I can feel all that much anymore, am strangely depleted. The one thing I can still feel is a quasi sense of relief bcs Uzi most absolutely cannot be killed in the war. Thank you, tsunami motherfucker, for the almost gratitude that I can at least be be spared his death now.
Am tired, is all. Wish I were my dog.
Monday, July 24, 2006
I never really laugh out loud while reading but, by golly!
Don't worry, I have not been assaulted or robbed or anything else that would result in a police report. It was the weirdest thing---I was reading in the window seat, and this rather large-bottomed woman boarded the train and made these elaborate preparations to sit down next to me. She pivoted so that she was perpendicular to the seat, backed up very very close to me, and slowly started to lower her ass down. I had time to think, "wait a minute, this chick is going to sit on me" and also to think, "I am being paranoid, people don't just deliberately sit on other people" as the ass descended and then boom, it happened. I made some noise, halfway in between "oof" and "what the fuck?" and sort of pushed at her with my forearms, and she very calmly said, "Oh, I'm terribly sorry" and moved over to the empty seat.
And I sat there angry and bewildered and WHY DID THIS PERSON SIT ON ME. Does a fully-clothed, public-place, sitting on people by "accident" fetish exist? Could a spatial-perception disorder or severe nearsightedness really make someone misjudge a distance that badly? Had I briefly turned invisible?
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
What to do when you're worrying abt living friends, dead ones (though less bcs it's a bit redundant), exams and the size of your arse
When I was abt 15 I started carrying a little book around with me so I could write down the inanities I heard bcs some things were simply too funny to be forgotten. Funnily enough I figure prominently in it bcs I was the one variable that never changed and no one forgave me a single inanity. [I disbelieve what a bleeding idiot I can be at times.] One day, when I feel up to writing my Kibbutz Volunteer Memoirs, I'll go foraging for the relevant one bcs there was one volunteer in particular who was very, very blonde. The a-tad-unwashed sort at that.
Fortunately, Kuhn was right and I have just found a site that emulates that fine spirit of yore. Sadly, it comes with headlines but stick to the post itself and you'll find your slapping impulses greatly reduced. But look, LOOK:
Saleslady: Where are you from?
Tourist: Kansas City.
Saleslady: There's a city in Kansas? Like with buildings?
Saleslady: Tall ones?
Just like The Little Notebook!
Now I won't have to resort to becoming a drunk, will remain awake and worried but too entertained to care.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Am I going mad? or what to do when hallucinations start
I am watching that nice, well-spoken Saeb Erekat being interviewed from Jerusalem [is that Prada?] and my mandible has joined my toe ring, the journalist is scolding him - scolding him! - bcs the Palestinians did elect Hamas for the government willingly and what did they expect from the Israelis then. And now the journalist is berating the Palestinians again! [Erekat's response: in their defence, Hamas has not fired a shot against Israelis all year, one shot. I think these Palestinian leaders think our leaders divert humanitarian money into their bank accounts as well and we are too starved and uneducated to think properly. I am so relieved Hamas has only been suicidebombing Israel, if they'd used guns they might have injured someone.]. And the journalist is now calling the Palestinian Gov powerless in a most disapproving manner! [Response: Abumazar's hands are tied and frankly, no one is helping him much are they. I mean the Israelis... And the Hamas... What's one single man to do under these circumstances.]
Personally, I think if the Israelis had a modicum of strategic sense they'd have celinedioned the region long ago and we'd have had peace for a good while now.
[Notice how daftly I have avoided mentioning all sorts of liquidy news that start with a T. Did you notice then? I AM that good.]
(And I agree with Imshin.)
Monday, July 17, 2006
Bcs I feel like screaming but am afraid I'd never be able to stop if I started so went and found manageable horrors.
Now go read David. Again.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Israel at war??
Of course israel is being criticised by Europe for, what's the word I am looking for, right, PROTECTING ITSELF! I suppose if any other country had their soldiers kidnapped and their towns bombarded by missiles they'd just say Those boys... and dismiss it w the wave of their hands. Fuck. FUCK FUCK FUCK!
Go to Treppenwitz's, I'm too mad to make any sense and don't understand it all yet.
Abandon Hope, All Ye...
I cannot believe this is my life.
Welcome to 1st semester Biochem, and part of Microbiology [to note: Bacteriology, Viroloy, Immunology]. I've saved everyting that may one day come in handy - which means the whole of Biochem lies in that pile, along with my soul. This semester's Biochem pile will be even lovelier, 400 plus pages of absolutely useless information that I will never, ever need. If I ever manage to pass it that is. I swear I'll set them on fire when the day comes. And I shall howl and foam at the mouth and cackle madly and let my inner Biochem troll dance wildly abt the flames, like a very, very wizened faun. This is my nemesis, it's not even a language I understand. It is so much worse than bones. AND WE ALL REMEMBER THE OSTHEOLOGY NIGHTMARE THAT I CALLED LIFE FOR SO LONG, YES?
[I've just re-read the comments, look for mine, #11, oh the mirth, the mirth! Lioness, The Will-To-Live-Slayer-cum-Toothsayer.]
Pathological Anatomy tomorrow but LALALALA MUST READ INSTYLE NOW.
Monday, July 10, 2006
This post brought to you by Smoked Reindeer Meat
[Was just reminded of a story abt how there was a song called I should have known better eons ago and how my mum won a radio contest bcs of it but it's funny and and I am fully determined to write a depressing post.]
Biochem exam on Friday was quite horrific, Imagiology today equally horrific, the thought of having to ever look at those particular textbooks even more horrific. There are other adjectives but they too are horrific, everything is, so why bother. I was determined to write it down within a post, biocontainment of sorts. I thought it might not seem to hopeless then. I was so very wrong. It now looks hopeless in writing as well. Horrific. I have two days to memorise all things anatomically pathological bfr the next exam on Thursday, TWO WHOLE DAYS. I am so mad at my colleagues for being the greatest amoebas that ever breathed and only waking up to wring their hands and wail in the mailing list, and for ensuring we're treated with such respect - so mad, in fact, that I've emerged apathetic from the other side. Sie koennen mich alle mal.
And do you know, Uzi is also horrifically dead. And I know that bcs I am watching an Ally McBeal rerun and I cannot ring him and tell him abt it so we can laugh together. I could, and I am quite sure his answering machine would talk to me again and I don't see how that would be any less horrific. Watching Ally McBeal on the kibbutz was a humungous production that required gallons of coke, garinim galore and at least 5 people piled up on every flat and not so flat surface. Lila used to say she reminded her of me - not bcs we look alike but bcs our faces are equally mobile and mine gives me away equally often. So yes, Ally McBeal, which I've been desensitising myself to watch again bcs I simply need to be able to watch it bcs now I'm doing it for two. HA! A bit like a Pregnancy From The Crypt.
And do you know what a man said to me today? He said I don't understand how one person can need so many bags. I repeat, I don't understand how one person can need so many bags. I said, quite calmly [Which Surprised Her For He Was Blasphemous] You are a man [bless], how could you possibly. And he [bless] said Even if I were a woman I wouldn't need more than two. Bless him.
Friday, July 07, 2006
The miscarriage that keeps on giving - UPDATE
Monday, July 03, 2006
Sightseeing in Tel Aviv, HELP!
I really don't know TA all that well.
[Do bookshops count?]
Yes, yes, I was a kibbutznik [MUCH better fashion sense though] [eh, not that it takes much] [er, sorry]. I loved being away from the madness of the city, loved stepping out of the room and being amidst the birds and trees and shrubs and Palestinian Mole Rats (an actual animal, don't be silly). I even loved the refet smell, what you want from me? I dislike Techno and the other lovely musical style whose name I cannot remember, that alone severly affected my noctivagal habits. The best fun I had clubbing in Israel was actually dining-rooming, a few stacks of hay to protect against the cold, an 80's DJ and let's show these soldiers-to-be off properly! Fun, fun, fun. FUN! Also, going to TA w Uzi meant book-hunting, full-stop, that's all we wanted really.
Other than Yaffo am a bit stumped. Not to mention restaurants and such. Will even allow anon comments for this one, and tnx in advance.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
We made a grown man cry
I am now, officially, a bloody supporter of the bloody World Cup.
There, I've said it.
The reason I found it so bloody annoying is, we are a disgrace as a nation. Our economy is in shambles, our life quality is distressing (we pay as much taxes as the Germans and make 40% less), our social and moral values are fickle (we are the European country that works the longest hours and produces the least, lovely work ethic) , our drive, as a people, is non-existent. And we're PROUD of it.
Except, find 22 men and a stupid little round ball and every Portie who finds it too exerting to walk a few metres to throw his wrapper in the rubbish bin, thereby being forced to just weakly let it float to the nearest piece of ground available, will get off his arse and become energetic and make sacrifices and - do you know how many men flew to Germany for the cup? How many men from not so well-off families? We'll be forced to eat pasta w olive oil till December but by Golly I'll be there to support our men! !!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We have an identity now, and it's centred on a little rolling piece of leather, and it vanishes the moment the more recent memories of the Cup do. And that breaks my heart and makes me mad, it makes me so bloody mad bcs we could be better than this, we used to be better than this and where did it all go, exactly?
The Porties, the Seafarers, could now circumnavigate their home sinks, maximum, and even that might prove too taxing. I have long been ashamed of Amnesty in Portugal, and recently of Amnesty as a whole. That isn't all, sadly. [Maybe I have a lower disgracefulness threshold?] When I say that we are the greatest nation in the North of Africa - that is no joke. I am ashamed of my country as well. I wouldn't be if we were poor and helpless and trying. But we're not. We're poor (yet expensive), and weak (except re little round ball) and trying? Wha? What others think of us is terribly important, what we think of ourselves - well, as long as we still manage to fly to Cuba every year all is well. Nacional-porreirismo is what we call it, no easy way to translate this. Porreiro means cool, good. How are you? I'm porreiro, pá, and you? How's the job? Porreiro, pá, they don't give me much grief. And there's a fair amount of shrugging involved, Shoulder Shrugging elevated to an exact and multi-faceted science, with many a gradation. You could go for a minute without needing to actually speak. Basically, national-porreirism is the quintessence of Portieness, and it amounts to I don't care what happens as long as it doesn't happen to me, and even if it does doing something abt it might just be too much of a bother.
Football, as the very last bastion of our national identity, is a depressing sight. But there is a certain beauty to how much they care, and to, during the Cup, having the bloody little round leather ball approach either of the goals. Even my heart skips a bit, and Loverboy's misses an MI for reasons not yet understood. So, yes, I hope we win. It would make my men happy, and we haven't fucked with the Brazilians in centuries. That isn't right. [Note: we'll have to kick froggie ass now, Brazil's just been eliminated. Oh well.]
Plus, today we did make the Brits cry. HA! Nothing warms my heart more than teary hooligans.
Oh oh! Almost forgot, the hooligan bit reminded me, this is the best, di absoliute bést! One of the neo-na*is I wrote abt in April is actually my neighbour. Porreiro, yes? A few weeks ago I was grocery shopping and what do I see? Said neo-na*i in full regalia, i.e.:
- Black t-shirt
- Black combat [ha!] pants
- Black combat [ha!] boots
- Bad hair
- Short stature
- His mummy
That's right, that fierce example of humanity was CHOOSING PRODUCE WITH MUMMY, isn't that adorable? I love my neighbour as myself.
[Excuse my absence from blogs, exam Monday and 4 more on Friday. FOUR. On Friday. 3 Pharmac, 1 Biochem, latter will attend to circle random answers. Too ominous. Also, anon commenters no longer allowed, sorry, bcs some people STILL have not realised I find them ugly and vulgar and wish for no part of them on my blog, no matter how disguised they think they are.]
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Done, done, DONE!
[This is to blame for my recently acquired orange-y hair. Mirrors hurt.]
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Everyone shut the bloody hell up!
They are exhausted. Exhausted.