Yom Hazikaron (Still Not Israeli)

Dammit! I did it again. (I almost sounded like Britney there.)

This time, wearing an orange polo. Of course I slept on a couch in Jerusalem last night so it's not like I had much choice.

Racing back to Tel Aviv for the fun to begin tonight. Details to come.

Chag Ha'atzmaut Sameach, wherever you are.

Well, It Was Fun While It Lasted...Get Ready, I'm About to Get Serious Again

Any of my long-time readers notice the serious amount of posts over the last month? Let's just say that I've had a fair amount of time on my hands. April officially became my most prolific month of writing last week and with a few more good days, the previous record of 21 posts in December was going to be left behind like a piece of half-eaten shnitzel at closing time. (I don't know what it means either, I'm riffing, baby!)

Much as it pains me to make fun of this wonderful country less than the current pace (especially after hitting 'refresh' on my statcounter every 3.4 seconds since March), be prepared, it's about to happen. For a good cause.

Anyone who knows me knows that my connection to this country comes from many years of involvement in Young Judaea, both as a kid and as a professional. (Ech omrim "product placement"? I should really get paid for these plugs. "I sure do love blogging! And when I'm done, nothing hits the spot like a big-ass bag of bissli grill! Those salty corkscrewed critters go crunch! and remind me what it means to be Israeli. So head on down to your local makolet today and remember who sentcha!" cha-CHING! 10 shekels)

This just paid for my arnona.

In the past few months, I've done a few different jobs to "pay the bills" as we say while watching some other really amazing things materialize in my spare time (like the recent Ynet article for example, if you didn't already receive it from me on email, Facebook, Twitter, Friendster, MySpace, postal mail, carrier pigeon, Morse code...)

However, all the exciting stuff hasn't changed the fact that something's not right in my life. Life ain't easy as an oleh chadash and anyone who's ever done it knows what I'm talking about. I'm not going to go into detail but there are ups and downs. One of my personal stumbling blocks to my complete surprise has turned out to be Hebrew. A year and a half ago, I was flying, learning left and right and actually noticing improvement on a daily basis. Yeah, that changed. For a number of reasons, I think my Hebrew has stayed the same and truthfully even gotten worse since this time last year. Any desire I had to make flash cards, translate hip-hop songs into Hebrew (I was singing the chorus of "Ice Ice Baby" to my friend Ziv back in high school), and call my friends fun and inappropriate words has sadly dwindled into nothing. Not being able to communicate is one of the most frustrating feelings I experience and drives me batty. Making a decent salary and making people laugh at arsim just isn't enough...something's missing.

What do you mean "Kerach Kerach Tinok" isn't the correct translation?

Drastic times call for drastic measures. I simply am unable to work for the man, just as I wasn't able to back in the day before I made the big switch to the Jewish world. Good bye, decent pay and short commute. Hello, new job! Tomorrow I begin my working for Israel Experience, the tour operator within the Jewish Agency for Israel. I'll be doing the exact opposite of what I did in New York for Young Judaea: convincing families not to come to Israel for the experience of a lifetime.

(Did anyone believe that? If so, please stop reading.)

Instead of marketing youth programs, I'll be handling the other side of the coin, actually building the programs from this side of the ocean. One of my biggest clients will be birthright israel and I'll be picking hostels, tour guides, hikes, speakers, etc. and making sure the group's needs are being met when they're here. It should be incredibly rewarding and fulfilling and I'll eventually be reporting to someone I've worked with before, the former director of YJ's national summer camp in New York, Camp Tel Yehudah. (Isn't "camp" a weird first name? His parents were hippies. Ok, did anyone believe that? I am losing new readers by the paragraph.)

The work will be great, the environment will be a HEBREW-speaking one, and I think I'm going to love it. As for the daily posts? Well, it was fun while it lasted.

At least I left my last job laughing. I'm sorry, there's nothing funnier than an Israeli singing "Spi-dehr-peeg? Spi-dehr-peeg!" in a heavy Middle Eastern accent. I really need a hidden camera.

Mimouna: Getting in Touch With My Sephardic Side

This is post #2 of the day, my loyal readers. I have a feeling that when I post more than once in a short period, people miss the first one. And if you liked that, you have GOT to see this!!!! Did you click on it??? If not, then you have just GOT to see this!!!!

(It is so often asked: “With Israel 60 years into its existence and clearly no longer in the “chalutzim” era , what can immigrants bring to this country today?” Oh yeah, baby…Rickrolling. When this is written up in Jpost, I want credit, dammit.)

Shmulik: “Nu, be’emet!? Lamah aseeta et ha’Reek rohl alai???”
Dudu: “Cha cha cha cha!!!”

In three years, l’rakrel will be added to Hebrew. Mark my words, people, you heard it here first.)

My favorite song of 8th grade….
You got a problem with that?

Anyway…I remembered today that in the Moroccan culture, the Pesach holiday ends with Mimouna, the celebration of getting to once again eat food which doesn’t do irrevocable damage to your insides. Apparently it’s a big feast with lots of doughy foods and revelry. This is not to be confused with Mayumana which is the Israeli Stomp, or Israeli men dressed as sperm which is just weird.

I hadn’t even heard of this event until moving here. So who’s doing Mimouna around here and wants to invite me? This is blogworthy, baby; Jews around the world need to know about this.)

See you at the gorge-fest! Just call me Nissim.

Deeeeeeeeeeeep Breaths

Here's a story passed on from a friend of mine which made me laugh (we'll call her "Melissa"...classic American Jew name). It sounds like we're cut from the same cloth.

I hear you about choking people who try to cut in line...

Every day I get stressed out waiting for the number 66 monit sheirut. People start to gather and sometimes when one arrives, they swarm. One day, I was there before anyone else and was waiting for at least 10 minutes (longer than usual). When it arrived, this guy started to walk in front of me to get on and I snapped at him (in Hebrew) "I WAS HERE BEFORE YOU!!!" He looked at me with a "jeez, crazy lady" look, then said "I know, don't worry." Of course when I get on, there are like 5 empty seats. I felt like such a schmuck.

I'm with you, Melissa, I'm with you.

Ok, and just because this made me laugh as well, in preparation for the big interview, she and I were engaged in a conversation about what Israeli women are looking for...a gever (a man) or a gever gever (uh...manly man?)

Gever gever is what you described earlier, the macho man of the house, my wife and kids will RESPECT me, kick some ass kind of guy.

Gever is a man who you have confidence in, is confident but not cocky. This is my main, simple definition. He is the opposite of a mama's boy. And it doesn't hurt if he knows how to change a tire (himself, no cheating by calling AAA) and how to set up a tent and build a fire. Don't know why, but those things came to mind. Silly definition I know, but it's mine.

Uhhhhh...anybody want to teach me how to set up a tent? I mean, teach someone else, I mean.... Do they call it Triple Aleph here?

"Ehhhhhhh............."
No, AAA!!!!!

Reason #485 Why You Should Go to Ulpan

Any olim chadashim reading? Like really chadashim? Here’s a tip from Uncle Benji: go to Ulpan. A lot. Like nine times a day. If I could do this whole thing again, I’d take my first 6 months off and do an Ulpan full-time. Of course (all together now): If my aunt had…uh…

Ok, if the guy in the kipah and the extremely tacky t-shirt had a sheidel, he’d be an awkward religious woman.

Ok, what is with the t-shirts in this country?
Seriously. No, SERIOUSLY.

My Hebrew ain’t bad but Naughty by Nature won’t be singing “Feel Me Flow” about it anytime soon. (Hi-do you know me? My name is “worst attempt in history to sound cool.” So nice to meet you.) Just a few days ago, I stopped in Roladin, the bakery chain with a location near where I work. I size up the burekasim and tell the woman behind the counter “shtay tapuach adama, shtay tiras.” (Two potato, two corn) Although only .00323 seconds elapsed before realizing the error of my ways and yelling “tered! tered!” (spinach! spinach!), the damage had been done. I may as well have continued ordering in Martian (do they have an Ulpan for learning that language?)

When I went back today and ordered the same thing, correctly of course, she remembered me and couldn’t hide her smile. I said, “you come to America so I can laugh at you!” to which she answered, "I ehm lahf-eeng weeth you, noht aht you." Right. And Hamas is shooting with Sderot, not at it.

They better not be telling this story at the Roladin company Christmas party. I’m definitely going back in disguise next time.

How I'll be dressed for Roladin next time, or...
Just a typical day on Sderot Rothschild.
(Why does Spiderman need a uni-cycle?)

Well, I guess corn is pretty outrageous to add to foods. It’s not like people here eat corn on pizza or anything.

Oh yeah…YES THEY DOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cue the scary “Psycho” music.
AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH!

This is Why I Created the "Benji's Getting Serious" Category

We interrupt this program for me to break character for a minute. When I started this blog, it was the classic traveler’s journal for family and friends about my life, expectations, experiences, etc. It didn’t take long for me to find my voice and start making fun of everything here (because if you don’t as an immigrant, you might go insane). Rare is the occasion that I share too much about myself, thoughts, feelings, etc. This would be the good time to make the requisite April Fool’s joke about deciding to stop writing this blog out of some ideological reason but I’m a day late and lo ba li (I don’t feel like it).

I just wanted to share the feeling last night I had of being really PUMPED UP. B’kitzur, my friends know I first did stand-up comedy over 10 years ago, on and off for the next several years, more off than on, with years completely off at times. Finally, after numerous efforts over the years to dedicate myself (which truthfully never even got off the ground nor became more than meaningless declarations), I decided before last summer that it was time, and this time I meant it. A series of experiences were enough to “flip the switch” inside me, so to speak. Since September, I have been on a mission, performing at open mic nights in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, paid gigs here and there, private shows for groups, even dragging my butt literally out of bed on Erev Rosh Hashana to the open mic down the street which began past 12:30 AM if memory serves because the voice in my head was yelling at me again and I couldn’t stand to hear it any longer (I was literally lying in bed going to sleep, I didn’t literally drag my butt…is that possible?) It only took a couple of months for me to discern real significant improvement and it’s continued since then with great feedback throughout.

Many Tuesday nights I go to the open mic night at the Camel Comedy Club in Tel Aviv, one of the few comedy clubs in Israel (and I’m talking less than five…another example of how America is the land of everything and lots of it. And by the way, can we do something about that name? This country’s diplomats and shlichim are paid to teach the world that we have thriving cities, cutting-edge technology, and beautiful culture…can we stop giving the American teenagers camel rides when they come here?)

I hate riding my camel in Tel Aviv. Impossible to find parking.

Except for a couple of times, I have been the only American there and I spend my five minutes performing in English for an Israeli crowd who may or may not understand what the heck I’m talking about although to my surprise, the mostly teenage crowd does get most of it (I do however have to change some words here and there and throw in a gratuitous F-word which makes them laugh. "Ha, hu amar ‘fahk’! Ha ha!" People often ask me if I perform in Hebrew and while the answer is no, I have realized that not doing so keeps certain doors closed which I haven’t spent much time worrying about. (There are plenty of opportunities to perform here for English-speakers and plain and simple, my Hebrew ain’t even CLOSE to being good enough…and did I mention that life is busy as an oleh chadash? I have about 485 more important things to worry about like when I’m going to get my Israeli drivers license, buying furniture, and whatever else is always on my to do list. Switching over to Hebrew? One day…)

What am I saying? That although I usually do well at the Camel, there are never any guarantees when I am NOT SPEAKING THE NATIVE LANGUAGE OF THE PAYING AUDIENCE. (Yes, I have spent some time thinking about the complete insanity of this.) I have always believed that as long as I perform in English with the inherent risk that some or a significant percentage of the audience on any given night just won’t get it, I would not be asked by the management to move up and perform another night of the week in a higher-level show. And despite regularly getting one of the better receptions on Tuesday nights, no one has talked to me about moving up.

Until last night. As I was on my way out the door, one of the guys working who I’d not met before called me into his office. I probably didn’t catch every word and don’t even remember what he did say aside from the words “mitkadem” (advance) and “Yom Revi’i” (Wednesday). In this area of my life, I’ve taken most things in stride over the past few months. I am happy to admit that this to me was a beeg deel and it was hard for me to control my excitement as he was talking to me. I took the guy’s number, told him I’d call him, and expect to be on stage there next Wednesday. Five minutes later, I was outside breaking the news to my friends Etan and Amos and an Israeli comic Eyal. After my explaining that this was “a real show!”, Eyal brought me down to earth by saying “well, it’s not exactly a real show”. Ha ha…G-d forbid anything is better than just b’seder in this country. Ok, you know what? I don’t know what it is. I don’t know if the crowd is bigger, it’s not a paying gig, I probably get a few more minutes, I know before hand that I’m going on because it’s a set lineup and not an open mic, and that’s what I know, not to mention that they should be asking me to move up because of the reception I’ve gotten. But I don’t care. I moved to another country, am doing stand-up comedy, and am making people laugh IN ANOTHER BLEEPING LANGUAGE. In a place where olim chadashim often spend their time feeling like idiots, freirs, inadequate, and occasionally wanting to pull their hair out of their head, this is an victory. (Nefesh B'Nefesh is going to put a hit on me if I keep scaring away Diaspora Jews. If I disappear, you know who did it.) I may look back in two weeks and say “what was I talking about?” This is no different from what I was doing before and almost certainly my goals will continue to change, making Thursday nights the beeg deal.

But for now, even for a short time, I’m appreciating this and tooting my own horn. Because wanting something, working hard for it, and getting it is what life’s all about. Or something like that. And the day I perform just five minutes in broken Hebrew and get even one laugh? I won’t even know how to describe that.

Whew…

Update: I just talked to my friend Tal who also performs on Wednesdays. Remember SAT analogies? Tuesday is to Wednesday...as Wednesday is to Thursday. It’s basically the next level, no big surprise. You do that for who knows how long and if you’re good enough, they move you to the next night, a more professional show. Tal confirmed that of course you get more time on Wednesday (8 minutes maybe?) and the quality of performers is higher although the crowds recently have not been as big as Tuesdays. And perhaps the best thing is that it’s more stage time. I can still go on Tuesdays to practice and work stuff out and then treat Wednesday like more of a performance. And everyone in stand-up knows that the #1, #2, and #3 most important things in stand-up is to find a way to get onstage.

More of “What the *$@# does that word say?”

Inspired by Pant Steak…

Who saw “Hisardut (Survivor)” last night? Great way to practice your Hebrew with the subtitles. Until I saw “גו גתר”.

Here was me sounding it out in the second before the audio caught up.

“Gav? Gav ga-TAHR?”

Oh GEEZ…

This is starting to require its own blog category…

How Can Someone Wet Her Pants But Still Conjugate in Passive Tense?

Good morning, my loyal readers-I hope to have my Purim update online in the next 24 hours. I’m having some logistical issues in the camera department which will be resolved soon. As always, it was a nice holiday experience. I hope you all had a chag sameach and to any of my Christian readers (do I have any Christian readers?), a happy Easter to you.

Today is our company costume contest and several employees brought their kids to work. Lemme tell you…there is nothing cuter than little Israeli kids (quite possibly because they represent the small segment of the population whose Hebrew is on my level). And of course, when you see a baby, a dog, or a kid in the office, you are bound by the laws of physics to drop what you’re doing and pay attention to them.

So when I saw a little 5 year-old in costume, I made my way over to say hello. No matter what the language, you assume your “talking to a little kid voice” with inflections and slow pace of speech.

“Boker toooooooov! (Good morning)”
“Bat kamah aaaaaaht? (How old are you?)”
“Sorry, we’re aaaaaaaall out of Absolut.” Just kidding.

I always wonder…what do little kids think about immigrants who speak another language? At what age do kids understand the presence of different languages and countries? Did this kid think I was an alien? I assume Israeli kids figure it out faster than Americans because of all the English in their lives, starting with on television.

After about a minute of conversing, I said to the girl in Hebrew, “I think that your Hebrew might even be better than mine!”

She replies, “I know.”

Are they just born honest here or what? Is there even a translation for “white lie” in this country? Throw me a bone, kid.

Is there another situation in which a five year-old is better than you in some area? I don’t care who you are, that sucks.

A classic comedy about a man who must be brutally honest with everyone around him.
In Israel, this movie is translated as “Tuesday”.

Update: I just heard the girl speaking Russian to her father. I feel dumb.

Where Do I Find an Ulpan for English?

Hello, my loyal readers. Sorry for the recent lack of posts. Life as an oleh chadash is busy as always and I’ve had a packed few weeks with stand-up shows and other things. A couple weeks back, I was asked to perform for at a conference for Techshoret, an organization of technical writers and communicators. Here’s a short clip (if you don’t find Microsoft Word jokes amusing, feel free to call us dorks and keep on reading.....yes, I was a technical writer back before I realized that this type of writing is far more rewarding).

What else can I tell you from my last couple of weeks? Just a couple of thoughts:

• I know this isn't news and, yes, I might be the last person to figure this out, but Machaneh Yehudah kicks the hoo-ha out of Shuk HaCarmel (ech omrim "hoo-ha"?) I was in Jerusalem last Shabbat and had a lovely walk thru the shuk (does the use of the word "lovely" automatically make me old or am I aging regardless of my vocabulary?) Ten minutes in the Tel Aviv shuk on a Friday makes me want to put my head through a window. (Ech omrim "put my head through a window"?)
• Now that winter seems to be officially over....wow, that was pretty brutal, Tel Aviv. I don't know how we did it. In the meantime...see you at the beach!!!
  

I think that's all for now. I've missed you guys!!! (Anybody still here?)

Back to our regularly scheduled program.

Do you like impressions? Here is my impression of me examining various cleaning products at the store earlier this week.

“Panat…pantastayak…what the hell is Pant Steak?”

The first non-Israeli to correctly identify this word wins a prize.

(Thanks, Stacey, for the graphic.)

If Channel 10 Runs This, I'm Suing

It's a small world, my loyal readers. No, I'm not channeling Walt Disney. I'm talking Tom Friedman, as in "The World is Flat". Only a handful of years ago, everybody's favorite Jewish state had two TV channels and American movies that often opened up months after their US release.

Now? Well...this.

Souljah Boys aside, Israel has everything now. McDonalds. Check. MTV? Check. Canned Spam? Ok...we don't have that, baruch hashem. (That's just nasty, Americans.)

You keep this out of our country, we'll keep arsim out of yours.

We even have the hit TV show "Survivor" (that's a link to the Israeli version). For years, my friends made the joke till it got old: "Hey, you know what? Every day in Israel is 'Survivor'! Ha!" Or "When are they gonna do 'Survivor: Gaza' ? " But it's really here so we don't have to joke anymore.

Reality TV? Just as big here. And the biggest shows from the West all have their own Middle Eastern versions. "American Idol"? "Kochav Nolad". "Dancing with the Stars"? "Rokdim im Kochavim".

You know what I want to see? "Fear Factor." Oh yeah. Israeli Fear Factor. This show would be so easy to write! All the challenges? They're already here!

Round one? Drive.

Not with spiders, people. In a car, with Israel drivers. I wouldn't do it. All the cars here with their red "שמור מרחק" (shmor mirchak) bumper stickers...does anyone know what that means? You wanna know? I'll tell you. "Shmor mirchak" actually means "I drive like a loony bin." In case you were wondering.

Round two on Israeli Fear Factor? Twelve o'clock...on a Sunday...stand in line at Bituach Leumi. BEFORE A STRIKE. (Sorry, non-Israelis, it loses something in translation. I'll leave it to my fellow olim...what does "bituach leumi" mean to you?)

If any contestants manage to survive those two feats, the championship will surely knock them out. Ready? Go to the shuk, lick the ground.

Americans, you think live roach-eating is gross? I will pay a shiny, new two-shekel piece to anyone who can correctly identify the mystery gunk on the ground of Shuk HaCarmel.

It's only a matter of time. I can't wait to see what other shows come here. "The Simple Life"? That's easy. Moshav.

What's on TV tonight?

This is Why I'm Going to Ulpan?

So I started a new job yesterday, my loyal readers. I'm a content writer for an online marketing firm and that's all I'm gonna say for now.

Some of you in the place called chul might be asking yourself, "Self? How does an oleh chadash struggling with Hebrew manage to get by working in another country's office environment?"

Well, I'll tell you. You speak English. Whoever said that the international language is love was listening to too much Chicago. (Why was every one of their songs about getting dumped? For the love of G-d, I like "Greatest Hits 1982-1989" as much as the next '80s child but how depressing are those songs???) The official language of my company is English which means that emails, meetings, internal communications are conducted officially in English.

Israel's official language is Hebrew. Except for on t-shirts.

If I didn't get the memo, I figured it out my first day. My boss sent me an email with some information. I hit reply and tried to write "תודה (thank you)." Only one problem: there's no Hebrew font installed on my computer.

Please tune in this Wednesday at 9 AM to see Eliezer Ben-Yehudah and Theodore Herzl engaged in a grave-rolling competition. Ech omrim "grave-rolling competition?"

"I forced my family against their will to say made-up words and in 100 years,
they speak what??? Mrs. Ben-Yehudah's gonna kill me!!!"

Remember This Name

After these egregious offenses, I have developed what I call "Post-Traumatic Name Syndrome" where I become terrified at the sight of a coffee barista-type with a microphone, just waiting to scream "BAHN-gee" to the delight of everyone nearby. When they lean over to say a name, I jump, kind of like these guys.

Guess what I saw this weekend for the first time?
No way could Israelis pronounce Diggler's name. "DEH-rek?"

Fortunately, to my surprise, they got it right last week at Aroma. When I saw the receipt, saw why: they had actually entered my name in English.
Hmm...that's interesting. That can't be easy, right? To switch languages and hunt and peck for the English letters? Thank you, Aroma.

In the meantime, I've figured out a way to get revenge on people who call me "BAHN-gee". I tell them my last name is "Massachusetts." The next Israeli to say that correctly will be the first.

Benji Massachusetts: Coming to an Arena Near You.

Who Wants to Spank a Tree?

I feel like the story of Tu B'shvat was started as some kind of a practical joke and then continued over the years (why does this sound familiar?...Tom Cruise (cough)). The birthday...of the trees? Are we supposed to sing to them?

When I got to work today, I was greeted by a nice spread of all kinds of fruits and nuts. That's pretty amazing...don't remember it happening in the States. I seriously couldn't identify a lot of them. There was a long orange thing that wasn't a carrot...papaya apparently. Who can recognize a fig? I couldn't. Hard to make out all of them but there they are, on my plate. Chag sameach, everyone.
What happens when the tree turns 21? Do you pour a bottle of beer on it?

An Israeli's Response to the Funniest Book in the History of the World

Here's one that's been sitting in my proverbial hopper for months, just waiting to be written (ech omrim "proverbial hopper"?) It's a long one...get ready.

On my last trip to the States, I came across this in the airport bookstore: "Excuse Me, But I Was Next: How to Handle the Top 100 Manners Dilemmas" by Peggy Post.

Over the next 45 minutes, I proceeded to be be drawn into one of the funniest books in the history of the world. Here's Amazon's description:

Have you ever been annoyed by cell phone yakkers, line–cutters, movie chatters, or noxious neighbors. . .

Yes, I have. And if you don't know where this is going, seriously, you're at the wrong website.

been confused about who pays at a restaurant...spotted someone double dipping...gotten a gift you hated? America's etiquette expert Peggy Post comes to the rescue in this concise, readable book devoted to the top 100 etiquette issues everyone wonders about....Peggy addresses them as only she can––in her direct, fresh, unpretentious style. You'll learn how to politely say"no" to difficult requests, how to introduce someone if you've forgotten their name, damage control for email bloopers, what to do if people don't reply to your RSVP, how to actually get your kids to write thank–you notes, and much more. Peggy Post captures the essence of etiquette for today's world, distilled into the perfect gift book.

Ok, let's get right to it, shall we? Israelis right now are already laughing.

Chapter 2: Top 10 Nosy Questions and Quick Retorts
Q: "How much money do you make?"
A: "Not enough to buy the house that’s going up down the road!" Israelis, you can now make fun of Americans for being fake and passive-aggressive. How about "none of your business, assface. Any more questions?" Or "I'd rather not answer that question." Call me crazy.

Q: How much did you pay for that suit?
A: "Why, does it look expensive?" So clever! How did she DO that???

Q: “Have you had work done...like a facelift?"
A: "Hey, do I look younger? It must be all that clean living!”

What kind of person would ask that last question? And has Peggy written her follow-up book "Stupid Questions and the Morons Who Ask Them"?

If she were an Israeli woman her age, she's be naturally beautiful.
Of course, she'd also have bright red hair and dress like a 17 year-old.

Chapter 6: Cutting Ties with Your Hairdresser
"Breaking up with a hairdresser is like ending any relationship…the key is to be honest and polite." I guess so...if you're ****ing your hairdresser.

Ch. 12:"Excuse me, but I was next"
Ok, here we go....

Q: I was in a long line at store and waiting quite a while. A new line opened and the woman who just joined the end rushed to be the first one. The cashier started ringing her up. What should I have done?
A: Immediately say, "Excuse me, but I believe I was ahead of you." If he doesn’t retreat, don’t push, go speak to the manager.

We call this person a "freier". Can you say "freier", boys and girls? Talk to a manager??? Can you even imagine trying that here? "Nu, mah ani a’aseh??? Kacha zeh b’Yisrael!!!"

Peggy continues: "If you don't want to confront them, the antidote to rudeness is to kill 'em with kindness. " Ok, let me think about that for a second....HAAAAAAAAAA!!!!! Whew, that was great! (laughing, wiping away tears) Kill 'em with kindness? How about with a machine gun? "At very least, it may shame them into acting more civilized." Freier.

You could also sing this fun song...

Why do people look upset here? This isn’t normal in America?
Do you know what we call it here? Tuesday.

Ch 22: Limits of Generosity
Q: When a co-worker miscarries, never say "it was for the best" or "it was God's will."

Gee, do you think so? Hey everybody! Be sure to buy next book from Peggy Post: "Excuse Me, But I Think You Just Ran Over My Dog", giving such useful tips as "Things Not to Say When Your Loved One Gains 700 Pounds"

Ch 28: Internet Dating Etiquette
"Post only an up-to-date photo." Listening, Jdaters? "Arrange a first meeting in a public place and limit the duration." If you don't know that, there's a reason you're single. Hmm...I've never met this guy....he won't divulge his job...he doesn't have pictures posted...I know! WEEKEND GETAWAY IN THE CAYMANS!

Ch 43: Dressing Downer
Q: When together with friends, my 15 year-old insists on wearing grungy jeans and a t-shirt. I tried to get him to dress nicer but he says that’s his style and to leave him alone.
Benji's A: Have you considered attending a wedding in Petach Tikva?

Ch 50: How to Eat a Cherry Tomato
I am not even kidding. LADY, IRAN IS DEVELOPING A NUCLEAR BOMB TO BLOW US ALL UP!!! FORGET THE CHERRY TOMATOES!!!

Ch 59: Flying the Unfriendly Skies
Q: I’m fed up with parents who let their children act up on airplanes. During the last few flights, I've been kicked, poked, and tormented with nonstop whining and tantrums. How do I make it stop?
Benji's A: Switch to Israir


And more....

Q: My wife’s company is holding a holiday party. I’m world’s worst communicator…advice?
A: "Be well versed on current events."

You know, like this lady.

"Steer clear of controversial topics."
So it wouldn't be wise to say "So I'm thinking about moving to Hebron...thoughts?"

Q: At a party, I started talking politics and the discussion got heated. The host seemed uncomfortable. I enjoy a good debate and think our argument was civil but my wife insists it was rude. Who’s right?
A: Discussion of an interesting topic can be a great party activity, provided no one curses or resorts to full-scale argument. Most subjects (the market, sports, politics) are fair game as long as the expresser rationally listens with an open mind and refrains from insisting too vehemently on his views. Unless the conversation amounted to all out verbal combat, it is not rude.
Benji's A: Were people screaming at each other and yelling "mah karah lecha???" If so, this is called talking. You are too sensitive.

PTA Pressures
Q: A parent from the PTA keeps calling me to help me with school projects but I’m overwhelmed with a job and kids. What should I do?

FOR THE LOVE OF G-D, SAY NO! Or say you have miluim (army reserves) for the next 6 months. That's the Israeli version of "ooooh, I wish I could but I have to wash my hair."

Telephone troubles
Q: As the pace of modern life speeds up, rudeness seems to escalate. Here are some of the most offensive and rude behaviors.
1) Cell yell: Broadcasting cell conversation in public as if the person were hard of hearing.

Dude, people are smoking IN THE MALL here. Do you think they give a rat's ass about whispering?
Example: I was in the bathroom at a restaurant and the woman next to me was on her cell phone! I was forced to listen while others waited. Is there anything I could have done?

Yes, politely ask her to use movie theater.

That'll teach him to talk on his cell phone.

2) Driving recklessly: Zipping from lane to lane and generally driving like maniac

Did that say manyak?

Q: I was 5 minutes late for interview. I didn’t get job even though I was qualified. Was lateness the reason.
Benji's A: 5 minutes??? YOU’RE HIRED!

Q: I am female and my male client likes to greet me with a kiss. It doesn’t bother me but my boss thinks it’s odd. Should I ask him to stop? I don’t want to offend him and possibly jeopardize our business relationship.
Benji's A: Has he considered running for Knesset?

Peggy Post is today’s recognized leading authority on etiquette. She was also rejected by Nefesh B'Nefesh and will never live in Israel.

THIS IS WAR, YOU BASTARDS

Only one week ago, I wrote about the tendency for people to mispronounce my name here. Apparently "the gods" did not look favorably on this post and have decided to wage all-out war on me.

I got my first tlush maskoret (salary statement) last week from work. Here's part of it.


Don't see anything fishy? Let's take a closer look at the employee's name, shall we?Are you freaking kidding me? Forget the fact they spelled my last name wrong. Americans, I'll help you out. In case you can't tell the difference between בנג'י and בנגיי, one is a nickname for Benjamin and the other targets deep, penetrating heat right at the source of your pain so you can get the relief you need.

This analgesic heat rub is sold by Johnson & Johnson and currently
holds down a job in Herzliya Pituach.

This is the biggest professional slap since this incident described to my friends 8 years ago.

Date: Fri, 17 Dec 1999 10:33:39
From: "Benjamin Lovitt"
Subject: Reason number 832 why I hate my job: the X-Mas bonus
To:

Dear Bosses,
Very funny, you bastards. Like I really need a $35 gift certificate to the Honey Baked Ham store for X-Mas. That's going to do my Jewish ass a lot of good.

When we do the gift swap at the company party and you get a box of matza from me, you'll know why.

Benji

I guess it could be worse. I could be this guy.

SAY IT! SAY IT!

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

-Some old dude

B-Shakes knew what he was talking about. The rose may smell as sweet but they're not calling it the same thing all around the world. Whether you call me Joe Montana or Flowers McGee, it doesn't change the fact that I can't throw a football. That said, would it kill people in this country to call me by my actual name?

"To be...or not to be?
That is the.....ehhhhhhhhh.........NU!"

For the sake of this example, let's say we're all Americans. Ok, now everybody eat a Big Mac and act fake. Ha ha. (C'mon, I make fun of the Israelis all the time, it's all in good fun. OR IS IT??? High-five, Israelis!) You've just met a nice Israeli who's moved to the States; in fact, you're a teacher and he's one of your students. You see his name written on the roll sheet but there's a vowel missing. The name reads "Mrdechai."

When calling his name, do you say...?
A) Mardechai
B) Murdechai
C) Mordechai
D) This is America! You'll go by Morty and like it!

(My senior year, we had an Israeli kid named Yuval enroll in the school. He joined my gym class where the other boys proceeded to call him "Yuvie." How endearing. As far as these people were concerned, he was what sunglasses were supposed to protect them from.)

If you said C, you guessed correctly. If you said D, you are very multi-cultured.

So why is it so hard for people here to pronounce "Benji"? BEN-gee!!!

SAY IT! SAY IT, DAMMIT!!!

New Years Eve, I'm at Karnaf, this wrap place with my friends Ziv and Amalia. We place our orders and wait for them to call our names over the mic. "Zeev!" Check. "Amalia!" Check. "Bahn-gee!" My friends laughed hysterically and the truth is, I did too. How could I not? Aside from the fact that over the microphone, most of the Middle East probably heard it, it's ridiculous that when Israelis say my name, they apparently think I'm named for this.

Really? בנג'י is so foreign? It's not obvious that it's connected to "Benjamin" or בנימין? I never had a name that I had to explain in the States, like my co-worker "Brannon" who introduced herself as "Dannon" with a "Br-". I guess I'd better get used to it.

Either that or start going by "Dudu." Of course that raises a whole nother series of issues.

What, You Were Expecting Paul Shaffer?

Another reminder to RSS readers...be sure to make this change.

I got the call yesterday. They're renovating the building and it's time to move on. You know what means, my loyal readers...some lucky Tel Avivi could get to live with me! Who knows of a vacancy?

With apologies to David Letterman, from our home office in Bat Yam, here are tonight's top 10 reasons to live with Benji Lovitt:

10) I know how to clean the floor like a local

9) I know how to NOT clean a sink (someone still brings this up every month)

8) I can whip up a delicious breakfast that won't lead to cardiac arrest

7) I've learned that everything's gonna be ok

"They're heeeeeeere!" YIYEH B'SEDER!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(This one never gets old to me. If I made a shirt with a picture of Olmert or a map of the Middle East with "Yiyeh B'seder" written below, would anybody buy it?)

6) I've mellowed out over the years

5) I can teach Israelis a few things about the New York stock exchange

4) While I may not be able to build furniture, my gever gever friends can

3) I'm over my blepheritis

2) I'll make you laugh

And the number one reason that you're all going to forward me any apartment opening you hear about or take me in...

1) If I don't find an apartment in 44 days, I'm making yerida to here


Somewhere in Jerusalem, an alarm bell just went off. LET'S GO, Nefesh B'Nefesh! HOOK A BROTHA UP!!!

44 days...the clock is ticking...JEWS OF THE WORLD, UNITE!!!!

Eat Your Heart Out, Ray's Pizza

In the spirit of Ray's, Famous Ray's, Original Ray's, and the like...

From Sunday's New York Times Magazine...the Ethicist!

While negotiating the sale of his share of a small shawarma restaurant to a friend of his, my husband learned that a famous shawarma chain is opening a branch near the restaurant. He fears that if he tells the friend, he will back out of the deal. It feels wrong to withhold this information. Must he tell? — Wendy Schor-Haim, Tel Aviv

Famous shawarma chain??? Huh? Yeah, because any Israeli can recite on command the top 10 famous shawarma places. That's like saying "Tel Aviv's famous stray cat." These places aren't exactly known for their differentiation.

Without further ado...Israel's top 10 famous shawarma places!!!

10) The one on the corner with this poster

Yeah, that narrows it down.

5) The one with the Baba Sali on the wall

4) The one where the guy behind the counter is extremely proficient not only at cramming as many tosefot (additions) into the pita as possible, but doing so only seconds after finishing his cigarette. Ech omrim "wash your hands, Shmulik"?

Ok, that's enough...

So what did the Ethicist say?

Each party in the sale of a company is expected to exercise due diligence on his own behalf, availing himself of public information like that surrounding a famous chain’s expansion plan. Seller and buyer must respect the law and fair business practices, but because each party wants to maximize its benefit at the other’s expense, both must also heed the rule of caveat emptor.

Fair business practices? Dude, have you been here before? I have to threaten civil litigation to convince the taxi driver to use the meter! "No, I will not pay 50 shekels to get from Ben-Yehudah to the shuk! I can see it from here!"

How Israeli cab drivers apparently see Americans

So how did the story end? Happily, as the shawarma rumor turned out to be just that...a rumor. A national pizza chain came in its place. Mmm...pizza.

For another Israel-related Ethicist question...

(Thanks, Larry and Nadine.)

"SERENITY NOOOOOOW!!!!"*

A Google search of "Israeli bureaucracy" brings up phrases such as "struggle", "coping", and "what have I done to deserve this?" Ok, I made the last one up. But talk to any native Israeli or immigrant and you're bound to hear stories of not just long lines, but decisions void of logic made at the whim of the particular clerk you get at any given time. With this in mind and sense of humor by my side, I decided to brave the Tel Aviv municipality building recently in pursuit of one of my aliyah benefits.

Located in Rabin Square, the iriya building is home to Tel Aviv's city council. For those of you who don't speak Hebrew, "iriya" is loosely translated as "in exactly what year did this building look nice???"

• I walk into the office which houses services related to arnona (municipality tax), water, among other things. The closest thing I can compare it to in America is the DMV. Who's excited to go now? That's sort of like someone describing your blind date as "the closest thing to Leona Helmsley."
• A quick look around reveals a surprisingly high degree of organization. Colored signs detailing each department hang from the ceiling, TV screens display the next number, and a woman sits by the door handing you your lucky number. Jesus, what's the interview like for that job?

Interviewer: "Ehhhh...how are you at extending your arm while holding a small piece of paper."
Candidate: "Zzzzzz......"
Interviewer: "You're hired!"

• In the middle of the floor is a sign for sheirut atzmi, self-service. You can even make or apply for IDs of some kind. I'm using Shaq's picture and naming myself McLovin.

My new teudat zahut. The camera adds 165 pounds.

• My number is 159א. The screen shows 109. Fasten your seat belts.
• "nah nah NAH NAH! nah NAH! nah NAH! nah nah NAH NAH! nah nah NAH NAH! nah NAH! MY ARNONA!" (They can't all be winners, folks. I have an hour to kill.) On that note, I'd like to revise my rankings of worst 3 Israeli names. Osnat, Dudu, and Moran...meet Arnona, Shilshula, and Chumusia. (If they're not names, they should be.)
  
• I'm used to government offices issuing licenses and passports. This one deals with Easy Park and water...where do I go for my falafel discount?
• The guy sitting next to me is talking on his bluetooth. Seriously, where do we go from here? Chopping off your friend's ear and walking around talking into it?
• Of course the government workers in Israel are hot...eat your heart out, DMV. Is anyone surprised? I just sent that mesage in an SMS to my buddy Tal accompanied by the word "shwing". If this were 1992, that would have been funny.
• Time to take a walk. I approach the number-giving woman and ask "When is it not busy here?" She replies, "8-9...b'seder. Acharei (after)? Balagan! (chaos)" I love that word. I always imagine barn doors opening and farm animals running amok with clowns and noisemakers.
• (Yawn) This is boring. Where's the yelling, dammit? I'm not leaving till I witness at least one confrontation. I pick up the customer evaluation "how are we doing?" form. The top says "your opinion is important to us." Yes, and I have a bridge in Tehran to sell you. What do you think they do with these forms? Start the Lag B'Omer fires? Fold them up and put them in the Kotel? After a hard 8 hour day, do the workers go out for a Goldstar and exclaim "Dudu, look! Dees guy said deh wait was too lohng. BAAAAA HA HA HA HA!!!!!", slapping each other on the backs and stomping their feet?