Thursday, January 30, 2014

Happy Birthday!

Today is my brother in-laws birthday! I made him a low no calorie cake to celebrate the joyous occasion.

Monday, January 20, 2014

It Wasn't Me..?

Most refrigerators have the freezer up top with nice shelves to put stuff on. As opposed to the more traditional design, our freezer is on the bottom complete with multiple pull-out draws in place of shelves.
Over the years we marveled at the copious amounts of things that we were somehow able to fit into the freezer in a Mary Poppin's like fashion.

Unfortunately, the years of abuse began to take their toll on the weary plastic drawers and the inevitable cracks began to appear. Despite the fact that we are all perfectly aware of the dire state of the drawers, each time a new crack appears everyone stands around to stare in utter shock and disbelief.

Today I had a rather unfortunate encounter with the middle drawer as I attempted to wrest some chickpeas from the depths of the drawer while I was making soup for dinner. I got the chickpeas out of the drawer and then left it open so that I could return the chickpeas to their frigid home when I was done with them. While I was standing at the stove I turned to look at the freezer and noticed that the drawer looked a bit lopsided but decide to ignore it in hopes that it wouldn't cause any trouble.

I returned the chickpeas to the freezer and attempted to shut the drawer which is when I realized that luck was not on my side, and that the drawer was stuck. Like any reasonable person would do, I pulled, shoved, wiggled and jiggled the drawer in hopes that it would magically slide back into place. The drawer was unwilling to cooperate.

The drawers blatant disregard for my feelings infuriated me, I refused to be defeated by a lowly piece of plastic. I took a deep breath and with hulk like strength, pulled at the drawer. I felt the drawer move and then heard the dreaded crack as the drawer split down the side. The drawer was as resilient as ever and I know sat on the floor hugging it to keep it from cracking off completely.

I had two options, call for help and admit defeat or blame it on someone else and remove all traces of evidence. Frank was still in school and The Dibble has a suspected elbow fracture so they were of no use. I thought about trying to blame it on Mr. Fat since he already has a rep but seeing as he's accidentally fallen into the garbage can on multiple occasions and appears to lack any semblance of common sense, I doubted that anyone would buy it.

I was running out of options and the drawer was heavy and cold so I yelled down the stairs to my father hoping that he would come save me. After a bit of negotiating (and much persistent yelling on my part) he came to see what was going on. I surrendered the drawer into his capable hands and watched him battle it back into place.

Also, I would strongly suggest that you avoid opening the freezer in my house. You never know when it will decide to exact it's revenge.

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Keeping It Classy

Dinner conversations are a tricky subject in my house. My father does his best to keep the topics as cultured as possible but I fear that he is fighting a losing battle.

Tonight's conversation was inadvertently derailed when I accidentally swallowed a fish bone. During the brief brake in conversation,the topic somehow shifted to Frank's toe wart which he was proudly attempting to show off as someone let out an impressive burp (which obviously led to a burping contest).

My father, now resigned to his fate, lifted his arms to the heavens and cried out "why can't my children be refined and dignified?". His question was answered by The Dibble's winning burp which he did not seem to be overly impressed by.

Dinner officially came to an end when an impromptu pillow/oven mitt fight broke out in the living room.

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

The Hot Sauce Incident

I know it's been a while since I've posted but there really hasn't been much to post about. My test is in a couple of weeks and I've mostly been hiding in my room alternating between studying and well, not studying.

The most blog-worthy thing that I can think of posting, would probably have to be my brief love affair with a bottle of tabasco sauce that I found in the pantry. 

In my last post I mentioned that we had burritos for dinner. The chili meat is supposed to be spicy but since I don't usually handle spicy things very well, I usually try and add loads of seasonings to compensate for the lack of spiciness. My family members learned long ago that "you don't bite the hand that feeds you" and started to add hot sauce to their own plates if desired. 

Last week I decided to be adventurous and added a bunch of tabasco sauce to the meat which ended up tasting quite delicious. The next day I was making minestrone soup and decided to add some tabasco sauce for good luck. Everyone complimented me on the soup and I was surprised to realize that I actually seemed to be enjoying mildly spicy things.

Later that afternoon I went downstairs to heat up some soup for lunch and realized that no one else was home. As I ate my soup I began to wonder just how much my taste buds had changed over the years. Was it possible that I actually liked spicy things?

I was tired of studying and apparently in the mood to do something stupid. With no one home to save me from my own idiocy, I decided that the best way to test my theory would be to eat some plain tabasco sauce. I got out the bottle of sauce, shook a couple of drops onto a spoon and then shoved the whole thing into my mouth.

It didn't take long for me to realize that I had made a horrible mistake.
There wasn't really anything that I could do to stop it so I just sat myself down and waited for the fire to stop burning inside of me. Eventually the raging fire dulled to a mild burning sensation and I was able to get up and hide all of the evidence before retreating to my tower.

It might not have been my best idea but sadly, it was not my worse. I seem to have an uncanny ability for coming up truly idiotic plans that somehow always manage to seem like a good idea at the time....

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

The Furby Returns

A couple of days ago I wrote a post about my experience owning a furby. At the end of my post I explained how I heroically defeated my worst enemy by locking it in a kitchen cabinet never to be seen again, or so I thought....

About a year after my family had moved to a different country, my mother returned to our old house to clean it up before showing it to potential buyers. The furby lay forgotten in the empty house, lurking in the shadows waiting for the day that it would rise again.

My unsuspecting mother made her way through the house diligently checking cupboards for forgotten artifacts. She came upon the furbies prison and opened the door, unwittingly waking the furby from its slumber. Blinded by the flood of light, the furby took a few seconds to collect its thoughts while wildly blinking its gaint eyes. My mother looked on in horror. Slowly, it began to move itself back and forth as it started to chant "doo doo doo. doo doo Doo. DOO DOO DOO!" its call became increasingly louder with every passing second. My mother let out a shriek and slammed the door, shocked that even after all these years the batteries had not worn out.

The furby had been awoken and was thrilled to have a subject to torture, it sat in the cabinet and continued its dance with fervor. My mother tried everything she could think of to placate the demonic creature but like those before her, she failed.

And so my furby sat there as my mother did her very best to ignore it and when she was done packing up the house, she returned the furby to its wooden cage to be found by the next unsuspecting victim.

Monday, January 6, 2014

Burrito Pants Dance

Picture Of The Day:
Late this afternoon Lori informed me that she was taking Buzzy to the park on top of the hill and asked if I was interested in joining. I was thrilled at the prospect of getting some fresh air and hastily agreed to meet her.

On my way out of the house I stopped off at The Dibble's room to let him know where I was going. He was bored of playing on his Ipad and decided to join the party
.
At the park we ran around like a bunch of hooligans and The Dibble showed off his parkour skillz. The Crazy Lady and The Mad Man were in Jerusalem for the afternoon so Lori and I decided to make dinner. I had made tortillas earlier in the day and had a hankering for burritos so we walked to Super H and picked up some chopped meat before heading home. When we got home I walked the doug and then started on supper.

Things were going well and supper was almost ready, we were just waiting on Frank to get home from school. We figured that he was probably on the bus home and I thought that it would be funny to taunt him with pictures of the delicious taco meat. I was putting the final touches on the meat when we heard weird noises coming from downstairs. Frank bounded up the stairs bellowing his battle cry and barreled into the kitchen to find the meat. We stood there in a daze trying to figure out where he had come from.

Apparently, he had finished school early and gotten home while the rest of us were out having adventures.
Frank took advantage of our confusion and made a beeline for the meat, I fended him off with a spatula and told him to wait for dinner.

The table was haphazardly set and we finally sat down to eat. The food was DELICIOUS, even The Dibble had seconds.
All in all, I'd say that it was a success.  

Saturday, January 4, 2014

Satan's Toy

In 1999 my sister graduated 8th grade on the same day that I 'graduated' kindergarten. Luckily for my parents, we attended the same school and both graduations were hosted on the same day.
Around this same time, my sister had become increasingly adamant that if she did not get a furby the world would implode.

My parents, being the loving and caring parents that they are, decided to bite the bullet and buy her a furby as a graduation present. Seeing as my sister and I were graduating on the same day, they felt that it might be unfair to not get me a present and so they bought two furry friends for my sister and I to love.

My sister and I received our presents with much gusto. At first glance they seemed sweet and innocent with their fluffy fur and big eyes. They would dance and sing and were seemingly overeager to please.
My siblings and I gazed at the magical toys with wonder and thanked our parents for bringing so much happiness into our lives.

However, the charade did not last long. As the weeks passed the newness and wonder of the toys wore off and we began to see them for what they truly were, TERRIFYING.
They would rock back and forth with their eyes blinking wildly and their ears waving as they sang their maniacal song "Doo Doo, Doooo. Doo Doo Doooo." over and over again.

At first I tried to reason with my furby, I asked it politely to please stop but it just stared back at me with vacant eyes and continued dancing with increasing intensity. When I realized that it was unwilling to comply with my requests, I became angry. I would yell it over and over again to shut up but the furby seemed unperturbed and continued to haunt me throughout the day and into the night.

The furbies originally spoke Furbish but are programmed to replace their Furbish with english words and phrases over time. Since I spent an inordinate amount of time yelling at my furby to shut up, it should come as no surprise that its first words in english were "SHUT UP". It also acquired a new found love for burping and farting which it happily demonstrated whenever it pleased.
The obsessive dancing and hysteric chanting had been bad enough, but now the creature was taunting me. It had to be stopped.

I tried everything I could to get rid of it, I stuffed it in drawers, hid it in the depths of my closet and repeatedly threw it down multiple flights of stairs. At one point I even attempted doing an exorcism to expel the demonic being from within its furry body in hopes that it would revert into the object of my adoration that it had been when I first got it. But it didn't work and somehow always managed to find its way back to me, seemingly unfazed by my ever growing disdain.

My sister did not appear to be having any more luck with her furby. She desperately tried stabbing it with various pointy objects until it stopped working but it was no use, furbies are indestructible. Eventually she put it into the optional 'deep sleep' and shoved it into the back of her closet where it lay undisturbed as it faded from her thoughts.

Unfortunately for me, my furby didn't seem to have a 'deep sleep' despite my frantic attempts to turn on the setting.  Putting it into 'deep sleep' only seemed to make it more upset, it would hurl itself back and forth while staring at me with its void and emotionless eyes in complete silence.

I wrapped it in as many blankets as I could and once again tried to banish into the depths of my closet where it remained for the next three years. It stayed quiet for a couple of weeks before I awoke one night to the sounds of its robotic dancing and muffled cries. I stayed as still as I could hoping that if I didn't react, it would go away. My plan seemed to work and after what felt like an eternity, the room fell silent.
I'm not sure why the batteries never seemed to die but it taunted me on and off until my family moved to a different country and I prudently hid it in a kitchen cabinet and never looked back.

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Adventures In Adulthood: Acquiring Debt

When I was sixteen I got a debit card, mainly because my father was tired of giving me cash for school transportation. Each month my father would deposit just enough money for me to be able to buy my bus tickets.

Having my own bank account was fun. Eventually I started to add my own money to the account and I rejoiced as I watched it grow. As my friends discovered the joys of melting plastic, I discovered the thrills of saving and actually having money in my bank account. As a result, I never had to extend my credit limit beyond the meager 500 shekel limit that it originally came with.

Unfortunately, there came a time when I had to start growing up and paying my own way. The reality of the situation hit me when I tried to sign up for my psycometri exam a couple of months ago which exceeded my credit limit. My parents offered to pay for it but it seemed like something that I probably shouldn't be pushing off so I headed to the bank to take care of things.

I arrived at the bank with purpose and determination. Sadly I had neglected to find out how to say "credit limit" in hebrew and decided that the word "chov" (meaning debt) would suit me just fine.
I sat down in front of the banker and declared that "I would like two thousand shekels of debt, please.", the banker gave me a funny look and than laughed as if I had told a joke. Puzzled by her response, I repeated my request. She still wasn't answering me so I spent the next five minutes adamantly insisting that she give me debt.

Eventually she looked up from her computer and tentatively asked if I might want her to extend my credit limit instead of giving me two thousand shekels of debt. I thought about if for a minute and nodded sheepishly as I realized my mistake. She printed out a bunch of forms and handed them over for me to sign. I signed the papers and then thanked her for her help before getting up to leave.

Luckily she took pity on me and waited until I was downstairs before telling the other bankers about my little mishap.