Sunday, December 21, 2008

Live blogging: Attack of the Uniboober

Saturday
9:44 AM

Sliced turkey breast
Bras
Electric kettle
Coffee

These are the primary things I am looking for while I unpack. The sliced turkey breast was what I was munching on yesterday while Eliezer Movers was loading the truck. When they finished and it was time to head out to Jerusalem, I put it somewhere and now I cannot find it. I presume that, at some point or another, it will get vile enough to announce its presence. What worries me is that it is also possible that I left it at my old place in Tel Aviv, and that it is announcing its presence there and that my next-door neighbor will end up thinking I killed something and left it to rot in my apartment and she will call the police to come investigate and they will find the turkey and everyone will think I am idiot. Theoretically, she could investigate herself and then only she would think I am an idiot, but we are talking about someone who has called me up at midnight to come kill a cockroach, so I think it fair to presume that the chances of her taking on this challenge are slim to none.

As for my bras, I know where they are: in a box. The problem is that the boxes are unmarked. Marking the boxes…well…it just seemed so…unnecessary at the time. So silly! Why mark the boxes if, in the end, you will have to open them all up anyway? What a waste of time!

This is a good moment to point out that I have moved twenty times (literally) since I graduated high school. As in: I should know better.

My first intimations that this was a terrible strategy came last night as I was trying to dress for Shabbat dinner. I manage to locate a reasonably civilized outfit, but no bra. In the end, I had no choice but to continue to pair the deep V-neck, wraparound sweater and delicate shell top with my huge, industrial-strength sports bra. The results were comical. I showed up at the my friend's house with a Uniboob (I DO mean industrial strength here) and with random bits of the sports bra, including the industrial strength straps, peeping above and to the sides of the shell top. It was not a particularly good look.

But the worst of the fallout is the coffee. I have not had any, nor will I until I find the electric kettle and instant or real coffee. Right this very minute, I am conducting silent discussions with He Who Must Be Obeyed in which I am making it clear that if the aforementioned items do not come to light quickly, I will have no choice but to go to Apikoras Café on Emek Refaim (the one place open on Shabbat around here) for coffee.

Next time, not only will I mark boxes, but I will have one box prominently marked, in giant neon letters, "caffeine".

Never, ever moving again is also an attractive option.

10:00
I am really astounded by the sheer quantity of toiletries I have. I am up to box number three now…. And to think that, when I was 11, I heard Andy Rooney talk about how he washed his hair with regular soap and decided—wow, that sounds like a good idea—and did the same. As it happened, the idea was not so good and I was promptly ordered back into the shower to try it again, this time with shampoo..

This is a shame, actually. Just think, had it been a success, instead of packing and unpacking three boxes, I could have tossed a bar of Ivory in a baggie and called it a day.

10:30
I have found my electric kettle and my ground coffee, but have not yet found the instant coffee or my French press.

G-d is such a tease.

I have also found some chocolate chip cookies. These are the only things standing between me and Apirkoras Café.

10:45
I have finally come to the conclusion that, much as I would like to, I am not going to make any headway until I clean the kitchen so that I can start to unpack my dishes. I start scrubbing away. First, I find a box of rubber bands wedged behind one of the drawers. Then I find a bunch of those long plastic ties—the types we used to attach our name tags to our bikes on the Alyn Ride. Then I find something that looks rather like a pubic hair in the cabinet under the sink.

I do not even want to know. Extra bleach all around.

11:00
Am sitting here, trying to figure out what on earth that strange noise is coming from the outside. I finally identify it. Birds. Nicer than the ambulances, I must admit.

In addition to the birds, it appears that I have traded the traffic noises for those of a large family with small, screaming children. Well that is fine—the kids make enough noise that no one should notice when I blast Galgalatz.

11:15
Under the SINK????? Why? And HOW??? Like, with a dwarf???

11:30
By now, I have given up all pretense of constructive activity. Instead, box cutter in hand, I am running around the apartment and hacking away at random boxes trying to find the &^#$!!! instant coffee.

11:45
Fuck it. I head out to the friendly neighborhood Apikoras Mini-market to buy instant coffee.

12:10
Am now back home, coffee in hand. I have 20 minutes to be showered, dressed and at BG's for lunch. And in all of my box hacking, I have yet to unearth a real bra. I have no choice but to sports-bra it again. Luckily, I have found a big, bulky sweater, so that this time no one will be able to see the straps. Unfortunately, this is the type of sweater that looks fantastic if you are thin, and paired with a pair of slim jeans. It is much less attractive on a non-skinny person, paired with non-slim black pants and the Uniboob.

3:30
Am once again back at home. In addition to myself, BG hosted a couple in from the US and four girls who are in Israel on the Nativ program. I can only imagine what the girls thought of me. They are probably going to go back to their hostel and tell their friends that THIS is what happens to you if you pass 35 without getting married. You turn frumpy and weird, wear shapeless sweaters and grow a uniboob. Namely, the same thing I think about frumpy single women over 40. I suspect that the Nativ girls are equally as traumatized as I get.

3:40
But that is good. Because now they will work even harder to get married. And then they will have Jewish babies. Someone should, seeing how I am not exactly doing my bit.

3:45
Maybe one of them can have an extra baby, for me? I could buy the baby. But no…. That is illegal. I think the technical term is "human trafficking".

4:15
Or "adoption from certain third-world countries".

5:00
You know, I have a huge collection of work-out clothes. This is very amusing, when one considers how overweight I am. The reason is that I keep on buying more and more, on the basis that they will help me lose weight. The problem is that I seem to forget the second half of that equation, namely that one must then put them on. And, like, work out in them.

9:15
I have found my bras! Yay! Death to the Uniboober!

Right, so I may have inhaled a bit too much dust.

9:45
Still have not found my French press. Or the turkey. I shall expect a midnight call from Gilor, asking me what on earth I left to die in my apartment.

Sunday
8:30
I found the turkey. It was in my purse.

I am sure it seemed like a great place for it at the time.

20 comments:

Maus said...

...................................
.....................................
...................... bra..........
....................................
ridicculous.........................
..........................sixties...
...................................
............survival...............
......................French Press..
superstition......................
...................................
.....................free roaming turkey.

Katz said...

Maus - the term is free-range turkey

tnspr569 said...

How is it that you manage to make unpacking sound fun? Or at least funny? I'm sure it was as torturous for you as it was for me - although I kind of got a bad deal on my new apartment. After fighting for a coveted first floor apartment (no lugging groceries or luggage up any stairs - priceless!), I discovered that my apartment had been used as a storage unit over the summer. The ENITRE APARTMENT was filled with everyone else's stuff! Needless to say, it took at least a week before the apartment was in suitable condition, what with my having SCHOOL and all to deal with then.

Turkey in a purse...interesting concept.

Enjoy your new place...and maybe get some cleaning help to relieve you of that arduous task known as the initial cleaning.

Asher said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
shunra said...

is the uniboob (I googled it to be sure) a karmic get-back for slicing turkey breast?
Isn't a french press an event in powerlifting?

Ari said...

You ought to move more often. Your last few posts have been really, really funny.

Maus said...

Puddy, Puddy, Puddy Cat, free-range means farmheld, mine is somewhere out there on a branch.

You by the way know what lure or bait could be used to attract a Capibara.

RivkA with a capital A said...

LOL!!!

Glad to have you back in town.

Drop by whenever you want!

Jack said...

Turkey in the purse. Now that is a bit different.

Anonymous said...

I am glad that you have moved far enough away so you won't be able to have any of those "meet your enemy" get togethers anymore.

It only played into the hands of those who want to make Israel weak.

Gila said...

Oh, not at ALL! In fact, the group is in Jerusalem! So I can actually meet with them more, not less.

Aren't you pleased?

Anonymous said...

Better be careful or you might soon have Shin Bet knocking on your door.

Oh, wait, they don't knock do they?

Batya said...

Gila, you reminded me of something.

Forget the politics, we can't even organize the place well enough to paint.
We're not leaving Shiloh!

Maus said...

BLOWJOB!

All these years I have been trying to persuade the local brassband to go by, buy cakes and other junk to support them so what's wrong to think about me some time once and .......
These people do have a hellish pleasure to play religious and other Christmas tunes at these Godforsaken times.
What do I get from being allmost blown out of my bed at 05.00.

Anonymous said...

Better be careful Gila or someday soon the Shin Bet will come a knocking at your door.

Oh, I forgot they don't knock do they.

Maus said...

"Oh, I forgot they don't knock do they"

The above line and all the other information must come from someone who has had the pleasure of a visit by the Shin Bet.

Batya, in time all of you are going to leave Shiloh.
The majority will leave for money and the ones left behind have no other choice than to follow.

Gila said...

The shin bet will be pretty bored--at least now, I spend all of my time working. Of course, I do make nice cookies.

Maus said...

If in time I treat you to a sorbet, how many cookies and what kind of do I get in return.

Maus said...

According to .......................
cookies............................
...............feeding pearls to the swines................but...........
................scurvy............
lemon...................de Sade.....
...............14 grapefruits.......
.........Perfume, Süsskind........
....................................
..............ik wil Bolletje......
aphrodisiac.

Lady-Light said...

Hahahaha. A chicken in every pot, and a turkey breast in every purse.
Do you now live in the Baka area? If you do, you might bump into my son & daughter-in-law one of these days...