The Simple Treasures in Life

Simple Pleasures

It is the simple things in life that give me the greatest joy; waking up in the morning to see that it is going to be yet another beautiful day, managing to drive out of my street without being stuck behind the garbage truck, arriving in to work before everyone else, having an hour of blissful silence to be able to catch up on the News and read my favourite blogs, getting home in time to go to the gym and have a social life, and getting a Caesar salad at the 25 NIS (now 30 NIS) restaurant with my friends… oh and a big glass of red wine.

I have noticed that a lot of female bloggers are writing about friends/ lack of friends/ wishing they had more friends at the moment. I blame the summer. It is the time of year when everyone seems to be with someone. Everyone seems to be in love, walking hand in hand down the beach with the love of their lives, and when you are a single woman in your late twenties and thirties, the loves of your life become your simple pleasures and your friends.

I treasure my simple pleasures and even more so my beautiful and wonderful friends who at times I may take for granted (as do we all) but at the moment I am in a lovey dovey place so swallow it – I love you people!! But it has not been easy. I would like to remind you that 2 years ago I arrived in a new country, and although I was lucky enough to have 3 of my best friends either here already or following me on the plane, and I also had my family here waiting for me, it has still taken almost to this day for me to gather a quality group of people around me who I trust and adore… and at the same time can rely on at least one of them to get me drunk any given night of the week. It does take time, partly because you are so busy trying to define who you are in this new country you are calling home, it is not the easiest thing to do to develop a whole new social scene.

Plus the good friends we left behind will always be in the back of our minds… If so and so was here they would be able to cheer me up/ give me the right advise etc. But the sad fact is that after a while these friends too go their own way, move to another country, get married and have babies which rightly take priority over joining you to drink down your sorrowful love-life in the local pub. I would like to site my parents and the key example here. At age 52 (but he didn’t look any older than 40… ok 35) my father brought his wife and two youngest daughters to live in Israel. My parents prior to this had lived all their lives in Leeds and were still best of friends with people they had met at youth clubs in their teens. But they decided that Israel was worth the sacrifice of leaving behind the comfortable and reliable social circle they had so loved in good old Leeds, and decided to come to settle in Ra’anana, not really having a friend in the town. Now nine years on I see my parents in close friendships similar to those that they had developed over many many years. So have no fear… If two oldies can make new friends so can us younguns ;)


Life’s Treasures

Another thing I have been blog reading recently is the phrase “quality and not quantity”. It is something that makes me laugh out loud. People (myself included) will regularly use this phrase in a way to make themselves feel better for the lack of something they have… in this case friends. Who is to say that you can only have quality OR quantity? I believe… no I know that I have both (my friends are all now reading this with serious inflated ego issues).

Why am I so special? I am not. As I said, it has taken some time for me to get to the stage where I can say I have a secure group of friends around me. But I think the key in any relationship is trust. I trust my friends, and in return they trust me; I rely on my friends, and in return they rely on me; I turn to my friends, and in return they turn to me… or maybe it is the other way around… which came first Little Miss Graham or her friends?

What I am trying to say is that on the one hand it does take time to build a quality amount of good friends around you. However, if you find that you have been living in Israel for a considerable amount of time… lets say 10 years or so, and you are still wondering where the quality friends are, maybe you should be looking to yourself instead of judging those around you for being less than willing to help you in your time of need.

Seriously, some people are bad friends and in turn attract only bad friends, and then wonder to themselves why oh why they are less than willing to help you in your time of need, or listen to your problems. I mean seriously if you are at the age of 30 still using your friends to ease your insecurities in life, but are less than sensitive when it comes to theirs then what do you expect? What were the friendship developing years of university for? You clearly learnt nothing! At some point in our twenties we all come to realise that after our family has let us fly the nest the only person you can rely on is yourself. Your friends may be the most wonderful people in the world, but ultimately they can only be there so much, and at the end of the day have their own lives to deal with. But on the other hand if you take that selfish attitude too far, of “MY needs, MY insecurities” where is the room in that for your friends’ needs and insecurities.

My advice is this; go out, get a life, get a job, stop whinging over not having found the man of your dreams and most importantly stop being a bitch to the friends who are actually willing to stick around you! They are your life’s treasures, so love them, give them a hug to show you care, listen to their problems without throwing them back in their face. And you never know, one day you may find the doors opening, the arms outstretched, more than willing to help you in your time of need, and to pick you up when you are down.

Roots Shmootz

Laylah Lavan - (Sleepless Night)

You want to know where I have been? You really want to know? Ok… So I think a brief recap is required. Thursday night was a fun filled evening out with the ladies to a couple of bars in Tel Aviv, before we split off into those who wanted to eat and those who wanted to swim. I was one of the ones who jumped into the warm Med and had a little paddle before realising that everyone else was there to relieve themselves whereas I just wanted to enjoy the warm water… which became less pleasurable once I began to realise how piss warm the sea was… ok enough dipping my head under the water now. So after we all got dressed or finished our post alcohol feast, we walked back to my apartment where I quickly showered off the sand and wee, and then collapsed into my bed… time 4am.


4.30am – I woke up with an aching in my jaw. Look over to see Eli fast asleep on the mattress on the floor next to me. Looked at the clock to see I had only been asleep for half an hour. Tried to go back to sleep

4.40am – Sleeping is not an option with the pain getting worse I get up out of bed, pour myself a drink and get the Advil in hand and walk into the lounge to watch TV for a bit. I hope that Nooman doesn’t walk in as I could not find my clothes in the dark.

5am – Try going back to sleep as watching the TV seemed to help the pain ease off.

5.10am – Ok now I am starting to feel crazy…the pain is back once I put my head on the pillow. I get back up another drink and start crying because I have no more drugs in the apartment to take.

5.20am – My eyes are aching and I just want to sleep. Maybe rinsing my mouth with Cordisil will help

5.30am – Back in bed I try to put my mind above the pain and somewhere else so that I can get a little shut eye

5.50am – Why the fuck is Eli still asleep!! Wake up and give me some sympathy! I now cannot stop crying and am seriously thinking that I am going crazy… maybe Ginrod and I had one of our drunken play fights and she punched me in the jaw… no I would remember that, I mean I did not have that much to drink. Ok I am going crazy!

By 6am I had officially given in to the pain. Sat on the sofa watching Sky News, crying over the pain that was only getting worse and worse, and wondering who I could call and what exactly they would be able to do to help!

Eventually it turned 7am, and I decided to give up, take advantage of them being so close, and called my parents for some mummy and daddy sympathy. They tried their best to calm me down and suggested that I come home. Not the best thing to suggest to the stubborn Little Miss Graham, who has always seen ‘coming home’ as admitting defeat and returning to sucking my thumb, stomping my foot, and standing in the corner huffing and puffing over my misfortunes. But after initially politely declining my parents' kind offer, I decided that I could not wait for Eli or Nooman to wake up… I mean on a Friday morning the only people you can really rely on to be awake before noon are the mummy and daddy, so at 7.30 I got dressed grabbed my bag and car keys and headed to Ra’anana to find the cure to my pain.


There’s No Place like Home


I arrived at my parent’s place at 8am to my father walking towards me, arms outstretched, wrapped in his Teffilin, almost like the Cohanim blessing the children of Israel. My father gave me a big bear hug and a kiss and I knew I had made the right decision to come home. Mum came running down the stairs in her PJ’s cooing “My poor Channahboo, My poor Channahboo”, and we all sat on the sofa while I gave them a brief history of my pain and how I was beginning to think that I was crazy.

Despite the fact that on a normal day, in a normal situation, my parents are generally the first people to make me go crazy, when I am crying and thinking that I am totally insane, they are in fact the best people to make me realise that I am in fact totally sane… well not 100% sane, but enough that they don’t worry about leaving me alone with sharp objects. Anyway, after a lot of crying and talking and sobbing and moaning, and my dad laughing at me as I called myself Bubba Gump, my parents suggested that I call my dentist on the off chance that he was in the surgery, and see if I could get an emergency appointment.

Exactly 10 minutes later my father and I were in the surgery of Pearl and Dental. Even though he had had 4 emergency calls in, I was the first one there… well I was a true emergency, so I was placed straight on the chair, where I sobbed to my dentist about the pain I was in. I stressed the word pain, as I was hoping he would give me some barely legal painkillers to sooth my pain, and let me get some sleep.

Five minutes in the chair, and it was conclusive… I had to have root canal! I was naively relieved to hear the news. Well at least I was not insane! Little did I know that the pain that I had experienced was only the tip of the iceberg… hmmmmm I never did get those painkillers! Instead I got a dose of antibiotics, and two appointments to have the procedure, which I was a little freaked out about as everyone kept referring to as an operation. Operation?!? I planned my life around avoiding ever having an operation and only ever having to go into hospitals to visit other people or to give birth, and even then I am thinking the homebirth method would be better… well more calming for the mother to be anyway.

Despite the fact that I now knew that my pain was real, that there was a cure, and that my sanity was still in tact, there was the small issue of the fact that the pain was very much still there, none of the standard painkillers were helping, and the lack of sleep was making me go insane! Call in mama to the rescue! Mum immediately got on the phone and called her friends on the chance that any of them might have some spare sleeping tablets. Within two phone calls we had found the drugs and I was on my next mission to go and collect them, get home and into bed before the wave of severe pain started up again… sucking on an ice cube had lulled the pain a little.

Finally I was in bed swallowing half a sleeping tablet, switching off my mobile, and allowing the little pill to take me far away into blissful sleep that I had bee deprived off for so long… I totally understand how people can get addicted to this pill… it is pure heaven! Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz


That’s What Friends Are For


I decided that despite the fact that my parents had been amazing, and that the bed the made up for me was more than comfortable, especially with a few sleeping pills in me, I really wanted to be in my own bed. Plus when I finally returned to the land of the living and switched my phone back on, I realised how many people were concerned about my welfare back in Tel Aviv, and lets face it, numbers do count, well two is better than one and 5 is better than 2, so I decided that I would go home and give my friends a chance to pamper me with their sympathy.

Do not underestimate the power of sympathy my friends. When someone is sympathising with your pain, giving you the ‘poor you’ look, and asking if there is anything they can get you or do for you, it does help. Ok so yes I was still in the most amount of pain that I have ever been in my life, but the fact that all my friends were concerned about me soothed me enough so that despite the pain I did not feel the need to cry anymore. Well at least while they were all around. Later when I was trying to sleep and the sleeping tablet was not working (shit I think I am already immune to them!) all I could do was cry. Nooman tired and ready for bed was at a loss, and offered to sleep in my room with me to calm me down. Calm me down it did not, but I did for the first time in 48 hours feel the urge to burst into laughter. “Thanks Nooman, but I don’t think your presence in my room will be the breaking point of my pain… nice try though ;)”. When I later told my dad what he said my father responded, “Cheeky devil! That is an old school attempt… I thought better of Nooman.” But in his defence, snuggling with someone would have made me feel a lot better, ok not ‘a lot’ but somewhat soothed… but I was not in the mood to play lets pretend with Nooman, but you have to love him for trying.

Even friends from England and the states called in to check up on the invalid. Seriously I am feeling very honoured and spoiled right now. My ego has re-inflated and despite the severe pain I am happy in the knowledge that if I died today there would be a nice amount of people crying over the grave. Although… please note that in my funeral requests (known by Eli) I have stated that there should be no boo hooing at my funeral… just lots of drunken laughter and talking about the funny things I once did before being shot dead by a jealous lover (this is my fantasy death ok!)

Anyway, I had the root canal done under a lot of anaesthetic and laughing gas, and now that the worst is over I am thinking that I am in need of some rehab. To all my friends and family who realise that root canal is more painful than mosquito bites, I love you all so much and promise that I will return to my non moaning self once I have weaned myself off the painkillers and sleeping pills.

And just a little final note to the end of this seriously long blog:

June 27th 2006 – My 2nd year Anniversary of Aliyah!!!!!

Gone Loco

So I am currently being held hostage by my work. I hate the fact that in my current job everything I do I have to wait for the approval, or the specifications from someone else! It is highly frustrating especially when you time your evening around leaving the office at 5pm, and then are told by one of the Lawyers that they have a last minute filing and that they should have the approved text by 3.30. It is no wonder that Lawyers have a reputation for being Liars because here I am at 5pm, the time I should be walking out of the door, still waiting for the approved text, or any text for that matter!

I could get angry, stomp around the office, refuse to do the filing and tell them to get one of the girls in the New York office to deal with it, but to be honest I am too tired to fight over it anymore. So instead I sit, bored out of mind, watching the clock on my desktop tick further and further into my social life, and eat further and further into my dwindling supply of patience.

The annoying thing about this happening at the end of my day, apart from the fact that it is ruining my evening plans of going to the gym, hanging out with Lexus Maximus (over from Jerusalem) before she goes to a party, and then spending the evening catching up with a friend I haven’t seen since we made cheesecakes for Shavuot,… the annoying thing is that I have already read all the usual blogs/ newspapers/ articles that I would usually read during the boring hours of my day. Now I am sat here with nothing except for a blank sheet on Word to blog my vent onto. And I apologise that you poor people have to hear my vent because I have no energy to take it out on the liars… I mean Lawyers that deserve it!

Why am I tired? Well after going to the gym last night (in my trainers because despite them being like walking on air, you just cannot run in crocs) I headed out with the JSAP and the Ginrod for a drink. A drink turned into another drink, with mixers and chasers along the way, a chicken schnitzel to make sure it all went down well and finished off with a bottle of wine. When I finally got home, way past my midweek bedtime, I then had to deal with a cockroach who wanted to dance La Cucaracha one last time before he met his maker and the bottom of my shoe.

I swept all the cockroach corpses out into the hallway, well if the Vad Bayit won’t get the building sprayed then he better watch he feet when he walks past our door to his apartment, and in any case his ugly mut of a dog could do with the extra protein. Ok dog lovers out there get over it, I love dogs too, but haven’t seen this thing… it is a rat dressed as a dog… it’s obscene! Anyway, after I swept the cockroaches out of the flat, I scanned my room, inside my sheets and under my bed for any other nasty surprises, but thankfully that was it, and finally at 2am I fell asleep, secure in the knowledge that I would be up in another 4 hours, but at least it would be a fairly easy day at work and I could enjoy a pleasant evening ahead… And look how well that is working out for me!

Actually in my boredom I just googled the song La Cucaracha, and found out that the song we used to sing in our primary school music class was not about a dancing cockroach as the illustrations in the music book and our teacher would have us believe! I knew she didn't understand Spanish!

Verse 1:

When a fellow loves a maiden

And that maiden doesn't love him,

It's the same as when a bald man

Finds a comb upon the highway.

Chorus:

The cucaracha,

the cucaracha

Doesn't want to travel on

Because she hasn't

Oh, no, she hasn't

Marijuana for to smoke.

Sing Along Everyone!!

What a Crocs of SHIT

On my trip away I noticed something very interesting about the holiday shopper. The holiday shopper is different from the regular shopper as the regular shopper shops with purpose. Be it that it is for a particular item (a dress they need for a wedding, a new pair of glasses, shoes etc) or just for retail therapy, the run of the mill shopper knows exactly what he or she wants. The holiday shopper on the other hand… well, just think back yourselves over the random shit that you have either bought while away or received from a friend who got back from holiday and thought “why the hell did I buy that?!” so decided to unload it on to you!

As we waddled back to the hotel from our first meal in Eilat, heavy with a meaty belly, I noticed all the little stalls along the boulevard, selling the same old shit; the same hippy bags, floaty skirts, piece of shit jewellery and shoes. I always notice shoes when I go to Eilat. The thing you have to remember about shopping in Eilat is that it is tax free, so particularly dangerous for the phantom holiday shopper. Whenever I know I am going to Eilat I think about the shoes I need and when I am in Eilat I go shoe crazy! However this time I was not really in a shoe place, well all I am wearing at the moment are flip flops and all they seem to be selling in the shops are the revolting wedge cork healed things that I do not wish to have anywhere near my feet.

However this did not stop my friend ogling the Birkenstock shoes that were selling in the stalls for 60 shekels. We stopped at one stall where a guy with two hair braids out of his chin was working it… when I mean working it I mean working the charm to get a sale… he was just working it on the wrong girl! So as my friend was trying on her shoes I leaned against the wall trying to stay awake as our heavy meal weighed down my eyelids:

Hair braid beard: You ok? You don’t want to buy any shoes? (in Hebrew)
Me: אני עייפה (meaning I am tired)
Hair braid beard: לא לא- את יפיפייה (no no - you are very beautiful/ extremely pretty/ very attractive)
Me: er… ok… thanks… yawn.

And this is when the guy with weird facial hair decided to pinch my cheek and say “cooch cooch”… hmmmmm

Not being one for baby talk I decided to make a speedy exit and decided that 60 shek Birkenstocks were not the way to go. Maybe I should buy some trainers instead and start walking off all the food we have eaten!

But then the next day, at the pool, one of the girls who were also staying at the hotel showed me her new Crocs shoes. Now for those of you who have no idea what these are, let me give you a simple definition: Crocs shoes are without a doubt the ugliest looking shoes every invented! Yet everyday I see people walking the streets in Tel Aviv sporting a pair.. usually in bright orange of all colours! Seriously, forget what I said earlier about the cork healed shoes, these things are just plain revolting! But when she made me try on her flip flop version of the shoes I suddenly realised what everyone had been going on about. What they lack in style they certainly do make up for in comfort… not to sound like a cliché, but it truly is like walking on air! And the flip flop version really is not that bad, although their choice of colours is pretty dire! I mean you have luminous pink, orange, yellow, and purple to name a few, to choose from. Being someone who prefers to be flamboyant in my personality and not reflect that in my dress I managed to find a black pair with a cream soul… People I have not taken them off since! I am seriously thinking about whether or not I can go to the gym in them tonight as they are much more comfortable than my trainers… So despite the curse of holiday shopping being that you buy things you would not be seen dead in when you return to the real world, I think I managed to come away from the weekend unscathed in that respect! Don’t get me wrong, the shoes are still revolting, but the flip flops… now that is a must buy!


My little sister just told me that she has ordered a pair of the Crocs shoes in yellow! I throw my hands up! Does no one listen to me anymore???

Israel in a Bus

On Thursday I left work early grabbed my goodies I bought for the trip and headed to the central bus station in Tel Aviv to catch my bus to Eilat. We had a reservation booked for 10.15 at the Ranch House (meat meat meat) and the bus driver had promised us that we would arrive by 10, so we were sat on the bus holding our empty bellies, salivating at the thought of some decent steak.

Riding on a bus in Israel is often an interesting experience. Unlike the regular trips I would take up and down the M1 on the National Express (oh memories of Eli and the Cranberries! Good times!), the busses in Israel do not adhere to maximum capacity seating. On the National Express you cannot be stood up on the bus longer than it takes you to run to the loo, hold your breath from the stench and run back to your seat without some wide assed bus attendant telling you to remain seated. That is unless your bus had a trolley dolly which the Leeds London bus generally did, who would then get on his mike and say in his campest tone, “Bottoms on seats please ladies.” On the Israeli Egged busses however there is no such thing. Space is space and if the bus driver can fit another body in, even if it means putting small children up with the hand-luggage, then he will.

We arrived at the bus stop 5 minutes before it was due to leave. We got on, found some seats and despite the fact that I was wishing I had time for my final last minute wee, I was eager to get on the road and on to meat heaven. But the driver was having issues with passengers who just were not ready to get on the bus. A young girl was arguing with the driver as she really wanted to get on the bus, but her friends who she was travelling with had disappeared. An old man on the bus was unimpressed and was shouting at the driver to get his ass and his bus in first gear and get a move on! So to get the old man to shut up the driver drove around the bus station only to drive back to the original bus stop and wait for the girl again. By this point we were 20 minutes late and I was worried about the reservation, however the commotion on the bus was enough to keep me entertained.

Old Man: This is unacceptable. We should have left 20 minutes ago. Move this bus or I will move it for you!
The Peacemaker: Sit down old man, you may break a hip. We will be leaving soon
Old Man: If I break my hip I will sue!
Bus Driver: What is the rush we will be leaving in 5 minutes
Old Man: 5 MINUTES!! WE SHOULD HAVE LEFT 20 MINUTES AGO! I HAVE WORK TO GET BACK FOR!
Random Man: Yeah work in Sheshbesh!

The whole of the bus erupted into laughter and the old man jumped out of his seat to punch the driver followed by the random guy who made the sheshbesh comment (an accurate one I think). The peacemaker stood in the old man’s way to protect the driver. Meanwhile the young girl turned up with 3 of her friends, two old couples who had been getting food for the journey and four French tourists, who the entire bus wished we had left behind.

Finally on the road the entertainment did not end there. The old man was still screaming for his pound of flesh, the French were busy trying to invade everybody else’s seats, while one of the old couples that arrived last minute was arguing about seating numbers… what seating numbers? As it turns out the old people had a point. Half way through the journey a guy gets on the bus and informs me that he had booked my seat.

Me: But we booked the seat
Guy: No… this is my seat, look, here is the number
Me: What number? There are no seat numbers!

Well I felt really stupid when he reached between my legs, and just as I am about to slap him, he shows me that my leg that I was resting against the chair in front, was in fact concealing the seat numbers. He was right and I was wrong… oh well no chance he was going to let me share he DVD player now! So after a lot of musical chairs we were finally in our designated seats and half way to Eilat… and my bladder was beating me up for not having my last minute wee!

Anyway, to make a long story short (or shorter) we arrived in Eilat too late for the booking, but the restaurant kindly let us come in late meaning that we were the last people eating in the restaurant except for two famous Israeli football players (I have no idea who they are) who they had kept the restaurant open especially for. After consuming a baby cow we took the rest of the weekend to recover, sit by the pool, get pedicures, and soak up the sun. The weekend felt like a week! It was shear bliss!

So I am back from the mini Las Vegas of Israel, a little more tanned and a little heavier from all the food we ate there. A friend of mine once went away with her father to Florida and returned looking like an Umpa Lumpa (from the original Charlie and the Chocolate Factory) from all the junk food and sun she consumed there. I look at myself sideways and to be honest I wouldn’t quite say Umpa Lumpa as I’m not really short enough, but I am a browner and pregnant looking me at the moment! And with a wedding around the corner I am heading back to the gym to get rid of the baby weight… well when you eat a baby cow what do you expect!

Talking Shki

I am going through a very clumsy stage at the moment. In general I am a very well put together level headed kinda girl, and have managed to go through my life without doing anything too embarrassing in public. But recently I have found that no matter how careful I am being, the gods are up above playing tricks on me and as a result I have been transformed into a clumsy fool.


In the last month I have:
Spilled my drink over my desk approximately 20 times (I kid you not!),
Tripped over 5 times (resulting in ripping my favourite jeans),
Fallen out of bed once,
Forgotten to turn the oven on twice (actually I have only used the oven in my flat twice)
Stubbed my toe on the edge of my bed 6 times (my little toe is triangular shaped)
Washed my hair with conditioner instead of shampoo twice
Washed my hair 4 times because I picked up the shampoo instead of the conditioner 3 times
Oh and then I have walked into the giant pillar in my office a total of 4 times.

I am sure there are more weird and wonderful things I have done over the last month, but seriously, I think that list above is more than enough!!

Eli: Channah you are seriously clumsy at the moment. What’s wrong with you?
Levly: Yeah Chans you are worse than me! Ha ha
Me: I don’t know what is wrong with me!
Eli: Well I am moving my glasses out of the way. I don’t trust you not to stand on them.

It is bad enough that my best friends are now moving their precious items out of my way “just in case”, but people in my office are also starting to notice:

Nic: What is wrong with you at the moment?
Me: I have no idea
Nic: Period?
Me: No
Nic: Maybe you’re in love!

Yeah… I don’t think a little crush constitutes love! Love! Hell no!!


I have been at the supermarket buying last minute essentials for Eilat. I woke up this morning to realise that I had run out of razors and deodorant (other than the white stick that is more successful at staining my clothes than keeping me fresh all day long). It is funny how going to Eilat for me is a nice weekend break living in Israel. You forget that when you were living in England the idea of going to Eilat was pure luxury.

TP: I’m so jealous! I’m coming too!
Me: Seriously? I would love it if you did! I would be your BFF
TP: BFF?
Me: Best friend for ever and ever – I would even consider naming my first born after you
TP: Why not name all your kids after me?
Me: I would shout out "Tal get your shoes on" or "Tal you are grounded" and they would all think it was them! And as I hope to have 4-5 kids it could become very very confusing.
TP: Well it’s what George Forman did.
Me: Loser

Meanwhile we are both trying to work while thousands of miles apart. He asks how my love life is going and I ask about the wife and kiddy. It is funny how despite being so far away, despite not seeing each other more than once a year he will always be the person I go to for advice on men and relationships, and I will always be the friend he send pervey msn icons to with no fear of his wife getting jealous. I open a bottle of diet sprite and it explodes all over my computer, while Tal (TP) also pretends to work while scouring the web for new blogs.

TP: You’ve got me really addicted to Blogs. I'm blaming u for lack of sleep and possibly losing my job… square eyes…. And lack of exercise.
Me: Maybe you should write one! Under a pseudonym of course…
TP: Not sure I’d let you read it though
Me: Why? Unless you are going to write about your undying lust for me
TP: Of course! I’m going to call it "guy with a one track mind"
Me: Ok I am blocking you now!
TP: Ah…. My work is done!

Sushi for the Soul

Another night out with peeps, this time the JSAP took me for sushi with a couple of her friends and of course the ginrod. It is always a strange dynamic when 4 girls get together, the conversation will generally turn to men and dating and heartbreaking, but when you add a single guy to the group it becomes awkward if not impossible to allow the conversation to go down that route. So instead you eat your sushi, discuss life, religion and politics and enjoy intellectual debate over whether a mashkiach has to turn on the oven or whether he is just there to watch and keep out of the way… By the time we left to walk to a pub for more drinks my belly was ready to give birth to little sushi and I was aching for some light and silly conversation.

The only problem is that at the moment I am finding it hard to do the small talk, to chat shit… well maybe one or two people can suck it out of me, but by and large, small talk is out. I thought about running away to the beach and jumping in, but I decided that that was merely the sushi inside me trying to get home… and if I had got in the water I would have been more waddling to the beach and sinking rather than run and swim. And then there is the worst part, when all you want to do is pick up the phone and speak to someone, but you stop yourself because it is their turn to call you, because Brazil is playing Croatia and that is what they are going to be thinking about… not you, because quite frankly it is getting pathetic and you should be thinking about something more important! That is always the straw on the camels back for me… so I order another wine and strike up a conversation about the Russian/ Polish blood flowing through my veins and realise that I am a European Jew through and through… no interesting family skeletons in the Graham closet! Well none that I have been told anyway…

Sometimes I feel like I am living in a snow globe whose flakes have all but settled on the scenery and is only aching for me to shake it up again. The only thing is that after 27 years of shaking it up for myself, the fun has pretty much gone and all I want now is someone else to come along and shake it for me… let me watch the joy it gives them for a change.

TP: What do you want honey? You have to be able to say what you what.

Me: I just want a guy I like to randomly turn up at my door, throw me over his shoulder and take me out on an amazing night out… and then ravage me at the end of the evening.

I mean that is what I would do if I were a guy and I liked a girl.

TP: Yes you would…

Me: But that is because if I were a guy I would have balls!

TP: That you would. That’s something I would definitely like to see on your blog… Doesn’t have to be too crude, you could just hold some strategically placed tennis balls.

This weekend is all about Eilat… I am starting to really enjoy these weekend getaways, although my bank is going to have something to say about it pretty soon. And then there is the forthcoming birthday, and the age old question of what to do, who to invite, to make a big deal or to just have a quiet dinner with select friends. This year I have a craving to get scandalously drunk and make a fool of myself. But on the other hand I am also thinking about a chilled weekend up north… hmmmmm maybe a long weekend can be split between the two… any takers?

Eeekow Badin

After half a bottle of wine and many hours of football watching my brain is starting to hurt from the lack of action, and that is not the only part of my body that is craving some action! Only a certain amount of tension can be released from playing thumb war (peeknuckle) with a ginrod, who informs me that despite my perceptions I am not the size 4 (American stats) vixen I think I am and what makes me so loveable is my vibrant personality, wit and charm and the fact that I am apparently A class. What does this mean? Well it means that as opposed to these other girls who get what they want without batting an eyelid (or maybe just flashing a little cleavage), I have to wait for the dumb shmuck to realize that while being friends is great, ultimately we all want to be able to cuddle up to someone warm at night… other than nooman. Meanwhile my JSAP (Jewish South African Princess), otherwise known as the Dolce Vita, informs me that if he ain’t made a move by now Eeekow Badin… hmmmmm not so sure about that one!

Sitting in the office, bored by the work you are doing, allows your mind to wander. You can sit and obsess over the irrelevancies in your life, such as above, or you can partake in some productive or not so productive activities.

Some websites to while the hours away:

Celeb Lookalike

Celeb Match

Grey's Anatomy Personality Test


So at the end of a productive morning in the office I discovered that I look 66% like Yasmine Bleeth, I personality wise am 66% like Meredith Grey, and am 99% compatible with Rodger Federer. Maybe I am more of the stunning vixen than the ginrod gave me credit for!

And all because we love Nooman

You have heard me jabber on about my sweet roomie Nooman in many of my blogs, and here today you are priviledged to see the stud muffin himself in action -

Doin' the Robot!!!

Where me Lucky Charms?

When I was young it felt like everything I ever wanted came so easily. I breezed through friends, boyfriends, school and life with not much of a care in the world. I felt sometimes like I had the ability to see and know how things would work out; that just because I willed things to happen they would. An old friend of mine used to claim the same thing. She would imagine the situation resulting in her own good fortune and low and behold it would transpire. We liked to think at the time that this was due to our good relationship with the Big G. I would lie in bed and will the A in my English Lit A’ Level, and despite not really revising the Big G granted me the A grade I had prayed for.

But then you get to a certain age where no matter how much you will it, it will never happen the way you planned. Everything seems to go wrong, and no matter how much you try, good luck has bid you goodbye and you are pretty much on your own wondering where all your lucky charms went!

Just when I was starting to think that I had used up all my wishes, squandered them on immature needs and desires, a friend of mine told me that her father had recently cut her off. Coming from a very wealthy family, she had never wanted for anything, and every little desire her heart could muster her doting father would provide. However, after 25 years of being daddy’s little girl he politely told his daughter that now was the time for her to spread her own wings, learn to live independently, and most importantly pay her own bills. Now to say that he cut her off would be extreme, but in the best way a father can he informed his little Jewish Princes that it was time for her to stand on her own two feet and walk her own way… he would always be there to pick her up if she fell, but the everyday step by step was up to her and her alone.

And so I see that after years and years of being carried by the Big G through life he has now; now that I have had a scar free couple of years in the holy land; now that I am pretty sorted with all the necessities of life, he has now informed me that it is time that I handled my own problems, that I have to find my own way in life. I realise that he will always be there for the serious things, but on a day to day basis I’m just gonna have to sit in the traffic of life like everyone else!

But every now and then he still throws a little treat my way… And last week it came in the form of Patrick Dempsey… I am one lucky girl!!

Everything is All White!!

Well, Tuesday 30th May was the final day of the teeth whitening experiment, and although looking at them I am still a little uncomfortable with the fact that my teeth are still slightly yellow at the top, I finally managed to look at a before and after shot, which has definitely shut my complaining mouth up! It actually makes me a little ashamed that I waited so long to sort them out! I mean looking at the before and after shots I am shocked that no-one pointed them out sooner! Apart from my dad, but when it comes to beauty I have often thought my dad should stick to his preferred subjects of bills, directions, and the general how do I do this… But now it is a whole new story!

Anyway, I will shut up and let you peeps judge for yourself…









So now the teeth experiment is done the celebs have been knocking down my door... I will send you some of the photographic evidence of my night of fun with Patrick Dempsey! Plus stay tuned for more before and after shots! Channahboo has never quite been the same!

Chag Sameach to you all - Try not to Overdoes on Cheesecake before Shavuot actually starts like I did!