Picture Perfect

ok? Happy? Have we got this clear now? Good.
And yes, Cat, I see now what you mean by the bus thing. And every so often I do get nightmares that indeed, Arty, my apparant reputation may just preceed me and preclude me from said pretty girls, though I'm really not worried. Most unfortunately, I used to be well known amongst the girls. I say "used to" as I receeded pretty quickly from that scene as I believed it was not a good thing to get involved with anyone whilst in school [most un/fortunately, people still remember me]. The only benefit of being well known, was that my younger sister had a few people looking out for her when she joined high school. The down-side, however, is, without an inkling of a doubt, someone doing a background check on me then coming to introduce themselves to me. It was pretty scary when someone I had never met could tell me who I was, where I lived, and where I went to school. What was even more scary, was that they didn't tell me any of their information, such as their name.

 I can't say I was particularly fond of that girl.

However! In this case, the risk is worth the action. Perhaps now my readers begin to understand JUST how scary this particular girl is... 

I got an e-mail today. It told me that I had answered a question on "yahoo! answers" and it had been chosen as a favourite by the questioner. This answer was indeed submitted by me, about two months ago, I believe. The subject was: what is canonical cover in functional dependency?

I'll be darned if I know. Something to do with numbers, methinks.

And onto paintballing.
This was awesome. I had such fun. Of course, my team of 10 comprised of 8 Americans, and one other Englishman, meaning the Americans had no plan, no co-ordination, and spent bullets easily.

I, on the other hand, enlisted my fellow Brit, and one clever American to go deep into "enemy" territory and win the game from my tactical planning. The result was that the two unfortunate fellows with me got shot early on by very good shooters, and so there I was, alone, pinned down, in "enemy" territory.
Cut a long story short, it was awesome awesome fun. And I never got hit the entire 2 hours of play.

No, Cat, not because I hid behind a tree for 2 hours.
I had many "kills." Then I decided to shoot peoples arms and legs and hands (all devoid of padding) to scare them. Meh heh heh heh.

I would never consider joing the army. It's just too damn risky.
Imagining every paintball to be a live round, it was a little scary. As you all well know, I am a possible candidate for the Israeli Army, which I am trying to avoid.

Talking about armies, I took a picture of an Indian navy crew today. They were in Jerusalem for some odd reason.



And now, onto things of more import.
On my way to the grocery store last night (12:00 midnight, with 3 other guys, dressed in my PJ's) I heard a public pay phone ringing just as we approached it. Of course, I simply had to answer. I did.

Most people who've seen "Phonebooth" or "Liberty Stands Still" will never answer a random ringing public phone in their lives, let alone one at 12:00am outside an Israeli government building. My only hesitation was to decide which language to answer in.

I settled for English with my rubbish american accent. Hello? I said. What eminated from the other side of the line may be described as quite a startling voice, the type one would expect to hear from the mouth of an axe-murderer. Or any type of serial killer, really, they don't have to be holding an axe. His exact words were: "I know what you did last summer."

Looking about for the red bead on my chest (there was none) I decided it was pretty safe. "Oh, ok. Thank you very much for keeping an eye out for me." And hung up the phone. Turned out to be one of my friends. Meh heh heh. I coungratulated him in earnest for pulling a prank of such good potential. On my way back, alone this time, again, the phone rang. I answered. "You have won --1,000-- shekels at --12:20am-- to claim your prize..." no doubt my friends again. The last thing they said: Big Brother's always watching.

And indeed he is.
I therefore conclude that answering random ringin phones is indeed THE thing to do. Especially if it's some poor bloke on the other end who asks for Paul, or Edward, or something. Of course, it's only the idiots who stick their heads out the booth and yell to the crowded streets "I've got a call for Paul! Is there a Paul here?!"

The situation in Israel isn't very good.
People are being kidnapped by the Arabs left, right and centre. Out of 3 kidnappings of people in the past 3 days, I expect only 1 to come back alive, if alive at all.

 I have succeeded in wasting away about 30 minutes of time, whilst my friend went to buy me the most AMAZING pastries. I must off now, as they will be warm if I leave now.

And, OH, before I forget THIS time.
Cat was totally right. You DO look like Chloe Sevigny.

Now I know this is another thing which annoys you. Meh heh heh heh.


Things to do in England:
1) Renew passport.
2) Get job.
3) Travel.
4) Say goodbye to American friends who came to visit London, and will by now be leaving.
5) Start uni. Gah. I dislike this part.

ARTY! Did you get your birthday card which I sent, a few months ago? 

As to the resident atheists on blogspirit, who live in the UAE...I trust you understand the UAE is not a good place to emphasise your atheistic values. I trust you realise this, and will take action accordingly.

I never did understand what a bunch of aussies were doing in the UAE.
My theory is your parents are spies, and you are possibly being trained in the art to form a super-squad of Aussie spies who will eventually take over the world, or at least England...final payback for sending you to those inhospitable lands over 150 years ago... 

Arty, meh heh heh. I am glad I have found a new way to make you cringe. I shall use this tip-off to the fullest extent. As to me fretting, why, harly. As I said, if I ever do work out, it's just to annoy my roomate.

Cat, I don't really care what most people think. Are you most people, is the question I leave you to ponder. As to manipulating people into thinking I'm gay, that would be so silly to do, seeing as I could just make a post professing my gayness.

As you can see, no such post exists.

Shan, I can't believe you commented on my blog. It's been, oh so long.

My news, you ask?
The sky is blue, the grass is green and the girls are indeed pretty.

In short, I have none. I'm taking lost of pictures, and have even bought a photo-album to house them. Aside from this, it's the same story of absolute fun.

I'm sure I'm going to think of something terribly important to say when I leave, but, as I can't do so at the current moment in time, I am afraid I must leave you all.

Oh. I'm going on a paintballing trip this tuesday. This is indeed fun.

See you all!

I've decided to stop lifting weights.
This is different to the first time I stopped working out, on the basis that I was bed-riddenly ill, and was physically incapable of lifting an arm, let alone more than the amount my airline allows me to put inside my suitcase.

And it's different from the second time I stopped.
About a month ago, I was doing press-ups. Some people seem to imagine me as the bookish-whizz kid (pah!), unfit to lift anything but a pen, and so this picture alone should cause hilarity enough to an online buddy or two *cought-cat-cough.* Instead, imagine me without the special powers and capabilities of that freakishly bookish type, my only special powers being the capability to keep my hair straight and in place without actually brushing it in the mornings [I do own a brush, however. One must keep up appearances. (notice the sly joke, eh, eh?)].
During press-up 24 I thought "Why? Why am I doing this to myself? My arms feel like dough, and yet I persist in holding my entire body weight with them, and then lifting it and releasing it."
A small voice at the back of my head I rarely listen to popped up. "Well, I'm sure SOMEone will appreciate it."

This is exactly the reason why I do not listen to the voices at the back of my head. Just WHO is someone? Me? I'm in pain, and I don't appreaciate pain. So then who? A guy? All the more reason to stop, stand back against the wall, and grab a fire poker on the way. A girl? Some distant far-off pale face is hardly a reason to subject myself to this sort of thing. Of course, I stopped right away. But this leaves me with a question:

Do girls actually *like* guys with bulging muscles? If you can call yourself a female, feel free to answer, or not, as the case may be.

 One last thing: I've stopped this time because I do NOT like the shape of the muscles. I'm sorry, I just don't think it looks nice. The Americans who manage to catch me and grope my bisceps maintain this is the way it's SUPPOSED to be. I don't care. I don't like it, and with a lack of an incentive to continue, I shall stop. Ok. I have one incestive. It greatly annoys my roomate/friend/person/argument-guy. Meh heh heh.



And onto wine. I bought a bottle of wine, had half a glass and threw up. Damned wine. It smelled bad, but I wasn't about to let 2 pounds ($3.50) go to waste now was I? No. I paid for it by puking up the chips I bought for 3 pounds earlier (another reason to love Israel: The booze is cheaper than a plate of chips). The bottle was abandoned, and this is all I have to say about the subject.

Women? What do *I* know about this subject?!

Cuckoos though. I know a lot about those.
Arty, my dear, the "one flew over the cuckoo's nest" is a brilliant literary work by Ken Kesey, developed into a film. I suggest you read the book. The film is good too, so I'm told.

Cat, what do you mean my friend and I act gay a lot? You mean to say we do this without knowing? 
Or do you refer to those secret evenings we spend together, frolicking about in the woods, naked under the blessed stars, holding hands and braiding each other's hair? 

One flew over the cuckoos nest.  

Girls are quite pretty, really.

My year here is almost up. I'm loving these months, of course. However, my studies have fallen by the wayside as I make more time to have lots and lots of fun. My sleeping pattern isn't what it used to be either, neither is my bank account.

Such is the price of fun.

But it's not ALL fun and games. I am well on the way to finishing the tractate of law I'm studying, which is - actually - quite an accomplishment. I have also decided not to set foot in America this year, due to the high cost of tickets and the low amount in my bank account - as well as the fact that I still have to finish off in Israel, and would then like to go on day trips in Europe: a day in Scotland, Republic of Ireland and Italy. I'm not going anywhere near France, as the current climate is not exactly hospitable towards me.

I'm in no hurry to leave Israel, but I have decided to leave earlier than I could forsee. Indeed, I am leaving around the 10th (partly just to annoy my friend. I'm sure you can guess who) and partly because, as far as I'm concerned, I can tour the week before I leave (so I'll miss a few lectures. By then I would have completed the tractate, so it doesn't really matter) - this new development is due to that fact that the person I was touring with may not tour at all, but do something boring and chill with his relatives.

Talking of boring, now you all know my summer plans (or at least half of them), I can proceed to less boring stuff. Here's a conversation I had on Saturday:

 *Scene opens in the park. A nice sunny day, and I'm having a picknick with a friend, and some people his family knows -also our hosts. Oh. And some guy I don't know, and his wife. in the background, there are about 15 girls, all around 16 years of age.*

Guy I don't know: *looks towards me and friend* That's so cute. You play so nicely together.
*everyone's attention is immedately drawn to friend and I, sitting on a blanket asking each other music trivia*
Guy I don't know: Ahh, look at that, so sweet. You look so gay.
Me: What's wrong with being gay?!
Guy I don't know: *blushes*
Host: They don't look gay.
Guy: Yes they do. They look SO gay together.
*friend rests head on my knee*
Guy: I'm not sure, but I THINK I heard some of those girls talking about them. "they're gay!" they said. Shame you can't get any of them now.
Friend: So? They're 12!
 

Hardy-har-har.
Of course, the tables turned after it transpired this fellow has the word "gay" following his name on his driving license.

------

Me: I'm going to buy some stuff.
A friend: Like that? In your pyjamas?
Me: Sure. Everyone else dresses like this here. It's not as if I'll stick out.
Friend: You have a point there.

Trust my luck, I bump into someone I know from back home. This girl scares the hell out of me. I don't quite know why.
Not that I care. But everytime she see's me, there's something about me which is weird. Here, it was the PJs. Let's take a look into the past....

*on a bus when I spy the afforementioned person*
Me: Uh oh!
Friend: What?
Me: Quick! Act gay! (like he doesn't, anyway)
*winks at friend, who giggles hysterically. The rest of the journey continues in gay-mode, complete with whispering and a hug or two thrown in for good measure*

A different day. In the bus station.

Friend: Let's take a seat.
Me: You always get the good seats, so whatever happens, I'm sitting next to you.


Murphy's law dictates the apparition of this girl within earshot of the words "whatever happens, I'm sitting next to you" - and the fact that my friend saw this girl got him laughing again. I couldn't resist adding the word "lover."

The last time I saw this girl was at 1:00am on saturday night, in the restraunt district of Jerusalem. Of course, I was returning with my friend.

 **

*Me, to random bloke in cowboy hat*: You're not from Texas, are you?
Bloke: No. Austrailia.
Me: oh. Sorry, it was the hat and all...
Bloke: That's ok. What's your name?
Me: err...*gives name*...and you?
Bloke: *gives name*. Where you from?
Me: London. England.
Bloke: What's your number?
Me: *alarm bells begin to ring in my head* Errr....
Bloke: This is my number. Take it down.
*I do so, and upon another demand, give over my number*

Weird, no? I should have known not to approach him from the damned hat.
Votes have been cast, and everyone agrees the above bloke is gay.
The general concensus is that if he rings me once in three days, his orientation is definate.

I should have fake numbered. Too late for that now. This, by the way, is day 3. He hasn't called yet. Mind you. My phone has been off for the past 52 hours...

 Anyway, must leave. Lectures to miss and all. Heh heh heh.
Oh. A message for the kids: Don't miss lessons.

Become a school drop-out, and miss SCHOOL!!