Me & My Headband. A Love Story

I HATE THE HEAT.
I really don't like being hot. Or sweaty. Or shvitzing. Boiling.
There was this rule in my house that I couldn't complain more then let's say ten times about the heat. Well that rule was broken about four minutes after I woke up in the summer.

I don't dislike many things but the few things I do dislike I am pretty vocal about... animals (DOGS), heat, animals, animals, heat, heat, heat, heat, dust, dirty feet, heat, animals, animals, heat, humidity, humidity... you get the point .

Basically whoever had the grand idea that I move to Givat Shmuel, home of the humidity, should be sued and have a lifetime prison sentence.
Just last week the weather was still breezy and beautiful (Covergirl. Sorry I had to). And then all of a sudden this week all hell broke loose.
Hot is an understatement.
For me anything above 75 I just shut down. 76 degrees? Game over. I hibernate.
I guess I'm the species that was created in order to show people that bears have an opposite. Your welcome.

Oh gosh it is hot. And then humidity is just beyond words. And for once when I say it's beyond words it really is. So I will stop talking about it now because it is so beyond words. BEYOND.
My friend asked me a few months ago what she should bring to Israel when she comes in the summer. I told her don't bother bringing anything. Save money on luggage and weight allowances and save money on your life, health, and gallons of deodorant. Just don't bring anything.
You know what when it's 100 degrees plus 100% humidity I think everyone will understand if you go without nothing. And whoever doesn't understand needs help.

Anyways, I'm not blogging to ramble about the hellish next six months that await me. If you want to hear more of this come to my apartment where I will be sitting on the couch staring at the air conditioning wishing I could just live in it. Yes, live in it. Somehow fit my bed and closet into the little unit. When there is a will there is a way, and there is very much a will.

Pretty much today I realized that I refuse to spend the next six months wearing baggy shirts and loose skirts. The heat may steal my capability to put on makeup (because it will just slowly glide off my face) and my ability to smile, but I am not letting this weather take away my ability to look good. I am not letting this weather to change who I am. To change my identity.
My dearest clothes and I will prevail against this nightareish weather.

So today I put on a white pencil skirt, a cute funky green shirt,  earrings, sandals, and seeing that my hair was going to become a frizzy, electrocute-esque situation I figured I might as well wear a headband so when my hair explodes it will take place behind my head and not around my face.
Anyways, this is not a fashion and hair blog (P.S.- in terms of fashion- New Yorkers run to Joe Fresh immediately. I can't stop advocating for this store. Props Canada) so I'll stop, but in a nutshell April 30, 2013 I put in more effort then usual to prove a point that I will not let the heat defeat me.
Oh and keep in mind I was wearing a headband.

Get to class and my teacher is taking attendance, he says my name, I say "yo" well actually I say "kayn" but that's besides the point.
Then he says something in Hebrew to me.
Now I think I know the language of the Hebrew man, but only when I am prepared. You know I got to mentally prepare myself before being spoken to/ listening or speaking Hebrew, but once I'm prepared I am set to go. Ha, what an overstatement.
Basically in this situation I was so not prepared. So so so not prepared. And that is an understatement.

So I say "ma" (what) and he said whatever he was saying again.
All I heard was "at"(you) and he was pointing to me.
Being the genius that I am I thought he was asking me something about my glasses since I haven't worn them in forever (I was giving my contacts another chance yet again, but sadly it's just not love at first or second or eighth sight with them).
Being the double genius that I am I say in English "oh my glasses? Ya I just started wearing them again for the board."

Things wrong with what I said
1) It's in English. Like what possessed me to think it was ok to speak in English and to speak so confidently in English is just beyond my comprehension.
It's like your in Stern and a teacher asks you something in English and you answer in Chinese like it's nobody's business. Well that was me.
2) My first time speaking in this class. This class with about 70 people just looking at me like I escaped from an institution.
Yup that's me. The English speaking, glasses wearing, institution escapee. Hi.

Having no idea what he said and seeing that the girl next to me thought this was hysterical I asked her what the heck did he ask?
I had a bowl of Cheerios right before class so for all I knew maybe I had a cheerio stuck to my face. Out of six billion people in the world I sure that situation has happened to maybe two people and I was willing to be the third. Anything to make it into the Guinness Book of World Records.
Or maybe the pimple which is casually getting really comfortable on the left side of my face just blew up. I mean it's only a matter of time really. (as I have said makeup just falls off in this weather so I'm not even bothering with cover up).

No no. Turns out he asked me if I was married.
"at hitchatant"?
Hmmmm why would I be married? Ohhh that's right because I was wearing a headband. Ya a headband the size of my pinky.

I have a field trip with this class on Thursday so I am in serious debate if I should "cover" (aka wear a headband) on Thursday and play along with this "I'm married business" or if I should be super scandalous and go uncovered.

I think I need to start thinking of a story as to how I met him. You know in case anyone asks.


I'm telling you Blair Waldorf would have a serious issue if she ever moved to Israel.

I guess I haven't worn headbands in such a long time (10th grade me would be so ashamed to read that sentence) that all of a sudden when I put something on my head I am a Mrs.
But no no. Not married. NOT MARRIED.

I have given up many things for this country. Leaving my fam jam, leaving English, leaving cranberry sauce, swifter wet mops, American garbage bags, Trader Joe's (especially their cranberry oatmeal cookies), Dunkin.
But there is one thing I am not giving up. My headbands. I will fight to the death to once again allow single ladies (cue to song and dance) to parade around in their headbands. Big headbands. Small headbands. Blue, red and purple headbands. Bows, flowers, sequined headbands.

I will make sure we can wear our headbands proudly without being asked the dreaded question "at hitchatant"?

We may not be married, according to some we may be living insignificant lives due to our lack if a significant other, but if all I have in my life at the age of 120 are my headbands I will be a happy person (note: this is total poetic license. That must be one pathetic life if that's all I have left, but poetic licence always rules.)

And now it is time for me to take off my white beautiful headband after a long day and get some beauty rest. In 90 degree weather.

Cry Me A River?

You know when you see a movie and everyone is telling you before you watch it that it is the saddest movie ever?
You will cry your heart out. Your life will change. Forever.
Pretty drastic things to say about an hour and a half movie, but I think we have all seen movies that this was the case.

You get all comfy cozy on your couch. Got some good snacks and a box of Kleenex to keep you company. Then you are watching the movie and to put it bluntly, it just isn't sad.

For some reason when the dad dies you are too worried thinking about what you are going to make for dinner.
When the boyfriend breaks up with her you are too busy have a texting war with your friend about who can find the best Buzzfeed.
Or you are legitimately watching the movie. Focused and concentrated. You are waiting for some climax or pivotal really sad point but it just isn't there.

You realize it is about to end but you don't want to be that heartless person who  just doesn't cry. It's like when a puppy gets hit by a car even if you are absolutely petrified of puppies (represent) you have to shed a tear or else you will immediately lose ten friends accusing you of having no soul. So same goes with sad movies.
Anyhoo, the movie is about to end and with every fiber of your being, every ounce of strength within you, you need to push out a tear. And a little sniffle for extra credit.
Your goal isn't to enjoy the last five minutes of the movie, but rather to find something remotely heart wrenching. For example someone steps on the grass and all of a sudden your entire  night revolves around forcing yourself to think stepping on grass is cry worthy. You know the poor piece of grass that has been stepped on and is gone forever.
Boo hoo.

Have you betrayed the movie or has the movie betrayed you?
Well last night I think I betrayed the movie.

Last night I finally got around to watch The Breakfast Club. I have wanted to see it forever.

I have a theory about myself.
If you know me well you will know when I say I have a theory that is code for "hide yo kids, hide yo wife" Lottie is about to bore us with some really ridiculous, bizarre, long, and rather conceited theory.
So for all of you survivors who don't run away at the word "theory", g-d bless you and prepare to be enlightened.
I think I was meant to be born in the 80's. Or actually mid to late 70's so then I can really appreciate the 80's.
It is my favorite decade. The fashion. The colors. The music. THE HAIR (believe me, when my hair gets brushed it just screams 80's- big, frizzy and poofy is an understatement.)
You know to be one of the Breakfast Club kids.

It may just be me, but I think there is too much empty space in this picture. How about....

...They add a sixth cluber. I do believe I fit right in (or in some drag queen competition).
(Disclaimer: This picture was taken a few years ago and is just being used to prove a point. I hope you never need to see this ever again. Apologies.)

Anyways, back to the point.
I'm watching the movie and I have heard already from numerous sources that it is a sad movie. Even the main character from Pitch Perfect who had no heart or soul cried from this movie.
So you know the drill. Grab the tissues. Take off my makeup before the movie so I don't look like some zombie from all the tears that are about to roll down my cheeks. And I am ready for this tear jerker.

The movie is playing and I mean it really is a good movie, I totally recommend it and it's pretty thought provoking actually, but I have no urge to cry. Zero.
I'm a pretty emotional person, so when I don't have the urge to cry no one should be.  (fun fact: you know that new Dove commercial with the forensics artist and the women had to describe how they see themselves etc. Yup cried all ten times I watched it.)
Ya, so no tears. I realized towards the end of the movie that it will be over in the next ten minutes so if I want to cry it's gotta be now.
I was able to force out a few tears and sniffles, but no full on cry.

I felt like I insulted humanity.
There I was watching this almost 30 year old movie and nothing.
It's official, I am the girl with no heart.
I did not find the Breakfast Club sad.
Sue me. I totally deserve it.
I have never been more ashamed.

I was trying to justify my lack of waterworks with two options
1) I was too busy channeling my inner 80's to truly appreciate the plot. I was too busy marveling at their hair and outfits and wishing and praying someone could just invent a time machine already
2) I was furiously emailing my parents asking why I couldn't be born just ten years earlier. No biggie.  I would totally be willing to go to some high school's playgroup for their students who had babies if that meant I could get a taste of this fabulous decade.
Imagine writing born January 26, 1982 instead of January 26, 1992... I think I would be a happier person.

I am a crime doer.
I am a sinner.
I have defiled and defamed.
I did not cry in The Breakfast Club.

Don't you forget about me.

Life.

I was speaking to a fellow blogger (happy birthday fellow blogger), you know, because we have a little club going. We were discussing that bloggers are people too. Everyone has a story every so often but at the end of the day we too live pretty mundane and pathetically boring lives.

However, never fear. Unfortunately I have the worst memory. Ever. Due to this sad but true fact if I want to remember something, an event, a feeling, a thought I need to write it down right then and there because in all seriousness if I don't the thought will be on the next plane to Timbuktu and I'll just never remember it.

So I figured the time has come to show off the little snippets of things that have happened to me in Israel and in America (gasp! I do leave Israel. Ahhh.)
All I got to say is thank gd I always have my handy dandy J.Crew decorated iPhone to to write these moments then and there!

So I present to you in no chronological order THE LOVELY LIST OF LOTTIE'S LIFE:

* This seems to happen to me all the time. All the time. I go to a restaurant and am browsing through the menu. I love my mom dearly but I was not raised on foods with French, unpronounceable names. In my house it didn't get much fancier then pasta (love you mommy), so when I come across something with a five word name but each word in three letters I am going to ask the waiter what it is. I was raised on unfancy food and the fact that it is good to ask questions (especially during Friday night... ahhh family joke ;-)
Anyhoo I usually just point to the word because how dare I butcher the French language (which is more likely then not). As I am pointing and asking what it is, the waiter says "oh you won't like it, don't get it."
Ok, so you don't know my name, where I live, my age, what I am doing with my life, if I have ever been in jail before but you do know I won't like "ah-due-suq-nux" (FYI- I made up that food just so you get what I'm talking about).
And then the worst is when you have to listen to what the waiter says, because he then not only says you will hate it but forbids you to eat it.
Well there goes trying to be a cultured human being. And yet another meal where I end up eating fettichini alfredo.

* I have many pet peeves. It's really pathetic. You think you are doing something normal and just going about your own business, well odds are something you are doing is bothering me. It's truly problematic, but after coming to terms that it's me with the problem not the person annoying me I have decided to control the obnoxious comments and cringing faces. Well most of the time
Well here's my number one pet peeve. Or second or third, depending on the day and my annoyance level.
You know those people that everything happens to them?
Like you are in class talking about adopted kids and of course that person is adopted.
Then your next class you are talking about something as random as zoologists, oh and golly gee she is also a trained zoologist and can talk to monkeys.
Then you go out for coffee and there is the adopted zoologist behind the counter serving you your coffee with skim milk and sugar. And of course she is the best at it, because why shouldn't she be.

Can we attempt to make the standard, average person cool again?
Like when I say "hi I am my parent's biological child, I am a student who is just trying to graduate as fast as possible and I hate animals" I want people to say WOW she's so cool and so regular. So talented.


* There are many bad jobs in the world. It sucks but you gotta do what you gotta do to make ends meet. (which by the way I used to think the phrase ended with "meat" not "meet")
But the stupidest and most pointless job is the guy who sits by the bathrooms in the Tachana collecting one shekel from all the poor people desperate to go to the bathroom.
1) we live in the 21st century. Don't we have a machine to collect the money?
2) 1 shekel?! "Yes, hi. You can not use the bathroom until you give me 20 cents." Really?!
If you're going to charge, charge! (don't get me wrong I am not asking them to raise the price, but really for one shekel what is the point?!) And if you are going to charge a shekel, well sweetie, I guess I can buy you a chewed up eraser.
3) The poor guy legit sits by the bathroom all day.
They recently put a table there I guess to make him look more legit and not like some creeper.
You know what now that I'm thinking about it he could be some money stealing creeper.
Maybe I should go check this out...


* This has got to be the most awkwardest situation I. Was. Ever. In.
Ya'll know my Home Center story? It's so last December, I know. But just in case you missed it here's the link- http://newestsabraontheblock.blogspot.co.il/2012/12/the-never-ending-wait.html and http://newestsabraontheblock.blogspot.co.il/2012/12/the-drawers-drawers.html (Yes, two links. It was that big of an ordeal. A tragic ordeal. A nightmarish ordeal. Need more synonyms? I can go on.)
Anyways, so during the two month wait for these stupid drawers (which by the way are so over priced and are ten times smaller then the picture they had of them online) I was complaining to someone I met earlier in the week how annoying this wait is and how my life is revolving around this ridiculous place that has the nerve to call themselves a business. I told him I am going to go on a customer strike, go to their headquarters and I won't leave and I won't stop bashing them even once the police come to arrest me.
Yes, it was pretty intense. But really I was mad. Mad. Mad. Mad.
Well this lovely conversation ended with...

HIM: "I'm so sorry about what's going on but..."
ME: "If you are sorry then help me make the signs we are going to hold when we go protest. I am taking them out of business. I am going to make their life suck just like they have made mine. It's over. Home Center can say their final farewells, because Team Lottie goes big or goes home and we are going big."
HIM: "well just by the way my dad runs most of the Home Center branches in Israel."

And there was a potential boyfriend (ha, really not at all, but I guess you never know) gone forever.
At least he knows I take my anger out verbally.

* I was in one of those random stores on Yafo one day. Someone came in and ask one of the employees if they had Tory Burch boots. I laughed. Tory Burch would rather die then sell her boots in this store.
Well you know Israelis, always will to make the extra buck even if that means lying, lying, lying, lying even if your pants are on fire.
This poor women walked home with "Fory Furch" boots (Fake Tory Fake Burch. Duh.)

* People don't seem to understand a basic fact we learn in kindergarten.
Roads= Cars and motorcycles
Sidewalks= Pedestrians.
The amount of times I have almost gone into cardiac arrest by a loud "HONK" while I was on the sidewalk like a good little citizen is insane.
Motorcycles are trying to compete with the pedestrian's sidewalk privileges and I won't stand for that.

* As I have in another blog post (http://newestsabraontheblock.blogspot.co.il/2013/01/the-2013-pet-peeve.html), I don't like chummus. I don't like the idea of it. I don't like the fact that Americans ditch Heinz for Sabra. And I really just don't like the taste of it.
Sorry mashed, crushed and smashed up chick peas just ain't my thing.
Fine, everyone is allowed to dislike foods. One of my brothers hates fish and I respect him for that. To each their own and as long as we can respect one and other for both our likes and our dislikes the world is good.
Well I have never been so bullied and patronized for not liking chummus. It's like a personal insult to Israelis.
You tell an Israeli you don't like chummus and their immediate response is something like "get out of my face." Gosh, I didn't insult your outfit, you can calm down.
Well it gets pretty awkward when you want a shwarma, because then you have to tell the shwarma people face to face, you don't want their most prized item in your lafa.
It takes up every fiber of my being.
Honestly, half the time they don't even ask. It's just a given apparently.
So then it's even worse once they put the chummus on the lafa.
Ways to solve this constant issue:
1) ask me what I want on my lafa before assuming
2) BAN CHUMMUS

(I think I'm liking option two best)

* Saying "Am Yisrael Chai" is really great. You know, super hunky dory and all. Well until you see it in action. Believe me, am yisrael is very much chai on an El Al plane. Chai= not shy, loud, obnoxious.
Maybe one day some smarty pants will figure out that the overheard compartment is not there to store your entire sefarim collection and your wife's ten new sheitels.

* When I went back to America (the first time) I was in my favorite place on earth, Dunkin Donuts. There was a mom and her toddler who were about to leave. The mom made her kid go up to every single person in Dunkin and say thank you and goodbye.
Either we have the newest Little Miss Manners or this mother is given her poor child a cruel and unusual punishment.

* I was in Dunkin (again. Obviously. If anyone is coming to Israel soon PLEASE by me at least two boxes of glazed and or/strawberry frosted doughnuts WITH SPRINKLES. Because sprinkles are the most important part.) and there was some talk show on TV. One of the guests on the talk show was in the middle of proposing to his girlfriend. All of a sudden I hear the woman behind me yell "NO DON'T DO IT." I thought she was getting kidnapped or robbed or something until she finished her sentence, "DON'T SAY YES!! DON'T MARRY HIM!!"
No idea why she had such strong feelings on this issue. He seemed like a perfectly fine guy to me (although he did need a haircut pretty badly)

* (Back in Israel. What a jet setter) I was in the supermarket and the cashier kept on talking to me, so with my ulpan-less, train wreck version of Hebrew I spoke back. After about two minutes of talking he asked me if I am Hungarian.
Yes, you read right. There I was with the most awful and obvious of American accents and I am being asked if I am Hungarian.
I told myself to savor the moment because that is a question I will NEVER be asked again.


OK NOW THE DEAL IS IF YOU READ THIS BLOG AND LIKED IT OF COURSE "LIKE" IT ON FACEBOOK AND SHARE IT, BUT TODAY IS A REALLY EXCITING DAY (AND NOT JUST BECAUSE IT'S EARTH DAY. YAY TREES) AND YOU GET TO DO ONE MORE THING...
GET READY.
DRUMROLL...

VOTE FOR AMARA!!!!!!!

SAMARA & AMI ARE GETTING MARRIED AND CAN WIN $10,000 (NBD)!!!!
THEY NEED YOUR VOTE!!!!!!!
ALL THE COOL KIDS ARE DOING IT

http://www.thisismyisrael.com/Contests/WG/Profile.aspx?cid=128

SUSHI ON THEM WHEN THEY WIN! (SEE, IT REALLY IS WORTH IT!!)

Hello World!

Surprise! I'm alive.
You know how holier then thou bloggers go on a little hiatus? Well according to one person, me, I have reached that status so I took a little vacation which involved NSOTB's (a cookie goes to whoever know what that stands for. This is a tricky one) cousin blog Times of Israel.
It's true- over here, over there, I am truly everywhere (along with Hashem).

Oh, and by the way for today this blog is called The Burnt Peeling Bright Red Tomato On The Rechov.
Burnt peeling red tomato is pretty self explanatory. When you are me and go to the beach without bathing in sunscreen first this is usually what happens.
Rechov is to remind the world that this is an aliyah blog so I guess by law I have to use a Hebrew word somewhere in the name.
It has a good ring to it, no?

Hi World,
Yes I did get burnt. But as you can tell by my face I was wearing fabulous 50's style cat eye sunnies when the deed went down. Don't you love the white and red contrast. It brings out my eyes right?
Don't do drugs and stay in school.
Love, Lottie

Best is how I only got burned on one side of my legs. It looks like color war is going down. Deep red vs ultra pale white. I'll let you know the results later.

Ok, but the real reason I decided it's time to revive this blog from the dead is I have decided at the mere age of 21 and two and a half months that it is finally time to get my drivers license.
Keyword: "get". I used the word "get" as opposed to "convert" because I don't have an American license to convert.
Hide yo kids, hide yo wife. It's true I am about five years behind the driving schedule.
The reason for doing this was not because GD FORBID I was too lazy. It was because I am an environmentalist . Obviously. Tomorrow I go vegan as well and will begin planting my organic farm.
Ha, LIES! Big time. Biggest time.
But really, my legs were made for walking, but after walking all day everyday (you know because mommy and daddy were too busy to pick up their little treasure from her friend's house) they are slowly giving way. I practically hear my left leg saying "we are strong enough. Down with the walking. Down with the walking."

Anyhoo so after hearing really reassuring information about obtaining an Israeli license, such as "it is hell" or "sweetie, you will be on suicide watch while you are in the decade long process" I decided it's go time.

I am strong.
I am invincible.
I am woman.
(yes, that was a Sex And The City 2 shoutout.)

So Ronit and I went to get our eye exams today. And you all thought the picture you were liking on Facebook was some sort of certificate that we passed a road test. Well it wasn't. It was a certificate that we know our numbers and colors. So thank you kindergarten teachers.
I thank all the 34 (and counting?) "likers" for congratulating me on my ability to see. Maybe tomorrow I will get a hearing test and post those results as well. It is quite a confidence booster to have friends who care so much about my health.

Behold! The two 20/20 see-ers (THANK GD FOR GLASSES/CONTACTS!!)

Well to my dismay nothing too exciting happened at the eye exam. No ceilings falling in, bizarre language barriers, odds comments... twas pretty standard.

For once in my life I was a lucky bean! 

BUT I would never end just like that. That's boring. And pointless. And basically a bad first post back.

 So here's a little snippet of what happened to me the other day. 

I was on a bus on my way back from Jerusalem and a woman sat next to me who (choose one of the three options below)

a) just frolicked in a garlic field

b) wear Chanel Number 5 perfume along with garlic powder. Heard it was the new trend.

c) just bought a garlic factory

Unfortunately I didn't have the guts to ask her which of the above options were correct so we shall forever be in wonder... 

So this was a fun first post back eh

I'll keep you POSTED with more to come (pun intended.)