This week I paid a visit (actually, I didn't pay at all, so yay!) to my good friends at Orange. I had come home on Tuesday and attempted to charge my phone. You know, how one minute it has all its battery bars, and then two minutes later it's hanging on for dear life and you're down to your last half bar? So I put the charger into the charge-y hole. Only it wouldn't go. I then did what any normal, cell-phone using person would do. I tried harder. I really jammed that charger in there, thinking it could just crush whatever obstacle was in its way. Kind of like The Hulk. Unfortunately, that did not work. So I put on my technician cap (it's pink) and looked inside the hole. Yup, there was definitely something blocking.
So I did what any normal, cell-phone using person would do. I took a "shipud" (those long sticks you use for shish-kebabs. Only I never make shish-kebabs and I can't think why the hell I bought those things in the first place, except maybe I wanted the children to inflict bodily harm on each other with them.) Where was I? Oh yes, the shipud. I took the pointy end and tried to manually remove the blockage. The result? The tip of the shipud broke off into the charge-y hole.
Luckily, with the back of my earring, I was able to remove the shipud tip. I tried, once again, to push the charger in, hoping that maybe while removing the shipud, I magically removed the Mystery Blockage. But to no avail. At this point, I think I've also damaged the charger.
I decide to do what any normal, cell-phone using person would do. Wait for Donny to come home.
When he arrived home, he put on his technician cap (it's blue) and took the phone apart to the best of his ability. But the charge-y hole was behind an un-removable metal cage. He then got out his weapons of choice - nail scissors and a flashlight. At this point, the cell phone was practically screaming at us to stop. Our amateurish efforts were sort of the cell phone equivalent of performing an amputation in the field without anesthesia. ("Here, bite down on this shipud.") Of course, the phone had little battery power left, so the screaming was more of a whispery whimper.
Nothing left to do but trek back to Orange. Luckily there was a short line, so they took me pretty quickly. I do love Orange. The nice technician lady took my phone and charger, said, yep, there was definitely a problem, gave me a "chaloofi" (replacement phone) to use until they could fix my phone, and sent me on my way. Needless to say, she put the SIM card into the chaloofi so I have all the phone numbers, etc. Any other way would be so primitive.
And since I had already schlepped all the way out to Yishpru, well, of course I just had to stop and visit my friends Ben and Jerry. That's right, there is now our very own B&J scoop shop, right here in Modiin (despite those who claim that Yishpru is not considered part of Modiin.)
They've got all the classic flavors, just translitered into Hebrew. ( צ'נק' מנקי was my favorite one.)
I got a cone, which luckily came with 2 scoops, because I was having a hard time deciding between בצק עוגיות (ok, that one is just a translation) and פדג' בראוניז . So I got both.
(There are few things as stereotypical as a fat pregnant lady waddling around with a double-scoop ice cream cone. What, you say, I don't look so "fat?" Thank you, you're ever so kind, but my children would beg to differ. Hence the song they sing about me: "Hee shmaynah, hee shmaynah, hee m'od m'od kedoshah." Translation: She is fat, she is fat, she is very, very holy. Not sure where the holy part comes in; I think because "shmaynah" and "kedoshah" rhyme nicely. Although, they sing it about Donny, too: Hu shamen, hu shamen, hu m'od m'od kadosh. And it doesn't rhyme. The reasoning behind this song is truly beyond me.)
Update: Today I picked up my phone. Hakol b'seder, and I paid nothing! Unfortunately, no time for a second trip to B&J. Not to worry, dear readers, I will be back. Oh yes. I will be back.
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