strippers and ambassadors

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Things slowed down today. It was too windy for the puffin– or whale-watching tours, which were canceled. The people in the office did not appreciate our impromptu puffin impersonations, nor our elaborate pretend-the-stuffed-puffin-is-real act. I thought it was inspired. (Note: Y. has identified puffins as mammals. This is moronic.)

So we went to the local pool, where I rented the bathing suit I’ve always dreamed of owning but would never have the cajones to wear anywhere but here. Let’s just say those Icelanders were able to tell I was Jewish by an appendage other than my nose. It was cute and local, (i.e., the pool, not my bathing suits or contents), with a heated pool, and three hot tubs at various degrees. We challenged some local kids (all of whom, btw, look downright cherubic) to a game of Chicken on their gigantic hot dog-shaped flotation device. I don’t think they understood the rules, and kind of just rolled around. But social hierarchy traverses cultures: they instinctively knew to pick on Y.

Tsheila, that exotic dancer who’s supposed to go bowling with us, asked me to call her back later tonight, after she’s done work, abouts 2am. Bowling alleys, as far as I know, are not open at 2am. This, along with the fact that I do not live in a sitcom,  has caused me to suspect that she is expecting a customer, not a bowling partner. (Ain’t I quick?) I might pass on this one.

BUT — we passed by the Canadian embassy today, just as it was closing, and made an inquiry re a meeting with the ambassador. And he, the honorable Mr. Alan Bones (scroll down for bio), is available anytime tomorrow before noon. I’m boning up on all the important Iceland-Canada issues, which consist mostly of protecting various flora.

Written by menachemkaiser

20 August at 17:45

Posted in rants

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