Once I buy the house I'll get back to full-time blogging (and responding to e-mails). Wallah. I will also go back to caring about what happens in the Missile East. Today, when I discovered that one of my balcony's melon plants had flowered, it was worth the world to me. The idea of transplanting the melon plants into my new garden elicits more happiness than if a scud were to fall on Tel Aviv. Ok, almost as much happiness.
Shopping for a house is an intense affair. I'm on my third month, and third real estate agent. Hopefully this one can deal with my incessant requests. Besides, the other two agents were women and simply did not understand my 'special needs'...
Here are the advantages of a gay (and Jewish) real estate agent:
1-He sings along when I put on a Rick Astley CD 2-He doesn't reprimand me for taking boxers out of a hamper and giving them a good sniff. 3-He winks knowingly when I ask the house-owner if I could take a second look at the laundry room ("you went to take a second sniff! You go girl!") 4-He understands my desire for a basement dungeon replete with sling and special toys 5-He shrieks along in excitement when encountering high quality hard-wood floors 6-He Oy Vey's when encountering wall-paper 7-He invites me to his dog's Bark Mitzva 8-He attacks me with limp wrists and scratches me playfully when I tell him that reform Jews are a bunch of californianesque air-heads with too much time and money on their hands.
There's a stigma attached to the off-island 450 area code, which essentially means that one isn't chic enough to live on the island of Montréal - and its 514 area code. At least that's how style-conscious homosexuals here perceive it. Don't ask me if heterosexuals think the same way.. Who cares? They're just breeding machines.
Speaking of breeding, if I do end up moving from the 514 to 450 I must try out the suburban resto pictured on the right.
Zibo! in Arabic means "His Cock!", a coincidence? hmmm.. I don't know... after all, it is located near Chomedey, a 450 neighbourhood filled to the brim with Lebanese and other Arabs.
Speaking of Arabs, I've spent over $500 in gas in June alone, just circulating from one 450 suburb to the next. Which makes me pray that Allah bless the Arabs and their oil.
May Allah keep the Statelets of the Gulf safe from Persia and her subversive dirty paws.
May Allah bless the King, Sheikhs and Sultan with long happy lives.
May Allah keep Uncle Sam's Zibo deeply implanted in their rectums.
This prayer I shall repeat for as long as I drive a gas-guzzling Jeep. For without cheap oil, I shall become one of the smelly and noisy public-transit-dungervolker queung at the newly planted bus-stop in front of my 514 home - the same one I'm so keen to leave.
Don't expect much blogging from me while I'm shopping for a house.
But I shall complain about the Sikh family that managed to wreck a near-perfect 2-story cottage with pepto-bismol-pink paint, floors covered in a film of oil and a scent of curry/helba so powerful that I had to shower as soon as I got home.
May Allah curse them and the whole Indian subcontinent. As much as I love their food, the idea of walking into a house that smells like DalerMehendi's scrotum makes me want to hurl.
To say that House-hunting in a seller's market is frustrating is the understatement of the century. (Good) houses are being picked up within a week of being listed, and I only have one month to go at my low low low interest rate. I'm freaking out!
But praise Allah, for I live in a sprawling Soddom and Gomorrah with countless opportunities to let out my frustrations on hairy asses. Not to gloat, but this week alone I found my bird a home in the nests of two dropdead gorgeous guys and got to beat the shit out of a third, a masochist, who asked to be put in a dog crate and be pissed on.
I obliged of course, because it makes me feel powerful, and this should serve as a warning to our Israeli friends: "Never put us in a position to piss on you". Because we will. and Moses himself wouldn't be able to part the golden sea in which you shall drown (Allah willing).
Now back to cock. While scouring the bowels of the Falastinian internet, I fell upon this video of a hijabbed Palestinian nurse from Gaza's Al-Shifa hospital chowing down on a Hamas-Kabab like it's her last day before an Israeli missile incinerates her and her 25 children. Here are a couple of stills and a pic of the dog-cage that I'm selling for the low low low price of $100! Naturally, I hosed it down after the last encounter. It's foldable! and doesn't rust! Wallah!
I got to meet one of my Israeli readers today.
