From Zvia, an avid Zabajnikit…
While visiting Israel last month I wanted to buy jeans, so I went to check out Castro. Immediately a worker was on top of me, throwing “jeansim” at me and saying, “you need this pair and this pair.” I was like, “lookie here, it’s JEANS and I’m not interested.” That obviously didn’t deter her so she raised my shirt to see my waist and started guessing my size. I told her what it was but she didn’t believe me, so she called over her stupid friend, who told me I’m not the size I said I am. They know. They also thought I’m “yotzet min ha’klal” (out of the ordinary) with the “jeansim” on and how its “sof ha’derech.”
One of the girls called Gad over, who talked to me about how my body is perfect for the jeansim and how he wasn’t going to let me leave without them. Then all three started talking about how I actually do have an ass and I’m not just some random skinny girl. They actually were tapping me on the shoulder going, “yeee you go girl” and then made me try on the other pair and do the whole thing again.
The worker told me that I must buy both pairs and that I shouldn’t worry because she’d split up the payments on different credit cards for me, as if that meant I’d save money. The whole time I was thinking, “What the hell? What do these crazy Israelis do? Does that make it seem like its less money? And why would that make me, a rich American, want to buy the jeansim more?”
After all, it turns out the jeansim were nice and just what I wanted so I bought them… and meanwhile they started pushing “t-shirtim” on me. I basically ran out of there without my shoes on as if I was escaping from a bunch of wild animals with Bamba on their breath.
Oh, and did I mention that the whole time they kept comparing their fat asses to mine and saying that, although they wear the jeansim, they don’t look as good on them as they do on me. It was sort of like a group ass-therapy session for them and all I wanted was some jeansim.
Am Yisrael Bye!