Black Limousines

I remember the last time I rode in a limousine. In the late 1970s when I was working at that cool NYC record company and we went to the premier of the Ramones movie Rock 'n Roll High School. So here I was crying in my office with my co-workers because the banks were bugging me about this bouncing and that bouncing and "when will you come in and pay us. We did so much work on your behalf changing the dates you wanted the loan to come out of your account..blah, blah, blah." The Tel Aviv lady was furious at me, even though a few days ago she was like "I'm doing everything I can to help you." Help me? The top thieves in Israel are going to help me. Yeah right.

My co-workers were supportive. One gave me some chocolate. My bosses left me alone and soon we were about to have lunch at a fancy Jerusalem French restaurant, courtesy of the company - we have a company lunch every one a half years or so. I'm buying milk and bread for my family on evil credit from the local grocery store, and am now going to have a kick-ass meal at one of Jerusalem's most expensive restaurants. If that wasn't hysterical enough, the only limo driver I know in Jerusalem, pulls up in front of our place and offers to take us to this restaurant. So here I am. Red eyed from crying and wallowing in self-pity, riding in the back seat of this "stretch" (by Israeli standards) limousine. I check the back pockets in the car for any spare change that may have been inadvertently left behind by careless millionaires or billionaires. No such luck. Millionaires are super careful with their money. We get out in the pouring rain and walk into the busy restaurant. They ordered four bottles of wine and I probably drank half.

My Criminal Daughter won some kind of singing competition and was among the 12 chosen out of a few hundred in Jerusalem. There's a French movie playing at the Jerusalem Theater called "La Choralle" or something similar about a tough boys' school, where this wonderful teacher comes in and teaches the rough boys music and singing. He believes in them and they have this wonderful rapport. I thought it similar to my daughter's situation. My boss had seen the movie last night. I told him about my daughter and he wanted me to go see the movie tonight - He asked - Do you need money?

Shit, I always need money. I began laughing and crying at the same time. He dished out some $ to give to me to see this movie, plus grab a taxi home. I was so touched.

I shut off the phone when unemployed Caveman Hubby called me several times to bug me about dinner.

"I'm working very very late. Plus, I'm looking for a second job." I huffed to him -and promptly shut the phone off.

I walked in the pouring rain with my friend from work - Bat-El, (her name translates to Daughter of God) to the theater. We sat in the theater soaking wet and cried throughout the movie.

When my taxi came to get me, and I told him what movie I saw he laughed and said - this is what you do? You walk all over Jerusalem in the pouring rain and cry through a movie?

That man will never understand women.