Went to the supermarke the other day. Needed some turkey breast. I know how to say turkey now. It’s “hodu.”
So I order two kilograms. B/c it’s the metric system here, and they won’t know what you’re talking about if you ask for a pound. The woman asks me “schteim kilogram?” (two kg)? “Yeah,” I tell her. “Schteim kg.” She’s not sure of my answer and gets her colleague, who speaks English. She asks me in English, and I answer the same, “Yeah, two kilograms.” She also tells me it’s on sale, so they’ll give me like 3 kg for the price of 2 kg. “Fine,” I say.
And I watch the first lady slice it up.
And slice, and slice, and slice some more…
…….and wrap that bunch up in paper, then plastic wrap, and then slice some more, and more and more, and slice and slice and more and more…
I give it a little more time, b/c the other lady said I’d be getting extra…but something’s not right. Finally I have to say, “Ahtzohr, bvakihshah!” (“stop, please”) I tell her that’s enough, even though she tries to explain she’s not done yet.
That’s when I remember a kg is double the amount of a pound. (A km is less than a mile, but a kg is more than a pound. Screwy, I know.) So, I should have asked for 1/2 kg, but I asked for 2 – which is the same as asking for FOUR pounds of turkey breast. I’m a nice guy, so I wasn’t gonna waste it, so I bought it all. Like $25 worth. Fuck! Turkey for breakfast, turkey for lunch, think I’ll have a snack of turkey, want some?, turkey for dinner….
Stoopid metric system.
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