For anyone in a relationship who thinks the grass is greener, think again. For those males who wonder if women are really as analytical as we appear in the movies, here is your answer....
Me: Are you excited for your blind date? We still don't know what he looks like? is he jewish? [this is vital information for Deb, being a Jewess herself]
Deb: He's a jew
Me: ok, so you're already seeing him as marriage material
Deb: No idea what he looks like
Deb: But we talked on the phone
Me: i could never go on a date not knowing what someone looks like. I'm far too shallow. you are a brave little toaster, deb
Deb: And at the end of our phone chat he was like
I'm so glad we talked
Now I'm really excited for tuesday
Deb: And I called him a jerk and he laughed
So he gets me
Me: i like how you opened with an insult
it's a good way to separate the wheat from the LOSERS
Deb: Anyway now I'm excited too
I hope it works out
Cause I've already pictured out vineyard wedding.
Me: Of course.
I mean who hasn't envisioned a vineyard wedding with a person they haven't met solely based on a seemingly insignificant interaction?
For more Deb convos, all of which are much, much funnier than above, holla at her blog.
Showing posts with label Jewesses. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jewesses. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Choosing the Chosen People
First of all, I must apologize for my lack of bloggery as of late. I was in Detroit, Michigan, visiting my grandmother—or, as I like to call her, “G-Unit.” She turned 92 on June 9, and we all gathered to celebrate the good times.
I absolutely cannot believe I know someone who is 92. What I love most about her is that when she was 86 she dated a 68 year old—holla at a geriatric playa! She had a man even when I didn’t, and all she had to do was put in her dentures (efferdent and forget it)!
Anyway, as I returned to the world of young people and readjusted to procrastinating in the workplace yesterday, I realized something about myself:
Sometimes I wish I was a Jewess.
Perhaps it was my education at a predominantly Jewish private school that had me going to so many Bar Mitzvahs that I can now recite Hebrew prayers in my sleep.
Perhaps it’s because, like Sojourner, the Jews have a history of oppression.
Perhaps it’s my love of brisket and the fact that I’m a challahback girl.
Or perhaps it’s because they run Hollywood.
But I think it’s primarily because they are excellent matchmakers.
Think about it: J-date was the first internet dating site to really take off, and it totally set the bar for match.com, eharmony.com, and others. Several of my main Jewesses have found significant others on this site, and they never seem to have a shortage of dating opportunities. Meanwhile, I’m on match.com wondering why in god’s name there’s no screening process—or at least a spell-check option—for these fools who wink at me.
(Oh, question: can my computer get an STD from a sleazy guy winking at me?)
One of my wives is a Jewess, and she’s got a different j-date every night of the week! She just cannot pass over those matzoh balls, no matter how hard she tries. I mean, no wonder they’re the “chosen people”—they’re only choosing each other!
She recently decided to take a break from j-date--you know, to let her internet bedsheets cool-- but it seems she can’t escape the matchmaking of her brethren. I simply died laughing when she forwarded an email sent to her by an uncle:
To: Jewess11@jew.org; Jewster@jew.org
From: YourUncle@joiningthejews.com
Subject: Introduction
Consider this e-mail a modern introduction. We think you guys should meet. Your aunt and I connected with Jewster's parents on our hiking trip in Croatia, and we couldn't resist the chance to exchange contact particulars.
Besides both being attractive, the right age and culturally linked, you have a name in common (Jewster's last name is Levinson, Jewess' middle name is Levinson) and the same e-mail provider! What more is there? What do you have to lose?
Your e-mails are above, plus Jewster's phone is (xxx) xxx-xxxx and Jewess' is (xxx) xxx-xxxx (at least, that's the last one we have for her).
Go for it, please…and…ENJOY,
Uncle (and Aunt, too)
Um, how amazing is that?! Other than changing the names (to protect the Jewish), everything in that email is as it originally appeared. Do you know what Sojourner would give to have trusted family members set her up with well-to-do young chaps who share my email provider?????-- I mean, the uncle is right: WHAT MORE IS THERE?!
NOTHING.
He outlines the key points to a happy union in one sentence: they are both attractive, the right age, and culturally linked. Um, cut and print—this one’s winning an Oscar for BEST ROMANTIC COMEDY! Hell, I don’t even need to be culturally linked or the right age—just be attractive, and the rest will work itself out.
Although this email was sent to me in an attempt to prove the silliness/borderline madness of her family members, I am quite jealous, and am now thinking of getting me a Yentle—someone to grill me up some Hebrew National hot dogs, if you know what I mean (and I think you do).
Right now, the closest thing I’ve got is my 92-year-old G-Unit, who said she wanted to set me up with Bob, the brother of my uncle’s wife (who happens to be white)—he’s 40, divorced, and moderately obese. I’m not exactly sure why she thought that would be a good idea—but I like where her head’s at.
I absolutely cannot believe I know someone who is 92. What I love most about her is that when she was 86 she dated a 68 year old—holla at a geriatric playa! She had a man even when I didn’t, and all she had to do was put in her dentures (efferdent and forget it)!
Anyway, as I returned to the world of young people and readjusted to procrastinating in the workplace yesterday, I realized something about myself:
Sometimes I wish I was a Jewess.
Perhaps it was my education at a predominantly Jewish private school that had me going to so many Bar Mitzvahs that I can now recite Hebrew prayers in my sleep.
Perhaps it’s because, like Sojourner, the Jews have a history of oppression.
Perhaps it’s my love of brisket and the fact that I’m a challahback girl.
Or perhaps it’s because they run Hollywood.
But I think it’s primarily because they are excellent matchmakers.
Think about it: J-date was the first internet dating site to really take off, and it totally set the bar for match.com, eharmony.com, and others. Several of my main Jewesses have found significant others on this site, and they never seem to have a shortage of dating opportunities. Meanwhile, I’m on match.com wondering why in god’s name there’s no screening process—or at least a spell-check option—for these fools who wink at me.
(Oh, question: can my computer get an STD from a sleazy guy winking at me?)
One of my wives is a Jewess, and she’s got a different j-date every night of the week! She just cannot pass over those matzoh balls, no matter how hard she tries. I mean, no wonder they’re the “chosen people”—they’re only choosing each other!
She recently decided to take a break from j-date--you know, to let her internet bedsheets cool-- but it seems she can’t escape the matchmaking of her brethren. I simply died laughing when she forwarded an email sent to her by an uncle:
To: Jewess11@jew.org; Jewster@jew.org
From: YourUncle@joiningthejews.com
Subject: Introduction
Consider this e-mail a modern introduction. We think you guys should meet. Your aunt and I connected with Jewster's parents on our hiking trip in Croatia, and we couldn't resist the chance to exchange contact particulars.
Besides both being attractive, the right age and culturally linked, you have a name in common (Jewster's last name is Levinson, Jewess' middle name is Levinson) and the same e-mail provider! What more is there? What do you have to lose?
Your e-mails are above, plus Jewster's phone is (xxx) xxx-xxxx and Jewess' is (xxx) xxx-xxxx (at least, that's the last one we have for her).
Go for it, please…and…ENJOY,
Uncle (and Aunt, too)
Um, how amazing is that?! Other than changing the names (to protect the Jewish), everything in that email is as it originally appeared. Do you know what Sojourner would give to have trusted family members set her up with well-to-do young chaps who share my email provider?????-- I mean, the uncle is right: WHAT MORE IS THERE?!
NOTHING.
He outlines the key points to a happy union in one sentence: they are both attractive, the right age, and culturally linked. Um, cut and print—this one’s winning an Oscar for BEST ROMANTIC COMEDY! Hell, I don’t even need to be culturally linked or the right age—just be attractive, and the rest will work itself out.
Although this email was sent to me in an attempt to prove the silliness/borderline madness of her family members, I am quite jealous, and am now thinking of getting me a Yentle—someone to grill me up some Hebrew National hot dogs, if you know what I mean (and I think you do).
Right now, the closest thing I’ve got is my 92-year-old G-Unit, who said she wanted to set me up with Bob, the brother of my uncle’s wife (who happens to be white)—he’s 40, divorced, and moderately obese. I’m not exactly sure why she thought that would be a good idea—but I like where her head’s at.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Office Ex
There is this guy who works in my office who looks just like my ex boyfriend. I kid you not. Now, joining the ranks of my Office Wife and Office Husband, I now have my Office Ex. It’s totally freaking me out.
For those of you who don’t know (and for those of you who just love the hilarity of it all), my ex boyfriend is an Israeli, vegan, investment banker, who worked about 90 hours a week and did his study-abroad semester at a historically black college.
I kid you not.
How do randoms find me?!
We met at the birthday party of Edith Zimmerman, back in June of 2006…I should have known those two 6s were a sign….
He met me at a delicate time, when I was lost and confused, just fresh back from my tour with THE DEAF (where no one can hear you scream….), and well know how I love a man-cuddle during hard times. He was definitely sweet, and tried very hard to make the love work, but…
He was an Israeli, VEGAN, INVESTMENT BANKER, who WORKED 90 HOURS A WEEK.
Do you see the problems?
In addition to those, his parents were not happy with him dating a blacktress, and wouldn’t acknowledge I was even in his life.
Oh yeah, and he was pro-life.
Nothing’s more awkward than a guy you’ve been dating 2 months telling you he’d be ready to have a child with you if you were to get pregnant.
Oh, wait, actually, I CAN think of something more awkward: him telling you, “I’ve been thinking about whether or not I would love a black child…”
Um, paging Barack Obama!!! So, let’s get this straight: he’s telling me that not only must I bear his seed, but he won’t love it even if it does pop out of the ol’ babymaker!
In the words of Whitney Houston: HELL TO THE NO!!!
As you can see, this is still an emotional situation for me. I look back on the relationship with conflicting emotions and wonder if he is now in the arms of a vegetarian Jewess, who makes him latkes and likes to do spreadsheets. I sometimes wake up in a cold sweat, thinking of the unloved mocha baby that would have resulted from our union….
And then I see the Office Ex, walking to the bathroom.
Honestly, the first time I saw him, my stomach leapt in my throat until sanity came back to me. “Get a hold of yourself, Sojourner,” I said. “There’s no way a rich banker boy would suddenly decide to work for business-to-business magazines….Besides, Office Ex is a bit more Jewey, and shorter than Schmomer Schmohen.**”
While I know it’s not him, this doppelganger haunts me, and sometimes makes me throw up in my mouth a little.
I haven’t been able to discuss this with my office spouses (you know how hard it is for your mate to think of you with other people—imagine if that person were always around!!!), so I’ve decided to share this with you, fair readers.
Do you think I should talk to him? Walk up to his desk and say “Shalom!” Ask him his feelings on a woman’s right to choose?
Or should I just turn the other way when I see him—as I do now?
**Names have been changed to protect the Jewish.
For those of you who don’t know (and for those of you who just love the hilarity of it all), my ex boyfriend is an Israeli, vegan, investment banker, who worked about 90 hours a week and did his study-abroad semester at a historically black college.
I kid you not.
How do randoms find me?!
We met at the birthday party of Edith Zimmerman, back in June of 2006…I should have known those two 6s were a sign….
He met me at a delicate time, when I was lost and confused, just fresh back from my tour with THE DEAF (where no one can hear you scream….), and well know how I love a man-cuddle during hard times. He was definitely sweet, and tried very hard to make the love work, but…
He was an Israeli, VEGAN, INVESTMENT BANKER, who WORKED 90 HOURS A WEEK.
Do you see the problems?
In addition to those, his parents were not happy with him dating a blacktress, and wouldn’t acknowledge I was even in his life.
Oh yeah, and he was pro-life.
Nothing’s more awkward than a guy you’ve been dating 2 months telling you he’d be ready to have a child with you if you were to get pregnant.
Oh, wait, actually, I CAN think of something more awkward: him telling you, “I’ve been thinking about whether or not I would love a black child…”
Um, paging Barack Obama!!! So, let’s get this straight: he’s telling me that not only must I bear his seed, but he won’t love it even if it does pop out of the ol’ babymaker!
In the words of Whitney Houston: HELL TO THE NO!!!
As you can see, this is still an emotional situation for me. I look back on the relationship with conflicting emotions and wonder if he is now in the arms of a vegetarian Jewess, who makes him latkes and likes to do spreadsheets. I sometimes wake up in a cold sweat, thinking of the unloved mocha baby that would have resulted from our union….
And then I see the Office Ex, walking to the bathroom.
Honestly, the first time I saw him, my stomach leapt in my throat until sanity came back to me. “Get a hold of yourself, Sojourner,” I said. “There’s no way a rich banker boy would suddenly decide to work for business-to-business magazines….Besides, Office Ex is a bit more Jewey, and shorter than Schmomer Schmohen.**”
While I know it’s not him, this doppelganger haunts me, and sometimes makes me throw up in my mouth a little.
I haven’t been able to discuss this with my office spouses (you know how hard it is for your mate to think of you with other people—imagine if that person were always around!!!), so I’ve decided to share this with you, fair readers.
Do you think I should talk to him? Walk up to his desk and say “Shalom!” Ask him his feelings on a woman’s right to choose?
Or should I just turn the other way when I see him—as I do now?
**Names have been changed to protect the Jewish.
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