Saturday, May 23, 2015

Still Waiting For Directions

I bet these folks can help me.

The other day, I asked the social media universe, "Can you take me to Funkytown?" Sadly, no one offered up directions. Disappointing. But then, what isn't? So the SJG had to take matters into my own little hands. Like so many things in life, I had figure out how to get there myself. And I did, because I'm a doer. Turns out, Funky Town, for those interested, is located on Hollywood Boulevard, in the vicinity of the Pantages Theater, where "Motown: The Musical" currently lives. This afternoon, along with my favorite troublemakers, brother John and his good friend Erlin, I'll get about as funky as the SJG can get while seated. I'll pretend I'm actually seeing The Jackson Five. I'll make believe it's Diana Ross up there, and Smokey Robinson and Marvin Gaye. Chances are excellent I'll sing along with my favorite songs, till someone suggests I shut the eff up, or management intervenes. Just kidding. I'll be good. Always a challenge, but I'll give it my best rim shot.

Friday, May 22, 2015

Tour The SJG's Sherman Oaks

Some of the lucky participants

Congregation Oy Gevalt is offering a brief but illuminating tour of the Short Jewish Gal's Sherman Oaks today only. So corral your friends, neighbors, frenemies and estranged relatives to join in this exciting event, or you'll regret it for the rest of your life and after-life. The bus will depart Gelson's at 10 a.m. and return at 10:30 a.m. Fine. It's a very short tour. But look what's included: Temple Oy Gevalt, a historic Sherman Oaks landmark where the SJG's sons were bribed into getting Bar Mitzvahed; soon-to-close Solley's Deli, where the SJG has bought chicken soup and passed it off as her own more than she cares to admit; the Westfield Mall, where the SJG often buys gifts for other people, because she's a giver, and of course, Gelson's, where you can choose your own nice snack from one of the aisles the SJG roams twice, if not, thrice-weekly. The cost is $40 per person for Congregation Oy Gevalt members, $45 per guests and $15 for students age 18 and under. Oh, and did we mention, the SJG is your tour guide. If you pass up an opportunity like this, there's something seriously wrong with you.

Thursday, May 21, 2015

Oh, The Places They'll Go (Without You)

And he's off...

The youngest has landed, and all I can say, not surprisingly, is thank God. (What, me worry? Oh, a little.) He's wanted to go to the land of David Beckham and Wayne Rooney since he first laid eyes on a soccer ball. This is a dream for him, a big trip, a huge step out of his comfort zone. Let's just say he wasn't President of the Sherman Oaks Adventure Club. He's more of a stay-at-home, listen to music and write pithy rap lyrics type of emerging adult. But listen, all he needed was a giant shove out the door and look at him now. After London comes Paris, Amsterdam, Berlin, Prague and Rome. I'll just sit here in the dark and wait for updates. I'll be fine. Really.

Beer in Thailand? Why not.

Meanwhile, on another side of the world, the eldest sips beer in Thailand, sleeps in an eco hut, snorkels, motor bikes and protects his girlfriend from vicious jungle monkeys that want to steal her phone. He's been chasing adventure since he arrived on the planet. Two seconds after he first walked he was ready to run. I've been trying to catch up with him ever since.  

I couldn't be prouder of them both. 

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

The Best of Dave

 
Dave's last show tonight: don't even go there. It's too much. It's too soon. I'm not ready, are you? I'm sitting shiva over his departure. I love him for his wit and snark, his goofy smile and intelligence, his sharp observations and self-deprecation and above all, his honesty. Thanks, Dave. Thanks for all the laughs and all the fun. There will never be another Dave. You heard me. Never. 







Tuesday, May 19, 2015

For The Anxiety Prone

Dear SJG,
The American Association of Anxiety-Prone Bloggers (AAAPB) wants to reassure you that your treasured and adored offspring are just fine, whether you believe it or not. We know, we know. Who would you be if you weren't worrying about something real or imaginary? You'd be someone entirely different, that's who. While one son island-hops in Thailand, and the other prepares to depart for Ye Olde UK, all you can do is fret yourself stupid. We at AAAPB would like to offer a little unsolicited advice: Stop That. Sons off on adventure? This is a good thing. Or so we hear. We at AAAPB are a little obsessed with our own people, too. We wish they'd just stay home and never go anywhere. Would that be so terrible? It's a scary world out there.

Be well, or a close approximation,
Your friends at AAAPB

Monday, May 18, 2015

It's The Real Thing

Just go with it, man.

(Sherman Oaks) News crews from around the globe gathered on the semi-brown, drought-stricken front lawn of the Short Jewish Gal, to await her SPOILER-FREE reaction to the series finale of "Mad Men." During the commercials, she popped out with hot slices of kugel for the reporters (What a mensch, right? Who does that?) and a range of sentiments: "Aww." "Sob." "Really?!" "Roger!" "Go, Joan!" "Peggy!" "Really?!" "You have a call from..." "Sob." After the finale, the SJG invited the reporters inside for an ice cold Coke, a group meditation and sing-along. Later, she put love beads around their necks and shoved them out the door, with a final message. "Peace out, bitches!"

I'd like to buy the world a coke. But put it on my expense account. 

Sunday, May 17, 2015

The Zen of Don Draper


When last we saw Don Draper,  he was sitting on a bus bench in the middle of nowhere, with a Sears bag. Life had kicked the sh*t out of him yet again, and the expression on his face said, "Yeah, I deserved it." Depressing? Exhilarating? Confusing? Oh, hell yes. But then, Don Draper has always been the most confounding of TV characters. Just when we thought Don was on an upswing, he eff'd it all up, just like before. We kept watching, anyway. That's the weird pull of "Mad Men." Tonight the series finale will tell us where he's going next. Or not. Wherever he's headed, nowhere or somewhere or just a new purgatory of his own making, it feels like a do-over. He's falling off that high-rise, metaphorically. Maybe he'll take back his old name, Dick Whitman, or keep his current name, or find a whole new name that suits this suit-less, hat-less version of the most mystifying, post-Madison Avenue man to ever grace TV. I will miss him, deeply. Here are some of his best quotes:

 True that.

I'm on it.

Who doesn't?

Exactly.