Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Sidewalk Jewish Geography

Put two gals together, neighbors meeting for the first time - thanks to their labs sniffing each other's butts -- and you've got yourself a game of Sidewalk Jewish Geography:
"Your daughters went to Ranch Dressing Drive? My sons went to Ranch Dressing Drive."
"How old are your sons?"
"Twenty-two and 26."
"Mine are 22 and 28."
"I bet the 22 year olds are friends on Facebook."
"Does your  youngest know Shlomo Weinberg?"
"Does he know him? Shlomo is his best friend since pre-school."
"Get out of here. Which pre-school?"
"Temple Beth Kreplach."
"Both my daughters were bat mitvahed at Beth Kreplach."
"Both my sons were bar mitvahed there, too."
"So you must know Amy Plotkin?"
"I haven't seen her since last Rosh Hashanah."
"She's my second cousin."
"Nice lady. How is she?"
"She finally divorced that idiot she was married to."
"She's better off without him."
"If you know Amy, you probably know Susan B. Seltzer."
"I just ran into her at Gelson's. She's claiming whiplash."
"That explains why she wore the neck brace to the Mahjong Tournament."
"I didn't think my cart was going that fast."
"She tends to overreact."
"Who doesn't?"
"Medication helps."
"So much! Oh, by any chance, did your youngest go to high school with Brian Schmendelbaum?"
"Of course. They dated for two weeks."
"So you heard what happened to him?"
"No, what?"
"He converted."
"He's no longer Jewish?"
"He's no longer a Bruin. He's in grad school at USC. He's a Trojan."
"It happens. I'm in a mixed marriage, myself. I'm a Bruin. My husband's a Trojan."
"What happens when they play each other?"
"I leave town."
"Smart. You want a ride to services Friday night?"
"No, thanks. We let our membership lapse at Beth Kreplach, after the girls got confirmed."
"Listen, I'm the only one in my family who still goes. I've got to atone for everyone. It's a lot of pressure."
"Hey, by any chance are you related to the Minskies?"
"The Minskies, no.  I'm related to fewer and fewer people."
"What about your dog?"
"He's like a son to me."
"He looks a lot like Dexter, the Minskie's lab. I thought maybe they were from the same litter."
"Dusty's from the Bernstein litter, 12 years ago."
"Get out of here. Barkley's from the Bernstein litter, five years ago."
"So Dusty and Barkley are cousins. How crazy is that?"
"Well, I've got a kugel in the oven. Stop by some time. I live one street over, on SJG Lane."
"Maybe I will."
"Happy New Year, neighbor."
"To you, too."

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Lost in the Cloud

Dear Tech Support,
Like a dummy, I got a little distracted and forgot to backup my perspective and now I've lost it in the Cloud. Without this file, I tend to dwell in a dark place. It's Doom & Gloomsville. It's Why Don't They Choose Someone Else for a Change? Without this file, there's no silver lining. Everything just looks nebulous. Please help me retrieve my lost perspective. There's a nice kugel in it for you.

Dear SJG,
You haven't lost your perspective. It's just stuck in the Cloud. Getting it back is easy-peasy. Simply click Backup Settings and select the Tab called File Selection. Then select "Manual Selection." Up pops a window to your soul, where you'll be able to see what files have already been selected, with or without your permission. All those names you can't remember? They're in there. All those brain cells you took for granted? You can get those back, too. Simply click Retrieve, followed by OK, followed by Pretty Please. Then simply go back to the Backup App and see if your Perspective File has magically reappeared. If it hasn't, simply click I Give Up and create a new file we can lose for you at a later date.
Good luck,
Tech Support

Monday, September 29, 2014

There's No Such Thing As Free Coffee

(Sherman Oaks) In honor of National Coffee Day, the SJG will be serving "free" coffee this morning in her Tuscan-style estate. Normally, she charges guests a dollar per cup of java. "Someone has to help pay for the patio re-do," the SJG said in an exclusive interview with The Daily Kvetch. But today, she stressed, if you show up at her door in search of caffeine, she'll pour you a mug once you're officially cleared to come inside. "You can't be too careful these days. Just last week one of my neighbors refused to take off her faux Jimmy Choos during the SJG Security Check. Who knows what she's stashed inside that knock-off Birkin she shleps around. It would've been irresponsible to let her in." That said, if you make it past the SJG Nudnik Scanner, and answer a few inappropriate questions of a deeply personal nature, "I promise to welcome you into my home, share a fresh brew and regale you with the story of how I fell madly in love with coffee. It happened in college and trust me, it's more compelling than 'The Notebook.' You'll cry, you'll rejoice, and God willing, you'll leave."

Sunday, September 28, 2014

Sock It To Me?

When the college son's socks go missing, as his socks often do, choosing to hide inside pant legs or shoes, under the bed or in the DMZ of his closet, he raids his father's sock drawer. This has been going on for a while now, at least a decade, but who's counting? Normally, the raid takes place in broad daylight. In terms of a stealth mission, it lacks the necessary stealthiness. It's not quite up to CIA standards. Unless it happens at 5 a.m., as it did this morning. Then it's less a raid and more of a rude awakening that elicits the following SJG response:
"Sorry, sorry. I need socks."
The mention of socks lessens the SJG's early morning disorientation.
"Oh, hi honey, I love you, make a good movie."
Then I go back to sleep, sort of.  Hubby is now wide awake, already putting his jeans on, ready to help in any way, and asking the pertinent questions.
"What time do you want me to bring lunch?"
You see, hubby is the caterer on the college son's senior project, a 10-minute short he must film in three days, each one beginning around, you guessed that right, 5 a.m. Hubby performs other tasks, as well, including, but not limited to, prop master, go-fer and continuity expert. The SJG supervises the whole mess, excuse me, process, from afar, issuing supportive texts from the comfort of my palatial estate, such mini-pep talks as "Yay!" and "Woo-hoo!" I've already done my job, as Highly Qualified Script Adviser, with such helpful notes as, "That comma should go there," and "Make sure your main character wears his own socks. That's important to his arc."

Saturday, September 27, 2014

Who's Stalking Me Now?

Snap, snap, snap, everywhere I go. It's such a nuisance, you have no idea. I can’t even leave my house without someone taking my photo. I go about my day, I hear that sound embedded in my brain. Click, click. I look around, I know they’re there, somewhere, hiding in the bushes, lurking behind shopping carts, balancing from telephone polls, hoping to steal a shameful shot of me, maybe make a few million bucks in exchange.

Friday, September 26, 2014

To A Doctor...

You're no doctor. But you're cute, so who cares?

Dear SJG,
I'm thinking about getting the flu shot today, but I'm afraid I might get the flu from the shot. I'm torn and bewildered and not all that well-informed. I heard you've got a medical degree from a little-known boutique med school in Sherman Oaks. What are your thoughts?

Already Feeling Achy

Polly wants a flu shot

Dear Achy,
My medical degree from the prestigious SJG School of Hypochondria qualifies me to answer any and all health-related questions and act like I know what I'm talking about, even though I get most of my info from WebMD. But then, doesn't everybody?

The world is divided into two categories. Those who get the flu shot and those who don't. I get the shot because it's written in the Torah that I must, and I do what the Torah tells me to do. I'm that kind of Jew.

God forbid the flu shot doesn't kick in the second you get it, and you're exposed to the virus as you leave CVS. You wind up with the flu. I have it on good authority (my own) that this rarely happens, but leave it to you, Achy, to be the one person it happens to, and then, knowing you, you'll tell everyone, "I got the flu shot and got the flu,"and now, thanks to you, no one gets the shot and everyone gets sick and guess whose fault it is? Yours.

What kind of person are you, anyway?

My advice: Get the shot. Just get it. Why are we even having this conversation? And as an added precaution, never leave your house. That way you'll never get the flu. You might be lonely, but you'll have your health, and that's everything.

You're welcome,

Thursday, September 25, 2014

I'm Late, I'm Late

I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date.
I'm meeting temple hubby at the temple gate.
All the Valley Jews are ready to congregate.
They've been searching for parking since quarter past eight.

I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date.
I'm meeting temple hubby at the temple gate.
Should I save him a seat, or leave it up to fate?
He can't get in without me, so he'll have to wait.

I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date.
I'm meeting temple hubby at the temple gate.
I lost my Star of David in the sidewalk grate.
On Rosh Hashanah morning, I'm in such a state.

I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date.
I'm meeting temple hubby at the temple gate.
I might just get there faster if I roller skate.
The wheels would make me taller, wouldn't that be great?

I'm off to the synagogue!