Short Jewish Skydiver

"That was fun," said the SJG

In a giant leap from more than 24 miles up, a short Jewish skydiver shattered the sound barrier Sunday while making the highest jump ever – a tumbling, death-defying plunge from a balloon to a safe landing into her own Sherman Oaks backyard. The Short Jewish Gal became the first person to reach supersonic speed without traveling in a jet or a spacecraft. Landing on grass that had once again been ripped apart by "that eff'n squirrel," the blogger lifted her arms in victory to the cheers of jubilant friends and spectators who followed her backyard descent. "I got a little nervous," the SJG admitted, post-leap.  "I wasn't thinking about breaking records, or what I'd serve for Thanksgiving.  It's at my house this year.  Please, don't get me started.  The only thing I wanted was to come back alive so I could keep nagging the people I love." The pressurized spacesuit "wasn't terribly flattering or thinning," she told reporters later, "but I did my best to get past it.  Sometimes you have to sacrifice fashion to make an impact."  The SJG's descent lasted just over nine minutes and at one point, it looked like she was spinning out of control.  "I'll admit, it made me super dizzy and I thought oy vey, this it it, I'll never meet my grandchildren.  If I plotz now, it'll be a big letdown." Luckily, she survived.  Traveling faster than sound is "fun," she said, "but I wouldn't want to do it again. Enough is enough."

Waiting For John Hurt

Beckett and Hurt:  Is it me, or do  these two dudes look alike?

 

Last night, as we waited for "Krapp's Last Tape" to begin, and more on that in a minute, Maura reviewed the list of previous shows in the program.  Naturally, she had a favorite.  "We loved 'Elephant Room,'" she said. Here hubby leaned in, and whispered, "Elephants."  Our code word, our wink wink.  Yes, the SJG dragged him into my elephant fixation.  Turns out, he's not a big fan of the elephants these days.  In fact, he'll do anything to avoid them.  Just now, he turned off the TV to avoid watching another elephant guard his tusk.

But let's go back to the play, shall we?  Right before the theater went dark, Maura, a gal I met on a street corner, walking home from junior high, turned to me and said, "You can lead the discussion about the play when we go to coffee."  "What if I don't want to?"  Just then, the lights went out and it was pitch black at the Kirk Douglas.  We sat there in darkness for quite a while.  Disturbing?  Very.  I think that was the point.  Get us good and weirded out before the play even starts.  Or maybe it had started?  Remember, this play is by Samuel Becket, who brought us "Waiting For Godot."

So we waited and waited in the dark.  And then a dim spotlight revealed John Hurt, aka the Elephant Man, on stage, sitting at a desk.  Just sitting.  Sitting and saying nothing for quite a while.  Disturbing?  Very.  I think that was the point.  John Hurt, aka the guy called Krapp, just sat and sat and sat and said nothing.  The theater was silent, except for all the breathing and coughing and sniffling.  It was all a big WTF, a big artistic question mark.  Is this it?  Is he just going to sit there and say bupkis for 55 minutes, and let the audience completely lose our collective sh*t?   I sat there and read hubby's thoughts.  "I left Sherman Oaks for this?  I could be home, watching the Formula One Race."  Another minute went by, and then another, and finally, John Hurt, aka the guy in "Alien" who has a horrifying creature jut out of his stomach, and wreak havoc on the spaceship -- I hate when that happens -- started talking.  Hurray!  He ate a banana.  He ate another banana.  He listened to the tape his younger Krapp self had made at 39.  He stopped and started the tape.  He played the part about sex, rewound, played it again.  He liked that part a lot.  He got up, left the stage, came back, listened to the tape, threw stuff on the floor, and made a a new tape.

It was sad and what's the word I'm looking for?  Disturbing?  Very.  I think that was the point.  And then it was over.  The end.  Standing O for John Hurt.  Hurray!  He'd done a lot with very little.  Afterwards, we walked across the street, the four of us, to have coffee.  I attempted to lead a discussion, but  honestly, there wasn't much to to talk about.  Maura let me slide.

Coinky Dink?

John Hurt in "Krapp's Last Tape"

John Hurt in "The Elephant Man"

I know, I know.  I promised I was done with the elephants, but they're stalking me. Tonight, hubby and I will attend the theater with our far-more cultured friends Maura and Mark.  I hope we don't embarrass them, but I can't make any promises.  You know how rowdy hubby gets at the theater.  "What's the play about?" I asked.  "I have no idea," Maura said.  "Who's in it?" "Um..."  "Sounds great.  We're in."  We said goodbye and panic set in.  What had I done?  I went a-Googling.   Oh, okay.  This is good.  We're seeing a Samuel Becket play called "Krapp's Last Tape."  A one-man show starring... John Hurt, aka "The Elephant Man."  A ha!  See what I mean?  The elephants are stalking me.  I'm powerless to stop them. 

Tall Jewish Giraffes

Tall Jewish Giraffe tries to shove elephant out of blog

The people have spoken. They're tired of elephants. They want giraffes. Tall Jewish Giraffes, to be specific.  So here are the top five TJG jokes you've been craving:
1.  Why wasn't the TJG invited to the party?
He was a pain in the neck!
2.  What do you get when two TJGs collide?
A giraffic jam!
3.  Why did the TJG graduate early?
He was head and shoulders above the rest of the class.
4.  What did Dracula say when he saw a TJG for the first time?
I'd like to get to gnaw you!
5.  Why are TJGs so slow to apologize?
It takes them a long time to swallow their pride!

You're welcome!
(for the Kateness)

Apply Within

Friendly Editor Needed

Every day I sit my tush down at the computer, coffee by my side, and ponder, in an accent I borrow from Kerry, my clever British friend, "Whatever shall I blog about today?"  It's so much classier than my normal way of speaking, which sounds something like this:  "Oh @#$%!  What the @#$% should I write about?"  After posing my question, Britishly, I wait for divine intervention.  I'm still waiting.  Usually, I just pick the first random silly thing that pops into my crowded brain.  This can be good and not so good.  I may repeat a topic without even realizing it.  This is what happens when you don't have an editor to point out your typos and logic gaps and offer helpful, constructive criticism that keeps you up at night and makes you question your existence.  I can only  imagine the sort of editorial spanky-spank that would land in my in-box this week:  "Uh, SJG, really? On Saturday, you referenced 'The Elephant Man,' and on Tuesday, you wrote about elephant tchotchkes.  How about finding another animal?  Giraffes maybe.  Write a blog about giraffes, or zebras.  Or maybe some human who's pissing you off.  Enough with the elephants.  Best, Your Imaginary Editor."

Where Are The Elephants?

Endangered Tchotchke!

There are many joyous events in life, many reasons to shout woo-hoo.  Getting my teeth cleaned doesn't fall in the woo-hoo category.  The mouth of the SJG is so tender these days, so sensitive, like the rest of me.  Getting my teeth cleaned calls for a gentle touch and the art of dental distraction.  I count on visual aids. Carrying on a conversation with the lovely hygienist while she pokes around my gums with an instrument of torture is difficult.  Yesterday, I stepped foot in the designated dental room and knew something was amiss: "Is this a different room?" "No, it's the same room." "Where are the elephants?" "They wanted to go home."  "I don't understand."  "I packed them up and brought them home."  "But I love the elephants.  I love to look at them lined up on the ledge.  I count on those elephants."  "They're very happy at home."  My reporter skills kicked in.  I knew something was wrong here.  Those elephants have hung out on the ledge for years.  This room is their home.  "Okay, what's really going on?" "What do you mean?"  "What's the real reason those elephants have left the building?"  The lovely hygienist sighed.  "It's a new policy."  "An elephant ban?" "The doctors don't want anything cluttering the window.  They think it's unprofessional."  "So all of a sudden, they issued an anti-tchotcke warning?  No knickknacks in the window, no adorable, soothing figurines, or violators will be prosecuted?"  "It wasn't that harsh."  "You should protest."  "I like my job."  "I like the elephants."  "Me, too."

What Day Is It?

"What time is it?" asked the SJG.
"6:15," yawned hubby.
"What day is it?" asked the SJG.
"Monday," sighed hubby.
"Why can't we go back to Sunday?" asked the SJG.