On The Fringe

On the way to the UCLA Faculty Center for a memorial, I said this to my adorable mother-in-law:
"Look at you with the fringe handbag. You look so hip and happening."
"Thank you."
"I've never seen that bag before."
"Yes, you have."
"I don't remember."
"I gave it to you for your birthday last year. You didn't want it."
"Oh, man."
"You said it wasn't you."
"Yikes."
"So I decided it was me."
"Too late to ask for it back?"
"Yes."

Things I've Googled Lately

Hello, Muddah? Hello Faddah?

Google: Why do I always dream I can't reach my parents on the phone?
Answer: Even in Heaven, they're avoiding you. 

Mosquitoes find her attractive

Google: Why can't I go a day without getting a mosquito bite?
Answer: Genetics account for 85 percent of a person's attractiveness to mosquitoes.

Google: Is it okay to blame my parents for all my problems?
Answer: Only if you want to rot in hell for eternity.

She decided to cut back on the Googling

and live her best life.

Polly Wants A Flu Shot

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?
Thanks,
Already Feeling Achy

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,
The SJG

Cures For The Common Keppy

With no known cure in sight for the common keppy, burdened with the contagious symptoms of life, and all the miscellaneous mishegas that comes with the territory, the SJG, a giver by nature, an over-thinker since birth, would like to offer three tips to ease the suffering.

1. Blow Your Shofar Often. Not an actual shofar, unless you happen to have one socked away for the High Holidays, which will be here sooner than soon. If you have an ancient ram's horn, mazel tov. Use it with pride. Otherwise, blow your shofar, metaphorically. Toot your own bugle. Brag, boast, feel good. Make some noise, people. Speak up. Vent. Geshrei at the top of your lungs. Staying silent is the best way to grow neurosis. Suppression isn't your friend. Trust me on this. How do you think I ended up so angsty?

2. Problem-Solve In Yiddish. You'll make a less stupid decision if you insert oy vey and oy gevalt into the equation. Curse those who drive you nuts, including estranged relatives, no names mentioned, the SJG is far too classy for that, in the language your grandparents spoke in front of you, in hopes you didn't understand diddly, but you picked up plenty and translated later. Plus insults are more cathartic in Yiddish. Example? Ale tsores vos ikh hob oyf mayn hartsn, zoln oysgeyn tsu zayn kop. So much better than, "All problems I have in my heart, should go to his head." Thinking in Yiddish (okay fine, in any foreign language) helps to separate your mind from your emotions and analyze a situation more clearly. Cursing in Yiddish is the cherry on top. Marie Kondo that kaka, capiche?

3. Gargle With Chicken Soup. It couldn't hurt. But don't be an idiot. Let it cool down first. Swishing around Bubbe's Magic Pesach Potion will unclog your mind, moisten your mood, and bring temporary relief to all that dysfunction you're schlepping in your psyche.

via GIPHY

A Dog Walks Into A Bar

The music maven and his sidekick

A young music maven walks into a bar with his royal rescue pup of questionable lineage. He tells the bartender, “I got a Jewish dog named Blakey. He’s so smart he actually talks. Can I get a drink on the house if my dog talks for you?''

''Dogs can't talk, pal,” replies the bartender, “but if you can prove to me yours does, I'll give you a drink. If not, well, let’s just say you don’t wanna find out.''

''Okay,'' says the music maven. He turns to his dog. ''Okay, Blakey. Tell me – what is on top of a house?''

''Roof!'' The maven turns and smiles at the bartender.

''THAT ain't talking! Any dog can bark!''

''Okay, Blakey. Tell me – how does sandpaper feel?'' 

''Ruff!"

''What the heck you tryin' to pull, mister?'' says the bartender.

''Okay, okay," says the maven. "One more question. Okay, Blakey, tell me – who is the greatest ball player who ever lived?''

"Ruth."

The bartender has had enough and picks up the young man and his dog and throws them onto the sidewalk outside of the bar. Blakey stands up and looks at the maven. "Wow. Maybe I shoulda said DiMaggio?"

That's How It's Done On Labor Day

Over here at the SJG palatial estate, the Upstairs/Downstairs butler just announced he's taking Labor Day off. The nerve. As he headed outside to bark for no reason, he demanded more overtime, more tea time, more "me" time. I quickly set him straight.  
"Sir Blakey?"
"Woof?"
"Your whole day is 'me' time. I command you to vacuum the entire house!"
"Woof."
I really should have been a labor negotiator. Oh, wait, I already did that, when I gave birth to the youngest. "Get this thing out of me now!" I hollered at the labor team, and they did just that. Well done, me!
And now, onto longtime hubby, lounging on the La-Z-Boy, pretending to observe the holiday.
"What's with the slacking off? I'm sure there's something in the house you can fix."
"Such as?"
"I thought I heard something leaking somewhere."
"I'm on it."
Whereupon he sprung to his feet and grabbed his tool box. And that, my friends, is how it's done on Labor Day.

My Near-Empty Happy Place

What could be better than a near-empty movie theater? A near-empty restaurant. A near-empty elevator. A near-empty freeway. A near-empty anything. Let's face it, the SJG loves the near-empty situation. Fewer people means less annoyance. Anti-social? Intolerant? How dare you. Well, maybe a little. "She hates noise," the eldest whispered to his lovely wife yesterday. "I heard that." This after the sons had already made fun of their favorite mother, the woman who birthed them long ago, the gal who got them through their bar mitzvahs and basically all educational activities from pre-school on. "Ma," the youngest said, "why didn't you pick seats in the middle?" "Because I like to sit on the aisle." The razzing continued until I pointed out that the near-empty theater meant they could sit "anywhere you eff'n want to, so move already, don't do me any favors." Ultimately, in a nice clump, we shifted toward the middle, God forbid the young people should be miserable, and soon, "Once Upon A Time In Hollywood" began.

It's so wonderful, I don't know what else to tell you, other than everything about it -- KHJ and Robert W. Morgan and the 1969 soundtrack; Westwood Village looking like the Westwood Village of my childhood; old TV show clips of "Mannix"; El Coyote, Casa Vega and Musso & Franks -- transported me back in time in the best way. El Coyote was our absolute favorite hang in early '80s, Casa Vega our go-to first Mexican restaurant when we moved to the Valley in '86. Longtime hubby still eats lunch regularly at Musso's. Nostalgia-wise, what more can you ask for?

My favorite shout-out: Seymour, host of Fright Night on KHJ-TV 

Tarantino peppers this late '60s culture fest with his crazy brand of dread, suspense and on-going threat of unhinged yet shockingly hilarious violence. And of course, brilliant acting that will knock you off your seat and potentially send you to the chiropractor, masseuse, acupuncturist or orthopedic specialist of your choice. But it's worth it. In other words, we all loved it, supremely. Go see it if you haven't already. You will sincerely dig it.