Adventure on the Red Line

We're off to see Sinatra

When you think of the me, the SJG, as I hope you do daily, every 15 minutes or so, I'm sure what comes to mind is this:  "Oh, that SJG, she's always up for adventure."  Followed by, "Gee, I wonder which Harley she's taking out for a ride today."  What's that?  These are not the things that come to mind?  Well, I'm a little hurt.  I am too up for adventure!  Take yesterday.  Yesterday, I took the Metro for the first time.  Can I get a woo-hoo?  Of course, I took along my bodyguards.  I'm not crazy.  The lovely Nadine, Joan and Carrie, dear friends from dance class, stood by me every step of the way, shielding me from harm, guiding me through the purchase of my ticket, showing me where to wait for the Red Line, telling me when to get on -- "Wait till the doors open!  Good girl!" -- and when to get off.  It was all so helpful.  The ride to Hollywood and Vine was incident-free, just the way the SJG likes it.  We brunched, we saw "Come Fly Away," at the Pantages and it was all fabulous.  Then we crossed the street and went back down to the Metro and got followed by a whacked-out guy dressed in black.  As we bought our tickets, he stood near by, mumbling creepy stuff, like, "Hey, you like Sinatra?  I can sing better than Sinatra.  You want me to sing for you?  It's a dollar."  We did our best to ignore him, but someone, I think it was me, said, "Uh, no thanks."  Then he started swearing at us, and saying rude things and left.  We got back on the Red Line and that was enough adventure for the SJG.  I can now cross taking the Metro off my bucket list. 

Broadway Star/Squirrel Expert

Connie Ray in "Next Fall"

It's always good to have a star in your menagerie of close, personal friends. You never know when someone of such grace and stature, such talent might come in handy.  Sure, Connie Ray has appeared on Broadway, television and the big screen, but underneath all the glitz and glam and tight-fitting couture, is really just a humble farm girl from North Carolina.  A kugel-loving, lanky ginger who knows the weirdest stuff imaginable.  When in need of earthly advice, I turn to her and she never lets me down.  "Help me, Connie," I said the other day, "help me, please, I beg of you."  "What is it now?" she asked.  "The evil squirrel is back.  In fact, he never left."  "I already told you what to do about him." "You told me what to do when he destroys my potted plants.  Cover the soil with rocks to stop the little bastard from digging."  "And did you do it?"  "Not yet."  "Carol!  That was years ago."  "I know, I know, I'm weak."  "So what's the problem now?"

The Early Works of the SJG

Like skeptics Walt Whitman, Charles Dickens, Mark Twain, Sigmund Freud and Charlie Chaplin, 87-year-old social scientist S. Calum Gilfillan believes that William Shakespeare was not the real author of the famous works which bear his name.  Gilfillan became a doubting Thomas in 1920, when an English schoolmaster, J. Thomas Looney, published Shakespeare Identified, "the greatest detective story of all time."  According to Gilfillan, Looney concluded that the only person who could have written the plays was Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford. --  UCLA Daily Bruin, 1976

And now, some 35 years later after I exposed this wacky theory to my fellow students, and tried to disprove it by interviewing David Rhodes, my English professor (smart move on my part), they've gone and made a hot, bodice-ripping movie called "Anonymous," based on my brilliant early reportage.  It opens today.  Call me deluded, but I fully expect a fat check in the mail, plus a hearty acknowledgement in the credits:  "Had the Short Jewish Gal not written about the Earl of Oxford back in the pre-Internet days, when dinosaurs roamed the earth, the filmmakers would've been forced to make up stuff."  You're welcome.  Now, pay up.  Oh, and as for Willy the Shake, and where this former English major stands on the controversy, let's just say, I've been to Stratford, capiche?  I've seen the thatched roof.  I've seen the folios.  I've lived in the promised land of Shakespeare, okay?  Shakespeare is Shakespeare.  The real deal.  How do I know this?  I just do.  I don't care what the others say.  I love him.  I love him for his plays.  I love him for his sonnets.  I love him for the man he was and the man he wanted to be. He compleats me.  (Shout out to ye olde English majors everywhere.)

Easter Bonnet Or Gynecological Diagram?

I think we can all agree that life has its fair share of disappointments.  Yesterday, a spectacular one arrived via the US Postal Service.  My fake Princess Bea hat is a dud.  A letdown.  A cautionary tale. Unless I tilt my head just so, don't walk, don't move, don't eff with gravity, the thing simply won't behave.  It's a flip-floppery disaster, sliding this way and that on mine keppy.  That didn't stop me from emailing this silly photo of silly, silly me to my nearest and dearest for instant commentary. Cheryl wondered, "Is that an octopus or a uterus on your head?"  Both, I believe.  Carla asked if she could borrow it for an upcoming event.  Connie told me I looked royal.  I told her to curtsy when she sees me this afternoon.  Still, I have a plastic tiara on reserve and a long strand of pearls as backup, in case my fake Princess Bea hat just can't keep itself up for the Halloween party.  Or maybe my brother will make me another balloon crown.  Hint hint.

The Princess Is Awake

Mine came first

Coinky-dink?  I think not.

Going once, going twice . . . one world-famous royal balloon fascinator, sold! The bow/pretzel-shaped balloon extravaganza worn by the Short Jewish Gal for no reason other than silliness went for major bucks in an Ebay auction that ended on Tuesday. An anonymous winning bidder snagged the historic piece of balloon millinery for a staggering $130,000.  All the money raised from the 10-day auction will be donated to good causes through the SJG Initiative. "The hat, designed by my brother, the renowned balloon artist Mr. John Starr, has its own personality, and I am so happy that we have raised the most incredible amount of money and can make an even bigger change for the lives of those less fortunate than the royal moi," said the SJG.  "Clearly, my fanciful headpiece has inspired several notable rip-offs since I first wore it doing errands in Sherman Oaks.  No names mentioned, but a certain ginger-haired princess wore a shockingly similar, fallopian-themed fascinator to a certain wedding, without giving me or my brother credit.  Bitter?  Just a tad.  Nonetheless, I'm willing to let it go, as long as the princess in question loans me her shameless copy for Halloween."

Halloween Costume Clue #2

I made my film debut in The Young Victoria (2009).  I had a minor, non-speaking role in a number of scenes. I like to think I stole the movie from Emily Blunt.  Who am I?

Who Am I?

My brother's Halloween/10th Anniversary with Tim celebration comes up on Saturday.  What to wear?  What.  To.  Wear?  The bloody screwdriver sticking out of my cheeks?  The bloody knife sticking out of my neck?  I've done that so many years in a row.  Such fun scaring the sh*t out of the young'ns at the front door.  But you know how I hate to repeat myself.  This year, for the party and the impressionable trick-or-treaters, I'm going classy.  No blood, no gore.  This year, I'm aiming for a whole other kind of spooky.  I've placed my order and while I await the arrival of my haunted apparel, I'm going to give you a few hints:  I want to use my position to help others.  I've volunteered as a sales clerk at a department store.  I have plans to start my own fashion label.  In 2010, I competed in a marathon.  Who am I?