I received the following advertisement via e-mail today:
Diplomas from prestigious non-accredited universities
NO required tests, classes, books, or interviews.
Bachelors, Masters, MBA, and Doctorate (PhD) diplomas available in the field of your choice - that's right, you can become a Doctor and receive all the benefits and admiration that comes with it!
No one is turned down.
CALL TODAY ---->> 1 - 270-573-8493 (24 hours) <<----
I wasted 3.5 years and I-won't-tell-you-how-much money going to an accredited university, when I could have made one simple phone call and gotten a degree from a non-accredited one! But not just any non-accredited university...a prestigious non-accredited university. What was I thinking?
To prevent others from dealing with the same regrets, this blog will now provide diplomas from Cara's World University. That's right! You can receive your own Bachelor's, Master's or Doctorate in Bloggerology, or an MBA in Blog Management...all for the nominal fee of $19.95!
But Wait! That's not all!
Order in the next 5 minutes, and receive a Cara bobble-head doll ABSOLUTELY FREE!
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
For Your Reading Pleasure
The following is one of this blog's favorite poems of all times. Just felt like sharing.
Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll
(From Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There)
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll
(From Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There)
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Monday, March 29, 2004
Froogle This
I use Google frequently throughout the day. I would even go so far as to call myself a Google guru, based on my experience and skill in finding precisely what I'm looking for.
Today I was surprised by an addition of yet another tentacle to the Google octopus: Froogle. It's based off of the word 'frugal,' and is supposedly the smart way to shop.
Verdict: It's terrible. Absolutely awful. Even with my amazing range of Googling skills, it was a horrible experience. I experimented by searching for a pair of GAP jeans, and got 156 results. The first 16 were actually pairs of jeans. The next 6 were books. 5 out of those 6 were the exact same children's book, and the last was about a Chassid who wears GAP jeans and a Buffalo Bills T-shirt. It just went downhill from there.
Moral of the story: Beware the Froogle Monster! Stay far, far away! The warning of the Google Guru is not to be thrown away lightly.
Today I was surprised by an addition of yet another tentacle to the Google octopus: Froogle. It's based off of the word 'frugal,' and is supposedly the smart way to shop.
Verdict: It's terrible. Absolutely awful. Even with my amazing range of Googling skills, it was a horrible experience. I experimented by searching for a pair of GAP jeans, and got 156 results. The first 16 were actually pairs of jeans. The next 6 were books. 5 out of those 6 were the exact same children's book, and the last was about a Chassid who wears GAP jeans and a Buffalo Bills T-shirt. It just went downhill from there.
Moral of the story: Beware the Froogle Monster! Stay far, far away! The warning of the Google Guru is not to be thrown away lightly.
Friday, March 26, 2004
Gasp! It's True! (Oh Wait, No...It's Not)
I've been taking the various Internet quizzes currently featured on Prodly's blog, mostly because I don't feel like working.
Normally I find them crap. But today I took the "Book Quiz" and got a strange result...
I'm the book I'm in the middle of reading!
(Or re-reading after about 7 years, to be accurate).
Now, the description of me as "The Mists of Avalon" is complete bunk. I'm not obsessed with Camelot, my favorite movie from childhood certainly wasn't "The Sword in the Stone" (I prefer Muppets, thank you very much), I don't focus on women (I like men), and I definitely don't recall ever wishing that I could meet Jackie Kennedy.
Regardless of the inaccuracies, how did they know I'm reading this book? What else do they know about me?
Normally I find them crap. But today I took the "Book Quiz" and got a strange result...
I'm the book I'm in the middle of reading!
(Or re-reading after about 7 years, to be accurate).
Now, the description of me as "The Mists of Avalon" is complete bunk. I'm not obsessed with Camelot, my favorite movie from childhood certainly wasn't "The Sword in the Stone" (I prefer Muppets, thank you very much), I don't focus on women (I like men), and I definitely don't recall ever wishing that I could meet Jackie Kennedy.
Regardless of the inaccuracies, how did they know I'm reading this book? What else do they know about me?
Thursday, March 25, 2004
Hey, Prodly...
I'm a Pegasus, too!
You're a pegasus. You're very calm and loving.
Something about you makes others want to get
close to you, whether or not you feel the same
way about them. You don't bond to others
easily, but when you do it's long-lasting. Your
alignment is *good*, but not so much that you
can't have fun.
Take the Quiz! I dare you!
brought to you by Quizilla
You're a pegasus. You're very calm and loving.
Something about you makes others want to get
close to you, whether or not you feel the same
way about them. You don't bond to others
easily, but when you do it's long-lasting. Your
alignment is *good*, but not so much that you
can't have fun.
Take the Quiz! I dare you!
brought to you by Quizilla
The Unfairness Of It All
A recent news update in the Jerusalem Post said that tourists are rapidly canceling their hotel and plane reservations for Pesach vacations to Israel, due to fears of escalating terrorist attacks.
I understand those fears, and I cannot say I truly blame them for backing out. Yet, at the same time, I do blame them. I've been trying to get back to Israel for over a year now. My long hoped-for 2 week vacation will most likely have to be postponed, due to circumstances beyond my control (which, for the record, have nothing whatsoever to do with terrorists trying to keep me out of my own homeland). So here I am, trying desperately to hold on to the hope that I will be in Eretz Yisroel before this calendar year is through, and all these people who have the chance to go in the next few weeks are backing out.
As a service to society, this blog gladly volunteers to relieve them of their tickets and reservations. Unless they come to their senses, remember that Israel needs their support, and decide to go this Pesach anyway.
For all those who are not canceling their plans, kol hakavod!
I understand those fears, and I cannot say I truly blame them for backing out. Yet, at the same time, I do blame them. I've been trying to get back to Israel for over a year now. My long hoped-for 2 week vacation will most likely have to be postponed, due to circumstances beyond my control (which, for the record, have nothing whatsoever to do with terrorists trying to keep me out of my own homeland). So here I am, trying desperately to hold on to the hope that I will be in Eretz Yisroel before this calendar year is through, and all these people who have the chance to go in the next few weeks are backing out.
As a service to society, this blog gladly volunteers to relieve them of their tickets and reservations. Unless they come to their senses, remember that Israel needs their support, and decide to go this Pesach anyway.
For all those who are not canceling their plans, kol hakavod!
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
Refuah Shelaymah for Mark Prior
The Chicago Cubs have announced that our beloved pitcher, Mark Prior, will start the 2004 World Series-bound baseball season on the disabled list, due to an inflamed Achilles tendon.
I don't know what name you'd use to say a refuah shelaymah for him (because if he was MOT, I'd definately have called dibs a while ago), but with our combined forces, perhaps we can soon make him all better. I think it's definately worth a try.
And for all you doubters, Mark's current status in no way lessens the Cubs' chances of going to the World Series. They are going, and they will win. The blog has spoken!
I don't know what name you'd use to say a refuah shelaymah for him (because if he was MOT, I'd definately have called dibs a while ago), but with our combined forces, perhaps we can soon make him all better. I think it's definately worth a try.
And for all you doubters, Mark's current status in no way lessens the Cubs' chances of going to the World Series. They are going, and they will win. The blog has spoken!
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
Possibly the Worst Joke Ever
I read this five minutes ago on a Laffy Taffy wrapper. And, as we all know, Laffy Taffy wrappers display the budding humor of this country's next generation of comedians.
Q: How many pigs does it take to make a hamburger?
A: None- they are made out of cows.
This country is doomed. We might as well be living in Canada.
Q: How many pigs does it take to make a hamburger?
A: None- they are made out of cows.
This country is doomed. We might as well be living in Canada.
Monday, March 22, 2004
Time Warp
The clock on the bus this morning read "02/04/88 12:15 AM" when I boarded.
At first I found it funny. And then I actually began thinking about it (having little else to do, since I left my book at home).
What if there was a bus that was actually a time machine? I would get on, thinking I was going to work, and I'd get off in time to get to my first grade homeroom. I mean, I liked first grade and all, but I wouldn't want to be 6 years old again. And how would I get back? I wasn't allowed to take the CTA by myself when I was that age! Or would I be the current Cara, but stuck in another dimension? Would there be 2 Caras at the same time, in the same place?
The depressing part is the thought that some of my first grade classmates would still be taller than I am now.
At first I found it funny. And then I actually began thinking about it (having little else to do, since I left my book at home).
What if there was a bus that was actually a time machine? I would get on, thinking I was going to work, and I'd get off in time to get to my first grade homeroom. I mean, I liked first grade and all, but I wouldn't want to be 6 years old again. And how would I get back? I wasn't allowed to take the CTA by myself when I was that age! Or would I be the current Cara, but stuck in another dimension? Would there be 2 Caras at the same time, in the same place?
The depressing part is the thought that some of my first grade classmates would still be taller than I am now.
Friday, March 19, 2004
What I Learned At Work Today
1) The government, military, universities, doctors and dentists are all conspiring against Hashem's children (this means you!).
2) There is no such thing as a genetic disease. It's impossible to even know what's genetic and what isn't. All the so-called "genetic" conditions are man-made. Therefore, whenever a doctor tells you that you have a genetic condition, it's really a cover-up for a government crime.
3) "Burnout" is really a government term for "losing your soul."
4) Schools and universities are training young people to never complain about the harm inflicted upon them by the government and military. These schools are unsafe for young people and should be closed.
5) Computer software and hand-held electronic devices are the weapons of government and military personnel trained in criminal technology and the methodology of 'thought control.'
I learned all of these facts from a woman who called my office just to share the products of 9-10 years of her "research." She faxed all of this to me as well, so I have it in writing. She also says that these are 'Biblical' times, that the diseases we suffer from (those that aren't man-made, that is) are actually plagues, and that we're also experiencing darkness and flooding.
Morals of the Story:
1) Don't go to the doctor or dentist
2) Don't go, or send your children, to school
3) Don't use computers or hand-held electronic devices
4) Carry a flashlight, an umbrella, and watch out for locusts.
2) There is no such thing as a genetic disease. It's impossible to even know what's genetic and what isn't. All the so-called "genetic" conditions are man-made. Therefore, whenever a doctor tells you that you have a genetic condition, it's really a cover-up for a government crime.
3) "Burnout" is really a government term for "losing your soul."
4) Schools and universities are training young people to never complain about the harm inflicted upon them by the government and military. These schools are unsafe for young people and should be closed.
5) Computer software and hand-held electronic devices are the weapons of government and military personnel trained in criminal technology and the methodology of 'thought control.'
I learned all of these facts from a woman who called my office just to share the products of 9-10 years of her "research." She faxed all of this to me as well, so I have it in writing. She also says that these are 'Biblical' times, that the diseases we suffer from (those that aren't man-made, that is) are actually plagues, and that we're also experiencing darkness and flooding.
Morals of the Story:
1) Don't go to the doctor or dentist
2) Don't go, or send your children, to school
3) Don't use computers or hand-held electronic devices
4) Carry a flashlight, an umbrella, and watch out for locusts.
Thursday, March 18, 2004
Gender Laws of Karaoke
There are always certain songs that will be sung at a karaoke bar, like "Sweet Caroline" and "Me and Bobby McGee." This is just one of the unstated rules which govern karaoke bars in this country. However, after a horrifying experience last night, I believe it is time to explicitly state one of the unstated laws:
SOME SONGS MAY ONLY BE SUNG BY WOMEN.
Let's be honest. A girl can sing whatever song she feels like, particularly if she is both attractive and drunk. She can give Led Zepplin her best shot, and more power to her.
But this freedom does not work both ways. There are some songs that men should just never attempt. It doesn't matter if you think you'll score some points with the girl you came with by singing her favorite. You really won't.
Last night's example: Madonna's "Like A Prayer." Huge No-No. It was traumatizing. He didn't even try to sing it like a woman. It was a baritone voice singing Madonna lyrics. And that's just wrong.
SOME SONGS MAY ONLY BE SUNG BY WOMEN.
Let's be honest. A girl can sing whatever song she feels like, particularly if she is both attractive and drunk. She can give Led Zepplin her best shot, and more power to her.
But this freedom does not work both ways. There are some songs that men should just never attempt. It doesn't matter if you think you'll score some points with the girl you came with by singing her favorite. You really won't.
Last night's example: Madonna's "Like A Prayer." Huge No-No. It was traumatizing. He didn't even try to sing it like a woman. It was a baritone voice singing Madonna lyrics. And that's just wrong.
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
All Clear
To those of you who may have been frightened by yesterday's post-
The danger has passed. It is safe to return now. Apologies for the inconvenience.
-The Management
The danger has passed. It is safe to return now. Apologies for the inconvenience.
-The Management
Tuesday, March 16, 2004
Self-Indulgent Moment of Ranting
Normally, I use my blog time to talk about simchas or the stupid things people do. But I'm going to depart from that for a bit, and vent some steam. If you can't handle it, leave now, because I'm not in the mood to indulge you.
I consider myself a nice person, someone who is usually compassionate and understanding of those around me. In fact, many of my college friends have told me that I'm "too nice," because I'm so understanding of other people's quirks and flaws, and generally find ways to excuse them. For a while now, I've been wondering why being "too nice" is a bad thing. After all, it's a cruel and selfish world out there, so isn't it good that there are people who genuinely care about others?
Apparently not. Apparently, because it is a cruel and selfish world, the 'nice' people in it get walked all over. There is no reciprocity. The more understanding and compassionate and selfless you are to others, the more selfish they're going to be. Why? Because you'll understand, of course! The fairer you try to be when dealing with other people, the more unfair they'll be to you.
I'm a very forgiving person. But right now, I've had enough.
Think I'm not being fair in this assessment of the world around me? Well, I'm feeling rather angry at the moment, and I'm going to selfishly indulge that anger. You'll just have to be understanding.
I consider myself a nice person, someone who is usually compassionate and understanding of those around me. In fact, many of my college friends have told me that I'm "too nice," because I'm so understanding of other people's quirks and flaws, and generally find ways to excuse them. For a while now, I've been wondering why being "too nice" is a bad thing. After all, it's a cruel and selfish world out there, so isn't it good that there are people who genuinely care about others?
Apparently not. Apparently, because it is a cruel and selfish world, the 'nice' people in it get walked all over. There is no reciprocity. The more understanding and compassionate and selfless you are to others, the more selfish they're going to be. Why? Because you'll understand, of course! The fairer you try to be when dealing with other people, the more unfair they'll be to you.
I'm a very forgiving person. But right now, I've had enough.
Think I'm not being fair in this assessment of the world around me? Well, I'm feeling rather angry at the moment, and I'm going to selfishly indulge that anger. You'll just have to be understanding.
Adventures at the Polling Place
Today is the primary in my lovely home state, and like a good citizen, I made time this morning to vote. It was supposed to be easy, but I was foiled by the stupidity of others.
I was pretty sure I knew which poll I was supposed to go to, but since I passed one right around the corner from my apartment, I stopped in to double check. After all, I had no wish to wander around the neighborhood aimlessly. So I walked in, and had the following dialogue:
Dumb Volunteer #1: Do you live in this building?
Blog: No, I...
Dumb Volunteer #1: Then you don't vote here.
Blog: Yes, I know that. I was wondering if you could tell me where I am supposed to vote.
Dumb Volunteer #2: What street do you live on? (Blog gives address). Oh, you're supposed to vote at the public school.
Blog: That isn't where I voted in the past. Are you sure?
Dumb Volunteer #2: Yes.
This blog then leaves, and goes back out in the frigid weather to the public school. Upon entering, I immediately notice that the signs do not list my precinct. 'Aha!' this blog think. 'I was right. I don't vote here...' While thinking, a man came up and asked if I needed help.
Blog: Yes, my precinct isn't listed here. Can you tell me the address of the correct polling place?
Man: Come in the auditorium. The people in there can help you.
The man guides me towards a desk, at which more volunteers were sitting.
Dumb Volunteer #3: What's your address? (Blog supplies address) That's not in this precinct. You need to go down to the tables over there. (points towards two other tables)
Very frustrated, I walk to the other tables, and am accosted by more dumb volunteers. This blog tries to cut them off before they start their dumb shpiel.
Blog: Can you tell me where the 44th precinct is supposed to vote?
Dumb Volunteer #4: What's your address? (Blog wearily supplies address) That's not in this precinct. This table is for the 46th precinct.
Blog: Yes, I know that. I live in the 44th precinct. Can you tell me where I'm supposed to go?
Dumb Volunteer #5: What's your address? (Blog supplies address yet again) Oh, you're in the 19th precinct. You should go to the last table.
Blog: No, I'm in the 44th precinct. Not the 19th.
Dumb Volunteer #5: You mean the 44th ward.
Blog: No, I mean the 44th precinct of the 44th Ward.
Dumb Volunteer #5: You're in the 19th precinct.
Blog: Were the precincts changed recently?
Dumb Volunteer #5: (vacant stare)
Blog: Unless my precinct was redrawn, I'm in the 44th.
Dumb Volunteer #5: You're in the 19th. Here, follow me.
Dumb Volunteer #5 leads me to the 19th precinct table, where this blog is immediately greeted by...
Dumb Volunteer #6: What's your address? (Blog gives address yet again, and wonders is she can just wear it as a name tag) Oh, you're not in the 19th precinct.
By this time, this blog is ready to jab the dumb volunteers in the eye with the ballot-punching tool. Their eyes are saved only by the arrival of Smart Volunteer, who walks over to the wall, where a list of precincts and polling places is taped. He then tells me where to go.
Sadly, it's the address I thought it was when I left the apartment. I'd have been fine if I'd never asked anyone anything. And now I cast yet another vote...
Cara's World officially votes all the dumb volunteers off the island. May they all be plagued by voters even dumber than they are.
I was pretty sure I knew which poll I was supposed to go to, but since I passed one right around the corner from my apartment, I stopped in to double check. After all, I had no wish to wander around the neighborhood aimlessly. So I walked in, and had the following dialogue:
Dumb Volunteer #1: Do you live in this building?
Blog: No, I...
Dumb Volunteer #1: Then you don't vote here.
Blog: Yes, I know that. I was wondering if you could tell me where I am supposed to vote.
Dumb Volunteer #2: What street do you live on? (Blog gives address). Oh, you're supposed to vote at the public school.
Blog: That isn't where I voted in the past. Are you sure?
Dumb Volunteer #2: Yes.
This blog then leaves, and goes back out in the frigid weather to the public school. Upon entering, I immediately notice that the signs do not list my precinct. 'Aha!' this blog think. 'I was right. I don't vote here...' While thinking, a man came up and asked if I needed help.
Blog: Yes, my precinct isn't listed here. Can you tell me the address of the correct polling place?
Man: Come in the auditorium. The people in there can help you.
The man guides me towards a desk, at which more volunteers were sitting.
Dumb Volunteer #3: What's your address? (Blog supplies address) That's not in this precinct. You need to go down to the tables over there. (points towards two other tables)
Very frustrated, I walk to the other tables, and am accosted by more dumb volunteers. This blog tries to cut them off before they start their dumb shpiel.
Blog: Can you tell me where the 44th precinct is supposed to vote?
Dumb Volunteer #4: What's your address? (Blog wearily supplies address) That's not in this precinct. This table is for the 46th precinct.
Blog: Yes, I know that. I live in the 44th precinct. Can you tell me where I'm supposed to go?
Dumb Volunteer #5: What's your address? (Blog supplies address yet again) Oh, you're in the 19th precinct. You should go to the last table.
Blog: No, I'm in the 44th precinct. Not the 19th.
Dumb Volunteer #5: You mean the 44th ward.
Blog: No, I mean the 44th precinct of the 44th Ward.
Dumb Volunteer #5: You're in the 19th precinct.
Blog: Were the precincts changed recently?
Dumb Volunteer #5: (vacant stare)
Blog: Unless my precinct was redrawn, I'm in the 44th.
Dumb Volunteer #5: You're in the 19th. Here, follow me.
Dumb Volunteer #5 leads me to the 19th precinct table, where this blog is immediately greeted by...
Dumb Volunteer #6: What's your address? (Blog gives address yet again, and wonders is she can just wear it as a name tag) Oh, you're not in the 19th precinct.
By this time, this blog is ready to jab the dumb volunteers in the eye with the ballot-punching tool. Their eyes are saved only by the arrival of Smart Volunteer, who walks over to the wall, where a list of precincts and polling places is taped. He then tells me where to go.
Sadly, it's the address I thought it was when I left the apartment. I'd have been fine if I'd never asked anyone anything. And now I cast yet another vote...
Cara's World officially votes all the dumb volunteers off the island. May they all be plagued by voters even dumber than they are.
Monday, March 15, 2004
Happy Happy! Joy Joy! #5
In keeping with this blog's self-appointed task of informing my small (but rapidly growing, due to this blog's increased use of subliminal messages) and devoted public of simchas in the lives of my family and friends, it gives Cara's World great pleasure to wish a
MAZEL TOV! to Geoff Winner and Shira Rubinoff on their engagement. May you be zoche to build a bayis ne'eman bi'yisroel, and all that other fun Yiddish/Hebrew stuff.
MAZEL TOV! to Geoff Winner and Shira Rubinoff on their engagement. May you be zoche to build a bayis ne'eman bi'yisroel, and all that other fun Yiddish/Hebrew stuff.
Friday, March 12, 2004
Some Thoughts on Mr. Arafat
During lunch today, the subject of Yassir Arafat came up in discussion. There were two particular aspects of Mr. Arafat's life, both professional and personal, which raised questions in my mind...
1) One of my lunch companions commented that it is quite remarkable, given Mr. Arafat's past behavior of lying to, stealing from, cheating and murdering his own 'people,' that they still want him as their leader. My companion claims that such a situation would never happen in this country.
My question: Would it make a difference if Mr. Arafat cheated on his wife with an intern?
2) Having raised the subject of matrimony, the many years of physical separation between Mr. and Mrs. Arafat was then pondered. One lunch companion made an irreverent remark about Mr. Arafat actually being married to a camel.
My question: When he got engaged to the camel, did he have to pay for it in women?
1) One of my lunch companions commented that it is quite remarkable, given Mr. Arafat's past behavior of lying to, stealing from, cheating and murdering his own 'people,' that they still want him as their leader. My companion claims that such a situation would never happen in this country.
My question: Would it make a difference if Mr. Arafat cheated on his wife with an intern?
2) Having raised the subject of matrimony, the many years of physical separation between Mr. and Mrs. Arafat was then pondered. One lunch companion made an irreverent remark about Mr. Arafat actually being married to a camel.
My question: When he got engaged to the camel, did he have to pay for it in women?
Thursday, March 11, 2004
Happy Happy! Joy Joy! #4
This just in...one of my birthright buddies, who never left Israel with the rest of us, just got engaged! Mazel Tov, Nechama and Jason!
One year, and two engagements later...who will be the next to fall?
One year, and two engagements later...who will be the next to fall?
Happy Happy! Joy Joy! #3
Thirty-one years ago today, my parental units stood under a chuppah and pledged their troth. (What exactly is troth, by the way? And what did they pledge to do with it?) And, this blog is pleased to report, they're still happily troth-pledged, for which I personally am grateful. There are many, many people out there, far stranger than the parental units I currently have, whose offspring I would never want to be.
Anyway, happy anniversary to my parental units! 31 years, and still going! And, as my male parental unit likes to say, that's longer than most murderers get!
Anyway, happy anniversary to my parental units! 31 years, and still going! And, as my male parental unit likes to say, that's longer than most murderers get!
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
Vampire Puppets
(Note: This is not the funny post I meant to put up. That post is lost and gone forever.)
I went for a walk with Gila last night, and (not surprisingly) got into a conversation about the various supernatural shows of the WB. In particular (but in no particular order), we discussed the current events, stupid plot moves, inconsistencies, and favorite characters/scenes from Charmed, Buffy, and Angel. Most of the conversation does not need to be recorded here.
However, I was reflecting on one part of the conversation, in which we discussed a recent episode of Angel which involved everyone's favorite dark, brooding vampire getting turned into a cute, fuzzy hand puppet. It was damn funny, particularly when puppet Angel says "I'm made of felt...and my nose comes off!"
However, it's also a little disturbing. What has television come to, when in order to compete with preposterous reality TV, supernatural TV shows have to delve into the "extremely silly and not even remotely possible" realm. A vampire turned puppet, fighting against wicked, nasty soul-stealing demons?
That's about as likely as me being on American Idol.
I went for a walk with Gila last night, and (not surprisingly) got into a conversation about the various supernatural shows of the WB. In particular (but in no particular order), we discussed the current events, stupid plot moves, inconsistencies, and favorite characters/scenes from Charmed, Buffy, and Angel. Most of the conversation does not need to be recorded here.
However, I was reflecting on one part of the conversation, in which we discussed a recent episode of Angel which involved everyone's favorite dark, brooding vampire getting turned into a cute, fuzzy hand puppet. It was damn funny, particularly when puppet Angel says "I'm made of felt...and my nose comes off!"
However, it's also a little disturbing. What has television come to, when in order to compete with preposterous reality TV, supernatural TV shows have to delve into the "extremely silly and not even remotely possible" realm. A vampire turned puppet, fighting against wicked, nasty soul-stealing demons?
That's about as likely as me being on American Idol.
I Had Something Funny To Post
But I forgot what it was.
At least I just wasted a few seconds of your life. That's kinda funny...
At least I just wasted a few seconds of your life. That's kinda funny...
Tuesday, March 09, 2004
Excellent, Smithers!
Another blog has been born to plague this world.
Perhaps my plan for world domination isn't going so poorly after all.
(Insert evil laugh here)
Perhaps my plan for world domination isn't going so poorly after all.
(Insert evil laugh here)
My Astonishing Mental Powers
So the jogging thing hasn't been going so well this week. The Purim festivities interfered with my Sunday schedule, and then sheer exhaustion (anyone want some insomnia? I've got plenty to spare!) prevented me from waking up in time yesterday morning. Today's early wake up didn't happen either. So now I've missed two (2) workouts.
Yet, strangely enough, muscles that weren't sore all weekend are sore now. I also have some bruises, and have no recollections of bumping into any furniture lately. So I'm left with two (2) theories:
1) Someone has been sneaking into my room and giving me these mysterious bruises, OR
2) My mental powers are so great that merely thinking about working out produces the same results as actually working out.
I obviously prefer Theory #2, but if for some reason #1 is actually correct, will my bedroom intruder please make himself/herself known? We can have a slumber party instead, and braid each other's hair! Maybe even toss in a pillowfight, if you're lucky....
Yet, strangely enough, muscles that weren't sore all weekend are sore now. I also have some bruises, and have no recollections of bumping into any furniture lately. So I'm left with two (2) theories:
1) Someone has been sneaking into my room and giving me these mysterious bruises, OR
2) My mental powers are so great that merely thinking about working out produces the same results as actually working out.
I obviously prefer Theory #2, but if for some reason #1 is actually correct, will my bedroom intruder please make himself/herself known? We can have a slumber party instead, and braid each other's hair! Maybe even toss in a pillowfight, if you're lucky....
Monday, March 08, 2004
Purim Weekend Report
I'll start with Purim night, since that came first. After a lovely shabbos lunch by Joe, Gila, and the always adorable Adin, followed by a short walk, a few hours curled up on their loveseat, and then havdalah, Gila fitted me into her Professor McGonagall robe. Goodbye witch, hello leprechaun! I then raced home, bathed myself, changed into costume, and raced to shul. A few shots and a megillah reading later, I was on my way to the Chabad in Evanston, where I got to hear my buddy Velvel play in one of his 3 bands. All in all, a quality Purim night.
Purim day was probably even better, although the morning started a bit slow. But eventually, Velvel and Becky got me to WRP, where we heard what is quite possibly the best megillah reading possible (Yay, Matt Kanter!), passed around some shaloch manos, had a bissele liquor, and piled into the Veitur Bus.
The Veitur Bus was rockin'...literally. While I stayed fairly sober, some of my companions got fairly shickered, and sang so enthusiastically that the bus shook. It was wonderfully lebedig. A good time to be had by all.
The weekend ended with a concert at the Hothouse featuring the musical talents of Ra'ashan and the Rabbinical School Drop Outs. And then I went 'veitur' all the way to my bed. Time for schluffy.
Purim day was probably even better, although the morning started a bit slow. But eventually, Velvel and Becky got me to WRP, where we heard what is quite possibly the best megillah reading possible (Yay, Matt Kanter!), passed around some shaloch manos, had a bissele liquor, and piled into the Veitur Bus.
The Veitur Bus was rockin'...literally. While I stayed fairly sober, some of my companions got fairly shickered, and sang so enthusiastically that the bus shook. It was wonderfully lebedig. A good time to be had by all.
The weekend ended with a concert at the Hothouse featuring the musical talents of Ra'ashan and the Rabbinical School Drop Outs. And then I went 'veitur' all the way to my bed. Time for schluffy.
Friday, March 05, 2004
Hava Narisha, RAASH, RAASH, RAASH!
It's Sing-Along Time! Let's get into that Purim spirit with one of the only Purim songs I remember from my day school years, which I can still play on the recorder! (Or could, if I ever find my recorder...)
Chag Purim, Chag Purim
Chag gadol la Yehudim.
Masechot v'raashanim, zemirot v'rakadim.
Hava narisha...raash, raash, raash!
Hava narisha...raash, raash, raash!
Hava narisha...raash, raash, raash!
Raash b'raashanim.
Chag Purim, Chag Purim
Chag gadol la Yehudim.
Masechot v'raashanim, zemirot v'rakadim.
Hava narisha...raash, raash, raash!
Hava narisha...raash, raash, raash!
Hava narisha...raash, raash, raash!
Raash b'raashanim.
Chivalry? I Think It Died.
I was the lucky person this morning who got onto the bus right before the bus driver (or "bus operator" as they are now called) closed the doors. It was a tight squeeze, and I was on the last step, right up against the doors. The man who got on right before me was very solicitous and courteous, asking if I had enough room, etc. I said "yes," because at the time it was true. Besides, I don't take up much room, right?
Well, I guess he took that to mean he no longer had to be solicitous, because he proceeded to turn around, taking up almost all of my space, and open a newspaper. This meant that every time he needed to turn the page, I had to maneuver my head quickly, so as to avoid getting elbowed in the eye. I also had to crane my neck in a not so comfortable position.
And then there was the other guy on the stair above me, with the huge briefcase that was constantly digging into my ribs. The same guy who elbowed me in the nose, and didn't even apologize. I mean, I know I'm kinda little, but I'm not invisible!
What's the point of being courteous and solicitous to a woman, if you're just going to elbow her in the head five minutes later?
Well, I guess he took that to mean he no longer had to be solicitous, because he proceeded to turn around, taking up almost all of my space, and open a newspaper. This meant that every time he needed to turn the page, I had to maneuver my head quickly, so as to avoid getting elbowed in the eye. I also had to crane my neck in a not so comfortable position.
And then there was the other guy on the stair above me, with the huge briefcase that was constantly digging into my ribs. The same guy who elbowed me in the nose, and didn't even apologize. I mean, I know I'm kinda little, but I'm not invisible!
What's the point of being courteous and solicitous to a woman, if you're just going to elbow her in the head five minutes later?
Thursday, March 04, 2004
Got Purim?
It's almost that time of year again. The costumes are being fine-tuned, the hamentaschen are baking, and the seuda van is loading.
I love this chag. It's just so much fun to run around in silly costumes (and mine's fairly silly this year), eat jelly-filled cookies (mmm....hamentaschen), have a few l'chaims with friends, and just have fun. Though, I do have to admit that I will greatly be missing the Purim day festivities at Bais Abe, home of the cutest children and most wonderful families. But I got my seuda van crew, so I can't really complain.
I know what I'm dressing up as, but I'll give you two (2) choices for this survey:
1) What do you think I should dress up as?
2) What are you wearing?
I love this chag. It's just so much fun to run around in silly costumes (and mine's fairly silly this year), eat jelly-filled cookies (mmm....hamentaschen), have a few l'chaims with friends, and just have fun. Though, I do have to admit that I will greatly be missing the Purim day festivities at Bais Abe, home of the cutest children and most wonderful families. But I got my seuda van crew, so I can't really complain.
I know what I'm dressing up as, but I'll give you two (2) choices for this survey:
1) What do you think I should dress up as?
2) What are you wearing?
Tuesday, March 02, 2004
And You Said It Couldn't Be Done!
Ok, maybe I said that...
Either way, I managed to accomplish a few things today, before 8:00am:
1) I went jogging
2) I ate breakfast
3) I showered
4) I made it out the door 10 minutes earlier than usual.
Now, the showering part I do regularly. But #1,2, and 4? I can't remember the last time I did those.
Now for today's real challenge: Becky promised me a truffle if I drank 64 oz of water today. As soon as I finish my coffee, let the challenge begin!
Either way, I managed to accomplish a few things today, before 8:00am:
1) I went jogging
2) I ate breakfast
3) I showered
4) I made it out the door 10 minutes earlier than usual.
Now, the showering part I do regularly. But #1,2, and 4? I can't remember the last time I did those.
Now for today's real challenge: Becky promised me a truffle if I drank 64 oz of water today. As soon as I finish my coffee, let the challenge begin!
Monday, March 01, 2004
"Excuse me, sir...Did you drop your shoe?"
In conversation with Becky today, the phrase "waiting for the other shoe to drop" came up, and it started me thinking. Whose shoe is it? Why is he dropping it? And why are we waiting for him to drop it?
I Googled the phrase, hoping to find the answers to these vital questions. Alas, I could not find them. I found the alleged origin of the phrase (although even this is unconfirmed), but it still doesn't tell me whose shoe has been dropped. Or even what happened after he dropped the first one.
So many questions...
I Googled the phrase, hoping to find the answers to these vital questions. Alas, I could not find them. I found the alleged origin of the phrase (although even this is unconfirmed), but it still doesn't tell me whose shoe has been dropped. Or even what happened after he dropped the first one.
So many questions...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)