Why To Not Trust Everything You Read

The wedding dress guy on eBay is a bit of a fibber...


Of course, you can always trust everything you read here. I just said so, so it must be true.

Well, It Is Friday...

...and that means quizzes!





Take the What High School
Stereotype Are You? quiz.



Not that far off, really. Except that I knew they were laughing at me. The last laugh shall be mine though...I got cool in college. And I never gained the Freshman 15. Bring on the reunions!

Mandatory Volunteering

Sunday is Israel Solidarity here in Chi-town and, as one of the myriad employees of Federation and its support agencies, I have the responsibility of helping out. My assignment: to be at McCormick Place at 7:30 am, wearing my bright red STAFF shirt, answer questions, and make sure people are having a good time.

I probably shouldn't complain about that. But I'm going to anyway. I'm obligated to wake up really early (at least 5:45, so that I can hit snooze, get out of bed, get dressed, and catch a bus at 6:20, since I have no automobile) on a Sunday, to work for another 8 hours.

It's not that I have any issue with Israel Solidarity Day itself. It's a great day. Everyone should come. We'll have Israeli food, Israeli merchants, a big pro-Israel rally, all sorts of good stuff.

I guess what it comes down to is me being a bit selfish. I had a fabulous weekend last weekend. For the first time in ages, I got to go play with a great bunch of people. And I want to go play again. Except that I really can't (or shouldn't?), because I have to wake up so early, on a day that's normally dedicated to me-time.

I guess I'll just have to go play some other time. But for now, I'm going to pout.

I Found Him!

Schmavis told me over Shabbos that he has a blog. It's right here.

Schmavis, having now been added to the growing list of Bloggers R'Us, consider yourself officially welcomed to my world.

It doesn't actually mean anything. You were already here anyway. But it seemed like a nice thing to say.

L.O.L.

This is one of the funniest things I have read in a very long time. Do yourself a favor, and click the link. Be sure to read all the way to the bottom.
Gotta love eBay.

Office Etiquette 102

Normally, I like my coffee the way I like my men...straight. (Quick Quiz: From what movie did I take, and alter, that line?) But this is only then the coffee is good coffee, or even moderately palatable. Now, as I said in lesson 101, office coffee usually tastes bad. This means it does qualify as even moderately palatable, and is therefore in need of taste enhancers, a.k.a. cream (or non-dairy creamer which somehow is still dairy) and sugar.

In an office setting, many people use the taste enhancers. This means that when something runs low, it is the responsibility of the last enhancement-user to replace the enhancer in question. In my office, this responsibility seems to always fall on this blog, despite the fact that it's usually someone else who finishes off the sugar packets. This requires this blog (who is one of the shortest in the office, always wearing a skirt, and usually in high heels) to climb on an unsteady chair, haul down a heavy box of sugar packets, fill up the sugar packet repository, replace the box, and climb down. All without inflicting bodily harm.

I tried simply not refilling the sugar packet repository once. I guess no one got the memo that I was making a statement. All that happened was that no one else filled it either, and I had to climb up just to get sugar for myself.

I'll Show You An Inside Joke!

You rock, Paco. Next time you're in Chicago, we'll go throw some Skittles at random people. I'll wear the leopard print skirt and Dark Crystal shirt. You can wear jeans. We'll have fun.

It's The Thought That Counts, Right? Right?!

**Warning: If the mention of blood makes you queasy, don't read this**


I went to donate blood yesterday after work. It's something I try to do as often as possible (every 8 weeks or so), but hasn't happened in quite a while. Either I've been sick, or my iron count was too low, or some other obstacle got in the way of me shedding a pint or so of blood. (If it's my blood, why can't I give it away whenever I want to? Oh well. Back to the story...)

Last night, I was in perfect physical condition for donating. Great. I was thrilled. It's been about 8 months since I've been able to donate, and I was horrified at the idea of having to wait even longer. But nope, this time I was A.O.K.

Until the woman drawing my blood messed up. She stuck the needle in my arm at a bad angle, so the blood wasn't coming fast enough to suit her. So she wiggled it around a bit, which does not feel pleasant, hoping for a better draw. This didn't work either. All it accomplished was me spraying blood all over the place. But instead of pulling out of that arm and using the other, she decided to wait, until it got to the point where my blood clotted (darn those natural reactions!) and would not flow anymore. The problem is that by that point, she'd already collected 36 grams of my blood, which is over their self-imposed limit for switching arms. So I couldn't give anymore.

I asked when I could donate again, thinking that if I didn't give a full pint, I wouldn't have to wait 8 whole weeks. Nope...I have to wait 8 more weeks. Again. So I went out of my way to donate blood, and wasn't able to, through no fault of my own.

I consoled myself by buying three posters at a nearby store: one Fraggle Rock, one Muppets, and one Van Gogh. I don't think the real frustration hit me until I got home, though. I was feeling a bit disgruntled, despite to acquisition of a Fraggle Rock poster, and wanted to have a glass of wine with dinner. Except that you're not supposed to drink after donating blood. Or even "donating" blood, in my case.

Now that's just cruel.

Yom Ha'atzmaut

56 years ago today, the British mandate over Palestine expired. On that day, Israel declared its independence, and called upon the United Nations to honor its November 29, 1947 declaration, which recognized the Jewish people's right to live in their homeland under their own sovereignity.

56 years ago tomorrow, the seven nations of the Arab league attacked us, with the intention of wiping out our fledgling state.Anyone who says this war started in 2000 is deluding themselves, willingly or otherwise. This war started 56 years ago, and has claimed over 21,000 Jewish lives.

56 years of Arabs trying to destroy us and wipe out our state. 56 years of shootings, bombings, organized strikes and guerilla attacks. 56 years of the rest of the world blaming us for refusing to simply give up and let ourselves be killed.

We're still here.

And, 56 years from now, I intend to say the exact same thing.

Weekend Report

This blog had an absolutely fantabulous weekend, and would like to thank the following:

Becky and Velvel for hosting an amazing shabbos dinner. It was a wonderful way to spend the first few hours of my birthday.

Bryan for hosting an equally lovely shabbos lunch.

Wops, Sarah, and Elliott for making the trek from WRP to share in the shabbos fun.

Donny and Eli's respective parental units for having children around this time of year, thereby producing Donny and Eli, thereby giving us more birthdays to celebrate this weekend.

All my wonderful friends, and those who were actually there to play with Donny and Eli, but were nice enough to include me as well for making this the best birthday I've had in a very, very long time. This was, quite possibly, the best...birthday...ever. (You gotta imagine that last sentence in a Comic Book Guy voice)


My out-of-state friends for not forgetting, and leaving me phone messages. A particular mention is needed for Mikey, Allan, and Uri for actually calling on Friday, in recognition of my birthday falling on shabbos. Allan should actually get two "thank you" mentions and a big electronic hug, for calling twice and singing to me. Although he'll probably now kill me for posting that last part.

And for anyone who is curious, I felt perfectly fine Sunday morning, thank you very much. Actually, I amend that. I felt great.

Vocabulary Lesson

Courtesy of my friend Jenny: (With a little bit of editing by Yours Truly)


BLAMESTORMING: Sitting around in a group, discussing why a deadline was missed or a project failed, and who was responsible.

SEAGULL MANAGER: A manager, who flies in, makes a lot of noise, craps on everything, and then leaves.

ASSMOSIS: The process by which some people seem to absorb success and advancement by kissing up to the boss rather than working hard.

CUBE FARM: An office filled with cubicles.

PRAIRIE DOGGING: When someone yells or drops something loudly in a cube farm, and people's heads pop up over the walls to see what's going on.

MOUSE POTATO: The on-line, wired generation's answer to the couch potato.

SITCOMs: Single Income, Two Children, Oppressive Mortgage. What yuppies turn into when they have children and one of them stops working to stay home with the kids.

STRESS PUPPY: A person who seems to thrive on being stressed out and whiney.

IRRITAINMENT: Entertainment and media spectacles that are annoying but you find yourself unable to stop watching them. The O.J. trials were a prime example.

PERCUSSIVE MAINTENANCE: The fine art of whacking the crap out of an electronic device to get it to work again.

ADMINISPHERE: The rarefied organizational layers beginning just above the rank and file. Decisions that fall from the adminisphere are often profoundly inappropriate or irrelevant to the problems they were designed to solve.

404: Someone who's clueless. From the World Wide Web error message "404 Not Found," meaning that the requested document could not be located.

GENERICA: Features of the American landscape that are exactly the same no matter where one is, such as fast food joints, strip malls, subdivisions...

OHNOSECOND: That minuscule fraction of time in which you realize that you've just made a BIG mistake.

A Taste Of Tomorrow

I couldn't wait. I'm so weak. Wait, no I'm not! I'm...

The Cap'n!

Some men are born great, some achieve greatness and some slit the throats of any man that stands between them and the mantle of power. You never met a man you couldn't eviscerate. Not that mindless violence is the only avenue open to you - but why take an avenue when you have complete freeway access? You are the definitive Man of Action. You are James Bond in a blousy shirt and drawstring-fly pants. Your swash was buckled long ago and you have never been so sure of anything in your life as in your ability to bend everyone to your will. You will call anyone out and cut off their head if they show any sign of taking you on or backing down. You cannot be saddled with tedious underlings, but if one of your lieutenants shows an overly developed sense of ambition he may find more suitable accommodations in Davy Jones' locker. That is, of course, IF you notice him. You tend to be self absorbed - a weakness that may keep you from seeing enemies where they are and imagining them where they are not.

What's Yer Inner Pirate?
brought to you by The Official Talk Like A Pirate Web Site. Arrrrr!

What Day Is It?

Seems like a simple question, right? I mean there are only seven choices. I'm typing, so it's clearly not shabbos. I'm in my office, so it's clearly not Sunday. Down to five choices, so why the confusion?

Well, Prodly says it's "Earth Day." MOChassid says it's "Schlep Your Dopey Kid To Work Day," formerly known as "Bring Your Kid To Work Day." That's a lot going on at once. I don't have time in my day for all of this.

This brings me to the real purpose of this post...banning "Schlep Your Kid to Work Day." As MOChassid reminds us, it used to be about taking your girl children to work with you, to teach them that girls are allowed to be as career-driven, materialistic, and ambitious as boys. Now we teach all children to be this way. However, despite my reservations about what we're teaching the next generation, this is not really my objection. "Schlep Your Kid To Work Day" discriminates against people who don't have children. Should I be penalized because I have not yet gotten married? You think nice Jewish girls need more of this pressure? Why can't I just bring my cat instead?

Oh, the unfairness of it all.

Why I Should Never Use Spellcheckers

Blogspot offers a spellchecker, which is very nice of them. Thank you.

But they forgot to teach it Yiddish. I had the word "schmoozed" (and spelled properly, I might add), but the spellchecker wanted to replace it with "Schenectady." What was it thinking?

I Don't Think I've Been Drinking...

Ever seen a trolley full of people dressed like bananas?

I just did.

I was walking back from my almost-daily "Coffee with Becky" break (for those new to my blog, Becky is the lovely wife of fellow blogger Velvel. We're all one big happy family here), and I noticed the doors of a not-yet-open-for-business smoothie place standing wide open.

Suddenly, a stream of perhaps 15 people dressed like giant bananas came from deep within the inner recesses of this smoothie joint, and filed into the trolley waiting at the corner. The trolley then proceeded to travel slowly down the street, while the giant bananas schmoozed and I laughed.

Meet The Management

As this blog finds itself appearing on other blogs lists, it has come to our attention here at Cara's World that this blog is lacking a true introductory post. And so here we go...

Q: Who runs this show?
A: I do.

Q: Who are you?
A: I'm Cara. I'm a nice little Jewish girl living in Chicago. The short one with the dark curly hair.

Q: Why do you get to have your own world?
A: I'm special. My mommy says so. That, and I'm a lemming. Long ago (3-4 months maybe), my buddy Adi started his blog. It seemed cool. And I thought: I amuse myself. Other people sometimes find my thoughts amusing. Why not share my insights, and try to take over the world while I'm at it?
And there was evening and there was morning. The first post.

Q: What's with the Fraggles?
A: I'm a Fraggle Rocker. I dance my cares away. But only when no one is watching. That's really the best answer I can give you.

Q: What's the air speed velocity of a coconut-laden swallow?
A: African or European?


Any more questions? Ask, and they shall be answered! Maybe. If I feel like it.

Service Announcement

Please note the addition of "Protocols" to the list of blogs. It's like the barley in the vast cholent sea of Jewish bloggers...it holds us all together and somehow makes us seem more substantial.


And what do I add to this cholent? I like to think that I'm the bourbon (and not just because it's my alcohol of choice): You might not think of adding bourbon, unless you happen to be Velvel. In fact, you might think it's a horrible idea. Yet, once it's there, you realize that it adds a spicy, sweet and sometimes slightly nutty flavor all its own.

That Skirt Looks Familiar...

Last night, after this blog got home from wherever I chose to spend a portion of my evening, my maternal unit approaches me with a skirt she'd recently purchased from the resale shop, owned by one of the local day schools, where she volunteers once a month.
"Blog," the maternal unit says, "do you like this skirt? I was thinking we could share it."
This blog looks at the skirt and happens to catch sight of the brand.
"That's funny!" the blog replies. "I already have the same one! Same size, same brand, same skirt!"

Amused, this blog then begins to search her closet, so she can show her maternal unit her perfectly matching skirt. Except that this blog's skirt is missing. It's not in the closet. Not in the laundry. Not hanging in the bathroom, where this blog finally remembered having left it hanging, after trying to get out a faint red pen mark.

With a nagging suspicion, this blog takes another look at her maternal unit's new purchase. And lo and behold! There is a faint red pen mark in the exact same spot!

"Maternal unit," this blog says, "I think you donated my skirt to the resale shop...and then bought it back for yourself."



Sure enough. Mystery solved. But at least I have my skirt back.

My MO (and I'm not talking "Law & Order")

As I rule, I stay out of the more "theological" debates (for lack of a better term) often engaged in by my fellow bloggers Velvel and Prodly. After all, they get into enough arguments with other people as is. Why fan the flames? Despite my tendency to liberally lace my blog with Yiddish and Hebrew words, I don't feel the need to defend my place in the wide world of Jewish Bloggers.

Yet, I now do have something to defend: my shul. Whatever its other pros and cons, strengths and weaknesses may be, it has always done Seudah Shlishit (or Shalosh Seudos, if you so prefer) well. MOChassid laments the loss of singing, divrei Torah, and camaraderie at Shalosh Seudos in the "MO movement." Maybe this is true in NY's MO shuls, and Shalosh Seudos has become something else entirely there. Maybe this is also true in other shuls here in Chicago. But not in Velvel's and my shul, where there is always camaraderie, always singing, and usually Torah (and I do not just say this because the Torah is often coming out of my mouth).

To MOChassid, I give a hearty kol hakavod, because he seems to truly care about Klal Yisroel, and truly wants to increase the kedushat Hashem in this world. Yet, before speaking about the state of affairs in the MO world outside of NY, I suggest he comes and visits for a shabbos. Velvel makes one hell of a cholent.

Don't Quit Your Day Job

A secret inside tip (thanks, Erica!) clued this blog in to the secret world of Imaginary Girlfriends. It seemed like it could be a harmless side job, albeit a little pathetic, as these girls are little more than penpals-for-hire.

Or are they more? Think about it...
These girls accept money to make a guy feel like a man. They say whatever the guy needs to hear. They enable the guy to lie and brag to his buddies on poker night. Key quote from the website: "Need a confidence boost? Just feeling lonely sometimes?"

Imaginary girlfriends, or prostitutes in disguise?
We report, you decide.

Breaking News: Cartoon Mouse Lived in Sin

The Cara's World News Team brings you this important update on the life and times of the cartoon poster-child known as "Mickey Mouse," as first printed in today's NY Times:


"So, sometime in the mid- to late 1930's, Mickey settled down. Barnyard cohorts and rail-riding adventures gave way to suburban domesticity with his non-wife Minnie ("They just lived together as friends," said Mr. Smith. "For a very long time") and their unexplained nephews."


Nephews? Riiiiight.

Doh!

Did you count the Homer today?

Beware My Mental Powers

World Takeover is only a matter of time...



:: Think Your Lightsaber's Bigger Than Mine?::

(Side comment: This totally makes up for both the Nickelodeon quiz AND the Movie quiz.)

Happy Happy! Joy Joy! #7

Cara's World hereby wishes a most hearty mazel tov! to fellow blogger Velvel on the birth of his newest niece. Since it's his family's simcha, feel free to visit his blog for more details. May she grow to Torah, chuppah (hey, she's a day old, time to get that girl a husband already!), and ma'asim tovim.

On a somewhat related note, I wish to remark that the Human Resources department always makes announcements of this nature by informing us employees of the birth of "bouncing" baby boys and girls. This is disgusting. Babies don't bounce this early in life, unless you wrap them in rubber and drop them. And I don't want Human Resources telling me about parents who do that to their children before they're three.

Spam, Spam, Baked Beans, Eggs, and Spam

After a lovely chag, it's time to resume my normal routine and go to work. So be it. Such is life. At least I can start my morning with Starbucks caffeine again. (and a free grande Starbucks caffeine, since my maternal unit gave me a coupon. She loves me.)

So I get to my office, reminding myself that it's not actually Monday, and I boot up my computer. I check my direct e-mail account. 14 messages. That's pretty mild, given that I was out of the office for 2 days. And given that the office was closed. Then I check the general, open-to-the-public e-mail account.

777 unread messages.

And about 765 of them were spam or virus-infected. This is clearly unnecessary. I think it would be a lot more efficient to combine these unwanted messages, and have the sex-related e-mails be the same ones that transmit viruses. If that's how real life viruses are transmitted, why not transmit virtual viruses in a parallel manner?

Happy Happy! Joy Joy! #6

Happy Birthday To You!
Happy Birthday To You!
Happy Birthday Dear Big Brother!
Happy Birthday To You!

Have a fantabulous birthday! I love you lots and lots.

Note: This is for my big brother. Not "Big Brother."

Cotton Candy and Potato Kugel?

Today's NYTimes had an article today about the lastest Ringling Brothers' Circus, held yesterday in Madison Square Garden.

It was kosher l'Pesach, tznius, and the band played 'Dayenu.' The whole thing was put on for an audience of 19,000 frum Yids from all over the NYC and NJ area. Why? Because it's Chol HaMoed Pesach, and we're supposed to be joyous.

That's one of the coolest things I've ever heard. How come we don't do things like that in this city? I want cotton candy, too! Not that I'm complaining about my yogurt and cottage cheese, but still...

Did Ya Miss Me?

Probably not, since most of my loyal minions...er, fans, were most likely away from their computers for the same reason I was: That Matzah-crunching, macaroon-eating, peanut-free week of craziness we like to call Pesach, or the "Can't I Just Have Some Corn Syrup?" Festival of Joy.

We actually had a lovely yontiv here in Cara's World. A very international one, with guests from Canadia, Costa Rica, and Switzerland. I haven't heard that much German in my parent's home in years. This has always been the time of year for it, though, since my mother and grandmother would slip into German to keep me from knowing what I was getting for my birthday.

But I digress. Which I am completely entitled to do, since this is my blog. But now that I am back at my computer, reminding myself that it is Thursday, and not Monday, I can go search for something more entertaining than matzah to rant about. Veitur!

Nooooooooooooo!

You are YOU CAN'T DO THAT ON TELEVISION.
Sometimes, you wonder why you couldn't just be
Canadian. Some people say you are weird. You
have an interesting sense of humor and a
meaningless life. But, you're nearly Canadian,
so did you expect better?

Which old school Nickelodeon show are you?
brought to you by Quizilla


Nearly Canadian?
I need to go cry now.

If This Weren't So Funny, I'd Be Ashamed to Post It

Power Rangers Movie!

What movie Do you Belong in?(many different outcomes!)
brought to you by Quizilla

Oh, the shame of it! But I promise you, I'm NOT the Pink Ranger. Or the Yellow one. Neither of the girls. Not that I know who any of the characters are. Of course not. Oh, just go away.

Thanks Daddy!

I knew I wasn't the child of an English teacher for nothing:
Me speak English more better than you!


You are a GRAMMAR GOD!

If your mission in life is not already to
preserve the English tongue, it should be.
Congratulations and thank you!

Bow before me! Or take the quiz yourself...
brought to you by Quizilla

Ok, preserving the English tongue isn't really my mission in life. But perhaps I can incorporate it into one of the later stages of my world takeover.

It's Friday! That Means...

...Quiz Day!!!

(all quizzes can be found at Prodly's House of Fun, Games, and Procrastination)

No Joke

There's an article in today's Jerusalem post about Google. Apparently, the first site that comes up if you search for "Jew" is an anti-Semitic site.

There's a movement among Jewish bloggers to change that number one hit to Wikipedia's entry for "Jew" so that those googling for information will actually get something academic and informational, instead of some hatemongering bullsh*t.

Jewish bloggers, unite! All it takes is putting another link onto your site.

I'M ENGAGED!!

Just kidding...April Fool's!