Not Chosen, Just Posin'

I just got a job with a Jewish magazine. I'm not Jewish. They think I am.


Wednesday, October 18, 2006


Last night I made the mistake of going out for drinks after work. One of the girls I work with got a raise and a promotion, so we went to celebrate. The Publisher (who was only on a day trip, not to Detroit as I originally suspected/hoped) came along and bought the first round.

I felt horrible all day yesterday and ate Aspirin for lunch, so my blood was thin and was, or was not, ready for the alcohol, depending on how you view the situation. I ordered a gin rocks (you know, to keep it light) and the others ordered their respective drinks. Everyone, that is, except OrthoJew, who, instead decided to drill the bartender about kosher alcohol. The bartender had no clue what was kosher or not and was clearly annoyed. He replied something along the lines of, "This is your religion, not mine. You should know this stuff." I blatantly tipped him a few bucks extra after that.

"I do know this stuff," she said. "I just don't want beer right now and don't feel like drinking vodka. You should have at least one bottle of kosher wine around, don't you think?"

"Sure," he said, and walked away.

As if to make some kind of a point, OrthoJew didn't order anything, not even a water. She just sat there and sulked. I don't know if this makes her an annoying attention-seeker or just self-righteous. Whatever point she was trying to make was not made, and an effect of her not making said point, peoples' spirits were dragged down, albeit temporarily, of course.

Anyhow, I ignored her, finished my drink and ordered a "Bloody Maria," a drink which sounds a lot more dainty than it is. It's a Bloody Mary with tequilla instead of vodka for those of you who don't speak Spanish. I rarely order these, but tend to do so when I'm sick due to their perceived nutritional value. Similar to drinking a V-8, or so I like to believe.

Usually I can drink a lot more than this, but I don't even remember going to bed last night. I woke up feeling horrible, but not in the same way I have been the last couple of days. I felt/feel hungover. From two drinks. The feeling actually reminded me of something my dad used to say when I complained about pain (for instance, if I had a stomach ache): "Well if you want, I'll punch you in the face and that will make you forget about your stomach ache." I guess it's true. My hangover is the equivalent of getting punched in the face to forget about my flu, or whatever it is that I have.

Someone should have punched OrthoJew last night to make her forget about whatever it was that was ailing her. I mean that in a nice way, of course.

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