Thanks for the emails. I'm in South America and I'll be back December 4th, which is one Manwhore Monday from today. In honor of the Manwhore, I have being doing some research on a new workout regimen that even puts the JAP workout to shame.

I gave the Manwhore a heads up about the talent down here and now he keeps on texting me to make sure I'm taking pictures for his "documentary." At $3.00 per text I'll have to keep him waiting.

Talk to you next MM...

(Oh yeah, sign up for my spam list to the right)

I'll be back soon.

Since I'll be gone for the next ten or eleven days, I am going to post a few things that I am thankful (Get it? Thanksgiving? Thankful? har har) to be taking a break from...

Like the fact that my friend Aaron, of the Go-To Group of Jewish friends, conned me out of telling him my salary the other day, then responded, "Yeah, that's really bad. My sister works at a Jewish magazine in D.C. and makes twice as much."

Or about OrthoJew's new and obnoxious habit. We have bathroom keys in these parts (because we share with another office). Whenever the women's key is gone, she screams, "Who has the bathroom key?!" Umm, my guess is that the person who's in the bathroom has it. Idiot.

[OrthoJew just walked in to ask me a question as I was writing this. At least she wasn't asking about the bathroom key though.]

Then there's the Publisher's Wife's new "I'm such a benevolent (and did I mention humble?) human being" campaign. She's let out a couple mentions of the kind deeds she's done lately. 1). "My nephew needed new shoes so I asked his mom what size he wears and got him some. I mean, what's $50?" 2). "You know, there was a guy on the street yesterday who just looked horrible, so I slipped him a $20. It felt so good and what was even better, is that I didn't feel the need to tell anyone. I just kept it to myself."

And speaking of thanksgiving, I got this email (and subsequent confession of Manwhore love) last night:

I have 2 good questions for you -

1) Why don't Orthodox Jews celebrate Thanksgiving? There's a guy my husband works with that is Orthodox and he says they don't.

2) What's the difference between Orthodox and Hasidic Jews? My husband & I have been debating this and I figured that you would get a lot of good communication back and forth on your site with these 2 questions.

If you're looking around for something to post about, you might consider these questions.

Also, I was the anonymous who was hot after the Manwhore.

Manwhore, wherever you are: Did you hear that?

Jewbiquitous has a good discussion of Jews and Thanksgiving on their site today. I'd say that's a good place to start...

Size Matters.

Yesterday the controller bought everyone lunch in celebration of his birthday (and this time he actually allowed the Publisher's Wife to partake).

The unofficial birthday game at our office consists of pretending that we care about the birthday boy/girl at hand. We do this by asking questions such as, What is your favorite memory from the past year? What do you want to do differently this coming year? What has been your favorite moment at the Unidentified Jewish Magazine?

The controller, as annoying as he usually is, truly does not get enough credit for his outstanding comedic timing. In answer to What is your favorite memory from the past year? our hero answered, "Before I came here, I was working at [redacted] magazine. There was a sales guy there who was bringin' in a million dollars a year and skimmin' $50,000 for himself."

"Did the Publisher know?" asked the Publisher's Wife with a sense of urgency, as if the pending answer would have the ability to legitimize her decision to fire two account executives in the last four months.

"Hell yes he knew. But did he care? No! What's he gonna do—fire a guy who puts $950,000 in his pocket every year? I mean, the publisher's not stupid."

The Publisher's Wife, sticking up for her own actions in a self-righteous sort of way, replied, "It doesn't matter, you have to teach him a lesson!"

The controller just chuckled. "Whatever."

He never did get around to telling us what his favorite memory was. Maybe he was in on the money laundering. Who knows? At least I know what my favorite memory is now: Watching the Publisher's Wife wallow in her own stupidity.

The Jesus Paradox

All the time I spent on this image was evidently for naught since you can't read it.

This is my little Jesus venn diagram. Everyone should have one, really.

So, the reason I did this was because when I was young, I asked my mom what

the difference between Jews and Catholics was (for whatever reason). Her answer? "We believe in Jesus and Jews just think he was a very nice man."

If any one sentence can effectively illustrate my background coming into this job, that's gonna have to be it.

And that brings me to my Jesus Paradox.

Left:

Jesus was Jewish

Jews Want Nothing to do With Him

Right:

Jesus was Jewish

Christians Can't Get Enough of the Guy

And, in the middle is the common ground (otherwise known as the 'pit into which the leftovers are thrown'):

Jews for Jesus

"The Jesus Paradox" is the name of my second chapter. I think I'll include this glorious image. If anything, it's because I'm really into the little pictures. If anyone would like to expand upon the background that has led up to my diagram, please do so (or not).

Manwhore Mondays.

I’ve officially succumbed to giving the Manwhore his own day. This is not because he wants his own day (although his pompous ass really does – he thinks this might be his new favorite dating site due to a comment left here for him last week), but more so because I usually hang out with him on the weekends and he always does something noteworthy that I feel obligated to report. More importantly though, Monday starts with an ‘M’ and so does Manwhore. This is a compelling fact in and of itself, and can not be overlooked.

So, to recap, in last week’s Manwhore Monday I reported that the Israeli girl broke up with him when she realized that his nickname was rooted in truth. What does this mean?

Is the Manwhore devastated about the break up?
Sure -- why not? He liked sleeping with her.

Will he be able to move on?
He already has. I had the pleasure of watching him make out with a Puerto Rican chick at his brother’s birthday party the other night. On the couch. On the chair. At the kitchen table. It was very Manwhore-esque, to say the least. (The Manwhore has introduced a new group of adjectives to the lexicon: Manwhore-esque, Manwhore-ish, Manwhore-like, Manwhore-iffic)

Will he continue practicing Judaism???
Nope. He’s already dropped us (you) like a sack of papas calientes. He’s now a Catholic Puerto Rican guy. But don’t fret. This might be a good thing. When I initially met the Manwhore, he was a Catholic Puerto Rican (I actually thought he was Puerto Rican although sources have told me he’s not—none of us know for sure what his true origins are). This could definitely be a cyclical process. I forgot what he was after he was Puerto Rican. I think there were a few different cultures/religions/nations between Puerto Rico and Israel, but I’m sure he’ll be back soon.

In honor of Puerto Rico, let’s pay quick homage to the Manwhore’s first Puerto Rican playmate. She was a dancer down at a club called Tantra in Miami and he wasn’t in it for her brains. For instance, when one weekend he imported* her up here to hang out, we all went out to dinner and to some clubs (where she got hit on by more girls than any of us did) and she couldn’t stop dancing. Any sign of music, and there she was, bouncing around. At first, we just went with it based on the assumption that it was no more than a tacky bi-product of working in her industry. Finally, the people at the table next to us started singing “Happy Birthday” and she started dancing in her chair to the sounds of the song's funky, hypnotic melodies. The Manwhore treated her so poorly afterwards that we all actually felt sorry for her. Hopefully Puerto Rico: The Sequel will be a better match.


*His word, not mine. The Manwhore talks about women the same way he talks about buying products in bulk. I’m sure the correlation is clear.

The Publisher is taking it to the streets.

On Wednesday, the Publisher asked the Silent Designer and me to "give it to him straight." He knew we were behind deadline, but he wanted to know just how far behind we were.

"You know I'm usually all business, but when it comes to this, I have to take it to the street."

Remember, he's from the streets of Israel, not Compton as it might seem. I think he's adopted a vision of an Americanized, hip hop ghetto in order to relate to Americans who may not be familiar with the the ghettos of Tel Aviv or wherever. Still, I don't know how effective it would be to take a Jewish magazine "to the street," in effort to finish a few articles and design its cover.

Here I am, sitting, trying my damndest to keep a straight face as The Publisher effortlessly uses "street" as a noun and an adjective:

"I am street."
"Takin' it to the street..."
"If I have to get street to get this done, then that's what I'll have to do."

"Because when I was young and I got locked out of the house, I knew I had to climb to the second story window that my mom had left open for me. That's how it works on the street."

Actually, that's kind of how it works everywhere. Just the other night, in fact, I had to climb the fire escape due to the same error. Maybe I'm street too? I thought about asking him, just as I thought about complimenting him on his bright white golf, errr, street shoes.

(Meanwhile, back at the culdesac...)

This has left the Silent Designer and I with an enviable inside joke. For instance, I asked OrthoJew how she was coming on an article. "It's okay," she responded. "Okay? By 'okay' do you mean that we need to take it to the streets?" I asked her in all seriousness. She was not amused, but the Silent Designer and I sure as hell were.

I'm inventing my own new stereotype. No disclaimers, no apologies, just a new stereotype based on my observations of the girls I work with. Granted, this stereotype only applies to the variety who originated on the East Coast or Chicago. That is to say, the Israeli Girl is the only one not under scrutiny.

When the girls at my office want to thank someone for doing something, they say it like this:

"Thank you soooooooo much."

Why is this?

The conviction with which they thank me for doing something as simple as forwarding an email, would make one think I saved a life or even more, helped them move to a new apartment on my day off. I'm all for a little appreciation, but it's kind of weird and definitely not that deep. So there you have it. My new stereotype.

P.S. I know that my images are getting sloppier every day. I suck.

Ever since I heard the phrase "Frummer than thou," I've wanted to start a regular section called, "Vocabulary words and phrases that might be second nature to you, but are new to me." So, I am.

Yes, I know, I know - I always say that I'm starting regular sections and I never do.

Now, this might not be interesting to you because, like I said, these words are already a part of your vernacular. It would be like me watching someone get really excited upon learning about the word guido. Woohoo. Real exciting. So, to make it just a tad bit more entertaining, think of me as a baby who is discovering a whole new world. No, actually, that's kind of weird. Well, I would advise you to think of it as an anthropological study that I'm taking part in, but that makes it seem like I'm some defunct scientist studying a different species. Plus, I'd be incriminating myself of ignorance. I may as well just admit as much. I'm ignorant and ignorance truly is bliss. On that note, I guess I just don't have a good metaphor for you and I'll just have to accept the fact that this is a boring new regular section. That said, today's word is:

Jewfro

My friend Gavi, the Dreaded Meshugeneh,* recently introduced me to the word and I must say, I'm a huge fan...of both the word and the hairstyle. To see the Jewfro in its natural habitat., go here.

*This will be my new vocab word once I figure out what it means.

With skills like these, I might just apply for a graphic designer position.

So yesterday, on the way to the photographer's studio, the Other Designer* and I rode with the Publisher's Wife and her two annoying daughters. I don't know why they weren't in school and I don't dare ask questions (often because I think my explanations are way more entertaining).

Anyway, there were some school children walking outside the car with backpacks on, a fact that one of the annoying daughters noticed as well.

"Mom, why are they wearing backpacks?"

Seriously, I don't know where this question came from, nor do I know where this answer from the Other Designer originated:

"They're carrying marijuana in them."

The Publisher's Wife huffed, "There are kids in the car."

It was a statement of the obvious, for sure, but we knew what she meant: "What the hell are you saying in front of my kids, you sick bastard?"

Here, in a stroke of irony that I couldn't have planned better myself, the Publisher's Wife hears a song playing faintly on the radio. "Shhh! Shhh!" she declares as she turns it up. "I love this song!"

I'm in love with Mary Jane.
She's my main thing.
She makes me feel alright.
She makes my heart sing.

She sang along. Who would have thought the Publisher's Wife liked Rick James? I didn't even think she liked music. We might have a classic case of "closet freakiness" here (or maybe I'm just exhibiting a classic case of "my explanation is better than reality"). I imagine it's the latter.




*The reason he is called the "Other" Designer is because he's not the Silent Designer and there just aren't really any notable qualities about him besides the fact that , for a brief period of time, he was a complete ass-kisser. That time has passed.

50 Shekel? Huh?

I thought this was a joke until I just read a legitimate article about him. I'd never even heard of him until he joined Jews for Jesus and dropped his hip name. Some celebrities get more attention after they die; I guess that's the case here.

Anyone? Well, I don't really care, but still...

Update: Just found out he's signed with Hebrew Homie records. And here's his MySpace page. Oy vay.

I have tons to tell you in little time. I'm going to be in and out of the office today doing some photo shoot with my photographer friend. You might remember him as the guy who the Publisher's Wife accused -- behind his back -- of being "in denial" about his sexuality. Anyway, he has nothing to do with this post.

I should warn you now, I am repeating an uncensored Manwhore monologue below. If you get offended easily, you should totally read it.

I brought the Silent Designer out with me and the Manwhore on Saturday night. The night catered to much enlightenment. First of all, the Silent Designer told me that he talked to SuperJew and that she might be coming back to the magazine. He still doesn't know that I know they are (were?) dating, so I mentioned how hot she is just to mess with him. He didn't so much as flinch.

This is huge and could mean a variety of things:

1). Someone is getting fired to make up for her arrival (OrthoJew?)
2). The Silent Designer and her broke up? (Remember: The Publisher has a policy against people in the office dating, which is why she left in the first place according to the Secretary Who Reeks of Cigarettes)
3). More presents. Remember those gift bags she gave us on her last day? She totally needs to win us back by doing something similar.

All speculation, of course. So, back to Saturday night. The Silent Designer showed up at my place to predrink before the Manwhore did. I briefed the Silent Designer on the Manwhore, as is pretty much necessary considering his oddities. I told him the truth: The Manwhore is pretending he's Jewish to sleep with an Israeli girl. No big deal. I laughed. The Silent Designer wasn't a big fan of this fact, and said as much, "How can any self-respecting Jewish man allow his friend to do such a thing?"

"Well, he's not planning to marry her, so I think it's funny. Plus, she's bisexual and even strippers don't want her. Oh yeah, pretty annoying too. The tribe could stand to let her go. She's not good for marketing."

Somehow this convinced the Silent Designer that the Manwhore's actions were okay. Especially considering that for all intents and purposes, this chick really isn't necessarily worth salvaging.

The Manwhore walked in right on cue. He's one of those guys that you just can't not like. He has tons of energy, is never in a bad mood and is consistently the life of the party. He's that guy who picks up girls at bars and throws them on his shoulders while he dances. He calls this move "jacking a girl up." In context: "I'm gonna jack up some girls tonight." One of his most famous moves is grabbing a girl's drink, taking a sip and handing it back to her before she even knows what happened. Somehow this is an effective conversation starter. Needless to say, the Silent Designer liked him immediately.

The Manwhore knows better than to blab about my situation. In fact, he finds the whole thing boring and not conversation-worthy, so I didn't have to worry about him opening his mouth about it. Honestly, unless the conversation is about girls or baseball, he's not interested. And this is what this post is about - a conversation with the Manwhore.

Evidently the Israeli girl broke up with him, citing "promiscuity" as the reason. She accused him of being too into threesomes and other things that respectable, uh-hem, girls like herself don't approve of.

Here was his defense (intended for her, not us, because we know better than to believe any of the following):

"First of all, I’m not 'all into threesomes.' I’ve only had one, and that was at the suggestion of these two crazy lesbians I was with. Seriously.

"Second, did it ever occur to you that I could be the one getting played? I mean all these girls come to me and are like, 'it’s my birthday; fuck me?' 'I really need to get laid; can you help?'; 'My boyfriend hasn’t had sex with me in 5 years; can you work my tight little box?'; and I’m all like, 'Well I guess Big Daddy would never let down a lady in distress -- wink, wink'; but afterward they go straight escort style on me, i.e., 'Thanks for everything -- laaaate!' So I think they’re the players."

It was the perfect scenario for the Silent Designer to be subjected to. "Manwhore 101" as far as I'm concerned. I don't know if the Silent Designer and SuperJew officially broke up, but if so, maybe the Manwhore made him a bit more excited about re-entering singledom.

Updates to come.

The Go-To Group of Jewish Friends Web Conference*

Rachel: You got a book deal? I can't believe it! I have been putting up with this for 26 years and no one has asked me to write about it! Just be cautious of how you put us out there...please...we have gotten enough shit lately.

Me: No, no - no book deal, just an agent. Don't worry, the book's going to be all Jewish love, which I think my site is. On the other hand, some girl asked if it is a "kinder, gentler form of anti-Semitism?" I was pretty annoyed by it, especially because I try to keep my posts more observational than accusatory.

Rachel: I am gonna be serious right now: One thing about the Jewish world is that we are really passionate about where we come from, and sometimes that comes through in overly-sensitive displays. I mean, there is a general opinion that we have this whole funny Woody Allen thing that we radiate, but you have to realize that, deep down, there is really still a terrible thing people still feel to the core. In our communities, we still have people who are living with the nightmare of the Holocaust and that is very real, and we have people who are living with those people....I mean, my boyfriend's mom is a child of survivors, and it paints EVERYTHING she does. You can't leave her house without a bag of just SHIT. She is constantly collecting and handing out crap that was given to her by her mom, out of genuine fear of the Nazis coming back.

I know it sounds ridiculous, but if you think about the fact that there are only 13 million Jews in the world, and what a large percentage of that population has either been a victim of Nazi or Arab terror (or is a direct decendent of either one), then you have a group of people who tend to be a little neurotic. So whereas we can be self-loathing or what have you, some of us have yet to get to the "laughing with us" phase. But the reason that I love your blog so much is that I have worked in the Jewish non-profit a lot, and I think that it is the funniest thing in the WHOLE WORLD. Oh, and you are a genius. You get what is so funny about people on the whole. So don't be upset, know that people have their shit, and that is just reality. Just don't make any penny jokes for awhile, ok?

Me: Whoa. All of that is understood, but I think I'm pretty tame. I can't be accused of or punished for any of this. This is not my fault.

Rachel: If I got too preachy in my last email, I apologize. I just wanted you to understand where the overzealous defensive nature of people like the chick who thought your blog is anti Semetic are coming from.

Me: No apologies necessary; I loved your last message and I'm very aware of where these types of reactions are coming from. Nevertheless, I still get annoyed. On a smaller scale, this type of reaction is the same thing as me getting into a new relationship and having the girl pissed at me and accusing me constantly of cheating just because her last boyfriend did it. Not fair. What's that line? 'I won't be punished for Adam's transgression?' Yeah, something like that.

Rachel: Very true. We Jews have big RELATIONSHIP issues. (Funny, because I was just speaking last night about how eerily similar Bush's reign is to Hitler's...)

But, take that girl's opinion as a compliment...any press is good press, and as you know, only the work of talented people have the possibility of stirring up some kind of controversy.

And there you have it. The series will continue regularly.

*Otherwise known as a chain of emails sent between me and Rachel.

This is what it looks like, except the Controller looks more like him:

Follow-ups to this week’s news:

The Fired Account Executive
More details into the fired account executive case have surfaced. Evidently the account executive was selling ads for the other magazine in question. In this case, I was completely wrong. I thought he was just practicing good business dealings. I hate to say that the Publisher’s Wife made a good decision, so I won’t. I’ll just imply it. She still said “non-disclosure agreement” when she meant “don’t sell advertisements to other magazine, dumbass” agreement.

Nobody puts OrthoJew in the Corner
The snoring controller who I told you about last week, and who constantly corners everyone at their desks when not sleeping, keeps on going up to OrthoJew and pretending he’s swimming. It's clear that she knows he’s there, but she doesn’t take her face off of the computer. Realizing that she “doesn’t notice him,” he starts waving his arms faster as if doggy paddling his way to victory. Getting more and more desperate for just a tiny hint of recognition, he starts doing the back stroke. It is beyond bizarre and completely hilarious. Why is he doing it? I guess this is his way of welcoming her back from Puerto Rico. Evidently swimming = Puerto Rico.

To be followed by a recent conversation with Rachel from the Go-To Group of Jewish Friends.

I have officially arrived... Err, according to AOL anyway.

Some people can be so gullible.

But more importantly, who's next in line for Reese? I'm sure as hell not.

Oh my.

The Publisher's Wife fired yet another account executive. Last time it was the girl who brought in six digits every couple months. This time it was a guy, and I have no idea how much he brought in, but the "My Husband is Banging the Account Executive Theory" is pretty much out. That's unfortunate. It's my personal favorite.

She called us into the conference room where she tried to act as if she was a rational human being and this was a legitimate corporation where business dealings are strategically planned out for the better good of the company:

"I thought I would call you in before the rumors start flying around. I had to let go of [Account Executive guy] last night. He was referring advertisers to other magazines, and as you know, that is against our non-disclosure agreement."*

Following this, she threw in a subtle threat so that we would all fear for our jobs and succumb to her "power."

"You were all required to sign these contracts when you started and we have a no tolerance policy when it comes to things like this."

As if we have policies. I signed no such contract.

After not a little investigation -- err, taking the Secretary Who Reeks of Cigarrettes for a drink after work last night and making her share her wealth of gossip with me -- I found out that the Publisher's Wife makes a habit of regularly checking our emails. She found an email sent by the ex-Account Executive wherein he referred a potential advertiser to another magazine. Upon further snooping, she found a couple others. My first reaction was that he deserved it. But, on second thought, I decided it was actually beneficial and good practice on his part to do that sorta thing if the advertiser is definitively not going to advertise with us anyway. A salesguy would never purposefully sway business. It just doesn't make sense considering it's his livelihood. Perhaps he was the only strategic one of us in the bunch? His Strategy: If we don't come off like money grubbing jerks, the advertiser will be more likely to do business with us in the future. It's just that simple.

Now we are down to just two account executives: the one who works here and the one who works in Detroit...which pretty much means just one. If anything, the one still remaining should have been fired (not in general, but if a choice absolutely had to be made between the two, he should've been axed). The Publisher's Wife clearly has no control over Detroit girl. The Publisher must have made a plea bargain with his wife on this one. Probably something similar to the age-old situation where the husband okays everything his nagging wife wants, if only he gets to watch his Monday night football. He gets just that one sacred thing in his life, and to the Publisher, this is the Detroit girl. Of course, this is all speculation, but how else am I supposed to amuse myself if not speculation? This is my sacred thing.

On another note, thankfully I don't send personal emails from my work account. I'd be gone too.

*Yes; totally wrong term. She's an idiot.

"Nobody puts OrthoJew in the corner."
Okay, fine. Everybody does.
I didn't even bother to ask why OrthoJew wasn't here on Monday. The Publisher didn't offer the information and there was really no need to question a good thing. I'd rather use my energy to rejoice. I admit that I did a bit of quiet speculating: Maybe she's sick. Maybe she had a "family emergency." Maybe, just maybe, she quit? I knew it wasn't the latter because I would be one of the first to know, but a man can dream, right?

Yesterday she caught me off guard when she came to work sunburned. I laughed a bit to myself thinking that she went to a tanning salon (and laughed even further thinking that she might actually believe a tan could do anything for her hopeless cause).

It was about 90 degrees in the office and everyone was complaining and asking the Secretary Who Reeks of Cigarettes to, please, call the building management and have them do something about it. Here, OrthoJew says that she's cold and makes the universal sign for shivering. Brrrr...

What the hell was she talking about? We were all sweating like pigs (it was very unkosher, this type of sweating). Later in the day, the Other Designer was complaining that his food was too spicy. OrthoJew retorted that he's a wimp and that "I'm used to it." Huh? She's a pretty pasty broad and easily strikes me as more of a boring meat and potatoes type than an exotic, spicy food type. I could be wrong, but I really don't think so.

Finally, the Israeli Girl, speaking for all of us, asked OrthoJew what the hell her face was all red about? Did you go tanning? OrthoJew said that her and her husband went to Puerto Rico for a long weekend. "Maybe that's why the heat isn't bugging me" and again, "I'm used to it."

The Other Designer cuts in, "That explains your sudden superb tolerance for spicy food. Did you acquire a new tongue while you were there? Train your palette?"

Admittedly, I kind of felt sorry for her, so I interrupted and asked her why she chose Puerto Rico over Miami or somewhere closer? She replied that they didn't want to "chance" the weather. They knew Puerto Rico would be warm, but couldn't be so sure about Florida. Well, la-di-da.

This was the end of our twenty questions session. On the one hand, I truly did feel sorry for the chick - we all make way too much fun of her - but on the other hand, I've always despised people who go on vacation and then come back either acting like:

A). They know everything about the culture there.

Ex: "If you order a Cafe Americano in Italy, they just look at you like you're an idiot. Ever since I came back I refuse to order them because I realized they're just a big marketing scheme." Yeah, no shit - you had to travel all the way to Italy to figure that out?

B). They are actually from the place.

Ex: Madonna/Madge/Esther

C). In the course of a few days, they grew so accustomed to the other country's culture/climate/customs, that they have to endure a readjustment period when they return.

Ex: OrthoJew pretending she's cold. "This is nothing compared to Puerto Rico."

People who complain about jet lag (which is usually a ploy to further brag about their travels) also annoy me. That's the end of my story. It's hot as hell in here. I've gotta go get OrthoJew a coat and scarf.

The Silent Designer and I enjoyed a small victory today.

The last four or five issues (only three of which I have worked here long enough to be a part of) have had fake names in the masthead to make up for the lack of staff. The Publisher's Wife was listed as the Co-Publisher and the Senior Editor before I got here. They entered one of her friend's names in as an associate editor to fill it out (Evidently the mag was without an editor for a few months before me). They had another of her friends listed as "photo editor," which is something the Silent Designer is responsible for aside from his full time position as Art Director.

We have both been pissed about the situation since we're each doing the work of two people and getting paid and given credit for only one. He's been more vocal about it than me, which is ironic considering his nickname, but today, finally, the Publisher basically told his wife to shove it (obviously in not as many words, because, well, we know how he is when it comes to her - there was more hair-stroking than anything) and is going to take the fillers out. As for our paychecks, they'll remain the same. But, that was a given...

Fun with search terms.

Someone just found my site by Googling "Hasidic Whore."

That's the best since "Russian Foreskin."

Update: "Shiksas for Practice"

I hate to say it, but if mimicry really is nature's preferred form of flattery, then Gawker totally lusts after my posin' ways. So does this John Spencer guy.

I thought I had cornered the fake Jew market. Guess not.

Filed under: Gawker likes my catchy title so much that they use it for one of their posts, but can ya blame them?

The best guess of the day goes to Marie Lyn Bernard, for Highlights.

I still have a job and I've been promoted to a half Jew, which is an interesting place to be (I'd like to thank the Academy for this honor). It's kind of like purgatory, but with a Jewish twist. That brings up an interesting point: now that I'm Jewish I need to know what happens when I die? Christianity offers one hell of a parting gift; what does Judaism offer me? This is very important. I might decline my promotion if the door prize sucks. You can surely understand.

But if I want to be a half Jew, can I? I mean, I'm no fencesitter, by any means, but is this even possible? Half Catholic/Half Jewish? Kind of like a religious mutt? It sounds like an exotic mix, really.

Before

This weekend the Manwhore stopped by with the Israeli girl.

I'm sick yet again (still?) so he thought he'd use me as a subject for his double ploy to get into her pants (as if he even needs a gimmick at this point):

1) He wanted to look good in front of the Israeli Girl
2) He wanted to add in a minute Jewish detail to the mix to further prove his authenticity

He accomplished both single-handedly by resorting to the oldest trick in the book: Matzoh Ball soup.

He brought me a pot of it, said something about how it was his mom's recipe and patted me on the back. I'm sure she was impressed, which means that she probably tried to make out with more strippers at some club that night and subsequently got rejected.

By the way, the background on her is slowly coming to surface. She has been one of the Manwhore's clients since moving to the states (remember, he's a personal trainer). Evidently he saw potential in her from the beginning and has held her hand through the training processes. Sometimes I hate the bastard, other times I just wonder why I'm not a personal trainer.

After

A chain of emails concerning the Gawker "conspiracy."

Background: Gawker tried to out me last Friday. My friends and I sent in a series of fake tips (don't pretend you wouldn't do the same), so that in case they actually had a real tip, it would be jumbled in with the fake ones. Fortunately, they didn't get any real tips (and still have no clue who I am or where I work) and they ran all the fake ones, wherein we told them I might even be Jewish. Then I called them on it (shown below). Finally, they got a "real scoop" (others might call it a hypothesis based on assumption) from someone who works in the very same building as the guys at Commentary! The slick tipster said that there's no way that I was hanging out with someone from Commentary at Bookspan, and again, this she knows because she works really darn close to the guys at Commentary! Basically, she wants to see her writing in print (my guess is she'll probably throw the clip in her portfolio and try to pass it on as a legitimate article).

As a side note: During my dealings with Gawker's inane editor, I also realized that all the tips Gawker is using to report on Joe Dulce from Star magazine are from someone who hasn't worked there in over a year. So if they report that "an insider at Star reports that Joe Dulce is depressed," they kinda mean that he was depressed back in '05. I'm sure all of their stories are equally credible. Enjoy!


From: Not Chosen
To: tips@gawker.com
Date: Nov 6, 2006 9:20 AM
Subject: Or Maybe You Guys Are Just Stumped...

...by Abe Ben Gurion, Sam Pearlman and the chick who gives you all the Joe Dolce/Star info? Coincidentally, they're my friends. No real tips yet?

-Not Chosen


From: emily gould
To: Not Chosen
Date: Nov 6, 2006 9:26 AM
Subject: Re: Or Maybe You Guys Are Just Stumped...

I think you need new friends. Unfortunately, yeah, that was it. Apparently no one cares about you.

From: Not Chosen
To: emily gould
Date: Nov 6, 2006 9:28 AM
Subject: Re: Or Maybe You Guys Are Just Stumped...

No one except you, love. Why didn't you guys cover Bookspan? It is media related and all...


From: emily gould
To: Not Chosen
Date: Nov 6, 2006 9:29 AM
Subject: Re: Or Maybe You Guys Are Just Stumped...

Bookspan= yawn. So when do I get to see your boobs? Do I actually have to buy you dinner?


From: Not Chosen
To: emily gould
Date: Nov 6, 2006 9:30 AM
Subject: Re: Or Maybe You Guys Are Just Stumped...

We'll hang out eventually. Do you get down like that?

From: emily gould
To: Not Chosen
Date: Nov 6, 2006 10:05 AM
Subject: Re: Or Maybe You Guys Are Just Stumped...

maybe if you TELL ME WHO YOU ARE. I mean, no one but me cares, but I want closure.


From: Not Chosen
To: emily gould
Date: Nov 6, 2006 1:03 PM
Subject: Re: Or Maybe You Guys Are Just Stumped...

Ha! Nice update with the third party source who wants to act like she knows something even though she doesn't work at commentary and wasn't at bookspan. It's basically scientific evidence. You guys are rockin' it!
----

No response yet. I'll let you know. For now, back to business as usual...

I've told you this before, but every month we have a brainstorming meeting where each staff member states his or her progress on the month's projects.

Today the Redheaded Girl with the Annoying Long Island Accent really impressed me.

The PR girl got up to tell us her plan of action. She said that she and the Publisher had decided to invest in a service called Bacon's Media Source so that we can start sending out press releases with each issue - something we should've been doing all along, really. From here she told us that she was going to teach everyone to use it to look up press contacts.

This is where the Redheaded Girl with the Annoying Long Island Accent, says, under her breath, "OrthoJew can't use it; it's not kosher."

I'm tellin' ya, it's not just me who can't stand her. I'm just the one who bitches about her regularly on an open forum.

OrthoJew must really hate these meetings. She gets bashed every time. In related news, I can't wait 'til next month's meeting.

Gawker's trying to out me. If you think I work at your office, you can tell them here.

Oh yeah, consider this the link of the week.

Last night my agent invited me out to the Bookspan party at the Pierre Hotel. He said it was the "literary event of the season" and that I should be there. For what reason, I'm not sure. I'm not allowed to tell anyone who I am and I had to pretend I worked at his agency. Of course, I've got the pretending-to-be-someone-I'm-not thing down pat. What really caught my attention, though, was the open bar. Well that, the multiple sushi bars, the dessert stations and the room full of 800+ publishing people. Anyone who is even vaguely familiar with the NYC publishing industry knows that it's about 90% women. This percentage was alive and kickin' last night. I don't mind being a minority.

We sat down with a few of his agent/publishing friends and he gave me a quick disclaimer: you're working with me exclusively. While I'm sure these guys wouldn't exactly be knocking down my door, I assured him I wasn't a cheater. He introduced me as one of his clients and immediately the guy sitting next to me told me he could triple my advance (I don't have one). When asked what kind of writing I do, I let my agent take the lead. His line is pretty good: "Literary/Mainstream fiction, a fish out of water story." Suddenly, one of the publishers chimes in to announce that I'm writing a young adult book for him. "We're doing lunch this week. I have faith in you. You're a good writer."

I'm sorry, have we met? The guy has no idea who I am and vice versa. It would have been flattering and enticing otherwise.

Ironically, the other guy my agent brought along was the owner of a Jewish magazine called Commentary. When we were introduced, titles exchanged, my agent says to the Commentary guy, "I hear there's a Catholic guy working at one of the local Jewish mags." The guy replies, "Yes, so I've heard." A lovely answer, indeed.

This is Vinny.
Our table was directly behind the bar. Vinny, the bartender, was at our beck and call. For some reason, the publishing guy declares that he's Jewish so he didn't have a toothfairy. Yes, I know--completely off the subject.

"What - Jewish people don't get a toothfairy? I don't get it."

Commentary guy says that they do.

Sleazy pubisher guy says, "Yes, you're as Jewish as they get. Half Abraham, all Jew."

This is where I get confused and leave. Well, actually, I leave because Vinny stopped serving.

I've been receiving a lot of traffic lately from people looking for images of Cindy Margolis. I wondered why people were suddenly so interested in the hussy. I wrote about her a while ago when musing about my inevitable Jewish tabloid, but only recently has she brought me so much traffic. Today I realized why: Cindy Margolis in Playboy (Finally!)

Their title, not mine. Yawn.

One of the sales guys had to travel to an advertiser's office yesterday. The advertiser in question makes extremely expensive merchandise and the sales guy had to stop by to pick up a piece for an auction (also kiss a little ass).

The sales guy was surpised to hear that the advertiser's office was in the Bronx. When he got to the neighborhood he said there were little kids running around in the streets barefoot. "Man, I live at 125th and 3rd and this place was even more ghetto than my neighborhood." The sales guy realized that the address he had down was that of a residence, not an office. He knocked. Clearly they worked out of their house. No big deal.

A Hasidic woman answered the door and told him she couldn't shake his hand or invite him in because she's married. She went to speak to her husband, brought back the merchandise and then sent him off.

He found this odd and obviously, after hearing about it, I did too. Admittedly, at first I even thought that it was odd that the sales guy thought it was odd. I assumed that because the sales guy was Jewish, he would find this behavior normal. You know, seeing as how these are his peeps and all. It occurred to me pretty quickly that this was an ignorant assumption. The range of Jewishness (Frummness? Frumminess? Frumtasticicity?) is very vast I guess.

In Catholocism, some believers are more devoted than others, but that's about the extent of the situation. I'm pretty sure a whole religious war could take place just between the different "sects" (is that the appropriate word?) of Judaism.

I told the Manwhore this theory, not that he was interested, and he told me that he once saw some Hasidic guys beat down some guys who were talking trash about their hair. I assume that means that the Hasidics would win. On that note, at least the sales guy didn't say something like this.

Halloween Update: Last night was perfect weather for whorin'. I didn't see a single one. Maybe that's because I was in Chelsea? Hmmm. When I got to the office this morning, however, I found out that the Publisher's Wife had placed a giant bag of candy on the counter for all to dive into. I assume this means that she took her daughters out trick-or-treating, then stole all of their candy. Yayy for us. I don't like those little wenches anyway, but I do like candy!