I just went to lunch with the guy that supplies our paper. The Italian guy who owns the restaurant was blatantly hitting on some girl. According to the hug upon walking in and the "I'll sit in my usual spot," she was a regular.

Upon seeing this display, the paper guy leaned into me and said, "He wants to sleep with her. I guess that's better than him liking little boys. I never did understand that Catholic pedophilia stuff."

I must not look very Italian. I assume if I did, he would have kept his mouth shut.

Because I could care less about stereotypes, I won't offer a moral to this story. "Now kids, we could easily make a case here about double standards ( 'I can use stereotypes, but you can't' or vice versa...). You see, everyone is a bit guilty of using stereotypes as social Cliffs notes." Instead, I'll settle with the universal conclusion: Shit happens.

Then again, maybe I'll blackmail him for a discount on paper. You know, rumor has it that us Italians are shady bastards. I'd hate to let anyone down. Maybe I'll even get a raise in the process? Hmmm...

The Secrets of Christmas: Revealed

Me: i need something to write about today. There's no one in the office, so no one to make fun of
BaconJew: write about your christmas experience back home
Me: hmmmmmm.. what about it?
BaconJew: all jews want to know about what happens
Me: really?
BaconJew: of course
Me: ha, okay
BaconJew: talk about the gift exchange thing
Me: what do you mean?
Me: just in general?
BaconJew: jews don't do that
Me: i thought you got a gift each day?
BaconJew: call it "the secrets of christmas: revealed"
Me: you're hilarious
Me: so did you get gifts or no?
BaconJew: adults usually don't get gifts for hannukah
Me: sucks for you. my christmas isn't a normal christmas. we're very spoiled.

I considered doing a "live blogging on Christmas" post for exactly this reason, but thought better of it because:

A) What kind of loser blogs on Christmas day?
B) I didn't want to explain to the family why I was documenting their every move. Plus, they complain every year that I'm always on the computer.

This year I slept on my parents' couch because my siblings called dibs on the two extra rooms. I woke up at 8 a.m. to my mom stuffing stockings. Our stockings each sit on a chair and the gifts overflow onto it. The chair and stocking contain more presents than most people receive the entire day. I've said it a million times, my parents go all out for Christmas. I am very happy about this situation. I will never get too old for presents. Perhaps I sound like I'm bragging? This is because I am. I grew up with nothing and when my parents ran into money, they started "expressing" themselves through Christmas (and other tacky mediums) (We're Italian by all means - tacky is in basically in our genes). I don't think I'm necessarily entitled to it, but I'm certainly not complaining.

My dad is never around for the stocking part. He is in the kitchen making chicken, sage and apple sausages and yes, potato pancakes, which I referred to as latkes this year out of new habit. All of the men in my family cook (everyone does, actually), including my newly circumcised grandfather who has a new favorite recipe for microwaved pork terryaki. It's surprisingly decent. My dad has a wiener dog who is forced to wear antlers on Christmas. His name is Hewie and I'm pretty sure my dad likes him more than any of us. He talks to him like he's a human and has to constantly remind him that, "Hewie, you're only a dog, not a person." I don't think Hewie is the one that's confused. When my dad wants to have a serious conversation with Hewie, he refers to him as "Hubert."

Moving over to the Christmas tree. The Christmas tree basically contains every present each of us has asked for on our template Christmas wish lists that mom sends out about a month or two before Christmas. She has a shopping addiction and we all benefit from it. She doesn't care who she's shopping for as long as she's going through the motions. Every year, my parents say the same thing before we open presents, "Next year isn't going to be like this. We're going to stop getting so many presents. This is ridiculous." And we respond, "I understand," then elbow jab each other in the sides because we know it's not true.

From here we sit around and everyone takes turns opening presents. My dad usually gets my mom jewelry and vacations. Every year she threatens my dad that she is going to get fired for taking off so much time. Like any Italian woman (err, any woman), mom is obsessed with jewelery. She has a dresser dedicated to it in her room. My sisters get a bunch of jewelry for Christmas every year as well. Most of the time they don't like half of it, but not to worry, mom has what she calls the "Jewelry Exchange Program." The jewelry exchange program is a basket of a bunch of jewelry she has taken out of her drawers. The sisters dig through it and trade her for the jewelry they prefer. My dad usually buys himself a painting that my mom has nixed sometime during the year. When she starts fuming, claiming that, "No, I hate that thing," my dad says he can't help it; Santa brought it. I imagine that from an outsider's point of view, this is very obnoxious.

Finally, we eat the sausage, eggs, potato pancakes with gravy left over from Christmas Eve dinner. My dad says the longest prayer in the world, asking God to bless the family, the neighbors, the troops overseas, bad decision-makers who affect the world we live in and other various people he hates and loves. He is wearing a burgundy Santa hat with a leopard print trim. I think [hope] it's my moms. Later in the evening we go to my aunt and uncle's house where our whole extended family meets to open even more presents and have dinner. Dad wants to know if the Santa hat matches his outfit. "Dad, there would be a serious problem if that matched your outfit." "True," he says. "I think I'll wear it anyway."

And this is Christmas at the Not Chosen household.

"So as you can see, I'm pretty much not worried
about your subscription list right now."

I'm still out of state right now and I know I didn't post a Christmas edition of Manwhore Monday yesterday. That's only because I've decided to ignore the Manwhore for a bit. Not only has his "stock plummeted" according to an anonymous commenter last week, but he's also cheap. Whenever we go to dinner or drinks, he orders the most but always wants to split the bill equally. He never buys rounds of drinks and when we get bottle service (admittedly, this isn't often), he drinks most of the bottle and contributes least to the bill. Basically, it costs me too much to get Manwhore stories.

Since I haven't been in the office since Thursday, I don't have much to report other than a quick rant about the Publisher's Wife. An email she sent me yesterday led me to believe that I have some serious misgivings about Christmas and its importance to Jews. I thought that even though it's not a religiously relevant holiday, it was still somewhat of a sacred day. Not at all. It really is just another day.

I got this crazy idea last night that maybe, just maybe, my boss would decide to let us take off the whole week rather than coming in tomorrow and Thursday. So, I checked my work email to see if such a message existed, only to find an email from the Publisher's Wife. She was bitching about some subscription list that needs to be updated. Are you kidding me? I looked at the time stamp: 8:21 a.m. Christmas morning. This was followed by a second email at 8:25 a.m. The latter email contained the words: "If you have too much on your plate and don't think you can handle this, I'd be happy to take it over." If you aren't fluent in passive aggresive-ese like myself, this means, "You clearly can't handle this peasant task, dumbass." Well, that's a rough translation, but it's something like that. She was referring to a bunch of people who didn't renew their subscriptions and thusly, should not be on the list (but are anyway). The catch is, she never gave me the information to remove in the first place and I'm not psychic. But that's another story. The appropriate thing to do in this situation, of course, is to respond that, "You're right, maybe you should take it over." This would be especially comical seeing as how the Publisher's Wife thinks that she's a master of reverse psychology. Therefore, she's expecting something more along the lines of: "No--I'm begging you! Please don't take away this responsibility! I won't fail you this time!"

Anyway.

So, granted she had no idea that I was sitting around a Christmas tree opening presents with my family while she was busy micromanaging subscriber lists, this seemed a bit much for an email sent on a day off. I don't care whether or not you regard Christmas as sacred as long as you acknowledge the fact that my vacation time is very, very much so. Bitch.

Compliments of the Goldstein twins...

When I initially started this job and blog, my friend Aaron of the go-to group told me that, "Jews love to talk about mohels; anything about circumcisions--ha, ha--that makes us laugh."

Well, if this self-approved stereotype is true, you're in for a treat. Last night I flew in to see my parents. My dad picked me from the airport up and, for some reason, decided it was time to let me in on a little family secret.

"You can't say anything, but your grandfather wasn't circumcised until two years ago. The doctor told him it was healthier. He called me after it was done and told me he hadn't looked yet but was excited to see his new self."

Dumbfounded, my only question was, "Wow, did that hurt?" Obviously.

Then dad breaks into a mohel joke (honestly, he must have sensed my newfound identity because we've never discussed circumcisions or any related fodder. Spiritual osmosis? Hmmm...):

"Have you heard about the mohel who saves the foreskins and turns them into wallets? He says they're very versatile. Rub on 'em and they turn into briefcases." Har, har.

But dad's not done, "Did you hear about the mohel who works for tips?" Another knee-slapper.

From here we talk about the Hasidic practice where the mohel, well, you know... I just learned about it last week. My dad, two months ago. If only I had known just half of this before I shared my disgust of brisses in front of my colleagues (I'm not linking to this post on purpose). My father is evidently a whole lot more avante-garde than myself.

Anyway, grandpa was 79 when he had his.

"Cimmy-son, the whole world does not hate you,
just Iran and David Duke"

The following comes from Cimmy, one of my most recent converts. You see, as a Fake member of the tribe, you reap all the benefits of belonging without any of the dedication.

This very well be a case of student surpasses master. (Exhibit A: Knowing what the word shivah means and using it in context):

I've been pretending I'm Jewish at work lately. Remind me to tell you about it. Here are some snippets:

Middle-Aged Woman: Do you know what angel hair is?

Cimmy: Uh...pasta.

MAW: No, no. The Christmas decoration. Really thin, shiny....

Cimmy: Tinsel?

MAW: No, no. No attached to a garland.

Cimmy: Icicles?

MAW: No, no. I can't believe your generation doesn't know what angel hair is. What is Christmas coming to? Cimmy: I'm Jewish.

MAW: What does that have to do with anything?

Cimmy: *blank stare*

----

Michael, the mentally-disadvantaged clerk: Are you ready for the holidays? Are you ready for Christmas? (multiply this by eleventy hundred thousand times over the course of a day)

Cimmy: I'm Jewish, Michael.

Michael: What does that mean?

Cimmy: It means I don't celebrate Christmas.

Michael: I feel sorry for you.

Cimmy: Good. Most of the world hates me.

I think pretending to be Jewish might have advantages. "Sorry, can't come to work today. Gotta sit shivah."

I feel official now. I think I'm going to change my site from FakeJew to HonoraryJew.

Amy Guth, author of Three Fallen Women, meme'd me for the fifth night of Chanukah.

I don't know what "meme" means, so I asked BaconJew. BaconJew had no idea what it meant either and reminded me that I'm a better Jew than he is. I agreed with him and that was that. Still, we don't know what meme means but we figured out some really tragic ways to use it:

"Meme me up, Scotty!"
"I didn't meme to hurt your feelings."
"It's you and meme and the bottle makes three tonight."

Um, yeah. While we're trying to figure that out, here's my Chanukah Q&A:

Ready, set... meme! (That was Amy's addition to the list, by the way).

1. Quick! You must turn a plate of latkes into an upscale gourmet delight (as if they aren't already?). What would you add to them to dress them up,flavor and/or garnish them?

I'm so hungry right now.

I would sautee onions, garlic and mushrooms in butter and salt, then combine that with a potato and minced lamb. This concoction would compose the filling. We would have to have sauce though. For that, I'd reduce white wine, and combine the resulting reduction with butter, more garlic, sweated leeks & scallions, black truffle oil and heavy cream to make the ultimate latke sauce.

By the way, I've never had a latke, but this sounds damn good.

2. What is the dumbest thing you've ever heard anyone say about Chanukah?

That you should send your mother a card on Chanukah, and I'm the one who said it.

3. What's the best possible use for olive oil?

I use olive oil on everything. The best thing, however, is to cut the top off of a whole clove of garlic, pour olive oil and salt & pepper inside it, wrap it up in aluminum foil and throw it in the oven for 45 minutes. When it comes out you can dig each individual pod out like paste and spread it on toasted bread (pumpernickel or wheat, thinly sliced and baked). While you're at it, add some brie cheese (melted, if possible), halved grapes, and mango chutney. May as well throw some more olive oil over the whole thing. You will not be dissappointed.

4. Settle it once and for all. Latkes or hammentaschen? Which do you prefer? What about pitting the winner of that contest against sufganiyot?

Evidently I won't be discovering hammantashen until Purim. Like I said, I've never had a latke, but I like salty better than sweet so I imagine the latke would win hands down. I have no idea what the snuffaluffagus one is.

5. What's the best way to mix up a game of dreidel?

All I know about a dreidel is that it's made out of clay and when it's dry and ready, oh dreidel I will play. However, alcohol can pretty much spice up any situation.

6. My novel, Three Fallen Women, shockingly enough, is about the lives ofthree women. Which three women would you like to have over this year for latkes and why?

Madonna, so we could swap tricks of the fake Jew trade. Just kidding. I wouldn't give her any latkes, nor could I stand to hear her speak. Let me think:

Zadie Smith, author of White Teeth, because she puts so many other writers (male and female) to shame.

My inner woman. One female reader thought I was a girl due to my Manwhore posts and a male reader said he wanted to, umm, do me. I have a feeling my inner woman is one sexy lady.

Angelina Jolie, because I couldn't think of anyone else quick enough and plus, I think she'd dig me.

7. Other than Three Fallen Women (har har), what book do you think would make a great Chanukah gift this year? What book would you like to receive as a gift this year?

Absurdistan by Gary Shteyngart. I'm very proactive, though, so I'm going to get it for myself as a gift today.

Update: Just bought it.

8. What bloggers didn't participate in Chanukah Blog Tour 5767 and you think should have?

Good question. Is Jewbiquitous in on the fun? I don't read too many blogs. Maybe Young Israelite or, if Heeb had a blog, that would probably be one of the funnier posts. Yo Yenta, who I linked to above, is another good one. Oh, and how can I forget good ol' Becca at Magic Jewball? And Baby Tyrone!

Here are the other bloggers who are participating on today's tour:

Want Some Cheese with that W(h)ine?
The Shalvster
True Ancestor
Random Thoughts - Do They Have Meaning?

This is Amy. Everybody say hello:


See Amy write:

Bye Amy!

The Manwhore has officially fallen off the deep end this week and I feel obligated to offer you a disclaimer before presenting this edition of Manwhore Monday: I’m just the messenger.

This story is even enough to make me blush with shame. In comparison to past Manwhore Mondays, this one is triple X (well, at least for this blog). I’ll try to make it short.

Yesterday a few of us went to the Manwhore’s favorite sports bar to watch football. One of the waitresses, who the Manwhore sees there regularly, was off the clock, getting drunk and decided to sit with us. She’s an Asian girl who started off somewhat shy but after a few shots gradually transformed into a tv-shoutin’, sex-crazed fiend. At one point she decided to solicit the Manwhore for sex. It wasn’t a hard sale. He left with her right then and there and told us he’d be right back. He's a classy dude.

At this point, we were creating a new hall of fame to be built in his honor.

About 15 minutes later, the girl comes back without the Manwhore.

Where is he?

Here the girl announces to the entire bar that “Your friend came in 10 seconds! I’m horny. I haven’t been laid in forever. I need to come!”

Needless to say, my other friend cozied right on up to her. Doesn’t he know better than to touch a girl the Manwhore has been with? Even if it was only for 10 seconds?

When I called to make fun of the Manwhore later last night I suggested he revisit his Jewish roots, call back the Israeli girl and beg for her forgiveness. He said he'll consider it. He asked me not to use yesterday's story for today's post. I said I wouldn't.

By the way, he says I can't post a picture of him and that I have to update you on the Greek girl I mentioned in last week’s edition. Not only did the guy she is in the middle of divorcing leave her for his brother’s ex-wife, the Manwhore is actually interested in her sister who he claims is much cuter than she is. He’s going to do some permanent damage to that one’s ego, similar to the damage the waitress did to his yesterday.

Google Search: "How to Pretend You're Jewish."

Welcome, my friend. You've come to the right place.

Happy first day of Hanukkah.

As the Editor and unofficial boss to the flacks I work with, I decided to buy a few Hanukkah cards for them. I spent half of my paycheck on these things, so they better enjoy them. While doing so, I conducted an informal study. I had a theory that Hanukkah cards would be more expensive than Christmas cards. I admit this was due to the "Jews are Rich" stereotype, but I did it subconsciously so...

Anyway, my hypothesis was incorrect. Christmas cards were, on average, 40-50 cents more expensive than Hanukkah cards. Maybe this is because Hanukkah cards aren't as popular? Or, as you'll see, maybe because they're not as impressive. Just an observation.

This one is for the OtherDesigner, who tried so hard to be cool by leading the Whos to victory and for hosting a Secret Santa ceremony (that unfortunately backfired in his face):

For the Controller, who has proven to me that he will put the enclosed money (of the Monopoly genre, of course) to good use by buying pastries that he'll forbid the Publisher's Wife from eating. Tee-hee:

Speaking of the Publisher's Wife, here's hers. No explanation necessary:

For the Publisher, so that his wife doesn't feel all singled out and insecure having received the only dog card. I imagine he'll see the humor in it. A) The poor bastard's always in the dog house. B) He's married to one. I'd say this is more than appropriate:

For OrthoJew, just to shove the Grinches' loss in her face. Plus, I know how much she digs all things Christmas:




This one was a stroke of genius on my part. I am writing it to my mom and casually keeping it on my desk all day so that everyone will know what a good Jewish boy I am. Happy Hanukkah, ma!


Speaking of Hanukkah, I will be participating in a Hanukkah Blog Tour with 35 other bloggers next week. To find out more, go here. My post will go up on Tuesday, so stay tuned. Have a good holiday!

Back from the Holiday Party. Yes, it was a day thing. Here are the not-so-important details:

Stretch limo. White. Limos usually contain bad alcohol in crystal bottles. This one just contained the crystal bottles.

We went to a restaurant that only had beer and wine. I ordered a Guinness.

The Publisher’s Wife asked me what I was drinking. Think Quick. “Guinness.”

It was obvious she had a problem with it, but she replied “oh.”

Secret Santas. OrthoJew opted out. Surprise, surprise. Evidently she had done this in private with the OtherDesigner and he ended up having two Secret Santas in order to compensate. Even more, she had chosen his name as her giftee so he didn’t even get a present. Poor guy. I bought him a beer (on the Publisher’s Wife's tab).

Gifts were set at $30 a piece, which I think is way too expensive. I had the Secretary Who Reeks of Cigarettes, for whom I bought two coffee cups with little plates. The lady at the store said she’d like them (that's her job). I imagine the Secretary will ash into the cups anyway though. I should have bought her a tape recorder so that she could record all the juicy conversations she sits in on. That would have been a bit self-serving on my part though and I would have had a problem explaining it to the others.

The food was fair (but free, and that can not be overlooked). The restaurant and the Limo clashed. Actually, limos are kind of tacky and so was the restaurant so maybe not.

The Silent Designer brought SuperJew. It has been, what, 3 months since she left? Somehow she managed to both complain and brag about her new job at Court TV (I think) at the same time. The Silent Designer had mentioned that SuperJew might be coming back to work at the magazine, although this wasn’t a topic of conversation at lunch. OrthoJew couldn’t stop staring at her. SuperJew did her best not to jump down her replacement’s throat. We weren’t supposed to bring guests unless they were spouses but evidently SuperJew has been grandfathered in. OrthoJew didn’t bring her troll-lookin’ husband.

The Publisher didn’t make it. The Detroit sales girl is in town. Coincidence? I don’t know. I can’t remember who it was that told me that the Publisher’s Wife was on the phone with the Detroit Sales girl the other day and she heard her say: “Oh honey, I used to sell dope when I was your age too.” Ladies and gentleman, I can’t make this stuff up.

Anyway, after an overall uneventful party we went back to the office and there you have it. I thought there would be more to tell, but nope. Nothing good happens when you’re sober, I guess.

When I read that some people actually light their menorahs/chanukiahs with hand pressed olive oil (Bonus: from real life Israeli olive trees!) I became hungry. Scratch that, famished. I'm not being intentionally blasphemous here. Just thought you might like to know.

And speaking of big appettites...

Our new web designer (not in-house, unfortunately--we could use some new blood around here) sent a box of Vosges chocolates to the Publisher's Wife as a thank you for the job. The PR girl received them and went around passing them out to all of us. Personally, I enjoy the dusted chocolate apricot truffles, so I nabbed those for myself. She then put the remaining several truffles on the Publisher's Wife's desk.

When the Publisher's Wife returned, I overheard the Secretary Who Reeks of Cigarettes telling her, gleefully, how nice it was that the new web designer sent us chocolates.

This is what I heard:

Secretary: "They were so good. The PR Girl passed them out."

Secretary: "Oh, really? I'm sorry."

Secretary: "Oh, we didn't know. We thought they were for everyone."

Where, oh where, was the controller when we needed him to remind the Publisher's Wife of the sheer diameter of her ass?

There are truly only two options here: She wanted to eat ALL of the truffles by herself, or she wanted to give them away as a present to someone who doesn't deserve them nearly as much as the staff who earned them.

I especially hate* the Publisher's Wife lately, but the details are too obnoxious to report. All I can say is that I've taken the liberty of inducting her as an honorary member of the Grinches.

*Yes, I realize hate is a strong word, but not one that isn't appropriate in this situation.

I don't know why people always offer disclaimers ("I know this is lame, but..." "It's slow here today, so...") before posting a list of Google search terms that brought readers to their respective sites.

I happen to love reading these posts and seeing what weird crap people are Googling. On that note, I've had several Google searches bring readers to the site as of late. It's not a slow day, I just enjoy this. Here's my recent list plus remarks:

How to Celebrate Chrismas [sic]
My first reaction to this was, "What kind of jackass doesn't know how to mock-pray, eat and open presents?" Then I realized that if someone asked me how to celebrate Hannukah or Ramadan, I'd be Googling those for an answer too. I'm so diplomatic.

Looking for a husband
I should really implement an online dating arm to this blog. I mean, the Manwhore is receiving emails here now and I've received some provacative offers myself. Singles could pretend they're attending some kind of online author reading (ahem, reading my drivel), meet on the comment boards and then email me if they want me to set them up. From there, I would review pictures and backgrounds to see if they make a good match. The best part of all is that it only costs you, the reader, $50.

Shiksas for practice
This is a crowd favorite and I've seen it a couple times. Is this phrase becoming a cliche? Or, did it already become so a while back and I just wasn't aware of it?

Bagels and nova portion needed per person
This person strikes me as very thoughtful. I worked at a bagel shop in one of my past lives and I remember having to weigh the stuff out, but I don't remember how much. Anyone?

Where to buy a yarmulkah?
According to Annie, there's a good place on the Upper West Side. I think it's on Broadway in the 80s or 90s. If you're not in New York, I've got no idea.

Does anyone care that natalie portman is Jewish and Isreali?
I don't know that anybody necessarily cares, per se, but I'm sure Jewish guys are happy that their fantasies are at least kosher.

Gribanis
Chicken skin if I remember correctly. Yummy when mixed with schmaltz, according to Aaron of the Go-To Group. He promised to make it for me, but never has. I figure he feels a little akward cooking for me, but I told him I wasn't looking for a serious relationship. Just a little on the side...

Scarlett Johansonn's Jewish identity
We've got tons of posts on this (by "tons," I mean two). I've made an executive decision on the matter though: She's not Jewish unless she practices. Sorry guys, I know you want to include her as a member of the tribe, but if the chick can't even admit it, it's a no go.

Scarlett Post #1

Scarlett Post #2

Non-kosher menorah
I didn't know menorahs could be kosher (or not).

Briss celebration
To this day, my friends make comments to the effect that I'm a dumbass for not knowing what a briss is.

Bobby Flay Jewish?
If my site is the only one that had this word combination on it, I'd say the answer's an affirmative Roman Catholic.

Hasidic Wenches
This has to fall into the 'weird fetishes' category. I've received similar searches in the past.

Those Horrible Jews
I couldn't help myself on this one. The IP address associated with this search happened to have the company's name attached to it, so I google that to find that it was a Jewish-owned company. We either have a self-hating Jewish man here or someone who can't stand his/her Jewish boss. I guess the only other option is that the Jewish guy was gauging the amount of anti-Semitism on the internet by using provocative search terms.

Sephardic Hannukah
Interesting. Since my boss is Sephardic and, for all intents and purposes, so am I, please do tell what the celebratory differences are if you find a good site.

Guys caught on video with a guy
I'm ashamed to even admit that this brought someone to my site, but, sigh, it is indeed true.

Women don't wear kippot
Au contraire, my friend. Sometimes they do.

If you're looking for Manwhore Monday, well then, by golly, you're in luck.

For some reason, the Manwhore and I got into a conversation about marriage this week. Perhaps he has it on the mind since he has a new 40-year old, recently divorced client-turned-girlfriend. (I use the word "girlfriend" loosely when talking about the Manwhore's lady friends). When he told me she was Greek, my immediate reaction was, “So, let me guess--now you’re Greek?” His shocking response was, “Just because she’s Greek doesn’t mean I have to be Greek.” What? Perhaps the Manwhore is turning a new leaf.

The following conversation has nothing to do with his new Grecian princess, nor the fact that he passed out halfway on my couch, halfway on my floor, on Saturday night with some girl he ran into at a club. Also, I should forewarn you that he alludes to the mythical drink preferred by haters everywhere, “Haterade.” I'm just the messenger.

Manwhore: Why wasn’t I invited to your Xmas party?

Me: First of all, it isn’t a Christmas party. How quickly your feeble mind forgets your Jewish roots. It’s a Hannukah party at best, a Holiday party at worst and a Christmas party never. Plus, we can’t have guests unless we’re married to them—interested in anyone at my office?

[Note: Here he starts talking about himself in the third person]

Manwhore: Luring the Manwhore into marriage will take more work than a Christmas, I mean, “Holiday,” party. Most girls are clearly unfit to marry the Manwhore. As I said in an earlier email: women will only fuck me – date me, never.

Me: And herein lies the paradox; anyone who is fit to marry is not fit to marry the Manwhore.

Manwhore: Are you saying you’re fit for marriage and the Manwhore isn’t? I think I’m offended.

Me: No, I’m just saying that it takes a special type of girl to marry the Manwhore. Hmmm…the kind of girl who is willing to marry the Manwhore? Think Courtney Love in The People vs. Larry Flynt. In essence, the Manwhore is fit for marriage, but not fit for someone of an, ummm, desirable caliber.

Manwhore: On the contrary, the Manwhore feels he’d make a great husband. His, ahem, experience pays off in the bedroom, and he’s also a good provider for the family. Even if he does stray now and again, he’d be quite tolerant if his wife strays, so it’s all for the best. Top that!

Me: And Courtney Love made a great wife...even had threesomes, foursomes and orgies with the guy. Until, I think, Larry got aids. Then he was faithful to her. Is that right? I think we're in agreement?

Manwhore: The Manwhore thinks you’ve been suckling upon the Haterade teet.

Not one of these qualifies as breaking news on its own, but all combined, they make semi-breaking news. Well, semi-breaking news that wouldn't be newsworthy in, say, July, but since it's December, anything goes...

1. First of all, OrthoJew revealed that she has a very Christian brother and sister-in-law. Not a big deal whatsoever, but interesting nevertheless. As a few of us decided over dinner last night (as if we're some kind of official committee on these things), that since all religions do seem to share the same origins, these incidences aren't, by any means, out of the norm. Still, I proposed that her position as the Grinches' fearless leader is perhaps a subconcious means of lashing out at her Christ-lovin' bro (who, she mentioned, won't step foot into Nevada due to all of the sinning that's taking place).

2. My parents don't know I work here. Have I mentioned that? They don't take a huge active interest in my work life, so I just said I worked at a community magazine and no questions were asked, besides, "How's work?" Why didn't I tell them? Well, they are a bit touchy about certain things. I imagine this would be one of those things. A while back I mentioned to them that I wanted to marry one of my foreign friends so that she could get her greencard and they berated me for "mocking the institution of marriage." As you know they're Catholic and marriage is one of those untouchable subjects (along with condoms and little boys). I can only imagine what they'd say if they knew what I was up to now.

Anyway, since they don't know, they didnt' think twice when they sent me their annual "Christmas Gift Request" template. Basically, they send me a fill-in-the-blank form for gift requests every year (As I said, I clean up at Christmas). It contains different categories such as "technology," "home decor," "gift certificates," etc. This year they paired it with the Vienna Boys Choir's rendition of "Silent Night." Nice touch.

I didn't realize what it was, so I opened it in all it's green and red and loud glory, for the whole office to see/hear. After receiving a few, what-the-hell-is-that's?, I closed it, citing, "My friend's annual holiday letter. They use it as a means of bragging about their accomplishments." That's a whole other story though.

3. Tis the season for people to be too lazy and inconsiderate to walk out of the office and smoke in the cold. Now they're doing it in the bathroom. I can only imagine who the culprit is.

From the recent archives of Yo Yenta, who was responsible for my first "Link of the Week," and who was the first person from whom I gained "Fake Jew News," comes news of Madonna and a Mohel Dilemma.


As you know, I bow down to Madonna. She's the best fake Jew [for Jesus] ever. Enjoy...

The Holidays have created quite the unique division in this office: People who want to embrace Christmas (as a seasonal holiday that's fun to celebrate despite its Christian affiliations) and those who don't.

In fact, two office-decorating committees have emerged as a result: The Grinches and the Whos. I'm not kidding. We all know where OrthoJew stands, of course. The Silent Designer tried to stay neutral because he doesn't much care, but he was persuaded by our friend with the British flag-laden Mini Cooper to join the Whos. The Publisher's Wife has also joined the Whos, citing a love for the color combination (red and green) as the reason. The Publisher is a Grinch and I've decided not to take a side. I figure that if I'm pro-Grinch, I'm overcompensating and that if I'm pro-Who I'm giving myself away. You can surely see my dilemma.

Anyway, the Whos (which is, to tell you the truth, the more robust group considering no one wanted to admit being in agreement with OrthoJew about anything) is led by the OtherDesigner, who I mentioned implemented the Secret Santa program and hung up the first official wreath. The wreath has expanded into multi-colored lights draped over the microwave and "Peace on Earth" propaganda hung around the office. The Grinches have fought back, bringing in a menorah, which makes a little more sense considering the demographics, but they have placed that on top of the microwave as well. Obviously the microwave is not the most glamorous place for the menorah, but OrthoJew is going all out so that her team can survive in this competition. When I walked in this morning she was dusting it off like a trophy and unplugging the Christmas lights (it was either them or the microwave) so that she could plug in the menorah (yes, it's that kind of menorah). She has also brought in a few dradles and attached hooks to them so as to hang them, like ornaments, from the wreath. Finally, she sent out a mass email alerting everyone to the kosher gold coins she strategically placed by the menorah in the kitchen. Of course, everyone can appreciate OrthoJew's work because it reflects them all, but it is fun to watch her cringe at the opposition.

I'm going to go ahead and declare this an all-out war. I'm just waiting for the Whos' next move. I'll let you know when they roll in the nativity...

Update: Just found this. Perhaps these people would like to come to my office to conduct a case study?

So this was the conversation between BaconJew* and I regarding [putting an end to] the whole Michael Richards debaucle.

Background: Gloria Allred is being interviewed on some NEWS show and is not-so artfully dodging the question, "But do you really think your clients deserve a cash settlement?"

BaconJew starts cussing at the TV, telling it that "For Christ sake's, he apologized already. Get over it!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I say. "Mel Gibson apologized a million times and you guys haven't 'just gotten over it,' now have you?"

BaconJew: That's totally different.

Me: Interesting. How so?

BaconJew: Did you see Passion of the Christ? He portrayed the Jews kicking Christ's ass the whole movie.

Me: Still, he seems pretty sincere. There are tons of racists and anti-Semites out there who wouldn't think twice about an apology. Bigotry is essentially their identity.

BaconJew: He's only apologizing because he wants to maintain business relationships.

Me: You know that for sure?

BaconJew: Oh, and did you hear that Michael Richards was trying to pretend that he was Jewish, saying that "he identified with Jews"?

Me: Well, I pretend I'm Jewish and I feel that I can identify with Jews - or at least appreciate their beliefs.

BaconJew: But he's trying to use this "Jewish identity" to say that he would never be racist because of how he was affected by the whole Mel Gibson thing. He didn't even go through his stuff. His bar mitzvah, his school...

Me: So what, you accept Scarlett Johannson as an MOT even though her mom (who was born Jewish) is an atheist and Scarlett hasn't once shared her religous affiliations publicly? But Michael Richards, who actually seems to give a shit about Judaism in some way or another; he's out of the question just because he's not popular right now? That's gross.

BaconJew: Scarlett Johannson's Jewish?

Me: No more so than Michael Richards.

BaconJew: Well, if her mom's Jewish.

Me: You guys need to make a serious decision here. You alter it so that you can include who you want and reject who you don't. You said it yourself, he apologized, get over it. Let him be a Jew if he wants. Forgive Mel while you're at it too. You expect forgiveness for your crap, he does too.

BaconJew: [Don't remember what he said here, but I'm sure I argued with him]




*BaconJew is my "bad" Jewish friend who I attended Rosh Hashanah services with in Miami.

As previously mentioned, ever since I told the Manwhore where I was going for vacation,* he basically begged me to make him a photo documentary. So I, with the help of the girlfriend (my production assistant), have done exactly that.

There are quite a few disclaimers and asides for this one.

This post isn't X-rated or anything, but it might be dangerous to open at work. Unless, that is, your boss is appreciative of the female anatomy, in which case I highly advise it.

Only one of the girls pictured here had an attractive face.

Whatever you've heard about this country's women is completely false. Well, except for their bodies, which are out of control.

All of these pictures were taken the same day within a three-hour period

The moms are hotter than their twenty something-year old counterparts. Hands down.

The girlfriend took most of these pictures so that I wouldn't look like the perverted dirtbag with a camera (instead, she looked like the perverted dirtbag with a camera).

Only one of our subjects caught onto what we were doing.

One of my friends, Andre, from school lives down there and was with us this day. When asked about these girls' superhuman derriers, my friend told me that they do special exercises...oh yeah, and take steroids. The steroids, which contain testosterone-type substances (or testosterone-producing chemicals; I don't know how all of that works, really), make their jaws really wide. Since the girlfriend and I had previously noted that these girls had masculine faces, this really completed the picture for us.

What does this have to do with the content of this site? Nothing really. This is Manwhore Monday and basically anything goes. One Manwhore-relevant thing Andre did mention was an anecdote about his friend Bruno, who is basically the Manwhore's South American equivalent. Bruno has this theory: "They say that the girls here are the most beautiful in the world. Seeing as how I've hooked up with most of them, I must be one of the hottest guys in the world." Makes sense to me. I'll have to pass the line onto the North American Manwhore.

If I really had to tie this post into the subject matter, I'd mention something about how the JAP workout truly has nothing on the workout regimen (read: steroids) responsible for the images below. Well, except for the whole wolf-face bi-product thingy that the JAP workout, thankfully, doesn't elicit.

Oh yeah, the following few tidbits were relevant, or at least interesting.

- I told Andre that, the night before, we had gone out to eat at a really busy outdoor restaurant. When we got the check, I noticed that at the bottom of it was the word, "Gringos." I asked him if I should be offended. He replied that, "No, we don't have racism down here. It's not derogatory." He went into a story about how his Korean friend who lives down there was at a grocery store where he heard some girl saying about him, "Who's the cute little Jap?" He got pissed and yelled at her. His guy friends wanted to know what the hell was wrong with him. "She called me a Jap!" "Man, it's cool, she liked you."

-Andre's bestfriend is a Jewish guy with the surname of Lago. The city is protected by a Statue of Liberty-sized Jesus Christ statue and people don't offer their families' many different lineages as a means of "identifying" with something. They are from their country, not an Italian, Spanish, German hybrid with a touch of Greekness.

-Andre told me that the government's new policies were working in favor of promoting racism. Their social classes are divided more into rich and poor than into black and white, but the government is trying to offer its version of "equal opportunity" school funding to the black population. "It's stupid because basically everyone here can trace their family roots back far enough to show that they are somehow black. Now the lighter people are going to start resenting the darker people who are getting special priviledges. If anything they should offer the privileges to the lower income families in general, despite their skin color." Much agreed.

-And speaking of stereotyping, or the lack thereof, there was a really obnoxious group of Italians from Jersey at a restaurant we went to. They were loud and had those horrible Joisey accents that I can't stand (can anyone?). In a stint of Italian pride, the alpha-Italian ordered the profiteroles in his native tongue (English with an Italian accent instead of a Joisey one). "The profiter-O-leeees!" Here I thought, "This is probably how people imagine me." Please don't. He and I are a different species.

And without further ado, this one's for you, Manwhore. After all, it is Monday:

Nasty Face.

False Advertising.


Don't remember.
This is the one who knew exactly what we were doing even though wetried hard to pretend we were taking a picture of something else (perhapsthe guy in Speedos who was standing right behind her?)
This girl was insanely beautiful--the only all together good-looking one we saw the whole trip.

I was intimidated even taking the pictures, so the girlfriend stole the camera and did it for me.I think the girlfriend was even more impressed than I was.

Didn't make any notes. Her steroids seem to be wearing off though.

I threw this one right in the middle to fake out the Manwhore.

Although I'm trying to remain anonymous, I'll admit that the guy on the right is me.

This was a mom!

He better have a damn good personality.

Tell really funny jokes, at least?

They look like they'd be pretty. Nope.

Milf.

Not even kidding.

The girlfriend said she wishes she could look like that after giving birth.
I told her she doesn't even look like that now. Just kidding-ish.

Settling for whatever we could find at this point.

And this brings us to the end of our story. Get it? End? Duh.

*It just wouldn't make sense for me to announce the real destination nor the actual dates that this vacation took place. Sometimes a guy just needs a break so he has to make up vacation time and recycle old documentaries.

It's basically impossible to keep something like this a secret.

Hello!

I just walked in the door from about 13 hours of travel. I'm beat, but thought I'd share the fact that the first thing that greeted me upon stepping into the office today was a huge, glowing Christmas wreath hanging over our magazine rack. And at my computer, about 800 emails, one of which was an inner-office Secret Santa announcement from the Other Designer. Evidently he's in charge of the office's Jewish santas this year. I'm almost positive that the wreath and Secret Santa are plants...as in, someone is onto me and they want to see if I write about the items at hand. If so, you got me. There's no way I could ignore the fodder that is an all-Jewish office hosting, well, yeah...*

So, let me get settled in here, crop some pictures for the documentary, answer some emails and do some work.** I'll put up the next installment of Manwhore Monday sometime today even if it means I have to do it in my sleep (and there is a definite possibility that this will be the case). After all, something about "Manwhore Tuesdays" just doesn't have that special ring to it.

Glad to be back.

*Although, according to Jewbiquitous, Jews Love Christmas!

**I don't know why I even came in today. My boss told me to take the day off, but I insisted due to the guilt that resulted from the fact that I took one measily extra day of vacation time.