As you know, I sit right outside the Publisher's Wife's office.

I despise when she makes a point of laughing unnaturally loud in response to what could be no more than a chain email or news headline: "Anna Nicole to be Buried Friday" Ha! Ha! Ha!

I feel bad ignoring her, but used if I inquire. "Okay, I'm intrigued. What's so funny? Please share."

Good for the Jews? Why haven't my favorite Jewish websites offered a great, "Yeah, like, we totally told you so" in response to the Jesus tomb finding? Or, at least a, "Jesus was a very nice man. Nothing more, nothing less"?

Let me be the first to say it outright, since the media is pussyfooting around the situation:

The whole Jesus tomb thing, combined with the new and improved Gospel of Judas, offers more evidence to the fact that—as us Christian kids forced to attend boring church services the world over have always suspected—Christianity is a crock of …

The new implications are thus:

Jesus was not a virgin
He was having relations with Mary Magdelene
They had a kid (no immaculate conception on this one)
The Bible was the US Weekly of its time (backstabbing, convoluted relationships, sex before marriage, oh my!)

Logic has always suggested:

Mary wasn’t a virgin
Joseph is Jesus’ father. Duh.

My uncle is a theologian. One night at dinner I asked him, "So, do you really think Mary was a virgin or do you think maybe she was givin' it out like candy [to Joseph, of course] and didn't want anyone to find out?"

He laughed uncomfortably and then explained. "I used to wonder the same thing until I studied it more. There were some pretty amazing people in the Bible."

So there we have it.

My dad might backhand me across the face if he read this. I said, "For Christ's sakes," once and he almost had a heart attack.

Have you ever had the opportunity to meet your favorite author? I did on Friday night. This is how it went:

Me: Do you have a sharpie?

Gary: I don't even know what that is. Like a magic marker?

Me: Yes. You see, I own both of your books. I spent $27 on "Absurdistan" but I just found out about this reading an hour before it started, so I couldn't bring either with me. Anyway, I have "Absurdistan" on Audiobook and I want you to sign my iPod.

Gary: You want me sign your iPod?

Me: Yes, but clearly you don't have a sharpie. By the way, I invited you for drinks and you never wrote back. I know you saw my invitation. You google yourself.

Gary: I did? I do? You invited me to drinks? That's very nice of you.

Here I realize that, since Gary didn't have a Sharpie, I would need an alternative to the iPod. I pulled out my building pass from my interview with the recruiter.

Me: Can you make it out to "Not Chosen, Just Posin'?"

Gary: (Laughs). How do I spell that? Is it C-H-O-S-I-N?

Me: No, not at all. Chosen, with an "E." I read your interview with Modern Drunkard. I don't think we should drink that much when we hang out.

Gary: I loved that interview.

Me: Me too. I love interviews that have nothing to do with the topic at hand. Like when Dave Eggers interviewed Jack White from the White Stripes and talked about carpentry the whole time.

Gary: Yeah.

This is where the agent grabbed me and dragged me out of the book store. He knew I had way too much to drink and alerted me to the fact that Gary was definitely not going to have drinks with me.

"Oh, ye of little faith," I rebutted. "He will and when he does, you're not invited."

"Okay, nevermind. I want to come."

The Manwhore’s marvelous idea: Attending an Oscar Party.

It seemed like the worst idea of the year until he explained it to me in detail: "It’s like the reverse Superbowl; it’s going to be all chicks!" For this same reason, the Manwhore attends events such as the Vagina Monologues and Lilith Fair. Basically, he’s a genius.

In comparison to the Superbowl, the Oscar Party we attended had a 14:3 girl to guy ratio (yes, we counted). The spread consisted of prosciutto, sliced meats, cheeses, olives, spanakopitas, and caprese salad with pesto instead of fresh basil. For dessert? Ice cream sandwiches, of course. Superbowl with BaconJew and his Iraqi friends had nothing on this. Plus, that was all guys.

The Manwhore pulled one of his favorite moves last night: be the last one to leave and then attempt to hook up with the hostess. Some people might refer to this as stalking. The Manwhore refers to it as, oh hell, I don’t know. It’s stalking no matter what he calls it.

I feel sorry for this girl. She was a nice Jewish girl (coincidence: the Manwhore is also Jewish...or, at least he was last night), wearing a little mini dress and boots, meaning that she was a goner from the onset. At one point during the evening she announced that she had a rash all over her body and that dermatologists couldn't determine what it was. One would think that the Manwhore would be turned off by this. Nope.

Since he stayed longer than I did, I don’t know the outcome. I guess if he walks in later tonight with a full body rash, I can assume his tactics worked for him.

Holy shit. This is free. I will be there to personally ask Gary why he didn't respond to my inviation for drinks. 126 Crosby Street, between Prince & Houston.

Friday, February 23 at 7:00 PM The Writers Studio presents Gary Shteyngart

Housing Works presents a reading with Gary Shteyngart and members of the Writers Studio. Shteyngart’s most recent novel, Absurdistan, was a national bestseller, one of The New York Times Best Books of 2006, and named a best book of the year by Time Magazine and The Washington Post. The reading will be followed by a question-and-answer session and a book signing.

My initial thoughts on the smelly new graphic designer:

1) My sisters used to ask one another if "you would rather be really ugly or smell really bad?" I think this girl was given the option and she chose the latter.

2) ...which is to say she is very cute, but in a smelly kind of way.

3) Girls that are graphic designers are cool. Well, some of them. A girl I used to intern with back when we both still had naive visions of doing well in this industry, now has a job designing products like the one pictured above. And, well, we all know where I've landed.

4) Is she Jewish? She must be, right? Not that I care for my own personal "use" but if she gets to be openly non-Jewish then I want to be openly non-Jewish. I think it's a bit too late for that though. Must find out the details from the all-knowing secretary.

5) Would she be offended if the Silent Designer accidentally doused her with a bottle of perfume? Inquiring minds.

I gave myself a great idea yesterday: Give up my job for Lent!

I'm not one to go cold turkey about these things, but I thought I'd send my resume to a recruitment firm just to test the waters. As it turns out, they got right back to me and I interviewed with them today. I'll admit to feeling a little sleezy, but I'm pretty sure these agencies are useless anyway.

Speaking of Lent, we went for drinks last night and everyone was wearing their ash crosses, even the manager. The Jews and the Buddhists were whispering about the stupid ashes amongst one another.

"Hey did you see the guy putting his cigar out on everyone's foreheads outside?"

I'm about as gullible as they come, so I was rubber-necking the door trying to see the "guy with the cigar." Then it occurred to me...

So, the new graphic design girl...she smells pretty bad. More on her soon.

It's Ash Wednesday.

I'm not very religious at all. However, I still opt to give up something for Lent every year. More out of tradition and respect for my parents than anything. Last year I gave up excuses. This year I'm giving up my girlfriend. She's got too much baggage and I have little tolerance. It's a long story, really, but I thought it was fitting to do it today, rather than, say, last night. You know, for the sake of religion and all.

We had a good run. Hail Mary. Hail Mary. Hail Mary.

As promised, here's a list of things I like about Japs. (Read: Glorified stereotypes)

What do I like about Japs?
What is there not to like? This is probably a loaded question as many men might not share this infatuation with me. So be it; more for me.

They're not Catholic
Catholic girls are aggressive (which is good) but they're tacky and unrefined when they go about getting what they want (which is bad). They also tend to be insecure and guilt-ridden. Japs are aggressive and they treat their craft like a business deal, where 'no' is not an option. Basically, they know how to get what they want, with tact and maybe a little whining. I happen to like their whining.

Designer Clothing
I wouldn't be caught wearing a designer label, but you better believe I love when a girl is a label whore; a collage of Gucci, Prada, Manolo... Japs really come through when it comes to free advertising for the Italians.

Confidence
My roommate once hooked up with the proverbial Long Island Jap. He took her home and left her in his room to use the restroom. When he returned she was completely naked, sitting on his bed, Indian style. After he dissed her, she kept on coming back for more, telling him that he would marry her one day. He then blocked her from IM, but she kept on contacting him via text message, email, etc... At first he thought she was psychotic, but she was so confident about it that he began to think that he liked her. This confidence was so appealing, in fact, that he took her back...for a whole night.

The Accent
I know that not all Japs share the Long Island/Chicago-suburb rich bitch accent, but to those who do, rock on with your bad selves. Something about these bratty vocals really turns me on, especially when the characteristic is utilized to complain about something. Like I said, the Jap knows how to get what she wants. Those who are not Jap-connoisseurs like myself probably find this accent so utterly annoying that they will do anything to get it to stop. The Jap holds the trump card yet again.

They always look good
I'm not one of those guys who cares if a girl needs two hours to get ready. The Jap most certainly requires a lot of time, but she always looks good. Would you rather have a girl who gets ready in 30 minutes but looks like crap, or a girl who spends 2 hours of her day dedicated to looking good for you? It's a total no-brainer if you ask me.


High Maintenance
Along the same lines as the above, I've heard many a guy bitch about how his girlfriend is "high maintenance" as if this is a bad thing. I, on the other hand, see it as a great thing. If a girl makes you work for her constantly, it is not necessarily because she's needy, but because she knows the value of her stock. It's all part of the "you get what you pay for" concept. Sure, I could have a girl who goes with the flow and agrees with everything I say, but that's boring. I want someone who keeps me interested.

It's fun to break them down
No matter how confident, good looking, whiny or high maintenance the Jap, you can always break her down. And when you do, it's oh so fun to watch them grovel. Make up sex with a Jap isn't too shabby either (or so I hear)(and come to think of it, it might be the only time you get laid...so cherish it).

They're unnattainable
Oh yeah, no matter how bad a "goy" like me wants to be with one, I can never have one completely (unless she's willing to dishonor thousands of years of tradition to date me...which would be really cool).

...has a crush on me.

I wasn't going to post today, seeing as how I'm off for President's Day or Memorial Day or whatever day today is [Insert argument as to whether or not this is a Jewishly-observed holiday here].

But then, I found this on Tzofia's list of relevant blogs on Jewlicious:

"Given that Jews are just so fucking cool and all-powerful, it’s no wonder that gentiles now wish to pose as us. Nowhere are the trials and tribulations of a goy poser so well demonstrated than in the blog titled Not Chosen, Just Posin’. Here we are subjected to the adventures of fakejew who works for an independent, family-run Jewish publication somewhere in the North Eastern US. His employers and co-workers all think he’s a yid and he hasn’t told them differently because I guess he needs the job to pay for his rent and for all the drinking that he does. He may not be a real Jew but he kvetches like the best of them!

"...Certainly there are many other Jewish blogs that are worthy of consideration - as for the rest, they are irrelevant and I will continue to ignore them, just like everyone else."

Obviously this is a writer with impeccable taste.

I'll be back tomorrow with a list of reasons I can't get enough of Japs. For now, I'm going to work off my new beer gut. It's sexier than it sounds.

Liveblogging: P-gate

9:03 AM: Just walked in the door. Four of us were waiting for someone with a key so we could get let in. P-gate was not one of the four.

9:16 AM: No call, no show from P-gate. I write to the Silent Designer and asked if he'd heard anything. He hadn't.

9:28 AM: Still no P-gate. The Publishers aren't here to witness this.

9:35 AM: I suggest to the Silent Designer that maybe the Publisher fired P-gate over the phone last night. He writes back that, "No, not possible. I had my balls last night," meaning that the Publisher would have had to borrow someone else's in order to get the job done right.

9:40 AM: The Silent Designer gets a text from P-gate that he'll be here late. Ya think?

9:58 AM: P-gate is code 6. He has entered the premises.

10:27 AM: NEWS FLASH. P-gate tells the Silent Designer that he's going to try to leave early.

12:29 PM: The Publisher and the accountant call the Silent Designer into the office. The Publisher tells the SD that he's leaving but he's going to have the accoutant tell him at 3:00. The Silent Designer's theory is confirmed: the Publisher indeed needed to borrow someone else's balls.

1:35 PM: Waiting, waiting. I decide that since Monday's a holiday, I'll have to skip Manwhore Monday. But wait! Lo and behold, there's a light at the end of the tunnel: Wolfie Wednesdays. Oh my.

1:42 PM: BaconJew comes up to my desk and tells me his latest two ideas. One is a kosher lean cuisine type diet program for Orthodox Jewish women looking to lose weight. The other I can't tell because I've been sworn to secrecy.

2:00 PM: The girlfriend writes me a naughty email to my private account.

2:16 PM: Waiting. Waiting.

2:18 PM: The Silent Designer reports that P-gate has been given clearance to leave early (little does he know he will be leaving eternally...)

2:34 PM: I realize that Heeb's new "Love" issue is out and I'm not in it. Guess I'm old news. Back in my more popular days, they considered doing a feature about my Jap fettish. I'll share the "List of Reasons I love Japs" with you next week. The girl who I sent it off to told me that she had to clean it up a little so it didn't come off as anti-Semitic. I then wondered how a list about me loving Jewish girls could be perceived as hateful? I'll let you be the judge(s).

3:00 PM: Nothing

3:16 PM: Wondering if the accountant needs to borrow a pair.

3:23 PM: The accountant calls the Silent Designer AND Pgate into his office.

3:29 PM: The Silent Designer exits the office, wide-eyed and says to me "Whoa. I will avoid that from now on." The accountant didn't really know the whole story (because, why would he? This isn't his job)

3:32 PM: The accountant walked into P-gate's area and said that he just got off the phone with the Publisher's Wife. She says for him to make a list of files he needs for the Silent Designer, who will create a c.d.

3:34 PM: The Silent Designer is IM'ing me telling me that P-gate's eyes are red. The tension in the room is ridiculous. Now we both feel really bad.

3:35 PM: P-gate grabs a copy of each issue he's worked on in the last year. He asks the Silent Designer how long he's know about this. The Silent Designer admits that he's known for a while. While in the room, the accountant blamed it on the Silent Designer, saying that he initiated it. P-gate asks what he did wrong so he can avoid it next time.

3:37 PM: The Silent Designer gives it to him cold. "It was your work ethic for me and for the Publishers it was your constant absence."

3:38 PM: The Silent Designer tells P-gate that a lot of people have been intervening on his behalf.

3:40 PM: With that, P-gate leaves the building.

Update: Pgate has left the building unscathed. The Publisher was conveniently not in at 4:45. The Silent Designer informed me that the Publisher called at 5:15 and told him he'd do it tomorrow, but then asked the S.D. if he was sure? ("Are you having second-thoughts?") To which the Silent one replied: "It's like no mother fucker, do it already," or so he claims. More tomorrow.

Considering that Pgate usually leaves at 4:45, the Silent Designer and I have been bumbling around like idiots trying to figure out the Publisher’s strategy. We initially thought that his preferred tactic was avoidance, considering his 9:00 appointment waited for him this morning until 11:00, at which time he finally decided to mozy on in. According to an inner-office poll (otherwise known as 'just the Silent Designer and me'), bets are on the Publisher calling Pgate at home tonight.

Silent D: i don't want to be around for p gate
Me: i can imagine
Me: what time do you think pgate will commence?
Silent D: well pgate usually leaves at 15 til 4
Silent D: but maybe the publisher will call him at home
Me: coward
Silent D: definitely
Me: so in 15 minutes?
Silent D: no its only 3:30
Silent D: oh
Silent D: i meant 15 til 5 not 4
Me: oh

I’ll be back with the update.

Wait, so why don't you like Valentine's Day?

It’s very hard for me to write a specific Valentine’s Day post because the holiday is not one that I care about. People say that it’s a Christian holiday and it very well may be, but I don’t think that the religious affiliations have ever been much recognized nor brought up in church services. Not in mine anyway. On Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day, my family’s church gives flowers to mothers and “future mothers,” (har, har), you know, just because. Way to make us boys feel completely comfortable; not pressured at all. That being said, I think it’s extremely strange for people to not celebrate Valentine’s Day under the pretenses that it’s a Christian Holiday. I think we're adult enough to admit that we don't really celebrate Christian holidays (i.e. Christmas) because of the religious connotations. We just like the celebratory aspects (i.e. presents). Now, if you choose not to celebrate V-day because it’s too commercial or too gaudy for you, that’s one thing. But, if you would like to celebrate V-day and aren’t due to the aforementioned circumstances, might I suggest you chill out and live a little? I’m talking to you, OrthoJew.

I, for one, don’t mind buying a chick (read: the girlfriend) dinner if it equates to seeing her in red, lacy lingerie later. Simple economics, my friends. Simple economics. In OrthoJew’s husband’s defense, I wouldn’t wish her-in-lingerie upon anyone.

Speaking of the girlfriend. She’s conveniently PMS’ing today and we’ve been going back and forth over email about my degree of romantic-ness on the universal scale of these things. Evidently I’m quite low on the romantic totem pole. After listing my inadequacies, she apologizes and tells me she wants to make it up to me. Then she changes her mind and hates me for a different reason (something that she dug up from months ago just for the occasion), and then apologizes again. I told her to have a few shots of vodka before I pick her up tonight. Evidently this sentiment wasn’t an especially romantic one either.

In the grand scheme of things, however, I don’t have it so bad. The Publisher, on the other hand, he’s got it bad. His wife took liberty of ordering flowers for herself today. She made a huge scene when the monstrous bouquet of flowers arrived. She removed the little card and read it aloud. It was a mushy love letter that she had written to herself. The Publisher, only vaguely jealous if jealous at all, asked who they were from. “From me,” she said. “I knew I couldn’t count on you to get me any.”

I am currently bribing the Secretary to check his credit card receipts to see if any flowers were sent to Detroit.

Long live Valentine’s Day!

Update to yesterday's post.

This is the weird email that the Publisher sent out about P-gate:

To: Silent Designer, Everyone else in the office
From: The Publisher

I have decided to let [P-gate] go.

The new designer will start on Monday.I will tell [P-gate] this Thursday. $40k per year and medical starting in 30days.

Thanks,
The Publisher

Wow. Very tacky. Why does everyone need to know the new designer's salary? AND, I don't even have medical and this new designer (who probably does not pass the pencil test as I mentioned in my unofficial job posting yesterday) does? I hate him/her already.

Speaking of tacky, 1) My roommate packed me a BLT plus ham sandwich today and I'm eating it at my desk right now; feeling very rebellious, and 2) My obligatory Vday post will be up soon. It is the epitome of tactlessness.

T-2 days until one of the designers (The Other Designer, not the Silent one) gets kicked to the curb.

Personally, I’m not sure why it’s taken this long.

Let’s look at the Publishers’ track record thus far.

The salesgirl who pulled in more than 100k per year, for instance—she got canned on a whim for who knows what (My theory is she was shagging the boss man, but that’s just perverted speculation)

Sales guy who was giving leads to the competition. Okay, a minor mishap on his part

SuperJew didn’t get fired, but she did quit because of the ironic “no dating other employees” rule (oddly set by a married couple who owns a successful company together..?) Hell, I wouldn’t want to walk in on them getting dirty in the kitchenette either, though.

Anyway, the Other Designer is the only person in the history of this company who actually deserves to be fired and they’ve been pussyfooting around it for months now. (FYI: I really love the word “pussyfooting”)

Let me tell you of his sins:

Actually, no. Let’s just say that ever since he didn’t get the opportunity to steal the Silent Designer’s position ages ago (Silent Designer almost quit in lieu of SuperJew), the Silent Designer has had to take home work every night and every weekend because the Other Designer isn't pulling his weight. The Publishers have asked SD several times if he should get rid of the Other Designer. Yes, yes, yes. Yet they still haven’t done it because they know he has a kid. I was pretty impressed by this rationale considering it was actually the result of a human emotion and I didn’t know the bosses had those. In any case, the Silent Designer finally told them that their reasoning was cute and all, but if the Other Designer was worried about his kid, he’d do his job to support her.

Yesterday, the Other Designer left early because his kid had a half day. That was the final straw. The Publisher asked the Silent Designer for the 78th time if he should fire the O-Designer.

Yes, damnit.

Then, in an act that truly defined the character of the Publisher’s Wife, she sent around a mass email informing everyone that the O-Designer was getting fired.

I think we have a leak, however, because the following is the conversation the Silent Designer and I shared over IM this morning. Note: The Other Designer’s name starts with a P, so P-Gate is the name of this covert operation.

Me: What’s up with P-gate?
Silent Designer: I don’t think he knows yet
SD: he sure was asking funny question though
Me: what did he say?
SD: he asked, “did anything happen yesterday”
SD: i was like no
SD: got some banners
SD: no copy
SD: then he asked me if [redacted] said anything to me
SD: i said no
Me: hmmm.

I have informed the Silent Designer that whoever he hires for the position must be hot with a great rack (must pass pencil test). Is that you? If so, we’re hiring.

Today I’d like to present you with an episode endearingly titled, “Pick-up Line Goes Terribly Awry,” starring, of course, our Monday hero, the Manwhore.

On Friday night we were out at a bar, the caliber of which played host to more intelligent women than those with whom the Manwhore is used to consorting. As you know, within a mere minute of walking into our normal bar(s), the Manwhore has usually hoisted a woman (err, girl) onto his shoulders and/or face to dance with her. This bar had fondue with filet strips for dipping. Need I say more?

I left to use the restroom and when I came back, I accidentally walked in on the wrong part of the Manwhore’s momentary philosophy (read: thinly veiled pick-up line). What I heard was this: “Men are wolves, I’m a wolf.”

Drunk, I couldn’t contain myself. “You’re a wolf?” I asked him, laughing. This not only effectively ruined the Manwhore’s game, but also his night.

The girls he was talking to took to his new name immediately, not only calling him “wolf” the rest of the night, but using “Wolf” as a verb, an adjective and a tragic pun when at all possible.

Here are some examples listed from beginner to intermediate (and possibly of the “you just had to be there” genre):

When ordering another drink: “The wolf would like another drink.”

After hearing one of the Manwhore’s sordid tales: “Is that a true story, or are you just wolfing with me?”

When the Manwhore claimed to have put down $100 for the bill, but instead put down $80: “Put your money where your wolf is.”
(I think I’ve told you that he’s always trying to get out of paying his tabs)

When the Manwhore got so drunk that he was slurring and was thus incomprehensible: “I’m sorry, I don’t understand you. I don’t speak Wolfanese.”

When discussing his occupation: “I already know what you do. You’re a chef, Mr. [Wolfgang] Puck.”

In response to him saying that he called in sick, when he wasn’t, thus using one of his sick days: “You know what happened to the boy who cried…” Well, you get it.

On me, who caused this whole mess in the first place: "Your friend here isn't much of a Wingwolf, is he?"

It was this night that it occurred to me that the Manwhore’s success is dependent, and directly correlated to, the stupidity of the chicks he usually “dates.”

Smart girls, on the other hand, tend to really outwolf him.

After pouring one out for my homie, Anna Nicole, last night (and subsequently drinking the eleven remaining in the pack), I'm not feeling up to par today. What does that mean for you? Fun with search terms, of course.

But before that, let's talk with our favorite Observant Orthodox Jewish doctor, Laura Schlessinger, and see if she has anything utterly brilliant to say in response to this.

Laura--are you there? It looks like she's silent...for once. My newly circumsized grandfather used to torture me by listening to Dr. L non-stop. This is payback, I mean, a tribute to the good ol' days.

That said, I am honored to report that the following search terms have led people to my site in the past two days.

Why am I puking green stuff?
You too drank too much to drown your Anna Nicole Smith woes?

Radish tattoo
Goes nicely with a pig tattoo, or so I hear.

the, envelope, which, you, sent, your, note, got, lost, and, you, didnt, sign, the, letter, dont, know, who, you, are, would, you, please, write, back, with, name, attached, thank, you, love, anne
I don't think you covered all the bases here. Psycho.

Israelis have tattoos
Old news

Gary Shteyngart February 2007
Told you.


Jap Model
You mean her?

Madam with whip
I am proud to say this came from the motherland. Isreal.

Pick up line anecdote
A dude walked into a bar, said something stupid, got laid.

A Jewish woman created barbie
This is true, although Barbie is clearly a shiksa.

In which I attempt to get you information about New Orleans Jews and instead get a date.

Last night I was sitting at a bar, having way too many drinks* (sadly, I think many of my posts start off with this introduction), while discussing prosciutto with a guy on my left and New Orleans Jews with a girl in front of me. Prosciutto guy wanted me to introduce him to my sister (doesn’t everyone?) who works at a restaurant partially owned by Tony Hawk. I’m only namedropping here because prosciutto guy wanted nothing to do with me before I mentioned the skater.

After hearing where I worked, the New Orleans Jew, who looked more like an East Coast WASP, declared that New Orleans Jews are a different breed. I was so drunk, however, that I don’t remember her logic. Something about there not being any temples/shuls there or them not being religious.

I emailed her this morning, asking her to repeat the New Orleans Jews info for an online project I was working on and now she’s trying to con me into hanging out with her:

Me: Tell me again about Louisiana Jews? I need the info for an online project I’m working on today.

Her: What do I look like some sort of free research conduit? By me a drink and I'll think about it.

Me: Give me my info and I’ll buy you a drink.

Her: Hmmmm, I'm not sure if I'm ready to be a part of your online experience... You were thoroughly entertaining, by the way ;-) The best part of the night was, as I was sitting at the bar finishing my drink, the prosciutto guy (you remember him don't you?) walks up and asks if after tonight am I going to see you again. I told him you were a little shady but alright by me. Nothing I couldn't fix.

Me: Why did he ask you that? Was I that obnoxious? I’m going to make up stuff about New Orleans Jews. I’m not using your name. (What is your name?) j/k

Her: you want information, I want a drink...it seems we're at an impasse. In my favor this type of information is best conveyed F2F as much of the nuances will be lost via the written word in an email.

Me: Lunch tomorrow?

Her: I can't as I'm having 2, count 'em, 2 lunches tomorrow. One in-house, another with a client. Meet me at Tarralucci an Vino on E18 btwn Fifth and Broadway immediately after work and I'll tell you everything you want to know...about NOLA Jews that is.

Me: Can’t tonight. I have to watch Little Miss Sunshine with the girlfriend. Monday?

Her: Is your girlfriend coming along too? (sorry, couldn't resist) Monday it is.

Me: You are way too jealous.

Her: Jealous?!? Not really, just a smart-ass ;-) My mother warned me about guys like you.

Me: What did mum have to say about guys like me?

Her: I don't remember. Who ever listens to what their parents say? We usually do exactly the opposite anyway, hmmmm, which I think now explains everything ;-) Is that your cell number in your email footer? Don't worry I'm not going to start calling you. I like the safe distance of email. Gotta run into a mtg. If you change your mind about a quick after work drink let me know.

*By "way too many drinks," I mean that I woke up this morning wearing yesterday’s clothes, minus—thankfully—my shoes

Here’s a “behind the scenes” of what goes on before you receive a present from the Publisher’s Wife.

Note: The only way you’ll ever receive a present from the Publisher’s Wife is if you contribute money to the magazine/her livelihood/her various addictions. You should have seen my holiday bonus. If I didn’t know any better, I’d hold her in contempt, assume I was fired, etc.

1. Publisher’s Wife asks the Secretary to get a present for one of our advertisers who just had a baby.

2. The Secretary buzzes her and says, “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

3. The Publisher’s Wife lashes out, “I don’t give a fuck. I don’t have time for this. Just get something neutral.”

4. An hour later, the Secretary walks in with a basket donning neutral baby toys and three bibs with the advertiser’s tri-part logo emblazoned upon them. She sets it down outside the Publisher's Wife's door as if a sacrifice, and runs away.

5. The Publisher’s Wife gushes over them behind the Secretary’s back.

6. When the Secretary walks back in, the Publisher’s Wife non-chalantly says it looks good and wonders if there is anyone else who should get a similar basket?

7. The Silent Designer (who has been truly living up to his nickname lately) offers that, "Yes, so and so from so and so is also pregnant."

8. The Publisher’s Wife bats down this suggestion, saying “We’re Jewish. We’re superstitious. We don’t give a baby a present until it’s born,” as if she's not only giving him an impromptu lesson about his religion, but explaining a very important nuance that he must understand to, you know, get by in life.

9. The Silent Designer is not humbled as is the intended effect. He says, “Yes, giving a present to an unborn very well may kill it.”

Congratulations on your new baby!

The End.

Hell, the bear can come too if he (she?) wants

An open letter to Gary Shteyngart. I figure this is relevant to the site because Gary's Jewish(ish) and well, I dig the guy's writing.

I know Gary will get this letter/humble invite because he Googles himself (don’t we all?)

Now, how could I possibly know this? Well, aside from a simple educated guess based on my own self-absorbed activity? Here goes: Someone came to my site after googling “Gary Shteyngart” and found me on the 50th page of results. Now, I’m as dedicated a fan as they come and not even I would look as far as the 50th page of results. An alternative theory is that Gary keeps his name on Google Alert, which again, is not a practice we should condemn. It is important to know what dim-witted crap is being uttered about you at all times. In summary, I know that the visit in question was good ol’ Gar (Can I call you that, Gar?)

That said:

Gary,

I don’t want to ask you any deep questions or interview you or put a piece about you in this god awful magazine that I slave at daily, I just want to have a few drinks. We both live in New York. We both like to drink. It’s simple logic. Plus, I’ll pay. I know nary a Russian who could turn down such a generous offer.

Anyway, let me know. My email is over there on the right.

Sincerely,
NCJP

P.S. If you drink as much as you did this day, we’ll have to work out a deal. Like, I’ll get your first few drinks and you’re on your own after about 5 or 6.

These people interviewed him, so that I don't have to (I can just drink with him and leave the pedantic questions to the experts):

Powell's

The Forward ("Six Degrees of Treyf")

...and many more.

In other news:

• The girl at the bagel shop has recently upped the anty, making my price $4.50. Last time I wrote, the price was at $4.10. I was originally paying $2.50, while full price is $6.50.
• The Secretary hasn't noticed that OrthoJew stole her mug.
• The mailroom girl hasn't apologized.

BaconJew and his pharmacist friend

The Manwhore got a last minute offer to go to Miami for Superbowl. He didn’t go to the game, but instead sat in a bar there rather than here, and watched it on a plasma. We traded text messages all weekend to the tune of:

Him: It’s 75 degrees here
Me: Go to hell. It’s 0 here

Him: I hung out with the Colts Cheerleaders last night
Me: I kicked your brother’s ass on Madden. We’re 2-2 now.

Him: I stayed at Space until 9 a.m. There weren’t any girls there. The Colts cheerleaders are the hottest ones here.
Me: I went to dinner last night but it was too cold to go anywhere else. Any celebrities?
Him: Yeah, that Stacy Kiebler chick from Dancing with the Stars.

While the Manwhore was gone, I probed his brother for information on their background. I mention this casually, but this is breaking news considering none of us ever knew what the Manwhore brothers’ ethnicity(ies) was/were.

So, without further ado:

Mama Manwhore is Mexican and Cherokee.
Papa Manwhore is Hungarian, French and Irish.

No wonder those bastards can pass as any nationality they want. They’re everything.

Yesterday I went to watch the game with BaconJew. There isn’t much to report other than the fact that all of his friends are Muslim Arab guys (who grew up in the states). When we walked through the door, they greeted us, “Hey, it's the Jews,” [evidently I was Jewish by association...or job hazard] to which BaconJew responded, “You’re just a bunch of dirty Rabs.” It went on like this the rest of the night, with BaconJew calling his Iraqi pharmacist friend “Sadaam” while simultaneously dodging the imaginary stones that his Palestinian friends were throwing his way. I laughed my ass off.

The Iraqi pharmacist is afraid of his mom. He’s 30-years old, owns his own apartment in the city, works two jobs making well over $100K a year, but won’t tell his mom that he owns an apartment. He either goes to his parents’ house to sleep every night or makes up some excuse along the lines of, ‘I have to work late.’ His friends find this high-comedy, but then he reminds them that his girlfriend was a virgin before he got to her and they all back down, knowing they're dating sluts (err, non-virgins, that is).

The relationship these guys have is the exact depiction of what I think things could be like if everybody embraced their silly stereotypes and stopped taking everything so damn seriously. The End.

I came in to work today to find the girl in the mailroom crying. This is what happened (and I’m giving you the abridged version because I’m sick and feeling awfully sorry for myself right now).

The Israeli girl marched into the mailroom yesterday with a little silk bag containing a pair of her shoes and said, “The Publisher’s Wife told me to have you take these to get fixed.”

After hosting some moral dilemma in her mind (“This is not in my job description. Do it on your own time, bitch”), the mailroom girl decided to write the Israeli Girl an email telling her exactly that: “I may be a lowly slave, but I don’t do your personal errands.”

The Israeli Girl wrote back and said that she had broken the heel on the job, so she wants them fixed.

The mailroom girl responded that she didn’t care where she broke it nor does she need an explanation—this just isn’t part of her job.

The Israeli Girl, instead of backing down and feeling humbled for making such an asinine request, complained about the mailroom girl to the Publisher’s Wife.

This morning the Publisher’s Wife demanded that the mailroom girl apologize to the Israeli Girl.

When I found the mailroom girl crying, she said she’d rather quit than apologize.

I used to like the Israeli Girl. Now I don’t. If anyone needs a mailroom girl, email me and I’ll tell her to send her resume. Going to sleep. I’ll be back on Monday with, I hope, some Manwhore Superbowl Stories.

A letter from Ben, because it's interesting and because I think I've come down with a case of mono (or something else that has drained my energy and put me in a state of wakeful sleep--hence, no post yesterday):


Please don't think I'm one of those wacko Jews you meet in New York who suddenly start yelling and quoting all kinds of dates and history and stuff, but your whole trip has me kind of excited so this is a long message.

-I don’t think all Jews are wacko, just a few of those who I work with.

Since living in Austria, my whole sensitivity to this stuff has changed. The difference between for-real Nazis in this country and racist assholes in the USA is that the Austrian guys aren't afraid to tell you to your face that they'd gas you again. So, like, in the magazine office, do you lie all the time?

-No, after a few mishaps the first few weeks, it turned out to be a less dangerous situation than I thought. I think the concept of someone posing as a Jewish guy is so bizarre that it’s not something anyone expects or assumes. I can get by as long as I don’t date anyone who works here, and that doesn’t seem to be in the stars right now, so I’m just cruisin’ along.

I guess I should just read your blog, but do you like, have to tell stories about your Bar Mitzvah or are you just like, "we weren't religious when I was a kid."

-No. If I had to do that, I’d be fired. As it turns out, I am a bit more ignorant than I initially thought I was about religion (read: Judaism). I thought I was pretty well-rounded when it came to religious topics, but I was humbled when I started working here.

What do you think of those Polish Archbishops who were spying for the communists?

-That’s a difficult question because I don’t know what the circumstances were. For instance, when I was really young, my great grandfather recalled his experiences growing up with slavery and segregation. I told him then that I wouldn’t have participated in racism and he “corrected” me, saying that the climate was such that you actually believed it was just how things are. That never sat well with me. However, perhaps the Archbishops were in the same state of mind as gramps. (The "this is how things are" mindset), which, again, I don't agree with (but, even again, it's hard to have an informed opinion about the 'inside' when you're on the 'outside')

Do you think that the pope during the Holocaust supported the Nazis because he was an Anti-Semite, or because the Nazis had a gun to his head, or a mixture of the two?

-I think that there was a lot of brainwashing going on during this time. Human beings are innately weak. It’s easy to manipulate what they think. Perhaps he was not initially Anti-Semitic, but with a bit of dark “education,” he became so. On the other hand, the Pope, of all people, should know right from wrong, so to speak. Clearly this was wrong; inhumane; sick. There's little rational argument to the contrary.

Just to talk Catholicism for a minute. I'm Atheist. I know Jews are mixed up a lot. Not more or less than other people I hope. Regarding yesterday’s post, I think the girl has a right to be agnostic, which is like pussy-footing around being Atheist. But anyway, she's still Jewish. You don't need Hitler for the political argument either. I can go to the extreme left. Lenin and Stalin and those guys thought that Jews would just jettison their Jewishness once they got hip to communism. Lenin called the Jewish socialist organization that had been a big part of the February 1917 revolution, something like "Zionists who are afraid of the water" or something like that. Most of the left back then was thinking that way as well. Thinking of religion is an opiate of the masses, that the only identity you need is class identity, not race or religion or whatever. But check out Rudolph Rocker, the German Anarcho-Syndicalist. He heard about a Jewish anarchist meeting in London and he thought, "ha ha, that's an oxymoron, anarchists don't believe in god!" So he went, and then it totally turned him on, he thought the Jewish anarchists were way more passionate than the German or British scenes. So, he learned Yiddish and became the editor of a Jewish anarchist newspaper. Emma Goldman was a famous anarchist, obviously opposed to Zionism, but then she got into a debate with British anarchists who were against letting Jewish refugees into Palestine in the early years of the rise of fascism. So what kinda catholic are you? Polish? Italian? Irish? malt-f'in-tese? Austrian? Most of my friends grew up catholic.

Italian. Amen.