Not Chosen, Just Posin'

2007-03-21T14:57:00.000-07:00

I’m retiring this blog and this job. I’ve accepted a position with another company and I’m here only until the end of the week. Giving a two-week notice is for pushovers.

I realize that it’s a sad day for Fake Jews everywhere. I didn’t even get to sit in on a Seder dinner. I’ve still got a yarmulke, though, so let me know if you need me to fill in.

I was going to do a FAQ here, but I’m too lazy. Plus, the main questions I get are these:

Q: Are you an anti-Semite?
A: Yawn.

Q: What’s your name?
A:

Q: Where do you work?
A:

Q: Why are you such a self-promoting asshole?
A:

Q: Can I give you a blow job in the back of a cab?
A: Totally.

Anyway, it was fun. I learned a lot. I’m still writing the novel [would like to write non-fiction but would hate to get sued for slander] and getting down to the roots of the whole “Jewish as a religion or an ethnicity” argument. My methods are, of course, dubious, but pretty interesting if you’re into that stuff. And if you are into that stuff, sign up for updates on the green box to the right. Email me if you want. That means you, Emily Gould at Gawker. Last I checked you were going to let me feel you up. Max at the Post: You can out me at some point.

In my next incarnation I’ll be a failed Jewish editor who somehow scored a high-paying job at an advertising agency by lying about his experience and giving false references. Or maybe this is me. You never know with these things. Stay tuned.

2007-03-20T11:35:00.000-07:00

Apprarently BaconJew is feeling quite rebellious due to his bacon-eating habits. He has honed in on this unique quality of his and turned it into a self-promotional marketing campaign.

Given that it’s the Chinese Year of the Pig, BaconJew has started branding himself the year’s official mascot. He has bought a pig-laden watch and several pieces of pig apparel – some of which I suspect he created from iron-on transfers. Everything he writes, he dates as such: "March 20th, Year of the Pig". I think he’s somehow managed to add the following image to all of his email signatures:

Last, but certainly not least, when someone calls his cell phone, it oinks.

OrthoJew, quite frankly, is sickened by the whole thing.

I am sickened by the fact that I just heard the Publisher’s Wife telling someone she was cute.

In context: “Well, it doesn’t matter; I’m a lot cuter than [male’s name].” As a very heterosexual male, I can’t name a single guy that she is “cuter” than.

2007-03-19T14:08:00.000-07:00

I will be out of town with very limited access to this high maintenance blog today, March 19th. If you have questions regarding the Manwhore or any other of my various areas of expertise, please feel free to email me here.

2007-03-16T11:33:00.000-07:00

New scheme alert!

The Publisher's Wife is already planning her annoying daughters' bat mitzvahs. They're probably eight or nine years old, so she's way too ahead of the game (read: has nothing better to do). She has the date and the place already booked. I overheard her talking to her friend on the phone about it today and she suggested they take a week off to go food and wine tasting for it. Brilliant!

I'm going to do the same thing but instead of a bat mitzvah, I'm going to say I'm planning my wedding. I just don't look old enough to have a 13-year old. Anyway, I plan to eat for free at every single event hall in Manhattan. Considering I don't plan on staying here too much longer, the food should hold me over until I find another job.

Reluctantly I admit: The Publisher's Wife is a genius.

2007-03-15T10:15:00.000-07:00

Updates:

OrthoJew
A while back our very own strict religionist mentioned how she thought that humans should fulfill their exercise regimens by hunting and gathering. Now she has confessed that while she’s still not willing to buy a gym membership, she is working out daily to the exercise channel. “How do you get your cardio?” “I do Tae Bo with Billy Blanks.”

The associated imagery is painful.

BaconJew…
…has been very depressed lately. Reason being, he came up with his best invention yet, only to realize that it has already been invented. He was really tired at work one day and had this idea to have places where you can go and sleep during your lunch break. They would be cleaned after each use and you could buy a yearly membership, guaranteeing you, the customer, a quick nap whenever you need to recharge. The Silent Designer, who spent some time in Korea, informed him that they had those over there. OrthoJew added that there is such a place in the Empire State Building as well. They’re called “Sleeping Pods.”

The SmellyDesigner
Speaking of inventions, one of the SmellyDesigner's friends came up with a new product: Can' A Bliss. It's weed-scented fragrance spray. Because, you know, why wouldn't you want to smell like weed? Duh.

In other smelly news, the Silent Designer reported that the Smelly one rolled her chair over to his desk the other day to ask him a question. Upon taking a wiff of her musky aura, the Silent Designer claims to having almost puked on the spot. “What are you, some kind of hippy?” He asked her. Not bashful at all, she told him that marketers have conned Americans into thinking that they need deodorant when, really, the body eliminates the smell naturally if you give it the chance. “Your body hasn’t eliminated any smell.” He responded. Smelly and OrthoJew should really compare notes/philosophies.

The Publisher’s Wife…
…is getting sued by the Account Executive she fired last year. Despite being dismissed for no good reason, the ex-sales girl is claiming that the Publisher’s Wife put her in physical harm.

The Publisher…
…is getting sued by a slew of freelancers who haven’t been paid

I…
…am looking for a new job.

2007-03-14T11:23:00.000-07:00

The new trend for spring, at least in this office, is conferences.

I have successfully finagled my way into a conference every week for the past few weeks. Of course, when you work where I work there are both pros and cons to attending these things.

Pros:

-Conference = Day off. I usually stay just long enough to give a 2-minute report to the Publisher. Then I leave.
-Free food
-If you’re lucky, free drinks
-Free bag of stuff (i.e. proof that you were there—make sure to bring it in the next day for the boss to see)
-Business chicks (They're aggressive and well put together)

Cons:

-My name tag says the name of my company.
-No one really has any need to “network” with the guy from the Jewish mag (i.e. “Where are you from? Oh, excuse me, I have to go say hi to someone over there”)
-Speakers covering obvious material you already know so as to appeal to an audience of varied experience
-Free bag of stuff (Guys shouldn’t carry around tote bags)
-Business Chicks (They're annoying and in-your-face)

Yesterday, I stayed until about 12:00 at which point I ran into the Paper Guy. He was there trying to swindle business, but wasn't having much luck. Evidently that’s what people do at these things--try to get business. Hmm. My timing was impeccable: He needed a drink. I needed a drink, and so we were off. After a gin on the rocks, I ended up calling the ex and saying some really polished, polite and educated things. All in a day’s work, I guess.

I took the subway home and got off on the wrong stop. I ran back on only to get laughed at by two Asian chicks. Wait...

By 2:00 I was sitting comfortably on my couch wondering why there’s nothing on TV during the day. Anything is better than being here though.

That said; if there are any conferences that you think I should be at, please let me know. I imagine I’ll agree with you.

2007-03-12T14:12:00.000-07:00

In Which the Manwhore Becomes a Caricature of Himself
The following is a mass email the Manwhore sent to all of his friends to discuss a bachelor party he attended. In lieu of flat out bragging that he was, indeed, at a bachelor party this weekend, he disguised his glee as a set of "tips" for us should we ever be invited to one. Gee thanks, Manwhore.

The Manwhore's letter (the recipients of which were not blind copied), was appropriately followed by another of our friends who wanted to "thank" us all for being there for him the last few months as he was studying for the GMAT. "Thank you for your support, which allowed me to get the following scores [attached]." Bastards--both of them.

All,

I flew to Chicago for the weekend. One of my buddies is getting married and he had his Bachelor party out there. It was the first, though I am sure not the last Bachelor party I will be at. I learned a lot of key lessons about what to do or not do:

1). Don’t let the Bachelor keep his cell phone (no matter what he says).
[Translation: "He's going to try to call his woman. Hello, Bros before Hoes! That's why it's called a bachelor party! Woo!]

2). Have 1 person on Bachelor duty at all times or else you run the risk of not seeing him fall down stairs and off of cars (both times onto pavement).
[Translation: "We got sooo drunk, bra..."]

3). Don’t bring TOO much money.
[Translation: "These people clearly don't roll how I roll."]

Note: The Manwhore's a personal trainer; does not roll how he rolls either.

4). Have your Bachelor party in Vegas or Paris or something. Not in your home town. At your buddies house. It depresses everyone. Or, at least, depressed me.
[Translation: "There were no strippers. The groom is Mormon. Clearly not an expert partier like myself."]

5). Don’t try to take the Bachelor out afterwards. Especially if he is bleeding from more than one part of his face.
[Translation: "Dudes just can't hang with me. I tend to punch people when I'm drunk."]

-Manwhore

Please note that the Manwhore capitalizes "Bachelor" as if he's talking about "God." Perhaps this is because Bachelorhood is the Manwhore's religion? Amen.

2007-03-09T17:30:00.000-08:00

Today ended as the Publisher's Wife brought a cd over to the Silent Designer's desk. She asked him to print out the saved pics of her golfing; print them out, and then mat them so that the end product is a seeming "action shot" of her taking a swing. She's hanging it on the wall at her house. Oh, the poor Publisher.

The reason the Publisher's Wife even has such a series of pictures is because she had the photo team, who was supposed to be shooting a model for our cover, take them of her while the model waited. When the crew was actually shooting the intended shots, the Publisher's Wife kept ordering them to "hurry, we don't have a lot of time." Then, as they passed an ornate bench, she had them take a picture of her reading the mag while sitting on the bench.

Now we have no good shot for the cover and the Silent Designer is pissed at all the photoshopping he's going to do--most likely to delete the Publisher's Wife from the background, where she was all but putting bunny ears behind the model's head to keep the attention focused on her.

In the meantime, if anyone has a good method of getting the Dumbshit Ad Guy to stop singing, "We're blogging now. We're blogging now," I'd be open to hearing it.

2007-03-08T15:47:00.000-08:00

The Publisher and his wife are taking up photography in order to cut costs. I imagine their photos will be almost as interesting as an Art 101 student's still life sketch of a vase on a table by a book.

On the same note, the Pub's wife and I were talking earlier about the budget for an upcoming photo shoot. She mistakes herself as someone who is A) Important B) Powerful, C) Glamorous D) Well-respected, and E) An Industry Legend. Here is her monologue about the 'Good Ol' Days':

"Back in the day I had an RV that would expand into multiple rooms where we got the models changed. I remember being in Miami. I had an assistant who, when i would say, 'it's time for a drink,' she already knew that she would have to drop her ass in a cab and go get me this specific drink that they only made in one place in Miami. It was a frozen drink so she had to be quick, 'cos it was hot. Yep, I just snapped my fingers...it's time for a drink. Off she would go."

2007-03-07T11:12:00.000-08:00

Sans serif and Serif on the same page? Why, I never...
Guffaw. Guffaw.

The Smelly Designer is helping us update the website--blog and everything. The annoying ad sales guy (the only one who is left; the only one who should have been fired at all) is exerting his opinion and assumed importance, by making observations about her progress. I think he assumes his commentary on the matter is considered productivity. This is not the case.

As an aside, I've noticed that the smelly designer has a man face. This isn't necessarily a bad thing. Giselle has a man face, too, but she's still attractive. She-man. Ha.

So, here's the email from the ad guy to the smelly She-man designer (sic everything):

Smelly Designer,

Just taking time to go thru the site…with the new blog and all. I am aggressively beginning to try to sell space on the site… [Ed's note: You only sold 6 ads in the last issue, what makes you think you can sell space on our 50 hit per month website? Thanks.]

Observation: Do you want consistency with typeface/font? Open the site to the current issue page. I see what looks like an arial/clean-edged typeface on some features and what looks like times-roman on others…

Best regards,

Dumbshit Ad Guy

Bless her smelly little heart, the Smelly Designer gave it right back to our self-important slacker:

Dumbshit Ad Guy,

These are issues that we are looking at. The blog was put up in a about 2 hours, of course there are going to be issues. The old site was made by someone who didn't know what they were doing. The files are extremely unorganized. There are a ton of other things that are wrong with the site and changes are being made in the near future. The site is going to be restructured in due time.

By the way, where are you going to sell ad space? The site currently does not support ads. Let me see your media kit with dimensions before you attempt to "aggresively sell."

Thanks,

Smelly

2007-03-06T17:35:00.000-08:00

I had a conference all day, but I picked up a new piece of Jewish trivia:

Acording to a cab driver in Las Vegas, the reason the Venitian has so many security guards is because it's owned by Orthodox Jews.

This was the Publisher's Wife's piece of trivia, actually. No one at the table got how the security guards and the Orthodox Jews correlated. Neither did she, which made everyone wonder why she repeated the anecdote.

Here were the resulting responses:

"Was the cab driver Muslim?" (No)

"Is the Venitian open on Saturdays?" (Yes)

"Why do Jews supposedly have more security guards than their counterparts?" (Something about 9/11)

"Oh." (Oh)

2007-03-05T10:52:00.000-08:00

First off, the Manwhore is seeing the Israeli girl again, again, again. Judging by his delivery of the news (“She’s all psycho and jealous now”), he’s pretty unenthusiastic about the whole situation. All involved unanimously replied, “Any girl who dates you has to be.” True. True.

Fortunately for him, the Israeli was doing Purim stuff on Saturday. Since the Manwhore had brilliantly suggested they "take it slow," he didn't have to participate in the festivities. "I would but we're moving way too fast, baby."

Off the hook, we walked into our favorite bar on Saturday night and before we even ordered drinks, he was making out with some chick. Yes, yes—typical Manwhore fashion. It’s not as if the Manwhore needed to order drinks, though. Being the cheap bastard that he is, the Manwhore’s preferred method of getting liquored up is walking up to random girls, offering them a little, “Hi, how you doin’?” as he starts drinking from their straws. Usually he’s half way through their drinks before they catch on. It’s a good way to save money if you can stand to sip on cosmos and appletinis. I, for one, can not.

The Manwhore ate for free that night as well. After the festivities, we went to a 24-hour diner to get gravy cheesy fries (highly recommended), but before they arrived, the Manwhore was leaning into the next table, stabbing a girl’s spaghetti with his fork; twirling it and letting it drop into his mouth. He chewed it dramatically to make this act seem part of his stand up routine, when in reality he was starving and not willing to foot the bill. Also, you have to take into consideration that this diner was the last leg of our Saturday night tour. If he didn’t find a girl to take home there, he’d have to wait until, God Forbid, Sunday. Somehow the Manwhore’s whole spaghetti thing was charming in comparison to the scumbag sitting at a table across from us. When the waitress asked said scumbag for his order, he replied, “an omelet.” When the waitress asked the scumbag what he wanted in his omelet, the scumbag screamed (warning…racy material to come…), “I want pussy on my omelet!”

Before the scumbag was kicked out, the Manwhore went up to introduce himself. I think he might be replacing me with a more fitting friend.

The Manwhore went home with the Spaghetti chick.

Update: The Manwhore cried like a little girl about me posting the Israeli's picture, so I had to take it down.

2007-03-02T11:58:00.000-08:00

Ask and you shall recieve, oh anonymous commenter! I planned on writing about all the crap I mentioned earlier, but the Paper guy, bless his little heart, just took me to lunch and we drank a lot. A lot, I say. I have yet to tell him I make none of the buying decisions, but at the rate I'm going with the free drinks/food, I would be a fool to do so.

So, what I'm going to do for you is this. I'm going to give you a recipe for Hamantaschen or "Hamen's ear." I don't know about you all, but this whole "ear eating" stuff seemed weird until I realized we Catholics eat little wafer's that are supposed to be the flesh of Christ. There you have it. That said, I've bolded the problem area of this recipe.

3 1/4 cup sugar 2 cups all-purpose flour 2 teaspoons baking powder

1 1/4 teaspoon salt

8 tablespoons unsalted butter or margarine (1 stick), cut into small pieces

1 egg, lightly beaten

3 tablespoons fresh orange juice
Filling: 1/4 pound dried figs, chopped

1 1/2 cup water

Teaspoon fresh lemon juice

Mix it together and don't fold it like the one pictured above or you're going to hell. Merry Purim.

2007-03-02T11:04:00.000-08:00

Yeah, not so much...

There is one more implication of the Jesus Tomb finding that I failed to report. That would be:

Jesus = Elvis

Let me explain. According to “fans” everywhere, Jesus is still alive. Same goes for Elvis.

Also,
Christians: “The Lord is King.”
Music Lovers: “Nope, Elvis is king.”

While we still don’t know definitively who the real king is, we do know that if Jesus = Elvis and Jesus is dead, then Elvis is also dead. And while we're at it, Jesus = Tupac = dead.

I'll return with BaconJew's newest invention, OrthoJew's new workout, and news of the new lawsuit that kept me away from my computer all day yesterday...

2007-02-28T13:20:00.000-08:00

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."

2007-02-28T10:25:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-02-27T11:40:00.000-08:00

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."

2007-02-26T11:29:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-02-23T17:15:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-02-23T11:49:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-02-22T15:44:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-02-21T09:51:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-02-20T13:49:00.000-08:00

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).

2007-02-19T13:28:00.000-08:00

...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.

2007-02-16T15:47:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-02-15T17:21:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-02-15T16:14:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-02-14T16:14:00.000-08:00

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!

2007-02-14T13:02:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-02-13T13:36:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-02-12T11:16:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-02-09T11:08:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-02-08T13:30:00.000-08:00

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

2007-02-07T10:39:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-02-06T08:09:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-02-05T11:10:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-02-02T14:37:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-02-01T11:18:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-01-30T11:09:00.000-08:00

So, if Friday night was happy hour with the Manwhore and his legion of women, then Saturday night was my friend's thirtieth birthday. She and two other friends, who were also turning thirty, collaborated to host a three-hour open bar at a place down in SoHo. It was brilliant.

There were about 100 people crammed into a relatively small room. Once I got to the bar, I decided it would be best to stay there. I became the nucleus for everyone’s drink orders and, by default, the captive victim of some retired lawyer from Los Angeles. He also refused to leave the bar. His son was one of the guys throwing the party. It was pretty uncomfortable considering the televisions above the bar were set to bad 1970s porn, and he was a dirty old guy, who really enjoyed said programs. After a few drinks he began giving me pointers about women to the tune of, “You have to employ the pencil trick.”

The pencil trick?

“Yeah, the pencil trick. If you put a pencil under her breasts and it sticks, they’re too saggy. You want the pencil to fall.”

Stuff like that. Eventually he asked me, “Are you Jewish?” I told him, “No—technically Catholic, but Agnostic.”

He was Jewish.

“My daughter tries to pull that ‘I’m agnostic’ crap too. I tell her that she’s Jewish no matter what she believes. She can’t run away from that.”

Him and I get into my current favorite discussion, the one wherein we decide if Judaism is an ethnicity, a religion, a race or all of the above.

Here’s his conclusion:

“Like I tell my daughter--if she were to have told Hitler that she was agnostic, it wouldn’t have made a difference. He would have still thrown her into his camps. There are other deciding factors we must take into consideration.”

This was a new vantage point that I considered as carefully as was possible in my current state. I liked it. But after some more thought, I realized that it was weird that this Jewish man summoned Hitler’s decision-making skills in deciding the status of his religion/ethnicity/race. Maybe it simply backed something he already believed (i.e. Judaism as an ethnicity + religion)? I don't know--just seems like a decision he should probably leave big H out of.

2007-01-29T14:15:00.000-08:00

I got a call from the Manwhore during work on Friday. He knows I don’t pick up my cell phone while in the office, so I let it go to voicemail. I listened to his message a few minutes later while in the bathroom. It seemed urgent, so I risked occupying the stall for entirely way too long to call him back.

Him: “Do you have a second? I have a story for you.”

Me: “Sure, what’s up?”

Here he goes into a story about one of his rival physical trainers. (Real important stuff here—I’m glad everyone in the office thinks I’m taking a shit for this).

The story is this: Friday night we had plans to go out for happy hour with a bunch of friends. One of the “junior physical trainers” from his gym planned to tag along. He wrote the Manwhore an email asking if he could bring along one of his girl friends. A dumb question, indeed, considering the Manwhore’s track record. The more girls the merrier, obviously.

A bit later, the Manwhore gets an email from evil, rival, nemesis physical trainer guy (not to be confused with junior physical trainer guy):

“Hey, I hear you’re going out with my girlfriend tonight. Hands off. Wink. Wink.”

The Manwhore, who had no idea who his girlfriend was, wrote back:

“Who’s your girlfriend? You should explain the house rules to her, big daddy. I’m not dating you. Wink. Wink.”

Of course, this led the Manwhore to gleefully speculate about what this girl must have been saying about him. After all, it must have been good to elicit such a prick-ish email.

Friday night, the girlfriend marched in and gravitated directly to the Manwhore, announcing, “My boyfriend is so mad we’re hanging out.”

The Manwhore leaned over and whispered, “What a little slut.” I left shortly thereafter but here’s the outcome:

To: Manwhore
From: Me
Subject: Re: Last Night

What happened with that chick? I forgot to ask.

To: Me
From: Manwhore
Subject: Re: Re: Last Night

The chick? She broke her BF’s rule about not touching me.

2007-01-26T06:41:00.000-08:00

OrthoJew's new mug.

BaconJew has started yet another business. In fact, he's running it right out of the office: Selling books on Amazon. I just caught him packing up Vurt, by Jeff Noon, and putting it in a company envelope, with a company label, company tape and company postage. He just laughed when I called him on it. The guy has no fear (there's nothing more frightening than having your penis chopped at six years old, and he's already gone through that, so...). I asked him how much he would make off this deal. "$2.49," he responded. ($1.00 for the book, $1.49 for shipping). At that rate, he kind of has to finagle free shipping. Otherwise, he'd be losing money. Come to think of it, I have a few books I'd like to get rid of.

In other news, I have a theory about the Publisher's Wife. I think that perhaps a number of her royal screw-ups are purposeful. She simply enjoys making other peoples' lives a living hell. Case in point: The other day when she was out of town, she "accidentally" left her suit jacket at the airport. So, yesterday the Secretary who Reeks of Cigarettes spent the entire day calling the airport trying to locate it. Come on, you know and I know that the jacket is a lost cause, but I think the joy the Publisher's Wife got from having a personal slave the whole day was more rewarding than locating the jacket

Finally, this might just be karma that the Secretary brought upon herself. OrthoJew confided in me (me!) the other day about a minor "situation." That being, she bought her own personal mug for the office since she can't stand the thought of using the "public" mugs in the kitchen. Just a day after she brought it in, OrthoJew noticed that the Secretary had it on her desk. OrthoJew went up to her and said, "Let me know when you're done with the mug. I want to use it." The Secretary informed her that there are plenty of other mugs in the kitchen. Sheepish, OrthoJew failed to say anything to her, but has been plotting to get the mug back for days now. When the Secretary sent out a mass email today saying she'd be out because her son is sick, OrthoJew ran up and stole the cup, claiming that "I feel bad. I'm going to write my name on it high school style."

2007-01-25T12:56:00.000-08:00

In prepping for tomorrow’s brainstorming session, I thought about how cool it would be it this magazine was, well, a different magazine. Point being, I want to do a theme issue. If this were a cool magazine I would propose a “Stereotype" issue. In it, we could mix humor and serious discussions. We could present several stereotypes, explore their origins, and make people comfortable discussing them. No more taboos. “Yeah, I’ve got a big nose and I’m cheap…and that’s okay!” Well, you see what I’m getting at.

Since this is not a cool magazine, I’ll propose something boring, like the "Israel" issue or the "Heritage" issue.

However, I am willing to let HEEB steal my idea if they want it. No really, HEEB—if you’re out there—you should consider it. Then again, maybe you’ve already done it?

2007-01-23T13:57:00.000-08:00

Shown Above: Me, doing something very doctor-esque

Yesterday afternoon the Publisher's Wife managed to trump herself. No, I didn't know this was possible either. As you know, last week she called me to bitch about something during my lunch break. Yesterday, to my chagrin, she wasn't in the office. However, at about 4:30 she called to speak to me. I was in the restroom at this precise moment, but true to form I heard a knock at the door. "Out in a minute," I yelled. Here I heard the door open, followed by a woman's voice. It was the Secretary: "The Publisher's Wife is on the phone. I told her you were in here and she told me to come get you." Needless to say, what she was calling about was not important at all.

And this prompted me to do a little research concerning my earlier diagnosis. Here's what I found:

Symptoms of Menopause:

"Women gain an average of a pound a year after the age of 40."
This is an understatement. Check!

"Low sex drive is a common finding at menopause. Often this can be treated by testosterone supplementation."
Seeing as how she's an aging Jap, this has probably always been an issue. In regards to testosterone supplements, if she's taking them then that even further explains her five o'clock shadow. So, check!

"Those infamous hot flashes are one of the first signs of menopause they are difficult to treat but are usually short-lived."
Previously discussed. Check.

"Women who suffer from PMS (Pre-Menstrual Syndrome),PMDD (Pre-Menstrual Dysphoric Disorder)or depression are more likely to experience mood swings during menopause."

If there's supposed to be an upside, I haven't seen it yet. No check here.

"Memory Problems. Did you ever find yourself looking in the closet but not knowing what you are looking for only to remember what it was when you got back to the kitchen? You are not alone."

Considering the size of her tuchus* she has clearly been back and forth from the kitchen, and no she is not alone. That thing is a lifelong companion. Checkkkk!

In my professional opinion, she should discontinue coming to work indefinitely. I would hate to find out this stuff is contagious.

*Jewish vocab alert

2007-01-22T15:23:00.000-08:00

Since the Manwhore can't read or write, here's an informal yet proprietary interview with our Monday star:

Me: What the hell happened to your hair?
MW: I need to get it cut.
Me: Yeah, you think? You look like Sonic the Hedgehog.

Me: What's up with the Puerto Rican?
MW: Chillin'

Me: What's up with the Israeli Girl?
MW: Same old.

Me: What's up with the Greek Girl?
MW: Her sister is smokin'. Have you seen my new client?

Me: I think you photoshopped that picture. I've seen her before and she wasn't cute.
MW: That's because I've been training her.

Me: You're like a low-bill plastic surgeon, molding chicks into shape so you can sleep with them.
MW: I like her for her personality.
Me: Clearly.

Me: Are you coming over for Halo Tuesday?
MW: I'll be there.

The Manwhore isn't much of a conversationalist. He refuses to share tricks of the trade, but if you'd like to write in a question for him, he promises to answer it with as much titillating detail as he provided above.

2007-01-19T16:38:00.000-08:00

The Mystery of the Publisher's Wife's Attitude Problem: Solved

One of the girls in the office was fanning herself off because it was especially hot in here today. She cited, "I'm going through menopause," as the reason for her sudden hot flashes. (Note: She's 24, maybe 25)

The Publisher's Wife replied, "You and me both."

Yeah, you think?

(And thus was revealed the mystery that could previously only be explained by a closet cocaine addiction and subsequent withdrawal symptoms, to be quite frank...)

2007-01-19T10:21:00.000-08:00

The chick at the bagel shop is finally onto me. I've taken up eating lox & bagel over the past few months (yes, a hazard of the job, but I should note that I'm the only one in the office who eats these things regularly so maybe the stereotype isn't completely true--but who cares if it were?) Anyway, a few days a week I go to the bagel shop next door and get one for breakfast. They're supposed to cost $6.50 but the bagel girl always gives them to me for $2.50 and then winks. I nod and just go with it, acting like that's what I should be paying.

After about a month of this, she raised the price to $3.10, then $3.50 and then finally, today, she raised it to $4.50. While I'm still $2.00 under cost, I want to figure out why she's raising the price on me before she raises it again. I can't exactly ask her and make reference to the fact that I know I'm underpaying, or she'll start charging me full price. Am I supposed to be tipping her? Asking her out? Promising her bagel-infused sex in the storage room? This is starting to sound like a very dimented "Dear Abby" letter, so I'll stop.

2007-01-18T15:10:00.000-08:00

I am so anxious that I even get anxiety when thinking about calling the doctor for anxiety pills.

But you must understand, the last time I visited Doc, he cussed out the people at my insurance company while I was sitting there; told me 6 very unfunny Polack jokes, and discussed “ass goblins” amongst other medical terms.

The Publisher’s Wife, however, is the primary cause of my anxiety. There are a hundred reasons why she stresses me out (the core reason being that she is innately annoying), but her ability to cause me anxiety is another story. This has been going on for a few weeks now.

Let’s use yesterday as a case study. First off, she had lunch with two of our main clients. Two clients whom, I might add, I work with on an almost-daily basis. Two clients whom she rarely works with and with whose accounts she is completely unfamiliar. Why wouldn’t I be invited? Well, obviously I didn’t want to go, but it made me curious: Is my job in jeopardy? It’s a legitimate curiosity considering she’s been coming to look at my computer screen as of late, asking what I’m working on.

Anyway, seeing as how I had no plans for lunch, I took our paper supplier up on his offer to go to Italian near my work. Considering the idiom, there’s “no such thing as a free lunch,” I’m assuming he continually treats me to lunch because he wants to continue doing business with us. Although, I’m pretty sure he's lacking in the friends department as well.

Within five minutes of sitting down, the Publisher’s Wife called my cell phone to bitch at me about something she wanted me to do when I got back. That is my solitary hour a day to breath and not think about work and she ruined it (I rarely even take lunch, so it was even worse). I had ordered some tea, which I promptly swapped for a gin on the rocks. She is so not pleasant. I sat there tense, furrowing my brow, picking at my nails. The printer looked at me and said, “Let me be frank with you, you are not getting paid enough to be putting yourself under this pressure.”

We discussed what was going to happen when I returned to the office. I told him that if she threw one of her temper tantrums, I was out. We discussed the implications of that move and they aren’t pretty considering I basically have no money saved up and, furthermore, half of Time Inc’s editorial staff has been fired so it would be virtually impossible to get a job at an NYC publication right now. Nevertheless, he convinced me that it wasn’t worth it [to stay here] and I agreed. Given all of that… the Publisher’s Wife was oddly pleasant when I returned (probably satisfied with the thought of having ruined my lunch). Of course, today is another day ad infinitum.

(I just have to keep asking myself, “What the hell does she do here anyway??”)

2007-01-17T10:52:00.000-08:00

BaconJew—weighed down by the guilt of being called, well, BaconJew—opted to give turkey bacon a whirl. The verdict?

“Tastes like smoked deli meat.”
“It doesn’t even leave grease in the pan.”
“It’s pre-cooked. I could eat it straight out of the package.”
“It’s painted with food coloring so that it looks like bacon.”

BaconJew has ultimately concluded that because he’s Russian, he is not held to the same standards as his counterparts. Russians love their pork, evidently.

(To those of you who are wondering who the hell BaconJew is—he’s the one who, many months ago, declared that he still remembers his bris since he was six when he had it. He had to wait until he migrated here from Russia to be circumcised).

As you can imagine, OrthoJew does not agree with BaconJew and she wasn't afraid to say as much. Do I really need to tell you how the lecture went?

It, just like this post, was not very interesting.

2007-01-16T11:44:00.000-08:00

It's funny the things that can bring an otherwise miserable married couple together.

This morning, for instance, the Publisher's Wife received a seven (seven!) page letter from an advertiser detailing how rude and incompetent she is...amongst other things. Unfortunately, I haven't yet had a chance to see the actual letter, but since I sit within arm's reach of the Publisher's office, I can hear everything. The Publisher has oddly taken more offense at the letter than his wife and has been calling up everyone he knows to complain about it. Here are some of the highlights:

"She is unfit to be around kids." (The Publisher's rebuttal: "She's the best mother my children could have.")

"She yells at people as a means of communication." (The Publisher's rebuttal: "She was yelling at him to calm down because he was freaking out about something!")

"She writes out 'G_d' in emails." Examples: "Thank G_d" "Oh, my G_d" (The Publisher's rebuttal: As if he's some kind of an angel, always trying to weasel out of payments!)

"She treats her staff like they're slaves." (The Publisher, not surprisingly, did not argue here)

"She's unpleasant and is always complaining about someone." (The Publisher's rebuttal: "That's the pot calling the kettle black." Note: He didn't deny it)

"She's often inappropriately dressed to conduct business." (The Publisher's rebuttal: "What the hell is she supposed to wear to sell an ad? She can wear sweat pants for all I care." Note: Why is she selling ads in the first place? Oh yeah, because she fired two of our three ad sales people)

Since I'm relying solely on regurgitated hatred, that's all I've got right now. It's funny to see this couple come together to combat the only thing they actually have in common: hatred. Furthermore, I should add that the Publisher's Wife is totally guilty of everything stated above (less the first one).

And speaking of spying on something that is none of my business, my Co-worker with the cheating father had to postpone her crackdown this Saturday. Her father was home the whole weekend. He must know that they're onto him.

2007-01-15T12:27:00.000-08:00

Dearest Manwhore,

I have a request for the you to make a guest appearance on the site. Do you want to write a guest post? (I know you probably don't know how to read or write, but I can help). I'm thinking maybe it could be called "The Origins of the Manwhore" and you can talk about your evolution into what you are today. A "Manwhore Timeline" of sorts. Interested?

-NCJP

I wrote this on Thursday, but he hasn't responded and I forgot to bring it up to him on Saturday. He was in a bad mood because the Puerto Rican girl was mad at him. He came up to my apartment before we went out and she waited in the lobby. (When I say "lobby," I actually mean "the little space separating the front door from the stairwell")

When I got downstairs, I asked her why she was mad. I assumed it had to be her suspicions about another girl, in which case, I wouldn't blame her. But, no. Her belt, which was composed of multiple chains, had got stuck on her panty hose. She was trying to fix it and asked the Manwhore for help. Here he had stepped out of the cab and opened her door. She was pissed because the Manwhore didn't care that the whole world was going to see her in her panty hose. He said he just hadn't heard her. As it turns out, I'm still not really sure why she was mad.

Anyway, the Manwhore came up with a brilliant idea that night. He's going to start dating younger girls. After all, the Puerto Rican has two kids and way too much baggage; the Greek girl was going through a divorce, and the Israeli girl still wants him to move to Tel Aviv with her. So, how is he going to go about getting these girls? Easy, he's going to start pretending he's a model/talent scout from now on. It makes complete sense. He searches for new talent and lies to girls on a regular basis anyway. Now, he'll just get a fake business card and make it official. The Manwhore Timeline will be ever the more interesting if he goes through with it.

2007-01-12T10:26:00.000-08:00

No can do today...

I explained to Harley a few days ago that updating has been a bitch lately. I have to write my posts in Outlook as if I'm writing the world's longest email, and then copy and paste. I'll be back Monday, but, in the meantime, read Harley's dissertation on the Jews loving Italians phenomenon.

2007-01-11T14:15:00.000-08:00

Forget the Jap Workout, OrthoJew has a better idea.

OrthoJew rises from the dead; says something stupid.

To the office’s collective chagrin, OrthoJew has been pretty quiet as of late. However, when she broke her vow of silence this morning, it was exactly what one would expect (hope!) to come out of her mouth. After all, she'd been letting her thoughts brew some few days without an ounce of spillage.

The topic was treadmills. Her two cents were:

“Human beings weren’t built for running in place on a moving platform. They’re workers; their exercise should come from hunting and gathering.”

Hey, whatever works for you, cave woman. Superficially, though, OrthoJew’s not winning any fitness awards here. The Manwhore might even accept her as a client if she put out a little more (Sorry OrthoJew’s husband).

Later in the morning we all received a passive aggressive email from her highness:

From: OrthoJew
Sent: Thursday, January 11, 2007
To: Everyone in the office
Subject: If someone from ______ calls for me...

….please direct them to me, and not into someone else’s voicemail!

Thanks.

We all liked her so much more 24 hours ago.

2007-01-10T14:29:00.000-08:00

Cheating Sees No Color, Religion

I’ve gone back and forth regarding posting about the girl in my office who is dealing with her cheating father.

Usually my conscious is pretty clear about dishing out the dirt on my co-workers, but I actually like this girl. I decided I'd go forth with the story but wouldn't tell you which coworker it is. Obviously, me giving you her fictional name wouldn’t do much in the way of helping you identify her, but every now and then I think that a reader or two might just know where I work, but are doing me the favor of keeping mum on the subject to save my ass. If so, they might also know who I work with. (Thank you, by the way, if you are doing this) Another reason I wasn’t going to post this is because I’d always heard that Jewish men were known as being faithful, so I didn’t want to burst my female readers’ collective bubble (Having sisters makes me sensitive to chicks' feelings). As it turns out, however, there are always exceptions to the rule. Sorry ladies.

Here goes. Coworker and I haven’t been talking a lot lately (not for any particular reason) but she approached me on Monday and said, “I need to tell you something personal.”

Since I’m really self-centered, I assumed that it was something “personal” about me (maybe she knew about my blog or some other office gossip?) But no, it was about her. Her mother confided in her that she thought her father was cheating. They’ve been together for 30 years now. For as long as he’s had a cell phone, he has always put it on top of the TV. Lately it hasn’t been there. Also, he’s been getting up in the middle of the night to “move the car.” For those of you who don’t live in New York City, sometimes this is necessary as one side of the street is open to parking during the day and then not open during the night. However, it would take him up to five hours to “move the car.” Mother asked daughter to figure out who the other woman was.

Now, you might be thinking that this isn’t enough to accuse someone of cheating, but if you’ve been with someone for 30 years, you pretty much know his or er routine. I mean, know his routine down to the most minute detail, such as whether he's a front to back wiper or vice versa. Coworker’s father, for instance, doesn’t have any friends. Yet, all of the sudden, he’s on the phone four or five times a day? Not likely. Then you have to factor in chicks and their detective-like intuition. When they know, they know. It’s tough to trick their intuition. Trust me, I’ve had to hear about it all my life with my sisters and my mom. Sometimes they’re so good they even know you’re going to mess up before you do it. There are tons of other indicators too: Coworker’s sister overheard Father saying, “You are the only one I love” to someone on the phone; Father said to Mother, “Why don’t we just continue living with each other and go our separate ways?” and Father’s EZ pass has racked up some significant charges over the past few months (mistress lives on Staten Island).

So, Coworker began the witch hunt by checking her father’s phone bills online, etc. She found out that the lady he’s been talking to is her sister’s husband’s mother. They’re basically related. Not only that, Coworker’s mother got the slut a job where they work…together. Coworker’s mother sees the mistress every day. If these were innocent conversations (average 45-55 minutes each), why wouldn’t Mistress mention to Mother that she had been talking to Father?

Coworker has instructed Mother not to say anything until she gets photo evidence, which she will then send out to everyone at their synagogue, not to mention friends and family. She also bought a recorder, with a recording capability of 32 hours, to stick under her father’s car seat. I commended her on her shady tactics. Didn't know she had it in her. The crack down is Saturday night. I’ll let you know.

2007-01-09T11:35:00.000-08:00

Something interesting happened yesterday. No, I’m not talking about the fact that one of my coworkers is in the process of hiring a detective because she thinks her father is cheating on her mother and she wants photographic evidence (more on that later, though). Rather, I was googling a few of the names for the fictional magazine in my book and I came up with an odd result.

My query was: “The Jewish Something” and the top result was this: www.google.com/explanation.

Here’s an excerpt from the very detailed, albeit not overly long, explanation:

“If you use Google to search for "Judaism," "Jewish" or "Jewish people," the results are informative and relevant. So why is a search for "Jew" different? One reason is that the word "Jew" is often used in an anti-Semitic context. Jewish organizations are more likely to use the word "Jewish" when talking about members of their faith. The word has become somewhat charged linguistically, as noted on websites devoted to Jewish topics…”

Evidently the use of the term “Jew” versus “Person of a Jewish persuasion,” or otherwise, is a pretty serious matter. That was one of the first things that my Jewish friends told me when I started the site. I didn’t, at that point, fully realize the word’s negative connotations. Guess, this further confirms it.

Anyway, thought I’d share.

2007-01-08T14:40:00.000-08:00

The Manwhore rejected a booty call this weekend. His excuse was that he didn’t want to travel all the way to Staten Island for an hour of sex, only to have to travel back. I mentioned that this wasn’t like him, checked his forehead to see if he had a fever and asked him why he didn’t invite the girl over to his place (it was the Puerto Rican girl)? This spawned a list of many rules one must follow to establish Manwhore status. “Manwhore-isms,” if you will:

1. Never invite a girl to your house. Always go to her place. Women get attached to “ideas of how things could be,” so if she sees your belongings and surroundings, she will have more ammunition to add to her vision of your future together. Trust me, she has one. Plus, 9 out of 10 times you have incriminating evidence of something lying around.

2. If you go to her house, avoid spending the night. This could elicit many tragedies, including, but not limited to, snuggling and enjoying a forced breakfast together.

3. Let another guy take your girl out and then go in for the close. Many girls will attempt to make you jealous by mentioning that another guy is taking them out. If you are put into this situation--rejoice!--and then tell her it’s fine; that you would love to see her after her date. This way, some poor schmuck gets stuck with the bill and you reap all of the benefits.

4. Be careful with tactic #3. The girl might start liking you more because you’re not jealous. It might be worthwhile to act just a little jealous so she doesn’t lose her confidence. It’s never fun to sleep with an insecure girl. They start doing weird things like asking you to turn off the lights during sex and mentioning that, “yes, the rumor’s true: I am the marriage type.”

5. Do not meet the parents, whatever you do. No need for explanation there.

6. Mention that you are sick of dating and are at the stage in your life where you are ready to settle down with someone. This tactic must be used the first time you meet the girl. It is absolutely NOT safe to use this any time thereafter. You see, if you use it on day 1, she could, in no way, assume that you are specifically talking about her. Day 2, however, is a totally different story. This goes back to Manwhore-ism number 1: She is creating some ideal and each new date is a new building block. The blocks will eventually build a monster. Use this method on a case-by-case basis.

7. If the girl says she’s a football (basketball or hockey) fan, run the other way! This could only mean two things: She’s picked up the habit for you (which is a sign that she’s pathetic and needy) or she has brothers who will eventually hunt you down and kill you. Seriously, beware.

I think that was it. I always tell myself that I should carry a notebook around for times like these, but I never do. It might be wise to print this list out and keep it in your pocket.

2007-01-08T11:04:00.000-08:00

Manwhore Monday coming shortly. Just thought I’d share this ad with you in the meantime.

Harley just reminded me that what Catholics and Jewish people have in common is their guilt.

That said, here is our collective solution (via Copyranter):

This is easily the laziest and most efficient way for us to ask for forgiveness. I, for one, am putting it on speed dial.

2007-01-06T12:52:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, our once-a-month status meeting lasted entirely way too long or I would have written. Actually, I attempted to start this post, but the Publisher's Wife kept on coming over to my desk, looking at my computer screen and asking me what I was working on. If she keeps pulling crap like that, you better believe the answer's going to be, "my resume." On that note, my New Year's resolution (I only have one) is to find a new job after a year here. I figure that I should experience every Jewish holiday and learn as much as I can before I go. Plus, a year is the minimum amount of time I like to have on my resume.

Anyway, I utilized my soapbox yesterday to again discuss boosting our internet traffic. Search Word optimization, online programs to engage readers, etc... We might be small, but we can create an illusion to the contrary. Plus, I don't think the Publisher yet realizes that his internet presence could be just as profitable as his print one. I spent a few days this week exploring sites that I admire and pinpointing the elements that intrigued me. I decided that our next initiative would be a simple, yet effective one. In the "About Us" section I want to add a "television" where each employee is featured briefly talking about his or herself. Most of the sites that have this feature belong to marketing or creative agencies. In these homemade videos, each employee is instructed to offer some totally "obscure" or "mysterious" fact ("I have a 125 pound pillow on my bed. It looks like a turtle") meant to make you think that they are a lot deeper than you and thus, very qualified to created a complex branding program for you. But that's besides the point. I started imagining what creative facts our staff would come up with to prove that they were funky, mentally-stimulated Jewish magazine workers who can effectively crank out stellar articles about the Shofar's ancient ritualistic roots...blindfolded. It will probably look something like this:

OrthoJew

"Hmmm... Something people might not know about me? You mean, besides the fact that my husband looks like a troll? That's a tough question. Oh, I know. When I was young I ate shellfish at my goy friend's house and it really disagreed with me. Diarrhea for days. Years later, when I realized that my religion prohibits me from eating shellfish, it all started making sense. My body automatically rejects non-kosher foods. It's like body and soul are in sync or something."

Silent Designer
"My dog's name is 'Dog.' I don't see the point in systematically categorizing living things by assigning them with phonemes and chronemes. By the way, I am not Asian like the above picture seems to suggest. Of course, there's nothing wrong with being Asian. I'm just not one. I have a friend who is Asian."

The Publisher

"Are you talking to me? I can't hear you. I bought myself these here handy dandy earphones so that I could block out my wife, I mean, noise when I'm trying to work. Have I mentioned that I grew up on the streets in Israel. Throw a rock at me, bitch. I dare you."

The Publisher's Wife

"Around the office they call me Queen B. You know, like queen 'B'itch. That's because I don't take anybody's shit. People might think that I'm stupid or that I don't know what I'm doing but it's all strategic. You see, if people think you're dumb, they don't expect anything from you. And that, my dear, is when you strike."

The Secretary Who Reeks of Cigarettes

"Hell, they've been trying to fire for me ever since I started, but I've got so much blackmail on this family, I could destroy their entire legacy. Now, be a dear and pass me a ciggy, honey."

The Israeli Girl

"I was born and raised in Tel Aviv. I have two kids and a husband. We live in Brooklyn. What else do you want to know? I don't get it."

On second thought, this strategy will not win us any fans.

2007-01-04T10:44:00.000-08:00

Meet Rabbi Freud

I am pleased to announce that after two weeks of pure mediocrity and maybe even deafening silence in these parts, someone has stepped up to the plate and said something noteworthy. It was the Publisher’s Wife, bless her black, little heart.

A few facts about her:

-For a rounder woman (not fat, mind you—just well-fed), she has a very high-pitched, screeching voice. Upon seeing her, one would expect a throatier, fuller voice.

-After meeting someone (anyone), she bitches about them (we have this in common, evidently) and it’s downright hilarious. It’s especially amusing when she is guilty of doing the things she’s bitching about.

-Her sister lives in Israel, somewhere up North. The sister is currently visiting and is very odd looking. She has a flat face, wears glasses and even if her head is upright, she is still, somehow, looking at the ground. Her hair is scraggly, but her looks have nothing to do with this.

-One of her daughters had a “Christmas attack” this season. She didn’t understand why everything was decked out Christmas style. The Publisher’s Wife explained that they live in a Christian country and that the majority of people who live here celebrate this holiday. When her father, my boss, attended her dance practice, he brought in little goody bags with both chocolate Santas and gelt (chocolate coins, evidently). This was the straw that broke the little dancing camels back. “Even my Jewish father is celebrating Christmas!”

Given this trivia, it was great to hear the following come out of the Publisher’s Wife's mouth:

-After getting off the phone with someone: “Her voice is so annoying! How can anyone stand to be around her all day?” Hello, Mr. Kettle. Greetings, Mr. Black.

-“I just went to a PTA meeting and this lady kept on giving specific examples about her kids. I don’t care if Katy goes to bed at 9:00 every night. I don’t care if Rachel is enrolled in 50 sports activities.” Ironically, all the Publisher’s Wife talks about is her kids. Non-stop.

-“My sister and I are really different. I love her because she’s my sister but she’s from here and ever since she moved to Israel she speaks with an accent as if she’s a native. Oh! And when she speaks in English she puts the subject at the end of the sentence how they do it over there.”

-“I made an appointment for my daughter to go talk to a rabbi tomorrow about the Christmas stuff. He’s new and I don’t like him much but I’m sure he’ll explain it better than I can. He’s like a therapist.”

With a mother like this, I can totally understand why sending her to someone who is “like a therapist” would be a step in the right direction.

2007-01-03T07:49:00.000-08:00

Another theory is that he's actually dating one of the Victoria's Secret mannequins

Manwhore Miercoles...

...Because it's the only way I could preserve the alliteration demanded by the Manwhore.

I'm late on the Christmas edition of Manwhore Monday only because I didn't know one existed. In fact, I was considering getting rid of his column all together until a Christmas miracle occurred. The Manwhore and the Israeli Girl have rekindled the old flame. I take full credit for this.

This is how it happened.

The Manwhore was in Victoria's Secret buying gifts for one of his four current girlfriends. The Israeli girl miraculously walked by the store and saw him. She texted him, "I hope she's worth it." The Manwhore--never one to lack a good excuse--wrote back to her immediately, saying that he was buying a gift for his sister. [In case you're wondering, his sister is the spitting image of him, chipmunk cheeks and all]. Now, while the Manwhore doesn't technically need to lie to her since they aren't together, the Manwhore interpreted her jealousy as a "Welcome Home" banner, which it basically was. He took her to dinner that night.

I asked him if he made her pay because, as I mentioned, the bastard doesn't like to part with his money.

He shrugged and said, "Of course," as if it was his normal protocol. Trust me. It's not.

I've always been curious as to what his "girlfriends" think their place is in his life. Do they know he's just with them temporarily or do they think he's is a long-term potential mate? There's no way it's the latter, right? Wrong.

I know this because, for Christmas, the Greek girl gave him a 80 GB iPod ($350) and the Puerto Rican gave him a Bose iPod SoundDock ($299). It's almost as if they know about each other and compared notes, although it's unfortunately (for you and I) not so. I don't know what the other two girlfriends got him. In fact, I don't even know that I've met the other two. I have an idea about one of them. He sent an email to my phone with a sideshot of some blonde girl in a spandex outfit. The text read: "This is my new client!" Perhaps their relationship was not developed enough to constitute presents at Christmas. As far as I know, the Manwhore did nothing for any of them aside for taking the Israeli girl to dinner. Hopefully we'll be seeing more of her.

In other Manwhore-related news, I got a call from him last night. "I just heard on the radio that there are UFOs flying over Chicago!" He sounded like a crazed man, but even so, I checked it out on the Internet. As it turns out, there actually were reports of unidentified flying objects over O'Hare, but nothing was confirmed. They never confirm anything. The Manwhore scoffed at me, "People in Mexico City always see UFOs. It's not that big of a deal." Since I know for a fact that the Manwhore isn't Mexican, nor has he ever been to Mexico, I'm assuming his fourth girlfriend is Mexican.

2007-01-01T18:30:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year...

I'll be back Wednesday with the very belated Christmas edition of Manwhore Monday. Evidently he cleaned up even more than I did on Christmas.

Here's my Rosh Hashanah versus New Year's Eve Post from days of yore.

2006-12-28T14:32:00.000-08:00

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...

2006-12-27T00:21:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-12-26T15:25:00.000-08:00

"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.

2006-12-22T10:00:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-12-20T14:16:00.000-08:00

"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."

2006-12-19T10:41:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-12-18T11:14:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-12-16T15:31:00.000-08:00

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

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

2006-12-15T10:37:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-12-14T18:01:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-12-13T14:13:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-12-12T12:07:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-12-11T11:51:00.001-08:00

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.

2006-12-08T12:30:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-12-08T07:37:00.000-08:00

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...

2006-12-07T10:49:00.000-08:00

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?

2006-12-05T19:57:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-12-04T20:45:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-12-04T15:17:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-11-27T09:53:00.000-08:00

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)

2006-11-23T10:30:00.000-08:00

I'll be back soon.

2006-11-22T12:26:00.000-08:00

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...

2006-11-22T10:32:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-11-21T14:26:00.000-08:00

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).

2006-11-20T14:12:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-11-18T10:50:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-11-16T09:51:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-11-14T17:31:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-11-14T06:39:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-11-13T13:49:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-11-13T07:04:00.001-08:00

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.

2006-11-10T17:11:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-11-10T11:19:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-11-09T22:15:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-11-09T10:58:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-11-08T06:29:00.001-08:00

"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.

2006-11-07T11:55:00.000-08:00

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...

2006-11-07T10:34:00.000-08:00

Fun with search terms.

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

That's the best since "Russian Foreskin."

Update: "Shiksas for Practice"

2006-11-07T10:00:00.000-08:00

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?

2006-11-06T20:59:00.000-08:00

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.