Wednesday, November 12, 2008
sheva brachos are fun. in some ways, they're better than weddings. you don't have to dance and pretend you're loving it, you don't get stepped on, you don't have to say hi to relatives that you really don't want to talk to. and when you belong to a family like mine, it's a rocking party. a family that holds elections for favorite aunt; and two of the candidates are male. a family who has members who feel like life's not worth living if their not insulted by someone. a family where sheva brachos becomes competition between to uncles and a cousin, to see who can drag out their bracha longer, a family where no one eats the food, but everyone drinks soda and eats the chocolate. where the centerpieces are decorated pieces of bubble gum, and the napkins have stick figures of a bride and groom. it was a fun part. it was loud, it was crazy, it was fun.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
you know those kids who look really cute? and you know those kids who are really bratty? and you know the type that look really cute but act really bratty?
today i had to run to Walmart for some items. lately it's become a real pain to go to Walmart. in recent shopping trips, the guys who worked there were never of much help, but i didn't mind because i knew where everything was. with the recent renovation of the store, nobody knows where anything is. not the cashiers, not the customers, and least of all, the customer service.
so after stumbling my way around the store for twenty minutes, and only managing to get sixty percent of what i needed to get, i went to pay. the lines were tremendously long. and of course, there were tons of people on the express lane with more than ten items (do people bother reading signs???) so i took my place. and waited. and waited. and waited.
i glanced at the family on line in front of me. a couple and their two kids. the four year old looked really cute, running around in his little jeans and aero sweatshirt...until he turned around to look at me, stuck his tongue out, and proceeded to flick the remains of what had been on his finger (i think it came out of his nose) on my coat. i seriously considered sticking my tongue back out at him, but his mom was wearing three inch stilettos. (a lesson I've learned in life; don't start up with people wearing weapons. it can be painful) so i just smiled at him. he turned to his younger brother, tugged on his hair until he started to cry, and then pulled all the lighters down from the rack on the wall.
truly a delightful child.
when his dad threatened to take away the hideous stuffed fish he clutched in his grubby paw, he moved away, and i breathed a sigh of relief. i watched him as he dashed down the aisle, whooping all the way, played with the credit card reader, and then pushed all the buttons on the electronic toys which were on display. when he looked back at his parents, his mom just beamed at him.
little ray of sunshine.
you can imagine i was more than thrilled when they paid and left the store.
today i had to run to Walmart for some items. lately it's become a real pain to go to Walmart. in recent shopping trips, the guys who worked there were never of much help, but i didn't mind because i knew where everything was. with the recent renovation of the store, nobody knows where anything is. not the cashiers, not the customers, and least of all, the customer service.
so after stumbling my way around the store for twenty minutes, and only managing to get sixty percent of what i needed to get, i went to pay. the lines were tremendously long. and of course, there were tons of people on the express lane with more than ten items (do people bother reading signs???) so i took my place. and waited. and waited. and waited.
i glanced at the family on line in front of me. a couple and their two kids. the four year old looked really cute, running around in his little jeans and aero sweatshirt...until he turned around to look at me, stuck his tongue out, and proceeded to flick the remains of what had been on his finger (i think it came out of his nose) on my coat. i seriously considered sticking my tongue back out at him, but his mom was wearing three inch stilettos. (a lesson I've learned in life; don't start up with people wearing weapons. it can be painful) so i just smiled at him. he turned to his younger brother, tugged on his hair until he started to cry, and then pulled all the lighters down from the rack on the wall.
truly a delightful child.
when his dad threatened to take away the hideous stuffed fish he clutched in his grubby paw, he moved away, and i breathed a sigh of relief. i watched him as he dashed down the aisle, whooping all the way, played with the credit card reader, and then pushed all the buttons on the electronic toys which were on display. when he looked back at his parents, his mom just beamed at him.
little ray of sunshine.
you can imagine i was more than thrilled when they paid and left the store.
it should have been a peaceful Friday night meal-as peaceful as it could be with all my relatives. with the exception of a bunch of cousins who were away and brother 1 who was in yeshiva for shabbos, we were all sitting around the table, enjoying the company, getting riled up about nothing, when Uncle E's hatzolah radio beeped. we all looked at it as a voice squawked
"can i get a unit to Yeshivas OR?"
my mother blanched.
"hey, that's brother 1's yeshiva!" said sister 2.
Captain Obvious, that one.
"well there's a family that lives on campus" said my mother "maybe it's one of their kids" the radio blared again
"i have a bachur with a head and eye injury" my uncle reached for his radio, his hand poised over it.
"do you want me to take the call?" he asked my mother.
"if it is brother 1 they have to come here and get a parent" Cousin S reminded us.
my mother shook her head."no you don't have to. anyway, what are the chances that it's him?" i could practically hear sister 1's brain churning. since there are six boys in the 12th grade, the chances of him being the one with the injury were about sixteen and a half percent. but she didn't say anything. we continued eating. about halfway through the meal, we saw lights outside our house.
"oh please don't tell me that's an ambulance" said my mother. but at second glance her fears were confirmed. we all spilled out on to the front lawn, and to our immense relief, brother 1 didn't stagger from the ambulance, dripping blood. in fact, he looked shaken, but unharmed. the EMT Explained that Hatzolah had been called because he had felt a sharp shooting pain in his eye.
"we have to take him to his eye doctor." (that would be Uncle Y who we knew was home because he was celebrating sheva brachos for his daughter) it was decided that my father Uncle E would accompany him to Uncle Y. they packed into the ambulance and we waved them off. i tried, using my vast medical knowledge of the eyeball, to explain how dangerous it is for pressure to build up in the posterior segment of the eye, but no one was interested. Cousin Z shuddered in disgust. relieved that no one had been seriously hurt, (following that age old philosophy of "no blood and breathing, he's OK" )we went back inside to finish eating.
"if he comes back home tonight, do we have to give him back his room?" Cousin M asked.
"oh gosh, do we have to be nice to him now?" i wanted to know.
right after we finished bentching, they returned, after stopping off at CVS to buy drops. the diagnose: an ulcer in the cornea.
"an ulcer? in the eye?" i asked. "but i thought ulcers happen in the stomach where hydrochloric acid-" a look from Cousin Z and Aunt D stopped me.
"sorry" i muttered.
my mother was relieved that the whole ordeal was over.
"i had a vision of a fork stuck in his eye."
Cousin M blanched and choked on his wine.
"what's the matter with you?" asked Uncle E asked. Cousin S patted her husband's arm and looked at my uncle.
"M is squeamish. very squeamish" Uncle E looked as if his birthday had come early.
"really? you don't like blood! that's awesome!"
watch out, Cousin M. anything you say at the table can and will be used against you.
thank G-d the rest of the night passed uneventfully. brother 1 is OK and all our guests made it home safely.
"can i get a unit to Yeshivas OR?"
my mother blanched.
"hey, that's brother 1's yeshiva!" said sister 2.
Captain Obvious, that one.
"well there's a family that lives on campus" said my mother "maybe it's one of their kids" the radio blared again
"i have a bachur with a head and eye injury" my uncle reached for his radio, his hand poised over it.
"do you want me to take the call?" he asked my mother.
"if it is brother 1 they have to come here and get a parent" Cousin S reminded us.
my mother shook her head."no you don't have to. anyway, what are the chances that it's him?" i could practically hear sister 1's brain churning. since there are six boys in the 12th grade, the chances of him being the one with the injury were about sixteen and a half percent. but she didn't say anything. we continued eating. about halfway through the meal, we saw lights outside our house.
"oh please don't tell me that's an ambulance" said my mother. but at second glance her fears were confirmed. we all spilled out on to the front lawn, and to our immense relief, brother 1 didn't stagger from the ambulance, dripping blood. in fact, he looked shaken, but unharmed. the EMT Explained that Hatzolah had been called because he had felt a sharp shooting pain in his eye.
"we have to take him to his eye doctor." (that would be Uncle Y who we knew was home because he was celebrating sheva brachos for his daughter) it was decided that my father Uncle E would accompany him to Uncle Y. they packed into the ambulance and we waved them off. i tried, using my vast medical knowledge of the eyeball, to explain how dangerous it is for pressure to build up in the posterior segment of the eye, but no one was interested. Cousin Z shuddered in disgust. relieved that no one had been seriously hurt, (following that age old philosophy of "no blood and breathing, he's OK" )we went back inside to finish eating.
"if he comes back home tonight, do we have to give him back his room?" Cousin M asked.
"oh gosh, do we have to be nice to him now?" i wanted to know.
right after we finished bentching, they returned, after stopping off at CVS to buy drops. the diagnose: an ulcer in the cornea.
"an ulcer? in the eye?" i asked. "but i thought ulcers happen in the stomach where hydrochloric acid-" a look from Cousin Z and Aunt D stopped me.
"sorry" i muttered.
my mother was relieved that the whole ordeal was over.
"i had a vision of a fork stuck in his eye."
Cousin M blanched and choked on his wine.
"what's the matter with you?" asked Uncle E asked. Cousin S patted her husband's arm and looked at my uncle.
"M is squeamish. very squeamish" Uncle E looked as if his birthday had come early.
"really? you don't like blood! that's awesome!"
watch out, Cousin M. anything you say at the table can and will be used against you.
thank G-d the rest of the night passed uneventfully. brother 1 is OK and all our guests made it home safely.
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Wednesday, November 5, 2008
i love Starbucks. i love their poufy chairs, the weirdo people who hang out there, the funky music they play, and of course, the free coffee!
i went to claim my free coffee and the barista smiled at me and said,
"sure. that'll be zero dollars."
i asked for a receipt.
he chuckled at me, and before i could explain that i wasn't kidding, and really wanted a receipt, he turned to another customer.
then, from out of nowhere, a white-haired guy appeared behind the counter and asked me if I'd like a free coffee. i smiled politely and gestured to my coffee.
" i just got one"
he smiled back and offered me a receipt he had been holding in his hand. gingerly, i accepted the proffered scrap and looked at it.
"Take Our Online Survey And The Next Drink Is On Us!" it stated.
i looked up at him for verification...and he had vanished.
not really.
he was still standing there.
"just visit mystarbucksvisit.com and type in this customer code" he explained, pointing to the slip "then after you've answered some questions about your visit, you will be given a complimentary beverage ID. write it down on the receipt and bring it back here for a free drink."
i didn't really have time to comprehend all this because i was about to be late for class. so i took the receipt and my drink and hurried out.
sitting in my car, i came to a realization;
i had just met my fairy godfather! i was sure of it! and i hadn't even give him my wish list.
i half expected to be duped, but after i got home i filled out the survey and dutifully wrote down the number. that appeared on the screen when i was finished. I'll have to stop by Starbucks some time today...
the more i think about Starbucks, the more questions i have for them:
do you have to sport at least six facial piercings and have two different hair colors to work behind the counter?
do you ever vacuum your chairs? sometimes it freaks me out to think of what i might be sitting on.
what's withe grande stuff? why not extra-large like everyone else? do the baristas even know what that word means? maybe next time i go in I'll say "un pequeño café, por favor"and see if anyone knows what that is.
can i do a coffee-themed party in Starbucks? maybe i could rent out the place for a few hours, have open drinks and free wireless.
after buying a certain amount in Starbucks, can i get privileged customer status, and like, have a reserved poufy chair for whenever i come so i don't have to sit on one of the uncomfortable, wooden, straight-backed chairs? this isn't the 1700's anymore. nobody should care how lousy my posture is.
i went to claim my free coffee and the barista smiled at me and said,
"sure. that'll be zero dollars."
i asked for a receipt.
he chuckled at me, and before i could explain that i wasn't kidding, and really wanted a receipt, he turned to another customer.
then, from out of nowhere, a white-haired guy appeared behind the counter and asked me if I'd like a free coffee. i smiled politely and gestured to my coffee.
" i just got one"
he smiled back and offered me a receipt he had been holding in his hand. gingerly, i accepted the proffered scrap and looked at it.
"Take Our Online Survey And The Next Drink Is On Us!" it stated.
i looked up at him for verification...and he had vanished.
not really.
he was still standing there.
"just visit mystarbucksvisit.com and type in this customer code" he explained, pointing to the slip "then after you've answered some questions about your visit, you will be given a complimentary beverage ID. write it down on the receipt and bring it back here for a free drink."
i didn't really have time to comprehend all this because i was about to be late for class. so i took the receipt and my drink and hurried out.
sitting in my car, i came to a realization;
i had just met my fairy godfather! i was sure of it! and i hadn't even give him my wish list.
i half expected to be duped, but after i got home i filled out the survey and dutifully wrote down the number. that appeared on the screen when i was finished. I'll have to stop by Starbucks some time today...
the more i think about Starbucks, the more questions i have for them:
do you have to sport at least six facial piercings and have two different hair colors to work behind the counter?
do you ever vacuum your chairs? sometimes it freaks me out to think of what i might be sitting on.
what's withe grande stuff? why not extra-large like everyone else? do the baristas even know what that word means? maybe next time i go in I'll say "un pequeño café, por favor"and see if anyone knows what that is.
can i do a coffee-themed party in Starbucks? maybe i could rent out the place for a few hours, have open drinks and free wireless.
after buying a certain amount in Starbucks, can i get privileged customer status, and like, have a reserved poufy chair for whenever i come so i don't have to sit on one of the uncomfortable, wooden, straight-backed chairs? this isn't the 1700's anymore. nobody should care how lousy my posture is.
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Tuesday, November 4, 2008
remember the good old days? i sure do. when my biggest worries were whether or not I'd be able to get away with wearing those long earrings to school...when I'd hope I'd be able to pass the test with minimal studying...when my biggest decision was to decide what to buy my friends for their birthdays...when my biggest upcoming project was throwing together a Chanukah party...when staying up late was fun...before coffee became a necessity, and it made me feel cool and grown-up...when i loved "getting made up"...when i had four pairs of shoes; shabbos, weekday, slippers, and sneakers...when relationships were simpler...when i thought the adults in my life knew everything...when everyone i knew was a good person...when i thought the president was a man who really cared about every citizen...when my hardest task was eating my vegetables...when my biggest responsibility was remembering to
brush my teeth every night...those were the days...
brush my teeth every night...those were the days...
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did you know that Starbucks is giving out free coffee to all voters? that's right. all you have to do is go in there and tell them you voted and you'll get a free 12 oz. (i think) coffee. i saw this on facebook and i was a little skeptical so i checked out their website and it's totally legit. so exercise your freedom and choose Starbucks. (although according to recent polls, more hardworking Americans prefer dunkin' donuts coffee)happy voting!
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Monday, November 3, 2008
anybody know how to get primer out of hair?
today i developed a streak of white hair. very cruella devil.
since I've got some free time this semester, i decided I'm going to repaint my room. it's not such a hard job. (but it would be easier if sister 1 would take her bed out of the room so i don't have to keep hopping around it) today i just did the base coat-and managed to get paint all over me in the process. it took me twenty minutes to get the stubborn substance off my hands-and I've still got vestiges of it on the tips of my fingers. my feet and legs are streaked with white. i have to manage to get the stuff off before my cousin's wedding on Thursday night. then again, even if i do manage to scrape my skin raw and get the paint off, I'll have to do it again when i paint the second coat of primer and the two coats of paint.
that is, if sister1 and i can decide on a color before Wednesday morning.
today i developed a streak of white hair. very cruella devil.
since I've got some free time this semester, i decided I'm going to repaint my room. it's not such a hard job. (but it would be easier if sister 1 would take her bed out of the room so i don't have to keep hopping around it) today i just did the base coat-and managed to get paint all over me in the process. it took me twenty minutes to get the stubborn substance off my hands-and I've still got vestiges of it on the tips of my fingers. my feet and legs are streaked with white. i have to manage to get the stuff off before my cousin's wedding on Thursday night. then again, even if i do manage to scrape my skin raw and get the paint off, I'll have to do it again when i paint the second coat of primer and the two coats of paint.
that is, if sister1 and i can decide on a color before Wednesday morning.
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