Things That Make a JAP's Heart Weep

I swear we're not all Shoshana.

My JAP heart wept sarcastic tears the other day. I didn't know that was possible.

But when my girlfriend was talking about one of her friend's weddings "being quite the affair," I got excited thinking of the days of yore. The days when I attended things that were "quite the affair" every weekend.

Yes, I'm talking about when I was 13. My social calendar was jam-packed full of events. Brunches here, party planner meetings there, and a black-tie event EVERY Saturday night!

Come to think of it, my JAP heart may weep real tears in a minute because I am coming to the horrific realization that my life was much more exciting and fancy when I was 13.

Anyway, I was told the wedding was costing around $40k.

...I didn't even blink. 

My bat mitzvah cost way more than that.

I thought up until the very last time I went to get myself self-serve soft-serve that the 16 Handles types were superior to Pinkberry because I was in control.  G-D WAS I WRONG! This is nothing like choosing my Marc Jacobs or Prada in the morning. NOTHING!

I began to realize I don't do well with too many choices.  Not only did I have to choose from 20 different flavors of froyo, I had three different stations of toppings to go to. Wet toppings, dry candy, fruit, oh my!  I needed a Xanax before even taking the 8 or 16 or 32 ounce cup!

My cup ended up looking like the remains of a slasher flick gone all wrong. (Coffee and red velvet yogurt with kit kat and bananas and a cherry on top? Ew. But I couldn't stop myself!)

Also: these places don't have carob chips.

Those damned half-Jews.  It's completeley unfair because they get the best of both worlds without having to own a Chi!  They're chosen AND good-looking without having to try.

I watched them all walk in with their perfectly straight blondish hair and their smiles that didn't need braces this morning at temple.  I watched them with DAGGER EYES.

All amateur acting and singing aside, let's get something straight: the goyim know nothing about Broadway! Oy!

Other things to note:

1. Church Annie didn't have curly (the devil's?) hair. Church Annie had pigtails!

2. When Daddy Warbucks gets Annie a locket from Tiffany's... Church props supply a black velvet jewelry box. Where was the sacred blue?! Sacre bleu!

Hurricane Irene is making my JAP heart weep.

First of all, let me tell you about hurricanes.  Unless they're a category 4 or 5, there is no real threat.

I know this. I lived in South Florida nearly my whole life.

But NYC is battening down the hatches!  Canceling all flights!  Shutting down the MTA!  My least favorite hurricane phrase of all: HUNKERING DOWN.  (Ew, doesn't it sound like some redneck with straw hanging out of his mouth and overalls on saying that?)

Well let me tell you something, NYC.  I'd like to quote my favorite movie Mean Girls and say, "I DIDN'T LEAVE THE SOUTHEAST FOR THIS!"

Nothing's going to happen!  It'll rain for two days!  I'm not filling my West Village bathtub up with water.  The maid hasn't been to my apartment this month yet!  That would be disgusting. I'd be better off drinking the "hurricane."

And the worst part?  I'm supposed to be going to Israel on my birthright trip on Sunday. How am I supposed to do that if everything is shut down?  TELL ME, BLOOMBERG, TELL ME!

The fact that I can't sell my eggs for $8,000 a pop makes my JAP heart weep.

Flash back to the summer after my freshman year of college. I was 19.  Bored.  Needed to get a job so I could buy things*.

I didn't want to work in retail or at a movie theater.  I didn't want an internship.  They weren't important yet because The Intern Queen (my BFF Lauren Berger) wasn't invented yet.

I looked on Craig's List for whatever I could find.  And what I found was: people wanted to pay BIG BUCKS for Jewish eggs!  I could buy an INFINITE amount of Tiffany's necklaces with that.

People were offering anywhere between $8,000 and $20,000 for the eggs of a smart, good-looking, well-behaved JAP... like myself!  I already had the small nose going for me, my hair was the nice kind of curly (or at least is now, that I stopped dying it blonde), a decent GPA and test scores, and I could be nice.  I immediately printed out the forms and began filling them out when...

"What are you doing?"  My dad peered over my shoulder and saw me writing my health insurance number on the form.

"Summer job." I replied while still writing, thinking I was the most clever person in the world.

He looked at the form and put it in the shredder.  Said something about the surgery being too invasive and how my insurance would drop me.  

And that was that.