(cross-posted from Kosher Eucharist)

Sometimes I wonder if the increasingly debilitating pain of having to venture out in public during the daytime might be somewhat alleviated if I could amuse myself with telepathy. What’s going on under the gel-encrusted quills of an ars? Do the Yazam cops realize that the more heat they pack, the more it looks like they’re compensating for spending all day riding on a Kawasaki Ninja built for two? Is there anything at all going on in the Breslovers’ heads beyond the persistent zzt-zzt of two remaining synapses trying desperately, and failing utterly, to connect? And, most intriguing of all, do all those seminary girls know their goddamned skirts are dragging on the ground?

Imagine if you could spend one fine Jerusalem afternoon in the area of the Ben Yehuda midrachov finding out:

The more inexplicable ruffles my skirt has, the more Hashem loves me.

Speaking of my skirt, I know it’s dragging on the ground, but my willingness to ruin my clothing just shows the boys that my daddy has money.

Ohmig-d, is that RIVKAH EISENBERG?! I haven’t seen her in at least two days! I must express my pleasure upon unexpectedly seeing her in public by shrieking her name at the top of my considerable lungs!

Are her elbows uncovered? Slut.

I mean, sure, I’ve been fooling around with Moshe from Neveh…well, and Josh from Neveh…well, okay, the entire 12:30 Gemara shiur from Neveh…but they kept their kippas on during, and I wore the skirt with extra ruffles, so it doesn’t count. I’m still a virgin.

Anyway, it doesn’t matter, what happens in Yerushalayim stays in Yerushalayim.

Ha! Like Las Vegas! I am sooo funny. Wait until I tell Aliza that one.

I wonder why I haven’t got my period yet…

Ohmig-d, is he looking at me? Ohmig-d, he’s cuuuuuuute! And look how long his tzitzis are! His middos must be even more ridiculously outsized!

G-d, my feet are sweating in these Uggs.

That reminds me, I need to go pick up my engraved heart pendant from Hadaya. The fact that I spent several hundred dollars to get my name crudely etched in a misshapen silver heart shows the boys that I have abundant self-esteem, and also that my daddy has money.

Oh, we’re at Fro-Yo. Bleh. I don’t feel like ice cream. Ever since I started throwing up in the mornings last week, I haven’t really been too hungry. I should probably go to the doctor. But for now, maybe cutting back on the ice cream and losing a little weight will be good for me. I swear, my belly is starting to pop out of my ruffles. Fat fat fat.

But at least I’m not like Adina. That denim skirt doesn’t do much to hide her tush. That’s not even ghetto booty. That’s Warsaw booty.


I can’t wait until Zolly’s tonight. I am going to drink, like, eight drinks, and I am going to yell out “WHOOOOOOO!” after every one. I’ll show all the boys my middos. And my boobs.

Ha! Just kidding! I am sooooooo funny.

Speaking of my boobs, have they gotten bigger? Sweet!

I hope I don’t pass out at Zolly’s like last time, though…

I don’t even know whose apartment that was. Good thing I got back in time for morning shiur.

Ohmig-d, cute Israeli soldiers! I should go up to them and say “I love the army!” in Hebrew. The security guard at the sem taught me how. How did it go? Ani mufkeret?

Oh, cell phone’s ringing! Ugh. I need to get a new phone. If I keep this crappy Nokia, how will the boys know my daddy has money?

Hours upon hours of thrills.

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  • Having experienced both Mardis Gras, I can assure you that the Orthodox variant is much more terrifying.

  • Michael, what’s the army been up to?
    Whats going on now that things settled down after the Lebanon war?

  • i’m kinda disappointed. usually your stuff is hilarious. this is not that original. you simply took a good song and dumbed it down. (in case it’s not obvious what i’m referring to, it goes like this: “tell me if i’m wrong but it happens a lot/ ben yehuda on erev Shabbat/ i’m on my way to meah shearim/ when suddenly i hear a high pitch scream…….”

  • That jewlery was horrible, the artist – kinda hot in a psychotic bad boy kinda way.

    I better make sure my daughter goes straight to college and goes to Israel on the “junior year abroad” plan instead of seminary. I can deal with bad fashion sense in my offspring, but bad taste in jewelry – NO. They get that from their Father’s side and I can not allow it.

    Thanks for the Hebrew lesson..”Ani Mufkeret!” I love the Army! 😉

  • julie – I’ll be the first to admit, this is not my best material…but I have no idea what you’re referring to.

    chutzpah – I was shocked when I first saw Hadaya jewelry. Honestly, if your daddy has money, it should be put towards something that reflects it. Otherwise, what’s the point?

  • Exactly.

    Personally, I’d rather have a tat from the very hot (in a psychotic bad boy kinda way) and very Jewlicious, Ami James.

    Even, Cartier and Tiffany’s aren’t getting me as excited as they used to…wonder if that’s a symptom of menopause?

  • Michael, good to see you’re prose is as sick and demented as ever, keep up the goood brandy drinking there dude. my advice is to lay off too much of the Givon brandy. A little is ok, I mean a shot that’s all you should drink.

  • That was four years of high school for me, sir. I have no sympathy for your complaints.

  • michael:

    it might be beneath your hipster sensibility to listen to blue fringe (and most guys who like them refuse to admit they do b/c well, blue fringe is for teenage girls and wussies) but they wrote that one first. their song “Flippin Out,” has become the anthem for every “my-year-in-israel” kid, and sums up a lot of what you wrote about (although more from a guy’s perspective).

    balaam’s donkey:

    good point. i think that goes for a lot of us… so sad…

  • Their heterosexuality is certainly clumsy. But at least they are wiggling their arms and legs. They are talking and touching. They may be graceless, doctrinally inconsistent, and materialist. Their tushies are not toned, because of their pitiful ashkenazi excuse for a cuisine. Their minds may seem, or even actually be, narrow. But – manhood is about getting it going, not about whining. It’s not your fault! These impotencies go back years, and you are just the product of your parents evolutionary dead-ends. It is heart-rending to see young people struggling in the tires and meshes of their parents’ mistakes. Cut to the chase. Find a young woman with enough fire and enough steady steel to face down your mother. One who can say, with a smile, it’s a new day now. YOUR WIDDLE BOY IS MINE NOW and no longer a boy. Cry if you must, for a suitable mourning period. That’s ok. But WE are going to have a wedding and a baby and IT IS A NEW DAY. So enjoooooy your Sixties tapes and records and singing of kumbaya and all that stuff. WE have a world to create. Kiss kiss.

    All you need is some grit, and a sign to hang around your neck saying “Under New Management. My Missus. You got a problem? Speak to her. I am studying. Or sleeping. She handles the front of the shop. If it’s my parents, take a message”.

  • whaddya mean wtf? What is not clear? Stop spitting and bitching, and get one of your own. I speak Chinese?

  • I’d had some original and clever snark to post in response to Michael’s lame yet touching ode to seminary girls and their ruffles. But the last few comments really spiked the buzz. My mellow harshed, I can only channel images of signs hung around necks and… untoned tushies? I’m sorry, Michael. Your cute little daydream deserved oh, so much more.

  • That is the most profound writing we have had from JM to date. Welcome back from the Slavery that was Pesach, my Sista.

    What she was trying to say, if I may translate, was:” these girls may not be hot in a shiksa sorta way, but they are our future. Their values may be a little off, but they get them from their parents. Jewish men may find them distateful, but don’t mock them, for they are your brides. Enjoy your time putzing around Israel and pretending to be a hippy, but then grow up and raise a family. Let your flat-assed Seminary girl be a helpmate unto you.”

    Sparks notes: JM wants Michael and those like him to get off their flat ashkenazi asses and get married and have children rather than mocking the future shtetl babymakers.

    At least I took my meds this morning!

  • Well, I asked about the meds because saying “Stop spitting and bitching, and get one of your own” is uncharacteristic of our JM. Although, I suspect we may finally have seen a hint of some real life temper.

  • Julie,

    I admit to liking Blue Fringe. I am a bit biased though since I’ve been close with Dov’s family for years. 🙂

  • Thank you, Chutzpa! Well translated!

    The Warsaw booty thing still hurts, twenty-four hours later. And I still remember a past swipe at Vilna, the Jerusalem of the North.

  • “Insulting Seminary girls asses is hurtful. I still remember the Holocaust, so don’t put down our girls because that’s what our enemies do.”

  • Chutzpah understood that?

    I’m impressed. It was even more kabbalistic than usual.

  • I’m frightening myself with this…it’s like I know how to speak in tongues now!

  • The author of this piece is just a jerk, plain and simple. If he is bothered by these negative subcultures, which I agree are damaging, he should lead by example rather than offering only destructive criticism.