Being Jewish

As a general principle, Jewish holidays are divided between days on which you must starve and days on which you must overeat.
Many Jews observe no fewer than 16 fasts throughout the Jewish year, based on the time-honored principle that even if you are sure that you are ritually purified, you definitely aren’t. Though there are many feasts and fasts, there are no holidays requiring light snacking.

Note: Unlike Christians, who simply attend church on special days (e.g. Ash Wednesday),on Jewish holidays most Jews take the whole day off. This is because Jews, for historical and personal reasons, are more stressed out.

The Diet Guide to the Jewish Holidays:

Rosh Hashanah ——- Feast
Tzom Gedalia ———– Fast
Yom Kippur ————– More fasting
Sukkot ——————– Feast for a week +
Hashanah Rabbah —- More feasting
Simchat Torah ——— Keep right on feasting
Month of Heshvan —– No feasts or fasts for a whole month. Get a grip onyourself.
Hanukkah —————- Eat potato pancakes
Tenth of Tevet ——— Do not eat potato pancakes
Tu B’Shevat ———— Feast
Fast of Esther ——— Fast
Purim ——————— Eat pastry
Passover —————- Do not eat pastry for a week
Shavuot —————— Dairy feast (cheesecake, blintzes, etc.)
17th of Tammuz ——– Fast (definitely no cheesecake or blintzes)
Tish B’Av —————– Serious fast (don’t even think about cheesecake or blintzes)
Month of Elul ———— End of cycle. Enroll in Center for Eating Disorders before High Holidays arrive again.

There are many forms of Judaism:

Cardiac Judaism ———- in my heart I am a Jew.
Gastronomic Judaism — we eat Jewish foods.
Pocketbook Judaism —– I give to Jewish causes.
Drop-off Judaism ——— drop the kids off at Sunday School; go out to breakfast.
Twice a Year Judaism — attend service Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

You know you grew up Jewish when:
You did not respond to the teacher calling roll on the first day of school because you thought your name was “Princess”.
You’ve had at least one female relative who drew eyebrows on her face that were always asymmetrical.
You spent your entire childhood thinking that everyone calls roast beef “brisket.”
Your family dog responds to complaints uttered in Yiddish.
Every Sunday afternoon of your childhood was spent visiting your grandparents.
You’ve experienced the phenomena of 50 people fitting into a 10-foot-wide dining room hitting each other with plastic plates & forks trying to get to a deli tray.
You thought pasta was the stuff used exclusively for kugel and kasha with bowties.
You watched Lawrence Welk and Ed Sullivan every Sunday night.
You were as tall as your grandmother by age seven.
You never knew anyone whose last name didn’t end in one of 6 standard suffixes (-man,-witz, -berg, -stein, -blatt or -baum).
You grew up and were surprised to find out that wine doesn’t always taste like year-old cranberry sauce.
You can look at gefilte fish without turning green.
You grew up thinking there was a fish called lox.
You can understand some Yiddish but you can’t speak it.
You know how to pronounce numerous Yiddish words and use them correctly in context, yet you don’t exactly know what they mean.
Is that Kenahurra or is that kaninehurra?.
You have at least one ancestor who is related to your spouse’s ancestor.
You grew up thinking it was normal for someone to shout “Are you okay? Are you okay?” through the bathroom door if you were in there for longer than 3 minutes.
You have at least six male relatives named Michael or David.
Your grandparent’s furniture smelled like mothballs, was covered in plastic and was as comfortable as sitting on sandpaper.
Baruch Hashem and God willing, may you have a day full of mazel and shalom!

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Taking A Woman To Bed

You tell her a story and take her to bed
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At 28
You don’t need to tell her a story
To take her to bed
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At 38
She tells you a story and takes you to bed
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At 48
She tells you a story to avoid going to bed
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At 58
You stay in bed to avoid her story
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At 68
If you take her to bed, that’ll be a story
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At 78
What story? What bed?
Who the hell are you?
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I Resign

I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult.
I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an 8-year-old again.
I want to go to McDonald’s and think that it’s a four star restaurant.
I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make ripples with rocks.
I want to think M&Ms are better than money because you can eat them.
I want to lie under a big oak tree and run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summer day.
I want to return to a time when life was simple.
When all you knew were colors, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes, but that didn’t bother you, because you didn’t know what you didn’t know and you didn’t care.

All you knew was to be happy because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset.
I want to think the world is fair. That everyone is honest and good.
I want to believe that anything is possible.
I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life and be overly excited by the little things again.
I want to live simple again.
I don’t want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness, and loss of loved ones.

I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, the imagination, mankind, and making angels in the snow.

So…here’s my checkbook and my car keys, my credit cards and all my responsibility.
I am officially resigning from adulthood. And if you want to discuss this further, you’ll have to catch me first, ’cause, “Tag! You’re it.”

FOR ALL THE MEN IN OUR LIVES WHO ASK WHAT TOOK US SO LONG?

When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it’s your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won’t latch. It doesn’t matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern “seat covers” (invented by someone’s Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn’t – so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume ” The Stance.”

In this position your aging, toneless (God I should have gone to the gym!!!) thigh muscles begin to shake. You’d love to sit down, but you certainly hadn’t taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold “The Stance”.

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother’s voice saying, “Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!” Your thighs shake more. You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday – the one that’s still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That will have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It’s still smaller than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn’t work. The door hits your purse,which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest,and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. “Occupied!” you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT.

It is wet of course.

You bolt up, knowing all too well that it’s too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper – not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you’re certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, “You just don’t KNOW what kind of diseases you could get”.

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes.
The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At this point, you give up.. You’re soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat.

You’re e-x-h-a-u-s-t-e-d.

You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. You can’t figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, …..so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting.

You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman’s hand and tell her warmly, “Here, you just might need this”.

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men’s restroom. Annoyed, he asks, “What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?” ………..

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (rest??? you’ve GOT to be kidding!!).It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It’s so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse, and hand you Kleenex under the door!

A Friend Is Like A Good Bra…
Hard to Find…
Supportive…..
Comfortable …
Always Lifts You Up…
Never Lets You Down, or Leaves You Hanging,
And Is Always Close To Your Heart!!!

WHO AM I???

My life has no purpose, no direction, no aim, no meaning, and yet I'm happy. I can't figure it out. What am I doing right?

I am an angel and I am a devil
Sometimes I am in between
I am bad as it can get and good as it can be.
Sometimes I am a million colors but oftentimes
I am just black and white.

I am all extremes
Try figuring me out, you never can
There are so many things I am.

I am special and beautiful
I am wonderful and powerful
I am unstoppable

Sometimes I am miserable and pitiful
But that is so typical of all the things I am
I am someone filled with self-belief
and sometimes haunted by self-doubt

I’ve got all the answers and yet I’ve got nothing figured out.
I like to be by myself but hate to be alone.
Sometimes I am up; sometimes I am down
But that is all part of the thrill, part of the plan, and
Part of all of the things I AM

I am a million contradictions
Sometimes I make no sense.
Sometimes I am perfect
Sometimes I am a mess

SOMETIMES I AM NOT SURE WHO I REALLY AM!!!!!!

Meaning of Friendship

Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you’ve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more. You share hopes for the future, dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many disappointments life has thrown at you. When something wonderful happens, you can’t wait to tell them about it, knowing they will share in your excitement. They are not embarrassed to cry with you when you are hurting or laugh with you when you make a fool of yourself. Never do they hurt your feelings or make you feel like you are not good enough, but rather they build you up and show you the things about yourself that make you special and even beautiful. There is never any pressure, jealousy or competition but only a quiet calmness when they are around. You can be yourself and not worry about what they will think of you because they love you for who you are. The things that seem insignificant to most people such as a note, song or walk become invaluable treasures kept safe in your heart to cherish forever. Memories of your childhood come back and are so clear and vivid it’s like being young again. Colours seem brighter and more brilliant. Laughter seems part of daily life where before it was infrequent or didn’t exist at all. A phone call or two during the day helps to get you through a long day’s work and always brings a smile to your face. In their presence, there’s no need for continuous conversation, but you find you’re quite content in just having them nearby. Things that never interested you before become fascinating because you know they are important to this person who is so special to you. You think of this person on every occasion and in everything you do. Simple things bring them to mind like a pale blue sky, gentle wind or even a storm cloud on the horizon. You open your heart knowing that there’s a chance it may be broken one day and in opening your heart, you experience a love and joy that you never dreamed possible. You find that being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure that’s so real it scares you. You find strength in knowing you have a true friend and possibly a soul mate who will remain loyal to the end. Life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile. Your only hope and security is in knowing that they are a part of your life.

The Road Less Traveled

How often we must bear the challenges of life;
The endless roller coaster between happiness and sorrow;
The constant ups and downs of daily strife.
And always the question remains …. why?

Life is not an easy road for most;
It twists and turns with many forks in the road,
Although always, and inevitably, we are given a choice …

Do we turn to the right … or the left?
Do we take the high road … or the low road?
Do we take the easy path … or the difficult one?
Decisions are not easy for those struggling for direction …
And sometimes the many choices and signs become overwhelming.

While standing at a crossroads in life,
The urge is to take the most comfortable path;
The road with least resistance …

The shortest or most traveled route.
And yet, if we’ve been down that comfortable road before;
Have gleaned its lessons in life, and learned from our experiences;
Do we yet again follow the known?
Or does our destiny lie in another direction?

The fear of the road less traveled is tangible and all too real;
It manifests itself in many ways,
And tends to cloud the issues that might otherwise be clear.
It is in these times of confusion,
That we must seek peace and solitude;

Time to contemplate on our life,
Our experiences and our choices past;
Time to look back, and reflect on what we have learned
Without fear or confusion.

For only each of us knows our own personal thoughts;
Our unique past and personal history;
The experiences that brought us to the crossroads we now face.
We can always learn a small degree from others experiences,
And yet … no one person can walk in our shoes,

Others know not, the trials and tribulations faced in private …
For each is individual … unique … and personal.
And that is why … while standing at a crossroads,
Only “we” can formulate the decision for ourselves;

The true direction that lies within;
The choices we must deliberate on with clarity and wisdom.
For it is only through personal reflection,
That we can now choose our destiny;

… Our next adventure;
… And the future we will embrace.

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