Where My Heebs At?

September 18, 2009 at 7:27 am | Posted in Heebs | 3 Comments
Tonight Jews around the world will begin celebrating Rosh Hashanah – our new year. Now, I know some of my goy (aka swine-lovin’) friends are sometimes a little unsure of how to wish us well on our confusing holidays (what with the Hebrew and Yiddish and customs and all), so here’s a handy guide for your RH comfort…

The Year: Tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 5770!

The Rituals: My ultimate Yid-goal is to be inscribed in the “Book of Life” (kind of like the Hebrew Hall of Fame – but an even bigger deal), so now’s the time to examine my life and actions and be the best person I can be.

One of my favorite parts of the Rosh Hashanah service is the sounding of the Shofar, a ram’s horn that is blown kind of like a trumpet. Awesome!

We’ve even got cleansing rituals (think: burning pictures and clothes from an ex to move on with your life) where we symbolically cast away our past sins by throwing bread crumbs or cracker crumbs into rivers or streams or oceans (this is called Tashlich), and we do a lot of praying and wishing other people well.

The Greetings: Want to impress your heeb pals? Say: Shanah Tovah or L’Shanah Tovah to wish them a happy new year!

The Eatings: This is the holiday of lots of big meals with family and friends… jealous? RH traditions include overdosing on nature’s candy so we have a sweet year. Apples & honey, round Challah (the braided bread, not the call-out) with raisins, pomegranates, etc.

The Decor: No half naked babies, old men with canes or 5770 glasses for us! But our men folk do wear yarmulkes, so it’s kind of like festive party hats. And you can think of those crumbs like confetti.

The Gifts: It is also customary for our gentile friends to bribe us with shiny, expensive gifts. After all, you gotta be on the good side of the Chosen People!

(Just kidding- but I do love presents so I couldn’t resist! Too much? Don’t worry, I’ll throw some crumbs to make up for that little gag.)

Shanah Tovah, dear reader(s)!


Photo Phriday: Your Rabbi Is Delicious!

January 13, 2012 at 9:23 am | Posted in In The Kitchen, Office Humor | 2 Comments
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Everyone knows Jews are excellent cooks.  Latkes (goys say potato pancakes) are little fried pillows of heaven, brisket (southerners smoke it, but we make it saucy!) is practically an institution, and matzo ball soup is not only yummy, but also good for what ails ya.

Being a fairly experienced yid, I thought I was familiar with almost every heeb delicacy, but apparently I was wrong.  I have never, in my thirty-something years on G-d’s green Earth, seen, tasted or heard tell of “Broccoli Rabbi.”  But apparently I’ve been missing out.  Witness:

Menu Misspelling

I prefer Carrot Rabbi!

Sounds… umm… tasty?

P.S. Apparently another Jewish delicacy is also on this odd menu – sort of.  Pastromi?  Really?
It’s pastrami, fools.

Photo Phriday: It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like (Tacky) Christmas

December 2, 2011 at 12:02 pm | Posted in Photo Phriday | 2 Comments
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As a yid, Christmas-time can be fraught with difficulties.  (Prepare your tiniest violin for me…)  December means: listening to radio stations being overtaken by Christmas music (it’s cute at first, but gets old really quickly); friends getting mounds of gifts in just one morning while my eight crazy nights barely hold a candle (punny, I know) to their loot; and being ignored by Santa even though I’m pretty sure I’ve been good all year.  Seriously – I don’t even get coal.

Dear reader(s), it isn’t easy for a heb like me.

But I’m always searching for silver linings.  On the plus side, I never had to sit on the lap of a beef and cheese smelling, pajama-clad old man in a department store; until I met my husband, I never had to fight the mall marauders for gifts; and I can fully enjoy holiday decorations without having to go through the trouble and expense of decking my halls… or roof… or yard.  Because let’s be honest: I love (looking at) outdoor Christmas decorations – and the tackier, the better!

I’m pretty sure the tackiest décor can be found in my old haunt, Somerville, Mass., where they make gaudy ornamentation an art!  Take, for example, this over-the-top home:

Tacky Christmas Decorations

Now THAT'S how decorating is done!

Isn’t it magnificent?!?  I’m pretty sure you can see this house from space!

I’m on the hunt for additional spotlightable homes!  If you happen to stumble upon similarly tacky décor, send it my way (tweet photos to @PR_SarahG) and I’ll share it on Factinis.

Happy December, dear reader(s)!

I Stabbed My Husband… OR, Passover 2011: Why Is This Night Different From All Other Nights?

April 19, 2011 at 4:30 pm | Posted in Heebs, Married Life | 12 Comments
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Last night I stabbed my husband. 
In the thigh. 
With an EpiPen. 
And then the police and EMTs paid us a house call and took us away with sirens a-blarin’.

Now, before I get into the details, I want to assure you all that Andrew is doing well, so don’t panic!  He’s tired, bruised (I really clocked him!), and doping just like his major league heroes (poppin’ those ‘roids like a champ), but considering what could have happened, he’s on the mend and feeling pretty darn good. 

It all started with a well-meaning Passover Seder, a ceremony in which we Yids retell the story of the Exodus to remind ourselves how lucky we are today, and how much work we have left to do in the world to help others who are less fortunate.  My dad (a.k.a. Rhymes-With-Father-of-the-Bride, or RWFOTB, for you abbreviators) and brother decided to shake things up this year and encourage us all not only to participate in the service, but to really challenge ourselves to experience the Exodus. 

Apparently my good Catholic husband inadvertently took that a little too seriously (but gosh, I love him even more for participating).  Either that or he’d do almost anything to avoid matzo…

‘Whoodles, a little miscommunication triggered an allergic reaction to nuts, which led to my stabbing Andrew in the thigh with epinephrine, which gave emergency personnel in West Hartford a little something to do on a quiet Monday evening, which necessitated a harrowing ambulance ride, and culminated in a glorious almost six hours in the emergency room waiting around and wishing we were noshing on my momma’s famous brisket, my aunt Shirley’s soothing matzo ball soup, and my craveable chocolate and caramel covered matzo.  As we Heebs say: Dayenu! 

Happy matzo to all, and to all a good night!

Man Jew of the Year

February 11, 2011 at 11:04 am | Posted in Famous!, Heebs | 4 Comments
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N.B.: Our blog will return to more general (read: snarky) topics soon – please don’t give up on us just because we’re pushing Heb (or “Heeb,” as RWFOTB says is correct) popularity contests lately!

Well, dear reader(s), we’re pleased to report that my future sister-in-law made the first round of Jewish Girl of the Year her b*tch! Holla (or as we Yids say, Challah!).  Now it’s time to vote for Jewish Guy of the Year, and we’ve got a superstar candidate to push on you: my brother! 

Bieber fever's got nothin' on this future Heb of the Year! Just ask the lady in the blue dress behind my broslice...

That’s right, “Spencer G.” is in the running for Man Jew of the Year and we think you should vote for him.  Why?  Well, it’s not because he’s the best candidate and is dedicated to making the world a better place for everyone, particularly victims of genocide (in memory of our grandmother).  It’s because if I’m related to both the prom king and queen of the Jewish people, I’m pretty sure I’ll get some sweet rewards. 

Reservations at a super exclusive, trendy restaurant?  Check.  I’ll just waltz in, say the magical phrase “do you know who I am??” (this time I’ll have something kick ass to follow that up with: I’m the Most Popular Jews’ Sister, fool!!), and instantly kick someone like Tom Cruise or Justin Bieber out of their table. 

Free swag?  You know it!  When the paparazzi follow Rachel C. and Spencer G. around, they’ll see me awkwardly tagging along, messing up all their photos.  And retailers around the world will know what a great product placement opportunity this is! If I’m gonna be in every photo of the couple imaginable, I may as well look hot. Birkin bag? I’ll take two. Diamond and platinum shoes? Bring ’em on. Chopard Super Ice Watch? Doesn’t matter that I can’t tell time on it – I’d rock it anyway.       

So vote for Spencer as Man Jew of the Year and maybe I’ll remember you when I’m famous (by association).

Dos besos,


Ewwww, words!

June 29, 2010 at 8:14 am | Posted in Misc. | 9 Comments
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Some words should keep their hands to themselves!! (Photo from Australia Post campaign)

A few nights ago I was hanging out with friends when one of us used the word “moist” to describe an ideal cake. My reaction? Sounds delicious! My friend Rhymes-With-Hat-Trick’s reaction? Gross.    

You see, Hat-Trick hates the word moist. In fact, he reported that his mom has a similarly visceral reaction to the same word. Nature v. Nurture? We won’t go there. But I will say that the irrational hatred of words is a far more common occurrence than Daniel Webster might have preferred!    

Which words give you the heeby-jeebies? Does “nectar” make your skin crawl? Does the mere mention of “dungarees” make you want to pull out your hair in clumps? Should “holla” refer exclusively to braided bread or can you abide by using it as a greeting, too? Do tell!    

~ Sarah

Photo Phriday: Books, Pain & Suffering

May 7, 2010 at 8:11 am | Posted in Photo Phriday | 2 Comments
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Our dear reader(s) have really come through with sightings of the wacky and ridiculous!  From Sarah & Erika’s Kosher Fail to Shmaroline’s Soda Nails, Reader T’s Chocolate-Covered Bacon (a no-no for good heebs like me) to Grinch’s Holiday Decor, our Reader’s Mailbag is chock full of tantilizing tidbits! 

And here’s a little Photo Phriday gem phrom my phather: 

Sarah: Saw this sign and thought it might be good phood for Photo Phriday.  Is this what libraries have come to?
Love, Dad (aka Rhymes with Father of the Bride)

No sugar-coating here: knowledge hurts!


Oy vey, dad!  At least they’re honest about it…?   


Reader’s Mailbag: Chocolate-Covered Bacon

October 20, 2009 at 11:49 am | Posted in In The Kitchen | 1 Comment
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A reader recently emailed us:
While the story of how I became aware of the existence of chocolate covered bacon is mildly amusing, I will save that for another time. I need to know what the Wilderoll’s think about this culinary um, dish. Is pork covered with chocolate enough to sway a devout Hebrew to cross over to the dark side? Or, is it so far over the edge that a bacon devotee becomes immune to its powers? I will wait to see the outcome of these burning questions…

Hmmm… Chocolate and bacon. Two of my favorite things. Together. For-ev-er! I like it. But only if the bacon is soft. I hate crunchy (or “crisp” as the foodies say) bacon.

I’m trying to figure out why any non-Heeb would object. And I can say “Heeb” because I say it with love. And because Sarah tells me I’m basically Jewish — except for the loving Jesus part, but he was Jewish, so I don’t see the problem. And the whole pork thing, but I know some Chosen People who dig pig, so I’m good there, too. Actually, Sarah says I must secretly be a Jewish Minnesotan because I love the idea of eating everything on a stick. But that’s another story altogether.

Hoodles, on the matter of chocolate-covered bacon, I say yay.

But wait. Let’s think about this. I always thought chocolate-covered potato chips would be awesome and I was really excited to find them in a candy store in Old Forge. Until I asked the girl for a sample and that little witch forced me to purchase 1/4 lb. because there are no samples. But I was still ok because what’s not to love about chocolate-covered potato chips? And I found out there is a lot not to love about chocolate-covered potato chips. At least the ones I ate, anyway.

So my answer, T, is that I am not opposed to chocolate-covered bacon. In fact, if you bring me some, I will eat it and give you a definitive answer. Like how I just demanded a gift?

Editor’s Note: Got a question? Email, text, twitter, facebook, call, stalk — do what you have to do to ask us. We might have an answer. And we won’t always demand gifts. But we will accept them. WINK!

Did someone say "breakfarts?"

October 6, 2009 at 9:48 am | Posted in Misc. | 1 Comment
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April: So, I had a funny thought during [insert non-incriminating time of day]: what if farts smelled like breakfast foods? Like, maybe I would be bacon; you might be a cheese pastry.

Sarah: Hahahah! I would want to breakfast-smell-fart the aroma of pancakes. But I think in reality it might be egg beaters.

April: Egg beaters would not be good. Pancakes would be great!

Sarah: Agreed! Even oatmeal would be better than egg beater smell.

April: But do you think people would be all: “Ewww, who farted?” Or would it be more like “Mmmm, I smell pancakes. Oh, Sarah, you did it again!”

Sarah: Well, I don’t know. I guess if everyone farted breakfast smells it would be “Oh, Sarah. Not again.” But if we were the only ones to fart-smell that way, it would probably be more like: “Mmmm, anyone in the mood for pancakes? I have a sudden craving for them!” And I would make the world a happier, though probably fatter, place.

April: True story*

Sarah: And if you fart-smelled bacon, we heebs would be able to sense an imposter in our midst. Could be very useful…

April: But what if yours smelled like bacon?

Sarah: How would mine smell like bacon? I’ve never eaten it. That’s like saying yours would smell like matzo ball soup!

April: I don’t know – I mean, how would anyone’s smell like a particular food? It’s a scientific mystery.

Sarah: That’s a good point. I had a friend whose farts used to smell like cooking brussel sprouts, but he never ate veggies.

April: And you don’t know that I don’t fart matzo ball soup smell. Maybe the only time I ever fart around you is when someone is eating that soup.

Sarah: Factomelette- you are a tricksy gal.

April: I don’t blame it on the dog, I blame the soup.

Sarah: I blame your dog.

April: My son has a bib that says “It was the beagle, I swear!”

Sarah: True story!*

April: Missy farts like Chinese food and sometimes bologna. She’s never eaten those.

Sarah: Are you sure? I bet your dog and cat have wild parties when you’re at work. And what’s a party without Chinese food and bologna?

April: A boring one, that’s for sure.

Sarah: Agreed. Why even bother.

Reader(s): what breakfast food would your farts smell like?

*Patent pending.

Leave those trees alone!

September 29, 2009 at 7:43 am | Posted in Around Boston | Leave a comment

In a similar prohibitory theme, the Public Garden is also very protective of its trees.

I totally understand this rule – some of the trees in the Garden, particularly the elms, are centuries old. And still others were selected within the last 50 years as a nod to the ornamental varieties of the Garden’s first seasons. Every tree is meticulously cataloged, monitored and cared for.

But here’s where I get lost…

Query: do the evil Garden squirrels know about this rule, and if so, do they even care? No! Perhaps it is time for a little citizens arrest maneuver (again, I find myself wishing I had a badge or cape or at least an official looking pad of tickets to write!). The squirrels abuse the trees and the people in the Garden! How many times have innocent Bostonians been pelted with nuts from the branches of these beauties by renegade rodents? Too many for me to count. How many holes have these selfish and violent squirrels burrowed into tree trunks? And how often have confused tourists been tricked into feeding these bushy-tailed rats even though that’s against the rules of the Garden, too? Shameful. And after spending yesterday atoning (Yom Kippur – all my heebs say yeah!), I can safely and smugly say they should be ashamed.

Actually, the trees are violent, too. “Falling” acorns? A likely story. People keep trying to convince me that it isn’t me they’re after, that this is “the season” for stuff like that. A likely story! Frankly, sometimes I wonder if those warnings about giving trees their personal space are more for our protection than theirs! (For the Potter-nerds out there, picture the Whomping Willow.) Maybe I should carry around a sign to protect myself from them!

Come to think of it, perhaps what’s really going on here is some sort of nature gang warfare: trees v. squirrels, or flora v. fauna. Maybe the trees aren’t attacking me; maybe they are trying to knock out the evil gang-bangin’ rodents, and our human (read: Sputnik-sized) craniums are just innocent civilian casualties caught up in a terrible turf war. Maybe the trees wish only to wreck the rodents, but we keep wandering into their combat zone – their turf, if you will.

I would still assert that the squirrels are actually aiming for innocent bystanders, but I suppose that’s a theory for another blog…

And so, dear reader(s), I wish you caution and safe travels should you brave the Public Garden. And remember, don’t give the squirrels or the trees any funny looks, avoid affiliated hand signals and symbolic colors, etc. This is the big show…


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