It’s Beginning to Sound a Lot Like Chanukah…

Those Maccabeats mensches, so clever and musical! And totally a cappella — not even a shofar to accompany them!

But I’ve heard they’re a revolving group whose members must be of a certain age. Once they get old, they’re out, like the halachic equivalent of Menudo.

HOWEVER, even though these four adorable punims graduated from yeshiva last year, they still made us a Chanukah song — or rather a mash-up of a few:

Cute, nu? But surely these nice boys didn’t listen to Ke$ha over and over again?! That girl couldn’t get kosher if she steeped in the mikveh and moved in with Mayim.

Black Friday $handa

So I wrote this fantastic little story for y’all last Friday about El Yenta Man’s and my adventures in scary shopping.

It was one of those perfect holiday posts, just the right balance of jokesy folksy fun, sentimental musings on gratitude and a small anecdote about how I almost decked someone in the head with my purse.

I also updated you on my dear mother-in-law,  who we enjoyed having at the Thanksgiving table and likely won’t be there next year. I also revealed my secrets on how I make an entire bottle of bourbon disappear with very little assistance. It was a colorful, nuanced piece of writing. You might have enjoyed it, or at least, possibly finished it.

Except that just as I went to post it, my WordPress platform ate it.

Yes, I tried hitting the back button, thanks. It was, I promise, suddenly and finally GONE.

I did, I cried. A little. But I am proud to say that I did not trash my desk like I was Charlie Sheen at the Plaza over this state of affairs, nor did I disappear another bottle of bourbon. But nightfall approached, and though I am the world’s most creative Jew when it comes to the the rules of the Torah, I do NOT write on Shabbos. Rest is rest. So I basically flushed those four hours of work, gathered my family around the table and ate some gawdamuthafarkin leftovers.

On Sunday, when I was racing the deadline for the day job, I stole out to my favorite coffeeshop owned by a WordPress giant. My main WP lady Jane Wells (and also kickass gluten-free baker) sez there must’ve been a glitch in the Internet that prevented the automatic draft-saving feature. Jane said Post Loss has happened to her plenty, and copying and saving writing somewhere on one’s desktop is never a bad idea. She gave her condolences on the death of my post and also advised against trying to rewrite it, as it never comes out as good.

I try to listen to experts. So instead of trying to gather up the lost words like so many grains of sand, I give you something far better: The first Chanukah parody of the year:

Thanks to Jewlicious for spreading the word about the Borenstein Boys from Fairfax, VA. Like these B-Boyz? They have more….

 

“Jewish Mothers Are Born to Kvetch and Worry”

Ninety-one year old Selma Baraz and really pissed at her rotten son for ruining her life.

See, as a Jewish mother, it’s her God-given right to complain about everything that enters her vortex. Even if it’s a good thing, like a free meal or hot celebrity men in their skivvies, there has to be a poopy lining (Applebee’s fries are always served cold, and what is with the pervy moustache, Becks?!)

Unfortunately, for poor kvetchy Selma, her son, James, is a Jewish-Buddhist spiritual teacher and the author of the Awakening Joy meditation practice. He gently suggested, in that annoying JewBu way that makes a person feel petty and unenlightened, that she might, in her 10th decade on earth, begin using a simple tool to make herself happier: Follow every complaint up with “…and I know I am truly blessed.”

Well, the results were disastrous. Check it out:

Favorite line: “I really have become…oh, this kills me…I really have become a happier person…He has ruined my entire life.”

I’ve been doing my best to cultivate an attitude of gratitude for a few years now, and while I’m definitely a more content, enthusiastic and loving person, I’m still a teensy bit worried about fate of the Jewish Mother brand. I mean, if this catches on and all the Jewish Mothers start radiating serenity and practicing acceptance, who will keep up with kugel quality control at the synagogue or sniff unapprovingly when girls try to pass off tights as pants? What would happen if all the Jewish mothers stop wringing their hands over what career paths their children should choose while they’re still in preschool and whether they will still get into college if they quit violin lessons? The world as we know it could devolve into CHAOS.

*Found this on the online mega mazel mall WorldofJudaica.com while I was shopping for a tallis for my rotten son, who blesses me every day.

T-Shirt of the Week: Spinning into the Holiday Spirit

I looked at the calendar this morning and saw that Chanukah is in less than four weeks WHA’?! I’ve barely finished picking wax out of the carpet from last year!

Actually, I loooove it when the Festival of Lights falls early (as in, before Christmas) because we get our holiday season all to ourselves — and then we get to schnorr everyone else’s. (Who’s a sucker for candy canes? This girl.)

I’m already singing holiday songs–especially this lil’ ditty, the Great Dreidel Tournament by menschy children’s entertainer Groovy David Brownstein. Listen here and hum along with me!

Dude is based in L.A., which is a bummer ’cause he’d be an a-MAZE-ing DJ for Yenta Boy’s bar mitzvah. Riddle me this, peeps: WHY ARE MEN WITH PUPPETS SO SEXY? El Yenta Man’s getting a marionette this year, for sure.

Even though I will probably still be running around town for menorah candles on Dec. 8, I had the wherewithal to order this super spectacular dreidel cardigan from Modern Tribe as my gift to myself. (Spoiler for the goyim: The eight presents thing only applies to kids.)

I plan to wear it EVERY SINGLE DAY of Chanukah as payback for the hideous red and green snowman attire I will be accosted by the minute Thanksgiving is over.