Well, since my declaration of independence from obligational Judaism last week not only have I managed to drag my tush out of bed for Saturday morning services to lead my Shalom Schoolers in the Sh’ma and AGAIN on Sunday to teach those same little Jews a thing or two, I’ve also agreed to attend a planning meeting for the Purim festivities at the JEA and RSVP’d for a “future community leaders” cocktail party. What the hell is wrong with me? Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in … *sigh* At least there’s always food at these things, although I’m with the kinders in being totally over the bottomless barrel of animal crackers that some well-meaning parent brought in at Rosh Hashanah.
I decided as an antidote to all this Jewishy do-goodness, it was high time I surrounded myself with some meshugenah (*from the Yenta’s non-definitive, interpretive modern guide to Yiddish: “crazy-a**” or “batsh*t”) shiksas (*from the Yenta’s non-definitive, interpretive modern guide to Yiddish: fun-loving, non-Jewish girls who you hope will convert before they marry your son.)
See, ever since high school when I was the only Jewish drill team dancer in the history of suburban Arizona (although surely I no longer hold that distinction) I’ve always tended to find myself amonst groups of large blond women. I’m not sure what this shiksa collecting is all about. Maybe I’m trying to emulate their tall, graceful ways; maybe it emphasizes my Semitic good looks. Maybe I’m trying to taunt my mother by introducing them to my Brother the Doctor. Maybe I have repressed fantasies about Pamela Anderson. Whatever the attraction, I always seem to have many dear friends who are much taller and blonder than I. You should see my wedding photos with my bridesmaids — it looks like Tarzan’s monkey bride invited the Amazons to give her away.
Anyhoo, since moving to Savannah I have acquired yet another awesome set of hot blonds (or so they say, only their hairdressers for fer shur) whom I adore and who think my obsession with my own Judaism is boring and will always remind me that I am far too twisted to be trusted with the spiritual shepherding of other people’s children. We got together Saturday night at the home of the Tallest and Blondest (T&B) for some vodka and gossip, and I was really looking forward to not discussing synagogue politics or how to make a Havdalah spice box out of a Coke can.
Now, one member of my blond posse in particular, let’s call her Uber Shiksa Chick, is more charmingly meshugenah than the rest. She’s a brilliant single mom who makes loads of money doing something with insurance; she’s also very up front about the fact that she grew up in Effingham County, GA and therefore knows nothing about Jews except that she’s almost positive that it’s not cool to say they’re cheap like her older brother taught her. USC has this amazing quality of being able to say the most offensive sh*t on the planet and get away with it; she says it’s because she paid $7K for her boobs, I think it’s because underneath her wacka** persona, there’s a truly generous and sincere person — who could probably use some ADD meds. She totally slays me.
So I’m mixing up a pear martini in T&B’s kitchen when USC shows up and takes off her coat, revealing something that blew my mind even more than the huge carton of chicken wings: Hanging around her neck, right above her top-of-the-line rack was a HA-yoooog Star of David.
I gasped and pointed.
“Christ on a bike! Look, I’m sorry b*tch, but the f*ckers at Fresh Market only had chipotle bacon, okay? Eat a cracker and shut up.”
I tried again. “Why…are you…wearing that?”
She looked down. “What? No big deal.”
I sputtered that it IS a big deal, not because it’s offensive, but that if rockin’ Jewish bling has become trendy, well, that is a MARVELOUS milestone for the Jewish people, but Britney Spears aside, I’m not sure we’re there yet. I was pretty sure USC didn’t buy her necklace at Express, so I had to grill her on how might’ve acquired it.
“I stole it. From a cop in Garden City. He was hot.”
First of all, only USC could say that with a straight face. Second, there’s a hot Jewish cop in Garden City and I didn’t know about it?
“Yeah, well, he actually gave it to me. I told him I was going to buy a gun for Christmas but I forgot and I wanted it for protection.”
I tried to explain that wearing a Jewish star is actually the opposite of protection in many neighborhoods of the world and that she would have done better to talk him into giving her his gun, but she was having none of it.
“Look, I’m exploring right now. I’m trying on being Jewish and I don’t need any sh*t from you unless you’re gonna show me how to do it.”
It occurred to me that I could work this to my advantage. “You got it. The first thing you gotta do is go to a meeting about Purim tomorrow night…”
“A PORN meeting? I love this religion already!”
Yeah, I’ve been the only Jewess among blondes for too long — I could get used to sharing the spotlight…
*I must give all kinds credit to Jodi Laird, a fellow brunette and Goddess of Legs, who witnessed the whole scene and took this photo!