My Boy

Last night I dreamed that me and my friend Lazer were hanging out with George W. Bush. We were in some sort of fancy room drinking something; I can't remember if it was tea of cocktails or what, but at the end of the scene I had some sort of banana juice that I accidentally poured into a glass of tea.

George was pretty cool, man. He was chilling out on the couch, cracking jokes, and just being mellow. We made a few jokes about the fact that everything we were saying was being recorded and that he had the ability to throw us in jail if we got out of line, but it was all in good fun. We had a nice time.

Afterwards, people kept abandoning me when we were supposed to get on a bus together. I was freaking out. My cousin Stephen Siegel showed up with an old skateboard, and I tried to teach myself a few tricks.

But the main point is that me and Lazer had a good time with the president.

I've been chewing on this...

I've been wondering about this for a while, and have some thoughts, but it's such an interesting question (to me, at least) that I thought I'd send it out to whoever is out there before cataloguing my own thoughts on the matter:

Why am I always thinking about / talking about / yearning for treyf (non-kosher food, especially pork, shrimp and oysters)??

Answer honestly, openly and creatively, just be nice, alright? Wanderingstu is feeling a bit tender lately.

You want a damn post?

At least one of you asked for a post. That was sweet.

Last week was warm and sunny. On Purim, about 10 days ago, we had a barbecue on the "quad," music, dancing, good time springtime fun.

Two nights ago it hailed. Small hail. Yesterday morning was snowy and slushy. Then the snow stopped. Then it came again. Then a frenzied downpour of tiny hail, the size of little styrofoam balls, or Dippin' Dots ice cream. Then rain. In spite of all of this, Jonathan, one of the guys from the Yeshiva, and Shana, one of the girls from the girls' school down the hill in Bat Ayin, got married. Roads were cleared, parents shuttled out to the hills, and the ceremony was on.

Suddenly, us boys from the Yeshiva and them girls from the Midrasha (girl's school) are gittin' all friendly. My friend Lazer just got engaged to Sarah Rose (I set them up!! Mazal Tov). Another fellow here just went on an epic 7-hour lunch date with one of the girls from down there, and as for me... well, as for me. Those who know, know.

As for me in other realms--- blech. There is much to say, but one never knows which is the forum in which to say it. For now, I'll just say that I ain't feeling so religious, and that is troubling when my entire life is currently built around religion.

Anyhow, more on that later. Perhaps.

I gotta run.
Shabbat Shalom

After Purim

Well, here's one more Purim shot. My awesome redneck character had ripped shorts, cigarete burns in his t-shirt, and wore longjohns with flip-flops. I shook everyone's hand and said, "I'm Randy- But that ain't my name!!!" Good times.


The truth is, I did not have a shattering, paradigm-shifting Purim, as it's usually described in the brochure. I wandered town, ate meatballs, got wasted, gave some gifts to Rav Natan's wife and daughter*, jumped on a bus from the top of Bat Ayin to the middle, yelled at teenagers to be proud of their native-born Bat Ayin heritage, then stumbled back to the Yeshiva with Noam. Sometime after I induced vomiting and went to sleep around 7pm.

*The gifts, little plastic IKEA boxes with soy pudding and candy, are part of the Mitzvah called Mishloach Manot, which is found in the Book of Esther, and means literally, "Sending Portions," or sending gifts to friends. This morning I woke up, paranoid that I had forgotten to give my gifts during Purim, and had thereby missed one of the most important elements of the holiday. I seemed to have remembered leaving my bag of stuff at Rav Natan's house, because I had intended to give one Mishloach Manot to his son, Aryeh Nachman. I went over there and asked Ruti, Rav Natan's wife, if I had left a black plastic bag there. She said that nothing had been found. I looked across the table and saw one of my litle IKEA boxes. "There it is!!" I was about to hand it to Aryeh Nachman when Ruti told me that I had given it to her yesterday. One to her and one to R'ayah, their oldest daughter. So I ended up stiffing Aryeh Nachman, but I HAD in fact done the Mitzvah on the day of Purim itself, and even kept it in the family. Phew!

Here's the recovery photo:

PURIM

it's the day when jewish folk dress up funny. and drink.