I'm getting married in May. Weddings seem to have a chemical peel effect. They bring all the deep debris to the surface with family and friends. Qualities and characteristics emerge in you that you never thought possible. I loathe Martha Stewart and all of a sudden I am jonesing for the next issue of her wedding magazine to hit the stands. I am not cheap but have pretty much given myself an acute case of carpal tunnel from hours on the internet, trying to find the least expensive lavender card stock out there. I never liked pastel colors and now I am trying to find lavender card stock. I don't (as an adult) tend to fight that much with my parents but lately, there have been nightly screaming melodramas where I find myself saying things like "The little girl in me just really wants a donut cart!"
Sometimes though I just need to take a minute and appreciate that I got my particular brand of crazy family. Because as annoying, quirky, and mental as they are, at least we all have the same values and taste. I felt especially grateful for this today as my fiance and I sat at the stationery store where we are getting our invitations done. As we peroused some books, looking for proper wording, a girl and her mother walked in, obviously in the very beginning stages of wedding planning. I know this because their dynamic was still pleasant and optimistic. Let me pause right here to say that I have an unfortunate gift. I can size up someone's character and whether or not I will like it within the first 2 minutes of looking at the person, even if they do not say a word. Seldom am I inaccurate. My fiance is the same way. We are awesome party guests. :) Anyway, I can only describe this girl as not someone I would ever hang out with. I would describe her mother however as not someone I would hitch a ride with even if night in Abu Gharib was my alternative. Mom was all about chunky highlights and bling. Daughter was the odd combo of snobby and depressed. She looked like she may have had a chance to escape Cheeseville at one point but that ship had sailed and now she was deep in it. After knocking my purse off a chair without an acknowlegement or apology, Mom and Daughter sat down next to us and started flipping through the invitation books. They were particularly drawn to a binder entitled "Royal Classics". My fiance looked over at me. We both knew the "royal" part was troubling. We could not have imagined the level of goushe ugliness we were about to experience. Huge, gaudy declaration of independence size invitations complete with the "We the people" dramatic writing. (Thanks, Julie.) Pearlized flowers. Rhinestones. Raised emblems. Faux-classy monograms. Mom and daughter were ooh-ing and ahh-ing at every page. They liked each one better than the last. But then they hit the motherload. The "one". It was a metallic cream invitation. Sort of a pearl like texture. It had huge gold lettering and...netting. A full blown mesh cover that had to be lifted in order to see the actual invite. This was the nouveau riche burka of invitations. "Mas elegante!" Mom exclaimed. She leaned over to me.
"I am very into elegance" she said.
"MAS elegance," I reminded her.
She gave me a blank stare as if she had no idea what I was referring to.
Sometimes I just can't help it. I need to make fun of lame people in order to provide a more comfortable space for both of us. In these kind of situations, I kind of live by the "what they don't know won't hurt them" policy. I mean c'mon, do you think Mom will ever grasp the great irony of her praising elegance while wearing a potato sized diamond cross and using bad Spanglish?
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Thursday, January 17, 2008
For Franc...
So, this whole blogging thing feels a little awkward. My fiance bought me a domain name as a Christmas/Hannukah gift because he "thinks my point of view is worth hearing". I guess I am trying to figure out if I agree with him. I mean, I love doing stand-up and being a total clown at parties but this feels very different and a much more intense. I am recording my internal (often fucked up) dialogue on public domain. Self conscious does not begin to describe the feeling I'm having. So, with that disclaimer, I will begin by addressing the origin of the name "Merry Jewess"...
About four years ago, I was working in development at a small production company. I had just moved back to L.A. after spending 6 years in New York and I was trying to figure out what was next for me (aka completely procrastinating on getting any serious writing done). An aquaintance offered me a job. The pay was bad but the work environment was pleasant and there were decent benefits. There were a few other cool women who worked there and we all became somewhat close in that "If one of us left this job, we would probably never speak again" way. The company soon hired an intern whose name is now escaping me. But the important detail is that he was German. I guess we'll call him Franc. Franc was incredibly grateful to obtain this internship because he was a theater major at a local college. No one was quite sure what exactly he would learn when his only real duty was occasionally picking up an overpriced chopped salad or Frappucino but he was an eager, upbeat guy nonetheless. We liked him. Done deal. We did notice, however, that he spent a good deal of time typing away on the computer in his cublicle. And it was constant. Not the normal intermittent web-surfing kind of typing but more of the manifesto-writing variety. One day, curiousity got the best of us and one of the other girls asked him what he was writing. He answered simply, "My blog." For some reason, this peaked the interest of my office mate. After Franc left for the day, she googled his name and "blog". She immediately found it although it was written entirely in German. And this is when we all realized that God must have been in a great mood the day he created Google because it has a "translate" option. The words suddenly appeared in English. Well, Franc was nothing if not positive! He began my telling all his friends in Germany how great his internship was. Particularly because of the fact that he had access to certain actors' home addresses and phone numbers. He was even kind enough to share this information with his pals! He then went on to give a very detailed description of our offices as well as the people he worked with. He was flattering and kind in his portrayals of us, I must say. Each one of us got our own little casting breakdown. Liza was a "tall, Sassy Southern girl". Katrina was "bold, intense and all about work". And me? I was a "merry little Jewess". After this last description was read, there was a collective sucking in of breath. Liza and Katrina (both not Jewish) looked at me, deeply concerned. A young German man called me a Jewess? What the fuck?! Well, needless to say, that was Franc's last day. However, the seemingly anti-semitic remark was not the main reason he was let go. In fact, the seriousness of that offense would have been entirely left up to my discression. The reason Franc was given for his firing was publishing a well known starlet's home address and telephone number on a German website. Our doomed intern left quietly during lunch hour therefore I never really got to say goodbye. So, Franc, if you are by chance reading this, I want to say that I really appreciate you using the adjective "merry" to describe me. I always considered myself more of the acerbic, depressed type. Also, thanks for the awesome blog name.
Auf Wiedersehen,
MJ
About four years ago, I was working in development at a small production company. I had just moved back to L.A. after spending 6 years in New York and I was trying to figure out what was next for me (aka completely procrastinating on getting any serious writing done). An aquaintance offered me a job. The pay was bad but the work environment was pleasant and there were decent benefits. There were a few other cool women who worked there and we all became somewhat close in that "If one of us left this job, we would probably never speak again" way. The company soon hired an intern whose name is now escaping me. But the important detail is that he was German. I guess we'll call him Franc. Franc was incredibly grateful to obtain this internship because he was a theater major at a local college. No one was quite sure what exactly he would learn when his only real duty was occasionally picking up an overpriced chopped salad or Frappucino but he was an eager, upbeat guy nonetheless. We liked him. Done deal. We did notice, however, that he spent a good deal of time typing away on the computer in his cublicle. And it was constant. Not the normal intermittent web-surfing kind of typing but more of the manifesto-writing variety. One day, curiousity got the best of us and one of the other girls asked him what he was writing. He answered simply, "My blog." For some reason, this peaked the interest of my office mate. After Franc left for the day, she googled his name and "blog". She immediately found it although it was written entirely in German. And this is when we all realized that God must have been in a great mood the day he created Google because it has a "translate" option. The words suddenly appeared in English. Well, Franc was nothing if not positive! He began my telling all his friends in Germany how great his internship was. Particularly because of the fact that he had access to certain actors' home addresses and phone numbers. He was even kind enough to share this information with his pals! He then went on to give a very detailed description of our offices as well as the people he worked with. He was flattering and kind in his portrayals of us, I must say. Each one of us got our own little casting breakdown. Liza was a "tall, Sassy Southern girl". Katrina was "bold, intense and all about work". And me? I was a "merry little Jewess". After this last description was read, there was a collective sucking in of breath. Liza and Katrina (both not Jewish) looked at me, deeply concerned. A young German man called me a Jewess? What the fuck?! Well, needless to say, that was Franc's last day. However, the seemingly anti-semitic remark was not the main reason he was let go. In fact, the seriousness of that offense would have been entirely left up to my discression. The reason Franc was given for his firing was publishing a well known starlet's home address and telephone number on a German website. Our doomed intern left quietly during lunch hour therefore I never really got to say goodbye. So, Franc, if you are by chance reading this, I want to say that I really appreciate you using the adjective "merry" to describe me. I always considered myself more of the acerbic, depressed type. Also, thanks for the awesome blog name.
Auf Wiedersehen,
MJ
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