TODAY I'LL MEET THE BOY I'M GONNA MARRY...

When life brings you what you want without your having to ask for it, that's what I like to call "pigeon-shit" karma.

My editor at the Jewish Week asked me to cover tonight's finals of the "Funniest Amateur Jewish Standup Comic in New York" competition, which I was planning to attend anyway. My piece is about 400 words, which isn't long at all, but it's getting front-of-the-book prominence, and is going to contain highlights of the show, as well as a brief interview with the winner. As much as I'd love to see a woman win, because women don't get enough props in stand-up, I'd also love to see a man win. Specifically, my man.

If there's any romantic justice in the world, my bashert (my meant-to-be, or as Friend Phoebe would have said, my "lobster") will be there tonight, too. And he's gonna win the competition, and an interview with me. During the interview, he'll be all aglow, energized by the thrill of victory and the presence of a beautiful, hilarious woman. (Just to clarify, that's me.) I'll ask him for his number, in case I have any questions that I need to follow up on, and he'll ask me for mine, just because. Under the dimmed lights at the comedy club, romance will bloom, a love sprung from laughter and nurtured by a steady humor.

Plus, when I submit the article, another paycheck. That's a "win-win" scenario. I'd say that was worth taking a piece of poop in the arm.

TODAY I'LL MEET THE BOY I'M GONNA MARRY...

When life brings you what you want without your having to ask for it, that's what I like to call "pigeon-shit" karma.

My editor at the Jewish Week asked me to cover tonight's finals of the "Funniest Amateur Jewish Standup Comic in New York" competition, which I was planning to attend anyway. My piece is about 400 words, which isn't long at all, but it's getting front-of-the-book prominence, and is going to contain highlights of the show, as well as a brief interview with the winner. As much as I'd love to see a woman win, because women don't get enough props in stand-up, I'd also love to see a man win. Specifically, my man.

If there's any romantic justice in the world, my bashert (my meant-to-be, or as Friend Phoebe would have said, my "lobster") will be there tonight, too. And he's gonna win the competition, and an interview with me. During the interview, he'll be all aglow, energized by the thrill of victory and the presence of a beautiful, hilarious woman. (Just to clarify, that's me.) I'll ask him for his number, in case I have any questions that I need to follow up on, and he'll ask me for mine, just because. Under the dimmed lights at the comedy club, romance will bloom, a love sprung from laughter and nurtured by a steady humor.

Plus, when I submit the article, another paycheck. That's a "win-win" scenario. I'd say that was worth taking a piece of poop in the arm.