JEWISH LIFE MEETS "THE REAL WORLD"

What happens when Jews stop being polite, and start being real.

An article in the Forward reports that two Canadians have decided to create a (13-part) reality show that features the life of a Jewish family going through the various milestones on the Jewish calendar. Titled "The Mazal Tov Chronicles," the show will be a depiction of traditional Jewish life. But what those traditions will be and how they will be displayed is going to be the tricky part:

"The challenge is to find a family that would agree to break the rules that they are trying to observe in order to educate the public," Leipnik [the producer] explained.

Oooh. That is a challenge. You have to find people who are knowledgeable about Judaism, traditional in their observance, with personality and humor, conflict and sensitivity, and who are willing to be a little less observant so that the cameras can be present to record observance in the name of education.

If this family also has a single son in his thirties, my dating search is over.

HEY, I WONDER WHEN JON STEWART IS GOING TO BE ON TV THIS WEEK...

Now I don't have to wonder anymore. This new search engine tells me everything I need to know about my favorite stars' TV appearances this week.

Whose performances are you looking for this week?

MTV AWARDS--NO KABBALAH WEDDING

Darnit. I was really hoping for Britney and Kevin to wed onstage at the VMAs this year. Instead, we got Olsen twins wearing sackcloth, Flaming Lips singer Wayne Coyne channeling his inner bubble boy, and Jessica Simpson making her usual weird singing faces and this time adding a squeaky, yet nasal, non-resonant quality to her voice that made her sound like Britney. She performed the first of her two songs aloft, sitting in a ring that was suspended over the crowd. Even though she was singing the whole time, I thought I saw fear in her eyes. Maybe that accounts for the less-than-stellar vocal quality.

Best musical performance (and the only one I saw) was Nelly and Christina. That girl's trashy, but man, can she sing. And for some reason, I totally love me some Nelly*. Always have. I just think he's terrific at turning the phrases into grooves that you can't stop. Add him to the soundtrack of all our vacations, wherever they are.

*You'd think his adding r's to words would offend me as an editor. But for some reason it doesn't. "Hot in Here" becomes "Hot in Herre." And I'm fine with that.

LAURA BRANIGAN

Sad news this morning: Laura Branigan, the pop singer best known for "Gloria," died of an apparent brain aneurysm at the age of 47.

You may also know her hits "Self-Control" (I walk among the creatures of the night/I haven't got the will to try and fight...); "Solitaire" (Solitaire--see what it's like now/Solitaire--to cry all night now/Solitaire--see how it feels to play...); and "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You," which Michael Bolton (Branigan's co-writer on the song) rerecorded when no one asked him to.

On a personal note: "Gloria" was the centerpiece of my bat mitzvah mix tape, which also included "Celebration" by Kool & the Gang, and "Flashdance: What a Feeling." Part of the soundtrack to my childhood, truly.

INTERNET TURNS 35

NOT-QUITE-FRIAR'S CLUB ROAST OF THE INTERNET
(TRANSCRIPT EXCERPT, Esther Kustanowitz, presenter)

Thank you very much, everyone. It's my honor to be here!

Internet...if you look around, you'll see that many of us turned out to celebrate this special day with you. I guess Google works after all!

[laughter]

Let's face it, folks--puberty sucks, even for an information superhighway! In fact, when it first started, the Internet was no superhighway, it was a cul de sac.

In the early days, you weren't much to look at, either. I'm not saying you were ugly, but when those first two computers were linked to each other using a heavy gray cable, it was little better than trying to communicate through two paper cups connected by a string!

[laughter]

We never dreamed then that you would be revised, streamlined, rebuilt and even reinvented by an almost-President of the United States. Nor did we ever believe that we'd ever be able to track miscreants and misanthropes, ex-students and ex-boyfriends, order celebrity merchandise and stalk celebrities, under your supervision and with your assistance.

[applause--many stand in tribute]

I know everyone in this room owes you a debt of gratitude, for the endless cache of information and for being the ultimate information service provider.

[applause]

Or, in short: Thanks for all the porn.

[laughter and knee-slapping]

But seriously, I know you've accomplished much in your life, and my pride in you can best be expressed in song:

[sings a la Marilyn Monroe]
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday, Mr. Internet...
I'M STILL YOUNGER THAN YOU...

[crowd erupts in gasping peals of laughter]

That's right! I'm younger, and I always will be!! Thank you, and good night!

ABOUT LAST NIGHT*

This blog is not known for its “what I did last night” posts. My Urban Kvetch tends to be “less diary, more soapbox/comedy club.” Which I’m fine with, don’t get me wrong. But last night I went somewhere really interesting, both in the physical and metaphysical sense.

If you’re networked into this whole NYC blogger community, you may know that Candace was in town for a few days, and that Karol gathered the NY bloghorde to pay homage to the visitor and the tremendous hybrid of balance and style that allows her to walk in her fabu shoes. We went to Fashion 40, a lounge so swanky that the website tells you almost nothing about what’s available to eat or drink, and where the drinks menu was encased in bronze, and featured such options as a bottle of liquor for your table for 200 or 300 bucks. (Naturally, I bought each person a bottle.**) It was like being at those clubs in the Hamptons***, but it was in Times Square, nestled on a side street around the corner from tourist trap central. Turn the corner, walk away from the neon lights and pedestrian din, toward the mellow, dimmed lounge lighting and pulsing music of Fashion 40. It’s another world.

Arriving at 9pm, we had the run of the upstairs to ourselves. Blogmania. Walking in, I recognized several folks and met others. Dawn Summers, who I’ve been dying to meet since I missed her birthday party last month, and who generously bought the early birds a round of drinks. Steve Silver and Ken Wheaton, who I’ve been reading for a long time, and of course the guest of honor, our Candy Girl. Met girl-without-a-blog Vanessa, and petitedov, who's just back from the Holy Land, Blessed Be It. Good to see my other girls, Lisa, Jessica and Ari, as always. In particular, I missed Deb (my Sunday buddy) and the eminently plagiarizable Fish (who was apparently elsewhere) , and would have felt the same about C and Dahl had I not met them by Madison Square Park’s Shake Shack for a lovely picnic lunch.

At one point I looked around and thought to myself: Who are these people in this place? These people are strangers. But I know them.

Around 10:45, I had to tear myself away. I had to go back to the Upper West Side to see a guy about a thing. On the train, I made a few notes.

I admire them for the strength of their convictions, their optimism, talent, generosity, spirit, commitment, ability to use their drive and skills to make concrete connections between their present and their future, their power to use their words to transition their dreams into reality.

An hour later, having found neither the guy nor the thing, I was home, wishing I had stayed in the crowded, noisy Fashion 40 lounge, debating the lyrical merits of OutKast’s “Roses,” and feeling a little like a celebrity, among my peers.


* No Brat Packers were harmed during the creation of this post.

**Note to my landlord, who's concerned I might not make rent, there is no inherent truth in this sentence.

*** Not that the Urban Kvetch Bloggerette has often been to those Hampton clubs. Ever since her spat with Paris Hilton over whether Tinkerbell was a rat or a dog which resulted in Lizzie trying to back her over with her RangeRover, the UKB has been keeping a low profile on the NYC lounge scene, wearing comfortable shoes and restricting her nightlife to local Upper West Side watering holes and apartment parties.

FULL FRONTAL ASSAULT

I know I'm going to get in trouble for this with some of my more Republican blogger friends, but what the heck. (After that headline, I surely deserve trouble of some sort.)

Naked Guys Sing, But Not For Republicans

I don't think anyone in NY has been scandalized by this show in years. This is New York, after all. We thrive on the edgy, the liberal, and often, the naked. But even if you're not from around these here parts, there's no way you can buy your ticket to this musical and say "Gasp! I had no idea what this show was about!" It tells you what you're gonna get right [ahem...] up front.

If there's one thing I've learned through my blog connections, it's that, Yes Virginia, there are likable, non-evangelist, non-evil Republicans. But stories like this make it seem like all Republicans fear any kind of liberal expression, be it artistic or political.

I'm not saying visiting elephants should HAVE to go to NBS, any more than they should have to go to the Museum of Sex, or even the Metropolitan Museum of Art, for that matter. I'm just saying, let them decide for themselves.

It's like that scene in Monty Python's Life of Brian, when the crowd is gathered outside Brian's house, and he's shouting, "You don't have to follow a leader! You are all individuals!" The crowd chants back in perfect unison, "Yes, we are all individuals!" (Brilliance.) And then a small voice pipes up: "I'm not." That guy, the dissenting voice in the crowd, who in his singular dissent indicates that he is not his own person, I somehow think he's the one going to see Naked Boys Singing, even if it's not on the list of approved (and therefore discounted) NYC attractions.

So in the interim, I'm filing this New York Times article under "Let Each Republican Decide What He Or She Wants To Do or See in New York City." Either that, or "I Bet the Naked Boys Are Too Sad About Not Performing for Republicans to Be Singing."

Plus, I'd like to offer this additional list of things that the visiting, sensitive Republican may wish to steer away from:

• Times Square--Though cleaner than it used to be, ostentatious Lion King heads, brewery billboards and wax statues of Whoopi Goldberg may cause alarm reaction in certain Republicans.

• Jennifer Love Hewitt--Firstly, there's that love right in the middle of her name--she should be waiting for marriage. Secondly, her song "Bare Naked" was an affront to family values, in addition to rhyme and music.
  
• That Guy Near the Subway Who Sells the Booklet of 200 Sexual Positions for $2.00
  
• The Subway Itself--The subway system shuttles many people of many ethnicities, proclivities, nationalities, and levels of cleanliness underneath this fair city. Best to avoid such direct contact, or at least use Purell before and after exposure.
  
• The Upper West Side--If they're looking for a few good bagels or a nice piece of Nova, a few stragglers may make it up to Zabar's. But somehow, I doubt my neighborhood's getting many Republican tourists. Unless some of them need a minyan.
  
• Riverside, Central, Washington Square and Madison Square Parks--Partly grassy, with a strong chance of hippies.

Too bad they missed the East Village Howl Festival... Wigstock and the Republican National Convention seem like such a natural match.

SEPARATE WAYS

"Separate Ways" was the original title to this article, my latest Jewish Week column, about how it feels for a single person to attend weddings where there is or isn't separate seating*. The new title is "Separation Anxiety," which is better in some ways. But it is not in any way evocative of the classic Journey video of the same name (in which Steve Perry's hair is all feathery, and the band's instruments are constantly disappearing and reappearing...good times...).



*For those who have not been to many religious Jewish weddings, I append this explanation: In Orthodox circles, seating in the synagogue is separate, with a men's section and a women's section that is sectioned off by a divider, called a mechitzah. Some Orthodox weddings insist that the men and women also sit apart for the ceremony, even though it is not, strictly speaking, a prayer service and often does not take place in a synagogue. (That is all. You may read the article now...)

DEAR DIARY

Dear Diary,

I can't believe it. It finally happened! After months of hoping that people were listening, I have the affirmation I've needed.

I am finally a genre.

And in related news, last night's fortune cookie read: "Your success will astonish everyone."

It's like something deep within me has finally been freed...on breezy late summer nights, I feel the wind whisper, through my hair, a greater, more essential truth than any I've ever known.

Success exists, it says. The future awaits. Which I interpret as "Book Contract To Come."

"OH GOD!" SHE'S FUNNY

I love Ellen Degeneres. I truly do. I've even been working on a humor article about how much I love her (if only she were Jewish...just kidding, mom and dad...) that is intended as a companion piece to my "Comedic Timing" article the Jewish Journal printed last summer. (Who knows if it will ever see the light of day anywhere. But I can always print it here, and when it's ready, I just may do that...)

But seriously, Ellen's hilarious. As women comedians go, she's pretty much God. Literally.

In fresh news I just found online, it was announced that Ellen's starring in the remake of "Oh God!", a movie that was watched repeatedly by Kustanowitz children throughout our youth, and in fact, may have been the formation of my "let's all get along/we are all children of God" theology.

This casting is also good for the media, because all the magazines need to do is take all the covers featuring Ellen from several years ago, which were titled "I'm Gay!", and replace those header words with "I'm God!" Only a two-letter difference, you see. Very good for typesetters.

Now, Ellen's no George Burns. Which is probably a good thing. Kids today don't relate to the cigar-chomping comedian. In this day and age, God might go over better as a hilarious lesbian with her own talk show. Of course, we haven't heard from the Religious Right yet, and I venture to say that this news hasn't hit the Republican National Convention yet, either.

You heard it here. Now watch the sparks fly.

LOJACK FOR FRIENDS

It's official. Either I'm psychic, or the world is crumbling. But I'm pretty sure that, in either case, it's not the Republicans' fault.

Last week, I was at a karaoke event at the JCC, where I was rockin' the mic with virtuoso renditions of Pat Benatar songs and moonlighting on other people's renditions of "I Got You Babe" and "The Banana Boat Song." I re-met someone I had originally met in March at the UJC Conference. "Now, I'm sure I'll see you everywhere!" I laughed.

The next day, I'm on line for pizza at Hot and Crusty, despite the disgust I feel having to pronounce those two words in a comestible context. There he was again, a breathing incarnation of my premonitive powers. "You see? I told you," I said. "But what would really be helpful to me is if you'd implant some sort of subdermal tracking device, so I could have your location beamed to me. It would make stalking you so much easier," I joked. "I'm looking into getting a GPS," he parried.

Tonight, my friend Brendan sent me an email telling me he "wasn't stalking me, yet..." and suggesting that I check out this website. Apparently, there is a Global Positioning System for people. If you and your friends register with them, all you have to do is text message your position to the site, and the site will let you know, via message to your cellphone, who among your friends is in a ten-block radius.

Call it Lojack for friends, or Friendster with legs. Or, the end of the world.

PLAY MISTY FOR ME

Giving AWOL a new definition, the Alcohol Without Liquid* machine converts your favorite alcoholic libation into a breathable mist. Pour a shot into the diffuser capsule, which connects to a pipe. Oxygen is pumped through it, absorbing the alchohol and creating a vapor, which you suck through a tube and inhale. It's apparently huge with British clubgoers, but it sounds like an import of the bong lifestyle into mainstream watering holes. (This story via The Morning News.)

This machine is debuting tonight at the Trust Lounge in the meatpacking district, but may actually be illegal. NY authorities are investigating this and are concerned that it may make getting drunk look even cooler.

Why I'm sticking with liquid alcohol

• Dehydration fears mandate the ingestion of liquids
• Sticky summer nights still require the mitzvah of frozen margaritas
• AWOL machine further enables the metaphor of alcoholics saying, "I need it...it's like the air that I breathe..."
• In New York bar scene, it is more socially acceptable to wield a martini glass than an oxygenating machine
• Sipping a drink is sexier than gasping at the contents of a tube (although I'm sure some will disagree with me on this one...)
• AWOL machine not yet available as beamable program/attachment for my Palm
• AWOL machine does not fit in hip new Ferragamo** clutch
• Friday night dinners will not be the same without Rashi's Moscato D'Asti for kiddush
• POINTS value of alcohol mist is yet to be determined

*Semantics--I would argue that the proper acronym for Alcohol without Liquid is A.W.L. Invocation of the previous definition of AWOL lends the new product an aura of desertion and rebellion, which is maybe what was intended...

**Who'm I kidding? As if I own a Ferragamo clutch...

150!!

I'm at 150 posts! Amazing. Who knew I had so much to say? Actually, pretty much everyone.

My stats right now?

Over 5100 page views.
An average of 6 posts per week (factoring in a Day of Rest, this means about one post daily...)
My Blogger Profile's been viewed over 1000 times.
Including my other blogs, I've writtten over 51,000 words.

I've made three new IM friends, met about a dozen new friends in real life, and formed connections with at least a dozen others who I'd love to meet someday.

I'll do another site-in-review post when I reach my bicentennial post. (That's 200. Actually, I think a bicentennial refers to years, not blog posts, but work with me, people.)

Thanks to the fans, and to God, without whom the Internet* would not be possible.


*Apologies to Al Gore.

STREAKOGRAPHY

Ron Bensimhon--Behind the Streaker

A Google search for "Ron Bensimhon" reveals the following "Streakography":

• Had the words "Golden Palace.com" tattooed across his chest, in an effort to show the online casino how effective a promoter he is
• Interrupted Michelle Kwan at World Figure Skating Championships in March by slipping on a pair of skates and heading out onto the ice in a yellow tutu
• Upgraded to much more manly blue tutu for interruption of the 2004 Olympic Men’s Synchronized 3M Springboard Finals on August 16
• At said Springboard Finals, belly-flopped off the diving board wearing said blue tutu and proceeded to mock synchronized swimming
• Is the streaking successor/heir apparent of previous GoldenPalace.com streaker Mark Roberts, who made streaking history at the Super Bowl
• Appears to be the twelfth streaker who has advertised the online casino, although the site says this stunt wasn't their idea
• Is 31 and hails from Montreal, Canada
• May or may not be Israeli (although the name seems like he is...) which would make the second time this month that an Israeli makes major news (see also Golan Cipel)
• According to an online site, is also the "contact person in Montreal for cat and dog product"

For pix of the fabu stunt and its predecessors, see my new friends at Standard Deviance.

In all of the reports, there's no mention of a wife or girlfriend. Now how can that be??

ON HUMAN BILLBOARDS AND DANGEROUS TUTUS

Remember that shirtless guy who ran across the stage at the 1998 Grammys--upstaging the dour-but-talented Artist formerly known as Robert Zimmerman*--and on his chest was written "Soy Bomb"?

That guy, and the Soy Bomb mission**, was weird enough. But here's a story from one of my daily e-subscriptions, Cynopsis.com:

Perhaps you were watching the synchronized diving event the other evening on television, and heard the commentators talking about a spectator jumping up on the platform and diving into the pool while wearing a tutu. Seems this spectator was Canada's own 'human billboard' - that is a guy who shows up places, strips down to reveal the name of a casino website address painted on his chest. For this particular event, the man, Ron Bensimhon, 31, of Montreal, was wearing a blue knee length tutu, polka dot leggings, oversized clown shoes and a url address as he dove off the board and into the pool. He was promptly arrested and charged with the Greek crime of interrupting a sporting event in progress. Meanwhile, Olympic security has been pumped up to avoid such distractions, including deploying an arsenal of undercover security people at all the venues. And in any case, as pointed out by the Athens security liaison, 'there is no security device in the world that will detect a tutu.'

Oh, but what if there were? What a glorious world that would be. Tutu detection is an issue that the social indignant within us all should embrace. I mean, if we allow tutus to roam free in this world, what will be our fate? Will we all be forced to develop the necessary dancers' calves and quads? Will we pirouette to work, accompanied by classical music? Remember, if we don't develop the technology to guard our society against tutus, the terrorists win.

*That's Bob Dylan, kids.
**The Soy Bomb mission calls for the eradication of cheese. Not, as Monty Python would have said, "makers of all dairy products," but solely cheese. For more of this insanity, check their website.

EIGHT REASONS

8 Reasons Why I Should Be a Talking Head on "VH1's Best Week Ever"

1. I have an excellent, well-proportioned head.
2. Decades of intensive study of pop culture have cultivated a mind full of classic movie quotes from Star Wars to Sixteen Candles.
3. Excellent sense of humor and NYC improv experience has yielded remarkable writing skills and ability to entertain at parties.
4. I have interviewed such pop culture icons as Cindy Chupack and Adam Mesh.
5. I'm a legacy: My parents and brother have already been on VH1 (50 Most Awesomely Bad Videos) and now it's my turn.
6. I have already worked in the MTV nerve center at 1515 Broadway.
7. My column in the New York Jewish Week has increased readership by 15 million subscribers.
8. I know how to use exaggeration to my advantage. (See #7.)

DARKNESS VISIBLE

Darkness Visible, my new Jewish Week singles column, is now available online. It's a little different in tone, a little more personal..."one woman's" tale of a spiritual and city-wide blackout, about a year ago.

GOOD NEWS...

This just in, good news for Superfreelancer...

My Jewish Week column, First Person Singular, is now going to be running every other week, instead of every fourth week. That means twice as many pieces on living single and Jewish in NYC. And that, in turn, means that I will probably find a boyfriend tomorrow, and be rendered so immobile with happiness that I'll be unable to muster the energy, let alone the creativity, to come up with topics of interest to singles.

OK, it's a bit of an exaggeration (there's no boyfriend on the horizon, and I've still got about a dozen ideas in the creative hopper). But still, I need your help.

I'm putting together a dating questionnaire that I hope some people will consider filling out and sending back to me. If you'd like a survey sent to you, please email me and I'll add you to the list of people who are guaranteed* to go to Heaven for helping me. Thank you!


*Not a guarantee.

UNSENT

This is a letter to the editors of Entertainment Weekly that I wrote back in May, saved to a folder and promptly forgot about. So I resurrect it for you, gentle readers.

Dear Editor,

"Mazel Toddler," a piece about the clothing lines for Jewish newborns, quotes the creator of the "Bris Kit" as saying that the original prototype for the diaper was "embroidered with a Hebrew blessing, [but] the Orthodox community didn't want the word God anywhere near the butt."

My 30-something chick-flick trained brain knew that this was life imitating art: "They don't make Sunday." "Why?" "Because of God." (All you Harrys and Sallys out there know where I'm coming from.)

B-L-O-G spells U-N-I-T-Y, maybe

Finally, the "news" that may unite Democrat and Republican bloggers alike. George W.'s blog has been discovered by White House authorities, "reports" The Onion:

WASHINGTON, DC—In the interest of national security, President Bush has been asked to stop posting entries on his three-month-old personal web log, acting CIA director John E. McLaughlin said Monday... Bush said he could not understand McLaughlin's anger, characterizing his blog as a "personal thing written for friends and family or whoever" and therefore "none of the CIA's business."

The picture alone is totally precious. And click on the sample blog page for a larger, readable version. The story tickled me on a tired Tuesday morning.

MADONNEWS CENTER UPDATE 2

Guess Who's Coming to (Rosh Hashanah) Dinner?

Ha'aretz reporter Sarah Bronson reports that the L.A.-based Kabbalah Center has booked 950 rooms and a huge ballroom to serve as a synagogue at the Tel Aviv Intercontinental Hotel and the Dan Panorama Hotel from September 15-26.

Dude, Where's My Blonde Ambition and Boy Toy-Loving Actress?

While there was no confirmation that Madonna, Demi and Ashton would be among the 2,000 tourists expected on the tour, it was confirmed that the group would include fashion designer Donna Karan and whatever-she-is-now Marla Maples.

Like an Orthodox Prayer

Yes, Madonna--there is a mechitzah (partition between the men and women during a prayer service). Prayer services for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur will "be conducted with all the trappings of Orthodox Jewish practice" but with added opportunities for reflection and meditation, as well as ongoing explanations of each ritual, like the blowing of the chauffeur. (Oops, I meant "shofar"...)

Of course, if this were a real Orthodox-sponsored program, women wouldn't be allowed anywhere near the Kabbalah and men under a certain age without children would be similarly dissuaded from mystical study.

Forgives Like Chicken

The article further notes that the group does plan to do "kaparos" while it is there. For those of you who have never witnessed the ritual, it "symbolize(s) the removal of sin from oneself and inspire(s) inner reflection and repentance." The traditional kaparos ritual involves the swinging of a live chicken in a circle over your head as you recite the words. I only witnessed this once, and it was enough for me, as it ends in the beheading of the chicken, which (it's true), does continue to move after it has been decapitated, and giving it to the poor for food. An alternate form of the ritual calls for you to swing money over your head in place of the avian, and give the money to charity. In either case, the important thing is the reflection, the repentance, and the giving to charitable causes.

To the staff* at My Urban Kvetch, kaparos for 2,000 Kabbalah followers in Tel Aviv seems an overwhelmingly appropriate metaphor for what we know about the Kabbalah Center movement and their ability to influence otherwise intelligent people** to run around like chickens right after their heads have been removed from their bodies.

Plus, it means 2,000 less chickens at Tel Aviv branches of KFC.

* My Urban Kvetch staff consists of Me, Myself, and I.
**Argue all you want about Britney's capacity for intelligent discourse. But Ashton studied electrical engineering before he became a model/actor. And say what you want about the former Material Girl, but Madge is one smart businesswoman--she's a strategist, above all else, and that she's been with Kabbalah so long is either the smartest reinvention yet, or a truly lobotomizing experience.

SPAM-ALOT! THE MONTY PYTHON MUSICAL

("I like to push the pram alot...")

Casting is underway for SPAM-ALOT!, the Monty Python Musical, which plays a limited engagement in Chicago through January. Previews in NYC begin in February 2005 for a March 10 opening, so start saving your buckage now. Undoubtedly, tickets will cost upwards of $100, so if you save a dollar a day, you should be able to snag a seat...

Jay reports the following roles have been cast:
Sir Lancelot Agador Spartacus Wiggum...Hank Azaria
Arthur, the Sweet Transvestite King of the Britons...Tim Curry
Brave, Brave Neurotic Sir Doctor Niles Robin Crane...David Hyde Pierce

Complete info here.

THE NEED FOR SPEED...IN C-MAJOR

Finally, a musical meant to Take My Breath Away...

C-Major Maverick? Goose in G? Yessir, ladies and gentlemen, the New York Musical Festival proudly presents Toronto's newest show: Top Gun, the Musical. (Paging Rick Rossovich...)

It's the story of a writer, who crashed and burned with his previous musical, Apocalypse Wow, and needs to make his next musical a hit. Undoubtedly, he encounters all sorts of impediments and MACH-3 power ballads along the way.

(Fish is going to love this, I know. I'm not sure about whether or not there's a "Playing with the Boys" volleyball scene, but I can only hope for yes. And no, I don't think Tom Skerritt is involved.)

Anyone want to go? Most admissions are $15, but if you want to become a sponsor, several levels are available... more info here.

I'm such a fan of the idea of this festival that I think I'm going to become an "entry-level" sponsor. I so want to write a musical. Maybe I'll make that my 2005 project. Collaborators welcome, especially since I don't read or necessarily write music.

See you in the Dangerzone, kids!!

RANDOM LYRIC

Y'know what a mondegreen is? It's one of those song lyrics that is constantly misheard. Like "Scuse me, while I kiss this guy," or "Hold me closer, Tony Danza..."

Y'know that Maroon 5 song, "Harder to Breathe?"

The first line, really:
"So you say that my behavior's unacceptable..."

What I hear, every time the song plays even though I actually know the real lyric:
"So you say that my bikini's in the Superbowl..."

Is this a new strain of PTSD, presenting in those of us who witnessed Janet Jackson's, ahem, appearance, at last year's Superbowl? I think the CDC needs to investigate this.

FREE HUGS AND RESUMES ON THE TRAIN

Just read this piece in the New York Observer called "White Collar Beggar." It's about Jayson Littman, a guy who runs a free hugs booth every Sunday in Washington Square Park, where he gives out hugs to strangers, and during the week, travels the subway, going from car to car handing out copies of his resume, hoping someone can hook him up with a job.

Madd props to Jayson, a networker who's taking his job search to the streets. Of course, if you read the article, it also talks about how his boss has sort of found out that he's looking for a new job...but still, Jayson, good job with the looking for a good job. You've found a captive audience and a mass market all in one! Best of luck, dude.

UHMIGAWD...

Someone else had my idea. Alert the media, because apparently, the Urban Kvetch concept's gone retail. I'm a T-shirt.

BLOGCRUSH GROOVE: ELECTRONIC BLOGALOO

Yeah, I'm not sure what that header means.

Have you ever had a Blogcrush? (See Bloghead for some explanations of what this might entail.)

Have you ever fallen in love with someone through their writing? (Obviously, this happens to me all the time, and is the likely explanation for why my number of blog visitors continues to rise and the number of comments continues to fall--my blogcrushers are intimidated by my blend of wit and wisdom, and are afraid to approach me...I assume this is also true in real life...)

Have you ever transitioned a Blogcrush into a relationship? Was it all it was blogged up to be, or did you encounter disappointment? If your Blogrelationship thrived, did you blog about it, or did you keep it between the two of you? And when Blogcrushes go bad and split up, do the readers suffer?

I'm curious about this phenomenon. If you have stories, please pass them on, via comments or email. Who knows--you could end up as part of a future column, or just as entertainment before Queen Esther. Either, a noble purpose. Please, share.

WHO DO I LOOK LIKE?

I tried this star estimator, and submitted two photos.

One photo yields Sonia Braga, Andie McDowell, and Gina Gershon as results.

The other gives me Lacey Chabert, Brigitte Bardot and Geri Halliwell.

I've been told by multiple, actually real people that I look like Lauren Ambrose from Six Feet Under and Sherry Stringfield from ER.

Now I'm having an identity crisis. I know I'm glamorous, but I just can't look like all these celebrities. It's too much work.

So I'm asking you to pick one celebrity for me to look like, and I'll do my best to resemble only that person from here on in.

Thank you for your assistance.

JEWISH EDITOR PRESENTS "GIFT" TO TERRORIST GROUP

SPECIAL TO MY URBAN KVETCH—New York, August 2, 2004—In what is possibly the first incident of gift-giving by a Jewess to a terrorist group, it was announced today that an anonymous New York area writer/editor has bought al-Qaeda a “u.”

“I know other editors have been troubled by the visual esthetic of the name al-Qaeda,” the wordsmith, who insisted on anonymity for fear of criticism from the Jewish community, said today in an exclusive interview, "but no one is doing anything about it. In newsrooms, magazine offices and freelancers’ studio apartments, this lack of ‘u’ continues to terrorize us as we type the name of this dreadful organization. Strictly speaking, the transliteration of the Arabic may not require a ‘u’ after ‘q’s, as we do in English. But this deviation is distracting, and trains our eyes to be misled by other words containing ‘q’s without accompanying ‘u’s. And if we start making mistakes in other words, then the terrorists win,” she spoke passionately. “Besides, adding a ‘u’ protects American youth, who are taught that the ‘q’ is followed by a ‘u.’ As far as our language is concerned, this change is a matter of homeland security.”

Answering concerns that the addition of this letter might confuse the military team that is searching for bin Laden and his band of scraggly men, the writer/editor said colorfully, “Look, I know people may think this is a radical move. If the American public objects, I’m willing to consider buying al-Qaeda a ‘k’ to be used in place of their renegade ‘q,’ so they won’t need a ‘u.’ I want the [plural f-bomb expletive deleted] caught. But ‘al-Quaeda’ or ‘al-Kaeda,’ I’m just an editor. My words are my weapons. This is the best I can do.”

JEWISH LIFE MEETS "THE REAL WORLD"

What happens when Jews stop being polite, and start being real.

An article in the Forward reports that two Canadians have decided to create a (13-part) reality show that features the life of a Jewish family going through the various milestones on the Jewish calendar. Titled "The Mazal Tov Chronicles," the show will be a depiction of traditional Jewish life. But what those traditions will be and how they will be displayed is going to be the tricky part:

"The challenge is to find a family that would agree to break the rules that they are trying to observe in order to educate the public," Leipnik [the producer] explained.

Oooh. That is a challenge. You have to find people who are knowledgeable about Judaism, traditional in their observance, with personality and humor, conflict and sensitivity, and who are willing to be a little less observant so that the cameras can be present to record observance in the name of education.

If this family also has a single son in his thirties, my dating search is over.

HEY, I WONDER WHEN JON STEWART IS GOING TO BE ON TV THIS WEEK...

Now I don't have to wonder anymore. This new search engine tells me everything I need to know about my favorite stars' TV appearances this week.

Whose performances are you looking for this week?

MTV AWARDS--NO KABBALAH WEDDING

Darnit. I was really hoping for Britney and Kevin to wed onstage at the VMAs this year. Instead, we got Olsen twins wearing sackcloth, Flaming Lips singer Wayne Coyne channeling his inner bubble boy, and Jessica Simpson making her usual weird singing faces and this time adding a squeaky, yet nasal, non-resonant quality to her voice that made her sound like Britney. She performed the first of her two songs aloft, sitting in a ring that was suspended over the crowd. Even though she was singing the whole time, I thought I saw fear in her eyes. Maybe that accounts for the less-than-stellar vocal quality.

Best musical performance (and the only one I saw) was Nelly and Christina. That girl's trashy, but man, can she sing. And for some reason, I totally love me some Nelly*. Always have. I just think he's terrific at turning the phrases into grooves that you can't stop. Add him to the soundtrack of all our vacations, wherever they are.

*You'd think his adding r's to words would offend me as an editor. But for some reason it doesn't. "Hot in Here" becomes "Hot in Herre." And I'm fine with that.

LAURA BRANIGAN

Sad news this morning: Laura Branigan, the pop singer best known for "Gloria," died of an apparent brain aneurysm at the age of 47.

You may also know her hits "Self-Control" (I walk among the creatures of the night/I haven't got the will to try and fight...); "Solitaire" (Solitaire--see what it's like now/Solitaire--to cry all night now/Solitaire--see how it feels to play...); and "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You," which Michael Bolton (Branigan's co-writer on the song) rerecorded when no one asked him to.

On a personal note: "Gloria" was the centerpiece of my bat mitzvah mix tape, which also included "Celebration" by Kool & the Gang, and "Flashdance: What a Feeling." Part of the soundtrack to my childhood, truly.

INTERNET TURNS 35

NOT-QUITE-FRIAR'S CLUB ROAST OF THE INTERNET
(TRANSCRIPT EXCERPT, Esther Kustanowitz, presenter)

Thank you very much, everyone. It's my honor to be here!

Internet...if you look around, you'll see that many of us turned out to celebrate this special day with you. I guess Google works after all!

[laughter]

Let's face it, folks--puberty sucks, even for an information superhighway! In fact, when it first started, the Internet was no superhighway, it was a cul de sac.

In the early days, you weren't much to look at, either. I'm not saying you were ugly, but when those first two computers were linked to each other using a heavy gray cable, it was little better than trying to communicate through two paper cups connected by a string!

[laughter]

We never dreamed then that you would be revised, streamlined, rebuilt and even reinvented by an almost-President of the United States. Nor did we ever believe that we'd ever be able to track miscreants and misanthropes, ex-students and ex-boyfriends, order celebrity merchandise and stalk celebrities, under your supervision and with your assistance.

[applause--many stand in tribute]

I know everyone in this room owes you a debt of gratitude, for the endless cache of information and for being the ultimate information service provider.

[applause]

Or, in short: Thanks for all the porn.

[laughter and knee-slapping]

But seriously, I know you've accomplished much in your life, and my pride in you can best be expressed in song:

[sings a la Marilyn Monroe]
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday, Mr. Internet...
I'M STILL YOUNGER THAN YOU...

[crowd erupts in gasping peals of laughter]

That's right! I'm younger, and I always will be!! Thank you, and good night!

ABOUT LAST NIGHT*

This blog is not known for its “what I did last night” posts. My Urban Kvetch tends to be “less diary, more soapbox/comedy club.” Which I’m fine with, don’t get me wrong. But last night I went somewhere really interesting, both in the physical and metaphysical sense.

If you’re networked into this whole NYC blogger community, you may know that Candace was in town for a few days, and that Karol gathered the NY bloghorde to pay homage to the visitor and the tremendous hybrid of balance and style that allows her to walk in her fabu shoes. We went to Fashion 40, a lounge so swanky that the website tells you almost nothing about what’s available to eat or drink, and where the drinks menu was encased in bronze, and featured such options as a bottle of liquor for your table for 200 or 300 bucks. (Naturally, I bought each person a bottle.**) It was like being at those clubs in the Hamptons***, but it was in Times Square, nestled on a side street around the corner from tourist trap central. Turn the corner, walk away from the neon lights and pedestrian din, toward the mellow, dimmed lounge lighting and pulsing music of Fashion 40. It’s another world.

Arriving at 9pm, we had the run of the upstairs to ourselves. Blogmania. Walking in, I recognized several folks and met others. Dawn Summers, who I’ve been dying to meet since I missed her birthday party last month, and who generously bought the early birds a round of drinks. Steve Silver and Ken Wheaton, who I’ve been reading for a long time, and of course the guest of honor, our Candy Girl. Met girl-without-a-blog Vanessa, and petitedov, who's just back from the Holy Land, Blessed Be It. Good to see my other girls, Lisa, Jessica and Ari, as always. In particular, I missed Deb (my Sunday buddy) and the eminently plagiarizable Fish (who was apparently elsewhere) , and would have felt the same about C and Dahl had I not met them by Madison Square Park’s Shake Shack for a lovely picnic lunch.

At one point I looked around and thought to myself: Who are these people in this place? These people are strangers. But I know them.

Around 10:45, I had to tear myself away. I had to go back to the Upper West Side to see a guy about a thing. On the train, I made a few notes.

I admire them for the strength of their convictions, their optimism, talent, generosity, spirit, commitment, ability to use their drive and skills to make concrete connections between their present and their future, their power to use their words to transition their dreams into reality.

An hour later, having found neither the guy nor the thing, I was home, wishing I had stayed in the crowded, noisy Fashion 40 lounge, debating the lyrical merits of OutKast’s “Roses,” and feeling a little like a celebrity, among my peers.


* No Brat Packers were harmed during the creation of this post.

**Note to my landlord, who's concerned I might not make rent, there is no inherent truth in this sentence.

*** Not that the Urban Kvetch Bloggerette has often been to those Hampton clubs. Ever since her spat with Paris Hilton over whether Tinkerbell was a rat or a dog which resulted in Lizzie trying to back her over with her RangeRover, the UKB has been keeping a low profile on the NYC lounge scene, wearing comfortable shoes and restricting her nightlife to local Upper West Side watering holes and apartment parties.

FULL FRONTAL ASSAULT

I know I'm going to get in trouble for this with some of my more Republican blogger friends, but what the heck. (After that headline, I surely deserve trouble of some sort.)

Naked Guys Sing, But Not For Republicans

I don't think anyone in NY has been scandalized by this show in years. This is New York, after all. We thrive on the edgy, the liberal, and often, the naked. But even if you're not from around these here parts, there's no way you can buy your ticket to this musical and say "Gasp! I had no idea what this show was about!" It tells you what you're gonna get right [ahem...] up front.

If there's one thing I've learned through my blog connections, it's that, Yes Virginia, there are likable, non-evangelist, non-evil Republicans. But stories like this make it seem like all Republicans fear any kind of liberal expression, be it artistic or political.

I'm not saying visiting elephants should HAVE to go to NBS, any more than they should have to go to the Museum of Sex, or even the Metropolitan Museum of Art, for that matter. I'm just saying, let them decide for themselves.

It's like that scene in Monty Python's Life of Brian, when the crowd is gathered outside Brian's house, and he's shouting, "You don't have to follow a leader! You are all individuals!" The crowd chants back in perfect unison, "Yes, we are all individuals!" (Brilliance.) And then a small voice pipes up: "I'm not." That guy, the dissenting voice in the crowd, who in his singular dissent indicates that he is not his own person, I somehow think he's the one going to see Naked Boys Singing, even if it's not on the list of approved (and therefore discounted) NYC attractions.

So in the interim, I'm filing this New York Times article under "Let Each Republican Decide What He Or She Wants To Do or See in New York City." Either that, or "I Bet the Naked Boys Are Too Sad About Not Performing for Republicans to Be Singing."

Plus, I'd like to offer this additional list of things that the visiting, sensitive Republican may wish to steer away from:

• Times Square--Though cleaner than it used to be, ostentatious Lion King heads, brewery billboards and wax statues of Whoopi Goldberg may cause alarm reaction in certain Republicans.

• Jennifer Love Hewitt--Firstly, there's that love right in the middle of her name--she should be waiting for marriage. Secondly, her song "Bare Naked" was an affront to family values, in addition to rhyme and music.
  
• That Guy Near the Subway Who Sells the Booklet of 200 Sexual Positions for $2.00
  
• The Subway Itself--The subway system shuttles many people of many ethnicities, proclivities, nationalities, and levels of cleanliness underneath this fair city. Best to avoid such direct contact, or at least use Purell before and after exposure.
  
• The Upper West Side--If they're looking for a few good bagels or a nice piece of Nova, a few stragglers may make it up to Zabar's. But somehow, I doubt my neighborhood's getting many Republican tourists. Unless some of them need a minyan.
  
• Riverside, Central, Washington Square and Madison Square Parks--Partly grassy, with a strong chance of hippies.

Too bad they missed the East Village Howl Festival... Wigstock and the Republican National Convention seem like such a natural match.

SEPARATE WAYS

"Separate Ways" was the original title to this article, my latest Jewish Week column, about how it feels for a single person to attend weddings where there is or isn't separate seating*. The new title is "Separation Anxiety," which is better in some ways. But it is not in any way evocative of the classic Journey video of the same name (in which Steve Perry's hair is all feathery, and the band's instruments are constantly disappearing and reappearing...good times...).



*For those who have not been to many religious Jewish weddings, I append this explanation: In Orthodox circles, seating in the synagogue is separate, with a men's section and a women's section that is sectioned off by a divider, called a mechitzah. Some Orthodox weddings insist that the men and women also sit apart for the ceremony, even though it is not, strictly speaking, a prayer service and often does not take place in a synagogue. (That is all. You may read the article now...)

DEAR DIARY

Dear Diary,

I can't believe it. It finally happened! After months of hoping that people were listening, I have the affirmation I've needed.

I am finally a genre.

And in related news, last night's fortune cookie read: "Your success will astonish everyone."

It's like something deep within me has finally been freed...on breezy late summer nights, I feel the wind whisper, through my hair, a greater, more essential truth than any I've ever known.

Success exists, it says. The future awaits. Which I interpret as "Book Contract To Come."

"OH GOD!" SHE'S FUNNY

I love Ellen Degeneres. I truly do. I've even been working on a humor article about how much I love her (if only she were Jewish...just kidding, mom and dad...) that is intended as a companion piece to my "Comedic Timing" article the Jewish Journal printed last summer. (Who knows if it will ever see the light of day anywhere. But I can always print it here, and when it's ready, I just may do that...)

But seriously, Ellen's hilarious. As women comedians go, she's pretty much God. Literally.

In fresh news I just found online, it was announced that Ellen's starring in the remake of "Oh God!", a movie that was watched repeatedly by Kustanowitz children throughout our youth, and in fact, may have been the formation of my "let's all get along/we are all children of God" theology.

This casting is also good for the media, because all the magazines need to do is take all the covers featuring Ellen from several years ago, which were titled "I'm Gay!", and replace those header words with "I'm God!" Only a two-letter difference, you see. Very good for typesetters.

Now, Ellen's no George Burns. Which is probably a good thing. Kids today don't relate to the cigar-chomping comedian. In this day and age, God might go over better as a hilarious lesbian with her own talk show. Of course, we haven't heard from the Religious Right yet, and I venture to say that this news hasn't hit the Republican National Convention yet, either.

You heard it here. Now watch the sparks fly.

LOJACK FOR FRIENDS

It's official. Either I'm psychic, or the world is crumbling. But I'm pretty sure that, in either case, it's not the Republicans' fault.

Last week, I was at a karaoke event at the JCC, where I was rockin' the mic with virtuoso renditions of Pat Benatar songs and moonlighting on other people's renditions of "I Got You Babe" and "The Banana Boat Song." I re-met someone I had originally met in March at the UJC Conference. "Now, I'm sure I'll see you everywhere!" I laughed.

The next day, I'm on line for pizza at Hot and Crusty, despite the disgust I feel having to pronounce those two words in a comestible context. There he was again, a breathing incarnation of my premonitive powers. "You see? I told you," I said. "But what would really be helpful to me is if you'd implant some sort of subdermal tracking device, so I could have your location beamed to me. It would make stalking you so much easier," I joked. "I'm looking into getting a GPS," he parried.

Tonight, my friend Brendan sent me an email telling me he "wasn't stalking me, yet..." and suggesting that I check out this website. Apparently, there is a Global Positioning System for people. If you and your friends register with them, all you have to do is text message your position to the site, and the site will let you know, via message to your cellphone, who among your friends is in a ten-block radius.

Call it Lojack for friends, or Friendster with legs. Or, the end of the world.

PLAY MISTY FOR ME

Giving AWOL a new definition, the Alcohol Without Liquid* machine converts your favorite alcoholic libation into a breathable mist. Pour a shot into the diffuser capsule, which connects to a pipe. Oxygen is pumped through it, absorbing the alchohol and creating a vapor, which you suck through a tube and inhale. It's apparently huge with British clubgoers, but it sounds like an import of the bong lifestyle into mainstream watering holes. (This story via The Morning News.)

This machine is debuting tonight at the Trust Lounge in the meatpacking district, but may actually be illegal. NY authorities are investigating this and are concerned that it may make getting drunk look even cooler.

Why I'm sticking with liquid alcohol

• Dehydration fears mandate the ingestion of liquids
• Sticky summer nights still require the mitzvah of frozen margaritas
• AWOL machine further enables the metaphor of alcoholics saying, "I need it...it's like the air that I breathe..."
• In New York bar scene, it is more socially acceptable to wield a martini glass than an oxygenating machine
• Sipping a drink is sexier than gasping at the contents of a tube (although I'm sure some will disagree with me on this one...)
• AWOL machine not yet available as beamable program/attachment for my Palm
• AWOL machine does not fit in hip new Ferragamo** clutch
• Friday night dinners will not be the same without Rashi's Moscato D'Asti for kiddush
• POINTS value of alcohol mist is yet to be determined

*Semantics--I would argue that the proper acronym for Alcohol without Liquid is A.W.L. Invocation of the previous definition of AWOL lends the new product an aura of desertion and rebellion, which is maybe what was intended...

**Who'm I kidding? As if I own a Ferragamo clutch...

150!!

I'm at 150 posts! Amazing. Who knew I had so much to say? Actually, pretty much everyone.

My stats right now?

Over 5100 page views.
An average of 6 posts per week (factoring in a Day of Rest, this means about one post daily...)
My Blogger Profile's been viewed over 1000 times.
Including my other blogs, I've writtten over 51,000 words.

I've made three new IM friends, met about a dozen new friends in real life, and formed connections with at least a dozen others who I'd love to meet someday.

I'll do another site-in-review post when I reach my bicentennial post. (That's 200. Actually, I think a bicentennial refers to years, not blog posts, but work with me, people.)

Thanks to the fans, and to God, without whom the Internet* would not be possible.


*Apologies to Al Gore.

STREAKOGRAPHY

Ron Bensimhon--Behind the Streaker

A Google search for "Ron Bensimhon" reveals the following "Streakography":

• Had the words "Golden Palace.com" tattooed across his chest, in an effort to show the online casino how effective a promoter he is
• Interrupted Michelle Kwan at World Figure Skating Championships in March by slipping on a pair of skates and heading out onto the ice in a yellow tutu
• Upgraded to much more manly blue tutu for interruption of the 2004 Olympic Men’s Synchronized 3M Springboard Finals on August 16
• At said Springboard Finals, belly-flopped off the diving board wearing said blue tutu and proceeded to mock synchronized swimming
• Is the streaking successor/heir apparent of previous GoldenPalace.com streaker Mark Roberts, who made streaking history at the Super Bowl
• Appears to be the twelfth streaker who has advertised the online casino, although the site says this stunt wasn't their idea
• Is 31 and hails from Montreal, Canada
• May or may not be Israeli (although the name seems like he is...) which would make the second time this month that an Israeli makes major news (see also Golan Cipel)
• According to an online site, is also the "contact person in Montreal for cat and dog product"

For pix of the fabu stunt and its predecessors, see my new friends at Standard Deviance.

In all of the reports, there's no mention of a wife or girlfriend. Now how can that be??

ON HUMAN BILLBOARDS AND DANGEROUS TUTUS

Remember that shirtless guy who ran across the stage at the 1998 Grammys--upstaging the dour-but-talented Artist formerly known as Robert Zimmerman*--and on his chest was written "Soy Bomb"?

That guy, and the Soy Bomb mission**, was weird enough. But here's a story from one of my daily e-subscriptions, Cynopsis.com:

Perhaps you were watching the synchronized diving event the other evening on television, and heard the commentators talking about a spectator jumping up on the platform and diving into the pool while wearing a tutu. Seems this spectator was Canada's own 'human billboard' - that is a guy who shows up places, strips down to reveal the name of a casino website address painted on his chest. For this particular event, the man, Ron Bensimhon, 31, of Montreal, was wearing a blue knee length tutu, polka dot leggings, oversized clown shoes and a url address as he dove off the board and into the pool. He was promptly arrested and charged with the Greek crime of interrupting a sporting event in progress. Meanwhile, Olympic security has been pumped up to avoid such distractions, including deploying an arsenal of undercover security people at all the venues. And in any case, as pointed out by the Athens security liaison, 'there is no security device in the world that will detect a tutu.'

Oh, but what if there were? What a glorious world that would be. Tutu detection is an issue that the social indignant within us all should embrace. I mean, if we allow tutus to roam free in this world, what will be our fate? Will we all be forced to develop the necessary dancers' calves and quads? Will we pirouette to work, accompanied by classical music? Remember, if we don't develop the technology to guard our society against tutus, the terrorists win.

*That's Bob Dylan, kids.
**The Soy Bomb mission calls for the eradication of cheese. Not, as Monty Python would have said, "makers of all dairy products," but solely cheese. For more of this insanity, check their website.

EIGHT REASONS

8 Reasons Why I Should Be a Talking Head on "VH1's Best Week Ever"

1. I have an excellent, well-proportioned head.
2. Decades of intensive study of pop culture have cultivated a mind full of classic movie quotes from Star Wars to Sixteen Candles.
3. Excellent sense of humor and NYC improv experience has yielded remarkable writing skills and ability to entertain at parties.
4. I have interviewed such pop culture icons as Cindy Chupack and Adam Mesh.
5. I'm a legacy: My parents and brother have already been on VH1 (50 Most Awesomely Bad Videos) and now it's my turn.
6. I have already worked in the MTV nerve center at 1515 Broadway.
7. My column in the New York Jewish Week has increased readership by 15 million subscribers.
8. I know how to use exaggeration to my advantage. (See #7.)

DARKNESS VISIBLE

Darkness Visible, my new Jewish Week singles column, is now available online. It's a little different in tone, a little more personal..."one woman's" tale of a spiritual and city-wide blackout, about a year ago.

GOOD NEWS...

This just in, good news for Superfreelancer...

My Jewish Week column, First Person Singular, is now going to be running every other week, instead of every fourth week. That means twice as many pieces on living single and Jewish in NYC. And that, in turn, means that I will probably find a boyfriend tomorrow, and be rendered so immobile with happiness that I'll be unable to muster the energy, let alone the creativity, to come up with topics of interest to singles.

OK, it's a bit of an exaggeration (there's no boyfriend on the horizon, and I've still got about a dozen ideas in the creative hopper). But still, I need your help.

I'm putting together a dating questionnaire that I hope some people will consider filling out and sending back to me. If you'd like a survey sent to you, please email me and I'll add you to the list of people who are guaranteed* to go to Heaven for helping me. Thank you!


*Not a guarantee.

UNSENT

This is a letter to the editors of Entertainment Weekly that I wrote back in May, saved to a folder and promptly forgot about. So I resurrect it for you, gentle readers.

Dear Editor,

"Mazel Toddler," a piece about the clothing lines for Jewish newborns, quotes the creator of the "Bris Kit" as saying that the original prototype for the diaper was "embroidered with a Hebrew blessing, [but] the Orthodox community didn't want the word God anywhere near the butt."

My 30-something chick-flick trained brain knew that this was life imitating art: "They don't make Sunday." "Why?" "Because of God." (All you Harrys and Sallys out there know where I'm coming from.)

B-L-O-G spells U-N-I-T-Y, maybe

Finally, the "news" that may unite Democrat and Republican bloggers alike. George W.'s blog has been discovered by White House authorities, "reports" The Onion:

WASHINGTON, DC—In the interest of national security, President Bush has been asked to stop posting entries on his three-month-old personal web log, acting CIA director John E. McLaughlin said Monday... Bush said he could not understand McLaughlin's anger, characterizing his blog as a "personal thing written for friends and family or whoever" and therefore "none of the CIA's business."

The picture alone is totally precious. And click on the sample blog page for a larger, readable version. The story tickled me on a tired Tuesday morning.

MADONNEWS CENTER UPDATE 2

Guess Who's Coming to (Rosh Hashanah) Dinner?

Ha'aretz reporter Sarah Bronson reports that the L.A.-based Kabbalah Center has booked 950 rooms and a huge ballroom to serve as a synagogue at the Tel Aviv Intercontinental Hotel and the Dan Panorama Hotel from September 15-26.

Dude, Where's My Blonde Ambition and Boy Toy-Loving Actress?

While there was no confirmation that Madonna, Demi and Ashton would be among the 2,000 tourists expected on the tour, it was confirmed that the group would include fashion designer Donna Karan and whatever-she-is-now Marla Maples.

Like an Orthodox Prayer

Yes, Madonna--there is a mechitzah (partition between the men and women during a prayer service). Prayer services for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur will "be conducted with all the trappings of Orthodox Jewish practice" but with added opportunities for reflection and meditation, as well as ongoing explanations of each ritual, like the blowing of the chauffeur. (Oops, I meant "shofar"...)

Of course, if this were a real Orthodox-sponsored program, women wouldn't be allowed anywhere near the Kabbalah and men under a certain age without children would be similarly dissuaded from mystical study.

Forgives Like Chicken

The article further notes that the group does plan to do "kaparos" while it is there. For those of you who have never witnessed the ritual, it "symbolize(s) the removal of sin from oneself and inspire(s) inner reflection and repentance." The traditional kaparos ritual involves the swinging of a live chicken in a circle over your head as you recite the words. I only witnessed this once, and it was enough for me, as it ends in the beheading of the chicken, which (it's true), does continue to move after it has been decapitated, and giving it to the poor for food. An alternate form of the ritual calls for you to swing money over your head in place of the avian, and give the money to charity. In either case, the important thing is the reflection, the repentance, and the giving to charitable causes.

To the staff* at My Urban Kvetch, kaparos for 2,000 Kabbalah followers in Tel Aviv seems an overwhelmingly appropriate metaphor for what we know about the Kabbalah Center movement and their ability to influence otherwise intelligent people** to run around like chickens right after their heads have been removed from their bodies.

Plus, it means 2,000 less chickens at Tel Aviv branches of KFC.

* My Urban Kvetch staff consists of Me, Myself, and I.
**Argue all you want about Britney's capacity for intelligent discourse. But Ashton studied electrical engineering before he became a model/actor. And say what you want about the former Material Girl, but Madge is one smart businesswoman--she's a strategist, above all else, and that she's been with Kabbalah so long is either the smartest reinvention yet, or a truly lobotomizing experience.

SPAM-ALOT! THE MONTY PYTHON MUSICAL

("I like to push the pram alot...")

Casting is underway for SPAM-ALOT!, the Monty Python Musical, which plays a limited engagement in Chicago through January. Previews in NYC begin in February 2005 for a March 10 opening, so start saving your buckage now. Undoubtedly, tickets will cost upwards of $100, so if you save a dollar a day, you should be able to snag a seat...

Jay reports the following roles have been cast:
Sir Lancelot Agador Spartacus Wiggum...Hank Azaria
Arthur, the Sweet Transvestite King of the Britons...Tim Curry
Brave, Brave Neurotic Sir Doctor Niles Robin Crane...David Hyde Pierce

Complete info here.

THE NEED FOR SPEED...IN C-MAJOR

Finally, a musical meant to Take My Breath Away...

C-Major Maverick? Goose in G? Yessir, ladies and gentlemen, the New York Musical Festival proudly presents Toronto's newest show: Top Gun, the Musical. (Paging Rick Rossovich...)

It's the story of a writer, who crashed and burned with his previous musical, Apocalypse Wow, and needs to make his next musical a hit. Undoubtedly, he encounters all sorts of impediments and MACH-3 power ballads along the way.

(Fish is going to love this, I know. I'm not sure about whether or not there's a "Playing with the Boys" volleyball scene, but I can only hope for yes. And no, I don't think Tom Skerritt is involved.)

Anyone want to go? Most admissions are $15, but if you want to become a sponsor, several levels are available... more info here.

I'm such a fan of the idea of this festival that I think I'm going to become an "entry-level" sponsor. I so want to write a musical. Maybe I'll make that my 2005 project. Collaborators welcome, especially since I don't read or necessarily write music.

See you in the Dangerzone, kids!!

RANDOM LYRIC

Y'know what a mondegreen is? It's one of those song lyrics that is constantly misheard. Like "Scuse me, while I kiss this guy," or "Hold me closer, Tony Danza..."

Y'know that Maroon 5 song, "Harder to Breathe?"

The first line, really:
"So you say that my behavior's unacceptable..."

What I hear, every time the song plays even though I actually know the real lyric:
"So you say that my bikini's in the Superbowl..."

Is this a new strain of PTSD, presenting in those of us who witnessed Janet Jackson's, ahem, appearance, at last year's Superbowl? I think the CDC needs to investigate this.

FREE HUGS AND RESUMES ON THE TRAIN

Just read this piece in the New York Observer called "White Collar Beggar." It's about Jayson Littman, a guy who runs a free hugs booth every Sunday in Washington Square Park, where he gives out hugs to strangers, and during the week, travels the subway, going from car to car handing out copies of his resume, hoping someone can hook him up with a job.

Madd props to Jayson, a networker who's taking his job search to the streets. Of course, if you read the article, it also talks about how his boss has sort of found out that he's looking for a new job...but still, Jayson, good job with the looking for a good job. You've found a captive audience and a mass market all in one! Best of luck, dude.

UHMIGAWD...

Someone else had my idea. Alert the media, because apparently, the Urban Kvetch concept's gone retail. I'm a T-shirt.

BLOGCRUSH GROOVE: ELECTRONIC BLOGALOO

Yeah, I'm not sure what that header means.

Have you ever had a Blogcrush? (See Bloghead for some explanations of what this might entail.)

Have you ever fallen in love with someone through their writing? (Obviously, this happens to me all the time, and is the likely explanation for why my number of blog visitors continues to rise and the number of comments continues to fall--my blogcrushers are intimidated by my blend of wit and wisdom, and are afraid to approach me...I assume this is also true in real life...)

Have you ever transitioned a Blogcrush into a relationship? Was it all it was blogged up to be, or did you encounter disappointment? If your Blogrelationship thrived, did you blog about it, or did you keep it between the two of you? And when Blogcrushes go bad and split up, do the readers suffer?

I'm curious about this phenomenon. If you have stories, please pass them on, via comments or email. Who knows--you could end up as part of a future column, or just as entertainment before Queen Esther. Either, a noble purpose. Please, share.

WHO DO I LOOK LIKE?

I tried this star estimator, and submitted two photos.

One photo yields Sonia Braga, Andie McDowell, and Gina Gershon as results.

The other gives me Lacey Chabert, Brigitte Bardot and Geri Halliwell.

I've been told by multiple, actually real people that I look like Lauren Ambrose from Six Feet Under and Sherry Stringfield from ER.

Now I'm having an identity crisis. I know I'm glamorous, but I just can't look like all these celebrities. It's too much work.

So I'm asking you to pick one celebrity for me to look like, and I'll do my best to resemble only that person from here on in.

Thank you for your assistance.

JEWISH EDITOR PRESENTS "GIFT" TO TERRORIST GROUP

SPECIAL TO MY URBAN KVETCH—New York, August 2, 2004—In what is possibly the first incident of gift-giving by a Jewess to a terrorist group, it was announced today that an anonymous New York area writer/editor has bought al-Qaeda a “u.”

“I know other editors have been troubled by the visual esthetic of the name al-Qaeda,” the wordsmith, who insisted on anonymity for fear of criticism from the Jewish community, said today in an exclusive interview, "but no one is doing anything about it. In newsrooms, magazine offices and freelancers’ studio apartments, this lack of ‘u’ continues to terrorize us as we type the name of this dreadful organization. Strictly speaking, the transliteration of the Arabic may not require a ‘u’ after ‘q’s, as we do in English. But this deviation is distracting, and trains our eyes to be misled by other words containing ‘q’s without accompanying ‘u’s. And if we start making mistakes in other words, then the terrorists win,” she spoke passionately. “Besides, adding a ‘u’ protects American youth, who are taught that the ‘q’ is followed by a ‘u.’ As far as our language is concerned, this change is a matter of homeland security.”

Answering concerns that the addition of this letter might confuse the military team that is searching for bin Laden and his band of scraggly men, the writer/editor said colorfully, “Look, I know people may think this is a radical move. If the American public objects, I’m willing to consider buying al-Qaeda a ‘k’ to be used in place of their renegade ‘q,’ so they won’t need a ‘u.’ I want the [plural f-bomb expletive deleted] caught. But ‘al-Quaeda’ or ‘al-Kaeda,’ I’m just an editor. My words are my weapons. This is the best I can do.”