Today is the first full day of Rosh Hashanah, which means that I just spent 4 hours thanking God for everything he has given me in the past year (followed, of course, by a large and delicious meal). While in synogogue, I thanked the Big Guy upstairs for my family, my friends, my education and the fact that my money is still safe in a bank somewhere.

I also thanked him for my wonderful job, my great hair and the awesome deal I got on that green pashmina I wore to services.

I thought I covered it all until I got home and realized I left a major “Thank You, GOD” out: a hearty thank you for all the super hot Jews in Hollywood. And for the DVR that allows me to record them, the iPod that allows me to hear them and the vivid dreams that allow me to…er…interact with them.

It doesn’t matter if you are Jewish, Christian, Hindu, or Agnostic; I think we all owe someone a giant thank you for these boys. (Click on the pic for more delicious pics!) Read More »

Hangovers blow.  Depending on how much you drink the night before, they can either blow just a little, or blow so hard they put Gustav to shame.  Hangovers also make most of us decide we will never drink again — at least until they’re giving out free shots with a school ID at our favorite local college bar.

The third thing hangovers do?  Propel us toward every unhealthy food that has ever been invented.

Read More »

Last week, it was revealed that one of our editors was slowly turning into her mother (gasp!). There was a lot of screaming, many tears and, finally, the acceptance that maybe we all had a little mama in us. It was bound to happen at some point - no matter how many times we told our friends to kill us when we started shhh-ing kids in movie theaters.

Sure, our mothers are great; they created us, afterall. But, there are still some awful habits we seem to be inheriting that are less than desired. This week, the CollegeCandy writers weigh in on the motherly habits creeping into their lives.

Devon - UCLA: I have to admit, I proactively try to not be my mother. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m talking to myself out loud more and more these days…..UGH! DNA

Sara - NYU: I am slowly but surely developing a Bronx Jewish accent. I am thoroughly f*cked.

Carly - Grinnell: I cannot stop giving other people food when they come over to my apartment. I will offer them cookies, muffins, tea, chocolate, full meals–anything! If they don’t accept, I feel inadequate.

Kari – Florida State: I work at a daycare and cringe every five minutes at the things that come out of my mouth. “I don’t care who started it, but I’m here to finish it!” and “Sharing is caring” are some choice picks straight out of my Mom’s vocab. Read More »

Yesterday some guy followed me up the stairs on a subway transfer (that it turned out he wasn’t taking, just creepily following me like a creepy creep creep) and after the requisite come-on line (which I won’t burn your retinas with), he instantly whips out the line I’ve grown so accustomed to hearing: “What’s your heritage?”

Here’s what I don’t understand (well, here’s one of many, many, many things I don’t understand):

Why does every guy in New York who approaches me want to know my ethnicity?

And I’m serious about this. Because, look. I live in New York City. There are more Jews (such as moi) here than like everywhere ever. I should not be so unidentifiable.

For me, there are two varieties of these guys. The guy cited above fits into the first category: guys who guess. And they always guess Italian, Puerto Rican, or Greek. Seriously. And I am pale like the squishy underbelly of a cabbage.

The other category of guys are guys who want to know if I’m Jewish. These guys are usually Muslim or Israeli and nothing in between. I don’t know why either group bothers–I’m too Jewish for the Muslims and not Jewish enough for the Israelis. So it goes.

And why, friends, why oh why for the love of all that is good and not annoying, why do they need to know my heritage in the first place? When did this become an acceptable thing to ask a stranger? Read More »

Basically, I ran out of things to eat.

Yeah, yeah, it shouldn’t be that hard. But somehow nothing seems quite satisfying enough, quite interesting enough when I have to think so hard about my food.

I am not the kind of girl who diets. In fact, I’ve never been on a diet in my entire life (excluding this “Passover diet” that I go on every year for a week). And I’ll tell you, I don’t like it. If I had to be so careful about what I ate all the time, I would definitely be a much bigger bitch.

Which is really making me a better person. Because now when someone is rude to me on the train, I can think, “oh, they must be on a diet,” and let it go. Thanks, Passover!

In any event, the last couple of days were annoying. I missed out on free Beard Papa cream puffs, on free cookies, on going out to (not free, but still) pizza with friends, etc. etc.

I ate Pinkberry frozen yogurt for lunch one day when I was in a rush and couldn’t think of anything else that was fast.

I was not always nice to my boyfriend. Read More »

Basically, I’m hungry and fatigued. And I want to eat bread.

I wake up and I eat matzoh.

Then I go about my daily day (see?! I can’t even think of a better way to say this!) and find something I can eat for lunch (surprisingly difficult even in lower manhattan).

Then I’m cranky at people until dinner, at which point I am tired of trying to think of what to eat and end up having a fudgesicle.

Actually, I think I might be losing weight, but only because eating has become so calculated and joyless that it’s not even worth it.

I mean, this is not a big deal. I can’t have bread. To channel my grandmother for a moment, this should be the worst thing that happens to me. Read More »

I should probably point out that I am crappy Jew and, even in not eating chametz (leavened bread), I’m not actually keeping Kosher for Passover. There are lots of rules that I suck at and am therefore not doing. Think of me as a Secular Jew. That’s probably the nicest possible term.

Anyway, Day 3. I woke up hungry. I ate leftover lox (with nothing else because I am super gross) and drank coffee. Then I went about my daily business.

I didn’t get a chance to eat again until the early afternoon and by then I was starving, I mean like in a dizzy, light-headed kind of way. Usually I can wait a bunch of hours before eating again. But then again, usually I eat bread.

So I had chicken and broccoli for lunch and felt better but still hungry.

Round it off with an apple and I’m doing really great, right? Actually, maybe I’ll lose weight on this after all. Coincidentally, of course.

Buuuuut then I felt hungry and depraved and ate a whole bunch of chocolate. Twice.

Happy Passover. Hand over the bread.

And oh, what a Day 2 it was.

Well, first of all, last night I went to my parents’ house for a Seder. We went through our Maxwell House Haggadahs like I go through a fresh, steaming cup of Maxwell House coffee.

…Anyway.

I asked my father what the correct pronunciation of “Haggadah” was, because a friend of mine says it “ha-GAH-dah” whereas I have always heard it as “huh-GUH-duh.” I was told that the first way is Hebrew, the second is Yiddish. Go fig. My fam-o is full of the Yiddish. The Hebrew, not so much.

Okay, this no bread thing is making me punchy. Let’s move on to today: Read More »