Chag Samach everyone! And no, that’s not a typo or a drunken slur. It’s how we Jews say “happy holiday” to each other during the high holidays. It’s right up there with our favorite sayings and is only beat out by “daaaddddyyyy” and “what was your Bat Mitzah theme?”

We’re now right in the middle of the Ten Days of Repentance, the week and a half following Rosh Hashanah during which Jews reflect on past sins they’ve committed and ask for forgiveness (kind of like Sunday Confession for you Catholics out there), as well as forgive those who’ve sinned against them (I always have a bit of trouble with this part…like, do I really need to forgive my friend for hooking up with my ex?). These ten days are supposed to prepare us for this weekend’s upcoming holiday, Yom Kippur. Otherwise known in my family as that day where every gets extremely cranky and hostile. Oh and extra bonus: my dad suddenly feels compelled to talk about his decreasing blood sugar every six minutes.

The Deal: Yom Kippur is the holiest day of the Jewish calendar. It’s the day that we ask God for forgiveness and for a good year ahead. Essentially, Jews believe that God decides on Yom Kippur whether or not the upcoming year will be the best ever, a living nightmare, or something in between. So, in hopes of swaying God’s opinion, we repent. We pray, we atone for our sins, we mourn those lost, and we look forward to a better future. It sounds depressing, I know, but it actually ends on an optimistic note and starts with the Kol Nidre service, which is absolutely gorgeous. We’re not allowed to play instruments, but the singing for this particular service is some of the most beautiful of all of our prayers. Unless your chorus has that token loud singer who insists on overshadowing everyone with her tone deaf voice. Like, you’re not Beyonce. You’re Shira Goldberg, head of the Scarsdale PTA.

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Being hungover generally sucks, lets face it. The only place I want to be (and I’m sure this goes for you as well) is in bed, with the blinds closed, watching cheesy made for TV movies and eating my favorite hangover foods.

Unfortunately, my life is not very conducive to being hungover, and forces me to inevitably be anywhere but in bed on those days when I swear off drinking for good. If you’ve ever been hungover, chances are you’ve been forced to be somewhere you absolutely did not want to be at the time. I present the short list of the worst places to be while hungover. Read More »

Passover. Great holiday. Eternal source of existential agony.

I’m Jewish, yes? Well, ethnically, for sure. My family is made up of Jews from Belarus and Romania/Transylvania (suck your blood, blah, blah, vampire joke) who take the culture seriously but the religion…well, not so much.

Supposedly, all sets of my parents’ grandparents were Orthodox, and then their parents (my grandparents) were all Conservative, but my parents, as first and second generation Americans, kind of let that all go. They sent me to Secular Hebrew School for five years, where I learned all about the culture but not the actual religious rites, and that was that.

However, my situation growing up was very different from theirs, and that, of course, made my relationship to Judaism a little more complicated.

My parents were both raised in Jewish neighborhoods in the Bronx. Growing up, they were in the ethnic majority (at least until high school). Being Jewish was just a fact of life.

I grew up in a very Italian- and Irish-American town on Long Island where I was one of about six Jews in my grade. Even though my parents and I barely practiced (every third year or so we’d go to temple for Yom Kippur), Jewishness became a very important part of my identity. As it happened, we lived directly next door to the Catholic church that was attended by about 85% of my classmates. This was a constant source of amusement. Jewish jokes? I was there…and maybe the one making them. Being Jewish made me stand out. So I made it work in my favor. Read More »

The crazyass cult the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (that we first wrote about HERE), a polygamist group that split off from the Mormons, apparently had a bed in their freaking temple.

This bed was used to eff girls under 17 immediately after their marriage to middle-aged men.

The temple in question was on the Eldorado (note: they pronounce it “el-dor-AY-do,” which I find hysterical in that very sad, scary kind of way) Compound in Eldorado, Texas. It was recently raided by the authorities.

And by authorities, I mean the actual legal authorities and not the nutbags who had created this masogynistic society within. Read More »