Going Viral: What Does The Fox Say

Below is a copy of a blog I posted on May 30. And below that is a video that is, well, apparently going viral. If I’d had the video when I originally ran this blog, it would have been perfect. So basically, this is a multimedia do-over. Believe me when I tell you that it is worth watching the entire video; it really should not be missed. No need to thank me, your grateful smiles are all I need.

What Does The Rocket Scientist Say?

My friend visited recently with her adorable little baby.  As I was entertaining the baby while mom went to the restroom I started pointing to the animals on her bib and saying “that’s a lion!” “that’s an elephant,” etc.  And out of sheer habit I asked her what the cow said and then I mooed.  We went through the usual suspects, dog, cat, sheep.

It seems that everyone teaches babies animal sounds, with some urgency, as if they can’t succeed in life if they don’t know that a lion roars.

babymoo

Sure, there is the alphabet and numbers and putting the right shape into the right hole (I still can’t get that one) and a million other things for their sponge-like brains to absorb.  It’s true that animal sounds write over the data in the little crevice in the brain that houses geometry or rocket science or some other useless information.

Is there a better trade-off for valuable brain real estate?  What if parents filled that crevice with useless trivia instead?  Information that will be handy at cocktail parties and pubs.  Imagine asking baby “Who won the Oscar for best actor in 1956?”  or “How many people have climbed Mt. Everest?  How many died trying?”  Now your baby is the best conversationalist in his or her play group.

So enough with silly animal noises.  Moo is so last week.

 

Ylvis – The Fox [Official music video HD] – YouTube.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

Wishing You An Adam Sandler Kind Of Day!

Wow, here it is again, September 11. As I explained last year, that horrible feeling you get from hearing “9/11” is for me tempered by the fact that it is my nephew Craig’s birthday. He is 23 today which makes me…umm…old. I tell you that because even though it’s his birthday, I need to somehow make it about me.

Craig is an extremely funny kid and can usually have me laughing hysterically within 2 minutes of seeing him. And if I had to describe Craig in just one word, it would be affable. He’s just an affable kind of guy.

It doesn’t take much to make Craig happy; but if you say one bad word about Adam Sandler, he will have to (threaten to) kick your ass. So happy happy birthday Craig and this is for you:

Adam Sandler is the most talented actor to ever grace screen or stage. Not just his comedic timing, but his uncanny ability to play one hapless character after another, each with a slightly nuanced performance. And he is never recognized enough for his fine dramatic acting.

To The Academy: It’s time isn’t it? To award Adam Sandler a little gold statuette? The finest actor of our time, and a true Renaissance Man, as evidenced by these quotes:

“I think the reason I don’t read is because, when I’m reading, I feel like I’m missing out on something else. You know, what are my friends doing? Where’s my girlfriend?”

“I often slip into costume as the lead character in whatever bedtime story I am reading. This is a little weird because my daughters love Disney princesses. But you would be surprised at how good I look in a ball gown.”

“I sing seriously to my mom on the phone. To put her to sleep, I have to sing ‘Maria’ from West Side Story. When I hear her snoring, I hang up.”

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments

Did I Mention I Wrote A Book?

This blog is going to be all about my book, When Good Boobs Turn Bad: A Mammoir. I could call it “marketing my personal brand” or “leveraging my platform,” but I’m going to boldly call it exactly what it is, shameless self-promotion. I am shameless—I wrote a frackin’ book! With, like, big words and a theme and things. Not only that-first I had to get through breast cancer just to have a compelling topic!

9780989571500_cov.indd

What, you want me to play the tired cancer card again? Don’t challenge me, because I will whip it out in a heartbeat. I suffered through a major illness…suffered almost as much as everyone else did who had to hear about it. So if you know what’s good for you, you will buy the book, and tell everyone you know to buy the book, and you will tell me repeatedly how much you love the book. Did I mention that it is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Indiebound, and other fine online booksellers? Because I almost certainly mentioned that you can learn more about it at http://jillfoerhirsch.com

I can tell you’re still not convinced, so I’m going to let you in on a little secret. One entire side of my family is populated with seriously excellent, well known authors. Yep, the writing gene runs in my family. Courses through my very veins. So you know how whenever there’s a really amazing restaurant where people have to wait hours to get a table, there’s always a decent restaurant poised and ready to take on the crowds too hungry to wait? That’s me, vis a vis my better known cousins. Sure, I’m not one of the famous Foers, but I’m around, and I’m available, and I try harder because I have to! You guys are a tough crowd.

So, in review:

  1. Buy my book, because it’s really quite good, or prepare to listen to me whine
  2. I had cancer, and yet I’m inviting you to have a laugh about it
  3. The restaurant across the street is now on a two hour wait, and they’ve run out of pagers
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments

There’s A Cereal Killer On The Loose

My friend and her very adorable baby were visiting me recently, and when we get together I always learn something new about the wonderful world of parenting.

This tidbit is worth sharing: my friend’s pediatrician has advised against giving the baby Cheerios. I was dumbfounded. I mean, every parent I’ve ever known gives their kids little plastic containers of Cheerios to carry around at all times. Really, I thought that’s what separated us from the lower primates. Whole grains, little Os, what could be wrong with that?

Bowl-Of-Cereal

So you’re going to love this. The problem with Cheerios, according to my friend’s pediatrician, is that they are a “gateway cereal.” Huh? A “gateway cereal?” Yes, apparently Cheerios are just the starter pack; the introductory level to much more serious and dangerous cereals. So one minute your adorable toddler is shoving handfuls of Cheerios into her mouth, and the next thing you know she’s huffing Count Chocula behind a dumpster in a seedy part of town.

From there it’s just a matter of time until your little sugar junkie will be stealing your car keys and peeling off into the night to do some serious Dairy Queen with her friends. I’m talking about that hard chocolate shell stuff, folks. She’ll need a fix, and she’ll need it bad.

Look, I get it. We’re the most obese country in the world; Americans love their sugary, fatty, processed foods. I myself am an enthusiastic consumer of native food such as M&Ms. But I think the Food Police are getting a little out of hand now. I understand moderation in the sense that I’ve seen other people practice it. I’ve also known people who will eat nothing but organic sheafs of whole wheat washed down with kale juice, and they do it with an annoyingly superior attitude. That’s just as extreme as living on milk chocolate and diet soda, right?

As a country, we’ve been through one nutritional fad after another. When I was a kid, everyone seemed to think margarine was the answer to all our problems. Yep, ditch the butter and pick up the poly-un-re-double-saturated dairy-free oil combined with modern chemicals, and bam! Good to go. Well, it turns out nobody knows what exactly is in margarine, but whatever it is, it ain’t good.

Bread has been bad for us, then good for us, then bad, then good again through countless cycles. Now there’s just a complex set of instructions for finding bread that is really made from whole grains. I can’t keep up with it all, so if it tastes good, I assume it’s bad for me. Eggs too were good, then bad, then good again. We thought for a while that soy was the answer to all our problems, but alas the jury is still out on soy. I enjoy almond milk, so there is no question that will turn out to be bad eventually.

And gluten…when did gluten turn in to something bad? I didn’t get the memo. I like gluten, as far as I know. Isn’t that what makes the tasteless cardboard bread at least chewy? Ultimately none of it matters, because we’re all eating genetically modified mutant food that looks like what we used to eat, but isn’t even close.

But this is it. This is where I draw the line in the sand. At Cheerios. Because if good, honest, hard-working Americans can no longer safely feed their children Cheerios, what’s the point of it all?

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 16 Comments

5774: The Year Of The Gefilte Fish

Pardon me if this looks familiar, but realistically how many Rosh Hashanah posts can I be expected to concoct? It’s enough a’ready. Happy new year!

The Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah, begins at sunset tonight. Jews around the world will welcome year 5774 by eating a huge meal, going to synagogue, and sleeping until someone pokes them.

Rosh Hashanah kicks off the High Holidays, the ten Days of Awe in which Jews pray that the holiday will soon be over.  It is believed that the Book of Life is opened on Rosh Hashanah, and you have ten days to edit your page in the book by erasing all your sins from the prior year.   It’s always good to inscribe yourself with a pencil, to maintain a little flexibility.  This is why sales of no. 2 pencils skyrocket this time of year.

Yom Kippur is the finale and the holiest day of the year; it is when the Book of Life is closed and your destiny is sealed for another year (hopefully).  Jews eat pretty big meals to commemorate all holidays, but the afternoon before Yom Kippur begins at sunset, we eat even more.  This is because you must fast for the next 24 hours.  You’re supposed to be focused on atoning for all your sins, but who can think with a growling stomach?  Taking food away from Jews on Yom Kippur is like taking booze away from the Irish on Christmas.

Some people may confuse the Jewish New Year with the Chinese New Year, and they actually share some of the same traditions.  Chinese New Year kicks off with visits to elderly family members.  Rosh Hashanah starts off by checking in on your elders at the cemetery.

During Chinese New Year single women write their contact info on mandarin oranges and toss them into the river where they are collected by single men.  If the orange is sweet, so is the girl, and if it’s sour, well, she better be really hot.  Jews have a ritual called Tashlich, where we throw bits of bread in a river to symbolically cast off our sins.  It doesn’t matter if the bread’s sweet, sour or stale; the Jew who threw it doesn’t ever want to see it again.

Food traditions are surprisingly similar.  Jews begin many holiday meals with gefilte fish, a kind of jellied fish meatball (not to be confused with a jellyfish meatball, which is a totally different thing).  It’s eaten with horseradish which masks the smell and taste of the fish.  A classic Chinese New Year dish is yusheng, a raw fish salad.  Jews eat big matzoh balls in chicken soup as their second course.  The second course for Chinese New Year is tangyuan, a glutinous rice ball served in soup.

That is where the tradition of the two New Year’s branch off in different directions.  The Chinese New Year is based on 12 animals, dragon, pig, dog, rat, rooster, ox, tiger, snake, horse, goat, monkey and rabbit.  The Jewish New Year is based on synagogue gossip.  For example, Jews say “oy vey has he aged, he looks like a dog” or “that woman is as stubborn as a goat”, and on Yom Kippur, when no one is allowed to brush their teeth, the common greeting is “nice dragon breath you got there.”

The Chinese New Year is celebrated by firecrackers, parades and dragon dances, and children are given “lucky money” in red envelopes.  For Jews, firecrackers just result in everyone complaining they have a migraine, and money talk revolves around how much it costs to buy clothes for the holidays and speculation on whether that ox of a woman Mildred owns any other dress than the one she wears every year.  Kids who engage in a little mishegas (craziness) and stomp around like dragons are immediately reprimanded by an adult, any adult, hissing in their ears like a snake.

Parades?  Not so much; the Jewish commemoration includes ritual self-flagellation while droning on about sins.  Although while not a parade, exactly, the Jews rushing for the food at the end of Yom Kippur services is certainly a spectacle.

Wishing everyone a Happy New Year, no matter how or when you celebrate. May you be sealed in the Book of Life.  From now until sunset tonight, we’re going to go party like it’s 5773.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

From Red Velvet Ropes To Red Velvet Cupcakes

I never, ever go to the movies. It’s just not my thing. Maybe I don’t have the attention span; with TIVO I have trained myself to watch 42 minutes straight (a one hour show, fast forwarding through commercials) before I really have to take a break or I fall asleep. But through a confluence of circumstances, I have now gone to the movies two weekends in a row. I need someone to invite me to a cocktail party ASAP because I finally have something current to chat about.

Before last weekend, I think it had probably been 10 years since I last saw a movie. But I was persuaded by the prospect of an evening out with two of my girlfriends. We saw The Butler. I thought it was great. I’m a sap so I cried a lot and don’t think I didn’t hear about that. Let’s be honest, some days I cry at the nostalgia of a Carvel Ice Cream Fudgie The Whale commercial, so clearly I’m going to be moved by semi-historical drama.

It was last weekend that I also learned about reserved seats at movie theaters. Last I checked, airlines were giving up reserved seating, but now it’s being implemented in some movie theaters? I guess it’s good for reducing anxiety, but I need a little time to warm up to the concept. The theater we went to is also part of a new breed, I guess, of upscale theaters. Gourmet food, fresh baked goods, a wine list…WTF? Plus, roomy, comfy seats. I was dumbfounded. When did going to the movies become so civilized?

This past weekend I ended up going to the same cinema with another girlfriend and we saw the new Woody Allen movie, Blue Jasmine. On the bright side, I didn’t cry at all, nor did I fall asleep. And because I had just been to the theater the weekend before, I was able to show my friend the ropes of choosing seats and drooling over cupcakes at the concession stand (she was a quick study!). We bought our tickets, chose our seats, and headed out to dinner.

When it was time to come back and settle in for the movie, we went directly to our seats, H1 and H2, but they were already occupied. We double checked, yep, it was row H, seats 1 and 2 alright. The couple in our seats pulled out their tickets and showed us that theirs also said H1 and H2. The problem is, as you may recall, I can’t see anything anymore without pulling out my reading glasses, so I just nodded and acted like I could see what they said. For all I know the piece of paper said “Hi, I’m an axe murderer!” It doesn’t matter because I nodded and smiled politely.

Fortunately the theater wasn’t full, so my friend and I went and sat in another section, holding our breath that we weren’t in someone else’s seats. We were both a little bent out of shape though. As my friend pointed out, the guy in her seat wasn’t much of a gentleman; why didn’t he offer to move? I noted that I am familiar with these kind of idiots, and their tickets were probably for the earlier showing or a different movie or something. I was outraged. Self-righteous. Indignant. That’s when my friend took another look at our tickets and noticed they said 6:00pm. But, we were in the 8:15pm showing. Ooops.

So all’s well that ends well. The movie was pretty good, and so were the cupcakes. If my pattern continues, the next time I see a movie should be around 2023.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , | 6 Comments

As Far As I Remember, Those Were The Good Old Days

I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook. I love it because I can reconnect with people and see what’s happening in their lives. And I hate it because I can reconnect with people and see what’s happening in their lives. OK, mostly love, and we’ll leave it at that.

I had stopped going on FB for a while because it was just too much to keep up with. My musings post automatically, but I rarely logged on and checked the newsfeed. Recently I jumped back on and immediately got sucked right back in.

Checking on the status of family members first, I noted that my niece had called my  nephew a “douche” on his wall. What a proud and heartwarming moment for me as an Aunt. Ah, to revel in those two absolutely delightful young adults. As I noted, when I see a post like that I know that something is right in this crazy world.

Then I noticed that my college roommate had a picture from circa 1982 where my hair was simultaneously chemically straightened, and forcefully “feathered”, neither to very good effect. It was scary. May both Farrah Fawcett and my old hair “style” RIP.

college

But that was just the beginning. Suddenly there were more pictures posted, and then I posted a few of my own…and then everyone started reminiscing. That’s when one of my friends suggested we all get a beach house together next year and rekindle the good old days. I am as nostalgic as the next person, but a group house? I noted that I would be 50 next year, and I’m not sure I should be staying in a house with people I’m not related to. Well, that did it. Bring on the jokes and insults—I get it. We all got older at the same rate.

The thing is, some of those guys started out with a modicum of maturity and good sense. I did not. I was a moron. So my maturity level seems accelerated when in fact it’s just that I  started behind the eight ball.

I’m trying to picture how this group house concept will unfold. I’m guessing after we get all hopped up on Snackwell cookies and decaf coffee, the conversation might center on the state of our retirement funds and whether or not the older Boomers are in fact going to suck up all the social security before we have a chance to get at it. Mortgage rates, the stock market, the cost of living. Sure, I assiduously avoided the general angst and expense associated with parenthood, but my cats can go through fuzzy mice and scratching pads at an alarming rate. Have you even priced Friskies Buffet lately?

And inevitably I will need to look at pictures of other people’s happy, healthy, well-adjusted children and wonder how people who 30 years ago spent most of their time drinking Malt Duck in a 7-11 parking lot have successfully reproduced and raised lovely little humans. My rule of thumb is that for every two pictures of their kid I look at, they will have to look at one adorable cat photo. Awww. There’s Jack sleeping on the sofa, curled up with Chrissy. Precious, am I right?

I know at least a couple of us long ago gave up drinking, so I would likely stock the fridge with almond milk and diet Dr. Pepper. I have to leave my pill box out on the counter or I forget to take my meds—and believe me, everyone wants me on my meds. I can only assume that like me, my friends are also now taking meds for a variety of ailments. So, will all our pill boxes be lined up on the counter? It’s a whole new take on the drug problem we heard so much about back in those days. At least we can turn the music up as loud as we like because if the cops come to the door the only things we’ll be holding are cholesterol and blood pressure meds. Let’s hope no one panics and flushes everything when they see the fuzz. My co-pay went up this year.

Look, no matter what happens, I was holding that Lipitor for a friend.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 14 Comments

Who’s Ready For A Tribute Album?

So this August marks one year since I started blogging. This is post #219. Imagine! 219 assorted musings about Important Things; posts where I try to do my part about The Human Condition. Pretty heady stuff…but I try to stay humble. Sure, I’ve bettered mankind with my witty banter, but that is my gift.

OK, calm down, I can hear the groans from across cyberspace. How about if I just point you in the direction of some of my favorites? Here’s one for each month I’ve been blogging:

If Only They’d Covered It All

Sleeping With One Eye Open

Did It Just Get Chilly In Here?

Time To Give Back

The Year Jane Ruined Christmas

A Tale Of Passion, Drama and Janet Reno

A Midwinter Tale

Watch Your Step

Apparently I Was in Opryland

The Cutest Corporation

Continuing Education: What I Learned Over My Summer Vacation

Whenever I Wake Up…And I Put On My Make-Up…I Say A Little Prayer

 

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

Call Now! Don’t Delay!

It doesn’t happen often, but on occasion, when I am in deep thought about all the important, life altering work I’m doing right now, I watch a little daytime television.

If you want to know the state of our culture, you need only to watch the commercials during daytime TV. There are lots of schools; apparently we’re all either uneducated or educated in the wrong profession. For example, as I understand it, computers are going to be a big thing. You heard it here first! You should sign up now to go to, uh, “computer school”, so you can be a “computer technologist” or some such thing. I think mainframes may be coming back.

America is getting older so health care is big. You can train to be a medical specialist, whatever the hell that is. All I know is that classes are starting soon and financial aid is available. Doesn’t sound enticing? What about when the announcer says “Wear scrubs! Look important!” Now you’re into it, am I right? No need to actually be important, just to look important.

Weight loss programs, pills and magical potions are of course a mainstay of daytime advertising. If you weren’t a slug, you would get off the couch right now and spend the paltry balance of your bank account on diet pills that would make you not just thin and toned, but also smart, funny, talented, loved and respected. You would also have a pool in your backyard and you would wear a bikini every day, year-round. Your smiling children would play quietly behind you. You would fake-smile sympathetically at fat people who neglected to buy the pills.

There is also an incessant parade of commercials for personal injury lawyers. One ad shows greedy insurance company lawyers leaning over a hospital bed asking the groggy patient to sign her rights away while she’s injured and under heavy sedation. Don’t sign! You can hire your own greedy lawyers! The worst part about these commercials is that I am saddled with the knowledge of certain bar rules regarding advertisements for legal services, and things like “if you have a phone, you have a lawyer” are questionable to say the least. But hey, I’m not one to obsess over this stuff and I am certainly not frantically thumbing through my ABA Model Rules (insert nervous, obsessive laugh here).

If I was an anthropologist, or even just played one on TV, and was asked to draw conclusions based on daytime TV advertising, I think I would at least deduce that:

  1. You are not important and no one loves you unless you go to school and/or wear scrubs
  2. If you’re saddled with debt from a crappy technical school and still can’t get a job, a good way to make money is to get injured and go to the hospital
  3. Either way, you’re either a bikini model or a fat slob
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 6 Comments

Cuppa’ Dan

Believe it or not, Dan loves it when he is the subject of my blogs, and was tickled that I fleshed out the whole Romans catching lions thing. When I asked him what I should blog about next he suggested I discuss his Coffee Assembly Line, because suddenly my blog is all about him. I told him, I can’t get a whole blog out of that! Sure, it’s funny and eccentric, but, my readers expect top notch intellectual discourse, not coffee talk!

Then I remembered that it’s just my blog; I’m not exactly going for literary excellence. So here goes: Dan has a Problem with coffee. He loves it. We have no fewer than half a dozen different kinds of coffee at any point in time. But it’s not enough for him to just make some coffee—he has to Danify it and make it as complicated as possible.

First, the coffee ice cubes. When he drinks iced coffee he doesn’t want to dilute it so he fills ice cube trays with coffee and plants them all over the freezer. Then, the parade of condiments. In general Dan takes his coffee black, but for his homemade coffee confections he busts out chocolate syrup and condensed milk and cinnamon and I don’t know what else.

There are of course other accoutrements. Biscotti of various kinds. Different cups for different types of drinks. Dan has his own little coffee bar set up. He’s a regular frackin’ barrista.

coffee

So Dan drinks a lot of coffee, but understand that by nature he moves as if he’s underwater; infuriatingly slow and deliberate. That’s why one of his nicknames is Super Slo-Mo. And no matter how much coffee he drinks, he still moves at a snail’s pace. It can take up to 15 minutes for Dan to get his coffee situated in the morning.

I bet you’re wondering if I have a point in all this. Well I do. First, I love a blog where I can work in the word “accoutrements.” In my head I pronounce it all French and snooty. Second, what I’m saying is that the mysteries are adding up. Dan shops for food several times a week yet we don’t have anything in the house to eat. Dan drinks gallons of coffee but never picks up the pace. Dan watches sci-fi but never learns anything scientific.

So my point is this: if Dan talks and I’m not there to make fun of him, does he still make a sound?

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments