101 Ways to Annoy People

A friend of mine recently commented of how she started to read my blog, but couldn't continue as it was too sad. I thought about it and realized that she had a point. As of late, my blog has kind of been a downer (Debbie Downer anyone?), so, in honor of her, I am reposting what I think is one of my funniest posts, and just one of the funniest things ever. (I wish I could take credit for it, but I cannot.) Enjoy!

1. Sing the Batman theme incessantly. 2. In the memo field of all your checks, write "for sensual massage." 3. Specify that your drive-through order is "to go." 4. Learn Morse code, and have conversations with friends in public consisting entirely of "Beeeep Bip Bip Beeep Bip..." 5. If you have a glass eye, tap on it occasionally with your pen while talking to others. 6. Amuse yourself for endless hours by hooking a camcorder to your TV and then pointing it at the screen. 7. Speak only in a "robot" voice. 8. Push all the flat Lego pieces together tightly. 9. Start each meal by conspicuously licking all your food, and announce that this is so no one will "swipe your grub". 10. Leave the copy machine set to reduce 200%, extra dark, 17 inch paper, 98 copies. 11. Stomp on little plastic ketchup packets. 12. Sniffle incessantly. 13. Leave your turn signal on for fifty miles. 14. Name your dog "Dog." 15. Insist on keeping your car windshield wipers running in all weather conditions "to keep them tuned up." 16. Reply to everything someone says with "that's what YOU think." 17. Claim that you must always wear a bicycle helmet as part of your "astronaut training." 18. Declare your apartment an independent nation, and sue your neighbors upstairs for "violating your airspace". 19. Forget the punchline to a long joke, but assure the listener it was a "real hoot." 20. Follow a few paces behind someone, spraying everything they touch with Lysol. 21. Practice making fax and modem noises. 22. Highlight irrelevant information in scientific papers and "cc:" them to your boss. 23. Make beeping noises when a large person backs up. 24. Invent nonsense computer jargon in conversations, and see if people play along to avoid the appearance of ignorance. 25. Erect an elaborate network of ropes in your backyard, and tell the neighbors you are a "spider person." 26. Finish all your sentences with the words "in accordance with the prophesy." 27. Wear a special hip holster for your remote control. 28. Do not add any inflection to the end of your sentences, producing awkward silences with the impression that you'll be saying more any moment. 29. Signal that a conversation is over by clamping your hands over your ears. 30. Disassemble your pen and "accidentally" flip the ink cartridge across the room. 31. Give a play-by-play account of a persons every action in a nasal Howard Cosell voice. 32. Holler random numbers while someone is counting. 33. Adjust the tint on your TV so that all the people are green, and insist to others that you "like it that way." 34. Drum on every available surface. 35. Staple papers in the middle of the page. 36. Ask 1-800 operators for dates. 37. Produce a rental video consisting entirely of dire FBI copyright warnings. 38. Sew anti-theft detector strips into peoples backpacks. 39. Hide dairy products in inaccessible places. 40. Write the surprise ending to a novel on its first page. 41. Set alarms for random times. 42. Order a side of pork rinds with your filet mignon. 43. Instead of Gallo, serve Night Train next Thanksgiving. 44. Publicly investigate just how slowly you can make a "croaking" noise. 45. Honk and wave to strangers. 46. Dress only in clothes colored Hunters Orange. 47. Change channels five minutes before the end of every show. 48. Tape pieces of "Sweating to the Oldies" over climactic parts of rental movies. 49. Wear your pants backwards. 50. Decline to be seated at a restaurant, and simply eat their complimentary mints by the cash register. 51. Begin all your sentences with "ooh la la!" 52. ONLY TYPE IN UPPERCASE. 53. only type in lowercase. 54. dont use any punctuation either 55. Buy a large quantity of orange traffic cones and reroute whole streets. 56. Pay for your dinner with pennies. 57. Tie jingle bells to all your clothes. 58. Repeat everything someone says, as a question. 59. Write "X - BURIED TREASURE" in random spots on all of someone's roadmaps. 60. Inform everyone you meet of your personal Kennedy assassination/UFO/ O.J Simpson conspiracy theories. 61. Repeat the following conversation a dozen times: "Do you hear that?" "What?" "Never mind, its gone now." 62. Light road flares on a birthday cake. 63. Wander around a restaurant, asking other diners for their parsley. 64. Leave tips in Bolivian currency. 65. Demand that everyone address you as "Conquistador." 66. At the laundromat, use one dryer for each of your socks. 67. When Christmas caroling, sing "Jingle Bells, Batman smells" until physically restrained. 68. Wear a cape that says "Magnificent One." 69. As much as possible, skip rather than walk. 70. Stand over someone's shoulder, mumbling, as they read. 71. Pretend your computer's mouse is a CB radio, and talk to it. 72. Try playing the William Tell Overture by tapping on the bottom of your chin. When nearly done, announce "no, wait, I messed it up," and repeat. 73. Drive half a block. 74. Inform others that they exist only in your imagination. 75. Ask people what gender they are. 76. Lick the filling out of all the Oreos, and place the cookie parts back. 77. Cultivate a Norwegian accent. If Norwegian, affect a Southern drawl. 78. Routinely handcuff yourself to furniture, informing the curious that you don't want to fall off "in case the big one comes". 79. Deliberately hum songs that will remain lodged in co-workers brains, such as "Feliz Navidad", the Archies "Sugar" or the Mr. Rogers theme song. 80. While making presentations, occasionally bob your head. like a parakeet. 81. Lie obviously about trivial things such as the time of day. 82. Leave your Christmas lights up and lit until September. 83. Change your name to "AaJohn Aaaaasmith" for the great glory of being first in the phone book. Claim it's a Hawaiian name, and demand that people pronounce each "a." 84. Sit in your front yard pointing a hair dryer at passing cars to see if they slow down. 85. Chew on pens that you've borrowed. 86. Wear a LOT of cologne. 87. Listen to 33rpm records at 45rpm speed, and claim the faster speed is necessary because of your "superior mental processing." 88. Sing along at the opera. 89. Mow your lawn with scissors. 90. At a golf tournament, chant "swing-batabatabata-suhWING-batter!" 91. Ask the waitress for an extra seat for your "imaginary friend." 92. Go to a poetry recital and ask why each poem doesn't rhyme. 93. Ask your co-workers mysterious questions, and then scribble their answers in a notebook. Mutter something about "psychological profiles." 94. Stare at static on the TV and claim you can see a "magic picture." 95. Select the same song on the jukebox fifty times. 96. Never make eye contact. 97. Never break eye contact. 98. Construct elaborate "crop circles" in your front lawn. 99. Construct your own pretend "tricorder," and "scan" people with it, announcing the results. 100. Make appointments for the 31st of September. 101. Invite lots of people to other people's parties.

Birthday Wishes

I was sitting here, after responding to a comment on one of my posts, when I looked at the date of the comment and realized that today is actually my father's birthday. My exact reaction, and I quote, "Oh, today is Avi's birthday." Then I thought how inconsequential this day is for me. Yes, it's my father's birthday, but for a father I have not seen in....ten years (I even had to think about that). It's just a normal day for me, one that will be spent studying for the LSATs, lunch with a close friend, and then my LSAT class. So, happy birthday to a father I no longer have anything to do with. I am moving on with my day now.

Featured Blog

A special thanks to Lynette, over at Dancing Barefoot on Weathered Ground, who has made my blog the featured blog today as part of "Getting to Know You" feature! Here is the post featuring my blog. Also, a special thanks goes out to the many readers who visited from there!

Check out Lynette's blog, along with the others. She has many, many readers, so have fun checking those out! Thanks again to Lynette and her readers!

Instant Gratification

We want it, and we want it now. This instant. It does not matter what it is, we want it now. Instant everything. Instant messages, email, fax, internet. Instant food, the faster the better. Instant education, job, wealth. Instant medical service, diagnoses, and an instant cure. Instant family. Instant travel. Instant information. Instant banking. Instant, instant, instant.

Instant gratification. The need to want something right now, instead of waiting. No longer do we want to wait and see the benefits of hard work, or let life happen and the pieces fall where they may. We, as a society, are impatient, very impatient. We cannot wait for anything. If we expect something, we expect it now. We want things done now, regardless of the circumstances of the situation.

Our society has become one that has drifted towards an expectation of instant gratification. it is everywhere in our society, in places we do not even realize it exists. Instead of sitting down and enjoying a meal, we have drive-thru's. We check everything online, sometimes obsessively. And if that is not enough, we have the internet to tell us everything we want to know at the drop of a hat, instead of working towards finding the answers to our questions. (Books anyone?) In fact, when was the last time you actually picked up a real dictionary? If you are anything like me, it has probably been awhile, a long while. Why go get the dictionary, thumb through it, find the word, and read it, when we can just Google it, or go to one of the many online dictionaries, look it up, and get it instantly?

We want it all at our fingertips, without waiting. We don't have the time to wait. But that is exactly what life is about: waiting. We are always waiting for something. Half of the joy in life is the waiting. So instead of wishing for something to happen now, in this instant, sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. It might just be worth the wait.

A Rant About My Brother

This week I spent about four hours shopping for my brother. On two different days. I know that may not seem like a lot of time, and I guess it's not, but I am not ranting about the time I spent doing so; I am ranting about the fact that I do his shopping for him every other week, which is funded by, yup, you guessed right, my mother.

My brother does not live at home, and has not for three years. He dormed at school for two years, and is now living with two friends off campus, but near school. He has a job, which, while may not be great pay, is still a job and still gives him money. Now, I know it may not be enough for rent, food, utilities, and other essentials, in which case I can understand my mom helping him out. However, it is not like that. My mom gives him a nice sum at the beginning of each month, enough to help with the odds and ends. Yet, in the middle of each month, my mom is giving him more money. Why? Because my brother believes that one thing or another should be split with my mom, and, my mom being my mom and babying my brother agrees and gives him the money.

But wait, there's more! Not only does she give him money at the beginning and middle of the month (and sometimes more), she pays for the shopping that I do for him every other week. And since I do the shopping, I know what she pays for that as well. Basically, I know what she outputs for him in a month, give or take.

What bothers me about this is not that she helps him out financially (well, it does, but I'll to that later), but the fact that he was the one who chose to move out, live on his own, get a job (though he did not have a job the first two years), and be independent. Yet, I do his shopping for him, and my mother basically funds everything for him. He goes to work, goes to the gym, goes to school, and goes drinking. Am I the only one who sees something very wrong with this picture?

Now, I do not expect him to be completely independent. I know what it is like to go school and work at the same time, and while that may have been awhile ago for me, I did not forget. But, to me, if you choose to move out and live on your own, that means accepting a lot more responsibilities than what you had before. That includes doing your own shopping, funding some (if not most) of your own living, and not doing anything extravagant (like going out drinking every weekend, buying expensive foods, and buying clothes from Express, Ambercombie, etc.). It means living within your means and doing things for yourself. All of which he does not do.

I do not know what bothers me more: the fact that he does not do things for himself and live within his means, or the fact that my mom enables him by agreeing to do his shopping and financially supporting him more than she should. Now, I know I am only the daughter/sister, and some of you will say that I do not know all of what goes on, and that I should mind my own business.  However, as I said it bothers me. It really bothers me. But I also do know what goes on (I see and hear, and my mom tells me, granted, not everything, but enough), and it is my business. It was made my business when I was asked to do the shopping for him.

It bothers me not only because my brother takes advantage of my mom, and my mom lets him, but it bothers me because my mom has a hard enough time making her ends meet. She is not poor, but she is not rich. Far from it. There are months where she struggles financially, and then to have to help him on top what she already does can make it very hard. And my brother knows, he is very aware of what her financial state is, but does not seem to give it second thought. For instance, he needed a tutor for chemistry. When he got this tutor, he went to my mom and told her they should split it asked her if they could split it. She agreed. So, now she gives him money for that as well. And don't get me started on the cell phone.

As I write this, I see the figure in my head of what she gives him. I see her doing things he should be doing (like mailing books he sold online), I see myself spending four to six hours every other week doing his shopping or some other errand for him. I see it, and it frustrates me and pisses me off.

Part of the reason it pisses me off so much is because my brother sometimes makes fun of me for still living at home at my age. Truth is though, I may live at home, but I more independent than he is, and will probably ever be. I pay my own bills, buy my own groceries, pay for my own health insurance, and pay for whatever else I may need or want. In fact, I pay rent (when I have a job). The only thing my mother pays for is my shelter and the groceries we share. Yes, she has helped me out in the past when I needed it, and she just did as well for a Kaplan LSAT class, even though I refused at first (those classes are so damn expensive!), but I keep a running tab; I write down what I owe her, and I pay her back when I can. Not to mention, I pull my own weight around the apartment. But my brother, what does he do? He does not and will not pay her back, he does not live here so he cannot help around the house (and when he does come home he does not do anything, including washing his own dishes), and he does not do his own grocery shopping. (Which, by the way, my mom defends explains by saying that he does not have the time, but he has time to go to the gym six days a week? It does not add up.)

I know I should probably mind my own business, but it frustrates and upsets me, especially when I see my mom struggling to make ends meet, and then to have to help out my brother, financially and otherwise. I have tried talking to my mom about it, but she just shrugs it off or tells me not to worry about it. But I know that is not going to happen, so I guess I will have to deal until either my brother becomes truly independent or I move out (and I am betting the latter will come before the former). Anyway, that is my rant. Thanks for listening.

Another One Bites the Dust

I just found out that someone else from my graduating class is engaged. That would make her the fifth person in a month to do so, and I do not even know what number out of my whole graduating class to get engaged/married in general. Honestly, I don't want to know. It would just make me feel more behind, more envious.

Don't get me wrong. I'm happy for her, for all of them. But I can't help but wish that it was me getting all those "mazel tov"s posted on my Facebook wall, getting an OnlySimchas page, getting the happily ever after. Nor can I help but think that these people have had everything handed to them on a silver platter since they were born. They had great parents, married parents who had great jobs, cars when they turned sixteen, got into the colleges, graduate schools, and jobs that they dreamed of, got the boyfriend right away or always had one, and now have the ring.

I am not saying that these people never had to fight for something, but I don't think they know the true meaning of fighting for something you want, something you believe in, and really struggling to get it. Everything I have in my life that means something to me I had to fight for. I fought my father, both inside and out of court, I fought to graduate high school, to go to college and succeed, and now I am fighting to get into law school and follow my dream, and fighting for the love of my life, to make it work with him so far away.

And while I am fighting for all these things, five classmates get engaged within a months' time of each other. Like I said before, I will be honest: I am envious. I will not deny it or lie to myself or anyone else about it. They have what I always wanted, what I still want. Granted, I am not quite ready for it, but I am more ready than I ever was before, and I want it, so badly. I know that I will get it, someday, but it still does something to me to see so many others get it before I do.

We Remember

We forget half of what they teach us in school, but we remember plenty of other things. We remember faces, and names. We remember locker numbers and combination codes. We remember ugly wall colors, narrow stairwells, and too crowded halls. We remember smiles and laughter, sneers and tears. We remember free periods and lunches. We remember ditch days and sick days. We remember.

School is not just about learning and educating. It is about the friends we make, the ones we don't, and what we do not learn in books and never will. It is about what we come away with at the end of it all, the person we become, the person we are meant to become. It is about memories that we will carry forever, good and bad. We may not remember everything we are taught, but we remember.

The Baggage of Divorce

A few weeks ago I went out with two good friends of mine. One was in from New York for Succos, so we all wanted to catch up and hang out before the holidays began. As usual, our conversation led to dating, and all the trials and tribulations that go with it. My friend, C (her real name begins with an "I" but using that might get awkward as it is also a pronoun), the one from New York, began telling us a story of how a friend of hers wanted to set her up with a man that she had met and had a really good feeling about. Here is the thing though: He is divorced. My two friends, A and C, were hesitant about this.

Dating someone who is around our age, who already has a divorce under his belt can be a lot to take on. As C said, "I'm not sure I want to date someone who already has that kind of baggage at my age." Granted, this man is 28, but it is still baggage, and understandably, not one many would want to deal with. I sat there, listening to them, understanding where they were coming from, but thinking that divorce is probably not the worst thing to deal with in a relationship, at least, in my opinion; there are worse things out there. I am not going to get into what is worse right now; everyone will have their own opinions on that, and I am sure many will disagree with me. What I am trying to get at is that I, a child of a bitter divorce, is thinking that divorce is not the scariest thing to deal with in a relationship.

As I sat there and thought about the irony of that, I realized that yes, I am scared of getting divorced. How can I not be? More than half the marriages in the U.S. end up in divorce, but not only that, I witnessed divorce first hand. However, I am more scared of not ever getting married, not ever finding my "happily ever after," even if it's only temporary. I am scared of never getting the family and husband I want. Maybe I am being skeptical, or pessimistic, or both, but I am being honest. Yes, divorce comes with plenty of baggage, but so can never being married.

Past Loves

I was just looking through my past blog posts. Not so much the ones from this past year, but my early posts, from when I started this blog, back in 2006 and 2007. I wrote a lot about love, and what I felt for some other guys. As I look back and read, it reminds me of how I felt towards them, but it also reminds me that what I felt towards them is nothing compared to the way I feel about my boyfriend. What I feel towards him, about him, is so much stronger than what I felt towards those men that it is not even comparable. This is not to say that what I felt towards those guys was not real. It was, very real. I was also much younger then, more naive. But, as I said, what I feel for my boyfriend now is very different and much stronger than what I felt for them. What I feel for him now cannot be put into words; I am not even sure it has words. I just know that I love him, more than words can say.

On Being A Jew

As I approached synagogue on Erev Yom Kippur, I saw a man standing outside the building, talking on his cell phone. I commented to my mother, "Look at that guy there. I'll bet he's a three-time-a-year Jew." (A three-times-a-year-Jew is a Jew who only goes to synagogue three time a year, on the holiest holidays.) Then it occurred to me: I am no better than him. Granted, I do not talk on my cell phone outside of synagogue; heck, I do not even bring my cell phone to synagogue, but I have become a three-time-a-year Jew. I realized it was the pot calling the kettle black.

As I sat in synagogue on Erev Yom Kippur and listened to my uncle sing Kol Nidre, I kept wondering about why I was there, sitting in synagogue, praying, fasting, asking G-d to forgive me of my sins, to inscribe me in the book of life. I wondered why I had to go and say the words in the book, why I had to sit there and listen to the prayers (as beautiful as some of them are), and I wondered what it meant if the words I said did not carry the same meaning for me as they did for me five or ten years ago.

I sat there, struggling with my inner self, my inner thoughts, trying to decide if I was a bad Jew. I no longer go to synagogue on a regular basis, in fact, I do not go at all except for holidays, if then. I eat out non-kosher dairy, and I keep Shabbos (sort of), but not to the extent others, more religious Jews, do, among other things. But does that make me a bad Jew? Better yet, is there such a thing as bad Jew?

I do what works for me, I do what I believe and what I believe in. It may not follow all the laws or traditions, but it is what I believe. Many will say that Judaism is not about doing what works for you or doing what you believe in; it is about doing and believing, plain and simple. And that's great. If those people have such great faith, such great belief, and the resolve to do it all, or even more than what I do, I commend them, I really do. It's not easy. Being a Jew has never been easy, and it was never meant to be.

Being a Jew is built on faith, and a lot of it. I no longer believe the way I used to; I no longer have the same amount of faith that I used to have. I do have it when it comes to certain things, but the rest I have been looking for that belief, that complete and utter faith, for some time now. Searching for the belief that I had when I was in grade school, high school even. It constantly eludes me. I still have faith, but it is not on the same level that I used to have it. And maybe I am not meant to find it. Maybe I am supposed to stay at this level of faith. Maybe, at this point in my life, I am where I am supposed to be, including in my beliefs.

What I Want

What I want is to not have my heart break a million times a day.

What I want is to not miss my ex so much still.

What I want is to have what every couple has--each other.

What I want is to have babies of my own.

What I want is to lose 20 pounds (as a starter).

What I want is to be in law school.

What I want is to have my friends be happy, in whatever makes them happy.

What I want is to learn how to play the drums.

What I want is to live on my own.

What I want is to have a job I love, one I do not mind getting up for in the morning.

What I want is to find peace and happiness within myself, for myself, with myself.

What I want.

The Pillow

Before my now ex-boyfriend left for Israel, I made him give me a pillow of his. It is a blue bean bag pillow, one he used all the time, that he absolutely loved. And I made him give it to me. I wanted something of his that he loved and used all the time. In fact, before he left, I took just about anything he offered me that he was trying to get rid of. I have two stuffed animals (monkeys), a computer bag that he used all the time, an Israeli army or navy flag (I do not remember which), and a bunch of other random things, including the pillow. I took it all. Why? Because they were his. The last bits I would have of his; the last bit I would have left of him.

However, of all the things that I took from him, the pillow is the one that means the most to me. Maybe that is because it meant so much to him, because he loved it so much. I used to sleep with it all the time. Literally, all the time, for months. And then one night, as I was going to bed, I decided not to. I wanted to, very much so, but I decided that doing so would just make letting him go harder. It was already making it harder. It was a reminder on a daily and nightly basis that he is no longer here. So I put the pillow away.

I placed it on one of my nightstands, right next to my bed. It has sat there ever since. I cannot make myself move it, to put it away. I thought of mailing it to him in Israel, but could not bring myself to do that either. I also thought of bringing it with me when I would go to visit and give it back to him then. But I cannot, and would not, be able to do that either. I cannot let go of that pillow. That pillow will be with me forever, as will the computer bag and stuffed monkeys. I may have to let him go, but I do not have to let those go.