Self Portrait.

If you had to pick a favorite brand of bottled water, what would it be? My two favorites are Fiji or Volvic, because they don’t taste like the plastic they’re bottled in. I also like Spa, but can’t stand Evian, to me it just has a really artificial taste. Sometimes I don’t buy the water I love because it’s either not available at the store I’m in when I get the thirst for clear, tasteless liquid, or it’s just too damn expensive (a large bottle of Fiji water can run upwards of $4 in midtown Manhattan). Today, in a fit of convenience I purchased a bottle of Aquafina from a local drugstore. I brought it to my office at work and quickly unscrewed the cap. And for some strange reason, it fizzed. Yes fizzed. Bubble-less, sparkle-less water that made a fizzing sound when it opened?! Now, it’s not the first time I’ve bought Aquafina, in fact I have fond memories of opening my first bottle while watching the Broadway show “Ragtime” at the then new Ford Theater in Midtown Manhattan. I remember thinking, at the time, and before I knew it was a Pepsi product, that I loved the refreshing crispness and fizz associated with said water, but now I kind of think it’s gross and unnatural, and the more I write about water, the more I wonder why I am writing about water and why I actually purchased water that I don’t like. So I’m going to shut up now.

I feel change coming on again. And while I always embrace it, I still think that sometimes change has been my excuse to run away from things. This time the change isn’t being brought on by me, but I haven’t done anything to stop it and I can’t say that I’m not happy about what might be happening. I think my highest paying job at is about to change drastically, therefore causing me to find other ways to make money, and that it might sort of suck, but in the end it will be good for me. We’ll see. I kind of sort of knew that this was coming, but when you actually have a conversation about the impending transition it still feels a little disconcerting. But I know, and knew that this day would come (it hasn’t come yet), and hope that I can work things out to my advantage (yes, I’m being cryptic, but over the course of the next few weeks I should have more info. and then yes, of course, I’ll share).

And I was bummed that I didn’t get a chance to write yesterday, but instead ran around and recorded these one minute segments for Premiere Radio Network (a subsidiary of Clear Channel - at least I think that’s the deal). They’re going to send them out to some stations starting next week, and as long as the stations aren’t all that offended by them, which I truly hope will be the case, then I’ll continue to record a daily minute segment. Which is cool, because it gets my name out there, and if there’s one thing I learned from all my years as a Producer, it’s that if you don’t get your name out there, then nobody will.

I’m beginning to feel like something is being lifted from inside of me, just as another thing is starting to die. It’s a strange feeling, really, and one that I can’t truly describe. Like a rubberband being pulled from two ends, waiting to snap in the middle. Hmm. Or maybe it’s just like fizzy, flat water. Always a bit of noise before the calm. Who knows?

Camping with the flova turned boyfriend. Bday Weekend ’05.

I’m trying to record some radio minutes for a big radio channel that’s looking to spice up their packaged content, only if it gets to sexy then they can’t use it. I left terrestrial radio a few years ago, and now I sort of know why. It’s hard to say anything without offending someone or the FCC. Hopefully I managed to find a way to do it, but I haven’t heard back from the staff yet. In the meantime, here are the questions I’m going to answer and the briefest answer I can give (the answers for radio are longer):

I’ll let you know if they are actually ever going to see the light of day, or more accurately the radio dial…

1. Do girls like guys with chest/back hair?

Yes and No and not necessarily in that order.

2. What kind of underwear do girls like to see on guys?

Boxer briefs.

3. What’s the best/worst way for a guy to approach a girl at a bar?

No pickup lines. No arrogance. Innocence. Interest and a Genuine Smile.

4. Do girls really like porn?

Yes. But not all of them.

5. How long should a guy wait to call after the first date?

No more than 72 hours.

6. How far can a guy go on the first date?

As far as he wants, but if he likes her, not that far.

7. Do girls get beer goggles too?

Yes. Beer Goggling is an equal opportunity sport.

The audience is high school/college boys, and these are the questions. I’m excited that the producer thought of me to do the segment, but it’s a lot of work for no money…yes, no money…but that’s okay, because I’m all about spreading the message.

I did it for sex. Yes mom and dad, you heard me correctly, I DID IT FOR SEX.

Today is 18 years since I had my Bat Mitzvah. 18 years to the day…and having just watched the video the other day for the first time since the year it was made (1987) and now realizing that it’s 18 years, I say…shit, time flies.

Oh, and today is United Nations Day. I only remember that because it was also my bat mitzvah, and that year (1987), it was also the day you turn back your clocks in the United States.

Done with the useless info. for now. Here’s the “and then some.”
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Okay. So here’s the LD on the BDay. I loved the concept of Camp D, and the idea of camping in the Irish Catskills for my bday. But truth be told, it was rather hard and well, too hard a way to spend a birthday. The rain started at 4AM Saturday morning, just a few hours after we set up camp and went to bed in all of our clothing (temps were below 32 degrees Farenheit). In the morning my boyfriend asked me what the coldest part of my body was, and since my nose had been sticking out from in between our sleeping bags it was the easiest answer I could give. We didn’t need to get dressed in the morning, we just needed to get out. So we went to a breakfast nook, the kind that isn’t all that classy and hates city slickers, and decided to enjoy a nice warm french toast and eggs kind of morning.

Then we went back to camp, only it never stopped raining and camp was on top of a hill and I couldn’t feel my toes, and I’m not complaining just for the record -and after a few hours hanging out with some very cool people (the best part of the camping experience outside of tent sex and tent bonding in my opinion) we went back into “town” although it wasn’t really a town and tried to find a place for dinner. But first we went to one of those haunted mansions that you can only find in places where there’s not much to do, and paid $10 a ticket (upstate New York prices are just as high as New York City ones) and got a little bit scared by the Jason character carrying the chain saw. Then we went to Darbys for a nice Irish dinner, where L. (my best friend) started to feel rather not so good and it was there that we decided, it being my birthday and all, to get a fab motel room for the night, and thus to deal with our camping gear in the morning. Only it wasn’t fab, it was pre-fab, but it was super fine. And the hotel office, which was really the hotel managers house, had a parrot that repeated phrases I uttered and made me realize, that yes, sometimes I do have a Valley Girl accent.

And my boyfriend and my best friend bought me very thought filled presents and I cried in the car on the ride home for a number of reasons.

1. I realized how much these two people truly cared about me, and really, really knew me.

2. I realized how much this potentially beautiful weekend sucked weatherwise.

3. I realized how much I loved my boyfriend because of who he is and how for a good bit of time I was getting into some patterning that involved me acting not so pretty and that I was jeopardizing our relationship because of it (there will be a cheesy Steppin Out piece this Thursday that goes even further on this one)

4. I realized I don’t want to go camping in late October in upstate New York.

Oh, there were lots of other things I realized, but I decided to leave it at the prefab four. Not because I don’t love typing, but because I’m feeling rather lazy now. I need to go home and unpack from the disaster. Everything is wet. Which is sometimes a good thing, and sometimes its not.

the full monty. only it’s not monty. it’s a picture of my picture in Heeb Magazine. Buy the damn magazine and you can see a better copy of it. That’s not a suggestion, that’s an order.

Now, Jewish Guilt….(well, sort of)

I am definitely guilty of talking on my cell phone at inappropriate moments, i.e. when I’m out with my friends or in a store, but I have been making a conscious effort to be aware of when, why and how I handle such situations. I try not to talk on the phone if it can be avoided, or excuse myself from the situation for a while, or whatever, and even though I am guilty at times, it’s still such a pet peeve of mine when people talk on their cell phones at the most inappropriate of moments.

I’m in the middle of a violent temper streak for some reason, constantly wanting to start fights or punch inappropriate people. And while I’m not punching people (I have started a few fights over the past few days) I had to hold myself back yesterday.

I was at one of those generic salad bar lunch places when I saw her. She was an attractive, 30 something business casual woman who was in line in front of me to “create her own salad.” Only, the whole time she was instructing the nice salad-maker-man on the ingredients she wanted, she was also conducting a HEAVY business conversation on the phone. She should have either a. gone outside, finished the conversation and then got the salad or b. told the person on the phone that she’d have to call them back in a few minutes, that she was just grabbing lunch. But she should not have c. stayed on the damn phone, trying to multi-task, but really just appearing overly rude in the process.

I didn’t like her at all, and I didn’t like her cell phone etiquette either, damn it.

Now that that’s off my chest, I’m heading over to New Jersey to the Steppin’ Out offices, to meet the staff and other writers, all of whom I’ve never met before. I’ve been writing for the magazine for the past three years, because my friend and former co-worker is the Editor. Apparently my column does really well, although I think it did better before I had a boyfriend, because now, no single men email me to ask me out, not that I’m unhappy about that, it’s just that before, when I was “eligible” I think my readers liked me more, but whatever…I like me more now and that’s what matters. Still, I’m heading up to the offices to meet the staff and the advertisers and schmooze. I’m excited, albeit a bit nervous. What if I don’t live up to their expectations?

Well, hopefully I will (live up to their expectations). Speaking of expectations, don’t expect me to blog for a few days after today. I’m going on a camping trip this weekend to celebrate MY BIRTHDAY. Yes, that’s right, this Saturday I turn 31. Doesn’t sound as glamorous as last year, when I turned 30, and I guess that’s because it’s not. I was talking to a 30 something woman the other day and she categorized the 30′s like this:

31-33: young 30s
33-36: mid 30s
37-40: upper 30s or just plain getting up there

But I think the 30′s is the prime of your life. And I’m ripe and ready to be primed. So, yeah, it’s my birthday celebration, all weekend long. (And maybe next week too, depending on how I feel about it)!!!

If I don’t get to write tomorrow, I’ll write again - after the age change.

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Do you know the difference between a water bug and a cockroach?

Apparently it’s just in the size of the bug. Waterbugs are bigger, I think it’s over three inches in lenghth, and that’s what I saw running through the ladies room at work the other day. How gross is that?

Now. I don’t have much time today so I’ll just do some cutting and pasting.

From the Washington Post:

Supreme Court nominee Harriet Miers once pledged that she would “actively support” a constitutional amendment banning abortions except to save a mother’s life, participate in antiabortion rallies, and try to block the flow of public money to clinics and organizations that help women obtain the procedure.

From the Times Herald-Record:

(see above picture)
Warwick

It’s official, and still a little ways away, but if you’re like me and make plans pretty far in advance, then now is a good time to mark this in my calendar.

Okay. Naked Ambition, the book I’m a contributor in - will be having a reading on Tuesday, November 1st.

6-8PM
At the Virgin Megastore Union Square. It’d be nice to see some faces that were happy to see me…

Otherwise, I’m feeling blah today. Had a discussion with the boy last night about drinking. He doesn’t do it and well, I do. Not all the time, but sometimes I like to drink, to have a few glasses of wine or vodka to unwind. I don’t need it, but sometimes I just want a drink. He likes me better sober, when I’m not saying things like, “do you love me?” or “how much do you love me?” I like me sober too, but sometimes I like to have a drink.

He’s not such a big fan of “the drunk Jamye”. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t have to, I don’t care, if he does or doesn’t, although I do like that we have more sober sex then I’ve had in years, but for some reason I feel like he’s judging me when I choose to drink. I don’t like being judged by anyone.

Can’t he just accept my drunken ass every once in a while? Is that so wrong?

Heeb Magazine is out, and although I can’t find it on newstands anywhere, I’ve been assured that it’s getting attention. In fact, I found this on Page Six.

October 15, 2021 — THE hottest scenes in the Bible, “Heeb“-style, have been declared too hot for browsers at Barnes & Noble. After Heeb magazine shipped its sex issue, Ingram, the country’s largest magazine distributor, called the publisher insisting it seal all issues in poly bags before they would be sent to Barnes & Noble, which has carried previous issues of the self-de scribed “new Jew review” unbagged. In addition to photos of comic Sarah Silverman wearing nothing but a sheet with a hole in it, the fall issue has an 11-page spread of illustrations reinterpreting Old Testament scenes, including one showing Onan and his brother’s wife caught doing what Onan is famous for, and

Beatles song..or an (un)clever title for a Sunday blog? You decide.

I’ve decided to start reading the NY Times on Sundays. Over the past few years I’ve let myself flounder when it comes to keeping on top of things in the news. I can partially blame my role as a radio/TV Producer for the lack of desire to know newsy things. As a producer, I’d always know what was happening - sometimes even before the people who knew what was happening, knew what was happening, or at least I was part of the “know-it-now” crowd. When it was all over, and when I decided to pursue what I wanted to be doing, I gave up the newspaper because it reminded of something I had to do, not something I wanted to do. Between giving up the paper, and disowning my TV - and right now, not having a radio - the only source of news I have is the Internet. And I don’t love to continously stare at a screen, or hear low, not so great audio. But, I’m digressing, this is not about how I get my information, this is just about getting information.

And today, because I decided to read the paper this afternoon, I learned a lot of things. Some things I’m glad to know, and other things, well, those are things I’m not so happy about. I don’t really want to talk about any of it. But that doesn’t mean I won’t want to talk about it ever. Okay? It’s just that I’m tired…and..well..tired of so much of the News. There are so many things that make me angry…

But then…

There was a big article about the sun coming out in New York yesterday. It’s strange, here’s this nice, communal, friendly piece of news, and when I started reading the article, I scoffed at it for not being meaty enough. Now, on second thought, it was the kind of news that’s nice to hear. Not like so much else of what is out there. But that seems to be the draw to any news. The death, drama, tragedy of it all. It’s what we seem to feed on, and in some way don’t you think it makes us bottom feeders? Or does it make us simply human?

Does that sound strange…I’m going to bed.