Just a Jew. Named Mitch. Writing about his feelings.

Archive for May, 2009

Baltimore Wedding Fun

Posted by JewMitch on May 31, 2009


Last weekend, I had to head back to Baltimore for a wedding, my first trip back since moving to New York. I was mildly exciting for the wedding – until I realized that not one, but two ex-girlfriends would be there. But oh well, I live in New York City now, and am awesome, and there would be unlimited Miller Lite there (or so I thought).

 So I grabbed the train down to DC to spend some quality time with the folks before the wedding, which was nice, but I had to keep reminding them that this visit counted double (I spent two nights at home) and that I would not be coming back to DC until Rosh Hashanah. It was okay though; they bought way too much food (8 steaks for 4 people), there was beer and some Maker’s Mark (which I had forced my dad to buy earlier), and it was actually nice to spend a weekend in suburbia after living in New York the last couple of months.

The wedding itself was fairly standard – sit in the church for a while, watch my friends make a promise before god, go to a cocktail hour, go to a reception and listen to the same songs that are played at every wedding. But they played Journey too (it was a Baltimore wedding) and that made me happy. Plus, as I get older, it seems like I need to go to weddings for no other reason than to see old friends that I don’t see anywhere else.

Since I couldn’t stay at my ex-girlfriend’s house – I called my one (one!) single male friend who I knew was going to the wedding and asked if I could stay with him. His apartment was also very conveniently located near the train station. It’s funny; when you’re younger and in college, you think that weddings will all be super fun. You picture an open bar, tons of hot single bridesmaids that are looking to hook up, and a wild party that goes all night. When in reality, many weddings today only have wine and beer, there are almost no single people there, the party is always kind of tame, and instead of hooking up – you get to talk to a lot of aunts and then pay a dry cleaning bill.

Still, it is kind of fun for some reason. And it is nice to believe in love for a minute as your friends exchange vows. And even if the marriage eventually ends in utter failure, maybe that couple will at least always have a memory of that time when they believed in each other so much that they decided it’d be a really great idea to spend thirty grand on a party that lasts five hours.

And aside from the beer running out around the third hour, then the caterers buying more beer, but instituting a one-beer-per-person-at-a-time rule, then running out again, then running out of champagne, then running out of wine with an hour left to go in the wedding; it was a nice day.

Oh, but this all brings me to the most important part of the story, and the reason I deemed this worthy blog material; the part where I saw my most recent ex-girlfriend at the reception. There are a lot of theories about how to handle seeing an ex that you haven’t seen in a while. These range from playing the jealously card, to playing it cool, to making a big scene with lots of yelling, to taking tranquilizers, to just staying home and crying in your room. But I think I came up with something much better than all of those.

So the ex and I are making small talk – how you doing, you look nice, blah blah blah. When all the sudden, I needed to fart. So instead of excusing myself, I turned slightly away from her, farted in her direction, and then used my hand as a fan to waft it over to her. She immediately smelled it and made one of those “I just smelled a fart” faces and looked at me. To which I replied: “I just farted on you.”

I put it down as one of my favorite Mitch life moments of the year so far.


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Posted by JewMitch on May 29, 2009


So last night was my first kickball game in New York. I had been playing dodgeball, but decided to switch for the sole reason that there were hardly any attractive single girls in my league. But I understand, if I was a cute girl, I probably wouldn’t want guys throwing dodgeballs at my face at 100mph either.

The kickball games were held in the lower east side, on a fairly small black top – that was really a parking lot. That still had cars parked in it. But it was fun – because you could kick the ball into the cars or over the fence and into traffic. However, the weather was super shitty – like high fifties and spitting rain.

We managed to play okay despite the fact that a lot of girls on our team didn’t know basic rules (like that you could step on a base when you’re holding a ball to get someone out) and we were so disorganized that we managed to play a whole inning without a shortstop. Still, we lost, and it was raining and afterwards someone else had stolen our pizza (each team gets a pizza at the bar after the game) so we were generally in a bad mood.

This left me wondering why I sign up for team after team and subject myself to this. I’ve never been particularly great at sports – and new teams are always so awkward. The people who know each other from before break off together, and I was sitting there thinking, I should never try to make new friends again. These guys were mostly all younger than me and from Long Island.

BUT then I noticed that one of the flip cup tables had opened up and grabbed it for my team. Within fifteen minutes, everything changed for the better. We were suddenly all best friends, playing competitive flip cup. More pizza came – and the beer just flowed. And while I suck at kickball, I am a reliable anchor to any flip cup team. And I was in the zone last night, hitting almost every single cup on my first or second try.

We reigned supreme on the flip cup table and my memories from the night are a little scattered. Some highlights include – one girl from the team stopping the flip cup game to tell us about all these charity projects she was doing and asking the team for donations. And me cutting her off after 10 minutes by saying, “Yeah, that’s great and all, but this is kind of flip cup time.”

There were some clutch last second wins, more high fives, and I must have drank a ton of beer because I had to get off the subway on the stop before mine, so I could throw up repeatedly into a trashcan on the platform. In front of a crowd. Then I somehow woke up on my couch, wearing just a pair of boxers. Which normally would have been fine, but a few of my roommates friends were staying at the house that night – one of whom I had never met before. So I’m sure he thinks I’m awesome now. But I made it home with my cell phone and MP3 player, so the night was generally a success. And more importantly, I remember why I love kickball. Although next time, I need to remember that when I’m trying to meet girls, I shouldn’t drink 1,000 beers during flip cup. Oh well.

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Flesh Lights

Posted by JewMitch on May 28, 2009


Have you guys seen this? It’s a sex toy for guys, that is made to look like a flashlight. Then you can take the flashlight head off – and viola…. There’s this fake female part for you to have sex with. But what’s really crazy about this product is that it comes in four different styles. There’s mouth, butt, lady (vagina), and stealth. What the hell is stealth? In reality, stealth looks like a coin slot. But who is the guy who is like – oh I’m so tired of fake mouths, anuses and vaginas. What I’m really craving is the ability to fuck some new orifice that doesn’t exist in reality. Something called stealth. It’s like – sorry god, I know you gave me 3 great holes, but that just isn’t good enough for me. I’m going to have to do you one better and fuck stealth. It sounds like a member of the x-men.

Also, I want to classify this as the absolute worst possible product for your parents to find. Just imagine if your mother found this. During a blackout. Because when else would your mother be grabbing flashlights from your room.

So it’s pitch black. And your mom finds your fleshlight.

“Honey, why doesn’t your flashlight work. It’s so dark.”

“Hold on, I’m unscrewing it to change the batteries. It’s so light, it must not have any batteries in.”

“What this? This doesn’t feel like a flashlight.”

“What’s this liquid coming out of the flashlight? Were the batteries leaking? Why does it feel like that inside the flashlight?”

This would then lead to the most horribly awkward encounter you can possibly imagine with your mother. As you can see, you cannot own this product unless you live by yourself and never have visitors ever. Or you have a backup generator in case of blackouts.

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