Tag Archives: jersey

holly and i both have one shiny fingernail thanks to the hot israeli girl at the mall

if you were a jersey girl in the 80s/early-to-mid 90s who went to “the city” w/your street-wise mom on an even a semi-regular basis, you probably grew up with the following advice:

“listen to me. are you listening? walk fast and stare straight ahead. don’t talk to anyone, don’t look at anyone and don’t make eye contact. AND HOLD ONTO YOUR BAG.” (holding onto your bag was key.)

considering that i got those pointers hammered into my head at a fairly young age, i’ve gotten pretty darn good at avoiding anyone who appears even remotely like a threat. holly, once a western pee-ay girl who used to say hi to everyone and “stare at the crazies” (as she did on our first date almost 10 (!!??) years ago), has followed in my footsteps and now also excels at walking fast, staring straight ahead and holding onto her bag. (psych! you know she never carries a bag! i’m the bee-otch always stuck carrying everything in whatever bag/purse i’m dragging around.)

anyway, the story. so if you’ve been at any mall in the past 20 or so years, you know the hallways are full of these kiosks. jewelry kiosks. family photography kiosks. bath fitter (omg, still don’t get that one) kiosks. (i’d like to take the opportunity here to note that a disproportionate amount of kiosks sell cellphone cases. how does one make a living selling cell phone cases?!) and then there are the hair straightener kiosks. and the nail care kiosks. and for whatever the hell reason i don’t understand, the great majority of these last two are manned by israelis.

oh israelis. i love the israelis. i love israel. been there twice. gorgeous, magical place, unbelievable food. but hot damn, israelis are pushy! it’s their “way.” their “charm,” if you will. they are also disproportionately good-looking. this combination makes them extremely good kiosk employees. almost deadly.

here’s a typical exchange at an east coast mall for holly and i.

(handsome israeli man zeros in on two potential customers. they’re both female. double whammy. we make eye contact for .02 seconds. dammit! this is what my mother warned me about!)

(it’s too late. he’s walking towards us. he singles me out.)

“excuuuuse-me! MEEEESS! [“miss”],” he shouts across the hallway. “meeeess! excuuuuuuuuuuse me do you straighten your HAAAAIR?!”

(of course i straighten my hair! i’m jewish! i want to yell. instead i focus on a an invisible spot across the mall and walk faster.)

“keep walking, honey,” i tell holly w/out moving my lips. (suddenly i’m a ventriloquist, too.) “just. keep. walking.”

MEEEEES! deees will only take a meee-nute! you have very beautiful hair! i make you even more beautiful!” (what he doesn’t realize is that his swarthy charms won’t work on us the way they do on other girls. we are immune.)

“THAT’S OK NO THANKS WE’RE NOT INTERESTED BUT THANKS ANYWAY!” i yell back, trying not to sound rude but failing. i sense holly’s defenses crumbling simply bc she is too nice. i, on the other hand, was raised in new jersey. i grab her arm and drag her. we finally make it out of the danger zone. we both breathe out.

this scenario is repeated fairly frequently. but last week [when we were prowling every hair place in white marsh looking for the perfect product for holly’s hair (don’t get me started, don’t even get me started)] there was a crack in our usual plan. it was…a woman.

we were passing a nail kiosk and a pretty olive-skinned girl spotted us.

“shit honey! she saw us.”

“excuuuuse me!” she shouted. “are you two seeesters?” [“sisters”]

seeing how i’m friggin tired of ppl asking if we’re sisters (hello, we look totally different. but we both have brown hair, are caucasian and under 5’5″ so sure, i guess we look like sisters), i was like, “no. we’re married.” i don’t usually do that, but i figured, what the hell. maybe she’d give up b/c gay girls don’t care about manicures bc we all work on motorcycles when we’re not fixing cars and building ikea furniture. (false, btw. i totally do my nails and hello, i’ve never put together ikea furniture. i get holly to do it for me!)

anyway, i don’t remember what she said, but her accent was so cute and she was so pretty (ok, gorgeous), that, yup, you guessed it. holly and i both stopped.

“let me ask you a queeeestion,” the hot israeli girl asked us both. she knew she had the married girls hooked. “are you reeeady to see something unbelievable?”

“um…yeah?” we both responded. i wanted to run but my legs were glued to the marble floor. i couldn’t move them. it was like a bad dream except not that bad.

she asked to see holly’s hand. i knew what was about to happen. yup, and out came the three-sided puffy nail file (ladies, you know the one i’m talking about). she filed and filed and was talking and talking and honestly? yeah, i don’t remember what she said, just that she was unbelievably pretty.

“try not to yell too loud when you see this, okay? you will simply not belieeeeve dees.”

she lifted the nail file and holy crap, i could practically see my reflection in holly’s nail. then she did it to me while i stood immobilized, unable to tell her to stop or no. when she removed the file, my nail (index finger) was shinier than it’s ever been in my entire life. then she took out some special bottle of oil and put it on our cuticles. and still, we could not run.

“beautiful, no?”

“wow,” i said, looking at my  nail, preparing to tell her that under no circumstances were we going to buy these nail kits. or even one nail kit for that matter.

“only $34.99!” she said, smiling her thousand-watt israeli smile.

“no…it’s ok, maybe next time,” i croaked, clearing my throat.

be strong, i told myself.

“ok! for you, i give at special price! $29.99!”

“no, seriously,” i said laughing. “we’re ok. no, thanks.”

but no. this didn’t work either. she just thought i was playing hardball.

“come here, come into my office,” she told us, moving towards the kiosk chair. and what did we do? we followed her. like little lambs.

“for you, only for you, i give very special price.” (only for me? geesh.)

she tapped some numbers into a big calculator and turned it around to face us. it read $24.99.

this was my big chance to say no. ain’t no way no how uh-uh not gonna buy it. what did i say instead?

i asked if she worked on commission, for her name and told her we’d be back next week. until then, we each have one insanely shiny fingernail. all of this could have been avoided if we’d just stuck to the plan and run like hell.


snookie must use Bumpits to get her hair that huge

NO YOU DID'INT! snookie from mtv's "jersey shore."

that’s what i’ve decided. if you don’t know who snookie is–that’s Snookie, capital S; she’s an actual person tho her nickname makes her sound like a…a cream-filled cookie or something–you must not watch “jersey shore,” the latest reality (i.e. “reality”) show from mtv. holly started watching repeats of it, then the new episodes, a few weeks ago and honestly, it’s like a train wreck. you can’t look away! if it’s on and you’re in earshot of the tv, you have to watch it. more on that in a bit.  

anyway, about that hair. it is. so. high. so high! i keep thinking that girl has *got* to be using Bumpits!  

have you heard of Bumpits? it’s this made-for-tv product to boost up your hair. (ok “boost” is an understatement. it makes your hair look like a small-to-medium sized rodent is nesting in it.) “hair volumizing inserts,” the website reads. “from flat to fabulous.”  

here are some photos for background:  

Bumpits: huge, happy hair. these are the inserts.

the result. i really have no words. (scratch "small-to-medium rodent nesting in hair." change to "raccoon and/or possum.")

anyway, i guess you see my point.  

so about the show. right, so i was all, “oh my gosh, HOLLY. how on EARTH can you watch that TRASH?!” and holly was like, “aw, c’mon babe! it’s awesome!” and then i got sucked into it merely by being near the tv while it was on and now i have to say it’s pretty damn fun. essentially, it’s about goin’ out, gettin tan, hookin up. also workin out. and doin’ hair.  

the cast was on the today show this morning, and they were like, yo, meredith, we’re just a buncha young people havin a good time and gettin tan and hookin up and doin our hair. as for negative stereotypes of italian-americans (ppl have been freaking out that the show perpetuates negative stereotypes about italian-americans), i have to say that if you think all italian-americans are like the kids on “jersey shore,” that’s pretty pathetic. i grew up with about 95 percent italian kids in north jersey (i love italians so much it’s like i’m half a person when they’re not around), and sure, some of them are “guidos” and “guidettes,” but speaking as someone jewish and gay (both minorities), yeah, a lot of jews are doctors and lawyers and sure, some gay women dress a little butch and some gay men may have feminine “affectations,” but not all us are and not all of us do. (plus i’ve met a fair share of guidos/guidettes that are far from italian.) so there’s my rant. get over it. it’s all in good fun.  

transitioning a little, the show has helped my relationship as it gives holly further insight into my cultural background.  

“babe, i’m really starting to understand you more,” she said after the show ended one night. i thought she was going to start a deep conversation. but no.  

 “those girls never shut up! they’re like ‘ba ba BA ba ba BA!’ [she made the universal one-hand-opening-and-closing-like-a-person-that-doesn’t-shut-up symbol as she said this. i kind of felt like slapping her hand down but i didn’t.] no wonder you never know when to stop. you’re a jersey girl!”  

 exactly. that’s what i’ve been trying to tell her all along! that’s my home state, ppl! CAN I GET A WHAT-WHAT! HOLLA!!!

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please don’t slash our tires b/c we’re steelers fans

alternate headline?

“what it’s like being a steelers fan in baltimore”

a.k.a. “please don’t shoot me” “please don’t yell at me” “please don’t paint my car purple” “please don’t choke me with purple-sprinkled dunkin’ donuts”

granted, maybe it was the wrong move to put on the steelers jeep tire cover on holly’s car. aaaaand….wearing my steelers jersey to my ravens-lovin’ office maaaaaay have been the wrong move today. [the longtime rivals will be battling it out this weekend; i don’t know a whole lot about football, but i do know whoever wins will be going on to the superbowl (which i still call the “superball.” i mean, it sounds so much better! whatever. i’m five. i realize this.)]

holly and i really weren’t thinking when we made our weekend plans a couple weeks ago. i’m going to nyc/nj to visit my family. she’s driving to western pee-ay to visit hers. (our first time apart since our wedding! two months ago yesterday, awwww) we looked at each other after the ravens won last weekend like a coupla deer in headlights:

WHAT WE’RE WE THINKING!!!!???? seperating for the final steelers playoff?? and against baltimore?? omG!

at least she’llbe with fellow steelers fans. i’ll be in northern jersey in a household where the last time a football game was on was probably during the reagan administration. so, yeah. oh well. hopefully my parents won’t run out of the house into the freezing cold after i start shouting at the tv. and hopefully i’ll keep it clean. [i accidentally dropped the f-bomb in front of my mom a while back when she was visiting. (hey! i ran over a curb! trying not to hit a personin a parking lot! cut me some slack, ppl! i swear i’m a good kid!) she was like, “JESSICA!” and i was like, “what?!” “do you know what you just said?” “umm…crap?” “no!” (i seriously forgot. i promise you. i think i immediately repressed the memory b/c i knew whatever was about to happen was going to be so painful.) “you said f***!” i don’t know which was more disturbing:  the fact that i cursed so badly (“eff” is a bad one in terms of parents. i’m sure i don’t need to tell you this) in front of my mom, or hearing her say it herself. maybe the latter?)]

and speaking of jersey…

i got a new car last night. japanese! yessss! so i’m cleaning out the remnants of my ’05 two-door chevy cavalier [hey, at least it was a sport model. and had a spoiler. so, yeah. still, it was a pretty lame car. (tho, when i was wearing one of my infamous bandana/frosty lipstick combos while driving, i did, in fact, truly look like a latina gangmember. all i needed were some glowing lights and a chainlink border around my license plate.)] last night in front of the dealership in the cold. and i’m not shedding a single tear about it. just before i shut the door for the last time, i’m like, oh! the cd player!

i press eject and what pops out? bon jovi. “new jersey” circa ’88 (?). that’s my heritage right there! don’t ever tell me i’ve lost my roots! you can take the girl outta jersey, but you can’t take the jersey outta the girl 😉

happy friday!!!