hot challah

Real Messages I receive on OkCupid

Thu, 25 Apr 2013 15:34:36 -0700

“I apologize for being persistent, But can you blame me? I truly feel enthralled to offer my friendship and apply for yours, If you are accepting applications or have a open try out. You paint an image and idea of a woman of substance on your profile which is rare in real life let alone on OKcupid. This is my reason for being persistent. I have much to offer and can prove it “IN PERSON” not just online or on paper. ”

How do I strike the right balance between being professional and personable at work?

Wed, 20 Feb 2013 00:23:24 -0800

This is the second question I’ve ever received through “Help Me Hotchallah” and I apologize for take forEVER to respond. I haven’t logged in much and it didn’t ping me that you asked. My deepest apologies.

Let’s see. You ask “How do I strike the right balance between being professional and personable at work?”
This is a fantastic question. I have to say I suck at striking this balance. I’m a chronic oversharer and I don’t know how to be discreet to save my life.

However, why not learn from my mistakes? I think the best balance between professional and personal is to be warm, open and friendly all while maintaining your personal privacy and not sharing anything self-deprecating or embarrassing.

For me, this would mean not talking at all, but maybe you can think of something else to talk about?!

Michael would be so excited if he knew about this @munidiaries...

Fri, 07 Dec 2012 13:54:46 -0800

Michael would be so excited if he knew about this @munidiaries #muni

If you don't know what you're doing you can call it outsider art.

Sat, 01 Dec 2012 15:23:00 -0800

Day 3 of feeling sick. I have taken to the bed. I’ve begun drawing a motley crew of characters. I hope I have a fever dream and they all attend.

fiction as procrastination pt.2

Mon, 19 Nov 2012 08:00:00 -0800

James stood there barefoot in the small kitchen, slouched over the sink, washing dishes. Not only his own plates and bowls but whatever dishes were present. Anyone’s dishes. This had to be a good sign. It was cold and bright outside, the morning light shinning through the window fogged by the heat of the hot, soapy dish water. James’ silhouette against the window’s morning light was dramatic and comforting.

“So, do you want to do anything today?” Helen asked from her seat at the kitchen table, her legs folded up into her chest, her heels perched on the edge of the seat. She hoped he would offer a walk around the city, maybe the park or even a movie. She waited.

“Actually, I was thinking about cleaning up after this and going down to see Rick at the shop.” James didn’t turn around to say this; instead he told these plans to the soapy blue mug in his right hand.

Helen didn’t say anything else. She stared at the stacks of papers and piles of mail overwhelming the kitchen table. Ripping open a few of the envelopes closest to her Helen began to sort the crap from the crucial. A clever way to describe separating things really, the crap and from crucial, she thought. As Helen contemplated making this dichotomy her new personal motto, she realized that opening these letters, bills mostly was not something she wanted to face in this morning. Eventually perhaps, but just not right this minute.

Unfolding her legs and standing up out of the wooden kitchen chair, Helen felt the tenseness of her muscles start to release. “Well okay, I’m gonna go take a shower” Helen told James who had just about finished with all the dishes, “let me know if I start taking to long.”

James didn’t so much as answer as sort of clear his throat as he placed the last of the smaller plates on the drying rack. Helen continued out of the kitchen and around the corner into the bathroom. There she began to undress, facing the mirrored medicine cabinet. Staring at her reflection she began to practice faces into the mirror. Happy. Happier. Seductive. Innocent. She turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat up. In the shower she began planning what she was to do for the rest of the day. Buy eggs, call her sister, do at least the white load of laundry.

Out of the shower Helen quickly footed into the bedroom, leaving wet little foot prints of the balls of her feet and toes on the floor. She turned on the television as she got dressed, watching a sitcom rerun as she put on her socks. As she sat on the end of the bed, her towel wrapped around her hair, wearing only her underwear and socks, James walked through the bedroom door.

“So while you’re out with Ricky I think I am going to run some errands,” Helen told James as she walked to her drawers and began to pick out a shirt. “Do you know what you are doing tonight because there are some pretty good looking movies out right now?” Helen looked over at James, who was going out towards the bathroom.

“I don’t really feel like watching a movie. I will see what Rick is doing tonight.” James replied as he walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

fiction as procrastination

Sun, 18 Nov 2012 19:12:00 -0800

It was Saturday, three weeks after the funeral and Eric and his brother were on the roof, patching up holes and attaching shingles. Down on the street a late model four-door sedan slowed to a stop in front of the row home next door. A real estate agent stepped out of the driver’s seat, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. He opened the back driver’s side door and out slid a slim, brunette woman, followed by an older gentleman. The couple had arrived to look at Mrs. Clark’s home next door. Eric had been fantasizing about moving into Mrs. Clark’s house ever since she died - not out of morbid fascination but because she had a great outdoor porch while Eric’s family’s was small, screened in and perpetually full of broken appliances and boxes of everything.

As the real estate agent stepped onto Mrs. Clark’s walkway, something to the right caught his eye. “Roofers! Roofers! One of your men fell off the roof!” The agent yelled up to the two young men hammering away, a box of shingles at each one’s side.

Confused the brothers looked over at each other. No one else had been helping them on the roof that day. Squatting and shifting their weight from leg to leg, both brothers moved over to the edge of the roof, careful not to slip off themselves.

Down below, half on the small patch of dead lawn and half on the brick walkway was in fact a man. A man, dressed in grey work pants and a brown button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up above the elbows. Yes, to an untrained eye, he would have appeared to have fallen off the roof.

Momentarily embarrassed Eric said nothing. He thought about simply thanking the man for the warning. After adjusting his footing on the edge of the roof Blaise called back to the agent, “Aw, he’s just drunk.”

Eric was stunned, unable to believe Blaise had not only told complete strangers this information but literally shouted it from the rooftop. Embarrassed Eric scaled back to his spot on the roof and continued hammering. Without turning around Eric heard the three visitors get back into their car and drive away.

Neither Eric nor Blaise went down to check on their father. Seeing him sprawled out in that way was nothing new. Besides, it wasn’t worth waking him up. Who knew what he would do if they woke him? Instead they let him lay there down below. Eric decided if anyone else noticed him, he would pretend he hadn’t known his father was down there. Just like when he had to wear his blazer with the hole on the sleeve, he would pretend the damage was new and unfamiliar every time someone pointed it out to him. “Oh, damn! How did that happen? Must have happened today.”

Blaise began to run low on nails and started pilfering from Eric’s small can.

“Run down to the basement, will ya? There’s supposed to be nails down there on one of them shelves.” Blaise asked Eric, pointing at him with his hammer, a gesture that revealed he wasn’t really asking at all.

Caturday: Cats on Things

Sat, 01 Sep 2012 20:12:00 -0700

Who, me? Matzoball doing her best to get in my way and then ignore me.

During my private college education I wrote short fiction about foreskins...

Wed, 11 Jul 2012 17:52:49 -0700

“The newspapers are reporting great, hopeful studies on circumcision in curbing HIV transmissions in Africa. And there is talk of hospitals offering the service at no or low cost, which is all fantastic and very much needed of course. I can’t quite get this next thought out without it coming out as punch line. But every time I read something on this, I can’t help but wonder - what are they going to do with all that foreskin? Can it be used for grafting, for compost?”

I just found about 60 pages of unfinished short stories and novels from college. Is it arrogant to love yourself for writing something? It was only 7 years ago but it feels so long ago that it’s okay to be like “you’re an adorable little weirdo, friend”.

RIP Nora Ephron. We've Always Got You've Got Mail

Tue, 26 Jun 2012 17:42:00 -0700

I just heard that the great Nora Ephron has passed away. Nora Ephron wrote my favorite romcoms, and my all time favorite movie You’ve Got Mail. She brought us When Harry Met Sally and I Feel Bad About My Neck, she was a lovely woman who made fantastic entertainment pieces, dare I say art.

Please enjoy this repost of my post from last year regarding my deep abiding love for YGM.

hotchallah:

“I tried to have cybersex once, but I kept getting a busy signal.” - Birdie Conrad

One of the most underrated movies of all time is 1998’s You’ve Got Mail staring Tom Hanks and what I believe is one of the last performances of Meg Ryan’s original face.

If you haven’t seen this movie you should. It is a delightful retelling of the movie The Shop Around the Corner staring James Stewart and Margaret Sullavan, and a phenomenal feature-length infomercial for Starbucks, AOL and a corporate book store which must be Barnes & Noble.

ALSO, one mustn’t forget it’s place as a time capsule of the early days of popular internet access and AOL. The title itself wouldn’t make sense to children of today, nor would the dial up tone focused opening scene. The two main characters met in a CHAT ROOM for god’s sake.

And yet, I still love this movie. I love Meg Ryan’s childish womanhood. I love her sweater sets. I love the corny dialogue (“Don’t you love New York in the fall? It makes me wanna buy school supplies.”). I love Parker Posey in a small but hilarious role as Tom Hank’s shallow lady friend. I love Meg Ryan’s white walled and book lined apartment. I love how it made me look up Julius and Ethel Rosenberg because in 8th grade I didn’t know who these people were but they sounded like important Jews. I adore how it turned me on to daisies as the best flower and how one short scene made me go out and buy a trench coat which I still have today. I love the weird unfeminine way Meg Ryan walks, no lurks, throughout the entire movie.

I love that I can apply lines from its script to any instance in my life. Boring day at work? I whine. “This place is a tomb. I’m going to the nut shop where it’s fun.” Reevaluating your life’s choices, “Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life - well, valuable, but small - and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven’t been brave?” Someone hogging food at a dinner party? I declare “That caviar is a GARNISH!”

I can watch this movie at any point in the day, in any mood and it fits right in. I bought a dvd of You’ve Got Mail on eBay a few years ago for a $3 and I think it was the most useful thing I ever bought on there - and I have bought a lot of menstrual supplies and bulk toothpaste. I wish I could watch the movie right now because I know I could slide right into it like my college sweatpants with the unfortunately located hole in the crotch but alas, I cannot. Be a doll and watch this movie for me?

A Secret Between Friends and Mulderbosch Rosé 2011

Tue, 19 Jun 2012 19:41:00 -0700

lifetimeandwine:

Movie: A Secret Between Friends
Anorexia and bulimia destroy two young lives
Wine: Mulderbosch Rosé 2011
This sexy, sophisticated and light dry rosé possesses a beautifully fragrant nose, and offers alluring aromas of rose petal, wild strawberry, and raspberry. It’s just like the type of Bath and Bodyworks bodysplash that an anorexic highschooler would wear. Plus, it goes well with fruit and light fish which are easy to purge.

A Secret Between Friends depicts the roller coaster that is life, as a young healthy high school girl named Lexi befriends a classmate with a Class A eating disorder. Lexi (later Lexi-Annorexi) learns the tools of the trade and becomes deathly ill after a semester or two of starvation coupled with binging, purging, volleyball, and dating. Meanwhile her self-harm is also torturing her loving mother (played by Wonder Woman or as she is sometimes known Lynda Carter.) This movie is a go-to classic Lifetime Network Original and is best paired with a light wine such as the Rosé listed above.

hotchallah:

But don’t just take my word for it!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z7VmB6phCtc

Are you aware of it: How to Rube Goldberg your own coffee mug

Fri, 25 May 2012 10:13:00 -0700

Coffee mugs are for suckers. They are too easy to come by and EVERYONE HAS ONE! So, in the insufferable spirit of DIY and the Green movement I have decided to make a simple thing difficult and instead of purchasing a coffee mug I have made one from scratch.

Are you aware of it? How to Rube Goldberg your own coffee mug.

1) Purchase some organic nut butter. The nut butter must be organic otherwise this won’t work. The butter must also be in a glass jar because plastic WILL KILL YOU AND YOUR FAMILY and not even in your sleep. Plastic kills you during your favorite tv show right before “the big reveal”.

2) Eat all of the nut butter. I prefer to do this with a spoon while standing at the kitchen counter. If you don’t hate yourself, you could instead use it in a sandwich.

3) Wash the jar well. Remove the label with hot soapy water. Not too much water, leave some for the polar bears.

4) Collect the blue rubber bands from broccoli and asparagus. You will need around 10 perhaps, depending on the size of your jar.

5) Wrap the jar in the rubber bands.

6) Pour hot or cold liquid into your new mug and enjoy!

HIDDEN BONUS: You can tuck the tea bag tag into one of the rubber bands so it never falls in! When that happens to me I just want to kill myself.

Now you’re aware of it!

Beloved Anti-Semites Revealed! Pt. 2

Thu, 24 May 2012 22:32:00 -0700

Previously, I touched on the relatively known anti-semitism of one, Coco Chanel. Today, I inform you of another oft-loved Jew hater, our childhood friend: Roald Dahl.

Roald Dahl wrote popular perverse children’s stories after a failed career of writing unpopular perverse adult stories. If there is anything I love, it’s someone who uses their writing to be innovative and slightly inappropriate. However, Dahl’s books were so inflammatory they often had to betoned down in their racism and perviness by some brave editors and publishing assistants to whom he owed his later popular success.

Before I move forward, I don’t think people should stop reading his books, I loved them growing up. Matilda was totally my jam in Mrs. Garret’s 4th grade advanced reading class for unpopular kids - in fact my mother still has my book report in the attactic somewhere. I do, however, have a hobby of discussing Nazi-sympathizers and think it’s important to talk about who they were.

I will just let the best anti-semitic quote I’ve seen in a while, as told by Dahl himself to a journalist, speak for itself:

“There is a trait in the Jewish character that does provoke animosity, maybe it’s a kind of lack of generosity towards non-Jews. I mean there is always a reason why anti-anything crops up anywhere; even a stinker like Hitler didn’t just pick on them for no reason.”

For further, more professional, writing on the matter, please read this great post by Alex Carnevale which I think is the best summary of the man that I’ve read online so far.

Photo

Wed, 25 Apr 2012 10:02:18 -0700

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Tue, 24 Apr 2012 20:29:58 -0700

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Mon, 23 Apr 2012 23:17:46 -0700

How do I give a blow job to a boy and make him like me?

Thu, 12 Apr 2012 11:11:00 -0700

This post is in response to my first ever question through the “help me hotchallah” question link at the top of this page. It may be spam but in case it is sincere, I’m answering it seriously.

Dear Anonymous,

Where to begin. I’m assuming that you are at least 18 because if you aren’t I don’t want to talk to you about this. Get a non-sexual hobby and work on making yourself an interesting person. Or study for the SATs or something.

First of all, blow jobs will not make a boy like you, they are not magic.

If bjs made boys “like like” you in a way that mattered or lasted then no one would be single and broken hearted…ever.

Never ever give a blow job to a boy who hasn’t already demonstrated that he likes you if you like him – this will only end in hurt feelings.

I’ve never been one to give out blow jobs freely because frankly, I’m not one to give out awesome presents to people who don’t demonstrate respect and adoration of me. I also really don’t think a bj is any less important than sex. If you don’t feel ready to have sex with someone, are you sure you’re ready to put your face up to their junk and pleasure them? Does the word pleasure make you uncomfortable? Would you use a condom? Is this boy sexually active? Do you want oral herpes on your face like Katie Holmes? These are things to consider.

I’m not a puritan dear Anonymous, it’s okay to have the sexy-time with people you don’t have loving feelings for, if that’s what you both want and you are being mature and responsible about it…but that is not the case here since you clearly want this boy to like you.

What makes a boy like you is being a badass awesome lady who is smart, funny and confident. I am all these things and sometimes boys don’t like me! But you know what? I usually realize they are dumb assholes!

- Hotchallah

that is all.

Mon, 26 Mar 2012 09:02:12 -0700

that is all.

Interior Decorating the Hotchallah Way

Fri, 23 Mar 2012 15:10:08 -0700

Over the past year I accidentally started collecting plastic animals. Knowing this, some of my closest friends have brought me or mailed me lovely animal figurines. This picture is of the current animal parade now taking place on my fireplace mantel.

How "There's Something About Mary" Warped the Ideal Woman

Thu, 22 Mar 2012 10:14:51 -0700

Continuing my series on HOW MEDIA I WAS EXPOSED TO IN MY ADOLESCENCE FUCKED ME UP

I want a guy who can play 36 holes of golf, and still have enough energy to take Warren and me to a baseball game, and eat sausages, and beer, not lite beer, but beer. That’s my ad, print it up. - Mary, describing her ideal man…and basically herself.

The hot and steamy wet dream of the Farrelly Brothers that is the titular character Mary in There’s Something About Mary ruined womanhood for my generation. Cameron Diaz’s Mary set a subconscious standard of behavior and beauty in my adolescent mind that cannot be reached by any normal human being. Instead, this unreachable awesome that is Mary, has and will continue to stunt the growth and potential of any young person attempting to replicate Mary’s qualities. It will also sorely disappoint any young man who thinks there are more than a lovely handful of ladies this amazing.

I will never be an — outrageously gorgeous, tall, blonde, blue-eyed, sports loving, hot-dog-on-a-stick-eating, golf playing, football watching, full-calorie beer drinking, skinny upper arm sporting, flat ab rocking, baseball admiring, adorably laughing, philanthropically participating, patient with the cognitively impaired doing, gorgeous skin having, free spirited Miami living — orthopedic surgeon in my early 30s with enough free time to hang out as much as our girl Mary.

I will never be most of these things. And I’m okay with that. Really. I’ve talked it out with my friends. I get it. I’m going to be okay.

Don't play the end of the scene

Wed, 21 Mar 2012 13:56:16 -0700

I don’t pretend to espouse self-help techniques (well, except that Kahlua + almond milk heals all wounds) but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to share with you all this little nugget: “don’t play the end of the scene.” This great line came from my friend Leigh who works at the Arden Theater Company in Philadelphia.

Apparently, in the theater and in improv ”don’t play the end of the scene” is one of the most common rules - it means don’t react before you’ve received the communication or until the scene gets to the end.

“Sometimes actors enter a scene prepped for what they know is coming – the emotional breakdown, the knock-down drag-out – and they bring that negative energy into the scene before the conflict has even begun. It lends an unnecessary weight and edge to what is actually happening in the moment.” Found Here

Obviously, this is great advice for all of us onstage or off. Let yourself live in the now, without guessing or worrying what doom may come. Don’t starting predicting the future (especially if it’s negative)! We all know the “what ifs” are bad but I found this tip to be a new way to remember not to let our worries for the future ruin the right now.