Readers of the Month – July!
Yes, you read that correctly, it is not a typo, there are two, two, two readers of the month this month. On the other hand, I’m told marriage is about unity and so I considered making them just “Reader,” but, well, for purposes of inflating my readership totals, I’m double counting them.
So I owe my two readers of the month a joint apology. Seriously, they read my blog more than I do, I think. Each of them. But when you combine them, they simply set my stalker stats on fire. So why weren’t they first, you ask? Well, being the smart, urbane couple that they are, I assumed they would be above mere wacky tributes. But they weren’t!
OK, OK, enough with the intro; it’s Celia and Alex! You may know Alex as Alex526, a name he uses to distinguish himself from the other 525 Alexes who frequent my site. Celia leaves more comments but Alex sends me e-mails where he writes pithy responses which are too good for the likes of you to see. Celia and Alex get what I’m talking about more than the average J-Ball reader being funny and Jewish and half former New Yorker (that’d be Celia).
Now, I always know when I ask for pictures, someone’s going to slip in a Red Sox logo, since I don’t alter people’s photos. Yep, there we are. But I don’t hold grudges. See? I arranged their photos so they’re sort of gazing into each other’s eyes. Lovely.
I did have the pleasure of meeting the ROTM couple a few months ago (they have the good taste to live in the Balto-DC corridor, and if you’re a regular here you know that earns you gold stars in my book, if I had a book). I have to admit, they’re so sharp and interesting, I kind of lost my ability to speak. I hope they’ll accept this as some sort of proof that I have the ability to string two words together. The Internet is my friend.
But more on this fine couple. The Joneses (their name has been changed to protect the J-Ball obsessed) have two lovely daughters and when not hitting refresh on my blog, the whole family enjoys fighting fires for fun and profit. At least that’s what I assumed when they sent me this. Don’t disillusion me!
Lastly but not leastly, no family is complete until God sends them a dog. I wish I remembered the story of how that actually occurred but, well, a picture’s worth a thousand words that I can’t recall for the life of me. Perhaps Celia will tell it in a comment or Alex will send me a witty e-mail about it.
I already like this dog, though, because it’s too small to kill me and has the same baffled expression on its face that I have when someone tells me they like Maroon 5.
So congrats to Celia and Alex, the first ROTM twofer in J-Ball history. And even though you weren’t first, you are the first on the new J-Ball incarnation, which Alex still reads despite the flowers. May I continue to shep naches from your Internet surfing!
As is my standard M.O., I asked Celia and Alex to choose a song or two for themselves. Knowing a bit of their taste, I was surprised and delighted to find their choice was a song by Bow Wow Wow, whom you may remember from the worst song they ever did, “I Want Candy.” But I shouldn’t have been, really. Like any devoted couple, they wanted a tribute to their child.
Truth to tell, I was going to ask Celia to take a new picture of me with a Washington Nationals cap. But we ran out of time. I love the Sox, but I don’t want to quarrel with Becca, who taught me that gloating in sports is declasse. Becca, if you wish, you have my consent to Photoshop a Nats cap onto my head, and redo the picture.
Also, Becca, are you suggesting that God didn’t send EVERYBODY an elderly, toothless, unspayed, ill-tempered chihuahua? I thought it was some kind of mass mailing, or something.
Yay! I knew I’d get through with that gloating message. And I don’t have Photoshop just yet. This is why no one’s picture gets altered, not out of any benevolence on my part.
Well, actually, I assumed someone else prayed to God to take away their elderly, toothless, unspayed, ill-tempered chihuahua. There’s a flip side to every coin, you know.
My dog could kick your dog’s ass.
😀
Congrats to Celia and Alex! I’m not jealous at all, really I’m not.
P.S. That dog picture is killing me.
Jan, only if your dog can get under my bed. ‘Cause that’s where my dog spends most of her time when strangers are in the house. But would it even be wise for your dog to pick on a Chihuahua Sent By God?
KP, just watch out for pictures of Jan’s dog. They could be somewhat menacing.
Jan’s dog is already on this blog. I dare you to find him.
My first blog reading in a couple days and YAY! ROTM! YaY! “Who is it going to be?” I ask myself. Too impatient to read, I scroll down to the picture section and, and, and, I KNOW THOSE PEOPLE! I’VE MET THOSE PEOPLE! I’VE SHARED CHIPS AND HORSES AND DOGS AND BUNNIES AND POOLS WITH THOSE PEOPLE! And how exciting to put a face with an elderly, toothless, unspayed, ill-tempered chihuahua story.
Excellent choice, my JewBall friend! And a fantastic way to bring AlexBunchaNumbers out of e-mail eternity and into the Blog Commenting world! My night is complete.
Hi, Steph!
Jan, I finally located your dog. I think I might have the only dog in America that your dog can pick on! Which could spell trouble for my dog, ’cause it looks like your dog COULD get under my bed.
Now you know why I had to gloat, Alex. There are few dogs in the universe that my dog could take on.
Congratulations. Really, I’m happy for you. No, really, I am. I don’t want to be ROTM anyway. Not like Becca would ever pick me. Red Sox fans are one thing, but a Mets fan? Beyond the pale.
And I no longer have a pet like God’s Chihuahua. My own toothless, ill-tempered, cat-hating cat, Lauper, who refused to come in the house for two full years because there were *people* in there and so spent her last two winters crouched under the hot tub deck, finally passed away at the age of 18. Now we only have Dave, the cat who thinks he’s a dog, and Tinkerbell, who is pretty to look at but drools when petted.
I think I might start having to have a “Reader of the Day.”
The Chihuahua from God story
My daughter is studying for her Bat Mitzvah. Her Torah portion is from Deuteronomy, and contains the following passage:
If you see your fellow’s ox or sheep gone astray, do not ignore it; you must take it back to your fellow. 2 If your fellow does not live near you or you do not know who he is, you shall bring it home and it shall remain with you until your fellow claims it; then you shall give it back to him. 3 You shall do the same with his ass; you shall do the same with his garment; and so too shall you do with anything that your fellow loses and you find: you must not remain indifferent.
Well, it came to pass that my daughter and my husband were at the home of the rabbi who is tutoring my daughter, and the rabbi’s children had found a stray dog which the rabbi convinced my husband to bring home with us until the owner could be found. Under the circumstances, it was difficult to argue…the circumstances being 1)the remarkable coincidence involving the text they were studying (lack of specific mention of Chihuahuas notwithstanding) and 2) my daughter’s all-consuming obsession with dogs and constant pleas to adopt one. The idea was to bring this dog home to see whether we would mind having a little dog around. (I already knew I would mind having a big dog. Sorry, but I hate dogs.)
Of course, it turns out the owner was never located, and we are stuck with this ridiculous dog. We even tried “re-homing her†via Craig’s List, Freecycle, various rescue groups, etc….no luck. Fetching as she may be to look upon, she is no charmer. She only lets certain people approach her or touch her. (I’m not one of them.) She literally screams if she is picked up. She barks at visitors or anyone encroaching upon what she regards as her territory, which she defines as “as far as the eye can see.†This means the neighbors across the street, standing on their own porches or lawns, are on her territory. And best of all, she decided that the corner of the dining room was her “spot.†So now we have baby gates up to keep her out and are planning to put down hard wood floor. (I accuse my husband of orchestrating this whole thing to get hardwood floors.)
I kinda wish we had found an ox or a sheep or a garment instead.
See I get that, because I also scream when I’m picked up. But I do feel better about not sharing the story, as you tell it way better than I ever could.
If we’d found an ox or a sheep, I’d need MUCH larger plastic bags. A garment would’ve been good, though.
Was I supposed to pass my tiara? Because I’m not giving it up.
Gong!
Soxy, if your tiara has a red “B” in the front, you can keep it.