The Joys of Parenthood

Aside from attending [Private Christian University], I took a course between my freshman and sophomore years at a community college back home during the summer. Giving a better time frame, or to make it a bit more specific, I took this course during the summer I worked at the funeral home where the "Ashes to Ashes - Where Did They Go?!" story.

Now, the reason I took the course online and not at my current university is that I didn't have time to take the elective with current major and minor. That being the case, I decided that taking my fine arts credit during the summer would be a smart thing to do. It wasn't.

The class was simple, basically making me define what a line is and what the colors of the color spectrum were. In the end I ended up with a B. I'm not sure how I didn't get an A, however, I was satisfied that I got my three hours for doing basically doing nothing. Now, the transferring of the credit to [Private Christian University] though, not so easy. apparently, to transfer credits from [Public Community College] to...anywhere, you need to send them a full transcript of all of your grades for them to release their information to you. I failed to see any reason for this and called bullshit. There was no need for them to have that information since I basically used [Public Community College] as a stepping stone, not a foundation for higher learning. They were not pleased.

----ONE YEAR LATER----

Yep, you read right, it's been a year since the course. Now, why all the backstory? Well I'll tell you why: I STILL DON'T HAVE THE FUCKING CREDIT. Oh no, to this day I still refused to send my transcript to [Public Community College] since it's still none of their business. However, that all changed this afternoon:

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The Joys of Parenthood"

Tomorrow I register for my Spring 2010 classes here at [Private Christian University].....hopefully. The problem that would hinder my plans is the ever present cancerous tumor on my mind that is [Public Community College] and their holding my art appreciation grade hostage. After deciding enough was enough I decided to play ball and called the community college for their ransom demands, namely, how to get them my transcript. While I did all this I was in the office of a good friend of mine who just so happens to work for [Private Christian University]. While listening to my troubles she told me to hand over the phone to her when I was done holding to be transferred fr the third time. Not knowing what she was going to do I handed over my phone (on speakerphone) to her and witnessed this:

Phone: Admissions, this is [underpaid employee]. How may I help you?

Sunshine: Hi, this is Sunshine Kroll. I am Michael's mother. Apparently he took a course at your school last year and the grade has still not transferred to his primary university. He registers tomorrow and I was just wondering if it were possible to speed up this process?

Phone: Ma'am we need his official transcript before we can release his grades.

Sunshine: Well, I have an unofficial transcript all ready to go right now if you will accept that until the official comes in the mail. It's just very important that he registers tomorrow for school.

*PAUSE*

Sunshine: Here, let Michael explain the situation

Why the pause you ask? Well, Sunshine, my dear friend, couldn't keep it together long enough to finish the conversation. Now, this is not to say that her FULL OFFICE could do any better. It was nearly impossible to hold in our laughter over her posing as my mother to get my grades sent over quickly. In the end I had to take back the phone, walk to the back of the office, and continue the conversation.

A minute or so later I returned to Sunshine and some of the underclassman in the office, slammed my phone down, and said:

Me: I got transferred to the boss. All I was told was basically, "I'm sorry, you need an official transcript. Bye.".

Let me tell you, Sunshine did not live up to her name after that. SHE-WAS-PISSED:

Sunshine: Michael, you give me that phone and let me call them back right now. We will take care of this and get you those grades.

Me: There is no way in hell you're getting a hold of my phone. Didn't you just see what happened? We could barely hold it in when you dropped your fake name. I seriously doubt-

Sunshine: I can do this! Call them back! I talked to a girl's doctor earlier and pretended to be her mother to get her a better appointment time. I'm sure I can do this!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the end I sent out a transcript request. Unfortunately, Sunshine was able to play the role of my mother and acquire my official grade from [Public Community College]. However, it was a fun de-stressor, at least for me, to see this event unfold in front of my eyes.

Crazy is Hereditary

Now, whenever I tell people my stories off stage they always ask me the inevitable questions:

1)Are these true?
2) Are you really Jewish? (This one I get asked at school. Some students are convinced I say I'm Jewish just to make fun of the religion.)

My answers are always the same:

1) Yes, if you don't believe me, watch this. (What I usually will do when answering this is whip out my phone and call my mom, who's usually the witness to a majority of my tales, at whatever hour it happens to be. She'll back up the validity of the tale and then proceed to ask me if I had been drinking or smoking pot for calling her at such a late hour.)

2) Yes, I'm really Jewish. I believe that religion, whatever belief system, is far to funny of a thing to take seriously.

Now then, sometimes I tell stories that pertain to my family. Once these are done being told I am sometimes asked:

1) Is your grandmother real?

Why do people ask this? Well, here you go:

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Crazy is Hereditary"

My background is very much what you see at a local dog pound in the deep south. My family is from all over and our great ancestors were first cousins. My grandmother is a first generation Israeli who immigrated over to the United States to, according to her story, see the world. She boarded a ship after plowing the fields and helping set up the the nation of Israel, came to the states, met my grandfather, dated for two months, and got married.

Here's what I found out really happened:

My grandmother is a first generation Israeli who was sent to the United States to calm the fuck down. Apparently she was a wild child, who on more than one occasion, would go into Egypt with her friends, under a covered wagon, to smoke pot in the desert.

After arriving in the states her parents sent her to work and live with my great aunt. My grandmother was given the job of housekeeper. Her job was basically to do laundry and set clothes in my cousin's rooms when they were out at school. According to my aunt, she couldn't do this. She would do the clothes fine, and then place the clothes, apparently purposely, in the wrong rooms and then just blame it on the kids. She would also come into work late or not at all at times. (This struck me as odd since she lived in the same house that she worked....). Well, my aunt had enough of this and one day was going to pick up her brother (my grandfather) and had the plan of dumping my grandmother, like a puppy in a box, out on the street.

Unfortunately for my great aunt, her brother and her then housekeeper met. He instantly fell in love with her exotic feel and told my aunt that the woman could stay with him and work at his place. Auntie dearest tried to talk my grandfather out of this arrangement, however, he wouldn't have it. After a while he had fallen in love with my Irish/English grandmother. (Oh, did I leave that part out? Let me explain: My grandmother did, and still to this day does, dye her hair Lucille Ball red. When my grandfather asked her where she got her accent and features from, she told him that she was an Irish/English mixed immigrant.). Two months later, they were hitched.

Now, many people could see this train-wreck a mile away, or on Bridezillas, and tell their friends that this would NEVER work out. Well guess what readers, they ended up staying together for forty-four years before my grandfather passed away. They were probably the funniest couple I have ever seen together. However, we're not to that point yet.

So, my grandparents got hitched after two months of dating in Baytown, Texas. My grandfather was a Jewish doctor, and my grandmother was an unemployed Irish/English/Israeli who smoked pot and lied about children's laundry. It was a true match made in heaven. After the marriage though my time-line gets spotty since I don't know the exact date of events and what happened before my mom and her siblings were born. However, I do know these things for sure happened:

• My grandmother was arrested multiple times for drunkenness and possession (after my mom was born)
• She stopped attending the synagogue in Waco, Texas since they were a bunch of heathens (or something along those lines)
• She was in a major car accident with my youngest aunt (my mom's younger sister)
  
• She only got "clean" when I was born and my mom threatened that she would never see me
• She gets a new car every few months because, "the damn Mexicans don't know that a red dot means stop!"

Now, I love and adore my grandmother. She's probably one of my favorite family members and I look to her with admiration and awe.....mainly because I'm surprised she has yet to get arrested and deported for the shit she did, and still does, to this day. Whenever I visit her and the rest of the family I always ask her about her childhood so I can get stories from her like:

• The time she crashed her motorcycle racing through the streets of Israel
• The time a horse she was riding threw her off and into the Tel Aviv River (I have family in Israel. I've been there three times. There has never been, and there is not currently, a river in the city of Tel Aviv)
• How she was raised in the Jewish ghetto of Israel (First off, the entire country was a Jewish country. Second, she lived ACROSS THE STREET from the first Prime Minister. I visited her old neighborhood the last time I was there. The smallest house was a large, two story house with a guard gate. If she lived in the ghetto then, then I'm living in the projects now.)
  
• The time she went scuba diving with Jacque Custeau
• Her inability to remember a lick of Hebrew (right after getting off the phone with my Israeli family)
  

So, as I said before, I love my grandmother. I have learned a lot from her, albeit some of them lies, and have grown from my experiences from her. I have also learned more, now that I'm an adult, about why she acted the way she did when she was younger. As I look back on my time with her, she's not dead by the way, for those who think that, I also now understand why I wasn't allowed to ever eat the brownies she baked and why I was never allowed to ride in the car with her.

To this day my mom still tries to get me to drive when I'm down there so that I'm not killed in some horrific car crash with my grandmother behind the wheel.

Ashes to Ashes - Where Did They Go?!

Aside from being a full time student, I've actually held down a couple jobs. During the summer between my freshman and sophomore year of college I got a job through my mom at a local funeral home. It didn't pay all that well, however, it was a first job and I needed gas money....to get to my job.......to pay for gas money....to get to my job....(You get the idea). So, my job at this funeral home was that of an usher. I basically held doors open for families during funerals, washed and drove the hearse for pickups at the hospital/hospice/house where the person passed away, etc. Pretty much. I was the $7 p/hr bitch. I was fine with it though since I had a job and something to add to my resume aside from morgue assistant to my mother.

Now, people would think that a funeral home is all serious and morbid business. However, that can't be farther from the truth. About two or three weeks into the job this interesting little event happened that will forever be ingrained in my memory:

My shift started out normal, as normal as one can be dealing with the dead and their family members. After setting up for a service for a family who had just lost their uncle, a young woman came into the funeral home and asked the receptionist for her grandfather.

Now, whenever someone comes in asking for a family member they generally mean to either pick up their personal belongings or their ashes. This time around, it was ashes.:

Receptionist Cher: Welcome to [Funeral Home] how can I help you?
Young Distraught Woman: Hi, I'm here to pick up my grandfather. I was told he would be ready today.
Receptionist Cher: All right, what's your grandfather's name?
[the name is given and us ushers are called over]
Receptionist Cher: Her grandfather is in the back. Can one of you go get him?

One of the other ushers went to retrieve the ashes since I had never done it before. After a few moments the guy returns and whispers into Receptionist Cher's ear that he can't find the ashes. With a wide eyed expression the receptionist asked Young Distraught Woman to wait a moment since the urn is having final preparation work.

*NOTE* Whenever someone tells you this red flags should instantly fly up in your head that something is wrong. Why? Well, when you have a date and time to pick up something, it should damn well be ready.

Young Distraught Woman did not know this rule and just agreed to wait. Meanwhile, myself and the other usher are also called over and we're told:

Receptionist Cher: We can't find the ashes. They're not in the back. Check the offices, the flower room, and if they're not there, check the trash cans in the back to make sure they weren't thrown out.

Yep, we basically went dumpster diving to find a bag full of gray dust. Oh yeah, she completely lied to this woman, the ashes weren't even in the urn that this woman bought. They were still in a large Ziploc baggy......somewhere.

After vigorously searching, and dumpster diving, we were able to locate the ashes. Now, you have to remember, my dear readers, that a service is going on in the included chapel. Why must this be remembered? Well, the uncle being mourned over in the chapel had also been cremated.

I'll give you a minute.

....

Have you made the connection yet?

.....

Yep. That's where Young Distraught Woman's grandfather's ashes were.

Apparently, the two bags got switched around since the people who did the cremating couldn't tell the difference between 34 year old dust, and 84 year old dust!

As soon as the service ended we quickly ran into the chapel and switched the two urns. Luckily, both families were cheap (or poor) and bought the same urn.

Young Distraught Woman got her grandfather, and the family in the chapel finally got their uncle back. Everyone happy. Well, everyone but the people involved in the "man"hunt.

Needless to say. That was one of the best days ever. I went dumpster diving for ashes that turned out to being mourned over by the wrong family.

I miss working there.

Relivin' the Good ol' Biblical Days

Okay, so I've already mentioned that I go to a religious university. I've even mentioned how some individuals can go a tad to far with their beliefs (the guy who tried to give me the bible and the student who was "concerned" for me). However, I have yet to tackle the issue of how religious the collective school is.

Every year my school holds an Easter Pageant. As mentioned in the story "Full Immersion" the students at school get together and reenact the crucifixion of Jesus. It's a huge deal and parents, newspapers, business owners, whole churches, nearly every voice in the Texas Christian community, comes to see this performance that's done only three times in one day, once a year. It's a big deal.

Ever since I heard about this I knew I wanted to be in it. Now, before I go on, this isn't one of those "I saw Christ in the Script and began to believe". Nu-uh. This was "Holy shit! I could be Judas and perform one of the most well known illegal transactions in history!" type of things.

Yep, I wanted to be the "Great Betrayer" Judas Iscariot.

So, I figured to get the part I needed to do what most people in theater have to or should do, brown nose the people in charge. What I didn't take into consideration is that people saw my shows (I ha done at least two more since the "Full Immersion" story) and got the ludicrous idea that I would take this as an opportunity to get new material. I have no clue how that crossed anyone's mind. Well, it was either that, r me telling my roommate that I "wanted to re-write the role of Judas and make him into a real Jew!". I pretty much told my roommate:

Me: When I get the part I'm totally re-writing the role.
CR: (Christian Roommate): What do you mean?
Me: I'm going to make Judas into the true Jew that he was.
CR: How will you do that?
Me: Instead of throwing down the pieces of silver I would get for selling Jesus to the Romans, I'm going to take it and invest it in the first Bank/Deli of Jerusalem. It'll be fabulous! Screw that guilt and suicide BS. I'm going to bring truth to Judas' story!

Well, word got out what I wanted to do. In the end, I wasn't allowed the part on the stupid rule that: The Jesus elected that year picks his own Disciples.

I called hate crime. They called "Protecting the Authenticity of the Story of Christ".

I was robbed. However, I didn't let up? Oh hell no! I kept at it and as of last year, I am now a past cast member of the Easter Pageant! Unfortunately, the Jesus-Elect last year didn't pick me either. Instead, I was one of the Perjurers. What that title mean was, I was playing one of the men who was paid to give false testimonies about Jesus' miracles during his trial. Perfect. Not quite Judas, but its a start.

I got the part in an odd way though. During the rehearsal for the play, rehearsals are at least twice a week, for about........three or so months, I wasn't seeing much of my then, and still current, roommate. Being the needy, slightly paranoid person that I am, I thought I would be able to spend more time with him if I signed the piece of paper saying, "I want to be in the easter Pageant. Whatever role I'm assigned I will carry out with the truth and honesty that Christ showed during his lifetime.". It said something along those lines. Either way, it's been my first signed gig.

I was given the role that most walk-on cast members get: crowd member. All Ihad to do was walk around and marvel at the "miracles" that Jesus was performing. For us itw as turning baby oil to kool-aid. Very exciting stuff here. During practice one day I had one of the "producers" (or whatever the students with power called themselves) come up to me and ask, "Do you want a speaking role? If so, we have a part that was made for you.". I, being the conservative and behind-the-scenes person that I am said, "Why do you ask stupid questions? you already know the answer." Five minutes later I was told that I would be Perjurer #2. My line, "And rebuild it in three days!". My role was simple. I was to play one of the men hired to lie at Jesus' trial. My line pertained to the part of the story where Jesus was supposedly caught saying that he could destroy the temple of God "and rebuild it in three days!". I leaped at the role. Not only would I have a thousand people watching me, but I would have a thousand people watching me tell one of the most famous "lies" ever! It was perfect.

Needless to say the show went off without a hitch and I had a few people tell me I looked to happy to be saying my line. I wonder why? Either way, I had fun.

Oh! I also got an early Hanukah present! It turned out that the Jesus for the '09-'10 school year, was my then soon-to-be roommate in the fall! I was, and am, one step closer to becoming Judas.

If I get my way, come Spring, I'm buying everyone pita and falafel with my thirty silver pieces.

Full Immersion

So many people often ask me why I decided to attend the university that I'm at. "If you're Jewish, why did you want to come here? Aren't you afraid of being converted?". If I had a nickel for every time I heard that question I would be living the Jewish stereotype life straight to the bank. However, the story of how I came to [Private Christian University] is actually quite interesting.

Oddly enough, my mother, who is a much more conservative Jew than I am (Well, she's a conservative Jew who doesn't go to Temple. That's only because the creepy Rabbi there keeps hitting on her though. (That's a story in of itself)), attended this university before me. She never told me why she went here, however, she studied music during her undergraduate days. One day though she had some sort of epiphany and decided to live the stereotypical dream and become a Jewish doctor. (She's now one of the forefront forensic pathologists in the nation) During her time here though, she was nowhere near as......bold as I am. Needless to say, she flew right uner the school's radar and somehow came out unscathed.

So (what a horrible way to start a sentence, I know), when I was accepted here based on my ACT scores, my mother thought it would be best that we tour the campus so I can decide whether or not I would come here. A week later we came down here. During the campus tour, which was happening around the time of Easter, I noticed three crosses set up outside of the school's chapel. When I asked my mom what these were (my exposure to Christianity as a serious religion and not just a denomination of another faith was very limited since I was only accustomed to Catholics (I spent a year of high school in a Catholic school ((kicked my ass)) at the time) she said said:

Mom: Every year they re-enact the story of Jesus' crucifixion.
Me: Wait....they actually put someone up there?!
Mom: Yeah! You should volunteer to be Jesus!
Me: WHAT?!
Mom: Well Jesus was a Jew! You let them nail you up on that cross.

I had no clue what spurred this Jew-on-Jew violence. It wasn't like we were opening up competing banks or anything!

Oddly enough, after this odd insight into this school's religious......fervor, I decided that I did in fact want to attend. That fall I registered as one of the first 100% Jewish students at [Private Christian University]! (Now, before some of my readers ask me how do I know I was one of the first Jewish students, I must say this: Messianic Jews are not Jews. I don't care how many people tell me they have Jewish blood and are Messianic. Messianic Jews, for those who don't know, are a branch of Christianity that hold to Jewish traditions yet accept Jesus as the Messiah. These people, my dear readers, are Christians. They are not Jewish. So to all those students that know where I go and claim to be Jewish like me, yet are "perfected", all I can say is: Suck it. I'm the one and currently only Jewish student here at school. Until another Reform, Conservative, Orthodox (Let's hope not....), or Hasidic (God help us all) Jew steps through the front gates, I'm the stand alone heathen. Y'all cannot share in the title.)

After my first month or so at the school I decided to debut my stand-up at a "talent show" being held by my university's wonderful Campus Activity Board. The show was set to take place during Parent's Weekend. This meant that I would be performing in front of 200+; a majority of whom would be parents of new and old students alike. Yeah, no pressure.

I was given a spot in the middle of the show to do a five minute set. When my act was up I heard the MCs introduce me:

MCs: And now it's time to hear from [Private Christian University's] resident Jew, Mike Kroll!

Yep, I didn't even get to reveal teh bombshell that was my religion to the masses. So, as soon as I took the stage and grabbed the mic from the stand I thought of a new opening line (since mine had just been stolen):

Me: Thanks for the introduction! Yep, I'm Mike Kroll, President of[Private Christian University]'s Jewish Studies and Outreach Club: "Oy Vey".

After the entire audience broke out in laughter, I just ran with it. Five minutes later, I received a standing ovation and even had to stand back up, after sitting down, to wave as the MCs asked the audience for another round of applause.

It was fan-fucking-tastic.

The rest of the show went off without a hit and in the end I placed second. The professional Christian comedian that was brought in as the closing act put me in his set! The act that beat me out was a guy who did a comedic rendition of the story of Titanic. He did an excellent job and totally deserved the win.

After the show, I made my rounds around the parents and shook hands. Oddly enough, almost every person I ran into was either a parent, or a student whose parents wanted to meet me! I qas shocked and could have sworn that they would be pissed, despite the applause. However, every comment I received from them were positive and they said they were so surprised that I had the guts to do what I just did. It was the best feeling ever.

Yeah, that lasted long.

Later that night, after the parents went to see their kids' dorms and whatnot (mine could not make it and has yet to go to one of my shows ((although she's heard so many of the stories I tell))) an upperclassman at the time stopped me in front of one of the female dorms:

Concerned Student: Hey, you were pretty funny tonight.
Me: Thank you. It was a great honor to be allowed to perform tonight.
Concerned Student: Yeah, imagine what would happen if what you said was true though!
Me: ......I'm sorry?
Concerned Student: Well, you weren't serious were you? You're not really a Jew are you?
Me: ....Everything I said tonight was true. I said that before I started.
Concerned Student: So you really are a Jew?! HERE?!
Me: Yep. That was kind of the point of my act.
Concerned Student: Have you ever considered Christ?
Me: Excuse me?
Concerned Student: Don't get me wrong, you were funny and everything, but I'm worried about you.
Me: Why are you worried about me?
Concerned Student: Because you're going to Hell.
Me: .............
concerned Student: If you accept Christ into your heart, you'll go to Heaven, and I'm sure you can keep doing your comedy!
Me: Uhm, I'm Jewish, proud of it, and if I converted, everything I said wouldn't be true anymore since I wouldn't be Jewish. So, I think I'll stick to my faith, tell my stories, and go to the hell that we don't believe in.

Like I said, I'm a very outspoken person. After that night I've always said that I have no problem going to hell because Jews don't believe in it. It's called a loophole. ;)

The Cheesecake Situation

Back in my Freshman year of college I hung out with two main people. One of which was the date that I took the my school's formal in the story "Never Try to Make a Cop Laugh". We were the best of friends and still to this day talk every now and then. One of our soirees into the field of battle against the oppressive establishment, which at the time we thought was the school (We were young, 'twas a mistake.), involved cheesecake and a dumpster.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The Cheesecake Situation"

One brisk, spring, evening myself, Formal Date, and Music Star were all hanging out in the girl's dormitory lobby. We were quite bored, as we usually were during those first two semesters of school (studying rarely happened unless it was finals week back then). As we sat there, pondering our lives away and playing ping pong without the table, we heard that a special reception was being held for some faculty members who were retiring. My friends and I knew these faculty members so we decided to see what the event was about.

After about ten minutes of weighing the pros and cons of this idea we decided to head down to the student lounge. Apparently, we got there to late (according to our wonderful and keen observational skills). Oddly enough, nobody had cleaned up. Instead of a bunch of chairs and dirty plates there were two and a half cheesecakes on beautiful crystal stands, two coffee urns, two or so bowls of chocolate sauce, and some beautiful flatware laid out. Assuming that the party had ended, we decided that it wouldn't hurt if we helped ourselves to one slice of cake. After eating a slice each we though, "Eh, the party's over. One more slice can't hurt.". Cutting into the second cheesecake we begin to hear movement upstairs. Lo and behold, the party hadn't ended, it had yet to start. Yep, we were now indulging on two elderly people's goodbye party, before they could.

In utter shock we looked at each other. Then, we looked at the cake we already had on the plates. Two of us start towards the door, however, one of my friends hangs back. We both look back at her (I'm not revealing who it was as a just in case) and without missing a beat, she picks up the entire cheesecake, glass stand, and stainless steal cake knife, and begins to run towards us and the open door. Knowing that we couldn't discuss this inside, what with the entire retirement party coming down the elevator and all, we all practically fly outside with the stolen merchandise.

Once we turn the corner we begin to examine the situation and weigh out the new series of pros and cons:

Pros:

• We have a whole cheesecake
• We have a nice stand and serving knife

Cons:

• We stole from elderly people
• Elderly people who are still technically employed by our university
• A university that has a police force
• A police force that patrols the campus every fifteen or so minutes

After discussing these, and other, fine ethical and moral points we come to a conclusion: We can't return the goods. However, we can't return them to the girls' dormitory as is. Questions would be asked. Looking about for a means to transport the cheesecake and accessories we stumble upon a dumpster. In this dumpster, towards the bottom, we discover some cardboard boxes that had been thrown out.

Yeah, you can see where this is going.

Five minutes later we return to the dorm with a soggy box filled with cake and a crystal cake stand. Our faces were so stern that people were wondering what had happened anyways. We spoke to nobody and as soon as the cake was safe we all went our separate ways for the evening.

Now that was a night.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Epilogue:

After that night I would frequently ask the friend who stored the cheesecake whatever became of the serving platter and knife. I mean, they were quite nice. She would never tell me, however, I did notice that her car never went without a full tank of gas for the rest of the semester...

The Difference Between Christianity and Judaism

Okay, this story happened yesterday on my way to class. Before it's told, my dear readers, you must know why I titled this what I did.

In Judaism we do not believe in proselytizing. We believe that if somebody wants to convert or even join our culture then they can come do so of their own free will. We do not believe in trying to convert people by walking up to them and preaching, or do whatever other religious sects believe in doing.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Okay, so, as y'all know I attend a private Christian university in Texas. This university is quite conservative, and very religious. However, they don't press their religion onto you if you ask them to stop or make it know that there's no hope for them to convert you.

Unfortunately for an elderly gentleman outside of the chapel yesterday, this knowledge was not very well known, well, at least to him. Here's what happened:

I was walking towards my 9:00 class and decided to cross the chapel and then make a straight line ro the science building (where the class was being held). As I cross the street I see this man, who's clearly in his late 50's early 60's, handing out small copies of the New Testament. When I pass by he asks me if I would like one. I politely tell him I'm Jewish. This is when our short, yet oddly funny, conversation started off:

Proselytizer: Young man, would you like a copy?
Me: No thank you, I'm Jewish. (I was being quite polite for so early in the morning.)
Proselytizer: Well then you especially need one!
Me: (I begin to walk away to 1)hide my laughter and 2)get to class)
Proselytizer: You need to read this to know how the REAL Messiah died on the cross for you! (He yells this out loud since I am a good distance away by this point.)
Me: (I am now irritated by his ignorance due to the fact that: 1) it's early in the morning and I can only be so polite for a few seconds at this time and 2) I was nice enough to say no thank you) I'm sorry, I'm led to believe by my bible that the Messiah has yet to come. The man you're talking about was just another Jew who we sold out for 16 silver pieces!

Needless to say, this was a terrible, terrible thing to say on my part. However, I don't care. Most people on campus know to take what I say with a grain of salt. However, this old man did not. Apparently.....neither did the freshman I was walking next to when I shouted this. His reaction though, was defintiely worth my outburst. The only way I could even begin to accurately portray what he said would be to look up to the sky and mimic him:

Unknowing Victim/Freshman: WOAHWOAHWOAHHH!!! OH NO....YOU DIDN'T JUST SAY THAT! DID YOU?!

Me: ......Welcome to [Christian University]! I'm Mike. (Then I walked off to class.)

Never Try To Make a Cop Laugh.

I attend a private university in Texas. This school is quite religious and very conservative. So, before this, or any story is told, you, my lovely reader, must realize the type of person I am:

I'm a very loud, Jewish (Reform), Liberal Democrat, who tries to make any stressful situation either funny. When I'm stressed or feel threatened I get really nervous and my "language filter" basically evaporates into the ever thinning ozone layer.

Also, especially for this story, you need to know what type of car I drive. During this time, and still to this day, I drive a 1991 Jaguar XJS. It's quite sporty, and quite pretty.

Okay, now we can begin.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Never Try to Make a Cop Laugh"

Every spring my university holds a giant formal dance. When I was a freshman (I was 19 at the time) I decided that this would be a great way to meet people and to hopefully start a relationship with a girl I fancied at the time. Now, when I say formal, I mean three piece suits and lovely dancing/evening gowns. This event is big for my school.

After a few weeks of shyly hinting off to the girl I like at the time that we should go together I successfully....well...succeeded....in getting her to go with me. The evening of the dance I pick her up in front of her dorm and head off to the next town over for dinner and then the dance. The evening goes splendidly. We're dancing with each other, our friends are all there with their dates, and everyone is having a wonderful time. Everyone was drinking the fruit punch, eating the strawberries, and dancing to the country music as if it were the last night of our lives. At the end of the dance we all gather outside of the dance hall and watch a beautiful fireworks show.

Once the show was done my group of friends, date, and myself, all gather in the front parking lot for pictures and final words before we all get into our own respective cars and return to campus. It was quite late at this point for some (nearly midnight), for me it was early since I'm an insomniac. I digress though...

My date and myself get into my car and we begin to drive back to school. About fifteen minutes into the drive, the whole drive takes forty-five minutes (keep this in mind), I change lanes. As soon as I do I see a car with no lights on begin to follow us. I decided this was no big deal, however, after about a mile of this the car becomes illuminated with flashing red and blue lights. Now I thought it was a big deal. I, apparently, was getting pulled over for the first time.

I pull over and instantly begin to think what it is I had done wrong. Unfortunately, I could come to no conclusions and had run out of time, the cop was tapping my window to get me to roll it down. He asks me for my license and registration and then asked me if I knew what I had done wrong. I replied no and was told that I had changed lanes without signaling. Yep, not speeding, not swerving, not signaling a lane change while nobody was within a mile of us. I begin to relax, thinking this would just be a warning or something. I was wrong. Apparently two teenagers in a nice car at midnight, alone, raised some red flags in Officer Justice's mind. The conversation went like this:

OJ: Sir, do you know why I pulled you over tonight?
Me: No sir.
OJ: You didn't signal that lane change a couple miles back.
Me: Oh, I'm sorry officer.
[Officer Justice goes to run my information. He returns after a few moments. During that time my date tells me to be nice.]
OJ: Where you two kids headed tonight?
Me: We're returning to our university after our spring formal.
OJ: Uh-huh. Is this your car son?
Me: Yes sir.
OJ: Are you sure? This is a really nice car for someone like you to be driving.
Me: My mom bought it for me. We're Jewish. (Mistake #1)
OJ: Oh I see. Sir, can I have you step out of the car and stand on the side of the road please?
[I get out of the car. I notice that as I'm closing the door behind me, my date is getting out her phone to text people what it going on.]

Now I have no clue what is going on. I'm in a three piece suit, on the side of a road, driving a Jag, with an extremely beautiful girl in the front seat, who is texting people what's going on.

Anways, I'm on the side of the road. During this whole ordeal I'm still sweating from the night of dancing and my cologne is running. The mix of salt and french cologne smells quite bad and I look a mess aside from my clothes. Well, Officer Justice thought it was something else.

OJ: Son, now tell me again where you're going?
Me: We just got done with my school's spring formal. We go to Private Christian University.
OJ: Okay, was there alcohol served at this dance?
Me: No sir. They're all very conservative and don't believe in serving alcohol to minors. (Mistake #2)
OJ: What is that I smell then?
Me: My cologne.
OJ: Okay, I need you to follow my finger with your eyes without moving your head.

Yep, you read right, at this point I was being given a field sobriety test, on the side of the road, at midnight, in a suit, while my friends from school drove past us, staring.

Needless to say, I flew through the test flawlessly. Officer Justice though, was still convinced that I was intoxicated. So, being the thorough cop that he was (and probably still is) he went back to his squad car, cleared off his back seat (I guess to scare me), and returns with a breathalyzer.

OJ: Son, I'm going to need you to blow into this for me.
Me: Okay.
[I blow. The test comes back 0].
OJ: How did you do that?
Me: Do what?
OJ: Trick the test!
Me: I didn't sir, I haven't had anything to drink tonight. I'm a minor.
OJ: No, you tricked the test! I can smell the alcohol on you.
Me: Sir, I have not been drinking. (I'm getting quite annoyed at this point.)
OJ: Well if you haven't been drinking then what is that I smell?

At this point I was quite pissed off and the only thing I could say to answer his question was:

OJ: Well if you haven't been drinking then what is that I smell?
Me: Sweat and fear!

He was not happy with my answer. However, he did let me return to my car and I was presented with a lovely warning. All the while, my date remained in the car, texting away. After I got my warning and the Officer Justice returned to his squad car I had a wee bit of a breakdown. In front of my date, in a three piece suit, while the cop waited for me to pull back onto the road. As soon as we returned to school and I dropped my date back off at her dorm I walk into the lobby to bid her good night and to apologize, I see my entire group of friends waiting for us. All of them had looks of sympathy on their faces, and one of them opened up her arms in the universal sign language that says, "You need a hug, right?".

Welcome to the Inter-Jewish-Web!

So, being a follower of typical American fashion and trends, I have been convinced that I need to create a blog after seeing the movie "Julie&Julia" (fantastic movie, anyone who likes Meryl Streep or cooking will find this a lovely film). Unlike the movie though, I don't initially know what to blog about. I find this quite sad since I'm a fairly interesting, 20 year old Jewish college student, who does stand-up at my Baptist University.

Well, I should edit that above statement: I didn't initially know what I wanted to talk about. However, given the statement above, I do know: This blog will be all about the odd occurrences that happen to, around, or to people that are associated with me that somehow end up in my act on stage.

Now, to those who have no idea who I am or just to those who don't favor me that much, you will probably say that these will be uninteresting or jsut to odd to be true. Well, guess what, you're wrong. All of these stories are, and will be (for those yet to happen), true. The only thing that will be changed are the names of people other than myself to protect their identities from police, parents, or just public ridicule.

Now then, let's see how fucked up my life really is...................In a good way, of course....