So those of you who knew me back in the day — or simply had a conversation with me where this came up (as it seems to an an unusually high amount of instances) — know that I was a Spelling Bee champion. In 8th grade, I won my school spelling bee. I went on to participate in the District 25 (holla!) championship, which I also won. I wish I remembered the word. . .I remember spelling it and thinking I had it wrong, but what was it… Hmmm. Anyway, I then went to the New York City Spelling Bee Championship — and my entire 8th grade class (plus my 2 best friends who weren’t in my class, and got slack for it) got to come be in the audience! I received a shiny plaque and an XXL gleaming blue jacket with gold trim, and across the back in gold it reads: Daily News Spelling Bee Champ.

So to bring this story to present day, a few weeks ago I am in someone’s office to work on my company’s Employee Giving Campaign events. One of our events is a Spelling Bee. The guy whose office it was begins to brag about how one of his employees (who was sitting in the office with me) was the Bonham Elementary School in Texas spelling bee champion. As he is gloating, I felt my pride sinking away. In an effort to reclaim my rightful champion role, I exclaim, “I WAS MY SCHOOL AND DISTRICT CHAMPION, AND I WENT TO THE CITY CHAMPIONSHIP!”

Uhhh yeah. Bad move. They then forced me to participate in the work spelling bee against my will. But at least I had my pride. I worked very hard to prepare for the bee. No, I didn’t study. I didn’t review words. What I did was actual work for the campaign. I sat on the floor of my cube and cut ribbon (which I bought myself) and made numbers for the contestants to wear around their necks. I wrote and put together the look of emails and website pages to promote the event. I even took motion sickness pills and elevatored it to about 100 floors to post fliers. Those fliers turned my left boob purple on my favorite work shirt ever. Oh, how I suffered for the Bee.Cut to today - Spelling Bee day! Keep in mind that I do not want to win. I hate being in front of people, I have bad anxiety, I just don’t want to do it.  So my first word is “words.” I correctly spelled it. In the end after a few rounds I got eliminated, more because of the nerves of being up there than not knowing the word, since it was a word I knew and have even used (or maybe just thought about) once. And although I did not win a trophy, I still got a trophy. We were planning on having a Spelling Bee in our Hopewell, NJ office, but only one person there wanted to participate. So we invited him here. And he won. And he left us with two Hopewell trophies. One of which I have in my posession. So if anyone asks, I was second place in the Hopewell Spelling Bee 2007.Also, I’m fat. There was lunch provided and a BAKE SALE there. Someone made the best pound cake ever. I now want to die.And in case you were wondering, the other spelling champion got eliminated before I did! Also, in case you were wondering, she is first place in the Hopewell Spelling Bee 2007. So what’s the lesson here? Just because you can spell in 8th grade does not mean you can spell once MS Word and spell check come out.  

Anyone who has ever had at least one conversation with me in a casual environment knows that I love stereotypes. I think they are very funny — mostly when you can ridicule yourself. So I and explain any stingy behavior away by simply saying, “I’m Jewish.” Today on the bus I had an experience that exemplifies another stereoptype.

When it comes to the books I read, my range is pretty broad—I read memoirs, chick lit, literary fiction, books abour grammar, nonfiction, thrillers, mysteries, and the list goes on…. I will read just about anything you give me, and I will usually enjoy it. Today I picked up a book I’ve been curious about for awhile. That book is Bergdorf Blondes.

Let me start off by explaining that I didn’t go into this book blind. I wrote a newsletter to Literary Guild book club members about Plum Sykes, the author of this book. Contact me if you’re interested in reading that. I also have read her second book, The Debutante Divorcee. And while not the greatest chick lit book I’ve read, it wasn’t THAT horrible. And Bergdorf Blondes was a much bigger book for her. It was a New York Times bestseller, and extremely popular among many women. I like to keep up with the popular chick lit among my peers and dislike being too behind. So I decided it was about time I pick up the copy I’ve had sitting on my shelf and get it over with.I started reading. The first thought that came to my head was, “This is annoying.” The more I read, the more annoying it became. Please allow me to paraphrase a section:

“. . .here are a few character traits you might want to know about me. . .(I’m) always concerned for others’ well-being. I mean, if a friendly billionaire offers you a ride from New York to Paris on his PJ (that’s a quick NY way of saying private jet), one is morally bound to say yes, because that means the person you would have been sitting next to on the commercial flight now has two seats to themself, which is a real luxury for them. . .if someone else’s comfort is at stake, I say, always take the private jet. “(I’m) tolerant. If a girl is wearing last season’s Manolo Blahnik stilettos, I won’t immediately rule her out as a friend. I mean, you never know if a super-duper nice person is lurking in a past-it pair of shoes.”

Aren’t you annoyed? Imagine reading 310 pages of this. I certainly can’t; I stuck it out for a solid 35. I read all about the difference between Chloe Jeans happiness and Harry Winston happiness. I learned about the British aristocracy and the brown signs they post to get people to donate money to house repairs. I read about how the main character not only learned about Brazilian waxes, but uses them as reason #4 why the U.S. is better than England.

I removed myself from this slow torture after reading this line:

“The only sexually transmitted disease I wanna contract is fiance fever.”

I just can’t. I read a LOT of chick lit, I understand how it can be and accept that. I usually love it. I am familiar with the more annoying chick lit, like the Shopaholic series—one of which I couldn’t get through either. And remember, I read Sykes’ second book, so I know her writing and can be okay with it. But this book just isn’t good. In fact, it’s really, really bad. Bergdorf Blondes was a 35 page waste of my time, and I want that time back.

I’ve read some not-so-nice things about Sykes during my newsletter research, and I know she is a snobby bitch who is overly consumed with name brands and name dropping. Bergdorf Blondes is merely a compilation of all the ultra snotty/snobby/obnoxious things she has encountered in her work at Vogue (both British and American). It reads like a list. And it seems like Syke wants to educate the masses on the types of people she spends time with—and the type of person she is. Of course, this book has got to be an exaggeration (at least I hope it is), but the overall theme is clear.

Thank you, Plum Sykes, for using your talent (and you do have talent, as we see through your work at Vogue) to write an annoying book about annoying people who are more superficial than I care to read about. Maybe one of them gets a heart at the end, perhaps in a visit to their own type of Oz, one where people are less fortunate than a department store heir who shoplifts from her own store as a pastime, and gains some redeeming qualities. I won’t read this book long enough to find out.

Please give me back the last 35 pages of my life. Thanks.  

Enjoy this potpourri of message chains. I will label each one accordingly:

Stupidity at it’s best
Read the following Facebook message (that I received when I was well out of school) from the bottom up:

Dori: I really hope that second question was more “conversation” or else you really are an idiot
Michael: lol i know im just making conversation. which year are you?
Dori: Um, why don’t you read my profile before asking me questions that are already answered in there?
Michael: hey cute pictures =) do you still go to baruch?

Dumbfounded… or just plain dumb?
A message I got on MySpace that everyone should see:

Subject: a pro writter?
Body: hey im considering journalism as my job of choice to learn in college. i seem to have a knack for writting and i love covering sports…soo..by all accounts its up my ally. tho at the same time i dont want a real job. i want my job to be pro athlete!..yaa besides the fact that that wont happen…whats it like bieng a pro writter? what do you write about? who do you write for? what are some of the things you gotta do and know inorder to be a pro writteR?

im very curious to know
-matt

Matt, here is my advice for you:
1. If you are serious about becoming a pro writter, I suggest you learn how to spell “writer”
2. You do have a knack for it, and you will be successful in it because you will be the very first pro writter
3. It’s up your ally? As in, the U.S., Russia and the U.K.?
4. Don’t give up your dreams on being an pro athlete

*Disclaimer: Any and all correspondence sent to me is fair game for ridicule if you are a moron

What is wrong with this message?
Subject:HI CUTE

Body:HEY DORY YOU ARE SO PRETTY , GOD BLESS YOU, IAM FROM JERSEY, AND I LOVE OASIS TOO

1. My name: You clicked on a picture with my name above it. You wrote me a message while the correct spelling of my name was ON THE SAME PAGE as the you wrote it, in the “To” section. And yet you still spelled my name wrong. Which means that not only are you an idiot, but you can’t even copy letters correctly.

2. Oasis: Do you really think I wrote that dialogue entitled “British Parliament” to express my views on Oasis? If I loved Oasis (which I don’t, I think they are good though), wouldn’t I list them in my “Music” section as favorite artists? I wouldn’t write a crazy skit about it and post that skit in my profile.

3. Subject Line: Hi Cute. Uhh, did you mean “cutie”?

That is all I have to say about this message.

All _____ look alike
Another real MySpace message:

I read your blog about the Israeli soldier who tried to sell you a phone and buy your iPod….to me that sounds like he somehow just tell someone is Jewish. To me, y’all look like the any other white person…so is there some methodology I don’t know? Are you gonna celebrate Shabbat on March 3rd? I know these things because my apartment is right next to a synagogue.
Mike

Ok, kids. Obviously I can say a lot about this, but the first thing I have to bring up is the fact that this kid took the next Friday that is coming up and acted like it was a holiday in itself. March 3rd. The conversation could go something like this:

“Oh, are you celebrating March 3rd this year?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s Shabbat again!”
“Wow these Fridays come and go fast these days”And what should my response have been? Jordana suggested, “now that you mention it, i think i will celebrate shabbat on March 3, and maybe March 10 too….”

Or…

“Wow! Friday is Shabbat!!! Who wouldve known, I mean, it just totally crept up on me”

And my brilliant little brother said:
“march 3rd
shabbat day
one of the high holy holidays”

Right. Next point: in case I have to clarify for everyone, the Israeli guy on the bus didn’t “approach” me. I had my iPod in my hand and he was sitting next to me. I also had my phone in my hand when he brought that one up. He did not suspect that I might be Jewish or even care. And why would being Jewish or not impact his decision on whether or not to buy my iPod? Or my cell phone? I should have sold the guy my phone in retrospect since it sucks and I just ordered a new one. I probably should have bought a new one from him as well.

And I’m glad you think we Jews blend in with the rest of the white people. That has been our goal for many years. Really since we started the at-birth horn removal surgeries. Once we blend in and can’t be spotted– that is when we can take over from right under the gentiles’ noses.

And this coming from an Asian.

I hate to do too much of the same, but…
Subject:hey

Body: eeeew….IHOP sucks, how can you like that restaurant? Da vince code sucks, too, but Baruch College is the Best. I went there and graduated in 2004. What do you do at the job you hate so much?

I really don’t want to get in the habit of posting messages I get too often… but I got so heated by this one that it stayed with me, and I just had to.

1. IHOP sucks. I think IHOP is delicious– so does everyone I know. It is fine that you don’t like it– maybe you don’t like breakfast food. Or pancakes, which is just weird. But saying my favorite restaurant sucks is not the way to get me to like you. How can I like that restaurant? It’s easy! I like the food there. That is generally how people choose which restaurants they like. And by the way: “eeeew”?? It is fine not to like something “Ed”, but it is downright rude to make such a big deal knowing that the person you are telling this to loves what you are professing hatred for. Get some fucking manners.

2. The Da vince code sucks. You are the first person I have heard of you didn’t like The Da Vinci Code, which is fine. I happen to have loved it, and it is a page turner. That being said, I can totally respect your opinion on not liking it. Although you might want to learn to spell “Da Vinci” before ridiculing it in an effort to make me feel stupid. And this is not a way to get me to like you (which I assume is why you are messaging me in the first place– you want me to like you)

3. Baruch College is the Best. ????? Um. What? I don’t even know where to begin. First of all, Baruch is a CUNY. It is one building. It is a commuter school. It is not even a good school at ALL (unless you are there for business). It is extremely poorly run, the entire school is a mess. That being said, it is school. And I will once again add– COMMUTER SCHOOL. You officially have lost the right to say that ANY school is the “best” if you had to go home at the end of the day to your parents. Another point— IS THIS REALLY YOUR WAY OF MAKING ME LIKE YOU? By saying a horrible school is the Best with a capital B? I feel SO much anger by this one. And it is weird to hate IHOP pancakes but think a school is the Best.
P.S. I’m glad you got such a good education at Baruch that you know that Da vince code is all lowercase (and has an e, apparently), and that random words in the middle of the sentence can be capitalized.

4. The job you hate so much. Where did you get that from? Apparently you didn’t read my blogs where I convey the idea that I enjoy my job (by posting pics of books we have, writing pretend emails, etc)… ok, that is fine. You don’t have to read my blogs, I am actually glad you didn’t. But where on earth did you get the idea that I hate my job? And not only do I hate it, I hate it so much. Wow. That is intense. I am glad you know me so well. Before you write me an idiotic message, why don’t you make sure you know what you are talking about.

And lastly, the newest one. I belong in a Pokeball.
Subject: jesus christ i now i beilive in angels lol
Body: Damn….i dunno how to say this but if i had a pokeball i’d put you in. And keep you..jus cus your soooo fuckin adorbale like those cute ass pokemon cartoons…..but you waaaaay cuter

Thanks to my precious little pumpkin Matt Matt, I finally have my very own blog — well, not counting a MySpace blog and Blogspot and LiveJournal accounts. So actually… I finally have my very own fourth blog! Woo hoo!