Time for another Carnivalesque post…

I have to lead with my account of a singles event I went to two weeks ago. (Nepotism? Egomania? Sure. Isn’t that why you come here?)


Last Thursday night, I went on a cruise along the Hudson River with about three hundred Jewish singles. I would have called it a Jews Booze Cruise, but it was a cash bar (the bastards). Here are some random thoughts I scribbled down at the night’s end:

Trapped on a boat with Jewish singles and a cash bar may be worse than going down on the Titanic. Like the old joke, but with no end: iceberg, Goldberg, Rosenberg…what’s the difference?

I would really like it if people stopped referring to Titanic and Gilligan’s Island whenever the boat hit a choppy patch of Hudson. Why are there choppy patches on the Hudson, anyway? Is it high tide in the big city, or did Vinnie from Brooklyn just drop a coupla hundred bodies into the river?

I’m calling that guy over there Bruce Jenner. Why? Because he’s wearing a shirt the color of a Wheaties box, and because when I make eye contact with him, he does the Cross-Boat-30-Yard Sprint in the opposite direction.

Plus, is improv comedy like dating? I think so:

To so many, comedy equals standup — a solo performer on a stage, asking an audience if they ever noticed how funny-sounding the word “kumquat” is. But improv is something else entirely — an unscripted, spontaneous creation of character, relationship, environment, conflict and resolution, conducted between two (or more) people. Kind of like dating.


(Read the rest of my latest Jewish Week column here.)

P-Life contemplates getting back on the ole dating horse shortly after a breakup.

Hilary at Superjux (or as I shall be calling her shortly, the Hotel Hilary) has some dating-related Thursday Things.

Annabel Lee ponders a fortune of cookie origin and copes with an overly precocious niece.

And because I’m off on an adventure, that’s all’s I got for ya right now. More to come next week…

Be excellent to each other, okay, kids?