Happy Birthday!

This one is for my mother, who reads every post and is smart enough to never, ever comment.



LIKE Me – Please!

I am a humble, undemanding blogger. Week in and week out, for the past sevenish years, I have toiled to present you with quality kvetching on the vagaries of being single. I have lanced relationships and the chance at a cat-free future in order to blog for you on the subject of dating for perpetuity. I place no ads of my own (what you see is from WordPress), nor attempt in any way to monetize you, my dear readers. I ask nothing  except that every few years you send me on a trip.

Last time it was Israel. You voted me in as the popular choice blogger to accompany and liveblog a Nefesh B’Nefesh trip. This time my request is less spiritual and tax-deductible.

Please send me to Switzerland.

I received the following email in my inbox this morning:

Hi Mr. Bad For Shidduchim 🙂

I am a fan of your writing and thus reaching out because one of my clients has started a competition for Jewish writers. It’s a chance to win a week-long vacation at the only 4-star, 4-bedroom chalet-apartment  in the picturesque car-free resort of Saas-Fee in the Swiss Alps, Switzerland . Plus it’s Kosher!
It’s simple to apply: – be creative and describe in a comment why you deserve this vacation. 
If you are interested, see the link below:
Thanks very much!
Ben Heligman
Marketing Assistant, J-Town Internet Services Ltd.

I’m a little bit skeptical that a “fan of my writing” doesn’t know that I’m not a Mister. But I’m stifling that because if this is legit, I want to be in on it. This appears to be a publicity stunt for a kosher Swiss chalet, and they want us bloggers to compete in a fierce, pen-slashing competition for the honor of being their publicist for a week.

I’m in!  My gauntlet is down! My pen nub is sharp.

But why do I need this? Why should you follow that link and “Like” my comment?

(1) Well, consider pure charity. Here I am,  a lonely old spinster, with no husband, no children, not even a cat to give me love or joy. Nothing but the daily grind of work, and coming home to a cold, empty apartment at night, where I’ll sit, despondent, next to the phone, waiting for shadchanim who never call.

I’m having trouble keeping a straight face here, but you can’t see that. So pity me.

(1)b …And give me an opportunity to date a European. I’ve been out with so many Americans unsuccessfully. Maybe it’s the breed. Maybe it’s time to sample another continent.

(2) Alternatively, I can promise you compensation. I will write inspirational posts drawing lofty metaphors between cloud-covered peaks and endurance dating. Or maybe less inspirational posts about secret bank accounts and shidduch profiles. It all sounds a little half-baked right now, but I’ll work on it from the chalet. Promise.

(3) Personal development is important, and goodness knows I need some. For example, I don’t know how to ski. Help me work on myself to become a better, more rounded person, the sort that would be able to strike up a conversation with another single on a ski slope.

(4) Save me from becoming a crazy cat lady—send me where I can get buried in an avalanche and rescued by a Saint Bernard with a casket of alcohol. Seriously, what does an older single need more than the love and snuggling of a big furry drooling dog and a keg of whiskey? Bliss. Crazy dog lady sounds so much cooler.

(5) And finally: Swiss ice cream meet, anyone?

Jewish Mud Runs?

Chai Lifeline has probably done more for the health of the Jewish community than any (non-existent?) health awareness drives. Granted, we still eat too much chulent Thursday night. (Any chulent Thursday night is too much, imho.) But many people are choosing to pair their charitable efforts with a push at fitness, raising money and racing at the same time.

Right now would-be contributors have a choice between running a marathon and a Lake Tahoe bicycle century.  This is not, I think, enough options. I mean, it’s all lower body! It’s great for a Jew to be able to leave an area fast, but honestly. Maybe we’re a stiff-necked people because we don’t exercise our shoulders enough?

Which is why mud runs are such a great idea. Yes, you’re running. But only between obstacles. Mud runs require a well-rounded fitness level, so you can crawl through tunnels, climb ropes, nets, and walls, scramble over hills of straw or tires, swing across monkey bars, and swim under buoys.  Sounds like fun, right?

Alas, few of them are on Sunday.

Which got me thinking: wouldn’t this make the most amazing chol Hamoed event?

You know, a thematic mud run: Escape from Egypt!

Participants would start out scrambling over a field of straw. They have to haul an oversized brick up a mountain, slide down into a pit of cement, and scramble out via cargo net over bullrushes. (Yes, I’m mixing things. Don’t quibble.)

From here maybe you’ll have to climb a pyramid, dodge Egyptians trying to hit you with (padded) sticks (the children of runners can take this part), and swing hand-over-hand across a row of staffs. (That one needs work.)

Maybe from here you’ll have to duck into a dark tent and scrabble in the sand for some gold. (Find a token and you’re eligible for four cups of win at the finish! Okay, maybe that’s not such a great idea. You come up with a better one.)

You should probably have to catch a goat at some point, but to keep PETA away, we may have to go with a lasso/ring toss type of thing.  Then: can you get through Egypt’s border defenses without breaking your matzah? Think tunnels, cliffs, barbed wire, moats… If you have issues with gebrokts, maybe you’ll want to wrap your matzah in a garbage bag.

Demonstrate your emunah by wading into the Red Sea — and if it splits for you, consider that an automatic win.  For the rest, consider swimming.

Think you’re done? Uh uh. You have to do a little dance with tambourines first while singing Az Yashir. Then off you go, dashing across the hot desert to a water station… which is salty. (Hey, complain to God, not me. …wait, I sounded like Moshe there, didn’t I?)

Dash up a flaming mountain to retrieve your stone tablets, and please don’t comment that it looks like the brick you hauled up there earlier in the race. This is all metaphor, and we don’t have any other slaves to haul things up and down hills for us.

But whoever is playing God up there isn’t giving you your tablets unless you first recite what’s supposed to be written on it. (Go on: can you? Can you? Okay, just sing the Mah Nishtana and get out of here you shameful Jew.)

Anyway, if you make it back to your encampment, you can get your crowns. All finishers receive complementary sticks of marror.

It needs a little work, but I think there’s something there.

Anyone want to produce it, please, please?