And speaking of Hanukkah and the holidays…even though I am blissfully married to the CUTEST LITTLE JEW BOY EVER, this will be the first year that I actually get to light the menorah and celebrate The Festival of Lights AS A LEGIT JEWESS MYSELF. That’s right, Mein Poppets…ancient family records have been unearthed that unequivocally verify the mysterious, old family lore that was whispered to me since infancy by my Sicilian Granny Rose: That this SCANDALOUS POUND-PUPPY-MON
GREL DESCENDED FROM WHORES, SHITKICKERS, AND THIEVES you see before you — i.e., part Italian, part Greek, part Spanish, part Metseecan, part English, part Filipina, part Irish old tart — is now an OFFICIAL CARD-CARRYING YENTA.
This recent revelation certainly helps explain why I am obsessed with ALL THINGS JEWISH and have been for my entire life — even when I was a little working-class girl growing up in Fresno, California, where, with a population of over half a million goddamned people, there are still only like 5 Jews (and of course, I was MADLY in love with one of them from afar when I was 12: HELLO, BRET LEVY.) With my new ethnic identity firmly established alongside the countless others (What can I say? My family likes to FUCK. A LOT. OF DIFFERENT PEOPLE. A LOT.), Gregory immediately welcomed me to The Tribe — though we are, of course, from DIFFERENT tribes; he’s a fancy, legit, Ashkenazi Jew, while my pipples are, of course sketchy, renegade, Sephardic Jews, i.e., MUD PEOPLE. YET AGAIN.) He hugged me and said, “Just think, Mouse…you’re the same person you were yesterday…except now you just have MORE MATERIAL.”
So…MAZEL TOV, MOTHERFUCKERS!
And, Happy Hanukkah!
And, yes…I am a GODDAMNED DISGRACE.
Oh and for those who are wondering, the delightful photo you see here was taken by the uber-famous, world-renowned photographer, Austin Young. He takes BRILLIANT celebrity portraits — though that is, unfortunately, NOT what you see here. To be shot by him, you gotta be a FABULOUS CELEBRITY…so, if you are merely a low-rent hooker like me, you just gotta take what you can get. Anyway, I just happened to be at Mario Diaz’ AMAZING, GLITTERING birthday party last summer…you know, wearing a knock-off Pucci-print dress and breastfeeding a stuffed bear…and Austin, who just happened to be standing there holding an iPhone, saw a fat, shameless, middle-aged woman with her left tit in her hand and her dignity nowhere to be found. The rest is history — as, too, I shall undoubtedly be for posting this on Facebook. Those who follow me there? It’s been nice knowing you.
Oh, and festive Heeb Pasty thoughtfully ‘shopped by My One True Love.