Passover is one of my favorite holidays, not only because of it's gruesome/ cool background, but because of the celebration. Passover usually entales good food, good company, like most other holidays, but other stuff too. Passover has a long ceremony, called a seder, in which we read from prayerbooks, called haggadahs, and sing songs and have long side conversations. Alltogether a nice thing, but a bit tedious. The glue that holds the thing together is the wine. If you have ever drunk kosher wine, you know what I'm talking about. It tastes like crap in a blender served with sugarcubes treated with guilt. It's not the most pleasurable thing. The main idea of the seder is to get so drunk that the wine tastes good, and you know all the words to the songs, even if you have never heard them before.
Now this holiday, sadly, comes only once a year. It's a great time for family to join together with friends and such, so if you miss it, you are S.O.L. This is my sister's first year at college, and this week she has had exams that she cannot miss, ergo, she must forget about coming home and dovening with her family. I love my sister dearly, but, odly, she was not missed.
I had the pleasure of sitting across the table from two very attractive women: Ryah and Devin. Ryah and Devin are backup singers for a Bob Marley cover band, blond, and young. All very good points. About halfway through the Seder, it was brought to my attention that, even though Devin is in college, Ryah is a junior in highschool.
"Be still my beating heart!" is what I said when I received this news. Well actually, I said "Be still my fluttering--aching--sominthing, you know." as this was halfway through the seder, and I had already had several glasses of wine.
I know that in any other situation, she would have not even given me a second look. Thank God that we were at a seder, and "forced" to go through this agony.
I know the length of my memory, and so I knew that if I didn't write anything down, I would forget the whole thing ever happened-- that is, unless I had a pop-test on it at some point in my career.
So here I am, at 1:15 am writing it all down, and I thank my stars that I went to a school that taught me how to write.
Ok, fine. here's your stupid comic. It's a crappy copy, so sue me. or not.
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