Our popular California columnist shares the latest dish and vacation memories, as well as her thoughts on facial hair etiquette for men.
Such a mish-mosh it was at the Miss Universe Pageant when host Steve Harvey read the wrong name. He said Miss Colombia won instead of Miss Philippines.
I also liked that nebbishy little Mormon fellow who killed himself (Ray Combs). He was not a kisser. But nobody’s funnier than Steve Harvey. Oy, what a kibbitzer. A big hit he would have been in the Borscht Belt.
When Sidney and I went to the Catskills, Grossinger’s is where we stayed. So many of the great ones we saw there: Georgie Jessel, Henny Youngman, Mickey Freeman, Myron Cohen, and not a one of them worked too dirty.
I remember a joke Alan King used to tell: “Why do Jewish divorces cost so much? They’re worth it.” Another one I recall: “Why don’t Jewish mothers drink? Because alcohol interferes with their suffering.”
And whenever our family got together, Sydney would always give the short summary of every Jewish holiday: “They tried to kill us. We won. Let’s eat.”
The shampoo girl at the beauty parlor (Amber or Pauline or something like that) got married and showed me her wedding pictures on her phone. The groom, a not-so-bad-looking bocher was standing beside her with a big smile on his face -- and a five-o’clock shadow!
What? More important things he had to do for his wedding than shave? All dressed up he was, but with the parzef of Hobo Harry.
Sylvia B’s shvegerin told me it’s all the fashion now. What’s next, women braiding their armpits? I say, fashion-schmashion! Real men get their stubble from being away at sea or fighting Nazis in the Black Forest -- not sitting in the club basement playing the Donkey Kong on their Boy Box.