Passover Seder, Sacrifice included...

In my attempt to expose my children to the watered-down Judiasm that I remember as a wee one, I decided to have a quick and easy Passover seder. The event was to include six specific things:

1) matzoh ball soup

2) brisket

3) an elevator pitch-style explanation of the bitter herbs and Moses

4) the matzoh hunt

5) award ceremony and prize distribution

6) a sacrifice, bloodletting or verbal assault to seal the deal

Soup and brisket were served.

Elevator-pitch about Moses and dipping twice...done

Finding matzoh = $5 cash + gummy x-ray fish, check!

And now for agenda item #6

The following un-kosher moments took place in my very own home:

1) My parents cornered an innocent guest who was check on the soup and verbally assaulted her for not watching the news or knowing what deals were out there for the unemployed. She is, thankfully, not unemployed.  I'm pretty sure my dad raised his voice so loud that he spit at her. My mother went to bite her but I inserted a matzoh tam tam with chopped liver into her mouth instead.

2) During dinner my brother announced (in front of my kids and guests) that in the late 80s, he found a video tape of me (1/2 naked and a year away from being legal) which I had made for my long-distance boyfriend in California. Mind you this was pre iChat days and I was 17 years old. My parents called me a tramp and they called my brother a pervert for watching it.

3) I returned the ball by pointing directly to a recent Facebook photo of him in which he too was 1/2 naked AND with a cigarette in his mouth. My mother asked if this was before or after his weight loss (before).  My brother's explanation for taking and posting the photo was something about raising money for special olympics.  Nobody addressed the cigarette.

What smells like diahrea?

I left my home today at the crack of dawn.  I need to get a head start on some projects today and be done by 11:15am when Remi is dismissed from the absurd 1/2-day kindergarten she attends.  I'm seriously enjoying sipping my favorite coffee concoction (espresso, steamed chocolate milk) at The Black Cow and being productive.  Now I smell diahrea.  

Men in all shapes and sizes are lined up at the coffee counter and behind the coffee counter.  Any one of these "go-getters" or "slackers" here for either their commuting coffee or their first time-waster of the day could have brought this smell into the shop. But which one?

Is it the loser in baggy cargo shorts with ankle socks and a boring beige sweater?  Is it the man in a decent suit with a preppy bob that belongs on a tennis lover in CT? Who smells like diahrea??

And why can't I spend just one hour away from home without having to think about, wipe or smell feces?

Life is so cruel. Oh!  I bet it's THAT GUY with the tight khakis with front pleats, mild facial hair and glasses.  HE'S the one who smells like diahrea!  Ok, problem solved. As you were.