BARN DANCE

“Rachel, you and James should go to a barn dance together. Tell James I have a bandana he can borrow!”  - Deb.

It’s nice that my mother tries to contribute to my love life. But socially I think she is inept. The highlight of her months are her book club nights. And yes those only happen once a month.

See, here’s the thing with American parents; some are the “cool” kind and some are just ridiculous. 

I know many who are fortunate enough to be graced with the cool types. The cheerleader marrying the football captain with cheerleader graduating with a degree in fashion and the football captain going on into business. 

Sometimes I wish my parents had more friends. 

“Rachel, I really wish you played lacrosse instead of singing in choir. I played lacrosse and it got me so many girlfriends!”   - Mike

“Rachel I was so cool in high school and college. You just don’t believe it. I was on the mathletes, I was treasurer of my senoir high school class AND I participated in intramural gymnastics.”   - Deb. 

In British terms,

Treasurer= The poor kid who has to count up money for charity events and shit. 

Intramural= A team that is too crap to be coached by an actual sports teacher.

Barn dances would be a laugh, let’s not lie. But then so would trips to the Natural History Museum and watching animal mating documentaries on the nature channel. But those are things no one admits they’d wish to do. 

-One time in biology our teacher showed us a video about Lonesome George the turtle in the Galapagos . He was the last of his kind and the biologyistical people were trying to find ways of continuing the giant turtle species.  Just as the video was about to show a hired porn star toss off George to collect his male sperm to make more lonesomegeorge babes, the teacher bloody turned it off.   Pa-

Snow Snow Sno.w has finally hit us. As I tredge through the snow (yes I just made up at word I’m fucking Milton init), I realise how snow can be a brilliant ass toner. I took an hour walk today to my best friend’s sauna and by the time I’d reached the top of the hill I could literally feel my muscles burning.  Felt the burn baby. 

Go walk in the snow. But don’t wear normal shoes because that would be stupid.  Wear the cool kind that your parents make you wear. The kind that hikers in Australia wear when they don’t want to be bitten by jungle snakes.

            I hate snow. 

Today in choir I was asked to do a solo. OMGWOWSOLOREALLYNOWAY No. I was asked to read out a line of Hebrew in a song that didn’t even have a bloody melody to it just because I happened to be the only jew in the room. 

And so 

I whispered it seductively as a joke and was told by the choirmaster to sound more dramatic. Next week it’s interpretive Israeli dance move time,    you dickhead. 

(lol jokes lusms I'm singing in jazz band thurs come watch n show sum luv n tingz)

v.LOG  coming soon...

DREAMS

My Auntie called me on the phone today and told me to post pictures of my parents after my "financial letter" so that people realise I am telling the truth. A photo of my skinny mother with my dad who regularly gets mistaken for a hobo. What a joker eh 

AnyVES I have some pretty crazy ass dreams. Especially if I go to bed drunk. I even have the ability to dream when I am awake. I can have Ice-Dreams *copyright alex briggs where I dream about ice cream whilst wide awake. It's totally MAD. 

But I’m talking about the kind of dreams that people have when they grow up. Dreams for future life. Aspirations. Wishes. Shit like that.

I’ve always wanted to be a ballerina. Ballerina’s are beautiful.  But then I was told that ballerina’s have to be tall and skinny. Well, I have an ass and I’m 5ft 3 and even that’s pushing it. Then I watched the film Black Swan and had a dream about dancing in the nutcracker and literally getting crushed in a nutcracker during my performance.  Rough

Being a spy is my ultimate ambition. But I’ve never understood how spies become spies if all spies are top secret. To get to be a spy you must be in with a spy in the first place. It's like the chicken and the egg story. One must have gotten there in the first place but NO ONE friggin knows the answer!

Bakery has always appealed to me. Yet, every time I bake a cake, I manage to set something on fire. Burning the metal pot. My own hair. Even the cake has been set on fire once. The possibilities of what destruction I could potentially cause to my household items and myself are endless.    Just today, I merely OPENED the fridge and a glass pot of pesto fell out onto my toe. Purple toe = saved messy glass clear up. So I guess it was fate.

Police women, astronauts and professional footballers were also considered future dream careers, but then I was advised by my father not to commit myself to a job that involved tremendous amounts of training, effort and bodily exhaustion.  "It's like the army Rachel. You'd get shot for messing about."

Thinking about what I want to be is overly stressful and now my brain hurts just from the thought. Today we learnt about brains in biology. I asked me teacher if we could dissect  a brain and she answers with "Are you actually joking?". Every time I ask inquisitive questions teachers always seem to get mad. Asking to sleep over at the science museum for a class trip didn't go down too well either. Safety hazard shit


So instead of deciding on my future career, I shall write about a favourite nut of mine. 

Ode to Pistachios:

They aren’t given enough credit in this world. 

  

Even to those little pistachios at the bottom of the pot that are impossible to open, I love you all.  Every one of you. Opening each shell is like opening a new Chanukah present. 

Amen

SHOUT TO RUKI

To my dearest friend Ruki, 

You are my inspiration in life. Keep flying cos you'll soar high. And you'll always reach the top.

WATCH THIS SPACE FOR YOUTUBE VLOG OF R&R COMIN SOON TO A COMPUTER NEAR YOU. 

FIRST EVER BLOG.

So hi. I'm Rachel. I want to go to University in America. 
Yeah.


I know. 


It's crazy expensive. Yeah.


Today my father told me that I needed to write a letter to every Admissions director guy at every university I have applied to, explaining "what makes us Berkowitzs so poor".


How could anyone ever take this task seriously?
I mean, writing a letter explaining how you think your family are so poor compared to other people is not a common topic of writing. 


However, I came up with a really convincing letter.

Dear Financial Aid guy, 

THE BERKOWITZ FAMILY ARE POOR. 


Here are the reasons why Rachel Berkowitz should receive a generous amount of financial aid:

1. The lock on the bathroom door in the Berkowitz household has been broken for almost two years and no guests are able to use the bathroom if they want privacy. They simply can’t afford to buy a new lock.  
2. In order for Rachel Berkowitz to go out the house, she is normally forced to take a bus. A single tube journey is unaffordable for Rachel. 
3. Rachel’s brother, Stevie B, has started to wear his mother’s jeans due to his sudden male-teenage-growth. Shopping for new clothes is out of the question.
4. The Berkowitzs have one of those old TVs that look like a hand painted black cardboard box. And it’s not even theirs. They got given it by their relatives as a sympathy gift. 
5. Mike Berkowitz was contemplating setting up a “Feed the Berkowitz” charity fund, but then he realised he’d have to purchase charity logos in order for his case to be verified. To do that, he must take the tube. Again, out of the question. 
6. Rachel does not own straighteners. Rachel has no laptop. Rachel is still on pay-as-you-go. Rachel relies on food provided from her synagogue as her weekend lunch. Rachel has not shopped for new clothes in over seven months. Rachel can not afford to read weekly, or even monthly trashy magazines. Rachel will never have a driving lesson. Rachel will never own a car. ((The normalities of a feminine teenage life are wholly absent.))
7. The Berkowitz family have never gone skiing.
8. The Berkowitz family do not own a car. Shocking right?
9. Deborah Berkowitz eats salad as her staple diet due to the expenses of British meat and carbohydrates.
10. The Berkowitz family will go/do/say/eat ANYTHING for freebies. “Do you support Chelsea?”       *We support Tottenham, you idiot, we are Jews*                                                  “YES! Favourite team ever!! Free tickets to their game and VIP lounge with all you can eat buffet? Don’t mind if we do!” 
11. Mike Berkowitz has not bought a new briefcase in thirty years. Stuff falls out. All the time.
12. Mike Berkowitz travels two hours every Sunday to buy bagels from the East End as they are 27p cheaper than those from Waitrose.
13. The only things the Berkowitz family can afford in Marks and Spencer are the swiss milk chocolate bars. Those are always good days. 
14. Rachel Berkowitz can never print out her essays at her own house. The cost of paper in bulk has simply become too expensive. 

Lusms! 

Rachel x

well, my dad laughed.