Posted by Ilana Angel
Well, it was only a matter of time. How much time? 72 days to be exact. Kim Kardashian is filing for divorce today. It is fascinating that this insanely beautiful, yet painfully untalented porn star, is famous. Even more shocking is that she earned 17 million dollars for her wedding, yet gay Americans are trying to ruin the sanctity of marriage. Really?
This woman is the least talented person in her family, and when you factor in her brother Rob, that is saying a lot. Kris Humphries better have made bank on this deal because if not, he’s even dumber than we all thought. Kim Karsashian is a fame whore, a money whore, and a publicity whore. A whore that is running all the way to the bank.
What is it going to take for America to realize that she brings nothing to the table? I am baffled by her career, have seen her sex tape, and am baffled by that too. Her lack of talent knows no bounds, and this divorce is lame, as was her marriage. Will she ever stop whoring and simply go away? All we can do it pray and keep the faith.
12.11.13 at 6:58 am | I watch in awe and stare with envy at these. . .
12.5.13 at 3:16 pm | Heaven has received a blessing today.
12.3.13 at 3:05 pm | Every time I go into the kitchen I half expect to. . .
11.30.13 at 10:42 am | "The only correct actions are those that demand. . .
11.29.13 at 1:56 pm | My nest will never empty as my son will always be. . .
11.28.13 at 7:59 am | Think. Laugh. Cry.
9.15.13 at 3:14 pm | I love you Russell Brand. (389)
7.25.11 at 5:38 pm | We need more Jews! (275)
12.5.13 at 3:16 pm | Heaven has received a blessing today. (202)
October 30, 2011 | 11:51 am
Posted by Ilana Angel
I had my second date with Sparky on Thursday night. If you need a reminder, he is the lovely man who was 36 minutes late for our first date. On our second date, he called me as I was on my way to meet him, to let me know he was going to be about 45 minutes late. Do you see a pattern forming?
I wrote after our first date that Sparky was a nice man, but not necessarily my type. The people in my life who know the men I have dated in recent years, can tell you they all had the same look. Bald, tattooed, Jewish men, who are cops or prisoners. My type has been “asshole”.
Sparky is not an asshole. He needs to be taught some dating etiquette, but other than that, he is a decent man, who treats me with respect, and makes me laugh. He listens to what I say, is not intimidated by my sarcasm, and finds my blog to be not only entertaining, but not scary.
I told Sparky dating me meant he would be in the blog on occasion, and he responded, “Dating a woman who writes a blog is actually beneficial, because she tends to be more open with how she feels. Some might be afraid or concerned, if you can put that aside you can find out a lot more about the person you are dating.”
It’s a nice way to look at the blog I suppose. When I told him I was going to out him for his being late on both of our dates, he responded, “While I may have made a very catastrophic mistake with my poor dating etiquette, I am glad it can be a learning experience for not only, me, but for all the other men in the world who are reading the blog.”
Now I’m sure he was being sarcastic, which I love, but in the end, whether he is okay with the blog or not, he has never told me not to write about him. He understands it is my job, and my passion. In what is proving to be a history book for my son, he is an important chapter.
Sparky is a nice man. He is kind, generous, sweet and funny. He treats me like a lady, and so maybe I never knew a man like him was my type, because I’ve never dated a man like him. I have spoken of him with my son and my child told me that whatever happens with Sparky, he likes him.
My almost 16 year old child told me, “You are the greatest woman I have ever known and you deserve to be with someone wonderful, and now that I am old enough, I want to give my stamp of approval on any man who is going to have the pleasure of spending time with my awesome mother.”
I have raised a remarkable young man. He is sensitive, kind, funny, smart, generous, loving and compassionate. I am raising my son to be the type of man I would want to meet. All this time I was certain Sparky was not my type, it would appear he has the qualities I have taught my son.
At the end of the day, it’s been two dates and so who cares? I care actually. My life is built around taking care of my son and helping him become a decent human being. For my son to recognize the type of man he wants me to be with is really lovely. That he looks out for me, matters.
I have no idea what will happen with Sparky. I know for sure that we are going out again, and that I am looking forward to it. I know that my son is going to be a wonderful man, and that I am going to embrace the woman in his life, because he will have selected a decent and wonderful girl.
Thanks to all of you who wrote to ask about Sparky. That you care, and take the time to think of me, is comforting. There are so many of you, who I do not know, but feel a friendship with. I live a small life, in a big way, and the journey is much easier with all of you coming along for the ride.
I am one of those people who think that if given the opportunity to see into the future, I would want to. This morning however, I woke up thinking that today, right now, is good. Good enough that I am able to appreciate yesterday, and look forward to tomorrow. I don’t need to know any more.
We spend so much of our lives thinking ahead, or regretting the past, that it can hinder our ability to enjoy today. My life is blessed. My son is healthy, and my future is bright because he is in it. Thank you for reading, sharing, and caring. You all make it much easier to keep the faith.
October 26, 2011 | 11:16 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
This afternoon when I was out running errands, I saw a group of kids on the sidewalk of a residential street. They appeared to be in their early teens and one girl was screaming at another one. As I approached them, the screaming girl shoved down the other girl, and kicked her. I pulled my car over and for lack of a better description, lost my mind.
I walked right up the girl, shoved my finger in her face and told her to back the hell up. She was startled to be sure, and told me they were just kidding, then shot the girl on the ground a look. I told her she had 10 seconds to walk away, she told me I needed to mind my own business, at which point I told her that she was my business.
She walked away telling the girl who left with her, that she hoped she is not crazy when she gets to be “that old”. I helped up the girl who was pushed and asked if she was okay. Another girl had stayed with her, and she was crying. My heart broke for them and I was shaking at what would have happened had I not driven by at that exact moment.
The girls told me a boy at school had sat with them in class, which annoyed the bully. I tried to be supportive, and listen to them, but what I wanted to do was follow the bully home and tell her parents what she had done. The girls would not accept a ride, but assured me they were fine, would tell their parents what happened, and walked off together.
I hung back and watched for a minute, just to make sure they were okay. It was very sad, and their waving good-bye has haunted me all day. While I can appreciate, and in some cases admire a woman who is bitchy, a bitch is a whole other ball game. I have been called bitchy, and I stand by the things that got me the label, so bitchy is good.
Lately I’ve been dealing with bullies and bitches in terms of my other blog, Keeping It Real. On that blog I write about reality television, and it can get wild as some of my opinions are not always well received. Some people like what I write, and others are certain I am going rot in hell for having an opinion that is different from theirs.
Since Jews do not believe in hell, I’m not too worried. For those who need an explanation: by definition, hell is the eternal punishment of the soul, in the next life, for the sins committed in this life. Jews believe in punishment in the next life for the sins of this life, but do not believe in hell because we believe God to be forgiving and compassionate.
Therefore, the idea of an eternal punishment makes God look Cruel, which he is not, and thus prevents us from believing in a hell. So hell is out for me, but I’m sure there are a lot of bitches down there. I don’t do well with bullies or bitches. It turns out the blogosphere is the land of bullies and bitches, and sadly, that is where I work.
Reality television is entertaining. Well, for the most part it is entertaining, yet it brings out bad behavior. As I watched a young girl get attacked by another young girl, it made me wonder what exactly I was doing. It turns out that it’s hard to be a reality television blogger and maintain a constant level of decency. As a decent person, and a Jew, it’s a struggle.
I will think of those little girls often, and wonder how they are. How all of them are. It’s 6:45 on Wednesday night and I am exhausted. I am going to shut down my computer, and spend the evening with my son. Tomorrow it will start all over again, so I hope I am able to control my inner blogging bitch. By control it, of course I mean I all I can do is keep the faith.
October 23, 2011 | 8:47 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
I had a date on Saturday night with a man we’ll call “Sparky”. I chose this moniker not because it is a cute name for a puppy, thus implying he is a dog, but rather because both on the phone, and in person, we had a spark. I am sarcastic and rather quick witted so when I meet a man that can appreciate that, and can keep up, it’s a great thing. That was the case with Sparky.
We had spoken and texted several times leading up to our date, and we all know that’s never a good thing. Pre-dating is a dangerous game so we while we were in contact, we kept it light and basic. We made plans to meet for a drink, but made it for 7:30 so in the event there was a connection in person, we could continue onto dinner. It was a well intentioned plan.
I arrived at 7:27 and made my way to the bar. Sparky called at 7:29 to tell me he was stuck in traffic and would be 10 minutes late. Now if it were me, I would have called before the time I was actually supposed to arrive to say I was running late, but that’s just me. I ordered a drink and chatted with the people at the bar while I waited. At 7:40 he texted to say traffic was still bad.
We texted back and forth and chatted on the phone. He was clearly stressed out by his tardiness so I forgave him, but milked it for all it was worth. I moved to a table because even a good girl is going to look like a hooker sitting alone at an upscale bar by herself. When a creepy man at the bar asked me if I went there often, I knew it was time to move.
Just before 8:00, Sparky sent a text to ask where I was. I directed him to our table, only to discover he was at the wrong restaurant. Brilliant. He was now 30 minutes late, at a restaurant up the street, and forced to wait for the valet to bring back his car. If he had not been in contact throughout his ordeal to get to the date, I would have bailed. 36 minutes is brutal.
Sparky finally arrived at the correct restaurant at 8:06. I was well into my Cosmo and was able to see the humor in it. Luckily I ordered the drink because without a little buzz I would have left. It’s a defining moment when a man arrives late for a date, and I was curious how he would handle it. He arrived, kissed me on the cheek, said “sorry dear”, and sat down.
I’m not sure how to explain it, but it was nice. There was a sense of comfort, as if we knew each other well. It might sound silly, but it felt safe to me and I was immediately put at ease. The fact that he was better looking in person did not hurt either. I told him as much and he said he posted a not so great picture, so women were pleasantly surprised.
Interesting approach, and one that worked well. We settled into an easy banter and quickly decided to have dinner. We chatted about our kids, our work, and life in general. He was funny and charming, and very polite. No sexual innuendos, or dumb jokes. It was grown up, funny, light but meaningful, and not a lot of dating fluff talk that teaches you nothing.
Two drinks and two hours later, we left the restaurant. I’m not impressed by money, or what kind of car a man drives. I am impressed with manners, and how a man talks about his children and his ex-wife. He spoke of his kids with love and kindness, and of his ex-wife gently. I was digging him and then he did the one thing that always makes my heart flutter.
I got to the door first, and when I opened it, he leaned over and pushed it open with his right hand, then placed his left hand on the small of my back and guided me through the door. It might sound ridiculous, but I have always thought a man putting his hand on my lower back as a guide, to be a romantic gesture, and one that makes me feel special. It was lovely.
We said goodnight and it was a very nice date. We were in touch today and I assume we will go out again. I won’t be surprised if we don’t though, as I’ve gotten that assumption wrong before. Dating is a game, a dance, a test, and full of rules. Sadly it’s also one of the rare things that no matter how often you do it, you just never get any better at it. Dating sucks.
So in the end it was such a nice date that I’ve moved on from his being late. Should we go out again I will milk it, and by milk it of course I mean I will remind him of his first date tardiness for as long as I know him. It was nice to go with an intellectual man. He’s not my type, which makes me think that perhaps he is actually my type. Second date? I’m keeping the faith.
October 23, 2011 | 1:28 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
It has been a great weekend in Los Angeles. It’s sunny and warm with the smell of fall in the air. It’s as if we are almost having a season, which for LA is unusual. As my family prepares for snow in Canada, I am counting my blessings and was thrilled to go to Starbucks this morning in a summer dress and sandals. I’m heading to the beach to sit, take deep breaths, and relax.
Yesterday I hung out with my friend JB. I have known her for 15 years, and we have weathered many storms together. I love her very much, and while we planned to meet for a quick coffee in the morning, our day ended up stretching in a glorious time of relaxation. By relaxation of course I mean torture. We had pedicures, which were relaxing, but then things turned ugly.
JB was telling me about her new favorite thing, Thai massage. It sounded fabulous so I decided we should go, and I was happy to treat my friend and spend some more time with her. We headed over to her favorite place, which could not have been father from what I was expecting. We walked from the bright sun into a dark cave that had a white slavery vibe to it.
It was lit with candles and the small woman at the front desk whispered hello. JB told her what we wanted and we were led into a dark chamber. I was certain someone was going to hit me over the head and I would wake up in Thailand, naked. We were put in a room with two massage tables, separated by a curtain. I was instructed to get naked and lay on the table.
Before I could ask her what the hell she was talking about, she was gone. I opened the curtain and saw JB getting naked. It was really dark and I could not see what was happening, so getting naked was not an option. The tiniest of women came back and told me, in what very close to English, that I needed to get undressed, and she started to take my shirt off.
So now I’m naked, on a table, and the woman whispers in my ear that she is going to “climb”, then jumps on the table and starts to walk all over my body. She is walking, pulling, stretching, yanking, bending, and massaging my body in a most interesting, but not relaxing way. The whole time I am trying to breathe deeply and not panic that I am not in control.
While I believe there was some sort of ancient chanting music playing, I could not hear it because JB was going back and forth between moaning and screaming ouch. It was hilarious because when we were heading there, she told me it’s an open space with only curtains as walls and I needed to be quiet, yet she was really loud with her curious sounds.
I thought she was either having great sex, or being tortured. It was the least relaxing, most painful massage I have ever had. I felt like I was being beat up, which is not my thing. I left with a few bruises and a headache. About an hour later though, I felt limber, calm, and rather relaxed. I’m used to massages where those feelings are instant, not an hour later.
I’m not sure I will try Thai massage again, but if I do, I will not go with JB as the soundtrack she provided was more disturbing than entertaining. I love my friend and any time I can spend with her is important to me, but I’ll pass if seeing her includes the underworld of sex massage. My bruises this morning are huge, but I’m relaxed and keeping the faith.
October 21, 2011 | 12:06 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
I had lunch with a friend this week who suggested that in order for me to meet a nice guy, I should start dating men who are not Jewish. I’ve received that advice before from many people, but I was surprised to hear it from this particular friend. He is not only Jewish, but married to a Rabbi.
If this friend, who lives a Jewish life, raises his kids Jewish, has a love for Judaism, and whom I respect very much, thinks I should date non-Jews, does that make it okay for me to venture to the other side? Is it a big deal to date outside your faith? Was I getting an opinion or permission?
I think faith is important and it matters to me. While I don’t concern myself with what religion people are, personally, my life is made a little easier and more fulfilling when I have faith. For me, faith and religion are two different things. I have tremendous faith, and am also Jewish.
I am raising my son with both religion and faith. He is a Jew, and has faith in himself, in me, and in God. Last night was Simchat Torah and my son read Torah at temple. He did an amazing job and I was so proud of him. He read beautifully and the experience was very special.
I only date Jewish men because it’s what I’m comfortable with, and I want to share my religion with my partner. I want my son to marry a wonderful Jewish woman one day, and raise his children as he was, with a love of faith and Judaism. If I am in a relationship with someone not Jewish, is that not permission for my son to do the same?
I mentioned to a girlfriend, that this friend of mine suggested I date men who are not Jewish, and she said just because I don’t want to marry a man who is not Jewish, does not mean I can’t sleep with one. Her suggestion was that I marry a Jew, but sleep with a non-Jew until I find the Jew.
My Jewish friends are not that into my whole marry a Jew thing. It cracks me up because my Jewish friends are happily married to Jews, by choice, yet they are putting it out there that it might not be the path for me. My choices are not really supported by my close friends.
The truth is that none of my friends get it. They have all, at some point, told me that I need to be with a man of faith, and that religion does not matter. The feeling is that if I am secure in my Judaism, it only matters that he believes in something, not necessarily the same thing as me.
My son is almost 16, so any man I date will meet him. When he was young he never met the men I dated, but now he is old enough to not only meet them, but also have a relationship with them. If I date a non-Jew, then so can my son and I won;t be able to object or say anything.
He certainly does not need my permission, and I will love whomever he loves, but I have to lead by example. I am not going to date men who are not Jewish, and I am not going to sleep with men who are not Jewish. If I’m sleeping with you, we are in a relationship, so that won’t work.
My mother always told me not to play with matches unless I was prepared to deal with a fire. I always thought it was a stupid thing to say, but I appreciate it now. Non-Jewish men are matches. If I date them, they might turn into fire, and I’ll be stuck with no water.
Considering I have not had a good date in weeks and I have two cats, I hardly think this is anything I need to worry about. I am closer to being a cat lady than I am to getting married, so whether or not I date outside my faith is not a big deal at the moment.
I have a date tomorrow with a Jewish man. He is an accountant, 56 years old, and quite charming. I have no plans to marry him, or sleep with him, but when I told him my son was reading Torah, he got it, was excited for my son, and for me to watch him. That matters.
I have a better shot at getting another cat than I do of meeting a nice Jewish man to spend the rest of my life with, but I’m still shooting for the man, and avoiding the animal shelter. Maybe I will meet the Jewish man of my dreams at the animal shelter? I’m keeping the faith.
October 20, 2011 | 7:58 am
Posted by Ilana Angel
For many people around the world, October 20 is Spirit Day. The purple Spirit Day is a public initiative that was created by GLAAD (Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation). For people who want to show support for the teens who took their lives because of anti-gay bullying, can participate by wearing purple.
While we should remember these kids always, today is a day to focus our attention on these wonderful young people who ended their own lives as a result of gay abuse. I am reprinting this blog to honor their memory and show my support to the LGBT community.
Gay Teen Suicide:
Rest in Peace Asher, Raymond, Tyler, Billy & Seth
Originally posted October 5, 2010
Tall, short, fat, thin, smart, simple, gay or straight, I love my son. He is the single most important thing in my life and there is nothing I would not do for him, or anything he could do that would make me not love him. His joy is my joy and his pain is my own. I cannot imagine what I would do if my child was struggling so hard with life that suicide was the answer.
There have been a series of teen suicides over the past few weeks by children who were gay, and being bullied. Bullying is heartbreaking and simply unacceptable, on any level, from anyone. The kids who bullied these young children, along with their parents, have blood on their hands. They killed these children and should be held accountable.
To every child that is suffering and in pain, you are not alone. You can get help and I promise you it will get better. Get help. You can call The Trevor Project, 24 hours a day, from anywhere in the country, toll free. They can be reached at 866-4-U-TREVOR. That’s 866-488-7386. You can learn about this invaluable organization at The Trevor Project
Bullies are not just children. Kids learn from their parents. If parents condone this behavior it will never stop. The senseless deaths of these children must be a wake up call to this country. We must make this a country where everyone is treated equal, afforded the same rights, are allowed to marry, and can serve in the military.
My heart is broken for these young men and their families. I hope their passing will lead to change. Asher Brown and Seth Walsh were 13 years old. Billy Lucas was 15, Tyler Clementi, 18 and Raymond Chase, 19. Do the people who are blocking gay marriage, and supporting Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, not realize their actions are directly related to the deaths of these children?
You are putting a sign on the back of gay Americans saying, “kick me.” You are saying they are not equal, do not need to be treated the same, and are therefore setting them up for failure. How can these children fight back and take pride in who they are, when the government is telling them they are nothing? It’s time for these children to be given hope.
If my son where to bully another child there would be consequences. If my son witnessed another child being bullied and did not try to help that child, there would be consequences. If my son were gay, I would love him, embrace him, and kick the ass of anyone who felt they could make him feel bad about who he is and the way God created him.
It is heartbreaking to me that these children looked to death as an escape from their torment. No child should ever take his or her own life, and no parent should ever have to bury a child. There is a great article about the five things you need to know about gay teen suicide at:
We must remember these children, learn from them, and unite as a nation to help others who are feeling their pain. God would not want us to judge each other this way. This is America and we are all equal. Tall, short, fat, thin, smart, simple, gay or straight, we are all the same. Why must a child die this way? It is a sad state of affairs when death appears to be the only option.
To the families of these young men, I am sorry for your loss, will keep you in my thoughts and prayers, and hope your children have found peace. To Asher, Raymond, Tyler, Billy and Seth, I know you are safe, laughing and free. Know that we love you and your passing will inspire change, and give other children who are in pain the strength to keep the faith.
To learn more about spirit day, you can visit GLAAD.
October 18, 2011 | 6:02 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
I wrote a blog last week when we heard Shalit would be freed, and some felt my use of the word “excited “ was an inappropriate emotion to be feeling, when you factor in the release of the Palestinian prisoners. I wavered on the use of the word, but now that he is home, and we have seen him, I am indeed excited.
I woke up early this morning and watched Gilad coming home online. I cried when I first saw him. I was overcome with joy, relief, and gratitude that this lovely young man was home. Even though he is 25, to me he is a child. My child. I wanted him to be okay, and I prayed he would be free and back in Israel with his family.
I understand the sacrifices that Israel made to bring him home, and that there is a price to pay, but I believe his coming home alive and well was worth it. I am excited for his future, his family, and for the message that is sends to the people of Israel. In a country where military service is mandatory, his coming home means everything.
Rob Eshman, the Publisher and Editor-in-Chief of The Jewish Journal, wrote an article yesterday about Israel’s history in terms of releasing prisoners, and the fact is that this has been done before. Israel is a country at war, and because she requires her citizens to defend her, she also assures them she will bring them home safely.
I want to hug Gilad Shalit. I feel as if I know him because he has been in my prayers for 1941 days. I love him and he is a symbol of the resilience and strength of Israel and her people. Best of wishes to not only Gilad, his family and friends, but also to Israel and her people. It’s okay to be excited. That’s why we keep the faith.