Stefanella's Drive Thru

Israel, U.S., conflict, war, peace, humor, travel, romance, fashion, fun

The Birthday Bailout November 25, 2009

Last week myself and another set of parents co-hosted our sons’ 2nd grade birthday party .  It was an ordeal.  To say the least.  The hoopla was originally scheduled to happen at a local museum but due to logistics, the venue tanked.  So the other parents and I scrambled at the last minute to find a back up: the local bowling alley.

As the date approached, my son fell ill with fever as did his co-host.  We held off, hoping for health and instead, three hours pre-celebration we postponed.  Thank goodness for SMS, email and cellphone technology.    It all makes last  minute change tenable.

We re-grouped and re-scheduled for the following week and luck was to be on our side:  The celebration happened as planned.  But not without incident.

Let’s just say that when you invite 35 kids – thirty-bleedin’-five – there’s bound to be a “hiccup” or two.

And so, the post-party day after was devoted to ME-chill out-time.  I needed it.  To regain my voice – lost as I attempted to out-shout the background music (score! on Lady Gaga), video arcade din and general bedlam.  I also needed to relax after the tension of all that last minute hiccup stuff.

While chilling at home, I emailed my dear friend Keith with a party re-cap. I had to share it with someone.  His reply: “I laughed out loud.  Then I read it again and laughed again!” – prompted me to share it here.

It’s post-birthday party chill day.  My friend D just showed up impromptu and we went to a French brasserie for coffee/food together.  I also briefly met with a graphic designer for a project.  Otherwise, NADA else on the schedule.

The party was slightly hectic – 35 kids.  And honey, let’s just say these littl’uns  DID NOT grow up playing in the local league.  They was throwin’ the ball backwards into the spectator area, bouncing it from lane to lane, rollin’ it down the center panel between lanes. . .EVERYTHANG!

I was certain someone would get killed or lose a foot.

And of course, the “active” kids are the ones whose parents dropped them curbside and screeched away out of sight, leaving only tread marks in their stead.  Bless their little hyped up souls.  I went hoarse coaxing them NOT to throw balls the wrong way, drop balls on other kids’ toes, roll balls  down the lane while the machine was wracking or take them to the toilet á la “this is mine!”…It was a job.

And let’s not forget the crying:  One inconsolable who arrived as dinner was starting and missed the gaming, another who sobbed that his lane-mates were robbing him of his turn and another who DID NOT want to bowl – he had come for the video arcade!

But it was fun and my son had a really good time as did the other kids.  And he got tons of gifts.  And truth be known, it was the easiest party I’ve ever put on in terms of personal involvement.  I merely had to buy party favors, email invites and shell out $$.  Not too tough.

But, as the co-host-mom said the on the phone when she rang to check in:  ‘It’s sort of like the Last Supper.  Good thing it happened because it was the last time.’

I would have to vote an ‘Amen, sister!’ to that.  Less is more & mass invite parties are passé.  Even if it was my first.

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Bad Hair Day March 23, 2009

See these beautiful shiny solar dishes? They are located on a new Israeli solar farm on the brink of going operational. Yesterday Stefanella was privy to a press tour of the grounds and interview time with the scientists who innovated the farm’s new solar harnessing technology.
dishes

See the nice man in the picture? Come closer. Notice that wee bit of raspy smoke appearing to rise out of the crown of his head? Nope, it’s not Photoshop.
andysmokes

Heed this lesson kiddies: When standing in a field amidst solar dishes, position yourselves far far away from the reflective panels.

 

Mankind & a Cellphone December 2, 2008

This was shot entirely on cellphone;  It won the Tropfest NY 2008 top prize – $20 grand.

All it takes is a cellphone.. and a conscience.

 

Breaking the Label Maker: Going up Against the Brand November 23, 2008

When my 16-year-old nephew Omer posted this commentary on his Facebook page a few weeks ago, I was blown away by his poignant writing style and maturity.  Check it. . .
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I am commonly thought of as a “gamer,” or a “nerd,” or anything else that has to do with preferring technology over human contact. And while this has some root in truth, it is not in itself true. If it hasn’t yet become apparent, I am not what my label thinks I am.

If given the choice, I would always prefer to be with real people, especially friends, rather than sitting in front of a screen alone at night. It is true that I enjoy technology, but not to any greater extent than any normal 16 year old guy does. The fact that I am good with computers and such should not have any bearing on the type of person I am, nor should the fact that I am good at school.

However, this is evidently not the way society feels it should be, and therefore I am packaged, sealed, and labeled as a person with no life. The point I am trying to drive across here is that I don’t want this label, I don’t want to be any one kind of person, I just want to be a person. Period, end of story.

If only it were that simple. This branding that I have has had consequences just as any other branding would. Not only has it confined me to a certain social class, but it has made it damn near impossible to escape. Up until now, I have dealt with it in one way or another; compensation, overcompensation, withdrawal, denial, the list goes on. But I’m done. I’ve had enough of this already. I’m tired of my label defining who I am, what I am, and as a result what I can and can’t do.

I’m 16 years old, and I’ve never been to a real party. I’ve never been out of my house doing stupid stuff past 10 p.m. I’ve never been in a relationship I truly enjoyed. Hell, I’ve never even had the courage to tell a girl that I really like her, all because of this stupid, idiotic, pointless label. No more. I have my inspiration, I have my dream, and I have the willpower to accomplish it.

And if anybody ever wants to label me again, I say screw off, I don’t want to deal with you anymore.

 

Assmosis February 25, 2008

I am reading a back-issue of GQ and came across the column “New Jargon for the GQ Man”
I’m not a man. Sue me. GQ’s a beautiful glossy mag with well written articles, upscale advertising, the latest in trends and cutting edge tips for the upper uppers.
Sue me again because I’m the back room at Loehmann’s on a good day. And the closest I’ll ever get to the country club set is if I happen to be hired to write a PR brochure or someone asks me to mind the kids poolside while Buffy and Bootsy go a round of tennis.

But a woman can dream.

Anyheeeewwww…This Jargon column had some entries I felt super compelled to share.

1) Assmosis – The process by which people seem to absorb success and advancement by sucking up to the boss rather than working hard.

2) Oh-No Second – That fraction of time in which you realise you’ve just made a big mistake (e.g. you’ve hit “reply to all”).

3) SITCOMS – Single Income, Two Children, Oppressive Mortgage. What yuppies turn into when they have children and one of them stops working to stay at home with the kids or start a “home business”.

4) Salmon Day – The experience of spending an entire day swimming upstream only to get screwed and die.

5) Airplane Blonde – One who has bleached/dyed her hair but still has a “black box”.

6) Cube Farm – An office filled with cubicles

7) 404 – Someone who’s clueless. From the World Wide Web message “404 error: File not Found”, meaning that the requested document could not be located

8) Johnny-No-Stars – A young man of substandard intelligence, the typical adolescent who works in a fast-food restaurant. The “no stars” comes from the badges displaying stars that staff wear to show their level of training.