Some exerpts from Jewtopia: The Chosen Book for the Chosen People:

Adam and Eve lived in their Heavenly paradise with low real estate taxes and plentiful parking. One fateful day, while they were out in the garden naming the weasels, Dick Cheney, a serpent, offered to hook them up with some primo fruit from the Tree of Knowledge.

They [God and Abraham] performed and ultra-secret handshake, and thus began the covenant between God and the Jewish people. “Oh, and did I mention that you have to circumsize yourself?” asked The Lord. But they’d already shook on it. (this one kind of reminds me of something Jack Handey would say)

Jacob was born holding onto Esau’s heel, trying to pull Esau back so that he, Jacob, would be born first–shrewdly thinking of his investments even as a youngster. Esau grew up to be a big strapping hunter, while Jacob was a sensitive, scholarly, girly-man. Can you guess which one the Jews are descended from?

I really wish my Mother had not sent me an intinerary, because that makes it real, and now if she decides this trip isn’t going to work out, it’s going to be extra disappointing.

The reason the itinerary worked out as such, is because my Mom wanted to drive, so it is better to start South and work our way North. And because, for some reason, she wanted to take an early flight, I have one day of free time in San Diego. I’m glad she decided to work our way North…I can’t imagine having my one day of free time in Bakersfield. I don’t even know anything about Bakersfield, but just listening to the sound of the name seems like it’s nothing to write home about. Plus this gives me time to find Carmen Sandiego. I know she’s there. It’s so obvious.

I don’t want to go to Sea World and I don’t want to go to the San Diego zoo. I can go to the Sheed Aquarium or one of several zoos at home. I am not going to spend my one day of free time in California doing something I can do at home, though slightly different. Plus the last time I was at the Shedd, a beluga whale spit water on my face. That is enough to last a lifetime.

San Diego is a fairly big city, there has to be more to it than that. So I did what any other fine, upstanding, patriotic, healthy, normal American boy girl would do. I consulted Wikipedia. And I said “Hey, best friend, what is there to do in San Diego?” And I was pointed in the direction of Balboa Park. This seems like it is probably one of the coolest places in these here United States. It looks beautiful and there is so much to do. One of the attractions is international cottages. This reminds me of in EPCOT, except they’re smaller, don’t have restaurants, and there are more of them. A perfect hiding spot for Carmen Sandiego. She is there. I can feel it in my bones. And the zoo is there…in case I change my mind. But I won’t. Although the pandas are so cute. But I doubt I will have time for that, especially on a Sunday.

I want to blend in. Miri has shared some interesting dos and don’ts with me. She spent 20 minutes arguing with me about what is not okay when ordering a burger from In-n-Out…and then another 10 minutes later.

•Interstates have to be referred to with “the” in front of them. Ex: Most of this trip will be spent driving on “The 5.”
•In-n-Out burger has a hotline where you can call them and tell them where you are and they will give you directions to the nearest one.
•Asking for pickles on an In-n-Out burger will be an embarrassment to myself and to the entire state of California. I refuse to believe that, but I guess if someone from California came to Chicago and tried to order a hot dog, I would probably be just as upset, if not more. Probably more. Also, if I want two meat patties, I have to order a double double without cheese. I can’t just ask for “double meat” like the secret menu on the web site says, because “some tourist from New York probably came up with that.” And I have to eat it with tomatoes, even though I hate tomatoes. To eat it without tomatoes is to ruin it. I think eating it WITH tomatoes would ruin it, because tomatoes are gross and it would probably make me sick. After a half hour she finally gave in to allowing me to ask for no tomatoes. We went in circles for a half hour and eventually just got to “just don’t ask for pickles,” which she could have just said in the first place and it would not have taken that long to have that conversation. But it was sure funny.
•It has also been confirmed, from Jenni Stukin, that California drivers are, in fact, crazier than Chicago drivers. Yeah, not looking forward to that.


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