By Stephanie Lewis
I am planning a small, casual, intimate wedding and my fiancé and I don’t eat meat and prefer to serve our twelve guests a healthy vegetarian style dinner. Do we need to state this on the invitation?
Signed, Never Eats Beef Bride In South Hampton
Intimate, Shmintimate! You call it a proper simcha with just a dozen people in attendance, barely a whisper as they sing, “Siman Tov Mazel Tov?” What kind of a skinny, sickly hora do you think you’ll have on the dance floor? And I’ve just come from visiting your poor mother who is brokenhearted that not only will her mahjong group not be included, but your Uncle Leo (with his bad back) will have no choice but to hold one of the chair legs to lift up your intended, who is not a lightweight boychick. So it’s settled — you’ll invite a minimum of 125 people and serve filet mignon and be happy. True? Of course true.
Dear Yente, I’m lonely when Friday night arrives and the other non-Jews in my dormitory go off together for weekend getaways in the mountains. They sleep in tents, cook over fires, and have fun. I don’t mean to complain, but why am I excluded?
Signed, Kept Vexed, Eager To Camp Happily
Oy, this is urgent! Hillel awaits your presence at their Shabbos table. Of course I’ll be there to make proper introductions to Miss Sarah Weiss, a nice Jewish girl I already have in mind for you. And remember — Jews can’t camp. If there’s no kitchen and it isn’t air-conditioned, we don’t do cold or damp. Berries, seeds, beef jerky’s not our diet, so we stick to the Hilton and the Hyatt. Gentiles think waking up with the birds is a riot, but we Jews prefer peace and quiet! And you can tell ‘em Yente said so in rhyme! PS. Sarah has perfect childbearing hips — you’ll thank me at the bris. Amen.
Dear Yente, I have my eye on the Rabbi’s son. We only have one Rabbi, and he only has one son. Why shouldn’t I want the best?
Because you’re a girl from a poor family, with no dowry — so whatever Yente brings, you’ll take, right? Of course right! PS. Tell that older sister of yours, Tzeitel, to stop that haughty copycat act she does of me. Imitation is not the highest form of flattery, and my new son-in-law is a big shot attorney.
Dear Yente, I’m not sure what’s going on? I took just a small break to rest my weary hands from the keyboard and suddenly I find you’ve taken my place, dispensing all the advice I used to give — only with a sassy attitude thrown in. What’s happening?
This is what happens sweetheart — you snooze, you lose. My matchmaking job went down the tubes once Jdate came on the scene and so I moved straight into your newspaper column industry. You want my advice? Brush up on bedroom intimacy and quickly jump into that juicy field, as soon as Dr. Ruth Westheimer happens to look away from her computer screen to eat a rugelach. And this isn’t just “a sassy attitude” thrown in girlfriend — this is chutzpah!
Stephanie D. Lewis (now AKA Yente!) writes for Huffington Post comedy as well as OnceUponYourPrime.com