Saturday, September 24, 2005

The Other Hill - Part Deux

The T-Hill, that other outpost of Torontonian Judaism, has reared its head this weekend. Bold is celebrating her birthday along with another friend, Shosh of the Thornhill Shoshana's. Yours truly has been put in charge of decorations. I was thinking a tasteful trip down to Teatro Verde for a nice planter, a stop at the Flower District @ Ave and Dav for some floral inspiration before artfully concocting a display mixed with floating tea lights. Those from the T-Hill, had a different idea. M-Poo called me this morning to warn me about the decoration intervention. It appears as if Shosh's husband was stopping off to get streamers and balloons.
Background noise (courtesy of Bold): "I will not have balloons and streamers at my party."
M-Poo whispered into the phone: "The problem is that you have a mix of two cultures - Thornhill and Faux Hill."
Truer words have never been spoken.

Friday, September 23, 2005

I Just Want a Shaygetz

Awhile ago I, whilst being angry at Starbucks (in general), I asked Sim Sim Sima and Papa Len why we ended up residing in pretentious Faux Hill. "We liked the house", they answered. I suppose what's not to like about the Two-Fer (the name I've bestowed upon the familial compound)? We have four bedrooms, a den, a backyard... It's GT's over here.
But as a part of a cultural minority, Papa Len and Sim Sim Sima settled in Faux Hill for reasons beyond the tudor styling of the Two-Fer. The Faux Hill and its predominantly Jewish residents, provide a nice protectorate where Sim Sim Sima and Papa Len's offspring (Boldy and me) could be raised in a culturally Jewish neighbourhood with the hope of potentially meeting a culturally similar mate. Faux Hill is like sending your kids to Jewish day school or a jewish camp; only unlike those cultural outposts of latent twenty first century Judaism the Faux Hill is 24/7; it is the twentieth century version of J-Date. And that, in its beauty, is the insiduous nature of the Faux Hill, which is nothing more then a self confined breeding ground for potential Cohen-Greenberg nuptuals.
Alas, a trend within these parts is rebellion, as kids will be kids... for most Jewish boys the spectre of rebellion lies within the cold confines of Rosedale, where a blue eyed-blond haired temptress with decent pedigree and OLD MONEY lures a nice Faux Hill mentsch with her shiks-appeal. A Shiksa is the derogatory term used to describe a non jewish girl who marries/dates a Jewish boy. And really whats not to like about a WASPy mate? Instead of the overly emotional hysterics of a Jewish family, our young Faux Hill lad, gets a glass of scotch and stone cold silence at the dinner table, as his mother, sadly geshries (Yiddish for shrieking) at how her beloved Joshua is dating the gentle HaverGal, Taylor Morgan Pratt.
And for the rebellious Gay Jewish boy of Faux Hill? The reality is not so different, Shiks-appeal, or in my case, Gaygetz appeal still rules. A Gaygetz?
To define: a Shaygetz is the male version of a shiksa, and a gaygetz is a term that I've modified to describe the succession of Pretty White Boys With Problems (PWBWP)that I've have dated. And like the nice Jewish boy who brings home a WASPy shiksa for Rosh Hashannah dinner, I've realized that I as well am only attracted to Gaygetz's. All of my PWBWB have been of the non kosher variety. I have been infatuated with my gaygetz's because of their WASPy last names such as Bradshaw & Payne, their small upturned little noses, their goyishe but beautiful blue eyes, the fact that they all offer me a glass of scotch at the door and the fac that they are all shockingly emotionally despondant.
As I jogged through the Faux Hill the other day, however, I realized that my infatuation with gaygetz's is pretty classic Jew-boy mentality, the Gaygetz, much like the Shiksa, still has the appeal of The Other. And I realized, that just because I'm gay, it doesn't make me any less of a neurotic Jew-boy. Portnoy would be so proud.

Monday, September 19, 2005

Life in Slow Motion

Dearest Readers, I have become lost... I dated an actor and got dumped via e-mail only to realize that everyone has baggage - only most people don't carry a Louis Vuitton. And so tonight, I yearn, ne long for a place where everybody knows my name (Cohen, Stern, Golden/Silver-stein, blatt, burg) and where most people's baggage is in fact a newly purchased Louis. Tonight I returned to the Village. Spooky...


It was a dark and stormy night in the Faux Hill; or as dark and stormy as it gets in these calm monied parts. An air of pervasive calm has prevailed over Starbucks; the teenage riff raff has come back from various camps in Algonquin Park and have departed for wannabe ivy league schools in Montreal and London; the Village has been reclaimed by its rightful citizens - the tax payers and by its future tax payers - law school students.
My most frequent interaction has become a various nodding routinte with these future home owners, comical only for its repitition:
"You look familiar." I see one girl in Lulu and I know...
"You were in my class." She says.
"McGill?" I ask.
"Jewish Holiday's; or some other Jewish class." And as we update each other on various summer exploints, current life plans, she tells me how she's finished her first few days of law school. She shows me the courseback with pride, as secretly we both count how many Jewish studies classes she took to get were she is. How many classes padded that CV in the quest for the holy grail: 4.0.
And so the cycle continues this fall in Faux Hill... the new generation arises as the old lingers on a patio sipping chai latte's proud of their accomplishments and David Gray laments on the ipod, "life in slow motion, somehow it can't be real."

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Think Inside the Box

Bold Sharon is perhaps the oddest member of the Faux Hill family. Besides her ever increasing 'boldosity' [she was christened Boldy McS after numerous arguments over the surprise party that we planned for our parents last year. For an example I will recount the 'party sandwich incident', wherein yours truly made an executive decision and ordered party sandwiches without consulting her. "What do you mean you ordered the party sandwiches? Those people (by 'those people' she was obviously talking about the international party sandwich conspiracy) are always trying to rip us off... you probably ordered too many. Next time, get a price quote, call me back and then order." This was an argument based on $150 of party sandwiches, so we aren't talking big money here... and they all went. Boldy further distinguished herself as Bold by pushing me aside in a display of superhuman strength and shouting, to my friend Brynnah and Brock, "THEY'RE GOING TO RUIN THE SURPRISE.]; anyways... besides her increasing 'boldosity' Bold Sharon has a habbit of not being very Faux Hillary, even though she grew up here her entire life. Sadly Boldy always placed herself on the fringes of FH society wondering why she isn't as fashionable as "those people"; by those people she is referring to those stricken with Faux Hill-iticis. At thirty, however, Boldy has finally gotten so bold as too demand something from Tiffany's from her beloved husband and man who knows tolerance, M-Poo.
Tiffany-bling is the ultimate mark of the Faux Hillary. It's like a cultural touchstone that symbolizes ones origin. But unlike every other Faux Hillary, Boldy shockingly, has nothing from Tiffany's. Nary an Elsa Paretti heart, nor silver dog chain can be found in her jewellery box. This to insider's is shocking:
Kitty: "Your sister doesn't have anything from Tiffany's? Weird."
Matt: "I mean given the socio-economic standing, I find it shocking, unheard of."
Brynnah once declared, "I think it has something to do with the Bat Mitzvah, but every Jewish girl has at least something from Tiffany's." And finally Boldy can meet the mold, as M Poo has taken the plunge and thought inside the box... but true to form, Boldy directed him at a particular piece, much to the sticker shocked eyes of M Poo. And just because she's Sharon has become a bit more Faux Hillary, doesn't mean she's ain't still bold. And that is why we love her.