the stiletto report : part i stiletto arrives


So Stil arrived last night.

I got a flurry of texts. They said things like, “Uh oh.” “This woman is already driving me crazy.” “You were so right.” “How did you know?”

Pammy madness was in full swing.

I am not a good friend. When I called back I laughed pretty hard.

Pammy is a nice Orthodox Jewish girl who is sleeping on a friend’s couch somewhere so she can rent her room out to Stil for a week. Orthodox Jewish is sort of like Pentacostal Christian or, if you want to go less fire and brimstone, Amish. Or a cross between the two. There are big big rules with these people. And Pammy does not live in Beverly Hills. [Like Pammy said she did.] Pammy lives in a little Orthodox Jewish community that is so closed to outsiders [and so far outside Beverly Hills] it is one of the only areas in Los Angeles County not to see a rent increase in the last twenty years.

This means Stil is in a neighborhood where people wear clothing that starts at their necks and ends at their ankles, hats to show deference to God, and they are “plain” in a way the Amish never even mustered. So Stil walking around in her designer low cut tops is sort of out of place in this neighborhood and small children stare. Men stare. Women stare. Everyone stares.

Also, Pammy does not have AC.

And we are having a heat wave.



I am not much help in this sitch. In part because I told her not to do it so every dissatisfied gruntle Stil says is something she knows I said would happen and I know I said would happen and I am not saying that out loud but the laughter is problematic and she is calling me Miss Know It All now without me even saying a word.

Also the night Stil got in I was still finishing my damn taxes. I figured she would be jet lagged and I have a deadline of October 15 on those and figure I better get them out the door before Stil and I go play. Which means I was no damn fun on Tuesday night and even though she was tired and jet lagged she probably needed more fun than “I have to finish these taxes let’s play tomorrow” from me. At least to get her out of Pammy Land.

No AC.

During a Southern California heatwave.



*drafts are temporarily suspended to make room for stiletto updates which are cracking me up [bad friend bad]


where the art work comes from :
that is from chaovsky

0 Responses to the stiletto report : part i stiletto arrives

  1. Also, today is Yom Kippur. So Stil is in an orthodox neighborhood on the holiest, holiest, most solemn day of the year.

  2. I nominate her Shiksa of the Year.

  3. ‘Also, today is Yom Kippur.’

    Good! This mean Pammy won’t be dropping in today!

    ‘I nominate her Shiksa of the Year.’

    Dare I ask what a shiska is?

    ‘When I called back I laughed pretty hard.’

    Max, you are so mean. But right. Know it all.

  4. max

    There is something magical about it also being Yom Kippur. That is the kind of high note you just stretch to come up with when you are making things up.

  5. A shiksa is Yiddish for a Gentile woman. It can be said with varying degrees of meaning from mere descriptiveness to scorn, depending on the context, but usually — as I have encountered it — seems to carry a note of “hussy.” Typically heard in sentences like “Oy, did you hear about poor Meyer, his oldest son who was perfect for Rebecca Fishbein is marrying a shiksa.” (It’s a double blow when your son marries a shiksa because descent is counted through the mother; if your daughter marries a shaygetz the grandchildren will still be Jewish.)

  6. Pingback: For Stiletto and Max « Frontier Former Editor

  7. The Hasidim are in for a shock.

  8. I just figured out that it is possible to actually choke on your own fist when you’re trying to stifle your laughter to keep from waking up the resident storm chaser.

    Scientific discovery is my life.

  9. max

    The storm chaser can take it. He is a big strong man.

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