My mom’s newest bestie is the hot bully Luke from the show that formed my personality in high school. ~The O.C.~. IRL he’s Chris Carmack, and he’s gone to other shows like Nashville and Grey’s etc but he’ll always be a shirtless model/bad boy to me. From 2003-2007 Seth Cohen (Adam Brody) was my ideal Jewish husband and Luke Ward (Chris aka Nicole’s BFF) was the WASPy cheating toxic boyfriend of my dreams.
Chris is new to the neighborhood, and my mom, without knowing who tf he was, became his pal. She’s already made his family a cake, given him directions for sandbags for the non-hurricane they had, and offered my help in babysitting. I have never watched a baby, and had to quickly rescind the offer- but still. I obvi wanted to meet him because I love famous people, but insisted it be a natural run in. With two days left of my trip I hadn’t met him and I was totally okay with that because first and foremost I identify as “cool.”
Yesterday I had a long ass day yesterday of heiressing:
8am 45 min drive with my dad to Steamer Cleaners
noon lunch at fab Petit Trois except hot chef Ludo wasn’t there so less fab
3-4pm therapy- where I had to deal with the fact that I have seen Lance Bass 3 times since April, and he is not obsessed with me (back)
I needed to reset my brain, so I made the ultimate self-care commitment and washed my hair. I put on a Juicy crystal butt-stamped sweat pant, wet hair in a presidential low bun, longline sports bra top cemented with 3 cats’ worth of fur, wet hair in a presidential low bun, bright pink plastic Birks, and topped it all off with an oversized dad Rotary club hat.
I invited my mom on a walk outside and within 4 minutes we ran into ChrisLukeOC and his entire perfect family. Now, this is a man whose Abercrombie bag photos lined my locker in 2004. I was standing there, with only non-tinted sunblock on my face, a newly squeezed line of forehead zits from a Friday eyebrow wax, and dripping bun. We met and chatted and he was an absolute angel with a perfect delicious family. I very openly explained that it was my nightmare for them to see me in my current physical condition, and that I was a big fan of his talents. We had a cute ass time and I did the classic “Jews say goodbye and never leave," line to really force my mom back on track so we could leave them alone because we probably chatted for a solid 30 minutes. My hair was dry by this point.
We ran into them AGAIN on this walk, and I was able to reformat my thoughts and remember a core O.C. mem to tell to him.
Shiva Baby is not just a sexy Jewish bicon indie film, but the theme for the next portion of this story. Minus anything sexy because literally nothing sexy happened for another entire two years after this story took place. Maybe three years. Not the point.
It was a romantically chilly fall day during my fourteenth year of life. An unpopular temple mom’s mother had just died. Ilana (my sister, but you know that) went to school with this granddaughter, and never really liked the kid either. The family lived down the street from mine, and I was always avoiding them outside because they were annoying and uncool. We had such a few Jews in our area, and I really didn’t need them bringing down the rebranding I was working tirelessly on for Judaism.
For the week after a Jew’s burial, the family has to sit around sad and mirrorless for an entire week with nightly services. For it to “count” (because God loves rules and discrediting shit?), 10 “real” Jews have to be there for a minyan. So, this annoying fam couldn’t wrangle a group together and my mom, yet again, offered my participation. Because guilt use to work really well on me, I said I would be there as a counting (Bat Mitzvah’d Jew) (yeah so dumb) as long as it was clear I had to be out by 8:45pm. AT THE LATEST. A new episode of The O.C. was on at 9pm and I HAD to be home in time to pee and get a beverage (perhaps a fall tea??) before I settled in. This was the olden days of your dad (Muslim and therefore useless for Shiva) fucking up recording on the VCR, and I would not be risking that again.
My mom said that would be fine, and to tell the Rabbi as soon as we got there. I see myself as a philanthropist and love a mitzvah so I stepped up, risking my social standing and everything. The Rabbi was being pretty lackadaisical with the schedule, and I absolutely had to remind him that if he wanted this Mourner’s Kaddish to be taken into heaven’s consideration he better stay on track. By 8:44pm I checked my Nokia’s time just in time for our creepy-ass amens. With maybe 14 seconds to spare I made my mom sprint with me out to the car so I could get home to inject my veins with the best of what Fox had to offer. Rich thin hot high schoolers who drank, did drugs, and had sex. All of my dreams. I couldn’t get enough.
I told a shortened (I hope) version of this story to my new friend Chris. He said it was maybe the best O.C. anecdote he had ever heard and that made my entire life.
I didn’t mention that in 2013 when Adam Brody proposed to Leighton Meester I cried, and my mother responded, in pure delulu, “it’s only because he hadn’t met you first.”
I’ve been home for a week and that’s what today’s post is about.
xoxo,
