InShidduchim.com: Is That the Jewish Way?

Which caused her to faint again.

Isn’t she in Ecuador? I thought I was following..

However, being that it was almost Thanksgiving, Juan Javier Jose Julio Jones put artificial turkey spice in to his Starbuck coffee.

Unbeknownst to him, but not to his grandmother’s cat, his little nephew, who lived in the coffee factory, was still awake.

Oh, no way, nobody told me this was back!

When suddenly… the door opened and a flood of artificial turkeys came charging in, screaming for revenge for their brethren sacrificed for the sake of seasonally flavored lattes.

(Oh, and Ecuador’s lovely this time of year, thanks for asking.)

when they looked down at the artificial rubber ducks in their hands, they noticed they were all red or green. They immediately tossed them all in to the Kivsan haeish.

The green and red rubber ducks brushed themselves off, held their heads up high, and walked straight in to the closest Chanukah mesibah, with the PETAAAAOO (People for the Ethical Treatment of Artificial Avian Animals Abused by Other Organizations) at their heels.

But then a model Archaeopteryx started a controversy when it applied to volunteer.

I am totally lost at this point, but liked PETAAAAOCTHAAAAOOO .

http://www.theyeshivaworld.com/coffeeroom/profile/inshidduchim

The election began in earnest with the Iowa Caucuses. GOP front-runner Donald Trump seemed to have been negatively affected by the avian population, as he took second place. Meanwhile, others felt the Bern of the upstart Bernie Sanders, as he was neck-and-neck with Hillary Clinton and went to a virtual draw with Mrs. Clinton.

The Queen called the Doctor, Donald Trump called the nurse. But in came Hillary Clinton with an alligator purse.

Bar S. -“Children are a dime a dozen. And to quote Bill Cosby “I’ll kill you son, I can make another one that looks just like you.”

Here’s another one from B.C.- “Since I brought you into this world – I can take you out!”

After a brief brunch in Laos, the Artificial Avian Animals arrived in Taiwan only to find their artificially abandoned nests encrusted with rubber cement.

Meanwhile, Juan Javier Jose Julio Jones slipped right through another potential catastrophe. Lubricating himself with banana splits this time, pareve. He was quite giddy for his Eiffel Tower of Kentucky plans were speedily approved with flying colors.

When Rivky woke up, she thought she haad gone blind. She could not see a thing. Then, after attempting to move her arms, she realized that she was at the bottom of a deep pit filled with plastic balls. She swam to the top, but she saw nothing but colorful plastic all around.

All violent debates aside, Rivky just couldn’t figure out what to wear to the presidential exacerbation. All she had was her white artificial Shabbos dress that got torn in the spin cycle of her artificial washing machine.

Quick she called the rav. He gave her a heter to buy a newly used Shabbos dress from their tzadakah fund. She ordered it on Amazing Savings’s website as the 4 gallon tub of coffee brewed on her umbrella.

After it was boiling and ready, she tossed her former white artificial Shabbos dress in the backyard kiddie pool and then dumped the 3.5 gallons of coffee on top. As the dress turned mocha, she gleefully chugged the half gallon of coffee. Then she called Juan Javier Jose Julio Jones.

Little did Rivky know that this was all a virtual reality that she was viewing from the room with the ball pit. Coincidentally, it was exactly the same as the real reality, except that in the real reality, it was Lauren, not Rivky.

Reuven woke up after years of cryogenically-induced slumber. His old double, Dolphin was beside him. Reuven had no questions. He had been prepared for this moment before he fell asleep. “Time for revenge?” he asked his double and long-time friend.

“As ever” said Dolphin. He handed Reuven a computer with a webcam. Reuven launched the video recording application and spoke.

“This is Reuven. Remember me? You killed my secret twin brother.” Then he stared into the camera menacingly, finished recording it, and emailed it to his brother’s killer.

Suddenly, another Reuven appeared next to Dolphin. But this Reuven was tougher, covered with scars. The real Reuven was shocked. “I thought they killed you!” he said in confusion. “They thought they killed me. But it was you. But it wasn’t you, you’re here. Wait, is it you?” He took a closer look. Yes, there it was. Embedded in this other man’s earlobes and above his eyebrows were tiny pieces of graphite, an accidental tattoo from an unfortunate childhood incident with some pencils, before they had Dolphin as a double.

“Yes, it is I!” proclaimed Reuven’s secret twin. “I thought they killed Dolphin!”

“I’m right here!” said Dolphin.

And that’s how they found out that Dolphin had had a secret brother that he had never known.

Shmuel awoke, heart racing. He had had the dream again. The nightmare. It was always the same. He found himself standing just outside Reuven’s room, listening to the sound of Reuven’s television making staticky noises. He needed to give Reuven a letter he had received in the mail, so he knocked. But Reuven wasn’t alone. A vaguely threatening shape stood over him. At first in his dream Shmuel assumed it was Colonel Mustard with the candlestick, but as he rushed to save his son, he saw the man’s face. And it was his own. Usually, he awoke right there, but this time he had dreamed a little longer. In his dream he had watched himself pulling out a stiletto that was wrapped in Rivky’s dress and stab Reuven.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?

Back in his home, Oscar was trying to choose a personality, but his fatigue was making it difficult. He needed to base his character this time on someone assertive but calm, someone gracefully sly but also down-to-earth and human. For inspiration, he went to the gallery of faces he had worn in his former career as a body double and impersonator. Travis Grunfield, Gary, Paul, Zevulun, John Williams, Shmuel, Shoshana Beis. And then he had it. He as the new Menachem M. Grossman would assume a character similar to Gary, the sly, charming-yet-unlikeable, gracefully clumsy, tall-but-in-a-short-way policeman and track down the man he thought he had killed. Gary had been a disaster. He had nearly been exposed and had fled in shame. But this time, he swore by Baal Zevuv, this time would be his most successful yet. And when he was done, he would rule the world. Then he realized that world domination hadn’t been the objective in the first place and didn’t have to be now. And then he took a nap. But when he awoke, he took on a new form. A far more powerful and dangerous one.

InShidduchim.com: Is That the Jewish Way?

Avaira Walton was tired of being the target of all the bad luck in the world. Unfortunately named for her dad’s favorite brand of contact lenses, sent to an Arabic-speaking and reading school for her first three years by accident (The wrong school bus picked her up every day and nobody questioned it), expected to be a boy (hence her hastily chosen name), she had spend the first 14 years of her life feeling out of place. Her room was decorated with footballs. Real ones from real games, costing a total of $9,000. Until she was five years old and her younger brother was born, her parents mostly pretended she was a boy. After that, she always felt left out, convinced that Guy was their favorite child. At nine years old, due to the school bus mistake, she was behind in English. It was only due to her hard work that she was able to graduate from middle school. Her dad had promised her that she could travel the world for high school. She secretly hoped that she would find a place to belong as she wandered the planet.
But then her parents’ tea business started failing because people thought tea was unhealthy. How would she get the money to travel the world now?

She took a deep shuddering breath, fingering the curtain with a trembling hand. Her heart was beating like the new Eighth Day, only increasing in speed. Would anybody notice her distress?

All around, people were smiling. The lively strains of “Ve-Sein-Bonu”, complete with the slightly off-key harmony from the Kalmanowitz Twins, filled the room. Way down, in the men’s section, energetic bochurim were dancing around the shuffling men, waving Sifrei Torah like Lulavim. Children were frantically making rounds of the room, skipping the back corner to reach Mr Epstien, who always gave the best nosh. Proud fathers held their kids flags and their kids hands. The rav was holding a sefer in the corner, his saintly brow furrowed in concentration. Zeidy Morgenstern was sitting in his wheelchair, clapping enthusiastically out of beat and giving two sweets to the entrepreneurs savvy enough to say thank you. Bobby Smiles, the South American Baal Teshuva, was swinging his angelic son around on his shoulders, and he could actually touch the women’s gallery. Itche Meir was holding his trademark whiskey tumbler, swirling the golden liquid in a way you were only supposed to do to red wine.

To the naked eye, to the average onlooker, it was a regular Simchas Torah in Kehillas Ohel Moshe. But in the ladies gallery, one girl was staring down transfixed, unable to tear her terrified gaze from the tall man who had just entered the Shul. She didn’t hear Aunty Mirel kvell “That’s my Motti! Everyone look!” She didn’t hear Libby strut in on her twelve inch heels, announcing her latest conquest in KosherMart. She didn’t even notice as Rochelle whispered into her ear about Perelle, who was going out again with the illuy from Stamford.

Her eyes were drawn to the one man. Was it him? Could it be him? She hoped it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

As though controlled by some sixth sense, the man stiffened, craning his neck to look at the ladies gallery.

There was a scream, and Ruchy fell to the floor in a dead faint.

Joseph had arrived.

When she told them how ridiculous it made them look that they put scarlet letters on people like some kind of Hawthorne novel, they berated her for her familiarity with goyish literature.

Fortunately, as he was running away from the beagle, he bumped into his sister Tzippy who had faithfully attended B’nos groups every single Shabbos from the age of 5 until she got married at 19, so she knew EXACLTY what to do in such a situation. As soon as she recited the possuk of “l’chol B’nei Yisrael…” in a voice that could be heard for miles away, the beagle instantly retreated in fear, never to be seen or heard from again.