Just as I was finishing the remains of a bag of garlic flavored pita chips on Sunday afternoon, I got a call from this chick with whom I was set up by an acquaintance. I've specifically used the word "acquaintance" because this matchmaker is no friend...not because I have anything against her, I just barely know her. She's the friend of the daughter of a friend's business partner. I met her once for about 10 seconds somewhere at some point in time. It might have been at a wedding, at a funeral, or at one of those self thrown birthday parties people are so fond of having. Shit, it might have been her party. I just remember meeting her, and she was kind enough to think of me when it came to setting up her friend. Truth is, it was probably more like my friend pathetically asking her on my behalf, "Don't you have anyone for him?," and her responding, "Well, I do have a single friend with an available vagina." And the number was given to me. And I called. And I left a voicemail.
It was as I was chewing the last few bites of the chips that the phone rang, and her number popped up on the Caller ID. I didn't want to answer with a full mouth, but I had no choice. I had nowhere to spit out what I was eating, and I didn't want to miss the call, and do the phone tag thing for another week. I picked up, said hello, let her say hi, and apologized for answering with a mouth full of pita chips.
"Oh, you're eating pita chips?," she asked in what sounded like a disappointed tone.
"Yeah," I said, as I swallowed the last few bites, "I just got turned on to them a few weeks ago. Now I'm addicted."
"So you don't keep Passover?"
"Depends on what you mean by 'keep.' I do the seder thing with the family, but..."
"You eat bread," she said, finishing my sentence.
"Yeah. You don't, I'm guessing."
"Absolutely not. If I do it, I do it all the way. It's nice that you have the seder with your family, but what's the point, if you eat bread?"
A religious debate less than a minute into the conversation. I was already deleting her number from my cell phone.
"I didn't eat bread at the seder," I responded.
"But you do the rest of the week. I don't like when people do things half assed, ya' know? It's like you either keep the holiday, or you don't," she said in an accusatory tone.
"Uh huh," I said, as I debated if I should say what, in the end, I just couldn't resist saying: "Isn't today a part of the holiday when you're not supposed to be talking on the phone?"
"Yes, but I'm not Orthodox."
"No. Just half assed....Are you seeing the irony here?"
I didn't actually have the balls to say that last line, but I also didn't need to be preached to by the Commissioner of the fucking Passover Police - especially one that commits the exact crime she professes to despise. I thought about telling her I had another call that I had to take, but she beat me to the punch with an equally unbelievable, "I totally forgot. I have to go meet a friend. Can we talk later?"
"S-u-u-u-u-re," I said with the mock enthusiasm her lame excuse deserved. "Go have fun with your friends."
We hung up. I then brushed my teeth to get rid of the garlic breath, and the taste left in my mouth by the conversation with the Matzah Nazi.