Sexual Deviancy in Literary Cover Letters

Every manuscript sent to my bosses office must be accompanied by a cover letter.  Just like any other kind of cover letter, this is the writer's opportunity to show off his writing skills and pitch his story.  Let me tell you, I've worked at this literary agency for 2 months now and I swear, I've read it all.  2 MONTHS!...and I've read things that would give you nightmares.  For instance, here's an example of one pitch in a cover letter we received:

Dear Literary Agent,

When I was in high school, I had a rape fantasy involving Shredder from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Ummmmmmm...

Yes, sexual deviancy makes for a good read, but it's not a good idea to make your prospective agent want to rush home and scrub their body raw with a brilo pad with just the cover letter!  

The High Price of Singles Events

So...they're not kidding when they say these singles events are for Jewish professionals.  I'm glad all these Jewish doctors/lawyers/investment bankers are willing and able to spend $50 for one free drink and a room full of drunk, Jewish women.  Unfortunately, I can't afford to be one of those women.  I'm gonna have to find myself a Jewish sugar-daddy just to attend the singles events!  EVERY WEEK I get an email about a new singles event, and they always range from $25-$175!  We're in a recession, people!!!

My sister had it right when she said, "You can't spend your small amount of money on singles events, but don't worry... Hashem won't put your besheret there until you can afford it."

Crazy NY Subway Experience #1

My roommate, Sam, and I were heading to Brooklyn.  My best friend Amy was throwing a birthday party for her roommate and she invited us.  Before walking to our subway station, we stopped across the street to buy a bottle of cheap champagne.

The subway was packed.  Sam and I had managed to snag seats, while the rest of the train car was filled with people standing and awkwardly trying not to fall into each other every time the train unexpectedly jolted.

I sat cradling the champagne bottle when a black man, decked head to toe in Sean John, asked what was in the bottle.

"Oh, nothing," I said, actually thinking this would make him leave me alone. 

"Why are you avoiding the question?"  He asked.

"It's champagne," I said, trying not to make eye contact.

"Well lets bust that s*** open!"  He laughed, nudging his companions who laughed with him.

"I can't, it's for my friend's birthday."  I looked at Sam, hoping if we had to rumble with these guys over a bottle of cheap champagne, her badass Philly chick side would come out and scrub the floor with them, but she just pretended not hear anything... thanks Sam.

"What if the train stalls and we are stuck in here for hours and we're really thirsty?"  He asked.  Before I could answer, he added "...and I sing to you!?"

I looked at him in the eye for the first time.  "Ok...if the train gets stuck for hours, and you sing to me, I will open the champagne. "  

And G-d, with His fabulous sense of humor, stalled the damn train.  It sat next to the platform, but the doors would not open and the driver came over the intercom to tell the crowded cars to be patient.

"BUST IT OPEN!"  Yelled the man.  I could hear the guy next to me sniggering to himself.

"Hey, you said you would sing to me first," I flung back, thinking I had shut him up.

Turns out this guy is a really good singer!  He started singing an R&B type melody, complete with the lyrics "Open the champagne, girl, just open the champagne."  The crowded subway car fell silent as the guy sung louder and louder, right at me.  I could feel my face blushing bright red as the other passengers laughed and clapped along with the singing.

Just as the song came to a close the subway doors opened and he prepared to step out, obviously disappointed.

"I'm sorry I couldn't open it for you," I said as he prepared to leave.  "But you're really good...you should totally audition for American Idol!"  

As the train pulled away from the platform, a girl a few seats down said, "that song is gonna be stuck in my head all night."

Crazy NY Subway Experience #1:  Being serenaded on a crowded car.

SawYouatSinai vs. JDate: What's the right choice for YOU?

So...you're single. You're Jewish. You live in New York. What do you do now? I'll tell you! You put a profile of yourself online and wait for the great, Jewish boys to start buying you dinner.

And by great, I mean boring/narcissistic/illegally living in the country/possibly gay. These are the men that now inhabit my world.

SawYouatSinai: Your profile is totally private until you approve a match. You get your own Yenta, who makes the matches for you. You get to pick her out and everything!! Every time I get an email announcing a new match, I'm swept up into my own, private Anatevka, where I'm praying my matchmaker hasn't matched me with someone awful. "You gotta kiss a lot of toads," my matchmaker said to me recently... While I considered her advice admirable, my lips weren't going anywhere near my last date's face.

JDate: Oh, where to begin...I know! Lets start with all the NON-Jews on JDate. The site is chalk full of goyims who share the same fetish... nice, Jewish girls. Emails from these "gentlemen" usually include the phrase "gotta webcam?"...these emails get erased immediately. Keeping in touch with the rest of the interested Jews on the site can become a full-time job. Dare you spend more then 5 minutes online, you will be bombarded with instant messages from prospective dates. "You're cute, wanna get a drink?" "Where in Colorado are you from? Wanna get a drink?" "Gotta webcam? Wanna get a drink?" After sifting through the pile of Yids, I usually find myself with 3 dates a week. It's really exhausting.

While I'm reserving full blogs to some especially, er, "special" dates, I'd like to take this moment to mock Mr. Narcissistic. This gem was one of the first guys I talked to on JDate. We had emailed a few times and I sent him my number. I became slightly alarmed when he proudly declared, "I'm the guy everyone wants to be when they see me walk into the room!"

"Are you serious?" I asked.

Mr. N ignores my question and continues. "When I walk into a party, I'm the center of attention. People just flock to me."

"Uh huh," I reply, wondering how I'm going to let this guy know he's making me nauseous with out being too mean.

"I'm looking for a girl who is the exact opposite. Who's quiet and shy and just hangs on me the whole night." He actually said this!...and I took this as my out.

"Wow, well, you seem like a *gulp* great guy, but I'm not who you're looking for."

"What are you talking about? I haven't even pretended to get another call yet!" Again I emphasize, he actually said these things!

"I'm sorry, I'm just not good enough for you." Click. I give myself props for making my rejection of this guy into his rejection of me, his monstrous ego never knowing the difference.

Thus, with this first encounter, I begin my journey through internet dating.

Rachel in a Chick-Lit

Hello close family and friends!... a.k.a. probably the only people who will read this!

As most of you know, I moved to New York City over 2 months ago. While I've enjoyed recounting the same stories over and over again, I've decided to start a blog.

This blog will include details of my "exciting new job" as a literary agent's assistant, trying to find work in a city suffering badly from the recession, my new unpaid, full-time job of Jewish online dating and other random stories that I think you should be made to read.

Before I begin, I feel I should explain what exactly a chick-lit is... Chick-lit: short for chick-literature (think chick-flick, but books). Includes books like Bridget Jones' Diary and Confessions of a Shopaholic. These books are always about very imperfect women trying to make their careers, love-lives, etc into things to be proud of. This now describes me...

I've recently graduated college, recently moved to Manhattan, and recently became single. I am supporting myself (mostly) for the first time in my life and discovering that one package of spaghetti can make a lot of meals. I am the ultimate/cliche chick-lit character!

So, draw yourself a bubble bath, pour yourself a strong cocktail and bust out your Virginia Slims, cause I've got some blogs comin' at ya!