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Who says that life here on earth is not ordained in the heavens? With the cosmic alignment of Mars and Venus, came profound earthly delights. Perhaps the most telling example was finding my one true.... parking spot....adjacent to the restaurant in NYC. This was no ordinary spot. It had the dimensions of a machmir's shiur for maror on pesach or better yet it was the size of the biblical Kibeitzah which everyone knows has roughly dinosaur proportions. In my giddiness and excitement of the find, I pulled the car forward and back, to and fro multiple times, until perfect alignment with the curb was achieved. Passerbys stared but I know not why.Let us not forget, o polytheistic friends of mine, that there are many supernatural forces that demand their due. Like no-child-left-behind, there is no street corner without the avodah zarah totem pole known as the Muni-Meter. With respect, I prostrated myself before it to no avail. As G-d turned away from Cain's offering, so did this enigmatic entity deny me. It asserted its divinity by not printing me a receipt, then once again denying my credit card. Only after the third offering of my plastic sacrifice, did it take its fill and allow the preordained events of the evening to unfold.
Representing the seven sefirot of heaven, seven woman in pagan garb served us a special treat in honor of the impending holiday. As you, of the Jewdoo cult, know, some people bake a key into challah as a segulah for whatever . I was surprised to see a key protruding through the falafel ball (yeah, I'm a big spender). What that key will unlock is yet to be seen. I was told it was the master key to the elevator; which buttons you press will determine which direction life will take you.
While smiling and making eye contact, all the time attempting to do what no man has done before, I listened to her. But as fate would have it, there was another voice that needed my attention. A voice from below made its instructions known to me on a visceral level. It deprived me of any desire for alcohol. It is my custom to drink at least the minimum requisite drink as a patron enjoying funky music. I learned this from the patriarch Abraham who, out of respect for the host, was sure to use the innkeepers services rather than provide for himself. But last night, I broke tradition and heeded that haunting voice. My gut told me it was the proper course of action. And as every guy knows, the gut is the supreme deity of man. Alimentary, my dear Watson. And again as fate would have it, the sobriety checkpoint was a (sea)breeze. Alignment again. Get out of jail free.
All I can say is that this was no AVERAGE/MEDIUM evening!
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