I had big plans for Fall Break. I wanted to go to Vegas. I had visions of flaunting my legality. I would sit at a slot machine, shmooze with Cher and sneak into the Real World suite at the Palms. Then Yom Kippur happened. With a last name like Goodman, I knew I couldn’t spend the holiest day of the year parading around with would–be Vegas showgirls. (Said would­–be showgirls ended up spending their breaks on couches in New Jersey and Los Angeles. Hey guys.) Instead I went home to celebrate the Day of Atonement. But then a terrible, horrible thing happened. I didn’t go to temple. I’m admitting this in print: I didn’t go to temple on Yom Kippur. I didn’t even fast. While my parents were starving and shuckling at shul I was sitting in bed eating challah and watching the CW’s The Secret Circle — all four episodes. Back to back. I guess I can make myself feel better and say that in between tweenage witch clips, I reflected on the past year and repented in my own way. In reality I just snacked on my mom’s homemade matzoh balls. I guess I should have been more productive — or at least more God–fearing — this break. I could have brewed my very own beer like our Ego of the Week (p. 4). I could have watched Rent for the 18th time (p. 11). I could have even gone to see some cool sexy art exhibits in Philly (p. 13). So to all who ask me this weekend, “How was your break?”: I learned a lot about magic and gained three pounds.

Street life,


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