Hudi's Home!

It's official. She's now Mrs. Shloims Volpsy. So many mazal tovs! Shloims' wedding was on Wednesday last week. Mikvah-Jumper Avigayil and I were sitting in the dark room on her bed, watching the livestream while crying hysterically and clutching each other for dear life.  And now they're married. Tuesday night, we went to Sheva Brachos for them. It was so nice to see her, wearing her sheitel and being all married and stuff. They're such cuties!  Anywho, I'm going to quote a friend right now: I feel like a chalkboard. She said this in response to overdosing on Claritin. Ladies and gentleman, let me save you a call to poison control. Only take a Claritin pill once every 24 hours, and do not, I repeat, DO NOT, take 5 in less than 48 hours.  So, that was an interesting experience. But really, I am a shtickle sick, just coughing up a storm. Not too fun.  But I am not too sick to tell you about Shabbos this past week. Where was I? The Shpiegels. What happened there? S...

'Tis Hudi here, writing from her palace of an apartment. Yes, we moved from our lovely shoebox into the even more lovely palace. The dryer exists, the elevator isn't broken, and, most importantly, I will no longer die of heat stroke because we have AC.  Moving into this palace took some work--an entire day's work of schlepping and packing and unpacking and more schlepping. Sunday was a very long, tiring day, starting bright and early at 7:00 am. Well, more accurately, I was up until 3:00 am on Sunday, finishing up some last-minute cleaning, so I guess that's when it started.  Who woulda thunk that moving five minutes away would be such an experience? And yet, it was. Just moving Coco (that's my giant stuffed shark, for all those who don't care about me enough to remember the truly important things in my life) to the palace took a good 15 minutes.  So, that was Sunday. Moving backwards, as I am so apt to do in this blog, Shabbos was so nice. I was in Netivot (AKA...

I'm freeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!! Wow, I don't remember the last time I felt this good. Oh wait, I do. About five months ago, when I finished first semester finals. The feeling that I get when I have no more finals to study for is indescribable. It's similar to the feeling I got when I last escaped prison, the, "I can't believe it. I've been dreaming of this day for my whole life; my whole life was waiting for this exact moment, for me to finally be free again." You think I'm exaggerating? That's because you're not in Machon Tal, taking classes that rival MIT. Did I say rival? I mean beat, crushed, poned as my bros would say. MIT has nothing on us.  Anywho, I am feeling so many happies at this moment. I just finished packing up my life into two suitcases, ready to move into second-year dorms, AKA the Palace. They have, can you believe it, a dryer! And what's more, they have air conditioning. Better yet, a bathtub. We're gonna be living like king...

It's official: I'm going to change your life right now. If you want to continue having the same, boring life and routine, then stop reading. If you want to transform your life, then read on.  It's time to introduce the amazing, the life-changing, the absolutely inspiring, never-written-down before, Unicorn Rule !  Now, everyone and their cousin knows about the five-second rule. If food drops on the floor and stays there for more than five seconds, then all of the little germs on that floor congregate to that lone piece of food and contaminate it until it's no longer fit for human consumption. But I'm here to tell you that that rule is crazy. Five seconds is nothing. Unless you're superman or something, how can you even pick up food in that short amount of time? This rule is wasting food, pure baal tashlich, I tell you.  And so, now, the Unicorn Rule comes into play. As my friend Shana Aleph so aptly told me, "You can eat the dropped food as long as a unicor...

  "I can't lick my own nose!" This was said with great passion,  as if it were some great epiphany,  by my roomie as she ambled into the kitchen. I wanted to take a poll of all those who can lick their own noses, but I felt like that might have been a little mean. After all, it was on Tzivie's birfday that she said such a grand statement. Yes, she's now old and wise. They grow up so fast. Sniffle, sniffle. For her birfday, her sister D. Shparkus surprised her with some cake and balloons, which was just adorable in every way. And her parents got pizza for us all, which was even more adorable.  So, that was yesterday. Let us rewind to last week. The less said about finals, the better. I have tried in vain to come up with a word to describe these finals. The only word that can slightly do them justice is meannastyterribleimpossibleIhateeverysingleonedotheywantustofail???!!!! Last week was our first one, and tomorrow is our second. After that, it all just goes downhil...

So I find myself in a bit of a funny situation. For, you see, I had not planned on writing anything this week. I even told you all that. And yet, here I am, writing this week. So, I hope you all don't think I'm a bit fat liar, or even a small skinny liar, or even a medium-sized, medium-height liar. I'm not a liar, okay. Maybe I was one time once back then, but now I'm not. Honestly.  Glad we cleared up Hoodie's trust issues. Now, we can get to the fun stuff. Our Very Own Contest Winner: 😆😆😆😆 Hudi wants people to write her blog or is it ‘right’ her blog as in לתקן - to fix’ but forgive me I have Ulpan brain. And speaking of brains… er…um… what were we talking about? I walked to the refrigerator with my pen but why would a pen go in the refrigerator?! That would make it cold!! Thank you for asking, no, I’m warm thank you.  Wait? Let me reread what I wrote and I must have written because I have a cold pen.  Oh!! Hudi’s blog. (OPS) and I know you know that I kno...

There were twenty bags of bamba in my closet last week. I think there might be two left, if even that. The ants in our apartment must be getting pretty clever. Oh, who am I kidding? I think I ate five bags in one day.  Bamba is what's getting me through the week, well bamba and chocolate twizzlers of course. Oh, and my friends, I guess.  Guess what's upon me next week? The dreaded, most terrible experience of my life. The worstest thing that can happen to someone. Those terrible, horrible, no good, very bad tests. Finals. I shudder even to write the word, let alone speak it aloud. What sadist came up with the idea of finals worth 90% of your grade?  Anywho, you'll definitely be hearing about finals from me these next few weeks. Because they are so meeeeeean.  We should move onto happier topics now, or I might scream, and I'm currently in the library, and if I scream I would get kicked out, and that would be, although funny for everyone else involved, quite embarrassi...