I just had one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I got to go to Israel on Birthright… and discover the shekel. Now, one might think that there's a lot more to take away from Israel than the shekel, and that is very true. I also took home some Bamba.

In honor of the 29th of February, I decided to not have a very ordinary day. I chose to have a day that might happen only once every 4 years. At least in my life anyway. A day in which I tried to do something that started with every letter of the alphabet. Following is a list of my activities that took place throughout the day.

I recently learned that there are more divorces today then tattoo removals. I'm assuming that’s a fact. And while both are supposed to be permanent, the tattoo ironically seems to be the one that sticks around till death do you part. Well, let's just say till death.

I am probably going to die of a heart attack. Or not. I don’t know. I’ll probably have to wait until to find out. Most likely, my hypochondria is going to be the end of me. It may even cause that heart attack. I let my hypochondria run rampant so much that any time I feel anything out of the ordinary, I think “Hmmm, how’s this going to kill me?”

When I was 13, I knew nothing. In fact, when it was 13 minutes ago I knew nothing. Even more in fact, when I started writing this sentence, I had no idea how it would triangle fish button. See? Knew nothing. The point is that when it came to my own bar mitzvah, I wasn’t aware enough to appreciate it for what it was.

Welcome, welcome, welcome! Yes, welcome to my blog. A blog where I like to treat my readers right. So that's why I came up with this idea that instead of giving you one blog every now and again, I should give you a whole bunch at once. I'm doing this because I love you. And you're very attractive.

Chanuka, Chanukah, Chanukkah, Hanukah, Hannukah and my personal favorite, Cha-noo-kah. The list goes on and on but I only have so much time here. As you can see, there is not as much care put into the spelling of this holiday because, contrary to popular belief, this holiday is not nearly as important as a multitude of others.

I submitted this blog at the last second. Really. I did. Do you have any idea how long this took me to write? Months. Months would be a lie. Weeks. Weeks would also be a lie. But days…days would be accurate. I’m already procrastinating on getting to the point so let’s just get there, shall we?

That’s a bad title. I’m sorry. I mean, I apologize. I mean…I have to stop that. I say something along these lines more than I rightfully should. Maybe it’s the stereotypical Jewish guilt. I don’t know. Sorry I brought it up. Whoops. There I go again. See? My apologizing is getting superfluous.

The dumbest thing I do every year is to complain about hunger in the immediate hours after the sun goes down on the night of Kol Nidre. For whatever reason, those first hours always seem much tougher than the final ones.

I am alive to write this thanks to my hypochondria. Remember my hypochondria? Of course you do. I talked about it so much that one time. See my hypochondria led to me successfully realize I had a ticking time bomb in my abdomen. That ticking time bomb was appendicitis and I was going to have to have surgery.

Welcome, welcome, welcome. Yes, welcome to my blog…again! For you see, this is not the first time I have treated my oh so attractive readers with such generosity that is currently happening and is about to follow. I gave you a great six mini blogs for the price of one deal before and feel you deserve the privilege yet again. I'm like a Groupon. Or perhaps, a Jewpon if you will. And oh, I will.

I have never been so shaken so quickly as I was today. When I first saw the story, all I saw were random words, phrases and numbers and they added up to something insane that made me feel some sort of emotion I can’t comprehend right now.

1. Shorten the titles of my blogs for Oy!Chicago.
2. Stop listing things before the actual introductions of my blogs for Oy!Chicago.
Welcome to the delayed introduction of my blog post for Oy!Chicago! A post that is so much more than a blog. A blog that is, in fact, a vessel of hope and inspiration for the full year lying before us.

If there’s one thing I do in abundance, it’s make fun of myself. I have to in order to survive. It’s a defense mechanism as well as a way of life for me. Even without being prompted, the self-deprecation I have towards myself is always there, but only because I love who I am. When someone tells me I’m funny, I instinctively say it’s because of the face. It’s always good for at least one laugh.

Okay. I lied. There are no other stories. Yes, I must be the wicked child. Despite my age of 25 (going on 26!), I am still a child. Passover still tends to be one of my favorite Jewish holidays of the year. Believe me, when I’m in my local Jewel Osco, and yes I shop there because it’s JEW-el Osco, I never PASS OVER the chance to check out the kosher section.

Roger Ebert’s passing hit me hard – harder than I would have imagined. The effect was so profound I simply expressed that now all the greatest reviews for movies have been officially written. I always respected Ebert as a writer rivaled by very few and as a voice of honesty.

This year, May 20 was the most significant May 20 I had since the May 20 that was 13 years ago. For you see, on this May 20, it was exactly 13 years since my Bar Mitzvah, or as I have been saying, the Bar Mitzvah of my Bar Mitzvah. I should make that the title of this post.