In our first installment, we at Jewlarious, shared our momentous interview with the recently discovered 3000 year old Jewish woman: Sylvia. OK she will be 3000 and ½ – in October, but who’s counting? Unfortunately, we had to cut the interview short when Sylvia had to take a nap. But soon enough she woke up, we ate some tzimmis and we continued.

My father worked for the biggest Sand Counting firm, but were they anti-Semites!

JEWLARIOUS: Sylvia, last time we were talking about your husbands. You said you had 587 … give or take. Tell me about some of them.

SYLVIA: Hmmm. I mentioned that gorgeous I wasn’t. In fact I was a bissel zaftig in all the wrong places. Also, my father, God rest his soul, had a lowly job. He was a sand counter so –

JEWLARIOUS: Wait. Why count sand?

SYLVIA: How many jobs were there back then? He worked for the biggest Sand Counting firm, but were they anti-Semites! He was the best but he never even got promoted to sand polishing. Every night he’d come back to the hut cross-eyed, but the man could find a needle in a haystack.

JEWLARIOUS: Wait. You had hay in the desert?

SYLVIA: Of course not. His foreman once said: “Hey, look at that sand stack! You could find even a beetle in there.” Years later, the goyim got it mixed up with haystacks and needles. Anyway, had he risen to sand polishing I would’ve had a decent dowry. Instead, all I came with was a lifetime supply of sand fleas and ants. So the matchmaker fixed me up with Yossel Yossel. Ambitious he wasn’t. All day and all night long, he made little colonies from the fleas and ants. Not one word to me. I was so frustrated, one day, I drowned his colonies! He never recovered.

JEWLARIOUS: You mentioned he was called Yossel Yossel? What was his last name?

SYLVIA: Yossel! In the beginning we had maybe 10 names. Everyone was called for example, Yossel, Rivka, Sylvia, Chaim, Shlomo, ChananyaYomTovLipa, or Morris. When the population was around 50, we just repeated. So it became Rivka Rivka … then Rivka Rivka Rivka. I, for example was Sylvia Sylvia Sylvia Sylvia Sylvia. OY VEY! It took Yossel Yossel an hour to call me. Which is how I got burned when we had a fire in our hut. I still have the scars on my belly. Here, I’ll show you--

JEWLARIOUS: No really, that’s okay.

SYLVIA: Not only was this name thing dangerous, but very annoying. Something had to be done, so we called a meeting. It was Morris Morris Morris I think who said, “Let us number.” So we numbered the names we had, like Yossel IX, Rivka VI. However, when we got bigger, it was a little unwieldy, especially in Roman numerals. By the time we got to ChananyaYomTovLipa LXXXVIII, MorrisLXXXV1 called yet another meeting. Oy, do we Jews love meetings. Anyway, he said, “I know! Let’s give us more than one name, but he was stuck on how. Suggestions flew like you wouldn’t believe. Maybe our jobs, where we were born, what we looked like, our relatives, personality, our favorite food, whatever. So we made a list. For example, Chaim LXXXIV, who thought “wetness” was interesting was thereafter called Chaim Yankel. On the other hand, the ChananyaYomTovLipas from X111 on were so lucky they found an oil can, so we named them ChananyaYomTovLipas Glickstein. It worked except for the huge feud between the skis and the skys like Nudnikski vs. Nudniksky. Each thought the other had a goyishe name. For 200 years wars broke out. This of course is why we called them Nudniks in the first place. The town was divided. Personally, I was an independent. I thought the whole thing was narishkeit!

JEWLARIOUS: Very interesting. But can we get back to your other husbands?

SYLVIA: Well, hmmm. There was Hymie Kvetchlivitz. Constantly with the “this chicken soup is too cold or too hot. My chair is too big or too small. My bed is too soft or too hard.” I must say, he made a good living salting lox, and with that golden hair, he was gorgeous. I tell you, about him. Abner Scribnerwitz made a story: “Goldenlox.”

JEWLARIOUS: That sounds a lot like a famous fairy tale, “Goldilocks and the Three Bears,” which I believe was written by a British writer in the 19th century.

SYLVIA: Wrong! This they stole from my husband. Typical! Blame we Jews get, but credit? It was plagiarism! An open and shut case. I tried to sue but the statute of limitations ran out 451 years earlier. Again, a billionaire I would be! But don’t get me started.

JEWLARIOUS: Tell us Sylvia, I understand you have 713 children. With all your wisdom you must know the answer. Is there really such a thing as a “Jewish Mother, and if so what was she like?”

SYLVIA: Of course! Examples you need? OK. What Jewish Mother would tell her son: “Go mamala, fight the lion in the Coliseum? At least it’s a job.” Or, “If Shlomo stuck a cactus up his nose would you?” A Gentile mom would say, “Look, is it my business you put a cactus up your nose? Enjoy!” My dad once was furious. “I saw you swing that bat! Treif!” he said. This is also why later there were very few Jews in baseball. OK, different bats, same principle. Also, my mother tied a rope with a sun dial around me. Wherever I went I swung, and whenever she wanted me, she reeled me in. This she did till my 127th Birthday. Not the goyim. Once a Gentile hit 16, boom! His parents threw him out of their hut. Meanwhile, I wasn’t allowed to walk to the Dead Sea till I was 249.

JEWLARIOUS: Do you think your parents’ Jewish protectiveness contributed to your longevity?

SYLVIA: Of course! Especially when my bff, Jonah, wanted us to play with whales. Oy, that was a close one. I still miss him. We courted for a while. Listen, I just got a text message from one of my descendants, Moshe Dyanken. He’s a big shot with the IDF, so if you’ll kindly excuse me …

JEWLARIOUS: Not a problem. We’ll pick this up later …

SYLVIA: Oy, OK. But next time you bring the tzimmis!