Ignorance is Bris (Part 1)

You are jealous of my plans for today. You do not even know what they are (the plans), but you are jealous of them — and thus, by extension, ME — anyway. “Why’s she get to have all the fun?” you say, and then fashion a Jewdoo doll out of bits of tofu and hair into what you assume is my likeness and proceed to do all sorts of not so very nice things to it to ensure that any FUN you think I’ll be having today is, well, uhm, not so fun.
Does it help any if you know that my plans include a Greyhound bus ride and a bris? Are you less jealous now? If not, please realize that anything you do to the Jewdoo doll won’t compare to the pain I’ll feel when my friend’s son’s baby bits are in the hands (but I hope not the mouth! It’s taking everything I have not to say something untoward about Baby’s First Blow Job … really, it’s almost painful for me not to say it) of some matzoh-mouthed mohel.
I plan to endure the pain of this ceremony the way I did the last and only other time I was subjected to a bris (my nephew’s, in 1986), and that is in the ladies room with my head between my knees (not as hott as it sounds), trying not to lose the lunch I anticipate I won’t be able to eat after being even remotely involved in this thing.
In order to ease your pain and any residual pangs of jealousy you may still be experiencing, I am bestowing upon you a very nice song. Enjoy!

Today is the last day you can participate in “What Is It?” (scroll down), so be sure to make your voice heard if you have not already done so. And even if you’ve already done so, feel free to guess again, because as of this writing (8:25 a.m.) no one has correctly identified the mystery item.