Robble robble

Between this and the guy panhandling for tampon money in CVS last night, New York has lost it's collective mind.

Stand clear

Ma'am, we can all appreciate how much $76/month is, but no matter how loudly you yell, you can't pay for your prescriptions with a Metrocard.


You have to ask the driver for a transfer to do that.

Eight crazy nights

The Festival of Lights is once again upon us:

Dad: Ho Ho Ho Hannukah!

Mom: Shouldn't it be more like 'Ha Ha Ha Hannukah'?

Dad: Cccho Cccho Cccho Cccccccccchannukah!

Desert at night

This evening, in the middle of our Southern California fact-finding mission, J and I found ourselves driving through the desert that separates Palm Beach and San Bernardino. As we wound our way through the mountains, it was pitch-black, even missing the constant orange glow of some distant city. The sky, punctuated only by differing shades of craggy-edged mountains, glittered with stars we never see.

We passed field after field of wind mills wooshing silently in the inky black night, fascinating and creepy all at the same time.

Ironing

Confidential to the woman with the anti-foie gras, anti-animal testing, anti-fur, anti-meat buttons on your bag on the N train today:

Those are some great suede boots and leather bag.

Happy Thanksgiving!

3WA

On the 5 train last night, I was smushed against two teenage lesbians. I know they were lesbians because they told me so, and also because they licked and groped each other all the way up the east side.

I'm not certain, but after that, I think I've officially been in my first threesome

Yeouch

A little tip from me to you:

When you wear your cute new red pointy-toe flats out for the first time, even though it's oddly warm for November, wear socks. Because when the stiff leather rubs the crap out of your heels, resulting in blisters and raw, red flesh, later on that night, when you take a shower to get the subyway/bar-ness off of you, you're going to swear your shower is broken and is spraying not water, but a nice mix of acid and lemon juice on your feet and holy FUCK does it hurt.

So don't do what Donny Don't did.

Almost-expired transfer

A kid ran in front of the M14 last night and narrowly missed going squish. His mom was about 10 feet away, on her phone and only realized little Timmy was about to become a roadburger when the bus honking and screaming passengers made it too hard for her to hear her conversation. Without missing a beat, she grabbed him 3 inches before contact, and threw him on the sidewalk. Phone still mashed to her ear, she stood on the sidewalk, alternating between screaming at the bus driver "you coulda fucking kilt my kid!" and telling Timmy he deserved to get hit for running away.

Sounds like SOMEONE wants to have it both ways.

Sugar rush

This past weekend, we gave the nephews plastic pumpkin buckets, loaded with skull lollipops that turn your tongue white, chocolate shaped like various body parts, Tootsie Rolls, Dots, and the biggest Halloween score of all, a full-size candy bar from Dylan's. Having much experience in getting "the same thing" as my younger sister, I made sure the buckets were exactly the same, even going so far as making dbg eat a second Tootsie Roll from Bucket #2 after taking one from Bucket #1. They were a big hit on Sunday, as giant loads of sugar tend to be for the 6- and 3-year old sets, but as they tore into them, I realized I made A Fatal Mistake:

One of the candy bars was white. The one in the other bucket was purple. Crap. Crap. CRAP.

Luckily, the lure of dinner was enough to pull them away from SugarFest '06, and all was temporarily forgotten until after the requisite "four bites" rule. Claiming they were much too full for chicken, they ran off to eat more candy. Of course. Expecting the squeals of discontent at any moment, I followed, several steps behind, hoping to head off any bloodshed.

You got purple! I like purple!

Do you want to trade?

Okay!

He may have been covered in skull tattoos and wearing bloody vampire fangs, but a big brother knows when to step up and do the right thing for the little guy.

I don't want your life

Dear Joe:

I'd love it if you started paying your bills, particularly the cash you owe to DirecTV, Bank of America, Cingular, and American Express. As of today, I'm going to be spending more time at home, and I really don't enjoy these daily calls from your creditors. To be fair, its not YOUR fault you don't have a readily available phone number and they're forced to use the phone book, calling the number listed next to J [Conveniently Also Our Last Name.] We can place the blame for that one squarely on the shoulders of the lovely women that demand to know where they can find you, even after I tell them I have no idea who you are. Even better is when they call me a liar and tell me they'll just keep calling until I give them what they want.

In the past two days, I've been accused of "hiding from us" and "ignoring your responsibilities." I've given up asking for a supervisor, because that's usually met with a laugh and refusal. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, they just hang up on me. I'd stop answering the phone but the messages they leave on the voicemail are of the "we break thumbs" variety.

On one hand, dear Joe, you've taught me a valuable lesson about staying on top of my financial responsibilities. Never ever do I want to find myself in your position. There are enough nasty people in my life as it is, I don't need yours too.

Owing money doesn't make you a bad person, but letting someone else get nailed for your problems does. My patience is wearing thin with this one.

J-e-l-l-NO

In preparation for my latest business trip, I've discovered something interesting in the TSA guidelines. While I'm not allowed to carry on toothpaste, lip gloss or pudding, I can legally transport screwdrivers, a corkscrew and knitting needles. So personal grooming falls by the wayside, but should I fancy an '83 merlot whilst making a sweater and come across a loose seat cushion, I'm totally set.

I'm a little afraid though, of thinking about how pudding came to be outlawed.

Five years ago today will never be the same.

Croc!

In what world does it make sense to swap your flip-flops for a pair of Crocs? Isn't that sort of a lateral move? While on my way home from work this evening, I saw a bunch of women in the sneaker store, trading their running shoes, flip-flops and clogs for Crocs. Candy-colored, clown-feet, Crocs.

I will also mention that one of the traders was wearing leggings and a wee denim skirt, so maybe she was just trapped in a trend vortex.

Row, row, row my boat...

We just got back from a week-long cruise to the Bahamas, and after some time on dry land, there's still something inside me, rocking back and forth. It's like my spleen didn't get the memo.

This being my first time on a cruise, it's a pretty nice, budget-friendly, low-stress way to travel. You get on the boat, and boom, vacation. They even made us feel super at home by scaling the cabins down to shoebox-size, just like our apartment. The boat was a lot of sun, fun and fruity drinks. We didn't win any of the Bingo games, but I did walk away with a free cocktail and 10 bucks for pulling a winning number out of a raffle drum. We also came away with a bag of NCL keychains, luggage tags and beer cozies for winning both Name that Tune and Pub Trivia. Also, a lot of duty-free liquor. Woo.

The one thing I'd definitely never do again though, is cruise during hurricane season. Because when Ernesto comes a'calling to The Carolinas and Virginia and you have to sail through it, the result is your clothes all fallen off the closet shelves and the garbage can being used in a way the good lord never intended.

Raid

A giant bug has currently made itself at home in my bathroom, which does not please me. After much shrieking, gnashing of teeth and waving of folded up magazines, J finally convinced me to take my shower, which I did, under the condition that he stood guard.

Considering our apartment is the size of a postage stamp, he happily agreed, seeing as how he could do it while lying on the couch, watching the Mets game.

Medic!

Starting from the top and working my way down, my current injuries since starting this project include:

1. Large, red bump on my forehead. I dropped something between the tub and toilet, and when I stood up, royally clocked my noggin on the Cold knob of the shower.

2. Sore throat, cough and congestion. The throat is getting better, but the sinuses are always conspiring to turn on me, so I expect that to get a lot worse before it gets better.

3. Various bruises from shoulder to wrist, both hands. These most certainly came from loading and unloading the van several hundred times in two days, carrying tables and racks, lugging flats of water and juice all over creation, carrying several cast iron pots and a variety of other things.

4. Sprained right wrist. This one is the biggest and really, my crowning achievement. Most likely obtained after loading a very, very, very large Target order into the back of an SUV, and made worst by working on it, full-force, for two days straight. Dr. Lu says to rest and ice it. I've penciled that in for September. Maybe.

5. Stab wound (small) on left-hand middle finger. Done today, while slicing a bagel. Last Tetanus shot was August 2002, so despite J's repeated attempts to use the Mute button on me, I probably won't be getting lockjaw any time soon.

6. Slice across right pinky. Opening a box of tapes always comes with a certain risk.

7. Bruised and swollen right knee. When you go tearing across a concrete floor at top speed and slip on a wet patch and, after much flailing, you finally come crashing down on that knee, it turns lovely shades of red and purple.

8. Nine-inch long scratch, left calf. No idea where that came from. Possible tiger-attack.

9. Large, swollen bruise, arch of right foot. Running from Point A to Point F while working, I snagged the side of my foot on the edge of a cable cover on the floor. Being a moron, I was wearing flipflops, and can only blame myself for that one.

10. Large bruise/possible fracture, right foot. A folding chair was hovering over my foot, totally unnoticed by myself or the sitter. I think we all know what happened next. I can walk on it just find, but it hurts a lot in the morning and if I sit down for a bit or rest it, it's painful when I get up. I should probably get it x-ray'd, but eh.

Honorable mentions: a wicked sinus headache, major sleep deprivation, and several spectacular ass-over-teakettle falls, in front of at least seven people while working (see #7 above.) I really earned that COBRA this month, I tell you what. While I anticipate a full recovery, I'm also 100% that after looking at my August schedule, it's quite likely I'll be in several pieces by Labor Day.

RIP Stripey

At the new office, we have a big, schmancy fishtank, filled with colorful, expensive fish. It's said The Fish are silent partners in the firm, and judging by the almost full-page of feeding instructions they come with, it'd be wise never to get on their bad side.

Enter Stripey, a pretty red- and white-striped fish. I told him he looked like a candy cane; he blew bubbles while swimming into the side of the tank. Sometime overnight, the rest of the tank went all Animal Planet on Stripey's striped butt and ATE HIM. When we came in this morning, he was still swimming happily around in the tank, albeit it a little (more) confused, covered in bite marks, trailing little pieces of...himself behind him. Ouch.

As the day went on, Stripey seemed less and less interested in swimming and became more concerned with keeping his fins, because his former friends KEPT EATING HIM. They followed him around the tank, nipped at his nonexistent heels, until he finally sat down on the bottom of the tank and promptly floated to the top.

By the end of the day, all that was left of poor Stripey was a fin and some scales. No one can figure out what caused his tankmates to go all Lord of the Flies on his ass, but I know one thing for sure, and that's to never be the last person left in the office with those fish.

You can always get it right next time

It's amazing. I get a job, and poof, there goes all my free time. Like 2:00pm. Or 4:52pm. Times like that.

On the other hand, I traded all those hours for the return of my sanity, so I think it's fair.

For a variety of reasons that have nothing to do with any of you, I can't go into too much detail about the new job, but what I can tell you, is that the position is exactly what I was looking for and is a great project. While I definitely don't believe that my misery level was conversely related to the kind of job I was going to land, but I also didn't have any choice. I had to be patient and wait it out for the right one to come along. For the next few weeks, it has, and I'm not going to take it for granted. I haven't started with the coming in early and leaving late business, but I also haven't downloaded Instant Messenger or bookmarked any other sites than the ones I need for work.

It's interesting, actually, how this job has played out so far. It's in the same industry, but at a higher level, doing some of things I used to do, but more, with loads of responsibility and much higher stakes. It's funny though; I don't know if I've changed much over the year, or just know what's on the line, but tasks that used to be difficult, things given to me as a test, are now What I Do. They aren't as difficult or scary as they once seemed. I still talk way too fast on the phone and still make notes ahead of time for said-conversations, but the old fears of Can I do this? Holy crap, I can't do this!, When will I screw this up? How long until they realize I'm a fraud?, while still there, are much, much less pressing. I'll spend the day checking things off the list, and it won't be until I'm at Starbucks or waiting in front of the printer that my psyche is all wait, weren't we supposed to be nervous back there? Aren't we supposed to assume we were wrong? It's a nice feeling, but I don't want to get used to it just yet.

I didn't lose my job last summer because I was bad at it, and while I gave it my best effort 97% of the time, I was definitely comfortable, and that made having the rug pulled out from under me much, much worse. I don't regret letting that job become part of me, but this time around, I'm keeping a look out for The Next Big Thing for what comes next. I'd like it to be where I am, but I don't want to be caught out there again like last time.

z-y-z...

What do the following words have in common?

Trump
Starbucks
Walgreens
Bronx

They're all really, really fun to stay backwards. Try it with the kids!