Nope, not yet

I thought I might wake up feeling better about things today, but no. Not even close. I'm still bitter about the bicycle. Still bitter that I have to wake up at 8am five days in a row. Still bitter that I don't have Internet. Still bitter that the job that promised me health insurance has arbitrarily decided they can't afford it now and aren't going to give it to me. Motherfuckers, don't they know that that's the only reason I even TOOK that fucking job? Now I have to go look for another one. I HATE looking for work.

I also hate that I'm going to be without a bathroom for two days again, provided the motherfuckers show up like they're supposed to tomorrow. I'd like to go stay with a friend, but the Internet assholes are coming Thursday morning and I need to be here to let them in.

From what I hear, certain people regret challenging me to post something everyday for a month. From what I hear, certain people didn't realize I was so angry and hateful right now. I tried to warn certain people about this in the first place, I distinctly remember saying, "I really don't want to talk about things right now, I have nothing to say," but certain people didn't want to listen. Too late now, oh fucking well. Everyday for a month. You got it. Happy now?

More fuel for the fire

Things were looking up for a minute there.  It was a good weekend, I got lots of sleep.  I made an appointment for someone to come finish my bathroom floor Wednesday morning. (they'd better fucking show up)  I went and bought lots of happy, clothes and a wine rack.  All kinds of shit, crazy on sale.  All over the neighborhood.

So yeah, I thought things might be on an upswing, I thought my mood might be about to improve, then I got a phone call last night informing me that the bicycle I left in New Orleans had been stolen.

Moth-er-FUCK-er.

I LOVED that fucking bicycle.  We went everywhere together.  FUUUCK.

This is the only picture I have.  I took it with my phone when I brought it home:

                


Now I have no fucking transportation when I visit.  Fantastic.  This is getting better and better.

It's quite a feeling, being fucked over in absentia.  I wasn't in the same zip-code, wasn't even in the same TIME ZONE.  And still?

I don't even know what else to say anymore.

Shadow Shot Sunday

Brooklyn, New York
at dba after the Saints game last week


dba is the best place to watch a Saints game around here.  Bar None is too intense, East Village Tavern is too disconnected.  dba is like home, especially when Simon is there with his Tchoup Shop, can you say crawfish macque choux, seafood gumbo and short-rib pies?  Best bar food ever.  Simon and Jack were sitting next to me on the plane back to NY when I went to New Orleans for Halloween, but I was too whacked out on Valium to hold a coherent conversation.  We exchanged Halloween stories and I passed out, that was pretty much the extent of our interaction until we landed.

I took this photo out back smoking and drinking with the boys after the game.  It was an easy win, a boring game, and we had already moved on to plotting world domination...

                


dba is one of my favorite bars on the planet.  I spent way too much time and money at their Frenchmen St. location when I lived in New Orleans.  They have live music every night down there.  My friend Julia works the door and has saved me a small fortune in cover charges over the past couple of years.

I left a ridiculously expensive pair of sunglasses at the bar after I took that picture that night.  My mission to retrieve them was quite the emotional roller coaster.  When I called the next day I was shocked and thrilled to hear that they had them.  Then the L train fucked me and I couldn't make it down.  I called back and they promised to hold them until the following day.  I made it down, ordered a drink and waited for the bartender to go look for them.  After looking everywhere, she couldn't find them.  Shit.

So I ordered another drink while she texted the bartenders from the previous evening to ask where they had left them.  As I finished my drink she came over to say, "Sorry, they said they were by the cash register, but I don't see them.  I've looked EVERYWHERE, even the office.  Maybe the clean up people took them, I don't know..."  Shit.  Depressing.

So, I ordered another drink to help with the train ride home.  And the barback started chatting me up.  I told him the tale and he said, "Oh man.  That sucks.  Whattaya gonna do though, huh?"

No shit.  Whattaya gonna do?  As we continued to chat and I finished my drink, the bartender came over.  She said, "Hey, give me your phone number, just in case we find them somewhere."  And the barback said, "Where were they supposed to be?"  And she said, "By the register" and he went to look and found them in about two seconds.

dba.  Best. Bar. Ever.

  vist Shadow Shot Sunday here.

That might help

        

It certainly couldn't hurt.  Wine shipment from Longboard came in.  Wine is always good for improving my mood.  It's always fun when the doorman has a package for me, this one was the most timely I could think of.  It won't last long.  I'd like to say I'm going to save some for when the boyfriend comes to town next week, but I really can't make any promises.  I'm off until Tuesday.  Look out.  

It's actually the first time I've had wine in the house since I moved in.  I don't have a wine rack, which is on my list of things I need to get this weekend.  I didn't even have any wine glasses in the house, all my nice ones broke and I left my crappy ones in New Orleans, figuring I would get nicer ones when I got here, but I forgot.  So I went to the housewares department at Zabar's and bought eight of the nicest wine glasses I've ever had:

                   

I believe this is the phenomenon that Janson refers to as "going to buy some happy."  It worked, having them in the house and knowing that they're mine makes me pretty fucking happy.  I've never had wine glasses this nice before.  Although, I haven't even taken them out of the box yet, which means I haven't opened any of the wine yet, which is obviously a problem that needs to be fixed, along with my internet, but that's another story, maybe for tomorrow, maybe not.  Depends how much liquid happy I get through tonight.

One down, two to go

Well, that's over with. Thanksgiving really is an awful holiday. What exactly are we celebrating again? The fact that a bunch of white people came over in boats, raped and pillaged the natives and stole their land? Right. Somehow, I'm less than thankful.

Yesterday was a good day though, the Saints won, the curry was delicious, and the rum was aged. Best of all, we didn't have to see or talk to anyone else. Her neighbor tried to get us to come over to "celebrate" but we hid downstairs with the lights out.

So now there's only Christmas and New Year's to get through and I'm in the clear. This is absolutely the worst time of year. It's nauseating, all that forced cheer and insincerity. Endless marketing and consumerism. Complete stangers admonishing me to "have a happy holidaaaaay!!" Christmas decorations. Christmas music. I'm going to smack somebody.

Thanksgiving is easier to avoid than Christmas. People are much more insistent about Christmas for some reason. They're all in your face and very forceful. What really kills me is how crazy people get every year when they ask what I'm doing for the holiday and I say "Nothing." They go absolutely insane.

"WHAT? OH, NOOO!! That's AWWWFUUUL! You CAN'T be alone on CHRIIIISSTMAAASS!!"

Really? That's funny. I think I can, actually.

It never ceases to amaze me that these same people couldn't give a fuck less that I'm alone on the other 364 days out of the year, but all of a sudden on Christmas it's a federal fucking emergency. Seriously, people? Go fuck yourselves.

Balloons

It's a miserably cold and shitty day in New York today.  It's Thanksgiving and that fucking parade starts two blocks from where I live so instead of being able to sleep in peacefully this morning, I was woken up at 8am by news helicopters whirling around overhead.  Fan-fucking-tastic.

I should have worn earplugs to sleep, I was given fair warning last night.  I left work early and wanted a nice quiet night at the cafe on my corner with my computer.  Instead I came home to mayhem in the neighborhood.  There were people everywhere, streets were blocked off.  The Jews for Jesus were giving away free hot chocolate.  I questioned their motives, then I questioned if they had put drugs in the hot chocolate.  I was disappointed when they said, "No, that would be too expensive."

Anyway, I went to go investigate the commotion, turns out the balloons were around the corner from my building.  A few were tied down and uncovered, but most were squashed and strangled under nets, which was bizarre and slightly depressing.


    

Some of the balloons looked like they'd had a bit too much to drink, especially these guys...

 

            

Bizarre for sure.

There's a Saints game to watch.  Me and Jenelle are cooking Indian food and drinking rum.  I don't have to wake up early tomorrow, and there aren't any parades that I am aware of.  Things are looking up.

Very funny, Jonny

Yeah.  This guy is HILARIOUS.

Thanks, man.  That might be the first (genuine) smile I've had on my face since I saw Kirsten and David last week.

Better your wall than mine

That's that horrible painting that was in my mother's apartment when I got it.  Remember that fucking thing?  It's hanging on a wall at an Asian restaurant in Flushing now.  I went to take a look a while back, I don't even remember the name of the place or where it is, to be honest.  All I know is that it looks much better on their wall than it did on mine.  Good fucking riddance.

Fuck this Christmas music is killing me.  I'm at the deli on the corner because I still have no internet.  They're playing non-stop Christmas music and it's making me want to break things.

But anyway, I came across that picture and had to laugh.  I gave the painting to some dude on craigslist.  I gave most of her shit to him, lamps and couches and chairs and more awful paintings.  He got all kinds of crap out of my hair.  The house looks so much better now.

Except the fucking bathroom floor.  If something isn't done about it soon I don't know what's going to happen.  I can't look at it anymore, much the same way I felt about the painting.  But I have a plan.  It's all coming together.

Sorry for the unfocused randomness here.  Actually, no.  I'm not sorry.

The music, I can't take it anymore.  I have to go, I have to leave.  Can't do it.  Tomorrow will be better, I swear...

What else?

My journey to Brooklyn to retrieve my sunglasses last night was a complete failure. The L train wasn't running which of course no one mentioned until after everyone had been waiting for a half an hour. Fantastic. So I didn't get back to the house until almost 2 in the morning and I still had piles of laundry all over the bed that needed to be put away. Then I passed out and had to be up a few hours later. I'm exhausted. I have to be at work in an hour, and there's no telling when I'll be done. I'm excited to see what else might go wrong today. Perhaps the train will get stuck in the tunnel for three hours on the way to work. Maybe once I get to work the computers will crash (again!) and they won't be fixed until the end of my shift. Maybe when I get home from work the pipes will have burst in the apartment next door and my closets will be flooded. Maybe I'll come home to find that zombies have broken into my apartment and stolen my microwave.

Who knows. Anything is possible. But I'm ready. I've given up hoping things will get better, I've accepted my new reality of hellfire and damnation, mayhem and misery. Just going with the flow, sailing the seas of destruction, waiting for the winds to change. It's a hell of a ride, people...

Something good happened today

Actually, two good things happened today.  One was that the $250.00 sunglasses I thought I lost were found.  I called the bar I was at last night and lo and behold, miracle of miracles, the bartender had them.  Holy shit.  Now I have to go all the way to Brooklyn and back tonight to retrieve them.  Boo.

The other good thing was that I tried to go shopping for a pair of boots because it's starting to get cold here but they were all too expensive so I didn't get any, BUT when I got home Cesar said, "Oh, I have a package for you!"  And lo and behold, miracle of miracles, it was a beautiful pair of leather boots, a gift from my friends in Palm Beach.  Amazing when life literally hands you exactly what you need.

Otherwise, everything is still fucked.  I heard Christmas music today for the first time while I was shopping and it made me want to strangle someone.  Oh, here's a picture of the monstrosity that is now in the lobby of our building at work:

                            

I took that picture Saturday when I walked in and saw them putting it up.  I was horrified.  I wanted to post it yesterday, but I was writing from my phone and I couldn't get the picture thing to work.  I've been trying to post by text but that shit doesn't work.  I can't get them to come do my internet at home until December 2nd.  Fuck fuck fuck.

I told the bathroom guys to go fuck themselves and give me my money back for the damn floor.  Someone else can do that shit.

I'm tired.  I'm tired of looking at this computer screen.  I'm tired of talking to you right now.  I have piles and piles of laundry to do and it HAS to be done tonight and I have to go all the way out to Brooklyn and back.  I have to wake up early and work a long ass today tomorrow.  I have nothing else to say.  Goodnight.

Bah humbug

Are you fucking kidding me? I went to to work yesterday and walked into the building and this is what I saw. They're putting a Christmas tree up. A fucking CHRISTMAS tree. It's not even fucking Thanksgiving yet! What the fuck! Now I have to look at that shit every fucking day? Fan-fucking-tastic.

I hate Christmas. I'm not sure if you knew that already, but now you do. The entire six week period from Thanksgiving to New Year's makes me want to vomit. I haven't heard any Christmas music yet, I have a feeling I'm going to break someone's face when I do.

Speaking of breaking people's faces, when I got home from work last night and took the paper off the bathroom, I discovered that those assholes didn't do the floor. So now I'm going to have to get these cocksuckers back over here AGAIN to do the fucking floor like I fucking paid them to do, which means I'm going to be out of a bathroom AGAIN for two fucking days.

Fuck this shit. No, really. Fuck this shit.

Fuck you

Yeah, pretty much.

That's really all I have to say today. Fuck you, fuck my job, fuck my boyfriend, fuck my so-called friends, fuck my neighbors, and fuck the people down the street. You're all a bunch of piece of shit assholes and I really don't have the time or inclination to deal with this bullshit anymore. The whole world, yes, including you, can go fuck off and die and go straight to hell right now. I would love to physically hurt people right now, I really would. Stay the fuck out of my way. It looks like some people are too fucking stupid to figure that out.

My Internet still isn't working. I'm still typing this shit in the browser of my phone because I'm too pissed off to try to figure out that text thing. My job royally fucked me and I really don't even want to talk about it right now. I don't have a bathroom and I have my period and FUCK THAT SHIT because I got on a plane and left town so I wouldn't have to deal with that problem and those people FUCKED ME. I have friends in town I'm dying to spend time with and I have no time to spend.

There's a million other things going on that suck right now and I really don't want to talk about it. Yes, Jonny, I'm feeling very stabby today...

Sunshine and skittles

Of course my Internet isn't working at home. Of course I have no time to go take my computer anywhere because I will literally be at work all day and night. So I have to try to do this on my phone. I have no idea how well it's going to work. I think I'm supposed to be able to text pictures and whatever to some number and it will automatically post here, but I haven't really spent too much time experimenting with that shit yet and I sure as fuck don't feel like doing it now. I don't have time anyway.

FUUUCK. Reason number 4,793 to hate everything in the universe right now.

Oh, sorry. Did you think I had something nice to say? No. Not today, I'm afraid. Not yet. I still hate everyone. I'm waiting for these fucking people to get here to do my bathroom, I don't want to leave until they get here, even if it makes me late for work. I have had very little sleep, I have to work a very lucrative but very LONG day today, come home to no bathroom, and on the next day to still no bathroom and plenty more work. Certain people in my life really suck right now which doesn't help matters and the worst thing of all is that they're talking about needing to get the holiday decorations up at work and I'm like WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?! Can't you please just let me linger in my bubble of denial just a little while longer? Can you let me pretend the holidays aren't coming just for a few more days?

Fuck. I want to stab someone.

Yes, sunshine and skittles, people. That's what I'm here to bring you. Sunshine and fucking skittles, bright and early on a Friday morning.

The resentment returns

I don't really have anything nice to say today.  Those assholes were supposed to re-finish my bathroom while I was out of town and they didn't.  I was told that the guy got into a car accident on the way to my apartment and what the fuck kind of shit is that?  How fucking stupid do people take me for?  I HATE BEING lied to.  Seriously.  Ask my therapist, she'll tell you...

So now they're going to do it tomorrow, which is all fine and good except for that fact that I SPECIFICALLY scheduled it to be done while I was out of town because I didn't want to deal with the inconvenience of not having a bathroom for two fucking days.  Fucking cocksuckers.
            
Great.  Now I hate everyone and everything and I want the whole world to fuck off and die.  I hate the fact that I have to work every night while I have friends in town, I hate the fact that I have to wake up early and work a double tomorrow.  I hate that I have so many days off next week, I hate even more that I have no money to go anywhere with all that time off.

I hate that I agreed to post something on this stupid blog every day for a month, especially on days like today when I have nothing to offer but venom and misery.  I hate that I lost a MetroCard with thirty-something dollars on it at the fucking airport yesterday.

Hmm, what else?  I'm on a roll here...

San Francisco... oh, we don't have time for that today...

I hate that summer is gone and I can't wear  sundresses anymore.  I hate that so many of my friends are so far away.  I hate that my honey won't be here until December 5th, which, incidentally, is also the same day my current challenge ends and I don't have to come up with some inane bullshit to post on this ridiculous blog every day and I win.

You know, what else I hate?  I hate that I left it as only a challenge and didn't make it a bet.  I totally should have pushed for dinner at Morimoto, or a new pair of Manolo's or some shit like that.  I hate the fact that I don't think sometimes...
        

Exhausted

I had no idea 44 hours could go by so fast.  I could have sworn I just got to Sweetheart's house a minute ago.

I left in the middle of the night last night.  We never really went to sleep, just sort of dozed in and out of sleep on the couch until 4am, when I had to start scrambling around and throwing things in my suitcase.  Get it together, call a taxi, hurry to the airport, where I would be even less happy with my food choices than I was at JFK two days ago.  I still have not eaten today and I'm trying to see how long I can last.  I'm starting to get dizzy, so forgive me if this post goes nowhere.

The plane was freezing cold, but I was too tired to complain, so I wrapped my scarf around my knees and tried to sleep.  The people sitting in front of me must have had too much coffee, because they wouldn't shut the fuck up.  So I wrapped the scarf around my ears and passed out.

I've made it home and now... Now I have to be at work in three hours?  Fuuuck...

Once again, I need to get my ass off the internet.  I need to take a nap, I need to take a shower, I need to go to work.  I'm sure I need to put food into the equation at some point, but that's a lesser priority right now.  Sleep.  Sleep is the number one word on my mind right now...

Busted

I guess some people are paying more attention than I thought.  I got a text from Janson this morning:

"Surprise!  I just landed at JFK to surprise you!  Call me."

Hmm.

A few seconds later:

"LOL just kidding, I know u are here u crazy bitch!"

Ha ha.  Very funny.

So now he knows I'm here, God knows who else he's told.  Everyone's going to hate me.  Oh well.  So much for sneaking in and out of town under cover of night.

Janson's supposed to come to Mandina's for turtle soup with us tonight.  Seafood and turtle soup.  Lots of turtle soup.  I really don't care about the seafood.  I can take it or leave it.  The turtle soup I can't live without.  I'm wondering if I should say fuck it, damn the torpedoes, call every-fucking-body, tell them I'm here and they should come to Mandina's tonight.  Thirteen hours and counting, people, get it while you can.

Thirteen hours and counting!  Holy shit, what the fuck am I doing lazing around on the motherfucking internet!  Excuse me.  Sorry people.  Gotta go...

First flight out

Queens, New York

JFK International Airport 

6:30am

                  

I took Jet Blue's first flight out this morning.  The sky was pretty at 6:30 in the morning.  I left my apartment in the middle of the night, journeyed down to JFK, and was highly disappointed to discover that I was unable to get a cheeseburger before my flight.  The food places at the airport were only serving breakfast.  What the fuck kind of shit is that?  This is supposed to be New York, right?  I'm supposed to be able to get anything I want, anytime I want.  It was six in the morning and I wanted a cheeseburger and I couldn't get one.  Fucking BS, man.  Had to settle for a crappy ass slice of pizza because I'm sick of eggs in the morning.

I got up at four in the morning and got on a plane so I could spend 44 hours in New Orleans.  Nobody knows I'm here.  I'm not going to tell them, either.  By the time they read this and figure it out, I'll be gone.  I had no real reason to come down.  Just bored.  Had a couple of days off, missed my Sweetheart and decided to sneak away.  It's a routine by now.  Getting on a plane and coming down here is no different to me than getting on the subway and going to work.  I could get to the Jet Blue terminal in my sleep.  I almost did this morning, I didn't truly wake up until I started getting pissed off about the cheeseburger thing.

I hate to write and run, but I'm down to 36 hours now.  I didn't come down here to sit in a coffee shop.  I'm really not exactly sure what I DID come down here to do, (get laid) but sitting in a coffee shop definitely isn't it.  Until tomorrow...

Shadow Shot Sunday

New York, NY

Coney Island

              

I took that picture back in the beginning of September.  It was a sunny day, obviously.  Hot.  Lots of people wandering around on the boardwalk. 

It's not so hot anymore.  I haven't been down to Coney Island for a while.  I don't know how many people are wandering around the boardwalk at this time of year.  It's not really cold yet.  But it's definitely not hot.  

I like Coney Island.  Every time I go down there alone I wind up talking to the most random and interesting people on the fishing pier.  And we all know how much I love bizarre conversations with random and interesting people.  When Jenn Farmer came to town, we went down there with Amber and wandered around all day.  We ate hot dogs and drank beer.  We saw the freak show.  We rode the Wonder Wheel.  We talked to random and interesting people.  As days go, it was a complete success, as far as I'm concerned.

Visit Shadow Shot Sunday here.

Oh, you're damn right it counts...

There has been question from someone out there about whether or not my previous post counts in regards to my current challenge.  You're motherfucking right it counts!  First of all, the rules specifically state that I must post something, even something about nothing, every day for a month.  Posting only a picture does not count, OK, fine.  A story and explanation will accompany all photos until December 5th, when I win, I mean when the four weeks is up.  But nowhere did anyone say anything about the length or word count of posts.  So yes, hell yes, even though my previous post was about nothing and pretty short at that, it still counts.  This one does too.

Let's face it, folks, in this day and age, the day of twitter and facebook, tumblr and microwave meals,  brevity is where is at.  There's too much going on, too much information to absorb.  Who has time to sit still?  Who has time to listen to me drivel on for more than a paragraph or two?

Besides, much can be said with few words.  Don't we all remember the famous story where Hemingway (although that it was actually him is still undetermined) makes a bet that he could write a dramatic (or maybe not dramatic, maybe just short) short story using only six words, a short story that had a beginning, a middle, and an end?  And everyone takes the bet and what he comes up with is this:

For sale, baby shoes, never worn.

And of course he wins the bet and everyone thinks he's brilliant.  He really was brilliant, regardless of whether that story can accurately be attributed to him or not.

Are you still listening to me?  Paying attention?  No.  I've lost you.  I don't blame you.  I'm going on about nothing.  See, it goes back to what I was saying before.  Any more than a paragraph or two and people are going to tune out.  Brevity.  Good stuff.

Random thoughts

I need to paint these fucking cabinets in the kitchen.  They're on their way out anyway, the entire kitchen is eventually going to be overhauled into a properly functioning kitchen that a human being who cooks and eats actual food can live with.  It's going to be fucking expensive SPECTACULAR when it's done, people.

But in the meantime, until that becomes a reality, I may as well make the cabinets fun to look at instead of insane asylum white.  And since the cabinets aren't staying, (no way in hell are they staying) I can fuck around and paint them any way I damn well please.  Blue with yellow and pink polka dots?  Why not?  I can paint them every week if I feel like it.  One week they can be sponge-painted silver, next week, orange and forest-green plaid.  Maybe I'll get someone who's skilled with a spray can to come in and tag that shit up.  Or I can cover them with Minnie Mouse stickers!

No.  Not Minnie Mouse stickers.

But something.  Anything but insane asylum white.  Plum crazy purple, perhaps.  But the insane asylum white has got to do.  

Dining!

Ducale
79th and Columbus, New York, NY

Octopus and fennel salad

You've got to be careful about ordering octopus.  When it's good, it's good.  But when it's bad, it's just all wrong.  It's so easy to overcook it, then you've just got chunks of flavorless bicycle tire.  Not what you want to be chewing on.  If I'm the least bit skeptical of a restaurant I won't bother to even try it.

But I had ultimate faith in Ducale, a restaurant on my corner that also happens to serve an outstanding Bolognese sauce.  They did a great job with the octopus, light and fresh and perfectly cooked, tender and flavorful.  I approve!

              

Focus

I don't have it.  I can't keep it.  One minute I'm here, one minute I'm there.  I want this, I want that.  One day I'm obsessed with finding someone to reupholster my chair, the next day I'm off that and suddenly figuring out my Mardi Gras costume for next year seems of utmost importance.  I'm thinking ahead to where I might be living in the next year or two, I'm wondering when I'm going to have time to get to a hockey game. (let's go Rangers!) I'm hoping I'll have time to take a trip out of the country this year, or at least to Palm Beach.  I'm hoping I'll make enough money to tip the doormen nicely during the holidays.  I'm making myself dizzy.  I can't keep up.  Slow down!

I wonder what I'm trying to distract myself from.  Because it seems I have lots to think about, but nothing really important on my mind...

Kid unfriendly

I am dismayed to find myself living in a city that now likes to bill itself as "kid-friendly."

Kid-friendly?  Since when is NYC kid-friendly?  Oh yeah, since they turned Times Square into Disney-fucking-land.  I liked Times Square SO much better when it was all hookers and hustlers and drug addicts.  You know, my people...

There were a lot of things I hated about San Francisco, San Franciscans themselves were at the top of the list. (NO, not ALL of them. Stop yelling at me)  But one of the things I truly loved about the beautiful City by the Bay was how decidedly UN-kid-friendly it was.  There are more dogs than children in San Francisco, a statistic that always brought me untold joy.  It's not an urban legend, you can read the article right here.  Of course, the main reason there are more pooches than pre-pubescents is because San Francisco is so motherfucking expensive that anyone who makes less than half a mil' a year can't AFFORD to have children, but that is neither here nor there.  The important thing is, I didn't have to dodge baby strollers and whiny little brats screaming for soda at the grocery store every fucking day.

Here, they're everywhere.  There's a playground down the street, it might be attached to a school, I'm not really sure, but every day around 11am there's a cacophony of laughter and screaming and I swear one day I'm going to firebomb the place.  My apartment faces the back of the building, so there's no street noise, it's usually quiet and peaceful.  Except for that one hour or so a day when I think my head is going to explode.

I don't hate all children, I'm not a monster.  Nor do I blame them for their misbehavior, their screaming bloody murder on the subway, their howling in line at the bank, (the fucking bank!) their temper tantrums in the aisles of Duane Reade.   I blame THEIR PARENTS for allowing that shit to go on.

Parents!  Control your motherfucking children!  Have some respect for the people around you, especially people who had the goddamned sense to use birth control!  When your Satan's spawn starts screaming uncontrollably, TAKE IT THE FUCK OUTSIDE!!  I don't care that you don't want to lose your place in line and have somewhere to go and if you take your kid outside it's going to hold up your whole day, guess what, shit like that happens when you have a kid.  That's what you signed up for when you decided to breed.  I have a friend who once ate her entire meal in the bathroom of a Mexican restaurant because her infant son was screaming like a banshee and wouldn't shut the fuck up and she had the DECENCY to not want to subject innocent diners to that bullshit.  Take a cue, people.  When an entire roomful of people are staring at you and your offspring with daggers in their eyes because they can't hear themselves think, GO THE FUCK OUTSIDE.  Or to the bathroom.  Somewhere.  Anywhere.  Just fucking GO.

This has been a public service announcement from someone who is ready to smack the fuck out of you.  Oh yeah, one last thing.  Congrats to Hans and Moni!  They will be wonderful parents.  Close to perfect, of this I am sure...

Busy doing nothing

I'm glad it's raining today.  It makes me not feel so bad about not wanting to leave the house.  I've been feeling guilty about that lately, not wanting to leave the house.  I feel like I should be out exploring and doing and seeing and enjoying.  Instead I mostly feel like staying home, re-reading Kurt Vonnegut books and fucking around on the internet.  My mind is turning to mush and I'm in danger of losing my social skills.

That's entirely untrue, by the way.  My mind is overloaded with thoughts and information and I think a mile a minute and it drives me insane.  My social skills are better than ever, as I have constant interaction with clever, interesting people all the time.  At work, on the subway, in the bagel shop.  Everywhere.  I had a bunch of friends already here when I moved, and I've made a bunch of new ones too, I'm certainly not lacking in the socialization department.

But more often than not lately, I can't be bothered to leave the building, preferring to sequester myself away up here on the sixth floor and stare out the window.  Lately I've been needing to take a break from the world.  Days like today are great, because I feel validated.  Who the hell wants to go wandering around when it's shitty and wet and cold outside?

Actually, you know what?  I do.  I'm bored.  I feel like I'm wasting time.  I want to go wander around my neighborhood.  Or some other random neighborhood.  I want to go to the library and try to find a Kurt Vonnegut book I haven't read yet, or maybe someone entirely new I've never read before.  I want to take a break from taking a break from the world.

Leave it to me to finally get motivated in a fucking rainstorm.

Shadow Shot Sunday

New York, NY
At the deli down the street from work


Because I like to make up rules as I go along, I've decided that regarding my current challenge, (see previous post here) photos count as long as I write something to accompany the photo.

So I took this photo after work the other night.  To be honest, I can't even tell you the name of the place.  I just stop in from time to time because it's open late and it's on the way to the train and they have good paninis and snacks and I can sit in the window and stare outside and people watch and wonder how long it's going to take to get home.  My kitchen is still somewhat dysfunctional, so I don't cook at home too much right now, and who needs to anyway in NY, what with all this great food everywhere.  The guys who work here have heard the whole story about my kitchen.  They're always trying to get me to take something home for breakfast the next morning, but I can't find it in my heart to tell them that I'm cheating on them in the mornings with the deli on my corner, where the guys can tell how much I've had to drink the night before by what I choose for a morning beverage.  Ginger ale for a hangover.  Fresh squeezed orange juice when I'm healthy...

                                    

   http://heyharriet.blogspot.com/

Game on

This is how the conversation went, more or less:

Her: What's going on with your blog?  You haven't posted anything in like three weeks, and before that you were getting sporadic at best.  I check that damn thing every day, and I'm continually disappointed lately.  I rely on you to entertain me and you're letting me down.

Me: You rely on ME to entertain you?  Wow.  You need to get a life...

Her: It's true.  Seriously though, what the fuck?

Me: I don't know.  There's not a lot going on right now.  I don't really have anything to say.

Her:  Bullshit. I've known you way too long.  You've always got something to say.  I think there's too much going on right now.  I think you have too much to say.

Me: It's true.  Seriously though?  I don't really feel like it right now.

Her: Fuck you.

So basically the conversation continued on a downward spiral until I was challenged to post something, even something about nothing, every fucking day for a solid month, and apparently just posting a really cool photo doesn't count, which I think is total bullshit because sometimes you can tell an entire story with just a photo or two, but what-the-fuck-ever.  You got it.  Four weeks, starting tomorrow, which means I win on December 5th.  Game on, bitches...

A reasonable request...

I saw this in the bathroom at my favorite pizza place in my work neighborhood.  I'm working on finding a favorite pizza place in every neighborhood I frequent in the five boroughs.  Four, really, because who the hell ever goes to Staten Island?  (apologies to my friends and co-workers who live on Staten Island)  My very favorite pizza place of all is literally around the corner from where I live, lucky fucking me.

So anyway, Palermo Pizza is a few blocks away from where I work, and I'm guessing they were having problems with people urinating on their bathroom floor, because otherwise, you know, why put up the sign?  It's not something I want to think too hard about, because it's not going to stop me from going in there.  At all.

Palermo Pizza.  West Broadway and Murray.  Really good fucking pizza.  Use the bathroom at the Whole Foods around the corner.