Bright Idea

Friday was a long day… a very, very long day. As I stood in the station waiting for my train to come, I could feel the tiredness creeping down my body and snuggling up inside my legs. I wasn’t sure how much longer my legs would be able to support me as they felt like they were going to give out at any second, and my train seemed hell bent on making that happen. That’s when I had my bright idea. I should invent a pocket-sized foldable chair. That way, when you feel tried and desperately need to sit, you just whip out your handy pocket-sized chair (from your pocket of course) and unfold that baby. Badda bing, badda boom, instantly you will have a place to sit. Genius!

Then I thought, what if the chair had wheels… then you wouldn’t even have to walk around. You could just sit all day and your chair would take you anywhere you wanted to go! It wouldn’t even need to be pocket sized! Genius! Why hasn’t anyone else thought of this… oh… err… (laughs nervously) wheel chairs, right… they already do exist… um…

The Kids are Alright

It’s currently 65 degrees outside... and it’s December, and I’m so happy about it I could scream! This beautiful weather provided me with the motivation to get out and finish my Christmas shopping, and god knows I needed the motivation. And now I feel great! I got all of my shopping done, heck; I even bought some gift wrapping paper to seal the deal. Now my barren Christmas tree can once again be fruitful.



I just need to make sure that we’re clear on one thing here – just because I’m happy about finishing my shopping by no way means that I’m in the holiday spirit. Oh no, I’m still feeling very overwhelmingly bah humbug. This is evidenced by the fact that for a brief moment, just one brief moment yesterday, I actually wanted to throw little children across the room (hangs head in shame).

Well, what do you expect? I was in Macy's and it was so crowded I started to feel claustrophobic. There were these large families everywhere, each with about twenty children a piece. And you know kids, they’re all walking and not looking where they’re going, and they’re slow as all heck. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the adults would just stop suddenly to take a picture of the decor, or to round up the troops, or just to try to decide where they wanted to go next. I mean really people; there are other people in the store. Ugh, anyway, the children all made it out of there safe and sound, I promise! And I went home with a headache, sore feet, and minus one gift… don’t you just love the holidays?

Bad Mojo

It seems that I’ve lost my creative mojo, and I’m not quite sure how to get it back (sigh). For my few faithful followers, you may have noticed that I haven’t written a post in a while. At first, I was fighting off a pretty bad cold, which I’ll tell you more about in a sec. But I ended up spending a few days curled up in my bed feeling absolutely miserable. After being doctored by my mom (what, I’m not ashamed to admit it), I was feeling good as new again. So, I sat at my desk like an eager little beaver to tell you all about my tumultuous adventure (being sick), but nothing came out. I stared at my screen, willing my fingers to do their thing, but nothing, nada, zip, zilch… hence the absentee blogger thing.

Now, I don’t know if you can will your mojo back, but here is best attempt:

I got sick last week, and needless to say, I wasn’t happy about it. I don’t really consider myself a germaphobe, but I do realize that this is germ season in New York City, so I take certain precautions to avoid being contaminated. I keep my gloves on at all times when outdoors to avoid touching germy surfaces. I keep myself armed with hand sanitizer for those few moments when I do need to remove my trusty gloves. And, I’m a big believer in Vitamin C, so I make sure to consume a lot of it, and I mean a lot; a friend once told me that I would overdose on C. That isn’t possible right…

So, as I was saying, I have a nice system for keeping my system germ free. The problem is that people seem to enjoy spreading their germs, and it seems that they will go to great extremes to make sure they do. No, I’m not over-exaggerating. You’ve seen it or… you’ve done it (looks suspiciously at screen)! Ok, I won’t go pointing an accusatory finger just yet. But you do know what I’m talking about. I’m talking about people who, just because they’re outdoors, do not feel the need to cover their mouths when they cough or sneeze. It’s as if they think their germs will just disintegrate when they release them into the air. No! You know what happens? I’ll tell you what happens! When a person sneezes into the open air, their germs get blown right smack in the face of the person unfortunate enough to be walking behind them. That unfortunate person was me last week, and who knows, you could be next.

I say we band together friends, to put an end to this disgusting habit. And if you have been a perpetrator of such behavior in the past, I implore you to simply start keeping a packet a tissue with you at all times. And when you feel that tickle in your nose or itch in your throat, just whip out that handy tissue and put it to good use. What do you say people? Are you with me?

Buyer Beware

I was out walking around the other day and found myself smack dab in the center of New York City’s Buyer Trap. See, the thing about New York City, is that it doesn’t have any malls. Well, there are some in Long Island, but no one goes to Long Island unless he/she lives there (no offense Long Islanders, but you know it’s true). So, where are all the stores? That’s a good question my friends. The stores are everywhere!

We, New Yorkers, we like to walk a lot. Walking is good for the soul (so I hear). And while we’re out walking, what do we see – stores! Stores, stores, and more stores! We spy something new and shiny in the window and say, “Oh, that’s nice. I like that. Maybe I should take a little look; just to see how it looks up close; I might not even like it then.” Oh yeah, go ahead and lie to yourself. And once we see it up close, it’s love at first sight, and we absolutely must have it (shakes head). We say to ourselves, “Oh, the price is not that bad.” This is the New York City Buyer’s Trap - you didn’t even intend to buy anything when you so naively headed out onto the big, mean city streets. But once you pass all those stores flashing those “Sale” signs, you are automatically transformed into a buyer.



It’s okay, you’re not alone. I know you head home with your new purchase; one half of you wanting to kick yourself for succumbing, the other half wanting to give yourself a high five. I too know this feeling.

Unfortunately friends, there isn’t much you can do to avoid being bamboozled by this city. Even if you know the truth, you’re still liable to fall victim to slashed prices. All you can do is tell yourself that in this recession, you have done your job to help stimulate the economy. Now go ahead - pat yourself on the back for a job well done.

Bah Humbug

So the holidays are coming. Is anyone else feeling a little bah humbug? Generally, I like Thanksgiving – good food, and if you get drunk enough, you even enjoy being around the family (you know, if you do that sought of thing).

It’s Christmas that’s got my stockings in a bunch. Right after Thanksgiving, everyone starts talking about Christmas. You have to start thinking about what you want, and try to figure out what other people want. Ugh! And then you have to deal with the lines… again, I say… Ugh!

I just want to kick back and rub that full, round tummy of mine, filled with yummy stuffing and wine, and more wine, and just enjoy the moment. Really people - is that too much to ask for?

I never saw that movie where the Grinch steals Christmas, but I feel like finding the little green guy, giving him a high five for the effort, and helping him devise a new, ingenious plan to steal Christmas this year. Maw ha, ha, ha, ha! Alright… maybe I won’t, but don’t hold me to that.

And if your Christmas lights start disappearing off your front porch… well then… um… he did it!

Who Needs The Sun

Howdy! Did you miss me? Aw shucks, don’t you know how to make a girl feel special?

Okay, so here’s the thing – my goal is to write at least three posts a week. Things, however, come up; life gets crazy; and therefore, three posts a week may not always be possible. If I write at least two posts, then it’s been a “pat on the back” week. If I actually make it to three posts, well then I get a gold star. Just between you and me… I’m aiming for a “gold star” week (haven’t gotten one of those in a while). Any who, on to my post:

Last week, my mom came back from a Caribbean cruise. This week, my sister is vacationing in Hawaii. And where am I? I’m stuck in New York City with a windshield factor that makes it feel like it’s below twenty degrees! I ask you, “How is this fair?”



“Well Kas, why don’t you just go on a vacation?” Simple – because I’m poor. Okay, no. Well, yes, but no. The truth is that I’m saving. I don’t exactly know what I’m saving for, but for some reason, I just feel compelled to do it. Saying that I’m saving makes me feel responsible and very much like an adult.

No one in particular: Man, I just blew my whole pay check!
Me: Oh, really? Well, I’m saving (gloats inwardly).
No one in particular: I should start doing that.
Me: Yeah, you should (gloats outwardly).

By the way, another reason I won’t go on a vacation is that everything is just too expensive now. You would think that with less people shopping and more people losing their jobs, things all around would be getting cheaper. You can’t expect consumers to consume things they can’t afford. What kind of ass backwards world is this?



Wait… what was I talking about? Oh, yes… I’m freezing my toes off, while my sister is soaking up the sun. I’m getting blown down the street by gusting winds, while my sister is enjoying a nice, tropical breeze. Yeah, I’m bitter – so what?

Love Reject

Two, maybe three years ago, a friend told me that I should check out eHarmony. I looked at her with my infamous furrowed brow expression, and blinked fifteen times to really send the "um... what?" message home. "No, not for that," she smiled at me shaking her head. “They have a great personality test. You should take it; it's free and it's a lot of fun." Well, who am I to pass up the opportunity to have a little fun (especially when it's free)?

So, on one not so special day, completely out of boredom, I went to eharmony.com to take their personality test. Let me say, I don't know what my friend was thinking - there was nothing fun about this test. It took me almost an hour to answer all of the questions, some of which, by the way, were asked multiple times (just slightly re-worded). When I was finally finished, I sat back and waited for the payoff. "Come on eHarmony; give me some insight to my inner workings." I wanted to be dazzled by their accuracy. "Man, they’re good. They hit the nail on the head! That is sooooo me!"



What came up instead, was a bunch of vague statements: You enjoy being around loved ones. "No expletive Sherlock! I told you that!" You prefer honesty. "Um... what the...?" You are kind and enjoy taking care of others. “Well… not really. I don't want to have to take care of anyone. Now you're just twisting my words damn it!"

Okay, so as you can imagine, I was a little annoyed at this point. I wasted an hour on this thing! Geez, I got more insight from the fake psychic lady who stopped me on the street and told me that I'm a kind person, but not completely happy. And she didn’t even have access to a ridiculously long survey where I answered personal questions about my life! Any who, so after a series of these vague statements, a new message came up:

Yadda, yadda, yadda, “unfortunately, we are not able to make our profiles work for you. Our matching model could not accurately predict with whom you would be best matched. This occurs for about 20% of potential users, so 1 in 5 people simply will not benefit from our service. We hope that you understand, and we regret our inability to provide service for you at this time.”

The strangest feeling came over me then - my face got extremely hot, my hands started shaking, and then I exploded at my computer, "What the hell do you mean you can't match me? Why not?" I sat back and tried to calm myself. "Maybe I should have put down that I want more kids. Who doesn't love kids? I should love them MORE. Maybe my goals were in the wrong order. Maybe I should go back and change some of my answers. Maybe I should go back and change all of my answers - then they'll be able find me a match..."

I had forgotten all about this incident until chemistry.com started airing those commercials where people said that they were rejected by eHarmony. At first, I felt a kind of camaraderie with the actors. I was not alone; other people had been rejected. Thank god! That was at first. After a little while, every time one of those “rejected commercials” would come on, my top lip would twitch and I would start mumbling under my breath, "I was rejected by eHarmony... the bastards! And I wasn't even looking for love or whatever! I just wanted to take their stupid personality test."



Unbelievable isn’t it? I mean... really… who wouldn't want to date me ;)

Right To Be

It’s been a while hasn’t it? Sorry guys, I’ve been feeling a little under the weather. Unfortunately, blogging sometimes has to take a back seat to life (shrugs). Oh well, I’m feeling a little better now, so onward with the blogging!

My sister said the most curious thing to me the other day. “You have a lot of anger,” she said. I furrowed my brow as I pondered this statement. Sure, I’ve been complaining a little lately, but so what? Honestly, living in this city; I ask you, how can I not be angry? Case in point – this morning I was almost hit by a taxi… again. Now friends, let me just say that I am a very careful crosser. I look both ways before stepping into the crosswalk, heck; I even wait to make sure that the big red hand is no longer warning me to stay put. Yes, I am a very cautious crosser.



Now, I know that taxis seem like a real convenience in the movies when all the big actors do that cool whistle thing and five of them (taxis I mean) automatically line up to be of service. Alright, so there might be a twinge of jealously there. I can’t whistle to save my life. When I try, I look like a toddler spitting up on myself – okay, I’m not actually that bad (clears throat).

Sorry, back to the story; we were talking about taxis. Here’s the thing about taxis - their drivers are insane! Sure, they have the right-of-way when making a right turn, but so do I gosh darn it. They don’t stop to think for a second that there might actually be pedestrians trying to do their pedestrian thing by crossing the damn street! Oh no, they make a sharp right turn and nearly plow right into you (and by you, I mean me). Now, I’ve done everything I can think of to show my displeasure at almost being hit. I’ve let out a sting of expletives so long and so fast that even I got lost in what I was saying. I’ve flipped the bird (always a winner). I’ve given one heck of an evil stare. I’ve even stood there with an incredulous look on my face, just to have the a-hole honk his horn at me, which of course only made other pedestrians look at me like the crazy girl standing in the middle of the street holding up traffic. So, I ask again: How the crap can I not be angry? Can I get an amen?

Yes We Can

He said, “Yes we can,” and we did! Whether or not you voted for Barack Obama, you are a part of history. As we watched this country slowly sink into its current decrepit state, we demanded change, and change has come! This is not a political blog, so I will end this post here, but when something this monumental happens, it’s hard not to speak out about it.

Calling All Americans

It’s Election Day! As such, I feel that it’s my duty as an American (although some politicians say that I’m un-American simply because of the state I live in) to remind all of you to get out and vote today. And by “all of you” I mean the few dedicated people who faithfully read my blog everyday. No need for shout outs – you know who you are (winks).

Now, I don’t care who you vote for, just as long as you go out and do it. I would never try to sway people to vote for the candidate of my choice. What kind of person would that make me? Oh, hey, did I tell you that my mama is on a cruise right now – I’m going to text her the election results tomorrow. Oh, and that reminds me… I always wanted to own (fidgets) a lama. Just thought you might want to know that (whistles innocently). By the way, at some point, I’ll have to remember to tell you guys about my crazy dreams. Want a sneak peak… okay then: I often dream that I have a pet piranha. What, too much? Lol. I’m just joking.



I promise that when I do actually try send out subliminal messages, they will be much more subtle than that ;)

Now go on – go vote!

Get A Life

So, I was talking to my sister this weekend and we’ve both come to the conclusion that we need to get out more. Lately, my days seem to follow the same boring pattern: wake up, go to work, go home, go on the internet, watch TV, go to bed. A shame isn’t it? Sure, we’re all cutting back on our expenses since the economy went to hell, but I must admit that I found myself following this destructive pattern long before my wallet started to feel the pinch.

I realize that I live in the city that never sleeps, but what exactly are these non-sleeping people doing? I need some help here people! How does one go about getting a life? Yeah, I know I could do the club scene thing, but really, it’s just not for me. About two years ago, I decided to have my birthday celebration at a nightclub [which was my first attempt to get a life]. So, I called a place.

Lady at club: You’re birthday; how exciting! Okay, so how many people are you expecting?
Me: Uh… I dunno.
Lady at club: Okay then, well, when you have an idea, call me back and I’ll let you know how many bottles you need to buy.
Me: Bottles?
Lady at club: Yes, you need to buy bottles in order to reserve tables.
Me: Bottles?
Lady at club: Yes, bottles.
Me: Bottles of what?
Lady at club: [loud sigh] Bottles of… AL-CO-HOL [annunciating each syllable carefully]!
Me: Bottles of alcohol! What the…?
Lady at club: Yes [sighs again] bottles of alcohol.

When I inquired about the cost of these [expletive] bottles, I nearly dropped the phone. So, I said to hell with that! Hence, the no club scene thing for me. One, it’s too much money. And while, yes, I could always just use my feminine wiles [blinks suggestively] to get guys to buy me drinks, honestly, that’s just too much work. Two, there are too many damn people; I hate feeling other people’s sweaty arms brushing against mine [ick]. Third, I don’t believe in paying a cover charge. Sure, you could call me cheap or a penny pincher, but I prefer the term fiscally frugal [learned that one from my sis – much love sis]. Anyway, so now that we’ve crossed clubbing off the list of things to do to get a life… um… what’s left? [Looks around panicked]

Bus People

I realize that my last post may have led you to believe that I’m one of those rude New Yorkers (i.e. train people) who shamelessly stare at strangers on public transportation.

Let me assure you that this is not the case. In fact, I pride myself on being a bus person. You might be asking yourself, “What is a bus person?” Why, I’d be more than happy to answer that question.

As I see it, there are two types of people in this world: bus people and train people. Bus people are typically people who ride the bus. Wait, wait, wait, there’s more, I promise.

If you get on a bus, a bus person will look at you, check out how you’re wearing your hair, glance at your shoes, peek at your outfit, and then they politely loose interest and return to staring out the window.

A train person [gags a little]; these wretched people are the type of people who will stare at you from the second you enter the train until the moment you depart. These people stare at you until you start to feel uncomfortable. Oh, and don’t think that just because you’ve caught them staring that they’ll stop. Oh no, train people have no shame – they’ll stare at you until you timidly look away (the bastards)!



As you can tell, I feel very strongly about this. I had a terrifying experience once that still shakes me to the core whenever I think about it. But since we’re so close, I’ll share. I was on the train one evening. I was minding my own business (as any good bus person would do) when the conductor announced that the station we were in was the last stop. He informed us that there was a shuttle bus waiting upstairs to take us the rest of the way. Instantly, I panicked. I was going to be on a bus with train people!!!!! As you might have guessed, there is a lot less room on a bus, which meant that I would be standing, in a very tight space, next to…. dun, dun, dun…. TRAIN PEOPLE!!!!!!

I know you’re probably thinking that I’m being a little dramatic here, but let me tell you friends, I’m not. By the time I got on the shuttle bus, all the seats were taken. So, I ended up standing in front of a guy who kept staring up at me. I could feel his bulging eyes burning a hole right through me. He stared up at me for over 15 minutes! I kept wishing that he would get a neck cramp, but sadly, he didn’t. My palms started sweating and my face got really hot. I felt helpless. When I finally reached my stop, I ran off that bus so fast that I nearly knocked someone down.

So friends, the next time you have to take a train, be sure to check the advisories on the MTA website, and if you see the word “shuttle” anywhere on the page, take my advice, and just stay home. Please don’t let this happen to you.

Take Me Higher

What the…?” I mumbled to myself. My eyes were transfixed on the man riding between the subway cars. Not only is riding between subway cars illegal, it is also really, really stupid. Many people (I don’t know exactly how many, but many people…) have slipped and been pulled under the train. So, I watched in wide-eyed amazement as this moron stood between the cars rummaging through his backpack, adjusting his clothes, and… rolling a joint. “What the…?” I asked again. I looked around the train to see if anyone else was witnessing this craziness (it’s always nice to share a look with a stranger when you’ve both seen something mind-boggling – sometimes both of you even break into that slow headshake, which of course, only makes the two of you feel closer). I digress; I looked around expecting to see another “what the” expression plastered on someone else’s face, but found none.

Disappointed, I turned back to the man to see if he had completed his little… um… project. I really don’t know what I expected, but my jaw fell to the floor when I saw a puff of smoke emerge from between his lips. “This crazy man is smoking a joint,” I whispered, and then quickly looked around to see if anyone noticed that I was talking to myself. I was in the clear. Whew!

My eyes were locked in position as I nervously felt the train slow to a stop. Once we were in the station, surely he’d put out his joint and come back inside the train. No, the crazy man stayed between the cars casually smoking his joint as people exited and boarded the train. Was no one else really seeing this!!???

After five minutes of non-blinking staring, the man tossed his joint onto the tracks, entered the next car, and trotted off the train. I rubbed my itchy eyes (as the apparently I’m allergic to smell of marijuana - damn).

The whole thing kind of reminded me of that segment in Twilight Zone: The Movie when the guy sees the monster on the wing of the plane. He tries to let everybody know, but no one else can see it besides him, and in the end, the plane crashes. Ok, well, it’s not exactly the same situation, but I do wish that other people had seen that guy. At least then I wouldn’t feel like the girl who cried pothead.

Visitors

So, I found myself in Times Square on Friday having dinner with a friend who - get this - shamelessly asked me to plug him on my blog [shakes head]! And for that reason, he will forever be known on this blog as Anonymous (queue evil laugh).

Now, there are two places in this city that I am rarely brave enough to visit: 1. Times Square 2. Herald Square (where the miracle happened, and for those who never saw the movie, I’m talking about 34th Street where Macys has its Thanksgiving Day Parade).

I stay away from these areas because of, well, to be completely honest, I stay away because of the tourists. Now, I understand that tourists are good for the city, but gosh darnit can they be annoying. So, today, friends, I would like to introduce a series I have so cleverly titled “The Many Things Tourists Should Never Do”:



1. Do not stand in the middle of the sidewalk to take pictures or stare slack-jawed at a subway map
2. When asking for directions to The World Trade Center, do not call it “Ground Zero”
3. Do not stare up at tall buildings when walking down the street and then look at me like I’m the rude one when you walk into me
4. Do not walk in a horizontal line with your ten family members down any street
5. Do not stand in front of the turnstile while deciding whether or not this is indeed the train you need to take
6. Do not stand in front of the escalator in Macys while trying to decide where you want to go (or anywhere else for that matter)
7. Do not approach the turnstile until you have your metro card in hand

Now, I promise that if you follow these seven simple, foolproof rules, you won’t have to worry about all those nasty, mean New Yorkas [shivers]. In fact, you can expect to receive a friendly smile, a point in the right direction, and an eager wave telling you, “Ya’ll come back now ya hear!”

Meeting New People

As I rode home on the train last night, counting how many times the woman next to me said “like” (56 times in under 10 minutes), slightly inebriated from having one too many glasses of wine at dinner, I remembered an encounter I had on the train a few months ago.

So the story goes: One night, I was on the train headed back home to you know where. This guy got on at the next station and sat one seat away from me, which I truly appreciated. I have to say, I hate it when people unnecessarily invade my personal space. For instance, when I’m in a public restroom and a woman enters the stall right next to mine even though every other stall is empty!

Sorry. I digress, so this guy sat and slowly began to sink. He sank so far down, in fact, that half of his back was occupying the space that was meant for his... err.. posterior (still keeping it PG people).

After about a minute, he turned to me and asked if it was a long ride to Coney Island. Being the helpful New Yorker that I am, I informed him that it was indeed a very long ride. He sighed and shook his head, “Do I look high or drunk to you?”

I wanted to give him an accurate answer, so I turned my entire upper body towards him and stared with wide-eyed conviction. After my thorough examination, I wrinkled my forehead (to look thoughtful) and said, “Honestly… yes.” I gave myself a mental pat on the back for doing my good deed for the day.

“That’s because I am,” he mused and broke into a slow, kind of creepy laugh. Ah, ha……ha……ha…..ha…..hum. What followed was a second by second replay the events that had led him to this high/drunken state. I listened attentively adding in wows and reallys. Once his story was finished, I nodded to signify that yes, that could happen to anyone, and then happily retuned to my daydreaming.

“Have you ever read that book?” My inebriated friend asked pointing to one of the advertisements in the train.

“Can’t say that I have,” I answered honestly. For another five minutes, my newly acquired friend detailed this author’s previous works of fiction in astounding detail (if any of it was true). Again, I queued up the fervent nodding, and added my reallys and interestings (as I think it's very important to do your fair share in a conversation).

“I’m sorry but this is my stop,” I said regrettably.

“Oh okay. You have a good night... man… I hope I don’t fall asleep.” He was practically on the floor at this point. I smiled a genuine smile and exited the train whishing I had taken the time to write down that author's name.

Bad Boroughs

Reflecting on my last post, which incidentally also happens to be my first post, I realized that I might have given you the wrong impression of my beloved city. How horrible can this New York be when you have to dodge little old ladies trying to clobber you with their purses? I promise it really isn’t that bad.

Sure New York has crime, which city doesn’t? Personally, I tend to think of my city as that guy who sat at the back of the class in high school. You know, the guy that looked mean, wore a leather jacket, never talked to anyone, and rode a really cool motorcycle. Here everyone was thinking he was headed for a life of crime, when in reality, the guy wrote poetry and volunteered at animal shelters. That’s kind of what New York is like.

Let me give you an example. In New York we have boroughs (they’re how some old guys back in the day decided to split up the city). Anyway, I live in Brooklyn. Now, you may have heard some things about Brooklyn, but I assure you that none of it is true. In Brooklyn, I live in an area called Bedford Stuyvesant. I’m cautious about whom I share this information with, but since you guys are my friends, I feel safe sharing.

Why would divulging where I live cause a lump to appear in my throat? Well, Bedford Stuyvesant is also known as “Do or Die Bed Stuy”. I don’t even know what that means. But a couple of months ago, for my birthday, my sister and I went to a comedy club. When the struggling comedian on stage asked me where I was from, I could swear I saw a twinkle appear in his eye. I had provided him with the material he needed to save his disastrous show. “You’re from Bed Stuy and you haven’t been shot yet?” Hardy, har, har! What a expletive ending in “ing” jerk (keeping it PG for the kids). I’ve lived in Bedford Stuyvesant for most of my life, and I can form complete sentences, walk in a straight line, pat my head and rub my belly at the same time, and oh yeah –I’VE NEVER BEEN SHOT!

So, you see my point. New York and its various boroughs may have bad reputations, but in the end, they’re really not so bad. That Bronx, however, is another story.

Hello New York

New York City - known for its bright lights, sky scrapers, and crappy public transportation, just like, well... every other big city out there. Go ahead, take a nice big breath! Breathe in all that fresh air mixed with the scent of roasted peanuts, bus exhaust, chicken grilling on Gyro carts, and let’s not forget the sewage. Ah, smells like… home.

But seriously, I love this city. I find it hard to envision myself living anywhere else. I’m a born and raised New Yorker, or as a bad actor would say, “I’m ah New Yorka,” [hawk – spit].

Since I’m being honest here, I have to admit that there are times I just want to pack my bags and hitchhike my way to the Amish Nation (not that there is such a thing) where I can ride around in buggies, churn milk, and run around in the grass all day long. Sigh…. Wouldn’t that be nice? I would never have to worry about a bad hair day again. Static making my hair look like I stuck my finger in an electrical socket? No problem – tie a scarf around my head. What’s that you say – I’ve gained a few pounds? No problem – this very roomy dress I’m wearing will camouflage those rolls nicely.

Maybe someday, but today, I live in New York City where elderly women ask me if I’m stupid because I dared to walk in front of them on the subway platform. Really lady, it’s barley 8:15 in the morning and you want to pick a fight with me? Sure, I’ve muttered a “dumb-ass” under my breath a few times when people annoyed me on the train, but at least I had the decency to keep the comment to myself. Who goes around picking fights that early in the morning? And here’s the thing about getting into an argument with the elderly – even if they are clearly in the wrong, you still come out looking like the jerk simply because they’re old. So for now, my brilliant plan is to just duck behind a much larger person whenever I see grandmas casting evil stares in my direction.