I had an appointment down in the village today after work. I got out of the subway at 8th Street and was crossing Broadway when I noticed the guy walking in front of me. He was wearing a white tee shirt, jeans, and had a backpack on (over both shoulders).
Now I know the cool way for guys to wear their pants these days is to wear them really, really low. But this guy took the cake. You could see both ass cheeks. His jeans were down below his butt. I think he was homeless, then again, everything he had on was rather new looking. I looked up again but he had become part of the crowd. His ass looked very smooth.
Side note: I'm watching the Idol finale. I didn't even bother to turn it on till 10 till 10. All I can say is this Sergant Pepper ode sucks. Well, the past winners sucked. Once they got to those voted off from this season it got a little better.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Monday, May 21, 2007
Most of 'em shock the hell outta me
Let me just start out by saying that I do not have a problem with women breast feeding their babies. Nope, not one bit. And I don't have a problem with them doing it in public. I guess I'm just shocked at what people do and where and how they choose to do it.
I left work tonight around 6:00pm. As I was walking to the subway I saw a woman standing in front of Madison Square Guarden. Lots of people going down to the Long Island Railroad and NJ Transit. As I get closer I see that the woman is breast feeding her baby right there on the street (she's standing--got to give her props for that) and she's singing the ABC song to her baby. She has her t-shirt pulled up exposing all of her breast (except for the nipple which is in the baby's mouth).
My Aunt Jane used to breast feed her son in public back in the 70s if she happened to be out at feeding time. What I remember is that she always threw a diaper over her shoulder and down over the baby. You couldn't see what was happening though you knew what she was doing. And she would try and sit out of the way. She would often have men and women come up to her and yell that this was a terrible thing she was doing and how could she do this in public. I never understood what was so upsetting to them since you couldn't see anything.
So when I saw this woman today it made me think of my Aunt Jane and how much of a lady she was in everything she did. She did the best for her child yet always tried to be respectful of others. I had to resist the urge to stop and ask that women to throw a diaper over her shoulder but I figured I would be like all those people who said things to Aunt Jane.
This all just pointed out to me that I'm getting older and often wish for the way things were.
I left work tonight around 6:00pm. As I was walking to the subway I saw a woman standing in front of Madison Square Guarden. Lots of people going down to the Long Island Railroad and NJ Transit. As I get closer I see that the woman is breast feeding her baby right there on the street (she's standing--got to give her props for that) and she's singing the ABC song to her baby. She has her t-shirt pulled up exposing all of her breast (except for the nipple which is in the baby's mouth).
My Aunt Jane used to breast feed her son in public back in the 70s if she happened to be out at feeding time. What I remember is that she always threw a diaper over her shoulder and down over the baby. You couldn't see what was happening though you knew what she was doing. And she would try and sit out of the way. She would often have men and women come up to her and yell that this was a terrible thing she was doing and how could she do this in public. I never understood what was so upsetting to them since you couldn't see anything.
So when I saw this woman today it made me think of my Aunt Jane and how much of a lady she was in everything she did. She did the best for her child yet always tried to be respectful of others. I had to resist the urge to stop and ask that women to throw a diaper over her shoulder but I figured I would be like all those people who said things to Aunt Jane.
This all just pointed out to me that I'm getting older and often wish for the way things were.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
That's the fork I knew
My husband and I have different schedules so I'm on my own five nights a week. I had a dentist appointment during my lunch time today, to have a chipped crown fixed, so didn't eat lunch due to a very numb mouth. By quitin' time I was starved. I decided to go to one of our favorite restaurants Red Eye Grill.
I get my favorite table, say hi to the servers that know us by name (we are there at least once a week), and settle in a quiet corner in the bar area with my New York Magazine crossword puzzle. I order my usual: french onion soup and a cobb salad. Let me just say now that the soup is so fab I actually dream about it. Amazing.
Not too long after I order a group of business men come in and take over the opposite corner (I'm at a 2-top next to the bar). There is a corner table between us in the "L" shaped space. My soup comes and everything fades away as I partake of the nectar. Next thing I know I'm being pulled from my dream-like state by 3 people moving into the corner space next to me. I try to ignore them and go back to my soup, ahhhhh.
The runner brings my salad and prepares it (they toss it table side). So I find myself hearing the woman less than 12" from me blabbing on and on about being vice president of this and vice president of that. And how on this trip she did this for work and on and on. Then she starts talking about a trip to Mexico and I mentally turn all my attention to what she is saying.
The reason for this being that my husband is Mexican. I spend a LOT of time in Mexico. I know Mexico. The man with her says how he doesn't want to travel there as he has a sensitive stomach. She starts saying how on every trip she has had a little bit of Montezuma's revenge. They are all blaming it on the water. Oh God how I want to butt into the conversation. Yes, you can get sick if you drink tap water (hell, my in-laws won't drink the tap water), but 9 times out of 10 you have the runs because you are drinking a lot of alcohol. Most people get sick on vacation because they are eating and drinking much differently than at home. Shit, I get the runs a tad when I go back to visit my mom in the mid-west--damn well water.
But nooooo, it's Mexico's fault you are sick. Then she starts blabbing about the time she got sick while in Merida. The man asks where this is and she says it is a town next to the ruins of Chichen Itza. Sigh. Lady, it is the capitol of the state of Yucatan and it is about a 2 hour drive west of Chichen Itza. And it has too many people in it to be even thought of as a town.
I know I'm getting petty; to most people who don't spend a lot of time there this is how it seems to them. But I just hate having to eat my meal listening to a know-it-all. She then proceeded to tell the ingredients in her Cosmopolitan. Just let me say this, she was wrong. Hehe.
Oh, and one last thing. During my salad more and more people join this group and I'm starting to feel boxed in, but don't want to rush my lovely dinner. There is now a woman sitting on the one long bench that we all share just a foot away from me. She turns her head to the right (towards me) and slightly down while she puts her hand in front of her face so she doesn't cough on the rest of her group. But the way she has her hand forces all the cough ON TO ME!!!! EEEEEWWWW. I quickly asked for the check and went home.
I get my favorite table, say hi to the servers that know us by name (we are there at least once a week), and settle in a quiet corner in the bar area with my New York Magazine crossword puzzle. I order my usual: french onion soup and a cobb salad. Let me just say now that the soup is so fab I actually dream about it. Amazing.
Not too long after I order a group of business men come in and take over the opposite corner (I'm at a 2-top next to the bar). There is a corner table between us in the "L" shaped space. My soup comes and everything fades away as I partake of the nectar. Next thing I know I'm being pulled from my dream-like state by 3 people moving into the corner space next to me. I try to ignore them and go back to my soup, ahhhhh.
The runner brings my salad and prepares it (they toss it table side). So I find myself hearing the woman less than 12" from me blabbing on and on about being vice president of this and vice president of that. And how on this trip she did this for work and on and on. Then she starts talking about a trip to Mexico and I mentally turn all my attention to what she is saying.
The reason for this being that my husband is Mexican. I spend a LOT of time in Mexico. I know Mexico. The man with her says how he doesn't want to travel there as he has a sensitive stomach. She starts saying how on every trip she has had a little bit of Montezuma's revenge. They are all blaming it on the water. Oh God how I want to butt into the conversation. Yes, you can get sick if you drink tap water (hell, my in-laws won't drink the tap water), but 9 times out of 10 you have the runs because you are drinking a lot of alcohol. Most people get sick on vacation because they are eating and drinking much differently than at home. Shit, I get the runs a tad when I go back to visit my mom in the mid-west--damn well water.
But nooooo, it's Mexico's fault you are sick. Then she starts blabbing about the time she got sick while in Merida. The man asks where this is and she says it is a town next to the ruins of Chichen Itza. Sigh. Lady, it is the capitol of the state of Yucatan and it is about a 2 hour drive west of Chichen Itza. And it has too many people in it to be even thought of as a town.
I know I'm getting petty; to most people who don't spend a lot of time there this is how it seems to them. But I just hate having to eat my meal listening to a know-it-all. She then proceeded to tell the ingredients in her Cosmopolitan. Just let me say this, she was wrong. Hehe.
Oh, and one last thing. During my salad more and more people join this group and I'm starting to feel boxed in, but don't want to rush my lovely dinner. There is now a woman sitting on the one long bench that we all share just a foot away from me. She turns her head to the right (towards me) and slightly down while she puts her hand in front of her face so she doesn't cough on the rest of her group. But the way she has her hand forces all the cough ON TO ME!!!! EEEEEWWWW. I quickly asked for the check and went home.
Friday, May 4, 2007
Man, this baby must corner like it's on rails!
I just have to get something off my chest here. What has happened to etiquette? When did the masses decide it wasn’t necessary any longer? What is wrong with people?
I take the subway to work. My office is next to Madison Square Garden and above Penn Station. This is where a great deal of New Jersey, and Long Island Railroad commuters come into Manhattan. Now I must have been out sick the day they sent around the memo stating that these two groups of people had free reign over walking where ever and however they wanted with no regard to others. But damn it, I’ve just about had enough.
I get out at 34th Street from the A/C/E line. I get up from my seat as the train slows to a stop. The doors open and the above mentioned masses push their way through those of us trying to get out just so they can get a fucking seat on the train. And to make matters worse, if I try to push my way out of the train while saying, “Excuse me”, these people have the NERVE to call me an asshole. HELLO?
So, in order to avoid this RUDE crush of people at the end of the train I started riding towards the last third/middle of the train. Getting out is usually not a problem, but as I near the end of the platform where the entrance/exit to the station is the above mentioned group of assholes start running for the train to get on before the doors close. I have actually been knocked to the ground by men wearing business suits. WTF? What if I were your pregnant wife? I bet you would be singing a different tune.
Is it so much to ask that you have a little common courtesy for your fellow comuter? I’m just a simple girl with a simple dream: to get to work without being knocked to the ground. Is that too much to ask?
I take the subway to work. My office is next to Madison Square Garden and above Penn Station. This is where a great deal of New Jersey, and Long Island Railroad commuters come into Manhattan. Now I must have been out sick the day they sent around the memo stating that these two groups of people had free reign over walking where ever and however they wanted with no regard to others. But damn it, I’ve just about had enough.
I get out at 34th Street from the A/C/E line. I get up from my seat as the train slows to a stop. The doors open and the above mentioned masses push their way through those of us trying to get out just so they can get a fucking seat on the train. And to make matters worse, if I try to push my way out of the train while saying, “Excuse me”, these people have the NERVE to call me an asshole. HELLO?
So, in order to avoid this RUDE crush of people at the end of the train I started riding towards the last third/middle of the train. Getting out is usually not a problem, but as I near the end of the platform where the entrance/exit to the station is the above mentioned group of assholes start running for the train to get on before the doors close. I have actually been knocked to the ground by men wearing business suits. WTF? What if I were your pregnant wife? I bet you would be singing a different tune.
Is it so much to ask that you have a little common courtesy for your fellow comuter? I’m just a simple girl with a simple dream: to get to work without being knocked to the ground. Is that too much to ask?
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Cinderfuckinrella
Well, after much discussion in my head as to whether or not to start one of these things I made a decision as you can read.
Oh, so now I have to type something? Too much pressure for now. I'll have to think about this and get back to you. Sigh.
I've spent a lot of time trying to think of what I want to call this as it is a reflection of me. It will speak volumns of how I move through the world. WTF, you will never know who I am so I should just get on with it...hmmm, title, hmmm, pressure. The pressure for a name...Cinderfuckinrella! As much as it hurts me to admit it, I happen to like that movie as it has a lot of really funny lines to shoot off at someone. "Kit, this isn't a buffet" is a favorite.
You can see how dangerous this blog might be as my mind seems to wander. So, in order to help keep it simple I have decided this will be it because after all, I'm just a simple girl with a simple dream.
Oh, so now I have to type something? Too much pressure for now. I'll have to think about this and get back to you. Sigh.
I've spent a lot of time trying to think of what I want to call this as it is a reflection of me. It will speak volumns of how I move through the world. WTF, you will never know who I am so I should just get on with it...hmmm, title, hmmm, pressure. The pressure for a name...Cinderfuckinrella! As much as it hurts me to admit it, I happen to like that movie as it has a lot of really funny lines to shoot off at someone. "Kit, this isn't a buffet" is a favorite.
You can see how dangerous this blog might be as my mind seems to wander. So, in order to help keep it simple I have decided this will be it because after all, I'm just a simple girl with a simple dream.
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