Category Archives: observations and such

There’s a homeless jerk who uses the quiet F train platform at 2nd Ave as another kind of platform. He annoys me so much, and I’ve been working on what to say to him for a year and a half now. More on that later.

This morning, his little pearls of wisdom include:

1. Kisses and hugs are dangerous for they sometimes lead to marriage. Marriage should be avoided at all costs.

2. Love is bad. I’m currently in a psychotic relationship with my dog. I tell him all the time that I love him, and he never says it back.

3. Never touch a lesbian. You’ll catch it.

4. Women are the inferior race. I know this for a fact.

Ooooooh homeboy needs to be smacked.

Penn Station was a mob of people both trying to get out of town for Thanksgiving and trying to get to Herald Square for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. A man was running past me with two young boys, and I heard him ask, “What do you do if you lose me? You don’t try to find your way home. And you don’t ride trains or taxis around all day. So what do you do?” A tiny voice yelled, “Well. We run for our lives!”

Whenever I try to text someone that I’m on my way via “in a cab,” my autocorrect changes it to “in a can.” The end.

Who’s bringing you your morning coffee? And is it in an obnoxious mug like this?

I’m pretty sure no one else noticed this on their morning commute, but amNY got a headline all wrong today:

DKNY. Suckers.

The best and worst things about walking everywhere in Manhattan, as I’m prone to do since I live approximately 20 minutes from the closest train, include:

BEST: walking past an overly air-conditioned establishment, such as a hotel or Banana Republic, when their door is open. A waft of AC smacks my legs, and it feels like heaven.

WORST: having to go potty. I swear I was so so close to having a SATC Charlotte moment today as I walked the 30 mins back to my apartment from lingerie land. It was so horrible.

The best and worst things about that decision I made two years ago to move to Manhattan include:

BEST: seeing “Associate Editor” next to my name on the masthead in the October issue (not on newsstands for awhile, but still).

WORST: being so far from home. That, and having a bathtub but being too scared to actually bathe in it.

The best and worst things about dating at 26:

BEST: (insert anything you want here)

WORST: realizing how many guys I had to date before finding one who knows how to brew coffee, pour it into a mug, add milk, and bring it to me in bed.

The best and worst things about going to DC this weekend for Kaitlyn’s bachelorette party include:

BEST: seeing Kaitlyn, Anna, Morgan, Dani, and Sarah. Shopping for lingerie. Seeing Kaitlyn, Anna, Morgan, Dani, and Sarah.

WORST: knowing I have to leave them again in two days.

I’m impatient in the worst way. I’ll let a shopkeeper check his gmail for 20 minutes while I wait to be helped. I’ll slowly climb the stairs behind an ancient person instead of run around them to the top. I’ll sip a negroni or two or three while I wait to be seated even though the hostess has clearly forgotten about me. I’ll even watch a little person work out a word problem for five minutes when I’ve know the answer for four and a half.

But when it comes to presents and treats … I just can’t wait. You will get your birthday present a week before your birthday if I have found it already. I will burn my tongue on the clams linguine I’ve made while everyone else watches me in disgust and waits for theirs to cool down. You will find out tomorrow about the surprise I planned for Valentine’s Day next February. And I will stir in the flour instead of sifting if it means fresh-from-the-oven blueberry muffins with a cinnamon crumb topping will fly into my pie hole sooner than later.

So it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that I stopped the banana infusion process today instead of waiting until, say, tomorrow to be sure I got the most banana flavor into my whiskey as possible. Doh!

But it was so worth it. I strained out the bananas and poured the banana-ey whiskey back into the Jameson bottle. And whaddya know? It wouldn’t fit! My trusty bananas left behind enough juice to increase the volume, and I’m having myself a nice little nightcap as a result:

Nevermind the fact I spilled 1/3 of my nightcap onto my freshly laundered duvet cover. I’m happy as a clam. This stuff is smooth and delicious and combines my favorite type of liquor (bourbon is the ultimate whiskey in my book, and then Jameson is a close second) with my most favorite flavor ever (banana bread, banana gelato, banana Runts, banana muffins, banana crepes, banana pancakes, banana chips, banana banana banana banana banana).

Night night, suckers.

On my way into the security checkpoint at the airport, the old man checking my ID card against my boarding pass stopped me. “You look much younger than in your ID picture. You know that?” I smiled. Of course I know that. I get carded to sample cheese at Sam’s Club. To be nice, I said, “I do now!” Then the tiny Asian girl in front of me walked through the security metal detector, and the equally-Asian airport security guard stopped her. Her turn for an annoying you-look-young-because-you’re-Asian chat, I thought. “You Korean?” he asked. She hesitated and looked at the security guard as though he were crazy, then added, “Yes. I-I-I am.” “Great, so, I am too. So why don’t you get through the security check, get your things off the belt over there, put your shoes on and then grab your cell phone so I can get your number and we can hang out when you fly back. Okay?” “Uh, okay. … Am I done? Can I walk through to the belt?” “Yes.” That girl couldn’t put her shoes on and run to her gate fast enough. Racial profiling at its finest.

On my walk home from work, I saw a man waiting for his dog to finish sniffing around a sign on the middle of the sidewalk. When he finally realized his dog was pooping, also on the middle of the sidewalk, the man cried, “Location! Location! Location!” You’re welcome for not including a photo with this post.