It's Christmas in New York, which means one thing to a lot of people: shopping. I've been tripping over people everywhere I go. And if I hear the damn Gap commercial with the Love Train song one more time I'm going to the nearest Gap and shove that damn stripey scarf up someone's ass. Fa la la la...
It's also been cold up here. New York has horribly depressing winter weather. We had a blizzard a couple of weeks ago. Except here it is called a noreaster, not a blizzard. In Syracuse I think they call it a flurry. In northern Virginia, it is a snow emergency that requires the federal government to shut down and everyone to go home (never mind that the roads are impassable). Of course, during the noreaster, the heat in our building goes out. Completely. No heat for two days during a snowstorm. That was fun. Last week it warmed up just enough to rain. 34 degrees and raining pretty much sucks. During that time, our ceiling started dripping. I was convinced the roof was leaking until Sean pointed out that there is another apartment upstairs. Oh yeah. How could I have forgotten when the upstairs tenants stomp around in boots all day (don't they work?!)and rearrange their furniture every couple of hours? Tidings of comfort and joy...
In other news, I had LASIK vision correction last Friday. No more glasses or contacts, hooray! If you don't know, in LASIK they actually cut a flap in your cornea, fold back the flap, use a laser to burn away very small bits of the inner layer of your cornea, then put the flap back down and tah-dah! It was a little scary. They give you numbing drops in your eyes so you cannot feel anything, but you can see things happening. I think the grossest thing was that you can actually smell it when the laser starts burning off (they call it "excising", how tidy) your cornea. Nasty. But it was worth it, I can see!!
Thursday, December 19
Monday, September 30
Picture hanging, football, beer and the mafia
Well, it's been a while since my last update, but I've had some difficulty coming up with anything interesting to report. Nothing compares to puke stories (evidently). I am happy to report that I have not gotten any more calls for the Local 207 though. Who said complaining doesn't get you anywhere?
I am still not finished unpacking. I discovered that all the walls in my apartment are painted cinderblock. How exactly does one hang pictures on cinderblock walls? Sean suggested we Krazy Glue some picture hangers (or hooks) onto the wall. Yeah, great, except I sort of already outgrew the college dorm decor. What are we, freshmen? I guess I could get that wierd Play-Doh stuff we used to stick our posters up in our dorm rooms. I'm sure it would hold a 18x24 glass frame, right? So all the things that are supposed to be hung on the walls are piled up on the couch instead. Not very artistic.
I also haven't unpacked the books. One interesting thing about not having a car is it's kind of tough to get heavy things from point A to point B. Groceries, not so bad. A 75-pound bookcase, hmmm... Well, I guess I could carry it. On the subway? Yeah right. Maybe get a cab? To Brooklyn? Yeah right. Have it shipped? Sure, if you want to pay an addition $70 shipping. Hmm. So, until I figure out how to acquire a bookcase, the books are still in their boxes. Maybe I should use the boxes as pedestals for all the pictures I can't hang on the walls.
Instead of using my weekends to unpack the remaining boxes, I have been watching football. Football season is great, because there is no better excuse to yell at the tv. Now I know relatively little about the intricate strategies of football, but I can still say things like "You could drive a truck through that hole!" (shutup Dave) or "Who calls a play like that when you're up by 7 with 14 seconds left on the clock?!". Plus you can watch the coaches curse. You can't usually hear it, but there is no mistaking Bill Cowher's "What the fuck?!"
A side effect of all this football is the vast mound of empty beer bottles that is threatening to take over my teensy kitchen. Two people times five weeks times at least 4 football games per week equals... about 50 kabillion beers. In NY you get a deposit for the empties, so we've been saving them. You pay $9 for a sixpack, you think you damn well better get back that deposit right! Besides, at this point we probably have like 5 cases of empty bottles. At 5 cents a bottle, that's umm... carry the two... six dollars. Hmm, well maybe I should just leave them on the curb then.
Speaking of which, I didn't mention this, but I'm pretty convinced that I live in a mafia neighborhood. When we were moving in, we found a ton of CRAP that the former tenant left behind. We asked the landlady what we should do with it, she said "Just leave it on the curb on Monday night. I got a private sanitation guy that comes at 4am Tuesday morning. He'll take anything." Huh. Does that sound suspicious to anyone else? She's right though. They took the old air conditioner, some dead plants, rusty deck furniture... I guess it's all sleeping with the fishes now. In the East River.
I am still not finished unpacking. I discovered that all the walls in my apartment are painted cinderblock. How exactly does one hang pictures on cinderblock walls? Sean suggested we Krazy Glue some picture hangers (or hooks) onto the wall. Yeah, great, except I sort of already outgrew the college dorm decor. What are we, freshmen? I guess I could get that wierd Play-Doh stuff we used to stick our posters up in our dorm rooms. I'm sure it would hold a 18x24 glass frame, right? So all the things that are supposed to be hung on the walls are piled up on the couch instead. Not very artistic.
I also haven't unpacked the books. One interesting thing about not having a car is it's kind of tough to get heavy things from point A to point B. Groceries, not so bad. A 75-pound bookcase, hmmm... Well, I guess I could carry it. On the subway? Yeah right. Maybe get a cab? To Brooklyn? Yeah right. Have it shipped? Sure, if you want to pay an addition $70 shipping. Hmm. So, until I figure out how to acquire a bookcase, the books are still in their boxes. Maybe I should use the boxes as pedestals for all the pictures I can't hang on the walls.
Instead of using my weekends to unpack the remaining boxes, I have been watching football. Football season is great, because there is no better excuse to yell at the tv. Now I know relatively little about the intricate strategies of football, but I can still say things like "You could drive a truck through that hole!" (shutup Dave) or "Who calls a play like that when you're up by 7 with 14 seconds left on the clock?!". Plus you can watch the coaches curse. You can't usually hear it, but there is no mistaking Bill Cowher's "What the fuck?!"
A side effect of all this football is the vast mound of empty beer bottles that is threatening to take over my teensy kitchen. Two people times five weeks times at least 4 football games per week equals... about 50 kabillion beers. In NY you get a deposit for the empties, so we've been saving them. You pay $9 for a sixpack, you think you damn well better get back that deposit right! Besides, at this point we probably have like 5 cases of empty bottles. At 5 cents a bottle, that's umm... carry the two... six dollars. Hmm, well maybe I should just leave them on the curb then.
Speaking of which, I didn't mention this, but I'm pretty convinced that I live in a mafia neighborhood. When we were moving in, we found a ton of CRAP that the former tenant left behind. We asked the landlady what we should do with it, she said "Just leave it on the curb on Monday night. I got a private sanitation guy that comes at 4am Tuesday morning. He'll take anything." Huh. Does that sound suspicious to anyone else? She's right though. They took the old air conditioner, some dead plants, rusty deck furniture... I guess it's all sleeping with the fishes now. In the East River.
Friday, August 30
Puke, umbrellas and the Local 207
Ok, so here is a question for everyone. Consider it philosophy of the mundane. If you are on a crowded subway train at rush hour and you're sick, would it be better to throw up or pass out? Sort of like the which-is-worse-and-why grossout game. This occurred to me a few days ago, as I stood smushed in a corner of a crowded train and felt like I was on the verge of doing at least one, if not both. Personally, I decided I would rather pass out, because at least that way you're spared having to face all the other commuters. Although for a while I was sorely tempted to go with puking, because I really wanted to hose down the lady in front of me who kept leaning on me and hitting me with her bag. What do they do if someone throws up on the train? What about fainting? I really need to know these things.
And speaking of mundane, I have had lots of time and opportunity to watch people in the last few weeks. And I have noticed something. People are strange. For example, what is about umbrellas that turns regular people into slobbering oblivious fools? Why do people even bother with umbrellas? In the city when it rains it is also very windy. Umbrellas are thoroughly USELESS in wind. Yet people insist on carrying them around, poking me, dripping on me, whapping me. I don't get it.
Another thing is people go into denial if you try to tell them they dialed a wrong number. Apparently my direct line at work is almost the same as the number for the Local 207, except two of the digits are reversed. At least 2 or 3 times a week, when I answer the phone ("Nature Genetics, this is Monica"), I hear in return "(fill in common male name here)?" or a confused pause and then a very suspicious "Is this the Local 207?".
"No," I say, "you must have the wrong number."
"Are you sure?" they ask me. Well, I don't know, wait a second, let me go take a survey of my coworkers and find out if any of THEM are the Local 207. Very bizarre.
"Yes, I'm sure." I tell them. Then they proceed to tell me the phone number of the Local 207, "Is this 726-9730?".
"No," I say again, "YOU HAVE THE WRONG NUMBER!"
Finally they are convinced and hang up the phone. Can anyone explain this to me? What is going on with these people? What part of 'wrong number' is so incomprehensible?
Anyway, this weekend I am moving my stuff from Virginia up to New York to my new apartment in Brooklyn. I am not really looking forward to moving during Labor Day weekend, but hey, blame Murphy. I don't have my new phone number yet (and get this [side note], the phone guy is supposed to come on Tuesday to check the jacks or something [shut up Dave] sometime between 8am and 5pm. You would think the telecommunications people could be a little more precise, wouldn't you?). But I finally broke down and got a cell phone.
Hope everyone has a terrific Labor Day weekend, and feels sorry for me having to drive back and forth in a moving van from NJ to VA to NY with everyone else on the east coast.
And speaking of mundane, I have had lots of time and opportunity to watch people in the last few weeks. And I have noticed something. People are strange. For example, what is about umbrellas that turns regular people into slobbering oblivious fools? Why do people even bother with umbrellas? In the city when it rains it is also very windy. Umbrellas are thoroughly USELESS in wind. Yet people insist on carrying them around, poking me, dripping on me, whapping me. I don't get it.
Another thing is people go into denial if you try to tell them they dialed a wrong number. Apparently my direct line at work is almost the same as the number for the Local 207, except two of the digits are reversed. At least 2 or 3 times a week, when I answer the phone ("Nature Genetics, this is Monica"), I hear in return "(fill in common male name here)?" or a confused pause and then a very suspicious "Is this the Local 207?".
"No," I say, "you must have the wrong number."
"Are you sure?" they ask me. Well, I don't know, wait a second, let me go take a survey of my coworkers and find out if any of THEM are the Local 207. Very bizarre.
"Yes, I'm sure." I tell them. Then they proceed to tell me the phone number of the Local 207, "Is this 726-9730?".
"No," I say again, "YOU HAVE THE WRONG NUMBER!"
Finally they are convinced and hang up the phone. Can anyone explain this to me? What is going on with these people? What part of 'wrong number' is so incomprehensible?
Anyway, this weekend I am moving my stuff from Virginia up to New York to my new apartment in Brooklyn. I am not really looking forward to moving during Labor Day weekend, but hey, blame Murphy. I don't have my new phone number yet (and get this [side note], the phone guy is supposed to come on Tuesday to check the jacks or something [shut up Dave] sometime between 8am and 5pm. You would think the telecommunications people could be a little more precise, wouldn't you?). But I finally broke down and got a cell phone.
Hope everyone has a terrific Labor Day weekend, and feels sorry for me having to drive back and forth in a moving van from NJ to VA to NY with everyone else on the east coast.
Friday, August 9
NY by the numbers
I thought it might be time for a brief update. It's wierd: even though I feel ridiculously busy and tons of 'new' things are going on, I can't think of a single story to tell. So I figured I would list some digits...
Here is my week 3 report on NY by the numbers:
- Miles from home to train station: about 1.5 (I think)
- Hours each way commuting (door to door): 2
- Train switches each way: 1
- Different train lines to or in NYC: over 25
- Times I almost got on the wrong train: 4 (I think)
- Crazy people who have approached me on the street: 2
- Crazy people who preach on the train: 2
- Avg $ spent on the train in 3 weeks: around $230
- Avg $ spent on gas: like $5
- Times I missed driving to Fairfax: 0
- Apartment ads I have responded to: about 25
- Apartments I have been to see: 2
- Pets allowed by 1 landlord I contacted: up to 1 cat
Ok, I have a quesion: how do you have 'up to' 1 cat? Do cats come in halves? So could I have 2 half-cats? What about other pets? Like how many ferrets would equal 1 cat? How many fish? Geckos?
Anyway, I guess that is about all the rambling I have time for right now.
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