Danke

Saturday, I was heading home from Queens to take a shower, and then go back into the city to meet up with some friends. On the train (not the subway) there are four-seaters, where two open seats face each other. These are especially nice because when you sit there the likely hood of not having to sit right next to some one is 99.5% in your favor. This is because the space between the two facing seats is about 4 inches and everyone knows it's awkward to knock knees with a stranger unless you've been dipping into the booze. Well, I have experienced the .5% in which no one should have to go through. When I sat down, I waited for the other person who would sit kiddy corner from me, because us solo travelers stick together, and understand the awesomeness of this seat. Then a woman turns to sit, and she sits right next to me, and then a man sits directly across from her. The next thing I know I am smushed against the nasty train wall/window because they are making out, practically on top of me. I could tell them to stop, if they didn't speak German AND I literally had to climb over them when I got to my stop. New Jersey Transit is my worst enemy.

Busy Little Bee

The person who said "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" was, obviously, not friends with the one who said "out of sight, out of mind." Or they were friends, and one had a stronger like than the other. Absence does not make my heart fonder. Absence makes me bad at staying in contact, therefore forgetful and unfonder. Unfonder is a new word, use it, love it. I'm more keen on the whole "out of sight" thing, but knowing full well as a woman, nothing is out of mind, and it will never be because I constantly think about the same thing over and over again. Fudge.

I know I just rambled for a whole paragraph, whatever.

Also, I've decided I need to make more/new friends (but keep the old -- thank you, girlscouts) so that's what I'll do. Eventually. When I learn how. I joined meetup.com, but Im not sure I have to balls to actually go to any events. Words of encouragement are encouraged. Please and thank you.

Sickly being

I'm getting sick, I can feel it. My skin gets ridiculously sensitive, and my throat gets a "twinge" as I like to call it. I'm not looking forward to it, but at least it's happening now, and not around the holidays (knock on wood). Also I am attempting to drink more water. Maybe the whole "sick" thing is my body confused because I'm being nice to it instead of injecting it with beer. Nah.


I just (JUST) realized it's Thursday. WHAT?! awesome.

A (compass) rose by any other name

When I was walking to lunch today, I over heard a girl talking on her phone and she says"Well, I know which way West is, so East must be the other side, right?"

DUH.

Shorty, say what?!

Getting to the main floor of Penn Station from the train platform takes some strategy. However you have a player advantage if you are short like me. The double edge sword of being short is a) you get pushed around a lot in a crowd, vs b) you are able to snake your way through the toughest of crowds before anyone realizes what just happened. Ok, back to topic. Penn Station. The platform is like a long dusty runway, and every so often (and I say that generously) there is either an escalator or a stairwell. I have realized that the quickest way to the tops of these is to do two things.

1.) As people funnel in from both sides like cattle, stick to the middle, because if/when you do get shoved around atleast there isn't a way that you would be shoved out of the crowd, but more likely stay in the middle or better yet closer to the "stairway to heaven" -- so to speak. This is the step where the height factor comes into play.

and

2.) Stand by a man. Seriously. If they are a true gentleman they will let ladies go first (or atleast one...and hopefully me). If you'r ea dude and you're reading this, Im sorry about your luck.

Ring Ring Ring Banana phone

Monday.
As if it's not bad enough to have to go back to work after two days off, I rode the morning commute with someone who is brain dead. This person decided that they needed to change their ringtone on their cellphone, and, well you know, what perfect time than on a train packed full of people? I'm pretty sure their phone had atleast 100 options, and they needed to hear every single one. Seriously, dude? Much like getting dressed in the morning, this is something that needs to be done in the privacy of your own home. So please Mr. Canon-in-D-techno-remix man, spare us, because things like this is what makes a person hate the morning.

Athletes of another sort.

On Saturday, Canz Roadhouse, in Queens, opened it's door for 200 well-trained athletes for the 3rd Annual Beerlympics. I am proud to say that I was one of them. Events ranged from Beer Pong to Karaoke to Canoe Race. All though we didn't place (we did very well) my team of 6 did win the prize for best name which was "Surprise! You're Pregnant!" I am now the proud owner of a "Beerlympics 2010" Pint glass full of NYC condoms. That in itself is an achievement. Good Job Team.

Now I will say that Canz is the douchiest bar I've been to in a long time. It's the bar that all of the "Bro's" go to, where the girls are half dressed and their "shirts" say "Do you like our canz?" ....YES, that bar. Will I go back? Good God, NO. I do appreciate their hospitality though.

Laura and I cleaned our apartment this weekend. Ok, not only this weekend, but on a Friday night. Who are we?? It looks great, and smells normal again! We win. I don't think I've mentioned this but, the people on either side of our apartment have babies (that cry...a lot, because that's what babies do when they aren't pooping or eating) Personally, I think it's some sick joke that the universe is playing on Laura and I, but I also consider it some really great birth control.

Flood warning

I can only assume New Yorkers are made of sugar, and in the event of rain, they melt. Hence why, on a rainy day, you can find a majority of the people wearing galoshes up to their knees, a rain jacket (hood up and tied), plus the biggest umbrella you will have ever seen in your entire life (because walking through a crowd isnt hard enough, already).

My morning was made by a man wearing a plastic gold crown, whistling all of the lyrics to Stair Way to Heaven in the subway station, and concord grapes from the farmers market.