Monday, August 27, 2007

Two Conversations: Mostly-Shirt-Free Lady on the Train

Me: Oh my God.

Matthew: I know.

Me: Look at them.

Matthew: I am. OK, don't look at them.

Me: Sorry. They're just mesmerizing.

Uh huh.

Me: Maybe we could draw little eyes on them.

Matthew: [Looking at me in alarm.]

And stick a carrot between them!

Matthew: ...

And then do you know what we'd have?



Matthew: You. Are. So. Weird.

I know.

Matthew: WEIRD.

I mean, come on.

Two Conversations: The Wiley Ways of the TV Equipments

Me: How did you do that?

Matthew: Do what?

Me: Turn off the TV like that.

Matthew: I ... used the remote?

Me: But that's the wrong remote! That's the cable remote. You have to use the TV remote.

It's a universal remote.

Me: No!


Me: It's a miracle!


BTW? I have had this set-up for over a year.

Saturday, August 25, 2007

Actual Phone Message Left for Laura Just Now

"What is up, G. Money? It's ... me. It's, um, 6:40 and I'm calling you. I am primarily eating cookies and menstruating. Also watching Psychic Detectives. So ... if you call me, I'll most likely be here. OK ... bye!"

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Maternal Instinct

I nearly struck a small child this afternoon on the train, because he was poking me repeatedly with an umbrella. Possibly the only thing that stopped me was the memory, trapped, no doubt, at the cellular level, of the look of horror on my sister's face some years ago when I recommended that a screaming child on the Acela be euthanized.

"It's very clearly broken," I explained. "Maybe we could get its people a lovely shar-pei."

Today's child wasn't a babe in arms, which makes his behavior much less excusable. In fact, he was old enough to walk, although not old enough to protest when his parents dressed him in a teeny set of overalls and weirdly girlie pink rainboots. So I'm guessing about four or five. He poked me in the side with his small-person-sized umbrella, and then - this was the worst part - he smiled.

"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" I said.

He giggled. Poke, poke, poke.

"A little lower," I said. "See if you can get the kneecap."

His Dad, who seemed to only speak Mandarin, took no notice. The ladies across the train, however, thought the whole thing was hilarious. Which brings me to my next two points:

1) I have the least scary face in the world, even when I'm annoyed.
2) Kids, dogs and cats will insist on sitting on me, even though - maybe because - I'm slightly allergic to all of them.

In anticipation of your protests: There are many pets and people of small size near and dear to my heart. I love my sister's dog, and both of my cousin Shannie's little girls. But these are blood relatives (yes, even the dog) and therefore much easier to understand.

Sunday, August 19, 2007

Formal Apologies

Of course I owe you, dear readers, an apology. It's been a bad few weeks for posting. I would like to tell you that I have an excuse, but I think we all know that I am just lazy. However, if it makes you feel any better, you are not the only ones deserving of an amends from me at the moment.

Due to an uncharacteristic bout of public canoodling, I have most likely offended a large portion of New York City in recent days. (Note: This includes only Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens. If you're in the Bronx and Staten Island, you're probably safe. For now.)

Anyway, more posting soon. I have stories, I swear.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

More Soon

But for now:


We were very tired, we were very merry—
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable—
But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table,
We lay on a hill-top underneath the moon;
And the whistles kept blowing, and the dawn came soon.

We were very tired, we were very merry—
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry;
And you ate an apple, and I ate a pear,
From a dozen of each we had bought somewhere;
And the sky went wan, and the wind came cold,
And the sun rose dripping, a bucketful of gold.

We were very tired, we were very merry,
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
We hailed, "Good morrow, mother!" to a shawl-covered head,
And bought a morning paper, which neither of us read;
And she wept, "God bless you!" for the apples and pears,
And we gave her all our money but our subway fares.

- Edna St. Vincent Millay

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Artichoke Preparedness and You

My hummus wrap this afternoon had artichokes in it. Now, understand, I'm not against artichokes, but I do feel that one should be prepared for them. There is nothing worse than encountering an artichoke that you're not ready for.

With this in mind, I would like to offer, from the depths of my neuroses, several things that YOU can do TODAY to PREPARE FOR ARTICHOKE ENCOUNTERS:

1) Consider the nature of your meal. I am omnivorous, and proudly so, which means that my eating habits intersect with a number of different culinary lifestyles. I might, for example, have meatloaf. Or I might have the hummus wrap. The hummus is where I get into trouble. If vegans might eat it, you must BEWARE OF ARTICHOKES.

2) Examine the headgear of the person serving you. Is it properly intended as a hat? Or was it, at one time, a wrap, t-shirt or sock? If one of the latter is true, you should BEWARE OF ARTICHOKES.

3) If you encounter an artichoke, do not panic. Remind yourself that vegetables in all forms are our friends, here to sustain us until we can get to the next steak house. Many vitamins come from our vegetable friends. I haven't done anything approaching research on this, since otherwise I wouldn't qualify as a blogger, but I'm pretty sure artichokes have some sort of nutritional benefit. However, they are slimy, so you should still BEWARE OF THEM.

Admittedly lovely artichoke photo courtesy of Spychic on Flickr. Some rights reserved, etc.