Get Your Freak On

My roommate Jen and I were headed out last night and as we walked down the street a truck of NYC firemen drove past. As they drove by they waved at my roommate and she waved back. Now I knew we were both looking good so I congratulated her and jokingly said, "girl, you got your game on tonight"

This boy that stands on the street handing out coupons for the local sneaker shop overheard me and replied, "That's right!" We all laughed and continued on our way. 

This evening I was headed home and I passed the same young man outside the sneaker shop. We locked eyes and I knew that he knew who I was. I suddenly became aware that I was still wearing the same clothes that I had on last night...He gave me a knowing nod and I knew he was thinking, "Girl got her game on las night." I wanted to say, "It's not what you think sneaker boy", but I knew there was no point, so I straightened my skirt, held my head up and just kept walking.

 

I love me neighborhood.

The New Yorker

After being in New York for a year I have gotten in the habit of carrying reading material for the train. Some people listen to music, others beg for money, and workaholics like to type emails while they stare at the top right corner of their blackberry, so as not to miss the second their mobile service is restored. All of these options are appealing, but I feel that reading is the superior choice and here's why:

1. Reading material doesn't run out of batteries

2. It doesn't disturb your neighbor

3. The Jonas Brothers are less embarrassing when being read about

4. If you get stuck on the train for a long time, you can eat it

5. People will think you're smart

For some time I have been carrying Time magazine, which was purchased for me as a gift, but I have been in search of something a little more substantial. I finally decided on The New Yorker and after two weeks of anticipation, I finally received my first issue. That's right, I subscribe to The New Yorker, and I am here to tell you, The New Yorker is cool.

For one, unlike Time, it has articles that are longer than a page and weren't on CNN a week earlier. Also, I just like what it seems to say about me. Reading Time I always felt like an AP government student. Now, with The New Yorker, I feel like an intellectual, somewhat liberal, honest-to-gosh, new yorker. It's like being part of an exclusive club. I don't even have to flash the cover because the cartoons are a dead giveaway (for others of my kind at least). I've already had at least three stimulating conversations that never would have happened if it weren't for this fine collection of modern literature conveniently delivered to my door.  

In fact, the only thing that's not cool about me subscribing to The New Yorker, is how much I've been talking about the fact that I subscribe to The New Yorker. I keep interjecting into conversations with phrases like, "Yeah, I saw an interesting review of that in The New Yorker" or "according to The New Yorker..." I feel like Joey on that episode of Friends where he buys only the V volume of an encyclopedia and all he brings up in conversation are topics that start with V. How about that Vesuvius? 

Note to Self

Don't put something somewhere if the whole time you're thinking, "I'm never going to remember I put this here", especially if it's your favorite red dress and you're hiding it on a hanger underneath your winter coat.

Seriously what's my problem? Maybe it's the thrill of the chase. 

Can you repeat that?

Today my friend received a text message from his roommate that read "I have a lot of sausage". As it turned out, his roommate has decided to write a text that was so long he had to send it in two parts and my friend had read the second part first. All his roommate was trying to tell him was that he was making spaghetti (with sausage in the sauce) and he wanted to know if my friend would care for any, because he had a lot of sausage.

Little miscommunications like this always tickle my fancy, especially when they go on for a while AND involve your coworkers. Awkwardness+coworkers is almost always a good time. An incident last week went a little something like this:

Scene: Lunch with co-workers (who happen to include my boyfriend). Everyone sits around a large bar eating and talking amongst themselves. One employee (Stephanie) reads New York magazine.  

Stephanie: Did you know the average amount of apartments for a woman is 6 and for a man it's 37?

Me to my boyfriend: How many apartments have you had?

Boyfriend: Oh I dunno, there were a few in college and the one I shared with my friend, and...

Stephanie abruptly: Are you seriously going to do this in front of us???

Me: What? I just want to know how many apartments he's had.

Stephanie: I said partners not apartments.

Boyfriend: Oh god, that could have gone on for a while.

If my father were a transexual

I would most definitely get him this for Father's day.  

Don't forget to call your Dads!