Archives for the month of: August, 2011


He is still rather jolly while lying in the gutter.



If you are looking for Santa, he is on the corner of Ainslie and Bushwick by the hydrant.

Must talk loudly on iphone while shopping for emergency grapefruits.

As the first drops of Irene fell Saturday morning everyone sprung into action. Hipsters throughout north Brooklyn, from Greenpoint to Bushwick, were up at the crack of ten to gather essentials. PBR, Red Bull, and American Spirits were flying off the shelves. Some people even bought produce that wasn’t organic.

After 11am the true scope of this storm was brought into sharp focus: Khim's was out of organic beets.

Can't believe they are closing down the subway. How am I gonna get to Ave. B to get my sleeve worked on?

Irene better not mess with my shiny new Vespa. Should I cover it or chain it down? Naw, Bro- It looks great.

My feelings are more important than yours.

Getting to work via the subway is never fun. On good days it is tolerable and you are thankful for that. I have begun a new subway commute and after just one week I have had it with the pole leaners. Chris Rock once elegantly stated, If you have a daughter it is your “only job in life is to keep her off the pole.” I believe this goes for subway poles as well. Nice job, Dad.

I'm leaning here! I'm leaning here!

Both photos on this post are form the SAME COMMUTE. Rush hour. What is with god’s special snowflakes that they believe the pole was put there just for them? Rub your butt against it and block and entire section of seats because you are that special. Come on, those nasty, pink-eye ridden poles are there so those of us unlucky enough to not get a seat don’t have to go flying across the car every time the train makes a turn or a lurching stop. They are not there for you to claim as your own little subway kingdom. Stay off the dang pole.

Move to the big city and talk like a dolt.

Everyday, I hear 20-something loud talkers blundering their way through the language. Are declarative sentences now uncouth and no one told me? I hear voice after voice trailing upwards at the end of every sentence as if every utterance is a question. Or they communicate in vague phrases that only echo the information that they are trying to express. I witnessed a prime example of this needlessly opaque communication style last night at a local burger joint.

Now there is little excuse for confusion at a place with five things on the menu: Three burgers and two types of fries is all this place offers. But when the couple at the table beside me was served dinner, all inarticulate hell broke loose.

“Our fry situation, is, like, totally, reversed?!” said the young woman in the 60’s style print cotton dress and platform wedge peep toe woven straw sandals. Her face was contorted in disgust as if piles of rodents had just been delivered to her table.

The waiter had little response except for a look of confusion like the one I flash at my cat after he has squealed out a meow that is eerily similar to an English word.

The boyfriend was just starring at the baskets of dinner. Not trusting them now that his date was so upset, but not comprehending the meaning of her outrage.

She tried again while pointing at herself then her date, “I, like, didn’t want the sweet potato fries? But, like, he totally did?”

A light went on behind the waiter’s eyes and he grabbed for the baskets.

The boyfriend finally displayed his liberal arts college reasoning skills, “Naw, could we just swap sandwiches?”

“Oh, yah,” she agreed. They exchanged beef burger for fish burger and had the fries of their liking.

I should stop paying attention to others and just enjoy the view of this grape vine.

Why was it so difficult for these two to figure this out? Why even involve the waiter and why address him with such babble? She would have had a better chance of being understood if she were speaking pig Latin and she wouldn’t have looked as childish doing it.

A few minutes later when this same waiter brought my companion and myself our baskets of burgers and fries, he was still on edge from his earlier encounter and had slipped into non sequiturs. “I don’t know about the fries and stuff?” he tentatively asserted while placing the food in the middle of the table. Incoherence must be catching.