Category: Miscellanea


Woot woot

Sometime back I tweeted about not posting to my blog with my phone. WordPress tweeted back with a link to a tutorial on how to. My reply was, “oh I know how, I don’t like to because tags don’t populate in the field.” Their response lead me to believe it was something they were working on. 
Fast forward to today when I came on to post on my knitting blog and while checking out my blogs I follow saw a post about ‘searchable tags’. Color me a happy girl. 😊 

Frustration

My plan was to log on tonight and clean up my blogs.

Today I went on WordPress and was appalled at how I had been neglecting my blogs. I started a new one to separate my stories from my crafts (because they are free so why not?) and saw how outdated they were. I was ashamed and decided that tonight I would fix that.

When I got home I …. started knitting. My red hat was just not turning out the way I wanted it to and so I had to start another. Then I opened my laptop and clicked on Chrome …. and nothing happened. An hour later after downloading and trying to reinstall, still nothing. I am fucking pissed.

Right now I am using Opera. But I couldn’t figure out how to transfer my bookmarks and of COURSE, I don’t have the websites names written down.

This is my life.

On the subway

There is no place like New York and nothing like the NYC subway system. I have determined there are three types of people that talk to me on the subway.

There are the people who ask for money. From what they say, none of them do drugs, none of them drink, all have suffered some unimaginable tragedy and can’t get government assistance.

There are the people asking me for directions. “Do I look like Google maps?”

There are the people offering to help find your train, this is usually followed by a request for money, so they could fall into the first category. What is really annoying is some of them feel they need to lead you to the correct train and “STOP TOUCHING ME”. I should get a medal for not stabbing people.

Then there is your random crazy person, like the tall skinny black man that told me I was “a white whore and you’re going to die of AIDS and cancer.” And the woman who offered me oral sex. She was convinced I would love it and I was just, “Ew no, germs.” Like I said, I should get a medal.

Do you remember the dress?

It was a while ago. Not a super long time but not recent. What color is the dress? It went viral as they say, to the point that a scientist wrote an article about why some people saw one color and some saw another. Even though much attention was brought to it, I never paid it much attention.

One day this week, on the subway, I was standing next to this woman, she was talking to a girl that was sitting down looking at her phone. It looked like mother daughter, so that’s how I’ll write it. The daughter asked her mother to look at a picture on her phone, the first time it was too dark, so the girl adjusted something and showed it to her mother again. I glanced down, it was ‘the dress’. “What color is it?” the daughter asks, “Blue and black” the mother says, the daughter agrees. I looked at the exact same image as the woman, I saw a white and gold dress.

MIND. BLOWN.

Back to the train

This morning’s commute was bad. I confess most of it was my fault. 

First I overslept my alarm. I had a headache and sat around waiting for the Aleve to kick in, by the time I got to the subway I knew I wouldn’t make it in time, but then … People were running up the stairs screaming – there’s a man on the track! – They seemed to be mad at the man in the booth, but what could he do? He grabbed the phone as soon as he could. 

So I got on the bus. Limited so it only went as far as 68th, I needed to go to 59th. I walked it, then got on the “R” train, which is not the right train. I got off the train at Queens Plaza to catch the E to Court Square, instead I got on the M and ended up … back at Lexington and 59th. Which is weird, cause I didn’t think the M stopped there. From there I got on the right train an went to work. Only 2 hours late. 

Breaking ALL the rules

People always comment how New Yorkers don’t wait for the walk signal, we just wait for the traffic to clear and dart across the street. It’s like we are a city of rule breakers. I have to agree, let me explain.

What’s the biggest rule moms tell their kids? No not clean your room! That’s mom’s fantasy. No moms are always telling their kids, Don’t get in a car with a stranger. Right? So you live your life running away from ride offers from people you don’t know.

Then you move to NYC, and you don’t have a car because, A) it is freakishly expensive to keep a car in NYC; B) the subway and bus system is beyond compare, who needs a car? Then one day you’re in a rush, you need to get across town RIGHT NOW, so you stick out your arm, a yellow car stops and you get in. You get in a car WITH A STRANGER. BOOM, mom’s rule has been broken.

But wait, you say, it is this strangers job to transport you safely to your destination (notice I said safely, not necessarily untraumatized, but I’ll consider cabbie driving habits in another post), maybe so I say, BUT, we all watch TV, and we know there are serial killers masquerading as taxi drives just waiting for a snowstorm and an unsuspecting victim! Once you break this rule and survive, this emboldens you break other rules, like crossing against the light. It’s no wonder we all do it.

While scrolling through my twitter feed I came across the following tweet.

Even though I grew up in the South I have been living in New York for almost all of my adult life, I was sure I would be familiar with most of these foods. As this list demonstrates New York and New England have some major differences at least food wise. A few of these I have eaten, some I have known of for years, some friends have talked about but most had me scratching my head and saying: “What the ….”

The link in the tweet takes you an article with only 9 of them, the following link is for the original article with all 22 items.

22 Things You’ve Definitely Eaten If You Grew Up In New England

After saying “What I missed not growing up in New England!” @eladyland said, Florida probably has a list too; hmmm no, not really. After giving it serious consideration, I could only come up with two, and one of those is southern not Florida specific. Biscuits and gravy, and strawberry shortcake.

The strawberry shortcake I am talking about it the kind you get at the Strawberry festival in Plant City. Where you get a plate with a biscuit on it, a huge biscuit, split in half, then you walk along a table with a bowl of strawberries and a bowl of whipped cream and pile them on.

Biscuits and gravy is not a Florida food. I don’t even know if you can get it there. The gravy is sausage gravy, basically a white sauce with sausage in it. The sausage is cooked before adding to the gravy so its not real greasy, but you can still feel it sticking to your arteries when you eat it. The biscuits are huge, as big as my brother’s hand. You can’t get it here in NYC, it used to be available at Denny’s or Perkins but no more. Even when they had it the biscuits were small.

Whenever I go visit my parents I make them take me to every restaurant in driving distance that serves biscuits and gravy. I just love it.

Those are the foods I remember from my childhood. Everything else, is pretty much what everybody had as a child.

Coming home

Last night I went to see the Staten Island Yankees. Yes I know this is not my sports blog, while the game was fun, except we lost, and I found out that Richmond County Bank Ballpark serves Honkers Ale, but we lost, and a helmet bowl serving of nachos is enough for two (maybe three) people, which I should have realized when they gave me two forks, instead of thinking, “Hey a fork for each hand!” The fireworks were nice, I watched from the pavilion next to the ferry station because I wanted to get home before midnight.

The reason I am writing this here is I wanted to write about my commute home, which was pretty bad but kind of funny at the same time. You can imagine that after eating all those nachos, which were pretty good by the way, and drinking a couple of Honkers Ales my tummy was not feeling great. Ferry ride was rather uneventful and while on the ferry I was trying to figure out how to get home. Normally I would walk from the ferry to the Green train, but that would mean walking past the park and there are rats in the park. I’ve never seen them, but people have told me they are there and while we were docking I saw one on the dock. The Red train is right by the ferry terminal. That was the train I wanted to take, I just had to figure out how to get home.

In the first car I got in was a little girl with a very loud and very shrill voice, she was accompanied by her mother who also had a very loud and very shrill voice. At the first stop I got off and got into the next car forward. Which was crowded and also pretty loud. There was one man who was especially loud, I could hear him over everyone else, and he was laughing. Sometimes I get very agitated by noise, this was one of those times. He was also smoking, which I didn’t notice at first, when I noticed the smoke I at first thought it was because someone next to me was a smoker, you know how smoker’s clothes will smell like smoke, then a woman started shouting about “The smoker on the train!” Which added to my upset frame of mind. I really don’t know why she was shouting since he was already out the door when she started yelling.

Time Square was where I planned to change trains to the Yellow train that would take me to the Green train. I got on the “Q”, which was only going to 47th Street, which I didn’t realize until after I was on and the doors closed. That meant another train change, but when the “N” train pulled in I could see the car wasn’t crowded so when I doors opened I entered and headed for an empty seat and stopped, right in front of the seat I was going to sit in was a puddle of vomit. I looked at some women sitting across from it, they both gave me the “Yes it’s vomit” smile and nod. So I stood until we got to the Green train station. The Green train was crowded. Not horribly, but uncomfortably so. New York is the city that never sleeps, so there is always people on the subway, even at midnight.

Running for charity.

This was last year. I signed up to do this again, I raised more money but took longer to finish the run. I am kind of disappointed in that, but I still finished. 2014 my time was 52 minutes 12 seconds.

Perfection

Is not attainable in its true sense. But what about relative perfection? Sunday I had to go to Brooklyn, after telling myself over and over again that I needed to leave earlier than I left Saturday, I ended up leaving later. Then when I got to Lexington and 59th I waited for the Q train, and waited and waited. I saw a girl going to the same event I was going to and we started talking about “No Q train” trying to figure out another way to get there and she said, “It always happens on the day you need everything to be perfect.” Perfect for us at that moment was making all our train connections smoothly, at the proper station and without waiting. We made it to Brooklyn, but we were late.

Today was another special event I planned to go to. For this event I didn’t have to go to Brooklyn, but I had to dress up pretty, do my hair and makeup and hopefully not be sick feeling. I woke up with cramps I thought they were stomach cramps from my soup the night before and thought maybe I was developing an allergy to black beans. One of my great-nieces is allergic to black beans. As I was getting ready for work I realized they weren’t stomach cramps and I wasn’t going to be feeling well for the special event in the evening. Then when I came home from work early so I could ready, I was going to iron my dress and make dinner, instead I sat down on the couch and fell asleep. I barely had time to take a bath and get dressed. Fortunately my friends are not critical. But I was not happy.

Perfection, not attainable in any form.