So I know that a lot of things got posted today. Sorry to overwhelm those of you who actually read this with any regularity but I feel that I owe you in advance. The Shenaniganist is heading home for the holidays (and by heading, I mean is home and is done posting until January-ish).
Happy holidays to everyone and enjoy celebrating my birthday…I mean New Year’s Eve.
So, I’m at home with Rachel earlier this evening and we hear what sounds like it might be a car alarm. This really only matters because Rachel has a vendetta against alarms after being woken up by one this morning. She jumped up to check out the window and see if she could spot the offending car. What she saw instead?
Was there a squabble at the school across the street? Was there a car crash? What happened? We don’t know. Again, all we could figure out was that there were cops, sirens and ambulances. Un-discussed city mayhem is following me today. What’s going on here?
Today was an interesting day at work. I ventured out of the office and headed to Duane Reade to get some cash. Unfortunately the ATM in my usual Duane Reade wasn’t functioning. I managed to find another Duane Reade and by the time I made it back to the office my initial DR was blocked off and being monitored by police. Well that’s curious. I asked a police officer what happened. He had no idea but when someone else informed us that there was a package left outside the store, the cop simply commented “Welcome to New York.” Fair enough I guess. I went back into the building only to head out 20 minutes later. I thought all was said and done in the DR incident, but when I tried to leave the building I was directed to exit at the opposite side. When I made it outside I saw this:
The entire block was blocked off. Most of the entrances to my building were blocked off. I didn’t think there was any reason to be concerned though because when I tried to go back into the building I was let right in. Clearly we hadn’t reached evacuation mode yet. I took the elevator up to my floor (in the 40′s) and was immediately met by 3 of my co-workers (2 of whom are higher up than me). They decided that they weren’t going down with the ship and who am I to argue with that logic?
After self-evacuating we headed for McDonald’s (in times of crisis…) to meet yet more people from our office. Not willing to take any chances, we took off down the street for Starbuck’s. My cell phone rang–another girl from the office–and minutes later our little caravan (up to 5) was joined by 3 more. We asked a cop if he thought we were far enough away. His response? “I hope so.” Not necessarily comforting.
So where am I going with this (other than to tell you all about my morning at work)? Nowhere really. Except to wonder if “welcome to New York, where we block off entire city blocks for packages” is the M.O., then shouldn’t the people who work in the building that you’ve blocked off get some kind of heads up? I mean, should I head for the hills or hang out in my office? I know there’s no fire, but could you ring the alarm anyway? Get a little attention brewing? It’s always better to hear from the inside that something might be happening, than to get a call from friends on the outside wondering what is happening.
Or not. All I know is that yellow tape does not always symbolize the need for alarm. Sometimes, it’s just there for a good story and a chance to get out of the office.
Yesterday morning while waiting for the 6 train I witnessed an interesting and (I thought) unusual interaction. The first thing I noticed was the guy standing next to me lean to his left to better hear what the woman on his left was saying to him. I cocked an ear and listened too (obviously). What did I hear? The shrill voice of a commuting woman saying “You are pushing me.” The boy, clearly shocked that a native New Yorker would be shocked that she was being shoved in her attempt to get on the train, stood back, widely gestured toward the doors and said simply: “By allllll means.”
We shuffled onto the train and Snooty McCranky continued to glare at both the guy and, for some reason, me. A few stops later, Mister Shocked exited the train and Snooty took a seat. I shifted further into the train and Captain America (who was standing behind me) shifted as well, knocking over his laptop case in the process. Snooty attempted to be nice and hand him back his case but she defeated her attempt by glaring at him the whole time.
When I got off of the train yesterday, I thought I’d left my cast of characters behind, but I was wrong. I don’t normally leave for work at the same time every day but I managed to get out the door the same time today as yesterday. And I was greeted by Snooty and Shocked at the platform (standing, of course, with at least 4 people in between them). When the train arrived, we all filtered in and took our spots. I was standing near the further door, jamming to a little FOB and minding my own business. Until, that is, I looked up and saw Snooty glaring at me. I’m not sure how I offended her during yesterday’s debacle, but clearly I made a lasting impression. Admittedly, it could have been the curly hair and the yellow coat that she recognized rather than the eyes rolling straight to the back of my head, but one can never be sure in a situation like that.
I know that last night’s faux season finale (season pause if you will) of The Hills has left some of you feeling a little…well, empty. And I wanted to do something to help. And I think that this might help:
They tend to say that New Yorkers aren’t that friendly. That they don’t take the time to get to know their neighbors. Well, Rachel and I are proving whoever “they” are wrong. So so wrong.
Every evening (and sometimes in the morning) Rachel and I gather and bond with one of our neighbors. The shower singer. He’s quite possibly the best part of living in our apartment. He practices his scales. He belts out operas. He’s basically the bomb. And he’s so much the bomb that I don’t even care that the phrase “the bomb” is hugely out (if it was ever in to begin with).
Rachel and I are truly grateful for our relationship with shower man. When we’re feeling down, we walk into the bathroom, sit on the toilet seat and tub ledge respectively and listen. He tends to stick mainly to classical though this morning I did hear a little Snow Patrol. We’re hoping to grow close enough to eventually request songs. We prefer he dabble in pieces from the top 40 list but for now, we’re taking we got and valuing our neighbors.
The vid:
(and yes, it’s posted this way because it’s apparently not one of the wordpress approved video links. also, no article this week, it was a slow one. sorry kids).
This is not a belated Halloween post. This is a post by a girl who just ventured into Macy’s at Christmastime. I’m sorry…I need a minute.
*fans face frantically*
Okay…I’m okay now. Let me set the records straight here. I would never intentionally go to Macy’s at this time of year unless it was seriously crucial. My winter coat is not quite wintery enough for the recent weather so the parentals said if I found a coat it would be my birthday present. Cool. I’ve been cold for a week or so and a coat seems like a good idea.
So I head to Macy’s and actually find one that I like…just not in my size. So I stand in line to ask the cashier (as I’ve been instructed to do) and finally it’s my turn. An extra cashier comes over and asks to take the next in line (a.k.a. this girl). I walk over and start to ask her my question when she immediately cuts me off.
“I don’t–I can’t answer that. You’ll have to ask the cashier”
I’m sorry, I thought you WERE the cashier? Guess it’s back to the line for me. And then…
“I can take the next customer who does not have a question about their coat.“
Wow. That seemed a little harsh. Okay. I’m sorry. I thought it was your job to help people but no, it’s cool don’t worry. I’ll just stand here and ask someone helpful.
Long story short, the coat trip was unsuccessful. But to treat ourselves for not having killed anyone my shopping companion and I hit up Ben&Jerry’s before we left (oh Macy’s, how considerate of you to have an ice cream store inside!). While we’re waiting to order a gaggle of prepubescent girls totally cut in front of us. The direction of the line was clearly indicated by a sign too.
So I uttered a few noises to more fully illustrate my incredulity at the situation. Then the B&J clerk was finally ready and faced the counter. He clearly knew we were there first, but his day was probably slow (it is winter after all) so I think he wanted to see how this would play out.
Clerk: Can I help someone?
Me: Well you’d better help them first, since they are clearly in a hurry.
Girl: No, we’re not.
Me: You must be though, since you pushed right in front of us, but go ahead.
Now just calm down before you call me a bitch. I’ve been shoulder-checked by more ho ho ho’s than I can handle this holiday season. Men in suits have pushed me into the Salvation Army bell ringers. I’ve been yelled at by tourists who stop in front of me then get mad when I run into them. But to be sassed by a 13-year-old? That’s almost more than I can take. And really–where were their mothers?!
So, this city(ish) girl went to the country for Thanksgiving and promised you all that she’d write about it. Well, I finally have time so get ready for my country rundown.
The big part of the Thanksgiving trip was, surprisingly, not the Thanksgiving dinner but the tree-cutting excursion. The family met at the house at 7:30 a.m. (a time I don’t normally see when on vacation) and piled into our vehicles. When we got to the tree farm, they immediately let the Christmas Vacation references fly–bad news for those of us (me) who hadn’t seen the movie yet! Boo’s mom picked her tree out within 10 minutes and we (he) carried it back to where the rest of the family was waiting. With 2 trees left to pick out, we were left to amuse ourselves. Not hard. The farm had a gopher-chasing little dog. We watched him bounce from hole to hole, like a whack-a-mole game. Eventually he dug one of the holes wide enough to crawl into it. All that was left was a barking from somewhere underground.
After all of the trees were acquired (3 in total…and yes, I carried one. I’ve got the big guns baby.) the family went out for a “train-stopping good” breakfast. I’m not making that up. I couldn’t. The slogan on the door, the menus and the coffee mugs bragged about how the food was so good that a conductor actually stopped his train to eat. Well, I could get on board with that…until I saw “mush” on the menu. Really? You would stop a train for mush? Well, that doesn’t seem too appetizing. Actually, that doesn’t even seem like a food product. Curious. Was this city girl brave enough to try the mush? Don’t bet on it.
All in all, the trip was a success. I braved the wilderness (a tree farm), war wounds (scratches from his dogs) and even came away with Mom’s seal of approval. Score one for this city girl ;)
