This poem is dedicated to @cmdemichele. It is about the pigeon who lives outside my bedroom window.
Every morning I wake up to your coo, coo, coo
Dearest pigeon, is that all you know how to do?
I'm sure you are also covering my fire escape with poo
I once had a rooster, too
He also woke me up every morning, but not like you
Harriet, if you are not silent, I will be forced to shoot you
No pigeons were harmed in the writing of this poem.
I actually have grown to love Harriet dearly. If you must know why I named her that, it's because I believe that she is spying on me through my window. If you don't get that reference you should probably be reading a different blog.
One day I will post a picture of her, but it's difficult as she hates paparazzi.
Showing posts with label upper east side. Show all posts
Showing posts with label upper east side. Show all posts
Monday, December 19, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
I still hate New Jersey.
I'm coming up on my 6 week anniversary with the city, but part of me still forgets that while I have learned to conquer the Upper East Side (let's be honest, I made this place my bitch) I still don't really know anything about the rest of Manhattan. This became very clear to me last weekend. There's nothing worse than that hollow, neauseating feeling in your gut when you're sitting in a place, knowing that you missed an integral step and now am either going to have to own up to the fact that you are, still, an idiot, or lie. I usually do the latter when I should always go for the first choice.
I offered to baby-sit in Garden City (it's in Long Island, I had to look it up too) and day of I realized that while I had been there once before, I was under the guidance of @Jvanner1 and an abundance of wine, and had no idea how to get there. A lot of my decisions are made before I remember that I can't just walk downstairs and get in my car and continue on with my life. I looked up on HopStop (greatest invention ever) how to get to Garden City at least 17 times before I left my apartment, and still had to interrupt @Jvanner1 at work and ask her to look up the trains to take and where to get off because when it's something important I have the memory of a goldfish. My uncanny ability to read and understand colored signs got me to Penn Station without a hitch. Once again, I put forth my best efforts to translate that Train 13-Nassau Boulevard meant that I look for a sign that says Train 13. Ah, yes. I hate when people aren't properly impressed when I do amazing things. I'm savoring my new self-worth until I start thinking about the last time I was on the train... and we paid for tickets. And a conductor came around and stamped them. I started getting uncomfortably hot as I gauged that I would not have enough time to go wander around Penn Station looking for a place to buy a ticket. And I had made it this far. Maybe this specific train didn't need tickets. Or he would be blind and I could pass off my MetroCard as a train ticket. The train pulled away and I began praying that Nassau Blvd would be the first stop, even though I knew it took 40 minutes. I saw the conductor and pulled my go-to move, fake being asleep. Probably would have been more believable if it weren't 4:30 pm.
"Ticket please m'am."
"Hm?" (Keep headphones in, sleepy eyes.)
"Your train ticket."
"Oh, umm... let's see..." (Thank YOU giant purse)
"I'll just come back."
He put attached a reminder ticket to the seat in front of me which I promptly ripped off and and spent 10 minutes arranging it under my shoe so that it "must have gotten knocked off." Instead of initially admitting that I hadn't bought a ticket and pulling out the "Sir, I am sooooo sawry! I'm not from around here, I just came in from Atlanta. I didn't know I needed a ticket!" Noooo. Faking losing a ticket was the obvious choice. That scene was reinacted about 3 more times while I sweated and prayed everytime he left that we would reach my stop and I could escape a free woman and never ride the LIRR again. Finally I was issued a very formal I.O.U. to be paid to the Long Island Rail Road. Better than train jail I guess.
That Sunday I woke up after witnessing my first sequin blazer (want one), taking a cab home (7 blocks. Has to be some kind of record) to perform the ritual act of first making sure I have my purse and then taking inventory of all my things. (This happens when you have a severe tendency to lose EVERYTHING.) SO far *knock on wood* I've been good about keeping track of my wallet, phone, purse, etc., but this particular night had taken claim of my debit card. Not too big of a deal, I used to lose so many cards that I strictly used temporary cards. I checked my bank account to see if I could track down the name of the bar (I mean restaurant) where I had last used it and noticed something odd. My most recent charge was for 12/4 (that day) at a Chuck E. Cheese in MAYS LANDING, NEW JERSEY. I called the bank to be sure, and it was confirmed that my card had been swiped at 10:18 am at a Chuck E. Cheese in Mays Landing, NJ. I didn't know what was more embarassing, this teller thinking that I woke up on a Sunday morning and went to Chuck E. Cheese or that I was in New Jersey. That is some true second rate parenting right there. Maybe if you werne't out partying on a Saturday night you could afford to take your kid to Chuck E. Cheese with your own money! Also, if you're reading this, I would like all your prizes. They're technically mine.
Sadly, that wasn't the most grotesque human act I encountered that day. A sweet gentleman named Wally (first sign) bought @Jvanner1 and I some very romantic post-bar, pre-cab pizza. I feel like I have lowered my dating standards here due to the fact that I really don't know anyone, but even I have to draw the line somewhere, especially after receiving this text:
Liz: Do you have a job?
Wally: Yes i work in a deli i make food 4 peapol lol in brokleen what kind of work do u do from home
I couldn't even respond for fear that he would cut himself after the scathing review of his complete and utter disregard for the English language. "Brokleen," you've got yourself a winner. I would appreciate it if you didn't let him loose on my island.
17 more days until my birthday! What have you gotten me? And the cutest little tree in the whole city!
Much love!
I offered to baby-sit in Garden City (it's in Long Island, I had to look it up too) and day of I realized that while I had been there once before, I was under the guidance of @Jvanner1 and an abundance of wine, and had no idea how to get there. A lot of my decisions are made before I remember that I can't just walk downstairs and get in my car and continue on with my life. I looked up on HopStop (greatest invention ever) how to get to Garden City at least 17 times before I left my apartment, and still had to interrupt @Jvanner1 at work and ask her to look up the trains to take and where to get off because when it's something important I have the memory of a goldfish. My uncanny ability to read and understand colored signs got me to Penn Station without a hitch. Once again, I put forth my best efforts to translate that Train 13-Nassau Boulevard meant that I look for a sign that says Train 13. Ah, yes. I hate when people aren't properly impressed when I do amazing things. I'm savoring my new self-worth until I start thinking about the last time I was on the train... and we paid for tickets. And a conductor came around and stamped them. I started getting uncomfortably hot as I gauged that I would not have enough time to go wander around Penn Station looking for a place to buy a ticket. And I had made it this far. Maybe this specific train didn't need tickets. Or he would be blind and I could pass off my MetroCard as a train ticket. The train pulled away and I began praying that Nassau Blvd would be the first stop, even though I knew it took 40 minutes. I saw the conductor and pulled my go-to move, fake being asleep. Probably would have been more believable if it weren't 4:30 pm.
"Ticket please m'am."
"Hm?" (Keep headphones in, sleepy eyes.)
"Your train ticket."
"Oh, umm... let's see..." (Thank YOU giant purse)
"I'll just come back."
He put attached a reminder ticket to the seat in front of me which I promptly ripped off and and spent 10 minutes arranging it under my shoe so that it "must have gotten knocked off." Instead of initially admitting that I hadn't bought a ticket and pulling out the "Sir, I am sooooo sawry! I'm not from around here, I just came in from Atlanta. I didn't know I needed a ticket!" Noooo. Faking losing a ticket was the obvious choice. That scene was reinacted about 3 more times while I sweated and prayed everytime he left that we would reach my stop and I could escape a free woman and never ride the LIRR again. Finally I was issued a very formal I.O.U. to be paid to the Long Island Rail Road. Better than train jail I guess.
That Sunday I woke up after witnessing my first sequin blazer (want one), taking a cab home (7 blocks. Has to be some kind of record) to perform the ritual act of first making sure I have my purse and then taking inventory of all my things. (This happens when you have a severe tendency to lose EVERYTHING.) SO far *knock on wood* I've been good about keeping track of my wallet, phone, purse, etc., but this particular night had taken claim of my debit card. Not too big of a deal, I used to lose so many cards that I strictly used temporary cards. I checked my bank account to see if I could track down the name of the bar (I mean restaurant) where I had last used it and noticed something odd. My most recent charge was for 12/4 (that day) at a Chuck E. Cheese in MAYS LANDING, NEW JERSEY. I called the bank to be sure, and it was confirmed that my card had been swiped at 10:18 am at a Chuck E. Cheese in Mays Landing, NJ. I didn't know what was more embarassing, this teller thinking that I woke up on a Sunday morning and went to Chuck E. Cheese or that I was in New Jersey. That is some true second rate parenting right there. Maybe if you werne't out partying on a Saturday night you could afford to take your kid to Chuck E. Cheese with your own money! Also, if you're reading this, I would like all your prizes. They're technically mine.
Sadly, that wasn't the most grotesque human act I encountered that day. A sweet gentleman named Wally (first sign) bought @Jvanner1 and I some very romantic post-bar, pre-cab pizza. I feel like I have lowered my dating standards here due to the fact that I really don't know anyone, but even I have to draw the line somewhere, especially after receiving this text:
Liz: Do you have a job?
Wally: Yes i work in a deli i make food 4 peapol lol in brokleen what kind of work do u do from home
I couldn't even respond for fear that he would cut himself after the scathing review of his complete and utter disregard for the English language. "Brokleen," you've got yourself a winner. I would appreciate it if you didn't let him loose on my island.
17 more days until my birthday! What have you gotten me? And the cutest little tree in the whole city!
Monday, November 14, 2011
I need to manage my time better...
It seems like everyday I think about things to write about and things happen that I should write about and then I watch Gossip Girl and then it's dark. And I don't get much accomplished once it gets dark. And now that it gets dark at 4:30 that does not leave very much time for me to be proactive. About anything.
Life updates: New York is the shit. I have officially been here for 2 weeks now. (As soon as I figure out how to upload pictures I will. That's on my to-do list for tomorrow. You see how this works.) **Updated: I created a Flickr account (go me!) and now have a slideshow in the upper left corner as you can see** I am trying to grasp my bearings as best as possible. I now know that if I take a left out of my apartment, I end up at the East River (this is where I would insert pictures of the river. Use your imagination. Or Google images or something.)
This has become my favorite place to run. (Note: I will often talk about running like it's something I do everyday. If I say I do it everyday, it really means about 3x a week. And when I say running I actually mean walking really fast.) I tried to go to a Bikram yoga place here but both times I almost fainted. Apparently "Atlanta Hot Yoga" is NOT the same as Bikram. It is literally like doing yoga in the inner circle of Hell. I spent the first 45 minutes working on not passing out and the next 45 minutes remembering why I was trying to kill myself.
I've been watching a lot of Gossip Girl since I've been here so now I wear a lot of headbands and talk about revenge and frienemies. It's hard to have frienemies when you don't have that many friends, so I may be doing this out of order, but I'm working on it. Currently, that's probably the biggest change. I went from having extremely too much to do every day/night/weekend that I relished the one night I gave myself a week to not do anything. Now I moved to a city actually knowing about 4 people, and I'm working from home, which gives me a LOT of me-time. This has given me a lot of time to attempt to learn the subway (accidentally ended up in Harlem the other day. That's a mistake you only make once) and work on my new domestic responsibilities as a stay-at-home roommate. Packing up my shit and moving on a whim came with a newfound belief that I am a gourmet chef, so I keep buying things that I have never cooked before in an attempt to make beautiful dinners for my significant other, which in this case is my roommate. Scallops night I only set the smoke alarm off 3 times, and my white wine shallot cream sauce was really more of a dip if anything.. but it's a start.
The first Sunday I had was the NYC marathon which @Jvanner1 and I could see from our roof (again, insert a picture. I am so computer illiterate.)
We did meet some roof neighbors who planned ahead with bagels and bloody mary's (instant friendship). We found a bar that afternoon to watch the Falcons game (one of the few teams I will put true effort into actually caring about watching). We did meet some people during the game, so I Sunday turned out to be a fruitful day for friendship as I upped my numbers from 4 to 9. One thing I have noticed in New York is that guys will stare. A lot. And very aggressively. It seems the whole "flirty, play hard to get" idea is more of a southern thing. I have also gotten some very interesting pick-up lines in my new city:
Man in the street: Hey girl, did you just come from the beach?
Me: Um, excuse me?
Man in the street: Your face is all red, have you been fishing?
Me: I'm from Atlanta... maybe we're just tanner there?
Man in the street: Yeah girl. I like your legs. You look healthy.
Where I'm from "healthy" means fat so I don't believe that warranted a respone. @cmdemichele reassured me "that's just because NY girls don't eat and smoke cigs and drink coffee." Still.
This past weekend I tapped into my resources* and got tickets to the Eagles/Cardinals game, because I am the best stay at home roommate in the world (@Jvanner1 loves football. Or exerts entirely too much energy pretending to love it. Maybe that's why she's so sleepy when she gets home.) Albeit the only things I knew about Philadelphia were derived from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and that they created cheesesteaks, which I had never eaten. And that they make cream cheese, or maybe invented it. And that Fresh Prince was from there. We found a bus that takes you from Manhattan to Philly, for $13, and I called Lil Cuz to see if we could stay with him. I had a prior warning that he "lives in the ghetto." We got to Philadelphia and I quickly realized that that didn't mean anything, because ALL of Philadelphia is the ghetto. He lives in West Philly, so naturally it was close to impossible for any words that weren't the Fresh Prince theme song to escape my lips the whole time we were there. My first cheesesteak experience was mildly disastrous. This was to commence surviving a Saturday night out in Philly, and in prime fashion majority of the $10 sandwich (is it a sandwich really? I feel like it's so much more) ended up all over me, all over the street, and most of the paper was ingested. It was that thin deli paper so I'm not too worried about it. I don't have much to comment on about the game because that's not what this blog is about and never will be, however Eagles fans are nuts. And not very attractive. (Sorry if you live in Philadelphia and/or are an Eagles fan. I hope you can prove me wrong.)
But one man (that man. Don't all jump at once ladies) took a picture of @Jvanner1 and me because we were pretty, so that was mildly horrific. And I had another cheesesteak. Still delicious.
*(My resources belonged to someone who would "have sex with me based solely on my tweets if he were single." So, follow me: @lizsassypants. And thank you @ReliableBrett, still one of the nicest compliments I have received. And for the tickets.)
Best regards,
Life updates: New York is the shit. I have officially been here for 2 weeks now. (As soon as I figure out how to upload pictures I will. That's on my to-do list for tomorrow. You see how this works.) **Updated: I created a Flickr account (go me!) and now have a slideshow in the upper left corner as you can see** I am trying to grasp my bearings as best as possible. I now know that if I take a left out of my apartment, I end up at the East River (this is where I would insert pictures of the river. Use your imagination. Or Google images or something.)
I've been watching a lot of Gossip Girl since I've been here so now I wear a lot of headbands and talk about revenge and frienemies. It's hard to have frienemies when you don't have that many friends, so I may be doing this out of order, but I'm working on it. Currently, that's probably the biggest change. I went from having extremely too much to do every day/night/weekend that I relished the one night I gave myself a week to not do anything. Now I moved to a city actually knowing about 4 people, and I'm working from home, which gives me a LOT of me-time. This has given me a lot of time to attempt to learn the subway (accidentally ended up in Harlem the other day. That's a mistake you only make once) and work on my new domestic responsibilities as a stay-at-home roommate. Packing up my shit and moving on a whim came with a newfound belief that I am a gourmet chef, so I keep buying things that I have never cooked before in an attempt to make beautiful dinners for my significant other, which in this case is my roommate. Scallops night I only set the smoke alarm off 3 times, and my white wine shallot cream sauce was really more of a dip if anything.. but it's a start.
The first Sunday I had was the NYC marathon which @Jvanner1 and I could see from our roof (again, insert a picture. I am so computer illiterate.)
We did meet some roof neighbors who planned ahead with bagels and bloody mary's (instant friendship). We found a bar that afternoon to watch the Falcons game (one of the few teams I will put true effort into actually caring about watching). We did meet some people during the game, so I Sunday turned out to be a fruitful day for friendship as I upped my numbers from 4 to 9. One thing I have noticed in New York is that guys will stare. A lot. And very aggressively. It seems the whole "flirty, play hard to get" idea is more of a southern thing. I have also gotten some very interesting pick-up lines in my new city:
Man in the street: Hey girl, did you just come from the beach?
Me: Um, excuse me?
Man in the street: Your face is all red, have you been fishing?
Me: I'm from Atlanta... maybe we're just tanner there?
Man in the street: Yeah girl. I like your legs. You look healthy.
Where I'm from "healthy" means fat so I don't believe that warranted a respone. @cmdemichele reassured me "that's just because NY girls don't eat and smoke cigs and drink coffee." Still.
This past weekend I tapped into my resources* and got tickets to the Eagles/Cardinals game, because I am the best stay at home roommate in the world (@Jvanner1 loves football. Or exerts entirely too much energy pretending to love it. Maybe that's why she's so sleepy when she gets home.) Albeit the only things I knew about Philadelphia were derived from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and that they created cheesesteaks, which I had never eaten. And that they make cream cheese, or maybe invented it. And that Fresh Prince was from there. We found a bus that takes you from Manhattan to Philly, for $13, and I called Lil Cuz to see if we could stay with him. I had a prior warning that he "lives in the ghetto." We got to Philadelphia and I quickly realized that that didn't mean anything, because ALL of Philadelphia is the ghetto. He lives in West Philly, so naturally it was close to impossible for any words that weren't the Fresh Prince theme song to escape my lips the whole time we were there. My first cheesesteak experience was mildly disastrous. This was to commence surviving a Saturday night out in Philly, and in prime fashion majority of the $10 sandwich (is it a sandwich really? I feel like it's so much more) ended up all over me, all over the street, and most of the paper was ingested. It was that thin deli paper so I'm not too worried about it. I don't have much to comment on about the game because that's not what this blog is about and never will be, however Eagles fans are nuts. And not very attractive. (Sorry if you live in Philadelphia and/or are an Eagles fan. I hope you can prove me wrong.)
*(My resources belonged to someone who would "have sex with me based solely on my tweets if he were single." So, follow me: @lizsassypants. And thank you @ReliableBrett, still one of the nicest compliments I have received. And for the tickets.)
Best regards,
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