Last night, I posted this…
…meaning, I had a creepy guy sitting next to me.
Last night, I posted this…
…meaning, I had a creepy guy sitting next to me.
Some days it takes all I have to get out of bed in the morning.
What is it about Chinese fortunes? I know they’re meaningless, but if I get a good one, I believe it.
Some time last year, I got the fortune:
Your secret desire to completely
change your life will manifest.
Yesterday, 7pm, I was riding the train home, stressing about one of my scripts (due to Will Smith today) and how I can make it funnier.
Amanda (founding partner of Super Best Friends Productions) called me and I started stressing more, thinking about all that we have to do on that project.
Then my mom called and asked if I could come over. This is unusual. I said yes but I had to check with Tom.
Yesterday morning I was riding the train, lightly dozing with my head against the window. My hand was resting on my purse in the seat next to me.
I awoke to the sensation of my purse (and, consequently, my hand) being lifted. I opened my eyes just in time to catch my bag as it was dropped, laptop and all, into my lap.
The culprit (or “douche nozzle”, as my husband would later refer to him) then threw his own bag on the overhead rack and sat down next to me without saying anything. I sat for a couple minutes, confused and stunned.
The other day, I was walking to the train at Hunterspoint Ave and I saw this guy running ahead to catch the train.
He was running like Phoebe from Friends, only with a messenger bag.
It made me really happy.
Also, I caught the same train as him, so I don’t know why he was running. Maybe he wanted to make sure he had time for a trank.
This morning I started out by rejoicing in someone else’s misfortune. Not out of pure schadenfreude, only in so much as it benefited my current situation.
In the middle of the day, I *may* have prayed to a god that I don’t personally believe in to cause
harm inconvenience to the same person so I might benefit a little longer.
Sorry to be so vague but when you’re wishing people ill, it’s best to just be cool about it.
In the evening, I decided to take the bus to Penn Station to avoid the horrendous cold. While trying to cut in front of the man next to me (like a true New Yorker), I missed the step and fell on my face. The very man that I had attempted to cut off helped me up. I bet he wins MegaMillions tomorrow.
Then later tonight, I was showering at my mom’s because… you know.
And thinking only negative thoughts because… I don’t know why. The winter? The cold? The short days? The fact that all the holidays are now seriously over?
Anyway, this might not seem like enough of a comeuppance given what I’ve
admitted alluded to, but I realized after I had dressed that I only shaved one leg. A ridiculous thing to get upset about, I know, but I just felt like I was finally getting a normal shower where I wasn’t being rushed out, and I blew my one big opportunity.
I sound a little high strung. Maybe I’m not as Type B as I thought I was.
Sorry to be so cynical on your otherwise happy Thursday. If you’re looking for optimism, stop by on Monday.
Another guest post from Alice, my commiserator in commuting…
While living at home has provided some good stepfather/daughter bonding I think I’m letting the commute slowly kill me. First there are the specifics of the LIRR trains themselves. The new ones aren’t awful but the old ones, which seem to be showing up much more frequently and which Jill has discussed here are the worst.
About a month ago I found myself on one where, and this is just my best guess at what happened though the gentleman sitting next to me concurred at the time, the toilet in the bathroom exploded. I did what any sane person with an olfactory sense would do and rushed to the next car at Jamaica, but of course it was packed. And then the doors wouldn’t close and as the prior post described there is a piercing noise that occurs when they go to shut them.
Another fun fact of this system is that the trains very rarely get you where you need to be when they’re supposed to, regardless of how many times you hear the auto tone voice say “the 7:32 is operating on time.”
Part two of the commuting equation is the people. Now I’ll admit that a few times my faith in humanity has been restored by someone giving me their seat (and no I don’t look pregnant from suburban weight gain) or moved so me and a companion can sit together; but more often they’re pretty much assholes.
There is the guy that shushed Jill and I on a morning train a couple weeks ago. Seriously, like we were in a library, and also like we didn’t know who he was even though he was sitting in front of us. And for the record we were speaking in normal voices about innocuous things.
There are the ones that scream into their cell phones for an hour – I’ve heard all about insurance problems, health issues, bad dates…And of course the ones with no concept of personal space, which is exacerbated when drunk – I’ve been encountering them more and more with the late hours I’ve been at the office. So, I need to figure something out before I become an angry person yelling at innocent young women during rush hour.
…after Alice wrote this, I received the following text from her:
“Gum on arm rest – I hate people”
So that pretty much sums it up.
INT. TRAIN – NIGHT
Commuter train full of tired passengers. There is an ANNOYING GIRL talking loudly and incessantly on her cell phone. We only see the back of her head.
His name’s Josh. He’s really
cute. He kind of looks like
Beat. A passenger across the aisle from the girl rolls his eyes.
No! Not “Lover Boy” Patrick
Dempsey! Well, kind of. He’s
kind of like a combination…
A train announcement interrupts the girl’s conversation. She sighs.
This is an announcement from
the Long Island Railroad. Be
train smart. When using your
Ugh, these announcements are
…please be courteous to
passengers around you.
A passenger behind the girl loudly clears his throat.
Sorry, so anyway. He sort of
looks like a combination of
young Patrick Dempsey and old
The train comes to a stop. A woman in front of the girl stands up and glances with fascination at the annoying girl, before exiting. The annoying girl sees the woman’s gaze and looks around, confused.
Yeah but anyway, I never get
to see him. It’s kind of like
that episode of Sex & The City…
The train takes off again.
…where Miranda and Steve
couldn’t work their schedules
out because she was a lawyer
and he’s a bartender.
The train begins to slow.
This is Huntington. Huntington,
last stop, last stop. All
passengers must exit here.
Yeah! Almost exactly because,
like, I’m an accountant and
he’s a waiter.
Please take a moment to look
around you, and make sure you
have all your personal belongings…
Ugh! Alright, I better go, Peg.
It’s my stop. I love you!!
The girl stands up, puts on her coat, and notices for the first time that most of the train is staring at her. As she turns, reveal: it is our heroine, Jill, slightly younger.
CHYRON – “October, 2007″
This morning, I read about Project Optimism at The Best Life, the idea of which is to post on Mondays about something that makes you optimistic. This is one of my favorite, happiest blogs, but still I said “maybe next week.”
I was not having a great day today. Work was slightly better than terrible. I had to stay late and catch the 6:30 train, but the LIRR was running on delays so I didn’t get home until almost 8.
Husband Tom picked me up at the train station and we went to grab pizza because it’s fast and I wanted to try and get some writing in. As much as I love Little Vincent’s, I couldn’t help but get annoyed that they leave the freaking doors open and freeze their patrons to death, so I have to eat pizza in my down coat. And not like I can bring it home – I’m not allowed to eat in my room!
Then Tom said “Oh, I forgot to bring your computer.” To which I replied, “That’s the most important part!” …I realize that’s not the nicest thing I could have said but I have trouble holding in my emotions most to all of the time.
He pointed out that we were about 5 blocks from home and we could go back, get the computer, and go back out to Starbucks. I decided to give up for the night, wishing I had an office or a desk or just anywhere at Daddy’s house that I could get away and concentrate.
When I got home, I was surprised to find that Tom had spent most of his day working on cleaning up my childhood bedroom / our future den. We had only started looking at the room yesterday.
WARNING: this photo may not be not suitable for those that experience lightheadedness, shortness of breath, OCD, or dust allergies.
I counted 6, no 8, no 10, no 12… twelve guitars and a mandolin. Tom claimed he could get it cleaned up in two weeks, before his semester starts.
Despite my assertion in my wedding vows that “The thing I love most about you is your optimism. Because of you, I believe that together we can do anything.” um… I didn’t believe him. (That doesn’t count as breaking my vows, right?)
Well, today it looked like this:
So, yes. That’s why I like my husband. He gave me optimism on a day when everything else was going wrong.
Jill Pinnella Corso
Hi, I'm Jill. The first thing you should know about me is that I'm obsessed with sitcoms.
The second thing you should know is that my new husband, Tom, and I moved out of our Brooklyn apartment in September, and moved in with my messy, divorced dad ("Daddy"). Thus began my blogging career.
For more about me and my writing click here.