Daddyism #7

April Fool’s! I forgot to do a Daddyism on the first. It’s my blog so I say I can do it late:

“I don’t need ambience.”

Tom, Daddy and I wait for our food at the Mediterranean Snack Bar.

Daddy: I’m going to tell them to bring out all the food at once. I don’t need a big production, you know? It’s like, I go to these places that want to make dinner a big event. I don’t need ambience. I don’t need formality. I’m here to eat. I just want to eat my food and go home.

Project Optimism: So, I Lost My Phone

funny-lost-phone-silent-modeFriday after improv, a couple of us went out to karaoke. Since two hours is never enough karaoke, I missed the 1:40 train. So, I was forced to hang out and drink until 4am. Tough times.

Flash forward: I wake up at 5:21 am in Huntington. The train is sitting in the station, empty. Any true Long Islander can tell you what that’s like, and also what happens next: you hear the “Beep Beep Beep” of death, the doors close and you have to frantically fly around the train trying to find a conductor to let you off before you end up at the yard.

This knowledge in mind, I jumped up and fled the train. This was when I lost my phone.

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The Universe Speaks Through Fortune Cookies

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.

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Bad Days Don’t Always Start In The Morning

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.

bad day 1

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Coming Out Irish

Over a year ago, my mom’s friend Aunt Kath did an ancestry search on our family and found out something shocking: we’re Irish.

me with red hair. maybe I should’ve guessed.

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Why Is Confrontation So Hard?

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.

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Moves Like Phoebe

Sunday bonus post!

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.

“That’s not running! This is running! Let’s gooo!”

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.

Happy Sunday! :)

Karma’s A Spiteful Bitch

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.

I tried to get a photo but my leg hair isn't dark enough. I googled "one hairy leg" and the results were scary. Let me guess: you're gonna google that now?

I tried to get a photo but my leg hair isn’t dark enough. Trust me, don’t google “one hairy leg”. Ok fine, but I warned you.

Alice On The Edge

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.

B&T crowd, for sure

B&T crowd, for sure

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.

No Walking

I’m a city girl, ok? Yes, I know that I’ve spent more than half my life in Long Island, but the years I spent in the city were transformative.

no walking thumbnail picture facebook grab this one please

just out in my walking skirt, apparently

Anyway, I’m a city girl and city girls walk places. I mean, we also have the subway and taxis and the ferry and zip cars, but, for the most part, if it’s under a mile and not separated by a body of water, I’m walking. Sometimes even if it’s 2 or 3 miles and I’m not in a rush. Occasionally 5 or 6 miles if I feel like taking a long walk home to Brooklyn.

Even New Yorkers that aren’t big into walking do it more than they think. Here are the basic NYC Walking Rules, as I’ve been able to determine them:

1. Walking 10 or 20 blocks is no big deal. (Equivalent to walking 1 or 2 blocks anywhere else.)

2. If it’s only 1 subway stop, we’re walking.

3. If it’s two avenues, F that. Cab it.

avenues vs blocks

It doesn’t even matter that 10 blocks is farther than 2 avenues.
Avenues are the worst.

4. (Personal rule) If I’m wearing heels, you’d better let me take a cab or I will ruin everyone’s night.

Anyway, the real reason I’m gaining weight is not because I’m married, as Daddy so politely suggested. It’s because I don’t walk as much now that I’m in the suburbs.

As such, I’ve tried turning Huntington into my own little metropolitan center, to the confusion of some most.

For example, I like to go to the library or Starbucks after work sometimes and walk home, at 11pm latest. Daddy doesn’t think I should be walking home so late at night. (Did I not used to live on my own in a slightly shady part of Brooklyn? Just checking.)

And last week, when I actually went out in Huntington for my friends’ birthdays, everyone thought it was weird that I wanted to walk home, even though it was about 3.5 blocks. However, it was 4am, and that cab ride I ended up bumming from Adri was pretty sweet. Hey! We have cabs in Huntington! See? It’s metropolitan after all. Oh wait, but you can’t hail them, so it doesn’t count.

Anyway, I don’t think I’ll be transforming Huntington into a walking culture any time soon. And, let’s be honest, if NYC had ample parking, walking would cease and the median BMI would go up to Philadelphia levels. (No offense, Philly. If I’d said “Houston levels”, you’d know I was exaggerating.)