Rush rush rush

GORSH, who else is tired of hearing bloggers apologize for irregular posting? I mean, unless you are getting PAID to do this (in which case, come on. I hate you enough without you leaving me hanging for five days), then let’s just accept it’s a hobby and move on.

That being said, no more apology posts. EVER. Sorry I’m NOT sorry.

Moving. On.

The biggest difference between taking the LIRR and driving to work (besides EVERYTHING) is that I have to pay attention during my commute.

I’ll clarify.

On the train, you are literally doing everything you can NOT to be aware of your surroundings. Sure, a 700-pound gentleman is practically sweating on you as he drinks beer out of a paper bag, but YOUAREPLAYINGANGRYBIRDSANDLOOKINGOUTTHEWINDOWANDNOTNOTICINGHIMLALALALA…

In the car, if you do that you are dead.

Obviously, the car comes with eight million other positives that outweigh the “oh darn, I have to notice what’s going on around me” negative. But it’s funny how now I have to make an active point of checking Facebook. Or, you know, blogging.

Anyway, the point is that I’ve been trying to think of ways to make my commute more productive. My friend Dana uses her commute to learn Spanish, so right now “learn new language” is at the top of my list. Is there anything else? How do you spend your rush hour time?


Ranting against the storm

Ok, yet again, I hate to even gratify that “tropical storm” with a post after all the trouble it has caused, but I’m just going to get this out of my system and then we’ll never talk about it again.

First of all, I get it. I get why we freak out and give people the worst case scenario and then freak out some more. It’s supposed to be in the interest of the people. We freak so they are warned and perform the corresponding defensive action.

But if I can “get real” with you all, I think we can all agree that even though “warning the masses” is a helpful side effect of the excessive news coverage and widespread exaggeration of the elements, that is not why it happens.

Ratings. Increased viewers. In short, money. Sorry to get all jaded on you, but the reason you’re watching a montage of the destruction of past New York hurricanes is not because they want you to learn. It’s because people will watch images of destruction. And you watching equals more money for them. Plain and simple.

Ok, now that I have gotten that out of the way, let me preface the next tier of my argument with, I know that some people were severely affected, even in New York. A few people died. (Though I have to call shenanigans on blaming the person who died of a heart attack on the hurricane. Unless he died because the wind startled him so dern much, I think that probably had more to do with his lifestyle.) I also understand that it’s stupid to complain that not enough bad things happened.

But seriously? A few people lost power. A couple of trees lost big branches. The basement of our apartment building flooded a little. But that’s really about it for the oh-so-doomed Long Island. Heck, my train was running when I woke up this morning. (Emphasis on the was…more on that later.) Do you know how easy it is to get a LIRR train at the very least delayed? And this storm (because I will not signify it with the word “hurricane”) couldn’t even accomplish that.

Which brings me to the final tier of my argument. I was going to go all middle school and whine about just how useless a weekend storm is. It’s like a blizzard on Friday night. They’re going to clear the streets in time for school on Monday, but it’s still going to cancel Kimberly’s sleepover on Saturday that you’ve been really looking forward to, mom!!

When I woke up this morning, about six train lines were clear and running. The rest were not. Guess which category my train line was?

But that’s not even the worst part.

So I did the right thing: I dragged myself from bed. I got ready. I slugged some coffee. And I got on my train, which was actually exactly on time.

We went one stop.

Let me repeat, I rode the train for ONE STOP before we were “delayed indefinitely” due to signal troubles at the next station.

One. Uno. Une. Less than two yet slightly more than zero.

I may have done enough heavy breathing and “are you kidding me” eyes to be considered excessive.

Which brings me to the present. The part where I’m standing at Massapequa station (in the sunshine) waiting for my husband to come rescue me.

I shouldn’t be complaining — I get to stay home, right? And if it hadn’t happened in the most inconvenient, roundabout way, I wouldn’t be complaining.

But the fact is, it’s still beyond irritating. And as much as I can rationalize why I shouldn’t be that irritated, I am. And it’s my blog, so I can rant if I want to.

Whine, whine, whine.

Ok, I’m officially done. Now of you’ll excuse me, I’ll be working from home for the rest of the day. Enjoy the gorgeous weather…grumble grumble…

The Right Way to Hit on Someone: Part Two

GAAAAS-PUH! Two posts in one day? Blasphemy. But come on, admit it, you needed something to wash the surgary taste out of your mouth after the last two.

Remember that time I was hit on in a way that was so gracefully executed, my dear friend Erin wanted to “give” me to the man as a reward for his skills? (I know Erin does.)

Well, ladies and gentlemen, it looks like this is going to become a bi-annual thing for me, because it happened again. (Sans Erin. Sorry.)

I was walking down the street when I realized I was going the wrong way, so I turned around, only to almost step on this guy who had been about to tap me on the shoulder.

“Hi!” he said enthusiastically.

I was so caught off guard by the genuine niceness in his tone that I actually said a friendly “hello!” back (instead of my usual “pretending I don’t speak English or am possibly hearing impaired” reaction to unwanted advances).

He stuck out his hand to shake mine. “I saw you walk by, and I just wanted to tell you that you are absolutely stunning. I’m Paolo.”

“Oh…thank you…nice to meet you!” I said, shaking his hand. It wasn’t so much the words he said as the way he said them. He was trying to seem confident but actually nervous in the most endearing way imaginable, and so genuinely friendly. I think that was it. He was completely and totally genuine.

It was at this moment that he happened to glance down at my left hand resting on the strap of my bag.

“Aaand I see you have that giant rock there,” he said, laughing in a “awww shucks…please don’t mock me” kind of way. (Mock you??I’m racking my brains for someone to set you up with right now, dude!)

“Yeah…” I said as kindly as I could. “But thanks for the compliment!”

“Sure,” he said, laughing again. “Take care!”

And scene.

Now, obviously this could have gone seriously wrong at many turns. Randomly going up to a stranger to profess your admiration is the boldest of moves. You gotta give a guy credit for working up the gumption to attempt it.

Poor Paolo. Poor sweet, genuine, lovely Paolo. I wish him the best. But with moves like that, I have a feeling he’ll be just fine.

Kindling the flames

So my lovely, wonderful, darling of a husband bought me a Kindle!


Now, as you probably assume, I was originally against the very idea of e-readers. I still have a nostalgic, emotional attachment to books, and I will always like having them around. However, I’m still hip! I pick up the jive you lay down, Amazon! So I’ve decided to embrace the future in all its technological, environmentally conscious goodness. (Plus, lately I’ve found myself envying people with them on the train. So compact! So easy to read with the one hand that isn’t holding onto a pole!)

I downloaded my first book last night, and I plan on stocking up a bit tonight before my trip. So far, I like it. It takes a bit of getting used to, and I find myself trying to “turn” the “pages” a bit too soon out of excitement (though, that could be the book I’m reading), but all in all, it’s pretty neat.

Plus, I’m a fast reader. I go through books like some people go through underwear. It’s expensive buying all those actual books, but I kind of hate having to return library books. And by the time I get to the book store or library, I almost never remember what book it was I wanted to buy.

Um, he-llo instand gratification!

So if anyone would like to buy me a present in the next few….lifetime, Amazon gift cards will be gratefully accepted. Also, this.

Because I might be embracing a new era, but I’m still me, after all.

Card Stop

Ok, I’ve never claimed to be the most patient person alive, but sometimes I feel like the universe is trying to make me throw myself in front of the next subway train.

You know how I like to educate you on the etiquettes of public transportation? (Hey, otherwise I’m just sitting around being polite with all this useless knowledge in my head.) Welp, it has come to my attention that the masses are greatly lacking in social graces when it comes to purchasing a simple thing: a Metrocard. (See also: LIRR tickets)

The Metrocard is your subway ticket. It can be refilled or replaced at various machines resembling ATMs that can be found at almost any subway entrance.

To procure a Metrocard, you have to complete the following steps:

1. Hit “Start”
2. Select your language.
3. Do you want to refill your Metrocard, buy a new Metrocard, or buy a single ride (self-explanatory, but it’s one trip).
4. Assuming you are not buying a single ride, you must then decide how much money is going on your Metrocard.
5. Are you paying with cash, credit card, or ATM card?
6. Pay.
7. It tells you that you are going to be charged. You agree or cancel.
8. Accept your Metrocard.
9. Do you want a receipt?


You literally have to hit seven buttons. The whole process should take less than a minute.


Yesterday morning (which you already know did not start well), I experience two kinds of people that gum up the works for everyone trying to purchase a Metrocard.

Person One: The guy who cannot get his card to work.
On one hand, I appreciate you using a credit or debit card. It’s much quicker than cash, and many machines don’t even accept bills. The problem arises when the maching just will not recognize your card. I say you get eight tries to make it work. Eight. If the machine still doesn’t recognize your card on the eighth try, you get out of line and try again after you’ve waited. Because the person behind you has a card that will work. And they will not appreciate watching two trains go by while they are waiting for you to come to the realization that it’s just not happening.

Person Two: The guy who is literally buying eight cards.
Nope. You are not special. You do not own the machine just because it is your turn in line. You get a normal amount of time to buy each card. Which means you can buy, at MAX two cards each turn. Then you get back in line. Because this is not your personal card machinem, and I GOT in this line because only one person was ahead of me, NOT TEN. If you want to buy TEN cards, come back when it’s NOT rush hour and buy as many cards as you WANT.

Phew. Glad to get that out.

I think it all comes down to remembering that you are not the only person in the universe. Other people want to get to work, too. So remember that. Please.

Or one day, it’s going to get ugly.

Morning Glory

Oh. My. God.

I just overslept TWO HOURS. Let that sink in. Two. Hours. I could have watched four sitcoms. Attended a hockey game. Or, you know, gotten to work on time with coffee and breakfast.

This are bad, folks.

For some reason, my alarm didn’t go off (even though I’ve triple-checked it, and there is no reason why not), and Joey never turned his phone on last night, thereby erasing my backup alarm, which only gets me up ten minutes before I have to leave, but it works in a pinch.

My first thought upon waking up naturally was, “Hmm…seems a might bit sunny for 5:30 in the morning…?”

It was too sunny. Because it was 7:51.

I guess, on one hand, my body must have needed the rest. But on the other, holy heck, who put you in charge, body?? There’s a reason why my consciousness runs the show. It’s because you obviously can’t be trusted to make the responsible decisions. The decisions that keep us in house and home!!

So anyway. I’m on the train now, but I’ll still be an hour late. And I look like…not good because I literally threw on a dress, stuck in my contacts and fled out the door to catch said train.

Sounds like a great start to a day, right?

Meh. How much would I have to pay someone to bring me a latte and a smoothie and have it waiting at my desk? Hmm?

On the road again

I think everyone knows a couple who would be really good on The Amazing Race. For me, it’s Brett and Heather.

We always say that Brett is good at everything a husband is “supposed” to be good at, and Heather at everything a wife should know how to do. Between the two of them, I’m pretty sure they could tackle any challenge and navigate even the remotest area. Second place would go to Bill and Megan, because the two of them love travel, but I’m pretty sure they would drag their feet a little to try to experience each place more.

I have no idea how we would do. I’ve never really considered myself cut out for that show. I don’t like to be rushed, for one, and I too would like to actually be able to enjoy the city and country I’m in. Joey would probably fare better at physical challenges, but I think we would both get exhausted. On the other hand, we’re pretty good at getting along while we’re traveling and even when there’s nothing to do, so maybe we would be too boring for reality TV.

I guess I’m thinking about this because Joey and I are taking our first road trip this weekend. And not just any road trip; a 9-hour car ride to see my family.

I think we’ll be just fine. I like road trips, and like I said, we have a good time even when we’re not doing anything. These are useful skills in a road trip situation.

Hopefully I’ll get some good quotes on the open road to share with y’all. Happy trails!