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…

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So…wanna talk about the weather?

I almost hate to even bring it up because there are already so many people freaking out (see also: my lack of mentioning a certain earthquake), but apparently we’re supposed to have a hurricane this weekend.

My real question is: Am I being super naive by not freaking out? Because I’m just not. And as far as I can tell, no one around me is freaking out either. (By “around,” I mean the people literally in my vicinity and whom I talk to. I know there are people in New York as a whole who are frantic.)

I mean, no one is boarding up windows or piling up their cars to get out of town. The most anyone has done is stock up on groceries and bottled water. (Which we did…but more just to feel involved.)

Part of the problem could be that I don’t watch TV. Any news I get is from online sources, and until NYTimes.com has a giant “GET OUT OF DODGE, KIDDIES!” headline on the homepage, I’m probably going to continue business as usual.

***Edit: Ohhhh, Irony. Turns out the homepage of NYTimes.com is quite similar to that this morning (which I checked about an hour after writing this post…). But for realz, still not sure if I should be fleeing??

Yesterday, my cousin texted me and asked if we were evacuating. I was literally sitting at my desk at work eating my second breakfast. My first thought: “Umm…would that be a good idea?”

I guess I put a lot of faith in the fact that if my life was in danger, more people around me would let me know. That either makes me incredibly self-centered or incredibly useless. Maybe both.

But seriously. As I type this, I’m sitting on the train with the same people I commute with every day. Unless everyone plans on sprinting from the East Coast the second they get out of work today, I feel like I’m not the only one carrying on like this is any other weekend. Albeit one where we will get a lot of rain. But that’s not exactly newsworthy this summer.

I guess what I’m saying is, if I’m missing something, could someone let le know? Because otherwise I just plan on spending the weekend hunkered down with the hubster fixing up the apartment and saying thing like, “Yup, still rainin’.”

Tourist for a day

Eh heh…hey, guys. I swear that decor post is on it’s way. I’m just waiting until we get a couple more things hung up. Maybe THIS Thursday. Sowwy.

But this isn’t an apology post. (It’s just a post WITH an apology.) The real purpose is to share my weekend.

My two cousins visited from Ohio. Naturally, I wanted to plan as many things to do that they can’t do in Ohio as possible.

It’s fun being a tourist in your own area now and then. We spent all day Friday in the city. Shopping in SoHo, a trip to Central Park, a stroll through Times Square, and a Thai dinner in Union Square were all on the docket for the day.

{Central Park}

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Saturday was beach day. (Midwesterners have this cute habit of calling the shores of lakes “beaches.” Sillies.) After some sun and actual ocean, we headed home to clean up and then went to a party at our friends’ house.

Good times were had by all, and I got to re-experience some of my favorite parts of the city (they’re all in Central Park, though the Thai place is one of my favorite restaurants). They kept calling me out for how many times I would say, “Oh, I love this place!”

{Times Square}

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Well, I do love it. And when I’m caught up in the bustle of wake-up-get-to-work-go-home, I forget to spend enough time around my favorite places.

{Bethesda Fountain – My ACTUAL Favorite Place}

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So thank you, my lovely cousins, for letting me play tourist for a while. You were perfect guests, and we can’t wait to have you back again!

{Cousins/Photographers}

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The nesting continues

Hooooo-boy! Can I just tell you how psyched I am about the changes the hubster and I have been making to our apartment?

I mean, it’s not like we’re ripping out teeny, tiny, practically useless cabinets (bitter much?) or painting our bland white walls (yup, bitter much), but ya’ll know me, so you know I’m going to find whatever way I can to put a personal touch on our little blank palette.

I posted a few pics on my Twitter (Whaaaat? You don’t follow me? Then how will you bask in my brilliance ’round the clock? Tell me, how?? Right this wrong here.), but I’m saving the Big Picture Post for when the place is perfect. Or at least until we get to a point where Joey starts giving me the “really? Another picture frame?” look. (It’s only a matter of time.)

SPEAKING OF PICTURE FRAMES.

Does anyone else get a little gun-shy when it comes to hanging things on the walls? I mean, I made our wedding guest book a poster so we could hang it in our home one day. I’ve had a box of about 12 frames from Target sitting in my living room for over a week. I WANT TO HANG THINGS. But there’s something about actually driving a nail into that virgin white wall that gives me agita.

Well, two nights ago I sucked it up and deflowered the wall. (Yup.) (I’m SO sorry…) I was home alone with only a bag of frozen pasta for dinner, a Jersey Shore episode I needed to catch up on, 12 frames, a hammer, and about 100 nails. There was really only one direction this could go.

The first nail is the hardest. (Yeesh, will this metaphor die?) After that, I just kept telling myself, There’s no going back. Now FINISH it! I actually hung about three pictures before realizing it was 9:45 on a Monday night and I should probably not be hammering walls in my tiny apartment complex.

Last night I finished the job in the living room. We now have a lovely little picture frame collage over the couch (though I think it could use some filling out on the sides…more on that later) and we FINALLY hung the guest book in the hallway. It all looks pretty dern adorable, but I’m probably a little partial. But if I can’t be partial on my own blog, what is this country coming to?

The plan for the rest of the week (and by that, I mean “Thursday night.” Because then our company arrives. Ohhh procrastination…) is to FINALLY get the server we bought for our dining room (we were supposed to get it Monday. Alas, it had apparently been dropped off the truck multiple times and was in such bad condition they wouldn’t give it to us…). With the new piece acquired, I will be able to organize the dining room once and for all.

In terms of decor, I purchased four large posters of vintage advertisements in various shades of blue and green. Two of them are for the dining room, two for the kitchen. I sort of made a mistake when I ordered them and got 24×36-inch posters, not realizing how freaking giant that is until we went to procure frames to fit them. But now that I think about it, I’m kind of excited to see the oversize prints on the wall. Happy accident.

Once the dining room is straightened up, I should technically focus on getting the bedroom in perfect condition, but let’s face it. No one sees the bedroom except Joey and me. So if it doesn’t happen this week, I will gladly turn a blind eye (and keep the door closed).

Keep an eye out Thursday night for some major pictorial evidence of how lovely our apartment is.

The Nest

Remember when I first got married and was OBSESSED with putting together our apartment?

Welp, the nesting bug is back and in full force.

I’m not entirely sure what brought it on, but I have a feeling my new love affair with home improvement blogs isn’t helping.

I swear, I could lose myself in those things for hours. People are just so darn crafty! It makes me wish I had taken wood shop class so I could finale a jigsaw, or at the very least pursued home ec for another semester in middle school (never learned how to use a sewing machine…it is one of my top five biggest regrets).

But what I really, REALLY wish? That I could just paint my apartment.

Do you have any idea the kind of transformation you can bring about with just a couple coats of paint?? According to the dozens of “before and after” posts I’ve been inhaling, you will basically end up with a brand new room.

My wish list for our next apartment now looks like this:

1. Washer and dryer
2. Dishwasher
3. Allows dogs
4. Allows painting
5. Disposal in the kitchen sink
6. Bookshelves

For now, I’m contesting myself with finally getting the last two pieces of furniture I wanted and finally hanging some pictures and things on the walls.

Part of my motivation is that we’re having company the next two weekends (cousins the first, a friend from Nebraska the second), and you know how I get with wanting to impress people.

So I guess I’ll temper the obsession with blogs and surface changes until we get a place we can actually leave a mark on. Anyone have a blog to recommend? (Don’t say Apartment Therapy. Obviously I know that one.)

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.

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?

THE END.

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

SHOULD.

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.