Holla Back Girl

Getting catcalled is not a matter of attractiveness, it’s a numbers game. Especially in a city of 8 million, the average woman is bound to get “hollared” at sooner or later.

It becomes then a matter of points for creativity rather than existence or frequency.

I haven’t been the recipient of many catcalls since my tenure at the world’s capital began, but two of my all time favorites included:

“Hey, girl can I send you a text message?”

and

“Hey Cracker! (yelled at someone across the street as I walked in front of them) …oooh, not you- sorry about that!”

This morning however I got the old school traditional woo-woo whistle from the construction workers next to my apartment. And some said they had cleaned up their acts..
So as much as my fellow directors of the vagina monologues would hate me for saying it, at 8am, such a good morning greeting, while totally crass, can be as uplifting as the stale office coffee (it’s not what you want, but it will give you a little boost for a few minutes)

Marriage IS Gay..I think

The idea of subjecting the world to your terrible sense of humor by displaying it on your T-shirt is certainly not a new one.


However this weekend the streets and subways seemed to have exploded with them. Below, a list of the shirts that I saw this weekend:


* “Define Girlfriend”: I’m guessing this means that the charming chap wearing it is in a relationship, and is not only open to pretending that he isn’t given the right temptation, but that he is brazen enough to wear his intentions on his sleeve, or rather his chest. I just wonder if he wears it when out with this girlfriend that he doesn’t want to define.


Ray mentioned that he had been seeing this one a lot and I naively assumed that it must be a Florida thing. Surely the enlightened, mature residents of the “world’s capital” would not be so douche-baggy…totally…


* “If he’s Rich, I’m his Bitch”: Ah, ladies don’t think you have been left out in the disgraceful t-shirt market. Yes this lovely, yet assuredly ill-fitting shirt has the power to at the same time make you look like the crude floozy that the “rich boy” you are after would definitely be interested in, and set back the women’s movement another 30 years. And who said words didn’t have power?


* “Maybe he’s born with it…”: With what exactly I think the jury is still out on. The slight comic twist to this one was that it was worn by a pasty, gawky dungeon and dragon enthusiast. So either he was wearing it for sheer ironic purposes (I hear the irony is big with the kids these days) or he was referring to his brain..yeah, his brain…

* “Marriage is Gay”: At first I gave this guy the same look I give to men when I see them oggolying women in the street because the insult of calling something you don’t like “gay” reminds me too much of the boys in middle school that I hated. But then as I contemplated the shirt a bit more I thought that perhaps it was a brilliant political statement, as in Marriage is FOR gays too. So I changed my scowl to a knowing nod, thusly securing my standing as neighborhood crazy lady.

One slighty used bike lock for sale..

I have long believed that I own nothing worth stealing. It’s why I never locked my car- I figured any one desperate enough to want to steal either a beat up1988 Plymouth Reliant or a equally beat up 1995 Ford Escort was in a worse position than I was for having to own them in the first place.

The same could be said for my slightly rusted six-year-old Kmart Huffy bicycle. It has saw me though 10 miles a day for a summer on Mackinac Island, all 36 miles of the Kal-Haven trail, the collegiate streets of Ann Arbor and the mean streets of Brooklyn where it survived being hit by a car, and where it was late Friday night stolen from outside my apartment. Someone was in fact desperate enough to want my bike, enough in fact to pass up many the thousands of other bikes in Brooklyn and cut the lock on the little purple bike that could..

I’m annoyed of course, mostly because I now have to buy a new bike and because of the quick reprimand from my roommate that I should have kept it in the basement (yes clearly, by locking my bike outside I was inviting thievery).

The most amusing thing that came from this was my mom’s optimistic reaction: “Maybe they will realize it wasn’t worth it and they will return it!”

I can only hope that the undesirable ness of my belongings will be my saving grace and for the first time in the history of the world a stealer will take pity on a steal-ee and return to the scene of the crime to give them back the goods that are rightfully theirs. I think I’ll put a new bike lock on the gate just in case..


Ps. If you live in the 5 boroughs, keep your eyes peeled for a purple women’s huffy with a 2001 Mackinac Island license sticker…I’m fixin’ to give them a talking to..

No need to thank me Hollywood

A fun new game, feel free to join:
Take the names of two existing films and make up a pitch for a whole new super film.


The Color Purple Rain

Prince stars as Celie, a poor struggling black Minnesota musician in the early 1900s.
Celie is forced to marry Morris Day and lead his band The Time. Celie is made to feel she is unworthy of love and respect and certainly unworthy of leading her own band, even one as sucky as The New Power Generation. Celie eventually forms close relationship with Morris Day's ex-lover Shug. And Oprah Winfrey turns up playing some kind of giant monster. They go on to form The Revolution together and then ride off on sweet purple motorbikes...

Ferris Bueller's Day Of The Dead

A delightful sequel to the feel good hit of the eighties. Once again
Ferris skips school in shemer Illinois and decides to spend the day in
Chicago with his best buds. Things come to a head during the climactic song
and dance scene. During Ferris' rendition of the Beatles version of twist
and shout he is set upon by those dancing zombies from the Thriller video.
The audience are treated to the sight of the smug little twat being torn
limb from vest from guts for the next 45 minutes. Until the Zombies eat his
horrible little head.


Meet the Godfather

Ben Stiller and Al Pacino star in the romantic comedy about a goofy monkey
faced lad meeting his freakishly attractive and perfect girlfriend's
parents. Only to find out that he father is a mob king pin who plans to
have him killed for the slap stick Jim Carrey like descent he has taken into
the depths of unfunnyness.


The Break-Fight Club

Pre millennial angst brutally collides with eighties smaltz in the
Break-Fight Club, the Saturday detention where the first rule of
Break-Fight Club is that you don't eat all the God-damn bacon.

The second rule is something about never admitting to your friends that you
found Molly Ringwold attractive. I haven't thought that far ahead.

Starring Judd Nelson as Bender Durden, the harshest guy in town and Ed
Norton as his lame whiney insomniac alter ego.


Killer Clowns from Office Space

Aliens who look like clowns come from outer space and terrorize a corporate office building. Reaping havoc on staplers, copy, and fax machines. Will the frustrated office workers save their TS3 reports or join the killer clown aliens?

Land Of The Drop Dead Fred

Latin flavor and English "charm" join forces as John Leguizamo and Richard Mayall star as imaginary zombie twins in this fun for the whole family salute to nightmares. A sweet yet hopelessly flawed young woman finds herself failing at everything she tries, so she escapes to the Land of the Drop Dead Fred where she can finally be free to eat as many brains as she wants, but can she really find freedom in escaping the demons inside?


*it must be noted that I am not nearly clever enough to come up with all of these on my own..

Worse than working in a cubicle

I'm ashamed to say that I get a good portion of my daily news comes from a little thing called "captive network" . Which is basically a little TV in the elevator that trys to sell me things and tells me the news and weather on my way to and from the 31st floor in my office building.

Today it told me about bars in China where you can pay to relieve stress by punching someone who won't hit you back, kind of like a half-assed fight club.

Whenever I think my job is bad, I am going to think about that poor Chinese woman going to work every day and getting punched by stressed out office workers.

I'm everywhere you want to be.....or something.

Thai food delivered: $12
Wine: $10
Underwear: $20
Donnie Darko from Netflix: $10/month unlimited
Having the apartment to myself because roommate got a boyfriend: priceless*

* I didn’t pay for all of these things on my MasterCard, mostly because I don’t in fact have a MasterCard, but still do you think they would use it?

Do you have a little irish in you? Would you like some?

Like any good natured person with an inclination to drink and a hereditary past of alcoholism, I enjoy St. Patrick’s Day.


So does New York City, and all the overly green clad peeps therein. I don’t mind their drunken staggering at all, and green is one of the best colors so seeing loads of green clad people just makes me feel like the whole city decided to dress up for me. Cheers, New York.


And Guinness. Guinness is great. That’s right I am a tiny girl who loves a thick near black beer preferred mainly by haggard old potato farmers and soccer fans.


Yep, this is a great holiday to be sure, any holiday centered about drinking as early and often as possible, wearing a lot of one particular color, and acting like a jerk is great. Other examples: Maris Grais, and the Queen’s Birthday in Amsterdam. Both brilliant.


Here is my problem with this joyous day.

Why do people pretend to be Irish? How is that socially acceptable? On Kwanza people don’t run around pretending to African. On Yon Kipper people don’t say “kiss me I’m a Jew!” Also, suddenly every bar in the city is an Irish Pub- really? Just because you serve Guinness, doesn’t change the fact that Bud Light is on tap right next to it…