Reason number 85 million why I love New York City is because of the sheer volume of obscure businesses within a 2-block radius. Of course the bounty of Starbucks, pizza by the slice, and Duane Reade is exceptional, but the remaining bevy of randomness is what has captured my heart. Manhattan is essentially an oversized grocery store checkout filled to capacity with impulse purchase options.
It is nice to know if I am looking for an antique overstuffed owl shaped love seat, a rare orchid, or a palm reading I won’t have to look far, but more often than not these things are purchased simply because they are there. I can easily go to the bodega to grab some milk or a pack of gum and within moments I am the owner of a pocket watch, a phonograph, or pot bellied pig.
New York has everything I need and everything I don’t. It fuels my undiagnosed ADHD, while simultaneously keeping me grounded and sane. I literally could purchase every $5 pashmina, subway churro, and pirated DVD offered to me. Potentially, there could be a day when New York lets me down, but until then my adoration continues.
I think I’ll go with this theme for a bit. New York I love you.
Prior to the procurement of my cat I determined that I would not become one of those “crazy cat ladies”. Most people don’t like cats. In fact I would tend to think that most people would agree that having a cat is not cool or sexy in the slightest and I feared that by getting a cat, it was most likely resigning to the fact that I would be alone for all eternity. Instead of deciding against the feline, I opted to be the new vision of cat owners. I would be the cool cat lady.
I planned never to post pictures of him online, or buy him novelty toys, or talk about him incessantly. Instead he would be a chic accessory to my newly acquired studio. He would be the clever sidekick in my newest chapter of life. He would be coyly aloof or fun and spunky, but never lame. Of course if I had closely examined the patterns of my personality or been even remotely realistic, I would have known immediately that none of this would be possible at all.
It was inevitable that I would become the most over the top cat owner in the history of time; buying him costumes for every national holiday, photographing, and videoing him incessantly. He is on Youtube, Facebook and the subject of numerous chain e-mails. I am that chick in bars that pulls out cell phone pics and shares them in their entirety with strangers (if that girl exists other than me, which is improbable). It was in one such instance that I recently discovered my baby is fat.
A new colleague had fallen prey to a barrage of photo sharing in the office last week when he commented on my little angel’s size. It was the third comment that week that indicated little Beauty Jr. might be slightly overweight. At first I denied this possibility with the explanation that he is perfect in every way. After my initial refusal, another colleague and I decided to do some side-by-side comparisons of his photos over time. That motivated me to call the vet and get a professional opinion. The jury is back and my cat is fat. 6 months with Mama Brady and my poor cat is obese. Poor little guy. Our diet ensues.
There is nothing more annoying than precipitation in New York City. It is not because of the damp cold temperatures. It is not because of the puddle filled streets or the inadvertent splashing from passing cars. It isn’t even because the influence on my hair to be even more of a frizzy mess than its’ standard sloppy appearance. The overriding reason that rainy days are so exceedingly infuriating, is because of men.
For some elusive reason men feel the need to have the most gigantic umbrellas in the entire world. This effectively causes it to be nearly impossible to navigate the streets in order to get anywhere. Seriously- is it considered emasculating to have a normal sized umbrella? Are you on your way to shelter an entire homeless population? Is it some kind of a status thing? Is it flashy for a dude to have a giant umbrella? Or perhaps the elemental shield equivalent of a motorcycle? Do guys just melt upon contact with drops of rain?
I am not sure what the answer is, but I ask one thing of all men, not that any read this blog other than my Dad, who is not flooding the streets of NYC with gigantic beach umbrellas but alas. Please consider a more modest protective layer. Now I know I have a tendency to be unreasonable, so just consider it, I would be curious to see the impact it would have on morning commuters and street walkers citywide.
It has recently been brought to my attention that I am somewhat loud. It happened quite abruptly, while at the gym when a be speckled man provoked a near fistfight by chastising my companion and me about a week ago. This individual was experiencing difficulty focusing on his book due to our excessive volume and decided to alert us to this fact in an extremely flippant manner, incongruous to his meager appearance.
Due to the petulant nature in which tiny gym Nazi delivered his message, I determined him to be just that and t the volume of our conversation was not the issue to be amended, but rather this horrible elf be removed. It wasn’t until yesterday when I was with the aforementioned gym buddy and we were aggressively “Shushed” by a precious little elderly woman, that I had cause to reconsider. This shush spawned a montage of similar scenarios in which I have been asked to lower the volume of my voice in the past.
At this point in my life I have been asked if I am hard of hearing, compared to a screeching owl, a pack of rambunctious teenagers, and of course aggressively shushed and nearly involved in several brawls. Since it isn’t statistically likely that all of these people have been in the wrong I guess I need to take it down a notch or two. I am very excitable, so this will be a challenge ,but I am committed to at least give it a try. Alternatively, for the next 7 days (or however long I last) don’t take my subdued demeanor as a lack of enthusiasm about your thoughts, ideas, or comments. I care very deeply, however I need to figure out how to express this without also getting knifed at the gym. Besos!