Other people's funny...

Reading someone else's very funny blog has inspired me to get a little crazier with my blog. And by crazier I mean write about something other then hobos. So, I decided I would write about turning 25.

My birthday is on Saturday and I know, I am not that old, but I can't help but feel like I am. 25, is an age I just never saw myself at and I'm not quite sure why. The funny thing is I've been able to do some pretty amazing things in my short 25 years. I've gotten to travel, move away from where I grew up, have a career in what I thought would be my "dream job." I am successful I suppose, I have a great family, an alright love life (most of the time), and yet I feel like I am missing something. I'm sure what it is yet.

I know it's not unique to be unable to figure out what you want to do at age 25. Older people are always telling you that they didn't "find" themselves until they were at least __ (insert completely arbitrary age that is older than you, so that they can feel better about being older). Well I can safely say I "know" myself and I am confident in who I am, but it's more like something missing on the exterior. Maybe it's the lack of functional relationship or the lack of passion I have for what I am doing. I am trying to find that passion by going back to school for something I really love...which is helping people (I don't care how dumb that sounds).

Getting older is strange. We focus on these ages that we have passed and honestly I wouldn't want to go back in time for any of the great things (or shit things) I have lived through. I am scared, but also looking forward to growing older. I want to experience family life, own a house and be wiser. I was told by my friend at work that I have a good outlook on life. I think she can only say that because she doesn't know me all that well. I know I am cynical, but it is possible to be a closeted optimist?

If so, I think that I am. I love laughing at how seriously people take things. If everyone would just settle down a little bit maybe we could all chillax and look at the big picture. I know that I will look back on my time in New York is one of growth and good times. I am incredibly lucky to have been given so much in life. Thank you to everyone that has contributed (for good and for bad).

My mom doesn't read my blog (she does however read random other people's blogs), but if she did she would be able to read about how much I appreciate her and what she has taught me. When she dropped me off for college she told me that she wanted me to do something with my life as she didn't feel she had (I'm not sure if she still feels this way). Well, I want her to know that I admire how she has lived her life and she is the most unselfish woman I know and because of that I have learned and been given so much.

I know this a departure from my typical blogs, but getting older makes me more retrospective and deep (as you can see). Thanks for reading. Love and rockets.

Angry Hobos

Most of the time I try not to interact with hobos that I think may be hostile. There are quite a few of them, so avoiding them is a skill all onto itself. The other day I was hanging out in a Dunkin Donuts, because that's what I do, when I saw this lady with a cart. She didn't look homeless outright because she was dressed somewhat normally, but her hair was pretty Britney Spears like and she was asking people for change, even though she had a brand new iced coffee in her creepy little hand.

As I was waiting for my delightful smoothie I made an effort to avoid her change requests because she was a bit nasty to those who turned her down. She happened to ask this man whose wife did not take kindly to crazy crazerson asking him for his change. The wife started talking out loud sort of to herself, sort of to everyone in the restaurant that this crazy lady needed to back off. In my normal passive aggressive ways I avoid the physical situation and walk over to the straw counter.

As I grab for my straw I see Crazy coming over to me, I think oh no what's she going to say to me? So I just take my straw give it a tap to break the seal and put it in my drink. Just as I finish Crazy comes over looks me right in eye, grabs about four straws (even though she already has a couple in her drink) and aggressively taps them just as I did, but with a lot more hositlity. She gives me a dirty look and then quickly goes back to her cart.

I couldn't stop laughing. I did nothing to her, I said nothing to her, yet I'm the one who got served straw style.

Those Crafty Hobos

Today as I was walking to the subway from work today I saw a hobo with the craftiest sign. He was sitting near the fire hydrant on 34th street and I just happen to look down in time to read his cardboard box sign and wouldn't you know it said, "I'm like Obama. I want change." Get it? Ching ching change...

I thought to myself how inventive is he? It didn't make me want to give him any money, but it did make me laugh. Every once in a while you pass by those funny hobos. The ones with the witty sign or the inventive song and dance. If only they could channel that creativity into a job.

I know, I know not every hobo can probably get a job, but still.

So, I used google image and I put in the phrase "obama hobo," and this is the photo I got. The same hobo picture from my previous posts but with Hilary Clinton's face on it. I thought it was too funny not to add. Maybe if I see that same hobo with the sign tomorrow I'll ask if I can take a picture of him.

Hungry, Hungry Hobo...or not

Now, I know everyone probably thinks I can't write about anything but hobos, but they are around in my everyday life so I can't escape them. Here is today's story...

Most of the time my job is pretty lame. TV sounds cool, but most of the time we just work a lot and don't get paid a lot. Every once in a while you get to do a cool interview or you see someone cool in the building, but that's about it. Today was a double fun day...I met Simon Doonan (the creative director at Barney's and TV personality) and Glenn O'Brien. For those of you who don't know either of these people you should google them. Glenn O'Brien is the Editorial director/co-editor of Interview Magazine. A magazine started by Andy Warhol back in the day. He casually dropped the first time he and Warhol saw David Bowie perform and how he convinced Andy to let Bowie stay despite the mime act he began with. Often times I'm not impressed by celebrities and what not, but this was pretty damn cool to me.

So on to the titling...one of the few perks we have when we shoot is a free lunch. Today I ordered a delicious chicken wrap, but only had time to eat half of it. I decide that since the other half is untouched I would give it to the first hobo I saw. Well it's about 80 degrees outside and I see this woman right at the door to the 34th st subway station. She is dressed in a heavy jacket, a blue large winter hat, and she is sitting on a suitcase, but for some reason I say to myself, "No, this lady isn't crazy." Well I offer her my lunch and make sure to tell her I haven't touched it and all she does is shake her change cup at me. I laughed (and then imagined her kicking me down the subway stairs for laughing at her). She didn't kick me or anything, but she couldn't have been that down and out or I would like to think she would have accepted my food.

Then as I get off the subway at my stop I see one of my neighborhood hobos outside the local McDonalds. He has no shoes on, his shirt is open, his pants are dirty, and he is eating a bag of Doritos he literally just pulled out of the trash. I say to myself, "perfect!" a genuinely hungry hobo who will really need my chicken wrap. Well he pushed it away and says no...

So is it me? Or are the hobos in NYC not really hobos at all? If I had to pick Doritos out of the trash I think I would also accept untouched chicken wraps, but I suppose he is not me. I know I am ignorant for expecting people to be grateful for what I give them, but I really don't think that on a rational level. I just assume when people are hungry they will eat food. Silly me. Oh well, I put in the trash and hoped someone nice would pick it up.

Poop cup rain detector

New York City weather is quite unpredictable. I suppose weather everywhere is unpredictable, but here since we walk so much you have to be prepared or you will be wet, hot, cold, whatever it may be for the rest of the day.

This is where my trusty poop cup rain detector comes in. I know it sounds weird, but this trusty Styrofoam cup lets me know whether or not it has rained in the night, which often indicates to me whether or not I should bring my umbrella to work that day. Let me explain...

First of all, I hate pigeons. They are flying rats. I don't hunt and I don't like guns or killing things, but if I could I would hunt pigeons. I would call them flying rats, but that would be insulting to rats to happen to be a very smart rodent. Now, because I hate pigeons so much I decided to put pigeon stabbers (they are plastic bases with metal pokers so that pigeons can't land of them without getting stabbed), on my air conditioner window unit.

My "delightful" neighbors decided to stick a styrofoam cup onto my stabbers and at first it bugged the crap out of me, because it looks bad and the pigeons pooped all over it. However, I realized that the poop is washed off each and every time it rains! How helpful in the mornings! I know you say, "Why don't you just look outside to see if it's wet?" And I say...because I don't have to, I have a pigeon poop cup rain detector.

Animals as snacks...

So after a long night of little sleep and lots of editing I was leaving my boss' apartment after an early morning hard drive drop off. She lives on the Lower East Side and although most of the drugs might be gone, the crazies are still abundant. However, sometimes the crazies wear sheeps clothing and you just can't tell from the exterior how crazy they really are. Well talk to them for five minutes and you will soon find out.

So as I was be-bopping down the street and I saw this little older lady with three dogs (all off leashes mind you, illegal in NYC. This should've been my first clue). Well two of the dogs were beautiful golden mixes of some sort and since I dream of dogs all the time I sometimes like to be creepy and ask people what breed their dogs are. So I asked, "What kind of dogs are those?" She pleasantly replied, "Retriever lab mixes." So, I countered with "What a great mix, beautiful and good temperaments."

Then out of no where the sky got dark, the dogs turned rabid, and the lady's eyes turned bright red. Okay, that didn't happen, but it might as well have because I would've been less scared if it had. Before I even knew what was going on the woman goes into this tirade about how if you love animals you don't eat them...cows, chickens, dogs, cats, birds, all of them. I can't even reply before she decides to educate me on the fact that humans were not evolutionarily designed to consume meat and not only meat, but eggs. ice cream, yogurt, all types of dairy. Then she says with indignation (towards apparently me and every other meat eater out there) that humans are herbivores and by not practicing that we are killing the environment!

Well I need to add a few side notes.

1. Homo Sapiens (or humans as we know them today) have been eating meat for at least 1.5 million years since the first humanoid type hunters the Homo Habilis. So, I think it's safe to say our bodies have evolved enough to digest meat.

2. As my super smart sister pointed out, if we weren't evolved enough to consume meat we wouldn't have canine teeth or incisors.

3. In New York, or any walking city for that matter, once you start a conversation with someone on the street walking next to you the only way to end it is to turn on a cross street or awkwardly speed up. So once you start...you're screwed until the block ends.

Side notes added, after she continues on her diatribe I just sit there not really knowing what to say (especially since I never admitted I ate meat anyway), so I just smiled and nodded thinking the corner couldn't get here fast enough. She even pulls out freaking PETA paperwork to hand to me before I quickly crossed the street and took a nice deep breath of McDonalds hamburger smell.

I learned a couple things from this experience. Don't start conversations in the middle of the block because there is not an un-awkward way to get out of them. I really like most meats and dairy products and I will continue eating them all I please. And finally...don't talk to anyone! Because even people who look normal could in fact be very crazy

To Eat or Not to Eat

During a recent conversation with my sister about how and why the DC Metro does not allow people to eat in the subway and why the New York City subway does not share such a rule. When considering which subway my sister rather eat in she said definitely DC and I had to agree. Our next question was; How do they enforce such a rule? I was told that in DC people are ticketed heavily for being caught eating or drinking in the subway, which in theory would get people not to do things. However, I have definitely sat in a subway car with guy smoking a blunt before. It may have been at about 3am on the F train in Brooklyn, but still he did it with cops only being one subway car away. He also made us promise not to tell anyone (he may or may not have been cracked out). All that aside I just don't feel like New Yorkers would follow such a rule, because they don't really follow many of the rules already in place.

The excellent point my sister made was that the subway she rather have a turkey sandwich on is the very one where she might get ticketed for doing so. So can you not eat on the DC train because they don't want it to be as disgusting as the NY Subway? Or is the NY subway disgusting because people are allowed to eat on it? I'm not sure food alone could make the NY subway system as gross as it is. I think it's more a lack of maintenance and indifference by it's riders to clean up after themselves. How do they keep the DC Metro so damn clean? I can't possibly think it's based on the no eating rule alone. Maybe it will always be a mystery...

I think this is a case that will not be solved. It should be put up there with "Is Santa Claus really real?" Until it is figured out I will continue to eat my pop-tarts on the subway and try hard not to think about all of the little particles of rat poop flying up and sticking to the jelly as the subway car passes by. Gross? Maybe, but I like to think I am just building up my immune system for when the next black plague hits. We'll see how well the DC population fares when that happens.