Eat Here Now!!!

The other night I went to the Whitney Museum with a couple of friends. It was fun, but... shorter than expected. So, we walked out of the museum at about 9, and they both turned to me to say, "Now what?". I hadn't planned on this, so I rubbed my three remaining brain cells together and decided we would walk 20 blocks south. My theory at the time was that if you walk 20 blocks in any direction in NYC you will run into something to do. Keep in mind, this is a well-tested theory. I have put the method to use time and time again. But, I forgot to take into account the "east side" factor. There is apparently a great lack of stuff on Madison Ave unless you are shopping at Gucci or looking into advertising.

Determined, we persisted, and we eventually (after about 26 blocks) struck gold, in the form of the Eat Here Now Diner. I was intrigued by the commanding name (although it could have used an exclamation point or two), so we walked in and sat down. It was kind of old and dingy, and we sat for a while, waiting for a waitress to get us menus. Then we waited for the food, which was alright. Then we waited for a long time for the check. Kind of hilarious, really.

I liked the required CPR sign in there. Most are illustrated and printed in nice colors. This had the homey touch of being drawn in marker the wrong way on lined paper. It also had an air of mystery. It said- CPR Kit behind desk "manager." I wish I knew the thought behind the random quotation markings.

All in all, it was a smashing success. I may even go back one day.

**Note: While writing this post, I am currently on hold with the IRS trying to get my AGI number from last year, because I'm lame and don't know where my 2007 return is, and I need to e-file to get my taxes off on time. Good times. I just listened to the whole Sleeping Beauty Waltz, and now I'm listening to Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. Oh, and it just went back to Sleeping Beauty... and now I've heard it three times and Eine Kleine twice. Maybe they should work on getting more than two pieces. Hmmm.

Parading Pachyderms and Other Perplexities

At 12:30 this morning/last night, I beheld a side of NYC that I had not yet seen. You wouldn't think that things could surprise me anymore here, but let me tell you! It was weird. It was strange. It was oddly exhilarating. What was this spectacle, you ask?

I saw TEN ELEPHANTS walk out of the Queens Midtown Tunnel into Manhattan and across 34th Street. Where were these mammoth specters going? Why, to Madison Square Garden, of course, to the circus! And apparently elephants don't fit in the subway tunnels or on trains. So they walk from Queens to Manhattan. At midnight.

Through the crowded streets, the elephants marched trunk-to-tail. The lead elephant was bedecked with a crimson saddle and an official-looking rider. Clowns ran around, waving at the audience, but people barely noticed them. Yes, the loxodonta cyclotii were the main attraction.

And, might I say, they were AWESOME.

A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to Connecticut

Ever think "Connecticut" is a weird word? Hmm.

Anyway, today I went there. While I waited for the train, I saw this:

Let me point out the fact that this is the Y2K Communications store. And it "does jewelry on promises." Yes, I think we've found a winner. For the life of me, I can't figure out whether they meant to put "premises" or if they really DO do jewelry on "promises," whathever that means. Again, hmmm.

Once I got to Connecticut (seriously, sounds more weird every time), I found a parade going on. Now, this was your typical St. Patrick's Day parade, albeit a few days early. It had your fife and drum bands and your pipers. It had cloggers and your beauty queen (Miss Connecticut '09). All in all, it wasn't super impressive. Until I saw this:

No, your eyes aren't playing tricks on you. Those are indeed very funny hats on silver-haired gentlemen. And they are really teeny tiny cars. To be exact, they are the Stamford Pyramid Shriners, and they're showing the world that there's no recession big enough to counteract the mid-life crisis. If you can't go buck wild and get the 'vette, then steal your kid's go-cart. Same diff.

Rather fruitful day, don't you think?

Subway Surfing

I spend a lot of time on the subway. You figure it takes me approximately 8 minutes on the subway to get to school and 8 back, so that's 16 minutes. Times at least 5 per week. That's 1 hour and 20 minutes. Then you factor in other trips: errands, recreation, etc, and I think you can safely add another 4 hours per week. So now we're at 5 hours 20 minutes per week of my special subway time. Times 4 weeks... equals... a lot.

It can get pretty boring.

That is why I'm so happy when I see something amusing. In that vein, here are some things I've seen recently that I would love to pass on:

In case you're having a struggle reading that, it says "Do not lean on poor." Since I am indeed poor, I found it amusing and true.

And also, this one on the right. I found it several months ago, and I haven't yet decided whether it is funny or scary. It may be sort of accurate, which promotes the scariness, but also, I find it to oddly fit in with my belief system. So there you go, there are Sunday School lessons even on the subway.

Update: Today (Thursday) I got on the train and this guy next to me starts doing his ballet warm-ups with the pole. It was so weird. I'm just sitting there, and suddenly there's a pointed toe in my face.

Somedays I'm Glad I Took the Subway

Today is sooooo one of those days.

I have a new favorite. This favorite (almost) replaces my old favorite, the pigeon man, who walks around with a hunting cap and vest full of pigeon feathers, cooing at people. My new favorite showed up today at the 72nd Street stop.

cue intensely dramatic Old West music here.

The train stopped. The doors flung open and in sauntered the New York Cowboy. His heavy steps echoed, the clink of his spurs reverberating off the rounded walls of the 2 train. All fell silent as he gave a hard stare, hands on hips, to his surroundings. As he decided all was well, the doors closed behind him. He was a sight to behold, in all his leather-clad glory. From the carefully groomed handlebar mustache to the Wrangler jeans to the boots, he radiated nothing but machismo. Suddenly, the train lights glinted off his belt buckle, the one that said Buster in big gold letters, and the passengers in the train knew this was one tough buckaroo. He sensed his stop coming up, and he grabbed onto the ceiling to steady himself and show off his unconcealed guns. A woman swooned. As the doors reopened and he stepped out to 86th Street, I could have sworn he smiled, just a little, and tipped his hat. Then, as quick as he appeared, he was gone.

Yeah, it totally happened that way.