This winter in New York absolutely sucked. OK, maybe it was not THAT bad, but January was the absolute worst. It was terrible. Every day I planned my escape from this godforsaken place. Then the snows melted and it was like a new city. On days like the glorious one we had today, I think that someone would be crazy to leave New York. Riverside Park near our neighborhood has a perfect cathedral of trees. The other day I was walking my 14-pound attack dog just as a thunderstorm was brewing. The wind was swirling the flowers that fell from the trees, the pigeons were flying in formation, everyone was hurrying to get home, but Rudi and I just were. It was wonderful, the humid air was gone and the cold wind felt wonderful, and the air smelled like the thunder. The clouds were purple over the city but blue over Jersey, so I knew it would not last. Just like the summer.

A necessary tale of woe

Here's another complaint for the web log. I really, really don't want to be negative, I just have to share this and it is part of my ongoing crusade for helpful service in the service industry. Plus I think it is a pretty good story. I have a really nice little digital video camera, and most of my friends know that I just love it and it may appear at any given event. I also make short films with a friend of mine every Easter, so imagine my dismay a few weeks ago when I noticed that the playback screen had black bars across it; the next time I looked at the camera, the playback was gone entirely. Oh no! I was counting on it to make our fifth and final (and possibly most epic ever) Oestertagei Erzahlungen (Easter Egg Tales) series. I knew I had to act fast. I don't want to get sued for libel so let's call my camera company "Schmanon." I called Schmanon Customer Service and got the number and address for the nearest service center, which is in New Jersey. I called Schmanon Service (not a toll free call) and was rerouted through a maze of phone mail until I got an actual person, who told me to send it in. Fine. I boxed it up, went to Mail Boxes Etc (Oh! Oh! I actually wrote about that trip to MBE in my web log, back on March 19!), sent it on its way. Fine. I got an estimate for the repairs, $170, fine, it is worth $700 or $800 so fine, fine, fine. I got the camera back via FedEx last week. The hand strap was all big, and it smelled like Obsession For Men, but it was back. I actually left it at work for a while because I didn't need it at home, whatever, fine.

Last night, for no reason at all, I decided to check it out, see if it worked. Augh! Nothing! Not fixed! Tape! Did! Not! Play!!! AUGH!!!! There was a letter with it when I got it back, which read "The necessary repairs have been completed." What? When someone writes and says that the camera is not playing tapes anymore, don't you think the repair people would, I don't know, TRY TO PLAY A TAPE IN IT before declaring it "fixed" and sending it back to me?!?!?!?!?!?!?! But nooooooo. NO!!!! And to top it off, there is some dirt or lint or dust or something in it now that wasn't there before. Augh!!! Augh!!! AUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!! They are going to fix it for free and I want to be reimbursed for my shipping. I am really POed about this. It is just inexcusable.

Fortunately, my dad recently bought a camera for his and my mom's "The Kids Are Gone, Let's Go On A Trip" trips, so we can use that to make our masterpiece at Easter. Nothing can stop art! Not even the fools at Schmanon!

Then Don't Ask Me!

Last night I had to take the subway home from work because the shuttle bus had an accident (!!) and no one knew when it would be running again. I ran into the wife of a friend of mine, and we went on the train together. After braving the elevators at the 168th St stop (I think that if I am ever going to get SARS or ebola or Marburg virus, it is going to be in those elevators), we went down to the platform to wait for the train. Within seconds, this little guy came toward us. My friend went to the other side of me because we were talking and wanted to send the message that we were talking. He kept coming, though, and said, "Excuse me, ladies, I was just wondering..." and of course, of course, of course we thought he wanted money. 99% of the time, when someone talks to you in the subway, they want money. Not the case this time. This guy got all offended that my friend had walked away from him. He said that he just wanted to "ask us a question," and I said, "Look, guy, we don't have any money." He got all huffy, as if he just had nooooooo idea why we would think that, in the 168th St subway, where people ask you for money 2 or 3 times on the steps from the street alone. Finally, he said, "I just need to ask a question about the train."

At this point, I was feeling a little bad because I jumped to conclusions, blah blah blah, so I knew that I owed this guy some thoughtful directions. He told me he wanted to get to Yankee Stadium. I said that he needed to take the 1 train downtown to 96th and then switch to the uptown 2 to get there. Check your maps, I am right. He started arguing with me! He said, "No, I gotta take the five or the 'tree' train." I said, "No, the 3 never leaves Manhattan, you need to get to the Bronx. The 1 goes to the west, you need the 2 to go to the East Bronx, the 3 stops in Harlem, you need the 2." He said, "No, the only trains that go there are the tree and the five." I was just annoyed at this point and said, "Look, guy, you have got to get to the 2. Go downtown to 96th and ask someone there and they will tell you the same thing." The train came then and we got on one car, he went to another car. I bet he was telling someone on there about the bitches who were rude and gave bad directions. I don't think so.

I did feel bad for him because it was the home opener last night and I guess he was hoping to see the game. But maybe I should not assume anything about this guy.

Back to the Blog

Hi everyone, after a long long cell bio-induced absence, I am back on the web log. Last week and the week before, I just had those days where I got to work, started working, and kept working through the day, without stopping, until the moment I had to leave for the bus. Lunch is my prime web log time, and lunch was significantly shortened over the last few weeks. But now I am back!

Some of you may already know that I bruised my tailbone a few weeks ago, on March 22. How, you ask? I usually say "rollerblading in the park," but the fact is that the rollerblading had nothing to do with it. It was all because of the fall that happened during the rollerblading. A fine distinction, but an important one. Anyway I was thinking of selling my rollerblades, but I have decided that I will give them another chance. I used to be really good on them, but I think we just tackled a too-steep hill for the first outing of the spring. The reason I am bringing this up now is because today, weeks after the fact, my ass is still killing me. I can't sit for more than 15 or 20 minutes without getting uncomfortable. I am old before my time. I have real trouble sitting through seminars. I was planning to go to see a movie this weekend, but we will see if I can take it! I went to the student health thingie a few days after it happened and met my 50-year-old nurse alter ego. She was so funny: "I know you're embarrassed. How can you tell people you broke your ass?" Ha! Anyway she wanted to check to be sure it wasn't broken and so she put on gloves and said, "Should we look? I'm excited!" And I thought I was something special.

I also got a huge, unbelievably painful brush burn on my forearm. It was probably 3 inches wide and 7 inches long. The worst part was that there was all this dirt and gravel in it, and SWHG didn't want me to have an asphalt tattoo, so we bought a brush sort of like the ones for cleaning under fingernails, and she used it to brush all of the dirt and stuff out of there. Oh. My. It was the sort of pain that felt like love, but damn! That hurt. Anyway I took care of it with gauze pads, Neosporin, and moisturizer, and now it is all but gone. Nature, at work, on my arm.

I wish nature would hurry up and get to my ass pronto!

Idiots Ahoy!

Yesterday CC and I caught a ride in SNG's sweet Eddie Bauer Ford Explorer to the Ikea in Elizabeth, NJ. They needed some things for their new apartment, and my experiments with the load-bearing capacity of Ikea drawer sets have reached their breaking point (i.e., the chest of drawers I bought from there in 2000 is now broken). It took us 20 or so minutes to get there, a nice drive through Tony Soprano's body dumping grounds. At one point, SNG said, "What is that smell?" CC and I said, simultaneously, "New Jersey. It's the garden state, you know." My mom, who's a super nice lady, has an unwavering hatred for NJ. I suspect that if Mr. Fantastic and I end up at Princeton some day, we will never see her again.

The idiots were out in force at the Elizabeth Ikea (only 3% sales tax!), swinging their children around, having loud private conversations in those demo rooms set up in the showroom, and measuring things backward. Nowhere, however, were there more idiots than at the Ikea Restaurant, that bastion of Scandanavian cuisine. We got there at 6:23 and were thrilled to find that we had arrived in time to eat before the 6:30 close time. SNG and I got in line behind one single solitary woman. What a pain in the ass she was. She asked for West Coast salads, was told that there were no more, and was totally thrown off her game. She ordered salmon but wanted it with vegetables. The serving lady used up all the broccoli on the two parents' meals, so there was none left for the children's meals. The customer wanted meatballs with broccoli for her kids. The serving lady told her there was no more. The customer looked puzzled. Out of broccoli? Is this restaurant closing soon or what? Anyway. The final idiot event was when the serving lady offered her mac and cheese instead. The customer let her pack on M&C and then asked for the vegetarian pitti pitta or whatever instead. Oh. My. Goodness. Finally she got her ass out of there and we got our stuff. Thank you!

We moved through the store efficiently and, I must say, considerately. More than I can say for some. One set of parents had their kid between them, each holding one of her arms, and they were jumping her around the store even in areas of fairly high congestion. We got our furniture pretty easily, probably because we had paid somewhat careful attention to small details like the name of the item, the price, the color. I say this because this skill was notably lacking in some of our fellow shoppers. CC was on line to order a coat rack, and she was behind an idiot couple who didn't know the name, color, or price of their item. They could not locate it in a catalog. Wonderful!

By this point, we were ready to get the hell out of there. CC put the whole thing on her AmEx card (bless her!) and we swung into action. SNG went to get the car, CC went to wait for the items that came directly from the warehouse, and my job was to stake out a good spot for loading the car. I helped two people put their stuff in the car, and the lady said, "Don't break my lamp, girlie! Ha, ha, ha!" then gave me a look that could have killed me had I looked directly at it. I said something about getting their spot and they looked more offended than you could imagine that I was not just helping to be nice. Whatever. Move on. I stood in a spot waiting for SNG and saw her right behind our final NJ Idiot of the evening, the driver of the Kia Sportage. Wow. He cut off SNG (and two or three other cars) in his efforts to run me over in order to get a loading spot. What a fool. SNG backed into the spot right next to Kia Sportage and we set to work filling the Explorer with the wood-effect stuff as quickly as humanly possible. This guy came and started helping us load, but we stopped him because he was clearly not a shopper and we didn't want to tip him for something we were happy to do ourselves. We got everything in the car and I went in to tell CC where we were. Just at that second, our furniture came out and we practically sprinted to the parking lot to get the hell out of there, finally. At long last, we got back onto the highway. After a trip through the highway equivalent of a rat maze, we were headed toward the city. We were trying to go quickly, but something was slowing our progress. The car in front of us was locked in at 51 mph, well below the acceptable speed of 58-62 mph. Who could it be?

Of course, it was Kia Sportage Idiot! I did my shotgun seat duties by flipping him off as we sped past him toward Manhattan.

We got to SNG and CC's street, double parked, and started taking stuff out of the car. Out of nowhere, this guy comes up to us AS WE ARE CARRYING SHIT and asks us for 80 cents to help him get to some treatment facility in Queens. We said no. He said that he would take all the stuff out of the car for 80 cents. We said no. He started lecturing us about how it was only 80 cents, only 80 cents, only 80 cents. As he shuffled away, he said that he absolutely had to be there by 9pm. I should have just left well enough alone, but damn it, I am a fan of logic and sound arguments. A quick look at my watch showed that the time was already 9:08. I laughed out loud when I saw that, and I said, "Sorry, it's already way past 9." He said, "I know! That's why I got to get there quick!" No small feat, since Queens is at least an hour by subway from our neighborhood, depending on where you are going. After he saw that he was getting no love from us, he shuffled off with some choice mutterings about 80 cents, only 80 cents, only 80 cents.

The best part of the whole thing was that I had a good excuse to miss the Oscars because I was not in the mood for pompous movie stars talking about the W--. Shut up and take the award.

Weird coincidence or incredibly bad taste?...plus some unexpected niceness

I really don't want to write about the current events, but it is sort of pervasive, and so I will keep it non-political.

I'm watching TV right now and there is very little on besides the news coverage of the war-to-be. CBS is showing the NCAA playoffs, as scheduled, but ABC, NBC, and Fox are all showing some news-like programming. Fox has actual news, ABC has commentary on the war, and NBC has some Dateline-esque magazine show with some sort of human interest. Even MTV is showing war stuff; I just checked there and Tom Daschle had made time to call the Times Square studio. Ugh. Do they really think that we want to see war stuff 24 hours a day until this thing is over, especially when there is nothing new going on? There will be plenty of time for the media to whip us all into a paranoid frenzy. Anyway. I say, thank goodness for HBO.

So I am watching HBO now. I am wondering if they are precognizant or just unlucky. They are now showing Hot Shots! Part Deux, which most people have only seen on HBO if at all. Anyway, for those who have not seen it, it is a spoof about a rescue mission to the Middle East to rescue hostages from the hands of a "terrorist dictator," and it starts with an assassination attempt on that person. I am serious! I think they set their programming weeks ahead of time and so this is just a really weird coincidence. Good thing I have 6 HBOs to choose from.

When I got home tonight, there was a message on my machine and I thought it might be SWHG calling me back, but it just said, ".....uh, yes, this is a message for.....uh, yeah, this is Jeff at 800-555-5555, and, uh, uh, it is really important that, uh, you call me back. I will be in the office until 9pm and, uh...yeah. It's important that you call me today. Thanks." Jeff? Eh? I called the number and some guy answered and said, "Good evening, may I have your account number, please?" I said that I had no idea whom I was calling, that this mysterious "Jeff" didn't say why he had called, or from where. The guy laughed and told me that it was a courtesy call about some activity on my credit card. Ha, ha, ha. After we cleared that up, he asked, "So how's everyone doing out there in New York?" I thought that was really nice that he asked. I told him that we have been at the orange level since 9/11 and so the "upgrade" was nothing new to us. I also told him that I am not buying duct tape or plastic sheeting, and he laughed and asked why I would want to have that stuff.

My thoughts exactly!

The Great Communicator

Today I went to Mail Boxes Etc to send my camcorder to New Jersey for service. It still records really well, but it can't play back any video. I boxed it up myself and took it to the MBE near the hospital over my lunch time. I was not concerned with speed so much as with insuring the camera, because it is worth about $800. I went there with a friend and so there is verification for this story. I went to the counter and said to the guy, "I want to send this with $800 of insurance and I don't really care when it gets there." He said that he could send it next day for $35. I said that really, I was not concerned with speed. He said 2 day was $23. I said that really, I was not concerned with speed. We settled on Monday delivery for $16. OK. Wonderful. I said that I wanted to insure it for $800. He said (I swear I am not making this up), "Well, you get $100 of insurance automatically," and just looked at me. I said, "Well, I want to insure it for $800." He said, "OK, well, it's $1.50 for another $100 of insurance," and just looked at me. I said, "Well, I want to insure it for $800. Can you just add it up with the 3-day delivery and $800 of insurance?" He typed something into the computer and then looked at me and said (I swear I am not making this up), "OK, that's fine, now mehglabberschlippergebahbahbahbahbah?" I thought for a second and said, "I'm sorry, can you please repeat that?" He said, "Mehglabberschlippergebahbahbahbahbah?" I looked at my friend desperately. No help there. I was left with no options but to say, "I'm very sorry, I don't understand what you are asking me. Can you please repeat it again?" He sighed wearily, heavily, and said, "MEHGLABBERSCHLIPPERGEBAHBAHBAHBAHBAH?!?" I was so confused. This is one of those situations where someone is making you be an asshole through no fault of your own. As I was trying to figure out what he wanted to know, he looked down at the form I had filled out and said (again, not making this up), "Oh, it's a video camera." WTF?!?! I just started counting the seconds until I could get out of there.

I can understand most accents, but my goodness, there are limits. Give me something to work with, people!