An Asian Man, a Hasidic Man and My Husband get in a cab...

So there's a transit strike. That means hoofing it from Penn Station. This would be all fine and good but for the fact that last night at around 1:30am I managed to get a giant splinter wedged very far into the "ball" of my foot. This required minor surgery to be performed to extract said splinter. (This, I find, is the danger of hard wood floors, even when wearing socks). So this meant that this morning the foot was a bit too sore to walk the 16 blocks from Penn in the cold to the Job. Compounding matters is the fact that yesterday a co-worker remarked on how short I really am since I have been wearing flat shoes at the office for the past few days. Thanks, and you look uglier than usual. So, I've got the de-splintered foot and I'm wearing heeled shoes.

This means getting a cab. Thanks to New York's draconian taxi rules-- we're sharing, hence the subject line. We managed to hail down a cab going uptown and in it are two passengers-- a young banker type Asian guy and a Hasidic man. Add in the two commuters from Jersey and the slightly overweight Filipino cab driver and its a true cross-section of NY. From the moment we got in the cab the Hasidic man is gabbing on the phone at full blast, talking a mile a minute with some kind of lisp. We're hearing all about how Avi can't come to Shabbat and someone else's son has been seeing a psychiatrist, etc., etc. Finally, he gets off the phone and starts to kvetch to the Asian guy about how people just can't get along. The Asian man says nothing. Silence. Finally the Hasic man says: "What, you speak english?" The Asian man says, very seriously: "Yes."

Then we were at 47th street and the party had to break up.

Friday

Okay, so there was no transit strike (well, sort of, about 750 people who work on various bus lines in Queens didn't show up, but what good does that do me?) and this means I'm at work.

Of course, since there was the threat of a transit strike this was the perfect opportunity for New Jersey Transit to decide to do "emergency" track work between Princeton and New Brunswick. This meant that all trains ran on the express track-- sounds good, right? Except for the fact that the train station platform has a small problem (that being, the local track) that is between it and the express track. What, prey tell, do NJT riders have to do in this instance? Why rush down to the very end of the platform, which I believe is technically in Hamilton, NJ and cram on to a small staircase to cross the local track on wooden boards. This, in transit lingo, is called "low platforming".

Low platforming wouldn't be bad, technically, if I didn't park my car at the very opposite end of the platform (quite possibly being located in Plainsboro, NJ) and if it didn't seem like everyone and his fifth cousin were trying to take the train today. We all ran down to the end of the platform only to be herded and then to watch the train that was waiting for us pull away. Yes, that's right, no announcement, no information-- the train just pulls away with roughly 200 people still waiting to board. It's like the transit lottery. Am I going to get to my destination today? Hey, you never know.

Ps.

Okay, so apparently, I am someone's 18th favorite blogger. I'm desperately hoping to move up on the list, hence the two postings below. Hoping all is clever and meeting your expectations.

Love and Kisses, Wonder Warthog.

Look for the Union Label. Transit Strike!

Transit Strike, it's like we're back in the '70's, how retro! I say Strike! Strike! Strike! Anderson Cooper can be appalled standing in front of a locked subway entrance and based on the Mayor and the Office of Emergency Management's Strike Action Plan, apparently those of us that live in Jersey can just go to Hell. Or, in my case, sleep in and work from home. Yes!

Memo to Everyone: Co-Worker is Out Sick.

You, however, can get as sick as you want. It won't matter. You can stay home, on your death bed. It won't matter. You will still be expected to work. And work. And work. I just wanted to be clear on that. Thanks.

So! Attached is a picture of my first official vegetable hat! Yes, that's Boo-Boo Kitty under there.

Brunch Rules, per Jake's Request.

Before making brunch plans it is very important to familiarize yourself with the Rules of Brunch.

First Rule of Brunch: The restaurant has to either (i) take reservations or (ii) not be popular enough to have a wait.

Second Rule of Brunch: Brunch must be located in Manhattan. Not Brooklyn, not the Bronx, not New Jersey (in New Jersey there are only diners, which, while satisfying clause (ii) of Rule #1, fails by virtue of the fact that diners really should not be considered restaurants in the first place.) Queens is also out of the question, as is Westchester and Connecticut. Don't even consider bringing Staten Island into the picture.

Third Rule of Brunch: For clarification of Rule #2, "Manhattan" means below 96th Street and preferably above Canal.

Fourth Rule of Brunch: Skim Chocolate Milk Availability is a must.

Speakerphone and Secret Santa

Why do some people have to use speakerphone constantly, with their doors open, while they shout? Do I really need to be a part of your conversation? Should I be able to weigh in on the points under discussion? Why should I have to be the person who has to close their door? I'm not making any NOISE! Yes, I am hostile. I hate speakerphone. When you are by yourself you don't need to use speakerphone--- oooohhh, you have to have your "hands free"--buy a fricking headset or close your door!

The speakerphone user also instituted a mandatory "lets buy holiday gifts for staff members" campaign and guess what, you owe me $30.00. Had I been approached with "hey, I thought it might be nice if we chip in and buy Bingo a gift certificate, what do you think?" I'd happily contribute, but being sent an email from a minion saying: "I was told to get $30.00 from you" seems like extortion and we're not even doing Secret Santa. Based on the discussion of speakerphone use listed above I'm sure you can tell how I reacted. I'm not parting with my $30.00.

Ring of Fire

Why is it that it is 1:03 am and I am still awake listening to bad iPod music?

No Heat.

Once again we have no heat in the family room. Which, once again means no TiVo. Apparently, the heating system relies on water from the well as part of its Rube-Goldberg-esque mechanism and hell the well pump broke down sometime during the summer months. At the time we thought it just meant we couldn't use the outside spigots, so we were washing the car at the local Shell station and not thinking much of it. Who connects their heating system to the "well" which is located nowhere near anything??? Goal for this week-- heat before thanksgiving. Worse comes to worse we'll be lighting a fire, thank goodness we do actually have a woodburning stove, not that we've been told that's safe to use. Worse, worse comes to worse we'll be relocating TiVo or using one of our never-used "South Brunswick" recycling barrels to start a small trash fire, that might work.

H&M

I was part of a small riot at H&M. The new Stella McCartney collection came in on Thursday and the women were like sharks in a feeding frenzy-- once the new merchandise was put out for sale the security guards were only letting four shoppers at a time into the "Stella" area-- yeah, that lasted for about 2 seconds then suddenly all these women just started pushing past the security guards, climbing over the displays and ripping the items off their hangers-- and then throwing clothes back at the pack-- people were shouting: "Is that a small??? Throw it to me!"

I have never quite seen anything like it.
It was like the Beatles and Elvis and Tom Cruise all got together and were sitting naked in the middle of the H&M store.

I was proud of myself though. I managed to pull together a matching outfit-- all in my size! It was pure luck (and I had to buy the pants 3 times since I kept finding smaller sizes, first it was a ten, then an eight, then a four-- all the while I'm thinking, I guess I can get them altered, what the hell is a size 40!?!)

Heating, or Reason #348 why Dave would not want to live in a Pre-War House, Pre-Revolutionary, that is.

Once again, we have heating problems. This time its no heat in the family room. And right after we've gotten a TiVo for the family room. Want to watch the Apprentice? Get a space heater and a fur coat.

Now we have the boiler that has no water pressure, ask the heating people to come and fix it and we get a note, tacked to our door saying "no water pressure, valve must be shut off somewhere."

Thanks for the insight. Perhaps we could have a bit more information, such as, What valve? Who turned it off? Where is it? What does it do? Can't you find it and turn it back on or am I just paying for stellar conversation? This all accompanied by a i) broken (?) well pump and ii) the mysterious sound of running water, which may have been water leaving the heating system. Maybe it went on vacation, after all, winter is coming.

McGraw Tower

This Halloween we should all sit back and think about the Great Pumpkin atop McGraw Tower.

11:55

Why is it that during the week I am driven to stay up until 12 or 1 or later, but on Friday night I am ready for lights out at 11?

It was the Cat.

Rain storm, hear loud noise (something clearly hitting the house). Husband has on earplugs listening to a lecture on ancient roman history (whole other story entirely). He asks-- "was that the cat?" (evidence that hearing must be muffled if he thought the sound of something gigantic hitting the side of our home was a noise made by the cat.) I say, no, something hit the house. He gets up and looks out the window-- sees nothing and then he says. "I think it came from over there." What is that supposed to mean?? I'm sitting here, I could hear where it came from, you had on headphones, how would you know where it came from, you thought it was the cat???

Wegmans.

Why is it that the cashier always wants to put your 8 pack of Evian 1/2 liter bottles on top of your fresh loaf of bread?

Everything that can go wrong...

So. Friday started off with a bang, on the way in we got word that there was a subway fire, shutting down the 6th avenue line. We get to Penn Station and decide to take the A/C/E, figuring if they've shut down the 6th avenue line, perhaps the 8th avenue line is not affected. Logical thinking does not prevail. Get to the A/C/E station and it is pandemonium, pandemonium with loudspeakers all saying that the service on the A/C/E has been shut down.

Go to work. Enough said.

After work, have plans to see "Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang". In Manhattan it is always a fight to get a decent seat at the movie theater, especially on opening night and especially for any film which may (or for that matter may not) develop a cult following. Tried to leave work early, doesn't happen. Fight off other pedestrians for a cab- manage to snag one, things must be looking up.

Until, we get the only english speaking cab driver in New York. You would think this would be a plus, right up until he asks us where we're going (movie theater) and what we're seeing--
"who's in that" he asks, and we reply, "Robert Downey, Jr."

Then comes the stories-- about how he's on the "stuff" and then this morphs into some tale about a cab driver, a casino and a lottery ticket. All of this and we're still at 49th and 7th. Then we get hit by another cab.

Fine, just a scrape, no big deal, Mr. Talkative gets back in our Crown V and we start back up town. Everything seems to be fine until he has to count out our change-- 14 dollars in singles. Slowly, twice to make sure he didn't make a mistake, fold, unfold, etc., etc.

By some shocking grace of God we're at the theater in time. We've fandango'ed in advance so we even have our own printed tickets. Time saving? Of course not. The fandango print out must be scanned and regular tickets issued-- and why would the ticket scanner work on a Friday night? Eventually we made it to our movie, we even got Nachos. Of course the screen was smaller than our tv at home and the movie left a bit to be desired, at least we got a story out of it.

Don't even ask about the train ride home.

Expectations

Apparently, I have created expectations. I was told this today. I have entered the blogosphere and must do better than "the best thing about Wednesday". How will I ever expect to become a blog-u-lebrity if I don't do better, push harder, am more creative and fulfill my audience's expectations?

When asking pointed questions to my appraiser, I was informed that while he might create a blog, he "wouldn't tell anybody about it". Now that I have told people, I must do better. So, here's to Thursday, where the best thing about Thursday is trying harder.

At least my socks match.

The Best Thing About Wednesday

The best thing about Wednesday is once you go home and go to sleep, you'll wake up and its Thursday.

Reason #347 Why Dave Would Not Want to Live in a Pre-War Apartment

I went to sleep at 1am and thought "why is Robert taking a shower?" because that's what it sounded like in our bedroom-- like someone was in our bathroom on the other side of our wall showering-- then Robert comes to bed but the noise is still there but I'm totally passed out-- all of my dreams-- someone is still showering-- finally at 4am we both wake up and realize that it sounds like a freight train is coming through our bedroom wall *and* steam is coming out of our floor right next to our bed!

I have visions of this pipe bursting and flooding our bedroom/scalding us in our sleep! So we get the doorman and he comes and takes a look and doesn't want to wake the super because "he'll get mad" we ask him to turn the heat off-- because otherwise the pipe will burst and he says: "no, no, nothing will happen" finally-- he calls the super and the heat gets shut off until 8am. This morning a repair man comes and the first thing he says is: "pipe is bursting, turn off heat!" THANK YOU!!!!!! The man then proceeded to cut a giant mouse-hole shaped hole in our wall, humming "the boatmen of the volga" all the while pulling twisted metal out of the floor. Yeah. so happy to be living in a "pre-war" building-- my question at this point is-- which war!?! 1812???

A Shoe Story

Yesterday I was wearing these cute little Lilly Pulitzer heels-- first day wearing them. I was
avoiding walking over all subway grates until I tried to go into the Banana Republic where the wave of after-work crowds forced me over onto the grate. One of my shoes got kind of stuck but I pulled it out and I looked down quick before going into the store and it looked okay. Later on, as I'm shopping a few blocks away I kept sliding on the store's floor-- but I figured it was just their super-waxed surfaces.... little did I know until I went home that the bottom part of my heel had come off! SO... today on my way to work I happened by the grate by the Banana and my heel part was right there-- wedged in the grate! So I pulled it out and am happy that I can fix my shoe! :) Don't worry-- when I got to work I washed my hands and the shoe piece-- who knows what it was exposed to all by itself overnight in a subway grate.