Things I Hate

I haven’t written in a about a week and I don’t have a whole lot of time because I am going to a wedding in Wisconsin this weekend, so I will now provide to you a list of things/people I hate:

• Coffee
• Roger Clarke on NY1
• Injustice
• Fireworks
• “Men” (meaning guys in their teens and early twenties) who look like women
• Coldplay
• Chick Flicks (I make a few exceptions.)
• Li’l Wayne (Just in case I didn’t make that clear in my VMA post.)
• Most vegetables
• Hipsters
• Waiting for the subway
• Sushi
• People who walk up/down the escalator (Again, just in case this wasn’t clear.)
• War
• Waking up before 8am
• Exercise
• The chick who hosts the Top 20 Video Countdown on VH1 (I hate her so much, I’ve made it a point not to remember her name.)
• Dog poop
• Human poop
• Pennies
• Green apple flavored candy

This is just a partial list.

What Would Jesus Do?

If the guy wearing the W.W.J.D. bracelet on the bus last night is any indication, Jesus would:

• Not shower or bathe.
• Wear his jeans below his ass Lil Wayne style.
• Try to pick up chicks on the M11 bus headed downtown.
• Tell said chicks about all the Italians who are staying at the hostel with him.
• Be a douche.

The Sandwich Guy

Anyone who lives in New York and rides the subway has inevitably run into “The Sandwich Guy” on the train.  He always makes a grand entrance and carries a large bag with him that he explains is full of food for anyone who needs it.  He claims to work for a “charity” that does not receive any government funding, so they rely solely on the donations of others.  I had a pretty awesome encounter with one of these guys on the train the other day and I must share.

So, this particular sandwich guy took his position in the center of the train and began his speech.  He rambled on and on about how he used to live on the streets and then he found some church that helped him, so now he works with them to help other homeless people.  He’s wearing a makeshift ID badge around his neck that has a very generic name and logo on it…I think it said something like “NYC Hope”.  He explains to us how unsafe the streets are these days because “thugs” go around setting homeless people on fire and beating the crap out of them.  But thanks to his organization, now you can find them sleeping safely and soundly on park benches.  Gee, thanks for making park benches safe again…sounds like we’re really on our way to solving the problem of homelessness in NYC.  He goes on to say that one of the things they do is provide food for anyone who is hungry.  He has a large nylon bag filled with “sandwiches, water and milk” and anyone who wants the food is welcome to it.  At this point, I’m thinking “Milk??”  How long has he been carrying that unrefrigerated milk around??  He ends by walking up and down the train with a can, soliciting donations.  And he always says the same thing, “God bless the ones that give.  God bless the ones that don’t.”  I suppose that’s a nice gesture.  It certainly doesn’t encourage me to give.  I think, “God bless the ones that give and the rest of you are going to hell,” might be a better approach.  But I guess his way works.

As he’s making his rounds, something I had never seen before happened.  A woman, who looked like she was going through some bad times, asked him for a sandwich.  Now, in all the times I’ve witnessed this scam, I have never seen anyone ask for food.  So, now I’m like…yeah!  Let’s see what you have in that bag.  I have to say, he looked less than thrilled that this woman asked for a sandwich.  Seriously, WTF?  That’s his whole deal…food for anyone who wants it.  He rifles through his bag for a long while and places a sandwich and an orange in a separate plastic bag.  Then asks the woman if she wants milk or water.  Choose the water…choose the water, please choose the water.  She replies with a fervent “Milk!”  Oh my god!  She picked the milk!  So, he places the milk in the bag and hands the bag full o’ food to the woman.  And then he disappeared.  Just like that. 

The woman reaches into the bag and pulls out the sandwich.  It’s a pre-packaged egg salad sandwich that that you’d buy at a 7-11 or something.  Great…egg salad and milk that’s been sitting in a warm bag for who knows how long…bon appetite!  The sandwich is completely squashed and the woman looks at it with absolute disgust.  She throws it back into the bag and pulls out her little carton of milk.  She looks at the milk and declares, “What? They ain’t got no low-fat milk?” 

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why people don’t give to charity.  There’s just no appreciation for genrosity anymore.

Who is your favorite serial killer?

I often ask people that question if I’m trying to get a read on them.  I think your response actually says a lot about you.  I am always surprised at the number of people who either have an answer right away or who take a minute to ponder it.  These are my people.  You know who are not my people?  People who get offended by this question.  I know it’s not like asking who your favorite band is or who your favorite actor is, but honestly the answers to those questions reveal very little about you.  I may learn that you prefer blondes or that you are one of those people who like Coldplay (which also tells me that you are not my people).  But I don’t learn anything about your true nature just because you like Beyonce or Zac Efron…ok, I do learn something about you if you like Zac Efron and you’re over the age of 12, but that’s a separate issue.  After I ask people who their favorite serial killer is, I immediately ask them “Why?”  And the answer to that question is what tells me a little bit about you.  I never judge.  I’m not a big fan of John Wayne Gacy, but if you say that you are, there are no judgments from me as long as you have a reason.  Your reason can be anything – “I liked his style,” or “He seemed like the kind of guy I’d hang out with, except for the killing people part.”  The only time I get upset is when people say Charles Manson, simply because he is not a serial killer.  I will accept mass murderers as answers, but not master manipulators, which is what Manson really is.

I have several favorite serial killers, but the one I always go back to is Ted Bundy.  Damn!  That guy had skills.  He seemed totally normal on the outside, but was one of the most brutal killers.  The term “serial killer” was first used in reference to Bundy.  He claimed to have killed 30 women, but it’s believed that he killed as many as 100.  Here was this good looking guy who had a degree in psychology (the preferred major of all crazy people); he was involved in politics and friends with many police officers.  He was intelligent, charismatic and well respected.  At a certain point, the police had so much information on the suspect they were chasing that they knew exactly what kind of car he drove and that his name was Ted and they never suspected their good friend Bundy.  Crazy, right??  You have to respect that.  He escaped from police custody twice.  Now that’s impressive.  I also favor Bundy because I think he was compulsive rather than insane.  I believe that he had to kill in the same way that other compulsive people have to turn the lights on and off five times or wash their hands fifty times a day.  A kind of OCD, if you will.  I’m not justifying his actions.  But I do think that incredible accomplishments, no matter what their nature, should be recognized. 

So what does this say about me?  I choose to believe that it expresses how I hold intelligence to be the most important quality that I look for in people, and I respect those that possess it.  I like cleverness.  It could also mean that I’m a misogynist.  That may be true.  The important thing to note is that I have an answer and a reason for having that answer.  That’s why I can be friends with me.

Please feel free to post a comment about who your favorite serial killer is.  I’m always fascinated by the answers I get.

Laura’s Not So Live Blog of the VMA’s

I decided not to live blog the VMA’s mostly because I Tivo’d them and my reporting wouldn’t have actually been live anyway.  But I’m going to give you a play by play of what I was thinking as I watched:

I loved Russell Brand in Forgetting Sarah Marshall.  He was the funniest part of the movie.  He’ll make a good host for the VMA’s.  The promos he did were kinda funny.  Maybe he’ll be even funnier live.

Wow…the venue looks cheap and really small. 

Ooohh…”Disturbia”…I love that song.  Rihanna’s whole album is really great.  This looks creepy and awesome and this is gonna be a cool performance.

Oh man, Rihanna is not a dynamic live performer.  She needs that uber-modulation that they do to her voice in the studio and she’s lacking energy.  I think she took some of whatever Britney took last year. 

Why is Russell Brand obsessed with the Jonas Brothers?  What did they ever do to him?  So they’re saving themselves for Jesus, who cares?  It’s a nice change of pace from the message most people (I’m talking to you, Pussycat Dolls) are sending to our youth.

Why can I see tech people all over the place??  Aren’t they supposed to be behind the scenes making the magic happen?  I don’t want to see them.  Make them go away!  Is this intentional?

Jamie Foxx doesn’t know when to read his lines and Demi Moore (whose only connection to MTV is Ashton Kutcher as far as I can tell) doesn’t have a mic.  This does not seem intentional.

Why is this woman talking over Katy Perry’s much hyped tribute to “Like A Virgin”?  I can’t hear her…all I see is her peeling that glittery banana strap down.  Wait…they totally cut to a commercial in the middle of the chorus!!  WTF, MTV?  Hopefully, this will be the only WTF moment of the evening.

Li’l Wayne is flashing gang signs.  He’s wearing a red bandana in his right back pocket, which my husband assures me is a symbol of the Bloods.  I think Li’l Wayne is a repulsive human being for many reasons, not the least of which is his physical appearance…and the fact that everyone in the music world seems to love him.  I think I’m gonna put a hit out on Li’l Wayne.  I am, after all, a supporter of the Crips.

The award for best dancing in a video…surely that will go to Chris Brown.  Of course, I do like that Madonna/Justin Timberlake video.  THE PUSSYCAT DOLLS??  WTF??  Why do people keep shoving these untalented WHORES down my throat?  And I’m not talking about whores like I say that because I hate them…I truly believe that these “women” have sex for money.  I need them to never be heard from again.  Pretty please??  I’d rather watch Li’l Wayne do an encore.

Russell Brand is still not funny.

WTF is Twilight and who are these people?

The theme of the evening is “nothing is as it seems”?  Really…there’s a theme?  No way…this was thought out in advance?  Someone designed this?  And someone’s actually directing it?  Unreal.

A shameless plug for Rockband 2.  Ugh.

Uh oh…I think I just saw Pink’s nipple.  Let me rewind…nope.  Damn.  A near wardrobe malfunction.

Aha!  I did see it that time…it’s all silver and shiny and rectangular.  Oh wait, Ethan says that’s just tape covering her nipple.  Damn again.

DAMN IT ALL TO HELL…Li’l Wayne actually won…some award…Hip Hop maybe?  Against all those people who I assume are better than he is?  I would like to thank him for keeping his thank yous brief though.  Ok, I’m cancelling the hit.  He can live.

Rihanna again…and she’s singing that Swedish song that dude on You Tube made famous.  Weird…but kind of awesome.

She keeps holding her jacket together.  Another near wardrobe malfunction.

Who the hell is Tokio Hotel and why does their lead singer look like a lion?  She is pretty though.

YAY!  Britney won her third Moonman!  She deserves it.  Who doesn’t love Britney for one reason or another?

Kanye West’s performance is the best of the night.  Wait…doesn’t he hate MTV?  I’m glad he doesn’t hold a grudge.

In summation, the evening was a clusterfuck.  It looked cheap and there were no truly memorable moments that people will be talking about.  Russell Brand was relentless in his taunting of the Jonas Brothers and as much as I don’t think children should be allowed into the VMA’s, it was a little unfair.  When did the VMA’s become Disneyfied anyway?  The Jonas Brothers, Miley Cyrus AND High School Musical??  Seriously??  That shit has a time and a place, certainly…and it is NOT at the VMA’s.  I do think they did a decent job of utilizing the Paramount backlot – man, they should do Halloween Horror Nights there…screw Universal…this place is way better – but, it still looked very haphazard.  The pre-show was good.  Tivo cut off the post show (I’m sure the party was AWESOME and the highlight of most people’s evening).    The VMA’s definitely need a shakeup.  For a network that rarely plays videos anymore, it’s kind of a joke to award them.  We all know that we are awarding the songs and not the videos anyway and that the whole show is a popularity contest.  But this was the 25^th anniversary and they did NOTHING to celebrate that.  No throwback to the 80’s, no mention of who won these awards 25 years ago…maybe because most of those people are selling real estate now.  I don’t know.  MTV, I know you want to believe that you’re still relevent.  You’re not.  Try harder.

I promise I will live blog the Scream Awards if anyone’s interested.  Spike knows how to put on a show!  Bring on the half naked ladies!

Raising Kids Can Be Tough

I think it’s important to teach children about the world.  That’s why when I have kids, I plan to raise them Amish.  I am not Amish, but my children will be.  That way they can’t be exposed to the sex and violence so prominent in today’s TV, movies and music.  If they ask me why I’m allowed to watch TV and they aren’t, I’ll just explain that their religion forbids it and mine doesn’t.  It may be difficult for them, but ultimately it’s for their own good.  They will be required to raise a barn before they turn 16.  But, I will buy them a horse and buggy for their 16^th birthday, because I’m generous like that. 

Because they will belong to such a restrictive religion, in order to make sure that they’re not completely sheltered from the real world, I will also encourage them to form rival gangs within our household.  My husband and I will, of course, be in the same gang.  We will have our own gang signs and initiations.  We’ll divide the household into territories and there will be consequences for trespassing.  Nothing violent…just a grounding or an extra cow to milk or something.  They need to learn the truth.  East LA won’t be as kind, should they decide to move there for their rumspringa, at which point I fully expect them to leave the Amish church.  Whether or not they join a gang on the outside is their decision.  I certainly wouldn’t encourage that behavior, trusting they will have learned that lesson already.  On top of that, should they decide to be baptized into the Amish church, it would forbid them from using automatic weapons, so that pretty much kills their chances of getting into a gang anyway.  It’s so hard to raise kids these days.  You gotta be creative.

Peace out.

Bloody Sunday

Ok, I’m going to make a very long story short because I am tired and I need to put this day behind me.

So…Ethan and I got up around 11am this morning with plans to attend the matinee of The Marriage of Bette and Boo by Christopher Durang (my favorite playwright) at 2pm.  At 12:45, I am showered and getting ready to go while Ethan is planted in front of the TV watching an episode of “Generation Kill” (that he’d recorded on Tivo).  I tell him he’d better get in the shower because we need to leave at 1pm.

We are out the door at 1:15 and at the subway by 1:20.  Ethan’s Metrocard is empty and the machine is giving him problems by not accepting any of the credit/debit cards he tries.  We finally get on the train at 1:30.  I know we are not going to make it to the theatre by 2pm.

We step off the train at 1:53pm.  Maybe if we sprint, we can make it.  The theatre is on 46^th Street between 5^th & 6^th Ave, so we exit at the 43^rd Street entrance and take off toward 6^th Ave.  The area seems to be more crowded than usual, even for Times Square.

We reach 6^th Ave and attempt to make a left to head up to 46^th Street, when a police officer tells us we can’t go that way.  We look up and the whole street is blocked off and there is a large stage set up with some kind of performance going on.  Maybe it’s a concert?  Not a good one…I don’t know.  So we head toward 5^th Ave.

We get to 5^th Ave and hang a left when JESUS CHRIST; WHERE THE FUCK DID ALL THESE PEOPLE COME FROM???  There are people everywhere, we cannot move.  They are all dressed in green and yellow and what the hell?  I try to look at the t-shirts they are wearing as we maneuver through the crowd as quickly as we can.  My shins are killing me.  I finally get a good look…Brazilian Day 2008 New York City…GODDAMMIT!  I hate fucking pride celebrations.  Nothing angers me more living in NYC.  I don’t care if you’re Puerto Rican, Costa Rican, Dominican, Gay, Irish, Brazilian…I don’t give a shit.  Be as proud as you want…just not all at the same time on the same day in the same place, OK?

By now, I am almost having a panic attack.  I don’t do well in large crowds.  They freak me out and it makes me violent.  A woman is trying to hand me a postcard of some kind while she shakes her ass to the horrible music that is everywhere.  I grab it from her hand and throw it onto the ground in front of her with as much force as you can throw a 3 oz. piece of paper.  We keep moving.  Well, we try.

We reach 6^th Ave and I don’t see the theatre.  WTF?  Oh, Ethan just realized that it’s between 6^th & 7^th, not 5^th & 6^th.  I cannot even tell you how angry I am at this point.  I look at my phone and it is 2:05.  I hate being late.  I hate people even more.  I see an opening on the sidewalk and dart to get ahead, but I am thwarted by a tranny who spins in my direction out of nowhere.  We are face to face as she dances.  She is about 6 feet tall, so I am eye level with her very tiny, although very pointy unsupported tits.  I huff, throw my arms up and shove past her.  I can hear her friends laughing.  I don’t care, I really need to be out of the crowd. 

We finally arrive at the theatre at 2:10.  The “festival” is still going on outside and you can hear the drums from inside the theatre.  I am sweaty and angry and trying to calm myself down from the panic attack I just had.  The usher tells us that we will have to sit in the back until intermission.  Our regular seats were in row D, they were free, but still much better seats.  I tell Ethan I don’t want to go inside.  He looks at me with disappointment and says, “But it’s closing this week.”  I acquiesce. 

We get to our seats and I’m sitting there for less than a minute when I feel it coming.  Tears start streaming down my face.  I am trying to stifle my audible crying so as not to disturb the people around me.  I cannot stop.  I don’t want to be here.  This isn’t even my favorite Durang play…it’s actually not that funny at all.  Snot is dripping from my nose.  I have no tissue.  I don’t want to sniffle because I don’t want other people to know I’m crying, even though I’m sure the guy sitting next to me could tell.

Ethan reaches over and attempts to grab my hand.  I struggle because I don’t want to hold hands right now.  He is stronger and manages to pry my bag away from me and places my hand in his.  I am still crying.  My eyes are blurry from the tears and I can’t even see the stage clearly.  When the doctor in the play throws the dead baby on the floor, I can actually hear people in the audience get offended.  This pleases me and I start to calm down a little.

I decide to use the jacket I had brought as a handkerchief (that reminds me, I need to wash that) and I am settled down by intermission.  Thank god, Ethan says he wants to leave because the drums from outside are bothering him and the people behind us kept talking.  I know that’s only half the reason, but I’m still glad.

We make our way outside and as far away from Times Square as we can get.

The End.

Sorry about that, I guess that wasn’t so short…but it’s better with all the little details. 

Later.