Sunday, January 30, 2011

Dippity DO IT


Yesterday I got my wisdom teeth out. An 11 o’clock appointment and the day off work. So the morning was naturally a gut wrenching affair. There was the high of not having work, and the gut wrenching of having an appointment for a tooth chiseling later. I rose with my girlfriend as she got ready to go to work. Normally I would have made myself a large and sweet breakfast but because I wanted to be put under for the tooth removal I could not eat before my appointment. So instead of making a breakfast, eating it, and cleaning up in the hours I had before the dentist, I decided to get a workout in. I threw on some shorts, a fleece and a hat and busted out the door. I had a nice little workout with some high knees stair stepping, a little weight lifting, and most lovely of all no meatheading. Then, with about an hour to go before my appointment I removed myself from the gym and headed home. On the short walk back home there is a stretch of sidewalk that is, despite new york law, perpetually un shoveled from the snow. It’s a stretch of about 30 or 40 feet with one trammeled path way and the accumulation of a years worth of snow on either side. It is, to say the least, quite a hindrance for the able bodied. And for those of feeble strength of ability it is an impassable obstacle. Well, on this particular day I found a member of our society who met the description of someone perfectly incapable of passing such a daunting test. As I turned the corner to face this dicey path my eyes met on the other side with a very old woman, maybe five feet tall at most, with a cane and a walker. She stood befuddled at the edge of the shoveled walkway trying to muster a strategy or the strength to navigate a path through the snow. My brain clicked into philanthropy mode and I sprang into action. I walked over confidently in my running shoes and shorts and asked the old lady if perhaps she needed a hand. She replied in the affirmative and I began by carrying her walker over the path, then I returned for her. I took her gingerly by her gloved hand and we began across the path, her walking down the trammeled path which was no wider that two feet set together, and I stomping through the powdery stuff. A man came the other way while we were making our way across and seemed quite befuddled as to why we didn’t get out of his way, this old woman and I. It didn’t come as a total surprise that this man expected the weak and feeble to move at his discretion, as he, like most people of this city was a self centered asshole. He eventually saw his only route was to move into the deep snow and around us. We then continued on our way and reached our destination. She requested I bend down, which I obliged, and she gave me a nice old lady kiss right on the cheek that was to become swollen and sore after my surgery.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Toney Bagels


The single best part of my day, any given day, is saying the term 'bitch maid'. It just brightens everything up.

Yesterday I was waiting on the elevator in my apartment to go get my laundry in the basement. Upstairs one flight I heard some commotion, someone banging on someone elses door. Then I hear a yell from up there 'aye man, hey bro, hey'. Well, that isn't ever a good sign and its never something I respond to. But, I happened to have some flip flop sandals on, so the mans voice yells again, 'bro, sandals, do you know where D3 is at?' Well, this is interesting, because a. I live in apartment 3D, and b. my girlfriend was expecting a package. Now, it is 1030 at night, and this person, were he a delivery man, is more ambitious than any delivery man I have ever encountered. But my interest was peeked. So I walk over to the bottom of the stairway and ask this person if he is delivering a package. The look on his chunky unshaven white face said fuck no, and his mouth said; 'nah, my ni--a lives there, I cant find him'. Aha, of course. 'Ok, well I dont think he's around here man' I say' 'why not yo, where the fuck is D3' 'well, I live in 3D and I dont think your...I dont think your friend lives there'. At this point the elevator shows up, small, cramped, slow elevator that it is. 'Hey wait, hold that elevator' the man says, and I do. He rambles down the stairs and comes right up to me. He is sopping wet with melted snow, he goes up to my chin and smells like cheap sweet wine. 'So you dont know Spanish rick?' 'no, I dont anyone named rick' so the man gets in the elevator, and though I think for a second about sending him off into the night on his own, the elevator is very very slow. So I decide to get into a compact space with no immediate escape route along with this intoxicated distraught stranger. 'my mans went to court today and I haven't been able to find him since, damn, I'm trying to find him' 'oh, wow' 'when I find him I'ma beat his ass' 'aha'. I had directed the elevator to the basement, and the man, drunk and distraught as he was, had neglected to press any buttons. So we arrived in the basement. 'where the fuck we at?' 'this is the basement, I'm getting my laundry' 'alright, be good' and the elevator doors closed and he was on his way.