Monthly Archives: November 2008

Oh, hello there.

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I’ve been in Ohio for the past week, visiting my family and friends.

And you?

Sooooo Many Photos of Me and a Boy You Barely Know

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I don’t want to steal all of Aaron the Australian‘s thunder, but if he’s going to choose spending time with the boyfriend he hasn’t seen in a month over posting photos of us, then screw ‘im.

The bull on Wall Street! And us looking super-hot, right?

Me, not afraid to show the heart-wrenching pain I was experiencing at the World Trade Center site.

Aaron on the Staten Island Ferry (post spitting on that guy), sticking his tongue out at our symbol of American freedom.

I wanted to play hand-clapping games with Aaron in the subway but was DISMISSED.

Aaron at the site of the Fat Girls Only chair.

Me in the Former Slaveowners Only chair. Which was right next to the Rosa Parks Only chair.

Aaron and me looking amaaaaazingly cool smoking chocolate cigarettes at my friend Emily’s house party.
Right before we played charades and looked considerably less cool.

Aaron and I kept seeing this ad on subway platforms and wondered if this girl had killed herself out of embarrassment yet.

In case you forgot Aaron’s gay, these photos from the Toys R Us in Times Square should remind you.

Aaron made me take, like, five of these pictures, and this taxi driver got pissed off, because he thought Aaron was trying to hail a cab.

Aaron is making this face because he was trying to pee his pants for lack of being able to find a restroom,
and the stream froze his pants to his legs at this very moment.

Aaron tries his very first Magnolia Cupcake, while I pose with my banana pudding next to the store with the greatest name in history.
Seriously, it’s called PANTS AND . . . !.

Fun times in the NBC Experience store at Rockefeller Center.

Hey, guess who’s NOT ambiguously gay?

The light room at the Top of the Rock, which is probably more interesting than the view of NYC you’re paying $20 for.


My elusive roommate, Wen, actually went out to dinner with us one night. Orgies abounded!

There was also a dinner at Serendipity with Kamran one night, which was disappointingly not awkward and which Kamran so generous paid for. And looooooong conversations about why visiting me was inexplicably SO MUCH BETTER than visiting Beth in Chicago recently. And then, with a kiss on the cheek, Aaron left me on Tuesday morning, never to be seen again. Except for when he visits again in a month. Whatever.

Please note that all of these photographs were taken on Aaron’s camera and may not express the views of this blog and its author.

The Seat-Smearers Strike Again

Filed under jobby jobby job job, my uber-confrontational personality, too much information
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I think it’s pretty common to have a favourite stall in the bathroom, but I’m nearly obsessive about mine. I monitor who else is using it, which of the two toilet paper rolls is getting utilized more, what time of day it gets visited for the first time, and so on and so on. These things are especially important considering that I work next to an office of women who POOP ON TOILET SEATS.

It’s the perfect stall, too. The first one has the air vent in it, and while I appreciate a little noise while I’m doing my business, I can’t handle that there’s a huge space on the right side where everyone can look in and see you. The second one is too cramped. The third one is too spacious. The fifth one is handicapped, for God’s sake. And so I take the fourth. I used to try and play it cool and not use my special stall if someone was already in the third or fifth out of respect for their peeing privacy, but in my old age, I’ve come to care much more about my own comfort.

Anyway, the other day, I innocently went to my stall and found THE HUGEST PUBIC HAIR EVER CULTIVATED just lying there, sprawling across the whole seat. You can imagine my horror. And so I typed up the following sign in the biggest font possible:


I thought about adding something about taking a Weedwhacker to a bush but thought better of it, being intensely concerned about my professionality and all.

When I came back after lunch, I followed a woman down the hall who stooped to pick up the sign, which had been tossed to the floor. I thought it very apropos that these seat-smearing women would take down the sign but not take the extra two seconds to throw it away. The woman–who doesn’t seem to speak a lot of English–looked at the paper as if she was confused by it, so I said, “What an awesome sign,” and she stuck it back on the door without a second thought.

And so my legacy lives on.

Tap Dancers in Union Square Station

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For every 400 annoying guys beating on upside-down buckets with sticks, there’s one subway busking act that actually takes talent. These guys made me stop, stare, and actually shell out some cash the other day:

I also appreciate how particularly New Yorky this video is. Subway station (that someone magically got a piano into), the uplifting advertisement amidst all the grime, all of the people rudely walking right in front of my camera, the guy in the GOLD PANTS AND ASCOT . . . I can’t get enough.

Aaron Spits in the Face of His Fellow Man

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As you may recall, Aaron the Australian is visiting me for the weekend. Not because New York City is a must-see-before-you-die tourist destination but because Katie Ett is one. And while there have been many history-making moments thus far, this has to be my favourite:

So we’re on the Staten Island Ferry, and Aaron decides to spit in the water while I’m preoccupied with picking my nose or something, thinking that spittle will fly straight down despite the fact that we’re in a boat that’s rushing from one island to another. But no! Instead, it of course flew right back toward the man standing two feet behind him. Aaron buried his head in the railing, so I leaned over his shoulder and said, “Sorry! He didn’t know that would happen!” The guy said something back to me that I thought sounded like “that was close” and Aaron thought sounded like “that was gross”. He said it with a smile on his face, though, and didn’t pummel Aaron directly afterward, so I think I’m right.

Although he was probably a tourist from Ohio, and you know that kind just loves to get spit on.