Sometimes when I’m in the elevator up to Kamran’s apartment, I’ll dig around in my bag for my keys for so long without finding them that I’ll start to believe everyone’s noticing it, and it becomes embarrassing for me to the point that I’ll pull something else entirely unrelated out with an expression of triumph like, “Ah-ha! Found what I was looking for all along, you guys!”
And it’ll end up being, like, my checkbook. Or a baggie of ice, because yes, I steal ice from my workplace. I somehow believe this is better than continuing to dig.
God bless you for all you do, political watchdog groups, but perhaps hiring someone with a certain degree of innate spellchecking ability would be beneficial to your cause:
bigger
This was scribbled aaaaaaaaaaaall over the sidewalks outside of the polling place on Kamran’s street this morning. I just want to pat who ever did it on top of their cute, little heads.
I have to admit something embarrassing. Even though I’m constantly championing the buses to my stick-to-the-subways friends, I got scared off by the Select Bus Service the other night.
I had gotten off the L train at First Avenue coming in from Williamsburg and saw the express M15 waiting at the stop already when I reached the top of the stairs. I usually leave running to the overanxious anonymous and try to maintain some dignity for myself, but there were still enough people lining up for the bus that I was sure I could avoid the humiliation of being left behind, screaming and waving with bus exhaust in my face. I took off for it and got to the doors just as the last passenger was climbing aboard.
Read the rest here.
