“Every time you call “SantaCON” a bar-crawl…an elf dies”

I’ve never gone to SantaCon – I don’ t really have anything against it, I think the idea is pretty funny (everyone dresses up as some sort of Holiday character – elf, santa, Mrs. Claus, the Grinch, etc.) and follows a giant crawl through the city to predetermined bars – but I don’t think you know the next bar until you get to the meeting point, and so on/so forth.

A few of my friends have gone the past few years and had a blast.  Two years ago, I was in the city doing some shopping with a friend, during SantaCon – so I was literally surrounded by Holiday Cheer on my ride home.

Now, it wasn’t late in the evening, I think it was around 6PM, but I also think that the SantaCon started around 10 in the morning – so every elf, Santa Claus, Kris Kringle, what have you, on my train was wasted.  And singing.  And cheering.  Me, I was minding my business sifting through my purchases when I heard a f-cking COMMOTION coming from the back of the train.  Obviously, I peek around, and I see two elves going at it. 

Hard – like beating the balls off each other.  Which, if you’re not involved and don’t know anyone, is hilarious.  The train pulls into Jamaica station, and MTA PD enter the car on each side, surrounding the elves and bringing them outside to arrest them.  BAM!  One of the MTA cops gets blasted right in the face by a pissed off elf…and arm-bars the guy against the platform, cuffing him.

to my delight.  And the delight of the people around me – minus the person yelling “Police Brutality!” videoing the scene on her phone.

sit down, idiot, and don’t punch cops.  Even I know that.

don’t turn your back on the Irish…

and this applies to EVERY DAY of the year.  The Irish are like the ocean.  They sneak up when you’re not looking and BOOM, next thing you know, you’re drinking green beer chasing leprechaun’s in your bikini, wearing a giant hat.

Every year, some friends and I have a long-standing tradition of pretending we’re Irish on St Patrick’s day and terrorizing the city.  To be more specific, I pretend I’m Irish, but the majority of my company on St Patrick’s day are, in fact, Irish – so I guess they’re not pretending.  Whatever, semantics.

This past year, St Patrick’s day happened to fall on a Saturday, and it was absolutely beautiful outside.  Perfect parade weather…if you watch the parade, of course.  Which I don’t, I was holed up in various bars from noon till like 10PM.  In any event, a lot of my friends are FDNY or NYPD and either marched or worked, and they said the weather was nice.

One of the girls I hang out with (on days other than St Patrick’s day, too, of course, that’s just one of our bigger days of the year – the others being Memorial day weekend, Labor Day weekend and the Annual NYCTBC), emailed me this morning because the LIRR is doing a test run of banning alcoholic beverages from 5AM Saturday morning through Sunday, in the train station, on the trains, etc.

For the most part, I don’t find this to be a very big deal.  Mainly because I’m not 17 anymore, and I don’t need to drink on the train (with the exception of St Patrick’s day and NYCTBC).  In fact, I do everything in my power to avoid those trains at night – labelled “the drunk train” out of Penn Station.  I think its like 1:35AM, 2:35 AM, and if you miss that, a 3:50 AM or something insane. 

When I say “insane”, I mean just that.  There are fights on the train, people throwing up, crying, yelling, dropping pizza, spilling beer and soda and God knows what.  And they’re all kidlets, I’d put each one under the age of 25.  You’re just as likely to catch hepatitis on this train as you are to get thrown up on.  I could count the number of times I’ve actually BEEN on the drunk train in the past couple of years, and they all have to do with one of the aforementioned events.

I’m thinking that by banning booze around these times, you’re most likely just going to prompt these kids to get even drunker before getting on the train, and instead of having the loud, rambunctious drunk kids, you’re going to have the kids well into the dizzy, vomiting stage of the drunk-edness.  I’m pretty sure NON of the conductors or MTA PD want that.  We’ll see.

Besides, these rules don’t apply to me.  I don’t think I’ve ever actually listened to a rule about not drinking on the train – but I don’t drink like a jerk on the train.  My beer is usually in a to-go cup, and I’m focusing on the beer, not the idiot stepping on my foot.  In fact, I had no idea you weren’t supposed to drink beers at the Jamaica train station.  A friend and I were there a few months ago, having a cocktail on our way to Astoria when a couple of MTA cops calles us over:

MTA PD: “excuse me, ladies?”

Me: “yessssssssssssssssssssssss. officers?” (cops like when you talk to them like that)

MTA PD: “you know you’re not supposed to be drinking here, right?’

Well, no, we didn’ tknow.  So we finished our beers and threw them out.  Some dude walks up next to us and whispers “must be nice to be girls.  I would’ve gotten a ticket”



that’s me! 

I just got home from a quick business trip to Memphis.  I go every year, and I can honestly say that it feels more like a vacation then work – mainly because I LOVE Memphis, and the people there are the nicest group of people ever.  Even the panhandlers are nice.  And it’s incredibly cheap.  And they cook everything in chicken grease.  And I love grits.  And this year, I met the LA Clippers (don’t know them from a hole in the wall, but they’re all like 8 feet tall so it was easy to see who was a basketball player and who wasn’t).

That’s all besides the point.  Where I really am a menace is in the airport. 

I am one of the most relaxed travelers you’ll ever meet.  Literally.  I mosey around, I don’t rush, I’m always at the airport with plenty of time to spare and I like to drink some cocoa before getting on the plane for an in-air nap.  Planes make me sleepy, and its the best sleep I’ve ever had, each time. 

I’m also relatively unassuming – blonde haired/green-eyed chic. Wearing yoga pants.

Every single time I go through the Memphis airport (now, mind you, this is a SMALL airport, and not terribly busy) I get randomly selected for additional screening.  One year, they went through my bag (which is funny, because I accidentally packed a bottle of hot sauce into a shoe and they had to toss it – bummy), the next year, I had to go through the blowey-scanny thing, and this most recent time they wiped my hands looking for explosives, patted me down AND made me get X Ray Scanned.  The guy looks at me and says “I feel like I’ve met you before…”

Buddy, I’m not famous yet, you guys just ping me every year.  Its okay though, I like the attention.


My friend’s often joke that I am a magnet for weird f-cking people.  And they’re right – I have no idea why, or how it happens, but where ever you put me, if there is a jerk or a creep there, they will ultimately wind up talking to me, sitting next to me, or getting on my nerves.

Yesterday I stopped by the grocery store on my way home from work – I needed lettuce and Klondike bars (can’t resist a sale).  For some reason, the supermarket was MOBBED.  I go there before 6, and it wasn’t Senior Citizen day, so I don’t know where all these people came from, but it was packed.

I opt for self check out because I’m not ringing up anything that’s complicated (40 cans of cat food, weird vegetables, ethnic food), I simply have Klondike bars, a couple of bags of lettuce, salad dressing and a steak.  The chic in front of me had a lot of stuff, so I waited for her to finish and bag the majority of her items before I started scanning.

Of course, the scanner jammed on everything I swiped.  And each time, the check-out-helper had to come scan her card so I could continue.  I turned around and apologized to the fella behind me, who gave me a sympathetic look and said “I don’t think you want to be here any more than I do, its okay.  I just started shopping for myself anyway, so this is interesting.”

BOOM – enter the witch behind him – who peers over his shoulder and loudly says “I hope YOU don’t make as many mistakes as SHE did when you ring up” – sneering at me.

I simply shake my head and say to him “You’ll find that grocery shopping brings out the best in people.  Good luck!”


you silly hippies, stop trying to wreck the normal working person’s commute.

seriously – stop it, or I’ll stun gun you.  There was all sorts of hub-bub the past few days about “May Day“, where the OWS hippies are going to start protesting again – I mean, why not?  Its warm out now, so they won’t shiver.  Clearly their cause is important enough to press on, even during the bitter cold of winter.  Oh wait…thats right, they stopped for a few months.

Know whats good about OWS threatening to slow down/stop my commute?  There’s more cops in Penn Station (which is always fun), I don’t feel the slightest bit guilty about being late in the morning (even IF my commute wasn’t affected) and I proudly replaced the batteries on my stun gun last night in the event someone wearing patchouli gets in my way.

I hate the smell of patchouli.