oh, Cupid.

As evident by all the decorations since New Years Eve, Valentine’s day is rapidly approaching.

watch out for those stray arrows!

I like listening to all the different views on Valentine’s day.  We have the couples in their newly wed phase, who can’t wait for their date night, (complete with candy and roses).  We have the couples that have been together for a long time, that judge the newly weds for their blissful anticipation, yet secretly yearn for the days their husband/boyfriend/girlfriend/wife used to romance them, and we have the couples like my folks, who have been married for-friggin-ever, and still celebrate like they’re newlyweds…

…and then we have the single folk.  And they’re further separated into the “bitter” single, the “desperate” single, and the “oh, well” single folks.  I have friends in all these different categories, and the weeks headed up to Valentine’s day provides money for much, much writing material.

One of my very best friends is going through a rough patch in her life.  She’s hitting a landmark birthday, she recently realized the fella she was dating is a d-ckhead (I’m allowed to say that, cause he didn’t like me – go figure), and she’s coming up to Valentine’s day.  She’s kinda bummed about it because she really doesn’t like being single – and this reminds me of a very special Valentine’s day I spent with her years ago.

I often joke that she’s my wife.  One year, neither of us had plans on Valentine’s day, so I figured I’d be the best wife ever and take her to Olive Garden.  Yep – Olive Garden, her favorite restaurant.  We went, we had fun (we ate, drank and were merry.  I think I bought her a rose), and when I was paying, struck up a conversation with the old man sitting next to me.

“I think its great you two are spending Valentine’s Day together’

“aw, thanks <old man>.  Gotta keep those women happy”

The waiter comes with the bill, I grab it, view the cost, and mutter “Women.  Can’t live with em, can’t kill em”

Exit: Old Man.

I digress.

I’ve spent my share of Valentine’s day with my various boyfriends through out my dating career.  We have the Queens Boy, who would constantly buy me tacky jewelry.  Granted, there was plenty about THAT relationship I could make fun of, but his attempt at gift-giving wasn’t one of them.  While it did display a complete lack of understand towards my personal taste, he did try to do something nice.

Or there’s the cop I dated for a while.  We went out to dinner for, I believe, our second Valentine’s day together.  He leaned over the table, squinted at me and said “wait a minute.  Your eyes are green?”

yes, asshole.  They’re the same green eyes that give you dirty looks when you show up to dinner four hours late because your friend needed help changing a tire (cop code for “drinking beer after tour”).

Or there’s my first “long-term boyfriend”.  On our first Valentine’s day together (mind, you, I stayed with him for two more years after this), said to me “get my belt out of the closet before I beat you with it”.  Astonished, (maybe a little intrigued) by the statement, I open the closet to a vase of roses.

And then I paid for dinner.

Finally, we have last year’s boyfriend who got stuck at work (Ladies, don’t date Firemen unless you are okay with knowing the “Fire House Comes First” – for every single one of them.  Every single one, regardless of what he says) but surprised me by having roses sent to my apartment while I was at work.  Sweet, yes.  My style?  Not even a bit.

I truly do not care about Valentine’s day.  And I’m not just saying that, I really, really don’t.  Sure, I’ve had the whole “romantic, get dressed up and go out to dinner” Valentine’s day.  I’ve also had the Valentine’s day where I’ve come home to an apartment that’s flooded because my friend clogged the toilet before going to work and didn’t check to make sure the water had stopped running.

This year could have gone one of two ways.  I could have chosen to go out with the fella that most likely would have swept me off my feet for Valentine’s day.  He undoubtedly would have done something sweet and romantic – or I could have chosen to stick with my charming FF – a cat I’ve been seeing for a little while now, that most likely will forget the day even exists.  Or not forget, and pretend to because he doesn’t want to deal with it.

I choose option two.  When it comes down to it – flowers die, chocolate plunges me into food guilt, and I don’t like sparkly cards in my house, glitter takes forever to get out of my damn carpet.

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We’re Rude?! No way!

…is the title of today’s AM New York.

Now, I only read AM New York because the guy that hands them out in Penn station tells me I’m pretty, and I’m a sucker for a compliment, but today’s headline is pretty funny.

“NYers scoff at survey saying Big Apple is least friendly city”

I scoff at that too!  Ruder then Boston?  Tell me that after walking through Kenmore square wearing a Yankee hat.  I don’t even LIKE the Yankees and I’ll wear their gear in Boston simply for the reaction.

A pitcher of Sangria makes the Yankee hat easier to wear

Ruder then Washington, DC?  I don’t know.  Well, maybe.  I mean NYers aren’t known for sugar-coating things, like politicians are, so maybe its rude to not give you a reach around whilst stabbing you in the back.

NYers are not rude people.  Sure there are rude people here, but they’re everywhere.  And when you cram a little over 8 million people in about 305 square miles, you’re bound to catch at least one person having a bad day, but on a whole, we’re actually pretty nice.  Ask me for directions, you’ll see.  I won’t even laugh when you ask me where 6th Avenue is.  Not even if you’re standing on it.

We’re assertive, sure.  We get frustrated when tourists take complete control of where we need to go for work, and walk so slow, you almost think they’re moving goddamn backwards.  We aren’t afraid to speak our minds, but we’re not rude.

Its rare you’ll find a NYer that won’t hold the door for you.  The difference is, if you DO close a door in my face, you can bet your ass I’m going to call you out on it.  I won’t just shrug it off as poor manners.  You should thank me, I’m helping you become a better person.  And when you cough your outbreak monkey germs for an hour on my train ride, I’m going to tell you that you should cover your mouth, or stay home when you’re sick (helpful advice).

NYers have displayed multiple times in the past 11 years their pride and love for the city they live in/work in/visit; and are more often than not found sticking up for our Metropolis.  Being the target of hateful crimes has merely brought a feeling of serious pride in where we live, so when people say we’re rude, we tend to get our fur up and tell them the f-ck off.

I’ve done a bit of traveling, and when I tell people where I’m from, they automatically ask me if I have a gun (well, a stun gun, but I don’t have a carry permit for the pistol), if I’ve ever been mugged, and why I don’t have an accent.  That seems a touch ignorant, no?  Granted, NYC is the most widely known part of NY, but it’s not the entire state.  That’s like me asking someone from Maine if they’ve ever caught a lobster.

I also get riddled with questions about NYC, how to find my way around it (it’s a friggin grid, even I can’t get lost here), if there really are giant rats in the subway (yep, and they like pizza), do Mole people really live in the tunnels (goddamn right they do, my old housemate is an expert in them), how to hail a cab (show em some leg), does anyone speak English (sure, along with 799 other languages), have I ever seen a hooker (every time I look in the mirror, JUST KIDDING), do bums take my money (not unless I give it to them), do I know any crackheads (no), drug dealers (just the pharmacist), cops (um, yes), firemen (uh…yes) or movie stars (just me).

We’ve got a city full of culture, food, celebrities, music.  Our Police Department and Fire Department are not only the Bravest/Finest men around, they’re also the best trained, and travel to OTHER states/cities to teach ya’ll how to handle your citizens.  We’re known for our pizza, our Bagels, our accents and our tough skin – and there’s no place else I’d rather be.

not even New Jersey.

If you don't like it here, then stay home

The Golden Rule…

…my parents brought me up on that, and it’s relatively easy.  “do unto others, as they do unto you”

The reason I thought of this was because my ole land lord, y’all remember her, right? Well, she called me earlier today telling me that her home owners insurance wasn’t going to cover the issue with my neighbor, dog and myself.  She retained a lawyer for 5000 dollars, and was hoping I would split the fee with her. Apparently, if I split a lawyer, we will definitely win.  And the fee is reimbursed.

While I’m all for splitting payments I’m pretttttttty sure she is, what I like to call “full of sh-t”.

I don’t recall getting any instruction of pending lawsuits against me. And I’m not exactly a ghost, my name and number aren’t private, neither is my address. Or the rest of my family, we all share a last name, and there’s probably about 78 thousand of us floating around Gotham.

Methinks she’s upset she’s getting sued, and she wants me to chip in by trying to make me believe I am getting sued as well.

Advice: no one will put a judgment against you without you knowing. They’ll find you. Don’t do anything until they do.

She was clearly banking on the fact that even though I have a giant ego, and I’m a narcissist oddly enough, I occasionally have a soft heart, but I’m not going to let some old broad try and scam me!

The situation got grossly out of hand when she started acting like a child and egging the neighbors car, house, property. And her threats to kill him and his dog, I’m sure didn’t help.

In any event, it’s not my problem until it’s actually my problem. And I’m not giving that crazy broad any more money, she was a horrible landlord who cut abundant corners in the upkeep of her house, our apartment (and herself).

Karma can be quite a bitch, I’m so curious how her situation will turn out, and his.

I kinda want to go on Judge Judy though. If THAT is going to happen I am on board, I’d be a goddamn super star on that show.