sneaky sneaky pants

Fact: When people meet me, they think I’m a bitch

Fact: I am okay with that

Fact: I’m not really that much of a bitch…if I like you.  In fact, some might argue I’m quite the friend.

Case in Point:

My old housemate and bestie has her birthday every year on Memorial Day weekend.  When we were living together, we would kind of do a “Summer Kick Off” Memorial Day weekend, and celebrate her birthday – and then close out the summer with mine, which falls on Labor Day weekend.  We like to mash it in with the holiday because neither of us really are into the whole “big birthday celebrations”

Anyways, this heifer got sick of me referring to her as my “wife” and moved back to the Dirty Dirty just in time for her 30th birthday.  A few months ago I asked her “wife, even though you’re estranged, we can still do something for your birthday, did you have anything in mind?”  I got back an emphatic “I DONT WANT TO DO ANYTHING FOR MY BIRTHDAY AND I’M SERIOUS, IF YOU TRY AND SURPRISE ME I WILL BE SO MAD AT YOU”.

yea, okay.

kick-start: Operations Rae-Rae Turns Dirty-Dirty Thirty in the Dirty-Dirty J.

We planned, and planned, and planned.  We even got some feedback from some family members warning us against surprising her.  Did we listen?  Hellmuthafuckinno! 

I am not a good secret keeper when it comes to good stuff, but the best part about the party planning?  15 of us flanking her while she napped on the beach, and the look of shock when all was said and done.  Who doesn’t like a surprise party!

Communists, thats who.

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”

probably.

Keep the Christ in Christmas, B!tch.

One of my favorite things to say to people.

Its funny, you always hear about how the holidays are coming earlier and earlier.  We see Halloween decorations at Labor Day, Thanksgiving decorations at Halloween and ::gasp:: Christmas decorations BEFORE Thanksgiving.

no kidding.  Christmas in the city is like Christmas on f*cking steroids, there’s holiday cheer everywhere –

with the exception of the people in the city.

People are AWFUL when they shop.  Awful.  Holiday’s truly bring out the best in people.  When they’re not complaining about people saying “Merry Christmas” instead of “Happy Holidays!” they’re knocking down a kid for the last stocking.

Now me? I’m going to say “Merry Christmas” – because that’s what I celebrate.  If I know that you’re Jewish, and you celebrate Hanukkah, I’m more than happy to say “Happy Hanukkah“, but don’t tell me that I need to be politically correct for the sake of others.  If you don’t like what I have to say about my faith, belief, or holiday, then just don’t ask me.  Cause I’m not asking you about yours.

While we’re on THAT particular soapbox, if I say the Pledge of Allegiance, I’m damn well going to say “Under God“.  That’s what I learned.  If you don’t want to say “under God” just mumble something.

Anyway, the other day I was at the store picking up some wrapping paper and what not, and the line was LONG.  But it’s the last shopping weekend before Christmas…so a rational person would assume that’s the reason why, and the lines would be long.

Not the person behind me, apparently.  Literally, the second she got on-line she started sighing and complaining (loudly) about how long the line was.  Honestly, if she only said it once, I probably would have let her get in front of me, but she started crowding me.  Which I love (love when strangers touch me.  really.)

Sometimes I have some holiday luck.  As we round the first turn, my buddy calls me – who’s pretty close on the obnoxious scale to me:

Buddy: whacha doin?

Me: just running an errand, picking up some stuff

Buddy: cool, are you gona be back in town for football?

Me: yea, the lines are long ::cough cough, slight pause:: No, of course its expected, its the week before the holiday.  It would be weird if I didn’t have to wait in line

Buddy: You’re making a point, aren’t you?

Me: I’ll be back in a little bit, this is my last stop and the cashiers are going as fast as they can.

Rest of my wait was in silence.