I don’t know about you, but I am soooo OVER piercings. I feel like they hit their boom back in 2001-2002 and now should be something few and far between.  The only exceptions should be:

• if it’s part of your culture
• a piercing that has been there forever
• or if it fits your personality perfectly. I’ve met people who look naked without a hoop through their nose or bar through their tongue.

Otherwise I’d like to see a ban immediately. It hasn’t always been like this though. When I was about 18, I got caught up a bit in piercings & tattoos.  At one point I had my tongue pierced (ugh traumatizing) and my belly button (kinda drunk when that happened, oopsah.). A year or two later, the piercings  were gone, as well as the love for them. One of the main reasons was because they got popular & it was no longer a novelty; tattoos at least are different. I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of seeing new tattoos and the creative things people come up with.  It seems that people with piercings, in order to remain a shock factor, have to come up with interesting body parts to get done..

When we were at the Big Day Out a few weeks back, I saw BY FAR the worst piercing ever. After hearing the band Jet perform,  the entire crowd broke up and moved this way and that, looking for new music to enjoy. It’s always uncomfortable being in a huge packed crowd, UNTIL you are  pushed to that next stage of discomfort….A HUGE MOLE…. ON THEIR BACK…..PIERCED.

I repeat.

Back.Mole. Pierced.

!!

I don’t know what else could have been worse.  Moles are hideous. Why draw that extra attention to it?  Oh god…..  at the same time basically, Kyle & I pointed and gasped,

“Oh My God. WHY???? Why oh why oh why???”

So at the end of the day, I say yes to : pierced ears & sometimes the nose. Otherwise, over it! Lets think of a new way to express ourselves.

Yesterday during my lunch break, I decided to treat myself to a walk around a couple blocks, with a finale at Borders to admire books that I can’t buy.  I know, that’s not very nice to do to myself. Even though the book store generally turns into a kennel in which I’m touching and loving the books saying, “I’m sorry but I can’t take you home. I can’t afford you…I’m only here to play”,I generally like to go and browse to see what’s new, who will be reading at an event, and for future book purchases.

I love buying books. As in if I had a choice between….what would be the extreme? Ok. Say I had the choice between the gift of the ENTIRE Twilight series or a weeks worth of groceries…you know what I’d choose? I’d go for the books and deal with kitchen scraps for the next couple days.  So in reality, I shouldn’t be lapping around bookstores because who knows how long I’d be able to control myself.

Yesterday’s visit ended in a mental note of 15 books I planned on reading sometime in the future and then went back to the office for another 5 1/2 hours of boredom.  Did I mention that effective January 1st my office hours expanded from 5 to 5:30?  I know wah wah 30 minutes.  But what you don’t know is that those 30 minutes in fact make my commute longer because EVERY SINGLE person heading back to Hoboken gets there at exactly at 6. Whoopee just like me! So now instead of getting home at the delightful time of 5:45, it has now been basically been pushed back to 6:45-7:00. AWESOME.  Gotta love dedicating the entire day to work.

Sorry. Sorry to angrily rant a bit. I got to the Port Authority and holy mother of god, the lines for the buses wrapped around every twist and turn of the building. With an angry snarl, I kept turning and turning, while muttering with myself, “OH NO! Oh god no. no no no no no. NOT ANOTHER CORNER WHY?????”, when *poof*, like an angel, my roommate appeared!  I hopped in line with her and chitty chattied our way back to Hoboken.

When we finally arrived at home, were happy to discover a wonderful, but common, Hoboken surprise. Free books on our stoop! Hurray!  In a sample sale quality frenzy, we  tore through the box exclaiming, “Oooooo! the first book in the “Lord Of the Rings” series! Yay! The “6 Wives Of Henry The Eighth”! Ooooh Asian pattern book! YES the “Secrets Behind Grimm’s Fairy Tales!” and my personal favorite—”The History Of Cat Illustrations Through The Ages! Yes my friends, we got them all!

My miserable work day was immediately erased by the joy of free books and knowing they wouldn’t be cast out in the cold or on the streets, but safe and sound on a bookshelf right where they belonged.

Later, I re-told my story of good fortune when the bomb semi-dropped.

“Kristine, people just left books on your stoop? Couldn’t it have been a homeless man’s box of books? He could have left them on your stoop for safe keeping to go pee in your alley and while he was gone you robbed him!”

Omg. Could you imagine? He figured being homeless in Hoboken was a hell of a lot safer than being one in NYC. While walking by, took a look at my stoop and figured it was safe, so quickly ran into the alley. Vanessa and I appeared like rabid dogs, savagely decapitating his box of treasures, only leaving the scraps behind.   Not only did we destroy his book collection but also his HOME.

Well.  I started reading the “Wives of Henry The Eighth” last night and it’s fantastic.  So. If I happen to see him glaring my way later, I’ll hand him a peace offering. We have some left over bottles of champagne from New Years… Do the homeless drink champagne?

Without fail, I get stopped at least once a day for directions. I know,  being in NYC  with as many tourists as we get, of course your going to be stop from time to time.  But everyday?

Just to clarify, it doesn’t bothers me.  Actually,  I find it amusing. Little do they know that I pretty much have the WORST sense of direction and never have any idea where I’m going!  Not to say I’m just off in my own little world, but generally, I focus on other random details.  For instance, a friend will ask where I was the night earlier and I’ll have no reply with a, “ha! come on….kinda near maybe (fill in the blank)….”  On the other hand, I am full of answers when it comes to the menu, decor, what people were wearing and so on. My brain must feel no need to waste it’s space with addresses and landmarks I guess. Oh just you wait,  I’ll make for a very disoriented and annoying senior citizen someday.

The only logical explanation  I can think of is that out of all the scary snarling faces in the crowds of New York City, I stand out as one of the approachables.  While I do have an occasional frown on, more time than none, you’ll find me smiling or giggling away, reminiscing about the weekend that just past or of a story heard that day.  If I had the choice of the smiling bopping girl to the scary New Yorker, I’d probably choose me too.

Surprisingly, the directions I have given out thus far have been correct. Which way is Broadway? Where is Central Park? Is there an American Girl store near by? Where is Rockefeller Plaza?

Due to spending the past year and a half of my life in Midtown, all questions have been correctly passed along.

But then there was yesterday.

5:00 came  and off I skipped to flee the office and into the elevator.  While digging through my bag for the essentials – ipod, mitten, hats, and metro card – two men with over-night bags turned my way:

Excuse me, do you know the easiest way to get a cab?

Startled, because  I’m poor and don’t take cabs, in favor or either walking or subwaying it,  dumbly replied, “ummmmm. ha. well. I guess. Um yeah where are you going?”

Luckily, one of my well-paid co-workers who takes cabs, leaped out the woodwork and started explaining in detail their options.

Done and done. Vistors safetly lead to their destination. THEN my coworker turned to them as we were all walking down the street to suggest they take the subway instead.

Yes! I know the subway! I can redeem myself! Apparently though, my communication skills stopped working and I ended using the combination of  muttering something incoherent and pointing. Awesome.

The two business men looked at me oddly and then  shook my co-workers hand with thanks.

I rushed off with shame of knowing I have just been perceived as a “City Stupid”. And damnit,  I guess I kinda am….but still. Who wants to admit that?

First off, I have to say, it has been a while since I last wrote! Between the holidays and two solid weeks of work chaos, I haven’t had a chance to think. The good news is being away, I have lots of new blog ideas, so be prepared!

Anyway, after a long-ish weekend at my parent’s for Thanksgiving, I was happy to return to Hoboken on Saturday.  After I unpacked and had some dinner, my roommates & I decided to go out and about for a bit.  

So a blah blah drink, walk, pointless chat with a 21 year old,  wait on line, and a search for my coat later, we ended up for Jerry & Louise’s for the remainder of the evening.  BTW, I love LOVE it there. Ever been? It’s a dive without really being a dive, that attracts fun and interesting characters, friendly bartenders, and good priced and tasty drinks.

At this point, it was just me and my roommate Vanessa. Meg, our third opted to go home instead. Anyway, so while Vanessa and I caught up on our weekends home,  my phone rang ans guess who it was? None other than my fantastic friend Noel whom I haven’t talked to in ages!! I dashed outside and we had a lovely chat.  When I returned 10 minutes later, Vanessa was surrounded by two guys – both cute in a very David the Scientist from Friends kind of way – chatting her up and seemed very nice and entertaining. About a pile of dialgoue later,  we all ended back at our place for a couple more drinks and continued conversation.

The guy I was talking to was great.  Very interesting, a writer, lived in Hoboken, and seemed to be real and had a great head on his shoulders.  He was definitely someone I could see myself wanting to hang around with sometime in the near future. And by the looks of how things were progressing, I would have been surprised if he didn’t ask me for my number to get together sometime soon.

So I went in to bullshit with Vanessa and she dropped the bomb. She pulled me aside and whispered, “DID YOU KNOW HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND???????”

Um. No…no I didn’t.

Immediately,  I marched over to this guy, pointed my finger at him, and in a very scolding manner said, “HEY! What are you doing????? You have a girlfriend! What is the problem!! Bad. Bad bad boyfriend!!!”

From here, over the next hour, we dove into his problem as if I was a therapist.  He explained that not only was his girlfriend  great and wonderful and he admired the fact that she is so patient and takes all his bullshit, but that they have been together for a while and LIVE TOGETHER.  Allegedly he never EVER thought of cheating on her, but blah blah talking to me was wonderful and I’m just so attractive, he couldn’t help himself. Um. Thanks? Luckily nothing happened, but come on!

While trying to figure out why he was this way I learned an important lesson: ALL. GUYS. CHEAT.  It makes me think of the age long argument on humanity that maybe we are not supposed to have just one mate for life. Is it instinct to seek out something that you don’t have or always want something new and completely different?

This is why when it comes to relationships, I am SO pessimistic and expect the worst. How can I not be after years of bullshit relationships and crappy shady horrors of guys.  And you’d think I’d be optimistic with parents who have been happily married after 20 years. I think it comes down to, and I feel the book “He’s Just Not Into You” probably gets into it (haven’t read, but would imagine so) that obviously if he’s cheating it just means that something is lacking and its the relationship getting stale.  While he very well may like and care about you and all, it’s just that your not the one. Done. Case closed.  Mark my words, the next relationship I’m in and god forbid I get cheated on, HELL no will there be any second chances. Maybe your not supposed to be with one person forever, but for the time being when you make that verbal agreement to one another, respect that.  Otherwise, what’s the point?

I don’t know how or when it happened, but if my friend the Splenda Stealer isn’t around during the work day to chat or email with, I become a psycho-path and harass and stalk the poor girl the remainder of the day. Take today for instance.  I haven’t heard from her, so I’m guessing she is working on deadline.  So I have sent the following:

Email 1 & 2: Weren’t too bad, just mindless banter about how much I love Gossip Girl and the funny things NY Magazine’s blog had to say about last nights episode.

Email 3: Subject – KC The Stalker

“Because i can’t find you, I have been manically posting comments on your facebook.”

Email 4: Subject – Stalker Update

“Now I’m going to harass your sister. one of you has to show me attention today”

When have I become a high maintenance friend? Are these warning signs of a serious problem? Or do I just have too much free time on my hands during the day?  Bless her heart for not changing her email or moving away.

It was the Hoogaboom’s first trip to New York City and what a treat to be visiting in the fall.  Central Park was gushing with beautiful autumn colors and the street cart vendors filled the air with the aromas of roasted nuts and warm soup.  Being the fantastic Dutch family that they were, the ONLY option in experiencing the city first hand was to rent a couple bikes and tour the streets on their own terms.

“So family”, said the mother, “when shall we go?  Around 5? And we should probably just ride around in traffic right? Oh I’ve heard that these New Yorkers aren’t aggressive.  They won’t hit us, don’t bother with helmets”.

“Good idea”, the father said.  “And don’t worry about being alert or quick.  We’re visitors! Locals ALWAYS respect guests!”

This is all I could assume while watching an entire family leisurely (and I’m talking the absolutely slowest speed) teeter-totter peddle their way through traffic at 5 o’clock yesterday afternoon. Amazed. Absolutely amazed.

I feel that subway stations and crazy-man-rants go together hand in hand.  I could probably count on one hand alone the times going this way & that and being surrounded by even a dribble of peace.  It is guaranteed that there will be some random possible crazy person yelling out weird statements that don’t make any sense.  Due to my foot injury, I’ve been forced to take the subway to work everyday. Meh, not my favorite thing to do.  I prefer to walk the 12 blocks down and 4 avenues over, in favor of getting some morning exercise in before spending the majority of the day desk bound.

Anyway,

While taking, what it felt like, a 20 minute escalator ride this morning, some sort of disheveled man stood in the middle on the stairs and declared to the commuters,

“Only a fool lives with a woman! If you have to live with a woman, realize she’s retarded. Yes (chuckle chuckle) all woman are retarded. Oh they sure are. Oh you fools. Living. Working. LIVING with a woman? Retarded crazy stupid women!!?? No no no. Live life without a woman. That’s a life worth living”

And it continued like this until I was out of ear shot and I’m sure it’s still going on as we speak.

Seriously. Where were all the feminists!?  What I would have paid to see some sort of super-feminist jump off the escalator and take him down, all the while exclaiming, “stop oppressing us! We have fought men like you for the past 100 years in order to NOT to be treated this way”.  With that, the rest of us girls would be so inspired by her act of womanly defense and follow suit.  I of course am injured, so would just take pictures, yell along, and shake my fist.

Nope. Instead,  we just turned our ipods up and wished the escalator would move a bit faster.

Spotted: 53rd & Madison. 9:01 am. 200 senior citizen Asians, wearing red shirts & matching hats, slowly (and I mean SLOWLY) parading their way down 53rd. Guess who somehow got stuck in the middle of this? Typical.

Last night I had a wonderful classic date night. Dinner – mm Thai. Movie – “Burn After Reading”, which was pretty good. John Malkovich was hilarious, & then a drink and some good conversation. Couldn’t have been better. Afterwards, I waited for the stupid PATH and then made my way back to Hoboken. The PATH is OFFICIALLY on the shit list after making me wait an hour plus Saturday night, causing me get home after 5 and then sleeping til 1:30 pm the next day. Yeah yeah I know, it’s my own fault for staying out late, but come on! An hour plus! Doesn’t the path know people are out and about on Saturday nights desperately trying to get back to Hoboken?!!!

(Sorry about the rant. Anyway…)

So just to show me how much it despises me, again I had to wait a considerable amount of time. When I finally got back to Hoboken, I merrily bopped along, re-playing the night in my head and thinking what a good time I had, when all of a sudden I saw an image walking up towards me. Great. I don’t know what it is about me that strangers feel the need to say weird things. Maybe they think I want to do the same, but there he was. Skinny. Had a super shiny face. Looked like he was 18. Wearing tight jeans.

“Hey….um you..”….

I turned around and he was awkwardly smirking at me.

“Um…yeah, your flip flops are too loud. heh heh. Way too loud”.

I looked at him again, rolled my eyes and replied, “Right. Ok. Well good thing I’m turning here then huh?”

And off I went.

It could be either of two things:

(a) As a possible 18 year old, that brand of wasteful conversation works for him when chatting girls up. Bad for him, I was still basking of a night gone well and quite frankly don’t need the bullshit dialogue.

(b) He was drunk/and or stoned/whatever and perhaps in the crazy land of his mind, maybe my flip flops were too loud.

Or (c) all of the above.

I’m going with (c)

My friend Mhern works for a publisher, so is always giving me the heads up on book signings and reading that I may be interested in. Last Thursday, off we went to the Barnes & Noble in Lincoln Center for Charles Strouse, composer of musicals such as “Bye Bye Birdie” & “Annie”, new memoir “Put On A Happy Face”. Being the musical theatre fanatic that I am, couldn’t help but get a little excited and bubbly knowing that this amazing man would be chatting about his life & PLAYING some of his popular tunes. OMG. I know.

Because we both work til 5:00 or so and the reading started at 5:30, obviously we weren’t going to get there earlier to secure seats, so had to deal with lingering around the entrance, standing on our tipping toes to listen in. Initially, I thought it was odd that the reading began so early, but once we got there, it was OBVIOUS why. So many old people. And I’m not saying nice glowing grandparents with patient smiles and stories abundant. They were a breed of obnoxious, irrational-sweat suit wearing- will never be pleased no matter what- senior citizens. Let’s give them the benefit of the doubt though that they skipped dinner (which was probably around 5:00), so were hungry and cranky.

The Reading. I’m not going to get into it too much. Ladi-dah dah dah…someone was on the phone, old lady yelled at them to stop, which the person on the phone replied with something like-well don’t push me!! Wah wah my husband’s in there, I need to sit with him. (Rar of Gma) MIKE! Turn up the mike! Can you hear anything? I can’t hear a thing!!

Yeah, I know, you get it. but Charles Strouse was wonderful and gave a lasting impression of inspiration. What a wonderful life he had experienced and despite accomplishing so many things, remained humble and down to earth.

After the reading was over, everyone began to line up for their books to be signed and Mhern & I went over to chat some of her co-workers up. A hello here, a how are you there, and off Mhern went to say hello to her friend’s Mom.

So I stood around a bit and chatted with one of her co-workers, Robert who ended up being a nice and chatty fellow. Our conversation went as follows:

What do you do? Do you like your job?
Sales. HATES it.

Oh you write? What do you like to write about? poetry?
Yes I write. I like to write about myself. I have little to no patience for poetry.

How do I know Mhern?
Oh I don’t know, forever.

And so on.

Enters the Musical Uni bomber.

As Robert & I talked about…well me, I heard a little bubbly, slightly over the top voice behind me say, “excuseeee me, but what does that tattoo on your neck say?”

Always one to talk about tattoos I told her, “oh it’s in Thai and says For The Beauty Of The Earth“.

I then turned to get a good look at whom I was talking to. Um. Yeah she was a mess. She reminded me of a washed-out dental hygienist, standing at a mere 5 feet, with this crazy dry raspy not quite blond, but more like straw hair. To top it off, had these CRAZY-lady eyes, emphasized with HUGE brown eye brows. I couldn’t even tell you what she was wearing because the whole top half of the package was way too much to take in.

From there, she squealed with delight while ringing her hands and THEN in a quivering tone death voice began to sing the hymn “For The Beauty Of The Earth”. From here began the anthem of religion AND spirituality AND her beliefs AND her past within the church AND how she went to school in Boston to go to school for seminary AND how she is at the highest level a woman can be at in the Catholic church, BUT she doesn’t like the Catholic church. AND with pride in her voice stated, “And my grandmother, who is 80 – YEARS – OLD always thought a woman should be equal to a man in church. She was just a woman far ahead of her time”, and with that a little sigh.

While she was chatted away, she slowly and surely began to corner me out. Obviously she was hitting on Robert and I was her in. That was my hint to subtly back away and let love happen. Fine fine, I could survive without a conversation with the crazy and the weirdo.

Just to show you the magnitude of her craziness and that it wasn’t just me being weird,Robert got freaked out, gave her an excuse about wanting to talk to the author and took off. So there I was, alone with the uni bomber. She went on and on about this and that, all the while I spent my time shooting Mhern looks of “GET OVER HERE NOW. LOOK WHAT I’M TALKING TO”.

Finally. I said, “Well I’m going to go and see if my friend is ready to go…”

MU: OH well I know Christine Ebersole (whom was singing that night) and I too have to go in and give something to her.

(right away I assumed a bomb)

She followed me to the door and the security guard said, “wellll where do you think your going”?

I replied to him with , “oh well my friend’s over there and I just want to see if she’s ready to go….While MU said, “I have something to give Christine. Let us in. You don’t think she won’t come over here to see me because she will. SHE KNOWS ME. SHE WILL COME OVER.”

Oh sweet mother or god, the security guard obviously thought we were friends and plotting to take out Tony Award winning Christine Ebersole. (which, sad to say, I looked at her and thought to myself-oooo she was in my Girl 2!….I know, culture is just dribbling out of my pores).

While MU argued and pleaded with the security guard, Mhern came over, and the Musical-Uni bomber turned her attention immediately, telling Mhern how lucky she was to work in publishing, how she was going for her SECOND Masters for library skills and. Mhern mentioned that Rutgers had a good program there, MU violently attacked with-OH no no no. I live in Manhattan!! Agh haha I go to Pratt and they just don’t let ANYONE in…

She continued to shake and panic, on the verge of pycho-sobbing, “I JUST HAVE ONE THING TO GIVE CHRISTINE!!! (she told me earlier that she cut out clippings from a review of a show she saw Christine in recently…but we know better).

Good old Mhern looked at me with the look of “why the hell are you always talking to these weirdos” and said “Must drink margaritas now, goodbye”.

Meanwhile I was obviously erupting to talk about this, but knowing better (and because maybe the uni bomber would over hear and change her target) said, “WAIT until we get outside.” Fine fine.

Thankfully, we got out of the building before the bomb went off, so good for the security guards & that they actually did their job. But what I find most disturbing is not that I am the flame for the crazy moths, but the fact that I am considered a threat by security guards. Could I be the next musical uni bomber….I mean I do love Rent. What happens when it goes off Broadway? Will my musical bomber within flip, unleash, and start stalking original cast members…is this all I can hope for the future?