east village idiot

The scene: the head car of a Manhattan-bound L Train, 2:00am on Sunday morning
The culprits: three douchebags dressed in button-down shirts, designer jeans, and seemingly matching haircuts, presumably coming back from a night of partying in Williamsburg

BEDROOM OR SAUNA? - It’s 6am, I’ve been up half the night, and I wish I had a thermometer handy so I could tell you how warm it is in my bedroom right now. But to put it into perspective, I have a fan running on full blast, I have no blankets on, and I’m still sweating. You can only remove so many layers before you’re naked in a pool of your own sweat. Lately, I’ve heard people complaining about a lack of heat in their apartment. They groan about piling on the layers of clothes and comforters. I wish I was so lucky.

I have a Clif Bar for breakfast at work every morning. I figure it’s better than trying to order a bagel from the idiots downstairs. Every couple of weeks, I have to restock on Clif Bars. To do this, I usually go to Trader Joe’s before work.

Unfortunately, I’ve chosen 2008 as the year to start acting like I’m actually a productive member of society, so I actually get into work on time (9 am) instead of stumbling in at 9:45. And because I actually keep normal hours, I’m paying for it.

You see, because they have chosen to take the route of being a grocery store exclusively for hippies, housewives and the unemployed, Trader Joe’s opens at 9am. There, a Clif Bar costs 99 cents.

At 8:15 in the morning, I have one other option. Because they have chosen to take the route of being a grocery store exclusively for the super-rich, who work hard for their money, Whole Foods opens at 8am. There, a Clif Bar costs $1.69.

So, thanks to Trader Joe’s inability to respect the fact that some people in this town actually have 9-to-5 jobs, I blow through an extra seven bucks every time I stock up on my two-week supply of Clif Bars.

Thanks a lot, you damn dirty hippies.

LAUNDROMAT HOLDS CLOTHES HOSTAGE, MAN FORCED TO GO TO WORK NAKED - I rarely pick up my clothes from the laundromat in the morning, but every time I have, I’ve been forced to wait for it to open well beyond its alleged opening time. The hours posted on the door are 7:30am - 9:00pm. It is now 8:25am, it is still not open, and goddammit, I will not go to work dressed like a Hobo!

SEAN PAUL GONNA MAKE DEES GIRL’S BRAIN SO CRAZEE - A Canadian girl had surgery on Long Island to remove a portion of her brain that caused her to go into epileptic seizures every time she heard rap music. See? It’s not just the lyrics we should be worried about! Rap music is destroying people’s lives! [WCBS 880]

I’m a big fan of the beer. In fact, I’m probably a little too big a fan of the beer. Happiness for me is a cold microbrew on a warm day (cold is the keyword. After all, a one that is not cold is scarcely a one at all).

When I see a huge line of beer taps at an establishment serving alcoholic beverages, I get excited. A little part of my brain kicks into overdrive. I call this part the beer-ebellum. The beer-ebellum kicked into gear last night at Madison Square Garden when I approached their “beer garden.” I was sorely disappointed upon closer examination of the beers available:

From left: Amstel Light, Harp, Heineken, Pilsner Urquell, Stella Artois, Yuengling, Sam Adams Boston Lager, Labatt Blue, Bass, Bud Light, Michelob Ultra, Budweiser

12 taps, and every single one is a mass-produced beer that you’d find at every douchey bar in Manhattan. I’m not saying that all of these beers are bad, but if you’ve got 12 beers on tap, at least throw in something local or unique, like Brooklyn Lager or something from Sixpoint. I’ve never seen so many generic selections on tap in one place in New York City. Judging from those options, I might as well be in Omaha, Nebraska.

The only thing remotely unique here is Yuengling - a regional beer that was referred to by the bartender as “Ying-Yang,” as in, “just so you know, we’re all out of Ying-Yang.”

Appropriately, though, I guess you could say that The World’s Most Famous Arena has The World’s Most Famous Beer Selection. But that does nothing for my beer-ebellum.

TRAFFIC AND WEATHER TOGETHER - The current conditions are: counter-productive snow. Snowflakes are falling from the sky, but they are being trailed immediately by a raindrop, which quickly melts the fallen snow. Checking traffic, it took forever to get out of the First Avenue subway station, because everyone insisted on stopping on the stairs to open their umbrellas. It’s one fluid motion, people… walk and open! It’s not that difficult!

Today: It could snow a little today. But maybe not. It could also be about 60 degrees. It just depends on who you ask, I guess.

Tomorrow: It might be sunny tomorrow. The key word is “might.” Actually, I guess “cloudy” might be the word to describe tomorrow’s weather. I think.

Wednesday: It will be a gorgeous day for your hump day! But that depends on where you are. Like, if you’re in Miami, it might be a gorgeous day. In New York? Probably not.

Thursday: The computer models are telling me there could be a huge snowstorm on Thursday. They’re also telling me that the Dolphins are going to win the Super Bowl, and Dennis Kucinich will be this nation’s next president.

Friday: There’s a plague of locusts headed our way for Friday, with a chance of fire and brimstone. Tornadoes will ravage Manhattan. And a rare mid-winter hurricane will sweep across Long Island.

Saturday: We’ll all wake up on Saturday and everything will be perfectly fine. Or maybe not. What do I know? I’m just a meteorologist. It’s not like I’m hired to predict these things correctly or anything.

SNOW MY GOD - DID YOU SEE ALL THE SNOW ON THE GROUND THIS MORNING? I’m surprised I even got to work! Oh, wait, it didn’t snow? Huh. Could’ve fooled me. After all, I went to bed last night thinking there was a MASSIVE SNOWSTORM HEADING OUR WAY. This morning, the local news stations rushed out to get video of a few snowflakes falling in Jersey City and Connecticut in an attempt to justify how horribly wrong their weather forecasts were. (Side note: on Saturday night, WNBC was predicting 6-10″ in Manhattan by Monday morning.)

White Workday
(sung to the tune of “White Christmas”)

I’m dreaming of a white workday
just like the ones I used to know,
where the pavement glistens
and workers listen
to hear our office closed by snow.

I’m dreaming of a white workday
with every spreadsheet that I fill.
May your days, may your days, may your days have a negative windchill,
because from now on, New York’s never will.

I’m dreaming of a white workday
with every memo that I write.
Tell me why, tell me why, tell me why Al Gore was riiiight
that my winter workdays won’t be white?