Unnecessary Hostility

B&H customers are forming into a haphazard line as they wait to check out:

Guy #1: “Whoa whoa whoa. Excuse me. Excuse me. Did you...do you think you are ahead of me in line?”
Guy #2: “Well, yeah I—“
Guy #1: “You aren’t. I was over here and you were over there. I was in front of you. You weren't ahead of me.”
Guy #2: “I mean, I just—“
Guy #1: “You’re wrong. You're just wrong, but I’m going to let you go in front of me. Go ahead. Be my guest.”

Music

Me: Oh, and I have another teenage girl song that I totally shouldn't like stuck in my head.
Amanda: Oh? Which one?
Me: Hot N' Cold by Katy Perry
Sam (from another room): That song is AMAZING.

Sorry for the lull

I know we haven't posted much here recently, I'm about to make an effort to pick things back up. I think I'm going to start posting more interactions from my daily life, rather than only things that happened in SpaHa. Being employed really cuts into the time I have to bum around the barrio and witness ridiculous things, so I think widening the scope is the right move here.

It's been pretty quiet around here...

...though since my last post, we had a domestic disturbance that ended with 9 police officers in our building and I got to watch our bathroom ceiling slowly collapse, leaving a 2.5 foot square hole and drywall crap all over our floor.

So, you know, business as usual in SpaHa.

Subway Weirdness

This morning I saw a woman measuring the width of the stairs into the subway with a tape measure. I can't imagine why someone would do this. If you are trying to move something large through the subway, you're going to have bigger problems than the stairs: the turnstiles and the gates are much smaller.

I can only assume that she is either planning to decorate/furnish the entrance to our subway station, or that she is planning some sort of elaborate heist (I'm thinking Minis driving through the subway tunnels or something).

Welcome to Midtown West

I was in front of MSG this morning when I saw a woman vomit on herself, leap to her feet and, in what may have been a language but I suspect was simply gibberish, angrily chastise the vomit on her sweater.

I can't think of anything to add. Though I'm pretty sure the Dow just did roughly the same thing.

Houston Street

I was walking East on Houston St. yesterday when I was unwittingly involved in the conversation happening between a middle-aged couple next to me:

Woman (to Man): "No, seriously, you're not listening to me..."
Man (cutting her off, indicating me): "Now there's a guy with great complexion. Look at him. Lucky bastard."

No gas

Our gas has gone awol for the time being.

Sage Advice

Subway chef (on phone): Fuck you too, you fucking bitch.
[Hangs up the phone]
Subway chef (to us): Never get married.

Al, we need to talk.

I like that the best way to get in touch with Al is to spray paint a message to him on the side of a construction site. That would make meeting girls awkward:

"So, Al, I'd love to see you again, what's your number?"

"Actually my phone isn't working right now. Tell you what, take this can of spray paint and, if you need anything, just hit up the corner of 98 and Lex."

The Language Barrier

It has taken a week for me to discover the language barrier. You can make it in SpaHa with only English because most people speak both Spanish and English, though it is another story when your super speaks neither.

We ran into a small problem the other day where our locks weren’t working so well. I was lucky enough to catch the super in the hallway and confront him with my issue. I tried using hand gestures and keywords that I thought may work though all attempts failed.

After countless failed communication, our super muttered something Slovak sounding then fled from my room. Puzzled, I figured I would wait till my roommate returned to duplicate his key.

No more than three minutes go by and there is a knock at my door. I peer out our peephole to find our super standing there with thick-framed safety goggles and an enormous power saw.

Hmmm….

So after opening the door, an exchange of the universal "man" nod, he let that saw rip into our lock. Calmly, I made my way to the living room to avoid the mini fireworks show of sparks in our hallway.

A few more minutes of sawing go by, followed by another set of nods, and our super was gone. Our lock works great now.

Thanks Zulja.

Death from Above

I just had the following text exchange with a friend who is staying with us for a few weeks:

Friend: is there a worse feeling than walking under scaffolding and hearing a guy stories above you yell noooo!
Me: Holy shit. What happened?
Friend: don't know but whatever it was, it didn't hit me