Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Yes, ok, I KNOW Mom...

After Christmas dinner, I spent more than enough time hanging out at my parent's house and ached for Hoboken. My mom suggested that I stay over the night because of that evening's traffic, but have you ever done the commute from Middletown to NYC in the morning? MISERABLE. Last time I sat in traffic for three hours and almost had a stroke. So I packed about 7 bags (seriously, I looked like I was homeless) and got out of there nice and early.

Apparently this was a typical idea because when I arrived at the train station, the majority of the people where about my age standing and waiting for the train with their dads. My dad left, I guess not occurring to him to keep me company, which was fine because I preferred to sit and people watch and listen til my train arrived anyway.

"I don't know about shit, but both places sound pretty miserable to me, " said a son to his Irish American father. They were talking about the son's friend overseas and he couldn't remember where his friend was - Afghanistan or Iraq - but knew he wasn't planning on going to either one.

(In an Irish accent), "Why don't you put your boots on, it's mighty cold out".

Son- Why should I? It's not bad out. That would entail me to have to take all my stuff out of my bag to find them.

Subject over. They start talking about something new.

Five minutes later, the dad mentions something AGAIN about the boots and the son still resisted. Then the son ran to the bathroom, asking his father to watch his things. While gone, dad took it upon himself to root through the bag and pull out the boots. When the son returned, he rolled his eyes at his dad, sighed, and put on the boots.

It must be difficult for parents when their children are in their mid-twenties, teetering the line of childhood and adulthood. We are capable to live on our own, work at real jobs, and support ourselves, but also continue to be spoiled by parents to a certain extent and often need advice on unknown dealings in the adult world. But what are the boundaries? How far can they push until we revert back to the sarcastic-teenager "Ok! Fine! I wish I never was born"- door slammers?

My parents, I'm sure like everyone else's, make me feel like an idiot half the time due to the questions and nagging I get. Some of the classics include, "Well Kristine, you can't burn the candle at both ends, you need to live within your means, you need to balance your check book, blah blah..."

My favorite dad question of the week was, (on Christmas day driving to the train station), "I presume you check the holiday time schedule. It is Christmas and I'm sure they are different".
Me, without thinking, say in a 14 year old voice, "Um. I know. I'm not retarded. Obviously."

When do we become adults in their eyes? Do we ever? Hm. I don't think so. To this day, My 87 year old grandma nags and dumb question my 59 yr old father and right away my dad answers in that familiar "I KNOW MOM" tone. Just shows you that no matter how old you may be, to your parents you timelessly remain their sweet little 8 year old who know nothing about nothing.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Ugg Love

About 5 years ago the U.S. was hit by the ugg epidemic. No matter where I was or what time of year it may have been, they were EVERYWHERE. This trend got to the point that even if I secretly wished I owned a pair, knew it was the time to take a stand and not conform. I was not a catholic school teenager or Australian, where I was guessing they were the norm. So I sat around and silently hated on everyone who wore them and that was that. Enjoy your trend. Take care.

Fast forward to the weekend after Thanksgiving. This was the first winter for me working in the city and I am constantly looking for ways to be cozy and warm. Seriously, my work wardrobe consists of thousands of comfy turtlenecks and warm warm sweaters (which is funny because it is the exact apposite of my night wear, where I choose fashion over warmth). I'm guessing it is not "work appropriate" to wear slippers and fleece sweat suits every day, so I attempt to replicate that in other ways.

I started out in the fall with moccasins, who were neither attractive or cold weather friendly, but they suited me well until it got to the end of November.

It was a hazy dream. I remember sitting in my dad's car, talking to Geraldine on the phone and somewhere from deep within I said, "I'm going to go into "If the Shoe fits (in Redbank) to try on uggs."

Was that really me? What? I was just going to Zebu for coffee and to read the newspaper.

From there, I floated in and tried them on. And ok. I see why all these people wear them.
AMAZING. So warm. So soft. it was like wearing outdoor slippers.

I took a victory lap around the store in my ugg-to-bes and paid immediately, so tempted to wear them out.

I went into Zebu with a huge smile, got my coffee, and raced to the car to change my shoes.
And now I want more. I see girls with ugg boots and what was once ,"I HATE THOSE", has turned into " I want. gimme gimme".

Thursday, December 6, 2007

Happy Hour At Port Authority

It's easy to let yourself get stuck into a daze when you're on a set schedule. Sometimes my days will blend together and it is often hard to keep track of whether something happened two hours earlier or three days before. That being said, you have to appreciate the little quirky things in life that spice up the day and keep you in touch with this crazy calamity of a world.

Last Monday was just like any other. I woke up, took a shower, yadda yadda, walked to work, settled into my desk, got some coffee, blah blah blah, did some busy work, left work, took the walk to Port Authority, and waited on line to buy a week's worth of bus tickets.

How does one describe Port Authority? It's not nearly as fast paced and crazy like Penn Station. I would say it is either commuters who frantically try to make it home early, leisurely day trippers who walk slowly because they don't know where they are going or where their Broadway show is, or super tourists who desperately freak out trying to find Times Square.

Me. I'm a commuter. But I don't live far away or ever have any crazy reasons to be home as quickly as possible, so while I walk briskly, rarely will you see the panic of "I NEED TO GET HOME NOW" in my eyes.

If you plan on taking the bus to Hoboken, try to get there as early as possible. Arriving there anytime past 5:30, be prepared on waiting on the longest line EVER. You can usually predict how long the wait will by where you are positioned on the line. Once looped around the corner by the men's bathroom, you know might as well get comfortable.

Anyway, I was waiting on the ticket line, bopping along to my ipod, when all of a sudden, I see this weird old hairy, possible homeless man heckling the people in front of the line. I immediately lowered my ipod and saw this drunk old crazy man gibbering about how slow everyone was taking buying tickets and how he should be allowed to sneak in front because he would take, while motioning his hand around and around, "ah-one, ah-two, ah-three".

A note about the commuters. Yes they are in suits. And yes, they may be courteous and outbursts are typically not within their character. But. They DO not allow cutters when they have been waiting online for 20 minutes. This nice probably accountant Asian man said, "Well sorry sir, but the line is back there". The faux-hobo replied with, "But uhh donnta wanna waita all the wayyhhh on that there line. ceemmone. Let me slip on in".

At this point the Asian accountant said , "come on man. we are all waiting here. you just can't come in here and get to the front". While he was saying this, the faux-hobo was pushing buttons for his ticket and trying to put his crumbled dollars into the machine.

The Asian accountant was not having this, so he pushed the faux-hobo gently out of the way, and faux-hobo freaked out screaming, "What man! What. don't you touch me! I'll kick yo ass! GO ahead! Touch me again".

Picture this scene. A nice little respectable well dressed Asian versus a weird old possible homeless man probably around 65-70. This is when I began to laugh.

Up until then, no one was doing anything on the line but look at each other and laugh. Another suit behind me walked up and was like, "aright buddy. it's time for you to leave this guy alone. Do you want us to call the cops?"

Faux-hobo replied with a gibber-gabber -drunky "what bitch! you want some of this too! I'll take both of you. Well FUCK YOU. I'm goiiing leave", all the while shaking his finger and walking like he's was this big tough guy, instead of a grandpa.

As he swayed away, the suit behind me yelled, "That's right bitch! Keep on walking".

The end.

Ha. No. Oh there's more.

So I bought my tickets and race to the Hoboken line, which because I had the weirdo homeless man fight, had to go alllll the way to the back, wayyyy past the men's bathroom.

While waiting, I continued to bop along, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a little man (not like a midget. I mean like a very short man, about 5'1 or so) in a puff jacket leaning back and forth, obviously drunk, arguing with this older man who I guess worked at the Port Authority, mopping in front of the bathroom.

Are you kidding? Another fight? Again, I turned down my ipod and went in for a listen.

Little Puff: Come on man! Let me use the bathroom! Come on!
Mop Man: Charlie, I told you last time, you can't go in there when your drunk! What? You want me to call the cops again on you! Go downstairs or find somewhere else to pee.
Little Puff: But..but....

So Little Puff did a little lap and then tried to sneak in behind a much taller gentleman. Again, Mop Man saw him and said, "Charlie. WHAT DID I TELL YOU. Your drunk. You can't pee here. That's it. I'm calling security. I've had enough of you!"

Just like that, my day was amazingly re-invented. So sure, they can freak us out and make us feel uncomfortable, but come on! I seriously live for this stuff. What else would my day consist of? Ho hum. I ran out of ink today. No thanks. I prefer the crazy inappropriate drunks and tough grandpas.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Just Your Typical Tuesday

Without fail, Tuesday nights in Hoboken seem to turn into a ridiculous time, with even more ridiculous characters. And yes, last night was no exception

I started off with dinner and drinks at this awesome tapas place in my neighborhood. Since going to the tapas place Savannah, or the artist formally known as The House of Coffee, I have been skeptical of this whole tapas thing. Savannahs was poorly priced and insanely meager. But the place in Hoboken is mm. mm mm mm.

Anyway, after dinner, I met up with my friend E and we decided to go out and about for cocktails. For the past month or so, we have gone to the same place (The Goldhawk) for open mike night, so figured it was time to mix it up. Where did we go you ask? The Greenrock. The Greenrock is the type of place you have to love because it has dollar drafts and...well... ok, fine that's it. It is always super packed, the music it way too loud, and the people who go there are generally a sideshow. The girls were dressed up in their finest clubbin' clothes and dancing with eachother sexually, in hopes of getting the attention of the late 20's finance men that were surrounding them, discussing who was taking whom home.

And then there was me and E, who were dressed like elementary school teachers compared to these chicks, and kind of standing to the side.

Within minutes, a dude in a blue collared shirt, whom I probably would have found attractive if he wasn't so wasted, staggered over to me, kind of tap/pointed on my arm and said, "Hey. I'm John. I work in finance and make six figures. Whah do you do? Isn't it great that even though I'm so young, I make so much money!"

The conversation continued with me asking if he liked him job, which he said no, to then why did he do it then, with a reply of, well because he made so much money, from which I replied with, I'd rather do something I loved and enjoyed and make less money than waking up and hating life everyday.

He made a fist with his hand and went into a dramatic monologue about how there was SO much more to him and MORE that he needed to give, blah blah blah. What he was doing now was to prepare for his future. He didn't know what he was going to do, BUT SOMEDAY he will make an IMPACT. Then, he looked at me with bewilderment, probably becuase he wouldn't usually show strangers this side of him, and rushed off to the bar for another drink.
pff. So there.

Meanwhile, E was talking to one of wierd blue shirt finance's friends, who was cute, oh so tall, and seemed normal. I moved over closer to them to get out of the middle of the room and happily people watched for a few minutes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw wierd blue shirt whispering something to his friend, motioniong for him to talk to me. Obviously, they either wanted to keep me entertained so his friend could continue talking with Emily or that I was the "weird - bad conversation - pathetic - left over friend" that could easily be taken home by just about anyone.


SO up comes this guy who looked sticky and smelled like a dirty grandparent basement. From here, without a scrap of eye contact, proceeded to give me one of the worst and stale conversations I have had in a long time.

So where do you live? Where are you from? Have you lived anywhere else in NJ?
10th and Willow Middletown Yeah, New Brunswick

Why? Where do you work? Where did you go to college?
I went to Rutgers A magazine I just told you. Rutgers

At this point, I leaned over and said, "Hey E. Lets finish these drinks and go?"
I went to the bar to close out while she said her goodbyes with nice friend, and moved on to the Shannon.

Usually, the Shannon is great. But I guess on Tuesdays it consists of old men playing darts. Whatever. We could actually sit at the bar without someone yelling in our ear or trying to push us out of our seats.

At this point, we figured it was late and should go over to the Gold hawk (surprise surprise) for last call.

Walking up, it looked insanely dead, so I said to E, "dude, what time is it? I wonder if is too late to get a drink..."
umm its 11:30.

So we walked in and sat down at the empty bar, ordered beers and lemon drops, and bullshitted a bit. And yes, apparently I was drinking beer last night (?).

Within two minutes, one of the locals spots us and talked with us the rest of the night. I think about his music, movies we love and hate, and so on. hm.

Last night must have just been one of those nights that I wasn't on or something, because next thing I knew, E & local were in deep conversation (ha, which today she has absolutely no idea what it could have been about), while I drunk texted a guy I used to date.

Awesome. So then a random ukelalie and mandolin player in a snow flake sweater appeared out of nowhere, talked to him for a few and went home.

Time for Bed. End of Tuesday.

The Aftermath.

7:00 Alarm goes off. Um. no. how about you re-set til 8:25.

8:30 began the scrammble of showering, breakfast and lunch planning, getting dressed and so on. Makeup free and badly work dressed, I rolled in around 9:30. Not bad.

Gotta love Hoboken :)