Just a Dream

So, I had a dream last night that I was in space.  I didn't have a space suit on, it was me, in plain clothes, floating through space.  I believe I went up in a shuttle, but somehow got out of it and just floated up to a small space station.  Someone was with me, although I don't know who.  We discussed the changes in the different space shuttles over time.  How they got more sleek and aerodynamic.  We entered the space station, looked around, and then just left, going back to floating amongst the stars.  

That was all I can really recall from the dream.

Then I found out that today is the day the space shuttle program will end...

TMI! TMI!

If you are related to Amanda or me, you might want to stop reading now.

You're still reading...STOP!

Okay, just don't bring it up later!

Keep in mind we've only been in NY for a little over two months...and those months have been from warm to hot!

That said, spontaneous sex is out of the question!  Unless you are completely immune to the musty smell of the netherlands, a shower is absolutely needed before engaging in physical fun time.

Maybe it's just us!  Maybe most people don't care!  I'm sure there will be a point in time when we just throw in the towel and get used to stinky, sweaty sex.

Now don't get me wrong, sweaty sex is awesome!  But this isn't just sweaty sex.  This is walking around New York City, layer of grime on skin, hair slicked back from the sweat, soaked through clothing, in need of Gold Bond sweat.  This isn't that roll over for post-coital heavy breathing, dry off under a ceiling fan while still reaching for a boob sweat.  This is that lay down and push every cover to the middle of the bed, get the dog away from me, I love you but please don't touch me right now I feel gross, I usually fall asleep touching my own junk but I don't want to sour my hands sweat!  I guess my point is, THIS IS NOT SEXY SWEAT!

I have been a morning showerer for as long as I can remember.  The only time this routine typically changes is when I have to be up really early for something and showering the night before will buy me 20 more minutes of sleep the next morning.  I like being a morning showerer.  It helps wake me up!  It's a great way to start the day!  I constantly resist the need to be the night time showerer.  Usually it is because I'm just too damn tired to shower at night and I just want to go to bed.

"Why not shower early in the evening so when you get tired you can just go to bed?"

Good question.  Here's my answer:

I have two dogs that I have to harness and leash and walk down three flights of stairs and out into the street to stand in the heat while they piss and shit and then pick up said shit and walk back up those three flights of stairs and unharness them and then go to bed.  By the time I'm done with that, I'm usually sweating again.  Yes, part of it has to do with the fact that I'm out of shape.  Yes, part of it has to do with the fact that I'm a sweaty person.  Maybe in the fall things will be different.  But for now, it's gross.

Keep in mind we have A/C units in our bedroom and in the living room.  I've seen a lot of apartments without A/C units!  Can you imagine the overwhelming, perpetual ball smell slapping you in the face there?

Now, you may have noticed that I'm only referencing the smell of the male genitalia and I have done so for very good reason.  My wife smells like roses.

You think your shit don't stink!?

Pigeons.

If you have ever been to New York or seen a movie that takes place in New York, you know that there are pigeons everywhere.  When I first moved up here, I wondered how often people got shat on by pigeons.  I also wondered how long it would take before I was inevitably shat on.  Roughly nine weeks and one and a half days.

Amanda and I met up with some friends at the most awesome sports bar EVER, 200 5th.  They have a huge projector screen in the back of the place and individual TVs for each person sitting at a table.  I'm not saying there is a TV at each table...I'm saying there is a TV for each person!  And you can get them to tune in to whatever game you want!

Needless to say, this past Sunday every TV was tuned in to the Fifa Women's World Cup Final.  I was seated on a long bench seat between three people.  I get a bit claustrophobic, so I had to take a break and get out from the middle of the bench.  It was noisy inside the bar and I was trying to talk to Amanda and my buddy, Jim about his job, so we stepped outside for a minute.  I led the trio out of the front door...and blammo!

I don't know if you've ever been shat upon, but it kind of sucks.  This massive poop landed directly on my left shoulder.  That's a bit too close to my face!  I also felt something hit my neck and the back of my head.  It took me a moment to realize what had happened.  At first I thought it was condensation from an A/C unit, but then realized it was more than just a drip.  Then I thought someone threw up out of a window above the bar, but there wasn't enough for it to be vomit.  That's when I glanced up (risky!) to see the freshly relieved pigeon turn and strut away.  I looked at Jim and Amanda who were confused and stunned.

"I just got shat upon," I said, nonchalantly.

Somewhere between the laughter Amanda was able to remind me that getting shit on by a bird is supposed to be good luck.

Amanda ran inside to grab me some napkins.  I stood, frozen, outside of the bar and had Jim check my neck and hair for any poo-poo splatter.  He didn't see any, just some clear liquid like water...yes...it was liquid pigeon butt-juice.  I also noticed a bit of the dark broon on my thumb.

Amanda came back out and began wiping the mound off of my shoulder.  A lump of it landed on my arm, adding a bit of insult to injury.  I grabbed a napkin and wiped off my head and neck.

Jim mentioned that he was on the verge of getting sick.  I mentioned that it was strange how the shit never smelled.  How does shit not stink?  It makes me wonder if this is true of all birds or is it just pigeons?  Or was it just this particular pigeon...or just this particular pigeon's singular poop?

This isn't a science project I think I'm going to study any time soon, it just made me wonder.  By the way, I hit up Brooklyn Industries on the corner of the block and got a new shirt.  So it wasn't all bad!  And if getting shit on by a bird is good luck, I should be the luckiest mofo in the world with the amount of shit with which I was hit!

It's paid for! Now get rid of it!

For those of you who read this on a regular basis, you'll know that I had a bit of trouble with keeping my car out of the hands of NYC's fucked up punishment system.

Quick recap:

Got a ticket on my birthday for no apparent reason, then got towed the following day (after moving my car to a location to avoid another ticket) to a location only revealed to me by a construction worker who was directing traffic and only after speaking to several NYC police precincts who could all tell me nothing except to walk around and look for my car...which I did...twice.

So, after that experience, and then waking up one morning to walk the dogs and finding a van parked on my car, we have now decided to get rid of our Yaris...just two months after paying it off.

What's that?  Oh, yeah!  The van!

I got up and threw on some clothes and shoes and took Abby and Red out to use the sidewalk (and a small tree that Red is bound and determined to piss to death).  My car was parked directly in front of my apartment building.  Now, as a general rule, people are basically allowed one tap when parallel parking.  That's a tap to the bumper of the car in front of and behind you while trying to park.  Most people in New York have guards on their bumpers to avoid scratches.  The ones that don't have bumpers that look like scratching posts for a litter of kittens.

This particular day there was a black van actually backed completely up to where their back bumper was literally touching my front bumper over the span of a good two feet or more.  Needless to say, this bothered me.  Then I look inside the van to see a guy sleeping in the passenger seat.  So I knocked on the window.  He stirred and sluggishly pulled himself up from his reclined seat and opened the door.

"Do you think you could get someone to move the van up so your not sitting on top of my car?"

He looked confused.

So I explained further, "Your van is literally touching my car."  He slowly drug himself out of the van and shuffled to the back to see what I was talking about.  Without even a word, he turned to get back in the van.  At this point Red, my bigger dog, jumped at him and barked...he agreed that it was fucked up for these guys to be parked this way.  I pulled back on Red's leash to let the passenger get by.

Suddenly the driver sits up out of nowhere and starts up the van.  I had no idea there was even a driver in there!  He pulls up a foot or so and they look to me for approval.  I nod my head and return my attention to my dogs, and the return to their slumber.

As for the car, there is a bit of a light scratch that spans the length of where the van was parked on it.  It's enough to piss me off, but that's about it.

The fact is, there really is no need for a car in NY.  There are Zip cars and rentals and an amazing public transportation system.  At this point it only really serves as a target for people in black vans!

After these incidents, realizing our lack of need, and the quotes on how expensive insurance is in NY, we've decided to just let the car go.

My brother is in need of a car, so I offered it to him...but it looks like he'd rather have a car payment than take mine off my hands.

It's okay, though, because my in-laws would also like to have it to bring to their house in Florida to have when they are down there.

I do find it interesting that I'm trying to give my car away to family member in need and I have to have a back-up plan just in case...oh well!  Not my loss...or is it?

That Shit was Ill, Yo!

I got out of the apartment last night and joined my buddy, The Jim Cremins, for an evening of short films and stage productions put on by Left Hip Productions.  They had a great concept and the execution was amazing considering the lack of budget for the videos.  All in all, it was a great night.  I hope to join up with them in the future to collaborate on a few projects.

So, after the show, Jim and I walked up to Times Square and caught our respective trains home.  Him on the N train to Queens and me on the N train to Brooklyn.  As we approached the stairs leading down to our platforms, my train arrived.  I said a quick good-by to Jim, exchanged a pound, and hauled ass down the stairs.  A mob was already awaiting the N train on the platform, so as soon as the doors slid open, the cars filled up.  I was (un)lucky enough to jump on the last car.  Being able to take the N train all the way home is a blessing.  Otherwise, I would have to stop at Atlantic/Pacific in Brooklyn and transfer to the R train.  On late nights, the N train runs all of the R train stops, so I was able to "settle" in for the ride all they way home.  I took my lean in one of the corners of the train car and pulled out my phone to complete a crossword puzzle or two on the ride back.

Now, typically, the trains aren't quiet.  People talk.  Some talk on cell phones.  Others to one another.  Some are paranoid schizophrenics who talk to people who aren't even there.  This particular night there was a large black family that took up a good deal of the end of the car I happened to occupy as well.  When I say they were a large family, I mean that in both quantity and size.  Along with this mass came the boisterous voices of women talking about some trifling "ni**a (that) be cheatin all the time!"  Now, usually I'm not bothered by loud people (except kids...kids that are loud are often obnoxious), however this woman just had this attitude and voice about her that just got under my skin.

Okay, now combine that woman with the large Asian family that was standing up across from me at my end of the car.  Now when I say large, I only mean in quantity.  These were the wiry semi-dorky Asian types.  The dad was loud as hell, too...but he was speaking a different language.

So now I have Miss Air-Out-All-My-Shit-And-Not-Give-A-Fuck versus Mr. Loud-Foreign-Language-Guy.  Every now and then Loud-Foreign-Language-Guy would pull ahead, but mainly because he was so close to me and was trying to entertain his kids by fake fighting with them...seriously!  Like making hitting noises and using his legs to throw his kids around!  It was like some insane training for reject Spartans!

Miss Air-Out-All-My-Shit-And-Not-Give-A-Fuck pretty much maintained the lead by informing the entire train that this guy was a dumb-ass and that his "boo" became suspicious about some phone calls that kept coming in and he tried saying it was bill collectors.  Apparently this tactic doesn't work.  Also, apparently if you're attractive it's a pass to cheat...or at least be forgiven for cheating.  This woman went on about how "he uh ugly ni**a, too!"  I guess ugly people don't get a pass.

At some point, the Asian family forfeited and left the train, allowing Miss Air-Out-All-My-Shit-And-Not-Give-A-Fuck to do her victory lap which included talking over the conductor.  I don't know how many NYC subways you've been on, but when a conductor talks over the loudspeaker, it's near impossible to understand him/her.  Couple that with the fact that they usually choose to use the loudspeaker when the door are wide open and another train is passing on a nearby track and it gets even more difficult.  Now add this loud mouth bitch into the equation and I didn't hear a damn thing the conductor said!

This can be kinda important since the conductor will often announce that we can all go fuck ourselves and find a different way home since this particular train will only go to two more stops.  Luckily this turned out not to be the case...this time.  And the woman kept jawing.

By then, I'd managed to get so upset by these loud individuals that I'd broken into a sweat and had troubles concentrating on my crosswords.  Allow me to share a quote from a psychopath in a fictional film:

On the subway today, a man came to me to
                   start a conversation.  He made small talk,
                   this lonely man, talking about the weather
                   and other things.  I tried to be pleasant
                   and accommodating, but my head began to
                   hurt from his banality.  I almost didn't
                   notice it had happened, but I suddenly
                   threw up all over him.  He was not pleased,
                   and I couldn't help laughing.

...I wanted to throw up on this woman.  I literally felt nauseous, leaning in my corner, drenched in a cold sweat.  My stomach began to turn and my head felt lighter by the minute.  I eventually returned my phone to the lower right cargo pocket of my shorts and held on, trying not to think about the bile I wished to spew on this woman.  She had been drowning me in her filth for 20 minutes.  The least I could do was return the favor.  

Finally I came to my stop and quickly exited the train.  I made my way up the stairs and breathed in the cool, fresh air.  I felt the evening breeze bringing relief to my dampened skin.  And, finally, I went home.

New Yorkers are such assholes!!

Amanda and I loved to come up to New York and visit before we moved here.  It seemed like every time we came up here, there was some pompous know-it-all asshole in the subway trying to help us when we couldn't find our way around town through the rail system!  I mean, the audacity of these people to ask us if we need help just because we're looking at a map!

Oh!  And then there was the day we were meeting up with a friend who was in town visiting.  We had just moved to Brooklyn and could officially consider ourselves "New Yorkers" when we popped out of the subway downtown Manhattan and this old guy, who was ordering some other poor person around (probably some tourist!), took my momentary pause to orientate myself as me not knowing where to go and demands to help out.  Being the southern gentleman that I am and not wanting to be a dick, I kindly tell him we just need to find south.  This prick not only guides me south, but explains the cross streets and "helps" me get my orientation.

And just the other day, there was a group of Asian teens cutting up and goofing off on the F train when an elderly woman got on at one of the stops.  This one kid had the gall to get up and let her have his seat!  Like she can't stand or something!  Like her fucking legs are broken!

I'm getting too worked up over this...I'll report more later.  Fuckin' New Yorkers!

Je Suis Fatigué.

It's been a bit since I've been able to blog.  I went back to Charlotte, NC for Brennan and Hannah Roth's wedding.  It was awesome!  It was also really nice to get back to Charlotte for a few days and catch up with some friends and actually drive a car around town!

Amanda and I went by our old house.  It was a bit weird, but I didn't really have the emotional response I thought I might.  I think this entire move to NY is still a bit surreal.  Leaving NYC for five days, then returning to our Brooklyn apartment definitely helps make New York feel more like home.

So, nobody told me to stop talking about our move-in experience, therefore I will pick up where I left off on my last check-in.

(Brief note: When we came back home from the wedding, there was still nothing express about the Staten Island Expressway.  In fact, we found that they even mock us by posting 50 mph speed limits.)

Okay, the move in.  As I stated in my last blog, we made it to our new apartment at 7:00pm.  The suck thing is, we were supposed to be here at 6:30pm for the two guys that we hired to help us move in.  By the time we got here and got the truck in position and the keys to our apartment, it was close to 7:30.  As this was a Saturday, our hired help had to be done by 8:00, but agreed to stay until 8:30 to help us out.  Since we got such a late start, we asked them to focus on the big stuff.

We are on the top floor of a four story walk up...with a narrow stairwell.  I know you're thinking, "That sucks, but you have help, so it shouldn't be too bad.  All you have to do is grab the small stuff."

And you would be totally correct in thinking that, if, the day prior we hadn't had to spend half a day in Charlotte heat and humidity packing the truck!  Then driving an hour to Waxhaw only to load more into the truck.  Then stay up way too late to get as much family time in as we could before we went to bed, got up way too early and spent way too long on the road driving.  By the time we got to Brooklyn all we wanted to do was get a bite to eat, lay down and go to sleep.  But no...we still had to move our stuff up three flights of stairs and into our new home.  AND...because the staircase was so narrow and the help limited, I had to jump in on several occasions to help get the big stuff upstairs.

About half way through, Amanda and I were beyond exhausted.  Our legs were on the verge of giving out.  We just didn't have it in us anymore, physically.  So I called for backup.  Joey Westcott became our savior that night!!  He showed up and just jumped in!  He was grabbing stuff and running upstairs and setting it down.  He was like Superman to our Handyman.  We couldn't have finished without him!

One of our movers made a deal with me...he would give me another 15 minutes if I would allow him to use our restroom to freshen up so he could get to Manhattan.  I would be an idiot to deny him!  Even if he couldn't give me the extra 15 minutes, I would be an asshole to deny him!  By the time the movers were done, all of our big items were in the apartment.  Joey stuck it in there with us until it was over completely.  Just as we were grabbing the last of the small stuff, the rain started.  It held off as long as it could.

For anyone out there that thinks all New Yorkers are just a bunch of assholes, let me give you a different idea of what I've experienced.  As the movers and I were trying to figure out where to pull the truck up to be as close as possible to the building, one of my neighbors came out to help.  He moved his car, then his motorcycle.  He opened the gate in front of my building and helped guide the truck back into the driveway.  When we finished up, he came back to help close everything up and get the truck out.  That was just our first experience with New Yorkers.  There will be more to come...

With love,

Your NYC Scrub