Mememe

mememe
Originally uploaded by Dripping from a Vine Leaf.

Just testing.

That's me. In London. With a drink in my hand as per usual. Note to all readers (the four of you that there are), drinking could be one of my favorite hobbies. Preferably red wine on a cold winter's night or a strong rum and diet when I'm out and about (I believe that is what I'm drinking in this photo).

Today is one of those days when I'm feeling good about life. Could be the several glasses of wine I've already imbibed this evening or the fact that tomorrow starts a two-week holiday. Life is good.

It feels like Sunday in New York

When I woke up and turned on the news this morning and learned that the TWU workers ended up striking last night at 3am, I was secretly jumping for joy. That is until I remembered that I failed to bring home my laptop last night. Hello long walk downtown. But as I emerged from my apartment on 9th Avenue, the street looked strange. I expected masses of people to be flooding up, down and crosstown. Yet, there were only a few lone pedestrians braving the cold and summing up the energy to make it to work just 5 days before Christmas. It really was like a Sunday morning in New York.... that is until I reached the parking lot that was the northbound West Side Highway.

60 minutes of a frigid walk gave me some time to ponder the strike itself. There are three pretty big sticking points:

1) TWU workers want a pay increase of 8% a year - WHAT? I don't even get an 8% increase a year and I have a master's degree!

2) The MTA wants the TWU workers to start contributing to healthcare - With the way healthcare costs are rising, EVERYONE has to contribute these days so I say suck it up.

3) The MTA wants to increase the retirement age from 55 to 62 - Hello, no one retires at 55 anymore - People live longer these days, get married later, have children later and have access to incredible preventative medicine. Case in point - my dad just retired at 67 and he gets healthier by the day!

And to note, points 2 and 3 are for NEW TWU workers - not the ones who are striking today. So they are losing their pay (and being fined for that matter) for folks who don't even work for the MTA yet. Silly? No, downright stupid.

But more than the inane demands set forth by the union, my problems lie with the fact that these workers provide a vital service to the function of the city. They are shutting down critical routes, putting first responders at risk of not being the first responders, depleting the city of something like $100 million a day in lost revenues and much more. What about the little old lady who has home-care and whose nurse cannot make it in to feed her? What about a fire that cannot be reached by firetrucks due to congestion on every street and avenue? And worse, what if people actually had to get out of the city quickly? It would be forced anarchy.

So, for today, I'm content to be sitting in a half-empty office. But I hope, for the sake of everyone else, that the strike is short and life soon goes back to normal.

And we all have a very Merry Christmas :)

The Last Straw

This is a true story.

Earlier tonight I was walking home, bundled in my North Face 600 count down parka, listening to the Counting Crows on my iPod. As I was walking up 8th Avenue, I was trying to embrace the holiday spirit. Couples were buying Christmas trees on 18th street while lone shoppers made their way to restaurants or to the warmth of their homes. Observing the frigid air, I was thankful for my short walk and warm clothes.

At 21st street, a homeless man was approaching. I started to feel sad that he was unbundled, alone and that he reeked of despair. And I finally thought I caught some of that warm fuzzy December feeling. At least I was feeling at all. But just as the homeless man and I passed each other, he turned to his left and spit in my face. He spit. In My Face.

And that my friends, is the last straw. I thought the waterfall ceiling was my breaking point, but now even the two months of wet mildew have been trumped. My days in NYC are numbered and the countdown to my one-way exit has begun.

Insomnia

2005 is ready to be over. Finito. Fertig. Done. Is it just me or has this year dragged on in such slow motion that not only will ringing in 2006 be anticipatory, exciting and fun, but an exhausting relief at the same time?

I don't think I am the only awaitor of fresh starts. Hell has set down upon most of my friends in the recent months, only exacerbating the need for change.

For starters, I have been trying to leave NYC since March. An innocent ski trip to Vail was the necessary ammunition to get me to see that life exists outside of the Apple. Nature thrives and the straight variety of men are abundant. More recently I've actually put the pipe dream to action with job interviews. Interviews where I've prepared like I own the company: I've read books, articles, interviewed competitors, prepared SWOT analyses, developed strategy plans and short of writing a full on deck, I ran circles around some of my interviewers. However, even that kind of over-the-top preparation does not guarantee a position. I am, after 3 months in the process, STILL in the process. And this, above all else, causes me extreme amounts of stress.

In addition, I've actually had to live like a nomad for the past 2 months. Wiser folks may already know that living month-to-month, without a lease, and with the requirement to pay cash to your landlord for rent is a recipe for disaster. And I mean disaster in the literal sense. On October 11, the monsoons came to New York. I'm not talking a few inches, I am talking dreadful sheets of rain. The type of rain that umbrellas fear and even ponchos can't compete. We had over 18 inches in total, primarily in the last 2 weeks of October. And because I live in a cheap and faulty apartment on the top floor of my building, the normally slightly drippy ceiling gave way - to streams of water from the roof straight to about 14 buckets, pails and bowls below - all in the privacy of my living room. The situation worsened and the smell turned from rainy to mildewy to plain sour. I was relegated to my room, specifically my bed - to eat, sleep, entertain and exist. Grand Sichuan never knew a better customer and I couldn't be more unhappy. The landlord continued with his empty promises of fixing the building the next week ... or two ... or three. Finally, the roofmen came to do their deed. And then, I was temporarily evicted until the roof was complete and the apartment was back to normal. That was two months ago, and I have just moved back in. The joys of living in New York.

My final straw is the perturbation I have with most people I know at the moment. Why is everyone pissing me off? Cover charges, bad planning, poor communication, self-centeredness, loud mouths, stupid conversations, wasting time... the list could go on. And the damn tourists! You and your slow-moving fat asses are not welcome on the sidewalks that people actually use to walk (not waddle) to work. I am officially going to hell after that comment.

I guess that's why 2005 should just be over. I have never anticipated a new year with such hope and excitement as I do 2006. My insomnia might possibly go away... and leave me with contented dreams of a life that I actually like.

The bipolar bartender

I've been frequenting my favorite local bar for over two years. It's a full-on Irish pub with an intellectual side. It attracts both the Chelsea-gallery snobs as well as Chelsea Piers soccer teams. And the music they play is outstanding.

My favorite bartender, Ryan, is also Irish and he knows me by name. He's extremely cute, and young with an adorable (albeit rough) Irish accent. He says "tree" instead of "three", "mudder" instead of "mother" - you get the idea. And Ryan is bipolar.

Ryan loves me (doesn't everyone?) when I sit at the bar with a girlfriend or 4 and proceed to order glass after glass of wine. Not like getting sloshed is my normal MO, but it seems to happen every now and then. I get the kiss on the cheek, special treatment, and plenty of free drinks. I get conversation, flirtation and libation from a man who gets cuter and cuter as the night goes on. Inevitably the conversation turns to how great Ryan would be.... naked. Ahem. Not the point of this blog.

Every now and then I will drop in with a guy. I've been there with guy friends and dates alike. In almost a compulsory fashion, Ryan transforms like Jekyll to Hyde. He's cold to me and even colder to my date. Case in point. Just last evening my date waited for at least 15 minutes on an empty bar to place his order. Then, contradictory to his usual friendly bartender-etiquette, Ryan forces a card down on the tab - never has he asked that of the girls before. Ryan gives no love, no talking, and clearly no flirtation. I guess that's expected, given I'm with another guy. However, he took it too far. Gratuitously flirting with the waitresses and other patrons, avoiding eye contact, making it clear through body language that he wanted us to leave.

I think Ryan, being the head-bartender that he is, just likes to be in control of his bar and the women who frequent it. I mean if you were a bartender and you had this big block of wood (no pun intended) between you and plenty of drunken females, wouldn't you want to keep a few for yourself? Everytime one of your 'regulars' enters with another man, you are threatened. No longer can you attempt to get a late night booty call after hours.

One time I stopped by with the short man (see the BF blog for details) and he gave my date, the short man, the most disrespecting, contemptuous, I-am-better-than-you look that I've ever seen. And then, without skipping a beat, he gave me the I-can't-believe-you-are-with-him coupled with a I-thought-you-were-better-than-that look. WOW. Did I want to leave right then and there or what?

So therefore, my diagnosis of Ryan, the head-hot-bartender, is that he's bipolar. What else can explain his truly diametric disposition?

Thankfully, I've never gone 'there' with Ryan. It has crossed my mind, and the minds of the scores of women who sit in small groups along his wooden bar. For now, I'll just be a sweet customer and will forego bringing any dates to this little Irish haunt. And in return, I will get the attention and free drinks that I deserve.

Upgrade mode

A guy friend once told me that the single New York City male is always in "Upgrade Mode". I asked him, "what on earth is Upgrade Mode"? What I found out will crush the hopes of anyone from the single NYC female persuasion of ever landing a relationship.

1) The single NYC male (SNYCM) will date as many women as possible. Depending on their place on the totem pole*, they can date anywhere between 2 and 10 women at a time. However, variations have been seen upwards of 20 women. OUCH!

2) The SNYCM will unfailingly require that the women he dates are at least 2 notches better looking than he, on a 10 point scale.

3) The SNYCM does not care what you do for a living. So don't think your fancy law degree will get you anywhere. To the SNYCM you're at the same starting line as the clerk who works at the Gap.

4) The SNYCM may narrow down his dating pool from time to time to just a few lucky females. However, he will at all times be looking to improve, or upgrade if you will, his harem.

5) The SNYCM will remain in single status until, on average, he is 42 years old, when at that point, he will decide that it is time to 'settle down'.

What's a Girl to do?
So I asked my friend, "What's a girl to do? - I mean, with this kind of situation, I'm never gonna find a man" The advice I received was even more appalling than the offending comment!

He said to buck-up, go out and deal with it. Thanks.

So here's my take on "Upgrade Mode".

1) Yes, every guy looks around. But once they find a girl they find attractive, they're going to hedge. Only the complete slimeballs will unabashedly sleep around.

2) I agree on the looks comment - Take a walk down say, 3rd avenue one day, you'll see hot women with not-so-hot men.

3) I'd say 85% of the SNYCM care that you are not a complete box of rocks. Do you even want to go there with the insecure remainder?

4) See comment #1

5) I just do not have enough data points here. However, it is increasingly apparent to me that all of my friends who live outside NYC are married, while all of my friends inside NYC are not. Coincidence? All I have to say is be aware of your situation and be prepared to get out if necessary!


* Totem pole: The looks-wealth multiplier. In NYC, wealth is weighted 2-1 over looks; the higher the multiplier, the higher on the totem pole the male will be.

Inconsideration

I'm usually pretty easy-going. Recently though, a few events have gotten my goat.

I swear I'm not a wedding crasher
Inviting me without a date to your wedding. That's ok when you are 23 and weddings are all about getting loaded and hooking up with the groom's best man's cousin's brother. But not at all when it is 6 years later, there are no single men to speak of and hangovers take 3 days of recovery time.

And not a stalker either
Not returning the 4 phone calls I left after my day-long interview with you and your company. You flew me out. You paid for the flight, hotel, food, taxi. I met with 8 people over the course of 8 hours. And you don't have the courtesy to even give me a graceful thumbs down. Twisted asses.

... I guess, unfortunately for you (or fortunately for me), I don't have any more complaints for this particular blog tonight. Stay tuned for inconsiderate updates...

It's my "Office"

You know how they promote the guy who doesn't care anymore? Well, that is me today. I checked out of this job a long time ago. And today, I just got promoted.

The only thing has kept me going are the amusing games I play. My favorite is: "How fake can I be?". I measure the success of this game on how much I can smile, nod and act like I'm interested in everything My Boss (MB) is saying and subsequently, how much (MB) likes me. It's a pretty fun game and I get really excited when MB says things like "I really love working with you" and "You are a great asset to the team". Scoring goes like this:

1 pt: A Smile, Nod, or anything in agreement with MB.
3 pts: A smile or nod in return from MB; a "You're great...No, you're great...No, you're great" scenario.
5 pts: When another team member notices/comments on how great we get along.
7 pts: When MB explicity states what a great attitude I have.
10 pts: When I officially get recognized for all of my hard work. Yay, reward me!!

I think it is so ironic that you can get ahead just by smiling and nodding. Is that all it takes? Does the work I do really matter? Well the answer to that is clearly NO as evidenced by the following game:

"How little work can I do and still get by". Scoring is easy here.

1 pt: Not doing something I am told to do.
- 2pts: When whatever I didn't do backfires and I have to do it anyway.

So far, I'm in the black.