4.23.2015
I know this is Brooklyn, but COME ON!
I really thought that I might bring a little Minnesota nice to this city, but today, TODAY! Brooklyn has gotten to me. Parents, grandparents, avert your eyes from this entry, and know...I'm ok...just ornery.
I feel like Brooklynite hipsters, more then any other category of city dwellers, feel they have something to prove, just by walking down the street...how they are dressed, how they walk, what their bike looks like, what music they're blaring from their speakers in their backpack...yeah, there's a lot going on with ones personal style, however! COME ON PEOPLE! SHOW SOME BLEEPING COURTESY! GROW THE BLEEP UP! BE BLEEPING NICE!
- Do NOT order food or beverage until you are FINISHED with your phone conversation. I don't care who you bleeping are and what city you bleeping live in, that is BLEEPING RUDE! I also don't care what you bleeping do for a living and how much money you bleeping make, you are disrespecting the food server you are ordering from by continuing your conversation in front of them and involving them into your bleeping horrible sounding life you are living...you bleeping need some yoga or massage or meditation in your life you big bleep. This also goes for people talking into their headphones....you are bleeping ordering from me! Not the guy on the phone! Shame on you! Go bleep yourself!
- Fixie Bikers, I know you are in a hurry, but when a women is crossing the street with a stroller and a small child holding her hand, you bleeping stop! The appropriate thing is to let them cross! Particularly when they have the right of way! Also...what's the bleeping hurry? What are you sooooo late to that you want to run over a mother and her children? Where's the bleeping fire? You need to go have a flat white at a certain time so that you are properly caffeinated for the afternoon and don't miss happy hour an hour later exactly because you can't afford a beer in this city? ...ok...I sympathize with you on that one....but seriously, slow the bleep down once in a while. Enjoy the bleeping view you bleep! YOU are the ones giving bikers a bad rap! Grow a pair! Be NICE!
- If you order 4 lattes and five cookies and hold up a line of 5 people by doing so, with 3 of them leaving before they order, tip. Especially if you're bleeping rude. Karma is so so going to bleep you, you big, big, bleep.
Other Brooklyn lessons of the week....I learned the hard way.
- Do NOT look confused looking for the bathroom at a public library....a scary homeless person will try to assist you! Aka...attempt to hold your hand, ask you why you aren't in school and lead you to the little girls private bathroom in the childrens section....unfortunately, true story. I'm retiring my Mary Jane's...I blame them for this situation entirely. When I explained what happened to Rodolfo later, a stranger in front of us on the sidewalk literally turned around and stared at me listening into my encounter...so so so creepy.
- Do NOT be offended that the street vendor who's been saying hello to you...me...every day when I bike by them, and didn't recognize me today because I was wearing pants instead of a skirt with tights..well...I guess legs speak louder than words....they also get tipped more...note to self!
- Do NOT get frustrated at biking in this city. Pot holes. Broken glass. People 'emergency parking' in the bike lane. People turning right without looking. People J walking without looking. This is part of the biking experience. It is ok! The fact that point B was reached eventually from point A and no one was injured, particularly me, is a feat in itself! Well done you! Pat on the back. Here. Here! Pajamas and beer time are in order upon reaching final destination! .....Along with bitch blogging apparently....
and then...there's just the weird stuff....
Old men have special giant brushes for their cars here! I've seen it multiple times now! The car is parked, not going anywhere and an older gentleman gets a giant bristled brush out of their trunk and proceeds to brush their car off! It's a dusty city I must admit. Talk about car love!
Dogs with outfits and booties. I'm a little sad that winter is over, because that means the booties are gone! I love a weenie dog in sweater and matching booties, ....it just gets me. those little teeny booties! I mean, come on!!!!!
Lastly, this is aimed at that dude playing the crazy bleep music while biking down Franklin tonight. If you are playing music, out loud, where a human being is howling, followed by a sitar.....yeah, I'm not passing you, I'm gonna follow right behind you until you turn, because dude.....that bleep is crazy! You are OBVIOUSLY in need of some attention, because I heard something howl in the direction of your butt and I aint going no where until I figure out what your deal is....or you turn right towards downtown Brooklyn and disappoint me, probably because you think I'm a weirdo like that guy at the library and you're wigged out that I've been staring interestedly at your ass for the last half mile.
WHERE IS THE MUSIC COMING FROM?!? AND WHY IS YOUR BUTT HOWLING AT ME?!?
To end, a quote from my favorite customer today!
"Oh wow! Look...you made like a leaf shaped thing, instead of that giant blob like last week!"
- Describing my latte art abilities
- I did not choose this career path, this career chose me damn it!
- If everyone just drank tea, the world would be a better place
NAMASTE you bleeping hipsters.
peace out.
4.19.2015
Elevators
So. After getting home yesterday from a beautiful bike ride, it was time to take the elevator in my building up to the 5th floor with the bike.
After holding the door of the elevator open for a man in crutches, I declined his offer of going up with him, because I didn't want to crowd him with my bike.
When I road up at last it stopped at the fourth floor where a women was waiting to go down.
She asked "down?" I said, "nope. Up" The door closed, and then.....nothing. like. Nothing. I stood for a minute. Literally 60 seconds holding my breath. Then I started swearing and muttering and sweating, muttering some more. It had never paused this long before.
I fanned myself with a large advertisement for pizza I'd just picked up from the mailbox and then pressed the 5 button again....
Waited.
Then proceeded to press it...more! (Think 20 times?)
What feels like 5 minutes pass which in real time is probably 1.
Then the yelling started but in an awkward apologetic way....
"Is anyone out there? Hello? Anyone? I'm stuck in the elevator! Cab you hear me?!?" A little more silence goes by along with panting...then I text my husband who happens to be in Spain..
Hi. I'm stuck in our elevator.
Whoa! he writes back.
So it's getting pretty warm at this point. I have no idea where the heat is coming from, so I automatically assume that it's the elevator wires going out and I'm about to drop to my doom. An elevator can overheat? Maybe!
So. I press all the buttons. 1,2,3,4.....of course the door open button doesn't work. Of course, which I also try 20 times, willing it to work with my mind.
More apologetic yelling...anyone there? Anyone out there? And some pawing of the door like a desperate kitten. Tap. Tap. Knock knock knock. Hello? (Think of that scene in 6th sense where the boy is trapped in the box, and then just stops all the sudden) that was me.
Suddenly there's a little voice of a man, probably a teenager waiting for the elevator a floor below..."hit the button lady!"
I whisper ...Oh. sure. Yeah. Ok.
Because obviously there is now a magic button I'm unaware of that I should be pushing that would get me out of this small overheating box of death.
I don't even respond. I just start pushing every button I can. I'd been avoiding the alarm button, because the Minnesotan in me refuses to make a fuss yet. I'll wait a good 5 minutes more before really losing my shit by jove.
I'd already tried the help button, which is of course disconnected. (Just so everyone knows that...yeah....help button...no help will be coming any time soon people!)
I slump to the floor.
Finally, a few minutes later, I have reached total freakout and it's time to hit the alarm button, which is how I find out, it's the equivalent to a school bell ringing, no phone call to the fire fighters, no person running to my aid. I'm on my own. I press it a few times for a few seconds. It does absolutely nothing. Just noise. An alarm it truly is. Like your wake up alarm that no help is comng. No help, just a lot of annoyed neighbors trying to ignore me and hoping I stop ringing that obnoxious bell.
At this point in real time I'm 10 minutes in breathing heavily sitting on the floor of my personal dooms day machine sweating like a pig. Then Rodolfo texts me a thought to ponder, he writes to just give it a few minutes and maybe it will reactivate. The electro engineer that he is, this gives me hope.
2 seconds. 2 flipping seconds later, without any noise, the doors magically open....yes, a happy ending!
Kind of....
They haven't opened since. The elevator doesn't work. I saw a lot of cranky old people carrying up their groceries in their carts up the stairs, not to mention the joy it will be to carry my bike 5 flights up this evening, or Rodolfo coming home from the airport with two overloaded suitcases.
No one said this move was going to be easy. Character building! Self confidence. This is all a test of what I'm truly made of. True grit. That's me.
2.17.2015
2.14.2015
1.25.2015
January
1.17.2015
A shout out to Restaurant Cooperativa de Pescadores
1.02.2015
Ripe vs. Cozy
A latte
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