Congrats! Its a BOY!

No, I am not going to be a dad.  God knows the world does not need a curly head, swedish kid with ADD running around my apartment right now.  But, I did get something.  A football team.  

The Giants are going to the Superbowl this weekend.  I have never been a football guy myself.  Maybe some "foot bol" as in my home land sport of "Soccer", but not much into the American version.  But I think this has a lot to do with being in Souther Cali.  We have not had a football team since OJ was dating white chicks. So maybe this week, I will be around a vibe of "home team" spirit.  If not, I will change the channel and watch some "Home Improvement" re-runs.

Location! Location! Lo-Damn it!

New york has something for everyone.  One friend said it best "No matter what you are in to, this city has it."

It's true.  This city does have a lot to offer.  But, being spoiled in Southern California, I reflected on things I miss.  Here they are.

IKEA - IKEA here are placed in Jersey.  That's not bad, but for someone who does not have a car, its like asking someone in Santa Monica to go shopping downtown and not use a vehicle.

They do have a "free" bus on weekends that takes you to IKEA and back.  Also, the 46 minute train ride to Hicksvilles (that's right Hickslville) is not too shabby, but will put you $12 in the hole.  That may not seem like much, but that can feed a whole Scandinavian family at IKEA if you buy those delicious 6 piece meatball plates they serve by the check out.  They cost like $1.99 and taste like Swedish Chef made them with his own polyester hands himself.

IKEA is great for New Yorkers because it is made of light easy furniture (will have a whole section regarding my couch about that later).

COLD STONE ICE CREAM - There are two things here in NY that you can find on every corner besides a cab and a guy selling fake Prada bags.  That is a Baskin Robins and a Dunkin Donuts.  I am not sure why they come together but they are always built into one another.  Who would ever go inside and say "I am so cold, I need hot cofee.  Now I finished my hot coffee and need something to cool me, give that cactus flavored ice cream". 

I really do miss coldstone.  The closest one is like 10 blocks away.  Sure, 10 blocks is nothing.  Heck, I walk more than that to work.  But usually I get ice cream cravings when I am either 1) lazy as hell or 2) in pajamas in front of my TV watching Family Guy.  So going 10 blocks in either of those scenarios is outrageous.

CELEBS - I had my first NYC celebrity sighting on my first week here.  It was Eric Bana.  In the celebrity world, he is on the same list as Emilio Esteves and the dad from "Alf".  Mr. Bana in my opinion is not a celebrity.  He is a guy on the TV. Like my newscaster, or that guy at 4 AM who tries to sell me a broom that can be used as a plunger.   I miss real celebs.  Southern Cali celebs. I miss the Cam Diaz at a starbucks, or Tommy Lee at the  surf shop in Venice, or Halle Berry in a car (that has some people underneath it).  I miss the people I see on the Oscars.  I saw Oliver Stone a the Viceroy once.  that blew me away.  I saw Jack Nicholson and Johnny Depp.  Great people in film.  

Don't get me wrong.  New York has its share of great actors (Heath Ledger comes to mind).  But they are a lot harder to see.  In such a small island, it is so much harder to find that celeb sighting.  I guess that is a good thing.  After all, who needs 34 paparazzis chasing a girl down a street just because she didn't take care of her kids.  Heck, out in some parts of this country, that is totally normal.

Finally: THE BEACH:  You know, they always say "You never know what you got until its gone".  Forget that.  "You never know what you had until you move to a worst climate".  I lived close to the ocean in Cali and was visiting the beach maybe two times every three months.  Now I live in New York and I keep telling myself that the minute I get out to Cali to visit, first thing I do is go to the beach.  NY does not lack a beach, it lacks the easy way to get there.  In LA, you go over Topanga canyon or take the 405 to the 10 and no matter where you come from, 15 minutes places you sand side.  But here, you have to take a bus or a cab to the Hamptons.   Sure we have beaches in long island, but again, like IKEA, its a train ride.  You basically have to leave your house at 7 am to walk the 20 minutes to Penn Station and then take the 40 minute train ride, just to be at the beach.  I miss the sun and waves and all the little families of like 17 people that come to the sand with everything from their home (oven, grill, fridge, bed).  

Alcohol + Moving Train = Good Story

Weekends in Manhattan are alive.  People walking to their favorite retail store.  Dog walkers taking their best friends to Central Park to play.  Shady crooks scoping out the tourists to see who will be easy to "Oliver Twist".  

And then we have the drunks.  

Drunks don't care what day it is, as long as its not Sunday.  This is mostly because in some places in the city, means that the wine stores are closed and makes it a bit more difficult for them to get some Jesus juice.

So Karin and I are waiting on the 3 train to go downtown to 14th street.  Its Sunday afternoon, so the amount of people waiting with us is not too bad.  As people come in, I love watching them.  A couple who are obviously not from here (he wore a huge cowboy hat while she had bangs the size of a small tent).  You have the construction worker who is dropping "F" bombs on his cell phone while eating a sandwich.  

Then....well, we have the drunk.

This guy looked like he got kicked out of a James Brown concert in 1968 and been drinking ever since (without ever changing his clothes).  This guy walks in through the gate to the train station so drunk, Tara Reid would have asked him to check into rehab.  I don't think he could have walked on a straight line if it was 4 feet in width.  I am just saying, he was pretty drunk.

He walks over and leans on the wall.  I keep talking to Karin but every once in a while I look up. I am not sure why I look up at him.  Its kind of like a car accident on the freeway, you just have to look.  I look back to Karin as we continue to talk about rats that we saw earlier walking through the train tracks.  Suddenly, I hear a thump.  I turn around and look and there is our drunktard laying on the train track.  

For those not in NYC or never been, the subway comes equipped on the concrete with a giant yellow line.  This is the "Keep your ass behind this line" line.  Somehow, for a drunk person, it became the "Pool is beyond this line" line.  And this guy took a swan dive right into the empty pool and took his empty brain with him.  It took me a second to figure out what was going on. Perhapse he dropped his $2 train ticket (for an alcoholic, that's the cost of another Pabst Blue). Maybe he was tossed in by a mafia who he owes money.  Or maybe, just maybe, the guy is so drunk he decided to make out with the train tracks.  

Instincts take over guilt.  Guilt would have felt sorry for the guy but would have continued to watch.  Instinct reminded me that the 3 train was less than 3 minutes away and it usually comes at a good 60 miles an hour.

I run up and so does the construction worker and another guy.  The cowboy decided to leave the helpless to himself.  Makes sense.  The president of this country is a cowboy and he loves to leave helpless people behind too (see Iraq as well as Katrina victims).  We rush over and this guy (drunk boy) is still laying on the ground.  At first I thought "maybe he hit his head" but then I noticed he was moaning.  He was just half passed out, half resting.  

We all started telling eachother we have to get this guy in but he was a good eight feet underneath us.  The construction guy finally takes a leap of faith and stretches himself to the fake 1991 leather jacket this drunk bastard was in.  As soon as he grabbed him, I reached for his matching belt.  The third guy grabs me and helps me pull up.  It felt like it was taking hours to lift this guy.  He was not even trying to help himself out.  He kind of slothed out and let his weight drop against our lift.  We finally dragged his body onto the yellow line where he belonged and dragged his lazy body across the dusty floor to safety.  Once there, we all kind of let him go to let himself pick his body up and hopefully pick up some dignity with it.

The 3 train sure enough came not too shortly after.  The man mumbled a "Thanks man" under his Absolute breath and then got on the 3 train.  Karin and I waited for the next one.  

Moral to the story:  Always give a helping hand, otherwise...you are just another cowboy.

$24 and some change

Welcome.  This will be home to many of the crazy, interesting and funny stories that I will collect while living in New York.  Why did I name this place "24 dollars of trinkets"?

Well, $24 can get you a ride from midtown Manhattan to Williamsburg, Brooklyn.  Or even a brunch at Josie's on 3rd avenue.  It can get you a t-shirt at one of the many H&M stores here and it can also buy you enough Magnolia cupcakes to last aleast a week.  

But really, for the Dutch, 24 dollars worth of trinkets bought them an island.  That's right.  $24 is all the Native American inhabitants needed to sell Manhattan.   

So there you go.  $24 and some change and the Dutch get Manhattan.  24 weeks worth of paychecks, and I get a one bedroom the size of a California walk-in closet in East 39th.  "some change" is definitely the right words.