Raccoon Gets Mistaken As 50 Cent

Poor guy.  Yes, this is a Raccoon and YES he is in a tree on the Upper East Side.  This cool little dude was on 88th street and 1st ave. yesterday.  

Cops got there and decided to get him down by shooting tranquilizers at him.  Taking the same force they used on Sean Bell when they shot a man on his wedding night 50 times (about 48 shots too excessive), they shot the poor little Raccoon so many times that he died in custody.

According to reports, the cops shot tranquilizer darts so many times and so deep to his body that the animal control people (who got there after this happened) had to euthanize the little one because as they said "it would have been difficult, if not impossible to remove them (the darts)".

Some witnesses said the NYPD reacted very un-humanely and said that some of the police officers even joked about "harpooning" the raccoon.  

The NYPD was quoted with a response to the allegations by saying that the officers on site felt like the raccoon may be "Rabid" and were concerned it may have "rabies".

It is known that a raccoon hanging out in daylight is a sign of possibly having rabies.  Hanging in a tree on the Upper East Side on the other hand, is a sign you may get shot to death.

R.I.P. little buddy.

Throwing Mama On The Train

My mother will be landing at 5:30 am tomorrow.  She is currently in Israel where she was taking care of my grandmother.   My mother has not been to New York City since the late 80's. In the late 80's, Manhattan was a shithole.  Grafitti on the subways, crime was higher than it is now and everywhere smelled like the inside of an UGG boot if you took it running on a marathon.  

Before we moved to NYC, Wifey and I decided to not bring the car.  We will be living very close to my office and her school and New York is so expensive, there is really no need for a car.  I told my father I will be giving him my car (no, it was not as a gift.  My 1999 Kia Sportage had less use to it than an empty checkbook on the first of the month.  I was giving him garbage).  

A few days after telling that to my father, I got a call from my mother:

My Mother:  "After a long talk with your father, we have decided we will let you keep the car."

Me:  "But I don't want the car. It's New York.  I have to take out a second bank loan just to pay for parking there."

Mother: "But how will you get around? or go grocery shopping?"

Me: "uh, they have these nifty little things called the subway here mom"

Mother: "Oh no! My son is not taking the subway!  Those things are dangerous, and you can get into trouble".

You see, my mother has not been here since the mid 80's and the only thing she knows about New York is what she watches with my dad everytime CSI: NY or LAW & ORDER or CSI: SVU or any other crime show that happens to take place in NYC comes on.  Problem is, it's not that bad here.  Thousands of people take the subway every day.  Sure, some get robbed, some even fall onto the tracks (see: Alcohol + Moving Train = Good Story post), but this doesn't happen often.  

My mother cares, which is a good thing.  She should.  She is my mother.  But, I had to tell her that we will survive, and in fact, one of the main reasons this blog was started was to give my mother relief that I am ok by being able to see new posts come up every morning and let her have the peace of mind that her son has survived another night here.   

So she has been in Israel for a couple of weeks and she is finally making her way here to NYC.  My father asked me to go meet her at JFK (at 5:30 a.m.) so that she does not get lost.  I agreed since I do not want to get a call at 9 a.m. from my mother telling me she is lost somewhere of Bushwick.  I told my father we will probably take a taxi back but he said "No. Take her on the train".  At first I thought he was being cheap but then he continued, "Your mother needs to get the New York experience.  Take her to your house on the train.  It will be fun.  She will get to see what you go through every day and see that it isn't all that bad."

It made sense.  Then I came across this article on the news this morning:

"U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice was discussing terrorism with Ehud Barak, Wednesday, when an aide rushed in to inform the Israeli Defense Minister that Palestinian militants had just fired a rocket from Gaza into a woman's clinic located in a large shopping mall in the southern Israeli port city of Ashkelon. "Let's go down there together," Barak told Rice, according to an Israeli source. "I want you to see with your own eyes what we're going through."

I had to laugh.  You see, Mr. Barak is doing to Mrs. Rice what I will be doing with my mother tomorrow.  Nothing is better than to take someone into Ground Zero and let them see (as both my father and Mr. Barak have said) "what we're going through".

Israel and New York.  Both attacked by terrorists.  Both have more Jews than a Bat-Mitzva for the daughter of a Hollywood agent.  Both, have something that we "go through" that apparently requires first hand experience.  I think I will still take my mother by Taxi.  Not because I don't trust the train, the train is harmless.  I just think that after coming from a place where missles are landing, it would be nice to give my mother a nice ride in a taxi instead of subway.  After all, taking a taxi is an experience you have to see, to really know what it is "I go through".

 

Hi, I am a real person!

I miss my friends.  I have had a lot of "people I know" in my life, but I also had a dozen really awesome friends.  Over the past few years (mostly in the last 2 or 3) I have lost my friends to technology.

Five, six years ago, we would hang out on a porch drinking beer and telling stories.  Now, it seems the only contact I have with my friends is on either Myspace, Facebook or the gazillion other sites they tried to invite me to (Friendster, Twitter, etc).

I was a myspace whore for a while. I joined years ago (way before the annoying ads that give you seizures or the days that you go into your myspace inbox only to find 13 emails from chicks who have their ass in a thong as a photo and their email is a cookie-cutter text that basically says "come to my private page to see me without clothes").  I was a myspace whore who spent hours upon hours on it.  I even became one of those annoying myspace friends who would post bulletins 12 times a day and would reply to every comment with a comment and would add every band as a friend just so I can put "Jason Mraz" or "50 Cent" as my top 3 friends as if I am "tight like that" with them.

Over the past couple of years I noticed a trend.  Many of my friends who used to contact me via my regular email, have abandoned that idea to go to this world where people send you messages via myspace or facebook.  To me, that was annoying as hell.  For starters, these sites have a crappy inbox system, but I also don't log on daily to check them.  So invites to a basketball game because a buddy had an extra ticket, now goes unanswered because it didn't go to my gmail.  

I also lost my friends because they all went into this myspace, facebook world where some have to play these games, and surverys and crap like that.  "Oh, so and so has sent you a would-you-fuck-me-if-we-werent-friends survey along with a virtual shot drink of foreskin juice and vodka" and suddenly, if I don't respond or accept, I am not cool or I get a snark comment.

This does not apply to all my friends, but has definitely become a trend among some.  So today I took a time machine and decided to go back 5 years and get people to get intouch with me via email.  I don't want mass-emails like I got on myspace about "come check out my new photo of me farting on my roomate" .  I want personalized messages.  I feel like I lost connection with some friends due to the fact that these "social network sites" created this comfort level where you can send a message to all 415 friends on your list instead of individuals.  Suddenly, my friends have become telemarketing spammers who tell me about their weekend along with 400 other people.  What's the point?

So today I went ahead and deleted my Myspace and my Facebook account.  Done. Gone. Dead.

If anyone wants to get a hold of me, they should have my email or my cell.  If they don't, I probably didn't see you as worthy enough.  To be honest, when I closed my myspace account, I had 184 friends.  184.  I looked at the most recent contacts on my gmail of people I email regularly and it generated eight names.   EIGHT!   That means, I had over 170 people on myspace that I never talk to and never needed.  

Call me  a jerk, or call me the beginner of a revolution against social networking.  I just see it as trimming out the fat (or cutting out the weak players from the team).  Those who have my number or gmail, can get in touch with me next time they need me.  Otherwise, let them forever be happy with their 400 friends and their "Funniest Video I ever seen" bulletins.

peace

What The 'uck Are You Doing?

Anyone who was watching the season finale of Medium lastnight here in New York got a treat during a commercial break.  A promo for the 11 p.m. NY news broadcast, famous anchor Sue Simmons dropped an F-Bomb live on TV.  

Since then, she has already come out to apologize but I say F-that.  Stand up for your frustration.  We are in New York City, we all drop F bombs on a daily basis.  It's ok.  We are not mad.

Plus, what the heck was her fellow news anchor doing to make her drop the word like that?  

Anyway, it is Tuesday and it made me laugh, so enjoy.

Alba Distorted By "Cann" Of Whoopass

When I was 13, I had a crush on two celebrities.  Andrea Elson, the girl who played the daughter on the 1980's show Alf.  Yeah, she was like 19 and I was like 13, but according to my Barmitzva, I was a man now.  The other crush was Justine Bateman.  She played the sister of Michael J. Fox on Family Ties (the dark hair one, not the blonde).  Again, she was much older, but I was 13 and all the girls on TV that were my age consisted of Blossom, DJ Tanner from Family House or the girl from My Two Dads.  Not the best selections.

Living in Los Angeles I ran into a lot of celebs.  I became friends with a few D Listers and some Z Listers as well.  When you live in LA, you tend to run into these celebs at car rental shops, at the Whole Foods, at the gas station and almost every time you go to a bar in Hollywood.  

Why both these paragraphs?  Well, they blend into this soggy mix drink that I had to drink over the weekend.

This weekend, Wifey and I hung out and decided to watch a movie.  Nothing good was on except something on TBS called "Into The Blue".   I kind of heard about the movie when it came out, the only thing I remembered was that Jessica Alba was in it.  I think every guy in this world thinks Jessica Alba is a hot woman (I am sure even gay men think that), but I am married to a much hotter wife.  Too bad my hotter wife is so hot in fact, that one evening when we were living in Los Angeles, she went out with her girlfriends and was hit on by Scott Cann (the dude with the giant head from Ocean's 11).  She blew him off and flashed the engagement ring in his face and came home and told me how funny it was and what a douchbag he was.  I agreed.  He is.

It never bothered me to think Scott Cann hit on my wife and asked for her digits because he is a celebrity and celebrities are in a world of their own.   So this weekend, I sit in front of the TV with the wife and here comes Scott Cann on screen with Jessica Alba.  Now, I should be, like all men before me, completely focused on Jessica Alba, but for some reason, all I can do is look at Scott Cann and feel the urge to wish he would drown or get eaten by a shark every minute of the movie.   The movie (from what I hear) has Jessica Alba in a lot of hot scenes....too bad I don't remember seeing them, let alone remember them permanently due to the fact that all my focus was on the douchbag that I knew had hit on my wife.  

I wasn't jealous, I know it seems that way.  I was proud more than anything else.  This guy has money and a celebrity status and my wife shut him down.  But here he was, on my tv screen, grinning.   I wanted to bitch slap my TV.  

I guess the moral to the story is, when your loved ones get hit on by celebs, avoid their movies. Even if the movie includes celebs of the opposite sex that you would think help you enjoy the movie, they won't. Just skip the movie all together.  If all else fails, wish them a horrible death by shark bites.

What's In a Name?

My wife is a fashion student.  She goes to FIT (one of the best schools to be in for the Fashion Industry) and she reads this newspaper everyday called Women's Wear Daily.

I, on the other hand, don't know Polo from Puma.  Before I met my wife I had what I thought was a good style.  Flip flops, cargo shorts, and a T-shirt that says something like "Baghadad Ass Up".

Little did I know, my way of dressing was to "stylish" as Lindsay Lohan's acting is to an Oscar performance.  After a couple of years dating a fashion student (and eventually marrying her so that I can keep this good looks forever), she managed to make me a somewhat, decent, fashionable man.  I am no model, but I definitely moved up from the "You look like the teenager in the Old Navy commercial". 

While now I do shop for my clothes at places like Zara, and H&M and stopped shopping at the  Wal-Mart Men's section that has the big, bright, yellow, smiley face over it, I still can not pronounce any of the high-end clothing names.  Most "high end" clothing are named with something sexy, and strange (like the don't want you to be able to pronounce it).   You have "Chanel" (pronounced Sha-nel)...I thought it was pronounced like Channel.  You have Balenciaga, which to me, sounds like a Brazilian Women's Soccer Team.  

I even recall one time I saw an article about Stella McCarteny and looked at my wife and asked "Does Paul McCartney know this chick is using his name for her clothing line?".   After a laugh that lasted 15 minutes, my wife said "It's his daughter".  Well how was I supposed to know that there are two famous McCartneys?

I also remember when I went shopping for my wife's birthday last year.  All I remember are the looks of the sales people at the sunglasses store when I asked them if they had anything by "Dolsee and G-yabama".   Later did I find out it is pronounced, Dolche' and Gabbana.

So last night I am sitting in bed before I snooze away and I pick up the NY AM paper.  I start reading and got to an article about how Sex and The City inspired fashion in people in NYC and how NYC inspired the show/movie.  I noticed very quickly that the article used the words "Malano" alot.  Sarah Jessica Parker was interviewed in this article and she kept referring to this Malano guy.  The article didn't make sense to me because they spoke as if I was supposed to know who this Malano guy is.  "Malano did such great work for us on set", "I wish I could have my life filled with his work".   I really started to think Malano was the director of the Sex and the City movie.

Me:  Hey, babe.  Who is Malano?

Wife:  What?

Me:  Malano.  They keep mentioning him in this article about Sex and The City.   Malano? Is he like one of the creators or something?

Wife:  He is the guy that makes the shoes...you know? the famous ones.

I previously thought it would be a cool gift to buy my wife the Sex and the City full series on DVD.  Little did I know, I would be forced to watch all of them with her.  Next time, I am buying her the series DVD of something I can watch and enjoy like the Sopranos or Saved By The Bell.

I had this perplexed look on my face when she mentioned he is the designer of famous shoes.  Then it hit me that they mentioned him in a couple of the episodes I was forced to watch.

Me (with an exciting glow on my face like I finally know a name of a designer): Oh, you mean the guy who makes the Malanik Blaniks?

Wife: ?

Me:   Malanik Blaniks!  (I was still smiling.  like I knew she would be proud of me for remembering something that she adores.  Then, my smile slowly drifted away as I noticed she was giving me a blank stare with her jaw dropped).

Wife:  Remind me again, why did I marry you?

You see, the designer is Manolo.  He designs shoes called Manolo Blahniks that are worth more than a 42" plasma.  I screwed up the name of a famous designer, and obviously proved to my wife that I was not paying attention to the DVDs we watched.

So the moral of the story is, never attempt to act like you know something, if you really don't know anything about it.

I am a well dressed man because of my fashionable wife.  I am aware of names like Betsey Johnson or Gucci, but don't know anything about them (just recently found out that Dolce and Gabbana are two guys....go figure).  For the knowledge I know due to my wife having endless amount of fashion magazines and newspapers, I still can't claim to know anything.  

Thankfully, I am not rich enough to ever have to worry about walking into Saks 5th Ave and ask a sales person:

"Excuse me, where do you keep the Malanik Blaniks?"

I am sure I would be burned at the stake.

My wife's fashion blog is amazing by the way:  http://newyorkfashion.blogg.se/

 

Gossip Girl Traumatized By Crazy Bobby

Note:  The man pictured above is not the same person mentioned below.  

They say New York never has a dull moment.  I concur.  

I went home for lunch because 1) its cheaper than buying the greased up baked bread they call pizza across the street and 2) it lets me hang out with my wife between my eight hour shift at the office to keep me sane.   

I always love seeing the different things going on in the streets while I walk to and from home.  Men in suits on their blackberries, women shopping with Lord and Taylor bags in both arms, tourists thinking they are getting a deal on a "REAL" Louis Vuitton bag from the Jamaican guy selling the knock offs out of a Sponge Bob towel on the corner of 37th and 7th.  I swear I once saw what was obviously a tourist pick a knock off bag up and ask the guy "Are these real?"  The large smile that followed on the mans face could only lead me to believe that the words about to come out of his mouth were "Ofcourse madam.  And do I have a deal for you today!..."

Poor tourists.

So on my lunch trip I came across three different scenes today.  Two were reminiscent of my days in Los Angeles.  The first was on the way home as I passed Bryant Park.  I saw the movie trailers lined up along side the park along with multiple crew people running around with their schedule sheet on their headsets.  I spoke briefly to one of the teamsters who was smoking on the back of a truck and he told me that they were shooting a new Julia Roberts movie.   Julia was not on set today.  Atleast not here.  I continued home.

After two quesadillas, some coffee and a brief phone call with my brother about his dog who he chose to name Ninja, I was back out the door on my way to the office.  On the way back, literally 1/2 a  block from our apartment, more movie trailers.  They have been parked outside of our corner for a couple of days but nobody has been in or out.  Today, I got the answer as to what the heck are they shooting here.  Right outside the "Hair and Make Up" trailer, sat Connor Paolo.  Also known as the little brother of Serena on Gossip Girl (I know, the fact that I have this knowledge without having to research it is a disgrace).

I had to call the wife because she watches this show obsessively.  I watch it with her because she forces me.   Plus, for every 3 episodes of things like Gossip Girl, Oprah or America's Next Top Model, I get to watch a blood bath movie and make her sit there with me to watch it.  

The third thing I saw on the way back to the office should be in a movie.  Probably something like Jackass IV.  I walk up 40th and just passing Madison when a tall, skinny, african american man passes me.  I first noticed the Rambo like florescent headband he had around his head and that he was very dirty.  As he dashes past me and weaves in front of me as I walk, I notice his old ripped up shirt.  A near confirmation that he is homeless.  Then, I noticed both of his hands were holding a brown, letter size envelope where his butt is....and took notice that he was not wearing any pants...nor underwear for that matter.  The man was wearing a headband, a t-shirt and an envelope.  I was not in front of him, but I was curious that he is using the one envelope he has, to cover up the back part of his naked lower body.  I immediately started to take notice of the people walking in the opposite direction.  Working people, women shopping, Fed Ex delivery guys, all  making that face like they just saw an anaconda snake free in Manhattan.  Thankfully, I was getting the covered, raterd PG-13 side of this crazy man.  

I got nervous and chose to not pass him.  I stalled and let him gain some distance.  Every once in a while his dirty butt cheeks would peak from behind the envelope.  It was horrifying. 

Then out of nowhere, just before the intersection of Bryant Park, the man stops and walks up to a glass window to a store and starts licking the window.  He licks and then used his fingers to write something with the spit left behind.  I kept walking and not look back.  

So there.  Not a single dull moment while traveling a few blocks in Mid-Town Manhattan.

This place can be a place where Oscar winning actresses can shoot a movie, and a popular TV show can set up shop right in front of your apartment and you can always count on crazy, naked, homeless dudes to know which body part is more embarrassing when exposed to the general public.

Happy licking!

60 years old but fighting like she's 22

Israel.  Also known as the Holy Land.  Or where my grandmother lives (by the Syrian border) they call it The Holy Crap Here Comes Another Missile Land.

Israel turns 60 this week.  I am originally from Israel, born and raised there until the age of 10.  At age 10 my father realized that I am more likely to smoke pot at age 18 than to smoke someone with an AK-47, he moved our family to the U.S.of A.

I have been back to Israel a few times since then.  The most recent was with my mother and (suprise) my wife.  I was not aware my wife will be there.  She had a flight the same day going to Sweden and I to Israel.  My father and her (behind my middle-eastern back) decided to have her land in Israel for 2 weeks before going to Sweden.

We explored the country and until this day, with the exception of the was-supposed-to-be-secret-wedding-but-only-lasted-as-a-secret-for-twelve-days that her and I had in Vegas, the trip to Israel comes second place as to the best time of my life.  The reason for being the best trip is, well for one, my wife was there.  I got to introduce her to things like Falafel, Jerusalem, and give her the "How To Tell If There Is A Terrorist On Your Bus In Under Three Minutes" course.  She took a few buses in Tel Aviv.  I was very impressed.  I also loved my trip to Israel because I got to celebrate my first birthday in Israel since age 10.  It has been 17 years since I celebrated my birthday in my homeland and that trip gave me a chance to re-live some of my memories.  

My wife and I explored the country in a way I never had a chance to explore it.  We drove from the north to the south.  From the Kibbutz to Jerusalem to the Dead Sea (before it all dries up soon) to everywhere in between.  It was an amazing trip.

So this week Israel celebrates her 60th.  My family were some of the O.G. (Original Gafilta-fish eaters).  My grandparents were in Israel when she first became a country.  They built her with their hands.  They been there when everyone else was trying to get them out.  20 years later, my parents enrolled in the army (not by choice) and also fought in plenty of wars defending their family and friends in that country.  My father told me stories and until this day its weird to look at my father (who loves Teramisu cake and his Plasma TV) and think "This dude killed people?".  

Israel is a beautiful country (once you make it out of the crappy neighborhood the airport is in).  People there remind me a lot of New Yorkers.  They keep things real.  They tell you how it is to your face and at the end of the day, there is a level of respect that brings everyone together because you have been through something tragic (here in NYC it is 9/11...in Israel it's 9/11, 9/12, 9/13, 9/14.....basically, year round).

The country has been through many wars, many bombings, many cuts and bruises.  Yet she is still here.  So I take today to say "Happy Birthday" to my homeland.  My O.G. family in Israel and to the young, 18 year old kids there who have to guard her with semi-automatics instead of taking someone on a date to the roller skate park or playing a nintendo Wii.  

Happy Birthday Israel.  May you be as beautiful 60 years from now for my grandchildren to enjoy exploring you as much as I have.

I love AmeriKa

We have been down this road before (see: "I Have A Dream" post).

Houston, Texas is home to this lovely lady who thinks that those who live in America should only speak English.  I am all for standing up for what you believe in, but I know I am a terrible speller and should never be in charge of writing signs for protests.  This lady on the other hand, likes to make a point, even if she is the exact kind of person she is protesting against.

Lovely.

2 kudos 

For Sore Losers In The Morning, Take Two Vicadins!

Well this one takes the trophy for dumbest act by a sports fan!   Seriously people!  I know some folks take these games seriously, but this is just bad:

From WNBC.COM:

After a Red Sox-Yankees argument spilled outside a bar, a Yankee fan aimed her car at a group of people to scare them and didn't brake, hitting and killing a man, authorities and witnesses said.

Witnesses said the argument heated up when Hernandez identified herself as a New York Yankees fan. Like the rest of New Hampshire, Nashua, 45 miles northwest of Boston, is Red Sox country.

Bartender Tanya Moran said the argument spilled outside, and at least one person in a group began chanting against the Yankees when they saw a Yankees sticker on Hernandez's car.
Hernandez allegedly gunned her car and struck Beaudoin and Maria Hughes, 21. Hughes had only minor injuries, which Beaudoin's sister Faith said was because her brother shielded Hughes, a friend.

"She accelerated at a high speed for about 200 feet. She went directly at this group of people," prosecutor Susan Morrell said. "She indicated to police that she wanted to scare this group of people. She thought they would get out of the way."

Beaudoin died of massive head trauma at a hospital, Morrell said.

Prospect Barks

This weekend, Brooklyn Botanic Gardens had the Sakura Matsuri festival (no, it is not a festival to celebrate Tom Cruises robot child "Suri").  This festival is the "Rite Of Spring" festival that includes traditional Japanese music and dance, arts and crafts and a view of all the cherry blossom trees in full bloom.  

The wife and I decided to take our in-laws to the event on Sunday and after a  44 minute train ride, my review of the event is:  N/A

that's right.  N/A.  Not Available.  Not Applicable.  None Apparently.

We brought the dogs with us (and for those who read my previous posts know that my dogs are smaller than a miniture chinchilla on a diet), the park still wouldn't let us in.  After telling them I would carry the dogs in my arms, and after telling them I will clean up after them, and even after telling them I would write a great review on my site about it...they declined and showed me the exit.

So we let the in-laws in and told them to call us when they finished.  Meanwhile, the Swede and I decided to take our two dogs to Prospect Park around the corner.  I have to say "Thank You" to the security at the Botanic Garden for following the parks policy and procedures because it was totally worth missing the garden and attending this park in Brooklyn instead.

This park was amazing.  The sun was high even though they said it would rain (which I now realize that it basically takes the effort of sticking your head out of the window to become a weather man these days).  It was extremely warm and the park was blooming and the grass was bright green.  The dogs ran for hours chasing birds, squirrels and chewing on sticks.  The Swede Wife and I laid in the park and relaxed for what felt like 5 hours (but was probably more like 2).

It was a gorgeous and enormous park that was not crowded with your tourists and UES snobs like Central Park gets.  This had what Brooklyn is now known for:  Strollers, young thirty something parents, and enough 4 year old kids to start a small army.  Kids were everywhere playing soccer.  Parents were strolling around with babies and the young hipsters were laying on the grass as if this was some early opening to a concert on the park.  Afterwards, we took a trip to Union and 7th to a local coffee shop (Izzy's: 410 7th ave, Brooklyn).  Coffee and a sandwich while sitting on the corner in the sun was the best way to let the day slip away.

I had the most awesome time at this park and I can see why so many run to Brooklyn instead of the city to live.  While I hear that the area surrounding the park is very expensive, you do get a bit more space than in the city.  You also get to be away from skyscrapers and loud tucks, cars, taxi cabs, sirens, homeless, drunk people falling out of bars and your usual transvestite/hooker/politician girlfriend yelling obscene language at someone at 2:00 a.m.

So as for the BBG festival, my rating on the event is: 10.  I know I didn't attend, but if it wasn't for them kicking me and my little hobbit dogs to the curb, I would have never got a chance to go and venture into the wonderful world of Brooklyn.

Can I get the Loose Ass Roll to go?

I went shopping for breakfast.  Get some eggs, orange juice and a bread roll.  I walked up to the bakery section where I found the prices for all the rolls.  Somehow the "Loose Ass Rolls" were discounted.  I guess nobody really likes a "Loose Ass" early in the morning.

Can I make this check out to CASH?

Yesterday, the new Gov. office of David Paterson (you know, the guy who has not yet been caught with a hooker) announced that New York has officially begun its recession.  While the rest of the country is questionable (some claim we are, some claim we are not, some claim "I had nothing to do with it, I was with my girlfriend at the movies at the time"), NYC is apparently hitting the recession field.

BUT, I question the statement from the Gov. office only because NYC Budget Director Laura Anglin said that the best thing for us New Yorkers to do to stop this recession is to use our tax stimulus checks to go SHOPPING!

Really?  Last time I checked, if you are going broke, you should be saving money.  Now I know there is analysts and professionals and people with pages and pages of statistics who will tell you why it is better to put your money into the economy, but common sense tells me that if my eggs are about to hit $6 and my milk is about to hit $6....then I am better off saving that money and spending it on things I need (like food, bills, rent) instead of buying the new GTA IV or the new "Biggest Loser Workout: Now For Little Losers You Call Your Kids".     Anglin actually said that people should use the nice $300, $600 or $1200 they will get this month from the government to make "new purchases" rather than paying off bills or savings.  

Gee, you are telling me this economy is going down the toilet and into the East River, and instead of saving my money for a rainy day or getting myself out of that debt that has almost put me on the street, I should use the money I get to buy a new Banana Republic pants for $400?

I may not work for the NY Budget Office, but I will tell you all "DON'T SPEND THAT MONEY ON USLESS CRAP!"  Don't buy that PS3 you wanted or the Plasma.  Don't buy that Louie V. Bag you saw at Saks 5th Ave.  Don't buy those 3 rare 1912 stamps with the beard of Lincoln upside down thinking that they will be worth $5 more 20 years from now.  SAVE YOUR MONEY!

Fuck what Laura says.  She works for the government and I am sure she makes good money that she isn't worried about shortage of rice at her house.  Buy yourself a small little thing (like a new CD or some new headphones) and then put the rest toward a rainy day.  Times will get harder, be ready.  

As for Laura Anglin, I would love to see a list of the things she buys with her check.  Too bad nobody is selling common sense.  She sure can use some.