NY Journal # 24

Tuesday, January 04, 2005
JOURNAL ENTRY
Hepy Freikin' NooYeee Ova' Heyah'
So I'm walking to the 1/9 train this morning and I see a blonde lady - straight blonde, well cut hair .. hmmm, lovely.. , a bright red wool jacket .. quite the attention grabber .. , a black wool skirt... everything good so far ... black ribbed stockings ... something about it was kinda not-right .. and black boots with that stupid fake-fur fringe on top ... sh!#, there goes my attraction ... and looking even further down is her affectation ... ahem, I mean... her dog.. leading her along by a leash.. a miniature Benji type dog.. it's slightly disheveled look adding some bit of respectability to it.. over say, a comically shaved poodle dog or those bio-engineered, yappy weiner dogs that seem more nervous and bitchy than any walking bag of skin should ever be.. what? me?? not like small, small dogs? c'mon, what gave you that impression?
So... she's walking parallel with me accross the street and as I cross the street, I'm still curious about what this lady looks like.. what kind of person owns such an unfortunate tampering of nature. At the intersection, I see her finally and in an "oh, duh!!" realization, I see that she looks just like her dog. Well. not exactly like her dog, dont be ridiculous, but "just like her dog" in that way that most dog owners match their dogs.
When I see her, she's tying the dog leash to the back of the permanent news stand at W4th & Christopher, I assume, to walk to it's opposite side so she can buy a paper or coffee or .. i dont know ...Dog Fancier magazine. I think to myself "ok, that's just... slightly odd, tying your dog up so you can go somewhere that's not in line-of-sight to where you're going, but hey,.. not my dog - maybe it'll get stolen... or stolen .. and eaten!"
So... I cross the street to the downtown-side of the 1/9, go into the station and... as dating or married men would NEVER ever admit, even under truth serum or black ops torture... I look for, and at... (with practiced slyness of course)... all the beautiful women in the subway station. Have I mentioned the beautiful women in NY before? I have? You're sure? ok, then.
Soooooo...... long-story-ridiiiiiculously-Long - ... I'm looking around & as is usually the case, most of the beautiful ladies at the Christopher St 1/9 stop are on the Uptown side... so as I'm looking up & down the platform at all the ladies who, I can only assume would be dying to talk to me were they on the downtown platform... I notice one it particular... she looks familiar like I've just seen her today... pretty blonde hair, a red jacket and ... HEY!! what the... and... And... where's your dog?!??! you .... you ...? you Left Your Dog Tied To a News Stand so you could take a subway uptown?!?!?? Are You Freakin' KIDDING me???
My mouth was literally agape. You know when you're in total shock with your mouth open and you're aware that people are probably looking at you with your mouth open and then trying to figure out why you're standing there with your mouth open? ya... that was in full effect.
So, I'm about to yell out "HEY! you stupid ..." and then i realize I cant just yell out "hey, you stupid b!#@#, you cant leave your dog tied up while you day trip on up to Bloomingdale's!!" ... and as I'm trying to figure out what I can yell across a subway station, the part of my brain that says "ok, wait, there's gotta be a logical answer behind all of this" notices that she's looking down occassionally and at the wall behind her. huh? Down on the ground is a rectangular black bag, only as big as a paper shopping bag. Could it... well.... i guess it.... hmm. Oh. ok. I see. She's... a dog-carrier...-carrier. One of the thousands of New Yorkers who slings a designer bag with air holes under her arm and takes her yappy ball of nerves around with her all day. I was probably no more than ten seconds from screaming a mostly obsene demand for someone to be a humane pet owner - across a crowded subway station. Ohh, it's really impressive how close we come sometimes to making world class asses of ourselves in public. WooHoo!

postscript - later that same day I saw a guy tie up his dog to the inside-door handle of a Chipotle restaraunt (an overpriced fashionista burrito shop for the executive crowd) - which, in itself is not so horrible. What Is so horrible is that he then tested the door he tied his dog to, to see if it was locked (he'd used the other door to enter so i guess he thought one door would be locked & one would) ... it was not locked. He sorta half looked around for another place to tie his dog, didn't see one & then in that I'm-about-to-litter-because-I-dont-immediately-see-a-trash-can-right-in-front-of-me-and-oh-I'm-also-a-lazy-bastard kinda way.. gave a look like nothing was wrong & went to get in a 20 minute line for his $8 burrito.


Wednesday, January 05, 2005
JOURNAL ENTRY
The Mandel Chronicles -
"These are the people in your neighborhood".
I doubt Mister Rogers ever had one like this. Specifically, my work neighborhood. Specifically, a person named Dianna Mandel. She is from Brooklyn. Ohhh how she is from Brooklyn. Specifically, the part of Brooklyn that gives to the world my favorite brand of cubic-zirconium-encrusted jewels of comically foul mouthed, bitter and spiteful, venom-tinged loud mouth's that are pretty much, a walking sit-com of vulgarity and totally inappropriate work nastiness. She sits ten feet behind me. I hear everything. Every Thing. You know who also hears everything? My Jehovah Witness coworker Taresa, who sits six feet from Diana and I. Which makes the cursing episodes even funnier because Diana will curse, then catch herself, then apologize to Taresa, then a few minutes later, curse again. repeat.
My fascination with her negativity began with overhearing "conversations" she had with her daughter (which she calls to order around no less than two or three times a day) but quickly broadened into arguments she has with her husband and then, as geological gems are usually scattered through layers of nothing too interesting, into conversations with coworkers and people at other companies and lastly, mutterings to herself.
And so.... I will now be collecting Mandel-isms. I should have started much, much earlier because I've now missed months of gems I could have logged for you. I wish I could impart the amazing, caricatural accent these gems smack you in the head with, but such is the shortfall of typing.

(to her daughter) "Ya, when you dont wake up'fa school, it -does- kinda annoy me, Ya."
(to her daughter) "listen. do you have a job? do you? do... you... have... a... job? no. no you dont."
(small talk with a customer) "how many [kids] do you have? god bless you... I had one daughter, I should have had ten sons"
(to her daughter) "shut up [click]" hangs up phone
(to her husband) "shut up [click]" hangs up phone
(to a provisioner at Verizon) "are they retarded????" .. "Oh no, I have to beat the sh!t out of somebody"
(I had no idea who until i heard 'cartons') "you have the Seneca 100's..? full flava? ya... 5 cartons. the Seneca's aren't on back orda', are they? ok, good"


Tuesday, January 11, 2005
JOURNAL ENTRY
DiannaMandellChronicles -
(DMChronicles for short, going forward)

(to her husband) - there are full packs [of cigs] .. just walk into your daughters room [super frustrated] i dont have time to play games, Dave.
(to her daughter) - you know, i just got an attendance record for you from school... [pause]... get the hell out of the bed. if i can make it to work on 2 & a half hours sleep, you can go to ... hello...? ... hello...? helllooo...? you need to straighten up, Lauren.
(to her husband) - Dave, I will beat you.
(to her daughter) - Lauren, I will beat you.
(to me) - sometimes I just want to poke his [our boss'] eyes out.