Monday August 1st.

This morning, on the subway, I saw a remarkably tarty woman wearing a tiny little tank top with the message: "Can't touch dis!" plastered across her chest. I thought: "Don't want to! Wouldn't with a barge pole! Find you repulsive! Sure everyone else does!"

So I suppose we were even.

Friday June 24th.

On my way to the subway station, a man walking very fast and sweating a lot caught up with me and puffed, "Excuse me, but do you know what time it is?" I checked my watch and told him it was ten past nine. He was rushing ahead of me and threw over his shoulder, "Ten after nine. Thanks."

At which point I shouted, "No! It's ten PAST nine, not ten AFTER you damn colonial!"

Okay. I didn't. But I wanted to.

Monday June 13th.

Spotted this morning on 32nd St, a woman wearing a "Breast Cancer Awareness" teeshirt, standing outside her building, smoking a cigarette.

And they say Americans lack irony.

Thursday June 9th.

There was this woman on Park Avenue waiting for a cab, dressed like she thought was Grace Kelly - blonde hair, capri pants, polka-dot sweater, headscarf, sunglasses.

She was standing halfway up the block with her arm outstretched. So a cab pulled in at the bottom of the block to let a passenger out, about twenty feet from where she stood. Now most people would have started walking towards the cab, but not our Princess Grace. Oh no. She stood there, waiting for the cab to come to her. Which it did, only to go right past her with the cabbie giving her the finger.

How I chuckled.

Friday June 3rd.

Hey radio WNYC,

it's just a thought, but how about when you're telling us the weather forecast and how hot or cold it is in Central Park right now, and the day's highs and the day's lows, well, hey, how about just thinking about maybe mentioning the fact that it's fucking raining too, therebye saving me having to walk out of my front door only to turn around and walk straight back in and up three flights of stairs to get my fucking umbrella?

Thursday June 2nd.

This morning I was nearly hit by a cab. Really, nearly hit by a cab. We're talking inches.

I was crossing Madison Ave at 32nd, and the light was in my favour - ie the little walking man sign was telling me I could cross the road safely. Ha!

I was about a quarter of the way across the road when I suddenly became aware that there was a cab coming round the corner of 32nd onto Madison. Fast. In a split second I realised the cab was going way too fast and I was going to be hit. I thought, fuck this is going to hurt, and I did this undignified attempt at skipping out of the way, which in retrospect, probably saved me from being hit. But I felt like Ashlee Simpson doing a hoe-down.

The driver noticed me at the last moment and slammed on his brakes, stopping less that a foot away from my easily breakable thigh bone. I yelled out, "WHAT THE FUCK?!" and a little man got out and started apologising profusely. I was so freaked out, I just walked away.

My legs are still wobbling now.

Wednesday June 1st.

One thing that always tickles me is when my train pulls into 34th St on a different platform than usual.

Normally the doors on both sides of the carriage open, but when it's the different platform, only one side opens. The conductor tells everyone as the train is pulling in, that this is the final stop and that the doors will open on ONE SIDE ONLY. ONE SIDE ONLY.

And when the doors open, there is always a cluster of I-Pod people, the little white plugs in their ears, gathered around the doors on the other side, waiting for them to open. In vain.

Heh.