Onmywayintowork

Monday August 1st.

2005-08-01T19:02:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-06-24T07:59:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-06-13T06:16:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-06-09T12:43:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-06-03T07:06:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-06-02T07:09:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-06-01T09:04:00.000-07:00

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.

Tuesday May 31st

2005-05-31T09:35:00.000-07:00

I was moaning about Lipton tea to the man who runs the kiosk in my building (the one who sells the Trojan condoms) and telling him how crap it was, and only Americans would drink it.

So this morning, he surprised me by brandishing a box of Tetley British Blend tea bags for my morning cuppa. Now that's customer service.

At the moment I am plotting my strategy to leave work at 2.15pm today to go and watch the England v Columbia game. It's a football match. Real football, not the American padded variety. Coincidentally, I am dressed in red, white and blue. The pysche is a wonderful thing.

Friday May 27th.

2005-05-27T06:56:00.000-07:00

I had very bad food poisoning yesterday, so all I saw was the inside of my toilet bowl for much of the day. Today, I still feel bad, but had to go to work, so I just kept my head down concentrated really hard on not puking as I walked to the subway.

At one point I had a nasty scare, thought I was going to heave and got panicky - would I have to puke on the street? Luckily I was bringing a dress into work to give to someone, so I had a bag I could have used. Would not have done much for the Marc Jacob frock inside, though.

Wednesday May 25th.

2005-05-25T06:53:00.000-07:00

The woman sitting opposite me on the subway this morning had the most enormous flared nostrils I have ever seen. She looked like a horse. The fact that she sprouted an enormous mane of brown hair, didn't help much.

On Madison and 32nd, a couple of men who were either very gay or very German. Sometimes it's so hard to figure out which.

Finally, a very small man wolf-whistled at me. Why is it only the midgets who love me?

Monday May 23rd.

2005-05-23T10:28:00.000-07:00

I just discovered that the little man who runs the little kiosk in the lobby of my building sells condoms. Trojans, to be precise.

I wonder if anyone has ever bought any from him. And why?

Friday April 29th.

2005-04-29T07:05:00.000-07:00

Tiny, immensely fat woman with an immensely fat rucksack totally blocked my entry to the news kiosk this morning as she stood and bought fifty-six million lottery tickets. I couldn't get past her to just leave a dollar for my Times. I had to wait for hours while she droned out an endless list of numbers. She was really small but very wide. I wanted to kick her. Like a chihuahua.

Wednesday April 27th.

2005-04-27T07:00:00.000-07:00

This morning, I was followed all the way down 32nd St by a herd of American tourists, all wearing identical - and unutterably hideous - black and orange anoraks. Grim.

Tuesday April 26th.

2005-04-26T12:16:00.000-07:00

Walking in front of me to the subway today was a woman wearing a purple, unintentional (I hope) frock coat, black MC Hammer pants, and what looked like two beige sponge fingers on her feet. I was thinking, "God, call the style police, dear, that look is so not for you" when I realised plenty of people must look at me and say exactly the same thing.

Mortifying.

Monday April 25th.

2005-04-25T05:22:00.000-07:00

The man at 34th St who gives away one of those free news rags, booming - "Good mornin', good mornin' laydeeeeees and gennulmen, get your free [insert name of piece of shit freebie here], free [insert name of piece of shit freebie here] here, laydeeeeeees and gennulmen, good mornin', good mornin'" - over and over again, has begun to annoy me so much I have changed the subway exit I use to avoid him.

For some reason, just the sound of his voice makes me stressed beyond belief. It's nothing personal, but I hate him.

Friday April 22nd.

2005-04-22T08:05:00.000-07:00

Now I'm no cab driver, but this morning I saw a woman outside my building with her arm outstretched trying to hail a taxi, wiggling her fingers in a kind of "Hey you! Yes, you, little man. Stop your taxi for me immediately. Do you KNOW who I AM?!" sort of way.

And I thought, if I were a cab driver, I would drive straight past you because you are annoying. Or maybe I'd drive straight into you, if I were having a bad day. Patronising cow.

Thursday April 21st.

2005-04-21T06:37:00.000-07:00

I caught three different men staring at my breasts this morning.

I mentally consigned them to the pervert bin, until, just before I got to work, I realised a button had popped open on my blouse and I was displaying a not inconsequential amount of grubby bra to the world.

Wednesday April 20th

2005-04-20T06:54:00.000-07:00

I saw a woman with a guitar strapped to her back this morning and I felt a moment of sheer jealousy. Why can't I play the fucking guitar? It would be so cool. And then I remembered that I have abnormally small hands, and I'd find it hard to span the neck of a banjo, let alone a guitar.

Saw some pigeons pecking at some vomit on 32nd St. Nice.

Tuesday April 19th

2005-04-19T09:40:00.000-07:00

Signs it's Spring in New York.

First day into work without a coat since I don't know when
Everyone in my local bagel shop is uncharacterstically effusive
The Korean restaurant I have to walk past every day on 32nd has begun to stink again
I noticed three anorexics on my way into work today. They're so much easier to spot without their winter coats
It'll be 53 degrees and raining on Thursday

Monday April 18th.

2005-04-18T05:10:00.000-07:00

I was trying to figure out the origins of swearing as I walked from the subway to my office. I went back to Roman times and proceeded to the middle ages, but I didn't come up with any conclusive theories. It needs more thought, but Britney Spears calls me.

When I got to my office building, I was waiting in the elevator and as the doors were closing, this tiny blonde bachelorette ran up, and then turned away as the doors all but closed. Nicely, in my opinion, I wacked the "open doors" button, and they opened up. Little blonde got in. And that's it.

"You could have fucking said thank you, you little cow," I thought. That one can fucking whistle for the next elevator I'm in.

Monday November 22nd

2004-11-22T06:11:00.000-08:00

This morning the world was full of tiny women in grey trousers. No woman should ever wear grey trousers. It's a sign you've given up hope.

Monday November 15th.

2004-11-15T07:09:00.000-08:00

Three weeks in New Zealand and I come back to this. Rush hour, everybody looking miserable, and, startlingly, a well-dressed Japanese woman picking newspapers out of a bin at 34th St.

Thursday October 21st

2004-10-21T07:31:00.000-07:00

I was walking to the subway today when I passed a deli that had a sign in the window saying, "Pre-order your Halloween bagels now!"

What the fuck are 'Halloween bagels' and what do you do with them?

Monday October 18th.

2004-10-18T07:21:00.000-07:00

Most days I don't have to be in work until 9.30am. Ish. We work such long hours that start time is reasonably flexible and that means I generally have a mellow commute. It's only five stops on the subway and by the time I hit the station, most of Manhattan is already at work.

Except Mondays. I used to have to be in by 8am sharp on Mondays. Again, that's before most of the rest of the commuting herd thunder down to the station, so again, it was a mellow commute.

Then our bosses inexplicably said we could start an hour later on Monday. Seeing as how we're usually still in the office at 10pm on a Monday, that's kind of nice of them. But dear God, what a horrible, horrible thing it is to join the 9am rush. I can't believe I did it for so many years.

First, it's the stress of getting a seat on the way in. I know it's only five stops, but I like to read my NYTimes in the morning and that's really hard to do when you're standing up surrounded on all sides by fellow veal cows, swaying and stumbling as the train bumps along. Everyone lines up aggressively on the platform as the train comes in, and even if you decide to let a train go in the vain hope the next one isn't as crowded, the interval is JUST long enough to ensure the platform's eight deep in commuters and it's the same stressful tense squeeze to get a seat yet again. Some people go on the other side of the platform where the doors open first to let people off. We are torn between admiration and deep hatred for these people. Someone today muttered they were "cheaters". Even I think that's a little extreme.

Then, when I got out at 33rd St today, I had to queue to get up the subways stairs. This was because a bunch of fucking tourists had decided to stand in a large huddle in front of the hotel on the corner of 32nd and 6th, gazing like mentally retarded moo-cows at a car with its doors open that they were clearly considering getting into. Just not any time soon. In the meantime they were blocking almost the entire width of 32nd St, forcing hundreds of people in both directions to squeeze past them single file. Hence the fact I had to queue to get up the subway stairs.

I am so consumed with hatred for these tourists that I am grinding my teeth as I write this. I'm not sure an extra hour in bed is worth all of this.

Thursday October 14th.

2004-10-14T07:35:00.000-07:00

There's a woman who smokes outside my building and I cannot honestly tell if she is very fat or very pregnant. I guess I'll know in a few months time.

Wednesday October 13th.

2004-10-13T07:55:00.000-07:00

I don't know what the fuck was up with my NY Times today.

It was like it was made out of tarpaulin instead of paper. Every time I tried to turn the page it was a veritable wrestling match. The pages wouldn't turn and fold, they were lumpy and bumpy and individual pages kept falling out. It was like trying to read an octopus or something.

People on the subway were looking at me funny and the woman sitting next to me kept sighing loudly every time I invaded her airspace as I battled with my newspaper. I was aware that I was being extremely annoying and I got more and more embarrassed but that fucker WOULD NOT behave itself. Jesus. Any more of this and I'll have to start reading the Post.

Tuesday October 12th

2004-10-12T13:34:00.000-07:00

When I am in my 60s I will NOT get a bad perm with a beige rinse, or wear faux Burberry coats, black leggings and white sneakers.

That is a promise.

Monday October 11th.

2004-10-11T11:29:00.000-07:00

A week off work. A week off work somewhere where the streets don't stink. Which was nice.

Then back to New York and stinky 32nd St and the leaky alleyway and a woman with very short hair and the closest thing I've seen to a human version of Mr Spock ears. Huge, pointy and sticking out. She appeared very tense. Understandably so.

Tuesday September 28th

2004-09-28T10:21:00.000-07:00

This morning, outside the stinky restaurant on 32nd St, there was a large pool of vomit. Unsurprisingly. I always want to vomit when I pass the stinky restaurant. How anyone can eat there after experiencing the stench outside amazes me. I think 32nd St, between 5th and 6th is one of the most rancid, stinking shithole blocks in Manhattan.

Yesterday, I saw two entirely different middle-aged mustachioed white men walking along Park Avenue at different times, playing harmonicas.

Friday September 24th.

2004-09-24T06:54:00.000-07:00

Not much this morning. Just a lot of people wearing very bad shoes. Spongy shoes. And the realisation that there is no 4th Avenue.

Thursday September 23rd.

2004-09-23T09:29:00.000-07:00

This morning I sat next to the most enormous woman I have ever seen in my life.

Don't get me wrong, she wasn't fat, she was just the largest female I've ever seen in my life. Ever. She must have been about 6"4, and she was built like a brick shit-house. She was actually quite scary to behold. But like I said, she wasn't fat, she was just enormously big and solid. Like a troll, or Hagrid from Harry Potter.

There was one seat left on the train between me and a corporate drone in khaki trousers and blue button-down shirt, and as she approached, I quivered with fear and thought, "Oh no, come on, no fucking way, you're not going to..... shit, yes you are.... shit, I'm going to be crushed to death."

Hagrid turned around (everyone ducked) and then she sat down. Or rather, only a very little bit of her sat down. She was so big she couldn't fit anything except the very tip of her arse on the seat, so she kind of perched precariously on it, her legs spread out before her like giant logs, while towering above the quivering masses. I was scared if the train jolted to a halt, she'd topple over on me like a large tree and squash me. I held myself in readiness to run.

She got up and thundered off the train at 14th St. I was extremely relieved. Where the fuck can she get her clothes from? We're talking waaaaaaaay beyond Long Tall Sally here.

Tuesday September 21st

2004-09-21T09:12:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a washout. My heart was full of fear and dread and Britney Spears.

This morning's statistics:

Number of bachelorettes with sunglasses perched on top of their heads: 53

Number of bachelorettes without sunglasses perched on top of their heads: 13

Number of businessmen in spongy shoes clenching their hands compulsively: 1

Number of homeless people singing: 1

Number of homeless people not singing, just hanging out looking miserable: 3

Number of small women with large arses who shouldn't really wear stripey blazers and jeans too tight for them: 2

Number of people smiling: 1 (no, it wasn't me)

Number of people looking miserable/bored/indifferent/angry/preoccupied: 30,000

Number of men in khaki trousers with light blue button down shirts: 73,486

Number of building security guards who have known me for months and still refuse to smile at me ever: 1

Number of women braying loudly and uninterestingly about their ratdogs in the elevator: 5

Friday September 17th.

2004-09-17T07:10:00.000-07:00

When I arrived at work today I had an email from a friend. She'd forwarded me a message from this person who clearly doesn't like me at all.

Here's what he says about me in an email to lots of people:

"[A SITE I DO NOT LIKE]
I rarely go out of my way to talk about a web site I don't like, but
this one bugs me in particular. I found the link on
www.themorningnews.org – a site I like. It's here:

http://onmywayintowork.blogspot.com/

BUT DON'T YOU DARE CLICK ON IT!! I guess it bothers me primarily
because it feels like many of the "CONS" of personal web writing have
been kind of test-marketed and researched and creative briefed to
produce this automatic site. It's got:

- stories of new york city (as someone who hates tremble once said:
"Only in New York!!")
- a ritualistic account of someone's daily commute (a hook! it's daily!
it's never been done quite so self-consciously! no need for a press
release!)
- a name and url that magically and literally dovetail with said
content hook (guess what my site's about!)
- intelligently written, but done so in a tone that is more
self-conscious than anything i've seen in a long time, as the writer
bears witness to the world's Nutty and Shitty and Rude and Beautiful
Stuff™ without action but with great reserved judgment. one of my
least favorite things is the writer-as-hero technique – and i'm not
totally immune to it myself – where the writer talks about all of the
wonderfully witty things he or she would have said to Cunty Person A,
and then at the end sort of half-admitting he or she never said any of
those things but, instead, said something sort of polite and mousey.
to the public world, a boring incident. but to the reader – a
brilliant bit of Oscar Wildean rebuke!!! (totally imagined)
- zero tits

The only thing it's missing is one of those "My Current Mood Is.."
buttons and a photograph of the author on a rooftop, with a view of a
water tower in the background."

Oh dear. Whatever shall I do?

Thursday September 16th.

2004-09-16T09:44:00.000-07:00

This morning, walking to the station, I saw this squirrel running round and round a tree trunk really fast. It looked like a small furry fan-belt. On a tree.

And then I started thinking, maybe the squirrel was mad. Maybe it had Mad Squirrel Disease. Or maybe it wasn't mad, it was just happy. But what would make a squirrel happy? What would make a squirrel unhappy, if it came to that. Did squirrels go mad? What would make them mad? Did other squirrels notice if they became mentally ill? Would they be able to do anything about it - I'm thinking squirrel group therapy here - or would they just ignore the mad squirrel or beat it to death or something.

Then I realised that somewhere in the world there are people who are experts on squirrels, who know all about this. There is probably someone who is acknowledged as the world's foremost authority on squirrels. Maybe there are rivals for the title, who argue fiercely in scientific journals and slag each other off at squirrel conferences in Rio and Tel Aviv.

Just a thought. Or two.

Tuesday September 14th.

2004-09-14T09:27:00.000-07:00

A man followed me down the street this morning shouting something unintelligible at me about America.

Then I saw a couple waiting to cross the street ahead of me. He was wearing very tight jeans, a striped shirt (un-tucked) and sunglasses perched on top of his over-gelled hair. He looked like a losing finalist on American Idol. As it was about to rain, I wanted to tell him that wearing sunglasses looked rather idiotic. But I didn't. If I'd been his girlfriend I would have, though. But she had wildly over-plucked eyebrows, so I dare say she likes that kind of thing.

Monday September 13th

2004-09-13T06:19:00.000-07:00

This morning, there was a couple walking ahead of me on the street, just slowly enough that I wanted to get past them, but they were stolid enough to block me. For a while I fantasised about killing them.

He was wearing black wraparound shades and looked like he habitually over-uses a rather strong cologne. She was wearing what looked at first glance, like grey pyjamas. On closer inspection it appeared to be a grey trouser suit. Made out of pyjama material. It clung to her bottom. That was not a nice sight for me. Down below, the trousers flooded over her feet, rendering her essential bachelorette pedicure quite pointless. Her shoulder pads were spongy, but limp. They looked like they had given up the fight and were resigned to their humiliating existence as props for the worst suit ever designed, ever made and ever worn. The couple were not holding hands and did not speak a single word to each other all the time I was behind them.

I lost them on the way to the subway, but as I got off my train, she was in front of me and I had to walk up the stairs behind her, fascinated by the way the grey pyjamas stuck to her arse. I couldn't understand why anyone would ever wear, let alone buy a suit of grey pyjamas.

Friday September 10th.

2004-09-10T09:17:00.000-07:00

On the plane yesterday, the steward spilled red wine all over my jacket. Because I was in public, I couldn't just lick it all off, which was a shame. After I left the plane the woman who'd been sitting next to me told me I should put the jacket in a bag with dishwasher liquid overnight and then wash it and the stains would come out. I thanked her politely, but as I was staying in a hotel, it wasn't really a practical option for me.

Imagine my surprise, when I got to my hotel and found a washing machine and a dryer in a cupboard in my room. Fate, I tell you, fate.

This morning, as I was wandering around town looking for an internet cafe, a middle-aged couple walked towards me. Then the woman suddenly turned to the man and sniffed him. As they passed, I could hear her saying, "There's so many other smells in the air today.....". Quite true.

Thursday September 9th.

2004-09-09T08:25:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to work today. I'm going to Canada instead, but I daresay odd things will happen there. They seem to happen everywhere for me. Or maybe it's all in my head. I don't know.

Yesterday evening I was taking the 6 train downtown and while I waited for a train I went to sit down on one of the platform benches. I noticed that on the seat next to mine, someone had drawn an erect penis and written "sit on my dick" underneath it. I wondered why someone would do that.

I also wonder who the woman who always stares at me in the elevator will stare at while I'm gone?

Wednesday September 8th.

2004-09-08T08:52:00.000-07:00

This morning when I opened my front door, I was confronted by water. Lots and lots and lots of water. I would have had to swim to reach the end of my block. I considered whether I loved my job enough to wade through rain water and backed up drains. I decided that although I love my job very very much indeed, I did not love it that much. So I went back inside and waited until the water had receded.

At the station, the trains were fucked up and a woman stood aggressively near me on the platform, as everyone was desperate to get a seat. I hated her for standing so close to me, but I wasn't going to give up my seat-guaranteed spot on the platform, which is what I think she secretly desired. I had the last laugh though, when I managed to translate a tannoy announcement that the train on the other platform - which had been out of service - was now going our way. I zipped across and bagged my seat. She reacted too slow and had to stand. I was delighted. I am a mean-minded person.

Later, I saw a woman whose jeans were way too tight. It was most unattractive.

Tuesday September 7th.

2004-09-07T09:31:00.000-07:00

As I passed the fishmongers this morning an elderly lady came barrelling out of the shop and barged into me, all the while making farty noises with her mouth. After she colllided with me, she glared at me and muttered something in Spanish. Then she walked off, making more farty noises. I have not the faintest idea what all that was about.

Later I saw an extremely tall anorexic girl walking almost side by side with a woman so short and so fat she appeared circular.

Friday September 3rd. Lunchtime.

2004-09-03T10:23:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, the little victories are the sweetest.

I was buying my lunch and this big beardo-weirdo man in a trucker hat was completely blocking my way to the cold drinks cabinet while he took three hours to ponder what flavour Snapple he wanted. I knew what I wanted, but could I get to it? No I fucking could not. Eventually Snapple moo-cow moved on and managed to bag the only free till, while I had to join the queue behind a woman who seemed to find operating her purse and paying for her food an insurmountable task.

I eventually got to the head of the queue and lo and behold over strolled moo-cow man. Behind me. Turns out there was no-one at his 'free till', so he ended up paying after me. Ha! Ha! Fucker! I win! Ha! I am drunk with victory.

Friday September 3rd

2004-09-03T07:13:00.000-07:00

There was a woman on my train who was so fucking tense she made me vibrate.

She moved seats three times for no discernible reason. She sighed loudly. She twiddled endlessly. When we got to the last stop she sprinted out of the train and was quickly lost to view. I hated her. Then I realised, maybe she'd had a death in the family or something. Then I realised I hated her anyway.

Thursday September 2nd

2004-09-02T06:49:00.000-07:00

I got on the train today and there was only one empty seat. It was empty for a reason. A blonde matchstick of a bachelorette in the seat next to it had made it so, by leaving her bag on it and by sitting with her legs crossed so that she was occupying half of it, as well as her own seat.

Congragulations, dear, I thought. You almost pulled it off. But now I am here and I am going to sit down in that seat, so you had better understand the nature of defeat. As I walked towards her she glanced up from her newspaper and I foolishly imagined she would politely move her bag. She did not. I stood before her and said, "Excuse me......" at which she snatched her bag away sulkily without looking at me. I expected her to also shift so that she wasn't taking up half my seat, but she did not.

So I sat down and nuged her bony bulimic arse aside with my ample saddle-bags. That showed her. Oh yeah. But to my surprise, she carried on leaning into my airspace as she read her piece of shit Metro (they have LARGE TYPE for people like her), turning the pages of her paper in front of my face as if she was sharing it with me. No thanks. I have my own paper, and I paid for it because it is the NY Times. And although it has a few shortcomings - not the least of which is a total sense of humour failure - I prefer it to your piece of shit Metro.

So I raised my own paper and we began our silent page-turning war. She got in my face, and I in turn, got in hers. Nobody really won. But when she flounced off at 23rd street I wanted to scream "Fuck off and die bitch. I hope your fiance sleeps with your maid of honour" (I know how to wound a bachelorette).

But I didn't. Life is full of little disappointments like that.

Wednesday September 1st

2004-09-01T06:41:00.000-07:00

I didn't go into the city yesterday. I was sick, so the only interesting thing I saw was my bedroom, which, frankly, is in need of a good tidy-up.

This morning the woman at the newspaper stand told me I was looking pretty. It was nice of her but I was unconvinced, as I was well aware that my skirt doesn't fit properly, this top is dull and my little cardigan is not just five, but ten whole minutes ago. And my hair is limp. But then, it's always limp. But still, maybe she thought I needed a boost, looking this bad.

The men with machine guns weren't there this morning. I guess they know something I don't. Like, that terrorists don't attack on Wednesday mornings. Or maybe they were off shooting crusties at Madison Square Gardens. I felt disinctly less nervous, though. Perhaps because when they give me those evil suspicious looks I feel the urge to confess, confess, confess. Not sure what I'm supposed to confess, but I want to throw myself on their mercy anyway. Nuns have the same effect on me.

Monday August 30th

2004-08-30T04:56:00.000-07:00

There were lots of people on my train who aren't normally on it. Re-routed from Penn. You could tell they were not locals because they ran down the stairs for the train when it wasn't about to go. Locals don't do that. It's too uncool. They were uncomfortable on the train and sat fidgeting a lot, which raised the overall stress levels, train-wise.

At 34th St, there were soldiers with machine guns. They looked at me suspiciously and I thought, for heaven's sake, I don't look like a terrorist. If anything, I look like a tired, badly-dressed yuppie who's been puking all weekend from food poisoning, and who just wants to find somewhere comfortable to lie down and continue vomiting.

I saw a man picking up dogshit in a (thankfully opaque) plastic bag this morning. I noticed he already had one bag of shit in his hand, which means his dog shits at least twice on one walk. I will never have a dog.

Friday August 27th

2004-08-27T06:53:00.000-07:00

This morning I had a victory of sorts.

I was in the elevator, waiting the obligatory hour for the doors to close. I don't know why they take so long to close in my building. I stab the "close door" button endlessly every time I'm in one of them in a futile fashion, knowing it makes no difference, but I feel I have to do something. I should know better by now. You wait an hour and then they close. That's the rule. It never changes and all the button-stabbing in the world will not alter that fact.

But what's really annoying is when the doors finally JUST start to close and someone dashes in at the last moment, and they open again and then we all have to wait another hour before they close again. We all hate it when that happens.

So this morning, I'd waited 59 minutes for the doors to close and they were almost shut when the woman who always stares at me in the elevator strolled up. She had that confident look that said "I'll just make it", but she didn't. She was forced to swerve away at the last minute as the doors shut. We looked at each other and I exulted inwardly, thinking "You'll have to find someone else to stare at this morning, fucker". If I were a man, I would have scratched my balls, or something.

Thursday August 26th. Lunchtime.

2004-08-26T09:41:00.000-07:00

Dear Guy and Gallard,

If you're going to claim you sell "chicken noodle soup", please ensure that what you sell IS indeed "chicken noodle soup", and not a watery unidentifiable broth with a few twirls of pasta floating forlornly on the surface. I feel cheated. Especially as what I really wanted for lunch was a toasted bagel with cheddar cheese, but you had run out of bagels. I may avoid you for a few days now because I am disappointed.

Thursday August 26th

2004-08-26T06:53:00.000-07:00

I counted 17 bachelorettes on my way in to work this morning. One thing I noticed about them was that they all had aggressive handbags that screamed "I read Vogue and buy the crap I see in there and you don't!". Another thing I noticed was that they all had facial expressions that indicated they'd been freshly sodomised by a badly-groomed Satan. I smiled at all of them cheerfully. I was laughing on the inside. They were scowling on the outside.

I had to disqualify my original bachelorette number 9 because she had suspiciously flabby thighs and was wobbling in her high heels. True bachelorettes may be chunky, but they are firm because they worship at the altar of the god 'Gym'. And a bona fide bachelorette never wobbles. She is kept erect by her pulsing veins of contempt.

On the bus, this woman in front of me took the usual half hour to get off. This time the driver actually lowered the bus for her. I was mildly irritated until I noticed her toes. They were the longest, weirdest toes I have ever seen. Like something you'd see on a camel or a gnu. No wonder she had problems walking. I think she'd be very good at hanging from a tree upside down like a bat.

Wednesday August 25th. Early fucking afternoon.

2004-08-25T10:40:00.000-07:00

So we can fucking put fucking people on the fucking moon, clone fucking sheep and make Jessica fucking Simpson famous, but we can't somehow fucking make a fucking photocopier that can go more than two fucking hours without fucking jamming, or invent a fucking printer that doesn't need to be re-filled every fucking five minutes because you can't fit more than three fucking sheets of paper in its fucking paper tray at any one time.

Fuck it.

Wednesday August 25th

2004-08-25T06:51:00.000-07:00

Two women got on my train this morning. They were chunky, dressed exclusively by Old Navy and conducted a hearty shouting conversation with each other that indicated they were either born again Christians or they didn't know each other very well. I say conversation, but it was really a high-decibel banal stream of consciousness.

"Brrrrrrr! It's cold in here, isn't it!"
That'll be the air conditioning, dear.

"It's getting pretty crowded in here now, isn't it?"
Well yes. It's rush hour and the train is about to go. Who knew?

"Ooooh look. There's the driver!"
Yes. There is the driver. He's going to drive the train. That's what train drivers do. They make the train move.

"Oooooh look! The doors are closing!"
Yes. They are. Amazing, that.

The pair kept this up all journey (Oooooh look! We're in a tunnel! Oooooh look! We're coming into a station!), while all around them ground down another set of teeth. When we got out of the train, they were in front of me. They climbed slowly up the stairs ahead of me, and walked the same way I was going. They were both large, so I couldn't get round them. They were still talking (Oooooooh look! Buildings! Ooooooh look! People!) as they crossed the road with me and by this time there was a homicidal rage building inside of me. Never mind, I thought, I'll lose them at the bus stop. God couldn't possibly be unkind enough. Could she? She could.

All three of us arrived at the bus stop and I heard one woman shout to the other "Ooooooh. Shall we get the bus?!"

I walked.

Tuesday August 24th. Mid afternoon.

2004-08-24T12:17:00.000-07:00

I was just in the elevator with "the woman who always stares at me in the elevator". And she was staring at me. Again. What the fuck is up with that?

Tuesday August 24th

2004-08-24T09:46:00.000-07:00

I was on my way to the subway, wondering why I woke up this morning and knew I'd dreamed of cheese. Then I saw two women walking along the street together. One was blonde (aren't they all?) and cute (ditto?) and radiating all-American health, albeit in a slightly chunky way.

She was holding a cup of Starbucks coffee in her hand and pontificating as she walked. It sounded like Wahwahwahwahwahwah. She's the kind of woman who bores everyone to death at parties about how she can never seem to shift that baby weight. For ten years. She'll never shift that weight. No-one cares.

With her, pushing an angelic blonde baby in a pram was a small, dark hispanic woman. A little bit older maybe, but not much. She looked bored and a little irritated. The nanny, I thought. Oh dear, mummy's got a day off work and decided to spend quality time with her baby.

And the mummy carried on droning on about how she stubbed her toe at a champagne charity gala and had to call the paramedics for an emergency life-saving pedicure and wasn't that just the most awful thing that ever happened to anyone ever in the whole world wahwahwahwah, and the nanny just walked beside her, gritting her teeth.

And I could picture her thinking: "Listen bitch, the pittance you pay me is for looking after your goddamn child. If I have to listen to your Starbucks-fuelled inanities, I charge extra."

Monday August 23rd. Mid-morning.

2004-08-23T07:26:00.000-07:00

Just now, I went to get a toasted bagel with cream cheese. The world's most annoying woman was ahead of me in the queue. She spoke so quietly that none of the servers could hear her. She then began to question the nutritional value of each and every muffin they had on offer. Next, she took what felt like half an hour to order a breakfast bagel, with a public debate on whether she should have cheese with it. All of this in a whisper that ensured she had to repeat everything at least three times.

When she finally finished, she did not move out of the way, but just stood there, preventing anyone else from stepping up to the counter, like a gormless moo cow. I really wanted to kick her very hard indeed. She had long red talons, where her fingernails should have been, which made me want to kick her even harder. I bet she annoys everyone in her office when she types, with all that talon-clicking.

Monday August 23rd

2004-08-23T05:18:00.000-07:00

When I left my house at 7am, there was a chill in the air and I was depressed for a moment, realising that summer is pretty much over.

Then I was waiting for a bus and a middle-aged nondescript man walked past me, but as he did, he looked at me with what seemed deep suspicion and not a little loathing and I wondered why he hated me so much. It's probably payback for all the people I hate on my way into work. On the bus there was a woman who was trying a little too hard in the fashion department, in my opinion. It was like Paris Hilton meets Lucy Liu, via Cameron Diaz (she was spotty). Only none of them would be on a bus in Manhattan. She also glanced witheringly at me, but I didn't mind so much this time.

Friday August 20th. Afternoon

2004-08-20T12:43:00.000-07:00

A few minutes ago, I was in an elevator and for some strange reason I found myself wondering what Mary-Kate Olsen was thinking about at that precise moment.

Friday August 20th

2004-08-20T09:04:00.000-07:00

I was walking along the street this morning when I realised my shoes were too big for me and I never should have worn them. Actually, I never should have bought them. I began to really hate my shoes. I thought maybe I could buy some different ones at lunchtime. Then I realised I wouldn't have time today and my hatred for my shoes increased.

Further down the road I caught sight of my expression in a shop window and I realised I looked very pained. I wasn't feeling particularly pained by that stage, so I tried to look a little less like I was chewing on a turd-covered wasp.

A very very very fat woman took half an hour to get off the bus in front of me. Then she stood, recovering, on the sidewalk, blocking my way off the bus for what seemed like half an hour. I stood behind her, hating her very much indeed. Then as I finally got past her, I felt really bad for hating her. I considered that I was not a very nice person and maybe I should go to meditation or something. Then I went to get a bagel. I had ceased looking pained by this stage.

Thursday August 19th

2004-08-19T07:28:00.000-07:00

On my way in to work I saw a woman in a pink shirt. The shirt had huge damp patches on the back and I thought, "Wow, she's really sweating like a pig. She should do something about that. Maybe see a doctor. Or wear a cardigan. Or emigrate." Then I saw she had damp hair, like she hadn't blow-dried it. But it didn't look damp enough or long enough to have caused such huge wet patches. I remain unsure.

Then I saw a cute little 'activist' family on the M34 bus. She had hennaed hair, he looked like he once met Jack Kerouac, and they had a darling little crusty/crunchy teenage daughter, complete with dreadlocks. Unfortunately, she had plucked eyebrows and a manicure. I looked at her clumpy boots and figured she probably had regular pedicures too. I guess even crusties evolve. But I was disappointed.