Whoever is the bouncer to my dreams-- you are fired.
Every morning I wake up and am like, how did that person get in again?
Tighten the velvet rope, buddy.

I like to think that I am very discriminating when it comes to the people I choose as friends-- intelligent, interesting people with high moral standards. Turns out that if you think I'm funny, we're friends. If not, then I think you to be dumb, boring and of low moral character.
Unfortunately, this probably greatly restricts the amount of possible friends.

Falling down the stairs on a cold icy morning is not as refreshing as it sounds.

Doing laundry on my day off for MLK Day made me wonder: is it right that we separate whites and colors?

If you were a weiner dog, I would knit you long sweaters, if I knew how to knit sweaters.

It might have already been time to sleep if staying up seems like less effort than getting ready for going to bed.

Maybe the key to happiness is a certain amount of lowering expectations.

Personal ad: Single white male looking for warm body. Preferably alive.

Pretty much no movie is good enough to see from the 3rd row.
Unrelatedly, being able to move one's neck is underrated.

The other day I learned an interesting New York lesson.
If you don't have something nice to say, shout it to nobody in particular, interspersed with singing at the top of your lungs.

Without weather.com and hopstop.com, right now I would be lost somewhere in New York inappropriately dressed for the cold.

Explain to me why a woman would get her two weiner dogs, put them in sweaters, take them outside on a freezing day and push them in a baby stroller.
Who is benefiting from that situation?

The only plausible explanation is that the dogs were walking at some point, got tired, and so the woman left her actual baby somewhere along the way.

Sometimes I think, well that thought is just too random and makes very little sense. And then I see the title at the top of the page and go, oh yea. See?

It's important to reflect on life and make change when needed. The problem with feng shui-ing your room is that energy can flow but where is all your stuff.

Tomorrow is MLK day, which made me think, thank goodness for Martin Luther King Jr. If only there were more people like him and their birthdays were spread farther apart so they couldn't be combined into only one day off like Presidents Day.

If I get paid to be at work, and I spend work time writing random thoughts on post-it notes to later post here, that basically makes me a professional random-er. Or someone whose actual job is in jeopardy.

I understand why people have to work, but why every day?

When I count my blessings, I count that I am not nor am I related to Bernie Madoff six times. Some people make a living from giving Jews a bad name. Or not really make a living. Some people make up a living.

I bet oatmeal sales inversely correspond with temperature. Other than that, everything else is better when it is not winter.

I prefer to open envelopes with a letter opener because it makes me feel like a pirate.
That is what we call "professionalism."

Life is brightened when I discover I have a stamp and ink that I get paid to play with. I mean, work with.

Explain to me slowly how anyone can possibly do office work better not wearing jeans.

If you cannot laugh at your people whose book forbids mixing two kinds of fabric for no good reason, then you are a Jew without a sense of humor and I hope for your sake you have money.

I will one day open a store involving recycling and helping those with physical challenges.
And it will be called: Second Hand Prosthetics.

I woke up last night with a brilliant idea, and I'm not sure what it is, but it it is called:

Weekend at Bernie (Madoff)'s

Turns out learning and growing involve a certain amount of feeling like an idiot.

Random thought from an old journal of mine I found:

Life is like tetris-- once everything fits together it suddenly disappears and the shit just falls faster.

Rain = beautiful

Snow = romantic

Hail = a jerk
Stop throwing stuff in my face.
I mean it.

Now that I've moved my trash can away from next to my bed, I play an excellent game before I go to sleep called "Let's see how well I throw with my contacts out." In the morning it is followed by a horrible game of "Who threw trash all over my floor" also known as " What did I just step on?"

Me, to my roommate from Maryland: You know the Sunscreen Song? I think that's true.
Roommate: What part?
Me: Live in New York once, but leave before you get too hard.
Native New Yorker friend: What the f*ck does that mean?

When you leave everything on the floor, the world is at your toetips.

Poetry is: finding puns where there are none.

If you're going to get in a habit of standing with one leg on top of the toilet seat while brushing teeth, maybe also get in the habit of looking to see if the toilet is closed first.

I like when couples match.
On the train the other day I saw a Matching Ugly Hat Couple.
Him: boat-shaped thick-knit atrocity.
Her: feather-covered brown circular horrible.
Some people are made for each other.

A woman straight up shouted in our faces while we were walking down the street for no reason. Seriously, out of nowhere. Women should be in the kitchen if that's how they are going to act in public.

Nothing is as sad as someone with an inside-out umbrella still trying to use it as shelter from the storm.

If you say any word enough it can seem onomonopoetic.

I realized I may have become cynical when I am surprised that Draino works.

When I get married and we write our own vows, I will make him go first and then I will say "Yes, isn't it pretty to think so," or just "Really? For serious?" And then he will yell "SIKE!" and it will be the best (and most expensive) April Fools EVER.
And free presents.

I think that being a jerk doesn't really show that you don't care what people think of you. It shows that you want people to think you're an ass. And you're very efficient at it.

The problem with losing things in a small apartment is that I have looked everywhere there IS. Therefore the only possibility is that the lost item never existed at all.

Perhaps there is no perfect love story, no perfect marriage proposal, just that perfect fit of a person who will get down on one knee in a petting zoo and pick up a recently laid platypus egg, break it open, and have a blimp fly out with a banner that reads Will you marry me? exploding out of it in fireworks. And that's because love is about compromise.

Why does the rule of "you cannot eat unless you bring enough for everyone" apply to the subway?
Oh wait, yuck.

For those of you keeping score,

Total rats: 24.

I realized I am slowly becoming a New Yorker when people get too close to the edge of the subway platform and I think of how an accident would slow up the trains for hours.

Probably the most effective pick up line during January is: "Cold enough for you?"

This is not a joke. This is serious.

You know that people at work have no awareness of irony when they send an email to everyone that reads:

If anyone lost an eye contact please see me. Thanks.

How do deaf people eat and talk at the same time?

When you start to think about the things you want out of life, you have some epiphanies. Turns out I am looking for someone who will play Name That Tune while I dance and mouth the words to songs.

I cannot imagine the pain of giving birth to a child born with a silver spoon in its mouth. Ow.

On the subway the other day I saw a girl wearing chain dangling earrings with wrapped condoms hanging from the end.

I guess it's hard to get noticed in the city. Or one has to get close to the edge to be considered edgy these days?

Maybe it is a statement about art. Art not being dangerous enough and eventually we will have to worry about children putting AIDS needles earrings on when they leave the house.

Or maybe it is a statement about the media and needing to protect our ears like we guard other parts of our bodies. Or something deeper.

Maybe it is a statement about contraception. Abstinence only education is failing our children by not teaching them how to use condoms correctly and apparently they think they are arts and crafts material.

I wanted to ask her about them, but what is the question? Where did you get your earrings? Why are you wearing those? What is it about? Do you have a condom to spare? Wtf?
Or maybe it is about how New Yorkers don't notice anything and refuse to ask.


Additional clues:
Her purse had a recycling symbol on it. Related?
She was reading a book called Loose Girl. Quite possibly related.

I have a lot of questions about dogs in purses.

Things I have learned from observing people in subway stations

Love is: letting a younger sibling climb your body like a tree trunk.

Little things can be important.
For example, my jeans: 99% cotton, 1% spandex.
And that has made all the difference.

I walked past a group construction workers the other day and was preparing for objectification when one of them says, "Good morning. I like your earrings."
Is it New York culture?
Very experienced construction workers?
Either way, I now believe in this theory of evolution.

You realize that you have become accustomed to your new living situation when you call it home or claim something as your own.
For example: "Hey-- someone threw up all over my subway station!"

One day everyone currently wearing leggings will look back and realize they spent years of their lives without pants on.

Turns out of all the sites that are blocked at work, blogspot is not one of them.
Also turns out that I have a hard time focusing on work when I am at work.