Crazy Train

Here I am, podunk girl, at my girlfriend Laura's apartment overlooking Lincoln Center and, in the distance, the Hudson River. Breathtaking.

I jumped in the subway this a.m. to be entertained by a flamboyantly gay, young, black guy who was wearing a straw cowboy hat and was serenading the train with non-stop, comedic shtick. He escorted me to a seat and insisted that I relax. He then told the woman next to me that she should remain standing because her ass was too large already. While a few people were averting their eyes, many were laughing their heads off.

Just before I exited, he made his way back to me and said, "You're very beautiful" so I responded, "Thank you very much."

He then started whooping, "Ladies and gentlemen, this woman just proved me wrong. White women do speak! You, my friend, are the first to speak to me on this train!"

All this before 9:00 a.m. Could be a long and interesting weekend.

Monkey Turns Seven

Happy birthday Monks!

Son #2 is on the couch wearing a blue robe (that's covered in basketballs, footballs and soccer balls). He's wearing a Clone Trooper face mask, holding his drum sticks, and singing the Ramones, "shoot 'em in the back now."

It doesn't get much better than this. You just never know what to expect with kids.

Speaking of which, while trick-or-treating the other night, I warned the kids, "Do NOT say anything bad about the candy anyone gives you." Why? Because last year an old man was handing out Necco wafers and all the kids were saying, "Ew." To his face.

This year all went well until we got to one house where Son #1 didn't say "Thank you." I asked, "Dude, did you even say thanks?"

"No, she smelled like Subway."

Subway. Eat Fresh. And stink up the house, apparently.