STOP THE ABUSE!

of the handicapped seating area on the subway.

It is late and I have been extremely busy today putting out fire after fire at my "real job". So I am going to make this brief.

There is a rampant and unnecessary abuse of the relatively new corner seats on many a train in NYC. If and only if you solely enjoy those other oddly shaped trains, like the ultra-wide A-C-E, the orange multi-directional seated N-R, or the older than dirt 1-2-3--than you may not know about this volatile recurrence.

But it is happening.

In fact, my assuredly inaccurate scientific assessment is that a handicap-friendly seat is assaulted every 6 minutes.

The disturbing thing is that there is no common profile for the abuser in this situation. They can literally be anyone!

All over segments of Manhattan, The Bronx and Brooklyn people are forsaking their moral ground and just slamming these seats against the wall.

Much like any abusive situation the two involved are only a percentage of the victims. There are a countless number of others whom have had to bear witness to these vicious displays--often suffering side effects like

• Severe Startle
• Painful Ear Discomfort
• Intense Aggression (including Homicidal Thoughts) 

These outbursts have taken a toll on many a commuter--especially those of us engaging in early morning "FML why do I have have to be on this damn train again-ing". 

The good news is--we can put an end to Handicap Seat Abuse. We have been given the necessary tools to combat this vicious cycle and they are called hands...yes...

By using these tools YOU can prevent H.S.A. one seat a time. Together, we can put an end to the violence.

Are you ready to play your part?

dont play with me cause your playing with fire...

After a long discussion with a co-worker today--I thought about the inevitability of risk taking.

What is it about inherent danger that draws in human beings? And honestly, it's really not just human beings--I mean the whole "Moth to a Flame"concept isn't exactly figurative (poor little semi-blind guys).

There is a definite organic attraction to the danger--so I have decided to come up with a little theory as to why....and that is,

We truly have nothing better to do.

This may seem like an oversimplification--but it is the basic truth because most of us live redundant lives. Whether we like it or not we are stuck in a routine that we are:

A-sort of ambivalent about but at least happy that we have some control over

B-miserable about but can't seem to do a damn thing to change

C-accepting, though possibly considering improving (if possible, you definitely want to be this one)

C- completely unaware of, even though there is regular partaking in the said redundant behavior on a daily basis***

***Side Note: If the latter is the case, well then I suppose this entry won't do much to shine a light on your oblivity (and whatever--because if that is not a word--it should be). Seriously if we are not all aware of our daily actions than what is it that we are really aware of??)

Where was I? oh yes! Risk-taking. So that is what it is all about....we have an uncontrollable need to break from the safety of life's routine

Of course, to what degree varies over time since our good ol' stick in the mud friend Responsibility flies in the face of this need and gradually eliminates certain options (damn kids. damn bills.)

It can be extremely a liberating, debilitating, titillating, or downright excruciating move. (My attempt at Walt Frazier-esquness).

Bottom line...Risks can indeed be gratuitous.

But in the end considering the brevity of life....

--isn't it worth it?

I Missed You!

Pardon my disappearance, but I was away on business...(aka consecutive happy hours). But now that my binge is over I thought I would treat you all to a small list of things that can really make (or break) your day.

1. People that run across the street while pushing a stroller and directing several small children wearing  knapsacks to "hurry up and run!"

   -While I can appreciate the valuable NYC life lesson on jay-walking that you are teaching your child, there is a considerably inappropriate risk you are taking with the lives of these munchkins. But to be fair, there is something strangely amusing about the chaotic scene you are creating and since it affected me enough that I was compelled to write about it--I say, GO FOR IT! Risk their little lives and give me material in the process.

2. Looking at a possibly pregnant woman smoking a cigarette.
      -Part of you wants to judge her gross and neglectful habit--the other part of you is thinking---damn is she just really overweight? And if so, why is all the fat gathered right there? And most importantly---why doesn't she purchase something with an empire waste so I don't have to wonder for half a block what the truth is?!

3. A sign that reads...buy 1 Beef Patty and get the 2nd for 99 cents!

     -Irie! This can really tickle the fancy of your inner fast-food junkie trying to emerge. But beware: a wise man once said: Beef patty once--stain on me...Beef patty twice--stain on your shorts.

I really did want to give you something more substantial here, especially after my long absence--but I am exhausted from my lackluster day-job...and mi cama me esta llamando...

I am totally unaware of my point here....

A Cockfight.

Ok, ok all you animal rights activists....yes I am Latina, but nooooo I am not talking about a real cockfight. (Though to be honest I really don’t have too much of a problem with it--yes it is brutal and mean and all, but I mean...they are chickens! Aren’t we going to eat them or their unborn babies eventually anyway? Why not let them go out like warriors...)

Where was I???

Oh yes, Cockfight. I am referring to the penis here. (Sorry Pops--I know you read my blog). A cockfight is when two or more men decide they are going to figure out whose member is the biggest by putting on a show of sorts and laying claim to whatever woman, sport, job title, award, reputation (or my preferred phrase, "street cred") that is in question and roar from the mountain tops that:

“Yes! Yes! My cock is bigger than yours and therefore I am the best, you...YOU are nothing but a girly man--and I, ME! The master of all things, will crush you beneath my massive rod!” 

Figuratively speaking of course. 

Now I am going to piss of feminists (sorry Mom--I know you read my blog) because the fact is, while these men, prove their utter and complete manhood....they generally conduct themselves like....bitches. 


As a woman who is all to familiar with machismo, the fact that such things occur isn’t what throws me for a loop. What does however, is the mere manner in which these battles are conducted.

I have been privy to these displays...when power struggles are circumvented then cheapened with underhanded, conniving tactics that are far from macho and more to the point, are actually similar to the tactics of those “mean girls” that are depicted in movies like “Bring it On” or...er.....”Mean Girls”. 

I won’t go on for much longer about this except to ask you to ponder this....


Maybe Mr. Macho B. Powerful is really just a Bitch inside?  

(funny cause you might know one!)

In summation, Cockfights are pointless, Mean Girls (aka Bitches) really suck and Eating eggs is really twisted but tasty when fried over-easy and served over white rice.

---signing off....

#tiredofbeingtechnologicallybehindtherest (lol)

I find constant inspiration on the subway.but my camera phone sux. for this reason i would like verizon to cut it out and give me my upgrade.....just saying.

A Light at the End of the Tunnel....

The morning commute can be rough. But sometimes the most random thing can brighten your day. A person's willingness to help a confused tourist, a young man who gives up his seat for a pregnant women or a random act of affection (not the nauseating kind) between young lovers can go a long way to diffuse the ticking time bomb that can be a Monday morning.

So in my particular case, I am able to distract myself from the urge to slap around small children (a gross exaggeration...well maybe not gross) by taking a moment to look at the decorative token booth on E 86th st.This small box of hope greeted me many a morning and sent me on my way after a 10 hour day. It wasn't much--but to me this was a clear representation of looking at what was really important. 

Seriously, I am the first one to talk about how much a job can suck..truthfully I could write a dissertation on the uneventful employment opportunities that have befallen me in the last 2 years. But what is it that people always say....look at the brightside?

Sure, maybe that little box saw the occasional rat or an unruly mentally disturbed vagabundo but in the end....it was Christmas, it was Easter...it was....Cinco de Mayo! And damn it---it was worth taking the time out  to string those sombreros around the window! 

Well friends...upon my exit today...I realized. That booth is now closed. No more gratuitous holiday cheer in an otherwise dreary surrounding, no more Cupid cutouts in February....

so now what? I suppose I will go take solace in watching the masses wait on line for a burger at the shake shack....that's gotta count as some form of entertainment.   

writer's block

is frustrating....

I resign myself to surpassing this inner-conflict.

For some time I have felt that I was born in the wrong generation. I am a writer who enjoys a pen and paper. A book with real pages and coffee-splashed newspapers that leave ink stains on your fingers. The digital age, the wonderment of technology has resulted in a certain inconvenient separation from the art of writing. I am sure some of you are thinking that I have lost it---and that writing is now more convenient than ever....

I suppose the best (and most ironic) way of looking at this is--pretend my organic, raw connection to the words that flow out of my head is your cell phone reception. When I sit in front of this screen the reception can get spotty and the connection to my craft can go in and out.

Now if that wasn't a way to depict the oxymoron that is an old soul in a modern age.....

That aside, I am going to hit these keys until it feels right--and you get to watch me rock---or crash and burn.

I repeatedly hear the same phrase: this day in age you can not be a writer without a blog. I personally would appreciate an assignment--but since I am strong-armed into being tech-savvy--here we are at the most random virtual esquina you've ever visited.

I think writing a blog has been so difficult in the past because to me--it is like reality TV. (Something that come hell or high water, I will not succumb to).  As much as I think my thoughts and views are interesting....I am a realist, and I know that there are things out there...issues and anecdotes etc. that are way more entertaining than Lalo's latest pearl of wisdom (at least part of the time).

Well let's pay that no never mind (give yourself a Southern accent when you read that, much more fun that way), no more self-deprecating speech--let me mention something worth your time.

Oatmeal Cookie Martinis....

Now that is a drink worth mentioning. (you'll notice my propensity for beverages of the spirited kind). Absolutely like a dessert in a glass. Fetch Bar and Grill (do not have the exact address--but google it--they have not paid for the full advertisement) on the Upper East Side makes it. If you like Oatmeal cookies (and vodka)--it is worth the trip.

And this is my entry for today--up next a paid assignment on Childhood Obesity....( a girl's gotta eat).


If this didn't float your boat--even with my 2nd ironic association there at the very end--there is always tomorrow.