Archive for the 'New York Fugging City' Category

What I Saw, Part II

Published at October 16, 2009 in New York Fugging City, Female trouble and Anxious masculinity. 0 Comments

Remember how I was so surprised a few weeks ago to see a woman on the back of a NYC Sanitation truck for the first time in 13 years here?

I just came back from a trip to Montreal, and the very first garbage truck I saw there had a woman on the back of it.

Methinks there might be a bit of provincialism/protectionism in the NYC Sanitation union.  But as someone on the City Council told a firefighter who was complaining about diversity meaning that guys whose fathers and uncles and brothers were firefighters couldn’t be assured of following in their footsteps:  It’s a civil service job. It’s not the family business.

Me!Me! Roth must be pleased

Published at October 3, 2009 in Edumacation, Food, Political theater, New York Fugging City and I see fat people. 4 Comments

The NYC Board of Ed — which of course really means Mayor Bloomberg nowadays — has effectively banned bake sales. In the name of — say it with me — fighting obesity.

The problem I have with this is that the bake sales became necessary because of funding cuts; vending machines and bake sales and whatnot didn’t become common until the Reagan-era tax cuts and resulting slashing of school financing. So if you aren’t going to restore funding for sports programs and uniforms and clubs and activities, AND you take away their ability to make money to cover the costs that the city’s not providing, then you’ve just hamstrung your sports programs. Which might not be the most effective way to “fight obesity,” given that physical activity is generally considered an important part of that, if you’re actually serious about “fighting obesity” and not just putting on a show of being tough.

It’s also yet another way to shift the focus from the structural and systemic issues to the individual, putting the sole responsibility on the individual to fix the problem rather than on the system to fix the things that make it more difficult for individuals to fix things for themselves.

Now, Bloomberg actually has some ideas which *do* address systemic problems, such as the grocery gap, and I would even argue that his ban of trans fats and his requirement that chain restaurants post calorie counts of items also address a systemic issue, which is lack of information about what’s in the food or how many calories are actually in a “serving,” without which you can’t really make informed choices about your food. But all this ban is going to do is exacerbate the original problem, which is the underfunding of schools. Until you’re ready to fix that by raising taxes on your rich friends, don’t take away the workaround.

What the fuck? No, really, what the fucking fuck?

Published at June 23, 2009 in Money, Rich fucks and New York Fugging City. 3 Comments

We’re selling naming rights to subway stations now?

If a $4 million deal is approved on Wednesday, the nexus of subway stops at Atlantic Avenue, Pacific Street and Flatbush Avenue in Downtown Brooklyn will add an additional name to its already lengthy title: Barclays.

This may seem odd, since Barclays is a bank based in London with offices in Manhattan, and the only Barclay Street on the city map is not even in Brooklyn. (It’s in Manhattan, in the financial district.)

Oh, but guess who’s behind this little deal?

There will, however, soon be a Barclays Center, the sports arena planned as the focal point of the Atlantic Yards project, and the developer, Forest City Ratner, has agreed to pay the transportation authority $200,000 a year for the next 20 years to rename one of the oldest and busiest stations in the borough.

I might have known. The MTA and Forest City Ratner are awfully cozy these days.  And the Times blithely rolls along with cute little gosh-that’s-a-mouthful jokes and largely uncritical coverage of the massive boondoggle that is Atlantic Yards.

Well, that explains a lot

Published at June 16, 2009 in Gardening and New York Fugging City. 0 Comments

I’ve been wondering why the plants in Windowbox #2 are thriving while the ones in Windowbox #1 are kind of sparse and yellowed.  Then, this morning, I heard a lot of water running and saw that the upstairs neighbor was tossing water or something out the window.  Luckily, it’s just water, but it does mean my plants have been getting overwatered without my knowledge.  She’ll stop that, and with luck, the plants in that box will rally.

Make up your mind, Mike

Published at February 12, 2009 in Rich fucks, Political theater and New York Fugging City. 6 Comments

I just heard on WNYC that Mike Bloomberg — who, you may remember, was a Democrat, then became a Republican to run for mayor because he had a better chance of winning a primary what with the lack of a deep bench (and benchwarmers) on the Republican side, hosted the Republican National Convention, then became an independent when he was term-limited and couldn’t run for mayor again, then decided he wanted to be mayor again after all because he was, in his own mind, irreplaceable, and got the City Council to do an end-run around the twice-approved-by-voters term limits by fiat, and now is talking with the Republicans about rejoining the party and running on their ticket.

Got all that?

Now, billionaire Bloomberg self-finances his campaigns. He’s the mayor, and has been for years. He’s got name recognition up the wazoo. He could easily run as an independent. So why the footsie with the Republicans again?

One benefit of the crashing economy

Published at February 1, 2009 in Real estate and New York Fugging City. 2 Comments

Renter’s market!

After I read that article, I poked around Craigslist for apartments in Manhattan.  Damn.  Lots of them that are very close to what I’m paying now, with no fee, and some close enough to walk to work.  One of the things that I *don’t* like about where I live now is that, while I’m geographically closer to work than I was over in Kensington, the commute time is about the same because I have such a long walk/bus ride to the subway.  So I spend an hour and a half to two hours daily commuting.

If I could get a place in Manhattan, I could cut that down to half an hour or less.  I’d love to have an extra hour in my day to walk the dog, go to the gym, hang out with friends, do something crafty, or just relax.  Or sleep later.  And if I lived much closer to work, I might even be able to use a dogwalker only on the days when I have class, thereby saving some cash.

Not only are rents coming down, but a lot of landlords are paying the exorbitant broker fees (I saw lots of listings from brokers stating that there was no fee — which can run $12,000 or more — or that the fee was covered by the landlord) and they’re being a little more forgiving about credit.  Which is less of an issue for me than it was last summer, since I’ve paid off most of my debts, certainly all the ones which I was behind on.  But I’d been certain that I’d have to wait at least a year before making any kind of move in order to build up a good reputation again.  Not anymore!

Other than the expense and hassle of moving, I don’t really see a downside to doing this.  I don’t have a lease to break here; even if I sign a lease somewhere else and rents continue to fall, I can renegotiate or leave at the end of it; if I get a rent-stabilized place, that affords me some protection from increases; I’d get closer to work, which means I recapture time in my day; there are even 1 BRs in my price range, so I could put a door between me and the cats; I could afford Manhattan.

The three bags of mail weren’t the end of it

Published at June 9, 2008 in Kitties, Domesticity, New York Fugging City, Life with pets, Vanity and Junebug. 8 Comments

Oh, yes. I found more. Another two boxes filled with paper and files that need to be shredded or filed.

The worst part was that I found those boxes at the very end of my move-out, which took literally all day Sunday — I got up at 5:30, started clearing out/packing up at 6, the movers came at 8:45, they finished getting my stuff into storage at 1:30, then I went back to finish loading up my stuff and cleaning out the crap I was throwing out. Having the buyer come at 7 proved to be overly ambitious, since I only finished with the final clearout at 10:30 and finished getting my stuff into the new place at 11:30 pm. We wound up doing the walkthrough, then I left the keys with my broker, who lives in the building, and the buyer picked them up in the morning.

I wound up throwing out massive amounts of stuff that had been shoved into the back of the closet, plus an unconscionable amount of perfectly good food that I just couldn’t transport.

The cats went over in the first carload of stuff at 7:30. Had I not had help getting the stuff up the stairs, I would probably still be unloading. Fortunately, the woman I’m subletting from helped me with the first carload, and then my friends J and G, from whom I borrowed the car, came with me on the second trip and drove back. They took pity on me because I was on the verge of tears from being hot, exhausted, undernourished (I think I’d had a peanut butter sandwich, coffee, hummus and some pop tarts all day), dehydrated and despairing. Plus, they wanted their car back.

No Junebug at this sublet; she’s with J and G until August. It’s a cute little apartment in Clinton Hill, in a brownstone. The neighborhood reminds me a lot, as far as the architecture goes, of Brooklyn Heights, with that mix of brownstones, wooden houses, brick mansions and big stone churches. I’ve discovered the good coffee shops already. There’s an air conditioner in the apartment, but it’s the kind that vents through a hose, and the hose came detatched some time in the night, meaning that the thing was blasting hot air into the apartment. I thought the heat had come on in the room where the A/C is, since the baseboard heaters were hot. Jen, the woman I’m renting from, is coming over later to help me fix the hose. There will be duct tape involved.

The cats, being furry, are not happy with this state of affairs. Sugarplum, as is her wont, has camped out in the tub, while Zuzu just splays herself on the floors. None of us are eating much in this heat, but I’m a little worried they’re not drinking enough water, and I know dehydration is really bad for cats. Ceiling Cat knows I had dehydration issues yesterday — I had at least four liters of water and only peed twice all day.

Race day

Published at November 3, 2007 in Sports, New York Fugging City and Vanity. 3 Comments

Did my road race today.  Yay me!

Note to self: bring your number, and not just the safety pins, next time.

Also: Running seems to be very popular among the Dutch, judging from the number of people in orange in the race.

Things I should have gotten a picture of

Published at August 26, 2007 in Food, New York Fugging City and Fun Stuff. 10 Comments

And I even had my camera on me, too.

I was at a tiny farmer’s market in Park Slope today, where I bought roughly 20 pounds of tomatoes (yay fresh tomatoes! Yay sauce!), plus assorted fruit (plums! raspberries!) and vegetables (jalapenos! red and yellow peppers! garlic!). Skipped the pickle guy, even though his stuff looked good.

The last booth on the way back to the subway was that of Bubba Rose Biscuit Co., a doggy bakery based in Park Slope. The woman in the booth had a lot of tattoos, and it wasn’t until I was getting my change from her that I noticed the tattoo she had on her right bicep:

Mr. T’s head. Atop a cupcake.

Well! That was fun.

Published at August 12, 2007 in New York Fugging City, Vanity and Dipshittery. 4 Comments

So I’m out walking my dog this morning, and the guy down the street is standing on the sidewalk, trimming his hedges with an electric hedge trimmer.

hedge-trimmer.jpg

Just as I’m walking behind him, he takes a step back and swings the still-running* trimmer to the side, without looking.

Right at my stomach.

Fortunately, I happened to be holding the leash in front of me, so the blades caught that, the leash became stuck between the two rows of blades, and the thing stopped running.

It took a lot of tugging and a lot of “Don’t turn it on again!” and cursing to get the leash extricated and get me the hell away from him.

And now I have pancakes.

_________

* I should clarify: he’d released the trigger, so it was not going full-bore, but while it had slowed, it hadn’t stopped.