Before I get after it, let me give you a little backstory about my MOM. I mention her a lot not only because I'm a Momma's boy, but because she is a total CHARACTER. She comes from a large family. As the only girl in a litter of eight, living in a small three bedroom apartment, you can imagine what this woman went through. She's been hit in the face with baseballs and footballs. She's been put in more headlocks than Hulk Hogan. As a young woman she was even mugged and fought her way through it without harm, but the masked man got her purse. She chased the assailant four city blocks before the dude hopped a 10ft iron fence. At that point she figured, "Fuck it, if he's gonna try that hard, he can keep the god damned purse." And with her luck, she was forced to raise two wild animals that now pretend to be grown men.
She took in my grandparents when they got sick. And that was no easy task. Grandma had Alzheimer's and Grandpa, a retired alcoholic/lunatic, had become quiet, sneaky and as stubborn as a Donkey in Tijuana. After Grandma passed, Grandpa was so calm, but extremely sad. He sat at the keyboard and played all day every day until he died. My Mom really took care of them with every ounce of her being while putting up with the other three maniacs in the house simultaneously. Through it all, she's still standing. Even after being married to my father (who is also a character) a few different times over the course of a million years, but we'll touch upon that subject another day. She is a good woman with THICK SKIN, who likes to have a little fun.
Okay, so a few weeks back I was on the phone with my mother when she said (as she always does), "You wanna laugh?" "Yes" I say, "Of course." She began with, "So Brenda and I were reading the singles ads in the local paper on Sunday." Wait a second, Mom. You and Brenda are always up to no good and THE SINGLES ADS?! Come on! Pump the fucking brakes, would ya? "Are you shitting me," I say. "Gimme a break, it was just for laughs," she continued. Sure it was, Ma. So I say, "And where the hell was Dad?" "Outside cutting down a dead tree or something, who knows?" she said.
She went on to explain to me that one ad in particular caught her eye. It was the biggest one on the page. No wonder it caught her eye. She probably wasn't wearing her glasses. So a 73-year-old man posted something like this: SWM looking for companion 62-73 years...PETITE, enjoys walks, hiking, movies, golf, travel, pleasant personality, loves to laugh, consistent church goer, likes dining out and eating in, petite, well groomed... Please DO NOT contact me unless you are serious and fill ALL (PETITE) of the requirements. If so, Call....blah blah blah. He left his number.
I'm already hysterically laughing knowing exactly what my Mom will say next and sure enough..."Can you believe this fucking guy? What's with this petite bullshit?" "Most men want a woman in shape," I say. "In shape? He sounds like he's looking for one of those trainers on the Biggest Loser," she says. I shoot right back with, "Yeah one that reads the Bible while playing golf." We laughed for a second until I blurted out, "So when are you guys going out?" To which she responds, "Oh we're not going out. The guy was an asshole."
At that moment I realized my Mom had actually called the old geezer. Shit just got real. So picture the scene... My Mom and Brenda are probably having an apple-tini on a Sunday afternoon, laughing their asses off when the "CHRONICLE CONNECTION" section of the paper gives these two geniuses the idea to terrorize some old bag. "I'm glad you guys were acting your age," I say. "Sweetie, I'm 39. I believe I was acting my age and I can do whatever I want," she said.
So in the midst of a geriatric SUNDAY FUNDAY, my 39-year-old mother picks up the phone and dials. This is a scene straight out of The Jerky Boys or Crank Yankers. She told me she had hoped the man wouldn't answer so she could leave "a smart ass message" and "break his chops on the machine," but sure enough on the fourth ring a raspy voice on the other end says, "Uh (throat clear), Hello?"
She tells the guy he startled her by answering. She thought she would get THE MACHINE. What fucking machine is she even talking about? An answering machine, I guess. Do people still have land lines? I don't. So I say, "Do you mean VOICEMAIL, Ma?" "What the hell is that?" she says. "It's not the 80's anymore, Mom." "Leave me alone." At this point we're both laughing so hard she can barely get the story out, and neither of us can breathe. I'm not even sure it was that funny yet, but now you should buckle your safety belts because this is where it gets good.
Before the man can say anything else she says, "I think I have a doll in my closet that will fill all your requirements." This cracked her up of course. She was basically laughing in the man's face and all he said was hello. And as you may imagine, the man was not laughing. Then he said, "Do you think I was asking for too much?" "Are you kidding me," she said, "Even a 25-year-old marathon runner who models on the side would think that."
The man may have cracked a smile on that one because he continued the conversation. He told my Mom his name and the town he lived in. He then described his house and property, no doubt trying to impress her. Little does this poor sap know, NOTHING impresses my MOM. My guess would be she didn't even listen to that part. Then he asked, "What do you look like?" Before I give her response, I have to say she looks great for her age. I mean, for 39, she looks at least 37. So she told him, "Like Christie Brinkley in her prime." "Really," he said. "No, not really. I would say I'm average looking, but I've been told I'm above average." Here comes the zinger. He says, "Well, let me tell you up front that I am not looking for these big women I see in WALMART all the time. My wife (dead for 2 years) was very PETITE." Immediately my Mom shot back, "What the hell are you doing in WALMART all the time?"
I dropped the phone on the floor. I never laughed so hard in my life. After running around in circles like a 9-year-old school girl for two minutes, I picked the phone up and she was still there laughing at her own joke. Man, that runs in the family. Once we stopped giggling she said, "Honey, did I lose you. Honey? This damn machine!" "I'm right here, Ma." The story stopped for a moment because I said, "What the fuck is this class act doing hanging out in WALMART?" My mom laughed at me and said, "All the hillbillies and old fogies down here do their shopping at WALMART. Everything's so cheap." I went on a tirade telling her to stay the hell away from that place. She said, "I used to buy all my DVDs there cause they were so inexpensive, but now that everything on the MACHINE is On Demand I don't need to go there anymore and frolic with the toothless rednecks." Can you believe this woman? She knows how to use On Demand, and she calls everything a fucking MACHINE. I guess they are machines, but still. She calls her computer THE MACHINE, too. Unbelievable.
Back to the creepy phone call... My Mom went on to tell the guy her dimensions (which made me ill) yet I still laughed. Hard. 5'4, yada, yada and she told him her weight and said, "You think you can handle that, pal?" Do I need to remind everyone that THIS IS MY MOM talking like this? His response was, "Ohhhh." And before he could complete his thought she said, "You don't need a cow, I get it, but maybe it's time you try a woman with a little meat on her bones." She said she laughed her way through that comment almost peeing her pants and Brenda was rolling around on the floor, which I'm sure made this guy feel all warm and cuddly on the inside. His last words were, "I don't know." Famous last words.
And then, wait for it... my Mom said, "Well (his name), think about it. With all that eating in and dining out it sounds like you're planning on doing all the eating yourself and your COMPANION would have to watch you dine to fit your description. Personally, I think your mate would be hungry after a day of golfing 18 holes, saying a few OUR FATHERS, hiking the Everglades, watching the Godfather Trilogy, shaving her mustache all while laughing at your incredible jokes before you locked her in the basement for the night." He's speechless. "Don't forget, I have the perfect doll for you in my closet. She blows up and everything. She's totally PETITE. Great sense of humor." Again not a word, just breathing. Until, "Um?" he muttered. And then she finished the Mortal Kombat-like fatality with, "Well, okay. Good talk." She hangs up. She and Brenda were in stitches for at least a half hour and now I was too.
Thick skinned. Insane. Hilarious. Set in her ways. My mom could have fit right in with the rest of Tina Fey's "MEAN GIRLS." After laughing for a while I asked, "Why on Earth would you do that, Mom?" She just laughed and said, "The guy's an asshole. He probably thought he was talking to a baby elephant. I just wanted to leave him a message and tell him to GET REAL. Have a little fun. I'm not really sure why I went off like that, but he's 73 years old and thinks he's gonna find the perfect broad? Here? Anywhere? No way." I just said, "Maybe he will someday." "Maybe he will" she said, "But I'm not perfect...nobody is. It's about finding someone who is perfect for you. And if he didn't get my sense of humor, that's his problem. I was just having a little fun, kiddo." "By the way, where is Dad again?" I said. "Who knows?"
A few hours ago I asked my Mom if she ever heard back from the guy. Her answer, "NO. He's probably still in church praying for the perfect specimen to appear."
What can I say? She's a New Yorker.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
I am Back. I'm Back in New York Groove
Life has taken some strange twists and turns lately. Linsanity has left the building. R.A. Dickey is god. And I'm having a JANE EYRE-like awakening in this city. Confidence is a staple of this town. People are different here. They walk differently with a certain swagger and at an extremely fast pace. They talk differently with crisp accents and enthusiasm. And most of all they act differently. People are generally friendly and angry as shit. I can't seem to find the middle ground. They want different things here. They want more. No one is satisfied. I know my roots were planted here, but I'm not so sure I will hang my hat here for an eternity. This place could drive a midtown madman to the brink of sanity and make a sane man roll around in his own feces on 10th Avenue.
I grew up exactly 27 miles from New York City. One of my best friends grew up here in TriBeCa. My parents are from Brooklyn. My brother went to school here, so this isn't exactly foreign territory. I thought I knew this place oh so well, but boy did I have something coming. I'm 31, and have been living here almost a year and although I've spent time staying in the mecca for a few months at a pop over the last decade, it has never been home. Now, it's the only home I know.
I must say, NYC has many commendable qualities. The food is exquisite. There is a local watering hole on every corner. The art scene is fantastic from the MoMa to the WHITNEY to almost any gallery in Chelsea. The JETS and METS are a stones throw away, which I love. The architecture is astounding and the sight of wondrous design never gets old. A sunset over the Hudson is really something else. A rainy day day is shockingly refreshing and doesn't always require an umbrella. It's as if the raindrops absolve you of your sins as they run down your face. Or if it's hot and humid and smells like piss out there, you just feel like you're being tinkled on by the man upstairs. Still, I'll take it.
People are beautiful here; way more so than LA. Sorry Californians, it's a fact. Maybe it's the fashion sense or the fact not everyone is tan and shirtless, but beautiful people are surely abound. Maybe it's the models walking down the street eating hot dogs, wearing fancy shades. Maybe it's the tightness of the clothes that makes everyone look better. I really don't know. What I do know is the dedication to fashion and a finding a man has me admiring the women here. And the dedication to fashion and finding a man also has me admiring the men here.
The layout of the city is what I find most fascinating. It's ingenious. Unlike most other cities, the grid is perfect. Even it's faults shout perfection. I love the neighborhoods. There are so many. Anyone could find a place to live here and be happy. I love the constant change every few years, too. And you have to respect a neighborhood that stays the same. Here are a few examples:
Chelsea was not pretty in the 80's. It had the grunge of the LES. It's now home to some of the finest galleries in the land and has extremely coveted real estate. People want to live here. It's gorgeous.
Hell's Kitchen, which became the old Chelsea and is now following suit to become like the new Chelsea as well. HK is always changing. A once rough and tumble neighborhood now has expensive condos popping up and young people with money moving in.
TriBeCa is a great place to shop, eat and now live. I remember going to my friend's house in the 90's thinking the block he lived on was a shithole, even though the apartment was MINT. Today, it seems like the safest block in America.
The Financial District will always be the financial district, but artists are moving there because it's cheaper. Soon enough that neighborhood will change too.
NoLita, where the cool kids are. Little do they know it used to be a dump. The hipper and less snobby versions of UES women have inhabited this neighborhood faster than the Russians occupied Poland during WWII.
SOHO, always fashion forward and cool, but very touristy. The WEST VILLAGE is as hip and shady as ever. The East Village isn't just home to the sketchy folks anymore since it's gentrification by way of retired frat boys and young professional women. Oh, and don't forget the hipsters.
The grit and grunge of the LOWER EAST SIDE has remained, yet new restaurants, bars, and nightclubs pop up everyday so the wealthy bottom feeders aren't afraid to venture into the neighborhood. This frightens the locals. They can't lose that grit. Don't worry, they won't. The LES is definitely a great place to hang. Gramercy and Murray Hill have remained constant. Gramercy is getting better though and Murray Hill will always have the young crop of bankers and NYU grads moving right on in.
And then you have the UPPER EAST SIDE. This place is like being on MARS in comparison to SOHO. It's quaint, family oriented and offers a nice breeze off the East River. It's also very quiet up there which is a nice change of pace as we all know how hard it can be to find a quiet street. The UES used to be cool, now it's viewed as an affordable part of town for yuppies and families looking for their own niche. People wanted to be like the uptown crowd for a long time, but the artists changed that. They made downtown cool. Moving into studio spaces, showing work there and frequenting night spots in the area helped with the change. They weren't afraid to live in shady neighborhoods and that was just the beginning. Now, uptown might as well be Jersey. And make no mistake about it, the UES is frowned upon by all young, cool people. The chances of you getting your friends who live downtown to come visit you are slim to none. And as for the UPPER WEST SIDE, I don't know much about it. I haven't spent a great deal of time over there. Lincoln Center, the Museum of Natural History... and John Lennon... and even Nora Ephron lived there for over a decade, but she eventually moved to the UES. And HARLEM? The yuppies and hipsters are even moving up there. Who knew? There are so many more, but I would be here for days. Anyway, what do I know? I'm an amateur. You get the picture.
But what sticks out most is the people here are jaded. Despite all the beauty, culture, diversity, and spark this city has worn its residents thin, quite literally. But in turn has made their skin even thicker. Everyone is looking for a new job, but is afraid to take one. Everyone is looking for love, but no one wants it. People here are scared, quite frankly terrified of being alone. People want security, yet have none of their own.
It's strange for me to write such harsh words about a city that thrives on ambition and energy, but it's true. There isn't any room for mistakes here. There's no second place. Everybody has his or her own pace and it's hard to move someone off their beaten path. NYC is as unforgiving as they come, just like it's inhabitants. If you say the wrong thing, you're done. If you say the right thing, you may be done as well. Space out for two minutes; you're done. Finished. I don't want to be impressive. I just want to be me. If you don't like it, choke on it. I'll move at my own pace, thank you very much.
I said a while back, if you've been single long enough you become set in your ways and I meant it. It's how I was. Yet, I chose to break my own mold and gave it a shot. I played a hand. And you know what, I'm not afraid anymore. Fuck it. You can't win em all. Not everybody is willing to put up with your bullshit. And you're not willing to put up with everyone else's bullshit, but that's life JACK...and so the story goes. New York can be the loneliest place on Earth if you let it. So when you find somebody who's willing and able to put up with all of your shit, you push all your chips to the center of the table and go for it. Whether in New York, Detroit, Jacksonville, or Trenton it won't matter. But these New York women are tough, thick-skinned individuals. But that's what makes them great, I guess. Well that, and those awesome LuLu Lemon tights they're always wearing. They are confident and they will fuck you up for sure if you let them. So don't. As for the dudes, the jury's not out just yet.
I came here for a job, one I couldn't refuse. I came here for a girl, one I couldn't resist. I came here to change my life, one I couldn't escape. I came here to start over, so close to where it all began. And where am I now you ask? Back to SQUARE ONE. Now go get your fucking shine box, Tommy.
I grew up exactly 27 miles from New York City. One of my best friends grew up here in TriBeCa. My parents are from Brooklyn. My brother went to school here, so this isn't exactly foreign territory. I thought I knew this place oh so well, but boy did I have something coming. I'm 31, and have been living here almost a year and although I've spent time staying in the mecca for a few months at a pop over the last decade, it has never been home. Now, it's the only home I know.
I must say, NYC has many commendable qualities. The food is exquisite. There is a local watering hole on every corner. The art scene is fantastic from the MoMa to the WHITNEY to almost any gallery in Chelsea. The JETS and METS are a stones throw away, which I love. The architecture is astounding and the sight of wondrous design never gets old. A sunset over the Hudson is really something else. A rainy day day is shockingly refreshing and doesn't always require an umbrella. It's as if the raindrops absolve you of your sins as they run down your face. Or if it's hot and humid and smells like piss out there, you just feel like you're being tinkled on by the man upstairs. Still, I'll take it.
People are beautiful here; way more so than LA. Sorry Californians, it's a fact. Maybe it's the fashion sense or the fact not everyone is tan and shirtless, but beautiful people are surely abound. Maybe it's the models walking down the street eating hot dogs, wearing fancy shades. Maybe it's the tightness of the clothes that makes everyone look better. I really don't know. What I do know is the dedication to fashion and a finding a man has me admiring the women here. And the dedication to fashion and finding a man also has me admiring the men here.
The layout of the city is what I find most fascinating. It's ingenious. Unlike most other cities, the grid is perfect. Even it's faults shout perfection. I love the neighborhoods. There are so many. Anyone could find a place to live here and be happy. I love the constant change every few years, too. And you have to respect a neighborhood that stays the same. Here are a few examples:
Chelsea was not pretty in the 80's. It had the grunge of the LES. It's now home to some of the finest galleries in the land and has extremely coveted real estate. People want to live here. It's gorgeous.
Hell's Kitchen, which became the old Chelsea and is now following suit to become like the new Chelsea as well. HK is always changing. A once rough and tumble neighborhood now has expensive condos popping up and young people with money moving in.
TriBeCa is a great place to shop, eat and now live. I remember going to my friend's house in the 90's thinking the block he lived on was a shithole, even though the apartment was MINT. Today, it seems like the safest block in America.
The Financial District will always be the financial district, but artists are moving there because it's cheaper. Soon enough that neighborhood will change too.
NoLita, where the cool kids are. Little do they know it used to be a dump. The hipper and less snobby versions of UES women have inhabited this neighborhood faster than the Russians occupied Poland during WWII.
SOHO, always fashion forward and cool, but very touristy. The WEST VILLAGE is as hip and shady as ever. The East Village isn't just home to the sketchy folks anymore since it's gentrification by way of retired frat boys and young professional women. Oh, and don't forget the hipsters.
The grit and grunge of the LOWER EAST SIDE has remained, yet new restaurants, bars, and nightclubs pop up everyday so the wealthy bottom feeders aren't afraid to venture into the neighborhood. This frightens the locals. They can't lose that grit. Don't worry, they won't. The LES is definitely a great place to hang. Gramercy and Murray Hill have remained constant. Gramercy is getting better though and Murray Hill will always have the young crop of bankers and NYU grads moving right on in.
And then you have the UPPER EAST SIDE. This place is like being on MARS in comparison to SOHO. It's quaint, family oriented and offers a nice breeze off the East River. It's also very quiet up there which is a nice change of pace as we all know how hard it can be to find a quiet street. The UES used to be cool, now it's viewed as an affordable part of town for yuppies and families looking for their own niche. People wanted to be like the uptown crowd for a long time, but the artists changed that. They made downtown cool. Moving into studio spaces, showing work there and frequenting night spots in the area helped with the change. They weren't afraid to live in shady neighborhoods and that was just the beginning. Now, uptown might as well be Jersey. And make no mistake about it, the UES is frowned upon by all young, cool people. The chances of you getting your friends who live downtown to come visit you are slim to none. And as for the UPPER WEST SIDE, I don't know much about it. I haven't spent a great deal of time over there. Lincoln Center, the Museum of Natural History... and John Lennon... and even Nora Ephron lived there for over a decade, but she eventually moved to the UES. And HARLEM? The yuppies and hipsters are even moving up there. Who knew? There are so many more, but I would be here for days. Anyway, what do I know? I'm an amateur. You get the picture.
But what sticks out most is the people here are jaded. Despite all the beauty, culture, diversity, and spark this city has worn its residents thin, quite literally. But in turn has made their skin even thicker. Everyone is looking for a new job, but is afraid to take one. Everyone is looking for love, but no one wants it. People here are scared, quite frankly terrified of being alone. People want security, yet have none of their own.
It's strange for me to write such harsh words about a city that thrives on ambition and energy, but it's true. There isn't any room for mistakes here. There's no second place. Everybody has his or her own pace and it's hard to move someone off their beaten path. NYC is as unforgiving as they come, just like it's inhabitants. If you say the wrong thing, you're done. If you say the right thing, you may be done as well. Space out for two minutes; you're done. Finished. I don't want to be impressive. I just want to be me. If you don't like it, choke on it. I'll move at my own pace, thank you very much.
I said a while back, if you've been single long enough you become set in your ways and I meant it. It's how I was. Yet, I chose to break my own mold and gave it a shot. I played a hand. And you know what, I'm not afraid anymore. Fuck it. You can't win em all. Not everybody is willing to put up with your bullshit. And you're not willing to put up with everyone else's bullshit, but that's life JACK...and so the story goes. New York can be the loneliest place on Earth if you let it. So when you find somebody who's willing and able to put up with all of your shit, you push all your chips to the center of the table and go for it. Whether in New York, Detroit, Jacksonville, or Trenton it won't matter. But these New York women are tough, thick-skinned individuals. But that's what makes them great, I guess. Well that, and those awesome LuLu Lemon tights they're always wearing. They are confident and they will fuck you up for sure if you let them. So don't. As for the dudes, the jury's not out just yet.
I came here for a job, one I couldn't refuse. I came here for a girl, one I couldn't resist. I came here to change my life, one I couldn't escape. I came here to start over, so close to where it all began. And where am I now you ask? Back to SQUARE ONE. Now go get your fucking shine box, Tommy.
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