Haircare Blues

I read a post on Jezebel written by a black woman complaining that she couldn't find anywhere to have her hair done in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn because the salons there don't cater to clients with "African" hair.  Yes, in a perfect world, any licensed beautician should be able to do any kind of hair, but we don't live in a perfect world.  Frankly, I'd rather have my hair done by someone who either has hair like mine or is accustomed to working with hair like mine than someone who is unfamiliar with the kind of hair I have.  

Subway Observations

On my way to work this morning, I saw a woman with tattoos on her feet.  She had a tattoo of a man in a panama hat one one foot and something I can't remember on the other.  What kind of people have their feet tattooed???  I kept thinking that must have hurt like hell.

On the way home from work, this woman proceeded to talk loudly to herself from Manhattan to Brooklyn.  She wasn't a your typical self-talker though.  She didn't look homeless and she wasn't old.  She looked like she was in her late 20s or early 30s and well-dressed.  But she was nuts.  Talking and cursing about how she'd been wronged by someone.  People, wisely, ignoring her ranting but I wanted to clap when she got off the train at Jay Street. 

It's been a long week.

Clean Hands

Clean Hands is available for sale on Amazon.  Yea!

http://www.amazon.com/Clean-Hands-ebook/dp/B009EUCDFC/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1348530414&sr=1-2&keywords=clean+hands

An Open Letter to Mittens and Wife

Dear Mittens R-money and Mrs. R-money:

You two have forced me to abandon my self-imposed rule to make this blog largely apolitical in nature.  Who are you people?  Are you really Michiganders?  Were you truly born in Detroit?  Detroiters are scrappy.  Detroiters don't whine.  Detroiters aren't aloof to economic hardship and the suffering of others.  Michiganders know what hard times are like.  What's the expression?  When the country gets a cold, Michigan catches the flu?  Perhaps you both are no longer truly Michiganders.  Perhaps you've been gone from the mitten state for too long to truly understand what real Michiganders are like.  Maybe you're both too far removed from reality to know what your fellow citizens are going through.

What the F, Part Deux

In anticipation of this weekend's service disruption on the F line, I planned to hit my local Trader Joe's on the way home from work today.  Unfortunately, the F train was f-ed up early!  A disabled train was stuck at the 7th Street stop so everything was messed up.  The announcer on the F train I was on told everyone at West 4th Street that the train would terminate at Second Avenue, so I got off that train and caught the A train to Jay Street.  No F trains were running at all at Jay Street, so I walked down to the Atlantic Terminal, caught the Q there, and walked home from the Church Avenue stop.  What a pain!  What a hassle!  At least I had on comfortable shoes and the weather's lovely tonight, so I didn't mind huffing it a little.

What the F?

I just found out the F train will be down and out in my part of Brooklyn again this weekend.  It was just down two weeks ago! And, once again, the subway will be down during the Brooklyn Book Fair.  The same thing happened last year and I complained to borough president Marty Markowitz.  (A lot of good THAT did.)  Yes, shuttle buses will be available, but it's still a pain.  Getting around when the subways aren't running is a huge problem.  Doesn't the MTA realize how much people depend on the subway around here?  Apparently not.

Sleeping Beauty

We're all tired. Tired from work. Tired from dealing with others. Tired from life in general. But that doesn't mean you take a nap on the person sitting next to you on the subway! The guy sitting next to me on the F train this morning kept falling asleep and leaning his head on my shoulder! Then I'd shove him off, he'd apologize, and then fall asleep and the whole sad routine would start all over again. Finally, I just got up and offered the seat to a woman who was standing, telling her she was welcome to sit next to Sleeping Beauty. She, wisely, declined the offer. If you're that tired, maybe it's time for a second cup of coffee. Don't make a stranger your own personal pillow!

Hardcore Pawn

Lately, I've been watching the TruTV show "Hardcore Pawn."  For those not familiar with the show, it focuses on a pawn shop in Detroit.  The show is a hot mess:  ridiculous, ghetto, and strangely entertaining.  I don't know who's worse, the people who come in to pawn their stuff or the family running the pawn shop.  The way the family members talk to each other is awful.  And the customers who come into the shop to pawn their goods are awful, too.  My hometown is not shown in a good light on this show, but that's what, sadly, makes it so entertaining.  I read that "Hardcore Pawn" is the highest rated show on TruTV.  Clearly, I'm not the only one watching these shenanigans.

Holding the Huffy

During these last remaining days of summer, I've been trying to get outside and walk in Prospect Park as much as possible before it turns cold and dark.  It's during these walks that I really miss having a bicycle.  When I moved to Brooklyn from New Jersey nearly three years ago, I got rid of my bike, figuring it was just one more thing that would take up space in my apartment.  However, I now regret that decision.  Yes, it would have been one more thing to take up space in my apartment, but I also would have used it more than I did when I lived in Jersey.  I could have ridden my KMart Huffy to Prospect Park and beyond.  Now if I want to get around the park, I have only my two feet to take me from one part of the park to the next.  New York is suppposed to get a bike-sharing business next year (since things didn't work out this year to get the program organized), and I'm looking forward to that, provided rental kiosks are actually available in Brooklyn near the park.  I could always buy a bike but, as with everything else in New York, bicycles are incredibly expensive.  And I'm not talking about those wonderbikes that I see Lycra-clad people whizzing through the park riding.  I'm talking about plain old ten- or three-speed bikes (preferably one with a little basket attached to the handlebars).  Good luck finding a bike for around $100 in this city.  I could kick myself for not holding on to my Huffy.

Ban on Big Pop

Well, Mayor Bloomberg must be happy that the Board of Health approved his ban on big pop.  (Being a Detroiter who now lives in Brooklyn, I'm sticking with "pop" over "soda."  Suck it, New Yorkers!)  Obesity is a problem not only in New York but throughout the country.  However, banning large soft drinks won't solve the problem.  So you cut the size of a Coke down to 16 ounces.  That doesn't stop someone from enjoying that Coke with a Big Mac, large fries, and an apple pie.  Food and drink both contribute to obesity, but I don't see Bloomberg advocating for a reduction in the size of a Baconator (at least not yet).

If someone wants a 32 ounce Coke or Mountain Dew, then I feel that person should have it.  If someone wants to eat three Big Macs, that person should do so.  Selling large portions of any food or pop shouldn't be against the law.  Bloomberg should have tried to lobby businesses like restaurants and movie theaters to reduce the sizes of their portions rather than forcing an across-the-board ban. I really hope this pop ban is overturned and never becomes law.  It's just one more example of government overreach. 

Keep the Lights On

I saw the indie film Keep the Lights On and found it interesting.  I also had a troubling reaction to it that I'll explain.  First, for those who don't know, the movie focuses on the relationship between a documentary filmmaker and his boyfriend who works in publishing and is also addicted to crack.  It's based on the real relationship between filmmaker Ira Sachs and literary agent Bill Clegg.  I read Bill Clegg's autobiography about being in drugs during his relationship with Sachs, so I was curious to see the movie version from Sachs's point of view.  The movie version was a lot more graphic than I thought it would be, but I quickly got over that.  Throughout the movie, you get a front row seat to witness the trials and tribulations of this couple as they deal with one partner's drug addiction.  While I did feel sympathy for the director who was in a constant state of worry over his boyfriend who would disappear for days on a drug binge, I actually felt a little more sympathy for the drug addict. In spite of his addiction, he managed to hold down a job, something he constantly threw in the face of his filmmaker boyfriend who didn't work a regular job, had been working on a documentary for years, and whose income seemed largely bankrolled by his family.  I think I found myself taking the side of the addict more because, as previously mentioned, (A) he held down a job, (B) he actually seemed to be the practical person in the relationship (except when he was drugged out, of course),  (C) he was American (the filmmaker boyfriend was German), and (D) he was better looking.  I'll admit it, one of the reasons I felt more sympathy for the crack addict was because he was better looking.  That's terrible, I know, but it's the truth. 

Grammatically Challenged

I was reviewing the profiles of single men on a website recently and I was totally disappointed with the terrible writing skills shown by many of the men seeking women. How hard is it to write simple sentences that describe yourself and your hobbies? I like to go to the movies. I like to go dancing. Sentences like these aren't Shakespeare yet many men on the dating site (and these were men in their 40s) seemed simply unable to write a basic description of themselves. This is really sad. Some would blame the public school systems where these men were educated and while I'm sure a lousy public school education contributed to some people being grammatically challenged, I don't fully believe this is why grown men are writing sentences like, "How u doin?" I went to public schools and I learned how to read, write, and spell.

Doogie Howser, MD

I have had nothing but problems trying to find a primary care physician in New York.  I had such a great doctor when I lived in New Jersey, but finding someone just as great in New York has been a challenge.  I saw a new doctor today and he looked like a child.  Aside from being physically small (probably 5'4" or 5'5" at the most--an issue that I still believe is linked somehow to the environment in New York), he didn't even look like he weighed 100 pounds.  Oh, and did I mention he looked like a child?  He really looked like he was about 15 years old.  But, he seemed to be a nice guy and was very thorough.  I hope it works out or I'll be back on the hunt for someone else to deal with my occasional ailments. 

My Neighbor the PItA

My upstairs neighbor is really being a PItA tonight. (PItA stands for pain in the ass.) I don't know what he's doing up there but he's awfully loud doing it. At first I thought maybe he was rearranging furniture, but no one rearranges furniture for hours. Whatever he's doing, I wish he'd stop doing it. Communal living is annoying sometimes.

Summer Boots

Why oh why do women on the East Coast wear tall leather boots in the summer? This makes no sense to me. In Michigan, we wear leather boots when it's cold out, not when temps are in the 80s and 90s. I saw a woman yesterday wearing a nice summer dress with tall leather boots. Ridiculous!

The Stolen UHaul

When I read that a UHaul truck that the Secret Service rented to use during Joe Biden's visit to Detroit on Labor Day had been stolen outside of a downtown hotel, I was saddened, but not surprised.  I'm constantly complaining that Detroit gets a bad rap, but when things like this happen, it's hard to defend my hometown.  Yes, vehicles are stolen in Detroit.  Yes, crime occurs in the city.  But does that mean the entire place is a wasteland?  That no one in the city cares about anything or anyone?  No!  Detroiters have a lot of heart and many want the city to succeed and return to greatness.  But these tasks are hard to accomplish when hoodlums come out of the woodwork and gain all the glory (and media attention) with their misdeeds.  No one wants to hear about positive changes going on in the city when the headlines scream about every terrible thing that's going on.  Bad news gets more attention than good news, unfortunately.

Post-Labor Day Blues

Since Labor Day signals the end of summer, it's only fitting that today's weather in New York was cloudy and dreary.  Just perfect for the end of summer and the return to work and school.  Great (not really). 

Cut the Fat

I was on the F train this afternoon and saw another anti-obesity ad sponsored by the City of New York and wholly endorsed, I'm sure, by the mayor. The ad said "Cut the Fat" and had a picture of a chocolate covered donut for the letter c in cut, a double (or maybe it was a triple) cheeseburger for the letter e in the, and a stack of potato chips to replace some letter (I forget which) in the word fat. The only thing this ad did was make me want a donut, a cheeseburger, and some chips. Oh and I wanted to wash it all down with a big, sweet soft drink. I'm sure that's not the message the city is trying to get across here.