Last week, I submitted a similar version of a post below about my commuting woes to The Journal News. My intent was to elicet reform. Well, I got a call from the editor today and apparently they thought it was... funny. Interesting. Okay, well I'll go with it. I'm a former "Writer" so being published is always cool. They tell me it will be in Wednesday's Letter to the Editor section. When I started this blog, my husband said to me, "I think you're trying to get in touch with your inner writer." Maybe he's right...
Anyway, hope I don't get booted from the bus after publically trashing the company.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Thursday, December 7, 2006
O Christmas Tree!
Last night David and I finally had a few extra minutes to buy this year's Christmas Tree! I can get a bit intense around this time of year. I had a Dec. 1st deadline for getting the tree, but we didn't make it. Mainly my own fault as I enjoy spending 15 hours a week commuting. But when I'm not cheerfully hanging out on the bus for fun, I'm milking every little minute out of Christmastime I can. Last year, our obscenely fat tree stayed up until February, despite the annoyance that it would break skin whenever anyone made physical contact with it. But it didn't matter; it still looked alive, which was enough for me. So there it stayed.
This year, "the plan" was to pick out our tree during daylight hours to get a better sense of size and proportion, but that wasn't going to happen. So after GNY's Annual Luncheon and before Montclair band practice and shopping, we ventured over to Stony Point's Fire House where they seemed to have a good selection. I followed David's lead in choosing our tree since I was responsible for last year's, which I thought was beautiful, even if it was enormous and freakishly fat (the look on people's faces as they searched for what to say was classic).
Unfortunately, my perfectionist side tends to rear its ugly head when it comes time to setting up the tree. Therefore, I plead the 5th.
I also won't get into the oddity of our neighbor's guests parking in the middle of our shared driveway so that no one can come or go. What is that? Sheer laziness to walk 5 more feet? I liked being asked, "oh do we need to move?" Uhhhmm noo... my go-go gadget equipped Escape can handle it. Oh and please don't rush! Me, David and the 9 foot tree - we'll just wait by the curb for 15 minutes while you say your good-byes.
Anyway, when you look at our tree look in the right-hand corner. See the penguins (coolest thing ever... thanks mom!)? Do you see the resemblance? It's uncanny, but not intentional. Right now the tree looks a little... bent... but once it opens up it will be… perfect.
Click here and watch the penguins in action
This year, "the plan" was to pick out our tree during daylight hours to get a better sense of size and proportion, but that wasn't going to happen. So after GNY's Annual Luncheon and before Montclair band practice and shopping, we ventured over to Stony Point's Fire House where they seemed to have a good selection. I followed David's lead in choosing our tree since I was responsible for last year's, which I thought was beautiful, even if it was enormous and freakishly fat (the look on people's faces as they searched for what to say was classic).
Unfortunately, my perfectionist side tends to rear its ugly head when it comes time to setting up the tree. Therefore, I plead the 5th.
I also won't get into the oddity of our neighbor's guests parking in the middle of our shared driveway so that no one can come or go. What is that? Sheer laziness to walk 5 more feet? I liked being asked, "oh do we need to move?" Uhhhmm noo... my go-go gadget equipped Escape can handle it. Oh and please don't rush! Me, David and the 9 foot tree - we'll just wait by the curb for 15 minutes while you say your good-byes.
Anyway, when you look at our tree look in the right-hand corner. See the penguins (coolest thing ever... thanks mom!)? Do you see the resemblance? It's uncanny, but not intentional. Right now the tree looks a little... bent... but once it opens up it will be… perfect.
Click here and watch the penguins in action
Monday, December 4, 2006
I threw someone under said bus
I have to make a public apology. Someone feels I have thrown him under the bus. Fortunately no one knows this blog exists, but since he feels like I have made him public enemy number one... I will say this: I feel my husband was not the alarm clock radio station changing culprit. I was implying Mr. Shane made the switch. I thought his silence implied guilt.
Also, yes I am dramatic. But I do not take the phrase "I got hit by the bus" lightly because I have in fact been hit by a bus. A Montclair State bus to be specific. However, for those I've offended - I also apologize.
Also, yes I am dramatic. But I do not take the phrase "I got hit by the bus" lightly because I have in fact been hit by a bus. A Montclair State bus to be specific. However, for those I've offended - I also apologize.
To Commute is synonymous with To Be Miserable
Every now and then one of those inevitable days when everything goes wrong hits you like a Coach USA bus. It’s a fact of life. One I’ve learned to accept. Today I got hit by the bus.
It started at 6:00 a.m. I did not want to admit that my alarm clock was blaring five inches from my head. Denial is just not effective in a case like this. Which reminds me, someone has changed the radio station on my alarm clock to one that I do not appreciate waking up to. No one wants to hear Lenny Kravitz or Aerosmith or Gunz & Roses at the crack of dawn (do you?). It’s just inviting you to start the day grumpy. Anyway that someone said he didn’t do it and Mr. Shane had no response when I interrogated him.
I hit the snooze button 4 times this morning, each time waking up to some middle age + man screaming about something thereby evoking this rant and rave within me. When I finally got out of bed at 6:28 a.m. things were going good until I realized I left my brush in my car. I chose looking disheveled all day over running out to my car in the cold to get it. I’ll just hide in my office and hope no one comes to see me.
Next was my 20 minute journey to the bus stop. That was uneventful. Thank God for small favors. When I got on the bus I found a seat on the outside with no one sitting behind it. This is key because then I can set my seat into the reclining position and hope that today will be the day I can fall asleep. My good fortune was short-lived. The man getting on the bus behind me chose the seat behind mine and actually pushed it out of it’s reclining position. Thought that was a bit pushy. So now I was sitting at a 90 degree angle. Quite uncomfortable.
Usually, a few minutes after departure the blazing heat kicks in and I’m usually cursing the bus driver. But today, the AC is on, or at least it feels like it. It’s pretty cold outside, so my feet begin to freeze first and then my nose and the hands, etc. Finally a blessed soul shouts from the back of the bus, “Can you turn the heat on!” Thank goodness. Minutes later when the climate hasn’t improved, a group from the back of the bus simultaneously yells the same plea. The plea then spreads to the front of the bus like a wave until the driver announces that the heat is broken.
For $65 a week, us Rockland County commuters deserve better. Have a heart Coach USA. Seriously. No heat on the coldest day this season?
Okay so I am almost done with this ridiculously long and boring rant. I got off the bus at Bryant Square Park and headed for the
train. Going against the herd of zombie like NYers (clearly jaded from being veteran commuters) I see an oldish man directly in my path. I cannot move. To my right is a wall to my left is another wall of unyielding executive types. The old man makes eye contact with me. There is an unspoken dialog, “I can’t move. You move.” I don’t think he wants to move. He gets closer. He’s maintaining eye contact. He coughs in my face. He moves over. Did this just happen? I turn around and do my best impression of Sara Jessica Parker in the opening credits of Sex and the City.
It started at 6:00 a.m. I did not want to admit that my alarm clock was blaring five inches from my head. Denial is just not effective in a case like this. Which reminds me, someone has changed the radio station on my alarm clock to one that I do not appreciate waking up to. No one wants to hear Lenny Kravitz or Aerosmith or Gunz & Roses at the crack of dawn (do you?). It’s just inviting you to start the day grumpy. Anyway that someone said he didn’t do it and Mr. Shane had no response when I interrogated him.
I hit the snooze button 4 times this morning, each time waking up to some middle age + man screaming about something thereby evoking this rant and rave within me. When I finally got out of bed at 6:28 a.m. things were going good until I realized I left my brush in my car. I chose looking disheveled all day over running out to my car in the cold to get it. I’ll just hide in my office and hope no one comes to see me.
Next was my 20 minute journey to the bus stop. That was uneventful. Thank God for small favors. When I got on the bus I found a seat on the outside with no one sitting behind it. This is key because then I can set my seat into the reclining position and hope that today will be the day I can fall asleep. My good fortune was short-lived. The man getting on the bus behind me chose the seat behind mine and actually pushed it out of it’s reclining position. Thought that was a bit pushy. So now I was sitting at a 90 degree angle. Quite uncomfortable.
Usually, a few minutes after departure the blazing heat kicks in and I’m usually cursing the bus driver. But today, the AC is on, or at least it feels like it. It’s pretty cold outside, so my feet begin to freeze first and then my nose and the hands, etc. Finally a blessed soul shouts from the back of the bus, “Can you turn the heat on!” Thank goodness. Minutes later when the climate hasn’t improved, a group from the back of the bus simultaneously yells the same plea. The plea then spreads to the front of the bus like a wave until the driver announces that the heat is broken.
For $65 a week, us Rockland County commuters deserve better. Have a heart Coach USA. Seriously. No heat on the coldest day this season?
Okay so I am almost done with this ridiculously long and boring rant. I got off the bus at Bryant Square Park and headed for the
train. Going against the herd of zombie like NYers (clearly jaded from being veteran commuters) I see an oldish man directly in my path. I cannot move. To my right is a wall to my left is another wall of unyielding executive types. The old man makes eye contact with me. There is an unspoken dialog, “I can’t move. You move.” I don’t think he wants to move. He gets closer. He’s maintaining eye contact. He coughs in my face. He moves over. Did this just happen? I turn around and do my best impression of Sara Jessica Parker in the opening credits of Sex and the City. I love New York.
Sunday, December 3, 2006
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
