Top Ten Reasons Why Turning 31 is Better Than Turning 21!

Happy 31st Birthday to ME! To Celebrate the 10th Anniversary of my 21st Birthday I have come up with a list of


THE TOP TEN REASONS WHY TURNING 31 IS BETTER THAN TURNING 21:

10. I don't have to sit through an 8am Micro Economics class today

9. I do not feel pressured to do 31 shots of anything named after promiscuous females

8. I will not have to collect empty cans and bottles off my basement floor to get cash for breakfast tomorrow

7. Going to work today does not involve a walkie-talkie, a cash register, or an apron

6. I do not have to spend several hours today renewing my driver's license. (Who remembers the rainbow turtleneck??)

5. College guys still hit on me, only now I don't want em!

4. My peer group consists of Lawyers, Doctors, and Educators, NOT Frat Pigs, Sorostitutes, and Trolls from LCC

3. Fewer keg parties = smaller waistline

2. If I accidentally got knocked up tomorrow it would be nbd

And the #1 Reason why turning 31 is better than turning 21: (drumroll..........) I NEVER HAVE TO TURN 30 AGAIN!!!!!

That Hasn't Happened For The Longest Time...

My Stream-of-Consciousness Ode to Summer

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

As the days grow longer and the lazy sun lingers high in the sky, pelting my city with stench-inducing heat, I stock every purse and bag with a spare stick of deodorant, lest I become one of the olfactory offenders packed tightly among other hurried passengers on the Q. My feet wear a dark, dusty coat of filth, which rises from the city street and clings to my sweaty toes as they grip tightly to the center strap of my flip flops, making a package of baby wipes both on my nightstand (for before-bed wipe downs) and in my bag a necessity if I want to retain one last vestige of cleanliness throughout July. The unemployed and transient litter the sidewalks with their slow-paced strolling and mid-afternoon margarita sipping as I struggle to navigate around them, in a constant battle against time to arrive promptly to work, rehearsal, a concert or performance. An urgency emerges to schedule each waking moment of my life with activities and travels which fully embrace and utilize the feigned “freedom” that summer implies. Freedom? I have not rested since April.

My laundry goes undone, un-emptied suitcases from last week’s trip make an easy transition to next week’s sojourn with the addition of a few clean pairs of underwear- the good ones, you never know who you’ll see. Leave the sports bra at home, you will not go running while you’re away. My evening meals, which used to take a page from Healthy Living, have morphed into beer-drenched, melted cheese affairs which, queued by a growling stomach, don’t begin until tomorrow approaches, reminding me that I’ve got more to do in the next 24 hours than my January self accomplished in a week.

There are kids everywhere- kicking trash down Flatbush Avenue, cutting me off on the sidewalk with razor scooters, and reading Curious George stories on the laps of their mothers, who drop them off at Day Care on the way to work. I watch mother and son closely, from Canal to 14th Street, remarking to myself how closely his tiny nose resembles hers, and wondering if mom, too, had white/ blonde hair as a child. The smells wafting from the street vendors are more pungent, more enticing, and more carnival-esque, evoking memories of my last few trips to Coney Island with people I love immensely, but hardly ever see.

My skin protests the solar attack, by summoning armies of itchy red bumps, that scream their anger more intensely with every minute I remain outdoors exposed and unprotected. My sunglasses slide continuously down the bridge of my slippery wet nose while I circle Madison Square Park, glancing longingly at the Mister Softee truck, trying to justify a vanilla cone with chocolate sprinkles by promises of additional squats that are never actually squatted. I will be wearing a bathing suit this weekend.

The days, while actually longer, feel more compact as I dart across town to make my next appointment. The hot exhaust from the crosstown bus is suffocating. The mounds of nightly trash which line the streets tower over me as I hurry past, making each footstep audible so as to warn any scavenging vermin of my approach and hopefully avoid a run-in. How do those men sleep on the street at night when it is this hot? Would they be offended if I gave them the carrots that no one has claimed in the office refrigerator? Ten minutes late is the new “on-time”, no need to text my delay.

When my alarm goes off at 6:15, the sun is already poking me through the sloppy gap in my dark curtains. Just 10 more minutes of sleep, please. Al says temperatures will reach 95 in the city today. I have a show after work tonight, so I’ll need to bring a change of clothes. I’ll sleep in on Saturday….er…I mean September.

Jeff Buckley, Lover You Should Have Come Over

Beautiful song. Been listening to it all day...



Looking out the door
I see the rain fall upon the funeral mourners
Parading in a wake of sad relations
As their shoes fill up with water

Maybe I'm too young
To keep good love from going wrong
But tonight, you're on my mind so
You never know

Broken down and hungry for your love
With no way to feed itWhere are you tonight?
Child, you know how much I need it.
Too young to hold on
And too old to just break free and run

Sometimes a man gets carried away,
When he feels like he should be having his fun
Much too blind to see the damage he's done
Sometimes a man must awake to find that, really,
He has no-one...

So I'll wait for you... And I'll burn
Will I ever see your sweet return?
Oh, will I ever learn?
Oh, Lover, you should've come over
Cause it's not too late.

Lonely is the room the bed is made
The open window lets the rain in
Burning in the corner is the only one
Who dreams he had you with him
My body turns and yearns for a sleep
That won't ever come
It's never over,
My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder
It's never over,
all my riches for her smiles when I slept so soft against her...
It's never over,
All my blood for the sweetness of her laughter...
It's never over,
She's a tear that hangs inside my soul forever...

But maybe I'm just too young to keep good love
From going wrong
Oh... lover you should've come over...

Yes, and I feel too young to hold on
I'm much too old to break free and run
Too deaf, dumb, and blind
To see the damage I've done
Sweet lover, you should've come over
Oh, love, well I'll wait for you
Lover, you should've come over
'Cause it's not too late.

New York Times Complaint Box

This guy hits the nail on the head! I have re-posted my comment to this post/ 2 cents below.

From The New York Times:
June 18, 2010, 11:07 am — Updated: 11:07 am -->
Complaint Box Abusive Customers
By JAMIE SMARR


Let’s face it, folks. The customer is not always right. In fact, some are just plain old abusive, cheap and crass. I say this not as a salesman but as a dyed-in-the-wool middle-class consumer.

I’m waiting in line at a fast-food restaurant while a coupon fight goes on in front of me, delaying me from my sweet, sweet weekly communion with a Southern Style Chicken Biscuit. No, the coupon does not say that you are entitled to a free iced latte. You show it to me as if I’m your lawyer, and it states plainly, “A free cup of coffee.” And, no, they are not the same thing...
read more



MY COMMENT TO THE ABOVE ARTICLE:


This post is so painfully accurate, that I cannot help but laugh to circumvent tears of frustration! I pride myself in being one of the single most considerate shoppers, pedestrians, and consumers to ever walk the planet! You see, it is for the greater good of society as a whole, that we complete our daily tasks as efficiently as possible, avoiding undue delay or incident at all costs. I was taught this lesson at a very young age (thank you Mom!).

After moving to New York, however and being suddenly bombarded by not only inconsiderate locals, but flighty, slower-than-molasses tourists, I was rudely awakened to just how agonizing midday transactions in Manhattan can be! Just yesterday I was in line at Old Navy on my lunch break- a trip I could have easily confined to 30 minutes if not for inconsiderate shoppers. I was next in line when the woman at the register ahead of me realized that the coupon she was trying to use was for conditioned upon purchases being OVER $50 (a fact that was clearly printed on said coupon). Her purchase, however, amounted to a mere $49, and with the encouragement of the cashier (who is also now on my sh**list!) proceeded to suspend progress on the line while she perused the surrounding area for an item to purchase for the additional requisite $1.00!

Are you kidding me?! Is the cashier REALLY allowing this to happen? Is the fact that I am clearly dressed in business casual attire, shopping at $1:00 pm on a Thursday afternoon, and glancing frantically and repeatedly at my watch going unnoticed by all offending parties?!
Eventually, another register opened up, and after my transaction was completed (these flip flops better be the best I’ve ever purchased) the coupon-challenged customer was STILL trying to raise her total to the appropriate level for coupon use.

Let me just go on the record as saying: “I WOULD NEVER knowingly and willingly hold up an entire line of lunchtime shoppers as a result of my own short sightedness!” Not only that, but I always have my payment ready IN-HAND before I reach the register so as to further speed up the process, not only for my own benefit, but for the general benefit of a smooth-running commercial environment.

Shame on you Old Navy shopper for robbing me of 5 minutes of my life. I hope you enjoy the sh** out of that $3.00 Old Navy branded Frisbee you didn’t even want but added as an afterthought so you could use your precious coupon.— Talia

My Improv Team, THE BAKERY

Hey friends, I recently joined a new improv team, called THE BAKERY, choc-full of amazing, talented improvisers! We have shows regularly around NYC, and are already receiving positive BUZZ in the improv community!

Check us out sometime if you are so inclined!

~T

Man falls onto tracks in front of oncoming N Train

I was just waiting for the downtown N train at 8th Street in Manhattan. I had my eyes closed while I waited and as I heard the train approach, the train horn sounded and one of the people on the platform shouted! I opened my eyes to see the train halt mid-station and a crowd of people rush toward 1 car where they were saying a man was trapped underneath. I did not see him fall/ jump onto the tracks but one bystander said that he just got up and walked off the edge of the platform as the train came. Apparently he was responsive at first and everyone was screaming for him to remain still. Within minutes police arrived and asked the crowd on the platform, which now included all of the passengers who had been on the N train, to exit the station.

I went upstairs and waited to see if the man was going to be alright. Emergency responders- fire trucks and ambulances arrived immediately. Within 5 minutes they came up the stairs with the man on a stretcher, and before I could avert my eyes, or remove myself from the situation, I saw that he had no legs. Presumably the train had severed both legs at the knee. I could not tell if he was alive, but that image of the torn flesh will remain in my brain forever. God help this man.