Tag Archives: subway

What Granny Wants

My love of the subway grows with every passing day. It’s so full of gifts… Or, in this case, gift suggestions:

This Christmas, why don’t you give granny some dick? Satisfaction guaranteed. 

While I’m pretty sure that DNAinfo.com wasn’t meaning to insinuate that we should all go out and get our Nanas laid, it certainly looks like that’s their suggestion… Am I right?

So, a couple things here:

1. Taking pictures of subway ads is harder than it looks, y’all: PEOPLE ARE ALWAYS SITTING IN FRONT OF THE GOOD PICTURES! And do you know how hard it is to be like, “Oh no, don’t worry, old dude who doesn’t speak English, I’m not taking a pic of you but I can’t explain that to you. No, woman who is clearly more conservative than I am, I’m not interested in a pic of you, it’s just that the poster above your head… I can make a crude sexual joke with it – don’t you see that it’s… no?” 

2. Also the people who believe that taking a picture of them will steal their soulThis is really a sub-point to point one, but I’m writing this on a Friday, so I don’t care. I think I learned about these people from an episode of Batman: The Animated Series when I was in like 8th grade, because I watched children’s cartoons until an embarrassing age, but every time I take a photo I am terrified that one of soul stealing religious people is going to attack me or something. And you thought YOU had irrational fears…

3. WTF is DNAinfo.com? Not what you think it is, I can assure you of that. It’s like a TimeOut knock off or something. Right now its number one story is that Santacon is this weekend. Thanks… Are you my Facebook minifeed?

4. Salami is the #4 thing grandma wants? Oh my god, what kind of degenerate grandmothers do the execs at this agency have?

Here’s what’s happening in my brain right now:

Chris says this isn’t really what Enron did… but whatevs.

Yeah, that’s right. Powerpoint doesn’t recognize glock as a word.

At a certain point even the darkest of Grannies has to want an age-appropriate gift… Right? 

Peace, love and get your Memaw something reasonable you weirdos, 


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Subway Surfing

Do you guys pay attention to the MTA advisory ads? Here’s a new one that I really don’t get:

Subway surfing? Really? I’ve heard of all sorts of dangerous teen fads – vodka eyeballing, robotripping, butt chugging… Planking – but I’ve never even once heard of subway surfing. How would that work? Is this something they do in one of the boroughs I’ve never been to? Queens?

After two years of living in the city, I’m beginning to doubt the MTA safety advisory board. It’s not that I think the subways aren’t safe. I’m pretty sure they injure significantly less people than the T in Boston (just google MBTA accidents and look at how many of the results are MBTA accident attorneys) AND you are less at risk of getting stabbed during your daily commute than you are on MARTA, Atlanta’s adorably terrifying attempt at public transport.

I take issue with these advisory signs, other than the one that’s like, “Hey you, drunk person, don’t check to see if the train is coming.”

Now THIS is an effective sign

I feel as though they haven’t correctly identified the key sources of danger to most subway riders. Let’s use this subway surfing campaign as an example. I can’t even imagine how this is physically possible or why anyone would attempt to do this. I’m guessing that there was some freak accident that happened once in 1996 and the MTA board promised to create yearly anti-surfing campaigns in order to not get monumentally sued by someone. Kinda like a cup of coffee that says “Drink at your own risk” on it. No shit, McDonalds.

Why else would there be what I’m guessing is at least 500 (I really have no idea but 500 seems impressive, yet reasonable) MTA posters dedicated to the mythical act of subway surfing and yet there are absolutely no posters that say “Hey, dumbass, don’t stick your fucking extremities in the train doors while they’re closing; we would prefer not to drag you across the platform and then slam you into a wall accidentally,” posters? Ok, I looked it up, there are a few about holding the doors and that making people late using the picture below. I prefer my proposed copy on the ad:

I think this would be effective.

You never hear conductors be like, “Hey, guys, you really have got to quit grabbing onto the completely ungrabbable metal surfaces of the train doors and taking a joyride down the platform. Someone might get hurt one day,” but they are like, every second of every day, yelling over the speakers, “LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, DO NOT, I REPEAT DO NOT ATTEMPT TO ENTER THE TRAIN WHEN THE DOORS ARE CLOSING,” because everyone does it all the time… Except for me because the one time I did do it my coffee flew everywhere and spilled on this girl and she looked at me with totally justifiable hate and was like, “Really?”

Ok, onto another example. This one is a bit more of a stretch, but hear me out. You know how I feel about the If You See Something, Say Something campaigns… The MTA is soooooo worried about bag bombs even though the likelihood of that is pretty small, and yet they never mention anything about seeing something and saying something if you happen across a mole person. I’m still compiling all of my conspiracy theory evidence in order to write a well-researched post about the mole people (I promise you, it is coming), but I have definitely seen where I think they are living and it’s at the end of the platform of my subway stop and because of where I get on at the station downtown I have to exit really close to what I’m certain is their lair and I would REALLY LIKE TO SAY SOMETHING.

SO YEAH. I’m doubting the MTA safety people and if I don’t see some mole people advisories real soon I may have to stop taking the subway entirely. Which is difficult considering the fact that I don’t have money for cabs and that I regularly get hit by things on my bike.

One last thing… I really love that the person in charge of Spanish translation of this ad clearly did not value the whole surfing/wiped out metaphor enough to attempt to recreate it in the translation, and instead stuck with a very straightforward, “If you ride on the outside parts of the train, you are at risk of having a fatal accident.”

Get there alive NYC,


PS – For all my research (see: googling ‘train surfing subway’ right before completing this post), I’ve only found two instances of subway surfing in New York. One is not at all as depicted by these posters but instead someone riding on top of the train and the other is this douchebag. Keep on surfin’, bro… You’re headed straight for the Darwin Awards.

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Notes from the week

The past week was full of important landmarks for me. Here’s a list of them, as well as some not-so-important but noteworthy items:

1.) Weekend wins: Some of my favorite friends came to visit New York last weekend, and we didn’t waste a second of our time on things like sobriety or culture. It was one of the best weekends I’ve had since moving here. As a result of all the drinking, I made two bodega stops over the course of the weekend and BOTH TIMES I WON. The less exciting win was the discount I received on an arm full of candy I purchased – “All of this is five dollars, but for you, I charge three.” #fatwin. The super exciting win happened around 4 AM on Friday night, when I was waiting for my spicy special, philly cheesesteak and mozzarella sticks to finish cooking. A drunk, old fat man walked into the bodega to buy beer. He looked me up and down and walked to get his six pack. He must have been struck by my beauty; I was wearing a skimpy peach minidress and clinging to an assortment of cookies and candy… Sexy, right? Anyway, he walked up to the counter and says, “This beer and everything she’s having.” The clerk looked at him like you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into buddy, and goes, “Nonono. She has many other things.” The drunk man waved his hand up as if money was immaterial, purchased my $30 worth of drunk binge food and disappeared into the the night. Now I understand the allure of a sugar daddy…

2.) Summer’s arrival: Sure, it rained all week, but last weekend I got a fucking sun tan. I can honestly tell you the last time my skin was anything but disgustingly pale was two years ago. I’ve started carrying printer paper to the Duane Reade so I can make sure I’m properly matching my skin tone to my makeup.

Of course, along with the heat comes the need for an AC, so on Tuesday night I carried my window unit down our long hallways and propped it up in my window. I love my AC so much that I named him last year.

This is Coolio-

Welcome back Coolio, I’ll sing the theme song to Kenan & Kel to you all summer

3.) I STARTED MY NEW JOB!!!!: I’m super excited about this one. After a week of not fielding angry phone calls and emails from everyone and (sometimes literally) their mom, I remember that I like working. On top of that, working for a more established company comes with big perks like A KEURIG, AN IT DEPARTMENT, A REGULAR SIZED REFRIGERATOR, FAST ELEVATORS. I even have an ID badge to get into my building. Bad. Ass.

4.) Failing at the Financial District: I’m working in an entirely different area of town and it’s really cool to be somewhere new, especially a place that’s so iconically New York. On my walk to the subway every night I stare up at the new World Trade Center, and I walk past all these beautiful historical churches and cemeteries every day. That being said, it’s a confusing area. It’s not a grid, there are tourists everywhere and I keep fucking up with the subway.

Example 1 – There are like 14 entrances to the Fulton Street station, and I found a new one that’s super close to my gym yesterday. I was feeling so cool and I was so enthralled with playing Angry Birds on the platform/train that I wasn’t paying attention to anything going on around me. About 20 minutes later I looked up and realized I was not, in fact, almost to 23rd street, but instead I was deep in Brooklyn.

Example 2 – Earlier in the week, I’d found another entrance to Fulton Street that was more convenient than my first station and I hadn’t yet remembered Angry Birds, so I was very focused on my surroundings. As soon as I swiped into the station I realized that I’d swiped into a platform with a train only going in one direction. I wasn’t sure of the direction, and rather than asking someone I decided to walk out of the station and check for myself. It turned out it was the correct direction, but when I went to reswipe my monthly MetroCard I got the stupid Just Used message that turnstiles give you to avoid people sharing MetroCards. I’m poorer than anything right now, so rather than purchasing a one ride ticket for $3, I walked the four blocks to another station.

The turnstiles are smarter than I anticipated. I got the Just Used message from that one too. After a few very frustrating minutes of waiting, I saw a Youth jump over one of the turnstiles. I looked around, waited for all the people in suits to swipe in, and then attempted to jump over the turnstile. It turns out I do not have the tricep strength, and I ended up having to crawl underneath the turnstile. I got through this way, but not without awkwardly getting stuck underneath it for what was probably five seconds but felt like a minute.

Lesson learned (I think). I will be more conscious of my surroundings and I will not try to swipe in twice.

5.) Flailing at the gym: Now that I’m in a new area, I’m also going to a different gym than I was going to before. On Tuesday night I tried a class called Abs & Ass. There’s a couple men who like to teach classes in a ‘military style’ at Crunch, but like any other aerobic instructor they are still definitely gay. Imagine listening to a techno remix of Michael Jackson’s Black or White while some super-effeminate yet totally jacked guy yells, “Left, Left, Left Right Left!” at you. That’s really all that happens.

Eric, the Abs & Ass teacher was one of these. I’m fairly new to fitness – I started working out on a regular basis about two years ago with an amazing trainer I had in Atlanta named Ali. Our training sessions involved him making me do really simple things like squats and then laughing at me. He once said to me, “When I started training you, you were so weak that I didn’t understand how you could walk.” I miss Ali. While I’ve gotten a lot better – I can run several miles, I don’t throw up every time I work out and I understand that the elliptical was something invented so fat people can feel better – I’m still clumsy as fuck.

Eric had us doing these plank exercises that involved us laying on our side and then lifting our hips. It should have been simple enough, everyone else seemed to have no problem with it. I, on the other hand, could not manage to keep myself laying on my hip. I’m not talking about the actual movement he wanted us to do (a side plank), I just couldn’t lay on my side. As Eric walked around the classroom and yelled that we were not trying hard enough, I was continually trying to roll myself to my side, falling over onto my stomach and flailing my arms in attempts to regain my balance. Pathetic, Tiffany… Pathetic.

6.) My first Katz Deli experience: Katz Deli is super famous because it was the setting for Meg Ryan’s faked orgasm scene in When Harry Met Sally. On Thursday night, I got to try a pastrami on rye sandwich from the deli for my first time. HolyFuckingShit. I don’t even like pastrami OR rye, but oh my god this sandwich was amazing. Sidenote: It does cost $18…

I stole this photo from a google search

7.) Last, but definitely not least, my street interview: About 30 minutes before my Katz experience, I was standing outside of a concert in the LES, smoking a cigarette I’d bummed from some guy who seemed like he was giving me the cigarette just so I’d leave him alone. Another guy comes and stands next to me and introduces himself. He was a Bangladeshi masseuse who was very drunk. He offered me a free massage (which I declined) and somehow, despite my tremendous arsenal of standing outside a bar talking to a stranger questions, the conversation veered very quickly into him telling me that he masturbated a lot. It took him saying this three times, because it was hard to understand his accent, so I can assure you that it wasn’t one of those drunken word-vomit situations. He definitely meant to tell me about his extensive ‘personal’ time.

He then proceeded to interview-style ask me a number of questions about my sexual history, preferences, etc., including but not limited to asking if my gay roommate sleeps with girls too, if I like to sleep with girls and how my one-night stands have gone down. I answered far too many of these questions (mainly because I still had cigarette to finish, but also) because I figured at a certain point there would be no more questions, but the Bangladeshi guy was full of them. I eventually had to run back into the concert and hope that he wasn’t secretly a Candid Camera person asking me all about my sex life as a joke.


All in all, it was a typical New York in the summer kind of week. I’m so excited for so many more of them this year.

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