subway horror story

I stepped onto the subway this morning to a horrifying (yet not uncommon) sight. Picture this. A teenage boy and girl in an intimate embrace. Holding onto each other rather than the bar. And then they made out. Like teenagers in a dark movie theater. Except they were on the train with a myriad of commuters and an Uptown Girl. Hi.

This behavior is not ok.

It is a Monday morning. Were you aware?

I now realize why, when I was in high school, adults on the train hated my friends and me(!). At the time I thought "they" were ageist freaks! Now I know that it is the other way around: teenagers are little psychopaths trying to ruin my Monday. Technically I already knew this tried and true fact, but it seems like fresh information right now.

I will not let this ruin my day. I will move on and forget the inappropriate PDA that started my work-week. I will get a lot of work done. I will persevere. I will pledge to end the week with some PDA of my own.

Why should the teens get to have all the fun?

tell me why...

Why does coffee taste better when I pay $1.25 and get it at the street cart (from the guy who tells me I have nice eyes) than when I make it myself or buy it at a gourmet cafe?



Why does my hair have a mind of its own?



Why do I remember to call people back when I'm in the middle of something already and then forget completely when I have free time?



Why is Monday part of the work week when it should so obviously be part of the weekend?

Why does ice cream taste best straight out of the carton?

Why do I remember some dreams so vividly but forget others even before I open my eyes?



Why do certain foods get caught in my teeth?



Why is Kanye West such an arse? And why didn't Taylor Swift show him her mean left hook?



Why don't I have a cool accent?



Why doesn't my chauffeur ever arrive in time?



Why doesn't Ryan Reynolds get the hint that I'm not interested (he is a married man after all; plus there is a line... obvi)?



Why can't the summer last forever? And why can't I spend all my time at an all-inclusive resort on a tropical beach?
Soooo... who can answer these oh-so-important life questions? I know I'm getting philosophical on you and it is only Monday morning, but this is what I have on my mind today, so you will just have to deal with it. What are you wondering?

patience little one, patience

Yes, I am perfectly aware that the weekend is over.

It saddens me to no end. No end, I tell you.



The weekend was low key and lovely. And I never made it to my tropical beachfront paradise. But, sometimes I like low key. It beats hectic and stressful every single time. But it never beats the beach. Just saying.



Sometimes I wish this was a private blog because I want to write an ounce more freely about my innermost thoughts and secrets without worrying about who will read them. Because I have oh so many to share.



I am extremely fortunate to have women in my life who are there to listen to my confused nonsensical dilemmas and offer simple sage wisdom in return. What would I do without my girlfriends?



How would I survive even one week? My girls bring me such joy and help me to stay grounded. This is true both when I'm overly worried (read: on the brink of mental breakdown) and in times when I'm overly excited (read: getting my hopes up, or putting too much stock into something). And I try to do the same for my friends. I think as women we balance each other that way.



Maybe that is why I don't write poems very often and neglect my journal. Instead I work things out by talking things thru with my therapist friends. Why is it that I can give *amazing* advice to friends (ok, usually I can just tell them what NOT to do), but then need the same advice given back to me? We can rely on each other, uh huh. From one corner to another, uh huh. [name that tune]

I think what this advice usually comes down to is patience. A virtue that virtually escapes me. .. What is that saying? Patience is a virtue. A virtue is a grace. And grace is a girl that slaps you in the face. Something to that effect. Yeah, so back to the point of this rambling hot mess... Usually the advice we give one another is to be patient, not to rush into or out of any situation. To weigh pros and cons. To take time. Time heals and time reveals the good the bad and the fugly. Why is it so hard to remember this one little bitty life lesson? It has been the answer to almost all questions I've had. Once I give things time or just take time to work stuff out in my head, and remember that there is no need to rush, I can take a breath, take a step back, take a walk, and relax to the max. I let the question at hand lie, unanswered, and just live a little more. Then the answer will come. And it always does. Oh, and the issues swirling about in my brain can come down a notch and I can then see them for what they are... and they are usually not as urgent and pressing as they seemed before the girltalk commenced.

Anywho. I've got 2 songs whirling around in my head. One by Regina Spektor and one by Taylor Swift. Talk about poets. Those ladies rock my world. They put my feelings into words and those words into music. Haven't I told you to check out imeem.com? Do it to it. It will make your life. But as with all good things, patience will come in handy with figuring out imeem just like with figuring out life, love, work, play, and song lyrics.

Hope your Monday is happy great fantastic bearable! Just be patient bc the weekend is only a few long short days away...

DO NOT READ ME

There will be no swoon here today. And no incredible noteworthy post. But, there there, don't cry little one. I have good news to share. Because sharing is caring. Secrets don't make friends, and friends don't make secrets (a certain someone recites that to me often and I have yet to figure out what she means... but I digress).

There are important things happening in Blogland today. Please make sure you are seated with your seat belt fastened and your tray table in the upright position.

By the power of Graystone, may I present JUNE 'THE SWOON' CLEAVER!!!!!!

Yeah, click the link. She's back on the scene, and since I haven't posted any swoony pics this past week, I guess June realized it was time to get back to work. It's a hard job, more of a calling really, but someone has to do it.

Oh and btw, I lied.

I'm giving in and posting one little swoony pic to prepare you for the real swoon.

You're welcome.

taxi love

Everyone has been in a taxi-cab before, right? I mean, have you had at least 1 taxi ride in NYC? And how did you feel?

I happen to ride in a lot of taxis. Too many if you ask my financial advisor Wealth Manager aka Liza. But the thing is this: I <3 taxis.

As I've mentioned in the past, the city is a very hectic place and can be crazy to navigate using public transportation. Of course it all depends. Do you live near a subway? Do you work near that same subway line? Ok well, that's easy. And I hate you. But otherwise... you end up schlepping all about, waiting for multiple trains, transferring, taking the bus, etc etc etc. And if you have to cross-town -- well that is too painful to talk about. [excuse me while I wipe a tear from my eye after re-living some painful cross-town memories]

So here's the dealio yo. I am an Uptown Girl. Why do I have to take public transportation?

Why do I have to stand on the street waiting for a bus so I can cram myself between 83 other commuters and their children, purses, backpacks, rolly-things, and various bags, boxes, skateboards, bicycles, and canes?? And then after arriving at said bus-stop, I still have multiple blocks to trek along with zillions of other commuters before I get to my destination... [wiping sweat from brow]

Another option is the train. I won't go into it in detail, but take my bus description, multiply by the square root of pi and divide by 17. Then add 2-3 flights of stairs, 3 buckets of sweat (my own sweat co-mingled with the sweat of 15 strangers), the nauseating scent of urine/body odor/"only God knows what rank smell that is", and at least 1 stolen grope that is quite surprising although it should be expected. On either bus or subway you have the sounds of other ppl's iPods that are turned up way too high, so you find yourself concerned for said ppl's impending loss of hearing, while on the other hand fuming with frustration bc they aren't so considerate.

Anyways... I won't give you the exciting-slash-uber-disturbing stories I've collected from my time spent on public transportation (which compared to many ppl isn't so much time bc I avoid it so avidly).

The alternative to mass transportation is individual transportation: the infamous yellow taxi. Fleets of taxis whiz by on the busy streets. They call to me. Sparkling in the sunlight. Glittering in the streetlights. The light is on! The taxi is available! It invites me to lift my arm to signal my desire. What choice do I have?! It is love at first sight. The taxi stops. I hop in. I politely tell the driver where I need to go, how I want to go, and that I'm in a rush. And then I feel a rush. I notice my surroundings. Leather seats and a taxi-tv with Sam Champion commercials. No people sweating up on me, no icky smells, no stairs, no stares, nothing to disturb my inner-peace. And I smile. I feel happy. All is right in the world. Bliss... pure unadulterated bliss. I fall in love. I fall hard.

**This is the way I envision my taxi-ride. I may or may not be giving you a realistic picture of the experience as taxi passenger.**

Monday Swoon

Yes, today is Monday. And in true "June The Swoon Cleaver's Biggest Fan" style, I decided to post a swoonworthy pic for you on this fine horrible excuse for a day-of-the-week.

No, today has not been a bad Monday or anything. And, you know how I hate it when you jump to conclusions like that. Simmer down before I call Bon Qui Qui.

Monday is just one of those days. My frenemy. And Mondays are always less Mondayish with a swoon. Everybody knows that. Common knowledge. Common sense.

I've been trying to come up with a swoonworthy gentleman to post. I thought about posting another shot of Josh Duhamel (my baby daddy)(jk jk) or Ryan Reynolds. I also considered choosing from my long list of celebrities who stalk me and socialite gentlemen callers. But, again, we've seen their faces on these swoons time and time again. You know who you are [Sam Champion].

All I can really swoon over at this moment is a pizza pie. When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's AMORE. Obvi.
Without further ado.... may I present... for the first time on The Uptown Girl Blogizzle.....

AMORE!!!!!

Go ahead, swoon...

Wanna-Be Swoon

June is back. Not in full Cleaver force, but she is alive and well. And that is all we can really ask for isn't it?



Well, technically I want to ask for the Monday Swoon to return to her blog.

But, alas, the swoon is still away on vacay.

June is obvi very busy with her real life and is therefore neglecting her internet virtual life. And that is understandable. Since I am feening for the Swoon tho, I will practice my understudy skills in June's absence.


My inspiration for this particular post is Amber. A new blog find. Always exciting for me to discover a new blog to add to my repertoire- this whole blogosphere is like a candy shop and I am like a kid who goes into that candy shop and eats the candy as I go. Without having to pay for it. And without gaining any weight. Yumm-i-licious.


Without further delay, may I present:



George Eads (you know, CSI guy) Hi George. What nice teeth you have. The better to... what?


Love the suit Georgie. You know how I adore suits and ties and your eyes.
You're always wishing me peace and love. Aww thanks, I peace and love you too.


Here he is acting. And looking so intense as he leans on that forensics desk. George you know you can always lean on me when you're not strong. I'll be your friend. I'll help you carry on. For, it won't be long, til I'm gonna need somebody to lean on.
And you look pretty strong, so I'll lean on you soon, thanks.


Georgie Porgie in all of his surfer-boy-swagger. All that comes to mind is...
What nice teeth you have.

Oh my. George said that he has to wear sunglasses when he reads my blog so his eyes don't get burned by the intense hotness. Obvi. This blog is so fiercely hot that it is almost on fire.

Happy Monday!

My Greatest Frenemy

Frenemy as defined by the Urban Dictionary: A portmanteau of friend and enemy; an enemy who acts like a friend. Sometimes spelled frienemy.

I don't know the definition of portmanteau because I was born in the 20th century and not the 18th, but it seems like a good definition to me and the topic is not so vital that I want to google it. I've heard of frenemies in celebrity gossip, and experienced them in high school.

We all know of highly publicized frenemies:

Paris Hilton&Nicole Ritchie... Kathy Griffin&The Olson Twins... Oprah&Food... USA&France... Women&Stilettos... Ramona&Jill Zarin...

One very important fact you should know about my life is that, like all important people, I have a frenemy.

Mondays.

Mondays are my friend. I listen to out-of-this-world playlists on Monday. I like seeing my coworkers and sharing weekend stories. I get to see June Cleaver's Famous Monday Swoon -see links to blogs i heart. I bring dark chocolate to work on Monday (ok that is everyday). I can remember all my lovely weekend memories. Ok enough of this crap. the weekend is gone! over! so that brings me to my next point.

Mondays are my enemy. I wake up in a fog that feels like a coma. I have to go to work. I can't wear jeans, scrubs, or work-out pants. I have to do work. I have to focus. I have to wake up at an un-godly hour. I have to do work and I know that this will go on for 5 or 6 straight days. Again. Possibly for the rest of my life unless I win the lotto. Even Bethany works a real job like all the little ppl, so at least I'm not alone.

Honestly, I'm still in that Monday fog right now and I've been up for hours. Maybe that is why this post is so lamespice. I'm stealing the word lamespice from Lauren. Wow, stealing comes so easily on Mondays. No regrets. Ok another point for Monday is that when things go wrong (as they are bound to do on Monday) or if you have a confused coma on your face when your boss asks you a serious Q, you can just say "Oh sorry, its Monday and my brain isn't quite working. Could we go over this tomorrow? Lovely. Cheerio!".

Monday=Frenemy

I love to hate Monday and I hate to love it. did you get that? And I really think Monday feels the same way about me. My imeem playlist is titled "Must Love Mondays". But I'd rather listen at home. All this comparing and contrasting, seeing Monday as either/or, black and white when the other 6 days have color, it is making me hungry. Wow I need a black and white cookie. Want not need. I want a black and white cookie.
Ok so my frenemy and I get by. We haven't had any major feuds of late. I no longer dread Sundays (in preparation for Monday). But serio, how do you get thru your Monday? Do you have a mantra for me? A visual? Is June Cleaver the only person who cares about improving my relationship with Monday? Probably yes. And I am forever grateful. And swoony. And scandalized.

ps- Another frenemy: dairy. But I won't get into that on a Monday. tmi. tmi.