Laundry Day, Yet Again

My laundromat might just be the worst. I've had problems there before. Most people in the city have a place in their building where they can wash clothes. My laundromat is less than half a block away, but from time to time, I worry about leaving my clothes there. Sometime I'll run up and do chores while waiting for my clothes to wash and dry, but not on days like today.

Since it was raining this morning, I should have known that I may encounter some difficulty at the laundromat. The rain brings in the crazies. At first everything seemed fine, no one else was there when I loaded my laundry to wash, and my morning was cruising right along. A half-an-hour later and something was amiss when I went to switch the clothes from wash to dry.

There was a raggedy looking couple sitting by the window as I entered...doing drugs...smoking crack? Don't look, I told myself. If I don't see it, it's not really happening! Then there's another dude, in the back corner...touching himself, ekkk!

I load the clothes as far away from him as possible. I decide I should probably run upstairs and get my bags and wait for my clothes to dry. I have to guard my clothes today, no one else is in here but this group of awesome.

I come back with supplies, a bottle of water, a newspaper, and the bags I'll need to gather my clothes when it's all over. I pretend to read my newspaper, because after all, how much can I really concentrate on reading when there's a dude whacking off in the corner. He staggers over to where I'm sitting...his pants are hanging off his butt and his boxers are WIIIIIDE open. I'm really happy that mister happy wasn't present to say hello. I know I've had a good day when I haven't seen dick accidentally. He stammers at me in a language that sounds something like Spanish. I pretend I didn't hear him and that my newspaper is all encompassing. At this point, I'm wishing, again, that this laundromat had a regular attendant. He proceeds to pluck at his tiny guitar...not his penis this time, he really had a tiny guitar with him. The noises coming from it remind me of a horror movie soundtrack, which is completely appropriate, considering I'm in a real life one at the moment!

A few minutes later my building's manager walks into the scene. She shoos everyone off with a call to the police. No more naked nightmare for me, until next time, that is!

Monday Morning Trek

I keep getting mail from the New York Times trying to get me to subscribe to their newspaper, again. A few years ago I did subscribe, but there were problems. I wasn’t getting the paper as my bill suggested.

A few weeks into the missing New York Times caper, my sister came to visit. I set her a mission: find out, at all costs, what was happening with my supposed delivery. She gets up super early and usually leaves the house to get her morning cup of coffee, on account I don’t have a coffee maker, so, she was the perfect person for the job. One morning, soon after I had set the challenge, my paper was waiting for me when I awoke. She did it! There it was, just sitting on the coffee table! She explains that when she went outside she found the paper propped up against the front door to the building, on the sidewalk. Just leaning on the front gate…What??? The door to the building is a gate, but it’s not impenetrable. There are lots of little spots where a paper could have been slipped through and left, at least where only people in my building would have access to it, not everyone in the world walking by…oh, there’s a free New York Times, oh, thank you very much, don’t mind if I do! The delivery person for the New York Times chooses to leave it on the sidewalk. I’m guessing this is not a person that would be subscribing to The Times. I canceled my subscription right then and there.

It’s difficult to find a place that sells the New York Times in my neighborhood, one of the cruddiest, and probably undereducated neighborhoods in the city. Is this an accident, or a metaphor for something larger at work here?! The New York Times has established itself as the newspaper for eggheads and smarty pants. The elite read The Times. If you want to establish yourself as a modern enlightened thinker, your reading material MUST include the New York Times. Having said that, the reason I get the Monday New York Times, and on occasion, the Tuesday, is for the crossword puzzle. I’m not smart enough to complete any of the others later in the week! And, I should be ashamed to admit this, but, frequently, I never look at anything else in the paper. I know what you’re thinking, then, I should just buy a book that solely has the crossword puzzles, but I tell you, I’ve been there, done that, and it’s just not the same. So, I get dressed, and do the Monday morning trek, and gladly pay the $2.20 for my paper, and the feeling that I am smart. Today is the day that I will be able to finish the crossword…walking down the street, and back to my neighborhood, with a New York Times clutched under my arm.

Pork and Pickles

Off the Grid at Civic Center/UN Plaza...

People come to the UN Plaza to sell goods, on Wednesdays and Sundays they have a farmer's market. People come to protest, or to celebrate when inadequate leader's fall, or when the Giants win the World Series. But today, Friday the 13th, it's all about the food, and people eating said food. I like food, you like food, hey...we all like food!

But don't eat this...



Boring bland burger, when this is half a block from your mouth...



Off the Grid offers up some yummy street food at decent prices. What's not to like, fast food better tasting than you've ever known. They set up shop all kinds of places in the city. On Friday's they have a handful of trucks near Civic Center. To find out where they'll be, especially if you have a favorite, follow them on facebook or twitter. Different food, different places!





I do, I dooooooo, need a sandwich...



It was a toss up between the Lamb Meatball or the Cuban. I decided on the Cuban, juicy pulled pork with a jalapeno relish, amazing! Just what I wanted.



And this smiling cutie took my order. Don't forget to tip!



It's worth the wait, and luckily they don't make you wait very long. Don't let those working stiffs get all the delicious food. Convince a friend that this is what they want to do with their afternoon, wait in different lines, and surprise each other with a smorgasbord, after all, sharing is caring!


My friend Chelsea enjoying the homemade pickle from Ebbett's.

Bum Markets

Low on cash? The economy got you down? It’s one stop shopping at Bum Markets! Electronics, records, clothes, ladies purses and shoes, household goods like shampoo and conditioner, and don’t forget those essential pantry items all at bargain basement prices. With no overhead you only pay for what you get. Some may say “Awesome!” I’ve heard others exclaim, “Hell yeah, that’s cute!” This is what I heard while walking home at three in the morning, passing one of these make-shift markets, this guy, crazy excited about bar stools.

I can’t in good faith buy from bum markets. I always think that they probably stole the stuff from someone, and I don’t want to encourage that kind of behavior. I don’t buy anything, but I take a look out of the corner of my eye to see what they’ve got. I HAVE to look. When I was little I threw myself about, wined and complained when my mom made me go to Goodwill. I was embarrassed. I was afraid someone with more money than my family would see me in there. I was mortified. As I grew up my attitude changed. I now feel embarrassed about the way I behaved for so many reasons. Though, when I peek at bum markets I feel like a little kid in front of Goodwill, like someone’s going to see me look.

One of my favorite aspects of bum markets is how they are set up. Each bum has her or his own flare for the setup. Sometimes they lay everything out on a blanket. Sometimes they prop them against the side of a wall. It’s about presentation, the sale, trying to entice the customer by making it eye-appealing, by making you want to look. Arranging and rearranging.

Usually it’s….used clothes (probably has bed bugs on it), shoes (fungus), food items, like a bent up can of peas (bacteria), used shampoo or conditioner (germs, for sure), electronics (doesn‘t work), anything PBU (previously been used) really, is no good. All of these items have definitely been used before, whether they’ve been picked from the trash, or stolen, or the entrepreneurs own things that they’re selling to make a quick buck. Sometimes, sometimes, it’s something good, a real gem, could be a cute purse, or a Michael Jackson record, maybe even a cookbook. But NO, look away…I tell myself, you-will-not-purchase, should-not-let-them-see-your-face-they-will-remember-yoooou. Look A-way!