WHY I AM OBTAINING A CANADIAN PASSPORT

http://gprime.net/video.php/presidentialspeechalist

S

DUANE RUDE

When I moved into my apartment, one of the things that excited me most was the 24 hour pharmacy directly across the street. I had visions of dashing out in the middle of the night to purchase toilet paper and sudafed. I would be in my pajama pants and rain boots and my eyes would be sleepy and I would walk in and be greeted by pleasant cashiers who would laugh at my outfit. Um..... I don't think so. The people who work at this drugstore are the rudest most obnoxious people I have ever met. I mean both the pharmacy people and the cashiers in the front. I have yet to go in there and be treated nicely and not be given sneers and rolled eyes. On one occasion I have witnessed the pharmacists scold a very old woman with a walker for cutting the line when in fact she was next.
My health insurance is not the best- such is the life of a starving artist. It would not cover a prescription that my doctor called in and when I called the insurance company they said they will only cover the generic brand. Well, wouldn't you know it THERE IS NO GENERIC BRAND!! Since I really needed these pills I decided to pay out of pocket. When I was at the pharmacy register she pointed to the number 50 on the bill and asked me if I was sure I wanted to pay this. I said yes and she rung me up and the total was $120. I said, um.. excuse me I didn't say I was paying for everyone's medicine. She said well that's how much these 3 pills cost. I said you told me $50. The attitude was seeping from every pore of her body and she said well that's why I showed it to you. I said well you showed me the wrong number. She denied this and voided out the sale with steam coming out of her ears and her eyes rolling so far back in her head you would think she just shot herself full of heroine. The best was when I told her I didn't want the pills. I thought she was going to reach over the counter and bitch slap me.
Now, this is just one of many many many bad attitude encounters I have had. This morning I stopped in on my way to work. I was purchasing a card and put it down on the counter and the lady leaning against the wall playing with her hair said- um... ma'am I am over here. Plenty of attitude for 8:30 in the morning. I am so annoyed with this place that I threw the card across the counter and then had to endure attitudinal staring for the entire transaction.
The sign in the window should be "Open 24 Hours- but our employees act as if they have been up for 48." Since the 3 pill incident I now have all my prescriptions called into my parents' pharmacy. It may be a 2 week delay to get an antibiotic for a throat infection but at least it is a pleasant experience.

S

DISCO INFERNO

In celebration of my 25th Birthday a few friends accompanied me to Bollywood Disco at the Canal Room. I love Bollywood and had the rare opportunity to PA on the set of one that included Mr. Shah Rukh Khan. So I have become obsessed with all things Indian.
It is a little known fact amongst my friends that I like to dance and shake my groove thang as often as possible. So I shook it and was the whitest white girl in the room. Man- I wish I was Indian. So I discoed- without my disco nap- for a few hours. I grooved this way and then that way and shook my trunk a little. And ogled hot Indian boys for the rest of the night. Then I hightailed it home because unfortunately I had to be at work today. I exited the subway and began my short walk to work, picking up an AM New York along the way. Then in front of the prestigious university near my office- hint, it has the worst sports teams in all the IVY Leagues-I was approached by an Indian man. In my head the following conversation took place.
Indian man: Hi, aren't you the girl who had her birthday last night at Bollywood Disco?
Me: Why, yes I am.
Indian man: Wow, you are a great dancer. My friends and I were watching you all night.
Me: Oh, stop!
Indian man: No really. Would you like to marry me and move to my family's plantation in Bengal and of course I will convert. But don't worry we will have a traditional Indian wedding with marigolds and henna.
Me: When does the next flight leave?

This was the actual conversation.
Indian Man: Excuse me, can I ask you a question?
Me: Yes.
Indian Man: How come you took an AM New York from the newstand instead of the Metro from the guy calling Metro, Metro News?
Me: I don't know. It's really all the same to me. I guess it's just because I started reading AM New York before I knew about Metro. Why do you ask?
Indian Man: Oh, I am a PhD student here and we are studying the powers of persuasion.
Me: Oh, thanks for dashing all my hopes and dreams.

This is me at my Indian wedding.

S

Chumus and Challah

Most people who know me know that I am attracted to Mediterranean men. This is not an exclusive thing - but in a who would I date line up I would always pick the dark swarthy men. A is quite aware of this fact and claims that I made this abundantly clear at a wedding when she tried to get me to talk to the pastiest guy in the room. If he were made by Benjamin Moore, he would be winter white. I recall such a conversation but not as heated as my poetic licensed friend does. Anyway, I had some company over the weekend and one of my guests is a friend of A. A ran into said guest on the subway during the week and mentioned to her that I ONLY date smarmy looking men. Upon hearing this I insisted that A rectify this exchange of misinformation. The following is an e-mail that A sent me with a suggested conversation that we have in the company of our guests.

A: This is great Chumus....speaking of Chumus and Mediterranean
food--S...is it true you still have an exclusive sexual attraction
for Mediterraneans and refuse to date their whiter, ashkenazi
brethren?

S: You know A, I'm glad your brought that up. I've wanted to
dispel this rumor for those of you who wish to set me up (cough,
cough, unnamed guest). I know longer have the strict requirement that the man
must be of Mediterranean descent. In fact, if the guy is Jewish and
wants to date me then I will be there with bells on. Pass the
Challah!

Isn't he dreamy?

S

SQUARE OR ROUND?

Nail salons are strange places, I tell ya. They have their own language and MO. It is nuts. How is it possible that no matter what nail place you go to, the same exact things always happen?

First you walk in and are greeted with a BIG hello. And I mean BIG. I'm talking a 'welcome home from war, I haven't seen you in a year' type of hello. I don't even know these people! Why are they so happy to see me? It would make sense if they were just happy in general but they seem to just bark at each other, so no that can't be it. Are they being fake? Maybe...But I guess wanting my nails to be colored pink is kind of fake too so maybe they are on to something.

Well before you can even return the hello, they are already screaming at you 'Pick Color!!!' Although it sounds like 'Pi Kullah!!!' So you pick a color. Then you might ask 'How long is the wait?' Answer '5, 10 mina'. Always. Even if there are 17 people ahead of me, always 5 or 10 minutes?? How could this be??

Once you finally sit down, the nail artist looks at your nails with disgust and asks 'Squa O roun?' (Square or Round?) To which I find myself replying 'Squa' as if I speak English with a Korean accent!! Crazy!! What is wrong with me? Does she realize what I just did? Is that what the dirty look is for? Help......

The next question you are asked is 'ca cuicule, pooo baaah?' (cut cuticles or push them back?) Answer 'pooo back'. Damn I did it again. But seriously, why would I want you cutting my cuticles so you can make them bleed with that nasty tweezer you are using? The one that has been used on thousands of others? And what is the deal with those sanitized boxes with the UV rays inside? Does that really clean anything....I'm so confused....What ever happended to rubbing alcohol? Do they really think WE think that cleans things?? I mean, if we both know it does nothing, what is the point? The charade is up people!

Then they look at you in the eye and say 'pay now' (this they have no problem pronouncing). So you take out your money and give them a tip, which is crazy because they haven't even polished your nails yet so how can you really tip them? What other profession gets tipped in the MIDDLE of the job? After this transaction is over, I always want to run to the sink and wash my hands and have her wash her hands cause we just both touched money and what could be more dirty than that? But of course that never happens and I vow to disinfect my hands/nails when I get home, thereby defeating the purpose of the manicure.

We are finally done and I am taken to the drying section. Now this is the best part because since the nails are wet, I can't touch anything, so this poor woman is now carrying around my coat and bag like she is my slave or something.....I feel bad but I kind of like it and really what could I do?? I don't want to anger her and ruin my nails...So I'm sitting there at the drying station but I refuse to put my hands in the dryer because it is so gross, so many other people's dirty hands have been there, and I doubt they ever clean that thing, because how could they fit it in the UV-Ray sanitizer bin? So I am sitting there with my hands in my lap and getting strange looks all around.

Some salons have small wrapped candies next to the dryers which is so evil because my nails are WET, how will I unwrap those? I consider asking one of nail ladies for help but I don't think feeding me is in their contract, so I sit and stare at the little candies in the dish. But I really want one so I take one and now I chipped a nail, what is wrong with me, I just spent half an hour getting this done and I blew it on a candy?? Sigh. I'm feeling bad but then I look up and see this Korean man standing there, he is counting the money in the register and yelling at the head Nail Lady. Is that her husband? Is he the Pimp Daddy and she is like the Den Mother? It is so bizarre and scary...

Well its time for me to go, I put on my coat, pick up my bag, chip another nail, and walk home with my hands out to the side as not to dent my other nails. As I'm leaving, about 40 people shout 'GOODBYE!!!!' As if I am going off to war again! They are so freakin' loud with their goodbye they scare the crap out of me! I gotta get out of there, the Pimp Daddy is giving me a dirty look as he looks up from his money counting. He's also pissed at the Den Mother for losing concentration by saying goodbye to me, damn.

Wasn't this supposed to be relaxing because I almost had a nervous breakdown in there! In any event....I will definitely see you soon my Korean ladies--save a spot for me at your little tables!!

A

Welcome to the BLOG Baby!!

This is what I looked like when I filed in the 80's.

WELCOME TO OUR BLOG!!!!
We finally stopped talking about it and made it. Hopefully, it will provide you with some humor to brighten your day.

The worse than watching paint dry boredom of my job allows me to e-mail everyone I know in the free world many many times throughout the day. Through these e-mail exchanges I have written some very funny ramblings which have brought upon me many dirty looks from my bosses who think I should be busy- but I think that they have forgotten the way that "work" works. Unless you assign me something to do I will not have anything to do. It takes me about 5 nanoseconds to file the big hunk of files you gave me at 9:00 am. Therefore by 10:00 am I am really ready to do something else. Oh, and I don't need an entire afternoon to think about how I am going to rearrange the files. That takes about 10 seconds. So I am really running out of ways to look busy. Suggestions are welcome!

S