Category Archives: Friendly Advice

Not even if you paid me

Well maybe if you paid me in Dom Perignon…Nah, not even then.

I’m not going to enable the attention-getting behavior of that rat’s-ass crazy chick who posed on the cover of Time with her three year old hanging off her left breast by reprinting the photo. I’m sure by now the image is forever seared on your consciousness, just as it is mine. I’m also certain I won’t be the first person to point out that breastfeeding a child who can pull up his own pants, conjugate verbs in the past tense, and program the TiVo has more in common with molestation than meal time, but if your primary goal for your kid is to end up on top of the library tower in 15 years with a hunting rifle in his hand and a clothespin on his penis, nursing him until he goes to middle school strikes me as a pretty effective way to start.

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You’re from away, aren’t ya?

Your guide to vacationing in Maine this summer

Eat in or take out!

It was recently brought to my attention that in my last post, Welcome to New York! Now get out of my way, I may have come across as a bit, how shall I say, strident. Some might even say elitist or xenophobic. I don’t know, I’ll leave the choice of adjective to you. In any case, in the interest of fair play (and as part of my ongoing commitment to tourist safety), I’m taking the quite possibly unprecedented step of rebutting myself on this one with some advice for New Yorkers who plan to visit the great state of Maine this summer. Why? Well, for one thing Maine has fairly “relaxed” gun laws, and those objects you see bisecting the rear windows of pickup trucks are not golf-club racks.

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Welcome to New York!

Now get out of my way.

Tourists II by Duane Hanson.
It’s ART, folks.

Like virtually every member of my extended family, many of you, I’m sure, maintain a firm “no New York” policy when it comes to vacation travel; however, for the intrepid souls who are considering venturing forth to the metropolis now that the tourist season is officially upon us, I have some advice. First-timers should pay particular attention. This is insider stuff you won’t find in any guide book, no matter what the cover claims.

Disclaimer/qualifications: Please note, I am not a native New Yorker, but a transplant. Most of the people who live here are. I have, however, resided in the city continuously since 1989 and in that time have called both Manhattan and Brooklyn home. Over the years, I have cultivated more than a passing acquaintance with the city’s museums, restaurants, bars, emergency rooms and (better) trial attorneys, so when I tell you this is inside stuff, you can believe it.

First let me say, welcome tourists. You may think New Yorkers are brusque, standoffish, even rude, and you may be right, but please know we do appreciate your visits, and more importantly the dollars, euros, pounds and yuan you spend, give away and are unlawfully relieved of from the moment you arrive until the second you leave. You are our piggy banks, our income stream, our cash cows, and we know it. So when we jostle you on the street, shove you into a subway car, or scream at you to get the fuck out of the way at the top of the escalator at Saks, think of it not as rudeness, but as our way of saying “howdy friend!” We are like the nippy border collies whose sole aim is to ensure the safety of the herd. If on occasion we have to take a chunk out of your ankles, rest assured it’s for your own protection and well being.

Imagine the sheep with little fanny packs and you get the idea.
Via ourworldofdogs.com.

Since we are on the subject of herding, I’d like to offer a few tips for safely navigating around the city while you are here. If I may.

GET THE LEAD OUT. PLEASE.
On the sidewalks, especially on weekdays, you must get out of first gear. This is particularly important if you are strolling en masse as a family or friendly group of fifteen. Like an interstate highway, the streets of New York have a minimum speed at which it is safe to travel. Unless you’re blind, wheelchair-bound or towing an oxygen tank, this applies to you. As a group, New Yorkers are hopelessly late, massively over-scheduled and chronically underfed, all of which makes us rather cranky and subject to fits of pique, so you’d be well advised to keep it moving. Dawdling, shambling, shuffling and strolling will get you injured. It’s not that difficult. Think of it as a matter of pride — do you really want to eat the dust of a scrawny little old lady in three inch heels as you shamble along in your Sauconys? Alright then.

STAY OFF THE SUBWAY UNLESS YOU KNOW HOW TO USE IT
Though safe for travel at most hours of the day or night, the subway is the native’s domain. We rely on it to get to work or cross-town meetings on time when traffic is hopelessly snarled (which is every day), if it’s raining and there are no cabs, or when we’re low on funds. As such, we are seldom at our best below ground. So if you take nothing else away from our little chat, please remember this: Step into the subway car and continue to the interior. Do NOT step in, stop and gaze in wonderment at the vast expanses of space, the lounging street people or the guy wearing the tinfoil hat, hip waders and a thong. There is nothing more infuriating than having the subway doors close in front of us because some rube is pondering whether to turn left or right, or worse, is completely oblivious to the six people trying to force their way past him. We will shove, curse and elbow you if need be, and by the way, we know the difference between tourists and natives. Like Joe Pesci in the deep south, most of you do not blend.

.

Ride with pride. Via destination-store.com.

TRAVEL SAFELY
On one of these. Sure they’re ridiculous, but they’ll get you anywhere you want to go and keep you securely above both the ground and the fray. We love them for just that reason and would thank you for riding on them if we had time to chat and you weren’t careening down Broadway ten feet above our heads.

CLUSTER IN YOUR SPECIAL AREAS
It’s for your own good. There are certain corners of New York City where people who live here never go: the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State building and Times Square are the most notable. If you visit any of these wonderful sites, you are unlikely to be shoved by angry office workers, berated by frustrated shoppers or otherwise hassled by the natives, because we aren’t there. Believe me, my neighbors and I will walk ten blocks out of our way to avoid Times Square, not because we don’t like you, but because trying to move along 42nd Street is akin to swimming through cold molasses, and as mentioned, we are generally in a hurry. And cranky. The only New Yorkers you’ll see in these locations want to sell you something, and as such have a vested interest in being accommodating and pleasant. As Fran Lebowitz observed of Times Square, “We built it for you.” Too true.

Party on. It’s all yours.
Via Trip Advisor.

There is one place it’s entirely safe to visit, where you will see New Yorkers in their natural habitat and need not worry about your pace or placement: Central Park. It’s the only area of the city with enough space to accommodate all of us and all of you, where we tend to slow down and relax, to stop and smell the roses as it were. So take a carriage ride, rent a boat or photograph yourselves at the Angel Fountain to your hearts’ content. But please, keep it moving on the paths.

Thank God that’s over

Dateline New York

Widely available. More ridiculous than ever.

Trust me, folks, the ironic old man hat is over, finit, passé. Stick a fork in it, it’s done. If you persist in wearing one, rest assured you will most certainly and immediately join the ranks of the tragic and the lame. After all, the only thing worse than a hipster is a hipster wannabe. I say this not to injure, but to enlighten.

Courtesy Splash News

Not convinced? Think that raffish topper from Target is just what you need to catapault your bad self to nerd elite status while walking the mall or sipping your latte? Consider this then. Justin Beiber wears one.

So please, now that spring is officially here, and you can put away that ridiculous Rocket J. Squirrel and its pal the Commissar, give the sighted public a break and try going hatless for the season. The vitamin D will do you good.

And by the way, since we’re on the subject of summer fashion — Ladies, wearing dirty, ratty old boots with a summer dress in stinking hot weather is gross and nasty. It telegraphs one thing and one thing only: “Mah feet smell.”  This never looked good, but now it looks bad AND out of date. And don’t even consider UGGS unless you’re under twelve.

For the love of God, just get some flip flops. Please?

No retreat. No surrender.

C’mon ladies, let’s send the surrender T-shirt to sartorial oblivion.

Spring approaches and my sisters and I are contemplating a change of habit, specifically those of us in cooler climes are about to undertake the semi-annual, seismic shift from wool to cotton, from boots to sandals and, sadly, from cake to cucumbers — all in the name of spring fashion. As our toes yearn for liberation and our limbs again seek the sun, I am once more reminded of the question that springs to mind every year along about this time.

Ladies, why oh why do you continue to buy these?

It doesn’t even look good in the glamour shot. Courtesy of those bastards at Land’s End.

There’s really only one reason companies keep making these things you know: women keep buying them. Open a closet or dresser, and I’ll bet if you see one, there are ten more lurking nearby in a range of glorious colors and splatter patterns, depending on where the coffee/red wine/baby spew tends to land first (chest, mid-section, lap). I can’t even bear to think about the striped ones.

If you own one or more of these, I’m guessing that once the mercury starts to rise you wear them a lot. After all they’re marketed as “wardrobe staples,” right? They go gardening and shopping, get thrown in the suitcase for summer vacation, and even appear regularly at the office and social gatherings. Tell me I’m wrong. Please?

Well, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get this off my chest, so you’d best buckle up.

Even if you look better than the perky model, I guarantee that the surrender t-shirt does absolutely nothing for you. It is just not possible. See photo above.

Which brings me to the name. Why surrender T-shirts you ask? Because when you wear them, this is the message you send the world: I give up. I feel unattractive and will never look good again. All I care about is taking care of my kids/fifteen cats/elderly and incontinent parents. I have no life. I surrender. If you’re reading this blog, I am willing to wager a significant sum that that’s not who you are.

Before you argue with me, hear me out. I’ve heard the justifications for these horror shows a hundred times. “Ooh but they’re so comfortable and cool. They go with everything. They hide my trouble spots. Cotton breathes, you know.”

Bullshit. These things are shapeless, frumpy and unflattering and they make anyone who wears them look like Charlie Brown in drag. Trust me, other than slapping an extra ten pounds and another 15 years on you, they do nothing for you, or anyone.

Still not convinced? Time for some tough love.

Not a good look, ladies. Surely you see that.

Still resisting? In that case you leave me no choice but the nuclear option, God forgive me.

TUCKED IN! you know who you are. Courtesy momgrind.com.

Just so you know, this is how a cotton T-shirt should fit:

Courtesy agirlsworld.com and a seriously badass brassiere.

And yes, you have to look like Angie if you’re going to rock the body armor and firearms as accessories.

C’mon ladies, let’s put the surrender t-shirt manufacturers out of business and this wretched item out of its misery once and for all. Are you with me? OK, go to your dressers and pull out every one of those horror shows and destroy them immediately. Either cut them into dust rags or set them on fire so that you’re not tempted to resurrect them in a moment of weakness. Do not save them for gardening or house painting. And for the love of God, don’t give them to charity. Poor people have enough problems.