Tag Archives: labor day

It’s Tuesday–time to Labor and then watch young stars with blossoming drug and alcohol problems hump.

One of my favorite things about being alive is meeting other people who are alive and finding out what it is about life, their life in particular, that inspires them to continue living it.  Sometimes it doesn’t seem as though there’s much at all that’s inspiring them to continue living  it, and that’s sad. 

Two nights ago I met a really, legitimately sad looking man.  I’d seen him on the subway on my way home from work once or twice, but I’d never talked to him.  He has this distinctive look about him–extremely curly (Kenny G curly) gray-white hair down to his shoulders, gray-white stubble on his face, and some kind of red splotch surrounding one eyebrow.  He looks interesting.  But more than anything, he looks sad.

Anyway, he struck up a conversation with me.  But he did it in a pretty awkward way–he posed a question to me, waited for my response, and then revealed that he had known the answer to the question all along.  It was along the lines of, “Hey, do you have any idea what time it is?” Then upon hearing me apologetically say I did not, he responded, “Because I do! It’s five minutes ’til noon!”  And then he delved into an in-depth history of time itself, followed by an explanation of the process of watchmaking, and finished it off with some personal anecdotes about his experiences relating to the time-space continuum. 

It was sort of like that. 

I’m not sure where I’m going with this.  I guess I’m just thinking about how it’s great when people reach out to other people.  It’s nice when strangers become acquaintances and acquaintances become friends.  Even if it’s only on Facebook.

In other news, the new “Melrose Place” is starting today.  And along with Ashlee Simpson-Wentz, they’ve got these inspired taglines!  One reads, “Tuesdays are a bitch.”  Another goes, “Tuesday’s the new hump day.”  And another still, “Ménage à Tues.” Provocative, eh? I’m pretty sure that if I watch this show I will learn things (sexual, lewd, nasty, terrible things) that I have no business learning–and I’m an adult.

Still, part of me is curious.  Also, I noticed that the Greek love interest from Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants is in the cast, so it’s pretty guaranteed that I’ll tune in.  At least once.  At which time I will learn all about bitches, humping, and threesomes involving bitches, humping, and (a desperate woman can only hope) this Adonis:

Have you seen my pants?

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Gosh, I hate it when she posts poems.

The First Thursday in September

I stop in Bryant Park and watch the men
playing ping pong at 10:30 at night on a Thursday.
They bring their own paddles and balls–
they’re serious.  Over where the grass usually is
other men are busy.  They set up a tent.
Maybe for Fashion Week.  I guess for Fashion Week.
I forget it’s Fall, unofficially, considering Labor Day.

I only stop in hopes one of the men will invite me to play,
but after I try and fail to catch a stray ball
that flies near my head and one of the men says, “Good try,”
(in a way that makes me think he found it endearing that
I’d even attempted as it was obviously futile considering
my vagina) I walk off.

In line for the public restroom the two women behind me
talk about a bartender–
“You should totally marry him.”  “Yeah,” the other one nods.
She describes the way he peers into her eyes over the bar
as she orders: “Intense.”  They nod.
“He’s dreamy.”  “Yes, dreamy. That’s
a good way to describe him.”

A door opens and a person emerges.
It’s my turn and I take a piss.