Here is an interesting concept… A business actually putting their charitable donations where their mouth is

http://mbstories.quora.com/This-should-totally-be-a-thing-everywhere

A coffeshop that allows their constumers to pay in advance for meals/drinks for the less fortunate to come in at anytime and consume. This is a more actionable way to actually DO what you say your brand is doing when it comes to the greater good. The trend of consumers investing in a “charitable” brand for the gratification of knowing they are making a contribution has been gaining momentum,  however a lot of the time no one is really aware of where this “ghost money” goes. Most don’t even know how much of it, when, to who, and how! We just belie that it’s being put to good use and trust that the brand is keeping their promise, although most aren’t forthcoming about the details of the impact it’s having. Makes me wonder if it’s having an impact at all.

This BOGO (Buy One Give One) approach seems much more genuine and sincere to me as a marketer and as a consumer. Granted to all companies are positioned to implement this type of service, however those who are should. Seems like a win-win to me. People give when it moves them knowing their contribution is making a much more immediate impact and companies don’t split a portion of their earnings but instead make an additional sale.

I’d go out of my way to do business with them for sure.

Thoughts are welcome.

liz

BTW – IF YOU CAN’T OPEN THE LINK THE ARTICLE IS COPIED AND PASTED BELOW 🙂

This should totally be a thing everywhere!

Kavya Guddehithulu Nagesh

2895 votes by Prerna Sharma, NaveenKumar Nanchari, Shaurya Chopra, (more)

“We enter a little coffeehouse with a friend of mine and give our order. While we’re approaching our table two people come in and they go to the counter:
‘Five coffees, please. Two of them for us and three suspended’ They pay for their order, take the two and leave.I ask my friend: “What are those ‘suspended’ coffees?”
My friend: “Wait for it and you will see.”

Some more people enter. Two girls ask for one coffee each, pay and go. The next order was for seven coffees and it was made by three lawyers – three for them and four ‘suspended’. While I still wonder what’s the deal with those ‘suspended’ coffees I enjoy the sunny weather and the beautiful view towards the square in front of the café. Suddenly a man dressed in shabby clothes who looks like a beggar comes in through the door and kindly asks
‘Do you have a suspended coffee ?’

It’s simple – people pay in advance for a coffee meant for someone who can not afford a warm beverage. The tradition with the suspended coffees started in Naples, but it has spread all over the world and in some places you can order not only a suspended coffee, but also a sandwich or a whole meal.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have such cafés or even grocery stores in every town where the less fortunate will find hope and support ? If you own a business why don’t you offer it to your clients… I am sure many of them will like it.

P.S -The intention of the whole story being shared is to convey that invisible act of love and kindness can touch one’s heart,especially homeless needy people.This is not about business but a cup/meal of goodwill and hope.
The feeling you convey that someone cares for you,someone wants to make sure you are not hungry gives a lot of hope and restores faith for a better tomorrow.

Bad Client!! BAD!!

When clients ask if there is a business opportunity within the Hispanic market I secretly roll my eyes in a here-we-go-again way. I’ve had it with that question for many reasons but mainly because it’s the wrong one.

That’s like a client/corporation asking “We’d like to sell some Peanuts. Will Americans like peanuts?”Well Mr. Client…No. Not ALL Americans will like peanuts.Some won’t like them and other will downright hate them. Heck. Some are even downright allergic to them. Now, does that mean peanuts shouldn’t be targeted and sold to Americans?

NO. No one would take than answer and halt all efforts meant to reach that market. So if that is the case, why do they continue to do so for the Hispanic market? In terms of numbers that is like turning down the opportunity to approach the 2^nd largest Hispanic “country” (the only country in the world with more Hispanics is Mexico).

Going by Pareto* (some smart Italian economist guy) and Joseph M. Juran (another equally smart econo-geek), 80% of your business revenue/sales come from only 20% of your clients. 20%. With this being the case why are clients expecting to have revenue generated by 100% of U.S. Hispanics or the deal is off??

And anyway, assuming there isn’t an already existing specific taste or affinity towards a certain product, that doesn’t mean there won’t be one. That’s our job as marketers. To create a need and a want. It’s not to just speak to people who are likely to fancy what we are advertising…You already have those people in the bag. Lets start casting the net further out to get those people who aren’t considered an “opportunity” because of the weak and unfounded assumption that they just won’t like what you are selling.

After all, no one ever got laid by not asking the other person out on a date first, right? Same goes for brands…Ask someone the right 20% of consumer to go on a date with your brand and you’ll get lucky.

Ok, I feel better.

Laters!

L

*I had no idea about the Pareto thing until my finance geek boyfriend brought him around and introduced us. Who would’ve thought I’d end up dating a complete and total nerd.

One could easily argue…

As a rebuttal to our ideas we sometimes get this phrase. “One could easily argue”. But what one could easily argue never makes a good enough case or one that will stand for more than a few conversations.

For example, one could easily argue that Global Warming is an over-hyped claim sensationalized by the media. One could also argue that the Republican party has the best interest in mind for the entire country and not just the financial elite. One could even easily argue that Channing Tatum is the sexiest man alive (which he is NOT).

Another example of an easy argument.
Whale Sperm clearly is the reason for salty sea water….

Point is one could easily argue ANYTHING. With so much information and data at our webby-finger tips we can gather enough point of views, perspectives, and opinions that, in high volume, eventually turn in to “facts”. “Facts” that most people use to easily argue everything.

 

 What we should be doing to challenge an idea is to intelligently and objectively argue. Because “easy” is just lazy, and a lazy argument never wins even if it’s ultimately right.

It’s Easy Being Brown

Found myself walking home last night from a screening of new HBO documentary, The Latino List. Y como diria mi Mama, with her exaggerated over the top tone, “Que. P-E-L-I-C-U-L-O-N.”  But details on the documentary another time. Right now I’m going focus on the walk.

Leaving El Muse Del Barrio in East Harlem at around 10:30pm. A block away I found myself in the hood. Literally. I went from Central-Park-Chic to the projects, and did so my state of mind.

This is pretty much what my brain processed, in this order:

1) What the hell just happened?

2) Are these the projects?

3) Are those guys in the corner selling drugs?

4) If there is a shooting and I get hit and taken to the hospital, I wore the ugliest pair of underwear. Ugh. How annoying.

5) Joke is on them if they steal my purse because I have noooo money. Hehehe.

And last but not least….

6) Oh, wait a damn minute. I’m brown. What the hell am I worried about? Pendeja….And when did I get so predigest?? Shame on me!

After the last thought, I felt safe. Even a bit at home. Got on my train, and 30 minutes later I was back in my neighborhood. I had magically traded baggy jeans, hoodies, and Salsa for salvation army tops, skinny jeans, and some Indie. In short, Latino for White. And I STILL felt at home.

Brought me back to a comment that was made to me a long time ago, and that still resonates. The gist of it is this; we Latinos have the ability to go in and out of our world, and into an American one and survive in both. It’s not as easy the other way around. This is something to be very proud about and leverage. It’s powerful stuff.

What CHEATING really means….

Cheating has become so prevalent in our society to the point it’s now a staple or a clear and present danger; something to be expected at one point or another in our romantic relationships. Almost all of us have experienced the indignities of it, however few of us have really stopped to think what the essence of cheating truly is.

When looking at the technical term of this is what comes up: To deceive, to elude, violate rules and regulations, a person who acts dishonestly. At the very very veeeeery last you come across the informal definition, which is to be sexually unfaithful.

And the definition of unfaithful? False to duty, promise or obligation, not sexually faithful to spouse or lover.

I urge the Webster Dictionary, or whoever has the last official word on the matter, to refine this term.

Cheating on a spouse or a lover is not delineated by an act of sexuality with a third person. Yes. This IS part of cheating. But are we really that animalistic that a third person being physical with our lover is what sends us into get-your-shit-out-of-my-house hissy fit? I don’t think so.

The real cheating and betrayal is the fact that your partner doesn’t have the courage to address what the real problems in the relationship with you and work them out. Instead, they take the cheap and dirty route, which is a roll in the hay with someone else.

But this isn’t even the REAL offense. The worst part of cheating is the effort that goes into building a relationship with this third person. The exchange of intimate thoughts, ideas, feelings, and conversations that should only be reserved for your lover. The trust that should only exist between two people in a committed relationship.

These are the things that define a relationship….not the exclusivity of sex. And it’s when these are exchanged with some other than you and your lover, that true betrayal really takes place. The sex escapade is simply a side effect. The insult on top of injury.

The definition of cheating should be redefined as this: Engaging with a third person in a way or form that should be reserved only for one’s spouse or lover.

To limit it to a sexual act is primitive.

Would love to hear thoughts on the matter so feel free to chime in.

WARNING: New York Bites III (and last….)

Ok, so I’ll keep it short…. In the previous posts we’ve reviewed the reasons why moving to New York is far from great. Bedbugs, hipsters, man-whores, rat infested public transportation, unwanted visitors, etc. All in effort to paint a realistic picture of what you are in for. Pretty much things I WISH someone would’ve told ME before I took the plunge into the NYC Rabbit Hole.

And now the biggest sources of potential emotional and financial suffering…..roommates and pets. But mostly roommates. Most definitely roommates.

• PETS – When I moved to New York I landed with only 4 things that belonged to me and nothing else: My purse, my suitcase (which for the most part held an inflatable mattress for me to sleep on), a Pomeranian, and a Chihuahua. This is it. So I didn’t really have much of a choice on whether to be responsible for a pet or not. I was responsible for TWO. It’s very hard, and expensive but it’s also twice as rewarding. I wake up to them licking my nostrils and fall asleep with their little butt holes inches away from my face and I would change a thing.  However….
  

  Sure, having pets sounds like a big ol' party. But it's not...

  • If you’ve never had a pet and just moved to NYC, don’t start practicing being responsible for another living thing now. You’ll have a hard enough time being responsible for your own hide at this point.
  • If you MUST get a pet start with a cat, bird, fish, or reptile; those things are like furniture you just have to dust every now and then. A dog is the equivalent of a really hairy crawling toddler, responsibility wise. They need constant attention, feedings, potty training, cleaning up after, lots of money, etc. Be prepared for this if you go for a pooch.
    

    "Okay guys, this has been fun but now can you please release me because I need to go home and walk ChiChi?"

  • If you already have a dog and couldn’t convince your parents to watch over him/her, then here is the best advice I can give you. Get a flexible dog walker ASAP. The biggest buzz kill is having to leave happy-hour after 8 sangrias to go pick up dog shit in the middle of a snow storm.
  • GET PET INSURANCE. I didn’t listen to this advice until recently, and so far one of my bastards has cost well over $8,000 in vet visits, x-rays, meds, operations, and shots. Why? Because he has a taste for jewelry that keeps getting tangled in his intestines.
  • For the love of jebus….pick up your dog’s caca. I had spent my entire life turning a blind eye to this mandatory evil until I moved here. People will rally around to lynch you if they catch you leaving poop behind. And the cops will back them up….don’t ask me how I know this.

• ROOMATES – Some people like living with strangers in cramped spaces, having their food stolen, getting woken up by someone else having sex, arguing over bills, and being forced to clean someone else’s messes when all they want to do is watch TV. Call me crazy, but this sounds like the 9^thHell to me. However, when I first moved here I thought this was the best recourse; I thought it’d be cheaper, and I would have a blast with my new girlfriend, and we’d run around being single gals in the city, blah, blah, blah. This fantasy lasted a total of 4 hours…tops. Yes. Some people do get a lucky break and land a really cool roommate. The chances of this happening to you are as likely as you marrying an attractive, sex starved, movie star, who is faithful and a millionaire. In other words, don’t hold your beer-breath. So here are some things to keep in the back of your skulls.
  

  "Oh, that Matt. How nice of him to let me know...unlike last time..."

  • Some decent one-bedroom apartments/studios are on average $1,300. If you can only afford $900, give up your 401k contributions, kiss cable goodbye, cut back on savings, and bring your lunch to work. I know this is frowned upon but trust me…these are temporary sacrifices that you can make for a year in exchange for your peace of mind (and the freedom to walk around naked as much as you like).
  • If you are set on getting a roommate, AVOID CRAIGS LIST. People there are unstable, at best.
  • Avoid HIPSTER roommates. They smell and claim to have no $$ so you’ll get stuck footing a lot of bills. Also they travel in packs, so your house will be invaded by these freeloaders and you’ll have to listen to their constant bullshit commentaries about obscure shit no one knows or cares about in your own home.

  • 

    ....at MY place!! Yeah don't worry about my roommate. She won't mind at ALL!!"

  • As a general rule, I would avoid living with women. Take it from me…most of us are impossible to please, crazy, jealous, moody, dramatic, and can’t really fix anything that breaks. I would move in with a serial killer before living with a woman again. At least the serial killer will put me out of my misery quickly and not drag it out for the whole 12-month lease.
  • Gentlemen…Men who live alone get laid more often than those who live with their little buddies. Something to think about….
  • If all I’ve said has convinced you living alone is best, then GREAT! One last thing you need to know at this point…. It will be small, it will be old, and when you bring your parents over they will try their best to pretend to be impressed and hold back tearful sobs of sorrow and disappointment. But look at it this way….this match box is YOUR castle. It is YOUR home away from home. And if you don’t want to shower or clean for days, that is YOUR business. Welcome to NYC adult life.

• FINANCES – Beats me. I can’t even manage my own to this date so I have no business giving advice on this, but if you have any please do share!!!

This concludes the lesson. Proceed with caution. Oh, and if you can think of anything else I may have missed, please do share! I’m sure a book could be written about this.

WARNING: New York Bites II

For those who are just catching up, we previously went over a few reasons why moving to the Big Apple that is home to the skinny, rich, fabulous, and famous, is really not what it’s cut out to be. Unless you are one of those skinny, rich, fabulous, famous people of course….

Unless your name is P. Diddy, Paris Hilton, or a Wall Street Banker, you should keep reading.....

 

Truth is, a solid 90% of us don’t fall in any of those categories. Not only do we not fall into it, but we hover pretty far above it, and watch from a distance with envy we pretend not to have. We say “Pffft…Why would I want to spend $3,000 on a sweater that is going to be out of season by next year? That’s so stupid”, or “I don’t need a car or a driver…I like being active, and walking is part of my exercise regiment. Helps me burn off the ramen noodle feast I had for lunch.”. You know you’re lying and so does everyone else.

But I have good news. You are not suffering the indignities of living in New York all by your lonesome. Most normal people feel the pain. Here are a few additional situations in which you can seek solance in knowing your miserable ass has company….Say hello to bedbugs, ill fated friendships, and (lack of) relationships.

They look much scarier than this btw...

• BED BUGS – I had no idea what this was before coming here, so here is a quick recap….they are tiny tiny bugs that look like alien-monsters from another planet that spread like wild fire and live in all that is fabric and bite you. On top of that, they are an infinite nightmare you get rid off (seeeeee how they keep sounding like hipsters???). And when they finally go, so does your new mattress and couches. The level of concern that erupts with even the MENTIONING of the word ranks up there with TERRORISM. These little assholes inject immense fear in the hearts of all New Yorkers. How do you avoid them?

 

• Most people would tell you not to go dumpster diving. I’m not most people and I also LOVE to dumpster dive so I’m not gonna go there. I will say this; if you acquire any clothing from a street vendor or sidewalk garbage can, make sure you wash it twice. On the other hand, if you see a cute brand new sofa hanging out on the sidewalk, keep walking. The ex-owners of said furniture didn’t just wake up that morning and decide they were going to throw out a perfectly good couch because they felt like it. It has bedbugs. Leave it.

 

This is you. This is how pathetic you’ll look like for the first few months. Own it and rock it.

• FRIENSHIPS – NYC is full of new and interesting people. There are so many, that everyone is bound to find a few kindred spirits they can run around drunk with throughout the city, spend broke-poor-nights watching cable because they can’t afford the bar, or any other of the gizillon things two people can do in NYC. However, be warned, this doesn’t happen over night. Or within your first month. Or the first 6 months.
  • Realize that even though you’ll meet and become BBFs with anyone that crosses your path for the 1^st year, 80% of these will either end up being assholes, fair-weather friends, acquaintances, psychos, or just simply desperate souls like yourself attaching themselves to anyone who will have them even though they know you have nothing in common because it’s better than being alone like a loser. These 80% will gradually begin to disappear from your cell phone contacts. p.s. these are the types of run-on-sentences that would get me bad grades in school.
  • There is a loophole to the 80% “friends” rule. A small percentage of these people are worth keeping under certain circumstances if you can tolerate them. These include the following: They own a car, they have a lake/beach house, they have extremely HOT friends, they are well connected, they are fun drunks. Every single one of you dramatically gasping and shaking your heads, please save your hypocrisy for another occasion. YOU KNOW YOU ALL HAVE DONE THIS. Ps. Chances are, if these “loophole friends” are friends with you at the same time, you fall under one of these categories for them too….
  • The other 20% will very likely be solid. And besides from being solid, they will also become your NYC Family. Of course, no one can replace your real family. If it came down to selling one of my friends or one of my siblings I’d sell the friend…unless it’s my sister Rubi I have to sell. I’d sell her. She’s a DISASTER!! Just kidding. I wouldn’t sell her.…she wouldn’t go for much anyway. (Love you anyway, you Loser!!!!)
  • You CAN grow your 20% big group of friends to have a bigger Pseudo NYC Family easily. How? Introduce your 20% friends to all their 20% friends and vice versa. Birds of a feather flock together so chances are you all will like each other and soon have whatever 20% x 20% worth of friends is. I’m not good at math (or grammar) but that comes out to a lot more than your original 20%, right?!?!!?!?

 

• RELATIONSHIPS – I can’t tell you much because since I moved here, I haven’t had much luck. This is supported by article, after article, stating that NYC is one of the worst cities in the US for single women. For men, it’s like shooting slutty fish after fish in a barrel. Why? Because the women to men ratio here is 3 to 5 or some ridiculous crap like that.
  

  It's a published FACT!!!

  If you’ve ever watched videos of Bono female monkeys in their natural habitat, you’ll a good idea of what to expect. To give you a idea let me paraphrase an article released by the New York Times: “Sex for a Bonobo is casual, it’s quick and once you’re used to watching it, it begins to look like any other social interaction.”  There is a good reason as to why you don’t see these monkeys in your average zoo, and that is because it’s mainly a group of female monkeys waving their bloated butts in the air hoping to catch the attention of a random male passing by in hopes to lure them. And they do (duh!). And what ensues can be traumatizing for children and parents.

Wanna be my boyfriend? No?...Mmmmk. How about we just go home together and you never call me again? Yes!?! GREEEEAAT!!!

Here is a sample of what NYC looks like to me on your average Friday and Saturday night (if you are under 18 please go ask your mommy and daddy if they approve of you clicking on the link provided).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=51PmRkhkqqI

 

In short, here is what I have to say to the women…GOOD LUCK. And to the men, LUCKY YOU!! Like I said before, NYC is a Jungle and most people here are Bonobos. Try your best to not become one. It never ends well people!

 

• STYLE & CLOTHING – I grow tired of those over the top people who walk out of the house, rain or shine, or snow, or massive hangover, looking like a magazine cover. It takes a lot of time, money, and vanity to do this and life is short. So here is my advice.
  

  "Don't you wish you were hot like me! Don't you wish you were HIP like me! Don't you wish you wore this for halloween like me!!!"

  • Be YOU. If this is WHO you’ve always been….a narcissist… then by all means carry on! Embrace it! But if you’ve always been you average-off-the-sales-rack-H&M-Target- Occasional-Macys-roll-out-of-bed-person then WHY CHANGE NOW?? Friends and family back home will see right through your bullshit metamorphosis and talk much deserved shit behind your back. And so will everyone else new you meet. Anxious desperation to be someone you are not reeks a mile away. Be YOU. You’ve made it good so far by doing just that, so why fake it now?
  • NYC is a melting pot!! This applies to style, fashion, and taste. Most people that move here come with this disturbing notion that everyone here is an actor in Gossip Girl. This is wrong! Walk your dogs in your PJs, wear a t-shirt to work if you can, and don’t put on make up if you don’t feel like it. Chances are, the day to do go out of your way to get all “fashion-y” you’ll end up sitting next to someone wearing a potato sack with converse gym shoes at a dinner party. And it’s going to be 50-50 on who is the bigger idiot at that point….but my money is on you, because at least the Potato Sack Crazy person had the balls to give a big “fuck you” to those pretentious assholes with $500+ outfits by still being able to sit next to them and share a meal in spite of wearing literal garbage.
  • If you chose to be one of The City cast members, I hope you have trust fund like they do. And also that you grow a brain and a personality.

Ok, I think I’m done for now so in the famous words of Forest Gump, that’s all I have to say about that. Keep an eye out for the next and final chapter of why NYC Bites, when we dive into the nightmare of roommates, the buzz-kill of dog walking, and finances.

Stay tuned.

p.s. Please excuse the typos.

WARNING: New York Bites…and so do the bedbugs, hipsters, and rats.

To say that moving to New York City is tough is an understatement. It’s actually the most understated understatement of all understatements. However, most, if not all who migrate to this monstropolis think to know what they are in for.

I know this because I thought I did until reality slowly hit, bump, after bump, after pothole, and after bump in the road.  It wasn’t until month 6 that I finally said to myself “HOLY SHIT. WHY IS EVERYTHING HERE SO F($%$^&^)&*F&^%(^&)&*^ HARD?!?” Everything is a battle uphill. From finding a damn public bathroom, to getting from one place to another, to scrounging enough change to buy A BEER; not even a full six-pack….I mean just a damn 40!

This is me about every other day

Here is why we are all fooled: Because of Sex and The City, and their swanky, stress free brunch frolicking. Not a care in the world besides fending off or sleeping with devastatingly gorgeous sexy men who night after night fall into their beds. Or the Mary Tyler Moore Syndrome, which causes most women to believe moving here is as simple as throwing your chic little hat in the air and screaming “I am here New York! I’ve made it!”.  Ladies. Trust me. You haven’t even made it into the stratosphere of the NYC world when you set foot here.

Don't let these lying "swanky" sluts fool you....

 

 

I’ve always felt sympathy for the bright-eyed-star-struck-hopefuls who are on their way to the Jungle (or as I prefer to call it…The Amazon) and have gone out of my way to provide cautionary warnings disguised as advice, in hopes I can help them avoid the grievances I suffered when I was in their shoes.

On that note, I have compiled a list of “wisdoms” learned with blood, sweat and tears over the past two years. Also some not-so-common-sense observations that can help survive good ol’ New York City.

 

 

 

 

In no particular order of importance:

• WALKING – Learn to walk. This sounds very rudimentary, and anywhere else in the U.S. I would agree. Not here. Walking is an art in The Big Apple. If you can walk here, you can walk ANYWHERE.
  • When crossing the street, lights mean NOTHING. Use your eyes/ears and look BOTH ways no matter what direction the traffic is supposed to be coming from. There will always be an asshole who tried to beat the light, make an illegal turn, or a biker to whom traffic laws don’t apply to.
  • Walking is like driving on the expressway. There is a slow lane and a fast lane. If you are looking up in awe at the buildings like an idiot or texting, be prepared to get bulldozed over. I once had a friend tell me she wanted to kick the back of people’s legs at Time Square (mainly people with knee high socks and fanny packs)….I can relate to that feeling. If you are on this “Sunday Walking Mode” move to the inside of the sidewalk.
  • When crossing the street, again, lights mean n-a-d-a. If you see the red hand, but no cars coming, and the rest of the crowds crossing, just cross. Otherwise, EVERYONE leaving you behind on the sidewalk like an 80-year-old woman will collectively think you’re a retard. Or a tourist. Not sure which is worse.
  • No matter how cute your outfit is and how the shoes “pull it together”, wear a pair of equally cute flats and change them to the stilettos a block away from your destination. There are more podiatrists in NYC than anywhere else. There is a reason for that, and the reason is idiots who wear high-heels to and from work. 35% of you will listen to me and the others will have corns and back pains and finally get the point once it starts snowing.

Say hello to your fellow passanger, Chico.

• TRAINS (the bus is sooo passé)- If you don’t have a car brace yourself for plenty of underground adventures!
  • All the leftover stairs in the world got dumped in the MTA. All of them. It’s a giant, hot, sweaty, urine-stained, stair-master. Love it or get a bike.
  • Don’t take the Drunk Train Express. Anytime after 10:30pm that’s what it is. Do yourself a favor and pony up for a cab or prepare yourself to missing your stop  (and getting lost) or getting picked on by some drunk (juuuust like you).
  • Same as the walking thing….wear flats. Heels get caught in the million grates or stairs and the last thing you want to do is chafe your knee on a subway floor.
  • Rats. ‘Nough said.
  • If you are one for wearing short and flowy skirts, be VERY aware of wind down there. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve flashed my holey grandma underwear.
  • THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT ONE SO PAY ATTENTION. DO NOT STAND IN THE FRONT OF THE TRAIN DOORWAY LIKE A BOUNCER IF YOU AREN’T GETTING IN OR OUT OF THE TRAIN. It’s a HUGE train. Unless it’s packed to the rim or you weigh 300lb get the fuck out of the way and let people in and out of the train!!!!!!!!!!!! If you don’t, one day you will get shoulder slammed by an average sized Latina and that will be me, you RUDE BUTTHOLE!!!

 

• CABS –  Cabs in NYC are GANSTER. And so this is how you have to behave. Like a tough, aggressive, ruthless, brute bastard.  Here are some golden rules to live by.
  

  This is very important to remember so you don't look like a fool (like I did for the first year I lived here).

  • DO NOT tell the cab driver where you are going until your ass is solidly planted on the seat. To them you are one in a million options and if they don’t feel like driving in the direction you need to go, they will just drive off before your hand is even on the handle. They don’t give a sh*t.
  • If you’ve managed to climb in the car and THEN got refused the ride, you have two options: A) Get out of the cab, defeated or B) Stand your ground and remind them that BY LAW they can’t refuse you the ride because “they aren’t going in that direction” and glue your self to the seat until they get on the road. Threatening to call 911 may come into effect sometimes. I prefer B.
  • If the roads look like a parking lot, take a Gypsi Cab, for they have a flat rate, which means the meter from a Yellow Cab won’t become $60 for just ten blocks.
  • Don’t hail a cab by sticking your fat thumb up in the air. It looks stupid.

• FRIENDLY VISITS – Welcome to your second job as an unpaid Big Apple Tour Guide. Why? Because everyone you’ve ever met in your entire life will come out of the woodwork, decide they miss you, and book a trip to see you. NOTE: “You”, may sometimes stand for “New York City”…after a while you’ll be able to tell the difference.
  

  "I'll take you to see the FUCKING Statue of Liberty AGAIN but I will NOT wear matching T-shirts!"

  • Be prepared to see the Statue of Liberty, the MET, Empire State Building, etc, multiple times.
  • Also be prepared to magically be on the same “vacation budget” your long lost friends and relatives came with.
  • And oh yeah, you will be expected to offer your couch as an alternative to a hotel.
  • All of the above will eventually begin to grind on your nerves and your finances unless said visitors are people you truly love and have been a constant staple in your life through the good, the bad, and the ugly. These people will be your lifeline and you will long for their visits, because as crowded as NYC is, it can be a very lonely place sometimes. Give these people the couch, the 5^th tour to the MoMa, and all the attentions a cherished friend deserves.

• HIPSTERS – If you are one, stop reading this blog immediately. I don’t like you and would rather not give you my hard earned advice. So take you, your fedora, your mustache, your PBR, and your salvation army raggedy clothes to American Apparel where you and your breed can talk about bullshit art and music like broken, vapid, records. If you aren’t a hipster, read on…
  

  Even the most interesting man on earth agrees.

  • In case you don’t know what a hipster is, I found this site that gives a remarkably good and accurate description: http://the-opt.com/?p=425
  • Now that you know what they are be prepared to find them everywhere. E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E. Very much like rats, and bedbugs. Unlike rats and bed bugs, you can’t kill them because it isn’t legal…yet.
  • I’d like to back track on the EVERYWHERE part a bit…they tend to avoid neighborhoods in which minorities and true culture truly exists. I guess if they stay too close to it they will be found out for being the brutally pathetic, boring, simple, sad non-individuals that they really are.
  • Don’t be fooled into thinking these odd-looking “individuals” that look like homeless people or drag queens are from New York City. The opposite is true. Real city folk look like normal human beings; they don’t have the torturing need to go above and beyond to fit in or be “cool”. Hipsters, 9 times out of 10 are from the country/suburbs/another planet.  Hence their desperation to disguise themselves as clowns.
    

    Oh my...you are so cool with your neon yellow leopard print leotard and your sweat and cum stained tank top with a .50 tie from the Salvation Army. Can I PLEAS BE YOU?!? Pretty, pretty, please!!!??

Some of you veterans of war are nodding and shaking your heads, as vague recollection of horror creep into your heads. Those of you who are in  the process of growing the balls to move here are thinking, “Oh, that’s it?!?! Pfffft…”. No, Little Retarded Grasshoppers….That is NOT it. I figured I would just pop your NYC-Whimsical-World-Cherry one push at a time. This is just the tip of the dirt-ridden iceberg you are about to collide with. Stay tuned for the next Blog-pesode of “New York Bites”.

And btw – I wouldn’t leave it for the world (that’s because I’m a sick, sick masochist).

Smell ya later!

The Immortal Napoleon

I was going through my morning cuddle ritual with my dog Napoleon, when that creepy morbid thought that sneaks up on all of us who own and love a pet crawled into my head; how fucking bad am I going to lose it when he dies??

After running over scenarios like attempted suicide, taking a week off work for a mourning period, immediately replacing him with another dog and naming him Napoleon II, and having him stuffed like those dead animals at the museum, I told myself (and him) what every sane and realistic pet crazed person tells themselves. In that annoying baby voice I said out loud as I squeezed the shit out him “You’re not going anywhere wittle baby. You are going to live forrrrrrrever!! Yes you are! Yes you are!” followed by a kiss attack.

Whether or not science has made the leaps and advances to make this physically possible, I know for a fact this little fat dog is already immortalized. And I know what you people are thinking…”Oh gawd…yes your dog is the best dog in the world” followed by a collective eye roll. And to those none believers, here is what I have to say: “Shut the fuck up, you fucking jerks!” NO he is NOT the best dog in the world. As a matter of fact he is THE MOST IMPERFECT dog specimen of the entire history of dog specimens.

He is SUCH the ANTI-DOG that I felt compelled to let the world know.

Napoleon doesn’t even look like a dog in spite of my best attempts at selecting the best Chihuahua dog breeder and the shinny nickels he cost (12,000 of them to be exact). Which brings me to my first point.  I wish I had a nickel for every time I’ve found myself answering the question “WHAT IS THAT??” from strangers on walks. If I’m in a good mood I’ll humor them and say “This one? He is three Chihuahuas” or “You mean my boyfriend?”. If I’m not in any mood I just say “FAT, ok? He’s FAT”.

He’s so fat he can’t even lick himself, and in my opinion, every self-respecting dog should be able to perform fellatio on himself. It’s one of the best parts of being a dog, next to being freeloaders who get food and shelter and never have to work (if stay at home wives could go down on themselves, would that make them equal to dogs, I wonder? Hmmm…Anyway I digress.).

It doesn’t end there. He also grunts. Like a pig. He grunts 90% more times than he barks…and is deadly afraid of cats, squirrels, and birds. Again, not your typical Lassie.

His tongue hangs out about and inch and half. Constantly. It’s interminable parched and it DRAGS on the ground.  But on the bright side it lets me know when I have to sweep based on the lint and dirt it collects.

He likes to eat metal. ANYTHING METAL. Safety pins, pennies, earrings, jean buttons, shoe buckles. Anything that is hard and lethal. He once ate three safety pins, a necklace and a bathroom matt. He also loves dog pee. It’s his “thing”.

He prefers to fight lying down. Seriously. In a glass half-full optimistic way I rather think he’s multitasking.

His sleeping habits are another thing. His farts, that he is OBLIVIOUS to, wake me up at least once a week. He also licks my armpits while I’m asleep resulting in a near-stroke; if you live in NYC, you would know that creeps breaking into apartments and licking you are not isolated occurrences.

But when I cry he will squeeze himself against me so close that I swear he’s trying to climb inside my body to lick my wounds. And when he realizes he can’t scratch his wait into my stomach he will settle for licking my tears.

If I want to hold and kiss him, he’ll tolerate it for at least 10 minutes.

If I want a kiss from him…well I don’t because I know he just finished licking dog pee outside.

It’s the mayor flaws and imperfections that make Napoleon a poor excuse of a dog, but also what brings him closer to being MORE than a dog. He wattles to the beat of his own drum, there is no other living thing in the Milky way like him, and he doesn’t give a shit about what anyone else thinks (other than his Mommy Liz).

At the end of the day, no one can tell you your pet isn’t the most incredible and unique living specimen. Because only you, behind closed intimate doors, are the only one that has a front row seat to the human, tender, love-stricken gaze your best friend bestows upon you day in and day out. And nothing can replace that kind of mutual adoration.

So to conclude; I dedicate this to all of the Napoleons out there. And also to the wonderful doctors at Northside Veterinary Clinic in Williamsburg and the Veterinary Emergency & Referral Group in Brooklyn (VERG) who are at this moment trying to get the SECOND set of jewelry out of Napoleon’s belly as we speak.

Hello world!

I’ve started a new blog. It’s officially the beginning of the end.