the double text #15
pls excuse my typos.
Friends,
This week’s report of alternate side parking went like this—
Monday: I heard yelling down on the street, so I ran out onto my terrace to see a man standing over another man’s driver’s side window, berating him for messing up the line of cars that were aiming to get back in their *exact* spots after the sweeper came by. More expletives, middle finger wagging, spitting on the floor, running around the parked car hollering. They almost came to blows, but then a third man jumped out of his car to break it up. They screamed some more. And then dispersed when the clock hit 12:30 pm.
Tuesday: It was my turn to do-si-do with New York Sanitation and the two guys in the cars in front of me (both standing on the sidewalk, stretching, moving about the cabin) and I got to chatting. We talked smack about alternate side parking, how stressful it can be, and then I asked them how long they’ve been doing it. One guy said, “A really long time,” and the other said about ten years. I told them I’d been doing it for three, and he called me a rookie. A rookie? Depending on how often I have to go somewhere, I’m doing ASP minimum two, sometimes three, and in the worst weeks from the fiery pits of hell four times a week. I wasn’t offended but then I got to calculating hours lost. And thinking: Jesus fucking Christ, am I going to still be doing this in TEN YEARS?
Wednesday: The greatest day of the week, no alternate side, nowhere to go, nowhere to be. A blissfully luxurious day where I don’t have to rot in the car for an hour and a half wishing I could go to the bathroom.
Thursday: Hopped in the car ready to drive up to SUNY since I’m a teaching assistant this semester. A little sad to be losing out on the extra hours of being in a Friday spot and giving it up on a Thursday. Then, the transmission malfunction notice popped up the dash. Last time I saw that message, back in January — rats had eaten the wires and caused us over a thousand bucks of damage. I was stressed. I did not drive North. Instead, we took the car to the dealership, and did you know that majority of cars made in the last decade have wires made out of SOY? Oh? You didn’t know they made cars edible? Well neither did we.
You know who does know that? The rats. The rats of New York City know.
Now, here’s your double text—
A Thread: What is the best Wi-Fi name you have seen in your entire life?
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Will & Harper
I’ve been counting down the days for this release - out today!!
Charger Thief
Okay, buckle up for this immaturity: While deboarding a plane with mechanical issues at Newark Airport, Vanessa Clover found a charger in the aisle. She held it up in an attempt to locate its owner, and when no one claimed it, she tried to give it to flight attendants. They refused to accept the property, so she held onto it. Three hours later, all the passengers boarded the plane, including the man who lost his charger. And then he went ballistic on her. It’s obvious that he’s a complete lunatic and just wanted attention but my favorite POV is this random guy who corrobates Clover’s story. Also, for a charger? All I’m left with is feeling sorry for his wife… how does he act when LEFTOVERS are involved?
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Mr. McMahon
My hot take is that Vince McMahon’s entire ethos and identity were forged because his father did not tell him he loved him until the day before his death (at 69) when Vince was about 37 years old.
Oh, Mary!
If you haven’t seen the insane press about Oh, Mary! already… This is all you need to know—You simply MUST see this show.
See you next week! And please share this newsletter with anyone you think would enjoy reading it. xVLB