Archive for March, 2006

The big mix-up

March 12, 2006

I was on Creamy Crayons today, the soft crayons that become water color when you paint over them with water. I was seated at a table and had kids come sit down and color with me. Easy peasy.

I ran into the inevitable one year olds who parents see a toy they can actually play with and let them run rampant and even try to eat these crayons. I ran into the parents who left their children with me thinking I was their personal free babysitter. I ran into the children who would tell their parents “No!” and what to do and their parents would do it, if the kids said “Jump!” the parents would say “How High!” while already jumping up and down trying to satisfy their demon children.

Then I ran into the Orthodox family. Normally it’s locals on Saturdays and foreigners and Orthodox Jewish on Sundays. That’s just how the store works. Now this kid, about four, with long curly brown hair tied half-way back with a sparkling bow clip sits down. This child is wearing tights with hearts on them underneath shorts and a fitted denim jacket with coordinating puma sneakers. The kid dropped a crayon and ordered the mom to pick it up, I trying to play nice get to it first and say “Here you go cute Puma shoe girl.” The mom or child hadn’t told the kid’s name and I usually say something similar in this situation.

That’s when the mother said “That’s not a girl, it’s a boy.” That’s when I did a double-take and said “Oh! I’m sorry. Let’s just get back to coloring.”


I had to alleviate the tension and remove myself from the equation. I ran back to Jen who was counting the till  and asked her if that kid was a boy or a girl.

“Girl. Are you crazy. Look at the sparkly clip an the tights.”

“Boy.” I told her.

“Boy?” she shrieks at which point the mother turns and looks at us looking at her. Nothing good came from that interaction.
Let’s just say. It was a big mix-up I’m not making again. I now am going to be completely gender neutral unless the parent makes a “she” or “he” remark first.


My LES foodie dream

March 10, 2006

Eater had a contest to describe how you would spend $250 on food and a drink on a Thursday night in the Lower East Side. The prize, dinner at 71 Clinton that’s closing.

 I’m difficult though. I would prefer to spend my money on a Saturday or Lazy Sunday in the LES, rather than Thursday night. Oh, and another little caveat, I can’t drink. and I don’t drink.

So, I wrote up a little diddy but never sent it. For my own records, this is how I would spend a dream Saturday or Sunday in the LES with $250 for food (provided by someone else).

I like bang for my buck, so $250 is like a goldmine.  First, you have to start with brunch since getting an early start to the day is out of the question if your quest, as in mine, would be gluttony.

Essex of course fits the bill. $12 for the matzo brei concoction ( I go the vegetarian route on this one though I think there is a meatier one as well) and then of course a side of  home fries for another $3 and then of course all the mimosa’s you can drink. Technically I think it’s three and I don’t drink but since I plan on only paying for my own meal, since I’m stingy and technically the money would be mine, I’ll pass out those drinks to the brunch party as compensation. Finally of course, leave a $5 tip for service and having to deal with my then drunk friends.So that leaves $230.

Yonah Schimmel’s is next on the list to load up on knishes. Why not? Scary work lady who took me to see Kinsey with her and her 70 year old husband introduced them to me. The only good thing she introduced me to that night. At what I remember is like $2 a pop, you can get a lot from savory to sweet. I would bulk up on the potato and then the sweet potato variety- 10 each to appease the masses totaling only $40.

That leaves $190.

Having resided in the dear old jolly land of England, I miss the chocolates immensely. Therefore best head to Economy Candy to load up on them. My faves are the Aeros, Flakes, and Kit Kat Chunky’s. The each run about $1.40 so figure 10 each, since I really should watch my figure is $42. While I’m there might as well get some bulk candy as well, I’m a sucker for dark chocolate nonpareils. I think those run about $12/lb so get two-who really needs to watch their figure anyway, bringing the total up to $66.

That leaves $133.

Enough of being thrifty. Time to splurge WD-50 – never been and am quite curious. So best get the veggie tasting menu at $95, then of course the dessert tasting at $35 Which is $130.

Finish up the night after opening both the button and zipper of my pants and walking like I just rode a horse with a grilled veggie dog at the pushcart for $2, and tip the guy $1 because he was always nice to me.

High on….work

March 5, 2006

Sometimes, although something may not go your way, you have to choose the moments of humor to weigh more on the scales of experience than the moments of misery and pain.

Work is pain. Work is misery. Yet moments at work are pure gold.

For instance, today I was marked to demo Magic Plastic, liquid plastic you put on a straw and blow bubbles that’s now “non-toxic.” Or so they say. After stepping on a tube, ruining the carpet, having it all over my hands, I started blowing actual bubbles. Wooh. But somewhere down the line, either the amount of air I was expending or the “non-toxic” smell of the plastic made me high. Really high. The phrase “higher than the kite” didn’t even apply, high.

This led me to try and convince customers unconvincingly that this toy was appropriate for their 5 year old child. This led me to pop a few bubbles, mid-blow and shout “I suck at blowing.” – leading customers to stare at me. (NB: That is so becoming a pin for something) It led me to shout out that “It’s hard for Ruben to get it up” when he couldn’t get his remote controlled motorcycle going. It led me to walk by a whole bunch of celebs on my way home who were filming Reign O’er Me (entitled on IMDB as Empty City) at Baruch (transformed to the Manhattan Criminal Court) singing Bob Marley at the top of my lungs while PA’s tried to tackle me.

Sometimes, you have to cherish these moments of absurdity to be able to survive the misery of retail. Note to remember for the rest of my life.

Riding the famous’ coat tails

March 4, 2006

I could never be a famewhore’s whore. It wouldn’t work. At the toy store, we get tons of celebs in all the time, and there are two distinct traits divided between the female celebs and the male celebs.

If you are a female celeb it is gauranteed, even indoors, you will purposely try to make yourself appear like a praying mantis. What do I mean? Abnormally large sunglasses that cover 5/8th’s of your face, super skinny legs and arms but adorned with abnormally large bracelets, bags, and boots.

If you are a male celeb you will be adorned, even indoors with a similar praying mantis but with overprocessed hair and a fur coat in attempt to distinguish themselves as the pampered and not the actual working female celeb.

Female celebs for the most part, although insect in appearance tend to be nice. Male celebs could care less about being in a toy store. Male celeb’s female famewhore’s whore, the bitchiest people on the planet. I mean I guess it is quite demanding and taxing to spend other people’s money. And all the time to overfry your hair!

Today I was on the comfy computer, the annoying computer for 1-5 year olds when suddenly Scottie Pippen, former Bulls star, approached. Not that big on the celeb meter but still big enough to warrent two security guards with him. He noticed the comfy computer and in an attempt to break for freedom from being subjected to shopping, he actually listened to the pitch and was going to buy. Yes! Another one sold! But then, I got a whif of the bleach and my sales went from +2 to -139283.

“Oh please, she’s way too advanced for that. She’s two and the smartest princess. And it only comes in clear. Don’t you have something stylish in pink, with crystals? Something more expensive?”

He quickly put it down, resigned looking. She readjusted her fur coat, attempted to flip her fried hair and sent the personal shopper in to a panicked scramble to find something educational for her “extremely” bright two year old that was also “blinged” out.

She’s just spending his money and he doesn’t care.

However that one image of Scottie Pippen putting down the Comfy Computer made another potential customer return the already almost purchased computer and several others walk away quickly.

Thanks famewhore’s whore. You look like an overprocessed praying mantis, and you are devouring your famewhore like one as well.

Truth Tables

March 1, 2006

Truth tables are a type of mathematical table used in logic to determine whether an expression is true or valid. However, wouldn’t life be much simpler if this was truly applicable to real life, not hypothetical conjecturing?

For example, as shown in the wikipedia definition:

Logical conjuction is when two propositional variables, A and B, and the logical operator “and” (∧), signifying the conjunction “A and B” or AB. In common English, if both A and B are true, then the conjunction “AB” is true; under all other possible assignments of truth values to AB, the conjunction is false. This relationship is defined as follows: by thomas james


The logical disjunction or “OR” (∨) relationship is defined as follows:


It’s nice. It’s neat. It’s logic. But life doesn’t work that way. Sometimes to false statements make a truth and two true statements make a false one.

Logically that doesn’t make sense, but neither does life.

Where am I going with this? I took a good old truth table test to my life and things didn’t add up. I guess it started when people keep asking me what I want to do with my life. I say I don’t know, I haven’t found myself, but I know. Deep down in my heart, I want to write. However, I know I’m not good enough to ever do that for a living.

That kills.

“No I’m not pregnant.” “Yes I am single.” “No I’m not in a relationship, I don’t believe in love or relationships.” “No I’m not just saying that.” – Things I said to my radiologist today before I was irradiated, blown up, x-rayed, and fried. He said I was lying. It didn’t make sense that I wasn’t ever in a relationship or not pregnant at my age. But that was true.

That kills.

“Someone so young shouldn’t be so sick” he said after awhile.

That kills even more.

I wish life was like logic sometimes, black and white. Logical and predictable. But it isn’t. And that kills most of all.