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Friday, February 24, 2012
Coq au Vin
The Yankee Chicken is studying up on becoming a sommelier at some fancy venue, and would take great pride in being considered a cultured Yankees fan/...oh, let's be real here, he just wants to pick up chicks (see what I did there?). Fear not, baseball season will be all the hobby he needs six weeks from now.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Safe at Home
The Yankee Chicken asks you to please excuse him this week, as he barricades himself away from the threat of JWoww and Snooki in his hometown. Still, the countdown must go on...
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Don't You Wanna Dance, Say You Wanna Dance, Don't You Wanna Dance? (DANCE)
I have a distinct memory of eating my breakfast one weekday spring morning in 1987. The stereo was on, as it was every morning when I got ready for school, and I remember sitting at the kitchen table as the DJ on the local radio station announced he was going to play for the first time a brand-new Whitney Houston song. It was "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" and I remember really digging it at the age of 10, and also feeling really cool at just having listened to her song played for the first time ever - on the NJ station, anyway. It went on to be one of the most played songs that summer, to the point that I remember my friends and I at the beach making our Barbies dance to it.
Whitney wasn't my favorite artist of the 80s/early 90s, per se, and I don't feel as tied to her stuff as I did with Michael Jackson, but I liked many of her songs, and she was totally an integral part of the soundtrack of my youth (I can't remember a span from my childhood when she didn't have a song on the radio). And in totally random ways:
-- "One Moment in Time," for some bizarre reason, was stuck in my head when I took my road test for my driver's license (I passed - otherwise, I may not have fond memories of the song).
-- My friend Amy playing the I'm Your Baby Tonight cassette over and over, and us laughing at the premise of the song "My Name is Not Susan" and taking the "He fills me up" in "All The Man That I Need" in its most literal sense (Come on, we were 13).
-- Her Star Spangled Banner from the 1991 Super Bowl was one of the first times I felt how tied together this country could be in patriotism, especially after hearing it on the radio so often in the weeks to come. That may sound schmaltzy, but as an 8th grader experiencing my country being at war for the first time in my life, it was really kind of moving.
-- My friend Des and I playing The Bodyguard soundtrack at pub while we were out with her dad and sister one day passing out fliers for his police department, and the bartender rolling his eyes at having to hear "I'm Every Woman".
-- Walking into the Astoria beer garden (before it was cool for young people to go there), and the main indoor bar area being packed with old, grizzled men... and "I Will Always Love You" randomly coming on the jukebox, which cracked my friend Hollis and I up.
I guess her death shouldn't come as surprising given her past, but it is still somewhat surreal. Judging by my Facebook and Twitter feeds tonight, I'd say it's safe to say many of my generation are digesting the news similarly. And regardless of her recent struggles, it's always hard to see an icon from your childhood die so friggin' young.
Oh, and for the record, this one was always my fave. She may have had bigger, more inspirational songs, but, yeah, I still get psyched whenever this comes on. RIP, Whitney:
Whitney wasn't my favorite artist of the 80s/early 90s, per se, and I don't feel as tied to her stuff as I did with Michael Jackson, but I liked many of her songs, and she was totally an integral part of the soundtrack of my youth (I can't remember a span from my childhood when she didn't have a song on the radio). And in totally random ways:
-- "One Moment in Time," for some bizarre reason, was stuck in my head when I took my road test for my driver's license (I passed - otherwise, I may not have fond memories of the song).
-- My friend Amy playing the I'm Your Baby Tonight cassette over and over, and us laughing at the premise of the song "My Name is Not Susan" and taking the "He fills me up" in "All The Man That I Need" in its most literal sense (Come on, we were 13).
-- Her Star Spangled Banner from the 1991 Super Bowl was one of the first times I felt how tied together this country could be in patriotism, especially after hearing it on the radio so often in the weeks to come. That may sound schmaltzy, but as an 8th grader experiencing my country being at war for the first time in my life, it was really kind of moving.
-- My friend Des and I playing The Bodyguard soundtrack at pub while we were out with her dad and sister one day passing out fliers for his police department, and the bartender rolling his eyes at having to hear "I'm Every Woman".
-- Walking into the Astoria beer garden (before it was cool for young people to go there), and the main indoor bar area being packed with old, grizzled men... and "I Will Always Love You" randomly coming on the jukebox, which cracked my friend Hollis and I up.
I guess her death shouldn't come as surprising given her past, but it is still somewhat surreal. Judging by my Facebook and Twitter feeds tonight, I'd say it's safe to say many of my generation are digesting the news similarly. And regardless of her recent struggles, it's always hard to see an icon from your childhood die so friggin' young.
Oh, and for the record, this one was always my fave. She may have had bigger, more inspirational songs, but, yeah, I still get psyched whenever this comes on. RIP, Whitney:
Friday, February 10, 2012
On the Coming of JWoww and Snooki
So the news came down from on high this week that I'd be getting some new neighbors: Ms. Jenni "JWoww" Farley and Ms. Nicole "Snooki" Polizzi. Yes, they're taking up residence in The JC for a few weeks to film their Jersey Shore spin-off show. I have two big issues with this, and neither of them have to do with fear of bar fights or an influx of "How YOU doin'" types invading the local watering holes and making my walks around town ridiculous (though, okay, that is a minor fear).
When I tell people where I'm from, I usually say, "Middletown, New Jersey." When they don't get that (or any Kevin Smith references), I say "It's near Red Bank" because the once semi-plain Jane town I grew up near is now all hoity-toity, complete with a Tiffany's, and cityfolk actually go there to walk around with a Starbucks in their hands and a "The suburbs ain't so bad" gleam in their eyes on the weekends. But if somehow they don't know Red Bank, I'll say, "It's near the beach." Because "the beach" has always been a great source of geography, even if people end up thinking you live near Belmar when that's like a half hour away. But I digress. I'm from the Jersey Shore through-and-through, grew up spending almost every summer Saturday at Sandy Hook (lost my second tooth there while eating a buttered hard-roll), went to the Point Pleasant Boardwalk with my cousins and grandparents every summer, grew up learning backroads to avoid the WEBS/BENNIES on weekends. I love visiting my parents for the smell of salt air from the Navesink River, enjoy crabbing off my dad's boat in the Manasquan (with just a dropline and a net – talent, people. I has it) and feel some sense of pride in knowing where Bruce Springsteen used to live and where he lives now. THAT'S the "Jersey Shore" to me.
See. That's where it is. Now you know.
I am also half Sicilian...and somehow don't have a proclivity for wrapping people across the head, having people whacked or calling tomato sauce "gravy" (it's sauce in my house, just to FYI). Add this to the fact that I'm 100 percent from New Jersey and… I do not look or act like anything you see on TV when reality people allegedly share these attributes with me. I try not to think about that too much because it's supposed to be for entertainment purposes, and if you're ignorant enough to believe an ENTIRE STATE behaves/looks a certain way, that's on you, not me. Still, it's exhausting having to stop yourself from rolling your eyes anytime someone assumes you're going to have an "OHMYGAWWWD" accent or be really into techno music. The coming of Jersey Shore kind of amped that up.
I watched the first few episodes, just to be horrified, found bits of it funny, and then quickly got bored with it. Unfortunately, however, my job has kept me in-tune with all their doings, hence why I didn't have to fact check Snooki and JWoww's full names when I typed them earlier. Anyway, When I'd heard Hoboken had refused to allow this spin-off to shoot, I laughed. (Especially at the people who cheered the decision, but derided the killing of Hoboken St Patrick's Day. Because what's really the difference between that kind of debauchery and what goes on on Jersey Shore? Exactly. And I haven't heard of any Jersey Shore housemates throwing beer bottles at firefighters, so there's that.)
But now? They're shooting in my town. Not even just in Jersey City, nay, my neighborhood. Like, six blocks from where I live. So now I have yet another stereotype to live up to "Oh, you live in Jersey City! Do you GTL, LOLZ?" I do fear my eyeballs will get stuck in the back of my head at some point.
Don't get me wrong, it's kind of awesome to see your area on television. I was excited about knowing HGTV's Kitchen Cousins was based out of Jersey City Heights (unless you want to believe it's Hoboken, as the establishing shots seem to want you to think), since it's a home renovation show with little time for "Can you believe those crazy Jersey Italians?!"-style drama. But a Jersey Shore spin-off is going to be way, way, way more watched, which leads me to my biggest concern, outside of tiresome outrageous stereotyping: people realizing Downtown Jersey City exists, is actually kind of nice, and moving here. No, really. It took me years to be able to afford to live on my own in my "cheap" neighborhood on my editor's salary (we don't make a lot of money, despite what you've been conditioned to see in every chick-lit book-turned-movie), and I'm one big rent increase away from being SOL in that department. Making people aware of the city, where landlords are already starting to get a little cray-cray in the rent prices department ($1,900 for a studio may be affordable in Manhattan, but here? When it's a basement? That probably flooded during Hurricane Irene? Ridiculous.) is not going to help me much.
Plus, I like how it's quiet and not really looked at as a "party town." I love Hoboken, I do miss all the amenities it afforded for the five years I lived there, but living around a steady-stream of 20 somethings with entitlement issues is its own sort of exhausting. And that was before all the Cake Boss tourists. I want my current neighborhood to stay under the radar and "uncool", even if it means there's only one Dunkin' Donuts and one Starbucks serving the whole area (perish the thought).
So, yes, ironically enough, what I fear most about Snooki and JWoww's arrival is gentrification, and thus getting pushed out of my happy existence as a result. I guess time will tell, but yeah, I'm a little worried.
Though I guess it could be truly worse. It could be the Kardashians.
When I tell people where I'm from, I usually say, "Middletown, New Jersey." When they don't get that (or any Kevin Smith references), I say "It's near Red Bank" because the once semi-plain Jane town I grew up near is now all hoity-toity, complete with a Tiffany's, and cityfolk actually go there to walk around with a Starbucks in their hands and a "The suburbs ain't so bad" gleam in their eyes on the weekends. But if somehow they don't know Red Bank, I'll say, "It's near the beach." Because "the beach" has always been a great source of geography, even if people end up thinking you live near Belmar when that's like a half hour away. But I digress. I'm from the Jersey Shore through-and-through, grew up spending almost every summer Saturday at Sandy Hook (lost my second tooth there while eating a buttered hard-roll), went to the Point Pleasant Boardwalk with my cousins and grandparents every summer, grew up learning backroads to avoid the WEBS/BENNIES on weekends. I love visiting my parents for the smell of salt air from the Navesink River, enjoy crabbing off my dad's boat in the Manasquan (with just a dropline and a net – talent, people. I has it) and feel some sense of pride in knowing where Bruce Springsteen used to live and where he lives now. THAT'S the "Jersey Shore" to me.
See. That's where it is. Now you know.
I am also half Sicilian...and somehow don't have a proclivity for wrapping people across the head, having people whacked or calling tomato sauce "gravy" (it's sauce in my house, just to FYI). Add this to the fact that I'm 100 percent from New Jersey and… I do not look or act like anything you see on TV when reality people allegedly share these attributes with me. I try not to think about that too much because it's supposed to be for entertainment purposes, and if you're ignorant enough to believe an ENTIRE STATE behaves/looks a certain way, that's on you, not me. Still, it's exhausting having to stop yourself from rolling your eyes anytime someone assumes you're going to have an "OHMYGAWWWD" accent or be really into techno music. The coming of Jersey Shore kind of amped that up.
I watched the first few episodes, just to be horrified, found bits of it funny, and then quickly got bored with it. Unfortunately, however, my job has kept me in-tune with all their doings, hence why I didn't have to fact check Snooki and JWoww's full names when I typed them earlier. Anyway, When I'd heard Hoboken had refused to allow this spin-off to shoot, I laughed. (Especially at the people who cheered the decision, but derided the killing of Hoboken St Patrick's Day. Because what's really the difference between that kind of debauchery and what goes on on Jersey Shore? Exactly. And I haven't heard of any Jersey Shore housemates throwing beer bottles at firefighters, so there's that.)
But now? They're shooting in my town. Not even just in Jersey City, nay, my neighborhood. Like, six blocks from where I live. So now I have yet another stereotype to live up to "Oh, you live in Jersey City! Do you GTL, LOLZ?" I do fear my eyeballs will get stuck in the back of my head at some point.
Don't get me wrong, it's kind of awesome to see your area on television. I was excited about knowing HGTV's Kitchen Cousins was based out of Jersey City Heights (unless you want to believe it's Hoboken, as the establishing shots seem to want you to think), since it's a home renovation show with little time for "Can you believe those crazy Jersey Italians?!"-style drama. But a Jersey Shore spin-off is going to be way, way, way more watched, which leads me to my biggest concern, outside of tiresome outrageous stereotyping: people realizing Downtown Jersey City exists, is actually kind of nice, and moving here. No, really. It took me years to be able to afford to live on my own in my "cheap" neighborhood on my editor's salary (we don't make a lot of money, despite what you've been conditioned to see in every chick-lit book-turned-movie), and I'm one big rent increase away from being SOL in that department. Making people aware of the city, where landlords are already starting to get a little cray-cray in the rent prices department ($1,900 for a studio may be affordable in Manhattan, but here? When it's a basement? That probably flooded during Hurricane Irene? Ridiculous.) is not going to help me much.
Plus, I like how it's quiet and not really looked at as a "party town." I love Hoboken, I do miss all the amenities it afforded for the five years I lived there, but living around a steady-stream of 20 somethings with entitlement issues is its own sort of exhausting. And that was before all the Cake Boss tourists. I want my current neighborhood to stay under the radar and "uncool", even if it means there's only one Dunkin' Donuts and one Starbucks serving the whole area (perish the thought).
So, yes, ironically enough, what I fear most about Snooki and JWoww's arrival is gentrification, and thus getting pushed out of my happy existence as a result. I guess time will tell, but yeah, I'm a little worried.
Though I guess it could be truly worse. It could be the Kardashians.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Only a Parade and a Million People Stood Between Me and Work Today
Normally, crowds in NYC - or anywhere, for that matter - make me run the other way. But since I am a sports fan, and since I like big, happy occassions, I decided to voluntarily cross through the fray that is the Giants' Super Bowl victory parade to get to my office, rather than go the easier route of the subway. I knew what I was getting myself into - I hiked all the way up from Delaware to go to the Yankees' parade in 1998, so, yes, I was prepared for the insanity. Luckily, it was two hours before parade time, so it wasn't quite that nuts yet, but when it takes me five times as long to walk a mere block, it might have something to do with the city's population increasing slightly.
For the record, when I get off the PATH, I ALWAYS avoid the walkway that is Vesey Street between Church and West Broadway, because it's a crapload of people funneled into one small space, all walking slow when I like to walk…not slow. And then they literally keep you chained in from crossing the street against the light, because I guess people have hurt themselves doing this (not surprising). But today, I figured, "What the hey?" even though it was going to be like ten times the people. And this is what I got:
Then, when I could actually walk further, I couldn't turn left, for, oh, the entire tip of lower Manhattan, but I did get to loop through parade lines and see the following:
All in all it wasn't so, so bad. Everyone was merry (the two guys in Giants jerseys freaking out about this tiny guy's pompadour...and calling him "Afro!!!" and then pulling him aside to talk about his hair was maybe the randomly awesomest thing I saw) and the cops were good about letting people through barricades if they had to get across Broadway to, you know, get to work. Although I did have to wait for this truck to pass before I could go, which is definitely a departure from a normal work day:
You can bet, however, if it were a Yankees parade, I'd have claimed there was no possible way to get to work, and ohmygosh, I'm just going to have to stay here till it's over. Priorities.
For the record, when I get off the PATH, I ALWAYS avoid the walkway that is Vesey Street between Church and West Broadway, because it's a crapload of people funneled into one small space, all walking slow when I like to walk…not slow. And then they literally keep you chained in from crossing the street against the light, because I guess people have hurt themselves doing this (not surprising). But today, I figured, "What the hey?" even though it was going to be like ten times the people. And this is what I got:
Then, when I could actually walk further, I couldn't turn left, for, oh, the entire tip of lower Manhattan, but I did get to loop through parade lines and see the following:
All in all it wasn't so, so bad. Everyone was merry (the two guys in Giants jerseys freaking out about this tiny guy's pompadour...and calling him "Afro!!!" and then pulling him aside to talk about his hair was maybe the randomly awesomest thing I saw) and the cops were good about letting people through barricades if they had to get across Broadway to, you know, get to work. Although I did have to wait for this truck to pass before I could go, which is definitely a departure from a normal work day:
You can bet, however, if it were a Yankees parade, I'd have claimed there was no possible way to get to work, and ohmygosh, I'm just going to have to stay here till it's over. Priorities.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Ca-Ching! Ba-Gock! Etc.
The Yankee Chicken takes a break from counting his
Quote of the Other Day
"I wouldn't send my kids to boarding school...unless it was Hogwarts." - Ken
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Ode to (Giants Influenced) Joy
I don't even consider myself a Giants fan (I do not invest enough interest in the team to ever have the word "fanatic" applied to me. Wish more people felt that way about their Yankees "fandom." Ahem), but, my god, the last minute of that game may have taken about five years off my life. I don't think I breathed during the last New England possession. Maybe it takes a certain mindset to get swept up in a game like that, but I do feel sorry for people who don't get to experience that burst of crazy feeling. It's not quite unadulterated joy for me, like when the Yankees win (and I rock back and forth on the couch and do things like clean to burn off nervous energy), but it is a nice level of joy just the same.
What's even better is when you're in the area where the hometown team wins. I was in Hoboken, current home of Eli Manning, this evening, and as my friend Rachel and I made our way toward Washington Street, the sounds of cheering and car honking got louder and louder. Like so, and this was roughly a half hour after the game ended (my favorite part is the taxi with the flashing interior blue lights - he was beeping his horn rhythmically and waving to everyone, like he was in a a parade):
And this doesn't even do it justice. There were so many flag-bedecked cars driving by with people in Giants jerseys cheering as they hung out the window. People were randomly high-fiving each other on the street, and calling to each other from opposite sidewalks with "wooooooo"s. "Let's Go Giants" was pretty much the only thing I heard between this street corner and the PATH station. And when I got there, this PATH conductor was coming up the stairs smiling, all, "Ain't no doubt who won."
It reminded me of when Italy won the World Cup all those years ago, except, you know, with a team I actually somewhat care about.
Anyway, I also won the first two quarters of my office pool on a 0 and 9, so YEAHHHHHHH, BITCHEZ. Good night, indeed.
What's even better is when you're in the area where the hometown team wins. I was in Hoboken, current home of Eli Manning, this evening, and as my friend Rachel and I made our way toward Washington Street, the sounds of cheering and car honking got louder and louder. Like so, and this was roughly a half hour after the game ended (my favorite part is the taxi with the flashing interior blue lights - he was beeping his horn rhythmically and waving to everyone, like he was in a a parade):
And this doesn't even do it justice. There were so many flag-bedecked cars driving by with people in Giants jerseys cheering as they hung out the window. People were randomly high-fiving each other on the street, and calling to each other from opposite sidewalks with "wooooooo"s. "Let's Go Giants" was pretty much the only thing I heard between this street corner and the PATH station. And when I got there, this PATH conductor was coming up the stairs smiling, all, "Ain't no doubt who won."
It reminded me of when Italy won the World Cup all those years ago, except, you know, with a team I actually somewhat care about.
Anyway, I also won the first two quarters of my office pool on a 0 and 9, so YEAHHHHHHH, BITCHEZ. Good night, indeed.
In Which I Horrify Lots of People
So, today, at the risk of incurring the wrath and pearl-clutching of my editorial-minded friends on Facebook (and, having been an English major and working in publishing for 13 years, let's just say I have a lot of them), I let it be known my displeasure with a certain few grammar lists of do's and don'ts going around right now, lists that imply "stupidity" on the part of anyone who makes mistakes, like the wrong usage of "Its vs. It's" "You're vs. Your," "Could HAVE vs. Could OF" in their Facebook statuses.
As a copy editor, these are things I'm paid every day to find in editorial copy. If I see errors like that in a published work, something someone got paid for to write/edit? Why, yes, I might sigh a little (but not too much, as being a copy editor has taught me that EVERYONE makes mistakes and no one is above them). But in a Facebook status? Nyet. Not gonna ruin my day. Why? Well, I have several theories, and all of them stem from this sort of thing being my day job, which I guess is ironic and I should be more upset about it, but there you go.
Being a copy editor is like being in a constant grammatical war. Every day, I find things that go beyond it's vs. its and you're vs. your (which, sidebar, are mistakes I've made in my own statuses, not because I don't know any better, but because I was rushing through my status, or tired, or my attention was divided. This, however, does not make me stupid). Things that could ruin my magazine's reputation (egregious factual errors), or have publicists sicced on us (misspelled names on exclusive interviews). I've seen people fired over Big Deals like this, and it's horrible, because you can catch a million errors as a copy editor, but the one thing you don't catch, it's your head on a spike. And it's not going to be for a celebrity saying, "I could care less" in an interview and me not fixing it to "couldn't care less." So the weight of these types of errors kind of makes me like "whatever" when I see someone using the wrong "your" on Facebook.
Also, when I'm editing a story, and I come across a rogue "loose" when the writer means "lose", I don't sit there and think to myself, "God, this person is ridiculous", even if they have more than a few errors. Because, in my case, I know these people are pressed for time, are writing several things at once. And, mostly because it is my job to fix their mistakes, not judge them for making them in the first place. Another reason I can't get bent out of shape for poor grammar in a Facebook status: I'm not being paid to care about that, and I like leaving my work at work.
Also, I'm a copy editor. I say this yet again to point out why I went into this field: Because reading has been my strong suit from an early age. I could've majored in finance...and flunked out of college, such is my lifelong struggle with mathematics. I'm useless when it comes to chemistry, so I won't be finding us a cure for cancer. I took six years of Spanish and could barely get by when trying to converse with a maintenance worker who showed up at my press-trip villa in Mexico. I don't have the right personality to become a good nurse or caregiver. I'm too selfish with my life to ever want to be a cop or a firefighter. I have my own failings, and it's just by chance that social media revolves around the usage or words and not, say, figuring out fractions (I'd be so f***ed if that were the case, you guys), so I don't look foolish to the 294 people who follow me (unless they hate the Yankees or HGTV, of course).
Finally, while there are some Facebook friends I haven't seen in years, I have a special affection for each and every one of them in some way. I don't "friend" people I actively dislike. So if someone's tragic flaw is not knowing the difference between "their" and "there", I'm not gonna hate on them for it. Their misuse of a word isn't going to bring down the economy or start a tsunami or kill a puppy or make the Yankees lose the World Series. And they're not "stupid" for doing this.
Having said all this, I think I do understand the level of frustration my friends are feeling when they post these lists. A lot of it is the fact that these are things we're ALL taught when we're young, stuff that's hammered into us from kindergarten through senior year of high school at the most basic level. And you know there may be people who "matter" out in the real world who judge you on these sorts of things. But in my own case, I know why I became a grammarian: Because of my love of reading. Which stemmed from parents who read to me and encouraged me to read more from a young age. Which helped me really and truly figure out how to master the English language. Ideally, more parents would be encouraging with books, but for whatever reason, it may not be the case with everyone out there. I don't know everyone's story and therefore, I don't want to get annoyed with anyone because of that.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get my W2s together because I'm going to H&R Block this week to get my taxes done, because my horrible, awful no-good math skills make taxes intimidating for me. If my accountant makes a mistake that gets me audited? I'm gonna be pissssssssed. But if she uses "e.g." when she means "i.e.", yeah, not a deal breaker.
We all have our strong suits.
As a copy editor, these are things I'm paid every day to find in editorial copy. If I see errors like that in a published work, something someone got paid for to write/edit? Why, yes, I might sigh a little (but not too much, as being a copy editor has taught me that EVERYONE makes mistakes and no one is above them). But in a Facebook status? Nyet. Not gonna ruin my day. Why? Well, I have several theories, and all of them stem from this sort of thing being my day job, which I guess is ironic and I should be more upset about it, but there you go.
Being a copy editor is like being in a constant grammatical war. Every day, I find things that go beyond it's vs. its and you're vs. your (which, sidebar, are mistakes I've made in my own statuses, not because I don't know any better, but because I was rushing through my status, or tired, or my attention was divided. This, however, does not make me stupid). Things that could ruin my magazine's reputation (egregious factual errors), or have publicists sicced on us (misspelled names on exclusive interviews). I've seen people fired over Big Deals like this, and it's horrible, because you can catch a million errors as a copy editor, but the one thing you don't catch, it's your head on a spike. And it's not going to be for a celebrity saying, "I could care less" in an interview and me not fixing it to "couldn't care less." So the weight of these types of errors kind of makes me like "whatever" when I see someone using the wrong "your" on Facebook.
Also, when I'm editing a story, and I come across a rogue "loose" when the writer means "lose", I don't sit there and think to myself, "God, this person is ridiculous", even if they have more than a few errors. Because, in my case, I know these people are pressed for time, are writing several things at once. And, mostly because it is my job to fix their mistakes, not judge them for making them in the first place. Another reason I can't get bent out of shape for poor grammar in a Facebook status: I'm not being paid to care about that, and I like leaving my work at work.
Also, I'm a copy editor. I say this yet again to point out why I went into this field: Because reading has been my strong suit from an early age. I could've majored in finance...and flunked out of college, such is my lifelong struggle with mathematics. I'm useless when it comes to chemistry, so I won't be finding us a cure for cancer. I took six years of Spanish and could barely get by when trying to converse with a maintenance worker who showed up at my press-trip villa in Mexico. I don't have the right personality to become a good nurse or caregiver. I'm too selfish with my life to ever want to be a cop or a firefighter. I have my own failings, and it's just by chance that social media revolves around the usage or words and not, say, figuring out fractions (I'd be so f***ed if that were the case, you guys), so I don't look foolish to the 294 people who follow me (unless they hate the Yankees or HGTV, of course).
Finally, while there are some Facebook friends I haven't seen in years, I have a special affection for each and every one of them in some way. I don't "friend" people I actively dislike. So if someone's tragic flaw is not knowing the difference between "their" and "there", I'm not gonna hate on them for it. Their misuse of a word isn't going to bring down the economy or start a tsunami or kill a puppy or make the Yankees lose the World Series. And they're not "stupid" for doing this.
Having said all this, I think I do understand the level of frustration my friends are feeling when they post these lists. A lot of it is the fact that these are things we're ALL taught when we're young, stuff that's hammered into us from kindergarten through senior year of high school at the most basic level. And you know there may be people who "matter" out in the real world who judge you on these sorts of things. But in my own case, I know why I became a grammarian: Because of my love of reading. Which stemmed from parents who read to me and encouraged me to read more from a young age. Which helped me really and truly figure out how to master the English language. Ideally, more parents would be encouraging with books, but for whatever reason, it may not be the case with everyone out there. I don't know everyone's story and therefore, I don't want to get annoyed with anyone because of that.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get my W2s together because I'm going to H&R Block this week to get my taxes done, because my horrible, awful no-good math skills make taxes intimidating for me. If my accountant makes a mistake that gets me audited? I'm gonna be pissssssssed. But if she uses "e.g." when she means "i.e.", yeah, not a deal breaker.
We all have our strong suits.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Having to Touch the Subway Pole After Some Guy's Butt Was Just On It - I'm Living the High Life, Man
Okay, so, I don't really like to talk politics on this blog because I have my issues with all involved on the subject and it would just get really depressing over here. But after seeing this quote from Gingrich last week...
“Those who, you know, live in high-rise apartment buildings writing for fancy newspapers in the middle of town after they ride the metro, who don’t understand that for most Americans the ability to buy a home, to have their own property, to have a sense of belonging is one of the greatest achievements of their life, and it makes them feel like they are good solid citizens."
...followed by reports today that he reiterated the whole "elitists ride the subway" spiel to a crowd in Vegas, well, I think I have to comment on the subject.
First off, before I even get started on the subway part, let me fully disclose that I work in the media. It's not a "fancy newspaper" and it does not pay very well. At all. Hence why I live in an older-than-dirt walkup in Jersey City. My friends who have worked at newspapers? Generally make less than I do. They're forced to take furloughs so their places of employment can stay afloat. And, lest anyone forget, newspapers are in trouble across the board, so I HIGHLY doubt employees outside of the really, really high-up positions, be it "fancy" or "not fancy" paper, is making quite enough money to be considered "elite." Or whatever the buzzword is these days.
Now, for the subway. Being the living-paycheck-to-paycheck person I am, I cannot afford a car service. I don't indulge in taxis very often. I can't justify the $6.50 one-way ticket on the ferry more than a few times a year. So I take the PATH, which is the NJ equivalent of the subway, into Manhattan, where I catch the carriages of wealth known as the 1,2,3 or R train to my place of employment, all for $2.50 per ride. On the trains, well, it's mostly budget-minded tourists from all over Europe and...oh, hey, middle Americans! The exact contingent he thinks he's pandering to with these comments...riding down to see the World Trade Center site, Wall Street or the Statue of Liberty. But aside from them? It's me, the other people who can't afford to take taxis to work, the crazy people, the homeless people, the crazy homeless people, and if you're lucky, the kids selling candy at jacked-up prices for their "basketball team." (And sometimes, awesomely, the hustling 12-year-olds dancing to Michael Jackson for money, who are by far my favorite subway act of the moment. But I digress). And if I catch it at the right time? Well, picture all these tourists and NYC natives smashed together, body to body, in a symphony known as Rush Hour, or This Model of Elitism Breaks Down All the Time and Therefore May Be Delayed and Thus Overcrowded.
And lest THAT not prove my point, let me tell you about my ride the other day, on a non-crowded train, when I took a seat in an empty row and, as I waited the five minutes or so before the train actually moved, noticed the smell of urine. And realized that these seats were probably some homeless person's bed last night and left their scent behind. Or some guy passed out after drinking with his co-workers and soiled himself. Or some kid wasn't exactly toilet trained yet. And then I had to worry if my coat was now going to smell like piss. The lap of luxury, I tell you.
ALSO. AHEM. I would LOVE to own my own home, but I CAN'T AFFORD TO. What's that? I live outside Manhattan? I work in the media? I ride the subway to work? In blanket statement world I SHOULD be able to afford a home? Well, then, talk to most of my friends who also work in media and would never, ever in a million trillion years be able to afford a down payment because they're too busy trying to make ends meet. You don't have to be from Nebraska or Alabama or Whoever We're Pandering To Now, USA, to feel completely terrible sometimes to know you probably won't get to experience "one of the greatest achievements" of your life. And that f***ing sucks.
So, Newt, you can say what you want about the other candidates, but when you make a comment so ridiculously out of touch about myself and many other people I know, be they high-rise dwelling or basement-apartment renting or living again with Mom and Dad because their newspaper laid off half its staff, well, you're never getting my vote. Oh, hell no.
“Those who, you know, live in high-rise apartment buildings writing for fancy newspapers in the middle of town after they ride the metro, who don’t understand that for most Americans the ability to buy a home, to have their own property, to have a sense of belonging is one of the greatest achievements of their life, and it makes them feel like they are good solid citizens."
...followed by reports today that he reiterated the whole "elitists ride the subway" spiel to a crowd in Vegas, well, I think I have to comment on the subject.
First off, before I even get started on the subway part, let me fully disclose that I work in the media. It's not a "fancy newspaper" and it does not pay very well. At all. Hence why I live in an older-than-dirt walkup in Jersey City. My friends who have worked at newspapers? Generally make less than I do. They're forced to take furloughs so their places of employment can stay afloat. And, lest anyone forget, newspapers are in trouble across the board, so I HIGHLY doubt employees outside of the really, really high-up positions, be it "fancy" or "not fancy" paper, is making quite enough money to be considered "elite." Or whatever the buzzword is these days.
Now, for the subway. Being the living-paycheck-to-paycheck person I am, I cannot afford a car service. I don't indulge in taxis very often. I can't justify the $6.50 one-way ticket on the ferry more than a few times a year. So I take the PATH, which is the NJ equivalent of the subway, into Manhattan, where I catch the carriages of wealth known as the 1,2,3 or R train to my place of employment, all for $2.50 per ride. On the trains, well, it's mostly budget-minded tourists from all over Europe and...oh, hey, middle Americans! The exact contingent he thinks he's pandering to with these comments...riding down to see the World Trade Center site, Wall Street or the Statue of Liberty. But aside from them? It's me, the other people who can't afford to take taxis to work, the crazy people, the homeless people, the crazy homeless people, and if you're lucky, the kids selling candy at jacked-up prices for their "basketball team." (And sometimes, awesomely, the hustling 12-year-olds dancing to Michael Jackson for money, who are by far my favorite subway act of the moment. But I digress). And if I catch it at the right time? Well, picture all these tourists and NYC natives smashed together, body to body, in a symphony known as Rush Hour, or This Model of Elitism Breaks Down All the Time and Therefore May Be Delayed and Thus Overcrowded.
And lest THAT not prove my point, let me tell you about my ride the other day, on a non-crowded train, when I took a seat in an empty row and, as I waited the five minutes or so before the train actually moved, noticed the smell of urine. And realized that these seats were probably some homeless person's bed last night and left their scent behind. Or some guy passed out after drinking with his co-workers and soiled himself. Or some kid wasn't exactly toilet trained yet. And then I had to worry if my coat was now going to smell like piss. The lap of luxury, I tell you.
ALSO. AHEM. I would LOVE to own my own home, but I CAN'T AFFORD TO. What's that? I live outside Manhattan? I work in the media? I ride the subway to work? In blanket statement world I SHOULD be able to afford a home? Well, then, talk to most of my friends who also work in media and would never, ever in a million trillion years be able to afford a down payment because they're too busy trying to make ends meet. You don't have to be from Nebraska or Alabama or Whoever We're Pandering To Now, USA, to feel completely terrible sometimes to know you probably won't get to experience "one of the greatest achievements" of your life. And that f***ing sucks.
So, Newt, you can say what you want about the other candidates, but when you make a comment so ridiculously out of touch about myself and many other people I know, be they high-rise dwelling or basement-apartment renting or living again with Mom and Dad because their newspaper laid off half its staff, well, you're never getting my vote. Oh, hell no.
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