I had a hell of a morning. I left the house at 8:30 leaving myself plenty of time to get to Midtown and take a Post picture. I got on the L Train almost immediately. I was in the second to the last car.

About five feet out of the Graham Avenue stop station, someone vomited all over the middle of the car. The New York thing to do in that situation was to move away from said person as quickly as possible, which everyone did. I was reading Bastard out of Carolina when the smell hit me and if the odor hadn’t been so unbelievably disgusting, I probably wouldn’t have noticed since that book is so devastating on its own.

People moved cars at Lorimer. Some moved in-between cars, others moved when we hit the station. And still others, like me, decided to stick our faces deep into the crack of our newspapers and books. Since there was so much smelly vomit, the train car I was in was almost empty; something that one rarely sees on the morning L Train.

At Lorimer, the vomiting person got off the train and a person getting on then stepped in it. And I gagged.

We pulled out of the station. About halfway between Lorimer and Bedford, our train came to screeching stop. We stayed there for a while. Our conductor kept saying, “We’re stopped here due to a police investigation at Lorimer”. Considering Lorimer was behind us at the time, I was confused, but whatever.

We sat there for a long while and then eventually the train lunged forward. Our conductor told us we’d stay at Bedford Avenue until further notice.

And yours truly forgot her cell phone today. I had one quarter. I tried calling Tobyjoe from the platform. Rang forever. No answer. Trying to get the most out of my quarter, I hung up before his voicemail picked up. I called back. At this point a line was forming behind me. Everyone needed to use the phone. The Bedford stop now had two trains parked within its station. The conductor kept repeating the same message, “Police Investigation. Blah Blah.” I couldn’t get Tobyjoe on the phone and in the end I lost the quarter. I didn’t even get to leave a message.

People were milling about all over Bedford Avenue. I heard one woman call into a potential employer about being late for an interview. She had a portfolio with her. Another woman waited with her daughter, trying to hail a cab or a car service, neither was anywhere to be found.

I figured the G Train would be running. I could take it into Long Island City and then hit the 7 Train. But someone told me that the entire Lorimer Street station was shut down, HAZMAT trucks and fire trucks were there, so were the police. “It was a mess,” he had said.

I don’t know what’s going on. But if anyone is going to know the story as it unfolds, it’s going to be Gothamist who is currently reporting that things are now up and running while NY1 is saying it’s still down after they found a suspicious package. Apparently service has been restored entirely. Either way, I’ll bet you a hundred bucks we’re never given a full explanation.

Me? I eventually got on the B61 and hit the 7 Train. I got to work before 10 but the entire ordeal took 1.5 hours.

I have often joked about the ways in which I might finally meet my demise. Cancer? A falling air conditioner? But I’m really starting to believe the L Train will eventually claim me. I need to break up with the L Train.

Edited to add: In the end, the word is someone sprayed a Brooklyn bound train with pepper spray. (Probably kids.) The reason everyone freaked out was because people kept getting off the train, therefore folks thought it was a widespread sort of event. So, the guy on my train, the one who puked, was just some sick guy. The other people? They were hit with pepper spray. That’s what they’re saying at least.

Robert, Tobyjoe, and Ashley, all supernerds who work for the Barbarian Group, finished up a huge display for Saturn yesterday. It’s a part of Wired’s NextFest taking place in New York City this week. You can check out some photos of the booth here. It’s really beautiful. I can’t wait to see it big and in person.

If you find yourself at NextFest, be sure to look for the guy wearing his pass like this:

That’s Robert. Also, you should all tell my husband how freaking amazing and brilliant he is.

This image cracked me up.

It’s days like this one when I wish I had tens of thousands of visitors to this Web site each and every day. Not because I want to talk about my life and have people tell me how great I am but because I wish I could get more eyes and ears to see this video.

Very few people move me with their political speeches and/or views especially on the TV machine. But Keith Olbermann actually gives me chills.

We had a conversation on the back deck overlooking a great big lake surrounded by southern firs and humidity. The sun, as if shy from what it had done the night before, was just starting to show itself again. It was Thursday, the 5th day of our vacation. I was up before 7 AM, a feat I find impossible during the workweek. I had woken to the sound of crickets and frogs just like I had every other morning. But on Thursday it was different; it had rained the night before so their chorus was much more robust, the soundtrack to happiness.

“So, where do you want to move?” He broke our silence.

“That’s funny, I was just thinking about going back to New York.”

“Yeah?” He sipped his coffee.

“Pretty soon, the sound we hear now will be replaced by horns, sirens, and inaudible subway announcements. I love New York City but…” I stopped talking.

“I know.”

“The longer you’re away from it, the more you begin to realize that it’s kind of bullshit.”

“Yeah.”

The sun was just about ready. And our vacation neared its end. My skin still smelled like chlorine from the swim we had the night before. Probably the sheets did as well. A boat horn sounded in the distance.

“Yeah.”

I have said it before and I’ll say it again, I really miss President Clinton.

Edited to add: Keith Olbermann discusses Clinton interview.

This is one of my favorite shots from the series thus far.

See all of them here.

If you’ve been reading this here Web site for a few years, you’re probably very aware of how I feel about the Segway. You’re probably so aware of how I feel about the Segway, you’re probably sick of hearing me say it. Seriously, I have had several not so pleasant run-ins with Segway owners (see the link above). I also ran into a guy riding one through downtown Washington, DC.

Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. “But the Segways are really great for the environment! If everyone drove one of them to work, we’d all be a lot better off!” Sure, they’re great for Mother Earth but they’re still ugly. It’s like adorning Mother Earth in the type of bling you purchase from one of those shops with gold in the front and porn in the back. Also, haven’t you ever heard of aesthetic pollution? Plus, everyone knows that when a collective whole does something all at once, things fall apart. Remember that bumper sticker that posed one of the greatest unanswered questions of the 1990s? What if everyone farted at once?

If everyone drove a Segway to work, we’d never get anywhere. I’ve seen the collective whole try and walk around using umbrellas.

Anyway, I’ve veered way off track (not entirely unlike the new problem hitting the Segway). Let me try and segue this post back to my original point. The douchebag population of the world (Not the douchebags who block the subway doors, or the ones who buy a 5,000 dollar car and add 10,000 dollars worth of rims, the other douchebags.) has to bring their douchebag machines back to the douchebag dealership because they’re being recalled. Owners must bring them in and install free software because several of them have malfunctioned and a few of their drivers fell down and broke their face.

Now, wouldn’t you agree that it’s a good thing everyone isn’t driving the Segway to work?

We’re leaving on Saturday. For a week we’ll be spending our days near a pool and a great big lake, surrounded by giant Florida bugs and 90-degree weather. (100+ if you count the humidity.) I’ll be wearing a bathing suit. A lot.

The last time I visited the salon, I asked the woman to “clean up the bikini line.” I was heading to Rhode Island in three days and I wanted to look less like a female bear and more like a skinned potato. There are few things more humiliating than being lectured by a woman holding hot wax above your pantless body.

“Did you shave?!”

“Yes. I thought I was supposed to for upkeep.”

“You not supposed to shave.” She said in broken English. “Very bad. Ingrown hairs. This will take time. I see many.”

We had already been through the whole wax, place, pat, and tear so ever pore was standing upright and screaming. But that didn’t stop her from pulling out the tweezers. And I sat there for another 15 minutes while she plucked. I thought for every hair, “I’m paying for this?” And then I thought, “I will never do this again.”

It hurt, people. I have tattoos and some body piercing and this bloody hurt.

Well, bathing suit time is upon us again. And I’d like to avoid having small children mistakenly think I have Chip or Dale tucked into my bathing suit bottoms. I simply must do something about this.

Here’s the deal. Because of the whole DO NOT shave lecture I got from her the last time and the fact that I’m neurotic about this sort of thing, I haven’t shaved since I visited her the last time. (I’m not a particularly hairy person, so it’s not that bad. It’s bad but not that bad.)

Is there such thing as too much hair for the public waxing establishment? Should I take a Flowbee to it first? Can I walk in there, drop my pants, and not get another lecture? I’m supposed to do this tonight.

There is a story behind this picture, which I am in the process of writing.

One year after September 11th, 2001, Salon published a rather controversial article called Forbidden Thoughts and Forbidden Letters where people anonymously wrote in and shared their thoughts no matter how bad they seemed. Some thoughts seemed so very harsh, others were disturbingly callous, and still others were bizarrely comical. That publication has stuck with me to this day. I remember reading through some of the letters and realizing that my own thoughts, as irrational as they might have seemed at the time, couldn’t have been all that bad. A few people felt that some of the victims deserved to die. Some worried only about the rescue dogs. I found the paper and ash floating up Broadway beautiful.

So, I guess that’s my question, you may answer it if you wish. Please change your name if you do. Anonymity is fine. What did you think when you heard the news? Where were you at the time? Did you have a thought that made you cringe?

_ Anything goes today, my friends. Anything._

Tobyjoe is leaving for Boston today. He’s heading up there to attend a Ruby on Rails class. And I’m stuck here all by myself.

My soccer league starts tomorrow and although my team doesn’t yet have a name, and our game is all the way up in Foreverawayville (138th Street), I’m looking forward to trying something new. I tried running more than 3 miles twice last week and it didn’t go over too well. I can walk downstairs again without noticing a stitch of knee pain so I figured things were getting better but my IT band is still tighter than ever. I’m going to have to get physical therapy if I want to continue running longer distances. This fact thoroughly bums me out.

But soccer will be fun even though the shoes I bought are a litle space-agey and weird. We’re playing on turf, which means we can’t wear real cleats. Instead, we were told to pick up indoor soccer shoes, or shoes made for turf. I got the pair made for turf. And I wasn’t given any choice in the matter. There were literally no other soccer shoes to choose from. (There are slim pickings for women when it comes to soccer shoes. I’m not sure what’s more frustrating, the fact that there might be too little demand or the fact that there’s just too little supply.)

We made homemade ravioli last night. We rolled out the dough using our Imperia Pasta maker. We tried this once before using whole wheat flour and that didn’t quite turn out the way we wanted. But last night’s adventure was much more rewarding.

Tobyjoe made the stuffing while I prepared the dough. The last time we did this, the noodles were too thick because we couldn’t roll the dough out thin enough without it falling apart. The ratio of pasta to filling was off, plus, they just didn’t taste like typical ravioli.

The noodles were perfect last night. I used white flour and eggs to make the dough. They stayed together perfectly when we boiled them. Raw pasta is realy quite tough especially with a little egg wash.

I also made an apple, cranberry, walnut crunch cobbler. I have attempted an apple cobbler for the past three weekends. Each time it turned out well but my topping hasn’t been as crunchy as I would have liked. I tried something a little different last night and, behold, it worked. This is the best batch yet. Now that Tobyjoe is leaving, however, I’m going to have to consume quite a lot of cobbler over the next week.

We’re flying next Saturday and I’m already nervous about it. I have already started thinking things like, “Well, how do you want to live your last week on Earth?” (This fear is irrational. I know this. But that doesn’t stop me from thinking in this most absurd way especially when I’m sleepy.) I have enough Xanax to calm a herd of angry elephants so hopefully by the time I get on that plane the only thing I’ll have to worry about is slipping on my own drool.

Immediately following the news about the Crocodile Hunter, a chorus of dramatic comments and stories rode in on a tidal wave of narcissism. Have you ever noticed, that no matter what the news story many bloggers will find whatever way possible to talk about him or herself? We’re so thoughtful and creative and amazing and it’s really a wonder how we’ve managed to do so many great things. Who knew caring so much could be so emotionally draining? Who knew that caring so much could carry with it so many grammatical mistakes?

It’s horrible what happened to all those people involved in the recent Chinatown bus accident in Massachusetts. What a horrible experience those people must have had. I can only begin to imagine how awful it must have felt to fall over like that. I am not a big fan of public busses. I once took a bus from Washington, DC all the way up to New York City. I was trying to save money; otherwise, I would have taken the train. Oh well! Anyway, I was in the middle of Baltimore when we stopped at a depot and a group of men got on. The men were on weekend release from the state penitentiary. First of all, I didn’t know they did such a thing. I mean, you’re in jail, dude. What is WITH this leniency crap? What ever happened to locking that door and throwing away the key? Can you believe that one of those monsters actually sat right next to me? It’s true! He was really smelly. The entire trip he was leaning all over me. I was afraid for my life. He kept trying to talk to me and I kept turning my headphones up louder and louder. At one point I thought he might sexually assault me and since he’s used to prison sex that would have really sucked. It was the worst bus trip I have been on. Plus, he smelled like piss and I’m sure he was a lazy wiper. SO GROSS!

Did you read about the Mexican man who was beaten to death because he was Mexican and the kids who did so wanted to beat up a Mexican? What a sick and horrible story. What is the world coming to? Seriously. I can’t imagine how his wife and children must feel right now. This man worked 100 hour weeks at the International House of Pancakes on Staten Island where he worked his way up from busboy to head chef. Amazing. He was a hard-working family man who did everything he could for his family. Family is so important. Speaking of family, people should really consider strangers family sometimes (unless they are inmates). A few years back I was walking home with Tobyjoe on Christmas Eve when a drunk Polish man came stumbling out of a bar. Two people had run by him, knocking him down. He used a cane to walk. A CANE! The cane went flying, so did his beer. I’m polish. But even if I weren’t polish, I would have helped this old man. I’m like that. Plus, it was Christmas Eve and he was really drunk. Tobyjoe and I picked him up off the pavement. Did I mention that he had beer with him that had exploded when it (and he) hit the street? Tobyjoe and I decided to walk him home. He was really very wobbly but we held him up and walked him home. Not only did we possibly save his life but also we actually gave him our beer to make up for his spilled six-pack. (Merry Christmas, little man!) Also, he said I was pretty. I felt really good about myself for walking such a drunken man home on Christmas Eve and giving him my beer. It’s a good thing we were there.

A study was released recently about the workers who helped clean up after 9/11 and the exceedingly high number of respiratory problems they have. That day was rough. Everyone knows that. I know that. The air was thick with ash and fumes and smoke; God knows what was in the air that day. (Speaking of God, where were you, man? I was there. But where were YOU?) Workers came out from all over to help clean up and now they’re paying the price.

A few weeks ago, Tobyjoe visited our primary care doctor to discuss his breathing, which has gotten exceedingly worse over the years. Mine has as well, but I haven’t gone to the doctor yet. I also have allergies I never had before. I can’t help but wonder if they are related. I may not have helped the cleanup efforts, but I was there that day. I saw the soot. I smelled it from my rooftop. My brother did as well. Tobyjoe was given an inhaler for his asthma. I worry my lungs might follow.

I do hope that these volunteers and workers get the help they need especially since many do not have health insurance. I can imagine that, too, because WE didn’t have health insurance when we lived in San Francisco. Thankfully, we have it now. But back then we lived entirely off Tobyjoe’s salary, paid 1900 dollars in rent, AND drank wine almost every night, but we could not afford our health insurance! Can you believe that? It would have been nice to have especially when that woman accidentally cut into my big toe during a pedicure. What a bummer! Thank goodness we have it now especially since this 9/11 study came out. Yowza, people. Yowza!

I love this great world and its people. I love that I exist to relate to its people. I love that I have a story for every one that you have. I love that I save the world with my words and my blog one post at a time.

mihow.com has been alive for 4.5 years and has a total of 2149 (live) posts.

The word “I” has been used in 1766 of those posts.

I do believe that this photograph might very well be the most distressing photo Tobyjoe has ever taken. I was there at the time and for some reason it’s even worse on film.

Also, there are several more shots up at The New York Post Project. Swing by, kittens.

(Click image.)