You can touch yourself but please don't touch me

To the man on the subway yesterday who felt the need to breathe on my neck, i hope i never run into you again. You smelled bad. Do you ride the #4 train everyday?

Nothing makes you feel more like herded cattle then riding the subways in NYC during rush hour. If there is any remote possibility that somebody can shove themselves onto the train, they're going to do it. This subsequently forces every tired, hungry, agitated rider who just wants to go home and watch Project Runway reruns to be squashed between somebody smelly, and somebody sweaty. It's never that your butt to butt with a small person--but that the biggest, most overwhelming person on the subways at 6:05 pm is the one that happens to be up against you until those train doors open again. If you're really lucky--they have luggage with them that smooshes every one of your ten toes so that you crawl out of the car when it finally opens--each toe completely bent.

Here's to more subway lines, and four day work weeks

I'm not a size two, but i'm more stable than you

Wanted: The girl who stole my appetite

Clearly, I was not meant to live in this city. I eat breakfast and lunch, but I don't stop there. Sometimes--I eat dinner too.

This is a new concept to girls in New York City who belong to health clubs and who think that half an apple is OK, but a whole one is too many calories.

I want to thank the girls who sit at lunch tables around me in New York counting calories. They don't just count to themselves-but out loud to their friends, their mothers, their therapists, and inadvertently, to me across the restaurant.

Thank you girl in generic black pants suit who said the muffin was too much for breakfast-- and that lunch will have to be two pieces of lettuce-- you were in my head as I shared a steak and cheese at brunch.

I live in a city of rabbits.

There wasn't much to be decided after college. I had $26 in my bank account and 3 unpaid credit cards. I had to move home. I missed my friends, my family, my bed, but not my city.

Don't get my wrong. New York is great. Where else can you get a flaffel sandwich at 2 am and have it served to you by a man who says he'll read your palm for an extra 50 cents? Where on any given day you can walk down the street and find a movie being filmed, and where everyone around you is "proud to be a New Yorker."

I am a proud New Yorker. But my alligiance is starting to run low.

This blog is about the ridiciulous life of a New York City in her 20's. I am not looking for the ridiculousness. It comes with the territory.
because:
-Sex and the City comes to life af ter hours
-alcoholic drinks are really $14

...I have lived in upstate New York for four years, in a college town where the people move slower, talk slower, think slower. This was a place whose pace I complained about religiously

...and now, I think I might just miss it after all.