How to Use Stairs in a Metropolitan Area (Even If They Move!)

The world of walking can be a scary place. Just ask babies, who postpone walking out of fear and not motor function maturation, as scientists would have you believe. The danger of putting one foot in front of the other gets even more imminent as the population increases and familiarity decreases. This explains why tourists visiting highly populated areas are so fucking stupid. Look, I made a graph:

I spent way too much time making this graph.

In order to try and curb this loss of brain function, I've decided to outline the area I think needs the most work when it comes to walking: stairs. Please note that these suggestions-to-live-by obviously exclude those who are not able-bodied. It's also important to note that just because you are native to a large city, does not mean you're exempt from today's lesson. Some of you are stupid too!


Stairs: You Climb Them

This is pretty basic. When you use the stairs, walk forward by placing each foot on the step in front of you. Sometimes these steps go up and sometimes they go down. What you don't do is significantly slow down or stop altogether when you reach the first step. These are stairs. You've done this before. Do not panic and just keep fucking walking. There should not be a clusterfuck of people waiting at the bottom/top of the stairs because you forgot how to walk.


The Rules of Driving Apply

Provided you are in a country where people drive on the right side of the road, such as the U.S, you must walk on the right side of the stairs. If you're in a left-side-driving country, then the opposite is obviously true. If you are from the U.K. and visit the U.S., you must follow the rules of our roads and vice versa. If you're going to walk on the wrong side of the stairs and force everyone to collide with you, I expect you to drive that way too. Good luck!


Landings Aren't for Landing

And neither are the stairs themselves or the area right before and after the stairs. I know that cell phone service sucks, for the most part, when you go underground to use public transportation. Do you know what that means? You should finish your unimportant phone call/posting a photo of your cat to Instagram/sexting your boyfriend BEFORE you decide to begin your stair-y adventure. If you need to wait for somebody, the stairs are not a good place to do that. If you've just gotten off the stairs and have not figured out your bearings yet, walk a couple feet before you pull out your compass and/or check the skies for the North Star. Don't stand right at the top or bottom of the stairs, waiting for someone or looking like a lost idiot puppy, only to have innocent people ram helplessly into your back over and over again. And do not, I repeat DO NOT, throw them shade when they run into you. You're the problem, not them.


Moving Stairs: Same Rules but in Motion

The thing about escalators that makes them different are twofold: they move and everyone on them is going the same direction. You may think that this means you can stand anywhere on the escalator and ride up, carefree with the wind blowing in your hair. You would be wrong. Some people, for whatever reason that is none of your business, also walk up or down on the escalator rather than just standing in place and letting the next floor come to them. Perhaps they're late for something or dig the extra exercise. Whatever the reason, nobody deserves to be trapped when trying to get somewhere. The left side of the escalator is for walking while the right side of the escalator is for standing and being a lazy bum (like me!). Do not stand on the left side and do not try to walk on the right side. You will fail miserably on both accounts. It seems that while 100% of Washington, DC has figured this out, only 80% of New York City has. All it takes is one dope standing on the left side to block everyone from their destination. Don't be that guy.


If you don't want to follow any of these rules, that's fine...but I'll push you. I really will. Hard. I think that's really all I have to say. Maybe I'll also throw in a general "Try to be aware of those around you and understand that you're not the only person on this planet." just for good measure. Any questions about walking are welcome in the comments!

Two Truths And A Lie: The Presentation

Everyone knows this game. It's on the list of silly icebreakers that you're forced to participate in when it's your first team meeting at a brand new job or you've just moved into your dorm and the whole floor decides to get together and go ice skating in Central Park where you clutch the hand rail for dear life the entire time and look like Bambi when he walks onto that frozen lake (oddly specific). I've decided to amp it up a bit so that my followers/readers/subscribers/whatever the fuck you guys are called can get to know me on a more intimate level. And what better way to do that than by lying to all of you? So, without further ado, can you guess which of the following facts about me, my family, and my life are true and which are false? The winner gets nothing!

1. I shoved a crayon so far up my nose that I had to go to the hospital to get it removed.

2. My father sneaked (I always thought the past tense of "sneak" was "snuck" but spell check is telling me NOPE) backstage at Woodstock.

3. I was born in Brooklyn, 

New York.

4. I have never had the chicken pox or the chicken pox vaccine.

5. My aunt and uncle used to own an ostrich farm.

6. I can speak four languages, including English, French, Spanish, and Russian.

 

7. I used to weigh about 200 pounds.

8. My dad drummed for a Billboard Top 100, Number 2 song.

9. I hate all bugs and immediately kill them when I find them in my apartment/personal space.

10. I am half Chinese, a quarter Native American, and a quarter English.

11. I have a scar on my upper thigh from riding my bike too slowly.

12. My mom is a blonde republican.










So those are the fact (or are they?). Make your guesses now because tomorrow I will be revealing which of these are truths and which are lies. If you know me personally and I have told you one of these things (Sam, Aparna) or you are one of the people I'm talking about (hi, mom!), then keep your trap shut and don't ruin my life.

People Who Should Evaporate

Ok, well maybe not evaporate because that isn't violent enough, but definitely be maimed and/or murdered. You may think that's a bit harsh. I don't. I simply cannot wrap my head around a plausible reason as to why these individuals do the things they do. I think after these people are seen or caught doing the below things, a person should come and escort them to Mordor where they will be thrown into the fires of Mount Doom. Perhaps the person who escorts them could be Gollum and he can bite off their finger before he throws them in, just for good measure.


The Stair-Stopper

Whether they are mindlessly bullshitting away on their cell phone or just standing there drooling onto their feet, these idiots have decided to completely stop walking on the stairs and make everyone else go around them. Sometimes they make it all the way down or up the stairs only to stop at the bottom or top, respectively. A lot of the time, they do this on the steps going in and out of the subway (especially unforgivable). These steps only have enough room for two lines of people: one going up and one going down. By standing on the steps and being a moron, the Stair-Stopper forces everyone behind them to maneuver around them and face-first into the line going in the opposite direction. Traffic is entirely at a stand-still and nobody can go anywhere all because someone decided that they are the only person on the planet of importance. The prevalence of Stair-Steppers increases greatly when it's raining and they decide it's an ingenious idea to stand on the subway steps, just under the ceiling, to escape the rain. You are ruining my life by doing this and when I pass you, I will say "Are you serious?!" in the nastiest tone I can muster up. Also, beware of the rare and elusive Escalator-Stopper. They stop at the very top or bottom, just as the escalator ends, so that you have no choice but to flatten your whole body against their back and ass. Delicious.


Cat Callers

To Mordor with all of you! There is nothing I hate more than having my appearance assessed by a complete stranger. Does hanging out of your car by the waist and yelling "Hey Sexy!" ever work for you? Be honest, you're probably still a virgin. Nothing would make me happier in this world than if I could approach someone of the opposite sex on the sidewalk and not feel sick to my stomach with anxiety. This is because a hearty chunk of the time, they have something to say to me that has to do with the way I look. It's especially amusing when, if I react unfavorably to the public comment about my face, body, clothes, hair, ass, or tits, I'm called a bitch, whore, slut, etc. Anyone who knows me can vouch that despite my chronic sarcasm (it's terminal), I'm quite the amiable person. The jury is still out on why getting angry when a perfect stranger makes a comment about my waist-to-hip ratio constitutes my being a mean prostitute. I am not a piece of meat. I am not for you to comment on. I did not get dressed today for you. Please fuck off, on behalf of all women.


Mr./Ms./Mrs. Lasties

I am very weird about the order in which I eat things and I've been told that I'm not the only one who is like that. I will eat all around the edge of sandwiches and burgers and make it so that my last bite is the cheesy, saucy, ooey, gooey center. When I eat gummy bears, I save all of the green and white ones for last because they are my favorite. It's almost like I'm doing work when I start eating something in order to get rid of the less palatable parts of my meal. So when a friend (or soon to be enemy) asks me for a bite when there is only one, amazing, perfect bite left, I'm livid. Don't get me wrong, I'm an extremely generous person and that is why this sucks the most. I will give them the last bite and all of my green (which are strawberry-flavored, believe it or not) and white gummy bears, but inside my soul is dying. I can remember one instance of this from my childhood which practically traumatized me. Everyone agrees, I'm sure, that Jolly Ranchers tasted 114% better when they came in a roll and were square-shaped. I used to live, LIVE, for the moment when a red Jolly Rancher was next. There was no taste like it. However, this pack was especially barren and it wasn't until my absolute last Rancher that I saw a glimmer of cherry-flavored hope. That is, until my mom asked me if she could have one. I know, I know, I should have killed her. Instead, I gave her that cherry Jolly Rancher and continued sucking on my nasty, grape Jolly Rancher with a heavier heart.



Captain Miserable

Let me guess, you don't like this music, you don't like this party, and you don't like these people.We all have our moments when we're very difficult to please; whether it be from a lack of sleep, food, or just because we're in a foul mood. However, Captain Miserable is always difficult to please and will never just be happy and go with the goddamned flow. They are usually a friend of yours which makes it even more challenging because you have to be kind and supportive. They never seem to be satisfied with where you're going or what you're doing, but they never come up with an alternate idea. Captain Miserable most likely has a lot of other issues going on under the surface, but at the moment they aren't willing to fix any of them and would rather bitch, moan, and make your life a living hell. Save us all the trouble and just go home and sort through your shit. That, or bring us somewhere that you enjoy. If you're unable to do either, then you just have to suck it up and have fun. These are the rules.


Loud-Ass People

Just shut the fuck up. Nobody cares. That is all.


Social Preachers

"You should really be vegan." "Do you care about the ASPCA?" "Let me ask you a question about your hair!" Absolutely not. Social Preachers can be found on the street trying to sell you things, at parties trying to shove their views down your throat, or they can even possess your best friend temporarily. About a year ago, I was cornered at a party for about two hours by a guy who claimed that veganism was the only way to live. Through further conversation, I actually discovered that he ate fish (technically pescatarian), but continued to tell people he was vegan to "impress them." I remained severely unimpressed. When I first moved to NYC and was a gullible newb, I fell for the SSP (Street Social Preacher). I ended up paying $40 for a ~salon experience~ that expired, to my horror, only a little while after I bought it. It remained unused and I would have been better served wiping my ass or making pasties with said $40. The moral of the story is that 99.9% of the people who stop you on the street want your money. They don't just want to talk to you about the ASPCA, they want you to give them money for it. Just want to volunteer? Too bad. Once you start talking to them, they will guilt you with stories and pictures to try and bleed you of all of your income. My rule? If someone has a clipboard, fucking RUN. As for the vegans (I know that not all of you are undercover pescatarians), I'm cool as long as you don't try to convert me. I like cheese far too much and you'll just have to deal with that.


No wonder that website thinks my blog is "upset most of the time" when I'm writing shit like this every other day.

Subway Personalities I Could Do Without

The title says it all; these people make my commuting experience displeasing and leave me with an unfavorable attitude for the rest of the work day.


The Overeager Boarder

The rudest fucking thing in the world is to try and enter the subway before everyone has exited, but this person just does not give a shit. Even at 42nd street-Times Square during rush hour, they will slip in on the side while 20+ people try to exit through the tiny opening they are allotted. Where they have to be is just that much more important than where you have to be and you're just going to have to deal with that. The most effective method of combating the Boarder is much like the defense mechanisms of smaller predators in the wild; make yourself as big (and pointy) as possible. I usually place both hands on my hips, allowing my razor-sharp, hyper-extended, alien elbows to flank me on either side, and exit the subway without a care in the world. The Overeager Boarder can enter before you exit, but at their own risk. Hopefully some sort of lesson will be learned from the searing pain in their appendix area due to being rocked in the gut, but probably not.


Patient Zero

A lot of the time we have no choice but to be inches away and face-to-face with a complete stranger on the subway. Sometimes this can be tolerable with the help of a strategically-placed magazine or book. Other times, death is a better option since it seems impending anyway. This is because the person who you're smashed against is possible infected with the zombie virus. They sneeze, snot, hack, and cough everywhere and there is a variety of multi-colored liquids dripping from the areas in and around their mouth. There's no escape until the next stop when people shuffle around a bit and you intensely regret pointing and laughing at the people who wear surgical masks during their commute.


The Boombox

Whether it's with electronics or with their own mouths, the Boombox is loud as fuck. You can usually find them sitting down and screaming every word they say (regardless of whether they're with anyone) or playing their music aloud, sans headphones, from their MP3 player/phone. Their voice is usually one of the grating, Fran Drescher types and their music is always something severely intolerable like Mambo No. 5 or the Tiny Toons Theme Song. The Boombox usually rides the entire subway line from start to finish, most likely just to annoy people like you.



Inner Ear Issues

These people seem to have no control over their bodies. If it wasn't for them stomping on your foot every other minute, you would swear that they didn't even have legs. You surmise that even if they were sitting down they'd be flailing all over the subway car with each twist and turn. They're usually carrying a giant, turtle shell of a backpack which also slams into you every time that they do. Inner Ear Issues never notices the stink eye you're giving them, but you notice the stink eye that everyone else is giving you every time you domino into them on the subway. The resemblance to a Thwomp (of Super Mario Bros. fame) who has just gotten off of a spinning teacup ride is uncanny. The only way to save yourself from their war path is to get off of the subway ASAP.


The Insecure Stripper

We're all familiar with the stripper poles on the subway; they're not attached to any seats and have a ton of open hand room for people of all heights trying to stabilize themselves. If you're wasted, 18, and the subway isn't crowded, they are the perfect accessory for the sexy dance you've been practicing in the mirror every time you listen to a song with a lot of bass in it (oddly specific). If you're the Insecure Stripper, this is the perfect pole to hug with your entire body and not let anyone else on the crowded subway car use. If you're brave and incredibly unbalanced (physically!), like I am, you will hold onto the pole anyway. This will not detach the Stripper from the subway pole and you will most likely end up copping a feel somewhere inappropriate. Regardless of their gender, the Insecure Stripper always seems to be covered in breasts so that no matter where you clutch on the pole, there is a boob continually smashing into the back of your hand. Don't get me wrong, I love touching me some titties, but usually not unexpectedly, in public, and at 9:00am in the morning.


Subway Soapboxer

If you're an egocentric tool with a lot on your mind (or just plain certifiable), you've probably realized that the subway is the perfect venue to share your views with people. This is because as soon as those doors close, they can't escape and are forced to listen to your bullshit. In my experience, the Soapboxer is usually a deeply religious person who wants to explain the ins and outs of Jesus Christ to you or talk about how they are a fallen angel and only young girls are pure enough to touch them (the latter exists, has a ponytail, and likes to take the 6 from Astor Place). The Soapboxer may also read straight from the Bible, share their horrible poetry with you, talk about their political views, perform a scene from Shakespeare's Hamlet, tell you a boring anecdote, and countless other things. No matter how much you try to read or turn up the volume on your music, you can't block them out. You must listen and they know that.



Thanks for reading. If you think you're one of the aforementioned people, well then fuck you forever. If not, good luck riding the subway!

My First Chocolatey Post

Chocolate, but not my chocolate.

So this is the very beginning of it all. The first post ever on the first page ever of my first blog ever (except not really, I have like five others). What better way to kick this baby off than to start off by telling the world how much chocolate I just ate? I'll describe it as best as I can (even though I sort of blacked out during) so you can feel as if you were there with me.

I was minding my own business, finished up the leftover Mongolian BBQ from yesterday's lunch, when a coworker quietly suggested I try some Kinder Shoko-Bons. After having consumed my body mass in Kinder Buenos yesterday, I really didn't have the will power to refuse. The four Shoko-Bons were immediately followed by four Dark Chocolate Hershey Kisses, four triangular pieces of a Milk Chocolate Toblerone, two Hershey Krackel fun-size bars (fun-size indeed), one mini Milky Way, and one mini Almond Joy (which I promptly told to fuck off since I've never liked coconut involved in my business affairs). At this point, I was using the more pedestrian chocolate as palate-cleansers for the European and Mexican chocolates we had leftover from team members' various vacations. It was finally brought to my attention that I had been doing laps around the immediate office area and shoving whatever resembled chocolate into my face. As most of you may know, this is quite the dangerous endeavor when you remember how much chocolate going into your body resembles chocolate coming out of your body. Now that I've slowed down, I'm finally writing this first entry after hours of tinkering in the "Design" tab but mainly, I can't stop thinking about the more chocolate that's a couple of feet away from me.




Anyway, now that story time is out of the way, I'm sure you want to know what kind of shit to expect from my blog in the future:

♥ Food is at the very top of the list. Even if my post isn't about food at all, there might be pornographic pictures of food. This is how I roll (mmm now I want a roll).
♥ How my life relates to various episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and what this means when discussing my general mental health and well-being.
♥ Makeup and clothes: why I buy so many, where on my body I put them, and if they stop being used after the second or third go and remain in a drawer/closet for the rest eternity.
♥ I might explain why I hate any fictional media involving space. I also might not and you'll just have to come to terms with that.
♥ Feminism, sexism, racism, and ableism. Expect a lot of isms.
♥ Things that make you go "Awwww" and then your eyes or ovaries (provided you have a set) explode. An example of this is the YouTube video, Cookie Monster. May the first sentence of this bullet serve as a warning when watching this. I will not be held responsible for any dangly eyes or splodey ovaries.
♥ New York City reviews: I will complain about the subway, rave about the Brooklyn brunches, and pull my best poker face when describing the underground warehouse parties.
♥ Toilet-related things. Doodie is the best word in the world and I love talking about poop. It makes me happy and kind of proud. Hopefully you feel the same way.

That's about it! I hope everyone is pumped for the ride of their life. Since there's never a good way to end a post, especially your very first one, I'm just going to...