February 19, 2012.

Knicks v. Mavericks

104-97

I made a sign and I liked it.

Even a Kidd can be LINspired

Actually, I liked it so much, I found kids to hold it!  Oh yea, their parents loved it and the people around them also loved it too.  I mean c’mon, who DOESN’T love kids…they’re like puppies!

The sign. Not the song.

All wearing Lin jerseys

Ok, this image is totally not what happened.

Washing our own clothes was one of the responsibilities that my siblings and I were expected to do every week when we were younger.  By the time I was in 2nd grade, both my brother and I were fairly self sufficient when it came to doing our own laundry.  Because of that I’ve become extremely sensitive to anyone touching my clothes but more so when it came to strangers at the laundromat.

My policy is that if you see my clothes accidentally drop to the ground or see  something still left in the washing machine, please just let me know and I will pick it up.

However, that shit never works out that way.  Such was the case recently that made me and the stranger very red in the face.

As I transferred to what I thought was all of my clothes into the dryer, I hear a man’s voice say, “Excuse me, you left something in the washer.”  I turned around to see him reaching into the depths of the washer I used and pull out something purple…something lacy…something…fuck.

And there he was holding my panties between his thumb and his index finger now turning red at the realization of what he was holding.  I too was so embarrassed that I snatched my scanty away from him, mumbled thanks, and threw it like a fastball into the dryer and ran out of the laundromat and back to home base.

Lesson learned.  I always double check the washer and dryer thoroughly now to never have that happen to me again. And lesson for anyone else, please don’t touch people’s stuff.

Inspired by Missed Connections by Sophie Blackall.

You Had a Question. I LOL’d, Rambled, and Walked Away.

I was hungry after work  and decided to pick up some veggies for my pasta alfredo I was making that night.  There you were at Gristedes off of 32nd Street.  Actually, I didn’t even see you there.  I just noticed a nice pair of shoes standing next to my basket as I was concentrating on which shitty zucchini looked the best.  I didn’t want any trouble from anyone so I apologized without looking at you in the face and picked up my basket.

And as I looked up and over to the stranger who stood next to my basket a few seconds before.  There you were. Hot damn. Tall, dark, and handsome. You smiled, I smiled, and like old habits I immediately looked away.  But you said something.

“Excuse me. I’m sorry. Would you happen to know where the tomatoes are?  I’ve been looking for it for a while and couldn’t find it.”

So what did I do?  I started talking with my hands and said that this grocery store was too big and that I was looking for colored veggies as well.  I proceeded to laugh and named some of the colors that vegetables came in…green, yellow, red…  Then I said, “Good luck with your search” and I walked away.

As I flail my arms.

I kicked myself.

The saddest part of this story, was that I didn’t even realize the right action to take until a friend told me later on that night.

 I’m not socially awkward most of the time, but when it comes to things like this…I’m like Real McCoy. I like to Runaway.

Stuff I find at home. Watch out fruits and veggies, we are coming for you.

The stuff we use when we make our banh mi sandwiches

I'm not going to say anything about this because it can go so many ways.

Whenever I hear “Pumped Up Kicks” by the Foster People, I think of Air Jordan mayhem.

Below is a video with snippets of what an Air Jordan release looks like.  If you notice, there are MANY videos from one of my favorite places of all time, Houston, Texas.  Seriously, I think some of the funniest folks come from that city.  Pay close attention to the Houston stuff…if you’re not from there then please note that Humble (make sure you look out for the car), North Harris county, etc. are all considered a part of the Houston metro in my book. Shout out to the “Get Money Boys!”

And yes, I have been in line for a pair of Air Jordan before – although not as crowded – and it is really that intense. Even someone like me wanted to punch a 14 year old girl in the face for cutting in line and getting the LAST pair of shoes.  But I am a semi-lady and instead of using my fist, I used my fighting words.  I called her a bitch.  That’s right, I told her.