CawfeeGuy's Bubble Theory: think of your "personal space" as a bubble; a very small, very tight and form fitting bubble. you and your actions should not extend beyond your bubble. this includes smells, so go easy on the cologne/perfume or (on the flip side) bathe.
That having been said...
1. One person, one seat: we all pay the same fare, guys and it only entitles you to one seat; there's really no need to spread yourself out like you're trying to fend off a bear attack and i'm sure you're junk isn't so big that you can't close your legs. if it is i'll be glad to help you hold them up. and ladies, there is absolutely positively no reason to bring more than two bags with you to work (and honestly with the size of the bags out there, i can't even begin to fathom why you'd need more than a pocketbook). if you need to bring enough stuff with you to take up two seats, you should probably find another mode of transportation. and don't get cunty when someone asks you to move your shit so they can sit down; you're wrong and you will be read.
2. Cellphones are fucking annoying: once you swipe that Metrocard, it doesn't matter if you're Donald Trump or Martha Stewart, you're just another schmuck riding a bus and nobody gives a flaming shit about your business. more often than not other folks are trying to nap on the way in to the city and decompress on the way home. keep it on vibrate, in your pocket. keep it brief and low; don't be that guy or that girl that everyone stares at with daggers in their eyes as you yammer away for 20 minutes about last night's Jersey Shore or your kooky Korean nail girl. try texting; you can think of it as aerobic exercise.
3. Headphones are for personal use only: nobody should be able to hear what's being piped directly into your head, regardless of how hot the song is (or how hot you think it is).
4. Save it for the beauty shop: ladies, please shut the fuck up. if you need to chit chat and gossip with your Bus BFF that badly, do it quietly. you are not on the View and nobody wants to hear your conversation, for the entire two hour bus ride; you sound like a yard full of chickens. see #2.
5. Procrastinate on your own time: if you know your stop is coming up, don't wait until the absolute last second to get out of your seat and make your way up the aisle. chances are you're not the only person trying to get off the bus; waiting until the bus has already stopped is too late and just blocks the aisle for everyone else (especially when you're in a window seat and have to move another person out of the way to get out of your seat).
6. Dentist seat syndrome: this previous post pretty much sums it up.
7. Mind the kaboose: sometimes we're forced to stand, on the way home; it's a sad fact, but a fact nonetheless. if you're one of the unfortunate souls who has to stand for the entire ride, while all the people sitting can sympathize with your circumstance, they shouldnt be forced to have your ass in their faces. granted, some people don't mind certain people's asses in their face, but still: it's polite to ask prior to expecting a rim job.
8. Metrocard Ettiquite 101: have it ready before you get on the bus, it will really save alot of angry glares, especially when it's raining. have an idea of what your balance on it is versus how much the fare is before you try getting on. it doesn't take MENSA membership to use one, either. if you're at a complete loss, look at the person who got on before you and do the exact same thing.
i know i have pet peeves about the bus, but since i spend about 4 hours of my day on one, i consider myself somewhat of an authority. i'm pretty sure that following these rules will make everyone's day a little better and may save your life one day. see, y'never know when a fellow commuter is gonna snap and strangle you with a circular knitting needle...i'm just sayin...
Friday, August 20, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
the Magic Number
not too long after I started knitting, I found a great pattern i wanted to use to make a Coffee Cup Cozy, but the yarn & needles I had would've yielded a much bigger cozy (think: Super Big Gulp Cozy). now, I'd read that patterns could be altered using ratios and measurement and gauge but had no idea how to do that. naturally, I asked my better half, since he's as fluent in math as the last president was at hate-mongering. it took me ten minutes to explain what i wanted to do, ten to explain what my knitting books were telling me to do and five for him to figure out the ratio of what I had versus what I wanted, and how I could get what I wanted with what I had. oh and another fifteen for him to explain it all to me (during which, I swear-to-god he started talking backwards just to fuck with me). at the end of the entire process I was no closer to understanding how he figured out the answer, but I was convinced my husband was truly a Hot Gay Nerd with Great Magical Powers.
math, I'm convinced, is magic; a strange and potent magic, written in the language of numbers. like any other kind of magic, some people understand and are adept at it and some people are hopeless muggles. I fall into the latter category.
I 'get' simple addition, subtraction, multiplication and division, but when talk turns to ratios and percentages and fractions (specifically their addition, subtraction and multiplication), that's where I will swear that something mystical is taking place.
higher math, like algebra, geometry, calculus and other stuff I barely passed in high school, is even more arcane and mysterious. most algebra problems...with their variables and parenthetical equations... look to me, like the recipe to turn lead into gold; 'sine', 'cosine' and 'tangent' may as well be 'bibbity bobbity boo'. I remember looking at classmates and wondering, "how do you understand this? the teacher isn't speaking English"!
see, I'm not 'stupid', I'm just scared of numbers; as surely as I'm scared of bugs and clowns and bridges. okay...maybe not in exactly the same way. lets just say I severely mistrust numbers in the same way i mistrust the Russians, Log Cabin Republicans and any gay movie netflix swears I'll love.
the thing is, math (like the 1st two), is cold and emotionless; utterly devoid of poetry or true beauty. it's also (paradoxically unlike the 1st two) inherently incapable of lying or falsehood. a mathematical product is what it is, and is subject to no man's interpretation.
I'm a word guy (contrary to what my Words With Friends opponents may tell you). words define how i think and process information; words are how i define my world and experiences. human beings have, over the millennia, crafted millions of words, each as distinct and particular in meaning and intention as a crayon in the super-huge box of Crayolas. with those words, humans can either create the verbal equivalent of stick figures or the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. me? I'm kinda like a Garfield comic. numbers and math have no such subtlety or ability to create.
that's not to say that I think they're useless; quite the opposite, actually. they're great tools for creation. bridges get built on numbers, computers run on them like gas and they're the reason I get paid twice a month; even in my new hobby, knitting, numbers and math are essential. math really is everywhere, all around us, all the time. that doesn't mean I understand it any better. like The Force and other forms of magic it's just waiting for those who can understand it, to tap into its power.
there's a reason the word 'mathematician' sounds an awful lot like 'mad magician'.
math, I'm convinced, is magic; a strange and potent magic, written in the language of numbers. like any other kind of magic, some people understand and are adept at it and some people are hopeless muggles. I fall into the latter category.
I 'get' simple addition, subtraction, multiplication and division, but when talk turns to ratios and percentages and fractions (specifically their addition, subtraction and multiplication), that's where I will swear that something mystical is taking place.
higher math, like algebra, geometry, calculus and other stuff I barely passed in high school, is even more arcane and mysterious. most algebra problems...with their variables and parenthetical equations... look to me, like the recipe to turn lead into gold; 'sine', 'cosine' and 'tangent' may as well be 'bibbity bobbity boo'. I remember looking at classmates and wondering, "how do you understand this? the teacher isn't speaking English"!
see, I'm not 'stupid', I'm just scared of numbers; as surely as I'm scared of bugs and clowns and bridges. okay...maybe not in exactly the same way. lets just say I severely mistrust numbers in the same way i mistrust the Russians, Log Cabin Republicans and any gay movie netflix swears I'll love.
the thing is, math (like the 1st two), is cold and emotionless; utterly devoid of poetry or true beauty. it's also (paradoxically unlike the 1st two) inherently incapable of lying or falsehood. a mathematical product is what it is, and is subject to no man's interpretation.
I'm a word guy (contrary to what my Words With Friends opponents may tell you). words define how i think and process information; words are how i define my world and experiences. human beings have, over the millennia, crafted millions of words, each as distinct and particular in meaning and intention as a crayon in the super-huge box of Crayolas. with those words, humans can either create the verbal equivalent of stick figures or the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. me? I'm kinda like a Garfield comic. numbers and math have no such subtlety or ability to create.
that's not to say that I think they're useless; quite the opposite, actually. they're great tools for creation. bridges get built on numbers, computers run on them like gas and they're the reason I get paid twice a month; even in my new hobby, knitting, numbers and math are essential. math really is everywhere, all around us, all the time. that doesn't mean I understand it any better. like The Force and other forms of magic it's just waiting for those who can understand it, to tap into its power.
there's a reason the word 'mathematician' sounds an awful lot like 'mad magician'.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Knit Wittery
I'm sure you remember, back before I'd taken my "blog hiatus", that I was in a desperate search for a way to focus my creative energy; work was slowly sucking the life out of me on a daily basis and blogging just wasn't cutting it. i felt like i spent 90% of my current life being a soulless automaton in an enormous corporate production of It's a Small World and it was incredibly depressing. I needed to make something; put something...anything..."out there".
as some of my readers know, before I was a white collar drone I was a retail queen. retail offered oodles of time for creative pursuits. when worked retail I wrote hundreds of really bad poems and drew, in my spare time. back in college i was an "actor" in the campus' theater group, starring in 3 productions a year four the four years I was
there. in short, I'd never not had a creative outlet or arena of expression.
I'd thought about taking a cake decorating class at the local Michael's or A.C. Moore, but couldn't find one to fit into my schedule. plus, how much cake can you really eat? then I thought about ceramics/pottery, but there's nothing like that on La Isla del Staten; apparently SI housewives don't like mud, who knew? manhattan was out of the question because of the commute. i was completely frustrated. i hated my job, had no time to myself to do the things i wanted to do and was angry because of the overwhelming feelings of suffocation from both.
then one weekend Magenta and Chewie came over and M had a project she was itching to show me. now, she'd been knitting for a couple of years and, while I'd always been really interested in seeing what she was cranking out, it never seemed like a viable hobby for me. I mean really though, how many guys do you know who knit? knitting was for grandmas and creepy, crunchy, cat ladies; it's a woman's hobby. then I had a two pronged media inspired epiphany.
first, I'd just finished reading Joel Derfner's Swish (My Quest to Become the Gayest Person Ever), the first chapter of which was all about being a guy who knitted. I was inspired. I mean, yeah, the whole idea of a guy knitting is stereotypically gay, but jumpin judas priest on a pogo stick, I'm secure enough in my masculinity (as fleeting and negligible as it is) and my gaity to march in parades and walk through the mall holding my husband's hand; why not try knitting? surely i'm that gay.
secondly, we'd just watched an episode of Grey's Anatomy where crazy cancerous Izzy spent the entire episode, in bed, knitting a hideous orange and green ribbed scarf. if Katherine Heigel could do it, so could I!
so, about a week after my initial mishap, armed with two size 10's and YouTube, it clicked. a week later, i had made a scarf! the next thing I knew, I was knitting all the time in my spare time; 'cuz see, my "spare time"' is my commuting time and my hour and a half in between getting home from work and going to bed. so, there I was, on the bus, train, subway platform and bench outside my office before work, knitting and purling like a man possessed!
like Joel Derfner, I learned the lingo, the mechanics and the nuances of "good yarn" and "fast needles". scarves, hats, blankets, needle rolls, tea cozies, coffee cup sleeves, iPod socks and headphone pads all tumbled out of my needles. i felt like rumplestiltskin...only taller. i was creating, again and it felt marvelous.
I've been knitting now for about 8 months and am working on my 1st sweater/hoodie, thanks to a great class at my local yarn shop, led by a truly terrific teacher. it's a continual learning process that, sometimes, makes me want to stick a size 6 in my ear, but I'm loving it. I've found a hobby that works for me and makes me feel great; MS and I bounce ideas and patterns off each other and I've never felt closer to her. i also can't thank her enough for introducing me to this art, which under the right circumstances, could turn into a life long habit/addiction that could, potentially bankrupt me. i mean have you seen the price of a good silk/cashmere blend lately?
as some of my readers know, before I was a white collar drone I was a retail queen. retail offered oodles of time for creative pursuits. when worked retail I wrote hundreds of really bad poems and drew, in my spare time. back in college i was an "actor" in the campus' theater group, starring in 3 productions a year four the four years I was
there. in short, I'd never not had a creative outlet or arena of expression.
I'd thought about taking a cake decorating class at the local Michael's or A.C. Moore, but couldn't find one to fit into my schedule. plus, how much cake can you really eat? then I thought about ceramics/pottery, but there's nothing like that on La Isla del Staten; apparently SI housewives don't like mud, who knew? manhattan was out of the question because of the commute. i was completely frustrated. i hated my job, had no time to myself to do the things i wanted to do and was angry because of the overwhelming feelings of suffocation from both.
then one weekend Magenta and Chewie came over and M had a project she was itching to show me. now, she'd been knitting for a couple of years and, while I'd always been really interested in seeing what she was cranking out, it never seemed like a viable hobby for me. I mean really though, how many guys do you know who knit? knitting was for grandmas and creepy, crunchy, cat ladies; it's a woman's hobby. then I had a two pronged media inspired epiphany.
first, I'd just finished reading Joel Derfner's Swish (My Quest to Become the Gayest Person Ever), the first chapter of which was all about being a guy who knitted. I was inspired. I mean, yeah, the whole idea of a guy knitting is stereotypically gay, but jumpin judas priest on a pogo stick, I'm secure enough in my masculinity (as fleeting and negligible as it is) and my gaity to march in parades and walk through the mall holding my husband's hand; why not try knitting? surely i'm that gay.
secondly, we'd just watched an episode of Grey's Anatomy where crazy cancerous Izzy spent the entire episode, in bed, knitting a hideous orange and green ribbed scarf. if Katherine Heigel could do it, so could I!
so, about a week after my initial mishap, armed with two size 10's and YouTube, it clicked. a week later, i had made a scarf! the next thing I knew, I was knitting all the time in my spare time; 'cuz see, my "spare time"' is my commuting time and my hour and a half in between getting home from work and going to bed. so, there I was, on the bus, train, subway platform and bench outside my office before work, knitting and purling like a man possessed!
like Joel Derfner, I learned the lingo, the mechanics and the nuances of "good yarn" and "fast needles". scarves, hats, blankets, needle rolls, tea cozies, coffee cup sleeves, iPod socks and headphone pads all tumbled out of my needles. i felt like rumplestiltskin...only taller. i was creating, again and it felt marvelous.
I've been knitting now for about 8 months and am working on my 1st sweater/hoodie, thanks to a great class at my local yarn shop, led by a truly terrific teacher. it's a continual learning process that, sometimes, makes me want to stick a size 6 in my ear, but I'm loving it. I've found a hobby that works for me and makes me feel great; MS and I bounce ideas and patterns off each other and I've never felt closer to her. i also can't thank her enough for introducing me to this art, which under the right circumstances, could turn into a life long habit/addiction that could, potentially bankrupt me. i mean have you seen the price of a good silk/cashmere blend lately?
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Yup, Just Like Madonna
That’s right, bitches: We* are back.
We’re back and, like a certain gap-toothed-aging popstar, we’ve re-invented ourselves; like the tattoos which CawfeeGuy has adorning his legs, we have risen from the ashes and been rebirthed.
We’re back with a whole new look to the blog** and a whole new attitude about blogging.
We’re back and, like a certain gap-toothed-aging popstar, we’ve re-invented ourselves; like the tattoos which CawfeeGuy has adorning his legs, we have risen from the ashes and been rebirthed.
We’re back with a whole new look to the blog** and a whole new attitude about blogging.
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