The life and times of an ethnically ambiguous little lady.

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

A Wrinkle in Time

I like the elderly. I mean, we all have our good days and our bad days, but generally, they're a funny people and more so because they don't mean to be.

I had just seen the movie "For Your Consideration" (it was good, by the way, no "Best in Show," but certainly no "Employee of the Month" either. Not that I saw that movie, I'm just saying. ) and went to the theater bathroom. There were four stalls and I saw an older woman go in the stall next to me.

All of a sudden I hear a voice. An old Brooklyn-sounding voice ask, "So what did you think of the movie?"

In response, the older woman who had uttered it got silence, because we were all, well, going to the bathroom. And it's easy to ignore someone when you can't actually see them. And we didn't know each other.

"Fine, don't answer me then,” she said, with a harrumph.

"Ah, well, what movie did you see?" the stall next to me volunteered.

"'For Your Consideration' and I just didn't get it," she said with disgust.

"Well, I thought it was a great movie about the corruption of Hollywood," the stall replied.

"I guess," old Brooklyn answered.

"Really?" ventured the last stall. "I felt it had a dark, sarcastic humor, but truly, the level of tender, ruthless, inspired, lethally accurate study that has gone into the follicular expression of each and every character in Christopher Guest's latest hilarious cultural corrective is something inspiring to behold."

"Sp0ak up. I didn't catch all of it," our moderator said.

"Ah . . . why don't we all just meet in the handicapped stall and discuss this face-to-face?" I ventured. This suggestion was of course, also greeted with silence.

After our little pow wow we all came out of our respective stalls and washed our hands, and it was awkward.

I felt like I gained a lot from the conversation, though. We discussed the nuances of Hollywood, the price of fame, and so much more. But most of all, I went in having to urinate, and came out realizing that stalls should be soundproof. And I owe it all to that older woman who wasn’t afraid to speak out.

Monday, November 13, 2006

Run a Mile in My Bedroom Slippers

While I knew that the New York City marathon was coming up, I didn't have much of a vested interest in it. I certainly wasn't training for it, (you don't feel so inclined to go for long jogs after you fall off a treadmill, as it leaves emotional scars and twenty stitches of physical scars in the shape of a smiley face on your knee.)

But that all changes when the marathon actually races by your window. I woke up on a Sunday morning to cheering. I stuck my head out the window and saw a few guys in wheelchairs race by. This struck me as odd.

Granted, I just moved to Bed-Stuy, so Sunday morning wheelchair races could be all the rage here, but I found it dubious. But the crowds continued to grow, and the runners kept racing by until the street was absolutely covered in them. Big runners, small runners, a runner in a tutu, two German runners with matching German flag-colored mohawks.

Perhaps my favorite runner was the one that was walking but on his cell phone, who I overheard say “Yeah, I’m really not running as fast as I’d like.” Truer words were never spoken.

And here I was, watching (most of) these people run their asses off from the comfort of my bed, in my pajamas, just sticking my head out the window. The only way I could have felt lazier is if I was also eating bonbons.

Now, I know my neighborhood is pretty diverse these days but nothing hit it home more then the portrait across the street of some of the onlookers: four white kids, in various shades of Emo dress, looking like they dropped right out of Williamsburg (and yes, for the record, they ARE in a band). They were standing next to two huge black guys, with copious amounts of bling and the quintessential winter coat with fur hood. It was a crossroad of stereotypes, people.

Even better, the two black guys decided to bring out their stereo and play every album that Jay-Z has ever recorded. I thought this was a brilliant idea, as I love having a soundtrack, and Jay-Z has pretty much lived my life in a nutshell.

Yup, it was pretty much a perfect Sunday morning. I had live entertainment streaming past my window and good tunes to listen to. Now if someone would just deliver some bonbons to my bed.