Overheard at the Gay Card Store

Store guy: "Can I help you?"
50something Superqueen: "God helps those who helps ourselves, honey. I'm looking for a graduation card from grammar school... my lover is graduating."

You Know What Nobody Wants to See on the Train?

A 40something white dude who looks sort of like Francis Dollarhyde from Manhunter, sitting by himself with a Hannah Montana backpack and pin on his jacket and reading this book. Eeeeescchchch.

Notes From the First Night of Class

* Ameoba look like Funfetti under a microscope!!

* Applied learning, direct from the professor:
"A good way, if you wanna do someone in -- and I'm blanking on the poison name here -- is to do something that'll keep oxygen from getting into the mitochondria."

* There is now a Whole Foods one block away from the school, and since the class gets out Saturdays at noon, brunch just got a whole lot more carrot cakey. Hooray!

* Our assignment was to look at the letter 'e' under a microscope. Since the class is made up of pretty high-functioning people, we all managed to do this in about 3 minutes. Then our teacher said "I have to go get some more notes to give you guys since you're hot shots and did that so quickly." So look forward to me using the phrase "hot shots" at every available opportunity for the next year or so.

* Overheard!
White person at community college: Yeah, I just have a lot of class rage because of how I was raised.
Other student: You have a lot of what?
WPACC: Class rage. I just don't think anyone should be paid that amount.

More class rage sure to follow -- right here on The Second Degree internet website!

(image from Two Novice Chefs...)

Scenes from 9th Ave.

I took these about half an hour after I saw an old drunk guy being shuffled into an ambulance.

Some Good News, Some Bad News

The Good: I finally figured out why my apartment has been smelling so funky lately, particularly in the refrigerator corner of things. I'd feared it was some sort of cat litter thing. But in fact, it seems that at some point in the past, I optimistically bought produce, and then someone helpful (my mom or cleaning lady, I'm guessing) put said produce in the crisper for safekeeping. Results below.


The Bad: I have absolutely no guesses as to what sort of foodstuffs the above items once were, and I may be wanted for questioning in several ongoing investigations.

Brush With Death! (Warning: Spoilers [The Real Kind])

DON'T WORRY America. I am safe and sound after another terrifying night out at the movies. But it's true, I almost died of

a) shame that I had not ever heard of the Wineville Chicken Coop Murders

b) fracas

Fortunately, Changeling got out at about 11.

$70 Medication Side Effect

Every fourth Tuesday, my sense of smell becomes superhuman. I can smell random people on the street, the two-days old weed in my yoga teacher's hair, someone's lunch three cubes over, whatever.

So yesterday I went outside and smelled lilacs and the scent was so strong, I had to stop and calculate what month it was. The smell kept going for an entire block and I finally realized I was following a woman who must be the source of the lilac smell.

I asked her what fragrance she was wearing (SUPER CREEPY of me, BTW), and she said it was a Jo Malone lotion, so I went to the store and smelled things until I found the lilac smell, which apparently is actually a French lime blossom smell which apparently is actually a linden smell. But hey, it was my front yard and my childhood so I'll call it a lilac smell if I want.

And I didn't even blink at paying $70 for an 8-ounce bottle of lotion (WTF?!) because a) I'm about to live on loans for a year my IRA lost 20% there's no economy we're all doomed anyway and b) it smelled SO GOOD. And I blame the Pill for the hormonal fluctuations that give me my olfactory superpowers.

The end. Now go submit a journal article about that. Lates.

Good Morning Indeed!

Here's what the fellow in Duane Reade was buying the other morning:
* Large box of Skyn Condoms
* Generic brand personal lubricant, 8 oz. bottle
* Two boxes enemas
* Cheerios
* Milk

:::MISSING ENDANGERED::: Squooshy Webber

Name:		Squooshy Weber
Classification:		Endangered Missing
Alias / Nickname:		Platty
Date of Birth:		1994
Date Missing:		8/27/08
From City/State:		The Imaginary Nurse's Bed
Missing From (Country):		US
Age at Time of Disappearance:		13
Gender:		Male
Race:		Platypus
Height:		10 inches
Weight:		8 Ounces
Hair Color:		Grey and Teal
Eye Color:		Blue
Identifying Characteristics:		Is a stuffed platypus
Circumstances of Disappearance:		Squooshy was last seen lounging on the bed of The Imaginary Nurse prior to an unannounced visit from her cleaning lady. Past visits have resulted in Squooshy being placed in the hamper, inside rolled-up sheets, in the shoe rack, in the cat toy pile, behind the television, and between couch cushions. Investigators theorize that cleaning lady thinks The Imaginary Nurse is too old to have stuffed animals. (The Imaginary Nurse would like to know how her cleaning lady expects her to hold her chin up while she sleeps if there is no stuffed platypus to wedge beneath her.) Squooshy went missing along with an eye mask that was later found under a pile of boxes in the corner of the room.
Investigating authorities:		FBI, NCIS, TIN
Reward:		Warm, fuzzy feeling (and warm, fuzzy platypus)
Contact:		theimaginarynurse@gmail.com

Movie Review: The Dark Knight

This dystopian docudrama follows, in real time, six days in the lives of two rival criminals as they engage in prankster brinkmanship.

Along the way, they reference 9/11 and the Oklahoma City bombing as a means of proving that President Bush was the real hero for staying the course. Because you may lose a few men, but you don't negotiate with lunatic thugs—you hang them.

As a bonus, the movie is so long and boring and bleak that your mind wanders to what happens when the next terrorists hit and you have to leave the city on foot and try to figure out the best way to kill your cats so that they don't suffer when you abandon them, and then you hope you die. The end. John McCain 2008.

And speaking of movies that America loves I will tell you what other movie was boring. The George Clooney Tilda Swinton lawyer movie that was all the rage. Michael Clayton I think it might have been called. The whole g-d movie was about a memo that, if the dude was so tortured about having, he could have just faxed anonymously. I mean the end. Why all the talky talk and the alleged acty-act? The Dark Knight forced me to relive this rage all over again.

Important Announcements

1. I am seven tans in and seriously getting INCREDIBLY golden brown. On the downside, my brain sort of started melting during my first nine-minute session. How do people do this for like 12 minutes? Your tips welcome. Also it's a stand-up booth and my arms get tired because I feel like I have to hold them up or my armpits might not get tan. Confusing stuff.

2. As both of my readers now know, I may be changing my job. This is very scary, but alas, it's hard to argue that your job is wonderful and satisfying when you have been voluntarily attending a remedial CHEMISTRY CLASS two nights a week. That is like saying your kidneys are totes fine and that you simply get dialysis "just in case." The good news is I'll be constantly stealing corporate secrets and insights about how to drive ever more traffic to the amazing Second Degree website. Seriously I think I can top 10 unique visitors a month, and then it's just a matter of hours before Google acquires me.

3. I got the first issue in my subscription to Positive Thinking magazine today. If you don't believe me, eff you. I love it! Read it if you want.

4. I'm really scared about a new job. I haven't had a regular commute since 2005.
4a. Fortunately I located an accelerated nursing program within driving distance of my parents' house. With an absolute worst case scenario backup plan in place, I think I can make the move.

Post-Fire Update

In my line of work as an estate attorney, I'm frequently asked about how one's possessions will be handled post-passage. Something I hear probably six or seven times a month is, "What happens if I die in a fire?"

Well, here are the basics. First, all your burnt stuff goes into trash bags (toward the right of the frame in the pic below). This is taken from above so it's tough to capture the real scale but basically there's a gigantic hill of bags. Then the fire marshals come dig through it for your bed frame (over on the left) and reassemble it to try to track down the origin of the fire. Click if you want a sense of just what a mess this is.

That sits around for a few weeks until all the insurance stuff is dealt with, and then finally a crew comes and hauls all your stuff into a two-car-long Dumpster.
Said Dumpster is then filled to overflowing, emptied out, and then filled to the brim again, this time with all the burnt debris from your apartment, which now looks like this when you walk in the front door.

In terms of both legacy planning and general horribleness, this is not advisable. So please, don't die in a fire.

Status Report: FAIL

Bad news, fellow Americans. I have been tanning three times on the suggested regimen and so far there is not much to show for it, just my regular purplish-undertoned pastitude.

Fortunately, I am an optimist, so I choose to view this as validation. I have probably said one thousand times in the last three years that I have a deep, dark olive complexion. Well, it turns out that I do! That's why I'm not tan yet or even burned—because the powerful UV cancer tan rays cannot penetrate my external shell of golden brown. DUH.

However, I have developed a (quite rational, I might add) fear of being trapped in a subterranean upright tanning booth during an earthquake or terrorist attack. So if you're looking for a way to kill me that I do not like, this is your lucky day.

Where Exactly is the New Location?

I took this picture in Times Square, which is located at about forth-fixth and Broadway.

Overheard at My Job

This was classic.

Girl on the phone with a restaurant: "I have a reservation tonight for 8, but there will be 9 of us now. Is that okay? No? But we can squeeze in, seriously, we're all really small. Nobody's over 100 pounds!"

Hot Hot Hot! Spring Cleaning Tip

Soooooo yesterday there was a fire in my building and I learned a hot new organizational tool for getting rid of clutter.

When you're trying to decide whether to trash/donate/keep a certain item, perhaps you could ask yourself:

1. Do I really need this?

If no, get rid of it. If you say "Well, I miiiiiiight," then ask yourself:

2. How will I feel if my apartment catches fire and firefighters throw this thing out the window, so it gets stuck in a tree for everyone to see...


...or if it winds up strewn across the street for the general public to peruse...


...or if it becomes part of a large pile being inspected by a pack of fire marshal types?


If the answer to any of those is, "Retarded," then you can afford to get rid of the item.

Overheard at a Shoe Store

"They don't want a woman and they don't want a black so it looks like John McClane is going to be our next president."

Um, I wish.

Movie Review/Crime Blotter

This evening I saw "Never Back Down," a delightful romp in the vein of "Step Up 2 the Streets." Both feature a kid with a dead parent, a youtube-based sport, an underground tournament publicized through text message, an authority figure who eventually supports their "art," and a third-act showdown in the parking lot of the official event. But on to the interesting stuff.

Walking to the theater, 42nd Street was mobbed as usual, except that everyone on the street was a brightly-dressed teenager. It was like being caught out front when a Broadway musical lets out except the musical was a public high school and the it was apparently an avenue block long. I don't mean a good chunk of kids I mean thousands and thousands and thousands of them. And there were police barricades and cops everywhere. A group of kids across the street started throwing up signs and yelling in unison, kids on our side of the street tipped over the barricades to run across, and cops came at them swinging batons to stay put. My friend and I made it into McDonald's just in time to be locked in as cops flew down the street to the action.

Ten minutes later, literally half of the kids had disappeared, and there were more cops out, telling everyone to keep it moving. With everything calm, I took the opportunity to ask a (SO hot) police officer wtf was going on. Only I phrased it as "Where did those thousands of people come from and what happened and where did they go?" Not wanting to give away any information, he coolly (hotly) replied, "What people?" I said "You know, there were people and then yelling and then police and then we got locked in a store." He asked where my friend and I were from and I explained five blocks away. Then he tried to (hotly) scoff, like, "Oh what, you've never been down here?" and I assured him that yes but it has never been crazy like that ever please explain.

So then he h-o-t-l-y says it is gang initiation night and to make it into a gang, kids have to grab a cop's gun, and it's probably not the best place to be hanging out. Which answers my question but hello I only have so many more!
1. Really?
2. Why tonight? Is this every Easter? Every first Sunday of Spring? Does it change every time? Does it get publicized over text message? Does this have something to do with youtube?
3. Seriously why Times Square and how did they know to pack the street right then? Is it an all-gang mixer? A national expo? I NEED to know these things, and they were NOT listed in Time Out New York.
4. WHERE DID ALL THE KIDS GO after they were told to move? Did they dissolve? Seriously it was astonishing.
5. That cop is hot.

PS When we came out of the movie, 42nd street was literally SHUT DOWN. No one was being allowed on the block. That is not normal.

I invite your insights and thank you for your time.

Pick-Up Line Overheard at Community College

"So... do you got any kids?"

The Truth About Internet Dating

From time to time, people will ask me if I have any "crazy internet dating stories," or respond to one of my tales with, "Have you thought about meeting guys another way than internet dating?"

I'm here to tell you that many of the best and brightest in my galaxy of losers were from real life.

I met the harmonica-playing comic through two friends. He arrived to our third date reeking of alcohol; had an out-loud debate with himself about whether he should have dinner (our plans were for 8 pm on Saturday); pounded Scotch, red wine, tequila, and beer through the course of the evening; took me to a bar where he "happened" to be scheduled to perform; bombed and then refused to get off stage and get into insult-wars with the audience instead; then had a meltdown about "why" I had to see this. He took me home on the subway, because guess what... he had another show to get to, where the same thing happened. The whole time he muttered, "I'm sweet on you" and rested his head on my shoulder. (Great idea for anyone dating a tall chick and hoping to make her feel Amazonian, btw.)

I met the poet at the ice rink where I sometimes skate–you know, doing what I love or whatever. His borderline/narcissistic/Asperger's constellation exploded when he called to cancel the date he'd asked me on, then un-cancel but with the caveat, "Okay, but we should part ways right after dinner," then un-changed his mind and tagged along on the plans I'd made to have a drink with a friend after. Also: vegan restaurant, and that godforsaken Romanian movie about abortion. Way to wow a lady. Oh, then it turns out he just got dumped by his fiance three weeks before we met, which is exactly when he decided to take up hockey at the out-of-the-way rink where she works. When I said it wasn't working for me he yelled that he was fine now, he only freaked out that one day because he was afraid I'd want to sleep with him. (After all his talk of antidepressant-related side effects, how could I not?) So why wouldn't I just give him a chance? I still get his e-mail newsletters.

I met Strawberry Mulroney at a bar—again, doing what I love. We had two dates in September and he continued to leave me 1 AM voice mails at work through the following February. He's the reason I have window guards now.

Just saying.