A Little Afternoon Nonsense...

So here's a somewhat stupid post for you.

My mom was born and raised on Long Island, NY. As a result, she feels like she's some sort of expert on Manhattan. Maybe she is, maybe she isn't. I guess that depends on your perspective. But a handful of years ago, when I informed her of my intention to move to this bustling metropolis, her response was something like - "you're a country boy, you'll never fit in there" (or "never make it there" or something to that effect). It was said jokingly, but I have to think she meant it to a degree and she definitely used the words, "country boy." Nevertheless, here I am, a "country boy" in the middle of this fair city, just trying to make my way.

Still, living here my "countryness" (which is really a bunch of bullshit anyhow) does get the better of me sometimes (although this could just as easily be categorized as "being a reasonable human being"). Specifically, when I'm on the Subway. You wouldn't even believe how annoying the process of riding this damn thing is sometimes. Take morning and afternoon rush hour, for example. Those of you in LA will feel me in a different way, but here's usually how this process goes...

Step 1 - Get stuck behind a pack of the slowest people on Earth while descending to the turnstile level. These people are usually lined up like paper dolls, thus forming a makeshift human wall which makes it humanly impossible to get around them lest you have the ability to make a 6 foot vertical leap.

Step 2 - While attempting to make it through the turnstile to the platform, get cut off by at least 2-3 people who clearly think they're more important and wherever they have to go is clearly more important than where you have to go (and unfortunately, it's probably NOT their shrink's office).

Step 3 - Train arrives, doors open, and here's what you're faced with...

The key here is to find that sliver of daylight, lower your shoulder and straight muscle your way through (this part is always the hardest for my scrawny ass).

Step 4 - Try not to touch ANYTHING or ANYONE. Some people also wear painters/surgeons masks and/or latex gloves. I'm not that crazy.

Step 5 - Once you arrive at your stop, doors open and here's what you're faced with (only imagine they're on the other side of the door). Repeat Step 3, Part II and lower that shoulder.


Step 6 - Get stuck behind a pack of the slowest people on Earth while ascending to the street level. Often, these people will have cut you off getting out of the train, which you will assume means they intend to walk as quickly as possible to the street. You, of course, will be wrong.

Step 7 - Even if you've touched nothing, wash your hands at your earliest convenience. If you get off the train relatively far from your humble abode, I recommend carrying hand sanitizer, or alternatively, you can find a puddle and use the radioactive waste looking substance you find therein to wash the VD off your hands. Otherwise, you run the serious risk of contracting some rare monkey virus that has made it's way around the city from Battery Park to the Upper East Side (and probably to Jersey...actually, it probably came from Jersey, but that's a separate issue altogether).

And that's really how it's done, more or less. I'm told once you are able to master this process without noticing any of Steps 1-7, you can finally categorize yourself as a "New Yorker." Here's to hoping that day never comes for me!

Matt, I know you feel me on this one...

One final thing - If anyone would particularly like to be on the panel this week for Meeting People Is Easy, drop me an email like it's hot. That's onefortheotherthumb@gmail.com. You can make the Subject line - "You are the worst blogger on the internet and you should probably knock this douchebaggery off immediately...and also, I want to be on this week's panel...dick." Cheers!

Amos Zereoue - What's Up With His Life?

Well, I'll tell you.

Thanks to Crain's New York Business, just about the last place I'd expect to find Amos Zereoue (after the NFL, ba dum ching), I now know that Zereoue's the proud owner, proprietor, host and occasional chef at his namesake restaurant, Zereoue, in Manhattan.

Apparently the restaurant serves "West African" cuisine, it's on 37th St. between 5th and Madison Ave., and Zeroue recently "greeted" another Pittsburgh alum, Plexiglass Burress for a nice little dinner. The writer who reviewed the place said overall, "Amos Zereoue might be a fish out of water, but maybe a flying fish," as he gave the place two stars, which in Crain's world means, "Very Good."

All I'm wondering is, who's he got on broil? Chris Fuamatu-Ma'afala?

Awesome.

Tec, we gotta check this establishment out.

/Yes, I read Crain's New York Business...don't judge me...there were no US Weekly's available in my office today.