This Is Not 'Nam, There Are Rules...

Cotter's Rainy Day Rules (contextually limited to NYC):

1. Rain will usually be accompanied by wind.

2. Said wind will be blowing in a direction that allows the rain to fly diagonally under my umbrella, thus soaking me from the chest down. This leads me to firmly believe that no existing umbrella could shield my 6'2" frame from soakage.

3. I will almost always be listening to one of the following Snow Patrol tracks - "Open Your Eyes," "Chocolate," or "If There's A Rocket, Tie Me To It."

4. Some large number of assholes will have golf umbrellas that will inadvertently almost poke you in the eye. As a result, I have vowed that next time it rains, I'm using one of those parachutes from nursery school...you know which ones I'm talking about.

5. Chicks will be excited because they get to wear those cute rain boots they bought last weekend.

6. Even though rain above ground should have no effect on underground transportation, it will somehow screw up the Subway and PATH systems.

7. If you're planning on having lunch delivered, I suggest you order at 9:30 AM. Otherwise you won't eat until 3.

8. There will still be some douchebags wearing sunglasses. Probably on the Subway, too.

9. I've learned to always have an umbrella with me because on any given day, no matter how sunny it is when you leave in the morning, there's at least a 20% chance of rain (though some days it's me making it rain...HEYO!).

10. None of this would happen in sunny LA...[at least not in my mind, that is]

Care to share your Rainy Day Rules?

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!

Why I Hate to Love New York...

As you all well know, The Big Apple is currently my home. Well, technically across the river in Hoboken, NJ. But it's essentially the same thing, and either way I'm surrounded by Giants fans. So I figured today it might be apropos to talk a little bit about this fair city, the one that never sleeps, since we're playing the aforementioned vaGiants on Sunday.

Some days, I love this place. It's a marvel of modern construction. You meet tons of interesting people with interesting backgrounds, and you can get a falafel at just about any hour.

But it's not without its drawbacks. And some days I just want to take this plastic fork that's sitting next to my desk and stab myself in the eye with it...among other such uncomfortable exercises.

So as a little psuedo-therapy, I laid out some of the positives and negatives about this small town below. Peruse them at your will and feel free to share any and all feelings you have on the subject(s).

Things I Love...
1. What time is it? 1:45AM? Ah man, it's early, let's go to the bar.
2. Chicks. They have them here too. Hot ones. They're not into me at all. But they're fun to look at.
3. Pizza. They make dough, sauce and cheese sing here.
4. Never having to drive anywhere. Ever.
5. Long Island. Thank you for producing some of the most ridiculous people on the face of the earth (including my Mom).
6. The Knitting Factory. This place reminds me of the TLA in Philly, one of my all time favorite venues at which to see a show.
7. Delivery everything. My ass never needs to leave my couch if I don't want it to.
8. Yo, was that a chick or a dude?
9. The Beer Garden in Astoria. Best outdoor drinking venue EVER.
10. My Friend: Dude, that was Gavin Rossdale! || Me: Big deal, Gavin Rossdale sucks. Where's Gisele at? (Sidebar: This actually happened)

Things I hate...
1. Trying to walk on the sidewalks around here is like playing Frogger.
2. 0.5 second hesitation at green light = permanent migraine brought on by incessant honking.
3. No, I do not want your inferior cable service, but I have no choice, do I?
4. Yeah, my new place is really sweet, man. I've got 600 square feet and I only pay $1600 a month! (Sidebar: this is not a true statement for me)
5. I think Hoboken could really use a Wawa. Like a block from my house. That'd be awesome, thanks.
6. Dude, walking six inches behind me is not going to get you there any faster!
7. The Yankees. But to be fair, I'd hate them no matter where I live.
8. Humidity. From May to October this place is like a god damn sauna.
9. $11 for a Tanqueray and Tonic? Hold on, let me go see if I can sell some blood.
10. Hipsters. You know, the ones that go out of their way to be indie. These people should be exiled to Staten Island.

Thoughts?