Bloomberg’s Ass, Nosy Neighbors and More Nonsense

I’m not sure if it’s because women are wearing less clothes and have great summer sunglows or because men have their guns out and want extra attention, but something about the summer really made the overcommentarians crawl out of the woodwork.

At least these comments are SO bad that they’re funny.

1. “Your ass is as big as Bloomberg’s”
A friend and I are strutting along in Chelsea when a passerby says, “Dayum, your ass is as big as Bloomberg’s!”

We look at each other in confusion — not only because we have no clue just how big a Bloomberg ass is, but because we BOTH have big asses and aren’t sure to which of us he’s speaking. I contend that since we’re in Chelsea on our way back from Park, the man had to be referring to my friend’s ass. My friend insists the man looked straight, plus, we were next to the projects, so clearly he was talking about thine ass.

I reluctantly agree that the man was probably referring to me. And I still have no idea how big Bloomberg’s ass is.

2. “And Tina just continued to party on!”
A pipe burst in my condo building one night (I’m on the condo board). Multiple people were handling the situation, including two other board members, the super AND the fire department.

Yet this wasn’t enough for my freakshow of a neighbor who requires so much attention that her husband deserves sainthood. Apparently, I, as Board president, was expected to be on the scene as well (will a nail file be helpful?)

She sends an email to the ENTIRE building complaining that I was “partying” while all this went down — and reported the time I returned from said party. OMG, she had to call the fire department herself! She could have died!

Forget Mrs. Roper or Mrs. Kravitz, those nosy neighbors have nothing on this bitch.

3. “Awww! you’re on your honeymoon!” 

My huzzband, apparently.

A street vendor shouted this to my friend and I in Cancun. When we say no, he says, “Just practicing then?”

Dude, you have absolutely no read on body language. We are not coupled up or touching and my companion has on pink “show pony” shorts.

 4. “Women are reading those 50 Shades of Grey books and fantasizing about it, but when faced with the real thing, they don’t know what to do.”

I assume you think you’re the real  thing. Is that why you posted a photo of yourself posed with your car? And another with your refrigerator? That alone should be enough to disqualify you, but you are also not hot, young or rich. You are no Christian Grey, my friend.

5. “Can I borrow your salt?”
I’m in SoHo having breakfast outside after a workout (I was a mess but thankfully in a Lululemon outfit). Guy walks by and we make the briefest eye contact. Moments later, he walks by again. Finally, the third time, he approaches and says “Can I borrow your salt?”

I oblige with a smile, trying not to laugh, wondering what he’d say next. He follows up with a huge sigh and, “That was so lame, I’m embarrassed.”

Dude, if you’re gonna go in, at least TRY to close.

6. “Do you like seamen?”
Fleet week. This one kicked off a night of the worse pick-up lines. Ever. I know they’ve been on a boat for months, but that should give them plenty of time to come up with ways to avoid lameness.

This ranks up there with the demand for me to “Smile.” Or calling me “Princess. Or asking “Can I have your number.” And just as bad as summoning me with a “Spp.” Ask any woman alive and guarantee she’s doesn’t want to hear it.

50 Shades of CrossFit Training Zombies

There are three things that I’m going to need people to stop talking about: 50 Shades of Grey, CrossFit training and zombies.


Monster High's Ghoulia Yelps

Monster High’s Ghoulia Yelps — the only Zombie I like.

My feeling about this: Fear. Here’s why:

Ever since my sleepless-due-to-nightmares summer as a seven year old when I saw both Invasion of the Body Snatchers and Damien the Omen, I have had an irrational fear of non-human (admittedly fictional) things that can seem human, the only exception being vampires — maybe because they are usually sexy.

Now with the increased popularity of zombies — I blame The Walking Dead, the question “What would we do if the zombie apocalypse happened?” is a frequent cocktail conversation, followed by “Where’s the safest place to be in NYC if it happens?”

The other night, a group of friends agreed that the High Line was the place to go to survive.  They had good reasoning about being able to grow food, restrict entrance and push the zombies off the High Line (Can zombies climb?). But there are buildings attached to the High Line. Most of them with lots of glass that the zombies could just come busting through!

I don’t have a better alternative though. In Brooklyn, in your escape attempt, you’d either trip over a stroller or have the misfortune of being the biggest and slowest-moving person, and thus tastiest treat, in a hipster Mecca.

Maybe the place to be is Far Rockaway? Zombies wouldn’t go all the way there, right? The A train, when running, usually requires a shuttle transfer and zombies are just not smart enough to figure all that out. And probably even they are afraid of the Van Wyck. So that’s MY plan. Far Rockaway.

CrossFit Training

My feeling about this: Jealousy. Here’s why: 

Everyone is doing CrossFit training. And although I’m in a fitness phase, I can barely do a friggin’ pushup so I can’t even join in.

As much as I’m trying to improve, the situation is not changing quickly.  I’ve seen significant progress in what I can do in some of my fitness classes. I can do most binds in yoga and even now tuck my foot on my inner thigh in Tree pose. I’m even feeling like a pro during lunge intervals. Yet, I still can’t do Chatarunga or a decent set of push-ups.

I must have some kind of strange mutant arms. So that disqualifies me from CrossFit Training. And I don’t want to talk about it.

50 Shades of Grey

My feeling about this: Annoyance. Here’s why: 

Everybody is reading and talking about this book. I LOVED the SNL skit about it. I like the book cover. I even like the title.

But I HATE this book.

The writing is TERRIBLE. Yes, I know it’s not supposed to be literature. But this woman has no writing skill whatsoever. And apparently she doesn’t even have an editor. I’m not expecting Toni Morrison here, but at least she could have the same level of competence as any popular chick lit authors like Marian Keys or Sophie Kintella.

These are actual quotes from this book:

  • “My mouth drops open.” (Said 15 times and not at all related to a sex act.)
  • “Holy hell…what’s this about?”
  • “Holy cow – he’s leading me on to the dance floor.”
  • “Holy hell, he’s been working out.”
  • “This is wrong, but holy hell is it erotic.”
  • “Holy Moses — he’s ordered oysters on a bed of ice.’”
  • “Oh, for the love of all that’s holy.”
  • “Holy crap…I need to take my pill”

And then there are plenty more holy cow, holy shit and holy crap’s. No exaggeration. I admit, I haven’t read much of this book. Once I quickly discovered that the main character was so unlikeable (she’s insecure, clumsy, jealous of her best friend/roommate — great, another Bella), I started skipping around for the sex scenes. The first scene was okay. Although the unimaginative author made the girl a virgin which means that no matter what this man does (or what size he actually is), she will be amazed at his prowess.  But after the first sex scene, they were all the same. Not. That. Hot.

I have a recommendation ladies, try Zane’s books. They are mediocre at best, but at least she can write dialogue. There might, maybe, possibly also be movies you would enjoy.