Everything in NYC is smaller to accommodate 8 million + people in not enough space- apartments, grocery stores, dogs. I was just in my corner market last week which has carts made to hold a maximum of 2 boxes of cereal and aisles that give a whole new meaning to the idea of bumper cars. When standing in the checkout line I noticed a new convenient little corner set up with goodies galore- 6-packs, bags of chips, Muscle Milk, toothpaste, basically a one-stop-shop for all things unhealthy yet contrastingly necessary. Not until I saw the sign plastered in the middle of this arrangement did I get perturbed; it had been labeled "The Man Shelf". I'm no feminist, but I am a girl with lots of things to do and no time to weave in and out of shuffling pedestrians to get my weekly goods. I would appreciate a section geared towards women as well to keep my trip to a 5 minute max. You know, the staples- pinot grigio, Wheat Thins, Vitamin Water and tampons. While we're at it, better throw in a frozen section for that new Ben & Jerry's Greek Frozen Yogurt, clearly that goes hand in hand with the tampons.
For the many things seen throughout the day which make you wonder out loud how people can be so very strange, this blog is an outlet to voice your concerns for our generally insane society.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Monday, August 6, 2012
No, you cannot panhandle in public
Manhattan is full of panhandlers; if you've ever walked down Canal Street you can clearly vouch for this statement. Usually though, the realistic fakes are hidden behind a door, down an alley, past the hanging chickens, up a dark stairwell- three knocks and a whistle later you'll find yourself a Pucci purse for a 1/4 of the real thing. While walking through Herald Square last weekend my afternoon stroll was interrupted by a block worth of bag thieves and a gaggle of tourists aiding them in breaking the law. Purses were sprawled out all over sheets on the side of 6th avenue; the unassuming travelers didn't stand a chance. Who can pass up a counterfeit handbag that has been massaged with the scent of car emissions and splashed with the omnipresent trash juice of New York City? A housewife from Iowa surely cannot.
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