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April 18, 2004

i would like to be completely honest

because I am on sudafed sinus and just got out of a 10 hour nyquil induced haze, i have decided to be completely honest. I know, bad idea. oh well, what're you going to do?

1. I hate my job and would like it to go away.
I hate you, job. I hate how you expect ridiculous things out of me that are way above my skill level. I hate how you want me to be a fourth year but pay me a first year's salary. I hate how you yell at me when I get things wrong that I didn't know how to do in the first place and you wouldn't explain to me. I hate how you leave me to unwind a company that is holding tens of millions of our clients' money when I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I hate how you're always hanging over my head, even on good days, waiting for one typo. I hate your dishonesty, feigned concern, and ridiculous hours. Go to hell. (As an aside: I hate the clients, too. Oh, you want a set of closing documents? Hmm, that's nice. Hey, maybe if you actually sent me your signature pages after I've been asking for them for two fucking months I could send you a fucking closing set. Morons.)

2. I hate Williamsburg.
Fuck you, you fucking new wave/mod/faggy/euro trash/japanese/funk/artiste/nyu hipster assholes. Get off my sidewalk selling the tea pot your mom gave you when you got your first apartment in Madison, WI at college and your homemade t-shirts. Stop buying $100 sweatshirts at Brooklyn industries, impeding my walk to the laundromat. And, hey, if you didn't wear those awesome 70s aviator sunglasses at 11pm at night, maybe you'd be able to see me before I have to collide with you and call you a fuckwad hipster!

3. I hate the subway.
Yo, racist little latino girls (or, as the case may be, 28 year olds) go harass some Hasidim and leave me the hell alone. May I suggest "Look at all the Yentl motherfuckers on this train!" Assholes who lean against the pole/hug the pole to read the Wall Street Journal: you love that pole so much, how'd you like it up your ass? People who try to push on the train before people get off: yes, I did body check you on purpose, and I will do it again, so learn your lesson and get some respect. Hey, bookworm! That book's really good, huh? Well if you keep reading it while walking up the stairs from the platform during rush hour, I'm going to take it and beat you with it so hard that you'll be able to read if off your body because the text is going to be imprinted there. Finally, to the bike guys on the L train (I don't think I've opined on the bike guys before): I have an idea. If you have to ride your back in Manhattan, how about you ride it there? We have these nifty things called bridges, and in fact, we have three! Williamsburg, Manhattan, and Brooklyn: use them. If I have to be pressed up against one more fucking greasy chain or some dog shit encrusted tire so that for some bizarre fucking reason you can ride your bike up broadway, I'm going to have to start shooting bikers. I'm sorry, that's just the way it is.

4. I hate the war, and I hate George W. Bush.
The New York times hides the body count deep within its pages. I think it should be on the front page, in 36 point font: "Here's how many Americans died today for George W. Bush:". Good job, old boy.

5. I hate feeling second-class.
I hate feeling like my relationship is cute, or revolutionary, or anti-establishment, or a sin against god, etc--anything but normal and worthy of as much respect you'd give any other male-female people in their 20s relationship of almost 2 years (which granted, may not be much. so be it.). I hate explaining myself. I hate feeling like I should take whatever I get from people because it's all I should expect. I hate knowing that one day my dumbass brother (sorry. but he is a dumbass. a nice one, but still a dumbass.) will get married to some dumbass girl and it will be the best thing ever, and I will get married (or whatever the state I'm living in decides I'm allowed to do at that point in time) to C and will generally get nodding and "hmm hmm"ing from people. Do I want to have a big wedding where people will spend at least 4 hours (wedding plus reception) acting as though C and I are god's gift to the world, may we prosper and multiply? Maybe not. But I'd llike the fucking option.

6. I hate feeling guilty when I order a drink at a bar.
I am 26. And a lawyer. And if you think my license is fake, call the police. (which someone actually took me up on once. The police confirmed my license was real and the bitch STILL threatened to throw me out after they left.)

7. I hate New York City.
I hate Times Square. I hate tourists. I hate native New Yorkers who think 4 people live in Iowa and all they do is grow corn and fuck cows. I hate ugg boots. I hate bike messengers, and their less evolved brethern, the food delivery men on the bike. I hate cab drivers and their near universal willingness to spew their hatred for america and americans onto anyone with the audicity to to ask them to go some place that isn't above houston, below 96th (or Laguardia. They seem to be ok with Laguardia. Don't suggest JFK, though, you dirty heathen american). Have I mentioned how much I hate the subway? I hate the term "on line". Where is the line you are standing on? There isn't one. Stop it. I hate how 50% of the people who live here are just waiting for a confrontation, and will actively seek one out if one doesn't just happen upon them. I hate the burning pretzel smell that tells you a pretzel/hotdog cart is coming a mile away. I hate rats, roaches, hipsters and all other types of vermin. I hate that there are so many people here that my grades, my schools, my accomplishments will never be impressive--there will always be someone (usually an employer. In this case, a few of my employers) who are looking only for the Harvard and Yale grad, no matter what their grades are. I hate the NY Post. I hate grocery stores so tiny that they only stock one type of ketchup.

8. I hate myself for being so __________
Uptight. Crabby. Angry. Worried. Stuck in this city. Afraid. Tired. Bored. Boring. Wimpy. Short. Apparently under 21 looking. Unassuming. Not proactive. Sick all the time. Into drinking. Into smoking. Into generally self-medicating. Blah.

I would like some of C's spunk (I hate that word, but I think that pretty much sums up what she has: spunk) and outgoingness (know that's not aword). R's surliness (no, I don't have enough of my own). C2's odd, super-human ability to let every roll off him like it's nothing (I know, I know, I should read Tao of Pooh again). T2's "so today I really fucked up. Oh well, one day I'm going to go off on them and get fired and I don't care" attitude. Both D's professionalism, and her ability to scare people into submission (especially any sort of customer service employee). L's faith in humanity and God. I's -- I don't know. I just miss I. RRC's sense of adventure (but not her taste in music. No, never that).

Thanks. Please note: There are things I do love about New York (including the ability to body check someone and call them a fucking moron without being arrested for assault! Oh, and the bagels.) but I'm not feeling them today. Perhaps I'm having Nyquil Rage (you know, like 'Roid Rage? Nevermind). One day perhaps I'll post about the good things, but I'm not feeling like it today.

Posted by me at April 18, 2004 08:53 AM

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Comments

Posted by: .... at April 18, 2004 11:25 AM

Posted by: . . . at April 20, 2004 11:50 AM

Posted by: me at April 20, 2004 01:36 PM

Posted by: rrc at April 20, 2004 02:36 PM

Posted by: monkey at April 20, 2004 05:00 PM

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