Speaking of Moving Your Ass

So, hours after my last snarky post, I am reading on the train en route to my shadowy lair. Suddenly, a gloom-filled voice crackles over the PA system. "Attention Passengers, Attention! A suspicious package has been found on this train. We are evacuating this train, NOW! Please exit this train, NOW!"

Wow.

9/11 wasn't so long ago that New Yorkers don't haul ass at the mention that they may be in danger. The fleeing torrent of humanity had taken me 100 yards away from the train in 40 flat.
In their collective defense, they did act nonchalant and bitch loudly about it, once they were a safe distance away.

I imagine that thirty minutes later, the bomb squad blew some poor lady's cashmere purchases to kingdom come....(And if you remember from yesteryear, the cashmere is more dangerous)...

Ah well. Safety first. Even if it means reminding you that you COULD DIE AT ANY MINUTE!!!

SA

New York Is Not For Lovers

If you ever met me (which is unlikely as I am garbed in comforting shadows) you would probably be assume that, despite my best efforts, I am a nice guy. Six months ago, I would always hold the door open for you, regardless of gender. I always say "please" and "thank you," generally remember birthdays and anniversaries well, and try to be a helpful human being. I generally hold back the biting wit and dark thoughts, reserved for close friends and outlets such as this.

Skip ahead six months...

New York City. The Concrete Jungle. The City That never sleeps, etc. etc...

8.11 AM.

When the train doors (known as subway doors to you) creak open, I move my ass. Thousands of other well-dressed lemmings are pouring from every orifice on the train, and there is only one outlet on my 53rd and Lexington stop: a three story climb to the surface, either via escalators or some steep-ass stairs. No one is talking, everyone is just queuing into the funnel to begin our ascent. Every morning, I hum "Sixteen Tons"to myself as I climb step after step as fast as I can.

Once we hit the surface, free to go out separate ways, I break from the herd and hustle towards my office, slightly bent over, as if I am heading into a strong wind. My head down, I just move with the flow of other proletariat pedestrians. Every body knows their place in this dance, and we pull it off without flaw.

Until this:
The Thundering Herd screeches to a halt, blocked by these looky-loo lovers. They stroll right down the middle of the sidewalk, shambling aimlessly along, gawking at the sights surrounding them. "Look honey, a falafel cart, and over there, a faux handbag stand, and if we look in the nearby store windows, it's the exact same crap we can buy just about anywhere else we might be in our homogenized society. Neat!" (I may be paraphrasing)

They are completely oblivious to the pile-up of humanity they have created with their bottleneck.

My eyes dart quickly about, looking for an outlet to slip past. My only choices are edging past them by the dirty and sharp edged ubiquitous scaffolding on the right, or certain death by oncoming traffic on the left. I shuffled behind the slowpokes, seething at the delay.

Finally, as I was about to attempt human "Frogger" with the traffic, another trenchcoated denizen of the city just snapped, and said what I was thinking. "Fucking Move!!" he growled, and the startled tourists parted, and the logjam flowed between them.

As I slid past at my customary pace, I caught the woman's eye, and with a knowing look and small nod, she comprehended my meaning on my kind, nice guy face. Welcome to New York, stay outta my way, or I'll shank you. . .

I think I AM becoming a New Yorker!

SA

Circus Nomore Us

Hello Blogosphere. I'm back. Wow. Harder than I thought to just show up here and say that.

Let's see...what's new? Ahh yes, about three months after my last post, I was called up to the Big Show. In NYC now, shepherding a flock of of SEO/SEM geeks. My people. Same job, but now for clients all well known globally.

I'm sure I could blather on about the things that have happened in the meanwhile, but if I cover it, I'll go into a "flashback" post.


The main reason to return is to draw attention to and mourn the loss of a cultural icon: Circus Animals has gone on to that three-ring circus in the sky. Since childhood, this colorful treat has comforted me, and many a frosted little animal has met their end in my gullet. My parents would never buy me something this garish and delicious, they were more of the macaroon type of folk. (*Urp*) I can't even say the word "macaroon" (*Urp*) without gagging. . . They may not have been high-flautin' cookies, but I would like to think of them as Redneck Ambrosia.


When I first lived on my own, this was my treat of choice, partly for their buttery goodness, partly because I couldn't afford Oreos.

Now the end has come my friends. The economy has claimed a new victim. Their parent company, Mother's has closed their doors. They cite the cost of sugar and flour skyrocketing, but I know the real reason. I haven't bought a bag of them for five years.



I'm sorry I let you down, Circus Animals. I'll miss the frosted goodness and sprinkles to lick off my hand...

Of course, by NOT eating these trashy delectables, I will most live longer. I just won't enjoy it as much...


SA

P.S. Some other blogs of concerned citizens lamenting the fate of Circus Animals:

Dessert First

The Naked Loon

Baking Bites

P.P.S. Thank you for all the nice posts and well-wishes from my readers over this last year. Sorry I never responded to them, and there were quite a few more of you other there than I even dreamed of.

I Quietly Slink Back. . .

With no announcement and little fanfare, I quietly slink back. I want to thank each and every one of you who commented or sent me an email, and wished me well. I was terribly sick with this cold/flu combo pack (anyone who has had it this season can testify,) and it knocked me flat. But that is not the only reason I have been absent. . .

A bit of a tough holiday season for me and mine, and I just didn't know how (or want)to present it in a blog format I was comfortable with.

My spouse and I are enduring the trials of infertility, and the ordeal of in vitro. This was our third time with no success, and it has been tough to find ways to console her in this time of personal grief. There are of course bigger and more horrible things to endure in this life, but this has been the biggest one so far for my marriage, and not really sure how to describe the tough spots we are navigating through. . .like commercials about babies every two minutes, parents melting down on their kids while shopping, forced close contact with family during the holidays while getting the inevitable incessant "How'd it go? How'd it go?" All served as reminders of a life we most likely will never have.



All of this was expected and frankly, unavoidable. But I could not find a way to be snarkily musing while really bummed out. I remember how sad I was when one of my favorite bloggers, The Domestic Minx, just dropped off the face of the earth. I thought to myself that something very tragic must have happened to abandon her loyal fans, otherwise we would have heard by now. After I dropped off for awhile, it became clear how easy it was to let go while I hid out.

If it is any small consolation, you loyal readers are not the only ones I have been ducking. I don't think I have made more than one public appearance since Jan 1st, much to the annoyance and chagrin of my pool of loyal friends.

I apologize to those of you who came to be entertained, there are enough blogs on personal pain that I wanted to create something different, and I have not been able to be true to that end. However, if you bear with me, I shall slowly return to my former fun self.

Rereading this, not my best post ever, but hey, I'm rusty. Sue me.


SA

P.S. For those few who were looking to contact me directly, the best way will still be sarcasmabounds AT gmail.com. This will forward to where ever I am.