Hello, I'm a Mad Ma--I mean Mac!

I have a cold, I'm tired, and I've had writer's block but nothing will stand in my way of writing this post!!!

So...a week ago my friend Gem and I were at Best Buy in Union Square looking at laptops and, of course, I gave her the best advice ever: Get a Mac! As I was explaining to her why Mac's are great, a caucasian man in his early 40's interjected:
"Mac's are the best! Don't get a PC--they're more prone to viruses and aren't as easy to use."

We looked up and smiled. He continued, "Let me introduce myself, I'm the next Vice President Jeff Stephens*, look me up online." He shook our hands and then looked at Gem very seriously and suddenly asked her a series of VERY personal questions: "What's your name?" "What church do you go to?" "Where do you live?"

I wanted to interject, but he stopped--robot-like--and then asked us to look at a YouTube page where people "were talking about him." (okay...so this was when I knew something was wrong with this guy, but it gets better). He pointed to a list of comments on a video that he didn't let us watch--the "comments," which I'm sure he wrote, didn't make any sense.

"I'm in D.C. a lot. I'm part of the Black Panthers too. Google me. You'll see my name and picture come up with the Black Panthers!" I slowly started to walk away at this point while I wondered if any caucasians were ever part of the black panthers, but Gem was still standing next to him!

I said, "Gem, we got to go!" I looked at the man and said, "Thank you, sir, bye!"
Then he continued, "I'm for Civil Rights!" and he lifted up his right arm waving his fist.

As I turned away, a female employee asked me, "Is he bothering you?"
"That guy is crazy!" I said.
"I'm calling security," she said annoyed.

Have you ever seen a person get escorted out of a store just for being a lunatic? It takes A LOT of manpower. Managers were on their walkie talkies, the staff was whispering, about 5 guys all came together to "discreetly" take him away. Supposedly this guy goes to every Best Buy in the city and plays on the Macs. You gotta love his true loyalty to the brand, but for knowing so much about modern technology, how can he be stuck in the 50's!?

*Name was changed for privacy.

The Global Citizen Project

Shameless plug begins...now:

My husband and I have been working on an art project we developed called the Global Citizen Project, which depicts the global footprint of New York City residents through photo-realistic portraiture and first-person narratives. The art series magnifies immigration and the global diaspora of race, ethnicity, religion, and culture that enhance New York City.

Chris took candid photos of chosen Global Citizens while they were interviewed about their life and why they chose to live in New York City by me. The composition for each portrait was inspired by the photo shoot, life story, and personality of his subjects. The narratives retell life experiences, such as being a first or second-generation immigrant, religious exploration, entrepreneurial success, and his/her love affair with New York City.

If you know anyone who would be interested in attending our opening reception on January 9 or who would like to write about this project, please pass this info along! See art show details below, also they can contact me directly at cielo[at]nubiaduvall.com. We are so excited about the show and finally sharing this project with the art world! Thanks for your support!

Artist: Christopher J. Wilson – www.paintwilson.com
Gallery: New Century Artists, 530 West 25th Street, #406 (as part of Impressions)
Opening Reception: Saturday, January 9, 2010, 3 PM to 6 PM
Exhibition dates and hours: January 6, 2010 to February 6, 2010, Tues to Sat, 11 AM to 6 PM

Riding with the Rude and Shameless

When I left work last Tuesday, all I wanted to do was have a quiet evening...

Unfortunately, it wasn't quiet during my subway ride home. My neighbor and I were giggling as we painfully endured a man's whistling, stomping, and clinging of his gaudy ring against the pole to some imaginary music in his head.

"God, I've had a rough day and just can't stand this!" she said to me.
"I know--he's made his own 3-piece band over there; so annoying!" I said and then looked up, most nearby were giving the guy dirty looks.
She continued, "My friends in the suburbs drive to work, they listen to their own music and don't have to worry about swine flu in their car. We in the city have to deal with so much--why do we do it?"

While I tried to think of an answer, I remembered a scary news story from last week: a man stabbed someone on the uptown express D train (my old line!); riders huddled in a corner and waited in fearful silence for 30 minutes, locked in the train car with the murderer until the police arrived. Maybe that's why we like New York City--it's usually clear who the maniacs are.

O Laundry Where Art Thou?

I haven't done laundry since 2006. We don't have a washer/dryer and my neighborhood has no nearby laundromats, so we drop it off.  Up until last week, I loved the fact that I didn't deal with our dirty drawers until things went a-missin'! I marched up to "All Washed Up" and gave them my list of complaints:

Clothes We Are Missing!
1. Pair of men's Gap blue jeans, $50
2. Tan women's blazer, $30
3. Pair of Zara skinny jeans,$50
4. Two blue towels
5. Multiple socks and underwear
6. One tan towel

Items Received That Aren't Ours!
1. Grey sweatshirt (returned)
2. A pair of red thongs (returned)
3. Two light green towels (keeping)
4. One navy blue baby sock (threw away)

Unhappy Customers

Next up, pass out "Have you seen these clothes?" flyers in front of the shop. I'm on a mission!

Trigger Happy

Besides having a stressful work day that involved having FedEx pick up a shipment from a DHL warehouse, I was running late for my doctor's appointment, i.e., appt. was at 3:40 pm, which was the time I left my office! The office said: "If you don't get here by 4 pm, the doctor will leave."

The first cab I tried to jump in had a paying customer that was taking FOREVER to leave. So, I used my nifty taxi hailing reflexes to get another cab and jumped in! "3rd Ave and 80th please! I'm in a rush!" I yelped.
"My credit card machine doesn't work, is that okay?" asked the driver as he sped up 6th Ave and 37th. I looked in my wallet--$8.00, darn! Instead of getting out, I said, "I'll just have to use a ATM machine once we get there."

The news flashed on the cab's TV screen; normally when the credit card function doesn't work, the TV doesn't either...but it was. "Are you sure your machine doesn't work?" I asked.
He replied, "Well, if you try it later and it works, you pay me double, if it doesn't work, you pay nothing!" he said, laughing.

"Um...so does it work or not?" I asked suspiciously.  He paused, then finally answered, "Look, this isn't my cab."

Jesus Christ. I looked at my watch, it was 3:55 pm and we were finally heading through Central Park to the east side. "So is that why you don't want to use the credit card machine? Because you won't get the money?" I asked. He didn't answer.

I looked at the meter, it read $7.59. We were at the intersection of 73 and 3rd Ave. I knew I had no time to go to an ATM and make it to the doctor. I pulled my money out and asked, "Can you just let me out here? I will run the rest of the way. I only have $8.00."
"Don't worry, just give me what you have. I'll take you the rest of the way." he said nonchallantly.

45 minutes later, I was in patient room #4 and had just received a steroid injection in my right hand for "trigger finger," modernly dubbed "texting tendinitis" (I Googled it). So my new LG Rumor that slides up for "ease" of texting has done me wrong. I wonder if I can get out of work on disability?

Good Will to Good Riddance

It was time to get rid of some clothes I never wear--instead of throwing them away, I decided to donate them to a thrift store in my neighborhood. Should be easy to do, right? Wrong.

I didn't even make it through the doors of thrift store #1 because there was a sign that read: "Not accepting any donations. We are full. No exceptions." Wow, I thought, I guess times are so tough all the Upper East Siders are hard pressed to get a tax break!

I then walked over to third avenue and 82nd street and tried thrift store #2. "You missed the donation hours. It's until 1 pm on Saturdays."
I asked, "What about during the week?" "11 am to 3 pm on weekdays," the worker replied.

I was feeling dejected. As I waddled up the street with my big, white trash bag full of clothes, I decided to try one more time. Determination! I walked into thrift store #3 and a sales rep directed me to the donation area in the back. I approached the woman and she said dryly, "It's too late."
"Well, the guy in the front said it was okay," I said with an attitude. The sales woman sighed, annoyed. "Look," I said, "do you want the donation or not? I'm not going to force you!"
"Okay...let me see what you have..." she replied.

Five minutes later, the woman accepted half of my goods and gave me a tax receipt. What an ordeal--only in New York City do you have to be a salesman to donate to thrift stores!

NJ Transit - No Where Better To Go?

It's always a culture shock when I leave the city after two days and then return. I was in "the country" (as my sister-in-law loves to call it) of central Jersey this weekend--it was nice to get away, but it was quite a task to get there.

Although we ran, we missed our connection in Newark (thank you conductor for telling us the wrong track), then spent 45 grueling minutes among the friendly inhabitants of Newark--one in particular was very excited to let everyone know she wanted to "Kill people!....Crazy people too!"

"Change for coffee?" another local asked the hubby, who took one whiff of the intoxicated panhandler and decided not to contribute to his Irish coffee addiction.

Alas, we returned to Manhattan on Sunday. As we rode on the 6 train from 59th and Lex, a man sitting in front of us yelled at a boy by the back door, "Is that bothering you or something?!" Hubby and I couldn't see what the kid was doing since his back was to us, so we immediately thought he was pissing! God no! We lifted our feet and moved our bags.

When we walked off the train, I turned around and noticed the "don't lean on door" sticker was removed from the back door; I was relieved, and for a split second I thought, "Is that all he was doing?" Newark taught me scarier things can happen outside of the subways of NYC.