Dear Cablevision, we still hate you.

I can't gchat at work anymore, so NLG and I email constantly (as if we DON'T live together).

Backstory: For the 4th time since we've lived there, our internet has failed. The amount of time that we've been out of wireless has probably totaled close to two months.

WE HATE CABLEVISION.


Here's a sample of our email frenzy.

Me: cable guy is currently on our roof. i hate them. could not understand him.

NLG: i swear to god if this is not fixed i am going to go postal.

Me: i was thinking, today, or if this happens again, our threat (to cablevision) will be that we are going to get our landlord and neighborhood involved and file a suit against cablevision for monopolizing our cable/internet ability. then we should threaten to call the city and request that we have a different service provider.

in reality it's far fetched, but i'm so over it. and that's a scary threat

NLG: I don't think they will care, really. I'll call them today and deal with the bill situation. Can you send me their number?

Happy Halloween

It's 3:15 am (what felt like 4:15am because of daylight savings time). I am by myself (dumb) going home from the most amazing Halloween with the most perfect group ever. (I went to RUSH, if you've never been and are extremely comfortable with your sexuality--whatever it may be--you should go, and dance your ass off.) I am sitting in the Atlantic Avenue station to get on my train. It took a long time for it to come.

Just before it arrived I see these two men. They were about 25. One, who we'll call Shades, was just about functioning and the other, we'll call him Dude, was blacked out, barely walking. Shades drags Dude to the corner of the car, and plops him down in a seat. Dude passes out.



Shades sits halfway across the car from his friend. Shades had on really baggy pants (his fly was wide open, nothing visible, no worries) and a big baggy zip up sweatshirt tied around his waste. He started to dig in his pockets. He wanted to dig into his pants pockets, but he kept digging into his sweatshirt pocket. He was barely standing. He starts screaming profanities, follwed by "I LOST MY SHADES, 200 F*&$ING DOLLARS!!!!!" Play that on repeat in your head, loud, for two hours. That was the majority of my ride.

Intermittently, Shades would walk up and down the subway, empty his pockets (mind you his fly is still open), and take the umbrella (that I believe he just found somewhere) and hit the subway poles with it. Hard. Sometimes he would go over to Dude and whack him on the head too.

I was desperately trying to avoid any sort of eye contact with this man. I did not want to catch his attention at all. All of these observations are out of the corner of my eye. At one point Shades obtained a bag (looked like a woman's purse and I don't think he boarded the train with it) and started taking pills out of it. They were scattering everywhere. He tried to shove some in Dude's mouth, claiming they would make him feel better. Oh dear.

My train ride was extra long that night because the D was running on the N, fail. Nonetheless, I made it home 2 hours later. Alive.

Happy Halloween.


Our trick or treat basket...by the end of the night, it was all gone!