NEW YORK-
I love the Greeks.
I could tell you stories of tears streaming down my face while reading Homer on the treadmill … dreams I’ve had about dating Achilles except finding out he’s gay.
NEW YORK-
Here’s a typical situation I get myself into.
I’m going to the grocery store and there’s this guy by the bottle recycling area sitting in a wheelchair and calling, “Hey miss. Miss?! Hey!”
I don’t have a lot of time for beggars, so I hurry toward the entrance.
But he keeps at it, and is loud about it, “Oh, hey! Hey, I’m calling you! Can you hear me?”
Now shoppers standing near the front door begin to stare at me as if I am the rude one here.
This is when I get my bright idea.
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NEW YORK-
Here’s a dog story my neighbor told me the other day.
My neighbor’s friend (I’ll call her That Idiot Samsonite Bitch for anonymity’s sake) lives in Manhattan.
That Idiot Samsonite Bitch has a big dog and it dies.
She calls the vet - Do they pick up dead dogs?
Vet says no.
She can’t bury the dog in her yard because she lives in Manhattan.
She doesn’t have a car because she lives in Manhattan.
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