In a fight with Queens

I'm the kind of person that thinks that you can't make fun of people unless you're 'one of them'. Hence my habit of making jew/chick/white trash/poor people/CT/preppy/did I say jew? jokes. If YOU were to make the same jokes that I do I would totally tell my mom on you, but for me it’s fine. Sandy doesn’t need to know anything…

I feel the same way about living in Queens. People say that Brooklyn is the only 'cool' outer borough to live in and how 'Da Bronx is the last frontier in NYC. And then they talk about how Queens is a big cemetery. That IS so not true. I mean, MY apartment isn't on a cemetery and I live in Queens so…uh…there goes your argument! I always have Queens back.

Even when I am joking about Queens (see previous posts for evidence) it is out of love.

Yesterday, my love for Queens was tested. I am still reeling...let me tell you about it.'

I woke up around 10:30, just because. There wasn't any noise in the street and it wasn't ridiculoudly hot in my apartment. Queens wasn't out to get me...yet. I messed around on the computer, went out into the living room and saw that Jamie was sitting there. We decided, around noon that we were ready to do laundry.

BIG mistake. My ENTIRE neighborhood, who must have had a block meeting to organize in preparation, was at the laundromat. As if laundry isn't annoying enough, when you have your choice of machine, and a place to sit...let's imagine the place FILLEd with people and their dirty crap. Lord give me strength...

We saw some washers open and headed over, only to be told by this 'woman' (I say 'woman' because though she was anatomically a lady she lacked the CLASS that makes a real woman) that she would be using all 5 of them. Oh, and then because we were so presumptuous to assume that we could use the PUBLIC machines, she gave us a dirty look. B-word.

Queens 1
Becky -1

I mean, you need to use ALL 5 washers lady?! Is this ‘Big Love’ and you need to wash clothes for 16 kids, and your 3 co-wives? I mean, let’s not be ridiculous. This is not your apartment. I didn’t wander off the street and demand to use your crap.

So we waited some more, and then when two washers were done (read: the people who owned the clothes weren’t there so we had to become THOSE people who remove clothes from the washer and leave them in a basket. The guy whose clothes I got to man-handle had a thing for wife-beaters and yellow boxer briefs) we got in there. Then a few more opened…

Fast forward, and eventually our clothes were done…

Except, no dryers were free. WTF pt. 1 why aren’t any dryers free? What am I paying you guys for?! WTF pt. 2 why didn’t I realize that no dryers would be free? Washers take 20 minutes, dryers take at least 45!

Queens 2

Becky -2

Let’s keep in mind the fact that it was 80 and humid. Standing in an un-airconditioned laundromat by the dryers might possibly be the third worst place to try and cool off…(#1 in an oven while it’s on #2 a sauna)

So we wait for the dryers for 15 minutes

Queens 3

Becky -3

And finally put our stuff in. While our clothes were drying, we went to the grocery store (I got the most delish cherries-yay!) to maximize time. All was well and good until…I noticed something about my car that was parked on the street DIRECTLY IN FRONT of the apartment.

It was missing its left front mirror.

Queens 17

Becky -20

WHAT?! This is the closest my car has ever been parked to my apartment and here it was, an amputee. I mean, if my car had decided to become a pirate and ripped off its own mirror in exchange for a peg leg that’s one thing. That shows my car has good taste/a sense of humor. But for someone ELSE to rip off my car’s mirror, not leave a note, and just SUCK…is SUCKY!

In short, Queens and I will probably pull through this disagreement. But I am on the offensive now. I’m watching you Queens. If you fuck up again, I just might have to move to California to open a pizza place with my roommates. Not that we’ve given this any thought (holey ineo pizza. Possible gimic: our pizza is missing a circular piece in the center, hence the ‘holey’. In the holey space we’d put a fresh baked dessert).