henrydo.net

I love kitties. Don’t let anyone else convince you otherwise.

This morning, while getting breakfast, I overheard one guy say to another: “I don’t know what her problem is. It’s not like I was groping her or anything.”

I’m not really sure how to interpret that. Did his significant other catch him making out with another woman? Or maybe he hugged a female friend and his girlfriend overreacted. Perhaps he had too much to drink at a bar last night and made an ass out of himself and is trying to justify his behavior. This is going to bug me all day. Random dude who said this, if you’re out there, please fill in the blanks for me before I go insane. The suspense is killing me.

This morning I dreamt that I looked out the window of my apartment and saw a bear running down the streets of New York mauling everyone in its path. The funny thing is, people weren’t fleeing the bear; they were actually heading towards the bear to engage it in hand-to-paw combat. Dream people are stupid.

By the end of my dream, no one had yet managed to prevail in mortal combat against the bear. Better luck next time, dream people.

This picture would have gone well with my previous post. If only I could somehow travel backwards through time.

If you spend more than 2 minutes walking on the sidewalk in Manhattan, you will inevitably be accosted by someone wanting to hand you a piece of paper of some sort. Sometimes it’s a flyer for a show, sometimes it’s a free newspaper, sometimes it’s an advertisement for something you know no one will ever want, and sometimes it’s something else completely. What you can always count on it being is annoying.

Yesterday I noticed a flyer person who didn’t seem to be having a good day; I saw him yelling at two guys in front of me for not taking a flyer. As I walked by, I ignored the piece of paper he tried to shove into my hand as well as his various phony greetings.

Sensing that he was going to get no reaction from me, he yelled, “What, you can’t look up every once in a while? What’s up, fuckin’ sushi bar?” It was at that point I realized I had a weight problem because obviously I was so massive, this poor soul had mistaken me for an entire restaurant.

As far as food-based racial comments go, however, this still doesn’t beat the time a bunch of kids called me “Chinese Food.” But that’s a story for another time.

Yesterday in Manhattan, in what police are calling an apparent suicide attempt, a man tried to end his life by blowing up a building he owned while he was still in it. See what happens when you ban guns? People have to find new, creative ways to kill themselves.

I saw a police officer riding an offical NYPD Vespa Scooter yesterday. Criminals and traffic violators beware for the swift steed of justice shall soon be upon you.

The Strand Bookstore here in New York City apparently employs many minorities; I never really noticed until it was brought to my attention by a fellow customer. This elderly white man was standing near the cash registers staring at the clerk (a white guy) and proclaimed loudly “You’re the only Caucasian working here. The only one!”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” said the clerk.

“The only one!” said the customer.

“Yup.”

“Amazing! Only one Caucasian guy here!”

Yes, the Caucasian male is becoming an increasingly rare breed here in the U.S. It’s nice to see one running free in the wild as nature intended.