That smell. A kind of smelly smell. The smelly smell that smells... Smelly!?!?

        You know the smell. After coming or going somewhere late at night. You could be crossing the street, turning a dark corner, going up the stairs, but it is undoubtedly ALWAYS happens when you are on the subway car. There is the  person walking but generally sleeping and using their stench to clear out a whole subway car all by themselves. Don’t get me wrong it is unfortunate that some people sadly smell this bad and in some situations it is not their fault, I am just saying what people are typically thinking. 

Question 1: Who smells this bad? 

Answer: If there is a politically correct term, I am not aware of it but let's just go to the idea that whoever is defeating the world with their stench can really do a great job at it. 

Question 2: What is the smell?

Answer: Unless you know the smell, you don't want to think about it. The simple fact that you had to smell the smell in the first place is enough to make you need a hug and then a bag to vomit it. Let me create a snatch off scent: think of the main line to the sewer as a father and the Staten Island dump as a mother, and they reproduced: that is the “smelly smell.”  

Question 3: Where does the smell occur?
Answer: As I already scared the idea into you; an alley way, simply walking across the street, but MOSTLY the subway (in a weird way it’s the N or Q after hours).  

Question 4: When does it happen?
Answer: We never know. 

Question five: Why do they smell that bad? 

Answer: I don’t know and I don’t think I want to know. There are some questions in this world that do not need to be answered and this question perhaps is one of them. 

Hypothesis: Generally the thought that come to mind is that they have not properly bathed in the past few weeks or months (the smell can be so potent that you may even anticipate it has been over a year). The person may have even use the bathroom on themselves, but it could pain some us to envision that type of image.

Question 6: How can you prepare for the smelly smell?
Answer: If there is an answer to this, PLEASE SHARE! 

Harlem Shake

I'm sure by now after living here for over a year, most of you have seen some sort of performance in the subway. I don't remember how many I have seen but it's been a lot. Usually its people in their 20's or so, not so much teenagers. I personally love watching them especially the dancers, I appreciate them for their hard work and guts they have to just start dancing in front of strangers.

Yesterday I was on the N line on my way home when these 2 teenagers walked in. Immediately  I saw that they were holding a stereo so I had a feeling what was about to happen but I wasn't sure. Then one of the boy started yelling about his dance group that he is apart of and I just kept thinking, wow he is so young! 


Him and his friend put on music and then started doing the coolest things you could ever possibly do in a subway. They were swinging from the bars, going upside down, jumping from one side to the other, and other things I don't even know how to explain. I have never seen someone move the way these boys did in a subway! Not to mention they didn't really have that much space to work with either, the subway was pretty crowded but they definitely made it work. 

I was more impressed by this performance compared to others because these boys were so young! They were definitely teenagers who seemed like they just got out of school for the day. You could tell they weren't doing it for the money but more for the experience and mainly for the fun. It was as if it is just a hobby they have, which to mean is a great hobby! And definitely something that I could never ever do in a million years. 

I respected them so much that after the performance was over that I gave them money, but also I noticed that they weren't really even asking for money its was more of the reaction from the audience is what they were looking for. I also want them to become a known dancing group for their hard work which is why  I am posting about them on my blog!

Watch Out, I'll Getcha!

I ride a scooter to the train because I live in the middle of nowhere. It's also extremely fun and liberating, but that's another story. My neighborhood consists of mostly warehouses and steel and marble companies so it's not NYC's cutest neighborhood. It's very quiet though so I like it. So quiet, in fact, that it frightens a lot of people. 

And now onto my story. I was leaving my house on my scooter and quickly came up behind a lady riding her bicycle. We made a few of the same turns so I was behind her for a while. I wanted to pass her, but there was a problem. You see, she was going slower than I was, but just barely. If I passed her, our similar speeds would cause my passing to be long and uncomfortable. I would slowly overtake her as if to say, "Hey, I'm passing you...seeee ya later!" However, I didn't want to remain behind her either because I was on my noisy scooter and I'm sure she was beginning to question whether or not I was following her through the creepy neighborhood. I cut over to the sidewalk to add distance between us, but that proved to be no less awkward. 

I'm overanalyzing this, I told myself. I cut back out to the street, right behind her again, and we cruised through an intersection. This is when she looked back at me and the expression on her face told me not all was well...

She looked something like this

When she looked back at me she had a look of terror on her face. Her look told me, "Don't rob me, scooter guy!" Seriously, it scared me a little. All 0.8 seconds of our interaction were horrifying. I had to fix it, so I slammed the brake, swerved to the other sidewalk, took some big kicks past her and got the hell out of there. 

I wonder what was so scary. It must have been the scooter.

Little Maestros

Ladies and Gentlemen, it is with great pride and the upmost pleasure that I present to you...

                                  THE LITTLE MAESTROS                                         

These guys are some of the sweetest most humble performers I've ever had the fortune of meeting. I've met a lot of performers since being here but these guys seemed, at least to me, to be down to earth and grateful to even have the small opportunity to be performing in New York. 

So let me explain a little. At FAO this weekend I was working a birthday party. Basically I set up the balloons, decorations, catering, deal with the diva mama's and everything in between. This party was safari themed... so I had the pleasure of lugging life sized animals from the bottom floor to the top and breaking my back as they weighed probably more than I did... Colin can vouch for me here he witnessed my struggle.

Anyway! The mom scheduled these lovely two to perform for her kid for her second birthday (I wish I had a live performer for any of my birthdays...). 

They arrived before the party started and were nothing but kind. They were super understanding of the fact that it was a Safari themed party and that there were huge animals everywhere limiting their space to perform. Unlike other performers or guests we had at parties who throw a hissy fit (we got ourselves some sassy clowns in the FAO Party room...). They even helped with some of the setting up and everything else. 

The actual performance went swimmingly and was the epitome of adorable. Renditions of "My Little Sunshine", "The Wheels on the Bus", "If You're Happy and You Know It" and other songs of the like. The kids loved it. I've never seen a better performer reception amongst the little devils. They were interactive with the kids, they brought a parachute to play with them, maracas (like the ones in the girl's hands) and even BUBBLES!! (I definitely was more excited about the bubbles than anyone else...). 

After the performance the girl performer (Not the girl in the picture, but someone else) asked me to show her to the bathroom so she can empty out the rest of her bubbles. On the way to the bathroom she was so engaging in conversation and answered all of my questions about the Little Maestros with responses like, "We're no better than anyone else, we're just kids at heart". I loved that, she was so humble and sweet and they both really were young spirited. Obviously the two of us got very much along on the way to the bathroom. 

Basically, I loved them. And if any of you guys are planning a party for a little one (or me... May 6th people ;)), definitely consider these guys. They're as good as live performers come. As those of you know who may have had to deal with them, divas are not uncommon.  

(P.S, that picture is from their website. The gent on the left I had the pleasure of meeting and working with, the lovely lady I haven't met it was somebody else.)

At Least One of Them Were Ugly. . . .

                I have many roles and labels as I live and work in this city; I am a student, a babysitter, and an intern. I intern at a beauty public relations firm and what i have learned from my internship is that beauty public relations is a busy world and sometimes has bizarre requests. Although, without it I would not have met the beautiful people that I did.
                It started off a typical day for an intern: waiting around for my task to be given to me or doing tasks that other people were too “busy” to do but usually lazy to do. As I was going back and forth between errands, I noticed a bunch of really tall and skinny girls overcrowding the waiting area. Being me, I shrugged them off but every time I saw them I gave them that “mean girls” smile (I guess it is a girl thing). I found out that that they were models responding to casting call for an event that my company was hosting for KMS hair products.
                The girls that work at my internship, in the back office with me, were just as intrigued, excited, and judgemental to see the models just as much as I was. Explanation for my words of choice: Intrigued because they were real models even though they were not famous. Excited because we neither of us had an experience like this before. Judgmental because they were all tall and gorgeous. Nevertheless, after completing my highly unstimulating task of unpacking neon, $75 bracelets, my next task was given to me.
                The task was to invite each model in, on at a time, ask them general questions, look at their portfolio of pictures, and then take pictures of them myself. I was extremely excited but bitter. The reason for the bitterness? I am 5’5, with short hair (that was put in a beret that day) interviewing face to face, girls with hair that made them look like they just came from the set of a hair commercial and the shortest person of their kind is 5’8. Do you understand the bitterness now? Even though I was being a hater I was anxious to interact with them. So I am going to tell you about my favorites!
                The first girl was TONYA. She was a Wilhelmina model, meaning she had contractual agreement and nothing to mess with, 5’10, long brown hair, and the most charismatic personality for someone with so much height. The next girl was SARA. She too was a Wilhelmina model. As well as having an olive complexion, voluminous hair, and five feet, eight inches tall. As I was looking through her pictures I said to her “wow you look really familiar, why is that?” SARA tells me that she was on AMERICA’S NEXT TOP MODEL. On the outside I told her “yes! I loved your season,” on the inside I was like “of course” and “god hates me.” Last but not least, there was the 5’10, PLATINUM BLONDE WAVY HAIR, GLOWING BLUE EYES, whose name I actually forgot but she made a good impression on me. For example, her portfolio reminded me of the Marc Jacobs advertisements I keep seeing all over Cosmopolitan magazine. Oh, I cannot forget that she too, was a Wilhelmina model.
                At the end of this mini excuse of a casting and photo shoot, the girls of the back room and I conversed about everyone we saw. We all came to the conclusion that we hate them because they were tall, skinny, striking, and nice- qualities that brings out the hatred in girls, however there was this one girl who was extremely tall, disgustingly skinny, NO HAIR, and nasty acne filled skin and that is when I came to realization.
                 No matter how pretty the general family of swans are, the ugly duckling is easy to find, and that means that I am not ugly.

Home in the City

I've always heard the saying "it's a small world" but I never really believed it until a couple of days ago. 

Living in New York City you meet new people everyday and most likely they aren't from your same home town, right? Well this past weekend I met someone who was from my small hometown Hopewell. 

It was so bazaar! I was at a party where everyone was about 25 years old or older. I was sitting on the couch when a women came over to me and started to make small talk. Something that I've noticed living here is the best ice breaker for a conversation is "where are you from," and yes it really does work. So I told her I was from Hopewell, New Jersey and she said she was from there too!

Now Hopewell is not a big town it is very small, my graduating class only at 300 kids. So for someone to say they are from the same town as me literally blew my mind. She started asking me where in Hopewell I live to soon find out that we only live about 5 minutes away from each other. Crazy, I know.

This women's name is Rebecca and she didn't tell me her exact age but I can definitely say she is a good 10 years older than me so we didn't have any mutual friends. She then started talking to  me about her little brother Chris, incase is if i knew him. I didn't but I knew one of his best friends Matt, who's mom just happened to be my math teacher in 8th grade! Anyway, she was telling me how her brother was in love with this girl and asked me if i knew her. Her name was Kelsey and yes I knew her. She was a grade above me. 

Apparently Chris wrote her a love song and she completely shot him down. Without me saying it I think it's very clear that she was a bitch. High school was all about spreading rumors and gossip about each other, especially between the girls. So I told Rebecca everything that I've heard about her, none of them were good.

Being in this huge city with out you're family can really make you homesick. Being able to talk to Rebecca about our hometown and mutual people that we knew gave that little bit of comfort that I was really looking for. It makes me realize that anywhere you go in life, home will always be with you. 

Churropocalypse

This, my friends, is a churro.

I know the feeling well, this feeling that I was feeling just a few nights ago. We all know it. It sneaks up without warning right after we take our first steps onto the subway platform late at night. We saunter toward our desired waiting location and realize that no trains will arrive to take us home for a possible 15 minutes. That's when it hits us.

Churro fever.

I found myself in such a situation the other night. It was 10pm and I was hungry. That's when the succulent scent of cinnamon and sugar wafted toward me. I looked to my side and saw her. 

A beacon of hope.
An angel in a beanie.
A goddess of the fryer.

The churro lady.

 My prayers had been answered. In my wallet I possessed the key to euphoria: a $1 bill. I requested nobly, with honor and poise, " yo, can I get two?"

My request was granted. Placed in my hand were a pair of churros, golden brown and twinkling with granulation. Protectively wrapping them was the calling card of the art, a rustling paper lunch bag darkened in the places where the churros were generous enough to offer their grease. With no lack of hesitation I lifted one of these sweet prizes to my mouth and bit. The result was bliss. It was crunchy but soft. Sweet and rich. Messy and room-temperature. They were mine and mine only ... or so I thought.

I heard a rustling behind me. I turned and saw another man experiencing the same euphoria with a pair of churros in his hand. I was not alone. This prize was not one for me to enjoy in exclusivity. More rustling. I looked to my left. Yet another platform denizen with churros. The prize had become commonplace, my euphoria no longer special. I was one in a group.

I looked into a downtown-bound train that had been sitting at the platform for a few minutes. Within its doors I saw more of them. One, two, five, eight passengers all with churros. I had no idea of the epidemic I had succumbed to. I analyzed the hands of all those around me. There were churros everywhere. In every direction. Churro. Churro. Churro! A man approached munching the first churro in his bag of a half dozen. I paled and sank into the bench behind me, no longer concerned of the bed bugs it potentially hosted. This was no ordinary snacking phenomenon.

This was the churropocalypse.

"Queen" Beckham

As a toy demonstrator at FAO Schwarz, I have a multitude of strange tasks assigned to me on any given day. On this day, last Wednesday, I was put on the nursery as the doctor of the Middleton Baby Doll nursery. This is what I get to look like whenever this happens.

It's definitely a lot of fun being on the nursery, however it's probably the most stressful thing they can do to a person. The owners of this vendor treat these dolls like real children in a real nursery, so that means nobody is allowed to touch them without being "certified". These plastic dolls are a hundred bucks each because you're paying for the "experience". If you get one of these babies I take you through a questionnaire as well as a birth certificate that both the child, the parent, and myself have to sign (I know, it's crazy).

After about two hours of crazy "adoptions", I noticed that there were a bunch of security people waltzing around the store which can only mean one thing...
CELEBRITY SIGHTING

Now I'm about as good at spotting celebrities as I am at spotting ghosts. Jennifer Hudson and Paul McCartney at another point in my FAO history brushed right past me and I didn't even notice. Apparently, Mrs. Victoria Beckham had made her way into FAO Schwarz, and coincidentally right where I was working. I knew she was someone important because she was surrounded by FAO security, but I had no idea who she actually was. Her daughter was really excited about seeing a doctor holding a baby so I smiled and began my mini speech I always say to interested people. All of my coworkers around me were staring with curiosity, and the manager of the Glitter Station even gave me a thumb's up as I was talking. Queen Diva, on the other hand, wasn't listening, was looking all around the store, at her nails with complete disinterest. This isn't uncommon, not everyone cares about doll nurseries. However, in mid sentence she puts up her hand almost touching my face and goes "That's nice" and walks away. Her little girl's face contorted as the carriage was pushed away with haste.

Afterwards I asked who it was that I was talking to and they told me. My initial response was to demand to know where DAVID was so we could fall in love (...). They told me he didn't come in so then I proceeded to be offended by Victoria's attitude towards me. For one thing, doesn't she have a supposed English accent? BECAUSE I DIDN'T HEAR ONE! Granted, she said all of two words, but they were the most american sounding words I had ever heard.

I understand she thinks she's cool beans because she's technically a "celebrity" but let's not be rude. I think respect is something anyone can practice regardless of your social status. She's not even that big of a celebrity I didn't even know who she was! She's lucky I was working or I would have Sassed. Her. Hard.

I have rude customers all the time I'm not offended at that. But this girl put her hand IN my face, didn't even say thank you but practically spat acid at me for talking to her obviously interested daughter. Even the rudest customers say thank you or thanks anyway as they're leaving.

I MEAN IT'S NOT LIKE IT'S A TOY STORE OR ANYTHING WHERE YOUR CHILD WOULD PROBABLY ENJOY TO PLAY WITH A DOLL IN A PRETEND NURSERY. WHY WOULD YOU EVER THINK THAT?

I mean that's fine. Makes perfect sense.

A Dash of Real

This lovely human's name is Gianna. I met her today in our school's commons by chance of me being way too friendly for my own good. She quickly became my favorite part of the day. She wasn't your typical girl, she was sarcastic, straight to the point, blunt, yet maintained this sweet and cute demeanor. I was so fascinated with her I couldn't help but keep wanting to talk with her. I knew her for all of twenty minutes before she opened up about her sex and personal life. Not in any sort of boastful way but simply as a method of conversation. She had a brilliant sense of humor that you couldn't help but laugh at. She had this ability to effortlessly talk about taboo subjects that make most people squirm. Most people I know would feel uncomfortable or get awkward in the discussion of incest or something of that nature. Needless to say, I fell in love with her. 

She told me that she could tell by looking someone in the eye if she'd be able to converse openly with someone with ease or if she should keep her mouth shut to avoid sensitive feelings being hurt. This stood out to me because she understands what is and isn't cool. She doesn't want to offend anyone, she just wants to keep it real. After talking with me for a few minutes and my friend who I was also eating lunch with, she felt comfortable enough to show us her true colors. 

As we conversed, we discussed some people that we found attractive. Mostly people that I found attractive because I'm a helpless romantic disaster. She told me her viewpoints on sexuality and I found it to be the most profound thing I've ever heard. Her comfort in her own skin, and especially in her sexuality, was such a trait I've seldom seen in people who are constantly guarding themselves from pain and heartbreak. She described sexuality like a scale ranging from homosexuality to heterosexuality and everything in between. I won't be able to reiterate what she had to say with much justice, but it was eye opening. 

She was nice. She was real. She was remarkable. 

I find myself drawn to people who have this dash of real in them. Those kinds of people who say what they need to say and don't care who hears it. Those people who are fearless and confident in themselves and their abilities. Gianna met this mark and exceeded more than I've ever known someone to- and I only knew her for all of an hour. 

At our departure I told her I was going to find her on Facebook and we'd be best friends. I think she thought I was kidding, but I was so so serious. She actually added me back as I typed this so I must be doing something right!

-Stephen 

Quelle Colour?

I was working at FAO Schwarz the other day and I was tossing Myachis with a pair of French kids who were awesome. We were having an honest-to-goodness great time. So much fun, in fact, that the kids' father joined in on the fun. So there we were, some fantastic French-speaking fellows and myself throwing bean bags around the world's greatest toy store.

These kids were good. Really good. They were nailing all kinds of tricks - and considering I was unable to instruct them via english it was rewarding to see them learning from my demonstrations. There were smiles all around and I felt bliss at the supremely positive environment I was a part of.

That's when disaster struck.

The father ran off and the kids took on a distressed look. I was confused, the fun had ended abruptly. The father was darting around and circled back to me and said,

"My girl. Little girl. Gone."

It then occurred to me that there had been a little sister with them before, and now there was not. In this emergency situation I scoured my brain for the remnants of my high school French teachings to try to help. I pointed to my shirt and asked, "quelle colour?" (What color?)

The father answered, "bleu!" And we both went into search mode. Luckily the girl was found just around the corner. I was notified by the father screaming, "it's ok!" And giving me a full-arm thumbs up.

I was relieved. These people had become my friends.

Moscow at Marymount

           One of the perks of living in this city is meeting people from all different backgrounds and walks of life. Today, I met my newest friend, Eugene (I told him to pose but that the best I got; please ignore Ambrina’s face).  Eugene and I go to school together; since my school is pretty small and personal, I saw him around a lot. He seemed interesting enough: really tall, 6’2 to be exact and always had his earphones in. Well interesting to be me t least, I wanted to know why he could not take his earphones out while he was in school.
             Nevertheless, let’s get back to my day at school: I was walking through the school’s commons’ and I saw my friends Annie and Tommy sitting and talking, so I decided to sit and converse with them. Like usual we are talking about anything and everything, then all of a sudden this extremely tall kid I see around school all the time, comes and sits with us. Obviously I was excited to talk to him because as said before, he was interesting to me. Luckily I am not a shy person so I had no issue starting the conversation and lucky for me he had no problem answering me. Eugene let me know that he was a transfer student and that he does find it hard to make friends because of that fact. Moreover, he is 20 years old and his birthday is on June 20^th. Additionally, he is originally from Russia and that is what he considers his home. Although, Eugene did not explain to me where he has actually lived throughout his life, I saw his identification and it was a Pennsylvania. So, either Eugene is an international student just traveling everywhere or he is a fugitive on the run, either way I would still like to consider him my friend but I would not testify in court against him.
           The moral of my story after meeting my new, tall, and Russian friend; instead of wondering what “this guy” is listening too, I can now wave and say “hey Eugene.” 

Look At My New Lingerie!

 

      The other day I was with my friend Lawson (on the left) and I was just hanging out with him while he was working. He works at Solar Salon and he always tells me stories about his crazy customers. I never really believed him until this one girl came stumbling in. Her name is Sarah (to the right) and I have never met someone before who could so openly share things about her personal life to a complete stranger, me. She stumbles in the door and right away me and Lawson knew this was going to be an interesting customer. The first thing she says to us is "LOOK AT MY NEW LINGERIE!" We were both just caught so off guard but as nice people and very curious people we agreed to let her show us. As she was trying to open her boxes she was telling us that her best friend was getting married and that she loves going to weddings from all the "singles guys" that she can choose from. She finally gets the boxes open and she pulls out this white lace bra that is completely see through and a matching thong that had a cute little bow. As a girl, I thought her lingerie was so sexy and would definitely "get the job done." I tell her how cute it is and how it would definitely look really good on her, she's surprisingly really self conscious. Sarah then tell us how she thought her best friend was crazy for getting married at such a young age, they are both 24. She felt bad for her best friend because she was going to be missing out on some crazy "city nights." Sarah tell us in the most classy way how she really likes to explore her options before settling down and that she is no where near ready to start settling down. 
     This whole conversation happened before she even asked about her tanning options which is the reason why she came in. She then switches the conversation by saying she didn't want to look "Kristen Stewart" pale at the wedding and that the wedding was in 2 weeks. Lawson explains to her the options she can choose from but she really didn't care about how she was going to be darker she just wanted to  to look darker. While she was waiting for a bed to open up she tells us how she came from Savannah, Georgia and how proud of herself she is for being able to make it in New York City. She came here to go to FIT and now she has this amazing job and has met amazing people throughout her whole experience here so far. Her bed was then finally ready.
     After she came out she invites me and Lawson to go out to dinner with her. At that point she had been telling us she was drinking all day and she wanted to keep going! Lawson and I didn't really know what to say, we didn't want to be rude but we obviously weren't going to go. We just politely told her we had other plans that we couldn't ditch. She was bummed at first but then said "it's okay there is always next time!" 
      As she was walking out the door Lawson and I were in just shock about what just happened. When she finally left we both just started laughing at how crazy this whole experience was for the both of us and how we are probably never going to forget her. 

   

I can hear the bells

This is Chris. Chris is my soon to be husband. Kidding of course kind of. But really, this guy was the sweetest, talented most humble waiter I might have ever had. The second I saw him I lost my breathe and I kind of just stood in awe. Through conversation I learned he was an out of work actor surprise trying to make it big in the big apple. I, being crazy, asked him to sing a little bit for us. He was caught off guard but he happily obliged and sang a few measures of "If I were a Boy" (Upon request...). After this moment I really knew that we were destined to live in holy matrimony for the rest of our days. He didn't brag about his vocal ability or any project he was working on, simply that he was working hard to achieve his dream. 

Of course we've all met these out of work actors at some point in our NYC experience, for goodness sakes I work with a handful of them. However this one wasn't as arrogant as I've experienced and he wasn't shoving his latest and greatest achievement down our throat. He was just grateful to be living in this wonderful city and that he got to meet such eccentric characters (i.e my friends and I) on a daily basis. We complimented him on his great singing and he just shrugged it off claiming he was "no better than anyone else" but smiled warmly at our praise. 

On top of being my boyfriend I wish, he served as an inspiration to me. I'm not an actor, but I used to be. I gave up that dream because I was too afraid to pursue it and I couldn't handle the competitive attitude and cut throat motives that coincided with it. Then I meet this waiter who didn't seem to have those motives but just this raw talent and humble attitude. It wasn't just inspiring but it was refreshing. I very much enjoyed him as a waiter and a person.

 Whenever he'd go away and then come back I'd get excited like a young school girl, but this is not uncommon for me. He checked on us frequently, not out of any obligation but just because he enjoyed the company of our table (and maybe wanted to sing a little more but none of us asked). As the afternoon grew on he became more and more friendly. Although we had developed a tiny relationship I was too afraid to ask for a picture with him... HE WAS PRETTY, OKAY!? I GOT INTIMIDATED! But I did manage to sneak this creeper shot that I hope you all enjoy.

-Stephen: the crazy crush driven stalker

You Can Get More Than A Drink at Starbucks

         Meet my love: Starbucks! I know what you are thinking, “what kind of name is Starbucks if he does not have whip cream or some sort of syrup on him or at least come in a cup?” Actually it started just over a year ago, when we met in a Starbucks on the Upper East Side. Since it was winter and really close to the family’s house I work at, it surely became my destination Starbucks. He was an employee there and the first thing he said to me when I approached the counter was “you have a pretty smile.” I did not think anything of it except that this is the friendliest Starbucks I had ever been in and this guy is pretty cute too. So after me going in there for about month straight (and not just for him, but he was cute making my caramel macchiatos), Starbucks asked me for my number and we decided to go on a date. Our first date was to the movies in Times Square to see The Woman in Black and almost a year to the date later, here we are.    
                        Yes, he does have a real name and no I do not call him by it. Even when we go out with my friends and I have to introduce him, he is introduced as Starbucks. Starbucks was born and raised and still is living in the Bronx, so going to see him is not so bad. He loves basketball, the Xbox I got him for a Christmas present and of course me! I consider him to be an influential person on my NYC voyage because I cannot imagine what my life would be like here without him.

My Little Frenchy

This is Max, he is 2 years old and French. I started babysitting him in September and he is one of the funniest kids I have ever interacted with. His parents decided to teach him french and English at the same time so now when he speaks its half French and half English. No, I unfortunately do not speak french so our communication to each other is very different. Max like most babies loves to yell and scream so he knows when he is doing something right or wrong based off of the tone of my voice. After babysitting him for about 5 months now I have learned so much about him and what he likes and doesn't like simply based off of how he reacts to things since we can't really communicate. one thing that I really noticed about him is that he loves to eat and the crazy part is that he only eats healthy food, no snacks! His mother Amanda only feeds him meats, vegetables, and fruit. That's it. He has never had candy, ice cream, or any other type of junk food. Yet he still has huge belly. Max is a very well behaved child and is very easy to take care of. Next month he will become a big brother and I'm sure he won't be to thrilled about it but I surely am!

Hot Sauce, White Sauce?

I'm going to write about the men who changed my life. Overdramatic? Yes. I'm talking about the guys who work the vendor cart known as "King of Falafel and Shawarma." 

If anyone in the NYC area ever finds themselves fortunate enough to be anywhere near the Broadway stop of the N or Q train in Astoria, it is imperative that you disembark the train at this stop and get yourself a chicken platter from the King. What you will be treated to is a bed of steamy rice (yellow or basmati) with a salad of mixed veggies and an enormous portion of meat that is so fully and perfectly seasoned that once you start eating you will be ravenously captivated until the plate is gone. On top of all that, you get a free falafel. Perfectly cooked I might add.

So I'm a big fan of their food. I get myself a chicken platter a few times a week or sometimes I'll mix it up and go for shawarma. Yes, the platters are unreal and super cheap, but what really makes me giggle when I'm riding home with a platter in hand is my interaction with the Falafel guys. These guys enjoy their job, I can tell. It's a family operation . . . I think. At least I know most of them are related somehow, but that's one of the questions I don't ask. You see, I consider myself friends with these guys (the younger ones mostly) but there's only so far a conversation can go when they have thick accents and the only thing we really have to talk about are chicken platters. One time I was working at Toys R Us when the sauce guy (the one who asks "hot sauce, white sauce?") passed by and said waddup. I hardly recognized him with his fly outfit and double stroller, a far diversion to the usual apron and burgundy shirt. I gave him our usual fist pound and cool-guy upwards nod and exchanged a few banter lines then continued my work. I like the guy a lot, as well as the other falafel guys, but I think our friendships are about as deep as they're going to get. I'm alright with that I guess.