don't say i didn't warn you

Alright, New York, it is on. You have overstepped your boundaries and trod upon my good nature.

First you curse my computer so that I spend more time at the Apple store than I do anywhere else except home. Another new logic board? Isn't this the fourth one? Come, now.

Then you lure me into buying two packs of raspberries because they're 2 for $4 at Fairway, and isn't that a good summery idea. So full of antioxidants and so nice in smoothies. Sure.

Then you make one and a half of said packs of berries moldy and disgusting, so I've effectively gotten 1/2 for $4. Like, sprouting mold.

Then you present me with not one but TWO vile, disgusting, so-called "waterbugs" in my clean bathroom in ONE NIGHT. One at 8:30 pm and one at 11:15 pm. Carlotta & O can back me up on this, but "waterbug" is New Yorkese for ginormous roach. Because New Yorkers can apparently curse at taxis, talk recalcitrant salesclerks into making a lenient bargain, brave the common dressing room at Loehmann's, and eat street food with abandon, but they canNOT call a ginormous cockroach a ginormous cockroach. Maybe "waterbug" is an attempt to shake some stereotype current in the rest of the country that New York is one big tenement full of bugs like some Jacob Riis photoessay. Fuck. (Sorry, Mom. And, p.s., our apartment is clean. The floors are clean, the bathroom is clean. There is no rhyme or reason. Maybe they really like water.)

Good luck sweetening me up this time around, city. Unless there's a clarinet serenade of that Mozart concerto I really love on the subway OR someone non-sketchy on the street who tells me genuinely that I'm enchanting OR you miraculously get me a car, OR you maybe start returning two of Kolz's favorite non-iron dress shirts for every one we put in the laundry, I am not speaking to you.

...which means I have plenty of time to speak to you, my dears. I have a bunch of funny stories stored up.