MY DUANE

New Yorkers love a good drug store. Especially this New Yorker who has adoringly nicknamed the local Duane Reade by my work- “My Duane’. You have to understand-unlike the suburbs there is hardly anywhere in New York where one can one stop shop for everything from TP to condoms to roasted peanuts. And not to mention most of it at a fairly reasonable price.

In contrast, I grew up in a small town where there was only one tiny drug store to cater to all of our needs. The aisles were sparse and the products were often dusty, super outdated and also very expensive. Once in junior high school, word got around that the drug store was actually selling crimping irons. Remember those??? By the time I rode my bike there they were already sold out. (They had bought three.)

Our small town drug store did have it’s perks however. You could often ‘pay later’ if you were in a rush or had too much in your hands to get your wallet out. Should you forget your prescription, the pharmacist was often nice enough to fill it for you as long as you ‘brought back the slip later’. While these were the perks, sometimes the small town intimacy was a little too intimate. Especially in high school when I was forced buy birth control on a monthly basis from my former small town Girl Scout troop leader. You don't even wan't to know what badge I got for that.

NEW YORK-SIGNS OF SPRING

Two pigeons pecking away at a melting puddle of frozen vomit near Penn Station.

NEW YORK'S #1 OPTIMIST-OUR GROUNDHOG ...STATEN ISLAND CHUCK

New Yorkers are optimists. Despite our grumpy, ‘don’t talk to me before my morning coffee’ demeanors, at the end of the day it will be New Yorkers that see the Stella pint glass half full.

Take our designated groundhog Staten Island Chuck for example. Just this morning -despite contradictory reports from the critically acclaimed groundhog Pennsylvania Phil-(a pampered looking groundhog with a top hated handler) our Staten Island Chuck didn’t see his shadow. This can only mean two things-either (a.) Staten Island Chuck just wanted to free himself from the tight clutches of Mayor Bloomberg’s spooky American Psycho style leather gloves or (b.) spring will be coming early.

I think groundhog Pennsylvania Phil might learn a little something from our Tony Soprano of groundhogs Staten Island Chuck. After all, any New Yorker knows that when asked if we’ve witnessed anything-a murder, a mugging, a spotting of our own shadow…we all say the same thing.

“Me? I ain’t see nuthin’.”

UNITED

I went to an all women's university in the south. More than half the women were from places that pronounced the word 'pillow' like 'pallow' while the other three women left on campus (I was one of the three) clung to our northern roots. Many of the women were from Texas and to my surprise actually wore T-shirts and sweatshirts that read their state slogan "Don't Mess With Texas!". Despite being from the tough streets of New York (ok-the tough streets of Long Island) even I found the ladies of Texas and their slogan slightly intimidating.

E decided to go this week on a little trip to Dallas. Having felt the winter blues as of late and needing some creative inspiration with his photography he chose a short trip to Texas. All week he has been humming the tune, “All my ex’s…live in Texas…” to which I’ve half jokingly responded, “Um…I certainly hope not.”

I can tell we are in a good place with one another. I know because I was genuinely excited for him to go on a little adventure but the new me was also able to express my, “you little dirt bag-wow it must be nice to go off on an artistic, self-exploration adventure while poor me stays here working like a slave” type feelings. I didn’t say such feelings out loud but instead I drew him a little cartoon drawing to which we both shared a good laugh. See my drawing here

Tonight I made plans to have ‘the girls’ over for Wine & Whining. W&W’ing was started a year or so ago in direct competition to the boyfriends who had their own monthly get together called, ‘Scotch & Farting’. When Scotch & Farting first started I was a little intimidated. What the hell were they all talking about with us not around? When E would come home I’d ask, “What did you tell them? Do they know about my you know what?” Who knew that in the end they were really only drinking...and farting.

I'm proud to which great heights we have taken Wine & Whining. Not only do we really get shit out on the table regarding work, sex, boyfriends, money, family, etc. but we really seem to be quite productive in helping one another with whatever is bothering us. I think we have even succeeded in freaking the guys out. I know because the last time I got home E asked me slightly paranoid, “What did you women talk about? Me? Us? Huh? Huh? Tell me. Tell me!!!” My lips were sealed.

Here is our convo before E left for the airport at 4:30am:

Me: Have fun on your trip honey.
Him: Thanks I will!
Me: What airline are you flying again?
Him: Oh no-thanks. I should be fine with two T-shirts and some underwear.
(awkward silence)
Me: Um…glad to hear it but I actually asked what airline you are flying?
Him: Oh. Oops. United.
Me: United. Well great.