Hobos in Space

Two west side hobos talking in a vacuum, thinking they're funny.

Friday, December 29, 2006

No Longer Bitter Stew?

I was all set to post a bitter rant about how Hobos Inc. is empty, and yet, I still HAD to return (from the Great White North) for two days of work. I was all set to comment on the fact that despite half of New York is not working this week, midtown streets are packed. Reporters in the trenches (Rock Center) have cabled in to tell us that it took them approximately twenty-five minutes to move three blocks. Even Hell's Kitchen is no longer safe. Tourists have waded through 8th Ave and crossed over into the sacred ground of 9th Ave, creating long lines at local favorites, like Basilica. This morning, as I made my way to the subway, the streets of the W Village were eerily empty; morning dog walkers and espresso sipping loiterers seem to have vanished. In contrast, our second home at Penn Station, is bursting at the seams. I witnessed a little boy escape the clutch of his suitcase dragging parents and dash across 7th Ave, only to be saved from a serious flattening by the vigilant eyes of the cab stand man and surprisingly, a cab driver. As father and the cab stand man shook their heads, mother hugged her little darling. And I, Cass, rather than breathing a sigh of relief, couldn't help but think my parents would have given me a corrective, loving swat on the ass.

So yes, I was bitter and ready to expel my bitterness on the digital page, as my dear Tiresias, recipient of most of my bitter stew is away on a much needed (and much deserved) sojourn to her Sweet Home of Georgia. And then..........my bitterness faded. How? I stepped on to the 1 train to the sound of my favorite MTA driver/announcer's voice: "Good Morning New York." I have been a passenger, always on Fridays it seems around 8:40AM, of this man before. And he makes me smile. He enunciates and speaks like a living, breathing, happy person! "Good morning New York....looking good New York" is one of my favorite lines. He was even in the seasonal spirit this fine Friday: "Peace and prosperity in the New Year!" At stops like 14th and Penn Station, he makes sure to stress the New Jersey connection: "Transfer is available to the PATH train to Neeeeeeeeewwwwwww Jersey." And he offers helpful instructions on where to make that connection: “walk to the front of the train.”

So bitter tirade averted...thanks to the MTA #1 driver. I highly recommend taking a ride, Fridays around 8:40; jump on the Uptown 1 at Houston.

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Caught Knitting in Conference Room by Hobos Upper-Level Staff. Twice

Really, wouldn't you, if you were caught once, just close up shop and get out of there?

Nope. I stayed. Moved my chair back so it was behind the door (you know, sneaky, but totally ineffective), put my feet up, and kept the needles going, my electric blue loom of disaster. And then he popped in again with an apologetic look and said it was for the last time. I shoved my knitting into the chair and bent over my notebook, which had a three-column list of all the movies I had seen in 2006. I was about to make a separate column for all the movies I saw on video, plus all the tv shows. The previous page in the notebook had nasty notes next to some quotes by co-workers I despise. I said, "I'm totally taking a break here." Then when he left, I finished my row and got the hell out.

I'm pretty sure he saw. But I had my manuscript with me ... and I WAS working! (When I wasn't updating my movie lists.) I just needed to take a break.

Friday, December 15, 2006

Tis the Season

It's that time of year. Stockings are hung by the chimney with care. Macys' windows are all aglow. A large decorated Christmas tree stands proudly in Penn Station...with the ornaments (surprisingly) still on the tree. The hobos are asleep by the planters, and Penn Station is back to smelling like urine.

The Goldman Sachers are out blowing their 600K (minimum) bonuses they received just Wednesday. And yet, we at Hobos Inc., remain saddened by the plight of the less fortunate. Like ourselves. We had our lovely company party today, and our bonuses arrived in a neatly packaged mini cupcake: 2K calories straight to our asses.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Goodbye Gyno, Hello Winter

It is so, so, hard to say goodbye to "Tales from the Gyno" as a page-topper, but alas, December has rolled in. It's time to move along, and we have lots to say. Tiresias and I have been tres busy clicking our heels and dancing for joy in the streets, as the 70 degree temperatures of last week seem to have passed. Macy's (the shopping capital of Penn Station) is all aglow, holiday party plans are underway, and we've even started our shopping.

We were bitter, bitter critters last week (Thursday especially when the humidity index was through the roof and the temperature was huddling around 75. For the love of God, we cried, it's almost December (December eve to be exact). I, Cass, was beyond pissed. Not only was I struggling against those thieving bastards known collectively as a management company, but perhaps more tragically I could not select an outer garment that didn't make me sweat after walking four steps. And my hair looked like I could have headlined a Whitesnake video. Tiresias and her seeing eye dog were sweating their balls off during their morning jaunt through Central Park. And every place in the city felt like a dirty gym sock. We even resorted to taunting (an ethical step below soothsaying): "Bring on the negative wind chills fuckers! Serve us up some snow flurries! I want my feet to be numb!"

Needless to say, Tiresias and I enjoyed Monday's frigid wind. Yesterday, I, Cass, was thrilled to bust out my attempt at winter hosiery - fishnets. And today, we're bundled up in our winter finery, complete with scarf nooses, gloves, and down granny parkas. Winter rocks.