Your laundry is NOT my laundry

Common decency... that's what it comes down to.

Doing laundry in New York City, for those of us certain tax brackets, is a communal experience. There's only a certain amount of washers and dryers to go around for ten million people. My wife and I are lucky in that we have decent laundry facilities in the basement of our building. There are four washers and two dryers for about sixty apartments, so it's tight- but it works.

Most of the time.

Which brings me to this question- How hard is it to remember what time you put your laundry in, so as to remember what time you need to go down to retrieve said laundry when it is finished? For some, it seems the answer is: Very hard. Example: Last night we were doing laundry, which my wife started before I got home. While we were putting our last load in the dryer, I noticed a pile of still-wet laundry sitting on the folding counter. "I took those out," my wife informed me, when she had put our stuff in the wash originally. And there it sat, while our next batch of clothes came out of the dryer- and who knows, it could have still been there in the morning.

Now, I don't want to have to handle other people's laundry- but I will (as will my wife, obviously). If your clothes are in my way of getting this pain-in-the-butt chore done, they will be moved. Respectfully, of course- I'm not going to throw them on the floor- but they will be moved. My allotted laundry time does not take into account your laziness. I repeat- I don't want to handle your laundry... and I shouldn't have to, either. Or would you like me to fluff and fold too??

Set an alarm. Or just look at a clock, and do the math. Understand that there are precious few facilities, and we all need a turn. Or were you absent the day in kindergarten they taught how to share? Or how about the day they taught how to tell time, at least? Missed that one too, huh?

Now, I am not unreasonable- if you are five minutes late in getting your laundry out- I am not gonna throw up a fuss. But when your wet laundry is still there after I have taken it out, and done four loads of my own? Give me a break, people. You're not the only person on the planet, stop acting like it.

Scoot. Over.

On the train this morning, a guy got on struggling with stuff in his hands... his over the shoulder bag, his book, and his... scooter. Like a razor scooter- the kind you might find a child skipping down the street on. Now I try not to be judgemental (often times horribly unsuccessfully), but come on.. a scooter? What self respecting adult finds this mode of transportation reasonable? All I know is the last thing I want to have to avoid as I walk down a crowded city street is some kid on a scooter- notice I said kid, because having to avoid being run over by an adult on a scooter shouldn't even be on the list.

So what does this full-grown man who is okay with zipping around the city on scooter read, you ask: Proust's Swann's Way. Hmmm... Flash back to childhood anyone? Who wants a cookie?

Let's clear something up...

Because I know you are all going rush out to see Vin Diesel's new movie when it comes out on April 3, I want to take some time to clear up a little confusion that no doubt has been troubling you.

There have been four movies now in the series. The first one was "The Fast and The Furious," followed by the sequel "2 Fast 2 Furious," the threequel, "The Fast and The Furious: Tokyo Drift," and now the latest and probably greatest: "Fast & Furious." Notice how they have cleverly dropped the "The" from the title, and adding an ampersand- making it a completely different title than the first movie!! Now that's some serious ingenuity, people. Bravo.

Now, I myself will not be attending- not only do I have plans on said release date, but I also have not seen the prior three films, and therefore would surely find myself lost and confused. Plus I'll have another chance when the fifth one comes out: "Fasturious!" It's gonna be huge.

What global financial meltdown?

Even in these trying financial times, there's always gotta be one guy who's got way more money than he knows what to do with.
This guy. He's Charles Simonyi, a Hungarian-born software developer, the so called "space tourist," who today blasted off in a Russian rocket for his second- that's right second- trip to the International Space Station. The going rate for which is $35 million dollars. I don't know about you, but I would love to wipe the smug look of his face.

From the article in the NY Times:

In a telephone interview... Mr. Simonyi said he plans to help Russian engineers calibrate space radiation sensors, chat with school kids via ham radio and discuss his experiences with Internet readers.

Help calibrate space radiation sensors my butt. The latter two seem more like it... "Hey, look at me! I'm filthy rich and rather than use my money to fund humanitarian efforts in these troubled times on earth, I'M GOING TO SPACE!!" Now far be it from me to tell a guy how spend his money, and I am sure this will only boost his chances with the ladies (Hey baby, wanna see my space suit?)- but it seems to me a little insensitive to be dropping 35 mill on something that should probably be a once in a lifetime experience. Once, Charles. Hell, it irks me and I have a job. What must some jobless factory worker think about this? ( Find one and ask them, I am sure they are not happy...)

Okay, bitter rant over. Sweet galactic dreams, Mr. Simonyi, on your pillow no doubt made of soft, laundered currency. Okay seriously, the bitterness is over...

Identity Crisis

Whatever you do, don't let him know he's a bus. He's got a real bad temper.

Peeves, pets...

Let me start by saying: I don't like washing my hands with cold water. It doesn't feel like they are getting clean, and the soap seems to take longer to wash off. Do I do it? Yes of course, as public restrooms don't always give you the option: no matter what the handles on the faucet are labeled; or do you really want to spend the extra time in a public bathroom to wait for the water to get warm? So yes, I do wash my hands with cold water when I have to- but I don't have to like it... not even a little.

While on the subject of public bathrooms: Give me paper towels. I know, know, hand blowers are better for the environment, blah blah blah... Hey I'm all for reducing my carbon footprint, but I'm also for walking out of the bathroom with dry hands... or without water up inside my sleeves, where it invariably ends up getting blown to. Paper towels, I'm in control of- I know where the water's going: on the towel. And let's not get me started on the whole automatic faucets and blowers... I've already gone there on this blog awhile ago.

Back to water temperature: I don't like brushing my teeth with warm water. If the water comes out of the faucet, still warm from the last use, and it gets on my toothbrush- I will start over. Water and toothpaste conservationists be damned.

Now a here's "pet" peeve. This goes beyond the normal New Yorker complaint of "Why can't they clean up after their dog??" Although I am behind that one too. This is another issue I have with many dog owners, and a word of advice: Be giving when it comes to your dog. There are those of us out there, my wife and I included- in a big way- who wish to have have a dog of their own- but cannot for now, due to lifestyle and other financial restrictions. So when we stop to pet your dog on the street, and ask its name or how old or what breed- don't act like I've committed a federal offense, or walk away like you don't speak human, dragging your pal behind. Humor us. Hey I know, I'm sure it's the fourth time you've walked your dog today, and you've really got to get to that spinning class at the gym- but share in the joy that your dog is obviously bringing us. I'm not saying we want you to put on a show or display for us all of his or her tricks- just be civil. Embrace the joy, not the annoy.

A list of pet peeves could go on for ever, but that's all for today. So after the peeves, I leave you with some pets:

Our little angels, Mick & Bean.

Madoff's Punishment: Fair Market Value?

For those who haven't been living in a cave- or for those that do that have their cave wired for internet or TV- we all know that last week beloved Bernie Madoff pleaded (or is it pled) guilty to crimes beyond most of our collective comprehension. For these crimes Madoff may face up to 150 years in prison. Now I don't want to downplay just how serious these crimes were- many peoples' lives were greatly affected. But what does it say about our justice system when this guy faces 150 years for causing financial woes, while drug dealers, rapists and murderers can get 5-25 with time off for good behavior? Hmmm...

Don't get me wrong, I'm not feeling sorry for the guy- it's not like it would be hard time. So he gets sent away- let's face it- to probably some white-collar criminal minimum security prison/ country club for the rest of his life. Not so bad. But it's the math that just doesn't add up for me. Murders get a shot at redeeming them themselves in 25 years, but Bernie needs to stay off the streets forever, a true danger to society!

A better punishment for this guy would be stripping him of all his money, and forcing the guy to work the french fry-vat at Mickie D's, or some other minimum wage gig. It's not like the guy's got the street-cred to be able to open another financial firm, nor does he probably have any friends who would give him a shot to work at theirs. He has done more damage to himself already than any amount of time in jail could do. I would like to see him need to scrounge to make a living, not be given a cushy life behind "bars."

I think I may have contradicted my argument somewhere in there, but so be it- I'm over it.