dear bus driver.

Dear New York City Bus Operators,

There is no more room in the back of the bus. I know, you just want everyone to fit, and I want that, too. I've been that girl who is trying to get on the bus, but falls out and has to wait for the next one. I understand. But it just isn't going to happen, so you can save your voice and stop yelling. I promise we moved back as far as we possibly can. We would have even done that if you used your kind words. We're close. We're cozy. By proxy, these strangers have become my new best friends. We often bond about that time ten seconds ago when you slammed on the breaks and I flew two feet down the aisle and landed on that guy with the duffel bag. 

Or about that time you slammed on the breaks and I fell off the back step and that woman had to help me stand up because I was carrying a huge back filled with Green Eggs and Ham books and markers. 

Or that time you slammed on the breaks and I dropped my coffee mug and it rolled to the front of the bus, leaking coffee all over the floor, and that kid had to bring it back to me. 

Or that time you slammed on the breaks and I tripped over that old lady's bag. It was the best of times. 

And I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that most of this letter is about me falling, and it is, but that's not my fault or the point of this letter. I mean, it is normally my fault when I fall, like when I trip over my shoes or fall off curbs, but these instances are not my fault. And the point of this letter is that the bus is full. No one else can fit. I'm practically sitting on the girl playing Temple Run in the seat in front of me and I keep stepping on that guy in scrubs.


That's all I have for you. Except I don't think you should yell at that old guy who lost his MetroCard this afternoon. We all have bad days.


Love,


Julie


P.S. In case you're still confused, this bus=full:

This is what it looks like when a bus is full.

i'm not that cool and that's okay.

My students think I'm really cool, which is pretty interesting, because I'm not really that cool. I do have other redeeming qualities, but being "cool" isn't really one of them and that's okay. Happy, yes. Witty, sometimes. But cool, hardly ever (except for that time I won a free haircut by being caller number five on the radio and the DJ announced my name and I got to say that my favorite radio station is 102.3 BXR and then my sister called me and told me that she heard me on the radio. I was cool then). Sometimes, my students tell Miriam and me that we can do certain things because they think we're cool, but in all actuality we shouldn't do them because it doesn't go over well in real society because other people don't think we're cool.

Things our students tell us we can say in public, but we actually cannot:

 

What it is, yo?

This translates to "What's up?" Cool when our students say it, not cool when Miriam goes up and says it to some people outside a restaurant and all they respond with is "No."

What up, G?

Apparently, "G" means "gangster." Not "gentlemen," "gals," or simply the letter "G." And apparently, a white girl who grew up in the middle of Missouri doesn't get to say it.

 

Mad

As in, "That car is mad awesome." Or, "I stayed up too late and I'm mad tired." Once I said "I'm mad excited to go see Mamma Mia tonight." It didn't come off as cool. I don't care what anyone says, ABBA changes lives. My, my, how can I resist you?

Rage/Raging

Used in the context of, "I'm gonna rage hard tonight," meaning, I'm going to go out/dance/go to a concert/anything else that consists of staying up extremely late and exerting a lot of energy.

Things our students tell us we can do in public, be we actually cannot:

 

Dougie

They taught me how to Dougie and they told me I was really good at it. I'm not.

Go clubbin' with them

No. I'm not going to go clubbin' with you. I don't care if it's the coolest place you've ever been and they don't have a cover and your cousin is my age. No.

Rap all the words to Jay-Z songs

It appears that just because Miriam and I may know all the words to numerous Jay-Z/Nelly/Kanye/Snoop Dogg/etc... songs, it doesn't mean it is acceptable for us sing them in public. I suppose I'll just stick to Cher and Whitney Houston (I'm crying...) songs when we sing karaoke.

 

Things that my students told me I cannot do in public. Ever:

Throw up peace signs.

Moonwalk.

Sing Cher songs.

Use the phrases, "Holla!" and "Word!"

Show people how I can make one eye go cross-eyed and move the other one around in it's socket.

Talk about how much I want an apartment bunny.

Challenge people to Man vs. Food competitions/talk about how I could crush them in any Man vs. Food competition.

Do the Pancake Dance. I could have sworn this was cool.

you might think i'm weird.

I think that some people think I'm weird. I mean, it's totally okay if you do, because it might be true. And if you are one of those people who think that I am, this will only confirm your suspicions. I've started reading a lot on my commute to work, because it makes the time go faster and I like to read. The only problem with this is that I tend to read past my subway/bus stop and have to either: a) leap from my seat and sacrifice my arm to the closing doors, or b) get off at whatever bus stop I look up at and then walk a few/10 blocks back up the street to work. Currently, I'm reading the book Naked by David Sedaris (it's hilarious, thanks for asking). For a while, I tried to justify that this wasn't a weird book to read on the subway because David Sedaris is famous! Everyone knows about that book he wrote that is called Naked and has a picture of boxers on the front! But that is not true. The book is called Naked and it has a picture of boxers on the front and David Sedaris' name is in about size 10 font, so I'm pretty sure I look extremely creepy. I've started reading with it flat on my lap. I think that I'm going to write a letter to David to let him know that any further copies of the book should have his name a little bigger on the cover. And by a little bigger, I mean a lot.

Speaking of the subways, I would also like to introduce you to my imaginary pet rat-family, except that they aren't imaginary. They also aren't my pets, but I like them. They are real and they live in the Kew Gardens/Union Turnpike stop on the E/F subway line. I've named them the Cratchit family, after the Muppet Christmas Carol. The first time I heard them squeaking their little hearts out was one late night at work, when Miriam and I were finally heading home around 8:45pm, and I knew it was all going to be okay when I heard the Cratchits from the crevices of the underground; because, in my mind this is the Cratchit family and they deserve a better life.

No cheeses for the meeses.

They're just a normal rat family, working three jobs to put enough food on the table to feed their 50 +/- 100 rat children. I thought about bringing a loaf of bread to throw on the tracks to feed the Cratchits, but then I had images of:

1. People thinking I'm the weirdest person on the earth and rushing their children away from me when they see me.
2. The E train flying off its tracks and killing thousands of innocent people. All because of my so-called-harmless bread crumb. And this would also kill the Cratchit family.
3. Not having enough money to feed both the rats and myself, leading me to actually live in the subway with the Cratchit family.

So I have decided against bringing loaves of bread. Oh, and if you still think I'm weird, I promise you, there are weirder people out there. Like the person who smeared poop all over the windows of the R train last week.

apartment bunny.

There are a lot of things that I like. I like soft things. I like to laugh. I like how squeaky my teeth feel after I brush them. I like to sing songs really loudly. I like sparkles. And I really, really like bunnies.

I like you, little friend.

I think it would be a really good idea to get an apartment bunny. Scott does not. I think my life would be a lot cuter and fluffier if I could come home to a bunny every day. I would name it Gus Gus, because I've decided that is what I'm calling all things cute. I could potty train it and teach it to follow me around the apartment. Then I could get it a little leash and take it on hop-walks around Astoria. And I could feed it mini-carrots and it would snuggle with me while I watch Enya music videos.

We would be the best of friends! I can't think of any good reasons an apartment bunny would be a bad idea. But I can think of a lot of reasons it would be a really fantastic idea.

1. Bunnies are adorable. I like how their little noses twitch and I like how fluffy their hopping feet are.
2. We could take Gus Gus to coffee shops in the summer. I can just see us sitting there, drinking our iced lattes with a little apartment bunny on the end of a leash.
3. We could take pictures of it and put them up all over our apartment. Currently, the only thing we have hanging in our living room is a dead Christmas wreath. I think pictures of future Gus Gus would be much more special.
4. We could cuddle with it. I mean, if we had an apartment bunny, it would be sitting on my lap right now, watching me write this blog.
5. Sometimes I bet Gus Gus would sit on my shoulder, like my own little parrot bunny. In these instances, I would wear an eye patch and hold a bottle of rum. I would always be a pirate for Halloween/Wednesday afternoon/all the time.
6. It could help us eat that semi-old head of lettuce we have sitting in the back of our refrigerator.

While I try to convince Scott that he wants an apartment bunny, I'll leave you with this video so that you, too, can really want an apartment bunny. Just wait until you see the little guy on the right yawn. The cutest.

zombies.

You know what I like? Zombies. You know why I like them? Because they're awesome and I like how they walk. Scott, Aubrey and I have been watching The Walking Dead (not to be confused with The Walken Dead. Click that link. Seriously, you won't regret it). I mean, what's better than a good old zombie apocalypse? I guess a non-apocalypse would be, but then Scott and I couldn't do the zombie walk all around New York City. Now I'm not saying that people don't think we're insane when we do this, but I guarantee they think we're really cool. If you were walking down the streets of the Upper East Side and you saw someone zombie-ing toward you, there is no way you could tell me you would be unhappy about it. In fact, I may let them bite me just to make it more realistic.

Plus, I tend to fall on my face a lot for no reason, so I figure that if I'm zombie-ing when I fall, people will think I'm normal. Like it's all a part of the act, not like I'm 26 and still have trouble walking. Maybe I buy the wrong size of shoes or something. When we go anywhere, I'm pretty sure Scott and Aubrey take bets on how soon I'll fall. Currently, I have 2 pairs of pants without holes in the knees and 5 pairs with holes. And absolutely no tights without holes, though that's not really saying anything. Sometimes I think it's a cute, trendy idea to wear tights. So I put them on, slip on my trendy, real leather boots and leave my house. And it's at that very moment that I remember I hate tights. And all things that squeeze every part of my body into a state of extreme discomfort. Like unitards.

This is a unitard.

That's another reason I love zombies. They get to wear whatever they want, and it's usually baggy. I dare you to find a zombie wearing tights. You won't. Because even though they have a disease that kills them and then wakes them up with nothing but an intense desire to devour humans, they know that tights are terrible.


They also call them "walkers" in the show. And I like that because I like nicknames and it makes me feel like I'm part of the gang. You know, just Rick, Daryl and Julie. Fighting walkers, protecting the children. No big deal. Speaking of Rick and Daryl, I see Rick look-alike's all the time. Like everywhere I go. Scott says they don't actually look like him, but Scott isn't part of the gang so he can't be trusted. Did you see me type "Rick, Daryl, Julie and Scott" up there fighting zombies? Didn't think so. Oh and Daryl. He has a bow and arrows and he never gives up. Just the best. 

This is Rick.

And that's why I like zombies.

soup.

Recently, our friend Aubrey moved in with us for a bit. He sleeps on the luxurious couch. And judging from the food he brought from his old house, Aubrey loves soup. A lot.

Aubrey loves soup.

He likes all kinds of soup, but mostly chicken noodle soup. Also, tomato soup and canned tomatoes. And Natty Light, the classiest of beers. Don't get me wrong, soup is great. I eat it every weekday. At work, my office is right below this big cafeteria that has lots of places to get food, like Subway, Burger King, Dunkin' Donuts (the most intimidating of coffee shops), this little stir fry place, and a little store that has fast things, like soup. 


Miriam, my coworker, and I eat soup every day, and here is why: 
1) It is the cheapest lunch available. You can get a big bowl of soup for only $2.50. The best. 
2) You get as many free crackers as you want! 
3) The soups are from Au Bon Pain, which makes us feel fancier.
4) We're basically best friends with the soup lady. At least on the days she is happy. Some days she is not happy, and it's scary.


The best soup is the broccoli cheddar. Miriam and I used to get that one and eat it together in our office, until Miriam read the ingredients and she discovered she can't eat it because she is Jewish and it is not kosher. That was one of the saddest days of the semester. Now, she just stares at me from her desk while I eat it. She also can't eat the Chicken Florentine, Beef and Barley, Italian Wedding, White Bean and Ham or Chicken Noodle. Oddly, she cannot eat the Vegetarian Minestrone either because we found chunks of bacon in it. She said she kept wondering why the soup tasted so good, but then we realized it was because she has never eaten bacon before and bacon is amazing. One would think that "vegetarian" means "consisting solely of vegetables," but not according to the soups at the little store at St. John's. Luckily, it's not one of the best soups anyway, so we don't care.


Miriam can't eat a lot of things, like pepperoni pizza, fish without scales and fins, and Sour Patch Kids. I'm not sure if she can eat reptiles. Wait, does anyone eat reptiles? People eat snakes, don't they? I remember watching an Indiana Jones movie or something adventury like that and they ate a huge anaconda. There might be a rule that you can't eat something without feet, though. The other day I was at preschool watching one of my teams, and they were singing a song called Down By the Bay in Circle Time. One little boy got up and went to the bathroom, but when the Team Leader got to the line "Have you ever seen a snake baking a cake?" the little boy ran out of the bathroom, pants around his ankles, and yelled "Snakes don't have feet!" and then ran back in. So, if you only eat kosher foods, you probably shouldn't eat anacondas. They don't have feet.

brunners take manhattan.

Something big happened this year. Something epic. Something loud. The Brunners came to NYC. The Brunners did a lot of normal things, and some weird, Brunnery things.


The Brunners went to see them blow up the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade balloons! The Brunners also made a human train and sang Christmas songs at the top of their lungs amongst the crowd.

It's a monster Smurf!

The Brunners went to see the windows at Macy's. Then the Brunners hung out in Macy's for 3 hours and ate mall pizza and ice cream for dinner. Logan wishes we could have gone to Macy's every day. He just loved it!


The Brunners ate amazing bagels and drank hazelnut coffee from Brooklyn Bagel Shop. Then the Brunners went back every morning and ate more bagels. Mom went back a few times a day to get their hazelnut coffee, which, in her defense, is the best. All Brunners love carbs and two Brunners love coffee.


The Brunners cooked a 22 pound turkey that Julie Brunner had to carry 4 short blocks and a long block from the butcher at 7 in the morning. Julie is really strong now. And there were only five of us on actual Thanksgiving day. Scott and I have a lot of leftover Thanksgiving dinners. 


The Brunners looked through their newspaper and saw that Best Buy was selling huge TV's for only $200, so they decided to go to the Black Friday sale at midnight. This is a big step for Brunners. We generally don't like shopping. We got there at 10:30pm, and apparently should have gotten there at 2pm because the line was 4 long blocks long. So we came home and ate pie.

Little Logan loves pie.

The Brunners went to see Mary Poppins on Broadway. It was incredible! Mary looked just like the real Mary. The set was amazing. I'm still in love with Bert. And we got to take flying pictures. It's a jolly holiday with Mary.

I believe in the magic!

The Brunners decided they just couldn't get enough acting, so they went to see Relatively Speaking right after Mary Poppins. And Rachel got us really cheap student rush tickets. 'Twas the best.


The Brunners multiplied on Saturday because Andy and his fiance Katy arrived. The Brunner's ate soup and then went to see "nature," aka Central Park. Then the Brunners went to the Guggenheim and saw the Maurizio Cattelan exhibit with Katy's dad. It was well worth seeing. We recommend it.

My mom always makes us order the Happy Family dish at Chinese restaurants. Because that's what we are. The dish is kind of gross, but we are not.

The Brunners did some things on Sunday, too. Logan had to leave us in the morning, so we ate waffles to drown our tears. Then the Brunners went to Astoria Park to look at the Manhattan Skyline. We came back and ate tapas and paninis. Then Andy and Katy had to leave us, so the remaining Brunners did laundry and crosswords.

Hello parents! Hello Manhattan!

The Brunners also came to see Julie at work. They ate in the cafeteria. Just like real college students. Then the Brunners had to go home. 


Thanksgiving was the greatest!