There’s a Citi (formerly known as Citibank) commercial on television right now in which people are talking about ways to save money, like biking to work. One woman shares, “[I] take hotel shampoo bottles when I travel. Haven’t paid for that stuff in years!”
Now, here’s where I’m concerned: Those bottles have maybe an ounce of shampoo in them. Either this woman travels very frequently, or she washes her hair very infrequently.
When I see a headline like “Consumer prices fall for 2nd month,” I immediately think to myself, “It’s time to buy some consumers!”
In the song “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist” from Avenue Q, Princeton argues that we all make judgments based on race: “Not big judgments like who to hire; just little judgments like thinking that Mexican busboys should learn to speak goddamn English!”
Earlier today, our President expressed his thoughts about a new Spanish-language version of our National Anthem:
“I think the national anthem ought to be sung in English, and I think people who want to be a citizen of this country ought to learn English and they ought to learn to sing the national anthem in English.”
Last time I checked, the United States does not have an official national language, much like it doesn’t have an official national religion. It’s too bad those goddamn equal rights are always getting in the way of our President’s ability to govern.
This morning I noticed a lady waiting for the elevator downstairs. The elevator arrived, and the doors opened.
“Thank you,” she said to the elevator, quietly and politely.
I guess she wanted the elevator to know that she appreciated its chivalry.
Ashleigh’s working on the Upper West Side today, and we were discussing our plans to meet for dinner. I said, “I’ll meet you there so we can explore Columbus’s options.”
Immediately I thought, “Discover new world… Don’t discover new world…”
I’m sure his actual options were more complicated, but in the cartoon in my head, everything is quite simple.
“Where do you work?” she asked me, as we lunched with our mutual friend.
“There,” I replied, indicating the huge office building across the street.
She looked quizzically at the quaint dry cleaners at street level, trying to determine why I would work there.
“Not the cleaners. Behind that.”
I originally thought the chorus of “Bandages” by Hot Hot Heat was, “blame the jews, blame the jews, blame the jews.” Perhaps I was just paranoid.
Ashleigh’s version was better, though. Apparently she thought he said, “Band of juice, band of juice, band of juice,” which makes even less sense (but, I admit, sounds more like “bandages”).
What did you think he was saying?
“Everyone understands this language,” I said, opening my wallet and holding it up to my face, “the language of the smell of the color of money!”
This morning on the N-R, it was very crowded and very quiet as usual. This one foreign girl (she was Scandinavian of some sort) was talking at normal speaking volume to her friend. Since she was the only person on the train who was talking, her friend shushed her and said, “Everyone can hear you!”
I don’t know why, but something about that was funny to me. Maybe it’s because “everyone” is a stranger and doesn’t care, or maybe it’s because there’s no real reason for the unspoken rule (no pun intended) of staying quiet on the subway in the morning.
I really enjoy watching High Fidelity whenever it’s on television because Jack Black’s first line–as he walks into Championship Vinyl and hears the new Belle & Sebastian record playing–is “Holy shoot! What the frog is that?”