Under the Cone of Silence

I wish I could share with you all the co-op application/ house-buying insanity that has infiltrated my life however since I have about a half dozen agencies searching my background with a lice comb (NO co-op board I do not have lice or bed bugs or any parasites I’m just funny… ya see funny. But quiet and boring. Ok not funny at all and very unentertaining. Actually I never entertain; I mean who comes to Queens anyways. Well except for me and all of you board members cyber stalking me because Queens ROCKS! I love Queens.. oh PLEASE let me live here.…. Ughhhh). 

The home buying process has dampened my summertime fun jam but I know there will be another summer in 8 months and if all goes to plan I will be rocking (yet again, very quietly.. I don’t rock loudly or inconsiderately) my new apartment building’s swimming pool and BBQ deck like a regular property share holder.

Because of my crazy I have removed myself from the general populace for the past several months cause really – nobody wants any of this. However I did spend a few weekends out East at Chez Mom where we dined and drank copious amounts of wine (in a very demure Hampton setting – NOT that kind of Kardashian Hamptons, more like old lady  I volunteer at the community food pantry Hamptons – crap I am never passing this board application). Talking about wine, my sometimes squatter/ fun time pall Friday (ok co-op board.. I get it… never mind… just feed my application into the shredder) has not only secured a full time gig but also got himself a swank SoHo apartment (MOTHER F-er!) after only 2 days of house hunting – I think I used that MOTHER F-er! too early in the sentence, it would have worked better here - and as par for the course he is already pulling away. Well it was a nice 11 months and thank you for NOT breaking up with me in August cause ya know… that’s what guys I date do (did).

Hopefully my next update will not include a tale about how on October 31st I moved my belongings into storage after losing my huge rent controlled apartment and was living a very cozy life in a furnished room with 4 female FIT undergrads in Crown Heights.

In closing please see all these happy rainbows because if you accept me as your neighbor and fellow share holder I will fart sunshine. 

License to Chill

Upon returning from my southern sojourn thirteen days ago I was greeted by a very unfriendly smell emanating from my disgruntled refrigerator. My refrigerator and I have not been on good terms since I begrudgingly adopted the sad sack several years back after my original late 1970’s whirlpool gave its last gasp. This newer vintage unit arrived with only one wire rack (4 inches too short), two cracked veggie bins, one missing door shelf, and a blue appliance light bulb that gave my sparse collection of groceries a rather ghoulish hue.

It always ran too cold, freezing my gallon water jug and turning my yogurt into a tasty thick custard dessert – but what could I do? I live in a rent stabilized building, paying a fraction of what my cohorts shell out monthly. Some people pay major clams to get a sub zero refrigeration system, I got mine for free.

Old Blue and I cohabitated for several years until this past Fall when I noticed a small puddle of water collecting around the base of the unit. This was only a sign of bad things to come. Quickly the exterior hydration issue became an interior hydration issue prompting me to place aluminum baking pans on the one wire rack to contain the drippage. I informed the super of this sloppy mess while he was ineptly affixing my precariously shifting living room window back into its frame– not surprisingly he shrugged and said ‘OK’.

Fast forward a few months later, I’m stuck with a 52 degree fridge with a freezer that just about hovers at the 32 degree mark – great for ice, bad for frozen food. Since my unfortunate discovery 2 weeks ago I’ve called my management company daily and have been visited by my super several times (I don’t think he has been up to the 4th floor since my window expulsion of ’09). At first he told me it was fixed, funny because the thermometer still read 52 degrees, he then recanted and said he would get me a new fridge (Yeah!), but when it arrived it was an OLD fridge (Booo). When I called the next day to inform him that the ‘new to me’ fridge was still at 50 degrees he said I was impatient, it needed at least 48 hours to get to the proper temperature – hmmm that sounded odd, but OK. After 48 hours it was freezing ice BUT the fridge was still holding at 50. Now the super got real crafty, he entered my apartment about 20 minutes before I returned home moved my frozen leftovers from the freezer into the fridge then propped the thermometer next to the frozen food and viola, fixed fridge. Yeah that fooled me for about 2 hours until the frozen food thawed…..ughhhhhh. Next step, replace some parts and leave the proof behind – thanks super for the empty cartons! Now the thing was really humming, ice was icing, fridge was fridging and I was itching to place my Fresh Direct order – since for the past 10 days I had been living off of single serving cans of tuna (no mayo), toast and tap water. Not sure if I was just too lazy to press the ‘place order’ button or I had lost all faith in a 40 year old refrigeration system but I paused and thought – maybe give it one more day.

Freekin’ bastard proved me correct; the next day not only was the fridge up to the mid 70’s but no more ice! I thought about propping open the refrigerator door, setting up my beach chair and humidifier in the kitchen and pretending that I was on an island oasis but instead I set off to find a cooler place to store the only remaining item in my refrigerator, the butter. Thankfully my building was constructed in 1929, dutifully appointed with all the charming accoutrements that befell the pre war era such as outdoor ‘milk boxes”. Yep I finally have a practical use for that cold dairy storage box that hangs off my exterior kitchen wall (see pictures).

I think tomorrow I will heat my iron on the stove and utilize the fold down ironing board that is concealed behind a tiny trap door while I await the arrival of old fridge number THREE!

Two Birds One Stone

This lady got needs and currently I have two very pressing needs, 1 – a guy to date, 2 – somebody to install my two window air conditioners. Yes I CAN install my ACs, I’ve been doing it for 7 years but it would be sooooo great if there was another set of hands to help. Lugging them out of the closet, dragging them across the apartment, balancing them on the window sill 4 flights up from the sidewalk below as I precariously wedge loose bricks under the bottom edge to help reduce the risk of “flip out” – I’m kinda done. Last year I was almost decapitated when just seconds after pulling my head back into my apartment my circa 1929 window broke loose from its track and came slamming down full force. Unfortunately my left arm was not as lucky as my head; it was splayed across the top of the unit with my fingers wrapped around the outer edge of the AC. I don’t know how I was able to lift the entire weight of the window off my arm with just my free 4 stubby fingers while not loosing the appliance or passing out from the pain, but I did it and as a souvenir I rocked an oozing black and green bruise for weeks.

Fast forward to summer 2009 and once again it is time to re-install my units but this time I thought I would do the very smart thing and post on my facebook – for all 154 friends to see – my need for help. Not only did I post that I needed help I even offered up a pint and a cheeseburger from Donovan’s (voted NYC’s best burger by TONY) and guess what, the ONLY person who responded was Q in NC promising that if she was in NYC she would lend a hand. Really, really? WTF!? It would even be cool if Scooter offered to do it when he visits at the end of the month however he and Galleta’s have decided not to respond to voice mails or emails. Yep I just called both of you out in the blog – but I have no worries of any repercussions since Galleta is MIA and Scooter recently informed me that he’s just too busy to return calls, reply to emails or read the blog anymore.

While bemoaning my fate to an old friend (name withheld) she suggested a very creative solution to both my needs (#1 and #2). She recommended that I post an add on craigslist.com offering a buffet of torrid services in return for AC installation. At first I shrugged off this strategy however as the temperature rises and Match.com has been unable to locate at least one “mutual match” out of their 16 million subscribers, this raunchy plan is shockingly gaining my approval.
In closing please share in the horror of the only email I received yesterday from Match.com. While you are reading this please picture a fat balding 55 year old man in a Hawaiian shirt, gold chains, faded tight jeans, white socks, and cream colored pointed-toe shoe-boots lounging in a leather office chair with one hand on his crotch and the other holding a telephone receiver to his ear.

you will fall in love

HI MY NAME IS (removed) WOULD LIKE TO MEET FOR DRINKS THISN WEEK I LIVE AN WORK IN THE CITY, 917*399-(removed) CALL U WILL HAVE FUN,,

Coo Coo Bananas

I like many other urban dwellers have a visceral hatred for the Columba palumbus, AKA, the pigeon. I hate pigeons on so many levels but I mostly hate pigeons in or on my domicile. In? Yes in..but that's a story for a later time, this blog is about pigeons roosting on my and my neighbor’s window sills.

I live on the top floor of a small apartment building that is conjoined to a sister building next door which creates a sort of alley that the tenets share. For years this alley has been a haven for pigeons; with its eastern exposure it stays toasty warm in the winter and with the addition of window air conditioners in the summer the pigeons snuggle in quite contently building nests in the spaces between the bottoms of the units and the window sills. Nobody appeared to take issue with the birds for I being the tenant at the end of the alley I have a view of everybody’s windows from my couch and there seemed to be no deterrents erected to quell the constant sound of wings flapping and the endless maddening cooing!!! That is until I undertook project pigeon bye bye.

A few years ago Scooter (also a tenacious hatter of the cooing fowl) advised me to hang plastic bags from my window sills to deter the gray beasts from laying claim to my red brick oasis. I didn’t really think it would work but on Scooter's instructions I jammed my white grocery bags between the screens and the outside world then waited to see if there was any effect on the bastards. Moments later a squatter came swooping in at full speed yet when he caught a glimpse of the offending plastic bag bobbing in the wind he quickly turned vertical - like Luke escaping from the death star - and flew off to perch elsewhere. Wholly cow it worked…it really worked, and it never stopped working.

Sure the bags get grimy and gunky and they do look a bit dodgy but it’s better than pigeon poop and fluff all over my screens. However I still had the problem of my neighbors harboring the offensive interlopers, especially my neighbor whose window is positioned a mere 4” away from my living room. Ughhh every summer they would install their AC unit and every summer a family of diseased flying rats would roost, procreate….and cooooooo cooooooo cooooooo….. but not THIS Summer.

Yesterday morning I awoke to a sun drenched sky and with temperatures in the seventies I threw my windows open for the first time since closing them in November to discover not only did I have new neighbors across the alley but they had installed PLASTIC BAGS in their windows, all 3 of them, just like me!!!! I don’t know who these people are (they live in the building next door) but I want to hang a sign in my kitchen widow emblazoned in bold print “Welcome to the hood Pigeon Hater” ! or “Welcome to the hood. I see we have similar interests, if you are a single male we should really date or if you are that guy who sings karaoke followed by making sweet love….I can hear you.”