When New York Magazine declared Park Slope the best place to live in New York, I'm pretty sure it wasn't for our movie theater. Because The Pavilion is the worst piece of shit move theater I've ever been to in my life.
So three years ago, my mom Marcia died of cancer. That's a pic of her above in Jamaica when she was about 25. She was too young (only 55), and I was too young, and, as you can imagine, the whole thing just suuuuuucked.
And so, duh, Mother's Day is, pretty fucking hard for me now. And if any of you are as unlucky as I am and have also lost your mom, I'm guessing it's pretty fucking hard for you too.
So in the midst of the flowers, and the special Mother's Day brunches and the cards and all of that other crap, I just wanted to send a shoutout to all y'all to say: I FEEL YOU. Like for realz.
My suggestion: do something nice for yourself today and honor your mom in your own cool way. Or if you need to, just stay in bed all day and watch bad reality TV or Lifetime movies with a pint of ice cream...cause sometimes that's just what you might need too. We figure this shit out as we go along (this post from Gloss had some good scoop too).
If you're lucky enough to still have your mom around, go eat some fucking eggs benedict with her and tell her how much she rocks. Cause that shit ain't easy.
Happy Mother's Day and <3 to all.
Curious, you don't look much like a train to me.
Because I've somehow become the default bearer of F train (bad/gross/sexy/mostly gross) news, here's a HAPPY FUCKING FRIDAY announcement for you.
Tonight at 11:30 through the rest of the weekend, we're back to shuttle busses between Jay Street and Church Ave. Transportation alternatives include Bugaboos, go-karts and dimensional teleportation. I'll be too busy picking out the perfect shade of lilac for my bathroom walls and working on the teeny-weeny particle accelerator project I have going on in my garden to leave Brooklyn anyway, but I figured the rest of you might want a heads up.
I realize this affects the G train, too. But since the G train is a mere figment of our collective imaginations, this is all of the acknowledgement it will get (also considering "You're still screwed" is no news, anyway).
Yeah, so that's pretty much the only fucking thing on MY mind these days.
Other than my new BLAHG (check-it!), my laser-ized eyes, and the fact that Oliver won't do ANYTHING in the motherfucking park anymore except eat grass! I'm serious...I've got to take some goddamned video of this shit, because its out of control.
Anyway, WTF is up with you bitches??
I always, always have something to say (to the point where it is a problem). Well, "always" until something like this happens. And then, at an unfamiliar loss for words, I quietly extract my BlackBerry from my bag, snap a photo to send to SubwayDouchery, whisper "Why god, why?" and then step off the F train with slightly less faith in the human race.