Bucket List Checklist

Goal:
Leave country - check
Do Stand-up comedy - check
Do Improv - check
Run a marathon - half check!

I ran the Staten Island Half Marathon! I finished #1 in the category of women ages 25-35 with the last name of Turnbow. Even I can't believe it! Oh yeah, and got my picture on the New York Road Runners website. The photographer said I was the best photo of the morning. But, now that I'm seeing how many pictures he took (or how many people he told that to), I'm really glad I didn't show him my boobs like was my initial reaction to such a compliment.

On the train at 5am, I was probably the only person headed outside instead of "on in" after a long night of partying. I mean hey, I party. I probably watched "When Harry Met Sally" for the 17th time the night before, and I cried JUST as hard as all you 20-somethings, locked in a bathroom, digging your way out of a K-hole.

I arrived at the Staten Island Ferry at 6am. Awaiting the 6:30 ferry departure, I noticed that among the now hundreds of marathoners arriving, I was the only one eating breakfast. Either I'm the only hypoglycemic or everyone knows something I don't. It is my first big race after all. Sure, I'd run a 5K once, but my performance was down due to the chain-smoking in the parking garage prior. So now I'm eating, because I know my blood sugar (and my inner fat kid) would have it no other way.

The sun rose at the exact moment our ferry passed the State of Liberty. It was one of those moments where you realize where you are, why you're there and the things you'll hope to see another day. It was also followed by one of those moments where you plan to invent Freedom Fry Casserole with Toby Keith blaring in the background. And then you remember that you're not white trash, and you think Oh shit! I'm about to run 13.1 miles.

Then I did. Then I went home. The end.

Economic Upswing

For all intents and purposes, the economy does seem to be on the upswing. After all, my landlord boldly proposed a 14 percent rental increase. But somehow what's being reported isn't translating into the street, as is evident from this trash can I took a moment to talk to.

This is David. David used to have a home in the suburban area of Ridgwood, Queens, where he stood proudly outside, collecting used go-gurt wrappers and full-priced tags from H&M. Due to lay-offs, the family he worked for had to move to a smaller home in a multi family rental, where dumpsters were provided as a collective. With no where to go, David made his way into the city, where I met him: broken, desperate and with tiny rat knawings at his once pedicured base.

Well...that's either what happend or the guy who made this sign struck big, dumped it, the economy IS on the upswing and my landlord is just a dick.