thingsiveboughtthatilove: Blister treatment

It is Memorial Day and summer is officially here. It is a gorgeous warm day and the parks are full, full of women in summer dresses and sandals. What does that mean: blisters.

I've put on a dress several days in the past few weeks and given myself no choice but to brave dainty summer shoes. The first thing to go was the skin on the top of my feet where the strap rubbed me the wrong way. New plan: no more strappy sandals, just conservative ballet flats. Well, they rubbed the skin off the backs of my feet.

This happens every New York summer. I find myself walking around Manhattan, far from home, on the way to meeting someone or attending something important and attacking my feet are at least two blisters threatening to turn into bloody messes. So I duck into Duane Reade and enjoy the free air conditioning and adult contemporary jams on my way to the Band-aid isle. Yes, Kelly Clarkson, you know my pain. The most obvious solution (other than just putting on socks, which is neither pretty nor summery and an admission of defeat) is to put on a few standard Bandaids. Well, this is neither pretty nor that effective seeing as how they always get rubbed off. In past years I've been seduced by Band-aid friction block, a Vaseline based product that claims to eliminate the bother of tight shoes. I don't want to be too negative becaues I've heard good things about this product from a trusted source, but I cannot recommend this product for enflamed skin.

This year, like years past, I found myself in the first aid isle with sore feet. My first instinct was to grab a handful of Sponge Bob Bandaids and just go wild. I'd just finished reading the Atlantic article about the incessant optimism of the yellow guy. He's been around for ten years so maybe I could celebrate with a little playfulness on my feet. But that didn't seem appropriate for the fancy dinner on the ticket for that night. Next, I was almost seduced by the Dr. Scholl's competitor to the Blister Blocker. But just as a jubilee of bells rang out following K.C., I looked to the left on the shelf and saw Blister Treatment surrounded by a halo of light. I went for it.

These little guys are amazing. Each one is a little cushion covered in a larger, clear sticker. I put one on each of my heels last week Thursday, and have showered and worked out every day since. Just now, five days later, did I have to scrape them off my feet, uncovering completely healed skin.

In the winter, I get cuts and pealing skin on my finger tips. My mamma worries about me and she sends me these great little expensive advanced finger and toe Bandaids. They work great on fingertips; they stay on and they keep my cuticles happy. I've usually just reached into my stash and used these finger tip Bandaids on my feet come spring and summer. They work pretty well when it comes to healing. However, they just aren't made for feet and they don't stay on long. I always feel guilty because they are so expensive, too expensive to use everyday on my feet. Well, the cushion in the Blister Treatment turns into a healing goo, just like these advanced Bandaids. They are like the perfect ailment for angry summer feet. I'm so excited that I've found them in time for summer. So strappy sandals and warm weather, here I come!

P.S. Why is that Dr. Scholl's rub releif "for her"? So men are just going to have to keep on powering through uncomfortable shoes?

Thanks for keepin' it classy, Columbia

I am proud and happy to say that I have now completed the Columbia Postbaccalaureate Premedical Program. I am also happy that I will no longer have to say that phrase and then explain what it means when meeting people at parties. Yes, I am an adult. Yes, I am taking undergad classes. Yes, it is a lot of work and a huge commitment of the next ten years of my life.

It was a two year undertaking that has left me exhausted and demoralized, but also filled with the sense that I now know a whole lotta science, which is really cool (see that posting with the glowing rats, yeah!).

Because it is not a degree program there was no graduation, but there was a certificate ceremony. As it is my nature to obscure pomp and ceremony, and because I was feeling some serious school fatigue from finals, a formalized closing held little draw for me. However, there was an email saying that as a goodbye present we would all receive a pair of scrub pants and to please give pant size when RSVPing. Well, after the hefty price tag of a Columbia education I figured I wasn't going to pass up free pants my fees had paid for.

But I am glad that I went to the ceremony. It was just delightful. A student spoke with humor about changing careers and the trials of the premed program. The Chair of the Committee of Admissions for Albert Einstein Medical School in the Bronx, Dr. Robert Marion, gave advice to applicants and medical students.

Then, there was a champagne toast and canapes, really good canapes. There were little bits of beef that I didn't try, and lovely salmon treats. A piece of brown bread cut the size of a quarter with a little cylinder of salmon wrapped around cream cheese stacked on it with a bit of caviar on top. Just lovely with a slightly fruity bubbly beverage.

Dr. Marion's advice was a list of do's aimed at maintaining sanity, health, and humility through the schooling of a medical student. Included in this list was to keep a blog for ourselves and our memories, but also to share the experiences. I believe that his phrase was something like: "as medical students you will have experiences that mere mortals never will." Well, done and done. I have always believed that I am having fantastic experiences that others are denied (see apple cider donuts, yum). So I hope that you, as a reader, are enjoying the living them vicariously as much as I enjoy writing about them.

Studying for finals makes me crazy

"Uhh.. this is life (this is life)
This is what I know (this what I know)
So to me (so to me) this is life (this is life)

One more road to cross
One more risk to take
Gotta live my life
like there's one more move to make"

Yesterday I got an email from a yoga studio about a three day fruit fast. It seemed like a really good idea at the time. I forwarded it to Peggy with the suggestion that we do it "together" when I finish finals.

She was totally in. This makes me think: is this really a good idea or is Peggy as in the zone as I am?

Given the response from that utube of puppies I sent her, I deeply suspect that it is the later.

Or maybe its not finals that getting me but the relentless migraines that have preceded them.

Apple Cider Donuts at the green market

Every Saturday morning there is a green market at Grand Army Plaza. Every Saturday morning the first stand is occupied by vendors that sell apples and apple baked goods. So every Saturday when I go to buy my onions and kale I have to walk through a whole mess of small Park Slope children yelling, "I want an apple cider donut now!" Ugg. Park Slope children. Ugg. Park Slope parents.

I related this to my mother who said, "I guess they use the cider as leveling, like beer donuts."

Well, I had never heard of beer donuts. I'd never had a green market donut, either, because I'd never braved the line of demanding children.

This Saturday was rainy and the market, while starting to fill back up with the fruits and veggies of Spring was deficient of the stroller crowd. I decided to take the opportunity and get a donut.

Oh. My.-wait for it-God!

Yum. Yum.

The donut was so delicious. It tasted like there were bits of apple baked in, but there weren't. There were just pockets of yummy air surrounded by wonderful cake. And sugar coated. Who can beat a sugar dusting. No one. That's who.

The fact that Krispy Kreme and Dunkin' Donuts even call the what they produce by the same name as this celestial morsel is an abomination. It's sad. That is the reason that American children are exhibiting symptoms of both malnutrition and obesity. They took all the wonderful fresh fruit and time consuming lightness out of the donut and replaced it with white flour and artificial flavoring. You could eat a million commercial donuts and not fell the satisfaction of one of these most delicious apple cider donuts.

I finished it and I felt happy and satisfied and not at all weighted down with that muffiny too full ness that usually accompanies baked goods.

Full disclosure: I did get a second donut. But it was several hours later and I had to walk back the ten blocks to the market. Also, they were selling for two for a dollar, implying that two donuts is a serving size. No, I don't think so. Next week I'll get two, but maybe I'll bring a friend to share with. I bet that will make the deliciousness even better.

The dog days are coming

I have three dog stories from today

1. I was walking to yoga and I saw a middle-aged man walking his dog and carrying a hand full of dry-cleaning on the hanger. At the crosswalk, the dog just sort of crouched a little bit and let out just a golfball sized amount of poo. The light changed and the man started to walk. I was walking towards them, and I believe that it really isn't cool to leave dog poop on the sidewalk, especially not the sidewalk on my commute.

So when we met halfway across the street I said, "Your dog just shit on the sidewalk back there."
It was a little bold of my. I considered just letting it go. He was all clean with clean laundry and no free hand and I thought thats why he didn't pick it up. But, really, are those excuses? No.

He said, "Not my dog."
I said, "I just saw her squat down."
Then he looked back and said, "Oh."
Then he went back and picked up the poo. That was cool of him.

The dog had done a little sneaky poo job. In retrospect, I sort of wonder if that man had trained his dog to sneak poo so he could legitimately pretend he didn't know. But he was so cool about picking it up that I suspect this is not the case.

2. I was at the park and I saw a man on a bicycle carrying a bag on his back and in that bag was a dog. He stopped, got off the bike, took off the bag, and the dog just got out and ran around. It looked a little stiff.

3. I saw a man walking a cat that looked just like Pook, on a harness. What!

Because no mater how much you hurt me I will always take you back

Thingsiboughtthatilove.com is back open to the univited public. I'm excited, really excited.

And while we are on the topic, The Office episode Heavy Competition was super pleasurable.


The writers of The Office seem to love The Wire, and I do, too. After several false starts (I watched the first six episodes like three times each before committing. Hey, sometimes its hard to commit, what can I say. But when I fall, I fall hard.) I have just finished Season Two, and I am hooked. Even for those not that into cop dramas, I recommend this show. There are a crazy number of characters and they are all pretty well filled in, and some are habit forming. Like most great modern television shows, the setting has become a character and this Baltimore is fun to watch. In fact, the fun factor is increased by how little you would actually want to be in this city. Last week's Modern Love was about The Wire, and that was great. However, I believe that there are better odes to the show, Baltimore, and the complex characters residing there. Maybe later this summer, after the MCAT, I'll put some serious time into writing one. I'm so glad I have three seasons left to watch. Please, no spoilers.

The reason this The Office was so good was that it was a pastiche of The Wire. Watching the fierce Idris Elba (aka Stringer Bell) play the boss that pitted Michael Scott and Dwight Schrute against each other in underhanded dealings was awesome. If you are a writer for The Office and the main story line has come to resolution what do you do? Apparently, you think of the best show you know and just copy that. It is a sweet little feat given the total disjuncture in material. I just felt all my University of Texas RTF vocabulary come flooding back. Some graduate student could have a ball with this. Which brought me to the conclusion, wouldn't my life be better if all those graduate students just spent their time and energy making great tv instead of writing about it?

Well, its been a good week nonetheless: a fun website back up (to me) and some great television viewing, so I'll take my winnings and walk away.

Rainy days and Mondays Part duex

It is raining buckets here. Real sheets of rain, Houston style. Whoa!

Also, it is a nice Spring rain, the smell of dirt is in the air. I am so ready for summer I might burst.

Rainy days and Mondays

Today is a very rainy Monday and the day of my last Orgo lab, the last lab of my pre-medical career.

I arrived on time, but just barely. I took out my pencil, pen and lab book and put on my lab coat before locking the rest of my belongings into my assigned lab locker.

Then I realized that instead of my lab book what I had was my lab manual. I went back to the locker and stared at my lock with a vague idea of what the combination was, very vague. Because it was written down in my lab book, I hadn't bothered to give up any valuable real estate in the memorizing crap part of my brain, things are pretty tight in there this year.

The combination included a 15 and a zero, and either 30 or 35. I tried several permutations of those three or four numbers, but success alluded me. There are at least 12 possibilities and it is possible that in my cold sweat I repeatedly tried the same three.

Lab is stressful enough: time constraint, grading for mixing chemicals, ugg, and without the book I would not be able to do the lab or turn in a lab report. It was bad news. I chose not to panic, but it was a hard choice. Panic was looking good. So were tears.

I walked into class and told the lady who runs it what happened. First, she thought I had lost my book and tried to give me an orphan edition. Then she pointed to the lock cutter, and said that they had it for a reason. She is a petite woman and the other lab tech is a tall water polo player. She told me that she had never used the bolt cutter before because he always did. But he wasn't around. It took a few attempts, and after the second, she told me that the cutter was heavier than she thought. Imagine a small woman holding a bolt cutter over her head. The lock kept slipping, but the cutter prevailed.

She was pretty happy with herself for cutting a lock. I was pretty happy to get my lab book.

Word from the Slope

Yesterday was the absolute prettiest day of the 2009 so far. It reached 77 degrees fahrenheit in Brooklyn and the sun was out until almost eight pm.

I spent the better part of the afternoon in the park (yeaaay), studying (boo).
While sitting on my awesome portable bamboo mat, I observed a teenage boy hit a baseball, and that baseball fly straight into the face of a five-year-old who happened to be cutting across the meadow with his mother. The kid got hit dead on.

My first thought was that the child might drop dead (think Owen Meany, people). Instead, he started to cry, hard. Perhaps there was a quick apology from the hitter. But the mother started screaming at the hitter. As soon as she did, a middle aged man who was playing with the teenagers, maybe the pitcher, started screaming back.

Mom yelled a lot. Dad told her that it was all her fault for cutting across the field instead of taking the path around. Mom told him to look around, that the whole park was crowded and people were sitting all around his game (it was super crowded). Mom told Dad that he didn't own the park. Dad told Mom that she didn't own the park. Dad said he was only yelling because Mom had started yelling. Mom asked why they didn't even apologize for hitting her kid. At first, I was definitely on the mom's side. People should be apologetic when they accidentally hit little kids in the face.

As the mom was yelling the little kid ran away crying. Well, crying and cursing the baseball players. He just kept calling them A-holes. It was sort of funny see a little kid with such a filthy mouth.

The hitter walked off and got an icy from the helado cart.

About the point it looked like the parents might start throwing punches, a police SUV drove by on its regular patrol of the park. The lady realized she had lost her kid and made a half hearted attempt to call him back. But instead of actually finding her kid she ran over to the cops. I couldn't hear what she said.

Once the Mom lost her kid, she also lost my sympathy. Keep your priorities straight, lady!

So the cop drives into the meadow and tells the dad that the game is over. This dad doesn't just move on like a rational person, he argues with the cop. He asks why the kids on the next meadow can play soccer. It was crazy, I thought he might get himself arrested. Finally, the kid with the icecream comes over and tells his dad to chill, repeatedly.

It was an exciting day in the Slope.

Epilogue

The mom left and I assume she found her bruised child. The baseball players walked by me on the way out the park. One of the other players kept yelling, "He did it. He did it." and pointing to the hitter. When he said it to me, I said, "I know. I saw." Then the dad jumped in to tell me how unfair it was that they had to quit their game. The dad started talking about all the other kids playing sports in the park, and I regretted saying anything. He blamed that woman for being so mad and crazy. I said, "I think she was mad because her kid got hit in the face."

The dad pointed out that they were playing with a wiffle ball and that the kid was just stunned. That was the piece I needed to put the puzzle together. Had it been a real baseball that kid would not have been running around cursing, he would not have been moving. If they had been playing with a real ball, as it had appeared, in a park that crowded, they would have been on their way to committing manslaughter.

The dad just kept repeating that the kid was only stunned. I'm not sure that made it all OK, but it made him seem less unreasonable. Also, it made that mom look like a worse mom.

Then the hitter told his dad that that was just how white people had to act about things. One of the other teenagers looked at me and pointed back to the hitter and said, "He's the one who said that."

After that last comment you might be wondering, and because this is Brooklyn, if I didn't tell you you would have no way of guessing:
Dad: grumpy old jewish guy
Mom: white affluent Park Slope stroller mom
Both the hitter and the kid who got hit in the face: that A-Rod/Jeter hard to guess look
All the other baseball players: black teenagers

It was a great day of people behaving badly in the park.

a foreign land of big steaks and bold Tex-Mex, and Texas ladies

Frank Bruni visited Houston and wrote up Feast as one of the bold new restaurants making the US a great place to eat. In the review, he refers to Houston as "a foreign land of big steaks and bold Tex-Mex". Maybe foreign was written in regard to the Britons running the restaurant but foreign might as well refer to the New Yorker's take on Texas, a whole 'nother country. What I thought was funny and notable was that these restauranteurs had landed in Houston because of the "American" (let's be honest, Texan) women they loved. It is known that people come to Houston for the energy and medical industries, but Texas ladies are an underrepresented asset as well. Yes, we leave, but then we come back, and apparently not alone.

It is f-in' snowing in Brooklyn right now, on April 8th

I was just at a coffee shop and it sort of looked like it was snowing outside. I though, "No, this is April. Those must be little white flowers falling."

Then, the lady next to me asked the waitress if it was snowing. The waitress said that it was just little white buds from that tree, and she pointed. The lady looked very relieved.

But, guess what! I just got home and those white things that I can see falling outside my window that overlooks an alley are definitly snowflakes. Nothing is sticking but there are no trees with white buds around.

The snow just lasted a few minutes. But, really, what is that all about! It is April, people.

Spring is here

It was a beautiful day here in Park Slope and I spent the afternoon (studying) in the park.

I was sitting on a wonderful bamboo mat, just one of many spectacular purchases from H&M, when a girl ran by with a man who was carrying a costume unicorn head. Someone yelled at them to slow down and wait, and I, too, waited to see what that was all about. A few more nondescript adults followed.

A while later, a man in a furry white suit came up to them and asked what the plan was. They replied, "We've just been standing here waiting for you."

I thought it was funny. Because if you are at the park with a unicorn head, who else could you be waiting for?

You've got to admit its getting better

Spring is coming (I hope). And things are looking up.

As some of you know, I wrote my education master's thesis on Alice Waters' program The Edible Schoolyard. It is a lovely example of how we can all live better and raise our children to be healthier, happier and more responsible citizens of planet Earth, mainly by growing and eating veggies.

Quickly following the November victory Alice Waters wrote an Open Letter to the Obamas imploring them, among other things, to plant a Victory garden. Well, this week Michelle put on some of her more rugged J. Crew dudds and picked up a shovel.

For whatever reason, I am having the same cathartic reaction to this that I had in November.

So I leave you with the words of the late, great 2Pac (we still miss you Pac):

We gotta make a change...
It's time for us as a people to start makin' some changes.
Let's change the way we eat, let's change the way we live
and let's change the way we treat each other.
You see the old way wasn't working so it's on us to do
what we gotta do, to survive.

(changes)

I'm so sleeppy

Man, Spring Forward comes along every year when I do not want to lose on hour most. It's like its been sitting there for five months waiting to sucker punch me. Why oh why can't you be more like Fall Back and make my life better and not worse for once, Spring Forward? It was nice and warm here yesterday, like maybe this time things would be different, maybe this time Spring Forward would be an extra hour of light when I could use it best, playing frisbee in the park, spending time on reopened decks late into prime time. But I see that it is going to rain for the next four days. Did it really look like I needed this?

It might still be winter, but I have found some Sun

I first encountered Sunbutter in an United Airlines snack box along with dried fruit and crackers, and it made me wonder why airline food is usually so horrible. We just need to go ahead and accept that a mile off the ground is not the time to share a hot meal with a few hundred other passengers. There are plenty of great camping snacks more suitable to the circumstances, so lets embrace the ruggedness of commercial air and enjoy the best trail mix possible. JetBlue has embraces this philosophy with great snacks and no meals. If you want a burger (and you are lucky(?) enough to be flying out of LAX) get yourself an In-n-Out for the road. (Oh man, I could go for a grilled cheese about now. I could also go for some warm California sun, I guess I have the end of winter blues.)

Sunbutter is great. Yes, like most processed peanut butters, it has some added sugar and an emulsifier. But it is totally craveable, and there are no unprocessed options, so I choose to overlook that. Try it on an apple for dessert or a salty cracker for lunch. Yum, yum Sunbutter. And from the sunflower seed, who knew!

As a foil to A-rod, sunflower seeds are a pretty lame part of Baseball that turn out to have to have secret appeal. They usually come salted and in the shell. They are a huge pain to eat, but you do consume your fiber for the week. Or, you can spit out the shell and leave a huge mess. I find this is overwhelmingly the technique of the guy sitting next to me at Mets games. Its pretty gross to then step over a huge pile of shells covered in someone else's spit. Eww.

But it turns out that sunflower seeds clean up real nice after the game. My new favorite food is choclate covered sunflower seeds. They are like mini, oblong M&Ms, but even better. They taste like a slightly upscale peanut butter M&M. You are thinking, well that can't be improved upon. Well it can, its called a Sunny Seed Drop and it is delicious.

Rage against the Dining Section

Yes, I spent my morning darning a mitten while sitting next to a girl doing needlepoint, at the laundry mat. Somehow the most bourgeois of activities have become hip(ster). Well, we are brooklyn and that's how we roll.

But, really, do we roll this pretentious? In my heart I know we do. But, nonetheless, lets look at what is totally obnoxious about these people.

“Ten years ago all of these people hadn’t moved to Brooklyn yet,” she added, comparing Brooklyn today to Berkeley in the 1970s. "

Ahh, to be a pioneer.

From what I've gathered from Ruth Reichl, Berkeley in the 70's was about making recipes from Diet for a Small Planet edible and eating garbage to reduce human impact on the earth as much as it was about eating locally.

So what is the difference? One is using your trust fund to buy a warehouse and not working for a year while you reverse engineer a trade that people across the river are learning the traditional ways in French kitchens, one of the more self important behaviors of this city and the other is about the future of humans on this planet.

If you want to act like Martha Stewart, don't pretend that you are Harvey Milk. That's really all I'm asking.

Thanks, Regis

Who's the winner? I am! That's who!

There is the strangest phenomena a few blocks from me: a drive-thru bank in Park Slope. A parking lot is a big investment among high rent, low square-footage, fancy boutiques on a block of multi-million dollar brown stones. But nevertheless Commerce Bank, in their quest to be the most convenient, went for in car banking. Risky, but a parking lot in Brooklyn certainly gets your attention. I hear from a little policeanado birdie that Commerce Bank also takes big risks with their floor plans. Against all recommendations of the NYPD, the entryways are big and open and the windows are floor to ceiling.

In this banking climate it does not pay to take risks, and Commerce Bank has suddenly become TD bank. Those of you that live in international communities will know that stands for Toronto-Dominion Bank. Yes, it is happening, we are being invaded by Canada.

However, other than the name, it appears nothing has changed. They are still open on Sundays and they still have dog treats at the counter along with the lollipops. But, most importantly, they still have the Penny Arcade, the change counter. Some of you may remember the ads several years ago, before Julia Lewis Dreyfus broke the Seinfeld curse with "Old Christine", of her walking down the street with a purse full o' silver and cashing in at Commerce bank.

Well, Penny is awesome. She is a cartoon character that guides the packrat spendthrift through the process of putting coins in the machine while sorting out the garbage and valuables that may have been stored with the coins. Before the real fun begins, she prompts the depositor to guess how much coinage they have brought in to turn into real money. If your guess is within $1.99 of the combined total, you win a prize.

Well guess what? I won. I took in all the coins on my nightstand as well as the remnants of a pre-washingmachinecard roll of quarters. I guessed $32.45. Penny doesn't give the final count until all the change has been counted so I missed out on the suspense of see the numbers match up. But still, nothing uplifts a rainy day like winning something. The final count was $32.53. Woo Woo!

At the counter I exchanged my receipt for money.

Teller: How would you like this?
Me: In bills?

She gave me a twenty a ten and a few ones and coins and smiled. Then I asked for my prize.

Me: Look, I'm a winner
Teller: Would you like one of those plastic things you put money in?
Me: What?

She held up a plastic child's bank with the TD logo on it. I looked at that piece of landfill and said, no I did not want it. She gave me a look of silent agreement and shoved several packets of after-dinner mints and a magnet (shown above) at me.

Sometimes winning is its own reward.

Oh, and FYI, Regis and Kelly are all over the ads for TD bank.

It's never too early to start

This is just one of the many stories I live everyday where I help people and spread my love of coffee.


Overheard in the ladies' room

Woman in restroom: You OK in there, Melinda?
Voice in stall: Yeah, I just need a minute.
W: Well you think you could hurry it up. I didn't bring you all this way to New York so that you could sit in a restroom stall. You could have done that at home.
V: You know how it is. You know how I am.
W: You need to eat more fiber. There's not much fiber in chocolate covered pretzels.
V: Yeah, but they're good.
(At this point I am washing my reuseable coffee cup in the sink so that I can go and get my third cup of the day)
Me: (to the woman) you can always drink more coffee.
W: That works, but she's only ten.
Me: It's never too early to start.
W: (to me) She does like it. We try to keep it away from her. Well that's an idea.
(to the girl): You want to get one of those frappuccino things?
V: I want one.
W: Well you have to come out of the restroom.
V: Just a little more time.
W: We can always come back. Let's go get drinks, then we can come back later.

GFP's are wack

Last year a professor at Columbia won the Nobel Prize for adapting the Green Fluorescent Protein (GFP) naturally found in jellyfish for use as a genetic marker. It's pretty exciting, but maybe it wouldn't need to be mentioned every single week in my bio and orgo classes if he wasn't at Columbia.

But I just saw this photo and am blase no more. GFP's are wack! This is messed up. Look at those rats. Someone spliced their genes so that when their bodies make certain proteins they also make glow protein attached to the end. I look at these glowing rat babies and more and more life feels like a sci-fi. All I'm asking is: When are Jack and Chloe gonna show up?

Overheard in Brooklyn

No. 1) In Gorilla Coffee

Dude: I'd like a large, regular coffee.
Barista: You want one large and one regular coffee?
Dude: No, just one large coffee: regular.
Barista: And by regular you mean with milk and sugar?
Dude: Oh well I guess that is regular here, but I didn't think in here. I just meant I want a coffee, not a cappuccino or whatever.

No. 2) On a brownstone lined street

Lady with two five year old boys: There is a lot of frozen dog poop around here and now that it is warming up the dog poop isn't frozen anymore, and that means it will squish and if it squishes on anyone's shoe that will be a forty cent penalty and that penalty can be raised if I see fit.