More pics from my trip to NY

Coz I know y'all wanted to see where I went and what I did ;-)

Stayed in a hostel 2 blocks from the 103rd Street subway station

The entrance to Saint Thomas Church on 5th Avenue

Times Square - New York's Picadilly Circus

The old with the new in New York

The Empire State Building - looking up

The Empire State Building - looking down toward Manhattan

We waited in line for over 2 hours to board a ferry to see the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island - and it was COLD

The ferries to Liberty and Ellis Island were absolutely jam-packed

The Manhattan skyline looks very different without the WTC towers

Give me your hungry, the health, the serene, but please for the love of God just make sure that they're clean

If you look closely through the window, you can see the Manhattan skyline

At one point in history, up to 5,000 immigrants used to be processed daily here at Ellis Island

Corner of Ellis Island - I love this building

Average rent for a Park Avenue studio apartment: $2700/month (about R21,000 a month)

Seven years later and there's still nothing where the World Trade Center towers used to be

A cool advertising message on the side of a building

Central Park looks a little dead in the winter

We went to the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) and I saw lots of Picassos - and you're allowed to take photos

No trip to New York is complete unless you've seen a giant rat

Off the hook

My cell phone, in no way, shape, or form looks like this. And just as well. Can you imagine having to lug this thing around all day?

How times have changed, even from December of last year

"How so?" I hear you ask.

Well, for one, my phone actually rings quite often these days. I have been tapping contacts, sending out the resume, and people are actually responding. Economic depression? Apparently not.

Two interviews done, two phone interviews done, one more phone interview coming up today, and a few more interviews lined up for next wekk. Hopefully one of these calls will lead to job offer.

They call from the west coast to the east, and yesterday I even received one from the midwest. I didn't know they even had cell phones there. or maybe they still use the ones like in the picture above. Who knows.

Come on little cell phone of good news, ring again.

Start spreading the news ...

So the day I was fired, I hopped on a Greyhound bound for New York, you know, City of Lights, never-ending fun and excitement. Now I don't know about you, but I love New York. I love everything New York. And yes, even the New Yorkers.

So I arrived cold and tired and knowing I only had a few days in the greatest city on the face of the planet, I had an itinerary.

First I went to see the Statue of Liberty. I've been before, twice in fact, but it was a beautiful day, blue skies blah blah blah, so I waited in line for two hours. Yes, two hours in line to board the ferry. Finally it was my turn. Two hours in line for a 20 minute stroll around around a green statue.

Then I was Eliis Island-bound. I thought it apt as I am an immigrant to the U.S. so why not visit the place where most Americans can trace some history to? Did you know that at one stage, up to 5000 immigrants would pass through Ellis Island a day from Europe? poor souls had to endure medical tests and have to know just one English word: "yes". This was important because the immigration official would ask them when they arrived if they had enough money to support themselves until they found work. The answer was normally, "yes", and this was good enough for the guy behind the desk. How times have changed.

Next on my itinerary was MoMA. For you uncultured souls, MoMA is the Museum of Modern Art. Now I don't claim to be some fine art afficienado, but I recognise and appreciate good art. I didn't find it here. I walked in and immediately saw a series of five cars hanging from the ceiling. Apparently the artist was protesting the war in Iraq. Yes, I would have guessed that.

The I dragged my skinny carcass over to the Guggenheim - another museum. A much better museum with art that is, well, art. The Guggenheim is not as striking as MoMA but it sure is home to some great pieces. I spent hours in there and eventually I needed to sit down. "NOT THERE! THAT"S A WORK OF ART!" Excuse me for being a lowly peasant. I needed to rest my weary feet and I saw a chair. But behold for she is not a chair!

Then it was on to a New York institution - Caroline's Comedy Club for a bit of hahahaha. Grand evening had by all except for the idiot who decided to sit right in the front so that the comedian could pick on him.

Then sleep. Then off to Times Square. Ooh look at all the pretty lights. Then back to the Greyhound station to head back home, tired, jobless, to two hungry cats.

The best part about getting fired

The best part about getting fired is that it frees you up, quite suddenly I might add, to do all the things you have been meaning to do but just haven't found the time.

Such as polishing up your resume. Very important as you never know when you might need to send that little beast out to prospective pay check providers.

Or sweeping under your fridge because for months and months you've been busy trying not to get fired, and in the process have neglected the floor under the fridge.

Take a vacation. Not an expensive one, mind you. You'll need money at some point so be a spend thrift.

Do that extra load of laundry.

Catch up on your favorite TV shows.

Sleep in late. This is one of my all-time favorite things to do. Work was hampering that.

Catch up on your correspondence to your prison pen pals. Poor buggers probably think you've forgotten about them.

IT'S A BOY!

In about five months, it will be time for my brother-in-law to start handing out cigars. I don’t care how ‘socially irresponsible’ that may be, it’s a tradition. And like all traditions, it should be respected, and repeated.

My sister is having a baby boy in August. Yes avid readers, this shall be her second offspring, her contribution to the world.

And once again, that question sneakily creeps in from my father: So son, when are you going to get married and give me grandchildren?

Well father, can I adopt them from some third world Asian country, as appears to be all the rage? Or perhaps a poor African child?

A puzzled look crawls all over his face. My father does not realize that I do not intend to work my skinny ass off so that I may be able to buy a small house somewhere and have some woman claim it as hers in an unfair divorce agreement.

Call me cynical (okay don’t, Cynical is not my real name), but I don’t believe in marriage – not when 50% of them end in divorce. And then the poor guy is forced to start all over again while his ex wife lives in the house that HE paid for, living with HIS dogs that HE raised. And all for what? No thanks. Give me the kids, sure. I’d like a kid. Maybe two. But not the hassle of a nagging wife.

But this posting has taken a rather sour turn. It started off happy and with much rejoicing for my sister was announcing to the world that she is with child. A boy child at that.

“If you look at the scan, you can see his willy,” she proclaimed.

“Where? I don’t see it. But holy crap he has a big head.” I replied.

“No man, down there. See it?”

“Um, no.”

Now I feel like a pervert. I need to go look at pictures of kittens and puppies on cake tin lids to purify my eyes.

Beware, for it is Tax Season

As the economically viable beings scurry, the citizens and residents start to panic for once a year, every year, a dark grey cloud covers the nation for an entire lunar month.

Behold, this month shall be hence forth known as March, a.k.a. Tax Month.

Forms to fill, lies to tell, Ts to cross and Is to dot. But beware, do not fool yourself my child, for Uncle Sam is watching you. He is watching each and every one of you. He is waiting for you to dutifully pay your annual dues. Because it is not enough that we, the mere peasants of the land, have to pay taxes on our monthly salaries, and general sales tax on each and every item we purchase.

No! Our pay slips are taken and rung out, much like a wet towel, to drain us of every spare penny we may be hoarding away for a rainy day. Uncle Sam sees them. And he wants them. By the end of the month.

St. Patty's *hic* Day

Ah yes, bless the Irish. Petrol Bombs and Blarney Stones, Four leaf clovers and Guinness. The only country in the world where only a minority speak the official first language.

The Irish Week:
Monday: It's the day after Sunday, you can't be expected to do much that day.

Tuesday: Bear in mind that doing nothing on Monday has got you out of the 'work groove' and you're pretty tried from waking up two days in a row.

Wednesday: It's nearly Thursday, there's not much point in starting something new.

Thursday: The real weekend. You will probably drink tonight , ergo it's the weekend.

Friday: Work? After all that drink last night? Are you mad?