Childproofing.
I was recently in desperate need of scissors. After selecting an ideal pair I went home to use them. Much to my dismay, I was faced with this challenge: How do I open the child-proof, theft-proof, tear proof plastic packaging without a pair of scissors??
So you’re moving.
Well unless you enjoy being taken advantage of on the most stressful day you’ve had all year, you’re in for a bumpy ride.
With only two NYC, post college moves under my belt, I now I have a ‘blacklist’ of, you guessed it, two moving companies. What’s that? You’d like me to tell you which companies so that you may avoid them in your upcoming move?
Well I have good news and bad news. The bad news: my roommates and I settled with the first company, and in exchange for a partial refund, we agreed to stop leaving them angry messages, and never mention their name again. The good news: the second company (that recently screwed us at the end of August 2011), is “A & A Alliance Moving,” but you might know them by their kitschier name, “Two Guys and a Truck.”
If you have any common sense at all, you will heed my advice and avoid this company. Like everyone else with an upcoming move, my roommate and I researched, called around, acquired estimates, left ample time to pack, and were ready to be moved on 8/31.
My first clue should have been that different people kept calling me from the company using different numbers, and one person seemed to have no idea that I had already arranged a move with the other person.
To keep a long story short, I will bullet point the sequence of events that followed:
-they called the night before and let me know they needed to show up 2 hrs late (which was fine because we still needed to sign the lease and get the key! oops…)
-they called me back the morning of, saying they would be there at the original time
-I told them no, that wouldn’t work, we had already adjusted our schedule to accommodate them
-they told me we had no choice but to change to the second appointment of the day
-I agreed
-mistake.
-it got later and later in the day, and after being yelled and cussed at by their angry Russian boss, they finally showed up
-it was 5:30pm when more angry Russians showed up at our apartment, looked around, and decided THEY WERE NOT GOING TO MOVE US
-haha, what? my roommate and I looked around in disbelief
-they then had the balls to ask for $100 extra per mover (just a little incentive. I guess they were feeling ‘unmotivated’)
-they then assured us they would be back in the morning, with an extra guy, that would save us time and money
-we were skeptical.
-they actually showed up.
-they are now “Four Guys and a Truck”
-the head guy likes to argue, which is slightly amusing at first, but quickly grows tiresome
-eventually the truck is loaded, and we are on our way
-we tell them we will meet them at the new apartment
-mistake.
-for some reason it took them two hours to drive from Sunnyside, Queens to Washington Heights
-we call.
-they ask US for directions
(-my theory: they had themselves a sit-down-lunch)
-I regret not following them in a cab
-they arrive
-my roommate, a friend and myself end up sitting in a corner awkwardly watching them move our belongings, and intermittently shooting each other meaningful and ironic looks
-at some point they decide it will take 3 of them to put together a piece of IKEA furniture; and at this point the moving of our items has come to a standstill. when my roommate asks if maybe two people can work on assembling the furniture and the other two can move our belongings, the ornery, combative leader says to us word for word, “You wanna help?” (“No mo-fo. That’s why we hired you.”)
-this day was also interspersed with angry phone calls during which their boss tried to make excuses for their 2 hrs of travel time (NOT during rush hour), and actually hung up on us. yes, that’s right, a grown man yelling inaudibly and hanging up the phone.
-eventually they left, and a move that had been estimated once online AND once in person was now at least $300 more than we were told it would be
Yes, we all know, that if you’re moving, you will likely be taken advantage of, especially if they claim to have the “best deal around,” however, if you “make friends before you move,” you can sit around in the corner of your new apartment shooting each other meaningful and ironic looks as you text back and forth about how much you can’t wait for the day to be over.
People who wear Toms.
We get it. You give to charity. Good for you. But do you really have to rub it in everyone’s face? I myself have 7 pairs of Toms. But where are they, you might ask? In my closet. I know I can’t wear them out of my apartment because it would be a pretentious statement: “Look at me! I paid way too much for a pair of canvas shoes. Well actually two pairs of shoes; cause see what they do is…”
And not only do you get tricked into charity by the allure of being able to prove to people you’re charitable; you are then tricked into advertising FOR the charity every time you slip on your Toms. What a tactless “American” idea.
Mr. Tom is either a genius, or a master at mind control.
Why wear the pants at all?
I never considered myself a prude; but then again, I don’t remember ever thinking as an early 2000’s middle school student that sagging would come back around for a second chance.
Sometimes guys just sag slightly, so everyone can view their ironically comic drawers. This is sort of cute. But it quickly turns vulgar as the band of the jeans comes down past the apex of the buttocks. I feel inappropriate when I find myself staring at the derrieres of my neighborhood gang members. Then I look up, and I can’t decide if they’re ditching school, or hanging out on the corner is their full time job… How old are these guys? Am I some sort of pedophile? Jesus, pull up your pants so I can stop staring at that train wreak!
How did it all start anyways? Someone grew out of their jeans too quickly? A young boy’s mother didn’t have enough fabric, and convinced him sagging would be a stylish way to compensate?
It’s an epidemic people, and it’s got to stop.
P.S. I was just kidding about being a pedophile. Everyone knows only a male can be a pedophile.
Call you back?
I am so tired of people calling me, and leaving a message about nothing. If you’re going to make me go through the hassle of dialing my voicemail only to hear you say, “It’s me, call me back,” then I seriously question weather I want any further communication with you. Obviously, if I see that you’ve called, I will assume you want me to call you back.
The act of leaving a message is for important information that must be shared with the listener as soon as possible. Use it sparingly.
Are you my mom or my friend?
I don’t doubt at all that kids can wind up being ‘friendly’ with their parents. But to all of the adults who are on facebook: STOP “FRIENDING” YOUR KIDS. It’s straight up confusing. How do you expect your children to respect you when they see you blabbing your life to the whole world on a social network like a 12 year old?
When will facebook stop changing?
They’re always make some major change. At first they give you the option to conform it or not. They ease people into a “new way of doing things,” assuring you that “things will be better this time.” Then gradually, as the message pops up more and more frequently, and they see the masses relent, and change over for fear of seeing that infernal message one more time, they all of a sudden force you into the change.
One day you log onto facebook, totally unsuspecting, and they’ve done it. Just when you thought you figured out where everything was from the last change, you’re frantically searching around to respond to a “friend” you haven’t seen in 4 years, and never really talked to anyways, about why you can’t come to her engagement party.
*dislike
You know what really bunches my panties??
Guys who wear white socks with dress shoes.
So it’s a normal day. I walk into the 7 train, take a seat, and what do I see but a short stubby man who’s feet could barely touch the floor, sporting this ‘look.’ Who raised you to think this was acceptable? My own father once missed a business meeting, because he discovered he forgot to pack dress socks!!
Perhaps the rules of male attire were lost sometime back in the 1950’s, or maybe the sock rule is some sort of secret that the rest of the world keeps hidden from the good people of Queens, but I have to say, nothing excites me more than taking a trip downtown towards Fi-Di, where the men understand the benefits of a good pair of socks.
