Reasons to Hate New York
Look, there are a lot of reasons to love New York City, but this place is also a motherfucking HARD place to live.
I find myself thinking, "If I lived in Buffalo, the rent that I pay now would buy me a beautiful mansion instead of a one-bedroom closet next to a woman who blasts salsa music and has a photo of Jesus posted on her door."
Or, "If I lived in Buffalo, I wouldn't be checking my mattress for bedbugs for the FOURTH TIME this weekend."
Or, "If I lived in Buffalo, I wouldn't have to put all of my clothing into a sack and carry down the street, over my shoulder to the laundromat like I'm fucking Santa Claus and then sit on a wooden bench squeezed in next to a tower of broken laundry baskets for 2 hours every time I want clean underwear."
All of this shit, is, of course, white people problems. Oh, my fabulous life is so hard. I have to live in the most exciting city in the world in an apartment BY MYSELF with exposed brick walls and a magazine job where I get to be in close proximity to celebrities for free.
It's called PERSPECTIVE, and sometimes I lose it.
But, I will say this: the number one reason to hate New York happened to me on the subway tonight.
As usual, the F train was crowded.
We all pile in, because GOD ONLY KNOWS when the next one will be coming down the track (read: probably never). We are all packed in so tightly that I'm worried that I'm going to get accidentally impregnated by someone (IF YOU SEE SOMETHING, SAY SOMETHING).
I look over the shoulder of the girl in front of me, mainly because my chin is resting on her shoulder and it was otherwise unavoidable. She is texting someone on her phone. This is one of those keyboard phones made for teenagers who love to text and hate their parents (read: the text is MEGA small), but still—I can read every word she types.
"Oh baby, u know how to make me so horny."
Yo, where is the goddamned emergency break up in this car? I should never be able to see sexts like that from strangers on a Monday at 7pm.
You know where this wouldn't happen?