Update

 Time, time, time; it's one of the few things that I don't seem to have enough of these days. Even as I write this, I'm sitting at the office waiting for a taxi so that I can go home, go to sleep, then get up and come back to work in a few hours. *sigh* But hey, it's the job I chose, so now I have to live with it. I think I'm about ready to retire.

What's new in this neck of the woods? Oh, our landlord's company has finally decided to play hardball. After offering us free rent for December because of a myriad of problems and deficiencies in the building, our landlord reneged and is now requesting December rent from all tenants. Of course, we replied that a deal was a deal and we didn't appreciate the company's attempts to weasel its way out, but to no avail. Everyone who didn't pay was served with a five-day notice that we could either pay December or be sued. We're opting for the second option (since the landlord has no case). Still haven't gotten the legal papers yet, but I assume they'll be coming in the mail shortly. For some reason, I'm looking forward it! I think the New York spirit of defiance has finally worked its way into my bones.

In other news, it is now official that the Michael Jackson trial is getting far too much coverage, people seem amazed that a pope who's older than Methusela is having health problems, Manhattan apartments are overpriced to the point of absurdity, American Idol blows more than usual, and I encounter more strange scenarios at the urinal that anyone else I know (tune in this weekend for more on that one). In any event, my car is past due, so it should be downstairs shortly. Check back Sunday for some of my old-fashioned griping, questioning, analysis, etc. Till then . . .

Fashion Rant

 I could blog about the ludicrous plan to privatize social security or the growing influence of evangelical fear-mongering in our government, but today I feel like tackling something a little lighter; fashion.

If you live in New York, you probably see a few of these everyday. The colder it gets, the more of them you see. However, even when the temperature climbs into the low 50s (as it did yesterday), a handful of them linger, their owners unwilling to toss them in the closet or, better yet, burn them to a crisp. You see them on young and old, though they seem to be favored by the 20-something professional crowd. They are a ubiquitous presence in our city, but each person who has one wears it with such an attitude of defiance that it seems they hardly realize that everyone else has the same one. Yes folks, I'm talking about the Burberry Scarf. It has managed to play itself out more quickly than those infamous Louis Vitton bags that every fag and hag with a couple of bucks and a contact in Chinatown has been walking around with for the past 5 years.  

I have to admit that the first time I saw one, I thought they were kinda nice. However, one can take only so much plaid hanging around the neck of seemingly every passerby before getting sick of it. It's gotten so bad that now I cringe every time I see one (which, given their popularity, is quite often). So I'm sending out an appeal. If you know someone with a Burberry (or imitation) scarf, please reach out to them and let them know just how horrible it looks. If you own one yourself, it's not too late to seek help. Just PLEASE stop wearing it, if for no other reason than to make this little blogger happy.