One Way or Another...

I just had a fantastic weekend. And when I say "fantastic", I mean "I saw Blondie". Yes, Blondie - "Heart of Glass" Blondie, Deborah Harry Blondie. Turns out we have similar musical taste (I always knew it!). This brush with destiny occured at an Heloise and the Savoir Faire show at the Annex on Saturday night (side note to the Annex: Your munchkin-sized drinks were cute and all, but if I'm going to shell out almost 10 bucks for a Jack and Coke, please give me a big-girl glass). Of course, I forgot my camera. Curses! Another reason to have it surgically attached...

Blondie's presence at the show reaffirmed for me the absolute and undeniable awesomeness of Heloise and the Savoir Faire. If Pat Benetar and Cyndi Lauper had a love child, the product would be Heloise. If Prince and Bob Fosse had a pair of fraternal love twins, the product would be the Savoir Faire. (Honestly, since we're in the realm of genetic fairy land, you could add a dash of the Clash for a little bad-assedness.) These kids put on a KILLER show! The songs are catchy, but not in the irritating, get-out-of-my-head kind of way. Heloise has a serious set of pipes on her - add to that some excellent choreography and you've got one helluva show.

The place was superpackedwithverylittledancingroom, but I still had a great time. I should qualify this statement: I am not a fan of live music. After the Mosh Pit Incident of 2002, I have avoided concerts for the most part. I hate crowds, and honestly would much rather jam out to my iPod 99% of the time. It doesn't charge me a cover, or $9 for a thimble-sized drink. But I was so entertained, and their music unleashed my dormant Child of the 80s (who's been watching "Pretty in Pink" on tape and making friendship bracelets in a dark corner of my mind for almost 20 years) and dammit! She thinks these guys are rad! She's making me go to their next show (June 9th at Midway - 25 Ave. B), and she thinks you should go, too. Totally.

One last bit of awesomeness: I went to the after-party with the band (okay, I tailed the band) and about 80 of their closest friends at a teeny-tiny bar on the Lower East Side. I was enjoying myself - imbibing in some properly-sized alcoholic beverages. The music at the place had been great all evening, and a particularly excellent tune started playing. I looked down the bar and, made eye contact with the DJ, and gave him the "right on!" head nod. He nodded back. Let me rephrase that: Elijah Wood nodded back. Double-take. Yes, that was Elijah mother f'in Wood. Turns out that Heloise is on his label. And he likes DJing. And he's a pretty bad-ass DJ. And once again, the universe makes sense.




Rock on, Frodo. Rock on.

About the Jackie Chan thing...

I realize that the title of my blog might be a little esoteric. I mean, I'm not actually Jackie Chan. Sorry to disappoint - especially if you came here in hopes of finding the online musings of the GREATEST MARTIAL ARTS ACTION STAR ALIVE TODAY!! Allow me to shed a little light on the story behind the title:

A long, long time ago (okay, not so long ago. honestly, it was about a year ago), I was an elementary school teacher in a far away land known as the South Bronx. In a moment of rash, mid-twenties angst, I had enlisted in a program designed to pluck lily-white college grads from cushy entry-level corporate jobs and plop them down in some of the worst schools in the worst neighborhoods in New York City. We were equipped with some basic tools during a quickie 6-week prep course, then cut loose to inflict our new "teaching" skills upon thousands of unsuspecting NYC school children. For me, what ensued was two consecutive years of hell, from which I only received brief moments of respite. I wrote a blog about one of these moments shortly after it happened:

I'm on a sweet 11 day Spring Break. My plans include lowering the bar of slothfulness, and... yeah, right now that's my only plan. When I go back to P.S. 666, I'll only have 2 months left in my sentence, er, contract. That's pretty frickin' awesome. So, here's the latest updates from the trenches:

* The Slap Heard Round the Classroom: There's this terrible kindergarten class. And by terrible, I mean if Satan himself walked into the classroom as a sub, he'd be all like, "Oh, f*ck this" in like five minutes. You have to see them in action to fully appreciate it. One incident from this class I can put into words. There was this one kid (who's since been removed from the school) who was one of the ringleaders. He cursed like a sailor, defied all authority, and basically had the run of the classroom. I was in the room one day, reading the class a story. Little Future Inmate was doing his usual routine - running laps around the room, occassionally stopping to strike another kid. Finally, I got sick of it. I caught him, carried his naughty little butt to a wee chair (remember how wee all the furniture was in kindergarten?), plopped it down, and began to tear him a new one. Somewhere in the middle of my detailed explanation of what he could expect from prison life, I saw the little hand. Before I knew what was happening, I felt the slap. The little sh!t had smacked me across the mouth! I was stunned. I sat gaping like a fish for a couple of seconds, trying to comprehend what had just happened. I looked at him. He looked back at me. Then he took off running. I regained my senses enough to shout after him, "That right! You better run! And you had better PRAY TO GOD that I never catch you because when I do, I will be on you like white on rice! Do you understand me? Like WHITE ON RICE!"

* The kids aren't all bad all the time. Sometimes they're pretty funny. In addition to routinely mispronouncing (the whole one syllable of) my last name, or calling me Miss White because...I'm white, they say some pretty funny stuff. My recent favorite was when I had some kindergarteners painting. I went over to one kid, looked at his painting, and (realizing that it was a person) said, "That's nice! Who is that a picture of?" He looked up at me and said, "It's you, Miss S! You're Jackie Chan!" Awwwwesome.

The weather's getting warmer, so the kids will be nuts for the next two months. I'm in the process of looking for a job for next year, so if anyone knows of a school that's hiring an art and/or theater teacher (and/or Jackie Chan look-alike), drop me a line! Over and out.

So there you have it - one of the few shining moments I experienced during 2 years of misery, and the genesis for my title. And if you don't like it, take this:

Meg's Handy Guide to Subway Etiquette

Riding the subway sucks. For some reason, the Swiping of the Metrocard removes from many people any semblance of manners and/or common sense. I have decided to compile a list of Gentle Suggestions (aka the Follow These Rules or Suffer the Consequences, Bitches! List) for my fellow MTA riders in the hopes of creating a more tranquil and harmonious commute:

No-no #1: performance conversationalists While I'm sure that, to you and your friend, the intimate details of that awesome kegger/your last date/your annoying boss, job, professor/whatever are fascinating, I really don't give a sh!t about your personal life, and I'm willing to bet that the other 75 strangers on our car don't, either. If you're going to broadcast your conversation for all to hear, please at least have the decency not to be boring. For example:
Bitching about your chemistry assignment = bad!!! Shut up! Now!
Bitching about your chemistry professor hitting on your = better but still boring so shut up.
Bitching about what a freaky shag your chemistry professor is = good! (as long as ample details are provided)

No-no #2: eager beavers This phenomenom boggles my mind. Imagine this scenario: There is a crowded train that pulls into a station (Grand Central is particularly bad for this). The doors open, and there is an instant clash of bodies simultaneously trying to enter and exit the train. The waiting passengers plow forward like a zombified herd - "Must. Get. On. Train." Apparently it doesn't occur to them that, if they wait for passengers to exit the train first (like the nice man on the recording says), they will be spared the experience of literally fighting their way onto the train.



"Is this the 4 train?" "No!! I think it's the fiiiiiiiiivvvve!!!"

No-no #3: pole hoggers Yes, it's in the middle of the car, but that is no reason for you to lean on, drape yourself on, or otherwise hog the pole.



If you do insist on making love to the pole, don't even try to give me a dirty look when i sqeeze my hand in so I don't get tossed around when the conductor tries to take that curve like he's in the damn Indy 500. Share, dammit.

No-no #4: big fanny + small space Again, an offense that defies logic. It's very simple math, which just goes to reinforce how desperately the public school system is failing. If your ass is, say, 50 inches across, and you happen upon an open seat that is, say, 18 inches across, your ass will not fit in that space. 50 > 18 I know you will try to squeeze, force and coerce your oversized behind into that seat because I see it happen every day. Do yourself a favor: Stand. Standing burns more calories anyway, Tubby.

No-no #5: leg spreader Maybe you're on the train so much it feels like home to you. Yeah, it's actually not. It's a freakin' public train, so don't feel so comfortable that you decide to sprawl out like you're chilling on the BarcaLounger in your living room. Try to be aware that you're sharing the space with a bunch of other people, most of whom don't really care that you need to air your crotch out, or whatever it is you're doing.

No-no #6: get off my cloud These people are the worst of the bunch. Maybe they're a little frustrated because wifey isn't putting out like she used to, or maybe they're just twisted pervs who get their jollies by fondling random strangers on the train. Whatever. Doesn't matter. All that matters is that even my boyfriend has the sense not to try to feel me up before I've had my morning coffee, so if you think your little "oops I slipped and grabbed your butt. and then your boob." routine is gonna fly, you can get ready to say hello to my little friend:


You better recognize, bitches!!

Now, if everyone followed these rules, riding the train would be only mildly annoying. I didn't get to the hygene part, or the part about bodily fluids or the part addressing proper attire (aka Everybody's Free (to wear underwear)), but it is a beginning... Stayed tuned for my next installment: How to Ride the Bus (or There's A Freaking Picture Showing You How to Insert Your MetroCard, Dipshit)!