The cat’s funeral is an altogether more sombre affair. I don’t like cats, but felt I had to support Chrissy, a fellow journalist, in her hour of need. “Mr Love” had been one of her feline companions for 14 years (“Slut”, his mother, lives on, and is very unperturbed by her son’s passing), and had been kept alive by his owner’s adoration and acupuncture, which is big pet business here. The decision to have him put down was a tough one.
Category: My America
Law and Order: SVU. I swear that for every one I watch, they have made another six by the time the credits roll. How else would it be possible, every time I turn on my TV, to see yet another SVU marathon and so many episodes that I haven’t seen before?
There is no such thing as a free hot dog. They may tell you that in Rudy’s dive bar, but you will still be paying the price several days on. Trust me. And don’t snog anyone in Rudy’s dive bar. Especially after 3am. And especially if they have consumed a free hot dog. And REALLY trust me on that.
The man who has just entered the carriage of the B train heading Downtown to Brooklyn is standing six inches away from me. He sounds forceful. Not angry. Just forceful. Like he’s auditioning to play Brian Blessed. “And I’ll tell you what happens when you leave prison,” he booms. Now, I am very nervous. Not just because Patrick is speaking very loudly, but because he is wearing a rucksack.
You have no idea how angry a statue can get when trying to separate you from your dollars. “Not you! Selfie! Me! Reverse shot!” I yelled, in that way we have of talking to foreigners (and statues) who can’t speak English.