Friday, June 29, 2007

Who are the people in your neighborhood?

Any real New Yorker knows the perils of getting on a crowded subway at rush hour, but if you're female the experience is particularly repugnant.

Here's a rundown of the crazy characters Poker Chick has bumped into. Holler if any of these sound familiar and please...next time feel free to say hello to the people who "brighten up" your commute.


Oh, who are the people in your neighborhood? In your neighborhood? In your neighborhood? Say, who are the people in your neighborhood? The people you meet on your train.

The yeller: I'm the yeller: I always sounds the same. "Keep moving, people! Move into the train!" With elbows and fists and screams, I'll stomp over those before me.

'Cause a yeller is a
person on your subway train. On your subway train. On your subway train, a yeller is a person on your subway train. A person that you meet each day.

The bagman: As the bagman I needs lots of stuff. Briefcase, backpack or man-purse...it's never enough. But when the doors lock me inside the train, I tug at my poor strap in vain.

Oh the bagman is a person on your subway train. On your subway train. On your subway train, a bagman is a person on your subway train. A person that you meet each day.

The stinker: I'm a stinker coming from the gym. Or I'm foreign or skipped showering on a whim. You suppress the sudden urge to vomit, 'cause your nose is shoved against my 'pit.

The intern: As an intern I'm the most amusing. Looking awkward in a tie, I don't know what I'm doing. Yet I smile to avoid the big map near me. Who cares, 3 months and I am history.

Hard-on man: Now hard-on man's the worst offender. I stand behind you while positioning my little member. I'm hot for you and want to show it, but hope that others haven't noticed. We'll add an extra oink here. Because I am just so disgusting.

Yes....hard-on man's a person on your subway train. On your subway train. On your subway train, hard-on man's a person on your subway train. A person that you meet each day.

Above: Japanese women get their own cars as 64% report being groped on crowded trains.

EVERYBODY SING: These are the people in your neighborhood. In your neighborhood, in your neighborhood. Yes, these are the people in your neighborhood. The people that you greet each day.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

A great big SHOUTOUT to the family in Holy Baden Baden. Miss you.

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Rodrigo, Rodrigo, wherefore art thou, Rodrigo? Well, who art thou? QuiƩn es usted? And what are you trying to say?

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Son, Be a Dentist...


Poker Chick desperately needs advice. Dentists are driving her batty with new, unfamiliar territory. You see, Poker Chick has been lucky thus far. Previous run-ins with dentists have all involved "Say ahh..." and the played "you really need to floss every night". As if. So here's the skinny....

After 2+ years the braces finally come off. $8,000 of torture in the name of vain. Finally, straight teeth! Almost done: just whiten and fix the two front teeth that were never fixed right when broken. Right? Yeah, right.

If Poker Chick looked like this, she'd have no problems

Problem 1:
Apparently the only way to fix the two front teeth is veneers. PC doesn't know much about this but the consult pictures were pretty and said fancy "smile man" on 5th ave. wants $2,500 a pop. Also, he wants to do 4, not two. This is out of the question, though ortho says it will "look silly with just two". Silly, my ass. If you think it's so silly then you cough up $10k for your friend. Yeah, didn't think so.

Problem 2: Whitening needs to be done 1-2 months before veneers. This means now. Makes sense, until you add $850 for it. Did ortho say it would be "thrown in" at the end when PC balked at the initial cost? Yes, he did. Did either party write it down? Nope. So unless PC wants to spend nearly another G, she needs to open her newly straight mouth. The problem? Guilt. She's spent two to three years seeing ortho once a month, and knows he's been through his own personal hell this year. She raises the issue politely and gets $200 off, but can't bring herself to force it any more.

Problem 3: In comes politics with committed dentist she's been seeing for 10+ years. Dentist is personally offended that PC is not doing whitening and/or veneers with her. Whitening, sure, but she can't do it for $650 or less. Other problem: ortho says whitening should be done by veneer person. Why? PC has no clue. So, you ask, why not have regular dentist do veneers? Don't know. PC feels it may be akin to letting the surgical intern give you a spinal tap vs. asking for the attending. One person does 1-2 a month while the other person does 1-2 a day. Who would you want doing your spinal tap? But the money! Dang, there's that money. PC just does not have that kind of money. Also, said dentist is now PO'd and PC needs to go and pick up x-rays from her in person. What does one say? "Sorry, I'm with you for the small stuff, but going to the big guns for the cosmetics?" Or is PC being silly. After all, just because one dentist screwed up 20 years ago, doesn't mean they all will, right? Should regular dentist just do it all? Perhaps an elephant with his eyes closed could pop a veneer on. Who the hell knows.
Problem 4: Ortho wants to do MORE braces. Yes, you heard right. Invisalign done. Just one more year of wearing a full-time retainer (bleh). However, he thinks he can get them "a lot better" with a few months of true metal mouth. A lot better? Where else can they go?

Pluses of metal mouth:
  • It's included in the original $8k
  • After 2+ years, do you really want to stop at 90% because you got lazy?
  • PC gets that "perfect" bite
Minuses:
  • Duh, metal mouth. Scraped up gums. Months of social isolation due to awkward teenage adult face. Argh.
  • Icky teeth when they come off. Double argh.
  • Does PC even want a "perfect" bite? After a lifetime of overbite, wouldn't she not be herself without one? Do we see Madonna rushing to "fix" her teeth? At some point, when does your face stop becoming your own? After all, nothing else about her is perfect. Why make her teeth perfect? Isn't a total body of slight imperfections perfect enough?
Poker chick has 2 weeks or less to make a decision. If more braces the damn teeth won't be fixed for another year or more. If no braces, then where to whiten? What do we do about the front teeth? Can they be fixed for less than $5k? How do we salvage the original dentist relationship?

Oy vey. This is all enough to make Poker Chick's head spin. If the $13k+ spent on her mouth won't kill her, the stress alone will.

We leave you with a recently obtained quote from PC parent's dentist, circa 20 years ago. "I did the best I could. It's not perfect, but it should hold for about 15 years or so. At that point, she'll be married and her husband can pay for the rest of the work she'll need". Gee, thanks for the legacy, parents.

Kidding aside, opinions and advice needed. Someone needs to make the "Little Shop of Horrors" nightmares stop coming every night.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

You know you're working too late when....

1) Your staff starts calling you "Home Slice"
2) The pizza doesn't get ordered until 10:30PM
3) You insert nonsensical phrases in your presentation just to keep everyone awake such as: "Ads are female-targeted. Short hairstyles and mom jeans ensure relevance to the modern woman’s life"
4) Your whole team is excited when page 3 is finally done. Page 3 is the Agenda.
5) 30 minutes are spent on IM figuring out a better title.
6) You've forgotten the difference between media spending and sales
7) You think "patent" refers to a type of shoe leather
8) Discussions get heated about how casinos keep people awake and where you can get extra oxygen. Now!
9) You have to tell a colleague's sister to stop calling so you can do more work
10) You keep saying "tomorrow" when technically it's "today"

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Words the mini can say in Hebrew

We'll add to the list as it keeps growing...which hopefully it will, despite Poker Chick's piss-poor teaching skills.

Numbers 1 -18
Butterfly
Beautiful butterfly
Caterpillar
Cake
Chocolate Cake
Watermelon
Sour Pickle
Good night
Good morning
Hello
Again
Dog
Egg
Sun
Leaf
Bear
Teddy Bear
Elephant
Bless you
Milk
Monkey
Oranges
Strawberries
Yellow Cheese
Cloud
Big
Small
Sneeze
Bellybutton
Where is.....
That's right
Mommy
Daddy
Head
Body
Eyes
Hands
Back
Tummy

The entire first verse of the pijama song, though she probably doesn't understand it (Haboker yom aleph...)

Sunday, June 10, 2007

News, News and more News

What's happenin'
Some of you are familiar with Poker Chick's life-long obsession with determining whether gender roles come from nature or nurture. Recently, she gave the mini a Thomas the train. The mini squealed with joy, and proceeded to serve him tea. Interesting...

Tuesday, June 5, 2007

What to watch when the writers strike


Here's a list of movies Poker Chick has watched recently. Please to contact her for reviews if interested.



  1. Avenue Q - OK, not a movie but she saw it for the second time because it's so friggin' hilarious.
  2. Waitress
  3. Superbad - took waaaay too long to finally see that.
  4. Last King of Scotland
  5. Juno
  6. Yuma 3:10
  7. Into the Wild
  8. The Holiday
  9. Winnie the Pooh (the original!)
  10. Night at the Museum
  11. There Will Be Blood
  12. Because I Said So
  13. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
  14. The Queen (it was yukkers)
  15. The Jungle Book
  16. The Darjeeling Limited.  Awesome.
*Poker Chick assumes no responsibility for readers' tastes. If you actually follow one of her recommendations and do not enjoy it, well - it's your own fault, pip.

Sunday, June 3, 2007

Who's Reading Your Blog?

I'm a snooper by nature and I love statistics. Therefore, it's not surprising that I love analyzing my readers. I read the info voraciously and try to unlock the mysteries within. Unfortunately, I am not a trained detective so this blog is the only way to answer some questions. Here are two I've been struggling with for a while. Come on people, time to confess!
  1. Who's my mystery reader from Sweden? Inga, is that you?
  2. Who's searching for the words "strip club" on my blog? Dude, I think you have me confused with the "Poke-her Chick".
Do you know who's reading your blog?

Friday, June 1, 2007

How do I suck? Let me count the ways...(updated)

July 1st - Update
Believe it or not, I finally pulled it off. Two presents, wrapped. Cards, included and signed. Recipe card, filled out and snuck into the back of the book when no one was looking, as if it had been there all along. Even more amazing, wrapping jobs were not half-bad. Proof below.



1pm on Friday. I don't have the fever I had last night, but I'm still sick. I'd failed miserably in trying to take part of yesterday off work to rest; in fact it was just the opposite as I had to work at home late at night. The husband is away in Vegas and I have a bridal shower ahead of me tomorrow. And another on Sunday. Do I have gifts? No, of course not. But let's not forget who's talking, this is Poker Chick, superhero of the future. She can do it all.

It was all planned out. Leave work early. Go to the two stores I needed to get the gift I had already thought up. Go buy a couple of cards. Go to the bank for nanny dough. Go home, wrap the gifts, write in the cards, and add whatever recipe/poem/saying the invite instructed me to. Finish it all by 7pm. Bask in the glow and relaxation of having done it all.

It's 6pm. Still at work. Panic begins to settle in.

6:15. Finally out the door and I begin to relax. Feelings of confidence rush in. I can do this! A short walk to 61st and 3rd! Grab two panties and go (yes, I said "panties". Get over it). Pop over to 59th and Lex. Grab two more gifts and go. Hop on the subway at 59th and Lex right there. 2 stops, pop by bank on the way home, boom! - still home by 7! Go, Poker Chick, go! I wonder how I got this brilliant as I begin my journey.

6:30. About to pay for gifts and realize I need cards, which are right there. Bam! Confidence is in full force. This is working, baby!

6:40. Confidence wanes. I'd made it to 59th and Lex but now I'm realizing that I hadn't factored in "carry time": the weight of my bag plus laptop after 15 blocks of walking. Ow, my shoulder, ow. Thank goodness this is my last stop.

6:45. The first uh-oh. The nice cookie jar on-line (which was back-ordered, hence having to get it in person) is only available on-line. My plan is unraveled in an instant. What do I do? Ok, ok, time to calm down. They do have a cookie jar. It's not as nice as the one I wanted, but hey, it works. And both brides are registered here so I can get two gift receipts if they want to exchange it for something on their registry I couldn't afford. Sweet! I'm good to go. And it's the thought that counts anyway, right?

6:50. Do I want gift-wrap? Sure. Those of you who know Poker Chick well know her well-developed talent for horrible gift-wrap jobs. What can I do? It falls into the category of "arts & crafts"; i.e., female things I suck at. But I digress. Where were we? Oh yeah, gift wrap. Do I have 15 minutes to wait for it, they ask? Hell, no. Not even 5. I ask for boxes and gift receipts, give my credit card, and ask them to hurry. Please, hurry.

6:55pm. Fuck. I'm supposed to be home in 5 minutes. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I call home and negotiate with the nanny. She had to leave to pick something up at 54th street. But wait, I'm at 59th! I offer to pick it up for her in exchange for coming home late, and a deal is struck. Once again, I marvel at my brilliance for thinking under pressure.

6:56. Everything unravels. Panic returns. The saleslady is trying to hurry, but since she rang me up on one bill, she can only print one gift receipt. She has to void the transaction and do two separate charges. Meanwhile, the other saleslady is trying to help me get out of there quickly and is searching for boxes I can use to wrap the gifts in later at least. She brings two giant shopping bags for me, I get the receipts, put one in each bag, grab one bag in each hand, and begin the mad dash for 54th street.

7:05. Panic is now joined by despair and frustration. I immediately realize that not only does my shoulder hurt from my bag and computer, but I'm now carrying one giant heavy bag in each hand as well. I make it to 54th street, but need to stop and put the bags down every two blocks and rest. I'm sweating and my shoulder feels like it's about to fall off. I can't imagine how ridiculous this must look to people watching me. How did I think I could pull this off?

7:20. Grabbed the envelope, and now I can go home. But wait, I can barely walk, so I can't take the subway and walk home. No, I need a a cab. Fuck. I just realize I spent my last few dollars on lunch. I walk two more blocks to a bank. Somehow, I open the door to get in.

7:25. I made it! I'm almost home! Now I just need to get a cab. But I'm on 53rd and Park at 7:30 on a Friday. Fat chance of a cab here. I give it a few minutes and walk down to Lex. Nope, no cabs here either, and there's 3 other people waiting. True, they aren't carrying around 150 pounds of stuff but still, they were there first. I walk to 53rd and 3rd, where I stand a better chance of hailing a cab. I put the heavy bags down and look. Finally! I see a cab two blocks away! The lit up "4C27" is like a big shining beacon of light in my hour of need. I put my hand out. He signals he's coming to me with a head-nod (I have great eyesight). He heads over, and gets stuck at a red light. I can't move to him because of all my "baggage", but I'm trying. Some blonde bimbo jumps in right then and takes it. This is my breaking point. Crap. Here come the waterworks.

9:15. I'd made it home. Gave the nanny her envelope, paid her, put the mini to bed. Got out the cards to write in and got out the invites to see what poem or recipe or some other estrogen-filled "goodies" I needed to write and submit. I see the recipe one is tomorrow. Perfect. I have an awesome chocolate-cookie recipe. Fuck. What's this self-addressed, stamped envelope doing with the recipe card? Didn't I already RSVP? Yes, I did. So, what is this? Oh no! What I failed to do is realize the recipe needed to be sent in before the shower so it could be included in a giant gift that would be presented at the shower. I have no choice but to discreetly pass it to someone the day of, hope that no one notices, realize they will anyway, and endure the "oh, you're one of those" looks I almost always get at these things.

Double crap. This vent has cost me more. It's 10:30 and my dinner's gone cold. It's too late to eat now. I still haven't filled in the card. Now I'll be even later than planned tomorrow.

A traditional bridal shower "ribbon hat"

The worst part, you see, is that no one's going to see how good my intentions were. They'll just see a harried guest showing up late (babysitter), carrying a second-rate, cheap, last-minute gift with no recipe card.

Wow, do I suck. If there were an award for suckiest bridal shower guest, I would win it. I hope they have drinks at this thing. It's my last hope.