Umbrella

NYC sidewalks only have so much room to maneuver on a sunny day, so when they’re packed with pedestrians wielding umbrellas, sidewalks can become downright treacherous. Listen, if I go high with my umbrella, you go low with yours. You feel me? If we both carry our umbrellas at our walking heights, one of us is going to lose any eye.

I’ve also noticed a lot of folks carry golf umbrellas. When did 3^rd Avenue become the back 9? Again, we only have so much room in this great city of ours and unless you’re shielding a class field trip under there, leave the golf umbrellas on the green.

Finally, crosswalk signs are useful. They prevent you from walking into traffic and me having to hold you back. Then you don't have to ask me “where that damn cab from”, and I don't have to say “from the green light”.

Underwear Spiderman

So we started our own blog again and I found one of my own older posts from years ago, originally posted on my friend's blog 2 years ago.  Keith and I are now married for almost a year.

Enjoy!

I’ll have to get past my notions that I don’t have much to say and embrace that writing, for any reason, is a good idea.

I didn’t know what I’d write about this time yesterday but an incident last night awarded me ridiculous inspiration.

I bring you Underwear Spiderman, a/k/a, a spectacle I enjoy once in a while and an annoyance to my boyfriend Keith all the time.

Ya see, I wear underwear (my clean underwear) on my head, using the leg holes as eye holes. Can you picture this? It could be a feminine Spiderman mask right? Um, right? Well I think it is. I put the bloomers on my head in the bedroom and then run around Keith’s apartment yelling “Underwear Spiderman!” I literally run around with my own underwear on my face, yelling like a lunatic and I LOVE IT. I mean, LOVE IT. I laugh while I do it. But Keith doesn’t. Keith doesn’t laugh at all.

The history behind this display is a little unclear. I’ve never done in front of other boyfriends, so I’d say it’s only about 3 years old which about how long I’ve been dating Keith. I do it at his place only and never at my apartment. It just seems right in his apartment – don’t know why. It makes the dog a little nervous but I attribute that to my flailing and not the bloomers on my head.

Last night Keith was messing with his ITouch and was content downloading music though when he looked up at the Underwear Spiderman exclamation upon my exit from the bedroom – daggers. Daggers from his eyes. He hates Underwear Spiderman. He tells me I look stupid, that I’m scaring the dog, that I’m likely to run into something, but none of it stops me. I run faster and flap my arms more wildly. I am euphoric and he’s annoyed, but I don’t stop.

The boy hates Underwear Spiderman, probably even more than my habit of repeating myself and going over plans until the plans aren’t even worth doing anymore. So the question remains. Why am I still running around with underwear on my head when Keith is probably hoping I run into something so I’ll stop the charade?

Because it’s Underwear Spiderman and she is awesome.