I Heart Cabs

The one exception to my general quest for cheapness is my love for cabs. Taking a cab can be like an angel coming down from heaven and saving you from the jaws of a crocodile before you're about to go into the death spin.

Imagine this scenario... You're cold and alone, you're going to have to take multiple trains. The trains are going to be delayed. The conductor will pass you up and give you the finger for fun. Maybe you are waiting for a train that only runs on Wednesdays between 4:30-7 when the moon is full, but you didn't know. If you ever get on the train, you're probably on the wrong train, or going the wrong way, or the train schedule has changed. Odds are a homeless man will masturbate in front of you. Then you have to walk in the snow. By the time you get to your destination, the party is over and you are ready to end the whole mess before you'd go back into the labyrinth of public transportation. You'll probably wake up in an abandoned hotdog stand in Coney Island with a used condom in your pocket, a needle in your hand, and a handful of baby carrots scattered on your bare chest.

Or...you can just take a cab. If $10 can prevent this kind of pscyhological derangement and emotional scarring, I say that's a value buy.

Red Velvet is Basically Chocolate Cake (?)

My good friend Sara recently suggested buying a $70.00 red velvet cake for a friend's karaoke birthday party. To save money, I offered to make it myself. The only problem is that red velvet cake does not come in a box.

After walking all around Greenpoint in a torrential downpour, I entered what my roommate promised was the biggest grocery store in town. It was clearly the largest selection of cake mixes I would be able to find, but alas, no red velvet.

Remembering that red velvet is a form of chocolate cake, I bought a box of devil's food chocolate mix, and a bottle of red sprinkles. I mixed the red sprinkles into the chocolate batter and cooked it up. At present, the cake has a reddish brown hue but does not look or taste at all like red velvet cake. I am hoping this is sufficient to fool a dimly lit room full of drunk people.

Laundromat Fights

Apparently the laundromat is a good place to go if you're looking for a fight. I visited my new neighborhood laundromat for the first time this weekend. While it is not as "classy" as some of the brightly lit, rodent-free laundrettes up the block, it's right around the corner from my apartment.

There are obvious problems with the place:

1. Arcade game where change machine should be (seems like it would be cool, but actually even more inconvenient as you can't even get quarters to play the arcade game.)
2. Danger of your clothes smelling like burnt toast if you pick the wrong dryer.
3. G.I. Jane starring Demi Moore playing on the TV, but set to the soundtrack of Mariachi music.

These things are all acceptable, or at least must be accepted upon entering the laundromat. Fine. But the unforseen problem is that this laundromat is frequented by territorial old Indian ladies ready for a scuffle.

True of False: It is OK to "save seats" by filling your ridiculous amount of laundry into 50% of the washers in the place and then coming back to start it later?

This was exactly the disagreement at the heart of the confrontation that ensued when I tried to remove the abandoned clothes from a stagnant washer commandeered by this laundry lady. I'm small enough that I usually would think twice before provoking a fight, but my opponent had to stand on a stool to place detergent in Slots 1 and 2. She has craziness on her side, but I have youth and quickness. Point being, we will meet again, and next time, I will be ready for her.