Wednesday, September 17, 2008

"The Cult of the Cupcake"

I visited my cousin Emily in the Big Apple last weekend, & she insisted (as though I needed it) upon taking me to the legendary Magnolia Bakery in the West Village. I indulged in a lovely vanilla cupcake with green icing & a pink sugar flower while we sat in the little park across the street. A jubilant-looking 40-something with concave cleavage approached to inform us of an impending performance in said park: "Unison Fetish," featuring the Cupcake Cadet Corps, which celebrated "the Cult of the Cupcake," whatever that may be.

A few minutes later, five girls & one guy pranced down Bleeker in shiny, sequined pink dresses & black dance shoes, singing about the joy of Magnolia & other various sorts of cupcake worship while double-fisting two of the bakery's own dessert delights. The cadets danced for about three songs, at one point smashing their cupcakes in their faces -- one girl got icing stuck up her nose but was so committed to her, um, art that she didn't even break unison formation to wipe it away.
Now that's dedication.



Got milk?

Bow-tied Men Say Things Like This On the Metro:

"That is the curse of the human male -- to compete and to validate both with the father. It is a constant struggle; it is neither good nor bad."

A Tale of Two Cities

Cab in NYC, 3:45 p.m. on Tuesday
My cabbie, a burly native New Yorker, screamed out the window to a woman smoking a cigarette, "I break that curse in Jesus' name! YOU DON'T WANT CANCER!" While I agree with the sentiment, it was a bizarre & borderline terrifying experience, exacerbated by aforementioned driver's inability to, well,
drive. He jolted, he jetted, he darted in & out of others cars, bikes & pedestrians, angering even the most seasoned of New Yorkers. At one point he also yelled to a street vendor wheeling his hot dog cart down the street, "AYYY, I'll take two franks with sauerkraut! AYYY!"

It was the first time in my life that I ever thought, "If I don't remove myself from this situation, I'm going to die." Carsick & scared, I asked to be let out long before we arrived at Penn Station. I paid him & promptly barfed in a Big Apple trashcan before hailing a new (calmer) cab to take me the rest of the way.


Cab in D.C., 8:15 p.m. on Wednesday
Still reeling from the allergies I acquired up in the oh-so-dirty City That Never Sleeps, I caught a cab home from my local CVS after picking up an inhaler.
Cough, cough. My cabbie noted that I sounded a little ill & upon my affirmative response, launched into a litany of get-well-quick tips that he swore would help me conquer my bronchial demons. Hot tea with lemon & honey, of course (drunk both night & day), & lots of sleep & some zinc cough drops, no matter how bad the taste -- but he also offered up a few more off-the-wall suggestions, like taking a very hot shower in the evening & then getting right into bed to capture all my bodily heat... or something to that effect.

When I got out of the cab, he seemed very concerned for my well-being. "Please take care of yourself!" he urged. "Take very good care of yourself!"
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