I'm one angry boob

 

(Ditmas Park in the Fall, years past- B.H.A. Before Hipster Arrival)

Completely off the art topic today. I'm bored with it and crankier than ever as of late. Perhaps it's the 6-inch long needle to the boobaroo I got yesterday and then the repeated SMASHING of it again and again in the mammogram machine right after being sliced open that made me revel in the joys of my womanhood once again. Hurrah for Breast Cancer Awareness month!! Whoopee-dee-freakin'-doo. To make it 100% relevant, my body decided to go and have a breast cancer scare. In honor of my newfound coinkydink, I've decided next year's Talk Like a Pirate Day will have me actually BECOMING a pirate, and for Take Your Daughter to Work Day I'm going to have a daughter. Beat that, Jolie.

In my other crank-ass topic of the day-- I'm never one much to talk about where I live. Where I work is another story-- at least the neighborhood where I work and the galleries that surround me. I like to think that where I live is more or less where I finally go to sleep at night, because that's about all I ever do here. But lately, I'm more annoyed than ever. One of the best things about Ditmas Park for the past 5 years has been the unique quality of diversity to this neighborhood. All types of people lived here of all racial and ethnic backgrounds. The other great quality was the fact it takes a freakin' hour to get anywhere I need to work in Manhattan. And for that hour, I used to be able to sit my ass for most of the ride and read my paper.

Well, my antisocial ass has unfortunately found that oh, no-- everyone and their f'ing brother has decided to move here. YAY. And they're all white and they all wear skinny jeans with flannel shirts. Just what I always wanted!! Oh, and my dear Q train-- you know, the one that takes me where I need to go-- well, they decided to go glam. Yep, they gave us Q trains that are really L trains-- and now we've lost a good 10 seats per car. Yay. Swap cleanliness for extra feet and lower back pain from standing an HOUR on the way home. Gotta love it. F'ers.

The one good thing of the Gentrification 101 has been the addition of the Tibetan restaurant over the subway tracks. Yeah, you heard that right. Every time the train comes by the lights flicker on and off while you're eating. I f'ing love it. It rocks. They serve Tingmo. The Tingmo is boobalicious. I mean, delicious. Its fat, plump and you can mold it just like a mammogram technician molds your boob. But the best part is, you can eat it. My favorite part is so far there's mainly Tibetans in this restaurant, because most of the skinny jean, beard-grower, deodorant challenged keep eating at the outside tables. But alas, my days of easy quiet eating is numbered as the temperature drops. My solitude shall soon be greeted with tables of them socializing with their BYOB. Can't wait.