Thursday, July 29, 2010
This Wheel's on Fire
Back when I was young, and cared about my appearance, Barry and I used to work out at a gym in Westwood, NJ that was frequented by a bunch of juice-head meatballs in stupidpants (Snookie, if you're reading this, it's the Westwood Raquet Club, I'm sure there are still plenty of jacked up goons there that are looking to woo an Italian princess like yourself). Anyway, back in my salad days, I wasn't so good with the whole deoderant thing and Barry used to frequently ask me if I left the meter on - that is, he thought I smelled like a cab driver. Well, as it turns out, what he was smelling wasn't my armpits, he was smelling my dreams... Yes, that's right, I'm thinking about getting a hack license and becoming a NYC cab driver.
You see, my salad days are over and now I'm primarily interested in the sort of food that has either been deep-fried, or involves copious amounts of Rolaids (AKA: jewish mints) to digest. So I was recently trolling through the various food blogs that I regularly read and came across a blog written by a woman that regularly jumps into cabs and instructs the drivers to take her to their favorite cheap food places. It dawned on me that this is a genius idea because cab drivers, as an ethnically diverse group, would probably know all sorts of cool, out-of-the-way spots that serve weird stinky food (I say stinky because have you ever smelled a cab driver? - see Barry's comment if you haven't). Then, after I thought about it a bit more, it occurred to me that being a cab driver would be awesome in its own right. So, assuming I actually go through with this stupidity, if in the future you climb into a cab and it's being driven by a white guy, it'll be be, maybe I'll take you to Katz's deli.
(by the way, the pic at the top is clearly taken from the spot across Houston Street near Katz's where cab drivers regularly park to take time off - also, if you've never smelled a cab driver, imagine what that guy smells like. Also, also, he's got fingers like sausage links (not breakfast sausages, I'm talking feast of San Gennaro sausage sandwich links))
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