I was once a guest on Romper Room!!! Not a regular guest, just a visitor. I still managed to get myself yelled at for talking too much though..go figure…

Yesterday was a Binge and Purge day, and no I’m not bulemic, because I hate throwing up. Yesterday was just a wacky day, and while I didn’t literally throw up anywhere, I did have had a throw up burp last night, which would usually be shnasty, but since I eat so much sugar, it tasted quite yummy.

Less Gross things ahead. I promise. Well, I eliminated “the problem” I had with one of my friends, and, although we will most probably never be friends again, I hate to say it..uhm, oh, I already know I’m going to hell, but most of the people that like me will probably be joining me there…oh, okay…I am so relieved!!! She was soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo self-absorbed, I don’t think I even did enough o’s to do her justice. She freaked out on me about not attending her wedding, when we’ve spoken less than 10 times in the last 10 years. I think she even considered me a close friend. A “contact each other” once a year friend is NOT a close friend.

She called me as I was doing one of my bi-weekly drives back from PA to NYC. And I was so angry after the call, even though it’s not nice to be angry at people with mental illness, but I was, that I was pleasantly surprised when things started getting better. This van full of guys pulled up next to me on the New Jersey Turnpike and kept signaling for me to roll down my window. They kept asking for my number. While the driver, and the main begger of said number was wearing a wedding band, I was still flattered. And no, I didn’t roll down my window or give them my number. They had NJ plates, and I don’t have time for any relationship, let along a long distance one. Okay, I wouldn’t have given random men driving down the pike my number anyway.

Anyway. I did something I’ve never done before. It has nothing to do with the boys on the highway, it’s just that they put me in a better mood.

I was walking down 9th St. between 3rd and 4th Ave. (which yes, does exist for a short period of time below 14th st.) when a girl pushing a baby carriage stopped and asked me for 50 cent. Not 50 cent the rapper, although I love the song that they keep playing on the radio, the one where he asks his girl if she would still love him if he worked at Burger King. I said no, that I wouldn’t still love him, oh, I mean I said no, I wouldn’t give her 50 cents, and walked away. I used to give lots of money, and then I realized people used it mainly for drugs and alcohol and I got disillusioned. The last time I helped a woman she was pregnant and begging, and I went to buy her a slice of pizza, which I even got warmed up, and she just stuck it under her pit and kept begging…eat the damn pizza pregnant lady..that’s all I could think…ever since then, well, I just stopped helping.

Until last night. This woman, actually more like a little girl, kept walking, and pushing that stroller, and I turned around and started to watch. She only asked women for money, no men, and she looked really desperate. So I ran back to her, and screamed “Wait. Stop. What do you need 50 cents for?”
“To get on the subway” she said.
I looked in the carriage and there was a plump, adorable baby boy, and he was sleeping.
“How old is he?” I asked.
“Six months,” she replied.
“What’s his name?”
“Jonathan”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“Are you taking good care of your baby?”
“No. I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I can’t get a job. I live in a shelter in the Bronx and I have no one to take care of him so that I can even look for a job.”
And she had tears in her eyes.

And that’s when it happened. I gave her my card. My phone number, the same one the boys on the highway had wanted and didn’t get, and I gave her my email address. She said she didn’t have a number. I don’ t know if she was telling the truth or not, but she looked like she could use a friend. I told her that maybe I could find someone to help her get a job. I don’t even know if she’ll call. I asked her to rip up my card if she doesn’t. Then I gave her one dollar for the subway. She was grateful, but I wish I could have done more. Because everyone deserves a chance, no matter what*.

*After a chance, it’s okay to get rid of them, especially if they are psycho with mental illness.