Thursday, February 12, 2009

A Few Bad Ideas

In my ongoing quest to find interesting things to do and that I can write about here, I am constantly tossing around ideas to my friends, my husband, the clerk at Duane Reade and to myself (yes, out loud). Below are a few of these ideas that at first seemed genius to me, but clearly are just bad.

A Day at the OTB

I can't tell you how many times I've walked past the Off Track Betting facility in my neighborhood, with it's fancy name (something like "The Green Medal Club) and opaque windows and thought to myself, "Wow, I wonder if it's some snooty Republican men's club." Then, because I'm staring at the windows I'll usually bump into whatever homeless man is stumbling out cursing and throwing down his tickets and realize that it's the OTB, not a branch of the Yale Club. So one day, over afternoon cocktails a friend and I decided that my next UnPlain experience should be a day spent at the OTB. Newly unemployed and with no extra dollars to spare I could dress down, stick a cigarette behind my ear and hang out in a 4' by 4' room all day with a bunch of down and out degenerate gamblers. Even as I write this, part of me still thinks it's genius. Fortunately for my health and well-being, my husband T, for the first time in the five years we've been together actually told me that I was not allowed to do it. Of course this only made me want to do it more. Eff him, right? Nobody tells me what I can and can not do!

Except that he's right. The OTB is probably a dangerous place for an attractive young lady to spend a day, but every now and then I push the thought of potentially getting stabbed out of my head and revisit the idea of going for a few seconds before I come to my husband-imposed senses once again.

I'd love to hear from anyone who's actually been!




Little People

Yes, I feel guilty even writing a small blurb about the vertically challenged (and I mean legitimately little, not just short), but people of the smaller persuasion are of particular fascination to me. It's a love-hate thing. Take the Roloff Family from the TV Show Little People, Big World. They haven't done anything to me, I've barely even watched the show, but for some reason I loathe, yes loathe, them. I despise them so much that every time a commercial for the show comes on I have to yell out loud, "It should be called Little People, Big ASSHOLES!" at the TV, even if I'm all by myself. On the other hand find me an Oompa Loompa or one of those little Maury Povich kids and my heart fills up with so much love that I want to strap on a Baby Bjorn and carry a little person around with me all day.




So today as I rode the M15 back downtown from Bed, Bath and Beyond, I saw my favorite kind of little person walking down the street. She was a little person that required a double-take just to make sure she was actually a little person. She didn't have "little person face" and was just a a smidge taller than your average below-average height person. Then, when I looked down towards her feet as she walked along I saw what were unmistakeably a pair of little girls Mary Jane's. I swear, her shoes could've been purchased at The Children's Place. Don't get me wrong, I have a few tiny-footed friends who can wear a chidren's size sneaker, but none have tiny feet so darling as this woman. I was immediately enamored. My mind went to that place where I contemplated either jumping off the bus to "interview" her for my blog (which I'm sure would go over really well) or whipping out my BlackBerry to snap a picture to later post and comment on.

Ultimately, I figured it was a bad idea to do either and it would just make me look bad, but I have a feeling just writing about it accomplished that anyway.

The Crack of Dawn

The other two ideas I had involved waking up at the crack of dawn which obviously isn't going to happen. So my apologies, but no, UnPlain Jane will not be appearing on the Mike & Juliet show this Monday nor will I ever find out what the semi-hot guy who sits at the same table at Morton's every Wednesday morning at 8am does for a living.

Any ideas that don't involve too much effort on my part are greatly appreciated!




2 comments:

Carl said...

Where to begin on OTB. My parents love betting horses. They sit at home on the weekend and do OTB by phone. From age 5 to 12, my father would take me and my brother to Toys R' Us, and then conveniently stop at OTB on the way home for a little while (try an hour or two)to play a few horse races. I know my way around an OTB, I assure you.

In fact, my brother and I went to OTB on one afternoon we both had off a couple months ago, after a glorious and yet sickening lunch at the Chinese Food Buffet. We would bet at which ever track had a post time (MTP- you will need to know this if you go there) 5 minutes or so away. We stayed for 45 minutes, lost about $20 each, and left and moved on with our lives. It was fun, but we felt like slimeballs.

T is right. OTB is no place for young ladies. I'm not saying its not safe. I'm saying I think in like 100 trips there, I have seen 3women there ever. There is no precedent to a young lady going there. And thats counting going the day of the Kentucky Derby, etc. Average age of said ladies- 73 years old. Average age of males is about 75. This is Staten Island though. I'm sure the clientele is classy in Manhattan OTB's.

As radio host Colin Cowherd once said, "You can tell how much of a degenerate someone is with one simple method- The more legs that the animals a person bets on has, the more of a degenerate that person is."

My suggestions- A) Go to OTB and start a phone account. Watch the races on tv (Channel 71) and be a degenerate at home with no one watching. Then invite my father and mother over to watch the race with you, and tell you who the winners (who are really the losers) will be.

B) just learn to play internet poker. you won't have to leave your couch ever. Maybe start a sports betting account online. In April there will be baseball games on during the day. Plus, when March Madness starts, you'll have 16 hours of basketball to be on each day. Presto.

Plan C- You should ignore my advice completely. And probably follow T's.
I am not a role model. Trust me.

Maybe one night or saturday afternoon, you and T, me and my better half, and all invited parties can go to the race track. We'll get drunk and try to get rich hitting some superfectas. Thats what the real degenerates go. hahahahaha

-Crazy Carl Himself

Un-Plain Jane said...

I can not thank you enough for the insight. Since my childhood days where my dad would take us to Breakfast at Belmont (aka: feed the kids bagels so the men can bet), I have always wondered about the inner workings of the OTB.

And count me in for the races, I once won the Trifecta. I was 9.