Since We're On the Subject...

My daily routine consists of reading several websites, one of which is Britain's trash tabloid Daily Mail. Celebrity gossip being one of my guilty pleasures, that trash paper is the place to go. Occasionally, however, they have interesting, normally grotesque pieces that attract my attention. I first read about the Josef Fritzl case on the Daily Mail when it broke.

So today I'm browsing over my cup of Flavia garbage and I see this.

Ugh. Are you serious?

Like I said before, I'm the farthest thing from maternal. Maybe this instinct is buried inside me somewhere, under all the sentiments that find the thought of children revolting and actual children not cute at all. I'm too selfish for children. At least I think so.

But if I wanted to have children in the future, I wouldn't wait until after I was 35. Nor would I lie about my age to get obscenely expensive IVF treatments. Women have a biological clock for a reason and it ticks louder as we get older for a reason. And then it stops ticking at a certain point in our lives, at a certain age for a reason. You didn't have kids when you had the chance and now you want them? Too bad. Game over.

There are lots of amazing things science has done not only in the realm of women's health and children - stem cells, antiretrovirals, etc. But where does it stop? When is enough really enough? These two infants are growing up orphaned because their mother was a selfish cunt and if I didn't feel bad for the twins, I'd say good riddance that she's dead. Becoming a mother used to be a selfless act, where a woman loved her children more than herself and it wasn't about her.

Children aren't pets where if you check out early it's not that big of a deal. This bitch died less than 3 years after she had twin boys at 67. Now one of her relatives is in charge of these boys. This is so saddening and infuriating at the same time. That women deserved her rapid demise, just not with two infant boys who have no one left to call mom. Good going, modern science. Next time, try having, you know, limits.

MTV Needs To Go. Immediately.

As I was aimlessly flipping through channels in my bored post-operative stupor, I landed on MTV. I haven't watched in MTV a minute and didn't really miss its vapid programming, but when I saw "16 and Pregnant," I felt like I had to stick around for this trainwreck.

First of all, why is being sixteen and pregnant something to exploit? Which executive has his head so far up his ass (or her head and ass) that they were like, "I've got it! We don't play music anymore, because, just why, but a show called "16 and Pregnant" is our ticket to a new demographic." And which demographic is this? Sluts, whores, and American trash?

Secondly, so, I'm watching this, in such disbelief that I need to ask someone else if she had seen this show before. The first and last and only episode I saw revolved around some idiotic highschool cheerleader with the intellectual capacity to rival a billygoat who had sex with her "possessive, jealous" ex-boyfriend and OOPS, is pregnant.

So these MUSIC Television cameras follow her around as she houses this parasite inside her and in true fairytale form, her parents are okay with her being pregnant and give her the decision as to what to do with it. Given that she's 4 months pregnant when her parents find out, abortion is out of the question and they offer the idea of adoption. StupidBitch mulls it over and decides she wants to keep her baby girl. She tells her OBGYN she doesn't want to breastfeed because boobs will become saggy. I shit you not.

When did being pregnant at sixteen become okay? If I got pregnant now, much less at sixteen, that shit would not fly at my house, let me tell you. Besides being beaten, disowned, disembowled, humiliated, killed, strangled, starved, and burned, that baby would at the very least be aborted.

But before aborting anything, HOW how HOW does anyone manage to get pregnant in this day and age? I mean, really. Condoms; male and female, birth control, Plan B... I thought sex was idiotproof. Apparently not. I was horrendously mistaken.

Why is this something to be proud of? The kid who knocked you up can probably be tried for stautory rape, whether it was consensual or not.. and if you're lucky you're in high school. And now. Your life is over. But it's okay. MTV is going to legitimize teen pregnancy for you.

Good going, MTV. You were a pathetic excuse for a network to begin with but now I know if however many years into the future my daughter gets pregnant, it's because MTV made it cool.

Fast Forward Slow Motion

It's interesting the kinds of little encounters that take place in a big city, like New York, that make you realize how slow and fast paced it can simultaneously be.

I take a whole host of trains throughout the day. After a while I don't even notice the faces of the people who pass by me. They sort of blur together to create a mosaic of the city. But every now and then, there's a piece that sticks out.

If I recall correctly, and I may not, a few weeks ago I was waiting for a Main Street-bound 7 to get to my office. Both tracks were empty leaving from Times Square, which is odd, considering it's the first and last stop. As the horde of rushed commuters less than patiently waited for the next train, I was wandering around and this guy caught my eye. It was super early in the morning, before 8:30, and one of those sticky days where if you wait for a train too long, your face is going to melt onto the platform.

He looked just has harried as the rest of them. Pretentiously dressed, of course. Wearing brown shoes, albeit with a brown belt, but yech. Brown. Shudder. He was very exotic looking; dark and I daresay brooding. Meanwhile, I'm standing there in a skirt I could wear on Shabbas, hoping he won't notice me to so I can indulge my eyes from afar. I don't think he did, and even if he did, he didn't seem taken aback. I don't blame him. I know I'm nothing out of the ordinary. However, the plot thickens.

Monday, I was headed downtown after work. I could've taken more than one route to get where I was going, but it just so happened that I ended up in Grand Central. I was waiting for the 6 and I turned my head and lo and behold, I see PrententiouslyDressedExoticLookingMan. No brown accessories for him. His face didn't register right away. Apparently, neither did mine, since he did the most obvious double take I have ever seen anyone do. Not even in regards to me, but in general. It was. Way. Obvious.

And then he kept looking at me! I was like, "Psh, wuheva, I gots places to be, even though you're definitely several years older but still hot." Then, of course, as fate would have it, we ended up standing rightnextoeachother. He was by the door and I was holding onto that pole thing. I could feel his eyes just burning into me. When I had to move my eyes out of necessity from one spot to another and if they happened to cross his face, his eyes were on me. They were just glued. If our eyes met, I would smile and then he would smile.

I started to fiddle with my necklace, one that Harry and Joy picked out for me. It was perfect for those nervous I-don't-know-what-to-do-with-myself-fiddles. As the train lurched into the station we came close to each other. "That's a beautiful necklace," he said in his unplaceable deliciously foreign accent. I thanked him. Part of me hoped he would say something else. Anything. Give me a grunt or something.

It was the longest ride ever. Not in a bad way or a good way. It was just endless with all the tension swirling about. Are these the kinds of encounters that drive people to post on Craigslist's Missed Connections? Everything on that train was super slow motion. It seemed like everyone was taking really deep breaths, and making these fluid-like languorous movements. The cacophony that is New York and that is the 6 train was silenced, but as soon as I stepped one foot onto the ground at my stop, everything flooded back into my ears all at once. I was nearly overwhelmed by the speed of everything.

No, he said nothing more to me and as the train stopped at my station and I was about to leave, I gave him one last look and smiled. I said goodbye and somehow knew for certain that would be the last time I ever saw him.