The Day I Cackled Into The Shiny Dome Of A Stranger’s Bald Head

I was encouraged by a good friend to share this experience with the world, about a year ago.

Before I get into it, I feel the need to preface this little memory with an explanation.

As many of you know, Facebook has this wonderful feature for people like me, who can’t let go of the past. It’s called “On This Day”. It shows posts from exactly one year, two years, red years and blue years ago of everything that happened on that exact day. I do enjoy this feature because it shows examples of how I ‘ve both grown and not-grown since the annual days of yawn, I mean yore! Yore! Totally meant yore.

For example, I’m just as snarky now as I was back in ’14. Only now, I’m more experienced at snark. I’ve smoothed some of the edges of my inner snark-statue. No chisels were used in the making of this snark temple.

I’m also just as inept at hiding my feelings when reading books in public now as I was, say, a year ago.

Sit tight, kiddo! Strap yourself into your high-chair on the roller coaster of Memory Lane!

Here goes:

“So I’m on the F Train heading home, and at the tail end of Jenny Lawson’s‘Let’s Pretend This Never Happened’, and laughing so hard that by the time we stop at Delancey, I literally cackled into the shiny dome of a stranger’s bald head. The woman standing across from me, Shay (we were standing by the doors), starts laughing herself because not only did Under-The-Dome jump, but about 2 or 3 people behind him who were also trying to get off got a little start at my walrus-like bark-cackle. Doors close, 4 petrified-wood people lighter than we were before, and the woman is gripping the door with one hand and a knee with the other, squealing ‘ohmygod!’.

She now has a couple leads of what books to read next, and I have a free ‘Sanders: Because fuck this shit’ pin.

Reading: Bringing people together.”

I haven’t done much writing lately. My current gig, which ends this Friday — THANK YOU, CHEESES! — has had me so exhausted by the end of the day, my brain has held no original thoughts by the time I get home at night in the span of the last 3 months. I haven’t even been able to get much reading in, shy of my sitting in the loo. And you can only get away with doing that for so long before you get those oval-like dents in your arse.

Yeeeeaaaahhh, you know what I mean. Yeah you. I see you, ya little sneak!. Waddling out like you’re pretending you didn’t finish a chapter in there.

You’re fooling nobody.


How To Have Fun With Customer Service Reps

It’s nearly midnight, and my guilt over not writing a post in the last couple of weeks is riding me…hard.  I can’t sleep until I post something.

Going through my Facebook feature of “On This Day”, a story pops up from a year ago about a chat I had with a Warby Parker Customer Service Representative by the name of Aly.

Before sharing the conversation I had, let me give a little back story on why this happened.

It’s two-fold, really.

First of all, I’ve been a customer service representative.  More often than not, I hated it.  Especially the call centre type of work.  You talk to random strangers for approximately 7 hours out of your day.  More than likely, it’s a multitude of calls telling you how much you suck, how much the company you work for sucks, how life sucks, and by the way, they want a credit/discount/validation of how right they are.

It’s not for everyone.  Unless you have the patience of a saint, that revolving door of employees is going to keep spinning like a vinyl on hi-speed.

Secondly, I’m a loyal customer to Warby Parker.  I believe in this company with all of my heart.  There’s a small number of companies I can truly say that about.  The full amount could probably fit into a Drumpf-sized hand.  They’re socially conscious, they give back to the community in that when a pair of their glasses is bought, they donate another pair to a kid in need.  So when I buy frames from them, EVERYBODY WINS!

I have three pairs from them:

My Upton Sea Smokes.


My Ainsworths


And most recently, my Wilders:


These gems start at $95, and they’re just as sharp, if not moreso, in my opinion, than any Calvin Klein, Donna Karan, or Dulce de Leche and Gobblin’ Ya.

Which is why the following conversation happened.

My online chat with Warby Parker rep, Ally, at the beginning of February 2016:

Ally Mon, 02/01/16 04:51:21 pm America/New_York

Hi Carrie! How can I help?

Carrie 04:52:06 pm

If I run through the store, calling out “I want them all, Daddy!” like Veruca Salt…will they call security right away?

Ally 04:53:02 pm

lol!! No, but we maintain the right to turn you into a blueberry 😉

Carrie 04:53:44 pm

lol, sweetheart, that won’t be hard. I’m wearing mostly blue and lusting over the blue Haskell frames – bring it on
My real question (yes, I did have a real one), is does WP ever do BOGO sales?

Ally 04:55:07 pm

We don’t, I’m sorry about that. We try to keep our prices low in general, so we never really offer promotions.

Carrie 04:55:34 pm

What if you made me your mascot?

Ally 04:56:01 pm

We already have one!


Carrie 04:56:25 pm

dammit, work with me here
I’m sending back the 5 try-ons tomorrow
And I’m having a hard time choosing between the Eatons, the Wilders and the Haskells

Ally 04:57:38 pm

There’s a $10 discount in your account – feel to reference this if you come into the store or call in once you place the order online, and we can apply it 🙂

Carrie 04:58:10 pm

ooooooooooohhhhh, now I’m getting really into it.
the cobalt blue Burroughs are also high on my list

Ally 04:58:32 pm

The Eaton Wilder and Haskells are all a bit different – whats the look you’re going for?

Carrie 04:59:14 pm

the I’m-Smarter-Than-You look, but apparently I need better hair for that too.
When is WP coming out with Ziggy Stardust frames?
And how did I end up with a $10 discount, if you don’t mind my asking?

Ally 05:00:55 pm

I like to think the Percey in Maraschino are very Ziggy Stardust!
Because this is the most fun chat I’ve had all day! 🙂

Carrie 05:02:04 pm


Ally 05:02:31 pm

Can you be smarter than everyone in a bright color frame?
I think the blue Haskell are smart AND fun?

Carrie 05:03:41 pm

I really love the Haskells, they’re so smart
if you look through Instagram, I’m eye_c_books, and I have quite a few WP posts

Ally 05:05:02 pm

Right on! Very smart. I feel like a lot of our frames are traditionally “smarter” (square, statement, black/brown) but the Haskell are smart with a twist
Ally 05:06:48 pm

Wow, great pics. The Wilder looks awesome on you!

Carrie 05:09:20 pm

thank you! The Wilders and the Eatons seem to be getting the most votes
I like the Eatons, because I wear jeans a lot, and they kind of have a denim feel/hue to them
I’m wearing my Ainsworths now.

Ally 05:10:19 pm

Very true. They also have gotten the most instagram love – gotta trust the followers

Carrie 05:10:29 pm


Ally 05:10:55 pm

I think that’s the move!

Carrie 05:10:58 pm

thank you so much for tolerating my silliness, one last question

Ally 05:11:15 pm

Thank you for brightening my day! I could use a little entertainment at 5:15!

Carrie 05:11:17 pm

What are you currently reading?

Ally 05:11:29 pm

Great question! My book club is reading Fates and Furies – you?

Carrie 05:12:54 pm

I’m wrapping up The Man Who Sold the World: David Bowie and the 1970s
After this, it’s either M Train by Patti Smith or Bazaar of Bad Dreams by Stephen King
Ally 05:14:16 pm

Can’t go wrong with Stephen King! I’ll have to look up M Train – never heard of it!

Carrie 05:14:39 pm

It’s her follow-up to Just Kids, have you read that one?

Ally 05:15:20 pm

I haven’t! I just graduated from school in the spring so I’ve been doing a lot of academic reading these past few years, I have a lot to catch up on.

Carrie 05:15:46 pm

Ohhhhhhhhh, you HAVE to read that one! One of my all-time favourites!
Patti is quintessential New York!

Ally 05:16:24 pm

I’ll put it on the list! My book club is a bunch of twentysomething‘s trying to get cultured so I’ll recommend it haha

Carrie 05:16:43 pm

lol – Have them revisit Vonnegut then

Ally 05:16:54 pm

not THAT cultured 😉

Carrie 05:17:05 pm

And anything Neil Gaiman!

Ally 05:17:30 pm

I’ll recommend them!

Carrie 05:17:31 pm

what were you studying in University?

Ally 05:17:53 pm

The history of science and technology!

Carrie 05:18:01 pm

So you’re loaded up on Hawking I take it?

Ally 05:18:58 pm

Yes – and I’m still not sure if the universe exists, let’s just leave it at that!

Carrie 05:19:19 pm

lol – keep watching Dr. Who, you’ll be fine.
or read The Elegant Universe by Brian Greene – THAT will blow your mind
I’m a huge bibliophile

Ally 05:21:12 pm

Jeez, it looks like you have a lot of reading list on your hands – we better get you some new reading glasses then!

Carrie 05:21:35 pm

exactly! thank you for the discount, by the bye
I won’t take up anymore of your time, you’ve been awesome

Ally 05:22:12 pm

You’re very welcome! Thanks for the afternoon entertainment! Have a great rest of your day

Carrie 05:22:25 pm

lol my pleasure and you too!


So let this be a lesson to you; you can talk to and have fun with strangers.  Sometimes the candy ain’t so bad!

How Something Bad Can Provoke Something Good

This past weekend was a bittersweet one.

I did not march in the protest, though I wanted to. I wanted my voice in the chorus of power, to tell the country exactly where I stood. Certain barriers, though invisible, were overpowering. Barriers like anxiety, which are overwhelming at the most inconvenient times, can get Rudolph to keep himself out of the reindeer games.

As frustration mounts, I know that simply standing by the wayside is not an option. To be mute is as unforgivable as being with the opponents. Stagnancy has no place here.

So I revert to what I know makes me feel stronger: art.

Art is a great portal to a welcoming world. It is all-encompassing, it is all-consuming, or at least it should be. It is communication without speaking.

A test run

Art is the foundation from which happiness grows. It doesn’t have to be a Degas, it only has to be a you. It has to be genuinely you. That’s the only rule.

The piece above isn’t exactly breath-taking, but it’s all me. It was a message that railed against the walls of my brain. It would not be ignored until it was let out.

This is how you can protest. Fight with your head and hands, and you will always come out the winner.

When the Fence You’re On Starts To Give Out

As we get closer to the end of the month, closer to the time where I’ll be taking all my toys and heading to a new sandbox, I start taking harder looks at the sandlot I’m currently in, and doing so more frequently. With each scan, the nagging question nags louder than the last time;

How did I get all this stuff?

Seriously, how?

I don’t even remember when I got half this stuff.

I sound like a bad revamp of a George Carlin routine. Don’t get me wrong, I love Carlin. Rest in peace, guy. You’re still in our heads and hearts.

But holy shitballs, Batman! THIS IS A LOT OF STUFF!

I keep procrastinating going through all my stuff, because it’s so overwhelming. I have watched commercials and looked longingly at print ads of homes with a minimalist feel. It’s always two thoughts that run my brain at the same time when I see them.

A) God, how I would love to have so little.

Orange) Those lying bastards. There’s a room in that house that has all their real crap jammed along the perimeters, I just know it!

And then the train does that ringing sound, and I’m pulled back into reality. I have to leave the train and do the mad dash to the office. When I work in Manhattan, I’m often in the Chelsea district, or at least neighbouring the area in Midtown.

After work, it’s a 50/50 chance I’ll be heading to The Strand.

The Strand.

That big, beautiful, spectacular beast of Biblio-Camelot. If we could marry stores, I’d be in a lifetime commitment with the brick bastard. We’re already sharing my money, so why not?

Sometimes, I get to meet up with my friend, Danielle, and we’ll go in together, soaking up wisdom and fiction. This is our happy place. Strand is the vortex from which we gain new insights. And more books. Also, t-shirts, bags, socks, magnets, candy, calendars, notebooks. The Strand is basically Target for smart people. Ooooh! Ice cube trays with the forms of octopi! Well, shit! I HAVE to get THAT!

Wait, where was I? Oh yeah! Stuff.

Danielle and I have walked through a lot of midtown, many times with the question escaping my lips, “how am I going to be able to leave here?”

“I don’t know, Carrie.”

About ten minutes have passed, and we’re likely in East Village. I ask the question again, and really I think I don’t even address it to her, but to the sky and/or myself. As if somehow clouds will form mouths, and I’ll suddenly hear the Voice of Reason. It would sound remarkably like Samuel L. Jackson.

“Shit, bitch, figure it out! You don’t have the wallet for New York. Find someplace the fuck else and regroup!”

I guess it doesn’t need to be mentioned the Voice of Reason is oftentimes cranky and impatient.

Still, on the fence I sit, and on the fence I fester. Until very recently where an opportunity presented itself, and a new city broke into my head like the Kool-Aid guy, but with less fanfare.

Providence, Rhode Island! Population — 178,042.

I think I see that many people just getting off the F train and heading into Penn Plaza. How can a city not even reach the 200,000 mark? That’s incredible.

I’m reassured by many friends that I’ll like it there a lot. The fact that there’s a library within a 10 minute range of the house is HUGE. Because priorities. The second most important thing was the guarantee of Dunkin’ Donuts.

You can see what truly matters in life where I’m concerned.

The biggest aspect to consider is that this is all brand new to me. For the longest time, my mentality was that there were two places in the world; New York City and Not New York City. I had no interest in the latter, but I was convinced I was going to live out my days in the former.

When I moved to Brooklyn 4+ years ago, I didn’t bother to get a NY driver’s licence. I decided on the state ID because I figured I’d never have to drive a car ever again.

Need a lift?

Never say never.

Now, I have to shed about 90% of my belongings (not counting for the hardback autographed, 10th Anniversary edition of Neil Gaiman’s American Gods— be real). I have to say buh-bye to the city I love, the city I will always love, unequivocally, but can’t afford.

I have to go through all my papers and deliberate on what to keep vs what to toss. I’d like to toss all of it, but I know that isn’t feasible.

Hey Siri, how do I schedule a home burglary?


I Really Need To Stop Buying So Much Cr- OOOOOH, SOCKS!



So there are a few things you should know about me if you don’t already know me.

  • I have a wicked, untreated case of ADD/ADHD/OCD/PMS/OPP (yeah, you know me).  Which essentially means that I can clean house like a demon, partially, while listening to music, and bitching about how much crap I have until Mr. Douchecanoe downstairs starts to out-decibel me in the volume department.  He always loses, I don’t know why he even tries.
  • I’m not married.  I think this really is best for everyone.  We have enough victims in the world, no?  Can you imagine waking up to a woman who looks uncomfortably like Christopher Walken, requesting more cowbell?  Methinks not.  Stop asking me when it’s going to happen. It won’t.
  • I have no kids.  See above for the reason. (Plus, really, I am my own kid.  I often give in to my own needs, just to get me to shut up.  You know that rack of candy by the register?  Yeah.  Yeah.)
  • I came into the world much later than the due date given, and I think it’s translated into every appointment, interview and check-in time ever since.  I was born 3 weeks late, my biological mother was in labour for 22 hours, AND they had to use the salad spoons.  AND IT STILL TOOK EFFORT!  I’m basically the elusive piece of lettuce that keeps sliding through the prongs.  If ever there was a child who did not want to be born – HI! – it was me.  (She probably still has claw marks along her inner walls.)  (You’re welcome.)  As a result of the over-cooked bun in the oven, some of the “stuffing” – as it were – is a little stale, a little rock hard.  Whatever.  Snoopy is still my favourite cartoon.
  • I also have the rock wall called bipolar depression.  The plus of all this is the ADD only lets me be sad for a little while, and then there’s YouTube clips, Pinterest ideas, and everything on Facebook.  (I happily discovered that I’m not the only one who calls George Takei “Uncle George”.  I have this whole huge family I didn’t even know about!)  And on top of all of those goodies, there’s the magical world of Amazon, where you can literally get ANYTHING!

Okay, so let me explain why I’m writing this blog in the first place.

I’m very likely moving to Rhode Island in the beginning of February.  By bus.  No shit, I’m literally planning on getting two huge suitcases of the crap I want/have to keep, and leaving everything else by the wayside.  I’ve been selling a lot of my stuff, like the CDs and DVDs I haven’t listened to or watched in years, because, hey, DIGITAL!  The method I’ve used to sell said items is an app called Decluttr, and they pay literally pennies on the dollar spent for such winners as Pussycat Dolls, Grammy Winners, Norah Jones, Moby, and Alice in Chains.  (The word is “eclectic” folks.  Eclectic.  Don’t judge me, you little Jethro Tull stalker!)  Don’t give me grief about The Pussycat Dolls, either.  I was in my 20’s, and they were strange and confusing times.

I digress.

In order to get these gems mailed out, Decluttr emails me a “kit”, which is basically the list of items I’ve scanned to send to them using my phone.  They also send the mailing label so that I don’t have to pay shipping, which is really what sold me on selling them, and not just tossing these plastic bastards in the rubbish.  So, I do the scanny-scan thing, hit “Save”, tap the screen a few more times, and they email me their “kit”.

The next step is to open my email.  I was terrible about opening my email last year.  I would literally go weeks before getting through the myriad of emails, thankyouverynothing, Depression.  But I vowed to be better this year about it, so here goes.  And this is where you have to pay attention because this is where ADD is the feature player.

I opened a new window, get into my email, and discover my absolute FAVOURITE blogger, Jenny Lawson, The Bloggess, has uploaded a new blog.  She has hilarious posts that almost always put me in a good mood. (Don’t read too much into the “almost”…’16 was a rough year.)  So now, my brain’s all “We were supposed to do something?  Huh?” I skip right past the very important, much needed, this-will-get-you-train-fare-for-a-day-and-a-half email, and go right into Happy Land, reading her blog.

We’re not done here.  Quit wriggling, get comfy, there’s more.

Along the left side of the screen is an ad for socks.  Perhaps one of a few highlights of 2016, was my self-discovery of a funky sock-addiction I apparently have.  I don’t know where it came from, I don’t know what broke inside me that suddenly I had to own everything that had more personality than me (this explains why I’m always scrounging for moolah) and this new ad for socks is EVERYTHING!

So I found these Asshole socks pictured at the top, but when I tried to save the picture from the Amazon site, they weren’t having it.  So I had to open ANOTHER WINDOW, do a search through Bing with the descriptor of “asshole socks” and I did not – I repeat DID NOT – see exactly what I was looking for.  I did, however, discover how flexible naked women really are with their bodies.  And some of them were wearing socks.  So Bing doesn’t get an F for the day, more a C-.  I think I’m being generous, really.  Not as generous as Gigi with her rainbow stockings and the, uhhh, lollipop.  I don’t ever want to be that generous.  Also, lollipops are officially off the list of Candies I Can Have.  Looks like it’s just you and me, Swedish Fish.

My brain is currently fighting itself for whether I really need another pair of socks.

I don’t.  But I want them.  But I don’t need them.  But I kind of do. Carrie, nobody cares about your socks, they aren’t looking at your feet.  But I care, motherfucker.  Don’t call me a motherfucker, that’s physically impossible, and you know it.  Whatever, I want these socks.  You can get them later, they don’t go away if you just wait.  If I wait, I’ll forget about them.  That just proves you don’t need them, you’re just being impulsive.  Am not.  Quit sulking.


Fine, I won’t get them… yet.

Ooooh, The Strand is having a sale!