The Girl who Goes Places and Does Things
(and her little dog, Tu)

By Hellen_Wheels with special correspondent Wendy Darling Needlespeople

It was heartbreaking leaving Tu in San Francisco while I visiting New York City. But she managed, surrounded in shifts by humans that doted on her & made her comfortable by picking out the little grossities that gather in her eyebrows and feeding her enough forbidden people-food to facilitate a lovely little closet poo garden. As for New York City, it's like San Francisco on steroids without the homeless. EVERY corner crossing there is akin to Oak and Masonic (I believe the pedestrian hits are up to about 10 for the month there now). Okay, NYC has homeless, too, but I didn't get hit up for dough a single time. It's not so inyaface gimmegimmegimme. They didn't exhibit darling little half-wit signs & offer up other sundry entertainment meant to show their sense of humor and fun.

Oh, by the way, that black gentleman with the long boring sign listing his name, family history, and sob story (he can usually found begging outside of Martuni's or in the Castro) is rumored by a very reliable source to have a killer rent-controlled apartment in one of the nicer buildings on Market Street. And the guy in the army fatigues on 3rd Street, while trying to pick me up on the 15 MUNI, told me that begging is only his "day job" and that he has a damn fine income from a work-at-home business which allows him to work evenings so days are free for begging. His sign reads "Why Lie? I Need a Beer." And that is definitely the saucy slogan of choice for perky homeless across the country these days. Here's an idea: if everyone STOPS giving money to beggars and instead gives spare change to local charities, maybe we'll stop being bombarded by lying pseudo-bums and really help the TRUE needy with our extra coins. As for the screaming bunghole with the bush scaring the tourists at Fisherman's Wharf, he should be tossed to the Willie Browns in the bay for lunch. Now that I'd give a dime for.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, New York City. The subways are ON TIME! They run FREQUENTLY! They didn't STINK! There was no misspelled graffiti. The workers were polite. Helpful, even, if you understand Microphonese. "Next Stop: Brjp[jgljf'j;ljk';k. Thanks for riding with us." There was a FIRE at one subway stop and the trains were still running, on time, and people were on hand to give alternate route directions. Imagine! In San Francisco, if someone merely lights a cigarette at a bus stop, there's a two-day delay. Where was I again? We spied Ethan Hawke and Uma Thurman out with their child in the park. Uma looked like crap, which was refreshing for her to get to look like, I'm sure. Ethan was up-to-the-minute in embroidered jeans and leather vest. He was angelic and luminous and gave me two wonderfully deep glances. As Uma whispered "I love you I love you I love you" to young Miles (who seemed extremely frightened by her giant chin-zit), Ethan suggested they leave or be late for the birthday party.

As they sashayed off I suggested stalking them, but the rest of my party was bored and appalled by my star-fucking behaviour. It's not that I wanted to really stalk them, I just thought it would be funny to pretend we thought they were Jennifer and Brad and ask for autographs. But it wasn't to be. Instead we took the ferry to see the Green Lady. We wanted to go deep inside her but there was a 3-hour wait. I'm used to waiting, being a MUNI card-holder and all, but one of our party was a continuously bouncing 8-year old we just couldn't deal. We skipped the wait and headed to Ellis Island to search for long-lost relatives and enjoy $8 hot dogs.

After that I started missing Tu and came home early. Not really but I'm tired now and nothing else very exciting happened except that I made a Barbie-Head salad with the aforementioned 8-year old and pooped a few times. The water pressure isn't regulated there so the toilet flushed beautifully. The shower was nicely powerful, too. All in all, New York City was fun but lacked the eccentricities and special charm we misfit toys enjoy. I flip it three birds.

It's Good to Be Home. God, I love this Town.

To read more by Hellen Wheels, click here