Last week, I almost threw in the towel. Between seeing my ex in my neighborhood 32 times, the St. Paddy’s Day Parade, and a mouse infestation, I thought I was done with New York. New York City? New York Shitty! This Big City Siren was ready to pack her bags and get the hell out.
I discussed my ex invading my neighborhood last week, so this week I will get right to how green beer and Ratatouille almost got the best of me.
Every St. Paddy’s Day, I put on my green something or other, drink one or two green beers, and get a little drunk. Fine, no problem. This year, I had to work for part of the day, which was fine, but when I tried to get home afterwards, I got stuck in the parade. I fought through a sea of drunk, green douche bags to 51st street to try to get across town, but I was told by the authorities that I’d have to cross at 57th. I walked uptown through the garbage to 57th (I’m talking about inebriated Jersey trash, not the array of beer cans and “Kiss me I’m Irish” paraphernalia on the street), where I was promptly sent me back down to 51st. Back on 51st, I yelled at a cop (who then yelled back at me), and then waited for 40 minutes just to get to Fifth Avenue. As I waited in line to cross the street, surrounded by the most intoxicated, obnoxious people I’ve ever seen, that I decided St Paddy’s day is the most disgusting holiday of the year. If we want other countries to hate us, we should take a quick video of Midtown on St Paddy’s Day.
As for the mouse problem, it seemed to develop overnight, and it made me and my dog Oliver and prisoners in our own home. I first noticed Oliver acting creepy and lurking around in my closet. I just thought he was sniffing my laundry (to be honest, he wouldn’t have been the first man in my life to sniff my dirty underwear). Later that night though, while I was lying peacefully in bed, I heard a little noise. Then I heard scurrying. Oliver tried to take control of the issue. He swatted under the fridge, the dresser, and the bed while I laid frozen in in terror. After a night of Oliver battling beneath me, I woke up to a dead mouse. So Oliver had fought the mouse and won! Hooray! But it didn’t end there. From that point on, Oliver and I freaked out at every little noise. Oliver killed two more and I caught another four in traps (traumatic). Then one night, around 2 AM, Oliver jolted out of bed and bit a mouse which then fell out of his mouth and landed belly-up on a glue trap. Oliver bit the mouse again, and the glue trap got stuck to Oliver’s face. Try peeling a glue trap with a dead mouse on it off your dog’s face. Then try going back to sleep. Later, after flirting with my super and begging him to come over to “plug up my holes,” I finally got some help.
Lindsey Gentile is an actor, writer, comedienne, and all-around gal-about-town. Every Thursday, she reports from the front lines of single life in NYC. Check out her website HERE. Need more Big City Siren? No problem.
