Tag Archives: waterbury

Stupid Thursday

Posted on by
Reply

Mike and I started to notice a pattern on Thursdays: on that one day out of the week, stupid drivers are everywhere. In fact, stupid driving is almost encouraged. In my city, there is really no such thing as common courtesy on the road. “We” — meaning the drivers in Waterbury in general — pretend we are driving in New York or New Haven, by cutting off other cars, turning without using a signal, stopping suddenly in the middle of the road, signaling left to turn right and right to turn left, pulling over without warning, and dozens of other things. But on Thursdays, the stupid is taken to a new level. Mike and I always know it’s Thursday when people are driving like blind, unfed cats.

Throw in a mass power outage and knock out most of the city’s traffic lights, and you get Extra Stupid Thursday. Without the aid of electronics, though, people forget that Thursday is already gone, and Stupid Thursday is extended to every day.

“What is so hard about acting like you’re at a stop sign when the lights at the intersection are out?!” I kept saying on Saturday, the day of the storm… and on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday… Fast forward to today, and the stupid is strong within everyone.

Once power is completely restored to Connecticut, though, you can expect Stupid Thursday to return to its regularly scheduled programming. At least I always know when it’s Thursday.

I Survived My Birthday

Posted on by
1

Well, after almost three days of being off the grid, we got power back a few hours ago. I honestly feel kind of guilty, since we were managing just fine, and on the news tonight they showed all of the damage and further safety issues throughout the state. We could have had it so much worse, and yet now we have power and it’s almost like nothing happened here, while much of the state is at risk for flooding, is still off the grid, and suffered a lot of property damage.

Still, I also feel like we’re very lucky, and I’m very grateful. We spent the last few days cooking on the gas stove in our apartment. We lost a lot of food, but managed to save some of it, too. Last night, Mike, Lauren, and I walked around the corner to Mary’s house and played games by candlelight with Sandy, Mary, and Taylore. We had a lot of fun.

Saturday night, before Irene hit, we had everything ready; Mom and Dad had stocked up on water, batteries, and non-perishable food, I got Squirt’s cat carrier ready, I packed a bag of clothes just in case we had to evacuate, and we all tried to sleep without much luck. By the time Irene hit, though, it was only a tropical storm — which still does a lot of damage, but less than a hurricane, so Connecticut was fairly lucky, relatively speaking. I’m glad we didn’t have to evacuate or go into the cellar, because Biz Noni — my great-grandmother — would have had to go outside in it, and the thought of that really bothered me.

We also faced the possibility of looting and home invasions. Like Dad said, people get desperate and you just never know, so he loaded up the shotgun and we all, I think, slept with one eye open. It was a little unnerving, in the middle of a completely pitch black neighborhood that isn’t all that safe to begin with. Still, we didn’t have any major problems, and I’m more grateful than I could ever possibly express.

Unfortunately, we’re kind of back to reality, and my reality right now is my car, affectionately known as Ellie. It shit the bed a couple of days before the storm; poor Mike was driving by himself, and it literally died in the middle of the road. Right now it’s up in the BJ’s parking lot, and we have no idea what’s wrong with it. For the last few weeks, it’s been smelling like burning rubber after driving it for a while, but there wasn’t any smoking or anything wrong that I could see, so we don’t even know yet if it’s the same problem. Dad’s going to look at it tomorrow, now that we’re out of the “dark” and my sister Lauren is moved back into her dorm.

So yeah, it’s been an exciting week. I can definitely say I’ve never had this exciting of a birthday. Luckily, we had cake on Saturday, so at least I got my ice cream cake before we lost power Sunday, on my actual birthday. I think that would have added insult to injury, as shallow as that might sound. My mom and dad got me the Lungs album by Florence + the Machine, and I can’t stop listening to it. It’s really, really good. I’m pretty obsessed with it, and can already tell it’s going to be one of the CDs I will have owned for years and have come close to wearing out.

Today, the 31st, is Mike’s and my five-year anniversary. He had some super secret, big plans for my birthday and our anniversary, but because of the car it’s going to be a while. We’re still going out to dinner I think, because he said Mom and Dad told him he could borrow Mom’s car to take me out to dinner. As crazy as this might sound, I think a quiet night out will be more than enough of a gift in my eyes, after the week we all had.

If you’re on the East Coast, how are you faring after Miss Irene came to visit? I hope you’re safe.

Should brutal crimes be treated with brutal punishment? I think so.

Posted on by
12

On my way to work this morning, I stopped at City Gas, a gas station that’s been on my street for years. Though I used to buy gas and cigarettes there all of the time, I still don’t know the owner’s name. He’s always looked out for me, though, which is why I feel safe going there even after dark.

This morning, he was angry. He asked me if I’d read the newspaper this morning, and when I said no, he picked up a copy and pointed angrily at the front page, where the lead story was about a sixteen-year-old girl, Chloe Ottman, who had been raped and murdered this weekend*.

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I don’t understand. At all.”

“He rape her! Okay, fine, he rape her, but why he have to kill her?! He should be hung,” he said in his thick Middle Eastern accent. “At Holy Land! On God’s land, he kill her. Why he have to kill her?!”

I’ve never seen him angry, but I agreed, completely. As half of me insisted I needed to get going, that I was already late for work, the other half of me wanted to mourn with him.

“It say she good student. Now her life over, he go to jail, get food, bed, TV… I pay taxes, you pay taxes, we pay for this man to live good life, and her life over. Why?! He should be hung! Women have soft heart. Women don’t deserve this,” my friend said.

“I know,” I said, feeling tears prick at my eyes. “I don’t understand. It’s mindblowing.”

And it is. What’s even more surreal is, I have connections to both her family and her boyfriend. My sister, Lauren, went to school with her boyfriend, Jeremy. Her mother is Mike’s stepfather’s brother’s girlfriend. It’s also surreal because this happened right in my backyard. Once again, my community is mourning for one of their own.

Like my gas station friend said, there are plenty of prostitutes this guy could have gone to, if he wanted sex. And since he obviously didn’t choose to go that route, why did he have to murder this girl after raping her? Yes, rape is bad enough, and it’s enough to destroy a life. But she could have had a chance to keep on living. Her family would still have her, and her friends would still have her.

And speaking of friends, what kills me is, this guy was supposed to be her friend! According to the article, they had been friends for two years. Now, in my opinion, a nineteen-year-old guy has no business hanging around with a sixteen-year-old after dark, up at Holy Land, but she trusted him! I cannot imagine thinking that I was going for a walk with a friend, only to be betrayed like that.

My heart is heavy with grief for her and her family, and I didn’t even know her. But the brutality of her death and how young she was is what makes me grieve. She should have been given a fair chance at life.

And this motherfucker, this Francisco Cruz, should be hung — by his balls. Why do we not use the death penalty here in Connecticut? Why do scumbags like Francisco Cruz, Steven J. Hayes, and Joshua Komisarjevsky get to continue living, when their victims cannot, and their victims’ families must try to go on, knowing that their loved ones suffered so much, and yet their murderers suffer so little? Cruz admitted to raping and murdering Chloe. Fuck the trial. Hang him, in such a way that he knows even half of the suffering that Chloe knew.

Different people have different opinions about the death penalty, but if the crime fits, the punishment should be fitting, too! I am not religious, but I am a believer in an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. If we had more brutal punishments, I cannot imagine even half of the crime we have right now. Back in the days when everyone carried a gun and the punishment for theft, murder, or cheating was to be shot or hung, there was less crime. You can argue that there was a smaller population, but people actually feared the law — AKA the hangman’s shaft. I don’t believe that we should use the death penalty for every crime, but brutal crimes like rape, murder, and child molestation should be treated as the brutal crimes they are.

I didn’t mean for this post to be so angry. Initially, it was just to mourn Chloe’s death. I hope that she is at peace now. Chloe, her family, and her friends and boyfriend Jeremy are in my thoughts. I am so, so sorry for your loss.

*The story I linked to is from NBC, as opposed to Rep-Am (the paper he pointed to), because Rep-Am locks their stories after seven days and as far as I know, NBC doesn’t.

Politics, swine flu, and hot birthday girls

Posted on by
4

I stayed up late last night writing and talking to Mike on Facebook. Yes, I know, we could have easily called each other, but it’s more fun to let Facebook’s messenger wreak havoc on our computers and stall everything. But that’s Facebook for you!

Yesterday was also Election Day. I so wanted Mr. Theriault to beat Jarjura out of mayor. I can’t stand Jarjura, and Theriault was my elementary school principal. I’m glad I voted though; I almost didn’t go because I didn’t feel like driving two seconds down the street. (What? I wanted to go to Barnes and Noble to write!) I convinced myself by asking myself, What if my vote is the one vote he needs to beat Jarjura? Unfortunately, Jarjura won. Again.

To make things worse, today is Wednesday and this? Is the longest week, ever. Can I say, however, that I have been possibly exposed to swine flu THREE TIMES and have escaped it? (It’s coming to get me, you know.) My four-year-old goddaughter has some sort of flu (Sandy is getting her tested to see exactly what strain), my Aunt Rikki has some sort of flu, and her daughter Katarina — who is two, almost three — also has the flu. My mom, who is a psych tech at the hospital, said that regular flu season hasn’t begun yet, so the state is saying that if you have the flu, odds are it’s H1N1 — swine flu. (H1N1 sounds like some nerdy fifteen-year-old boy’s name choice, complete with freckles, acne, glasses, and a sock to masturbate in.)

In other, completely unrelated and much more exciting news, I bought this little cube of Post-it notes that POP UP. You can pull them out one at a time! And the bottom has this little circle of rubber-like material that sticks to your desk like you wouldn’t believe. If you felt it, you would not believe that it actually sticks. And clearly I need to either get some sleep or get a life.

Anyway, today is also Hilly‘s birthday, who is fucking awesome. She’s also hot, which helps her awesome case. So go smother her with birthday wishes!

<3

Ya can't knock free food

Posted on by
9

I recently received a gift certificate for one of ten local restaurants from someone who really liked some work I did for them.

I like food, but I’m not a foodie. I don’t really visit any of our local restaurants because I already have my favorite franchises. I mean, yeah, I love Frankie’s (which is the best hot dog franchise in Connecticut and now Florida), but it’s not like I go out of my way to go to any of our other restaurants. Waterbury doesn’t really have any of its own local “flavor” that other towns have — at least, I don’t think so.

But I’m not one to turn down a free meal, especially not when it meant a night out alone with Mike.

Initially, I asked him what he was in the mood for, because I didn’t really care. He wanted Tuscan-style food, and most of our restaurant choices were Italian. The more I thought about it, though, the less I wanted Italian. I mean, I eat Italian food at home all the time, and I also eat it when I go to my aunt’s, which is pretty often. Our only other choices were a Tex-Mex restaurant, or an American/European restaurant. The latter’s website didn’t have a menu. I was suddenly really homesick for Deerfield Beach and the Tex-Mex food down there, so I decided to give the Waterbury version a shot.

Crossroads Cantina is a restaurant tucked in the industrial section of downtown. It’s a little offset from the main road, hidden behind what looks like a warehouse and a maze of highway on-ramps and exits. It was pretty quiet outside, but as soon as we entered the automatic doors we were blasted with chatter and loud music. It became very clear very quickly that I wasn’t going to get the private atmosphere that I had daydreamed about all day.

Still, free dinner is free dinner, and I was pretty hungry. Our waitress seated us and let us know that she was new. “I’m probably going to suck,” she told us. She reminded me a little of Lauren, my younger sister. She was about Lauren’s age — maybe younger — and she was really friendly.

She took our order — which took a while because we had a few questions and she had to run back and forth to ask someone else when she didn’t know some of the answers, and Mike always takes a long time to order anyway — and then brought us tortilla chips and salsa. The chips were pretty good, if not a little greasy. The salsa was deliciously spicy but sort of reminded me of the stuff you could buy in the store. According to the menu, both were housemade every morning.

They were pretty busy, which is probably why it took so long for both our appetizer and our entrees to come out. But when Mike tried to cut his chicken breast with a fork and, unable to do it, asked a passing waitress for a knife, he got a butter knife. We had a good laugh over it, but he still had a hard time getting his meat cut.

The rice that came with my quesadilla was dry, and the quesadilla itself didn’t have much chicken or cheese in it. I like the quesadillas at 99 — a franchise restaurant in our city — a lot better.

I came to the conclusion that Crossroads probably gets its reputation because it’s the only Tex-Mex in town and because most of the people that go there come to drink and are probably too drunk to notice that the food isn’t totally stellar.

Still, our waitress was friendly and she did pretty good, considering it was only her third night and her first night with the place packed. I tipped her pretty well, though I’m probably biased since she reminded me of my little sister.

Mike and I compared notes on the ride home, and passed one of the restaurants we could have gone to.

“We would have probably got our food faster if we’d gone there,” he said. “We probably would have been outta there an hour ago.”

“True,” I said, feeling a little guilty for talking him out of Italian.

He took a right when our light turned green. “Ya can’t knock free food, though.”