Some notes on life in da hood

I swear, if I hear one more person who doesn't live in my neighborhood walking around with other people who don't live in my neighborhood, pointing out examples of my neighborhood's "gritty charm," I'm going to hurt someone.

I've started taking yoga on Saturdays at the Kiwi Studio on Essex. It kicks my ass. Yesterday, about halfway through the class, the instructor announced that we were going to start working on handstands. The collective "are you fucking kidding me?" look that fell over the class was priceless. Only three people attempted the handstand. I was not one of them.

On the way back, I stopped at Tiny's Giant Sandwich Shop for a tasty happy crackhead salad, or whatever it's called. Then I walked home, passing ABC No Rio. When I walk by ABC No Rio on Saturday afternoons in my sneakers and sweats, carrying a yoga mat, and the punk kids glance over at me, I feel like the ultimate yuppie asshole. Or somebody's really uncool mom.

Someone with this phone number called me three times at 4:00 this morning. 359888562749. Was it you?