Bucky Across the Pond

Not that you'll even notice, but the blog will be on hiatus for about a week while I'm in England. I am to be a godmother. So while I'm gone I'll leave you with a little photo of godchild to be. A not quite full report to follow upon my return.

Happy Fake Easter

Easter always bothers me — except every four years or so when the stars align and all the Easters fall on the same date. It bothers me because I know what it must feel like not be Christian in a Christian society; and what it feels like is annoying. I'm annoyed at having to explain over and over - sometimes to the same people - thanking you for wishing me a Happy Easter, but no, it's not my Easter. Do I go around wishing random people holidays they don't celebrate? No. I do not. And if I did, they would certainly complain about it. So now it's my turn to complain.

This year the Eastern Orthodox Easter, along with the Passover it always follows, isn't until the end of April. A full month after the Western world celebrates it's Easter.

I'm annoyed by the people I encounter who keep giving me sad looks like, "Oh, poor girl, she has no one to spend the holiday with." And I want to shout at them, "It's NOT MY EASTER! Stop feeling sorry for me." And then I'm annoyed because I feel sad I have no one to spend the day with. Just me and Roland, doing laundry and repotting the cactus and finishing our state taxes (well, my taxes; he's finishing a bone I gave him last week).

I'm annoyed because I have to work tomorrow and I leave on Wednesday for England and I need to do a bunch of stuff and this is my only day off to do them and I can't because all of the stupid stores are closed for Easter. It makes me want to scream, "What about all the people who AREN'T Western Christians?! Huh? There are a lot of Jews here, a goodly number of Hindus and Muslims and Orthodox Christians too! We NEED to shop. Why aren't you open for us?!

I'm also annoyed because it's the end of March and it's still cold outside...but that's a different topic for a different day.

Crazy excuse for bad driving 3012: It wasn't me officer, it was the Oreo

SALISBURY, Conn. (AP) — Police say a man’s excuse for speeding through a small Connecticut town takes the cake — or, at least, the cookie.

A state trooper who stopped the 1993 BMW says its driver, 28-year-old Justin Vonkummer of Millerton, N.Y., blamed the driving problems on an errant Oreo.

Police say Vonkummer told the trooper that an Oreo had just slipped from his fingers as he dunked it in a cup of milk, and that he was trying to fish it out when he lost control of his car.

The alleged incident occurred last fall in Salisbury, but came to light in Bantam Superior Court this week.

That’s when prosecutors learned Vonkummer had been charged with speeding and driving under a suspended license — not driving under the influence, as a clerk had mistakenly noted in the court records.

Vonkummer’s attorney would not comment. The case is pending.

Me gusta mucho Ashley Tisdale

Everyone must go to this site immediately. It is so totally bizarre. I have no words for it.

Party Train

I don't think you really get how truly crowded the 10:51 a.m. St. Patrick's Day train to Grand Central was from this photo, but it gives you a hint. My car was standing room only and people were singing, chanting, banging on the roof of the car. At one point I thought they were going to stop the train and call the police.

At least twice the conductor came over the intercom to ask people to put out their cigarettes. (Might I remind you, you can't even smoke in bars in New York!) One guy had one of those camel packs long-distance runners wear to stay hydrated and he had filled it full of what looked like vodka and was going around giving people shots. He was falling down drunk and it wasn't even noon. Another girl had shot glasses stuck to her suspenders and was giving people shots. EVERYONE had cups or bottles filled with liquor. There were cases of beer.

I swear, it was like someone took the French Quarter at Mardi Gras and crammed it into a train. I had my iPod turned up to full volume and I couldn't hear the music. My boyfriend called and he said, "Is that the train?!" He couldn't believe I wasn't at a bar. He said he'd text message me instead and hung up.

The woman who sat next to me, sighed when she got on. "I took the latest train I could. I have to go to work. I was hoping to avoid most of this." [The parade was at 11 a.m. This train didn't get into Grand Central until about 12:10.]

It was a hilarious ride - way crazier than my New Year's Eve trip two years ago. But, it was also annoying after a while since I wasn't doing any drinking. I had a massive headache by the time we pulled into Grand Central.

My ride home last night

This happened on my train car:

Fight results in stabbing at train station

BEACON – A fight between two groups on a northbound Metro-North train late Monday night resulted in a Newburgh man being stabbed in the side.

Beacon City Police Chief Glenn Scofield said Tuesday that the fight apparently began on the train and spilled over onto the platform when it arrived in Beacon around 11:40 p.m.

The victim, a 22-year-old man who he declined to identify, sustained a minor stab wound and refused medical treatment at the scene, the chief said.

No arrests have been made and the investigation is continuing.

(Bad Luck) O' The Irish

This was my St. Patrick's Day. German and Italian beer and pizza. What is they say — if it weren't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all. That pretty much sums up my life, relationship included.

I have a pretty funny train ride in story, but that's about as Irish as my day got. As soon as I arrived in NYC, I had to wait for my boyfriend to arrive, as always. I sat at Starbucks for about an hour. Then he picks me up and announces that he passed a couple of Irish-pub type places on the way in and they were packed and he's decided we weren't staying in the city. So he takes me to Staten Island. He doesn't ask me, he just takes me there. I had plans with someone later in the evening - a former reporter of mine who now works in the city. The boyfriend was working nights this week and so when he went home to sleep, I was going to hang out with my friend and get in some celebrating time.

Instead we go to Staten Island, drive around for two hours. I don't know what we're looking for. He makes about five references to going to Chili's - though he knows I wanted to do an Irish pub or at the least get a corned beef sandwich; something he had previously claimed to also want to do. Finally, I say, "Fine. Let's go to Chili's. I don't care. I'm starving." (It's now 3 p.m.) And he snaps at me, "What's with your attitude?! You don't think I'm hungry too!" And that was pretty much the end of our conversation for the day.

We wind up at this Italian restaurant/pizzaria called Villa Monte and have pizza and the beer seen above. Then he takes me back to his apartment where he packs for his week at work and then takes a nap. I nap too, because I have nothing better to do. We wake up at 7:10 p.m. and finally around 7:45 p.m. I say to him, "What are your plans for me?" And as if it's an annoyance, he says to me, "I'll drop you off at a train station in the city on the way to work." Which is what he does.

When he drops me off, he leans over to kiss me and I reflexively, without even thinking, turn my head so he winds up kissing me on the cheek. He says to call him when I get home and something about being safe, but by that time I was already out the car door and halfway to the station. I did not call him when I got home.

And that was my day.

I'll write up the brief, but funny tale of my trip in later. When I'm feeling a little more festive.

So much for parade fever

I overslept this morning and won't be making it down to the city in time for the St. Patrick's Day parade. I am so lame.

I will, however, still be heading into the city, so there will be merry making for all. More to come on that later...

Funny sign

Ah, warmth!

You may have noticed the lack of entries lately. It's because I've been in New Orleans, but I'll be catching a plane home in four hours and I'll update you on some happenings and funny stories. In the meantime I will report that it is super windy here and also warm. And if you wear a green dress, people will shout at you, "Hey Irish girl!" or sometimes "Hey Irish lady!" depending on if they're trying to be classy, I guess.

Potential entry for worst column ever written

We aren't running this, but one of our columnist submitted this as his column for the weekend. He's a Vassar College professor, who will remain nameless. I'll leave the rest for you to judge.


It’s always Easter. But at this time of year we actually talk about it, celebrate it.

Without contradicting any biblical account, I believe it’s useful to imagine the details of the first Easter morning differently than it’s usually depicted. Here’s what I mean:

As the blackness weakened in that hour before sunrise, Jesus suspected He wasn’t dead.

First, He noticed a gray halo of light slipping through the cracks between the cave in which he was entombed and the big rock blocking the entrance.

Then Jesus groaned, “My hands…. they hurt.” He also noticed His ankles ached and there was a throbbing pain in his left side.

When He was finally fully awake, He was still surprised. “Oh, the resurrection, it worked,” He thought. But Jesus was even more surprised at just how painful it was. During His lifetime it just never occurred to Him that the resurrection would hurt.

Now the practical problem: “How do I get the rock out of the way?,” He wondered. Jesus even smiled to Himself at the irony of rising from the dead only to die again of starvation if He couldn’t move that rock.

Avoiding his left side, Jesus slowly twisted Himself off the cold white marble slab, into a standing position. With swollen feet, He hobbled over to the entrance of the tomb.

He leaned against the rock, it didn’t move; He pushed, to no avail; He strained, without success.

Already sweating, He took a deep breath. As He let the air out, an angel appeared. Happy for the company and buoyed by the angel’s glistening garb, the task suddenly seemed less daunting

Working together, Jesus and the angel budged that big rock. “Good, good. That’s enough. I think I can make it through,” Jesus told the angel.

Then, standing straight and sucking in His stomach, Jesus shimmied His way out of the tomb and shuffled into a new dawn, a new civilization.

The advantage of this incarnation-laden account of Easter is how it reflects our deepest experience hope. Even if we have hope to the ultimate degree, all the way to resurrection, it’s always accompanied with struggle.

Of course this is true [here], like anywhere else in the world.

So if we’re homeless and seeking shelter with Hudson River Housing, or hungry and eating your one meal a day at the Lunchbox or depressed and seeking solace from the Mental Health Association our suffering doesn’t exclude hope, in fact, as Jesus shows us, it’s a condition for hope.

Weighing in on Spitzer

I don't think anyone is coming to Bucky's World for news of Spitzer, so instead I'll just share some inside anecdotes.

At about 1:55 p.m. the managing editor comes running (ok, really, it was more walking fast) to my desk and says, and I quote, "Sptizer. Prostitute. What's your plan?." The last line may have been "We need a plan." But I can't remember now. I look at him blankly and said, "What are you talking about? Is this a knock-knock joke?" He said, "No. It's the top update on the Web site." I look at our site, which is up on my computer and say, "I don't see it on our site. What are you talking about." Then he says in an even more frantic voice, "No. The New York TIMES Web site!" As if I was just supposed to guess that. Then for the next seven hours - including two meetings on the topic - my meager staff produced about 14 stories - four full inside pages, plus all but one slot on the cover. More than any other paper in New York State, including the New York Times. Today, the executive editor seemed to be thinking, "Okay, maybe she was right (talking about me, who, for once, was the voice of reason). This WAS a little overkill, as there was no actual resignation."

Now we, along with the rest of the state and national media, are on Spitzer resignation watch.

And this blog entry would not be complete without us giving some love to the New York Post, which once again through taste and ethics out the window when it with the following headline in today's paper (complete with the indefatigable slammer):

And to no one's surprise....

AP: Obama wins Mississippi primary

The Associated Press

JACKSON, Miss. — Barack Obama has coasted to victory in Mississippi’s Democratic presidential primary.

Tuesday’s contest was the latest in a string of racially polarized contests across the Deep South. It was also a final tune-up before next month’s high-stakes race with Hillary Rodham Clinton in Pennsylvania.

The Associated Press made its call based on surveys of voters as they left the polls.

Headline I never thought I'd see

Obama looks to Miss. for momentum

WASHINGTON - Barack Obama focused on Mississippi's primary for new momentum in his tight race with Hillary Rodham Clinton, as a consensus began to emerge about two states stripped of their delegates where do-over contests could weigh heavily in the fierce Democratic White House battle.

Obama was favored to win in Tuesday's nominating race in Mississippi, a southern state where blacks — who have carried him to wins previously — make up a majority of the Democratic voters. The first senator trounced Clinton in Saturday's Wyoming caucuses, rebounding from earlier setbacks in a win that allowed him to retain his all-important delegate lead in his quest to becoming the U.S.'s first black president.

No parade, but I am wearing green today

Well, my resolve to hit up every St. Patrick's Day parade possible didn't get me very far. I did not, as promised, go to the Staten Island parade today. There were a number of reasons this happened. 1) Boyfriend, not on the island this weekend. He's working and his job has him staying at a hotel near JFK. 2) High winds. Lots of water. 3) I was at work last night...well, technically this morning, until 12:15 a.m. Then we had to Spring Ahead, so I didn't wind up going to bed until 3 a.m. (Daylight Savings Time) and I got up at 11 a.m. Thus making it impossible to get to Staten Island for a noon parade.

Oh well, I suspect the other parades I have planned won't present me so much a problem. And I've already begun recruiting people to join me for Greek Independence Day.

Batesville, Miss.

Parade Fever

Speaking of Staten Island, its St. Patrick's Day parade is Sunday. I plan to be there, even if my boyfriend can't make it. (He is already starting in with the whole, "I may have to work" excuse — an oldie, but a favorite of his.) I also plan to attend the NYC parade, which falls on a Monday (along with the actual day).

This is a great year for parades...for me, at least. Everything is falling on the days I have off — Sunday and Monday. This includes the Greek Independence Day parade on April 6, a Sunday. I've decided that since I can't recruit any of my fiends (including the alleged boyfriend) into doing things with me, I'll just have to do them all by myself because there's too much to do to just be hanging out at home all the time.

That said, you are all welcome to come up and join me.

A good review of Staten Island (not mine)

Someone had something positive to say about the island, suggesting Manhattanites take the Staten Island ferry over and hit the restaurants on a nearby street. Sounds nice. I'll have to try them when the weather gets a little nicer. I'll have my own review come the spring.

Has the salt air made you feel a bit peckish? Is so, exit the ferry terminal and walk to Bay Avenue, Staten Island's picturesque corniche. Go three blocks left to Victory Boulevard, which is a hotbed of amazing eats.

Your choices include Trinidadian, Polish, Italian, Jamaican, and Sri Lankan, plus a half-dozen Mexican taquerias. I most recommend Island Roti Shop (65 Victory Boulevard), where you can get a mean goat or conch roti, and Taqueria El Gallo Azteca (75 Victory Boulevard), where you can scarf cemitas, the round Pueblan sandwiches. My fave is milanesa, made with a pounded and fried beef cutlet and fiery sundried chipotle peppers.

New Jersey Transit

Had my first experience with public transportation in New Jersey today. I took the train from Newark airport into the city and was surprised at how easy it was to use. The ticketing process was simple and it took no time at all to get from the airport to Penn Station (New York).

I also learned there was a Penn Station Newark. That is a little confusing. Anyone know why there are two Penn Stations in such close proximity? There was at least one guy that wasn't paying attention and got off in New Jersey when he was headed to New York. Then again, he also tried to get off at the airport where I got on, not realizing it was NOT NYC, so I think maybe he just has some serious confusion issues going on.

Actually, so far getting to Newark rates WAY higher on the ease and quickness scale than getting to JFK via public transportation. I haven't yet tried to get to LaGuardia, but I've mapped it out in case I ever have to. It involves a bus and I'm pretty leery of those as I have a fundamental inability to understand their routes. But a bus with a giant sign that says "To LaGuardia airport" pulls right up to the Harlem/125th Street Metro North stop, so I'm confident I can get TO the airport. I'm just not so confident I could get back...you know without calling up TomClancy and saying, "Come get me at the airport. I have no idea where these buses go!"