Gems from Central New York

The New York Times was late this morning. I would usually be disgruntled that my treasured paper-reading time had been compromised by the inadequate and unreliable university delivery system, but today is different. I had the enormous pleasure of reading Syracuse's very own "The Post-Standard." It calls itself "America's most colorful newspaper." Well, colorful it is indeed.

I bring you these diamonds:

Teen-ager shot in park on Syracuse's West Side
A Syracuse teen-ager was shot in the thigh Sunday afternoon across the street from Skiddy Park on the city's west side.

The victim was uncooperative and would not tell officers his name, Sgt. Thomas Connellan said. The youth was taken to University Hospital for treatment. Connellan said the injury was not life-threatening.

The shooting is under investigation.

Um... does anyone else think they should have included the phrase "shot by police" in that lead. Note to self: always tell the Syracuse Police Department your name the first time they ask. It is not appropriate to respond with The Zombies lyrics or the perennial elementary school favorite "I know you are but what am I?"

Also:

Man grabs cash, takes off

Syracuse police offers say a grab-and-run robber clutched more than his loot while scurrying away from the Family Dollar store, 945 S. Salina St., Friday evening.

A cashier said the man, wearing a Yankees cap and sunglasses, waited patiently in line for several minutes, while other customers went through the check-out process. When his time came, he purchased one Chap-Stick Lip Balm applicator.

He reached for his money, then abruptly lunged across the counter to grab bills from the cash register. The move so startled the cashier that she told police later that she thought the man was joking, at first.

He grabbed several piles of bills, then toddled quickly for the door, hands gripping not only the money but his britches.

Um. 1) I love the level of detail in this story. Nice that he chose Chap-Stick. It's important for robbers to have soft lips. 2) Under what circumstance would you think someone lunging at you to grab money from a cash register was a joke? You're in Syracuse! 3) I want to give this writer the Pulitzer for the bolded sentence. 4) I hereby decree that we bring back the word "britches."

In related news, I have been putting off buying a belt for about three years now. I just can never find one that fits around my waist appropriately, or is an agreeable width for the majority of belt loops in my pants. But more than ever, I know now that I must buy one pronto. I don't want to be caught desperately clutching my pantaloons next time I burglarize Walgreen's.

I miss the FedEx man.

The UPS man officially has no sense of humor. He arrived this morning carrying a menagerie of different-sized boxes. The most notable was a long box, nearly up to my waist and about 7-inches wide.

"Oh! You finally brought my pogo stick!" I exclaimed merrily, wrongfully thinking a joke might break up the monotony of delivering packages to unenthused desk attendants.

He smirks, the slightest of responses to avoid being completely rude.

"I am simply jumping with excitement...." I say tentatively. "Bouncing with bliss...?"

He stares coldly. "Would you please just sign for these, mam?"

Okay, yes sir. Sorry sir. Didn't mean it. Have a good day. Sorry. It's not really a pogo stick. Just joking. Not funny. Don't hate me.

Will you judge me if I tell you

... That I am oddly charmed by the fact Netflix e-mailed me to say that they were going to ship my movie from Lansing, MI instead of my local sorting facility? It reads as if they are cowering in a corner, hoping I don't slap them across the face if my DVD takes an extra day or two to get here. As if they are saying, "It's no Syracuse, but Lansing gets the job done too!" And then they collectively whimper and nervously shuffle through a pile of papers until they find a good movie to recommend to me.

It's okay, Netflix. I have no urgent need for my Felicity Season 1: Disc 3. Life goes on.

Ray, a drop of golden sun.

This dear fellow and two of his friends stopped by three times for a jaunt through our yard today. My mother promptly declared the triumvirate "too skinny," and rummaged for food to give them. I gave her a lecture about setting limits for her maternal instincts. She said she would get rid of the stale bread and potato skins, but I later saw her scattering them outside anyway.

Why oh Wyoming

It’s internship season. Many college students look at this as a time filled with anxiety, self-doubt, frustration, and fear and, oh, blinding anger at the Establishment. I’ve already spent countless hours researching companies, re-reading my resume and desperately searching for an updated HR contact to whom my cover letter should be addressed.

You’d think this was some marathon exercise that would end in my appointment as the CEO of a billion-dollar company. Alas, this is the process that we go through in order to secure an UNPAID INTERNSHIP. That’s right. Internships offer no guarantees; they may or may not be a learning experience, but almost certainly will not result in a pay check of any kind. It will, however, most likely result in headaches, humiliation and coffee runs at some point or another.

So I’m rebelling. I started thinking about what I really want to do, what kind of writing really compels, inspires and delights me. I concluded that these things are usually blogs. I am addicted to several blogs written by complete strangers, and I read them religiously. I have developed a tendency worry about the author’s personal struggles more than my own.

The hilariousness of applying for an “internship” with an independent blogger tickles my funny bone, because, well, let’s really consider what we’re asking…

The following is a hypothetical cover letter to the writer one of my newest infatuations, The Daily Coyote.

Dear Shreve Stockton

I have a proposition. I am a devoted reader of your blog and would be thrilled to intern with you this summer. My research indicates there is no established internship program at The Daily Coyote, but I am confident that my blog-reading and stalker skills would urge you to consider taking me on as an intern.

I believe in your company, and would be happy to offer my time and labor to aid its further development. Granted, you live in rural Wyoming, miles away from civilization. This would require a leap of faith on your part—to take me on not only as an intern but also a houseguest. In fact, I am propositioning you as much for friendship as for a job opportunity. I am clean, make a good cup of coffee, and would be happy to help with taking care of your coyote.

I’ve attached a resumé and writing samples. I would be delighted to hear from you. Please don’t hesitate to contact me with any questions.

Sincerely

Catherine