Mark L. Feinsod

If I have a flaw of any kind, it's that I'm far too modest for somebody as great as I am.  It's really a serious problem.  And since it seems selfish not to share that wonderfulness as much as is humanly possible, I'm forever trying to surround other people with my glorious presence so that they can learn from me.  So that I can help others help themselves.

This is not always so easy.

One thing I was told when I first moved to New York is that I'd never be lonely.  Friends from other parts of the world would always stay in touch, because everybody comes to New York and everybody always wants a free place to stay when they're here.  Fair enough.  I have no problem with that.  I'm very social, and since I'm likeable and ridiculously charming I have a ton of friends.

But lately, I've been wondering if I have some sort of invisible version of a Kick Me sign on my back.  Or one that says ignore me.

Case in point: this past Tuesday, I was supposed to have dinner with a friend of mine.  A few days before, I hit her up on Gchat to ask if we were still on.  No response.  The day before, I did the same.  Nothing.  So, I made other plans.  Then, on Tuesday night, her Facebook status said she was hanging out in Hoboken.

I'm OK with not having met, because I'm not sure I have anything to say to anybody who would willingly go to Hoboken.  But still.  Whatever happened to manners?

Then, this past weekend, I was trying to meet up with some old friends, one of whom I haven't seen in over a decade.  Unfortunately, they decided to get together at 11:00 p.m. on Friday.  And since I'm no longer in high school, this was a little late for me.  Though I was willing to try to stick it out.  So, I made plans with one of the people involved.  We would have dinner, then head down to the bar.  But this person backed out, saying she was too tired.  Not wanting to aimlessly wander in Manhattan for five hours, I went home.  I knew if I returned to Brooklyn, there was no way I was heading back into Manhattan.  So I just called it an early night.

Then the next day, photos of the bar crawl appeared on Facebook.  It looked like everyone had a great time.  Including my friend who'd said she wasn't going, and had canceled dinner.  And I never got to see my friend who I hadn't hung out with in a decade because, even though we had plans to meet for lunch on Saturday, he just simply never responded to my text message trying to figure out where to meet.

The only real moral of the story here is that I feel sorry for people who don't get to hang out with me.  But you can't make other folks' decisions for them.

***********

In this week's episode of the podcast, two important subjects are discussed: the glories of Brooklyn during the summer, and the beauty of New York's female population.  You can stream the show here or on SelfAbsorbed.me, and subscribe in iTunes.

As always, please help to spread the word by telling a few friends about the show.

And it'd be great if you could write a review and rate us in iTunes.

Otherwise, the women of New York will be enraged and wonder why you couldn't be bothered to help promote an installment devoted to them.  And since there are approximately 4 million females living in New York, that's a lot of enemies to make when you don't have to.

Happy listening.

I hope everybody had a great Mother's Day.  If you are single and childless and just marking time until you die alone, forgotten and unloved by your distant relatives, I hope you called your mother.  If you are unfortunate enough to be cursed with children, I hope your significant other or somebody who cares about you was at least thoughtful enough to take your offspring to a local mall, and pretend to lose them so that you could enjoy your day.  And the rest of 2010.

My mother was lucky enough to get to see me on both days this past weekend.  On Saturday, we had a family event that involved me getting lost in the Trenton area.  Which, if you've ever been there, you know is not very nice.  To put it mildly.  At one point, I saw numerous cop cars in the parking lot of a KFC as about twenty policemen arrested some guy who was handcuffed and leaning against a police car.  It seemed like overkill to me to have that many cops present to arrest one guy, but Journey's Don't Stop Believin' had just come on the radio and that piano intro is just so inspiring.  So I kept on driving.

On Sunday, I bought my mother a very expensive bouquet at an extremely fancy florist shop in Williamsburg.  I told the woman who was helping me to put something together for about $15 to $20, and she created a lovely bouquet of pink roses and some other things.  She assured me that my mother would love it.

She won't be sorry she had me, I said.

The woman looked me up and down.

I wouldn't bet on that, she replied.

***********

The latest edition of How to Do Nothing without Really Trying is now up.  You can listen to it either here or at Self Absorbed and subscribe in iTunes.  As always, we appreciate your support.  And please help to spread the word.  And write a review and rate us in iTunes, if you'd be so kind.

Actually, today's installment of the podcast isn't showing up in iTunes just yet, and I'm hoping it's simply a question it being late to update.  With any luck, the current show will appear tonight when I get home.

Otherwise, I'll probably have to roofie myself just so I can get to sleep tonight.