Every woman’s wedding ring here is the size of my house key.
If marijuana was taxed in NYC alone, we would cut our national debt in half.
Staring out of my work window to David Beckham’s crotch and a naked woman’s ass inspires me for Bieber’s fragrance account.
I’m slowly developing whiplash because another Jill sits on the other side of my divider.
My coworkers are all mature, responsible adults whose inside jokes do not revolve around poop or drunken conversations.
It makes your day when your old boss makes you famous, tweeting to her thousands of followers about how she didn’t receive a thank-you card from her previous intern.
Seeing a couple have everything but intercourse next to you on the subway ruins your entire morning commute.
Getting locked in your apartment keeps your survival skills in check.
It only takes New Yorkers two days to key the entire length of your Canadian housemate’s Mercedes. Someone doesn’t like hockey….
NYPD can break five laws to ticket you for violating one.
The cinema will never be the same.
Nothing’s more shocking than the moment you realize college didn’t teach you anything pertaining to your job.
My boss is full of amazing quotes, like this one: “Fear is just the smell when ignorance takes a shit.”
Opening your first paycheck after four months of working for free makes you cry hysterically at your desk as your coworkers laugh. It led me to calculate how much I made per hour over the past four months, and then I laughed so hard I continued to cry.
Turns out that the dirty hippie boyfriend of the woman I didn’t talk to in Soho three months ago is KBS+P’s chief innovations officer, aka tech nerd. Another reason to show how life likes to foreshadow itself for me. What can I say, it’s a small city!