Hi Ho Sailors!: A Bronx Tale in Photos

Unemployment: Day 81 in Business Days; Day 113 in Human Days

It's been 7 hours and 113 days...since they took my job away.

Since I'm not sporting a gym membership these days and I happen to have cute new little running shorts, I decided to try to find the Maritime College campus that was supposedly 10 minutes away from G-ma's house, according to Great Uncle Nick who lives downstairs.  If I've gotta live up in da Bronx and put much of my Manhattan social life on hold, why not cougar it up and try to find me a hot, young, local sailor?  However, according to a conversation with friends the other night, I'm actually not a Cougar, but rather a Puma, because I'm young-ish and don't have any money.   I can dig that.  And seriously, all the older men I date have the maturity of infants, so why not at least find one who still has all his hair and a six pack? 

There have got to be plenty of these young Navy fellas looking to earn an extra stripe.  Are stripes what sailors earn?  Do you dare me to find out?    

Why do people in da Bronx with minuscule backyards insist on having a gazebo?  You live in da Bronx.  Your gazebo won't give you a Westchester zip code.  Schmucks.

Welcome to the Maritime Academy!  Welcome, indeed.

Navy?  Yes, please!

Which way to the sailors?  Only one way!

There's my pretty track, right on the water.

Pretty, pretty water.  I'm just gonna lean over to get a better look at ya.  Oh, please, help me!  I've fallen over the thick metal barricade and over all of those rocks and into the water that's two feet deep!  Somebody in uniform please come to my rescue!  My shadow is ready for sailors, too.  
Da Throg's Neck bridge, yo.

Gosh, can you even believe I'm still in the Bronx?  I wish this blog had a scratch 'n sniff option, cause this is the smell of heaven.

This is where I should be hanging out.  If I'm going to Puma it up with someone 10 years my junior, he should at least be 1st Class. 

Hmmm.  A whale.  Is it mechanical?  I'll ride that mechanical whale.

The President's house.  I wonder if there's a First Lady...

Do you think if I pitched a tent in the fort they would charge me rent?

A ship!  I must be getting close!

I'm in the parking lot now.  Taking a picture of a cadet's car.  Living on the edge.  Cause dat's how we roll up in da Bronx.  East side, yo.  "For God, For Country, For Freedom"...For Me!

Look really closely.  No, not all of you at once!  Jeez!  Okay, one at a time.  See them?  See? Playing volleyball on a sand court way up in the distance?  We're getting close!

Ooh ooh!  There's one!  Running way up ahead of me.  Can you see him?  Way way ahead?  Shit, he's too fast.  I thought I was supposed to be a freaking Puma!  What the frak?!  I'm sure I look totally normal...trying to run fast enough to catch up to my prey while holding a camera in front of my face and adjusting the zoom lens.  A vision of hotness indeed.  Puma it up, girlfriend!  Live the dream!

The sun is going to set soon, so alas, it's over the Throg's Neck and through da hood to grandmother's house I go.  No sailor contact made today, but still a successful scouting mission.  I think I'll go running tomorrow!

THE END

Jobless City Challenge:  Get exercise with no gym membership.  Find young man who doesn't come from an interweb dating site.  Explore new territory.  Smell the ocean.

Dollars Saved:  $96 (the cost of one month's membership at New York Sports Club)