Can you believe it? Michael Phelps has a record nineteen Olympic medals and now that it’s August it’s been over four months since I first tackled the scintillating topic of tree bagging. For those of you unfamiliar with the illustrious pastime of tree bagging, that’s when you’re out meandering, your mind is elsewhere, possibly veering in the direction of strenuous wanton sex, sinfully decadent foodstuffs, or you’re wondering if that 2-for-1 sale on nasal decongestant is still happening. Then you look up and notice the phenomenon of shopping bags nestled in tree branches. If you reside on the Upper West Side like me you focus specifically on one multitasking tree on your block that doubles as a trash receptacle with branches.
That’s the tree in March.
Back in late March the bags in that tree looked like this.
Bags in tree.
Go ahead, take a closer look.
Now, more than four months later, I have reason to report on the State of the Tree Bags. I had just finished doing two loads of laundry after work but before dinner. I was feeling hungry for my salad; the only dinner I have eaten almost every day in summer because I do not intend to use my stove again until fall. There were days in June and July that were so sweltering inside my un-air-conditioned hovel that I could have easily fried an egg on my bathroom floor, not to imply that that was actually on my “to do” list. I’ll be the first to admit that greasing one’s bathroom floor is not such a genius idea. Besides, I’m certainly not going to eat that egg. Ew.
So there I was, deep in shallow thought while walking back to my sanctum sanctorum, carrying my bag of freshly done laundry. It had been a long and busy day at The Grind. The soles of my feet were aching. I was thinking:
Me (thinking): Why are my feet aching? Now what, do I have gout? Doesn’t that only afflict old guys? Or am I the one woman in the entire universe that’s screwed with this curse? Can I ever get cut a single solitary break or is my entire life a constant disaster? What is this going to cost me aside from epic humiliation? I can hear my dad right now, “How the hell did you get gout? I know guys in the mall with it. Gals aren’t supposed to get that.” It would probably behoove me to exclude mentioning this in the “objective” category on my resume, or maybe it would show character and pith? “Got gout. Hire me.” Hm, it does have an original ring to it.
I glance up at that tree’s branches.
Same tree more than four months later.
Then, focus my gaze and access my inner zoom lens.
Closing in …
Close-up.
I thought:
Me (thinking): Wow! That Fairway bag is still there! It’s survived so many elements, the heat, the humidity, several rainstorms, even The Hunger Games entire run at my neighborhood multiplex. Remarkable! Am I almost out of balsamic? I wonder when I’ll next get laid? What happened to the second bag?
“I’m right here!”
V,
As funny as your post was, and may I say the “Me (thinking)” is rather clever… Can you explain to me the phenomenon of tree bagging? Really, is it a New York thing? I’m not kidding, I want to know… Madame Weebles, any thought?
Le Clown
You know how in the UK they have Trainspotting? New Yorkers have tree bagging. You know, we get bored with all the fancy restaurants, opera, ballet, theater, and all the other crap NY has to offer. So tree bagging is our thing. There are competitions with other cities, and you’d think cities with more trees would have the edge, but no. New Yorkers can fling bags further, longer, faster.
You said it MW! We’re New York — #1 with the Yankees, #1 with tube sausage, #1 with bagels and #1 with the tree bagging!
I heart you, LA.
Ditto MW.
Le Clown, as you can see our mutual friend and my fellow Jaded New Yorker, Mme. Weebles, has written the definitive definition of tree bagging that Webster’s is now considering. As for the term itself that was coined by my dear wordsmith friend Milton, the king of pith.
V and Madame Weebles,
I thank you both for introducing me to the fine art of tree bagging. Then again, I’m sourly disappointed that Woody Allen never showed that part of New York. I guess the bags are too old and too worn out for him.
Le Clown
Maybe the Woodman has yet to feature tree bagging? He’s only pushing 77 and easily has another 15 films in him the way he cranks them out.
V,
…this year alone. Oh how I miss his Annie Hall days…
Le Clown
Manhattan is the one that motivated me to move across the country. Although I did notice the second I found my nest over here that there were no fireworks over the Hudson nor was Rhapsody in Blue playing to announce my arrival. I seem to recall hearing sirens and horns honking … But I do live five or six doors down from where Gershwin resided (and may have written many of his masterpieces). That’s cool.
V,
Perhaps you were looking for the Gordon Willis black and white Manhattan, which I don’t blame you… As for living close to where Gershwin did, now that I like.
I once visited a New York jazz man (Dave Binney) in his small apartment in Irving Bernstein’s old house. Does it count for something?
Le Clown
Irving Bernstein? Is that a hybrid of Irving Berlin and Leonard Bernstein? If not, sure, Irving Bernstein works for me. He sounds like a real deal New Yorker. I may have even dated his daughter about 20-odd years ago. She had a great rack and tried to teach me how to swing a golf club.
Thanks for the bag update. Squirrels are GREAT at tying knots.
They are intrepid little creatures with those opposable claws!
Thumbs? We don’t need no steenking thumbs.
“We tie bags with our teeth.”
Although a few lucky squirrels have mates who can tie them with their tongues. Cherry stems anyone?
That comment leaves me tongue-tied.
You’re welcome.
Oh my lord, LA, you nailed this. I never did understand the bags in the trees, or the sneakers over the power lines or lampposts.
Good thing this site is your #1 source for clarity of all things foolish and mundane!
Has it been 4 MONTHS!! Egads… how time flies/swims when we’re all having such a *&^%ing good time. And those bags…we may need to alert the media (or have we already done this?). Seems like I’ve seen some bags here too in faraway Tx….has the secret service, MI5 and the Homeland Security been informed? And Phelps…I guess maybe he’s hoping there will be no more photos of him passing around a Bong but
give him credit where credit is due. Congrats Phelps!! The Young are so amazing with what they can do, or get away with.
I like the idea of time swimming on this site Jim. Excellent contribution!
While we may be over the “heat hump” I’ve seen August pack some mean stuff before. I don’t know what the nature of your situation is exactly, but they DO make some very good, very energy efficient window ACs that only draw about 450 watts. That’s not enough to do a whole large apartment, but it certainly makes a room or two quite livable even in the worst conditions. I did some research on them about a month ago when I was afraid mine might give up the ghost and this model seemed to be both the best price (159) and the highest EER (11).
It’s not worth “toughing it out”: you end up losing so much in the way of efficiency that you’re far better off running a small AC.
- MJM
Whoops! LOL! Forgot to put in the link!
http://www.consumerreports.org/cro/appliances/heating-cooling-and-air/air-conditioners/air-conditioner-ratings/models/overview/kenmore-70051-99030410.htm
MJM
Michael, you’re a gem, but the problem is not just lacking an A/C. The bigger problem is the claim that if I got one, my garret would need to be rewired for it would blow out the fuse on my floor. The skeptic in me (that consumes 98.9% of my being) doesn’t buy that, but the people that manage my building are not turds; I’ve always felt that they’ve been straight with me. I saw an A/C I wanted to purchase in May. I talked to them about it and they said, “Don’t.” Also … during the Coolidge administration when I signed my lease, the building wasn’t wired for A/C then. I had to sign an agreement promising that I’d never buy one. Technically, if I violated that agreement it could be grounds for eviction, but they also don’t want to rewire it. They tend to rewire only when they gut renovate. Good luck finding another hovel in my tony neighborhood at the rent I pay. Ten months of the year it’s an otherwise very comfy space.
I got onto your posts due to you writing something about a drain cleaner-now my AC tip is buy a small freezer and put a table fan in it-like rednecks do -PS-leave the door open!!!
Thanks for the advice George but my freezer is so minimalist it can barely freeze an entire tray of ice cubes.
Tree bagging? Ok … this is a new one for this sheltered Ohioan. So I Google it … on Images no less … and bam … Yours is the first image provided and another one close by! Meanwhile, good luck with dealing with the heat … and remember limoncello.
From snarky blogger to reigning Google Images queen for her exposé on tree bagging, our LA woman is seriously going places. Anyone know the weblog equivalent of a Pulitzer?
Or at least a Darwin award Mike!
I am thinking about a new kicker for your Blog Header: Lame Adventures: A Humor Blog, Thinning out the Herd One Moron at a Time
Ha! I like that, but hey, wouldn’t I be the first moron I thin out?
Well, you know you better than the rest of us do, but I think if you take a critical eye to your fellow subway passengers, for example, you’d see that you’re safe for at least a few millennia. Okay, maybe until next Tuesday.
Okay, I made the change. I’m paying you for your stellar input exactly what I make off this site.
Sweet.
You’re on the road to getting rich slow.
…yeah,in the breakdown lane changing a flat while an 18 wheeler comes careening down the hill, its driver amped up on No-Doz and Red Bull. Time to say goodnight Gracie. .
Or, “Holy crap, I’m roadkill!”
Since the only thing one can successfully make in my hovel is sweat, I’m on my buddy Coco’s back to make the limoncello. Hopefully, it will happen this month. Wow, you’re right about my tree bagging image being #1 on Google’s image search. That’s hilarious! Thanks for thinking to look it up!
Just a thing that I can recall when I think “I remember when …” Meanwhile, tell Coco the hard part is finding the right jar, then it’s extra easy.
We have discussed that jar! She’s pretty sure she knows where to find one on the Lower East Side.
Sounds like she needs a swift kick to get her going.
I don’t think so … She operates on Coco time.
Say it ain’t so because right now it’s no limoncello. (Hey that rhymes)
I’ll leave a lemon on her desk at The Grind as motivation.
Good idea!
Okay, sorry I’m late getting here. It’s been a CRAZY week. Who would have ever guessed those bags could still be there?! I think those things will have a longer life than the ancient cockroach! Damn!
Hugs,
Kathy
I think they might outlast me! I hope your week has been good crazy and not the Mad Hatter kind.
Okay. Way too much time on my hands this morning on the NJ Transit train from Glen Ridge to Hoboken. My fetid brain in bouncing around my head like the aforementioned 18 wheeler. Fretting about 20 year old son who’s a week away from beginning his junior year at the original USC with apparently no more of a clue what his life holds for him than he did in 2010 when he first headed south. Next I became somewhat depressed about what I fear will be a lightly attended fund raiser tomorrow morning at a Newark drug and alcohol rehab center where I was recently added to its board.
So what does this mini funk lead me to? Bags hanging in trees. I have not read the article yet but some lame ass (not you dear LA Woman) did something akin to a retrospective in The New Yorker back on January 12, 2004. What had been the highlight of my afternoon yesterday, your place among the Google elite, has been replaced with realization that we’re just plowing anew that earth which has yielded more fruit and at more tangible remuneration.
Maybe you need to get a tattoo like my bud Tas did: http://wp.me/p1AdFD-7V
Those are hardy plastic bags. Or one of them is. What could have happened to the other?
A friend managed to get a pair of pants (what do you call them – underwear? briefs?) Into the top of a very tall tree on an exuberant night out. They, too, proved they could stay the course,and for the three-year length of their degree course, every now and then, they would take the double decker bus to salute the tree pants on their own level. Trees don’t like giving up their Stuff.
As an amateur bagologist, I think the Fairway bag is made of tougher plastic and the white one was not. Hence, hanging out in the elements for four-plus months resulted in one bag being more battered than the other. I have had many an exuberant night out myself, but I don’t recall ever pantsing a tree, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that crosses the pond. That’s very true about trees not giving up their Stuff. Approximately 20 years ago, the tree outside my window had a towel hanging off a branch for at least a year. I got to see it morph over time from white to a more latte color. Then, one day it was gone. Since it was impossible to reach it must have fallen off. Maybe it was weighed down with the elements?
In South Africa you get whole little villages covered in plastic bags…absolutely aweful!!!
Gee, I now feel blessed to only have two bags nestled in one tree on my block.
Being from California I hadn’t heard of this tree bagging scenario but I love your whole thought process while explaining it … “strenuous wanton sex, sinfully decadent foodstuffs, or you’re wondering if that 2-for-1 sale on nasal decongestant is still happening.” I’m all about nasal decongestant
Breathing freely is habit forming, isn’t it Guat?
Pingback: Trust Le Clown – Lame Adventures | A Clown On Fire
Found you through Le Clown. Loved this post. When I need to put on a new roof, I’m going to use plastic bags because that sh*t lasts.
Any chance you built your house in a tree? Thanks for visiting S7!
Why hasn’t the mayor declared a tree bagging day, a day when New Yorkers have to clean it up? They could celebrate by not having a 48 ounce Big Gulp at 7 Eleven? Unless he thinks those bags are a work of art? Hey, I know how to get ‘em down… Put a cash prize in one of them, let everyone know, and watch those bags come down.
I think I should be Mayor with ideas like this, right?
You wanna handle this one…?
Oh please, put you shy side away and take over.
Yesterday, getting vibrators off the street was his priority, so it seems that removing the bags in trees are low on his list. I think that your cash prize idea is brilliant! Filling that one special bag with the big bucks would motivate this entire town. Now if only you could figure out how to hide change under all the gum staining the sidewalk? You could run as the mayoral candidate that will really clean up the city. You’ve got my vote!
Or some loose change in the vibrators. Sort of like the corollary to the gold lined diaphragm.
Comforting to know that the wheels in your head are always reliably turning when the topic is quality of life-related.
I am still relatively new to the site (started following in February) so I am not sure where the line between simply bad taste and downright unconscionable begins and ends, so I didn’t finish the, ahem, joke.
You’re such a gentleman.
Madam you nearly make me blush.
Thanks, LA, I’m emailing my mayoral application today!
New York will suffer if it gets caught in a spam filter!
Le Clown sent me here. What a crack-up you are!
I’m flattered that you think that Robin. When I wear my swim fins on the subway at rush hour my fellow commuters just think I’m another attention-seeking jerk. Mais oui, viva Le Clown!
Hi there. First of all, let me say that Le Clown sent me over here so if I cause any trouble, you can blame him. I have actually seen this phenomenon you speak of. Our trees are french speaking though. Uppity french speaking bagging trees.
So your trees say things like, “Sacre bleu!” Over here, ours say, “Fuhgeddaboudit!” Cause as much trouble as you like here!
No, I’m afraid our trees are not so polite…but your comment made me laugh! Your trees speak gangster? And thanks for the open invitation to cause trouble…although you may be sorry.
Noticing a definite trend from readers of Le Clown’s blog. They all claim to be, yet apologize for, their proclivity to cause trouble. Just WTF is going on up in Canada, anyway?
Gun control.
Bride works for a Canadian company. Says her worst Canadian client is nicer than any American client. Just too damned polite, I say.
They probably have a normal BMI, too.
I can’t speak for other members of Le Clown’s Posse, but he and I are both Quebecers, which means we are bilingual AND stark raving mad.
I’ve read his posts here. I see your point. Welcome aboard the lunacy express!
Why thank you Mike.
Yeah, but since you guys can’t access guns with as much ease as buying a pair of socks, everyone pretty much gets along.
I would think that getting along would be even more important in YOUR country. If I knew my neighbor was carrying, I would never let my dog crap on his lawn.
Or yourself, for that matter.
If I knew my neighbor was carrying, I’d move. Actually, I once did have a neighbor that had a visitor packing heat. It was a member of the mob. That’s a vintage Lame Adventure too long to tell here, but I did move. Fast. I moved under my platform bed.
Lucky for you it wasn’t a futon.
The futon was on the platform.
I stand corrected.
An American that’s afraid of guns? I never knew there was such a thing.
I’m an oxymoron a.k.a. an eight-sided idiot.
lmao…that’s hilarious! You are quite witty and charming and I just might have to follow your blog.
Oh, do so. It’s a one way ticket to Stupid-ville, USA sponsored by Acme brand spring shoes.
Our trees don’t speak gangster; they tawk like real Noo Yawkers.
Not unlike the gecko on the Brooklyn bridge?
That annoying Cockney-voiced twerp?
Just when he. Tries to do a NY accent. I wonder if it is supposed to be bad on purpose. I guess a fake Brit doing a fake Brooklynite. Sounds about right. Thank god they weren’t trying for Queens. You know what I think about that boro.
If he took on your home town, you would have personally made sure they brought back the cave man. I really, really, really hate that lizard.
Ooops…my bad….big fan of The Sopranos.
They filmed a few scenes in my neighborhood in NJ. Big fan here as well.
I loved the Sopranos! I think the band that sang the “Woke up this morning” theme song is Scottish. Hey, Mike, do you know?
Have the cd around someplace. Their band name conflicted with another In the US. Think maybe Alabama3
I think our Alabama was one of those American bands that whenever their songs came on the radio, I’d race across the room to change the station.
They used to play all the time but now, I think they only play after midnight on certain nights. I love the theme song also.
Alabama or Alabama 3?
You forget where I am? It’s either A&E or Bravo. Canadian satellite. The only thing I watch on Alabama is Deliverance. Love that banjo.
My affinity for self-preservation must have played a part in why I’ve never seen that film in its entirety, but I liked Dueling Banjos, too. I think I might have heard two guys in college try to play it on the spoons, but they sucked.
You should rent the movie…it’s a classic.
But remember that the words, “boy, you’ve got a pretty mouth” will never sound or feel the same again.
hehehe…I LOVE that! Squeal like a pig…..
My dear Wendy you are one twisted little puppy! Sweet.
You have no idea.
I was afraid that would be your response.
Fear not, I don’t bite. Unless you ask me really nicely.
Okay so that’s the direction you’re going in…
in…out…repeat if necessary
I’d say about 2 more times and I’m done. Say goodnight Gracie.
Goodnight Gracie.
Time to take the evening bath. Now where did I put that bubble bath?
I’m not around for a day and you kids are just running amuck!
She started it.
Don’t know many men who take baths, let alone put bubbles in it.
I was moved by your literature.
Oh you were, huh? Glad to hear it.
Oh yeah.
Writing a second volume now, but it’s moving really slowly because of my novel.
Good luck on that project. I can see how writing the short stories could get distracting!
Not use I’d use the word “distracting”….when I write erotica, I have to take many breaks… ;-P
If I were doing the writing, by the 3rd “break” I’d probably have to quit for the day. Also likely to have to consult with a neurologist for the carpal tunnel syndrome that I’d be developing.
Carpal tunnel…from the writing or from the breaks?
My vote’s with the latter.
Thanks Carnak.
You’re welcome Ed.
lol…mine too.
Breaks. It’s a guy thing.
Uh….I don’t think so. How do you think I spend my “breaks” ?
Thought it all came down to differences in kinesiology. Indulge me this clumsy analogy. For instance, on my daughters’ high school softball team the pitcher threw every inning of every game this past season. That was about 140 innings over a 9 week period. No way a boy could pitch baseball 4 games in a week.
However, I will defer to your own experiences and whether carpel tunnel is even a remote possibility.
Isn’t a softball thrown differently than a baseball? With a baseball aren’t pitchers more subject to torn rotator cuffs and bone spurs in the elbow? What injuries do softball pitchers suffer? Wounded pride since baseball collects all the big bucks?
That’s where I was headed with the kinesiology analogy. Yes pitching a softball is a more natural motion than throwing a baseball overhanded. No similar injuries that I’m aware of in the systemic sense. Just need to ice after throwing. Kid #2′ daughter #1, was gonna be the main starter 2 years ago before Tara came in a year behind her. My kid quit pitching the first day of practice her sophomore year! Tara is 6 inches taller, weighs 40 pounds more and throws in the mid 60s (which is VERY fast for NJ HS pitchers.
Who’s kid is Tara? Are you also a member of the King Family with their endless progeny?
Tara is not my kid. She is a classmate of my youngest. Both my girls and Tara have been playing together for years. Thought my older would pitch some the last 2 years, but Tara finally learned to harness speed and develop secondary pitches. It’s all good, though. My kid enjoys playing behind her at 2nd and SS.
Your kid will probably have full use of her arm until she buys her rainbow at age 102.
A teenage boy and a woman in her prime are both susceptible to CTS.
Thank you for supplying the downbeat Wendy. Now my arm is aching. Wait, there’s a silver lining for me. I saw my prime shoot past in the rearview mirror fifteen years ago. Phew!
I’m confused. Your arm is aching but you are 15 years past your prime? You can’t possibly be….help an idiot out here.
It instantly healed when I re-read that “a woman in her prime” is susceptible to CTS. I was just initially seduced by the power of suggestion.
Holy shit….would that work with anything I say? Cause I’m thinking that a woman your age might profit from robbing a bank and sending me the money…hehehe
Your power of suggestion just blew a fuse over here.
I have the POWER!! *shakes fist at the heavens*
Take a step back there Wonderwoman. LA woman has archaic wiring in her garret. Any idea over 65 watts is liable to blow a fuse on the UWS.
Doing what all writers do, procrastinate?
That’s 3 more letters than I thought. But the words do rhyme!
Is that what the kids are calling it today?
Make it easier on yourself. Just throw a shoe at it. Faster.
At the radio or the mobster with the gun pointed right at the shared wall opposite my bed?
Radio. Never throw a shoe at anyone witha gun. Just ask any Egyptian.
Or Dubya. Thanks for the reminder key source of factoids.