One aspect of living in New York is that you barely know your neighbors. Sure, I smile and say hi, but everyone is busy with their's not like we're all hanging out in front of the building...people are rushing in, rushing out. Also, it's not I have all that much in common with my neighbors (except I love the S's golden retriever Mozart), since most are married with families and I'm the girl who sings to herself in the elevator. Or the girl who has a hoodie with a weird name on it.

Well, today in the elevator, I had my keys out (ready, so I can dash into my apartment and watch TV) and a neighbor pointed to them, specifically the Buttercup head, and asked what that was. I said, "It's a Powerpuff Girl head, but the body fell off." She smiled and told me that she too had a keychain charm like my St. Louis one, but it had her name, not Jennifer. Cool. Then her mom asked me, "You like the Powerpuff Girls?" "Do I ever!" I said. Yes, as it turns out, I am exactly like an 8 year old girl. As the family got off, I heard the mom say to the daughter, "That's cool, isn't it?" Yes, I am to 8 year-old girls! Well, I have to start my fan base somewhere.