Warning: There are no pictures of cats in this post

So I've been here for two weeks, this is what I've noticed;

1. Duane Reades EVERYWHERE

For those of you who don’t speak New York, Duane Reade is French for snotty east coast Walgreens. Ok, to be honest it’s not that snotty — you can only be so high and mighty while selling band aids next to adult diapers, but I digress. The point is: Duane Reades, they are everywhere.

2. Hilarious guys at every Duane Reade

At the Duane Reade on my block his name is Paul. Paul is an aspiring actor/writer/astrologist and I am never buying Tampons from him ever again.

3.  All of your fantasies about fabulous gay best friends will come true.

I hoped on a subway at 1am on a Friday night. I stepped onto the train and heard “Giiiiirl, you work’n that hair, mhmm, oh yes you are, whassyoname?” Suddenly I was in a subway car that had been transformed into a game of gay trivia. I’ll leave out the details but lets just say that if you work for MTV and you need some more reality TV show ideas, let’s talk.

4.  Anywhere you go there will be gorgeous Norwegians to ruin your self-esteem

If you ever have a fleeting thought of your own attractiveness be aware that New York will punish you with hordes of beautiful Norwegians who play the harp and wear non-ironic, transparent harem pants.

5. The only thing New Yorkers love more than making fun of themselves is making fun of Brooklyn.

Hipsters. Brooklyn. Psssssh. Am I right?

6.  New Yorkers Do Not Joke About Food

My first day at my new job I ducked out of the office for a slice of pizza. As a virgin New Yorker I made the capital mistake of grabbing a slice at the first deli I came across. When I walked back into the office my new coworkers looked at me anxiously “So, where’d ya go?”

“Oh, I just grabbed a slice at that place on the corner.” One coworker tightened her grip on the stapler she had been holding and my boss just shook his head slowly. “Jus—just check with us before you eat anywhere— OK?”

7.  New Yorkers must know exactly where you were when anything happens to you

Maybe you’re telling a story about the time you saw grumpy cat. Maybe you’re sharing about the time you ran into Minnie Driver at a Dress Barn. If you don’t know the exact location and how far it is from the L to the 6 from the Q, don’t bother.

I have a theory that this location-obsessed culture stems from WAY too many disastrous end-of-the-world movies that take place in New York. Maybe New Yorkers need to know exactly where you were so they can go back and repeat your memory before Manhattan bites the dust.