New York Sh*tty Stories: A Day in the City That Never Stops Being Extra

Hi, it’s Maegami—back in action. As I mentioned yesterday, nothing in life is permanent (Anicca). And right now? It kinda feels like I’m in the middle of a live-action House of Cards: Divorce Edition. Every day brings a new plot twist, and no one’s handing out popcorn.

So, here’s the deal: I’m officially starting this blog. It was originally meant for Japanese readers, but deep down, I’ve always wanted to write in English. Why? Because New York City never runs out of stories. And because I have a lot to say—especially to young women—through the lens of my own (sometimes chaotic) experience. Think: Carrie Bradshaw – but women -don’t follow their stories you will end up in misery.

Yesterday, I went to Eataly in Manhattan (yes, the food hall of dreams – I will write the review sometime soon). As I was tossing out my trash, I spotted a reAlly handsome, clean-cut white guy… splashing water on his face like he was auditioning for a skincare commercial. Concerned, I asked, “Are you okay?” (Yeah, I talk to people. I talked to three people yesterday. That’s New York style.)

His reply?
“I got sh*t on my face.”
Literal bird poop. Straight from the sky. Welcome to New York.

Later that day, I walked through East Midtown and saw a man bleeding from his head, lying on the street. His friends were trying to help, and I stood there thinking: Yep. Just another Thursday in the city.

New York isn’t just a city—it’s a full-blown soap opera with no commercial breaks.
So… you still wanna move here?