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I Hate Spring

10 Jun

It makes me want to fuck like a rabbit.  These pollens make me stupid and what I “need” is a Greek tragedy to get over myself.  Where art thou Romeo?  I’ve got some nightshade and teen angst to kill.  So, I do the best to protect my total idiocy.  I put stop gaps in my behavior, reminders to check myself.  Is this me or Mother Nature?

I can curb my carnal instincts (someone punch me before I hurt myself). Although these recent articles beg for the realization that I might just be on point.

But not street dudes, harping around like a bunch of birds in heat.  I feel like I’ve stepped into Discovery’s Plant Earth segment about mating calls.  I hear you baby, cat calling, sidewalk hustling, lip smacking.  Aren’t there rules for this?

You know what will really win me over? Serenade me at midnight while I walk down a dark street. Slide your hand along my ass as you inappropriately linger too long in the trolley car.  Aggressively scream that you’ll steal me from my roommate who you’ve assumed is my boyfriend. 

Don’t get me wrong.  There are unbelievably awkward moments that result in successful relationships. Like the Fu Wah guy’s sister, for instance, was followed by an Eagles player that came into her restaurant and bought her flowers on the daily.  Maybe if he wasn’t a popular sports figure, we would think this was creepy.

I still think its creepy.  But I also think cute Asian chicks have their own personal seduction hell.

This is all to say how excited I am about Hollaback Philly!  They did some work in my hood and are headed to be a panel at the Trans-Health Conference this weekend.

 

 

Yo, white girl, you a 10!

Thanks, I wonder what a full 100 looks like?

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A Love Letter to SEPTA

1 May
Dear SEPTA,

Despite the running shitty jokes about your service, we know how hard you work. We’re there on the early train busting our asses to work, too. We know you keep a balanced budget despite our friends in Harrisburg throwing you under the bus (literally). And we know those 1981 trolleys, though vintage, are better for our air quality than any Prius. So I fucking  love you, despite the fat-kid-in-gym-class-getting-picked-last scenario.

While getting the 5th largest population in America to work on a miniscule capital budget you did me some fucking justice. You found my keys… to my life. House, bike, car. The whole bit. You found them, tagged them, and saved them. For me.

You better believe I fucking love SEPTA.

With all my heart,

Lost and Found Article #61

Last of the South Philly Kings

17 Sep

“Putting the cunt back into country” is pressed into large blue and red tin boards fashioning a bent over Bettie Boop.  This tiny corner luncheonette has been operational for over 20 years, surviving a destructive blaze only to be brought back by the love and hard work of its South Philly neighborhood.

Carmen’s Country Kitchen serves up some quirkiest combinations of tasty food that you never even knew.  Just last week, I plowed through homegrown tomato and buttermilk pancakes with a side of apple smoked bacon.  *die*

Not to mention the chocolate french toast with carmel ice cream and pecans, over flowing with a side of home fried potatoes.

But beyond the roll-over-in-a-fit-of-delight-and-comatose-joy feeling, was on that day, Carmen opened her shop up on a Monday.  Untraditional hours for the kitchen.  But we called to see if she would cook and she happy agreed to spend part of her Monday morning whipping up the food our mothers would have never even conceived of.

For Eric, it may be his first and last time at the Country Kitchen.  The lease holder has decided this tiny 15 seat luncheonette would be better off as another pizza joint. As much as I can down a cheesy pie, it won’t have the same kitchy feel as the Country Kitchen.  No nipple mugs, penis fertility sculptures, Mason jars full of chilled water, or  windows adorned with thriving plants.

I doubt there will ever be a line of hungry and patient patrons waiting for pizza as they did for the sweet taste of Carmen’s cooking.  Simply for now, thank you Carmen for finding the cunt in me.

Lock Up: Nancy’s Arrival

1 May

“This is death row, although no inmates were ever executed here.  They were sent to Rockview Prison near State College,” said our tour guide Scott.  “Whoop whooop!” I said and I raised my hands in the air.  Nancy knocked them down.  “I don’t think you can rep a prison if you haven’t been there, even if it is in your home town.”

Our tour guide was recently nonplussed by my comments noting he may have been a geologist in a different life.  This second attempt at jesting/reping my hood made no mark on Scott.   To my amazement he was able to fend off and overly zealous tourist with a tactile dysfunction.  He ran around like a 12 year old, touching everything, including his homely girlfriend.

During our tour we came to understand that penitentiary was not a word commonly used at the time of the prisons induction.  It stands for penance…a type of silent waiting drawn from Quaker practices.  Either way, the prison was a cool tour and during the winter (what winter!?)

Eastern State can be so cheap (AAA, public school teacher, lowly student ID).  Its a great place to take a friend with free parking surrounding it on all blocks!

Fish to Face. NOM NOM!

27 Feb

I stood in the dressing room mirror at New York and Company and wiggled around.  This motion is called “giggly puff”.  And the sad true fact was, after doing to initial research into my diet, I was eating 60 % carbs and 25% fats with so little exercise.  Umm, any pie chart reading idiot could see this was already way out of hand.

So, I’m rocking a high protein, low carb diet. (Lets be real, I’ve always been a dough girl, don’t take my bread!) I start craving some chicken with tasty flavors and  I stressed over the recently closed Roost. Says closed for the holidays, what a lie.

Deep into my chicken craving I remember Le Bercail on Balitmore.  Roost did fried chicken, which is not diet appropriate.  However, Le Bercial, offers grilled chicken, fish, and fresh vegetables.  The sauces section may be all you need.  But I ordered the half chicken and plantains.  What I had forgotten about was how well spiced the chicken was.  And from there, I forgot all about Roost and fell head over heels with Le Bercail.

Such good food, so close to Clark Park and open late!

First They Came…

23 Nov

I am often quiet in the midst of many changing things.  I have observed the uprisings of the Occupy movement in every state.  I’ve witnessed my home of Centre Country be rocked by sex scandal and lack of leadership and have seen the community struggle to pull itself together.   I have said little in the way of either.  I have watched a middle aged women tell her aging mother that the Occupy Moment is just folks complaining about the rich.  And when her mother asked if this was happening world wide, she said no.  She must not have seen the 300,000 people in Madrid Spain, or the oust of political leaders in Rome Italy, or the streets of London.  She must not have been watching.  She must have simply been consumed by her own mundane life.

But I said nothing to her elderly mother.  I did not tell her assessment was right.  Yes, there is something going on in the world.  And I thought about this quote from Niemöller:

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out —
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out —
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out —
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me — and there was no one left to speak for me.

So, I share this.  Someone from my community, who was a graduate student from Penn State when I first met him:

Philadelphia: The City of Neighborly Love

9 Sep

We can’t all be brothers, its rude to even assume that in Philly everyone can share that brotherly love.  I suspect that’s why tourists are shocked by the aggression on the Schuylkill or the load honks followed by a passing middle finger.

Whats not obvious to the passing eye are the tightly knit neighborhoods that make up Philadelphia.  Even the most desolate and empty streets hold together an underlying bond.  Maybe its because we’ve all had something stolen or we know what its like when something important is returned.

Yesterday, my friend Greg relayed this story:

I bought this saxophone from the music teacher i was taking lessons from.  I was bout 13 years old and I loved it.  A few years later I had my saxophone and trumpet stowed in my car outside my house in Factoryville Pa and they were stolen.  It can happy anywhere people, anywhere!

A couple of weeks later my Dad strolled into a pawn shop and saw my saxophone just laying there.  He knew it was mine because it was very distinctive and he brought her back to me.  The trumpet never came home.

Well, last week Maggie (his girlfriend) and I were coming home and moving tons of stuff out of our car to a new apartment on Sunday.  On the following Thursday I remember I’d left my saxophone on the side of the street.  Stunned in all disbelief that I had left her outside and totally unable to move, Maggie began calling Pawn shops all over Philadelphia.

I took a moment to go to the kitchen where I found Rania (roommate).  I told Rania I was upset because I had left my saxophone outside.  And then she told me she had run into a neighbor  named Dave that had asked if someone wanted a trumpet that he’d found on the street.  She pointed me in his direction and I was off!

I saw someone on the porch of the house and asked if he knew Dave.  In turn he called up loudly to the third floor. “DAAAVVEE!” Dave stuck his head out the window and gave me a look that he knew why I’d come.  He came down holding the “trumpet”  and  I thanked him.  I asked if I could give him some money and he said sure.  I asked if $50 was enough and he said sure.  He told me he’d like to hear me play sometime and I offered to play it right then, but he declined shyly.

Before I left, he told me that someone up there (point to the sky) and told him to hang onto it.  He knew how important musical instruments can be.  That’s how I got my saxophone back.  So lets celebrate Dave!

“I am necessary”

4 Aug

Congratulations to my friend Nick (whom i especially celebrate) for making to the front page of the Cherry Hill Courier -Post.  The article covers how important it is for children to master the psychology of self-esteem as a way to promote better healthier athleticism.

A big congrats to Jacob Stewart and and Krista Miller on their engagement.  Its been a long time and they hiked the A.T. together…it was meant to be.

Last but not least a big thank you and congratulations to the ladies from Cloud 9 Philly Rooftop farm.  They met the funding goal and then some.  Plus I’m psyched about a new t-shirt hand printed by Clare herself!

Clean-Up for Squirrel Hill Falls Park A Success!

28 Jun

Thanks to all the folks who joined the clean-up effort last weekend.  We had over 25 volunteers!  Check out some of our photos!

Some of our volunteers are involved in other local groups.  Check them out!

Tool Library

Friends Rehabilitation Program Inc.

EQAT

West Philly Worship Group

Schuylkill River Exiles Rugby Club

Farm Frenzy, Raise the Roof!

23 Jun

West Philly has gardens, garden communities, and mini-farms popping up all over!  Farm 51, the guerilla space “Plotland” and cute little lot garden on Kingessing behind the recreation center.  What you don’t know, is that the West Side is about to RAISE THE ROOF!  (And I mean literally plant and raise a farm on the roof!)

Rania Campbell-Cobb, landscaper and farm coordinator for Guild House West Community Garden, and Clare Hyre, education coordinator for Saul W.B. Agricultural School, teamed up to bring you Cloud 9.  (You can read more details on their website)  Whats really cool is the idea of building your own farm on top of your apartment complex, or what local corner markets could provide in their own store… “top-o-the-market tomatoes!”