I have moved.

Yes, I know. I'm annoying.

Find me now at: http://phillylush.wordpress.com/.

I've wanted to move onto wordpress for a while now, for various reasons. The only reason I wasn't was because I didn't want people to have to go through the hassle of updating their links for me and such. But, in the end, the allure of wordpress was too strong. Maybe it was its ability to tell me how people found my posts, or its manly manner of taking charge, and sending my entries to google. Or its coy grin as it gives me a line graph of what got read when. Ah, wordpress, you have swayed my heart.

Goodbye blogger. I am sorry that I was weak and could not be more faithful. I hope we could still be friends? I am leaving this blog here, so that people know where to find me. I hope you don't mind. Don't worry, my liebling, there are other bloggers in the vast series of tubes.

Anyway, friends of mine, please update your blogrolls with the new address. Readers, please update your bookmarks. New people, please click that link and see what blogger gave up by not being attentive to my needs.

This is your blog on pot...

I was corrected by the lovely Heather D. about my last entry's statement that Philadelphia only has two head shops. So here is your handy-dandy guide to Philly's head shops, guest-written by the lovely and talented Heather:

"Due to the early push of Philadelphia Bill No: 060345* (since known as Philadelphia Blunt Ban) most head shops where chased out of Philadelphia., The bills stated it was unlawful sell any item “"where the seller knows, or under the circumstances reasonably should know" that it would be used to "convert, produce, process, prepare, test, analyze, pack, repack, store, contain, conceal, inject, ingest, inhale or otherwise introduce into the human body a controlled substance in violation of [the Pennsylvania Controlled Substance, Drug, Device and Cosmetic Act]". (holla wikipedia) I believe this happened sometime my late years in high school, so around 2001-2003. There use to be shops all over the place. Little dingy shops, that moms would pull their children closer to them if they walked by it. Regardless, this bill has since been rightfully overturned. (now they are just going after 7-11’s and Wawa’s for selling blunts) There are a few remaining and some new head shops in Philadelphia.

Like the true toker I am, names and addresses are small details that are lost in the smoke. I will do my best to give you the best of my knowledge on the area.

~ Wonderland. I believe at 22nd and Chestnut? It’s a nice place. Tad overprice. Pretty stuff.
~ Pipe Dreams at 15th and South. that has alot of original work.
~ Artifax: half a block up from Cottman and the Blvd in Northeast Philadelphia. That has a pretty wide selections of pipes and bowls. They are also a tad pricey, but always have what you want.
~ There is another shop by the Ben Franklin Parkway. I can not remember a street or name of it to save my life. For that, I am sorry. It’s a small little place with some cute art work.
~ Also, there is this little reggae shop on South Street with a small selection, but a unique one none the less. I bought a wooden piece there before. It was pretty awesome. (Thing about wood pieces: not good to share. People slobber all over it.. Wood expands when it gets wet... Gew)
~ Lastly there is another shop by the Tocony Bridge. I go there more for their collection of fun tobacco then their pipe collection. But it’s always there in a clutch.

*Go head. Ask me how I know or remember the bill number! It was my high school id number!!! Another reason why I’m so Awesome!"

Drugs, casinos, and business drama. Just another weekend in Atlantic City.

I haven't blogged in a while due to various weekend getaways and
Atlantic City mid-week trips. For that I apologise to everyone except
Nate, who didn't come see me when I was ten minutes away from his
house. Though this entry is dedicated to him, since he yelled at me to update, so I guess it evens out.

This Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday I was in Atlantic City, enjoying the slot machines and extremely expensive ATM charges and...well...extremely expensive everything. As an interesting side note, the only thing you can buy in Atlantic City that is cheaper there than in Philadelphia is a bowl. My friend who will remain nameless was extremely upset that the exact one s/he bought two weeks ago at Wonderland was three dollars cheaper on the boardwalk (this is another entry entirely, but every experienced stoner in the city knows that Wonderland is a rip-off. The unfortunate thing is that Philly smokers only have two real options to buy their paraphernalia, and the other one is up on the Roosevelt Boulevard, which is a bit of a hike for those of us in the city-proper).

But I digress.

We stayed at Harrah's casino on the Marina, which, if you've never been to Atlantic City, is near the Borgata, the newly built Water Club, The Trump Marina, and nothing else. It is separated from the rest of the casinos, the boardwalk, and everything you would want to do in Atlantic City besides gambling by miles of a neighborhood you don't want to walk through. So, you're only option is to take some kind of shuttle thing.

The Jitney has existed in A.C. since 1915 (and its cars seem to be about that old). It's a little shuttle service that runs along most of the casinos, the train station, and a few other choice locations.

Apparently they're in a big of a tiff right now because Harrah's, at the request of its patrons (which the Jitney's website even admits), started its own shuttle service. This service is free and available only to platinum and diamond members, and gold members who are staying at the hotel (you're eligible for a gold card by signing up. Gold is not a big deal).

The Jitney is pissed. So much that they've made a website about it: www.savethejitney.com, and have adorned most of their shuttles with a picture of King Kong (Harrah's) destroying the Jitney.

Personally, I think the competition will be healthy for them. It's not even real competition. If I wasn't staying at the hotel, I couldn't have used Harrah's shuttle. I couldn't use it this weekend anyway because one of the girls we were vacationing with never bothered to sign up for a card.

Secondly, the Harrah's shuttle took forever to come, and five jitneys showed up at Harrah's in ten minutes. With that pace, eventually people from the Harrah's line are going to get bored and shell out the $2.25.

Thirdly, there's no reason Harrah's shouldn't be allowed to provide this service to its patrons. Savethejitney is trying to make it sound like Harrah's will only take you to its sister casinos, and that those are so spread apart that no one can leave and we'll be trapped forever in a world of no clocks and blinking lights. This is false. You can take the shuttle to Ceasars, walk through it, and be on the boardwalk. None of us wanted to get a room at Harrah's because of how far away it was. Not having a free service to transport its guests to a fun area was obviously hurting them, or else why would they spend money to take people away from their slot machines?

So...in a very uncharacteristic move, I guess I'm siding with "the man" on this one. Sorry idealistic internal child.

Though, to be fair, let's not forget that before Harrah's made this shuttle the Jitney held a monopoly. They aren't exactly the innocent mom-and-pop store getting eaten by Walmart here.

The Jitney my friends and I got on, by the way, broke down on the highway. We didn't have to wait longer than ten minutes for someone to come save us, but considering that it was plastered in signs about how evil Harrah's shuttle was I was quite amused.

More teenage parents than myspace!

I just watched the season finale of Baby Borrowers. The only reason I know this show exists is because they sent a promo to the newspaper I used to work for with their first two episodes (which the network said we weren't allowed to review. Just watch and mock, which we did). So when I saw the preview for the finale that promised to tell which couples remained together, I made a point to watch it.

The premise of the show is that young couples, kids 18 and 19, live in this neighborhood together. The first two nights the couple stays alone and "goes to bed with nothing happening" (two teenagers are alone in a house, there's no way they didn't bone). Then the couple gets to watch a baby for a few days, then a toddler, then a pre-teen, then an old person.

Spoiler alert: none of the couples stay together. What I find extremely presumptuous is that the show tries to imply that its the reason for all the break-ups. Because high school couples don't break up before or during college? Because that's not perfectly normal, and would have happened whether these kids went on a reality TV show or not? Yes, NBC, its totally you're fault these couples broke up, and not the hot guy/girl living down the hall in their dorm.

Granted, the wedding I have coming up at the end of August is between two people who have been together since she was a sophomore in high school, but I'm gonna say they're the exception that proves the rule.

Nate Adams rejoice, I am finally updating about something important to drinkers in Philly

According to my drunken source who was at both locations when the liquor control board showed up (first to one, then to the other), both Bob and Barbara's and Tritone were raided tonight and shut down.

Tritone was raided for an expired food license, and Bob and Barbara's was for blocking the fire exit.

Pass it on.

"Running for political office is like debating with a forum troll..."

Godwin's Law has been evoked, Obama has been compared to Hitler. And by Ben Stein no less, a name I haven't heard in a long time.

I don't like the idea of Senator Obama giving his acceptance speech in front of 75,000 wildly cheering people. That is not the way we do things in political parties in the United States of America. We have a contained number of people in an arena. Seventy-five-thousand people at an outdoor sports palace, well, that's something the Fuehrer would have done.

Right, something the Fuehrer would do, and something any politician who could get 75,000 screaming people would do. What is the fear here? That people like this guy? This isn't the way we do things in America because usually no one likes the candidates enough.

If you're going to compare someone to Hitler, do it because they have similar politics (like, say, a hatred of homosexuals), or have similar practices (like, say, detaining people in camps without a fair trial) [I'm sure you see where I'm going with that, so I'll stop rather than evoke the law myself...], not because they're the political equivalent of the Beatles.

Actually, new rule. Unless the person has murdered millions of people, don't compare them to Hitler. That's a hyperbole. It's just silly, and makes you look desperate. The next person who compares either Bush, Obama, Brittany Spears, or anyone except people like Stalin to Hitler gets a pie in the face. Sound fair?

And for the record, I agree with this t-shirt. People really need to stop acting like Obama is the second coming.

The first time is the most special.

Today is the first time in the history of my life that my parents are leaving me alone while they spend the night somewhere else. People are shocked when I tell them this, but, yes, my parents have never taken a vacation without me (not my doing, I assure you). As I have no experience being alone in my parent's house (being alone in my house at school doesn't count. My housemates being home didn't exactly stop anything wild from happening, them being home actually made the fun more awesome), here is the short list of things I assume should and will happen (based on TV/movies/stories I've heard):

~ I must break a lamp, vase, or have made some kind of mess that I will only have an hour to clean up.
~ If I had younger siblings they would need to get lost. Instead, my cat will magically get outside. I will find her at a jazz club around 2 a.m.
~ The babysitter will DIE!
~ My parents will call me from Atlantic City to let me know they'll be home an hour early!
~ I will use the house as a bordello to pay off my gambling debts.
~ I will fall in love with a hooker, who will betray me. Oh, I will learn so much about growing up!
~ I will invite two or three of my best friends over, who, even though they're my most trusted friends, will be jerks and invite the entire school! Including my crush and the head cheerleader he's in love with!
~ Excessive drug and alcohol use.
~ Someone will have sex in my parents' bed.
~ My sibling/cat will get drunk/stoned for the first time. Chewbacca and I will then have a long, touching talk in order to make the movie experience less hedonistic.
~ Robbers will attempt to break in, and I will use a series of wacky booby traps to stop them.
~ Witches will try to kill my virginal friend, and with the help of a talking animal we'll trick them into crossing holy ground.
~ Terrorists will try to take over the world, but somehow only me and my group of misfit friends know this! We'll have to do illegal things and steal some cars to save the world, but in the end I'll get a metal of honor from the President.
~ I will: eat a ridiculous amount of candy and/or ice cream; dance in my underwear; blast music; read my sibling/cat's diary (Dear Diary: today the girl made me wait five minutes before she fed me. One day I will steal her soul as she sleeps).
~ Me, my sibling/cat, and wacky friend will accidentally stumble into the time machine my scientist father is building in the garage. We'll hang out with talking, humanoid dinosaurs, learn some life lessons, and save the dinosaur world from destruction. (P.S. this is the greatest movie ever, and if you don't know what I'm referencing I feel bad for you. Actually, if you do know what I'm referencing please comment with the name of the film, because I can't remember it.)

"You call that a life? This is a life!"

Remember that guy who tried to sell his life on Ebay after his wife left him? Turns out none of the top bids can go through with it.

I can't tell if my reaction is "oh you poor kid" or "well, did you really think it would work?"

The article quotes him as saying

"I am very surprised I am the only person out there with a bit of adventure. It is a bit of a shame, but never mind."

So, only six people wanted to buy his terrible life and now they can't take it, so he's entering into denial and assuming its everyone else's fault for not wanting to spend 2 million pounds for a tiny house, a boring middle management job, and friends this guy doesn't seem that upset to lose.

On the Daily Show two nights ago, during the Back in Black segment about how America was being bought by other countries, Donald Trump gives a similar statement about how he's disappointed no American stepped up to buy his ridiculously ugly and expensive property. That's right. It's totally our fault that we don't want your stuff.

I couldn't tell if I wanted to use a picture of the guy or Crocodile Dundee. And then I thought "hey, this is relevant. I would buy Dundee's life."

Hating teenagers, its the American way.

My companion and I were walking down Fitzwater street last night, and at about fifth and Fitzwater he stopped, sighed, and put his hands over his ears. I stared at him, and he explained only "I hate this house," and pointed to the nice white house on the corner.

"Why?" I asked.
"Wait for it," he replied.

Suddenly, my ears were hit with a high-pitched frequency that almost knocked me back. Apparently this house uses an anti-loitering device, such as Mosquito products. Anti-loitering devices are based on the idea that as humans get older they lose their hearing, so only people under 24 can hear certain frequencies. The device will emit that frequency every few minutes, to drive away the evil teenage menace and leave the 30-somethings of the neighborhood in peace.

This device is all well and good in front of a grocery store, where the property is big enough that only people actually trespassing would hear it, or in a suburban or rural environment. But in the middle of a city? In the middle of a fairly nice up-and-coming neighborhood in the city? Come on.

First of all, my friend and I are both 22, and we could hear the pitch just fine. I assume they only turn it on at night, because I have walked by the house during the day without being in pain before, but I should also note that my friend and I were walking by it at the evil, late-night time of 10:45 p.m. Clearly we are horrible for being out past sunset in the summer, and deserve to be subjected to pain for daring to not go out of our way to get to his house.

Second of all, the pitch affects people over 18, people who can legally own houses, and some of which who could afford to move into the neighborhood (my friend actually does own a house a few blocks down). If the device is only turned on during the night, and potential buyers only tour their houses during the day, then those poor under 24-year-olds are in for a world of hurt the first night they spend in the house.

And what about families? Is this street completely devoid of children? Even if the kids lived a few doors down, so that they'd never hear it while in their own home, are kids not allowed to walk around their own neighborhood now?

It seems to me like these machines only bring down the value of the surrounding houses. I would not buy a house in a neighborhood where I could only invite people of a certain age over for dinner.

It's absolutely ridiculous to have a machine like that in a city. Especially, I should point out, a city where most of the major crimes are committed by adults.

An intelligent (and spoiler-free) Dark Knight review

Firstly: Holy #%$@ wow.

Ok, so maybe this isn't that intelligent of a review.

I saw Dark Knight last night at midnight, and was not disappointed. I was worried that with all the hype this movie has been getting, that even if it was very good I would still be let down. Especially now that Heath Ledger has been getting oodles of Oscar buzz, I was secretly ready to walk out of the theater sad that he couldn't live up to my expectations.

Disappointment never came.

Ledger owned the Joker. I can't describe how perfect his acting was. From the occasional bursts of manic laughter to his need to loudly swallow his saliva during monologues (the smile in this version, as I'm sure anyone whose seen a movie poster already knows, is due to scars on the sides of his mouth. The attention to detail of the Joker having to deal with saliva build-up blew me away). What I liked most about the Joker was how he wasn't over-the-top. He was the Joker: insane and sadistic. But he was a human being, not a cartoon character. He didn't spend every scene laughing (which made when he did laugh all the more horrifying), he didn't repeat his "Why so serious?" catch-phrase more than three times. He was a human villain, and that made him creepy.

The first movie in this franchise, Batman Begins, was not scary - even though one of its villains was Scarecrow. This movie scared the crap out of me. It is not a Batman to bring the kids to. Terrible things happen, in disturbing ways. This is not the Joker from the Adam West TV series, this is the Joker who shoots Batgirl in the stomach, strips her naked, photographs her, and then shows those pictures to her father, Commissioner Gordon (not a spoiler, that doesn't happen in the movie, but it does happen in the comic books. The Joker is a fucking scary dude).

As a side note about the Joker - during the movie it occurred to me that the last movie I'd see with my childhood crush, Heath Ledger, the boy whose poster I'd had on my wall since 10 Things I Hate About You, was so disturbing that I didn't have one scene of "yeah, I'd make out with him." Ledger effectively did the opposite of what his critics said he'd do. He was not a pretty boy leading man in this, he was an actor.

The Joke stole the show, which is a shame, because the other characters and actors were top notch. Aaron Eckhart as Harvey Dent was perfect, through both stages of Harvey Dent's life. And again, the writing of this movie was superb. There was no cheesy build-up to "what eventually happens" (comic book fans know, everyone else can be surprised), just subtle hints that aren't forced into the story.

My only complaint about the movie is a plot point that will be a spoiler, so I can't talk about it. Let's just say, that as a female who goes to nerdy action movie I loved something that this movie did differently, and then my hopes were completely dashed.

In conclusion, go see this movie. You will walk out of the theater going "Iron Man? Who the hell is Iron Man?" This was the greatest movie of the summer (well, maybe. I still haven't seen Wall-E yet).

Sometimes truth is so much better than fiction

I was hitting the random button on xkcd today (as you do at work), and came across this comic.

It's hilarious in its own right, until I scrolled over it and the text "the younger folk in the audience think this is a joke" appeared. To which I thought "...Jimmy Carter was attacked by a giant swimming rabbit? No way."

Yes way.

It's sad that my history classes wasted so much time on the Industrial Revolution, and I was never taught something this awesome. I can picture my AP history tests now "please describe how the 1979 rabbit incident is related to Carter's release of Patty Hearst from jail two months earlier. Use at least three primary sources."

My first food Review: of course it would be a frozen product and not a restaurant.

For all you working stiffs out there, I can not recommend Oscar Mayer's Deli Creations enough. So far I've only had two, the Steakhouse Cheddar (pictured) and the chicken wrap.

However, these things are delicious, easy to make, and warm. And who doesn't love a warm sandwich for lunch? I personally am not a huge fan of roast beef, but the Steakhouse Cheddar (which comes with a lot of slices of roast beef, Cheddar cheese, mayonnaise, and steakhouse sauce) was pretty good.

You build each sandwich yourself (which is a great way to spend five minutes away from your desk), so if you hate Cheddar cheese or mayonnaise you don't have to use them.

My only complaint is that the wraps seem a little small, especially when compared to the giant rolls of the sandwich.

"WHY DO YOU PEOPLE DO THIS?"

My Canadian boss yelled at my crazy American ways again yesterday, for the way we write the date (the title of the entry is what he actually said. I had no idea what he was referring to at first).

America writes the date: July 16, 2008.
Canada and Europe writes the date: 16 July, 2008.

He tried to change my naughty ways, and explained that in a decade there are 120 "16th", 10 July's, and only 1 2008. So we should be writing the date in descending order of how often the numbers appear in a decade.

I'll concede that the Canadian way does make more sense, but I'm not changing my ways now. I'm a stubborn Ugly American. I do find the tiny culture differences fascinating though. How did every western country start doing something one way, except one? America writes the date "weird," England drives on the "wrong" side of the road. What happened in history to account for these differences?

Go directly to jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.

Bonnie, of the Drexel "Bonnie & Clyde" identify theft case, has pleaded guilty.

As a Lithuanian, I'm glad she's going to jail. Not because of the identity theft, not because of how pretty she is (in fact, I'm rather amused by the suggestion that the only reason this case made national news and they got caught was because the press thought she was really hot and kept running her picture), but because she claimed to be Lithuanian when she wasn't. Apparently she would wear purple contact lenses and tell people that all Lithuanians had purple eyes, and that her Lithuanian background was why she spoke fluent Russian, because all Lithuanians speak Russian.

Anyone with any knowledge of the Lithuanian fight for Independence from the Soviets knows why that last comment made me want to punch her in the face. Yes, a lot of Lithuanians speak Russian, but that's because they had to learn it or they'd get shot. Lithuania has its own language, thank you very much.

I'm extremely proud of being Lithuanian, and dealing with all the things that comes with it (most people not knowing where or what the country is and think I'm making it up [which is why she got away with lying about it. Learn your geography, people. It's in Europe! Europe should be easy!], a built-in fear of big governments, an urge to slap well-meaning college hippy friends who think Communism is awesome and works every time, etc).

I read this morning that "Bonnie and Clyde" got 6 years in jail, but now that I'm at work I can't find any sources to repeat that. Good riddance, I say.

More on beer.

This article has a lot more detail about the results of the Anheuser-Busch takeover, including the fact that Sam Adams is now the largest American-owned brewery (or will be when the deal finalizes, at least).

Yuengling, my dear local brew, will become the second largest American brewery, followed by Sierra Nevada.

And now you know.

Newsflash: InBev buys Anheuser-Busch for $49.91billion

I'm not sure how I feel about the sudden beer monopoly in America, especially as the new company in charge is based in Belgium. On the one hand, Prague destroyed me, and the only American beers I can stand now are Yuengling and PBR, so this doesn't really affect me.

On the other hand, monopolies in general give me the willies. And Anheuser-Busch's leg-up on the competition was that it was an American-owned company.

I was made fun of yesterday for revealing that I only found out recently (like, in the past few months recently) that Yuengling was a local brew and not a national brand. It's just always been in every bar I've gone to state-side, so I never had reason to think people outside the tri-state area wouldn't be blessed with $8 pitchers of something not brewed by Anheuser-Busch.

Support your local breweries, kids. Fight the monopolies. Drink Yuengling and Victory products. Damn the man, save the Empire, and all that jazz.

P.S. for all you fellow nerds out there, Victory makes a beer called Hoptimous Prime. Be forewarned: my friends love all of Victory's products, but I find them to be too hoppy for my taste, so it depends on your preference. I do recommend (for those of us who don't enjoy the taste of hops) their Golden Monkey.

WHY SO SERIOUS?!?!

This morning I received an e-mail from humanresources@whysoserious.com offering me free tickets to an early showing of the new Batman movie. The e-mail was a link, and then the following text: "HA HA HA HA HA ha HA HA ha HA HA ha HA HA HA ha HA HA HA ha HA HA HA HA HA HA HA ha ha ha HA HA ha HA HA HA ha ha ha HA HA ha HA HA HA ha ha HA HA HA HA HA HA HA ha HA HA ha HA ha ha HA HA HA HA HA HA ha HA HA ha ha ha HA HA HA HA HA HA ha ha HA HA HA ha HA HA HA HA ha ha HA ha HA ha HA HA HA HA HA ha ha ha HA HA HA HA ha HA HA HA ha HA HA HA HA ha HA ha"

Unfortunately, the only theater till available in the tri-state area is one in a town in Pa that I've never heard of before, so I don't think I'll be taking the Joker's offer.

May I just say that I love the viral marketing for this movie.

I still can't really believe this happened...

My mother, it should be noted, doesn't really use the internet, so has no idea why this is funny.

So my cat is walking dangerously close to the chocolate chip muffins she just made.

me: No, cat.
mom: She shouldn't be hungry. She had the rest of your dinner.
A pause as this sinks in.
me: She ate my cheeseburger? My cat ate a cheeseburger?
mom: Well, she was looking at it like she wanted it.Apparently, you can.

"You Americans are weird." "Yep."

One of my bosses is Canadian. He came into the office today and demanded to know why Americans use the phrases "Fourth of July" and "Independence Day" interchangeably, because we don't do this for any other holiday.

"You don't say, 'what are you doing for the 25th of December?' or 'Man, I can't wait for the parade on January 1st.'" He went on to point out that in Canada, July 1st was just "Independence Day," not the first of July.

So I looked it up, because that is an interesting question (I already came out as a nerd, remember?). The best answer I could come up with is that there are records of people celebrating the fourth of July as a holiday since 1777. But the first recorded use of the name Independence Day didn't occur until 1791. My theory was that because people had been used to saying "Let's celebrate the fourth of July!" for over a decade, referring to the day by the date slipped into the vernacular. Also, the day wasn't made into a holiday until 1870, so its also very possible that even though some states and areas were calling it Independence Day, the name didn't spread to the other areas of the country until the late 1800s, resulting in people being so used to saying "the fourth of July" that it stuck.

I'll admit, my theory is a little weak. If you have a better idea I'd love to hear it.

This question and conversation also led me to learn that every state in the Union has a state anthem except for New Jersey. New Jersey's unofficial anthem is "Born to Run" by Bruce Springsteen, while all the other states' songs (in my opinion) kinda suck. So, in the ongoing battle to find out which is the best state in the Union, New Jersey could very well be winning the "coolest song" round, but choices not to even enter itself into that race. That's ballsy.

"Never take a wife till thou hast a house (and a fire) to put her in."

Benjamin Franklin and Betsy Ross are getting married tomorrow.

No, really. Ralph Archbold, one of the most famous Ben Franklins, is getting married to Linda Wilde, who portrays Betsy Ross. They will apparently "exchange rings engraved with a kite and key and stars and stripes, symbols representing the historic characters they play."

I find this marriage to be unbearably cute.

(Is "Ben Franklins" grammatically correct? I've been staring at that sentence for five minutes now trying to figure out another way to say it.)

If you're really (and I mean really) bored today...

The giant Eddie Murphy head, as seen in this article terrorizing Washington, DC, has made it to Philadelphia. It's in front of the Fox building on Market St. today.

Of all the days for me to not bring my camera to work.

Without me, its just Aweso.

I sent out a lot of resumes right after I graduated. One good thing about having found employment, is that it offsets the mind numbing depression that comes from opening the steady stream of rejection letters that have been coming in since May. Each one is more silly than the last. They all want me to know that I'm great, just...not great enough.

The Philadelphia Convention & Visitors Bureau took it a step too far, I think. They want me to know that its not my fault they can't hire me, its theirs. They don't have a "position...available that would utilize [my] skills and experience."

Frankly, I'm just too awesome to work for them. And they need me to know that.

Lawn Chair Drive-in

I think this blog is helping me get through my post-graduation quarter life crisis (as seen in classic films like The Graduate and [the debatable classic] Garden State).

Anyway, while I still have absolutely nothing to do and am waiting for the work day to end, I'm going to plug my friend's event. Every Tuesday night at the park at 3rd and Poplar is the Lawn Chair Drive-in. Bring a blanket or a beach chair and claim a spot on the grass, and then watch old movies screened on a 16MM projector. Bonus: it's free. Added bonus: this is one of the few parks in the city where drinking alcohol in public is legal. The show starts at sunset, so figure out whenever that is whatever day you go (because you should).

More information, including upcoming movies, can be found here.

A lunch break journey through historical Philadelphia

It may not be clear from the fact that I readily admit that I am a lush, but I'm really a huge nerd. I admit this now, because its time we were honest with each other (all three people who read this), and because it explains this post, in which I explore historical Philadelphia in a half hour.

The time limit is because this half hour was my break from work. I sort-of-kind-of work in the entertainment industry (sorta. kinda.), so when there's nothing to promote there's nothing to do, and I spend 7 hours at a desk playing travian and annoying my boss by asking her for work every twenty minutes. I finally got frustrated, pretended I was going to Cosi's for some overpriced coffee (entertainment people love overpriced coffee), and went walking through the streets.

Franklin's Court happens to be less than a block from my office. This is my favorite spot in the city, and has been since I was a child. Unfortunately, it closes its gates before my work day ends, so I rarely get to go there even though I'm so close.

The Court is the former home of Ben Franklin. In 1812 his grandchildren sold it for some reason, and the original house and printing office were torn down to make way for row homes, which were then torn down when the city realized what a great tourist trap Franklin's house was. The property is a square featuring gardens and hollow outlines (pictured) of where the house and printing office once stood. Best of all, and the original reason my mother and I came here all the time, it houses an underground museum, which is free to the public and air conditioned. Air conditioning is very important.

I love the area because since its literally inside of the block, very few people know its there. Once tourist season ends the place is virtually deserted. Even now, smack dab in the middle of the annual "tourists attack the city" month (the week around July 4th, for obvious reasons, is unbearable for natives), there were maybe seven people wandering around the entire square. That's heaven.

I like cutting through back alleys and finding the lesser known historical areas of the city. I took a picture today (which I may upload later if I remember) of the window where my best friend swears he saw a ghost one night. His story is helped by the fact that that house is supposed to be the most haunted house in the city (its diagonal to Carpenter's Hall, south of it, on the corner of 2nd if you want to go ghost hunting).

Post 9-11 Philadelphia, unfortunately, is not the Philadelphia I grew up with. Once upon a time the park behind Independence Hall was my playground. Today, to get anywhere near the building you have to go through a metal detector, stand in a 2 hour line, and be forced to tour the entire building and liberty bell first. No thanks. I love the building, and I love this city, but some nights when I wander by it I'm afraid to linger too long, lest some Park Ranger think I'm plotting something.

I find it sad that Ben Franklin is the city's patron saint (not literally of course. He wasn't Catholic.), who warned us that "those who sacrifice liberty for security deserve neither," and this is what his former neighborhood has become. Obsessed with pretending to be safe when, really, what the hell is a tiny fence that comes up to an adult's waist going to do?

While we're on the subject of Independence Hall, the geography of Philadelphia in National Treasure is wrong. It's the wrongiest most wrong layout of the city ever. Please do not come here and expect to be able to walk from the Hall to South Street to Reading Terminal in five minutes. You will be laughed at, and then keel over and die from trying it.

As a final note: I did eventually go get my overpriced coffee from Cosi. As I walked into the store, the woman behind me turned to her friend and said "yeah, this is it for historical Philadelphia. It's just these few block." That lady is wrong, and may inspire a future entry. Maybe.

Riding in cars with cab drivers

In a way, I feel bad for cab drivers, because it must be hard for them to know how to drive for each customer.

My cab ride home tonight was the type of ride I hate. It was the kind where the driver does 50 MPH on streets where the speed limit is 35. Where they speed into the intersection, slow down when they've already hit the middle of it, and then speed up again. That is not the "South Philly slide." The South Philly slide requires that you slow down before the intersection, so that the oncoming traffic won't, ya know, kill me. It was the type of cab ride that makes me terrified for my life, and really not want to tip all that much.

I have been in three car accidents in my life, all of which I have been a passenger for. Since the first two (the most recent one was a non-serious fender-bender) I have become scared of being in cars that I'm not in control of. For the first few weeks after the second accident I couldn't even be in the car with my mother driving without gripping the seat in terror and freaking out at every car that appeared in the intersection.

The first accident happened when I was being driven home by a girl from the suburbs, so she didn't realize that every intersection in the city either has a stop light or a stop sign. A truck was parked illegally on one corner, blocking her view of the stop sign, so she plowed into the intersection and t-boned a car driven by a 17-year old kid, spinning it around a few times. It became a virtual pinball, knocking into a parked car, bouncing off of that into another, and then finally hitting a fence.

The second accident, the one that left me in tears (perhaps because I am selfish since I didn't cry over the accident that almost killed a minor), almost killed me. My friend had the right of way and was making a legal turn at an intersection, only to be t-boned (fate's revenge?). I got the brunt of the other car's impact, the metal and airbag colliding into my arm, as the car spun around more times than I could count. All I could hear was my friends' screaming, and the tiny voice in my head going "wow. That's how I go?" I walked away from that crash unable to lift my arm for a month.

The reason I feel bad for cab drivers is because how are they supposed to know that every time they drive fast they activate horrifying memories for me and lose a tip. My best friend hates being in cabs where they drive below the speed limit. She feels that the driver is only going slow to rack up the meter and make her pay more. Perhaps this is partially true, because I've certainly had some cab drivers obviously try to screw me in the past*, but when she's in the cab, if the driver makes a full stop at every stop sign, he loses a tip.

I suppose the only way for a cab driver to ensure he's doing the right thing is by actually following the traffic laws, and not go too fast or too slow. But this is Philadelphia. Driving correctly will probably cause an accident.

*My personal favorite was when the cab driver assumed I was too drunk to do basic math, and when I paid for a 7 dollar cab ride with a 20 tried to give me back a 5.

You, sir, are a liar, and I have science to prove it.

This has nothing to do with Philadelphia, and everything to do with Denver.

Fark.com linked me to this article from the Denver post, about a claw game using live lobsters. Basically the lobsters are in their tank, you insert $2, and try to win a lobster the way you would try to win a stuffed animal at a carnival. PETA, obviously, is a little peeved about this.

I have no opinion on the claw machine itself. What I do have an opinion on is bad journalism.

The author of the article says "Lobsters, however, are not vegetarians. "Lobsters' favorite food is lobster," said Pappas."

This is pretty much a lie. What bothers me most about it being a lie, is that I read that statement, thought "that doesn't sound right," and then spent all of five minutes researching it before finding a credible website to prove him wrong.

Marinebio.org says here that lobsters only eat each other when in captivity. I.E. Lobsters will only resort to cannibalism when humans capture and starve them.

Somehow I don't think that "well, lobsters eat each other...because of people like me..." should be this guy's main argument.

More importantly, why does Al Lewis have a job in journalism, and I don't?

Side note:

On a related note to me being drunk last night, Wendy's promise that it will stay open till 1 a.m. is misleading and slightly annoying. When you read that statement you would think "oh, ok, so I have till 1 a.m. to get there until they lock the door." Wrong. You have till 12:30 a.m. to get there. And you better eat fast, because they'll kick you out at 12:45.

Last night I ate on top of a City Paper news box. It was a new experience for me.

I am an understanding person. When they told me to leave, I left without a fuss, because hell it's 12:45 in the morning and they wanted to get home. I just wish if they were planning on locking the door at 12:30 (we were the very last people to get in, they literally locked the door behind us), Wendy's would advertise that so people would know to leave their bars and get to Wendy's quicker, and not think they had extra time. There were about five people who tried to get inside after us last night. Two of which actually looked at their watch after trying the door.

I should note that I'm ranting about this not because it happened to me last night, but because its happened to me at least four different times now, at two different Wendy's locations in the city. Don't advertise about how awesome you are for staying open till 1 a.m., if you won't actually do it.

Covers and porn stars

I absolutely refuse to pay a cover to get into a bar. There's no way I will pay $5 or $10 for the privilege of being able to buy overcharged alcohol. If a bar does cover, its usually a sign that that's not the place for me anyway. Bars with covers tend to be bars for the frat boys and the rich kids who roll in from the suburbs every weekend. Bars like the now closed Tiki Bob's or McFadden's are prime examples of this: bars that cover and suck. (Though, the last time I went to McFadden's a hot Asian bartender poured a free shot of rum into my mouth. Even as a straight woman I still couldn't complain about that too much.)

There are notable exceptions to my "No covers ever" rule. Bars with musical acts where the cover goes to pay the band are fine. Chris' Jazz Cafe usually always has a $2-5 dollar cover, but that money goes to the Jazz bands they have playing every night. This to me is a worthy cover.

And of course, then there are covers like the one at The Kyber. $10 to enter, and then all well drinks and domestic beer is free until 2 a.m. or you pass out.

I am spoiled, I suppose. Last night I dropped by one of my favorite bars, The Raven. Apparently we had stumbled upon a party for some porn website, so there was a $10 cover. My friend the bouncer (forced to wear a suit for the occasion. I suppose to fit in with the half naked women wandering around) opened the door for me and my drinking buddy, and directed us past the guy taking money. I'll admit, I felt pretty cool.

The night was sponsored by this new vodka drink, which is infused with energy drink stuff to give it an extra kick. The free shots we got that were mixed with it tasted nice enough, but mixing liquor and energy drinks always seemed like a bad idea to me.

First post.

I have made this journal to detail the life of a Philadelphian 20-something alcoholic. Hopefully you find something useful here.