1.
Overheard snippit of a conversation between a heavily-tattooed guy in his late 20s and his girlfriend:
Guy: Yeah, so, the thing about this tattoo (points to cobweb tattoo on left elbow) is that all these bitches keep getting them even when they haven't been in the slammer. Like the other day I saw this girl with one and I was like "Yo, where were you locked up?" and she says, "Huh?" And I say, "What prison were you at?" and I point to her tattoo. And she's like "Ummm, I wasn't in prison." Let me tell you, that bitch is lucky nobody's walked right up to her after that answer and cut that tattoo right off her fucking arm.
[pause]
Oh hey, you want to go into H&M?
2.
Overheard conversation between two guys on the street near City Hall:
Guy 1: You know what? It's fucking beautiful outside today.
Guy 2: Yeah. But you know you've said that maybe a dozen times today already.
Guy 1: Well fuck you cuz I'm gonna say it at least 100 more times today. Because it's fucking GOOOORGEOUS out and I FUCKING LOVE PHILADELPHIA!!! WHO'S WITH ME HERE PEOPLE??
3.
Noticed, better late than never:
When you stand in the middle of the Parkway, you can see all the way from City Hall (Broad / 14th Street) clear to the Art Museum.
4.
Observed at Market and 9th (thereabouts):
A Ramones cover band set up - amps and all - and got through two great and extremely loud songs before some cops figured out they didn't have permits and shut their shit down.
5.
Observed at my house:
Two squirrels trying in vain to enter my neighbor's apartment through their cat door.
6.
I love this city.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
Pea Shoots
Oh hi, blog. Sorry about that. I've been ... busy.
Right now if you looked in my window you would see me shoveling salad into my face as fast as possible. Stupid ruffage requires so much chewing, but it's a labor of love because it's springtime and all sorts of produce is suddenly in season and everything tastes fresh and crunchy and flavorful and delicious.
One of the things on my salad is pea shoots by far my favorite of the sprout-type things. Nonetheless their taste is always so confusing to me because I'm pretty sure some wires got crossed in the sensory department when I was a small child. Pea shoots taste like, well, pea shoots, but they also taste like cigars.
Let me explain.
I grew up in the suburbs, except not really, because there wasn't an "urb" for miles and miles and miles. But I say "suburb" because it definitely wasn't the country. I could tell you where it was, but I'm not going to do that because the internet is full of weirdos and I'm not too down with blabbing my shit all over the place. But know that it was a place full of towns that were supposed to be quaint but that I found sort of horrifying, and also old people. Tons of fucking old people.
Our neighbors were not old people, but I counted them as such because they didn't have any kids. They also weren't very friendly, and I always interpreted that as a sign of old age curmudgeony. What they did have going for them was a sweet vegetable garden with which I was mildly obsessed from about age 3 to age 6. There was no fence between our houses, but I was definitely not allowed to go investigate what the curmudgeony neighbors were doing over there. So often I just sat and watched them garden from afar, hoping that my very sincere interest would be rewarded with some sort of response. This was one of two periods of my life in which I was acutely interested in Science, and I was really determined to figure out plants.* We didn't have much going on in our yard, so the next-door neighbors were my best bet.
The husband curmudgeon did most or all of the gardening. He was always out there milling about, pulling weeds, picking vegetables, plotting against squirrels. Also, he was smoking cigars pretty much nonstop. And so forever after I have truly mixed up those two smells: when I smell cigars, I think I am smelling green beans and peas; when I smell peas, I think I am smelling cigars.
The only time I got to go hang out in the garden was the week their extended family came to visit. One of the kids was roughly my age and we got along okay. Her name was Sally, and she would have me over to eat fresh sugar snap peas right off the plant. More important but totally unrelated to peas and cigars, she had this amazing t-shirt I coveted but was never allowed to get myself - a blue ringer tee with Blueberries for Sal on the front. I don't even remember what that book was about, but I know I loved it.
OK blog. I can't promise I'll post again soon. But I can promise that I'll eat more pea shoots all summer.
*My interest in science is also the reason I once got grounded for hoarding apple seeds and then during some unstructured free time planting them all over the yard. Obviously none grew, but there were trenches in the yard forever after where grass wouldn't grow. My plan really backfired.
Right now if you looked in my window you would see me shoveling salad into my face as fast as possible. Stupid ruffage requires so much chewing, but it's a labor of love because it's springtime and all sorts of produce is suddenly in season and everything tastes fresh and crunchy and flavorful and delicious.
One of the things on my salad is pea shoots by far my favorite of the sprout-type things. Nonetheless their taste is always so confusing to me because I'm pretty sure some wires got crossed in the sensory department when I was a small child. Pea shoots taste like, well, pea shoots, but they also taste like cigars.
Let me explain.
I grew up in the suburbs, except not really, because there wasn't an "urb" for miles and miles and miles. But I say "suburb" because it definitely wasn't the country. I could tell you where it was, but I'm not going to do that because the internet is full of weirdos and I'm not too down with blabbing my shit all over the place. But know that it was a place full of towns that were supposed to be quaint but that I found sort of horrifying, and also old people. Tons of fucking old people.
Our neighbors were not old people, but I counted them as such because they didn't have any kids. They also weren't very friendly, and I always interpreted that as a sign of old age curmudgeony. What they did have going for them was a sweet vegetable garden with which I was mildly obsessed from about age 3 to age 6. There was no fence between our houses, but I was definitely not allowed to go investigate what the curmudgeony neighbors were doing over there. So often I just sat and watched them garden from afar, hoping that my very sincere interest would be rewarded with some sort of response. This was one of two periods of my life in which I was acutely interested in Science, and I was really determined to figure out plants.* We didn't have much going on in our yard, so the next-door neighbors were my best bet.
The husband curmudgeon did most or all of the gardening. He was always out there milling about, pulling weeds, picking vegetables, plotting against squirrels. Also, he was smoking cigars pretty much nonstop. And so forever after I have truly mixed up those two smells: when I smell cigars, I think I am smelling green beans and peas; when I smell peas, I think I am smelling cigars.
The only time I got to go hang out in the garden was the week their extended family came to visit. One of the kids was roughly my age and we got along okay. Her name was Sally, and she would have me over to eat fresh sugar snap peas right off the plant. More important but totally unrelated to peas and cigars, she had this amazing t-shirt I coveted but was never allowed to get myself - a blue ringer tee with Blueberries for Sal on the front. I don't even remember what that book was about, but I know I loved it.
OK blog. I can't promise I'll post again soon. But I can promise that I'll eat more pea shoots all summer.
*My interest in science is also the reason I once got grounded for hoarding apple seeds and then during some unstructured free time planting them all over the yard. Obviously none grew, but there were trenches in the yard forever after where grass wouldn't grow. My plan really backfired.
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