The following is an example of local news and small town legislation at its finest. This succinct article belabors its two points, which is that Police Chief Kerr has been suspended for 30 days without pay (NEWS) and that they're not telling us why ( a different kind of NEWS).
And they say there are no secrets in small towns.
http://www.lehighvalleylive.com/slate-belt/index.ssf/2010/12/bangor_police_chief_glenn_kerr.html
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Someone's reading Ayn Rand
I cast aside my novel- silly bourgeois habit anyhow, reading- and don my work uniform. I am about to go and join the ranks of the proletarian dictatorship. Somehow I will preserve my individuality. My life is my own.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Bright lights, big city
How strange to live in a place where
Upon observing from my window a bright orb
I thought, "What a powerful security light that is,
And how paranoid my neighbor must be,"
Only to realize,
What I saw was the moon.
Upon observing from my window a bright orb
I thought, "What a powerful security light that is,
And how paranoid my neighbor must be,"
Only to realize,
What I saw was the moon.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Anticlimactic Case of a Serial Robber
After over a year of working at my little North Philadelphia Subway, the inevidable took place, in a most dissappointing way. Someone finally tried to rob us.
A man came in and waited in line holding a bag of chips for about 10 minutes. Lacey finally noticed him and asked if all he wanted was the chips. He said yes, so she asked Shahidah to go and ring him up. When they got to the register, he told Shahida that he had a gun in his pocket and to be quite and not make a scene, but give him all of the money from the drawer. Shahidah being the crazy bitch she is, loudly said no and told him to get out. They argued for a little bit, but people began to notice what was happening and the fool just left (he even left the chips and said, "You can keep these.") How generous of him.
As if that wasn't ghetto enough, he went down the street and tried the same stunt at 7-11 and Hollywood Shoes. The latter of which was where police caught up with him and arrested him. As my friend Sean observed, he must have been thinking of the adage, "If at first you don't succeeed, try try again." He seemed to have misinterpreted "succeed."
A man came in and waited in line holding a bag of chips for about 10 minutes. Lacey finally noticed him and asked if all he wanted was the chips. He said yes, so she asked Shahidah to go and ring him up. When they got to the register, he told Shahida that he had a gun in his pocket and to be quite and not make a scene, but give him all of the money from the drawer. Shahidah being the crazy bitch she is, loudly said no and told him to get out. They argued for a little bit, but people began to notice what was happening and the fool just left (he even left the chips and said, "You can keep these.") How generous of him.
As if that wasn't ghetto enough, he went down the street and tried the same stunt at 7-11 and Hollywood Shoes. The latter of which was where police caught up with him and arrested him. As my friend Sean observed, he must have been thinking of the adage, "If at first you don't succeeed, try try again." He seemed to have misinterpreted "succeed."
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Singing in the rain
"Do you want a more perfect and more peaceful world?"
I looked up, blinking against the rain, to see who was adressing me so.
A woman was leaning out of a shiny black Escalade, trying simultaneously to hand me a tract and preserve her arm from what she must have taken for acid rain of the most dangerous sort.
The, now damp, pamphlet persumably held the secret meaning of life.
It sounds like a trick question though, "Do you want a more perfect and peaceful world?" but the look in her earnest face, the hunger in her eyes- For what? My acceptance of her paper and the message within? My soul?-told me that she was serious; as serious as a woman on a mission to save the planet and all the drowning humans aboard.
As I walked by, enjoying the feeling of each water droplet on my skin, my feet splashing through puddles, I wondered if god was going to stop the rain so that she could get out of the car and spread the good news. I hoped not.
I looked up, blinking against the rain, to see who was adressing me so.
A woman was leaning out of a shiny black Escalade, trying simultaneously to hand me a tract and preserve her arm from what she must have taken for acid rain of the most dangerous sort.
The, now damp, pamphlet persumably held the secret meaning of life.
It sounds like a trick question though, "Do you want a more perfect and peaceful world?" but the look in her earnest face, the hunger in her eyes- For what? My acceptance of her paper and the message within? My soul?-told me that she was serious; as serious as a woman on a mission to save the planet and all the drowning humans aboard.
As I walked by, enjoying the feeling of each water droplet on my skin, my feet splashing through puddles, I wondered if god was going to stop the rain so that she could get out of the car and spread the good news. I hoped not.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
A cheap excuse for a post or Desperate times
Anyone who knows me personally is most likely aware that I am a proud expert at saving money. *Cough cheap *cough cough; I got it. I know the value of a dollar- I also know how cheesy that sounds, k thanks. Now that you're done mocking me, I thought you might benefit from some of my money saving tricks. The first step to being thrifty like me, is to recognize the difference between needs and wants, or, luxuries. Figure out what you need and then try not to spend money on anything else. Here are some of the things on my "needs" list, and how to fulfill them on the cheap.
Food: Get a job that feeds you, such as Subway Eat Fresh.
Coffee: Make it yourself and then carry it around in a hot liquids paper cup stolen from, or recycled (reused) from somewhere, such as Subway Eat Fresh or Sev.
Books/Movies: One word, LIBRARY. Use it or lose it.
Alcohol: Be a female, exploit said femininity and call it empowerment, drink for free. Don't judge, a lady never pays for the beer she consumes in a keg stand. This lady also never wears a skirt to parties.
"Shelter": The world is a cold, dark place, especially for people who like to keep their heating and electricity bills down. Grab a coat and scarf ( socks, glittens, hats, snuggies), eat some carrots, bundle up and get used to it.
As is so often the case, the words of the wise Ms. Tyra Banks come to mind. She is constantly spewing the advice that if they ask for money, it's likely a scam. Sure she may be talking about the modeling industry, but really, this can apply to anything. If it costs money, be suspicious. Did I mention the useful nature of free samples?
Food: Get a job that feeds you, such as Subway Eat Fresh.
Coffee: Make it yourself and then carry it around in a hot liquids paper cup stolen from, or recycled (reused) from somewhere, such as Subway Eat Fresh or Sev.
Books/Movies: One word, LIBRARY. Use it or lose it.
Alcohol: Be a female, exploit said femininity and call it empowerment, drink for free. Don't judge, a lady never pays for the beer she consumes in a keg stand. This lady also never wears a skirt to parties.
"Shelter": The world is a cold, dark place, especially for people who like to keep their heating and electricity bills down. Grab a coat and scarf ( socks, glittens, hats, snuggies), eat some carrots, bundle up and get used to it.
As is so often the case, the words of the wise Ms. Tyra Banks come to mind. She is constantly spewing the advice that if they ask for money, it's likely a scam. Sure she may be talking about the modeling industry, but really, this can apply to anything. If it costs money, be suspicious. Did I mention the useful nature of free samples?
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Coffee, coffee, coffee (it's an expression)
Well, I'm not going to admit to slacking off on you guys. Why, you ask, would I be so bold as to not only not apologize, but present an anti-apology? Because I am always right and also because I am about to try and play it off like I was compiling research this whole time and therefore couldn't post until I had some worthwhile information to share.
For the past few weeks I have been collecting data on the very important topic of local coffee spots. Those of you in the Temple University area are likely familiar with all of the many options presented daily on the coffee front. Between the food trucks, the huts, the Anderson food strip, the SAC and other campus offerings (*cough Einstein monopoly), it is difficult to find that perfect cup without doing some serious sipping. Luckily, you have me, and here are my notes from the week:
Monday: Ali's
To be fair, Ali's has become my regular Monday/Wednesday/Friday jolt, so I may be a little bias, but I will stand by my assertion that Ali makes a good cup of coffee. He is also by far the friendliest of the coffee providers and between his smile and the $1 cup, you're morning will definitely begin on the right foot. He also knows my order and I might enjoy his usual quip of "Extra sweet for extra sweetheart," but who doesn't love a man (of any age) with an accent?
Tuesday: Tommy's food truck (located outside Tomlinson theater by Peabody Hall)
As loyal as my heart is to Ali, so far this is the best cup of coffee I've sampled. It was super strong and nutty but in that good bold way. The woman was neutral, but at least she smiled and accepted my dollar coin without comment (c'mon, SEPTA, duh).
Wednesday: Saxby's (aka my first day cheating on Ali)
All I have to say about Saxby's is OVERPRICED. Seriously, get a life.
Thursday: The Bagel Hut
Again, I may be bias here because I wrote an article about The Bagel Hut freshman year and the owner was extremely helpful and kind. However, anyone who has ever been to The Bagel Hut could tell you that the owner is extremely helpful and kind. Her sunny demeanor is a big draw for many of their loyal customers- that is, when she's serving food and not chain smoking in the back; we all have our vices. The coffee was good, but I was not entirely convinced they took my "Extra cream" request to heart. I do see a lot of people with their cups though, so clearly they are popular; perhaps too popular as the line is always ridiculously long.
Friday: The hut outside the library
For the past few weeks I have been collecting data on the very important topic of local coffee spots. Those of you in the Temple University area are likely familiar with all of the many options presented daily on the coffee front. Between the food trucks, the huts, the Anderson food strip, the SAC and other campus offerings (*cough Einstein monopoly), it is difficult to find that perfect cup without doing some serious sipping. Luckily, you have me, and here are my notes from the week:
Monday: Ali's
To be fair, Ali's has become my regular Monday/Wednesday/Friday jolt, so I may be a little bias, but I will stand by my assertion that Ali makes a good cup of coffee. He is also by far the friendliest of the coffee providers and between his smile and the $1 cup, you're morning will definitely begin on the right foot. He also knows my order and I might enjoy his usual quip of "Extra sweet for extra sweetheart," but who doesn't love a man (of any age) with an accent?
Tuesday: Tommy's food truck (located outside Tomlinson theater by Peabody Hall)
As loyal as my heart is to Ali, so far this is the best cup of coffee I've sampled. It was super strong and nutty but in that good bold way. The woman was neutral, but at least she smiled and accepted my dollar coin without comment (c'mon, SEPTA, duh).
Wednesday: Saxby's (aka my first day cheating on Ali)
All I have to say about Saxby's is OVERPRICED. Seriously, get a life.
Thursday: The Bagel Hut
Again, I may be bias here because I wrote an article about The Bagel Hut freshman year and the owner was extremely helpful and kind. However, anyone who has ever been to The Bagel Hut could tell you that the owner is extremely helpful and kind. Her sunny demeanor is a big draw for many of their loyal customers- that is, when she's serving food and not chain smoking in the back; we all have our vices. The coffee was good, but I was not entirely convinced they took my "Extra cream" request to heart. I do see a lot of people with their cups though, so clearly they are popular; perhaps too popular as the line is always ridiculously long.
Friday: The hut outside the library
This coffee came highly recommended by a fellow coffee conosiour- word for addicts who want to sound fancy- Namarata, a Subway coworker. I will say this, the coffee was good and EXTREMELY HOT. However, the service totally blew it for me. The couple who owns the stand wouldn't know a smile if it smacked them in the face. Namarata was willing to forgive them this on the basis that they are European, but I am less merciful. Every one of these and basically all of the food joints around here are owned and operated by someone foreign and it doesn't take a lot to learn, "Have a nice day." If you don't mind unfriendly people at 8 am, enjoy their brew (cautiously), but for me, their service was a total buzz kill.
I also feel that I should give 7-11 a shout out. As a poor college student, I utilize their 99 cent after noon special at least once a day. I myself enjoy being able to add the cream and sugar to my own taste. I also think they have good coffee and appreciate their location right next to Subway.
Stay tuned for more...hopefully...bah, just stay tuned!
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Come back when you can
As I passed a guy on the street he said, "Hey there, Supermodel."
I thought he was talking to me until I heard a voice behind me say, "Thanks."
I looked over my shoulder to scope my compliment competition and saw a middle aged black woman with purple streaks in her graying hair. Her plussed grin revealed a few missing teeth and she was wearing black and white checkered tights.
Half a block later a guy said, "Hey, how are you."
I said, "I'm fine, thanks."
And he said, "You just made my day."
The world makes sense again.
I thought he was talking to me until I heard a voice behind me say, "Thanks."
I looked over my shoulder to scope my compliment competition and saw a middle aged black woman with purple streaks in her graying hair. Her plussed grin revealed a few missing teeth and she was wearing black and white checkered tights.
Half a block later a guy said, "Hey, how are you."
I said, "I'm fine, thanks."
And he said, "You just made my day."
The world makes sense again.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Mad besties (revised)
If when I look for friends,
I find trouble,
does the opposite hold true?
If I look for trouble,
will I find you?
I find trouble,
does the opposite hold true?
If I look for trouble,
will I find you?
Friday, October 8, 2010
Would you like fries with that?
The old saying goes, "There's no such thing as a stupid question." While I agree with this message for the most part, there is a limit to the number of times I can graciously respond to the same stupid questions in the kingdom of Subway Eat Fresh. Here are some of the questions that I'm talking about:
Customer- How big is the footlong?
What I say- 12 inches, or I show them the roll
What I want to say- See my thumb? Gee you're dumb
Me- Would you like to add a drink to make that a meal?
Customer- Is it cheaper?
What I say- No, it's not numerically cheaper, but if you want a drink, it's a better deal to get the meal.
What I want to say- Oh yeah, Einstein, that's how commerce works, the more of our products you buy the less we charge you. If you're really smart, maybe you can just keep purchasing things until the whole meal is free.
Customer- Are all the footlongs five dollars?
What I say- No, we now offer select footlongs for five dollars, which are shown on this menu here (points genially).
What I want to say- Can you read? If not, I'd be happy to answer this question, if so however, stop being so lazy and use your eyes.
This also goes for "Do yout take diamond dollars?" to which I want to say, "Did you come in through the door? Because there's a sign at eye level saying we do. Use them eyes your momma gave you."
Me- Would you like Banana peppers or jalepenos?
Customer- Are they the same thing?
What I say- No, the banana peppers here (points helpfully) are milder than the jalepenos, which are over here (points again, how accomodating)
What I want to say- Yeah, they are
Customer- Do you take access cards
What I say- Sorry, we don't actually
What I want to say- Seriously?
This next one may seem too stupid to believe, but I swear on the sanctity of this blog that it is a true story...
Customer- (painfully flirting whole way through line and reaches end)
Me- Would you like anything else?
What I want to say- Would you like anything else, perv?
Customer- Your name
Me- What? (nervous laughter)
Customer- What time do you get off work?
Me- I'm here till closing
What I want to say- None of your business, Creep
Customer- What are you doing after work?
Me- I don't know, I have plans with some friends for later.
What I want to say- Go away please
Customer- Well, maybe I can buy you a sandwich sometime
Me/What I want to say (c'mon, I held it together for a long time here)- Are you seriously offering to buy me a sandwich? You're trying to take me on a date to Subway? You realize I work here, right? Get real.
There are so many more, but I'm blanking at the moment. This lack of brain power can only be attributed to one thing: a Friday night closing shift.
Customer- How big is the footlong?
What I say- 12 inches, or I show them the roll
What I want to say- See my thumb? Gee you're dumb
Me- Would you like to add a drink to make that a meal?
Customer- Is it cheaper?
What I say- No, it's not numerically cheaper, but if you want a drink, it's a better deal to get the meal.
What I want to say- Oh yeah, Einstein, that's how commerce works, the more of our products you buy the less we charge you. If you're really smart, maybe you can just keep purchasing things until the whole meal is free.
Customer- Are all the footlongs five dollars?
What I say- No, we now offer select footlongs for five dollars, which are shown on this menu here (points genially).
What I want to say- Can you read? If not, I'd be happy to answer this question, if so however, stop being so lazy and use your eyes.
This also goes for "Do yout take diamond dollars?" to which I want to say, "Did you come in through the door? Because there's a sign at eye level saying we do. Use them eyes your momma gave you."
Me- Would you like Banana peppers or jalepenos?
Customer- Are they the same thing?
What I say- No, the banana peppers here (points helpfully) are milder than the jalepenos, which are over here (points again, how accomodating)
What I want to say- Yeah, they are
Customer- Do you take access cards
What I say- Sorry, we don't actually
What I want to say- Seriously?
This next one may seem too stupid to believe, but I swear on the sanctity of this blog that it is a true story...
Customer- (painfully flirting whole way through line and reaches end)
Me- Would you like anything else?
What I want to say- Would you like anything else, perv?
Customer- Your name
Me- What? (nervous laughter)
Customer- What time do you get off work?
Me- I'm here till closing
What I want to say- None of your business, Creep
Customer- What are you doing after work?
Me- I don't know, I have plans with some friends for later.
What I want to say- Go away please
Customer- Well, maybe I can buy you a sandwich sometime
Me/What I want to say (c'mon, I held it together for a long time here)- Are you seriously offering to buy me a sandwich? You're trying to take me on a date to Subway? You realize I work here, right? Get real.
There are so many more, but I'm blanking at the moment. This lack of brain power can only be attributed to one thing: a Friday night closing shift.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Just Keep Smiling
Stargazing. Being greeted by dogs. Getting a just the right phone call from just the right person at just the right time. When you realize you're reading someone's mind, or they're reading yours. Inside jokes. When someone quotes something that you love. When someone recognizes a quote you use. An extraordinary cup of coffee. A compliment. Physical contact. Being reminded that you are loved. Getting a present. The Marx Brothers. A great voice. Being recognized. Mattering to someone. Doing something nice for someone else. Feeling like someone is taking care of you. Getting mail. Sending mail. Finding something you lost, or thought you lost. Warmth. Seeing people who are really in love. Remembering. Sleeping, finally making it to bed after a long day. Feeling accepted and loved by anyone, anywhere. Looking at pictures. Being appreciated. A hug. Hearing a song that brings back happy memories. When a smell reminds you of something, or someone. Knowing just what to do for someone to lighten their load. Realizing that your family is important. Looking at the big picture. Having someone say they'll always be there and then they always are. Flowers. Undying love that overwhelms. Being young. Being alive.
Monday, October 4, 2010
To a self-proclaimed "Fat Asshole"
Today was a rough day, but not as bad as I expected and undoubtably not as bad as tomorrow will be. One year ago today, October 5, Jimmy Krasely, the first friend I made here at Temple died. He is dead- funny how that works. I guess don't really know what this one year mark really means. Of course, I'll always think about him a lot at this time of year, but I think about him a lot all the time. I will say that the year went fast. Here's some of what my journal entry from one year ago today said:
"It feels totally unreal. When Mollie started to tell me I knew what she was going to say when she asked if I'd heard about Jimmy. I asked what she meant even though of course I knew. I didn't know what else to say."
I remember her face so vividly. I hadn't heard anything until she told me, but her face said it all. I didn't really have to ask, and I knew I sounded dumb.
"Jimmy will be okay, he's always doing stupid things, but he's okay. I can just tell him he's stupid and to be more careful and he'll tell me that I'm straight edge."
"I wish I could speak for him. To tell-who? The world? Fate? Death? God?- that they don't need to worry about Jimmy. He doesn't mean anything by it, he's just a kid. He needs a few more chances, but he's okay. He's screwing around, but it's just Jimmy. Get it?!?!?!? That's Jimmy, he can do stupid stuff and be okay, that's who he is! Listen! He'll be okay, he'll figure it out, just be patient with him. Leave him alone. He's too important!"
I'm still overwhelmed when I think about his worth in this world.
"Jimmy was my first real friend in college. I was walking by his room and he called out to me. We talked and he thought I was weird and I loved that finally someone saw me. Someone was really getting to know me. We went to that concert. We went to South Street. I asked him if Mike was a creep or rapist. I sat in the hall and talked about life with him. About infidelity, the future, socialism (a resource based economy). He made everyone laugh. He made me feel like I mattered. Even if I wasn't cool, I still belonged because no one is cool. Even guys like Jimmy who played football and smoked weed and partied and listened to cool music were nerds too."
I remember going up to him and asking him about our friend Mike who I met at the same time as Jimmy. I remember saying, "If you're lying to me and something bad happens to me, you're going to feel really bad, so you better just think about that." God I was lame.
The first day I met Jimmy he said to me, "You're a cynical bitch." And I remember thinking, finally someone here gets me. Someone here cares. That someone was Jimmy.
"It sucks that no matter what I do, we do, he won't know," I wrote. "He won't know what we're all feeling. He won't know how many people go to his funeral or join his facebook groups. He won't know how much he meant to me."
I learned a lot from Jimmy, and still am learning. One thing that sticks out that I learned from losing Jimmy was something Ruth Ost said. She said that when someone dies, everyone feels an ownership on a piece of the grief pie. I think that's true and important. I know that many people were much closer to Jimmy than I was. Many people knew him for longer and knew him better. Jimmy was a unique person because anyone who met him, even briefly, would mourn him greatly. He gave of himself freely.
You remember what that lantern I sent you said, Jimmy? It's still true. (Also, please don't think I'm a bad friend, but that Beatles poster you gave me got wet and ruined. I don't think you'd mind because you thought Ringo was too ugly to look at anyway. I still have part of it. I wish I had our post-it notes.)
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Hakuna Matata
Wow, I almost got confused for a second and thought I could pose a question to my blog readers...but then I realized I have no blog readers. The question was going to be, what are some of your mottos or words you live by? I have many, which manifest themselves in various ways at various times or situations in my life. After all, it's all cyclical (there's a good one for ya). I sometimes try to come up with a few overarching ones that I seem to fall back to most often. One is, "Love hard, when there is love to be had." This is one of my most central beliefs.
In wading through my many mantras, I notice the trend towards a "let it be" philosophy. "So it goes," "It is what it is," and the song "What I Got" by Sublime all fall into this category. And yet I wonder, are these words I actively live by, or are they what I strive for? In day to day instances, I feel that I embody this attitude. I feel that I maintain a calm demeanor about most things. I get called into work on my day off, "so it goes." I have to deal with a particularly stupid customer at Subway, "I don't cry when my dog runs away, I don't get angry at the bills I have to pay..." sings its way into my brain.
And yet, there are many things in my life that, try as I might, I cannot approach with such a blase attitude. I want to, but I can't always bring the cool.
In these instances, my twin mottos emerge, with the wise truths of passion and adventure. Here, I can even more readily admit, these words are goals, rather than constants in my life. Things like, "Life is either a daring adventure or nothing," may be what I want, but are certainly not my everyday realities.
Well, it's midnight on the dot, time to check my blog's stats and see that zero people have read this blog "today." And hey, share your mottos, folks!
In wading through my many mantras, I notice the trend towards a "let it be" philosophy. "So it goes," "It is what it is," and the song "What I Got" by Sublime all fall into this category. And yet I wonder, are these words I actively live by, or are they what I strive for? In day to day instances, I feel that I embody this attitude. I feel that I maintain a calm demeanor about most things. I get called into work on my day off, "so it goes." I have to deal with a particularly stupid customer at Subway, "I don't cry when my dog runs away, I don't get angry at the bills I have to pay..." sings its way into my brain.
And yet, there are many things in my life that, try as I might, I cannot approach with such a blase attitude. I want to, but I can't always bring the cool.
In these instances, my twin mottos emerge, with the wise truths of passion and adventure. Here, I can even more readily admit, these words are goals, rather than constants in my life. Things like, "Life is either a daring adventure or nothing," may be what I want, but are certainly not my everyday realities.
Well, it's midnight on the dot, time to check my blog's stats and see that zero people have read this blog "today." And hey, share your mottos, folks!
Friday, October 1, 2010
Inspired by Eminem
They had the dynamic of gasoline and a lit match. They both played both roles well, each in turn. When he was the wallowing, puddle on the floor, she was there- always there- ready to set the fire that would engulf them both. Likewise, when her mood melted into that liquid fuel stage, he had the lighter poised and ready.
It was difficult to say why they did it. Maybe, in some weird way, they enjoyed it; all of it, the smell of burning hair, the sizzling, popping, broiling flesh, their bones incinerating. It has its appeal. Maybe neither of them knew anything else.
People warned them of course, their friends and families.
"Those who play with fire get burned," they'd say.
Does a lit match have ears for the wise words of loved ones?
Does gas give a fuck?
It was difficult to say why they did it. Maybe, in some weird way, they enjoyed it; all of it, the smell of burning hair, the sizzling, popping, broiling flesh, their bones incinerating. It has its appeal. Maybe neither of them knew anything else.
People warned them of course, their friends and families.
"Those who play with fire get burned," they'd say.
Does a lit match have ears for the wise words of loved ones?
Does gas give a fuck?
Thursday, September 30, 2010
I think I'm getting saner
Wow, four girls just came into Subway and all ordered the same thing.
Oh, of course, they're part of the Spicy Italian club. Didn't you notice the pink bows in their hair? That signifies their membership into this cult.
Oh, that makes sense.
The guy behind them in line forgot to wear his bow, so he had to get his Spicy Italian with American cheese, instead of provolone, and got it toasted. The club also refused to acknowledge him. That's the rub.
Oh, of course, they're part of the Spicy Italian club. Didn't you notice the pink bows in their hair? That signifies their membership into this cult.
Oh, that makes sense.
The guy behind them in line forgot to wear his bow, so he had to get his Spicy Italian with American cheese, instead of provolone, and got it toasted. The club also refused to acknowledge him. That's the rub.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Tyra says...
Yesterday I did something tres embarrassing, which I am only posting about on here because I have the preordained knowledge that no one reads this. Actually, 11 people do. Who are you?
Anyway, I know you're dying to know what I could possibly be embarrassed to admit to; well, here it is, I attended a modeling casting call. As I was walking through the city, trying to find the location, I stumbled upon a building I have long hoped to explore here in Philadelphia. In fact, it might be the landmark I most sought after. I saw it, looming in the distance, and immediately recognized the former home of my all time favorite, 6 strangers, picked to live in house and find out what happens when people stop being polite and start getting real. So many memories came flooding back to me when I saw the restored bank. I also noticed that a bunch of people were lined up outside, but I simply assumed it was a great photo op. However, after continuing for a ways, I realized that was the very TRUST building that I was looking for. I was going to get to go INSIDE the house! I did get to go inside!
The modeling itself is not something I am keen to share. Suffice it to say I wore heels and had to speak in front of over 200 people. Neither of these speak to any of my talents (swimming and sandwich making, nothing more, nothing less...unless you count blogging, but that's for you, oh Reader, to decide).
But, the bottom line is, that I was in the Real World Philadelphia house. I was barefoot inside the house- they made me take off my shoes to determine that I am, in fact, that ever feared 72 inches in height.
What can you take from this post? Two secrets that should never leave this sacred space: that I once walked a runway and that I am 6 feet tall.
Anyway, I know you're dying to know what I could possibly be embarrassed to admit to; well, here it is, I attended a modeling casting call. As I was walking through the city, trying to find the location, I stumbled upon a building I have long hoped to explore here in Philadelphia. In fact, it might be the landmark I most sought after. I saw it, looming in the distance, and immediately recognized the former home of my all time favorite, 6 strangers, picked to live in house and find out what happens when people stop being polite and start getting real. So many memories came flooding back to me when I saw the restored bank. I also noticed that a bunch of people were lined up outside, but I simply assumed it was a great photo op. However, after continuing for a ways, I realized that was the very TRUST building that I was looking for. I was going to get to go INSIDE the house! I did get to go inside!
The modeling itself is not something I am keen to share. Suffice it to say I wore heels and had to speak in front of over 200 people. Neither of these speak to any of my talents (swimming and sandwich making, nothing more, nothing less...unless you count blogging, but that's for you, oh Reader, to decide).
But, the bottom line is, that I was in the Real World Philadelphia house. I was barefoot inside the house- they made me take off my shoes to determine that I am, in fact, that ever feared 72 inches in height.
What can you take from this post? Two secrets that should never leave this sacred space: that I once walked a runway and that I am 6 feet tall.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
More reasons to not go to The Pearl
You all think getting your news from me is bad, well, here's an example of how I find out the local scoop.
Last night at approximately 9:45, the self dubbed "bedouin" on the block came running into Subway.
"Yo, ya'll seeing the crazy shit going down out here, take a look out here man, some crazy shit. Down there by the movie theater, ya know the one? Where all them kids come on the weekend. All the white shirts are over there. Then all the girls are running. You know, the girls with the short shorts up to here. It's like, I don't want to see your panities man. What happened was the young bull did some dumb shit and then the old fellow pulled out his gun and he starts shooting. Shooting right into them kids and then he chased. That young bull did a dumb thing. He chased him back into the parking lot. Man, the bullets are flying. He could have been shot. I don't know man. Can I chill here?"
And that's how I found out that all the crazy noise and gun shots and screaming were because of said shooting.
I have to say though, Philly.com is not a whole lot more informative,and certainly not as colorful:
http://www.philly.com/philly/news/breaking/20100924_Two_teens_critical_after_shooting.html
Last night at approximately 9:45, the self dubbed "bedouin" on the block came running into Subway.
"Yo, ya'll seeing the crazy shit going down out here, take a look out here man, some crazy shit. Down there by the movie theater, ya know the one? Where all them kids come on the weekend. All the white shirts are over there. Then all the girls are running. You know, the girls with the short shorts up to here. It's like, I don't want to see your panities man. What happened was the young bull did some dumb shit and then the old fellow pulled out his gun and he starts shooting. Shooting right into them kids and then he chased. That young bull did a dumb thing. He chased him back into the parking lot. Man, the bullets are flying. He could have been shot. I don't know man. Can I chill here?"
And that's how I found out that all the crazy noise and gun shots and screaming were because of said shooting.
I have to say though, Philly.com is not a whole lot more informative,and certainly not as colorful:
http://www.philly.com/philly/news/breaking/20100924_Two_teens_critical_after_shooting.html
Thursday, September 23, 2010
A Penny Saved
No matter how you flip the coin,
I lose,
There’s a heart shaped hole,
Where you used to be,
Emptiness on both sides.
I lose,
There’s a heart shaped hole,
Where you used to be,
Emptiness on both sides.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
A Watery Grave
I know you guys are getting all dried out as summer fades and my pool-related posts dwindle- don't look back to see if I ever posted about the pool. Fear not though, Pearson pool at Temple University will help me fulfill your thirst for some splashy news.
Seriously though, my skin is really dry. Is this a seasonal thing?
Anyway, seeing as I am a woman of few skills, four of my six jobs consist of sitting by a pool watching people swim and hoping they don't drown. I'm a very hopeful person. Pearson pool stands out as the only indoor pool I work at. It is used primarily for lap-swim and swim classes. Up until recently, the pool complex consisted of two lap pools and a diving well, however, the diving well is currently under construction and the plan is to change it into a lecture hall-who'd of thunk?
A 15 foot pool of water has a sort of eery quality, but that's nothing compared to a 15 foot hole in the ground.
This post is dead in the water, do not resuscitate.
Seriously though, my skin is really dry. Is this a seasonal thing?
Anyway, seeing as I am a woman of few skills, four of my six jobs consist of sitting by a pool watching people swim and hoping they don't drown. I'm a very hopeful person. Pearson pool stands out as the only indoor pool I work at. It is used primarily for lap-swim and swim classes. Up until recently, the pool complex consisted of two lap pools and a diving well, however, the diving well is currently under construction and the plan is to change it into a lecture hall-who'd of thunk?
A 15 foot pool of water has a sort of eery quality, but that's nothing compared to a 15 foot hole in the ground.
This post is dead in the water, do not resuscitate.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Morning Glory
Open your eyes,
I see
the sunrise.
These beauties greet me every morning and are often the friendliest faces I see all day.
(photos by Emily Elizabeth)
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Colour me Kubrick
Well, I know you are all dying to hear about the weekend of your favorite no-life blogger- yeah, Dad, you know I'm your favorite...blogger that is. In fact, I am eager to share my weekend with you all in the hopes that you will take a very valuable, albeit slightly impractical, lesson from it. Drum-roll please, the lesson of the day is, if anyone ever asks you to go to the midnight showing of 2001 A Space Odyssey, don't go.
In my case, the lesson should be, if you are considering asking people to go with you to the midnight showing of 2001 A Space Odyssey, don't! Friends are valuable, and this is a good way to lose a few. This experience made me thankful to be a girl, if only for the fact that, were I a guy, two of my three male companions to said midnight movie extravaganza would doubtless have kicked my ass.
I realize that you don't read my blog for my movie or book recommendations, but, if you do read this, you probobly don't read it for any particular reason at all besides perhaps intense boredom, so I'm sure you won't mind me placing my two cents in on Kubrick's masterpiece. I am a huge fan of old movies. I am a huge fan of intellectual movies. I am even a fan of trippy movies. But, allowing for a certain skew of opinion based on the intelligence of sitting down to a 2 and 1/2 hour, intellectual, trippy movie at midnight and also my particularly deep hatred of space, I can and will dare to say that I will die happily never seeing this movie again. I am willing to admit that I am nowhere near qualified to weigh in on the actual content of the film- whatever said content is exactly- but I merely offer you this small token of advice.
On the other hand, biking across Philly at 3:30 in the morning is a worthwhile activity, and if it takes a midnight movie to inspire said persuit, so be it.
In my case, the lesson should be, if you are considering asking people to go with you to the midnight showing of 2001 A Space Odyssey, don't! Friends are valuable, and this is a good way to lose a few. This experience made me thankful to be a girl, if only for the fact that, were I a guy, two of my three male companions to said midnight movie extravaganza would doubtless have kicked my ass.
I realize that you don't read my blog for my movie or book recommendations, but, if you do read this, you probobly don't read it for any particular reason at all besides perhaps intense boredom, so I'm sure you won't mind me placing my two cents in on Kubrick's masterpiece. I am a huge fan of old movies. I am a huge fan of intellectual movies. I am even a fan of trippy movies. But, allowing for a certain skew of opinion based on the intelligence of sitting down to a 2 and 1/2 hour, intellectual, trippy movie at midnight and also my particularly deep hatred of space, I can and will dare to say that I will die happily never seeing this movie again. I am willing to admit that I am nowhere near qualified to weigh in on the actual content of the film- whatever said content is exactly- but I merely offer you this small token of advice.
On the other hand, biking across Philly at 3:30 in the morning is a worthwhile activity, and if it takes a midnight movie to inspire said persuit, so be it.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Things always look better in the morning
I wish I could write what it looks like. If I could only capture the deep contrast between day and night, then maybe you would know. If I could I would pen the image of the sunlight on this page as it filters down through the tree above; how it shifts and flows as the leaves blow slightly, the shadows mirroring the movement.
When it's daytime, and you sit alone, back against a tree writing-always writing- and youlook up, you realize you're not alone. To everyone walking by, you're a part of the scenery. Students pass by, laughing as they recount the glorious tales of their Friday night, memories aged only a few hours, the humor not fully fermented, but enough to cause bubbles of laughter among those who appreciate that sort of thing. To them, you're one of them. Sure you may be one of the weird ones, but you're here, so you're alright. You're just the typical; the token, coffee drinking, notebook writing, bare feet, leaning on a tree college kid-you're alright.
But at night, oh, God help you at night. As you walk, alone, quickly, against the current of the sticky alcohol stream, the babbling passers-by all know. Maybe if you tried you could hide it. Even if you lit a cigarrette and met their eyes, then you'd be alright.
I'd write it for you now, but it's day so it is- I am- alright.
When it's daytime, and you sit alone, back against a tree writing-always writing- and youlook up, you realize you're not alone. To everyone walking by, you're a part of the scenery. Students pass by, laughing as they recount the glorious tales of their Friday night, memories aged only a few hours, the humor not fully fermented, but enough to cause bubbles of laughter among those who appreciate that sort of thing. To them, you're one of them. Sure you may be one of the weird ones, but you're here, so you're alright. You're just the typical; the token, coffee drinking, notebook writing, bare feet, leaning on a tree college kid-you're alright.
But at night, oh, God help you at night. As you walk, alone, quickly, against the current of the sticky alcohol stream, the babbling passers-by all know. Maybe if you tried you could hide it. Even if you lit a cigarrette and met their eyes, then you'd be alright.
I'd write it for you now, but it's day so it is- I am- alright.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Subway..now that's some weak-ass shit
Since I know you all like me to regale you with tales from the soul-sucking sandwich shop known as Subgay Eat Balls...I mean...you know what I mean, and also since I am wired on an extra large cup o' joe- thank you 7-11 for your "any size coffee for 99 cents after noon" deal, here are some thoughts on Subway deux, Philly style bay-bay.
In a quick aside, thank you to whoever keeps repeatedly listening to "Love the Way You Lie" in the apartment above me. Luckily, and I'm not too ashamed to admit this, I've been hype on this song all week. Peace and love.
Allow me to explain, first and foremost, that Subway Bangor Plaza and Subway North Philadelphia are very different places. The main difference, of course, is the clientele. While we certainly get some crazies up North in B-town, they truly have nothing on some of the characters we are expected to serve with a smile here in los ghetto. For example, there is the lovable man who comes in every two weeks or so and stands at the counter ranting in a mixture of English syllables and jibberish. Now, he fully expects us to translate whatever it is that he's conveying into a sandwich order. While this may at times be disturbing or a nuisance, depending on how the night is going, it is also a wonderful opportunity to express one's Sandwich Artist creativity. Whatever you make, you can generally convince him was exactly what he asked for. And, since, when he reaces the register he will considerately dump the contents of his pockets and wallet onto the counter, it is a pleasure to ring him up and make sure he pays the correct amount. Beware though if you make him wait to long, because in his mind, he was always there first and always has already ordered. There are no lines for this veteran- which, I might add, is the only fact I've ever gathered from his ramblings- no, sir.
Then there are the students- this is Temple after all. These customers fall across the board. We have our grunting football players- double meat all the way for these hungry athletes, hey, it's on the school's dollar anyway. There are the hipsters- don't even think about asking them to remove their Bose headphones so they can hear you ask "American, Swiss or provolone?" There are the nightly Indians- veggie sub, duh! don't forget to change your gloves and extra of all souces. The students who come in with their parents, usually freshman, who are obviously not from around here and tend to be disturbed by their fellow customers and my Sandwich Artist team. Often these will appeal to me with fearful, pleading eyes as they struggle to determine what, "You want some of this jawn, or this here?" even means. Get with the program folks, you're not in Kansas anymore, and yes, your precious baby will get shot. All of these student-customers have some things in common such as they do not know if we take Diamond dollars (look at the door, people) and they do not intend to throw their garbage in the trash can, unless the trash is already overflowing- monkey see monkey do? or, an affinity for excess?
Wow, writing that was almost as much of a chore as enduring a 9 pm rush at the Sub hub. Stop by and see me any night at this beloved place of employment. And, go ahead and do the five dollar footlong song/hand gesture, I dare you.
In a quick aside, thank you to whoever keeps repeatedly listening to "Love the Way You Lie" in the apartment above me. Luckily, and I'm not too ashamed to admit this, I've been hype on this song all week. Peace and love.
Allow me to explain, first and foremost, that Subway Bangor Plaza and Subway North Philadelphia are very different places. The main difference, of course, is the clientele. While we certainly get some crazies up North in B-town, they truly have nothing on some of the characters we are expected to serve with a smile here in los ghetto. For example, there is the lovable man who comes in every two weeks or so and stands at the counter ranting in a mixture of English syllables and jibberish. Now, he fully expects us to translate whatever it is that he's conveying into a sandwich order. While this may at times be disturbing or a nuisance, depending on how the night is going, it is also a wonderful opportunity to express one's Sandwich Artist creativity. Whatever you make, you can generally convince him was exactly what he asked for. And, since, when he reaces the register he will considerately dump the contents of his pockets and wallet onto the counter, it is a pleasure to ring him up and make sure he pays the correct amount. Beware though if you make him wait to long, because in his mind, he was always there first and always has already ordered. There are no lines for this veteran- which, I might add, is the only fact I've ever gathered from his ramblings- no, sir.
Then there are the students- this is Temple after all. These customers fall across the board. We have our grunting football players- double meat all the way for these hungry athletes, hey, it's on the school's dollar anyway. There are the hipsters- don't even think about asking them to remove their Bose headphones so they can hear you ask "American, Swiss or provolone?" There are the nightly Indians- veggie sub, duh! don't forget to change your gloves and extra of all souces. The students who come in with their parents, usually freshman, who are obviously not from around here and tend to be disturbed by their fellow customers and my Sandwich Artist team. Often these will appeal to me with fearful, pleading eyes as they struggle to determine what, "You want some of this jawn, or this here?" even means. Get with the program folks, you're not in Kansas anymore, and yes, your precious baby will get shot. All of these student-customers have some things in common such as they do not know if we take Diamond dollars (look at the door, people) and they do not intend to throw their garbage in the trash can, unless the trash is already overflowing- monkey see monkey do? or, an affinity for excess?
Wow, writing that was almost as much of a chore as enduring a 9 pm rush at the Sub hub. Stop by and see me any night at this beloved place of employment. And, go ahead and do the five dollar footlong song/hand gesture, I dare you.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Changes (No looking back)
Warning: this post is a break from the normal "newsiness" of this blog...okay, I jest. There is no norm and there is not a whole lot of news going on here. But, in any case, here is an excerpt from my life at this point in time. Talking to yourself is cathartic.
People say to look at each day as the beginning of the rest of your life. This has never been one of my personal creeds, of which there are more than a few, however it is the approach I am taking, starting now (pun intended).
I am seeking to live every day for that day; accomplishing those things that will make individual day a success unto itself. I want to throw myself into every day and attack it like it's all there is.
I want to look ahead. No more looking back. No more wasting time crying and moping about anything. Yes I have experienced incredible sadness, and also incredible joy. And, you know what, there's a whole lot more of both to come! "Life may be sad, but it's always beautiful."
I am choosing to be happy. Although I lose sight of it often, I have always held the basic belief that happiness is the sole responsibility of each individual person. It's a choice. Every day, every minute of my life is a choice. I can decide to be happy or sad. I can choose to be afraid, or I can be brave. No one can make me feel inferior without my consent.
Of course, happiness is not always an easy choice to make. Sadness is easy. It's easy to get bogged down in the selfish pain that we all experience. You have to do what makes you happy. You have to think what makes you happy. If you don't feel it, fake it until you do.
I am the author of my own destiny. "I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul."
Congratulations if you read that and still choose to associate with the Rat Queen. So perish all babblers.
People say to look at each day as the beginning of the rest of your life. This has never been one of my personal creeds, of which there are more than a few, however it is the approach I am taking, starting now (pun intended).
I am seeking to live every day for that day; accomplishing those things that will make individual day a success unto itself. I want to throw myself into every day and attack it like it's all there is.
I want to look ahead. No more looking back. No more wasting time crying and moping about anything. Yes I have experienced incredible sadness, and also incredible joy. And, you know what, there's a whole lot more of both to come! "Life may be sad, but it's always beautiful."
I am choosing to be happy. Although I lose sight of it often, I have always held the basic belief that happiness is the sole responsibility of each individual person. It's a choice. Every day, every minute of my life is a choice. I can decide to be happy or sad. I can choose to be afraid, or I can be brave. No one can make me feel inferior without my consent.
Of course, happiness is not always an easy choice to make. Sadness is easy. It's easy to get bogged down in the selfish pain that we all experience. You have to do what makes you happy. You have to think what makes you happy. If you don't feel it, fake it until you do.
I am the author of my own destiny. "I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul."
Congratulations if you read that and still choose to associate with the Rat Queen. So perish all babblers.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Inconsistantly, crying out for Consitancy
So fail-boat on the summer blogging, eh folks? Luckily, you didn't miss much- read the title.
Well, from now on, if you continue to choose to read this inconsistantly updated and self-proclaimed useless blog, you will be hearing news from of the North Philadelphia persuasion and not the Bangor, PA, as I have recently moved into my new apartment and am about to embark on my Junior year of studies at Temple University. Go Owls!
I encourage you- believe it or not- to continue to read and enjoy my posts about all the nothing that happens down here.
Sincerely,
The Rat Queen
Well, from now on, if you continue to choose to read this inconsistantly updated and self-proclaimed useless blog, you will be hearing news from of the North Philadelphia persuasion and not the Bangor, PA, as I have recently moved into my new apartment and am about to embark on my Junior year of studies at Temple University. Go Owls!
I encourage you- believe it or not- to continue to read and enjoy my posts about all the nothing that happens down here.
Sincerely,
The Rat Queen
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Subgay Part One or perhaps Food Fight Part Two
Subway is one of the few global franchises that has taken roots in Bangor, Pennsylvania (or Pen Argyl, or Roseto, or Wind Gap, depending on who you ask). Clearly everyone wants a piece of this footlong.
Unfortunately some want their sub with lettuce, tomato, onion and extra rudeness. For example, the woman who called in her order tonight while there was a line to the door and the fragrant resteraunt was enjoying a balmy 94 degree dining room temperature. I had the pleasure of taking this woman's order and, after carefully jotting down her every wish and whim for her two footlong sanwiches (which she clearly couldn't come in and order like the other peons), I placed the order on the counter to be filled by whomever had the time. In fact, my co-worker got to the order, which was a lucky thing because it slipped my mind in the hustle and bustle of the Monday night rush. Fast forward to about an hour later when nothing could have been further from my mind than said order, but, wait, the phone rings and who could it be? You guessed it, (note to self: must work on transperency in suspensful build-up) it was her, the call-in order woman, demanding was I the one who had taken her order. I non-commitedly admitted that I had taken a few orders that night, but was unable to be sure whether I had taken hers. She was sure, or at least sure enough for her to justify me as the target of her wrath that half of one of the footlongs had lettuce when she had clearly requested no lettuce. Naturally this was very upsetting because her poor son was refusing to eat said half of sandwich because, as everyone knows, lettuce is poisonous to brats who refuse to eat food that is provided for them and also quite volitile, even to the touch, for mothers who cater to said children which must have been why she couldn't take the lettuce off for her (no doubt) starving offspring. She was quick to explain that she didn't want a refund or to have the sandwich made again since she could tell by the "indifferent" tone of my voice that her business was not important to me (not to self: must work on transperency in voice). Rather, she merely wanted to call to tell me that I should take my job a little more seriously. Toning my sarcasm meter as low as it would go, I replied, "Thank you for telling me," and was rewarded with the overdue click of her phone hanging up. I can only attribute such a prize to my restraint.
Overall I was delighted that someone else appreciates how important a business sandwich making is. They don't call us Sandwich Artists for nothing.
P.S. To the lovely gentleman who told me that I was supposed to heat the meat up in the microwave first, not just the toaster which is "just for bread" (not that it has settings for each type of meat or anything); to youI would like to say, firstly that your telling your girlfriend, or possibly- god help her,wife- that you had to leave because you were going to fight me was the highlight of my day. And, second, to your "This isn't the first time I've been to Subway I know what I'm talking about" bit I would merely like to respond that I hope that it was in fact your last time.
Unfortunately some want their sub with lettuce, tomato, onion and extra rudeness. For example, the woman who called in her order tonight while there was a line to the door and the fragrant resteraunt was enjoying a balmy 94 degree dining room temperature. I had the pleasure of taking this woman's order and, after carefully jotting down her every wish and whim for her two footlong sanwiches (which she clearly couldn't come in and order like the other peons), I placed the order on the counter to be filled by whomever had the time. In fact, my co-worker got to the order, which was a lucky thing because it slipped my mind in the hustle and bustle of the Monday night rush. Fast forward to about an hour later when nothing could have been further from my mind than said order, but, wait, the phone rings and who could it be? You guessed it, (note to self: must work on transperency in suspensful build-up) it was her, the call-in order woman, demanding was I the one who had taken her order. I non-commitedly admitted that I had taken a few orders that night, but was unable to be sure whether I had taken hers. She was sure, or at least sure enough for her to justify me as the target of her wrath that half of one of the footlongs had lettuce when she had clearly requested no lettuce. Naturally this was very upsetting because her poor son was refusing to eat said half of sandwich because, as everyone knows, lettuce is poisonous to brats who refuse to eat food that is provided for them and also quite volitile, even to the touch, for mothers who cater to said children which must have been why she couldn't take the lettuce off for her (no doubt) starving offspring. She was quick to explain that she didn't want a refund or to have the sandwich made again since she could tell by the "indifferent" tone of my voice that her business was not important to me (not to self: must work on transperency in voice). Rather, she merely wanted to call to tell me that I should take my job a little more seriously. Toning my sarcasm meter as low as it would go, I replied, "Thank you for telling me," and was rewarded with the overdue click of her phone hanging up. I can only attribute such a prize to my restraint.
Overall I was delighted that someone else appreciates how important a business sandwich making is. They don't call us Sandwich Artists for nothing.
P.S. To the lovely gentleman who told me that I was supposed to heat the meat up in the microwave first, not just the toaster which is "just for bread" (not that it has settings for each type of meat or anything); to youI would like to say, firstly that your telling your girlfriend, or possibly- god help her,wife- that you had to leave because you were going to fight me was the highlight of my day. And, second, to your "This isn't the first time I've been to Subway I know what I'm talking about" bit I would merely like to respond that I hope that it was in fact your last time.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
A little extra nothing this evening...
This just in from the Northampton County Animal Control Officer (although it was a little hard to make out as he gasped for breath after climbing my-albeit-steep front steps): "Today has just been a day full of incidents...someone said it was the moon." We can only assume he was referring to the stigma surrounding pets and the three days waning moon.
The capstone to this undoubtably overworked elderly man's day was a stop at- you guessed it- my house. I'm pretty confident in saying it will be his last stop for the night and I wouldn't be suprised if the lovely female officer who escorted him onto the premises was also responsible for putting the poor old fart to bed (stat!).
The old guy's health aside, the verdict was that regardless of the absolute dishonesty of my neighbor's claim that our dog was on his property, my mom is being cited for "dog at large" and "not having a proper lisence". The man's false claim inspired him to invite himself onto my front porch to bang on my door and yell that our dog was loose in his yard and furthermore recieve a greeting from said dog (who, clearly was actually in the house) in the form of a bite. Not a surprising reaction from a dog who is the sole guardian of my house and family- unless you count my 95 pound single mom...which might be wise- and who is certainly not used to having our front door stormed by angry men in the middle of the day. Stay tuned to find out if he has to go to the doctor for his dog bitten hand and I hope you enjoyed this incredibly bias news report and analysis of Bangor's law enforcement (so much more to come on this topic).
The capstone to this undoubtably overworked elderly man's day was a stop at- you guessed it- my house. I'm pretty confident in saying it will be his last stop for the night and I wouldn't be suprised if the lovely female officer who escorted him onto the premises was also responsible for putting the poor old fart to bed (stat!).
The old guy's health aside, the verdict was that regardless of the absolute dishonesty of my neighbor's claim that our dog was on his property, my mom is being cited for "dog at large" and "not having a proper lisence". The man's false claim inspired him to invite himself onto my front porch to bang on my door and yell that our dog was loose in his yard and furthermore recieve a greeting from said dog (who, clearly was actually in the house) in the form of a bite. Not a surprising reaction from a dog who is the sole guardian of my house and family- unless you count my 95 pound single mom...which might be wise- and who is certainly not used to having our front door stormed by angry men in the middle of the day. Stay tuned to find out if he has to go to the doctor for his dog bitten hand and I hope you enjoyed this incredibly bias news report and analysis of Bangor's law enforcement (so much more to come on this topic).
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Food Fight!
Summer has officially dawned in the small town of Bangor, Pennsylvania- as well as in the rest of the world, not that many of the citizens of Bangor are aware of that fact. As of June 16, the Bangor School District has vomited it's usual finest out into the freedom and warmth of the summer sun. Drivers should be wary that they now need to reduce their speed to approximately 5 mph in order to avoid the new influx of hoodlum type activity which may range from darting into the street in persuit of a toy to deliberately walking down the middle of the street with a pet- or, in many instances, infant.
2010 is shaping up to be a summer of conflicts. Battle lines are already being drawn at Bangor Park and the showdown between the Bangor Pool Concession Stand and the Bangor Shack is creating a tension that can be felt all the way across the street at Turkey Hill- watch out, you're next you corporate gas station/convenience store demon! Turkey Hill should hope that by the time the conquering food lord rises from the ashes of war and wipes off their ketchup stained armor they will already be so weakened by the constant theviery they experience that they will be able to have a peaceful takeover.
Tension can also be heard in the once cheerful jingle of the ice cream truck as now a second ice cream truck has been added to the mix. So far it seems that both trucks are obeying some very clear, unwritten boundary pact, but it's only a matter of time until a wandering cone makes its way into unclaimed territory and who can predict what will happen then?
Two things are clear: one, the businesses of Bangor do not appreciate competition (maybe they're just not used to it) and two, we love us some junk food. Both of these stories will be carefully observed and reported on as events unfold, you can count on Nothing's Happening for all these small town dramz and more.
2010 is shaping up to be a summer of conflicts. Battle lines are already being drawn at Bangor Park and the showdown between the Bangor Pool Concession Stand and the Bangor Shack is creating a tension that can be felt all the way across the street at Turkey Hill- watch out, you're next you corporate gas station/convenience store demon! Turkey Hill should hope that by the time the conquering food lord rises from the ashes of war and wipes off their ketchup stained armor they will already be so weakened by the constant theviery they experience that they will be able to have a peaceful takeover.
Tension can also be heard in the once cheerful jingle of the ice cream truck as now a second ice cream truck has been added to the mix. So far it seems that both trucks are obeying some very clear, unwritten boundary pact, but it's only a matter of time until a wandering cone makes its way into unclaimed territory and who can predict what will happen then?
Two things are clear: one, the businesses of Bangor do not appreciate competition (maybe they're just not used to it) and two, we love us some junk food. Both of these stories will be carefully observed and reported on as events unfold, you can count on Nothing's Happening for all these small town dramz and more.
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