Philly

Things they’d arrest you for in the suburbs.

~ thedailydish ~ 10 Comments

But in the city – anything goes. Need proof?

1) When we lived in our last apartment, my husband & I were awoken one night by noise in the alleyway. We looked out our 2nd floor window to find our landlord splayed on the steps outside his apartment, mumbling incoherently. What really caught our attention: he was dressed in drag and shooting up.

2) A couple years ago I was on the phone with a friend, looked out the window into our alley and spied a man standing there urinating. Middle of the day, just casually taking a wizz against my next-door neighbor’s house. I ran out and started yelling at him. He took off running down the block, fastening his pants as he went. I suppose I should be happy – another neighbor has a “pooper”.

3) Our block on summer nights is a prostitute’s dream – dark, semi-secluded with lots of tree cover. Some of the more interesting run-ins we’ve had with local hookers:

  • My husband approached a car where an illicit rendezvous was taking place. He banged on the window and told them to hit the road. The client got out of the car and threatened to kill my husband. Threatening? Not really – since the dude was standing in the middle of the street buck naked.
  • One prostitute was finishing up with a client. As I approached her car, she very considerately opened the door and proceeded to vomit on the curb. This would be just before she threw the used condom out the window.

4) Back in graduate school, I owned a Jeep Wrangler which I drove to & from campus. One morning, I left my apartment, got into my jeep to head to school, and noticed another car had pulled up right next to mine. As I was parked on a busy street, I assumed the person was just waiting to take my parking spot. Nope. I looked over (and being higher up – in a JEEP) saw Mr. Happy Hands going to town on himself, grinning up at me with enthusiasm. I did not smile back.

5) A few months later, same thing, different guy. I spent 20 minutes on I-95 trying to avoid some whack job driving right beside me, trying his utmost to get my attention, in my elevated jeep wrangler. To be safe, I now avoid all brownish Monte Carlos with Delaware plates.

6 ) My first year of graduate school, I rented an apartment right next to a guy with an unbelievable addiction to (surprise, surprise) porn. Unfortunately didn’t know this until AFTER signing the lease. He seemed to be a fairly nice guy, but I don’t think I ever saw him with a pair of pants on. Liked to hang out in the hallway in his boxers. He appeared to spend all of his waking time watching porno movies, which wouldn’t have bothered me quite so much had he been considerate enough to a) turn down the volume, or b) close his window shades. As we shared a wall – which ever-so-conveniently happened to be wood paneled (old Victorian house), I spent many waking hours wondering whether he’d drilled some sort of Porky’s style peep hole into it I’d never be able to find. I started changing in the bathroom after that. Occasionally my cat Sammy would wander out into the hallway before I could stop him. Dude would throw his door open like he was waiting for it and immediately start petting my cat. I really didn’t like that. When workmen at the building started asking me about him – “hey do you know that guy? he’s got a real problem..” etc, it got to be a bit much. A small porn collection might disturb a sensitive person, but one so massive that it’s creeping out the Big Burly Workmen? YIKES. I didn’t renew my lease.

7) Same apartment – other side. This second guy was really nice with no apparent porn addiction. A big heavyweight footballer. One night, I woke up at 4AM, my apartment filled with smoke, someone wailing on the door (porn guy in his boxers) – hallway also filled with smoke. The fire department arrived in moments, no response from the Footballer. They break down his door to find him out cold. Turns out he’d gone to the huge Greek Picnic at the Plateau here in Philly, came back wasted and decided to make some hot dogs. Unfortunately, he passed out before he took the pot off the stove. Great smoking wieners, Batman!

8) More about my jeep. Man how I loved that car. Unfortunately b/c of the soft top it was the biggest theft magnet imaginable. I had at least one radio stolen per year, sometimes two or three, and additionally had huge kicker box speakers literally pried out of the back of my car. I installed a Viper alarm system, as in: “Protected by Viper, STAND BACK” which never did anything except amuse neighborhood boys who used to love setting it off, and annoy the sh*t out of myself and everyone else w/in 200 feet. While clubbing one night, someone stole the entire TOP off my car. This was only topped by coming out one morning to find someone had stolen both doors. Man I miss that car.

9) The second apartment I had in grad school was a lovely place – with built-in bookcases and a sweet little balcony I wasn’t supposed to use, but of course I did. The down side: people were constantly leaving the front door open, so occasionally you’d hear your doorknob rattle, look out through the peep hole and see some shady guy standing there on your doormat, mumbling something about having “mistaken your apartment for someone else’s.” Yeah, okay. I came home one day from school to find someone had conveniently popped the lock open on my door and stolen the few things I’d had worth stealing: my VCR, my jewelry, and my gym bag. Of course what do I miss still? The jewelry? Nah. WELL – yes, the one turquoise ring most definitely – but NO, it would be my ratty yet irreplaceable gym shorts which were in the bag, and doubtless got tossed right into some dumpster. Cops came, took the report. No arrest, no leads. No gym shorts. Sad story.

10) Several months ago, my husband caught a 9 year old kid trying to steal our daughter’s bike off our porch. Broad daylight, middle of the afternoon, and this kid’s flat on his belly squirming up our steps, reaching out to pull the bike to him, so he can leap up on it and flee. His two companions, on their own pint-sized bikes, were waiting as lookouts in the street. So my husband comes around the corner of the house and actually catches this kid in the act. And was he scared? Crying? Shame-faced? Fat chance. He actually had a lie ready & waiting. Told us he was coming up on the porch to ask for a tire pump. Funny, I didn’t know we looked like the local service station. Unless you’re looking for the SELF SERVE. Poor dumb kid. 9 years old and he’s already a remorseless criminal. I must have asked him ten times to tell me where he lived. YOU KNOW I was gonna set his mom straight. “Um, I don’t know where I live.” “I don’t know the house number.” “Our phone number just got changed.” etc. Too young for the juvenile court system, no parental supervision – Unless you’re counting the 17 year old thug he calls a friend. The future ain’t looking too bright.

Reflections on my time as Cupid.

~ thedailydish ~ 6 Comments

I had a pretty busy weekend. Besides reuniting with a jailbird relative and crossing the picket line at Toys R Us, I also spent a chunk of time filling out Valentines in my role as your own personal cupid!! And let me tell you, it was fun. So much better than coming out of the thrift shoppe Friday to find someone had keyed the crap out of my car. I never anticipated playing Cupid could be quite so engaging, quite so diverting, but it’s been all that and more. And I think I have a knack for this love stuff. It’s not so hard once you get going. Love up one person, then the next guy’s not so hard. It’s like a snowball rolling down a hill. And by the time I reached the bottom of the mountain, I felt tingly all over.

Personalizing cards for people all over the country is a very rewarding task. Much like helping a blind person across the street, which I have also done and found quite nice. There aren’t many things you can do for someone quite so personal as sending their loved one a valentine. Because not only does it require steady nerves and a heart full of romance, but it also entails TRUST. And I am so happy that you all trusted Me to love up your Loved One for You! That shows a level of selflessness not displayed in many, other than swingers. And you should all be congratulated on your openness. Congratulations!

And as you’ve put me in this very special position, I just want to say I have done my best. Like writing “Let’s ————!” in my nicest most come-hither handwriting. I’ve tried my utmost to fulfill your expectations in each and every way when it came to these cards. I know you did not pay me anything for the card itself, or my time, or the postage either, but that’s not the point, is it? If I expected payment for love, would I not be selling myself short? Well perhaps legally it is called prostitution, but humanly it is just called sad. I do not need payment for love. And neither do YOU.

So from the very bottom of my being, I want to wish each and every one of you a very Happy Valentine’s Day! And since I am from Philly, I will say it in Philadelphian too: Happy V-Day, YO! Hope you like the cards! And I also hope that the US Postal Service delivers them on time. And to the right address, as I have had issues with that. But you all live someplace else, and that probably makes all the difference.

I *heart* Stonyfield Farm

~ thedailydish ~ 14 Comments

Last month I got a very unexpected email from the marketing coordinator at Stonyfield Farm yogurt informing me I’d won their Recipe of the Month contest. WOW! I didn’t even know I’d been entered, but apparently when you submit a recipe (something I did), they enter you automatically. Coool. So I was super excited to hear I’d been chosen as one of three winners for the month of November (an honor in and of itself), but even more psyched when I read that I’d also be getting… a PRIZE! Now, I don’t know if you can tell from my online persona, but sometimes I can get PRETTY EXCITED, and this was one of those times. A goodie bag of yogurt wonders ALL FOR MY VERY OWN!!! WOOHOO!

So I have been eagerly awaiting the arrival of my precious yogurt box, and late last week I began wondering where it could be. I worried about it a little bit. You see, we have issues with our mail delivery here at our palatial West Philly estate. Indeed, our postal service has become so erratic that we’ve had to open a PO Box at the main Philly branch in order to ensure we actually get some of our mail. Unfortunately when you miss a payment, businesses do not care if it was because you never ever got the bill. That’s simply NOT an excuse. And when we do receive mail at our house, it’s often sampled or heavily used. Like our bank statements, which come open and pre-scrutinized. Or our magazines, which arrive so dog-eared we know what the mailman had for lunch. We also routinely receive mail for other people, blocks away, which I dutifully walk over and place gently through their slot. But who is getting my mail? And why aren’t they kindly returning the favor?? Yesterday my 94 year old grandma called to say she’d gotten my recent card, but someone had slit the envelope down the side and removed the rest of its contents. It made me SO MAD. WHAT IS WRONG WITH SOME PEOPLE?? HAVE THEY NO SHAME?? DO THEY NOT HAVE A GRANDMA~?? DO THEY NOT REALIZE GOD DOES NOT LOOK FAVORABLY ON THOSE WHO STEAL FROM 94 YEAR OLD WOMEN LONGING FOR PHOTOS OF THEIR GRANDCHILDREN??? As my husband would say, may God smite them. Painfully.

So you see, I was beginning to think my beautiful Stonyfield Farm prize might have been delivered and stolen off my porch. Like the time my husband ordered something from Apple, and UPS delivered it to some deranged woman 12 blocks away, who called us demanding money for its return. Or the time my neighbor ordered books from Amazon and found the open package three blocks away in the street. So this weekend I contacted the very nice marketing coordinator, explaining my concern, and YIPPEE! she told me that my package was on its way …. and finally, yesterday, my beautiful box from Stonyfield Farm arrived. 🙂

Let me tell you, it was even better than I’d expected. No expired yogurt at all. Instead I got coupons! Always great when you consume lots of healthy yummy delicious STONYFIELD FARM YOGURT like I do (*wink to camera*)! And not only that, but I got a bunch of awesome cooking stuff – a super thick Stonyfield Farm logo oven mitt,

heavy-duty pyrex measuring cup and double-spoon AND spatula. PLUS a yougurt cheese maker – which looks like a hairnet,

but actually makes you YOGURT CHEESE. Doesn’t that sound delicious??! I confess it does not sound all that delicious but I bet it is delicious if it is made with STONYFIELD FARM yogurt, because IT is the BEST. And not only did I get all of those amazing things, BUT I also got a cute cow-emblazoned magnet, a brand new pencil AND a Stonyfield Farm Cookbook, with tons and tons of recipes and ideas for using their delicious healthy yogurt, complete with scrumptious-looking color photographs. This book was written and tested by the CEO’s wife, so you know it’s got to be good. And last but not least, is my brand new beautiful Stonyfield Farm tote bag, with the SF Farm logo on one side and the Brown Cow logo on the other. My husband asked me who the Brown Cow is and I have to say I have no idea, but he/she is cute and that’s all that matters. I even got to USE my tote bag last night when we went to the library. I proudly displayed my yogurt preference to all and sundry and I know everyone was GREEN WITH ENVY. It’s lucky the library is so darn close to Whole Foods, because I think I left a trail of yogurt-hungry people all waiting for a quick release.

So, in conclusion, I urge each and everyone of you to go out and buy some wonderfully spectacular Stonyfield Farm yogurt today. Then you should go home and create a magnificently delicious recipe and send it to Stonyfield Farm, so that you too may be as happy as I am right now. Sitting here with my new potholder on my hand and my yogurt cheese maker on my head.