jetsam

Did I ever tell you guys about the time that my co-worker mentioned how the Bellman at the Ritz Carlton looks exactly like her husband so she decided to say hello one day and noticed on his nameplate that he had the exact same name as her husband and got to talking to him and he was almost the exact same age as her husband and the convo got rolling and holy crap but this man had the exact same dad as her husband? Secret brothers!

Philadelphia is really the smallest town in America. 

I love that her father-in-law had two ladies pregnant at the same time and those ladies had babies just weeks apart from one another and he had so much sway and swagger that he got them to name both babies as his Junior(s).

And by love I mean not love.

***

I'm at a point in my life where everyone starts to look like everyone else and I don't even bother telling people they look familiar because they probably don't, really.  It's just my brain playing tricks on me.

Did you know that the part of  your brain that makes you think you see people you know when you are traveling in unfamiliar places is the same part of your brain that makes you believe that you see your dead grandmother in your kitchen when you get up to pee in the middle of the night?  It's some weird thing that happens when your mind tries to create order out of chaos.  To convince you that all is well and you are surrounded by people that you love and that love you back.  That nothing ever really changes and everything will be okay.

I'm assuming you don't pee in your kitchen, but that you live in a ranch-style house or have some other floor plan that allows you to see in your kitchen from your hallway. I can't.  But you might.

Maybe you're one of those rich people who has a bathroom attached to your bedroom.  Lucky.  Don't take that for granted.

In a perfect world I'd have my own bathroom.  There would never be pee on the floor or around the screws that hold the toilet seat to the toilet bowl.

***

I don't know if I said this here or not, I say it all the time in real life.  I feel like I have things all together if everyone I'm in charge of has clipped nails.  Myself, my kids, my cats.  Right now, we are all scratching the hell out of ourselves with our nasty talons.  I need to get on that this weekend before someone calls children services because it looks like Edward Scissorhands is my babysitter.

***

I was just reading the word 'drone' online and someone to the left of me said drones in relation to fast food workers and someone to the right of me at the exact same moment said drone in reference to this week's filibuster.
OMG, now the fast food worker girl was singing the "give me some of that filet o'fish" jingle and I was singing it in my head just now after typing 'fast food worker' because Jacob was singing it in the car this morning.
Mind blown.  Worlds colliding.

***

Did you know that instagram is on the internet now?  I still love it, even if it's owned by Facebook.  Or Google.  I forget who bought it out.

OMG, now the person on my left just said instagram.

In all fairness, she doesn't ever shut up.  She's an intern and she thinks she's adorable.  I am not too sure what she looks like in real life, but I picture that pink fairy thing on Sesame Street.  Now she just said that if you mess up your diet you shouldn't destroy the rest of your eating for the day, just like if you make a typo in an email you shouldn't smash your computer screen. 
She woke up at 3am this morning because she was boiling hot and it totally freaked her out because in scary movies people experience temperature changes in the night and it's the beginning of the hauntings.
Now she's headed up to the top floor of the building to take a picture of that snow.
Then she's going to finally get to work.
But doesn't know whether March 8th is too late to wear a scarf in public.
Does anyone know why Starbucks blonde roast is called blonde roast? Is it yellow?  She can't drink yellow things because um, hello!  Pee!
Have you ever had those popsicles that are like, banana or something?  They might not be banana but they are yellow. That's the only yellow thing she can drink because it's not really drinking because it's frozen even though it melts in her mouth.

Ladies and Gentlemen, there you have the insides of an Ivy League MSW candidate.
UPenn's finest.

***

What I was going to say about Instagram was that I wish I would have thought of it when I started the whole Oh, the Urbanity! franchise.  I am really good with coming up with the beginning of ideas.  I'm a seeder.  I wish I was a sower.  

Here is a link to my Instagram feed.

***

Someone called me a skinny assed white girl today.  I should have been offended, but that's like seriously the highest compliment you can give a white girl. 

That was my twitter status this morning. 

***

I don't think I shared that my old bike found a new home.  Or did I?  I don't know.  I tossed my old bike outside and put a "free" sign on it last summer.  In November, I saw it tied to a pole at Broad and Walnut and I left a note on it saying that I was so happy to see it put to good use.  I haven't ridden a bike since before I was pregnant with Jacob.  Legend has it that I will be just as good at it today as I was then.

***

There's a website called Gigsalad.com where you can promote yourself and your talents and also find people who are willing to pay you for whatever it is that makes you special.  One of Dave's friends is a standup (guy and comedian.) and found himself and me a {Blame the intern for the weather because every time she straightens her hair it rains, she didn't straighten it the other day so we didn't get the blizzard, but she did last night and that's why it's shitty outside right now.  She wants the weather to go home because it's drunk and wonders if weathermen predict their own bowel movements better than they predict cold front movement} job with some Comcast tech execs.  We had to pretend to be waiters for a couple hours and let hijinks ensue.  And they did.  We got paid hundreds of dollars for about an hour of work.  It made me feel comedically successful for a week or two.  Until the money ran out.  I bought myself a little diamond ring.  Hopefully no one will steal it.  I've never had a diamond that someone didn't steal.

I also had to buy black shirt and black pants to fit in with the real waitstaff at the restaurant.  You have no idea my aversion to black pants and black buttondowns.  They just look like they smell like curdled milk products and old beer.  I went to Burlington Coat Factory.  You have no idea my aversion to discount department stores.  They are itchy.

I added pens and a lipgloss to my costume to look authentic.  Pens and lipgloss were absolutely crucial when I was a for-reals waitress. As was blue eyemake up and pink Orbit gum.

Wha canna getcha for, doll?

***

One of my favorite South Philadelphia grammar nuances is the absence of verbs, especially in sentences that begin with "I can't even..."

Eat a food you love?  

I can't even that paella.

See a baby that's cute?

I can't even that boy.

Know someone who is beyond words?

I can't even that lady.

Watch an incredible film?

I can't even that movie.

Could you imagine if the whole country spoke like this? 

Mayhem.

I find myself saying things like "You have no idea my aversion to black pants" and know that I've been in one place for a long time. That sounds suspiciously South Philadelphia.

I can't even my neighborhood.

I can't even this post.