Sunday night at The Blarney Stone on South Street in Philly, Trumpet ate his Nazi cheesesteak and sipped some Guinness as I began the long arduous task of taking my large black “Orthodox Women from Boro Park” style hat, ratty scarf and leopard print gloves off so that I could finally fucking sit down.
Trumpet: My mom (a hippie ex-manager of a reggae band) would be so pissed if she found out that I bought shit from there.
Where did young Trumpet go to sell his soul?
Geno’s, the fox news of cheesesteaks!
Imagine a food place lit up like Las Vegas in the middle of a working class section of Philly, then picture stickers like “If you’re illegal, LEAVE”, “ Our soldiers did not fight to enlarge the borders” and the perennial classic “ We Speak English Here So Order in English!” adorned on all of the windows. The worst was when we spotted a memorial to a slain police office who was “murdered” by Mumia Abu-Jamar.
Yummicoco to Sax: Please just go to Pat’s! Don’t give these people your money.
Saturday, swapped clothing at Part 2 of Clothing Swap Party then checked out The Giraffes with Kkegel later that night. They are so fucking cool! Thank God that bottle of yeggermister did not hit me in the face!
Met up with Sax and Trumpet after the show to head over to the Bad Sweater Party. Met a woman who is could be the “egg lady” from Pink Flamingos. Sax thought that she was drunk but I was quick to assure him that it was probably the years of crack use that slurred her speech.
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