Hello. My name is Catzie. I'm the "beezie" pictured above. I will be guest blogging for a day (or two) here for Greg/Scot/Scotch/Switch. As you know, Mr. Turner took a trip to the east coast to Philly where I live and to nearby New York. Unfortunately for those of us who've passed our Hooked on Phonics program and need to maintian our adult reading level, he only took pictures and didn't write anything special for the blog. As his host and tour guide for Philly/NYC, I felt some type of way about the fact* that my city wasn't getting repped right. So here we are. I guess it wouldn't be a true "day to day", since I'm recapping... Ok then, here's my back in the day.
*"feel some type of way" is Philly slang for being uncomfortable with something but unsure how to describe it or portray it without looking like an overreaction or overdramatization.
At first, Scott tried to blame the no-word blogging on the poor wireless reception, but I'd say it was sheer laziness... until I lost my entire blog entry. Damn you evil internet service providers. This here is a reattempt at what I lost...
Day 1I ran out of gas on the way to pick up Young Turner from the airport. My friend Niki had to rescue me with that emergency can of gasoline. Of course being girls we couldn't figure out how to use it, and it dripped all over the side of the car, the ground...
and our shoes... Bummer.
Did I mention it was 40F degrees outside? We huddled together to keep warm while pouring the gas in. The cars driving by thought we were into some freaky public sex act. But no, we suck at this car thing.
I don't have any pictures for the next round of stories, but I'll be as descriptive as possible and you'll just have to imagine it. After picking up Turner, (who was happy to see me but confused as to why my fingers smelled like gasoline) I misplaced my parking ticket. The booth lady asked to see my license and registration, and because it was a rental didn't match my name so she made me pull over and told me to wait for the cops to get there to verify I wasn't trying to steal the car (are you fucking kidding me?). Even though there was an Enterprise lot right across from the parking garage, the booth lady was being the opposite of a "beezie" and wouldn't let me leave. At this point I called all kinds of people - Enterprise, my friend Niki again, and my boss. I'm kinda glad Grescoswitch didn't take any pictures of me, I make some ugly faces when I'm mad. Anyway, I found this nice man working at the garage and used my lady charms to persuade him to get a copy of my rental papers and let me go if I prove I didn't steal the car. It worked.
So I went to work and Caliboy roamed the city. When I got back, I made dinner. All by myself. I mean, he did asked if there was anything he could do to help, but you know that game you play where you say "No I dont need any help" and the other person says "You sure?" and then you say "Well... " and then give a rundown of things to do? Well Switchboard said "Okay" to the first "No" and then continued playing on the computer. There are no pictures of my wonderful penne pasta with mushroom and turkey, or my cabernet tomoato sauce with wheat spaghetti, not even the salad with the carnberries and blue cheese. Nope. But here's a sweaty ass picture of me that Lazy Scott took while I slaved over the food...
Later that night, we went to a Good Magazine party at Reading Terminal and got some free beer. Diplo, and Pete Rock were the special guest DJs and as you can see rocked the crowd pretty well.
See that single dollar? That's all we needed becuase it was free beer all night. Now before all you hype willies get excited to come visit Philly and ask where this club "Reading Terminal" is, I have to explain it to you. Reading Terminal used to be a train station back in ye olden days, but now its sort of a farmers market/food court but enclosed inside of the building. It was a one time thing, and I have to say it was a little weird to party inside of a place that looks like this in the daytime...
See this here?
This is the view from atop of the steps of the Art Museum, you know the one Rocky ran up? ... Yeah I know you saw this already but what you don't see here is that it's from my car. Yep, I drove my car right onto to the top of the steps. If it was any other girl she would've driven Scotty to the bottom or the side of the steps, waited in the car while he trekked the 75 or so steps alone and then have to make his way back down. But not me. I'm a true Philly girl to the heart. I did it the right way.
And this is the view looking towards the museum.
I also took him to see Boathouse Row on West River Drive. And yes, they keep the outlines of their houses lit all night for all Philly tourism to enjoy. Good night.
Day 2I made breakfast again - cream cheese & walnut French toast with supercheezy omelettes. We were supposed to have strawberry sauce with our French toast, but since I was cooking alone again, ahem, I wasn't careful when I placed the measuring cup on the lit stove top and it exploded. After feeling like I had been slaving over a stove, I went to clean myself in the bathroom and I walk out to find this:
A man cleaning my stove. What a site huh?
After breakfast we decided it was time to give Scruff McGruff Turner a haircut at my boy Pheak's barbershop. I don't know the name but this barbershop was barbershop as it gets - one girl barber, one non-black barber (that would be Pheak, the Cambodian) and even a guy selling bootleg dvds. While I waited, I got to see
300. I guess the bootleg seemed so much better because Turner already saw it and hated it, but seemed intrigued this time around as did everyone else. Perhaps it was the one know-it-all barber, who liked explaining everything, and then rewinding the pivotal parts just to make sure you understood it. So if any of you care to see
300 again on DVD anytime soon, it's $10. Cash only.
Round and round we go...
What do ya know, he even shaved the whiskers.
There ya go, Small Head Ball Head Turner. I worked up an appetite waiting, so I wanted to get a cheesesteak from my favorite place
John's Pork Sandwiches but they were closed so we went to my 2nd favorite place
Cosmi's. Now I hate to lecture anyone on the proper way to order a cheesesteak, but lemme demonstrate it by re-enacting the dialogue at the deli counter and see if you can figure out where Switcherooney went wrong.
Me: Can I have a cheesesteak with fried onions, salt, pepper, ketchup, American cheese, a little bit of mayo and pickles and peppers. Turner: Can I have a chicken cheesesteak. Girl: Do you want anything on it? Turner: no. (10 minutes later after getting our steaks and eating them)
Me: Hows your steak? Turner: Its kinda plain, I wish there was a some kind of sauce or something. I felt bad, so I gave him my other half (pictured here),
and he ate the whole thing, down to the last chopped onion. It was so good, we got the 'itis (food coma), and took a nap. When we woke up we realized it was superlate but still wanted to head out to New York. We got there around 230 AM, still an hour and half left to party but not enough time to meet up with folks. So we hopped a couple bars and ate pizza at Rosario's.
Doesn't Turnboy already look New York Steezed out?
Must have been the NYC thin slice pizza, 'cause we tore that shit up. Well he did, I don't like crust.
Day 3 I didn't know this when I booked it, but our hotel was directly across the street from the World Trade Center.
This was the view from standing out front of our hotel, the Millenium Hilton. There were some public pictures to commemorate the heroes and victims of 9/11.
This was my favorite, it's the two towers among clouds.
Along the other side, I found this little hole, that showed a glimpse of what the new tower would look like. Obviously we got a long way to go.
I made Turnface stand next to the picture of the metal piece with all the writings on it. Doesn't he look handsome? We should send this one to Grandma. For lunch, we ate it the
Il Bagatto. Very authentic place, everyone there, even the patrons spoke Italian. There was a woman there, who might've been the hostess, kinda made you feel like she was your long lost Italian aunt, but still made you sit at the kiddie table in the back so she could entertain the rest of the adults with stories about her husband. I wanted to take a picture but I was a little scared of her. So I took pictures of the food. Scotchface thought it was weird I took pictures of the food but whatever...
He ordered a tortellini & meat sauce,
I ordered spinach and cheese panzerotti with butter and sage sauce, and it was yumm to the eey.
With our bill we got a Tarot card, when we asked the waiter what it meant he said "It's a tarot card". Okayyyyyyyy, now that we got that cleared up, if any of you know what this card means, call us.
Took a little trip to Williamsburg, Brooklyn to check out
Boundless NYC. If you wanna see the inside you're gonna have to visit 143 Roebling Street and find out yourself.
This was the building next door. I just thought the artwork was cool.
Inspired by the art I had just seen I took us to Midtown to see the Guggenheim, but they were closed for renovations, so I substituted the
Apple store on 5th Ave as a beautifully architecturated public art structure to look at. Almost an even trade right?
See the bright lights?
A drive through NYC wouldn't be complete without this view...
and by the look on Scotcharoonie, I'd say it was nice to be surrounded by city lights.
A few hours later on the way back home to Philly, I got surrounded by some lights... the PoPo lights. I tried taking more pictures but Mr. "I'm-not-scared-of-cops" Scott told me I shouldn't. But see he doesnt know thst Jersey cops are much nicer than Cali cops. Sure they're all cops just the same, but the ones in Jersey seemed to like me. He took off 10 miles from my speeding number, gave me a ticket and told me to be careful pulling off. I was in such a good mood I decided to get some West African food at
Kilimanjaro.
This here is grilled lamb chops, the finest grilled meat you'll ever taste.
On my plate I had a healthy serving of lamb, salad, rice and fried plantains.
and Turner, well he only had chicken. Nothing else just chicken. I was beginning to worry that maybe he was a savage when it came to eating habits, but then he picked up some salad.
Day 4
I refuse to cook anymore. Not that I felt Scotchness wasnt deserving, but it was Sunday. I needed a break. So we went to
Mixto to get us some South American Latin brunch.
This exciting plate you see in front of you is churrascos (Argentinian steak) with yellow rice, salad and fried bananas. And what did Scottstown get?
A chicken sandwich and plantain chips. Ummm, is anyone else noticing a pattern here?
Afterwards we went driving around to look at more touristy stuff since it was his last day.
It looks like he's taking a picture for that group, but no he's just camera stalking them...
and then proceeded to stalk me.
He looked a little sad, so I gave him and L-O-V-E some alone time.
Underneath the bridge at Roosevelt Park, at the sorta sneaky skate spot.
It was fun Turnips, but now we have to part ways. Back to La La Land.
Doesn't he look a little sad?
Well that concludes my initial entry. I promise not to make them this long for the next one. Well if there is a next one.
How the fuck does anyone like what Franco Shade does? Just a bunch of dudes on rollerblades. Now that's really street. These motherfuckers Rollerblade. I thought i seen it all until this shit. Franco Shade should come out with dolphin shorts so their pussy lips hang out when they rollerblade the beaches of O.C. ..... and slouch socks so they can scrunch them down when rollerblading.
