Philadelphia Invasion

Today I write to you from aboard a train cruising at a seriously fast speed along the Eastern Seaboard between New York City and Philadelphia. Last night I took part in the “Bedtime Stories” show at the Shubin Theatre over there on the corner of 4th and Bainbridge in the City of Brotherly Love (which is Philadelphia or “Philly” as it is sometimes known by the locals and other people too). The theme of the show was “college” and I closed the show with a commencement speech to the graduating class of the imaginary school St. Beyonce State. It was fun times and I got to meet lots of nice and talented folks.

Prior to my Philadelphia invasion, I did two brief interviews with some reputable Philadelphia comedy blogs that you can totally read if you want right here and here.

After the “Bedtimes Stories” show, I headed over to a nearby bar called the Tattooed Mom with sister, who totally lives in Philadelphia, and some folks from the show. We drank stuff and it was more fun times. There were even a lot of tattooed girls at the bar who will probably be tattooed moms themselves someday, some maybe as soon as nine months from last night I’m guessing.

After hanging out and drinking stuff at the Tattooed Mom bar, I went back to my sister’s house to sleep on the couch. Since my sister and her husband totally have a baby, I ended up only sleeping a few hours what with how early babies tend to wake and be all wanting stuff and all. That was okay with me though because I totally wanted to hang out with my newish nephew Luke and get a better sense of what his deal was anyway. Apparently he’s really into breast milk, puking on himself, and shitting his pants, not unlike most people his age I am told. But as far as people who are into that sort of thing go, he is pretty adorable and fun to be around. You just gotta keep a paper towel handy.

This morning my sister, Luke, and I ran out for a quick breakfast before I headed back to New York. My sister had some sort of eggs frittata dish and I had something callled the “Cinco De Mayo special”, which- as hinted in the name- was for the most part Mexcellent. Luke had a fruit cup, but to be honest he barely touched it. It was more of a prop really. We’ve all been there.

Toward the end of our meal I noticed something moving around in the jalapeno slices I had ordered on the side in an effort to take my Mexcellent breakfast to the next level. I tried to convince myself it was some melted cheese that was somehow bubbling or something, but upon closer inspection I discovered it was a worm of some sort, a worm that was still totally alive and moving around in my breakfast. My sister and I figured this is the sort of thing that just happens sometimes when you go ordering fresh jalapenos on the side, so we decided to roll with it and not call the cops or anything. This is just the sort of thing that happens in nature. We did tell the waitress that there was a worm in the jalapenos, but only because we didn’t want any other customers to go ordering the worm-filled jalapenos, not because I was mad about that shit or anything. And for the record, those jalapenos were totally taken off the bill. Thanks, lady.

After breakfast, my sister dropped me off at the 30th Street train station in Philadelphia, which film buffs might remember from the hit movie “Witness,” starring Hollywood’s Harrison Ford and Kelly McGillis. In the beginning of the movie, a young Amish boy goes into one of the stalls in the bathroom and while he’s in there he just so happens to witness a nasty murder. One thing leads to another and next thing you know Harrison Ford, who plays a tough-talking cop in the movie, has to go find the kid back at his Amish place so he can tell Harrisonn Ford about the murder and stuff. Anyway, since I had a little time to kill and all, I decided to head into the very same bathroom and mount own my own one-man, one-act reinterpretion of the murder in one of the stalls in there, thanks in so small part to the two cups of coffee and the Cinco De Mayo breakfast from earlier. Gross!

In other news, the photo above is of a car I saw parked on the street as my sister and I headed home last night. I don’t know who the owner of this car is or how even gets behind the wheel of that thing, but I salute him nonetheless. Now that’s living. Keep up the good work, big-wheel-car-driving-man- your excellence has not gone unnoticed by me, Dave Hill, a man who knows from motherfucking awesome.

Dave Hill