Just One of the Many Reasons Why I Love Philadelphia So...

a couple girl scouts were selling cookies about ten feet away from one of the tin can lunch trucks that have been dropped on every corner of Broad street in center city by the naturalization board...This guy picking up a cup of coffee on the way to an office jokingly said to the old couple in the truck dressed like Romanion gypsies, "Hey those girls are stealing some of your business, huh?". The old man stuck his head out the window & sniped in broken english "fuck da girl scouts"...

I Am The Otter

Last night, one of our gay waiters, Jimmy, was explaining to me, David & Lisa about a subculture that exists in gay circles know as the "bear community". Bears refer to a large, hairy, gay man that projects masculinity. However, a civil war rages between the muscular & the more generously proportioned bruins as who most accurately fits the description of a "bear" (refer to "the natural bears classification system"), the latter being refered to as nothing more than mere "chubs" by their iron pumping brethern (boys can be so cruel). There also exists a subset of this phenomenon with classifications for those who don't quite fit the bear "mold" but still wanna be players in the "den"...David seemed curiously eager to find out what his status would be should he perchance find himself in a pair of assless chaps on a saturday night at the "Blue Oyster". I thought he'd be a full on "bear", & a popular one at that, but Jimmy said, despite being a big guy & heavily tattooed, David just didn't quite project the working-class masculinity needed for the group. "So what would I be then?", David pleaded...sorry to say buddy but you'd be nothing more than a "cub", & you don't have to be a card carrying "bear" to know that means that you'd be somebodys' bitch...Ouch!...As for myself, due to my leaner figure, I would be...wait for it...an "OTTER?".

Woof!

2 Heterosexual Males Seek Life Coach To Teach Them To Be More Dynamic...(will be paid in alcohol & tattoos)

While David was trying to numb a toothache with pints of lager & whiskey we both came to the conclusion that we need life coaches. I'm 33 & he's 35 & neither of us know how to do anything. I know a little about what I want but abso-fuckin-lutely nothing about how to acquire it. I'm not an idiot. I can pay my bills, dress myself & get to work on time but when it comes to adult things like getting insurance, buying a house, investing wisely I'm more confused than me trying to figure out a witty metaphor to finish this sentence. I was totally unprepared to figure out interest rates or when to refinance, when to buy when to sell. I mean what is this shit? I want somebody I can trust to tell me who to hand my money to so I can get what I need because thats all I understand. This is why I work behind a bar, you give me money , I give you alcohol, just leave at 2:00...

A Missed Connection...

I'd like to thank Warren Conchetti for a magical 6 hours today...I mean it's not everyday that a low-level south philly mob associate walks into your bar & regales all in attendance with tales of cars he's hot-wired & young ladies he's fingered...As his figure appeared at the top of the stairs, a vision in white nike high tops, I thought "sure he'll have a sandwich & maybe a beer or two, but he'll never stay longer than an hour, a man like this is much too important to waste an entire day in a bar talking to whomever is fortunate enough to sit within earshot of him.". It proved a fortunate error in judgement because after 4 shots of stoli 0 & 5 glasses of house merlot I thought he might walk out of my life forever...but no, there he sat for 3 more hours brandishing a gold chain crucifix worn on the outside of his sweater...

Paul Westerbergs' X-Rays

David & Lisa were in last night. They live a few doors down from the bar. He's a tatoo artist out in New Hope & I'm not sure , but I think she just walks around the city all day. Earlier in the day he had tattooed the "My Melody" hello kitty character onto a 23 year old girls' rib cage because in her own words "my melody is awesome! she can do anything!".

The Replacements song "Alex Chilton" was playing on my ipod which reminded David of the time he lived in Minneappolis in the late 90s. He worked with this guy named Corey who was obsessed with Paul Westerberg. Corey moved to Minneappolis just to be closer to the band. He went so far as to rent out the apartment the band all lived in together while recording their first album & even got a job as an orderly in the hospital Paul Westerberg had recently been admitted to so he could steal his X-Rays & have them framed on a wall in his apartment.

Day Shifts

Working a day shift as a bartender generally requires little more than a pulse. If one were to take a pub crawl throughout the city of Philadelphia on any given weekday they'd be treated to a fascinating display of creatures who are visibly uncomfortable being sober & exposed to light...
I bartend a day shift every tuesday because it ensures that i'm up early at least once a week but it also proves to be profitable as the bar/restaraunt i work at does a solid lunch of salads & designer sandwiches that caters to a center city crowd of office workers. From 12:00 to 2:00 its turn & burn those tables as quick as you can til the remaining afternoon gives way to a handful of stragglers usually consisting of talkative beer geeks starved for attention. Todays guests were no exception...
After lunch the food runner Julius told me that him & one of the other bartenders, Gerrardo, were gonna move to San Francisco in two years. Julius lived out there briefly about ten years ago & said its like fucking disney land. He said complete strangers approach you on the street & say hello & ask how your doing without even wanting anything. Wow, California man...
They're both in their early thirties like me & that got me thinking that even at this stage in my life I could be do for a change of scenery as well. To think at my age my father had six kids & was already into his second deadend career just shows how much these times been a changin...
My dreams of free love & walking up steep hills were interrupted as black Mike came barrelling up the stairs drunker then a motherfucker. A mountain of a man at 6'6" & well over 300lbs, he was a cook at one of the bars i use to work at. He's a big lovable guy who has a bit of drinking problem as in he use to not show up for work days at a time while out on a bender. He would, without fail, take an annual unannounced christmas vacation for a week at the round house on disorderly conduct charges. What a creature of habit...
"yo batman, whats up?", he shouts as he rounds the top of the stairs leaving the sparse happy hour crowd contemplating an escape down the the steps,
"whats up wit all dese niggas up here?"
He then procedes to wedge himself between a couple at the end of the bar, now frozen with genuine fear as this enormous black man towers over them, his eyes hungrily fixed upon the womans' cleavage. Before the puddle of drool forming at side of his lips starts to drip, I round the bar & cautiously ask Mike to come down stairs with me. Thankfully he follows becuase if decieded he was gonna sit down & have a pint then there was nothing that me or the 32nd precient could do about it. We reached the outside & he asks me, with a look that portrayed such a genuine sadness & feeling of rejection that I thought for a moment about inviting him back up,
"are you kicking me out batman?"
I explain that he's welcomed back anytime, on the condition he hadn't priorly been marinating in two bottles of bankers' club vodka. He swallows me in his arms, kisses me on top of the head, "ok batman, i'll come see you another time" & staggers away into the rush hour traffic...
Back upstairs, I thank Deon, one of our cooks who had been enjoying an after work cocktail at the bar, for so couragously deceiding to watch my back from all the way in the safety of the kitchen...
Deon has enough on his mind though. Already a single father of three, his current girlfriend, who just two months ago gave birth to his fourth child, informed him today that she had joined the Navy while walking past a recruiting office on the way home from shoe shopping. "The Navy?" he mutters to himself, completely baffled, "The Navy?", the lines of his brow furrowing deeper each time he repeats those two words, "The Navy?", his voice rising til finally he screams out & exclaims, "She can't even swim!".