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i’m devastated!

jesus was a monkey.

philadelphia is not a big city.

everyone knows that friday nights are for spending with the bf, and last friday was no exception. after i had ODed on what not to wear episodes, i got in my car to make the crosstown trip to his apartment. before i got it started, however, i noticed a slip of paper in my windshield. “i know a mickeyfickey ain’t hit my shit” i said out loud. “goddamn! can’t have shit in this damn city.” i walked to the front to look at the note and find out who banged into my car. and the note said:

hey garry,

we were walking pass and saw your car. i’ll touch base with you soon. my sister and i both have had a baby sine we last spoke. i hope all is w/ with you.

love,
[your cousins]

i had gotten all worked up for nothing.

don’t call it a comeback, i’ve been here for years.
© LL Cool J, Mama Said Knock You Out

we all know it’s hard out here for a pimp, but it’s even harder for his bitches:

Jemerson (the bitch) calculated from the journal Thompkins (PIMP!) forced her to keep that in 2004 she made more than $222,000. All of the money went to Thompkins . She said he paid her $20 a day in “front money.”

Once, when Jemerson used some of that front money to buy marijuana, Thompkins beat her and another prostitute with a metal chain.

Thompkins told Jemerson that African American prostitutes – he called them “ducks” – made less money than their white counterparts – “swans” or “snowflakes.” He told Jemerson, who is black, that she would have to work longer hours to make up the disparity.

“In order to come up, you have to stay down!” he would say.

Thompkins, 37, was arrested in December as part of a nationwide federal operation called “Innocence Lost” that targeted the prostitution of minors. Investigators raided seven homes Thompkins used – four in New York, two in Las Vegas and one on Second Avenue in Galloway Township – and seized eight vehicles.

They also found two large trophies proclaiming Thompkins “Pimp of the Year.”

life as a shorty shouldn’t be so rough.

west philadelphia is not a late night town, especially in the summer. there are no students to speak of – except the few attending summer session or completing internships. the bars, which close at two of course, are mostly empty on weeknights. and restaurants have switched to their summer schedules because no tutelage also means no late night junk food binges.

during the summertime in west philadelphia, if you happen to attend a movie showing on a tuesday night, your post viewing plans may be limited. if you hadn’t eaten all day, and thought you’d stop by the greek lady for a tasty souvlaki, you’d be mistaken as they close at ten on weeknights. if you’d thought you would walk a few paces down for a qdoba burrito, you would find out that they were closed as well. if you had thought you would stop by the local pub and munch on stale fries and a burger, again you’d be wrong. they stop serving food a ten pm. very quickly you would discover that the only place where you could get a bite at so late an hour was the philly diner (where you might get shot), or allegro’s pizza (where you might have to shoot some silly coed), and mcdonald’s (where the food might kill you). if you were me and in said situation, you would eschew these choices and opt instead to pick over spoiled produce at the freshgrocer. to wander aimlessly through it’s slanty aisles in search of proper hotdog buns and italian sausages. you would return to you apartment and have to cook your own dinner at an inappropriate cooking hour. you would decide that philadelphia really does kind of suck.

happy birthday aids!

what do you do to commemorate a quarter century of your favourite disease? participate in an AIDS walk? sew a new patch to the AIDS quilt? attend a candlelight vigil for long lost victims? i think not! you know what they say, “when god gives you AIDS, make lemonAIDS!” – and fix some chicken and waffles to go along with them.

AIDS jokes are not funny.

life in philly continues on. last monday, i decided i would go downtown to pick out new furnishings to outfit my new apartment. i went to the freshgrocer to purchase tokens for the short subway ride into center city and after thirty minutes of waiting only one customer ahead of me had been checked out. i, ever time-efficient, decided that the seventy cent discount was not worth the wait. just two blocks down the road, i could pay full fare and get right on the train for a mere two dollars. i descended the stairs of the fortieth street station. and i slipped a ten (the big money!) through the attendant’s plexiglass encasement. he told me he could offer no change as i watched him stuff innumerable one dollar bills through a small slit. i sucked my teeth in disgust and left. if i were to get anywhere that day i would have to drive.

oh, and todd levin likes oranges.

i’ve moved to a new apartment and it faces the street, which means i get to learn new and exciting things about philadelphia without leaving my living room. like what times employees of the seven eleven take smoke breaks. that sometimes on saturday afternoons, you can see a caped cowboy riding his horse through west philadelphia streets. and that if you’re in an accident on a rainy saturday, you just might have to wait two hours before police and a tow show up.

dudes, don’t trust these broads. watch your privates.

“She didn’t use no weapon – this was just sheer brute strength and fingernails. She grabbed me by my [scrotum] and ripped it apart with her bare hands,” Randolph said yesterday from his hospital bed at Albert Einstein Medical Center, where he was in stable condition with stitched and bandaged genitals.

Talk about a strict violation of the penal code.

Howard Randolph said his wife tore “everything out of the sac and all the skin away.”