1. My "notes" from the stink tank:
I am a deeply dedicated professional, clearly.
2. Last Saturday, we drove to Philly to pick up a friend at the airport and have an authentic cheese steak experience. After careful research, we chose our purveyor:
We'd been told that locals order their cheese steaks by saying "whiz wit," but we weren't entirely sure what that meant and suspected it may be a ploy to mark us as non-natives, the same way a northerner is immediately identified at any southern gathering by a loud and unmistakable, "Hello, YA-ALL!" I ordered mine with mushrooms and onions; n.o.c.'s was more elaborate, and, I believe, laden with pepperoni. I didn't know such a thing existed. The Cosmi's guy then sent us to Grumpy's, a bar down the street, where we purchased two-dollar beers, listened to fantastic accents, and marveled as people smoked - inside!
Here's n.o.c's (note the No Smoking sign) :
3. We have one and a half bathrooms. It's been years since we've had more than one commode, and, since I am simple, I am endlessly delighted by the half-bath. Technically, we had two bathrooms when we lived in Las Vegas, one blue and one pink, but our roommate Porno Pete used the pink one, and, since a major reason that I enjoy my bathrooms is that they're nearly sterile, my trips to the pink bath were rare. Incidentally, there was also a small velvet painting in the pink bathroom that depicted Satan dealing with a mad bout of hemorrhoids.