We don’t give a damn that you’re twelve-years-old, or eleven-years-old. We’re gonna straighten you out over the interweb after the beep…

[Photo credit: Evan Grant]

This Shit Is Bananas!

We saw all of you last weekend. And by all of you we mean everyone that you‘re now dating and awkwardly force us to talk to when we run into you, plus a good portion of their bare, tofu-colored skin. Who didn’t squat in a park somewhere or touch down at an outdoor café at least once? Give yourself a black eye and a pat on the back. You’re kinda a hero like that.

We had to calm Conrad down and assure him that you guys aren’t usually this dull and content with balmy weather. Partner was so disappointed in all of you:

What’s the deal, Philly? This past week was boorrrinng! With a few exceptions that we are trying hard to remember like… Well, The Smiths cover band at H&K was entertaining. But while we thought them talented, we did overhear a solo member of Hail Social whine “Why are they even trying?” As for The Sons And Heirs (Smiths throne-carriers), they sounded close enough but could have cut their set in half and let us return to contorting ourselves.

Ang Yap is our good luck charm. If we see him on a night where there was another big party going that we passed on, we know we made the right choice when we spot him rocking steady. So, after sighs of relief, the hail continued. Brooklyn’s Holy Hail knocked us over the head at Sorted. We say this because we wrote them off without a Myspace listen and were hitting JB’s solely for the Mike Z/Dave Pak fix. At first sight they looked like a commercially-cute-aw-look-a-female-singer-and-guitarist-nu-rave outfit. But no ushy gushy here. You forgive their stylish haircuts the moment singer Cat serenades you with hot-freak yelps, barks, and screams. We see them with a Making Time future, in like a year or so.

Conrad is convinced that all possible fun to be had this weekend followed Steven Bloodbath down to South Philly to this Warehouse we keep hearing about. Kels & Connie will have to try and find a tandem bike at Via and come down one weekend.

Finally, the official unofficial start of the spring season is here; the signs are around us. For one, all the hipster bitches were in Rittenhouse this Saturday looking like Mary Kate Olsen circa 2005. (We’re talking ’bout the dogs, calm down ladies). We’ve never seen so many slutty-looking pooches. Top serious, we could not find one pup over 6 pounds that wasn’t licking up a half-empty Red Bull and sporting some snazzy Am Apparel get-up. We call an increase in pregnant pups this summer. BTW, Is there a 72 Pill for canines yet? Sign number two, the return of “the others.” Yes, I know we all like to forget that they exist during the cold months when they’re hibernating, but given one 70-degree day, these insects/suburban folk are back. Five at a time in their cars blasting Q102 roaming around Center City making it annoying to do anything. Filling up our beloved shops, cafes, parks and worst of all, drinking quarters, simply because they got some good lovin’ on PhillyBlog. One woman/sub. trash posts “Haven’t been in Philly in a while, what’s a good hot spot!?!” Then some dumbass replies “Royal Tavern’s an ace spot and they have awesome food.” Way to be a snitch, Snitchy McMurdelphia Pants. But hold tight, my fellow brethren. You’ll be safe on rainy days and at Tritone. Sign number three is a straight fact of nature: body odor. You know who you are, and it’s not always a bad thing, but it’s there.

We checked in with Diamond Girl, who hit the road for Coachella this weekend, and D Girl is not impressed after her Tuesday night stop in Portland. Explain to us, Erik Bader, why there were only 7 people dancing at the Klaxons after-party with a Klaxon on the decks? Says she, “In Philly, that place would be packed, right?” Frankly, my dears, in Philly that place would be raided by L&I in a hot sec. We’ll dish more about DG’s Coachella Quest next week.

What Would Doyle Do?

In the words of Doyle, lovable keyboardist from The A-Sides: I don’t do too much that I’m proud of. Wiser words have never been spoken to us in a room full of drunk, attractive people. It was then that we decided Doyle had all of the answers, about life, and death, and what kind of beer to drink. Each week we’ll find out just what Doyle would do…

If someone forgot to put you on the list for Making Time and they weren’t letting anyone else in?

SO THIS IS KINDA HOW MY DAY OF MAKING TIMES GO. I GET UP AND USUALLY DO THE COFFEE THING. THEN I START TO BARRAGE ADAM SPARKLES WITH PHONE CALLS. BUT YOU SEE HERE’S THE TWIST. I WOULD CONSIDER ADAM AND I GOOD FRIENDS BUT WE DON’T GET TO HANG OUT ALL THAT MUCH. SO WHEN I CALL ADAM I’M ALWAYS LIKE “HEY ADAM, WHATS GOING ON? YOU GOING OUT TONIGHT OR MAYBE YOU WANT TO GET SOME DRINKS?”. A BIT CRUEL BUT IT SEEMS TO HUMOR ADAM. HE ACTUALLY WON’T EVEN ANSWER ANYMORE WHEN I DO THIS. HE USUALLY JUST SENDS A TEXT THAT SAYS SOMETHING ALONG THE LINES OF “HEY DICK, YES YOU’RE ON THE LIST”. ALL THIS NOT GETTING IN NONSENSE I GUESS I NEVER THINK ABOUT. I SUPPOSE I WOULD JUST KICK IT SOMEWHERE TILL AGNEW OPENED UP “THE BEDROOM”.

Confessions On The Dancefloor

“Blueberry muffin crumbs are so in right now.”

Scene Points: Florida Josh

Josh or Florida Josh as he’s known to most, is one of the nicest people in Philly that we can respect. J-dawg suffered a near fatal head/neck injury while crowd surfing at And Dim Sum’s night at the Khyber. We know, you’re like And Dim what? But everyone was there for the Kenny visit. And all of you OGs know that And Dim Sum parties were the jam a few years back. Apparently, everything was peachy until Josh got pushed over to some girls who couldn’t handle his maybe 125lb frame. Who are these girls? Anyway, given some water and pushed in a cab (true Philly-style), he made it home, slept it off, and was back on the scene Saturday night. All the best from Talkin’ Shit. We love/hate you bounce-back types.

Mute Human Ladder Man is a true Rittenhouse wonder. Katie W. is a professional rock-climber. Who else could scale the Barnes & Noble/Anthropologie building in a jumper on a 90-degree day with only decaffeinated diet root beer in her system? But this fella thought she needed a boost, and in the creepiest two minutes of our day, he ran over to lend his back. Without saying a word. So even after girl owned that wall, mister helped her down, and we thanked him hysterically, he kept his cool, said nothing, and disappeared into the crowd. Props for letting us walk all over you.

TrendFucking: Camo Shorts On Wednesdays

There’s a war going on in Philadelphia. We do not endorse the existence of a single pair of camouflage shorts in anyone’s drawers. It’s a given that we have to spot both men and women wearing these all week long during the warm weather months, but as of late it seems to be a Wednesday thing. Now we know a lot of girls who agree that on Monday, you wear what you bought over the weekend, and that on Friday, you wear what you bought during the week for the weekend. Alterna-rock is buried. Six-year-olds wear camouflage so they can pretend they’re in Iraq saving lives. So we can only attribute the multiple sightings of Wednesday Camo Shorts to lack of interesting attire. You’re caught in the middle of the week, barely puttering along, thinking that nobody will notice you as you blend in with the…see, we don’t have foliage in Philly. There are like two trees and 37,000 condos, Rambo. The thing is, you don’t blend in, and we can spot you from a mile away. So think before you camo. If you want to be known as the Camo Ho, the blood is on your hands.

This entry was posted on Thursday, April 26th, 2007 at 12:30 pm.