flightless hag

A chronicle of the adventures of birdwoman: a lonely, talentless freak who wanders the internet in search of entertainment.

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Location: Philly

I'm a 40-something married white female, survivor of weight watchers, avid reader of pulp. Dogs (not cats), extreme right (handed, not politics), ENTJ, alto, wanna-be knitter.

March 31, 2005

50 Things I Love About Philly In No Order Particularly - #44

(Like the title says, this is a list of things I've loved about philly, in the 17 years I've lived in this area. Also, like the title says, they're in no particular order. It's also not an inculsive list. These were just the first fifty that popped into my head. I'm gonna dish one up fresh, weekly. Also, I've started at the "bottom" to keep you tuned in. It's part of my nefarious plan for readership. Mwa-ha-ha-haaaaa.)

“Everybody who knows goes to Melrose…”

If ever there was a better earworm than the Melrose Diner jingle, I’ve not found it. And being the mother of two small children, I’ve heard my share of earworms.

The song isn’t the only catchy thing about the Melrose…

Diners supposedly used to be a staple of Philly and Philly suburb life. They’re still a staple over the river in Joisey. But out in the burbs, you’re hard pressed to find a diner at all.

Deep in the heart of Sout Filly, there’s a wonderful diner.

Walk in there at any time of day and you’ll see a guy huddled up to the counter – ordering the same thing he’s ordered for the last forty years. You can almost see the young guy superimposed on the old one. For him, the Melrose is habit, not tradition. Booths are filled with couples

And behind the counter are the wait staff, busy as bees, changing coffee pots, rotating the pies.

Oh, the pies.

I’ve never actually eaten FOOD at the Melrose. But the pies. Don’t tell my mom, but they’re better than hers (and that’s saying something, my friend). It might have something to do with the fact that “they use real buttah in their crust”, as my Sout Filly landlord, Mrs. Parroto, used to say.

I especially love the coconut cream pie.

The service is always the same – “whaddya want, dear?” – the coffee is always the same, the counters, the booths, the ambiance. Next time you find yourself down there, say, after going to see Cirque du Soleil (that’s the last time I went), hustle on down to the Melrose. And have a piece of Chocolate Cream pie for me. Yummy.


March 29, 2005


Apparently, Subaru is very concerned if there are oxen in the proximity to their cars. My car needs a new ox censor.

I’d ask “what’s the point?”, but I live in an area inundated by whitetail deer who tend to be suicidal. I’m thinking that maybe this ox censor is multi-tasking. If so, mine hasn’t worked properly for years – poor scoobie was attacked violently by a doe a few years ago.

Just when you think these car things couldn’t get any more complicated, they add stuff like this. And John wonders why I don't want him to even attempt to change the oil on the thing. Who knows, he might end up disengaging the ox censor!!

/dumb girl mode

March 27, 2005

Boogie Baby?

The Inquirer has an article today entitled Boogie Baby (reg req). Much to my surprise, it wasn’t about kids with colds. No, indeed. Boogie Baby is about the new Baby Disco, which apparently is a savvy entrepreneur’s way to utilize his hip nightclub’s space during the day.

The bar is fully stocked with juice boxes and tequila. There’s the leftover stigma of smoke from a thousand clubbers. There’s the opportunity for parents to grab a draft while their kids bounce around to rock and roll.

I predict failure. Not because people will be horrified by it. But because it’s an association thing. I do NOT want dancing and partying associated with little kids. As a mom, I want dancing and partying to be associated with one of two things: pre-kids or getting away from kids.

Obviously, the owner of the club has no kids, or he’d know that’s the way most parents feel.


March 26, 2005

I Am Officially Old

Perhaps not chronologically, but certainly mentally.

I went out shopping today and decided to hit the local
T J Maxx to see if I could find a new outfit for Easter. Cliché, I know, but I figure if I’m gonna have to go to church, I should get something out of it.

Every damn thing in that store was UGLY. The colors, the patterns, the fabrics, the styles: nothing but hideous. And yet, they were doing a brisk trade. So I must be the only one in the world who thinks a that French cuffs are not flattering, that orange looks terrible on Caucasians, that a big puffy flower on the boob should be OUTLAWED.

I’ve gotta go to
DSW. At least those fashions, I understand.


March 22, 2005

I Freaking Hate Acronyms

OK, can anyone tell me what RWDB stands for? I keep seeing it on different blogs, and I keep thinking Right Wing Data Base, because, well, I'm a geek.

Right Wing Dirty Bird? No, that's my husband, and he's not popular enough to be referenced on all those blogs.

So, what's the what, people?!?!?


March 21, 2005

Where Have You Been?!

Those of you who are regular readers – Hi Mom! – may have noticed that I’ve not been posting much lately. Several updates on the personal front:

  1. I finished my book. No joke. I’ve had a “to do in my life” item on my list since I was about 16 – I wanted to see how hard it was to write a romance. I’ve now done it. It sucks, but I did it.
  2. I got a promotion. At work. Just goes to show that you can fool some of the people some of the time. But now, my working hours are a bit more, shall we say, demanding.
  3. I seem to have developed severe tendonitis in my hands. Typing hurts pretty much all the time. Coincidentally, I type for a living. So, I haven’t even been surfing the web in my off time, trying to get my hands back. I’m also going to the doctor. Wish me luck.

So, I believe my excuses are valid. I’ll try to do at least one entry a week, but you know about intentions? Me, neither.


March 14, 2005

50 Things I Love About Philly In No Order Particularly - #45

(Like the title says, this is a list of things I've loved about philly, in the 17 years I've lived in this area. Also, like the title says, they're in no particular order. It's also not an inculsive list. These were just the first fifty that popped into my head. I'm gonna dish one up fresh, weekly. Also, I've started at the "bottom" to keep you tuned in. It's part of my nefarious plan for readership. Mwa-ha-ha-haaaaa.)

Bizarro Tourist Attractions

Every city, big or small, has its tourist attractions. There are the standard “Empire State-ish” kind of attractions, where lots of people know about ‘em. Then, there’s your “world’s biggest pile of string” attractions, and you’re wondering what snake-oil salesman got the founding fathers of a city to pay to make ‘em. (see Roger And Me for prime examples here).

Philadelphia, being one of the older cities in North America, has a number of famous tourist attractions. There’s the Liberty Bell, Betsy Ross house, the Art Museum – you know, all the stuff you can see on a horsie-carriage ride.

And then there’s our “alternate” tourist attractions.

We have a wonderful
fringe festival once a year, where live art springs up on our very streets. You never can tell if the fight you’re seeing is real or a staged event.

Please Touch museum has my vote for the strangest name – do you really want to take your kids to a museum called the Please Touch? Well, actually, you do. It has all the stuff kids are normally discouraged from touching – a working bus front, a supermarket with checkouts that work, and all sorts of other fun stuff that kids are encouraged to play with.

We have the
Eastern State Penitentiary - home for a very brief time to Al Capone. It’s this cool old prison which has tours. Wear a hard-hat, though, because you never know when the crumbling edifice might decide to bonk you on the head.

My favorite, favorite weird tourist attraction, though, is the
Mutter museum. This is a medical museum, the likes of which I’ve never heard of before. There are specimens the likes of which I wish I’d never seen. There are all sorts of tumors, preserved corpses, pieces of corpses. And it’s all done so scientifically, that it almost doesn’t seem so revolting. It’s only when you think about what you’re actually viewing that you get a little freaked out.

So, come to Philly. Take a trolley tour of the park. Take a horsie tour of Old City. But don’t forget to look for the attractions down the side streets – some of them will knock your socks off!


March 09, 2005

Gone Fishin

Just an update for you readers who meander your way into my world and find yourself stricken… No news? No updates? No prize-winning commentary?

Alas, the dusty aviary hath been stricken with plague.

A scene from Sunday afternoon: Mommy, laying, shivering, on the couch in the new room, Toddler Timmy listless on her chest, electric blanket on both of them. Daddy, huddled on the couch in the living room under the rest of the downstairs blankets. Sean, sitting happy in the commander chair, holding the remote, watching whatever TV he wants, eating whatever junk he finds in any of the cupboards.

Sean, you see, has the immune system of a 5 year old – he’s seen enough of these colds to roll with the punches at this point. He was down for about 2 hours in the middle of Saturday night. Otherwise, he was his normal insane self. Little bastard.

Meanwhile, I’ve been completely out of it since Friday. Haven’t even looked at the blogs in a week now. So, now, I’m goin’ fishin.

In the meanwhile, for those of you who find yourself deprived of entertainment due to my hiatus, a recommendation: Garden State. John forced me to watch this movie last night (I hate it when people make me watch or read anything). I was determined to hate it. Much to my chagrin, I was still laughing at scenes hours later. That flaming arrow scene still makes me laugh. See, John, I can admit when I’m wrong. Sometimes.


March 02, 2005

There's Gold In Them Thar Nostrils!

OK, I was listening to Michael Medved on the way home yesterday (I generally tend to agree with him on foreign policy stuff, and want to strangle him on social stuff, but he almost always entertains me), and he had on the most incredible flake.

Dr. Bella DePaulo has come out as the un-elected spokesperson for a new victim group: Singles. She gets all sorts of outraged about things like the New Yorker calling its restaurant “Table for Two” because it makes single people feel left out.

Now I could go on and on about this, but in the end, I guess I’m really just mad because it’s a victim group I can’t belong to. I’m married, and happy to be so. In fact, I’m having a hard time fitting into any victim group. I’m white, completely white, as in British descendant. I’m young, but not too young. I’m female, yes, but I work in technology, so I guess I can’t really claim oppression there. So what victim group can I be a part of?

Well, I can’t figure one out. But I’m seriously thinking about joining a victim group that I’ve made up. The BoogerPickerEater* victim group.

Come on, ante up. Most people out there do one-half of that social crime. Most people, in the privacy of their home, the semi-privacy of their cube, or the not-at-all-privacy of their car go digging for the gold. I’ve seen it as I drive. I’ll even admit to clearing a stuffy passage in my time, though I’ve never gone so far as to ingest the leavings.

I know this confession is gonna make some of you absolutely sick. I know I’ll be persecuted for this, as I was back in middle school when Patty Post caught me picking during a filmstrip. That scarred me for life, I tell you. And why? To what purpose was I singled out and denigrated?

Scientists have stated that this habit is not only medically not-harmful, it is actually

"With the finger you can get to places you just can't reach with a
handkerchief, keeping your nose far cleaner.

"And eating the dry remains of what you pull out is a great way of
strengthening the body's immune system.

"Medically it makes great sense and is a perfectly natural thing to do.”

Read the whole thing, if you dare. Open your mind! Stop treating those who dare to fly in the face of convention and pick their noses as dregs of society!

Myself, I’m off to find some government reparations and funding.

*Named in honor of a former Temple professor who used to imbibe during all the graduate-student seminars. One of the graduate students used to call him that “G-dD@mBoogahPickahEatah” in said student’s strange Haitian-New Yorker accent. In fact, I can no longer remember this professor by any other name. Just another case of the oppression of an innocent!


March 01, 2005

And you won’t drag me back, kicking and screaming

I’m a newly converted XM Radio (that’s satellite radio for those not in the know) listener. My husband has had it for a few years, in fact, the new room on our house was paid for because he bought stock in the company when it was cheap – he knew the product would take off.

And it has. And it will continue to do so.

I got it in my car – the only place I really listen to radio. I haven’t heard a commercial while listening to music in over 6 months. I haven’t even got the FM channels programmed into my car stereo!

A few weeks ago, I had Arbitron – they’re the Nielsen of radio – call me to see if I would fill out one of their diaries. I said, well, sure, but I don’t really listen to radio – I listen to XM. They were a little non-plussed.

I’d like to imagine their response upon reading our diaries. I have only XM, my husband has only XM – all day at work – with a little bit of AM in the afternoon, since my mom is using his car XM during the day (we have one of those portable things).

A few nights ago, coincidence I’m sure, I had a call about a survey for local radio. I couldn’t identify any of the morning shows they were touting. I couldn’t identify the play list of any stations. But I listen to radio about 2 hours a day. All XM, baby.

Also, coincidentally, I’m sure, I found out that the station I used to listen to all the time Y-100 (the only modern rock alternative in Philly) has changed format to hip-hop. Too bad. Lucky for me, I have XMU or Ethyl or Lucy to choose from.

And I’d have it no other way.