How Could I Forget!?

There is one video that came into my life this year that has absolutely changed my life, completely and 100% for the better, better than anything else i've ever, ever, ever seen ever.

I can hardly walk into my parents' house without someone yelling "whoa! woooooow! whoaaaaa!  oh oh! wow!"

We Bees love our internets, so I'd like to send out a whole thanks, on behalf of the Beehive this Thanksgiving season to the Whoa Lobster baby for always be there to cheer me up and make me laugh even when i have The Miserables.

This kid makes me want some children of my own to dress up in Hawaiian shirts and videotape their introduction to live crustaceans.

I'd embed that shit if i could, but it's been disabled, so go hobble and gobble on over to the youtubes and enjoy for yourself.

Also, major thanks to J for bringing this delightful thing into my life.

WHOA! WOW!

i love you turkey, i love you other things

you love turkey.  i love turkey.  tomorrow is a day to be thankful for turkeys.  i am thankful that i am not a vegetarian, so that i can partake in the turkey.  and because it's not thanksgiving without a hand turkey, i now present to you, circa 1992, with a dash of 2005 college photoshop work, my thanksgiving wishes to each and every one of you:

oh shit, can you peeps read that?

in no particular order, it says:

• 
  
  1. my fingers aren't really this fat, i swear!
  2. <3 the bee
  3. is this an easter egg or what?!
  4. i swear this is a turkey beak.
  5. HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
  6. what i can only assume is some sort of cashmere sweater.

and since it's not thankgsiving without a collage, i now present to you, The Bee's Best Thanksgiving Day Photo Collage That 2009 Could Possibly Offer Ever:

Hope you kids like it.  I like it.  That's all that matters, really.  As long as I'm happy.  But did I miss something?  Shout it out, if I missed something superdooper huge.  I think I got it all.  I think. 

And before you people get all "but where are your family and friends!?" on me, they know what pertains to them.  They know.  I don't really love big basses for the hell of it, people.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Things I Meant To Tweet, Edition 1

I think the title is pretty self explanatory.  Things I meant to tweet but didn't.  These come from last night's Drexel-Penn basketball game at the Palestra.  I don't even like basketball.  The rivalry proved awe-inspiring, however.


Penn Sign to Drexel:


-Drexel, can you read this?
-Can you read anything?

HIYO!  GET IT!?  'CAUSE DREXEL'S NOT AN IVY LEAGUE AND THEREFORE DOESN'T TEACH LITERACY!  AAAAHHAAAAAHA!  OBVS.


Drexel Sign to Penn:

- AJ Drexel, the man who built Wall St.
- Wharton grads, the men who took it down

HIYO!  GET IT!?  'CAUSE ALL PENN KIDS ARE SILLY WHARTONS!

Penn to Drexel:

-Mario is a FLAMER

HIYO!  GET IT?!  'CAUSE THE DREXEL MASCOT IS A DRAGON!  HILARIOUS!  GAY JOKES! HIGH FIVES!


Drexel Chant to Penn:

Homo!
Phobic!

HIYO!  GET IT!?  'CAUSE WE'RE RETALIATING SINCE THEY CALLED MARIO GAY, BUT WE'RE ALSO SUBTLY CALLING THEM HOMOS!  TOUCHE!  HIGH FIVES!



You stay classy, Philadelphian college students.  You too, Dragondog.



Mario DragonDog Photo from: http://walkthiswayllc.wordpress.com/2008/10/31/halloween-pictures/

On Yoga and $80 Pants

I was on the phone with my mother the other night, drunkenly dictating my Christmas list to her.  Yes, I am 25 and my mother still asks me for a Christmas List.  Last year included a crock pot. Fucking money. If I can't have a wedding registry, I may as well get a Christmas List.  This year's list includs a bookcase from West Elm (which Mom told me half of which was a birthday present that I never received), a 12-pack of Dr. Scholls gellins and some 80 dollar yoga pants.

And don't smirk at my Dr. Scholls.  Probably the most amazing little stocking stuff ever.  Transforms every last awesomely hot, but awesomely excruciating heels into flats.  Kind of.

And don't smirk at my 80 dollar yoga pants.  Mom squealed about it already.  Wants to know if the pants come with the ohms and transcendence already tucked inside the perfect little key pocket in the back.  Sadly, no transcendence.  Just hot ass pants.  I get that Lululemon is the downfall of the True Meaning of Yoga, but they're great.  I'm not changing my mind.  My butt looks too good for you to convince me otherwise.

But then, I found these:

Is it a jean? Or a yoga pant?  Why, it's both!  Someone call Descartes.  It's the yoga pant that THINKS it's a jean!  It really must be worth 80 dollars, since it has a brain.  The Pant thinks you should go to class more often.  The Pant thinks you should put that ice cream down.  The Pant thinks you're not really putting 110% into this.  The Pant thinks arm stands are easy and you're just a pussy.

Not to get all George Will on you, but have we really become a society that needs its sporting wear (is yoga really a sport - apparently, the Bikrams have competitions) to look like regular wear?

I'll say this: I don't think these guys will fly on Casual Friday.

SEPTA Strike Part 2

Hey y'all.  How's that day two feelin?  Apparently the train cars are combusting and Amtrak's hopping in on the train delay fun, too.  Fun.  Market East was relatively quiet for the second day in a row. 

The cabbies were again seemingly non-existent this morning, probably due to an large increase in their morning rides.

And how about you guys walking?  At least it's not raining.  Or snowing.  Or sleeting. 

And all y'all biking the striking?  How is that going?

And now, for a guest blog!  Woohoo!

"So, I'm hoofing it to work this morning again, trying to be positive about my forced 1.5 mile walk, when, in the middle of the crowded Market Street sidewalk....
BOOM! A guy on a bike plows into me! Hits me pretty hard.

I, of course, yell, "Hey, get off the damn sidewalk!" He starts screaming at me that I can't be upset since he (apparently) said "Excuse Me" before plowing into me.

I am so f'ing sick and tired of bikers on the damn sidewalk. It's one thing when it's a relatively quiet street at an off-hour, when the person is trying to be polite. It's still not really okay (since it's rude and illegal), but I'm not going to raise a fuss. It's another thing to do it during AM rush hour, on MARKET Street, when the sidewalk is packed because SEPTA is on STRIKE. And it's an even bigger thing to think that it's no-big-deal to HIT a PEDESTRIAN. He was so f'ing cavalier about the whole thing, like he was just some guy who bumped his shoulder into mine. No, buddy, you HIT me with your BIKE, going at a rather brisk clip!

I'm so sick of this shit. First K. (although I suppose she wasn't technically on a sidewalk). The guy who ended up DEAD...  The police should be f'ing ticketing every one of these assholes who refuses to follow the law by riding in the street.

What the hell can we do to stop this? I'm all for bikes in the city. I really am. I want more bike lanes and I want tickets for cars who don't respect bikers. But I also want the bikers off the f'ing sidewalks, which are for PEDESTRIANS. Just like it's no real contest between a bike and a car (the car always wins), it's no real contest between a person and a bike. The dead guy from two weeks ago should have taught us that."

The SEPTA strike is hard for us all.  Everyone has been affected, whether they ride SEPTA  frequently, occasionally, or not at all.  Will ticketing help?  They've tried it already in DC.  They've also ticketed jaywalkers.  So, is more policing the answer? 

Perhaps it is.

But perhaps, it's deeper than that.  I've written about it before.  What we need more of in this city is brotherly love.  We can all rally around the Phils, pedestrians, cyclists, drivers, all of us.  But once we get onto the road, it's full-on warfare.  Drivers, you need to share the road with the cyclists.  They're here and they're not going anywhere.  Cabbies, you're the same as drivers, so you pay attention too.  Cyclists, you have a few bike lanes.  They are yours and only yours.  Please use them.  The sidewalks are for pedestrians.  The Bicycle Coalition of Greater Philadelphia said it themselves: Bicyclists are not pedestrians with two wheels. 

And hey, pedestrians?  Get off your damn phone.  And just so y'all don't think i'm a hypocrite, I hereby pledge to stop tweeting while walking.

Now, even more so than before, we all need to stop being angry and running around like a bunch of Mac and Charlies.  The need for everyone to coexist in the city is becoming greater by the day.  These factions we've created as a society, based on our commuting preferences, have completely clouded our judgments as a whole. 

The strike will undoubtedly get worse before it gets any better.  You don't have to sing Kumbaya with each other, but it'd be nice to be nice.


"Fail Rail" by brhefele

On SEPTA

I'm suppporting SEPTA and the union on this.  That doesn't mean this morning's commute didn't suck.  Maybe I'm supporting because I have other options to get to work (regional rail, cab, even walking forty minutes).  Or maybe because the biggest responsibility for another creature in my life involves a sad little ivy and some even sadder lucky bamboo.  But I like to think that I'm supporting the union because this issue is about being fair.

Before we start jumping on the "Be grateful you HAVE a job, Local 234" band wagon (since we will be using band wagons to get around town until this gets sorted out), we should look at a few facts first.

Contract negotiations are for a four year contract.  No one is getting a raise right now - we all know that - but in the next four years, the economy will probably bounce back and we'll all be back to getting our merit and performance raises just like we're used to.  If SEPTA goes with the city's proposal, they will end up with a 4% raise over the next four years.  1% a year.  Which is not a big deal in the end.  1%.  ONE PERCENT.  For the next four years.  So even if the economy is soaring with rainbow-colored ribbons in two years and stays steadily at that, SEPTA will still be locked into their measley raise of one percent a year.

The current median yearly salary for a bus driver in Philadelphia is $25,100 while the median yearly of bus drivers nationwide is $33,900.  So even if we give SEPTA their FOUR PERCENT OVER FOUR YEARS raise (GASP!)  the average bus driver in Philly will still be making 20% less than all those over bus drivers.  Where are the cushy bus driving wages?  Are they in cities that are full of potholes, traffice, absent minded pedestrians with ipods, and vigilante cyclists?  With all that our bus drivers have to deal with, I'd be pretty pissed too if someone told me that they weren't even going to give me a few bones to inch me closer to the national average.

Let's do some quick math here.  One percent of $25,100 is $251 dollars.  I'm averaging here for the sake of averaging.  $251 a year is $4.83 a week.  That's what the raise the union is asking for.  Five dollars more a week.  The city won't agree to that.  Our bus drivers aren't worth that.

Here's the other problem: the people making these big contract decisions - are they even paying attention to the system?  On a daily level?  Of course not.  It's widely known that in the District of Columbia, the people who sit on the Board for WMATA do not ride the system regularly.  Those people, in fact, get discounted (perhaps even free) parking in the city.  How committed are you, Sir or Ma'am Metro Director, to fixing the problems of the system if you aren't even inherently familiar with the system?

It's the bigwigs who are holding this thing up.  Not your bus driver.  Remember that.

Also, remember that for an extra five dollars a week, you'd be pissed too.

Photo by lindseyweb