I was an Irish Step dancer growing up, and to me, St. Patrick’s Day meant marching in the local parade, a dance performance at a restaurant or a nursing home and delicious corned beef, potatoes and brown bread that my mom would make. It was always a very family oriented holiday, and I think that’s why I’m even more baffled by the intensity of the bar crawls and the proliferation of public daytime intoxication and green beads that happen this time of year. This is actually not a post about St. Patrick’s Day, but there was a massive, Center City bar crawl today, and you really should imagine the city in this drunken state while you read this post.
I found a lamp today! An awesome lamp, sitting by the curb with a sign that read, “Broken wire. Free”. I think rewiring lamps is the best kept DIY secret, because it’s so incredibly easy and inexpensive, and with a coat of paint and a new shade, this is going to be an awesome lamp:
I had to run a couple errands before heading home with said lamp in hand. I walked through the park, went to the market, stopped at the bank. In case you’re wondering, a lamp is an excellent conversation starter. People called out to me. They stopped me in the streets. They were interested and engaging, and they wanted to talk about my lamp. They may have been drunk, as previously mentioned, but, hey, I love lamps, and it’s not everyday people want to talk to me about them.
So I was completely off-guard when this happened. I was passing two men on the sidewalk when one looked straight at me. “Girl,” he said. “Those are some fine ass… legs!”
Wait, legs? He said legs? Up until the -egs part, I was so convinced he was going to say lamp that I could not pull off the whatever, I can’t hear you face I usually reserve for cat callers in the street. He saw my shock and said, “Yeah! That’s right! I said it!”
He didn’t even notice my lamp.