In which we go to Camden, and make it out of Camden also.

Camden has a lot of things—like a bridge to Philadelphia, half a 2000m rowing course, the highest 2nd highest murder rate in America (doin' it St. Louis), and half the police force it did a year ago. We were more interested in their not quite minor league baseball team. Well, and that bridge to Philadelphia. 

Here we are, on what could have been our last walk, headed towards some pubic transit over to The Jers'.  I like this picture but I'm glad it wasn't the end.

It's a great little stadium (and that view‽), but they really don't make it that easy to get to. Once that round trip ticket you've bought doesn't work you'll have to wait until the PATCO lady comes over the station loud speaker to tell you (yes, you) to pick up the emergency phone. And it's not until she's done remotely managing your ticket that you get to wander through after-dark Camden over to the stadium. The thrill of it!  These blurry times were had:

But so were these 4th row times, and these bird times. I don't know why that happened, but it did. And I love it, shut the door. Also, The Sway finally got into full gear.

We couldn't hang out in murdertown all night though; Roxyalotta was having a birthday bash. Everybody knows that the only thing more fun than Vacation Roxy is Birthday Roxy, so we weren't about to miss that. I came close when I broke both my ankles for a minute while Swaying, but we all recovered in time for some additional Philadelphia DANCING(!). 

Where's the bus? Call a Cab!

Here's something that I want every person's visit to Philadelphia to include: late night bar sing alongs to Motown Philly followed by late night cheesesteaks on my deck.

Sunday. Day Three. Brunch. Bloody Marys. This picture, depicting our various states of array/disarray. The realization that Crapples is still stashed behind The Barbary. Finding it hidden right where you left it:

Then taking a good look at the place you had had such a good time at Friday night. In the sunlight. Feeling both good and a little scared about it.

In the harsh light of day: The Barbary

Day drinking. Everything. No, literally, we drank every single thing they had on their menu. We may have played every single Crapples card that's been made in the process.

Waitress Lex gets in on the action.

This is a great game to play at a bar actually. Find their list and start from the top. Don't try to order what you want because you can't. Your drink is whatever is next on the list. Which proves to be amazing, hilarious, and unfortunate all at the same time. Bonuses are accrued when the barkeep &/or waitress gets invested enough to search out rare off-menu items just for the love of the game. Losses are accrued when you have to pay the bill.

Here's what you don't want to do—leave your credit card on the table when the group finally let's you go home to New York. There's gonna be some extra shots on it, which is your own fault, Schwenn.

He left us! He left us!

Here's the part of the story I thought I might not tell. As bad as the crushing return to reality was when I finally returned to work on Tuesday, my funsickness paled in comparison to Monday's umbral variation on a Whitney. I had so many questions about what was going on inside of my body. There was a lot of laying myself places, and only eating bits and pieces of my grilled cheese, and doing the old shakes in the grass routine. After putting Katie and Lynda really close to a train to the airport without waiting to see if they actually got on, I went home and ate this. I think it was a good idea. If you come visit me I'll make one for you too.

Risking Your Yolk

Not a Double Egg-Flip, a Double-Egg Flip. 

When it does work out it's completely worth it. 

Yes Ei Can

I do not like them, will.i.am. I do not like fake eggs and ham.

I tried to fry them in a pan, I tried to fry them on the sand.
I just don't like fake eggs and ham.

I should not, would not, put them in his hand.
I could not, should not, hide them by the Pam®.

I should try them in a box,
by the bread or by the lox.

If I hide one in the jam, will he need Diazapam?
Oh Shazzam!, should I make a hologram‽

Could I put one on a bar, could I hide it here or thar?
Would he try it at Iftar, should I send them to Qatar?
Or, just call the registrar?

I will not try them in a pan,
I will not fry them in the sand.
I will not put them in his hand,
I would not hide them in the jam.
I would not eat them at Iftar,
I would not eat them anywhar!

But Martin will.



# of frames: 30

Die Eiwaffe!

After 5 interminable weeks, Martin's Brown-Egged reign of terror has finally come to an end. He's been buying browns, and only browns, ever since I found this fake egg in an Iowa City Hobby Lobby. It's like he knew I was scheming up an egg swap and was just buying brown to spite me. Ach!

I figured him out though. All it took was a late night egg tossing/squeezing session to get rid of the last of his latest brown dozen. Which provided the perfect pretense to give him my eggs as replacements. And so operation Porcelain Egg begins...

[03.11.09 09:40] Update: Subject fried 2 eggs this morning. Appears unaware of swap. Observation continues.

Let's Talk About Blogs, Baby.

It's taken me a little while to find my words about last weekend. Now that I've got them though I'm going to use 'em.

The weekend started in The Kee Friday night for Schmatie's Sweet Sixteen Party. There were plenty of Scwepp's, Spark's, and Silver Bullets to go around; some were even convinced to take some Schitty Bombs, a drop shot of root beer schnapps in a pint of Schlitz. There's a reason they're known as Schitty.

Highlights included floor-dancing [below], drinking from the squirrel mug, an inexplicable power outage late in the night, and breakfast the next morning.

We couldn't waste too much time though, Joanna was due to show up in Madison in the near future. Ostensibly, she was coming to see me and/or make up for missing Katie's birthday. In reality it was because Sealander had made a spur of the moment 12 hr drive [add 15 minutes if you want to take the Canadian route] from Rochester, NY.

We got to Madison with plenty of time to make the 7:30 showing of Coraline in 3D ["The best movie I've seen all year(!), in 3D."]. The collection of child stealing she-demons, evil schnauzer-bats, button eclipses, and disturbingly proportioned body parts probably should have bumped this into the PG-13 category.

[Look at that turkey neck!]

Although we were excited about Sundance's amazing smoothies and wide variety of popcorn toppings, the thing that really made the trip worthwhile was the realization as we wandered back to the car through The University Bookstore that here lied the elusive and highly sought after Le Pen®.

[Katie, with pens]

After 15-20 minutes spent enjoying the wide assortment of colors and styles we made our decisions and began brainstorming things we could label with our new Marvy® products. We spent Sunday morning sitting in comfortable chairs, drinking coffee, and labeling maps.

[Canada, Europe, Africa, & the Periodic Table]

This may not seem like a fun time to you, but it is for us. I even played it on my birthday. There were some significant realizations too, namely: the relative positions of Whitehorse vis-á-vis Yellowknife, the capital of Macedonia (Podgorica), the location of The Orange River, Rutherfordium(!). Our mood was only enhanced when Joanna finally showed up. It didn't matter that she was 3 hours late; she came bearing gummy candies, cheese curds, a bottle each of Templeton Rye and goats' milk, an amish pickle, and a bag of frozen berries.

We immediately left for breakfast with Sealander and Brad. A Breakfast Scrabble event ensued in which FEAR-BONERTUB-SKI (a Polish container designed to hold fearboners) intersected INCHOATE-DRIHUMPER (a registered trademark for a person just at the onset of a dry humping act).

After breakfast we walked next door, purchased 4 bottles of cheap champagne, a 4-pack of sparks, and 4 40s. Later we picked up 2 gallons of orange juice. Then began an epic day of gaming, mimosas, and egg breaking. We started with a polite game of Jumbling Towers, moved on to a short-lived game of Bridge, progressed to an epic game of Apples to Apples To Go (100% New Card Content!), and finished the night off with a rousing game of Balderdash. Later in the night we played 4-Square egg toss in the street and read about how to squeeze an egg without breaking it.

Life skills that we learned:

➊ the correct ratio of champagne to orange juice is 4 bottles : 1 gallon.

➋ when betting shots of whiskey on your Apples To Apples cards, it is impossible for both of your cards to be picked first. If you bet on them both, you will lose. There is no other outcome.

➌ the White Kentucky [Iowan whiskey and goats' milk] ruins both the whiskey and the goat's milk.

➍ if you forget which definition you submitted during a round of Balderdash, and then proceed to vote for your own answer, you will be awarded one shot of whiskey by the DrinkMeister.

➎ it's completely possible to squeeze an egg without breaking it. But it only works with white eggs, and when you have paper towels handy.

What did you do learn last weekend?

Brought to you in association with:

Oh, hello .blogworld, I didn't see you there. I've been busy eating eggs all week. On Monday, Joanna and I ate these two eggs over pizza at Pizza Brutta. The green Chevy coup would be released from the mechanic in a matter of hours, until then we enjoyed our unexpected day together over gray yolks and homemade soda mixes.


On Tuesday I brought this little green beauty with me for lunch, which, per usual, I ate at my desk while doing the crossword. Immediately preceding eating this egg I spent 95 minutes in a meeting talking about the phonological inventories of baby Hmongs. The egg was much more eggciting, and its yolk was much less grey than Monday's eggs.


Wednesday lunch found me back at my desk at lab with another green egg. This one loudly proclaimed "BANG!", in homage to Status Quo from America's Best Dance Crew. If you haven't watched this show you've missed some seriouzly hard dance, the always prescient commentary of Lil Mama, and some outrageously inappropriate video effects.


I briefly contemplated the vast agro-industrial complex that had yielded to me this non-free range egg, before enjoying the little baby chicken embryo inside.




Thursday's egg [not pictured] was eaten during my office hours in the linguistics department. I was interrupted mid-egg by a student confused by α-notation. I'm still unsure of the proper etiquette for this situation. Should I finish my egg before talking to you, or leave my partially eaten speckled egg sitting on the desk while we talk linguistics? I chose the later.



Friday's egg was my Lady Rapper Egg, subtley emblazoned with my moniker "Morning Glory Wood". I ate this egg while contemplating the ellusive El Dorado of Lady Rapper-hood: the Lady Flip. Joanna, Darcy, have you been practicing?