Results tagged “publicservice”

Last Friday & the weekend: Michael probably doesn't know it, but he got a shout-out from Hot Hot Heat frontman Michael Bays at last week's FREEZEtival before the band played "Bandages." What the connection between the song and our mayor is, we have no idea. And in real news, Michael named his appointees to the Pennsylvania Convention Center Authority board.

Remember when people used to go out to meet other people?

In a very Dan Brown-like turn of events, investigators working on a Cold Case in the DC area came to Philadelphia to meet with members of the Vidocq Society, a group of "forensic professionals and motivated private citizens who, as a public service, donate deductive, scientific and other talents for the common good" and gather once every month for "Cuisine & Crime-Solving." Delicious!...

Raise your hand if you enjoy live music festivals. *Phillyist raises hand* Now, raise your hand if you’re an un-American communist who doesn’t like the idea of live music in a beautiful Philadelphia park (or cute little kids raising their hands, like at left). *Select members of the Fairmount Park Commission raise their hands* Yesterday, the Fairmount Park Commission voted to table a multi-day, multi-stage festival in Fairmount Park and your help is needed. As...

How much weed do you have to smoke to decide this is the best way to get a message across?

No matter where you stand on the abortion debate, you probably don't want to come face-to-face with graphic photographs of aborted fetuses just after you've had breakfast. (In fact, we feel so strongly about that that we've included an extra dose of cute, above.)

The best of the internet, chopped into tiny bits and grilled for your enjoyment.

Friday this Phillyist was sipping Strongbow in her new 'hood, enjoying the fact that everyone else had left for the shore and there was plenty of elbow room at the bar. Filed under Captain Obvious was how satisfying it must be to drop a deuce at Deuce. We laughed with our friend and made it the running joke of the night every time one of us got up to break the seal.

After missing one too many trains as a result of crowded escalators en route to the platform, we have decided to offer up, as a public service, a basic escalator riding tutorial that will be an education to some and a refresher to others. Plus, we want you to get out of the way when we are trying to catch the train!

A steaming hot pile of our favorite things from around the internets.

At the POPPED! opening night party this Monday, I got the pleasure of visiting the upstairs ladies' room at Johnny Brenda's. This may be one of the prettiest bathrooms I've seen in town. Yup, that's right: the decor in this restroom is simplistically beautiful.

, I know I'm going to have fun. I'm intuitive, what can I say? Similarly, when I approach an employees' bathroom and it takes concerted effort to open the door without ripping it in half, I feel justified assuming I'm in trouble.

This Monday morning, I was at the ticket counter in Market East, preparing for some quality Regional Rail time. There's a Men’s bathroom to the left of the ticket window.

Do you know what's really cool about airplane bathrooms?

Some bathrooms seem more like lounges: candles, rich tapestries, plush sofas, all sorts of amenities inviting you to linger a while. Other bathrooms are strictly utilitarian. Not spacious, strictly functional – get in, get out. The bathroom at Grace Tavern is most certainly a member of the latter group.

Tomorrow afternoon from 3pm to 6pm there's going to be an unveiling of sorts down at the Independence Seaport Museum on Penn's Landing. This is no ordinary unveiling, though. It will be the first public presenation of the Central Delaware Waterfront Planning Process' (whew, we could barely say that out loud) ideas for revamping the riverfront.

This Wednesday evening, after learning that Tria had a 70 minute wait, a friend and I headed over to Mantra. Neither of us had been before, but we were both very happy with our wine and food. Especially our desserts. I am henceforth married to the concept of grilled pound cake (this was the first time I’d ever had it), and my friend loved her chocolate bombe (specifically because she saw it as a worthy vehicle for dulce de leche).

In the past month, the only place besides work, home and L2 that I've actually incorporated into my life is Ten Stone. The place is adorable, their fondue brings tears to my eyes and they always have Woodchuck. These factors alone are enough to make me up and marry the establishment, but after discovering that even their bathroom is decorated in happy-Katie-fashion last night, I'm now trying to determine how to propose to a bar.

For many at-risk youths, getting arrested for the first time is no piece of cake. In fact, it’s a brief stay in jail with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. But what starts out as a frightening experience could turn into a constructive and hopeful opportunity.

Yes, that's right. I went a whole one place this week that didn't have to do with retail or Vagabond. That was Monday, this is Friday; my life is boring.

Some bathrooms are of dubious cleanliness. Others are so obviously clean you can't help but notice - because your eyes are on fire. The bathroom at Chaucer's Tabard Inn is of the latter camp. Perhaps it was freshly cleaned during my visit, or perhaps one always walks into that ladies' room there and thinks their whites just got whiter.

Earlier this week, I celebrated Restaurant Week by hitting up Astral Plane with some Phillyists. My food was wonderful, and the dining room’s décor was comfy and adorable. But, trust you me, if there is one room in that place that truly reflects the restaurant’s name, the dining room it ain’t.

It usually takes a lot to bother me. Complaining is something that I always felt was left for other people. And when you’re complaining about SEPTA, the unquestioned juggernaut of Philadelphia transportation, it’s pretty damn pointless. But, returning late from lunch yesterday, something positive happened. Usually when running for a bus about to pull away from a stop, the driver will look at you and keep going as if you weren’t even there. But yesterday, the driver waited for me to hop on for about twenty seconds while the light was green at 10th and Walnut. He repeated this same act of kindness for several people at the 20th and Walnut stop. Patiently, he waited while they got off a bus on 20th and negotiated the oncoming traffic. You could see the ripple effect of this simple act of kindness - a mere several seconds delay - as each person continued to voice their thanks (most seemed to be on their way to work) long after sitting down. What a difference from the other day when the conductor of the R1 train blocked me from entering, telling me that the train leaves at 4:25 on the dot, before the train went into motion. Here’s to you Mr. Bus Driver Man!

I'm currently working on a show at L2 Restaurant and Bar. I'm not writing about the show (I know a flagrant conflict of interest when I see one), but I am writing about the upstairs womens ("L2ettes") bathroom there.

A little while back, I was getting ready to go out for drinks when Latoya puked all over my apartment. The friend I was heading out with looked horrified as I explained that I couldn’t clean it up immediately, because I was entirely out of paper towels (and running low on toilet paper. And all but one of my dish towels was already crammed into my laundry basket. This was not my finest hour.). Then, inspiration struck:

The last time I got into a cab, I realized that I had enough money to pay for my ride, but not enough to last me for the rest of the night. I asked my driver if I could pay with a credit card. He said “No, reader’s broken.” I asked why every cab in town seemed to have a broken credit card reader (because multiple people I know have been told this, and I’d heard it before, too). He then said, “Okay, I won’t lie to you. It’s not broken, but when people pay with a credit card, we don’t get the money until the end of the month. And the people who process it take ten percent of our earnings.”

Surprisingly, its not the usual bouquet of aged urine, fecal matter, and assorted garbage left to ferment. The Subway actually smells nice. In the last week and a half, I've seen crews at work at 30th, 11th, and 8th street stations actually mopping. Other times I've come across a slowly drying non-urine film accompanied by yellow signs telling me "Caution Wet Floor" and something or other in Spanish. Yes, they were mopping the subway. Not quite as shocking as the time I saw a pantless homeless woman cleaning her vagina on The Union League Steps (now that would be a great photo for their website—if only I had a camera phone then) but still, it takes one off guard. Isn't it supposed to smell awful? What's next, killing off all the rats? And it's not just pine I'm smelling down there, it's some exuberant pine scent mixed with something exotic—perhaps jasmine or goddammit, maybe even eucalyptus. Did they consult Bed Bath and Beyond prior to this?!

A ferocious head cold is slowly attacking everyone I know, and this Wednesday evening, I accepted that I, too, am sick. And then I accepted that I wanted soup and I wanted it now. On my way home from a rehearsal, I stopped by Szechuan Hunan Chinese Restaurant to pick up as much Wonton Soup as I could carry.

A Note from Editor Jim: Please welcome our newest author, Sarah Gormley! She's smart, sassy, and just generally a force to be reckoned with - and I'm not just saying that because she's my wife. Look out for posts from her in the future about volunteer opportunities around the city, as well as about various arts and entertainment topics, one of which she tackles below.

No doubt about it, Philly's got a lot to offer: a thriving theatre scene (don't forget, Fringe is just around the corner), fabulous museums, loads of live music and more historical hoopla than you can shake a stick at. However, there are some hotspot trends in places far, far away that look cool too, and Phillyist is wondering why local entreupenuers aren't jumping all over them. Dammit! We want them too!
• Private room karaoke: It's like having a karaoke bar cater just to you and your friends (think Lost in Translation). We'd heard whispers that there was a place that did this in Chinatown, but that it is no longer. If that's the case, the city needs to give this method of musical debauchery a second chance. We gave this a try in Japan, and spent five hours singing ourselves hoarse. Somehow it's simply easier to make a musical ass out of yourselves among a small group of close friends rather than a bar full of strangers. AND you don't end up waiting as long for a microphone.
• Live band karaoke: Caught this on a recent episode of Queer Eye, and if anything can help assuage our frustrated rock star fantasies more effectively than the many hours we spend playing Guitar Hero this is it.