Just Another Day at City Hall ...

Seventh District city councilman Rick Mariano -- facing an imminent federal indictment -- will remain hospitalized under psychiatric evaluation at least through the weekend, after being talked down from the City Hall Tower by Mayor Street.

Mayor Street and others rushed to the observation deck at the top of City Hall after learning that a depressed Rick Mariano had made his way there.

A massive emergency response shut down City Hall and police commissioner Sylvester Johnson helped convince Mariano to come down.

And, in great Philadelphia style, evening rush-hour traffic was ground to a halt around city hall raising complaints from drivers trying to make their way through the winding streets to wind up sitting in their usual traffic jam on the Schuylkill Expressway.

I personally feel that, with a looming transportation strike on the horizon (October 31st), the head honchos at Septa and the union representatives should use this tactic as a way to settle their endless dispute. Let's see if anyone would try and talk them down.

Feeling Bleu ...

Fun night last night...

In honor of my friend's 40th Birthday, a small group of us had dinner in one of Rittenhouse Square's trendy hotspots, Bleu, at 18th & Locust Streets. Excellent food, good service and great company. The only downside to the place is that it's not the greatest seating arrangement for more than 2 people in one party, since their tables are nothing more than round cocktail tables that they pushed together and the dishes were almost too large for everything to be placed comfortably. But all that aside, it was a fantastic and fun-filled night that brought on an incredible hangover from which I'm slowly trying to recover.

Dinner was to be at 7 o'clock, so I stopped in at the Post (conveniently located around the corner) about six for a beer. I ran into G who was also going (the rest of the party were to meet us at the restaurant). The original plan was to have dinner at another restaurant, but I received a call from O about 6:30 saying that, even though reservations had been made, it was still going to be about a 45 minute wait. So plans were changed at the last minute and we were all going to meet at Bleu instead.

One of the main reasons (other than M's 40th) was for us all to get a chance to meet M's parents, who flew into town for a few days. We've all heard stories of his family's get togethers and we were all looking forward to finally getting a chance to meet the infamous parental units. Now, I'm not good at meeting people and keeping a conversation going with strangers, but I have to say I was comfortable with M's parents from the very first second I was introduced. They were fun and friendly and both had the same infectious laugh as their son.

With drinks in hand we were all escorted to our table and ordered appitizers, entrees and, of course, more drinks. We laughed, talked, ate and drank...

And drank...

A huge thick cut of NY strip lay atop a high pile of fries sat infront of me. As I cut into the steak, I heard several comments about these being the best fries. Hands seemed to come from all directions, picking out my fries.

(oh man, my mind is so foggy right now. Trying to write about the evening with this hangover is not going over very well.)

After dinner, M's dad makes the announcement that, being Italian, it was customary in his family to have an after-dinner drink. When he suggested Sambuca my stomach flipped as the memory of a very horrible Sambuca-induced night in Atlantic City several years ago flashed in my mind like a blinding bolt of lightning. I asked the waitress what she would recommend and I took her suggestion of a vanilla flavored cognac.

My God that was potent!!!! I didn't realize at the time (when we were all saying our good-nights and I asked G if he wanted to go back to the Post for one last beer) that I had reached my limit for the evening.

I tried to finish my beer at the Post, but soon discovered that I really needed to get home and crawl into bed. I silently wondered (at least I hope it was silently) when the city had installed these trick sidewalks that seemed to shift every time you took a step. Someone should complain to the streets department about this. Luckily I found my bed and I looked forward to sleeping in late so I wouldn't wake up with a hangover.

I had neglected to remember that I now have the devil-cat living with me who liked to start his day before the first rays of sun peeked through the bedroom window...

The Week in Review ...

It's been a week now since I got my new kitten and, if it means scratches, lack of sleep, constant worrying at work if I'm gonna arrive home to spilled lamps and clawed furniture, always shouting "NO!", having to lock myself in the bedroom in order to get a little privacy, and squeezing through a small gap in the front door whenever I enter or leave the house, then things are as blissful as can be.

I exaggerate. We're bonding. In fact, we've bonded almost immediately that first night when, after his exploration of the house, he hopped up on the sofa and curled up in the crook of my arm and fell asleep. Strange things have been happening though and I had to look through a couple of web sites to realize that he's still in the "socializing" stage of his kittenhood. Strangest of all is waking up to a strange sensation every morning as he wakes me by sucking on my earlobe, or sticking his nose in my face and licking my goatee. At least his morning antics have subsided to a more tender annoyance. That first morning freaked me out...

Sound asleep, I am slowly being awakened by the soft footfalls of La Tigre (I'm still in the naming stage, trying to find one that fits his personality--right now it's Rroid, since he's a pain in my ass). He walks across the pillow, delicately stepping on my cheek, leaning down to sniff my ear and tickle my face with his whiskers. I groan and roll over, trying to escape his pre-dawn activities. I sense him stepping off of the pillow and I think (oh so erroneously) he's curling up to continue sleeping. I like to sleep in the nude (or used to). I have a little patch of hair at the base of my back. As I drift back into a deep slumber, I'm suddenly startled into consciousness when the cat decides that 5am is the perfect time to attack! In he goes, needlelike kitten claws grabbing onto the hair and yanking, bared teeth chomping down and pulling, me jumping out of bed and giving what would become the first of many painful screams. I flip on the light, my hand reaching behind and rubbing the delicate patch, my eyes adjusting, half expecting to see a ball of hair dangling from the clenched jaws of the devil himself.

He stares up at me, belly to the mattress, ears back...and then meows softly, his eyes as big as Puss n' Boots in Shrek 2. My heart opens as the anger of being suddenly and shockingly awakened drains from me. "Awwwwwwwwwww." I coo, as I crawl back into bed and curl up under the blanket. I glance at the clock and mumble about the hour before closing my eyes. Within seconds I feel a gnawing on my fingertips. I pull my hand away. The cat darts across the mattress and attacks my hand. I shove it under the pillow. He claws his way into the linen cave and claws at the exposed skin. "STOP!" I yell.

I've quickly come to realize that "STOP" in kitty language is translated into "Yes, little one, I love playtime at five in the morning."

Aaaaaaaaaand how!...

I've been trying to catch up on last season before starting season 2. This show is like a drug. It pulls you in and, like a drug, leaves you sitting in a fog wondering how you got there.

First there's an unknown monster, stomping down trees and ripping pilots from the cockpit, leaving him dead and bloodied and dangling from a tree branch 30 feet in the air. Then there's a polar bear trampling through the underbrush. Then there's a signal that is being sent from somewhere on the island...and has been sending out for twenty years. Then a French lady. Then "the others". Then the pirates who take the boy who's "special". Then the hatch. Then the man IN the hatch who's the same man in the doctor's memories.

I mean....what the hell?!?!?!?!

Are they really all dead?...

Is this heaven, hell or purgatory?...

Aliens?...

I'm so...(for lack of a better word)... Lost.