It is now Day 5, southbound:
Bordentown!
Jester's - Farnsworth - HOB mini-crawl
www.jesterscafe.net
www.farnsworthhouse.com
www.hobtavern.com
City Streets
Ah, City Streets. The bright shining star of a multitude of strip malls that all look the same. Having learned from previous years attempting to eat the cardboard chip happy hour chicken fingers, I arrive late after a fantastic meal at a Princeton byo. I walk in and see the loyal TDDoC crew taking up the front ¼ of the bar and table area.
Chaty is at the bar trying to explain to the elders about Twitter. Ska insists that Chaty is “live-texting.” Chaty rolls his eyes and explains, once again, that they make phones that can connect to this thing called the internet. It has also been discovered that someone has the @tddoc twitter account. The last tweet was in 2009, and the photo is Eman on a stick in a poinsettia. The elders have sent the mailchimp out to find the owner of the account and shake the password out of them, but there is a frozen banana stand along the way, and the mailchimp distracts easily. A long conversation about hashtags ensues: how they can be used, why you would search for them, and no, standard grammar rules do not apply to hashtags. #effthat
I had some pretty serious conversations with some of you, despite our need to shout to be heard. And City Streets is effin LOUD. All caps don’t quite even describe it well. City Streets is clearly operating under the delusion that they are and outdoor amphitheater that holds 55,000 people. Consequently, everyone is shouting at each other to be heard, and many a TDDoCer is complaining of a sore throat this morning. They should give out lozenges instead of mints at the door. #whatdidyousay
Pods witnesses me handing a ziploc baggie to both Sophia and Milot - and immediately starts shouting about illegal activity. They were cookies, Pods. Really. Don’t talk about it loudly in public. We don’t need the fuzz involved, confiscating the cookies. #notreallycookies
At one point the Great Chevy’s incident of 2011 comes up and the edges of the room lose focus, there’s a rushing sound between my ears, and the next thing I know the random dude sitting in the middle of the bar by himself is looking at me as though he’s afraid of me. I’m still not sure what happened, but it was similar to Madeline Kahn’s moment of rage. Damn that Yvette.(http://youtu.be/92IkddsjtAA) #flamesonthesideofmyface #chevyssucks
“DJ Gash” takes over the loud entertainment playing a series of loud, depressing whiny songs (you know your minds are all in the same place mine is after hearing that unfortunate name that ironically has nothing to do with the advertisements for sexual aids in the women’s room stalls). Once he played an upbeat current top 40 song, but that was quickly replaced by another whiner advising us all to end it now. #soloudwecanthearska
Last night there was a performance of a new play, “Waiting for Bobo” Here’s a glimpse of what you missed if you left early, there may be a repeat performance next week:
Tamp: Where shall we go? Ska: Not far. Tamp: Oh yes, let’s go far away from here. Ska: We can’t. Tamp: Why not? Ska: We have to come back to-morrow. Tamp: What for? Ska: To wait for Bobo. Tamp: Ah. (pause) He didn’t come? Ska: No. Tamp: And now its too late. Ska: We should go. Tamp: Yes, lets. (They do not move)
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