Philadelphia Phillies: I Got Something at Half Mast
I'm writing this from a hotel room near the scenic Georgia-Florida line. When I tell the locals I'm from Philadelphia, that either makes me odd or special. My husband says in my case, those are the same thing. I made an important observation on the trip down: When you pass a car in the pouring rain and every window is cracked three inches, you instantly know someone farted. You know when you're too far south on 95 when billboards start advertising live baby gators, BBQ, injury lawyers and pro-life propaganda, followed by none other than Cafe Risque. I think they skewed the order. I'm pretty sure it's pro-life then BBQ except after strip club. And injury lawyers should come after baby gators. Or before them. I should let someone know. June is National Candy Month. When it comes to "National (insert cause here) Month," I feel slightly unfulfilled. Now, give me National Eye Candy Month and I'll buy t-shirts, hone my sarcasm and warn my l