Boomtown Boudoir


She Seems Like She Knows What She’s Doing
June 27, 2010, 4:50 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Doesn’t she?

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Roadies
June 24, 2010, 7:32 pm
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A roadie is a beer you drink on your way to drinking more beer. I learned about roadies from M, who is my ex. We met on Spring Garden Street last night. He brought us roadies. They were Rolling Rock ponies he’d taken from his boathouse which according to M is constantly stocked with Rolling Rock ponies. We drank them on the way to Silk City, where we got dinner. M loves roadies. He taught me the way of the roadie while we were dating and now I love them too. So much so that I tried to convince my parents we needed to take some for the car ride between our hotel and the Nashville plantation where my cousin got married this past weekend. Mom and Dad were stocked with cans of Yuengling and bottles of Mike’s Hard Limeade. It was such a good idea. I can’t believe they vetoed it. The last time I had roadies before that was with L, who also used to be a Girl Scout. We sat down on a random stoop between bars in Fishtown and shared a can of Sly Fox. If you were to ask me, the beer materialized on its own in a sort of humble miracle, but really L must have bought a six pack at some point. The Girl Scout motto is “Be Prepared.” You can’t really understand the beauty of this kind of longsighted pragmatism until you find yourself grown up and applying it to things like roadies.



Creed’s Green Irish Tweed
January 3, 2009, 3:34 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Great Pretender wrote: Creed Green Irish Tweed. Is it green or is it purple?

I say: Okay, Great Pretender, I took a sniff, and my first impression is that if this scent is indeed purple, it is the kind of deep, almost black purple you might find inside a dark closet. Green Irish Tweed smells grassy and sweetly floral, but with that unmistakable aftershave tingle that shouts, “what’s wrong with a plain old barber?” It might be shouting a bit too loudly, with a note of hysteria that edges it into shriek territory, but no, no purple here. NO PURPLE HERE!!!

I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed this, but a frat house and a gay bar smell pretty much the same, something I would attribute to the dearth of cologne choices for men in general. A lot of men’s cologne overdoes it on either the spike-up-your-nose aquatic notes or the  overtly hairy-chested leathery stuff, and Green Irish Tweed walks a fine line between smelling pretty and smelling like a guy. However, even if it were just purely pretty, there would  be no need to have a sexual identity crisis over it. Flowers are good, and men have been getting the short end of the personal scent stick ever since the ball-breaking feminazis took over the world and gave everything with any value to their dun-colored, underplumaged sisters. I say, take back that power and wear White Diamonds!



But Enough About Me…
December 17, 2008, 9:28 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized
Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose by John Singer Sargent, 1886

"Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose" by John Singer Sargent, 1886

My classes are over for the winter and I am bored out of my mind. Please, please, please send me in some excuses to leave the house. Namely, what perfume do you wear, or what perfume are you curious about? I’ll go out, wander around one of our local perfume emporiums looking all shady, spray them,  smell them, and then come back here and write about them.

Leave me some instructions in the comments so that my ass doesn’t atrophy.