I miss Northern girls in large coats. I miss seeing them on the snow-covered streets of Center City when it's 10 degrees out--and that's before factoring the windchill in. Watching you all bundled up in a flurry of scarves and gloves makes me understand how Dostoevsky became mentally unstable. I miss Northern girls who play lacrosse--the worst sport in the world--and major in subjects like economics, political science or journalism.Aaaand, now we know what exactly those brooding types at the corner cafe have been scribbling in their journals: love letters to us! There's so much love in here that they should print this out and display it in Love Park. Fellas, what else do you appreciate about Philly girls? Our ability to jam on water ice? How we can name at least three Phillies players if you ask us? How cute we look when we chant E-A-G-L-E-S? Let us know!
I live in the South now. It's not like I particularly cared about Northern girls before. My level of women-caring was pretty much equal to Axl's desire to release a new album between 1993 and 2008. Then, I moved to the South, and Axl released the--unsurprisingly--underwhelming "Chinese Democracy." I soon realized that even though I've never cared about girls one way or the other (it's not that I'm gay, rather that I think of girls kind of like how I think of The Yeah Yeah Yeah's, i.e. an inevitability one encounters but doesn't actively care about), I miss ones from above the Mason-Dixon Line.
Now, I know what you're gonna say. "There are plenty of girls down there from above the Mason-Dixon. In fact, I'm pretty sure 1/4 of New Orleans are girls from the North who never moved home after they graduated from Tulane." Well yes, that's true. But they don't count. Northern girls are ambitious. They want to be successful. They dream of one day having a husband whose balls they own and they say "OMG," "Fabulous." And, for the record, it's hot as shit.
But the Northern girls down here? They all majored in liberal arts--which is a total fraud--since any self-respecting journalism, econ or poly sci major has read 3/4 of the assigned books, understood them better and probably hated half the ones they were supposed to "love." They debate things like whether or not they are being good people. They dance around and smoke Camel Lights when they're out at a bar. Which would be great, except well, they're not Northern girls.
They laugh. A lot. About anything. I don't hate laughter or dancing, but when someone laughs--especially if it's a female--it better be at a joke I made. See, the girls down here are the girls a guy pursues when he "wants to find himself" but realizes that ultimately, he's a moron.
So please, Philly girls, I'm pleading with you. Come down here! Bring your confidence. Bring your swagger. Bring your desire to be my boss and then use your powerful position to crush me. There are guys down here who worship what you are: smart, funny, sexy career-women who can drink Bourbon and talk about Hunter S. Thompson whilst wearing heels and a cocktail dress. Or maybe it's just me, the ultimate Yankee in the heart of the South. I miss ya'll.
June 12, 2009
Imagine my surprise when I saw this love letter to Philly girls pop up in our inbox this morning! It caught us off-guard, like a marriage proposal from a high school boyfriend we haven't thought about in six years. He asked that we call him The Eternal Summer of Hobeaux, which we will. So, ESH, let the love lettering begin: