When it gets this cold outside it’s really hard to break into song. Everyone – even that nice lady – is struggling down the street, grimacing into the bracing chill. I’ve been told that Pennsylvania suffers from a damp, uncomfortable cold. In New York, the cold feels like rusty knives popping between your ribs. In other words, just as everyone pictures NYC.
Today was too much, though. Even babies in strollers had no choice but to swear out loud, to themselves and nature. I passed a double-wide stroller on my way to Dizzy’s Kitchen and I overheard one of the babies saying, “goddamn-cocksucking-motherfucker-cold diaper pin.” The baby next to him said nothing because it was in suspended animation. I walked into Dizzy’s, ordered a sonofabitchgoddamn brownie and a fuckface with honey and lemon, and longed for a damp Pennsylvania cold.
